Trying to get to the bottom of a story my Dad told me (and several other people) when I was younger. While he was on an unknown ship (presumably a warship), a lone US aircraft (I think he said Flying Fortress, but that may be vague) was approaching on a course that would take it over the group of ships. Dad was told to issue the challenge of the day to the aircraft, which he did. After four subsequent challenges (one on a twenty inch signal lamp, absolutely unmissable) the aircraft still kept coming. In the end the captain issued the order to bring it down, which was carried out. The aircraft, amazingly, was not badly damaged and the crew managed to bale out. They were retrieved from the sea and, after much cursing and insults, confronted the captain who immediately read the riot act about the procedure for overflying allied ships. Dad was not the kind of person to fabricate stories, but having checked the list of 'friendly fire' incidents from WW2 (I prefer the term 'blue on blue') nothing like this shows up. Please tell me this happened.
Hi Popeye, Which list is this? Who compiled it? What source material did they reference? Does it claim to be as exhaustive a collection of reports as it could be? I'd imagine that a Captain would've recorded this in the ship's log, particularly if he thought there might be charges levelled or a complaint... Depends doesn't it. By that I mean who witnessed it / who would've been inclined to report it. My father told me that one of his mates who'd fought initially with another battalion in Italy guiltily recounted how he shot at men he'd mistaken as German only later to discover that he'd killed Americans. He admitted this to another guardsman, but probably not to his company commander ... in any case there's nothing in the battalion war diary. At the same time Dad told me about another incident during an action when he was stopped by a sergeant from shooting at approaching german soldiers with his Bren because the sergeant thought the men were British. An error that might have easily resulted in his section taking even more casualties that it already had that day. He himself was almost a victim of friendly fire - so they thought at the time - but the war diary later records that the allied aircraft involved were in fact captured/crewed by Germans. Here's two differing accounts of another incident ... 1IG War Diary 1940 April 26 Liland, Norway The Commanding Officer had a thrilling reconnaissance on the “AURORA”, and their target practice accounted for a barracks, a telephone exchange and a chain of lorries. As the officers left the cruiser to return to LILAND, three enemy aircraft at a great height dropped six bombs, which landed in the Bay, at very close range to their objective. The cruiser’s anti-aircraft fire was very accurate, and kept the pilots at great height. The Admiral, who arrived immediately afterwards in his own seaplane, was lucky to avoid this bombardment by so narrow a margin. From The History of the Irish Guards during the Second World War, FitzGerald : Three German bombers were overhead. The cruiser’s guns kept the aircraft up at a great height, but some of the bombs fell unpleasantly close. In the fishing boat they could clearly see the bombs glittering in the sun directly overhead and called for more speed from the engines. Thousands of stunned fish floated up to the surface. When the bombers had gone the Norwegians scrambled into rowing boats and had the easiest day’s fishing in their lives. The “puffer” reached LILAND pier just as a seaplane flew in low over the village. It was an old Walrus from H.M.S. Southampton, carrying the Admiral to Aurora. The anti-aircraft post by the pier greeted it with a sharp burst of Bren gun fire. The seaplane climbed steeply and then came down again and circled round for recognition. The Bren gun opened up again. “Who is in charge of that post?” asked Colonel FAULKNER. “Lance-Corporal LUDLOW, sir.” Lance-Corporal LUDLOW (generally known as “Twenty to Four” from the angle of his feet) was marched into the Commanding Officer’s Orders the next morning as “idle in the recognition of aircraft.” Sympathetic friends were waiting for him outside the Battalion H.Q. “What did you get?” “Reprimand.” “What for?” “Missing a low-flying admiral.”
