Accident report

A formation of 12 Hurricanes and 12 Blenheims departed from Tangmere, UK to reinforce Malta and the Middle East on 18.07.40. Despite the bad weather, the urgency of the situation necessitated the flight. Off these 24 aircraft, six Blenheims and one Hurricane would be lost in thunderstorms between the UK and France.

Because of bad weather over France, the formation broke up, and P2650, with five other Hurricanes, proceeded in formation with a Blenheim, and managed to land at Ussel. Some of the aircraft got bogged down, although only one Hurricane was damaged.

The following day, the 19th, led by the Blenheim, the five Hurricanes left for Marigrane, to re-fuel and a night stop because of the bad weather. But the formation leader, receiving news (later proven to be false) that advance units of the German army were closing in, decided to take off rather than risk being captured.

Sometime after departure, two of the Hurricanes had to return to France with engine trouble.

During their flight to North Africa, the formation got separated, the aircraft reaching the Tunisian coast in darkness, during a thunderstorm.

Because the French Forces had not received prior notice of their arrival, the British aircraft were mistaken to be hostile and fired at them, although apparently not hitting them. The formation, abandoning any hope of finding an aerodrome, decided to land in the sea near Ferry Ville.

Accident Report - Operation White

Code-named "White", this operation was a repeat of Operation "Hurry" conducted in August.

The twelve aircraft took-off from HMS Argus in two formations of six aircraft each, one hour apart, each formation guided by a Skua aircraft. First take-off was at 06:15. On approaching to Galleta Island, where a Malta-based Sunderland flying boat would take over from the Skua, and guide them to Malta.

A little after 09:00, two Hurricanes were observed ditching in the sea by the Sunderland. The pilot landed on the water, and rescued one of the pilot, Sergeant R. A. Spyer, who reported that he had run out of fuel. The remaining four Hurricanes and the Skua landed safely at Luqa at 09:20.

The second formation fared even worse, all seven aircraft and their crews going missing. Also, the Sunderland meant to guide them in suffered a technical fault preventing it from taking-off, being substituted by a Glenn Martin bomber, who was unable to make contact with the incoming flight. Searches by anti-submarine trawlers off the sister island of Gozo were equally fruitless.

An immediate inquiry has been launched into the loss of nine aircraft flown off HMS Argus for Malta on Sunday. Reporting to the War Cabinet, the First Sea Lord outlined the initial findings of the emergency investigation into the loss.

According to the report, the first flight of six Hurricanes, led by a Skua, flew off, where they were met by a Sunderland flying boat to be guided onward to Malta. The second flight of one Skua and six Hurricanes also flew off Argus. They were due to rendezvous with a Sunderland flying boat which was unable to take off owing to a defect. A Glenn Martin was sent instead to meet the seven delivery aircraft instead. However, the weather deteriorated and the Glenn Martin failed to make contact with the second flight.

The report’s firm conclusion was that in both flights the machines were carrying a very small margin of fuel. The investigation had established that five of the aircraft in the first flight arrived at the rendezvous with very little fuel left in their tanks. Two force-landed in the sea; one pilot was picked up by the Sunderland flying-boat.

The second flight asked for a direction-finder bearing from Malta, which was given. At that time they were in a position due west of the Island. It is not known whether their signal had been picked up. Despite a thorough search, none of the pilots was located.

The distance from the point at which the aircraft flew off Argus for Malta was 385 miles. This was 40 miles further west of Malta than the last time a similar operation was carried out. It is believed that the early take-off was ordered when an Italian naval force was detected approaching the convoy. This would appear to be critical given the findings regarding low fuel readings in the surviving aircraft.

Accident report - by Pilot Officer C. F. Hart on his treatment in Portugal.

On May 17th 1941 our Wellington aircraft, T2572, was forced to land on the beach at S. Pedro del Moel in Portugal due to failure of the starboard engine. No member of the crew was injured in the landing.

It was fully thirty minutes after landing before anyone appeared, as we were about a mile and a half from the village. Eventually, however the police appeared, and seemed very relieved when they discovered we were English, because the large majority of the Portuguese are pro-English. We were then taken to the town of Marinha Grande, where we were given breakfast by the major, under whose custody we were placed, pending the arrival of the International Police.

One would have thought we oddities by the way the people came to look at the English Aviators, but as there are very few Portuguese in uniform we were quite a spectacle to most of the villagers. The Major arranged lunch for us, and, I might add, gave us far too much to eat.

