Mosquito: Menacing the Reich: Combat Action in the Twin-engine Wooden Wonder of World War II by Martin Bowman Page A
Authors: Martin Bowman
Tags: Bisac Code 1: HIS027140
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seemed pretty straightforward so far. I caught Percy’s eye and grinned. He was a bit cheesed off because his wife had come down for the New Year’s Eve party and we were only put on this trip at the last minute. I could see us belting back tonight! Well, that was the end of the briefing. It was now about 14.45 and we all trooped out to the crew room where old Chiefy Tite had organised tea and sandwiches for us. Having munched these we went to the locker room and collected Mae Wests and navigation bag, signed for the escape kit pack and straggled out to the crew buses waiting to take us out to our aircraft. Our dispersals were at the east end of the airfield, south of the main runway. The bus duly deposited us at K-King. First thing to do was to stow the Window bundles in the nose while the skipper went to sign the F700; then cram the nav bag in on top. After this I had to check that the DR compass master unit was serviceable, that the oxygen cocks were turned on and the camera magazine was fitted; all this is in the rear hatch. Next I had to see that the navigation lights were working and that the safety pins had been taken out of the ‘Cookie’; an awkward job. You had to use a torch and peer through a small circular hole at the lug. All done; time for a last smoke.
Percy was round the back having his operational pee, which he never missed. The usual curious hush had settled on the aerodrome just before the kites started up. There just wasn’t a sound. A train whistled in the distance and then the silence descended again. I looked at my watch: 20 minutes to take off. Time to get in. I took a last drag at my cigarette. Ron was getting himself strapped in. It took him some time to do this. And I put on my parachute harness after slipping a piece of gum into my mouth and got in myself. “Have a good trip, Sir” said the rigger, as he stowed the ladder and shut the door. Good lads, our ground crews. Bill Brodie the duty CO came round to each kite in turn to see if everything was OK. We gave him a thumbs-up and he went to the next kite. We were eighth off, so it was about time we started-up. The first kite had already started-up so Ron ran up the engines and I checked the Gee and Loran to see if they were working. All were OK and I switched them off until we were airborne. The first kite taxied out in the dusk of this December afternoon. After a while we waddled forward, checked the brakes and moved slowly out on to the perimeter track and on in the queue to the take off point. A last check: petrol on outers, pitot head heater on, nav lights and oxygen on, radiator shutters open. We got a flashing green Aldis from the ACP’s caravan and taxied on to the runway. We could see the tail light of the kite in front climbing away. Ron taxied forward a little to straighten the tail wheel and then said, “OK, boy, here we go.” And we were off.
The next few moments were pretty tense. We had the maximum load of fuel and bomb aboard. You hoped she wouldn’t swing or burst a tyre because you had a rather unpleasant companion about 6 inches underneath where we were sitting. Then the tail came up and we watched the airspeed creep up to 120 knots; full boost and 3,000 revs. The red light at the end of the runway came rushing up and the kite heaved herself off the deck. (You could almost hear her grunt). Then the skipper gave the word to raise the undercarriage. We listened anxiously to the engines. A misfire now would be decidedly unpleasant, but they didn’t miss (we had a damn good groundcrew) and we climbed away to the delay pattern. We passed over Little Staughton, 10 miles from base at 1,500ft before turning back towards base, still climbing, to set course with the others.
We crossed the coast at Cromer and headed for Heligoland. At 17.12 we began climbing to 20,000ft. We were gaining a lot of time. The kite wouldn’t go less than 190 knots at 10,000ft. That was 15 knots too fast and we now had 9 minutes in hand and had to
Percy was round the back having his operational pee, which he never missed. The usual curious hush had settled on the aerodrome just before the kites started up. There just wasn’t a sound. A train whistled in the distance and then the silence descended again. I looked at my watch: 20 minutes to take off. Time to get in. I took a last drag at my cigarette. Ron was getting himself strapped in. It took him some time to do this. And I put on my parachute harness after slipping a piece of gum into my mouth and got in myself. “Have a good trip, Sir” said the rigger, as he stowed the ladder and shut the door. Good lads, our ground crews. Bill Brodie the duty CO came round to each kite in turn to see if everything was OK. We gave him a thumbs-up and he went to the next kite. We were eighth off, so it was about time we started-up. The first kite had already started-up so Ron ran up the engines and I checked the Gee and Loran to see if they were working. All were OK and I switched them off until we were airborne. The first kite taxied out in the dusk of this December afternoon. After a while we waddled forward, checked the brakes and moved slowly out on to the perimeter track and on in the queue to the take off point. A last check: petrol on outers, pitot head heater on, nav lights and oxygen on, radiator shutters open. We got a flashing green Aldis from the ACP’s caravan and taxied on to the runway. We could see the tail light of the kite in front climbing away. Ron taxied forward a little to straighten the tail wheel and then said, “OK, boy, here we go.” And we were off.
The next few moments were pretty tense. We had the maximum load of fuel and bomb aboard. You hoped she wouldn’t swing or burst a tyre because you had a rather unpleasant companion about 6 inches underneath where we were sitting. Then the tail came up and we watched the airspeed creep up to 120 knots; full boost and 3,000 revs. The red light at the end of the runway came rushing up and the kite heaved herself off the deck. (You could almost hear her grunt). Then the skipper gave the word to raise the undercarriage. We listened anxiously to the engines. A misfire now would be decidedly unpleasant, but they didn’t miss (we had a damn good groundcrew) and we climbed away to the delay pattern. We passed over Little Staughton, 10 miles from base at 1,500ft before turning back towards base, still climbing, to set course with the others.
We crossed the coast at Cromer and headed for Heligoland. At 17.12 we began climbing to 20,000ft. We were gaining a lot of time. The kite wouldn’t go less than 190 knots at 10,000ft. That was 15 knots too fast and we now had 9 minutes in hand and had to
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