COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

CHAPTER SIX DYING REICH
reached a prison camp and he eventually found his way back to the
Wing.
We moved onto German soil wondering what to expect. But the
satisfaction was real enough as the Wing formed up and set course for
Drope to the northeast of Lingen. Sixty or more Typhoons cruising
low, over the homeland of a broken enemy, on a route surrounded by
landmarks familiar from months of fighting. Now all was peaceful.
The Wehrmacht and the flak guns had gone. But the war was not over
yet. So we flew in battle formation searching the skies for danger.
In my battledress pocket was a piece of paper newly issued to
every pilot. A Union Jack in full colour and a message to our Russian
allies, which started with the words 'Ya Englichanin', obviously
intended to increase the chances of surviving a forced landing in
Russian occupied territory. It underlined the unpleasant fact that they
were already besieging Berlin for there was almost total distrust of
Stalin and his evil regime.
We never talked about the end of the war. To do so might raise
images of survival and these could be counter productive. Better to live
with what you had come to accept after many months on ops - after
seeing what happened to those around you - a growing awareness of
your own vulnerability and the idea that you too might not survive.
Better by far to soldier on as if the odds were unchanged. Otherwise
you might be tempted not to press home your attacks. It was not so
much a matter of courage as a form of self protection.
At another level the end of hostilities would mean the loss of a way
of life that, incredible as it may seem, many of us had come to cherish.
The wonderful camaraderie of a front line squadron in which
possessions and class played no part - and what mattered were basic
human values - skill, integrity and trust. Add the challenge and
uncertainty of operational flying and a modern, heavily armed, fighter
aircraft at your fingertips. Small wonder if we continued living for the
present.
As for the Germans - fanatical in defeat - we might well be faced
with a period of final redoubts, of Luftwaffe remnants carrying out
suicide missions. Who could tell how and when it might all end?
Allan Wyse, our last recruit, joined the Squadron just after we got
to Drope. A first class sportsman and a natural pilot he had reached a
Bomber OTU, flying Halifaxes, before they decided that he was too
short to cope. Transferred to fighters, he had suffered the trauma of
hearing that the rest of his crew had been shot down and killed on
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