Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

The unique ‘Channel Dash’ C.G.M. group of six awarded to Chief Petty Officer (Air) D. A. ‘Don’ Bunce, a Telegraphist Air Gunner in 825 Naval Air Squadron, Fleet Air Arm

Already a veteran of a celebrated Swordfish attack against the Bismarck in May 1941, when his pilot dropped to 100 feet in the face of a ‘very vigorous and accurate barrage of heavy and light A.A. fire’ – and indeed of the loss of the Ark Royal – Bunce added to his laurels in a supreme act of defiance in 825’s suicidal strike against enemy capital ships in the English Channel in February 1942

Amidst curtains of flak, and in the face of relentless cannon shell fire from Fw 190s, his armament amounted to a ‘feeble’ .303 Vickers machine-gun and ‘every Naval swear word I could muster’

Of the six Swordfish that went in, none returned, just five airmen out of 18 living to tell the tale. The force’s leader, Lieutenant-Commander Eugene Esmonde, D.S.O., R.N., was awarded a posthumous V.C., a distinction which recognised the valour of all of 825’s participating aircrew:

‘Their aircraft shattered, undeterred by an inferno of fire, they carried out their orders, which were to attack the target. Not one came back. Theirs was the courage which is beyond praise’

Conspicuous Gallantry Medal, G.VI.R. (FAA/SFX. 631 D. A. Bunce, Naval Aimn. 1.); 1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star, 1 clasp, France and Germany; Africa Star; Defence and War Medals 1939-45, mounted as worn, minor edge bruise to first, nearly extremely fine (6)
(6) £80,000-£100,000

C.G.M. London Gazette 3 March 1942:
‘Naval Airman First Class Donald Arthur Bunce, FAA/SFX. 631, who was Air Gunner in the Swordfish aircraft piloted by Sub-Lieutenant Kingsmill. With his machine on fire, and the engine failing, he stayed steadfast at his gun, engaging the enemy fighters which beset his aircraft. He is believed to have shot one of them down. Throughout the action his coolness was unshaken.’

Donald Arthur Bunce was born in Oxford on 27 May 1921 and joined the Fleet Air Arm as a Naval Airman Second Class in January 1940, when he commenced training as a Telegraphist Air Gunner (T.A.G.).

Bismarck action – Loss of Ark Royal
Posted to 825 Naval Air Squadron (N.A.S.) at Campbeltown in mid-April 1941, he and the squadron were embarked in the aircraft carrier H.M.S. Victorious a month later, shortly before the famous pursuit of the Bismarck.
Bunce subsequently took part in all the sorties flown by 825 N.A.S. during the pursuit, achieving over 14 hours airborne in less than one and a half days. The first of these sorties was flown on 24 May 1941, when nine Swordfish aircraft set-off to attack the Bismarck under Lieutenant-Commander E. K. Esmonde, R.N.

Bunce’s aircraft, part of the first wave, was piloted by Lieutenant N. G. MacLean, R.N.V.R., and went into the attack at midnight, in the face of a ‘very vigorous and accurate barrage of heavy and light A.A. fire’, and dropped a torpedo off Bismarck’s port beam from 100 feet. It - in common with all but one of the ‘fish’ dropped by the squadron - was artfully dodged by Bismarck’s helmsman, but vital damage was inflicted by a hit obtained amidships by another Swordfish.

The flight back to the Victorious was by no means a foregone conclusion, the homing beacon aboard the carrier being unserviceable. Moreover, the searchlights deployed by Victorious’s captain to guide in Esmonde’s flight were swiftly shut down by command of Rear-Admiral Curteis. Nonetheless, all the Swordfish made it back safely, landing between 0200 and 0230 hours.

The squadron’s strike role now concluded, 825 N.A.S. was nonetheless called upon to carry our ongoing search patrols - two on the 25th and one on the 26th, and Bunce participated in all three, flying as T.A.G. to Esmonde in the last of them. However, he was not among those decorated or mentioned in despatches in the subsequent list of awards granted to the squadron in September 1941, a list which included a D.S.O. for Esmonde, and four D.S.C.s and three D.S.M.s. No matter; Bunce would shortly be the recipient of a much rarer distinction.

Meanwhile, in the first week of June 1941, he and 825 N.A.S. were embarked on the Ark Royal. Fresh, too, from the Bismarck action, the Ark was deployed to the Malta run, and lent valuable support in Operations ‘Substance’ and ‘Halberd’. On 13 November 1941, however, disaster struck in the form a fatal torpedo strike, her demise famously captured on film. Mercifully, all but one of her crew survived.

The Channel Dash
In early 1942, and having re-mustered at Lee-on-Solent, 828 N.A.S. was ordered to R.A.F. Manston, as part of Operation ‘Fuller’, the much-flawed plan to counter the anticipated breakout of enemy capital ships from Brest, namely the battle cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, and the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen.

When indeed the German ships made their bid for freedom - in what became known as the Channel Dash - the response mounted by air and sea proved entirely inadequate. Apart from anything else, the breakout was daringly enacted in daylight, whereas ‘Fuller’ had been planned around a nocturnal breakout. Moreover, the Germans had assembled a formidable defensive screen, the three capital ships being covered by six destroyers and 34 E-boats, in addition to a mass of Me 109s and Fw 190s.

