Flight Lieutenant Richard William (Dick) Winn..........Service: Royal Australian Air Force..........Service Number: 403776
403776 Flight Lieutenant Richard William (Dick) Winn
Born: 22 Jan 1921— England
Enlisted: 1941—Sydney NSW
Captured: Jan 1943—East of Ben Gardane
Released: May 1945—Wulmenau
Discharged: 1945—2 Personnel Depot
Deceased: 12 Aug 2007— Sydney NSW
__________________________________________________________________________________
F/Lt. Richard William Winn RAAF experienced a very different life to most other members of the 450 SQN during his tour of duty; one which required extraordinary courage and bravery beyond his natural abilities as a young Pilot Officer; one which would have him draw an amazing strength from within, to sustain him throughout his years of internment as a POW.
Dick wrote and published a volume of his memoirs. The first sentence reads:
“Being in my 75th year with only three quarters of my heart working, I have decided on this venture—for if I don’t do it now, it will never be done. I am doing it for my grandchildren who may want to know something about their “Granda” even if it is only for the census or their passport”
To me this self-effacing and understated introduction says a great deal about Dick, who, behind his conventional public facade, was a complex and highly individual man who led a fascinating life.
In 1940, Dick started engineering at Sydney University, in residence at St Paul’s College. When the phoney war turned into WWII in June, he applied to join the RAAF. When told he was not eligible because engineering was a reserved occupation, he replied that if that was the case, he would quit his course, and so he was accepted, and duly called up for initial training in March 1941.
He was commissioned as a pilot officer in November and was training in England by January 1942. His diary at this time is a fascinating glimpse of a 20 year old’s impression of a country at war, mixing the exhilaration of his first dive in his Spitfire at 500 mph, with accounts of parties and trips to the London ballet to see Margot Fonteyn in Swan Lake.
In August 1942 he joined 450 Squadron in North Africa, two days before Montgomery took command, and began to turn the desert war around. Dick flew his Kittyhawk fighter bomber on 92 operations in the four months between August 21 and January 24,1943, when he was shot down by ground fire while on a strafing run. Too low to bail out, he crash-landed in the desert and shortly afterwards was captured by Italian soldiers.
Two weeks later he was in an interrogation centre near Frankfurt where he spent 28 days in solitary confinement, before being moved through several camps to his ultimate destination for the next 2 years in Poland in Stalag Luft 3. There amongst many other things he vaulted over the famous Wooden Horse, and did that shaking the sand out of his trousers thing in the exercise yard. He also read voraciously, and while most of his fellow prisoners’ tastes ran to thrillers and westerns, Dick focussed on more weighty volumes, including Darwin’s The Origin of Species, Bertrand Russell, the Koran and the entire Bible (except for the begats).
In January 1945 with the Russian army approaching, the camp was evacuated and its 10,000 prisoners force-marched for 5 days, covering 100 kms in minus 20 degree cold. In typical Dick fashion, he had anticipated something like this, and, in the face of much scorn and ribbing, had built a small sled, which enabled him and his two close mates Tommo, and Ambrose Haley to pool their food and blankets, and survive the march, which many didn’t.
Eulogy by Andrew Dix (Son-in-Law)
__________________________________________________________________________________
Extract from Dick's book - "A Fighter Pilot's Diary of World War 2"
22 February 1943
I had my 22nd birthday on this 22 February 1943 in Cell 22.
The interrogation took a new tactic. I had a wall electric heater (each cell had one)–middle of winter, very cold without heater. Interrogation–harassment–they would turn heater on full until it got unbearably hot–I lay on the floor–then they would shut it off–this so annoyed me I decided to interfere–there were no electric controls in the rooms but at one end of the heater was a covering plate held in position by four screws. As I had my now returned belongings, my stainless steel I.D. plate (dog tag)–this acted like a screwdriver. I removed the plate and disconnected one of the active electric wires and slid the barrel of my returned fountain pen over the metal screw terminal so now I could turn the heater on and off–so when the room was too hot I could cool it–but I could not heat it up.
