Australia's Few. 1 September 1940

On 1 September 1940, Des Sheen and 72 Squadron took part in their first combat since coming south. Roughly 30 Dornier light bombers, escorted by about the same number of Messerschmitt Me 109E single-engine fighters were sighted at Tunbridge Wells.

 

Des lined up a bomber and then ‘glanced behind and found six Me 109s bearing down on me’. He ‘mixed for quite a time’ with them. As he frantically twisted and turned, he ‘collected a shell in the engine. After I had disengaged I was climbing to reengage ... when the Spitfire started to burn’. He ‘was left with no option’. He rolled his Spit on its back and pushed the stick forward. The aircraft bunted and he was out, ‘clean as a whistle’. He somersaulted, straightened out and counted to ten before pulling the ripcord. ‘The parachute opened smoothly and there was a reassuring jolt, as it took effect’. His descent, ‘which took some time, was very pleasant’ but not without a sense of danger. ‘Quite close to me a Messerschmitt 109 went down vertically in flames’ and ‘another Me 109 turned towards me but a Spitfire turned onto his tail and both quickly disappeared. Des was fortunate the Me 109’s attention was deflected from him. ‘The Jerries shoot us coming down now and as I was surrounded didn’t feel too happy.’ As it happened, ‘quite a few Jerries were shot down so I was lucky and got away with it’.

 

Des’s Spitfire crashed at Court Lodge Farm and he landed in a field at Ashford ‘with nothing but a slight jar’. He released his harness and started to roll up the parachute. ‘A young girl came up and eyed me shyly and a few minutes later a young army lieutenant appeared on the scene, doubtfully waving his revolver in my general direction ... wondering whether I was a German.’

 

Australians were not common in the RAF at that stage of the war and the lieutenant did not recognise the dark blue uniform as belonging to an ally. Des ignored the revolver. He continued to pick up his parachute and started to chat with the soldier. All was soon sorted out and Des was staked a meal and a welcome shave at the lieutenant’s mess.

 

1 September was also the day Des Sheen traded in his RAAF uniform for RAF kit and sewed an ‘Australia’ patch on his shoulder. He would not be mistaken for the enemy again.

 

 

Australia's Few. 31 August 1940

31 August was another epic day for Bill Millington. He was in action twice that day. During his first encounter, ‘we engaged about twenty Me 109s and slapped quite a few down. I was again badly shot up and made a forced landing near Folkestone and returned to my station per police car’. He was credited with one Me 109 destroyed.

At 17.45 p.m., 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 Do 215s. Three Me 109s then attacked him. He damaged one and shook off the other two. He was on his own by that stage. He attacked the bombers again but was beset by 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 crashed in flames at Conghurst Farm, Hawkhurst, completely missing the village of Tenterden and, ‘covered in blood and grease’ he ‘managed to scramble out before the machine exploded’.

He ‘eventually finished up in hospital for about ten days, where most of the shrapnel in my thigh was removed. The few pieces remaining will probably eventually work out causing no inconvenience. I can recommend hospital as a very noble institution. The nurses were terrific particularly my little Irish night nurse. Two other officers were with me, and we had quite a few gay evenings together.’

Bill recovered well but  would not return to 79 Squadron. On 19 September he would head to 249 Squadron at North Weald and on his chest would be a DFC ribbon. Attached to the DFC recommendation were some additional remarks by the Air Officer Commanding 11 Group, Air Vice-Marshal Keith Park: 

‘This young Australian officer has shot down six enemy aircraft. He showed great courage in landing his aircraft and so saved it crashing into a village with its engine on fire, despite the fact he was wounded. He has exhibited dash and courage in attacking superior numbers. I consider he is well worthy of reward and strongly recommend him for the Immediate Award of the Distinguished Flying Cross.’

 

 

Australia's Few. 30 August 1940

There was no operational flying for 79 Squadron on the 29th but 30 August 1940 saw the Luftwaffe return in force, with a total of 1345 sorties in a series of large scale attacks launched, for the first time, exclusively against south east targets. At about 10.30 a.m., a large formation was detected off France. As it moved closer to British waters it became apparent that Fighter Command would have to deal with three separate formations of Heinkel He 111s and their escorts. In addition to squadrons already patrolling the coastal airfields, nine more were despatched to airfields and key areas such as Dover and Maidstone. At 11.20 a.m. it was clear that Biggin Hill and Kenley were the main targets.

