“Life Depends on a Silken Thread” – The True Story of Sergeant Albert A. Walton and His Irvin Parachute

From West Boldon to Bomber County

Albert Walton, a young man from the mining village of West Boldon in North East England, enlisted in the Royal Air Force in April 1941. Training as a Wireless Operator and Air Gunner, he mastered wireless communication, Morse code, and aerial gunnery before earning his sergeant’s stripes.

By October 1943, Albert was posted to No. 101 Squadron RAF, based at Ludford Magna in Lincolnshire — known as “Bomber County.” The squadron’s Lancaster Bombers were fitted with a top-secret electronic countermeasure system known as “ABC” (Airborne Cigar), used to jam and disrupt enemy night-fighter communications during operations deep into occupied Europe.

PART OF A FINE CREW

At Ludford Magna, Albert joined a remarkable eight-man Lancaster crew — British and Canadian airmen united in one of Bomber Command’s most dangerous roles. Under the steady command of Flight Officer Alan Lazenby, the crew quickly earned a reputation for professionalism and courage.

As an ABC Special Operations crew, their missions were twofold: to deliver bombs on target and to disrupt the Luftwaffe’s communications mid-air. The tell-tale antenna arrays on their aircraft made them prime targets for enemy fighters — and their missions among the most dangerous of the war.

TWICE SAVED BY SILK

During nine sorties together, the crew faced unimaginable danger. On two of those missions, Albert’s life would hang by a silken thread.

The first was on the night of 16 December 1943, infamously remembered as “Black Thursday.” Appalling weather over Lincolnshire claimed more airmen lives returning from Berlin than enemy action.

Flying Lancaster DV283, already down one engine, the crew ran out of fuel over Lincolnshire. At just 2,500 feet, Lazenby gave the fateful command: “Abandon aircraft!” One by one, all eight crew members bailed out successfully into the freezing fog — their Irvin parachutes opening against the darkness. Moments later, their empty Lancaster crashed at Blackthorn Farm.

Lazenby would later receive the Distinguished Flying Cross for his actions, and miraculously, every man survived. But their luck ran out just weeks later. On 3 January 1944, during another raid over Berlin, Lancaster DV269 was hit by enemy flak and set ablaze. Once again, Albert reached for his Irvin parachute — his only hope. He and three others survived the jump; four of their comrades perished in the crash. Captured upon landing, Albert and the three crewmates spent the remainder of the war as a Prisoner of War.

THE CATERPILLAR CLUB

After liberation, Albert and his surviving crewmates applied to join the Caterpillar Club — the exclusive fraternity of those whose lives were saved by an Irvin parachute. Albert’s original application letter survives to this day, recounting how his chute deployed inside the burning fuselage before he jumped.

When he landed outside Berlin, he discovered two large burn holes in his canopy — yet it had still carried him safely to the ground, his fall broken by the branches of a tree. Albert wore his gold Caterpillar badge with quiet pride throughout his life. He passed away in 1996 — a modest, unassuming man who seldom spoke of his wartime service, but whose story endures as a testament to courage and the lifesaving power of silk.


*This remarkable history came to light through the research for From Bomber County to Berlin – An RAF Airman’s Wartime Story, written by Albert’s granddaughters.

Their words say it best:

“There is no doubt whatsoever that we, the authors — Albert’s granddaughters — like countless others, owe our very existence to the Irvin parachute.”