Arthur's Letter to Mrs Heckendorf

Arthur's Letter to Mrs Heckendorf

The story of events the night Mrs Heckendorf's son was shot down and died.

1945-08-20

Three printed sheets

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Arthur’s Letter

20th., August 1945

“Dear Mrs Heckendorf,

May I introduce myself; I was your son’s wireless operator, Arthur Hope . . . .

This letter is of our last bombing trip over Europe. I thought you might like to know what happened at the last moments of that fateful trip and thus relieve any doubts or anxieties you may be experiencing.

As you know, ‘twas on the 20th Dec ’43; the target Frankfurt-au-Main when we gathered together at briefing. I could sense that every member of our “smashing” crew, if I may use that term to describe them, felt as I did; namely that on this trip, something was going to happen. But, Mrs Heckendorf, may I add that not one backed down for that trip. They were thinking as I did, if anything was coming, it would come to all of us as a crew, which speaks a lot for the unity and feeling which existed among us . . . ., a crew who had met, worked, played, joked and fought together. I do not mention the word “quarrelled” as there was never any difference of opinion among us. Therefore it was as we all wanted it; if anything happened, we were all together, ready for anything.

The trip was the same as any other, uneventful, until we were approaching the target and prepared for the bomb run. As wireless operator, I looked out always whenever my work permitted. An extra pair of eyes was always helpful, especially neat [sic] the target. I looked out of my left hand side window and there, silhouetted against the flares, was a Junkers 88 climbing to attack us from below. I informed the skipper and told him to “get weaving”. Needless to say, he did. Never will I forget that moment. Three shells hit us and then he was away. Our pilot was, all this time, doing all he had been taught and doing it really magnificently.

I then had to attend my wireless set. The next I can recall was, on looking out once again, the enemy was attacking us from astern and his tracer was streaming through the wind, setting the port engines and wing tanks on fire. I saw that there nothing I could do; that it was all up to the skipper and gunners who were fighting back with all they had.

Again I had to attend to the set . . . . the next thing “Heck” flashed me on the call light, saying “Abandon aircraft!” I then clipped my chute on and went to the rear of the aircraft. As far as I know, nobody had been injured to that time. I clambered . . . .

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I clambered over the main spar and was trying to clamber over the second spar so that I could get to the rear exit when the aircraft went into an uncontrolled spiral dive. In such a dive, the gravity pressure is so great that you can hardly move. I found that I could not lift my feet from the floor. So I just sat on the rest bed and stared at the incendiaries which I could see through the ripped floor of the aircraft. They were well alight. My thoughts at that moment were “Well, when the cookie goes off, it will be quick anyway . . . . I had no means of knowing what the rest of the crew were doing or how they were faring as my headset was off, preparatory to bailing out.

My last impression was of the aircraft illuminated inside by the blazing incendiaries, every rivet was indelibly imprinted on my mind and of placing my hand on the grip of my chute. Then I was blown out, losing consciousness. I woke to hear a terrific explosion as the aircraft exploded with full bomb load above me. I found myself swinging on the harness beneath the opened canopy of my chute.

I remember watching one tail fin hurtling down and of thinking, if that hits my chute it will make a mess. I must have been blown out when the petrol tanks exploded. At least, that is what the bomb aimer and I concluded when we met later. The force of the explosion must have pulled my hand on the grip, thus causing the chute to open as I don’t remember opening it myself.

Following that tail fin down into the middle of the target, I can only dimly recall what looked like to me, a puff of white smoke, but which later turned out to be the bomb aimer’s parachute below me. No other chutes were visible. So I concluded the rest of my magnificent crew had paid the supreme sacrifice . . . . I find consolation inasmuch that their glorious but tragic death was instantaneous, absolutely, as the aircraft exploded with the full bomb load aboard. Any change of their suffering was very remote, it was so quick just like a snap of your fingers. No suffering or agony of bullet torn flesh but the death we all wanted, if it had to come.

Your son, Mrs Heckendorf, to quote a phrase I have told my father, “if I can be half the gentleman my pilot was, in my future life, I shall be happy!” How happy we all were under his leadership and how highly we regarded him, not only as a good skipper but as a damned fine fellow. I am saying this from my heart Mrs Heckendorf, I feel honoured to have met such a man. I know I shall never ever meet another such fellow who has the sterling qualities, human understanding, firmness and strength of character my skipper had . . . . I do miss him.

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“. . . . I regret that my first letter to you has to be of such a sad nature . . . . But I felt I just had to write. I regret the delay in writing after being repatriated but I have visited most of the relatives of the rest of the crew . . . . Last minute conversations I cannot remember. At the time they would have been about the operation that night for at such a time, all other matters are forgotten . . . . The memory of such a fellow I will carry with me all my life for he has set me a standard and example to live up to. I hope that, when I do go, we shall meet high above the clouds, the clouds over which we had flown so often together for so long. I apologise if I have rekindled sad memories and also if I have done the wrong thing by writing. However, if there are any questions you would like me to answer, I shall do my utmost to do so. “To quote a line or two from David Master’s book “So Few” – “Once a pilot has taken off, he is the captain of his ship and of his own soul; in no other sphere is it possible for individualism and initiative to shine so brilliantly”.

I send my heartfelt and sincere wishes to all of you.

From Arthur.