by Griff Hosker
I glanced to the right and saw the mechanics still working on the JU 52. One was leaning out of the cockpit. I saw him shout something and they tried to fire the port engine. He shook his head when it did not.
There was a sudden increase in engine noises and a wave of heat as the squadron all took off. It took a few minutes and then the noise receded as they headed west. I waited until the mechanics began to meander towards the mess tent. As I turned to tell the others it was time I heard a bang and then the splutter of an engine trying to fire.
"Up now!"
I forced myself under the fence and pulled my Bergen and gun behind me. As the others followed I stared at the JU 52. The port engine fired. I saw the mechanic in the cockpit bang the side with glee. The rest of the section rolled from under the fence. We were still hidden by the undergrowth but the minute we stood we would be seen. I pointed to the aeroplane. It was just fifty yards from us. Then the other two engines were started and I saw the four mechanics patting each other on the back. This was too good a chance to miss. I stood and, holding my machine gun and Bergen in my left hand drew my Colt. The others followed me as I ran towards the aeroplane. It was the fifth mechanic, the one in the cockpit, who spotted us. He pointed and shouted something. By then I was twenty yards from them. I pointed my Colt at them and shouted, in German, "Down on the ground or we will shoot you!"
They were unarmed and when our machine guns were levelled at them they obeyed. I pointed the gun to the mechanic in the cockpit. "You stay there!" Without turning I shouted, "Gordy, cover the one in the cockpit. If he moves his head then kill him!"
So far our little vignette was being played out just for us. I knew that eventually someone in the tower would spot our uniforms. We had to move and quickly. I kicked one of the chocks away from the port wheel. "Bill, get rid of the other chock."
Daddy shouted, "Ken keep them covered and the rest of you get on board."
I jumped into the hatch and dropped my bag and machine gun. I went to the cockpit. I said, to the mechanic. "Sit there and put your hands behind your head!" I pointed to the well of the cargo bay.
"You will not get away with this."
I smiled, "Then you will die with us, Fritz! Now move!" He did as I said. I went to the window as Polly jammed his machine gun next to the mechanic's head. "Gordy, get on board." Just then a klaxon sounded. We had been spotted.
Daddy shouted, "Right lads on board."
"Norm, get up here and sit next to me! I'll need your help to fly." He sat down and looked in terror at the gauges and levers. I smiled and pointed to the levers next to his right hand. "All you need to do is to push them forward at the same time as me." He nodded and put his hands on them.
I saw, a Kübelwagen racing down the airfield. "Sarge they are coming for us. Better start making a noise. Here we go!"
Dad had always said that flying was like riding a bike or driving a car; you never forgot. I hoped he was right. This one had more controls than the ones I had learned in but essentially they were the same. My German came in handy. I read the German instruction and I pushed the levers forward. We began to move down the bumpy grass. I heard the sound of German machine guns and then the chatter of Tommy guns. I ignored that.
"Norm put your hands on that stick in front of you. When I give the word pull back gently on it."
"You sure Corp?"
"You are doing fine." I prayed I would have the right revs when it came time to lift the nose or this could be a very short and explosive flight.
Suddenly the mechanic behind me made a lurch towards me. I half turned as he leapt towards me. His fist caught the side of my head. I elbowed him and then Polly smashed the stock of his machine gun into the side of his head. "Sorry Corp!"
I felt the blood dripping from my nose. "Not to worry. Hang on lads!" We were bouncing down the runway and it felt like I was clinging on to a runaway horse. "Ready Norm?"
"I suppose so."
