1 September 1940

72 Squadron scrambled from Croydon at 10.54 a.m. in search of enemy aircraft over Tunbridge Wells and they found plenty. Des, in Spitfire X4109, lined up a bomber but then he ‘glanced behind and found six Me 109s bearing down on me. Despite my frantic twisting and turning my engine was hit by a cannon shell and burst into flames. I was left with no option and quickly baled out.’ The aircraft bunted and Des cleared it easily.

‘I then began somersaulting but got straightened out and after counting to ten pulled the ripcord. The parachute opened smoothly and there was a reassuring jolt, as it took effect. I found myself swaying gently some 12,000 to 15,000 feet above the ground. The descent, which took some time was very pleasant. It did, moreover, give me a perhaps unusual opportunity to survey the battle. It was a clear cloudless day and, in fact, a beautiful Sunday morning. But on my right I could see bombs bursting in the Dover area and the answering fire of the AA defences. The AA were also very active in the London area on my left and in between a series of running fights were taking place. Quite close to me a Me 109 went down vertically in flames. I think it was the pilot of this one who baled out but had a faulty harness. In the event he parted company with his parachute with the inevitable result. Another Me 109 turned towards me but a Spitfire turned onto his tail and both quickly disappeared.’

Desmond’s Spitfire crashed at Court Lodge Farm but he landed safely in a field at Ashford ‘with nothing but a slight jar. I got out of my harness and began to roll up the parachute. A young girl came up and eyed me shyly and a few minutes later a young army lieutenant appeared on the scene, doubtfully waving his revolver in my general direction...there was no doubt that he wondering whether I was a German’.

Australians were not overly common in the RAF at that stage of the war and the lieutenant did not recognise the dark blue uniform as belonging to an ally. Desmond ignored the revolver, continued to pick up his parachute and started to chat with the soldier. All was soon sorted out and his Army escort took him back to the local army mess for a meal and a welcome shave. While there he saw ‘two more terrific battles’ and later quipped to his parents that ‘the RAF certainly earns its money these days.’

Honorary Australian in the Battle of Britain. 31 August 1940. James Coward

31 August 1940 was a huge day for Fighter Command. The Luftwaffe launched a massive offensive that lasted from about 8.00 in the morning to about 7.00 in the evening, and resulted in nine killed/missing and 41 Hurricanes and Spitfires either written off or lost at sea.

Fighter Command had already successfully dealt with two early morning formations of bombers when another attacked Debden airfield with little opposition, dropping over 100 bombs. The Heinkels and Dorniers were on their way back to France when, at about 8.30 a.m., they ran into 19 Squadron, who had been scrambled to intercept.

Flying Officer James Coward, in Spitfire X4231, saw a Dornier and lined up for a ‘beautiful shot’ but, he later recalled, ‘when I pressed the firing button absolutely nothing happened’. His guns had jammed. Then, ‘I suddenly felt a hard kick on the shin. I looked round and I saw my bare foot sitting on the rudder pedal’. His shoe and sock had disappeared; his foot was hanging by the ligaments. He didn’t have time to think about the pain because his Spitfire was diving out of control. ‘I was sucked out of the cockpit and my parachute got caught and I was trapped. I was dragged back along the fuselage, my trousers had blown off and my foot was banging around my knee’. He pulled the ripcord and found himself alone in the sky. As he descended, he remembered experiencing ‘the most wonderful feeling of peace until I suddenly looked down and saw my blood pumping out red spurts’.

James used his helmet wireless lead to tie a tourniquet to staunch the blood—this saved his life. He landed and was accosted by a young lad with a pitchfork who thought he was a German. After some choice language on James’s part that clearly verified his British ancestry, a doctor was called and he was whisked to hospital. After surgery where his left leg was amputated below the knee, he awoke to find his heavily pregnant wife at his bedside. He did not dwell on something that would have brought a lesser man down. Legend has it that his first words to his wife were, ‘Hallo Cinnie. I’ll never play Rugger again’. He didn’t. But he enjoyed a very good RAF career, was awarded the AFC in 1954 and retired as an Air Commodore to Australia in 1969. He was an energetic skier and Scottish dancer, enjoying both past times until well into his 90s.

 

 

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 31 August 1940. Desmond Sheen

As John Crossman continued to discover to his chagrin, the north was quiet. Des Sheen and 72 Squadron had had little work to do after the 15 August battle and it was clear to them that all the main action was down south. While there was nothing in the offing for the 13 Group squadrons other than a few uneventful patrols, 11 Group squadrons continued to be battered. Just as 79 Squadron relieved 32 Squadron, on 31 August, 13 Group ordered 72 Squadron to Biggin Hill to replace 610 Squadron.

(72 Squadron en route from Acklington to Biggin Hill)

72 Squadron arrived mid-afternoon at a station that had been bombed the day before and again just a few hours ago. Hangars had been blown up and several buildings were just rubble. Both male and female station staff had pitched in to the fill the bomb craters on the grass airfields. Even so, only one landing strip was serviceable. That wasn’t in the best condition and it took some time to land because the Spitfires had to pick their way through the hastily filled bomb craters.

