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Every year my
ex squadron, 627, meet
at an hotel near our old airfield where the organiser lays on a
programme of visits to places of interest. On one such occasion we
visited the RAF workshops overhauling jet engines. During the visit we
learned that the workshops are guarded at night by the RAF Regiment.
Now these
Regiment boys are young 20
year olds with no knowledge of or contact with us white haired old
codgers. We learnt that the Regiment lads were frequently scared during
their nightly patrols of the workshops by an apparition. The thing had
no legs but was wearing flying kit, scaring the living daylights out of
the beholder. But in conversation with some of these lads they were
able to give a sufficiently detailed description of the apparition that
it was quickly recognised by some of the members of 627 Squadron in
Retirement; they were able to put a name to the apparition as a pilot
of a Mosquito that had crashed on returning from a raid. “That is old
Bill” . . . . cried many voices.
A little
later the station padre exorcised the ghostly figure of the 627
Squadron pilot. There has been no trouble since.
So we do not
know everything, do we?
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