No. 253 Squadron was recalled from the Maidstone area and directed to Kenley and, at 11.30 a.m., eight aircraft from 79 Squadron were scrambled to patrol Biggin Hill. Green Section met thirty or more Heinkels and claimed a shared destroyed. Meanwhile, led by Teddy Morris, Blue Section faced eighteen He IIIs and thirty Me 110s and 109s. They attacked head on and ‘scattered [the] bomber formation’. Pilot Officer Paul Mayhew claimed one Heinkel destroyed. Pilot Officer Owen Tracey claimed one destroyed Heinkel; there was some suggestion that this Heinkel had been attacked by Spitfires but Tracey was confident of his victory. Teddy Morris chased the leader of the bomber formation then, ‘collided with a Heinkel III and both machines crashed but ... [he] baled out and reached home safely’. He was later credited with one ‘He 111 destroyed by collision’. Bill claimed a destroyed Heinkel and another probably destroyed by the more conventional method of turning his guns on them. While Teddy Morris slowly descended, unhurt, to land at Dorking, Bill flung himself into a hectic dogfight with a Messerschmitt Me 110. He damaged it and, ammunition exhausted, he retreated while under attack by 109s. He then executed a ‘hair-breadth escape’ and ‘limped back home with my machine badly shot up’. It had been ‘holed in 30 places’ and rendered unserviceable. Bill once again proved that he was a fighter pilot of high calibre. When he went on readiness that morning, he already had a personal bag of one destroyed Me 109 and three destroyed He 111s. He was almost an ace. By the time he limped back to Biggin Hill at about 12.15 p.m., he was an ace.

 

 

 

 

Australia's Few. 29 August 1940

As August 1940 drew to a close, the weather, for the time being, was in Fighter Command’s favour. Enemy activity was light with only occasional reconnaissance incursions along the east coast. There was ‘a flap’ at Warmwell on 29 August ‘but the bandits turned back’ and then a quiet day for Ken Holland of 152 Squadron at dispersal as, for the main part, Fighter Command, adopted the policy of leaving the reconnaissance aircraft to it. Ken didn’t mind. He was happy to play out his shift at dispersal and then head off for a swim at Lulworth Cove. John Crossman at Acklington, however, was still itchy. ‘This place is awfully quiet and as yet we haven’t even heard of Jerries and from the look of things won’t’. Patience wasn’t one of John’s strong points.

 

 

 

Beautiful images of Lulworth Cove, near the village of West Lulworth on the Jurassic Coast World Heritage Site in Dorset, southern England, lifted from http://www.lulworthonline.co.uk/

2013 Sabretache Writers Prize

I have just heard some exciting news.

 

I have been awarded the Military Historical Society of Australia's 2013 Sabretache Writers Prize for my article 'Miss Celia Macdonald of the Isles "who has been a particularly good friend" ', which discusses the role Miss Macdonald played in an important WWII hospitality scheme, as well as her importance in the life of Australian Battle of Britain pilot Bill Millington.

 The article will be published in Sabretache, the Society's journal in due course. I also won the 2012 prize.

 

 

Bill Millington, at Ruckley Grange, one of the homes he visited under the auspices of the

Dominion and Allied Services Hospitality Scheme

 

Miss Celia Macdonald

 

 

Australia's Few. 28 August 1940

As it happened, John Crossman didn’t ‘crack off’ on the 27th. He had to leave his car behind as 32 Squadron ‘flew up to Acklington in formation’ on the afternoon of 28 August. ‘There was a raid coming over just as we left and the last thing I heard before we left was from the loud speakers round the camp: “All personnel not actively engaged in getting aircraft off the ground take cover.” ’ They arrived at Acklington late in the afternoon. ‘It’s a lousy place’, thought John. ‘Miles from anywhere and fearfully quiet. We’ll never see any action here.’

 

 

Australia's Few. 27 August 1940

27 August 1940 was recognised in hindsight as one that month’s quietest days. Other than one interception scramble by three aircraft and three security patrols, Pat Hughes and 234 Squadron had little to distract themselves from preparations for Lord Trenchard’s visit on the 31st.

 

Ken Holland of 152 Squadron was up at 5.00 a.m. and down to the flights for a long wait until Green Section scrambled late in the morning. Pilot Officer Beaumont and Flying Officer O’Brien shared a destroyed. Ken may not have had anything to do with the victory but headed into Weymouth to have a celebratory drink anyway.

 

Meanwhile, it was all ago at Biggin Hill and Acklington. 32 Squadron at Biggin Hill had had more than their fair share of the action so far. They badly needed a rest. But you can’t rest without a ready replacement. Bill Millington’s 79 Squadron had had a quiet few weeks of it at Acklington and so, they were ordered south and 32 Squadron were ordered north.

