- Contributed by
- People in story:
- Jacob ('Jack') Goldstein; Bud Churchward; Lloyd ('Lefty') Etherington; Chuck Goddard; Alf ('Chalky') White; Ted Hull; Bob Green; Sadie (Sarah), Leila and Michael Goldstein; Ron Goldstein
- Location of story:
- Background to story:
- Royal Air Force
- Article ID:
- Contributed on:
- 11 January 2006
The crew of RF154 (AS-B), probably early March 1945
This is the story of what happened, on the night my father, Sergeant Jack Goldstein was killed in action, Friday 16 March 1945. It is as accurate as we can get it, and is based on extensive research carried out by my uncle, Dad’s youngest brother, Ron Goldstein, a major contributor to the WW2 People’s War project (U520216).
First, some background. My father (real name Jacob, but always known as Jack) was born in Warsaw, Poland. He was brought to England by his mother Feigele (‘Fanny’), with his older brother Levy (later known as Lou) and sister Annie, just before the outbreak of WW1, his father Yosef having immigrated in London with his brother-in-law a short while previously. The family settled in the East End of London, and grew to eleven children in all, five boys and six girls. All the boys served in the forces during WW2; all returned safely except my father.
Dad was 27 years old when WW2 was declared. I had been born just four months previously, and my sister, Leila, was just over five years old. Dad enlisted on 22 January 1944. I believe he had tried to enlist previously but was denied owing to his Polish birth. It was not until the Government decided to bring into service all ‘friendly aliens’ that he could join up. He joined the RAFVR (service number 2235812), volunteering for flying duties. He was posted successively to No 3 air Crew reception Centre, No 15 Initial training Wing, No 1E Air Gunners’ School, No 8 Air Gunners’ School, No 28 Operational Training Unit, and No 1 base Unit (1667 Heavy Conversion Unit), before being assigned to 166 Squadron Bomber Command at RAF Kirmington in Lincolnshire on 5 January 1945. In all, he flew 15 operations as mid-upper gunner in Lancasters from Kirmington, plus several exercises and aborted missions, including the major raid on Dresden on 13 February 1945.
This, then, is the story of the fateful night of Friday 16 March 1945….
It was a ‘normal’ day for the Squadron. There had been a couple of short practice bombing trips the days before, which were aborted due to bad weather. But the briefing after lunch on 16 March 1945 gave that night’s operational target as Nuremberg — which was not welcomed, as Nuremberg was know to be heavily defended. They were warned to expect heavy flak, with the possibility of fighters before they reached the target. There were to be 26 aircraft from 166 Squadron in the attack; the battle order number was 232.
The crew of Dad’s aircraft consisted of three Canadians - Bud Churchward (pilot), Lloyd ‘Lefty’ Ethrington (navigator), and Chuck Goddard (bomb aimer) — and three other British people apart from my father (mid-upper gunner) — Alf ‘Chalky’ White (wireless operator) from High Wycombe, Ted Hull (flight engineer) from Romford, and Bob Green (rear-gunner). Their aircraft was code RF154 (AS-B), nicknamed TARFU (‘Things Are Really ****** Up’). That night it was laden with 2154 gallons of fuel, a 4000lb high explosive bomb, and six 1000lb incendiary clusters.
They were due on the target, the central marshalling yards of Nuremberg, at 9.34pm. By 9.30pm, they were at 20,000 feet and on their approach to the target, which they could see in flames ahead of them. There had been some trouble with the rear guns en route, firing short bursts spontaneously, and again at this time. There was some flak, and then fighter flares to both port and starboard. They were within seconds of releasing their bombs. And then it happened. My father was heard to shout “Corkscrew p…” — it was thought he was going to say “...port” but he didn’t get that far. By the time the rear gunner (Bob Green) yelled “Corkscrew Skipper for Christ’s sake!” it was too late. There were shells ripping through the fuselage and starboard wing root which caught fire. The port wing was also on fire, and the bomb bay had also been hit, letting off the incendiaries and setting light to the aircraft floor. The extinguishers were emptied but to no avail. There was no option but to abandon the aircraft.
The bomb aimer (Chuck Goddard) got out first through the front escape hatch, then the flight engineer (Ted Hull). The navigator (Lefty Ethrington) first became stuck in that hatch by his parachute, but after a struggle managed to escape. In the rear turret, the guns had elevated and jammed the foot of the rear gunner (Bob Green); he manually cranked his turret round to ‘beam’, opened the turret doors, leaned out and pulled the ripcord; the opening parachute pulled him out, with his boots left behind. The way out for the wireless operator (Alf White) was through the normal rear entrance towards the tail; as he made his way there, he passed my father still slung in his harness in the mid-upper gun turret, and slapped his legs in case he had not heard the pilot’s order to bale out. Throughout this time the pilot (Bud Churchward) struggled to keep the ‘plane on an even keel. He saw the three get out through the front hatch, but would not be able to see the others exit via the rear. When he thought they were all gone, he gave a roll call to check, receiving a response only from the rear gunner (Bob Green). After Bob told him he was going, Bud asked if there was anyone still there. Not hearing any more, he assumed all had jumped. So he himself baled out.
It now seems fairly certain that my father did not bale out of the aircraft, and was likely already dead while still airborne. No-one heard him after his cry: “Corkscrew p…”, and no-one saw him leave; he was still in his harness when Alf White left. An Investigation Report, dated 6 December 1946, from the No 3 Missing Research and Enquiry Unit, British Armed Forces of Occupation, to the Air Ministry London, relating to Lancaster RF154 (my father’s aircraft on that fateful night) contains information about my father’s original burial (described below), and includes the following statement:
“…The other six crew members were taken prisoner, but the deceased [my father] had crashed with the burning aircraft….”