After the Spits refuelled, 72 Squadron was called to readiness and at 5.50 p.m. scrambled for a patrol 10 miles south of Maidstone. For Des, it was a less than auspicious start to 11 Group operations. His Spitfire would not start after it had been refuelled. He just watched as the others took off and disappeared. Eventually his engine started. He took off not a moment too soon as the enemy bombers returned at 6.00 p.m. to bomb Biggin Hill yet again. Des did not catch up to his squadron so conducted a lone patrol over Kent, returning later to an airfield that had received another pasting. He was unable to land, so headed to Kenley. This detour is not reflected in the squadron’s operations record book but unofficial historian Roger Deacon Elliott records that Desmond was posted as missing, until he turned up later.

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 31 August 1940. Biggin Hill

Biggin Hill was not in a good state. The station had been bombed on the 30th, with a number of fatalities and injuries. Hangars had been blown up and several buildings were rubble. After the Luftwaffe paid a return call at noon on the 31st both male and female station staff pitched in to the fill the bomb craters on the grass airfields. One landing strip was rendered partially serviceable and 72 Squadron had some difficulty landing as their Spitfires had to pick their way through the hastily filled bomb craters.

By the end of the day, at least two dispersed aircraft had received direct hits and were totally destroyed. The armoury had been hit, and the water supply, communications and lighting were out of commission. By the time Des Sheen returned from his detour to Kenley, there were more bomb craters. His WAAF driver skilfully negotiated her way through them to Des’s new billet. He thought his driver’s fortitude remarkable and admired:

 ‘the very fine way the WAAFs were taking it. In particular we had a WAAF driver who had lost her husband and many of her friends in a previous raid but drove us round the airfield with a nonchalant disregard of the many unexploded bombs’.

The officers’ mess had been badly hit and Desmond remembered ‘eating supper by candlelight with the Station Commander walking around heavily bandaged.’ Group Captain Grice had been wounded when the operations block had taken a direct hit. Some semblance of order was established but even so, Des slept in a mess which had four delayed action bombs in the kitchen. He laughed it off when he reported it to his parents some days later: ‘when one is tired it’s easy to sleep!

Despite valiant efforts, the airfield was still unserviceable the next morning so 72 Squadron evacuated to Croydon first thing on the 1st.

John Crossman, who was now on leave for a day or two in Newcastle, heard the news of the damage to Biggin Hill with concern. As he had received little notice of the move to Acklington when he returned to 32 Squadron, some of his personal gear, and his brand new secondhand car had to be left behind. He lost no time in finding out the extent of the damage to his old station and his car. It seems his damage intelligence source was deliberately underplaying the state of affairs:

‘Direct hit on operations room. 30 people in shelter killed by direct hit. A big Humber car was lifted into the air and landed 50 feet up on a hangar. Must try and get my stuff and car away from there but goodness only knows how. Luckily most of the bombs have fallen on a golf course. The mess is still intact and my car.’ 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 31 August 1940. Bill Millington.

Bill Millington was in the air twice on 31 August, which was, for him at least, another epic day. During his first encounter, ‘we engaged about twenty Me 109s and slapped quite a few down. I was again badly shot up and made a forced landing near Folkestone and returned to my station per police car’. He was credited with one Me 109 destroyed.

At 17.45 p.m., Bill and his section were tasked with aerodrome guard duties when fifteen Dornier Do 215s escorted by large numbers of Messerschmitt Me 109s and 110s were sighted. Bill attacked, setting alight the port engine of one of the Do 215s. Three Me 109s then attacked him. He damaged one and shook off the other two. He was on his own by that stage. He attacked the bombers again but was beset by two Me 109s. He shook off one and shot the other down. In doing so he was attacked by another Me109 and was wounded in the left thigh. His engine started to burn and flames licked his skin. As the flames caught hold, Bill had two choices but his decision was obvious. ‘I considered it unwise to bale out’, he later explained, ‘as my machine would probably have crashed into a small village’. Bill’s Hurricane crashed in flames at Conghurst Farm, Hawkhurst, completely missing the village of Tenterden and, ‘covered in blood and grease’ he ‘managed to scramble out before the machine exploded’.

Bill later told his sister that he ‘was taken to a nearby cottage to clean up and drunk the inevitable cup of tea. The typical village police constable turned up, pulled out a note book and said ‘name and address please’. He wouldn’t believe I was the Prince of Wales!!’ Given there wasn’t one at the time, this, of course, is not surprising! But back to Bill. ‘I eventually finished up in hospital for about ten days, where most of the shrapnel in my thigh was removed. The few pieces remaining will probably eventually work out causing no inconvenience. I can recommend hospital as a very noble institution. The nurses were terrific particularly my little Irish night nurse. Two other officers were with me, and we had quite a few gay evenings together.’

Bill recovered well in hospital but he would not return to 79 Squadron. On 19 September he would head to 249 Squadron at North Weald and on his chest would be a DFC ribbon. Attached to the DFC recommendation were some additional remarks by the Air Officer Commanding 11 Group, Air Vice-Marshal Keith Park: 

‘This young Australian officer has shot down six enemy aircraft. He showed great courage in landing his aircraft and so saved it crashing into a village with its engine on fire, despite the fact he was wounded. He has exhibited dash and courage in attacking superior numbers. I consider he is well worthy of reward and strongly recommend him for the Immediate Award of the Distinguished Flying Cross.’

Bill Millington DFC

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 30 August 1940

30 August 1940 saw the Luftwaffe return in force, with a total of 1,310 sorties launched against Britain and Bill Millington was in the thick of them.

