Squadron: No. 64 Squadron
Squadron Code: SH
Pilot Name: Raptor
Type: Spitfire Ia 100 octane
Marking:L
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Got reassigned today again. Ended up as White 3 with a chap named Vranac and Redeye. They still seem a bit leary of me here as I continue to be shuffled. But then again this being a war I can understand. Got into my crate in Tangmere with 501 lined up in front of us. We took off in good order; however I did have difficulty keeping up with my lead as he seemed to be all over the sky at once.
Made contact with enemy bombers over the Isle. I called the break because I saw white two get sixed by a 109. I was able to get a position on him and I let him have a burst. Not sure if he went down even though I was sure I got good hits on him. By that point I could hear over the R/T that I was in the middle of a good scrape. I let Red- Nitrous know that I was in good shape and that I requested to engage the bomber stream. I got in behind a JU-88 and let it have a good burst and was elated to see that it did indeed catch fire and go down. I was then able to get ahold of another bomber and it also caught fire and went down.
Then a strange sight. I looked behind me and saw a 109 about 50 yards astern of my plane. My first thought was well "I'm dead". I immediately chopped throttle and went into a weird loop which must have surprised my pursuer as much as it did me as he flew past me and I was able to get a small burst in him.
I then realized I was out of ammo and Fortunley for me Luke from Blue fight took me home and we landed without incident.
The war goes on.
Claims:
Confirmed: 2 xJU-88
Probable: 0
Damaged: 2xBF109
Losses:
AC: OK
Pilot: OK
Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 1430)
Moderators: Board of Directors, Administration Staff, Skin Team, Treasurers
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
"Dont just stand there get one up"
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Squadron: No. 501 Squadron
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Schmuck
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100oct
Marking: L
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Serial: V6646
Synopsis:
Took off behind Gold leader as Gold 3, we headed for a large group of Ju-88's. I followed Gold Leader as he dove onto a Ju-88, with a short burst the port side engine caught fire. We came around for a second pass and just as I thought "Hey, I haven't seen any 109's, maybe I should check my si-". Before I could finish my thought as if he could hear me think, he ripped into my aircraft disabling Rudder and Aileron control, sending my plane into a flat spin I couldn't get out of. I take my map and compass and say one final good bye to my crate, as I lunge from my seat I hear a terrible ripping sound. I look over my shoulder to see my parachute, not attached to me. For what felt like an eternity I plummeted to my doom but not before shaking my fist at the dammed 109 who ended my reign of terror.
Claims:
Destroyed: None
Probable: None
Damaged: Some poor Schmucks house in the country side that my plane landed in.
Losses:
Pilot: Mush
Plane: Plane Mush
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Schmuck
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100oct
Marking: L
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Serial: V6646
Synopsis:
Took off behind Gold leader as Gold 3, we headed for a large group of Ju-88's. I followed Gold Leader as he dove onto a Ju-88, with a short burst the port side engine caught fire. We came around for a second pass and just as I thought "Hey, I haven't seen any 109's, maybe I should check my si-". Before I could finish my thought as if he could hear me think, he ripped into my aircraft disabling Rudder and Aileron control, sending my plane into a flat spin I couldn't get out of. I take my map and compass and say one final good bye to my crate, as I lunge from my seat I hear a terrible ripping sound. I look over my shoulder to see my parachute, not attached to me. For what felt like an eternity I plummeted to my doom but not before shaking my fist at the dammed 109 who ended my reign of terror.
Claims:
Destroyed: None
Probable: None
Damaged: Some poor Schmucks house in the country side that my plane landed in.
Losses:
Pilot: Mush
Plane: Plane Mush
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Squadron: No. 501 Squadron
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Robo.
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100oct
Marking: U
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Serial: N2238
Synopsis:
At readiness again. The fighting is dragging on for way too long, I don't sleep well at all and I can feel I am getting really tired and worn out. Of course I would never admit that, no one would. I sit in the cockpit, listening to the obligatory R/T banter and waiting for a call to go ahead and start the engine. I can't wait to get over with this and sleep for weeks. When I stop thinking for a few seconds, my eyelids shut and smoothly drift into a daydream. Or is it another nightmare? I see F/O Bunny on my port side - jolly good chap, true English gentleman and gifted Hun slayer. On my starboard, another Hurricane, SD - A. American chap, they call him Toxic. Americans are quite different to our British friends, not all that reserved and good sports. I understand for us Czechs or Poles fighting in this battle, but I am truly amazed by the loyalty and sacrifice by the old colonies - Australians, Kiwis, South Africans, and even US pilots. Many of them claim to be 'Canadian' just to be able to come over here and do what we simply have do to just to prevail. Brave brave chaps, and excellent pilots. I remember my family back home in Nazi occupied Czechoslovakia, feel my fake British passport with the name of 'Bailey'. I don't want to think about what would happen to them if Gestapo finds out what I am doing here in England. I can't afford to get shot down and PoW, I rather stay with the aircraft to the very end...
I lead Gold section again, with Sabre and Schmuck as Gold 2 and Gold 3. Oh God will they rtb with me. I am not very good at dealing with wingmans I lose...
After what seems like eternity, we watch Panta and Freema taking off. Mandril is next. Nice and tight formation, W/Cdr is taking us straight into the Hun. Angels 17. Tally ho! Enemy at out 2 o'clock. I was tired, but I spotted them first this time, my senses wake up, I feel adrenaline kicking in and I am sharp as a razorblade. Too many pilots died in this battle as they got too tired to spot the enemy soon enough. Gold section, keep it tight! Head on attack, gunsight 56 feet, left formation, full power! Watch out for snappers! One pass one kill lads, tally ho! I shout orders into R/T and line up the bomber in my gunsight. Port engine, one second burst, good kill, he's on fire. Quick turn, check our six. I see more burning. 501 is chewing them up pretty badly. I line up on another bomber's six and fire a short burst from 400 yards. One 109 is diving on us, break!!! Too late. Hurricane enters a flat spin. I break my attack and follow him down. You're clean, mate, stop spinning and get back up here pal. No, he's damaged badly, I see canopy flying away and then he bails out. I note his position and try to protect him. Parachute? Oh no, I see pieces of canvas dangling and a man falling down. Oh God, terrible, terrible. It's poor Shmuck. I report Gold 3 going in and his position over R/T and full power, climb to the others. 501 rendezvous over Newport, Angels 20. I am around Angels 12 and I see a lone Spitfire cruising to the S. 109 slowly catching up. I asked the W/Cdr to warn the careless Freema pilot over R/T, but in the same time, I decided to slide behind the 109 as the Spitfire kept on flying straight. I fired at the e/a from 150 yards and set him on fire with a 3 second burst. No parachute seen, 109 went straight down over IoW. Climbing back towards the main group of Mandril squadron, I hear Toxic reporting he rtb OK with his crate damaged. Well done, good show old boy. Gold 2 is also successful and sounds very delighted over the R/T, having shot down 3 and half enemy bombers. Another group of bombers to be attacked. I report 2 109s over the island, I did my best to avoid them and luckily, they just carried on straight. I am sure it was these two that attacked Mauf a while later. I have seen him breaking in a tight turn to avoid getting shot at again. Luckily, he's pretty good at that. At this time I re-joined the main group and got straight into position behind the e/a. The pilot panicked a bit and turned tight. He's turned, he's dead, I heard someone saying on comms. It might have even been me. One Hurricane shot him up pretty badly, it was one of the new chaps, Dave. Good kill mate, he's not going anywhere. I shot a quick deflection shot on the struck 109 and he caught fire immediately. I confirm one Me 109 shot down by Dave, with some help of Bunny and myself. No parachute seen, plane plummeted straight to the ground. Excellent show. The other 109 was smart enough to extent and ran away. Climbing back to combat altitude, we spotted yet another group of bombers and attacked them on the way back to France. I didn't want to spoil a good mission for the 501 by getting slaughtered trying to shot down a few empty bombers. Let them go home lads and let them tell the other Jerries that they will get their arses kicked if they dare to come back again. Nothing tells the story of Battle of Britain better than a German bomber landing back to France with plenty of .303 holes on the outside and a plenty of German blood in the inside.
