Order Enquiries (UK) : 01436 820269

You currently have no items in your basket



Last Christmas Post Dates (more)>
UK : 20 Dec, US/CAN/EUR : 18 Dec


Buy with confidence and security!
Publishing historical art since 1985

Don't Miss Any Special Deals - Sign Up To Our Newsletter!
Aircraft
Search
Signature
Search
Squadron
Search
Ship
Search
ORIGINAL
PAINTINGS
SEE THIS MONTH'S SPECIAL OFFERS
Product Search         
CLICK HERE FOR A FULL LIST OF ALL IVAN BERRYMAN PRINTS BY TITLE
Bomber Command Stirling Aircraft Prints by Ivan Berryman and Philip West. - IvanBerryman.com

DHM2205.  Teamwork by Philip West. <p>As night falls, Short Stirlings of XV Squadron based at Mildenhall, Cambridgeshire, await their crews for yet another nocturnal mission. One of the almost forgotten Bomber Command aircraft that made a very significant contribution to the war effort. <b><p> Signed by Wg. Cdr. F H P Austin OBE RAF, <br>F/Lt Geoffrey Ware, DFC AE FCA <br>and <br>A R Charlesworth. <p>Signed limited edition of 300 prints. <p> Image size 24 inches x 8 inches (61cm x 20cm)
B0236. Preparing To Go - Crew of a Short Stirling by Ivan Berryman. <p> The crew of MkIII Short Stirling WP-M of No.90 Squadron RAF prepare for a flight test on the morning of 3rd July 1943. <br><br>Aircraft BK718, with designation WP-M, of No.90 Squadron RAF was lost over Germany in the early hours of 4th July 1943.   Six of the seven crew were lost in the crash, the rear gunner surviving to be taken prisoner.  Stirling WP-O was also lost on the same mission, with the loss of all seven crew.<br><br>The crew of Stirling WP-M, BK718: Sgt Hugh Murray, Flight Engineer - Sgt Robert Freeland, Air Bomber - P/O Geoffrey Smith, Air Gunner - Sgt Oliver Beard, Wireless Operator - P/O Andrew Gilmour, Navigator - F/Lt Robert Platt, Pilot - Sgt I. H. Norris, Air Gunner. <b><p>Signed by Sgt George B Thomson. <p>Signed limited edition of 35 prints. <p> Image size 12 inches x 9 inches (31cm x 22cm)

Please note that our logo (below) only appears on the images on our website and is not on the actual art prints.


When you are ready to add this item to your basket, click the button below.

 

 

  Website Price: £ 125.00  

Quantity:
 

 

Bomber Command Stirling Aircraft Prints by Ivan Berryman and Philip West.

PCK1594. Bomber Command Stirling Aircraft Prints by Ivan Berryman and Philip West.

Aviation Print Pack.

Items in this pack :

Item #1 - Click to view individual item

DHM2205. Teamwork by Philip West.

As night falls, Short Stirlings of XV Squadron based at Mildenhall, Cambridgeshire, await their crews for yet another nocturnal mission. One of the almost forgotten Bomber Command aircraft that made a very significant contribution to the war effort.

Signed by Wg. Cdr. F H P Austin OBE RAF,
F/Lt Geoffrey Ware, DFC AE FCA
and
A R Charlesworth.

Signed limited edition of 300 prints.

Image size 24 inches x 8 inches (61cm x 20cm)


Item #2 - Click to view individual item

B0236. Preparing To Go - Crew of a Short Stirling by Ivan Berryman.

The crew of MkIII Short Stirling WP-M of No.90 Squadron RAF prepare for a flight test on the morning of 3rd July 1943.

Aircraft BK718, with designation WP-M, of No.90 Squadron RAF was lost over Germany in the early hours of 4th July 1943. Six of the seven crew were lost in the crash, the rear gunner surviving to be taken prisoner. Stirling WP-O was also lost on the same mission, with the loss of all seven crew.

The crew of Stirling WP-M, BK718: Sgt Hugh Murray, Flight Engineer - Sgt Robert Freeland, Air Bomber - P/O Geoffrey Smith, Air Gunner - Sgt Oliver Beard, Wireless Operator - P/O Andrew Gilmour, Navigator - F/Lt Robert Platt, Pilot - Sgt I. H. Norris, Air Gunner.

Signed by Sgt George B Thomson.

Signed limited edition of 35 prints.

