THE NIGHT I OBEYED THE LADY
By
ROBERT W. FISH
The time was late summer of 1944. I was on a resupply “Carpetbagger” mission to an area southeast of Paris, France. I can no longer remember whose B-24 and whose crew I was using for that flight. When I flew combat I made it a practice to act as the aircraft commander and to fly from the left side pilot’s seat.
We were only a few miles from our initial point when our flight engineer stepped onto the flight deck and informed me that we had a fire in the bomb bay. I gave that bit of intelligence a split second’s worth of thought and then said to him, “Don’t tell me your troubles, go back and put it out.” He did. An electrical short adjacent to a hydraulic fluid leak had ignited the fire.
With the situation back under control we elected to continue our flight to the target drop zone. The moon was very bright, the night was clear, we could see for miles. It was an ideal situation in which to be “zapped” by a night fighter.
Upon arriving at the target area we were disappointed by no reception party. That left us no choice but to return to England.
A few minutes into our return flight, the tail gunner came on the interphone and said, “Hard right!! Hard right!!” That got my attention and I did a diving hard right turn of about 90 degrees followed by a few violent cork screws right on the deck. My immediate reaction was that we had a night fighter on our tail. I next asked him why the alert.
He told me that we had had another B-24, one of our own aircraft, overtaking us and about to ram us from the rear. He estimated that it was less than one hundred feet behind us and exactly on our altitude when he saw it in the moonlight.
About halfway between Paris and London we lost power on our number three engine and had to feather the propeller. We climbed to about 2,000 feet of altitude to give us some room for maneuver in case we had to bail out.
As we approached the French coast I radioed the British Air Defense Controller to request a change in my flight plan to allow us to take the most direct route home to Harrington.
Our approved flight plan called for us to skirt around London to the south-west before we turned north to our base at Alconbury. That route would add about twenty minutes more flight time than a direct route.
I received an immediate response to my request. A female voice came on the radio and requested that we make a ninety turn to my left. This was an identification maneuver to allow the radar operator to positively identify my aircraft. As we completed the turn that same voice came back on the radio. “I have you identified. Follow my instructions and I will take you home. Fly a heading of 353 degrees.” That heading would fly me right over the heart of London. The heart of London was not normally a friendly area for any aircraft, especially at night. The anti-aircraft gunners in defense of London became very nervous whenever an aircraft entered their defense territory. I did not relish the idea of exposing my aircraft to them, so I began to bear a little more to the right so as to pass east of London.
In about three minutes she requested my heading and altitude. I reported 2,000 feet and 10 degrees. Her response was immediate. In very firm tones she came back with, “Listen to me, Yank! I gave you a heading of 353 degrees. Now get your ass back on that heading and hold it until I tell you otherwise! Please acknowledge!” I did, “Yes Mam!” She guided us directly to our landing field where we landed without further incident.
Footnotes:
1) “They Flew by Night”, author – Col. Robert W. Fish (Ret.) – Pages 219 & 220
By
ROBERT W. FISH
The time was late summer of 1944. I was on a resupply “Carpetbagger” mission to an area southeast of Paris, France. I can no longer remember whose B-24 and whose crew I was using for that flight. When I flew combat I made it a practice to act as the aircraft commander and to fly from the left side pilot’s seat.
We were only a few miles from our initial point when our flight engineer stepped onto the flight deck and informed me that we had a fire in the bomb bay. I gave that bit of intelligence a split second’s worth of thought and then said to him, “Don’t tell me your troubles, go back and put it out.” He did. An electrical short adjacent to a hydraulic fluid leak had ignited the fire.
With the situation back under control we elected to continue our flight to the target drop zone. The moon was very bright, the night was clear, we could see for miles. It was an ideal situation in which to be “zapped” by a night fighter.
Upon arriving at the target area we were disappointed by no reception party. That left us no choice but to return to England.
A few minutes into our return flight, the tail gunner came on the interphone and said, “Hard right!! Hard right!!” That got my attention and I did a diving hard right turn of about 90 degrees followed by a few violent cork screws right on the deck. My immediate reaction was that we had a night fighter on our tail. I next asked him why the alert.
He told me that we had had another B-24, one of our own aircraft, overtaking us and about to ram us from the rear. He estimated that it was less than one hundred feet behind us and exactly on our altitude when he saw it in the moonlight.
About halfway between Paris and London we lost power on our number three engine and had to feather the propeller. We climbed to about 2,000 feet of altitude to give us some room for maneuver in case we had to bail out.
As we approached the French coast I radioed the British Air Defense Controller to request a change in my flight plan to allow us to take the most direct route home to Harrington.
Our approved flight plan called for us to skirt around London to the south-west before we turned north to our base at Alconbury. That route would add about twenty minutes more flight time than a direct route.
I received an immediate response to my request. A female voice came on the radio and requested that we make a ninety turn to my left. This was an identification maneuver to allow the radar operator to positively identify my aircraft. As we completed the turn that same voice came back on the radio. “I have you identified. Follow my instructions and I will take you home. Fly a heading of 353 degrees.” That heading would fly me right over the heart of London. The heart of London was not normally a friendly area for any aircraft, especially at night. The anti-aircraft gunners in defense of London became very nervous whenever an aircraft entered their defense territory. I did not relish the idea of exposing my aircraft to them, so I began to bear a little more to the right so as to pass east of London.
In about three minutes she requested my heading and altitude. I reported 2,000 feet and 10 degrees. Her response was immediate. In very firm tones she came back with, “Listen to me, Yank! I gave you a heading of 353 degrees. Now get your ass back on that heading and hold it until I tell you otherwise! Please acknowledge!” I did, “Yes Mam!” She guided us directly to our landing field where we landed without further incident.
Footnotes:
1) “They Flew by Night”, author – Col. Robert W. Fish (Ret.) – Pages 219 & 220
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