Sgt Walter Poole leant on the fender of his fire engine watching the black silhouettes of the Lancasters starting up one by one. Tykhe, Saskatoon, No Mice, D-Daisy; each settling into the steady beat of warming engines.
"Shit!" Aghast the fireman watched as the port outer on D-Daisy suddenly puffedsmoke back over the wing. A resounding bang echoed across the airfield, audible even over the closest bombers startup and flame began to leak from the cowling.
The fire tender was already moving as the onboard extinguishers fired, damping the flames for a while but it was only smart work by the well drilled firemen that saved the airframe.
Carpenter, the Flight Engineer, climbed back out onto the dispersal point and voiced his rage at the unheeding aircraft. "Bloody useless bastard! You utter …" Words failed him. One by one the rest of the crew, came back from the "safe dstance" to which they had retreated and surveyed the damage.
"Night off then Skipper?" Danvers, the Bomb Aimer offered.
"Bugger that!" Came the grim retort. "Where's the spare Kite?"
Debrief: P/O Ralph Linton-Smith.
It was a bit of a let down after the alarms of the startup. No bother until the Dutch coast - where poor old N-Nancy caught it. A twin engined job had a look but was driven off by defensive fire and evasive action.
Then nothing until the target. - We toggled the eggs over the markers - and ran smack into another 110. Shot up the control cables in the bomb bay and tail and chewed up the port rudder before getting clipped by the rear gunner and thinking better of his sins.
With the cables damaged we were a bit of a sitter for the next night fighter to catch us near the Danish border but somehow he missed his first pass and coming back got pegged by both nose and mid upper turrets - half each.
Then bumbled home and plonked it on the runway.
The Crew chief is sore I mucked up his knitting and he'll be fiddling with wires for a while so it'll be back to Frankenstein's Monster next time out with a new bloody engine I hope.