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Attack on Alborg Aerodrome
by N1408, B Flight 51 Squadron on 23124th Apri1,1940

By
Donald J.R. Wilson

N1408 crossed the East Coast as usual at Flamborough Head, and headed on course for Alborg. Looking back at the beautiful setting sun, created a false impression of peace and well-being, whereas reality, soon to be experienced, proved to be an unforgettable nightmare. We headed roughly ENE (east-north-east) and didn't have to alter course once during the outward leg. Usually we made use of the lighted beacon on Terschelling Island (Holland), to check our position, but we were too far to the North to make use of this navigational aid.

It was not long before we had positive proof that we were "dead!" on the correct track, as about fifty miles short of the target, we were given the most vivid display of lethal pyrotechnics seen since our first incursions into enemy territory. The entire sky was brilliantly lit up by exploding shells. Searchlights and tracer intermingled to form what appeared to be an impenetrable curtain of fire. So much so that the Captain exclaimed, "We will never get through that ---- lot! What on earth can we do!?" Receiving no useful suggestion from any of his crew, he further pondered the situation, and finally explained his method of approach.

He decided to attack from a less obvious direction, so we altered course in the direction of Christiansund, on the South Coast of Norway. He gained altitude en route, then headed South from the Norwegian town until the Airport of Alborg was within sight. The Germans had been using the aerodrome as a staging post for the invasion of Norway, and it was effectively defended by a ring of A.A. guns on the perimeter.

We cut our engines in an attempt to avoid detection. But as the first bombs dropped, all hell let loose. Tracers were coming up from all directions converging on MH K. The second pilot screamed down the intercom, "Dive, for Christ's sake, dive!" Down went the nose and the rapid increase in speed caused the wings and fuselage to tremble, seemingly to a point of disintegration. The skipper, with Herculean efforts, managed to control the dive and leveled out at ground level. We screamed across the 'drome' with lines of tracer weaving above the cabin and I'm sure we all waited for the crash, which fortunately did not happen.

When we were out of range of the guns, I heard the quite, controlled voice of the captain enquiring, "Navigator, what is the course home?" Apart from the final flight of N1408 this was the occasion which most nearly ended in disaster.

Donald J.R. Wilson, formerly 580878 Air/Obs., B Flight, 51 Squadron, 4 Group,
Bomber Command.

Pr-BR

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