On 30 October 1940—during a day
that Tom Neil would later recall as ‘a miserable, bitty and perfectly
bloody day—23
year-old Pilot Officer William Henry Millington, Jr, DFC, took off on his last
sortie.
The squadron was patrolling North
Weald aerodrome at midday, at about 20,000 feet. Then, according to the
squadron diarist:
‘8–10 Messerschmitt 109s [were]
sighted at 28,000 feet. These enemy aircraft scattered and individual chases
took place. Pilots noticed that groups of 109s repeatedly flew out to sea and
then turned back again as if to entice others out to sea.’
It seems, according to squadron
historian Brian Cull, that Bill succumbed to the enticement as, after ‘finding
himself caught up in a series of sporadic actions...over the Channel...[h]is
aircraft was last seen chasing a German fighter out to sea; it is believed Bill
was the victim of Fw Bielefeldt of 3 Staffel [I/JG51] who claimed a Hurricane
at about this time.’
The strange thing of it is, that
Tom Neil, who had taken off on the same patrol but had to return to base with
engine trouble, was not entirely convinced about the enticement scenario:
‘It was said on that fatal day that the Hun 109s enticed our squadron
out into the Channel, and it may be so, although it is probably just
conjecture. Much more certain is the fact that, if the Hurricanes were at
28,000 feet—which apparently they were—they were far above their best operating
height and were fighting at a great disadvantage.’
Certainly, Tom did not recall anything
of Bill forsaking normal fighter practice and ‘being
particularly individualistic, or going off at dawn on special lone forays, as
has been suggested. He may have done so but I can’t bring any such incidents to
mind’.
On that sad day, ‘with the loss of Bill Millington
especially upsetting’, Tom could barely believe that Bill was missing: ‘I always DID feel that he was sufficiently competent and experienced NOT
to be shot down, so it came as something of a shock when he disappeared when
over the Channel.’
Tom hoped that Bill would turn up but ‘the fact that he
had been over the Channel seemed to reduce that possibility’.
Bill’s disappearance was felt by all. As Tich Palliser
recalled it, ‘the whole squadron was sick when Bill was lost; he had been well
liked, was a nice lad and had made a great impression on the squadron. He was
very much missed.’
And indeed he
was especially missed by his furred and feathered friends. According to Tom
Neil: ‘In dispersal the little dog Pipsqueak and Wilfred the duck wandered
about, mournful reminders of their absent master. If only they knew! But,
perhaps they did.’
From his first
victory on 9 July 1940, Bill had accumulated a total of 9 and 2 shared
destroyed, 4 probables and 3 damaged. He had lived his life under the
principles of Scout Law, in particular ‘Freedom, Honour
and Fair Play’ and, since leaving his family to go to England to serve his
mother land, he ‘had endeavoured to live up to those standards dictated by
Honour and Chivalry’. He was sure that he had not failed his parents in living
up to these ideals. In a final accolade from his squadron friend Tom Neil, it
is clear he had not:
‘I knew him to be a brave and capable colleague and friend, who fought
with distinction and was a credit to himself, to his parents, and to all who
were close to him. He served both Britain and Australia well. He answered the
call to arms and gave all he had to give—with good grace and with cheerful
willingness. And as they might well be tempted to say in Australia, ‘G’d on yer,
mate!’
Bill Millington,
born in Newcastle UK and raised in Edwardstown South Australia disappeared
without a trace. On this, the second last day of the Battle of Britain, and the
last day of 249 Squadron’s operations in the Battle—there was bad weather and
no activity on the 31st—Bill became the 13th Australian entitled to the Battle
of Britain Clasp to die. He is remembered on Panel 9 of the Runnymede Memorial.
Vale Bill.
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