To mark the 81st anniversary of a dramatic event at 20,000 feet, we bring you the story of how Association member Norman Jackson earned his Victoria Cross for climbing onto the burning wing of his Lancaster, armed with only a fire extinguisher.
Norman Jackson: Once known, Jackson’s exploits were published in the national press.
“Schweinfurt!” There was an excited murmur in the operations room when the target was announced. lt was one of the most heavily defended of all German industrial centres. Flak and night fighters could be expected in plenty.
Sergeant Norman Jackson, however, wasn’t thinking only of the target. A few hours earlier he had received a telegram informing him of the birth of his first child, a son. He was counting the hours to when he would be seeing the baby and his wife.
This was his 31st operation as a flight engineer with 106 Squadron, based at Metheringham, Lincolnshire, and it was the last of his tour. A well-earned rest was due but, alas, he wasn’t destined to see his son for well over a year.
His tour should have finished after 30 operations but the rest of his crew needed to fly one more and he cheerfully volunteered to accompany them.
Normally they flew in “U” for “Uncle” but they’d had a tough time the previous night and “U” for “Uncle” was badly damaged. So they were given a brand-new Lancaster – “O” for “Oboe”. It was destined to make one operational flight only but it was going to be the scene of one of the most outstanding examples of heroism of the war.
The Lancaster takes a hit
Schweinfurt proved to be an even more hazardous target than Norman Jackson and his crew had expected. “O” for “Oboe” pierced the tremendous barrier of flak to drop its bombs right in the target area. The aircraft was climbing away and turning for home when, at about 20,000 feet, it was suddenly attacked by a fighter.
At once the captain took violent evasive action but the enemy scored many hits. A fire started near a petrol tank on the upper surface of the starboard wing, between the fuselage and the inner engine.
Sergeant Jackson was thrown to the floor during the engagement and wounded by shell splinters in his right leg and shoulder. His only concern was the safety of his colleagues. He said he could deal with the fire on the wing and obtained the skipper’s permission to try.
Holding on with fingertips
Schweinfurt, the target of Jackson’s fateful operation, was the heart of Germany’s vital ball-bearing production, and was bombed day and night by the RAF and the United States Army Air Force. © IWM
He paused only to push a hand fire extinguisher into the top of his life jacket and clip on his parachute pack. Then he jettisoned the escape-hatch above the pilot’s head and began climbing out into the icy, terrifying blast.
As he did so his parachute pack opened and the whole canopy and rigging-lines spilled into the cockpit. Undeterred, however, he edged his way back along the outside of the fuselage towards the flames. The pilot, navigator and bomb-aimer gathered the parachute together and held on to the rigging lines, paying them out as Sergeant Jackson crawled aft.
The roaring slipstream clawed at him and it seemed that he would be torn away from the aircraft into the blackness at any moment. He slipped – and hearts stood still. By good fortune he fell on to the starboard wing and just managed to grasp an air intake in the leading edge with his fingertips. As he fell the fire extinguisher was blown away. Somehow he maintained his most precarious hold but an even worse peril faced him.
The flames had been spreading rapidly and now reached where he was lying. Soon he himself was on fire – first his clothing, then his face and hands were severely burned.
A heavy landing
A Daily Mail artist’s impression of Jackson’s feat of daring, as reproduced in Air Mail alongside his story.
Unable to retain his hold any longer, he was swept through the fire and over the trailing edge of the wing. He dragged his parachute behind him through the flames and it too caught fire. When he looked up, he saw to his horror that it was burning in several places and only partly inflated.
He descended at speed, completely out of control, and landed very heavily. He sustained a broken ankle and other injuries. His right eye was closed through burns and his hands were useless. All this adding to the wounds he had sustained through shell splinters. He was indeed in a pitiable state.
In intense pain, he crawled for four and a half hours to a nearby village. He knocked on a door and was confronted by a very hostile elderly man. But the man’s two daughters showed compassion and tended his wounds.
Gestapo men arrived and took him to the local police station and then to the railway station. There, to his delight, he saw his navigator and wireless operator.
After he had been blown off the wing, the captain realised the fire could not be controlled and gave the order to abandon aircraft. Four of the remaining members of the crew had landed safely. The captain and rear gunner had died.
Sergeant Jackson was separated from his colleagues. He bore the acute pain and discomfort of a journey to a prison hospital with magnificent fortitude. And after ten months’ treatment he made a good recovery.
An act of outstanding gallantry
It was on the night of 26/27 April1944 that he was shot down. It wasn’t until the defeat of Germany, over a year later, that his heroism came to light until when he and his surviving colleagues were repatriated. His colleagues then wasted no time in reporting the incident.
On 26 October 1945, it was announced that, in recognition of his conspicuous bravery, the King had conferred on Norman Jackson – by then a warrant officer – the award of the Victoria Cross. The citation read:
“This airman’s attempt to extinguish the fire and save the aircraft and crew from falling into enemy hands was an act of outstanding gallantry.
“To venture outside, when travelling at 200mph, at a great height and in intense cold, was an almost incredible feat. Had he succeeded in subduing the flames, there was little or no prospect of his regaining the cockpit. The spilling of his parachute and the risk of grave damage to its canopy reduced his chances of survival to a minimum. By his ready willingness to face these dangers he set an example of self-sacrifice that will ever be remembered.”
Norman Jackson is the only RAF Flight Engineer to have won the Victoria Cross. Not that he welcomes being reminded of his gallantry. He generally dismisses questions about the incident by saying, “Oh! That all happened so long ago and in such a short space of time that I can’t recall much about it now.”
Norman Jackson’s medal group, on display in the Lord Ashcroft gallery of the Imperial War Museum.
Air Mail
This story first appeared in Air Mail magazine in 1958. Air Mail is the RAF Association’s quarterly members’ magazine, which covers all aspects of the RAF and RAF Association’s work from their founding to the present day. To receive Air Mail become a member and opt for Air Mail as part of your membership.
