WINGS OVER LIBYA

Press, Volume LXXVII, Issue 23477, 4 November 1941, Page 3

WINGS OVER LIBYA

NEW ZEALAND AIRMEN

IN ACTION -

SUCCESSFUL ATTACKS

(N.Z.E.F. Official News Service.)

‘ CAIRO, October fi. In Libya successful attacks were made by bombers of the Royal

Air Force. ... Terse and now happily quite commonplace, the above statement is a cheerful reminder that the Air Force is making the Cyrenaican coast very unpleasant for Germans and Italians alike. To Ifew Zealanders there is yet another interest. Almost every time a squadron or so of bombers makes those “successful attacks,” New Zealand pilots, observers or airgunners, are mixed up in it somewhere. There may. be only' two New Zealanders in a squadron; often there are as many as halLjr,dozen, as in the case of the aerodrome'* to which two certain sergeant-observers belonged. ' One of them was- from Auckland, the other from Uapiilton., In their , squadron, hidden away hear a desert escarpment, there were four others who had joined the.Royal New Zealahd Air Force, and fvere now. hammering enemy bases, supply columns, and harbours. They were just a little “browned off,” which as every soldier and airman knows, is a curt but expressive way of saying that a short change of environment would be very desirable. Enjoying an only too brief leave in Cairo, they were determined to make the most of it.

Saids on Benghazi . Those-, two young New Zealanders had been'an.'or rather over, sonle’.in-, teresting places, if one can appreciate the "interest” in several square miles of night, sky alive r with bursting shrap-r nel and tfecer bullets. Down below there might be several thousand jpeople to whom the steady roar of the British bombers is certainly a matter of considerable interest—and anxiety —as when jhe two sergeants took part in one of a series of raids on Benghazi. ; It was the fourth successive night 'that British aeroplanes had given this -important enemy coastal base a taste of the/growing striking power of the Royal Air Force. The fourth night meant a “hot party” because the enemy was; ready. After three nights’ bombing they had decided that the British might be inclined to drop in again. V .. . . The target was a supply ship bobbing jauntily in the outer harbour—at least that was the target which was the immediate concern of the two New Zealanders. The raiders had come straight across from the desert. As they swooped over the town to circle above the harbour, they ran into a hail of "flak,” “We could see the stuff bursting before, behind, and all round us—black imffs which you could see quite plainly in the moonlight,” said one of the sergeants. “The marvel is that nothing touched us.” They, Got Their Target,

They got their target. It sounds very easy, perhaps, to hear about an airman' flying over a tanker and dropping a stick of bombs amidships. Out at sea, it is certainly riot particularly difficult, although the chances arb that a stray piece of flak may make the destruction mutual. But when the target is a supply-ship or tanker riding at anchor in a protected harbour, it is an entirely different proposition. It more often than not means some fairly effective cross-fire, and’to the man in the aeroplane,, diving with a sudden, mighty roaring, swish straight between two masts, cross-fire makes a particularly unpleasant sparring partner, especially when a thousand and one searchlights seem to be pinning him to the sky. “We got out of it safely enough," said one of the New Zealanders, "and I think that, ship would not do much more sailing?’ ‘ 1 Another trip they had done was„.pyer, Derna, while not many . months ago, when Crete was in the news, they had the experience of bombing the Germans on Malemi aerodrome. “There were a hell of a lot of ‘kites’ down there,” one of them said. “It was just like a circus. Even though it. was at night we could see them plainly. There v were hundreds of them.” They went straight to work on that occasion and left a good number bf the German aeroplanes in flames. Over the Desert But it is out over the desert, wherfc the wind is rising and the sand begins to sweep in circles, that the real difficulties are met. The best thing to do on these occasions is make for the coast and then slip quietly down on the next friendly aerodrome along the coast. There are some of these friendly places where they are inclined to be suspicious of such visits: For a British aeroplane to mistake its course and' find itself over Tobruk, for example, is just asking for trouble, and the stuff they send up from Tobruk, according to one of the New Zealanders who once had the misfortune to experience it, is like a hailstorm turned upside down. Other rightfully suspicious people are the men of the Navy.' To them an aeroplane is art aeroplane and as such is, capable , of dropping bombs or doing, nasty things with machine-guns. So they take no chances, and the Air Force boys do not blame them. They just keep a respectful distance till they have fully established their bona fides. The New Zealanders consider that watching a stick of bombs drop, towards the target is really ' a queerer sensation than watching ' the: “flak” come tip towards them. One of them recalled a raid he had once been with over a desert aerodrome. The flares were glowing when they arrived and they could pick opt the aeroplanes squatting like silver flies on a burnished tray. The New Zealand observer was keeping one eye on the instruments and the other on the spot where he hoped the stick would fall.' At the right moment he pulled across the "mickey-mouse,” or hand lever which releases the bombs. The experience at that time was still novel to him, and he took more than usual interest in the missiles’ flight. "They, seemed suddenly to flatten out as they left the aeroplane,” he said. “They were travelling so slowly that they hardly seemed to move. Then you could see them gaining speed and moving forward with the ‘kite? As they reached the ground they seemed to swoop right over the target. It looked, like a bad miss, but actually they Kit the target right in the centre.” Having completed his operational training course, he was assigned to take part in two. sea sweeps, one over the Channel off the French-Belgian coast, and the other just off Denmark, Both were made in daylight, and both were .uneventful.

The other New Zealander joined the squadron when he arrived here from New Zealand. He has;been out on big-raids, not to mention innumerable patrols over desert and road. The four other New Zealanders on the station hailed from Auckland, Hawera, Thames, and Te Awamutu. Sometimes they ran into isolated-groups of New Zealand soldiers doing a specialised job out in the blue, such as at one place where a couple of engineers were operating a branch railway system, with nobody near them for miles.

. “It is good to meet some of the boys,’’ they say. .“When we are in Cairo we always drop in at the -New ■ Zealand Club, and are sure to meet somebody we know.” But they are not in Cairo too often, or anywhere else except out over the desert, quietly doing a real job of work. In the “gen” , room where all information is posted; they may find that they have something particularly tough to do before they can settle down for a night’s rest. It may be merely annoying a convoy crawling cautiously up from the enemy base; on the other hand it may be a big show, where the chances of coming back are less even than anyone would ever state. But there is a real feeling of satisfaction, they say, in being able to strike at the enemy when he least: expects it and where he feels it moat,