BATTLE OVER LONDON.

JOHN SAMPLE.

   At lunchtime on Sunday, my squadron was somewhere south of the Thames Estuary behind several other squadrons of Hurricanes and Spitfires. The German bombers were three or four miles away when we first spotted them. We were at 17,000 feet and they were at about 19,000 feet. Their fighter escort was scattered around. The bombers were coming towards London from the southeast, and at first we could not tell how many there were. We opened our throttles and started to climb towards them, aiming for a point well ahead, where we expected to contact them at their own height. As we converged on them, and it looked as though it were going to be a nice party, for the other squadrons of Spitfires and Hurricanes also turned to join in. By the time we reached a position near the bombers we were over London – central London I should say. We gained a little height on them too, so when I gave the order to attack we were all able to dive on them from their right.

   Each of us selected his own target. Our first attack broke them up pretty nicely. The Dornier I attacked with a burst lasting several seconds began to turn left away from his friends. I gave him five seconds and he went away with white smoke streaming behind him. As I broke away and started to make a steep climbing turn I looked over the side. I recognized the river immediately below me through a hole in the clouds. I saw the bends in the river, and the bridges, and idly wondered where I was. I didn’t recognize it immediately, and then I saw Kennington Oval. I saw the covered stands around the Oval, and I thought to myself; ‘that is where they play cricket.’ It’s queer how in the middle of a battle, one can see something on the ground and think of something entirely different from the immediate job in hand. I remember I had a flashing thought – a sort of mental picture – of a big man with a beard, but at that moment I did not think of the name of W.G. Grace. It was just a swift passing thought as I climbed back to the fight.

   I found myself very soon below another Dornier which had white smoke coming from it. It was being attacked by two Hurricanes and a Spitfire, and it was traveling in north and turning slightly to the right. As I could not see anything else to attack at that moment. I went to join in. I climbed up above him and did a diving attack on him. Coming in to attack I noticed what appeared to be a red light shining in the rear gunners cockpit, but when I got closer I realized I was looking right through the gunners cockpit into the pilots and observers cockpit beyond. The red light was a fire. I gave it a quick burst and as I passed him on the right I looked in through the big glass nose of the Dornier. It was like a furnace inside. He began to go down, and we watched. In a few seconds the tail came off, and the bomber did a forward somersault and then went into a spin. After he had done two turns in his spin his wings broke off outboard of the engines so that all that was left as the blazing aircraft fell was half a fuselage and the wing roots with the engines on the end of them. This dived straight down, just past the edge of a cloud, and then the cloud got in the way and I could see no more of him. The battle was over by then. I couldn’t see anything else to shoot at, so I flew home. Our squadron’s score was five certainties – including one by my sergeant pilot, who landed by parachute in a Chelsea garden.

   A hour later we were in the air again, meeting more bombers and fighters coming in. We got three more – our squadron, I mean. I started to close on a Dornier which was flying through the tops of the clouds. Did you ever see that film Hell’s Angels? You’ll remember how the Zeppelin came so slowly out of the cloud. Well this Dornier reminded me of that. I attacked him four times altogether. When he first appeared through the cloud – you know how clouds go up and down like foam on the water – I fired at him from the left, swinging over to the right, turned in towards another hollow in the cloud, where I expected him to reappear, and fired at him again.

   After the fourth attack he dived down headlong into a clump of trees in front of a house, and I saw one or two cars parked on the gravel drive in front. I wondered whether there was anyone in the doorway watching the bomber crash. Then I climbed up again to look for some more trouble and found it in the shape of a Heinkel 111 which was being attacked by three Hurricanes and a couple of Spitfires. I had a few cracks at the thing before it made a perfect landing on an RAF aerodrome. The Heinkels undercarriage collapsed and the pilot pulled up, after skidding fifty yards in a cloud of dust. I saw two men get out of the right-hand side of the aircraft, and when I turned he was helping a small man across the aerodrome towards a hangar.

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