About six o’clock, the International Police arrived, and questioned us each in turn. Name, Number, Rank and where we were from and our destination;- the latter to questions were unanswered. They were extremely nice about the questioning, and it didn’t appear that they were terribly thorough in their examination, but I would suppose that if they gave a superficial report to their H.Q. it would be sufficient. I immediately after the International Police had finished with us, we had a talk with the British Air Attaché, - Wing Commander Schreiber, - from Lisbon, who gave us some money to cover incidental expenses. We were then taken to Nazare by motor, and given rooms in the hotel. From that point we never saw the International Police again, but were asked not to go outside the village limits.

The following day we discovered that two plain-clothes policemen had been sent to keep an eye on us, but they never really bothered.

Sunday, the Naval Attaché, Lt. Cmdr. A.C. Walch, at Lisbon brought us civilian clothes and suggested that we should try to arrange some picnics, so that the villagers would get used to the idea of us being away for several hours at a time. This scheme was put into operation on Monday afternoon, when we walked down the beach about five miles, and stayed away for about five hours. The same procedure was followed on Tuesday and Wednesday, and no notice of it was noticed by the plains-clothes men.

Wednesday evening, the Naval Attaché came to pay us a visit to see if everything was going smoothly, and instructed us to be at a certain point outside the village limits on the Sunday afternoon at four o’clock.

Thursday, there was a “fiesta” in the village, and people from all around the countryside came for this gala occasion. As per schedule we set out in the early afternoon to locate our rendezvous, but much to our surprise we were stopped by one of the plain-clothes men just as we were about to crosse the village limits. This episode was duly reported to the Naval Attaché, who informed us that he didn’t think we would be bothered any more. This proved to be the case, because the plain-clothes men disappeared on Friday evening.

Their disappearance caused quite a lot of speculation among the villagers, because they couldn’t figure out quite why we were still there when our “guards” had gone, and several of them suggested various way we could escape, such as having a flying-boat land in the bay, or to take a fishing boat and set out to sea.

Their were several people who could speak French or English treating us to drinks, etc, but here I must add that the behaviour of all the crew was above reproach and each one did his part.

We had to be very careful in our talk because a hint was dropped that there were some German agents in the village; however, even though we were suspicious of a couple of people they did not obtain any information from us. Books and newspapers were sent to us by the Naval Attaché, which helped us to pass the time.

Sunday, we prepared for our departure. We arrived at our rendezvous at four o’clock and were picked up by three cars, two of us in each one. These cars were driven by Portuguese, and we were taken to Lisbon, where we embarked on a tug which took us outside the three-mile limit to a pre-arranged spot where we were met by an English patrol vessel, (The “Scottish”.) We were then taken Gibraltar, and from there returned to England by flying-boat.

The following Portuguese aided us in our escape:-

Lt. Jose Martius Contreiras, who appeared to be the organiser from the Portuguses side and is in the Naval Reserve.

Major Dias Leite,an Officer in the Portuguese Air Force.

Dr. Calual d’Andrade.

Fernando Farinha Gereira, Shell agent at Alicantes.

Dr. Farinha Gereira. These last three were the drivers of the motor-cars.

Lt. Commander E.W.B. Leake was also very kind, and acted as a liaison between Commander Walch and ourselves. Everyone spoke very highly of Commander Walch, particularly the Portuguese mentioned above, and they say they will do everything they can to help him anytime.

Onward to Malta

From the web site https://scarfandgoggles.wordpress.com/tag/tom-neil, I found the following information.

Hurricane Z3055 was built in early 1941, one of the fifth production batch of 1,000 aircraft built at Kingston. It was delivered from the factory to No. 48 Maintenance Unit at Hewarden on 27 February 1941 and prepared for squadron service. Over the next few months the Hurricane was shuttled between. It was transferred to Abbotsinch and No. 5 Maintenance Unit at Kemble. It was delivered back to Abbotsinch on 18 May, for shipment to Malta as part of the convoy known as Operation ROCKET.

To start this, the seventh ‘Club Run’ (as the Royal Navy christened the Malta convoys), the converted Edwardian cruise ship HMS Argus was loaded with 29 cased Hurricanes on the Clyde, and sailed with the cruiser HMS Exeter to join convoy WS 8B to Gibraltar, arriving on May 31st. A day later the carrier HMS Furious, a converted WW1 battle cruiser, also arrived in Gibraltar, upon which were 48 pre-assembled Hurricane II aircraft including Z3055, which were transferred to HMS Ark Royal as she lay at anchor in Gibraltar.

