Wellington Bomber Crash, Portreath
My Dad was part of this crew, below a copy from his diary.May 10th 1942
To Malta, Gibraltar
This morning our Crew set off for our trip overseas. We had barely travelled one hundred miles, when our boost on the port motor went ropey; our intercom was pretty poor, being full of noise and squeals. This was on account of the wet weather we had been through. It was raining heavily when we commenced the trip, and the cloud was very low. This weather gave way to fog and for the first fifty miles or so, we flew along at between fifty and a hundred feet above the water. We could only glimpse the water now and again, when the fog thinned out in patches. It was to me in the front turret, like standing on the bow of a ship, and watching the water race by.
Our height was demonstrated to me rather startlingly when through a break in the fog, I saw a lighthouse fly by, about 100yards to the port and I did not have to look down on it. It was not until later, when we had left the soupy weather behind us, and were flying at above fifteen hundred feet in the sparkling sunshine, that our motor became ropy and when our Captain decided to turn back it was heart breaking, but necessary.
On arriving back at the aerodrome, the weather was even worse than when we started out. Visibility was extremely poor. Our intercom by this time was useless, and when I saw the drome come into view, I clambered from the front turret, and stood behind the second pilot, and leaned against the framework.
We made a circuit. It had to be low. We had to make a run in from the seaward side, and the cliffs looked dangerously close. We were heavily loaded, but we had faith in our Captain who was an excellent pilot.
Lower and lower we came, and it seemed as though we were sinking too fast to make the edge of the runway. The throttles were opened wide, and the engines roared convincingly. But that sinking feeling was still amazingly noticeable. I could see the Captain fighting with the controls. The second pilot who was standing beside him seemed anxious to try and do something to help .The cliffs; about two hundred feet high were sickeningly close, and with our nose slightly up in the air, the engines racing, we were still sinking. A down-draught!
And the engines were not giving their full power. I stood there wondering.
We just crept over the cliffs and a stone wall loomed up. I thought we would just make it, when I heard a loud crack, the plane shuddered and the second pilot like a stone from a catapult, shot feet first into the bomb aimers compartment, and came to a stop under the first turret.
The nose tilted slightly more downward, and the crash came. I was flung to the floor and heard the grinding and smashing of the structure beneath me. Then just as suddenly we were stopped with a jerk
I was in no way hurt, and looked around puzzled.
I saw the second pilot rise and knew he was ok. I turned towards the rear of the Kite to make my way out of the astro-dome. The navigator was already fighting with the quick release of the dome, and the wireless operator was frantically trying to release the fire extinguisher.
The smoke and fumes of the now burning engines were filling the fuselage and we knew too well that the overload tank right beneath us held about three hundred gallons of high grade gas.
The wireless operator could not free the extinguisher, and knowing I was behind him, he moved on to the astro, so that I could get out more quickly. My parachute harness became entangled in the navigators chair, and as I used the inevitable exclamation, I used the quick release button and stepped smartly from the entangled harness. It did not take me long to get out. As a matter of fact I was the last out, and it could not have taken me more than a minute and a half; if that
There were people running from all directions. On my way round the back of the Kite I noticed that the rear gunner was out, and I trotted as best my flying gear would allow; away from the wreak.,
The Navigator, a young Canadian was looking back at the plane. There was a tragic expression on his face and a hint of tears, as he moaned What about all our gear! Couldnt you get the fire extinguisher? Well the small extinguisher would not have been much use, as both engines were burning, and any minute the whole damn thing might explode. Usually the buggars go poof the instant they crack up. But his mournful words made me remember that all our equipment was packed in that Kite. All our most treasured personal gear, photographs, letters, souvenirs and clothing. It was a shock! The fire engine arrived and was useless. The ambulance arrived soon afterwards. Then I saw a great tongue of flame leap from the port wing. It caught the fabric on the fuselage and then things began to happen. The ammunition began to explode and a general evacuation from the near vicinity began. Looking back, it has its funny side. There was a general scramble through fences, among the gorse and over the hill.
Then we were taken into a dispersal hut where the two pilots were given first aid. From there, I heard the tanks explode It must have been barely three or four minutes before the Kite was completely Komati.
The two pilots were admitted to hospital, and the rest of us were given a couple of days off.
Wellington HF 829 'C' Connie
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The six members of the crew were;
Sgt. S.E. Alcock (English) Pilot
Sgt. W. Robinson (NZ) second pilot
Sgt. C. Hill (Canada) navigator
Sgt. S.Pratt (NZ) bomb-aimer/rear gunner
Sgt. J.A, Peacock (English) Front gunner
Sgt. A.J. Fyfe (NZ) wireless operator
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