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This site is dedicated to the Men and
Ladies of the |
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LEAP
YEAR LOSSES: The Rangoon
Air Combat of 29 February 1944 and its Aftermath
British Royal Air Force Sergeant George Plank was unable to fulfill a
straightforward promise made to his wife: to return home from the war.
Flying as a wireless operator/air gunner, George disappeared during a
bombing raid against Rangoon, Burma on the night of 29 February 1944.
He was never again seen alive.
Jessie Poole, my mother, is George's widow.
Since I was a boy I have known the pathetically bare details provided to
Mom by the authorities: namely, that George's bomber was seen to go down at
night over the target in Rangoon, with no parachutes spotted.
Missing, with particulars unknown!
That was it!
By January of 1990, having felt compelled to learn more for the sake of
my family, and with the blessing of both of my parents, I began to investigate
this mysterious man from my mother's past and the wartime tragedy which, twelve
years before my birth, forever separated two young newlyweds from Liverpool,
England.
To my surprise, a simple curiosity about one individual -- not even my
blood relative -- snowballed into a far-reaching quest to untangle the
complicated story of eighteen RAF airmen shot out of the night sky.
They were aboard not one, but a pair of 159 Squadron B-24 Liberator
bombers, christened "Daring
Diana" (RAF serial BZ 962) and
"Pegasus" (BZ 926), which were destroyed in quick
succession by two Japanese fighter planes working in tandem, and in cooperation
with ground-based searchlights, on 29 February 1944.
Of the eighteen RAF victims, just six airmen from "Pegasus"
were captured alive by the Japanese, but only four survived the horrors and
anguish of POW incarceration in Rangoon.
The two men who died in Japanese hands are buried in marked graves in
Rangoon War Cemetery.
Twelve men, including George and his eight crewmates aboard "Daring
Diana", presumably died that night in the aerial encounter or in the
ensuing crashes.
The official announcement was bleak for loved ones back home: no remains
were ever located.
In remembrance of the twelve, their names were engraved on the memorial
to missing Far East airmen at Kranji War Cemetery in Singapore.
But the official word was grossly in error.
A chance find of seven unnamed graves, made during my 1993 visit to
Rangoon, led to a staggering new discovery in 1998 among the records inherited
by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC): the remains of seven
unidentified "Daring Diana"
crewmates have, without a doubt, rested side-by-side in Rangoon War Cemetery
SINCE AT LEAST 1952 -- unbeknownst in subsequent years to the commission which
oversees the graves!
What for the past five years had been mere speculation on my part once
again became a verifiable truth -- only 46 years after the first factual
determination!
Denied of this news for decades, far too few next-of-kin have survived
long enough to be apprised of the joyous revelation.
No more answers appear in the offing, however, and the individual
identities of the seven "Daring
Diana" airmen shall, in all probability, remain a mystery.
***************
In pursuing the story over the past nine years, I have gathered
first-hand combat recollections directly from various participants in the air
battle, both Allied and Japanese.
Detailed accounts reached me straight from the hunter and his victim:
Warrant Officer Bunichi Yamaguchi, one of the two Japanese fighter pilots
who intercepted and destroyed the bombers; and Warrant Officer Donald Lomas, the
sole "Pegasus" airman to
still be alive 55 years after falling to the fighters’ guns and then enduring
the hell on earth that was Rangoon's prison camp.
The perspectives of these adversaries are priceless.
From Dutch sources have come two concise accounts of the air battle
written by Don Lomas’s second pilot (co-pilot), Pilot Officer Johannes "Tommy"
Lentz.
A native of the Netherlands, Tommy survived the war but died in 1972,
shortly after retiring from a distinguished Royal Netherlands Air Force career.
His wartime flight logbook, containing one of these summaries of his
experiences, is on public display with his RNLAF uniform at the Dutch Military
Aviation Museum.
Tommy’s second wartime recollection, recorded in 1951, was discovered
in his RNLAF personnel file.
Though brief, each account is a telltale first-hand glimpse into the
events of 29 February 1944 and after.
I have also located a Japanese war correspondent who witnessed the
downing of the two British bombers from the garden of his Rangoon office.
Bunichi Yamaguchi's personal aircraft mechanic, who saw the battle unfold
above his cowering head, sent me sketches sequentially illustrating how the two
fighter pilots picked off the two bombers held in the searchlights above
Rangoon.
His recollections introduced precious new evidence regarding the crash
site of the Liberator I believe is George Plank’s aircraft.
I have found ex-prisoners of war who were incarcerated in Rangoon with
the six RAF airmen, including an American flyer who was Tommy Lentz’s cellmate
during one of the bleakest stretches.
Another American prisoner with whom I have corresponded risked a severe
beating from guards to cheer on the Allied air raid of 29 February 1944.
He clearly remembers the successive attacks upon the two illuminated
bombers by the trailing Japanese fighters.
Additionally, I made the acquaintance of the senior air force officer in
the jail, Wing Commander Lionel Hudson, whose secret prison diary recorded the
slow death by disease of Jack King, a crewmate of Don Lomas and Tommy Lentz.
From archives in several countries I have amassed a wealth of documentary
evidence which sheds light onto the happenings of 29 February 1944 and after.
I have written over 1500 letters worldwide and have made hundreds of
phone calls overseas in my search for clues.
My research-related travels include five trips to the UK and one to Burma
in order to seek answers.
The surprise awaiting me in Rangoon -- the chance discovery of the seven
unnamed RAF victims of 29 February 1944 -- still seems beyond belief and is the
single most astonishing experience of my life.
