The Cologne/Gremberg raid, 23 December 1944. Sean Feast outlines the tragic story of a daylight ‘Heavy Oboe’ Lancaster raid during the Battle of the Bulge which led to the award of a Victoria Cross to its leader, Bob Palmer.
On December 16, 1944, German Panzers spearheaded a surprise attack through the Ardennes that smashed through thinly held Allied lines, catching the US and Allied commanders completely off-guard.
For many weeks prior, the Germans had been stockpiling tanks and guns for a bold stroke that aimed to slice the Allied armies in two and recapture the port of Antwerp. They had thrown everything into one last gamble, but it was a gamble that relied on the supply and resupply of men, munitions, and above all fuel continuing to reach the front line – to exploit the ‘bulge’ that has already been created and which would later give the Battle its name.
The Germans not only had the element of surprise but also the weather on their side. Time and again, Pathfinder heavy bomber crews from No. 582 Squadron at Little Staughton and No. 35 Squadron at Graveley, were briefed to attack the railway marshalling yards in the Gremberg district of Cologne – yards that were critical to the German supply route – only to have their attack postponed.
At the third time of asking, and despite atrocious weather in the UK, the decision was finally made to go.
Experienced Pathfinder crews
Many of those taking part were experienced bomber boys, with many hundreds of operations between them. Men like Squadron Leader Vivian Owen-Jones who’d flown at least 35 operations during his first tour in the Middle East in 1941 and was now well into his second tour with No. 582 Squadron as a Pathfinder; and Pilot Officer Kenneth Potts at No. 35 Squadron who’d similarly volunteered for Pathfinders after his first tour with No. 51 Squadron. He’d won the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) for bringing back his flak-damaged Halifax from a raid on Venlo and was no stranger to dangerous ops.
Arguably the most experienced of all was Squadron Leader Bob Palmer DFC & Bar (left), a pilot with No. 109 Squadron, also at Little Staughton, who’d flown his first sortie way back in September 1940, and now had a staggering 109 operations under his belt. The attack on Gremberg, which he was to lead - though in a slightly unusual role and in an unusual aircraft - would be his 110th.
The attack was to involve only a small number of aircraft in three formations, each led by a Lancaster equipped with a blind bombing device known as ‘Oboe’. Each formation was also accompanied by an Oboe-equipped Mosquito (from 109 and 105 Squadrons) to be held in reserve in case the equipment should fail in the lead aircraft.
‘Oboe’ enabled bombers to attack enemy targets even when that target was completely obscured by cloud. In a ‘Heavy Oboe’ attack, the device was installed in a heavy bomber, and the equipment came with an additional ‘crew’: the regular Lancaster crew was supplemented by a specialist Oboe pilot and navigator who literally swapped seats with their hosts for the bombing run.
For the attack on Cologne/Gremberg, Oboe experts Bob Palmer and his navigator Flight Lieutenant George Russell were to ride shotgun with the crew of Flight Lieutenant Owen Milne; the reserve Mosquito in the lead formation was to be flown by Flight Lieutenant Eric Carpenter.
The planners arguably should have known better. ‘Heavy’ Oboe raids had been experimented with before in the summer of 1944, with worrying results. The theory was that they delivered supreme accuracy even on the smallest targets and had been tried on the V1 launching sites in Northern France. On one such raid on Le Foret du Croc on 20 July 1944 comprising two waves of aircraft from Nos 105, 109, 156 and 582 Squadrons, the lead aircraft was shot down and another inadvertently dropped its bombs early due to the intense flak. Those who returned safely held strong opinions about ‘Heavy’ Oboes, and the senior officers who ordered them. (see V-Weapons Bomber Command: Failed to Return. Fighting High, 2015)
The need to fly straight and level
Oboe had few vices, as long as the bombers remained hidden. The principal drawback was that it required the pilot to fly straight and level for ten minutes in order to maintain the necessary ‘signal’ for when to release the bombs, and on whose lead the rest of the formation would also attack in salvo. It was also prone to technical problems, hence the need for a reserve Mosquito ready to take over in case of failure.
Taking off from the two airfields in thick fog, the first aircraft was away by 10.27hrs and the last fifteen minutes later. As the aircraft climbed to their first rendezvous point, tragedy struck when two aircraft from 35 Squadron collided with one another in the cloud, killing all onboard. The respective pilots, Pilot Officer Richard Clarke and Flying Officer George Lawson, were good pals; now they were united in death
It was an ominous sign. And it got worse. Rather than the thick cloud they had been promised over the target, the three formations arrived to find a brilliant clear blue sky. Someone had blundered, and the price to be paid was heavy.
Despite the change in conditions, there was confusion amongst the crews as to whether to break formation and bomb individually or carry on and bomb on their leader as they had been briefed. Bob Palmer, the Oboe pilot in the lead aircraft, took his seat for the Oboe run; George Russell listened to the Oboe signal for the release point.
The fatal danger of heavy, predicted flak
Heavy, predicted flak began to pepper the sky. The German defences were having a field day. Watching the aircraft flying straight and level at a constant height and speed, they had ten minutes to loose off as many shells as they could. It was ten minutes of target practice where they simply couldn’t miss. And they didn’t.
Not a single aircraft in the first formation escaped, prompting one 35 Squadron flight engineer, Tom Williamson DFM, to remark to the author: “the Germans had plenty of practice by the time we arrived.” The navigator in one of the reserve Mosquitoes, Gordon Musgrove DFC, was similarly matter of fact: “Such an opportunity [for the gunners] comes only once in a lifetime and I doubt if they ever worked so feverishly to fire as many shells in the shortest space of time.”
