Keeper Harry Gregg handed me a baby... he was a hero
Sixty years after the Munich air disaster, heroic stewardess Rosemary Cheverton tells PAUL BYRNE how, barefoot in the snow, she helped save lives
SIXTY years ago a shocked young air stewardess stepped gingerly from the wreckage of a shattered plane in Munich. Rosemary Cheverton had miraculously escaped unscathed from the crash which claimed 23 lives, including eight of Manchester United’s “Busby Babes”.
Today she is believed to be one of only six remaining survivors from the fateful flight, BEA 609.
The visions she saw of bodies scattered in the snow on the runway are as vivid as they were on February 6, 1958.
Rosemary, 85, has rarely spoken of the tragedy. Even now she fails to mention her own heroism in the horror as she and fellow stewardess Margaret Bellis helped survivors.
One report from the time said they “worked under the threat of explosions caused by the fires – and they tackled small fires as they hauled people clear”.
Manchester United defender Bill Foulkes said: “The air hostesses were magnificent. One was running about without her shoes in the snow but didn’t seem even to notice her freezing feet.” That stewardess was Rosemary.
She was 25 and working for British European Airways when she joined the crew of six on “Lord Burghley”, the Elizabethan-class Airspeed AS-57 Ambassador taking United to Yugoslavia for a European Cup quarter-final with Red Star Belgrade.
“When I knew I was going to be a stewardess on a plane with the football team I was, you know, a bit shy about the thought of it,” she says.
“But they were such well behaved, super young men.
“We picked them up in Manchester and took them to Yugoslavia. We stayed and watched the football game, in the freezing cold.
“They were very nice young men. They kept much to themselves. They played cards quite a bit. We were on our way back when the tragedy happened.”
She was one of two stewardesses, plus one steward, the captain, co-pilot and radio operator. The plane, with 44 on board, stopped at Munich to refuel and had twice abandoned take-off in icy conditions when a third attempt was made.
“I was sitting in the cockpit. Normally the Elizabethan-type aircraft only had two cabin staff. But as it was charter flight with a bar they had an extra stewardess. So I had to have the jump seat that was in the cockpit. The steward was seated in the rear and the other stewardess was in the galley which backed on to the cockpit. I could not see out.
“I was not terribly worried. I had every faith in the pilots. They were very experienced ex-RAF pilots.
“We just wanted to get home, what with the miserable weather and the other attempts at take-off.”
The plane sped along the runway but failed to lift off, skidding through the slush and careering off the tarmac into a house. Often pausing as the memories replay in her mind, Rosemary says: “I could feel we had hit a fence and then I think we hit a building.
“I was jolted out of my seat and out of my shoes. And then we came to a standstill and it was very hushed and quiet. I went into the galley and the stewardess was already climbing out of a window that was in a door.
“She helped me through and that is the same exit the radio officer and one pilot got out of too.”
Rosemary and colleague Margaret, with Capt James Thain and radio operator George Rodgers, clambered out. Co-pilot Captain Kenneth Rayment was trapped in his seat and later died.
Steward Tom Cable, who was in the rear of the plane where most of the victims were, also perished. Outside in the swirling snow, a shaken Rosemary looked at the broken and burning aircraft in disbelief.
The left wing and tail had been torn off. The cabin was crushed and parts of the wreckage were ablaze. Bodies had been flung from the fuselage, some still strapped to their seats.
“You could not see into the cabin, it was sort of squashed,” she said.
“I know the pilot got back in and got some fire extinguishers, which he and the radio officer were using. There may have been a small fire and we had just refuelled so they wanted to put out anything that would cause a bigger explosion.
“I did not have any shoes and there was snow on the ground and it was very cold, but I didn’t even feel it.”
Twenty people died instantly and three passed away later. The dead included eight players and three club staff, eight journalists, two passengers and two crew members.
One survivor was United keeper Harry Gregg, who pulled a baby and her mother to safety.
“I was standing close to the aircraft and out came Harry, holding a little baby, which he gave to me. I cuddled her until a vehicle came with some personnel from the airport building and they took the child from me.
“There were other bodies being tended to. Some had been flung out. And there were seats scattered, too, with people still sat in them, but they were deceased.”
Eighteen months later Rosemary emigrated to the US, where she continued working for airlines and where she met her husband.
In 2008, she was invited by United to the memorial service for the 50th anniversary of the disaster, where she met Harry Gregg, now 85, for the first time since the crash.
Rosemary says: “I will never forget Harry. He was such a brave young hero. He was incredible.”
And remembering those who died, she adds: “They were so wholesome and nice young men. Really polite, just like any neighbourhood boys, clean-cut sportsmen. It was such a tragedy.”