What inspired you to research the Vulcan’s crash in Żabbar and then write Forty-Six Feet Short – The Tragic End of Vulcan Bomber XM645 and the Aftermath?
This is a personal memory that has stayed vivid in my mind. Even now, at 60 years old, I clearly remember the day Vulcan XM645 exploded and crashed in Żabbar. I was just 10 at the time. It was shortly after school, a little past 1 p.m. As I was leaving Valletta through the city gate, I saw this huge Vulcan bomber flying at a low altitude, heading toward RAF Luqa to land.
I got on the bus to go home. As we left the terminus in Valletta and approaching Floriana, there was a sudden commotion on board. The driver stopped the bus, and everyone turned their attention toward the Grand Harbour. Looking beyond the harbour, a huge fireball had erupted, quickly turning into thick black smoke. Two large pieces of wreckage were slowly falling—one engulfed in flames, the other spinning while trailing dark smoke. It was a clear, sunny day with excellent visibility. I saw two red parachutes appear side by side in the sky.
By the time I reached home in Żejtun—a village near Żabbar where the aircraft had gone down—emergency services and police were already active in the area. When I arrived, I found my mother standing outside, visibly distressed, surrounded by concerned neighbours. Word had spread that the crash occurred near the Malta Drydocks in the Cottonera area, where my father worked. In those days, without mobile phones and with very limited access to telephones, the uncertainty was terrifying. My mother was understandably worried. I did my best to reassure her that the crash hadn’t happened at the docks.
Five people aboard the aircraft, along with one person on the ground, tragically lost their lives that day. The crash of XM645 has stayed with me ever since, continuing to spark my curiosity and reflection over the years. It’s good to know that, when I was young, my father and I used to go to Luqa Airport to watch the military aircraft, whether in flight, parked on the apron, or performing during the occasional air displays on certain particular events.
Since then, I got married and have continued to live in Żejtun. Over the years, many people have shared their memories, opinions, and interpretations of the crash—as documented in books, newspapers, social media, and various online platforms. While the core story is generally known, these accounts do not always align with the actual facts. Some are shaped by hearsay from that time, and others leave important details unclear.
From what I have read, I have often found inconsistencies and gaps. Each account seemed to raise more questions in my mind than it answered. Żabbar still holds a collective memory of the Vulcan crash, but with time, the number of people who personally lived through that day is sadly dwindling. Even decades later, eyewitnesses still recall—with a mix of awe and horror—the sight of the burning wreckage of aircraft as it came crashing down, and the destruction that followed in its wake.
But memories fade, and personal recollections—though heartfelt—can differ greatly as the years go by. I’ve come to understand how difficult it is to challenge stories once they become part of the collective narrative. That realization is what ultimately led me to pursue deeper and broader research into the event.
With the material I had gathered, I was often encouraged by many to write and publish a book about this tragic event. It is meant for anyone interested in the story, especially those with a passion for local and aviation history. But it is also for those who were not around at the time, to help them understand and remember what happened. This year happens to be the 50th anniversary of the event.
Throughout my research, I had the privilege of meeting relatives and friends of the victims, some even abroad. That experience deepened my sense of responsibility, and I felt a strong obligation to ensure this book stands as a lasting tribute to those who lost their lives.
What was your greatest challenge during the research process?
My research involved extensive reading of books about technicalities of the Vulcan aircraft, its operations both locally and internationally, and the broader context of the Cold War, which was still ongoing at the time of the crash. Some of these publications also made reference to the XM645 accident. I visited sites of interest, The National Archives in Kew, London, as well as the National Archives in Rabat, Malta, to access records from the inquiries carried out by the RAF and the local government through the Maltese courts. The archives were the main sources of information, offering factual and reliable details, thus filling the gaps. I also examined newspaper articles from the time at the National Library. In addition, I spoke with several contemporary eyewitnesses who shared personal recollections of that tragic day.
One of the main challenges was reconciling the details from various sources—making sense of the information and presenting it in a way that, especially technical parlance, could be easily understood by the general reader. It was crucial to ensure the meaning and integrity of the narrative remained intact. Another challenge was managing the sheer volume of information I uncovered during my research and condensing it without losing important context. During visits to places of significance—such as Nettleham in the UK and Portstewart in Northern Ireland where the RAF victims are buried—I was fortunate to meet people who were incredibly supportive, helpful, and understanding.
Why ‘Forty-Six Feet Short’?
While approaching Luqa Airport, the Vulcan touched down 46 feet short of the runway. That was the onset of the tragic accident. As the aircraft moved on, this caused it to strike the runway’s edge with enough force to inflict significant damage to the main undercarriage, which in turn led to a fuel leak and a fire breaking out on the starboard wing.
The captain opted to initiate a go-around in preparation for an emergency landing back at the airport. However, as the stricken aircraft flew over Żabbar en route to Luqa, the fire engulfed it, causing it to explode.
In the end, this tragedy left many families overwhelmed with grief, sorrow, and disbelief, including the surviving pilots who ejected from aircraft. The story continues to captivate many, as seen by the visitors who go to the Żabbar Sanctuary Museum, where a room is dedicated to the event, leaving their thoughts in the Visitor’s Book.
Through my book, readers are invited to experience the sequence of events that led to the accident. It also provides them with a detailed account of the subsequent investigations and their findings, and the context in which the event happened.
David Grech
Forty-Six Feet Short – The Tragic End of Vulcan Bomber XM645 and the Aftermath is published by Horizons. See more or buy your copy here