Raymond Edward Finch (1917-1941).
My great-uncle.
Raymond was born during the First World War and died tragically young during the Second as an RAF pilot with Bomber Command.
He was born to parents Walter Finch and Annie Budgen in Bynes Road, Croydon, Surrey, on 3 September 1917, their youngest child. He grew up with them as they moved their family business, a bakery, to Brighton Road in South Croydon. He then went out to work and was described as an order clerk at a silk warehouse on his flying certificate, which he gained on 23 August 1939 at Redhill Flying Club on a DeHavilland DH 60 Gipsy Moth.
Raymond was doubtless one of those men who, before the war, was attracted by the romance and excitement of flight but whether that was civilian or military is unknown. He enlisted with the RAF Volunteer Reserve on 20 November 1939 (service number 907613) a few months after the outbreak of the Second World War and after the predictable medical and aptitude tests. His service record shows that he began his RAF career in No 1 Reserve Command as an Aircraftsman Second Class. By June 1940 he had been sent to the No 3 Initial Training Wing, where the serious training began and he would’ve attended numerous lectures on such subjects as flight, navigation, maths, law and aircraft identification, and spent hours square bashing and in physical training. This period of training usually lasted four-six weeks. The school was in St Leonards, Sussex, but moved to Torquay in Devon around the time Raymond was with them. Three months later he was with the 50th General Reconnaissance Pool.
On the 5 August 1940 he was promoted to Leading Aircraftman and that summer and autumn he undertook further training with the 10th and 18th Elementary Flying Training Schools, where students were usually put through their paces on Tiger Moths, and the 15th Flying Training School where the men were trained on more advanced aircraft types. The records show that he transferred on 23 December 1940 to No 11 Operational Training Unit (OTU), which had been formed in 1940 as part of No 6 Group RAF Bomber Command at RAF Bassingbourn in Cambridgeshire to train night bomber aircrew. OTUs took individually trained aircrew and formed them into a bomber crew but rather than being picked by their teachers these crews were normally left to find themselves, drawn together by attitude and personality. It was hoped that this natural approach would create durable and resilient crews, able to work together and trust each other in the most extreme of circumstances. It’s also worth remembering that training wasn’t without its risks – indeed, many trainee pilots and crews lost their lives as they worked to perfect their flying skills.
After his extensive training, Raymond (now a Sergeant Pilot having been promoted on 14 December 1940) and his freshmen crew found themselves posted to 218 Squadron at RAF Marham in Norfolk, arriving on 1 April 1941. It was also known as No 218 (Gold Coast) Squadron after the British colony that adopted it and had spent the first half of 1940 in France, equipped with ageing Fairey Battles. After returning to Britain in June of that year it was re-equipped with Bristol Blenheims and then Vickers Wellingtons, the aircraft that Raymond would fly with his commander Sgt William Swain of the Royal New Zealand Air Force and his crewmen Sgt Malcolm Crooks and Sgt James Clark, also both of the RNZAF, and Sgt Victor Lloyd and Sgt Geoffrey Molyneaux, both of the RAF Volunteer Reserve.. The Wellington was a twin-engined bomber, nicknamed Wimpy, had forward and tail turret gun positions as well as a further position in its belly and was numbingly cold to fly.
Some days at Marham were reasonably uneventful, the crews carrying out training sorties and engine tests, flying local circuits and landings. On several occasions the crews were briefed on nighttime operations, only for them to be cancelled by commanders of 3 Group – of which 218 Squadron was a part. At other times the crew would’ve relaxed in the mess, in the local pubs or would’ve driven into nearby towns and cities.
Raymond would’ve been acutely conscious of his potential fate, for bomber crew losses were notoriously high from the start of the war. The men invariably adopted a fatalistic attitude to the future, aware that their chances of survival were slim. They would, no doubt, have hoped to make it through their initial posting, which would involve something like 30 missions, before being rested and sent to undertake other duties, but equally they knew that many didn’t make it that far. Early in the war in particular, daylight raids with little or no fighter cover saw squadrons decimated. By the time Raymond joined 218 Squadron this policy had been discredited but German anti-aircraft defences were impressive and their fighter aircraft had a well-deserved reputation for effectiveness. At night the crews feared being picked out by searchlights, making them an easy target for the colourful but potentially lethal anti-aircraft fire (or flak) and German fighters, so they practised many ways of evading them.
Raymond’s first operational flight with the squadron was on the night of 6/7 April, with two other freshmen crews from his squadron. With his commander Sgt Swain, he would’ve attended the mission briefing that afternoon, which revealed that the target was the docks at Calais in German-controlled northern France. The briefings were followed by suiting up, the crew ensuring they had their parachutes, Mae West life belts and other necessities for long hours in the night sky. They took off in Wellington P9299 at about 8.10pm but visibility was poor – cloud cover reported to be 10/10 – and so they decided against dropping their bombs. Others on the mission succeeded in releasing theirs but could not say whether they’d hit their mark. Their comparatively short mission was over within hours and Raymond landed at 11.40pm. The two other crews returned safely.
