‘On a Wing and a Prayer’ - Norman Storey - 214 Squadron
I was born in August 1924 and enlisted in February 1943. I volunteered for Air Crew and went before the Selection Board to be asked what I wanted to be. I, like 99% of others, answered the same question: ‘Pilot’. I was informed that there were no Pilot courses available. As I was good at maths, they suggested I trained as a Navigator. This I refused and said I would like to go as an Air Gunner. It was then suggested I train as a Wireless Operator Air Gunner. Again I refused saying ‘If I can’t go on a Pilot’s course, I want to
be an Air Gunner’ and that is how I joined ‘the Suicide Club’.
On being posted to St John’s Wood and billeted in a commandeered luxury flat, I was jabbed several times and given ‘doctored’ tea to drink. I was like so many others, still fresh from inoculations and told by sadistic Corporals to swing our painful arms. We were marched to the London Zoo for our meals. Being treated like animals, I presumed the Powers-to-Be thought this appropriate!
From here, I was posted to I.T.W in Bridlington. I was instructed by an Officer to have two haircuts in one day - an experience that has stayed with me for the rest of my life and my excuse for not wanting to visit the barber’s too often. After three weeks, I was posted to the North of the town, to E.A.G.S. I was taught to strip and assemble a V.G.O and Browning blindfolded. Some basic lessons on Morse Code, signalling and clay pigeon shooting. I managed to resist shooting one of our Instructors! From here I was posted to 7 A.G.S Stormy Down in South Wales.
It was now time to have further classroom instruction and our initiation into flying in Whitleys with Polish pilots. Our task was to fire one hundred rounds at a drogue being towed by a Lysander. As I managed not to shoot the Lysander down I was awarded my brevet and promoted to Sergeant.
My next posting was to 30 O.T.U.
30 O.T.U was where a large number of aircrew of all trades were assembled and told to form themselves into a crew. I was very friendly with another Air Gunner and we approached a Pilot and asked if he wanted an Air Gunner. His reply was ‘Yes’, but only one was required. I magnanimously said to my friend ‘All right, you stay with this Pilot and I will crew up with somebody else’. This gesture probably saved my life! I approached another Pilot and on asking if he was looking for an Air Gunner replied: ‘Can
you swim?’ I replied ‘Yes, I quite often did half a mile and mile swims’. It was some time later I found the reason for this question. The Rear Gunner was in charge of the dinghy in the event of a ditching.
We were now a complete crew. The Pilot, Len Young from Leeds, was slightly older than most and had been a Flying Instructor for two years and obviously an experienced Pilot. Slightly younger than Len, our Navigator Alf Shields from London was also experienced having done 10 ops on Blenheims. Our Bomb Aimer: George Hathaway from Birmingham, was slightly younger. Our Wop/Ag Ron Gardener from Croydon was also slightly younger and finally myself, the Rear Gunner from Westcliffe-on-Sea, the ‘baby’ of the crew at 18 years old.
We started our flying training on Wellingtons on 24 June 1943, circuits and bumps, cross countries, bombing practice, firing practice, night flying and fighter affiliation. This latter exercise consisted of a Spitfire loaded with a camera trying to get us in his sights. Len and I were very proficient with this procedure and the Spitfire Pilot was unable to get us at any time, an exercise in the future that was to stand us in good stead …
We finally completed our training at O.T.U.
Our last exercise was on 12 August when we were sent on a Nickel to Versailles dropping propaganda leaflets. No doubt with a shortage of paper, the Germans put them to good use! Whilst there, we saw one Wellington crash on landing and burst into flames.
We were now posted to 1662 Con. Unit where Len had to familiarise himself with conversion to the four engine Halifax and Lancaster. It was here that we had two extra members join the crew – the Flight Engineer from London and the Mid-Upper Gunner from Harrow-on-the-Hill.
We were now flying on various exercises from 19 September to 22 October 1943. The time had now come for us to march off to war and join a Squadron. We were posted to 103 Squadron at Elsham Wolds in Lincolnshire.
