For the 2076 days that the war in Europe lasted, Bomber Command aircraft were operational on almost every day. The Command controlled 128 airfields from which some 365,000 sorties were dispatched. However, this effort and achievement was not without its cost. The enemy’s defences were formidable; the Luftwaffe a tenacious opponent. There were heavy losses in aircraft and crews. Bombers missing totalled 8,325; bombers damaged 13,778. Out of a total aircrew force of 125,000, all volunteers, 55,573 aircrew were killed (with an average age of 22); 8,403 were wounded; 9,838 were prisoners of war.
The brave men who made up the aircrew came from the Commonwealth countries - there were Canadian Group and Australian and New Zealand Squadrons. American, South African and West Indian aircrew came to help us in our fight, together with those who had escaped from Poland, Czechoslovakia, France and other countries of occupied Europe. And all of these men were volunteers. Every single one of them felt that they had a role to play in defeating Nazism and wanted to play their part – no matter the cost.
In January 1943, the Combined Chiefs of Staff Conference at Casablanca stated "The primary aim of the British and American bomber forces in the United Kingdom would be the progressive destruction and dislocation of the German military, industrial and economic system, and the undermining of the morale of the German people to the point where their capacity for armed resistance is fatally weakened."
That Bomber Command was successful in fulfilling this role is highlighted by Albert Speer’s comments after the devastating week of attacks on Hamburg in August 1943, when the port and industrial centre almost ceased to exist. "Another six similar attacks, quickly repeated, would cripple Germany and might well compel the end of the war." Afterwards, Speer wrote: "The real importance of the Bomber Offensive was that it opened a second front long before the invasion of Europe. It was the greatest lost battle on the German side."
Legendary men performing legendary feats
Every single man in Bomber Command deserves our recognition. Facing daunting odds, day after day, they continued to take the war to the Nazis – even though they faced almost certain death. And every one of them had volunteered for this role.
However, even amongst this self-sacrificing group, there were those who went even further. The highest award for bravery in battle, the Victoria Cross, is not lightly given. Crafted from a Russian cannon captured at the siege of Sevastopol, the Victoria Cross is awarded for valour "in the face of the enemy" and it was awarded to no fewer than 23 airmen of Bomber Command during World War II, many posthumously. A typical example was pilot Bill Reid. When his Lancaster was badly damaged on the way to the target he decided to continue on, rather than take the normal course of turning back. He bombed the target and then somehow managed to nurse his aircraft home. Modesty was typical of most airmen and this is his story in his own words:
'…Suddenly, just after we had crossed the coast, there was a great bang from underneath. I thought it was flak because there had been no warnings, but the gunner had actually tried to fire. It was a Focke-Wulf 19O. I dropped 2,000 feet because the windscreen had been shattered and I had been hit in the shoulder. It felt just like a hammer, not a spear. I did not feel as if I was going to drop off so I thought there was no point in talking much about it...for another course because the compass was broken. He came back and indicated that the navigator had been knocked out. I had a feeling he would come to and take over again, but I looked round for the Pole Star and found it. That night we were heading for Cologne where we were dropping spoof flares to get their fighters away, and then turning and bombing Dusseldorf...
I held it steady and felt the bombs going off and headed back home. That was the difficult part, but I thought as long as I hit the English coast someone will find me a landing. The other thing on my mind at the time was to get back because we had wounded on board. There was no way we could bale out with all the wounded. On the way back we went up and down, up and down. Because we had no oxygen in the system, the engineer gave me the little bottles that we carried, like small fire extinguishers, that you can clip on to your mask. Eventually we ran out. I wanted to get down below oxygen height, which is 10,000 feet, but I didn't want to come down too soon in case there was a big flak area that would shoot us down.
When I saw the sea - it might have been the Zuider Zee - I came down to 7,000 feet. We were flying on and suddenly the four engines cut, and I thought, "Well, here it comes". The engineer remembered then that he had not switched the petrol tanks over. There are three petrol tanks on each wing and you normally try and keep them level in case you get hit, so that you don't lose all your petrol. He had left the main tanks the whole time as we had been so busy doing other things. He switched over to the other tanks and it started up.
...We had no hydraulics, so we ... came in and just touched down at the end of the runway, and as we did the undercarriage collapsed. It had been shot through. The plane was on her belly for about 50 yards and it was only then that I realised that the navigator was dead, because he slipped forward from his cabin. It was an American aerodrome I had landed at, Shipton in Norfolk. They scrambled on to the plane and opened up the dinghy escape and got us all out through the top. The wireless operator walked out even though he was wounded. They whipped us on to stretchers and into an ambulance and away. They had had a crash on the aerodrome two hours earlier that night with a Lancaster. The rear gunner was all but saved but then burned as it caught on fire. We were sent to the air force hospital about three days later. The next day the wireless operator died. He must have been shot through the chest.
The CO came down to see me in hospital. He asked me why I didn't turn back. I said that I thought it was safer to go on because we were still all flying in this big box of planes 10 miles wide and 10 miles deep, and it would have meant flying back through these and probably pranging one. It was not a case of going on regardless. It was the safest thing to do.'
