大象传媒

Memories of living near an airbase

I have many vivid memories of the years of WW2 but three stand out in my mind and perhaps give a flavour to the later years of the war.

I was living in Bedfordshire with my mother and sister, and my father when he was on leave from the RAF (in which he served throughout the war, having performed a similar service back in the Army and the Royal Flying Corps in WW1). Bedfordshire was close to East Anglia where the majority of the United States 8th Air Force was situated. Because of this, Flying Fortresses would gather in formation before carrying out long-range daylight raids on German targets. It was great to see the aircraft in tight formation flying out but, oh dear, it was sad to see then limping back. The state some of these aircraft flying over our house left one in wonderment as to how the pilots were keeping them in the air, let alone fly them all the way back from the heart of Germany.

One instance stands out in my mind. It must have been summer 19944 and I heard a noise in the sky which sounded like a thousand dustbins lids being banged together. When the Flying Fortress appeared, it was at best only a few hundred feet above the ground. Two engines were out of action so it was flying on only two and a thin wisp of smoke was coming out of one of them. The end of the starboard wing had been shot away and was hanging on a thin sliver of metal. The fuselage bore numerous holes (presumably from cannon fire) but the most amazing sight was the tail. The rear gunner was distinctly visible in his compartment but between him and the rest of the plane was mainly fresh air as the only thing left holding the tail on were the bare struts of the fuselage. If ever a pilot (and crew) deserved a decoration he did as we all learned that he brought his aircraft down (at Bassing Bourne, I believe) safely. I know this because the next day a photograph of this aircraft appeared in the national press with a full story of how the aircraft had survived.

Most of RAF Bomber Command air bases were also in East Anglia and Lincolnshire and every night one would hear (and see in summer months) aircraft after aircraft going overhead, often for hours at a time when 1000 bomber raids were being carried out. I cannot remember much about their return but I do recall the often heavy losses; for example, in November 1942, I can remember the 大象传媒 announcer saying that 鈥�93 of our aircraft are missing鈥�. As each aircraft had a crew of 7, that meant that 651 men were potentially dead. There was no counselling for the crews who had returned; it was a couple of nights rest and then out again.

On a more personal note, one Sunday evening, in late October/November, the family were having tea around 1800 hours, when we suddenly heard the unmistakable throbbing noise of a Doodlebug engine. The noise was becoming louder by the minute (seconds?) and was clearly heading our way when the engine cut out. This meant only one thing; a very large bomb was falling out of the sky and it was going to land near us. I recall jumping up from the table and opening the back door with the rest of the family behind me. As I did so there was a very large bang, the house shook and I, and everyone else, was thrown from one side of the kitchen to the other. It was the strangest unreal feeling as if one was in another world, driven there by an unseen force. I can assure you 鈥渂last鈥� from an explosion creates a quite unreal feeling. We learned later that the bomb had dropped some two hundreds yards from our house. As a young boy I was very keen to inspect the crater next day 鈥� a very big hole. Thank goodness its鈥� fuel ran out when it did otherwise I might not be writing this now!

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