I saw that the revs were getting almost into the red zone. "Now!" We both pulled back on the yoke. The nose didn't seem to move at first. The engines were all screaming and the whole aeroplane was shaking. The other wire fence was a hundred yards away. I was not certain that we would clear it. I saw that I still had more power available and I pushed the levers forward. The nose began to rise and we stopped bumping. We were airborne. I felt something bang into the fuselage. We had been hit by bullets. "Okay Norm, you can let go now." As we cleared the fence I began to bank to the right. I decided not to risk lifting the undercarriage I might not be able to get it down again. I brought down the power. One of the engines had been recently repaired. It would not do to risk damaging it. Behind us I heard the pop of anti-aircraft fire. I put the nose down. We would fly as low over the sea as we could. If we were attacked then I would put her down; the sea was safer than crashing into the cliffs or being shot down.
Daddy came behind me and slapped me on the back as the section all cheered. "Well done, Tom!"
"We aren't safe yet. We are flying a German aeroplane. Our own lads will try to shoot us down."
"What's your plan?"
"The nearest field, as far as I can remember, is Eastchurch in Kent. We should reach it in fifteen minutes but I would use the side windows to watch for German fighters. They may not take kindly to us stealing one of their aeroplanes."
"Right." He turned, "Right lads get to the side windows with your machine guns and keep a sharp eye out for Jerries."
I focussed on the distant coastline. "Norm, find the maps. Find Eastchurch. Use Calais and Marck as our starting point. I have been flying north west; three hundred and five degrees."
Although our maps were of France they also had part of the Kent coast. "Got it." He peered forward. "You need to go left a bit!"
I laughed, "I think you will find that they say port. How many degrees?"
"Just five degrees and you should be able to see it."
"Keep your eyes open for the field. There will be buildings and a windsock."
"Righto."
I saw the coast drawing nearer and nearer. I estimated that we were but ten minutes from Blighty when Ken shouted, "German fighters, three of them!"
Sergeant Grant said, "Give them short bursts. Let's discourage them."
"I can see the field, Corp. It is to port."
I saw it too and I dipped the nose. I heard bullets strike the fuselage and heard a shout as someone was hit. I could do nothing about it. I began to reduce speed and corrected my approach. The field was intended for Spitfires and not a bus as big as a JU 52. More bullets struck us but I could hear the Thompsons chattering in reply. The small aeroplane I had learned in and flown was much closer to the ground than this lumbering beast. I had to work out how high above the ground we were. I reduced speed even more. I was acutely aware that if we stalled then we might flip and kill us all. It seemed hard to control and I was fearful of over-correcting.
The men on the ground began to fire; thankfully it was not at us but the pursuing fighters. The JU 52 hit the ground and bumped back up in the air. Dad would have tutted at that point. I put the nose down again as I reduced the airspeed even more. We hit the ground hard but stayed on the ground. We were travelling too quickly and I reduced the engines as far as I could. I saw some tents looming up and I kicked hard on the rudder. I had not needed to do much when I had landed the single engine trainer. This JU 52 was an altogether different animal. We spun around and I worried that we might catch the ground as I felt a wheel lift and the starboard wing lurch towards the ground. Then the wheel bit and we stopped. I turned off the engines and sat. Behind me I heard cheers. Then I heard a voice from outside, "Alright Fritz! Your war is over." I glanced out of the window and saw ten guns pointing at the hatch. I began to laugh.
Chapter 4
Our injury was Bill Becket who was hit by pieces of metal from the corrugated fuselage of the German aeroplane. He was lucky it had been a direct hit from the bullets. The fragments of metal were bad enough. He would live.
When the Royal Air Force police realised we were British then we were lauded as heroes. The adjutant of 266 Squadron could not believe that a Commando knew how to fly. When he discovered my name he laughed, "I knew your father. I served with him in Russia just after the Great War. Now it makes sense! Well done. You are a credit to your old man. We have rung intelligence and they are sending someone down for your prisoner. You chaps can use the Sergeants' Mess until your transport arrives."
Daddy said, "They know then?"
"One of the MPs saw your shoulder flash. Someone called Major Foster said he would come personally!"
