Short History Of... - The Dambusters

Episode Date: June 16, 2024

The top-secret Dambusters mission was one so crucial that British intelligence hoped it would hasten a triumph over Nazi Germany. But it was also highly dangerous, and required the 133 pilots to fly at high speed and exceptionally low altitudes, all in the dead of night. With only one bomb per plane, they had one shot at changing the course of the war.  So why did Britain feel the time was right to bomb Germany in such an audacious way? How effective was this campaign in bringing the war to a close? And how did the daring raid impact the lives of British people?  This is a Short History Of… The Dambusters. A Noiser production, written by Fiona Ford. With thanks to Dr Robert Owen, the official historian of the No.617 Squadron Association, and lead author of ‘Dam busters: Failed to Return.’ Get every episode of Short History Of a week early with Noiser+. You’ll also get ad-free listening, bonus material, and early access to shows across the Noiser network. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It is April 1943. The full moon illuminates a stretch of open agricultural land in rural Derbyshire, England, an area known for its natural beauty. Inside the farmhouse, a weary, middle-aged farmer stifles a yawn. One of his volunteer land girls has been ill for the past week, doubling his workload, so he's been getting up even earlier than usual to feed the livestock. His wife appears from the kitchen with steaming cups of tea and urges him to go to bed. He does what he's told, leaving her to make the nightly checks that every blackout blind is pulled snugly across the windows. Britain has been engaged in war against Germany and its allies for more than three years. Days earlier, the Scottish city of Aberdeen suffered a devastating Nazi bomb attack.

The last thing they want is a fine from the air raid warden, letting out a chink of light. When the woman is finished, she makes her way up to the bedroom. Her husband is already snoring. But now, in the distance, she hears a low rumble. Their farmhouse is a short distance from Derwent Reservoir. On a quiet day, the roar of the dam can occasionally be heard in the background. But this noise is different, and it's getting louder. She wakes her husband, who sits bolt upright and looks in alarm at his wife.

The sound is unmistakable now. It is clearly an aircraft. Throwing back the eider down, he leaps out of bed and pulls back the blind. All thoughts of finds forgotten, the two farmers peer through the window to see the ominous silhouettes of three aeroplanes. But they're not German. The formidable outline of the Lancaster bomber marks them out instantly as friendly RAF planes.

But if they're not enemy craft, what are they doing? Closing in, they're flying perilously low, almost grazing the treetops as they speed towards the farmhouse. The husband grips the window frame. The pilots are surely about to crash. Why didn't they do something?

As the planes continue their advance, the lowing of the cows in the nearby barn becomes increasingly panicked. The aircraft are now so close, the woman braces herself for impact. Together with her husband, she drops to the floor and scrambles under the bed. But just when disaster seems inevitable, they hear the planes pull sharply up. Breathless with adrenaline, the couple blink in the darkness. Have they just witnessed a training exercise? Or was it something more sinister? As the sound of engines fades into the night, they emerge from under the bed and race down the stairs. Thrusting their feet into muddy wellington boots,

they step outside into the cool spring night. By now the herd are fully spooked. Several cows have broken free from the barn and are galloping across open fields. Others are clearly distressed and are pawing the ground, tails flicking. As the farmer's wife surveys the chaos, her thoughts turn to the pilots in the Lancasters. Whatever their reason for flying at such a hazardous altitude. She only hopes it was worth it. Unknown to locals, what seemed like a harrowing close call was, in fact, a dress rehearsal for a top-secret RAF mission by what will later become known as Squadron 617. A mission so crucial, British intelligence hoped it could help hasten

a triumph over Nazi Germany. In the training exercise, Derwent Reservoir played the part of three crucial German targets, a series of dams in the Ruhr Valley. If they could hit these in the actual exercise, the British believed, it would strike a devastating blow to German industry. But an operation like this was both dangerous and daring. To bomb the dams, the squadron, made up of 133 men, would have to fly at high speed and exceptionally low altitudes in the dead of night. All with minimal communication and light to avoid enemy fire.

And armed with only one bomb per plane, they would have just one shot at potentially changing the course of the war. So why did Britain feel the time was right to bomb Germany in such an audacious way? How effective was this campaign to shorten the war? And how did this daring raid impact the lives of British people? I'm John Hopkins from the Noiser Network. This is a short history of the Dam Busters.

By 1943, Britain has been at war for more than three years, fighting alongside key nations including the United States, the Soviet Union and China. These so-called Allied powers are ranged against Germany and their Axis forces, at this time comprising Italy and Japan. Earlier in the conflict, the German Luftwaffe decimated British cities, including Liverpool, London and Birmingham. The damage to the Warwickshire city of Coventry is so extensive, Nazi propagandists develop a new word – Coventrate – meaning to raise a city to the ground.

