大象传媒

Later in 1940, the Squadron was transferred to Oban on the west coast of Scotland where we continued to escort convoys across the Atlantic, search for and sink U-boats and carry out highly dangerous reconnaissance missions around the Norwegian fjords and the Arctic Circle.

We would meet up with the convoys in the Atlantic and provide air cover as they steamed towards Britain. On one occasion we met the convoy just as a ship was being torpedoed. We dived down to 30 feet off the ocean surface and the port mid-gunner fired his .303 Browning machine gun at the deadly tube. He filled the torpedo with bullets but nothing would deter it from its course; there was no more we could do but to watch helplessly and circle the doomed ship.

I took a series of photographs of the events as they unfolded below. The photographs show the torpedo entering the ship, it slowly sinking, the survivors in the water climbing into their lifeboat and my last photograph shows them in their boat. We then tried to land on the sea and save the crew because we knew that the ships in the convoy would not stop for them; it would just be too dangerous for anyone to stop a ship out there. The sea was fairly choppy and just as our hull touched the water, a huge wave; about 20 feet high, hit our port float and almost ripped it off. We very nearly crashed ourselves and only just got back into the air, but at least we had tried.

Not long after, we were ordered to fly across the North Sea to occupied Norway and locate the German troopships thought to be hiding in Hardangerfjorden. We had flown to the fjords before and so we knew how dangerous it was going to be. We took off very early one morning but just off the Norwegian coast we flew into a really heavy snowstorm which made navigation to Hardangerfjorden difficult. As we got over Haugesund, we ran into very heavy anti-aircraft fire. We took a hit to our starboard mid-fuel tank and the main hull, but despite this damage we pressed on to our objective. As we flew over Garvin we again encountered very severe flak which tried to finish us off by piercing our port side mid-fuel tank and making a mess of our tail plane.

We were now losing fuel at a critical rate; we had to do something about it or else we would crash into the freezing waters of the North Sea, where the average survival time was about 30 seconds. We needed to plug the holes in one of the fuel tanks and we used chewing gum to do it. My friend Flight Sergeant Derrick Buley was the smallest member of the crew and so he crawled deep into the wing cavity to plug the leaking fuel tank holes. I followed Derrick in and lay in the wing between him and the rest of the crew, who madly chewed gum for all their worth to keep us supplied. We could certainly have shown a few of today's football managers how to chew gum in a crisis! More than 400 gallons of high-octane fuel came out of the bilges when we got back to Base. Derrick was awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal for his actions that night.

You can read much more about Ted Cowling's wartime exploits in his fascinating, funny and sometimes desperately tragic autobiography, 'The Journey', proceeds of which will go towards the Severn Hospice.

This story was 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 Ted Cowling and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

See more of Ted's stories:

• 1) How important it is to feel welcome
• 2) Neither darkness nor fighter cover for protection
• 4) A hand picked crew
• 5) I left Oban for the last time
• 6) Winds that cut like a knife
• 7) Top Gun

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