Australia's Few. 31 October 1940

And so, on 31 October 1940, the Battle of Britain was over. Of the ’30 or so’ Australians who had fought 13 had died and one had been taken prisoner of war. 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 one who survived 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.’

 

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, and Desmond Frederick Burt Sheen.

All fought bravely and well, and helped to protect Britain from invasion. 73 years later, their contribution and sacrifice is still remembered. They will continue to be remembered. It has been a great joy and privilege for me to bring their stories to a wider readership and I look forward to extending that readership when NewSouth Books publishes my account of the experiences of Jack, Stuart, Dick, Pat, Ken, John, Bill and Des.

 

 

Farewell, men of honour and courage. 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.

 

 

Australia's Few. 30 October 1940

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.

 

 

Australia's Few. 29 October 1940

The Luftwaffe put on a show on 29 October 1940that 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. 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.’

 

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.

 

 

Australia's Few: 28 October 2013

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.’

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

 

 

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.

 

 

 

Defending Britain: Australia's Few and the Battle of Britain

I am thrilled to announce that  Newsouth Publishing, a division of the University of New South Wales Press, will publish my book on eight Australian fighter pilots in the Battle of Britain. The manuscript, dubbed by me as Australia's Few currently has a provisional title of Defending Britain: Australia's Few and the Battle of Britain.

 

It won't be long before the full stories of Australian Battle of Britain pilots John Connolly (Jack) Kennedy, Stuart Crosby Walch, Richard Lindsay (Dick) Glyde, Paterson Clarence (Pat) Hughes, Kenneth Christopher (Ken) Holland, John Dallas Crossman, William Henry (Bill) Millington Jr and Desmond Frederick Burt (Des) Sheen will be told.

 

I have to deliver the manuscript by the end of February 2014 and am currently finishing off the last chapter before I do a big edit/revision. If anyone has any information about these pilots they wish to share, please contact me as soon as possible.

 

Australia's Few. 9 October 1940

Bill Millington had a quieter day on 9 October 1940. 249 Squadron only flew one patrol to Biggin Hill, commencing at 3.00 p.m. and ending at 4.45 p.m. Yet again, no action. The time not spent filling out his combat report meant he could play with his new friends. Tom Neil recalled that Bill was ‘keen on animals and I believe it was he who introduced Pipsqueak, the dog, and Wilfred, the duck, to the squadron’ about this time.

 

 

Bill and Pipsqueak.

Australia's Few. 8 October 1940

Bill Millington and 249 Squadron continued to be busy. On 8 October, flying V6692 on every occasion, Bill carried out four patrols: the first, at 7.35 a.m., a 45 minute patrol to Rochford; the second, at 9.00, a 55 minute patrol of Hornchurch and Biggin Hill; the third, at 12.20 p.m., another 55 minute patrol of Hornchurch and Biggin Hill; and the final one for the day, a 30 minute two-man patrol. Yet again no action and, yet again, little break between sorties.

 

 

Australia's Few. 7 October 1940

7 October was a busy day for Bill Millington, where he flew four operational sorties with little rest in between. The first, in Hurricane V7677, was a bright-and-early 6.30 a.m. 95 minute two-man patrol of the east coast with Sergeant Davidson. The second, this time in Hurricane V6692, was a shorter mid-morning 40 minute squadron patrol of Rochford. The third, again to Rochford, and again in V6692 was a 45 minute post-lunch sortie. These three patrols were all uneventful.

65 minutes after he landed from the second Rochford patrol, Bill and the squadron were again in the air. This time, they, along with 46 Squadron, were tasked with patrolling Maidstone. They were north of Ashford, Kent when 20–30 Messerschmitt 109s in a loose formation were seen. A squadron of Spitfires was also in the vicinity and had engaged with the enemy fighters. At about 4.15, 46 and 249 squadrons joined in the dogfight at about 21,000 feet. The formations started to break up and Bill, who was Green One, targeted one of the 109s: 

‘I chased a Me 109 which dived steeply down. I left him to a Spitfire and climbed back to about 22,000 feet into the sun and dived down on a Me 109 which broke off his attack and turned steeply in front of me, offering a plain view of his underside at point blank range. I gave him a short burst and he turned on his back and dived steeply down, emitting black smoke.’

