Our orders were clear: firebomb Dresden. My new British co-pilot had aborted two earlier missions; his formation buddies were shot to shit. Three of sixteen birds returned.The Germans were coming out too early; uncannily knowing where to intercept us.Taking off I said “forget the flight plan; different route.”“You can’t!”“Squadron commander; yes I can.”“But the intelligence and planning, surely this is cavalier and unwarranted risk!”“Scared?”“Oh really!”During the flight, he repeatedly tried to cajole me onto the original flight plan.
“Tell me Major Albright, seen the Church on Covington Cross hill?
“Oh heavens yes, parents took me as a lad; idyllic countryside.”“Really?"
" Oh yes, picnics, nice church; brilliant!”
Major, there are TWO unforgettable Churches on that hill.”
I pointed my .45.
“Double crosses.”He stiffened. “I beg your pardon colonel?”“Two churches at Covington Cross. I hate double crosses.”BAM!