209260 P/O. Albert Norman Gould Royal Canadian Air Force 101 Squadron from:Toronto, Canada (d.4th Nov 1944) My brother, Pilot Officer Norman Gould, was killed on a raid over Bochum Germany. His Lancaster ME865 was the plane on which George Kesten served as 'cigar' operator and who has several articles written about him posted on the internet.
I put together a book based on Norman's letters home and this is the intro page: A Collection of WW II Letters From P.O. Norman Gould
to his Mother & Family. From Model T’s to Lancasters.
December 15, 2006
I was 2 years old when war broke out, and 8 when it ended. My only recollection of my brother, Norman, was a car ride in the rumble seat of his pride and joy – a Model T Ford. However, I was deeply aware of his presence in our house during the years 1943 to 1946 after he volunteered to serve his country. I watched my mother pour over each and every letter she received from Norman, write back faithfully almost every day and pray constantly for his safe return. In November 1944 when he was reported missing, my mother prayed that he had been captured. When the war ended with no further news from the government, she continued to pray that he would be found in one of the many prisoner of war camps across Europe. She was sad for most of that period but at some point she let go of the fear and placed his safe return in God’s hands. The sad news arrived from the Government almost one year after the war had ended. Norman had been killed on that fateful night of November 4, 1944 and that his remains were buried along with his crew in a cemetery near Baden-Baden Germany. My mother took a long time to recover from the news of his death and missed him until the day she passed.
In the early 1980’s, my mother went with my Aunt Winnie to Germany to visit his grave at the Rheinberg War Cemetery, a cemetery which was chosen in April 1946 by the Army Graves Service for the assembly of Commonwealth graves recovered from numerous German cemeteries in the area. The majority of those now buried in the cemetery are airmen. The journey, I think, brought her peace and closure.
Along with his Flight Log Book, I found the following letters among my mother’s precious keepsakes when she passed in 1993. Although a few are missing, the collection gives the reader a sense of the day-to-day life of an airman from the early days of his training in Canada to the lengthy training on the airfields in Britain. The letters were written on any paper Norman could get his hands on and all available space was written upon. The letters focused on ‘small talk’. The importance of things like cigarettes, leaves, the weather and food are described in great detail in many of his letters. Aside from writing to pass by the censors (security purposes), I believe Norman sent exactly what my mother needed and wanted to hear – that he was okay, the world overseas was mostly ‘normal’ and that he was going to survive the war. The letters, sent and received, served as his primary connection to the world he was fighting for and longed to come home to and I believe that the letters helped keep his hopes alive for a safe return.
In rereading the letters I was amazed at the lengthy training the flight crews received before being allowed to fly operational missions. He was assigned to a RAF squadron, Squadron 101, and his crew flew Lancaster bombers. Unfortunately, In spite of that lengthy training, it appears that Norman was killed on his second operational mission. The flight on the night of November 4, 1944 to bomb Bochum, Germany, was to be his last.
Norman never finished high school, a casualty of the Depression in the 1930’s, but he was educated in a school of reality that few since have had to face; one which I pray that our son and grandchildren will never have to experience. I know in my heart that he is in a safe place but I still miss seeing the big grin on his face as he drove in his Ford down Bowie Avenue with a rumble seat full of friends. Gone but not forgotten!
Last week (May 2012) after 68 years of being left in the dark, thanks to postings on the internet (especially Leonard Jackson) I learned some of the details of his experiences:
"On November 4th, 1944, one such raid, in which 101 Squadron was heavily involved, the weather forecast across Lincolnshire for the evening was given as being dry but cloudy to begin with. Breaks in the cloud were expected to develop later, allowing one or two mist patches to form in sheltered locations. But despite the cloud and wind, temperatures would be around 51 deg. F., average for early November. With a fresh to strong south westerly wind developing, a breezy evening was expected.
