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

48
Last Flight
ON THE LAST SUNDAY in October, the 27th, Ulrich Steinhilper woke up early.
His tent smelled musty, and it was cold; winter was on its way. With some
effort, he pulled back the blankets and got up, staggering over to the
makeshift washstand. He looked tired, he knew, his eyes dark, his cheeks
thin. But he was tired. He had flown over 150 combat missions over
England. On one day he had even flown seven sorties, excessive even by
Luftwaffe standards.
He was on Early Alarm, which meant being at dispersal by dawn,
mercifully later now that the days were rapidly shortening. Having shaved,
he dressed, putting his trousers and shirt straight over his pyjamas, then
with two others drove over to dispersal. A low mist hung over the greying
stubble fields that were their runways. Smells of coffee and food came from
the tented camp at one side of the airfield. Groundcrews stamped feet and
rubbed hands to keep warm, while pilots smoked cigarettes.
Helmut Kühle, Ulrich’s Staffelkapitän, suddenly drove up in his car,
having been to the morning briefing. ‘Protect the fighter-bombers,’ he told
the waiting pilots. ‘Target London. Take off 09.05 hours.’
Ulrich now hurried over to his plane, Yellow 2, with its five stripes on
the tail, one stripe for each of his victories. His mechanic, Peter, was
already waiting for him on the port wing. Clambering up, Ulrich put on his
harness with Peter’s help, then clambered into the tight cockpit. Reaching
for the starter lever, he felt the aircraft rock gently as Peter began to wind
up the eclipse starter before it could be engaged, so turning over the
Daimler-Benz 601 engine. Pulling the starter, Ulrich felt the engine roar
into life and then set the throttle lightly forwards so that he could complete
his start-up checks. The other eight remaining Me 109s were all running
now, then they began to emerge from their camouflaged dispersal pens.
This was all that could be mustered from the entire Gruppe.
As he finished his taxi, Ulrich glanced around him, then pushed the
throttle on to full power and felt the Messerschmitt surge forward. He lifted
the tail as the machine bumped over the rough field, Yellow 2 bounced a