This is my Uncle Keith Wathen, my mother's only brother who was an Australian flying with 415 squadron RCAF, part of Coastal Command.
He was killed on the night of the Dam Busters raid, flying a Handley Page Hampden off the Dutch coast in a torpedo attack on German shipping.
His death had a profound effect on the family.
Here's one of his letters which is undated, but was probably from the latter part of 1942. He was stationed at Thorney Island, not far from Portsmouth. It's a ripping yarn.
"Since then our squadron has moved down south to more clement climes. Before leaving the last station I had somewhat of an experience - rather shaking. A flap started one day when a capital ship of the German Navy left it's hiding place. At about 8 o'clock the same night it was decided that three aircraft from our squadron plus six from another squadron should go out and attack it in the dark before it reached it's next hiding place. The crews chosen included my Flight Commander (who is now C.O. of the squadron) myself and another crew. The Flight Commander was to drop flares whilst we were carrying torpedoes.
For divers reasons it was some time before we were ready to take off. The F/Commander was supposed to take off about ten minutes before us but we were finally told that midnight was take off time and that we were to take off irrespective of whether he had taken off. He said that if by chance he took off after us he would catch us up. I took off more or less on time and set course for the south coast of Norway which was our datum point. I arrived there at 02.35 but could see no other aircraft or flares or anything else except the coast.
I stooged up and down the coast for fifteen minutes waiting for them to show up, expecting bags of German fighters all the time but nothing showed up. I was rather dubious as to what I should do so finally decided to search for the ship. Then for the next thirty minutes I stooged all around the Skaggerak (spelling's a bit ropey I think) close to the coast and finally had to give up the search. We set course for base. We arrived back at the base around 0.600 hours and although I knew I was more or less over the aerodrome I couldn't see the lights because of mist or fog. I contacted the aerodrome on R.T. and decided to fly out to sea for a few minutes, lose height and then come in towards the aerodrome low enough to see the lights.
About five minutes out the starboard engine cut and then started to burn. Well the engine cutting didn't worry me unduly but when it started to burn it shook me rigid. At that stage we were losing height fairly rapidly and were down to 300 feet, some of the instruments were gone too since they were run off the starboard engine. My God, the number of things you have to do at the same time would amaze you. Cut the starboard throttle, pull back the pitch lever, switch the ignition off, switch the petrol off, watch the height and airspeed, the attitude of the aircraft, find the appropriate fire extinguisher switch, switch over the instruments to "Venturi" (they then run off the slipstream), pump the bomb doors open, release the torpedo......Grim!!!
In the flap I had wandered well off my course and didn't quite know where the aerodrome was but Ian guided me towards it by means of the intercom. As soon as the torpedo was released things were much better and very slowly we gained height but I was afraid that the port engine might also give out because of the strain placed on it. It had been more or less fully open for about three of four minutes. However I contacted the aerodrome on R.T. and told them what had happened and they started shooting off rocket after rocket to indicate it's position. I went towards it and after about three minutes the vibration which had been pretty bad became excessive and I thought the aircraft would shake itself to pieces. We assumed later that it was caused by the airscrew blades which shot off in all directions as they burnt out at the hub.
When the last one had gone, however, the vibration stopped. Apparently it was a good thing that the airscrews did drop off and I found out later that a dead prop is worth 140 horsepower from the other engine. All this time the engine had been burning at the front but shortly after the prop dropped off there were a few explosions and then it stopped. By then we were nearly to the 'drome. We then went in and made a good landing on the runway.
Bags of panic on the aerodrome; cars coming from all directions, someone wanting to know in a loud voice why the bloody hell leave the kite so close to the runway. He then saw the starboard engine and swore incredulously. Ian and the rest of the crew were stroking the ground very affectionately with their feet. The Group Captain came out in his car and said "Good show, good show" and took us back to the Ops room. We finally got to bed at 08.30 in the morning having had eggs and bacon for breakfast.
Apparently our station, to say nothing of the Group, had been recalling us all night on W.T. but we didnŐt get the message. However a very good view was taken by all and sundry. On the whole, quite an instructive trip.
My left leg was quite sore the next day due to the pressure on the rudder for so long. It's quite considerable..."
Here's a link to the page