Bill did not see his target crash as he was ‘tackled by two Spitfires so broke off the engagement’. The battle then broke up, due, in Bill’s opinion, ‘to the Spitfires mistaking Hurricanes for Me 109s and attacking them’ but by that stage, ‘approximately 20 [Me 109s] were above at 26–30,000 feet in loose formation roughly heading for the French coast.’

By this stage of his career, Bill had well and truly honed his fighter pilot skills. He had climbed to take advantage of height and sun, then dived and fired at point blank range. He may not have seen the final fate of his target but the black smoke was a clear sign that it was out of the battle.

Bill was credited with a probably destroyed Me 109.

 

 

Australia's Few. 5 October 1940

On 5 October 1940, a small notice appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald’s Roll of Honour:

‘September 25, 1940, killed in action. Sgt-Pilot Ken C Holland RAF, only son of Mr and Mrs H G Holland of 11 King Street Bondi.’

Vibrant, happy-go-lucky Ken Holland, the only son of Harold and Ina Holland, had died. Indeed, their only child.

 

 

Australia's Few. 4 October 1940

4 October was a miserable day weather-wise with no flying for 249 Squadron except for a fruitless attempt by Flying Officer George Barclay and Pilot Officer Tom Neil to intercept four bandits. There was no opportunity for Bill to advance his personal tally or for the squadron to make a bid for first place in the October league table. But not to worry, it would not be too long before Bill Millington had an opportunity to score again.

In the interim, Bill would share in the celebrations—‘great jubilations and a most monumental party’, as George Barclay put it—for four of his new friends who had received happy news and just rewards for their skilful flying: Flight Lieutenant ‘Butch’ Barton and Flying Officer Keith Lofts had been awarded DFCs, Pilot Officer Albert Lewis (who was in hospital after baling out badly burned on 28 September) had received a bar to his DFC, and Sergeant John Beard had been awarded the DFM.

 

Australia's Few. 3 October 1940

The weather was bad on 3 October and Bill Millington did not carry out any operational sorties but could not fully relax as the squadron was entertaining the top brass. The Under Secretary of State for Air, Captain Balfour, visited and took tea with the pilots in the Officers’ Mess.

 

Meanwhile, back in Adelaide, news of Bill’s achievements had spread far and wide and his sister Eileen received a letter from the president of the Streaky Bay Branch of the South Australian Country Women’s Association:

 

'At the monthly meeting of the CWA today a suggestion was carried unanimously that our branch send you congratulations on the wonderful achievements of your famous brother Pilot Officer Millington. We are proud and grateful for what the Air Force are doing and you must indeed be proud of your distinguished brother. May he be long spared to enjoy the laurels he has earned is the sincere wish of us all.’

Australia's Few. 2 October 1940

At North Weald, Bill Millington was busy carrying out patrols. He had flown three on 1 October, the first, lead by North Weald Station CO Wing Commander Beamish, was of Rochford, the second was of Wickford and the third was again of Rochford. A number of Messerschmitt 109s flying at high altitude were sighted but there were no engagements.

The next day, Bill fronted up for three more patrols all of the Hornchurch–Biggin Hill line. None were dawn or early morning sorties—the earliest had him taking to the air at 9.50 a.m.—but each patrol was over an hour long, with less than an hour on the ground in between, making for tiring days where he had to be on the alert constantly.

Bill’s Hurricane, V6614, was obviously a sturdy machine as it flew all six of these patrols in two days.

 

There was no opportunity to relax after work was completed on the 2nd. It was best behaviour when Air Chief Marshal Hugh Dowding, Air Officer Commanding in Chief, Fighter Command visited the squadron and spoke with all of the pilots.

 

 

Australia's Few. 1 October 1940

The London Gazette of 1 October 1940 published details of Bill Millington’s Distinguished Flying Cross:

 

‘In August, 1940 [ie 31 August 1940], this officer was flying as a member of a section engaged on aerodrome guard patrol. Fifteen Dorniers escorted by a large number of Messerschmitts were sighted and an attack was ordered. Pilot Officer Millington succeeded in damaging a Dornier, but was in turn engaged by three Messerschmitts. He damaged one, shook off the other two and, single-handed, again engaged the bombers. During a further attack by two of the enemy fighters, he shot down one but a cannon shell burst in the engine of his aircraft causing it to burn. Pilot Officer Millington, although suffering from a wound, chose to make a crash landing rather than abandon his aircraft and so endanger a village in front of him. He succeeded in getting clear just before the petrol tanks exploded. A few days previously, he attacked a formation of about sixty Heinkels, two of which he destroyed. He has displayed great courage in attacking superior numbers of enemy aircraft.’

