Australia's Few. 31 October 1940

And so, on 31 October 1940, the Battle of Britain was over. Of the ’30 or so’ Australians who had fought 13 had died and one had been taken prisoner of war. More were to die before the end of the war, including Pilot Officer Peter John Moore, who was listed missing in action on 3 June 1942. Des Sheen was one who survived the war. He went on to enjoy a happy marriage, a good career with the RAF and a satisfying ‘retirement’ in the British aviation industry. He died in 2001, aged 83. He ‘enjoyed every minute’ of his extensive and varied career with the RAF. ‘I was lucky all the way through with postings and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’

 

This is my final daily post on the actions of John ‘Jack’ Connolly Kennedy, Stuart Crosby Walch, Richard ‘Dick’ Lindsay Glyde, Paterson Clarence Hughes, Kenneth Christopher Holland, John Dallas Crossman, William Henry Millington Jr, and Desmond Frederick Burt Sheen.

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

 

 

Farewell, men of honour and courage. Vale all good and brave men who fought and died in the Battle of Britain, and after, and during all wars. They will be remembered.

 

 

Australia's Few. 30 October 1940

On 30 October 1940—during a day that Tom Neil would later recall as ‘a miserable, bitty and perfectly bloody day—23 year-old Pilot Officer William Henry Millington, Jr, DFC, took off on his last sortie.

The squadron was patrolling North Weald aerodrome at midday, at about 20,000 feet. Then, according to the squadron diarist:

‘8–10 Messerschmitt 109s [were] sighted at 28,000 feet. These enemy aircraft scattered and individual chases took place. Pilots noticed that groups of 109s repeatedly flew out to sea and then turned back again as if to entice others out to sea.’

It seems, according to squadron historian Brian Cull, that Bill succumbed to the enticement as, after ‘finding himself caught up in a series of sporadic actions...over the Channel...[h]is aircraft was last seen chasing a German fighter out to sea; it is believed Bill was the victim of Fw Bielefeldt of 3 Staffel [I/JG51] who claimed a Hurricane at about this time.’

The strange thing of it is, that Tom Neil, who had taken off on the same patrol but had to return to base with engine trouble, was not entirely convinced about the enticement scenario:

‘It was said on that fatal day that the Hun 109s enticed our squadron out into the Channel, and it may be so, although it is probably just conjecture. Much more certain is the fact that, if the Hurricanes were at 28,000 feet—which apparently they were—they were far above their best operating height and were fighting at a great disadvantage.’

Certainly, Tom did not recall anything of Bill forsaking normal fighter practice and ‘being particularly individualistic, or going off at dawn on special lone forays, as has been suggested. He may have done so but I can’t bring any such incidents to mind’.

On that sad day, ‘with the loss of Bill Millington especially upsetting’, Tom could barely believe that Bill was missing: ‘I always DID feel that he was sufficiently competent and experienced NOT to be shot down, so it came as something of a shock when he disappeared when over the Channel.’

Tom hoped that Bill would turn up but ‘the fact that he had been over the Channel seemed to reduce that possibility’.

Bill’s disappearance was felt by all. As Tich Palliser recalled it, ‘the whole squadron was sick when Bill was lost; he had been well liked, was a nice lad and had made a great impression on the squadron. He was very much missed.’

And indeed he was especially missed by his furred and feathered friends. According to Tom Neil: ‘In dispersal the little dog Pipsqueak and Wilfred the duck wandered about, mournful reminders of their absent master. If only they knew! But, perhaps they did.’