Even though we were safe in England we were still Commandos. Daddy made sure that Bill was being looked after in the sick bay and we all kept our equipment with us. The Sergeants' Mess was filled with a barrage of questions. We, of course, had to be discreet with our answers. All that they got out of us was that we had been in France and stolen the aeroplane in order to return to England. That proved enough to satisfy them. What fascinated them more than anything was the range of weapons we carried. The Thompson machine gun and the Colt were the only such weapons they had seen.
We were rescued from further interrogation by a lorry driven by Sergeant Major Dean and with Major Foster in tow. The Intelligence Officer from London also arrived and we were taken to the pilot's briefing room so that Captain James from Intelligence and Major Foster could both debrief us at the same time.
The information we had about the camp was particularly important and the captain was disappointed we had not identified the Corps. Major Foster became both protective and annoyed, "Good God man! How in the hell would they manage that? They did damn well to stay behind enemy lines for almost three days. The fact that they know it is a Corps and not an army is important, right?"
The Captain was young and, I suspect, had not seen active service, "Quite right Major. Damned fine show chaps."
"I think, sir, that if you question the mechanic he might well know the identity of the Corps. The camp and the airfield were only a couple of miles apart."
The Captain nodded gratefully. Major Foster sniffed. "And that, Captain, is how a Commando thinks! He uses his head."
Captain James said, "And dashed important too that you identified the two fields. I dare say we might send over bombers to raid them."
"Sir," I ventured, "They are both very close to both Calais and Gravelines. There were plenty of civilians and buildings close by."
"Good point Corporal." He turned to Major Foster, "You are right. Your chaps are thinkers. Well done. That's all from me but if I have any more questions I'll give you a bell eh Major?"
Major Foster nodded, "Right chaps. Let's get you back to base. Everyone there thought we had lost you." He glanced at the Captain, "That is all isn't it Captain?"
"Oh yes, Major. And we have an aeroplane as well as a prisoner!"
Just then we heard the sound of the returning Spitfires. Major Foster laughed, "I wonder what they make of Jerry on their field eh?"
"Sir, can we go and see if Beckett is fit to travel?" Daddy would not want to leave one of our own behind."
The doctor had finished with Becket and was dealing with the German who had received a blow on the head from Poulson. "Sir, is Private Becket ready to travel back to the base?"
The doctor looked up and shook his head, "I would prefer to keep him under observation for a day or so Sergeant."
I saw Bill's face, "It's alright sir. I feel fit as a fiddle. You have done a good job here." He began to get off the bed. "Besides you will need these beds for your lads eh sir?"
I picked up his Bergen and Daddy his Thompson. The doctor shook his head, "It is right what they say, you Commandos are as mad as a pocket full of frogs! Be off with you." He wagged a finger at Daddy, "You make sure your doctor gets these notes." He handed him a manila envelope.
"Yes, sir. We will."
"Bye Fritz."
The German scowled. I said, in German, "You will get better attention here than we would if the SS had captured us. Think on that my friend." He looked up with an angry scowl upon his face. They had a different philosophy than we did.
Once in the back of the lorry and trundling down the road the lads began singing. They were just music hall songs but the fact that we had survived when we had expected to die was the difference. They were just pleased to be alive. Less than a few hours ago we had all faced death and, against the odds, we had survived. When we stopped at a checkpoint Major Foster clambered in the back with us.
"If you chaps have got the songs out of your system I will have a little chat with you. I didn't want to wash our dirty linen in front of that staff officer. What happened to Smith and Griffiths?" He held up his hands, "I think you did a first rate job and there should be medals for this but we need to know what went wrong and then we can learn lessons."
Daddy lit his pipe. I smiled. That was his thinking time. "We reached Gravelines and we split up to recce the town's defences. It was our orders, sir."
"I know Grant. Carry on."
"We gave each pair an hour. After fifty minutes they weren't back and we heard the alarm go off. There was the sound of firing. We scarpered. They didn't show."
