A German bomber is tree hopping across the English country side. Inside are two young German airmen, specially chosen to fly a Dornier, it is one of the fastest of the German bombers. They are flying low to avoid the British Radar, and then to deliver a surprise attack. On the horizon, the pilot sees the same red sky over London, he can’t help thinking of all the terrified people there. He had been on an earlier raid, and saw how incendiary bombs, falling like leaves in Autumn, could burn anything they touched. He quickly looks away—to cast these thoughts from his mind.
The Dornier, ‘Flying pencil’ was the perfect aircraft for this sort of mission, its slim fuselage making it hard for anti-aircraft shells to hit. Three bombers had left France, with the same intention, they separated over the English coast, a lone plane is hard to see at night.
For maximum speed they are carrying just two high explosive bombs, they also need to be accurate. They are both leaning forward in the cock-pit, straining their eyes to see through the low clouds. They are looking for railway lines.
The fires raging in the distance make it hard for them to see anything on the ground. The pilot flies as low as he dares, over some tall trees, and there beneath them he sees the rails, bright and shiny and just like a target waiting to be hit. He follows the railway until it passes through rows of houses, then he releases his bombs—a railway station and ordinary houses, a perfect target.