102 (Ceylon) Squadron

Tentate et perficite (Attempt and Achieve)

Squadron Leader Wally Lashbrook - DFC - DFM

Some Anxious Moments in World War Two -

Below you will see links to this books different chapters, it's too big to put into one page. Hope you enjoy reading and if you wish to pass comments onto Wally would you PLEASE email the webmaster, thanks. Go back to Wally's MAIN page.

 

  1. We All Make Mistakes
  2. Hot Pants
  3. Operation “Colossus"
  4. The Pile Up
  5. The Bail Out
  6. On The Run
  7. The Waiting Game
  8. On My Way Home
  9. Silence is Golden

Operation 'Colossus'

It was in January 1941 when eight of the more experienced Whitley crews - four from 51 Squadron and four from 78 Squadron - were sent to Ringway to practice Paratroop Dropping, prior to carrying out "Operation Colossus". I was privileged to be selected to Captain one of the Crews.

S/Ldr Willie Tait, an admirable leader, was the senior officer and was responsible for the crews. Dropping practice was carried out initially on Whitley 11s, drops being made from as low as 300 feet. Once proficient, we finished the course flying the particular Whitley V’s, which we were expected to use on the job. The morale among the paratroops was very high in spite of suffering the odd broken bone and occasionally finishing up in a tree. I knew of no one refusing to jump. We were however unfortunate in having one fatality, he fell into an iced-over lake and was drowned.

We completed our training on lst February 1941 and departed immediately for Mildenhall. On arrival over the airfield, we were greeted by light flack from some enthusiastic air gunners who mistakenly thought we were German Dorniers. The error was quickly rectified and we all landed safely.

We were soon assembled in the Briefing Room and informed we were on a special mission and would not be allowed out of camp etc. etc. We were then told that we were to fly direct to Malta and from there, drop the 36 paratroops on an aqueduct in Southern Italy. The aim was to destroy the aqueduct and thus deprive the area a high percentage of its fresh water. This would also be the first time any Allied forces had been dropped on enemy territory in uniform.

We were shown a landscape model of the dropping area, together with the approaches to the valley, which were studied at length by pilots and navigators. We were told that on our route out we were to keep to the west of Marseilles, Corsica and Sardinia, continuing south to the coast of Tunisia, a further 50 miles on that course before turning east to a D.R. position due south of Malta, then turn north to the Island. This would prevent the enemy from knowing of our arrival.

On the 7th February, we took off in our Whitleys. They had been fitted with an Auto Pilot and overload petrol tanks. We were carrying our six paratroops down the fuselage; each Para had a air mattress and a sleeping bag. With no windows to observe the outside world, sleep was the obvious way to pass the long night. Flying by Auto Pilot proved more of a hazard than doing the job yourself. After droning on and on for close on eight hours, we were approaching the Tunisian coast.

It was in the light of early dawn. There was a huge black hulk ahead of us - "cloud build up" - I said to myself. All was quiet inside the aircraft, perhaps slight snores from the second pilot. We were getting very close to "the Hulk" when he woke up and screamed at me "Look out - bloody mountains!". I clapped on full left rudder and hard aileron. I was still pulling back on the stick when the Whitley, now almost on its wingtip, sank into the "Hulk". My subsequent remarks to that pilot cannot be printed.

Back on course, we continued as per Flight Plan, landing on Malta after 10 hours 45 minutes airborne. Much to the surprise of the resident R.A.F., all eight Whitleys landed safely. We were given a quick debriefing and sent to take up residence with the submarine boys in the Lazzeretta Barracks at Siliema. After listening to those boys telling of their experiences at being depth charged while probing the approaches to Tripoli, we were thankful we were the only aircrew from Bomber Command.

For the following two days we were given refresher briefings on the target area. On the 10th February, we took off for the operation and flew in two loose formations of three. Willie "Tirpitz" Tait led the first with myself on his port rear. I think Don Peveler led the second. The two remaining Whitleys carried bombs only and acted in diversionary rolls. One of these A/C flown by P/O Wotherspoon, had engine trouble and force landed on the coast near the point where a submarine was scheduled to pick up the paras should they ever make the rendezvous. The crew was all taken prisoner and remained so for the rest of the war.

I remember the night; it was a very clear moonlit one. We were a crew of five and carried 6 paratroops, their leader being Lt. Dene Drummond. His book, "Arrows of Fortune" gives his story of the operation, his drop and subsequent actions. The aqueduct carried the water across a small valley just north of the little town of Calitri - south of Mt. Vulture. Our dropping height was 300 ft. As far as I remember, we flew to the coast at 9,000 ft. then descended gradually to about 500 ft. and down to 300 ft. just before the turn into the dropping area. By then we were roughly line astern.

