newsletter 428 – may 2020 · newsletter 428 – may 2020 diary notes . next aeromodellers nsw...

Les Donovan’s “Beardmore Inflexible”. Read Les’ story regarding this interesting model on page 7.

Newsletter 428 – May 2020

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Contents Contents ....................................................................................................................................................... 2 Diary Notes ................................................................................................................................................... 3 Contacts ........................................................................................................................................................ 3 ANSW and MAAA Fees for 2020-21 ............................................................................................................. 4 Aeromodellers NSW Bi-Monthly Meeting and 2020 Annual General Meeting ........................................... 5 Aeromodellers NSW 2020 Calendar ............................................................................................................. 6 Club News & General Interest ...................................................................................................................... 8

The Beardmore Inflexible: An R/C Model ................................................................................................. 8 RAAF Black Cats ....................................................................................................................................... 11 “For You the War is Over”: A WWII Pilot Captured by Germans tells his Story ..................................... 12

Event Updates ............................................................................................................................................ 16 MDMAS Veterans’ Gathering – Postponed to 14-15 Nov ...................................................................... 16 Coffs Coast RC Flyers 4th Annual Fun Fly-In & Swap Meet – 5-7 June - Cancelled ................................. 17

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Diary Notes Next Aeromodellers NSW Bi-Monthly Management Committee Meeting, incorporating the 2020 AGM. Friday 12th June, 8:00pm Internet via ZOOM – instructions will be advised to Club Execs via bulletin. Following Aeromodellers NSW Bi-Monthly Management Committee Meeting. Friday 14th August 2019, 8:00pm Venue TBA Newsletter #429 (June 2020) deadline for submissions: Friday 19th June 2020.

Contacts President

Tim Nolan [email protected] 0412 173 440

Vice Pres

Vacant [email protected]

Secretary

Clive Weatherhead [email protected] c/o Battery Business Unit 14, 3 Vuko Place Warriewood NSW 2102

0404 826 880

Treasurer/ State Field Officer

Steve Norrie [email protected] 0418 874 740

Registrar

David Lewis [email protected] PO Box 7291, SOUTH PENRITH 2750

02 4736 2611 0439 264 220

Newsletter Editor

Rob Masters [email protected]

0418 160 295

Public Relations Officer and Webmaster

Aranka Nolan [email protected]

0419 540 104

CFI

George Atkinson [email protected] 0414 972 118

Deputy CFI North

Martin Cochrane [email protected] 02 6658 2364

Deputy CFI South

Brendan Tucker [email protected] 02 6931 1025

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ANSW and MAAA Fees for 2020-21 As you know, in light of the challenges that we have all had, including fires, fire bans, floods and then COVID 19, ANSW has offered current members a $15 Early Bird Discount on their fees, and I am very pleased to let you know that MAAA is also offering a $10 Early Bird Discount. In both cases, the discounts are available to anyone who has been a member during the 2019 to 2020 year and who has paid their 2020/21 fees and has been registered by 31st July 2020. So, the fees are as follows: Early Bird (available until 31 July 2020) ANSW Senior $30 Junior $0 MAAA Senior $80 Junior $35 Total Senior $110 (saving $25) Junior $35 (saving $10) We encourage all clubs to pass on this information to members so that everyone has the opportunity to claim the Early Bird Discount for their renewal. It is anticipated that renewals will open around the 1st June 2020. After the early bird period, and for new members, the ANSW and MAAA fees are: Full membership for the year ahead ANSW Senior $45 Junior $0 MAAA Senior $90 Junior $45 Total Senior $135 Junior $45 The situation seems to be improving every few days, and we hope that these discounts will help all our members get back to enjoying their flying in the coming months. Very best wishes. Tim Nolan President ANSW

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Aeromodellers NSW Bi-Monthly Meeting and 2020 Annual General Meeting

Friday 12th June 2020 7:30pm onwards

by Zoom video-conference As we will be unable to run the June meeting and annual general meeting at a physical venue, it will be run by Zoom conference instead and any Club may have someone attend by video-conference, assuming they each have access to a PC/Mac/Tablet with appropriate microphone, camera and reasonably fast internet. An invitation will be issued to Club committee representatives in the week prior to the meeting and if you have anything that you would like to raise, please let your Club President or Secretary know. Someone from Aeromodellers NSW will be online 30 minutes before the meeting starts to try and help anyone who is new to Zoom conferencing. If you need some assistance then there is a messaging system built into Zoom, but once you log in, we should be able to talk to you even if you are having microphone or camera difficulties and, purely as a matter of housekeeping, numbers on the Zoom call are limited so, although each Club can have 2 representatives on the call, it would help us if this was restricted to only 1 actual zoom call, if at all possible, particularly as there will be quite a few people who have not used this technology before. The meeting normally covers quite a lot of formal ground – correspondence in and out, reports from the various people on the committee on what they’ve been doing, financials, new wings awards around the state, then general and new business. This time, in an effort to keep things focused and given the challenges of video-conferencing, we will focus on items that need to be covered. This will include: • Opening, welcome, apologies. • Motion to accept the minutes of the April bi-monthly meeting. • Opening annual general meeting. • Motion to accept the minutes of the 21019 AGM and the audited accounts presented then. • Election of office bearers/committee. • Annual fees. • Other AGM business. • Return to bi-monthly meeting. • New gold wings awarded in the previous 2 months (for ratification). • A brief report from Tim Nolan on behalf of the wider committee including:

