Interesting piece. And so typically matter of fact about events that we today would label ‘stressful’ or ‘traumatic’. Thank the lord for his generation!
By Jiminy – he hasn’t changed much in seventy odd years has he?

Can’t see the picture/s as I use one of those tablet thingies and either it don’t like the images or, (more than likely), I don’t know what I am doing; still, nice to know that a type for which I have always had a sneaky liking is being remembered. I have to say my admiration for the (very) young men who were expected to fight in it knows no bounds.
Question: where or how did the navigator operate? I know the usual crew was three and that that worthy was somehow closeted in the fuselage interior between gunner and pilot but I never have been able to arrive at a clear understanding of his exact station. There was a bomb aiming window in the belly for his convenience (!), but where did he sit and how did he get there?

It’s true that this was one of the events that precipitated the U.S entry into the war, but Congress did not actually vote to declare war until April 6 1917

Thanks. Light dawns!

They really do have to know their stuff, these submariners. One false move with all those valves and it was straight to the bottom. A high proportion of submarine accidents are down to mishandling those controls.
Don’t mind flying, or a ship. But forget underneath!

Just for the record, can’t see it either. Sounds like an achievement though. Well done to them!

If I had to make a call, I’d agree that it’s a Wimpey. Thought Halifax for an instant but it sits too low I think for that. And the ribbing on the fuselage looks Wellington- ish. Also I would have supposed that if ’twere a Halifax we would see the windows below the cockpit. As always though, am happy to be corrected. It’s a tantalising picture!

Absolutely agree, Charlie.
My (limited) experience of modern law enforcement extends no further than a near relative who wears the uniform of Her Majesty’s Constabulary and seems to think his job is sit at a computer and use the phone to order the bacon sarnies.
A bitter viewpoint perhaps; he undoubtedly gets to face up to the rowdies on a Saturday night, but over time it’s become evident that policing really isn’t what it used to be. It sometimes seems that the only crimes that get properly investigated are the really high profile ones and even then the police have a remarkably selective process for choosing which ones to throw resources at.
No answers, I’m afraid, just resigned weariness.