September 26, 1994 – 5:00 AM: A Bomber in Trouble
Early in the morning on Tuesday, September 26, 1944, the starboard engine of a Wellington bomber on anti-submarine patrol off the coast of Norway coughed and sprayed sparks, but then rumbled smoothly again. Captain Gordon Biddle climbed to 3000 feet before levelling off to resume the patrol. Soon the starboard engine coughed again, and then erupted into a huge fireball, shaking the plane violently with the explosion. Biddle throttled off the engine while co-pilot George Death [1] activated the engine fire extinguisher.
Biddle immediately turn to head back to base in Scotland and released the depth-charges to reduce the plane's weight. Biddle got on the intercom to give the navigator and three wireless air-gunners a status report on the engine and on their change of course. Biddle ordered Wireless Air Gunner Harvey Firestone to move forward to help the others jettison unnecessary equipment to ease the load on the remaining engine. Death and Navigator Maurice Neil threw out the batteries for the Leigh-light [2], while Wireless Air Gunner Kenneth Graham dismantled the radar equipment and jettisoned it. Graham and Firestone then tackled the Leigh-light itself and after a struggle were able to free it from its mountings and send it plunging into the dark sea below.
Despite their efforts, they were still losing height at an alarming rate. Next to go was the machine-gun ammunition. Firestone suggested that he go back and fire the guns until they were empty, but Biddle was concerned that firing the weapons would affect his control of the plane. Graham and Firestone shoved the ammunition boxes out the opening where the Leigh-light had been.
The plane had been maintaining radio silence near Nazi-occupied Norway. Biddle ordered Wireless Air Gunner George Grandy, who was on duty at the radio, to break radio silence to inform Group (Coastal Command Headquarters) of their predicament. Grandy sent a Morse-code message [3] – QDM5. QDM was the equivalent of SOS. QDM has different levels from 1 to 5, with 5 being the lowest level of emergency.
While the crew was relieved to make contact with Group headquarters, the contents of the response were discouraging. The wet and windy weather was not going to improve. They would face increasingly strong headwinds on the way back to Scotland. Instead of trying to return to their base in Scotland, they were directed to head towards the closest Allied territory – the Shetland Islands north of Scotland. Grandy continued to send signals so that Group HQ could track their course.
While the crew was looking for things to jettison, they came across the parachutes. They all agreed that they would never survive if they jumped out of the plane and into the violent sea below them. The water was so cold that they could not have survived more than a couple of minutes. They decided they had to remain in the plane, so out went the parachutes. They were again below 1000 feet and still continuing to lose altitude, so it was essential that they continue to reduce weight.
After conferring with Death and Neil, Biddle decided that they could release three quarters of the fuel in the wing tanks and still have enough left to reach Shetland. They opened the gas jettison valve for 20 seconds. But fate conspired against the six young airmen. Fuel continued to streamed out after they closed the valve. Biddle opened and closed the valve again. The stream slowed to a trickle, but then gushed out again. Biddle and Death repeatedly tried to close the valve, but always with the same result. Within minutes, the entire supply in the wing tanks had sprayed into the wind. The only remaining fuel was a reserve tank of 450 liters; the Wellington could stay airborne for only half an hour with that little fuel.
George Grandy stayed continuously at the Morse key, and now elevated the status from QDM-5 to QDM-3, informing Group how conditions had deteriorated.
A Wellington could stay afloat maybe sixty seconds at the best of times, but with the gaping hole in the fuselage left by the removal of the Leigh-light, they could not count on half that time. The waves were from 50 to 60 feet high, and the little lifeboat that they had on board would quickly fill with water and sink. The response from Group HQ confirmed that the weather would prevent an air-sea rescue and that in any event, there were no other aircraft or allied ships in the area. The weather report that the storm would let up over the next few hours.
There was no real choice – Shetland was well over 125 miles [4] away and the coast of Norway considerably less than 100 miles off. Their only chance to reach land was to turn around, take advantage of the 50 mile per hour wind from the west and head for Norway [5]. Grandy informed Group, which agreed with the decision and asked them to continue to send signals, and ended the message with “Good luck.”
Captain Biddle swung the machine around again on the new course – east to Nazi-occupied territory. In minutes they threw overboard all the material that did not want to fall into enemy hands. Out went code books, maps and charts, personal papers and letters. Neil sighed as he tore a check in two – it was his poker winnings from a successful evening a few days earlier.
