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begun to fly at night. At the end of that month, the aircrew sergeants of my course moved out of Church Fenton mess, to be rehoused in an old country house known as Barkston Towers, three miles from the aerodrome. It was a marvellous old place, with ornate gardens and a splendid interior. George, our cook, was in the submarine service in the last war and vowed he would never go near an aeroplane. He was good to us though and served up colossal meals and we lived like kings to the end of the course.
    Together now with our observers, we put in a tremendous amount of both day and night flying in an effort to become an efficient team and yet again the end of the course was rushed. It was not the hard work I minded, it was more of a desire to get away from the OTU in general and the CFI [Certified Flight Instructor], Sqn Ldr Aikens, in particular. One week before the course was due to finish, on October 17, another blow fell on my small circle of friends, Sgt T.C. ‘Tosh’ Bramley was killed during an altitude test at night in Blenheim IV, V5622. He was the fourteenth casualty in three months.
    Those of us left in my group of pals said our farewells again and on 28 October 1941, almost one year after I joined up, parted company to go to our respective operational stations. Church Fenton at least had lived up to its grim reputation while I was there. Now I was off to RAF Wittering, not far from my home, for my first operational posting to No 1453 Air Target Illumination (Turbinlite) Flight.

    The emergence of the Turbinlite concept has its roots in the air situation following the Battle of Britain. Due to the – not unreasonable – previous concentration on single-seat, high-performance day-fighters, when the Luftwaffe turned to its night offensive there was no suitable specialist RAF night-fighter or control system to take them on. The few airborne radar-equipped (AI or airborne interception) Blenheims that did exist had little success, but like all such ideas, that was more a reflection of the very newness of this particular man/machine system, together with inadequate aircraft, rather than an indication of the true potential of the AI night-fighter concept itself. Lack of results diverted attention away from acceptance that the subject had simply been neglected and that it needed a focused and swift injection of resources. Critics of the system – and there was always competition for resources or competing ideas – were the catalyst for some of these alternative ideas gaining a lot more prominence than their true practicality warranted. Among the latter was the idea to mount a searchlight in the nose of an aeroplane. The RAF had acquired some Douglas Boston aircraft originally destined for the French and this was the most suitable aircraft to hand.
    To the modern eye at least, any basic description of the Turbinlite Havoc concept cannot fail to engender incredulity about its practicality. It was based around the American-designed Douglas Boston twin-engine light bomber, designated by the RAF as Havoc I, with its nose compartment removed and replaced by an enormously powerful searchlight.
    The idea was the brainchild of Wing Commander W. Helmore and the light, named Turbinlite, was built by the General Electric Company (GEC) in England and powered by forty-eight 12-volt batteries that weighed a total of about 2,000lb. These were stowed away on reinforced flooring in the bomb bay, the batteries themselves being laid out in four banks of twelve with two banks placed in each of the two halves of the bomb bay. They were charged up from an external ground-based source with special attention given to providing forced ventilation inside the aeroplane to avoid the build-up of hydrogen fumes during the charging process. A description of the Turbinlite by a former pilot, Michael Allen DFC**, will convey the sheer power of this airborne searchlight:

    Its batteries were capable of producing a current of 1,400 amps and discharging