Australia's Few. 1 August 1940

On 31 July, Pat Hughes was assigned to night flying duty and, after a late night/early morning, was up early on 1 August. He had a special licence and 24 hours leave. He and Kay Brodrick, who he had met in February 1940, were getting married. Strangers watched them exchange vows. But that did not matter. They had each other. ‘We were so marvellously happy’, Kay recalled.

In a tragic counterpoint, Australia lost the second of her Battle of Britain pilots on day Pat and Kay were wed. During an afternoon bomber escort operation to Cherbourg with 236 Squadron, Bryan McDonough’s Blenheim R2774 was shot down. Both Bryan and his gunner, Sergeant Frederick Arthur Percy Head, were reported missing.

 

 

Australia's Few. 31 July 1940

At Acklington on 31 July 1940, Bill Millington lined up with his squadron to welcome Air Commodore Nicholas and Wing Commander Reas-Jones who were visiting. They officially passed out 79 Squadron operationally and the boys celebrated by carrying out attacks and formation flying. Before they knew it, they would be on readiness. But would they be in action?

 

 

Bill Millington

 

Des Sheen, also installed at Acklington with 72 Squadron, found that life up north was very quiet and he bemoaned the fact that ‘I’ve not had a scrap’ since December. ‘Other Fighter Command squadrons seem to have had all the luck.’

 

 

Des Sheen

 

Over the last weeks especially, when they had not been frustrated by poor weather, his confreres had just been on training flights and routine readiness with the usual sort of non productive convoy patrols. There was a least the memory of some funny moments to relieve the boredom. When he had first arrived at Acklington in March 1940 (before his stint in France) there were no runways and the ground was waterlogged and very soft, making take-offs difficult. On one memorable occasion, Squadron Leader Ronald Lees (now posted elsewhere) found just how soft, tipping his Spitfire on its nose when he landed. He climbed out and promptly declared that the airfield was unserviceable for Spitfires! Desmond recalled that Spitfire could only be taxi-ed with someone sitting on the tail. It ‘needed great care, with its narrow track undercarriage and small wheels—and the great weight of the Merlin engine’.

 

 Ronald Lees

Australia's Few. 30 July 1940

Busy as Stuart Walch and Pat Hughes had been, it is almost unbelievable to note that John Crossman still had not flown in combat.

 

At Biggin Hill, he had been ‘buzzing around a lot lately in the “Maggie” and now that I’m used to it find it a very good kite to fly and quite the acrobat’. He was pleased to note that Queenslander John Pain, ‘one of the original Aussies’ with whom he had sailed to England and trained with, had been posted to 32 Squadron after operational training. But John was not going to get a chance to spend much time with ‘Tiger’ Pain. On 30 July 1940 ‘I learned today that I am to go away for five weeks to an OTU which is a helluva nuisance as I am just nicely settled here now.’ Which was a polite way of saving that his hopes of getting into action any time soon had been dashed.

 

 

Australia's Few. 29 July 1940

At Middle Wallop, Stuart Walch sat down to write to his family. He had been busy on convoy patrols and had already notched up a number of successes over the last two weeks, including on 26 July the destruction of a 109 25 miles south of Portland. Not that he knew anything of it, but the 109 was that of 2/JG 27’s Fw Günther Bör who was killed that day. Now, he wanted to tell his family a little of those busy days, playing down the danger and commending the men in his flight for their actions, rather than his own.

 

‘Some of the combats I have been in have been rather wild while they lasted. So far I seem to have been in the show with my section only (not a terrific support against the odds we have met from time to time). Still, my boys are damn good and have proved themselves very reliable supporters, as you can imagine, ‘cause once we (the three of us) met thirty and got a couple. Once my flight (six of us), which I was leading, met eighty, and again when I was on my own I got mixed up with fifteen. You have got to work hard for a few hectic minutes on those occasions.’

 

 

Australia's Few. 28 July 1940

Pat was again busy on 28 July 1940. He was up early for dawn readiness and, shortly after 5.00 a.m., he and Pilot Officers Ken Dewhurst and Patrick Horton were ordered to investigate an enemy aircraft over Plymouth. As they approached the port city, shell bursts from the anti-aircraft guns illuminated a lone Ju 88 ‘diving steeply towards some objective on the land’. This time flying Spitfire N3239, Pat followed the Junkers down but waited until it ‘pulled up’ and then ‘opened fire at 100 yards closing to 50 yards’. He held this position and fired off a number of short two second bursts, continuing as the enemy aircraft began to turn. The German rear gunner kept up a constant barrage and yet again, Pat’s Spitfire was hit by a solitary bullet, this time in the radiator. His Spit was fine, but smoke began to trail from the Ju 88’s starboard engine and a ‘red hot object’ broke off. The Junkers began to lose height. Pilot Officers Dewhurst and Horton fired in turn. The damaged engine burst into flames and the Junkers slowly turned starboard and hit the water. It disappeared within seconds; there were no survivors. There was no doubt about this one. Blue Section claimed a destroyed and each were credited with a third share.

