If you have ever wondered about the details of the Munich air crash, either in terms of what it was like to be on board, or why it happened, this book should answer most of your questions. Stephen Morrin, an aviation historian, has produced a thorough analysis of the events of that fateful day, along with a critical evaluation of the actions of the aviation authorities and the football club in the aftermath. The overriding impression is that a lot of things could and should have been done differently.
Morrin begins by setting the scene with the story of the Busby Babes. Most of this material will be familiar to United supporters, but it is important to establish the context in which this tragedy occurred. He describes the development and recruitment of the young players whom Busby molded into a team that looked set to dominate English football for years to come. Special mention is given to Duncan Edwards, whom many believe to have been the greatest of all the ‘Babes’. Off the field he was obsessed with tidiness, earning him the nickname ‘Brush’, but on it, he was strong and fearless, a natural leader. Morrin suggests that, if events had played out differently, it would have been Edwards and not Bobby Moore leading England at the 1966 World Cup.
By the 1957/58 season, United was established as England’s top club. They had won the championship in the preceding two seasons, and at the first attempt, in 1956/57, they had reached the semi-finals of the European Cup. The Red Devils had been close to achieving the coveted ‘double’ in that season too, but a controversial challenge, early in the FA Cup Final, on their goalkeeper Ray Wood by Aston Villa’s Peter McParland reduced them to ten men. This proved decisive, and a game for which they were strong favorites narrowly slipped away. In 1957/58, United was battling with a strong Wolves side for the title, whilst maintaining their challenge for European honors and the FA Cup. The quarter-finals of the European Cup brought a tough match against Red Star Belgrade. The Red Devils edged to a 2-1 victory in the home leg but recognized that the return match in Belgrade would represent a stiff challenge. Their last league game before the trip was away at Arsenal, which turned out to be a thriller, ending 5-4 to United. When they returned, Wolves were due to visit Old Trafford in what would be a vital ‘six-pointer’.
To make the return trip to Belgrade as efficient as possible, United’s directors chartered a plane from British European Airways (BEA). The airplane in question was a 47-seat Airspeed Ambassador, which had been introduced in 1952, and was hence given the class name ‘Elizabethan’ in honor of the newly-crowned Queen. The captain would be 36-year-old James Thain, a respected pilot with the unusual hobby of poultry farming. His first officer was to be the even more experienced Kenneth Rayment, a friend of Thain who was just returning to work after a hernia operation. The two had flown together in the past under Rayment’s command. It was unusual for two qualified captains to be in the cockpit together, and in this case, they agreed that Thain would fly the outbound journey and they would swap roles for the flight back, with Thain effectively taking the first officer position.
The players on the flight to Belgrade were very conscious of the risks associated with flying in the 1950s. The captain, Roger Byrne, was always nervous on planes, and Duncan Edwards disliked the experience immensely. 11 months earlier, a BEA flight from Amsterdam had crashed at Ringway, the airport they were now leaving, killing all on board. They would all have also been aware that it was only 9 years since Italy’s great Torino team had been wiped out in another air crash. Nonetheless, this team, which had captured the imagination of a nation, along with its famous manager, several club officials and a group of football journalists, boarded the plane and hoped for an uneventful journey. The Elizabethan could not carry enough fuel to get to Belgrade, so a refueling stop in Munich was necessary. This accomplished, Thain and Rayment headed for the final destination, where the weather was very poor. They managed to land the plane successfully, making this the only flight to land at Belgrade on the day in question.
The United party was taken aback by the poverty and shortages which existed in Yugoslavia, although their hotel was pleasant. Despite the poor weather, the training facilities were also adequate, and when match day came, the team was quickly out of the blocks, surging into a 3-0 lead against an increasingly frustrated Red Star. The home side increased their intensity after half-time, and quickly pulled a goal back. From then on, the pressure on United increased. A hostile crowd and a somewhat nervous referee added to the tension. A soft penalty enabled the Yugoslavs to reduce the deficit to one, and with two minutes to go a deflected free-kick leveled the scores. Nonetheless, a relieved United managed to hold on to reach the European Cup semi-finals for the second season in succession.
The match in Belgrade was followed by an evening of socializing and celebrations. Respected local journalist Miroslav Radojcic spoke to several players and officials and resolved to write a feature article about Manchester United. To get started on this, he arranged to fly back to Manchester with the team. After quickly packing, he set off for the airport the next day. On arrival, he found that he had forgotten his passport, so he begged the airport officials to hold the flight for as long as possible. Nonetheless, when he returned with the missing document the plane had departed. At the time he was obviously frustrated, but later he would view this as a lucky escape.
Even without the fortunate Radojcic, five extra people were added to the passenger list for the return flight. These were: Verena Lukic; whose husband was the Yugoslav air attache in London, and her baby daughter; Bela Miklos, the travel agent who had arranged the trip, and his wife Maria; plus diplomat Nebosja Tomasevich. This still left nine empty seats, so the passengers had a wide choice of seating options. As had always been planned, the pilots were also changing places. With Rayment taking over for the flight home, Thain agreed that he would sit on the right of the cockpit, from where it would be easier to monitor the necessary instruments. This was actually against BEA’s regulations, which required the pilot in command (Thain) to sit on the left, a fact which would become significant later.
