Folks,

I waded into a thick fur ball over the Channel last night. Or rather it was afternoon BoB time.

Those determined chaps with crosses on their wings were killing fish and annoying a large British convoy. Streaking to their rescue, a few friends and I arrived over the convoy and I bagged a JU87 early on. Then I caught a 109 at the apex of a loop with a long burst of .303s that certainly hit something important for there was a loud crack and the aircraft(or perhaps the pilot?) began belching black, oily smoke.

The crippled 109 continued over me in its loop and then it fell down behind me. I leveled off and listened for the splash but heard none. Looking down and to my left I saw the yellow-nosed nasty skimming across the waves actually leaving a wake behind him. I've never witnessed that one before. Still, the 109 was a goner and so, with extremely presumptive visions of a sparkly DFC pinned to my best tunic, I soon padlocked yet another.