How many WWII bomber crews walked out on the wing to fix the airplane while it was still flying?
There are very few documented historical accounts of WWII bomber crew members (pilots, flight engineers, etc.) walking or climbing out onto a wing mid-flight to make repairs while the aircraft was still airborne. Extensive searches across historical records, official citations, veteran accounts, and aviation histories turn up primarily two prominent, fully verified cases—both from RAF Bomber Command (one involving a New Zealand airman). These involved extinguishing fires on the wing/engine area caused by enemy night-fighter attacks. No clear, equivalent USAAF B-17 or B-24 examples (for pilots, navigators, bombardiers, tail gunners, etc.) appear in reliable sources for in-flight wing repairs while the plane was flying normally.
Such actions were extraordinarily rare and dangerous due to the extreme cold, high speeds, slipstream, altitude, and lack of safety equipment. Both known cases earned the Victoria Cross (Britain’s highest award for gallantry), with official citations based on crew eyewitness reports and surviving records. There may be additional obscure or unpublished incidents, but these two are the ones consistently confirmed “by all accounts” through military gazettes, survivor testimonies, and postwar histories.
One excellent, fully verified example: Sergeant James Allen Ward VC (7 July 1941)
A standout true story is that of Sergeant James Allen Ward (RNZAF/RAF), a 22-year-old second pilot from New Zealand serving with No. 75 (New Zealand) Squadron RAF. On the night of 7–8 July 1941, his Vickers Wellington bomber (a twin-engine medium bomber with fabric-covered geodetic construction) was returning from a raid on Münster, Germany. While flying over the Zuider Zee at about 13,000 feet and roughly 90 mph, the aircraft was attacked from below by a Messerschmitt Bf 110 night fighter. Cannon shells and incendiary bullets hit the starboard engine and wing, rupturing a fuel pipe and starting a fierce fire that threatened to spread to the entire wing and doom the plane.
The crew tried everything they could from inside: they tore a hole in the fuselage near the fire and attacked it with extinguishers and even their coffee flasks. Nothing worked. With the fire growing and the crew preparing to bail out, Ward volunteered for a desperate last resort. He took the canvas engine cover (which had been used as a cushion) and had the crew tie a rope around his waist for a minimal safety line.
Ward climbed out through the astrodome (a small observation dome on top of the fuselage), then carefully worked his way down the side of the fuselage and out onto the starboard wing. The geodetic frame and fabric skin allowed him to punch holes with his fists or use existing battle-damage holes for hand- and footholds. Despite the powerful slipstream from the propeller (which nearly blew him off) and the flaming fuel jet, he crawled about 3 feet down and another 3 feet along the wing to a position behind the burning starboard engine. Lying precariously there, he used the engine cover to smother the flames in the wing fabric and tried to stuff the cover into the hole over the leaking fuel pipe. The slipstream eventually tore the cover from his hands, but he had done enough—the main fire was out. Exhausted, he made his way back along the wing and was pulled inside by his crewmates.
The damaged Wellington made it safely back to base in England. Ward’s actions had saved the aircraft and the entire crew from almost certain destruction. For this, he was awarded the Victoria Cross—the first New Zealander to receive it in WWII. The official citation (published in the London Gazette) matches the crew’s accounts exactly and describes it as an act “in circumstances of the greatest difficulty and at the risk of his life.” Winston Churchill personally presented the medal. Tragically, Ward was killed in action just two months later (15 September 1941) while commanding his own Wellington on a raid over Germany.
This incident is corroborated by multiple independent sources, including the official VC citation, crew testimonies, squadron records, and postwar histories from the Imperial War Museum, Commonwealth War Graves Commission, and the National WWII Museum. It remains one of the most famous examples of raw courage in RAF Bomber Command.
(The second well-documented case is Flight Engineer Sergeant Norman Cyril Jackson VC on an Avro Lancaster in April 1944. He climbed out onto the burning starboard wing at 20,000 feet and ~200 mph during a raid on Schweinfurt, using a fire extinguisher while holding on with one hand. He was badly burned, fell from the plane with a partially opened parachute, and survived as a POW. He too received the VC.)
These stories highlight the extraordinary bravery of WWII bomber crews, but they were exceptional outliers—not routine maintenance. Most in-flight “repairs” were limited to what could be done from inside the aircraft.