Beaufighter Blitz

by Russell Sullman

  Ninety seconds behind them, Williams and Heather would form the other element of their Beaufighter patrol pair.

  Instrument flying was the only safe and reliable method in minimal or nil visibility, and Rose concentrated on the controls before him, only occasionally glancing forwards and to each side out of the cockpit.

  It was so dark outside that there was little to see. Despite all the training, it still felt strange to concentrate on the inside of the cockpit after all the importance Granny had attached of constantly checking the sky outside with the Mark 1 eyeball.

  It was time to call Sector Control, “Hello Cowshed, Dagger 3 to Cowshed, what instructions?”

  “Hello, Dagger 3, vector zero-nine-zero, what are your angels?”

  “Dagger 3 to Cowshed, steering zero-nine-zero and climbing, presently Angels ten.”

  “Dagger 3, climb to Angels fifteen.”

  “Understood, Cowshed, Angels fifteen.” The curling tendrils of excitement and fear gently clutched his heart and he forced himself to slow his breathing.

  And strangely enough, for the first time in days, his leg was aching.

  The speeding fighter rapidly gained height, achieving their target height within what seemed like record time. Control would have them on the screens now, but it was time to confirm they had achieved altitude.

  Better just check again on White in the back first, though, “Chalky, are you still connected up OK? Check your oxygen flow, please. Make sure your tubes are clear, pal.”

  White answered buoyantly over the intercom, “Yes, sir, connected and working. No problems.” His tone seemed to be saying, of course.

  OK, sorry I asked. “Good man. Ready for a scrap?”

  “Yes sir!” the young voice positively brimmed with confidence and enthusiasm.

  Rose switched to the R/T.

  “Hello Cowshed, Dagger 3 holding at altitude angels fifteen, steering zero-nine-zero, please advise further.” He looked out of the windscreen. It was clearer at this altitude, with patchy cloud cover scattered between fifteen and twenty thousand feet.

  To the south, he could see the outline of the coast through a gap in the low cloud, and a blacked-out Clacton-on-Sea. It felt wonderful holding the vibrating control column in his gauntleted hands, feeling the power of the aeroplane course through him, knowing the firepower that was available to him.

  “Cowshed to Dagger 3, please hold in circuit around Dumpling. Please advise Lamplight Controller that you are in position.”

  Ah, so they were to orbit at fifteen thousand feet in a wide circle, keeping the Colchester beacon five kilometres to port.

  “Thank you, Cowshed, understood.” Rose contacted the Ground Control Intercept (GCI) Controller, code name Lamplight, advising him that they were in position.

  “Dagger 3 to Lamplight, in position angels fifteen orbiting Dumpling, and awaiting directions.”

  “Thank you, Dagger 3, understood, standby, please.” The GCI controller could only direct one interception at a time, and he was involved in one already.

  They would have to patiently wait their turn, but it was unlikely their wait would be long.

  Rose reached for his communications box again, and switched to intercom, “Control are keeping us on hold for a mo’, Chalky.”

  “I’m ready, sir. I can hear you both clearly.”

  “Good, shouldn’t be too long, chum.”

  As they circled, his eyes continued to scan the controls, trying to stay calm. They were possibly only minutes from their first combat together, and now they would find out if the training had been enough.

  I hope Chalky is ready. But, more importantly, perhaps I ought to be asking myself if I am?

  That poisonous little murmur of self-doubt again. But it was too late to be asking questions now.

  Well, we’ll find out the answers soon enough, old son. Any moment now...

  It was time to take the fight to those murdering bastards.

  “Lamplight to Dagger 3.”

  “Dagger 3 to Lamplight, receiving.” His pounding heart began to race again, and his throat started to tighten.

  Oh, fuck. Here we go…

  “Please vector one-three-five, what angels?”

  “Lamplight, be advised Dagger 3 at angels fifteen, steering one-three-five true.”

  “Maintain course, Dagger 3, we have some trade for you.”

  The blood pounded in his ears, and he fought to breathe normally as excitement raced through his body. “Good-oh! Maintaining course and awaiting further instructions.”

