[Col Bruggy]

Hello,

From Mel Rolfe's biography of Wallace McIntosh:

(W/C) Grey took off at thirty minutes before midnight on 7 June 1944. heading once more for France. His aircraft, LL973 M-Mother ... They were approaching the English coast and other Lancasters were switching on their navigation lights prematurely to reassure gunners on the coast that friendly bombers were overhead and that they should relax. Having been attacked twice in rapid succession everyone on Grey's aircraft was on full-scale lookout and scornful of the other bomber's careless attitude. Tommy Young was staring out of the side and even Happy Hall, the navigator, was looking out of the astrodome, but he was aware that the pilot now knew his way home. Almost without realising it the skipper's eyes also flickered speculatively out into the gloom.
Suddenly wireless operator Bob Jack's troubled voice crackled over the intercom. McIntosh recalls the moment when hearts sank and they wondered if this was a case of being the third time unlucky.
'Bob said he had picked up on his monitor an unusual movement of an aircraft down underneath on our port side. He explained that the aircraft was acting very suspiciously coming in, then drawing back. None of the Lancs were doing that, they were going straight home.
'I was really in control in these situations and said quickly: "For God's sake lads, keep your bloody eyes open. What distance, Bob?" He said: "About 600 to 700 yards." I replied: "All right." It might have been another Lancaster or a Mosquito because Bob now said it was holding its position. Sutherland was watching the port side and I was looking below and beyond the tail. Even grey said he was looking.
Seconds seemed to stretch worryingly into minutes. They would soon be crossing Beachy Head and then home. But would they make it? The tension inside the aircraft seemed almost tangible. It was one thing being shot down over enemy territory. but to be nailed over your own country after the jubilation of bagging two night fighters would be a real pain in the backside. Bob Jack's voice exploded with excitement: 'It's disappeared.' Then, urgently: It's coming in fast behind, now!'
'And looking down on the port side there it was, settling right underneath us, his props whirling,' says McIntosh. 'It was big and shiny and had a glassy look about it. I said abruptly that it was a Messerschmitt 210. It had clearly been vectored on to us and was just hanging there, but we were ready for him. Grey put the nose down slightly and there was the fighter, fully exposed. I had a great view as we edged down to get him up. The German moved up and Larry and I blasted him with all six guns. He didn't have a chance and we gave him no opportunity to get in a shot at us. He wasn't very clever, a sitting duck. The fighter turned over, caught fire, and went spiralling down, crashing into the sea quite close to the beach at Beachy Head. It was 2.33am. The two German crewmen were killed and we carried on back to Spilsby. It had been quite a night, but it had not been for Bob Jack we would have been in a lot of trouble. Another four Lancasters nearby with their recognition lights on suddenly switched the off pretty quickly.'
They landed with some relief at 3.40am and climbed groggily out of the aircraft. Wenham, their temporary bomb aimer, fell dramatically to his knees on the ground and exclaimed: 'Jesus, is it always like this for you chaps?'

See:
Gunning For the Enemy Wallace McIntosh, DFC And Bar, DFM.
Rolfe,Mel.
London:Grub Street,2003.
pp.111-114.

Col.

PS. See also: Chapter Eleven - Three Kills in a Night (pp.109-118).