Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

A well-documented Second World War pilot’s D.F.C. and Bar group of five awarded to Flight Lieutenant W. S. Breckenridge, Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, whose first D.F.C. was an immediate award for bringing home his crippled Lancaster after being wounded in a devastating night fighter attack over Berlin: his Navigator was awarded the C.G.M. for the same action

Distinguished Flying Cross, G.VI.R., with Bar for Second Award, the reverse of the Cross and of the Bar both officially dated 1944, in its Royal Mint case of issue; 1939-45 Star; Air Crew Europe Star; Defence and War Medals generally good very fine (5) £3000-3500

D.F.C. London Gazette 22 February 1944. The recommendation for an immediate award states:

‘During the attack on Berlin on the night of 30-31 January 1944, Flying Officer Breckenridge was the pilot and captain of a Lancaster bomber. At approximately 21,000 feet on the approach bombing run to the target the aircraft was attacked by an enemy fighter. The initial burst of fire killed the Wireless Operator, and wounded both the Rear and Mid-Upper Gunners, as well as doing extensive damage to the aircraft.

The pilot took evasive action skilfully and shook off the enemy fighter, then regardless of the damage to the aircraft and the fact that all protection from his air gunners had apparently been lost, Flying Officer Breckenridge resumed his bombing run and pressed home the attack on the target.

One minute later the enemy aircraft re-opened its attack firing a five second burst and closed in. As the Rear and Mid-Upper Gunners were out of action, no prior warning reached the Captain who could only take appropriate evasive action on observing the first traces.

The aircraft however was hit again, this time the Navigator being severely wounded. After a further two minutes the enemy aircraft attacked a third time, more damage being done to the aircraft and the Captain’s legs being grazed by a passing bullet.

After bombing a pre-determined course had been steered from the target area but three minutes later a further and fourth attack was made by the enemy fighter, still further hits being sustained. As a result of evasive action the Lancaster had now lost height to 15,000 feet, the original course was resumed and some five minutes later the Navigator, though wounded, was able to give his Captain a corrected course to steer for base.

In spite of the serious damage to his aircraft, which included the hydraulic system out of action, the bomb doors remaining open, the elevators and rudders damaged, the electrical system burnt out, and many other flying instruments seriously damaged, Flying Officer Breckenridge still succeeded in bringing his aircraft back to this country amd made a successful belly landing.

This Officer by skilful airmanship and showing exceptional fighting qualities pressed home his attack with the utmost determination, and then under the most trying conditions extricated his aircraft from a very perilous situation. This was yet another occasion on which Flying Officer Breckenridge displayed exceptional fearlessness in the face of danger, setting a magnificent example not only to all members of his crew but his squadron also.

I strongly recommend that the outstanding example of skill and courage displayed by this Officer merits the immediate award of the Distinguished Flying Cross.’

Bar to D.F.C. London Gazette 14 November 1944. The recommendation states:

‘Flight Lieutenant Breckenridge is a pilot and Captain of Aircraft and second-in-command of his Flight, and has, since being awarded the D.F.C. in February 1944, carried out 23 offensive sorties against the enemy and flown an additional 102 hours on operations.

He has carried out these operations with consistent skill and determination, frequently in the face of the strongest opposition the enemy could muster, having attacked Berlin on five occasions, and also Brunswick, Magdeburg, Cologne and Essen. On more than one occasion he has brought home his aircraft with fighter and flak damage, displaying at all times consistent skill in pilotage, cool judgment and courage of the highest order.

Through courage and skill in the air, and his leadership as a Captain of Aircraft and as second-in-command of his Flight, he has welded his crew into an extremely fine fighting unit which is an example to the whole squadron.

I recommend that in recognition of this Officer’s sustained accomplishments in courage and leadership that he be awarded a Bar to the Distinguished Flying Cross.’

William Scott Breckenridge was born in the Parish of Dennistown, Glasgow, in June 1918 and attended Stepps Primary School and Allan Glen’s Senior Secondary School before joining a company of watchmakers. Having enlisted in the Militia at Glasgow in July 1939, he was called up on the outbreak of hostilities and served in the Royal Army Service Corps with the B.E.F. and was lucky to be evacuated from St. Nazaire in June 1940 - it would seem he was posted missing having been among those aboard the ill-fated Lancastria.