• Report from MAAA Presidents’ conference. • Land acquisition for state flying field in Hunter Valley.

• Financial report. • Any safety issues that have arisen in the last 2 months. • Question and answer session on Covid19 related issues. • Process and documentation for area approvals and event approvals. • Other new business that is raised for this meeting. Full minutes, including the additional matters that we won’t be covering, will be circulated in the newsletter shortly after the meeting, for all members to read. This isn’t as formal as our usual approach, but it does allow us to meet our obligations and move along as smoothly as possible given the world that we currently operate in. I hope that you understand, and please pass on the very best wishes of everyone at Aeromodellers NSW to your Club members. Clive Weatherhead Secretary – ANSW [email protected]


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Aeromodellers NSW 2020 Calendar (Compiled 31 May 2020)

Unless otherwise advised Aeromodellers NSW Meetings are held the 2nd Friday of every other Month.

Given the current uncertain times the events indicated thus (strikethrough) have at this stage been either cancelled or suspended

until further notice. All events for June and beyond will be reviewed as they approach. The nominated contact can provide further details.

June 2020 5-7 CCRCF Annual Fun Fly-in and swap meet Coffs Harbour Martin Cochran 0423 691 150 7 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366 12 Aeromodellers NSW General Mtg & ZOOM Tim Nolan 0412 173 440

Annual General Meeting To be broadcast via ZOOM – instructions will be advised to Club Execs via bulletin.

20-21 NSWPF Precision Aerobatics (RFC) Newcastle Alastair Bennetts 0439 480 793 21 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366 28 Pylon Racing at Marulan Marulan (TBC) Jeremy Randle 0418 390 446

July 2020

12 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366 18-19 NSWPF Precision Aerobatics (CVRCMAS) Camden Alastair Bennetts 0439 480 793 26 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366 26 Pylon Racing at Pitt Town Pitt Town Jeremy Randle 0418 390 446

August 2020

9 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366 14 Aeromodellers NSW General Mtg TBA Tim Nolan 0412 173 440 15-16TARMAC Scale Rally Tamworth Richard Exler 0438 314882 23 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366

September 2020

6 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366 12-13 NSWPF Precision Aerobatics (GDA) Gunnedah Alastair Bennetts 0439 480 793 20 Pylon Racing at Richmond Richmond Jeremy Randle 0418 390 446 20 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366

October 2020

3-4 WMAC Annual Scale Rally & Swap/Sell meet Wagga Wagga Tony McAtamney 0417294748 4 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366 9 Aeromodellers NSW General Mtg TBA Tim Nolan 0412 173 440 16-18 Warbirds Over Coffs Coffs Harbour Martin Cochrane 0423 691 150 17-18 NSWPF Precision Aerobatics (CKSMAC) Richmond/Pitt Town Alastair Bennetts 0439 480 793 25 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366

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November 2020 8 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366 11-15 Invitational Scale Classic Downunder 2020 Cootamundra Cheryl Rolfe [email protected] 14-15 MDMAS Veterans Gathering Muswellbrook Cory Eustace 0429 090 686 14-15 NSWPF State Champs (SMFC) Shoalhaven Alastair Bennetts 0439 480 793 22 Gosford City Float Planes Kariong Nic Lucas 0424 350366

December 2020

1 Pylon Racing at Marulan Marulan (TBC) Jeremy Randle 0418 390 446 11 Aeromodellers NSW General Mtg TBA Tim Nolan 0412 173 440


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Club News & General Interest The Beardmore Inflexible: An R/C Model

