It wasn’t the best weather in the world.
Cold and windy, with poor visibility.
An exceptionally bleak January day, even for England.
The American crews had already been sitting on the landing strips for some time when the tall Englishman approached. He was still not quite awake.
Behind the group a shape rose halfway to its feet and waved to him. The Englishman waved back, yawning loudly. Functioning in daytime was difficult after such a long period of nothing but night raids.
It was going to be a long day.
At the far end of the airfield the planes were taxiing slowly towards the southern end of the landing strips. Soon the air would be full of them.
The feeling was both exhilarating and oppressive.
The orders regarding the mission came from Major General Lewis H. Brereton’s office in Sunninghill Park. He was requesting British assistance from Sir Arthur Harris, marshal in the Royal Air Force. The Americans were still impressed by the British Mosquitoes’ discovery, during their November night-time bombing of Berlin, of the Germans’ most closely guarded secret, the V-1 missile sites at Zemplin.
The choice of British personnel had been left to Group Captain Hadley-Jones, who entrusted the practical work to his next-in-command, Wing Commander John Wood.
The latter’s task was to select twelve British flight crews. Eight of them were to function as instructors and four as supporting crews with special photo-reconnaissance duties under the 8th and 9th American Air Forces.
Two-seater P-51D Mustang fighters had been equipped for this task with radar and sensitive optical instruments.
Only two weeks had passed since James Teasdale and Bryan Young had been chosen as the first crew to try out this equipment under so-called ‘normal conditions’.
In short, they could expect to go into action again.
The raid was planned for the 11th January 1944. The target was the aeroplane factories at Oschersleben, Braunschweig, Magdeburg and Halberstadt.
Both men had protested at having their Christmas leave curtailed. They were still suffering from combat fatigue.
‘Two weeks to figure out this bloody machine!’ Bryan shook his head. ‘I don’t know a thing about all those gadgets. Why doesn’t Uncle Sam do his own dirty work?’
John Wood was standing with his back to them both, bowed over the document files. ‘Because Uncle Sam wantsyou!’
‘That’s no argument, is it?’
‘You’ll live up to the Americans’ expectations and come out alive.’
‘Is that a guarantee?’
‘Yes!’
‘Say something, James!’ Bryan turned towards his friend.
James fingered his silk scarf and shrugged his shoulders. Bryan sat down heavily.
It was hopeless. They had to go.
The entire operation was calculated to take a good six hours. A total of about 650 four-engine bombers from the 8th American Air Force were to bomb aeroplane factories, escorted by the P-51 long-distance fighters.
Bryan and James were to break