Nonetheless, gallant attempts were made to counter the enemy fleet’s progress, including those mounted by elements of our Coastal Forces - but of all such endeavours one stood out above the rest: the strike mounted by six aircraft of 828 N.A.S. under by Lieutenant-Commander Eugene Esmonde, D.S.O., R.N. ‘In my opinion,’ wrote Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay, Flag Officer Dover, ‘the gallant sortie of these six Swordfish constitutes one of the finest exhibitions of self-sacrifice and devotion to duty that the war had yet witnessed.’ Admiral Otto Ciliax of the Kriegsmarine was equally impressed, writing in his diary: ‘The mothball attack of a handful of ancient planes was piloted by men whose bravery surpasses any other action by either side that day.’

It was indeed a striking act of self-sacrifice, and very much in the spirit of the squadron’s motto: nihil obstat - nothing stops us. From the word ‘go’, it was apparent to all concerned that Esmonde and his fellow aircrew stood little chance of survival in their 90-knot ‘stringbags’; to begin with the slow speed of their aircraft baffled the German fighter pilots, who overshot frequently.

At R.A.F. Manston, when the call to arms arrived in the late morning of 12 February 1942, Esmonde didn’t mince his words. He told his aircrew, “Fly at fifty feet, loose line astern, individual attacks, and find your way home.” But Manston’s station commander, Tom Gleave, was so convinced of Esmonde’s pending fate that he stood at the end of the snowy runway to salute each of the Swordfish crew as they took off soon after midday. He later wrote of his meeting with Esmonde that morning:
‘He knew what he was going into. But it was his duty. His face was tense and white. It was the face of a man already dead. It shocked me as nothing has ever done since.’

Having rendezvoused with just 10 Spitfires of 72 Squadron over Ramsgate – not the intended escort of five whole squadrons – Esmonde dived to 40 feet over the Channel and set off in pursuit of his quarry. Less than 20 minutes later, he and his entire flight had been shot down, just five of the 18 aircrew surviving the ordeal. They were all decorated, the officers with the D.S.O. and Bunce with the C.G.M. And in addition to Esmonde’s award of the V.C., all the deceased aircrew were posthumously mentioned in despatches.

Fortuitously for posterity’s sake, Don Bunce was later interviewed by the Department of Sound at the Imperial War Musuem, in addition to contributing to other published sources. Here, then, a brief glimpse of his experiences that fateful day:
‘Apart from using every Naval swear word I could muster, my instinct appeared to be to place as much of the feeble .303 tracer in front of the Fw 190s as I could, stoppages permitting. All drill in this respect went overboard, as indeed went any malfunctioning magazine. There simply isn’t time to do other than that.

The whole affair, from my backward viewpoint, was developing into a practice shoot for Fw 190s, and we were the drogue target! The enemy aircraft were coming so close that as they peeled off to port I had a sideways clear view of the pilots. I had a quick visual image too of the shells hitting the water, giving them perfect alignment to hit the old Swordfish. Strange to say, throughout the entire action, I had no impending sense of danger or injury to myself despite all the hardware being thrown at us. I just considered myself ‘fireproof’. Alas, my Pilot and Observer were less fortunate, both being hit.

Just as suddenly as it started, the enemy fighters left. Presumably our torpedo had been launched. One is usually aware of the drop, but not on this occasion. Now I could look around. I turned to sit down, and found a gaping hole to the port side of the seat. Gingerly, I tried sitting so I could send some kind of distress signal, but the wireless set was dead. However, the IFF worked, and I immediately switched to the distress position, but as this relied on radar contact this must have been a useless exercise with our aircraft flying at sea level.’

Further damage was then inflicted by gunfire from some E-boats but Kingsmill, his pilot, managed, at length, to ditch their Swordfish near friendlier forces, namely one of our Motor Torpedo Boats. All three men were plucked from the icy water 10 minutes later. Their rapid rescue was as well, for their dinghy had been shredded by gunfire.

Bunce spent the remainder of the war on instructional duties in various squadrons and establishments, latterly in the rank of Chief Petty Officer (Air). He was finally released from naval service in January 1946. A modest man, who was much in demand for his reminiscences as anniversaries came and went, Don Bunce died in September 2008.

Sold with the following related archive:
i) The recipient’s original R.A.F. Observer’s and Air Gunner’s Flying Log Book (Form 1767), with opening endorsement, ‘Previous log book lost on H.M.S. Ark Royal, November 13th 1941. Total flying time 230 (hours, Day) 12 (hours, Night); No of deck landings 52’; followed by two entries with Sub. Lieutenant Kingsmill as his pilot in Swordfish W5907, the first a W./T. test flight on 8 February 1942, and the second the Channel Dash action; four further flights in No. 825 N.A.S. in March 1942, and then brief entries for appointments at R.N.A.S. Arbroath and St. Merryn and final entry dated 25 June 1943.

ii) Department of Sound, Imperial War Museum, cassette recordings (2), containing a lengthy interview with Bunce about his wartime career and the Channel Dash action; together with a 60th Anniversary booklet and cassette recording, Channel Dash Heroes, being a dramatised documentary written and narrated by Howard Leader, and ‘featuring all surviving heroes and music specially written by Sir George Martin and Nick Becat’.

iii) A quantity of 25th and 50th Anniversary Channel Dash documentation, including correspondence, invitations and related articles, and notes from the survivors; and likewise documentation associated with the 50th Anniversary of the Bismarck action in May 1941, some of it signed by Bunce and his fellow Channel Dash survivors Pat Kingsmill, ‘Mac’ Samples and Edgar Lee.