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15 October 2014
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Lo and behold, it was a Wellington Bomber that had crashed!

by Genevieve

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Archive List > Childhood and Evacuation

Contributed by听
Genevieve
People in story:听
Maud Massey
Location of story:听
Clee St Margaret, Shropshire
Background to story:听
Civilian
Article ID:听
A7562919
Contributed on:听
06 December 2005

It was November the 24th and I was 21 years old and living in Clee St Margaret.

The day began very, very wet and misty. I was asked to collect the ponies by my Father and Mother from off the common 鈥 The common is more of a separation really - one part was called Clee Liberty, and the other called Clee St Margaret.

Back in the 1940鈥檚 the common was running as one 鈥 there were no fences. They could come away from over the Ditton Priors area right over and it was quite a labour to get some ponies that gotten over on the wrong side.

There was especially a black pony that belonged to my Mother and Father that they wanted getting down because it needed to go to a doctor. I had a difficulty getting him because it had fallen with rain and it was foggy and I couldn鈥檛 always see where I was going.

It became later on in the day 鈥 about dinner time and I鈥檇 been on the common since about 11 o鈥檆lock that morning and I still couldn鈥檛 drive them over to the street was I was supposed to- I struggled and struggled but they still couldn鈥檛 get them over, try as I would it didn鈥檛 work. I gave in to that idea and brought them down in to a little hamlet called Cockshutt Ford. I decided to drive them along the road as they were all tired. I didn鈥檛 arrive back home until about half four in the afternoon, and as it was during November we didn鈥檛 have much light.

When Father met me with the ponies that I鈥檇 been chasing all day said 鈥渄id you see anything of an aeroplane on the common when you were there?鈥 I said 鈥淣o, I never. It was windy as well as very foggy, I never heard anything.鈥 鈥淲ell鈥, he replied. 鈥淭here鈥檚 supposed to have been an aeroplane come down over there you鈥檒l have to go back and have a look please? You can go back now if you like.鈥 I said 鈥淚 will after I鈥檝e had a refreshment鈥, so I had a drink but he was a bit distressed about the plane as he thought someone might need help, so I didn鈥檛 waste any time, I went straight back taking Tommy the cob with me.

Tommy didn鈥檛 want to go, he was quite adamant as he鈥檇 been running all day long, which was understandable. However, we did manage to go up, but it had become dark by the time we got on to the top. It would have been easier to go through the bogs but he was heavy and if I鈥檇 have got him in there I wouldn鈥檛 have been able to get him out again very well, so I went home back down home and I told Dad 鈥淚 can see nothing, I went up the paths where the sheep go but I couldn鈥檛 see anything, nor smell anything.鈥 You鈥檇 have thought I鈥檇 have smelled something, or the horse would. Father said 鈥淲ell, we鈥檒l take a walk back up later you and me, with some torches.鈥

We did, but we couldn鈥檛 get any help. He rang the Home Guard but he felt the same as they did 鈥 it was a bit of a risk as they didn鈥檛 know the area, they鈥檇 just joined as part of their duty. He said 鈥淲e鈥檒l just go by ourselves鈥. So we did. But oh dear, our light blew out. We only had one of these hurricane lamps and a torch. The torch was the only one surviving so we had to abort our journey and come back home. He said 鈥淵ou鈥檒l have to go up in the morning, as soon as day breaks鈥 (that would have been about half past five, six o鈥 clock).

In the morning, I got up and followed the wall which Father had showed me, it was the wall on the left hand side of the meadow 鈥 and I went up on to the top of the old quarry (where the radio station is now). He said once you get up there and look down you鈥檒l soon see if there鈥檚 anything wrong. So sure I did.

Lo, I looked around and I saw this big object, it looked like a crash of some sort 鈥 a plane or something that hadn鈥檛 been there before. I quickly ran down the tracks that the sheep make- down towards this object I could see and lo and behold it was a Wellington Bomber that had crashed!

It had come down from the direction of Ashfield on an angle over an old Well 鈥 it鈥檚 still on the Common, it鈥檚 called Elsie鈥檚 well. It had caught the fence which divided the meadows. I came quietly past the plane; I gave the plane a fair distance because in those days you had to be careful you didn鈥檛 know whether there was any left over shells or bombs they鈥檇 been carrying.

I went pretty cautiously along the tracks where it had crashed into the fence and I came across one gentleman, poor man, he was face-down in a pit and I could see blood in the water where the rushes were growing. It was very sad; I knew I was too late to help him.

Further on there was a man with his arm up. He鈥檇 got his arm reared up with his watch on and I quickly sped along thinking probably he was alive. I got hold of his arm and it was stiff and cold, the watch was on his arm but I left it there. The watch had stopped though, the time read twenty minutes past four.

I carried on around the plane and I could see a man underneath the one wing. He鈥檇 been sheltered, I think, as he鈥檇 been there all through the night and it was wet and cold. I thought 鈥榯hat was a good thing, you know鈥. I quickly pulled off an old top I had on and put it under his head. He was unconscious, but he wasn鈥檛 absolutely out 鈥 he could tell someone was with him and he gave a little moan. I said 鈥淚鈥檒l be back; I鈥檓 going to go and get you some help. Don鈥檛 worry鈥. I ran off 鈥 right the way down on to a flat bit of the land, and Father was down on the road - I called and called, and waved and it wasn鈥檛 long 鈥榯il he and Tom Price heard me and came up and brought a flask of tea (with whisky in it) to give the gentleman a drink.

We gave him little sips so as not to choke him but to warm him a bit; I remember we were very careful. Meanwhile Father went to get help from other areas 鈥 the air force and what have you, and it wasn鈥檛 long before we were surrounded by many, many people. Eventually the gentleman was brought down carefully on a stretcher.

That gentleman鈥檚 name was Linley James, and the one with his arm raised was called Harold Jessop. Harold鈥檚 family have been to seen me since and thank me for what I did to try and help him, which was very, very nice. I鈥檝e never seen Linley James again. I鈥檇 love to see him one day if I can.

This story was collected by Elaine Muir and submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Becky Barugh of the 大象传媒 Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Maud Massey. The story has been added to the site with Maud's permission and she fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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