This was Pat Hughes’s third successful battle in three weeks.

 

 

Australia's Few. 27 July 1940

On 8 July 1940, 234 Squadron’s Blue Section—Flight Lieutenant Pat Hughes, Pilot Officer Keith Lawrence and Sergeant George Bailey—attacked a Junkers Ju 88 over a convoy. They were credited with the squadron’s first confirmed enemy casualty.

 

On 27 July, Pat Hughes was again leading Blue Section, this time on a patrol to Lands End. The section, this time with Flying Officer Francis Connor (who had only joined the squadron on 6 July after converting to Spitfires) flying as Number Two, was ordered to patrol Lands End. They took off at 14.45 p.m. Fifteen minutes later, Pat was ordered to take the section to 23,000 feet. He was about 25 miles south east of Lands End at this stage and saw an enemy aircraft directly above. Then—and here we will hand over to Pat’s account which he wrote in the third person—‘[the] E/A immediately dived vertically. Blue One attacked from astern, using deflection and followed E/A down onto water. Blue One fired three bursts. Both rear guns put out of action. Perspex was seen to fly off the top cockpit and part of aircraft fell from both engines. Blue One finished all his ammunition and broke away to port, estimated speed of enemy aircraft 300 mph.’

 

Pat was credited with damaging a Ju 88.

 

 

Australia's Few. 26 July 1940

Stuart Walch of 238 Squadron had been busy. He had flown plenty of patrols but did not encounter the enemy until his second sortie on 26 July 1940.

At 11.42 a.m., the squadron took off to patrol Swanage at 10,000 feet. Stuart, again in P3618 was Blue Leader. Ground control advised that ‘bandits’ were south west of Portland at 12,000 feet but, as so frequently happened at this time, the controller had got the enemy height wrong. About 25–30 miles south of Portland, Stuart caught sight of three Me 109s flying at 14,000 feet. He ordered Blue Section into line astern and climbed behind the enemy fighters who had also climbed and were at 18,000 feet. Two of the Me 109s were in a vic formation, with a third ‘loose on right’. They were almost to the French coast when Stuart lined up the straggler in his sights and ‘fired one short burst (one sec) from a shallow quarter deflection’. The Messerschmitt ‘half rolled then dived vertically down, then went into spin and broke up, the wings dropping off and fuselage going into sea’. Stuart was credited with destroying the Me 109. It was his last victory.

 

 

Obituary. James Baird Coward AFC, RAF

 

Air Commodore James Baird Coward AFC, RAF. One of The Few

By Kristen Alexander and Air Commodore (Retd) Mark Lax (Originally published in Wings, Official Publication of the RAAF Association, Vol. 64, No. 3, Spring 2012)

 

 As a flight of Nazi bombers were returning to France, they encountered No. 19 Squadron’s Spitfires. Flying Officer James Coward saw a Dornier and lined up for a ‘beautiful shot’ but, he later recalled, ‘when I pressed the firing button absolutely nothing happened’. His guns had jammed. Then, ‘I suddenly felt a hard kick on the shin. I looked round and I saw my bare foot sitting on the rudder pedal’. His shoe and sock had disappeared; his foot was hanging by the ligaments. He didn’t have time to think about the pain because his Spitfire was diving out of control. ‘I was sucked out of the cockpit and my parachute got caught and I was trapped. I was dragged back along the fuselage, my trousers had blown off and my foot was banging around my knee’. He pulled the ripcord and found himself alone in the sky. As he descended, he remembered experiencing ‘the most wonderful feeling of peace until I suddenly looked down and saw my blood pumping out red spurts’.

He used his helmet wireless lead to tie a tourniquet to staunch the blood – this saved his life. Upon landing, he was accosted by a young lad with a pitchfork, and after ‘pleasantries’, was whisked to Cambridge Hospital where his left leg was amputated below the knee. It was 31 August 1940 and he awoke to find a heavily pregnant wife at his bedside. His first words to her were, ‘Hallo Cinnie. I shan’t play Rugger again’.

James Coward’s Battle of Britain career was only brief but he was one of the 2940 or so men who were awarded the Battle of Britain Clasp to their 1939–45 Star. He will always be remembered as one of The Few, indeed one of the last of The Few.

