The fate of Nielsen’s Nuthouse

IN the shell of what was the control tower, on the sort of clear and moonlit night that made them sitting ducks for the Germans, they remembered Christopher Panton last Friday.

Pilot Officer Panton was only 19, a flight engineer with Bomber Command, when the Halifax in which he served was shot down in the raid over Nuremberg, March 30, 1944. He had left RAF Skipton-in-Swale, between the A1 and Thirsk in North Yorkshire, at 9.48pm.

At that moment, on the first floor of the ruined watchtower, they again read the exhortation: We will remember them.

Harold and Frank Panton, his younger brothers, had for decades made the pilgrimage from their Lincolnshire farms – and the aviation heritage centre that also salutes their brother – on the night of March 30.

In 1993 they fell into conversation with Darlington man Peter Rafferty, a visitor to the centre, who suggested they do something more formal – a tribute not just to Christopher but to the crew of HX272 and to the 55,573 men of Bomber Command, every one a volunteer, who gave their lives during the Second World War.

It is thus surprising that not only did they never receive campaign medals but that it has taken 65 years to establish a national memorial to them. It will be unveiled in Green Park, London, on June 28 after a campaign fronted by the actor Sir David Jason and by Robin Gibb, the Bee Gees singer.

Surprising? “Well, extraordinary, really,” said Harold Panton, gently.

“It really hasn’t been good enough, little wonder that they seemed to have been forgotten.”

He recalled, too, the brother – nine years his senior – who flew his final sortie from Skipton-on-Swale.

“He was always so energetic, always so keen to play games with us.

I still have some of the scores; I’m sure he let us win.”

He remembered, too the weeks and months after his death over Germany.

“I’d convinced myself that if I could run to the old elm tree in fewer than ten seconds that Christopher would come home.

“I did it in under ten seconds every time. Christopher still never came home.”

BUILT in 1942 by George Wimpey, RAF Skipton-on-Swale had been agricultural land and had three runways, the longest 1,900ft. The first squadron from the Royal Canadian Air Force arrived in 1942 before the base was even complete and moved to Goosepool – now Teesside Airport – at the start of 1943.

“It was a very active station,” recalled Alan Charlton, a former RAF national serviceman. “Very little happened in Bomber Command without Skipton being involved.”

433 Squadron, with which Pilot Officer Panton flew, was formed in September 1943 – the 14th and last of the Canadian bomber squadrons.

The average crew age was only 22.

A total 98 aircraft were lost from the station, one in August 1944 when a crippled plane returning from a raid crashed into a house in the village, killing its crew and fiveyear- old local lad Kenneth Battensby.

A memorial was unveiled in 1982.

The night of March 30, 1944, was planned as a major raid on Nuremberg.

For the crew of HX272 – nicknamed Nielsen’s Nuthouse after Christian Nielsen, the Canadian pilot – it was to be their 30th sortie, after which they could expect to be stood down for a while. Fewer than one man in four even reached 30.

The weather forecast was for overcast conditions; not for the first time, they got it wrong. The exercise went ahead, nonetheless – to prove the costliest night raid of the war.

Eight hundred planes headed for Germany, the formation 64 miles long. The enemy quite literally saw them coming.

“Those at the rear were a particularly good target,” said Peter Ratcliffe.

Almost 100 aircraft failed to return, 665 crew were lost – 11.9 per cent of the total. The losses that one March night were heavier than in the whole Battle of Britain, forcing Sir Arthur Harris – Bpomber Harris – to consider admitting defeat.

“Fortunately for us all,” said Peter, “he didn’t.”

Five of the crew of Nielsen’s Nuthouse were killed when it was shot down, the other three taken prisoner.

Christopher was buried in Germany, his brothers forbidden for 30 years to visit his grave because their father said he wanted nothing more to do with the war.

They opened their aviation centre in 1988, its star attraction an Avro Lancaster – called Just Jane, after the cartoon strip temptress – that, chiefly for insurance reasons, is allowed only to taxi down the runway.

Alan Charlton recalled a former squadron leader’s frustration at the controls. “He just wanted to open her up, to get out the skies. Sadly, it is strictly forbidden.”

SKIPTON-on-Swale flew its last mission over Germany on April 25, 1945, and was returned to agriculture in 1946, the site now farmed by Maurice Sanderson, among those present last Friday.

Only the control tower remains, torchlight picking out graffiti – “For your tomorrow, we gave our today” – picking out wreaths, picking out a little cross on which the names and photograph of a lost crew of seven are inscribed.

Maybe 30 are present, many recruited by Peter Ratcliffe from the Darlington area. There are standard bearers from the Bomber Command Association – “Strike hard, strike sure” – a bugler to sound the Last Post, straight-backed veterans whose heels still click as they salute and whose medals still gleam in the light from a few lamps.

In the silence between Last Post and Reveille, a plane can be heard overheard, its purpose now wholly peaceful.

There are new wreaths, a short address by RAF padre the Reverend Neil Galloway, a message from Sir David Jason. “The bravery and commitment given by all the crews during the Second World War is truly remarkable.

I hope that in the silence and solemnity of tonight’s occasion, their lives are a beacon once again.”

Harold’s grateful for the turn-out, glad that his beloved brother is still remembered almost 70 years after his death. “This is such an important place, the last place he ever really saw,” he says. “We’re very proud of Chris and of the whole of Bomber Command. It’s good to stop and think and to be thankful.”