Emotional return for Dambusters hero

Kyt · Oct 29, 2008

Emotional return for Dambusters hero - Boston Standard

Wednesday, 10am - A former World War Two bomber ace who flew with the famous 'Dambusters' 617 Squadron has made a poignant and emotional flight in the Battle of Britain Flight Lancaster at RAF Coningsby in Lincolnshire.

Squadron Leader Tony Iveson DFC AE now aged 89 and Chairman of the Bomber Command Association joined Flt Lt Mike Leckey in the cockpit of PA474 "City of Lincoln" Lancaster for a symbolic flight over the Newark Air Museum during a re-dedication service of the memorial plaque to the crew of 619 Squadron Lancaster ME846.

Tony, who prior to joining 617 Sqn had also fought in the Battle of Britain with RAF Fighter Command, as a Sergeant pilot, flying 616 Squadron Spitfires out of Kenley, was joined by journalist Gordon Rayner whose paper the Daily Telegraph yesterday launched a nationwide appeal to raise funds for a permanent memorial to the crews of Bomber Command over 55,573 of whom gave their lives for freedom.

Speaking after his flight Tony said; "Having the controls of the aircraft again affected me in a way that I hadn't really expected.

Thinking about it now, I really don't know how we did what we did, particularly pilots with much less experience than me, whose average age was 20. It's a sobering thought that we lost three and a half thousand of these. The flight has made me realise for the first time in fifty years just how lucky I am, because no matter how skilful you were, it was the luck of the draw whether you survived. It just makes me all the more determined to ensure we build a memorial to those 55,000 who didn't make it back."

Sqn Ldr Al Pinner said; "It is a fitting tribute that in the RAF's 90th Anniversary year, the Daily Telegraph has chosen to launch an appeal to all those people who valiantly gave their lives
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Kyt · Oct 29, 2008

How a former Bomber Boy regained his wings - Telegraph

The last time Squadron Leader Tony Iveson flew a Lancaster bomber on operations, his aircraft was so badly shot-up by a German fighter over Bergen that three of his seven crew bailed out, certain they were just moments from crashing.

But the 25-year-old pilot wasn’t about to be beaten; despite losing an engine and with vital controls out of action, Mr Iveson managed to keep the stricken bomber in the air for several nerve-shattering hours before making an emergency landing on Shetland.

His courage on that day in January 1945 earned him the Distinguished Flying Cross but also signalled the end of his war, in which he had flown more than 20 missions over enemy territory with 617 Squadron, better known as the Dambusters.

After he had come so close to losing his life in a Lancaster, I was unsure how Mr Iveson would react when I tentatively asked him whether, 63 years on, he might like to fly in one again to help launch the Telegraph’s Bomber Command memorial appeal.

"I’d love to!" came his excited reply when I rang him at his home in Oxted, Surrey. At the age of 89, it was clear that his boyish enthusiasm for flying remained undimmed, as did his fondness for an aircraft which got him home safely so many times.

What neither of us knew was that, within weeks, Mr Iveson would not only be airborne but at the controls of a Lancaster, becoming the oldest person to fly the RAF’s most famous bomber.

And as he was to discover, as well as being a thrill it would be one of the most moving experiences of his post-war life, making him look with fresh eyes at the bravery and sacrifice of the 55,573 men who lost their lives flying with Bomber Command.

The once in a lifetime chance to fly in the Lancaster of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight had been offered by Air Chief Marshal Sir Glenn Torpy, the Chief of the Air Staff and a keen supporter of the memorial campaign.

At the end of last month, having spent the night at the Petwood Hotel in Woodhall Spa, Lincs (which had served as 617 Squadron’s officers’ mess in 1944) Mr Iveson and I set off in thick fog for nearby RAF Coningsby, home of the BBMF.

Awaiting us was a sight to set the pulse racing: Lancaster PA474, one of only two airworthy examples of the 7,373 built, and the only one in Europe.

The Lancaster provokes an emotional response from almost anyone who sees it flying at displays up and down the country; up close it seems not so much an aircraft as a living, brooding beast, carrying nobility and menace in equal measure.

"It really was a weapon of war," said Mr Iveson as we climbed aboard. "It looks so big from the outside, but in here it’s quite cramped because of all the weaponry and equipment.

