DESTINATION UNKNOWN
or
Six Sacks of Potatoes
by E. Harvey Firestone
26 September 1944 - 5 to 8 a.m.
A large fireball gushed out of the exhaust of our starboard engine and the aircraft shook violently. I had just settled in to the turret and had completed my checks on the equipment after changing watches with Ken Graham, another of the three wireless air gunners in our crew. Ken had been in the rear turret and I had been on the radar set. We were on an anti submarine patrol over the North Sea off the coast of Norway in our Vickers Wellington Mk XIV early in the morning of September 26th, 1944. A hasty glance at the flames engulfing the engine confirmed my sudden fears that the plane was on fire.
Pilot Gord Biddle's voice on the intercom advising the crew of the problem and then directing me to hurry forward to help get rid of all items that we could do without, gave me little time for thought other than to get to the task at hand. It was absolutely vital to reduce the weight carried in order to maintain height and not put excess strain on the remaining engine.
I scrambled out of the turret and hurried forward to find George Deeth, our co-pilot, and Maurice Neil, our navigator, busily throwing the batteries that powered the Leigh-light out of the forward hatch. Graham was in the process of dismantling and throwing out the radar equipment. Biddle immediately had turned for home and jettisoned the depth charges, nonetheless we were still losing altitude at an alarming rate.
At the first hint of trouble George Grandy, the third wireless air gunner, at the wireless set, was told to break radio silence telling Group (our Coastal Command control) of our predicament. We never used our radios for transmission purposes when we were in enemy territory other than in emergency situations. The reason being that the enemy could track our signals and locate our position. Grandy immediately sent out a QDM-5 signal in Morse code. QDM is the equivalent of International Morse Code S- 0-S. It has different levels of priority however, a QDM signal is always followed by a numeric of 1 to 5 with 1 having the highest level of priority and indicating the greatest emergency and 5 the least.
Radio reception fortunately was good but the news that Group had for us was not. They informed us that there was no change due in the weather, the headwind we faced was not expected to abate but rather increase. They suggested that we do not head for home but that we should tcy to reach the Shetland Islands, the nearest point of friendly land. They also told us to continue sending signals to them so that they could plot our course and attempt to monitor our position.
Everything that we could possibly do without was thrown out of the aircraft. As mentioned before the batteries, the Gee box (a navigational aid), radar, flares, even the Leigh-light went, which proved to be quite a problem for Graham and me. We did, after quite a struggle, manage to free it from its mountings and it plunged into the dark waters below. Our next concern was the many rounds of ammunition that we carried for our four guns in the turret. I suggested that I go back to the turret and fire the guns off, but Biddle vetoed that idea. He felt that movement at the back of the aircraft would make it much too hard for him to control the aircraft and he did not want to chance losing any more altitude. Graham and I therefore had to dispose of them through the opening where the Leigh-light had been.
After we had thrown out all of the ammunition, I spotted our parachutes and, after checking with the others in the crew, we concluded that it would not be possible to use them in the situation we were in. We believed that we could not survive if we parachuted into the raging seas below us. The water was too cold and we could not possibly endure for more than just a couple of minutes. We concluded that we had to stay with the plane in order to survive, so out went the chutes. Some minutes later our appraisal of the situation was confirmed by Group.
Neil and Deeth were hard at work ridding the aircraft of all excess items in the nose of the aircraft. They tossed out the ammunition for the single gun that we carried in the nose and all other items that were not needed for our survival. Graham and I did likewise, throwing out any item, no matter how small. We steadily continued to lose altitude however, and we had descended below the 1000 foot level. It was absolutely imperative that we further reduce the weight load.
Biddle decided, after consulting with Neil and Deeth, that as we had about 5000 lbs. of petrol still in the wing tanks, we could jettison about three quarters of this fuel and still reach the Shetland coast. The jettison valve was opened for roughly twenty seconds, then closed. The fuel gauges were closely checked as the petrol gushed out from the wing outlets.
Graham watched from the astrodome, and to our apprehension reported that he could still see petrol gushing from the wing outlet, even though Biddle had closed the jettison valve when the gauges showed that we still had enough petrol remaining in the tank to reach land.
