By LYN HUMPHREYS lyn.humphreys@tnl.co.nz - Taranaki Daily News | Friday, 25 April 2008
Taranaki Returned Servicemen, from left, Graeme Lowe, Peter Beckham, Jack Elliott and Ra Penn cannot see today's Kiwis laying down their lives in defence of the United Kingdom.
The squalor of war shot to hell their ideas about war and adventure. Like so many others, four World War II Taranaki veterans joined the queues for what they hoped was the experience of a lifetime. They weren't disappointed, but it wasn't what they expected. Along with the blood, guts, starvation and thrills came the realisation that a life under German or Japanese rule wasn't worth living.
Four veterans who gathered around the table at the New Plymouth RSA this week were adamant that, given the same circumstances, they would once more join up to fight for king and country.
But they are at odds as to whether New Zealanders today would do the same. They certainly agree that contemporary Kiwis will never feel the same loyalty to Britain that they did nearly 70 years ago.
Don Mander, who's 85, admits that at 20, when he joined the fleet air arm, he was ignorant of the politics that led to the war.
"We didn't even know that Hitler existed," Don admits. "We went for the adventure and to fly."
But it was all too real for 83-year-old Englishman Peter Beckham, who was living with the daily threat of Hitler and his menacing war machine across the channel. The moment Peter turned 18 in 1943, he became part of the massive sign-up of all available Brits, to the consternation of his father.
"My father's battalion was massacred on the Somme in World War I by the bad advice of generals. I'm bloody lucky to be here at all!"
And there was the horror when, as a youngster, he saw World War I veterans marching to London to plead for work and money.
"What a pathetic situation. They send them to war, they risk their lives and then they can't even feed them properly."
Ra Penn, who gives his age as "eighty-bloody-five", says he had a major falling out with his father when he also signed up as a flyboy as soon as his age allowed.
His father, who fought in World War I under General Douglas Haig, had no faith in the incompetent military leadership who had failed to protect their men.
"The old man got shot running up the beach at Gallipoli. He thought war was futile and stupid."
Jack Elliott, a soldier in New Zealand's 25th infantry battalion, experienced first hand as a prisoner of war behind German lines what the options would have been if the Allies lost the war.
"I don't regret it," the 88-year-old says. "It was well worthwhile when you consider what our life would have been either under the Germans or the Japanese."
In joining up, Jack had continued the family tradition. "I had six uncles who fought in World War I. Two didn't make it and four were invalided home wounded."
Jack was captured in North Africa after a series of desert firefights. "We had two wins and a loss that day." He would spend the remaining three-and-a-half years behind the wires.
The experience opened his naive young eyes to the realities of war. "People think that all the people who died were gassed, but they weren't. Many were starved, died of illness, or worked to death. We saw the suppression of the ordinary German people for ourselves. They were too afraid to say or do anything."
The men's hero remains a Stratford man, Lieutenant Colonel William Malone, in command of the Wellington Infantry regiment at Gallipoli during World War I, who died alongside his men on Chunuk Bair in 1915, probably from friendly fire.
Unlike other military leaders, he had tried to conserve the lives of his men and had been the only commander who achieved his objective, they say.
They are frustrated that, despite many entreaties to officialdom, the country has never given Malone the accolade they feel he deserves. "He should have been given the VC posthumously," Peter says.
Ra says the young today would never go to war as they had done.
"A lot wouldn't put a uniform on. It is just the way they are. They don't want to fight for king and country."
Don disagrees. "I think they would go again."
The group has taken heart in the recent outpouring of the younger generations on Anzac Days as they rediscover their grandparents' past.
This year's poppy-sale collection might have been down in numbers with plenty questioning whether the poppies were stolen in the North Shore theft but those who did give were more charitable than in the past.
Ra says he handed out fewer poppies and his collection box was lighter, but that was only because it was filled with notes. Most generous were the young mothers, he says.
They were also delighted to see young kids putting all their pocket money in.