I was first alerted to the fact that this aircraft once existed by the late Don Costelloe. Don presented me with two articles from old Aeroplane Monthly magazines in which the Beardmore Inverness and Inflexible were described. Don was aware that I had a penchant for unusual aircraft, and I don’t think anyone would dispute that both of these flying machines would fall into that category. I’m still not sure if he gave me these articles for my information, or as a dare. Both of these aircraft were designed by Adolf Rohrbach at the behest of the British Air Ministry as an exercise to see if all-metal monoplanes were the way forward in large aircraft design for the United Kingdom. Rohrbach was the logical choice, as he was a pioneer in the construction of stressed-skin metal aircraft. In 1922 he founded Rohrbach Metall-Flugzeugbau, an aircraft factory located in Berlin, however under the terms of the Versailles Treaty, Germany was not allowed to export, or even manufacture, large aircraft. To overcome this problem he set up Rohrbach-Metal-Aeroplan Co. in Denmark, where the early Rohrbach aircraft were constructed. The Inverness was an all-metal, twin-engined, shoulder-winged, cantilever, monoplane flying boat of 94 feet (28.7 metres) wingspan. Two were built, one (N183) in the Danish Rohrbach factory from components manufactured in Berlin, and the second (N184) constructed by William Beardmore and Company, a Scottish engineering and shipbuilding corporation. Upon its completion in 1925, N183 was flown from Denmark to the Marine Aircraft Establishment at Felixstow. N183 proved to be a real dog. Handling both in the air and on water was poor, so it was no great loss when the aircraft was destroyed during airframe strength testing in 1927. The second prototype, despite some modifications, also demonstrated disappointing performance, resulting in the programme being cancelled, and the airframe’s subsequent scrapping in 1929. Perhaps I should

have taken notice of the fact that the full-size machines met their demise after such a short life.

The Inflexible (Serial Number J7557) was built in sections at Dalmuir between 1925 and 1927 and these were sent by sea to Felixstowe. From there they were delivered by road to the Aeroplane and Armament Experimental Establishment at Martlesham Heath Airfield where they were assembled, and the maiden flight took place on 5 March 1928. Later that year it featured in the Hendon RAF Display. The Inflexible was structurally advanced for its time and had fairly good flying qualities. It was also a very large aircraft for that era, having a wingspan of 157 feet (48 m) which was about 16 feet (4.9 m) greater than the Boeing B-29 Superfortress heavy bomber of World War II. However, the Inflexible weighed in at a hefty 37,000 lb (17,000 kg) and, not surprisingly, because of its greater- than-planned weight, was underpowered. With no interest shown in further production of this design, the aircraft was dismantled at Martlesham Heath in 1930, and was then used to investigate the effects of corrosion on light-alloy stressed skin aircraft structures. I elected to build the Inverness model first because, at that stage, my main interest was in flying boats. I must have created an excellent scale example of the Inverness because the model exhibited all the

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bad habits of the full-size machines. As it turns out, the two full size Rohrbach designs were also built in that order. The Inverness model was fitted with two OS 0.46, two-stroke, glow engines, and, although I had planned to use similar power plants in the Inflexible, I later decided to go electric instead. I could find no plans for either these models and so the Inverness, and subsequently the Inflexible, were both built from the small 3-views of the full-size machines and some photographs that were published with the Aeroplane Monthly articles. I did not draw up any plans, but just marked out the scaled-up dimensions directly on to the balsa and plywood. I commenced construction of the Inflexible soon after the maiden flight of the Inverness model. The Inflexible model was to be of 3.14 m wingspan and have a fuselage length of 1.56 m. I obediently followed the 3-view of the full-size Inflexible, which indicated approximately 5 or 6 degrees of incidence on the mainplane and 3, or so, on the horizontal stabiliser. When the mainplane centre section and the horizontal stabiliser were married to the model’s fuselage, I had grave doubts about how this would work in a model, and if it did, where the C of G should be. After the poor performance of the Inverness model, I decided that it was all too hard, and the partially built Inflexible was relegated to my workshop loft and left for the best part of 20 years. In mid-2019, while visiting the Science Museum in London, I saw the only remaining component of the Inflexible: one of its two 7ft 6in diameter main undercarriage wheels. This rekindled old memories, and that night, fired by alcohol and delusions of grandeur, I resolved to recommence work on the project. Once I returned home and dusted off the partially-built model, I realised why I had shelved the project all those years ago. But with firm resolve I hacked out the wing centre section with its two nacelles and then the horizontal stabiliser, almost destroying the fuselage in the process. A week or so later, after all the collateral damage had been repaired, I had re-fitted the mainplane centre

