The attack on Friedrichshafen on the night of 27/28 April 1944 led to the loss of one of the RAF’s true heroes, Wing Commander Guy Lockhart, DSO, DFC and Bar.
When the planners chose certain vital factories at Friederichshafen as the primary target for an attack on 27/28 April 1944, they were acutely aware of the challenges they faced. The target was deep in enemy territory, it was a moonlit night, and the memory of the disaster at Nuremberg just a few weeks earlier was still firmly in the mind.
The Pathfinders would contribute 59 Lancasters, and the first flares and Green TIs fell on time and were promptly backed up. The marshalling yards and sheds could be clearly identified in the light of the flares and marking was especially accurate. Although Main Force was slow to arrive, the pace soon quickened and a large weight of bombs fell on the eastern part of the town.
The raid might have gone very differently. The zero hour was changed while the aircraft were on their way to the target, but because of w/t failure, the Master Bomber, Squadron Leader Keith Cresswell, failed to receive the message. He made up for being late by putting in a sterling performance in guiding the later stages of the attack, and considerable damage was achieved. Harris described the night’s efforts as ‘one of the most outstanding raids of the war’. All six factories of importance were destroyed.
It did not all go the Pathfinders’ way, however. Three PFF aircraft were shot down and two senior officers killed. One was Group Captain Eric Eaton, the OC of 156 Squadron, whose crew included the Bombing Leader, Squadron Leader Leslie Glasspool DFC, and Flying Officer Philip Wadsworth whose son Michael would go on to write a history of 156 entitled They Led the Way (Highgate Publications, 1992). The other senior officer who died was the OC of 7 Squadron, Wing Commander Guy Lockhart.
William Guy Lockhart
William Guy Lockhart was a pre‑war regular who originally trained as a fighter pilot. Flying defensive sorties and then offensive sweeps with 74 ‘Tiger’ Squadron as part of the Biggin Hill Wing in the summer of 1941, Lockhart accounted for the loss of a Bf109 on 2 July, flying as wingman to the great fighter ace and wing leader Wing Commander ‘Sailor’ Malan.
Escorting 12 Blenheim light bombers on a ‘circus’ – an operation to lure enemy fighters into combat – Malan and Lockhart found themselves in a dogfight, Malan taking a shot at a Messerschmitt as it dived through the bomber formation and into a steep climb. Lockhart fired too, a two‑second burst, and had the satisfaction of seeing the enemy fighter spin onto its back, trailing smoke. He lost sight of it as it disappeared below 8,000ft and was rewarded with a half share in a ‘kill’.
A few days later he had even greater success, accounting for two Bf109s before himself being shot down. He baled out over France from 16,000ft, landing unconscious in the top of a tree. Despite being captured for a short spell, he managed to get away and, on 9 August, crossed into Spain after several adventures along the way.
Arriving back in the UK via Gibraltar at the end of October he was posted to fly Whitleys with 138 (Special Duties) Squadron. Almost immediately he asked to be transferred to the squadron’s Lysander flight, to be trained in the hazardous role of landing enemy agents (called ‘Joes’) in France. Posted to 161 Squadron upon its formation, Lockhart had a heart‑in‑the‑mouth moment on one of his first trips (Operation Baccarat II) when his aircraft became bogged down in a field. The reception party helped with turning the aircraft around and Lockhart managed to make good his escape, with his two agents safely on board. He had been on the ground for 17 long minutes and was a relieved man to make it back to Tangmere in the small hours of the morning.
The perils of dropping agents into France
By now commissioned, Lockhart was awarded the DFC in June 1942, the citation noting his ‘great skill and initiative’, and given command of A Flight. On the night of 31 August/1 September, Lockhart took off for Operation Boreas II but, upon landing, crashed into a grass-covered ditch, taking out the landing gear. Lockhart attempted to make contact with a second Lysander overhead by signalling the letters of his name but the pilot, fearing it to be a trap, left the area soon after. Lockhart set fire to his aircraft and made his way to the south coast with two French agents to a pre‑arranged rendezvous with a Polish‑crewed Felucca from Gibraltar that would take them to safety. Lockhart was taken off safely and again returned to the UK via the Rock. He was awarded an immediate DSO, this time being praised for his ‘careful organisation and planning’.