The group is convinced that the dropping of atomic bombs on Japanese cities, which ended the war in the Pacific, was a necessary evil to save the lives of many millions more.
Don says the realisation of what nuclear wars could mean to the world has been an effective preventive from that time on. "There's not been a really big war since then."
The veterans say they are disgusted by the depletion of today's Kiwi armed forces, especially the Labour Government's decision to ditch the Air Force fighter jets.
"We learnt the hard way in World War II that nothing is gained without air cover. And now what do they do? Buy helicopters," says RNZN Malaysian vet Graeme Lowe. "We spend less GDP on defence of any of the Western nations less than one per cent.
"We haven't got a strike force now," Ra says. "The Skyhawks were equal to any fighter in the world. We had the best in the Southern Hemisphere. At least give them equipment. Now they couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag."
Friday, April 25
Mystery as soldier's headstone discovered
By MATT RILKOFF matt.rilkoff@tnl.co.nz - Taranaki Daily News | Friday, 25 April 2008
Emma Crofskey and 5th Battalion Cadre NCO Stephen Muschamp examine the headstone of World War II soldier C.D. King.
Who is C.D. King and why was this old soldier's headstone recovered miles from any cemetery in New Plymouth yesterday?
The headstone of the World War II veteran who died in 1981, aged 67, may have remained hidden for years, had the new owners of the house on Sycamore Gr, where it was found, not decided to whip their property into shape.
Only days after moving in to the house, Joe Govier and Emma Crofskey were clearing their section of debris when they found the headstone among trees and ferns down a steep bank.
"It was just lying there, down the bank, on top of a lot of other rubbish.
"It wasn't like I unearthed it or something. I didn't think it was a grave site. I just thought someone had dumped a headstone," Mr Govier said.
Once they had found it, the couple were stumped as to what to do with it.
After two days, Miss Crofskey decided to call police, who directed her to Stephen Muschamp, Cadre NCO of the 5th Wellington, West Coast and Taranaki Battalion Group.
Mr Muschamp was on the scene in a jiffy and identified it as an RSA headstone, also noting that the usual brass cross inlay had been removed.
He said it was hard to determine how long the headstone had been in the bush, but he would be particularly interested to know just how it had come to be there.
"And I thought, well, on the eve of Anzac Day, what a way to start the day, to recover this headstone of an old soldier," he said.
Graeme Lowe, senior vice-president of the New Plymouth RSA, had a different reaction to the headstone.
"It's from the Te Henui cemetery. You can tell that because of the design, and it's been removed because you can see where it sat in concrete.
"But you know what this reminds me of - it reminds me of what those damn hoods did to the Jewish cemetery in Wellington, and then that other time in Auckland."
He said if the family of C.D. King did not live in Taranaki, they might not know his headstone had been removed.
"He's served with the 2nd NZEF as a driver, and some of them went straight to England when there was the invasion threat, but when that went away after the Battle of Britain, they went into North Africa."
Mr Lowe said he would not like to guess how many old soldiers' graves were at the Te Henui cemetery, but the sexton would be able to give them more details about this particular headstone on Monday.
The headstone reads: 2nd NZEF, 35896 DVR, C.D. King, NZ Army Service Corps, 14-10-1981. Aged 67 years.
Emma Crofskey and 5th Battalion Cadre NCO Stephen Muschamp examine the headstone of World War II soldier C.D. King.
Who is C.D. King and why was this old soldier's headstone recovered miles from any cemetery in New Plymouth yesterday?
The headstone of the World War II veteran who died in 1981, aged 67, may have remained hidden for years, had the new owners of the house on Sycamore Gr, where it was found, not decided to whip their property into shape.
Only days after moving in to the house, Joe Govier and Emma Crofskey were clearing their section of debris when they found the headstone among trees and ferns down a steep bank.
"It was just lying there, down the bank, on top of a lot of other rubbish.
"It wasn't like I unearthed it or something. I didn't think it was a grave site. I just thought someone had dumped a headstone," Mr Govier said.
