Billy picked himself up. He still couldn’t hear anything but the explosions has stopped, and the heat had died down. He could feel that at least. As he looked around he could not comprehend what he saw. What had been hectors of stored aircraft and repair facilities were now smoking, burning rubble with flames reaching for the sky and smoke blotting out the sun. Incredible carnage as far as his eye could see. He only had one eye now as a result of the second explosion that had knocked him down as he tried to man his dual 40 mm anti-aircraft gun. He may have nicked the plane that took his eye, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t even walk straight, probably something to do with his ears.
One eyed and deaf he wandered around trying to avoid the biggest fires and to search for anyone else. He found a wounded woman and tried to help her, but she screamed and curled up into a ball when she looked at him. At least it looked like she was screaming. Mouth open and that look of shock and fear. Yes she was screaming, only he couldn’t hear her. He then felt the something kind of bouncing on his cheek and realized it was his left eye. No wonder she screamed. What the hell do you do with an eye that’s hanging out of its socket? Do you try and put it back? He felt tired and collapsed near the curled up woman.
The piece of charred acreage that Tom was dying on was the home of the former RAF Maintenance and Aircraft Recovery unit 14 stationed in Carlisle. Hundreds of old Spitfires had been transported here for repair and refurbishing. Parts were cannibalized and swapped by the thousands. Hundreds of Spits had been rebuilt almost as good as new by the hundreds of skilled craftsman who used to live and work here. Now the Spitfires where pieces of burning junk and many of the skilled artisans were dead or dying. Tom was one of them. He could make a Merlin hum. Now he couldn’t even hear one even if he hadn’t passed out.
No one had thought to harden or even defend in detail this bone yard of World War Two surplus Spitfires that were about to be refurbished. Parked in neat rows ready for this or that part, they had been easy to destroy. All lined up ready for the cluster bombs and napalm of the Soviet bombers and fighters. Who had thought that the VVS could reach Carlisle in force? Who thought the Soviets knew about Carlisle and its gold mine of spare parts and mothballed Spits? Who thought that the Soviets knew where the most talented scroungers and scavengers in the United Kingdom were concentrated on this day?
Nineteen other bone yards had been attacked and all but two destroyed. Thirteen of the largest RAF Maintenance Units[8] had ceased to exist as a unit today. 982 surplus Spitfires were destroyed along with hundreds of other aircraft. The greatest loss was to the highly trained mechanics and ground crews. The end result of the first 1000 plane raids by the VVS was that there were not more than a hundred surplus Spitfires available for the next three months and barely enough personnel to put them back together again. The attacks devastated the moral of the RAF in the short term. Shocked the British people and government into an almost catatonic state and brought home the fact that there was nowhere to hide from the Soviet Voyenno-Vozdushnye Sily.
Every inch of the British Isles was within range of a massive enemy air force and once again a small but determined few would attempt to save their small nation from an attack from above.
Just saw an advertisement for a new movie coming out before Christmas called “It’s a Great Life or Wonderful Life”, directed by Frank Capra. I sure liked his movies about the war effort. Those “Why We Fight” movies sure got me stirred up.
Usually I don’t like this kind of thing but it could be good. It stars Jimmy Stewart. I guess he made it before he went back in to the Army Air Force. It has angels and a redemption theme. His love interest is a new girl named Donna Reed. She is cute. A guy at the barber shop showed me a nude picture of her. I guess those starlets have to get on screen somehow. The casting couch must not be a myth. I sure wish I was a Hollywood Director. On second thought I wouldn’t give up my family for a chance at bedding the most beautiful girls in the world…
The economy is really slowing down again for civilian products. The military stuff is taking over again. I guess Truman and his brain trust are starting to get their head out of their ass. I heard it was the big wig corporate types that didn’t want to go into debt further. Hell we just fought a war to save those poor folks over there and they are worried about business when another tin pot dictator comes along. If you ask me if you put business before your country you are a traitor and should be treated as one. Imagine trying to fight a war without asking the average man to sacrifice anything while your fighting men are dying and getting maimed and you sitting at home worried about the next good movie.
I do what I can. I tried to join but they keep saying my job is critical to the war effort. Who would have thought that paper and paper products were a critical part of the war effort.
Bill Swain is still not able to come back to work. According to Mary he has horrible nightmares about his time in Guadalcanal. He wakes up screaming and is pouring in sweat. I guess he even attacked Mary before he came out of it. Combat must be terrible. I wonder if there is any help for these guys? I guess they call it battle fatigue or something. Old Blood and Guts Patton almost lost his job because he didn’t believe in it and slapped that soldier. After being with Bill I believe it. Something’s just aren’t meant for the average man to endure. I wonder how many hand to hand combat situations Patton got himself in to? Maybe he’s just one of those rare individuals that can live with killing a man up close. No one knows how they would react until it happen to them.
Diary of Burt Post Sept. 16th.
Just heard about the forth major airline crash in just a couple of days. 23 people killed in this one somewhere in Africa. Gambia I think. The only reason I notice was that I have to fly to New York after taking the train to Chicago. I rather keep my feet on the ground thank you, but the boss says I can’t take the time to take the train all the way. I wonder what can be so urgent that you can’t take a train? Things are sure speeding up these days. Thank goodness I don’t have to fly until next week. It gives me time to break the news to Maxine.
I decided to start running for exercise and to keep in shape. People were looking at me like I was crazy so I tell them I’m training. I don’t say what for but I assume they are thinking boxing. It really helped to clear my mind. Brought back memories of running the 2 mile in college without the vomiting at the end.
We got together with the Brown Outs as usual. Once a month without fail we meet at one of the member’s houses. Last night it was the McKees. Fun, food and games is the order of the day. Maxine’s Mom baby sat. Nice having family only a few miles away. Great bunch of friends the Brown Outs. We got our name from meeting during the war. Since Wisconsin was far from the action we had brown outs instead of black outs. I suppose they’ll have to start that foolishness again even though the Soviets don’t have a navy like the Japs.
Diary of Burt Post Sept. 17th, 1946.
8
The Royal Air Force — Volume 2: An Encyclopedia of the Inter-War Years 1930-1939 By Ian Philpott