In Memoriam Bryan D Gale Flt/Lt RAF
Bryan Gale passed away 2nd January this year, 2009 and it is only when we find the time to look that it becomes clear what a courageous man our Dad was. I only wish he had talked more when he was here. Mum unfortunately had heard it many times when she was alive, had lived through his days as a pilot’s wife during the war, so tended to steer his talk of war and RAF days elsewhere. They were thrilled when they received their Diamond Wedding Anniversary card from the Queen on 25th September 2004. All the family, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren were there to celebrate the day with them. The following writings offer a clue to our father’s experiences and the kind of work he was involved in.
Valerie Rudd (nee Gale)
"Dear Mr Salgado,
I have your letter forwarded by Bill Wilson of the Mosquito Aircrew Association from which I see that you are researching the Battle of the Atlantic as it was affected by the operations in the Bay of Biscay.
I was indeed involved with my navigator, Jeff Edwards, in 157 Squadron flying Mosquito aircraft at the time, from 15th November until 23rd March 1944, based at RAF Predamack near Mullion Cove in Cornwall. In this time I completed 17 operations which were code-named ‘INSTEP’. The details I have are from my second log book of which I have five because I hold a Permanent Commission in the RAF and served until 1966.
As with most RAF pilots, the ‘written history’ in our Log Books is rather sparse, since it was usual to one line per flight, only 10cm length of which consisted of the destination, details of any action or points of interest seen. Navigators are more likely to keep diary style entries in their Log Books, but unfortunately Jeff Edwards was killed in December 1944 whilst flying with another pilot.
Photograph shows back row: Wilde, Astley, Jeff Edwards, Tweedale, another
Front row: Barnard, Crowther, Bryan Gale
The missions were mainly of the type where a ‘finger four’ of Mossies would be patrolling at about 50 feet above the sea to a given point, given by latitude and longitude. From this point of origin an expanding, or creeping, search would be carried out in the hope of finding the Ju 88s which were looking for the Sunderlands/Liberators which were looking for the U-boats or blockade runners. The low altitude was adopted in order to silhouette any other a/c against the sky, which in theory should have been a lighter background than the sea. In fact, often the two were grey with a poor horizon in winter which made for eye strain and fatigue due to boredom. The flights were of up to 5 hour 30 duration, depending on the position of the origin of the search, and as you say, they could vary from Finistern to Ortugal or Bishops Rock.
Photograph shows Bryan Gale front row sitting 2nd on right – Course 33, Squad 1, 5.1.42
Photograph shows Boston, Light Bomber, Bryan Gale back row left as a Sergeant Pilot
The majority of the actions by our Squadron were against small-boat shipping, fishing boats etc since if these were far out from the French coast they were assumed to be collaboraters in order to have permission. From our own Y Service (Radio Intelligence) we were aware that they were reporting our time and position back to German Intelligence. We also often met FW190s attempting to intercept us off Brett Peninsula on the return trip, which had been initiated by their chaps, who had been accompanied by German ships who had used small-arms and cannon against us!!
Things were a little hotter on the 28th December 43. My Flight Commander, Squadron Leader H E Tappin, DFC, was leading a four consisting of himself, and his Nav F/O Thomas, F/O Huckin and Nav F/Sgt Graham, F/Lt Benson, F/O Landrey (Nav) and myself and F/Sgt Edwards. On a normal INSTEP offensive patrol, when south of Bret and well into the Bay, we saw a large a/c to port and above us. S/L Tappin immediately ordered battle formation and full power and we all turned to port and gave chase at sea level, managing to get quite close before we were seen. The aircraft was a German Hinkel 177 which turned for the coast at full throttle, diving slightly to gain speed and firing from a tail and dorsal turrets with what appeared to be large cannons. However, he stood little chance against four Mossies with four 20mm cannons and four Brownings machine guns each and superior speed and maneuverability. ‘Taffs’ got in a good burst with the rest of us jockeying for position to ‘give it a squirt’ as well but it was going down towards the sea smoking heavily.
Photograph shows Jeff Edwards & Bryan Gale
One of our number, however, F/O Hackin, was most anxious to get in a burst, quite unnecessarily and followed it right down, firing as he went, until it hit the water. By this time he was so low he too clipped his propellers on a wave crest and attempted to climb away, without a great deal of success as he had to ditch a couple of miles away from the Gerry. Both Huckin and Gregory survived their ditching and made it, uninjured into their dingy. We climbed and established their position by GEE-fix them for Predamack.
The next day our sister Flight ‘A’ Flight escorted a Wellington a/c carrying airborne lifeboat, which was successfully dropped to our two chaps after a square search to find them. There was no sign of the German a/c or any of its crew. Huckin and Graham successfully sailed the dingy all the way back to Falmouth without further alarm except for spending the night in one of our minefields close to the Scilly Isles. Huckin was awarded the DFC, Graham the DFM and I believe both spent the rest of the war telling ‘everyone how to do it’!