I must admit that I Googled 'Friendly Fire WW2' and was directed to the dreaded Wikepedia. I also must admit that Dad mentioned that it was very early in the war so the possibility is that it was an aircraft being ferried across from the USA, but he was in the med from 1940 to 1942 so the mystery deepens
I think your dad's story could be true, as I get the impression that incidents weren't always reported 'officially', and where they were reported details that could paint a unit/officer in a negative light weren't necessarily recorded. I've got a good example from the regiment I'm researching (130th Field Regiment RA) where I've found four primary sources, none of which agree on what happened, and depending on which account you believe it was either "nothing that need be mentioned" or "a monumental ***-up". The incident took place early in the First Arakan Campaign on the 4th January 1943, while the regiment's 494 Battery was advancing into the Mayu Peninsula. 5/8 Punjab was sweeping the area and called for an artillery concentration to be fired against suspected enemy positions on a terrain feature called Conical Hill. This was the very first combat action of the war for the 130th Field Regiment, and the first time that their 25-pounders had fired 'in anger'. What is certain is that 494's Battery Commander (87729 Major William Breckenridge) and four Other Ranks of the unit were killed, with other men injured.This is the entirety of what is recorded in the regiment's War Diary about the event: Major BRECKENRIDGE O.C. 494 Fd Bty, Captain WATSON, and 4 O.Rs killed in action on MAYU PEN, Captain BUTTERWORTH was wounded in the wrist and had to be evacuated. Captain MacQUEEN, the Bty Capt took comd and Lt.LAWRENCE and Lt.REAR were promoted to fill Captains' vacancies. This was by far the worst single one-day loss the regiment suffered in the campaign, apart from a bombing raid on Maungdaw during the retreat in May 43. As you can see, there's no mention at all of what was happening, how the men were killed, or report of any sort of investigation or error. It is never mentioned again in the War Diary or appendices. In December 1943 the Commanding Officer of the Regiment, Colonel Ronnie Nicholson, wrote up a history of the regiment's exploits during the First Arakan Campaign. This is what he recorded Between 2nd and 4th Jan, 47 Bde continued to move SOUTH… Little opposition had been encountered. 494 Battery moved into a position near THAWINCHAUNG and were ordered to carry out a small fire plan in support of an operation against CONICAL HILL, on 4th Jan. This, the first action for the Regiment turned out to be a tragedy. One shell in the concentration fell short and burst in the O.P. Captain WATSON, Bdr RUSSELL, Gnr PRICE, Gnr KEEGAN,and Gnr SINGFIELD were killed. Major W BRECKENRIDGE was seriously wounded and died later. Capt BUTTERWORTH was severely wounded in the wrist. The news of this disaster was received at RHQ by wireless from CRA and immediate replacements were requested. Lt. CORNELIUS was the only unwounded person of the party and he returned to the bty with the news. Lt. REAR was despatched with a new O.P. party and after a difficult march through the jungle and in the darkness, he eventually reached the O.P. by following the telephone line. With the aid of the new party he buried the dead and maintained the O.P. until later ordered to come back. Lt. MUNDIE (316 Bty) was sent from COX’S BAZAAR and Lt. DAVIDSON (315 Bty) from CHITTAGONG together with signallers from both btys. So according to Col. Nicholson a single shell of the barrage fell short and by sheer bad luck caught the O.P. 5/8 Punjab appear to have had representatives at the O.P. and this is what is recorded in their War Diary: This evening we learned of the unfortunate casualties on CONICAL HILL sustained from our own Arty. One shell fell short and killed two Gunner B.O.s and B.O.R. and of 5/8 Punjab 1 I.O.R. killed 1 I.O.R. wounded and Sub. Battan Singh I.D.S.M. seriously wounded in leg. Japs appear to have retired completely from this area. As you can see, they agree with the single shell, although the casualty numbers are significantly different, and they mention 5/8 Punjab losses which aren't mentioned by 130 Fd Regt. However, a personal account from a man at the O.P. exists, and is related in his 2004 memoir (Shell-Shocked! From Arakan to Mandalay 1942-1945 by Bill Bryden): After a hurried conference at the command post, the OP personnel from E and F Troops were mustered in preparation for an expedition destined for the higher hills on our left flank forward of the gun positions. There was to be an eight-gun full-battery barrage, therefore it had been decided to take double the usual required staff. Included in the group was the old man himself, Major William Breckenridge. Theirs is not to reason why, but I failed to comprehend the size of the party (as it was often called) and was further puzzled by the amount of equipment we had to hump on our backs as well as a rifle and a bandolier of fifty rounds of .303 ammunition. The equipment included a No. 11 wireless, normally used in a carrier or wireless truck. The set required two very heavy 6V accumulators, aerial and ancillary equipment, i.e. mike, headphones, ground-aerial leads and remote-control phone unit. We also had a signalling lamp, field telephone, heliograph and tripod, steel helmet and