Wreck Recovery In Britain: Then And Now

By Peter J Moran

Whereas on the Continent, the Missing Research and Enquiry Unit left no stone unturned to try to trace the thousands of airmen who still remained missing, strangely enough no similar operation was carried out by the RAF on crash sites in the United Kingdom. Many of these still contained the mortal remains of pilots whose names had been added to the Memorial to the Missing unveiled at Runnymede in 1953. It is difficult to understand today how it took so long for the realization to sink in that aircraft wreckage still remained buried. When it did, there followed what can only be described as an unholy scramble to find crash sites and dig them up, heavy plant being employed to make it easier and quicker. At the height of this unfettered exploration period during the 1970s, there were over 30 ‘aviation archaeology’ groups at work, particularly in the counties of Essex, Kent and Sussex. Unrecovered human remains were now being found which understandably raised criticism from some quarters. Inevitably order had to be restored and the Ministry of Defence stepped in with a ‘code of conduct’ for digging up crashed aircraft, a measure that was reinforced by an Act of Parliament in 1986. Thereafter a process was introduced whereby the Ministry issued licenses before a wreck site could be excavated, and every license application, whether granted or refused, is listed for the first time in this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen and Sword
• Release date: Oct 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781399076784

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PROLOGUE

Kapitänleutnant Aloys Böcker’s Zeppelin L33 which ended up at Little Wigborough in Essex (see page 11).

During the First World War German airships staged over 50 bombing raids on the United Kingdom. The airships involved were operated by the German Army and German Navy as two entirely separate organisations although there was clearly a degree of co-ordination in the planning of bombing raids. The military effect of the raids was small although widespread alarm was caused and the psychological effect on the civilian population was very considerable.

The responsibility for the aerial defence of this country was, coincidentally, divided equally between the British Army and the Admiralty. On the evening of September 2, 1916, 12 Navy and four Army airships set out to bomb London on what was to have been the largest enemy air raid of the war. Between them they carried a total of 32 tons of bombs. Bad weather over the North Sea scattered the majority of the airships and only two Army craft succeeded in reaching the British coast. One of these airships, SL11, commanded by Hauptmann Wilhelm Schramm, arrived over London only to be caught in searchlights over Alexandra Palace and engaged by anti-aircraft fire. Managing to dodge the ground fire the airship then came under attack from a Royal Aircraft Factory BE.2c flown by Lieutenant William Leefe Robinson. Robinson raked the airship from end to end expending two drums of incendiary ammunition. Running low on fuel and with just one drum of ammunition remaining Robinson concentrated his fire on the stern of the airship at which point SL11 caught fire and slowly descended in flames, landing in a field at Cuffley, Hertfordshire, with the loss of the entire crew.

Hauptmann Wilhelm Schramm had the dubious honour to be the captain of the first German airship shot down over England. Right: Lieutenant William Leefe Robinson piloting a B.E.2c biplane fighter attacked the Schütte-Lanz airship SL11 over Hertfordshire on the night of September 2/3, 1916, causing it to crash in flames at Cuffley. The 16-man crew were all killed.

SL11 crashed on Castle Farm, its descent being visible all over north London. As a result, thousands of sightseers flocked to Cuffley, hoping to see the wreckage or perhaps pick up a souvenir. That evening an inquest into the deaths of the crewmen was held at the nearby Plough Inn when the Coroner announced that the War Office had decided to give the Germans a military funeral. Right: The chapel, although rebuilt, still serves as a point of reference.

Robinson, whose aircraft had been damaged by return fire from the airship, became the first British airman to shoot down a German airship and led to his being awarded the Victoria Cross. This event ended the German Army’s enthusiasm for raids on Britain although the Navy remained undaunted and continued their bombing sorties until August 1918 although with very limited success.

The bodies of Schramm and his crew were buried in a remote corner of Potters Bar Cemetery where another Zeppelin crew — that of Kapitäinleutnant Heinrich Mathy — joined them a month later. In 1926 Mathy’s wife visited the grave and was dismayed to find it very neglected. She complained to the German Embassy which quickly took steps to rectify matters. In 1930 an annual remembrance service started to be held there on Armistice Day in the hope of better Anglo-German relations. However, when Hitler came to power the ceremony began to incorporate a Nazi presence until by 1935 it was a wholly German affair with Nazi salutes and conducted in German. The German Ambassador Joachim von Ribbentrop attended the last ceremony before the Second World War. In 1960, the German War Graves Commission exhumed the remains to be reinterred at Cannock Chase, Staffordshire.

