The Battle of Britain Five Months That Changed History, May—October 1940 by James Holland (z-lib.org).epub

15
Fighter Command Enters the Fray
THE BLENHEIMS OF 18 Squadron – or what few remained after ten days of
battle – left France on 20 and 21 May. Arthur Hughes flew into Lympne in
Kent, a Fleet Air station, and was immediately impressed by the hospitality
of the Royal Navy. ‘They ordered extra food,’ he jotted, ‘the petty officers
ate bully beef so that our sergeants could have the hot meal; they arranged
transport, fixed billets – and by midnight I was relaxing in the luxury of a
hot bath at the Grand Hotel, Folkestone.’
Arthur was one of the lucky ones – in fact, one of just four pilots that
remained. Pilot Officer Light, who had only been married a few days
before, had failed to return; he and his observer – who had been Arthur’s
first ever in the squadron – were never heard of again. Pilot Officer Rees
was shot down on his way back to England, although by a Spitfire of 610
Squadron; he and Sergeant Pusey and a squadron mechanic managed to
escape unhurt, but the aircraft had to be abandoned along with three others
left in France.
The squadron was sent to Watton, in Norfolk, but was still considered
operational. Less than three days after arriving back in England, Arthur was
called at 3 a.m. and told to fly down to Hawkinge in Kent and from there to
fly a mission over France. Ground mist prevented him from carrying out the
planned dawn take-off so it was not before 11 a.m. that he finally got going.
By 3 p.m., he was in the air again, sent off on a recce of Boulogne. Going in
south of the town over Berck-sur-Mer, he then turned and flew up the coast
only to find himself coming under heavy anti-aircraft fire. Smudges of
black smoke were blossoming all around him, but by taking fairly dramatic
evasive action, he escaped, only to hit more flak over Le Touquet. ‘To say
that I was scared would be an understatement,’ he noted. ‘My stomach was
a dead load of lead and my mouth was so dry that my breath rasped, while
my heart was rattling like a Browning.’ Again, however, he managed to
escape the attentions of the German flak gunners, and then, somehow
willing himself on, dropped lower to around a thousand feet to investigate
some suspicious objects to the side of a road which he realized were