Once they had found it, the couple were stumped as to what to do with it.
After two days, Miss Crofskey decided to call police, who directed her to Stephen Muschamp, Cadre NCO of the 5th Wellington, West Coast and Taranaki Battalion Group.
Mr Muschamp was on the scene in a jiffy and identified it as an RSA headstone, also noting that the usual brass cross inlay had been removed.
He said it was hard to determine how long the headstone had been in the bush, but he would be particularly interested to know just how it had come to be there.
"And I thought, well, on the eve of Anzac Day, what a way to start the day, to recover this headstone of an old soldier," he said.
Graeme Lowe, senior vice-president of the New Plymouth RSA, had a different reaction to the headstone.
"It's from the Te Henui cemetery. You can tell that because of the design, and it's been removed because you can see where it sat in concrete.
"But you know what this reminds me of - it reminds me of what those damn hoods did to the Jewish cemetery in Wellington, and then that other time in Auckland."
He said if the family of C.D. King did not live in Taranaki, they might not know his headstone had been removed.
"He's served with the 2nd NZEF as a driver, and some of them went straight to England when there was the invasion threat, but when that went away after the Battle of Britain, they went into North Africa."
Mr Lowe said he would not like to guess how many old soldiers' graves were at the Te Henui cemetery, but the sexton would be able to give them more details about this particular headstone on Monday.
The headstone reads: 2nd NZEF, 35896 DVR, C.D. King, NZ Army Service Corps, 14-10-1981. Aged 67 years.
Creating list a huge effort
By PETER BINGHAM peter.bingham@tnl.co.nz - Taranaki Daily News | Friday, 25 April 2008
Jack Elliott has never forgotten the mates he lost at war. And their memory has inspired him to labour at a task for the past 10 years that no one else has been prepared to do.
The 88-year-old painstakingly compiled the list that appears on the front page and page two of today's edition of all the Taranaki men and women who lost their lives in World War I (1251), World War II (793), Korea (1) and Vietnam (2). It has been a protracted effort of patience and endeavour to verify and log the names of the 2047 who died in service.
"I started compiling a list for the Inglewood RSA and that sort of got me going. There were a lot I knew from Inglewood who went away [in WWII] and quite a few schoolmates from New Plymouth Boys' High School who didn't come back. That inspired me."
He has taken names from cemeteries, churches, memorials, school and hall honours boards, researched books and sought information from the National Archives and the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
"I reckon my list is about 95 per cent, maybe 99 per cent, accurate. It is vital something is done because more and more honours boards and memorials are being lost as schools close and country halls come down. It would be good if all these names are put up in one block in a place like Puke Ariki. There is only a bit of fine-tuning left to do." Not every Taranaki person who served and died would be on his list.
"For example, a lot of Taranaki men served in the RAF and were regarded as members of the British forces and are on their rolls of honour." He has also compiled a list of all who died in the Taranaki Wars and the Boer War.
Jack added a year to his age and listed his job as shop assistant when he signed up. "I was only 20 and was a chemist's apprentice in Inglewood. A chemist was a reserved occupation [exempt from service], so I had to change that."
He joined the 25th Infantry Battalion and served in Greece and Libya before being captured and sent to Italy.
"We should have been released when armistice was declared in Italy, but the commandant was a fascist and held us until the Germans arrived."
They were shipped to Poland to work in a heavy machinery factory where a number of them, including Jack, trained as fitters and turners and as gas and electrical welders.
"We knew what they were up to and when they lined us up to make parts for their tanks and 88mm guns, we cited the Geneva Convention at them. They were not happy, called us swine Englanders, then loaded us on to the rattler [train] and sent us off to our next job."
Jack Elliott has never forgotten the mates he lost at war. And their memory has inspired him to labour at a task for the past 10 years that no one else has been prepared to do.
The 88-year-old painstakingly compiled the list that appears on the front page and page two of today's edition of all the Taranaki men and women who lost their lives in World War I (1251), World War II (793), Korea (1) and Vietnam (2). It has been a protracted effort of patience and endeavour to verify and log the names of the 2047 who died in service.
