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June 1, 2006 – Trip to Germany and Wales by Jim McPhee and Todd McMaster

When I returned from World War II, and was discharged in November 1945, I tried to turn my back on the terrible experiences that I had in the last six months of hostilities while a prisoner of war in Germany. Early in 1946, I immersed myself in educating myself and getting on with my life, finding it very hard to talk about the things that I had been through. With the thousands of veterans coming back to Canada, with a million stories, I think that most of them felt the same way, and as my story went, it was not nearly as grim as many. When people asked, I would tell them about specifics, but did not have the desire to write a book or elaborate. About the late 1980's or early 1990's, the veterans started to get together, form associations, and share their war experiences. I was persuaded to go to some of these meetings, listened to the stories, told some of my own and found a great comfort in revealing some of the things that had bothered me. Some feelings of anger and regrets, I found were not peculiar to me, and I felt better.

Making Connections - John Clark, son of Sgt H.E.Clark

In February 2005, I was contacted by a John Clark through the medical alumnae association, who had traced me through the internet and other records, and thought that I was with his father when he was killed on a bombing raid on Castrop-Rauxel, Germany, on November 21, 1944. All that he knew about his father was what his mother had told him about his father’s death, and that he was buried, first in a cemetery in Dusseldorf, Germany, then, after the war, was exhumed and buried at a British Commonwealth cemetery at Kleve, Germany, near the border of Germany and Holland. His mother did not discuss anything about his father, and he was very anxious to have some details about his father and the events of his death. As a result, John Clark came to Barrie and spent three days with us and I shared with him my memories of his father, and the documents that I had concerning our time together as aircrew on a Halifax bomber, flying out of Linton-on-Ouse, located about eight miles north west of the city of York.. John is a surgeon, retired, living in Prestatyn, Wales.

Making Connections - Thomas Boller and Hanna Eggerath, the Engine

In early March, 2006, I received a letter in the mail from Thomas Boller who lives in Dusseldorf, Germany, informing me that he had seen an aircraft motor, which he had been studying for a couple of years. He was shown this artifact by a lady, Hanna Eggerath, who had been aware of it for a some  years. Together they had researched the origin of this motor, and had discovered that it was from a Halifax bomber, shot down on November 21, 1944. Further, they had traced the crew through cemetery records, the internet, and other researchers, and found that I was the only living survivor of the crew. He very diplomatically and politely asked how I felt about Germans and Germany, and if I would be willing to share my story with them. I assured him that I had no animosity to his country or Germans. After many letters and sharing of information, I decided to go to Germany to re-visit the scenes of that tragic night, and Todd, my grandson, expressed a great desire to accompany me. We decided to go and made arrangements with Thomas and John for accommodation and activities while in Germany and Wales. Thomas Boller and Hanna Eggerath are part time historians in Dusseldorf.

Dedication Ceremony for Halifax NA337/ 2P-X at the RCAF Museum, Trenton, Ontario November 6th, 2005

This bomber was once 750 ft underwater, in Norway, for over 50 years. The meticulous restoration work is a fitting tribute to those aircrews who flew in Halifaxes and the ground crews whose dedication kept them in the air. Below is an image of Jim McPhee attending the dedication ceremony, and a photo of Halifax NA337 in the background.

Jim McPhee at the dedication ceremony of NA 337 the world's only restored Halifax bomber nov 6, 2005

The Dedication Ceremony, Nov. 6, 2005, RCAF Museum, Trenton, Ontario. Image courtesy of Jim McPhee.

Halifax NA 337 at the official dedication ceremony

The Dedication Ceremony, Nov. 6, 2005, RCAF Museum, Trenton, Ontario. Image courtesy of http://www.airforcemuseum.ca, the official dedication ceremony

Halifax NA337 at Trenton Ontario RCAF Museum

Halifax NA 337 at the Dedication ceremony, RCAF Museum, Trenton, Ontario Nov. 6th, 2005
Image courtesy of Jim McPhee

Allied forces flew 6,178 Halifax bombers during WWII but few remain. One has risen from the bottom of a Norwegian lake to be restored some fifty years after its crash. NA 337 carried paratroops, supplies and special agents to be dropped to resistance groups in the occupied countries (what NA337 was performing when shot down). Therefore NA337 does not have the mid-upper turret installed to provide more room for personnel, nor the H2S radar installed on the underside. The hole in the floor for the H2S was modified for dropping supplies or to function as the exit for paratroops. The plane was in water 224 metres deep. It was difficult to raise, requiring 13,000 kilograms of force to lift the plane in two pieces. At one point, lightning struck the remote operating vehicle and it tangled with the lifting cables. Once the plane was on shore, it was dismantled and then transported in eight Hercules airplane loads to the RCAF Memorial Museum in Trenton, Ontario, for reassembly and restoration.