 

At about 10.30 a.m. a large formation was detected off the French coast. It soon became clear that Fighter Command would have to deal with three separate formations of Heinkel He 111s and their escorts. Fighter Command decided to counter the formations by releasing their squadrons in two waves. 43, 79, 253, and 603 Squadrons were in the first wave, and were despatched to the Deal and Folkestone area to intercept the first formation of bombers just prior to them reaching the English coast.

 Eight aircraft from 79 Squadron scrambled from Biggin Hill at about 11.30 and again the squadron acquitted itself well. Green Section met thirty or more Heinkels and the three shared a destroyed. Pilot Officer Mayhew, who was Blue 4, met eighteen He IIIs as well as three Me 110 and 109s. He claimed 1 Heinkel destroyed. Meanwhile, Blue 1, Pilot Officer Teddy Morris, attacked a Heinkel head on. Not surprisingly, he destroyed it but also had to bale out. He eventually returned home safely. Pilot Officer Tracey, Blue 3, claimed one destroyed Heinkel. There was some suggestion that this Heinkel had in fact been attacked by Spitfires but Tracey was confident of his victory. There were no doubts about the claims of Blue 2, however.

 Bill Millington once again proved that he was a fighter pilot of a high calibre. When he went on readiness that morning, he already had a personal bag of one destroyed Me 109 and three destroyed He 111s. He was almost an ace. By the time he limped back to Biggin Hill at about 12.15 p.m., during a ‘hair-breadth escape’ in an aircraft that had been holed in at least thirty places and rendered U/S and with no more ammunition, he was an ace with a claim for one destroyed He 111, one He 111 probably destroyed, and a Bf 110 damaged.

 Bill was a modest chap and, like many a RAF ‘star’ refrained from adopting the ace tag. But he was proud of his achievements in an understated way, and always willing to share the credit where it was due. When he told his sister all about the day’s efforts (and those of the next day, but stay tuned for details of those) he told her that: 

‘August 30/31 were rather epic days. A South African [Teddy Morris] and I scattered a Bomber formation, shooting down three. Actually the South African collided with a Heinkel III and both machines crashed but Teddy baled out and reached home safely. I limped back home with my machine badly shot up.’

Bill Millington, an Australian ace fighter pilot.

(Incidentally, those who have read my Clive Caldwell Air Ace might recognise Teddy Morris as Caldwell’s CO at 250 Squadron.)

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 29 August 1940

As August drew to a close, the weather, for the time being, was in Fighter Command’s favour. Enemy activity was light with only occasional reconnaissance incursions along the east coast. There was ‘a flap’ at Warmwell ‘but the bandits turned back’ and then a quiet day for Ken at dispersal as, for the main part, Fighter Command, adopted the policy of leaving the reconnaissance aircraft to it. Ken didn’t mind. He was happy to play out his shift at dispersal and then head off for a swim at Lulworth Cove. John Crossman, however, was still itchy. ‘This place is awfully quiet and as yet we haven’t even heard of Jerries and from the look of things won’t’. Patience wasn’t one of John’s strong points.

The Germans certainly had given Acklington a wide berth. Des Sheen had not flown a patrol since the 24th and 72 Squadron generally had been very quiet since their activities of the 15th had sent the enemy packing. So, let’s skip forward twelve months in Des’s life.

On 29 August 1941, 72 Squadron was part of a circus escorting bombers to Hazebrouck marshalling yards in northern France. Des, who had been appointed 72’s CO on 28 March was leading his squadron. As they crossed the coast, 72 Squadron sighted a large number of Me 109s. Des determined that they were a serious threat to the squadron so he led his Spitfires into a fierce running battle, stretching into the middle of the channel. He claimed a damaged Me 109E six miles east of Hazebrouck, and the squadron claimed their own successes. Shortly after their return, the intelligence officer sat down and drafted a memo which praised Des’s ‘coolheadedness and tactics when the squadron was menaced and practically surrounded by at least three squadrons of enemy fighters over enemy occupied territory.’ He made other comments about Des’s leadership abilities and then concluded his memo with a recommendation:

‘We, the undersigned, pilots of his squadron on the occasion referred to, respectfully recommend that Squadron Leader Sheen be awarded a bar to his DFC for his conspicuous bravery, coolness and initiative in saving his squadron from suffering very heavy casualties and in inflicting them on the enemy’.

The recommendation was signed by the IO and eleven of Desmond’s men. It was accepted and gazetted on 21 October 1941, the second anniversary of his first combat and enemy success. Desmond eventually came to hear the story of his squadron-initiated Bar but had no idea at the time.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 28 August 1940

As it happened, John Crossman didn’t ‘crack off’ on the 27th. The squadron ‘flew up to Acklington in formation this afternoon. There was a raid coming over just as we left and the last thing I heard before we left was from the loud speakers round the camp: “All personnel not actively engaged in getting aircraft off the ground take cover.”’

32 Squadron arrived at Acklington late in the afternoon and John was not impressed. ‘It’s a lousy place. Miles from anywhere and fearfully quiet. We’ll never see any action here.’

Warmwell was seeing some action of a different sort. Ken Holland was at readiness from 13.00–20.00 ‘but all quiet on Dorset Front.’ 152 Squadron may not have been called to action but ‘lots of incendiaries’ had been dropped in the area and ‘heath fires raging all around N and NE of Warmwell.’