I lined up behind one bomber and expended the rest of my ammunition from his 6 o'clock. The Ju-88 flipped over and went straight in. I noticed as many as 3 109s with slight advantage joining the area. I was almost winchester, when I tried to catch one 109 that was a bit careless, but he was still too fast for me. I decided to dive to the deck and RTB. I ordered Gold 2 the same thing and we all landed at Tangsmere about 10 minutes later.
Good day for the RAF, good day for the 501. Nil Time.
Claims:
Destroyed: 2x Ju-88, 1x Bf 109
Probable:
Damaged: 1x Bf 109 (confirmed kill for SorcererDave shared with Bunny and myself)
Losses:
Pilot: OK
Plane: OK
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Robo.
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100oct
Marking: U
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Serial: N2238
Synopsis:
At readiness again. The fighting is dragging on for way too long, I don't sleep well at all and I can feel I am getting really tired and worn out. Of course I would never admit that, no one would. I sit in the cockpit, listening to the obligatory R/T banter and waiting for a call to go ahead and start the engine. I can't wait to get over with this and sleep for weeks. When I stop thinking for a few seconds, my eyelids shut and smoothly drift into a daydream. Or is it another nightmare? I see F/O Bunny on my port side - jolly good chap, true English gentleman and gifted Hun slayer. On my starboard, another Hurricane, SD - A. American chap, they call him Toxic. Americans are quite different to our British friends, not all that reserved and good sports. I understand for us Czechs or Poles fighting in this battle, but I am truly amazed by the loyalty and sacrifice by the old colonies - Australians, Kiwis, South Africans, and even US pilots. Many of them claim to be 'Canadian' just to be able to come over here and do what we simply have do to just to prevail. Brave brave chaps, and excellent pilots. I remember my family back home in Nazi occupied Czechoslovakia, feel my fake British passport with the name of 'Bailey'. I don't want to think about what would happen to them if Gestapo finds out what I am doing here in England. I can't afford to get shot down and PoW, I rather stay with the aircraft to the very end...
I lead Gold section again, with Sabre and Schmuck as Gold 2 and Gold 3. Oh God will they rtb with me. I am not very good at dealing with wingmans I lose...
After what seems like eternity, we watch Panta and Freema taking off. Mandril is next. Nice and tight formation, W/Cdr is taking us straight into the Hun. Angels 17. Tally ho! Enemy at out 2 o'clock. I was tired, but I spotted them first this time, my senses wake up, I feel adrenaline kicking in and I am sharp as a razorblade. Too many pilots died in this battle as they got too tired to spot the enemy soon enough. Gold section, keep it tight! Head on attack, gunsight 56 feet, left formation, full power! Watch out for snappers! One pass one kill lads, tally ho! I shout orders into R/T and line up the bomber in my gunsight. Port engine, one second burst, good kill, he's on fire. Quick turn, check our six. I see more burning. 501 is chewing them up pretty badly. I line up on another bomber's six and fire a short burst from 400 yards. One 109 is diving on us, break!!! Too late. Hurricane enters a flat spin. I break my attack and follow him down. You're clean, mate, stop spinning and get back up here pal. No, he's damaged badly, I see canopy flying away and then he bails out. I note his position and try to protect him. Parachute? Oh no, I see pieces of canvas dangling and a man falling down. Oh God, terrible, terrible. It's poor Shmuck. I report Gold 3 going in and his position over R/T and full power, climb to the others. 501 rendezvous over Newport, Angels 20. I am around Angels 12 and I see a lone Spitfire cruising to the S. 109 slowly catching up. I asked the W/Cdr to warn the careless Freema pilot over R/T, but in the same time, I decided to slide behind the 109 as the Spitfire kept on flying straight. I fired at the e/a from 150 yards and set him on fire with a 3 second burst. No parachute seen, 109 went straight down over IoW. Climbing back towards the main group of Mandril squadron, I hear Toxic reporting he rtb OK with his crate damaged. Well done, good show old boy. Gold 2 is also successful and sounds very delighted over the R/T, having shot down 3 and half enemy bombers. Another group of bombers to be attacked. I report 2 109s over the island, I did my best to avoid them and luckily, they just carried on straight. I am sure it was these two that attacked Mauf a while later. I have seen him breaking in a tight turn to avoid getting shot at again. Luckily, he's pretty good at that. At this time I re-joined the main group and got straight into position behind the e/a. The pilot panicked a bit and turned tight. He's turned, he's dead, I heard someone saying on comms. It might have even been me. One Hurricane shot him up pretty badly, it was one of the new chaps, Dave. Good kill mate, he's not going anywhere. I shot a quick deflection shot on the struck 109 and he caught fire immediately. I confirm one Me 109 shot down by Dave, with some help of Bunny and myself. No parachute seen, plane plummeted straight to the ground. Excellent show. The other 109 was smart enough to extent and ran away. Climbing back to combat altitude, we spotted yet another group of bombers and attacked them on the way back to France. I didn't want to spoil a good mission for the 501 by getting slaughtered trying to shot down a few empty bombers. Let them go home lads and let them tell the other Jerries that they will get their arses kicked if they dare to come back again. Nothing tells the story of Battle of Britain better than a German bomber landing back to France with plenty of .303 holes on the outside and a plenty of German blood in the inside.