"I started compiling a list for the Inglewood RSA and that sort of got me going. There were a lot I knew from Inglewood who went away [in WWII] and quite a few schoolmates from New Plymouth Boys' High School who didn't come back. That inspired me."
He has taken names from cemeteries, churches, memorials, school and hall honours boards, researched books and sought information from the National Archives and the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
"I reckon my list is about 95 per cent, maybe 99 per cent, accurate. It is vital something is done because more and more honours boards and memorials are being lost as schools close and country halls come down. It would be good if all these names are put up in one block in a place like Puke Ariki. There is only a bit of fine-tuning left to do." Not every Taranaki person who served and died would be on his list.
"For example, a lot of Taranaki men served in the RAF and were regarded as members of the British forces and are on their rolls of honour." He has also compiled a list of all who died in the Taranaki Wars and the Boer War.
Jack added a year to his age and listed his job as shop assistant when he signed up. "I was only 20 and was a chemist's apprentice in Inglewood. A chemist was a reserved occupation [exempt from service], so I had to change that."
He joined the 25th Infantry Battalion and served in Greece and Libya before being captured and sent to Italy.
"We should have been released when armistice was declared in Italy, but the commandant was a fascist and held us until the Germans arrived."
They were shipped to Poland to work in a heavy machinery factory where a number of them, including Jack, trained as fitters and turners and as gas and electrical welders.
"We knew what they were up to and when they lined us up to make parts for their tanks and 88mm guns, we cited the Geneva Convention at them. They were not happy, called us swine Englanders, then loaded us on to the rattler [train] and sent us off to our next job."
With flying colours
By HELEN HARVEY helen.harvey@tnl.co.nz - Taranaki Daily News | Friday, 25 April 2008
Allan George and his wife of more than 60 years, Frances, have nine children.
The picture couldn't possibly tell the story. It's a black-and-white photo at Allan George's Manaia home. It shows two young men, both in uniform, standing in front of a plane. By the look of the aircraft and the uniform, it is reasonable to assume it is World War II.
And even though Mr George is 90 now, it is easy to pick him out. But the picture only hints of the danger, the friendships and the reckless disregard. It doesn't tell of events so painful they bring tears more than 60 years later.
And it doesn't tell of two medals the Distinguished Flying Medal (DFM) and the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) awarded for bravery.
Mr George, a pilot, received the DFC after "an episode" when his Wellington bomber got "awfully shot up" dropping bombs over the Ruhr.
"My poor old rear gunner got his bum shot away. Screaming his head off, we had to pull him out of the rear turret, blood from hell to breakfast."
First a fuel pipe was severed then a fighter plane came in and shot the motor out.
"It was a miracle we never blew up, because the plane flooded with fuel."
Petrol was gushing everywhere, so an Englishman, Viv Broad, the wireless operator, bandaged up the pipe and contained the petrol. The Wellington was struggling on one motor and losing height.
"The crew said `can we bail out?' I said `hell no'."
It wasn't a good idea to bail out over the target. The searchlights would shine on the parachutes and the German gunners would shoot the parachutes down.
Mr George told his crew to hang on until they reached the coast. Once there, they still had a bit of height, so limped across the sea and crash-landed at an airfield just inside England.
By the time the rear gunner got out of hospital, he had been replaced, so the gunner joined another crew. He was shot down over Hamburg.
Altogether, Mr George flew 73 operations, 21 as a Pathfinder.
The Pathfinders were the elite.
They were the top pilots and navigators from the RAF's Bomber Command. Each one had to have completed at least one tour of operations a tour equalled 30 bombing missions. And they had to volunteer.
By 1943, Bomber Command was huge, so there were plenty to fly the missions. However, the difficulty, because of the European weather, was to find the target, he says.
"At this time, scientists had developed decent radio aids, which allowed us to become more precise. And it was realised that those of us who had done a tour of operations ... were very experienced men."
