Adlerangriff. Mission 24: 12th August (4. Folkestone 1700)

[Binkitone]

Form 540
Mission 24
Squadron 64
Date: 12th August 1940
Time: 1900 hrs
Aerodrome: Kenley
Base: Kenley
Aeroplane: Spitfire 1a (100oct) / SH-W Serial number: K9964

Synopsis:
Quickly starting our engines we taxied in flight order towards the runway freshhold to following behind Hurricanes of 615 squadron, 501 were already taking-off, resulting congestion and eagerness caused a few nasty prangs on the way. Avoiding wreckage I manage to take off, after a couple of circuits of the aerodrome, as Red Two, I followed our leading Green Flight on a south easterly course.
We eventually reached twenty thousand feet over Dungeness, while being directed towards enemy bomber formation to the west, spotted contrails circling above, could only be 109s, these began breaking off to dive on our sixes. Instinctively I broke off and climb to engage, although I continuous circling in pursuit endlessly without any effective contact being made, this did at least assist preventing these dammed Hun interfering with our Hurricane guys doing a fine job attacking Jerry below.
Landed safely at Lympne Aerodrome.

Claims
Destroyed:0
Probable: 0
Damaged:0

Pilot status: OK
A/C : OK

[Mauf]

Squadron: No. 501 "County of Gloucester" Squadron
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Mauf
Date: 12 Aug 1940 1900, Folkestone
Base: Kenley
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100 Oct
Marking: D for Don
Serial: LI898

Take off as Gold 2. Circle over Kenley Airfield with Mandrel squadron, then departure southeast towards Dover area, 15.000 feet. Contact with enemy bomber wing just off the coast from Hawkinge. Engaged Ju-88 bombers heads on with the rest of the squadron, damaging a Ju-88 on head-on pass. I circled around and engaged another Ju-88 from six o'clock, damaging both engines, left engine spitting oil and coolant, the other spraying just coolant. Disengaged after the enemy gunners finally noticed me hanging on their six, circling around for another attack. Engaged third, undamaged Ju-88, concentrating fire on it's left engine nacelle and wingstrut. Black dense smoke popped from the engine and while passing, saw the Ju-88 side windows and door fly away as the crew abandoned their burning plane. Without any flyworthy bombers left in the vacinity, I concentrated on the 109s in the area. I picked one up tailing another Hurricane. I followed in full speed pursuit, catching up in a shallow climb behind the 109. In a sharp left turn, I managed to get deflection for a shot. I got a few potshots into the 109 but went winchester. I noticed a few splashes of DeWilde ammo on the 109 but no decisive damage resulted. I announced my winchester on comm and disengaged with a split-s, heading out back to Kenley after making sure that I wasn't chased. Return to Kenley, wheels down in one piece.

Claims:

Destroyed: 1xJu-88
Probable: 1xJu-88
Damaged: 1xJu-88, 1xBf-109

Losses:
Pilot: Ok
A/C: A few potholes from Ju-88 Gunners. Just put some nylons in it and paint over.

[Maltloaf]

Squadron: No.64 Squadron
Squadron code: "SH"
Pilot name: Maltloaf
Date: 12th August 1940
Base: Kenley
Type: Spitfire Ia (100oct)
Marking: I

Had a paranormal incident on take off (must see the SMO) . Then spent the next 45 mins trying to find a kite. Same as Dange. Finally got in the air as the last kites returned and carried out an uneventful solo sweep down to Littlestone.



Claims:

Destroyed: NA
Probable: NA
Damaged: NA

SH-I : ready to go
Pilot: not a happy bear but well none the less

Malt

[Greezy]

Squadron: No.64 squadron
Squadron code: SH
Pilot name: Greezy
Date: 12 August 1940
Time : 1900 hrs
Aerodrome: Kenley
Type: Spitfire Mk Ia 100 oct
Marking: B for Beer
Serial: k9895

Synopsis: Took off en masse with a large force of all squadrons. I was tail-end Charlie, right in the back of Gold flight and happy to be in the air as due to congestion some poor sods found themselves in flames just on taxi to runway -- I suppose that's war for some. There up in the sky we kept a slow pace so as not to overtake the Hurri's up ahead, with a few radio silences being broken to give jabs to our stout friends in the lead. Keep morale up, you know, when you're about to charge head-first into the mighty Hun... contacts were called off our 2 o'clock and we went full throttle to meet them. Gold flight as well as a few others climbed to a handful of 109s making contrails, waiting to pounce. Their altitude kept me from scoring hits but we all send them scurrying. When it had calmed down I had lost my flight and heard the calls of skirmishes closer to land, as I was mid-channel at the time. I turned to Dover...

