The entry from the Pilot’s Flying Log Book of Flight Lieutenant W C Henderson (of 464 Squadron RAAF) for the above date, under the section Duty (Including Results and Remarks), reads:
DAY OPS – GESTAPO HDQ AT AARHUSPA – DENMARK – REFUELLED AT SWANTON MORLEY BEFORE & AFTER. LIGHT & MEDIUM FLAK D.C.O.
That doesn’t really tell the whole story.
From New Zealanders with the Royal Air Force- Forward to the Rhine (Chapter 12):
News had been received in London that the Resistance Movement in Jutland was seriously threatened by the activities of the Gestapo and the destruction of enemy records housed in two college buildings of Aarhus University was essential if the movement was to continue its work. Twenty-five Mosquitos from No. 140 Wing, No. 2 Group, including nine from No. 487 Squadron, were selected for this difficult task, which involved a round trip of 1235 miles, more than half of it over the sea. Escorted by eight Mustangs of No. 12 Group, they set course for Denmark on the morning of 31 October. Squadron Leader Denton, Flight Lieutenants Thorpe, Kemp, and Anderson1 each piloted Mosquitos of the New Zealand squadron and Flying Officer Coe2 flew as navigator; Flight Lieutenant Henderson3 and Warrant Officer Hawke4 formed a crew with No. 464 Australian Squadron and Flight Sergeant Morrison5 navigated another aircraft from this unit. A two-hour flight across the North Sea brought the force to Aarhus shortly before noon, and as they swept in at tree-top height crews found the area covered by low cloud. Visibility was so poor that many lights were on in the town. The attack achieved complete surprise and it was some time before anti-aircraft guns in the harbour area burst into life. In eleven minutes the two buildings were destroyed, along with the Gestapo records. Nearby barracks were also hit and more than one hundred Germans were reported killed, among them the Gestapo chief of Jutland. This brilliant operation was completed for the loss of one Mosquito from No. 487 Squadron; damaged by bomb bursts, this aircraft force-landed in Sweden but the crew were later flown back to England. Several other aircraft were damaged by flak, and Denton went in so low that his machine hit one of the buildings and lost its tail wheel and the port half of the tail plane. Nevertheless, he flew back and landed safely.
[Flight Lieutenant Henderson was awarded a DFC (with the investiture at Buckingham Palace in May 1945) and was also presented with a pair of cufflinks from a representative of the Danish Resistance for his part in this raid.]
Distinguished Flying Cross (dated 1944).
Dearest @thetearooms,
Quite some time ago, following a discussion on Chinese food, I aired my theory on the force that drives us. It would have been much easier if you had just paid attention then, but I have now come to realise that that is not your way. At the time the conversation went something like this: “We are just hairy bags of salty soup hardwired to reproduce our DNA.” Meredith ( bluntly). Erik (snippily): ” Oh no. I refuse to accept that we are just bags of offal. I’m not just governed by my knobbing hormones. It’s all about angst and worry and wonder. *” Meredith (with astounding wit): “Your mitochondria wouldn’t agree.”
Some might say that I’m a touch too reductionist. My response to that is simply that we have to protect ourselves with layers of delusion and conceit and don’t care to have our follies examined.
Anyway, I can’t really be bothered to go over all the aspects of sociobiology, evolutionary biology and psychology, or the works of Darwin and Dawkins and Dennett and of E O Wilson that have informed me. (Throw Cordelia Fine into that mix, and also Sigmund Freud).
I appreciate that it sounds a bit bleak (the truth CAN be a little unpalatable at times), though personally I’m all for austere nihilism.
All ideas in literature can be explained by this. I think literary types are particularly susceptible to mitochondrial influence for a variety of reasons.
Now that all makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?
Thought so.
Yours etc,
@bckmph
*and delight. [This suggestion from @thetearooms himself.]
|
A WOMAN’S POEM: A MAN’S POEM: I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with big tits who owns a bar on a golf course, and loves to send me fishing and drinking. This doesn’t rhyme and I don’t give a shit.
|
WRITE IT DOWN, SCHOOLMASTER
William: “Write it down, Schoolmaster. Monday shall be Copper Day; Tuesday, Potato Day; Wednesday, Leather Day; Thursday, Gold Day; Friday, Rubber Day; Saturday, no Dinner Day, and Sunday, Hate Day!”
One of the odder things I’ve come across recently. I have no idea what it really means. ( from Raemakers’ Cartoon History of the War, Volume 1)
Re: Yesterday’s Posterous.
‘Existence is elsewhere’ is a quote from Andre Breton. (Of course you knew that.)
‘Getting a life’, or, more precisely, to ‘get a life’ is an expression used by the obnoxious. I never say it myself, and avoid those who do.
The quote from ‘Casablanca’ that I referred to wasn’t “Play it (again*), Sam’ but another, one of my favourites: ‘It’s still the same old story.’
*That’s not in the movie.
I thought of a really good title for a blog. [See above]. However, I don’t quite know what to do with it. One day, I suppose, the variant of l’esprit d’escalier that governs my thought processes will generate something quite astonishing. Or maybe not. That is very much the story of my days.
But seeing I’m here I thought I might mention how things are here after 1,820 earthquakes in five weeks, and some other minor domestic matters. I’ve grown accustomed to earthquakes. I have no idea now where the torch is, I’ve unpacked my emergency bag and I’ve put some (not all) of my bits and pieces back on walls and tables, where they belong. It does still startle me, though, to drive around Christchurch and see empty sections where damaged buildings have been bulldozed. I can’t always remember what was there, either. The sight of a stress fracture in a building is an interesting one. It pays to stay clear. Lots of building have buttresses to keep them in one piece, or are surrounded by scaffolding or fences. The red, green, and yellow stickers are still much in evidence on the doors of many buildings, proclaiming their suitability for use.
I’ve just had two weeks of holidays in which I did very little. I’ve never been convinced that constant activity was worthwhile. It was a bit dull in patches with Cinders away on her trip. She, of course, had a wonderful time. She came home to face a barrage of tests, and has to learn 600 lines of Virgil before the week is out. Exams are looming, again. This will be the eighth year in a row that I’ve gone through the NCEA saga, and it won’t be over after this round, either. It’s a bit like that line in Casablanca.
LATEST ADDITION TO MINISTRY STAFF: “What’s the tea-time here?”
CICERONE: “Usual–three to five-thirty.”
THE REWARD OF (DE)MERIT
King Punch presenteth Prussia with the Order of “St. Gibbet.”
(May 7, 1864)
( re The Prussian treatment of Denmark)
![Where to Live—[ADVT.]](https://i0.wp.com/www.gutenberg.org/files/25951/25951-h/images/illus009.jpg "Where to Live—[ADVT.]")
—Particulars of the late Tenant, Room 6, Base Hospital, Bonlog c
Our Adaptable Armies.
gryphonelle 