 

John Crossman, who had only arrived back at Biggin Hill the night before from his operational training, had barely enough time to ‘pack enough stuff for three weeks and put it in a big troop carrying plane to be taken up north’. He managed to dash off a note to his family to let them know he was leaving Biggin Hill but expected to be back in three weeks. It was only a brief missive, though, as ‘we have to crack off soon’.

 

The irony of it was that he was well rested, or at least had had no chance to be battle weary. He desperately wanted to get into combat and yet his squadron had just been retired from the immediate aerial arena for the time being.  

 

 

Australia's Few. 26 August 1940

234 Squadron were having a busy time of it on 26 August 1940. At about 5.00 in the evening, five miles south of the Isle of Wight, while on a squadron scramble to patrol Portsmouth, Pat, as Cressy Leader:

‘Intercepted eight Me 109s at 16,000 feet followed by 30 Me 109s 2000 feet above and three miles behind. My section formed astern and attacked the leading eight, who immediately split up into sections of two aircraft each. I attacked the leading two aircraft and fired a burst of five seconds as the rear one which caught fire and dropped vertically. The second aircraft had climbed and was shooting from above but on turning he dived away but was caught by a long burst from dead astern when he pulled out. This aircraft caught fire but stayed in the air for several minutes.’

Pat was not the only one to bring home the honours for 234 Squadron. Pilot officers Bob Doe, Horton and Mortimer Rose as well as Sergeant Hornby each claimed 109s destroyed. As their squadron historian noted, they ‘brought the memorable month of August to a fitting end by shooting down six more Me 109s’. 

 

 

 

Australia's Few. 25 August 1940

Ken  Holland ‘faffed’ until 5.30 p.m. on 25 August 1940 ‘then a RED’. ‘Squadron off and 40 Dornier 17s and Ju 88 and 50+ Me 110s and 109s stepped above them came over at 8000 and dropped about ten eggs’. A large formation of more than 300 aircraft had split into three when reaching the coast and each third sought out Dorset targets. Hornchurch, North Weald and Manston (twice) had been bombed the day before in Goering’s new offensive. It was now Warmwell’s turn while the other formation offshoots attacked Portland and Weymouth.

 As 152 Squadron scrambled to meet the enemy force, Ken rushed to the ‘shelter trench with the CO and troops.’ The sick quarters were destroyed, both hangars were damaged and telephone lines and teleprinter were out of commission. Ken was far from frightened and generally impressed by the airfield defence. ‘Light Bofors on the ‘drome were super and kept popping away—got one.’

 

As Ken counted the exploding ‘eggs’ and took note of the locations of ‘some time bombs’—delayed action bombs—152 Squadron engaged the enemy west of Portland. Sergeant Denis Robinson recalled that ‘the sky around me was filled with tracer fire in all directions and there were 109s everywhere. 152 broke formation and it was every man for himself’. Pilot Officer Eric ‘Boy’ Marrs remembered ‘dozens of escort fighters’. As instructed by Goering, the escorts clung to their bombers and, as the ‘engagement became a collection of dog fights’, Marrs and his compatriots ‘got mixed up with these without managing to attack the bombers at all. Other squadrons which arrived were a bit too late to prevent the bombing and the bombers were more or less unhindered in their work’.

The squadron ‘bag’ was respectable, with claims for two destroyed Me 109s, an Me 110 destroyed by Marrs and one probable Ju 88. But as far as Ken was concerned, ‘152 Squadron boobed’. Apart from what he considered a low tally, ‘we lost PO Wildblood, PO Hogg shot down’. It seems his opinion, without benefit of experience, was shared by his fellow squadron members. Boy Marrs reflected on the day’s efforts. ‘We lost two people that day and only had three confirmed and one unconfirmed ... I don’t suppose we ought to complain really, but it is always a blow when people don’t return’.

 Vale Wildblood and Hogg. Timothy Seddon Wildblood, a Cranwell graduate, had been a foundation member of 152 Squadron and since 27 February 1940 had notched up three destroyed and two shared victories. Ken and young Wildblood were the same age. Only five days separated their birthdays. Richard Malzard Hogg, who had been with the squadron since July, was also a Cranwell graduate. He had initially flown Blenheims with 145 Squadron and Gladiators with 263 Squadron in the ill-fated Norway campaign. Born on 2 July 1919, he was six months older than Ken.

 

 

152 Squadron, Warmwell: front row, l to r: SGT. ROBINSON, P/O. WILDBLOOD (vale), SQN. ADJUTANT, F/O. PETER O’BRIAN, F/L. BOITEL-GILL, SQN/LDR. PETER DEVITT, F/LT.THOMAS, P/O. ERIC MARRS, F/O. EDWARD HOGG, SQN. ENGINEER OFFICER F/O. DEVERELL, P/O. COX, SGT. KEN HOLLAND.

