Sean Feast charts the life of one of the RAF’s most remarkable airmen and Light Night Striking Force CO Wing Commander Guy Lockhart DSO, DFC and Bar.
(To hear the recent podcast about the Light Night Striking Force visit our Fighting High Podcast page)
Within the ranks of the Light Night Striking Force (LNSF) was a man who Donald Bennett, the Pathfinder AOC, described as ‘fanatically courageous and press on at all times and in all circumstances.’ He was a man who flew Spitfires and Lysanders before being appointed Officer Commanding No. 692 Squadron LNSF and subsequently taking command of No. 7 Squadron at Oakington from where he flew his final sortie on 27 April 1944.
Whereas greats like Gibson, Cheshire and Martin will be familiar to students of Bomber Command, the name Guy Lockhart is less likely to be known but equally deserving of the accolades so generously heaped on others.
(Guy Lockhart - a true master of the air.)
(Image explicitly not to be reproduced without permission)
William Guy Lockhart was a pre war regular who originally trained as a fighter pilot. His short service commission ended up being shorter than he originally envisaged, when he was court martialled for a low flying incident at the Empire Air Day flying display and dismissed from the service. It appears that his antics caused a visiting AOC to fall flat on his face, and the AOC demanded his head.
With the outbreak of war, however, Lockhart was allowed to re enlist with the Volunteer Reserve as a sergeant pilot. Flying defensive sorties and then offensive sweeps with 74 ‘Tiger’ Squadron as part of the Biggin Hill Wing in the summer of 1941, Lockhart accounted for the loss of a Bf109 on 2 July, flying as wingman to the great fighter ace and wing leader Wing Commander ‘Sailor’ Malan.
Escorting 12 Blenheim light bombers on a ‘circus’ – an operation to lure enemy fighters into combat – Malan and Lockhart found themselves in a dogfight, Malan taking a shot at a Messerschmitt as it dived through the bomber formation and into a steep climb. Lockhart fired too, a two second burst, and had the satisfaction of seeing the enemy fighter spin onto its back, trailing smoke. He lost sight of it as it disappeared below 8,000ft and was rewarded with a half share in a ‘kill’. A few days later he had even greater success, accounting for two Bf109s before himself being shot down. He baled out over France from 16,000ft, landing unconscious in the top of a tree in Ergny, while his aircraft – a factory-fresh Spitfire – crashed at Avesnes.
Despite being captured for a short spell, he managed to get away and, on 9 August, crossed into Spain after several adventures along the way. Held by the Spanish authorities, it was not until the end of October that he arrived back in the UK via Gibraltar and was posted to fly Whitleys with 138 (Special Duties) Squadron. Almost immediately he asked to be transferred to the squadron’s Lysander flight, to be trained in the hazardous role of landing enemy agents (called ‘Joes’) in France.
The ‘Moonlight’ Squadron, as it was called, was not for the faint hearted and involved incredibly dangerous work. Lockhart never knew the real identities of the men and women he dropped off or picked up from the hastily arranged landing strips in the French countryside, but he recognised their work was vital to the war as part of the Special Operations Executive with a brief to ‘set Europe ablaze’. Posted to 161 Squadron upon its formation for similar duties, Lockhart had a heart in the mouth moment on one of his first trips (Operation Baccarat II) when his aircraft became bogged down in a field. The reception party helped with turning the aircraft around and Lockhart managed to make good his escape, with his two agents safely on board. He had been on the ground for 17 long minutes and was a relieved man to make it back to Tangmere in the small hours of the morning.
By now commissioned, Lockhart was awarded the DFC in June 1942 – the citation noting his ‘great skill and initiative’ – and given command of A Flight. With the French underground networks in turmoil following a number of betrayals, 161 Squadron was given a cameo role as a light bomber force until pick up operations could resume, dropping 250lb bombs on the marshalling yards at Serqueux and the chemical works at Oissel.