section at 2 degrees of incidence , corrected the incidence of the nacelles and attached the horizontal stabiliser at zero degrees: a process that was, to say the least, time consuming and tedious. Just when I was congratulating myself on my progress, I realised something did not look right. To my horror I discovered that, in my zeal to refit the wing centre section, I had introduced almost 2 degrees of twist. After another week or so of heroic surgery, the twist had been removed and the butchered areas of the fuselage and wing again repaired. By this time the fuselage looked like a patchwork quilt. I was concerned that the bare balsa would be somewhat brittle after two decades of storage, so I elected to sheath the entire airframe with 0.6 ounce glass cloth and a single coat of epoxy resin. This was lightly sanded, then over-coated with SCA Primer /Filler, applied with a foam-plastic mini-roller, and sanded again. Initially I had considered spraying the airframe with acrylic auto paint, but decided that, because there was still lots of detail to be added such as the oil-pump windmill, the windscreen and radiators, it was likely that I would be making numerous changes that could affect the surface finish. Instead, the model was airbrushed with Tamiya light sea grey flat acrylic, something that I thought could be easily touched-up if required. However, I soon realised that this paint was going to scuff pretty easily, and since fuel-proofing was not an issue, I over-spayed the model with a light coat of Micador satin picture varnish.

I assumed that a safe starting C of G would be at about 25% chord of the rectangular planform wing, but then realised that there would be very little

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distance between the undercarriage and a C of G at that position. Surely a recipe for taxiing nose-overs. I decided to do something that I have always been too lazy to do in the past, that is to calculate the theoretically correct safe C of G location. I used the formula quoted in Gordon Whitehead’s Radio Control Scale Aircraft for Everyday Flying. Basically, this sets the C of G at 1/6 of mean chord (where it would be for a tail-less model), but then adds a further aft dimension based on tailplane area, moment arm, and mainplane area. This indicated that the C of G should be at about 35%. I don’t know how this formula was derived, but the model seems quite happy with the position found. To achieve the indicated C of G, I had to add about 225 grams of lead to the centre motor’s bay. This brought the all-up weight, including all batteries, to 7.16 Kg and necessitated the appropriate MOP inspection and certification.

The full-size machine’s wing had a central box-girder section for strength with bottom-hinged leading and trailing edges that were locked in place by hundreds of latches on the mainplane’s upper surface. I had originally decided I would not attempt to simulate the latches, but later thought their absence detracted from the scale appearance of the model. After much deliberation, I decided that Dubro T-pins pressed into the wing skin would be a convincing-enough representation. I can’t remember why, but I did not build in wash-out when constructing the wing. Maybe I thought I could do this when the ailerons were cut out and

the false trailing edges were being installed. As it turned out, when I later got back into working on the model, the leading edge sheeting prevented me from inducing any wash-out. So how does the model fly? Like all models it has its own characteristics. It cruises comfortably with mid-stick throttle setting with the three Turnigy G25 electric motors, Master Airscrew Electric Only 11 x 7 propellers and a 4S, 2700mAh LiPo for each motor. On the second flight, on a day typified by random gusts of wind, I encountered wind-shear while performing a down-wind turn at distance. The model tip-stalled but fortunately recovered quickly, probably helped by relatively light weight for its size. Airspeed was hard to judge at that distance and orientation, so I now throttle-up a little in such situations to avoid tip-stalling in case airspeed is lower than it might seem. I took the model to the 2020 Banjo Paterson Scale Rally in Orange, but at that stage I only had three flights with it under my belt and so elected not to fly it in the windy conditions that prevailed. Landing the model, particularly in gusty conditions, was so reminiscent of the undignified bouncing of the full-size machine that is shown so graphically in YouTube footage. Some weeks after Orange, following advice from Al Zuger, I programmed-in negative flaperon using a 3-position switch on the transmitter. Full negative flaperon not only helped the model stick after touch-down but, at the half-setting, the reflex effectively provides wash-out for safety on down-wind and base legs when landing. I have so far avoided cross-wind landings, but I suspect that, with a high aspect ratio wing of three-plus metres span and 6 degrees of dihedral, it would be a real handful. After putting together a number of semi-scale ARFs in recent years, I must say I really enjoyed the experience of building a model of this unique aircraft from scratch and making it fly. I do hope you found these ramblings of interest and an incentive to build an obscure scale modelling subject like the Inflexible. Les Donovan AUS 17528.

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RAAF Black Cats By Robert Cleworth and John Sutton Linton

I was motivated to write this article after reading “RAAF Black Cats” by Robert Cleworth and John Sutter Linton. In fact I was so impressed that I have actually read it 3 times – Phil Hannaford (Appin Sports Aeromodellers Club).

