Auction Catalogue
Create new listIntroduction
Bomber Command’s offensive will probably be best remembered for such epic achievements as the “Dambuster” raid in May 1943, or, for that matter, the horrifying “firestorms” it caused at Hamburg just two months later and the equivalent devastation inflicted on Dresden in February 1945. But no less notable was the gallant - but costly - strike made against the enemy’s rocket research establishment at Peenemünde on the night of 17-18 August 1943, when, for the first time, such a large force - nearly 600 aircraft - was concentrated on such a small target: at its head, with the hair-raising task of ensuring no less than three separate aiming points were accurately marked, was “Master Bomber” Group Captain John Searby, D.F.C., who Guy Gibson had earlier described as being a man blessed with ‘truly exceptional’ courage and powers of leadership.
Nor did Searby fail to deliver, his skilful assessment of the unfolding drama and his cool-headed radio commentary gaining the desired effect, his force bombing with such accuracy that a vital delay to the V-2 rocket programme was achieved in a single stroke - “it was just as though he was in the room talking to you - absolutely fantastic”, later commented one pilot. But it was not just Searby’s calming influence that was so noticeable to fellow aircrew, for he remained over the moonlit target area for 45 minutes, a period that witnessed him seeing a number of our own 4000lb. bombs spinning earthwards within a few feet of his Lancaster, and making seven separate runs over the inferno below, latterly while witnessing enemy night fighters extract a cruel price for the audacity of the raid - around 40 of our aircraft were brought down with a resultant loss of more than 280 aircrew, while Searby was fortunate to survive an attack on his own Lancaster by an Me. 110. In the event, the operation was a complete success, and established for good the role of “Master Bomber” within the P.F.F.
Just seven days later, for what one historian would afterwards describe as ‘one of the greatest acts of individual bravery of the War’, the King approved the award of Searby’s immediate D.S.O. Later still, Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir Arthur T. Harris, G.C.B., O.B.E., A.F.C., concluded:
‘Air Commodore John Searby, D.S.O., D.F.C., served under my command during the war with outstanding distinction and determination - as his hard won decorations go to show. As “Master Bomber” he controlled the entire attack on the enemy’s rocket and flying bomb experimental station at Peenemünde and did it so successfully and thoroughly that the effect postponed the rocket and flying bomb attacks on this country for a considerable and vital period ... That was but one of his many outstanding exploits during the war and this country owes much to him and his ilk.’
The Property of Mrs. D. C. Searby
The highly important Second World War D.S.O., D.F.C. group of eight awarded to Air Commodore J. H. Searby, “Master of Ceremonies” on the occasion of the famous Peenemünde raid in August 1943: the success of the operation proved decisively the value of “Master Bomber” tactics and caused a vital delay to the V-2 rocket programme
Distinguished Service Order, G.VI.R. 1st issue, silver-gilt and enamels, the reverse of the suspension bar officially dated ‘1943’; Distinguished Flying Cross, G.VI.R., the reverse officially dated ‘1943’; 1939-45 Star; Air Crew Europe Star, clasp, Atlantic; Defence and War Medals, M.I.D. oak leaf; General Service 1918-62, 1 clasp, Palestine 1945-48 (Act. Gp. Cpt., R.A.F.); Coronation 1953, mounted as worn, contact wear, generally very fine or better (8) £30,000-40,000
D.S.O. London Gazette 7 September 1943. The original recommendation for an immediate award states:
‘On the night of 17-18 August 1943, when a heavy and extremely concentrated bombing attack was conducted against the Radio Research Laboratories at Peenemünde, Group Captain Searby, who had twice carried out similar tasks, was ordered to remain in view of the target and, by means of radio control, to direct the main bombing force on to the precise aiming point.
This extremely difficult and exacting task was executed with consummate skill and is all the more praiseworthy as it necessitated Group Captain Searby remaining in the well defended target area for 30 minutes [actually 45 minutes], while no less than 20 and probably more [actually 40] bomber aircraft were shot down by enemy fighters.