On the night of 31 August/1 September, and with normal service resumed, Lockhart took off for Operation Boreas II but, upon landing, crashed into a grass covered ditch, taking out the landing gear. The field had been poorly chosen and the error thoroughly avoidable. Lockhart attempted to make contact with a second Lysander overhead by signalling the letters of his name but the pilot, fearing it to be a trap, left the area soon after. Lockhart destroyed the Lysander’s identification friend or foe device and hacked at the auxiliary fuel tank with an axe before setting the aircraft on fire with an incendiary bomb. He made his way to the south coast with two French agents to a pre arranged rendezvous with a Polish crewed Felucca from Gibraltar that would take them to safety. An altercation with the coast guard led to the two Frenchmen being arrested, but Lockhart was taken off safely and again returned to the UK via the Rock. He was awarded an immediate DSO, this time being praised for his ‘careful organisation and planning’.
Now a squadron leader, Lockhart’s promotion had been little short of meteoric, given only a few months earlier he had still been an NCO. He flew another hairy operation on 18 November when his Lysander was intercepted by seven Fw 190s near Jersey and he was obliged to take violent evasive action, with his passengers still on board. The high manoeuvrability of the Lysander and Lockhart’s undoubted flying skills saved the day, along with an embracing blanket of cloud, but they were now far from home and partly lost over the Channel. Despite briefly considering the option to bale out, pilot and ‘Joes’ agreed to attempt to make it home. It was a brave decision. When they landed, they had just five gallons left in the tanks.
Tour expired and posted to the Deputy Directorate of Intelligence as an acting wing commander, Lockhart was not flying a desk for long before he wangled a posting to 627 Squadron, one of the LNSF squadrons, as a flight commander. This was followed soon after with his first operational command, as CO of the newly formed 692 Squadron, and the award of a bar to his DFC (gazetted after his death).
Lockhart was only in charge of 692 for a few weeks but he made a lasting impression, both on the authorities and Bennett himself. The citation for his second DFC credited him for the fine record of the squadron and his own willingness to take on the enemy with ‘unremitting keenness and zeal’.
With the loss of Kenneth Rampling on the night of 22 March 1944, Lockhart was asked to swap two engines for four and take command of 7 Squadron. He arrived in Oakington on 24 March and nearly came to grief on his first familiarisation trip a few days later. This was the night of the infamous raid on Nuremberg, Lockhart choosing to fly as second pilot to an inexperienced NCO, Robert Banks. Homeward bound, their Lancaster was attacked by an Fw190, Banks throwing the heavy bomber into a starboard corkscrew. The German fighter, however, was no novice and stayed with them throughout the manoeuvre, latching onto their tail. The rear gunner let fly with a long burst, whereupon the fighter seemed to break away and into the sights of the mid upper gunner, who also fired. Their actions were enough. Hits were registered and the fighter disappeared.
Four weeks later, Lockhart’s extraordinary luck finally ran out when he was shot down and killed on operations over Friederichshafen, taking with him a vastly experienced crew. They included a 35 year old former postman, George Ryle, who had taken part in the first ever raid on Berlin and whose wife, Peggy, kept a moving diary while her husband was missing. She had to wait until September before final confirmation that her ‘darling Georgie’ was dead.
It was said that Lockhart’s personal hatred for the Nazi regime was what motivated him to press home attacks in circumstances that might have deterred other pilots. There was certainly one occasion when he lost an engine on the outward leg to bomb Berlin and continued on to the target. And there were many others when he braved flak and fighters, undertaking ‘spoof ’ raids to draw the enemy defenders away from their real objective.
Whatever his motivation, Wing Commander W G Lockhart DSO, DFC and Bar, Croix de Guerre is surely more deserving of recognition, and there can be very few, if any, who matched his phenomenal operational achievement as a fighter pilot, Moonshine pilot, LNSF Mosquito pilot and PFF pilot extraordinaire.