The Pathfinders flew Mosquitoes and flew ahead of the bombers. Each Mosquito carried a pilot, a navigator, flares to indicate the targets to the following bombers, and one 4000lb bomb. They had to prove, with a photo, that they had hit the target.
There was some delinquency, Mr George says blokes who were LMF (lack of moral fibre) and didn't go over the target, dropping flares and bombs anywhere.
"It was equivalent to a soldier going over the top. You knew you had to go through that barrier of flak.
There would be hundreds of bombers flying behind the Pathfinders, so they had to hit the target on time, otherwise it increased the risk of collisions.
"It was equivalent to rush hour in Auckland."
There was an 80% fatality rate for the bombing missions. For the Pathfinders, it was 90%.
That was the butcher's bill that had to be paid every night, he says.
For the extra danger, Pathfinders got extra rank.
Mr George was in 139 Squadron, which was unique, because there were 16 nationalities among the aircrew.
"They were a remarkable gang of burglars."
The squadron's purpose was to bomb Berlin. It was the most difficult target of the war, being the most defended target in Germany. Hitler boasted that no bomb would fall on Berlin, Mr George says. In March and April 1945, the RAF hit the city night after night after night.
"The idea was we had to do nothing but bomb Berlin for 50 nights in a row."
They stopped at 36 because the butcher's bill was too high and the RAF needed to build up reserves.
Aircrew worked two nights on, one night off.
Hitler surrounded Berlin with searchlights and moved in the fighter jets.
"The jets were at 40,000ft. We were at 30,000ft. They came down on us and picked us off."
Hitler was so upset at the Pathfinders' success at highlighting the targets that he ordered that any Pathfinder shot down was to be killed.
The last time Bomber Command attacked Berlin was April 20, 1945.
"There were thousands of Russian guns all the way from the Baltic Coast, down as far as you could see to the south, and that barrage kept going until the second of May and Berlin surrendered.
"April 20 was the only night there were no fighters or no flak at us. Everything on the ground was aimed at the Russians."
The butcher's bill for Bomber Command aircrew in World War II was 55,000. There were also 20,000 wounded and 12,000 taken prisoner.
"We never thought of more than today." It was said that airmen were only concerned with wine, women and song, he says.
"We didn't give a monkey's stuff for anything."
They did some stupid things, got up to all sorts of mischief, were a wild bunch.
"Every night we used to say `well, I hope it's quick'."
There wasn't much lingering.
"We'd stop a hit from flak and, with our load, would blow up. It was instant. You'd just vaporise."
One thing they used to say was they didn't want to know when their last raid would be.
But on May 2, they were called to a meeting.
"They said, `well, boys, there's one target left Kiel. You've got to go. Get home tonight and you are through the war.' That was ..."
Mr George stops, his voice breaking. He gets his hanky out and wipes his eyes.
"... the most terrible parade of the lot. You can understand I never go there. It's too upsetting."
He stops for a bit.
"I can't talk about it. We always used to say we didn't want to know which was the last raid. You get home tonight, you're through the war. You could've heard a pin drop. I don't go there."
He has recorded his last flight in his logbook, as he recorded all his flights. In neat, precise handwriting.
"May 2, 1945. Last of European war. Very good raid.
"The fighters were up and they had a bit of a mix up with us."
Berlin surrendered the same day.
After the trip to Kiel, every aeroplane in the Royal Air Force was grounded.
"They opened the bar and we got drunk."
The bar stayed open all night and the next morning, there was a huge parade. The airmen were still drunk.
"When the old parson said, We'll bow our head and give thanks to the Almighty, most of us fell over."
The logbook is one of Mr George's most prized possessions. Inside it is a piece of cloth covered in writing in English and in Russian and a Union Jack. It is called a blood chit.
Mr George carried it in his raids over Berlin.
"It guarantees a reward for not taking a life ... so if we were damaged, we could land behind Russian lines instead of the long flight home. The Russians, of course, would shoot anything. They were the most ill-disciplined bastards in the world."
