The slap of running feet was muffled by the dawn mist that was settling over the airfield. Airmen ground crew and officers alike ran towards the stricken Hurricane that had landed short of the dispersal area later than the rest of B wing flight. The sound of barking mascot dogs added to the confusion of the rescuing hoard bound to the damaged aircraft’s aid.

The Hurricane had been badly shot up, holes appearing along the fuselage and through the tail plane. Many jagged holes had been made by the 7.92mm bullets from an enemy Me109 that had done it’s worst and yet the plane had survived. Luckily they had missed the fuel tanks but one round had grazed the pilots calf as it sped through the cockpit.

Pilot Officer ‘Lucky’ Lutkin slid back the canopy as his rescuers approached. He had been reported missing by his wing leader until finally he was picked up on the radar. His crew mates had all thought that this time ‘Lucky’ Lutkin’s luck had finally run out.

The grin on his face told the ground crew that this was not so, he was living up to his nickname. ‘Are you injured sir?’ the sergeant asked as he helped him out of the cockpit.

‘Bastard grazed my leg’ he complained as his leg made it over the cockpit edge.

‘Soon have the medics look at that for you sir. You were damned lucky by the look of your kite.’

The airfield fire truck had pulled up at the scene at the same time with the crew spilling out as it drew to a halt, the crew looking somewhat disappointed yet relieved that the aircraft hadn’t burst into flames.

‘Lucky’s’ wing leader pulled up gasping as he tried to catch his breath. Through his gaps he said ‘You are one lucky bugger, I thought you were a goner when that Me109 latched on to you. The rest of us were out of ammo and could do little to come to your rescue. He certainly gave you a strafing before he got the hell out of there. Good for you lad in making it back.

At the age of nineteen, Pilot Officer Leslie ‘Lucky’ Lutkin had flown eight sorties, two suffering slight damage to the airframe but unhurt himself. The nickname ‘Lucky’ had soon stuck and he always had a grin when he was referred to as such.

His Hurricane was soon patched up by the ever busy ground crew, the powerful Merlin engine untouched during the latest damage. It was now ready for the next sortie.

Two afternoons later, the wing was once again scambled when incoming enemy aircraft appeared on the radar screens. Two hours later most of the wing landed again, but not Pilot Officer Leslie Lutkin, finally his luck had run out.