Can I just ask, because I know that people will come on [the radio show] about that, because of the sensitive situation that existed at that time, was there permission to fly over Donegal?

Yes, well there was an agreement between the two Governments that there would be a Corridor through the southern part of Donegal - Donegal Bay that is - into Lough Erne. That was the normal procedure. But as I say, through miscalculations and lack of navigational fixes, we were a bit further north than we should have been.

Was it that the equipment just wasn't on the plane to make those calculations?

In those days navigational equipment on board aircraft was - by today's standards at least - not very accurate. We did have certain aids but on this particular night, due to certain miscalculations we were certainly off course.

And was the weather part of that as well?

Oh, the weather was very bad - one of the worst occasions that I can ever remember in the whole time I've been flying.

I suppose if you're coming into Castle Archdale, you would nearly be low enough to see where you'd be going if the weather were all right?

Well the visibility was (due to the rain and the cloud) very low - and it may be difficult to explain to you. But an aircraft altimeter is a little bit like a household barometer, and has to be set absolutely correctly at the pressure at that point for a particular time for it to be accurate. If it's not set absolutely correctly for that particular point, you could be (depending on the occasion) either much higher than you should have been, or - in our case - a little bit lower.

Can you tell us about the actual crash then, and what you remember about it?

Well, the crash was just a crash, and I was not aware of the impact, although I was aware that a friend of mine who was in the front turret at the time, thought he'd spotted some high ground and at the end of his statement I knew that that was it - I knew nothing more and I woke up on the ground with rain on my face and banging and crashing and explosions going on. I was about 25 metres away from the aircraft at the time.

So you were thrown out of the plane?

Well I have no idea how I got there. No idea at all.

And what was the banging and crashing, was this unexploded munitions?

Yes, and fuel of course, and the most abiding memory that I have is the fin of the aircraft and the tail plane of the aircraft, like some huge burning cross - it was a most extraordinary experience. Eventually, I managed to make contact with another crew member who had survived, and he had been - during the time I must have been unconscious - back to the aircraft (or as near as he could) and he told me that nobody else had survived and that everyone was dead. So we sat on a rock and tried to get some shelter from the wind and the rain.

What had been your job on the plane - where were you when the crash happened?

I was the rear-gunner.

And that means you were at the back - I suppose that's the best place to be, is it?

Facing backwards it tends to take the shock of the impact.

So, there you were with your colleague - whose name was ?

Gowens.

And the two of you were alive - seven people dead. Was anyone around on the Blue Stacks or was it totally isolated?

We had no idea where we were, we sheltered as far as we could for the rest of the night.

You knew you were in Ireland didn't you?

Jim Gilchrist sits in the gun turret of DW-110, now in Glenties Museum

We knew we were in Ireland, but we had no idea precisely where we were. And when dawn came, as far as we could see we were in a mountainous area - it was totally mountainous - no sign of roads or buildings or people...just nothing but mountains and more mountains.

We decided that we would attempt to get help - at least tell somebody what had happened. We set off and after - it must have been about 6 hours of climbing down the mountain - we eventually began to see that there was a little cottage about perhaps a half or three quarters of a mile in front of us.

We had to wade across a stream, hardly a river, but when we scrambled up the other side we suddenly saw that there was a lady there with children all around her, clutching her skirts - she looked somewhat nervous, frightened - it's not surprising, as she could not have ever seen the people who were coming towards her, dressed the way we were (it was flack clothing) and matted with blood.

Her name was Catherine McDermott and she turned out to be - for me at least - the gentlest woman I've ever come across in my life. She was a saint of a woman - although she was fearful, she recognised immediately that we were in need of help and assistance and what little she had - which was not very much (she was a poor woman) - she shared with us. She was a widow and her children were around her, Joe then about 13 or 14 years old, John about 10 and a little girl called Sarah. It was an incredible situation. She was an incredible woman. I've never forgotten her.

I suppose at that first sight, she didn't know if you were British or German or what?

She couldn't have imagined who we were, obviously. I spoke later to her son Joe - they heard an explosion during the night and they must have had some idea that we were connected with that event, the more we talked to them. She [Catherine] hadn't very much English - she was a mainly Gaelic speaking lady. Her son Joe went off with Gowens (who had not been as badly injured as me) to a local Garda station and sometime later a rescue party arrived, priests, soldiers and so on and so forth...the rescue and the recovery of the dead began.

And you kept in contact with Mrs. McDermott for some time?

Not with Mrs. McDermott, no, but I'd been in contact with her family - especially Joe. We have been good friends for about 55 years.

And have you been back in the interim in that 55 years?

No, the very first time I went back was in 1988. I hadn't really had any reason to be in contact. I had very little knowledge of exactly where Joe lived - my life had gone off on a different plane - by then I had become married. It was as a result of reading a request that was put out in an ex R.A.F. magazine that I got into contact with a man named Gary Pentland, who had been researching this situation and not to dwell too long on the point - as a result of his endeavours, he asked me to come to Ireland and perhaps to unveil a plaque or memorial to my dead comrades. It was then that I was re-united with Joe again, after all these years.

There's a plaque on the Blue Stack Mountains?

It's cut into a rock - and it's a wonderful tribute to my dead friends.

And that's also the reason you've been back again more recently?

Well, yes, but partly it was also - I had been aware that some time after I had unveiled the plaque I had come into contact (through correspondence more than anything else) with a man Michael Gallagher, the father of the young lad Aidan Gallagher, who was killed in the Omagh Bomb. It had been made known to me that as a young boy of 13, he had helped his father and Gary Pentland to cut some rock which was eventually the spot where the memorial was fitted. I was asked whether I would return to unveil a plaque to Aidan, which I was very honoured to do - and I did.

So at the age of 76 you made it 2,200 ft. up there to that plaque, and Aidan's plaque is where? Is it beside the plaque to your colleagues?

Yes it is, and it's a fitting tribute to a lovely boy. Aidan's father Michael was accompanied by Michael Barrett, who was Aidan's best friend, and was with him when he was killed. Young Michael is a very brave young man - he should have been with a medical specialist at the time he was with me up the mountain, but he wanted to be there at the time to see the plaque bedded in - unveiled to his friend. He still has shrapnel in his body. He is a very courageous young man to have made that trip. It is a torturous climb.

That's a touching story of how two separate incidents become interconnected over that time. Jim Gilchrist, thank you for telling us your story