The magnificent leadership, tenacity of purpose and devotion to duty displayed by Group Captain Searby is deserving of the highest praise.
I therefore strongly recommend Group Captain Searby for the immediate award of the Distinguished Service Order.’
D.F.C. London Gazette 20 April 1943. The original recommendation - written by Guy Gibson - states:
‘Squadron Leader Searby’s determination in seeking out and bombing the precise aiming point has been most marked. His display of leadership, courage, enthusiasm and drive in his personal operations and in the direction of his Flight has been truly exceptional. Such outstandingly meritorious service has set a fine example which has materially contributed to the high morale and operational record of this Squadron, and for this, Squadron Leader Searby is strongly recommended for the award of the Distinguished Flying Cross.’
Mention in despatches London Gazette 14 June 1945.
Early Days
John Henry Searby was born at Whittlesey, near Peterborough on 23 April 1913 - “St. George’s Day, Shakespeare’s birthday and my birthday”, he would leater reflect, and a date that always gave him the impression that he was destined to serve his country. Barely having got to know his father, who was killed in action on the Somme in October 1916 while serving as a Sapper, young John subsequently moved with his mother to Spalding, where he attended the local Grammar School, and, aged sixteen years, won a place in the Aircraft Apprentices Scheme at R.A.F. Halton in Buckinghamshire. On completion of his course his certificate carried a notation that he was ‘considered suitable for future employment as an airman pilot’ and, in 1935, he was posted to the Flying Training School at Grantham, from which he graduated as a Sergeant Pilot.
By the outbreak of hostilities in 1939, Searby was serving with No. 108 Squadron at Bassingbourn, a Blenheim unit then employed on non-operational duties, an appointment that was followed by attendance at No. 1 School of Air Navigation in Canada. Here he gained valuable experience on cross-Atlantic - and other long distance - flights and improved his skills as a specialist navigator. Posted to No. 8 Group back in the U.K. in September 1941, his 12-hour-long return flight nearly ended in disaster - ‘we made Prestwick by the Grace of God with the props stopping as I taxied away from the landing strip - out of gas!’
In the following month, as a result of his request to gain operational experience, Searby was posted on ‘temporary duties’ to No. 9 Squadron at Honington, a Wellington unit, and on the night of the 12th flew on his very first sortie, a strike against Bremen, his flying log book noting that the defences were very active with heavy flak ‘bursting uncomfortably near’. Later that month he was transferred to another Wellington unit, No. 405 Squadron at Pocklington, and on the night of the 31st completed a sortie to Hamburg, where, once more in the role of 2nd Pilot, his aircraft was welcomed by ‘a welter of bursting cordite and the noise was fantastic’. Four days later the target was Dunkirk, where he noted that there was ‘plenty of light and medium flak’, and, on 7 November, he flew for the first time as Captain of Aircraft, his target on this occasion being the docks at Boulogne: in his haste to avoid enemy night fighters, Searby brought his Wellington down to 4000 ft. and ‘eventually got mixed up with the Folkestone-Dover Balloon Barrage!! (My own fault).’
Yet his expertise as a specialist in navigation was still in demand at staff level, and at the end of the year he was posted to H.Q., No. 4 Group. A similar posting followed to No. 2 Group in March 1942, but in September of the same year, as a result of a successful interview with Air-Vice Marshal Coryton, he rejoined the operational scene with a posting as a Flight Commander to No. 106 Squadron at Syerston.
Flight Commander to Guy Gibson
With the stern words of Coryton still ringing in his ears - “I want my aircraft flown to the limit - I rely on Flight and Squadron Commanders to set an example”, Searby was soon to be the recipient of even sterner words from his new C.O., Wing Commander Guy Gibson. In his posthumously published war memoirs, The Everlasting Arms, Searby described their very first encounter thus:
‘It was an extraordinary meeting. He had been flying the previous night and was under some strain. He asked me what I had been doing before joining him - and heard me out with obvious distaste - impatient and barely polite. He was a small man - with fresh complexion, and I thought, cocky as they come. I was brief but he cut in:
“You can forget all that - it means nothing. Anything you may have done before you came here is nothing. This is the real thing.”
