Jul 24
F/Lt Cwynar recalls: When flying the Mustang P51-B with 315 Polish Squadron out of Brenzett Advance Landing Ground, our operational objective was twofold, long range bomber escorts and, from dawn to dusk, anti-diver patrols; in sections or two a/c or singly, intercepting V-1 Flying Bombs.
Our operational perimeter, shared with other fighter squadrons, covered to Dover-Folkestone-Rye coastal line, right up to London’s balloon barrage.
V-1 Flying Bombs, nicknamed Doodlebugs or Buzz Bombs, were launched from the area south of Calais towards London during daytime. But to extend the terror, on the odd night at irregular times the Germans would send a few over. In the, which our CO, "Dziobek" Horbaczewski, and I shared, we often heard V-1s flying overhead. This made us decide to try out a night patrol. We chose a clear, moonless night, thinking it would be easier to detect the Doodlebug’s orange-red colored exhaust flames. We asked our resourceful chief mechanic to prepare the runway’s flight path. He had a simple, basic idea of placing a dozen oil-lit lamps in a straight line, along the left side of the Summerfield mesh runway.
In the darkness, without the a/c’s positional lights, Horbaczewski got airborne for an approximate two hours long patrol. After his safe landing, I took off to continue the night patrol. We did not intercept any Flying Bombs that night.
Next day, the airfield commander was not pleased. Horbaczewski had not asked permission so that was the end of the night flights.
Our successes in shooting down V-1s were modest when it came to comparison with a Tempest squadron stationed nearby. They were not so maneuverable as Mustangs but faster at ground level speed.
To improve the Mustang’s ground speed, the Merlin engines were given more supercharge, from a maximum 141 lbs to 241 lbs. The pilots did not like it. At full throttle we could hear an awful thumping, the connecting rods knocked the pistons without mercy. With knowledge that one day we might be chasing Buzz Bombs and the next escorting bombers to Norway, we were not keen on "hammering" our engines.
Our HQ engineers kept telling us not to worry about the engine… it could be replaced, as long as we continue shooting down Flying Bombs. That was true. But, we thought to ourselves, has it occurred to those well-briefed engineers that if the engine packs up when we are flying over a large stretch of water, replacement will hardly be necessary.
There was a more sensible way of obtaining that extra speed needed to catch Flying Bombs. Knowing at what heights Doodlebugs went jerking through the air, we patrolled about 1,000’ above their flight paths. By diving down on them, we had that extra speed needed to catch up.
At dawn on the 24^th of July we were airborne for an anti-diver patrol. Before we attained sufficient height, we noticed the mushroom shaped explosions of an AAA barrage over the Folkestone area. The guns were firing at the first series if the morning’s Flying Bombs. Not having sufficient height I started to chase one. I was gaining on it but only slowly. I had to give the engine to a point 50 yards astern. When at a proper distance, short bursts of fire were sufficient to damage the V-1'’ vital component -–the gyroscope.
Once this part was shot up, the craft veered violently, usually to the left, and dived to the ground.
To give the engine a rest, I throttled back, did a leisurely left turn and observed the impact on the ground. It exploded in what looked like, in the morning mist, an orchard of young trees. I turned to a southeast direction and pushed the throttle to increase speed but there was no response! The propeller was idling, driven only by the air speed. At 2,000 feet I had to look for a suitable landing place, a field where, if the worst come to the worst, I could land with the undercarriage in the "up" position.
Luckily, through the morning mist, I spotted a hangar and that could only mean a permanent airfield. In fact there were three hangars to the northwest at "Wet Malling", a Battle of Britain Air Force base. With the hydraulics working, the undercarriage and flaps down, I landed, stopping in the middle of the airfield. Old memories came flooding back of the days when I was learning to fly and was pleased when I achieved a neat three point landing on lush, green grass.
I telephoned Brenzett from the flying control tower. S/Ldr Horbaczewski came over in a jeep, his favorite toy, and brought our chief mechanic, Korczowski. In no time he found that the throttle linkage had jammed somewhere between the pilot’s left hand side in the cabin and the engine connection. I was soon on my way back to Brenzett.

Mustang III / FZ-154. Flying this a/c, on June 22, 1944, F/Lt Cwynar destroyed two V-1s. Both shared with another pilot. PK-N was of the very few Mustangs featuring American canopy. All the others P-51s flown by 315 Squadron were equipped with Malcolm hood. Courtesy of Robert Gretzyngier.

The same aircraft at Brenzett, with what look like a dust cloud in a background. (Steve Brooking)

Brenzett Airfield. July 1944. F/Sgt Bedkowski(?) in readiness for a Diver patrol.