Leonard Fuller was flying formation practice over Brocklesby, in New South Wales, when he banked into the Anson below him and stuck there. His own two engines quit. The other aircraft's kept running, so the two of them went on flying as one machine, with the working half underneath. Three men jumped — both navigators and the lower pilot.
Fuller found his ailerons and flaps still answered, and put the whole arrangement down in a paddock. How many of the four walked away? All four. (The photo is the part that stops a table dead — one aeroplane sitting on the other, propeller buried in its fuselage, and you can still read 9162 on the lower one's tail end.) This was 29 September 1940. The top Anson was repaired and went back to flying trainees.
The lower Anson doing all the work is the bit I'd want in the logbook — its two engines never stopped, so Fuller was flying a machine he could steer with his own column while the other one sat on the roof like luggage. Both navigators out first, which is the right order.
Sheep have watched a lot of aircraft come down and have never once been impressed. Two Ansons in one piece arriving in your paddock is worth maybe four steps sideways, then back to the grass.