 

 

Australia's Few. 30 September 1940

At 9.05 a.m. on 30 September, John Crossman was on patrol with 46 Squadron, again in V6748 and again in company with 249 Squadron. They were tasked with patrolling the Hornchurch line, south of the Thames Estuary. They saw about 20 Me 109s and 10 Me 110s but did not intercept. ‘A large formation Me 109s passed us but we did not attack—were looking for bombers.’

At 1.15 p.m., again flying V6748, John and 46 Squadron were again patrolling the Hornchurch line with 249 Squadron. This was his 19th operational sortie. 46 Squadron encountered a gaggle of Me 109s and John was killed in the ensuing battle. V6748 crashed in flames at Tablehurst Farm in Forest Row, East Sussex.

George Barclay of 249 Squadron witnessed John’s death:

‘No. 46 were attacked by 109s ... I saw a Hurricane going down in flames and a parachute above us, possibly a Jerry.’
 

Twenty-two year old John Dallas Crossman was a great swimmer, enjoyed music, collected stamps and was a voracious reader. He had elegant hands and his deft fingers were good at electrical work but his greatest enthusiasm was for flying. He was mad about aeroplanes from the time he could walk and he loved making balsa wood models. Soon, he turned to the real thing. When he was fourteen, Charles Kingsford Smith came to Newcastle to give joyrides. John’s father took him to the aerodrome and, eyes aglow with excitement, John watched as Smithy thrilled passenger after passenger in hour-long flights. Soon it was his turn, and he was hooked. From that moment on, all he wanted to do was fly. When war was first declared he felt that, ‘should this last any time it seems unlikely that I’ll ever see home again.’ But he was resigned to it. ‘Still I expect it can’t be helped. A fellow has to realise that.’ And so, John did not return home. He fell in combat. He was the eleventh Australian to die in the Battle of Britain.

 

 

 

 

Australia's Few. 29 September 1940

John Crossman filled out his diary for the last time:

 

Went to a dance in Romford six miles away last night. Left there at 11.30 and coming back took wrong turn and must have done a round tour of Essex. Finally got back here at 02.45 this morning. Very quiet day. Went up and saw nothing.

 

 

Australia's Few. 28 September 1940

46 and 249 Squadron again participated in wing patrols on 28 September. The first was of Dover and the second of Maidstone. John Crossman and Bill Millington flew on both patrols, John in Hurricane V6478 and Bill in V6614

On both occasions enemy aircraft were sighted but it was the Maidstone patrol that proved the most significant for John as experienced a lucky escaped and learned two valuable lessons in fighter tactics.

For once, 46 Squadron were leading and, on the way home, the wing was caught by surprise. They:

‘Were attacked in rear out of the sun by 2 Me 109s. We were leading and they shot down one of 249 of Squadron at the rear. It was occupying the position in rear of squadron that I usually have. Glad we were leading. Pilot baled out OK but didn’t move when he landed. Have learned he was badly wounded. [This was Pilot Officer Albert Lewis.] When the two 109s attacked [they] had dived into clouds so we weren’t able to get them. Had they not attacked from out of the sun we should have seen them.’

The lessons: beware of the Hun in the sun, and tail end Charlie is always vulnerable.

 

 

Australia's Few. 27 September 1940

Bill Millington had a successful day out with 249 Squadron on 27 September 1940.

‘I climbed 1000 feet above enemy bombers and made a steep dive quarter attack on the rear e/a. At this time there were only 7 or 8 bombers left as they were being continuously attacked by Hurricanes. Rear e/a left formation smoking and I delivered a quarter attack opening fire at 100 yards, closing. Port engine of enemy aircraft exploded and e/a dived down steeply to ground in flames. Three fighters, some thousands of feet below, seemed to be following e/a down. E/a crashed South East of Portsmouth. Bomber formation split up and not one reached the French coast. PO Neil and I attacked the remaining Ju 88 at about 4000 feet which had been attacked by numbers of our fighters, but was still maintaining height and flying steadily over the coast. I delivered a quarter attack, opening fire from 100 yards closing and the starboard motor of e/a burst into flames. E/a dived steeply over the coast losing height rapidly and PO Neil finished it off with a burst from close range. E/a crashed into sea off Shoreham.’