Australia's Few. 24 August 1940

24 August 1940. Fighter Command’s holiday from heavy action was also over, as pilots contended with six heavy attacks in the space of ten hours. In hindsight, it became apparent that a new offensive, hallmarked by two weeks of large scale aerial bombardment, had opened. Luftwaffe activity may have increased in intensity but 152 Squadron at Warmwell was not immediately called to battle. Ken Holland carried out some formation practice and had a few drinks with a new friend. Ken and Sergeant Harold Akroyd were becoming quite pally and over the next few weeks the young Australian would spend much of his free time with 26-year-old Akroyd and his wife, who lived at the nearby Frampton Arms to be close to her husband. Akroyd had been called up at the same time as Ken and had already contributed to the squadron tally board, having shot down a Stuka on 15 August. Ken thought him ‘a good soul’.

 

 

 

I am searching for more information about Sergeant Harold Akroyd and his wife. If anyone can help, please get in touch. 

Australia's Few. 23 August 1940

Yet another day weather-blighted day as far as the Luftwaffe was concerned but an opportunity to rest and re-gather strength for Fighter Command. The Germans attempted a few incursions, but, where Fighter Command decided to intercept, nothing was spotted because of the cloud cover. Happily, this was another day with no casualties.

Ken Holland carried out some more formation practice and John Crossman had two aerial outings. The first, fifty minutes in Hurricane P3268 and the second was one hour five minutes in L1555. He also despatched a cable to his fiancée, Pat Foley, for her birthday the next day. 

 

Australia's Few. 22 August 1940

22 August was another bad weather day with limited operational activity for Fighter Command. Apart from Ken Holland carrying out formation practice where the ‘CO led us an awful dance in line ahead’ and John Crossman managing to fit in 35 minutes practice in Hurricane L1769, it was another quiet day for the Australians.

 

 

Australia's Few. 21 August 1940

The weather was getting worse. There was only a little enemy activity and, again, no RAF casualties. Pat Hughes was rostered off, as was Des Sheen and Bill Millington. Ken Holland was at the flights again and had some formation practice but during the relatively quiet day he had plenty of time to write up his flying log—‘an awful bore’. At Sutton Bridge, John Crossman carried out some flying exercises, increasing further his familiarity with the Hurricane.

Those who read The Times would have been heartened by the reports of Churchill’s speech in the Commons the day before. The Times journalist considered it a ‘spirited and confident speech’ and noted that it was ‘frequently interrupted by bursts of applause’. It a ‘fine survey of the war’ and The Times considered that ‘the effect of the air battles is to reassure any doubters there may be that ultimate victory is certain.’

The home intelligence gathers spoke to people all around the country to gauge the reception of Churchill’s speech. They discovered that it was received extremely well throughout the country. The consensus in Northern Ireland was that it was the most forceful and heartening of any Churchill had made previously. Bristol was confident that the British were top dogs and believed that, no matter what slight doubts might have been felt before, they would win. Newcastle reported that the speech had created a strong feeling of confidence.

And indeed, the spirit in Newcastle was high. One of the residents from from Newcastle-on-Tyne, the city of Bill Millington’s birth, wrote to the Adelaide connection to assure them that all was well despite the war and threats from bombardment:

‘When we get into the air-raid shelter we feel quite safe. 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. The lady, two doors higher up the street, has her mother, aged 82, staying with her, and the other night when we were in the shelter for three and a quarter hours they had their oil stove on, and made tea. The old lady was sitting drinking tea, very comfortable, when she looked up and said, “Mind, Mary these are nice little homes, but if you had your pictures up it would look much more ship-shape”’.

 

The Battle of Britain might not be over but the hearts of the British were strong and they were confident in the men who were defending them. Des Sheen certainly had it right when he wrote five days earlier that the RAF was popular.

Australia's Few. 20 August 1940

20 August 1940 saw some action, with one loss but, generally speaking, it was a quiet day for Fighter Command. It was raining in the north, and both 72 and 79 squadrons at Acklington had no operational work whatsoever. It was so quiet that their respective squadron diarists did not even bother to record ‘nil report’ in their operations record books. There were scattered showers in the south and 234 Squadron at Middle Wallop was also quiet. At least their diarist picked up the pen to officially record ‘nil report’. Hopefully Des Sheen, Bill Millington and Pat Hughes were having a good rest as the rain poured down because they needed to build up their strength because it wasn’t going to be quiet for long.