Biddle re-opened the fuel jettison valve and then immediately shut it off again. When it was shut off the flow slowed to a trickle, then gushed out again. Both Biddle and Deeth operated the valve several times in an attempt to stem the flow of petrol but the valve acted the same each time. No matter what was tried they couldn't succeed in making the jettison valve close. We were little cheered by their reports over the intercom that the meter was continuing to drop until it finally showed that there was no petrol left in the wing tanks. The flames that continued to engulf the engine were forgotten. Our concerns were entirely taken up by our new predicament.
A hasty appraisal of our position confirmed all our fears. It was evident that we could no longer hope to reach the Shetland Islands against the 50 knot head-wind we had to face. We had only 92 gallons of petrol in our reserve tanks. We were well over 125 miles away from Sumburgh, the nearest English base. Ifwe continued on it was inevitable that we would have to ditch at sea with little hope of survival and ultimate rescue.
We knew that under ideal conditions a Wellington would float for less than sixty seconds. With the Leigh-light gone we had a large gaping hole in the belly of the aircraft; we had our doubts that the plane would stay afloat for more than thirty seconds. Notwithstanding the fact that we were proud of our prowess as the best crew in ditching procedures in all Coastal Command (we held the record for being the fastest and most efficient crew), we questioned if we could manage under the severe conditions we had to face. Grandy, at the wireless, changed our QDM priority status to QDM-3; he advised Group how our circumstances had degenerated.
There was no consolation in their reply; they warned us that we could not possibly survive for any length of time even if we were able to ditch successfully in the freezing, violent seas below. They confirmed that the waves were fifty to sixty feet in height and that we would most likely be swamped in the very small dinghy we carried aboard. They also advised us that the weather conditions would not allow for an air-sea rescue operation, and that there was no likelihood of one for many hours as the storm which was now raging furiously would not abate for some time. We also learned there were no vessels anywhere in our flight path and we were the only aircraft in the area; all other flights after we had taken-off had been cancelled.
It was essential that we make an immediate decision. We all recognized, very reluctantly, that our only chance at survival would be to turn around to take advantage of the wind, and head for Norway, which was less than 100 miles away. We speculated that if our luck held out and we did get to the Norwegian mainland, we could try to evade capture by the Germans, cross to Sweden and seek haven there. We advised Group of our conclusions and they acknowledged. They directed us to continue sending signals so that they could plot our course and wished us luck. Occupied as we were, we had little apprehension of what might be in store for us. Our immediate priority was to turn the aircraft around and to head east for the coast of Norway. Biddle, with some difficulty, managed a wide flat turn and headed for enemy territory.
Having reduced the weight load of the aircraft we were able to maintain altitude, which by this time was roughly 800 feet. The good engine was functioning well and it was not over-heating. We had taken an emergency rope off the Leigh-light and Deeth and Neil relieved the strain on Biddle's leg by attaching the rope around the rudder and tying it in position around a brace in the nose. Grandy kept sending QDM's to Group, Graham continued to throw any item that was considered expendable from the aircraft, while I helped Deeth and Neil with the rope.
Our ground speed had picked up considerably with the strong wind at our back, and shortly after dawn, about 6:30 a.m. we caught our first glimpse of the rugged coastline of Norway through the slowly clearing haze. We could see nothing but mountains with low hanging clouds obscuring their lofty peaks.
A check of our remaining petrol supply evidenced the fact that we would be exceedingly fortunate if we could be able to remain airborne until we reached land. The intercom, which had been quiet for a short spell, was turned on and we heard the subdued voice of Ken Graham softly praying as we drew ever closer to enemy occupied territory and our unknown destiny.
With visibility clearing somewhat we were able to detect some of the many islands that make up the west coast of Norway. Biddle spotted what appeared to be an entrance to a fjord and headed towards it. To add to our apprehension we sighted several large ships, and a U-boat, directly in our path. We had no choice but to fly over the convoy.