I lined up behind one bomber and expended the rest of my ammunition from his 6 o'clock. The Ju-88 flipped over and went straight in. I noticed as many as 3 109s with slight advantage joining the area. I was almost winchester, when I tried to catch one 109 that was a bit careless, but he was still too fast for me. I decided to dive to the deck and RTB. I ordered Gold 2 the same thing and we all landed at Tangsmere about 10 minutes later.
Good day for the RAF, good day for the 501. Nil Time.
Claims:
Destroyed: 2x Ju-88, 1x Bf 109
Probable:
Damaged: 1x Bf 109 (confirmed kill for SorcererDave shared with Bunny and myself)
Losses:
Pilot: OK
Plane: OK
Last edited by Robo on Tue Sep 30, 2014 4:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Squadron: No. 501 Squadron
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Sgt.Fang
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100oct
Marking: F for Freddie
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Serial: L1953
Synopsis:
Sitting on the airfield for what seemed an age and the nerves building we finally got the go from dispersal, 501 cleared the field and headed south for the IOW area. With all the flights nicely formed the C\O called bomber formation and we braced ourselves for action. Falling on the bombers at pace Robo was the first to send a flamer into the channel. On my first pass I had good hits into an 88 which fell away streaming, pulling up high and setting myself up for a second pass I scored 2 good bursts into a port side engine and another Hun fell away. The remaining sections of 501 reformed only to see another raid coming down the estuary towards the IOW, now Winchester on ammo I called RTB and headed back to Tangmere. As I approach the airfield the C\O and Mauf were just clearing the strip. On finals my gear would not lock down so I managed to belly land it, and walk clear.
Claims:
Destroyed: 2x Ju 88 shared with Bonkin & Broadsword
Probable: None
Damaged: Undercarriage shattered.
Losses:
Pilot: Ok
Plane: Ok
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Sgt.Fang
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100oct
Marking: F for Freddie
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Serial: L1953
Synopsis:
Sitting on the airfield for what seemed an age and the nerves building we finally got the go from dispersal, 501 cleared the field and headed south for the IOW area. With all the flights nicely formed the C\O called bomber formation and we braced ourselves for action. Falling on the bombers at pace Robo was the first to send a flamer into the channel. On my first pass I had good hits into an 88 which fell away streaming, pulling up high and setting myself up for a second pass I scored 2 good bursts into a port side engine and another Hun fell away. The remaining sections of 501 reformed only to see another raid coming down the estuary towards the IOW, now Winchester on ammo I called RTB and headed back to Tangmere. As I approach the airfield the C\O and Mauf were just clearing the strip. On finals my gear would not lock down so I managed to belly land it, and walk clear.
Claims:
Destroyed: 2x Ju 88 shared with Bonkin & Broadsword
Probable: None
Damaged: Undercarriage shattered.
Losses:
Pilot: Ok
Plane: Ok
-
Broadsword
- Posts: 3124
- Joined: Wed Sep 03, 2014 7:54 pm
- Location: Cheshire, UK
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Squadron: No. 501 "County of Gloucester" Squadron
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Broadsword
Date: 13th Aug 1940
Time: 1430h
Base: Tangmere
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100 Oct
Marking: E for Edward
Serial: P3582
Flight Report:
"Try not to collide with anything this time, eh?"
I left WingCo's office with mixed feelings. 501 had been brought back up to full force with a few new Hurricanes, and so I was going back up to fight. But despite this second chance, WingCo was clearly not going to let me just forget the soggy, ignominious end to my last sortie.
Stop fretting, it's just banter. You're going to have to get used to that, it's the way of things. Or he might be making sure you learn from your mistakes, by reminding you of them. Something like that . Anyway relax, you've got what you wanted, you're off the subs bench again.
My first flight in the new bird was a simple one, as 501 squadron were to be ferried down to Tangmere to help cover the Portsmouth area. Some of the chaps speculated that the Intelligence boffins must have heard news of some nefarious Jerry plot, others said it was just that Tangmere boys couldn't be trusted to guard a cake stand, so we were being drafted in. I didn't care either way - I was remembering that 'Gloppers' Glossop hailed from Bognor Regis, and that he reportedly had a darling sister who was something of an English Rose, as they say. Keep your mind on your job, and staying alive. You're not likely to get any time to go gallivanting on this jaunt anyway.
"Now then chaps, time for flight assignments." WingCo scanned the ready room at Tangmere slowly, then came to a decision. "You do it Teepee, I've got to go and have a word with 64 squadron." Teepee sighed and started to reel off names from the 501 roster. "Anyone not assigned yet?" I started to raise my hand - You're not at school now, idiot. Be a man! - then thought better of it. "Me, Sir. Sorry, Sir." There, that was much better. "Fine. Well Broadsword, you'll be Red Three, flying with the WingCo. Make sure you stick to him like glue - shouldn't be too hard for you." I wasn't sure if this was a joke at my expense or the WingCo's, but it got a laugh from the chaps. When Osprey found out he was less amused, "Oh bloody hell Teepee, you can't put both of the new boys with me. They'll have no chance of keeping up. Do it again," but at that point we were ordered to five minute standby and my one chance to get an easier assignment went for a burton.
By 2pm I was thoroughly fed-up with the day's work - the sun was blazing down, and 501, 615, and 64 squadrons were slowly baking in our cockpits. "If we don't get off soon the paint's going to melt off our planes - I already can't tell who's who," came a disembodied voice over R/T. "Calm down, chaps," came WingCo's voice in reply, "we're in for the full innings today, no sense in getting het up about it. How about a bit of banter?"
The 501 boys were in full swing, swapping jokes about Jerry, 64 squadron, and which of the local girls might be 'up for a bit' - Don't tell them about Gloppers' sister whatever you do - when a new voice popped up on R/T. "Osprey, it's Sergeant Fang here. The wiring chappies have managed to fix my wireless, so I'll be able to join today's show after all. Got any spaces for me?" "Do, I? You can join us in Red Flight, we'll split into two pairs. I'll take Saucy and you can have Broadsword."
"Excuse me, Sir. Broadsword here. Does that mean I still line up at the front with you, or do Sgt. Fang and I tag on at the back?" A good, concise question, well thought out and clearly put.
"Oh bloody hell, Broadsword. You're still in Red Flight, so you're still up here at the front. Got it?" Or possibly not.
The call finally came, and Osprey ordered 615 and half of 64 into the air. Lucky bastards. At least they'll get some air through their radiators. I'm just about dripping here. We listened over R/T as they were vectored towards what sounded like huge Jerry formations over towards Portsmouth. Then it was our turn. I taxied as smartly behind Osprey as I could, and took up position at his four o'clock. I could see Saucy off to my left, but there was no sign of Sgt. Fang. Forget that, do your final checks now whilst you have the chance. Flaps 20, temps ok, direction finder set, check control surfaces. From the corner of my eye I saw F for Fang squeezing up between Teepee and Meaker, then suddenly Osprey gave the call for us to get off. Can't keep formation with Sgt. Fang at your 8, so for now just concentrate on the boss. I managed to stick close to Osprey through take off and our initial circuit, watching Saucy do the same off to the left.
