Veterans' fond touch brings Lancaster to life

By ADRIENNE KOHLER

At 19, an age when playing sport or meeting a girl is a priority for most Kiwi males, John Tarbuck was piloting a Lancaster bomber over Germany knowing he and his crew might not return.

The Aucklander flew 32 sorties for the Royal Air Force's Bomber Command, responsible for staging raids over Western Europe, and where the odds of survival were often only about 25 per cent.

Today, every week he visits the aviation display hangar at Auckland's Museum of Technology and Transport (Motat), not only to help restore one of the world's few remaining Lancasters, but to enjoy the camaraderie of Bomber Command veterans who, 60 years after those life-and-death sorties, meet to talk and share memories.

But the memories are fast dwindling as the veterans age, and Motat is racing to record their oral history for future generations.

Motat director Jeremy Hubbard says the museum is tremendously grateful to the veterans.

"I am humbled by their dedication and their commitment. They are a unique group of people. They gave life to the plane and have established a trust fund for its ongoing maintenance.

"More than that, they bring life to the artefacts. Nothing can replace talking to people who have been a part of history."

Bill Simpson was a pilot in the Pathfinder force and formed the New Zealand Bomber Command Association in 1986 after he discovered the Lancaster decaying in a field at the back of Motat.

At its peak, the association had more than 800 members, but this had dropped to 400 when it officially disbanded 18 months ago.

Today, about 20 faithfully attend every Wednesday morning. In the prefab where they gather for morning tea, it is easy to imagine the constant jibes in air-field huts throughout wartime England.

Yet if you ask the veterans, "What was it like to fly a bombing raid?" they downplay their achievements.

"Never really thought too much about it - too busy. It was just what we did," says Mr Tarbuck.

Navigator Jack Ward: "I was always thankful I had no time to think - I was flat-stick preparing. I was still working going out to the aircraft."

However, as they chat the memories surface. Not of heroic deeds and momentous battles, but the funny, quirky events.

Mr Tarbuck: "One time we took off late in the day, and went into cloud at 600 feet [180m] - but at 2000 feet we came up into sunshine and into this valley of cloud. We were flying in the sunshine and the wingtips were in the cloud on either side, just streaming along."

"We hated the moon," recalls Mr Simpson. "It made us easy to see.

"I always remember being followed by a German night fighter in the moonlight."

But bomb aimer Doug McDonald only flew in moonlight, on low-level sorties to France, dropping fuel, arms and people to the French Resistance.

"One time, we were flying along in bright moonlight when I suddenly yelled 'up'. We were about to fly straight into a radio antenna."

In the hangar, museum visitors wander around the Lancaster, fascinated by the impressive aircraft with its four Merlin engines, capable of lifting 10 tonnes of explosives.

Once inside, however, the interior is rudimentary, it is cramped and the wartime fittings seem primitive.

The only protection for the seven aircrew was a few millimetres of metal.

Dressed in full flight gear, the aircrew had to clamber to their posts " ... if we couldn't do an emergency exit for ditching in 60 seconds we couldn't go on leave", recalls Mr Tarbuck.

Sitting in the hangar, the plane's metal walls are cold, touch them at 20,000 feet and they would freeze the skin off your hands.

It must have been an awe-inspiring sight; hundreds of bombers flying in waves across the North Sea, often through terrible weather, then the massive explosions as thousands of bombs dropped on enemy targets.

Yet, the crew rarely saw other planes and only the bomb aimer saw the bombs drop as the pilot's view was blocked by the bulk of the aircraft, says Mr Tarbuck

It was the Pathfinder crews such as Mr Simpson, flying Mosquitoes, who saw the most, after dropping target indicators.

"It was fearsome to see an attack opening, see the markers go down, then the flares from the Lancaster and see the first loads of heavies come through, says Mr Simpson.

As World War II becomes more remote, separated by time and generations, the veterans' hope is that the Lancaster and information they leave is a tribute to the more than 11,000 New Zealanders who served in Bomber Command and the 2300 who died, and is a legacy to future generations of their unique experiences.

"Everybody's story is different, everybody's story the same," says Mr Tarbuck. "When we got to go home that was the end of one life and the beginning of another."

* Adrienne Kohler is a reporter for the Aucklander, a Herald Community Publication. She recently won the Community Newspapers Association's Young Journalist of the Year Award.