James Baird Coward was born in Teddington, Middlesex on 18 May 1915. He was educated at St John’s School, Leatherhead. As a 15 year old he went to work in his father’s office. He hated it. He desperately wanted to fly. When he was 21, he applied to the Royal Air Force and was granted a commission on 16 October 1936. After training, he was posted to 19 Squadron, based at Duxford. Two years later he was in the cockpit of the RAF’s sleek new monoplane – the Spitfire. He was thrilled to be flying fighters and later recalled, ‘it was a lovely aeroplane’. On 29 December 1939, he married Cynthia Bayon. Their marriage was to last over 70 years.

After recovery, James was posted to Winston Churchill’s staff, where he was in charge of ensuring the Prime Minister’s safety from air attack at Chequers and Chartwell. After promotion to squadron leader in late 1941, he was appointed flight commander at an operational training unit at Aston Down. Further command appointments followed and in 1944 he moved to the Air Ministry in charge of operational fighter training.

James Coward’s service in the RAF did not end in 1945. After staff appointments and an attaché posting to Norway, he was Wing Commander Flying at the Meteor Advanced Flying Training School. On 1 January 1954 he was awarded the Air Force Cross for demonstrating the dangers of inverted spinning and correct recovery on Meteor jet aircraft.

In 1960, Group Captain Coward joined the British Defence Liaison Staff in Canberra, a posting he and Cynthia thoroughly enjoyed. Returning to the United Kingdom in October 1962, he was appointed Air Officer Commanding Air Cadets and in May 1966 took up the post of Defence Attaché in Pretoria.

The Cowards retired to Australia in September 1969 where two of their four daughters were already resident. They lived in Canberra for over 40 years in one of the first passively heated houses in the Territory. Paying homage to his favourite aircraft, he erected a Spitfire weather vane which served as a landmark to visitors walking down the battleaxe drive. 

James Coward loved life intensely. He never let the loss of his leg hamper him. He skied until his 90s, thinking nothing of possible risks. He also enjoyed dancing and would often don a kilt for an evening of highland reels.

Air Commodore James Coward AFC, RAF (Retd) died at Yass on 25 July 2012 with Cynthia holding his hand. He had recently celebrated his 97th birthday. James is buried at Michelago beside two of his daughters who predeceased him. He is survived by Cynthia, his two youngest daughters and many grand and great-grandchildren.

 

 

Australia's Few. 25 July 1940

John Crossman finally had his chance at flying a Hurricane on 25 July. He did 40 minutes dual in the Magister and after lunch was allowed to take his first flight in a Hurricane. ‘It certainly is an aeroplane and a half and its power and speed scares me almost.’ Life was looking brighter. John flew as often as he could and his confidence on the Hurricane increased. ‘They sure are swell planes’.

 

A model of John's Hurricane from 46 Squadron.

Australia's Few. 24 July 1940

John Crossman was getting impatient. For the last week, 32 Squadron had been flying ops every day and it had been all hands on deck, except for John. He hadn’t even flown the Master, let alone a Hurricane. ‘There always seems to be a hitch in the proceedings’. Yet again, he acted as the squadron ferry pilot and took a fitter to do a job at Kenley. After that, he ‘did absolutely nothing all day and in the evening wrote seven letters.’

 

 

One of those seven letters was probably to his fiancée Pat Foley. 

Australia's Few. 23 July 1940

23 July 1940 was  a relatively quiet day for Fighter Command. No combat losses were recorded and only two German bombers were shot down. Eight Australians also had a quiet day.

 

Des Sheen was still waiting to hear about his hoped-for return to 72 Squadron, Ken Holland continued his training, Stuart Walch was off duty, Dick Glyde was still off the ops list, Pat Hughes spent the day on the ground and Bill Millington and 79 Squadron were grounded until 26 July. After waking up late after his stint as duty pilot, John Crossman took the squadron’s ‘Maggie’ to Kenley to have tea with a new friend he had met at the R/T course. It was an enjoyable afternoon, making up in some small measure for his disappointment in not being able to fly the 32 Squadron’s Master, which was unserviceable. It was ‘a nuisance’ and this would have been his next step towards his first go on a Hurricane. He was also cheered up at mail call, when he received a scarf from some family friends and the first letter for weeks. Another late night was in order as he was duty pilot again ‘and had to control night flying again as officer in charge didn’t turn up’.

