B O M B A L L E Y
Looking through the Bridge windows it is a glorious sunny afternoon in the calm blue
waters of San Carlos Harbour. Outside on the Bridge wings, chatting away but watchful, the
Gunners and Marines, armed with rifles and machine guns look like a team out for a day's
rough shooting.
Suddenly, out of a valley in the hillside a mile or so away across the smooth water, three
Mirage aircraft appear and head straight towards us. The shout goes up,
"Aircraft!" A line of tracer from the 40/60 Bo f ors gun shoots out towards one
of the three although nothing will stop them. A line of water spouts race along the water
from the aircraft, then there is a "Clang, clang, clang!" as their cannon shells
hit the side of the ship. Now the three are close enough for the machine gunners and
riflemen to engage. They bravely line up and open fire, "Pop, pop pop!" like a
motor bike with no exhaust.
The three aircraft get nearer and nearer and nearer. Now they are only a few hundred yards
away: two bombs drop away from one and look as though they will smash straight through the
windows. "Whoosh!" the aircraft disappear overhead, and then "Bang, bang,
bang!" as the 40/60 on the other side of the ship opens fire. The rough shooters run
around the front of the bridge and start shooting again at the escaping aircraft.
Left
in the air, getting closer, are the two bombs.
They are dark green - shaped like giant Walls sausages with a spike in the end. They make
little noise. One falls short: the other disappears from sight above the bridge roof .....
will it hit ..... or won't it ...... it doesn't' t ....... it splashes into the water, and a
big plume of water shoots up as it explodes.
Bomb Alley ........ here were are.