65 Squadron, Tangmere, 29 August 1940Our next show is another scramble, to intercept a raid heading towards the airfield at Gosport, just west of Portsmouth. We manage to field 11 Spitfires...
...and are soon on our way.
Contrary to the briefing, according to Peter Jacobs's 'Airfields of 11 Group', Gosport was not a Fighter Command satellite airfield, being a Coastal Command station not used by the fighter boys. Still, it was bombed on 12, 16 and 18 August.
Be that as it may, we are soon turning left and leaving Tangmere behind.
Canopy closed, I lead the pack on what should be a short hop, more concerned with putting on enough height than missing the raid altogether.
A check with the Controller back in the Sector Ops Room at Tangmere confirms we are still in business and heading the right way. Although the enemy's height is now given as 17,000 feet, a couple of thousand more than first reported.
Up we go! I'm flat out and pulling slightly ahead.
Another check with the Controller brings the unwelcome news that he has lost track of the raid, or no longer intends fro us to intercept it. We're left to patrol Gosport in the hope the situation will change.
We're not the only aircraft in the area, however. A flight of what I take to be other RAF fighters is slipping out towards the Channel. A patrol on its way to a convoy, perhaps?
They disappear into the haze to the south-west. I'm tempted to follow them, in case they know something we don't, but orders are orders.
We reach out patrol area and start to orbit. Another check with the Controller confirms the situation is unchanged and there are now no Bandits for us to intercept.
Yet another RAF patrol is heading out to sea. Or perhaps it's the same one, coming and going, patrolling its own assigned beat.
Hurricanes, they are, from 56 Squadron.
They too soon disappear out to seaward.
Our time is up and I decide just to go home. I lose height only slowly in case the Huns show up after all, but further checks with the Controller draw a blank.
When we reach Tangmere, the boys peel off to the right and go down.
Bit of a waste of 100 octane and engine hours, but at least we all made it back in one piece. I'm very well aware that we mightn't be so lucky, next time up. In the meantime, there is some good news - my two Junkers 88s are confirmed destroyed!