At full power, Biddle was able to maintain an altitude of 800 feet. With only one engine functioning, the plane had a natural tendency to turn and Biddle had to counteract that tendency by steady pressure on the foot-controlled rudder. The rudder was controlled simply by wires from the foot-controls, and it took strength to push several square feet of control surface against the wind created by the plane's speed. Death, Neil and Firestone were able to use a rope to tie the rudder in place to ease the strain on Biddle's legs.
A check on the fuel gauge showed that they would be incredibly lucky to be reach land. The intercom had been silent for a while, but now the muffled voice of Graham could be heard praying.
The crew constantly listened to the one engine, which continued to function normally. Flying with the wind, the plane's ground-speed had increased considerably, and with the first grey of dawn, the crew could make out mountain peaks over the horizon. The wind gusts moderated gradually and the rain storm slowly abated.
As the weather continued to clear up, they could see that they were over a large number of islands, both large and small. Biddle saw what looked like an entrance to a fjord and headed towards it, even though he could see several large naval vessels and a submarine in the fjord. There was no way the crippled Wellington could make it over the mountains that stretched up and down the coast. Biddle's only option was to fly right over the ships. The submarine dove so quickly the crew could see the foam around it. They all thought of the depth-charges that now lay on the seabed.
As they approached the convoy, Firestone was up front and looked over the skipper's right shoulder. He saw shells exploding to starboard and tracers arcing towards them. He informed Biddle that they were being fired on. Biddle turned, shrugged his shoulders, and said with total indifference: “So what?”
Firestone moved back and shot a flare from the Very pistol [6], hoping that the flare would cause the naval artillery to think that it was a German aircraft. It was a common trick to try to get the enemy to stop shooting, since both sides used flares as identification signals. After he fired, he went forward again to see if there was any reaction. It seemed that the barrage stopped for a few seconds, but then resumed with a crash. Firestone went back and fired another flare [7], but this time it had no effect. On the contrary, it seemed to spur a greater reaction. He plugged in the earphones to hear something from the cockpit, but the intercom did not seem to be working any more.
George Grandy was still sending messages to Group, and was so concentrated on his task that he did not notice the tracer bullet that flew through the floor and out through the plane just inches from his side. The port engine began to lose power and miss, probably hit in the barrage from the convoy. All the crew members held their breath, but then they could hear the engine resume its normal roar and the propeller began to turn at full speed again.
Biddle and Death searched for a place they could put the plane down. They could see where they were heading but the others could not see forward and had to wonder whether they would hit water or land.
They rumbled over several small islands and a small peninsula. The pilots could see more vessels, mostly u-boats, in an inlet, but could not see anything resembling a landing strip – there was no flat ground anywhere. There was nothing but steep mountain slopes. They got a brief glimpse of a glacier to starboard.
Biddle turned the bomber, retracing their course. He had noticed something resembling a stretch of grass on a hill in the peninsula they had passed over and thought that it was their only chance. Biddle ordered everyone to take their emergency landing positions. George Grandy sent one last message that they were going to try to make an emergency landing.
Two of the crew removed the top hatch cover and threw it into the rear of the plane so that they could get out of the plane as quickly as possible when they landed. For the crew in the fuselage, the bomber seemed to climb one moment and dive the next, always veering and rocking from side to side. From his navigator position, Neil saw land, then sky, then water again.
George Grandy held onto the radio set, Maurice Neil clung to a steel plate on the map table, and the copilot took his place behind the door in the cockpit. Ken Graham and Harvey Firestone took their places on the deck behind the main spar. With a firm handshake, they wished each other good luck.
Finally, Biddle saw the open space he had glimpsed earlier, and turned the nose of the plane towards it. He decided to keep the wheels up, because a clean crash-landing was their only hope.
The port engine sputtered again, the propeller turned a few more times, and then stopped still. The reserve tank was empty. The crew could hear the wind against the sides of the aircraft as the sloping hill rushed to meet them.
With hydraulic and wire controls, Biddle was able to maintain some control even without power. As they approached the ground, Biddle maneuvered up and down and side to side, aiming for grassy area while trying to avoid the buildings scattered around the clearing. At the last minute, he managed to just avoid crashing into a house. The Wellington missed the house, but its port wing tore through a row of trees a couple of metres from the house. Then the plane hit the side of the grassy hill with a loud crack and creaking of the fuselage. The heavy aircraft ground along for a few metres and then bounced in the air again. The Wellington then crashed down into the ground for good in a cloud of grass, dirt and mud.