A few years ago I was asked if I'd be interested in taking an ex-Lancaster pilot up in the PA28 for his 90th Birthday, and naturally, after establishing that he would be fit enough, I was delighted to oblige.
I called up the head of the BBMF at Conningsby, (who's name, much to my shame, has escaped me) and asked if it would be possible to re-unite the chap (Mac Morrell was his name) with the Lancaster. They took my number and said they'd call me back.
About a month later, I was in California for some cheap Mooney time, when I was woken at 2AM by my mobile.
It was Sdn Leader (shameonmeagian), who explained to me that Mr. Morrell was in fact a holder of the DFC, and duly read out his citation.
After this recital we both had moisture in our eyes, and it was agreed that I could indeed fly Mac up to Conningsby, and that the RAF would "sponsor" the visit. This meant a considerable reduction in the usually large landing fee at an active RAF station.
A day was set and the weather closed in.
Another day was set and this time there were no interventions from any Supreme Beings.
Mac, complete with handle-bar moustache, and his step-son Chris duly arrived at Denham and off we set.
I put Mac in the RH seat and gave hime the chart, duly marked with our intended course, and I was amazed at how easily he was able to follow our progress, all the while regailing us with tails of exploits at the now dis-used airfields that we passed.
"Oh, yes that's EGXX, I've crash landed there you know!"
Conningsby were expecting us, and I freely admit that I, with all of 81hrs P1 in my log book, had to make considerable efforts to avoid the necessity of having to make an in flight recalculation of my weight and balance figures!
By some miracle, a smooth landing ensued, and we were given instructions by the very friendly ATC to continue on past the row of Eurofighters and park on the Apron where the (uniformed) marshall, chocks in hand, was waiting for us!
We were greeted with the very unfamiliar salutation of "Sir" and escorted to the BBMF office.
Here's where the story really starts!
Mac's original squadron book was laid out on the table, opened at the page containing the mission which had lead to his decoration.
Mac read through it and recalled all of the friends that he had known and who had not been fortunate enough to survive.
There was one name that Mac particularly remembered, as he had been best man at the chap's wedding just a week before he was lost.
Sdn. Leader Shameonmeagain, who's help and kindness cannot be understated, then showed us into the hallowed halls of the BBMF hangar, where we were greeted by the ever-so-slightly impressive sight of the Lancaster, standing proudly and majestically on guard over her family of Spitfires, Hurricanes, Chipmunks and the C47.
As we approached the Lanc. Mac noticed a member of the ground crew going about his business under the STBD wing, and made point of going up and shaking his hand, thanking him for his work! It seems that this was a habit Mac got into during his war years.
The inside of the Lancaster is not unlike what I imagine the inside of a submarine to be like! It is very cramped and congested, with access to the cockpit being gained by climbing over the small space between the roof and the main spar, a feat which Mac accomplished with practiced ease, despite his age.
Words, imbeciles that they are, cannot begin to convey the emotions experienced as I sat in the pilots seat and Mac told us the story of how he was awared the DFC.
Sadly, our time to leave was soom upon us, and we reluctantly departed back for Denham.
Your writer has never felt so humble as at this time!
As an aside; the service we got en-route back from Conningsby seemed a lot more friendly than on the way up, with Luton volunteering us a route via the overhead! I accepted, made a complete balls up of it and was duly given a severe rollicking! I guess that since we'd departed from Coningsby they'd expected more of me!
One of the things that struck me most about Mac was his manners.
There was I, a humble and lowly PPL, doing what anyone of us would gladly pay to do, and he just wouldn't stop thanking me.
As I shook his hand at Denham, I was acutely aware that I might never see this man again, and found it very difficult to take.
My thanks go to the BBMF for receiving us, to Chris for asking me in the first place, and most of all Mac, for, well, everything.
My apologies are extended to Sqn Leader shameonmeagain, without whom it could not have happened.
Epilogue:
Sadly, Mac died two years later.
I'd love to be able to say that he died peacefully in his sleep, but regrettably his last days were marred by very poor treatement at an NHS hospital, where the staff were obviously ignorant of the sacrifices that Mac had made.