Ken Holland was not the only Australian on 152 Squadron. As well as Carr Withall who was lost on 12 August, Ian Norman Bayles had been posted to 152 Squadron and, as well as the incendiaries, Ken noted that the ‘CO flew Bayles to town for his marriage demain’. (Ken was apt to sprinkle his notes with the occasional French word or two.)

Ian Norman Bayles was born in Melbourne on 13 August 1918. His father, Norman, was a prominent solicitor who served as representative of Toorak in the Victorian Legislative Assembly for fourteen years, retiring in 1920. Bayles senior was a great traveller abroad and claimed to have covered 300,000 miles in a decade. His excuse for his international roving was his son’s education at Winchester College. After a brief return trip to Australia in 1937, Ian decided to read law at Oxford, planning to eventually practise in Melbourne. He went up to Oxford in 1938 and, like Richard Hillary, was a member of Trinity College. Ian joined the Oxford University Air Squadron on 19 October 1938, soon after commencing his studies. He would have a good career with 152 Squadron and a good war. He was awarded a DFC on 12 October 1945.

 Just 22 and about to be married. Ian Norman Bayles.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 27 August 1940

Ken Holland was up at 5.00 a.m. and down to the flights for a long wait until Green Section scrambled late in the morning. Pilot Officer Beaumont and Flying Officer O’Brien shared a destroyed. Ken may not have had anything to do with the victory but Ken headed into Weymouth to have a celebratory drink anyway.

Meanwhile, it was all ago at Biggin Hill and Acklington. 32 Squadron at Biggin Hill had had more than their fair share of the action so far. They badly needed a rest. But you can’t rest without a ready replacement. Bill Millington’s 79 Squadron had had a quiet few weeks of it at Acklington and so, they were ordered south and 32 Squadron were ordered north.

John Crossman, who had only arrived back at Biggin Hill the night before from his operational training, had barely enough time to ‘pack enough stuff for three weeks and put it in a big troop carrying plane to be taken up north’. He managed to dash off a note to his family to let them know he was leaving Biggin Hill but expected to be back in three weeks. It was only a brief missive, though, as ‘we have to crack off soon’.

 

The irony of it was that he was well rested, or at least had had no chance to be battle weary. He desperately wanted to get into combat and yet his squadron had just been retired from the immediate aerial arena for the time being.  

 

Here's John all ready to take to the skies. Not in August 1940 but in Winter 1940 when it was bitterly cold.

 

 

 

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 26 August 1940

And now we return to the general narrative of what ‘my’ pilots were doing this day 72 years ago. 

At Brize Norton, Peter Moore was officially mustered as a Pilot: he was finally awarded his pilot’s brevet. He had received a proficiency rating of 79.2%. Next stop, operational training. John Crossman left Sutton Bridge for Biggin Hill. He had had enough of training: he was ‘very glad to be going too’.

26 August was a red letter day for Ken Holland ‘X RAID PATROL FIRST’. He was Yellow Two, but they met nothing. It seems the squadron thought little of this non-encounter as it is not recorded in the Operations Record Book. Perhaps they were too distracted by the ‘big flap in the evening but only solitary Huns over.’

As well as recording his own important news, he noted that ‘234 Wallop had a dog fight with six 109s and shot down two’.

Actually, Ken got it a bit wrong. Indeed, 234 Squadron did have a busy time of it and two of the 109s were shot down by fellow Australian Pat Hughes. At about 5.00 in the evening, five miles south of the Isle of Wight, while on a squadron scramble to patrol Portsmouth, Pat, as Cressy Leader:

‘Intercepted eight Me 109s at 16,000 feet followed by 30 Me 109s 2000 feet above and three miles behind. My section formed astern and attacked the leading eight, who immediately split up into sections of two aircraft each. I attacked the leading two aircraft and fired a burst of five seconds as the rear one which caught fire and dropped vertically. The second aircraft had climbed and was shooting from above but on turning he dived away but was caught by a long burst from dead astern when he pulled out. This aircraft caught fire but stayed in the air for several minutes.’

 

 

Pat was not the only one to bring home the honours for 234 Squadron. Pilot officers Bob Doe, Horton and Mortimer Rose as well as Sergeant Hornby each claimed 109s destroyed. As their squadron historian noted, they ‘brought the memorable month of August to a fitting end by shooting down six more Me 109s’.

(This photo of 234 Squadron was taken before 15 August when Bush Parker was taken POW.)

Vale Dick Glyde 13 August 1940

The Glyde  Window, Christ Church, Claremont, Perth.

 

Dick's name on the Runnymede Memorial.

 

Dick's Medals.

 

Vale Jack Kennedy 13 July 1940

Here are the photos I wanted to share in memory of Jack Kennedy. The first is his headstone in Warmwell Churchyard. The second was taken on 10 July 1947 at the dedication of the Battle of Britain window.

 

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 25 August 1940

Still nothing much of note for ‘my’ Australians, and so, I am continuing the theme of ‘what happened next’ for those who died... (And, unfortunately, another day when I can't upload images). 

 Soon after Dick Glyde’s death on 13 August 1940, the 87 Squadron adjutant sent Dick’s DFC to his parents. They never applied for his service medals, or the precious Battle of Britain Clasp but, many years later, Dick’s cousin claimed them on behalf of the family and mounted them with Dick’s DFC. He donated them to a museum in 1980 where They remained safely for many years but in the early 1990s, they, and a number of other items, were stolen.