Just when they thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. German fighters appeared on the scene, led by one of Germany’s greatest ‘Experten’, Anton Hackl. ‘Toni’ Hackl had well over 150 ‘kills’ to his name at that time and was a feared opponent.
Many years later, survivors would discuss whether Hackl had arrived by chance, or whether the attack had somehow been betrayed. They would similarly discuss whether there’d been a fighter escort. Few, if any, could recall seeing friendly fighters, but they were certainly there. Mustangs from Nos 19, 65 and 122 Squadrons were fighting hard to keep the bomber boys safe, and surviving camera gun footage of a Mustang pursuing a German fighter, which is in turn firing at a Lancaster, still survives. But despite their best efforts, it was still a slaughter.
Heroic endeavour beyond praise
Despite his aircraft being hit and catching fire, Palmer, courageously, flew on, believing that if he broke formation, the whole attack would have to be abandoned. As the signal for release arrived, he dropped his bombs, and almost immediately the aircraft fell into a spin, out of control. Palmer paid for such courage with his life, later receiving the Victoria Cross for displaying ‘heroic endeavour… beyond praise’. Only one of Owen Milne’s crew, Flight Sergeant Russ Yeulett, made it out alive. The reserve Oboe Mosquito, with Eric Carpenter at the controls, was also hit, and plunged burning to the ground.
With their leader downed, the attack may have descended into chaos, but that wasn’t the case. There was certainly plenty of confusion within all three formations. Every captain made his own decision. Some Lancasters flew straight and level; others started to weave. But while they did, the fight for survival began.
Flak damaged many of the Lancasters, and those that had avoided the initial German response now come under sustained fighter attack. The gin sky was suddenly full of tracer fire, burning aircraft and the odd white speck and brown smudge of an open parachute and its owner.
Flight Lieutenant Walt Reif, an American whose father was born in Germany, desperately dodged and weaved the first of these attacks, as his gunners fought an ultimately futile rearguard action. As soon as it had begun it was over, the stricken bomber (PB120 ‘P’ Peter) falling from the sky as the surviving crew struggled to clip on their ‘chutes. Fortunately, the Canadian rear gunner, Flight Sergeant Bob Pearce, was wearing a seat-type chute on the insistence of his skipper. As such, he was able to turn his turret such that the exit doors were facing outside of the aircraft, and he could tumble out of the back. The mid-upper and fellow Canadian, Jack MacLennan, also made it out.
PB141 ‘F’ Freddie, the Lancaster of Flight Lieutenant Reg Hockley DFM was also hit and the order given to bail out. The aircraft broke into pieces, trapping two of the crew in a portion of the fuselage that fell to earth like a sycamore pod with no possible hope of survival for those inside. And yet they did. Indeed, all seven men survived the initial disaster; one, sadly, would be murdered later.
Flight Lieutenant Peter Thomas (left), in Lancaster PB523, withstood a series of fighter attacks, but with his aircraft ablaze, was obliged to give the order to bail out. Four of his crew made it out and survived; a fifth, the flight engineer Flight Sergeant Viv Hobbs, also made it clear but his chute cruelly failed to open. Thomas stayed at the controls with one of the wounded gunners, ‘Tex’ Campbell (right), with his film star looks and Stetsons. Neither made it home.
Spirited resistance from all of the crews
The Lancaster of Australian Flying Officer Robert Terpening DFC was not only hit by flak, but also set upon by fighters. But the fighters did not have it all their own way, and a spirited resistance from Terpening’s gunners gave him sufficient time to reach Allied lines, and for all of the crew to grab their ‘chutes and make it out alive.
Others fought through and made it back to base, among them another future recipient of the Victoria Cross, the South African Captain Edwin Swales (right, with crew). He fought a running battle lasting 15 minutes (for which he was awarded the DFC) before reaching safety. On all of the returning aircraft there were the scars of battle: dented fuselages, battered cockpits, shattered men.
The last to land was Vivian Owen-Jones in PB591 ‘N’ Nuts. A near-miss had shattered the cockpit Perspex, injuring his flight engineer. He was relieved to be home.
The shock among those who had taken part was palpable. Many of the pilots who returned were confused as to how the raid had gone so spectacularly wrong. That said, it was far from unsuccessful. The Oboe reports studied after the attack showed that at the point Palmer was shot down, his aircraft was tracking with absolute accuracy towards the target. Such precision was rarely achieved on a practice run, let alone on an actual raid with the aircraft under constant attack.
The raid succeeded in causing considerable damage to the marshalling yards but the price to pay was arguably too high: 35 Squadron lost two aircraft and crews, before even reaching the target; 582 Squadron lost five of its Lancasters, and of the three Mosquitoes, one (in the first wave) was also lost. Eight aircraft lost out of an attacking force of 30 was a terrible price to pay, especially so late in the war at a stage when Bomber Command had stopped calculating losses in terms of percentages. In addition to those aircraft and crews that failed to return, many more returned with serious damage and injured crew. Some aircraft were so badly damaged that they need to be sent away for repair and rebuild.
The commanding officer at Graveley, Group Captain ‘Dixie’ Dean was distraught; the new officer commanding 582 Squadron, Wing Commander Stafford Coulson, was also concerned for the morale of his men. One of the Little Staughton boys lit Stafford’s newspaper while he was reading it, so he knew they would soon bounce back.
Five days later, Bomber Command returned to finish the job.
Adapted from Heroic Endeavour – the remarkable story of one Pathfinder Force attack, a Victoria Cross, and 206 brave men, by Sean Feast (Grub Street 2006).
V-Weapons Bomber Command Failed to Return by Steve Bond, Steve Darlow, Sean Feast, Marc Hall, Robert Owen, Howard Sandall.