From his first victory on 9 July 1940, Bill had accumulated a total of 9 and 2 shared destroyed, 4 probables and 3 damaged. He had lived his life under the principles of Scout Law, in particular ‘Freedom, Honour and Fair Play’ and, since leaving his family to go to England to serve his mother land, he ‘had endeavoured to live up to those standards dictated by Honour and Chivalry’. He was sure that he had not failed his parents in living up to these ideals. In a final accolade from his squadron friend Tom Neil, it is clear he had not:

‘I knew him to be a brave and capable colleague and friend, who fought with distinction and was a credit to himself, to his parents, and to all who were close to him. He served both Britain and Australia well. He answered the call to arms and gave all he had to give—with good grace and with cheerful willingness. And as they might well be tempted to say in Australia, ‘G’d on yer, mate!’

Bill Millington, born in Newcastle UK and raised in Edwardstown South Australia disappeared without a trace. On this, the second last day of the Battle of Britain, and the last day of 249 Squadron’s operations in the Battle—there was bad weather and no activity on the 31st—Bill became the 13th Australian entitled to the Battle of Britain Clasp to die. He is remembered on Panel 9 of the Runnymede Memorial.

Vale Bill.

 

 

Australia's Few. 29 October 1940

The Luftwaffe put on a show on 29 October 1940that resulted in what 249 squadron diarist considered ‘a lively day for North Weald. And indeed it was. Bill Millington was in the air four times. The first was an early morning solo patrol of North Weald. That was quiet, as was his second and third sorties. But, at about 16.40 p.m., when the squadron was ordered to patrol the base at 15,000 feet in company of 257 Squadron which had arrived at North Weald earlier that month, they encountered a nasty surprise.

As 249 were taking off, the aerodrome was dive-bombed by about twelve Me 109s which, at this stage of the war, had been adapted to carry bombs and act as ‘hit and run’ bombers. These twelve were under the protection of more 109s above. Red Section got off safely despite the falling bombs and Bill ‘took off as quickly as possible behind Red Section’.

As one 500 lb bomb landed in the middle of the aerodrome, Yellow Section ‘took right off over the exploding bomb’. Pilot Officer Lofts’s Hurricane was badly damaged but he was able to land safely. Sergeant Tich Palliser, who was already airborne, was hit by flying debris which knocked off part of his prop. To make matters worse, his engine was in bad shape so he circled the airfield and landed. And what a sight he saw.

The squadron diarist recorded that about 40 bombs were dropped in all. A hangar was destroyed, a lorry burst into flames and one bomb landing at the end of the station between the latrine and dining hall, resulting in a great deal of damage. One man, who was in the latrine at the time, was taken to hospital with shrapnel wounds and died the next day. 257’s casualties were much worse. Between the two squadrons, 19 were killed on the ground and 42 injured. Of those, according to Brian Cull, the squadron historian, six of the fatalities and 12 of the injured occurred on the airfield.

Meanwhile, in the air, Red Section gave chase to the departing raiders, which were heading west, with Bill following closely.

He was a little behind Red which were catching up to the Me 109s and so he ‘opened up to maximum speed’. By about 17.00 p.m. he had ‘gradually overhauled e/a which had climbed to 3000 feet’ above the coast west of Southminster. There he saw:

‘Four Me 109s in front with two He 113s [sic] weaving slightly behind. One Me 109 was lagging behind on the right and I formatted on him line astern and opened fire at about 100 yards.

E/a immediately dived for haze over the sea and I followed close behind, firing continuous burst. Large pieces flew off e/a and it disappeared, going vertically down into the haze at about 500 feet, emitting large quantities of black smoke.’

 

Bill estimated that the Me 109 crashed into the sea near Buxey Sands, but he did not see it and so, he was credited with a probable Me 109.

 

 

Australia's Few: 28 October 2013

Bill Millington’s success on 25 October was a prelude to a busy end of the month, where every flying skill would be tested.

Mid-morning on 28 October 19410, a solo Dornier Do 17 had been clocked near 249 Squadron’s base at North Weald. It was the second of the day—the first had been despatched by Tom Neil in an early morning attack. 249 were scrambled at 9.50 a.m. and were patrolling above the clouds when the Dornier dropped its load and disappeared. Bill was Blue 1, and acting as weaver.

