COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

COMBAT AND COMPETITION
became visible, and it was possible to switch off the ignition, turn off
the fuel and get the mud out of his mouth. We told him not to release
his harness, that we would get him out soon, and to stop apologising.
After that it was a matter of waiting for the crane, the fire tender,
and blood wagon. We lay in the damp earth on each side of the
upturned cockpit and Jock was passing calm, but nothing would stop
the flow of apologies.
It was almost dark by the time he was out and on a stretcher. Only
then did he admit to any injuries. How bad we never discovered for
the doctors were noncommittal when we visited him in hospital. Then
he was gone. Evacuated to England.
Jock was the Squadron's last casualty. Less than a week later - a
week in which amongst other things we destroyed a troop train and a
convoy of thirty trucks - we were disbanded. The AOC, when he
visited us, suggested that it was due to a shortage of trained Typhoon
pilots. Other squadrons were similarly affected. 257 had a proud record
and would live again.....
Some of the pilots went on rest, others were posted round the four
remaining squadrons. Toddy went back to the U K on Mustang IVs and
the Wingco sent me up to the front as a VCP2 Controller.
I set off, greatly displeased by the turn of events. Yet this was an
opportunity to broaden my knowledge of close support and I made a
determined effort to approach it in a positive frame of mind. So much
for good intentions. Stuck at divisional level, on permanent standby,
it seemed as if my services would never be required. Even a request to
visit the forward areas, with the idea of drumming up some unofficial
trade, was turned down.
After almost three weeks of enforced idleness my little team was
suddenly ordered to move up, close to the Rhine, opposite Wesel. The
brigade headquarters to which we had been directed was just moving
into the local bank where they discovered a vast cache of wine. The
slim bottles, packed in straw filled wooden cases, made a mouth
watering sight. Soon after dark we began sampling them, sitting on our
camp beds amongst a jumble of signal wires and the intermittent
ringing of telephone handsets, until our hosts were in some danger of
becoming drunk in charge.
In the morning I woke with a hangover, to the sound of mortar
fire, convinced that our moment of glory was at hand. But nothing
happened - except a signal from Group calling the whole thing off.
The operation to clear the west bank of the Rhine was now in its final
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