In one of the most unlikely episodes in the war, Rudolf Hess, Hitler’s deputy and one of his closest companions, left Augsburg and flew 1,000 miles in his Me-110, before crash-landing near Glasgow. Discovering his disappearance, the Nazi Party issued a statement in which they said Hess was suffering from a ‘mental disorder’, and that they feared he was a ‘victim of hallucinations’. The following description by a farm worker suggests he was wholly sane.
Darkness was falling when Hess made his parachute landing on a Renfrewshire farm on Saturday night. The crash of his ’plane was heard over a wide area. People rushed to the spot, but were kept at a safe distance by members of the Home Guard, who little suspected the distinguished nature of their first parachute haul.
When Hess arrived over the area where he intended to land, his machine was heard circling for some time. Soon afterwards it dived to the ground, falling on a field of the farm. The airman came down on a near-by field, landing almost at the door of a ploughman’s cottage. The ploughman, David McLean, rushed to the door and found the airman busily divesting himself of his parachute gear.
In an interview Mr McLean said that the airman was limping badly, his left leg seemed to get a wrench when he landed. ‘He was a thorough gentleman,’ Mr McLean said. ‘I could tell that by his bearing and by the way he spoke. He sat down in an easy chair by the fireside. My mother got up out of bed, dressed, and came through to the kitchen to see our unusual visitor.’
When Mr McLean and his mother were visited last night they had just heard the news of the German radio broadcast of the disappearance of Hess. ‘We were wondering if it was Hess,’ they said. ‘There was some excitement in the kitchen when the military people came to take him away, but he was the coolest man of the whole lot.’
Mr McLean said that the German airman had a slight scar on the neck. When he smiled he revealed several gold teeth. The clothing showing below his flying kit was of good quality, and according to Mrs McLean he wore boots made of fine leather ‘just like gloves.’ On one wrist he wore a gold watch and on the other a gold compass.
Mr Mclean said there was no sign of his suffering from hallucinations such as the German wireless spoke about Hess. ‘He was perfectly composed though tired. He spoke like any sane man.’ He gave his age as 46.
He was completely unarmed when he baled out – and his ’plane also carried no bombs, nor had his guns been fired. Petrol was running low, and as a landing seemed impossible he resolved that there was nothing else for it than to bale out and let the ’plane crash into a field. Seconds after he had jumped from the ’plane by parachute the machine crashed with a roar on a field – killing a young hare. He was rolling on his back on the ground, extricating himself from the parachute gear when Mr David McLean suddenly stood over him and said – ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’
Without showing any signs of fright or anxiety to escape the airman spoke to him in almost perfect English. ‘He was limping badly. His left leg seemed to have got a wrench when he landed,’ said Mr McLean when recounting the experience. ‘He was a thorough gentleman. I could tell that by his bearing and by the way he spoke. He sat down in an easy chair by the fireside and my mother got out of bed, dressed, and came through to the kitchen to see our unusual visitor.’
‘Will you have a cup of tea?’ Mrs McLean asked him. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘I do not drink tea at night, thank you.’ He then asked for water and two young soldiers who had been attracted to the farm by the sound of the ’plane crashing, jocularly remarked – ‘It’s beer we drink in Britain.’ Hess replied – ‘Oh yes, we drink plenty of beer too in Munich where I come from.’
The ’plane, the wreckage of which was strewn around a field not far from the ploughman’s cottage, was guarded all day yesterday, and sightseers had to be kept at a distance.