John Thomas Atherton – Surviving the Tragedy of War

My grandfather was a quiet, thoughtful man. A man of very few words, a man seemingly haunted, preoccupied to a degree by something in his past. The tragic death of his very young brother Roger would have been a major contributor to that. There would also be a heartbreaking death of another one of his siblings, a brother so much younger than himself, that would hit him hard during his service in WW2.

I recall as a child a photo of a man in uniform, enclosed in a plastic art deco frame on the sideboard at my grandparents’ house. It never occurred to me that it was my grandfather, despite seeing it on every visit. Later I assumed it was his brother Alan who we will meet shortly. It was only decades later, after my father died, that I found this photo in my father’s possessions. Studying it with more interest than the young child I was back then, I would discover from the uniform the role my grandfather played in WW2. Let us see.

His young 18-year-old brother Alan initially enlists for service in the RAF, but his stay there is a short one. He transferred to the Royal Navy which would lead to his death on the beaches of Salerno, Italy during the allied landings of September 1943. My grandfather John Thomas Atherton also joined the RAF; he would have been around 34 years old at the time. His RAF service is shrouded in mystery, but I was led to believe he was based in the North of Scotland on ground support rather than training as a pilot. More research was needed to eventually uncover some of the facts. I discovered that my grandfather was actually based on Walney Island, just off the coast from Barrow in Furness, Cumbria. He was indeed employed as ground crew, keeping the aircraft flying and the pilots happy. However, I now know that the events on Walney Island were another major contributor to his air of sadness and lack of zest for life.

Walney Island was used for an RAF aircraft training base. Throughout my research into our family history, I gained precious little knowledge from family members that were alive during some of the times I was researching. The events of WW2 were interesting to me, but not it would appear to my family members who could have provided some background. Eventually, not long before my father died, he opened up a little on his uncle Alan and also passed on a snippet of information regarded his father. I learned from my father that my grandfather came back traumatised by having to attend to bodies of airmen on Walney Island, placing them in body bags for burial. This would have been a harrowing job considering the state of the remains of these pilots and crew. However, I found this seemed unlikely due to Walney Island being a training facility rather than a base that would have received dead or injured air crew.

One particular incident came to light that would seem to confirm what my father knew about his father’s service would have been correct. This was a disastrous end to a training flight over the island. The crew of an Avro Anson LT778 (10 Air Gunnery School at RAF Walney Island, near Barrow-in-Furness) had completed a target practice firing on a drogue target towed by Martinet HP303. This would have been a dangerous exercise in itself but that was completed successfully. They were preparing to land when the pilot of a Martinet overtook the Anson without sufficient clearance to starboard. The Martinet struck the Anson damaging both aircraft. The Belgian pilot of the Martinet, Pilot Officer J.E.J. Wegria, managed to land safely and later commented that he believed the Anson had already commenced its landing when the accident happened. Tragically, Anson LT778 crashed on the beach just short of the runway killing all on board. It appears the pilot, Sergeant Anderton, was trying to land the damaged Anson. Blame was subsequently distributed between the actions of the pilots of the two aircraft. This incident would I assume be what my grandfather was referring to when he told my father about his experiences on Walney Island. It explains a lot about my grandfather and his reluctance to talk about his war experience. Further research shows that other aircraft assigned to Walney Island also met with disaster. It appears that some of these crew members would have been brought back to Walney Island. It is possible my grandfather had also to be in attendance on these occasions.

There was an air of sadness as I mentioned about my grandfather John Thomas. Suffering the death of his young brother, a boy he had been so protective of as a much older brother, hit him very hard. This 8-year-old brother died when running across the road on his excited journey home from school. He was hit by a truck and died instantly. His father was away in the army, still serving as a driver in 1919 attached to the Army Service Corps Mechanical Transport Depot at Grove Park in Lewisham.

My grandfather’s brother Alan was born in 1924, meaning John Thomas was just about old enough to be his father rather than his brother. Losing yet another brother in tragic circumstances must have been hard to bear. The body of Alan Atherton was never recovered so he is recognized and commemorated on Panel 101, Column 3 of the Plymouth Naval Memorial maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. It is very moving to visit the memorial despite Alan being only a reference on a plaque, not having an actual grave. When you walk around the memorial in Plymouth there are always people around it searching for a reference on the walls that is relating to an ancestor. A slightly surreal experience as often your thoughts are interrupted by someone who cannot work out the method of locating a plaque and you break away to help before returning to contemplate your own ancestor’s life and death. Alan is someone I never knew but he is an Atherton, a good man, loved by all according to his obituary, someone who went through horrors that fortunately have been spared to any of his family since that time.

For my grandfather life became a serious matter. He would never openly be seen to be ‘having a good time,’ all the joy had gone, he raised his family without any sense of happiness. But he raised them well, taking them a little farther out of the poverty that dogged the family from Victorian times. This air of melancholy would remain with him, but this was in stark contrast to my grandmother Florrie, who along with her sister Ethel in tow, was the life and soul of any room or street they occupied. Their crazy laughter seemingly never to be stifled for very long. How I always thought this must have grated on my grandfather who had lost so much and retreated into himself. I for one could never quite understand where or how they met – two peas in a pod – I don’t think so.

Grandfather just before the war – Florrie his wife and my father Ramon

My family has had its share of wartime tragedy. The personality of my grandfather is a little clearer to understand now. Although he never had to display the bravery of the pilots he worked alongside, he played an important role. One that would have had the responsibility of doing his job conscientiously, lives depending on the quality of work men like my grandfather had to perform.

These photos of the reminders to the ground crew about the importance of being diligent are sobering:

Although this story enlightens me about my grandfather and adds to my memories of him, I find that ultimately his story leaves me thinking about those brave men that my grandfather helped to their last resting place. My grandfather went on to live a relatively untroubled life until his death in the 1980s in his hometown of Darwen, Lancashire.

The men who flew and died from Walney Island never had that opportunity.

Grandfather with the next three generations shortly before he died

I am indebted for the detail regarding the Avro Lancaster at Walney Island to Ian D B who runs the aircrashsites.co.uk website.

Also, to Mark Haywood for kind permission to use his Walney Island photographs. Mark’s grandfather died in the crash I have referred to.

For Alan’s story please click on the photo:

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