 Dick’s medals resurfaced in 2006 in an auction catalogue. They were returned to the Museum and are once again part of their collection and, rather than just a commodity to be bought and sold, they have again become a symbol of contribution and sacrifice.

‘The Few’ are also immortalised in many public and private memorials and Dick’s is one of the more spectacular. The Glydes belonged to Christ Church parish in Claremont, Perth. They commissioned a stained glass window to replace a plain diamond-paned leadlight window on the north side of the church.

The Glyde Window features the image of Saint Michael, winged warrior, archangel and one of the patrons of chivalry, as well as crests from the RAF and Dick’s school—signifying their importance in his life. It was dedicated at Evensong on 15 December 1946. 470 people attended, including Frank and Phillis Glyde. Frank died just two months later on 17 February 1947. Phillis died on 19 April 1962. The Glyde Window clearly shows the Glydes’ pride in their son’s achievements at school and in his air force career as well as their desire that his sacrifice never be forgotten. It is a significant memorial.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 24 August 1940

Jack Kennedy died on 13 July 1940 almost as soon as the Battle of Britain started. What happened next in this young Australian’s story?

With a Catholic padre officiating, he was buried with full honours at Holy Trinity, a small Anglican church close to Warmwell airfield. Service to country and empire link the dead of different faiths.

Back in Australia, Jack’s family were overwhelmed by grief. They placed a small notice in The Sydney Morning Herald and received many letters of condolence and phone calls. Masses were said for him at the family church at Holy Cross, Woollahra and Waverley College, his old school.

Back at 238 Squadron, the Committee of Adjustment gathered his sporting medals and trophies, uniform, even his cufflink box and an old theatre ticket to return to his family. But there was no trace of his flying log. His mother was devastated. It was a tangible link with her son—a record of his service life since he had left her. Jack’s parents both died early. Neither got over the death of their only son and the loss of that flying log had made their grief just that much harder to bear.

On 10 July 1947, almost seven years after Jack’s death, King George VI unveiled the Battle of Britain memorial window in honour of ‘The Few’ at Westminster Abbey. Jack’s parents had been invited to the ceremony but his mother had been ill for some months and had died on 20 June 1947. Despite the expense, John Kennedy would have attended if he could, but would not leave his dying wife. As it happened, a number of the Australian-based families were not able to attend, but the Australian High Commissioner arranged for each of them to be represented. John Kennedy was represented by Squadron Leader John Herington, the official historian of the RAAF’s activities in Europe during the Second World War.

 

Jack’s sister, Beryl, visited her brother’s grave in 1975. Standing in front of her brother’s memorial stone was a very moving experience. Memories of her elder brother, gone too soon, came back to her as she read the inscription chosen by her father: ‘In memory of our dear son and brother of Beryl who gave his life in the Battle of Britain’.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 23 August 1940

Yet another day weather-blighted day as far as the Luftwaffe was concerned but an opportunity to rest and regather strength for Fighter Command. The Germans attempted a few incursions, but, where Fighter Command decided to intercept, nothing was spotted because of the cloud cover. Happily, this was another day with no casualties.

Again I can’t pinpoint the exact movements of all of ‘my’ Australians. Ken Holland carried out some more formation practice and John Crossman had two aerial outings. The first, fifty minutes in Hurricane P3268 and the second was one hour five minutes in L1555. That’s it.

And so, another pen portrait, again carrying on the theme of animal lovers.

Peter John Moore was born on 1 October 1919. He was the third child and second son of Arthur Fitzroy Moore and Catherine Susan (née Morrissey) and born into a comfortable life among the social and business elite of Melbourne, Victoria. His was a happy, carefree Catholic childhood with pet puppy romping on the lawn. There were frequent trips to his grandparents who were graziers in NSW’s upper Hunter Valley. Fair-skinned, brown-eyed Peter soon lost his babyish blond curls as they darkened into a light brown and were clipped into a more suitable style for a growing lad. But the blonde fringe remained, usually brushed off his forehead as he matured, sometimes flopping down into his eyes until, in his twenties, his hair started to recede from his forehead.

In 1930, the year before his father’s death, Peter entered Burke Hall, the preparatory school for Xavier College, a Jesuit Catholic school. Peter was intelligent and a hard worker. He distinguished himself academically and was Dux—best student—in 1931, his final year there. Peter commenced at Xavier College on 10 February 1932. He again excelled academically and in his final year gained First class honours in Latin, second class honours in French and European History and third class honours in English. He was Dux of the school and was awarded a scholarship to Newman College, University of Melbourne. He did not take this up. Instead, he went to Oxford University.

Peter was cultured, elegant, and intelligent. Other than horse-riding, tennis and rowing, which he took up at Oxford, he was little interested in sport, preferring intellectual pursuits and an ultimate aim of a life in the diplomatic service. But flying got under his skin and he joined the Oxford University Air Squadron in April 1939, and the RAF Volunteer Reserve in June that year.

Bill Millington's Dog Prince

Isn't he a beautiful dog? Bill Millington loved his collie, Prince. This was taken in 1937.

Australians in the Battle of Britain: Bill Millington

Here's the photo of Bill Millington and Pipsqueak the Dog I was hoping to upload!

We Australians love our pets.  In this case, love must have conquered all as I have it on reasonable authority that the aforementioned dog was riddled by fleas!