He got up from his desk and walked to the window, hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his uniform jacket. Then, “Ops. are what count here - and anyone who doesn’t like it can get out.”
I began to dislike him, but sensed this was a bad moment; the letters to the next of kin of the men who were missing lay on his desk awaiting signature - three Lancasters and their precious crews was a nasty knock.
Once again: “Forget it - it means nothing.”
I saluted and left the office; there was no more to be said - no time for trivia - no welcome but the blunt truth - and his unspoken words amounted to this - “You are a general duties officer - Flying Branch - so, bloody well fly and prove it.”
They were very early days and I think he was right both in what he said and in his attitude. We understood each other from the word go and we had our differences, not infrequently, and though storms blew up he could forget them in a day. He was a supreme leader of men in war - and in no wise would he set a task he could not perform himself and do better than anyone else.’
Returning to his quarters, Searby found that he had already inherited the wardrobe of an officer who had been posted missing the evening before - and the same pilot’s distraught spaniel, which had sensed its master’s fate with a good deal of howling about the time his aircraft was lost over Cologne. But from this somewhat unsettling beginning, Searby soon forged a close working relationship with Gibson (and his fellow aircrew), although from time to time they came into conflict with one another - Searby, for one, supported the contention that wives and sweethearts should be allowed to visit their aircrew husbands on weekends, while Gibson was very much against it. Yet in terms of matters operational, they were ‘all for one’, bonded by a common cause to raise standards and fighting prowess, and no better record of this highly successful relationship exists than that retold in Searby’s The Everlasting Arms, in which he provides a unique insight into Gibson’s character. Gibson, of course, makes mention of Searby in his own wartime memoir, Enemy Coast Ahead, in which he described him as ‘a little older than the average, rather taciturn - sometimes severe - but a very good-hearted fellow.’
Searby flew his first mission with No. 106 against Genoa on the night of 6 November 1942, the first of four successive trips against Italian targets. But at the end of the month - no doubt to Gibson’s satisfaction - the squadron’s operational brief reverted to the usual run of heavily-defended German targets - Searby and his crew visiting Stuttgart, Mannheim and Munich before the year’s end. In the strikes against the last two named targets, his Lancaster was coned by the searchlights, and of the events that unfolded over Munich he later wrote:
‘We had expected Munich to be well defended and so it proved; the ground below was a mass of red blushes from the anti-aircraft batteries sending up stuff accurate for height and covering the approach from the lake. Then we were coned: groping white fingers moved back and forth across us to settle firmly on the Lancaster and hold her, blinding me to everything outside the perspex canopy - and we were about to commence the final run before releasing the bombs. It was a bad moment; the flak began cracking all round as I stuffed the nose down and held her in a screaming dive watching the altimeter needle spin rapidly as we dropped earthwards from 18,000 feet to 10,000 in what seemed only seconds ... and they lost us as I pulled out to open the bomb doors. The Lancaster shook from nose to tail and gradually the speed fell off but we were down to 9,000 with light flak hosing upwards - red and green blobs whistling past in steady procession ... I swung her hard over and began to climb with full power to get clear. Not a scratch, not a mark - and I wiped the sweat from my forehead. Duty done and now for home ...’
