Part 56.

December, 1940

AN UNUSUAL COMBAT AND BALE-OUT

BY A FIGHTER FLIGHT LIEUTENANT

This Flight Lieutenant was awarded the Victoria Cross

THAT day was a glorious day. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky and there was hardly a breath of wind anywhere. Our squadron was going towards Southampton on patrol at 15,000 feet when I saw three Junkers 88 bombers about four miles away flying across our bows. I reported this to our squadron-leader and he replied: "Go after them with your section." So I led my section of aircraft round towards the bombers. We chased hard after them, but when we were about a mile behind we saw the 88s fly straight into a squadron of Spitfires. I used to fly a Spitfire myself and I guessed it was curtains for the three Junkers. I was right and they were all shot down in quick time, with no pickings for us. I must confess I was very disappointed, for I had never fired at a Hun in my life and was longing to have a crack at them.

So we swung round again and started to climb up to 18,000 feet over Southampton, to rejoin our squadron. I was still a long way from the squadron when suddenly, very close in rapid succession, I heard four big bangs. They were the loudest noises I had ever heard, and they had been made by four cannon shells from a Messerschmitt 110 hitting my machine.

The first shell tore through the hood over my cockpit and sent splinters into my left eye. One splinter, I discovered later, nearly severed my eyelid. I couldn't see through that eye for blood. The second cannon shell struck my spare petrol tank and set it on fire. The third shell crashed into the cockpit and tore off my right trouser leg.

The fourth shell struck the back of my left shoe. It shattered the heel of the shoe and made quite a mess of my left foot. But I didn't know anything about that, either, until later. Anyway, the effect of these four shells was to make me dive away to the right to avoid further shells. Then I started cursing myself for my carelessness. What a fool I had been, I thought, what a fool!

I was just thinking of jumping out when suddenly a Messerschmitt 110 whizzed under me and got right in my gun-sights. Fortunately, no damage had been done to my windscreens or sights and when I was chasing the Junkers, I had switched everything on. So everything was set for a fight.

I pressed the gun button, for the Messerschmitt was in nice range; I plugged him first time and I could see my tracer bullets entering the German machine. He was going like mad, twisting and turning as he tried to get away from my fire. So I pushed the throttle wide open. Both of us must have been doing about 400 m.p.h. as we went down together in a dive. First he turned left, then right, then left and right again. He did three turns to the right and finally a fourth turn to the left. I remember shouting out loud at him when I first saw him: "I'll teach you some manners, you Hun," and I shouted other things as well. I knew I was getting him nearly all the time I was firing.

By this time it was pretty hot inside my machine from the burst petrol tank. I couldn't see much flame, but I reckon it was there all right. I remember looking once at my left hand which was keeping the throttle open. It seemed to be in the fire itself and I could see the skin peeling off it. Yet I had little pain. Uncon¬sciously too, I had drawn my feet up under my parachute on the seat, to escape the heat, I suppose.

Well, I gave the Hun all I had, and the last I saw of him was when he was going down, with his right wing lower than the left wing. I gave him a parting burst and as he had disappeared, started thinking about saving myself. I decided it was about time I left the aircraft and baled out, so I immediately jumped up from my seat. But first of all I hit my head against the frame-work of the hood, which was all that was left. I cursed myself for a fool, pulled the hood back (wasn't I relieved when it slid back beautifully) and jumped up again. Once again I bounced back into my seat, for I had forgotten to undo the straps holding me in. One of them snapped and so I only had one to undo. Then I left the machine.

I suppose I was about 12 to 15,000 feet when I baled out. Immediately I started somersaulting downwards and after a few turns like that I found myself diving head first for the ground. After a second or two of this, I decided to pull the rip-cord. The result was that I immediately straightened up and began to float down. Then an aircraft—a Messerschmitt, I think—came tearing past me. I decided to pretend I was dead, and hung limply by the parachute straps. The Messerschmitt came back once, and I kept my eyes closed, but I didn't get the bullets I was half expecting. I don't know if he fired at me; the main thing is that I wasn't hit.

While I was coming down like that I had a look at myself. I could see the bones of my left hand showing through the knuckles.

Then for the first time I discovered I'd been wounded in the foot. Blood was oozing out of the lace-holes of my left boot. My right hand was pretty badly burned, too. So I hung down a bit longer and then decided to try my limbs, just to see if they would work—thank goodness they did. I still had my oxygen mask over my face, but my hands were in too bad a state to take it off. I tried to, but I couldn't manage it.

I found, too, that I had lost one trouser-leg and the other was badly torn and my tunic was just like a lot of torn rags, so I wasn't looking very smart. Then, after a bit more of this dangling down business, I began to ache all over and my hands and legs began to hurt a lot.

When I got lower, I saw I was in danger of coming down in the sea. I knew I didn't stand an earthly if I did, because I wouldn't have been able to swim a stroke with my hands like that. So I wriggled about a bit and managed to float inland. Then I saw a high tension cable below me and thought it would finish me if I hit that. So I wriggled a bit more and aimed at a nice open field.

When I was about 100 feet from the ground I saw a cyclist and heard him ring his bell. I was surprised to hear the bicycle-bell and realised that I had been coming down in absolute silence. I bellowed at the cyclist, but I don't suppose he heard me. Finally, I touched down in the field and fell over. Fortunately it was a still day. My parachute just floated down and stayed down without dragging me along, as they sometimes do.

I had a piece of good news almost immediately. One of the people who came along and who had watched the combat, said they had seen the Messerschmitt 110 dive straight into the sea, so it hadn't been such a bad day after all.


