2015 Bomber Command reflections speech

4 mins read
Mr Keith Campbell

I am standing in for Ross Pearson OAM (Ret'd), who is in hospital.

We’ve come a long way as a Foundation of our original concept launched by Ross Pearson on the initiative of Wing Commander, Rollo Kingsford Smith, and a body of enthusiastic veterans. We now have additional functions in Queensland, Victoria and South Australia and, although temporarily postponed, in New South Wales. Western Australia (for local reasons) have always held their function on a different date.

The idea caught on and we encouraged observances in the United Kingdom, Canada and New Zealand. We have ensured that our comrades who perished and those who have survived, in whatever category, have the appropriate tribute.

We must never forget the role of the Ground Staff, including many categories, and of course, the WAAFS. Let me illustrate this by several snippets which exemplify their contribution and comradeship.

The WAAFS in the Parachute Room who, on issue of the parachute, said “If it doesn’t open, bring it back and we’ll issue a new one.”

The Ground Staff who ensured that our machines were well maintained, and the Armourers who loaded the bombs.

The WAAF drivers who drove us to our planes and waited up to at least eight hours or so for our return.

And the Pilots, the captain of the aircraft, the Navigators whose skill ensured you arrived at the target at the correct time. The Bombaimer whose skill, lying on his stomach over the target, ensured an accurate drop and uttered the magic words,
“Bomb’s Gone. Now continue straight and level for the photo”. The longest 10 seconds you will ever experience.

The Air Gunners who sat in their turrets, a lonely experience, yet their keen eyes and quick action were the insurance of a safe return.

Let’s also not forget the Flight Engineer, who kept those wonderful four engines performing sweetly, as well as keeping a hawk-eye on the fuel.

Last, but not least, the wireless operators, who crouched over their wireless set to relay last-minute instructions from Base; a bombing wind, a change in the weather ahead, or perhaps a recall to Base.

Now let me take you through a couple of incidents that I recall vividly, to show just what participating on an operation meant.

Over the target, the Master Bomber would give his instructions, transmitting these by Radio Telephone with his Wireless Operator making a simultaneous transmission on his radio set to ensure the message was received. This was a dicey job and one for which the Pathfinders could claim their worthy recognition.

On one of my missions, our Wireless Operator received a message from the Master Bomber.

“Goodbye, chaps, we’re going in… We have been hit by flak…”

The set was left on, so we could hear their voices as they went down to their death. Seeing a plane coned by searchlights, and being the target for predicted flak which was usually fatal for the aircraft and crew.

We must ensure that when we of the Old Brigade pass on, those of the younger generation are all aware of just what their serving parents contributed to the Nation’s history. Now is the time to get to know what the nature was of the contribution of these participants.
I kept a diary of my personal experience, and I was able to pass on information to my family. The entries were a story of my experiences in the RAAF.

From joining up in May ’42 – from ITS – then by ship to Canada for training. On the way, the ship called at Pearl Harbour where we saw the devastation caused by the Japanese attack of December 1941. It no longer seemed an adventure – this was for real.

Canada – months of training, then wings parade when we received our brevet and proudly sewed it on our tunic – or if you had a girlfriend, she got the job.

Then by ship, across the Atlantic Ocean, dodging the submarine and landing safely in England. A country at total war; blackout, rationing… More extensive training, and finally being posted to an Operation. This was now for real.

Operations over enemy territory followed until I was shot down on my 34th trip – two years as POW, then back to England and home by ship to meet my parents – then, back to civvy street. No ticker-tape parade, just a new suit and hat and best wishes.

Maybe you can pass on the same to others. Pass the torch on to others. Make sure that their name lives for evermore. Record the history of this nation’s heroes and heroines.

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