Now, on the home front, Britain is subjected to severe austerity measures. Food, clothes and other essentials are carefully rationed to fully support the war effort. At land and sea, British forces are engaged in combat across multiple theatres of war. In the skies, the RAF's strategic bombing campaign is in full swing. German cities, including Cologne, Essen and Bremen, have been attacked with the hope of disrupting industrial production and destroying civilian morale.

These raids cause significant damage, but haven't had the strategic impact Britain intended. So, in early 1943, Head of RAF Bomber Command Air Chief Marshal Harris, better known as Bomber Harris, believes now is the time to attack the dams that power a swathe of German industry. The targets, which have been under consideration since 1937, are the Mirna, Eder and Soper dams in the Ruhr heartland. Dr Robert Owen is the official historian of the No. 617 Squadron Association and is the lead author of the book, Dambusters Failed to Return. By attacking Germany's industrial heartland, Bomber Command sought to disrupt the industrial

might of the German war machine, and attacks against this area would disrupt not only the production of weapons, but also war material and the sources which provided the raw materials for these heavy industries. The attacks on industrial centres would not only destroy the means of production, but they'd also have an adverse effect on the morale of the workforce, who would now find themselves very much in the front line, inevitably suffering the casualties of having their homes and lives significantly disrupted. At this time, 1943, the bomber offensive was the only means by which the Western Allies had to take the war to the German homeland.

The trouble is, so far RAF Bomber Command have been unable to achieve the required accuracy on such well-defended targets. For an assault on the dams to work, it needs to be a surprise, a one-off. But until recently, they haven't had a bomber or a bomb fit for the job. That's where weapons aircraft engineer Barnes Wallace comes in. He has been working on anti-ship and potential dam bombs for some time. Earlier in the war, he developed an idea for a 22,000-pound bomb to be dropped from 40,000 feet. But no bomber could carry that much or fly that high. He realizes that a much smaller charge could destroy a dam if detonated right by the dam wall.

But dams are protected by anti-torpedo nets, so he needs something that will skim the surface to get to the wall. To breach a dam, Wallace needed to find a way of doing it with a smaller bomb, one that was capable of being carried by existing aircraft. Further experiments showed that a smaller bomb would be capable of destroying the Myrna Dam, but to do so it had to be detonated in the water and in direct contact with the wall at a precise depth below the surface. The question was how to get a bomb into that precise position. The dams were protected by torpedo booms and nets, which prevented anything being floated along the surface or sent underwater. He came up with what was literally a revolutionary idea.

He designed a cylindrical bomb which was given backspin before release, and striking the water, the spin caused it to ricochet off the surface and progress to the dam wall in a series of decreasing bounces. It would then strike the dam wall and begin to sink. The spin would then keep the bomb in contact with the wall until a hydrostatic pistol detonated it at the required depth. Early tests are promising. Wallace comes to believe that with this new technology, step. which will later be codenamed Upkeep. The suggestion is that the RAF modify some of the brand new Lancasters to carry these innovative bombs. But Harris isn't convinced. Skeptical of the bomb's efficacy against a dam wall,

he's worried about flying the Lancasters so low. There is also a concern that this testing and tinkering with a new weapon is distracting the RAF from their conventional bombing efforts. But Harris is overruled by the top brass, and shortly after their meeting, Wallace is cleared to develop the plan for the mission. Codenamed Operation Chastise, it is slated for May. The dams had to be attacked by May because their principal function was to store the water from the winter rains and the snowfall and the meltwater, which filled the reservoirs. And then during the summer dry season, the water was released from the reservoirs to maintain the

supply to German industry. May was really the point when the reservoirs would be at their fullest, and it would be just before the time when the Germans would start drawing the water off and lowering the water level in the reservoirs. Wallace had calculated that the weapon's greatest effect would be when the reservoirs were at their highest level, because you've got the greatest weight of water behind the dam. What is needed now is manpower. Harris turns to Number 5 Group RAF, responsible for strategic bombing operations, led by Air Vice Marshal Ralph Cochrane. Harris stresses the urgency of creating a new squadron for the dangerous mission, and he already knows the man he wants in charge.

Newly promoted Wing Commander Guy Gibson is just 24, but highly decorated and with an impressive 170-plus missions and 68 bombing operations under his belt. At the age of 24, Gibson was regarded as an uncompromising leader. He was always ready to lead from the front. He was a dedicated and capable pilot and had what was at the time known as press on spirit, keen to take the war to the heart of the enemy. But amid his military duties, Gibson is grappling with an unhappy marriage to his wife, actress Eve Moore.

