On 20 March 1917, Frank Hubert McNamara carried out a
daring rescue under enemy fire that resulted in award of the Victoria Cross.
Twelve months later, John Dallas Crossman was born. What do these men have in
common? Read on.
John Dallas Crossman was born
in North Queensland, Australia exactly 95 years ago on 20 March 1918. His
father Ted, who hailed from Taunton in Somerset, England, had come to Australia
in 1912.
John was a great swimmer,
enjoyed music, collected stamps and was a voracious reader but his greatest
enthusiasm was for flying. He was mad about aeroplanes from the time he could
walk and whenever he could, he headed out to the local aerodrome & loved
making plane models. Soon, he would turn to the real thing
Handsome young John was firmly
set upon a career in the air force. After a grand farewell from his family,
friends and fiancée Patricia Foley he set sail for England. While at sea, war
was declared and while some cheered at the news but John’s reaction was subdued
and resigned: ‘Should this last any time it seems unlikely that I’ll ever see
home again. Still I expect it can’t be helped. A fellow has to realise that.’
And as for the decision to go to war, ‘it is a pretty filthy business
altogether but really the only thing that England could do’.
Having arrived in England John
joined the RAF on 12 August 1939. His proudest moment was the day he received
his wings believing that in flying for Britain he would be fulfilling his
destiny.
John’s first action was on the
September 14th. He admitted to being scared sick and panicky when the squadron
attacked a formation of about 60 Messerschmitt 109s at 20,000 feet. The fear
was worse just before he fired, but he pushed it aside and ‘got one decent
burst into a 109 but was unable to see if I got him as [I] had to get out of
the way of a few more’.
John was in the air again on
the 15th, the day ever since commemorated as Battle of Britain Day. He ‘ran
into hundreds of Jerry kites at about 19,000 feet. Three of us were going round
to do head-on attacks on some Dorniers. I lost speed, spun down 6000 feet, came
out near 20 more escorted by about 60 Messerschmitt 109s. Three of the 109s
came after me. I evaded then came round [and] did a stern attack on the
Dorniers. Put all my shots into one of them, set his port engine on fire and
saw him go down’
John’s nerves quickly passed.
As September advanced he was in the air two or even three times a day. With a
zest for life and a bright sense of humour, he made friends easily. When he
could grasp a few hours respite he spent time with them in an effort to forget
the serious business of fighting. His family and fiancée were also clearly in
his constant thoughts as John’s cabin walls were plastered with their photos. A
large portrait of Patricia took pride of place in his display.
By the time John took to the
air in the afternoon of 30 September 1940, he had flown 18 sorties. At about
1.30 p.m., 46 Squadron encountered a gaggle of Messerschmitt 109s and his
Hurricane was hit. John Dallas Crossman was only 22 years old when he died in
the Battle of Britain.
The only Australian Great War airman to
receive the Victorian Cross was Frank Hubert McNamara and, interestingly, he
has a connection to John Crossman. On 20 March 1917, exactly one year before
John’s birth, McNamara and Alfred Ellis, flying single-seated Martinsydes,
escorted by Peter Drummond and new pilot Doug Rutherford in BE2cs, were tasked
with bombing a section of Turkish railway near Wadi el Hesi. McNamara dropped
his bombs over a train but the last exploded as it left the racks. His
Martinsyde was caught in the blast and metal fragments cut through the seat into
his buttocks. He was dazed, bleeding and in pain so decided to return to base
but he saw that Rutherford had force-landed and the Turkish cavalry were fast
approaching. McNamara dived through enemy ground fire to land about 200 yards
from Rutherford who was attempting to destroy his BE2c. Rutherford stopped when
he saw McNamara, dashed to the Martinsyde and climbed onto its wing.
McNamara
tried to take off but the aircraft could not take Rutherford’s weight and
veered to the left. McNamara’s right leg was next to useless and did not have
enough strength to operate the rudder to align the Martinsyde and it lurched
into a gully. McNamara and Rutherford pulled themselves from the wreck just
before the petrol tank exploded. The Turks were almost upon them and firing as
Rutherford helped the wounded McNamara to the BE2c which, although damaged
during its forced-landing, looked as if it could fly. Ellis and Drummond
arrived and tried to distract the advancing Turks with machine-gun fire while
Rutherford helped the still bleeding McNamara into the pilot’s seat. While
McNamara fired at the fast approaching Turks, Rutherford swung the propeller.
The engine started and he climbed in. Ninety minutes later, they were back at
base.
McNamara’s actions exemplified self-sacrifice,
bravery and devotion to duty and he was lauded as a hero when he returned to
Australia. His rescue of Rutherford was not branded as chivalrous at the time—although
he was publicised as a gallant hero—but it was belatedly recognised as a
chivalrous act when Septimus Power’s 1924 painting ‘How the Victoria Cross was
won in Palestine’ was included in the 1933 publication Australian Chivalry.
McNamara joined the RAAF on its formation
in 1921 and served until 1946 when he retired with honorary rank of Air
Vice-Marshal. The whole of his service during the Second World War was spent
outside Australia, initially as as representative for the RAAF in London until
1942, then on loan to the RAF while commanding British forces in Aden until
1945.
So, what is the connection between John
Crossman and Frank McNamara? Well, when Edward Wimperis, who painted John’s
crash site on the day he died in battle, tried to track down the Crossman
family so he could give them the paintings, he contacted McNamara at Australia
House who agreed to forward the paintings to Australia. He told Wimperis on 29
October 1940 that ‘your kind and spontaneous action on the occasion of the
death of this gallant young officer is something that moves me with admiration.
I know too that the Air Ministry appreciates what you have done. Above all, I
am sure that the relatives of the late officer will be grateful’. They were.
And are.
'The Journey's End. 30th September 1940' by Edmund Wimperis, 1940.
No comments:
Post a Comment