22 September 1940

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 22 September 1940

Ken Holland was resilient and bounced back from his ticking off the day before. Nothing dented his natural enthusiasm for long. There was no flying for him (although ‘Deanesley and Bayles [were] shot up by a Ju 88 which got away’) so he had a ‘sleepy day’. As he lolled around, there was ‘bags of panic in the afternoon about invasion’ but he did not take it seriously. He had plans to go into Weymouth for a few quiet drinks with friends. As had happened so often before, Ken’s outing turned into a late night (sorry, early morning) drinking session and he turned in at 2.00 a.m. 

 

Meanwhile, at Stapleford Tawney, John Crossman was also having a quiet day. ‘No flying today. Very low mist ceiling zero. Visibility Zero’. Even so, John was rostered on and still had to hang around dispersal just in case the Luftwaffe put in an appearance. But instead of sitting with his new squadron friends who were ‘very decent and we all get on very well’ John sat in his car, which was parked in the general dispersal area, and caught up with his letter writing, including one to his parents where he filled them in on his recent change of squadrons and his flying activities.

He told them that he had been in action a number of times now, and had regularly carried out operational sorties with 46 Squadron. He had successfully put aside his initial fear and air fighting now, ‘is not very worrying...one gets used to it and regards it as more or less just doing a job of work’.

Of great importance to John in keeping the fear at bay and ensuring he could carry out that job of work, was his new kite. V6748 was not just his pride and joy, it was his strength. He hold his family that:

‘I absolutely mother and keep it in tip top condition. My mechanics are just beginning to get used to my ways and are keeping things clean now without being told. It is well worth it because now I know that everything is at its best and I can’t have things better. I spend most of my spare time on my aeroplane with the result that when I go into combat I have ever so much more confidence.’

John loved his RAF life. It was something he had dreamed of since childhood and now, despite the war, despite being far from his home and missing his family and their letters which were chasing him all around the country as he moved from squadron to training school, from squadron to squadron and from one end of the country to the other, despite an indefinite separation from his fiancée, he was fulfilled. He tried to impart a sense of this to the folks back home:

‘I hope I will never have to leave the RAF. There’s something about the service that gets into one’s blood and these days I get a very satisfied feeling.’  

It seems this letter to his family was his last and, although he did not pen it as a final farewell, the passages quoted above are extremely poignant in light of what will happen before the month is out.

 

 

John Crossman from a more carefree time, on a bush picnic, before he sailed to the UK.