This rescue operation was the dream of the Toronto-based Halifax Aircraft Association (HAA). The HAA was founded in 1995, with the goal of restoring a Halifax in honour of the men who flew bombers in the Second World War, especially those who never came back. HAA raised the funds and found the best man to direct the ambitious project, Bill Tytula, LCol (retired) (Mechanical ’60). To read more of the amazing story of the meticulous restoration work, click here.

Going to Germany

On June 1, 2006, Todd and Lynn arrived at our place in Barrie where we were to be  picked up by an airport car for our trip to Pearson Airport. As a goodbye party, we walked downtown to a restaurant, “Naked Steaks”, where we had a great meal, and then back to the condo where we said our goodbyes, and were off to our adventures. Our friends, Lorraine and Fred Carthew came to the lobby to wish us Bon Voyage. Our driver was a very talkative Greek Cypriot, who entertained us to desperation by the time we arrived at the airport, waving his arms around and often not having a hand on the wheel. In spite of that, we arrived safely with three hours to spare, checked through security with no problems, and in good time, boarded the aircraft and took off on time at 11.00 PM. Todd had done the bookings, purchasing Traveler Plus accommodation, which was much more comfortable than economy, much easier on my elderly joints. Other than the water pumps on the aircraft going unserviceable, which meant that we couldn’t get tea, coffee or flush the toilets, the flight was very comfortable, the food very palatable and generous. We landed at Heathrow airport through partly cloudy skies, temperature 20 degrees C. As I remembered from before, there were the stifling crowds, in massive rooms, full of spiraling queues, so that we did not have a lot of time to spare to our connecting flight to Dusseldorf.  We had landed at terminal 4, then caught a bus to terminal 1, finally able to board our flight to Dusseldorf. Clearing immigration and customs, we picked up our luggage, and headed to the exit, where we immediately saw John and Thomas waving to us from behind the barrier.

We made our way out of a very clean and well ordered airport to Thomas’ car, and on our way through Dusseldorf. The streets certainly did not resemble those that I remember from 1944, being extremely clean, traffic well behaved, and the rubble from bombing all gone. One would have trouble finding a piece of litter or loose garbage. After a fair ride, we came to our hotel by 5.00 PM., and were very pleased with our accommodation. Rooms were fairly spacious, the bed firm and comfortable, the bathroom small, with a very sparse space for a shower. We were supplied with everything that we would need or want. Thomas left us to get refreshed with the plan to pick us up for dinner at 7.30 PM which gave us time for a shave, shower and short rest.

German Hospitality

As promised, Thomas arrived to take John, Helen, Todd and I, to dinner which Tina had prepared for us. She had prepared printed, laminated souvenir menus, which we will keep and add to the trip story. Dinner started with a salmon-spinach-puff pastry, salad with sour cream dressing, main course Zurich meat strips with mushrooms & parsley potatoes, dessert strawberry tiramisu. We all had second helpings and left the table very satisfied.

During dinner we discussed many topics covering aspects of the 1939-1945 conflict and how we felt about it. Fortunately it happened so long ago that the feelings have mellowed and lost any angry aspect. Of course, the young people were not even born for thirty years after hostilities ceased, and even John was less than a year old when the war ended.

Again the events of the night of November 21, 1944 were discussed, and for the first time I heard that a priest had witnessed and recorded what he had seen. As debris from the plane had landed very near the church, he had a chance to examine it, and especially noted a very fantastic scientific wonder, which was probably the H2S radar navigation aid with which we were equipped. He had recorded that an airman had been seen landing on the roof of a laundry room and cooking place that had served a school. The airman tumbled from the roof onto a paved surface, scramble up and ran into a nearby forest. A local woman retrieved the silk from the parachute to make clothing, and was very pleased to have it as fabric was at a premium at that time.

Helen Clark expressed great interest in what I had to say about her grandfather, our flight engineer. Fortunately, I was able to tell her that he was a very affable, optimistic, energetic man, whom we all liked, and were very happy with him, as he was very proficient in his trade. One could summarize him as, “a jolly good fellow.” By the way, Helen is a mid wife by profession, working in Britain in or near Kendal. She has attended a German university has mastered the language so that Germans think that she is a German.