 

 

(John Crossman had missed out on flying the Hurricane during his training and, even after being posted to an operational fighter squadron still hadn't had a chance to fly one. Bill Millington had gained plenty of Hurricane experience by this stage. Here he is standing in front of a Hurricane of 10 FTS Tern Hill.)

Australia's Few. 22 July 2013

John Crossman’s R/T course at Uxbridge was over and he returned to Biggin Hill. While he was away, ‘our chaps were the six that fought 80 Huns and got seven of them’. Sadly, 32 Squadron had not come off unscathed, losing Sub Lieutenant Bulmer, ‘a very decent young chap from FAA serving with us’. Another was shot down and recovering in hospital and the CO gained ‘a few cuts in the face and a black eye when he crashed’.

 

John was proud of his new friends and hoped that soon join them in battle. Until then, however, he was duty pilot, controlling the night flying and in charge of laying out the flare path.

 

 

Australia's Few. 21 July 1940

At Middle Wallop, Stuart Walch of 238 Squadron followed up his success of the day before during an afternoon convoy patrol of Portland.

 

Off The Needles, Isle of Wight, he ‘dived down from 12,000 feet to 8000 feet following the last aircraft in the enemy formation, which was now flying away from the convoy south east, apparently returning to France. I closed to about 500 yards before I was sighted. The formation then went into a right hand turn, aircraft still in line astern. The aircraft I was following swung out on the turn and was on the outside of the circle. I opened fire at 250 yards closing to 50...The enemy I attacked tightened his turn and dived towards the sea, I broke off the attack and the starboard engine of the enemy aircraft was emitting black and white smoke. I lost sight of the enemy aircraft in the dive, as I pulled away in a left hand turn.’

 

He was credited with one destroyed Me 110 and a damaged.

 

He had come a long way since graduating from 1 Flying Training School three years earlier.

 

Another review for Australian Eagles!

Another review of Australian Eagles! The most recent edition of Sabretache. The Journal and Proceedings of the Military Historical Society of Australia has been published (Vol LIV No 2, June 2013) and it includes Peter Ingman's review of Australian Eagles. Peter has homed in on two aspects of my particular style of aviation writing: that I favour a personal, biographical approach rather than a technical treatise on battle and materiel; and that I eschew the 'faction' of cockpit action. I have reprinted a large chunk of the review here.

 

Australian Eagles comprises the stories of six Australian fighter pilots who fought in the Battle of Britain. There are no lengthy dissertations on the rise of National Socialism or the design history of the Spitfire; Alexander gets straight down to business after a brief reminder of the importance of the Battle of Britain, including Churchill’s famous words, ‘Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilisation...’. So it was that an extraordinary weight was placed on the shoulders of ‘The Few’—generally young men barely out of school.

The Australian pilots in the Battle of Britain were indeed just a few (around 30—the number varies depending on your definition of ‘Australian’) among ‘The Few’. These men had joined the air force during peacetime so their stories immediately differ from the typical WWII pilot biography. Some trained at Point Cook but then joined the RAF in short service commissions—so there was a cadre of Australian fighter pilots flying years before the first fighter squadron would be formed in Australia.

This book is about the less celebrated pilots. ... Four of these pilots were killed in 1940, although there were still another five hard years of war ahead—five years of significant events that would further obscure this period. It is touching to see how these men are remembered today—particularly by their school communities, but also by others. Only the most passionate of researchers would explore these relatively brief stories to find something about the nature and character of these men—and Alexander does just that. Underlining these difficulties, there is an ‘interlude’ describing the dearth of records concerning one of the pilots, Dick Glyde, who is barely remembered in squadron records and even excluded from certain accounts.

Alexander has her own style as an aviation writer. She does not try and put the reader in the cockpit, nor are actions embellished with detail that can only have been assumed. This is a difficulty for aviation writers: often complex events are accounted for very tersely in squadron records or logbooks. It is easy, then, to borrow from the experiences of others and in doing so overshadow the primary character concerned. Alexander does not go down that path. In fact by focusing on some relatively brief careers she gives her subjects a certain humility—and as a result treats them with due reverence.

For this reason the book is in many ways a refreshing angle on this subject. It reminds us that there is more to fighter pilots than just their tally count. In particular, all of those who lost their lives leave behind a rich legacy in their communities and family which lives on to the present day.