In mid-1941, Breckenridge transferred to the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve and, having completed his pilot training out in the U.S.A., returned to the U.K. to take up an appointment at R.A.F. Leconfield in June 1942. Then in November of the following year, after attending an O.T.U., he was posted to No. 626 Squadron, a Lancaster unit, operating out of Wickenby. Breckenridge subsequently completed his first operational sortie - to Berlin - on the night of 2-3 December 1943. Two more trips to the “Big City” followed in the same month, while in January 1944 sorties were flown to Brunswick and Magdeburg, in addition to a brace of return trips to Berlin. It was on the second of these, on the night of 30-31 January, that Breckenridge won an immediate D.F.C. Garbett and Goulding take up the story in The Lancaster at War:

‘As P./O. Bill Breckenridge of 626 Squadron and his crew set course for Berlin in Lancaster BI, ME584 UM-Y, in the gathering dusk of January 30 1944, a life-and-death struggle lay but a few hours ahead.

The crew comprised three Scotsmen, three Canadians and an Englishman. This was their sixth trip together and already they had been to Berlin three times, besides Brunswick and Magdeburg for variety.

It was a pleasant evening with little cloud, which suited the Canadian navigator, Jack Meek. He was able to get several accurate winds with their direction and strength.

They had no trouble getting to the target. Some combats were seen as they came in from the north and swung in, well on time, at 20,000 feet. There was plenty of flak and the low clouds, with tops to about 8,000 feet, were lit up by searchlights.

They had settled on the bombing run when suddenly an unseen fighter attacked at close range, perhaps 200 yards, on the starboard side. The kite shuddered as shells tore into the metal, making a terrific din, so loud it could be heard above the engines.

The mid-upper gunner was smashed and ‘Biff’ Baker, the Englishman, a keen amateur boxer, was hit on the side of the face, his helmet and oxygen mask torn away. The rear turret was badly holed and the Canadian, Joe Schwartz, severely wounded by a piece of exploding shrapnel in his foot. Both he and ‘Biff’ Baker soon lapsed into unconsciousness. The intercom to the rear end was u/s so those forward did not know what was happening aft.

Bill, the skipper, took immediate evasive action, diving to starboard. On recovering, he again levelled out on the bombing run and Val Poushinsky, the Canadian bomb aimer, dropped the load on the estimated position of the markers before the attack.

A minute later they were again attacked, perhaps by the same fighter, but this time from the port quarter, and at 400 yards. With his two gunners out cold, though he did not know it, the skipper had no warning but dived to port on observing the first tracers coming in.

The kite was pitching around all over the place as the skipper tried everything he knew to shake off the fighter. The navigator, crouched down behind the skipper, was doubled up from hits and instinctively grabbed his chute before passing out.

Things were certainly happening fast. They could not shake off the searchlights or flak, let alone the fighter. It was a madhouse, with the terrific noise of exploding shells and screaming engines.

After a further two minutes, the fighter found them again. He closed in from the starboard quarter, at 400 yards, and let forth yet another devastating barrage. This time the skipper was hit, a passing bullet grazing his legs.

The original course was resumed from the target area after further violent manoeuvres, but three minutes later came the fourth attack. Again they were hit but the range was now about 500 yards.

By the time the fighter was shaken off, their height was down to 15,000 feet. No further attacks came as the skipper, completely unflurried and flying his battered kite as if on a cross-country trip, got away from the area as fast as possible.

Slowly the crew began to recover. Jimmy, the wireless op, was found slumped over his set. He was warm but unconscious, so he was given first aid. Not until they landed would they know he was past help.

Jack Meek regained consciousness to discover that he had two wounds. One was in his shoulder. The other was caused by shrapnel which went clean through his middle, entering at the right side of his back and emerging at the left front, just below his chest, missing his heart by inches. Though he knew he was badly hit, he would not know the full extent of his injuries until they landed.

‘Biff’ Baker and Joe Schwartz also revived. The latter extracted himself from his turret, crawled up the fuselage to the rest-bed, but again collapsed. Val Poushinsky rendered first aid to both Schwartz and Meek before taking up position in the astrodome. Meanwhile, ‘Biff’ Baker clambered into the still-serviceable rear turret, even though he was injured and without oxygen.

