Roaring towards the French coast, the Mosquito flew just 40ft above the waves to avoid detection from German radar then soared to 1,500ft before the message went out: “Tally ho, target ahead.”
The bomber then dived to 300ft, firing five shots at the weaving U-boat, before speeding away to safety.
Nearly 50 years after that Second World War raid, the navigator, Flight Lieutenant Des Curtis, who was only 20 at the time, received an offer to send a letter to the submarine’s commander, Raimond Teisler, who lost four comrades in the attack.
Des agonised for weeks about what to write but after receiving a reply the two men developed an incredible friendship and visited each other.
Flt Lt Curtis, now 95, described the first meeting in Germany, saying: “It was very emotional. Our wives kept their distance because they didn’t know how we would reconcile our differences.

"I walked into his garden, called out ‘I’m looking for Herr Raimond Teisler’ and a voice said, ‘I’m here’. He stood up and without saying a word we hugged.
"He said in very good English, ‘I like what I see’. That was the start of a very close friendship.”
Des worked as a bank clerk before enlisting in the RAF at the age of 18.
He trained as a navigator in Canada until he was selected for the newly formed 618 Squadron, which had links to the legendary Dambusters 617.
On March 25, 1944 he was navigator in a mission to sink U-976 as it left a port near St Nazaire, France. The grandad remembers every detail.
He said: “Our task was to seek out U-boats as they entered or left their heavily protected bases on the French Atlantic coast. We were given precise times and locations from intercepted German naval signals.


“The speed of the Mosquito gave us a sporting chance of success measured against the heavier, slower aircraft that were searching the deeper waters.
“We set off at 9.05am, as there was a window of 30 to 40 minutes when we knew the U-boat would not be fully submerged. We aimed for the sea near to the ballast tank, so when the shell hit the water it would change direction into the surface of the vessel.
"Our No 2 aircraft was able to silence the guns but the flanking minesweepers were firing at us and as we were in view of land the shore batteries had us in their sights too.
Des recalls “it was a very dangerous place to be so we sped away. Later we learned we’d sunk the U-976, which went down in 20 minutes. Sadly, they lost four men but we were pleased to have taken the submarine out of action.”

The attack was later immortalised on the front page of the boys’ own adventure magazine Victor.
Des flew 70 sorties with pilot Doug Turner and was awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross.
Following the war he married, had two children and worked as an accountant in the petroleum industry. But the fate of the German sailors who escaped from U-976, which had a crew of 53, was always at the back of his mind.
In 1990 he wrote to a German historian asking for more information about the crew. By chance the man was friends with Raimond and offered to pass on a letter.
Des says: “I asked myself, how do you write a letter to a chap and say that, years ago, I tried to kill you? It took a month to write it but I eventually got a reply saying he would like to meet me when he had recovered from hip surgery.”

Des and his wife travelled to Herdecke, West Germany. The men and their wives visited the Mohne Dam, which flooded Raimond’s home village when it was destroyed by the Dambusters.
Des said: “Raimond felt no resentment towards me for the dam raid or the U-boat. We knew we were two soldiers on different sides with a job to do. I was happy to take his U-boat out of service but glad that he survived.”
“He once told me, ‘Why did I have to wait so long to find a younger brother?’. It just shows you the futility of war.”
Raimond visited Des in Bournemouth, Dorset, before his death five years ago.
Widower Des believes he is the last surviving member of the 618 Squadron.

He adds: “There is sadness at the friends who were killed and the fact you become hardened to loss.
“But also a great sense of achievement at having done my bit for my country.
“I defy anyone to have not felt a sense of fear, but you had to hide it.
“We were flying over open water and if we went down our bodies would probably never be recovered. I was one of the lucky ones because I survived – and I’m somehow still here today.”