Evening star., 1940-12-03
Nv RALPH INGERSOLL.

BY RALPH INGERSOLL.
The front line of the war in the
air is an airport from which a
fighter squadron takes off. I have
been to half a dozen of them. They
are like the airports we know at
home only in that somewhere about
there are fiat fields or level runways
from which the planes take of. In
every other respect they are quite
different. In the first place there
are no hangers. Or If there are
hangers they are empty. There are
no control towers or machine shops
visible. Nor as you come upon them
are there any planes.
We reached the first over a rutted
country road. A sentry stopped us
at a barbed-wire and sandbagged
barricade. 1 was with my friend,
who is wing commander in the
r. A. F. His job is in the coastal
command and this was fighter
station. He had passes, showed
them and we went on. We passed
some camouf1aged shacks that
seemed deserted. A soldier in fati-
que uniform passed. We asked for
the officers mess or the adjutant'S.
He said if We went around beyond
the shed we would see another shed
in a hollow and the mess was In
there.
We found the wing commander OF
the station in neat little Office be-
hind tidy desk. was introduced.
We shook hands and sat talking
few minutes. He had two squadrons
up. He looked at his watch.
Squadrons Halfway Up.
zone will be back in about 20
minutes. Nothing much going on"
he said. 1--WE put couple of squad
rons half way up and let them cruise
slowly to save fuei. They can stay
up quite a long time that way and
If anything happens they can get
on up quickly"
The other squadron were on the
ground. I asked if I could walk
around. He said:
GO on out. If you don't mind
I have some reports to finish. I will
pick you up and we will have
lunch"
MY friend, Wing Comdr Gerald
Maxwell, and I walked out and over
a rise in the ground and along one
side of what was obviously runway.
Not far beyond we came to the first
plane suddenly. Its home was
sunken pit not much wider than its
wings, sandbagged up on three sides
6 or 8 feet high. In the center OF
the embankment that surrounded
the plane a door opened down into
q dug out.
Gerald said the crew ducked down
there when there was a raid. Sew
eral mechanics in coveralls were do
ing things to the plane. After the
clippers and big flying boats and
bombers I had seen, it was minute.
Stand at one wing tip, take a few
steps and you bump the tuselage
The single wing is below and set
well back toward the middle of the
plane. The narrow motor seems to
lean forward, away from the cock
pit. It's three-blade metal propeller
looks enormous. The pilot sits with
a glass roof over him and the line
of the plane from the back OF his
neck to the tail is straight and fiat.
No Signs of Guns.
There were no signs OF guns on
this Spitfire and I asked about
that. Gerald took me to the lead
ing edge of the wings and showed
me strips of fabric three or four
feet long, pasted along each.
THE guns are in there" he said.
"You can never see them except
Just after they are fired. They paste
the openings over to cut down wind
resistance. The guns blow the fabric
off when they are fired. There are
four on each side. The Hurricane
is a better gun platform than the
Spitfre. These guns are set wider
apart and they are more apt to
move with the wing. You will see
that the Hurricanes guns are tight
together"
There was no other sign of life
than the three mechanics. We
walked on down the edge of the field.
Again tucked away out of sight we
came upon another plane bay. In
this one q house seemed to have
been built around the Spitfires nose.
Gerald said they were taking the
motor apart inside it and that that
kept the servicing operation dry and
warm. We walked past half a dozen
other planes. each in its own bav.
some apparently ready, some par
TALLY dismantled.
Suddenly the air above us began
to hum. I had been in England long