a blanket each as we may stay away for some time, rations of sorts and water bottles. Pack mules were unsuitable where we were to go. The party moved off early. It was January 3rd, 1943. We crossed a tidal estuary a short distance ahead of the guns then we turned left and moved straight ahead towards the same creek further inland. The water was chest high as we waded across, carrying our delicate instruments above our heads then returning for the remainder. The hot sun began to beat down on us as we wallowed under our load and approached the bamboo-clad slopes ahead, rising straight up, pointing to a cloudless sky. The climb began immediately as we slithered on the wet, slimy undergrowth, the base of the bamboo stems giving us the only foothold. The men cursed their dilemma and I wondered how we would ever make it, but we did eventually and the summit offered us a welcome respite. Nothing but thick bamboo-covered valleys and scrub could be seen, except the distant dunes and ocean behind us to the west. The signallers tuned in the wireless, but due to excessive static it was declared useless. However, the field telephone was working OK hooked on a single-line earth-return circuit. Later in the afternoon we called up the guns to send over a few single ranging shots. The ranges were confirmed and plotted on a sketched chart, and as the trajectory required a high angle of sight we used a charge-two cartridge so that the guns had to fire at a higher elevation. This was the chief characteristic of a howitzer compared with a field gun, which used a fixed shell-cartridge combination similar in design to a rifle bullet. We closed down for the night but maintained a listening watch. Next morning, 4th January, the stage was set for the impending barrage, which duly arrived on schedule much closer than predicted. All hell was let loose. We were not dug in, the peak of the hill was rock hard, we were in the direct line of fire and it soon became obvious that the trajectory was too low. Too late – shells were bursting all around us. It quickly dawned on me that the guns were firing on charge three instead of charge two as directed the night before, for I had sent the message but it had subsequently been converted down at the command post in error. Screaming shells were exploding everywhere. I threw myself hard against a fallen tree and could hardly believe it was our own guns. The shells were classed as anti-personnel, which meant they explode virtually on touching the mere surface causing the maximum surface concussion as well as the shrapnel from the metal casing itself. Soon there were the inevitable screams from wounded comrades suffering from terrible wounds and calling for help. I could feel my body being violently compressed with every explosion. The pungent smell of cordite was everywhere while the shrapnel whined all around us. ‘Angry shells’ was a term used by old soldiers when one happened to be at the receiving end, and my experience could never have been more fittingly described. Due to the accuracy and concentration inadvertently brought down on us by our own gunners, it was sheer hell let loose on unsuspecting victims. Just as suddenly and on a predicted pattern, I jumped up as the barrage ceased temporarily. I knew there would be a ten-minute interval as I clambered back to my post. The wireless and phone were out of action, but the heliograph was miraculously still intact. Racing against time before the next onslaught, I turned to my BC [the Battery Commander, Major Breckenridge] who was calm though mortally wounded while our Troop Captain nursed a wrist wound and Lieutenant Cornelius attended the dismembered and dying. “OK to order a cease-fire, sir?” “Yes, Signaller, do what you can, don’t mind me.” Then he added “Give him some whisky out of my haversack will you, Cornelius. Someone must get a message through to the guns. Carry on, Signaller.” Bob Picken appeared from nowhere, dazed but still in one piece, and a second signaller joined us as we set up the heliograph. I tried to pinpoint the gun position when a second barrage opened up in a more concentrated fury. The hellish carnage was repeating itself as my wounded mates received further punishment. I could tell by heart-rending renewed cries for help. If animals had to suffer such agonies it would be classed as humane to terminate their hopeless situation, I was in an unenviable position and had to refuse them an act of mercy. I waited for the next lull, rushed up to assess the damage and discovered Picken was missing while my other signaller laid stiff beside a scorched blanket at the nearest shell’s point of impact, a mere dent on the ground surface. My friend was peppered with small pieces of shrapnel; his death had been instantaneous. I searched around and found the heliograph still intact, but the hinged legs of the tripod a bit wobbly. I wasted no time and flashed SOS continuously towards the shimmering sand dunes. Lieutenant Cornelius handed me a second cup of Old Angus whisky then offered to write the message as I sent and received the Morse signals. We had no message pad but used my army pay book instead. I continued to send SOS hoping it would be seen by someone, bearing in mind that a heliograph beam has only an eight foot beam dispersal over one mile, gradually widening according to distance. It was a trying experience. My dying comrades were