The Great World War 1914–1945: 1. Lightning Strikes Twice. John Bourne

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ squadrons: how individual members would cope with combat stress.⁴³

      For the first two years of the war, crews could pass directly from this training to their operational squadrons, because the aircraft being used by the OTUs were generally of the same type as those on the front-line squadrons. However, with the introduction of the new generation of four-engined bombers, such as the Lancaster and Halifax, it was realised that new crews also required ‘conversion’ on to these more complex aircraft. So a Conversion Unit course lasting two weeks was added to the OTU programme. In sum, Operational Training gave crews a fighting chance of survival once they joined the front line, but the organisation was not without its flaws. It was acknowledged after a time that the most valuable instructors were those men who had seen recent operational flying, but such men were hard to obtain because of the pressures of maintaining the offensive against Germany. This was particularly the case at the start of the campaign in 1940–41. The problem was solved partially in 1941 by the Air Ministry’s setting operational tours at 200 hours, after which an individual would have six months’ rest, usually instructing at an OTU. Another difficulty arose when the new generation of bombers entered service, and there was great reluctance to withdraw these types from the front line. Many of those crews destined ultimately to serve in Lancaster squadrons found that most of their conversion training actually occurred on Halifaxes or Stirlings.⁴⁴

      Pressure on the training organisation was relieved to a certain extent in the early part of 1942 when the Air Ministry did away with the policy of having two pilots per bomber.⁴⁵ From this point, a heavy bomber would have just a single pilot. Pressure on the OTUs was also relieved somewhat by the establishment of Advanced Flying Training Schools and Personnel Reception Centres, which undertook refresher training for those aircrew trainees recently arrived from overseas Empire Air Training Schools.⁴⁶ It was often at this point that the extra training revealed weaknesses in aircrew skills, and it was common to see pilots being re-graded and sent off for navigation training. In fact, only 64 per cent of those who started flying training as pilots ended up as pilots.⁴⁷ At certain points in the war, there were also shortfalls in other aircrew trades, so that even those judged to be good pilots could sometimes find themselves retraining in another role. One such was Walter Thompson, who joined the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1941 and underwent pilot training. On arrival in Britain, he was asked what type of flying he preferred:

      ‘They said that those who did best would have first choice. I chose night-fighters first, Coastal Command ship-fighters second and bombers third. I had worked diligently at flying and ground school, and graduated first in the class. On the 10th day of July 1942, my flying log book was endorsed… “proficiency as pilot on type – Above Average”. What more could one ask? Then the world collapsed! I was told that I had received a high mark in Navigation and was, therefore, posted to commence a Navigation Instructor’s course at the Central Navigation School at Cranage. As simple as that!’⁴⁸

      Even after the inception of Operational Training and these other measures, the relative inexperience of crews meant that large numbers of crews were lost in flying accidents, either at OTUs or shortly after arriving on operational squadrons. Lord Mackie, who joined the RAF shortly after the war broke out, recalled that three out of the six crews on his OTU course had been lost in accidents.⁴⁹ Throughout the war 8,117 men were lost in non-operational flying accidents, and 3,985 were seriously wounded. Compared with combat losses (49,585), this was a high percentage.⁵⁰ As Brooke-Popham found in the First World War, heavy combat losses were often followed by a high accident rate, as more inexperienced crews entered the front line.⁵¹ Inexperienced aircrew were not popular additions to squadrons, especially if an established crew had to find a replacement for one of its members. One Sergeant Air Gunner recalled his posting to 10 Squadron at Leeming in September 1941.⁵² His first operations were flown with a crew of sergeants who had already done several sorties. They did not speak to him all the way to the target and all the way back, and, on one occasion, he thought that they must have all baled out but he was too frightened to switch on his intercom and ask. This attitude towards new arrivals was endemic, as ‘green’ crew were inclined to make mistakes when subjected to the physical and psychological stress associated with the first few operations. A former Flight Sergeant in 75 (New Zealand) Squadron commented that one mission was a complete disaster for his aircraft because of a ‘green’ crew member, and how his aircraft was only just able to return to base.⁵³

      As good as the training organisation had become by the mid-war period, it could never fully prepare aircrew for operational reality. However, as in any war, the contrast between doctrinal expectation and wartime reality was greatest at the start of the war. As the official historians comment:

      ‘…when war came in 1939, Bomber Command was not trained or equipped either to penetrate into enemy territory by day or to find its target areas, let alone its targets, by night. There were, of course, some crews [who] had reached higher standards of navigation, bomb-aiming and gunnery. But the character of their aircraft and guns meant that it was impossible for them, however skilful and brave they might be, to face the enemy over his own territory in daytime.’⁵⁴

      The first two years of the war saw the skies being darkened by all the doctrinal chickens coming home to roost. The effects of dogma and budgetary constraint were most apparent in the quality of aircraft and supporting technologies.

      The aircraft that would have to carry the offensive to Germany were either obsolescent or obsolete (Hampden, Wellington, Whitley). All these aircraft, but especially the Hampden, were notorious for their lack of crew comfort. Crews operating the Hampden were quick to christen it the ‘Flying Coffin’. One member of 106 Squadron described the difficulties posed by the cramped conditions in the aircraft:

      ‘… if the pilot was hit or incapacitated, the second pilot – who also carried out the duties of bomb-aimer and navigator as well as being reserve pilot – had to drag him out from his seat by pulling him backwards out of his position, and then crawl into the pilot’s position; a feat which… called for a combination of strength, dexterity, and a blind faith that the aircraft would stay on an even plane during which time this hazardous operation was accomplished.’⁵⁵

      The Hampden also had a particularly draughty cockpit, and crews would return from operations numb with the cold. Frostbite was common among the crews of all these early bombers, which had rudimentary heating systems prone to failure. Having to operate at altitudes of between 15,000 and 20,000 feet, temperatures fell as low as -30 degrees C. Crews were compelled to wear bulky and restrictive clothing, and the extreme cold also affected the oxygen equipment, so that even the simplest tasks became almost impossible. A particularly graphic account exists of a Whitley crew engaged in leaflet-dropping over Frankfurt:

      ‘Everyone was frozen, and had no means of alleviating their distress. The navigator and Commanding Officer were butting their heads on the floor and navigation table in an endeavour to experience some other form of pain as a relief from the awful feeling of frostbite and lack of oxygen.’⁵⁶

      In this respect, aircrew conditions had not improved markedly over the First World War flying in open cockpits.⁵⁷

      Nor had there been any advancement in aids to navigation or bomb-aiming. At the start of the war dead-reckoning and astro-navigation were the basis of long-range navigation. The early crews had none of the radar navigational aids that ultimately appeared in Bomber Command, such as ‘Gee’ and ‘H2S’. The inter-war Air Staff had shown great indifference to, and ignorance of, long-range navigation problems, and this was highlighted by none other than Arthur Harris, when he was Deputy Director of the Plans Division in 1936:

      ‘The trouble with service navigation in the past has been the lack of knowledge and of interest in the subject evinced by senior officers in the service… pilotage and “Bradshawing” have quite wrongly been considered as adequate substitutes for real navigation.’⁵⁸

СКАЧАТЬ