That Was A Long Time Ago by the late John Eggert aka ‘Shorty’ 192 Squadron, Foulsham
Some years ago, with my family, I was on a motoring holiday in Norfolk. Acting on impulse, I deviated from the intended route to pull up outside a farmhouse on the outskirts of Great Ryburgh. I rang the doorbell and, when the lady of the house opened the door, I introduced myself. The response was a blank look. I continued: “When you last saw me I was running down the hill at the rear of your house”. “Were you in the Halifax bomber that crash landed on our land?” the lady enquired. Yes, I certainly was. I was the Flight Engineer. The other crew members were Australian.
Suddenly the years rolled back and it all happened again.
We were normally engaged on night operations from our base at Foulsham, but this trip was different. It was to be a daylight raid, our first and, for me, the last. The target was Munster. Take-off was scheduled for 14.00 hours on 18th November 1944. It was a beautiful day, but it started badly. Our usual aircraft (U for Uncle) proved unserviceable, so we transferred to another Halifax (V for Victor). This was usually flown by our Squadron Leader, who happened to be on Leave at the time. It was rather unusual, as it was rigged up with special equipment that jammed the wavelengths the Buzz-Bombs operated on, causing them to crash into the sea.
We commenced the take-off at the planned time, the Bomb-aimer acting as Co-Pilot. He had two prime duties during take-off. His left hand was placed behind the throttle levers and, as the Pilot opened them up, his hand followed behind until take-off speed was reached. The Pilot then removed his hand, leaving the Co-Pilot to push the throttle levers fully forward to obtain maximum power. His other job was to watch the four engine rev counters. He had to watch for a tell-tale flick of a temporary drop in revs. This would signify a sudden failure of power on an engine. After a failure, the engine revs would pick up to the original speed as the propeller 'windmilled'. It was important to spot this flick so the correct engine could be 'feathered' (stopped). This had to be done without delay otherwise a tremendous drag effect would be caused.
Sure enough, we had an engine failure on the starboard side, just as take-off speed was reached. The Pilot knew on which side the failure was, but not which engine. Unfortunately the Co-Pilot had not been watching as closely as he should and, as the Pilot shouted ‘Engine failure on starboard side, which one?’ he noticed the Starboard Inner engine was not giving the normal full power take-off revs of 2800. Normally this was nothing to worry about. ‘Starboard Inner’ he reported incorrectly, and shut it down. So there we were, about twenty feet off the ground, with one engine 'feathered' (stopped) and the other, on the same side not giving any power at all, but windmilling and causing drag. The skipper realised he couldn’t gain height, nor dare he attempt to turn the aircraft to land, as it would have spun into the ground. Just to cheer us up, I realised that as well as full fuel tanks in the wings we also had three long range tanks in the bomb bay just under my feet. The order came over the intercom ‘Crash - Crash – Crash’. This was the order we dreaded, and the signal for all except the Pilot to leave their normal positions and proceed without delay to Crash Positions in the strongest part of the aircraft, rear of the rear spar. The escape hatches opened, we took up our positions on the floor of the aircraft and awaited results.
We travelled about six miles in a straight line, and lobbed into the first open space that turned up. This happened to be a field planted with turnips. Our Pilot's name was Field, so you can guess what his nickname was from then on! The aircraft roared up a hill, over the top, and stopped halfway down the other slope. As we slowed down to a stop the starboard wing broke off and caught fire. For some never explained reason the bomb doors had been ripped open, the long range tanks torn out, and the bomb doors closed again. The rear entrance/escape hatch burst open and the bottom edge acted as a scythe. As the aircraft slewed round, it chopped up about half a ton of turnips. They piled up in the rear of the plane, about two feet deep. Needless to say
we all shot out of the top escape hatches without delay. We ran downhill to the farm where the skipper telephoned our base. Fire engines arrived and the fire was extinguished. This was not accomplished without humour as three thousand gallons of hundred octane fuel ran down the hill, setting fire to the firemen's hoses with which they were attempting to put out the fire.
Later in the day it occurred to me how very lucky I had been. Many, many times we had practiced the crash landing procedure in an aircraft on the ground. My position was rear of the rear spar, hard up against the starboard side of the aircraft. However, when I arrived at my position on this particular day I found the Mid-Upper Gunner occupying it. I didn't argue, but sat next to him. When the wing broke off, the rear of it lanced through the fuselage just below the gunner's feet. As he was considerably less than my six feet three inches, his act probably saved my feet being chopped off. He had never sat in my place before, and still cannot think why he did on this occasion. This was the farmhouse my family and I had called at – I remembered it well!
John Eggert aka Shorty, Flight Sergeant (2202199)
192 Squadron – 100 Group (Special Duties)
Passed away at Oadby, Lancs, on 28th April 2006. Most of his life spent in Sunderland.
Flight Engineers of 192 Squadron - Foulsham
F/Lt Howard DFC – Officer in charge is 3rd from the right, front row
F/Sgt Eggert – extreme left in rear row
This article is from the Autumn 2012 issue of Confound and Destroy