Nor did the new year bring any respite, Searby having a hard time of it over Essen on the night of 13-14 January 1943:
‘My own gunners suffered frosbite and almost everything that could go wrong did so - failure of the inter-com, failure of the heating circuit to the rear gunner, overspeeding and consequent shut-down of the starboard inner engine and a near miss which blew off a bomb door ... All in all it was a horrible experience’
Berlin and Dusseldorf followed in quick succession, as did “easier” runs to Lorient and Milan, but again, in an attack on Bremen on the night of 21-22 February, No. 106 faced horrendous opposition. With Gibson away on leave, Searby had assumed temporary command of the Squadron, and to begin with had been told to plan a strike against the submarine base at Vegesack on the Weser river. At the last moment, however, Gibson returned unexpectedly, having cancelled his leave, and, seeing Searby’s name on the crew list for the coming operation, took a pencil and crossed it out - “Vegesack! That’s not for you - you don’t want a lump of crap like that in your log book, do you?” Searby was none too pleased, but before he could protest, the Squadron Intelligence Officer entered the office and told them the target was now Bremen. Searby takes up the story:
‘I rewrote my name on the paper and Guy watched me. The Intelligence Officer vanished. I kept calm though inwardly I was boiling. Then, to my astonishment I heard Gibson say, “O.K. John, that’s all right - have a good trip.” And he went into his own office. He never referred to the matter again and it was all forgotten next day. In fact I did not have a good trip - quite the reverse - for a near-miss shook the Lancaster badly and the aircrew dinghy came out of the stowage in the starboard mainplane and wrapped itself round the elevators with the result that the aeroplane went into a steep dive from 18,000 feet down to 3,000 feet and I needed the assistance of the Flight Engineer to pull out. Then we flew amid a nightmare of balloons, searchlights and showers of light flak as far as the mouth of the river where a convoy put up a curtain of the stuff. The steel bottle of compressed carbon dioxide which inflated the dinghy had struck the tailplane making a large hole and we made it back across the North Sea with one engine feathered and no dinghy should we need to ditch ...’
Before the month was out, Searby had completed further sorties to Nuremburg, Cologne and St. Nazaire, and in the first week of March he made return trips to the “Big City” and Essen, followed by another visit to Nuremburg on the night of 8th-9th, when his Bomb Aimer, the Squadron Bombing Leader, requested another run over the target, much to the consternation of his fellow crew members - ‘The return to the target absorbed a full ten minutes and by then we were much alone and a mark for every gun and searchlight. Nevertheless, we made it and Lodge performed his task with admirable coolness ... ’
It was at this point that Gibson’s visits to Group H.Q. became even more frequent, for, unbeknown to the remainder of the Squadron, he was already being briefed about the formation of a top secret unit to tackle the Dams. As a result, following the raid against Nuremburg on the night of 8-9 March, Searby shouldered the burden of command for 106’s next three sorties, against Munich, Stuttgart and Essen - the whole carried out over a four day period - and, having been formally appointed C.O., additional raids against Kiel in April and Dortmund in May.
Gibson, meanwhile, had in mind “snatching” Searby for his elite new command, but, as fate would have it, the Path Finder Force got to him before he could do so - in “revenge” Gibson poached three other 106 Squadron pilots of repute, including the Australian, Dave Shannon. For his own part, Searby later wrote that he had ‘learned much from Gibson: he was the warrior par excellence yet a humane officer, setting no one a task he could not perform with equal skill and usually better.’
Pathfinder Command
Searby had by now completed an operational tour, but, as related in his wartime memoirs, “Bomber” Harris quickly put paid to any ideas of some well-merited leave:
‘He informed me I was to take command of No. 83 Pathfinder Squadron immediately - to leave Syerston, where I had been very happy, for Wyton, as soon as I could hand over. There was no discussion - no question of my taking the usual end-of-tour leave - and within forty eight hours I took command of 83 Squadron with Air Vice-Marshal Bennett as my new boss. The previous C.O. had been killed over Dortmund a few days earlier ...’
