COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

CHAPTER FIVE WINTER IN FLANDERS
find some partners for 'Plamondon's Playboys'. Organised, as he
admitted later, through a local seminary, complete with chaperon. He
assured us that there were no nuns!
Perhaps the Squadron diarist was thinking of the latter as he
commented unkindly that:
".....when they appeared, there was speculation that Flight
Lieutenant Simpson 's eyesight might not be up to the standard which the
Service required of its fighter bomber pilots."
Plum went on rest and Derek Erasmus, Rhodesian and a flight
commander from 266 Squadron, was promoted in his place. He took
over as the dreary task of interdiction - depriving the enemy of his V2
supply routes - became top priority and the impact of his arrival was
timely and positive. 'Rastus' was an aggressive and demanding leader.
But we could not have wished for a better commanding officer.
Day after day the clouds hung low over the sodden polders.
Attempts to get through to our targets were frustrated time and again.
Once we were caught running close to a narrow gap in the overcast,
providing the German gunners with excellent tracking data, and our
press-on CO's aircraft was badly damaged. There was outrage in his
voice as he handed over the lead and we started our long descent
towards the target.
I was afraid. Not so much of the enemy but the weather, which
was atrocious, and for the chaps who were with me. Afraid that I
might fail to find the target or bring them safely home.
Below cloud base, skirting a violent storm, reflector sights glowed
ruby red against a receding wall of mist. Rain curtained the railway
line. Lower still, catching the outlines of a level crossing ahead - dim
original of our photograph at briefing. In the final moments we spotted
a repair gang at work and raked their truck with our cannons in a
single flying pass. A burst of tracer reached up to bar the way and
vanished in the surrounding downpour.
More rain obliterated the scene before the first bombs went off. I
pulled up into a turn:
"Bassett White Leader orbiting port three miles south of the target."
And back came an anxious: "Black Four - there's no one ahead of
me!"
That was the last man to attack. What on earth did he mean? Had
all the others bought it? Then reason prevailed and a quick glance
confirmed that four Typhoons - and a distant fifth just visible through
the murk - were closing up rapidly from behind.
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