Daily Post - 10.09.1941, Blaðsíða 2

2
DAILY FOST
Ghost War From
Seven Mlles Up
..♦ '
By A Flying Fortress Bomb-Aimer
.. ,.» .
The cold’s the limit, up here in the stratosphere, with 101 degrees of frost fahrenheit a*
36,000 feet and over.
In crystal-clear daylight we are speeding towards our objective, a great city of Germany. a*
over 300 m.p.h. with a load of five to seven tons of America’s “big and beautiful” bombs. We are
flying so liigh that the enemy can neither see nor hear us. The first warning will come when our
high explosive stuff screams down.
DAILY POST
is published by
Blaðahringurinn.
Editors: S. Benediktsson.
Sgt. J. I. McGhie.
Office: 12, Austurstræti, Tel.
3715, Reykjavík. Printed by
Alþýðuprentsmiðjan.
Wednesday, Sept. 10, 1941
Another Crime
Three hundred miles south
west of Iceland, in the cold,
stormy waters of the Atlantic,
yet another Nazi crime has
been committed, and Hitler
has pushed America yet one
more step nearer to the war.
The unarmed Ex-Danish
ship “Sessa” of 1,700 tons,
American control, has been
torpedoed by a U-Boat, with a
loss of 24 crew, including one
American.
The “Sessa” * had been char-
tered by the Icelanders and
was bringing only essential
foodstuffs for the civilian po-
pulation of Iceland. Not one
round of ammunition, not one
weapon was being carried in
her.
Thus this is a double crime;
an offence against America, the
nominal owners of the vessel,
and against neutral Iceland.
Gomingf ,^o swliftly upon the
heels of the “Greer” incident,
this is bound to have a serious
effect upon, American, public
opinion, and not one which is
calculated to improve the po-
pularity of the German cause.
Spitzbergen
The forces of Iceland who
remember the early days of
the occupation here will read
with great interest of Britain’s
new victory over Nazi encircle-
ment aims. Spitzbergen, even
more remote than Iceland and
with a much harsher climate,
has now the claim of being the
most northerly outpost of
British defences.
Our troops, acting in con-
junction with Norwegians and
Canadians, have landed to safe
guard the valuable and fertile
coal fields of Spitsbergen, and
to prevent them falling into
enemy hands.
This action is yet another
proof that Britain’s policy has.
changed from one of defence
to one of attack. We are no
longer content to wait for
The summer heat-wave
sweat that beaded my face and
soaked my kit when I left the
ground is now frozen stiff. I
feel as if I’m iced all over.
Frost-bite being the high-
flyer’s worst foe, I’m in a
frost-proof suit. The gunners in
the big kite’s éxtremities,
where it’s coldest, are encased
in electrically-heated outfits.
Even so, the icy air seeps
through everything, metal and
cloth alike.
My heavily-gloved fingers
are painfully numbed as, lying
flat on my stomach on the
floor of the nose of the For-
tress, I look at the bomb-sight
they Will soon somehow have
to manipulate.
TRAINING IN OXYGEN
CHAMBER.
This rarefied atmosphere,
seven miles up, is another pro-
blem. Training in the oxygen
pressure chamber back at our
base, and the oxygen I’m now
breathing. alone make poss-
ible endurance against be
stratosphere’s effects.
I’ve a queer sort of stomach l
ache and my legs and arms
dcn’t seem to be “all there.” I
can only conquer this muscular
failing by a considerable dose
of will-power.
I’m light-headed too, as if
in the first pleasant stage of
alcoholic exhilaration. Later
on I’ll probably feel irritable,
just as some inebriates do.
Every airman has experi-
enced this “drunk” sensation
when flying even in the lower
oxygen-altitudes. Up here the
effect is magnified. We are
— ■ H
Hitler to strike, and then to
act. From now onwards we
strike first.
warned to be on our guard
against it. It tends to give ov-
er-confidence and even a loss
of the sense of' time.
But we become accustomed
to all these sensations by
ground training in the oxygen
pressure chamber in which the
stratosphere effects are repro-
AN INVISIBLE TERROR.
AN INVISIBLE TORROR.
The bolt from the blue is
now the bomb from the blue,
and the daylight sweep gains a
still grimmer reality with thq
introduction of our 22-ton
“ghost” planes.
Invisible terror stalks
Goering’s “invincible” German
skies.
Eight of us are doing the
stalking in this Fortress. The
forward gunner sits perched
high up ahead of me. The cap-
tain and his second pilot are
cabined behind me, and the
wireless operator is behind
them. Farther back are an en-
gineer and more gunners.
The boys behind the guns
have their eyes skinned the
whole time for Jerry’s state-
fighters, those Me 109 F’s and
Heinkel 113’s which are speci-
ally fitted for high-altitude
interception.
As no “ack-ack” fire can
effectively reach us, they are
are the only defenders we are
likely tó meet, and I don’t give
a damn for their chances.
Except by luck or accident,
the first they hear of us is a
whistle and an explosion. By
the time they climb to the spot
from which the stuff possibly
came we are scores of miles
away on our homeward jour-
ney. It’s our nerve-war this
time.
As I look through my ob-
servation window the highest
cirrus clouds are thousands of
feet below. The air is crystal
clear. We seem to be flyinS
through an illimitable blue of
space, tinged with violet.
Incredibly far beneath, the
markings of the countryside
are as miniature as those on a
map. I can’t distinguish indi-
vidual houses, but can clearly
see blocks of buildings and
flashes of sunlight reflected
from windows and water.
PHOTOGRAPHING THE
RESULTS.
Far in the distance there is
the shimmering loop of a river
that is the keymark indicating,
our objective.
The target comes into my
bomb-sight.
“Bomb doors open”, I shout
down the inter-com. to the-
captain. “Right .... right . . • •
left .... steady . . . .” Then a
breathless pause, as with stif-
fened fingers I release my
stuff, “Bombs gone!”
I watch the cascade of high
explosive vanish from view, as
we speed straight towards the
objective to observe the result
as closely as we can and snap
it with our camera.
It seems an interminable •
time before a rear gunner and
myself call down the inter-
com. together. “One, twor
three, four, five,” I count. —
“Plump across the target.” says
he.
Swiss buyers declare that the
quality of goods displayed in
the Autumn Leipzig fair are
greatly inferior to those dís-
played in March.
The Toc H wtill be closed from
Wednesday to Friday for pur-
poses of cleaning and alterations
to the pnemises. It wáll re-open
at 2,30 on Saturday.