The crew arrived at a very small country Railway Station to be met with a warm welcome from a friendly WAAF driver. We piled into the back of a 15cwt and on the way to the camp Ron asked the driver about the Squadron and its losses. She said it was a very good Squadron with hardly any losses at all. She was kind and caring … and a bloody liar!!!
On arrival, we were allocated a Nissan hut to ourselves. The next morning we reported to our various leaders. This was a Lancaster Squadron. From 10 to 17 November we did a Cross Country and a couple of other exercises.
On the morning of 18 November ‘Ops were on!’ Len was down to go as a second dickey. When he informed us of this we all joked and promised we would be thinking of him whilst knocking back pints in the Mess. After a while, he came to us and said we would be going as a crew. At first, we thought he was joking! But he soon convinced us this was a fact. We discussed it amongst ourselves and came to the conclusion that it must be an ‘easy’ target to initiate a sprog crew.
It was 18 November 1943 and our baptism of fire … three raids on Berlin in six nights!
We were to do a further 7 ops to Berlin, bringing our total to 10. The crew was now visited by a reporter from a Lincolnshire newspaper, questions were asked and a photograph taken of us with our aircraft – D-Dog (I will go on to mention the photograph later). We were never told the reason for this visit, but can only imagine it was for propaganda purposes and a moral boost for their readers.
During the winter of 1943-44, the losses were horrendous and Bomber Command wiped itself out – ‘The Lost Command’. When we had completed 11 ops, we were the leading crew on the Squadron. We had been on all the heavy loss raids including a Berlin and a Leipzig raid when the losses of each was well into the seventies. The Nuremburg raid when Bomber Command received its highest losses was about 95 aircraft. I remember on our return the interrogating officer asked the usual question: ‘How many aircraft do you think we lost tonight?’ My reply was: ‘A hundred’. He refused to accept my estimate and said: ‘I am not entering that on this report!’ I said: ‘That is up to you, Sir. But I am not changing my estimate.’ I often wonder what he thought the next morning when the newspaper headlines were 96 – 97 – 98 aircraft lost.
Soon we were to switch to French Targets in a softening up programme ready for the invasion. In its wisdom ‘The Powers to Be’ decided French targets were to count only as a third of an Op. That was until the Mailly-le-Camp raid on 3 May 1944. Pre-war, this had been a French military camp, but was now being used by the Germans for tank training.
We were circling over two German Fighter aerodromes, waiting for instructions to bomb on the flares. It was absolute chaos. Pilots on RT were asking when we could go in to bomb. The reply was always the same: ‘Don’t bomb … wait!’ Aircraft were being shot down all around us and our Skipper decided to go in on a bombing run. On the way in, the order was received to bomb on the flares. I believe we must have been the first to bomb. We had an aiming-point photograph. We were later informed that we had probably killed 200 Germans much to the delight of our Bomb Aimer who had recently lost his brother in Italy.
49 aircraft were lost, over 11% - similar percentage to the losses on the Nuremburg Raid.
We were allocated a hut to a crew and when Len was commissioned there was just the six of us. On returning from the raid, we found a young Air Gunner had been billeted in our hut. I say young as by this time I was an old man of 19 years old. He popped his head over the sheets and said: ‘How was it tonight?’ Ron replied: ‘Bloody terrible. We lost four on the other side and one back here’. I can only imagine what the new boy must have thought: ‘I wonder what I’ve let myself in for?’ I would wager he had no further sleep that night.
After two or three days, he came to me and said: ‘As you are the Senior Air Gunner on the Squadron, I wonder if you can give me any advice?’ My reply was: ‘First of all, you need 95% luck. Then perfect your corkscrew evasive action, see the fighter first and immediately put into practice your evasive action. Finally, one tactic I use, is when over a target and it is near daylight, I close one eye then when we leave the target area, I open it immediately. By doing this, I have night vision when we are most vulnerable instead of being temporarily blinded.’ I could give him no further advice and tragically he was lost on his first Op.