To make matters worse, the rear fuselage began to fill with smoke soon after leaving the target area. Alex Stephenson, the engineer, went aft and put out the fire.

The kite was in a fearful state.The hydraulic system had been shot away. The bomb doors would not close, nor, as they found later, would the wheels lower. One petrol tank was holed, three rev counters and three boost gauges useless, as were the direction finder and gyro-compass. The elevators and rudders were also badly damaged.

Jack Meek’s navigational gear was wrecked, but accurate data on the winds on the route-in now came in handy. All he could do was dead reckon on these, but in reverse. He could not hold up the sextant for his left arm kept dropping down, finally becoming completely useless.

Luckily, his figures were good for they took them right back on track. He also took observation of landmarks he knew. When he saw searchlights or flak over German territory he would say to the skipper, “That’s Hanover. Go so many minutes in such a direction then bear so much west.” Two hours after leaving Berlin he was able to get a Gee fix despite feeling lightheaded from loss of blood and lack of oxygen. They were now over Zuider Zee and only three miles off track.

The open bomb doors caused a lot of drag and the skipper could not get much speed, though he did manage to hold altitude. All were chilled through, due to the many gaping holes, while the lack of oxygen was taking its toll.

Over the North Sea the electrical system caught fire, but the mid-upper gunner and flight engineer succeeded in extinguishing the fire after a short, fierce battle.

Thirty miles from the English coast the Gee packed up. A distress signal was sent homing them in to Docking, on the Norfolk coast. A crash-landing was inevitable. The wheels would not come down, as the air pressure was blown away, and frantic efforts by the skipper and engineer resisted all attempts to unlock them.

With the crew at crash positions, the skipper brought the kite in, but she was difficult to control and he had to overshoot. On the second attempt, he brought her in like a baby, ran forward on the tailwheel, nose well up, then slowed. The open bomb doors hit the ground, snapped shut, and suddenly all was quiet. They were down. There was no fire.’

Having recovered from his leg wound, Breckenridge returned to the operational scene with a sortie to Rouen on the night of 18-19 April 1944, an outing quickly followed by similar operations to Cologne, Dusseldorf, Essen and Friedrichshaven in the same month. May, too, proved busy, with a number of French targets on the agenda in the lead up to the Normandy landings, in addition to raids on Duisberg, Dortmund and Aachen. And in June the French brief continued apace, with strikes against Boulogne, Rheims, Les Hayons, Licencourt, Vaires and Vierzon-Ville, in addition to a sortie to Gelsenkirchen. Breckenridge finally completed his operational tour with a strike against enemy troop positions near Caen on 7 July 1944.

Awarded a Bar to his D.F.C., he was next employed at 1667 C.U. at Sandtoft, but he did not fly operationally again and was released from the R.A.F.V.R. as a Flight Lieutenant in February 1946. Breckenridge went on to be employed as Air Traffic Control Officer at Renfrew / Glasgow airport and died in May 1971.

Sold with an impressive array of original wartime artefacts and documentation, including:

(i) The canvas “Nose Art” roundel taken from the recipient’s Lancaster at the end of his operational tour, depicting in the centre a frothing beer tankard with clasped R.A.F. Officer’s hand, and falling bombs to the left, and surround motto, “Wilkie’s Reply / A Wee Bucket Fra’ Jonnie”.

(ii) The recipient’s Irvin Flying Jacket, one shoulder seam and one arm torn/holed

(iii) The recipient’s Flying Log Book, covering the period October 1941 to November 1945.

(iv) Buckingham Palace forwarding letter for the D.F.C. and Bar, and assorted newspaper cuttings announcing the award of the former, the story of “Y for Yoke’s” miraculous return from Berlin having attracted the attention of the home press.

(v) Wartime crew photograph; and six “Cook’s Tour” images of bomb-damaged Cologne and Essen.

(vi) Soldier’s Service and Pay Book and R.A.F. Service and Release Book.

(vii) R.A.F.-issue silk evaders’ map for Northern Europe; together with two or three statisical charts.

(viii) United States Army, “Southeast Air Corps Training Center” diploma ‘given at Craig Field, Ala.’ on 24 April 1942.

(ix) Wartime flying / navigational manuals, including Pilot’s and Flight Engineer’s Notes for the Lancaster.