Born: 22 Jan 1921— England
Enlisted: 1941—Sydney NSW
Captured: Jan 1943—East of Ben Gardane
Released: May 1945—Wulmenau
Discharged: 1945—2 Personnel Depot
Deceased: 12 Aug 2007— Sydney NSW
__________________________________________________________________________________
F/Lt. Richard William Winn RAAF experienced a very different life to most other members of the 450 SQN during his tour of duty; one which required extraordinary courage and bravery beyond his natural abilities as a young Pilot Officer; one which would have him draw an amazing strength from within, to sustain him throughout his years of internment as a POW.
Dick wrote and published a volume of his memoirs. The first sentence reads:
“Being in my 75th year with only three quarters of my heart working, I have decided on this venture—for if I don’t do it now, it will never be done. I am doing it for my grandchildren who may want to know something about their “Granda” even if it is only for the census or their passport”
To me this self-effacing and understated introduction says a great deal about Dick, who, behind his conventional public facade, was a complex and highly individual man who led a fascinating life.
In 1940, Dick started engineering at Sydney University, in residence at St Paul’s College. When the phoney war turned into WWII in June, he applied to join the RAAF. When told he was not eligible because engineering was a reserved occupation, he replied that if that was the case, he would quit his course, and so he was accepted, and duly called up for initial training in March 1941.
He was commissioned as a pilot officer in November and was training in England by January 1942. His diary at this time is a fascinating glimpse of a 20 year old’s impression of a country at war, mixing the exhilaration of his first dive in his Spitfire at 500 mph, with accounts of parties and trips to the London ballet to see Margot Fonteyn in Swan Lake.
In August 1942 he joined 450 Squadron in North Africa, two days before Montgomery took command, and began to turn the desert war around. Dick flew his Kittyhawk fighter bomber on 92 operations in the four months between August 21 and January 24,1943, when he was shot down by ground fire while on a strafing run. Too low to bail out, he crash-landed in the desert and shortly afterwards was captured by Italian soldiers.
Two weeks later he was in an interrogation centre near Frankfurt where he spent 28 days in solitary confinement, before being moved through several camps to his ultimate destination for the next 2 years in Poland in Stalag Luft 3. There amongst many other things he vaulted over the famous Wooden Horse, and did that shaking the sand out of his trousers thing in the exercise yard. He also read voraciously, and while most of his fellow prisoners’ tastes ran to thrillers and westerns, Dick focussed on more weighty volumes, including Darwin’s The Origin of Species, Bertrand Russell, the Koran and the entire Bible (except for the begats).
In January 1945 with the Russian army approaching, the camp was evacuated and its 10,000 prisoners force-marched for 5 days, covering 100 kms in minus 20 degree cold. In typical Dick fashion, he had anticipated something like this, and, in the face of much scorn and ribbing, had built a small sled, which enabled him and his two close mates Tommo, and Ambrose Haley to pool their food and blankets, and survive the march, which many didn’t.
Eulogy by Andrew Dix (Son-in-Law)
__________________________________________________________________________________
Extract from Dick's book - "A Fighter Pilot's Diary of World War 2"
22 February 1943
I had my 22nd birthday on this 22 February 1943 in Cell 22.
The interrogation took a new tactic. I had a wall electric heater (each cell had one)–middle of winter, very cold without heater. Interrogation–harassment–they would turn heater on full until it got unbearably hot–I lay on the floor–then they would shut it off–this so annoyed me I decided to interfere–there were no electric controls in the rooms but at one end of the heater was a covering plate held in position by four screws. As I had my now returned belongings, my stainless steel I.D. plate (dog tag)–this acted like a screwdriver. I removed the plate and disconnected one of the active electric wires and slid the barrel of my returned fountain pen over the metal screw terminal so now I could turn the heater on and off–so when the room was too hot I could cool it–but I could not heat it up.