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 22 August 1940

22 August was another bad weather day with limited operational activity for Fighter Command. Apart from Ken Holland carrying out formation practice where the ‘CO led us an awful dance in line ahead’ and John Crossman managing to fit in 35 minutes practice in Hurricane L1769, it was another quiet day for the Australians. So, what do you write about when nothing is happening? Well, what about a pen portrait of one of the Australians. 

Bill Millington arrived in Australia on his 9th birthday. He was gregarious, popular, always interested in what was going on in the world and had a large circle of friends and pen friends. Fair-haired and freckle-faced, he had a boyish smile that remained throughout adulthood, as did his open, cheery demeanour. He was a small lad who never filled up or out. (Even by the time he reached 21 he was only 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighed 10 stone 4 pounds.) He was an average student but from an early stage was considered an exemplary pupil. He joined the scouting movement at an early age and developed a strong social conscience and great loyalty to his family. He liked nothing better than messing about with boats or motorbikes, playing sport, gardening with his father and animals. He loved the family collie dog, Prince and when he was posted to 249 Squadron he soon adopted Wilfred the Duck and Pipsqueak the Dog, both of whom feature in 249 reminiscences, photo albums and the squadron history.

Because of some behind-the-scenes problem I cannot work out, I have not been able to load photos onto my blog for some days. So, I can't share a photo of Bill and Pipsqueak. Hopefully soon. In the interim, go to my facebook page and you will see one, as well as some more photos of Australian's and their beloved furry friends. 

http://www.facebook.com/#!/alexfax10

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 21 August 1940

The weather was getting worse. There was only a little enemy activity and, again, no RAF casualties. Pat Hughes was rostered off, as was Des Sheen and Bill Millington. Ken Holland was at the flights again and had some formation practice but during the relatively quiet day he had plenty of time to write up his flying log—‘an awful bore’. At Sutton Bridge, John Crossman carried out some flying exercises, increasing further his familiarity with the Hurricane.

Those who read The Times would have been heartened by the reports of Churchill’s speech in the Commons the day before. The Times journalist considered it a ‘spirited and confident speech’ and noted that it was ‘frequently interrupted by bursts of applause’. It a ‘fine survey of the war’ and The Times considered that ‘the effect of the air battles is to reassure any doubters there may be that ultimate victory is certain.’

The home intelligence gathers spoke to people all around the country to gauge the reception of Churchill’s speech. They discovered that it was received extremely well throughout the country. The consensus in Northern Ireland was that it was the most forceful and heartening of any Churchill had made previously. Bristol was confident that the British were top dogs and believed that, no matter what slight doubts might have been felt before, they would win. Newcastle reported that the speech had created a strong feeling of confidence.

And indeed, the spirit in Newcastle was high. One of the residents from from Newcastle-on-Tyne, the city of Bill Millington’s birth, wrote to the Adelaide connection to assure them that all was well despite the war and threats from bombardment:

‘When we get into the air-raid shelter we feel quite safe. We have seats, the floor is boarded (Dad did that), rugs on the floor, candle light and oil stove in case it is very cold. The lady, two doors higher up the street, has her mother, aged 82, staying with her, and the other night when we were in the shelter for three and a quarter hours they had their oil stove on, and made tea. The old lady was sitting drinking tea, very comfortable, when she looked up and said, “Mind, Mary these are nice little homes, but if you had your pictures up it would look much more ship-shape”’.

The Battle of Britain might not be over but the hearts of the British were strong and they were confident in the men who were defending them. Des Sheen certainly had it right when he wrote five days earlier that the RAF was popular.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 20 August 1940

20 August 1940 saw some action, with one loss but, generally speaking, it was a quiet day for Fighter Command. It was raining in the north, and both 72 and 79 squadrons at Acklington had no operational work whatsoever. It was so quiet that their respective squadron diarists did not even bother to record ‘nil report’ in their operations record books. There were scattered showers in the south and 234 Squadron at Middle Wallop was also quiet. At least their diarist picked up the pen to officially record ‘nil report’. Hopefully Des Sheen, Bill Millington and Pat Hughes were having a good rest as the rain poured down because they needed to build up their strength because it wasn’t going to be quiet for long.

Despite the weather, Ken Holland headed to the flights at Warmwell. He had high hopes that he would be in the air that day. He was excited to hear that there was a flap on and he would be going up with O’Brian and Reddington, if there were any machines left. But then the flap was off. A disappointed Ken did, however, make it into the air. Formation practice.

Our Australians may have had a quiet day of it, but Winston Church was not resting. He was about to immortalise those who fought and died in the Battle of Britain, even before its conclusion.

Addressing the House of Commons, Churchill spoke for nation and Empire:

‘The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the World War by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.’

Churchill did not exclude the valiant airmen of Bomber and Coastal commands in his speech. He thanked all ‘British airmen’ but, despite this, ‘The Few’ soon came to stand collectively for the men of Fighter Command, ‘the fighter pilots, whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day’.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 19 August 1940

Ken Holland received orders to go to Warmwell on 17 August. He arrived there late at night and, on reporting to the orderly office, found that there was ‘nothing doing’. He met a friend in Weymouth and stayed there overnight. It seems as if the ‘nothing doing’ extended to the 18th as, after breakfast at his hotel, he was off for a swim, then lunch and tea out. ‘Back late and slept at the Albany’. He returned to Warmwell on 19 August where he was introduced to Squadron Leader Devitt, the Commanding Officer of 152 Squadron. He was initially allocated to A Flight but later that day changed to B Flight. It was a grand day for the 20 year old Australian. 