Most of us are aware that the Catalina in WW11 was used for search and rescue, light bombing raids, and reconnaissance but little was known about their precision mine laying activities. Catalina crew and ground staff were sworn to secrecy which, usually, was revoked after 30 years but was never lifted because “they were strategies which may be needed again” so 60 years later, the brave men who worked on and manned the Cats were never given due recognition for their bravery. In March 1945 Reg Cleworth, a navigator on PBY Catalina A24-203 went missing in action and 40 years later Robert, his younger brother decided to investigate. Robert went to the USA to research and found very little until a chance meeting with a chap on a bus, who gave him access to boxes of material, complete with chip packets and other food wrappers direct from South West Pacific operational area (SWPA) and untouched after all those years on the proviso that

he would catalogue the contents. From this material and Reg’s personal correspondence, Robert was able to piece together a remarkably comprehensive history of events. The Black Cats were remarkably effective in accurately laying and mapping their mining operations and were responsible for 40% of Japanese shipping destroyed in the SWPA. B29 Superfortresses could have been used but they would have been dropping mines from such a great height that precision and mapping was out of the question. In addition mining: · Disrupted and delayed shipping · Caused the Japanese time wasted in mine

sweeping. · Subjected Japanese shipping to submarine attack

in the salvaging operation. · Forced vessels away from shallow water thus

exposing shipping to submarine attack · Closed harbours, either locking shipping in or out,

thus exposing shipping to attack from air or sea. · Disrupted and deprived the enemy war machine

of food, fuel and ammunition. The Cats, operating at night and painted matte black, would pick up a previously reccied point such as a mountain or island and strike a heading. The navigator would count off time in seconds and at a hundred feet drop their mines whilst often having flack pouring towards them. Accuracy was paramount. Australian Cats were lightened by removing the heavy steel amour plating protecting pilot and Navigator and self-sealing in the fuel tanks just so that more fuel could be taken to increase range. It was not uncommon for 22 to 24 hour sorties to be undertaken. In fact there did exist the “twin sun rise club”. Consolidated (the manufacturer of Catalinas) in America refused to supply Cats lightened, so they had to be done either at Lake Boga in Vic. or Rathmines at Lake Macquarie. The book outlines quite a number of exciting sorties and incidents which men were extremely lucky to walk away from and of course, some didn’t. Incidentally, there is a Catalina museum at Lake Boga in Vic., along the Murray River.

“For You the War is Over”: A WWII Pilot Captured by Germans tells his Story

Richard A. Gray https://www.historynet.com/downed-wwii-pilot-tells-story-of-being-captured-by-germans.htm By January 14, 1945, I had been in England with the U.S. Eighth Air Force for more than seven months, piloting a B-24 heavy bomber. I had completed 35 bombing missions over

France and Germany—at that time, a tour of duty—and was set to return to the States for a 30-day furlough. I wrote to my fiancée, Betty Sue Nunn, that for me the war was over and I was coming home to Pittsburgh for the wedding we had planned. In the meantime, I learned that if I took a second tour without returning to the States, the tour requirement would be cut in half and I could then expect a permanent stateside assignment. The decision became easier when I was offered the chance to join a P-51 fighter squadron. The Mustang - the best single-engine propeller aircraft of all time—was every

P-51 Mustangs of the 354th Fighter Squadron, 355th Fighter Group, fly in formation over East Anglia, England. First Lieutenant Richard A. Gray joined

the unit late in the war. (Roger Freeman Collection, FRE 605) pilot’s dream. I carefully prepared a follow-up letter to Betts and my parents explaining that I had elected to stay in Europe, and arrived at my new station at Steeple Morden Airfield near Cambridge. First Lieutenant R. A. Gray reporting for duty. During the next several weeks, I flew nearly every day, practicing landing, formation, and getting some gunnery

practice. Several bomber escort missions over Germany followed. Then came April 4, 1945

Airmen relax in a sun-drenched barracks at Steeple Morden Airfield, home of the 355th Fighter Group. For Gray, flying a Mustang was “every pilot’s

dream.” (Courtesy of Jeffrey Ethell) Like the others, this mission was in escort of heavy bombers. We climbed out over the Channel and proceeded toward Germany. My flight dropped down to observe one of the bombers’ targets: an airfield about 100 miles north of Berlin. We circled at low altitude. As we completed the first pass, 20mm guns mounted in flak towers surrounding the field began firing on us. Since my plane was on the inside of the circle, I became the principal target. My immediate reaction was to make a diving pass across the field to spray some .50-caliber bullets toward one of the towers. As I made my pass, about 20 feet above the runway, I saw several Heinkel 111 bombers off to the side and, in my anxiety to score victories, forgot the tower. That was a big mistake.