It was on the night of October 1/2 that L31 was brought down barely half a mile from where Schramm lay buried. Left: L31 hit an oak tree in Oakmere Park, Potters Bar, which immediately became a focus for more sightseers. The ‘Zeppelin Oak’, although split in half, continued to grow leaves each year and services were held there on the anniversary of the crash. When the area was developed for housing, the lower section of the park became Tempest Avenue although the oak still survived in the garden of No. 9. Shortly before the Second World War it was cut down by Bill Crawley as his neighbour at No. 7 was concerned lest the tree, which was by then quite rotten, might fall. Bill had a real job as he said the trunk was full of metal! Right: When a new entrance to Oakmere Park was required, Nos. 9 and 11 Tempest Avenue were demolished. The street sign ‘Wulstan Park’ on the right is believed to mark the exact spot where the Zeppelin Oak once stood.

Brought down by 2nd Lieutenant Fred Sowrey on the night of September 23/24, 1916, Zeppelin L32 ended up at Snails Farm, Great Burstead. News of the crash spread like wildfire and the first spectators on the scene arrived while it was still dark. By mid-morning the crowd were being kept a couple of hundred yards away by a ring of troops and even Lieutenant Sowrey had difficulty getting through the cordon to inspect his prize. Fragments of the ‘Zep’ had been strewn for quite a distance so souvenir hunters had a field day and even soldiers were not shy of selling pieces of aluminium. All that week people came to view the crash and a number of special trains were laid on to bring them to the site. However, in its report, The Times merely described the location of the crash as ‘Essex’, exactly the same as caption to this photograph by the Topical Press Agency.

Later that same month, on the night of September 23/24, 1916, the German Navy launched a force of 12 Zeppelins to bomb targets in Great Britain. Eight of the airships were to attack targets in the Midlands and the north-east whilst four R-Class Zeppelins headed for London. The first of these four, L30, had navigational problems and turned back before reaching the English coast, disposing of its bombs at sea. L31 dropped bombs on Leyton in east London killing eight people and injuring 30 before it too headed home.

The L32, commanded by Oberleutnant Werner Peterson, approached London from the south but encountered an anti-aircraft barrage and is thought to have sustained some shell damage before jettisoning its bombs over Purfleet, Essex, and setting course for home. At about 0110, 2nd Lieutenant Frederick Sowrey, also flying a BE.2c and on a regular night patrol, spotted L32 at 13,000 feet and closed with it. As with Robinson, he too fired three entire drums of incendiary ammunition into the airship before observing a result. It burst into flames and crashed near Snails Farm, South Green, Great Burstead, near Billericay. The first people on the scene were some local residents followed by police and the fire brigade who attempted to put out the fire in the hope of saving the crew. Unfortunately, however, all 22 crew perished in the crash, some, including Peterson, choosing to jump from the airship rather than burn to death. Sowrey was to receive the Distinguished Service Order for his feat.

There were many witnesses to the crash and dozens of people gathered for a closer look. By 0300, according to The Essex Newsman newspaper, ‘cars full of Londoners had started to arrive and by 0800 the narrow access to the site was clogged by motor cars, motor-cycles, traps, tradesmen’s carts and hundreds of bicycles’. A cordon of soldiers with fixed bayonets was set up but this did not deter souvenir hunters scouring nearby fields for debris. Pieces of the airship were said to be spread over a distance of two miles. The report concludes that ‘even lemonade sellers set up stall in an attempt to profit from the spectacle’.

The second Zeppelin to come down in Essex was the L33. She was damaged by a shell from either the Wanstead or Beckton ‘archie’ batteries and she ended up straddling the road on New Hall Farm at Little Wigborough, just north of the Blackwater Estuary.

Her captain, Kapitänleutnant Aloys Böcker, had ordered all removable items to be jettisoned to lighten the ship because of the loss of hydrogen but the frantic efforts to keep L33 airborne were to no avail. Before being taken prisoner, the crew fired their airship, the 650-foot burned-out skeleton providing some remarkable images (see also pages 6-7).