It was a long way from the farm in Manaia where Mr George had grown up.
He volunteered when the call went out for air crew in 1940 and went to the RNZAF aircrew training school in Levin, then to New Plymouth at Bell Block. It's not where the airport is now, he says, it was across the road.
At the time it was the biggest corrugated iron building in the world. It burnt down later.
Mr George learned to fly for two months, then went to Ohakea and learned to fly twin-engine aircraft before going to England for more training.
First he went to Lossiemouth in the Moray Firth for a conversion course on Wellington bombers, then to 115 Squadron in Norfolk and straight into operations over Germany. By this time, it was 1941.
He got his first medal, the DFM, for flying a Wellington bomber especially fitted with a Rolls Royce motor.
"They brought out this big bomb, 4000 pounder, and they made a special plane to carry it and I was the pilot who flew it."
He dropped it on Hamburg.
Both his medals were presented to him by King George VI at receptions at Buckingham Palace.
On one of the visits to the palace, he remembers getting an urgent call of nature.
"We had all had a pretty heavy night on the booze. In a long line waiting to be introduced to the King, I said to one of the stately ushers, Mate, where's the toilet?"
The footman looked at him with disdain.
"We were just uncouth pig-islanders."
In the end, Mr George said to him, "Mate, I want to piss."
He followed the footman up and down the corridors until they got to the toilet.
"Well, you wouldn't believe it. It was on a dais. It had armrests. Having used it, being polite and a well-trained boy, where's the chain? There was no flush. There was a bloody great lever. You got hold of it and pulled it.
"I went back and told the other pilots in the line, Hey, go to the toilet it's a bloody beaut. They all went."
As well as flying bombers, Mr George had a stint as a flying instructor and at one point he was posted back to New Zealand for a couple of months "to sort out a discipline school at Delta [just out of Woodbourne] which had mutinied, but they never used the word mutinied. They had gone on strike. I came back from England and sorted it out. I went straight back to England and went on Pathfinders."
He wasn't brave, he says, he was doing what he had to do. And he wasn't scared there wasn't time. He was too busy thinking about what he was doing, flying the plane, looking for searchlights, looking for the target, dodging the flak, dodging the fighter jets.
"I've had lumps of shrapnel just miss me, been shot at, had a fighter take me on over Berlin and miss ...
"A piece of flak was buried in behind my head I must have been leaning forward, or it would have cut my head off.
"I always say to this day I never worry about not getting Lotto. I've had all the luck in the world."
Allan George and his wife of more than 60 years, Frances, have nine children.
The picture couldn't possibly tell the story. It's a black-and-white photo at Allan George's Manaia home. It shows two young men, both in uniform, standing in front of a plane. By the look of the aircraft and the uniform, it is reasonable to assume it is World War II.
And even though Mr George is 90 now, it is easy to pick him out. But the picture only hints of the danger, the friendships and the reckless disregard. It doesn't tell of events so painful they bring tears more than 60 years later.
And it doesn't tell of two medals the Distinguished Flying Medal (DFM) and the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) awarded for bravery.
Mr George, a pilot, received the DFC after "an episode" when his Wellington bomber got "awfully shot up" dropping bombs over the Ruhr.
"My poor old rear gunner got his bum shot away. Screaming his head off, we had to pull him out of the rear turret, blood from hell to breakfast."
First a fuel pipe was severed then a fighter plane came in and shot the motor out.
"It was a miracle we never blew up, because the plane flooded with fuel."
Petrol was gushing everywhere, so an Englishman, Viv Broad, the wireless operator, bandaged up the pipe and contained the petrol. The Wellington was struggling on one motor and losing height.
"The crew said `can we bail out?' I said `hell no'."
It wasn't a good idea to bail out over the target. The searchlights would shine on the parachutes and the German gunners would shoot the parachutes down.
Mr George told his crew to hang on until they reached the coast. Once there, they still had a bit of height, so limped across the sea and crash-landed at an airfield just inside England.
