大象传媒

It was a bright summer afternoon, as we made our way home from the Knoll school. As our small group noisily crossed the Old Shoreham Road, heading for Olive Road, which is a fairly steep hill leading down to Portland Road, a sudden burst of aircraft machine-gun fire made us stop and look up. A lone Spitfire was engaged in target practice; firing at a long canvas windsock, which was being towed by a Lysander from Shoreham. The target plane and fighter flew across our field of vision and vanished from our sight, flying towards Brighton.

We heard several more bursts of fire from the loan Spitfire and then they were gone. We continued on our excited way down Olive Road and had just reached the humped-back road bridge which crossed the main railway line when it happened . . . . .

Another burst of machine gun fire made us jump, it was much closer this time. Suddenly, skimming very low over the roof of the Co-op laundry (the tower of which housed an air raid siren - which remained silent!) came a single engine Fighter Plane.

We looked up and saw it head on, someone cried, ". . . It's the Spitfire . . ."
As the pilot saw us, the angle of the plane changed, the wings tilted, and we saw the black crosses on the wings - a Messerschmitt 109!

I saw tiny jets of flame spurting from the edges of the wings - followed by a rapid chattering noise. We all automatically flung ourselves against the pavement wall, as we had been taught to do, the bullets hit the centre of the road, ricocheting in all directions.

Even now, many years later, I wonder if that pilot was deliberately aiming at us . . . . or was he just a rotten shot.

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