And so it was, as an Acting Wing Commander, that Searby commenced his career as Squadron C.O. in Pathfinders, an appointment that ‘brought a far greater degree of responsiblity’. Indeed No. 83 was one of the four “Founder Squadrons” allotted to Air Vice-Marshal Bennett’s P.F.F. and already had an impressive operational record. Giving his first briefing to the men of his new command on 23 May 1943, that night he led them on a massive strike against Dortmund:
‘Looking down I saw orange and red coloured smoke from many fires, penetrated by the sullen flickers of the bomb bursts. I was glad to pull away from that lot at the end of the bombing run and put the nose of the lethargic ‘O’-Orange in a climbing turn to starboard only to encounter a perfect piece of ‘bracketing’ by six or eight shells from one of the super batteries which the enemy had brought in to reinforce his ground defences. Had we been at a lower altitude they would have got us but the spread of shot at 20,000 feet gave us that little bit of margin which made all the difference between a sudden exit and a return to bacon and eggs at Wyton ...’
Wuppertal followed a week later, where, despite Searby correctly abandoning any ideas of dropping his green back-up indicators as a result of the raid developing into a long, strung out ‘gauntlet effort’, the final results were astonishingly good. As he was shortly to discover, it was for just such decisions made in the heat of battle, that he was to be marked out as the “Master Bomber”. On 15 June 1943, he was appointed an Acting Group Captain, and four days later he took No. 83 Squadron to Montchanin, where, from 4500 feet, near perfect marking was achieved with excellent results, the whole in support of an operation against Le Creusot that same night.
In July Searby led his squadron in attacks on Turin on the 12th and Hamburg on the 24th, the latter operation nearly ending in disaster, when, on coming in to land at Wyton, he was in collision with another Lancaster:
‘Suddenly in the gloom, I saw a great black shape rushing towards me and instantly stuffed the nose of the Lancaster down. He passed overhead striking my mid-upper turret and carrying away the starboard fin and rudder: only a fraction of a second saved us from a full collision and a certain exit from this world ... ’
It was in August that Searby acted as “Master of Ceremonies” for the famous Peenemunde raid, but, earlier that month, on the 7th, as a result of his reputation for being a ‘very calm, sound and steady’ pilot, he acted in a similar capacity for the first time, leading a strike against Turin. It was, as he later said, ‘a rehearsal for something much more important’, a conviction supported by the sudden arrival of a top-brass “passenger”, Group Captain C. D. C. Boyce, Bennett’s Senior Air Staff Officer. Taking-off in pelting rain, after a briefing with Bennett, he was conscious that there were still several unanswered questions in his mind, questions that would have to be addressed by ‘playing it by ear’. In the event, ‘The Italian gunners put up some rotten shooting and the searchlights remained inactive with their beams pointing upwards - abandoned most likely’. Vitally, however, Searby was able to practise using the new VHF air-to-air communication, and, to the amusement of his crew, kept up a running commentary throughout the raid.
An attack on the Fiat works at Milan followed on the 14th, but meanwhile something far bigger had landed on Bennett’s desk - an urgent order to attack the enemy’s secret experimental station at Peenemünde: and to lead the raid as “Master Bomber”, he chose John Searby.
Peenemünde - Master Bomber
‘On the morning of 16th August I was called with my navigator and bomb aimer to Pathfinder Headquarters at Castle Hill House in Huntingdon. I had no idea as to what was in the wind but reporting to the Senior Air Staff Officer, Group Captain Boyce, we were led into a room where Donald Bennett stood examining a model - a large layout with buildings, bordering a section of coastline. The door was firmly closed behind us. Bennett welcolmed us and came immediately to the point. This was a model of something we hoped to bomb in the course of the next day or two - very special and very secret. What we saw in that room was not to be communicated to anyone; we were to commit to memory what we saw on the table and he drew our attention to certain features. It was a factory of some kind - a development centre for special equipment - but the location was not disclosed. He invited us to stay a while and take in any single feature which would enable us to mark the targets - three in number - extending in a rough north-to-south line. That was all - just make a mental picture for future reference because there must be no mistakes when the job came up - it had to be clobbered once and for all ...’ (The Everlasting Arms refers).