By the time the rear gunner got out of hospital, he had been replaced, so the gunner joined another crew. He was shot down over Hamburg.
Altogether, Mr George flew 73 operations, 21 as a Pathfinder.
The Pathfinders were the elite.
They were the top pilots and navigators from the RAF's Bomber Command. Each one had to have completed at least one tour of operations a tour equalled 30 bombing missions. And they had to volunteer.
By 1943, Bomber Command was huge, so there were plenty to fly the missions. However, the difficulty, because of the European weather, was to find the target, he says.
"At this time, scientists had developed decent radio aids, which allowed us to become more precise. And it was realised that those of us who had done a tour of operations ... were very experienced men."
The Pathfinders flew Mosquitoes and flew ahead of the bombers. Each Mosquito carried a pilot, a navigator, flares to indicate the targets to the following bombers, and one 4000lb bomb. They had to prove, with a photo, that they had hit the target.
There was some delinquency, Mr George says blokes who were LMF (lack of moral fibre) and didn't go over the target, dropping flares and bombs anywhere.
"It was equivalent to a soldier going over the top. You knew you had to go through that barrier of flak.
There would be hundreds of bombers flying behind the Pathfinders, so they had to hit the target on time, otherwise it increased the risk of collisions.
"It was equivalent to rush hour in Auckland."
There was an 80% fatality rate for the bombing missions. For the Pathfinders, it was 90%.
That was the butcher's bill that had to be paid every night, he says.
For the extra danger, Pathfinders got extra rank.
Mr George was in 139 Squadron, which was unique, because there were 16 nationalities among the aircrew.
"They were a remarkable gang of burglars."
The squadron's purpose was to bomb Berlin. It was the most difficult target of the war, being the most defended target in Germany. Hitler boasted that no bomb would fall on Berlin, Mr George says. In March and April 1945, the RAF hit the city night after night after night.
"The idea was we had to do nothing but bomb Berlin for 50 nights in a row."
They stopped at 36 because the butcher's bill was too high and the RAF needed to build up reserves.
Aircrew worked two nights on, one night off.
Hitler surrounded Berlin with searchlights and moved in the fighter jets.
"The jets were at 40,000ft. We were at 30,000ft. They came down on us and picked us off."
Hitler was so upset at the Pathfinders' success at highlighting the targets that he ordered that any Pathfinder shot down was to be killed.
The last time Bomber Command attacked Berlin was April 20, 1945.
"There were thousands of Russian guns all the way from the Baltic Coast, down as far as you could see to the south, and that barrage kept going until the second of May and Berlin surrendered.
"April 20 was the only night there were no fighters or no flak at us. Everything on the ground was aimed at the Russians."
The butcher's bill for Bomber Command aircrew in World War II was 55,000. There were also 20,000 wounded and 12,000 taken prisoner.
"We never thought of more than today." It was said that airmen were only concerned with wine, women and song, he says.
"We didn't give a monkey's stuff for anything."
They did some stupid things, got up to all sorts of mischief, were a wild bunch.
"Every night we used to say `well, I hope it's quick'."
There wasn't much lingering.
"We'd stop a hit from flak and, with our load, would blow up. It was instant. You'd just vaporise."
One thing they used to say was they didn't want to know when their last raid would be.
But on May 2, they were called to a meeting.
"They said, `well, boys, there's one target left Kiel. You've got to go. Get home tonight and you are through the war.' That was ..."
Mr George stops, his voice breaking. He gets his hanky out and wipes his eyes.
"... the most terrible parade of the lot. You can understand I never go there. It's too upsetting."
He stops for a bit.
"I can't talk about it. We always used to say we didn't want to know which was the last raid. You get home tonight, you're through the war. You could've heard a pin drop. I don't go there."
He has recorded his last flight in his logbook, as he recorded all his flights. In neat, precise handwriting.
"May 2, 1945. Last of European war. Very good raid.
"The fighters were up and they had a bit of a mix up with us."
