We got all the way to Germany before running into any trouble. Suddenly Alcyone shuddered under the impact of cannon hits. The loss of our starboard aileron was evident as I tried to take us out of the line of fire, and Chalmers, at the W/T, switched to back-up oxygen, but considering the pounding we'd taken, I was amazed that we hadn't suffered worse. It was an Me-110 stalking us, but we managed to stay out of his sights until he gave up.
It turns out we had suffered a bit worse. As we continued toward Frankfurt, Danforth reported getting cold in the tail (well, colder than usual). His heat had been knocked out, so I took us down low to keep him warm. And it was warm over Frankfurt! Not only were the fires blazing, but we were coned by searchlights and attracted an unbelievable amount of flak. It was all the light stuff, though, and none of it did us any damage. A single-engined fighter made a couple of passes — he punched a few holes in us, and Eagan, in the mid-upper turret, punched a few holes in him. Dahlgren kept us lined up on the TI's, despite the searchlights, which kept tracking us right through the run, and the flak, which finally got our range after bombs gone!
but did negligible damage.
Just after heading back, we were jumped by another Me-110. Caldwell, in the seat next to me, took a nasty wound to the head. As I threw Alcyone around to shake him off, Danforth spotted him ahead of us and blasted him out of the sky. Chalmers patched up Caldwell the best he could.
We were over Holland before we ran into trouble again. This Me-110 made his presence known by knocking out the number four engine, and then kept on to take out our tailwheel and radio before we escaped him. We were caught by coastal searchlights, but the flak fired at us was ineffectual.
I kept our tail up as long as possible on landing, so the damage from landing without a tailwheel was minimal. Calwell is going to live, but we'll be be meeting a new flight engineer tomorrow. That Me-110 that Danforth shot down was his fifth. I can only hope he fares better than Daily, who never hit another thing after becoming an ace, and was sent home seriously wounded two trips later. The ground crew counted no less than four sets of holes in the bomb bay where shells passed through the space the bombs had been in. If we'd taken any one of those before Frankfurt instead of after, it would have been the end of all of us. I can't help thinking that we've beaten the odds for so long, our number's about due to come up. I'm really looking forward to the next bright period — I think we all could use the rest.
Pilot Officer Kenneth Cahill
Pilot, Alcyone
November 28, 1943
104 Peckham Damage Points