Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

Family group:

‘On 30 January 1943, the tenth anniversary of Hitler’s seizure of power, Reichsmarshal Goering was scheduled to address a large assembly of the Wehrmacht at the German Air Ministry at 11 a.m.

A few moments before eleven o’clock, German radio listeners heard an announcer say, ‘A dignified ceremony of a military character is taking place in the Hall of Honour at the Reich Air Ministry’. Then Berlin went off the air.

The Mosquito, the R.A.F’s ‘wooden wonder’, had arrived to join the party.

Sweeping across the city at 350 m.p.h. three crack crews from No. 105 Squadron, led by Squadron Leader R. W. Reynolds and Pilot Officer E. B. Sismore, dropped their bombs and returned safely - none being more pleased to do so than Flight Lieutenant J. Gordon and his navigator, Flying Officer R. G. Hayes, who only three days earlier had caught their port wing in some telegraph wires on a low-level mission.

At 4 p.m. Goebbels, the Nazi propaganda chief, had arranged to make a follow-up speech in Berlin. On the dot, the Mosquitos returned. Flying at a low level across the North Sea to a point north of Heligoland, this formation turned inland at Lubeck. Fifty miles from Berlin, the Mosquitos began to climb ‘off the deck’ to a height of 20,000 feet, until the capital appeared below them in brilliant winter sunshine. Squadron Leader D. F. W. Darling, who led this second attack, and his navigator, Flying Officer W. Wright, failed to return.

Twice in a day, and for the first time in the war, Berlin was bombed in broad daylight. Both attacks were pressed home in circumstances which appealed enormously to the British sense of humour. For Hermann Goering, whose Luftwaffe had failed to intercept the Mosquitos, had, in a way, himself stage-managed the R.A.F’s daring performance. From then on the Mosquito, and the men who flew in her, had a moral superiority over the Luftwaffe - and they never lost it.’

Edward Bishop’s Mosquito - The Wooden Wonder, refers.

The outstanding Second World War Mosquito navigator’s D.F.C. group of five awarded to Flying Officer R. G. Hayes, Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, who received an immediate award for the famous daylight raid on Berlin in January 1943, when Hermann Goering was left speechless by the resultant bomb load: yet this was but one of many daring sorties flown by him in No. 105 Squadron, the majority of them of the low-level kind - hence a hair-raising collision with telegraph wires at 50 feet over Copenhagen - a most gallant career which was cruelly ended in November 1943 when his flak-damaged Mosquito spun into the ground

Distinguished Flying Cross, G.VI.R., the reverse officially dated ‘1943’, in its Royal Mint case of issue; 1939-45 Star; Air Crew Europe Star; War Medal 1939-45, these last four in their original card forwarding box addressed to ‘Mrs. E. Hayes, 54, Russell Terrace, Leamington Spa, Warwickshire’, together with original, numbered issuance slip for the campaign medals, Air Ministry condolence slip in the name of ‘Flying Officer R. G. Hayes, D.F.C.’ and Buckingham Palace message of sympathy to ‘Mrs. E. Hayes’, extremely fine

The Second World War campaign group of four awarded to Corporal N. Hayes, Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve

1939-45 Star; Italy Star; Defence and War Medals 1939-45, together with related miniature dress medals, very fine (13)

D.F.C. London Gazette 16 February 1943. The original recommendation states:

‘On 30 January 1943, this officer was the navigator of a crew detailed for a special operation in daylight against Berlin. The success of the operation largely depended on the attack being made at a precise time, and for this reason, it had to be carried out regardless of weather conditions and the pre-flight plan had to be adhered to in every detail. The outward journey involved a trip of over 500 miles, most of which was over German territory and into the heart of the defences, both fighter and anti-aircraft, of the country. Further, the length of the trip was such that only economical cruising speed could be maintained since the conservation of petrol was an important aspect. The advantage of the high speed of the aircraft was, therefore, largely lost except over the target itself.

In order to get in under the enemy warning system, two thirds of the flight was carried out a very low level. This later necessitated a long climb, during which period, the aircraft was particularly vulnerable to fighter interception and attack. In addition the crew were well aware of the acknowledged strong anti-aircraft defences against a daylight attack.

