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31 October 2012: Australians and the Battle of Britain

31 October 2012: Australians and the Battle of Britain

This is my final daily post on the actions of John ‘Jack’ Connolly Kennedy, Stuart Crosby Walch, Richard ‘Dick’ Lindsay Glyde, Paterson Clarence Hughes, Kenneth Christopher Holland, John Dallas Crossman, William Henry Millington Jr, Peter John Moore, and Desmond Frederick Burt Sheen.

Farewell, men of honour and courage.

 

 

You can, however, read more of Jack, Stuart, Dick, John and Des in my Australian Eagles which will be released in July 2013. And in 2015, all going well, you will be able to read my detailed account of Nine of the Few.

And, as my research is continuing, I am sure I will have much more to say about Australia’s Battle of Britain pilots. Just not every day!

Vale all good and brave men who fought and died in the Battle of Britain, and after, and during all wars. They will be remembered.

And to ‘my’ nine Australian pilots of the Battle. All fought bravely and well, and helped to protect Britain from invasion. 72 years later, their contribution and sacrifice is still remembered. It has been a great joy and privilege for me to bring their stories to a wider readership.

 

 

Richard Lindsay Glyde

 

John Connolly Kennedy

 

 

Kenneth Christopher Holland

 

 

Paterson Clarence Hughes

Peter John Moore

 

Stuart Crosby Walch

 

Desmond Frederick Burt Sheen

 

William Henry Millington Jr

 

 

John Dallas Crossman

 

 

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 31 October 1940. Peter Moore.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 31 October 1940. Peter Moore.

On the last day of the Battle of Britain, Peter Moore was languishing in hospital, with his eyes bandaged.

The final Luftwaffe attacks on London on 30 October 1940 were, in Patrick’s Bishop’s words, a ‘half-hearted effort’, easily repulsed by ten patrolling squadrons, including 253 Squadron. B Flight was on readiness again and Peter flew three sorties that day. He scrambled for the first interception at 7.40 a.m. and landed at 9.35 a.m. not having sighted anything; he took off for another nil report interception at 11.40 a.m., landing only twenty-five minutes later; and he had little time to unwind or perhaps grab a hurried meal as the squadron was in the air again at 2.40 p.m. for a standing patrol at 20 000 feet on the Maidstone patrol line.

Pilot Officer Spencer Ritchie Peacock-Edwards, who had led the two earlier sorties, was again leading. He was Blue Leader and Peter was Blue Two. The squadron climbed to 19 000 feet and were joined by eight Hurricanes of 501 Squadron. Flying on a northerly course to London, 253 Squadron again varied the normal vic formation to two sections of four and one section of two with two Hurricanes weaving. The sections were flying in line astern when Control ordered them to increase height to 29 000 feet. The squadron was vectored south east and north and sighted 30–40 Messerschmitt 109s flying in two clumps at 27 000 feet, ranging from south east to north west. They appeared to be in no particular formation. Four of the Messerschmitt 109s were lagging behind. The squadron then moved into attack formation consisting of five pairs in deep echelon pair leaders in flat echelon one pair remaining up sun of leader. The tally ho was called and 253 and 501 squadrons attacked simultaneously with 253 attacking from three quarter astern and port from the sun side. When the 109s sighted the Hurricanes they dived for cloud cover at 8000 feet. The Hurricanes followed them and a general dog fight ensued.

Pilot Officer Peacock-Edwards followed one down and fired a short burst before his target disappeared into the clouds. He saw a large piece of silvery white fabric billow from the enemy aircraft as it disappeared in the cloud. He claimed this as a damaged. Pilot Officer Alan Eckford fired a 4−5 second burst at a 109. He first saw white smoke, then a little black smoke and then flames. Eckford’s 109 dived, with Eckford chasing it down. He saw the wreckage burning in a field four miles south of Meopham. The pilot had baled out and when Eckford approached him he held up his hands in surrender. Several other squadron pilots attacked the 109s and, although they thought that some had been severely damaged, there were no visible results.