Our young German friends live in an apartment on about the sixth or seventh floor, accessed by stairs. Their accommodation is very attractive, with lots of room, for living and dining, with a balcony filled with plants, mostly herbs, which Tina uses in her cooking. After a most interesting and exciting evening, we walked back to the hotel, which took about ten minutes. Lullabies and rocking were not necessary to bring on sleep, the bed was very comfortable and the air fresh.

June 3, 2006

Up, enjoyed breakfast of fruit, cereal, juice, toast, buns, bacon, eggs any variety, sausages, and much more. At 10.30AM, Thomas and Tina arrived with two cars to take us to the village of Trill, about eight kilometers from Dusseldorf. At our destination, I was surprised at seeing a group of people in front of the town hall, and more surprised that they were waiting for us. I am not aware of the names of all the people, but present was the burgomaster [mayor], several members of the Bander family [present owners of the school building and wash house on which I landed], and several other interested folk. [I will have to get a list of the people that were there from Thomas.]

After introductions, we were shown into the garden of one of the Bander family, to the spot where one of my crew mates landed. Although the body apparently was intact, it hit with enough impact to leave an indentation into the grassy area. The lady, a member of the Bander family, spent some time in Canada, qualified as a pilot and did have a career as a commercial pilot. Her garden was a work of art, with extensive shrubbery, flower beds, terracing, and mature trees. From there, we moved down the street a short distance to the site of the residence of another Bander family. This residence was a former school, and just behind it was a small building used as a wash and cook house. Immediately, I could recall the place, and the roof of the wash house where I had landed by parachute, and the forest some four or five hundred yards away, and the side of the hill where I hid under the thick vine.

Jim McPhee looking at the roof top where he landed in 1944

As it was quite dark when I was there in 1944, I could not remember details, but, other than some difference in my concept of the back garden, the general outline was the same. The lane way that I had run down to get to shelter in the bush was gone, but, walking to the edge of the garden, I could see the image of the forest skyline and the hill.

Herr Banda who saw Jim McPhee land on the roof This is a picture  of Herr Gottfried Bander with Hanna Eggerath, co-author of the book about our crash. (JB Note - see page 11) Herr Bander was a six year old whose father was principal and owner of a school. When I parachuted on Nov. 21, 1944, I landed on the school laundry house, and was seen by fellow who was then six.  His father explained to him that it was a soldier who came down from the sky and ran away.  Mr Bander presented me with a monogrammed handkerchief that  his sister had made from part of the parachute at which time  he told me that story.  He said that through his early childhood he was always apprehensive that the soldier might come back and get him. I was his personal boogie man. He also became a musician and toured through North America, and said that he was always ashamed and apologetic about the barbaric things that the Nazis did. While being guests of these gracious and kind people I was close to tears although I am not a very emotional fellow.
jim McPhee with a piece of frameed silk from his parachute At that point, I was presented with a framed and monogrammed handkerchief, which had been made from my parachute. The man presenting me with the remnant of my parachute is a member of the Bander family, the son of the man who formerly owned the building. He is also the father of the lady whose garden we first visited. The lady’s son now lives in the former school building. The presenter asked that I take good care of this memento, and, after showing it to my family and interested friends, asked that I return it to him. When he was a little boy, his father told him the story of an airman coming down out of the sky, landing on the wash house, and running away into the woods. Throughout his childhood, he had a fear that the man would return and take him away. He noted that the man had returned but did not appear as frightful as he had imagined.

From there we walked a little further through the village to where there had been a farm house in 1944. Although the house was no longer there, we were shown where two or three of the bodies of my crew landed. The house had been occupied by Russian prisoners, who were working on the tracks of the local railroad, and these prisoners had been given the task of picking up the bodies, onto a hay wagon for transport, presumably to a morgue. The village inhabitants who had observed the bodies were impressed with the clothing that they wore, and noted that it had been removed and used, but didn’t say who were the beneficiaries.

Ken Wilson

We never did determine where Ken Wilson landed, but we did hear stories that he was alive on landing, that he had both legs broken and suffered a head injury. He had asked for some water, which some women tried to give to him. However, some hostile men among the witnesses prevented them from doing so. At that point a mature man, who owned considerable farm land on the edge of the village intervened, ordered them to leave the man alone and to allow the women to give water and some comfort. This man was the owner of the farm where the motor of the Halifax bomber was found, and was the father of the present owner, Herr Guldenburg. We know that Ken Wilson died, but the timing and circumstance of events are confusing, as he had been taken to a local prisoner of war camp, in the Dusseldorf area, from which he was interred. The official record states that he died just before midnight on November 21, 1944, but the cemetery records are confusing and probably we will never know. However, Hanna Eggerath assures us that Ken was not killed or abused further by the crowd.