The following night the docks at Kiel in northern Germany were the target with Raymond and his crew taking off in the same aircraft as the previous night in fine weather at 10.50pm. They joined nine other aircraft from 218 Squadron, part of a fleet totalling 229 aircraft, and successfully dropped their bombs on what was one of the Nazis’ most important naval bases and shipbuilding centres, but encountered moderate flak and searchlight activity during the raid. Several fierce fires were reported as a result of the attack. Raymond landed safely at 5.50am and all the other 218 crews made it home too, although Flying Officer Agar’s aircraft was hit several times by enemy fighters and flak, putting the rear turret out of action and forcing the pilots to fly home at ground level. This was the largest raid to one target so far in the war.
Raymond’s next mission was on the night of 10/11 April and was designed to target enemy battleships and the docks at Brest in France. The nine crews from 218 Squadron were part of a mission involving 53 aircraft, Raymond and his team taking off in Wellington R1597 at 7.25pm. The crew reported no obvious direct hits from the seven 500lb bombs they dropped over Brittany and landed back at base at 1.10am. Other bombers did hit the target. Later Raymond would learn that the crew of Sgt John Brown was missing, last heard of when an SOS message was sent. It’s thought they were lost when the plane crashed into the sea off Brest.
The night after, Raymond and his crew were unable to take part in bombing raids as their aircraft had a faulty front turret.
On the night of the 16/17 April 218 Squadron’s target was Bremen, an important base for shipbuilding and aircraft and steel manufacture. Nine aircraft set out, joining 96 others in the raid, but those who made the distance reported heavy cloud making it difficult to judge how accurate the bombing had been. Some dropped their bombs over Emdem in north-west Germany, a city with an important shipyard, as an alternative. All the 218 aircraft returned home with Raymond’s crew – in Wellington T2887 – reporting their bombs falling on the target area despite experiencing heavy and accurate flak and considerable searchlight activity. Flight Lt Shaw’s crew reported being attacked on the way out by a Junkers 88 but the rear gunner thought he’d hit it in return. Raids due on the 18th were cancelled because of bad weather.
Raymond died on 22/23 April 1941 aged just 23 when his aircraft – Wellington L7798 – was hit by anti-aircraft fire and came down in the Lanrivoaré commune in Brittany. All on board Raymond’s plane were killed apart from gunner Sgt Clarke. They were on another operation to Brest, the key port in Finistere and vital for the Nazis in terms of Atlantic operations. At the time two famous battle cruisers, the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, were docked there and were among the targets, according to the Weekly Resume sent to the War Cabinet. In fact, RAF Bomber Command had committed considerable resources in the early part of the war into trying to destroy these two vessels with little success. The total force was made up of 24 Wellingtons, including six others from 218 Squadron, and two Stirlings. The squadron operations book said this: “Altogether a very bad night, but most of the crews reached and bombed the target.”
I am indebted to Gildas Saouzanet, who has done an incredible job of excavating the sites of crashed wartime aircraft in Brittany and uncovering the stories of those involved with his friends, as well as publishing their stories. Gildas has kindly shared his information about the crash site and the final moments of Raymond and his men. He was able to locate a diary kept by a member of the de Taisne family at the Château de Kervéatoux at Plouarzel, just over three miles from the crash site. She wrote of the crash of L7798: “Very hard flak in the evening. An English plane passes low above us, caught in the spotlight, and the batteries firing at it from all sides. Then we no longer heard the plane and the shooting suddenly stopped! Plane fell on the side of Milizac-Lanrivoaré. Five airmen were reportedly killed (buried on the 24th).”
Reports on the crash held at the National Archives state: “Several other crews … reported seeing an aircraft held in a cone of searchlights over Brest, which appeared to be hit by flak, and which subsequently went down out of control. The aircraft was followed down by searchlights to a height of about 1,000ft, and though not actually observed to crash, must be presumed to have done so, as it was still out of control at such a low altitude. It is thought that this must be L7798.”
