COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

COMBAT AND COMPETITION
us..... and the glowing streams of tracer..... and a single Typhoon
hurtling earthwards..... What a way to go!
Those who were privileged to serve under his command recall an
extrovert, hell raising Wing Leader. Who feared no man, had no
respect for bureaucratic authority or stupid senior officers. His voice
on the telephone, through the canvas walls of his office on the airfield:
"Baker! BAKER!..... B for Bastard!..... A for Arsehole!..... "
When the occasion demanded he had his own phonetic alphabet!
Above all they remember his last show. And those whom he led on
that occasion have a more personal memory. The groan which went up
at briefing when he announced that they would be going in at 4,000
feet, and his response, so poignant in retrospect:
"What's wrong! - Do you want to live forever?"
A very gallant gentleman. He was awarded a posthumous DSO.
Before we turned in, Pete Langille, 'A' flight's tall gangling
Canadian, told me another story. About Jimmy's battle to get on ops.
Difficult enough, after two years at Cranwell instructing on twins,
without the horrendous crash which he only just survived. He was
unconscious for almost a fortnight, with no memory of the flight on
which it had happened, or of anything else immediately beforehand.
But Jimmy was tough and we were singularly fortunate that we had
acquired him or, more correctly perhaps, that through his own
determination he had managed to acquire us.
That night was typical of many. Silence in the orchard, just a faint
rumble of gunfire in the South, the distant explosions throwing a
curtain of light across the horizon. Before long we slept. Moments
later, or so it seemed, all hell broke loose.
An air attack on the beachhead and, as usual, the occupants of the
orchard were in more danger from the defences. A tent and bedroll
offered no protection from shell splinters and as these rained down,
you sweated it out in bed, tin hat protecting head or crutch. The
alternative, braving the chill night air to sit upright and protect both
at once, was unthinkable!
Sleep returned briefly as the air attack died away only to be
interrupted again by the arrival of a heavy calibre shell. Others
followed at intervals as the enemy kept up his nightly hate. The gun
in question was eventually located in a railway tunnel near Pont
L'Eveque. A low level attack by 197 squadron, led by Johnny Baldwin
who had taken over as Wing Leader, effectively blocked both ends of
the tunnel and stopped that bit of nonsense for good.
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