All these hazardous aspects made it necessary for the mission to be carried out with the utmost skill and determination. As is well known, it was carried out precisely as planned and the attack delivered within seconds of the specified time.

F./O. Hayes, although having completed only seven sorties, has already shown that he is determined to press home his attacks and I have no doubt that he will continue to operate in a purposeful and determined manner.’

Ralph Gamble Hayes was born at Kenilworth in 1921 and was educated at Salesian College, London.

Enlisting in the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve after the outbreak of hostilities, he qualified as a navigator and was posted to No. 105 Squadron at Marham in mid-October 1942. Commanded by Wing Commander H. I. “Hughie” Edwards, V.C., D.F.C., 105 was a specialist Mosquito unit engaged on low-level operations.

An early taste of such operations befell Hayes - and his pilot, John Gordon - on 8 December, when they were detailed to attack the steel works at Ijmuiden. As it transpired, they mistook a factory in Harlem as the primary target and attacked it from 100 feet. Similar low-level strikes were carried out by them before the month’s end, so, too, in January, the engine sheds at Amiens and the lock gates at Lingen among them. On the latter occasion their Mosquito was severely damaged by flak, the return journey to Marham being undertaken on one engine and ending with a ‘belly landing’.

On 27 January 1943, Gordon and Hayes participated in a daring low-level strike against the Burmeister Wain Diesel Works at Copenhagen. They were lucky to get home, their Mosquito striking telegraph wires at 50 feet. Mosquito - Wooden Wonder, takes up the story:

‘At the Burmeister and Wain factory in occupied Denmark, the Germans were making U-Boat components. A short, sharp and accurate attack was called for involving a round trip of more than 1,200 miles to Copenhagen. Over the North Sea sped Wing Commander Edwards, leading nine Mosquitos in close formation. Below, the cold, grey-green wavetops licked up at each pregnant bomb belly. In low-level war paint the Mosquitos blended well with sea and countryside. As God plumed his birds to match nature, hunted man had created a jigsaw pattern of dull silvery grey and green on the wings of his aeroplanes.

Low-level unarmed bombers were the special prey of Fw. 190 fighters, if they could swoop down from above - and catch them. Danger would intensify over the enemy coast - fighters above, flak below.

Now over the coast. The concentration increases in each cramped cockpit. Edwards checks his landfall. Too far south. Should he press on? Fuel consumption is a vital consideration on this long round trip. Ahead lies Copenhagen and the target. Out there at sea U-Boats are sending British food and materials to the bottom.

The Mosquitos continue on course. One blessing, it is winter. In summer, the windscreens would very soon be smudged with a mash of dust and squashed flies. Suddenly there's a call on the intercom from Flight Lieutenant Gordon: 'I've been hit.' Puffs of blue smoke billow round the starboard wing of his Mosquito. Nobody realizes it at the time but Gordon is now trailing a length of telegraph wire. This is low-level attack.

The pilots cannot relax their attention to worry about Gordon. At high speed, at rooftop in tight formation, the risk of collision is ever present. Sometimes it happens. Now the bomb doors are opening. In seconds it is all over. The Mosquitos set course for home. When Edwards lands he has only 15 gallons of fuel in his tanks-enough for about another six and a half miles.

Back at base the crews listened to a German radio report on their day's work. Most of the bombs, the announcer said, were duds. How the airmen laughed. Their bombs, as they knew, were fitted with delayed-action fuses. They could tell to a second what time each bomb would shatter the blackout of Copenhagen. In the bar they toasted each explosion. A round of drinks for each detonation.
Some duds! Some aeroplane!’

Next up, on the 30th, was the famous Berlin daylight raid, an achievement that quickly hit the home press:

‘BERLIN, 30 January 1943 ... Berlin, the heart of Hitler's Germany at the height of the war ... Berlin on the tenth anniversary of the German Army. A big military parade has been planned to celebrate the occasion and from early dawn Nazi troops have been assembling in the capital ready to stage a mighty demonstration of their omnipotence. It is announced that Reichsmarschall Goering will broadcast at 11 a.m., to be followed at 4 p.m. by Propaganda Minister Goebbels: It should be a big day for the Nazis.
But the anniversary has not gone unnoticed in England. In the chilly air of early morning three Mosquito aircraft are warming up their engines on the runway at Marham airfield. Shortly after half-past eight Squadron Leader R. W. Reynolds strides up to the leading plane with his navigator, Pilot Officer E. B. Sismore. A last-minute check on the Met. report - it seems O.K. - and then Reynolds turns to the two other crews of 105 Squadron. “All right, chaps,” he says. “Let's go.”

