27.03.2009, 10:55
08:00 hrs, 30th August 1941, Vayenga Airfield.
Phelps sat down beside me and offered bottle of something alcoholic. "Thought you might appreciate this, old boy. Saw what happened. Dreadfully sorry about that."
Today had been a patrol around Kilpyavr. The weather was very good, barely a cloud to be seen. In fact the air quality was excellent and at some distance we spotted the aircraft heading east. I went down to look at them with Davids close behind, the other two staying high as cover.
German transports, Ju52's, easy targets. The lumbering tri-motors were dispatched with little effort, though I confess one gunner did put a hole or two through my canopy. The right wing folded on mine and it fell from the sky. The other began to spiral dive and a chain of parachutes appeared right until the aeroplane smashed into the ground.
We circled for some time but there seemed to be nothing more to shoot down. With my flight beck in formation we headed home. Vayenga came into view over my right leading edge. I was on the point of making an approach when Woodward started yelling "Bandits! Bandits!"
To my horror, I glanced in my mirror and saw a Messerschmitt swoop in and park itself behind me, intending to pick me off at his leisure. With a curse I opened the throttle through the gate and pulled back hard on the stick. The Merlin responded beautifully with raw power and it sang with crescendo of noise. I could barely lift my head. The aeroplane groaned and shook.
![[Image: 37317e71f0b11c3de8fbc04c2ed08ad56g.jpg]](http://www1.mediafire.com/imgbnc.php/37317e71f0b11c3de8fbc04c2ed08ad56g.jpg)
I could hear the combined rattle of gunfire behind me. I rolled left, barrel rolled right, turned hard left, winged over the other way - every artifice I could think of to shake the German. All the while I heard bursts of machine guns. I rolled upright and tried to go vertical. The Hurricane ran out of patience with my antics. It began rolling of it's own volition. Don't spin, don't spin!
I fought the controls but the plane flicked over and nosed down. I heard the enemy plane fly past me. Stick central... Opposite rudder... The Hurricane lazily continued to misbehave then at once responded. The throttle was still wide open. I eased the plane out of the dive and breathed out as I swept across the snow and grass with inches to spare.
Someone was calling for Davids to break left. I looked around as I climbed and a Hurricane at two o'clock high seperated into individual components in a bright ball of fire. Three was shouting for assistance then went silent. I saw another Hurricane, my number four, diving to escape two 109's and not pulling out. A great bulge of smoke rose from the ground.
Was it my imagination, or was an air raid siren sounding at Vayenga? At any rate, a couple of planes were starting their take off run. Too late. Herr During and his flight had gotten their revenge for our attack the other day. They left westward, no doubt well pleased with their handiwork.
I took a healthy swig of of Phelp's bottle. He had that look of pity in his eyes, and it was dawning on me if something didn't improve here very soon I was on a boat going home. I sat as Hurricanes of 134 Squadron, some with red stars, took off to close the stable door.
Phelps sat down beside me and offered bottle of something alcoholic. "Thought you might appreciate this, old boy. Saw what happened. Dreadfully sorry about that."
Today had been a patrol around Kilpyavr. The weather was very good, barely a cloud to be seen. In fact the air quality was excellent and at some distance we spotted the aircraft heading east. I went down to look at them with Davids close behind, the other two staying high as cover.
German transports, Ju52's, easy targets. The lumbering tri-motors were dispatched with little effort, though I confess one gunner did put a hole or two through my canopy. The right wing folded on mine and it fell from the sky. The other began to spiral dive and a chain of parachutes appeared right until the aeroplane smashed into the ground.
We circled for some time but there seemed to be nothing more to shoot down. With my flight beck in formation we headed home. Vayenga came into view over my right leading edge. I was on the point of making an approach when Woodward started yelling "Bandits! Bandits!"
To my horror, I glanced in my mirror and saw a Messerschmitt swoop in and park itself behind me, intending to pick me off at his leisure. With a curse I opened the throttle through the gate and pulled back hard on the stick. The Merlin responded beautifully with raw power and it sang with crescendo of noise. I could barely lift my head. The aeroplane groaned and shook.
I could hear the combined rattle of gunfire behind me. I rolled left, barrel rolled right, turned hard left, winged over the other way - every artifice I could think of to shake the German. All the while I heard bursts of machine guns. I rolled upright and tried to go vertical. The Hurricane ran out of patience with my antics. It began rolling of it's own volition. Don't spin, don't spin!
I fought the controls but the plane flicked over and nosed down. I heard the enemy plane fly past me. Stick central... Opposite rudder... The Hurricane lazily continued to misbehave then at once responded. The throttle was still wide open. I eased the plane out of the dive and breathed out as I swept across the snow and grass with inches to spare.
Someone was calling for Davids to break left. I looked around as I climbed and a Hurricane at two o'clock high seperated into individual components in a bright ball of fire. Three was shouting for assistance then went silent. I saw another Hurricane, my number four, diving to escape two 109's and not pulling out. A great bulge of smoke rose from the ground.
Was it my imagination, or was an air raid siren sounding at Vayenga? At any rate, a couple of planes were starting their take off run. Too late. Herr During and his flight had gotten their revenge for our attack the other day. They left westward, no doubt well pleased with their handiwork.
I took a healthy swig of of Phelp's bottle. He had that look of pity in his eyes, and it was dawning on me if something didn't improve here very soon I was on a boat going home. I sat as Hurricanes of 134 Squadron, some with red stars, took off to close the stable door.