As we neared the ships, though still a fair distance away, we were met by heavy gun-fire. I happened to be forward looking out over Biddle's right shoulder at the time. At the sight of shells exploding off our starboard wing and tracer bullets heading our way I informed him that we were being fired upon. I will never forget the look of detachment on his face as he turned to me, shrugged his shoulders and with complete indifference said, "so what?"
I hurried back to the radio position where our Very pistol was stored. I fired off the cartridge that was in the pistol in the hope that we could confuse the German gunners into thinking that we were a friendly plane. Both the Allies and the German forces used cartridges containing different coloured flares to help identify themselves. There were very many different colour combinations and the combinations of colours used was changed every few hours.
I then went forward again to see the results. The gunners had stopped firing momentarily, but started to fire again when they realized our duplicity. I then went back, fired off another cartridge, but deceived no one. The shooting seemed to intensify. I plugged in my headphones to listen to what was transpiring forward; the intercom did not work. I bent down to check it, as it was located against the side of the aircraft at Grandy's left, in fact I had to move his leg to see what the trouble was. I reached out to feel for the box only to find that it had been blown away by a shell and there was a gaping hole in the side of the aircraft where it had been. Grandy was still sending QDM's back to England completely unaware of all that was going on around him.
As I straightened and turned from Grandy's side I spotted Graham trying to take in all he could of what was transpiring outside by standing on his toes and stretching to look out the astrodome. I saw tracer bullets enter just beside him, but he too was oblivious to the firing from the ships. I went forward, to discover that our good engine had been hit, and Biddle and Deeth were searching for a place to put the plane down as we had lost all power. They instructed me to tell Grandy and Graham that we were going in, and to take crash positions.
Grandy sent a final message to Group informing them that we were attempting a crash landing. Although we were in a desperate predicament he never upgraded our distress signal to maximum priority; he continued sending QDM-3 to the end. He tied down the key that enabled our radio transmission to be plotted by our Group operating stations.
Grandy then strapped himself in at the wireless set, Neil was on the navigator's table, Biddle was in the pilot's position, Deeth, after first pumping down the flaps, and opening the top hatch, took up his place behind the door. Graham and I braced ourselves on the floor behind the main spar. Silently we turned to each other, shook hands and waited, wondering if we were going to be able to make it to land or if we were going to crash into the sea.
A large fireball gushed out of the exhaust of our starboard engine and the aircraft shook violently. I had just settled in to the turret and had completed my checks on the equipment after changing watches with Ken Graham, another of the three wireless air gunners in our crew. Ken had been in the rear turret and I had been on the radar set. We were on an anti submarine patrol over the North Sea off the coast of Norway in our Vickers Wellington Mk XIV early in the morning of September 26th, 1944. A hasty glance at the flames engulfing the engine confirmed my sudden fears that the plane was on fire.
Pilot Gord Biddle's voice on the intercom advising the crew of the problem and then directing me to hurry forward to help get rid of all items that we could do without, gave me little time for thought other than to get to the task at hand. It was absolutely vital to reduce the weight carried in order to maintain height and not put excess strain on the remaining engine.
I scrambled out of the turret and hurried forward to find George Deeth, our co-pilot, and Maurice Neil, our navigator, busily throwing the batteries that powered the Leigh-light out of the forward hatch. Graham was in the process of dismantling and throwing out the radar equipment. Biddle immediately had turned for home and jettisoned the depth charges, nonetheless we were still losing altitude at an alarming rate.
At the first hint of trouble George Grandy, the third wireless air gunner, at the wireless set, was told to break radio silence telling Group (our Coastal Command control) of our predicament. We never used our radios for transmission purposes when we were in enemy territory other than in emergency situations. The reason being that the enemy could track our signals and locate our position. Grandy immediately sent out a QDM-5 signal in Morse code. QDM is the equivalent of International Morse Code S- 0-S. It has different levels of priority however, a QDM signal is always followed by a numeric of 1 to 5 with 1 having the highest level of priority and indicating the greatest emergency and 5 the least.
Radio reception fortunately was good but the news that Group had for us was not. They informed us that there was no change due in the weather, the headwind we faced was not expected to abate but rather increase. They suggested that we do not head for home but that we should tcy to reach the Shetland Islands, the nearest point of friendly land. They also told us to continue sending signals to them so that they could plot our course and attempt to monitor our position.
