To return to the OP’s question, here is a Wellington engine failure story. Nothing spectacular, but it illustrates the routine hazards (quite apart from enemy action) faced by aircrew in World War Two.
Like so many of his generation my father, Bill Setterfield, would not talk about his wartime experiences. The following comes in part from his logbook, and more from the diary kept by his co-pilot, New Zealander Cecil Rainey, part of which by a remarkable coincidence came my way in 2004.
On 12 July 1942 my father, newly qualified to fly the Wellington 1c and with a grand total of 265 hours in his logbook, took off from Portreath in Cornwall to deliver himself, Wellington HX487 and crew to 40 Squadron in Egypt, via Gibraltar and Malta. They reached Malta without incident, but for reasons unstated the aircraft remained on the island while my father and crew went on to Egypt as passengers in a DC3.
At this period 40 Squadron operated from various landing grounds in Egypt. Targets in my father’s logbook for July- November 1942 include Tobruk, Bardia, “Western Desert”, Mersa Matruh, “Enemy Transport”, “Enemy Concentrations”, “Shipping outside Tobruk”, “Tobruk – Minelaying”. Most of the squadron’s aircraft were well-worn and engine failures were frequent, with desert dust and sand no doubt a factor. “Returned – engine trouble” appears twice in my father’s logbook.
In early November 1942 six Wellingtons of 40 Sqn were detached to Malta, to operate from Luqa in support of Operation Torch, the invasion of North Africa which began on 8 November. My father and crew flew a sortie from Luqa on 8 November to bomb the airfield at Almas, Sardinia. They were tasked to attack the same target again on 10 November, this being my father’s 32nd operation. Their aircraft was Wellington 1c R1182. They found searchlights and some flak over the target but nothing too threatening. The rear gunner reported seeing their stick of bombs fall among parked aircraft.
About an hour into the return trip, on course for Malta, the starboard engine began to surge with increasing frequency. At 6000 feet, after a routine oil transfer to both engines, the same engine began to miss and bang, sending out sparks and flames. Before long it seized solid. [My understanding, but others may know better, is that the Wellington 1c with Pegasus XVIII engines had non-feathering propellors.] The co-pilot went back to help the rear gunner from his turret, and they set about jettisoning all moveable objects. From Cecil Rainey’s diary:
“Everything possible went out via the flare chute: flares, flame floats, surplus oil tins, incendiaries, everything loose. Even with full revs and full boost on the port motor she would not maintain height, and no wonder, for the starboard engine had seized up so tight that the prop was not turning. Aggy was working overtime on the set, getting QDMs and sending the SOS. The Malta searchlights came in sight but we were losing height too fast, so we did our drill – removed the astro hatch, pulled the floatation, removed parachute harnesses and prepared for the worst.
"To say the least, we hit the drink with a smack (75 mph) and pulled up in a very short distance. All the lights went out, but Church was out of the astro hatch like a shot and yelling that the dinghy was nowhere to be seen. I was hanging onto the dinghy rations with my left hand but managed to find the release with my right hand - immediately the dinghy burst forth from the starboard nacelle. The water was rising rapidly and Paddy had gone out, but somehow I had caught the sextant steadier over my shoulder and with the water up to my chest couldn't get away from it. Finally I let the rations go, freed myself and managed to get out."
So: my father's war-weary Wellington 1c was unable to maintain height on one engine. If there is any interest in the short sequel to this story, ie from dinghy to rescue, I will happily post more.
Good health to us all in the year ahead.
Last edited by KJ994; 27th Dec 2019 at 11:32.
Reason: paragraphs