We were picked up by a twin-engined night-fighter over the North Sea. The damage wasn't serious, other than the intercom being knocked out. Goldberg nailed him when he tried to get in behind us a second time. With Goldberg's victory, the intercom seemed like a poor excuse to turn back, so we went forward.
Unfortunately, we were passed from one twin-engined night-fighter to the next all the way to Berlin. Kaiser got a workout in the mid-upper turret, and he managed to damage one of them. In return, Glazer was wounded in the seat next to me, and Kaiser's oxygen was cut off. I took us down to 10,000 feet over Germany. We'd come this far, and I didn't want to turn back yet. Then Flagg, our navigator, was killed, and Hawthorne, our bomb aimer, was wounded and his turret wrecked.
That got us to Berlin, where the searchlights caught us through a hole in the clouds, and we attracted small-calibre flak like you wouldn't believe. Hawthorne was wounded again, and the port flap and ailerons destroyed. A single-engined fighter made a couple head-on passes, causing a substantial fire in the tail, which Goldberg struggled to put out. Between the flak, the wounds, and the clouds, Hawthorne wasn't too particular about which part of Berlin he blew the hell out of.
The night-fighters weren't quite as persistent on the way home, but I still think we attracted more than our share. The #3 engine was knocked out over Germany, but I was at least able to feather it. The last attack we suffered was over the North Sea. This one shot up both wings, taking out the starboard aileron and the rafts.
Landing went relatively well, considering I had no ailerons, one flap, and only one rudder responding to the controls. Looking Phaesyla over on the ground, I'm amazed that more of us didn't end up like Flagg.
Flight-Lieutenant Gregory Gifford
Pilot, Phaesyla
January 30, 1944
321 Peckham Damage Points!