大象传媒

AFTER THE JUMP.
I was in the air for a very short time. I was looking up at the white canopy above when I subsided into a bog. It was very wet and muddy but I could not have had a softer landing. I think I sat on the ground for about a minute, but then the training we had had reasserted itself and I began to think about escape. After all I knew that I must have. landed in Belgium or possibly Holland, both occupied by the Germans and full of people who were likely to help anyone from the RAF. I looked around and could see, not too far away, three large fires clearly from crashed aircraft. I hoped that one of them was that of the fighter that had shot us down. The 21st/22nd June being the shortest night in the year and the time being about 2.30am, it was already beginning to get light in the east; German patrols would obviously be sent out to look for survivors, so it was clearly the right thing to look for a hiding place as quickly as possible.

I spotted a wood in the opposite direction to the crashed aircraft and decided to make for that but first of all I threw my parachute and bright yellow life jacket into a field and then tried to make contact with Archie and Ray who had jumped just before me. I called out, blew a whistle which we all carried but to no avail; then I tried to contact any of the three who might have got out of the rear door but with a similar lack of success.

After ten minutes or so I decided that the only thing to do was go off by myself so r set off for the wood I had spotted previously. I found that I had landed in an intensively farmed area and I was continuously climbing fences and skirting farm buildings to make any headway. Soon I realized that to make any progress, I would have to take a few risks, so I cut through the next farmyard I came to. Here I encountered a woman, possibly the fanner's wife who had come down to check on the livestock, and I am afraid scared the living daylights out off her. I must have been a very disreputable looking object, covered in mud from the bog in which I had landed and bleeding from a cut in the head where I had knocked against the escape hatch. She cried out in alarm and waved me away so I brushed past her and continued on my way.

There was one more farm between myself and the wood so I cut through this farm and on turning a comer ran straight into the fanner himself who was looking at the burning aircraft fires in the distance. He held out his hand and we shook hands warmly.
I had been wondering what I should say when I asked for help so I tried, "Je suis un aviateur anglais, voulez- m 'aider? This clearly was not understood as the reply came in what I took to be dutch. In fact I had landed in the extreme north of Belgium where the majority of the population speak flemish (a dutch dialect). He made signs that I should wait where I was and he jumped on a bicycle and peddled away on a nearby road. I was a bit uncertain what to do; had he gone to fetch the Germans or help?

Shortly after he returned with a friend who spoke French who explained that they were members of a resistance group, "The Mouvement National Beige" and they would do everything they could to keep me out of the clutches of the Bosches. 99.9% of Belgians loathed the Germans who had occupied their country twice, 1914--18 and 1940 onwards.

Civilian clothes were produced, I stripped of my uniform which was spirited away and I was ushered into the farmhouse where to my astonishment the fanner's wife produced a bacon and egg breakfast. The helper who spoke French explained that I could not stay in the farmhouse because the Germans regularly went there to requisition food but I would be guided to a safe house while a plan for my evasion was worked out. I explained about the rest of the crew and was told that scouts would be sent out to look for them.
Later that morning a lady arrived on a bike, I was lent another and was told to follow her 100 yards behind and she would lead me to a garden gate of a small house in the nearby town of Turnout. I was to go in where I would meet my hostess, who spoke only flemish and a young English speaking Belgian who would look after me.

It was an interesting ride, weaving through a column of German troops who looked like recruits on a route march and a multitude of farm vehicles, it being harvest time.

I was received kindly by my hostess. I was the 14th British or American airman whom she had hidden. The courage of the helpers in the resistance movement was beyond praise. If caught, the penalty was death or a concentration camp. My hostess's husband, a regular Belgian NCO was a prisoner of war; he also would have been executed.
The next day I was visited by the local Resistance chief who told me what his team of scouts me had been able to find out. Sadly three members of our crew were dead.

Bill (Pilot) had been found in the wrecked fuselage; He had not had time to bailout and by staying at the controls had given a chance of survival to the those who did. I personally was in the air for a very short time which meant that he would have had very little time to follow me out; It is also possible that the aircraft broke up before hitting the ground owing to the intensity of the fire.
Johnny (Rear Gunner) had been found still in his turret but dead from wounds from the forward firing guns of the attacking fighter.

Frank (Wireless Operator) had been found not far from the wreck still attached to a half open parachute. He had obviously jumped when there was insufficient height left.

The remaining three who like me had bailed out successfully had all been rounded up by patrols and were now on their way to a prisoner of war camp. It was remarkable that although we must all have jumped from the aircraft within seconds of each other (I helped to push Ray through the escape hatch since his harness had caught on the edge), none of us could find each other on the ground and because of this, we all set off in different directions.
Ray(Engineer) landed in a tree from which it took him sometime to get down and then made his way to a village; he was arrested at a tram stop. Archie (Bomb Aimee) and Lloyd (Mid- Upper Gunner) were picked up separately in open country. All three ended up in the cells of a local police station from which they were moved after a few day to an interrogation centre in west Germany. The Germans knew that the navigator was unaccounted for so they were questioned about me but it seemed to be accepted that I had been killed in the crash.

In due course the bodies of Bill, Frank and Johnny were buried side by side in the British Military Cemetery at Antwerp. I visited this after I was demobilized; it is well kept and they rest peacefully among many of their comrades.

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of John Maunsell and has been added to the site with his permission. John Maunsell fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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