Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 13, 2020 15:22:50 GMT 12
FLIGHT TO GERMANY
IMPRESSIONS FROM THE AIR
(Special P.A. Correspondent.) Rec. 9.45 a.m. LONDON, April 30,
"How would you like to come with me to Germany?" asked Group Captain D. J. Scott, D.S.O., O.B.E., D.F.C., of Hokitika. He was to visit some of the forward R.A.F. stations, not near the link-up but in the heart of the Reich, and would be seeing the Germans at first hand. There was only one answer, and with Flight Lieutenant L. S. M. White, D.F.C., of Gore, who was mentioned in dispatches for escaping from France via Spain in five and a half weeks, and Flight Lieutenant L. P. Griffiths, D.F.C., one of the original members of the New Zealand Spitfire. Squadron, and having secured permission from SHAEF, we took off from the station Group Captain Scott is now commanding in' England. We flew in an Anson, a twin-engined, slow, and rackety but reliable plane, and were over Dungeness in three-quarters of an hour.
The Channel was the colour of a battleship, its flat greyness relieved only by the lacing wakes of two warships, and 12 minutes later we were over France. We made a brief call at an airfield near Dunkirk, and we heard Germans firing and saw shell bursts in the area of Lapanne — from where thousands of members of the British Expeditionary Force were evacuated in that historic period now nearly five years ago. In another hour and a half we touched down on an airfield near Nijmegen, where the famous bridge, the scene of fierce actions, stands undamaged, and looks from the air like a neat new toy.
When we took off again Group Captain Scott flew low, at about 100 feet, over the remaining lap of Holland, and in a matter of minutes we were across the frontier and over German soil, roaring low over flat agricultural country, unhedged, with large patches of fir forests looking almost black in comparison with the delicate new green of silver birches sprinkled like confetti here and there and contrasting sharply with the bright red and steeply slanting roofs of the villages and wayside houses which slid rapidly by below us.
COUNTRYSIDE LITTLE DAMAGED.
From the air we could see little of the damage we had noted in France, a few staring bomb-holes or wrecked houses. This area had escaped lightly. Here and there were knots of black and white cattle, and neat regimented fields sprouting in answer to the touch of spring. As we flew on we watched R.A.F. convoys droning along the roads, and noted here a listless broken aircraft and there a smashed bridge.
Finally we arrived for the night at a Tempest field. Here we met a wing commander from Waipawa, who, in the absence of his group captain, was commanding the airfield and acting as military commander of a nearby town. He was standing on the platform in the operations room when we arrived, listening to reports of his squadrons, which had just been strafing German transport south of Denmark, and looking grave as he listened to confirmation of the loss of a New Zealand pilot whose aircraft, hit directly by flak, had disintegrated. The reports concluded and rechecked, he grinned to us and threw us an orange across the operations room. Later we drove through the German countryside to a Luftwaffe store which had been reported to the wing commander and in which he hoped he would find equipment which he could use. He was not disappointed.
Leaving him, we flew low in perfect weather to an airfield 20 miles behind the army, the most forward airfield at that time and which was commanded by a group captain from Lower Hutt. We had expected to find the New Zealand Tempest Squadron there, but it was due two days later. Here were wrecked German aircraft by the dozen, some hidden in trees and some left hastily in hangars — a fresh stage in the long trail of wrecked, deserted German airfields which tell the same tale of the defeated Luftwaffe.
Apart from placing booby traps in some aircraft, the Germans had left so hurriedly that they did not bother to carry out demolitions, so that the airfield buildings and quarters were undamaged save for precautionary mortaring by the advancing Allied Army. This was a luxuriously-fitted station, well dispersed, and well camouflaged. The local Germans were only too willing and friendly, and those who had been ordered to blow up certain quarters thoughtfully told where the charges were and helped to dismantle them. It was disappointing to arrive too soon to see the New Zealand Squadron at this airfield before we set out on the flight back to Holland. There we stayed the night with the New Zealand Spitfire Squadron, which recently has been engaged in shooting up motor transport successfully and without loss.
