"OPERATION SKUA"
Dave Morris, Curator of Aircraft at the Fleet Air Arm Museum, describes 
a bid to retrace the events that led to the recovery of a unique exhibit.
(This article was printed in the ‘FlyPast’ magazine, in February 2005.)

At the Fleet Air Arm Museum, Yeovilton, Somerset, lie the remains of 800 
Squadron, Fleet Air Arm Blackburn Skua L2940. This aircraft force-landed 
on Lake Breidal, Norway, on April 27, 1940 after an air battle with a 
Heinkel He 111 over Norway.
In 1974 the remains of L2940 were recovered by a Royal Navy diving team,
headed by Lt Andrew Linsley, from the bed of the lake, where it had lain since 
the spring of 1940. 

In August 2004 a reunion, masterminded by Lt Linsley (by then RN retired) and 
Norwegians Are Bergheim and Oyvind Lamo, was staged to mark both events.
I was invited to attend the reunion as the representative of the Fleet Air Arm Museum,
and was able to meet many of those involved, including the German Heinkel pilot
Horst Schopis, who celebrated his 92nd birthday at the event. To add to the event,
I took along some intriguing evidence of the original incident, which had only 
come to light in 2001. 

FAR FROM ROUTINE.
On April 27, 1940, Skua pilot Captain Richard Thomas Partridge (Royal Marines)
and his telegraphist air gunner Lt Robert Bostock (Royal Navy) were on a routine
air patrol over Norway from HMS Ark Royal, with two other Skuas from 
800 Squadron, when they encountered a lone He 111, high over the mountains 
north of  Bergen.
Richard had joined the Royal Marines in 1929, serving on several Royal Navy ships 
before being embarked on the carrier HMS Hermes. This posting fostered an interest
in flying and he applied for flying training, which began in September 1933. 
By 1939 Richard had risen to the rank of Royal Marine Captain and had become
an accomplished pilot attached to the Fleet Air Arm (FAA). Now war was testing
this Royal Marines' flying skills to the full and his routine patrol was about to take an 
unusual turn. On the day of the patrol, groups of German bombers were on a mission 
to attack ships off the Norwegian coast, operating from Aalborg in Denmark.
Bad weather had led to Heinkel 3178, 1H+CT, piloted by Horst Schopis, becoming
detached from the formation. The Heinkel was now lost and vulnerable. Richard and
Robert attacked and exchanged fire with the Heinkel, both aircraft scoring hits on 
each other. During this brief combat, L2940's engine stopped. It was vital to find an
emergency landing site and get down safely. Losing height, and with no time to spare,
he had little option but to make a 'weels up' landing on the thick ice of Breidals Lake 
on the north side of the Vassvendeggje mountain, near the village of Grotli.
Several feet of ice and a good cushion of snow presented the only suitable site in this
rugged terrain and Richard made a successful landing.
Now on the ground in hostile, unfamiliar - and possibly German-occupied - Norway,
the pair had clear priorities; to destroy the aircraft and find food, help and shelter.
Using the signal flare pistol (from a safe distance) they fired into the fuel tank area 
of L2940 and left the stricken aircraft to burn, before setting out across the ice 
towards the east end of the lake to seek shelter at what appeared to be huts or a
farm, a couple of miles away.

HUNTER AND HUNTED.
On the south side of Vassvendeggje, a similar scenario was being played out.
Relieved to have shaken off his British adversary, Horst Schopis also faced the difficult
task of finding an emergency landing site for his stricken Heinkel. With the port engine
failing, poor handling, no radio and the knowledge that his airgunner had been fatally 
wounded, Horst lined up for a one-shot chance of getting the Heinkel down on the 
narrow, frozen surface of Lake Heilstugu. The Heinkel made a good belly landing on 
the ice, but its size and forward speed carried it up the deep, snow-covered bank at 
the lake's eastern end, where it finally came to rest. This was a feat requiring great skill 
and resolve. Horst a professional cavalry officer with a genteel and courteous disposition, 
had joined the German Cavalry in 1936. It was Goering's intention to form an air force 
of the elite which had led to Horst being parted from his beloved horses and steered 
towards service in the air.
He recalled: "We were given three days of selection training to see if we could become 
pilots. We were given mathematical and aptitude tests. We were also put in a revolving
centrifugal-type cage and then had to perform co-ordination tests. I did the best that I
could - out of duty rather then desire to become an airman. 
However I passed and three days later I was an airman, wearing a different uniform 
and being taught how to fly an aeroplane,"
On a bleak mountainside, Horst and his co-pilot, Josef Actor, and navigator, Karl-Heinz
Strunk, were faced with similar priorities to their Royal Navy counterparts. They also
had the problem of what to do with the body of Hans Hauck, their air gunner.
Burying their comrade in the snow was unacceptable, and the rocky, mountainous 
ground was frozen solid. The snow on the mountain was about 61/2ft (2m) deep, so
carrying the body to a resting place was also impossible. The only civilised option
seemed to be to leave Hauck with the aircraft. They arranged the body carefully inside 
the Heinkel in a manner which offered a degree of dignity and would help deter hungry 
mountain animals until a proper recovery could be arranged.
Horst recalls great sadness at being forced into this decision, but was later relieved to find 
out that the Norwegians had recovered the body and arranged a proper burial. 
A memorial stone to Hans Hauck can be seen on the hill behind the 'Grotli Hotel'.
Focussing once again on the immediate need to find shelter, Horst, Karl and Josef set off 
northwards down the mountain. The deep snow and difficult conditions meant that 
progress was slow, and it took them nearly four hours to cover the couple of miles to the 
lower reaches of the mountain and the eastern head of Lake Breidal. Here, to their relief
they came across a shepherd's hut - and discovered with some surprise that it was
inhabited not by Norwegian villagers but by Captain Partridge and Lt Bostock!

