mind the higher scoring pilots were favoured with more flag sorties; this to the detriment of newer pilots who, like myself, would have benefited from as much live-firing practice as we could get so as to improve our techniques. To have a few high scorers on a Squadron while the rest of its pilots were out of favour in the light of competitive shooting is, when translated into a real battle situation, to have two or three aces and a number of other pilots who, through biased training (e.g. like this situation at Sylt) are not to the standard required of them. I was aware of this, didn't like it, but could do nothing about it in the prevailing circumstances. I wanted more tuition and practice but was denied it. I flew again twice on the 24th. The first sortie was aborted because the tug pilot didn't show up on the range, and on the second I scored a miserable 3%. This, though, should be put into context. When doing gunnery practice such as this only two of the available four 20mm cannon are being fired. One can assume therefore that with four guns firing there would logically be twice the number of hits. I, for one, would not be at all keen to be flying an aircraft which was receiving even a small number of hits from explosive 20mm cannon shells. Add to this that all our flag attacks were quarter (ie: curving) attacks which had to be broken off early for fear of shooting down the tug aircraft when many combat attacks are made during tail chases wherein the target presents a more relatively stable aiming point. Many of our practice sorties were practice tail chases with this objective in mind (as well as that of learning to evade potential stern attacks on oneself). The flag, too, presents a smaller target than almost all potential target aircraft. Logically therefore, even a low score on the flag can be translated into an extremely damaging attack on an enemy aircraft. It is opportune also to mention at this juncture that, with constant practice in keeping alert and a good look out, both in tail chases, and when flying non-flag sorties, I could, with shoulders held back firmly by my seat straps, swivel my head right round so as to be able to see, from either direction not only the tail fin on the the side I was looking but, with peripheral vision, just see the other one as well. I thus had all round horizontal vision. Vertical vision was only restricted by the distance I could tilt my head back until movement was limited by the armour plate at the rear of my seat. Back to flying: the following day I scored 4% and 11% on two live-firing sorties. These were separated by cross-countries to Jever and back to pick up the Squadron mail. My total time airborne that day amounted to just 1 hour 50 minutes. My next flight, the following day, was a 40 minutes aerobatic mission followed by a QGH. I was airborne only three times more before the end of the detachment, each time I was briefed to fire on the flag which I did twice only because the tug aircraft didn't show up for the other sortie. My average score was a miserable 4.67%. The Squadron average score was 13.9% which made us a clear winner of the Duncan Trophy for that year. My score, as a non-operational pilot, was not included in the calculations. Scoring, for those who have never fired the guns of an aircraft, was done by calculating the number of hits on the target as a percentage of the number of rounds actually fired. As it was usual for four aircraft to fire on the same flag a means of identifying which aircraft made how many hits was necessary. This was done by the use of sticky dyes. The colours used were usually plain (no dye), red, green, and yellow, as at Pembrey during training. It was then a simple expedient for the Flag Recovery Team in the dropping zone to recover the flag and count the number of holes of whatever colour, the dye having wiped off the rounds as they passed through. This count was then signalled back to the Squadron where the scores were correlated, calculated, recorded, and posted on the duty board for all to see.
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