They Gave Me a Hurricane by Charles Palliser

Author:Charles Palliser [Palliser, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, Military, Aviation, World War II, Europe, Great Britain, General
ISBN: 9780993212956
Google: cxnhDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Fighting High Publishing
Published: 2012-08-19T16:03:13+00:00

17. ‘What Guns!’

On 10 January there was much activity at the airfield. Our twelve Hurricanes were lined up on the airfield in front of the ops huts and the briefing of the twelve pilots, including Wing Commander Victor Beamish, commenced mid-morning. The squadron would be airborne at noon, and would be airborne in sections of three aircraft – Red, Blue, Yellow and Green, four Vics led by Squadron Leader Barton. No. 242 Squadron, led by Squadron Leader Bader, would take off from its base, Martlesham, and Squadron Leader Stanford Tuck, with No. 257 Squadron, would scramble from Stapleford Tawney. Six Blenheims, twin-engine bombers, would leave their base. All squadrons would form the total formation in a huge Vic formation, with the Blenheim bombers behind and in the centre of the Vic. Most of the territory between North Weald and Dover would be used for the total formation to form and head for France. Bader would lead, Barton would be No. 2 position, and Tuck would be in No. 3 position, with the bombers behind and close. This formation would cross the Channel aiming for Calais at a tricky height of 500 feet to fly under the German radar. Two squadrons of Hurricanes from other bases would fly way above us to maintain ‘top cover’ and Spitfires would be scrambled to make very high cover when the action commenced. Orders were that the three escort squadrons would split when we reached the coast, and that the bombers would remain at minimum height and fly straight to their target, which was a forest, named Forêt-de-Guines, where German tanks were stationed.

The action commenced. Bader led us straight down to Calais Marc Airfield. For some reason he flew us across the airfield at 1,000 feet, which frightened the hell out of us when the German defence commenced firing with their Bofors guns, which were lethal in their hands. No. 249 dived to zero feet and fired at the parked fighters on the airfield, some of which were already taxiing to take off. I made my attack across the centre of Calais Marc, hitting two of the Messerschmitts that were nearly airborne. Then I made a screaming turn to starboard to come down the western edge of the airfield to strafe the guns, which I was sure had already hit some of the leading Hurricanes. Stanford Tuck had led No. 257 Squadron to minimum height, and was knocking hell out of the parked aircraft on the east side of the airfield. Barton yelled, ‘Watch the Blenheims’, and I joined the other No. 249 pilots towards the Forêt-de-Guines, which was only about 5 miles away. The top cover Hurricanes were attacking 109s as they were airborne. Hell’s Angels was a baby to the actions now – thirty-six fighters screaming around the area at zero feet. For once I thanked God for having 109s with yellow painted noses, otherwise we would have been shooting at our own aircraft. We saw the six Blenheims leaving the forest and we made for the Channel.

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