"It was a really tough machine, built for the purpose. I flew 25 different types of aircraft during my career, from Spitfires to heavy bombers, and there was nothing better than the Lancaster for getting the job done. It was a rugged aircraft, which would take a lot of punishment and still be able to fly, as I found out, and that was comforting for us to know when we set off on operations."

PA474 has been beautifully maintained in wartime condition by the RAF and still looks ready for battle. It even has racks filled with hundreds of bullets running down the inside of the fuselage to feed the four cannon in the rear turret.

Was it as Mr Iveson remembered it?

"The smell is there, every aircraft has its own smell and that brings it all back straight away," he said. "The only thing that seems different is that I can’t believe how small the cockpit is. Did I really spend all those hours in such a tight space?"

Mr Iveson, now chairman of the Bomber Command Association, flew Spitfires with 616 Squadron during the Battle of Britain in 1940, and survived being shot down and landing his fighter in the North Sea before his eventual transfer to Bomber Command and more than 20 raids with 617 Squadron, including the sinking of the Tirpitz in 1944.

But on this occasion, as Flight Lieutenant Mike Leckey started firing up the four Merlin engines, Mr Iveson would have to squash into the wireless operator’s seat at the back of the cockpit.

Fiddling mischievously with the Bakelite morse code sender on the tiny desk, he said: "I’d never sat in this position before. It really is a tight squeeze and it’s only now that I realise how difficult it must have been for the wireless operator, sitting here for up to 12 hours at a time."

With all four engines idling, the floor began to judder under our feet, and as Mr Leckey opened the throttles, the giant aircraft accelerated with surprising speed down the runway, pinning me back into my seat. Suddenly the juddering stopped, we were airborne and the Lancaster rose effortlessly above the Lincolnshire countryside.

As Mr Iveson stared out across the aircraft’s wing, I asked him what sort of memories were running through his mind.

"Flying was a huge thrill, and it was a great privilege to fly with my squadron," he said. Then, with the compulsory understatement of the war veteran, he added: "It wasn’t pleasant at night over Germany. We lost 70 aircrew during my time on the squadron. It was something you lived with and something you tried not to dwell on."

I tapped the metal skin of the aircraft, not much thicker than a tin can, thinking just how exposed the men inside a Lancaster must have felt with flak exploding around them. I couldn’t help comparing it with the Volvo I had been driving an hour earlier, with its chunky doors and airbags to cocoon me from the perils of the M11, and suddenly felt faintly ridiculous.

Nor did Lancaster crews have such luxuries as a pressurised or heated cabin. Flying at altitudes where the outside temperature could be minus 40C, they relied on several layers of thick clothing, a flask of coffee and a ration of chocolate.

Half an hour into the flight came our little moment of history. Mr Leckey invited Mr Iveson to slide into the flight engineer’s seat next to him, where he sprung the surprise of asking whether he fancied taking the controls. There was never any doubt what the answer would be.

"It feels absolutely wonderful," said a remarkably composed Mr Iveson as he gripped the control column and put his feet on the rudder pedals.

"I never for a moment thought I would get the chance to do this again."

During the flight, adrenalin kept Mr Iveson focused on the job in hand, but once back on the ground his eyes began to well up as he was finally hit by the enormity of what his younger self and his comrades had gone through.

"Having the controls of the aircraft again affected me in a way that I hadn’t really expected," he confided. "Thinking about it now, I really don’t know how we did what we did, particularly pilots with much less experience than me, whose average age was 20.

"It’s a sobering thought that we lost three and a half thousand of these. This flight has made me realise for the first time in 50 years just how lucky I am, because no matter how skilful you were, it was the luck of the draw whether you survived.

"It just makes me all the more determined to ensure that we build a memorial to those 55,000 men who didn’t make it back."
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Antipodean Andy · Oct 29, 2008

Oh, wow, that's wonderful.

rlaughton · Nov 24, 2008

What a great story .... that was my movie of choice to watch on Remembrance Day 2008 ..... very odd for a Great War buff!

spidge · Nov 25, 2008

rlaughton said: ↑

What a great story .... that was my movie of choice to watch on Remembrance Day 2008 ..... very odd for a Great War buff!
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Hi Richard,

Good to hear from you.

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Emotional return for Dambusters hero

Kyt Άρης

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Emotional return for Dambusters hero

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Kyt Άρης

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Antipodean Andy New Member

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