Noční stíhání

I was at Drem near Edinburgh during the early part of the Battle. We were really quite busy up north in June and July. The Germans were doing a lot of raiding in Scotland, against Glasgow and on the east coast. I shot my first aircraft down at night there. He had dropped his bombs and was on his way out when I caught him. I had been up there on patrol and was told by radio that there was some enemy activity around. I was watching the searchlight beams when I suddenly saw two of them latch on to an aircraft, so I went to look and saw that it was a Heinkel. I went for it too quickly to begin with and nearly ran into it the first time. But I sorted myself out. The searchlights were marvellous. They stayed with this thing all the time, so I was able to come around again and went in much more carefully, and let fly. The next thing I knew, I couldn't see anything. I had punctured his oil tanks and my windscreen and everything were all covered with oil. I pulled over to the side to see what was happening. I saw that one of his engines was on fire so I followed him along, realizing that we were getting lower and lower. The searchlights still hung onto him. He finally went into the sea. I later discovered that my final burst had taken place right over our airfield. All the chaps on the ground had been watching.

S/Ldr Sandy Johnstone, 602. sqn

The period after the evacuation of Dunkirk was the most dangerous period in my life. They sent us down to South Wales for the defence of the industrial area there. We had a bit of activity. We saw and shot down the odd daylight raider. Then they moved my flight to a field behind a pub called "The Swan" at Bibury, which is in the middle of the Cotswolds - a beautiful part of the world.
They gave us the most absurd, tiny farmer's field, a couple of bell tents and no facilites at all and we were told we were responsible for the night defence of Wales. We flew from this tiny strip - the sort of thing you'd never dream of doing in peacetime, ever - with no aids at all to get back, except four half blacked-out glim lamps, and one chance light which was switched on for a second or two. We took off and groped our way around the night sky. We were landing all over England because we couldn't find our way back. We were lucky no one was killed.
In those days, you believed Operations and tended to do what you were told. We tried to convince Operations what we were doing was an absolute waste of time and there was no way we would be able to find a German bomber on a pitch dark night without aids. You couldn't see them, but you could hear those buggers. It was quite alarming. You'd hear the German R/T getting louder and louder and louder and you'd think, "Christ, I'm going to be in a collision".
We finally convinced Operations that this was daft and dangerous and getting us nowhere. Then one chap, Alan Wright, was airborne and happened to look up and there in front of him were four glowing exhaust pipes. He lifted his nose and pressed his tit and shot down a German bomber. He came back all triumphant and he was almost lynched by the rest of us. We were furious. We'd been working hard to get released from this absurd job. He'd destroyed it with this one total fluke.

F/Lt B. Kingcome, 92. sqn