The weaver, usually part of a pair, flew independently above and behind the main formation, tasked with keeping an eye out for the enemy and providing rear protection to his confreres. Although the weavers were usually the pilots with the best eyesight and situational awareness, it was not a highly sought-after position as many inexperienced pilots were easily picked off because, in watching everyone else’s backs, they could not concentrate on their own.

Indeed, according to Australian ace Clive Caldwell, who often carried out this task in his 1941 desert sorties, this ‘really was a dangerous position’ and more often than not, the rest of the squadron or flight would only know that they were under attack, not because the weaver had spotted something, but because ‘the warning came by seeing one or both the weavers spinning past in flames’.

The hapless pilots acting as weavers were often referred to as Tail End Charlies (Bomber Command used the same nickname for its rear gunners). But, as Caldwell also acknowledged, if the weavers were good, and the position used correctly, the Charlies could be very effective. 

And so, on 28 October, Bill, who had developed his eye sight and gunnery skills while rabbit hunting in the Adelaide hills, had the honour of the most dangerous position in the squadron. What did he make of it?

He was patrolling in Hurricane flying in V7677 above the cloud near Hawkinge. At about 10.10 a.m.:

‘Control reported bandit coming south west about ten miles north east of us. I sighted the Do 17 as it broke cloud about three miles to the north east.’

The Dornier was at about 9000 feet, and so Bill:

‘Started to dive towards it and reported position to leader, Red 1. Two bursts of AA fire close to e/a drew attention of Red 1 to e/a and three more aircraft were despatched. I dived on e/a from above and behind, opening fire at about 200 yards. Bullets could be seen penetrating rear turret and I closed to about 50 yards before breaking away. Lack of fire from rear turret leads me to believe that rear gunner was killed.’

Which was just as well, because, if he were alive, he would not have been able to miss Bill at 50 yards. But back to Bill’s commentary.

‘E/A streamed white smoke and vanished in clouds but smoke had vanished when it again appeared. E/A escaped in clouds.

Yellow 1 [Pilot Officer Neil] then joined me and, on instructions from Controller, we orbited at 12,000 feet position near Dungeness.

We sighted a Ju 88 occasionally breaking cloud coming from the north, waited for it to come into the clear and attacked from above. Yellow 1 came in behind e/a and I carried out a quarter attack from above, allowing full deflection and, with a long burst, fixed his starboard engine. As I was out of ammunition I made a few dummy attacks from above to keep gunner engaged while Yellow 1 continued.

Yellow 1 killed rear gunner and there appeared to be a small explosion in rear of fuselage. E/A was heading south east, streaming white smoke. When out of ammunition we broke off.’

The Ju 88 was then sighted by Pilot Officer McConnell, Yellow 3, who ‘finished off e/a, crashing in area 10–15 miles south east of Dungeness’.

Brave Bill Millington had perfected his art as a fighter pilot. Not only was he prepared to go in close for his attack on one enemy aircraft but he was willing to continue feinting with another to keep the gunner occupied, despite running out of ammunition, so that Tom Neil could have his chance at it.

According to Bill’s combat report, the two attacks, with the intervening brief orbit of Dungeness, were all over within 30 minutes. He was on the ground again at 11.10 a.m. and heard the news that he was credited with a damaged Dornier and a 1/4 share in the Ju 88. And then he was in the air again from 15.45 to 17.15 on a squadron patrol of Maidstone. 

Bill’s partner in success, Tom Neil, told me he remembered this occasion, as one of two ‘rather special days’ that he takes pleasure in remembering.

‘I recall reliving these and other events with him with some glee when we discussed them later, he being especially animated, as he appeared to enjoy flying as my partner on that and other occasions, and often told me so.’

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

 

 

Australians in the Battle of Britain. 25 October 1940.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

Australia's Few. 9 October 1940

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

 

 

Bill and Pipsqueak.