As we climbed towards the Isle of Wight Sgt. Fang made contact and we manoeuvred into position. Just then I heard Robo announce, "Jerry crates at two o'clock low," and we were off on the hunt. I was so busy looking for the Hun as we wheeled northwards that I lost sight of Fang again, and so opted to follow Osprey into the attack. Ahead of us I could see that some of 501 had cut the corner and were diving on Jerry giving me a fine view as they set one of the bombers aflame! I followed Osprey down onto the leftmost group, saw a couple of puffs of white as he nicked the tail of their leader, but was so busy trying to not collide with the krauts that I didn't bring my guns to bear. Osprey had pulled up into a steep loop and I followed him up and over, but managed to starve my carburettors as I straightened out, losing some ground. Still, the boss was still in sight so I dived after him as we came at jerry for a second pass.
I saw another 88 go down in flames as we closed back up. The six on the west are being chewed up nicely, take a gander at the middle group. I followed Osprey in a slight left climb then let my guns loose as my nose slewed across a lone bomber - in less than a second I saw hits to his starboard engine, cockpit, then all the way back down his fuselage and across his tail before the last shells went whizzing off into empty space. I barrelled past him from his low five o'clock to a high nine, then looped back down across his nose heading south. I don't know what happened to him but he took a lot of damage and looked pretty sickly as I left him. I doubt he made it home...
Concentrate. Forget him, he's behind you now, in all senses of the word. Osprey has looped to the right again, best go and follow him. Eyes ahead, stay sharp, fight. Ahead of me, off towards Ryde, I saw the two lead vics of the bomber formation being chased down by at least five of the 501 boys. I kept my speed up as we dove towards the pack, catching up fast with gravity on our side. Osprey joined the hunt on the eastern vic, but there was no room for me so I closed in on the lead aircraft on the west.
"109 coming in at the back of the formation," came Saucy's voice on R/T. Don't panic. 'Back of the formation' is a ways back from here, and even if it isn't, there are five or six other hurricanes around you. The odds are definitely in your favour...
I let my plane do the work, turning the dive into a gentle climb as I closed the last few yards. "109 on a Hurricane, closing at the rear." Bonkin's voice this time. Too late to do anything about it now, the 88 is filling your whole screen. Just pray it isn't you he's talking about, and squeeze the trigger.
So here we are. I squeeze the trigger. The .303s roar to life, sending tracer, AP, incendiary and DeWilde thudding into the Jerry's starboard wing. The first few miss the engine and rip through that bloody great cross by the right aileron. The next few ping off the cowling of the great Jumo engines. Nearly there. The blink of an eye and you'll blow the cockpit right off her!
"Break, break."
Then a sudden, instantaneous black.
Claims:
Destroyed: None
Probable: None
Damaged: 2 x Ju 88
Losses:
Pilot: Jam and Spam cockpit lining
Plane: Bits of it will be confusing metal-detectorists on the beaches of the Isle of Wight for years. The rest may one day feature in a Time Team special.
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Broadsword
Date: 13th Aug 1940
Time: 1430h
Base: Tangmere
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100 Oct
Marking: E for Edward
Serial: P3582
Flight Report:
"Try not to collide with anything this time, eh?"
I left WingCo's office with mixed feelings. 501 had been brought back up to full force with a few new Hurricanes, and so I was going back up to fight. But despite this second chance, WingCo was clearly not going to let me just forget the soggy, ignominious end to my last sortie.
Stop fretting, it's just banter. You're going to have to get used to that, it's the way of things. Or he might be making sure you learn from your mistakes, by reminding you of them. Something like that . Anyway relax, you've got what you wanted, you're off the subs bench again.
My first flight in the new bird was a simple one, as 501 squadron were to be ferried down to Tangmere to help cover the Portsmouth area. Some of the chaps speculated that the Intelligence boffins must have heard news of some nefarious Jerry plot, others said it was just that Tangmere boys couldn't be trusted to guard a cake stand, so we were being drafted in. I didn't care either way - I was remembering that 'Gloppers' Glossop hailed from Bognor Regis, and that he reportedly had a darling sister who was something of an English Rose, as they say. Keep your mind on your job, and staying alive. You're not likely to get any time to go gallivanting on this jaunt anyway.
"Now then chaps, time for flight assignments." WingCo scanned the ready room at Tangmere slowly, then came to a decision. "You do it Teepee, I've got to go and have a word with 64 squadron." Teepee sighed and started to reel off names from the 501 roster. "Anyone not assigned yet?" I started to raise my hand - You're not at school now, idiot. Be a man! - then thought better of it. "Me, Sir. Sorry, Sir." There, that was much better. "Fine. Well Broadsword, you'll be Red Three, flying with the WingCo. Make sure you stick to him like glue - shouldn't be too hard for you." I wasn't sure if this was a joke at my expense or the WingCo's, but it got a laugh from the chaps. When Osprey found out he was less amused, "Oh bloody hell Teepee, you can't put both of the new boys with me. They'll have no chance of keeping up. Do it again," but at that point we were ordered to five minute standby and my one chance to get an easier assignment went for a burton.
By 2pm I was thoroughly fed-up with the day's work - the sun was blazing down, and 501, 615, and 64 squadrons were slowly baking in our cockpits. "If we don't get off soon the paint's going to melt off our planes - I already can't tell who's who," came a disembodied voice over R/T. "Calm down, chaps," came WingCo's voice in reply, "we're in for the full innings today, no sense in getting het up about it. How about a bit of banter?"
The 501 boys were in full swing, swapping jokes about Jerry, 64 squadron, and which of the local girls might be 'up for a bit' - Don't tell them about Gloppers' sister whatever you do - when a new voice popped up on R/T. "Osprey, it's Sergeant Fang here. The wiring chappies have managed to fix my wireless, so I'll be able to join today's show after all. Got any spaces for me?" "Do, I? You can join us in Red Flight, we'll split into two pairs. I'll take Saucy and you can have Broadsword."
"Excuse me, Sir. Broadsword here. Does that mean I still line up at the front with you, or do Sgt. Fang and I tag on at the back?" A good, concise question, well thought out and clearly put.
"Oh bloody hell, Broadsword. You're still in Red Flight, so you're still up here at the front. Got it?" Or possibly not.
The call finally came, and Osprey ordered 615 and half of 64 into the air. Lucky bastards. At least they'll get some air through their radiators. I'm just about dripping here. We listened over R/T as they were vectored towards what sounded like huge Jerry formations over towards Portsmouth. Then it was our turn. I taxied as smartly behind Osprey as I could, and took up position at his four o'clock. I could see Saucy off to my left, but there was no sign of Sgt. Fang. Forget that, do your final checks now whilst you have the chance. Flaps 20, temps ok, direction finder set, check control surfaces. From the corner of my eye I saw F for Fang squeezing up between Teepee and Meaker, then suddenly Osprey gave the call for us to get off. Can't keep formation with Sgt. Fang at your 8, so for now just concentrate on the boss. I managed to stick close to Osprey through take off and our initial circuit, watching Saucy do the same off to the left.