When we had completed 28 Ops, we were informed we were being screened. We were never told the reason for our not having to complete the thirty Ops. I can only imagine the moral of the Squadron being so bad they were frightened we would be lost on our last two Ops. By screening us, it proved it was possible to complete a Tour. The next senior crew was captained by a Canadian and they were lost shortly afterwards on a French target.
Our last Op was on Hasselt. 3hrs, 50mins. We were on the Aulnoye raid, 10 May 1944, when 7 Lancasters were shot down all by the same pilot, Hauptmann (Flight Lieutenant) Helmut Bergmann. He was awarded the Knights Cross in June 1944. After many more successful combats, he was finally shot down by a Mosquito and killed on 7 July 1944.
One unfortunate event was that about the same time we arrived at Elsham, a new Squadron Commander was also posted to Elsham. He was a Wing Commander from Training Command with no operational experience. Hardly the sort of man to offer encouragement and help moral! One of his first ideas was to get all aircrew to change into their gym kit and follow him for a run round the perimeter track. He pranced off with the aircrew following and soon after, we started to peel off back to our lockers, changed and went back to the Mess. I would like to have seen his face when at the end of the circuit he looked behind him to find only five or six runners still with him! The exercise was never repeated. He was posted after six months to the relief of those still serving on the Squadron.
A good well-run ship needs a good Captain, something lacking during our stay with 103 Squadron.
After our screening, we were all given Leave, and on our return we were posted to various O.T.Us. I went as a Ground Instructor to Wymeswold where I spent the next five and a half months. My next posting was to 214 Squadron, Oulton, Norfolk …
It was a bitterly cold December day when Jack Nash, a fellow Air Gunner, and myself arrived at Oulton. After all the necessary registration it was early evening when a WAAF driver of a 15cwt delivered us to our billet. On entering, there were six members of a crew, both British and Canadians. Jack and I still in our great coats headed straight for the brightly burning stove and started to thaw out. Naturally, one of our first questions was: ‘What aircraft are we flying?’ The reply, much to our amazement, was B-17s. Like
so many at that time, we had never heard of a Bomber Command Squadron equipped with Flying Fortresses. Our next question: ‘Why?’ We were informed they could not tell us as the operations were top secret. Rather a stupid reply when one considers we would be told everything on arriving at the camp next morning!
Determined to impress the ‘sprogs’, they then began to tell us of their wonderful ‘daring deeds’. The final shoot line was when one of them said to the others: ‘Tell them how we looped the loop the other night in a B-17.’ By now, Jack and I had thawed out, so removed our great coats. Under each of our Brevets was the ribbon of the 1939-43 Star. Immediately, they asked: ‘Have you been on ops before?’ Jack’s reply was: ‘Yes, we have both done a tour and I did 9 on Berlin and my friend did 10’. There was a sudden hush and the conversation for the rest of the evening was remarkably subdued.
The next morning, we boarded a crew bus to take us to the Camp and called at the Officers’ Mess to collect the Officers. I was sitting there as they climbed aboard when suddenly, I came face to face with Alfie Shields, my Navigator on 103 Squadron. I think we simultaneously said: ‘What are you doing here?’ Apparently, like me, Alfie had arrived the previous day. On arriving at the Camp, we each went our separate ways. After reporting to register my arrival, I was summoned to the Adjutant’s Office. When I was at Wymeswold, I had been recommended for a Commission and to go on a Gunnery Leader’s Course. I’d passed my four interviews for a Commission and had only to go before the Air Officer at HQ. I was informed this was more or less a formality as he was not known to turn anybody down. However, to go to this interview entailed going to HQ when transport was available. I was posted before this last interview.
