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Scholastic Canada Ltd.
ISBN 0-439-93881-3 PBK
144 pages
Ages 9 to 12
5” x 7”

by Chris Priestley

Harry joins the RAF to protect his country, only to be called a coward by those who don’t understand the battles raging in the air above. The skies are alive with danger, and each time Harry goes up, he wonders if he’ll ever make it home.


	My Story: Battle of Britain


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Spread from MY STORY: BATTLE OF BRITAIN
by Chris Priestley

June 1940

On 1 June, we woke before first light. The ground crew already had the engines going on our Spits. I could see the blue glow of the exhaust flames glimmering from the familiar silhouettes. I shivered and flapped my arms up and down to get my circulation going.

My cup of tea was already cold and I tossed it on to the grass. A greasy rainbow shimmered in an oily puddle at my feet. I yawned so hard I almost dislocated my jaw.

“Get a move on, Woods,” said my squadron leader.

I jogged over to my aircraft and hauled myself up on to the wing. I patted her and whispered to her and climbed into the cockpit. I checked my instruments, checked my R/T and oxygen. Everything OK. I looked around. Everyone was ready. I gave a thumbs-up to the crewman, who pulled out the chocks. We were off.

I pushed the throttle right forward, I kept the stick nice and central and eased her off the ground. Throttle back and there was the double thud of the wheels pulling up and tucking themselves in. Airborne.

The scene was amazing now. The Channel was flecked with all kinds of vessels — ordinary people bravely answering the call to come to the rescue of those stranded soldiers. As well as Royal Navy ships, there were now fishing boats and tugboats, yachts, pleasure steamers and Thames barges. It was an incredible sight.

I was over the Dunkirk beaches at 5:00 a.m. We patrolled in formation, heading east along the coast towards the new day rising. A few thousand feet below us the beach looked almost purple in that strange light and a mother-of-pearl sheen polished the sea.

Men and boats still crowded the scene, shadowy figures moved about in the sand and along the shore. Vessels of all shapes and sizes sat offshore, waiting for the Stukas to arrive. There was a click on the R/T and then my squadron leader’s voice:

“Bandits dead ahead.” Sure enough, there were a dozen Me110s heading away from us. “Tally ho!”

Then it was every man for himself. The Germans saw us and scattered and we scattered with them. It was all nerve now, all reflexes and adrenaline. The world speeded up and you had to go with it, like some crazy merry-go-round.

I span out of formation. There were Me109s above us, but I ignored them as much as I could. I took after a 110 that had banked off to my starboard. It disappeared into a cloud, but I kept right after it. I wasn’t going to be shaken off so easily. When the cloud broke again there it was.

I steered her into my gun sights and thumbed the firing button. Tracer shot out from my guns and headed off toward the German. At first nothing happened, but then smoke began to snake out from his port engine. I came in closer.

I fired off another blast and peeled away. A whole chunk of the cockpit canopy flew off and very neatly smacked straight into me. The Messerschmitt seemed to hang in the air for a second — then it exploded and broke into pieces. There was no chance for anyone to bale out. I saw it go down, down, down and smash into the sea.

From My Story: Battle of Britain. Copyright © 2005 by Chris Priestley. All rights reserved.

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"This book was so cool. I felt I was in the cockpit just like Harry Woods. The end was sad though." Sergei B., Age 11, Rating: 10

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