大象传媒

The aerodrome was in a terrible mess, there were three craters on the edge of the runway and the whole field was strewn with the wreckage of the Blenheim. In the dark, I found Harry and we worked together throwing debris off the runway and trying to keep up each other's spirits. Once we heard the ominous swishing of bombs falling fairly near.
Someone yelled to get down, though that was not necessary because for the second time that night, I was flat on my face but this time in sticky mud. The bombs were far enough away to cause me no trouble. There must have been over a hundred officers and airmen of all ranks working like slaves to get the job finished in time. After an hour the Group Captain called out to clear away for him to inspect the runway. By the headlights of a car, it was seen that one half of the width of the tarmac was clear. Orders were given to move the Glim lamps to the middle of the concrete path.
Then the machines were signalled to come back singly to make their landings. They were told to put the aircraft down accurately or they would hit bomb craters on the one side or deep mud on the other. There were no Jerry kites over as 'B' for Bertie made the first approach. He was a bit too far to port and a main wheel hit a crater and swung the huge machine round. At about 80mph 'B' crashed into a Fordson tractor, but miraculously neither the driver nor any of the aircrew were injured badly. As Bertie had done no damage to the Flare Path, the next aeroplane was signalled in. The Flight Commander decided that it would be better for the landings if the flood light was turned on. On a clear night, this light, from the air, is visible for about 20 miles, so I was thinking he was mad to put it on, with every chance of Jerry seeing it. However this was a situation that called for emergency measures as we had two more machines to get down somehow.
Anyway the next two kites were down safely and then I saw my own machine winking it's morse 'J' on the downward ident. light. I felt a bit apprehensive about this landing because Dickie was not too hot on his night landings. It seemed that Harry must have been thinking the same because he murmured "I hope he gets it down in one piece".
Here she came down with the motors spluttering in their idleness. Dickie was a bit too high but he knew it and the engines roared out defiance as 'J' took to the air safely again. It is a big strain on an engine with the sudden acceleration but these motors never faltered. Dickie must have thought that he could do better without the floodlight and signalled the same because on his next approach the light was not put on. My heart stood still for a few moments but to my intense relief the pride of my life was down and braking to a standstill.
I ran over to the front of the kite, while Harry ran over to our dispersal to guide me in. Running in front of the machine with two torches I signalled 'J' to our dispersal point and turned it head into wind. When I signalled OK Dickie stopped the motors and we placed the chocks in front of the main wheels.
Whilst the aircrew were getting out their gear, Harry and I secured everything for the night and checked all switches to be off. After locking the hatch, I sat with the aircrew and waited for the bus to take us back to the station. We exchanged news about the night's happenings.
"It seems as though you have had all the fun here", said Dougie, the Canadian. "We haven't had any fighters, A.A. or even a lousy searchlight to shoot out. It's been like a Cook's tour".
"I shouldn't light up, if I were you, Doug" I said by way of an answer, forestalling his cigarette lighting, "Or you may get more fun than you want; Jerry's still about I think".
We piled into the bus as it rolled up and went to the Flight Office where the crews made out their reports. I learned that the 'All Clear' had sounded so, with Harry, I wandered over to the billet to try to snatch a spot of sleep before the next 'blitz'. The aircrew also trailed off for some grub and then bed. We had all had enough for one night.
After a long period of this kind of life, I was rapidly approaching the state of mind known as 'being bomb-happy' (psycho-neurosis). Even the sound of a lorry clutch whining as it started up made me jump, thinking that it was the siren.
To everybody's intense relief, one day we were ordered to fit overload tanks for the flight to the Middle East. I never worked so willingly in my life, working through most of the raids and going without meals to get finished in time. My greatest dread then was that I would stop a piece of shrapnel and be put in Dock. It was not the thought of injury I dreaded, so much as the fear of being left behind to suffer more of this mental agony.
At 01.30 hours, when I rolled up to 'J' for Johnnie, this time as a passenger, the usual night raid was on. Another fitter was seeing the machine off. When I was aboard in my usual place, the engines were started up. The new bloke, who did not know the idiosyncrasies of my engines, had overprimed the starboard one and a great sheet of flame belched out of the exhaust, a nice sight for any German bomb aimer, I thought. With the motors roaring, I could have heard no warning shriek of a bomb had it come and I had not the slightest vestige of protection. In his hurry to get off, the pilot knocked over two Glim lamps on the Flare Path. Also for some unknown reason, we circled the island one and a half times before making our course. It was no picnic, to be exposed to the fire of our own A.A. should it chose to let bang at us and also we had the chance of meeting a faster Ju 88 which would not have been so good for our poor old Johnnie.
The trip to the M.E. was a boring one; another 7陆 hours flying through ice and rain over the Mediterranean Sea. Once again we went almost 100 miles off course, this time due to an electric storm, but landed safely. As soon as the machine touched down, the port engine packed up and refused to start again so we taxied on one motor. On examination, I found that both magnetos on the port engine had failed and so another few minutes flying would have seen old 'J' vainly struggling on one engine.
I quickly settled down in the M.E. and thought I had a good exchange of bugs and flies for bombing. 'J' for Johnnie had a fairly easy time of it there, not doing so many ops. She was fitted out with dual control and used to break in replacement pilots on night landings. There were no daylight raids but we had several night raids by Heinkels and Focke-Wulfe 4 engined bombers. On one of these the inevitable happened; 'J' for Johnnie caught the full blast of a near miss and was almost written off. However, during 4 weeks repairs, she had 2 new motors, main-planes, a starboard centre section and engine nacelle, a main spar, new props, front-turret and all new tanks; in fact it was almost a new machine.
Then, from up the blue, she was off again on night ops. over Crete, Rhodes Island, Benghazi, Tobruk and Tripoli. On 'J's last trip over Benghazi, she was badly hit by A.A. and was forced down in the Desert, still intact.
A flying column of armoured cars fetched the aircrew from 30 miles behind the enemy lines. Poor old Johnnie was blown up by our men before they left. And so, after doing a grand total of 38 raids, she passed out without ever having had a single casualty to the personnel flying her.
It was a grand record for a bomber but a great blow to me when my machine, 'J' for Johnnie, was the one which 'failed to return to it's base'.

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