At Brize Norton, Peter Moore was within days of completing his flying training and receiving his wings. 2 FTS was equipped with Harvards but Oxfords were added to its aircraft establishment soon after war broke out and, by this stage, had become the sole trainers. As well as advanced flying techniques such as spinning, glide landings, turns, take-offs and landings, forced landings, loops and slow rolls, low flying, night flying, formation flying and combat practice, Peter learned signalling, reconnaissance and maintenance. He was also assessed on the qualities of a non-commissioned officer. He had notched up approximately 100 flying hours on type, with about 50 hours solo. It wouldn’t be long before he, like Ken Holland, would be posted to an operational squadron.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 18 August 1940

This day brought the largest aerial confrontations of the Battle of Britain, with both sides suffering great losses. Indeed, both RAF and Luftwaffe combined lost more aircraft on the 18th that at any other time during the Battle. It didn’t take long for this to be known as The Hardest Day.

Pat Hughes had already gained his reputation as an aggressive and competent fighter pilot and, just after 15.00 p.m. he increased his personal tally against the enemy when, during an encounter over the Isle of Wight. As Pat tells it:

As Blue 1 I was on patrol when about 20 Me 109s appeared above me in the sun. I climbed towards them and my section attacked individually. I fired a burst at one Me 109 with no effect. Then I found myself attacked by two Me 109s one of which fired at me at extreme range. I turned and set this a/c on fire but was immediately attacked by the second one so could not follow it down. He attacked and climbed away and then dived. I followed until he started to pull up and shot him with two bursts of 2 secs each. This pilot immediately jumped out and landed on the Isle of Wight and his a/c crashed there a few seconds later, on fire. When I had observed this crash I saw a second cloud of smoke and fire just off the Isle of Wight which appeared to be the first 109.

Pat was credited with the two destroyed Messerschmitts.

While Pat was experiencing Battle, John Crossman discovered a new terror. He was still at Sutton Bridge and had finally resumed his diary. He had been training hard and hadn’t had much sleep lately. Perhaps it had caught up with him during a strenuous session of aerobatics.

Blacked out and then fainted at 7000 feet. When came round just had enough height to pull out a few hundred feet up. Terrifying experience. Must have been doing over 500 in dive. When I came round was going straight for ground at helluva bat. I’ll see I get plenty of sleep in future. That’s the trouble. One experience like that’s enough. Was too close to ground for my liking when I came out.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 17 August 1940

The last few days had been busy for Fighter Command with many casualties. 17 August provided some welcome relief. There was some routine flying—Pat Hughes, for instance was in the air carrying out a base patrol—but no enemy action around the south coast. Squadrons took the opportunity to relax in the summer sun.

17 August was a rare day indeed during the hectic weeks of the Battle of Britain. No casualties were recorded. But many had been lost beforehand: 78 pilots had been killed and 27 wounded, mostly experienced airmen, in the last eight days. In addition, some had been taken prisoner of war. And all that on top of the losses during the Battle of France. The OTUs could not keep up with this rate of attrition, even with courses slashed to push men through to operational squadrons post haste. Ken Holland, for instance, went through what had once been a four week course in eleven days. At this point, Fighter Command called for volunteers from the ranks of bomber pilots and the Fleet Air Arm. Two Australians who had flown the Fairey Battle in the France heeded this call, Flight Lieutenant John Hewson of 142 Squadron (who, although English born had an Australian mother and after the war would migrate to Australia and take out Australian citizenship) and Robert Bungey of 226 Squadron, who had been born in Fullerton, South Australia on 4 October 1914.

Robert took his last flight with 226 Squadron, in Battle L5498 with Sergeant Sullivan, to Carlisle and return on the 17th. He was then posted to 145 Fighter Squadron. He took his first flight in Hurricane R4177 on 22 August 1940, doing circuits and landings. He spent the rest of the month on training flights, familiarising himself with the local environs and converting to the Hurricane.

Robert had been a cadet at RAAF Point Cook, and was in the same class as Stuart Walch and Jack Kennedy and Battle of France star (and sad victim) Leslie Clisby. Robert graduated 31st in his class with 69.47%. He joined the RAF on a short service commission on 26 August 1937. He may have been in the RAF for almost three years by the time he joined Fighter Command, but he still proudly clung to his Australian service uniform. He carefully nursed it, darning it himself, and, despite sleeping in it for weeks on end during the blitzkrieg on France and the low countries, where ‘a year’s peace-time wear was crowded into a week’, he clung to it and its tangible connection to home. Despite its increasing dilapidation he did not replace it until June 1941 when he was promoted to command 452, the Australian Spitfire squadron—almost five years after he first donned it as an RAAF cadet.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 16 August 2008

After rereading H. E. Bates’s A Moment in Time, I decided, on 16 August 2008, at a sunny outdoor cafe in Crows Nest, Sydney, that I wanted to learn more about the Australians who flew in the Battle of Britain. That was the beginning for me. Four years later I am still researching and writing. I am over half way through my manuscript and feel that I have gained considerable insight into the lives and aerial careers of the nine pilots I am researching. Thank you H. E. Bates for setting me on this wonderful and very fulfilling path. 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 16 August 1940

After their hectic sessions in the air the day before, Bill Millington and Des Sheen had the day off. They might not have realised it at the time but Acklington was once again becoming an aerial backwater. With no flying duties on offer, Des decided to pen a long overdue letter to his family. He had received two letters from them that week, both taking many weeks to arrive and he was concerned that his parents were worrying unduly about him.

