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Signed Lancaster Bomber Art Prints by Robert Taylor and Ivan Berryman. - Direct Art
DHM2088. Target Peenemunde by Robert Taylor. <p> On the evening of 17th August 1943, a total of 596 aircraft of RAF Bomber Command, spearheaded by the Pathfinder Force, set out on what called for, and what became, the most precise bombing raid of the war.  Success was vital.  The target was a secluded research establishment near the remote Baltic town of Peenemunde.  There, a group of top German scientists were developing the V-2 rocket projectile, with which Hitler hoped to devastate London and other major English cities.  When Allied Intelligence discovered the plan, the RAF was allotted the task of destroying the installation at Peenemunde, whatever the cost.  Brilliantly navigated in darkness right over the target, the masterbombers aircraft, seen in the forefront of this painting, made nine dangerous passes over the target, directing operations. During the next 55 minutes Hitlers secret weapon establishment was almost totally destroyed by the bomber crews that followed his directions.  The raid was completed with great gallantry but at heavy cost, and is today remembered as one of the greatest achievements of the RAF.  The painting shows Lancasters of No. 83 Squadron Pathfinder Force as they climb out over the east coast of England en-route for Peenemunde on the warm summer evening of 17th August, 1943. <p><b>Last 2 copies of this sold out edition.<b><p> Signed by : <br>Flight Lieutenant Bill Reid VC (deceased), <br>Wing Commander Roderick Learoyd VC (deceased),  <br>Group Captain Hamish Mahaddie DSO DFC (deceased), <br>Warrant Officer Norman Jackson VC (deceased) <br>and <br>Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener DSO DFC (deceased). <p> Signed limited edition of 1250 prints. <p> Paper size 33 inches x 25 inches (83cm x 64cm)
B0308C. Gunner's Moon by Ivan Berryman. <p> On the night of 7th-8th June 1944, a Lancaster of No.207 Sqn piloted by Wing Commander John Grey was part of a force of 112 bombers and 10 Mosquitoes sent to attack a tank storage park near Cerisy-la-Foret. With the D-Day landings just 48 hours old, it was considered too risky to leave the tank park intact, should the Germans try to launch a counter thrust from this position, just 20 miles from the French coast near Bayeux. Shortly after crossing the coast, Greys aircraft was attacked by a JU.88 and both the mid upper gunner Sutherland and tail gunner McIntosh opened fire on their pursuer and sent it down in flames. No sooner had they recovered from this fright when a second JU.88 closed in on them. Again, both gunners combined their fire and destroyed the enemy aircraft in mid air. Grey pressed on to the target where their bombs fell on the enemy tank depot, also destroying some fuel dumps and an important road junction. Returning to the French coast to begin their journey home, they were attacked yet again, this time by a Messerschmitt Bf 110. With machine-like precision, McIntosh and Sutherland opened fire together, claiming their third victim in a single night. For this extraordinary feat, both gunners were awarded the DFC. <b><p>Signed by Warrant Officer John Pearl<br>and<br>Sgt George B Thomson. <p>Pearl / Thomson signature edition of 200 prints from the signed limited edition of 1150 prints. <p> Image size 12 inches x 9 inches (31cm x 23cm)

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Signed Lancaster Bomber Art Prints by Robert Taylor and Ivan Berryman.

PCK1938. Signed Lancaster Bomber Art Prints by Robert Taylor and Ivan Berryman.

Aviation Print Pack.

Items in this pack :

Item #1 - Click to view individual item

DHM2088. Target Peenemunde by Robert Taylor.

On the evening of 17th August 1943, a total of 596 aircraft of RAF Bomber Command, spearheaded by the Pathfinder Force, set out on what called for, and what became, the most precise bombing raid of the war. Success was vital. The target was a secluded research establishment near the remote Baltic town of Peenemunde. There, a group of top German scientists were developing the V-2 rocket projectile, with which Hitler hoped to devastate London and other major English cities. When Allied Intelligence discovered the plan, the RAF was allotted the task of destroying the installation at Peenemunde, whatever the cost. Brilliantly navigated in darkness right over the target, the masterbombers aircraft, seen in the forefront of this painting, made nine dangerous passes over the target, directing operations. During the next 55 minutes Hitlers secret weapon establishment was almost totally destroyed by the bomber crews that followed his directions. The raid was completed with great gallantry but at heavy cost, and is today remembered as one of the greatest achievements of the RAF. The painting shows Lancasters of No. 83 Squadron Pathfinder Force as they climb out over the east coast of England en-route for Peenemunde on the warm summer evening of 17th August, 1943.

Last 2 copies of this sold out edition.

Signed by :
Flight Lieutenant Bill Reid VC (deceased),
Wing Commander Roderick Learoyd VC (deceased),
Group Captain Hamish Mahaddie DSO DFC (deceased),
Warrant Officer Norman Jackson VC (deceased)
and
Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener DSO DFC (deceased).

