- Contributed by听
- joynsonatkinson
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A3213208
- Contributed on:听
- 02 November 2004
A moment of crass stupidity
In September 1940, I was making my way from the company HQ to our tented camp a few fields away. The scene was idyllic, only the golden contrails of fighter planes locked in combat gave any indication that England was fighting a desperate battle. Newspaper bill boards pronounced as if it was a cricket match. Germany 180 England 45 not out.
Suddenly to my rear, I heard a scream of an aeroplane engine. Puffs of soil punctured the ground to my left and I ran for my life, to take shelter behind an oak tree. A German fighter plane skimmed over my head. Immediate there was a loud bang, the plane rose into the air and dropped then exploded. A passing Spitfire had emptied its six Browning and machine guns into the fuselage shards of bright aluminium surrounded a deep hole and only engine and frame indicated that what once had been a superb flying machine, was no more. The Spitfire recorded its victory by wagging it鈥檚 wings and made for its airfield at nearby Hawkinge. All became quiet, only the flapping of the German pilots empty trousers legs, caught up in the branches of the oak tree, provided the sole indication of the event. A moment of crass stupidity had cost the pilot his life.
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