With a troubled home life, he sees the RAF as his salvation. But he's exhausted and suffering from gout, so has recently put in a request to retire from active service. But that's not what Cochran wants to talk to him about when he summons Gibson to his office on the 18th of March As the door closes, Cochran asks if the younger man will lead one more trip He's cryptic with detail, though All he'll say is that the mission involves low-flying at night Gibson agrees, but with such scant information, he believes this could possibly be the most dangerous mission of his life, bombing the German battleship Tirpitz.

Stationed in the Norwegian fjords, the battleship has been causing havoc to the Allies' shipping convoys. RAF pilots consider the Tirpitz a risky target because it's heavily defended, hard to reach, and previous attempts to destroy the ship have failed. Consequently, an attack of this kind is seen as a suicide mission. Despite his reservations, Gibson listens as Cochrane explains his plan to create a new squadron at RAF headquarters in Skempton, Lincolnshire, in the rural east of Britain. With full autonomy over the squadron and how it's run, there is only one catch. Gibson can know nothing about the target of the raid.

Three days later, Gibson arrives at Skempton and draws up a list of men he wants to join his new squadron. But it's formed so quickly that, for now, RAF bureaucracy don't have a proper name for them. The label Squadron 617 won't be applied until months later. Gibson starts by picking his old friend, 21-year-old John Hoppy Hopkid. picking his old friend 21-year-old John Hoppy Hopkid. Then adds Australian low-flying expert Mickey Martin and Big Joe McCarthy, a blonde American who signed up with the Canadian Air Force. Alongside these, he adds David Maltby, whose wife is expecting a baby, and 20-year-old Australian Dave Shannon. Along with many others, they form the new 133-strong Squadron X of the No. 5 Group RAF.

Bomber crews during the Second World War were young, and in many respects they were old heads on young shoulders. And until they had been called up into the RAF, many of them had never flown. Some of them may never have even seen an aeroplane up close. And within a very short time, the system was able to train them to sufficient standard to actually make them an operational fighting force. Gibson hasn't been at Scampton for a week before he's ordered to visit Burhill Park, a golf club that's been requisitioned by the Ministry of Aircraft Production. All he knows is that he's meeting an engineer named Barnes Wallace. As the train slows to a halt at Weybridge Station in Surrey, Guy Gibson peers out of

the window, smoothing down his wavy, light brown hair. The platform's crowded. There are servicemen like himself, mothers clutching the hands of children who haven't already been evacuated, and elderly couples shuffling towards the entrance. Disembarking, he makes his way through the throng of people towards a sleek black car parked near the station entrance. There, a man in a navy blue RAF uniform like his own salutes and opens the door. Gibson climbs in and settles into the back seat.

They arrive at the leafy golf course in minutes. As Gibson steps out onto the manicured grounds, he is met by an older man with thick gray hair, glasses, and a tense demeanor. He introduces himself as Wallace, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, ushers his visitor inside. Soon Gibson is following him into a large meeting room. Closing the doors, Wallace gets right to it. He's asked Gibson here to see plans for his latest and bravest invention, a new type of cylindrical bomb inspired by skimming stones across water.

This revolutionary weapon weighs around 9,000 pounds, as much as an elephant, and is codenamed Upkeep. Each bomb resembles a beer barrel and is filled with explosives. Until now, the RAF have typically used bombs weighing between 100 and 500 pounds, so Upkeep will require a completely new method of delivery. Wallace has already tailored it for use with the RAF's existing Avro Lancaster bomber, but in order for the bomb to work, the plane needs to be flown at an elevation of 150 feet, low enough to touch a tall church spire. What Wallace doesn't, or can't, disclose yet is the target. Even though he's going to be leading the mission,

Gibson lacks the necessary security clearance to know where the bombs are headed. But there's nothing forbidding him from seeing the bomb's capability right here in this room. Wallace rises from his chair to flick a switch on the wall. The room goes dark. Then he makes his way to a projector screen at the front. Grainy, silent footage flickers to life, showing what appears to be a lake or reservoir. Wallace explains that this is footage filmed at one of the weapons tests. Leaning forward, Gibson is glued to the screen as a bomb breaks the tranquility of the water, skimming across the surface before disappearing

from view. It is then Gibson understands that whatever the target, the success of Operation Chastise relies firmly on the effectiveness of Wallace's invention. Hurrying back to RAF Scampton, Gibson addresses his men, the majority of whom have only arrived that day. He explains they have been chosen for an exceptionally perilous but crucial war mission that will contain challenges none of them have encountered before. His men appear resolute. Like everyone else, all they want is to defeat the Axis powers and bring this war to a close.