Signed limited edition of 1250 prints.

Paper size 33 inches x 25 inches (83cm x 64cm)


Item #2 - Click to view individual item

B0308C. Gunner's Moon by Ivan Berryman.

On the night of 7th-8th June 1944, a Lancaster of No.207 Sqn piloted by Wing Commander John Grey was part of a force of 112 bombers and 10 Mosquitoes sent to attack a tank storage park near Cerisy-la-Foret. With the D-Day landings just 48 hours old, it was considered too risky to leave the tank park intact, should the Germans try to launch a counter thrust from this position, just 20 miles from the French coast near Bayeux. Shortly after crossing the coast, Greys aircraft was attacked by a JU.88 and both the mid upper gunner Sutherland and tail gunner McIntosh opened fire on their pursuer and sent it down in flames. No sooner had they recovered from this fright when a second JU.88 closed in on them. Again, both gunners combined their fire and destroyed the enemy aircraft in mid air. Grey pressed on to the target where their bombs fell on the enemy tank depot, also destroying some fuel dumps and an important road junction. Returning to the French coast to begin their journey home, they were attacked yet again, this time by a Messerschmitt Bf 110. With machine-like precision, McIntosh and Sutherland opened fire together, claiming their third victim in a single night. For this extraordinary feat, both gunners were awarded the DFC.

Signed by Warrant Officer John Pearl
and
Sgt George B Thomson.

Pearl / Thomson signature edition of 200 prints from the signed limited edition of 1150 prints.

Image size 12 inches x 9 inches (31cm x 23cm)


Website Price: £ 300.00  

To purchase these prints individually at their normal retail price would cost £450.00 . By buying them together in this special pack, you save £150




All prices are displayed in British Pounds Sterling

 

Signatures on this item
*The value given for each signature has been calculated by us based on the historical significance and rarity of the signature. Values of many pilot signatures have risen in recent years and will likely continue to rise as they become more and more rare.
NameInfo


The signature of Flight Lieutenant Bill Reid VC (deceased)

Flight Lieutenant Bill Reid VC (deceased)
*Signature Value : £70 (matted)

Volunteering for RAF aircrew in 1940, Bill Reid learned to fly in California, training on the Stearman, Vultee and Harvard. After gaining his pilots wings back in England he flew Wellingtons before moving on to Lancasters in 1943. On the night of Nov 3rd 1943, his Lancaster suffered two severe attacks from Luftwaffe night fighters, badly wounding Reid, killing his navigator and radio operator, and severely damaging the aircraft. Bill flew on 200 miles to accurately bomb the target and get his aircraft home. For this act of outstanding courage and determination he was awarded the Victoria Cross. Died 28th November 2001.



Citation for the Victoria Cross, gazetted 14th December 1943.

On the night of November 3rd, 1943, Flignt Lieutenant Reid was pilot and captain of a Lancaster aircraft detailed to attack Dusseldorf. Shortly after crossing the Dutch coast, the pilots windscreen was shattered by fire from a Messerschmitt. Owing to a failure in the heating circuit, the rear gunners hands were too cold for him to open fire immediately or to operate his microphone and so give warning of danger; but after a brief delay he managed to return the Messerschmitts fire and it was driven off. During the fight with the Messerschmitt, Flight Lieutenant Reid was wounded in the head, shoulders and hands. The elevator trimming tabs of the aircraft were damaged and it became difficult to control. The rear turret, too, was badly damaged and the communications system and compasses were put out of action. Flight Lieutenant Reid ascertained that his crew were unscathed and, saying nothing about his own injuries, he continued his mission. Soon afterwards, the Lancaster was attacked by a Focke Wulf 190. This time, the enemys fire raked the bomber from stem to stern. The rear gunner replied with his only serviceable gun but the state of his turret made accurate aiming impossible. The navigator was killed and the wireless operator fatally injured. The mid-upper turret was hit and the oxygen system put out of action. Flight Lieutenant Reid was again wounded and the flight engineer, though hit in the forearm, supplied him with oxygen from a portable supply. Flight Lieutenant Reid refused to be turned from his objective and Dusseldorf was reached some 50 minutes later. He had memorised his course to the target and had continued in such a normal manner that the bomb-aimer, who was cut off by the failure of the communications system, knew nothing of his captains injuries or of the casualties to his comrades. Photographs show that, when the bombs were released, the aircraft was right over the centre of the target. Steering by the pole star and the moon, Flight Lieutenant Reid then set course for home. He was growing weak from loss of blood. The emergency oxygen supply had given out. With the windscreen shattered, the cold was intense. He lapsed into semiconsciousness. The flight engineer, with some help from the bomb-aimer, kept the Lancaster in the air despite heavy anti-aircraft fire over the Dutch coast. The North Sea crossing was accomplished. An airfield was sighted. The captain revived, resumed control and made ready to land. Ground mist partially obscured the runway lights. The captain was also much bothered by blood from his head wound getting into his eyes. But he made a safe landing although one leg of the damaged undercarriage collapsed when the load came on. Wounded in two attacks, without oxygen, suffering severely from cold, his navigator dead, his wireless operator fatally wounded, his aircraft crippled and defenceless, Flight Lieutenant Reid showed superb courage and leadership in penetrating a further 200 miles into enemy territory to attack one of the most strongly defended targets in Germany, every additional mile increasing the hazards of the long and perilous journey home. His tenacity and devotion to duty were beyond praise.

