Stirling bale out

Details of events
2130 hrs, 1 May 1943 The Stirling took off from Lakenheath and headed for the Gironde estuary (Deodars) in Bordeaux in very dirty weather with plenty of cloud cover. Lake Hourtin was located and three separate runs were made, with one 1500lb. mine being dropped on each run. Their troubles began just as the last mine was dropped. The starboard inner engine was hit by fire from either a gun on the shore of the lake or a flak ship. Its'
pressure dropped to 55, the temperature increased to 105 and it was immediately feathered.

The pilot brought the Stirling up to altitude for the return trip. Their course was to cross the Bay of Biscay west of Cherbourg and then head for Lakenheath . At this point they were jumped by a JU-88 and suffered quite a bit of damage, mainly to the port inner engine and to the radio. The Wireless Operator, Sunderland, was lucky not to have been hit.

During the return, they ran into electrical storms that rendered the compasses unreliable. As if that wasn't enough, severe icing was also encountered.

Sunderland had managed to get the radio working again and called out to Darkie for assistance. They were ordered to land at West Malling. Blair was able to home in on the radio directional beacon of West Malling, as well as those of Gatwick, Tangmere, and one other. He visually established each station by a Morse red coloured signal with the intention of completing a circuit in preparation for landing; this was not possible since the cloud base was never higher than 200 feet. While trying to get into West Malling, he remembers haystacks flying past him!

It was at this point that Blair decided there was nothing for it but to bale the boys out as they were becoming very low on fuel. They knew exactly where they were, but could see nothing. Fritz, the navigator, worked out a course to take the aircraft to the nearest point on the south coast. The crew was well practiced in the drill of abandoning aircraft. Blair brought the Stirling up as high as their remaining fuel would allow to enable the crew to make a safe exit. They broke through the clouds at 7500 feet and began the abandoning process at 8000 feet.

0532hrs 2 May 1943. They had been in the air for over eight hours. Once the crew had jumped, they were strung out over a distance of 12 miles in the area of Uckfield in Sussex. The Stirling went on to crash 4 1/2 miles NE of the Couplain Police Station at Windmill Hill, near Clanfield and Havant, Hampshire. It had run out of fuel and didn't burn but simply broke up. A researcher sent me the scissors from its first aid kit. Apparently a local farmer still has the crew ladder.

The crew's luck had held. They were not so popular however, when they arrived back at Lakenheath. Blair was placed under open arrest for 'disobeying orders'. These were to fly due north as there was clear weather ahead but this order came in when they were down to 20 minutes of fuel. Fortunately, after investigation, nothing came of the charge. After survivor's leave, the crew began ops again on 13 May with a trip to Duisburg where they were coned by searchlights for five minutes over the target.

Alec Davidson, Bomb Aimer, from Greenock Scotland, had only just joined the crew and became its oldest member. He had volunteered for operations seeking excitement. He immediately got all that he ever hoped for on this night, his very first operation. I remember clearly as a boy my father telling me that he assisted Alec on with his parachute as initially he hadn't got it quite right. When I eventually corresponded with Alec Davidson in 1985, he confirmed that was perfectly true.

Alec landed near what he remembers to be a small village of Nutley. He remembers being over a field in the mist and not seeing anything until he hit a tree about 30 feet up. He landed in a trough cut into the field full of cow dung and just lay there feeling delighted that he was alive. He then dug into his inside battledress pocket, produced a cigarette and had what he claimed to be the best smoke ever! Gathering up his parachute, he made his way towards a house at the end of the field. When he was about 30 yards away, a top window opened and a shotgun was aimed at him by one of the farm hands. Everyone in this part of England seemed to be armed! He was soon taken in to the house where he was given a boiled egg, tea and toast. He had lost one of his flying boots in the descent (the one in which he kept his flashlight) and the farm hand gave him a spare boot. Alec said that he couldn't imagine how his host could stand his company what with the 'pong' of his flying suit. He was then taken down the road to the manor house of the farm. Upon arriving he saw one of the crew lodged at the top of a very tall tree, his parachute caught on one of the highest branches. The village fire brigade was already present with their ladders, attempting to rescue him. They were made to feel very welcome in the manor house by the elderly owner and his two sisters. Alec was whipped into a bathroom right away. His clothes were sent away to be cleaned and after his bath he appeared downstairs in a pair of the old chap's flannels and sport jacket. It was all a bit much as Alec was 5'8" compared to his host at 6'3".

Laurie Blair, pilot, remembers that with both the front and rear hatches open the wind streamed through the aircraft was like a tornado. My father was the first out the front hatch as he felt that if he saw someone else first disappear through that black hole, it would be much more difficult for him to follow. The bomb aimer followed him but only after continuously asking if Blair was going to be all right. Blair finally convinced Alec that he would be fine but only if Alec jumped immediately so that he could follow him! The rest of the crew jumped from the rear escape hatch and reported to Blair as they left, so he was aware that they were safely away. With everyone away, Blair stood on the steps down to the bomb aimer's compartment, did his best to steady the aircraft from that position and then dove through the front escape hatch.