Peter too struck at the enemy with little, if any effect. One of the 109s fired on him and he was struck. Oil was pouring all over the place and his Hurricane was not responding to his attempts to keep her fully under control. He attempted to bale out but he could not open the hood so realised he would have to land as best he could. He crashed Matilda—his Hurricane—in a field at Newbarn Farm, about 3.5 miles south of Gravesend, Kent. Matilda was recorded as category 2 damaged i.e. she suffered damage of such severity that she had to be sent either to a repair depot or back to manufacturer for repair. Some parts appear to have been souvenired while she awaited disposal to the repair depot and her radio mast is known to have made its way to a private collection.

And as for Peter, he too was damaged but repairable. There is no casualty record for 30 October 1940 but the 253 Squadron diarist recorded that Peter ‘suffered from conjunctival haemorrhage and contusion to the orbits’ and was admitted to the Kenley Station sick quarters. Peter returned to duty on 8 December. The medical language is a bit obtuse but it would seem he did more than ‘bang my head some’, as he admitted to his mother. Given that he admitted pulling up ‘fairly suddenly’ he would have suffered a significant facial/head impact, with at the very least bleeding, bruising and swelling or even fractured bones around his eyes. It is also possible that he lost consciousness when he hit his head. He would not have been a pretty sight when he made it to sick bay.

 

 

And so, the Battle of Britain was over. Of the ’30 or so’ Australians who had fought, 13 had died, one had been taken prisoner of war, and Peter Moore had bowed out, wounded. More were to die before the end of the war, including Pilot Officer Peter John Moore, who was listed missing in action on 3 June 1942. Des Sheen was the only one of ‘my’ pilots to survive the war. He went on to enjoy a happy marriage, a good career with the RAF and a satisfying ‘retirement’ in the British aviation industry. He died in 2001, aged 83. He ‘enjoyed every minute’ of his extensive and varied career with the RAF. ‘I was lucky all the way through with postings and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’

And what of Peter Moore, who survived the Battle of Britain, but not the war.

Recently promoted to Pilot Officer, he was posted to 616 Squadron on 29 March 1942, flying Spitfires. On the afternoon of 3 June 1942, the squadron were ordered, along with another squadron, on an offensive sweep over Le Touquet and Boulogne in northern France. Peter was flying Spitfire VI BR191.

They were operating as top cover to 12 Group Wing and there were two 11 Group wings below them. The whole formation proceeded to Boulogne and then turned south along the French coast.

Squadron Leader Brown was leading 616 Squadron and Peter was leading Yellow Section. By the time the formation reached Berck sur Mer, 616 had climbed to 25,000 feet. The whole formation then turned north again towards the Gravelines area and at about this point about twelve Messerschmitt 109s of Jagdgeschwader 26 off Griz Nez were spotted. The 109s were roughly the same height as 616 Squadron, on the starboard side, and they turned around to attack from behind. Peter was heard on the R/T instructing his section to break formation. Yellow Two later stated that he tried to follow Peter round as he broke but he was turning too steeply and got into a spin. He then lost sight of Peter. Yellow Three and Four formed a sub-section, broke correctly inside Peter and Yellow Two, and tried to attack any enemy aircraft in the vicinity but to no avail. Nothing but indecisive combats. As for Peter, nothing further was heard or seen of him. He just disappeared. His body was later washed ashore and he was buried in France.

In 1954, Peter’s mother contacted the Imperial War Graves Commission and made a contribution towards the cost of engraving the inscription on Peter’s headstone, in Etaples Military Cemetery: ‘“A Young Man Lingers Lightly Where he Dies’ Patrick Hore-Ruthven. RIP.”’ (The quote is from Hore-Ruthven’s poem ‘To a Young Man who Died’ written for Lieutenant Colonel Geoffrey Keyes who was killed at the age of 24 while he was leading a commando raid on Rommel’s headquarters in November 1941. It was published in The Happy Warrior. Poems, Angus and Robertson, Sydney, 1943.)

 

 

 

(Etaples Military Cemetery)

In September 2011, after a long standing oversight, the Australian War Memorial included Peter on its Commemorative Roll.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 30 October 1940. Bill Millington

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 30 October 1940. Bill Millington

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.

 

 

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 29 October 1940. Bill Millington

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 29 October 1940. Bill Millington

Did I say something about October being a quiet old time for the RAF with not much happening? Well, 249 Squadron’s experiences over the last few days puts the lie to the that, with the Luftwaffe putting on a show on 29 October that resulted in what 249 squadron diarist considered ‘a lively day for North Weald.