Morrin describes in some detail how the passengers were distributed around the cabin, with various groups playing cards to pass the time. When the plane reached Munich, the weather was still very unfriendly. The external temperature in the air was around -21 degrees Centigrade, which caused the pilots to use the Elizabethan’s anti-icing system. The flight landed on a very slushy runway and taxied to a stop at 2:15 pm. Refueling should have been accomplished within an hour, enabling the weary group to get on their way again. The BEA station engineer, Bill Black, supervised the refueling and noted that the wings were still warm from the de-icing applied during the descent, and no snow or ice was adhering to them. Rayment and Thain inspected the wings and noted that there was only a thin coating of snow which was melting rapidly. They agreed that it was not necessary for the wings to be swept and de-iced.
At 3:20 pm, everyone was back on the plane, and Thain and Rayment attempted to take off. Morrin recounts in detail what happened, but essentially the take-off had to be abandoned due to fluctuating pressure in the port engine. This problem was referred to as ‘boost surging’, an issue that had plagued the Elizabethans since they were introduced. It was believed to be caused by an over-rich fuel mixture and exacerbated by altitude, and Munich airport was more than 500m above sea level. Thain and Rayment knew that this was not something which massively reduced power, but as it resulted in unhealthy engine note, few pilots would be prepared to take off when it was happening. The generally accepted remedy was to accelerate more gradually, so this is what they resolved to do. A second attempt to take off soon followed, but they failed to prevent the boost surging, and the attempt was abandoned once more. Rayment taxied the plane back to the Terminal, and everyone was asked to disembark.
Thain and Rayment discussed the situation with Bill Black, and agreed that it might be possible to overcome the boost surging problem by means of even more gentle acceleration. They also looked out of their windows at the wings and concluded that sweeping and de-icing were still unnecessary. The condition of the runway was poor, with a substantial covering of snow and slush. Little attempt had been made to clear this, although a cursory inspection had been carried out. After 10 minutes in the terminal, a very nervous group was herded back onto the plane. David Pegg, Mark Jones, Tommy Taylor, and Eddie Colman sat at the back, hoping it would be safer. Harry Gregg, on the other hand, sat uneasily near the front. Finally, the fateful third attempt to take off began. An early boost surge was controlled, and the Elizabethan ploughed forward through the slush. Rayment raised the nosewheel, with difficulty, and Thain noted that they had reached V1, the speed beyond which it is not safe to abandon take-off.
In order for the plane to take off, it was necessary to reach V2, the minimum safe speed for lift-off. In this case, they needed to reach 119 knots, but they were unable to achieve anything more than 117. When the Elizabethan reached the furthest part of the runway, the slush was undisturbed, and its speed began to drop as low as 105 knots. Rayment and Thain were horrified to realize that they were not going to get off the ground. The passengers began to realize that something was wrong. Bill Foulkes describes: ‘three sickening bumps’ and explains how he strapped himself in tightly for protection. Journalist Frank Taylor recalls his horror as he saw the perimeter fence approaching, just prior to being knocked unconscious. Harry Gregg’s account is clearest, noting Catholic Billy Whelan’s claim that: ‘If this is the time, then I’m ready.’ He likens the feeling of progressing along the slush-covered runway to that of being in a speedboat until there were a crash and tearing of metal.
The plane had slid more than 250 yards over a grass ‘stopway’, and crossed a road. Rayment and Thain could see a house in its path and made desperate efforts to avoid it, but nothing worked. Eventually, Thain put his head down and braced for impact. The left-wing hit the house and broke off, spraying it with fuel. The house began to burn, but the occupants fortunately escaped. Meanwhile, the stricken Elizabethan continued to spin and slide. The tail section was sheared off in a collision with a garage containing a truck loaded with drums of fuel. The inevitable fire meant that no-one in this section had a chance of survival. The front section had struck a tree, smashing Rayment’s side of the cockpit, but eventually, it slid to a halt.
Thain was shocked but conscious, ordering the crew to evacuate. The unfortunate Rayment was injured and trapped, so they had to leave him initially. In the passenger compartment, Harry Gregg was dazed but conscious. He saw light through a hole in the fuselage and started to crawl towards it, to be greeted by scenes of carnage. When Thain saw him, he told him to leave the scene, as there might be an explosion, but Gregg heard Verena Lukic’s baby crying and headed back in. Miraculously, the baby was unhurt and he was able to rescue her. He then went back in and retrieved Lukic herself. After this, he started looking for his friends. He could not free Ray Wood or Albert Scanlon, but he managed to extricate Bobby Charlton and Dennis Viollet, both of whom were unconscious. Thain, meanwhile, found a disorientated Bill Foulkes sat close to where the plane had split and urged him to get out. Gregg pressed on, searching for Jackie Blanchflower. He came across a seriously injured Matt Busby, who had been thrown clear, before finally finding Jackie. The latter also had serious injuries but was alive and conscious.