My greatest satisfaction is that I have been able to share my findings
with some of those whose lives were most severely impacted by the events of long
ago:
Don Lomas, his family, and loved ones of all seventeen other airmen shot
down with Don.
Among these, I proudly include Jessie, my mother.
On Saturday, the 28th of February 1998, my years of effort
culminated in a Service of Remembrance at London's historic St Clement Danes,
the Central Church of the RAF.
To mark the 54th anniversary of the loss of the two bombers,
120 next-of-kin, friends, and former wartime comrades of the fallen airmen
gathered together to pay their respects to these brave men.
Joining us, as well, was Don, the last survivor.
His stalwart wreath laying in memory of his comrades served to remind all
present of life's often maddening inconstancy, echoed in these words: "There, but for the grace of God, go I."
Punctuating
the majesty of that moment was a trumpeter's sounding of "The Last Post", followed by a minute of introspective
silence, and then by the trumpeting of rejoiceful rebirth, in "Reveille."
Needless to say, we churchgoers shed a small ocean of tears throughout
the service, especially during this most poignant wreath laying.
A post-service gathering immediately followed at one of the most historic
taverns in the City of London, Ye Olde
Cock, built 395 years before the two bombers were lost.
The reception allowed those in attendance a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity to mix in company with so many others sharing a unique, uncommon
bond.
The day was deeply saddening, yet ultimately, and supremely, triumphant;
a reminder of
suffering and loss, it was more so a celebration of, and thanksgiving
for, precious life -- however fleeting and fragile it sometimes can be.
What a magnificent day it was! *************** Biographies
of the Shot
Down over Rangoon, Burma on
29 February 1944 THE
CREW OF B-24 LIBERATOR BZ
926 NAMED
“PEGASUS” (In
Alphabetical Order) CHALCRAFT,
Stanley William, 1807507 Born 9 December 1923 in London Son of William and Elsie Chalcraft of
Enfield, London
Date of RAF
enlistment: 4 July 1942
Missing, declared killed in action, 29 February 1944, age 20 Commemorated
on Singapore Memorial, Column
435 at Kranji War
Cemetery, Singapore
Little
is known about Stan or his family. From
1930 to 1938 the Chalcraft family lived at 167 Southbury Road in Enfield, which
was followed by a move to 40 Buckingham Close, also in Enfield.
Here lived Stan’s parents and his only sibling, a younger brother John,
during Stan’s RAF service career.
Stan
was 5 feet 8 ½ inches tall at the time of his RAF enlistment, with brown eyes
and brown hair. His civil
occupation had been as a dispatch clerk. A
single man and a member of the Church of England, he had no children.
Stan was an ex-member of the Air Training Corps, and it is therefore
surmised that his ambition was to fly. Though
recommended for RAF training as a pilot/observer, he received his “AG” air
gunner’s half-wing brevet instead. The
sortie of 29 February 1944 was his ninth combat “op” (meaning
“operation”) with 159 Squadron, all flown in the month of February aboard
skipper Edward Stanley’s B-24 Liberator.
His operational combat record with the squadron, totaling approximately
82 hours and 20 minutes of night flying, included three sorties of over 10
hours’ duration. A 13 hour and 20
minute trip to Bangkok and back on the 15th was the longest, and his
other destinations were Heho (twice), Thanbyuzayat, Mandalay, Sagaing, Moulmein,
Mingaladon (Rangoon’s aerodrome), and ultimately Rangoon. On
the final flight, Stan switched crew positions with Jack Harris and manned the
mid-upper gun turret rather than the beam gun station assigned to him.
(The squadron records were never amended to reflect this switch.)
He died in the fighter attack or in the ensuing crash of “Pegasus,”
while Jack survived the aerial encounter and his subsequent imprisonment. Sue
Eringer, the sister of Stan’s skipper, recalls visiting the nearby Chalcraft
home with her mother, at which time Mrs. Chalcraft shared details she had
gleaned from one of the four repatriated survivors of “Pegasus.” Don Lomas,
a survivor, remembers sharing this information with Mrs. Chalcraft.
Faced with a delicate situation, Don tried his best to gently tell her
what little he really knew about Stan’s final moments. Stan’s
brother John emigrated to Canada in the early 1950’s but died in Toronto in
1993 without ever learning recently discovered information on his brother’s
disappearance. John had no
children, and the trail leading to other relatives has run cold.
(Stan’s and John’s parents, it was learned, are long deceased.)
Neither John’s former common-law wife nor his closest friends in Canada
were ever told of a brother who had died in World War II. At
the time of his death, Stan’s daily rate of pay was 8 shillings. DAVIS,
Norman John, 1545800 Rank
when shot down: Sergeant Known
as “Ginger” and “Red” Flight
engineer on “Pegasus” Born 20 September 1923
and raised in Northampton Date of RAF enlistment: 23 September
1941 Liberated from Rangoon Central Jail on
3 May 1945 Died of a heart attack in January 1971,
age 47 One
of three siblings (two boys, one girl), Norman was manager of a Northampton
butcher shop when he entered the RAF. At
St. Athan, Wales he was chosen, by the final digit of his service number, for
B-24 Liberator flight engineer’s training, though his classroom-only
instruction did not include hands-on experience with the Liberator.
Having earned his flight engineer “E” half-wing brevet in September
1943, he shipped out late in October to India aboard a convoyed troopship, the Strathmore.
