With the starboard engine on fire, the wireless unresponsive, one weapon jammed and the entire aircraft shaking violently, pilot David Hornell pressed his Canso 9754 ‘P’ into the attack. Below at a distance of 1,500ft (460m), the surfaced U-1225 – a German submarine some 120 miles (193km) off the Shetland Islands – continued scoring hits with its twin 0.8in (20mm) flak guns. The 34-year-old Canadian was undeterred. Straddling a fine line between evasive action and staying on course, Hornell readied himself to drop depth charges when suddenly, at no less than 900ft (275m), the U-boat turned to port. This had not been part of the flight lieutenant’s plan of approaching from astern. Hesitate, and there would be no second chance. Lose his nerve, and it would be Hornell and his seven-man crew, not U-1225, at the bottom of the North Atlantic. It was now or never.
A Toronto native, ex-Goodyear Tire &aircraft – Canadian-built versions of the US PBY Catalina – joined efforts to close the Mid-Atlantic Gap, an area between North America and Britain out of range of Allied patrol planes. Their absence had resulted in German U-boats wreaking havoc against Allied convoys, but the arrival of No 162 Squadron had already made a significant difference. From May 1944, a detachment had also been sent to RAF Wick in northern Scotland to prevent enemy attacks on the Allied D-Day fleet. Such duties, though necessary, could be long and tedious, as had been the case for Canso 9754 ‘P’ following an uneventful ten-hour patrol that 24 June 1944. The crew had been looking forward to returning to Wick when 2nd Flight Sergeant Israel Joseph Bodnoff identified the surfaced U-boat.
