Post by Dave Homewood on Jul 15, 2020 18:01:26 GMT 12
Wow a great article by Kiwi ace S/Ldr Bob Spurdle!
TOUGH ASSIGNMENT
OVER THE RHINE BY GLIDER
O.C. , LONDON, May 4.
The last airborne operation of the war against Germany took place when the Allied armies crossed the Rhine. Here is the story of Squadron Leader R. L. Spurdle, D.F.C., and Bar (Wanganui), who went in a glider. His job was to establish radio communication with rocket-firing Typhoons and to inform them of targets that the Army wanted attacked.
Squadron Leader Spurdle fought during the Battle of Britain in Spitfires, operated against the Japanese at Guadalcanal and then returned to Europe to fly Tempests. His tour of operations ended, and forbidden to fly, he volunteered to take part in the final airborne operation.
When we had crossed the Rhine and our Stirling had cast us free and the towing rope had dropped away, I left the cockpit, where I had been peering out over the shoulders of the pilot and co-pilot, and went back and sat down where I could see nothing. I was scared stiff. I have never been so scared in my life before.
While flying up to the Rhine we had seen the tail unit fall away from a glider in front of us, spewing out its crew and their jeep. They had no parachutes. We had seen a Stirling, weaving slow spirals and streaming black smoke, go down to its death crash.
We had seen Dakotas, hit by flak, burning furiously, diving helplessly out of control.
I didn't want to see any more, and so I went back and stared at the jeep, the inside of the glider, the floor boards —anything to try to forget, even momentarily, how scared I was. It was quiet at first, after the tow-rope had been released; but soon we heard the sounds of the battle below us. And it wasn't very encouraging.
As we got lower the explosions seemed to blend into one big roar, and soon they were being punctuated with cracks and smacks from the glider itself. We were touching down at 90 miles an hour, and the pilots were deliberately hitting a tree there, a post here, to check our speed. Suddenly the nose-wheel burst through the floor beneath my feet, and as we jerked over the last few yards our jeep and trailer, chained up inside the glider, bucketed backwards and forwards in answer to every collision. It seemed almost alive, straining at its chains to smash us.
THE HARDEST PART.
Then we stopped. There was a blanketing din outside, punctuated with the staccato rattle of machine-guns. We were down all right, but now we had to keep alive, and get the jeep out of the glider and find our position. In addition to the pilots, there were three men with me.
The hardest part of the entire day was to get out of that glider. Inside it was relatively peaceful, and the shell of the fuselage, hiding the battle, seemed as safe as a castle.
We poked our noses out. We were on the edge of a wood. Bound to be Germans there, we thought, and so we dashed out, a few yards away from the glider, and fell flat in the grass and lay there. We wanted to get acclimatised.
We could see American parachutists, hanging from the trees by their parachutes, dead. One was lying, quite still, in a puddle. Gilders were sailing down, and flak posts were spouting shells at them. Many caught fire, some blew up. Mortar bombs seemed to be coming from all directions. We could not hear them coming because of the din. There was just a flat "whack," then a burst of grey-brown smoke.
It was a burning hot day. Misty haze, mingled with smoke from the fires at Wesel, hung low over the ground. We saw men appearing and disappearing in it. Feeling better, we returned to the glider and stripped to our shirts, tried to get the jeep free. It was worrying work. Shell splinters and bullets occasionally burst through the flimsy fuselage, startling us, each one bringing a renewed spurt of fear.
SAFETY MEASURE.
Soon we got both the jeep and trailer clear. We could see a farmhouse nearby and we drove over to it. It had been captured by Americans. One of them had found a German with a dagger hidden in his pants, and every German had been ordered to remove his pants—just in case. When we arrived about ten Germans were running around, with their pants off, putting out a fire in one of the sheds.
A little distance away were about eight women of various ages, huddled together, with a German doctor and several orderlies. We were feeling much better now, not scared, and it even seemed amusing to notice a number of different fights going on all around us about 400 yards away. Here and there our chaps were walking about doing various jobs, quite unconcerned, while not far away German machine-gunners were blazing away at other troops attacking them.
