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A Bundu Boy in Bomber Command: Memoirs of a Royal Air Force Lancaster Pilot from Rhodesia by William Dives D.F.C. 373 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0242; ISBN 1-55395-879-9; US$29.50, C$34.00, EUR24.00, £17.00 The memoirs of a boy from Central Africa who becomes captain of a Lancaster bomber in WWII.
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About the Book
About the Author
Readers' Comments
Sample Excerpts
Catalogue Info
About the Book
In these memoirs of his early life and wartime RAF service William (Bill) Dives takes us back in time into two different worlds, both now so far away. Pre-war colonial life in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and the perilous existance of a Lancaster pilot during the second world war.
Bill's father held a post as Native Commissioner in the north west of the country. It was in the remote bush, or "bundu", country that Bill was born and from where he and his elder sister were taken by their parents on working safaris hence the "Bundu Boy" in the title. Sadly their father died from cancer while the children were young. Their mother moved to Salisbury to find work.
The carefree, pre-war colonial life of a schoolboy in Southern Rhodesia was brought to an abrupt end as the sirens of war in the Northern Hemisphere summoned the scattered youth around the world to come to the aid of the mother country.
In the spring of 1942 at the age of 18 he was accepted into the RAF in Rhodesia for pilot training. In June 1943, having qualified as a fighter pilot and given the rank of Sgt./Pilot, along with many other Rhodesians that had enlisted with him, he was posted to England. On arrival he was put on a conversion course for multi-engined aircraft. During training he selected his six-man crew and on completion, now a Pilot Officer, was posted to No. 44 (Rhodesia) Squadron partially manned by fellow Rhodesians. From August 1944 to March 1945 Bill and his crew complete thirty-six missions. Following the regular thirty they volunteered for the extra six! Drawing on details from his wartime log books he takes us through these missions that range from the French coast to the Baltic sea and deep into the industrial heartland of Germany. The targets were many and varied including airfields; factories; communication centres; marshalling yards; canals; troop concentration areas and among others included the hazardous exercise of mine laying off the German and Norwegian coasts. After the euphoria of a successful raid would come the fear for the next operation where once again they would be called upon to face a terrifying mixture of flak; night fighters and the inevitable collisions that occurred when hundreds of aircraft were being directed on to the same target area by night. For those with a mathematical turn of mind the odds of survival were frighteningly small. Bill's final mission (the 36th) was a 1000 bomber raid on Essen on the 12th of March 1945 this was a few weeks before his 21st birthday. He had brought home his crew safely home for the last time. Returning to Rhodesia thoughts of those close friends who would never return cast a heavy cloud over what should have been such an exhilarating occasion. There would inevitably be a period of readjustment- but first of all he must learn to drive a motor car!
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About the Author
Born 22nd March 1924 at Que Que (now called Kwe Kwe) Southern Rhodesia (now called Zimbabwe.)
Raised and educated in Salisbury (Harare)
Joined the Royal Air Force May 1942 and qualified to wear the flying badge March15th 1943. Trained on N.American Harvard
Posted to England July 1943
Converted to multi-engine aircraft. Wellington, Stirling, and Lancaster.
Posted to No 44(Rhodesia) Squadron R.A.F. No 5 Group Bomber Command August 25th 1944 with a seven English crew members. Together they completed 36 missions over France Germany and the Baltic Sea.
Demobilized in October 1945.
Entered Witwatersrand University 1946 to study Agriculture.
Joined the Southern Rhodesia Civil Service and Married June 1949.
First son born February 1950
Returned to an aviation career with Central African Airways 1951
Second son born July 1951
Daughter born November 1952
Reverted to the agricultural profession 1956.
Divorced 1957.
1959 joined a large fertilizer company as an agronomist (agricultural advisor) and remarried.
After 18years with the company accepted a managerial post with an American
Tobacco company working in Portugal. Transferred the company to the Azores in 1976 and engaged in raising tobacco, for eight years before retiring to live in England in 1983.
