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

at him, but on Tony’s second burst, the Messerschmitt flipped over on to its
back and spiralled out of the sky, engines on fire. The 110s now formed a
defensive circle with the Spitfires wheeling and circling and trying to get
inside it. Allan Wright shot at about five different aircraft. The air was filled
with tracer, arcs of flashing bullets streaming and criss-crossing the sky.
Tony found himself crouching lower in his cockpit to make himself a
smaller target. Allan meanwhile had latched on to one Messerschmitt,
opening fire and following him down until both were hedge-hopping across
France. Out of ammunition and low on fuel, he eventually turned for home.
By the time the squadron had landed back at Hornchurch once more,
they were without a further four of their pilots. Roger Bushell had been shot
down, although he had managed to belly-land east of Boulogne, where he
was captured. Flying Officer Gillies had bailed out and was missing. Paul
Klipsch had been killed, and Paddy Green had been wounded in the leg,
and, having made it to Manston, had been taken to Shorncliffe, where he
joined Arthur Hughes. Tony Bartley had scored his first confirmed kill, but
his Spitfire looked like a colander. ‘Back in the mess,’ noted Tony, ‘we
downed unconscionable pints of beer.’
‘It has been a glorious day for the Squadron,’ the duty officer wrote in
the squadron diary, ‘with twenty-three German machines brought down, but
the loss of the Commanding officer and the three others has been a very
severe blow to us all.’ It was as well they did not know the real score for the
day: four aircraft and pilots lost and a fifth wounded and damaged in return
for five enemy aircraft – that is, honours even.
Allan left the beer-drinking to the others and went and had a bath. It was
only then, as he soaked in the comfort of the hot, steaming water, the
enormity of what had happened and the terrible loss of his friend, Pat,
began to hit home. He could not accept that his clever, brilliant friend, who
had such a promising, fulfilling life ahead of him, was now gone. A
desperate feeling of helpless loss swept over him. ‘And then I broke down
and wept,’ says Allan. ‘I wept in a way that I never had before or have
since.’
That same day, the three Staffeln of I/JG 52 were also flying over Dunkirk
for the first time. The 2nd Staffel had only reached Charleville that
morning, having had a frustrating fortnight flying in support of Army
Group A. ‘I am doing very well,’ Leutnant Ulrich Steinhilper had written to