And indeed it was. Bill Millington was in the air four times that day. The first was an early morning solo patrol of North Weald. That was quiet, as was his second and third sorties. But, at about 16.40 p.m., when the squadron was ordered to patrol the base at 15,000 feet in company of 257 Squadron which had arrived at North Weald earlier that month, they encountered a nasty surprise.

As 249 were taking off, the aerodrome was dive-bombed by about twelve Me 109s which, at this stage of the war, had been adapted to carry bombs and act as ‘hit and run’ bombers. These twelve were under the protection of more 109s above. Red Section got off safely despite the falling bombs and Bill ‘took off as quickly as possible behind Red Section’.

As one 500 lb bomb landed in the middle of the aerodrome, Yellow Section ‘took right off over the exploding bomb’. Pilot Officer Lofts’s Hurricane was badly damaged but he was able to land safely. Sergeant Tich Palliser, who was already airborne, was hit by flying debris which knocked off part of his prop. To make matters worse, his engine was in bad shape so he circled the airfield and landed. And what a sight he saw.

The squadron diarist recorded that about 40 bombs were dropped in all. A hangar was destroyed, a lorry burst into flames and one bomb landing at the end of the station between the latrine and dining hall, resulting in a great deal of damage. One man, who was in the latrine at the time, was taken to hospital with shrapnel wounds and died the next day. 257’s casualties were much worse. Between the two squadrons, 19 were killed on the ground and 42 injured. Of those, according to Brian Cull, the squadron historian, six of the fatalities and 12 of the injured occurred on the airfield.

Meanwhile, in the air, Red Section gave chase to the departing raiders, which were heading west, with Bill following closely.

He was a little behind Red which were catching up to the Me 109s and so he ‘opened up to maximum speed’. By about 17.00 p.m. he had ‘gradually overhauled e/a which had climbed to 3000 feet’ above the coast west of Southminster. There he saw:

‘Four Me 109s in front with two He 113s [sic] weaving slightly behind. One Me 109 was lagging behind on the right and I formatted on him line astern and opened fire at about 100 yards.

E/a immediately dived for haze over the sea and I followed close behind, firing continuous burst. Large pieces flew off e/a and it disappeared, going vertically down into the haze at about 500 feet, emitting large quantities of black smoke.’

Attack all over by 17.15, Bill headed back to base, landing at 17.20 to an aerodrome which resembled the Biggin Hill blasts of late August, which Bill had witnessed with 79 Squadron.

Bill estimated that the Me 109 crashed into the sea near Buxey Sands, but he did not see it and so, he was credited with a probable Me 109.

Photo is of Bill Millington on his last day in civvies.  

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 29 October 1940. Peter Moore

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 29 October 1940. Peter Moore

On 29 October, during the Luftwaffe’s last substantial daylight effort, 253 Squadron scrambled three times and encountered the enemy in its third interception. At 4.30 p.m., eight Hurricanes left Kenley in company with 501 Squadron. They had been ordered to patrol the Kenley−Brooklands line at 15,000 feet. Peter, in his third sortie of the day, was flying Hurricane V7301.

Looking back over his time in 253 Squadron, John Greenwood, who had been with the squadron since it reformed in late October 1939, recalled that throughout the Battle of Britain 253 had clung to the rigid Fighting Area Attacks they had practised so diligently in pre-war training. Because of the hectic days it had had no opportunity or time to change. Greenwood recalled that:

‘Our tactics remained the same throughout the Battle, four flights of three aircraft, in vic formation, which could be either turned into either line abreast or line astern for attacking purposes. It showed no imagination, it was discussed between us several times, but nothing was done.’

Despite this recollection, it seems that by late October, the squadron had implemented some changes to battle formation. On 29 October, the squadron flew with one section of four and line astern of it was another section of two. Two pilots were acting as weavers, keeping a close eye out for the enemy. The squadron climbed to 21,000 feet and there altered the formation to three pairs in a shallow vic, but still with the weavers. Near Dover 501, Squadron attacked a formation of Messerschmitt 109s at 15,000.