As we climbed towards the Isle of Wight Sgt. Fang made contact and we manoeuvred into position. Just then I heard Robo announce, "Jerry crates at two o'clock low," and we were off on the hunt. I was so busy looking for the Hun as we wheeled northwards that I lost sight of Fang again, and so opted to follow Osprey into the attack. Ahead of us I could see that some of 501 had cut the corner and were diving on Jerry giving me a fine view as they set one of the bombers aflame! I followed Osprey down onto the leftmost group, saw a couple of puffs of white as he nicked the tail of their leader, but was so busy trying to not collide with the krauts that I didn't bring my guns to bear. Osprey had pulled up into a steep loop and I followed him up and over, but managed to starve my carburettors as I straightened out, losing some ground. Still, the boss was still in sight so I dived after him as we came at jerry for a second pass.
I saw another 88 go down in flames as we closed back up. The six on the west are being chewed up nicely, take a gander at the middle group. I followed Osprey in a slight left climb then let my guns loose as my nose slewed across a lone bomber - in less than a second I saw hits to his starboard engine, cockpit, then all the way back down his fuselage and across his tail before the last shells went whizzing off into empty space. I barrelled past him from his low five o'clock to a high nine, then looped back down across his nose heading south. I don't know what happened to him but he took a lot of damage and looked pretty sickly as I left him. I doubt he made it home...
Concentrate. Forget him, he's behind you now, in all senses of the word. Osprey has looped to the right again, best go and follow him. Eyes ahead, stay sharp, fight. Ahead of me, off towards Ryde, I saw the two lead vics of the bomber formation being chased down by at least five of the 501 boys. I kept my speed up as we dove towards the pack, catching up fast with gravity on our side. Osprey joined the hunt on the eastern vic, but there was no room for me so I closed in on the lead aircraft on the west.
"109 coming in at the back of the formation," came Saucy's voice on R/T. Don't panic. 'Back of the formation' is a ways back from here, and even if it isn't, there are five or six other hurricanes around you. The odds are definitely in your favour...
I let my plane do the work, turning the dive into a gentle climb as I closed the last few yards. "109 on a Hurricane, closing at the rear." Bonkin's voice this time. Too late to do anything about it now, the 88 is filling your whole screen. Just pray it isn't you he's talking about, and squeeze the trigger.
So here we are. I squeeze the trigger. The .303s roar to life, sending tracer, AP, incendiary and DeWilde thudding into the Jerry's starboard wing. The first few miss the engine and rip through that bloody great cross by the right aileron. The next few ping off the cowling of the great Jumo engines. Nearly there. The blink of an eye and you'll blow the cockpit right off her!
"Break, break."
Then a sudden, instantaneous black.
Claims:
Destroyed: None
Probable: None
Damaged: 2 x Ju 88
Losses:
Pilot: Jam and Spam cockpit lining
Plane: Bits of it will be confusing metal-detectorists on the beaches of the Isle of Wight for years. The rest may one day feature in a Time Team special.
Last edited by Broadsword on Mon Sep 29, 2014 11:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I must go up to the skies again, to the peace of silent flight, To the gull’s way, and the hawk’s way, and the free wings’ delight;
And all I ask is a friendly joke with a laughing fellow rover, And a large beer, and a deep sleep, when the long flight’s over.
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Squadron: No. 64 Squadron
Squadron Code: SH
Pilot Name: Fenris
Type: Spitfire Ia 100 octane
Marking:F
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
I got some good hits into a 109, he was last seen venting and heading for the deck.
Alone at 23 angels over the beach i suddenly found myself in company with 5 109's.
I started a steep dive to get down to 10k, but i had to manouver as i was being chased and ended up snapping off a wing.
Parachuted safely to the ground.
Claims:
Damaged: 1xBF109
Losses:
AC: destroyed
Pilot: OK
Squadron Code: SH
Pilot Name: Fenris
Type: Spitfire Ia 100 octane
Marking:F
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
I got some good hits into a 109, he was last seen venting and heading for the deck.
Alone at 23 angels over the beach i suddenly found myself in company with 5 109's.
I started a steep dive to get down to 10k, but i had to manouver as i was being chased and ended up snapping off a wing.
Parachuted safely to the ground.
Claims:
Damaged: 1xBF109
Losses:
AC: destroyed
Pilot: OK
- Fluffy slippers on, gun button to fire! -
-
Maltloaf
- Posts: 1809
- Joined: Sun Jun 22, 2014 10:07 pm
- Location: Salisbury Plain, birthplace of British military aviation.
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Squadron: No. 64 Squadron
Squadron Code: SH-I
Pilot Name: Maltloaf
Type: Spitfire Ia 100 octane
Marking: I for Ink
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Another good turnout for B Flt, all present and correct. Took off as Blue 3. Climbed to 22k and engaged 109s over north edge of Southampton Water whilst the Hurris mess about with the 88s. Blue Section stayed as close and tight behind Luke for the first few engagements with Blue Leader and Blue 2 getting kills. Eventually became split up in the melee but regrouped twice more. Comms and team work felt tight.
Had two lengthy tussles with 109s, sent one home bleeding glycol and may have got the other one if my TrackIR hadn’t been playing up.
Landed just after the other two unscathed
Claims:
Confirmed: 0.
Probable: 0
Damaged: 1
Losses:
AC: OK
Pilot: OK
Squadron Code: SH-I
Pilot Name: Maltloaf
Type: Spitfire Ia 100 octane
Marking: I for Ink
Date: 13 Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Another good turnout for B Flt, all present and correct. Took off as Blue 3. Climbed to 22k and engaged 109s over north edge of Southampton Water whilst the Hurris mess about with the 88s. Blue Section stayed as close and tight behind Luke for the first few engagements with Blue Leader and Blue 2 getting kills. Eventually became split up in the melee but regrouped twice more. Comms and team work felt tight.
Had two lengthy tussles with 109s, sent one home bleeding glycol and may have got the other one if my TrackIR hadn’t been playing up.
Landed just after the other two unscathed
Claims:
Confirmed: 0.
Probable: 0
Damaged: 1
Losses:
AC: OK
Pilot: OK
"I have never once lost my gratitude for those who were the sentinels and held the line between tyranny and civilisation"
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Date: Aug. 13, 1940
Time:14:30 hrs.
