Bomber by Deighton Len

Author:Deighton, Len
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Sterling
Published: 2011-08-01T16:00:00+00:00

Lambert knew the way from Warley to the coastal assembly points as he did the one from his billet to the Mess. Usually he flew straight to the assembly point using a course based upon the Met man’s estimate of the wind. Cohen then faked in the Gee fixes from that point back to Warley. From there onwards Cohen did real Gee fixes. Tonight Lambert knew the wind was wrong from the moment he was airborne and he steered well to the south, allowing the wind to push him on to the track he required. ‘Southwold,’ announced Digby. He was lying in the nose of the plane looking down through the transparent bowl.

‘OK,’ said Cohen, who knew he was talking to him. This was the way they always did it.

Cohen took a fix from the Gee radar and marked the time at Southwold on his plotting map. ‘There’s quite a wind, Skipper,’ he said.

‘We’ll see,’ said Lambert. ‘When we’ve got a bit of height we’ll have a better idea. The high winds may be different.’

‘Permission to test guns?’ asked Binty.

‘Yes, both of you,’ said Lambert, knowing that Flash would ask immediately after. Digby tested his nose guns too. The sound of the guns rattled along the metal fuselage and from Digby’s turret at the front there was a smell of cordite and scorching oil. Tracer sprayed in a gentle curve and splashed down into the sea.

Today’s pressurized, high-speed, high-altitude, jet-propelled traveller might find it hard to imagine the very different experience that flying was to these men. The whole aeroplane rattled and vibrated with the power of the piston engines. The instruments shuddered and the figures on them blurred. Oxygen masks were mandatory and they needed microphones and earphones to even converse. At these altitudes their power-weight ratios made these planes very vulnerable to the condition of the air through which they flew. Although now, in the cool of night, the aircraft was steadier than it had been in the heated turbulence of afternoon, the air was still full of surprises. They hit hard walls of it and dropped sickeningly into deep pockets. They bucketed, rolled, and yawed constantly. Their degree of stability depended as much upon the pilot’s strength as upon his skill, for the controls were not power-assisted and it required all of a man’s energy to heave the control surfaces into the airstream. And all the time there was the vibration that hammered the temples, shook the teeth and played a tattoo upon the spine, so that even after an uneventful flight the crew were whipped into a condition of advanced fatigue.

Digby sat down next to Cohen. He had his own gadget, the H2S radar set, to operate. It looked down at the world below and gave an X-ray picture which distinguished between woodland, water, and houses. Often the set went wrong and even at its best the picture bore only a messy resemblance to a map. Cohen had warmed the set and they both watched the dull green screen.

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