Cyril Joe Barton VC DFM (1921 - 1944)

Born 5 Jun 1921 in Elveden, Suffolk, England, United Kingdom

Died 31 Mar 1944 at age 22 in Kingston upon Thames, London, England, United Kingdom

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Biography

On 5 September 1943, he joined an aircrew assigned to Bomber Command's No. 78 Squadron, with Barton receiving a commission as a pilot officer three weeks later. Their first operational mission was against a target at Montlucon in occupied France. Barton completed nine sorties with No. 78 Squadron until 15 January 1944, when he was posted to No. 578 Squadron, based at RAF Burn in North Yorkshire. His second sortie with the new squadron was an attack upon the city of Stuttgart in Germany, flying in Halifax LK797 (codename LK-E). By 30 March 1944, he had completed six sorties in LK797, which the crew had named Excalibur. Prior to his final mission from RAF Burn, Barton had already taken part in four attacks upon Berlin.[3]

• Attack on Nuremberg

On the night of 30 March 1944, while flying in an attack on the city of Nuremberg, in Germany, during the Battle of Berlin air offensive, whilst 70 miles (110 km) from the target, Pilot Officer Barton's Handley Page Halifax bomber (Serial number: LK797) was badly shot-up in attacks by two Luftwaffe night-fighters, a Junkers Ju 88 and a Messerschmitt 210,[3] resulting in two of its fuel tanks being punctured, both its radio and rear turret gun port being disabled, the starboard inner engine being critically damaged and the internal intercom lines being cut. In a running battle, despite the attacks being persistent and determined, Barton as captain of the aircraft succeeded by good flying in throwing off and escaping his faster and more agile assailants. However, a misunderstanding in on-board communications in the aircraft at the height of the crisis resulted in three of the 7-man crew bailing out, leaving Barton with no navigator, bombardier or wireless operator. Rather than turn back for England, he decided to press on with the mission, against the odds of further attacks in a semi-wrecked aircraft that was leaking fuel and handicapped by lack of a full crew. Arriving over the target, he released the bomb payload himself and then, as Barton turned the aircraft for home, its ailing starboard engine blew-up. Subsequently he nursed the damaged airframe over a four-and-a-half-hour flight with no navigational assistance back across the hostile defences of Germany and occupied Europe, and across the North Sea. As LK797 crossed the English coast at dawn 90 miles to the north of its base its fuel ran out because of the battle damage leakage and, with only one engine still running on vapours, and at too low a height to allow a remaining crew bail-out by parachute, Barton crash-landed the bomber at the village of Ryhope, steering away in the final descent from the houses and coal pit-head workings. Barton was pulled from the wrecked aircraft alive but died of injuries sustained in the landing before he reached the hospital. The three remaining on-board members of the crew survived the forced landing. One local man, a miner, also died when he was struck by a piece of the aeroplane's wreckage during the impact of the crash.[4][5]

After Barton's death his mother received a posthumous letter addressed to her from him containing the following passage: "I hope that you will never receive this letter, but I quite expect that you will. I know what "Ops." over Germany means, and I have no illusions about it. By my own calculations the average lifespan of an aircrew is twenty ops(operations). and we have 30 to do in our first tour. I'm Writing this for two reasons. One to tell you how I would like my money to be spent that I have left behind me; two to tell you how I feel about meeting my Maker. 1. I intended as you know, taking a university course with my savings. Well, I would like it to be spent over the education of my brothers and sisters. 2. All I can say about this is that I am quite prepared to die It holds no terror for me. At times I've wondered whether I've been right in believing what I do, and just recently I've doubted the veracity of the Bible, but in the little time I've had to sort out intellectual problems I've been left with a bias in favour of the Bible. Apart from this, though, I have the inner conviction as I write, of a force outside myself, and my brain tells me that I have not trusted in vain. All I am anxious about is that you and the rest of the family will also come to know Him. Ken, I know already does. I commend my Saviour to you. I am writing to Doreen separately. I expect you will have guessed by now that we are quite in love with each other. Well, that's covered everything now I guess, so love to Dad and all, Your loving son Cyril.".[6] The attack on Nuremberg was Barton's nineteenth sortie.[7]

In a last letter to his younger brother shortly before his death, Barton wrote: "I am quite prepared to die, death hold no terrors for me. I have done nothing to merit glory."

