Aviation historian and co-author of RAF Liberators over Burma, Matt Poole, continues the story of his mother’s first husband, Sergeant George Plank, whose aircraft was lost over Burma in 1944.Part 1 outlined how I set about discovering what had happened to my mother’s first husband, wireless operator/air gunner George Plank, when his RAF Liberator was lost over Rangoon, Burma, on 29 February 1944. I had learned an abundance of details: confirmed that his aircraft, ‘Daring Diana’, and another, ‘Pegasus’, had been downed by fighters; unearthed eyewitness accounts; befriended Pegasus survivor Don Lomas; and traced Bunichi Yamaguchi, one of the two Japanese pilots responsible. My reward was a detailed letter from Mr Yamaguchi, which included a humble apology to my mother.

Though I uncovered more than I’d ever thought possible, more questions remained around the events – and aftermath – of that fateful night. I also wanted to visit places in Rangoon associated with the ordeals of the downed airmen. These are the next steps in my journey of discovery.

New information

Bunichi Yamaguchi died suddenly in June 1992, only five months after I’d received his letter. Later, I received an extraordinary gift: his original 1 March 1944 citation, celebrating the previous night’s aerial victories and presented to him by the Japanese general commanding all air operations in Burma.In a touching act of conciliation, Mr Yamaguchi’s son decided that I should be this valuable document’s custodian. Inspired by this gift, and with new leads to explore, I redoubled my efforts. Japan’s Kagawa Prefecture put me in touch with the nephew of Hiroshi Takiguchi, who, with Yamaguchi, had shot down the two bombers. The nephew sent me a wealth of documents about his uncle’s exploits, including a photograph of Takiguchi’s wedding. Similar to the wedding photo of George and my mother, it showed a bride, soon to be widowed and left without answers, proudly posing with her uniformed groom.

By now, my research was gaining some publicity in Japan. While leafing through his copy of Tsubasa, the officers’ magazine of the modern Japan Air Self-Defense Force, Bunichi Yamaguchi’s aircraft mechanic, Hanichi Ohba, came across coverage of my research. Having witnessed the air battle above him, he offered me his sequential sketches illustrating how the two fighter pilots picked off the bombers.

These two sketches corroborated the first-hand recollections of Bunichi Yamaguchi and Pegasus survivor Don Lomas. In this four-panel illustration, two Japanese aircraft trailed Daring Diana, illuminated by searchlights. Takiguchi then attacked from above and Yamaguchi from below. Daring Diana went noseup, stalled, fell from the sky and exploded.

However, the sketch and accompanying text were unclear on one key point: whether the aircraft had exploded in mid-air or only upon impact with the ground. The difference may seem insignificant, but to loved ones of those aboard, the uncertainty over whether the crew had died instantly in an aerial explosion or had suffered the terror of falling from the sky caused enduring anguish.To Burma

Although there were no Daring Diana graves to visit, in 1993 I joined a pilgrimage to Rangoon to pay my respects at the only graves of 29 February victims I could visit – the two Pegasus crewmen who had died as POWs. Through my research I felt I knew them like brothers. I also wanted to soak up the Rangoon atmosphere and let my imagination wander back to a time when the town was under Japanese occupation.

We landed at Rangoon’s airport, bombed by George only three nights before he died. We then visited the ruins of Rangoon jail, where Don Lomas and five of his Pegasus crewmates had been incarcerated, and where two died. Next, we visited Rangoon War Cemetery itself.

Walking among the rows of grave markers, I pondered over the many details my investigations had brought to light. I wondered also, while searching for the two graves of the Pegasus airmen, what fates had befallen the remains of the Daring Diana crew, commemorated on the Kranji memorial to the missing in Singapore, over 1,000 miles away.

Scanning the various inscriptions, I saw numerous grave markers which included the sad words: ‘An airman of the 1939-1945 war, Royal Air Force, Known Unto God.’ Lost in my thoughts, the voice of another group member soon broke my reverie:

“Didn’t you say the date was the 29th of February 1944?”

“Yes,’ I replied.

“Follow me!” he said excitedly.

He led me to a group of graves which, like many others, contained those melancholy words, ‘Known Unto God’. Here, however, the inscription had one additional detail: ‘29th February 1944’. Looking around, I could see that the graves on either side carried the same inscription. Altogether, seven graves lay side by side, all with the exact same wording.