London Gazette, 1943.



The signature of Group Captain Hamish Mahaddie DSO DFC (deceased)

Group Captain Hamish Mahaddie DSO DFC (deceased)
*Signature Value : £60 (matted)

Group Captain Thomas Gilbert 'Hamish' Mahaddie. DSO, DFC, AFC.. CzMC. Nos 7, 55, and 77 Squadrons. Born In Keith, Edinburgh, on 19 March 1911. He joined the RAF as a part of the 17th Entry at Halton in 1928 and trained as a metal rigger, after which he was posted to Cranwell on ground servicing duties. In 1933 he boarded a troopship bound for the Middle East where he joined No 4 FTS at Abu Suler for pilot training. He gained his wings in 1935 and his first air crew posting was to No 55 Squadron at Hinaldi flying Westland Wapitis. On his return to England in 1937 he joined No 77 Squadron flying Whitleys from Driffield. During World War II he completed a tour of operations with No 77 Squadron before moving to Klnloss to instruct with No 14 OTU. He completed another tour, this time with No 7 Squadron at Oakington on Stirlings, before joining HQ Staff of No 8 (Pathfinder) Group. Group Captain Mahaddie finished the war as Station Commander at RAF Warboys, home of PFF Navigation Training Unit. In June 1945 he was appointed to command No 111 Wing in Germany followed by a spell at the Staff College, Haifa, In 1947. His postwar duties also included two tours of duty at the Air Ministry, as OC Flying Wing at Binbrook, and also as Station Commander at Sylt and Butzwellerhof in Germany. He finally retired from the RAF in 1958 and has since been involved with the film Industry as an aviation consultant specialising in electronics for all three services. Hamish Mahaddie died 16th January 1997.


The signature of Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener DSO DFC (deceased)

Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener DSO DFC (deceased)
*Signature Value : £50 (matted)

One of the top RAF navigators of the war who went on more than 100 sorties in Bomber Command. Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener was born in Birmingham in November 1915 and joined the Royal Air Force in early 1939. Norman Scrivener trained at Staverton Aerodrome, in Gloucestershire, where he discovered he suffered from air sickness. He joined 97 (New Zealand ) Squadron, became a pilot officer and was one of the first navigators to use the developing radar systems and later flew with Wing Commander Guy Gibson (before Gibson moved to the Dambusters.) with 106 Squadron and in 1943 joined the Pathfinders of 83 Squadron as navigator to the Squadron Commander John Searby and took part in the raid on the German radar facilities in Peenemunde where the German V2 and V1 rockets were produced and tested. Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Distinguished Flying Order. Sadly Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener died in Worcester aged 91 in May 2007.


The signature of Warrant Officer Norman Jackson VC (deceased)

Warrant Officer Norman Jackson VC (deceased)
*Signature Value : £70 (matted)

Norman Jackson joined 106 Squadron as a flight engineer, and his 30th operational raid earned him the Victoria Cross. While climbing out of the target area over Schweinfurt, his Lancaster was hit by an enemy night-fighter and the inner starboard engine set on fire. Although injured by shrapnel he jettisoned the pilots escape hatch and climbed out on to the wing clutching a fire extinguisher, his parachute spilling out as he went. He succeeded in putting out the fire just as the night-fighter made a second attack, this time forcing the crew to bale out. Norman was swept away with his parachute starting to burn but somehow survived the fall to spend 10 months as a POW in a German hospital. Sadly, Norman Jackson died on 26th March 1994.

The story as it appeared in the London Gazette :

In recognition of most conspicuous bravery. This airman was the flight engineer in a Lancaster bomber detailed to attack Schweinfurt on the night of 26th April 1944. Bombs were dropped successfully and the aircraft was climbing out of the target area. Suddenly it was attacked by a fighter at about 20,000 feet. The captain took evading action at once but the enemy secured many hits. A fire started near a petrol tank on the upper surface of the starboard wing, between the fuselage and the inner engine. Sergeant Jackson was thrown to the floor during the engagement. Wounds which he received from shell splinters in the right leg and shoulder were probably sustained at that time. Recovering himself, he remarked that he could deal with the fire on the wing and obtained his captains permission to try to put out the flames.