Blair remembers the Stirling roaring away from him as he fell through the front escape hatch. His descent was completely through dense cloud until he was approximately 200 feet from the ground. He landed in a barnyard in a pile of straw. While he was shedding his parachute, he was approached by an old fellow who pointed a shotgun at him and was prepared to take him into custody. Blair, being a Kiwi, could not understand a word of the dialect that the fellow was speaking. In desperation, he unzipped his flying suit and showed him the 'New Zealand' shoulder flash and the blue uniform he was wearing. It wasn't, however, until the farmer's 12 year old grandson came to help that the matter was sorted out. Apparently the old chap didn't take kindly to this conclusion as it shattered any future story to his mates about capturing a German. They then continued to the police station at Uckfield where, with the aid of the Senior Sergeant of Police, they set about tracing the location of the crew.

As Fritz Giacomelli fell away from the aircraft he heard the roar of the Stirling as it sped away into the night. When he pulled the ripcord, the chest mounted chute struck him in the face and cut him. Once he had descended below the clouds he recalled seeing two lakes below him in the darkness. He prepared for a water landing but he landed between them. At this point he was overcome by fatigue, and wrapping himself in his parachute, fell asleep. When he awoke after daylight, he came to a few abandoned buildings but continued on until he came to some sort of minor military installation. While he was explaining his situation to the staff, it was noticed that he was wearing a bracelet that my mother (then his girlfriend) had given to him. The bracelet was engraved "Fritz Giacomelli". Fritz was another nickname for Ferrucio but this was too much for the guards who thought they had a German/Italian spy on their hands. As a result, he was detained under guard until the matter was cleared up.

Frank Johnson, Flight Engineer, was also hit in the face when the chute opened, and due to the considerable oscillation of the chute, he became somewhat nauseated during the decent. He eventually landed in a tree in the Ashdown Forest about 15 feet in the air. After jumping to the ground from his harness, he continued to walk through the woods, all the while blowing his battledress whistle. Only a cuckoo answered! Eventually he came upon a warden's cottage. The warden took no chances and kept a gun on him while he marched Frank to a military camp from where he attempted to report his situation by telephone. At this point a chap from the War Office turned up who owned a manor house in the Ashdown Forest. Frank was taken there and soon met up with other members of the crew. Frank kept his ripcord and has since given it to his grandson.

At the manor house the crew was treated like royalty. They each had their own bathroom and were fed bacon and eggs. They were able to play pool in the games room -- as Frank Johnson told me: "It was something out of the book".

Nanton Sunderland (Sundy), the Wireless Operator, sustained the only injury during the bailout. He jumped from the rear exit, but couldn't remember whether he should land tense or relaxed. He chose the latter since he had heard of sleeping people surviving car crashes. As a result, when he landed, his jaw hit his knee and he tore a ligament in his left knee. This eventually required a hospital stay back at the base, causing him to miss the crew's next five operations. He made his way to a home where he attempted to communicate with his base. The telephone operator informed him that others of his crew were trying to do the same. After speaking to them, he made his way to the manor house. All he remembered about his stay there was that he beat the old gentleman in a game of pool. He, too, still had his ripcord when I visited him and his wife in August of 1984 in Lloydminster, Alberta, Canada.

The time the crew stayed at the manor house was vague in the memories of the crew. It varied from a few hours to four days. What they did remember was that they were very well treated. As Alec said " We were fed like fighting cocks, and given any drink we had a notion for. They couldn't have done more for us." My father was the last to be accounted for once it was confirmed that he was not a spy. Unfortunately he missed out on all of the hospitality. They eventually travelled back to the squadron by rail as the crew was not prepared to fly on a service aircraft without parachutes.

May 1996 I visited the Nanton Lancaster Society south of Calgary, Alberta, Canada. This is an organisation of volunteers that has put together an impressive collection of WWII aircrew memorabilia and training aircraft of the British Commonwealth Air Training Program in addition to their pride and joy, a Canadian built Lancaster X. While looking at the many models of WWII aircraft on display, my eye was immediately drawn to a model of the Stirling which was coded OJ - V of 149 Sqn. What really grabbed my attention was the serial number of the aircraft - BK696.

I learned that one of the volunteers of the Society, Dave Birrell, had a father-in-law, Stew Robertson, who was a Squadron Leader briefly with 149 Sqn. It transpired that Stew had flown BK696 on operations before its last flight. It had been damaged by enemy action and had gone in for repairs. It was during this period that the aircraft's identity had been changed from V to L. Dave had commissioned the model of the Stirling wearing the markings of his late father-in-law's aircraft in his honour.

While at the Society's display I also noticed some Lancaster flight instruments that had been taken from a Canadian Lancaster X--KB839. I also learned that KB839 supplied its engines to the current flying Lancaster of the Canadian Warplane Heritage Association in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. Just to show you what a small world it is, you should know that later in the war while serving on his second tour with 419 Sqn of 6 Group RCAF, my father and his crew took up this very same aircraft in an air test. KB839 survives to this day -- it stands as a gate guardian outside Canadian Forces Base Greenwood in Nova Scotia, Canada.

There is no mention of any aircraft being lost. In fact, Stirling III BK696 'L' never made it back to Lakenheath or any other air base , but ended up scattered across a remote hillside near Havant, Hampshire.

Even the details of its sortie listed under "Detail of Work Carried Out" provide no indication of what happened that night.

One small clue to differentiate this entry from others on the page is that no Time Up or Time Down was entered for this aircraft.