Having crashed on takeoff, a P-51 lies crippled near the Steeple Morden runway. Gray’s Mustang went down in much more dangerous territory,

northwest of Berlin. (Roger Freeman Collection, FRE 2935) All of a sudden everything went black: oil was pouring from my engine onto the windshield. Once I had gained a little altitude, I saw that about three feet of my left wing had been shot away. I decided to stay at low altitude, search for a clear

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spot to crash-land, and take the consequences. Reacting instinctively, I redirected toward a clearing and tipped up vertically to slip between bordering trees. Because most of our training was done with a left-hand landing pattern, I instinctively dropped the left wing. That, too, was a mistake: with the missing tip, the wing didn’t have normal lift, and I speculate that I slid vertically and caught it on the nearest trees. I’m forced to speculate, for I have no memory of what happened then or what I did. My first memory is of coming awake curled in the foetal position under some shrubbery, my pistol clutched in my arms. My head and right leg hurt like hell, my shirt was soaked with blood, and my vision was blurred and faint. I started walking through the woods, but my strength was ebbing rapidly; after only about 1,000 yards, I lay down again. When I reawakened, I found my vision had cleared up, but I had no sight in my right eye. My nose had several broken bones, and there was a large laceration in the middle of my forehead and possibly a splintered bone in my right leg. I resumed walking until I came upon a dirt road. I furtively looked out and saw a horse-drawn wagon approaching me. I can only guess what I must have looked like to this farmer and his son as I stood there, bloodied in my U.S. uniform, my .45-caliber automatic pistol in clear view. By my gestures, they understood that I did not mean to harm them. They helped me onto the wagon and drove me to their farm a short way down the road. The farmer and son went into the house and a few moments later came out accompanied by the farmer’s wife. The son trotted off down the road and the wife approached me with a glass of water and a white shirt that she tore into strips for bandages. I still had my gun. Our general instructions were to protect ourselves from civilians and give ourselves up to the military. This was on the supposition that most of the German military—like ourselves—had had enough fighting, whereas civilians had only thoughts of revenge for the loss of their families and possessions at the hands of Allied airmen. But there was nothing but concern for me being shown by this family, so I drank some water, then dampened a strip of cloth and began wiping the blood from my face and leg. The woman helped me bandage my head and the bridge of my nose. We tried to converse, but lacked any ability to do so in each other’s language. In perhaps an hour, the son returned with a Luftwaffe soldier wheeling a bicycle. The soldier—a corporal, I think—also spoke no English; he motioned for me to get up on the seat, which I did, and he started pushing me down the lane. We went for perhaps 10 or 15 minutes and stopped to rest. He lit cigarettes for both of us. We continued on this way for the next hour, pushing and resting. After the second rest stop, I decided I was reasonably safe and gave him my gun and ammo clips. He seemed relieved and smiled at me pleasantly. We finally reached an air base—the one I had strafed. Several officers and enlisted men came to interrogate me. Their first statement was: “For you the war is over.” Funny, but that was

what I had written Betts after my first tour was finished. For about the next hour, they questioned me. I continued to respond with my name, rank, and serial number. Then I got quite a surprise when they pulled out a map of Steeple Morden Airfield. They recited my squadron number, group number, and showed where my plane was parked. They named my group commander, squadron commander, operations officer, and even my supply officer. I must have shown no recognition of that last man for they quickly responded, “You probably don’t know him since he is very new.” I lay dozing the next morning when the corporal came in with another soldier who spoke a little English. He told me it was his duty to take me to a prison camp. I made eating motions and he understood, so we first went to the mess hall. I followed him down the chow line and was served just like the rest of the troops. Well, almost. When the cook looked up at me standing in line with my leather jacket emblazoned with an American flag, he scowled and scooped some of the hash browns back off my plate. The corporal and I then boarded a truck and drove several hours to a second air base where I was handed over to another Luftwaffe soldier. This new guard and companion spoke a few words of English and French. He took me to his room in the barracks, which he shared with another soldier. He brought in chairs and put them together to make a bed. In the middle of the night my guard’s roommate awakened me, “shushing” me to keep me from disturbing the guard. I envisioned a firing squad at midnight and other scenes from the movies. In fact, my guard’s roommate was going on guard duty and he was offering me his bed for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, my story was also being written in the United States. My first full day as a POW—April 5, 1945—was also the day my mother had arranged to meet Betts in downtown Pittsburgh to pick out an engagement ring. I had won a few dollars in a poker game and sent money home with instructions to formalize the engagement with a ring. My father, averring that he had had a premonition that they would hear from me that day, had gone home to await the mailman. Lo and behold, when the mail came, it contained a telegram informing my parents I was missing in action. Dad phoned Betts’s mother and then waited at home to give my mother the news all mothers dreaded. The next day, April 6, my guard, rifle in hand, escorted me by jeep to the nearby railway station. The platform was jammed with travellers; my guard herded me among the hundreds of civilians and, by command, forced people to make room for us. As the train rumbled toward Berlin, he sat in the seat opposite me with his rifle between his knees. At one point he leaned forward and pushed the rifle toward me until I reached out for it. Then he smiled slightly, leaned back against the seat rest, and promptly fell asleep. We finished the trip to Berlin with me holding the rifle. I can only presume he didn’t want me assaulted by civilians.