Pushing a hand fire-extinguisher into the top of his life-saving jacket and slipping on his parachute pack, Sergeant Jackson jettisoned the escape hatch above the pilots head. He then started to climb out of the cockpit and back along the top of the fuselage to the starboard wing. Before he could leave the fuselage his parachute pack opened and the whole canopy and rigging lines spilled into the cockpit. Undeterred, Sergeant Jackson continued. The pilot, bomb aimer and navigator gathered the parachute together and held on to the rigging lines, paying them out as the airman crawled aft. Eventually he slipped and, falling from the fuselage to the starboard wing, grasped an air intake on the leading edge of the wing. He succeeded in clinging on but lost the extinguisher, which was blown away.

By this time, the fire had spread rapidly and Sergeant Jackson was involved. His face, hands and clothing were severly burnt. Unable to retain his hold, he was swept through the flames and over the trailing edge of the wing, dragging his parachute behind. When last seen it was only partly inflated and was burning in a number of places.

Realising that the fire could not be controlled, the captain gave the order to abandon aircraft. Four of the remaining members of the crew landed safely. The captain and rear gunner have not been accounted for. Sergeant Jackson was unable to control his descent and landed heavily. He sustained a broken ankle, his right eye was closed through burns and his hands were useless. These injuries, together with the wounds received earlier, reduced him to a pitiable state. At daybreak he crawled to the nearest village, where he was taken prisoner. He bore the intense pain and discomfort of the journey to Dulag Luft with magnificent fortitude. After 10 months in hospital he made a good recovery, though his hands required further treatment and are only of limited use.

This airmans attempt to extinguish the fire and save the aircraft and crew from falling into enemy hands was an act of outstanding gallantry. To venture outside, when travelling at 200 miles an hour, at a great height and in intense cold, was an almost incredible feat. Had he succeeded in subduing the flames, there was little or no prospect of his regaining the cockpit. The spilling of his parachute and the risk of grave damage to its canopy reduced his chances of survival to a minimum. By his ready willingness to face these dangers he set an example of self-sacrifice which will ever be remembered.



The signature of Wing Commander Roderick Learoyd VC (deceased)

Wing Commander Roderick Learoyd VC (deceased)
*Signature Value : £70 (matted)

On the day that war was declared Rod Learoyd was on patrol flying Hampdens with 49 Sqn. Continually involved with low level bombing, on the night of 12th August 1940, he and four other aircraft attempted to breach the heavily defended Dortmund - Ems canal. Of the four other aircraft on the mission, two were destroyed and the other two were badly hit. Learoyd took his plane into the heavily defended target at only 150 feet, in full view of the searchlights, and with flak barrage all around. He managed to get his very badly damaged aircraft back to England, where he circled until daybreak when he finally landed the aircraft without inflicting more damage to it, or injuring any of his crew. For his supreme courage that night he was awarded the Victoria Cross. He later joined 44 Sqn with the first Lancasters, and then commanded 83 Sqn. He died 24th January 1996.



Citation for the Victoria Cross, gazetted 20th August 1940.

This officer, as first pilot of a Hampden aircraft, has repeatedly shown the highest conception of his duty and complete indifference to personal danger in making attacks at the lowest altitudes regardless of opposition. On the night of I2th August, 1940, he was detailed to attack a special objective on the Dortmund-Ems Canal. He had attacked this objective on a previous occasion and was well aware of the risks entailed. To achieve success it was necessary to approach from a direction well known to the enemy, through a lane of especially disposed anti-aircraft defences, and in the face of the most intense point blank fire from guns of all calibres. The reception of the preceding aircraft might well have deterred the stoutest heart, all being hit and two lost. Flight Lieutenant Learoyd nevertheless made his attack at 150 feet, his aircraft being repeatedly hit and large pieces of the main planes torn away. He was almost blinded by the glare of many searchlights at close range but pressed home this attack with the greatest resolution and skill. He subsequently brought his wrecked aircraft home and, as the landing flaps were inoperative and the undercarriage indicators out of action, waited for dawn in the vicinity of his aerodrome before landing, which he accomplished without causing injury to his crew or further damage to the aircraft. The high courage, skill and determination, which this officer has invariably displayed on many occasions in the face of the enemy, sets an example which is unsurpassed.
London Gazette, 1940.