BROTHERS IN ARMS.
What happened next was remarkable in such a situation. Richard offered his right hand in 
friendship and Horst respected this. " The instant that gesture was made," he recalled, 
"I had no thought or inclination to reach for my side-arm".
Horst recounted how he had been attacked by what he thought was one of three 
Spitfires, and Richard immediately realised that he meant the Skuas! Unsure as to how 
the German crew might react to the complete truth, Richard explained that he and Robert 
were from a twin-engined Wellington bomber which had force-landed some miles away.
With hand signals and poor language communication, each side settled into an uneasy truce.
What was clear to both sides was that their air battles were over for the time being, and
survival in the freezing mountains was now their common aim.
They spent most of the night in the hut together, sharing coffee and muesli they found in 
a cupboard. Horst had had the foresight to rescue the first aid box from his aircraft and
used it to good effect, tending a shrapnel wound to Karl's arm. However, Richard was 
not slow to notice that although the situation was not hostile, all the Germans were armed 
whereas he and Robert were not. He was convinced that the stand-off between the two
crews arose partly out of respect for their joint situation and partly because neither knew 
exactly where they were, either in Allied Norway or German-occupied Norway.
After a while, Partridge convinced the Germans that he should scout around outside, to
look for more food and survey the immediate area.
No objections were raised, so he left Robert at the hut and went out to explore. 
A short while later, he returned with biscuits and cigarettes he found in a small abandoned 
hotel nearby. This offering was appreciated by everyone and helped to extend the
general feeling of friendship. A little later Richard suggested going out again, this time with 
Robert, for a further look around. Again there seemed to be no objection. The pair went
to the hotel, a move which gained them time to think, rest and study their map, away from 
their enforced German acquaintances.

TRAGIC TWIST.
By daybreak the Skua crew were hoping to slip away from the Germans, using old skis 
that they had found to reach the local village on their own. They were just planning to
leave when the German crew unexpectedly turned up. This time they were more suspicious,
and reluctant to let Richard and Robert wander too far on their own. The resourceful  
Horst had used wood from the cupboard in the hut to create make-shift snow shoes for 
his crew, attaching them to their feet with lengths of disused telephone wire. These
enabled the Germans to keep pace with the two British airmen, and it was agreed that they 
would all set out for the village together.
No sooner had they set off when they were spotted by a ski patrol from the local authority, 
which signalled them to halt, and during this encounter a tragic, freak accident occurred.
One of the armed ski patrol officers slipped on his skis and accidentally discharged his rifle
as he fell over onto the snow, killing Karl-Heinz Strunk.
To make matter worse, at that moment a lone He 111 machine-gunned the whole party 
as it flew low down the valley. No further casualties were sustained but the clear 
implication was that the German advance was now dangerously near. The distraught 
Horst and his surviving crewman Josef were taken into custody by the ski patrol.
The area was still under Norwegian control, but for how much longer? Meanwhile,
Richard and Robert accompanied the patrol to the village to find help, which appeared
in the form of a local  man, Sevald Grotli, who ran the staging post on the mountain pass.
He took in the two airmen, whilst notifying and waiting for the Norwegian authorities to 
arrive, an act that potentially placed him in great personal danger.
Early in 1940 German forces advanced swiftly into Denmark and Norway, and the extent
of German-occupied territory in these two countries altered daily. Norway was allied with 
Britain and so welcomed the support it was shown during the German occupation.
With help from the Norwegian authorities and the resistance forces, the Skua crew were
repatriated and rejoined their squadron. Horst was taken to the nearby town of Stryn,
were the authorities had converted a farm barn into a temporary prison. In days he was
on his way to Britain, arriving in Scotland before being moved to Cockfosters, London, 
for interrogation. From there he was sent to Canada, where he remained a prisoner of 
war until 1946.