Major Foster nodded. "Textbook stuff, Grant. Now the Navy is not happy because it lost an ML and crew." Daddy looked at me. "Come on lads. Out with it."
I spoke, "It's just that it doesn't do to speak ill of the dead sir and Lieutenant Williams, well sir, he was reckless. His crew told us he always went too fast. We were watching from the cliff and we heard him before we saw him. He came screaming in; he gave the engines full revs and we all know that you go in as quietly as you can. When the flare went off he had no chance."
"They were waiting then?"
Daddy nodded, "Oh they knew we were going to be there but they didn’t know the time."
"So our lads talked?"
I shook my head, "Sir, we left prints in the sand. The Germans heard the boat when we landed and came to investigate. Even if they hadn't captured our lads they would have known something was up."
He smiled, "I think I can see it now. How could we have done it differently then?"
"We need the tide times. It is better to go in when the tide is about to turn. It covers up our prints and we need a backup plan to get out. I was lucky to find that JU 52 and to fly it out It is hard to see how we could have got out otherwise."
Major Foster nodded, "We lost two sections on the raid and another ML. They might have been like you but had no means of getting out. Anyway the position of the airfield and the camp is like gold dust. I dare say it will be bombed now."
"When I was flying out sir I saw the cliffs close to Calais were covered in 88s."
Norm nodded, "Aye sir and that camp was ringed with them too. I saw that from the co-pilot's seat."
"Nevertheless the RAF will want to have a go at them." We must have all looked deflated. I know that I my euphoria had deflated hearing that there were almost thirty men who had been lost on this mission. It was a waste. "Come on chaps, cheer up. You look like you had a disaster when you have had a great success. We will have a couple of weeks of training and then see what our lords and masters want of us eh?"
Daddy nodded, "You are right sir. We must be tired. We haven't had much sleep in the last three days."
"Of course! I am an idiot. You can all have the day off tomorrow to recover."
"Thank you sir!"
The chorus was drowned out by Sergeant Major Dean's voice from the front seat, "But the day after you report at six a.m. in full kit for a five mile run and I still have the first time you set. You have to beat it!"
I smiled at Daddy, Reg Dean never compromised. If you were a Commando there were certain standards and he would make sure that everyone kept to them.
After we had dumped our bags we managed a quick swill in the sink. Hot water was a luxury and there was a rota for the bath. We would have to wait for the immersion to heat our share. We did, however, manage to put on clean clothes.
That made a difference. Daddy and I headed down to the Red Lion for a pint. We had an unwritten agreement about which pubs we would use. The NCOs used the Red Lion, the Privates the Black Swan or as it was known, The Mucky Duck and the officers used The Hope and Anchor. It made discipline easier and the brewery was the same for all of the pubs.
Our late arrival and our ablutions meant that we were the last two to make the pub. Sergeant Major Dean was there, having beaten us by minutes. He had two pints on the bar when we arrived. "Here y'are lads. I reckon you deserve this."
We took the pints and raised them in a toast. "To the lads who didn't make it back!"
Everyone raised their glass at Daddy's toast and we drank in silence. The silence was broken by Wally White. "So Biggles, you can fly an aeroplane. You kept that quiet!"
There was some laughter at the reference to the boys' fictional flying hero, Biggles. Daddy said, "I for one am bloody glad he can fly. We would have been in the bag otherwise, or dead."
There were nods all around. Wally asked, "What about the two lads?"
Reg Dean tapped his glass on the bar, "White! Not in public eh?"
"Sorry Sarn't Major, I forgot." There was a rule that we didn't talk about missions where civilians could hear.
Finishing the beer Sergeant Major Dean said, "Not too many eh lads? We have a run first thing." He actually smiled at Daddy and me, "I have given these two the day off!"
After he had gone Jack Johnson said, "Bloody Hell, you must have impressed him. We didn't get a day off when we got back."
Sergeant Peter Wilson said, "Well none of us had three days in France did we?"