A little later, Gibson crosses the concourse to Cochrane's office. By his side is the squadron's mascot and Gibson's loyal companion, a trusty two-year-old Black Labrador. Here, Cochrane shares some more detail. The focus of the mission is to be what he calls lightly defended special targets It puts Gibson's fears of attacking the Tirpitz to rest But it's not until a few days later

when he's shown models of the Myrna and Soppa dams that he understands exactly what he's being asked to do Now that Gibson can discuss the mission in full with Wallace he makes regular visits to see the engineer. But the operation is so secret that each time Gibson travels down to Surrey, he varies his mode of transport and route. Elsewhere, in late March 1943, the Allies are engaged in multiple strategies.

In what has become known as the Battle of the Atlantic, they've been safeguarding vital supply lines between North America and Europe. Losing these essential routes to German U-boat attacks would impede the delivery of military equipment, food, fuel, and troop reinforcements. The introduction of aircraft carriers and very long-range aircraft is starting to turn the tide back in Allied favor. But it's an added pressure on RAF budgets. Meanwhile in North Africa, the Tunisia campaign is underway, with the Allies successfully pushing Axis forces back towards the northeastern corner bordering Libya. If the Allies gain control here, they can weaken the Axis position in North Africa,

establish supply lines, and launch further offensives against enemy forces. Momentum appears to be growing for the Allies. Now, if they can strike a shattering blow to the German industrial heartland with this daring raid, they'll turn the screws even tighter. In early April, Gibson orders his men to practice low-flying over water at night. They'll train over Derwent Reservoir in the Peak District, or Ibrook, some 65 miles away in Rutland. And although it's a little further away, Abboton Reservoir near Colchester in Essex

offers a size and shape similar to the German targets. The squadron's first challenge is to hit a raft, but flying at 150 feet makes this difficult. On Gibson's first attempt, he very nearly crashes. Flying in the dark at such low altitude makes it impossible for him to see the water. The rest of the crew have similar problems. Meanwhile, Wallace is making further refinements to the bomb. Together with Gibson, he undertakes frequent test drops on the south coast at Chesil Beach and Reculver Bay. The pilot and engineer experience some degree of success,

but the bomb drops are largely disappointing. Up keeps casing, keeps breaking as soon as it makes contact with the water. It seems, even at 150 feet, the planes are still flying too high. Once again, Wallace returns to his calculations. While Wallace was developing the weapon, he was continually refining the parameters for release. His original concept had been a release height of 150 feet, but when that proved to be too great, he then had to reduce that and found that he could get the desired result from 60 feet. At their next meeting, Wallace asks Gibson if it's possible for his pilots to fly at this new, reduced height.

Initially, Gibson is indignant. Flying so low raises the risk of mechanical failure, increases vulnerability to enemy detection, and heightens the possibility of flying into obstacles like power lines and trees. But Gibson knows what's at stake, and that shying away from the challenge isn't an option. And after all, flying at 60 feet might be difficult, but it's not impossible. The reduced altitude initially causes a catalogue of problems for Squadron X.

Following practice runs, the Lancasters often return to base with leaves and branches lodged in their fuselage. Eventually, Gibson's men find that flying at 60 feet during the day is achievable. It's at night they struggle. Visibility is so poor, the crew cannot see where they're going with enough accuracy to drop a bomb. As night time runs continue, complaints pour into Scampton from upset farmers in the area. Many claim the roar of the engines and the low flying in the middle of the night is distressing for their animals. The locals around these lakes had no idea of the reason for these flights. Many of them presumably supposed it was some form of training. There were numerous complaints in general about the squadron's low flying while they practiced,

but it was never explained to them. There is an apocryphal story that on one occasion, a letter of complaint was responded to by assuring the writer, our air crews have been told to give greater consideration to other road users. Whether or not such a letter was ever sent, of course, is lost in the mist of time, but it's a lovely story and emphasizes that these aircraft were flying extremely low. They're flying so low, in fact, that they struggle to get accurate altitude readings from their instruments. And that's a problem when the bombs have to be dropped at exactly 60 feet above the level of the water. The Ministry of Aircraft Production proposes installing two spotlights beneath the Lancaster.

