The Story of Charlie Dowzell (5): Going Home
Posted: Sun Jan 08, 2006 4:34 pmPart 4B here
As I crept around the house, I saw my saviour.....
Thunderclouds. Lots of thunderclouds.
At last, I thought, I could freely traverse land without such a large threat of being shot to pieces by the Messerschmitt's.
I felt a ray of hope in my currently terrible hope. but then I realised that I was still behind enemy lines, and by now the entire German Army was probably looking for me.
I decided to follow the road until I found something that would aid me in my escape. But what I found was much different. The wreck of my Hurricane. In the course of what seemed to be about 2 hours, I had come full circle. I truly was lost.
But then I heard it. The unmistakable purr of an allied engine:-
At first I was unable to make it out, as the thunderclouds had come over incredibly quickly causing a tremendous thunderstorm. But I knew for a fact it was allied, the engine sounded British made.
It came closer. I could make out the shape, the wings were high on the fuselage and narrow at the join - this was a Lysander! They had found me!
The Lysander glided down into the small field where I crahsed. A figure hopped out carrying a box of medical supplies. I instantly recognised him as Gerald McMiller, an optimistic Scottish reconnaisance and extraction pilot from RAF Tinwald Down, my new aerodrome.
"Aye laddie," he called to me over the howling wind and rain, "ye' had to crash in this weather, didn't ye?"
"Well," I told him as I chuckled, "those damn Gerries got me."
"Och aye," he acknowledged, "climb aboard, I'll have me mate Scotty fix ye' up."
I followed him on, trying to focus on something else than the sharp wind and rain, the searing pain in my head and my leg, and my arm, whih i just discovered, had a fragment of a bullet in it. I certainly was a terrible sight, I thought to myself.
I boarded the Lysnader, and, as it was buffeted around madly by the attrocious weather, it took to the skies. At last. I was going home.
It was going to a lonely flight home. By the standards of the weather, it was also going to be a nerver-wracking flight home.
Every so often, I feel lonely, I feel like I want to be back home, in my comfortable armchair, reading my books, in the safety of the warm lounge, with a gentle fire crackling. This was one of those times.
My mind drifted into deep thought. I remembered my family. Ahh, their such sweet faces. I thought of my parents, who were probably sitting down to a wonderful dinner, cooked by my mother.
I thought of Rory, who was probably preparing his Hurricane for another sortie - Rory!! He could be in trouble!
I called forward to Gerald. "We need to go back and look for Rory, Gerald."
"Nay, lad, cannae do it. The Lysander'll run dry," he told me.
"I can fight off the Germans fine, and think of those years you had in the army, Gerald - if we run out of fuel, we fight our way back to Britain.
He paused. "Aye, if ye' say so, let's look for ya' mate." I could sense that Gerald was feeling rather patriotic tonight; usually he is sensible, but this mad decision must have been driven on for other reasons.
"Keep yer' eyes peeled, lads," Gerald told Scotty and I.
"Okay," we both said in unison.
It was a good 10 minutes before I saw it. There, burning in the hills, was Rory's Hurricane. "There!" I called out. I can see it!"
"I got her in my sights, coming in for evac now," Gerald stated.
Soon, the Lysander found an appropriate landing spot. I braced for the landing.
The Lysander slipped to a halt on the sodden grass. There was the wreckage of once a majestic fighting aircraft.
We all jumped out, picking our way around the fires, and pulled Rory out of the cockpit. "RORY!!" I called to him, slapping his face to try and awaken him.
"Dinnae do that, laddie," Gerlad told me, "you'll only make it worse."
"We have to leave. Come on!!" I shouted to the almost comical pair. They ran headlong back to the Lysander.
We were all onboard, as the Lysander was almost thrown off of the ground. The aircraft was getting increasingly difficult to control, as I saw Gerald fighting the controls.
****
It was a good 4 hours before we arrived at the coast. for safety reasons, we were instructed to follow the East English coast up to Tinwald Down. The risk of being blown to smithereens by German Battleships was too great.
I was sat, looking at Rory. Such a good friend. He had to pull through this, he was the sort of character who had a positive look on life no matter what.
Then I heard the engine splutter. I looked up. "What was that?" I asked.
"Och aye, this dinnae look good to me, me lad. The fuel ran dry like a Haggis withoot moisture."
So.....can we glide to the shore from here?" I asked.
