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On 15th January 1945, Halifax bomber LK 878 left RAF Topcliffe in North Yorkshire at 9.30pm, crashed into woodland near Sutton Bank and caught fire, all crewmen perished. On board were Pilot Flight Sergeant Geoff Walton aged 22, Flight Engineer Michael O’Sullivan and seven Canadian airmen. Geoff and Paddy ( as we knew him ) were members of our crew, seconded for the night to practice circuits with another crew, a regular practice at this Heavy Conversion Unit. We had originally crewed up with Geoff at RAF Kinloss on Whitley twin engine bombers but required a Flight Engineer when moving on to four engined Halifaxes in 1944.

Fast forward to year 2000, I am living in Barrowden, I am convinced that we attended Geoff’s funeral in Stamford and felt that I could not be this close without finding out. Having searched the churchyards in vain, I tried the War Graves Commission website and found that he was actually buried at Stafford. I then decided to search for the rest of the crew and turned for help to Ken
Ellis in the village who edits Fly Past, a magazine devoted to World War 2 aircraft. He kindly offered to place an advert in the mag searching for them. After several weeks a reply came from Canada from our Bomb Aimer, Bill Falconer, telling me that my facts were wrong and providing the right airfield and date. Meanwhile I also had contact from David Thompson from Thirsk, an aviation historian with particular interest in Halifaxes, but at this time he was unable to help.

In 19.. A family purchased Mount St.John, a country house a few miles from Topcliffe, and soon discovered that an aircraft had crashed in the grounds during the war and that a local villager, Dorothy Ward, had placed a plaque near the site and had planted a cross there each Remembrance Sunday since the crash. They decided that they would donate the site and arrange for a permanent stone memorial to be erected. Meanwhile David Thompson had traced Paddy’s family through an advert in a Limerick newspaper but had not been succsessful with Geoff’s family, I also tried the various service websites for the other crew members without success.

It was arranged that the opening of the site and dedication of the memorial would take place on Saturday 29th March 2003, I agreed to attend and five of Paddy’s relatives arranged to fly over from Ireland. The day dawned fine and bright and we travelled up from Rutland in reasonable time, arriving a 10am as requested by David. He had said we would be impressed, and we were! Mount St. John is a magnificent country house set on a hill surveying acres of beautiful Yorkshire countryside and the family had arranged the reception there. About 50 people attended, a number of various branches of the family, estate staff and villagers, representatives of several Air Force organisations, a representative of the Canadian Air Force, Paddy’s family and ourselves.It was a sobering thought that I was the only person present who had known any of those killed. The event was hosted by Chris, the owner, with great tact, genuine interest and affection.

After coffee we drove to the site and were really not prepared for what we saw. The actual area of the crash, on a mount in the middle of a copse of tall trees had been cleared, floored with bark and in the centre was a large stone bearing a plaque with the names of all the airmen who had died there. This brought the first of many lumps in my throat that I was to experience on that day. Two benches had been placed on the edge of the site, looking out over a magnificent vista of the valley. It was surrounded be masses of bluebells and wild garlic and the whole area exuded an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity.

The local Air Force Associations had provided three standard bearers and, after a brief introduction by Chris explaining how the event had come about, an RAF padre conducted a service of dedication, copies of which had been provided for all of us. A bugler then played, not the last post, but presumably what is usual for these occasions. This was followed by a lengthy fly past by aircraft from a local flying club, and, just as we were about to leave, a Hawker Hurricane appeared and gave a wonderful display, including some very low passes. Apparently this had been arranged quietly by members of the family without the knowledge of Dad, who had been a bomber pilot, a great end to a moving ceremony.

We then adjourned to the house for a buffet and another opportunity to circulate among the crowd of very interesting people, all of whom had some contribution to make to the occasion. The Irish family were extremely impressed and grateful for all the effort that been made on behalf of their uncle and I am sure there could not have been a more enthusiastic recognition of the sacrifice made by my two colleagues. I determined to make a greater effort to find relatives of Geoff so that they might share this experience.

When we visited Geoff’s grave we contacted a local reporter who gave us a mention in the local paper which resulted in a call from a family friend who told us they had moved to Bournemouth. David Thompson phoned a Bournemouth paper who agreed to do an article, but there was no result. After the dedication I contacted the reporter again with full details and pictures, she did a sensational half page spread which was seen by a family friend and I
received a call from Geoff’s niece who was in touch with five other nephews and nieces. I sent them all my write up of the day and photographs and they were very grateful. I don’t know if they will visit the site but I am pleased that I persevered. I have tried to trace the other crew members Bob May, Tommy Wilson and Bruce Perry but without success.

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