The most unforgettable person I ever met (2)

In 1966 I was lying on a beach at Lake Malawi when I saw a rapidly-approaching speck on the horizon. As it came nearer I could see that it was a twin-engine aircraft.

I could also see that it was flying no more than 20 ft above the water.

At the very last moment, it climbed just enough to clear the hotel, dropped its undercart and flaps and landed at nearby Salima airstrip. I headed for the bar.

About 10 minutes later a stocky little guy burst in, charged straight up to me, shook hands and said ‘My name’s Des Plunkett. Have a drink!’

He was soon joined by the rest of the crew, a co-pilot, and engineer and 2 aerial photographers.

The aircraft was a 1936-vintage Lockheed Hudson that had once been the personal transport of General Smuts; it was from Hunting Air Surveys photographing the new road route running north to Tanzania (which was finally completed in about 1992!).

We had a bit of a party that night. I got to bed at about 3.a.m. I was awakened at first light by the sound of the aircraft taking off on a 6-hour photographic detail. The hangovers must have been historic but I guess they used the old WW2 trick of going onto pure oxygen.

Des had joined the RAFVR before WW2 and became a flying instructor. After 2 years of nagging he finally got posted to ops. He was shot down on his 8^th mission.

According to his DT obit, he bailed out and was taken prisoner. That’s not quite the way Des told it.

He said that two engines were damaged and they were gradually losing height. Also, in the mêlée they had become ‘temporarily unsure of their position’, as pilots put it when they are lost.

When they were pretty well at last gasp, the navigator reported that all that flat countryside could only be Norfolk and it was safe to make a forced landing.

Wrong! As they rapidly discovered they were in Holland and were put in the bag.

Des was sent to the POW camp of the Great Escape where he became map-maker, the part played by Donald Pleasance in that execrable film.

He volunteered to be number 13 out of the hole because nobody else wanted it. Everybody above 13 was shot by the Gestapo.

Des got away with a couple of others. Eventually they got across the Swiss border in a blinding snowstorm with Germans hot on their heels.

After walking for a couple of hours they were greeted with ‘Welcome back to Germany’ from a grey uniform. They had walked around in a circle! Des seems to have been cursed with lousy navigators.

He died in 2002, aged 86.