On 17 April 1942 an audacious daylight bombing mission was flown by RAF Bomber Command against the MAN diesel engine factory at Augsburg, in Bavaria, which was responsible for the production of roughly half of Germany’s output of U‑boat engines. The raid was notable for two main reasons: it was the longest low‑level penetration ever made during World war II, and it was the first daylight mission flown by the Command’s new Lancasters in the teeth of strong enemy opposition.
Because of the havoc wrought by Hitler s U‑boats the MAN factories at Augsburg had long been high on the list of priority targets, but there was a problem. Getting there and back involved a round trip of 1,250 miles over enemy territory, and the MAN factories occupied a relatively small area. With the navigation and bombing aids then available, the chances of a night attack pinpointing and destroying such an objective were very remote, and a daylight precision attack, going on past experience, would be prohibitively costly.
Then, in early 1942 the Lancaster arrived. With its relatively high speed and strong defensive armament, it was possible that a force of Lancasters could reach Augsburg if they went in at low level, underneath the German early‑warning radar. Also, Lancasters flying ‘on the deck’ could not be subjected to attacks from below on their vulnerable underbellies. With the new aircraft, the idea of a deep‑penetration precision attack in daylight was resurrected.
The operation was to be carried out by six crews from No. 44 Squadron, based at Waddington and six from No. 97, stationed at Woodhall Spa in Lincolnshire ‑ the two most experienced Lancaster units. A seventh crew from each squadron would train with the others, to be held in reserve in case anything went wrong at the last moment.
Training for the mission began on 14 April 1942 and for three days the two squadrons practised formation flying at low level, making 1000‑mile flights around Britain and carrying out simulated attacks on targets in northern Scotland. Speculation ran high over the nature of the target. To most of the experienced crews, a low‑level mission signified an attack on enemy warships, a long, straight run into a nightmare of flak. When they eventually filed into their briefing rooms early on 17Apri1, and saw the long red ribbon marking their attack route on the map stretching to Augsburg, a stunned silence descended on them. Even an attack on a major battleship would have been preferable to this.
Flying south to their departure point on the coast, the Lancasters were to cross the English Channel at low level and make landfall at Dives‑sur‑Mer, on the French coast. Shortly before this, bombers of No 2 Group, covered by a massive fighter ‘umbrella’, were to make a series of diversionary attacks on Luftwaffe airfields in the Pas de Calais, Rouen, and Cherbourg areas. The Lancasters’ flight track would take them across enemy territory via Ludwigshafen, where they would cross the Rhine, to the northern tip of the Ammersee, a large lake to the west of Munich and about 20 miles south of Augsburg.
As they approached the target, the bombers were to spread out and create a three‑mile gap between each section Sections would then bomb from low level, in formation, each Lancaster dropping a salvo of four 10001b bombs The ordnance would befitted with 11‑second delayed‑action fuzes, which would give the bombers time to get clear, and would explode well before the next section arrived over the target. Take‑off was to be at 1500 hours. This meant that, if all went well, the first Lancasters would reach the target at 2015, just before dusk. They would thus have the shelter of darkness by the time they reached the danger areas along the Channel coast on the homeward flight.
The Lancasters of No. 44 Squadron were to form the two leading sections. This unit was known as the ‘Rhodesia’ Squadron, and with good reason‑about a quarter of its personnel came from that country. No 44 also contained a number of South Africans, and one of them was chosen to lead the mission. He was Squadron Leader John Dering Nettleton, a tall, dark-haired 25‑year‑old, who had already shown himself to be a highly competent commander, rock‑steady in an emergency.
At three o’clock in the afternoon of 17 April, the quiet Lincolnshire village of Waddington was rudely shaken by the roar of 24 Rolls Royce Merlins as No. 44 Squadron’s six Lancasters took off and headed south for Selsey Bill, the promontory of land jutting out into the Channel between Portsmouth and Bognor Regis. Ten miles due east, at Woodhall Spa, the six bombers of No. 97 Squadron, led by Squadron Leader Sherwood, were also taking off.
Each section left Selsey Bill bang on schedule, the sea a blur below the Lancasters as they sped on. The bombers to left and right of Nettleton were piloted by Flying Officer John Garwell and Warrant Officer Rhodes; the Lancasters in the following section were flown by Flight Lieutenant Sandford, Warrant Officer Crum, and Warrant Officer Beckett. The sky was clear and the hot afternoon sun beat down through the Perspex of cockpits and gun turrets. Before they reached the French coast, most of the crews were flying in shirt sleeves.
The bombers were flying over wooded, hilly country near Breteuil when the flak hit them. Lines of tracer from concealed gun positions met the speeding Lancasters, and the ugly black stains of shell-bursts dotted the sky around them. Shrapnel ripped into two of the aircraft, but they held their course. The most serious damage was to Warrant Officer Beckett’s machine, which had its rear gun turret put out of action.
Then, near Evreux, the Lancaster formation was spotted by enemy fighters. A Messerschmitt Bf 109 came streaking in, singling out Warrant Officer Crum’s Lancaster (in 44’s second section) for his first firing pass. Bullets tore through the cockpit canopy, showering Crum and his navigator, Rhodesian Alan Dedman, with razor‑sharp slivers of Perspex. Dedman looked across at the pilot and saw blood streaming down his face, but when he went to help, Crum just grinned and waved him away. The Lancaster’s own guns hammered, there was a fleeting glimpse of the 109’s pale grey, oil‑streaked belly as it flashed overhead, and then it was gone.
The Lancasters closed up into even tighter formation as 30 more Messerschmitts pounced on them like sharks It was the first time that Luftwaffe fighters had encountered Lancasters, and to begin with the enemy pilots showed a certain amount of caution until they got the measure of the new bomber’s defences. As soon as they realised that its defensive armament consisted of. 303in machine gun:, however, they began to press home their attacks skillfully, coming m from the port quarter and opening fire with their cannon at about 700yds, At 400yds, the limit of the 303’s effective range, they broke away sharply and climbed to repeat the process.
Warrant Officer Beckett was the first to go. A great ball of orange flame ballooned from a wing of his aircraft as cannon shells hit a fuel tank. Seconds later the bomber was a mass of fire. Slowly, the nose went down Spewing burning fragments, the shattered Lancaster hit a clump of trees and disintegrated. 
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Originally Posted by J.J. 
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