This was a repeat of the previous Club Run, Operation SPLICE, which had taken the elite 249 Squadron to Malta a fortnight earlier. Among the pilots who made that journey was 249 Squadron’s top-scoring ace Tom Neil, who memorably described the voyage in his memoir Onward to Malta:

“In the warm and sultry blackness of the Mediterranean night, Gibraltar was a blaze of light, a stirring and nostalgic sight for those of us who had lived in conditions of blackout for almost two years. Gathering our meagre belongings we bade farewell to the Furious and stumbled along the debris-strewn dockside towards the Ark. Above us, planks had already gone down and the first of our aircraft were being trundled across.”

The Argus then made a stern-to-stern transfer of her completed aircraft to Furious, while the remaining cased airframes were landed on Gibraltar for assembly. Although the scene was one of furious activity for many engineers, stevedores and sailors, the same could not be said for the pilots. Their job was still to come, and Gibraltar provided an ideal interlude:

“From our hosts we learned that we would be sailing as soon as the transfer of aircraft had been completed,” Tom Neil wrote.

“Later, much later, with pink gins fairly slopping around inside I returned to my cabin, my morale restored absolutely by the sophistication of my surroundings and the courtesy of my new-found friends. Then, in the wee small hours, tremors and subdued grumblings started up somewhere underfoot and, in a cosy, gin-induced stupor, I concluded that we were once more heading seawards. . . Good ol’ Navy, I thought; Cap’n Bligh, or whoever, would probably know the way. Two points to starboard, if you please, Mister Christian! Dear God! If only the sides of this cabin would keep still.”

On Operation ROCKET, Ark Royal and Furious set off eastwards late on June 4th, escorted by Force H of the Mediterranean fleet: the battle cruiser HMS Renown, the cruiser HMS Sheffield and the destroyers HMS Faulknor, Fearless, Foresight, Forester, Foxhound and Fury .

Early in the morning of June 6th the carriers launched a total of 44 Hurricanes from their regular point close to the Balearic Islands. The Hurricanes would rendezvous with eight Blenheim bombers that had taken off from Gibraltar and fly the regular supply route towards Cap Bon on the northeast tip of Tunisia then skip round the hostile islands of Pantelleria, Lampedusa and Linosa before arriving over Malta.

The route was difficult and potentially dangerous – Italian, German and Vichy French aircraft were all in range of the Hurricanes, which were unarmed and over-laden with fuel for the flight and supplies for the island such as cigarettes and toothpaste, stowed where the ammunition should be. There was also, for the pilots, the new and daunting prospect of taking off from a ship.

The experience was recorded by Tom Neil, who was not in the best of spirits when he had to make his great leap into the unknown.

“Silent and yawning, we went in single file to one of the deserted dining rooms and were each handed a fried breakfast by one of the kitchen staff whose bare and bulging arms were liberally garnished with red-and-blue pictures referring to Love, Mother and a lady called Doris. . .”

Although there was considerable trepidation among the young men who would fly off, catastrophes were thankfully rare on these convoys. The mighty Ark Royal in particular could summon up 30 knots into wind, giving the over-burdened Hurricanes all possible help to take off despite the short runway of her deck.

All 44 of the Hurricanes got away safely on Operation ROCKET but one was forced to return to the Ark Royal due to engine problems and made an unheard-of deck landing – all the more remarkable when laden with long-range fuel tanks and stowed equipment. The remaining 43 Hurricanes and the eight Blenheims from Gibraltar arrived safely in Malta.

At this time the war in Malta had quietened down significantly. The Luftwaffe had only days before withdrawn from Sicily in order to make its way to the Russian border, where soon Operation BARBAROSSA would launch Hitler’s offensive to the east.

Tom Neil would recall it as: “a delightful period of my life. Here I was on a nice warm Mediterranean island, surrounded by friends and decent aeroplanes to fly… what we had was a private war between three squadrons of Hurricanes and the Italian air force in Sicily, which was very much a comic opera affair . . . The Italians were not really interested in this war. They did not bother us much.”

As a result Z3055 was held in reserve until July 1st when she was taken on charge by 126 Squadron. On July 4th she took off before daybreak from the reserve airstrip at Safi before dawn with Sergeant Tom Hackston at the controls. For some reason Hackston got into difficulties and crashed into the sea and was killed, with Z3055 ending her marathon journey to Malta in ignominious fashion.

