The mission that made men heroes

ON the evening of May 16, 1943 a squadron of 19 Lancaster bombers took off from RAF Scampton in Lincolnshire and climbed into the dusk sky. Each weighed down by a massive, barrel-shaped bomb, they barely cleared the perimeter fence at the end of the runway. Flying low across the North Sea to avoid detection, the bombers droned over the Dutch coast and into Germany. Their target: the great hydro electric dams of Germany's industrial heartland.

The Dambusters became heroes, their raid legendary. The theme from the 1955 film entered the national consciousness as a rousing, patriotic anthem still sung on football terraces. But just how important were the events of May 16 and 17?

From the early days of the war, the Air Ministry had considered the possibility of attacking the huge dams in the Ruhr Valley which powered the steel plants and munitions factories of the German war machine. It seemed like an impossible task. Experience had shown that narrow structures such as dams were extremely difficult to hit, as well as resistant to conventional bombing. Bomber Command needed something new.

The inspiration came from Barnes Wallis, Assistant Chief Designer of Vickers-Armstrong's aircraft division in Surrey. He knew it was crucial to get the explosive as close to the dam wall as possible to create maximum damage, but the dams were protected with underwater netting so torpedoes were out of the question. It was then he came up with the idea of a bouncing bomb, supposedly while skimming stones on his garden pond.

Code-named Upkeep, the bouncing bomb would not be easy to deliver. It had to be dropped from 60ft, by an aircraft flying at exactly 220mph, 425 yards from the dam wall. In addition, the aircraft would face enemy fire from machine guns and the raid would be at night. Only with precision flying of the highest calibre would it stand any chance of success.

In March 1943, Bomber Command created 617 Squadron, later known as the Dambusters. Led by the charismatic 24-year-old Wing Commander Guy Gibson, its members boasted an impressive array of citations. Based at RAF Scampton, they began extensive low flying exercises, using dummy bombs. Lancasters were designed to bomb from 20,000ft but the squadron started low flying sessions at 500ft, gradually dropping down to 60ft. They knew their mission was of huge importance but weren't told what their target was until just days before the raid, code-named Operation Chastise.

Gibson led the first wave of the attack and by 00.56 on May 17, the Mohne dam had been breached, followed by the Eder an hour later. The Sorpe dam was hit but remained intact.

Eight planes were lost that night and 53 airmen died. On the ground, flooding killed 1,300 civilians, including 500 forced labourers from the Ukraine, mostly women. Six electricity stations were put out of action and the rail service was disrupted but there was little long-term effect on industrial production. In 1943, steel production in Germany exceeded that of the previous year by 2.5 million tons.

But while the raid may not have had a lasting impact in Germany, it was of enormous importance back in Blitz-weary Britain, which had heard little good news since the British victory at El Alamein the previous summer. Newspaper reports and dramatic pictures of the breached dams did much to boost flagging public morale. Gibson became a national hero and was awarded the Victoria Cross. Thirty-three other members of the squadron were decorated for gallantry. The Dambusters became part of the British psyche, their memory lives on, even today, as symbols of bravery and heroism.

And those that time forget...

For three North-East families, the Dambusters' mission brought grief over lost sons and husbands. Bessie Robinson reports.

FLYING low into the teeth of the enemy with an experimental bomb on board, the odds were stacked against the Dambusters from the outset.

Navigator Tom 'Tucker' Jaye, aged 20, from Crook, County Durham, aboard ED-865 AJ-S, and gunner Sergeant Ronald Marsden, 23, from Redcar, on ED-910 AJ-C, were lost in the early hours of May 17, during the third and final wave of bombing on the Eder dam.

Fenham-born Sergeant Samuel Whillis had died the night before in the second wave, when his Lancaster ED-906 flew into heavy flak over Holland and Germany.

Rear gunner Sergeant Raymond Wilkinson, from County Durham, came back safely. So did Flight Sergeant Vivian Nicholson, 20, from Sherburn, near Durham and fellow crew member Pilot Officer John Fort, from York, although both were killed in action on September 15.

Tom Jaye's family were told he was missing the following day, but his death was not officially acknowledged until November 1946.

His miner father Jim and mother Lena never knew the true worth of his sacrifice, which did not come to light until years later.

Flying at less than 150ft, ED-865 had been diverted to attack the Lister dam and strayed slightly off course into a barrage of flak from the Luftwaffe-occupied Gilze Rijen Airfield, in Holland. Eye witnesses saw it caught like a moth in the glare of searchlights, burst into a 'fierce red spreading glow' and crash into airfield buildings, knocking out enemy radar.

Dorothy Jones, the widow of Tom's older half-brother Norman, says: "We only learned a lot later that the effect of knocking out the radar had a greater long-term impact on the war than hitting the dams."

Tom's cousin and great friend Alf Willoughby, who called the flyer "Titch" because of his height, had used a day's leave to see him at 617 Squadron's base RAF Scampton but the crews were locked away on secret training for their mission.

Tom's family was proud when he passed exams for Wolsingham Grammar School. But, despite his education, he couldn't find a job in Crook and, after working as a clerk at Howlish Hall, near Coundon, went south to Sudbury to test Royal Navy equipment.

In 1941 he volunteered for the RAF, but his lack of height ruled him out as a pilot. Undeterred, he sailed for America to train as a navigator in Miami, Florida, passing out with flying colours.

Alf Willoughby, from Howden-le-Wear, understood Tom's feelings on war better than anybody else. The pair had shared a heart-to-heart on Tom's final leave.

He says: "He didn't need to join up because he was in a reserved occupation but he volunteered.

"He told me he hated the bombing and he hated Guy Gibson, but he didn't tell me why. Gibson got everything. The lads who were on the flights hardly got recognised at all.

"I was proud to know Tom, we all were, but I wish he hadn't joined up. He was a great lad and it was an absolute waste."

Dorothy Jones adds: "None of the flyers liked the bombing because they knew they were hitting ordinary people on the ground who were just like themselves. But it didn't stop them joining up because they all wanted to go to war for their country."