- Contributed by听
- Harry Hargreaves
- People in story:听
- Harry Hargreaves
- Location of story:听
- The English Channel
- Background to story:听
- Royal Navy
- Article ID:听
- A1363231
- Contributed on:听
- 16 October 2003
I was in a Destroyer escorting a convoy.
It was early in January of 1941, the 8th I think it was, when, in the Channel, just beyond the Thames estuary the lookout reported aircraft. I turned and the aircraft was over the land but coming towards us in a slow side slipping motion. The aircraft was painted sky blue underneath, which indicated it belonged to ferry command who delivered repaired aircraft to the different air bases.
I watched the aircraft circling and getting ever lower and it was clear the Pilot was in deep trouble as the engines kept cutting out and reviving. Suddenly the Pilot made up his mind and put the aircraft down on the sea between us and another small escort vessel, the 鈥淗aslemere鈥. It hit the sea like a pancake and skidded along a little way then began to sink. The door on the starboard side opened and I caught a clear view of the pilot dressed in what appeared to be black leather. The Pilot jumped and the aircraft sank creating turbulence so I could not see what had happened to the pilot.
The Haslemere was quite close and a man dived over the side with a rope tied around his waist. It was impossible to make out the details of what was happening until we saw members of the crew of the Haslemere pulling their crewmember back onboard. It was the Captain who had dived and unfortunately he was dead when they brought him back in. It may have been the frigid water or some other cause but he died in his attempt to save the pilot.
There was very little wreckage, and what there was, had been scooped up by the escort vessel. They had launched a whaler and it came alongside with the material it had rescued. As the senior officer of the escort I suppose they felt it was the duty of our Captain to examine the material and make the necessary report. The most puzzling item was a ladies handbag that was opened first. The contents were completely dry and he laid them out on the hooded table. There was all the usual things a woman would carry in her bag, keys, lipsticks etc. He opened the wallet and I heard him gasp quite audibly. He turned to the curious onlookers, myself included, and said: 鈥淚t was Amy Johnson.鈥
You may not have heard of Amy Johnson but in Britain her name and fame were as well known as Amelia Earhart. Her exploits had brought her not only fame but also a great affection from the people of Britain. Songs were written about her, in fact at school we had had an Amy Johnson day when she had once again achieved a notable flying feat. It was like hearing of the death of an old friend and we were all devastated
The Captain called me over and dictated a message to Admiralty so I had the tragically and unforgettable duty of notifying Britain of the loss of one of it鈥檚 most famous and loved daughters. She was working for Ferry command like many other women pilots and was on her way to deliver the aircraft to an air station. No one ever determined what went wrong with the aircraft and her body was never recovered. I had been writing poetry for a long time. This was a hobby I pursued whenever we had a quiet moment. That afternoon as we resumed our station on the convoy, I scribbled on a signal pad the following: -
AMY JOHNSON
When the last all clear is sounded over
these ravaged lands, and the victory parades
follow the sound of marching bands,
You will not be there.
You will be lying here asleep, in England鈥檚
all protecting keep, and the ever moving
waves will wash gently o鈥檈r your grave.
In such honourable company.
In the years that follow, on each Remembrance Day,
the mourning multitudes will stand silently to pray,
The plaintive notes of the last post will
echo through the land, and the waves will
sound your threnody over the golden sand.
Then you will be there.
For some reason, after the war, several authors writing about the war mentioned the 鈥淢ysterious death鈥 of Amy Johnson. I have read that she bailed out with two others that she was carrying on a secret mission. I have read that she was shot down in France after a clandestine trip to assist the French underground. These stories and others have been printed, and, I expect, have been believed by people. I have no idea why this distortion of facts occurs. I have read several, so called, authoritative accounts by historians on incidents that occurred while I was there that bear absolutely no relation to the actual facts.
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