A bulldozer, glider delivered, trundled up from somewhere. We got the driver to make two big scoops tor us, and then we drove the jeep and the trailer in, and felt more comfortable for being partly hidden, although by now we were not ducking and flinching instinctively every time we heard an explosion.
Soon we were in radio contact with a forward R.A.F. control post. We looked at our watches. An hour and a half had passed since our glider had crash-landed. We could see Typhoons milling about overhead, but it was too soon yet to give them targets. The fighting was too mixed up, too confused.
SS MEN SET TO WORK.
Gradually the din began to die down. Bangs, pops, and rattles quietened, and as the day wore on batches of German prisoners began to arrive. We selected the toughest-looking SS troops and made them dig slit trenches for us.. Some of them seemed to think they were digging their own graves. They looked white and scared, but most relieved when they found we were not going to shoot them.
The next two days passed quickly. Our communications were going to plan and we found the boys plenty of targets. Sometimes I talked to pilots in my old squadron. Once they shot down two Messerschmitts 109 in a battle fight over our heads.
We spent five days with the Jeep altogether, There was plenty to do during the days; at nights, in the full moonlight, we had occasional visits from Junkers 88. Then we were recalled, back to England, back to our group headquarters, and there we were invited to lunch by Air Vice-Marshal Sir Harry Broadhurst, the A.O.C., who seemed quite satisfied with the way everything had turned out.
Our next job was to return to Germany and to join the 11th Armoured Division, The job was the same, to direct aircraft on to targets, but this time we had the protection of a tank. We found the Division near the Weser and went forward with it during the next fortnight to the Elbe.
"WONDERFUL EXPERIENCE."
Often we were first into newly-captured towns. We saw many liberated prisoners, and once we ran slap into prisoners who had just left their camp to be marched off. Their guards were still armed, but everyone, including the Germans, gave us a cheer and a grin as we pushed through. We found the Germans docile everywhere we went, which was the best policy for them.
There was plenty of food to be had, including eggs and poultry. Everywhere our mess went it took over the best farm and gave the Germans fifteen minutes to get out. They didn't argue. It was a wonderful experience. I'm glad now I went with the glider. But I wouldn't want to do it again.
EVENING POST, 16 JUNE 1945
TOUGH ASSIGNMENT
OVER THE RHINE BY GLIDER
O.C. , LONDON, May 4.
The last airborne operation of the war against Germany took place when the Allied armies crossed the Rhine. Here is the story of Squadron Leader R. L. Spurdle, D.F.C., and Bar (Wanganui), who went in a glider. His job was to establish radio communication with rocket-firing Typhoons and to inform them of targets that the Army wanted attacked.
Squadron Leader Spurdle fought during the Battle of Britain in Spitfires, operated against the Japanese at Guadalcanal and then returned to Europe to fly Tempests. His tour of operations ended, and forbidden to fly, he volunteered to take part in the final airborne operation.
When we had crossed the Rhine and our Stirling had cast us free and the towing rope had dropped away, I left the cockpit, where I had been peering out over the shoulders of the pilot and co-pilot, and went back and sat down where I could see nothing. I was scared stiff. I have never been so scared in my life before.
While flying up to the Rhine we had seen the tail unit fall away from a glider in front of us, spewing out its crew and their jeep. They had no parachutes. We had seen a Stirling, weaving slow spirals and streaming black smoke, go down to its death crash.
We had seen Dakotas, hit by flak, burning furiously, diving helplessly out of control.
I didn't want to see any more, and so I went back and stared at the jeep, the inside of the glider, the floor boards —anything to try to forget, even momentarily, how scared I was. It was quiet at first, after the tow-rope had been released; but soon we heard the sounds of the battle below us. And it wasn't very encouraging.
As we got lower the explosions seemed to blend into one big roar, and soon they were being punctuated with cracks and smacks from the glider itself. We were touching down at 90 miles an hour, and the pilots were deliberately hitting a tree there, a post here, to check our speed. Suddenly the nose-wheel burst through the floor beneath my feet, and as we jerked over the last few yards our jeep and trailer, chained up inside the glider, bucketed backwards and forwards in answer to every collision. It seemed almost alive, straining at its chains to smash us.
THE HARDEST PART.