"Och aye, I'll do me best, I can see Scotland from here, I think I can make it........."
As I crept around the house, I saw my saviour.....
Thunderclouds. Lots of thunderclouds.
At last, I thought, I could freely traverse land without such a large threat of being shot to pieces by the Messerschmitt's.
I felt a ray of hope in my currently terrible hope. but then I realised that I was still behind enemy lines, and by now the entire German Army was probably looking for me.
I decided to follow the road until I found something that would aid me in my escape. But what I found was much different. The wreck of my Hurricane. In the course of what seemed to be about 2 hours, I had come full circle. I truly was lost.
But then I heard it. The unmistakable purr of an allied engine:-
At first I was unable to make it out, as the thunderclouds had come over incredibly quickly causing a tremendous thunderstorm. But I knew for a fact it was allied, the engine sounded British made.
It came closer. I could make out the shape, the wings were high on the fuselage and narrow at the join - this was a Lysander! They had found me!
The Lysander glided down into the small field where I crahsed. A figure hopped out carrying a box of medical supplies. I instantly recognised him as Gerald McMiller, an optimistic Scottish reconnaisance and extraction pilot from RAF Tinwald Down, my new aerodrome.
"Aye laddie," he called to me over the howling wind and rain, "ye' had to crash in this weather, didn't ye?"
"Well," I told him as I chuckled, "those damn Gerries got me."
"Och aye," he acknowledged, "climb aboard, I'll have me mate Scotty fix ye' up."
I followed him on, trying to focus on something else than the sharp wind and rain, the searing pain in my head and my leg, and my arm, whih i just discovered, had a fragment of a bullet in it. I certainly was a terrible sight, I thought to myself.
I boarded the Lysnader, and, as it was buffeted around madly by the attrocious weather, it took to the skies. At last. I was going home.
It was going to a lonely flight home. By the standards of the weather, it was also going to be a nerver-wracking flight home.
Every so often, I feel lonely, I feel like I want to be back home, in my comfortable armchair, reading my books, in the safety of the warm lounge, with a gentle fire crackling. This was one of those times.
My mind drifted into deep thought. I remembered my family. Ahh, their such sweet faces. I thought of my parents, who were probably sitting down to a wonderful dinner, cooked by my mother.
I thought of Rory, who was probably preparing his Hurricane for another sortie - Rory!! He could be in trouble!
I called forward to Gerald. "We need to go back and look for Rory, Gerald."
"Nay, lad, cannae do it. The Lysander'll run dry," he told me.
"I can fight off the Germans fine, and think of those years you had in the army, Gerald - if we run out of fuel, we fight our way back to Britain.
He paused. "Aye, if ye' say so, let's look for ya' mate." I could sense that Gerald was feeling rather patriotic tonight; usually he is sensible, but this mad decision must have been driven on for other reasons.
"Keep yer' eyes peeled, lads," Gerald told Scotty and I.
"Okay," we both said in unison.
It was a good 10 minutes before I saw it. There, burning in the hills, was Rory's Hurricane. "There!" I called out. I can see it!"
"I got her in my sights, coming in for evac now," Gerald stated.
Soon, the Lysander found an appropriate landing spot. I braced for the landing.
The Lysander slipped to a halt on the sodden grass. There was the wreckage of once a majestic fighting aircraft.
We all jumped out, picking our way around the fires, and pulled Rory out of the cockpit. "RORY!!" I called to him, slapping his face to try and awaken him.
"Dinnae do that, laddie," Gerlad told me, "you'll only make it worse."
"We have to leave. Come on!!" I shouted to the almost comical pair. They ran headlong back to the Lysander.
We were all onboard, as the Lysander was almost thrown off of the ground. The aircraft was getting increasingly difficult to control, as I saw Gerald fighting the controls.
****
It was a good 4 hours before we arrived at the coast. for safety reasons, we were instructed to follow the East English coast up to Tinwald Down. The risk of being blown to smithereens by German Battleships was too great.
I was sat, looking at Rory. Such a good friend. He had to pull through this, he was the sort of character who had a positive look on life no matter what.
Then I heard the engine splutter. I looked up. "What was that?" I asked.
"Och aye, this dinnae look good to me, me lad. The fuel ran dry like a Haggis withoot moisture."
So.....can we glide to the shore from here?" I asked.
"Och aye, I'll do me best, I can see Scotland from here, I think I can make it........."
Thanks!! 
) ;D