Imagine sending your child off to school on an ordinary Wednesday morning. There is a war going on, but this is Lancashire, far away from the battlefields of Europe. The children settle down into their classrooms, the teachers start the day's lessons and, nearby, servicemen stop for something to eat. It seems a day like any other during the war.
First Lieutenant John Bloemendal, pilot of the Consolidated B-24 Liberator “Classy Chassis II”, which crashed at Freckleton, Lancashire, on the 23rd of August 1944. Via Wikipedia/Wikimedia Commons – Public Domain.
Then the weather suddenly changed.
Within only minutes, a quiet Lancashire village would become the scene of one of the most heartbreaking accidents of the Second World War.
Today I want to discover more about the Freckleton Air Disaster of the 23rd of August 1944, because although this happened during the war, it was not caused by enemy action. It was a terrible combination of an aircraft, a violent storm and a village that happened to lie in its flight path.
At around 10.30 that morning, two American B-24 Liberator bombers took off from the USAAF base at Warton Aerodrome, near Freckleton. They were newly refurbished aircraft being taken on test flights before returning to operational service. One of them was B-24 Liberator 42-50291, known as Classy Chassis II, it was piloted by First Lieutenant John Bloemendal. With him were Technical Sergeant James Parr and Sergeant Gordon Kinney.
The flight was initially normal, but an extremely violent storm was approaching the area. Conditions deteriorated remarkably quickly. Heavy rain swept across the countryside, strong winds developed and visibility became extremely poor. The aircraft were recalled to Warton.
Bloemendal tried to return to the aerodrome, but as he approached the runway he reported that he was abandoning his landing and going around again.
Those would be among the last moments of the aircraft's flight.
At approximately 10.47am, the Liberator came down over Freckleton. Flying extremely low, it hit a tree and then buildings before tearing through several houses and the Sad Sack Snack Bar, a small café that was popular with servicemen from the nearby airfield.
Then part of the aircraft struck the infants' section of Freckleton Holy Trinity School.
The Liberator was carrying a large quantity of aviation fuel. When the fuel tanks ruptured, fire swept through the wreckage and part of the school. What had been an ordinary classroom only seconds earlier became almost impossible to escape from.
Perhaps one of the details I find most haunting is that a classroom clock stopped at 10.47am.
The children in that part of the school were very young. Thirty-eight children were killed, many of them only four, five or six years old. Two teachers also lost their lives.
There were further casualties elsewhere in the village. People were killed in the café and surrounding buildings, including civilians, British servicemen and American servicemen. All three men aboard the Liberator also sadly died.
Altogether, 61 people lost their lives.
It is difficult to imagine what the people of Freckleton must have experienced that morning. This was a relatively small community, which meant that the tragedy touched families throughout the village. Parents who had watched their children leave for school only hours earlier suddenly found themselves facing something almost impossible to comprehend.
And yet, amid the devastation, people rushed to help. Local residents joined British and American servicemen in attempting to rescue those trapped in the wreckage and deal with the fires. For the American personnel stationed nearby, the disaster must have been particularly painful. They had come to Britain to take part in the war, only for one of their own aircraft to cause such terrible loss in the community beside their base.
The exact circumstances that caused the aircraft to lose control have never been established with complete certainty, but the extraordinary weather conditions that morning played a major part in the disaster.
Afterwards, Freckleton faced the task of mourning its dead and remembering its children.
A memorial now stands in the churchyard of Holy Trinity Church. Its inscription remembers the 38 infant scholars, two teachers and civilians who died, while a plaque near the former school site records the full loss of 61 lives.
There is something particularly difficult about stories involving children during wartime. We often think of the dangers faced by soldiers, sailors and airmen, or of families living through bombing raids. But sometimes tragedy arrived somewhere completely unexpected.
Those children had simply gone to school.
I think that is why the Freckleton Air Disaster still feels so powerful more than eighty years later. Behind the number 61 were children, teachers, servicemen, neighbours and families whose ordinary Wednesday morning changed forever.
Had you heard of the Freckleton Air Disaster before? Perhaps you have a family connection to Freckleton, Warton or the American servicemen stationed in Lancashire during the war. If you do, I would love to hear your story in the comments.
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