Just 24 hours later Searby received warning that No. 83 was to be prepared for a 100% effort that evening, and he was re-summoned to Group H.Q. to meet Bennett. Here he discovered that the model he had seen the previous day was of the enemy experimental station at Peenemünde, and that, to his surprise, he was to act as “Master Bomber” for an attacking force of nearly 600 aircraft, an operation that would entail his presence over the target area for 45 minutes - fifteen minutes for each of the three waves of attacking heavy bombers, their individual targets - as marked by the P.F.F. - being the establishment’s main camp and settlement; the pre-production factories and the development research works. Flak was forecast to be light, but the potential of disaster at the hands of enemy night fighters was great, not least because of a full moon, supposedly a “benefit”. To that end, Mosquitos of No. 139 Squadron were detailed to carry out a “spoof” raid against Berlin at the same time, a ploy that ultimately delayed the arrival of enemy night fighters over Peenemünde by a crucial 30 minutes.
Just an hour or two later, Searby was briefing No. 83 in the presence of Bennett and the Government Minister, Duncan Sandys, a briefing in which he was instructed to warn his aircrew that failure would result in a return visit on the following night - and every other night until the job was done. In fact the importance of the occasion was lost on no-one, let alone Searby, burdened as he shortly would be with the task of correcting any wayward marking and directing each of the three waves of heavy bombers onto their appropriate targets. Not surprisingly, therefore, it was an ‘uneasy period’ between briefing and actual take-off, but shortly before 9 p.m. that evening, the four Merlin engines of his Lancaster - ‘W’-William - roared into action (so christened because ‘William’ was his late father’s second name and augured well): as “Master of Ceremonies” he was first off, but a good two hours flying lay ahead between the English and Danish coasts, beyond which far greater danger lurked over Northern Germany, where Peenemünde nestled in the pine forests on the coastline of Pomarania. Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener, Searby’s Navigator, takes up the story as ‘W’-William arrived over the target:
‘ ... It was clear as a bell. Everything stood out just as shown on the map and on the model I had been shown at Huntingdon. We could see everything - blocks of buildings and open spaces, railway lines when the moon shone on them, little patches of water. The shore line stood out very well. But that soon changed - like a lot of things. The plan had been made and the briefings done and this should have been as simple as pie; but no sooner did we do our first run down the peninsula before the attack opened than I remember seeing those little streams of smoke blowing across the whole area ...’
The subsequent combination of the enemy’s smoke-screen and the ever-increasing inferno created by successive waves of heavy bombers, soon challenged Searby in his unenvious role as “Master Bomber”, as did the eventual opening of enemy flak and the arrival of swarms of night fighters, among the latter being some newly equipped Me. 110s carrying schrage Musik weapons - twin upward firing cannon. Indeed the night fighters eventually brought down 40 bombers, for above the target area, on this deliberately chosen moonlit night, one pilot described it as ‘like daylight’. In his definitive history, The Peenemünde Raid, Martin Middlebrook writes about all of these hazards, and the effect they had on Searby’s direction, while the Air Commodore himself left a vivid description of events in his own memoirs. As Middlebrook states:
‘ ... The cumulative strain of flying over a defended target for more than forty minutes was intense. A German flak ship directly beneath their path gave Searby’s crew a particularly hot time each time the Lancaster circled back for a new run; moreover in the later stages of the attack they ran the same risk as the Main Force crews from the obviously increasing number of German fighters - except the Main Force mostly had to make only one run over Peenemünde before making for home ...’
Searby wrote of his own encounter with one of these night fighters:
‘On our last pass across the target we turned to starboard instead of port saying farewell to the perspiring gunners on the flak ships. Lancaster William was now at the tail end of the stream of returning bombers; the show was over and if we could survive the attentions of enemy fighters for the next couple of hours all would be well. Alas, our hopes were short lived for within a few minutes the battle was on again.