 

Alexander Fax Bookseller's display of Australian Eagles

Australia's Few. 20 July 1940

238 Squadron on convoy protection duties on 20 July 1940. Flying at 8000 feet, Blue Section arrived at the convoy, which was 15 miles south east of Portland, at 12.20 p.m. They encountered the enemy ‘in force’ and ‘the sections broke for individual combat’. Stuart Walch ‘twice investigated aircraft which turned out to be Hurricanes’. By 1.00 p.m., he had lost the rest of Blue Section and, as his main petrol tank was empty, he switched to his reserve tank and decided to return to base. He was down to 6000 feet by this stage. Climbing back to 8000 feet as he flew towards Swanage, he ‘observed fifteen aircraft flying in formation towards the convoy on [a northerly] course at approx. 12,000 feet’. Stuart was too far away to identify the aircraft but, given the direction they were taking, he concluded that they weren’t Hurricanes this time. ‘They were hostile’.

 

Stuart tried to contact ground control to see if the relief section was on its way but he could not raise them. He then ‘turned and headed for convoy climbing to get into sun’. When he was about five miles from the convoy, he saw bombs exploding around the escorting destroyer. He was right. He had encountered an enemy formation. Despite being alone, he ‘pulled the plug and went after the enemy aircraft which had turned southwards’. When he was south east of the convoy, at 10,000 feet, he saw ‘three Me 109s flying in [a] wide vic at about 9000 feet’. He dived and attacked the port machine. He opened fire at 200 yards quarter, firing two rapid two second busts as he closed to astern at approx. 50 yards. He watched as ‘black smoke poured from under the engine of the enemy aircraft’. It then ‘turned right and made vertical dive towards sea’. Stuart did not follow it down to confirm its destruction ‘as the other aircraft were trying to get astern of me’. His tanks were almost empty and so he ‘pulled up in a steep stall turn and made for home.’ Although Stuart did not mention it, as he ‘fired a burst causing the Me 109 to catch fire’, he was assisted by another friendly aircraft and was accordingly credited with a half share of the 109.

 

 

Australia's Few. 19 July 1940

32 Squadron was constantly in the air during the early days of the Battle of Britain. Not that John Crossman was getting any share of the action. He was still considered to be under training and yet no one had time to devote to a green pilot. As his new friends carried out sortie after sortie, and his hoped-for first flight in a Hurricane did not eventuate, John began to ‘feel just a little out of things’.He flew the Magister a few times and acted as ferry pilot for those coming or leaving the station. On 19 July, he was sent to Uxbridge for a three day R/T course. ‘Was very annoyed’.

 

Australia's Few. 18 July 1940.

Newcastle on Tyne, birthplace of Bill Millington, was feeling the effects of enemy raiders. During a major air raid on Newcastle and Jarrow in the late afternoon of 2 July, 13 people were killed, 123 were injured and a factory was hit. On 18 July, high explosive bombs hit a secondary school, leaving considerable damage in their wake as well as many casualties and three deaths. Members of Bill’s family rushed to their nearest shelter when air raid sirens blared out their warnings, making themselves as comfortable as possible. ‘When we get into the air-raid shelter we feel quite safe’, wrote one of Bill’s relations to the Adelaide connection. ‘We have seats, the floor is boarded (Dad did that), rugs on the floor, candle light and oil stove in case it is very cold.’ As soon as 79 Squadron, based at nearby Acklington were operational, Bill would be part of his family’s and home town’s defence.

 

 

Australia's Few. 17 July 1940

After a two day hiatus from operations because of bad weather, Stuart Walch of 238 Squadron was in the air at 1.45 p.m. on 17 July when the squadron scrambled to intercept a raid off Portland. In his first operational sortie with the squadron, Squadron Leader Jim Fenton was flying in B Flight’s Green Section. A Flight saw nothing but Stuart and Blue Three saw three Messerschmitt Me 110s flying in a vic formation about 1000 feet above them. Stuart called Blue Section into line astern then turned quickly but immediately lost sight of the enemy aircraft as they flew into the sun. Two hours later, he was in the air again when 238 Squadron were ordered to intercept another raid, but there was no encounter. At 5.35 p.m., this time with Squadron Leader Jim Fenton leading, B Flight were off on their third abortive scramble for the day. At 9.00 p.m., they were again rushing to their Hurricanes. It was a long, exhausting day with plenty of adrenaline, but nothing to add to the scoreboard.

 

 

Australia's Few. 16 July 1940

A quiet day for the Australian pilots of Fighter Command.

 

At Exeter, 87 Squadron's Dick Glyde led Sergeant Culverwell on a two man base patrol at 11.10 a.m. Des Sheen was recovering from a tiring but exciting month-long trip after escaping from France with the photoreconnaissance unit. Pat Hughes of 234 Squadron and Stuart Walch of 238 Squadron were rostered off and, at Acklington, Bill Millington and 79 Squadron were two days into a five days session of non-operational flying training.

