“Sir. They Hit the Wrong Town”

“Sir. They Hit the Wrong Town”
Ruth was concerned. Spitfire recon photos were the problem. Not the quality but something else. The target, it was wrong. Its street plan was different. Buildings, or what were once buildings, were different. What was wrong? Ruth thought. Do what thy will be the whole of the law. Do it right or it’s a cock up! What have our boys done?

She called her superior officer over. Quietly Ruth raised her concern and he looked closely through the stereoscopic eye glass at the post bombing pic.

“Strewth! You’re right. A right cock up. They hit the wrong bloody town. It’s not Munich. This is bad.

Ruth glanced up with wide intelligent questioning eyes. She looked very pretty in her WAAF uniform, with hair tied back and young features.

“As you sow, so shall you reap,” muttered her officer. Did it matter where the enemy was hit? As long as we bombed them. Our revenge for Coventry, London and a score more. Our Lancasters were pulverizing Germany. Bomber Harris had unleashed his whirlwind, silencing the Luftwaffe’s wind with extreme violence.

An urgent investigation needed to be carried out. It was the wrong target. A new raid would be needed...


◄ Goth Fall

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