"I though only the Yanks were daft enough to fly in daylight," Sgt Francis Blair Jr. complained as he readied to board Belligerent Bulldog.
"With the pea soup that's predicted over Cologne, it'll hardly be daylight," Sgt James Edgecombe tried to reassure Francis, and himself.
"Let's hope so," Francis replied. "Personally, I prefer my Huns to sneak up on me one at a time rather than knocking at the front door with all their friends."
Overhearing the conversation between my tail and upper turret gunner, I wondered myself about the wisdom of Bomber Harris' decision. The clear skies over Lincoln did little to allay my concerns. Still, we had our orders. Fortunately, there were going to be lots of Spits in the air with us. As it turned out, we needed them.
While things were quiet most of the flight over, it was still a tense time trying to maintain some semblance of a formation without getting too close. The sky over Cologne was cloudy as promised, yet it didn't keep Jerry from finding us, two waves of enemy fighters attacking on target ingress. The first was a trio of Fw 190s. Two were driven off by the escorting Spitfires. James (Sgt Edgecombe) winged the third enough to throw off his aim and Jerry went in search of easier prey. Then a Bf 109 dove past the Spits, raking Belligerent Bulldog from stem to stern. I felt the controls jerk for a moment, the cables obviously being hit, and Sgt Blair cussed as his suit heat was ruined by some passing 7.7mm. Jerry came around for a second pass, accomplishing little before turning for home, apparently out of ammo. The Ack-Ack was light and ineffective. Even so, Arthur (W/O Thomas) missed the target.
The Ack-Ack again missed on target egress and we encountered two more waves of enemy fighters. The first, a BF 109 and an ace judging by his markings, was chased off by an escorting Spitfire. He was followed by four Fw 190s, one a relative newcomer. The Spits chased off one and another missed before moving on. The green pilot came at us head on, peppering the cockpit and taking out the intercom and the top of Bert's (F/O Mowbrey) head. We were raked once again by his mate, who destroyed the radio and the tail guns before flying off. The youngster came around for another go and W/O Thomas obligingly shot him down. With the tail guns useless, I had Sgt Blair come up and take F/O Mowbrey's seat to avoid poor Francis' freezing to death.
We had no more encounters on the flight back and the now welcome clear skies over Lincoln facilitated a smooth landing; ruined only by the knowledge that we'd be seeking a replacement for our dead Navigator. The mechanics will have Belligerent Bulldog patched up and ready to fly by tomorrow (95 Peckham Points).
F/O James Tewsbury, Commanding
Belligerent Bulldog