The fourth airship, L33, was also to fall victim to British forces that same night. It was damaged by anti-aircraft fire and was forced to land at New Hall Farm, Little Wigborough, Essex. The crew set fire to the airship before surrendering themselves to Special Constable Edgar Nicholas, who lived nearby. Other officers later joined him and the local constable, PC Charles Smith, arranged for the prisoners to be handed over to the military to be taken off to a prisoner of war camp. Once again the airship was the subject of great attention by spectators, but in this case the military were quicker to secure the scene and those parts of it which remained relatively undamaged were studied by experts and some features were said to have been incorporated into later British airship designs.

An unlucky few caught red-handed dealing in relics from the airships were not to escape the long arm of the law. A constable spotted Jack Lewis, a postcard vendor, selling pieces of a Zeppelin at one shilling a piece. While he was watching, Lewis was approached by Edward Stradling, an innkeeper who was carrying a large bag of aluminium. The constable arrested Lewis but Stradling is said to have got away on his motorcycle. Both men subsequently appeared before the Essex magistrates charged under the Defence of the Realm Act 1914 in that they had possession of items of wreckage and did not report the same to the authorities. The two defendants were given a stern reprimand by the chairman of the bench but, given that Lewis had already served a week in jail for his sins, he was not punished any further whilst Stradling had to deposit £2 in the poor-box. It appears that pillaging of the crash sites was not confined to civilians: a lieutenant in the army stationed at Great Leighs, is said to have strolled past the cordon of troops and filled his pockets with items which he then sold at his camp the following day raising £1.

This photograph of Zeppelin L48 lying in a field on Theberton Hall Farm in Suffolk is a perfect illustration of the double cordon thrown round airship wrecks designed to keep sightseers and souvenir hunters at a distance. L48 had been attacked by four RFC machines on the night of June 17, 1917, bringing her down in flames. Three of the crew survived but 16 were killed. Various items fell from the ship as it came down including, it is said, one of the huge Maybach engines which landed in what is now the Minsmere Nature Reserve. Photos of the clear up show rigs and pulleys being used to recover heavy sections of wreckage.

A few days after the Zeppelin attacks on London, on September 28, 1916, a conference was convened at General Headquarters, Home Forces, to ‘decide as to the ultimate disposal and allied questions concerning the wreckage of Hostile Airships’. Home Forces and the Royal Flying Corps provided one representative each while there were three officers from the War Office and another three officers and a civilian from the Admiralty. The notes of the conference paint a picture of officials whose understanding of the realities of the issues involved were at best theoretical. Additionally, there seems to have been much vying as to which branch of the military should have overall charge of the situation with the Admiralty usually assuming the upper hand.

The senior naval officer opened the discussion by stating that it was most important for the preservation of an airship wreck that it be fenced round as speedily as possible with two concentric wire fences. The outer fence, of barbed wire should be placed some distance from the wreck and an inner fence of plain wire as close as possible to the wreckage. Captain Norris, RN, who had at least acquainted himself with recent events, referring to the airship shot down earlier in the month at Cuffley, Hertfordshire, and, more recently, to the L32 brought down at Billericay, stated that fences would be inadequate unless supported by a cordon of troops to keep back the crowds of onlookers. A third Navy officer stated that ‘stringent measures’ must be put in place to prevent any official, be they army or navy, treading on any wreckage as valuable information might be lost in this way!

Major de Watteville, the Home Forces officer, lent a modicum of common sense to the meeting. He pointed out that it would generally take time to assemble military forces at a crash site and posed the question as to how measures could be put into place in the meantime to prevent wreckage being misappropriated by what he described as ‘civilians or undisciplined special constables or even volunteer firemen’! Following the events at Cuffley, he added that steps had been taken to increase the powers available under Defence of the Realm Act and instructions had been circulated to all police forces stressing the importance of preventing looting and souvenir hunting. This had not, however, prevented the situation at Billericay where even the bodies of the dead airmen had been rifled.

In June 2006, Neil Faulkner masterminded an excavation with Ray Rimmel, Simon Parry and Guy Smith to check the site for any remains, with the BBC stating that this was the first dig on a Zeppelin. For three days they trawled the field with professional detecting equipment, shifting the topsoil from an area of 200 square metres, but the only finds were minimal pieces of corroded aluminium framework, lead from one of the radiators and various copper items.

The next issue to tax the conference was that of permits and who was and who was not allowed to venture close to the area of the wreck site. It was decided that access as far as the cordon of troops or to the barbed wire fence would not normally require a pass. An ordinary permit, described as a ‘white’ pass, would allow the holder access inside the barbed wire cordon but not to approach the wreck and certainly not to handle any item of wreckage. Just a small number of such documents would be sent out to garrisons and commands while, obviously, the most senior Army and Navy officers would have their own personal passes.