Passing through the Mediterranean on the way to India, the convoy was
attacked one evening at dusk by Axis bombers, but Norman and his ship, albeit in
great danger, survived unscathed. Arriving
in India, Norman was finally introduced to the huge, complex bomber in which he
would fly combat. Posted to 159
Squadron in late January 1944, he flew as a B-24 flight engineer on six ops to
Burma in February (four with skipper Edward Stanley), totaling roughly 47
airborne hours. He participated on
raids to Heho aerodrome (twice, on successive nights), Mandalay marshaling
yards, Sagaing shore railway station, Mingaladon aerodrome (Rangoon), and
lastly, on the fateful 29th, to Rangoon’s Mahlwagon marshaling
yards. In
prison the sight of Norman’s auburn hair intrigued the Japanese guards.
This fact - and his diminutive size (compared to other prisoners) - made
him a favorite target for mistreatment by the guards, but nothing could shake
his easygoing nature. Surely his
mental strength, outwardly showing in his unfailingly friendly disposition, gave
him the edge on his tormentors. His
brother Don attributes Norman’s survival to his marvellous, indomitable
fighting spirit. In the ensuing
years Norman never harboured bitterness toward his former wartime enemies. Norman
met Peg, a farmer’s daughter, after his repatriation to the UK.
Though rationing was still enforced at the time of their 1946 wedding, a
stunning feast awaited the partygoers at the reception.
To Norman’s former crewmate Don Lomas, who had often dreamed of such
bountiful spreads during his PoW confinement, the food was nearly as memorable
as the wedding itself. In
post-war Northampton, Norman took up the boot and shoe trade and also attended
night school. Singing and dance
instruction with his brother brought him contentment during this period.
(In Rangoon, Norman sang when he could - softly and out of earshot of the
guards - as it was forbidden.) With
the birth of twin daughters Wendy and Linda, Norman felt compelled to better
provide for his young family, but opportunities in Northampton were limited.
The foursome moved around: to a foreman’s job in southern Ireland, then
Wales, Worcester, and Burton Latimer, all the while making the most of their
adventures. Residing
in Burton Latimer, Norman suffered his first heart attack at age 40.
A second one came 22 months later, in 1964.
Unable to work full-time after that, he studied bookkeeping and tried
office jobs, but his poor health was a severe handicap, and he was forced to
give up employment altogether in 1970. Peg
and the daughters enjoyed having him at home, especially during the last year of
his life, and despite adversity, they remained a close, happy family. A
BBC Radio broadcast in Northampton, arranged by Stan Sampson, the founder and
Secretary of the 159 Squadron Association, led to the establishment of contact
with the Davis family (via Norman’s pre-war girlfriend, who heard the radio
appeal). Norman is survived by his
widow Peg, brother Don, and daughters Linda and Wendy.
His sister Joyce passed away in 1993.
Reading an account of Norman’s war record in 1994, Wendy’s eldest boy
commented, “Well, my Granddad was a war hero, wasn’t he?”
Indeed he was. HARRIS,
Jack, 1315284 Rank
when shot down: Flight
Sergeant Beam
gunner on “Pegasus” Born 5 January 1923 in Pontypridd,
Wales Date of RAF enlistment: 27 February
1941 Liberated from Rangoon Central Jail
on 3rd May 1945 Died of a heart attack in February
1972, age 49 One
of seven siblings raised in the coal mining village of Ynysybwl, in southern
Wales, Jack was a clever and inquisitive lad.
Unlike his brothers, who went into the coal mines as soon as possible, he
attended grammar school and hoped to go to university one day.
To his dismay, his formal education came to a crashing halt at age 14
when his father commanded him into the mines, to earn his share during the
difficult economic times. “Down
the pit” went Jack, despite his protests.
But he wanted to make something more of his life, and the RAF offered him
a way out of his dilemma. Jack’s
initial training was as a pilot, but he focused instead upon air gunnery and
received superior proficiency ratings in the latter. His final training course in England was at Moreton-in-Marsh,
Gloucestershire, where he formed up with a set aircrew for the first time and
made at least one leaflet-dropping night flight to enemy-held France.
In March 1943 he and his crew, including navigator Bobby Burn (killed
aboard “Daring Diana,” the other aircraft shot down with Jack’s),
completed the long journey to India in a Wellington bomber.
Following a subsequent intense period of transition training to
four-engine B-24 Liberators, Jack’s 159 Squadron career began in April 1943. The
monsoon season wreaked havoc with the squadron’s flying regimen for several
months, but at long last, on the night of 21 October 1943, Jack flew the first
of his 20 combat ops when 159 Squadron bombers raided the Japanese aerodrome at
Heho, Burma. Normally a rear gunner
on Squadron Leader Gordon Clegg’s crew (accounting for 17 of his ops), the 29
February 1944 sortie was an opportunity for him to fly with another crew, as
Squadron Leader Clegg was not scheduled for the Rangoon raid that night.
Thus Jack “filled in” as a substitute gunner on Edward Stanley’s
crew, taking the place of an Australian airman who had just completed his tour
of ops. Initially assigned
the mid-upper gun, he switched positions with beam gunner Stan Chalcraft before
takeoff. This move ultimately saved
Jack’s life, as Stan, in the mid-upper gun turret, was unable to escape the
doomed “Pegasus” while Jack successfully bailed out of the aircraft from his
beam gun position. Jack
met his sweetheart, Ethel, while rehabilitating from his 14-month PoW ordeal.
They married in 1946 and settled in her home town, Leeds, where son Bruce
was raised. Starting as a telegraph
pole installer, Jack steadily advanced through the ranks of the General Post
Office until, at the time of his death, he was Chief Engineer in Leeds. Over
the years he rarely spoke of his wartime experiences, but in the months before
his heart attack he became ever more willing to share his secrets with Bruce,
often over a pint or two of beer. Bruce
was in awe of his big hero dad. Like
most boys, he glamourised war and did not come to the realisation that his
father had suffered terribly until about the time of Jack’s heart attack. Ethel
passed away in Bacup, Lancashire in February 1997: the same month as her
husband’s RAF enlistment, final combat flight, and death 25 years earlier.
