Great find, thanks !
Reminds me of a poem I had read years ago in a book, by another photo-recon Spitfire pilot (no not that other famous poem written by a PR Spitfire pilot !). Thanks to the magic of Google, here is The Tale of the Gremlins:
This is the tale of the Gremlins
as told by the PRU
At Benson, Wick and St Eval
And believe me you slobs, it's true.
When you're seven miles up in the heavens
(that's one hell of a lonely spot),
and it's sixty degrees below zero,
which isn't exactly hot.
When you're frozen blue like your Spitfire
and you're scared a mosquito pink,
and you're thousands of miles from nowhere,
and there's nothing beneath but the drink.
It's then that you will see the gremlins,
green, and gamboge, and gold,
male and female and neuter,
gremlins both young and old.
it's no good trying to dodge them,
the lessons you learnt on the 'link'
won't help you to evade a gremlin,
though boost, and you dive, and jink
white ones will wiggle your wing tips,
male ones will muddle your maps,
green ones will guzzle your glycol,
females will flutter your flaps.
Pink ones will perch on your perspex,
and dance pirouettes on your prop,
and there's a spherical middle aged gremlin,
who'll spin on your stick like a top.
They'll freeze up your camera shutters,
they'll bite through your aileron wires,
they'll bend, and they'll break, and they'll batter.
They'll insert toasting forks in your tyres.
This is the tale of the gremlins,
as told by the PRU.
Pretty Ruddy Unlikely to many,
but fact, none the less,
to the few.
.