Shortest flight of my life.

"Another night was memorable for the shortest flight of my life. I scrambled to intercept a raid and took off from Ta' Qali with everything normal. I had just got my wheels up when my engine stopped dead."

This was how Flt Lt Donald "Dimsie" Stones recorded one of his experiences during his defence of Malta at night shortly after the setting up by the Royal Air Force of the Malta Night Flight Unit in World War II.

The meagre fighter force in Malta at the start of the war put up a formidable defence of the island but it was a different matter at night.

The defence deficiencies are brought to light in an article by Robin J. Brooks in this month's edition of Britain's top-selling aviation monthly Flypast.

Flt Lt Stones wrote that after he parachuted out of the plane the canopy "cracked open above me, something burned inside my left thigh and I landed almost at once on a stone wall, cushioned by a thorn bush.

"My poor Hurricane was burning brightly in the next field about 50 yards away. Getting out of my parachute, I started to walk towards the fire when I was surrounded by some Maltese waving sticks at me, convinced I was the German for whom the air raid sirens had sounded.

"I tore off my Mae West and opened my overalls to reveal my RAF uniform and wings. This partially convinced the Maltese but just then my Hurricane's full load of ammunition started exploding in the inferno, followed by the oxygen bottles which sounded like bombs to the Maltese and (it was) certain lynching for me.

"Mercifully, a British gunner appeared from one end of the airfield defence batteries and helped to save my bacon. In return I treated him to a rather large Scotch back at the airfield."

The Malta Night Flight Unit was set up to make up for the lack of night-time defensive capabilities by Sqn Ldr George Powell-Sheddon with the allocation of eight Hawker Hurricane IICs and four IIBs. The unit was based at Ta' Qali. Sqn Ldr Powell-Sheddon, affectionately known as "Polly", was charged with gathering other pilots from the fighter squadron stationed in Malta.

The first priority was to paint the planes black and "Polly" had decided that the Hurricanes would fly in pairs hand in hand with local searchlight units.

Double batteries of searchlights were placed at each end of the island. The intention was for the Hurricanes to circle these until the radar plotted enemy aircraft approaching about 24 kilometers out.

On December 2, 1941, the MNFU was renamed 1435 Flight and around the same time, their operations were extended to night intruder patrols around enemy fields in Sicily.

Routine flying tests were done at dusk to ensure serviceability of the aircraft. The planes were parked on the edge of the Ta' Qali airfield.

Six pilots would be at readiness all night. The unit was finally disbanded on May 9, 1945.

Additional information

I have received the following information from Mr. Teasdale about this incidence.

I was compelled to visit Malta a few years after my father died in 1992 because I knew he had served with the RAF throughout WWII in and around the Mediterranean and North Africa.

I did spend some time speaking with staff at the (Malta Aviation) museum and I recall leaving my father's flying log book for a few days so that they could record anything of interest, which they did and returned the log safely back to me before I returned to the UK.

It appears from the flying logbook that after lengthy training in the UK, the BB512 story began on 27th March 1942 at FTF (RAF) Harwell UK. My father was assigned to 37 squadron RAF. As an air gunner, he crewed BB512 with a Sgt. Pearce as the pilot. Of course, the rest of the crew are unknown. I summarise the entries as follows;

27.03.42 15:50 Consumption test (2hrs 40mins)

28.03.42 12:00 Cross country and air firing (4hrs 20mins)

30.03.42 12:45 General test (0hrs 45mins)

01.04.42 11:00 Delivery flight to St. Eval (2hrs 10mins) This was in Cornwall I believe, now gone.

02.04.42 07:00 Delivery flight UK to Gibraltar (9hrs 05min)

04.04.42 13:00 Delivery flight Gibraltar to Malta (9hrs 07mins) (crashed into A/C on flarepath)

There is no indication which squadron would have received BB512, or that my father served with the OADU, but he was in 37 Squadron for the entire war with over 250 flying hours.

I have seen a record on your website of an incident on 4th April 1942 which coincides with contents of the log book. My father Sgt. J. R. Teasdale 1196412 was the rear gunner in BB512 which 'crashed into aircraft on flare path'. I recall that whilst he did not talk of the war for many years, at some point he did tell me that his plane 'landed on top of another one' (his words) and that he was stranded in Malta for a few weeks. I am sure he said that a court of inquiry took place in Cyprus, but I could be mistaken because there are no records of this. The incident in your record indicates that the collision was with Wellington Z8575. My father never mentioned the subsequent recorded incident on 5th April 1942 when an unspecified departing Wellington collided with the previous day's wreckage and was destroyed by fire. He must have known about this because he was there. The log shows that he left Malta in another Wellington ES991 on 14th April as passenger on a delivery flight to El Faioum.

