Chapter Seven - The Missile Onslaught
IN 1943, the war in Europe was now flowing strongly in favour of the Allies. Following the rout at Stalingrad late in 1942, the German army under Von Paulus surrendered, and in May, North Africa was finally cleared of the enemy, with something like a quarter of a million prisoners being taken.
Specially adapted Lancaster bombers, under Wing Commander Guy Gibson, had breached the Ruhr dams with a revolutionary bouncing bomb, we were gaining the upper hand in the Battle of the Atlantic, Italy had surrendered, and the British and American forces were threatening Rome. There was much talk of a 'second front' but the formidable fortifications of Hitler's 'Atlantic Wall' and the disastrous raid on Dieppe put back any thoughts of doing this until we had sufficient strength in men and equipment to completely overwhelm the enemy.
Round the clock bombing by the British and American air forces was undoubtedly having a devastating effect. This, and the massive amount of men and materials which the enemy had to commit to the Russian and Italian fronts and the defensive system of the Atlantic Wall, meant that the threat of invasion had now passed. From our point of view, the most obvious sign of this was an announcement that signposts could be put back. At last it seemed, in more ways than one, that we knew where we were-going.
By the end of April 1943, the order forbidding the ringing of Church bells had been lifted, and by the end of the year there was an appeal in Ferryden for ringers to replace those who had died or were away on war service. A number of 'us choirboys' and a few girls were quite keen on the idea, and we volunteered. The art of campanology opened up a whole new world, and we soon became 'hooked' on this absorbing pastime, taking every opportunity to travel around the countryside on bicycles, or cadge lifts in cars, to ring in neighbouring church towers.
Although the tide of war had turned in favour of the Allies, the German air force was still very active in Southern England. The people of Ferryden experienced many sleepless nights, and the enemy were constantly trying out new ideas. Fighter bombers were extensively used, and there were a number of new weapons. One night in particular, we were awakened by the noise of aircraft and anti-aircraft guns opening up from Atenbridge. Suddenly, we saw a streak of light travelling across the sky at tremendous speed and descending at a shallow angle. It disappeared from view within seconds, to be followed by a flash and an enormous explosion.
The next day we went to investigate, and discovered that some power lines, suspended from pylons in a field, had been severed. Several hundred yards further on there was a huge crater, large enough to contain one or two double decker buses. On making enquiries, George was told that this was a rocket bomb which had been released from an enemy aircraft. The fact that it landed in open countryside indicated that the pilot had either lost his way, thought he was over a target when he wasn't, or had been hit and jettisoned his load to escape.
In spite of having some sophisticated equipment, navigation did seem to be a problem with the Germans. There was one instance in particular when a fighter bomber landed at an aerodrome near Ferryden during a night raid and was captured intact. The pilot had mistaken a lighted runway for his own base in Northern France, and had suspected nothing until he climbed out of his cockpit to be taken prisoner.
The German air raids continued into 1944 but it was becoming increasingly obvious that the 'second front' would not be long in coming. General Eisenhower had been appointed Supreme Allied Commander, and we saw a lot more daylight activity by the American Air Force. I can remember seeing large numbers of B17s flying on the outward journeys, and I saw them come back. They always seemed to be in perfect formation but their appearance on the return journeys told its own story.
Some had one or two engines out, others had holes in the wings or bits missing. One had half the tailplane shot away, and was in such a mess that it must have been kept in the air by 'sky hooks'. It was a credit to the manufacturers and the skill of the pilots that these aircraft were able to take such punishment and still keep flying.
Another indication that the invasion of France would not be long was the concentration of Allied forces in and around Ferryden. Troops (mostly Canadians), Sherman tanks and equipment were everywhere. The Americans were in evidence too, and proved an irresistible attraction for some of the village girls. We were naturally curious about all of these strange service people and their weapons, and one or two of us were allowed inside the tanks to see how they worked. We were also subject to a few questions, enquiring about any sisters we may have and how old they were.
The countryside was full of soldiers. There were marquees in the fields with tanks, trucks, guns and 'Jeeps' under trees or in the bushes. No matter where you went, men were armed to the teeth, and there was one training exercise after another. We all knew that the second front had to come soon, but where and when was a mystery.
