Virtual
War Memorial
Australia

Colin Gregory Phelps was born at Glenelg in September 1913, a year prior to the outbreak of World War I .

He worked on the family market garden not far from what is now the Westfield shopping centre at Marion.  He became interested at an early age in motorbikes.

After World War II broke out, Colin enlisted in the RAAF in October 1941, and trained at Victor Harbor, Mallala and Parafield in the Empire Air Scheme. His RAAF log book – which begins on February 9, 1942 – shows him accumulating flying hours as he progressed through his training on aircraft such as the ubiquitous Tiger Moth and Avro Anson.

A ground collision while taxiing at Parafield proved a minor setback as he became gradually more proficient.  He qualified as a Sergeant Pilot before being sent to the UK and conversion training to get into Bomber Command.

From January 1943, he progressed through conversion training as he moved towards the objective of becoming a Heavy Bomber pilot.  The progression included training in aircraft such as the twin engined Airspeed Oxford and Vickers Wellington, then Heavy Conversion to the four-engined Handley Page Halifax and, finally to the Lancaster bomber that formed the majority of Bomber Command squadrons.

His log lists activities such as parachute drills and dinghy drills as well as flying sessions, hours logged, technical data checklists and circuit patterns.

Letters home were cheerful, giving details of daily life including picnics, dances, excursions and new mates when off-duty, but more often hoping all were well and that the market garden was thriving.

He was initially assigned to 103 Operational Squadron in Lincolnshire and, from August 9, 1943, everything changed as he began operational missions that progressed to bombing raids. Practice was over, this was life or death.

His log lists ‘five successful sorties’ in his time with the 103 Squadron, his targets including Nuremberg and Berlin ("The Big City" as it was known to aircrew).

He was the posted to 166 Squadron based at Kirmington, Lincolnshire – the squadron motto was "Tenacity".  Colin and his crew were assigned to Lancaster “V” for Victor, with a crew of six. He had by now been promoted to flight sergeant.

From September 20, 1943, his log methodically records various flights including bombing missions over Berlin, Munich, Hanover, Frankfurt, Dusseldorf, Ludwigshafen, Mannheim, Bochum, Milan, Turin, Hagen and Leipzig.

In a small column reserved for “Remarks” about each flight in his log he writes things such as “engine feathering, stalling’’ – but nothing of his emotions about flying into the thick of a deadly air war.

Letters home give a different insight. On August 16, he wrote to his parents describing two missions that week, one in which they “gave Nuremberg a hammering’’ but were caught in a spotlight.

“Well, I’m still here after more or less successfully completing two operations this week,” he writes. “We had just a bit of luck when a burst of flak came very close but it was just far enough away not to do any serious damage and we got away with one lump of shrapnel through the tail and a small hole in the wing.”

He goes on to describe the second bombing raid, on Milan by moonlight. “It was a lovely trip, the sight of the Alps was wonderful … Turin was also attacked that night and it was pretty well alight, just like a big bushfire in the Hills.”

Later letters talk about a “terrible lot of flak’’ during missions as other crews failed to return home.

On October 23, he writes: “I’ve done two trips this week, both more exciting than usual. On the first one a twin-engine fighter came near our tail but sheared off without opening fire after a long burst from our mid-gunner. The other one brought trouble in the form of heavy flak and very bad weather.

“We ran right through a concentrated barrage and were lucky to get away as lightly as we did, only two small pieces hit us but didn’t do any serious damage. One broke the airline to the brake on the starboard wheel and I couldn’t taxi after I landed, I had to leave the kite out on the drome all night.”

In just eight days in January 1944, his flying log records the pilot and his air crew went on four bombing raids, three of them to Berlin.

The final entry in his log dated January 28 is under different handwriting, that of his commanding officer.

It reads: “Ops No. 25 – Berlin. Failed to Return.”

His family received the telegram on February 7, advising he was missing.

But unlike so many other members of Bomber Command, Colin’s luck had not run out.

Flying at more than 300kmh, his Lancaster was hit by another aircraft in the dark. He was hurled clear when the plane exploded around him and managed to parachute to safety just outside Berlin. He was the only survivor.

More than two months later, on April 28, 1944, his relieved parents were notified that Colin was a prisoner of war in Stalag Luft 3 prison camp, at Sagan, 160km south of Berlin.

While behind the wire, he dutifully wrote his parents dozens of letters and postcards, giving an extraordinary insight into life in a PoW camp subject to the Geneva Convention and Red Cross inspections, as distinct from a concentration camp for civilians.

His first postcard is cheerful and optimistic, setting the tone for future letters which appear keen to ease his parents’ worries. Most have his trademark sign-off “Cheerio from Colin”.