Edit caption:
403776 Flight Lieutenant Richard William (Dick) Winn
Born: 22 Jan 1921— England
Enlisted: 1941—Sydney NSW
Captured: Jan 1943—East of Ben Gardane
Released: May 1945—Wulmenau
Discharged: 1945—2 Personnel Depot
Deceased: 12 Aug 2007— Sydney NSW
__________________________________________________________________________________
F/Lt. Richard William Winn RAAF experienced a very different life to most other members of the 450 SQN during his tour of duty; one which required extraordinary courage and bravery beyond his natural abilities as a young Pilot Officer; one which would have him draw an amazing strength from within, to sustain him throughout his years of internment as a POW.
Dick wrote and published a volume of his memoirs. The first sentence reads:
“Being in my 75th year with only three quarters of my heart working, I have decided on this venture—for if I don’t do it now, it will never be done. I am doing it for my grandchildren who may want to know something about their “Granda” even if it is only for the census or their passport”
To me this self-effacing and understated introduction says a great deal about Dick, who, behind his conventional public facade, was a complex and highly individual man who led a fascinating life.
In 1940, Dick started engineering at Sydney University, in residence at St Paul’s College. When the phoney war turned into WWII in June, he applied to join the RAAF. When told he was not eligible because engineering was a reserved occupation, he replied that if that was the case, he would quit his course, and so he was accepted, and duly called up for initial training in March 1941.
He was commissioned as a pilot officer in November and was training in England by January 1942. His diary at this time is a fascinating glimpse of a 20 year old’s impression of a country at war, mixing the exhilaration of his first dive in his Spitfire at 500 mph, with accounts of parties and trips to the London ballet to see Margot Fonteyn in Swan Lake.
In August 1942 he joined 450 Squadron in North Africa, two days before Montgomery took command, and began to turn the desert war around. Dick flew his Kittyhawk fighter bomber on 92 operations in the four months between August 21 and January 24,1943, when he was shot down by ground fire while on a strafing run. Too low to bail out, he crash-landed in the desert and shortly afterwards was captured by Italian soldiers.
Two weeks later he was in an interrogation centre near Frankfurt where he spent 28 days in solitary confinement, before being moved through several camps to his ultimate destination for the next 2 years in Poland in Stalag Luft 3. There amongst many other things he vaulted over the famous Wooden Horse, and did that shaking the sand out of his trousers thing in the exercise yard. He also read voraciously, and while most of his fellow prisoners’ tastes ran to thrillers and westerns, Dick focussed on more weighty volumes, including Darwin’s The Origin of Species, Bertrand Russell, the Koran and the entire Bible (except for the begats).
In January 1945 with the Russian army approaching, the camp was evacuated and its 10,000 prisoners force-marched for 5 days, covering 100 kms in minus 20 degree cold. In typical Dick fashion, he had anticipated something like this, and, in the face of much scorn and ribbing, had built a small sled, which enabled him and his two close mates Tommo, and Ambrose Haley to pool their food and blankets, and survive the march, which many didn’t.
Eulogy by Andrew Dix (Son-in-Law)
__________________________________________________________________________________
Extract from Dick's book - "A Fighter Pilot's Diary of World War 2"
22 February 1943
I had my 22nd birthday on this 22 February 1943 in Cell 22.
The interrogation took a new tactic. I had a wall electric heater (each cell had one)–middle of winter, very cold without heater. Interrogation–harassment–they would turn heater on full until it got unbearably hot–I lay on the floor–then they would shut it off–this so annoyed me I decided to interfere–there were no electric controls in the rooms but at one end of the heater was a covering plate held in position by four screws. As I had my now returned belongings, my stainless steel I.D. plate (dog tag)–this acted like a screwdriver. I removed the plate and disconnected one of the active electric wires and slid the barrel of my returned fountain pen over the metal screw terminal so now I could turn the heater on and off–so when the room was too hot I could cool it–but I could not heat it up.