the Lancaster. When the plane is flying low enough to release the bomb, the spots will converge to create a distinctive figure-eight patch of light on the ground. It's an ideal fix, giving the pilots a visual cue at the precise moment for optimum release. But while all this night flying is great practice, the pilots need more hours in the air. They need to find a way to simulate the dark conditions when flying during daylight hours. Suggestions are made to paint the windscreens blue and give pilots amber goggles. These simple ideas are an immediate success, but other issues need to be ironed out. but other issues need to be ironed out. As upkeep will bounce several times, skipping over the anti-torpedo net booms

before sinking and detonating, pilots are struggling to accurately determine the point at which they should release the bombs. A basic but ingenious device is created in the form of a Y-shaped wooden sight with pins at its open ends. This is then mounted onto the cockpit's instrument panel. When the pilot aligns the sights with the dam's towers,

the Lancaster will be at exactly the right distance for accurate bomb deployment. Initially the sight works, though there are concerns later that vibrations in the cockpit make it less effective. But there's still the issue of the bomb's weight. At 9,000 pounds, it's too large to fit into the bomb bay of the Lancasters. Wallace suggests removing the bomb doors under the fuselage of the aircraft, allowing upkeep to be securely attached and easily discharged by the bomb aimer. The idea gets the green light and soon, 19 modified Lancasters along with the spare are rolling into Scamton's hangars.

In the meantime, Wallace and Gibson continue testing the Lancaster's enhanced capabilities at Reculver Bay. But the runs continue to fail as casings shatter or sink, and they're running out of time if they're going to hit the dams in May when the reservoirs are still full of water. It's not until late April they see success. Standing on the beach on a brisk spring afternoon, the two men fix their gaze

on a Lancaster out to sea. It is flying at a speed of 240 miles per hour, just 60 feet above the water. As they track it through binoculars, they see the barrel shape of the dummy upkeep drop from underneath. It skips six times across the surface of the sea, and this time it doesn't break. The most recent modifications have worked. Finally, the squadron stands a fighting chance of destroying the dams. Production gets underway, and in early May the first upkeeps arrive at Scampton ready to be used in the raid. Having only practiced with much lighter, inert bombs, this is the first time any of the men except Gibson have seen Wallace's invention. One crewman memorably describes it as a glorified dustbin.

The date for the raid is finally confirmed for Sunday the 16th of May. With just two days to go, it's time for a full dress rehearsal at Abboton Reservoir, Colchester. The dummy run sees the crew drop the practice bombs with remarkable accuracy. It's just as well, as the next time the men step into these planes, they'll be about to unleash upkeep onto the German dams for real. Gibson's focus shifts to finalizing the operation orders for the mission ahead. But as he settles at his desk on the evening before the big day, yards away at Scampton's gates, his beloved dog is killed by a passing motorist.

The loss leaves Gibson heartbroken. Through an intense period of work, made even more challenging with a difficult marriage, his faithful Labrador had been a constant. Though Gibson is consumed with grief, he has a job to do. Nothing will stop him executing it to perfection. Talks about going back to his room on the evening of the 15th of May, looking at the scratch marks on the door the dog had made when he wanted to go out. Gibson's words are, he felt very depressed. But equally, he was a consummate professional, and he knew that he needed to focus 100% on the upcoming operation. Not only did he need to do it for his own sake,

but he had the responsibility of the crews and the success of the operation. Dawn breaks on May the 16th, and the weather is fine. Unable to shake the weight of the tragedy, Gibson visits the workshops at Scampton and asks a flight sergeant if he can make a coffin for his best friend. Temper's flare as Gibson's request is refused, but determined to honor his dog, he asks a colleague to bury his faithful friend on his behalf. The ceremony, it is agreed, will take place at midnight, the exact time Gibson himself will be facing death

as he flies into enemy territory to attack the Myrna Dam. At 6pm, Gibson and Wallace make their way to the briefing room. It's time to tell the men exactly what they have signed up to do. Wallace is keyed up. He feels the weight of these young men's lives on his shoulders, and tells Gibson he hopes that they will all return safe and well. Gibson says, matter-of-factly, that they won't, but that it is not Wallace's fault. The engineer is stricken as the men assemble.

Once the doors are sealed shut, Gibson takes the floor. To a silent room, he explains that under cover of darkness, they will attack the formidable dams of the Ruhr Valley, approximately 260 miles from Scampton. If they don't succeed, they'll be going back to finish the job tomorrow night. He doesn't need to tell them just how perilous the night ahead of them will be. need to tell them just how perilous the night ahead of them will be. Flying a heavy multi-engine aircraft deep into unfamiliar, heavily defended enemy territory by moonlight at 60 to 100 feet can't be considered anything but extremely dangerous. You've also got to think about the fact that it was also physically demanding.