It wasn’t all ‘shell and shot’. On 21st March 1944, my Nav and I were scrambled on an Air Sea Rescue flight to search for a 248 Beaufighter crew who ditched out beyond the Scillies somewhere. It was a night operation and as we were ex-night fighters we were considered better experienced at this than 248 Sqn. who were Coastal Command proper. We found a torch floating on the water, fixed its position by Dead Reckoning, confirmed by GEE fix, and radioed the position back to 10 Group, Fighter Command, and proceeded to orbit the light which kept disappearing in the wave troughs. An hour and a half later two sets of nav lights appeared on the water and we were contacted by Aldis lamp after we had exchanged recognition signals. We led the boats which turned out later to be high speed naval launches to the light which was soon doused and we returned home after 3hr 35mins ‘floating about’ at low speed. There was a body in a Mae West recovered at dawn, not sooner, again because of the Scilly minefield and they put a swimmer in to try to recover it before but could not.
On 24th March 44, we were again involved with a Warwick and an airborne lifeboat. This was a 5hr 15min operation acting as fighter escort to the Air Sea Rescue lifeboat down into the Bay. His flat out speed was 160mph which is only 40mph above the approach speed of a Mossie, causing that a/c to wallow about like a sea sick pig and making straight and level flight difficult and formation flying and turns almost impossible. Hence one has to fly orbits round it at a more conventional speed, or flying with undercarriage down and partial flap which can cause the radiators to over heat and you may then need the lifeboat you were taking to someone else.
The following day the whole Squadron set course for RAF Valley and 9 Group Fighter Command to re-equip with new high level Mossies and ‘work up’ for operations in B100 Group, Special Duties. D-Day was just around the corner!
157 Squadron was a ‘guinea-pig’ or experimental Squadron. We formed in February43 at RAF Castle Camps near Cambridge then as follows –
15.3.43 Bradwell Bay (Essex)
14.5.43 Hunsdon (Hertford)
9.10.43 Predamack (Cornwall)
25.3.44 Valley (Anglesey-Re-equip)
6.5.44 Swannington (Norfolk)
to 26.5.45 Disbanded
During these two years we were ‘straight’ night fighters, Coastal Fighters, Bomber Support which was a specialist job escorting the Bomber Stream to and from the target area and also anti-flying bomb Nightfighters.
The Mosquito was a beautiful aircraft, in appearance and to fly, and could have been purpose built for any of the roles in which I flew it in and was capable of doing many of the jobs which are currently done by modern jet a/c most of which I was to fly in later years.
To sum up, the INSTEP role was one of hard slog across miles of ocean, out of sight of land, at very low level in close formation, with the windscreen crusted in salt and was not a very pleasant exercise at all. Rewards were few and far between and the only thing which was good about it was the use of the Polurian Hotel, a five star one, as our Officers Mess. My room was next to the Bar which was very handy.
I am still in touch with several other members of the ‘One Hundred and Fifty Seventh Night Pursuit’ as we laughingly called it at the time, but of course we are none of us getting any younger (I am now 73) and one after another we keep falling out of the tree.
I terminated my RAF career in 1966 as a Captain flying Britannia transport a/c with No 99 Squadron and entered civil aviation management then, finally retiring as Airport Director of Operations at Birmingham International Airport in 1983.
I hope some of this stuff may be useful to you for your book and if there are any specific questions I may be able to answer, please contact me direct. Good luck with the ‘scribbling’.
Yours sincerely,
Bryan D Gale, Flt/Lt RAF Ret’d"
From the Memoir of Flying Officer G T Long
Original at Imperial War Museum
‘There followed five more High Level Intruders with Syd Astley, then at the end of the month, while we were making a night flying test in preparation for a sixth, the air speed indicator failed, and Syd had the tricky job of flying without knowing how fast the Mosquito was going – or, more importantly, how slowly, except for the feel of the controls.
As the plane was on its take-off run I thought the ASI seemed sluggish, but it wasn’t until we were two thirds of the way down the runway that I was sure, and by then it was too late to try to stop. When we were in the air the most the instrument would read was 120.
So Syd headed for Woodbridge, the emergency airfield on the Suffolk coast. It had a specially long and wide runway for aircraft with landing problems (and also a FIDO installation to burn off fog).
Syd brought the Mosquito in fast to avert danger of stalling – and made a beautiful landing. We had to spend the night at Woodbridge until the ASI could be seen to.
At the beginning of December W/O Astley was classified as tour-expired and posted away from Swannington for a ‘rest’, or change of activity, and once more I had to find another pilot.
