In addition to this I had a new and very spectacular experience as the whole aircraft seemed to be completely electrified. There were huge luminous rings around the propellers, blue flames out of the wing-tips, gun muzzles and also everywhere else on the aircraft where its surface is pointed. For instance, the de-icing tube in front of my window had a blue flame around it. Electrical flowers were dancing on the windows all the time until they got iced up, when the flowers disappeared. The wireless operator told me afterwards that sparks were shooting across his equipment all the time and that his aerials were luminous throughout their lengths. I didn’t feel a bit happy and tried to go down below the clouds. ¹⁴

The mysterious blue flames were St Elmo’s fire, the phenomenon that had mystified seafarers during the golden age of sailing ships. The stormcloud through which they were flying had been so highly charged with electricity that it had begun to materialize in the form of a ghostly blue light around the aircraft.

Christie was not alone in seeing this unearthly sight; almost everyone who flew through the storm experienced the phenomenon. ‘Blue electrical discharges flashed between the muzzles of the guns,’ says Bill McCrea, ‘and our propellers looked like catherine wheels, as if a torch had been fastened to the end of each blade. From time to time the whole aircraft became shrouded in a blue shimmering light.’ ¹⁵Colin Harrison of 467 Squadron still remembers the sight with awe: ‘We were lit up in blue lights… sparks in all directions, jumping from one thing to another. And the props – there was a beautiful blue arc where the props were turning.’ James Sullivan, a wireless operator with 156 Squadron, remembers: ‘The lightning was sparking all along the fuselage and along the guns. It looked like an electrical aircraft!’ ¹⁶

When all around them was pitch dark, the effect of the luminous blue light could be unnerving – but it was virtually harmless. Much more dangerous was the ice that built on all the leading edges of the aircraft: if enough was allowed to accumulate it could destroy the plane’s aerodynamics so that it would literally fall out of the sky.

That happened to a Stirling of 620 Squadron, as one of its crew members recalls:

I have never been as scared in my life and never will be again. I sat there, petrified, then called to the skipper, ‘For Christ’s sake, get out of this.’ He started to climb more steeply but, as the Stirling’s ceiling was only about 15,000 feet loaded, we reached our maximum height and we were still in cloud. Suddenly, we started icing up. The wings of the kite were a white sheet. Great chunks of ice were flying from the propellers and hitting the fuselage like machine-gun fire. Then the port wing went down and we started dropping like a stone. After what seemed a lifetime, I heard a distant voice whisper, ‘Jettison. Jettison.’ I have prayed very few times in my life but this occasion was one of them and, thank heaven, someone was listening.’ ¹⁷

Ted Groom, a flight engineer with 460 Squadron, remembers a similar thing happening to his Lancaster:

The propellers appeared like huge catherine wheels, with ice forming and static electricity. Chunks of ice were hitting the aircraft, and the props and the control surfaces were being covered with ice… All this time we were losing height. This happened frighteningly quickly, and the pilot and myself were overwhelmed with these conditions. The rest of the crew wanted to know what was happening. Eventually, after losing several thousand feet, we were back in control again. But the aircraft was still in thick cloud. As we could not see any sky markers the decision was made to drop the bombs and return to base. ¹⁸

The only way to regain control of the plane was to lose as much weight as possible, as quickly as possible, to stop the rate of fall, so both planes jettisoned their bombs. It was also important to get rid of the ice since it could jam up the ailerons and elevators, making it virtually impossible for the pilot to control the plane. Ted Groom did this by desynchronizing the engines, which caused such vibration in the aircraft that it shook off much of the ice. It was a dangerous thing to do for any length of time, but in his case, fortunately, it worked.

In such conditions it was a battle just to keep the aircraft controls working. The flight engineers found themselves dealing simultaneously with several dangerous problems, as Sergeant Dennis Brookes recalled shortly afterwards:

The lightning was terrifying, flashing from one end of the kite to the other. Both gun turrets went u/s owing to ice and the lightning. We were thrown about by thunder, and the outer hatch was struck and wrenched open. Ice formed everywhere, and I was sweating to help keep the controls free… Great quantities of flak were bursting all around but could not be distinguished owing to the lightning. Both the compasses went u/s and very little control of the aircraft could be kept. It was impossible to keep the engine tempo up and the boost suddenly dropped off as the intake became clammed up with ice. Skipp, whom I was standing by, told us the controls were getting very stiff to handle and was far beyond the control of George [the auto-pilot]. We were all expecting the worst and were ready to abandon aircraft, when suddenly at 7,000 feet Skipp managed to pull her out of the dive and began to climb again, having lost 10,000 feet in a few seconds. ¹⁹

Tales of falling like a stone in such conditions were common. Sergeant J. Benny of 15 Squadron only managed to pull out of his dive at 4,000 feet. His squadron colleague, Flight Lieutenant G. Bould, was a mere 500 feet above the ground when he regained control of his plane; finding himself over Bremerhaven he immediately dropped his bombs and hedge-hopped back to the German coast. ²⁰

One Halifax of 35 Squadron paid the ultimate price for the horrendous conditions. Sergeant A. Stephen, the mid-upper gunner, had to watch helplessly as, within seconds, the aircraft’s wings and propellers had become coated with thick ice, then his turret.

I got out of the turret quickly to get my ’chute, for I felt we were not going to get out of this, and I was no sooner inside the fuselage than we went into a spin. The G force was very strong; I could not even lift my arm. I was in the centre section at this time and I felt someone kicking to get to the exit but he was pinned down like me. The spin seemed to go on for hours but, then, there was a crash and everything was thrown about.

After dropping through three miles of sky, Sergeant Stephen’s Halifax had crashed into German countryside. Miraculously, he and the flight engineer were still alive.

When I came round… it was daylight and I saw that I was sitting in a heap of wreckage and Bert, the engineer, was lying beside me. I could not move but I heard someone talking outside and gave a shout. They were German soldiers and they came and lifted Bert and me out of the remains of the Halifax. I remember cursing them for lifting me by the legs because they were fractured. The soldiers put us down in a field about a hundred yards from the wreckage and I saw that the part I had been in was just the two wings and the centre section. The target indicators were hanging out and the petrol tanks were right above them. How the lot did not blow up, I’ll never know. ²¹

Sergeant Stephen was the only one to survive the crash: his friend Bert died in his arms a short time later. The rest of the crew had been killed instantly.

That night at least four British planes were lost because of the ice: they crashed into the sea, or into the German countryside, their pilots unable to save them. ²²Another bomber was struck by lightning so badly that the pilot lost control. It crashed without reaching the target, killing everyone on board. ²³