It was pure muscle power and concentration for some six to seven hours. There were no power-assisted controls or fly-by-wire. A moment's lapse of concentration could have meant disaster. The Lancaster's wingspan was 102 feet, and you only had to dip a wing in a turn to bring it very close to the ground. Gibson's voice is steady as he outlines the operation. The 19 aircraft will launch in three waves, each with a distinct target.

He will start by leading the first nine planes in groups of three. His wave will pass over the North Sea towards the Myrna Dam, the largest and most heavily protected of the targets. Joe McCarthy, a former champion swimmer who grew up in New York's Bronx district, will take command of the second wave. Made up of five aircraft, they will fly over the Dutch coast.

This wave will strike the Soppa, the least strategically important of the three targets, roughly 15 miles from the Mirna. The third wave will be a mobile unit, led out by Pilot Officer Warner Otley. This team will be ready to provide support wherever needed. Gibson stresses the importance of using radiocoms only when necessary. He explains that he himself will coordinate communication back to Scampton. Using code words, he will tell Bomber Command whether the mission has failed or succeeded. At 7.30pm, Gibson dismisses his men. They are treated to a sumptuous meal of bacon and two eggs, a luxury amidst wartime rationing.

After that, the men have a little time to write farewell letters to their families, examine maps and models, and gather their kit together. Some crew members relax on the grass, savoring the peace and the last of the evening sun. Among them, Gibson's friend Hoppe and the Australian Dave Shannon share a quiet moment. Shannon believes the mission will be tough. Hoppe agrees, bleakly admitting he doesn't think he'll be coming back. Everyone involved knows that even if they manage to release the upkeep bombs at dangerously low altitudes, they are still vulnerable to German attack.

The anti-aircraft artillery stationed near the Dutch border adds another layer of peril to their already treacherous mission. Although the atmosphere is tense, there is a palpable sense of camaraderie. When asked if there is anything he needs, Gibson comments that he wants nothing but a lot of beer when they return. As the clock nears 9pm, the crews make their final preparations. Many have their pre-flight rituals, urinating on or watering the rear wheel of the Lancaster, or boarding the plane in a certain order.

Some carry lucky mascots. Australian Mickey Martin carries a koala bear toy, while Gibson himself wears a German inflatable life jacket. Once inside, pilots examine instruments, navigators smooth out creases in maps, gunners settle into their huddled positions behind their weapons. Each is ready to face the unknown. Worryingly, the American McCarthy, leader of the second wave,

discovers that his aircraft has developed a mechanical failure. He and his crew will have to use the spare Lancaster that only arrived at Scampton that morning. Gibson takes off at 9.39pm, followed by the rest of his wave. McCarthy's group depart at 10pm, leaving just Otley's team, whose third wave will wait another two hours before taking to the skies. Once they're underway, Gibson's wave encounters some powerful winds and find themselves further south along the enemy coastline than planned. Finding themselves directly above a heavily fortified area, they have to fly low to evade enemy radar detection

and avoid the anti-aircraft artillery stationed near the Dutch border. aircraft artillery stationed near the Dutch border. But the Lancasters struggle to navigate at such low altitude. Taking a risk, Gibson brings his plane up to 300 feet to make it easier for his navigator. His courage pays off when they quickly regain their bearings. But their good fortune doesn't last long. Soon they're detected by Germans, and as the Lancasters drop altitude, they're exposed to a barrage of artillery fire. Poppy's plane is damaged, but the pilot is resolute. He will carry on. The second wave also encounter unexpected trouble. One pilot veers off course while crossing the Dutch coast and is shot down. Pilot and crew perish instantly.

Another plane hits electricity pylons and crashes in a German field. Other pilots fare no better. One has his radio hit by flak and is forced to turn back. Another flies too low to the sea, clips the water, and loses his upkeep. The pilot recovers control, but they reluctantly limp back towards England. Now only McCarthy remains. Back in Scampton, the operations room has transformed into a makeshift headquarters, in which Bomber Harris and Wallace anxiously await updates.

By 12.15 AM, McCarthy has reached the SORPA. He is puzzled to find he's alone, but doesn't hesitate to attack. This part of the mission, though, is more complex. though, is more complex. Unlike the other two dam wall targets, Isorpa is an earthwork embankment and Wallace's upkeep probably won't work as well. So the plan here is to fly along the dam wall and drop the bomb like a regular device, without the backspin, as close to the wall as possible. Hopefully cracks will form and eventually the dam will burst. It takes 10 runs before McCarthy is ready to release the bomb close to the center of the dam wall. As upkeep drops, a geyser of water shoots into the air, but the dam remains stubbornly intact. But the dam remains stubbornly intact.

