The Aviation Historian — January 2018

(lu) #1
116 THE AVIATION HISTORIAN Issue No 22

After the noise of the ditching, the silence
when we came to a halt was almost deafening.
There was about a foot of water and fuel in the
cockpit and without my headset, lost in the
impact, I just shouted for everyone to get out.
I don’t think anyone on board needed telling
twice. We exited through the port overwing
escape hatch and boarded the dinghy on the
wing. Of the two wing-root mounted dinghies,
one had obviously burnt through, but the other
had inflated on impact and was floating, upside
down, about 400yd astern of us. I can honestly
say that I didn’t really get wet. My flying boots
got a little damp and I always feel guilty when
speaking to other members of the Goldfish
Club and hearing of their feats of survival
and endurance in open dinghies in the North
Atlantic in winter.

Salvation
As we pulled away from the still-floating
fuselage, I recall the all-pervading smell of fuel
and praying that a stray spark would not trigger
an explosion. However, the good old waters of
the Moray Firth had put out the fire that we had
been unable to. Within seconds we heard the
‘whoosh-whoosh’ of the approaching rescue
helicopter, and within 10min we were all aboard
and on our way to hospital for the injured — the
scruffs’ bar for the remainder.
As for injuries, I sustained compression
fractures of the spine, as did Andy Lawson, one
of the three safety team. He also sustained a
broken ankle, a broken rib and a chipped pelvis
when the rails holding his seat came apart,
and Andy-plus-seat went spiralling down the

fuselage, finally ending up upside down with his
head below water and trapped by his shoulders.
Fortunately Stu Clay, the smallest member of
the crew and the final member of the safety
team, provided proof of what adrenalin will do
by lifting Andy, plus his seat, out of the hole,
dislocating his thumb in the process. In doing so
he may have set a new British all-comers record
for the straight arm lift!
Dave Rimmer broke a finger and gashed his
hand. Dick Chelu, the navigator, slept though the
whole affair after giving me an initial steer to the
runway threshold and walked away unscathed.
And finally Pat, my copilot, has since had an
operation on his upper neck to repair damage
caused during the ditching but not diagnosed
immediately. With the exception of poor old
Andy, who was eventually medically discharged
from the RAF, we all gradually managed to
return to flying and without exception wore the
distinctive winged-goldfish with pride.
And the hat? I regretfully have to report that
it failed to vacate the aircraft before she sank
and now resides on the bed of the Moray Firth
approximately three miles off Lossiemouth.
Much to my amazement the owner of the hat,
a very junior navigator on one of the Kinloss
squadrons, contacted me shortly afterwards;
after apologising profusely for losing his hat for
him, and despite his protestations, I bought 20
tickets for the Christmas draw in his name.
None of them won a prize!

ABOVE Flight Lieutenant Art Stacey (third from left) receives his Air Force Cross, awarded for acts of courage,
valour or devotion to duty by officers but not in active operations against the enemyvalour or devotion to duty by officers but not in active operations against the enemyvalour or devotion to duty by officers but not in active operations against the enemy. Other crew members also. Other crew members also
received commendations, including Flt Sgt Steve Hart, awarded the Queen’received commendations, including Flt Sgt Steve Hart, awarded the Queen’received commendations, including Flt Sgt Steve Hart, awarded the Queen’s Commendation for Bravery in the Air.s Commendation for Bravery in the Air.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The Editor would like to thank
Vic Flintham and Chris Gibson for their invaluable help
with the preparation of this article

TAH


VIA AUTHOR

Free download pdf