Gildas says the likelihood from the evidence on the ground is that the plane didn’t nose-dive and that one or both of the pilots – or other crew – were trying to control the damaged aircraft before it crash-landed in a field, hitting the ground close to an embankment where several parts were found. It then hit an embankment where he found two rocker arms in a broken aluminium tube, crossed a road and ended its run in another embankment in another field. The owner of the second field told Gildas that they had once found ammunition belts at the site. There is no way of knowing whether any of the men were dead before they hit the ground but if they were alive, I can’t begin to imagine the fear they must’ve experienced as their plane hurtled towards the ground…
Gildas has another account from the aftermath of the crash, written by a local woman: “We heard a loud noise in the middle of the night, around 5 o’clock [note that the incident happened several hours earlier than this]. We then lived in Coatevez in Milizac. Around 9am … my mother and I are on the road leading from Milizac to Lanrivoaré, near Pont ar Glud, because we had to cut gorse for horses. Shortly after passing this hamlet, we see the scattered remains of an airplane, and in the ditch at the side of the road lie the bodies of two airmen. One of them is a handsome blond boy. A German soldier stands guard over a third body three feet away. The aircraft crossed the road and came to a stop at the bottom of the field. Pieces of sheets of metal are everywhere.”
Gildas and his friends have recovered several pieces of the aircraft but he suggests that much of it would’ve been taken away by the German authorities for recycling, perhaps to build new aircraft.
Raymond’s aircraft was one of the two squadron Wellingtons that were lost that night on a mission during which all the crews experienced heavy anti-aircraft fire and searchlight activity. Sgt Adam and his crew bailed out after running out of fuel near King’s Lynn in Norfolk and all survived, although several suffered sprained ankles. Fog meant other crews had to divert when returning England.
So who were Raymond’s friends on that fateful night?
Sgt William Henry Swain, the commander (pictured above), was born in Napier, New Zealand, and was educated at Masterton Technical College. He flew with the Wairarapa and Ruahine Aero Club and was an RNZAF Civil Reserve Pilot before the war. He enlisted in February 1940 as an Airman Pilot and trained at No 1 Elementary Flying Training School at Taieri and No 1 Flying Training School at Wigram, being awarded his wings in August and leaving the next month for the UK. The Auckland Star of 18 January 1941 reported that he was one of about 100 New Zealand men who’d stopped at a Canadian port en route for England and active service. They went ashore for a game of rugby, which the Air Force side won over the Navy by just one point. William had played for the Masterton club back in his home country so was a useful addition to the team. Like the families of his crew, Swain’s parents Arthur and Dora spent months in limbo after the plane crashed, unsure whether their son had died. By 22 August 1941 the Gisborne Herald in New Zealand was reporting that Swain and his men were presumed dead. His body was exhumed in a 1946 examination of the graves by the RAF and details in the archives show he had suffered severe burns in the crash.
Sgt (Obs) Malcolm Bruce Crooks (pictured above) was the crew’s Observer/Navigator. He was born in Wellington, New Zealand, in 1916 and grew up in a boy’s home in New Zealand, although the Commonwealth War Graves Commission give his parents’ names as Douglas and Daisy Crooks. The country’s Evening Post of 31 October 1941 reported on the annual meeting of the Wellington Presbyterian Orphanage and Social Service Association. This included: “Great regret was expressed at the death of Sergeant Malcolm Crooks, RNZAF, the first of the old boys of the Boys’ Home to die for his country. He entered the home at the age of two and finally passed matriculation at Wellington College. At the outbreak of war he was engaged in accountancy work.”
Sgt Geoffrey Molyneaux (pictured above) called Surrey Drive in Bury, Lancashire, home at the time of his death according to the Manchester Evening News of 20 June 1941. The report stated that the air gunner and wireless operator was missing in action. Born in 1919 to parents cabinet maker Fred Molyneaux and Alice Greenhalgh, he was described as a good athlete in the newspaper and spent part of his youth in Canada. The family had sailed from Liverpool on the Laurentic in May 1928 and the records suggest they were seeking to settle there permanently. The records include the name of Fred’s Collingwood cousins in St Catherine’s, Ontario, and it’s possible they went to live with or near them. The Molyneauxs returned in May 1933 on the same vessel and remained in Britain. Geoffrey married Joan Veevers in 1940, just a few months before his death. When his body was exhumed for examination in 1946, he was found with a gold ring with the initials GM engraved on it. His jaw was broken.
Sgt Victor Marshall Raymond Lloyd, a wireless operator and air gunner, was aged 21 at his death and the son of George and Alice Lloyd of Suckley in Worcestershire. He was born in the county in 1920.