He went on to see further action in North Africa, particularly Tobruk and El Alamein, and on 9th July 1942, his plane made a forced landing in the desert north of Birket Quarin. On 14th July yet another forced landing south west of Fuqa. Both were as a result of operations over Tobruk. He and his crew walked 160 miles through enemy lines, and contacted British troops on the 9th day. He was reported missing in action (my grandparents were informed by telegram), but once back with his unit, he was bestowed with the honour of member of the 'late arrivals club'. We still have his certificate and silver flying boot badge.

Accident Report

Wing Commander Patrick Gibbs, DSO, DFC and Bar, gives additional details about this incident in his book Torpedo Leader on Malta pp 150-151.

During the attack Ted’s aircraft had been hit in the port wing. At first the damage appeared to be slight, but soon the port engine was showing unmistakable signs of imminent failure, and Ted, with no hope of completing the three hundred mile return flight, was left with no alternative but to turn back in an attempt to reach the Greek coast. In this he failed, being forced to alight on the sea some five miles from land, where he and his crew had remained floating in the dinghy for several hours before being picked up by an Italian flying boat. Then they were flown to a seaplane base, and after being questioned by some Italian Intelligence Officers were made surprisingly comfortable in the Mess, were they were warmly entertained. The description of the food and wine consumed that evening drew involuntary sighs from several rather hungry Malta defenders. Apparently the Italians, although friendly, had volunteered very little information, but I was interested to hear that not only were our aircraft mistaken for Blenheims, but our last attack was believed to have come from Egypt. From my point of view, the evening’s entertainment reached a climax when a message was delivered to the captured crew from no less a personage than an Italian Admiral, congratulating us on the execution of the attack! The playing of comic opera was, it appeared, still an Italian accomplishment.

The next morning the prisoners had been re-embarked in a flying boat which was to take them to Taranto for further interrogation. This aircraft was curiously under-staffed; in the cockpit two pilots shared the flying and navigation, supported by a Flight Engineer, while a single soldier guarded the four prisoners in the cabin.

Entertainment in Greece was one matter, the approaching interment in a prison camp in Italy quite another. Ted Strever was six feet tall and built in proportion, his wireless operator was of similar size and the rest of the crew capable of looking after their interests; but the guard had a gun of some sort. However the unfortunate Italian soldier had, it appeared, never flown before and soon fell a victim to air sickness, turning olive green beneath his southern tan and becoming very unhappy. The captives exchanged meaningful glances, Ted hit the Italian very hard and the gun changed hands. The plot of the comedy unfolded a step further when it was immediately found to be unloaded. With this omission rectified, further steps were taken which led towards the cockpit, and soon the pilot felt the gun‘s barrel pressed firmly against the back of his neck. All had then not proceeded quite smoothly, and the disagreeable situation which developed resulted in the necessity of knocking out the second pilot. For a short time afterwards Ted himself took over the controls, while his navigator tried to ascertain their position, but eventually the atmosphere became more amicable and the Italian pilot agreed to relieve Ted of the difficulties of coping with a strange collection of foreign instruments.

By this time the navigator had found his position to be in the Gulf of Taranto, and the pilot was persuaded to turn round and start the long flight southward down the two hundred mile stretch of Italian coastline. The crew, unthinking in the heat of action, became understandably nervous as the venture settled down to cold-blooded execution; not one of them relished the possibility of recapture and a reception which would certainly be less cordial than before. Anxiety was further increased by a complete ignorance of what demands might be made of them in the way of recognition signals, but after nerves had been frayed almost to breaking point it became apparent that the Italian markings on the aircraft were sufficient; Junkers 88s and ME109s passed within sight without showing any signs of suspicion, and the most southerly point of Sicily was reached with no more serious injury than several cases of near heart failure which had occurred when a ‘friendly’ Italian aircraft for a few minutes joined formation with the flying boat!