Squadron Code: SH
Pilot Name: Dange
Base: Tangmere
Type: Spitfire Ia (100)
Marking: M for Mother
Serial number: N 3122
Position # 3 Gold : Good takeoff and formed on lead ( Tyrone ) , and company for #2 gold ( Fenris ). Climbed to 20\22 K. Spotted bombers and 109's for high cover. Engaged one and lost track of him. Picked up another 109 and scored some hits. Low on fuel (?) and altitude headed back to base. Had to divert to Thorney Island.
Claims:
Confirmed: 0.
Probable: 0
Damaged: 1
Losses:
AC: OK
Pilot: OK
Time:14:30 hrs.
Squadron Code: SH
Pilot Name: Dange
Base: Tangmere
Type: Spitfire Ia (100)
Marking: M for Mother
Serial number: N 3122
Position # 3 Gold : Good takeoff and formed on lead ( Tyrone ) , and company for #2 gold ( Fenris ). Climbed to 20\22 K. Spotted bombers and 109's for high cover. Engaged one and lost track of him. Picked up another 109 and scored some hits. Low on fuel (?) and altitude headed back to base. Had to divert to Thorney Island.
Claims:
Confirmed: 0.
Probable: 0
Damaged: 1
Losses:
AC: OK
Pilot: OK
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Form 540
Mission 24
Squadron 64
Date: 13th August 1940
Time: 1500 hrs
Aerodrome: Tangmere
Base: Kenley
Aeroplane: Spitfire 1a (100oct) / SH-W Serial number: K9964
Synopsis:
Our squadron had now been divided into two new groups, Flights 'A' and 'B'.
Flight 'A' consisting of six Spitfires tasked to support Hurricanes from 501 Squadron while the remaining Flight 'B' were to cover Hurricanes from 615 Squadron, these were now already taking-off while our chaps followed behind.
I was assigned to Flight 'A' as Red Two, Nitrous was leading our section from the rear as Red One with Wiggs as Red Three, Vranac was in front leading with his wing men, Raptor and Redeye.
After endless waiting, strapped in our cockpits, canopy open, getting hotter and hotter in the afternoon sun, the signal was finally given for us to start our engines and to quickly follow the other Hurricanes.
Thankfully we all managed to get airborne from Tangmere without mishap on a south west heading, climbing steeply arriving over the Isle Of Wight well above twenty thousand feet, soon we were making contrails. 'We are to high!' I kept muttering, concerned that our presents will be easily noticed. RDF reporting enemy contacts further north west below our altitude, Wiggs and I were following Nitrous as he turned right into a shallow dive, initially towards Southampton then turning left, spotting a large group bombers below heading back home south, 'pick your target', they were Ju88's. Nitrous appeared to choose the left side, while I close in on a more lone one on the far right, closing speed was to high as I only manage a short spurt of a couple of seconds, though making some noticeable hits as I sharply pull away to climb. I then find myself behind a 109, it peels over into a dive, I give chase for a only brief moment as it further dives even lower, decided not wise to follow I level off and climb to retain height.
I further engage with another 109, remaining on it six as it corkscrewed several times, until it eventually levels out, as I closed, as usually, I find another 109 on my six which forced me to break off the engagement, this happened repeatedly, either, I spot an adversary or I experiencing the dreaded tracers whizzing by my canopy, in either case it's no joy going alone or watching a 109 gradually distance itself while your spitfire is at full throttle with the radiator half shut and temps rising!
While my Spit was not actually suffering damage and by that time the main bomber formations was now way beyond mid channel south of the Isle Of Wight, I decided to RTB.
Claims
Destroyed:0
Probable: 0
Damaged:1
Pilot status: OK
A/C : OK
Mission 24
Squadron 64
Date: 13th August 1940
Time: 1500 hrs
Aerodrome: Tangmere
Base: Kenley
Aeroplane: Spitfire 1a (100oct) / SH-W Serial number: K9964
Synopsis:
Our squadron had now been divided into two new groups, Flights 'A' and 'B'.
Flight 'A' consisting of six Spitfires tasked to support Hurricanes from 501 Squadron while the remaining Flight 'B' were to cover Hurricanes from 615 Squadron, these were now already taking-off while our chaps followed behind.
I was assigned to Flight 'A' as Red Two, Nitrous was leading our section from the rear as Red One with Wiggs as Red Three, Vranac was in front leading with his wing men, Raptor and Redeye.
After endless waiting, strapped in our cockpits, canopy open, getting hotter and hotter in the afternoon sun, the signal was finally given for us to start our engines and to quickly follow the other Hurricanes.
Thankfully we all managed to get airborne from Tangmere without mishap on a south west heading, climbing steeply arriving over the Isle Of Wight well above twenty thousand feet, soon we were making contrails. 'We are to high!' I kept muttering, concerned that our presents will be easily noticed. RDF reporting enemy contacts further north west below our altitude, Wiggs and I were following Nitrous as he turned right into a shallow dive, initially towards Southampton then turning left, spotting a large group bombers below heading back home south, 'pick your target', they were Ju88's. Nitrous appeared to choose the left side, while I close in on a more lone one on the far right, closing speed was to high as I only manage a short spurt of a couple of seconds, though making some noticeable hits as I sharply pull away to climb. I then find myself behind a 109, it peels over into a dive, I give chase for a only brief moment as it further dives even lower, decided not wise to follow I level off and climb to retain height.
I further engage with another 109, remaining on it six as it corkscrewed several times, until it eventually levels out, as I closed, as usually, I find another 109 on my six which forced me to break off the engagement, this happened repeatedly, either, I spot an adversary or I experiencing the dreaded tracers whizzing by my canopy, in either case it's no joy going alone or watching a 109 gradually distance itself while your spitfire is at full throttle with the radiator half shut and temps rising!
While my Spit was not actually suffering damage and by that time the main bomber formations was now way beyond mid channel south of the Isle Of Wight, I decided to RTB.
Claims
Destroyed:0
Probable: 0
Damaged:1
Pilot status: OK
A/C : OK
Re: Adlerangriff. Mission 25: 13th August (1. Portsmouth 143
Squadron: No. 501 "County of Gloucester" Squadron
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Dave
Date: 13th Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100 Oct
Marking: W for William
Serial: P3141
Synopsis:
In retrospect I'd probably have to agree with what one of the erks later told me - "you picked a hell of a day to join us, didn't you?" I turned up that morning, fresh out of OTU, with barely more hours on Hurricanes than you can count on your fingers. I was one of the newer breed of pilots - the ones shoved through training quick as possible after 1940 rolled around and it became clear Adolf wasn't going to be talked out of invading half the Continent. Most of the chaps here at 501 had clearly been around for a while - many of them professional flyers since before the war, no doubt.
This wasn't exactly the first time I'd gone through the trials of a new job (you took what you could get in the '30s, even in a decently well-off family like mine), but I was happy to be here at least. Dear old dad served in the dreadful horror that was the trenches in the last war - and I decided long before 1940 that if I was going into the services, I jolly well wasn't going to don khaki with the other Pongos and spend the war peeling spuds and crawling about in the mud. Probably a good thing too, considering what happened to a lot of the poor buggers in the BEF.