The R.A.F. is off to drop its own highly individual birthday present on the Reich. This is the first raid on Berlin ever made in daylight and no one knows quite what to expect. Reynolds is relying on the high speed of the Mosquito to keep him out of trouble from German fighters but on the five hour round trip there will not be much fuel to spare for evasive tactics. The plan is to drop the bombs dead on 11 o'clock to coincide with the beginning of Goering's speech and this will require some pretty accurate navigation. Sismore is confident that he can do the job: he is the squadron's ace navigator and is later to lead the Pathfinders in some of the war's most devastating raids.

Germany basks in brilliant sunshine on this January morning. The three Mossies have flown at low-level over the North Sea, then high, higher into the heart of Germany. A few minutes before 11 o'clock the tell-tale lakes around Berlin show up as bright white patches as they glint in the sunshine. Dead on target come the Mossies and at 11 o'clock precisely Sismore says “Bombs away.” There are no enemy fighters, very little flak. The Germans have been taken completely by surprise. They upset Goering. The timing could not have been better. At 11 o'clock listeners to the German radio are told by the announcer to stand by for an important speech by Goering. At one minute past 11, accompanied by the explosion of bombs around the broadcasting studio, the programme fades out. There is a long pause. Then, “There will be some delay,” apologises the announcer. Gramophone records fill the gap. It is not until an hour later that the voice of Goering, plainly harassed and angry, comes on the air. By then the three Mosquitos are winging their way safely back home. Opposition has been practically negligible: only Flight Lieutenant J. Gordon, flying back over Bremen in error, receives the violent reception from the ground defences that is his due.’

Hayes and Gordon were awarded immediate D.F.Cs.

In March 1943, following the death of Wing Commander G. P. Longfield, command of No. 105 devolved to Wing Commander J. de L. Wooldridge, D.F.C., D.F.M. Here, then, the commencement of a spate of operations described at length by Wooldridge in Low Attack, among them the daylight strike on Julich - Gordon’s and Hayes’s own account of this memorable operation is published therein. For his own part, Wooldridge would add a D.S.O.and Bar to his accolades in the same period.

In June 1943, 105 joined No. 8 (Path Finder Force) Group and operations continued apace. Squadron records reveal Gordon and Hayes participating in numerous sorties, including a brace of strikes on Knapsack in October 1943, in addition to larger targets such as Bochum and Duisberg.

On 5 November 1943, Gordon and Hayes were detailed to attack the chemical works at Leverkusen. Their Mosquito was damaged and Gordon was compelled to make the return trip on one engine. On reaching Hardwick, he had to abort an emergency landing owing to a lorry being on the runway. The aircraft’s wing then dropped on the dead side and hit a tree, causing the Mosquito to plough into a field at Road Green Farm, Hempnall, Norfolk. Both men were killed instantly.

Hayes, the son of Harold and Edith Hayes of Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, was 22 years old; he was buried in Putney Vale Cemetery and a memorial cross stands today at the site of his Mosquito’s crash at Road Green Farm.

Sold with a quantity of original documentation, including several wartime letters, among them exchanges between the recipient at R.A.F. Marham and his mother, and letters of condolence to his mother; bank and tailor’s accounts, including invoice for the recipient’s officer’s uniform issued by Austin Reed, dated 30 April 1942; newspaper cutting in respect of the Berlin raid; and an impressive array of wartime photographs (approximately 40), aircraft, personnel and target images among them.

Neville Hayes, Ralph’s brother, enlisted in the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve in August 1940, and served in the Central Mediterranean Forces from May 1943. He was released from service in February 1946.

Sold with a quantity of original documentation, including the recipient’s R.A.F. Service and Release Book; pocket diaries (2); address book; and assorted photographs (approximately 50), many of wartime vintage.