Jack is survived by Bruce and by one brother, Dennis, a former RAF cook,
who still resides in Ynysybwl. Jackie
Heal, Dennis’ and Jack’s nephew, also lives in Ynysybwl.
Born late in the war while Jack was missing in action, he was named as a
tribute to his uncle, whose death had been presumed.
Uncle Jack’s inspirational return provided the family with a reason to
never again give up hope so prematurely. The
Harris kin in Wales and in England were located through the efforts of Jack’s
former Wellington pilot, Tony Johnstone. KING,
John William Frank, 1312142 Rank
when shot down: Warrant Officer Known
as “Jack” Rear
gunner on “Pegasus” Born 11 November 1922 Son of
William and Dorothy King of Southampton Date of RAF enlistment: 9 November 1940
Died in Rangoon Central Jail on 31
March 1945, age 22 Buried in Rangoon War Cemetery, Plot 9,
Row B, Grave 6 The
middle of three children and the only boy, Jack was a delicate, attractive child
with curls his sisters envied. He
remained small for his age until late in his teens, but older sister Irene, tall
from a young age, was his faithful protector. Their bond was always exceptionally close.
Irene fondly remembers his terrific sense of humour and friendly
character, exhibited even to strangers. Returning
home on leave from the RAF, Jack took Irene dancing on a number of occasions.
“I must have loved him a lot,” she says laughingly, “because he was
a dreadful dancer!” Sore toes
notwithstanding, she cherishes her precious yet all-too-few memories of their
grown-up moments together. Jack
was an apprentice engineer before volunteering for the RAF.
Though he was raised in a seafaring town and was the son of a seaman (who
had been hired aboard the Titanic but, remarkably, missed its sailing),
his constant boyhood dream was of flying. In
truth, Jack was petrified of water but loved the thought of flying, as long as
he was over land, not water. A
perforated eardrum disqualified him from fighters, but he was quite content with
bombers. Initially hoping to become a wireless operator, he
concentrated instead upon air gunnery, for which he was awarded his “AG”
brevet in 1941. In
April 1942, Jack flew as rear gunner on an aircraft-ferrying trip to the
Mediterranean. The return to
England was indirect: he and his crew were passengers on flights across Africa
to Freetown, Sierra Leone, where they embarked upon a sailing voyage to the UK.
Owing to his water phobia, and to the U-boat menace, Jack slept little on
the return journey. (Don Lomas and Johnnie Westermark were also involved in
similar sailing exploits at the same time, though Jack was not yet crewed with
either). Jack
arrived on 159 Squadron in the late spring of 1943, but the long monsoon season
delayed his initiation into Far East combat flying until October.
Starting on 9 October with a nine-hour raid to Mingaladon aerodrome near
Rangoon, he participated on 27 ops to Burma and Siam, all but one as part of
Edward Stanley’s crew. His operational combat flights totaled approximately 244
hours. Jack
succumbed to beriberi in the arms of his long-time mate, Don Lomas.
In death he was afforded the rare prison honour of a military farewell: a
Union Jack and flower-draped coffin and smart salutes from his loincloth-clad
fellow aircrew prisoners. (This
very same flag flew above the liberated prison slightly more than a month
later.) Jack’s bronze grave marker in beautiful Rangoon War
Cemetery is inscribed with the words “LIFE’S TRIALS PASSED, HIS BATTLE WON,
HE SLEEPS IN PEACE, HIS DUTY NOBLY DONE.” Jack
is survived by Irene (Bellamy), of Southampton, and by their dear cousin, Rita
Blake, also of Southampton. Contact
was made with Irene and Rita after the Southampton Echo newspaper printed
an appeal for help in finding this native son’s family. Like so many of the other kin of the downed airmen, Irene
willingly responded when another reaction - silence and privacy - would have
been the understandable alternative. Though
brought face-to-face once again with a sad chapter from her past, Irene
emphasizes that she has no regrets and is grateful to have been given,
at last, a chance to acquire long-unattainable and deeply personal
knowledge. Jack’s wartime girlfriend has not been located. LENTZ,
Johannes Harmen Hendrik, 149321 Rank
when shot down: Pilot Officer Known
as “Tommy” and “Dutch” Second
pilot (co-pilot) on “Pegasus” Born 19 March 1916 in den Helder,
Netherlands Son of Johannes and Elisabeth Lentz of
Amsterdam, Netherlands Date of RAF enlistment: 26 November
1941 Liberated from Rangoon Central Jail on
3 May 1945 Died of cancer in the Netherlands, July
1972, age 56 Johannes,
an only child, was born and raised in the Netherlands.
In 1936 he entered the Marechaussee, the elite military corps responsible
for watching over the Royal Family and guarding the Dutch borders.
As a patrol commander on the Netherlands-German border, he witnessed the
German invasion of his country on 10 May 1940.
Subjected to frequent Luftwaffe air attacks in the weeks to follow, he
withdrew with Allied forces through Belgium and northern France to the port of
Brest. From there he made his
escape by ship, arriving safely in Plymouth on 11 June.
He spent the next five months in southern Wales on Bristol Channel beach
patrol duties, guarding against enemy raiding parties and infiltrators landed by
U-boats. Eager
to participate more actively in the war, Johannes volunteered for the RAF and
was accepted for pilot training in late November 1941.