Everything that we could possibly do without was thrown out of the aircraft. As mentioned before the batteries, the Gee box (a navigational aid), radar, flares, even the Leigh-light went, which proved to be quite a problem for Graham and me. We did, after quite a struggle, manage to free it from its mountings and it plunged into the dark waters below. Our next concern was the many rounds of ammunition that we carried for our four guns in the turret. I suggested that I go back to the turret and fire the guns off, but Biddle vetoed that idea. He felt that movement at the back of the aircraft would make it much too hard for him to control the aircraft and he did not want to chance losing any more altitude. Graham and I therefore had to dispose of them through the opening where the Leigh-light had been.
After we had thrown out all of the ammunition, I spotted our parachutes and, after checking with the others in the crew, we concluded that it would not be possible to use them in the situation we were in. We believed that we could not survive if we parachuted into the raging seas below us. The water was too cold and we could not possibly endure for more than just a couple of minutes. We concluded that we had to stay with the plane in order to survive, so out went the chutes. Some minutes later our appraisal of the situation was confirmed by Group.
Neil and Deeth were hard at work ridding the aircraft of all excess items in the nose of the aircraft. They tossed out the ammunition for the single gun that we carried in the nose and all other items that were not needed for our survival. Graham and I did likewise, throwing out any item, no matter how small. We steadily continued to lose altitude however, and we had descended below the 1000 foot level. It was absolutely imperative that we further reduce the weight load.
Biddle decided, after consulting with Neil and Deeth, that as we had about 5000 lbs. of petrol still in the wing tanks, we could jettison about three quarters of this fuel and still reach the Shetland coast. The jettison valve was opened for roughly twenty seconds, then closed. The fuel gauges were closely checked as the petrol gushed out from the wing outlets.
Graham watched from the astrodome, and to our apprehension reported that he could still see petrol gushing from the wing outlet, even though Biddle had closed the jettison valve when the gauges showed that we still had enough petrol remaining in the tank to reach land.
Biddle re-opened the fuel jettison valve and then immediately shut it off again. When it was shut off the flow slowed to a trickle, then gushed out again. Both Biddle and Deeth operated the valve several times in an attempt to stem the flow of petrol but the valve acted the same each time. No matter what was tried they couldn't succeed in making the jettison valve close. We were little cheered by their reports over the intercom that the meter was continuing to drop until it finally showed that there was no petrol left in the wing tanks. The flames that continued to engulf the engine were forgotten. Our concerns were entirely taken up by our new predicament.
A hasty appraisal of our position confirmed all our fears. It was evident that we could no longer hope to reach the Shetland Islands against the 50 knot head-wind we had to face. We had only 92 gallons of petrol in our reserve tanks. We were well over 125 miles away from Sumburgh, the nearest English base. Ifwe continued on it was inevitable that we would have to ditch at sea with little hope of survival and ultimate rescue.
We knew that under ideal conditions a Wellington would float for less than sixty seconds. With the Leigh-light gone we had a large gaping hole in the belly of the aircraft; we had our doubts that the plane would stay afloat for more than thirty seconds. Notwithstanding the fact that we were proud of our prowess as the best crew in ditching procedures in all Coastal Command (we held the record for being the fastest and most efficient crew), we questioned if we could manage under the severe conditions we had to face. Grandy, at the wireless, changed our QDM priority status to QDM-3; he advised Group how our circumstances had degenerated.
There was no consolation in their reply; they warned us that we could not possibly survive for any length of time even if we were able to ditch successfully in the freezing, violent seas below. They confirmed that the waves were fifty to sixty feet in height and that we would most likely be swamped in the very small dinghy we carried aboard. They also advised us that the weather conditions would not allow for an air-sea rescue operation, and that there was no likelihood of one for many hours as the storm which was now raging furiously would not abate for some time. We also learned there were no vessels anywhere in our flight path and we were the only aircraft in the area; all other flights after we had taken-off had been cancelled.