During their attack, 253 sighted eighteen 109s in two formations of nine at 28,000 and 30,000 feet. The first gaggle of Messerschmitts was flying in a wide fan to 253’s west. The second was position in two lines abreast of five and four astern. 253 continued to climb and when it was at 27,000 feet circled beneath both enemy formations whilst 501 Squadron engaged and dispersed Messerschmitts at 15,000 feet.

The two formations above 253 Squadron then turned south east and east. 253 found it impossible to engage either formation so split into pairs to hunt isolated enemy aircraft. One of the weavers, Pilot Officer Guy Marsland, sighted one of the Messerschmitts at 16,000 feet travelling south towards Horsham. He closed and attacked from slightly below and astern. The enemy aircraft did a half roll and the Horsham Observer Corps later reported a crashed 109 at the time of engagement. Pilot Officer Nowak sighted a Dornier Do 17 (or Z) at 200 feet with a Spitfire circling above it about 1000 feet, apparently out of ammunition. Nowak delivered four separate attacks and the Dornier crashed into the sea.

The pilots landed between 17.25 and 17.35 p.m., when Peter Moore landed. The squadron had suffered no losses and claimed Marsland’s destroyed over land and Nowak’s Dornier. There is no combat report for Peter and he is not mentioned in the squadron’s operation record book so if his machine gun fire had struck at any enemy aircraft no noticeable damage had been done. But he had finally encountered the enemy, and he had survived.

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 28 October 1940. Bill Millington

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 28 October 1940. Bill Millington

Bill Millington’s success on 25 October was a prelude to a busy end of the month, where every flying skill would be tested.

Mid-morning on 28 October 19410, a solo Dornier Do 17 had been clocked near 249 Squadron’s base at North Weald. It was the second of the day—the first had been despatched by Tom Neil in an early morning attack. 249 were scrambled at 9.50 a.m. and were patrolling above the clouds when the Dornier dropped its load and disappeared. Bill was Blue 1, and acting as weaver.

The weaver, usually part of a pair, flew independently above and behind the main formation, tasked with keeping an eye out for the enemy and providing rear protection to his confreres. Although the weavers were usually the pilots with the best eyesight and situational awareness, it was not a highly sought-after position as many inexperienced pilots were easily picked off because, in watching everyone else’s backs, they could not concentrate on their own.

Indeed, according to Australian ace Clive Caldwell, who often carried out this task in his 1941 desert sorties, this ‘really was a dangerous position’ and more often than not, the rest of the squadron or flight would only know that they were under attack, not because the weaver had spotted something, but because ‘the warning came by seeing one or both the weavers spinning past in flames’.

The hapless pilots acting as weavers were often referred to as Tail End Charlies (Bomber Command used the same nickname for its rear gunners). But, as Caldwell also acknowledged, if the weavers were good, and the position used correctly, the Charlies could be very effective. 

And so, on 28 October, Bill, who had developed his eye sight and gunnery skills while rabbit hunting in the Adelaide hills, had the honour of the most dangerous position in the squadron. What did he make of it?

He was patrolling in Hurricane flying in V7677 above the cloud near Hawkinge. At about 10.10 a.m.:

‘Control reported bandit coming south west about ten miles north east of us. I sighted the Do 17 as it broke cloud about three miles to the north east.’

The Dornier was at about 9000 feet, and so Bill:

‘Started to dive towards it and reported position to leader, Red 1. Two bursts of AA fire close to e/a drew attention of Red 1 to e/a and three more aircraft were despatched. I dived on e/a from above and behind, opening fire at about 200 yards. Bullets could be seen penetrating rear turret and I closed to about 50 yards before breaking away. Lack of fire from rear turret leads me to believe that rear gunner was killed.’

Which was just as well, because, if he were alive, he would not have been able to miss Bill at 50 yards. But back to Bill’s commentary.

‘E/A streamed white smoke and vanished in clouds but smoke had vanished when it again appeared. E/A escaped in clouds.

Yellow 1 [Pilot Officer Neil] then joined me and, on instructions from Controller, we orbited at 12,000 feet position near Dungeness.

We sighted a Ju 88 occasionally breaking cloud coming from the north, waited for it to come into the clear and attacked from above. Yellow 1 came in behind e/a and I carried out a quarter attack from above, allowing full deflection and, with a long burst, fixed his starboard engine. As I was out of ammunition I made a few dummy attacks from above to keep gunner engaged while Yellow 1 continued.