Signatures on item 2
*The value given for each signature has been calculated by us based on the historical significance and rarity of the signature. Values of many pilot signatures have risen in recent years and will likely continue to rise as they become more and more rare.
NameInfo


The signature of Sgt George B Thomson

Sgt George B Thomson
*Signature Value : £30 (matted)

George Thomson was trained on Stirlings and Wellingtons before converting to Lancasters and joining No.15 Sqn. He flew most of his missions on Lancaster LS-P, including missions to Stettin and Paris rail yards. While on the Paris mission, LS-M developed engine problems and was left behind by the rest of the squadron. Luckily, two P-38 Lightnings high above spotted the the struggling Lancaster and came down to escort the bomber back to base at Mildenhall. On the night of 12th September 1944, George was Navigator on Lancaster NF958 (LS-M) of No.15 Sqn, his usual aircraft LS-P grounded with engine trouble. This was to be his first and last mission on this aircraft as it was lost in the skies above Mannheim when it was attacked by the Messerschmitt Bf.110G-2 of Ofw Ludwig Schmidt of II/NGJ 6. Five of the seven crew of the aircraft, including George, managed to escape from the burning aircraft but two did not manage to escape the inferno. The aircraft came down in the vicinity of the railway station in Wieblingen, south of Mannheim. Having escaped the aircraft, he did not however manage to evade the enemy, and he was taken into captivity until the end of the war.First Op : I suppose all aircrew looked forward to their first operational flight with some trepidation, but in my own case I didn't have time to think about it, as this tale will tell. Having completed my navigation training I moved on to No. 11 O.T.U at Westcott, in December 1943, flying in Wellingtons and where I crewed up; from there it was on to 1657 Conversion Unit at Stradishall, where we flew Stirlings, then to NO.3 L.F.S. at Feltwell where we converted to Lancasters. Three rounds of circuits and bumps and one 'Bullseye' and then posted to Mildenhall in June 1944 to join XV Squadron. Arriving at Mildenhall, on my first day I reported to the Navigation Office. The Navigation Leader, F/Lt. Jack Fabian, a New Zealander, greeted me warmly enough, but was somewhat perplexed by the fact that he had another Scottish Navigator to deal with. As he said, there were already Scots known as 'Jock', 'Haggis', and 'Bagpipes', so henceforth he would call me 'Tommy'. As I was leaving his Office, he threw a fastball at me - 'Would I like to do an Op that night with a crew whose navigator had gone sick?' I was somewhat nonplussed and replied to the effect that I would have preferred to do my first Op with my own crew. To my surprise he simply said - 'That's O.K. Tommy, there will be plenty opportunities later on. 'Four days later we did a loaded climb and for some reason or another thought that we would perhaps do one or two more exercises before seeing our names on the Battle Order. Next day there seemed to be nothing on so we went our individual ways, with the Flight Engineer and myself deciding that we would go to the Camp Cinema that night. We were settled in our seats, and the big movie had just started - 'The Picture of Dorian Grey' - when a message flashed up on the screen for Sgts Howarth and Thomson to report to the Briefing Room immediately. We hurriedly left the Cinema and made our way to the Briefing Room, wondering what this was all about, when we met the aircrews coming out and getting aboard transport to be taken to their aircraft. Jack Fabian was at the door, and he handed me a Navigations Bag with the comment - You'll fmd everything in there; just follow the plane in front until you get sorted out.' We got transported out to the aircraft where the other members of the crew were already aboard, and I was still unpacking my bag as we trundled to the runway, taking off at 22.57. By the time we were in the air I had unfolded the chart and found where the target was - a 'P' Plane site at L Hey - the route there and back had already been plotted so, in effect, I was being spoon fed for my first Op.

We encountered slight flak on route and were attacked by a Ju88 over the target, forcing the Bomb Aimer to ask the Pilot to go round again. On the second run in to the target another aircraft crossed our path, again forcing a re-run as before, but eventually having unloaded our bombs we headed back home, landing at base two and a half hours after take-off. To my surprise neither I nor the Flight Engineer were challenged as to why we had been at the Cinema, nor did we get a satisfactory explanation from the other crew members as to why they had not made contact with us after seeing the Battle Order for that night.

Four nights later we were on our second Op to another 'P' Plane site, encountering three attacks by Me110s, one of which was damaged by our Rear Gunner. From then on, we never met another fighter until our twentieth Op on 12th September 1944, when we were attacked twice as we turned on to the last leg to the target, Frankfurt. The second attack caused severe damage to the aircraft and set part of the incendiary load alight, forcing us to abandon the plane, and when we bailed out the Flight Engineer and I landed in the same field, but we didnt get to the Cinema that night!