Of particular interest to 'us boys' at the time was the introduction of American built heavy goods locomotives to our railway system. It was all part of the build-up, and these enormous engines had a bewildering range of attachments that we had never seen outside the cinema. They had 'cow catchers', bells, headlamps, eight driving wheels, stove pipes, and an array of piston and connecting rods that made our own engines look like contributions from Toyland.
I well remember one evening, sitting round the camp fire with some Americans and Canadians, when one of these monsters came through pulling a train of wagons that seemed to be endless. The earth shook as it went by and it sounded more like an enormous diesel, with just a tell-tale wisp of steam coming from the cylinder exhausts. One of the Americans, who seemed to be more interested in sorting out his chewing gum, suddenly looked up and remarked "Gee, that's what you call a locomotive!" Whether or not the engineer saw us admiring from a distance I shall never know, but just as the train was passing he sounded the whistle. A cloud of steam ascended from the top of the boiler, and there was a satisfying 'WOW-WOW', in true Santa-Fe fashion, as it thundered on.
Suddenly, on June the 6th 1944, 'D- Day' arrived, but the landings were not where we thought they would be. From all the activity in Southern England and around Ferryden, we thought they would be just across the channel and not on the Normandy beaches. At that time we did not know there was at deception plan, but we were fooled just as much as the Germans.
The elation we all felt as a result of the second front was soon to be tempered by yet another twist in the drama of war. The V1s, or 'Doodle Bugs' as the Americans called them, had arrived. We had been warned by the Prime Minister that the Germans had developed a new terror weapon in the form of a pilotless aircraft, and that we must brace ourselves for yet another onslaught. Even so, we were astonished by the advanced technology of the missile, its speed, and the quantity of high explosive it contained. It was almost like a return to the dark days of 1940. The missiles had to negotiate a defensive wall of anti-aircraft guns near the coast, a fighter screen as they progressed inland, and an array of barrage balloons defending London.
We were particularly intrigued by the erection of a hydrogen generating plant just outside the village. This was constructed on a wharf by the river. It had an array of pipework, cylinders, pumps and a small water sealed holder which made it look like a miniature coal gas works. 'Start up' trials were held, and we were privileged to see the first barrage balloon fill up with gas. After that, I can never remember seeing it working and we were all rather puzzled about its eventual use.
As with the dark days of 1940, Ferryden was towards the end of the fighter zone, and witnessed some extraordinary feats of daring and bravery by our men. Normal combat tactics did not apply, as a fighter coming too close to its quarry risked being blown to bits if the warhead exploded. Additionally, the lack of a pilot meant that extra care had to be taken to avoid bringing these aircraft down in heavily populated areas. Another problem was the speed of the missiles. Only a few of the Allied aircraft, notably the Hawker Typhoon and the newly introduced jets, had a chance of catching them.
One tactic was for a fighter to fly alongside the missile, place a wingtip under its wing and flip it over, causing the gyro to malfunction. This was a dangerous manoeuvre, but it proved to be very effective. Another tactic was to try and disable the gyro by a quick burst of fire. This was undoubtedly effective but could be unnerving for the civil population.
I can remember one such incident when a missile, having been damaged by one of our fighters, cavorted about the skies over Ferryden. It veered off course with smoke and flames coming from an engine, which still seemed to be functioning, went round in circles for a minute or two, and then plunged towards the village. We thought the end had come when, suddenly, it began to climb, flattened out, and sped off into the distance to crash with a huge explosion in open countryside.
Another incident involved a missile which had been damaged by a fighter and flew into the cable of a barrage balloon stationed near a village several miles away. It slid down the cable and crashed into a row of houses, killing several of the occupants.
Like many of the happenings in wartime Britain, there were amusing incidents as well as the more frightening ones. As might be expected, the Germans were predictable in the pattern of their attacks. The missiles flew in three lanes at pre-set altitudes, and came over in waves a few minutes apart. One lane was to the South of the village, one directly overhead, and one to the north. We knew that they were destined for the capital, and unless they were damaged posed little or no immediate threat to us. The 'alarm bells' sounded when they were being shot at, or when an engine stopped.
One Saturday morning, after Father had gone to work, George got up a little earlier than usual to make some tea. The air raid warning sounded as he went downstairs, and the first salvo of missiles was soon passing overhead. These went over without incident, and he had just put Muffet out to do what dogs have to do, when he saw a Doodle Bug coming our way and heard the engine cut out. He knew that this could mean trouble, and went into overdrive.
