A Very Unusual Air War (14 page)

2 November
: Doing a bit of ferrying. I seem to remember that on the outward flight we ‘beat up’ someone’s girlfriend’s house.

7 November
: Flew as close escort to 6 Blenheims for the bombing of a distillery near Le Tréport. After the bombs had been dropped we all had a go at the distillery and nearby factory buildings and mill, with cannons and machine guns. On this occasion flak was light and we all got back safely but I wondered whether the French workers were so lucky.

8 November
: Flew as top cover to 12 Blenheims attacking a factory near Lille. Having bombed successfully, we started our return but soon after making the turn, we were attacked by a large number of ME 109s that were supported by single pairs of Focke Wulfs. By then, having made the deep penetration almost to the Belgian border, our fuel state was critical, which made it difficult to fight back. I saw a Spitfire and a 109 go down in flames, both leaving trails of smoke. I made an emergency landing at Manston with about 2 gallons of fuel left. The rest of the squadron were scattered at other nearby airfields. I was surprised to find that all of our Wing returned home safely.

Immediately after being refuelled, those of us who could be contacted were ordered off to cover an air sea rescue ‘Walrus’ to pick up two aircrew who had run out of fuel and were ‘in the drink’. They had both been picked up by the time we arrived so we returned to base.

9 November
: I was flying as Yellow 3 with a new officer, P/O Max Charlesworth, as my number two. Nearing the French coast my engine briefly cut out but resumed after a few seconds but with reduced power. I thought it wise to return to base and turned for home closely followed by the rest of the squadron, which had no engagement. After the war Max achieved high office in, I believe, the Foreign or Colonial Office.

26 November
:

After the Dunkirk evacuation there was much bad feeling between certain parts of the Army and the Air Force. Even after eighteen months, it was still evident in some areas. They (the soldiers) felt that they had been let down by the RAF because they rarely saw our fighters over the beaches and did not appreciate that the RAF were doing their best to stop the Luftwaffe aircraft inland, before they reached the Dunkirk area. Sergeant Quinn, a young Irishman, while walking near Kenley, was one of several who were subjected to attacks from members of Army units based at nearby Caterham barracks. He was beaten up and was so badly injured that after some time in hospital he did not return to flying duties.

In the operations over enemy-held territory, if bombers were involved, it was the task of our fighters to protect them from the attacks of enemy fighters. Initially, Hurricanes flew as close escort but, as bomber speeds increased with the advent of aircraft like the American Boston, and more and more Spitfires came into service, the latter took over most close escort duties. Close escort was not a popular position, as having to fly at lower speeds to match the bombers we had to weave in order to maintain station, so we too became more vulnerable.

8 December
: This month I flew on only one operational sweep. The Luftwaffe took advantage of poor weather to start sending fighter-bombers, bomb-carrying ME109s and later, FW190s, at the start of what came to be known as the Baedeker raids. Towns, generally 70–80 miles from the coast, were picked apparently at random from a pre-war travel guide. In a way these were in retaliation for our
Rhubarbs
but on a much bigger scale. Usually a single bomb was dropped but sometimes targets were also attacked by machine gun and cannon fire. We spent many hours at ‘readiness state’ and I was scrambled on two occasions in an effort to intercept these raids. They really were hit and run, very few interceptions were successful, although the situation improved with practice.

17 December
: A long trip to South Wales in a little trainer with open cockpits in mid-December. Brrr! Bitterly cold.

18 December
: That night six of us fighter boys from 602 Squadron, 3 officers and 3 NCOs were invited to the Christmas dinner and dance of the East London Brewery Company. We were collected from Kenley by taxi and taken to the venue somewhere off the Old Kent Road. I spent most of the evening with a very pretty, very young lady. She was carefully watched over by her mum and dad! At the end of the evening we were invited upstairs to the Directors’ boardroom for a nightcap and farewell drink. I have little recollection of being loaded into the taxi and returned to Kenley, each of us clutching a bottle of champagne. Some time in the night I awoke hanging on to the rocking bed; feeling thirsty, I drank the champagne and remembered nothing more until mid-day.

24 December
: Estelle made the journey to Kenley by train early in the afternoon. Sgt Parker, the Link trainer instructor, had a house nearby and he and his wife had kindly offered us a bed for the night. We had been invited to a dance in the main
building at Croydon Airport. With Sgt Des O’Connor and S/Ldr Reg Grant (C/O of 452 Sqdn), Estelle and I travelled the short distance to Croydon by train. Also in our carriage were three or four soldiers, all out for trouble; the usual complaint: ‘Where were the Air Force planes at Dunkirk?’ Reg silenced them with the remark that his brother was there and was shot down and killed. The following day I was back on duty and Estelle spent what she described as the most miserable Christmas Day of her life, in the train back to Slough, where she was still living with my sister.

25 December
: I had said a rather sad goodbye to Estelle at the Parkers’ that Christmas morning, leaving Sergeant Parker to drive her to Whiteleaf station. Before returning on duty at Kenley, the best I could do for Estelle was a few circles and a slow roll or two over what I thought was her train. Then back to earth to continue the Christmas Day activities. At lunchtime it was the custom (I believe in all the services) for the officers and senior NCOs to wait on the ground staff by serving their Christmas lunch. It was a good excuse for a booze-up.

29 December
: Minesweeping. The weather was absolutely awful and throughout the patrol we saw no sign of ships. Despite the weather, we were kept at Martlesham in a full state of readiness until January 2nd. The duty note above tells only half the story. We were told that our operation was most important, as a major convoy was to pass through the Channel. The path to be taken by the ships was to be swept clear of mines. After the patrol on the 29th, in appalling weather, we were told that the convoy was postponed, pending an improvement but we were to remain at Martlesham ready for immediate action. On the morning of the 30th we were again ordered off but ‘scrubbed’ as no ships had appeared. We stayed grounded for another three days, fed up and frustrated.

602 was basically a Scottish squadron and something like 75% of the pilots were Scots. Back at Kenley parties and dances had been organised to celebrate Hogmanay and wives and girlfriends were there to join in the celebrations. All pleas to ‘go back just for the night’ fell on deaf ears but we were allowed transport into Ipswich that evening. The New Zealanders of 485 Squadron joined in the celebrations and we all got somewhat ‘tanked up’. We were ordered out of the chosen pub at closing time and two very brave Special Constables arrived to enforce the order. They were kept in a revolving door until we were ready to leave! I have no memory of the return to Martlesham but found myself there the following morning.

At the crack of dawn, with the pilots of 485 Squadron, we were ordered to form up on the parade ground by an irate Station Commander. When the RAF standard was raised on the parade ground flagstaff it was found that some of the chaps had found, in the station theatre, a large green papier-mâché parrot and substituted it for the standard and there it flew proudly for all to see. The Station Commander was not amused. In addition, a formal complaint had been received from the Ipswich police, demanding that the ringleaders of the assault on two of his Specials should be handed over. This request, at the time, was ignored and the
next day we all flew back to Kenley. The police agreed to quash any further action, on condition that they received a formal apology. Our two Squadron commanders, Al Deere and ‘Hawkeye’ Billy Wells, both highly decorated New Zealanders, flew over and their personal apologies were accepted. We heard nothing more about the convoy or the mine-sweeping operation, so I presume that some other squadrons provided the cover.