After initial schooling near Leicester, he was transported to Canada
under the Empire Air Training Plan, and there he received the bulk of his basic
pilot training in the latter half of 1942.
Returning to the UK in February 1943, he completed his advanced courses
at Church Lawford and Harwell. On
the night of 21 September, Johannes carried out a successful forced landing at
Little Rissington aerodrome following an in-flight fire in the port engine of
his twin-engine Wellington bomber. Johannes
was forbidden from flying above Europe due, in some way, to his Dutch military
past. A posting to India came
through in October, and he joined 159 Squadron late in January 1944.
He was shot down on his seventh combat op, all but the first flown as
Edward Stanley’s second pilot. Having
bailed out of his stricken bomber beyond the target, he was momentarily caught
in the ray of a searchlight and was strafed, but not wounded, by a Japanese
night fighter. In desperation, he
collapsed the parachute canopy to accelerate his dropping speed and received a
swollen knee upon landing. Thirty-six
hours on the run, he was captured by Burmese villagers and turned over to a
Japanese patrol. After
recovering from his PoW ordeal, Johannes was granted a transfer to his native
country’s Royal Netherlands Air Force. His
distinguished career took him from flight instructor, to Air Attaché in
Germany, to Deputy Commander at Woensdrecht, where he retired on an honourable
discharge on 1 January 1969, having attained the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.
His hobbies over the years included horseback riding and swimming.
Upon retiring, he purchased land near Woensdrecht and set to work
designing and building a dream house with a marvellous garden.
Unfortunately, Johannes and his wife, Alida, did not enjoy their new
surroundings for very long, as he fell terminally ill. Now
88, Alida never recovered from the shock of losing her husband.
Reclusive since then, she still resides in Woensdrecht, though in poor
health. She and Johannes had no
children, and of other relatives, only a sister-in-law has been found. Alida
presented Johannes’ uniform, decorations, and flight log book to the
Luchtvaart Militaire Museum (Dutch Military Aviation Museum) in Soesterberg,
where they remain on public display. The
details on Johannes’ life have materialised largely through the efforts of
three people: retired Squadron
Leader Tim Titchmarsh, who flew as a 159 Squadron navigator on the 29 February
1944 raid; translator Stien Vijn-van
Egmond; and Malcolm Mason,
Secretary of the Amsterdam Branch of the Royal Air Forces Association. LOMAS,
John Donald, 1360083 Rank
when shot down: Warrant Officer Known
as “Don” or "Donald" Beam
gunner & 2nd wireless operator on “Pegasus” Born 17 June 1916, raised in
Mytholmroyd, West Yorkshire Date of RAF enlistment: 14 August 1940 Liberated from Rangoon Central Jail on
3 May 1945 Resides in Mytholmroyd with wife Joan Though
an accomplished student, Don left school at age 14 to begin working in the
family woolen textile business founded by his grandfather.
By age 24 the allure of the high seas tickled his fancy, and he set his
sights on entering the Royal Navy. Despite
being fully qualified, he was turned down, and with no regrets he volunteered
for his second choice, the RAF, and was accepted for wireless operator/air
gunner training. Taking
off in a blinding snowstorm in April 1942, Don and his crew (including one
future 159 Squadron crewmate, Johnnie Westermark) ferried a new Wellington
bomber to the beleaguered island of Malta.
At that time, Malta was under frequent Axis air attack and was, says Don,
“a dodgy sort of place to be flying in and out of.”
Despite some tense moments, Don and his crew, on 15 minutes notice, soon
departed for Cairo (as passengers on another aircraft), escaping by several
hours the destruction of the Sergeants’ Mess where they had been billeted.
The crew were then transported by flying boat to Freetown, Sierra Leone,
where they eventually embarked by surface vessels for England. (Johnnie and Don were on separate boats.) Due
to a series of mishaps and a variety of assignments, it was not until April 1943
that Don finally left the UK, via the Middle East, bound for Bengal, India and
159 Squadron. Following the lengthy
monsoon season, his combat career in India commenced on 9 October with a nine
hour op to Mingaladon aerodrome (Rangoon).
Altogether, he flew 27 sorties to Burma and Siam, 25 of which were as
beam gunner/second wireless operator on Edward Stanley’s crew.
Captured the day after he parachuted from the burning
"Pegasus," Don endured beatings, solitary confinement, beriberi,
general malnutrition, and infected scabies during his fourteen month PoW ordeal.
Musically
talented even as a boy, Don has remained a popular pianist with his friends over
the years. So admired were his
skills on keyboard that he was invited to perform on occasion in the 159
Squadron Officers’ Mess, despite his Flight Sergeant’s rank at the time.
(Word of his promotion to Warrant Officer did not reach him until 1945.)
Show tunes, air force songs, ballads, or boogie woogie - they all went
over well with his squadronmates when Don played them.
On such nights his appreciative audience often plied him with drinks; the
only price he paid was for aspirin, if needed the next morning.
Don also contributed musically to "Jankers Away," the
squadron’s morale-boosting Christmas 1943 farcical revue.
In more recent years he has led piano-side sing-alongs at 159 Squadron
reunions. Now
81, Don has outlived all other victims from the two bombers and both of his
one-time aerial foes - the Japanese fighter pilots who shot him down.
(One pilot died in November 1944, the other in 1992 after providing his
unique perspective on the demise of “Pegasus” and “Daring Diana” -- and
an apology.) He finally stepped
down in his late 70’s as partner in the family textile accessories business.
The firm has passed from his grandfather to his father, to Don and his
only sibling (the late Cedric Lomas), and now to Geoffrey, Cedric's son.