When I reported to the Adjutant at 214 he had all my papers in front of him. He said I would only have to do two interviews and my Commission would come through quickly. However, I had by now changed my mind and decided not to progress further. The Adjutant was most friendly and spent some time trying to talk me into taking a Commission, but I had decided not to go ahead with it. The Adjutant was friendly, a far cry from the attitudes at 103 Squadron. I never regretted my decision for the rest of my stay in the
RAF. However, on returning to Civvy Street as an ex-Officer, I would have been eligible to join the RAF Club, and living in the centre of London, I could have made good use of it for personal use and to entertain many of my foreign customers and colleagues.
When I was summoned to report to the Gunnery Leader, Flt/Lt Philips with my Log Book, he looked through it and said: ‘Why have you not got a DFM?’ I pointed out that ‘Training Command’ were not very conversant with gongs. The attitude being if I haven’t got a gong no-one else is going to have one! He immediately said: ‘When you finish your tour here I promise you will be awarded one’. I met Eric Philips after the war, at Reunions. On the first time I met him I said: ‘I don’t suppose you remember me?’ His immediate reply: ‘Yes, I do and I will never forget your Log Book. I thought: here am I, sitting here, having done only one op to Berlin with a DFC. It should be me standing!’ Eric Philips was a true Officer and a Gentleman. It was his kind and that of the Adjutant that made 214 such a friendly and efficient Squadron.
The morning came when all us new boys were standing around trying to form ourselves into crews. Jack and I went up to a Pilot and asked him: ‘Are you looking for any Gunners?’ His reply was: ‘Yes’, and then said: ‘I am looking for a Navigator’. I pointed to Alfie Shields and said: ‘There is a Navigator I know’. He said: ‘Is he any good?’ My reply was: ‘If he was good enough to get me through my first tour, I have no doubt he will get me through my second tour’, and that is how by a remarkable coincidence Alfie and I were to do our second tour together.
Our first op with 214 was to Chemnitz on 14 February 1945 – the day after Dresden. I missed out not having been on that op as I was contacted by the Media and asked: ‘Were you on that Dresden raid?’ Apparently I was to be invited to Dresden on an anniversary of the raid to be interviewed on radio or television. I just missed out on the hospitable reception I would have had, rather different to the kind of ‘hospitality’ I was used to on my previous visits to Germany. We were attacked by a Ju88 on our first op, fortunately the Rear Gunner saw him before he opened fire and giving him a short burst he broke away thankfully, not to be seen again. We completed 14 ops, the last was on 2 May to Schleswig, during 4.50hrs. This was the last day Bomber Command operated against Germany.
After the war, we were sent on different postings. I took an M.T Course and after several postings I finished up at Luneburg in Germany, from where I was demobbed in February 1947.
During the war, the men of Bomber Command were heroes. The day war ended, they were mass murderers, and murderers don’t get medals!
The top politicians who had fully supported Arthur Harris during the war now wanted to disown any connection with the bombing of Germany. Did they want to appease those nice Germans who had bombed London, Coventry and Plymouth? Bomber Command was never represented in the Victory Parade. Their attitude: ‘let Harris carry the can!’ Members of Bomber Command and most of the general public considered this an insult, especially as it is a known fact that Bomber Command did more than any to bring about the defeat of Germany.
However, a small consolation was the decision of The Coin and Medal News Magazine to arrange for the issue of a Bomber Command Medal. The cost of the Medal was £15.95. This however, could not be worn with official medals, but could be worn below them.
As President of the Air Gunners’ Association, I annually laid a wreath on behalf of the Association at the annual Memorial Service at Runneymede. After the issue of the medal, I saw many ex-Bomber Command veterans wearing the medal with pride, and quite rightly so! I could never bring myself to wear a medal I could buy, but I fully supported all those who did. When I received the application for the medal, I was surprised and proud of the fact that the illustration of a crew on the front of the application was the
photograph taken by the Lincolnshire newspaper after our 10 ops on Berlin with 103 Squadron.
I wish all members of RAF 100 Group Association – Happy Landings for many years to come!
Norman Storey
This article is from the Autumn 2013, Spring 2014 and Winter 2014 issues of Confound and Destroy