Flight Lieutenant J. B. Nicolson, V.C.


Press Release from the Air Ministry in 1940:

AIR MINISTRY NEWS SERVICE

NOT TO BE PUBLISHED BEFORE THE MORNING NEWSPAPERS OF NOVEMBER 15TH,1940, OR BROADCAST BEFORE 0700 HOURS B.S.T. ON THAT DATE.

FIRST V.C. AWARDED TO FIGHTER PILOT.

ROYAL AIR FORCE AWARD NO.132.

The Victoria Cross which has been awarded to Flight Lieutenant J.B. Nicolson (A.M. Bulletin No.2255) is the first V.C. to be won by a fighter pilot since the war began.
He has gained his V.C. for refusing to jump from a blazing Hurricane until he had destroyed his enemy although it was his first fight and he had been twice wounded. For forty-eight hours doctors fought for his life but now he has almost completely recovered.

Flight Lieutenant Nicolson, who is 23, was on patrol near the Southampton area with his squadron on the early afternoon of August 16th. He saw three Junkers 88 bombers crossing the bows of the squadron about four miles away, and he was detailed to chase a Junkers with his section.

He got within a mile of them, and then he saw a squadron of Spitfires attack and shoot them down, so he turned back to join his squadron, climbing from 15,000 to 18,000 feet.
Suddenly, as he himself said, there were four big bangs inside his aircraft. They were cannon shells from a Messerschmitt 110. One tore through the hood and sent splinters to his left eye. The second cannon shell struck his spare petrol tank which exploded, and set the machine on fire. The third shell crashed into the cockpit and tore away his trouser leg. The fourth hit his left boot and wounded his heel.

As Flight Lieutenant Nicolson turned to avoid further shots into his burning aeroplane, he suddenly found that the Me110 had overtaken him and was right in his gunsight. His dashboard was shattered and was, in his own words, "Dripping like treacle" with the heat. The Messerschmitt was two hundred yards in front and both were diving at about 400 m.p.h.
As Flight Lieutenant Nicolson pressed the gun button he could see his right thumb blistering in the heat. He could also see his left hand, which was holding the throttle open, blistering in the flames.

The Messerschmitt zig-zagged this way and that trying to avoid the hail of fire from the blazing Hurricane. By this time the heat was so great that Nicolson had to put his feet on the seat beneath his parachute. He continued the flight for several minutes until the Messerschmitt disappeared in a steep dive. Eyewitnesses later reported that they had seen it crash a few miles out to sea.

On losing sight of the enemy, Nicolson attempted to jump out, but struck his head on the hood above him. He immediately threw back the hood and tried to jump again. Then he realised he had not undone the strap holding him in the cockpit. One of these straps broke. He undid the other, and at last succeeded in jumping out.

He dived head first, and after several somersaults in the air pulled the rip-cord with considerable difficulty. It took him something like twenty minutes to reach the ground.
A Messerschmitt came screaming past, and as he floated down, he pretended that he was dead. When the Me. had gone he noticed for the first time that his left heel had been struck. Blood was oozing out of the lace holes in his boots. He tried to see what other injuries he had received and found that he was able to move all his limbs.

At one moment as he was coming down, he thought he would hit a high tension cable but managed to manoeuvre in the sky so that he missed it. Reaching the ground, he saw a cyclist and managed to land in a field near to him. When help came Flight Lieutenant Nicolson immediately dictated a telegram to his wife in Yorkshire to say that he had been shot down but was safe.

He looked at his watch, and found it still ticking though the glass had melted and the strap had burned to a thread.

"When I saw the Messerschmitt in front of me I remember shouting out, 'I'll teach you some manners you Hun'", he said later, "I am glad I got him, though perhaps pilots who have had more experience of air fighting would have done the wise thing and baled out immediately the aircraft caught fire. I did not think of anything at the time but to shoot him down.

"Curiously enough, although the heat inside must have been intense, in the excitement I did not feel much pain. In fact, I remember watching the skin being burnt off my left hand. All I was concerned about was keeping the throttle open to get my first Hun. I must confess that I felt all in as I came down. I confess too that I might faint, but I did not lose consciousness at all. Thinking of the shock I know follows severe burning I asked the doctors who examined me a shot of morphine just in case.

"All I am anxious about now is to get back to flying and have another crack at the Germans. After all, I feel that after four years training should qualify me for more than one Hun, and I want to have my fair share.

Flight Lieutenant Nicolson, who joined the R.A.F. in 1936 was posted to a Spitfire squadron the following year and stayed with it until he was given command of a flight with his present Hurricane squadron. He was married a year before the war broke out. A month after his fight, his wife gave birth to a son.

His parents live in Buckingham Road, Shoreham.

The young V.C. is about to join his wife and baby for three weeks' leave, but will have to return to the convalescent hospital for further treatment to his hands before he can be pronounced fit.

Last night he took part in the hospital concert, crooning and playing a tin whistle as one of the "Harmony Boys".


Directorate of Public Relations,
Air Ministry,
King Charles St.,
Whitehall, S.W.1.
Issued to M.O.I. at 1553 hours.
Issued by M.O.I. at 1740 hours.
14th November, 1940.

Last edited by RedToo; 04/05/10 05:36 PM.

My 'Waiting for Clod' thread: http://tinyurl.com/bqxc9ee

Always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.
Elie Wiesel. Romanian born Jewish writer, professor, political activist, Nobel Laureate, Holocaust survivor. 1928 - 2016.

Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one - the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts. C.S. Lewis, 1898 - 1963.