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Detraining in Berlin, I was reminded of Grand Central Station in New York. Loads of people, lots of tracks, much confusion. We walked to our destination, a Luftwaffe hospital, where I was taken to a ward on the top floor to join two English and seven other captured American airmen. That night, I had my first taste of an air raid from the bottom looking up. The Royal Air Force rained down on Berlin, as they were doing regularly by then. We lay on our beds in the darkness and, like all the rest, I prayed. I knew from experience that the RAF had no chance of seeing the painted red cross on the roof at night, but the hospital survived. The next day, an eye surgeon gave me an exam. With a mixture of English and French, he explained that when I broke the bones in my nose, the blood flowed into my right eye and was obstructing the optic nerve. The doctor declared there was nothing he could do since the eye was still filled with blood. As a parting remark, perhaps to give me hope, he said, “maybe after the blood dissolves or is absorbed, the optic nerve may respond again.” Then followed two more nights of RAF bombings. I spent the day in between talking to my ward mates. We blessed the Lord for our survival, cursed ourselves for the predicament we were in, and pondered the big question: “What is going to happen to us next?” The next afternoon, a young German woman came into the ward and asked for Oberleutnant Gray. She was the doctor’s nurse; he had told her about me and this was her day off. British tourists had often visited her hometown and she had learned English while growing up. She presented me with a batch of cookies she had baked. She had also brought her guitar and spent the next several hours playing and singing songs in English. I have often thought the military personnel were trying to be nice to the prisoners to establish a good record in the event of war tribunals. I cannot, however, find anything but humanitarian reasons for her actions. I need to digress here to report what was going on stateside. Although there had been no news of my happenstance, things were proceeding as I had requested. The engagement ring Betts had chosen was ready. My dad did the honors: with tears in his eyes, he formally made my proposal of marriage to Betts. Back in Berlin, an English-speaking intern informed me that I was to be moved to a prisoner-of-war camp. So, the next day, under single guard, I began another journey. A prison truck delivered my guard and me about 30 miles south, to Stalag III-A—my new home for some unknown time. On the way to the camp lazarett—the military hospital—I walked past the barbed-wire enclosures separating several sections of the camp. Many of the prisoners shouted words of encouragement. Some asked how the war was going and where I was from. One American came up to the wire and handed me a pack of cigarettes.

My new home consisted of a wooden barracks housing about 16 prisoners in a room with double bunks and a small table. There were people from many of the Allied forces: Americans, British, Czechs, Serbs, French, and Poles—with those British captured at Dunkirk in 1940 having the longest internment. The next day, the lazarett doctor examined me. He was a Serb and before his capture had been the personal physician of King Peter II of Yugoslavia. He told me there was nothing he could do for my eye, but unless my nose received some attention I would have sinus trouble the rest of my life. He took one of those mirrored gadgets doctors wear on their foreheads and jury-rigged it to press my nose bones into position so there would be an open passage for breathing. The next step to ensure good airflow was to carve open a good passageway. You’re right: this wasn’t easy. He used a scalpel and, without anesthesia, scraped on the collapsed bone inside my nose. Believe it or not, just like the TV series Hogan’s Heroes, the camp’s main section had a clandestine radio where prisoners obtained information on Allied activities. Several longtime prisoners in important positions, my Serbian doctor included, also got passes to go into the local town once a week, presumably to locate supplies. From these two sources, we knew the Allied troops were close and that we should await their arrival. Several days later, we heard gunfire from tanks and machine pistols. The noises sounded nearby but subsided as the day drew to a close. The next morning, April 22, we awoke to find that the German guards—all of them—had disappeared. The gunfire resumed and approached the camp. With a burst of razzle-dazzle, tanks and armored cars came down the road and penetrated the camp through the gates and fences. Our liberators had arrived. The half-tracks hailed from General Motors, but the tanks were Russian and so were the markings. Yessir; we had been rescued by the Russians. The mechanized forces, finding the camp devoid of Germans, continued westward. That afternoon, a Russian woman soldier came to the lazarett to give us orders. She informed us that the Russians lived off the land and we would be expected to do the same. A truck would be provided and the lazarett patients would be expected to man it and scrounge the countryside for food. At one point in the next two weeks, a convoy of American ambulances appeared on the road outside of the gate. They were there for several hours and then turned around and left. We later learned that the Russians had refused to let them take us from the hospital and that they would release us only in exchange for an equal or greater number of Russian prisoners. This shed new light on our situation. We feared that we might be taken to Russia or at least held until an exchange could be arranged, so we devised an escape plan. We learned that the American forces had advanced across the Elbe River and met up with the Russians advancing from