I expected the usual "new boy" ribbing, but truth be told there wasn't much of it. No.501 seemed like a thoroughly decent bunch, but you could tell the moment they saw me they knew just how inexperienced I was, and most seemed to keep a bit of a distance. A lump in my throat formed as I eventually pieced two and two together and began to realize it was probably because they didn't expect me to be around for long. In my head I met that with equal parts apprehension (the sight of Tangmere wing's wounded birds coming in to roost in dribs and drabs during the morning didn't help) but also brash determination to prove them wrong. Somehow. Exactly how I wasn't sure, but youthful enthusiasm in this case seemed a satisfactory substitute for common sense.
When I got down to dispersal however, it turned out I was shoved into Red section, flying as the Wingco's number two, which took the wind out of my sails a tad I must say. No pressure, eh? Osprey was a good egg of course, gave me the usual "stick to me like glue, and keep your six clean" advice doled out to new pilots, and wasn't as intimidating as I might have expected from a fellow of his rank. That still didn't help much, of course - merely being up there at the front of the queue so to speak, was enough to thoroughly rattle my nerves all by itself.
It wasn't long before we watched No.615 and A Flight from No.64 scrambling off into the blue to meet a wave of huns heading for the Southampton area. Meanwhile 501 waited on standby, many of us in our cockpits ready to go - myself included. As it turns out by the time the call to scramble came I was near delirious with the heat. I'd gotten into the habit during my time at OTU of flying with my canopy open more often than my instructors liked, since to me it seemed more natural after all those hours flying open-topped Magisters. As such I flew with gloves on, a big scarf and a nice thick Irvin jacket to boot, which is fine once you're up and away, but firmly on the ground on a sunny August afternoon? Not so much. I was already feeling a bit wobbly thanks to nervousness alone - this didn't help.
Mercifully, I got airborne without a hitch, even with the pressure of the entire squadron assembled right behind me at takeoff, and we started gaining Angels as fast as possible in the direction of the Isle of Wight. 615 had already given the jerries a bit of a pasting, and our job was to intercept them on their way out from the target back towards France. Before long, we spotted the formations - Ju88s, with no escorts in sight, and we made a head-on pass right in front of them. I managed to get an '88 in my sights, but with the rate of closure being so fast, my aim was off - I blasted away with a 2 second burst only to see most of it spark harmlessly off the outboard section of the starboard wing.
I pulled up, looped around and came back towards the formation from the rear. Unfortunately however I lost track of the rest of red section in the pull-out and found myself alone at the back watching the whole battle swarming in front of me. It was at this moment I saw a 109 diving steeply in on the rest of the squadron currently engaged with the bombers. I pulled the tit, pushed the engine as hard as it would go and gave chase - the messer closed in on one hurricane and let fly a panicky burst before breaking off to port. I followed, cutting the turn and once I was within about 300 yards I opened fire with 3 consecutive 1 second bursts, noting multiple impacts on his wing roots and rear fuselage. He immediately nose-dived straight for the deck, and I elected not to pursue, instead breaking off and heading to regroup with the others, under the assumption that the Messerschmidt was safely out of the fight for the time being.
With the first wave of bombers dealt with the squadron regrouped over Newport before attacking the next formation. I came in from the rear, about 100 yards behind Osprey, him taking the right-hand bomber of the left-most VIC and I taking the leader. I closed in to 150 yards and fired a 3-4 second burst at the port engine which began streaming oil heavily. I looped around as before, and came back to attack him again. Someone else must have hit him because he was streaming oil from the starboard engine too now. I gave him another 2-second burst and pulled off, with him leaking glycol from the port engine, but still flying.
I looped around yet again, and closed in on another Ju88 streaming glycol from both engines. I gave him a quick squirt as a going-away present and broke off just as I heard the call "109s in the back!" over the R/T. I pulled up into a steep climbing turn and started peering around to my rear. I hadn't been checking my six regularly and so simultaneously cursed my negligence and thanked my lucky stars that none of the huns had taken advantage of it. All the bombers were heavily damaged and going down by this point so I turned towards a swarm of single-seaters. Looking down I caught sight of a yellow-nose in a shallow turn below me. I heard Robo crying out over the radio "he's turning - he's dead!"
Without much hesitation I dove in after him with Bunny and Robo in tow, and let fly a pair of two-second bursts, peppering his fuselage. After the second burst, he quickly lost speed and flopped over onto his belly, right into Robo's sights, who then set the doomed messer on fire with a single burst. It was an amazing sight to see - and there was much in the way of congratulations yelled over the radio as the 109 plummeted to the earth. I didn't see a chute.
At this point I was practically bouncing off the sides of the cockpit with all the adrenaline rushing through me, and having completely lost track of red section I opted to pull in next to blue leader as I went about gathering my wits ready to face the last formation of bombers. It didn't take us long to find them, and we came roaring in at high speed from their 5 o'clock. Teepee made a right old mess of the left-most bomber, belching smoke and glycol all over the shop. I closed in on the next one to the right, but only managed a brief squirt to no visible effect before my belts ran dry. I pulled off, and stayed to observe the rest of the RAF planes make their attacks (we were by this point a jumbled mess of 501, 615 and 64 squadrons) before heading for home.
I came in on a much longer than normal approach to the field, and am ashamed to say somewhat botched the landing. I lost too much speed before reaching the strip, and ended up doing an impromptu touch-and-go on the main road just south of the field. I imagine anyone driving along there at the time must have had quite a shock! Came to a halt on the field without further incident and taxied over to join the others watching the rest of the wing come in to land. Once my hands had stopped shaking like leaves, I clambered out and headed off to find a cup of tea - or hopefully something a bit stronger. I was rather saddened to learn that Broadsword, another new pilot with me on red flight hadn't made it home, but I did get a morale-boosting pat on the back for that second 109 from Robo. Seems with a bit of luck I might be able to make it to 20 hours on the Hurricane after all.
Claims:
1 Me 109 damaged, 1 Me 109 destroyed (shared with Robo and Bunny), 2 Ju88s damaged.
Losses:
A/C - Overheated and low on fuel
Pilot - In rather similar condition to the aircraft.
Squadron Code: SD
Pilot Name: Dave
Date: 13th Aug 1940 1430, Portsmouth
Base: Tangmere
Type: Hawker Hurricane Ia 100 Oct
Marking: W for William
Serial: P3141
Synopsis:
In retrospect I'd probably have to agree with what one of the erks later told me - "you picked a hell of a day to join us, didn't you?" I turned up that morning, fresh out of OTU, with barely more hours on Hurricanes than you can count on your fingers. I was one of the newer breed of pilots - the ones shoved through training quick as possible after 1940 rolled around and it became clear Adolf wasn't going to be talked out of invading half the Continent. Most of the chaps here at 501 had clearly been around for a while - many of them professional flyers since before the war, no doubt.
