Bombers

I'm backblipping this on Remembrance Sunday, thinking of my grandparents and their generation during World War II. My Grandad was a rear gunner in the bubble at the back of an Avro Lancaster Bomber. On 24 August, Fred and I took the train to Surrey and cycled to Dunsfold where the last flying Canadian and RAF Lancasters were due to fly at some point in the afternoon. We saw groups of people setting up in the fields around the aerodrome. We hadn't thought to bring a picnic, but we realised that we wouldn't starve - there were hundreds of brambles. Fred set off to gather them in our empty thermos flask. What a star!

I wasn't sure how I'd identify the Lancasters. Formations of planes began to fly overhead and I squinted into the sun to see if any had bubbles on the top and back. No joy. Then there was an almighty rumble... the Lancasters. I've never heard such a sound. It put shivers down my back. Imagine the noise of hundreds of them flying overhead - salvation to some; death to others. It was ominous. They were huge, too, yet elegant. I didn't capture them well - too busy soaking in the sights and sounds them with my senses rather than with my camera. I'm very happy to have seen these historic craft in action. My Grandad was a brave soul and a lucky survivor.

Another pic here: two or one?