2b pencil on A2 , 300gsm Smooth Card
Tommy stays near to where I live and I wanted to do something for him…here is his story courtesy of the Antarctic Medals website
Sub-Lieutenant Thomson was flying Swordfish with 842 Sqdn. beginning in August 1943, aboard the ex-USN escort carrier HMS Fencer on convoy duties in the Western Approaches. His subsequent combat report of the probable destruction of a U-boat on Feb. 10, 1944, puts us in the cockpit:
I started to dive from 500 feet and at the same time my Observer reported 'Tantivy Attacking'. As I approached, the swirl gradually increased until the first part of the conning tower of a U-boat appeared doing 7-8 knots on a course of about 210 degrees. I dived fairly low to about 20 feet and dropped my depth charges across a point just ahead of the conning tower, about two feet of which was showing. Attack was made from just abaft its port beam. My distributor setting was .3 seconds and speed of 120 knots. The depth charges went off straddling the target although for some reason the middle depth charge went off about three seconds later than the other two. The Observer and Air Gunner saw the bows of the U-boat lift out of the water with the first two depth charge explosions but the later one obscured everything although the height of the column was not so great as those of the first two. When the water subsided no part of the U-boat was visible but oil came to the surface and gradually spread out to about 350 feet. No wreckage was visible excepting a few pieces of wood. Although several aircraft were in the vicinity not one followed up my attack. I then dropped a Marine Marker to mark the spot. [ADM 199/466]Fencer’s active anti-U-boat campaign continued, and between April and May she escorted Convoy RA59 from Kola Inlet. Treacherous ice and snow storms battered her aircrews, but they doggedly carried out 62 sorties, making 16 sightings and 12 attacks on enemy submarines. As a result, three more U-boats were destroyed, and on May 1, Thomson circled the area after one such attack. Naval-History.net states the following details:
May 1st - SWORDFISH aircraft "C" of 842 Squadron sank U277 in position 73.24N 15.42E, SW of Bear Island in defence of RA59. There were no survivors from the submarine. May 2nd - SWORDFISH aircraft "B" of 842 Squadron sank U674 in position 70.32N 04.37E, NE of Jan Mayen Island in defence of RA59. There were no survivors from the submarine. SWORDFISH aircraft "K" of 842 Squadron sank U959 in position 69.20N 00.20W, NE of Iceland in defence of RA59. There were no survivors from the submarine.By War’s end, Lieutenant Thomson sported a DSC ribbon on his uniform for skill and determination in attacking the surfacing U-boat. But the fighting was over—now what? A chance meeting at an officer’s club led Thomson to join the Falkland Islands Dependencies Survey (renamed the British Antarctic Survey in 1962).
Roaming around the club were Dr. James M. Wordie, Geologist onboard Endurance (Polar Medal/Antarctic 1914-16) and James Marr, who was a Boy Scout during the Shackleton-Rowett Expedition, 1921-22 (later receiving the silver Polar Medal/Antarctic 1944 and bronze Polar Medal/Antarctic 1929-30 & Antarctic 1928-37). Marr was one of only 18 recipients of both silver and bronze medals.
Wordie and Marr were on a recruiting run for Antarctica and this piqued Thomson’s interest, but when he told Marr that he was a pilot, the Antarctic veteran’s reply was mixed: Marr said there were a lot of pilots around, but apply anyhow. Not having to be asked twice, Thomson applied and was accepted. However, two “small” details remained. He didn’t have a pilot’s license (no need for one in the Navy), so a temporary license to fly in Britain was acquired, and this served for “activities further afield”. Secondly, Willie Thomson married his girl Nan before going south.
On his arrivial at the bottom of the world in November 1946, there were still strong echoes of Scott and Shackleton from childhood heroes, and tremendous enthusiasm in everything, with each person supporting one another.
Thomson was the pilot of the survey team at Base E, Marguerite Bay, on the Antarctic Peninsula. He flew the affectionately named Auster Ice Cold Katy, having with him Biologist Bernard Stonehouse as co-pilot (Polar Medal/Antarctic 1947-49) and Surveyor Reginald L. Freeman as navigator (Polar Medal/Antarctic 1946-47). Their missions were mostly short trips, in support of depot-laying work, to investigate other possible routes to the plateau—and weather was usually difficult or unpredictable.
During the latter part of 1947, a twin-engined American aircraft from the Ronne Antarctic Research Expedition (RARE, 1946-48), also based at Marguerite Bay, was set to carry out aerial photography with trimetrogon equipment. This is a system of aerial photography in which one vertical and two oblique photographs are simultaneously taken for use in topographic mapping. The results were to be tied in with mapping by sledgers across the plateau. Thomson explained his part in the mission:
It had been decided that I would fly over the plateau with two companions [Stonehouse and Freeman] in the Auster to a point about ninety miles south, land blind on the snow to check conditions for the landing of the heavier American aircraft, which would be carrying stores to the first depot. The problem was that there could be a thick layer of soft, fluffy snow into which the aircraft could sink and the Auster could more easily touch, taste and take off again.Thomson and his crew reached the designated spot and touched down without incident. However, their consort was delayed taking off due to trouble starting its engines, so it was some time before the sound of another plane rang in their ears. Thomson ‘set off the red smoke flare and it sent a thick, blood-red gash across the snow, marvellous and obvious. To our total astonishment, it was not seen and the American aircraft went droning past. Again we waited and waited, but it did not return.’
There was nothing to do now but head back to base:
We climbed up close to seven thousand feet before crossing the plateau and set off for base. The high cloud ceiling began to lower and I noticed that our ground speed was diminishing. I increased the throttle setting until even with full throttle we were making little progress into a tremendous wind. There was little point in maintaining this course so I turned across the plateau to head down to the sea ice on the same side of the peninsula as the base. The light was beginning to fade, but I could just see a glacier away on the left… I followed the glacier down, losing height, the aircraft was bucking about in the turbulence, someone was being sick in the back, it was snowing now, the air intake was becoming choked and the starved engine was coughing and spluttering. The glacier curved round to the left and I had to keep in close visual touch with both the steep wall and the ice underneath; it was becoming quite dark. By the time we reached the sea ice I could see very little, but I thought that I could do a slow carrier-type landing and all would be well. I could only see straight down. Suddenly, to my horror, I saw the ghostly shape of a large tabular berg slide beneath the Auster… The skis touch and for a couple of seconds I thought we had made it safely. Then one ski caught on a small projecting piece of ice and the aircraft turned slowly onto its back. There was no fire, only a broken aircraft, no-one was hurt. I stuffed the little matelot monkey into my pocket and he has been with us ever since.