Caught Napping

It was our twentieth operation, the target was Frankfurt and the date was 12th September 1944. I was flying as Navigator in Lancaster LS-M (NF 958), the other members of the crew being FIO N.R. Overend (pilot) a New Zealander; J.D. Jones (Bomb Aimer); R.E. Kendall (Wireless Operator); RJ. Howarth (Flight Engineer); H. Beverton (Mid-upper Gunner) and 1. Spagatner (Rear Gunner). We flew low level across France, only starting our climb when we crossed the German border. At 22.45 as we turned on to the last leg into the target there was a cry of 'Port Go' from the Rear gunner; immediately we plunged into that sickening corkscrew known to all Bomber aircrew, and as we levelled out there was an almighty bang from underneath the Wireless Operators position. Flames rapidly broke through into the fuselage and we realised that we had been hit in the bomb bay, and the incendiary load was alight. The pilot struggled with the controls for a moment or two but, as the flames began to spread across the port wing, he gave the order to bail-out. B.J., the Flight Engineer, went first through the nose hatch, followed by myself, then the Bomb Aimer, while the two Gunners exited through the rear door. I estimate that we baled out at around 12,000 feet, and in the darkness of the night it seemed a long way down. Shortly after we had escaped the aircraft blew up, throwing out the Wireless Operator, who remembers nothing of that incident, and killing the Pilot.

Hitting the ground, I realised that there was another parachutist on the corner of the field in which I had landed, and making my way to him found it to be B.J. our Flight Engineer. Neither of us were injured in any way, so burying our chutes we decided to make tracks and get as far away as we could from the scene of our landing.

That night we simply headed in a southwest direction, keeping to fields and avoiding any roads. At one point we came to a large enclosed area, surrounded by high fencing, which we had to go around. Eventually, as dawn approached we found ourselves on the bank of a fast flowing river - there was a bridge downstream, with the occasional vehicle crossing it. The heavily wooded area on the other bank looked most inviting but prudence dictated that we should stay where we were, as the chances of being spotted as we crossed the bridge were too high for our liking.

As daylight came we could see that we were on the edge of a farm, the buildings of which could be seen some two hundred yards from were we were lying in long grass - fortunately the steep bank on which we lay hid us from the farm but we kept a watchful eye in case anyone came in our direction.

The day passed slowly. We had one Escape Kit between the two of us - B.J. had left his in the aircraft - so we had a couple of Horlicks tablets and risked sharing a cigarette, being careful to blow the smoke into the long grass. It proved to be a very long day, as we lay there waiting for darkness to fall.

As night came so too did the rain. And how it rained! We made our way to the bridge and got across it without any difficulty, then dived into the woods we had seen. And still it rained; so much so that we were obliged to seek shelter, and there was precious little about. An upturned tin bath, which we came across, when held over our heads provided only token cover, and the noise of the rain falling on it forced us to discard our primitive shelter. A thicker clump of trees provided some relief from the rain and we remained there for much of our second night, only resuming our escape attempt when it got a bit lighter. We were following a main road, while staying within cover of the trees, and there seemed to be only military vehicles passing from time to time. As it got lighter we decided to call a halt and get some rest - in any event, we had had little sleep so far. A clump of low scrub provided enough shelter and so we lay down and went to sleep.

It would be difficult to say that we slept well. Periodically, we would waken up and check that there was no one approaching our hideout. The occasional noise of traffic could be heard on the road some distance away - it seemed possible that this was a main route to the south and we took the decision to follow it. We were encouraged to believe that we might yet get out of Germany, and, with luck, get back to Britain.

Up to this point the lack of food had not been of great concern. We still had some Horlicks tablets and a chewy bar in the Escape Kit. We also had a fishing line and a hook, but could not imagine us sitting by a stream while we dangled the line in the expectation that we might catch a fish. Some matches, a water bottle and water purification tablets completed our equipment. I had in my possession a pencil, which when broken open revealed a miniature compass, while B.J. being a pipe-smoker had a tobacco pouch, which, he proclaimed had a map inside. Ripping open the pouch, we were somewhat disappointed to find a map of southern France, and we had a long way to go before it would be of any practical use to us.

Late that afternoon we decided that it would be safe enough to begin walking, provided we stayed within cover of the woods, so off we set. It was slow progress as we constantly had to be on the alert, and every now and then we would stop and listen for any unwelcome sounds. Gradually, as it got darker within the woods, we edged our way nearer to the road and at times walked along it in an endeavour to cover a greater distance. It was a single track road, and not, as we had imagined, a major thoroughfare; it also ran fairly straight so that we could hear, and even see, any approaching vehicle, whereupon we would dive into cover and remain hidden for a suitable period. We continued walking throughout the night, albeit at a fairly slow pace, and as daylight came we found that we were nearing some open country, with a few buildings set well back from the road. Then we had some good fortune by coming across apple trees growing by the roadside. We hastily filled our pockets and made our way across a field towards an old barn where we though we might find cover for that day. We approached the barn with caution, but it did seem to be disused and sure enough when we got inside we had the firm impression that nobody had been in it for some considerable time. A ladder led up to a hayloft and we settled down there, taking turns to sleep and keep watch. During one of my watch periods I came across a bundle of old newspapers and magazines - I could not read them but I thumbed through the pages looking at the odd photographs. Amazingly, I came across a map, which was part of a an advert for a petrol company, and it covered the very area we were in. It was somewhat rumpled, and torn in places, but I stuffed it into my pocket, feeling sure that it would prove useful in the days that lay ahead.