Born: 22 Jan 1921— England
Enlisted: 1941—Sydney NSW
Captured: Jan 1943—East of Ben Gardane
Released: May 1945—Wulmenau
Discharged: 1945—2 Personnel Depot
Deceased: 12 Aug 2007— Sydney NSW
__________________________________________________________________________________
F/Lt. Richard William Winn RAAF experienced a very different life to most other members of the 450 SQN during his tour of duty; one which required extraordinary courage and bravery beyond his natural abilities as a young Pilot Officer; one which would have him draw an amazing strength from within, to sustain him throughout his years of internment as a POW.
Dick wrote and published a volume of his memoirs. The first sentence reads:
“Being in my 75th year with only three quarters of my heart working, I have decided on this venture—for if I don’t do it now, it will never be done. I am doing it for my grandchildren who may want to know something about their “Granda” even if it is only for the census or their passport”
To me this self-effacing and understated introduction says a great deal about Dick, who, behind his conventional public facade, was a complex and highly individual man who led a fascinating life.
In 1940, Dick started engineering at Sydney University, in residence at St Paul’s College. When the phoney war turned into WWII in June, he applied to join the RAAF. When told he was not eligible because engineering was a reserved occupation, he replied that if that was the case, he would quit his course, and so he was accepted, and duly called up for initial training in March 1941.
He was commissioned as a pilot officer in November and was training in England by January 1942. His diary at this time is a fascinating glimpse of a 20 year old’s impression of a country at war, mixing the exhilaration of his first dive in his Spitfire at 500 mph, with accounts of parties and trips to the London ballet to see Margot Fonteyn in Swan Lake.
In August 1942 he joined 450 Squadron in North Africa, two days before Montgomery took command, and began to turn the desert war around. Dick flew his Kittyhawk fighter bomber on 92 operations in the four months between August 21 and January 24,1943, when he was shot down by ground fire while on a strafing run. Too low to bail out, he crash-landed in the desert and shortly afterwards was captured by Italian soldiers.
Two weeks later he was in an interrogation centre near Frankfurt where he spent 28 days in solitary confinement, before being moved through several camps to his ultimate destination for the next 2 years in Poland in Stalag Luft 3. There amongst many other things he vaulted over the famous Wooden Horse, and did that shaking the sand out of his trousers thing in the exercise yard. He also read voraciously, and while most of his fellow prisoners’ tastes ran to thrillers and westerns, Dick focussed on more weighty volumes, including Darwin’s The Origin of Species, Bertrand Russell, the Koran and the entire Bible (except for the begats).
In January 1945 with the Russian army approaching, the camp was evacuated and its 10,000 prisoners force-marched for 5 days, covering 100 kms in minus 20 degree cold. In typical Dick fashion, he had anticipated something like this, and, in the face of much scorn and ribbing, had built a small sled, which enabled him and his two close mates Tommo, and Ambrose Haley to pool their food and blankets, and survive the march, which many didn’t.
Eulogy by Andrew Dix (Son-in-Law)
__________________________________________________________________________________
Extract from Dick's book - "A Fighter Pilot's Diary of World War 2"
22 February 1943
I had my 22nd birthday on this 22 February 1943 in Cell 22.
The interrogation took a new tactic. I had a wall electric heater (each cell had one)–middle of winter, very cold without heater. Interrogation–harassment–they would turn heater on full until it got unbearably hot–I lay on the floor–then they would shut it off–this so annoyed me I decided to interfere–there were no electric controls in the rooms but at one end of the heater was a covering plate held in position by four screws. As I had my now returned belongings, my stainless steel I.D. plate (dog tag)–this acted like a screwdriver. I removed the plate and disconnected one of the active electric wires and slid the barrel of my returned fountain pen over the metal screw terminal so now I could turn the heater on and off–so when the room was too hot I could cool it–but I could not heat it up.
Edit caption:
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