In the middle of the month I found him, Flying Officer Bryan Gale, who had just split up with his Navigator, Flying Officer Jeff Edwards, after they had flown half a tour together.
After a couple of operational sorties, Bryan and I left Swannington for Christmas Leave, and Jeff Edwards kindly drove us into Norwich to catch our train. That same night he was killed with his new pilot, Flight Lieutenant W Taylor when Taylor attempted to land a damaged Mosquito at Swannington on returning from a High Level Bomber Support operation. Bryan and I were most shocked by this news which awaited us on our return.
Jeff Edwards was such a cheery character that he was much missed. ‘Shorty’ Taylor was fairly new to the Squadron, a quiet man who had already done a tour on Lysanders flying SOE agents into and out of occupied France.
The fatal crash of our friends was another instance of the ‘on-off’ war the air crews in Britain experienced all the time, from civilised life to combat death, all on the same day.
Bryan and I flew to the Ruhr on December 28, bringing me to a total of 13 completed trips – three others were uncompleted due to equipment failures.
Bryan and I made our first operational flight of the New Year on January 7 1945, a High Level Intruder flight over Munich, the Bavarian capital, which I recalled was the last city on the honeymoon route Marjorie and I took to Garmisch-Partenkirchen nine and a half years before. How things had changed, but I would still have hated having to drop the bombs.
My birthday on January 15 was spent in the discomfort of Woodbridge, to which Bryan had turned back the evening before when the Mosquito’s air pressure failed, and the Mosquito is useless without pneumatics.
Bryan chose Woodbridge because the Mosquito had no brakes and needed the longer runway. Then, to make matters worse as the aircraft was touching down, the starboard tyre burst, and even Bryan’s use of full starboard motor power failed to stop a swing off the runway on to the grass.
We then spent the whole of my birthday waiting for work to start on the Mosquito, but nothing was done till next day. By teatime it was fixed, but the weather closed in and we could not return to Swannington till the third day.
Woodbridge was a great haven for aircraft which had been badly shot up, or which had serious mechanical problems like ours, but for the aircrew seeking shelter there the messing and billeting arrangements ranked among the poorest.
We were fed in the Airmen’s Mess, where the food was exceptionally poor, and the place itself dirty. We were unable to wash as we had neither soap nor towels, and we slept 18 to a Nissen hut which was so cold that January we had to keep most of our clothing on. The one civilising comfort was that we could have a shave, as the station barber had instructions to shave any visiting aircrew who requested a shave – free of charge if necessary. But when you need the help of Woodbridge and you have it to thank for your safe arrival back on earth; that is three-star treatment in itself.
It was a great joy to get back to Swannington on the morning of the 17th and to have the luxury of a hot bath and shave, followed by an edible meal – but the meal had to be rushed to be ready for an early afternoon NFT before briefing for the night’s programme.
We were in a different Mosquito now. This one was Q Queenie, and we took off in her at 1413 hours. As we sped along the runway Q Queenie kept absolutely straight, and I thought to myself what a smashing take-off Bryan was making.
As the wheels left the deck I leaned forward to switch on my A.I. set. Simultaneously I felt the aircraft lurch and heard an engine falter. I looked up to see Bryan moving one throttle forwards and backwards.
“The port engine’s cut out,” he said.
We had just crossed the perimeter, and were no more than 100 to 150ft off the deck, with a church spire just ahead. Speed was 140 to 150mph, and a Mossie needs 170 for single-engine flying with proper control.
Bryan feathered the propeller of the dead engine.
Then we saw that the port leg of the undercarriage had not fully retracted. I tried to pump it up manually, but could not make any impression on it.
So there we were, like a wounded bird with one leg hanging down, making flight even more difficult, and control by the pilot harder still. Bryan had to keep his foot jammed hard against the rudder to counteract the thrust of the good engine, which seemed to be doing its best to pull us into a death spiral.
Although the physical strain of fighting the rudder was becoming almost unbearable, Bryan managed to keep Q Queenie turning slightly starboard. After about 10 minutes he managed to reach about 500ft, but the drag of the leg lost 200ft of that.
Norfolk had always seemed to have such a mass of airfields, until now when we so desperately needed one. Then I spotted one about two miles away to starboard, and Bryan orbited towards it, but we were approaching downwind, and couldn’t try to land that time.
Bryan’s leg was nearly breaking, and he called up Docile Control on the R/T to say he would have to try to land in a field. Control called back: “Good luck, 43!”
I had never known my mouth to be so dry. Bryan asked me if I wanted to jump, but we were no more than 400ft and I didn’t fancy it. Then we saw the airfield again, and Bryan turned so steeply towards it I thought we should slip into the ground any time. Bryan had managed the approach nicely and put the nose down as I fired off some red Very cartridges as a warning of our plight.