Feeling refreshed, we ate some of the apples and as dusk settled over the countryside we continued on our way. So far as I could judge we had covered some 50 to 60 miles, and were south of Mannheim and heading in the direction of Karlsruhe. We were still making slow progress, keeping to fields, passing through wooded areas, and trying at all times to remain invisible. This night we again experienced rain, and as it got heavier we decided that there was no alternative but to seek shelter yet again. This proved to more difficult than we had expected, but eventually we came to a bridge over an autobahn and took shelter below it at a point as high up from the autobahn as we could find. It proved to be just right for our purpose for, while we could watch the odd vehicle that passed along the road they were unable to detect our presence in the darkness. Thus passed a few miserable hours.

As dawn approached we thought it best to get away from this location, so returned to the fields and continued our walk. We were getting a bit blase by this time, and took the decision to continue walking through the day. As events were to prove this was a day we would not forget in a hurry. At one point we could see workers in a distant field, but if they saw us they took no notice. Boldness overcame us and we ventured on to a quiet country road in an endeavour to cover a greater distance. Some miles on our way we spotted a civilian type truck parked by the roadside. There did not appear to be anyone with it so we approached it carefully, possibly thinking that we might be able to use the vehicle to get us further on our way. There was no obvious way that we could have got it started, which led us to abandon the idea of driving off in style, Before leaving the truck, however, we had noticed a packet lying beside the driver's seat; on closer examination we found it to contain two chunks of bread and some sausage. We could not pass up the opportunity to vary our diet a little, and to this day I wonder what the driver thought about his missing lunch, if that is what it was.

The decision to keep to the road was almost our downfall, for turning a bend in the road a few miles on, we saw ahead a group of houses on either side of the road, with one or two women and children actually within sight of us - indeed, it seemed that they had observed our approach. What to do? Walk on, we agreed! So, putting on a bold front we walked straight ahead at a steady but not fast pace - we nodded to the women as we passed and kept going. My spine was tingling but we dared not look back. Another bend in the road and we were out of view of the women.

Heaving sighs of relief we stepped out a bit faster to get as far away as we could from the hamlet we had passed through. It is perhaps worth mentioning that we had taken the decision not to remove any badges from our uniforms, which meant that we were still wearing our flying badges and our stripes, and yet we had not been recognised.

Later in the day we came across a workmans hut by the roadside and as it was deserted we took the decision to rest for a while inside. It stood back a little from the road, and behind it was a thinly spaced wood. A knothole in the wall facing the road gave us the advantage of viewing anyone approaching. Then the unexpected happened. An army vehicle drew up alongside. As we watched, the driver and a woman got down from the cab. Hell! Were they coming to the hut? Fortunately, they passed behind and went into the wood, re-emerging some ten minutes later. The purpose of their visit was all too obvious, and we watched them climb back into the truck and drive off. If they were satisfied, so too were we!

That was enough excitement for one day, and certainly more than we had experienced in our travels thus far. To avoid another encounter with any of the local population, we kept to the fields and woods for the remainder of that day, and chose to spend the night as 'babes in the wood' once again.

Starting out the next day it was quite apparent that we were suffering from a lack of nourishment. We both felt a bit light headed from time to time and as the day wore on we realised that we needed to find another lorry with a supply of bread and sausage. No such luck, however! Taking it easy, and resting for longer periods in between walking meant that it was going to take longer to get out of Germany than we had imagined. Never mind, just keep going and hope for the best. Later in the day we came across a vast potato field and filled our pockets in preparation for a bean feast that night. We still had a few apples we had gathered earlier in the day and this gave us the prospect of a better repast. The hours of darkness came at last - we were still walking and had returned to a quiet country road on which we saw neither persons nor vehicles. When we came across another hut, again set back a little from the road, we claimed it as our own for the night. There was an added bonus in that this hut contained a stove; ideal for roasting our potatoes, so B.J. foraged for some wood while I went off to find a stream we could hear nearby in order to fill the water bottle. In my wearied state I misjudged the bank and finished ankle deep in the stream. Returning to the hut I took off my shoes and hung my socks above the stove, now alight, and waited for the potatoes to roast. They were excellent, and the apple desert finished off our evening meal. Before settling down to sleep I went out of the hut to relieve myself and to my horror saw flames spouting two or three feet high out of the chimney. A dead giveaway to any passing traffic, so out went the fire and we turned in for our rest.