But, southward I saw two Spits following a 109 as he dove. As I had some height I went in after. I soon learned the one tight on the tail of the Messer was Nitrous, and soon after he scored hits and two trails of white smoke pouring from his vents. On the deck, he was low on ammo and let me have at it. The 109 was slippery but with my Spit cutting out with negative Gs I scored many hits, black smoke as phosphorous did its trick on the wings and tail. The 109 then banked right, quickly making friends with the sea.

We had lost sight of the other Spit that dove with us. Wiggs had mentioned he was downed at the same time as the 109. Perhaps he was the third Spitfire with Nitrous and I? I hope he made it bailed out in time. We made for England, picking up a few straggling Spits on the way, and landed and Lympne for a breather. We'll make Kenley tomorrow. Slept soundly knowing that any Hun that didn't stay to fight tucked its tail and ran. Perhaps they're losing their will?


Destroyed: 1x109 (shared with Nitrous)
Probable: 0
Damaged: 0
Pilot: OK
A/C: OK

[Donkey]

Squadron: No. 615 "County of Surrey" Squadron
Squadron Code: KW
Pilot Name: Donkey
Date: 12 August 1940
Time: 1900hrs
Base: Kenley
Type: Hawker Hurricane 1A 100 Oct
Marking: P

Synopsis;
Just got back from two weeks R and R and was keen as mustard to get back into the fight. Launched as yellow three, and formed up with the "Big Wing". Despite the exhilarating confusion of having so many kites in the air in such a small area I managed to stick to yellow one as we cruised slowly out to the coast on our intercept vector. The squadron found a large group of 88s and I followed yellow one in to attack the leftmost pair - note here that I saw yellow one get good hits on the leftmost 88, leaving it belching smoke from the starboard engine. Circled 'round for a second go but got bounced by a 109 (there were lots about!). He only landed 2 or 3 hits on me as I broke left on yellow one's warning and managed to lose him, but sadly one of those hits proved to be critical as I lost my ailerons a matter of seconds later leaving me with no control on the roll axis. Attempted to limp back using rudder alone but decided that I was worth more alive than dead from an attempted aileron-less landing so kicked the kite into a sea-ward heading and bailed over terra-firma. Watched my kite crash into the sea just off the coast as my chute opened and I drifted down safely.

Claims
Destroyed: 0
Probable: 0
Damaged: 0

Losses
Pilot: OK
A/C: lost

[Redeye]

Squadron: No.64 Squadron
Squadron code: "SH"
Pilot name: Redeye
Date: 12th August 1940
Base: Manston
Type: Spitfire Ia (100oct)
Marking: P


Big scrap over the Channel. Lot's of swearing. Loosed a few shots at a 109 and observed puffs on his right wing. Landed at Lympne afterwards.

Claims:
Damaged: 0
Damaged:

Pilot: OK
A/C: OK

[Hollywood]

Squadron: No. 615 Squadron
Squadron Code: KW
Pilot Name: Hollywood
Date: 12 Aug 1940 1900, Folkestone
Base: Kenley
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100 Oct
Marking: F for Floozy

I was at the front of the formation when we started the dive on the bombers, the 109's were in sight and well above. We ignored them because maybe they are not there when you don't look at them. However this tactic has never worked before, and this time too the 109's were diving on my teammates when I looked over my shoulder after the attack. That attack hit a bomber with a couple of bullets, but no real damage. I came in from their side, and I did not turn to form up behind them because I knew a 'death by 109' was 100% certain if I did that.
A 'death by 109' was certain in almost anything that I could come up with after that first attack. They kept their energy from what I could tell, so turning into the bombers again for a 2nd attack was not a good idea. Instead I flew parallel with the bombers and climbed in front of them.
As I continued to get some height all kinds of horrible messages came in through the radio about teammates getting hit. I came a bit closer to the chaos when I heard Random (I think it was him) saying he was being 6ed. I saw him immediately and his 109 not too far. He was climbing away in front of the bombers and the 109 was on orbit speed chasing after him. He overshot and may have hit Random, I couldn't tell, and I decided to follow and lead him with some bullets. This was just to make me feel better, not to actually hit him as he was already at 45.000 feet when I pressed the button.
I knew that the decision to help out Random was another 100% 'death by 109' guarantee, because I was in the same flight path as Random, right above the bombers. Any 109 would have seen me doing that. I received the radio message 'Hurricane above the bombers you got one on your 6' as I expected, and I rolled and dove to shake him off. Then that 1 bullet. The only one that actually hit me, got me in the oil.
I shouted really loudly in Dutch over the radio, and it is a good thing that no one could understand that. I'm still angry about it now I think of it. I will write down some Dutch words that came to my mind:
Kanker!!!
GodverdeGodverdomme typhus tering kanker spel!!!!
So that was refreshing.
Lympne was underneath me and I landed safely with a broken engine.