The able-bodied survivors, along with Busby, Blanchflower and Johnny Berry, were taken to hospital in a battered VW minibus. A few others survived, but there were many dead bodies at the scene. A critically injured Rayment was eventually cut free. This had been the first fatal crash involving an Elizabethan airliner in its six years of operation. An inquiry would inevitably follow, and this was to be run by the German Chief Inspector of Accidents, Hans Reichel. Reichel arrived at the scene at around 10 pm, six hours after the crash. The weather conditions had led him to assume that ice on the wings could well have caused the accident, and a brief inspection of the plane showed him that there was indeed ice there- notwithstanding the fact that it was a freezing, snowy night, and the plane had been sat there for several hours. Thain never believed this explanation, preferring the theory that the slushy runway had prevented them from reaching the necessary speed. Nonetheless, the Germans were quick to issue statements putting forward ice on the wings as the likely cause. The director of Munich Airport, Count zu Castell, told a subsequent press conference that: ‘icing on the wings had been established beyond all doubt’. As Morrin points out, this was hardly surprising, as ice on the wings would be the pilot’s responsibility, whereas the condition of the runway would be that of the airport. Thain was suspended until the completion of the inquiry. He believed that the accident was caused by the state of the runway and the bizarre positioning of a house just beyond it.
United assistant manager Jimmy Murphy had missed the trip because he was managing Wales in a World Cup qualifier. He was naturally devastated when the news from Munich filtered through. Initial reports suggested that there were 21 dead, including seven players, eight journalists, and six passengers. Murphy visited the survivors in hospital, where an ailing Busby made it clear to him that he would need to keep the club going for some time. He brought Gregg and Foulkes home with him, but he knew that there were tough times ahead. The bodies of the dead were flown back to Manchester, and around 100,000 people lined the route as the coffins were driven through the city. Morrin writes movingly of this, and of the plight of injured players like Johnny Berry and Jackie Blanchflower, who would never play again. Duncan Edwards fought his injuries for more than two weeks but eventually succumbed. Busby would eventually recover, but Captain Rayment was not so fortunate.
Murphy’s rebuilt team remarkably battled on to reach the FA Cup final, where they were defeated by Bolton, and also put up a courageous performance in the European Cup semi-final against AC Milan, but ultimately their greatest achievement was to continue competing with pride in memory of their former colleagues. For the remainder of the book, Morrin focuses on the way those who survived Munich were treated, which was often not good.
Captain Thain had to spend more than a decade trying to clear his name. The initial inquiry was run in such a way as to make it inevitable that Thain would be blamed for not de-icing the wings, which was deemed to have caused the crash. Evidence from Reinhardt Meyer, an aeronautical engineer who was first on the scene, was misrepresented, and he was not called as a witness. No evidence was given as to the condition of the wings immediately following the crash. The report of the inquiry essentially blamed Thain for not de-icing the wings and noted that he had broken BEA’s regulations by sitting on the right. For anyone who has an interest in aviation, the story of how Thain searched for more evidence and witnesses to clear his name will make compelling reading. After more than a decade, an independent inquiry was completed. The evidence of Meyer, which Reichel had suppressed, was finally heard, and, along with additional witness statements and new research, this cleared Thain’s name. Slush, notice, was found to be the cause. It was not an entirely happy ending for Thain, as BEA sacked him for sitting in the wrong seat, and he never got his pilot’s license back, but he was no longer deemed responsible for the loss of life.
The surviving players were not treated particularly well by United. Gregg, Charlton, Foulkes, and Viollet were kept on, as they were fit enough to play. Scanlon and Morgans were quickly transferred elsewhere, without financial recompense, when their form proved patchy. The treatment of the more seriously injured players like Johnny Berry and Jackie Blanchflower, who would never play again, was the most disturbing. Within a year, they were both sacked and, with their families, thrown out of the houses the club had provided for them. In the late 1990s, the survivors pressed the club for a benefit game, to give some financial security to their dependants. Martin Edwards (whom Morrin does not describe in the most glowing terms) eventually agreed to arrange this. Unfortunately, it was then decided to combine this with a farewell match for Eric Cantona. Morrin describes the occasion in terms which make clear that it was a less than fitting tribute to the players lost and the courageous survivors. He then notes that £90,500 was deducted from the proceeds to cover Cantona’s expenses, leaving just £47,000 for each survivor or dependant. Whilst this is a respectable amount, Morrin clearly believes that it was less than it should have been and that the club did not handle this well.
Overall, this is a fascinating book, which offers a unique perspective on this infamous tragedy. Anyone who cares about the history of Manchester United should make time to read it.
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- Sir Matt Busby: The Father of Manchester United.
- Roy Keane: The Autobiography
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- Red, White & Blackmore by Clayton Blackmore, Wayne Barton, et al.
