Thursday, 6 September 2012

7 September 1940. Richard Carew Reynell


7 September was a day Fighter Command would not forget. 15 pilots were dead or missing. On top of this, 39 aircraft crashed or were damaged, although their pilots were safe. And of course, London burned.

Pat Hughes was not the only son of the Southern Cross to die in battle. 28 years old Flight Lieutenant Richard Carew Reynell, a Hawker test pilot recently attached to 43 Squadron for operational experience, was also killed.
 
 
Richard—Dickaboo to the family and Dick or Dickie to his friends—was born on 9 January 1912. His father, Carew Reynell, scion of a great South Australian winemaking family, was killed leading a charge on Hill 60 at Gallipoli on 27 August 1915. Young Richard spent much time in England as a child and at one point was enrolled in The Golden Parsonage, Hamel Hamstead. He spent two years there before returning to Australia in 1925 where he attended the prestigious Collegiate School of St Peter, Adelaide as a weekly boarder, leaving at the conclusion of the first term in 1928. Richard’s mother had long planned to send her son to his father’s old school; on 5 June 1923 St Peter’s Headmaster wrote to her telling her ‘’ It will be pleasant to have a boy trained in an English preparatory School.’

Pleasant perhaps, but Richard’s time at St Peter’s was not overly successful. His attendance for much of 1925 was irregular due to ‘ill-health’, but this did not stop him from being cox in a winning rowing crew. He also had long periods off in 1926 and again in 1927, where he had at least two periods of absence as a consequence of ‘an acute septic condition of his right leg.’ Despite his absences, he managed to carry off that year’s physics prize. His final report in 1928 stated that he was capable of ‘very good work’ (as indicated by the physics prize) but that he also ‘had periods of complete lack of energy—which he should guard against.’

Despite an uninspiring stint at St Peter’s, Richard was accepted into Oxford University, to study agriculture at Balliol College in 1929. (His uncle, South Australia’s 1906 Rhodes Scholar, was also a Balliol man.) Richard joined the Oxford University Air Squadron, and attended the 1930 camp at Manston. Flight Magazine commented at the time that it was surprising more Oxford men did not apply for RAF commissions. Perhaps Richard read this as he was granted a commission as Pilot Officer in the Reserve of Air Force Officers on 24 March 1931. A short service commission followed on 28 September 1931 (at that point he relinquished his commission in the RAFO). After training at 5 Flying Training School, Sealand he was posted to 43 Squadron on 8 March 1932. He was later posted to the Station Flight at Duxford where he worked with Jeffrey Quill, trying to carry out a year’s meteorological flights without missing a day. From there he joined the instructing staff at 8 Flying Training School, Montrose. He returned to the RAFO on 15 January 1937 and joined Hawker Aircraft as a test pilot.

Richard was a skilled and daring pilot, featuring often in the pages of Flight Magazine. He was recognised widely as a superb demonstration pilot and his judgement of speed and height was perfect. He was not just a showman. He had a high degree of skill and accuracy and a personal pride in ensuring perfection.

At the opening of Derby’s airport in June 1939, Richard opened with a long power dive in his Hurricane, ending in more successive upward rolls than the Flight correspondent thought possible. He also carried out a series of effective vertical high-speed turns round the inside of the aerodrome boundary. Again, the Flight correspondent was astounded, never having seen a modern fighter flick-rolled. ‘No one who had the good fortune to witness it is ever likely to forget his performance on the Hurricane at the Brussels show’ in July 1939. His aerobatic display was one of the high spots of the day, eliciting gasps then uncontrolled applause from the spectators. ‘At one moment horror swept through the whole assembly; the Hurricane was diving vertically with engine off and when two very large sheets of flame licked along the fuselage. But [Richard] pulled out and rocketed past, whipping over into a vertical turn at fantastic speed.’


Still on the RAFO at the outbreak of war, he was seconded to Hawkers to continue his test pilot duties. On 26 August 1940 he was attached to his old squadron at Tangmere, for operational duties and to get first-hand experience on the problems experienced by fighter pilots in battle. Charles Palliser had arrived at 43 Squadron on 18 August. He told me that Richard was very tall and Charles, at 5 ft 6 in, if not the smallest on the squadron, was certainly close to it. There was an age difference with Charles only 21, but looking much younger and Richard looked all of his 28 years. Richard may have spent many years in England but he had not lost his Australian sense of humour and so asked Charles if he was only 14, as he looked so young. South African Caesar Hull, the new CO who joined the squadron at the end of the month took up the joke and asked if they were being sent kids to fill the ranks now!

The next day, in Hurricane Y7257, Richard carried out an operational sortie from 12.45 to 13.30 p.m. Later that afternoon he carried out a practice flight in the same Hurricane. He was in the air again on the 28th, again for a practice flight in V7257 and later to fly R5198 to Brooklands and back. He carried out another operational sortie on the 29th, two on the 30th and 1 on the 1st of September. It seemed that V7257 was ‘his’. He flew two ops on 2 September and on one of them notched up a destroyed Me 109. It was his first and only victory. He ‘got his [the Me’s] engine, and followed him until he crashed in a small field. The machine broke up completely but I saw the pilot being helped away by a couple of farm hands. I don’t know how he got out of it but he did’.

Stephen Bungay noted that 43 Squadron was the hardest worked squadron at this time, and Richard for one was working hard. After a break from flying on the 3rd, he flew four sorties between 4 and 6 September. On 7 September he carried out an airframe and engine test in V7257 in the morning then two operational sorties in the afternoon, before taking off at 16.40 p.m. to intercept and enemy raid in the Thames Estuary. He was shot down in combat with Me 109s over south London. He was wounded and baled out. His parachute failed to open and he plummeted to his death, landing near Greyladies. Hurricane V7257 crashed at Crown Point, Blackheath.

There is a suggestion that Richard should not have made that last fateful flight. Apparently, he had received a letter from Hawkers ordering him to return immediately to resume his test flying. But London was threatened, all available aircraft had to assist with her defence and so, Richard engaged in battle one last time. Richard’s was not 43 Squadron’s only death that day. Squadron Leader Caesar Hull also fell in battle and there is another suggestion that he may have sacrificed his own life in a bid to save Richard’s. I leave this to Richard’s biographer to explore this.

There is no doubt that Richard was a superb pilot but did a fighter pilot require a different skillset from the test pilot if he wanted to survive? Again, I leave that to Richard’s biographer to explore and here simply repeat the accolades heaped on Richard by his friends and flying colleagues. Geoffrey de Havilland considered him ‘an excellent test pilot and a gallant gentleman’. Hector Bolitho rated him ‘one of the finest pilots in the country’. Charles Palliser was in awe at Richard’s considerable flying experience. A close friend had:

‘yet to meet a finer character, nor have I ever known anyone who threw so much energy into whatever he turned his hand to, whether it was flying aeronautics, ski-ing, sailing or any other subject, problem or hobby. He never seemed to let anything get him down, and he had to go on until he knew as much about the job as anyone else. His energy was unbounded; he took an almost childish delight in his successes and was incapable of conceit of any kind.’

Richard was survived by his wife Marjorie, who had hoped to celebrate her second wedding anniversary in less than three weeks, and their son.

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