Flight-Lieutenant Hornell was captain and first
pilot of a twin-engined amphibian aircraft engaged on an
anti-submarine patrol in northern waters. The patrol had lasted
for some hours when a fully-surfaced U-boat was sighted,
travelling at high speed on the port beam.
Flight-Lieutenant Hornell at once turned to the attack.
The U-boat altered course. The
aircraft had been seen and there could be no surprise. The
U-boat opened up with anti-aircraft fire which became
increasingly fierce and accurate.
At a range of 1,200 yards, the front
guns of the aircraft replied; then its starboard gun jammed,
leaving only one gun effective. Hits were obtained on and around
the conning-tower of the U-boat but the aircraft itself was hit,
two large holes appearing in the starboard wing.
Ignoring the enemy's fire,
Flight-Lieutenant Hornell carefully maneuvered for the attack.
Oil was pouring from his starboard engine which was, by this
time, on fire, as was the starboard wing; and the petrol tanks
were endangered. Meanwhile, the aircraft was hit again and again
by the U-boat's guns. Holed in many places, it was vibrating
violently and very difficult to control.
Nevertheless, the captain decided to
press home his attack, knowing that with every moment the
chances of escape for him and his gallant crew would grow more
slender. He brought his aircraft down very low and released his
depth charges in a perfect straddle. The bows of the U-boat were
lifted out of the water; it sank and the crew were seen in the
sea.
Flight-Lieutenant Hornell contrived,
by superhuman efforts at the controls, to gain a little height.
The fire in the starboard wing had grown more intense and the
vibration had increased. Then the burning engine fell off. The
plight of the aircraft and crew was now desperate. With the
utmost coolness the captain took his aircraft into the wind and,
despite manifold dangers, brought it safely down on the heavy
swell. Badly damaged and blazing furiously, the aircraft rapidly
settled.
After ordeal by fire came ordeal by
water. There was only one serviceable dinghy and this could not
hold all the crew. So they took turns in the water, holding on
to the sides. Once, the dinghy capsized in the rough seas and
was righted only with great difficulty. Two of the crew
succumbed from exposure.
An airborne lifeboat was dropped to
them but fell some 500 yards down wind. The men struggled vainly
to reach it and Flight-Lieutenant Hornell, who throughout had
encouraged them by his cheerfulness and inspiring leadership,
proposed to swim to it, though he was nearly exhausted. He was
with difficulty restrained. The survivors were finally rescued
after they had been in the water for 21 hours. By this time
Flight-Lieutenant Hornell was blinded and completely exhausted.
He died shortly after being picked up.
Flight-Lieutenant Hornell had
completed 60 operational missions, involving 600 hours' flying.
He well knew the danger and difficulties attending attacks on
submarines. By pressing home a skillful and successful attack
against fierce opposition, with his aircraft in a precarious
position, and by fortifying and encouraging his comrades in the
subsequent ordeal, this officer displayed valour and devotion to
duty of the highest order.'
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