Yellow 1 killed rear gunner and there appeared to be a small explosion in rear of fuselage. E/A was heading south east, streaming white smoke. When out of ammunition we broke off.’

The Ju 88 was then sighted by Pilot Officer McConnell, Yellow 3, who ‘finished off e/a, crashing in area 10–15 miles south east of Dungeness’.

Brave Bill Millington had perfected his art as a fighter pilot. Not only was he prepared to go in close for his attack on one enemy aircraft but he was willing to continue feinting with another to keep the gunner occupied, despite running out of ammunition, so that Tom Neil could have his chance at it.

According to Bill’s combat report, the two attacks, with the intervening brief orbit of Dungeness, were all over within 30 minutes. He was on the ground again at 11.10 a.m. and heard the news that he was credited with a damaged Dornier and a 1/4 share in the Ju 88. And then he was in the air again from 15.45 to 17.15 on a squadron patrol of Maidstone. 

Bill’s partner in success, Tom Neil, told me he remembered this occasion, as one of two ‘rather special days’ that he takes pleasure in remembering.

‘I recall reliving these and other events with him with some glee when we discussed them later, he being especially animated, as he appeared to enjoy flying as my partner on that and other occasions, and often told me so.’

Bill Millington: a keen-eyed rabbit and e/a hunter.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 27 October 1940. Peter Moore

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 27 October 1940. Peter Moore

Peter Moore at 253 Squadron had a rest from ops on 23 October. Then, between 24 and 26 October, flew six nil report sorties, all in Hurricane L1666. On 27 October, he carried out two more non-eventful sorties but this time he had replaced L1666 for V7301, which now became ‘his’ Hurricane.

Peter dubbed V7301 ‘Matilda’ in homage to one of his homeland’s favourite bush songs and unofficial anthem. In fact, during his time with 253 Squadron—until he was posted to 616 Squadron on 29 March 1942—he was allocated eight Hurricanes and he dubbed all of them Matilda. Their fates make interesting reading.

He lost V7301 when he was shot down in her. He lost Matilda II, in which he had done over a 100 trips, when she was crashed by a new pilot who had spun in on the approach from a few 100 feet, but fortunately was not killed. Matilda III was replaced when 253 Squadron was allocated Hurricane Mark IIs. He lost Matilda IV, which had twelve guns, through engine failure when a fellow pilot forced landed at another aerodrome. Matilda V also had twelve guns and Peter thought her ‘a wizard’ but she was sent to Russia. VI and VII were old ones that he had only a while before they had to have overhauls and Matilda VIII was ‘a four cannon job’ with much more power. The majority of Peter’s flying career was spent on Hurricanes and overall, he thought them ‘wizard’. He was obviously fond of his Matildas. But like many pilots, he did not regret the change to Spitfires when he went to 616 Squadron.

Photo is of Peter and (probably) Matilda VIII, taken after he was commissioned in January 1942 and before his posting to 616 Squadron in March 1942.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 26 October 1940. Bill Millington

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 26 October 1940. Bill Millington

Bill Millington flew again on 26 October but, after the excitement of the day before, there was nothing of note to report. And given that that is the case yet again, I want to talk about Bill Millington as a ‘knight of the air’; a man of chivalry.

During the Great War, the first aerial combatants were vaunted as ‘knights of the air’ who carried out chivalrous deeds to foe and comrade alike. Films, such as Knights of the Air and Dawn Patrol were made and memoirs and biographies were published, all influencing the next generation of fighter pilots who were, indeed, considered the legitimate heirs of the Great War aerial knights.

Bill was one who saw Dawn Patrol, considered by at least one commentator to have done more to influence the image of the aerial knight in the eyes of a younger generation, to be a ‘very good show’. But, although he had wanted to fly from a young age, he was less influenced by the Great War pilots than by Robert Stephenson Smyth Baden-Powell, hero of the siege of Mafeking, Great War soldier, founder of the scout movement, and member of latter day chivalric orders The Most Distinguished Order of Saint Michael and Saint George, Royal Victorian Order and The Most Honourable Order of the Bath.