EVENING POST, 1 MAY 1945
IMPRESSIONS FROM THE AIR
(Special P.A. Correspondent.) Rec. 9.45 a.m. LONDON, April 30,
"How would you like to come with me to Germany?" asked Group Captain D. J. Scott, D.S.O., O.B.E., D.F.C., of Hokitika. He was to visit some of the forward R.A.F. stations, not near the link-up but in the heart of the Reich, and would be seeing the Germans at first hand. There was only one answer, and with Flight Lieutenant L. S. M. White, D.F.C., of Gore, who was mentioned in dispatches for escaping from France via Spain in five and a half weeks, and Flight Lieutenant L. P. Griffiths, D.F.C., one of the original members of the New Zealand Spitfire. Squadron, and having secured permission from SHAEF, we took off from the station Group Captain Scott is now commanding in' England. We flew in an Anson, a twin-engined, slow, and rackety but reliable plane, and were over Dungeness in three-quarters of an hour.
The Channel was the colour of a battleship, its flat greyness relieved only by the lacing wakes of two warships, and 12 minutes later we were over France. We made a brief call at an airfield near Dunkirk, and we heard Germans firing and saw shell bursts in the area of Lapanne — from where thousands of members of the British Expeditionary Force were evacuated in that historic period now nearly five years ago. In another hour and a half we touched down on an airfield near Nijmegen, where the famous bridge, the scene of fierce actions, stands undamaged, and looks from the air like a neat new toy.
When we took off again Group Captain Scott flew low, at about 100 feet, over the remaining lap of Holland, and in a matter of minutes we were across the frontier and over German soil, roaring low over flat agricultural country, unhedged, with large patches of fir forests looking almost black in comparison with the delicate new green of silver birches sprinkled like confetti here and there and contrasting sharply with the bright red and steeply slanting roofs of the villages and wayside houses which slid rapidly by below us.
COUNTRYSIDE LITTLE DAMAGED.
From the air we could see little of the damage we had noted in France, a few staring bomb-holes or wrecked houses. This area had escaped lightly. Here and there were knots of black and white cattle, and neat regimented fields sprouting in answer to the touch of spring. As we flew on we watched R.A.F. convoys droning along the roads, and noted here a listless broken aircraft and there a smashed bridge.
Finally we arrived for the night at a Tempest field. Here we met a wing commander from Waipawa, who, in the absence of his group captain, was commanding the airfield and acting as military commander of a nearby town. He was standing on the platform in the operations room when we arrived, listening to reports of his squadrons, which had just been strafing German transport south of Denmark, and looking grave as he listened to confirmation of the loss of a New Zealand pilot whose aircraft, hit directly by flak, had disintegrated. The reports concluded and rechecked, he grinned to us and threw us an orange across the operations room. Later we drove through the German countryside to a Luftwaffe store which had been reported to the wing commander and in which he hoped he would find equipment which he could use. He was not disappointed.
Leaving him, we flew low in perfect weather to an airfield 20 miles behind the army, the most forward airfield at that time and which was commanded by a group captain from Lower Hutt. We had expected to find the New Zealand Tempest Squadron there, but it was due two days later. Here were wrecked German aircraft by the dozen, some hidden in trees and some left hastily in hangars — a fresh stage in the long trail of wrecked, deserted German airfields which tell the same tale of the defeated Luftwaffe.
Apart from placing booby traps in some aircraft, the Germans had left so hurriedly that they did not bother to carry out demolitions, so that the airfield buildings and quarters were undamaged save for precautionary mortaring by the advancing Allied Army. This was a luxuriously-fitted station, well dispersed, and well camouflaged. The local Germans were only too willing and friendly, and those who had been ordered to blow up certain quarters thoughtfully told where the charges were and helped to dismantle them. It was disappointing to arrive too soon to see the New Zealand Squadron at this airfield before we set out on the flight back to Holland. There we stayed the night with the New Zealand Spitfire Squadron, which recently has been engaged in shooting up motor transport successfully and without loss.
EVENING POST, 1 MAY 1945