 

Meanwhile, the weather at Biggin Hill was bad and John Crossman did not get a chance to fly. The Hurricane was still denied him. Perhaps it was just as well as he was tired from staying up half the night as duty pilot, and when he could sleep it was uncomfortable in the watch office: ‘I thought I could sleep on anything but that bed there was one too many for me.’ He didn’t get much sleep that night as there was a ‘do’ on at the dispersal hut ‘that was quite a show’.

 

 

Australia's Few. 15 July 1940

John Crossman was getting his bearings at Biggin Hill. He had been sent there on his own to join 32 Squadron ‘so I feel just a little out of things at present, although they seem a decent crowd of fellows and are all about my own age.’

 

He ‘went up in a Magister this morning to give me an idea of what a monoplane is like. It is a very easy kite to fly and particularly responsive to controls’. He hoped he would not have too long to wait before he had a try of the Hurricane. But he was disappointed. Four days later he was posted to Uxbridge for a R/T course.

 

 

Australia's Few. 14 July 1940

Charles Gardner broadcast a live blow by blow account as RAF squadrons 610, 151 and 615 Squadrons battled Ju 87s attacking a convoy off Dover. There were no Australians involved in this action but Stuart Walch had been with 151 prior to his transfer.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmOCrrb-j_8

Australia's Few. 13 July 1940

13 July 1940: By early afternoon, a westward convoy was nearing Lyme Bay, an area west of Portland where vessels were vulnerable to enemy attack. Accordingly, Warmwell despatched three Spitfires from 609 Squadron and twelve Hurricanes from 238 to Portland to mount guard when the ships arrived and then escort them westwards. Jack Kennedy was leading A Flight. When 238 Squadron arrived there were no ships, but they encountered a large formation of enemy aircraft, who also expected the convoy to be there. A Flight was about 12,000 feet over Portland Harbour when it spotted one of two Dornier Do 17s heading out to sea in a shallow dive. These Dorniers were the reconnaissance eyes of the main formation of Me 110Cs. Jack ordered Red section into line astern to follow the a diving Dornier.

 

When they were over Chesil Beach, Jack attacked. He killed the gunner and damaged the Dornier. The Dornier turned towards the shore. Pilot Officer Davis and Sergeant Parkinson fired at the retreating Dornier. As it turned across Portland Bill, they continued to fire at it. They saw it crash into the sea off Chesil Beach at 3.04 p.m. After firing at Red section’s Dornier, Jack also turned towards the shore. He was losing height. He had either been wounded, or his Hurricane hit by return fire from the Dornier, or both. Jack continued to lose height and Hurricane P2950’s wings clipped high tension cables. It crashed into a hillside at Southdown Farm, north of Lodmoor, just outside Weymouth. Jack was only about two miles from Warmwell. His Hurricane was engulfed in flames on impact. Twenty-three year old John Connolly Kennedy, known as Jack, was dead. He was the first Australian fighter pilot to die in the Battle of Britain. He was 238 Squadron’s first death in combat. Jack was officially credited with a third share in the Dornier.

Australia's Few. 12 July 1940.

Jack Kennedy of Sydney, Australia was Flight Commander of 238 Squadron's A Flight. On 10 July, he intercepted two raids but did not encounter the enemy. He was rostered off on 11 July and missed out on the Squadron's first victory of the Battle of Britain. He was back in the air on 12 July, firstly leading Red section on an early morning patrol over Poole and, at 12.36 p.m., on a base patrol. No enemy aircraft were sighted on either occasion. Even when not in the air he was busy but he took a few moments to himself and wrote a quick note to his fiancée. 'It’s just about a month I think since I saw you; it seems much longer. I’m absolutely dying to see you, but I just can’t imagine how it can be done at the moment. The thought of leave is ridiculous...I am frantic with love.' It was his last letter.

 

 

Australia's Few. 11 July 1940

Stuart Walch entered the fray at 11.55 a.m. on 11 July 1940. He and 238 Squadron’s B Flight, who had been patrolling Warmwell, were directed to Portland. B Flight arrived over the Portland naval base at 10,000 feet. The enemy aircraft were at 12,000 feet and so, Stuart, who was Blue Leader, ‘ordered aircraft line astern’ and ‘climbed towards combat’. When they were about three miles south east of Portland, Stuart, in Hurricane P3124, saw one Me 110 diving towards a ship off Portland Bill. He ‘ordered Green Section to stay above in case of escort fighters’. Then, just on noon, he and pilot officers John Urwin-Mann and Brian Considine fired. The twin-engined fighter turned towards Stuart and ‘I fired two/three second bursts from guns’ closing from about 300–200 yards’. Still in line astern formation, Urwin-Mann then made a beam attack. Stuart fired again, this time from 250 yards closing to 50 yards. As the Me 110 straightened out, white and black smoke began pouring from its engine which then caught fire. The Messerschmitt plummeted. Stuart followed it down and ‘saw it crash into sea’. Although it was clearly a shared victory, Stuart was the only one credited at the time with ‘the squadron’s first confirmed scalp’. It was his first victory.