Geoffrey can rest assured knowing that sage counsel is only 50 feet away
- in Don’s home adjoining the business. A
soft-spoken man with a devoted wife (Joan), a son, and two daughters, Don
downplays his experiences in serving his country, which he calls “not very
spectacular compared to some.” He
considers himself exceedingly fortunate in life, and this includes all of his
wartime experiences. He is an
inspiration for having pressed on with his post-war life rather than wallow in
the sadness that he witnessed. Don’s
whereabouts in Mytholmroyd were discovered by Stan Sampson, the founder and
Secretary of the 159 Squadron Association. O’DONOHUE,
Thomas John Royal
Australian Air Force No. 404487 Rank
when shot down: Flight Lieutenant Observer
(navigator/bomb aimer) on “Pegasus” Born 24 August 1919, raised in
Brisbane, Australia Son of Michael
(died 1936) and Mary Theresa O’Donohue Date of RAAF enlistment: 13 September
1940 Missing, declared killed in action, 29
February 1944, age 24 Commemorated on Singapore Memorial,
Column 443, at Kranji War Cemetery, Singapore Single,
and one of 13 siblings, Tom was educated at the Star of the Sea Convent and
Nudgee College. Always keen on
sports, he represented Nudgee at football and the Brisbane Taxation Department
at swimming and football. He was
also a member of the Bilinga Lifesaving Club.
Inspired by the heroic RAF during the Battle of Britain, he left his
promising job as a clerk in the Taxation Department for the honour of serving in
the air force. As an observer
(later called navigator), he began his first operational tour in October 1941
aboard twin-engine Wellingtons of 150 Squadron (Snaith, Yorks), following the
completion of his training in Australia, Canada, and the UK.
After
14 ops he was posted in March 1942 to 460 Squadron (RAAF), comprised primarily
of Australians and based at Breighton, Yorks.
His Wellington combat flying continued against targets in France and
Germany, and his reputation as a top-notch observer (and bomb aimer) grew.
On 12 April, when returning from a raid on Essen, Germany, his aircraft
was attacked by night fighters and he suffered a bullet wound through his right
thigh. Despite considerable pain
Tom remained at his post and skillfully navigated his severely damaged aircraft
back to the English coast, all the while keeping his injury a secret until the
aircraft had safely landed. Following
a six week recuperation, he rejoined 460 Squadron for 10 more ops, including
several as the observer of choice aboard the Wellington of his mate, Bill Brill
(one of Australia’s most outstanding and highly decorated wartime pilots).
Tom successfully completed his tour on 2 September.
His impressive record and particularly his fortitude on the night of 12
April were recognized by the award of the Distinguished Flying Medal, presented
to him at Buckingham Palace by King George VI personally.
“Pluckiest Hero of Air Squadron,” read the headline to a story of his
exploits printed in his hometown newspaper.
“My son! Oh, I’m so
proud,” exclaimed his mum to the press when cabled the news of Tom’s award.
Typically modest, Tom’s reaction to his decoration was this: “I am
buggered if I know what it is for.” After
a short stint as an instructor, Tom lobbied for, and won, a new posting to
operational flying duties. Assigned
in 1943 to 159 Squadron in India, he was pleased to take on a more immediate
threat to his beloved homeland: the Japanese.
All but two of his 27 ops with 159 Squadron were flown as Edward
Stanley’s navigator, and his hard-earned combat experiences ultimately led to
his assignment as Squadron Bombing Leader.
Tom
had a premonition that he would not come home from the op of 29 February.
Prior to take-off, he handed his Distinguished Flying Medal to a fellow
Australian with instructions that it be personally delivered to his widowed
mother in Brisbane. The day Mrs.
O’Donohue finally received her missing son’s DFM was uniquely tragic, as it
was the same day that word of her son Pat's
death arrived from England. He,
too, was in the air force and had been shot down and killed over Germany. Tom
died in the fighter attack or in the ensuing crash of “Pegasus.”
He is survived by one brother, Jack, and four sisters, all of whom reside
in Australia. Several wartime
letters, telegrams, newspaper cuttings, and Tom’s medals and logbook remain
within the family to remind them of one kinsman’s courage and sacrifice over
half a century earlier. The
O’Donohue kin were found through the assistance of Ivor Smith of Gosford East,
Australia, who is the nephew of another missing 159 airman from later in the
war. STANLEY,
Edward James Douglas, 114064 Rank
when shot down: Flight Lieutenant Pilot
of “Pegasus” Born 19 March 1922 in London Son of Edward and Ida Stanley of
Potters Bar, Middlesex Date of RAF enlistment: 26 July 1940 Missing, declared killed in action, 29
February 1944, age 21 Commemorated on Singapore Memorial,
Column 432, at Kranji War Cemetery, Singapore One
of two children of a London Transport Board Inspector and his wife, Edward was
educated at Minchenden School in Southgate, London, where he was a student from
1933 to 1939. Little
is known about his RAF experiences until his first mention in the 159 Squadron
records on 5 April 1943. As a green
pilot on 159 during that spring, Edward was put through the paces flying
simulated bombing runs, performing “circuits & landings” (circuits of
the airfield and practice takeoffs and landings), and undergoing fighter
affiliation training, all under the tutelage of “old bod” pilots usually
beside him on the B-24 flight deck. In
addition to his first op of 5 April, Edward completed four more combat sorties
as second pilot (co-pilot), although on another occasion, 24 July, his pilot
(skipper) and he returned the aircraft to base far short of the target after
encountering severe, impenetrable thunderstorms.