From there, we walked up a fairly steep hill to the site of a former convent, now occupied by a family of some means, and was not available to visitors. However, the outside was accessible and a plaque was mounted at one side stating that it was a Dominican order of nuns. There is no doubt that this is where Ab Steeves, the pilot of our Halifax, landed with serious chest wounds. There was no doubt or equivocation in the account that he gave to me of being taken to an infirmary and given compassionate and competent care. I had met him probably two or more weeks later in a segregation camp in Wetzlar, Germany, where he related his story. Thomas and Hanna have not yet found the source of any records that might describe the event. The convent had been given to the Dominican order by some wealthy industrialist, who was in the steel business. He only lived in it for three years before gifting it to the nuns.

The Guldenbergs

From the site of the former convent, walked to the farm of the Guldenburgs, a short distance away where the motor of the Halifax was sitting on a concrete plinth, and in remarkable state of preservation in spite of having come off an exploding aircraft, and plunging into a pond, sixty two years ago. Herr Guldenburg has been very possessive of this artifact, in spite of his wife’s feeling that it was an ugly piece of junk, and that she wished that he would dispose of it. Of course, it was an emotional time for me, thinking that this piece of technology was part of the machinery that took me to this place so many years ago.

Jim Mcphee, Thomas Boller and ToddMcMaster examine the engine from Jim's plane

For those who are intrigued with technology, this was a fascinating piece of machinery, so that Todd, John, and Thomas had endless discussions about the various parts and their function. Hanna Eggerath and her fiancee, Helmut arrived, and gave us some of the history of the artifact.

In 1972 there was a small earthquake in Dusseldorf area, which caused the pond on the Guldenburg farm to drain, exposing the motor, which became a valued possession for Herr Guldenburg. She had taken some pictures of it, showed the picture to Thomas Boller. Thomas has always been very interested in aircraft, and took and immediate interest in the engine. Over about a year and a half, he and Hanna had gone through the military records, the local news, and the internet, coming to find that I was the only living member of the Halifax crew. Through Dr. Jane Pilling-Cormack, who has investigated another plane casualty from the same night and same target, Thomas has located me.

jim Mcphee and friends with the engine from his plane

In front: The Bristol Hercules engine from Halifax NP810.

Left to right:
 Dr. James McPhee, Frau Elizabeth Guldenberg,  Frau Hanna Eggerath, Thomas Boller, John Clark

After some time at the motor, we were invited to lunch by Frau Guldenburg, the lunch turning into a multiple course event, a very generous meal of various German meats, quiches, breads, rolls, followed by a variety of pastry desserts. Over this meal we had much conversations about various subjects, touching on the war, rehabilitation, and our backgrounds and lives. Frau Guldenburg’s grand daughters were there, serving drinks and other amenities. Obviously, Frau was training this eleven year old girl in the art of serving people in the proper way, and the little girl was most gracious and polite. She was very interested in the English words for the various foods and services. Suddenly we realized that lunch had gone on until 6.00 PM. John, Helen, Todd and I were invited to visit Herr Guldenburg in his premises upstairs. The gentleman was in a wheel chair, obviously suffering from hemiplegia and expressive aphasia. Frau G. explained to him who we were and  why we were there. He seemed to appreciate and know what was being said to him by some head nodding, and hand movement. We all expressed our gratitude to him for his preservation of the motor artifact, and his consenting to our visit to his home and to the motor. When we felt that we had visited him long enough, his nurse moved him to his bedroom; Helen asked to speak to him further in German. Again she expressed our gratitude for what he had done, and that she hoped that we would be friends with the Guldenburgs and the Germans generally. At that point he said two German words, translated were, “me too”, the first words that he had uttered since he had suffered the stroke.

We then revisited the motor, John and Todd made many silicon impressions of various parts of the motor. Frau Guldenburg then removed a piece of metal from the motor and presented it to me as a souvenir. The hospitality of the Guldenburg family greatly impressed us all, and Frau G. conceded that she was very glad that her husband had preserved the motor over her objections. As it was getting late, we walked back to the cars, motored back to the Concord Hotel Ascot, where Helen announced that she was hungry and would like to find some where she could get a sandwich. We all walked along the streets, but were unable to find anything open, except a bar. They did not offer any food, so that we decided on having a beer, and call it a “barley sandwich”,which was so good that we had two. The air was full of cigarette smoke. I can hardly believe how taken the village of Trill has been with the story of the crash of the aircraft, and of their hunger for all of the human interest stories of the crew.

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