probable shared kill of 1 bomber

[Baron le Scrope]

Squadron: No615.
Squadron code: "KW"
Pilot name:Baron.
Date: 12th August 1940.
Time:1900hrs
Base:Kenley
Type: Hawker Hurricane Mk.1 100oct.Rotol.
Marking:B for beer.
Serial number: P3231


Took off from Kenley with Panta and Mandrel amidst debris on the runway as Blue 2. Made contact south of Folkestone with Ju88s, head on atack resulted in some hits but nothing fruitful. Distracted by German in one of those 109 things and managed to turn the tables and got a few hits but again with nothing decisive. Lost him as he climbed into the stratosphere and vanished, LMF.

Bombers well out of sight when i noticed 5 contacts sweeping from the sea on an intercept course to pay me a visit, jolly decent of them, bugger, 109s, still, only five, piece of cake, a merry go round ensued with attacks and feints with me not taking or giving one hit and eventually got away unscathed, could'nt believe it.
Headed towards the Canterbury area when i was again jumped by three more 109s, here we go again, eventually safely evaded their attacks with again no hits on either side. Dived down to the deck as by now i was low on fuel and ammo and headed home towards Kenley where i thankfully landed amid grins from the ground crew when they found there precious Hurricane was strangely still without any damage.
Cheeky Sods.

Claims: 0
Destroyed:0
Probable: 0
Damaged:1-Bf109 + 1-Ju88
Pilot: OK
A/C: OK

[Teepee]

Squadron: No.501 "County of Gloucester" Squadron
Squadron code: "SD"
Pilot name: Flying Officer Teepee
Date: 12th August 1940
Time: 1900
Aerodrome: RAF Kenley
Type: Trusty Hawker Hurricane Mk 1A
Marking: "M for Marvel"
Serial number: N2617

Synopsis:

Fresh from the morning skirmishes, with the Hun, the fearless 501 Sqn had now been deployed to fly from RAF Kenley with 615 Sqn and 64 Sqn as a ‘Big Wing’. The ground crew chaps had turned my kite round in next to no time and she proudly stood on the airfield looking every inch the marvel machine that she was. ‘There’s no time for cricket, today’ the Boss had shouted at me as I was trying to russle up some takers for a quick 10 overs a side match. The wizards in Ops had called us to 5 minutes readiness so we made our way to our machines and strapped in. Once again I was to lead Blue Section and my wingmen for today were again the heroic PO Meaker (Blue 2) and a recently arrived pilot called LAC Broadsword (Blue 3).

The green flare soared into the sky and the wing was launched into action. The sound of the mighty Merlin reverberated across the airfield and the crowds by the crash gates waved eagerly as their steely eyed heroes went to war in their battle machines. We headed towards the Hun and I tucked Blue Section just behind and below the Sqn lead. We had the usual bryllcream banter from the posh spitties who seemed unable to maintain station with the trusty Hurricanes, complaining about the speed. The Hurricane pilots knew this was 64 Sqns way of thanking us for showing them which direction to fly toward the enemy but they were obviously too shy to admit.