You seem rather depressed by the way things are going. Trouble is you are all too far away. If you could see the confidence the people here have it would amaze you as it has me.

Things really aren’t too bad. The last 4 or 5 days have cost the German air force nearly 400 aircraft, probably more. As a result the RAF is quite popular and it’s good to know our service is appreciated.

Food is plentiful and the public laugh at the invasion. Not that they don’t expect it but they are determined to make it fail. The confidence is incredible...So what the devil—why worry?

And why worry indeed with another day’s sterling results from Fighter Command, including from two of Des’s Point Cook friends. Gordon Olive, who with 65 Squadron is operating at Manston for the day, probably destroyed a Ju 88 and damaged a Messerschmitt 109. At 5.25 p.m., 234 Squadron is scrambled to intercept a large raid approaching Portsmouth. At about 6.15 p.m., south of the Isle of Wight, Pat sees about 50 Messerschmitt 109s above. He calls the Tally Ho!, orders sections line astern and leads the attack. The 109s form a defensive circle but aggressive Pat is not thwarted. He accounts two 109s. Round about the same time, John Pain who sailed to England on the Orama with John Crossman, was also in the air. 32 Squadron was in the air over Biggin Hill for its fourth patrol of the day when they encountered a large enemy force. John successfully destroyed a Ju 88 and probably another.

While Ken Holland’s fellow Australians recovered from battle, he was completing his last day of operational training. ‘No Hurricanes available. Had a Master and played about above a thick mist. Force landed at a new ‘drome about 30 miles from Bristol and also at Rissington and low flew up the Severn. Good fun.’ Now all he had to do was wait for a posting.

Vale Francis Walter Cale, 15 August 1940

Vale Francis Walter Cale 15 August 1940

Francis Walter Cale was born in Perth, Western Australia on 24 February 1915. His father, Walter, a railway refreshment room proprietor came from Rydal in New South Wales and his mother, Constance Simm, was born in Quirindi, also in New South Wales.

He attended Perth’s Guildford Grammar School 1928–1931, and his school years overlapped Dick Glyde’s, who was a student from 1927–1930. Francis was a day boy and a member of St George’s House. He was intelligent—he had been awarded the Blennerhassett Scholarship which was an academic scholarship—and he was sporty. He was a member of the school athletic team, and particularly noted for the hurdles. He had Full Colours, and so was allowed to have the athletics symbol embroidered on his blazer pocket. He passed the junior certificate and the 1st year leaving certificate.

After leaving Guildford he joined the Vacuum Oil Company as a clerk and completed the intermediate examination of the Federal Institute of Accountants as well as the final auditing unit and three law subjects.

He loved flying took lessons at Perth’s Maylands Aerodrome. Apparently he would fly over the Dunrees Golf Course and buzz his sisters as they played.   

While at Guildford, he joined the school cadet corps and, as an adult, he served a year with an artillery unit with the Citizen Military Forces and on 4 September 1937 enrolled as a Sergeant-Airman pilot with the Royal Australian Air Force Reserve. He was discharged on 28 February 1939 to take up a short service commission with the Royal Air Force. He sailed on the Ormonde, which left Melbourne on 31 January 1939. He was in the second last group of Australians to be accepted for short service commissions with the RAF. After completing his elementary flying training he was granted his commission in May 1939.

After completing his flying training he was posted to 266 Squadron in November 1939. The flight commanders were flight lieutenants James Coward and Ian ‘Widge’ Gleed.

The squadron went into action for the first time over Dunkirk on 2 June 1940, patrolling at 20,000 over the beach area from 7.45 hours to 8.30 hours. Of the twelve pilots who flew that day, eight engaged with the enemy ‘the definite results of these’, according to the Operations Record Book, ‘were difficult to obtain owing to the height at which the engagements took place and the large number of aircraft engaged in dog fights’.

266 Squadron, which was based at Wittering, carried out only a handful of patrols and raid investigations during June and July and the first half of August, with Francis flying most of them.

On 15 August, using almost its entire resources, the Luftwaffe launched a day-long series of attacks designed to saturate RAF defences. Almost all of Britain was within range of enemy bombers. Nine of 266 pilots were ordered up at midday and at 16.00 hours, they were again in the air to intercept enemy aircraft off Dover. It is not certain if Francis flew in the first encounter, but he scrambled in the afternoon. He encountered the enemy, was shot down. His burnt out Spitfire crashed on the banks of the Medway at Teston, near Maidstone. Later that evening, the county police reported that they had found his parachute, with the straps burnt but not sign of Francis. He was found the next day in the river and Teston. He had been married to Joan Perry, a fellow Western Australian who he had met in London, for just one month.

His fellow squadron member, Denis Armitage, remembered him as a much loved member of their little band of pilots. ‘It was terribly sad to lose him so early in the battle.

Francis Walter Cale was the sixth Australian entitled to the Battle of Britain clasp to be killed in Battle. He was buried in Westminster City Cemetery. His headstone was engraved ‘in loving memory of my dear husband’.