Despite the weather, Ken Holland headed to the flights at Warmwell. He had high hopes that he would be in the air that day. He was excited to hear that there was a flap on and he would be going up with O’Brian and Reddington, if there were any machines left. But then the flap was off. A disappointed Ken did, however, make it into the air. Formation practice.

Our Australians may have had a quiet day of it, but Winston Church was not resting. He was about to immortalise those who fought and died in the Battle of Britain, even before its conclusion.

Addressing the House of Commons, Churchill spoke for nation and Empire:

‘The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the World War by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.’

 

 

Churchill did not exclude the valiant airmen of Bomber and Coastal commands in his speech. He thanked all ‘British airmen’ but, despite this, ‘The Few’ soon came to stand collectively for the men of Fighter Command, ‘the fighter pilots, whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day’.

 

 

 

(Image lifted from http://www.winstonchurchill-quotes.com/this-was-our-finest-hour/)

Australia's Few. 19 August 1940

Ken Holland received orders to go to Warmwell on 17 August. He arrived there late at night and, on reporting to the orderly office, found there was ‘nothing doing’. He met a friend in Weymouth and stayed there overnight. It seems as if the ‘nothing doing’ extended to the 18th as, after breakfast at his hotel, he was off for a swim, then lunch and tea out. ‘Back late and slept at the Albany’. He returned to Warmwell on 19 August where he was introduced to Squadron Leader Devitt, the Commanding Officer of 152 Squadron. He was initially allocated to A Flight but later that day changed to B Flight. It was a grand day for the 20 year old Australian.

 

 

BTW: Have you visited http://www.152hyderabad.co.uk/ or liked the 152 Squadron tribute page on facebook? https://www.facebook.com/pages/A-Tribute-to-152-Hyderabad-Squadron-1939-to-1967/622767317757037 

Australia's Few. 18 August 1940

This day brought the largest aerial confrontations of the Battle of Britain, with both sides suffering great losses. Indeed, both RAF and Luftwaffe combined lost more aircraft on the 18th that at any other time during the Battle. It was such an intense day that Alfred Price coined the phrase: The Hardest Day.

By this stage, Pat Hughes of 234 Squadron had gained a reputation as an aggressive and competent fighter pilot and, just after 15.00 p.m. on the 18th he increased his personal tally against the enemy when, during an encounter over the Isle of Wight. As Pat tells it:

As Blue 1 I was on patrol when about 20 Me 109s appeared above me in the sun. I climbed towards them and my section attacked individually. I fired a burst at one Me 109 with no effect. Then I found myself attacked by two Me 109s one of which fired at me at extreme range. I turned and set this a/c on fire but was immediately attacked by the second one so could not follow it down. He attacked and climbed away and then dived. I followed until he started to pull up and shot him with two bursts of 2 secs each. This pilot immediately jumped out and landed on the Isle of Wight and his a/c crashed there a few seconds later, on fire. When I had observed this crash I saw a second cloud of smoke and fire just off the Isle of Wight which appeared to be the first 109.

 

Pat was credited with the two destroyed Messerschmitts.

 

 

Australia's Few. 17 August 1940

17 August was a rare day during the hectic weeks of the Battle of Britain. No casualties were recorded. But many had been lost beforehand: 78 pilots had been killed and 27 wounded, mostly experienced airmen, in the last 28 days. In addition, some had been taken prisoner of war. And all that on top of the losses during the Battle of France. The OTUs could not keep up with this rate of attrition, even with courses slashed to push men through to operational squadrons post haste. Ken Holland, for instance, went through what had once been a four week course in eleven days. At this point, Fighter Command called for volunteers from the ranks of bomber pilots and the Fleet Air Arm. Two Australians who had flown the Fairey Battle in the France heeded this call, Flight Lieutenant John Hewson of 142 Squadron (who, although English born had an Australian mother and after the war would migrate to Australia and take out Australian citizenship) and Robert Bungey of 226 Squadron, who had been born in Fullerton, South Australia on 4 October 1914.

Robert took his last flight with 226 Squadron, in Battle L5498 with Sergeant Sullivan, to Carlisle and return on the 17th. He was then posted to 145 Fighter Squadron. He took his first flight in Hurricane R4177 on 22 August 1940, doing circuits and landings. He spent the rest of the month on training flights, familiarising himself with the local environs and converting to the Hurricane.