Grim days in 1918 … but Whitsun brought the crowds out attack on London, of which six failed to return, thanks to the from the East End to see the end of a German raider. On the combined efforts of the Royal Air Force and the anti-aircraft night of May 19/20, 28 Gothas were mustered for a massed defences, then referred to as ‘archie’.

A special permit or ‘red’ pass would be issued to the privileged few giving them authority to remove books, maps or papers or other evidence but, again, not to disturb the wreck pending the arrival of the appropriate experts. Captain Norris ‘was strongly of the opinion’ that a naval officer should be at the scene to assist the commander of the guard, who ‘should not be below the rank of lieutenant-colonel’, in making checks to ensure that passes were valid and no unauthorised personnel were allowed near the wreck.

Press correspondents were not to be granted passes until two days had elapsed after the fall of the airship although official photographers appointed by the War Office might have earlier access. Under no circumstances, the conference decided, were pass-holders allowed to interrogate or search prisoners in any way, this task being reserved to naval intelligence officers.

As to disposal of the airship wreck itself, the rules set out by the conference were characteristically complex as might be imagined. The disposal of armaments, for example, were to be dealt with by the Army Council unless the airship had been brought down by naval personnel or in naval precincts in which case it would be a matter for the Admiralty. The notes continue: ‘Such parts of the airship as had any bearing on airship construction such as engines, valves and wireless gear, etc, would be handed over to those branches of the Admiralty which were interested in such wreckage and they might be removed from the wreck by the representatives of those branches if in possession of the ‘red’ passes which might entitle them to this privilege’.

Raids by enemy airships diminished during the final years of the conflict and just a handful were brought down over Britain before the Armistice was declared. One wonders whether this conference made the slightest difference to how airship wrecks were dealt with — I very much doubt that it did.

Here, Lieutenant Tony Arkell and his gunner, 1st Airman Albert Stagg, of No. 39 Squadron view the wreckage of their victory. Their Bristol Fighter was based at North Weald and they intercepted the Gotha just after midnight at an altitude of 11,000 feet north of Hainault. The Bristol had a forward-firing machine gun operated by the pilot and a movable gun in the rear cockpit so, taking it in turns, they both fired several long bursts. Twisting and turning while diving, the German sought to escape but at 1,500 feet a final burst from Stagg set the German’s starboard engine on fire and the bomber spun into the ground at East Ham.

The reports of the period describe the crash as being near Roman Road and, as we can see from the top picture, it came down only a few yards from the embankment of the Northern Outfall Sewer. In the background of the second shot, lies the Isolation Hospital off Boundary Road wrecked by the Luftwaffe in the Second World War. The crash position has now been lost beneath the building of Roman Road Primary School.

This Hawker Hart trainer from No. 5 Flying Training School at Sealand, Cheshire, overturned after a forced landing in a field near Mollington, near Chester, on June 6, 1939. Both pupil and instructor escaped unhurt.

BETWEEN THE WARS

As Richard Riding, the long-time editor of Aeroplane, wrote in 1993 in a supplement he had put together on pre-war crashes, ‘one saving grace of the aeroplanes of the pre-1940 era was that when it came to the crunch they were flying shock-absorbers. Their fabric-covered skeleton structures frequently crumpled as the machine struck the ground, taking most of the impact and often leaving unharmed (if somewhat dazed) pilot seated amidst a pile of wreckage that only seconds before had been one of the latest things in air travel. Accidents have been attributed all manner of causes, and they often originate from sources other than the pilots themselves. Bad design, poor maintenance, faulty operating methods, bad aerodrome surfaces, the weather, unpredictable circumstances, and sheer bad luck have all played their part in bringing aeroplanes suddenly to earth.’ The crashes illustrated here would easily have been cleared up by station personnel. Above: Flying Officer Hobson of No. 29 Squadron escaped serious injury when his Bristol Bulldog K5500 folded in half in a crash landing at North Weald. It was struck off charge in April 1933.

