The flight that left me a sitting duck

WITH regard to the letter from Reg Harper and his hair-raising introduction to flying (Peterborough)— if he had been with me on my first flight, his hair might have risen higher! In 1944, I lived in Kennington which is next to Vauxhall, so how I did not join the same Squadron 2122 as the reader in question I don’t know, as I had attended Vauxhall Street School as a junior. I had joined 1060 Southwark squadron, which met in the evenings in Joanna Street School, Lambeth. In June there was great excitement as a number of us had been invited to go for a week’s camping to Southend Aerodrome, with a chance of a flight! I was one of the lucky ones. We duly arrived and were billeted in an old house that had been adapted into dormitories. After breakfast, we would march onto the aerodrome to watch events happening, making sure we kept out of everyone’s way. On June 20, our chance came. An Oxford aircraft number R6055 appeared. About six of us climbed in and we were away! The usual flight was to take off, gain a height of 1,000ft, do a circular trip and land, which would take about 15 minutes. However, after we had gained height, the radio cracked and we could not understand what was being said. We started to gain more height and the reason became obvious. When ships were waiting for a berth in the Pool of London, they anchored in the Thames estuary. Some of the bigger ships had their own barrage balloons, and it was these that were coming up to us at a rate of knots! There were two further problems. First, we had to keep out of the way of our own aircraft flying to intercept the enemy, and second, we had to stay well hidden from any enemy aircraft that might have got through. If it had done, the phrase ‘sitting duck’ came to mind. At any rate, all went well and we landed safely after 20 minutes. We retained bragging rights for the rest of the stay. While we had all been rather frightened, it was also invigorating. Looking at my flying log, I noticed I also had a flight in the aircraft the next day, but this was a normal trip. I joined the Air Force to do my National Service, but never got to fly — accounts clerks rarely did! Life is ironic. I have lived for the past 29 years in Southend, half-a-mile from what is now a bustling airport.

JOHN ALLEN, Southend-on-Sea, Essex.