About 30 years ago my wife and I flew off to the Caribbean for a holiday. We were flying Economy so we were in a row of three seats aboard a Virgin Atlantic 747 Jumbo Jet. My wife was sitting in the aisle seat, I was in the middle, and to my right was a well-dressed gentleman who kept himself to himself, gazing out of the window.
After a few hours, nature called and I joined a short queue for the loo. The gentleman who had been sitting in the window seat took the opportunity to attend to his needs too. He was dressed in jacket and trousers, a carefully ironed shirt, and a tie. All in all, an unusual sight among the many holidaymakers.
As we queued, I remarked on his tie on which were aeroplanes of various types. It was the perfect icebreaker and eventually the recounted this story. He was on his way to Grenada to look in on some business interests, but it was his war story that was of the most interest.
During World War II he was a rear gunner aboard Lancaster Bombers. He flew numerous missions and each time he returned to base unscathed. However, he had always wanted to be in the opposite end of the aircraft, in the pilot’s seat. So, after the war, he realised his wish and gained a private pilots licence. He loved to fly, and his log book soon began to fill with trips across the UK and eventually across the channel.
One day, at an airfield in the Netherlands, he watched as an ag pilot practiced his approaches and climb-outs along the runway. Eventually the aircraft landed and taxied to the apron.
As our friend watched the aircraft park up and shut down, he watched in surprise as the pilot climbed out. He walked over the the pilot reporting point where our friend was standing and watching.
The ag pilot was well over six feet tall and had a gold tooth in his front teeth. The two pilots introduced themselves and began to talk about all things aviation.
It transpired that the ag pilot, a German, had been a Stuka pilot during World War II. He had flown missions over North Africa, the Western Front, and the Eastern Front, and survived them all. Like the tail-end Charile he had returned to base each time without a scratch.
The two pilots and former enemies struck up a friendship based on their mutual love of flying. For a while, they were business partners in the crop-spraying industry.
I expect our friend is long gone now, along with the German Stuka pilot. Two old enemies now flying somewhere else.
I’m glad I met him and heard his story.