  Calm, stay calm.

  “OK, Chalky, hear that? Keep your peepers peeled on The Thing, but keep an eye on the sky behind us, too.” White was well briefed to keep an occasional eye on the airspace behind them. Rose felt better knowing he had a set of eyes occasionally checking what was happening to the rear of them.

  Rose appreciated that the chance of being attacked from astern was minimal, visibility being what it was without an AI, but old habits die hard and he felt more comfortable knowing their vulnerable backside was being monitored.

  “OK, sir.”

  “Dagger 3, vector two-one-zero, incoming bandit, below you. Flash your weapon, please.”

  “Understood, Lamplight, proceeding on two-one-zero. Flashing weapon.”

  Rose turned the Beaufighter onto the new heading, pushing her into a shallow dive, opening the throttles, so that the aeroplane sped eagerly downwards at over three hundred miles per hour, racing towards her destiny, and the bucking vibration of the airframe pulsing through him, dampened within his bones.

  “Anything, Chalky?”

  “Nothing yet, sir.”

  “Right-oh.” He licked a bead of sweat from above his lips, and took another deep, sickly sweet breath of oxygen through his facemask. His face was wet but he daren’t undo the mask to wipe it.

  They continued careering powerfully downwards, Rose’s eyes anxiously flicking from instruments to the enamelled night outside, the controller’s voice crackling in his headphones, whilst behind him in the back, White eagerly pressed his face to the rubber visor protecting the cathode ray tubes of the AI, desperate for the first sign of their prey.

  But still nothing showed on the scope, and tendrils of doubt began to surface.

  After a few more minutes, which felt like rather a lot longer to both of them, there was still nothing, and Rose decided that a little more help would be useful. He called once more to the controller.

  “Dagger 3 to Lamplight-“

  “Contact!” Suddenly, White shouted from behind him, “Level out, turn gently to starboard by, um, twenty degrees.”

  A surge of electricity surged painfully through his body, and a thrill of excitement followed rapidly after it, the hunt was on!

  “Dagger 3 to Lamplight, we have contact, will advise shortly.”

  “Understood, Dagger 3, good hunting.” Then, more softly, “and here’s hoping!”

  “Where is it, Chalky?”

  “Range about two miles, closing, maintain height, and turn ten degrees to starboard.” Strained but calm.

  Good lad.

  Rose eased back slightly on the throttles, smoothly slowing the speeding fighter.

  “Turn five degrees port, sir, maintain height, closing, range now one and a half miles.”

  His temples throbbed, “OK, Chalky, hang on to him, chum!”

  Another moment, then, “Range still coming down, about one mile, maintain height and heading. Keep going as you are.”

  “OK, thanks.” A quick check of the controls, check the reflector gunsight, dim enough but not too dim? Safeties off? Yes, good. Dear old Doggie was hurtling along at a good rate of knots.

  “Range 2,500 feet. See anything yet, sir?”

  Rose took another deep breath of oxygen, and felt the anxiety gnawing at him. “No, Chalky, damn it! I’m sorry, but –“

  Wait! What was that? For a moment he thought he had seen movement against the lighter patch of cloud. He stared to one s
ide of where he thought he’d seen the unknown something.

  Use your peripheral vision, Barr had said, and gulp plenty of oxygen, get as much of it as you can into your bloodstream, and from there into your eyes.

  Don’t strain, let it call out to you.

  The Beaufighter trembled imperceptibly, then began to shake endlessly, and Rose realised that they were now being buffeted by the slipstream of something flying ahead of them.

  Dear Lord, they must be close!

  “Sir? Contact is climbing, course unchanged, range now closed to 2,000 feet.”

  Yes! Good Lord! There was something! Before and a little above him, a vague, barely discernible shadow had appeared out of the darkness, twinned tiny pairs of blue flame, unearthly, faintly glowing pinpoints from the invisible exhausts of a still-invisible bomber, ease back on the throttles, watch your distance...

  As if by magic, the enemy’s outline suddenly began to materialise from out of the blackness. One minute just a shadow, barely visible, and now more distinct.

