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Jim Northrup Loses His Chocolate Bar

Jim Northrup completed his preliminary training at No. 4 Initial Training School (ITS) in Edmonton, where he was chosen to train as a pilot. He completed Elementary Flying Training School (EFTS) at Boundary Bay, British Columbia, then returned to Alberta to complete his training at No. 3 Service Flying Training School (SFTS) in Calgary. Trained as a bomber pilot, he was posted to England as a member of No. 415 Squadron, 6 Group on October 28, 1943. He eventually became a squadron leader and won the Distinguished Flying Cross.

In the following undated excerpt, Northrup comes to terms with a mysterious disappearance.

We had bombed Hamburg, Germany and were having a good trip. We had not had any fighter attacks and had steered clear of the searchlights and 88mm flack. We crossed the Kiel Canal and turned west to fly over southern Denmark and hit the North Sea, at the Isle of Sylt. I was flying my own aircraft (6U-I-NA I24), which was performing well and all systems were A-OK.

I started a fairly fast descent from 24,000 feet, as I wanted to cross the North Sea at 1,000 feet…in order to avoid enemy fighters. As I hit the Isle of Sylt at 6,000 feet, I was holding the control column with my knees and unwrapping a chocolate bar. It had been 10 hours since our last meal and I was beginning to feel a little gaunt. 

Just as I crossed the west coast of the Isle, a flack ship fired at us with everything it had. I dropped my chocolate bar and rolled to port as hard as I could. An aircraft flying a little above me ran into this fire and was blown all to hell. Then, my rear gunner told me there was a Me109 closing in on us. I put the aircraft right on top of the water. 

Another aircraft started laying chandelier flares right along our track and, as a result, it was nearly as bright as day. The 109 was still trailing us, but, as I was hugging the water, he was not sure of exactly where we were and declined to attack. At one point, my rear gunner shouted, "Get up, get up, Skipper. The fish are above us!" This went on for an hour until they finally broke off.

I climbed to 1,000 feet for the rest of the trip and landed at East Moor. I told my ground crew that there was a chocolate bar somewhere in the cockpit. It was never found. I was miffed at losing the it but had no ill feelings towards the 109 pilot for not attacking—I had put him in a bad situation.