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Library Reference Number: 099

Searchlights

Bill Hall, DFC, Pilot, 149 Squadron, RAF.

The feeling of utter helplessness when trapped in searchlight `cones' was one of the most disruptive hazards suffered by many bomber crews. Bill Hall, DFC, gives a first-hand account of such a horrific experience.

"On the night of 19th March 1941, I was the captain of Wellington R1159 of 149 Squadron stationed at Mildenhall, Suffolk. The target for that night was Cologne and the take off time was 1930 hours. As we approached the target we were picked up by several German searchlights which concentrated on us to form a cone. The glare was overwhelming and it was almost impossible to see to fly and bomb. The crumps of exploding anti-aircraft shells started to be felt in the aircraft and, as there was also the possibility of being attacked by night fighters, the only solution was to take evasive action.

As we had been starting our run up to the target 1 pushed the nose down to try to dive away from the coning but was firmly held. The bombs were then released. I had then to carry out some hectic manoeuvres and eventually managed to evade the lights and the anti-aircraft shells. We had strayed some distance away from the target area and my observer (navigator), P/O Platt, had difficulty in fixing our position as it had been impossible to record the courses which we had been flying because of the evasive action. As far as we could ascertain we had not been damaged but, shortly after, my wireless operator, Sgt Anderson, announced that the wireless was not functioning and he was trying to find out what was wrong.

We set a course for Mildenhall hoping to get a sighting of land somewhere to establish a 'pinpoint' i.e. a point of reference. Unfortunately the visibility had deteriorated and we could not get one when we calculated that we must be crossing over from land to the North Sea. We droned on but got no sight of land when we estimated, by dead reckoning, that we had reached the English coast. When we had been nearly six hours in the air we concluded that we were in the East Anglia area. As Sgt Anderson was having no success with the wireless we were unable to get a bearing or contact the ground control. We were really in trouble as we had no visibility because of widespread mist or fog. The petrol gauges were no longer registering.

I then instructed the IFF (Identification, Friend or Foe) apparatus to be set to position 3, which would indicate to the radar operators on the ground that we were a friendly aeroplane in distress. Shortly after, and in accordance with procedures, we saw that searchlights had been switched on pointing along the ground to the nearest aerodrome. They appeared, however, as a blur through the mist or fog. Nevertheless I decided to come lower to see if I could pinpoint the aerodrome. As I thought we were over the flat country of Norfolk, it seemed safe to come lower gradually. Nevertheless, as we had no wireless contact I could not get a QDF which would enable me to get a barometric reading by which I could set my altimeter to obtain the correct height.

As we came down there was an almighty crash on the starboard side. We struck the ground and slid for what seemed forever. We suddenly came to a stop with the starboard wing on fire. I found myself trapped by the control column pinning me down across the chest, but I managed to reach up and open the escape hatch above my head The crew came up quickly to the hatch and stepped on me as they got out. I do not recall how I got out from under the control column, but I did. When I got my head out of the hatch I heard shouts that the front gunner, Sgt Baton, was still in his turret. I had to go down from the pilot's position and found that earth had come up through the entrance hatch at the bottom of the Wellington and was partially blocking my way. I was able to scrape enough away to release the turret door. I opened the door and the gunner started to appear. By this time the plane was well alight and I beat a hasty retreat out of the plane followed by Sgt Baton.

By that time ammunition was exploding with the heat and the crew had to move well back. We were then approached by figures with rifles pointing at us. They were the Home Guard. Once they established that we were RAF they were very helpful. The second pilot, Sgt German, had injured his back and was put on a farm gate used as a stretcher. We were taken to a farmhouse but my memory of what happened fades at this point. No doubt I was suffering from shock. I think we stayed there for some time until transport arrived from Mildenhall and took us back. Apart from Sgt German's back and my bruised chest, neither of which turned out to be serious, all the crew were unhurt. I was told later, that we had struck a tree at the top of one of the few higher pieces of ground in Norfolk. It was also confirmed that, due to changes in barometric pressure from the time we left Mildenhall and our being unable to get any information about it, the altimeter would have been misleading.

It is only now (March 1994) that I realise that the searchlights were probably pointing to Swanton Morley, an aerodrome which is only two miles from the crash site. Also that we were only thirty odd miles north east of Mildenhall where we had actually taken off earlier that eventful night."

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