| Weyburn newspaper article: "HOW WEYBURN MAN LOST HIS LIFE GRAPHICALLY TOLD. How Sgt. Wilfred Sweeney met his death in the North Sea when returning from a raid over Germany, is graphically told by a member of the Lancaster bomber in which he was the rear gunner. The letter was written by Sgt D.C. Hughes to his mother, in Bremerton, Washington and forwarded by her to Mr. and Mrs. F. Sweeney in Weyburn, knowing that they would be interested in their son's fate. The letter is as follows: Well mother I think I'll tell you something I was going to keep from you, but on second thought, you'll find out sooner or later, and I'd rather I told you than someone else. You know how people exaggerate on a subject. On the 22nd November we were on an operation [censored]. The trip went easy until we got to the target. The flack wasn't too bad but our trouble started [censored] bad weather conditions we couldn't maintain altitude. We came from [censored] down to [censored]. The skipper (pilot) George asked us whether we wanted to throw our equipment and guns to lighten the aircraft, thus gain back our altitude or keep everything and go down to zero altitude and fly it out, using our luck. We all agreed to go down and fly it out. Down we went to [censored] and all went well until got [censored] there the ground defence opened up at us and gave us a terrible raking - it was here that Wilf caught a packet, he was injured in the right leg with flack - the skipper told him to leave his guns in his rear turret and get first aid for his leg- but he wouldn't, he said he'd stick by his guns. It seemed a lifetime before we got out of the flack and searchlights. All was quiet, although we knew we'd never make England, we didn't have enough petrol. We were in hope that we'd make the North Sea and crash land in the sea. It wasn't until we were over the Zuyderzee Sea that trouble caught up with us. A fighter attacked us at 400 yards. Wilf opened up fire first and the fighter burst in flames and crashed in the sea. About this time we were over Holland and their defences opened up, boy I thought hell had opened up instead. By this time we were so low that the skipper and bomb aimer had to pull up for fear of hitting houses. The gunners took advantage of this low altitude and fired at searchlights and flack batteries. Between the two gunners they put more than twenty-five lights and batteries out of action. The aircraft was torn with holes. But none of us were hit except Wilf, our rear gunner, and he went on firing. We finally got out over the North Sea. Then the skipper told us to take up crash stations and prepare for ditching. Everyone went about his job as if it were only practice. I told the skipper how much fuel we had left and Jock (wireless opp.) had given base the spot in which we were going to ditch. Once in our crash position we sat and waited, the skipper sang out the altitude over the intercom 100ft - 75ft - 50ft - told tight- here. We hit the water once lightly, and the second time I thought the world had come to an end. God! What a crash! Then a split-second after the crash and there was a wall of water down on us. Out of my escape hatch goes the rear gunner, mid-upper gunner, and navigator, then myself. Well everything got a bit mixed. I was last out but Ronnie (mid-upper) went before me and he had to get stuck in the hatch. So there I was standing up to my knees in water, needless to say I was good and worried. But he finally got loose, when I got out there was only Johnny and Jack hanging on the aircraft. Then I saw Jack slip off in the water. I thought he was a gonner, and Johnny was a bit off his head, he was hunting for the dinghy but in the wrong wing. You see the big dinghy had already gone without us , because of heavy seas. So I went back into the aircraft and got the emergency dinghies, one of which I gave to Johnny and I inflated one for myself. Just then a big wave came and washed me into the sea. I was soaked to the skin but I was able to clamber into my little dinghy. I was about ten yards from the aircraft when she put her nose down and slid into the briny deep. I spent about and hour and a half by myself, all the time blowing like hell on my little whistle, hoping someone would hear me. Finally the fellows in the big dinghy heard me and paddled toward me. I spent the remainder of the time with them until we were picked by an R.A.F. rescue launch. We were first sighted by Hudsons who radioed for a launch. In all we spent fourteen hours in the water, wet through and through. The boys on the launch rubbed us down good and hard and put us to bed. They are the ones we thanks for not suffering from exposure. They did a grand job. Once ashore we were rushed off to hospital. I was the only survivor to come out of it without any ill effects, though four got bad coughs. Yes, we lost two of the crew- George the skipper and Wilf the rear gunner. George was killed on impact when we hit the sea or otherwise drowned before he had chance to get out. Wilf gout out alright but was drowned trying to get to the dinghy. As yet I still can't seem to realise them dead. They had so much to live for, both were engaged to be married. I'm beginning to think only the good die young, so I'm going to be a real devil. When we get out of hospital they (the RAF) sent us off on leave. They gave us ten days' leave, then we went back, stayed three days, and again sent us off on ten days, which I am on now. We go back this Monday and we are hoping to get a new skipper and get back to flying, and pay Jerry back in full for Wilf and George. Well Mom, we are trying to forget about our mishaps. I suppose it's all in a lifetime." |