 

 

Australia's Few. 26 September 1940

Since arriving at 46 Squadron, John Crossman had been living in almost squalid (in his eyes at least) conditions and he hadn’t been impressed:

 

‘This is an awful place here and if it weren’t that the fellows in the squadron are so decent life would be very lousy. Five of us live in the one room with nothing on the floors, nothing to put our clothes in or hang them from, no bathroom and no hot water laid on. Every five days I drive six miles into Epping of Epping Forest fame to have a bath at a hotel there. As you can guess this place isn’t exactly a bed of roses and you should hear the chaps moaning.’

Happily, the boys had now been billeted at Thrift Hall in much more pleasant conditions. John was sharing with Billy Pattullo in a ‘very comfortable room. Quite a change from the aerodrome’.

After a good night’s sleep in his comfortable new accommodation, John awoke to find that there was no flying on the 26th. With 24 hour leave pass in hand, he borrowed a Maggie, flew to North Weald, filled her up and headed off to Leamington Spa to visit friends he had met via the Lady Frances Ryder and Miss Macdonald of the Isles Hospitality Scheme.

 

 

Australia's Few. 25 September 1940

On 25 September 1940 the Luftwaffe’s Kampfgruppe 55 (KG55), along with escorts, attacked the Bristol Aero Company’s works. This was the first time the Luftwaffe had sent so large a force to attack an inland target. 152 Squadron was one of the squadrons sent to intercept. Ken Holland, in Spitfire N3173, was Blue Two, flying with Squadron Leader Peter Devitt. The individual sections were not able to form up in the air and so could not operate as a unit; they operated independently.

Just before 11.30 a.m. Devitt ordered Ken and Green Section to climb as he surmised the enemy aircraft would be heading towards Bristol. Control advised that the ‘bandits’ were 15 miles north of Yeovil at 15,000 feet so he then ordered the climb in this direction. When they were over Bath he saw 100 plus enemy aircraft making a wide sweep with about 50 fighters astern and above. He advised control of this and remained in the sun. The enemy bombers turned due South and were approaching Devitt and B Flight. He ordered a number one attack, leading from above.

It was an aggressive engagement, with roiling dogfights.

‘Sergeant Holland came up at great speed, circled once to identify his quarry and opened fire at approx 400 yards from the rear and slightly to the port side. His first burst apparently took effect for the [Heinkel] He 111 rapidly began to lose height and circled as if looking for a landing. Sergeant Holland turned quickly and got in a second burst, turned again and at 2000 feet came up on the enemy’s tail. This was his only mistake and was fatal as the rear gunner had not been silenced and was able to get in one burst at short range. This burst was fatal and the machine of Sergeant Holland dropped his nose and crashed.’

A witness to the battle saw the Heinkel and Ken’s Spitfire plummet. The wreckage was strewn across the fields of Church Farm Woolverton, a village about four miles north of Frome, in Somerset. Heinkel and Spitfire were less than 500 yards apart. The witness recalled that:

‘the Spitfire broke its back as it crashed. I sent the gardener out to see if the pilot was all right—nothing could be done for him—he had been shot right through the head.’

Kenneth Christopher Holland was only 20 years old. He was the youngest Australian to die in the Battle of Britain.

 

Australia's Few. 24 September 1940

On 24 September 1940, Ken Holland was hauled out of his cot for an early morning flap with Flight Lieutenant Thomas, as 152 Squadron's Blue Two. Soon after, he was in the air again as Blue Two when B Flight scrambled. Then, some time later, he was off again, for his third operational sortie of the day, this time on ‘yet another squadron scramble as Blue 2 to the CO’. This last was not a doddle. He had no oxygen and, after 20 minutes at 23,000 feet blacked out on a turn. He ‘woke up at 3000 doing 400 and pulled out gently!!’ He climbed to 14,000 feet then went home.

 

 

Australia's Few. 23 September 1940

46 and 249 Squadrons were ordered to carry out another Wing interception on the morning of 23 September. John Crossman at Stapleford Tawney, flying V6748, took off at 9.25 a.m. 46 Squadron met up with 249 Squadron, including Bill Millington in Hurricane V6622, who took off minutes later, over North Weald at 20,000 feet.