LAKESIDE REUNION.
In 1974 Lt Andrew Linsley headed an expedition by an Royal Navy diving team which
successfully recovered the Skua from the depths of Lake Breidal. 
L2940 returned to the UK after 34 years, and became a unique aircraft in the FAA 
Museum's steadily-growing collection.
Thirty years later, in August 2004, Andrew, along with Oyvind Lamo (who had given
much assistance to the 1974 diving team) and Are Bergheim (grandson of Sevald Grotli
and current owner of 'Grotli Hotel') staged a reunion at the lake. Horst Schopis was 
invited to return to Grotli, his first visit since 1940.
Captain Richard Partridge had died in 1990, but was represented by his son Simon, for
whom the event was a moving experience. However, Horst Schopis and Richard Partridge
(then retired as a Royal Marine Major DSO) had met again at the FAA Museum in 1977.
In true Norwegian style, Are and Oyvind along with their friends and colleagues,
organised a reunion that missed out no one. Each stage of the original encounter between
Horst and Richard was reconstructed in a tasteful manner that enabled all who attended 
to gain a full appreciation of events 64 years previously.
The weekend began with a cordial welcome at the 'Grotli Hotel' where Tore Fauske
gave an eye-witness account of the attack on the German battleship Köningsberg.
George Baldwin  a former FAA Skua pilot, provided a fascinating insight into operating 
the type. Representing the Norwegian Aviation Museum in Bodø, Birger Larsen,
Kjell Fransplass and Klas Gjolmesli brought their partly-restored Skua cockpit section
as a centrepiece to the weekend's activities. Many interesting photographs and objects
belonging to people connected with the events of 1940 were on view and a good number 
of those who had made up the 1974 Royal navy diving team also attended.
A helicopter was provided by a local operator to fly Horst and Simon Partridge around 
the respective final routes of the Heinkel and the Skua - an experience both men found 
very moving.

" HORST REFLECTED ON THE IRONY THAT BEING SHOT DOWN BY
  RICHARD PARTRIDGE HAD ACTUALLY SAVED HIS LIFE..."
In a quiet moment on the mountainside, Horst reflected on the irony that being shot down 
by Richard Partridge had actually saved his life - all the other Heinkel pilots and crews 
from his former squadron had perished, either in the battle of Britain or in the Russian
Campaign. The Heinkel had still been fairly intact when he left it in 1940, but later in the
war the Germans, who regarded the stricken aircraft as an embarrassment, had had it 
blown up. Some wreckage still survives at the site. Moving northwards down the mountain 
and retracing the steps of the German crew in 1940, the reunion visitors arrived at the site 
of the mountain hut which had provided shelter for the two opposing crews.
The hut was long gone, but in its place we found that the Norwegians had put out a table, 
two chairs and a flask of coffee for Horst and Simon Partridge to share while they 
reflected on the events of the past.
Nearby was the slipway by the lake that enabled the Royal Navy to land the wreckage
of the Skua in 1974, and the crew who had formed that team exchanged their personal 
memories. Theirs had not been an easy task and the freezing water, wet mountain 
conditions and limited equipment available made their efforts all the more laudable.
The danger into which those divers put themselves to rescue the historic airframe should
not be underestimated. Once out of the water, their daily routine of drying clothes and 
warming themselves up after a diving session was in itself a survival exercise, and would 
not have been possible without help from the villagers.
Later that day we visited the small hostel nicknamed the 'Grotli Hilton' by the diving team,
which used it as its base in 1974, and also the house that once belonged to Sevald Grotli
(where Partridge and Bostock stayed).
The route back to the 'Grotli Hotel', via the old road to Stryn, followed the route taken by 
the Norwegian ski patrol in 1940, and Are Bergheim was able to explain how the tragic 
death of Karl-Heinz Strunk occurred. Fittingly, this concluded with a visit to the memorial 
stone on the mountain behind the hotel, where Horst paid his respects to his two 
fallen comrades.

BALLISTICS.
So what of the new evidence that helps to conclude this story? Credit for this has to go to 
Klas Gjolmesli, a volunteer research officer from the Norwegian Aviation Museum in Bodø.
His specialist area is the Blackurn Skua and for many years now he has visited the FAA 
Museum to work with me on a number of Skua-related projects.
On his most recent visit, Klas took detailed notes and photographs of the lower areas of the 
Skua's Bristol Perseus radial. Much of this area of the engine was still in the same condition 
as it was when recovered in 1974. In particular, Klas was looking at the main oil feed pipe
to the lower part of the engine and at what appeared to be an imperfection mid-way along 
the branch of the pipe. This was still packed with congealed oil and mud from the lake bed. 
As we carefully cleaned away some of this debris, we were amazed to find that the 
'imperfection' was clearly a bullet hole!
At last we were able to ascertain how L2940 had been brought down by Horst and his 
crew - via a clean shot, which by chance, went through this vital oil feed.
At the reunion, photographs of the pipe were presented to Horst as a most unusual 92nd 
birthday present. Horst simply could not believe it. After so many years of wondering
how he had brought down the Skua, he now knew.
The final twist in the tail came as Klas and I were studying the site of Horst's wrecked 
Heinkel came to rest. Again the eagle-eyed Klas spotted a spent brass cartridge case,
obviously a discharged round from the Heinkel gunner's position. Of all the bullets fired 
at L2940 on that wartime morning, one had to be from the bullet that hit the oil pipe on 
Captain Partridge's Skua. Could it have been this one?
Blackburn Skua L 2940 can be seen on display at the Fleet Air Arm Museum, part of 
an exhibition portraying the Royal Navy salvage exercise from 1974.

Many thanks again to all of those who played a part in Operation Skua, then and again 
in organising the 2004 reunion.

Dave.