But the unknown dangers of the flight within sight of enemy territory seemed over-estimated when they came to be compared with the known perils of the approach to Malta, and relief at leaving behind the Sicilian coast turned to reasonable apprehension as the Island drew near. The most anxious moment of the whole flight occurred within sight of friendly land, when half a dozen Spitfires sighted the unescorted flying boat and dived to attack. The pilot had been flying in case of this very emergency, and on Ted’s orders landed promptly on the smooth sea, while white handkerchiefs were waved frantically in surrender. A horrible moment passed while the crew waited helplessly for the chatter of machine guns to break out over the roar the diving aircraft, but the Spitfire leader held his fire and disaster was averted. A launch sent out to capture what was thought to be a hostile aircraft brought Ted home triumphant with a captured flying boat in tow and three prisoners.

A different angle.

Additional information comes from the web site www.maltagc70.com.

As the apparently hostile aircraft neared the Island, it triggered the air raid alert and six Spitfires of 603 Squadron Ta Qali were scrambled to intercept. Three of them attacked the floatplane as it approached St Paul's Bay. Lt Strever ordered the Italian pilot to land immediately on the water. One of his crew then pulled of his shirt and his vest, to wave as a white flag as they scrambled onto the wings.

Puzzled, the Spitfire pilots ceased firing and radioed for the air sea rescue launch, circling overhead until it arrived. The crew of HSL 107 were bemused to find four RAF airmen waiting for them on the floatplane's wings, along with its crew of five Italians.

Air Sea Rescue commander J S Houghton recalled: "The Cant...was towed by HSL 107 to St Paul's Island. It was then passed over to our Seaplane Tender and taken to a buoy off St Paul's Pier, where the five Italians and four Commonwealth airmen were taken ashore. A very strong Army guard was provided to prevent the locals from attacking the Italians. The South African captain, who had led the hijack, brandished his revolver, leaving no doubt as to what he would have done if the Italians had been harmed."

Lt Strever returned his previous captors' hospitality before seeing them in turn taken prisoners of war. For their actions Lt Strever and P/O Dunsmore were awarded the DFC and Sgts Brown and Wilkinson the DFM.

From prisoners ..... to Captors

Yet additional information about this episode comes from an article which appeared in Air Britain’s Aeromilitaria, Vol. 28 Issue 111, Autumn 2002. It was written by Nicola Malizia, and translated from Italina by Frank McMeiken, whilst readers of the magazine sent in further information.

This is not the entire article.

Under threat from the Beretta Mod.34 9mm pistol liberated from Vice Brigadiere Scarciella, Tenente Mastrodicasa and Marescialfo Chifari were forced to comply with their captors' requests, although the Italian officer pilot warned that they would be attacked by fighters airborne from Malta. In fact, at that very moment, at Ta Kali airfield, a flight of four Spitfire Vb’s from 603 Squadron was being scrambled. The formation was led by Flying Officer Dicks-Sherwood, who spotted the Italian Cant Z.506B about ten miles from the Maltese coast.

Considerable panic broke out inside the seaplane amongst both hijackers and captives and the first machine gun bursts began to approach the aircraft. Skillful and energetic manoeuvring by the Italian pilots negated the first attack, while the white-faced hijackers ran to the cabin windows and waved arms and uniforms in the hope of alerting their attackers. It was not enough. The 603 Squadron formation rolled in for another attack, and this time a burst fired by Sergeant Bill Young, who coincidentally was a personal friend of Strever, ripped through the starboard wing.

At this point, despite rocking their wings, Tenente Mastrodicasa and Marescialfo Chifari had no option but to dive down and make a quick forced landing, despite the range from Malta, as an unmistakable sign that the Cant Z.5068, which had not fired a shot in return, had a serious problem. Luckily, the four Spitfires understood and ceased fire. After making a couple of passes over the seaplane, static in the middle of the sea, they set course for Malta, explaining on the radio to their Fighter Controller exactly what had happened.

Around half an hour passed, and then, on the horizon, appeared Air Sea Rescue Launch HSL 107, whose crew, noticing the 'singularity' of the occupants of the Cant, set about towing the aircraft (191-13, the 13 suffix obviously bringing not a little luck], to Malta, where it was tied up in St. Paul's Bay.

The Italian crew thus changed from guards to captives, a unforeseen condition, almost a tragi-comedy, and certainly unusual. The fame and glory that attached itself to Lieutenant Strever and his crew can be easily imagined; nevertheless, he was careful to treat his former captives with equal respect and kindness, even to the extent of posing for a similar photograph to the one taken in Greece. Once they had arrived in Malta, and the menacing Beretta 9mm pistol of the now-bewildered Vice Brigadiere Scarciella had been put away, the British and Italians became 'friends' again. In fact, Strever and his crew had exercised one of the rights, permitted by the Geneva Convention, which enables any prisoner to attempt to escape from captivity.