At the start of the First World War air warfare was very much in its infancy and the various nations involved had very few aircraft in their respective military arsenals. France, for example, is said to have had 140 aircraft at the start of hostilities but then went on to produce around 68,000 more during the war years. Astonishingly, France lost 52,640 aircraft to all causes during the same period with a substantial number of these being destroyed in battle. The French losses significantly surpassed those of both Britain (35,973) and Germany (27,637). The relative frailty of these early aircraft inevitably meant that the majority that crashed were probably damaged beyond economic repair which goes some way towards explaining the very high loss rate.

Limited facilities to repair aircraft during the 1914-18 conflict did exist, an example being No. 1 (Southern) Aircraft Repair Depot which formed in 1917 at Farnborough with sub-sites in Glasgow and Birmingham. The depot was a development of an Engine Repair Park and Aeroplane Repair Park formed two years earlier at Farnborough. A similar facility, No. 3 (Western) Aircraft Repair Depot, was also in existence at Yate, Gloucestershire. However, there appears to have been no formalised structure for the recovery and repair of aircraft during this period and the task very probably fell to the nearest military establishment, be it Navy or Army, to deal with their own aircraft casualties.

This Gloster Grebe II J7408 was on the strength of No. 56 Squadron when it overturned at Biggin Hill in 1925.

This Avro Tutor K3199 was on the strength of RAF Cranwell when trainee cadet Peter Vaughan crashed it on June 22, 1938 near the railway line at Castle Donington, Leicestershire. He escaped with a broken leg and cut chin.

During the inter-war years, and up until the mid to late 1930s, the aircraft in use by British forces were little changed from those operated during the earlier war. Generally, these aircraft were of light construction and, again, would not warrant repair in the event of a serious crash. Some insight into the extent of RAF aircraft losses over the period from the formation of the RAF in April 1918 until the beginning of the Second World War can be found in the Air of Authority - A History of RAF Organisation website compiled by Malcolm Barrass. The relevant portion of the website details RAF crashes involving fatalities rather than the overall number of crashes but at least gives some comparison year on year. In 1921 there were 14 fatal crashes involving RAF aircraft in Britain, one being an airship. The resulting 39 deaths included 24 in the airship. The 1927 figures show 22 crashes involving loss of life and 23 in 1932.

This Avro 504K E9370 of No. 2 Flying Training School stalled on a steep turn near its base at Digby in June 1925 and ended up against a drystone wall. Note that the skid has been pushed back into the rear fuselage.

The expansion of the RAF in the late 1930s led to a steady increase in aircraft losses and casualties with 92 fatal crashes being recorded in 1937. These figures were to dramatically increase on the outbreak of war and with it came the need for organisations to deal with thousands of crashed aircraft and airmen casualties.

Bristol F.2B Fighter J6696 swapped its undercarriage for an Irish farm cart near Galway during the time when No. 2 Squadron was carrying out Army cooperation duties in Ireland in 1920-23. The aircraft was repaired and remained in service until 1929.

This Heinkel He 111, 2648, of 2./KG55 was brought down in flames on the East Beach at Selsey on July 11, 1940.

THE SECOND WORLD WAR

On September 28, 1939, No. 1 Salvage Centre was established at Faygate, a small station on the London to Chichester railway between Crawley and Horsham, to cater for the clearance of aircraft wreckage from the Kent, Sussex, Surrey and Hampshire areas. With the early German sorties concentrating on Scotland, the salvage crews, redesignated No. 49 Maintenance Unit in October, had little to do, except for dealing with RAF crashes like that at Croydon in February (see page 31). In July, with the escalating air war, all that changed and No. 49 MU found itself in the front line with more than enough to occupy it. All German wrecks were first inspected by the Al1(g) officer attached to each MU, who compiled a technical report and had to issue a ‘release’ before the aircraft could be cleared.As the tempo of the battle quickened, the amount of aircraft wreckage, both Luftwaffe and RAF, littering the countryside grew dramatically, and civilian gangs like Nicholls & Co. had to be employed to ease the load on the hard-pressed MUs.

With the outbreak of another war there came the very real prospect of dealing with significant numbers of crashed aircraft, both Allied and enemy, which were expected to fall on UK soil. The need for an organisation to deal with this situation was, in part at least, anticipated with six Salvage Centres being set up in September 1939. It was clear from an early stage that these six units alone would not be able to cope with the amount of work expected to arise across the entire country and consequently, over a period of time, a further nine units were formed, some being manned, at various times, partly or wholly by civilian staff.

