Johnny Johnson, the last Dambuster
The RAF’s 617 ‘Dambuster’ Squadron was responsible for the famous dam-busting wartime raid of the Ruhr Valley in Germany.
When I discovered that only one crewmember was still alive, I quickly resolved to meet him and with a couple of colleagues, pay a visit to Scampton (617’s base) for the second time in my career, and fly to the dams, taking the very same route the Squadron’s Lancasters took, all those years ago. We would also plan to visit the dams by road.
But, paraphrasing what Robert Burns once wrote, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry; being In the midst of closing down, Scampton was too busy to entertain a visit, and the third member of our group was rightly concerned with the mounting costs. I reluctantly decided to cancel. Well, postpone all the visits except for meeting the Squadron Leader himself, Johnny Johnson MBE, the last surviving Dambuster and a man incredibly proud to have been a founder member of such an illustrious squadron. Even this wasn’t easily arranged, but, with the help of his daughter, Jenny, and Neil, a colleague of mine who is fiercely interested in the 2nd World War and I, set off to Johnny’s care home in Bristol, where, at the age of 100 and counting, Johnny is their most celebrated resident and rightly so.
I suppose, for many, the story of the Dambusters has disappeared into the pages of Second World War history books but it is truly a tale of enormous courage and daring and one which gave heart to a British public eager for good news in wartime UK.
It started on the evening of the 16th May, 1943 and was aptly named Operation Chastise. Historians have argued about its true effectiveness or value, but Johnny has a simple answer to the doubting Thomases: “Were you there? Did you see it? Did you experience what I experienced? Do you have any idea what it was like - not just for us, but for the general public in Britain?” Of course, the answer is “no” to each question and his response: “Well, don’t make statements about something you have no concept of.”
The Dambusters used the famous bouncing bomb to attack three dams, controlling water to the Ruhr Valley, the industrial heartland of Germany: the Mohne Dam, the Eder and the Sorpe. The bouncing bomb was the invention of Sir Barnes Wallis, an already esteemed aeronautic engineer. He proposed the use of a skipping, oil-drum-shaped bomb, which would be dropped from an Avro Lancaster at a precise speed and height. The bomb, known as the Upkeep, should bounce across the water, hit the side of the dam, sink and explode. The plan worked for the Mohne and Eder dams with dramatic effect; however, it was less effective on Johnny’s target, the Sorpe, which was built to a different design and able to withstand the blast. For the Sorpe Dam, it was also necessary to attack it along its length rather than its width. The target was now a thin strip rather than a wide dam and the bouncing principal was not to be used. This presented a far more difficult prospect which made the task even more challenging for Johnny, the Bomb Aimer.
Both Neil and I had read Johnny’s book before meeting him and already had a sense of his life and personality. Interestingly, Johnny had gone to the same school, Lord Wandsworth College in North Hampshire which Neil’s son had attended, so we had common ground to talk about immediately. But we didn’t need it.
Upon meeting, Johnny immediately directed the conversation. “What do you want to know? Why are you here?” We were with him for two hours and it felt like two minutes. As a young man, Johnny was keen to give Hitler ‘a bloody nose’ and was anxious to join in the fight against Nazism. Unfortunately, Johnny had failed pilot training but fully accepted that some are born to fly as a pilot and others are not. His initial flight training in the States had not gone well and he accepted his instructor’s opinion without argument. He instead became a bomb-aimer and he was very good at it. On the day of the raid, and before he was satisfied that he could make a direct hit, Johnny required his pilot to fly ten passes before the bomb was released.
Johnny had already flown the mandatory tour of 30 raids and could have ceased active flying then. But he was pleased to volunteer for this secret mission and it was only on the day of the raid that the true destination was revealed. The courage displayed by him and his colleagues at such young ages was astonishing.
Physically Johnny is now frail, but his mind is alert and his attitude strong. His outlook on life is still fresh and optimistic. His room was filled with memorabilia gathered during his Air-Force career and he has no problem recalling names and dates. When asked why there were only 6 people in the famous crew photograph, he drily replied: “Well, the seventh was taking the picture!” His recollection of Guy Gibson, the Squadron Commander, was fascinating. It would appear he was ferociously brave and respected but not someone especially liked by his men. Gibson was just 24 yrs. old when he led the raid and had almost no concern for his own survival. Unfortunately, he would die in a plane crash, flying a Mosquito just a year later; the circumstances are still a mystery.
The meeting with Johnny was wonderful and we did indeed eventually carry out the flight to the dams. The German ATC were unbelievably cooperative, and we found ourselves circling the dams at minimum safety altitude (slightly higher than 50 ft) and taking almost 100 photographs. Upon our first sighting of the Mohne Dam - it was as though an electric shock had passed through my body. It was exactly as I had seen it on the cinema posters as a 14-year-old boy.
As that 14-year-old ATC cadet, I would stand outside my local Rembrandt cinema collecting money for the Air Force Benevolent Fund when the famous 1955 Dambuster film was being played to modern late 1960s audiences, not believing that one day I would actually meet one of the crew.
Johnny himself had a difficult start in life. His father had been a hard man who’d offered little support to his son. He was lucky to find himself studying at Lord Wandsworth College and from there going into the Royal Air Force and Johnny would stress how luck had been a major factor in his life.
133 men took part in Operation Chastise, 19 crews with 7 men on board each aircraft. The raid involved 19 Lancaster bombers. Eight aircraft and crews were lost. 53 crew lost their lives and three were captured. It was said that Barnes Wallis wept when he learnt the sad outcome for so many airmen.
It was nonetheless considered an enormous success for the Royal Air Force. 13 German factories were destroyed and the German War production hampered for six months. The RAF had penetrated and damaged the very heartland of its enemy and the morale of the country was raised at a time when it was most needed.
80 men survived the raid. Of these, 22 were killed subsequently serving on 617 squadron but, later in the war, ten more lost their lives while serving with other squadrons. Only 48 men who took part in the raid survived the war, and Johnny is the last of their number.
Johnny has no explanation for his longevity. He had a very successful, life-long marriage, children, grand and great grandchildren and he still loves the occasional glass of Rioja. Once active flying-service for Johnny ended, he continued as a trainer in the Air Force and enjoyed several interesting postings. When he eventually left the RAF, he became a teacher for under-privileged children. The world had gone full circle, for he too was an under-privileged child and was pleased to ‘give back’.
It is a privilege to know that I’ve met the last Dambuster; and it was a meeting I will never forget. Next year will be the 80th anniversary of the famous raid and I very much hope that Johnny will still be here to celebrate the success of that raid.
Johnny Johnson’s book The Last British Dambuster can be purchased through Amazon.