All eye's to the left. I suddenly saw the valley entrance, just like the briefing model. We turned in reduced speed by dropping 30 degree flap, then switched the warning light to "Red" indicating to the paras that we were live minutes from the target. Just before we reached the bridge, we turned it to "Green". Without hesitation, they were away. First Nos. 1 and 3 paras, then the containers, followed by Nos. 4, 5 and 6. As we turned to climb out of the valley it was great to see the parachutes of the soldiers and containers floating down around the target. It is interesting to note that Lt. Dene Drummond, later Lt. General, who dropped as No. 5, says in his Memoirs that he landed about 100 yards from the aqueduct. It was 40 minutes before any of the other teams joined him.

The side of the valley loomed up to meet us. I opened up to full throttle and for one horrible moment I didn't think we were going to make it. I swear if the undercarriage had been down, the wheels would have struck the rim. After gaining height and raising the flaps, our next task was to find a suitable diversionary target on which to drop our two bombs. As I flew over Calitri, it looked so peaceful. It would have been sheer murder to bomb such a target. After circling the town, I followed a railway line to a junction and dropped our 250 pounders on the station. We then set course for Malta, landing back at our base at Luga, after being airborne for seven hours.

Operation Colossus made headlines at home and also ensured the enemy kept plenty of troops on hand to guard against any future such attacks. All the paras were taken prisoner. Dene Drummond later escaped to Switzerland and from there returned to the U.K. in time to take part in the Arnheim attack.

From the time we first landed at Luga, the aerodrome had been subjected to increased bombing by both the German and Italian aircraft. After the exercise, the attacks became fiercer than ever, especially at night. The weather reports were continually adverse for the trip back home so after five days we were told we would have to leave the island. If we couldn't go home, there was always Egypt. We packed our bags ready to move out the next day. On arrival at the airfield first thing in the morning, I was dismayed to find that a bomb had exploded just outside my dispersal point safety wall. In doing so, it blasted large rocks over the wall, one going through the port wing, leaving a large hole about 2 feet across, while the other struck the port rudder and tail fin, causing extensive damage. The rest of the crews took off for the U.K. leaving behind my crew, with a volunteer replacement tail gunner. Two of my messmates volunteered to let my wife know the reason for my absence. Betty and I were living out in the local village at the time. She heard the Whitleys returning and received one hell of a shock when she answered a knock at the door to find my two mates standing there with my kitbag between them. Her fears were quickly calmed when all was explained. The kitbag was full of "goodies" - oranges and lemons etc. A welcome change of fruit for one and all!

At the airfield the local riggers and sheet metal workers set about repairing the damage. The rudder was removed and sent to the workshops at Calafrana (the Flying Boat Base) for their attention. They did a good job but I finished up with one rectangular rudder and one oval one. The hole in the wing was, I was told, effectively made good by inserting bits from one of three old Gladiators - either Faith, Hope or Charity.

Repairs were completed by 21st February. The port rudder was "squared off" during the repair at Calafrana and had quite a different profile to its starboard partner. During the 30 minute air test, I found it functioned satisfactorily.

We stood by for a favourable weather forecast and left for U.K. in the late afternoon of 25th February. We climbed to usual height of around 9,000 feet and entered dense cloud before we were able to sight the coast of Sardinia. Unfortunately we were unable to break cloud from then on or to obtain loop bearings or see the stars. We had to rely entirely on the Met. Forecast winds and dead reckoning. Wireless silence was a MUST. Our destination was of course Mildenhall, so when our E.T.A. was up, I turned and flew 20 minutes on a westerly course, hoping at least that it would see us clear of the Continent. I then descended to 1,500 feet on the altimeter. We began to see searchlights weaving towards us then all swinging and pivoting in the same direction. I turned that way and within a few minutes found an aircraft beacon. Further indication by searchlights led us to a flare path. Green Aldis Lamps flashed at us. I decided to land. Once on the airfield the altimeter read 600 feet, quite a change in barometric pressure from Malta. The visibility was below 1,000 yards. After taxi-ing to near the watch tower, we were all anxious to discover if we really were in the U.K. The first thing I saw was a display board with the message beginning "Don't Do ...... ", what a relief.

On reporting to the tower I learnt we had landed at Wittering, which happened to be one of the few airfields that was not totally fog bound. We were told we were the only crew airborne thatnight.

Our time in the air was the same as for the outward journey, 10 hours and 45 minutes. We took off for Yorkshire after a couple of hours rest with the promise that the fog was clearing. Arriving over Dishforth we were unable to get in and diverted to Driffield. Later in the day the fog did lift and we were able to finish the journey. Touching down at home base on the afternoon of 26th February 1941.

That was completion of Operation Colossus for Whitley T4l65, my crew and myself.

 

Onto 'The Pile Up'

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