By Christobel Mattingley
The riveting actual tale account of a tender WW2 pilot's heroic trip, illustrated all through with attention-grabbing pictures, maps and excerpts from his log books.
'Bomb doorways open!'
It was once the decision that haunted airmen's dreams.
This is the tale of a regular younger Australian whose ambition to fly took him midway around the globe in the course of global battle II - and the fateful undertaking while his aircraft used to be hit 3 times.
'Battle Order 204 is ready the standard of courage...Christobel Mattingley has written this booklet with compassion and perception, its presentation is gripping and moving.' Max Fatchen AM
'Brilliant...At as soon as uplifting but thought-provoking; enlightening but, of necessity, unhappy. there's a commendable stability of challenging truth and human emotion parts, and that i came across it nearly most unlikely to place down.' Mike Garbett, writer of The Lancaster at War
Read or Download Battle Order 204. A Bomber Pilot's Story PDF
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Extra info for Battle Order 204. A Bomber Pilot's Story
He enjoyed following the tops of cumulus cloud banks, though on one occasion he was startled to find another Oxford doing the same thing, a bit too close for safety. Formation flying was the next challenge. It required intense concentration and kept the adrenalin flowing. Stringent revision flights in late March preceded a major test, which examined general proficiency before a pilot was awarded his Wings. An exercise in naval cooperation tested the nerves when David was required to fly his Oxford over Flinders Naval Base as a practice target for ground-based gun crews.
It was mid-January. There was no shade or shelter for the young airmen, and the planes, made of wood and plywood, sat out in the sun all day, and were blisteringly hot when on the ground. They were Oxfords, twin-engined monoplanes, more than twice the size of the single-engined biplane Tiger Moths. The landscape, too, was very different. After Tasmania’s spring and early summer verdure, rivers and purple mountains, the expanse of sunburnt brown paddocks shimmering in the heat, windswept and treeless, was a shock and the glare was much harder on the eyes.
Winter Saturdays were different. On wild wet days, or when fog seeped up from the river, or dark clouds shrouded the Western Tiers, he stayed home, disappointed but determined, plugging away at the maths he would need if he was ever to become a pilot. ’ Whistling, he would pedal uphill out of town. When he reached the flat road that led to the Western Junction airfield, speeding by the clipped hawthorn hedges still speckled with red berries, he laughed as he felt the wind rushing through his hair.