By now, Gibson too has crossed the border into Germany. The full moon lights his way as he glides along the shimmering Rhine towards the Myrna Dam. He is ready to strike. Scanning the terrain from behind his controls, Gibson sees the gigantic dam come into view. The foreboding outline of Germany's attack guns strapped to the dam towers only make the challenge seem greater. He glances out of the cockpit window, taking courage from the fact that all but one of his nine planes have arrived. Just one pilot, Astell, is missing, his craft having crashed after also colliding with power

cables on his way to the Mirna. Now though is not the moment for mourning. It's time to act. The scent of aviation fuel thick in the air, Gibson flies towards the target, rocketing forward to a heart-stopping 230 miles per hour. With his navigator guiding him, he lowers the Lancaster until it's just 60 feet above the reservoir. Then, in one fluid movement, Gibson pulls the Lancaster sharply up.

The bomb aimer discharges upkeep. As Gibson banks, the bomb bounces across the surface. It sinks, and when it bursts, it sends up a spout of water 1,000 feet high. But it's too far from the dam to do any damage. Gibson calls on Hoppy to take his turn. He flies towards the dam, but his already damaged Lancaster is illuminated by enemy searchlight. The sickening sound of Nazi gunfire starts up, and all Gibson can do is watch in horror as bright orange flames lick Hoppy's plane.

Somehow, Hoppy maintains position, bringing his burning aircraft towards the water, ready to drop his upkeep. The bomb falls in what appears to be one precise move, then suddenly veers off course. Instead of exploding into the water, the bomb detonates on the dam's power station. By now, Hoppy's plane is a fiery inferno. As it spirals out of control, Gibson knows what will happen next. His old friend climbs high into the sky, allowing three of his crew to bail out. Only two of them will survive. Poppy can't control the aircraft and simultaneously bail himself to safety.

So he does the only thing a pilot in this situation can do. He guides the burning aircraft towards the valley and plummets to the ground below. Gibson digs deep, resolving that his friend's death will not go unpunished. He calls in Aussie low-flying expert Martin for the next attack. Gibson flies alongside Martin's aircraft, acting as a decoy to draw enemy fire away. Martin, now low enough to drop his bomb, strikes, but misses the center of the dam wall. The Myrna is still intact. Others encounter the same issue with their bomb drops,

but Gibson can see that with each successive strike, the dam is weakening. Young's bomb hits the target perfectly, but the wall still holds. Now it's time for 23-year-old Maltby to make his run. He powers above the water and, from Gibson's position as decoy,

he sees Maltby's upkeep drop and bounce. It finds its mark, and this time, the dam bursts. Immediately, a roar echoes across the valley, as millions of cubic meters of water flood from the wrecked dam. The crew are elated. With the unmistakable breach of the target, Operation Chastise can claim its first success. With the Myrna Dam destroyed, Gibson sends Martin and Maltby back to Scampton, their bombs now discharged. McCarthy and another pilot from the backup crew are also flying home, having been unable to breach the Soper Dam. Another two planes have been lost from the third wave, and the remaining three are now sent towards the smaller, neighbouring dams.

Now Gibson and Young accompany Shannon, Maudsley and Knight, the last armed pilots, to the Eider Dam, 14 minutes away. There were no defences at the Eider Dam, but it was cradled in a steep, serpentine valley, and the Germans thought that it was sufficiently terrant against attack. The attack run, made by the crews, required a steep, twisting drive, and you couldn't see the target until the last moment. To make matters worse, at the time of the attack, mist was beginning to form in the valley,

thus making it very difficult to judge your height as you dive down towards the lake. The mist makes the dam difficult to find, and they lose several minutes flying west before spotting the reservoir beneath tree-covered hills. Arriving at the dam, Gibson orders Shannon to attack first. Arriving at the dam, Gibson orders Shannon to attack first. The approach proves difficult, with the pilot unable to reach the right height. It takes him five attempts to release the bomb, then it bounces twice before striking the target. Water spurts into the air, and Shannon reports damage to the wall, but the dam doesn't break.

Maudsley takes his turn next. Like Shannon, he struggles to find the right course. He releases his bomb too late and appears to damage his plane in the process. There's no choice but to turn back to Scampton, but tragically, he is shot down in the early hours and never seen again. Now just night remains with his bomb. After scoping the dam out on an initial dummy run, he comes back around and makes his approach for the actual attempt. The very last of the upkeeps is dropped into the dam, bounces three times, and lands with absolute precision.

