Free I Sank The Bismarck by John Moffat

byGerman fighters became very
common.
    'Air raid imminent' warnings were received on a red telephone
in the air duty office at the base. Almost immediately
the barrage balloons would be released and they would shoot
up into the air at an enormous speed, causing the tethering
wires to smoke with friction as they unwound rapidly on the
rotating cable drum. Of course, once the balloons were lazily
bobbing about in place the airfield was out of use; no planes
could take off and none was allowed to try to land. I was
often diverted to our alternative airfield, Worthy Down,
because an air-raid warning had Eastleigh on alert. Sometimes
these precautions did not work. During one of my stop-offs atWorthy Down I was with three other pilots in the air-watch
office, waiting for a call from Eastleigh telling us it was safe
to make our way back there. It was a lovely summer's day and
we were idly chatting, probably about our plans for the weekend
and the local girls we were interested in, when we heard
this aircraft. We recognized the engine noise almost simultaneously
– we had heard it too many times during raids – and
we all shouted, 'Jerry!' There had been no air-raid warning,
but we all rushed for the door, my three companions turning
left while I turned to the right, heading for a slit trench near
the aerodrome fence. I had run not more than a few yards
when a bomb dropped behind me and exploded with an
immense bang. I remember flying up in the air, then plummeting
back on to the ground face down, with stones and gravel
falling on top of me until I was almost covered. I could hardly
breathe, the blast had winded me so much, and I was stone
deaf, but I managed to crawl a few yards and fall into the slit
trench. It was obviously one of those lone raiders that used to
sneak over the Channel in broad daylight. It came back on
two other passes, machine-gunning anything that appeared in
the pilot's sights.
    When it finally flew off the all-clear sounded and I
staggered out of the slit trench and down to the officers' mess.
The building was just a heap of red bricks; rubble and dust
covered the ground and bits of wooden beam and window
frame were scattered around. There was a horrible smell of
explosives. I never saw my three companions again; they had
all been killed by the single bomb. Their bodies were never
found.
    I went to the sickbay and was checked out by the medical
orderly, but apart from a ringing in the ears there was
nothing physically wrong with me. I flew back to Eastleigh
with my uniform ripped and dirty. This incident had quite an
effect on me – I suppose I was suffering from some sort of
shock. I was very disturbed by the sudden deaths of my three
companions and my lucky near-miss. It brought me up with a
round turn, as they say in the navy. If sometimes during my
training it had been easy to forget that others were engaged in
a life-or-death struggle, this bomb was a harsh reminder. I
found it hard to get to sleep at night for some time after, and
was quite alarmed by sudden noises. I have sometimes read
that young men have no fear of death, but if this incident
happened too quickly to feel fear at the time, then I certainly
felt it afterwards as I searched the wreckage for any signs of
life.
    Next day I had to borrow some clothes and set off to
Geives, the naval tailor in Portsmouth, for a new uniform,
which I had to pay for out of my own funds. Luckily I was
properly dressed, because the next day we were called out to
a parade and, quite unannounced, we were inspected by His
Majesty the King. I wonder what the reaction would have
been if I had stood there in my dust-covered, blast-torn uniform?
    It was not long after this that I had my next meeting with
the enemy. I had been instructed to take aLieutenant Crane
to Kemble to pick up some spare parts. We were going to fly
up in a Skua, so we took off and flew north. I was in the
pilot's seat and he was in the rear in the observer's position. It
was a lovely summer's