Looking behind, I see not one, but two yellow-nosed Messerschmitts, the closest clearly about to open fire. My heart drops! It's the end of the line. Just when I was beginning to think I might make it through.

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Instinct takes over and I break violently. No point worrying about tearing the wings off - I’ve nothing to lose. By some miracle, I escape the vicious burst of tracer which whips past.

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Unsurprisingly, my Spitfire spins out and down I go. Rounds whack into my airframe somewhere as I struggle to recover. I halt the spinning and end up in a near vertical dive. The hits have stopped. To keep it that way, I open the throttle again and begin to roll into a turn, while keeping the nose well down. I may still get the chop, but there’s no point making it easy for the b***tards.

Suddenly, one of the Huns is right behind me again and I tighten up the turn. I begin to black out, and am hit again.

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I end up in a steep climbing turn, and take yet more hits.

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Rolling inverted, I go down again, vertically. I'm rapidly running out of options - and now height. If the Huns don’t get me, it looks like terra firma will.

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I ease off the dive and begin to roll into a turn. I want to get right down on the deck, in the hope of scraping that Hun off my back. If that doesn't work, I really am out of options.

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The rooftops rush up to meet me as I finally run out of height.

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I’ve lost sight of the closest Messerschmitt but he’s still going down very steeply, maybe now focussed on survival rather than victory. Those heavy elevators in a dive doomed many a 109, they say.

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Whatever happened, I suddenly realise that my tail is clear! However, a fresh danger looms – I’m running into a balloon barrage! Perhaps that’s why my tormentors seem to have left me.

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Those blasted blimps hem me in on both sides.

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But my some miracle, I seem to have come down in a spot where there’s a gap in the barrage, right ahead!

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Not wanting to push my luck, I start to climb, while re-orienting myself. And keeping an eye out for any 109s which fancy having another go.

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But all seems clear and I head for home, ordering the boys to do likewise. From the response, it seems they are already headed back to base.

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A check of my instruments shows nothing amiss. Despite all the holes I've collected in my kite's wings and fuselage, no critical damage has been done. 'Luck' isn't the word!

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More of those darned balloons loom ahead so I put on a bit more height. It would be really stupid if I let one of them get me, when the 109s couldn't.

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Flying home, I feel like one reprieved from a sentence of death. My relief is all the greater when, back at Tangmere, I discover that we have two aircraft slightly damaged, including my own, but no casualties. And we’re claiming two Huns, again including the one I knocked down. Despite the odds, we drew those 109s away from the bombers - hopefully giving that other squadron I saw a clear run - and roughed them up, good and proper.

We’re still woefully under strength, but morale is actually holding up well. And we’re still more than able to give the more numerous Huns a jolly good pasting. Maybe we can get through this battle - and win it - after all!


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Last edited by 33lima; 01/04/20 07:25 PM.

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