From early morning, the ground staff had been preparing twenty-five of its forty-two aircraft to take part in one of the biggest bombing raids of the Second World War – a concentrated attack on Bochum, a heavily industrialized city in the Rhur Valley, with a huge steelworks at its centre. The main bomber force would consist of 749 aircraft, including 336 Lancasters and 384 Halifaxes, preceded by twenty-nine Pathfinder Mosquitos to pinpoint and illuminate the target.
At 17.09 the first Lancaster took off, followed by the rest at two-minute intervals. Each aircraft was loaded with a 4,000 lb. high explosive bomb, a varied assortment of cluster bombs, incendiaries and target indicators. Approximately five hours later, all came home safely, except for two. Sixteen men lost their lives. One of the two was Lancaster ME865, all eight of its crew members were shot down and killed, including my friend George."
From German War Records:
ME865 was another lost that night, right? Identical loads, I assume that they were probably both flying at the same altitude as the others, especially as B was identically configured, and a Lanc I, rather than a III (my understanding is that apart from the Packard built Merlins and the different carbs, they're basically the same). Two of the claims in the KP sector, one at 19:31 and the other at 19:36, both reasonably close to 17,000, were made by one pilot, Hptm Heinz Rokker, of Stab I./NJG2. The other claim at exactly 19:30 was 13,000ft.
Of course, the assumption I'm making is that it wasn't a flak loss. If the loss was fifteen minutes later in the mission, I'd be far less comfortable making this assumption, as from what I've read, the flak was significantly worse later on.
My brother wrote the following letter to our mother the day before his final raid:
November 3. (1944)
Dear Mother.
How are you and Dad and the Gould family. Fine I hope. I am well although my nerves are a bit shaken after last night's do. It was our 1st real raid and we are still a bit tense after it. I guess you read the papers and saw it was one of the biggest raids yet. It is the most interesting and scaring incident in my 21 years of life. You would have to see it to appreciate what I mean. We could see the target long time before we reached it and the moon was up and we were jittery as they were fighters about. When we turned in and ran over that hell hole I think I aged 10 years. Boy was I glad when we dropped our load and got out of there. When we left I had a look at the target. It was bright as day with all different colors and teary fix fires and flack and searchlights. It was the most beautiful and awe-inspiring sight I have ever seen. We got back without mishap except for a little piece of flack in our tail. That is one trip now mother and we have 29 to go. We are going on 7 days leave in 5 days time and we expect to have at least 3 in by then. We are definitely going this time. I'm going to London. I have written Aunty Gladys to let her know I was coming. I will send you a card from London when we arrive. We are really looking forward to this leave as this camp life is deadly.
I hope we can get our other trips in very quick. We will be sent home for a while then and that's my chief goal. I didn't finish this afternoon as I have to go to my section. I stopped in at the post office and there were 2 more parcels for me from you. The other parcel of cigarettes from you and your other parcel of food. I sure did need the cigarettes and the food is simply wonderful. The crew and myself send all our thanks. It really wonderful and you could never know how much we and especially myself appreciate it. I see by your letters you had some nice weather in October. The weather over here according to the English has been very bad this year. They say it's not always like this. I have lost my black leather gloves. Could you take some money and buy me a new pair from my bank. You can't buy them over here without coupons.
Well this is all the news for now mother. I am going to close this for now as there is something very important I have to do. Give my love to Dad and the family. I'll be home real soon.
Your loving son,
Norm.
And now I know the ‘rest of the story’. (Paul Harvey reminiscence). I came across the above letter after I had published the ‘From Model T’s to Lancasters’ book. Instead of Norman being killed on his first raid, it is clear that he was killed on his second raid and he flew with one of the RAF’s most dangerous squadrons, carrying out efforts to save many other crews from being shot down by enemy fighters. The secrecy surrounding that work may have been the prime reason for the government not acknowledging his death until 1946, one year after the war had ended. It also explains the 'light' tone to the letters as the dangers he faced was not what my mother would have wanted to know.
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