大象传媒

As a boy I would go with the binder and sit on the Fordson tractor armed with a large stick which I would use to kill rabbits when they broke cover from the mown wheat. Rabbits in 1943 were a prized commodity and would help supplement the meat rationing.
Don Webb drove this chugging beast which today would make a Health and Safety officer faint with its unguarded drive-wheels and spinning-belts! On the equally unguarded binder was Walter Granger.
All of a sudden there was a loud thud, and skimming over the tree-line appeared a Liberator Bomber. This huge American aircraft was smashing through the tree-tops and heading straight towards us!
Knocking the Fordson out of gear Don yelled 鈥淕et down!鈥� We didn鈥檛 need telling twice as the bomber flew right over casting us in its dark shadow as it soared only a few feet above our heads. Then it hit the ground and slid on the harvest field its propellers bent back by the force of the crash landing . Suddenly it span round and this huge monster of aluminium and steel stood still. From its belly appeared men in khaki over-suits and fur-lined caps and they raced off towards the ditch on the edge of a wood. Staying close to the wheel of the tractor we prayed that the plane would not explode. Then after what seemed an eternity the window of the cockpit flew open and a head appeared wearing a captain鈥檚 flight cap. 鈥淚t鈥檚 ok Guys!鈥� he yelled and the air crew began to make their way back to the downed Liberator.
It turns out the thud we had heard had been the plane losing its under-carriage when it hit the Brinkley Road. The force of this bounced the Liberator back into the air and sent her through the trees. The young crew were smiling and joking with each other. No doubt they were pleased to have survived the incident! They came over to Don, Walter and myself and asked where they had landed. I turned to Don and spurted out in excitement 鈥淚鈥檓 gonna tell me mum!鈥� and with that I sped off like a hare across the field.
I soon was on the road and got as far as the Vicarage when I saw coming towards me a colossal American truck. The truck stopped and the first black man I had ever seen sat at the wheel. 鈥淗ey, son...You know where a plane has come down?鈥� he asked in a broad American accent. I told him I knew where it was and was quickly hoisted into the open cab of the truck to guide them to the field which the Liberator had crash landed in.
Pushing the truck into gear the American drove this monster off the road and right up a bank. He was taking a short-cut across the fields. We reached a ditch and the huge truck went over it as if it was not there. We were now at the crash site.
A crowd of villagers had gathered and the local bobbie was holding them back from going any nearer to the crashed plane. I of course was part of this drama and stood with the Americans looking at the Liberator which was named Fearless Fosdyke. It did not take long for more American vehicles to turn up and the aircrew was loaded onto bus and taken back to there base to tell their war stories.
A bell-tent was erected and two American soldiers stood guard awaiting the recovery crew who would dismantle the bomber and take it back to the air-field. Before these load-loaders turned up some chums and I were able to go into the aircraft and play in the gun turrets and cockpit. You can imagine how thrilled we were to be able to do this. On reflection Don, Walter and myself were lucky men. Had the Liberator been any lower she would have crashed into the tractor and the outcome would have been very different for all involved!

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.