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I lived on the outskirts of Market Rasen in Lincolnshire. It was the winter of 1942, my friend and I were walking from my house into town. On the horizon to the north east, we could see a red glow in the sky, which was not too unusual as Hull had been a target of the Luftwaffe for some time. We heard the sound of an approaching plane, assuming it to be an RAF night fighter. Both of us being in the ATC and studying aircraft recognition, stood in the centre of the road staring skyward. As it passed overhead at a few hundred feet we were transfixed on seeing the German markings on the wings plus a fleeting view of the cockpit and gun turrets. Rather inexplicably the plane turned to drop a few incendries in the field behind our house, but also surprisingly, the two gunners did not take a few pot shots at us as we were both in our ATC uniforms.

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