Target for Tonight by Squadron Leader D.a Braithwaite Dfc*

Author:Squadron Leader D.a Braithwaite Dfc*
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781783460878
Publisher: Pen and Sword
Published: 2013-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

139 Squadron

I had some mechanical trouble with my MG on the journey south from Aberdeen, but at last limped it into a garage I used in London. The following morning my brother, who was by now a captain in the US Army Air Corps volunteered to fly me up to Wyton, by Huntingdon, my new aerodrome, in a small US intercommunications plane. After a bumpy ride in an aircraft I decided was constructed of papier mâché and string, we arrived at Wyton and I said a relieved ‘thank you’ to my brother and set off to find the 139 Squadron offices.

When I arrived there, I found the Adjutant’s office empty. The next door said ‘CO’, so I went in. There, sitting at the desk was a group captain wearing DSO and DFC ribbons. ‘Sir,’ I said, ‘what are you doing here?’ This is my new squadron and I think this is to be my office.’

‘Oh, you’re Braithwaite, are you?’ Said the group captain. ‘What has taken you so long to get here?’

‘How long do you think it takes to pack up from one station in the middle of Scotland and drive to Huntingdon?’ I replied somewhat angrily. ‘And I’m only here now with the compliments of the US Air Force, who flew me up from London. Anyway, sir, that doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here?’

‘You’d better sit down, Braithwaite,’ replied the Group Captain, indicating a chair in front of the desk. ‘You see there’s been a change of plan since you left Dyce and I am now the CO of this squadron.’

‘But, I don’t understand, sir,’ I said. ‘Air Commodore Bennett said this would be my command.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you, Braithwaite, I will explain. My name is Group Captain Slee and I’ve been commanding a station in Lincolnshire for the past six months. They promoted me to group captain after a daylight raid that you probably remember: ninety-seven Lancasters low-level down France to bomb the armament works at Le Creusot, near Vichy, then back by way of the Bay of Biscay.’ I did remember; I had done the Pampa in a Spitfire for them. ‘Running a bomber station has been rather a bore since then,’ Slee continued, ‘and when I heard about this special new type of operations, I rang Air Commodore Bennett, who is a friend and contemporary of mine, and asked him for it. It’s going to be very important, you know, and he agreed with me that it justified a more experienced and, if you don’t mind me saying so, an older man than you. You are only twenty-two, I believe.’ Seething, I acknowledged that I was only twenty-two. ‘So where do I actually come into this, sir?’ I asked. ‘I was a squadron commander until Air Commodore Bennett acquired my Mosquitoes out of Coastal; I came with them on the promise of being a squadron commander again; that was ruled out somewhere high up, and I had to return as the bad boy to an angry Coastal Command.

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