A great hole appears in the middle of the dam wall. A torrent of water gushes out, ripping more of the wall with it as it floods the valley, engulfing tens of thousands of acres of German countryside. At 1.54 a.m., for the second time that night, Gibson signals a code word back to Scampton. Eider has been breached. By now, Gibson knows time is running out if they want to avoid enemy fire. The Luftwaffe will be well aware of the assault. It's time to go home. The first of the planes arrives back at Scampton at 3.11 a.m.

Gibson lands an hour later, and the final aircraft touches down shortly after six. But it's with a deep grief that the final numbers are recorded. Only 11 of the 19 aircraft have returned. But the news takes a while to filter down. When the men's colleagues in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force lay the mess tables for a celebration breakfast, they set places for all 133 crew members. As the meal is served, no one has the heart to clear away the 53 empty seats. Despite so many lives lost, Operation Chastise is declared a success.

The 80 survivors are given a week off, but Gibson stays behind at Scampton and writes letters to the families of every man killed during the raid. Reconnaissance aircraft return with photographs of the decimated Myrna and Ida dams and show a staggering level of devastation. The hole in the Myrna dam is said to measure 77 meters by 22. Floods have wiped out entire villages and power stations, and around 1,600 civilians and prisoners of war are drowned. Stories of bodies found in waterlogged fields emerge over the coming months. Even Gibson is surprised at the death toll,

remarking later that the fact people might drown had never occurred to him. Despite the outward success of Operation Chastise, it's not without its critics. Some question whether the number of military and civilian lives lost was really worth it. Others, including the Nazis, express surprise that the British didn't attack the dams again during reconstruction, giving them a chance to maximize disruption. And were the dams themselves even significant enough to justify the risk and resources required? There are those who try and play down the operation by saying that the dams were not really worthwhile targets, pointing out that they were repaired by the autumn of 1943. So, in effect, chastise had minimal impact.

in effect, chastise had minimal impact. I would say that the fact that the Germans realized that the dams were vital to their war economy and that they had to be repaired quickly in order to catch the winter rains of 1943 means that they were indeed worthwhile targets. To repair the dams required the diversion of significant manpower, equipment and materials from other important projects, which in turn suffered. Likewise, in order to get elements of the Ruhr's infrastructure and industry running again, the Germans had to take equipment from other parts of Germany, and again this was at the expense of those other areas. So taken overall and in the long term, looking at a broad context, the dams raid made a significant contribution to the bomber offensive and through it to final victory. Regardless of the naysayers, in the aftermath of Operation Chastise, a surge of national pride sweeps through Britain.

What had been Squadron X is now renamed Squadron 617, later dubbed the Dam Busters. Their motto becomes, Après moi, le déluge. After me, the flood. Their badge bears the image of a bombed dam wall. The surviving members emerge as heroes and receive a number of accolades for their contribution and service. At Buckingham Palace, Gibson is awarded the prestigious Victoria Cross for exceptional bravery. He becomes an overnight celebrity,

making memorable appearances on programmes such as BBC Radio's Desert Island Discs, where he selects Flight of the Valkyries as his final musical choice. Despite the adulation, Gibson longs to return to frontline duties. In 1944, he spearheads a raid over Holland, but tragically, it is to be his last. Gibson is killed during the mission because, it is thought, he was unfamiliar with the aircraft. He is just 26 years old. Wallace continues to design and create the Wellington bomber and the Tallboy bomb. He dies in October 1979 at the age of 92, having retired only nine years earlier. The Dam Busters raid wasn't the turning point that some had hoped it would be.

The war dragged on for another two years, and while the lift in the Allies' morale remained palpable, questions about the operation's efficacy and cost lingered. Some skeptics even suggest it was nothing more than a calculated move by the RAF to boost British morale. Yet Operation Chastise came to symbolize military innovation through the use of bouncing bombs. It highlighted the impact of precision bombing tactics and the value of innovation in warfare. Possibly even more enduring is its cultural impact. For the British, the Oscar-winning 1955 film The Dam Busters was the most successful movie of the year at the box office.

In Germany, memorials have been raised at the sites of the dam busters was the most successful movie of the year at the box office in germany memorials have been raised at the sites of the dams to remember this chapter of the war and the civilian lives that were lost to this day the dam busters raids and the memory of the men of squadron 617 stand a solemn testament to the fortitude and resourcefulness of humanity amid the ravages of war. Next time on Short History Of, we'll bring you a short history of the first Persian empire. It's really only in the 20th century, and in particular with the nation building

that takes place even after the Second World War and the last Shah of Iran, that you get a lot of looking back nostalgically to try and create this narrative of 2,500 years of continuous kingship. And it's kind of also a way of saying fairly right that iran is a player on the world stage that it has a role to play in the history of the world and in the history of civilization that's next time.