Soon our incredible Hurricanes had reached around 17,000 ft and a sharp eyed Hurricane pilot called out ‘Bandits ahead’ over the radio. Another sharp eyed Hurricane chap identified the black crossed harbingers of death as Ju88s. ‘Tally Ho’ was echoed across the airwaves as we dropped like hawks onto our prey. We tore into the hapless Ju88s at unbelievable speed and we extended a warm DeWilde welcome to the verminous bombers. I elected to take Blue Section onto the left of the bomber formation and placed my gunsight onto a victim. My amazing Hurricane shuddered as I let the Hun have a salvo of lead and incendiary into the left engine. The engine emitted gouts of black smoke and flame before the Ju88 descended into a spiral of doom. I never saw the aircraft hit the water so I claim 1 x probable Ju88. I heard the rest of Blue Section giving Jerry a severe thrashing and was amazed at how brave the chaps were in the face of such overwhelming odds. ‘Today is not your day, Fritz’ I muttered to myself and grinned.

I lined my awesome Hurricane onto another of the left section Ju88s and pressed the trigger. Again my Browning machine guns spewed a vomit of destruction over the left engine and almost immediately the second aircraft joined its colleague in a dance of death toward the surface of the Channel. I saw the crew bale out as the bomber dived. ‘There will be quite a few empty places at the dinner table tonight, Hermann’ I said to myself as I watched the pathetic crew opening their chutes. I claim 1 x probable Ju88. <-- Probable? They bailed. It's a confirmed

I heard the warnings from other pilots that the pesky Me109s were joining the party but I payed no attention to their shouts preferring, instead, to put my faith in the Boffins at Hawkers who had provided my machine with protective armour for just such an occasion. I lined my deadly machine up for a third time and repeated the now familiar routine of despatching the Hun. A third Ju88 was soon heading toward the Channel and I was beginning to enjoy the party. I claim 1 x probable Ju88.

I was just lining my war horse onto a fourth victim when I felt the airframe shudder as hits were received. The windscreen cracked and I felt rounds striking the armour plate behind my head. My Hawkers marvel machine was wounded so I decided to leave the party before she received any more unwelcome attention. The verminous machine that shot at me was left behind as I performed a routine power corkscrew toward the ground to safety. I decided to fly my wounded steed to RAF Hawkinge where the ground crew chaps could recover her. I radioed my intentions and was amazed to hear that other chaps were also heading for Hawking.

My landing was uneventful and I made my way to the MT Section to catch a Crew Bus back to Kenley with the rest of the heroic Hurricane pilots. Once at Kenley I briefed the Sqn Adj and then went down to the Mess to join the rest of the chaps. Morale was high so the Mess Manager had laid on extra Badgers and pianos. A spirited celebration ensued.

It was while I was at the bar that I met a nice young French filly, called Justine Timé, who turned out to be an interpreter working with the Free French pilots who were flying with us at Kenley. She said she was a keen art collector and invited me to inspect her rustic etchings back at the Station Library. I agreed, naturally, and said I was also keen to show her my collection of French Letters. Her eyes widened, in obvious delight, at this invitation so I suggested we stopped by the Library Admin Office to open the bottles of wine. I don’t remember anything else after that.

Claims:
Destroyed: None
Probable: 3 x Ju88
Damaged: None

Losses:
Pilot: OK
A/C: Reasonably Serviceable requiring some fettling – Badgers for the Chaps.

Tea, Cakes and Medals due for helping to maintain the énténte cordialle.

[Broadsword]

Squadron: No. 501 "County of Gloucester" Squadron
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: LAC Broadsword
Date: 12 Aug 1940
Time: 1900h
Base: Kenley
Type: Borrowed Hawker Hurricane 1A 100 Oct
Marking: DW-E (Not yet repainted in 501 markings)


On August 11th I was passed out of No. 7 OTU at Hawarden and ordered to report the next day to No. 501 squadron at Kenley. I was to ferry down in a 610 Squadron Hurricane, DW-E, which was also being transferred to 501 now that the Chester boys had switched to Spits.

Having said my goodbyes to Pongo, Chuffer, and the rest of the lads I set off. Approaching Kenley on the afternoon of the 12th I could see forty-odd assorted fighter aircraft in clusters around the field. Ready for anything the Hun can throw at us. Good show! After landing and parking up I called to a nearby ground crew Sergeant and showed him my orders.

"Nice to have you here, Sir," he said with a slightly sarcastic tone. "If only you'd been here earlier Mr. Churchill could have welcomed you ‘imself. He'll be so sorry he missed you, but he had to get back to Whitehall you see, Sir." A couple of the other ground crew glanced over at us and grinned. They're just ribbing you. Got to expect that as the new boy. Don't let them think you're gullible, but don't make them think you can't take a joke either...