 

Bill joined the scout movement, graduating from cubs, to scout, to rover, and won many achievement badges. His personal creed was based on the strong moral principles enshrined in scout law.

Pilots of the Battle of Britain, in particular, were presented as scions of chivalry and Bill, for one, lived up to this unasked-for appellation.

In June 1940, he had yet to fly his first operational sortie but he knew the dangers of battle and wanted to salve his family’s grief should he not return from combat. And so he wrote a farewell letter. As well as offering comfort to his parents, Bill clearly stated the principles by which he lived his life—‘Freedom, Honour and Fair Play’—and how he wanted to prosecute his war. ‘Since leaving home I have endeavoured to live up to those standards dictated by Honour and Chivalry, and am sure that I have not failed you’.

And he did live up to his ideals.

On 31August 1940, 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 Dorniers. Three Me 109s then attacked him. He damaged one and shook off the other two. He was on his own by that stage but attacked the bombers again and was beset by another 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 plummetted in flames and, ‘covered in blood and grease’ he ‘managed to scramble out before the machine exploded’.

Bill received the award of an immediate Distinguished Flying Cross for this action, including specifically his valiant deed:

‘Despite the fact that he was wounded by cannon shrapnel in the left thigh, Millington chose to make a crash landing rather than abandon his aircraft and let it fall in flames into a village which was in front of him.’

Asked about his dangerous and apparently foolhardy action of continuing his attack on the bombers, he later said ‘what is one fighter compared with a German bomber’.

This was the sort of young man Bill Millington was. A man of ideals, chivalry, and the personal commitment to live up to his values. A fine, upstanding man. And he was a d@mned good fighter pilot.

 

 

Seeking photos of 19 Squadron, 46 Squadron, 65 Squadron, 151 Squadron and 238 Squadron pre and during Battle of Britain

Aviation fans and Battle of Britain friends: can you help?

My publisher is giving me the almost untold luxury these days of allowing me all the photos I want in Australian Eagles. And so, I have sent him a wonderful photographic file with lots and lots of exciting images. But sadly, very few of them are of relevant aircraft. My photo sources have largely been the family photo albums, including snaps taken by ‘my’ pilots but, the busier they got, the less time they had to take photos. And of course, many taken did not make it back to Australia.

But I am confident that lots of other photos exist, from their squadron friends and crown copyrighted (which conveniently expired after 70 years) Air Ministry photographers. Perhaps they are in your collections!

And so, I would appreciate it if you could have a flick through your albums, or scroll through your digital photo archive to see if you have any of these photos:

238 Squadron Hurricanes: May 1940–August 1940 (before they transferred to St Eval) (I won’t even dream of a 238 Spit!)

65 Squadron Gladiators or Hurricanes: 19 December 1937–15 May 1940.

46 Squadron Hurricane from September 1940 (or at least just before September)

19 Squadron Gauntlets or Spitfires (preferably the latter): Sept 1937–11 November 1939 or Spitfires in the period 27 June 1940–31 August 1940.

151 Squadron Guantlet January 1938–December 1938 or Hurricane December 1938–15 May 1940, before they went to France.

Pre or war codes, on the ground or in the air, one or many, it does not matter. As long as there is at least one complete aircraft in the image.

Funds are limited but I can offer in exchange: appropriate photo credit and inclusion in the acknowledgements of Australian Eagles, a complementary copy (signed by moi), undying gratitude, and the hope that I might be able to return a favour sometime in the future.

So, start flipping and scrolling. I have my fingers crossed that someone will be able to help.

And here’s one I do have: Stuart Walch and the nose and prop of his 151 Squadron Hurricane.

 

 

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 25 October 1940. Bill Millington

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 25 October 1940.

What with leave and uneventful patrols, Bill Millington had been having a quiet time with 249 Squadron at North Weald since 7 October when he was credited with a probably destroyed Me 109. But things were about to change.

On 25 October, he was in the air three times but the most exciting sortie for him was the second outing of the day, when 249 teamed up with 46 Squadron for a patrol over North Weald. Bill’s flight took off at 11.25 a.m. and the rest of the squadron followed five minutes later. He was Blue Leader of the rear guard section and flying Hurricane P3463.

