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Library Reference Number: 074

Lost, Found and Lost Again!

Ron Holton, Scottish Saltire Branch, ACA

Photo shows Ron Holton and crew.A forced landing in the desert.In 1942 I found myself as second pilot of a Wellington bomber and en-route to India. Because Germany at that time occupied most of North Africa, and Vichy France had gone over to the enemy - operating out of Casablanca attempting to shoot down our aircraft; and furthermore Franco Spain was hostile to our cause, it was decided that the safest route for our aircraft bound for the Middle East and points east was the long way round, i.e. Gibraltar - Bathurst - Kano - Khartoum - Wadi Haifa - Cairo.

Our troubles began when we were about half-way down the long leg, Gibraltar - Bathurst and flying at about 4,000 feet when, on switching over to our over-load tank both engines stopped dead. Rapidly, switching back to main tanks both engines re-started but ran intermittently and obviously were losing power. At about the same time we noticed that fabric was peeling off the port wing - later we discovered that some corrosive acid had been sprayed over the fabric. Our wireless operator immediately began sending out SOS calls but was getting no replies. He thought that some one had 'got at' his set, but he still persevered. It was evident that we were about to ditch, and as we were flanked on both sides by hostile Franco territory with the Canaries on our right and Spanish Rio-de-Oro (since annexed by Morocco) on our left, capture or death seemed inevitable.

Lost at SeaWe decided that if only we could reach the mainland our chances of escape might be better. Accordingly I turned sharp left (I was flying the aircraft, low level negated our changing over) and I was faced with the prospect of a dicey forced landing. We just managed to clear the top of the cliffs and I thumped her down causing some severe damage to the tail of the aircraft but fortunately no injuries were sustained by the crew. The next three days were spent in clearing the fuel systems of the contaminated fuel and making emergency repairs to the wing. In the meantime the wireless operator kept sending distress signals with a rigged up extended aerial until the batteries were exhausted - no replies were forthcoming.

We had cleared a strip of stones and rocks heading towards the cliffs which were about a hundred feet high with the rather suicidal hope of getting airborne before plunging into the sea. Our plan was to fly as far south as we could before running out of fuel, or in hope of finding a friendly ship near which we could ditch. On the very morning that we had selected for making our get-away, the attempt had to be postponed because a heavy sea-fret or haar had crept in adding to our hazards. As the mist cleared to our astonishment we saw a British destroyer, HMS Laforey, a Lightning Class destroyer, inching her way straight towards our position. At first I thought that the sun had affected me and that it was all an illusion.

HMS LaforeyOf course it was not - it was real enough. Cutting the story short, after destroying our aircraft we spent two days on board the Laforey back to Gibraltar. Every-one on board treated us as honoured guests - even the main-brace was spliced!

After the inevitable court of enquiry, we were sent back to the UK on board a small troopship, the Leinster, and what should escort us on our lonely way but, of all ships, the Laforey - she to be refitted, ourselves to pick up another aircraft and to fly out east for a tour of operations in Burma. We discovered at the court of enquiry that the only vessel that had picked up our faint distress call- was the battleship HMS Nelson, then operating in the South Atlantic. She had relayed our message to the naval base of Simonstown in South Africa which in turn had relayed it to the ship nearest to our position, the Laforey, with instructions to search the coastline for a downed Wellington.

This notice saddened Ron Holton and crew, as the vessel had literally saved their lives.We now fast-forward to a date in 1944. I was now in the middle of another tour but this time in the Mediterranean. My detachment of No 36 Squadron was temporarily based at a small airfield named Montecorvino near Naples and close to Mount Vesuvius which had just started to erupt. A hail of ash and pumice put our airfield out of action and for a time day turned into night. When at last the eruption died down, and the wind changed, Herculanean efforts soon had a runway cleared and our aircraft serviceable again. The first task allotted to my crew was to act as cover over a joint flotilla of naval ships, British and American destroyers and frigates in the sea area north of Stromboli- eleven in total. It was at night, Stromboli was in full eruption and made an awesome sight. We used it as a navigational fix. .Apparently a U-boat had made sinking in the area, and 'Nemesis' was now awaiting it should it attempt to surface as it inevitably had to do. We were there as an insurance policy should the U-boat break through the cordon and head for its base at Marseilles. We were there to pursue it using our radar and Leigh light and sink it with depth charges.

It was a beautifully calm and peaceful night until all hell seemed to break out on the waters below. There came a series of large explosions, tracer fire and more explosions, and then powerful searchlights began sweeping the water, obviously looking for survivors. Soon after this we received a recall signal back to base where Intelligence gave us the story. The U-boat had indeed surfaced but in doing so had discharged its full battery of torpedoes into the hull of the nearest ship which had immediately exploded and sank within minutes taking almost all of its complement with it. The U-boat, whose captain was obviously a very brave man, had suffered a similar fate. Several hundred men had died within minutes that night.

Some days later we heard that the ship that had taken the full force of the torpedoes was none other than our beloved Laforey which had saved our lives some two years before. Her obituary appeared in 'The Union Jack", the Forces newspaper in the Mediterranean theatre.

We felt stunned when we heard the news. This beautiful ship - see the accompanying photograph - and her fine crew had literally saved our lives. They had taken us to their hearts, had shared their rum and meals with us, had entertained us in Gib as only the navy can, and finally had escorted our transport all the way back to the UK. It seemed difficult to believe that now probably all those friendly faces were lying in many fathoms of water. And for us, who owed them so much, it seemed incredible that we alone of all crews should have witnessed their deaths. Since our last meeting the Laforey had sailed over 400,000 miles, and we had flown about an equivalent amount in the Far East and the Med, only to come together at the last tragic moment.

All this is an extract from my book "A Desire for Wings" written at the behest of my three children whilst I was awaiting a heart operation some years ago. Although completed, I had never before sought publication.

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