Aluminium scrap was consigned for re-processing by the Northern Aluminium Company at Adderbury, Oxfordshire. In the foreground of this shot we see part of the body of the Dornier 3Z+GS which came down at Horsmonden on July 3 and the Heinkel fuselage section behind belongs to G1+LK which force-landed at Selsey eight days later.

Within a short time of being set up the original six Salvage Centres were redesignated Maintenance Units and numbered along with the dozens of other MUs scattered across the country and involved in various other essential wartime duties. The change in name is said to have been due to security considerations, supposedly to give no clue to prying eyes as to their purpose. No. 43 Group (Maintenance) assumed overall administrative responsibility for the salvage of aircraft and equipment, with its headquarters being located firstly at the Morris Motors works in Cowley before later moving to Magdalen College, Oxford.

A unique prize. The first German fighter shot down over the UK was this Bf 109 from the ‘Weeping Pelican’ Gruppe of Jagdgeschwader 51 which fell to the guns of Sergeant E. A. Mould. This snapshot was taken as the aircraft was being recovered from where it force-landed at Bladbean Hill at Elham and came to us from Dave King, secretary of the Booker Aircraft Museum, as his late father-in-law, Albert Bate, then stationed at Tangmere, is standing on the wing.

The standard procedure was that when an aircraft crashed the unit involved would report the incident to the Air Ministry which would convey this information to No. 43 Group. In turn, they would contact the particular MU with responsibility for the area in which the crash had taken place. A crash inspector — usually a junior commission officer with some relevant qualification — would then visit the site and decide how the operation should be dealt with, roughly how long it would take, and what equipment was required to affect the recovery. The MU involved would then assemble a salvage gang of perhaps eight to ten men with an NCO in charge who were then tasked with carrying out the work.

The second to fall smashed into the ground later the same day at Buckland Farm, Sandwich. The crash site is seen here under investigation (above) in July 1940 and (below) by the Brenzett Aeronautical Museum in 1973, one of the earliest aircraft archaeological groups active in Kent.

Crashed enemy aircraft would be treated somewhat differently in that they would first be inspected by an RAF technical intelligence officer and, after removal of anything which might be of interest, he would then give the go-ahead for salvage work to commence. Priority had to be given to cases where vital services would be disrupted, a railway line or main road, for example. In a worse-case scenario where a crash involved destruction of the aircraft and possible loss of life, the priorities would be to recover any human remains and associated personal property; to secure any explosives such as bombs and ammunition and then to clear the site of wreckage as much as was practicable. With regard to ordnance, the salvage crews were able to draw upon the expertise of the RAF’s own bomb disposal squads.

Sadly, the first RAF fighter to fall — a Hurricane from No. 56 Squadron based at North Weald — was brought down by a Spitfire! The débâcle has gone down in the history books as the ‘Battle of Barking Creek (the term used by Londoners to describe the spot where the Northern Outfall Sewer and the River Roding meet), although the two Hurricanes shot down crashed 50 miles away to the north. Shortly after 6 a.m. on September 6, 1939, searchlight batteries reported to RAF Sector Operations at North Weald that a high-flying aircraft had been spotted over West Mersea on the Essex coast. Soon RDF [Radar] and the Observer Corps detected more plots which implied a potential mass attack on London. To meet the threat, Hurricanes from Nos. 56 and 151 Squadrons at North Weald were scrambled together with Spitfires from Nos. 54, 65 and 74 Squadrons at nearby Hornchurch.

B Flight of No. 56 Squadron at North Weald on September 3 — the day war was declared. These young Hurricane pilots were no doubt eager to get at the enemy … ready prepared to play their parts in any eventuality … except that of being targeted by their own side! Within three days two of these men had been shot down by No. 74 ‘Tiger’ Squadron from Hornchurch, Pilot Officer Montague Hulton-Harrop having the dubious distinction of being Fighter Command’s first casualty in the defence of the United Kingdom. From L-R, rear row: Pilot Officer L. Ereminsky, Pilot Officer P. D. M. Down, Flight Lieutenant Ian Soden, Pilot Officers J. H. Coghlan, P. F. Illingworth and F. C. ‘Tommy’ Rose. Front row: Pilot Officers Hulton-Harrop and E. Holden. Leading No. 151 Squadron from North Weald was Squadron Leader E. M. Donaldson: ‘The incident had a devastating effect on what we knew as the North Weald wing, for we had been waiting in a high state of readiness since the war started when we thought the Luftwaffe would strike in force on London’.