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the east. They both had agreed to make the Elbe a demarcation line; the Americans then fell back to the Elbe but the Russians never moved up, leaving a “no man’s land” in between. Several days later, our plans were in place: all the ambulatory patients—about 23 of us—crawled under a tarp in the back of our truck and set off as if on a foraging trip. Once out the gate we turned west rather than east, as we were supposed to do. The gate guard fired a few rifle shots as we raced away—to freedom we hoped. We drove unmolested; the surrounding quiet amazed us. We encountered a gaggle of German soldiers who raised their arms in surrender. We refused to take them prisoner but did collect some souvenirs: I got a German “baby” Mauser. We continued on until we reached the Elbe, about 40 miles from the prison. As we crossed the bridge the first American soldier I saw, amazingly, was Bill Donkin, who had graduated one year behind me at Wilkinsburg High School, east of Pittsburgh. What a small world! The next four days—May 7-10—were a blur of transit, camps, and delousing showers. During that time, the war had ended—though we didn’t know that through any big announcement, but through a gradual awareness that something had changed. On we went, traveling this time on a hospital train to Camp Lucky Strike at Saint Valery, France. We were told that we would quickly be on a ship sailing back to the good old USA. I wrote a V-mail to Betts and my family: I’m alive. I’m O.K. For me the war is over, and I’m on the way home to get married. On May 26, we finally boarded the SS Argentina at Le Havre, France. The first stop was Southampton, England, where we unloaded British Red Cross girls and loaded on more wounded vets—not a popular exchange. We had hardly gotten started when one of the three ships in our convoy had an engine failure. The rules of the convoy are that you must stick together, so we all limped along at half speed. Thirteen days after we left Le Havre, we pulled into Boston Harbor. The good thing about the long trip was that with the shipboard food, prepared especially for ex-prisoners, I gained about 10 pounds and felt nearly normal. The first thing they told us in Boston was, “The bank of pay phones are free. All charges are being picked up by the government.” After a long wait, I got my turn, and—would you believe—no one was home at my residence. Betts wasn’t home either. Her mother was, however, and she told me they had not received my V-mail letter and still presumed me missing in action. The following day I got through to my parents who, having heard the news from Betts’s mother, were excitedly awaiting my call. On the train ride home to Pittsburgh the next day, I was filled with trepidation. I didn’t look my best. Dressed in a plain GI uniform, I wasn’t the suave pilot they had last seen. My broken nose had changed my appearance, I had only one good eye, and I walked with a slight limp from my leg injury.

Would Betts still want to marry me? How would my partial loss of sight affect what I could do or should do? I got off the train and trudged down the platform, using a barracks bag to conceal my limp as I saw Mother, Dad, and Betts waiting for me. We joyously hugged and kissed one another and then proceeded to Dad’s car. We drove home in near silence. Perhaps we were each waiting for the other to break the ice. The next several weeks were a whirlwind of visits by aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends. Planning a wedding became the first order of business. Yes—I told Betts of my eye injury and asked if she still wanted to marry me. With a positive answer, I rounded up a dress uniform from her brother, who would be my best man. The wedding date was set. On June 27, 1945, at 7:45 in the evening, Lieutenant R. A. Gray married Betty Sue Nunn. And now, decades later, I can truthfully say they lived happily ever after.

At long last—and in a borrowed dress uniform—Dick Gray married Betts (here with their maid of honor) on June 27, 1945. (Courtesy of the Gray

Family) I would be remiss, however, if I ended without touching on my reason for writing this at all. Many times I have wished I could go back to thank all those who helped me: the farmer, his wife, and son; the soldier who pushed the bike, and the one who made me a bed; my guard who saw that I was protected on the train; the German doctor in Berlin who examined me, and his nurse who gave up her day off to cheer me up; the Serbian doctor who treated me; the many soldiers of the German and Allied forces who gave me a kind word and genuine concern. Since I can’t find all these people to directly express my gratitude, perhaps this story will provide the remembrance they deserve. After the war, Dick Gray returned to Lehigh University in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, to complete the mechanical engineering degree he had begun before enlisting. He graduated in June 1948 and worked in the electronics industry until his retirement in 1982. He and Betts eventually settled in Orange City, Florida. Betts died in September 2006; Dick died in September 2018. He was 94.

Event Updates

MDMAS Veterans’ Gathering – Postponed to 14-15 Nov

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Coffs Coast RC Flyers 4th Annual Fun Fly-In & Swap Meet – 5-7 June - Cancelled

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Deadline for submissions to Newsletter #429 (June 2020) is

Friday 19th June 2020.

Please forward any changes of mail or email address together with your AUS Number directly to the Registrar.

[email protected]


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