I was 12 years old when the family moved to Old Bolingbroke. From the house, we could see the airfield being built. It was 1942.

In the school playground, me and my pals would often be wondering what type of aircraft would be coming to East Kirkby. We thought probably Halifaxes, Wellingtons or maybe the light bombers such as the Blenheims or the Mosquitoes.

I remember it was a clear August day, a Sunday. The days were beginning to mellow and harvest would soon be upon us.

We'd just gone in for lunch when I heard the sound of aircraft engines and, to my surprise, it was the new 4-engined Lancaster bomber. That really excited us.

It circled the airfield, as if it was inspecting it, then more arrived. One by one we counted 19. They made a loud, sweet sound. We could even see the crews. We were thrilled to think that they put on a bit of a show for us and I'm sure they did.

We'd often be playing out on our bicycles; whenever we heard the engines started up, we'd make headway for the end of the runway to see them take off. (The most I ever counted was 41.)

They'd circle around East Kirkby, the same would be happening at RAF Coningsby, Spilsby, Woodall Spa. Sometimes the gunners would wave to us; they'd move their guns or wave their hands.

They were all volunteers, every one of them; they were my heroes.

I used to pray they'd come back in the morning…...many didn't.

by Fred Panton