This wasn't exactly the first time I'd gone through the trials of a new job (you took what you could get in the '30s, even in a decently well-off family like mine), but I was happy to be here at least. Dear old dad served in the dreadful horror that was the trenches in the last war - and I decided long before 1940 that if I was going into the services, I jolly well wasn't going to don khaki with the other Pongos and spend the war peeling spuds and crawling about in the mud. Probably a good thing too, considering what happened to a lot of the poor buggers in the BEF.
I expected the usual "new boy" ribbing, but truth be told there wasn't much of it. No.501 seemed like a thoroughly decent bunch, but you could tell the moment they saw me they knew just how inexperienced I was, and most seemed to keep a bit of a distance. A lump in my throat formed as I eventually pieced two and two together and began to realize it was probably because they didn't expect me to be around for long. In my head I met that with equal parts apprehension (the sight of Tangmere wing's wounded birds coming in to roost in dribs and drabs during the morning didn't help) but also brash determination to prove them wrong. Somehow. Exactly how I wasn't sure, but youthful enthusiasm in this case seemed a satisfactory substitute for common sense.
When I got down to dispersal however, it turned out I was shoved into Red section, flying as the Wingco's number two, which took the wind out of my sails a tad I must say. No pressure, eh? Osprey was a good egg of course, gave me the usual "stick to me like glue, and keep your six clean" advice doled out to new pilots, and wasn't as intimidating as I might have expected from a fellow of his rank. That still didn't help much, of course - merely being up there at the front of the queue so to speak, was enough to thoroughly rattle my nerves all by itself.
It wasn't long before we watched No.615 and A Flight from No.64 scrambling off into the blue to meet a wave of huns heading for the Southampton area. Meanwhile 501 waited on standby, many of us in our cockpits ready to go - myself included. As it turns out by the time the call to scramble came I was near delirious with the heat. I'd gotten into the habit during my time at OTU of flying with my canopy open more often than my instructors liked, since to me it seemed more natural after all those hours flying open-topped Magisters. As such I flew with gloves on, a big scarf and a nice thick Irvin jacket to boot, which is fine once you're up and away, but firmly on the ground on a sunny August afternoon? Not so much. I was already feeling a bit wobbly thanks to nervousness alone - this didn't help.
Mercifully, I got airborne without a hitch, even with the pressure of the entire squadron assembled right behind me at takeoff, and we started gaining Angels as fast as possible in the direction of the Isle of Wight. 615 had already given the jerries a bit of a pasting, and our job was to intercept them on their way out from the target back towards France. Before long, we spotted the formations - Ju88s, with no escorts in sight, and we made a head-on pass right in front of them. I managed to get an '88 in my sights, but with the rate of closure being so fast, my aim was off - I blasted away with a 2 second burst only to see most of it spark harmlessly off the outboard section of the starboard wing.
I pulled up, looped around and came back towards the formation from the rear. Unfortunately however I lost track of the rest of red section in the pull-out and found myself alone at the back watching the whole battle swarming in front of me. It was at this moment I saw a 109 diving steeply in on the rest of the squadron currently engaged with the bombers. I pulled the tit, pushed the engine as hard as it would go and gave chase - the messer closed in on one hurricane and let fly a panicky burst before breaking off to port. I followed, cutting the turn and once I was within about 300 yards I opened fire with 3 consecutive 1 second bursts, noting multiple impacts on his wing roots and rear fuselage. He immediately nose-dived straight for the deck, and I elected not to pursue, instead breaking off and heading to regroup with the others, under the assumption that the Messerschmidt was safely out of the fight for the time being.
With the first wave of bombers dealt with the squadron regrouped over Newport before attacking the next formation. I came in from the rear, about 100 yards behind Osprey, him taking the right-hand bomber of the left-most VIC and I taking the leader. I closed in to 150 yards and fired a 3-4 second burst at the port engine which began streaming oil heavily. I looped around as before, and came back to attack him again. Someone else must have hit him because he was streaming oil from the starboard engine too now. I gave him another 2-second burst and pulled off, with him leaking glycol from the port engine, but still flying.
I looped around yet again, and closed in on another Ju88 streaming glycol from both engines. I gave him a quick squirt as a going-away present and broke off just as I heard the call "109s in the back!" over the R/T. I pulled up into a steep climbing turn and started peering around to my rear. I hadn't been checking my six regularly and so simultaneously cursed my negligence and thanked my lucky stars that none of the huns had taken advantage of it. All the bombers were heavily damaged and going down by this point so I turned towards a swarm of single-seaters. Looking down I caught sight of a yellow-nose in a shallow turn below me. I heard Robo crying out over the radio "he's turning - he's dead!"
Without much hesitation I dove in after him with Bunny and Robo in tow, and let fly a pair of two-second bursts, peppering his fuselage. After the second burst, he quickly lost speed and flopped over onto his belly, right into Robo's sights, who then set the doomed messer on fire with a single burst. It was an amazing sight to see - and there was much in the way of congratulations yelled over the radio as the 109 plummeted to the earth. I didn't see a chute.
At this point I was practically bouncing off the sides of the cockpit with all the adrenaline rushing through me, and having completely lost track of red section I opted to pull in next to blue leader as I went about gathering my wits ready to face the last formation of bombers. It didn't take us long to find them, and we came roaring in at high speed from their 5 o'clock. Teepee made a right old mess of the left-most bomber, belching smoke and glycol all over the shop. I closed in on the next one to the right, but only managed a brief squirt to no visible effect before my belts ran dry. I pulled off, and stayed to observe the rest of the RAF planes make their attacks (we were by this point a jumbled mess of 501, 615 and 64 squadrons) before heading for home.
I came in on a much longer than normal approach to the field, and am ashamed to say somewhat botched the landing. I lost too much speed before reaching the strip, and ended up doing an impromptu touch-and-go on the main road just south of the field. I imagine anyone driving along there at the time must have had quite a shock! Came to a halt on the field without further incident and taxied over to join the others watching the rest of the wing come in to land. Once my hands had stopped shaking like leaves, I clambered out and headed off to find a cup of tea - or hopefully something a bit stronger. I was rather saddened to learn that Broadsword, another new pilot with me on red flight hadn't made it home, but I did get a morale-boosting pat on the back for that second 109 from Robo. Seems with a bit of luck I might be able to make it to 20 hours on the Hurricane after all.
Claims:
1 Me 109 damaged, 1 Me 109 destroyed (shared with Robo and Bunny), 2 Ju88s damaged.
Losses:
A/C - Overheated and low on fuel
Pilot - In rather similar condition to the aircraft.