As the Zimbabwe Government devalues the Z$ to the £ by over 100% it became necessary to seek employment to supplement the decreasing Zimbabwe pension.
From 1985-1993 six month contracts were made with International Tobacco Companies for consultancy work to improve tobacco quality in China, Thailand and the Philippines.
Second wife died 1999.
Now living permanently in France
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Readers' Comments
"Just put your book down, well done a very interesting story. Well
written."
- Ken Rimell, former Director of the D-Day Aviation Museum, Sussex, England
"I can't believe it is your first attempt at authorship. It reads well, keeps up one's interest and is a really good account of the lives, problems and comradeship of the bomber crews. I also liked the stories of your Father's early days in Rhodesia. A different world!
"As an ex-R.A.F. man albeit a lowly 'erk' who has actually been up in a
Lancaster for a short trip, I found it fascinating and a worthwhile read."
- Derek Barontini, France
Sample Excerpts
FRANCE
Thursday 5th September 2002 was one of the most bizarre days of my life.
I received a call form our President Jacques Paris telling me to come to his house at 4 p.m. Being partly deaf (Lancaster Ear) I can never be sure what he tells me over the phone but it was something about going to look for pieces of a Messerschmit and that the pilot had made 41 missions.
I knew that they were working with his brother to hold a small commemorative service in the near future. They (the group -A.N.S.A.- Association Normande Souvenir Aerienne) had previously asked me if I approved. I said I had no objections at all. Those that were shot down and died were all victims of the W.W.II. They the Germans, had brothers, sisters, maybe wives, or children, (No parents left by now) who mourned for them just as we the Allies had.
The objectives of the Association are to seek out pieces of allied aircraft that were shot down over Normandy during World War II. Having first established the type of aircraft and pilot or crew members. further research is carried out through the internet to try to locate survivors or near relatives. After which a stele - stone memorial with a plaque- is erected and a commemorative service held, to which the survivors or relatives are brought over to France. In order to ensure that the children of France will always know the debt that their parents and grand parents owe to the Allied Forces who gave them their liberty, they are encouraged to participate in the laying of wreaths. This is done with pomp and ceremony In as much as the Municipal Band will allow The musicians vary in age and sex from about eleven years old to fifty or more.
When we arrived at a lovely village St. Honore de Guilliame in the Swiss Normande at about 5 p.m., I began to think -Hell this is going to be the commemorative ceremony and here I am dressed in working clothes- We waited at the corner of the village for about half an hour before other members of ANSA started arriving. I was relieved to see that they were casually dressed too. Then a huge Tourist bus arrived with a tough looking lady driver.
The Germans have arrived.
"Attention William " says Jacques "There are going to be some German pilots!"
After the German passengers male and female had de-bussed, I was introduced to a German ex- Ju. 88 pilot. He did not at first understand that he was meeting a British ex- Lancaster pilot and in German, told everyone around that he had a crew of three. A radar operator, and an air gunner. He said that he had made 150 missions.
Then pictures were taken of us shaking hands with a murmur of approval from the small crowd that had gathered around. He could not speak a word of English nor French.
I still had no idea of what we were going to do but we all trooped off to a field. Then Maurice Durand and Sabastian Gardenniener, both member of ANSA, started searching the ground with their metal detectors, and when they made contact Jacques started unearthing small pieces of the Messerschmit, which he passed to the German visitors.
Two of our party could speak German and they explained what had happened after the Messerschmit had been clobbered by a Mosquito and had hit a tall tree on the edge of the forest.
While we were milling around three donkeys joined in. One of the Germans had brought a small bouquet of artificial flowers. Eventually we stopped under a tree near the barbed wire fence and the leader of the German party who could speak English but not French made a long speech in German which was translated into French by our interpreter. As far as I could understand it was all about us now being one country such as it had been many many years ago under the reign of King Fredreich ???? (Don't take this as gospel I never was good at history and my French is worse) Anyway he was genuinely calling for peace and goodwill and hoped that many French people would come to visit Germany where they would be welcomed. And things were cheaper in Germany than France anyway!
