DU BIST MEIN!
‘Tail end Charlie.’ Or if you prefer, ‘rear gunner.’ Not matter what ‘nickname’ anyone referred to it as the general consensus within the crews was that, no matter which actual aircraft within ‘Bomber Command’ was being discussed, THIS was the position everyone wanted to avoid. At ALL costs! For, without doubt, it was the most dangerous position to find oneself in, to a large extent isolated from the rest of the crew, again irrespective of the actual aircraft, and the first point of attack from any Luftwaffe night fighter aircraft that a British bomber had the misfortune to encounter. And such an attack would not be an even contest, although the four Browning ‘three-oh-three’ machine guns SOUNDS an impressive battery of armament, this firepower was considerably outclassed, both in destructive power AND range, by the twenty millimetre cannon fitted to most Nazi fighter aircraft, including the Messerschmitt Bf110 that was used by much of the German night interceptor fighter squadrons.
However, somehow I’d managed to complete over twenty missions in that ‘suicide’ position, when being there actually saved my life; as the rest of my good friends that formed the crew of Avro Lancaster ‘S’ for Sugar, part of 126 Squadron, Royal Air Force, all perished on that fateful night back in Autumn 1943. For night fighter aircraft weren’t the only deadly weapon of defence that the Germans had at their disposal in order to protect their ‘Fatherland’ from our raids. Just as lethal could be anti-aircraft gunnery from the ground, known as ‘ack-ack’ or ‘flak.’ In particular the famous ‘Eighty-Eight’ millimetre gun, a superbly engineered weapon, was not only VERY effective against aircraft but also proved itself to be a highly successful anti-tank piece of ordinance too. And it was a round fired by one of these very guns that destroyed our aircraft, not long after we’d been caught in a searchlight beam that gave away our location perfectly to the German artillerymen beneath us.
The shell hit our aeroplane right at the front and then exploded, killing everybody except myself within it instantly. And I only just made it to the escape hatch opening in time, as flames engulfed the now, rapidly descending, craft. Having done so however, I then deployed my parachute successfully, and once that had opened, began to contemplate just what to do next. For the reality of my situation wasn’t promising. I would clearly be landing in ‘enemy’ territory, at least one hundred miles from the only neutral nation in central Europe at the time, Switzerland. Dressed in the uniform of one of the armed forces currently at war with the people I’d be landing amongst, armed only with my service pistol. And VERY little ammunition for that! Not good.
As I descended I began to consider the wisdom of simply surrendering to the nearest German Military or Police unit that I encountered. For both Great Britain and Germany had ‘signed up’ to the Geneva Convention, which laid down guidelines for humane treatment of ‘Prisoners of War.’ And generally it was true that British servicemen taken prisoner by the Germans WERE treated fairly, as were their blokes in our hands. Unlike Germans or Russians taken on the Eastern Front, where no such agreement existed, resulting in P.O.W.s of both sides there being herded around almost like animals. And now it appeared the war might be finally drawing to a welcome close. The Russians had managed to inflict a massive defeat on the ‘Wehrmacht’ at Stalingrad over the previous Winter, and finally our own army had ‘got of its backside’ to also decisively defeat the German forces at El Alamein. Might it not be a bad idea to simply ‘sit out’ the rest of the war in relative comfort?
But, isn’t it the duty of any serviceman to, at least, TRY to escape? And there was another factor involved, my pregnant wife, Amy. And I knew that I really MUST, at least, attempt to get back for her. Thankfully, I managed to land safely and completely unobserved. Gathering my parachute, I made an attempt, a reasonable one in the circumstances, to hide both it, and all my ‘flying gear,’ helmet, life jacket, that sort of thing, in a manner that although not completely concealed, would require SOME effort to find. And then set off on foot, looking for somewhere to try to catch up on some sleep, as by now I realised that I was rapidly approaching the point of exhaustion, both physically and mentally.
I came across what looked like some sort of farm or settlement, surrounded by a wall, that although fairly tall, was passable. Which I managed to achieve, to discover an orchard of apple trees on the other side. Laying down between a few of these and fairly well hidden, or so I thought, I settled down to sleep, a state that I descended into immediately.
To be, rather rudely, awakened several hours later, when night had passed into day and the sun was well and truly up and shining. By a female foot nudging my leg, and not too gently either. Struggling to shake the sleep from my eyes, I began to see the person who had disturbed my slumbers, or more accurately the stocking covered leg that had performed said action, which was LONG and shapely, believe me. It finally finished disappearing under am a delightful leather skirt, above which was the VERY shapely torso of a beautiful woman, also covered in leather in the shape of a very stylish jacket. And then finally, above that was a gorgeous face, containing a pair of piecing blue eyes and surrounded by a fantastic ‘head’ of golden hair, which tumbled down either side with REAL style and beauty. However, what REALLY took my eye was the Luger pistol, fitted with a silencer in her right hand, pointing directly at my body. And then this stunningly sexy Lady spoke, in a truly husky and sensuous voice.
“Willkommen in Deutschland, Englander!†She smiled, a ’dirty’ suggestive smile, as she then continued.
“DU BIST MEIN!â€