The safest place in the event of a near miss or direct hit was considered to be under the stairs, and he rushed into the bedrooms, pulled Mother out of bed and woke me up. "No time to explain," he snapped, "just get under the stairs". He went back outside, got hold of the dog, and joined us a few moments later. By this time, Mother and I realised what was wrong and held our breath, waiting for the explosion. For a minute or so nothing happened and just as we were congratulating ourselves that the danger had passed, there was a loud bang which shook all of the windows and doors.
In the event, the Doodle Bug had passed directly overhead and landed in some marshy ground a mile or so away, where it blew up, plastering a nearby house with mud. When I look back on the incident, it was evident that George, who was never inclined to rush about, had moved with lightning speed. The missile was probably no more than a mile away when the engine cut out, and he had got us all to 'safety' in a matter of seconds. We have often had a good laugh about this, Mother maintaining that he never moved so fast "before or since".
Another incident which caused some amusement happened on a Friday afternoon, about an hour or so after we had finished school. About half a dozen of 'us boys' including Charlie Daws, were having fun and games on a local farm when the Germans launched an air attack. As usual, the Doodle Bugs came over in waves, at predictable heights, and in three lanes. The anti-aircraft guns had already been in action, but there were no fighters about and we stood and watched as, one after another, the missiles flew towards the barrage balloons. Most disappeared into the distance, but one or two hit the cables generating a satisfying ball of smoke and flame as they exploded.
In one or two cases, we were intrigued to see the balloons race skywards as cables were severed. We were so absorbed in this that we failed to notice what was going on behind us. By sheer chance, right in the middle of this spectacle, I happened to look round and saw what appeared to be a very large aircraft about to crash a few hundred yards from us. I yelled at the top of my voice for everybody to take cover, and dived headlong into a clump of stinging nettles. I had barely reached the ground when there was a huge explosion which shook the farmyard buildings and scattered dust everywhere.
We were all a bit dazed as we got to our feet, and Charlie looked and smelt as though he had fallen into the duck pond. The 'aircraft' was of course a Doodle Bug which had landed about half a mile away on the edge of a wood. It did little damage, apart from a few broken windows sustained by nearby houses. We suffered a few bruises and some discomfort from the stinging nettles, but were otherwise unhurt. Charlie had some explaining to do when he got home, but that was not at all unusual.
Bombardment from land based Doodle Bugs continued until later in the year when the channel ports and launching sites were overrun. Even then, planes were used to air launch the missiles, and we had to brace ourselves for the onslaught of V2s. The V2 was technically an enormous advance on the V1. It was a true space rocket, leaving the atmosphere before it plunged earthwards at supersonic speed. It exploded with devastating force, followed by shock waves as it broke through the sound barrier.
We had never experienced anything like this before. It was almost like science fiction becoming a reality. We couldn't see it, we couldn't hear it, there was no warning, and the craters it left were massive. They were big enough to get several double decker buses in. This was an awesome weapon, and there was no defence.
Overall, eleven 'V' weapons landed in the district administered by Ferryden, but this accounted for only a small fraction of the missiles which passed overhead. We were thankful that the Allies had landed in France when they did, and that the threat would recede as the armies advanced. I hate to think what might have happened if Hitler had used the weapons when originally intended, and we had not destroyed as many launch sites as possible, or slowed up the development at Peenemunde.
After D-Day, things seemed to happen at a bewildering rate. There was an attempt on Hitler's life, landings in the South of France, the liberation of Paris, and the death of Rommel. We were all disappointed that the attempt on Hitler's life had not succeeded, but there was genuine sorrow at the untimely death of Erwin Rommel. Although he was a formidable enemy, he was an honourable man and much respected by ordinary people on both sides, as well as the soldiers who fought for or against him. 1944 went well for the Allies, but the 'V' weapons, the defeat at Arnhem, and the shock of the 'Battle of the Bulge' indicated that the enemy was not yet in a mood to capitulate.
Footnote
According to official records, between June 1944 and March 1945, more than ten thousand V1 flying bombs (or "Doodlebugs") were targeted at the South East of England, most having been launched from bases in Northern France. Although many were undoubtedly destroyed in flight by fighter aircraft, anti-aircraft guns and tethered balloons, it is believed that a total of some two and a half thousand flying bombs reached targets in either London or Kent.