calling me by name to help them, but there was nothing we could do except get a first-aid team to fetch morphine and shovels. Time dragged on as I relentlessly tried to pinpoint the gun-position signallers. I had a persistent nature and it paid off when a flicker of light beamed on me slightly to my left. I focused my mirrors on the new location, repeated SOS twice then sent a short message for immediate assistance using G-for-George procedure, where every letter was sent twice. This method was to prevent the enemy from picking up the flashes from the other station which faced the enemy territory. There was a long pause. All I required was a long dash for acknowledgement, but instead they signalled me ‘in clear’ asking me who I was and where did I live. It was obvious they were puzzled; perhaps they thought it was an enemy hoax. I replied in our local doric vernacular spelling, which seemed to convince them. Lieutenant Cornelius wrote down the answer we’d hoped and prayed for: “Aldridge and stretcher-bearers leaving immediately. How many casualties?” That was the memorial written inside the back pages of my now long-lost army pay book. The rescue team climbed those soul-destroying, greasy bamboo slopes in record time. I had held on as long as I could and was very deep in shock. My body was in a state of collapse, but I felt I had done my duty for my helpless, dying comrades whom I shall always remember. I write hoping their deaths have not been in vain. As the stretcher party arrived after an arduous climb through bamboo-covered mud and scrub, the medical orderly administered morphine to my mortally wounded comrades, whose weakening and relentless cries for help had added further to my own horrifying experience – especially as my name was repeatedly raised in their anguished appeals for help. Their wounds were so hopeless that it was futile to move them. I was duly ordered back to the gun position and told to report to the RAP first-aid tent as I was very week and in deep shock. The second measure of whisky was having a numbing effect on my troubled brain but I was confident that I could make the return journey alone. On that assurance I was allowed to leave the OP. This is completely at odds with the 'official' accounts, suggesting that it wasn't a single unfortunate short but the entire battery firing on the wrong charge and plastering the O.P. with shellfire. Either Bryden is on a complete flight of fancy or there was some degree of cover up in the official records, as without his personal account nothing more would be known. One thing of note is that the regiment's field returns show another Breckenridge amongst the officers, quite possibly a relative of the Major who was killed, so this may have been a factor in the War Diary quietly drawing a veil over the incident. Although it doesn't explain why the CO's history and the 5/8 Punjab diary have such a different account from Bryden. I'd be interested to hear anyone's opinions on this as I'm still not sure. Interestingly, General Sir Martin Farndale, in his History of the Royal Regiment of Artillery (p.134), notes that the C.O. of the Royal Welch Fusiliers wrote on 2nd April that “The 130th are a very different proposition to the 99th. They will not put their SOS fire nearer to us than 200 yards - useless when we've been used to 40 yards; this is rather strange to say the least”. Was this ‘over-caution’ a result of the disaster at Conical Hill? Although conversely, on 19th March Brigadier Cavendish of 6 Brigade wrote a personal letter of thanks to the Regiment which includes the line “We all appreciate so much the way in which you did everything you could to help us. It was also outstanding and has been remarked upon by everyone, that not one shell in all that complicated fire plan damaged our troops”. 130 Field spent five months in the Arakan, delivering an exhausting number of demanding and complicated barrages: if Conical Hill was the result of a simple and critical error, it appears that it is one that was never repeated. As to how the mistake could have occurred, a portion of the blame may rest with inadequacies in training; as Nicholson notes, it had been extremely difficult to carry out training of any kind in East Bengal, and no brigade exercises had taken place in the run up to the First Arakan Campaign. Although the Regiment had been issued with 25-pounders in September/October 1941, there had been only a few opportunities for practice camps and field firing tests in the intervening months.
Thanks, Pack Rat, for that report. Quite an eye-opener. For years Dad stuck by that story, recounting how when the ship sent a cutter out to retrieve the men who had baled out the ship's company were actually running bets on how many got out. Nobody had any money on all of them. The language of the bomber crew as they were hauled aboard was suitably colourful, sprinkled liberally with colonial references to English sexual habits. I wish, however, I had taken the time to ask my old man which ship he was on at the time
This is in no way scientific but as I think of the myriad of accounts I've read the ratio of 'friendly fire' casualties must be higher than anyone would guess. From mistaken bombing in Operation Totalize (300+ casualties), to short artillery rounds, mistaken identity, misfire accidents and trigger happy soldiers, the reported incidents are very common.
