Gerard Seenan charts the story of the slumbering giant which lay unnoticed on the bed of Loch Ness for almost 40 years.

AS the snow storm raged across the Highlands the pilot knew that something was seriously wrong. The snow had fallen heavily when the Wellington bomber took off on a routine training mission earlier that day, draping a deceptively gentle blanket across hills and roads; but now con-ditions had worsened and

the plane was struggling to stay airborne through a furious blizzard.

Squadron Leader Marwood-Elton trained his eyes on the array of controls in the cockpit: one of the engines had failed and the plane was losing height and speed. Quickly, he gave the order to evacuate the plane and the seven crew members jumped from the Wellington. Six of them landed safely, but the rear gunner's parachute failed to open and he died in the vast whiteness of a Highland winter.

The pilot and his co-pilot stayed on the plane, reluctant to let ''R for Robert'' be lost at the height of the war. The Wellington was a veteran of 14 bombing raids across Germany, it had flown on the first bombing raid on Germany in the Battle of Heligoland Bight in December 1939; they could not let it be lost on this routine training mission.

Through the dense clouds and driving snow it was almost impossible to navigate the plane, but, as the Wellington lost both speed and height, a break formed in the clouds and the expanse of Loch Ness came into view. It was an obvious place to land and Squadron Leader Marwood-Elton brought down the plane easily.

When the bomber landed he and his co-pilot made their escape, paddling across the loch in a dinghy as R for Robert sunk the 250ft drop on to the bed of Loch Ness. It was New Year's Eve 1940 and this was Squadron Leader Marwood-Elton's first and last flight on R for Robert.

War raged across Europe

in the coming years, claiming the lives of all but three

of the crew who had made their escape from Wellington N2980, but the plane quietly interred itself in what

became only a temporary watery grave.

For almost 40 years R for Robert slept unnoticed on the bed of Loch Ness. It was not until 1976 that the slumbering giant was accidentally spotted. A team of American research scientists were trawling the loch looking for remains of large aquatic animals - a Nessie hunt - when their sonar equipment spotted the aeroplane. A lecturer at Edinburgh's Heriot-Watt University, Robin Holmes, heard of the American's discovery and began to investigate further.

In 1978, with remote-controlled underwater cameras mounted on vehicles, he managed to locate the Wellington on the bed of the loch. The peaty, oxygen-lacking water had preserved the bomber well: armament, propellers, and cockpit were in place, fabric clung precariously to its fuselage, RAF markings were still clearly visible and, even in the underwater dark, the stainless steel of its engine glinted in the divers' torches.

A search of wartime records revealed the plane's identity: this was the only Wellington left which had seen active service in the

War. R for Robert was the

last of the 11,461 wartime Wellingtons: reason enough to attempt recovery.

A charitable trust was set up to raise the bomber and over the following years researchers applied their minds to the task. By 1985, #50,000 had been collected, but engineers gave only a 50/50 chance of success. A frame was built in Brooklands, Surrey, and plans to lift the Wellington to the surface using flotation bags were hatched. At the start of September 1985, the recovery team set off for Loch Ness to begin their task in earnest.

A diving barge, the Ellan Dhub, was moored above

the Wellington and ocean divers worked, locating the bomber's precise location, connecting it to the barge, and completing a detailed survey. New problems were discovered with almost every dive, but a final date was set for the recovery attempt.

On Tuesday September 12, 1985, crowds of onlookers mingled with media from across the country who were there to catch the first glimpse in 45 years of R

for Robert. With such crowds waiting it was almost inevit-able that something would go wrong; halfway through the operation the rig snapped and it was feared that the Wellington would sleep for ever on the deep bed.

Overnight, a new frame was built. A second lift was attempted and, against a thunderous roar, the Wellington's wing section, engines, undercarriage, and fuel tanks were lifted clear of the loch. This was only a partial success and the following day the tail section was lifted, but it was not for a further two years that the front gun turret could be removed from the loch.

The plane was taken immediately to Brooklands - the original home of the Wellingtons - where restoration has been continuous for the past ten years. An army of volunteers, some professionals,

others simply enthusiasts, have contributed more than 100,000 man-hours to restoring the plane to its former glory. There have been many problems - individually fashioning the plane's geodetic structure, rebuilding parts of the fuselage - but this week the final task was completed.

A sign writer carefully painted an R on to the Wellington's fuselage and the bomber was finally rebuilt. The name R for Robert was no longer consigned to wartime broadcasts and the watery depths of Loch Ness.