The Sunrise Raiders by D. R. Bailey EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: D. R. Bailey
- Language: English
- Genre: War Fiction
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The North Sea, 1941
I lay in the dinghy, shading my eyes against the sun. Dawn had finally
broken after a long night. I was adrift in the North Sea somewhere between
England and Holland; I had no idea where. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be.
I had a raging thirst and nothing to drink. My hopes of an early rescue had
been dashed after being shot down on a sortie the night before.
It hadn’t been an auspicious mission in the first place. The three of us,
Pilot Officer Willie Cooper, Pilot Officer Jonty Butterworth, and me, Flying
Officer Angus Mackennelly, had been sent out on a patrol. There was a
shroud of cloud cover above us, which was never a good thing to be flying
in. Bandits could remain concealed until the last moment, when they
attacked.
We crossed the water just after Clacton and headed towards the coast of
Belgium. We would patrol northward up the middle of the sea between the
two countries. It was one of those times when you got the feeling something
wasn’t right.
“I don’t like this, Skipper,” said Jonty over the radio, as we turned to fly
our patrol up towards the north.
It was unlike Jonty to be pessimistic. He was normally an incurable
optimist. If he didn’t like it, then there was definitely something amiss.
“What’s the matter?” Willie teased him. “No ballads in the offing?”
Jonty’s propensity to burst into song was a bone of contention between
them. He had a knack for composing ballads out of everything and
anything, to Willie’s annoyance. The two of them were, nevertheless, the
best of chums.
“No,” said Jonty. “No, there’s something in the air and I don’t like it.”
Willie left off baiting him and we anxiously scanned the skies above and
to the rear. If there was going to be a place Jerry would attack from, this
would be it. After twenty minutes or so, I decided we’d had enough and
should head for home. That should make Squadron Leader Richard Bentley,
CO of Squadron 696, the Mavericks, happy at least. We’d have done our
patrol and returned safely.
I was just about to give the order to return to base when Willie cried out in
alarm.
“Bandits, bandits coming in fast, two o’clock high.”
“I told you! I told you this would happen,” said Jonty.
“Break, break now!” I said frantically, seeing the incoming planes for
myself.
“There’s only two of them,” said Jonty, half relieved.
We had split up and were circling in to meet their attack.
“Wait a minute,” said Willie. “Those aren’t ME109s.”
“Well, what the hell are they?” I said, noting the absence of the familiar
yellow nose.
“Damned if I know, but let’s take them anyhow. How hard can it be?”
Never were there more famous last words. We tried to fly in a pincer
movement, but these newcomers were quick. They flipped out and away
before any of us could fire.
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