 

Robert had been a cadet at RAAF Point Cook, and was in the same class as Stuart Walch and Jack Kennedy and Battle of France star (and sad victim) Leslie Clisby. Robert graduated 31st in his class with 69.47%. He joined the RAF on a short service commission on 26 August 1937. He may have been in the RAF for almost three years by the time he joined Fighter Command, but he still proudly clung to his Australian service uniform. He carefully nursed it, darning it himself, and, despite sleeping in it for weeks on end during the blitzkrieg on France and the low countries, where ‘a year’s peace-time wear was crowded into a week’, he clung to it and its tangible connection to home. Despite its increasing dilapidation he did not replace it until June 1941 when he was promoted to command 452, the Australian Spitfire squadron—almost five years after he first donned it as an RAAF cadet.

 

 

Australia's Few. 16 August 1940

After his hectic session in the air the day before, Des Sheen had the day off. He might not have realised it at the time but Acklington was once again becoming an aerial backwater. With no flying duties on offer, Des decided to pen a long overdue letter to his family. He had received two letters from them that week, both taking many weeks to arrive and he was concerned that his parents were worrying unduly about him.

You seem rather depressed by the way things are going. Trouble is you are all too far away. If you could see the confidence the people here have it would amaze you as it has me.

Things really aren’t too bad. The last 4 or 5 days have cost the German air force nearly 400 aircraft, probably more. As a result the RAF is quite popular and it’s good to know our service is appreciated.

Food is plentiful and the public laugh at the invasion. Not that they don’t expect it but they are determined to make it fail. The confidence is incredible...So what the devil—why worry?

Young Des with his parents, Harriet and Walter Sheen. 

Australia's Few. 15 August 1940

On 15 August, the Luftwaffe launched a day-long series of attacks designed to saturate RAF defences. Almost all of Britain was within range of enemy bombers.
 

A heavy raid aimed at Edinburgh was identified. Just after midday, 72 Squadron were directed to intercept it. Their eleven Spitfires met a large formation of He111 bombers and their escort of Me110s. It was a mighty force, the largest Des Sheen ever encountered. All he saw was line upon line of bombers.
 

72 Squadron attacked. The enemy formation split up and Des eased himself into a defensive circle formed by the Me110s. He closed on one and opened fire. It exploded in a mass of debris.
 

He spotted another defensive circle. He aimed at a Messerschmitt but missed. He quickly lined up another and fired again. Success! Flame and smoke poured from its engine. The stricken fighter attempted to ram Des’s Spitfire but Des dived steeply and it disappeared, burning furiously. The sky then emptied; the battle had moved on. He was low on fuel so returned to base. Combat had lasted just five minutes.
 

Des noted in his log book his claims of two Me 110s and a ‘squadron bag’ of eleven. His personal total was now 3 1/3 destroyed. He recalled that the atmosphere at Acklington at the end of the day was ‘very elated ... because it was the first action for some of them and it was a successful day out.’
 

It was also a successful day for Australians. Bill Millington of 79 Squadron shot down three German bombers. In the South, John Pain of 32 Squadron, the youngest Australian in the Battle of Britain, probably destroyed a Me 109 and Pat Hughes of 234 Squadron, shot down one Me 110 and shared another destroyed.
 

Fighter Command more than held its own in what was for far the largest air battle in which it had engaged. 76 enemy aircraft had been shot down but at a cost. Fighter Command lost 34 aircraft destroyed and 17 killed, including 25-year-old Western Australian Pilot Officer Frank Cale of 266 Squadron, who had attended the same school as Dick Glyde and had received his RAF short term commission in May 1939. An Australian also joined the ranks of prisoners of war when Pilot Officer Vincent Parker of 234 Squadron, was picked up by a German launch after baling out near the Isle of Wight.
 

Despite Fighter Command’s the losses, Winston Churchill described 15 August 1940, the day that became known to the Luftwaffe as ‘Black Thursday’, as ‘one of the greatest days in history’. Fighter Command rightly claimed victory in the largest air battle in which it had engaged.

 

 

Australia's Few. 14 August 1940

When 234 Squadron arrived at Middle Wallop on 14 August 1940, they knew they had finally joined the war. The aerodrome had been bombed the day before by a lone Junkers Ju 88, the only one of its unit to locate the RAF station. Bombs fell near the village of Nether Wallop and 238 Squadron’s soon-to-be-vacated dispersal with, according to 238’s diarist, ‘no damage caused’. The other Ju 88s dropped their bombs on Andover. Half an hour after Pat Hughes arrived, Middle Wallop was targeted again, and this time with more success. 234 Squadron’s Bob Doe recalled that ‘we landed on the grass airfield, were put into a lorry, and half way up to the mess, they bombed the airfield. One of the hangars was hit and a WAAF was killed in a trench.’ According to Eugene ‘Red’ Tobin, an American pilot with 609 Squadron, also located at Middle Wallop, ‘it was carnage’ at dispersal. He saw ‘one overalled person with his foot and half a leg blown off, another had a great red patch on his chest with a load of mess hanging from it, another was rolling in agony with one of his arms missing’. One airman was wounded and three were killed, as were some civilians working on the station. Three Blenheims and several Spitfires were destroyed but, fortunately, 234 Squadron had landed away from their hangars so their Spits were safe.

