Author Topic: Okinawa 45 campaign, progress  (Read 1064 times)

Offline AKA_Goshawk

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Re: Okinawa 45 campaign, progress
« Reply #15 on: February 19, 2018, 03:15:53 pm »
"Gos you never were short on words in your ladder stories!  Those bring back fun memories"

Rel: Don't think you're gonna get off that easily. Here's one from your own log book memory bank.

***********

No609_Relent's pilotlog entry:
Well that was fun chaps! I think I'm
gonna try that again ;-)... Request
bolter! (MORE...)

Posted By: No609_Relent <jcam_0@my-deja.com> (e249.nas22.sonic.net)
Date: Thursday, 30 September 1999, at 9:46 p.m.


It was 0400 as I staggered out of my quarters towards the briefing hut, pitch black, wet and cold this "fine English September morning", huh! I started thinking about that crazy mission over 3 years prior...

I was just a pilot officer then, but a German speaking one - sheesh just my luck. Jerry surprised the heck out of us with that butcherbird 190, and we had to get a working copy pronto. So just my luck, I'm "volunteered" to be dropped behind
enemy lines, 10 miles from a Jerry airfield in Metz, in eastern France. The French underground had uncovered a staging airfield where 190's were being ferried to airfields closer to the French coast.

Man I should have just said "...put me in the brig now, 'cause I ain't goin'". Huh, "luckily" for me, our C.O. IcePick convinced me it was possible, that "we" might just pull this off...huh, yeah right, "we"! He didn't warn me that if I didn't, I'd likely be shot on site, if the Germans caught up with me. After a night drop, and some brisk walking, I lucked out on the approach to the airfield - hearing a motorcycle approaching from the east. I quickly unrolled a length of rope I had in my survival pack, and tied it to a tree across the road, and ran to the near side, pulling the rope taut after tying it around another tree. It was still early, the sun hadn't quite come up yet, so it would be hard to make out the rope strung a few feet over the dirt roadway...

Riding the motorcycle onto the airfield, with my new uniform on, official id, and papers to deliver, I felt confident I could get into the base without raising any eyebrows. After dropping off the papers to the base commanding officer, I made the
rounds chatting with the pilots and ground crew, trying to look interested. Sheesh, one of the mechanics was beaming about "his new bird", and couldn't wait to show me. He even let me climb into the cockpit of a 190, and described some of the instruments before his "sgt. major" just about ripped him a new back side while I was told in no uncertain terms to "get the hell out of that plane". That character was a mean one, Greywolf I think was his name (I had a feeling I'd be seeing more of him sometime - but in the air). But it was just enough information for me to figure out how to get one of these planes up and out of here...

After about an hour of wandering and looking interested in all this, I was able to sneak back towards a row of about 20 190's. I picked one second from the end, so my movements could be covered from both sides. I climbed into the cockpit, keeping my head low so I could keep out of site just a little longer... Remembering what the overly-enthusiastic mechanic had told me, I primed the engine after confirming this bird had full fuel tanks - and ammo to spare ;-). I was ready to rumble...

Unfortunately for me, that engine did rumble! No sooner had I cranked up the rpm's then about 20 men started running my way from a nearby hanger. Uh oh, I guess they've got this all scheduled - that's "efficient" Jerry for you! I pushed the throttle to the stops and the butcher bird started rolling on freshly paved asphalt. I could hear gunfire now, as a slug crashed through the canopy - still slid back on it's tracks.

As I picked up speed and started my rotation into the air, I could feel how nimble this bird was - no wonder our Spit 1's and 2's were having a tough time with this girl - sheesh!

I kept her low - under 200 feet - to stay below German radar that was sure to be scouring the countryside looking for me. The plan was for me to fly north through Belgium and Holland, then fly north west towards and over the North Sea, and then
west to England and safety. After about 30 minutes of hugging the ground, a shwarm of 109's was vectoring towards me from the west - some ground observers must have spotted me and gave my general direction - damn! I pushed the throttle to the stops, picking up speed past 600kph - wow this bird is fast too. The first two 109's made a boom and zoom pass, but luckily they didn't hit anything. I kept my speed up, hugging the ground to make it hard to pick me out against the backdrop. Then the next two came at me, but they had to slow down for fear they wouldn't pull up. Just at the right time, I rolled the plane 90 degrees to left - man! this thing can roll! As I pulled back on the stick, rolled 180 and pulled back, I was behind them! I lined the rear 109 up and fired the guns. Oh my Lord! What the heck is this think packin?!

The 109 literally blew up! As the forward 109 started jinking, I was able to pull lead and fire a burst into the left wing root. Man, it must have 4 20mm or more, as the wing just tore off!. Hmmm we could use this bird across the channel ;-) I was able to zig zag enough that the first two 109's lost sight of me while they were extending to gain altitude from their dive. From then on it was clear sailing through the rest of Belgium, through Holland and over most of the North Sea...

As I approached the English coast, I radioed that "butcher 1" (my call sign) was approaching Martlesham, to make sure they didn't shoot me down as a German raider. Just as I broke throught the clouds at 5000 feet, I could see the airfield
ahead, about 10 miles. Then out of the corner of my eye I could see 3 spits screaming down on me at 4 o'clock high.... Dammit, they didn't warn them!! I rolled the butcherbird over and split-S'd to get some distance between me and my
"comrades", but they were good and didn't let me extend very far. I could see tracers flying all around me, the excellent roll rate of this bird certainly saving me today. As the first spit raced past me, I could make out the "PR" in front of the
roundel - I was gonna be killed by my bloody own 609 mates!!! I got on the radio and started yelling that I was British, that I just stole this plane from the Jerries! Then I heard a familiar voice reply - "Rel? Is that you?" - It was Kos! "Bloody well
right" I said, "and Ice will have your hide if you put another scratch in this bird!"...

With that pleasant thought, I walked into the briefing room - a strange feeling coming over me. Instead of the usual bunch of chaps mumbling about the next mission, only a handful were in the room, including IcePick, Compans, and Kos.
"Rel", Ice finally said, "Jerry has come up with a new bird - no props, but some kind of jet propulsion". "OK", I said, "But..." then Ice cut me off, "Rel, you're gonna have to go back and do it all over again..."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!..."

;-)

No.609_Relent, 1999
« Last Edit: February 19, 2018, 03:18:23 pm by AKA_Goshawk »


"Death from above"