Q Queenie shot over the grass beside the runway, and I thought she would float forever. Then more than halfway across the field the propellers hit the ground. The feathered propeller hit edge on and would not bend, so snapped off. The Mosquito slithered 200 yards on its belly before the starboard propeller dug in and spun the aircraft round till it faced the way it had come.
I pulled the red handle above my head, then punched the hatch open with my fist. We were both quickly through it, and then saw that poor Q Queenie had broken in two behind the cockpit, and the tail-plane was now neatly tucked underneath the main wing.
Petrol was pouring from a hole in the nose of one of the drop tanks, but luckily there was no fire, and we were able to return to the cockpit and retrieve our parachutes.
Mosquito NFXIX – RSOQ, TA 44G Mosquito NFXIX of 85 & 157 Squadrons.
Crashed in a meadow by F/Lt Bryan D Gale while doing circuits at Shipham, Norfolk on 17.1.45.
Neither Gale or his Observer, F/O G T Lang were injured
This was the way we arrived, uninvited, at the American Air Force base of Shipdham. Very quickly two Jeeps and an ambulance arrived, for they were very practised at helping casualties at Shipdham. Fortunately we were unscratched and did not need the help, but as we were to see later that afternoon, many of their own comrades did.
We were, of course, somewhat shaken, for we had just had an agonising 22 minutes in the air, the longest 22 minutes of my life. Such was my 13th Mosquito flight with Bryan Gale.
And that was my third scare in the RAF.
One of the Jeeps took us to the Flying Control complex to wait for transport from Swannington to pick us up, and as we waited we watched Shipdham’s Liberator bombers returning from a long-range daylight raid deep into Germany.
Many of the Liberators were firing off white Very lights as they approached the runway. Those were the ones with wounded on board, and there were many of them.
As soon as a shot-up bomber touched down there was an ambulance to turn in behind it, and race after it along the runway to take off its injured as soon as it came to a stop.
The price our American allies were paying was a very heavy one.
Later examination of the engines of Q Queenie revealed that the port motor had cut because a fire extinguisher had inadvertently gone off and quenched the engine. Such an accident should not have been enough to stop a healthy engine, but, of course, it had.
As I had promised I would do, I told Marjorie what had happened, and finished my letter by saying: ‘So you see, darling, it’s been rather a trying day, and at the end of it I feel I’ve been very lucky to get away with it’.
Next day I told her: ‘Bryan and I did an NFT this afternoon, and managed to land with both engines going. The weather was awful, low cloud, rain and a gale, and we bumped about all over the place. All the same, I feel better for the flight.’ It was rather like getting back on a horse after falling off.
Meanwhile, Marjorie had started to compile a census of cases in Longwood of children who might be spastics, and soon had a list of about a dozen. Of course, she had no medical training and no formal authority to diagnose, but with medical knowledge of the matter as we then knew it to be she was probably more likely to be correct than the average GP. Marjorie decided that a number on her list were not spastics, but several certainly were.
Bryan and I flew a High Level Intruder to Stuttgart on January 28, bringing my trips to 15 and Bryan’s to 29.
‘We were glad to get the trip done’, I wrote to Marjorie, ‘for it seems to have been a bit of a bogey to us. It’s like playing a game of darts, and sticking at one number for a long time. We tried to do the trip on January 14, and had to land at Woodbridge through lack of air pressure. We stayed there three days, and immediately on our return we pranged on the NFT. The following day we did another NFT, but ops were cancelled, and the same thing happened the next day but one.
A day or two later we were setting off at night, and when halfway down the runway Bryan closed the throttles because the air speed indicator was not registering (it had frozen up). So you see we worked quite hard to get the trip done.’
In fact, the ‘bogey’ trip had taken no less than a fortnight to accomplish! With that out of the way, we managed three High Level Intruders – to the Ruhr, Wiesbaden and Dortmund – in the next six days.’
Reprinted with kind permission of Valerie and Chris, Bryan Gale’s family.
Bryan Gale front row standing 6th from left – back signed by Squadron names
Valerie, Bryan Gale’s daughter writes:
‘Thank you for your e-mail. I'm sorry it was as much a shock to learn of my Dad’s passing for you as for us. He died peacefully in his sleep on the 2nd of January.
Since my Mothers death eight months prior he felt so alone, we feel he lost the will to live. He was a very private quiet man who had loved the life of an RAF pilot.
Dad, I know, enjoyed reading your Newsletter it was always kept by his side we often talked about some of the articles written in it. At the grand age of 86 his memories of yesteryear were very much clearer than here and now.
Dad was at RAF Swannington in 157 Squadron during the war. His rank when he retired from the RAF was Flight Lieutenant.
Born 2nd May 1922 - died 2nd January 2009’
This article is from the Autumn 2009 issue of Confound and Destroy