That was the single most astonishing moment of my life. Had I found the Daring Diana crew? Did George rest only feet from where I stood? Were any of the three missing Pegasus crewmen here? My hunch was that the seven came from Daring Diana. Regardless, these burials were likely unknown to the loved ones of all twelve missing airmen.

I soon returned to America, but at Kew’s Public Records Office (now The National Archives) a friend scoured documents of every RAF squadron flying over Burma around 29 February 1944. When he finished, he’d verified my initial findings that Daring Diana and Pegasus were the only non-fighter aircraft the RAF lost in Burma and the bordering war zones in India between 25 February and 2 March 1944. More than ever, I had confidence that the seven men buried in Rangoon were 159 Squadron casualties – likely from Daring Diana Validation

After an unsuccessful attempt to get the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) to investigate, in 1998 I lobbied again. This time the truth was unearthed from within their archives.

A ‘Graves Concentration Report’ showed that the seven ‘unknown’ airmen were indeed Daring Diana crewmen interred in Rangoon War Cemetery in 1953. However, the CWGC would not disclose the report’s full contents. I therefore called upon Air Chief Marshal Sir Anthony Bagnall, who had previously written me a letter of commendation for my research.

With him on board the red tape disappeared, and by July 2001 I had the full document. It provided additional details, such as precisely where the bodies were found, where the final two Daring Diana men had allegedly been buried (but not rediscovered), and where the aircraft had crashed – roughly 13 miles north of Rangoon War Cemetery.

Clearly the graves were of Daring Diana crewmen, though their individual identities had not been – or were unable to be – established when recovered, and no exhumations would now be performed.

Denied this news for decades, far too few loved ones of the Daring Diana crew had survived long enough to be apprised of the comforting revelation. Despite there only being a seven in-nine chance of one of these graves being George’s, my mother decided that he was buried there; she said she just knew it was true – and she was most relieved.

In 2002, I commissioned a Burmese guide to visit the site mentioned in the Graves Concentration Report to explore where the seven recovered Daring Diana victims had originally been buried.

The videotape he managed to smuggle out – on second attempt due to the unstable political situation – not only showed the surrounding area, but it also contained an unexpected interview with ‘U Aung,‘ a softly-spoken 80-year-old eyewitness who in 1944 had watched events unfold overhead.

Taking refuge in a primitive earth and log air raid bunker on that February night, yet unable to contain his curiosity, he had peered upward to follow the fighter attacks. During the interview, U Aung remarked:

“After exploding, it [Daring Diana] was torn completely apart.

Pieces fell down, some here and some there, in different places around the area.’”

“So it exploded in the air?” asked the guide.

“Yes,’ said U Aung, ‘it did.”

Reading these words, a question which had tormented friends and families of the Daring Diana crew was answered: had they suffered?

In his memoir, George’s 159 Squadron comrade Bill Kirkness had dwelt on the same subject. Referring to the crews of both downed Liberators, he wrote: “[Did they die] in the air combat itself, in the plummeting of doomed bombers in flames, upon impact, [or] with mortal wounds on the ground?” Here, twelve years after my search began, I had my answer. Daring Diana had exploded in mid-air, very likely killing all aboard.The details I have related about George Plank and Daring Diana offer only a glimpse into a much larger story tied to 29 February 1944. I spoke with widows, siblings, cousins, girlfriends, the 101-year old mother of one Daring Diana airman plus two fiancées — one with a heartrending tale of undying devotion to her sweetheart who never came home. Their individual stories may be typical of wartime tragedies, but taken together they comprise a deeply compelling account of love, emotional devastation, latter-day comprehension, reawakened pride in wartime deeds, and, for some, a long-awaited measure of peace. How fortunate I am to have uncovered and shared so much.

For the ever-shrinking number of folks who endured the war against Japan, and celebrated VJ Day, those unique times no doubt still feel – as my mother used to say – ‘like yesterday’.

As someone born twelve years after George’s loss over Burma, I guarantee that not all those who came after have allowed the echoes from this overlooked conflict to fade. I, for one, remember with awe and humility those brave airmen who fought the ‘forgotten war’.Join us on Facebook Live on 30th December at 14:00 for an exclusive interview with the author Matt Poole, who talks about his research into the RAF Liberator Daring Diana, lost over Rangoon during WW2 with Air Mail’s Joe Hall as part of our ongoing PROJECT: Entertain series.