Image size 12 inches x 9 inches (31cm x 22cm)


Website Price: £ 125.00  

To purchase these prints individually at their normal retail price would cost £265.00 . By buying them together in this special pack, you save £140




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


A R Charlesworth
*Signature Value : £15 (matted)

Volunteered at the age of 18 in 1942 and trained as a pilot in Canada. On returning to England in spring of 1942, he trained on Whitley Bombers and converted to Stirlings in January 1945. He took part in the Rhine Crossing towing a Horsa glider, which was his last operation. He joined 299 Sqdn at Shepherds Gove in April 1945 and was heavily engaged in towing gliders (Horsas) and supply drop training. Before the end of the European was, he flew Stirling [Vs supplying our advancing armies through Europe and completed one operational supply drop to Denmark underground forces. He left the RAF in 1947.


F/Lt Geoffrey Ware, DFC AE FCA
*Signature Value : £15 (matted)

Started his RAF career in December 1940 at No 1 Receiving Wing Babbacombe, then No 4 Initial Training Wing at Paignton. A long wait in the Liverpool area during which it was sunbathing or fatigues, led to a five-week trip in convoy to South Africa. There followed an enthralling year in what was then Southern Rhodesia for Elementary Flying Training on Tiger Moths and Service Flying Training on Harvards leading to the award of Wings. Instead of being sent to the Middle East, as was normal, a fast, unescorted trip took a boatload of fledgling pilots and navigators back to the UK. It appeared that the strategy of the war had changed and the emphasis was then on the build up of Bomber Command and therefore he was converted to multi-engined aircraft on Oxfords at South Cerney and on Wellingtons at further conversion to Stirlings at Waterbeach, plus two further crew members (making a crew of seven) and on to an operational tour with XV Squadron at Bourn and the award of the WC. It may be appropriate here to mention that the navigator was Brian E.B. Harris, DFC who has provided pictures and information to the authors of "Oxford's Own" (a history of XV Squadron) and "The Stirling". He has also produced a video tape called "Remember The Stirling". Brian is now the Chairman of 7he Stirling Project' which is a charity devoted to trying to build a Stirling aircraft for display purposes. (for further details tel: 01483 892626) Following the appropriate training F/Lt Ware became an Instructor at an Operational Training Unit and was Mentioned in Dispatches. After the War was over he transferred to Transport Command and spent the rest of his time in the RAF flying Liberators, mostly empty, to Karachi, and returning with 26 passengers, mostly troops. It was not easy to give up flying completely and he remained with the RAFVR and the RAux AF until they closed down, as a relief from and transition to, training to be a Chartered Accountant.


Wg. Cdr. F H P Austin OBE RAF
*Signature Value : £10 (matted)

Joined the RAF in September 1932 as an aircraft apprentice. After three years at Cranwell he was posted to No16 (AC) Squadron and trained as an Air Gunner. In 1937, he joined No. 36 (TB) Squadron in Singapore and in January 1939 he returned to the UK for training as an Air Observer. He was promoted to Sergeant and joined 149 (B) Squadron at Mildenhall. He flew his first operational sortie on 4th September 1939 (Kiel Canal) and continued operating with the squadron until his captain (Wg. Cdr. P. I. Harris DFC) was selected to command No7 Squadron. After aircraft familiarisation on Stirling aircraft he arrived at Oakington in October 1940. Now commissioned he was a crew member on the very first Stirling Operation on 10th February 1941, targeting oil tanks at Rotterdam. In September 1941, he was selected for Specialist Armament training, followed by spells as Chief Armament Instructor at Moreton-in-Marsh and Wellesbourne Mountford. Posted to Air Headquarters in India, in September 1945 and subsequently moved to the RAF Staff College in Haifa in 1946. After a flying refresher course he served with the Bomber Command Development Unit at Marham until 1948. After an exchange posting with RAAF HQ Melbourne he returned to the UK in January 1954 on promotion to Wg. Cdr. (Admin) at RAF Kinloss. His final posting was to the Supreme HQ Allied Powers Europe in 1959, retiring in 1965.
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


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.

Contact Details
Shipping Info
Terms and Conditions
Classified Ads
Valuations

Join us on Facebook!

Sign Up To Our Newsletter!

Stay up to date with all our latest offers, deals and events as well as new releases and exclusive subscriber content!

This website is owned by Cranston Fine Arts.  Torwood House, Torwoodhill Road, Rhu, Helensburgh, Scotland, G848LE

Contact: Tel: (+44) (0) 1436 820269.  Fax: (+44) (0) 1436 820473. Email:

Follow us on Twitter!

Return to Home Page