This flight did not count as an op in the official records. Due
to the intense monsoon season, Edward did not fly again in combat until 9
October’s raid to Mingaladon aerodrome (Rangoon). By then, having qualified to become skipper of his own
bomber, he had been assigned to an already established crew which included four
of the airmen who were shot down with him: Don Lomas, Johnnie Westermark, Jack
King, and Tom O’Donohue. Replacing
a popular veteran pilot who had trained with the crew, had flown them to India,
and had earned their deep trust, the far less experienced Edward would, in time,
win the respect and loyalty of his skeptical new crew. It is a testament to his skill as a pilot and leader
that his final 27 official combat ops, starting with 9 October, were as skipper.
In total, Edward participated on 32 ops, two more than were required to
complete a tour. These
included nine sorties to the Rangoon area and four to Bangkok. Mention
of Edward's name has brought forth expressions of admiration and astonishment
from several ex-159 Squadron pilots. It
utterly confounded some of his peers how such a small and wiry young lad could
possess the strength to manhandle the behemoth four engine B-24 Liberator, but
Edward made it seem easy. In truth,
it was no simple task for even the most powerful of pilots.
Retired Group Captain John Musgrave, a seasoned pilot assigned to 159
Squadron during most of Edward’s tenure, remembers him as a very good and
conscientious pilot. 159
Squadron documents held at the Public Records Office offer an insight into the
less glamourous side of Edward’s career.
On 4 October 1943, for example, it is noted that Edward became Squadron
Welfare Officer. This assignment
proved thankless one morning when a handful of men, upset over inferior food for
several days straight, vented their outrage on their young Welfare Officer.
Edward was able to quell the uprising and to affect some improvement.
On 15 November 1943 it is noted that he assumed the duties of Officer In
Charge Of Mail, overseeing, among other things, the censoring of outgoing
letters and the distribution of arriving correspondence.
Such tasks, however mundane, were important for overall squadron
effectiveness, and if nothing else, they helped Edward to alleviate the boredom
of non-operational life in India. Single,
Edward is survived by his sister, Sue, who faithfully wrote him weekly letters
until the war’s end, in the hope that he would receive them, via the Red
Cross, in a prison camp. Sue,
residing with her husband in London and the South of France, was located through
a Potters Bar Times newspaper story.
In 1982 their son, Robert Eringer, a writer now living in Washington, DC,
dedicated his first book, Strike for Freedom!, to the uncle he never
knew. Robert's dedication reads
simply but poignantly: “In Memory of EDWARD STANLEY.” WESTERMARK,
John, 176353 Rank
when shot down: Warrant Officer Known
as “Johnnie,” “Jock,” and “Westy” 1st
wireless operator/air gunner on “Pegasus” Born 28 April 1921, raised in Bucksburn,
Scotland Son of John and Lizzie Westermark Date of RAF enlistment:
3 August 1940 Died in Rangoon Central Jail on 10
December 1944, age 23 Buried in Rangoon War Cemetery, Plot 5,
Row E, Grave 10 The
son of grocers who ran their own shop, Johnnie was himself an apprentice grocer
with the Aberdeen Northern Coop Society when he joined the RAF with a keen
desire to fly. It was assumed by
Johnnie’s mum and dad that he would eventually take over the running of the
shop - something that Johnnie did not favour.
It was therefore a strange kind of relief when he joined the air force.
A tall, fair-haired “keep fit” athlete, he is remembered by his mates
for his physical presence and his enthusiasm for football.
He was a devoted fan of bandleaders Artie Shaw and Glenn Miller, and he
played the mandolin. He was also a
fine student. Johnnie’s
posting to No. 21 Operational Training Unit in Moreton-in-Marsh, Gloucs. in late
1941 proved to be a blessing: there he met his fiancée Eileen, a local
farmer’s daughter. So enamoured
of Eileen was Johnnie that he carried a lock of her hair in his wallet as a
tangible reminder of his sweetheart whenever they were separated.
Early
in his RAF career Johnnie flew twice as a wireless operator from England to the
Mediterranean: first, to deliver a much-needed Wellington bomber to besieged
Malta in April/May 1942, followed
by a non-stop UK-to-Cairo (and return) petrol delivery flight in November 1942,
at the pinnacle of the Battle of El Alamein.
Returning from the first trip via Africa, the boat transporting Johnnie
back to England from Sierra Leone broke down in mid-voyage, with no naval
escort. A fear of U-boat attack was
rife, but the engine was hastily repaired and the voyage continued without
incident. (Johnnie was on a
different boat from Jack King and Don Lomas.) In
the spring of 1943 a posting to India came through for Johnnie and his B-24
crew, which by then included Don Lomas, Jack King, and Tom O’Donohue.
Departing the UK on 4 April, they did not arrive at their Bengal, India
destination, 159 Squadron, until 2 June due to long delays in repairing a petrol
leak in Egypt and serious engine damage from a vulture strike in Karachi.
(Bored and annoyed by the long trip, Johnnie’s mood was worsened by an
unwelcomed surprise one night at
Karachi: a snake had taken refuge in his tent.)
At 159 Squadron, an aborted trip on 24 July, foiled by severe weather,
was Johnnie’s only chance at combat until 13 December, due to the
monsoon-caused halt in flying ops and a five week hospitalisation in September
and October (for an unspecified illness). Despite
12 more days in hospital in February, Johnnie was fit to fly a total of 15
combat ops with 159 Squadron. All
but one sortie were as Edward Stanley’s wireless operator.
Crossing the Bay of Bengal during one night op to Rangoon, Johnnie
recognized flashing lights 50 miles off the Burma coast.