"Very good, Sergeant, I'm sure the OC can pass on any message Winston had for me, if you could point me in his direction. Then a little refuelling wouldn't go amiss, thanks."

Having been shown to 501 Squadron's dispersal, I introduced myself to my new boss, WingCo Prickman. "I suppose you'll do," he said grudgingly. "And at least you brought your own plane. Teepee needs a new no. 3 in Blue Section. Go and say hello, and make sure you do everything he says."

The rest of 501 were sitting around the field enjoying the sun and telling each other tales of their dogfighting adventures. One chap was just telling a tall tale about taking a Tiger Moth up into a dogfight with some 110's when the squadron were put on a two minute standby. Suddenly there were Merlins sputtering to life all around me as I raced back to my bird, and as I strapped in the R/T was already alive with banter. Squadron Leader Halstead back at OTU 7 would have been horrified - he'd instilled such strict radio procedures into us that I barely dared open my mouth!

Suddenly a voice I recognised as Teepee's cut through the chatter. "Broadsword. Broadsword, what's your callsign?" A-ha! It's a test, he's trying to see if you were paying attention when you introduced yourself. "Blue Three, Sir" I parroted back smartly, very pleased with myself. "No you idiot. What letters have you got on the side of your aircraft?" came his exasperated voice. Deflated, I quickly reeled off, "Donald, William, Edward". "Roger," came his reply, "I'm M for Mike, or Monkey, or whatever. When we hit the runway I want you to form up on my left. We don't have an E for Edward in 501 at the moment so you'll do."

Before I could reply aircraft started to taxi all around me. Realising I still had my small kitbag stowed under my legs, I chucked it out to the ground crew Sergeant who was waiting to pull my chocks. "Sorry about that Sarge, stow it somewhere safe for me."

I made my way to the runway and by good fortune found myself right alongside M for Monkey. Sadly for me, it was KW-M, not SD-M, and I was in fact hogging some other chap's berth, but Teepee soon put me right and I taxied gingerly up the left side of the strip and onto the second row, waving apologies to the 615 boys who had to wait for me to get out of the way. Easy now, don't rush. I know you're hellish embarrassed to be holding things up, but it'll be worse if you turn Red Three's tail into confetti. There now, you've made it to the second row, and Teepee's stopped calling for you like a lost dog. I'd never been in such a large formation for takeoff, and felt sure I was going to prang someone. OTU 7 had never made us manoeuvre in such close quarters, but the OC obviously seemed confident that I could cope as he then ordered us to tighten things up a little so that another row of aircraft could get onto the back of the runway!

A moment later the first row were taking off, and Teepee gave the order for Blue Section to get airborne. Gently does it, no room to weave. Feed the power in slowly, catch her on the rudder, throttle up, keep your eyes on Blue Leader and don't fuck up for God‘s sake. Formation flying turned out to be worse than the taxiing - a couple of times I overshot my position, had to throttle back, then drop in and slowly inch my way back into position. Thankfully I managed to at least keep an eye on where I was supposed to be, and so eventually got myself into position by the time WingCo informed us that Fighter Command was vectoring us in to a 'large enemy formation' currently out over the channel. I'd been watching the other aircraft so closely that I had no idea where we now were, but glancing down it looked like we were heading towards Dover.

A disembodied voice came over R/T from one of the 501 boys. "I see them Osprey. Large formation... no, two large formations at our 1 o'clock."

"Good eyes that man. Right chaps, this is it, button up tight and we'll take the left group head-on. Bosch buggers don't like that you know!" Here we go then, time to find out what you're made of. Throttles up, revs up, heads up, hunker down. Teepee's getting away from you, don't lose him, but don't take your eyes off the Hun either. The gap closed in an instant, and the great grey-green bombers filled my view. Too high, too high, you forgot they were coming towards you and let them slip under your nose, pillock! I nudged the nose down just slightly and fired a quick squirt. I got a couple of pings on the jerry's fuselage, but the rest of the rounds sailed on serenely into the channel. Then I was through their formation and out into clear air, apparently alone. Teepee was calling out orders all the way in, if you'd listened. He kept telling you to pull out high and to the right after your run. There he is now, look. I pulled up and around in a smooth arc, trying to keep up my airspeed, ready to chase down the bombers, but I could see contrails to the south east and spent a little too long checking my six. By the time I'd convinced myself that I was clear Blue Leader was gone again.

