大象传媒

One of the most common duties of the Marine Craft Section was 'SBF' - Stand By Flying. The marine craft allocated for this specific purpose could be a seaplane tender, pinnace, fire tender, or even a humble but very versatile dinghy, being required to stand by while the aircraft landing or taking off was either safely down or safely airborne.
It was this duty I was engaged in one day in 1944, as he coxswain of a G.P, pinnace, I was watching a Sunderland begin to taxi from her mooring buoy prior to take off.
I steered a parallel course further inshore as the pilot began to open his throttles and increase speed. The aircraft had almost reached take-off speed when it began porpoising - i.e., becoming airborne for a short distance before hitting the surface again, and again and again. Normally, when this happened, the pilot would reduce his speed until the aircraft recovers its stability before another attempt to take off. This time, however, the pilot must have thought that he had sufficient speed to get airborne - but he was wrong. Following one heavy smack into the surface of the water, the Sunderland stuck its nose into the unyielding surface and crashed.
As I began to make for the crashed aircraft, I radioed the Control Room on the pier to let them know what had happened so that the appropriate action could be taken. The radio code names are still fresh in my memory:
'Rhymster' - the Control Room.
'Transform Mary' - the Sunderland aircraft.
'Quackduck Baker' - the Pinnace.
(The last name having been thought up by some humorist at SHQ!)
Only minutes after the crash we began picking up the survivors, consisting of the entire crew, including one poor chap who had been standing between the two pilots. He had crashed through the perspex window, removing a large area of his scalp in the process.
By the time I got back to the pier, an ambulance was waiting and the crew were transferred as quickly as possible to the Station Hospital.
I returned to the scene of the crash, taking with me the Wing Commander Flying, who wanted to see the state of the Sunderland, which by then had sunk to just below the surface. The aircraft was 'armed' - i.e., was carrying four depth charges and flares, so the depth to which the aircraft sank became important. The depth charges were primed to explode at a given depth. (I believe between 10 and 25 fathoms.)
The Wing Commander returned to the pier, whilst another pinnace helped me to get a line on the outer engines of the aircraft to pull it into the entrance to a small lagoon, called 'Penar Gut' where it had to wait for a salvage crew. The water was quite shallow there, thank goodness.
I had to attend the subsequent investigation to give evidence as a witness to the crash, but was never told the outcome. I'm not sure, but I think the Sunderland belonged to 228 Squadron. I have no hesitation in saying that, having got to know some of the crews, they were the bravest of the brave, and I consider myself privileged to have known them and to have called some of them my friends...

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