A NIGHT TO REMEMBER -- Part 15
A pinpoint at last ... but it's an island fortress bristling with Flak artillery
Elevator and wing shredded by gunfire, one engine feathered, hydraulics unserviceable, C for Charlie made a flapless belly-landing at Ludford and carried away some of the FIDO fog dispersal piping along the side of the runway. Note the seven-foot whip aerials for the three ABC jamming transmitters.
“PILOT to navigator, if we can get a fix on the coast we had better set a course for Woodbridge, we might need their two mile runway”. “OK skipper we should be getting near the coast in about ten minutes.” ”Pilot to bombaimer keep your eyes on the ground for some kind of fix.” “OK skip”. “Engineer to pilot, there’s some flak way over to starboard.” “Roger, might be the main stream”.
Minutes drag by with all eyes searching the darkness for some point of recognition. How long can our luck hold out? Where the hell is that coastline? It must be coming up soon! Can we slip out over the sea without being attacked by a fighter or run into defended area? “Pilot to engineer, what’s the fuel state?” “OK skipper, should get us to Woodbridge”. Where’s that coast line? I’m getting anxious now, check the heading for the hundredth time -- yes OK on 297 compass. Perhaps we’ve got a stronger headwind at this level.
A crackle on the intercom, somebody switches on their mike. “Bombaimer to pilot, I can see some water down to starboard” “Good show bombaimer can you identify anything?” “No skipper, it’s wide….. not just a river…… hold on there’s another bit of coast coming up…. it’s an island…..it’s big……Christ it’s Walcheron! We’re going to go right over it”. At least we know where we are. [
Editor’s note: Walcheron island was key to the Scheldt estuary and the port of Antwerp. As such it was heavily fortified and manned by 12,000 German troops and artillery.]
Suddenly a hundred searchlights pierce the night sky, forming what looks like an impenetrable fence of light. Now they start to move and sway about and three or four move in our direction. One sweeps across towards us and a heave on the controls into a diving turn to starboard and it sweeps past our port wing, hard over to port as another comes in from that direction…. missed us, a steep climbing turn to the right and, damn!
One catches us, like a moth in a flame, the whole cockpit is lit up with a brilliant blue-white light. Immediately five or six others join in and we are coned, a sitting target for all the guns on the island but no guns fire! Not one! That could only mean that there are fighters in the vicinity and the searchlights are holding us as a sitting target for them. I’ve got to get out of these lights.
Another heave on the controls into a vicious diving steep turn to port down, down, then over to the right with the airspeed screaming and the altimeter going through 8000 feet then hard over to the left again and a pull back on the control column into a climbing turn to the right and suddenly it’s dark again and we’re out of their clutches. Thank God that starboard wing, which must have been weakened by the fire, held on. The lights continue sweeping and searching as we weave our way through them anticipating their next move, diving and turning to avoid being caught again.