 

 

Australia's Few. 13 August 1940

Goering decided to launch Adlerangriff on 13 August but the early morning was foggy and thick cloud covered the English Channel. The meteorologists, however, predicted it would clear by the afternoon. Goering decided to postpone operations until 2.00 p.m. Unfortunately, the order to defer take-off did not reach all of his forces.

 

At Exeter, Dick Glyde and 87 Squadron’s B Flight were on dawn readiness. Fighter Command picked up a number of plots and dispatched squadrons to intercept. One formation was heading towards Littlehampton so, between 6.30 a.m. and 6.40 a.m., 601 Squadron from Tangmere and 213 Squadron from Exeter were sent to reinforce the defences of the broad area between Littlehampton and Portland. B Flight were ordered to assist 601 and 213. They were vectored to the Selsey Bill–Portsmouth area.

 

The main battle bypassed Blue Section. Squadron Leader Dewar, who was Blue Leader, Dick and Pilot Officer Jay had been in the air for about fifty minutes when they sighted a lone Junkers Ju 88 flying east about twenty miles south of Bognor–Selsey Bill. Dewar ordered Dick and Jay into line astern for the attack. The Junkers climbed into the cloud, but Dewar, Dick and Jay followed it. They saw it plunge, and they dived with it. The enemy aircraft came out of the cloud and Dewar was so close he had to break away; Dick and Jay also broke away, Dick to the right and Jay to the left. Dick and Jay attacked from astern and Dewar from quarter and above. The Ju 88’s starboard engine stopped and, about 30 seconds later, Dick, Dewar and Jay watched it plummet into the sea. Dewar saw one of its crew bale out but saw no one else leave the aircraft as it began to sink. As they left the area, only the tail was visible. Blue Section had successfully accounted for another enemy aircraft. Dick’s score was now 3¼ plus another 1/3 destroyed, 1/3 probably destroyed and 1 damaged.

 

Dick, Dewar and Jay formed up to return to base. Dick was in the rear. Jay looked behind and noticed white vapour pouring out of Dick’s aircraft: the Ju 88 had hit the glycol tank. When Jay and Dewar looked again, Dick had gone. He had plunged into the water off Selsey Bill.

 

Richard Lindsay Glyde, known as Dick to his family from an early age and Dickie to his squadron friends, was the fifth Australian to die in the Battle of Britain.

 

Australia's Few. 12 August 1940

Carr Withall was born in Toodyay, on the north-eastern edge of Perth in Western Australia on 11 May 1911. By October 1915 the family was living in Geelong, Victoria and later moved to Melbourne. Carr’s eyes had turned skyward from an early age and, while still at primary school, he was awarded a Gould League bird lovers certificate. While many young boys dreamed of looping the loop in a powered aircraft, Carr became fascinated by gliding and, in 1929, joined the newly formed Melbourne Gliding Club. After leaving Scotch College, Melbourne in 1927 with his Leaving Certificate he joined the State Bank of Victoria. He soon discovered an affinity for gliding and was known as one of Victoria’s pioneering gliders. He was recognised as a good pilot and gifted instructor. Most of the club’s leading pilots were his protégés and the high standard of gliding in Melbourne was attributed to him.

 

In July 1935 he resigned from the club to travel to England with his parents. joined the RAF on a short service commission in October 1936. After training He was posted to 19 Squadron at Duxford in Cambridgeshire on 7 August 1937. He was recognised as a good pilot and was popular. Because he was older than some of the other pilots fresh out of training school he was nicknamed ‘Granny’, and the younger ones would teasingly offer to carry his parachute around for him in deference to his great age. He became great friends with James Coward who recalled that the Australian was ‘very madly keen to fly’ and was so proficient at handling the fighter aircraft that at one point he flew solo during an air display at Hendon. Carr was promoted to flying officer in April 1939 and acting flight lieutenant on 31 May. At the outbreak of war he was in charge of A Flight and, like his confrères, was well conversant with Spitfire, so much so that within the month he was posted as a flight commander to the newly reforming 152 Squadron. There he gained a new nickname. He was called ‘Elsie’, from his initials L.C.