John noted that there were ‘plenty of fighters around which made off as soon as they saw us’. In the distance, he ‘saw a dog fight over Dover’. It was too far away and he made no attempt to join in. He watched as ‘three kites went down in flames but [was] too far to see whether they were ours or Jerry’s.’

During their patrol, John ‘went up as high as 25,000 feet and, despite the mild autumn weather on the ground, his ‘hands were frozen almost stiff’. He was looking forward to a hand knitted pullover that was on its way from Australia because ‘as we do most of our patrols in the vicinity of 20,000 feet we aren’t generally too warm in the air in spite of a lot of clothes’.

 There appeared to be plenty of ‘Jerries’ in the distance, and John even saw some ‘coming over from France but they turned back as soon as they saw us’. But, as there was no enemy within fighting cooee, the Wing patrol was abandoned after about 90 minutes. 249 Squadron’s verdict? It was nothing but a ‘quiet day, nothing to report’.

 

 

Australia's Few. 22 September 1940

Ken Holland was resilient and by the morning of 22 September had bounced back from his ticking off. 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.

 

 

Australia's Few. 21 September 1940

Ken Holland was in the bad books. He slept in until 8.25 a.m. on 21 September 1940, needing as much sleep as he could get after his late night/early morning. Later on, he flew as Blue Two with Flight Lieutenant Thomas on a flap that was of such little consequence it did not make it into 152 Squadron’s Operations Record Book. Perhaps it was just as well, as our young Australian had put up a number of blacks. First off, there was just sheer bad flying. Then he carried out a blitz dive and lost UM-N’s  knockout patch. And if all that wasn’t bad enough, without a hint of enemy aircraft in the general area, he fired ten rounds from each gun.

 

Ken was well and truly ticked off when he landed, and, sorry to say, he thoroughly deserved it. But it is hard to be unforgiving of such boyish joie de vivre. After all, Ken was only 20.

 

 

Australia's Few. 20 September 1940

At Stapleford Tawney, John Crossman, in Hurricane N2599, and 46 Squadron carried out a joint patrol of Chelmsford at 15,000 with 504 Squadron from 10.45 a.m. to 12.30 p.m. on 20 September 1940.  Despite it being ‘an absolutely marvellous day’, ‘strangely enough we haven’t had a Jerry up all day near us’. But for once, other than his usual annoyance at ‘sitting down here waiting’, John was not too worried about the lack of aerial activity as he had something else to focus on.

‘A new aeroplane arrived in the flight today. So I grabbed it for myself. My last aeroplane was written off when I went on leave Wednesday. One of the chaps took it up and was shot down’.

This was Sergeant George William Jefferys who baled out and died when his parachute failed to open.

John ‘had my mechanics working on my new kite all day and generally getting things ship shape’.

 

No doubt he was looking forward to flying V6748 into battle.

 

 

Australia's Few. 19 September 1940

Ken Holland was back in action again on 19 September when there was another ‘flap after lunch’. Green section was ordered to 15,000 feet over Warmwell. They were vectored onto a Junkers Ju 88 over the channel at 10,000 feet. The attack was delivered at 16.20 p.m. Ken’s individual fighter combat report is extant and he can tell of this encounter:

‘RT of Green One was unserviceable so I became Green One. I was ordered to 15,000 feet over Warmwell and was then vectored to Ju 88. As there was cloud at 10,000 feet Green Two [Pilot Officer Williams] was below cloud and I went above cloud at 11,500 feet. When cloud broke I went down to given height and sighted Ju 88 ahead on the right two miles away. Green Two was left behind below cloud. I gave Tally Ho but Green Two could not find me. I made alternate quarter attacks from left and right from 300 to 200 yards aiming first at the gunners’ positions and then at each engine. EA took slight evasive action, heading for cloud on a southerly course. White and black puffs of smoke came from both engines and there was no return fire after my second attack.

I continued to attack and eventually the EA, now at about 8000 feet, dived vertically towards the sea, with both engines on fire. As my ammunition was finished I flew on a northerly course, and came to the Isle of Wight. My engine was missing slightly so I made for Portsmouth aerodrome, where I landed and after checking engine returned to base’.

Ken was ultimately credited with this victory but he was not initially certain and noted it as ‘V!?’.