After rendezvousing with 46 Squadron, they climbed to 25,000 feet to patrol the Woolwich–Gravesend–Sevenoaks line. At about mid-day they spotted a formation of 15 Me 109Es of II/JG26 flying below them. As the main formation of Hurricanes chased the main body of enemy aircraft, the Messerschmitts, in the words of the squadron diarist, ‘turned and fled for the coast’. But not all dived towards the Sussex coast on their way back to France. Some of the Me 109Es had been lurking above and, as the Hurricanes chased, they pounced on Bill’s rearguard section when they were about 12 miles north of Hastings.

I am not sure how many Mes dived and joined battle but Bill claimed on his combat report that they were ‘innumerable’. No doubt, it was hard to count accurately when you had a determined enemy aircraft on your tail.

But back to the battle. Bill’s rear guard section broke their formation after the Me 109Es attacked and, according to Bill:

General dog fight ensued. I carried out an astern attack from slightly below Me 109 firing from about 50 yards. E/A unaware of my presence. Large pieces flew off and E/A dived steeply through clouds and quantities of black smoke pouring from it. Presumably crashed in vicinity or in sea near Hastings’.

 

Back at dispersal at 12.35 p.m., the boys discussed their actions and totted up their claims. Bill recorded a probable Me 109 but there was no rest for the not-so-wicked. He was back in the air at 14.55 to patrol Stapleford.

Australians in the Battle of Britain. John Crossman

On 18 October, I was advised that an anonymous friend of John Crossman had placed an 'In Remembrance' tribute to him at the foot of the Forest Row War Memorial.

 

John will always be loved and remembered. His sacrifice will not be forgotten.   

 

 

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 24 October 1940. John Crossman

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 24 October 1940.

I have mentioned this before, but I think it warrants repeating given I can find nothing of interest operationally speaking for the Australian boys on 24 October: Flight magazine confidently asserted in its 24 October issue that ‘the Battle of Britain has been won by the Fighter Command, and...what is now going on is mere nuisance raiding, not intended to prepare the way for an invasion of this island’.

And so, yet again, I look backwards to discover what was happening 12 months ago on 24 October 1939.

John Crossman, who died in battle on 30 September 1940, arrived at the initial training wing established at Cambridge University on 16 October 1939. His quarters in Jesus College were ‘quite decent except that beds not so comfortable’. It was springtime back home in Australia but John did not miss the buds of renewed life. He discovered that ‘Cambridge is a very beautiful place especially just now as all the leaves are falling and are most beautiful colours’.

By 24 October he had well settled in but, as he wrote home to his family to tell them about life at Cambridge, it wasn’t all autumn leaves and roses.

‘The RAF have been given half of each of nine colleges and we sleep two in a room. When I saw two in room I should say a flat. The flat consists of a bedroom, sitting room and kitchen but we don’t cook our own meals...Our rooms are quite decent and we have in our rooms a lounge and two lounge chairs, a carpet, table, writing table, sideboard and a very good fireplace which, as you can guess we don’t hesitate to use...

We rise at about seven, have a bath and shave and go along for breakfast at about eight. After breakfast we parade at about nine and then march off to one of the other colleges (generally to Downing or Emanuel) for lectures. The lectures are either in Morse or navigation and we sometimes have an ARP lecture.

When I write of lectures I should say that they are supposed to be lectures. Really the whole thing is an absolute farce as the stuff we get is usually about first year high school standard and more often than not there is no lecture when we do get there.

Actually the place is just a place to quarter us until we are ready to go on to the flying training school or until they are ready to take us there.

After our lectures which last until about twelve we come back to Jesus College for lunch and parade again at about two and go for more lectures. We came back again at about four and the rest of our time is our own until ten thirty at night when we must be in bed unless we have special late leave.

...We are all pretty fed up with going along to have a lecture on some subject and finding we have to sit in the sun (when there is any) for an hour or so until it is time to come back for lunch...Jack [his friend Jack Burraston] and I feel pipped to think that we put in at least an hour’s study almost every day on the boat and so far have had no call to use any of the stuff we worked on...’

Oh dear.

 

 

A very young looking John at Cambridge. That coat was one of the few of John's possessions to make it back to Australia after his death, rather than being sold off.