12 August 1940 was the day the Germans decided to try and knock out the radar stations between the Thames Estuary and Portsmouth, as well as launch raids on forward airfields in preparation for Adlerangriff. Just after midday, while patrolling over Catherine’s Point, 152 Squadron encountered a large enemy force south of the Isle of Wight. The e/a had already struck at the Ventnor radar station. The odds were overwhelming but 152 acquitted themselves well. Sadly, two of their men failed to return, 22 year-old Pilot Officer Douglas Clayton Shepley and 29 year-old Flight Lieutenant Carr Withall. He was the fourth Australian entitled to the Clasp to lose his life in the Battle of Britain. He had married in January 1940 and his twin sons were born six weeks later on 25 September.

 

 

See Rob Rooker's tribute website to 152 Squadron at  http://www.152hyderabad.co.uk/index.htm

Australia's Few. 11 August 1940

Shortly after 10.00 a.m. on 11 August 1940 Stuart Walch and his squadron comrades rushed to their Hurricanes. They had been called to patrol Portland. For once, it was a far from uneventful morning. They encountered an enemy force of about 150+ aircraft. Stuart was leading and was also Blue Leader. This was his 55th sortie since 238 Squadron was declared operational.
 

In the ensuing battle, Blue Section was caught between two waves of enemy aircraft. Stuart did not baulk at the overwhelming numbers but led his flight into the onslaught. He battled bravely but he and his section plummeted into the water five or so miles south of Swanage.
 

Flight Lieutenant Stuart Crosby Walch was only 23. He was the third Australian entitled to the Battle of Britain clasp to die. He was one of the first Australians to score a victory against the enemy during the Battle of Britain and accounted for two destroyed enemy aircraft, two shared destroyed, one unconfirmed shared destroyed and one damaged. He was known as the father of his squadron and would shepherd young pilots so they could make their first ‘kills’ safely. 238 Squadron lost ‘an officer of very great promise. He was dauntless in the face of danger, careless of his own personal safety and comfort, thoughtful for all who came in contact with him’.

 

Vale Stuart Walch.

 

 

 

 

Australia's Few. 10 August 1940

After his first flight in Hurricane P3528 on 4 August 1940, John Crossman flew almost every day at Sutton Bridge. Intent on completing the course as soon as possible so he could ‘go back to my squadron and finally get into the war’ he systematically worked his way through the set flying exercises which ‘puts the finishing touches to us’, and notched up five hours and fifty minutes in the Hurricane between 4–9 August. Although ‘every day we practise combat fighting’ they only used cine-camera guns. It wasn’t until 10 August that John ‘fired all eight guns for the first time, it was quite a thrill’.

 

Australia's Few. 9 August 1940

After a session of blind flying in a Harvard on the 8th, during which he ‘was lousy as usual’ Ken Holland was in the air again practising formation flying on 9 August 1940. Things didn’t go as planned as the other pilot managed to get them lost. He landed at New Yeovil to work out how to get home again while Ken circled above. Ken was enjoying his training but did not like night flying in fact, it was ‘always something to avoid’. Even so, he was able to put up with it because ‘I like these Spitfires’. Happily, he was not scheduled for night flying on the 9th, so was off to the flicks at Stroud.

 

 

Australia's Few. 8 August 1940

Stuart Walch and 238 Squadron carried out convoy duties during the first week of August. Just after mid day on 8 August, Stuart led the squadron into action a few miles south of the Isle of White. They intercepted a large formation over the ‘Peewit’ convoy, which had been under attack for a number of hours. Stukas with their wailing sirens were dive bombing the ships, aeroplanes were all over the sky, and Stuart and his men flung themselves into the swirling mass. A ‘confused dog-fight occurred’.

 

The squadron claimed ‘nine enemy aircraft falling to 238’s guns’. Unfortunately, the cost was high. The A Flight commander, Flight Lieutenant Eric Turner—who had impressed his new friends with his keenness, energy and good humour—was lost, as was one of Stuart’s B Flight charges, 24-year-old Flying Officer Derek MacCaw who was renowned on the squadron for his ‘slightly dreamy, dignified personality’.

 

Making things worse, Squadron Leader Jim Fenton went out to look for Turner. He spotted a German seaplane and attacked it but as it was going so slow, he overshot and copped a blast from the seaplane’s gunner. Shortly afterwards, his engine seized. He had to bale as he had no height, banging his head on the way out. Dazed, he bobbed in the water for some time until a trawler picked him up. He required seventeen stitches in his forehead and three weeks sick leave from the squadron. At this point, Stuart was the senior man, operationally speaking, on the squadron.