"Blue Three, Blue Three, where are you?"

"Closing on the enemy formation from behind Sir, going for another run."

"Very good Blue Three, we are about to do the same"

The sight was amazing. I could see Hurricane's weaving and diving all around me, and Hun eggdroppers were burning and breaking up whilst their escorts left tangled contrails high above as they fought with our Spits. Amazingly, before I could get onto the back of the bomber formation I heard a message over R/T, "We've chewed them up alright, there's only two of them left in formation... Now only one!" What a show! Three cheers for the good old RAF! Buggeration. You missed your one shot, and now they're all down and all that's left is to avoid getting punctured by a 109 before you head home. No, wait. Look down, at your low 9 o'clock. A Hun on the run! Heading south at angels one was a limping Ju-88, a thin stream of smoke coming from his port engine. It looked like a couple of Hurricane's from 615 were giving chase but I was almost directly over him. I rolled left into a dive, came down right on top of him, and sent a long squirt out that passed a few feet in front of him. No hits, but I bet it scared the bratwurst out of him. I was dropping fast, no time for another burst unless I wanted to hit the trees, so I pulled up and round to the right, ready for another pass, but at that point someone else peppered him nicely and he went down.

I circled back up to the north hoping to gain enough height to join in the huge dogfight I could see over towards Canterbury. As I got up to angels eight I glanced over my right shoulder and was horrified to see a hurricane in a flat spin, one wing missing, dropping past me towards the ground. I'd heard no radio calls, so I guess he must have been from 615. Maybe you shouldn't try to join in with this fight. It seems dangerous. No. I've still got plenty of ammo and fuel, so I'd better get up there sharpish, even if it is risky. What about that one. Isn't that more your speed? Suddenly I spotted another straggler, a lone Ju-88 heading out to sea and leaving a smoke trail. I rolled in behind him and started my dive, saw another hurricane rocket in from below and fire, but seemingly to no effect. The Hun jinked left a little, out of my crosshairs. Damnit Broadsword, you're going to miss him. Think fast, roll left, pull back, you can rake your fire across him from right to left then peel off to the north. With E for Edward standing up on her left wingtip I dragged the crosshairs back onto the Hun, but something must have spooked him and he suddenly tried to climb, straight into my path. You're going too fast you silly arse. There's no time to evade, just squeeze the trigger, close your eyes, and pray. I hit the 88 hard. Noise, heat, the smell of 100 octane, a sudden blast of cold air as the windshield went out, and through it all the sickening disorientation as the aircraft lurched and twisted and tried to shake me loose. Eventually it all settled into a nice simple flat spin, and with horror I realised that my left wing had been torn out at the root. With no better options, I slid the canopy back and hit the silk.

The slow fall into the channel gave me too much time to think about what I'd done, so it was almost a relief to hit the water and get back into survival mode. I was picked up by ASR in a small launch. The crew gave me a warm cuppa whilst I tuned their radio to 501's frequency, just in time to hear Teepee announcing he had landed safely. A bit of good news.

"Don't worry son," the Skipper said kindly, "you can phone home once we reach shore, let 'em know you're safe."

"You don't understand. It's my first sortie, and WingCo seemed more pleased to have another Hurricane in 501 than another new pilot. And now I've gone and lost his new aircraft by flying it straight into the Hun. He's going to give me such a bollocking for this."

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself when the R/T came alive again, with a voice I just about recognised, "This is Osprey. Something's wrong, my controls froze and I've clipped the Bosch. Can't fly any more, I'm going to try to jump..." Then silence.


--------


"I suppose in the circumstances I can't exactly dress you down for having pranged your aircraft." In WingCo's absence I had reported to Teepee on my arrival back at Kenley. I found him in the Mess with a bottle of Badger's in one hand, and a rather attractive Frenchwoman in the other. "Nevertheless, it was a bloody stupid thing to do, and doesn't bode well for your future here. I'll think about it overnight, and then we'll decide whether to keep you or not. You're off flying duty until your bird gets replaced anyway, so you'd better bloody well find something useful to do." I made my way back outside, hoping I hadn’t ruined my career on my first day with 501 Squadron.




Claims
Destroyed: None
Probable: None
Damaged: Scratched the paint on an 88

Pilot: Wet, embarassed.
A/C: One wing possibly recoverable from beach near Deal, rest of airframe sunk without trace.