  It was a shape which was more visible, though, when he looked to one side of the amorphous blob.

  Bloody hell! The blood thundered in his temples.

  “Chalky! Have a squint outside. Ahead and above, tell me what you can see?”

  White swivelled in his seat to look ahead. “Blimey! That’s a bit close! Twin engine, single vertical tailfin, looks a bit chubby. I’d say it was a Heinkel, a Heinkel 111?” White’s hesitant voice was filled with wonder and excitement, and quite possibly more than a trace of fright.

  Or was Rose imagining it?

  The enemy bomber continued to fly sedately before them. It was quite clear in profile now, and he wondered at the lack of reaction from the Luftwaffe aeroplane.

  Surely, they must see the Beaufighter trailing them?

  The hated enemy, and the first enemy plane he’d been so close to for many months! It felt strange to be flying so close to it, in close formation with an enemy bomber, without shooting it up, or getting shot up in turn.

  They hadn’t been seen yet, but that could change at any moment.

  His heart was hammering madly like a kettle drum and white flecks danced before his eyes.

  Rose licked his tight lips with a tongue that suddenly felt like cracked leather.

  White spoke hesitantly, “I still have him on the scope, I’ll stay in contact…” Rose could almost hear his thoughts, “Well come on then, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!”

  Without realising it, he was automatically easing the fighter into an optimal firing position, adjusting the controls carefully.

  Rose nodded, eyes on the looming bomber, even though White could not see it.

  “I agree with you, pal. It’s a Heinkel 111 alright. Hold on to your hat, I’m going to give it a burst. Just look away or shield your eyes in case of flash or an explosion; I’ll need ‘em in a moment. Keep an eye on him in the set, just in case I lose him.”

  Line up on the chosen aiming point, throttle back just a touch, put the gunsight equidistant between those faint exhaust flames, don’t look at the enemy directly, easier to see using indirect vision, allow for deflection, here goes…

  Still no response from the enemy.

  Stop thinking. Finish it.

  “Firing…”

  In response to his pressure on the gun button, the four cannons and six machine guns thumped and rattled with a deafening, shocking thunder, the airframe vibrating madly and the pungent, choking odour of smoke and cordite thick in his nostrils and clogging his windpipe. He choked, and dust swirled around him. It would be a great deal noisier in the back for poor White.

  At the moment of firing, Rose involuntarily closed his eyes for a second but now he opened them, the limited flash from his guns hardly affecting the view ahead.

  There was no tracer in that storm of flying lead, thereby protecting his night vision.

  Thank God he had bags of previous combat experience in deflection shooting; with this darkness the whole business was a lot more complex and confusing, the target only half-seen, dancing wildly in the gunsight when he fired the guns.

  He fired a full two second burst, pushing the nose slightly down gently, to counter for the recoil and to create a vertical three-degree fanning arc of gunfire.

  Points of light flashed on the dancing image in front of him, was that the enemy gunner firing back at them?

  Or were the sparkling flashes the result of his strikes on the enemy bomber? The darkness made it so much more difficult to see the effects, but it must be the latter, because no line of tracer lanced out at them.

  This would take some getting used to.

  But only if fate allows you the chance to do so, my old son…

  The Beaufighter was roughly buffeted and swaying in the Heinkel’s slipstream, gunfire spraying out with Rose grimly holding course, fighting to hold her pugnacious little nose on target and retain his aiming point as he pumped destruction at the enemy.

  And then he lifted his thumb and the hammering, thumping guns fell silent.

  Rose took a deep breath of the sweet oxygen and frowned out to see the effect of his guns,

  “Break hard to port! Break! BREAK!”

  A desperate scream from White, high pitched and bursting with fear, shocking Rose into an instant and automatic manoeuvre that dragged the sluggish Beaufighter into a sudden skidding, climbing turn, the controls seeming to resist him.

  He gasped with effort, and his vision blurred, greyed, and then there was the irregular clattering of torn fragments of shredded metal from the Heinkel against the skin of the Beaufighter.

  They’d hit it, at least!

  And better still, it hadn’t hit them. Or, at least, not with return fire.

