At Lower House Farm Vowchurch, situated in Hertfordshire's picturesque Golden Valley, it was just another wartime Christmas. Farmer Ivor Davies had just finished his dinner and sat down to listen to the King's Christmas message on the wireless when he heard a strange noise outside. Opening a window, he peered out into the fog which shrouded the countryside, only to discover that visibility was so bad he could not even see the bottom of the garden. However, he could hear a loud hissing sound, which faded away after a few seconds.

Mystified, Mr Davies closed the window but had hardly sat down again when there came a knock at the door. It was a man who he recognized as a neighbor from nearby Cott Mill. "Where's that plane that's come down?" he demanded. Mr Davies replied that he knew nothing of any aircraft crash, but the visitor was adamant, saying that a crash had been reported and a search was under way. Mr Davies agreed to help, and soon after the men set out on foot in the direction of Peterchurch, with visibility still in the region of 20 yards.

Finding nothing, they then headed towards the hamlet of Dolward, about half a mile north-east of Lower House Farm. Still no sign of any aircraft. One of the men suggested that the aircraft may have approached from the west over Michael-church, and that perhaps they should switch their search to that area. After a fruitless search of the hilly countryside lasting 1½ hours, the party reached the village common at Vowchurch, a mere 200 yards south of Lower House Farm - and came face to face with the aircraft they were seeking. The Army and Police were already on the scene, holding back a crowd of jostling sightseers, the size of which astonished Mr Davies:

"Two hundred people must have arrived by that time - there were people from miles around who I'd never seen before in my life" he recalls. Another of Mr Davies's neighbors, George Cook, made his way to the crash across Andrew's Farm to find a trail of wreckage stretching over the Common for almost a quarter of a mile. He continued until he came across a flying boot, and fearful of what might lay ahead, exclaimed: "By Christ, I'm not going any further, his leg can't be far off!" The boot was one of several items of personal equipment found amongst the wreckage which quickly gave substance to a rumor that the crew had perished.
Surprisingly, the wrecked aircraft, a USAAF B-24 Liberator bomber, was empty, the crew evidently having discarded flight clothing in their haste to bale out earlier.

But the occupants of the Liberator were not in the surrounding area, nor had they baled out over the UK. The bomber laying crumpled on Vowchurch Common had just completed an amazing 300 mile journey from France with no one at the controls.

…The rear fuselage of the Liberator was practically undamaged, but it completely the driveway to Lower House Farm. Both the wings had been torn off, and the nose was badly crushed. Evidently the Army guard posted on the wreckage was somewhat lax, for souvenir hunters in the area had a field day. Neither did the soldiers prevent Mr Davies from making several unaccompanied forrays into the fuselage, particular the cockpit, where he seated himself, as he put it "Just fancying I was flying him, like". The force of impact had hurled two of the engines some distance ahead of the main wreckage, and they bounced over the top of a rise and rolled to a halt in the middle of a field. RAF personnel from Madley airfield six miles away, came to inspect the Liberator, and wasted no time in removing the chocolate and cigarettes stowed in the fuselage.

News of the Liberator's arrival back in England eventually reached 2nd Bombardment Division HQ, and a salvage crew from the 3rd Strategic Air Depot at Griston-Watton under Sergeant Smith was dispatched to remove the wreckage. Mr Davies put the USAAF crew up for the duration of their stay in his farm kitchen, and watched their activity with interest as they commenced work. On reaching the aircraft their first action was to remove their overalls and immerse them in an unused fuel cell before spreading them out to dry over a hedgerow - a rather strange but novel form of drycleaning! A considerable amount of fuel was pumped from the wing tanks, whilst all re-usable equipment, instruments, guns etc., were soon removed. A crane was brought in to lift the engines and other heavy sections onto a 'Queen Mary' low loader, and within two weeks the last remains of the dismantled B-24 had departed from the site.


*As written for 'FlyPast'