The small bouquet was then tied to the rusty barbed wire fence. Jacques called for a minutes silence for the Messerschmit pilot Ober/ Lt Oberhause. The dead German pilot's younger brother was only due to come at the end of the next week. This group was just a tourist group visiting all the battlefields of Normandy. but many of them where from Munchen his home town and his family was very well known.
More photos taken of the allemandes with our party of A.N.S.A. of which I am a Membre de Honoure. I tried to keep out of the picture but Jacques insisted I must come in. and that I stand next to the Ju. 88 pilot
By now the Junkers pilot realized that I had been an RAF Lancaster pilot and was not French. He became very interested. He wanted to know what towns I had bombed in Germany. One I mentioned was Hamburg. Ah! he said "Icht haben shot down a Halifax daar" or words to that effect. Having learnt Afrikaans at school I could guess something of what he was saying.
I asked him if he had been a Nagjagter ? ( Night hunter)
"Ja! Ja!"
I under stood that he had been a Group Leader Iron Cross 1st Class. My French friends tried to tell him I was a "pilote avec croix de vol distinguee, et a faite trente six sorties"
I asked him if he had carried Schraeger Musik? (The combination of radar seeking antennae and upward firing cannons that the Ju. 88 and Me 110's were equipped with, which enabled them to creep up under the bomber's blind spot and start firing without the crew knowing)
"Ja! Ja!"
There followed a discussion in German and translated into French, about- How he always made sure he fired his upward pointing cannons into the petrol reservoir which gave the crew a chance to bail out. Why did the pilots of the bombers he had shot down never jump out? All the rest of the crew did.
It was a weird situation to be in. Standing in this beautiful spot, casually talking to your most feared enemy some 57 years ago.
Yet he was very friendly and carried no animosity and looked quite distinguished and wealthy. Unlike me. Struggling on a Zimbabwe pension that has completely disappeared because of the devaluation of the Zimbabwe dollar from 2 to the £ to over thousand and a small Portuguese pension having worked in the Azores for eight years
He asked me in German how old I was at the time I was on operations. I held up ten fingers twice. He said he was 21 at the time, but when I asked him when he had joined the Luftwaffe, he said December 1941. So I suspect he is now over 80 years old
It was time for boisson. So we all drifted off to the local Bar-tabac, leaving the donkeys eyeing the bunch of artificial flowers. There was not going to be a ceremony today.
After several speeches by Messieure le Maire of the village and others Toasts to everyone and lots of entente cordial all around, the leader of the tourists cried . "Viva La France! Viva Le Allemande! Viva La Europe!" We came outside to say good-bye.
He had his camera and wanted to take a photo of me standing alone. Sans doubte! He will show all his contemporaries what a Tommy pilot of a Lancaster looks like.
I had not brought my camera and had to ask some one else to take a photo of him for me None of our party had cameras. Eventually one of the German tourists took some shots of both of us arm in arm which he promised to send to me.
Now my new camarade wanted to tell me how pleased he was to have met me. This was translated into French.
In turn I said in French that "I was very pleased today "de faire connaissance avec Herr Junkers 88". But I was also very happy that I did not meet him on the 7th of September 1944, some 58 years ago when I was flying around Munchen- Gladbach at fifteen thousand feet, looking for the Target Indicator"
This seemed to cause a bit of a stir. Some of the other Germans thought I had said Munchen and wanted to tell me that their uncles and aunts had been in Munich. In fact I had visited the city three times at 20000 feet, but later in the year.
However my new found friend was more interested in trying to remember if he had been there and we parted on a high note of cameraderie and amitie.
I am sure I will meet Herr Walter Heidenreich again some day.
Catalogue Information