As it seemed to be an SOS distress signal, Edward ordered a break in
radio silence, strictly forbidden, to allow Johnnie to report the sighting by
wireless. Johnnie’s sharp vision saved the lives of several downed
American flyers who were subsequently rescued by a Royal Navy boat despatched
from Ceylon. There were no
penalties meted out for the infraction of breaking radio silence. Johnnie
is survived by his only sibling, Sheila James of Ammanford, Wales; his first
cousin, Ian Stables of Warfield, Berks; and fiancée Eileen Sealey of Cuddington,
Cheshire. Himself a pilot, Ian has
on occasion found himself thinking of his older cousin when flying high above
the earth. “Sometimes,”
he says, “I’m sure Johnnie is looking after me when I am up solo,
which can be very lonely.” Ian was discovered through an appeal printed in the
Aberdeen Herald & Post; Sheila was found via the Internet UK
telephone directory; and Eileen through good luck.
Johnnie’s
grave marker in Rangoon is inscribed with the words “TOO DEARLY LOVED TO BE
FORGOTTEN BY HIS
MUM, DAD, AND
SISTER.”
THE CREW OF
B-24 LIBERATOR BZ 962 NAMED
“DARING DIANA” (In
Alphabetical Order) ARNOLD,
Allan Edward Royal
Australian Air Force No. 420112 Rank
when shot down: Flight Sergeant Pilot
of “Daring Diana” Born 30 August 1918 Son of John and Christina Arnold of
Lindfield, NSW, Australia Date of RAF enlistment: 11 October 1941 Missing, declared killed in action, 29
February 1944, age 25 Commemorated on Singapore Memorial,
Column 444, at Kranji War Cemetery, Singapore A
tall, introspective, and modest man, Allan was the son of a Lindfield dentist
and his wife. He was educated at
Knox Grammar, a private boys’ school on Sydney’s North Shore, and was
employed by an insurance firm before volunteering for the air force. In his initial training course at Bradfield Park, NSW, he
took a serious approach to his studies, intent upon winning a recommendation to
a pilot training course. Allan
wanted to “do something about winning the war,” says Boy Cory, his mate at
Bradfield Park, and as a pilot he felt he could truly contribute.
His diligence was rewarded with his selection for elementary flight
training in Australia in the spring of 1942. Allan
arrived in Canada in mid-August to continue his training in the skies over
Calgary, Alberta. Another sea
journey brought him to England in late winter, 1943, where advanced flight
training at Andover was followed by a posting to No. 15 Operational Training
Unit at Harwell, Oxfordshire. Here,
at Harwell, Allan improved his efficiency in piloting a Wellington bomber on a
variety of exercises, with added emphasis placed upon night flying.
Here, too, he formed up his aircraft’s crew, becoming, in effect, the
leader of a team of specialists for the first time. Michael
Davis, an air gunner on the crew, became Allan’s inseparable mate, despite an
age difference of six years. On
rare days off they journeyed to visit Michael’s
relatives, including his Nottingham cousin, Mary Lee Levers.
With Mary Lee’s friend Sheila making it a foursome, they spent
delightful days strolling, chatting, and playing games of croquet, tennis, and
lawn bowling, all the while laughing and forgetting about the war.
In their brief time together, Allan and Mary Lee became close platonic
friends, while Michael and Sheila fell in love.
A glorious September weekend in London - spent dancing, dining, and
visiting Kew Gardens - was their last time together. In
August and September 1943, Allan piloted 12 night ops over the Continent,
against sometimes fierce opposition. (It
is not clear if Michael was with him at this time).
On 7 September Allan’s Wellington was shot up by fighters over Brest,
and ten nights later, on a Dusseldorf raid, his rear gunner was killed in an
attack by an Me 410 fighter. Finally, on 25 September, his Wellington was severely damaged
by flak over Cherbourg and by two marauding Ju 88 fighters over the English
Channel. With the starboard engine
on fire, Allan skillfully ditched in the Channel, and the crew’s dinghy was
spotted 10 ½ hours later by a rescue launch.
All aboard survived their harrowing experience. After
an arduous flight from the UK to India, Allan arrived at his new assignment, 355
Squadron, in October. With too many
crews and too few bombers on the squadron, Allan kept proficient by flying 410
non-combat hours as a C-47 Dakota transport pilot between 20 October and 8
December. Finally, after conversion
training on B-24 Liberators (when he probably flew as second pilot on two combat
ops), Allan was posted with crewmates Tony Burgess and Michael to 159 Squadron
in late January 1944. Beginning
with a sortie to Heho aerodrome in Burma on the night of 4 February, Allan flew
nine ops with the squadron: four as second pilot and the last five as first
pilot (skipper). One
of three siblings, Allan is survived by his brother’s widow, Bobbie Arnold,
and by a niece and nephews in Australia. His
late sister’s daughter, Diana Sheinberg, proudly wears the sapphire that Allan
purchased in Calcutta days before his last flight.
Allan’s girlfriend, Mary Lee Peebles (née Levers), currently resides
in Wollaton, Nottingham and has visited the Arnold kin in Australia on several
occasions over the years. These folks were contacted through the help of Joyce Hill,
sister of Michael Davis. BURGESS,
Desmond Riversdale Anthony, 1659085 Rank
when shot down: Sergeant Known
as “Tony” Beam
gunner on “Daring Diana” Born 3 May 1924 Son of Jimmy and Ruth Burgess Date of RAF enlistment: 21 July 1942 Missing, declared killed in action, 29
February 1944, age 19 Commemorated on Singapore Memorial,
Column 435, at Kranji War Cemetery, Singapore |