It was essential that we make an immediate decision. We all recognized, very reluctantly, that our only chance at survival would be to turn around to take advantage of the wind, and head for Norway, which was less than 100 miles away. We speculated that if our luck held out and we did get to the Norwegian mainland, we could try to evade capture by the Germans, cross to Sweden and seek haven there. We advised Group of our conclusions and they acknowledged. They directed us to continue sending signals so that they could plot our course and wished us luck. Occupied as we were, we had little apprehension of what might be in store for us. Our immediate priority was to turn the aircraft around and to head east for the coast of Norway. Biddle, with some difficulty, managed a wide flat turn and headed for enemy territory.
Having reduced the weight load of the aircraft we were able to maintain altitude, which by this time was roughly 800 feet. The good engine was functioning well and it was not over-heating. We had taken an emergency rope off the Leigh-light and Deeth and Neil relieved the strain on Biddle's leg by attaching the rope around the rudder and tying it in position around a brace in the nose. Grandy kept sending QDM's to Group, Graham continued to throw any item that was considered expendable from the aircraft, while I helped Deeth and Neil with the rope.
Our ground speed had picked up considerably with the strong wind at our back, and shortly after dawn, about 6:30 a.m. we caught our first glimpse of the rugged coastline of Norway through the slowly clearing haze. We could see nothing but mountains with low hanging clouds obscuring their lofty peaks.
A check of our remaining petrol supply evidenced the fact that we would be exceedingly fortunate if we could be able to remain airborne until we reached land. The intercom, which had been quiet for a short spell, was turned on and we heard the subdued voice of Ken Graham softly praying as we drew ever closer to enemy occupied territory and our unknown destiny.
With visibility clearing somewhat we were able to detect some of the many islands that make up the west coast of Norway. Biddle spotted what appeared to be an entrance to a fjord and headed towards it. To add to our apprehension we sighted several large ships, and a U-boat, directly in our path. We had no choice but to fly over the convoy.
As we neared the ships, though still a fair distance away, we were met by heavy gun-fire. I happened to be forward looking out over Biddle's right shoulder at the time. At the sight of shells exploding off our starboard wing and tracer bullets heading our way I informed him that we were being fired upon. I will never forget the look of detachment on his face as he turned to me, shrugged his shoulders and with complete indifference said, "so what?"
I hurried back to the radio position where our Very pistol was stored. I fired off the cartridge that was in the pistol in the hope that we could confuse the German gunners into thinking that we were a friendly plane. Both the Allies and the German forces used cartridges containing different coloured flares to help identify themselves. There were very many different colour combinations and the combinations of colours used was changed every few hours.
I then went forward again to see the results. The gunners had stopped firing momentarily, but started to fire again when they realized our duplicity. I then went back, fired off another cartridge, but deceived no one. The shooting seemed to intensify. I plugged in my headphones to listen to what was transpiring forward; the intercom did not work. I bent down to check it, as it was located against the side of the aircraft at Grandy's left, in fact I had to move his leg to see what the trouble was. I reached out to feel for the box only to find that it had been blown away by a shell and there was a gaping hole in the side of the aircraft where it had been. Grandy was still sending QDM's back to England completely unaware of all that was going on around him.
As I straightened and turned from Grandy's side I spotted Graham trying to take in all he could of what was transpiring outside by standing on his toes and stretching to look out the astrodome. I saw tracer bullets enter just beside him, but he too was oblivious to the firing from the ships. I went forward, to discover that our good engine had been hit, and Biddle and Deeth were searching for a place to put the plane down as we had lost all power. They instructed me to tell Grandy and Graham that we were going in, and to take crash positions.
Grandy sent a final message to Group informing them that we were attempting a crash landing. Although we were in a desperate predicament he never upgraded our distress signal to maximum priority; he continued sending QDM-3 to the end. He tied down the key that enabled our radio transmission to be plotted by our Group operating stations.
Grandy then strapped himself in at the wireless set, Neil was on the navigator's table, Biddle was in the pilot's position, Deeth, after first pumping down the flaps, and opening the top hatch, took up his place behind the door. Graham and I braced ourselves on the floor behind the main spar. Silently we turned to each other, shook hands and waited, wondering if we were going to be able to make it to land or if we were going to crash into the sea.
