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The
crash of Wellington W5653
The tranquillity of the Urris Hill, a stunningly beautiful
and rugged outline that nudges the townlands of Desertegney
and Leenan apart, was suddenly shattered in a most dramatic
and horrific fashion on Good Friday, 11th April 1941. A
Vickers Wellington bomber, returning from Convoy escort
patrol duty, lost its way in heavy mist and crashed into
the hills, killing all six crew members instantly. On the
same day that a famous fortress named Torbuck was making
world headlines at the start of an eight month siege, Alfred
Cattley and his crew of five perished at 3pm on the slopes
between Dunree Fort and the Gap of Mamore.
1940 was a particularly perilous time for Merchant shipping
as u-boats ravaged the British fleet, causing massive tonnage
loss and an unacceptable casualty rate. The Battle of the
Atlantic was decisively moving in Germany’s favour
and the Admiralty in London were more than a little concerned.
Squadrons of Hudson and Wellington bombers merged and embarked
on intensive training to rapidly expand RAF Coastal command.
Their brief was to engage in anti-submarine patrols and
provide air cover to the western approaches. One particular
squadron, 221, was formed at Bircham Newton on England and
on the 21st November, 1940, began a period of training under
Wing Commander Tim Vickers and Pilot Officer Par as Squadron
Adjutant.
The mongrel crew came from various units, some navagitors
from Blenheim Squadrons and they formed the backbone of
the outfit with most flying experience. None, however, had
any long-range overseas navigation in their CVs. A small
airfield at Langham was selected for night flying training
for 221 Squadron and some Wellingtons were wrenched from
the tight grasp of ex-bomber training units.
Most of these were in appaling condition but 221 had to
work with what was available. Things changed somewhat for
the better in 1941 and in March of that year, Wellington
bombers, equipped with the new Air to Surface Vessel (ASV)
radar arrived at Bircham Newton. On 1st March, 1941, 221
Squadron ‘B’ Flight were ordered to transfer to
Limavady in Co. Derry. ‘B’ Flight had the most
experienced personnel and the latest aircraft with the ASV
equipment. The first ‘B’ Squadron was commanded
by Squadron Leader, Ian Brolly, a former flying boat pilot.
Within a short time the Atlantic patrols undertaken by the
squadron marked a significant setback to the success of
the u-boat campaign. U-boat Command lost three submarines
n March and all were captained by high profile, distinguished
German leaders including Gunter Prien, the hero of Scapa
Flow.
Limavady airfield was still under construction when 221
Squadron arrived to team up with 502 Squadron. Only the
runway and perimeter track had been completed and work had
not even started in the technical buildings. The runway
was only 1,200 yards long, leaving little room for error
and temporary wooden huts were used for flying control and
the operating room. A farm outhouse was the flight officers
and crew rooms.
Wellington W5653 took off from Limavady on Friday, 11th
April 1941 (Good Friday) at 05-55 hours on what was scheduled
as a convoy escort patrol. She would have been on course
for the Island of Innistrahul and then turned west near
Malin Head and out into the Atlantic. Flying over Irish
airspace was never seriously worrying for British crews.
They knew that there were some rules but it never taxed
their conscience all that much. Most of them had heard of
the ‘Donegal Corridor’ airspace that facilitated
planes from Lough Erne to access the Atlantic by the most
convenient route. It was a dank day; low cloud predominated
as the ‘Wimpey’ set off on her protective mission.
Everything went according to plan but on the home journey,
the crew encountered some very heavy mist. The Wellington
over-flew Limavady air base at 2.35pm above cloud base and
was directed back using Q.D.M., the airfield reading a signal
from the aircraft and noting the direction from which it
came. The airfield then advised the plane accordingly. It
was a primitive system that only gave the crew a bearing
not a navigational fix. Limavady had no efficient ‘let
down through cloud’ procedure, and as most navigators
were poorly trained, many Wellington crews became hopelessly
lost over the Atlantic. The crew tried to get a glimpse
of the sea to determine their position, some breaks in the
clouds allowed them to get a marker but they hopelessly
miscalculated. They reversed course and guided again by
Q.D.M., flew towards Limavady, more in hope than accurate
navigational skills.