  He could hear White gasping and grunting over the intercom, “Chalky! Are you OK? What did you see?” Rose croaked drily.

  Reassuringly, both Hercules engines continued to run smoothly, there were no abnormal vibrations in the airframe, and the instruments did not cry out doom-laden warnings of impending danger or damage.

  As soon as the Beaufighter’s guns stopped firing the Heinkel had suddenly slowed drastically, whilst also beginning to climb and turn to starboard.

  With the distance between them rapidly shrinking, and the enemy bomber suddenly looming huge out of the darkness before them, White had foreseen the risk that they were going to run right into the enemy bomber, urgently, frantically calling the turn away, even as a catastrophic collision seemed imminent and unavoidable.

  Rose’s speedy response being not a moment too soon, and had been almost too late.

  “Cripes, luvaduck!” White let out a big whoosh of exhaled breath nervously, “I was sure we were going to crash into him, sir; I think you must have hit him!”

  “I’ve lost sight of him, chum, can you see the blighter?” Rose took another deep breath of oxygen. Was it him shuddering or was it the Beaufighter?

  Had they themselves been damaged?

  Worry gnawed at him again.

  Rose fancied that White’s voice was thin with strain. “Keep turning, sir, I’ve still got him on The Thing, heading two-nine-five, losing height.”

  “Two-nine-five, OK”

  A moment, then, “Oh! Hallo! I just checked our tail, sir, and I think I can see a parachute just a bit behind us, sir. I think you must have hit him pretty hard if one of them baled out!”

  Blood drubbing in his temples. “Turning two-nine-five, but, more important, are you OK, Chalky?”

  “Right as rain, sir, thank you. It’s quite fun, this, isn’t it?” White chirped brightly.

  Rose blinked. His heart was still hammering painfully, his throat and chest tight, and his shoulders ached abominably.

  Fun? FUN?

  Bloody hell! “Mm, it certainly is an experience.” He turned his head to look along White’s directions.

  Couldn’t see a blessed thing. Not a bobbin.

  “Range?” he asked casually.

  “Two miles, cl
osing slightly, lose a spot of height, sir.”

  Put her into a shallow dive once more, push forward the throttles a touch, check the instruments yet again, peer out beyond the bullet proof windscreen.

  The airframe was shaking wildly, engines howling, as she plunged after the enemy.

  Where are you, you bloody Nazi bastard?

  “Level out, sir, range down to one mile, directly ahead of us now.”

  “Is it manoeuvring at all?” Rose gasped, his face damp with effort, and wrists aching from the juddering in the airframe as he pulled hard on the controls as they began to stiffen with speed, but he did not dare to take even one hand off the control stick to wipe his eyes.

  “Flying straight and level, range closing, throttle back just a smidgen, sir.”

  A moment, then, “A little more, sir,” then, surprised, “Oh! I have something breaking away, sir…can you see anything?”

  Something materialised magically before and beneath him, a pale mushroom-like shape, and then it was gone in an instant to one side as he looked ahead.

  “My goodness, yes, I see it! D’you know, I think it’s a parachute! Is it the one you saw before, do you think?” his shoulders ached cruelly.

  “Can’t be, that was quite far behind, sir. Be well behind us now.”

  Two parachutes! The crew were baling out! It must have been hit hard by that first two second gunfire burst if the crew were abandoning it…

  An outline began to materialise dimly before them again. Was that smoke that he could smell?

  “I see it! I’ve picked it up again! What’s the range, Chalky?”

  The enemy visible once more, fresh vigour rippled through him in a scintillating wave.

  “Five hundred yards and closing, sir. Our angels. Height constant.”

  The lad sounded quite controlled now, a consummate professional guiding his pilot in for the coup de grace.

  “Yes, I can just make it out again,” he reduced the throttles gradually as they drew ever closer, staring just to one side of the amorphous smudge before him. “I’m going to give him another burst, Chalky, can you see him?”

  “Um, I think so, sir, wait, yes! I can!”

  Rose sighted carefully, led, checked once more, and pressed down savagely again on the gun button.