Rear Gunner/Bomb Aimer                                             Lancaster “J” Johnny
A memorable and amusing night was July 25/26, 1944. The target “STUTTGARD” (ball bearings). Tenth op.
We arrived on the target without incident, but the was when all Hell broke loose. The flak was the heaviest we had seen so far, even from the previous night on the same target. Both nights 10/10 clouds. It appeared that all guns were focussed to form a solid curtain across the target area and we had to fly through it no matter what. It was really bumpy ride over the target and we were glad to get those bomb-bay doors closed and get to Hell out of there. On leaving the target the “Nav” gave the skipper the first leg home and everyone settled down for the return trip. We had no sighting of fighters, but they were around. We could see their trademark around us for awhile. After flying the first course home for a period, the Nav. questioned the course the “Skipper” was flying. Something was up. The Nav. thought something was amiss with their compasses and asked to have the Master Compass checked. The WAG went back to check and announced that the rear end of the aircraft was a mess, including the Master Compas and some bulkheads had been redesigned just forward of the rear turret. On hearing this, the Nav. maintained the course we were flying, and proceeded to shoot the stars to get our location. Thank God we were above the clouds and had clear skies. It turned out we were heading for the Atlantic across France instead of the Channel, so we turned right and headed North with the Nav. checking the stars periodically. On this trip I had, before leaving the dispersal picked up a 10 lb. practise bomb left over from a previous exercise and smuggled it into my rear turret between my feet, with the idea of dropping it over the target. With all the excitement over and after the target it slipped my mind, until we were pretty well half way to the Channel. At that time I figured it was time to get rid of it. So I got my nerve up and mentioned it to the Bomb Aimer, asking him if he could give me a target. Of course, the Skipper on hearing this, proceeded to tear a strip off his indispensible Rear Gunner. (I’m sure if I could have been jettisoned, he would have pushed the button ). The Skipper asked the Bomb Aimer to provide a target for me and that I had better hit the damn thing. So a frustrated Rear Gunner wishing to become the first Rear Bomb Aimer (maybe) sits and waits for the Front Guy to come up with a suitable target which he does, as the rays of the coming dawn streaks across that land of the hero “DeGaulle”.
The target sighted, I’m told to get ready. Reaching out into space with pin pulled, steady------steady bomb gone. Wait for non-existnet photo flash, peer out as puff of white smoke passes under, but no target.
Oh; There it is (shed, not an outhouse damn it). I’m about a quarter mile short. That Front Guy is lousy and I told him so. The Skipper says, “OK we’ve had ou fun, lets settle down and get home.” and by the way I can forget becoming a Rear Bomb Aimer again. We did finally get home agout an hour late on fuel fumes, which made the CO. happy. No letters to write, but the ground crew were peeved with what we had done to their beautiful baby.

B/A “Jonesy”, M/U “Eddy”, WAG “Andy”,WAG “Trevor”, NAV “Nip”, Skip”Curly” RG-Me.