 

 

Australia's Few. 10 July 1940

10 July 1940: Did anyone realise at the time that 10 July 1940 was a watershed day? The British public certainly had no idea. They—including Ann Brawn of Chalfont St Giles—were more worried about tea rationing which had began the day before, gathering up their pots and pans for Lord Beaverbrook’s just launched aluminium appeal, and a sugar shortage for the jam making season. Although there was some Luftwaffe activity during the 10th, eight of the '30 or so' Australians in Fighter Command were enjoying a relatively quiet time and also failed to recognise history’s turning point. 

 

Des Sheen, who had been working with a photo reconnaissance unit, was taking the long way home after fleeing a falling France while Ken Holland, who had recently passed his wings exam, did an hour of formation flying in ‘filthy weather’ at Little Rissington and ‘was told off for not returning. Went to bed early and got some sleep’. Pat Hughes at St Eval was up at dawn for convoy duty and, at the end of a long day, led 234 Squadron’s Blue Section into the air to respond to a call to scramble but it was a non event. Bill Millington, still flushed with the success of his first victory with 79 Squadron, was in transit. Bad weather had impeded the squadron’s move north and, on the 10th, Bill and his friends spent the night at Biggin Hill. At RAF Station Exeter in Devon, Dick Glyde and 87 Squadron were on readiness. They had moved from Church Fenton to Exeter on 4 July and were one of seven fighter squadrons tasked with protecting shipping in the western half of the Channel. Johnny Cock flew a solo patrol at 12.30 p.m.; Dick led Pilot Officer Harry Mitchell and Sergeant Herbert Walton on one at 2.50 p.m.; and Cock doubled up for his second solo effort of the day at 3.15 p.m. Hardly worth it, really as he was only in the air for five minutes. Stuart Walch and Jack Kennedy of 238 Squadron woke to an overcast day at Middle Wallop. Stuart, who had carried out eight sorties between 4 and 9 July—a mixture of base, local and convoy patrols—was off duty. It was Jack and A Flight’s turn to wait at dispersal for the call to ops. All was quiet until 7.45 p.m. when A Flight was called to patrol Portland Bill. It was another anticlimax. There was no enemy encounter and so, after landing, Jack returned to his shabby quarters to await ‘the Blitzkrieg on England.’ 

 

Meanwhile, at Cranwell, a stunned John Crossman was in the escort party for a RAF funeral. He had become great friends with Jack Burraston since meeting on the Orama on their way to the United Kingdom. They trained together, shared a billet and studied together. They both expected to be posted to a fighter squadron. Preferably the same one. But on 6 July, shortly before they were to leave Cranwell for a permanent posting, Jack, or Burry as John called him, was killed in a training flight.

 

 

Des Sheen

 

Jack Kennedy

 

Stuart Walch

 

Dick Glyde

 

Pat Hughes

 

Ken Holland

 

Bill Millington

 

 

John Crossman

9 July 1940: Bill Millington's first victory

At 3.05 p.m. on 9 July 1940, 79 Squadron’s A Flight embarked on a patrol over Dover. Bill Millington was Red Two. Thirty minutes later, the Hurricanes spotted a formation of nine Messerschmitt Me 109s, heading towards Dover. As they climbed to intercept, Yellow Section and Red Three were lost in the clouds. When Bill and Red One reached 20,000 feet, they orbited to maintain height until they were within range. It wasn’t long before they were ‘milling around in a terrific dogfight’. Bill ‘climbed up behind two Me 109s who ventured from the base of thick cloud ... I carried out an astern attack on the rear enemy aircraft, opening fire at 300 yards and holding the burst for about three seconds’. He hit the Messerschmitt and a piece flew from it as his ‘tracer converged at his cockpit’. A plume of thick black smoke streamed from the engine as the 109 dived steeply, then crashed into the water a few miles from the French coast. Bill was modest about his first victory—‘I was fortunate to get on the tail of a Hun and he was soon diving for the sea in flames’.

