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

Walter and his men were now in deep trouble. As the Zerstörers and
now bomb-free Me 109s pulled out of their dives, they had to somehow
escape from the British fighters opening fire behind them. Walter also knew
that he was now getting low on fuel. Somehow, he had to get away.
Banking hard he turned and headed south, but there was a Hurricane on his
tail and, no matter how hard he tried, Walter could not shake him off.
Heading south, Walter dropped lower and lower, hoping to hedge-hop, but
still the Hurricane was there and his bullets were now beginning to hit
home.
Watching this last battle were Daidie Penna and her mother, who had just
finished their tea and went out to watch the spectacle as the swirling mass
of German and British planes rolled ten miles south-east from Croydon and
passed right over Tadworth. Daidie enjoyed watching the aircraft come
over, which in the last few days had become a regular feature of the day. To
begin with they could not see anything, but then the planes emerged from
behind the trees. Daidie was struck by the haphazard way in which they
were flying. It was hardly surprising: she was watching the remnants of
Erpro 210 desperately struggling home. One was flying very erratically,
smoke gushing behind it.
‘See that? Looks a bit odd,’ she said to her mother.
‘It’s only his exhaust.’
At that moment there was a heavy explosion, followed by a number of
Hurricanes diving down upon them. This was a flight of 32 Squadron,
hastily scrambled from Biggin. The siren now went off in Dorking, and,
rather reluctantly, Daidie called her children and led them indoors. She
found it rather frustrating sitting inside with the roar of aircraft and chatter
of machine guns going on around them, and wanted to go back out and
watch.
Meanwhile, Walter Rubensdörrfer was losing his own personal battle.
England was becoming larger again the lower he flew. Over the fields and
oast houses of Kent, he limped on, but then a bullet punctured a fuel tank
and flames began rippling along his wing and fuselage. He needed to find
somewhere to land, and very quickly, but it was easier said than done,
especially now the controls were like lead in his hands. The flames were
growing, molten pieces of aluminium dripping from his stricken Zerstörer.