Friendly fire ? We had it in spades and yes, it was recorded. Take a look at this page of the War Records of my unit, the 49th Light Ack Ack Rgt RA The date was November 1943, this was our first year in Italy and just count how many times we were attacked by "friendly" planes There used to be a saying in the unit at the time which went as follows When the Luftwaffe fly overhead, the British take cover When the British fly overhead, the Jerry's take cover When the Yanks fly overhead, we ALL take cover !!!!!! Ron
The 1st Lothians War diary also has a report of an incident - this time the RAF being the culprits. More seriously the Regiment lost one killed and seven wounded in Feb 45 during a night attack as part of operation GRENADE, when US tanks of the 743 Tk Bn mistook the flails of 2Tp 1 Lothians for the enemy and engaged them from the rear. The incident appears to have been quite thoroughly investigated with sworn statements being taken from several of the British and US officers involved. John
116th Light Anti Aircraft Regiment War Diary NWE Le Mont 8/8/44 381 battery, 12.35hrs Fortress dropped 6 bombs crashed 1-2 miles 8/8/44 engagement rep from C Troop 19.10 hrs ,20 round (bofors) fired at 8 Thunderbolts machine gunning and dive bombing also engaged by J troop
From 5th Camerons war diary 13th June 1944, Appendix A. Their opening barrage fell on the start line. My Father was there at the time and related the story to me. There was another occasion where the US Airforce strafed them followed almost immediately by the RAF.
I have always been struck by these comments of my Dad's former CO, John Horsfall, when he recalled the time when the Irish Brigade were with 5th Army for a short period in early October 1944 north of Castel del Rio... "....Unfortunately, that night in the aftermath of the action, one of the American signal detachments collided with one of our own posts in the darkness and were shot down and killed to a man. We were not then used to the American helmets, whose outline in the darkness so nearly resembled the enemy’s and there were other near misses for similar reasons as well as to the fact of stray Americans being liable to be found almost anywhere when operations were in progress. The following morning, I went round to the regimental commander of the 351st US Infantry and, expressing my regrets, he received me like a brother. ‘Think nothing of it – it happens every night,’ he said, patting me on the shoulder and pouring me out a stiff gin. I prefer to remember his generosity rather than the possible truth of the comment...." edit update - the war diaries suggest it was the night of 8/9 October 1944.
While we are discussing "Friendly fire" I've dug up this posting I made back in 2011 which covered the same point: "I suppose this would come under the heading of friendly fire I first wrote about it on the BBC People's War site under the title of "The day my brother Mick nearly killed me" First of all, some background to the day itself. Mick, who is three years older than I, was called up in 1939 (whereas I was not called up until 1942). He was originally an Infantryman, serving in the 22nd Battalion, Royal Fusiliers and spent the next three years serving all over Britain, most of this time as a Sergeant Instructor. When the War Office needed more anti-tank units, he took courses on the 2-pounder, 6-pounder and eventually l7-pounder guns. In 1945 he heard of the formation of the Jewish Brigade and, eager to join in the fighting, volunteered to join the unit. He arrived in Naples on January l3th, l945, and after eight days in Eboli joined the Jewish Field Regiment at St Bartolemeo, leaving there on his birthday, the l5th of March, for a regimental hide about lO kilometres from the front. The Regiment, consisting of three battalions of excellent infantry, had already been in action and had fought superbly. Mick found himself in bivouacs near a dirty Italian farmhouse, close by some Polish troops near Forli and by March l945 his unit was an established part of the Eighth Army Anyway, as the war in Italy was coming to its close I had a letter from Mick to say that he had arrived in Italy and was a battery sergeant major with the Jewish Brigade. Once I knew this, I started looking out for regimental or brigade signs that would give me a clue as to where he was and so give us a chance to meet. The fates conspired against us, however, and as the action was so fluid at the time I had no chance to get away from my unit to find him. What did happen however, was that on the last big push over the Senio I discovered that the guns giving our own unit covering fire were actually the Jewish Brigade's. The inevitable happened, and when some shells fell short, SSM Busty Thomas, my tank commander, said to me in his lovely Welsh accent: "Your blooty brotter will bl****n' kill us yet!" Two diary entries of around that time make interesting reading: Mick: April lOth: We commenced firing again at 4.2Oam. Zero hour 04.3O. Worried about my brother Ron who's also in the region with the Eighth Army. All five boys of our family in the services. Ron: April 9th: Moved to other side of Traversare. Dug in and have bivvie to myself. D day and H hour have started. One rocket landed fairly near. Leaflets dropped." Ron
