WW2 airman fell 18,000 feet, survived and was almost shot as a spy

Nicholas Alkemade’s remarkable story doesn’t end there

Nicholas Stephen Alkemade was born in Norfolk, UK, in 1922. When World War 2 broke out he became a rear gunner on Avro Lancaster bombers with 115 squadron. His crew had successfully completed 14 missions when on the night of the 24th March 1944, they were ordered to attack Berlin.

Their aircraft was nicknamed Werewolf and was one of 811 planes that were to attack the German capital that night. Alkemade and his six crewmen carried out their mission as planned but on the return flight, they encountered strong winds that unfortunately blew them southward, toward the Ruhr, where there was a large number of anti-aircraft defences.

The Werewolf is shot down and Alkemade jumps

The luck that had been with them for the 14 previous missions didn’t hold. Just before midnight, the Werewolf was attacked by a Junkers fighter. The bomber’s wing and fuselage were hit and immediately burst into flames. Alkemade, who was the rear gunner, tried to shoot back but already the windows of his turret had been blown out and the fire was starting to engulf the entire rear of the plane.

The pilot, James Newman, knew they were done for and the plane was going down. He gave the order to take their parachutes and jump to safety. There was not enough room in the rear gunner position to store a parachute, so Alkemade opened the door that separated him from the rear of the plane to access the storage locker that held his parachute.

It was then he began to realize how much trouble he was in. The entire back section of the plane was on fire and to his dismay, so was his parachute. The heat was immense. Almost immediately his oxygen mask began to melt and he felt his hands becoming engulfed in flames. He shut the door but the raging fire began to burn hotter.

Nicholas Alkemade was out of options. As he recounted later:

“I had the choice of staying with the aircraft or jumping out. If I stayed I would be burned to death — my clothes were already well alight and my face and hands burnt, though at the time I scarcely noticed the pain owing to my high state of excitement…I decided to jump and end it all as quick and clean as I could. I rotated the turret to starboard, and, not even bothering to take off my helmet and intercom, did a back flip out into the night. It was very quiet, the only sound being the drumming of aircraft engines in the distance, and no sensation of falling at all. I felt suspended in space. Regrets at not getting home were my chief thoughts, and I did think once that it didn’t seem very strange to be going to die in a few seconds — none of the parade of my past or anything else like that.” Nicholas Alkemade (quote source here).

He fell 18,000 feet. The Werewolf exploded above him and while he plummeted toward the ground, Alkemade lost consciousness.

A few hours later, much to his own surprise, he woke up. He was lying on his back on a pile of snow and could see the stars above him through the canopy of some pine trees.

Gingerly, Alkemade moved his arms and legs. Remarkably, he seemed unhurt. As he lay there, he realized to pines above him were young with supple, bendy branches. They must have slowed him down enough so that when he landed in a pile of snow beneath, the impact hadn’t been too hard.

The first thing he did was to smoke a cigarette and reflect on his good fortune. When he finally stood up, he found he had a twisted knee and that at some point his boots had come off, presumably in the trees above. 20 yards from where he had landed was an open area, devoid of snow. If he had landed there, he would have died.

Unfortunately, Alkemade couldn’t walk due to his injured leg. He discarded his unused parachute harness and blew his distress whistle. Soon, some local Germans found him and he ended up in a hospital where his burns and cuts were looked after. He had survived and was remarkably unscathed.

Then the Gestapo arrived.

Alkemade is accused of being a spy

By all rights, Alkemade was a prisoner of war. This would have seen him sent to a prison camp. However, when the Gestapo interrogated him, they asked where his parachute was. He said he didn’t have one, had jumped from the plane and had just been lucky. Understandably, the Gestapo didn’t believe him. They accused him of burying the parachute and being a spy. This would mean a death sentence.

The interrogators kept at it, finding it hard to believe that someone could survive what Alkemade claimed but he stuck to his story. A search of where he was found led to the Germans finding his discarded harness, which had clearly not been used. To further corroborate his story, the wreckage of the Werewolf was found 20 miles away. In the shredded and burned remains of the aircraft, the Gestapo found Alkemade’s parachute with the ripcord and cables still wrapped up tight in the container.

Finally, they were convinced. Alkemade was now a prisoner of war. The Germans were impressed and even gave him a commemorative certificate that stated Alkemade had indeed fallen 18,000 without a parachute and survived. He was sent to Stalag Luft III POW camp in Poland.

The ‘Long March’, the fate of the Werewolf crew and the end of the war

Nicholas Alkomade’s story gave him celebrity status. He received extra cigarette rations and another prisoner, Flight Lieutenant Bennet Kenyon, drew a portrait of him.

The war was coming to an end and the Russians were advancing. To keep Prisoners Of War away from the Russians, which would have led to the prisoners being liberated, tens of thousands of POWs, including Alkomade, were forced to march west. They faced blizzards, exhaustion and starvation. Tragically, hundreds died before they were eventually freed and the war came to a close.

Alkomade had survived.

Of the seven men on the Werewolf that night, only three made it through. Alkomade, the rear gunner; Sergeant John Cleary, the navigator; and Sergeant Geoffrey Burwell, the wireless operator. The other members of the crew all sadly lost their lives.

After the war, Nicholas Stephen Alkemade moved to Loughborough with his wife and children. He lived a good life and passed away in 1987.