Berlin surrendered the same day.
After the trip to Kiel, every aeroplane in the Royal Air Force was grounded.
"They opened the bar and we got drunk."
The bar stayed open all night and the next morning, there was a huge parade. The airmen were still drunk.
"When the old parson said, We'll bow our head and give thanks to the Almighty, most of us fell over."
The logbook is one of Mr George's most prized possessions. Inside it is a piece of cloth covered in writing in English and in Russian and a Union Jack. It is called a blood chit.
Mr George carried it in his raids over Berlin.
"It guarantees a reward for not taking a life ... so if we were damaged, we could land behind Russian lines instead of the long flight home. The Russians, of course, would shoot anything. They were the most ill-disciplined bastards in the world."
It was a long way from the farm in Manaia where Mr George had grown up.
He volunteered when the call went out for air crew in 1940 and went to the RNZAF aircrew training school in Levin, then to New Plymouth at Bell Block. It's not where the airport is now, he says, it was across the road.
At the time it was the biggest corrugated iron building in the world. It burnt down later.
Mr George learned to fly for two months, then went to Ohakea and learned to fly twin-engine aircraft before going to England for more training.
First he went to Lossiemouth in the Moray Firth for a conversion course on Wellington bombers, then to 115 Squadron in Norfolk and straight into operations over Germany. By this time, it was 1941.
He got his first medal, the DFM, for flying a Wellington bomber especially fitted with a Rolls Royce motor.
"They brought out this big bomb, 4000 pounder, and they made a special plane to carry it and I was the pilot who flew it."
He dropped it on Hamburg.
Both his medals were presented to him by King George VI at receptions at Buckingham Palace.
On one of the visits to the palace, he remembers getting an urgent call of nature.
"We had all had a pretty heavy night on the booze. In a long line waiting to be introduced to the King, I said to one of the stately ushers, Mate, where's the toilet?"
The footman looked at him with disdain.
"We were just uncouth pig-islanders."
In the end, Mr George said to him, "Mate, I want to piss."
He followed the footman up and down the corridors until they got to the toilet.
"Well, you wouldn't believe it. It was on a dais. It had armrests. Having used it, being polite and a well-trained boy, where's the chain? There was no flush. There was a bloody great lever. You got hold of it and pulled it.
"I went back and told the other pilots in the line, Hey, go to the toilet it's a bloody beaut. They all went."
As well as flying bombers, Mr George had a stint as a flying instructor and at one point he was posted back to New Zealand for a couple of months "to sort out a discipline school at Delta [just out of Woodbourne] which had mutinied, but they never used the word mutinied. They had gone on strike. I came back from England and sorted it out. I went straight back to England and went on Pathfinders."
He wasn't brave, he says, he was doing what he had to do. And he wasn't scared there wasn't time. He was too busy thinking about what he was doing, flying the plane, looking for searchlights, looking for the target, dodging the flak, dodging the fighter jets.
"I've had lumps of shrapnel just miss me, been shot at, had a fighter take me on over Berlin and miss ...
"A piece of flak was buried in behind my head I must have been leaning forward, or it would have cut my head off.
"I always say to this day I never worry about not getting Lotto. I've had all the luck in the world."
Tuesday, April 1
Rain
Heavy rain means water restrictions around Taranaki have been eased and fire bans relaxed.
South Taranaki District Council spokesman Neil McCann says the weekend rain was enough to replenish the district's streams and rivers.
"Thankfully much of the weekend's rain fell where it was needed most, with more than 50mm around Hawera and Patea," Mr McCann said.
"The rain has allowed us to ease the restrictions and if we get some more over the next week or so we may be able to remove it completely."
South Taranaki District Council spokesman Neil McCann says the weekend rain was enough to replenish the district's streams and rivers.
"Thankfully much of the weekend's rain fell where it was needed most, with more than 50mm around Hawera and Patea," Mr McCann said.
"The rain has allowed us to ease the restrictions and if we get some more over the next week or so we may be able to remove it completely."
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