“Rear Gunner to captain - fighter attacking from astern and below,” and I heard the rattle of his four machine-guns in the same instant.
Heaving violently on the controls I brought the Lancaster round in a sharp turn, nose down - and the red tracers shot past without finding us. He was attacking in a climb and the nose down manoeuvre proved more effective than the turn. There was complete silence amongst the crew as we waited for his return and every man took a point of vantage from which he could observe the night sky. The Lancaster was diving, turning and climbing in a corkscrew motion and I expected the attack would come from the dark side, giving the enemy the best possible view of his target in the light of the full moon; a situation which allowed him to open fire at 600 yards if he so wished, well knowing our puny rifle-calibre machine-guns could not match his powerful 20- and 30-millimetre cannon.
The seconds ticked by and the sweat was running from the headband on my flying helmet when I heard Coley’s voice from the mid-upper turret, “Mid-upper to captain: fighter coming in. Starboard quarter down” and I made a sharp turn toward the attacker. Both turrets opened fire and I saw the enemy’s tracer shells pass behind the tail. An excited shout from Flight Lieutenant Coley informed me that he had got in a burst, hitting the fighter, which disappeared. Since we did not see him crash, and this was no time to stay and look for him, we claimed him as damaged. Preece and Coley made a good team and I don’t doubt we owed our escape to their efforts ... the German night fighters had taken a fearful toll of the returning bomber stream ... A Lancaster above and slightly ahead of us was hit and I saw a small bright point of light glow rapidly until the aircraft was entirely visible - illuminated by its own burning fuselage. The fighter struck again and his tracers ploughed through the flaming mass which broke apart and plunged into the sea. A moment or two later another bomber exploded in mid-air ...’
Yet through such horrifying scenes of death and destruction Searby’s faithful Lancaster ‘W’ William emerged unscathed, and he touched down back at Wyton after a flight time of seven and a half hours. He was quick to praise his crew, which in addition to Squadron Leader Norman Scrivener, D.S.O., D.F.C., Flight Lieutenant J. H. Coley and Flying Officer I. W. Preece, C.G.M., D.F.M., included Flying Officer G. Ross, D.F.C. - who fulfilled the vital role of bomb aimer - Flight Lieutenant F. Forster, D.F.C., D.F.M. and Flight Lieutenant L. Davies, D.F.C. Searby also paid generous tribute to the work of his reserve “Master Bombers”, Wing Commanders John White and John Fauquier - the former ‘intervened at a crucial moment and placed his markers near the correct point when other marking was going badly astray’ (It is worth noting that two reserve “Master Bombers” had been appointed because Bomber Command H.Q. did not expect Searby to survive such a long period over the target area). In return, in addition to one of fastest approved D.S.Os on record, Searby was the recipient of numerous glowing testaments of appreciation, typical of which are those quoted by Martin Middlebrook:
‘I was most impressed by the professionalism and ability of the Master Bomber’ (Flying Officer W. S. Day, 90 Squadron)
‘It seemed strange to hear this nice English voice, so calmly telling us what to do. There was an air of English superiority about it. That was very encouraging - it gave the impression that everything was under control - that we had the whole thing buttoned-up. It was also a little eerie though’ (Pilot Officer D. R. Aldridge, 44 Squadron)
‘The fact that someone was there, telling us what to do, was a great morale booster. Normally, you felt that it was an individual effort that you were making but, now, you felt you were part of a combined force and that everything was more organized. I don’t know how he managed to stay so calm; it was just as though he was in a room talking to you - absolutely fantastic’ (Sergeant P. S. Crees, 434 Squadron)
During the raid nearly 1800 tons of high explosive and incendiary bombs had been dropped on the assorted buildings that constituted Peenemünde, as a result of which 180 Germans were killed. More importantly, the resultant loss of equipment and plans set back the V2 rocket plan by an estimated two months, a delay which in the overall scheme of things may well have influenced the final outcome of the War. Less happily, however, around 500 civilian workers - mainly Polish - were killed.