Sgt James ‘Jimmy’ Clark was the only member of the crew who survived. According to 218 Squadron Historian Steve Smith in his book ‘From St Vith to Victory: 218 (Gold Coast) Squadron and the Campaign Against Nazi Germany’, Clark was the rear gunner. He was born in Glasgow, Scotland, on 5 June 20 but his family later emigrated to New Zealand. It’s thought he bailed out as the aircraft came down, going on the run to escape the Germans and taking refuge with friendly locals despite huge risks to their safety. The de Taisne diary records that Clark “was able to get away and wander around, then hidden in the farm of Kérastel… Everyone is aware of his presence! He left the farm on Saturday 26th and was seen on a farm in Plouarzel on the 27th…” Captured a month after the crash, he became a prisoner of war at Stalag 357 Kopernikus at Thorn in Poland. The Evening Star in New Zealand reported him missing in their 1 May 1941 edition, additionally stating that his mother lived on Ocean View Road in Milford and that he’d been educated at Gisborne Central School on the North Island. A post-war report dated 24 April 46 by No1 Missing, Research and Enquiry Unit RAF F/Lt E Garigue painted a more sinister picture of how the de Taisne family at the Château de Kervéatoux reacted to the presence of Clark in the locality. The papers are damaged with some missing words but they refer to the very unpatriotic behaviour of Monsieur le Baron de Taisne at the Chateau, behaviour driven no doubt because he feared the Germans would punish or kill his family for collaborating with the enemy if the New Zealander was discovered. The report suggests the Baron had surreptitiously tried to get Clark to surrender to the Germans while on the surface supposedly working with locals who were trying to hide him from them. The report suggests Clark “showed much emotion” when faced with the Baron’s demands and flatly refused to hand himself in. As we know, he was eventually captured but what’s unclear is whether the Germans had been tipped off about his presence in the area. Either way, locals who spoke to the investigator were keen to let Clark know that they did not support the Baron’s actions and had worked to ensure his escape. Clark was eventually reported safe on 10 May 1945.
Raymond and those who died with him are buried in Milizac churchyard beside St Anne’s parish church. According to the International Red Cross, via the German High Command, the funerals took place on the 25 April and the site was marked with a cross engraved with the words: Hier Ruhen Funf Englishe Flieger Gefallen – 22.4.41. The graves are now under the control of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
The Croydon Advertiser of 8 August 1941 carried a report that Raymond had been killed over France and buried in Milizac. The report said that Raymond had been educated privately and was training to become a traveller for a silk warehouse. It continued: “He will be remembered at St Augustine’s Church, where he was captain of the badminton club, and also in Caterham, where his brothers are now living.” His mum Annie was quoted as saying: “He was always keen on flying and it was his ambition to be a pilot.”
The bodies were exhumed in 1946 in an effort to identify the men. A Swan fountain pen was discovered among Raymond’s effects and civil servants wrote to his father Walter with news both of that discovery and the confirmation that he had been buried at Milizac in his flying suit. The subsequent examination of his body showed that Raymond had suffered a badly damaged jaw.
A French report on the incident, dated September 1945 and also included in the file on the crash in the National Archives, reported that two of the bodies had suffered injuries while the rest of the men looked uninjured. This report also said the airmen could not be identified by local civilians as the Germans had prevented them from approaching the scene. According to the witnesses, the bodies were stripped of ID and various papers.
Raymond’s niece Sue recalled: “In about 1959 I went with my parents together with [family members] Rupert, Joan and Judith to Milizac to see Raymond’s grave, which is in the centre of this small town next to the church. They had found the detail from the War Graves Commission. At that time there were very few English people travelling in France. I vividly recall that we flew across from Lydd to Le Touquet and my father drove the car onto the plane, which had a bull nose front. It had leather seats and we were given boiled sweets by the stewardess.
“When we arrived at Milizac we were quite a spectacle for the inhabitants. Everybody came out including the mayor. Unfortunately, communication was not really possible. We took a cine film of the graves and of the Milizac sign. A lady, all dressed in black, like many of them were at that time, came out with a bunch of flowers for us to put on the grave. Jim and I returned there about 1999. The graves were very well kept. There was nobody around.”
“David Finch told Jim after my mother’s funeral that he had been to a boating lake at Hampton Court with Raymond Finch a day or two before he died.”
I visited Milizac in June 2013 on a grey but dry day. It was deserted, with the land around the church having undergone a lot of redevelopment. The church dominated, a massive building with a typically Breton galleried tower-cum-steeple. The churchyard is beautifully kept and includes a memorial to the locals who were killed during the Second World War, including a five-year-old.
Raymond’s grave stands alongside his friends’, close to a fighter pilot’s dating from 1943. At the base of the stone, the message: His life, a glorious memory. His death, a silent grief.
Sources: BMD and military records on Ancestry.com, Findmypast.com. RAF service documentation I was sent by the RAF archive. Accident details and post-war examination of the graves in AIR 81/6037 records held at the National Archives. Family memories. UK Commonwealth War Graves, 1914-1921 and 1939-1947, records. New Zealand newspaper archives online – Auckland Star 29 August 1940, Auckland Star 18 January 1941, Gisborne Herald 22 August 1941. The Bomber Command War Diaries: An Operational Reference Book by Chris Everitt. Gildas Saouzanet. From St Vith to Victory: 218 (Gold Coast) Squadron and the Campaign Against Nazi Germany by Steve Smith.