ALTHOUGH I had never believed in premonitions, occasionally I’d come across those who did. Sometimes, for instance, when an aircraft failed to return from a bombing raid, you’d hear someone say about a friend of his who was in the plane that he’d been “green about the gills” before they set off, meaning that he seemed to be anticipating something disastrous.

I always took it with a pinch of salt, thinking that this had probably been little more than the usual anxiety or tension which we all felt before an operational trip, although this time a bit more evident than usual.

I was, however, to change my mind.

It was at the time of the thousand-bomber raids against Germany in the summer of 1942. I’d finished my first tour of operations and was on ‘rest’ – so-called! – instructing in gunnery at 25 Operational Training Unit. A number of other air gunners were also doing the same when in May 1942 the thousand-bomber raid plan was introduced. To marshal that many bombers and their crews was a mammoth task and meant enlisting any and all they could possibly find. That included those of us supposedly on rest. Our OTU was flying Wellingtons, and we gunnery instructors were brought in to fly as rear gunners on these raids.

I think it was about the third raid that we were to go on. There was nothing extra hazardous about it as far as we knew, but one of our fellow instructors was obviously extremely anxious about it. He hung around with me for most of the day before we were due to take off. I can’t remember now quite what we talked about, but it was obvious to me that he was under very considerable stress, and from what came to light later he and I must have discussed whether he would return safely. He was doubtful whether he would. I couldn’t understand why, and no doubt I tried to reassure him that there were no special reasons for thinking that he would not. I don’t think I helped him very much, and quite dearly did not quieten his mind. He must have taken off in considerable agony.

Well, his plane didn’t return, and no-one knew immediately what had happened to the crew. Had they all been killed, or…? Later, however, I received a card from him from a prisoner of war camp. On it he said: “Do you believe in premonitions now? I thought of that when I was dangling at the end of a parachute at 2. 30 in the morning!”

I greatly regret that I didn’t keep the card – it would have been an interesting piece of memorabilia.

I regret too that I can’t even remember his name, and have had no contact with him since the war.

More evidence that he felt a sense of impending disaster is that on the name-board in our office, against his own name he had written before he left the word ‘deceased’. Fortunately this was an inaccurate forecast, but an indication of how strongly he felt. Also in the waste paper basket was a cheque made out to him for £25 which he’d torn up for some reason.

The effect that unusual experience had on me was that I do now believe that at times people have premonitions, although I haven’t a clue how they come about.

Fred Bacon