Then we stopped. There was a blanketing din outside, punctuated with the staccato rattle of machine-guns. We were down all right, but now we had to keep alive, and get the jeep out of the glider and find our position. In addition to the pilots, there were three men with me.
The hardest part of the entire day was to get out of that glider. Inside it was relatively peaceful, and the shell of the fuselage, hiding the battle, seemed as safe as a castle.
We poked our noses out. We were on the edge of a wood. Bound to be Germans there, we thought, and so we dashed out, a few yards away from the glider, and fell flat in the grass and lay there. We wanted to get acclimatised.
We could see American parachutists, hanging from the trees by their parachutes, dead. One was lying, quite still, in a puddle. Gilders were sailing down, and flak posts were spouting shells at them. Many caught fire, some blew up. Mortar bombs seemed to be coming from all directions. We could not hear them coming because of the din. There was just a flat "whack," then a burst of grey-brown smoke.
It was a burning hot day. Misty haze, mingled with smoke from the fires at Wesel, hung low over the ground. We saw men appearing and disappearing in it. Feeling better, we returned to the glider and stripped to our shirts, tried to get the jeep free. It was worrying work. Shell splinters and bullets occasionally burst through the flimsy fuselage, startling us, each one bringing a renewed spurt of fear.
SAFETY MEASURE.
Soon we got both the jeep and trailer clear. We could see a farmhouse nearby and we drove over to it. It had been captured by Americans. One of them had found a German with a dagger hidden in his pants, and every German had been ordered to remove his pants—just in case. When we arrived about ten Germans were running around, with their pants off, putting out a fire in one of the sheds.
A little distance away were about eight women of various ages, huddled together, with a German doctor and several orderlies. We were feeling much better now, not scared, and it even seemed amusing to notice a number of different fights going on all around us about 400 yards away. Here and there our chaps were walking about doing various jobs, quite unconcerned, while not far away German machine-gunners were blazing away at other troops attacking them.
A bulldozer, glider delivered, trundled up from somewhere. We got the driver to make two big scoops tor us, and then we drove the jeep and the trailer in, and felt more comfortable for being partly hidden, although by now we were not ducking and flinching instinctively every time we heard an explosion.
Soon we were in radio contact with a forward R.A.F. control post. We looked at our watches. An hour and a half had passed since our glider had crash-landed. We could see Typhoons milling about overhead, but it was too soon yet to give them targets. The fighting was too mixed up, too confused.
SS MEN SET TO WORK.
Gradually the din began to die down. Bangs, pops, and rattles quietened, and as the day wore on batches of German prisoners began to arrive. We selected the toughest-looking SS troops and made them dig slit trenches for us.. Some of them seemed to think they were digging their own graves. They looked white and scared, but most relieved when they found we were not going to shoot them.
The next two days passed quickly. Our communications were going to plan and we found the boys plenty of targets. Sometimes I talked to pilots in my old squadron. Once they shot down two Messerschmitts 109 in a battle fight over our heads.
We spent five days with the Jeep altogether, There was plenty to do during the days; at nights, in the full moonlight, we had occasional visits from Junkers 88. Then we were recalled, back to England, back to our group headquarters, and there we were invited to lunch by Air Vice-Marshal Sir Harry Broadhurst, the A.O.C., who seemed quite satisfied with the way everything had turned out.
Our next job was to return to Germany and to join the 11th Armoured Division, The job was the same, to direct aircraft on to targets, but this time we had the protection of a tank. We found the Division near the Weser and went forward with it during the next fortnight to the Elbe.
"WONDERFUL EXPERIENCE."
Often we were first into newly-captured towns. We saw many liberated prisoners, and once we ran slap into prisoners who had just left their camp to be marched off. Their guards were still armed, but everyone, including the Germans, gave us a cheer and a grin as we pushed through. We found the Germans docile everywhere we went, which was the best policy for them.
There was plenty of food to be had, including eggs and poultry. Everywhere our mess went it took over the best farm and gave the Germans fifteen minutes to get out. They didn't argue. It was a wonderful experience. I'm glad now I went with the glider. But I wouldn't want to do it again.
EVENING POST, 16 JUNE 1945