The Cant Z.506B soon received RAF codes and colours, and Maresciaflo Alessandro Chifari was charged with converting a few Malta-based pilots on to the type. The island Command wanted to use the elegant and functional Italian seaplane to recover survivors from the open sea, but the life of poor 139-13 was destined to be brief. Despite the abundant British markings and codes, and the awareness of the aircraft's operations by the islands radar centres, on more than one occasion Spitfire pilots operating around Malta threatened the aircraft, recognising the unmistakable profile of one of the most numerous trimotors serving with the units of the Regia Aeronautica.

The 139 Squadriglia R.M. crew was tried in Italy, in their absence, and found guilty for surrendering themselves and an aircraft to the enemy. The former captives, however, were decorated: the two officers, Strever and Dusmore, received the DFC, while the NCOs, Brown and Wilkinson, were awarded the DFM ...a strange outcome for victors and losers.

Dave Vincent has commented on the article on the hijack of a CANT 506B. The two wop/gunners were New Zealanders. Harry Coldbeck, a PR pilot, recorded another aspect of the story in his book Wings of War. He relates that the Italian crew agreed to show the RAF how to handle the 506 on the understanding it would only be used for lifesaving.

At this time, there were no ASR seaplanes available on Malta. One search with an RAF crew was for an Allied crew in a dinghy. The radio was not receiving R/T messages which made liaison with the escorting Spitfires impossible. Just at that moment, along came a Luftwaffe Do 24 which landed alongside the dinghy, collected the crew and whisked them off to captivity.

Coldbeck was given a package about this time by AHO Malta. He was told to drop it on Catania airfield the next time he was returning from a PR sortie. It was addressed to the Regia Aeronautica and apparently contained family letters and personal items belonging to the Italian crew, including, optimistically, their lottery tickets. Catania seemed a strange choice as it was heavily defended; some quieter spot would have been preferable. The ground staff at Luqa made up some streamers to be attached to the package and Coldbeck set off in BP915 for Messina and Naples. On return, he made for Catania and, feeling very self-conscious, tossed out the package when overhead, with no reaction from the defences.

Unfortunately, Coldbeck was shot down off Augusta on 10 November. After being questioned he asked whether the package had been received. He was told that it had but no details were forthcoming. While the Italian crew had been tried in their absence for losing their aircraft, we wonder what happened to them when, a year later, a large part of the Regia Aeronautica followed their lead by co-operating with the RAF.

Accident Report

Not all of the aircraft lost during WWII were the result of enemy action. As this extract from Dennis Cooke’s article “The Flying in-mates of Luqa's poor house – 1942”, (Malta Flypast - 6) not everyone could handle the war in Malta. Ron Gillman, in his book The Ship Hunters – about his time in Malta with a Beaufort squadron – also makes reference to such servicemen, which could lead to them being charged with lacking moral fibre - cowardice in the face of the enemy!

With replenished fuel supplies our squadron was able to increase the number of anti-shipping strikes but the extra strain was having an ill-effect on many crews. With the stress of night flying, the constant daily bombing and poor diet our health was in jeopardy. Jim our second-pilot suffered a nervous breakdown and left the crew to be replaced by FI Sgt Rowe. The majority of our crew thought the skipper was heading the same way. We had lost confidence in him and this was confirmed on 28 October when in Wellington HX441 we took-off on a convoy strike.

Our Wimpy had been flying normally for over an hour when the skipper reported a loss of power from the port engine. He announced gravely that we were in danger of rapidly losing height and gave instructions to jettison our bomb-load and return to Luqa. Brian handed me a note giving our latitude and longitude position and calmly said:

"Send a distress signal". It was my first experience of transmitting an SOS message on 'ops' and I was overjoyed to get an instant acknowledgement from Malta.

We slowly lost height and were down to 200 feet when Malta loomed in sight. Viv hastily lowered the undercart and flaps and made a direct approach to Luqa airfield but was too high for a safe landing. A red flare shot up from the ground warning us to abort. Viv's second attempt was worse. He was still too high. He was losing control of himself and the aircraft when he made a third attempt to land. I was taking my turn in the rear turret at the time and was alarmed to see the runway disappearing behind us. After what seemed an age we finally overshot the runway and landed with a great thump before careering across rocky ground and finishing nose down in a shallow quarry. We were badly shaken, bruised, but not seriously hurt. The CO referred us to St Paul's Rest Centre for a few days to recover. Viv Hodnett was posted back to the U.K.

