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Being of the age where as a child "What did your dad do in the war" was common place in the playground School boys memories, I took a lot of interest in what my father did during the war.
My Late Father was a Tail Gunner with 170 Squadron, Bomber Command,RAF Hemswell Lincolnshire Joining up on 06/12/1943 aged 18 and served with the RAF until 09/05/1947.
When Sunday afternoons consisted mainly of Black & white war films, I took great delight in sitting with my dad and listening to the merits & faults of various aircraft and some more accurate details than of those portrayed on the screen.
During my younger years, dad never really went into much detail of what his personal experiences where, only the sense of pride and comradeship that he felt towards his crew and the Lancasters he flew in was obvious. Not until later on in life when I was much older did he reveal some of the reality of his war when he began to relate more details, did I understand why he was so against my brother and I going into the forces.
When you consider that the average life span of a Tail Gunner was 3 operations, my father completed 29 which are logged in his flying log book, one op short of a full tour I believe. This together with many "manna" drops towards the end of the war and the recovery and return of ex POW's back to England. I remember asking what went through his mind on take off, the most startling reply was"watching some one being hosed out of a rear turret that had been hit and caught fire on a previous op as you were about to set off down the runway". I believe some of the most haunting sights were those he witnessed in Germany after the war in Hitlers "Final solution".
Dad kept in contact with his crew, and I remember a reunion in 1965 as a small boy when they all came to the The Sir Charles Napier in Leicester were my parents were managers for James Holes Brewery. I have pictures of the crew together during the war and also at ther reunion some 20 years later. The Skipper or as the crew refered to as " the old man" was Pilot Officer Hutley who I believe was 22 years old when he was piloting Lancaster Mk III K for king. I also remember that the bomb aimer "Jerry" became a priest after the war and that both pictures of them as young men and 20 years later, they all look very proud, and rightly so, a team forged together through circumstance, each relying on the other for their lives, heros every one of them. Father was at the dedication to 170 Squadron at Hemswell for those who did not return home and all those stood at that dedication stood straight and proud as they did all so many years ago.
My fondest memory though is our visit to the Battle of Britain Memorial flight in 1990 whom my brother had contacted and where father was given a VIP tour and once again he was allowed to climb aboard the lancaster, as expected it was a very emotional day for all concerned but one I will never forgot.
Sadley we lost my father in 1991, I have visited Hemswell several times, now a sunday market and antiques centre. It is haunting to walk in the footsteps of your father and try to imagine his thoughts and feeling he felt some 58 years previously and look down what is left of the runway and imagine those numerous heavy bombers thundering off one after the other to the muster point over Great Yarmouth, not knowing if they would return.
I was fortunate to be given a flight in a 1941 Tiger Moth Trainer by my wife for Christmas, a boys dream come true and also presented by my mother with fathers original Uniform hat, that was tucked under my flying Jacket and the forage hat took to the air again some 60 years later.
I look skyward now when I hear that distinctive sound of Merlin engines, more so now the Dakota of the memorial flight of which was fathers last type of aircraft in his his log book and flew home in, and I wave at them, long may they fly in tribute to those that we owe such a great debt to for the freedom they secured for us at such a heavy cost.