From Handley Page ASSN

HANDLEY PAGE HALIFAX - THE EVENT AT RYHOPE COLLIERY In March 1944 Halifax LK797 of 578 Squadron took part in the Nuremberg raid. The damaged aircraft was skilfully flown back to England only to crash land. Kevin Hutchinson recalls that night near Sunderland. Early in the morning of 31 March 1944, while it was still dark, as a child I was awakened by the sound of the air raid warning. I had heard it many times before, but never when it was accompanied by the noise of a large aircraft flying nearby.

I was in bed at No.10 South View, Ryhope Colliery, of which the main feature was a sixty feet high escarpment, causing it to be known locally as Vinegar Hill. The village was located a few miles south of Sunderland. No.10 South View wasn’t my real home, that was in a farming village some six miles to the west, but because of a family tragedy and subsequent complications – my mother had died from tuberculosis and my father was away in North Africa with the Royal Army Service Corps – I was being looked after by an aunt and uncle, a coal-mining family. My aunt came into the room and explained that there was nothing to be concerned about and there was no need to get up, as the Germans were after the coal mine itself, which was about three hundred yards away. As my carers showed no intention to go to the Anderson Shelter in the garden just across the road, I relaxed and started drifting off again. Until, that is, the Leechmere Ack-Ack battery, just to the north of us, started firing their heavy stuff! That changed our attitude somewhat, but very soon afterwards the All-Clear sounded and the firing stopped. We could still hear the aircraft, however, circling over the area, so we were puzzled. Now I mentioned that it was dark, and there could be no doubt that “The Blackout” was in force, with no outside lights permitted, so the aircraft’s crew were dependent on their navigation skills and not by any assistance from our side. The sound of the aircraft became quieter, and then suddenly C-R-A-S-H ... then silence.

A couple of hours later, now with daylight reigning, a friend of the family came to see us. He was dressed in RAF uniform with white cap tabs indicating that he was a trainee aircrewman. He took me to see the site of the event. Parallel to South View, about thirty yards away, was Hollicarrside Terrace. It was evident that the aircraft had flown the length of the terrace, losing height until it knocked the chimney pots off the gable-end of the last house. Now, at ground level, it destroyed the end house of another terrace which was at right-angles to Hollicarrside Terrace, leaving the still-burning upstairs fireplace in place. It then continued through the front garden of that house. The port wing of the aircraft, inevitably, made its way along the lead-in to a footbridge across a narrow railway cutting, wrecking the lead-in totally. The aircraft had then crossed the railway cutting, destroying the footbridge and killing our next-door neighbour Mr. Heads, who was using the footbridge to go to work in the colliery. The nose of the aircraft had struck the far side of the cutting, causing the rest of the aircraft to break off and cartwheel beyond the cutting and down to the foot of the escarpment with the front of the aircraft falling into the cutting. I could see that a salvage team was already in the cutting with a couple of flat-bodied trucks, clearing away the wreckage. Later I learned that the pilot had been taken to the hospital at Cherry Knowle, at the southern edge of Ryhope, where he had died.

Years later I was to discover that the pilot was Cyril Barton, the only Halifax aircrew member to have been awarded the Victoria Cross. He was only 22. All his fellow crew members survived.

Sources

• *https://www.google.com/search?q=C.J+Barton+VC&rlz=1C1NHXL_en-GBAU939AU939&oq=C.J+Barton+VC&aqs=chrome..69i57j33i160l3.5786j0j4&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8&si=AC1wQDBgEJLyWEcKt9OBq7RdshITSQaAXOzg9hR_e1njZgCx2URkfh5nKDU_n4lfbl0M47td0qT8ZjOZkAW_y7S7qLXR2GqjGGiXjSkefMzTA9aTHMGVx0I%3D&ictx=1&ved=2ahUKEwjiiq7jztT6AhU-4TgGHWIiAS4Q9YYDKAN6BAgwEAc

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyril_Joe_Barton

Handley Page Newsletter May 2024 - via Editor Alan Dowsett