The men of bomber command

Kyt · Oct 29, 2008

The men of bomber command: The pilot, Sir Michael Beetham - Telegraph

Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir Michael Beetham GCB, CBE, DFC, AFC, FRAeS, joined the Royal Air Force as an 18-year-old volunteer in 1941, and flew Lancasters with 50 Squadron, completing a tour of 30 operations over enemy territory.

After the war Sir Michael, now aged 85, flew Valiant bombers in Britain’s Cold War nuclear strike force. He was Bomber Command’s Group Captain (Operations) during the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 and ended his career as Chief of the Air Staff, during which he masterminded the bombing of Port Stanley airport during the Falklands War.

"When the Battle of Britain began in the summer of 1940 I was a schoolboy staying for the summer in Hilsea, just outside Portsmouth, where my father was running an Army training battalion. I saw the German aircraft coming in to bomb the harbour and the Hurricanes and Spitfires cutting into them. It was spectacular and I said to my father: "That’s for me."

I went to the RAF recruiting office when I turned 18 in 1941 and I was lucky enough to be selected for pilot training and sent to America to be taught to fly.

In common with almost all of the other pilots, I was in the slightly peculiar position of being able to fly a four-engined heavy bomber without being able to drive a car. Few people had cars in those days and petrol was rationed so there wasn’t the opportunity to learn.

After being commissioned in December 1942 I trained on Wellingtons and then converted to Lancasters at an Operational Training Unit, joining 50 Squadron, at Skellingthorpe, just outside Lincoln, in October 1943. I was 20 years old and was responsible for a Lancaster and a crew of seven.

It was a pretty intense period for Bomber Command, and when the crew lists were put up on the board for what should have been our first operation, we weren’t on it. I was pretty disappointed, because I was keen to get going, but the Squadron Commander came to see me and said: "The target is Berlin and I think that’s a rather tough one so we’ve left you off this one."

The following night we did make it onto the crew list, so we went to the briefing room, where we were to be told the target and the planned route. When the map was unveiled I was surprised to see that, lo and behold, the target was Berlin. The Squadron Commander shrugged and said: "It looks like it’s going to be all Berlin from now on, so you might as well get on with it."

My first three trips were to Berlin, the most heavily defended city in Germany, but we didn’t get into any trouble until our fourth trip, which was to Leipzig and in theory a much less dangerous sortie.

We dropped our bombs and turned for home when suddenly a fighter came up behind us and started firing. I couldn’t see the fighter but I could see the tracer going into the wing. I was aware that my own gunners were firing back, and then the rear gunner shouted "corkscrew port!" which was the evasive maneuovre we all practised in training and involved banking violently down and to one side to shake off the fighter. The more violent you could make it, the better chance you had of getting out alive.

We managed to shake off the fighter but one of our fuel tanks was holed and we were losing fuel rapidly. I knew we weren’t going to make it back to base but we pressed on and I managed to get as far as Wittering. We all knew the dangers we faced, but that brought it home to us. People sometimes ask how me managed to stir ourselves for each operation knowing it was going to be dangerous, and I think the key was that everyone was behind you.

When you taxied out onto the runway to go on ops the entire base would turn out to wave you on your way. What could you do but press on? I would have been more frightened of chickening out than I was of carrying on, particularly knowing I had six other members of my crew depending on me. At that young age, you also tend to think it will always happen to the other chap, and not to you.

One of my worst memories of the war was the raid on Nuremburg in March 1944, when we lost 96 aircraft and more men than had died in the whole of the Battle of Britain.

We had done 25 ops by then and we were expecting the Nuremburg raid to be cancelled because it was a full moon and we didn’t usually fly during the full moon period because it was too easy for the German fighters to spot us.

When we set off we had a sense that something wasn’t quite right. We were to fly south of the Ruhr valley but there were much stronger winds from the south than had been forecast. I kept telling the navigator that the winds were very strong but the bomber force was being pushed into the Ruhr valley, with its thousands of flak batteries, on a clear, moonlit night. We could see aircraft being shot down around us but I think experience got us through that night, because I knew roughly where we were and how to compensate for the winds to prevent us being pushed into the Ruhr valley.

After completing my tour I was sent to be a flying instructor with 57 Squadron at East Kirkby, but when VE day came I was re-assigned to Tiger Force, the bomber contingent which was due to fly to the Far East to fight the Japanese. I can’t say I was sorry when the Japanese surrendered, because everyone in Britain had been celebrating the end of the war in Europe but we were having to get ready to go to Okinawa to carry on fighting.

I was offered a permanent commission in the RAF when the war ended, which I jumped at, and joined a Lancaster squadron which was sent on a coast-to-coast formation flying tour of America for a five-week good will tour before spending three years in Africa, carrying out photographic surveys for the colonial office to help replace the maps which had been made by the explorer Dr David Livingstone in the 1860s.

From there I was posted to Australia, where I witnessed four test explosions of atomic bombs, then was given command of 214 Squadron, flying Valiants in the V-bomber force before joining Bomber Command Headquarters as Group Captain (Operations).

During the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 I spent a week in the operations room bunker at Bomber Command headquarters, High Wycombe. Macmillan played down the British involvement in the affair, but what people didn’t realise was that we had the entire force of 100 V-bombers standing at 15 minutes’ readiness, bombs loaded and with the crews kitted up and ready to go, to drop nuclear bombs on Russia.

The whole thing seemed unreal. I remember on the Saturday of the critical weekend, when the crisis was at its worst, I went above ground for about 10 minutes to get some air, and the whole nation only seemed interested in some bloody football match.

I finished my career as Air Chief Marshal, meaning I was head of the RAF during the Falklands War. The raid on Port Stanley airport was my idea, because I wanted to find a way in which the RAF could help out. It was too far away to send fighters, but it occurred to me that we might be able to get a Vulcan to the Falklands if it took off from Ascension Island and refuelled mid-air.

We worked out that if a Vulcan loaded with 21 1,000lb bombs did a cross-cut bombing run across the runway it had a 90 per cent chance of getting at least one bomb onto the runway.

I took the idea to the Cabinet and Mrs Thatcher liked it. She was just happy that we were doing anything to attack.

People have questioned the effectiveness of the raid, but what they forget is that it made the Argentinians fear that we would bomb Buenos Aires, and so they pulled their Mirages back to the mainland to defend it, rather than attacking the Sea Harriers over the Falklands.

Just as in the Second World War, we had used bombers not only to destroy targets, but to force the enemy onto the defensive and tie up resources that would otherwise have been used to attack us."
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Kyt · Oct 29, 2008

That was just a taster. Check out the fantastic collection of articles on Bomber Command produced by the Telegraph. Should keep you busy for hours!!!

RAF Bomber Command memorial appeal - Telegraph

Antipodean Andy · Oct 29, 2008

Thanks, Kyt. A good way to raise awareness for the future memorial too.

What a career. This never ceases to amaze me:

I was 20 years old and was responsible for a Lancaster and a crew of seven.
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From memory, the Vulcan did succeed in getting one bomb in the middle of the runway at Port Stanley. An incredible effort. From memory, Victor tankers refueled the Vulcan and each other so they could "stage" their way down. Operation Black Buck, IIRC.

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The men of bomber command

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