There is, however one anomaly. The aircraft was seriously on fire as it fell from the sky, as the six 1000lb incendiaries had been set off by the shells of the fighter which brought the aircraft down. The 4000lb bomb had nit been released when the aircraft was hit, so would have been in the bomb bay when falling to the ground; if it was still in the aircraft when it crashed, which would have caused huge damage on impact. There are some suggestions (for example, from other crew on the raid that night) that the aircraft exploded before hitting the ground. Yet my father did not suffer major burning. The exhumation report dated 24 June 1947, on my father’s reburial in the Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery in Durnbach, Bavaria, describes his clothing and equipment as:
“Remains of RAF BD, Sgt’s chevrons, airman issue shirt, long woollen underwear, blue aircrew sweater, blue aircrew socks, airman issue braces. Issue flying boots, escape type. Remains of mae west, and electrically heated flying suit”.
The fact that he was buried and re-buried in full flying gear is consistent with the body being very damaged.
German records show that at 9.31pm on 16 March 1995, a Lancaster bomber was shot down by Feldwebel (Sergeant) Schuster from Luftwaffe unit I./NJG5, north of Nuremberg. By all accounts, his aircraft was a Junkers JU88. The Lancaster crashed near Kammerstein, which is in the administrative region of Roth, Bavaria, south of Nuremberg. As mentioned above, there is an Investigation Report to the Air Ministry dated 6 December 1946, the full text of which is:
“Herr Koelisch, Pfaffenhofen, near Roth was detailed on 17 March 1945 [the day after the night my father’s aircraft was shot down] by an officer from the Luftwaffe Station at Roth to proceed to the New Cemetery at Schwabach and bury seven English [sic] Flyers — the dead members of two crews who crashed near Schwabach in the evening of 16 March 1945. Six of these flyers were brought to the churchyard from a crash in the Penzendorfer Strasse, Schwabach, and Koellisch said that 3 were Canadian and 3 were English. (The aircraft was Lancaster I, PD275, and the seventh crew member, another Canadian, was captured by the Germans and became a Prisoner of War). After their burial another English flyer was brought from a crash near Kammerstein. The other six crew members were taken prisoner, but the deceased [my father] had crashed with the burning aircraft. All the papers belonging to these Airmen had been taken by the Luftwaffe authorities in Roth. They were the only aircraft to crash in this area on 16 March 1945, therefore the airman taken from the crash at Kammerstein must be Sgt Goldstein. Sgt Goldstein was buried with the other six airmen in a communal grave in the New Cemetery at Schwabach”.
A ‘Graves Concentration Report Form’ completed 2 July 1948 identifies the six other airmen originally buried with my father in Schwabach — P/O Malyon, F/O Kerr and F/Lt Daymond from RCAF; and Sgt Hathaway, P/O Woffenden and Sht McNicol from RAFVR. My father was described as ‘Body 1’ of seven.
They were all reburied, in individual graves of course, on 18 June 1948 at the Commonwealth War Grave cemetery at Durnbach, near Bad Toltz in Bavaria. This is the most southerly of all the Commonwealth War Graves in Germany, and is about 30 miles south of Munich. My father’s grave identification is plot XI, row K, grave 22.
All six survivors of my father’s aircraft crew were captured by the German forces:
Alf White was captured immediately, as his parachute took him onto the lawn of Nuremberg Prison! Lefty Ethrington landed about 10 miles south-west of Nuremberg (his reckoning is likely to be reliable as he was the flight navigator); he was significantly burned, so by the next morning (Saturday 17 March 1945) he was badly in need of medical attention, so gave himself up to a small village near to Kammerstein. Ted Hull’s experience was also seriously burned about the face, and was captured early the next morning (Saturday 17 March 1945). All three (Alf, Lefty and Ted) were taken to Munich for interrogation and then to Nuremberg POW camp, as were Chuck and Bob.
Bud Churchward was not captured for several days, but ended up in a prison in Stuttgart before being marched east. He was liberated by the US Army and did not meet up with the rest of the surviving crew until his return to England.
But Ted Hull’s story of his capture is the most traumatic and relevant to this story. When he was captured on the morning after the crash, he was taken to a nearby camp where he was interrogated by two SS officers for about an hour. They accused him of being Jewish and coming from ‘a Jewish squadron’. He was told: ‘Your mid-upper gunner is a Jew, and so are you”. Evidently, the German authorities had identified my father as Jewish from his name (he didn’t change his name when enlisting as some other Jewish men did) and also from his identity tags which gave the person’s religion. Ted was in a bad way, but was interrogated three times along the same lines. He cannot recall how long he was in that camp, and was clearly in a state of shock as well as suffering from his untreated injuries. In his mind he thought he saw my father amongst a small group of men being taken by armed guards to some pits, which he took to be mass graves. For many years after his release, he still maintained that he had seen my father at the camp and was convinced that he had been shot there. But this is inconsistent with all the other information available. Ted described my father as being ‘very distinctive … and not easy to miss’. However, my father’s service record gives his height on enlistment as 5’ 2¼”, which would make it difficult to mark him out in a closely guarded group.
Eventually, after VE day on 13 May 1945, all six survivors returned to their loved ones and began to re-form their lives. My mother learned that my father was ‘missing’ by means of a telegram on 17 March 1945. I took her many weeks, even months, before she accepted that he was truly killed, and to her dying day at the age of 87 on 7 January 2001, she never stopped grieving.
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