 

 

Review of Australian Eagles

Author Justin Sheedy has just posted his take on my third book. In the week of the 73rd anniversary of the commencement of the Battle of Britain, it is an apt recognition of my personal tribute to the brave men who fought in Britain's great conflict. Thank you Justin. And thank you for permission to reprint here.

http://crackernight.com/2013/07/08/australian-eagles-australians-in-the-battle-of-britain-by-kristen-alexander-reviewed-by-justin-sheedy/

Australia Eagles by Kristen Alexander

 

Sometimes history doesn’t seem real.  Especially when it seems too dramatic, too tragic, too surreally heroic to be true.  In her latest book, ‘Australian Eagles – Australians in the Battle of Britain’, author Kristen Alexander renders such history quite arrestingly real through her accounts of the part played by young Australians in the making of that history.

 

The Battle of Britain of 1940 remains one of the most famous battles in history, to this day a perfect model of resistance of good against evil and victory against that evil despite staggeringly overwhelming odds.  In that dark year the air force of Nazi Germany, having just rolled up Western Europe, sought to knock out the by comparison tiny British Royal Air Force as a prelude to Nazi invasion of Britain.  The Germans thought they had won before they started.  The iconic battle that ensued proved them wrong.  Of the victorious defenders, Winston Churchill coined one of the most famous lines in the English language: “Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.”  ‘Australian Eagles’ is a portrait of six of the Australians within that now immortal “Few”.

 

Kristen signing at recent book launch

 

Kristen Alexander portrays six shining young men.  Four of whom lost their young lives in the battle, a fifth losing a leg though continuing to fly until 90-something, the sixth remaining unscathed despite bailing out of his Spitfire in hot air combat no less than three times.  Shining young men?  It’s no exaggeration:  Alexander’s beautifully-researched account of each of them reveals the kind of exceptional personalities they were, often top-notch sportsmen as well, and all so very, very young:  Their photographs within the pages of ‘Australian Eagles’ attest to this and reveal fairly each of them as arrestingly handsome, usually with a brave new moustache – as if to mask the fact that they were just boys.  By portraying them as such and quite simply as they were, Kristen Alexander encourages us to feel their loss just as profoundly as it deserves to be.  To marvel at their selflessness, their courage, their dog-fighting brilliance and their contribution towards victory against one of the worst evils the world has ever known.  To remember them.

 

‘Australian Eagles’ in indeed a fitting testament to the young Australians who fought to win the Battle of Britain but most poignantly as they did it a whole world away from home. 

 

‘Australian Eagles – Australians in the Battle of Britain’ by Kristen Alexander. Order now at http://www.alexanderfaxbooks.com.au/available-now-australian-eagles-australians-battle-britain 

 

 

Author Justin Sheedy

 

Reviewer Justin Sheedy is the author of ‘Goodbye Crackernight’ and ‘Nor the Years Condemn’.  See Justin’s Blog http://crackernight.com/

Pat Hughes and the Kanelkampf

The Battle of Britain had not yet officially begun but the Kanelkampf was underway in early July 1940. After 14 interception scrambles on 7 July, 234 Squadron was again busy on 8 July, with continuous convoy duty and ten scrambles. Blue Section—Pat Hughes, Pilot Officer Keith Lawrence and Sergeant George Bailey—set off for their turn at shipping protection at 4.35 p.m. All was quiet as they circled the vessels. At 6.15 p.m., while Pat was flying above a cloud layer and his confrères were maintaining their guard at about 1000 feet, Keith Lawrence espied a Junkers Ju 88 diving steeply. He turned towards the convoy to intercept just as George Bailey sighted it. The Junkers then climbed through the cloud layer to escape, coming right into Pat’s range.

As the enemy aircraft continued to climb, Lawrence carried out a dead astern attack and Pat fired as well; his gun sight was set at 150 yards. The Ju 88 veered to port, and closing from 150 to 50 yards, Pat used a slight deflection, expending all his ammunition; he had fired 2492 rounds. As the Junkers emerged from the cloud, Pat broke away to port and downwards as George Bailey attacked from dead astern. ‘The enemy aircraft gradually lost height in a slow left hand turn, attempted to climb but finally landed on the water. It floated for about 20 minutes and then sank, leaving the men on the surface.’ Pat, Lawrence and Bailey speculated that the ‘apparent cause of destruction was engine failure as the aircraft appeared to be under control until it hit the water’. Whatever the reason, it was a combined effort and ‘this aircraft is claimed by this section’. It was the squadron’s ‘first confirmed enemy casualty’ with a third credit to each pilot. It was also Pat Hughes’s first combat victory and the first indication to Keith Lawrence of what would make Pat a successful fighter pilot: his ability to shoot and at hit a moving target; a ‘natural born good shot’.