In all probability, the aircraft dropped in altitude to
attempt to approach Limavady visually. Lost and south-west
of the airfield,the Wellington flew over Lough Swilly and
towards terrible disaster. The unsuspecting crew, not at
all familiar with the local terrain, flew directly into
the Urris Hill at a height of 1200 feet, above Dunree Head,
killing all six crew members instantly. With the Urris Hills
rising at 1300 feet above the Swilly, the plane was a mere
100 feet from safety. Two detachments of Irish army soldiers,
one from Dunree Fort and the other from Leenan Fort began
an immediate search of the area. The men linked hands as
they made their way up the steep terrain because the mist
was so thick. A simple rifle shot was to be the signal that
the stricken aircraft had been located.
It was the Leenan contingent that came upon the awful carnage
first. Matt Kenny and Hugh Quirke were the first men at
the scene and both were shaken at what they saw. The wreckage
lay in two areas but very close to each other. Kenny saw
one man sitting against a rock and made immediately for
him. Seeing the incredible scattering of debris and parts
of the plane he thought that this was a miraculous survival.
On coming closer, he realised that the man was quite dead
and given that the Wellington impacted on the hill at 160m.p.h
this was hardly surprising. John Ferguson, a soldier at
the nearby Dunree Fort was one of those involved in the
search for the wreckage that day. The scene of the carnage
affected him greatly and for a long time afterwards the
persisting smell of smouldering heather only served to perpetuate
the memory of that shocking day. Some time later, two small,
through poignant items were discovered at the crash site.
Part of a wristwatch frame and a black R.A.F. uniform button
were found and given to the British for identification purposes.
It was not until the following evening that the bodies were
removed from the crash site and taken to the village of
Lenankeel were they were laid out in the local forge. A
short time later they were moved to Blockhouse at Dunree
Fort prior to transfer to England for burial at various
cemeteries. The six crew members who perished on the Urris
Hills were: Flying Pilot Officer Alfred Patrick Cattley,
R.A.F., aged 25 who was of Russian birth; Pilot Officer
James Montague, R.A.F.V.R, aged 24 from Buckinghamshire;
Sergeant (Observer) John Bateman, R.A.F.V.R.; Sergeant Wireless
Operator Air Gunner F.K. Whalley, R.A.F.V.R., aged 19 from
Leamington; Sergeant Wireless Operator Frederick Neill,
R.A.F.v.R., aged 22 from WEst Hartlepool and Sergeant Wireless
Operator Air Gunner Brinley Badman, R.A.F.V.R from Pontypool,
Monmouthshire.
In the aftermath of the disaster, many theories and opinions
were discussed, many theories and opinions were discussed
as to why the Wellington went so badly off course.
Tony Spooner, a senior 221 Squadron pilot with considerable
experience had this to say.
“As to what caused the fatal accident: it was difficult
to navigate with poorly trained navigators. Many Wellington
crews became hopelessly lost over the Atlantic without landmarks
and there were no Met stations for accurate forecasts of
winds. The Air Surface Vessel (ASV) for navigation was crude
and difficult to interpret accurately. It required almost
a sixth sense and some never attained this.
Limavady had no efficient “let down through the cloud’
procedure, which is why others and I had to invent one using
A.S.V. ground trainer. We were, in effect, a hastily assembled
crew, flying an aircraft no designed for our work and using
an early form of experimental aid about which we had been
told almost nothing. The miracle is that so few others came
to grief in that difficult terrain.”
Today, a cross with a simple but moving inscription part
constructed by Sean Ferguson, son of the late John, took
part in the recovery mission, marks the spot where the Vickers
Wellington W5653 came to grief on the clouded Urris Hills.
It almost seems an obscenity that in such a peaceful and
beautiful place, six young airmen disorientated by thick
fog and struggling to recognised a familiar landmark in
unfamiliar terrain, should die in such tragic circumstances.
Courtesy of the Derry Journal
August 2004
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