Flying Officer Kyte
08-22-2013, 09:00
Whispering death.
It was a sultry afternoon in the Kentish hop fields as the groups of pickers looked up at the sound of Aero engines. The more knowledgeable members amongst them recognised the aircraft for a Bristol Beaufighter, not simply by its silhouette, but because of the muted sound of its engines as it passed overhead in the cloudless sky.
The pickers had just decided that it was indeed “one of ours” and had recommenced their tasks, when an altogether different sound assailed their well attuned ears.
That was the drone of a Hun marauder for certain, the wavering sound of its engines being so distinctly different from that of the British machine.
As they once more turned their gaze upon the skies, an epic encounter was about to unfold above them.
The Beaufighter pilot obviously oblivious to the danger bearing down upon him continued to wend his way West, until the rattle of machinegun and cannon fire alerted him to the deadly Me 110 diving from above.
105053
A nasty jolt to his right arm as a bullet grazed the radius soon brought him to his senses, and like lightening he threw his machine into an Immelmann turn, and repeating the manoeuvre, came right back at the German pilot who had just commenced to turn after him.
105049
This time the jack boot was on the other foot, and the onlookers on the ground got a grandstand view of what they had expected to be a tragedy turned upon its head in a matter of seconds.
The Beaufighter, catching the Me 110 crossing its bows, opened up with everything it had, damaging its tail in a withering fire.
105050
As it closed to short range, the damage got worse, as cannon fire added its weight to the fast disintegrating rear of the German machine.
105051
Shaken by the fusillade of fire power the return fire from the Me’s rear gunner was ineffectual to say the least.
Banking lazily behind the wounded aircraft the Bristol pilot delivered the coup de Grasse to the stricken bird.
More tail damage rendered the aircraft unmanageable and with oily smoke billowing from its port engine, two parachutes blossomed in the blue.
The aircraft, performed a gentle side slip, and then in an increasingly steep dive buried itself, where many more of its kind were destined to lie, in the Hop Fields of Kent.
105052
After a muted cheer, the hop pickers grabbed any farm implement to hand, and set out across the field to where it looked as if the German parachutes would finally descend.
As he nursed his aching arm, and headed back toward his Aerodrome, young Flt Lt. John Perry reflected on what his father, Wing Commander John Perry would have to say about his sons first kill in his Whispering Death.
This little scenario is dedicated to the memory of Flying Officer John Perry. (Beaufighter pilot) who was my Dad's best friend and also the Best Man at his wedding.
105054
You will hear more of his exploits anon.
Rob.
It was a sultry afternoon in the Kentish hop fields as the groups of pickers looked up at the sound of Aero engines. The more knowledgeable members amongst them recognised the aircraft for a Bristol Beaufighter, not simply by its silhouette, but because of the muted sound of its engines as it passed overhead in the cloudless sky.
The pickers had just decided that it was indeed “one of ours” and had recommenced their tasks, when an altogether different sound assailed their well attuned ears.
That was the drone of a Hun marauder for certain, the wavering sound of its engines being so distinctly different from that of the British machine.
As they once more turned their gaze upon the skies, an epic encounter was about to unfold above them.
The Beaufighter pilot obviously oblivious to the danger bearing down upon him continued to wend his way West, until the rattle of machinegun and cannon fire alerted him to the deadly Me 110 diving from above.
105053
A nasty jolt to his right arm as a bullet grazed the radius soon brought him to his senses, and like lightening he threw his machine into an Immelmann turn, and repeating the manoeuvre, came right back at the German pilot who had just commenced to turn after him.
105049
This time the jack boot was on the other foot, and the onlookers on the ground got a grandstand view of what they had expected to be a tragedy turned upon its head in a matter of seconds.
The Beaufighter, catching the Me 110 crossing its bows, opened up with everything it had, damaging its tail in a withering fire.
105050
As it closed to short range, the damage got worse, as cannon fire added its weight to the fast disintegrating rear of the German machine.
105051
Shaken by the fusillade of fire power the return fire from the Me’s rear gunner was ineffectual to say the least.
Banking lazily behind the wounded aircraft the Bristol pilot delivered the coup de Grasse to the stricken bird.
More tail damage rendered the aircraft unmanageable and with oily smoke billowing from its port engine, two parachutes blossomed in the blue.
The aircraft, performed a gentle side slip, and then in an increasingly steep dive buried itself, where many more of its kind were destined to lie, in the Hop Fields of Kent.
105052
After a muted cheer, the hop pickers grabbed any farm implement to hand, and set out across the field to where it looked as if the German parachutes would finally descend.
As he nursed his aching arm, and headed back toward his Aerodrome, young Flt Lt. John Perry reflected on what his father, Wing Commander John Perry would have to say about his sons first kill in his Whispering Death.
This little scenario is dedicated to the memory of Flying Officer John Perry. (Beaufighter pilot) who was my Dad's best friend and also the Best Man at his wedding.
105054
You will hear more of his exploits anon.
Rob.