Undated accidents, December 1942 – Februay 1943

The following accidents, for the three-month period from December 1942 to February 1943, are lacking in day and serial numbers. It is possible that these incidents have already been listed, but without the date and serial for proper confirmation, I have decided to list them separately in this table.

DATE	AIRCRAFT	SQDN	SERIAL	NOTES
__.12.42	M. Baltimore	69		Pilot was attempting a forced landing owing to engine failure caused by fuel shortage, over shot and ground looped at end of run.
__.12.42	H. Hurricane			Pilot was attempting a forced landing and overshot, hitting perimeter fence at low speed at end of run.
__.12.42	S. Spitfire	229		Landing in cross-wind, aircraft developed an uncontrolled swing which pilot could not correct, damaged undercarriage.
__.12.42	S. Spitfire	249		Strong cross wind caused aircraft to swing on landing. To avoid collision with parked aircraft, pilot ground looped, damaging undercarriage.
__.12.42	V. Wellington	40		Loop bearing treated as Q.D.M.. Aircraft eventually received Q.D.M., but meanwhile ran out of fuel and forced to ditch, crew rescued, investigations continuing.
__.12.42	V. Wellington	148		Badly distributed load upset trim of aircraft when throttled back, causing a stall on landing approach. Four killed, seven injured.
__.12.42	V. Wellington			Aircraft had returned from a raid and landed, when “hung up” bomb became loose and exploded. Front and rear gunners killed.
__.12.42	V. Wellington	69		Aircraft returned owning to engine trouble, brakes did not function.
__.12.42	B. Beaufighter	272		Port engine seized at 300 ft shortly after take-off. Pilot jettisoned bombs and land straight ahead in first suitable field.
__.12.42	B. Beaufighter	272		Pilot was attempting to go around again on landing aircraft but lost height and crashed.
__.12.42	DH Mosquito	23		Coolant leak caused engine failure (during delivery flight), pilot carried on to Malta, on one engine and landed on the flare path.
__.12.42	S. Spitfire	185		Internal glycol leak led to engine failure, forcing the pilot to return to base, and was forced to land with undercarriage retracted.
__.01.43	S. Spitfire	229		Pilot misjudged strong cross wind, touching down at the extreme edge of the runway, hitting a petrol bowser. The bowser couldn’t be moved owing to burst tires.
__.02.43	V. Wellington			Pilot landed out of wind and off flare path at night, due to an error of judgement under difficult lightning conditions. Aircraft burnt out, crew safe.
__.02.43	M. Baltimore	69		Pilot didn’t correct excessive swing on landing, causing to aircraft to veer off the runway, and the wheels to collapse. Pilot error.
__.02.43	S. Spitfire	249		Pilot made a heavy landing causing collapse of undercarriage. Accident deemed pilot’s fault.
__.02.43	S. Spitfire	249		Pilot selected gear up before being fully airborne. This could be EP188 on 1st February, also listed as “crashing on take-off”.
__.02.43	B. Beaufighter	227		Pilot made a bad attempt during a night practice flight. Making no attempt to go around, the pilot ground looped at the end of the runway, writing off the undercarriage, damaging mainplane and one engine. Accident deemed the result of pilot carelessness.
__.02.43	B. Beaufighter	227		Same pilot made another bad landing during night practice flying, damaging tail oleo attachments. Pilot removed from squadron.
__.02.43	V. Wellington	221		Pilot taxied into another stationary aircraft at night time in conditions of total darkness. Aircraft was judged to be parked to close to runway, and pilot was cleared of any blame.
__.02.43	S. Spitfire	249		Only one wheel lowered as pilot was coming in to land. Attempts to raise that wheel and trying lowering both undercarriage were unsuccessful, and pilot was forced to land on one wheel only, with minimum damage to airframe. Pilot was commended by A.O.C., and commendation recorded in pilot’s log book.
__.02.43	S. Spitfire	229		Undercarriage jammed in the ‘UP’ position. Attempts to dislodge it, the pilot was forced to make a belly landing.
__.02.43	B. Beaufighter	227		Pilot overshot during a practice night landing. On opening the throttles the starboard engine failed to respond, leading to the aircraft stalling and damaging the undercarriage.
__.02.43	M. Baltimore	69		Brake unit burnt out during take-off. During landing, a slight swing couldn’t be corrected, which resulted in the undercarriage collapsing.

1943