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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

And he did live up to his ideals.

On 31August 1940, Bill and his section were tasked with aerodrome guard duties when fifteen Dornier Do 215s escorted by large numbers of Messerschmitt Me 109s and 110s were sighted. Bill attacked, setting alight the port engine of one of the Dorniers. Three Me 109s then attacked him. He damaged one and shook off the other two. He was on his own by that stage but attacked the bombers again and was beset by another two Me 109s. He shook off one and shot the other down. In doing so he was attacked by another Me109 and was wounded in the left thigh. His engine started to burn and flames licked his skin.

As the flames caught hold, Bill had two choices but his decision was obvious. ‘I considered it unwise to bale out’, he later explained, ‘as my machine would probably have crashed into a small village’. Bill’s Hurricane plummetted in flames and, ‘covered in blood and grease’ he ‘managed to scramble out before the machine exploded’.

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 25 October 1940.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Australians in the Battle of Britain. John Crossman

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

 

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

 

 

 

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

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 24 October 1940.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh dear.

 

 

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

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 23 October 1940. Des Sheen

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 23 October 1940. Des Sheen

After a lengthy break from operational flying after he baled out of his Spitfire, injured in battle on 5 September, Des Sheen was finally in the air again (operationally speaking) on 23 October 1940. In Spitfire X4596, he went carried out a patrol with Pilot Officer Secretan. It was only a short one, from 16.45 to 17.05 but it was a start. Sadly, not much of one, though, as he was absent from the ops list until the 27th.

 

And so, with little else to report for this day 72 years ago, it occurred to me that I haven’t told you how Des Sheen caught the flying bug.

Des Sheen had been dreaming of flying ever since, as a nine-year-old boy, he had witnessed the great aerial display that had been laid on as part of the celebrations for the opening of Australia’s provisional Parliament House in Canberra on 9 May 1927.

The sky was a fleckless cobalt blue sky (‘royal weather’, was the consensus of opinion). The principal roads into Canberra were ‘swarming with cars’ from the earliest hours. The staging flanking the steps of Parliament House was crowded with official guests with their ‘forests of silk hats’. Canberrans took the day off work or escaped from household duties to witness the Duke and Duchess of York open Parliament House on Monday 9 May 1927. Des was also in the crowd, eagerly anticipating the day’s events.

It was an occasion full of colour and pomp, punctuated by the massive forces’ march past, the boom of the royal salute, Dame Nellie Melba’s rendition of ‘God Save the King’ and the formal guards of honour. The highlight for the government was when the Duke of York unlocked the massive doors of Parliament House with a golden key, but the climax of the day for Des was the aerial show that The Canberra Times predicted would be the ‘most impressive and spectacular display ever witnessed in Australia’.

Des may have been overwhelmed by the ceremony and gala of the grand opening but he did not speak of any of that when he recalled the occasion many years later. Nor did he recall the day’s tragic conclusion when Flying Officer Francis Ewen lost control of his Scout Experimenter and crashed among horrified spectators. He only remembered the RAAF flypast, and the fact that one of the DH9s landed in a paddock near his home. From that moment, he was ‘hooked’. ‘I thought, “well, that’s for me” and that’s when I decided as soon as I was old enough I would join the air force.’

And he did.

 

 

Who'd have thought this gun totting toddler with his parents, dressed in Sunday (or visiting) best would have turned into such a brilliant pilot!

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 22 October 1940. Peter Moore

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 22 October 1940. Peter Moore

After his initiation into operational flying with 253 Squadron on 20 October, if not combat, Peter Moore did not fly on 21 October 1940. But he was in the air again on the 22nd. He carried out two sorties with the squadron that day. The first, in Hurricane V7499, was at 10.20 a.m. for 45 minutes, and the second, in L1666, was a two hour one at 12.15 p.m.

Because most of Peter’s Battle of Britain experience has been in training schools, he has appeared infrequently in these posts. I have told you a little of his background but nothing of his academic and sporting life at Oxford University.

Peter matriculated—was formally admitted—to Oxford University on 12 October 1937, during the Michaelmas term, and took up residency in University College.

He planned on embarking on a diplomatic career when he left university and so he enrolled in PPE, short for Politics, Philosophy and Economics.

As well as attending lectures and writing up notes, Peter had to research and write a weekly paper for his tutors. He would meet in the tutor’s rooms, read his paper and the tutor would make comments and discuss it. It was all very civilised.

Peter joined an informal discussion group convened by the Master of University College, Sir William Beveridge (who, later as chair of the Inter-Departmental Committee on Social Insurance and Allied Services, would be instrumental in creating the template for post-war British social policy and the creation of the Welfare State).

The discussions mainly focussed on politics and economics. During the 1937−38 academic year Peter read out a paper entitled ‘Unemployment: the Administrative Problem’ and it appears as if he was giving it a dry run amongst likeminded friends before submitting it to Harry V. Hodson, the editor of The Round Table. In his paper, Peter set out to analyse certain key features in the current system of unemployment relief to discover flaws, if any, and stressed that a fundamental problem in the system was the relationship of relief to wages. He believed that the solution lay more on the side of wages than on the side of relief.

Hodson considered that Peter’s paper was ‘extraordinarily good’ and congratulated him on it, noting that ‘I can’t think of any important point that you have missed, though perhaps in a longer paper one would have spent more time on the relation between public works and relief’. Despite Hodson’s congratulations, it does not seem as if he published Peter’s paper; there is no indication in the letter of a publication date.

It was not all study for Peter. Although he did not appear too keen on sports while at Xavier, he took up golf and tennis and soon became an enthusiastic rower.

In 1938, Peter rowed in University College’s Second Eight in both Torpids and Eights Week and, in 1939 rowed in the First Eight in the two events. Such was his dedication he also coached the Second Eight for the 1939 Eights Week.

 

 

(Peter Moore with his rowing crew at Oxford. Second from left, leaning forward.)

 

Undergraduates had any number of clubs to choose from for extracurricular activities. Some considered the Oxford University Air Squadron to be the best club in Oxford and with its long waiting lists it had a certain cachet and glamour and Peter was one who fell to the lure of Oxford’s best club and he signed up as a social member on 26 April 1939. He became a full member on 2 May. Peter joined the summer camp training camp that year, joined the RAFVR and, in September 1940, along with all the other reservists, was called up, thus putting him on the (flight)path that lead him to the Battle of Britain.