Despite the horror of tugging a parachute cord as a flaming plane disintegrated in mid-air around him over enemy territory, amid flak and the loss of crew, Colin’s first letter home is calm and poised. There are no complaints – just an apology.

The postcard – dated February 14, 1944 – says: “Dear Mum and Dad, I have been taken prisoner and am being well looked after by the Red Cross. I am unhurt and in good spirit. My permanent address is not yet allocated and I will forward it later on. I am sorry to cause you so much worry. Love from Colin.”

Later letters are equally upbeat and regularly talk of being home soon. Once transferred to Stalag Luft 3, Colin notes: “There is no shortage of food or cigarettes from Red Cross parcels.”

He says there are eight prisoners to a room with a fire to ward off the cold from snow, but that “I’m getting more or less settled in the prison camp now and life is pretty easy.”

He tells his parents the prisoners are counted twice daily but lock up is not until 10pm and they are allowed to wander at will.

While he records there was plenty of food, it was largely tinned food from the Red Cross so as the weather warmed the men started growing vegetables.

Colin told his worried parents that monotony was the biggest problem – “we don’t do much else except sit around all day’ – but there appeared to be plenty of alternatives.

Among diversions he lists in various letters are the opportunity to study, read plenty of books, play regular games such as chess, rugby, softball, soccer, attend evening performances including plays and even a “dance orchestra’’ although he notes they were largely restricted to violins.

“There is quite a good nine-hole golf course here, inside the compound of course,” he reveals, “although the balls are made of scrap leather”.

As summer arrived, he wrote: “There is a small pool and a lot of chaps have a plunge in it. I might one of these days, there is no hurry to do anything else. Some have toy yachts, very good ones too, there is even a toy submarine driven by a rubber band.”

In another letter, he asks for a parcel of supplies including a blanket, razor and “a gramophone needle as there are lots of records about”.

Diversions aside, a prison is a prison. Reading between the cheerful lines asking about the garden at home and talking about sport, Colin notes he is receiving no letters and the toll of enforced confinement is heavy.

Referring to his fellow “kriegies”, as they called themselves (from the German “Kriegsgefangener” meaning prisoner of war), he says six of those in his room have been at then camp for more than three years “and are not all they should be”.

There were about 60 Australians in the section of camp he was held in but just four South Australians, his letters say.

The letters were subject to censors and make no mention of the two ingenious escapes from the prison, one in October 1943 and the more famous so-called Great Escape of March 1944.

As summer turned towards another long cold winter, he was delighted to receive a parcel from home with clothes.

Christmas in a snow-clad German POW camp was about as far from a sunny Sturt market garden as a young man could get, but Colin remained positive in a December 29, 1944 postcard.

“We have had a very good Christmas here despite being behind the wire,” he writes. “The big ice rink is in full swing and we have music from an amplifier. Today there was skating while it was snowing. There was a small funfair using cigarettes as currency — I won 700 on a horse race.”

His final letter as a POW of March 23, 1945, after more than a year in the camp, said they had moved camps, and in between asking about the grape harvest at home he remarked “We see a lot of Allied aircraft here, they cause great excitement.”

Marching and sleeping in barns as the Allies closed in, Colin finally was liberated by the British in May 1945 and repatriated to Britain.

Writing to his parents from London, he said he was envious of airmen still flying as he had hoped to make it to 30 missions. He goes to explain what occurred:

“I came down on my 25th (mission) over Berlin, my 8th trip to the Big City. I would not have been quite so disappointed if I had been shot down by the Germans but I came down in a collision with another machine. I know it is not the first time I have run into something but my conscience is quite clear this time, no-one kept a better lookout for other aircraft than I did but it is almost impossible to see other machines in the great blackness. I did see the other machine before we collided but I could not do much, it was only 100 to 200 yards away when I first saw it and we were both travelling at over 200mph.”

After telling his parents about his liberation, he goes on to write: “There are not many chaps I know still alive over here, only four or five … it was hard to keep alive and one thing is certain, Bomber Command aircrew have suffered the greatest casualties.”

A report in the Adelaide News of July 30, 1945 – headlined “Blown Out of Doomed Plane” – records Flying Officer Phelps being among several former POWs who returned to Adelaide that day.

On discharge in October, Colin visited all the relatives of his six dead crew, including those in the US. His sister, Nancy, corresponded with all the relatives on a regular basis until her death in 1959 when Christine, Colin’s niece, took over these duties.

Colin later found fame as a motorcycle rider, being so successful in 24-hour events that he featured in various advertisements.

Moving to Willunga to grow almonds, he died at home on April 19, 1992, aged 78 and was laid to rest in St Jude’s Cemetery, Brighton.

He is recorded on an Honour Board at Brighton (see link).