The Eye of Horus, Excerpt Two: Arriving in Galloway
‘We need to watch out for the high ground.’ said Bob. ‘There’s plenty of it about.’
‘That’s Newton Stewart ahead of us,’ said Michael Dixon, looking at the map he was holding. ‘If we turn to head south from here, we can keep the mass of Cairnsmore of Fleet on our left and descend while we’re over the valley of the River Cree and Wigtown Bay. There’s a hill called Cairnharrow that rises to nearly 1,500 feet not far inland from the bay’s north-east side but so long as we stay over the water we’ll be fine. RAF Wigtown is on the west shore of the bay and given what you said about the winds, our approach to the main runway will be from the north-east.’
‘Thanks, Michael. Mountains are rarely a problem on cloudless days like today when the visibility is endless. Imagine how this would feel on a typical murky November day with the base of the clouds only a few hundred feet above the sea. Then imagine it’s pouring with rain, blowing a gale and, if you want to add even more interest, that the sun set an hour ago. We’d know there were mountains in the area but not exactly where and we’d get very little clue about where we were from settlements on the ground because of the blackout. We’d never have seen Newton Stewart just now.’
‘You make it sound terrifying, Bob.’
‘It can be.’ Bob turned slightly to look across the snug cockpit of the Mosquito at Michael, whose navigator’s seat was to the right of and set back a little from his, leaving just enough room for their shoulders when the rear of Bob’s was touching the front of Michael’s. In the distance he caught a glimpse of a shape against the blue sky, and then a second. ‘Hello, we’ve got company. Look, two aircraft.’
Michael followed the direction of his gaze. ‘They’re fighters and seem to be descending towards us. They’ve got black and white stripes on the bottoms of their wings. I’m hoping you’re going to tell me they’re friendly?’
Bob was surprised by how nervous Michael sounded, then remembered that the cockpit of a Mosquito was a very alien environment for him.
‘Don’t worry, Michael, they’re Hawker Typhoons. The type is still quite new and from some angles can look like a German Focke-Wulf Fw 190. The stripes under the wings are an attempt to avoid being shot at by our own side. They seem to be coming to take a look at us. Can you keep an eye on them and give me a running commentary on where they are?’
Bob saw Michael twist around as far as the straps attaching him to his seat permitted then he looked ahead to focus on their descent towards RAF Wigtown.
‘They’re still closing in,’ said Michael. ‘Now they’ve gone round behind us. Is that safe?’
‘So long as I don’t do anything sudden,’ said Bob. ‘And I promise I won’t.’
‘They’ve closed right in and are a little behind us on your side,’ said Michael, who had turned towards Bob.
It was Bob’s turn to twist around in his seat so he could see the two Typhoons from his good right eye. The lead aircraft came into close formation on the left of the Mosquito with the second a little further out and behind it. Bob saw the pilot of the nearest aircraft turn his head to look at him. He was easily close enough for Bob to see he had his oxygen mask covering the lower part of his face while his goggles were over the brow of his leather flying helmet. The man gave an approximation of a salute with his right hand and when Bob waved in response the outer Typhoon banked sharply away and turned to the left, to be followed a few seconds later by the nearest aircraft.
‘They just wanted to say hello,’ said Bob.
‘Does that mean I can breathe again?’ asked Michael.
‘Up to a point,’ said Bob. ‘Looking ahead I can see half a dozen aircraft in the circuit of the airfield or on longer approaches to land. It looks like RAF Wigtown is a busy place. I’ll call up the tower on the radio.’
...
‘It is a very busy place,’ said Michael as Bob turned the aircraft left off the far end of the runway onto a taxiway that led back towards the hangars and control tower. ‘I recognise most of the aircraft we saw in the air and parked on the ground as Avro Ansons. What are the odd-looking ones with high wings?’
‘Westland Lysanders,’ said Bob. ‘They’re used for target spotting for the army, and some are used to land on rough fields in occupied Europe at night in support of our friends in MI6 and the Special Operations Executive. The idea is to get people in and out without the Germans noticing and it appears to work. It’s not a job I’d have fancied even when I could fly in the dark. Lysanders are also used for training, which I assume is why there are some here. I don’t know if you noticed them, but I also saw four Typhoons parked on the south side of the airfield as we were landing.’ ‘I’m not sure where we can park,’ said Michael. ‘The grass along the inner side of the taxiway is pretty much lined with aircraft.’
‘They’ve asked me to taxi back to the control tower,’ said Bob. ‘That will take us past the hangars.’ Bob watched out for any parked aircraft starting to move. The last thing he wanted was a ground collision on a crowded airfield. ‘We’re being waved onto the grass at the end of this line of Ansons, short of the control tower.’ Bob brought the aircraft to a halt where directed by the airman marshalling them, then shut down the engines.
Michael squeezed through the hatch in the floor of the cockpit first and Bob followed.
‘Group Captain Sutherland?’
Bob saw that an RAF squadron leader was standing beside Michael, who was struggling to remove his Mae West life vest and flying jacket.
Michael waved towards Bob and the squadron leader approached him and saluted.
‘Hello, sir. I’m Flight Lieutenant Talbot, the junior engineering officer. I will act as your liaison here at RAF Wigtown. Group Captain Belmont has asked me to pass on his regards and is happy to meet when it suits you. I understand that you want to visit the army engineers at Cairn Head first and that we can get you settled in afterwards?’
‘That’s right,’ said Bob. ‘I’ve got three more people driving down from Edinburgh who will be here in due course. The army said they’d send a car for me.’
‘Yes, sir. It’s just over there.’ Talbot pointed towards a car that had driven onto the grass at the back of the Mosquito.
‘Thank you, Flight Lieutenant Talbot, and please pass on my thanks to Group Captain Belmont. We’ll leave our gear in the Mosquito and can sort out the domestic arrangements when everyone has arrived.’