The next morning was sunny and warm. We resumed our trek and by this time I was estimating that we had covered a fair distance although by no means sure where we were having run off the map I had earlier acquired. Still, we were in reasonably good heart and feeling a bit stronger after our meal the night before. Nevertheless we were walking at a slower pace and we took time to rest more often. The result was that we had probably covered little more than a dozen miles during that day. As evening came we found another road heading in what we though would be the right direction - it led us into the outskirts of a town of some size, so far as we could judge in the dark, and we were wondering what to do next when we heard approaching footsteps. Diving into a garden of a house, we hid behind shrubs until the figure passed, then re-emerged to continue on our way, still wondering what action to take.

A little further on we spied a railway yard and decided to investigate. Would there be any trains that might take us out of Germany? We never did get the answer to that question as we were suddenly confronted by a uniformed person who took a great interest in us. He spoke to us, obviously asking questions, but as we could not understand a word we just stood our ground and shrugged our shoulders. Bemused perhaps, our questioner eventually lost interest and wandered off. We wasted no time in getting out of that yard and hightailing it down the road with a view to getting as far as we could out of that town, a town we were later to learn was called Rastatt.

We walked at a fair pace and when we judged that we were a good few miles out of the town we looked for some place where we could lie up for the rest of the night. There were woods on both sides of the road, but which to choose? We chose to go right and when we were some little distance away from the road we found a hollow under some low scrub, which we settled in for our resting place, and soon we were asleep. I must have slept soundly until I was rudely shaken awake by B.J. who whispered in my ear, 'Look whose coming!' I did look and my heart sank immediately, for there were four German soldiers bearing down on us with rifles and fixed bayonets. There was no chance of escape, and as I looked around I spied an elderly man standing well back watching proceedings - he had in his arm a bundle of wood and it was all too obvious that he had come across us as he searched for wood, and reported us to the military.

As events were to prove he had not had far to go to turn us in, for we had selected as our resting place a spot some two hundred yards from a German Army camp, which we had not seen through the trees while it was dark. We had truly been caught napping!

We were taken back to this camp two or three officers appeared and scrutinised us at close quarters before removing our shoes, presumably to avoid us making a run for it. We stood there not knowing what would happen next. The most senior officer, or so he appeared, stood looking at us in some amusement. Eventually a truck was brought along, we were invited to get aboard - we had no choice - and we were driven back into the town we had walked through the previous evening. What appeared to be the local county jail was our destination, where we were searched then placed in separate cells. I was surprised that the search they made of us had been carried out in a careless manner, for they had missed my escape kit box, which was by now near empty, and a knife I had in my possession. After about an hour in the cell, the door was opened and an officer and senior N.C.O. entered. The officer stood and looked at me while the N.C.O. snapped 'English?' at me. I do not know what prompted me to say 'No', but that was my reply, whereupon the N.CO. shouted 'American?' Again I answered 'No'. The N.C.O. looked puzzled, but the officer smiled and said in almost faultless English, 'Well if you are not English and not American, what are you?' 'Scottish,' I replied. At this the officer turned and said a few words to the N.C.O. who then left the cell and I was left alone with the officer. Curiously, he did not try to interrogate me. Instead, he explained that he had gone to Oxford University pre-war, which no doubt explained his near perfect English. He did say, however, that an Austrian Regiment had picked us up, and that for me the war was over. A few minutes later the N.C.O. returned bearing a tray with a plate of meat and potatoes on it, together with a mug of coffee, then they left me to enjoy my first real meal in eight days. The following day I met up with B.J. when we were moved to another prison some miles away. I was a little amused to learn that when the German officer and N.C.O. had confronted B.J. in his cell, and asked if he was English he had acknowledged the fact, only to be left alone without anything to eat - it was some hours later before he received some bread, cold meat and coffee. Obviously, being Scottish paid off!

Eventually we were taken to Frankfurt and found ourselves in Dulag Luft for interrogation. By this time the attack on Arnhem had taken place and the number of airborne prisoners was such that we were soon moved out to our Prison Camp, Stalag Luft VII in Upper Silesia, which we reached after a train journey occupying several days. At this time we met up with our Bomb Aimer and Wireless Operator, and were more than pleased on arrival at the Camp to find that Spagatner, our Rear Gunner had got there before us. As we were later to have confirmed, the Pilot had indeed been killed in the aircraft, and our Mid-upper Gunner had also been killed, but how and when we never did learn.


George Thomson signing prints of Incident Over Mannheim.

Warrant Officer John Pearl
*Signature Value : £20 (matted)

As a Mid-Upper Gunner he served with 207 Sqn on Lancasters. On his 8th Operation in April 1945 his aircraft was shot down and he then spent three days evading capture before finding his way into US occupied territory.

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