Tour‑expired and posted to the Deputy Directorate of Intelligence as an acting wing commander, Lockhart was not flying a desk for long before he wangled a posting to 627 Squadron, one of the LNSF (Light Night Striking Force) squadrons, as a flight commander. This was followed soon after with his first operational command, as CO of the newly formed 692 Squadron, and the award of a bar to his DFC (which was gazetted after his death).
Lockhart was only in charge of 692 for a few weeks but he made a lasting impression, both on the authorities and Bennett himself. The citation for his second DFC credited him for the fine record of the squadron and his own willingness to take on the enemy with ‘unremitting keenness and zeal’.
Taking command of 7 Squadron PFF
With the loss of Group Captain Kenneth Rampling DSO DFC on the night of 22 March 1944, Lockhart was asked to take command of 7 Squadron. He arrived in Oakington on 24 March and nearly came to grief on his first familiarisation trip a few days later. This was the night of the infamous raid on Nuremberg, Lockhart choosing to fly as second pilot to an inexperienced NCO, Robert Banks. Homeward bound, their Lancaster was attacked by an Fw190, Banks throwing the heavy bomber into a starboard corkscrew. The German fighter, however, was no novice and stayed with them throughout the manoeuvre, latching onto their tail. The rear gunner let fly with a long burst, whereupon the fighter seemed to break away and into the sights of the mid‑upper gunner, who also fired. Their actions were enough. Hits were registered and the fighter disappeared.
Four weeks later, Lockhart’s extraordinary luck finally ran out when he was shot down and killed on the operation over Friederichshafen, taking with him a vastly experienced crew which included two Section Leaders: Squadron Leader John Martin DFC and Bar, the squadron navigation officer, and the Gunnery Leader, 35-year-old former postman Squadron Leader George Ryle DFC, a man who had lied about his age for fear of being too old for active service.
Ryle’s wife Peggy would later write Missing in Action, a moving account of the days of horrible suspense following her husband’s disappearance. She had to wait until September before final confirmation that her ‘darling Georgie’ was dead. (W.H. Allen 1979).
It was said that Lockhart’s personal hatred for the Nazi regime was what motivated him to press home attacks in circumstances that might have deterred other pilots. There was certainly one occasion when he lost an engine on the outward leg to bomb Berlin and continued on to the target. And there were many others when he braved flak and fighters, undertaking ‘spoof’ raids to draw the enemy defenders away from their real objective.
Bennett, in his autobiography Pathfinder (Frederick Muller 1958), said that he had never met a man so ‘fanatically courageous and press‑on at all times and in all circumstances’.
There can certainly be very few, if any, who matched Guy Lockhart’s phenomenal operational achievement as a fighter pilot, Moonlight pilot, LNSF Mosquito pilot, and PFF pilot extraordinaire.
SEAN FEAST
February 1944, RAF Oakington: far left, Group Captain Rampling with his Section Leaders, including, second from right, George Ryle. All of them were killed in the following three months.
George Ryle and the Award of the PFF Badge
It is interesting to note that George Ryle, the Gunnery Leader on Lockhart’s crew, was given the permanent award of the PFF badge after he went missing. There was some flexibility about the permanent award, and it was sometimes awarded to men who had become prisoners of war, had gone missing, or had been killed, when it was felt that the badge was merited despite the men not having finished their tour.
Peggy Ryle was extremely moved by the award of the badge to her husband, calling it ‘the most wonderful thing’. In her diary, as if speaking directly to ‘Georgie’, she wrote that the badge was ‘the one thing you have always wanted — a permanent Path Finder badge’.
Very sadly, Georgie and all his crew had been killed, but the news did not come through to Peggy until five months later.
JENNIE MACK GRAY
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