A Raid Over Berlin

Prologue A Miraculous Escape

Even now, after almost seventy-five years, I still have no idea how I came to be falling through the savaged sky, amidst the smoke, bombs and deadly flak that raged over Berlin, on that fateful night in 1944, but, whether it was an act of God or an unbelievable twist of fate, I have remained ever grateful.

At that moment I had little time to ponder such a question, as Nazi Germany rushed ever closer beneath my feet, nor could I think about our stricken Lancaster MK1 and the rest of my crew◦– although they too have remained in my thoughts across the decades◦– as I knew I was far from being in the clear.

I quickly tried to recall the time spent in the classroom in basic training and all the advice we needed to heed when lost behind enemy lines, however, in hindsight, there was little they could have said to prepare me for what was to come.

Of the 125,000 courageous men of Bomber Command, who set off on missions over enemy territory during the Second World War, almost half never returned to their families; thankfully I did but it was to be over a year before I saw my loved ones again.

The memory of that exacting journey, the terror and hardship, panic and uncertainty, has always cast an unwanted shadow in my periphery, like that of a rain cloud menacing a summer’s day, but I wish to recall it here, so it is not lost when my passing, so fortunately outfoxed on several occasions, so many years ago, finally catches up with me.