Just west of Rhyl where the River Clwyd enters the sea, the beach for several miles had been secured against its use by the Germans as an aircraft landing field, with hundreds of sturdy wooden poles about 15-18ft in length and separated about 50 yards apart.

The beach was protected early after the outbreak of hostilities in late 1939. Posts were dug and forced into the sand several feet deep; though the sea conditions most of the time were unpleasantly rough, the posts withstood the wave action to a very high degree.

At low tide I'd often secure my baited fishing lines between two of these posts and when the tide had flowed and ebbed, I would collect my catch of various types of fish and in short time sell them to my neighbours.

Royal Air Force pilots often would fly their training missions, low-level practice, flying over the beaches in our vicinity. As a 15-year-old, I'd watch in awe as I prepared my fishing lines on the beach as the aircraft roared by only a few yards above the sand.

I remember this one event though not the exact date. It was a Spitfire on a low-level training mission, hurtling above the River Clwyd toward the open sea. As the plane passed over the Vorryd Bridge, it's altitude dropped to just a few feet above the water.

I watched this manoeuvre from about 300 yards away. Suddenly the aircraft seemed to touch a wave top, give a small bounce and splash into the water upside down, a spray of water and steam obscuring the accident scene.

It was over in a few seconds. One moment the fighter's powerful Rolls Royce engine, thrilling the passers-by, and the next, shocked silence. The aircraft upside down, the tail and rear part of the airframe visible above the waves.

No sign of life and the golden beach stretching a half mile from the sea-wall to the waters edge. I stood transfixed, awed by the scene. A small crowd had gathered on the sea-wall promenade.

As I watched the scene, stunned, separating itself from the throng the lone figure of a man was clearly visible charging towards the wrecked craft. Every few seconds the running man would divest himself of an article of clothing, jacket, tie, shirt would be cast off while the others looked on. The man ran fast, his arms pumping and his head held back.

He flew across the sandy beach, a single runner. Without lessening speed or making any hesitation, he hurled himself into the water with a splash and began to swim overarm style, out into the waters bitter cold, to the still visible plane.

The tide had almost reached its nadir when the man reached the plane, he paused for a moment then dived underwater. After a few seconds you could see the man's head re-appear; at the same time a small crowd had come down from the sea-wall onto the beach and was slowly making its way across the sand; soon they began to converge to a point at the waters edge closest to the downed plane.

I was by now fairly close to the scene but kept away by the deep water of the River Clwyd as it intersected the beach and flowed into the sea.

The swimmer dived again under the plane and seemed to remain underwater for a long time. Suddenly he re-appeared and now you could clearly see that the swimmer had retrieved the flyer from the wreck and was starting to tow the unconscious pilot towards the safety of land.

Now only 50 yards from shore and the crowd of maybe a hundred or more began to wade into the shallows to help. Only a minute or so more and the rescuer and pilot were engulfed by the crowd that had gathered at the waters edge.

The pilot was revived, and still wearing his soaked sheepskin jacket, was carried shoulder high by the happy throng. I noticed that the flyer was quite active now, responding to the crowd with smiles and waves.

An ambulance was waiting on the road and took the pilot to the Royal Alexandra Hospital, away from the cheering crowd who then began to disperse.

Back at the water's edge the hero of the event was slowly recovering from his tremendous ordeal. He had exhausted himself in saving the pilot who had been stunned but not badly hurt.

During the rescuer's second dive, miraculously he had located the cockpit, had unfastened the pilot safety harness and had pulled him out of the cockpit and in so doing had saved his life. Two or three people had stayed to help the lifesaver and as he slowly returned to normality, they helped him across the sands and gather up his pieces of clothing.