Following Peenemünde, Searby led No. 83 in further strikes against Munich, Modane and Kassel - ‘After the Munich attack of 6th September I was laid up for four days with, appropriately enough, German measles which caused a certain amount of amusement’. Searby also refers to flak bursting within a hundred feet of his Lancaster’s starboard wing tip on the same trip, while on the Kassel run his aircraft was intercepted by a night fighter at the Belgian frontier - ‘where I corkscrewed to such effect that he gave up trying’.
Kassel was Searby’s final operational outing, for he had been contacted 24 hours earlier by Hamish Mahaddie who advised him that ‘the sands were running out’. Appointed C.O. of R.A.F. Warboys, the then Path Finder Force Navigation Training Unit, he was shortly afterwards posted to “Bomber” Harris’s H.Q. at High Wycombe, where his skills and experience as a navigation officer were put to good use for the benefit of both Bomber and Transport Commands. As stated by Martin Middlebrook in his introduction to The Everlasting Arms, this was one of the most interesting periods of Searby’s war, not least because he witnessed first hand ‘the pressure connected with the mounting of daily operations and some of the infighting which took place at that high level.’
The Latter Days
Having attended the R.A.F. Staff College at Haifa in 1946, Searby remained out in the Middle East until returning to a course at the Joint Services Staff College, following which he joined the instructional staff at the Empire Air Armament School at Manby, Lincolnshire. In the early 1950s Searby commanded R.A.F. Hemswell, but afterwards attended a course at the National Defence College in Canada and was thence posted to Washington D.C. as a member of the British Joint Services Mission, this latter appointment involving work on the bomber operational development side.
Returning to the U.K. in late 1956, Searby took over the position of Group Captain Operations at H.Q. Bomber Command, and, on being advanced to Air Commodore, was appointed Director of Operations (Bomber and Reconnaissance) at the Air Ministry. In 1961, however, he retired from the Royal Air Force for personal reasons.
Searby settled in rural Norfolk, where he wrote several books relevant to his wartime experiences, produced three audiotapes to accompany his “Great Raids” series, and gave lectures on similar subjects. Not long before his death in January 1986, aged 72 years, the Air Commodore participated in a video presentation entitled Times Remembered - Master Bomber. In it he was filmed at the controls of a surviving Lancaster, quietly reflecting on times past: “I feel I could fly her right now ... the years just slip by when you climb into one of these things.”
Sold with the following original documentation and photographs:
(a) Warrant for the D.S.O. in the name of ‘John Henry Searby, Esquire, on whom has been conferred the Decoration of the Distinguished Flying Cross, Acting Group Captain in Our Royal Air Force’, dated 17 September 1943 and signed by King George VI and Archibald Sinclair.
(b) Certificate for Mention in Despatches in the name of ‘Group Captain J. H. Searby, D.S.O., D.F.C., Royal Air Force’, and dated 14 June 1945.
(c) R.A.F. Pilot’s Flying Log Book, covering the period October 1936 to August 1940, the latter entries for flights in Blenheims and Ansons of No. 13 Operational Training Unit - as recorded in the introduction to Searby’s posthumously published autobiography, his first flying log book, covering just his initial training in the previous year, was lost.
(d) R.A.F. Pilot’s Flying Log Book, covering the period August 1940 to December 1950, and thus including a complete record of Searby’s wartime career, his operational entries often of a detailed nature, the whole enhanced by several interesting inserts, among them congratulatory messages for successful raids and official letters and statements of commendation for his outstanding skills in the air.
(e) R.A.F. Pilot’s Flying Log Book, covering the period January 1951 to May 1959, his final entries covering an appointment at the Central Flying School at Little Rissington and bringing his total flying hours to well over the 3000 mark, 120 of them on jets.
Share This Page