Dogfight (16 page)

Cecil Hight's funeral procession (Ray Stebbings)

Vincent Parker (standing, second left) with other Australian officers in Colditz Castle (Colin Burgess)

Irving Smith (right) in conversation with a non-commissioned officer (Rupert Smith)

Wilfred Clouston (right) with mechanics (Richard Clouston)

John Gibson (Air Force Museum of New Zealand)

CHAPTER 7

The dilemma for Dowding was that although the Luftwaffe had yet to bring his force to its knees, it was slowly being ground down by the intensity of enemy operations. His problem lay less with machines than with men. Appointed by Churchill as Minister of Aircraft Production, the business tycoon Lord Beaverbrook had cranked up the factories and workers until they were producing more than an adequate number of machines for Dowding. In the first four months of the year only 600 fighters had been produced, but from May to August Beaverbrook boosted this to over 1800. Overall, British production of new fighters was double that of the Germans over the same period. Therefore, in spite of losses in Hurricanes and Spitfires throughout August, the British-Canadian Baron had 1081 ready for action and about 500 under repair at the month's end. The real bottleneck for Dowding was pilot numbers.

Within one week of
Adlertag,
eighty per cent of the initial squadron leaders were gone; a small number had been withdrawn from the battle due to stress, but greater numbers had either been wounded or killed outright in the furious air battles. Moreover, the freshly minted replacement aviators were arriving with an ever-diminishing level of training and experience. In effect the pre-war half-year training regime had been slashed to two weeks and men who should have been learning to fly were now thrust into actual aerial warfare. Making matters worse, nearly all of their pre-posting training was on older machines, including antiquated biplanes. In the pre-24 August lull, Fighter Command made a grim assessment of the battle so far and it was not pretty reading. While it was true that the Luftwaffe had ‘suffered more severely thus far,' the authors of the
RAF Narrative
cautioned that, ‘Fighter Command had lost pilots it could ill afford; and the
grim prospect of the fighter force slowly withering away through lack of pilots was already apparent...'[1]

Sustaining most of these losses was Park's 11 Group, of which six squadrons had suffered a 50 per cent loss rate between 13 and 22 August.[2] In response, these units were replaced with squadrons from less heavily engaged Groups. Park worked feverishly to get everything ready for a renewed German assault. At Northolt, wearing a steel helmet and his trademark white overalls, the long-limbed Park strode about his duties purposefully. Under his direction airfields were repaired, defensive measures refined and, in an attempt to cut down on unnecessary losses, he ordered that reconnaissance interceptions were not to be chased out over the Channel, the site of too many pilot losses.[3] He also reiterated his instructions to controllers to avoid sending fighters to intercept marauding Me 109 formations and concentrate all efforts on the bombers. Given the increasing levels of German interest in the airfields he made it clear that 12 Group would need to provide cover for the airfields north of the Thames. Park industriously visited as many squadrons as he could personally, cementing his ‘hands-on' leadership reputation by flying his Hurricane on visits to the Group's airfields. The Germans, however, were about to bring their forces to bear directly on the airfields scattered around London.

‘We have reached,' declared Göring on 19 August, ‘the decisive period of the war against England. The vital task is to turn all means at our disposal to the defeat of the enemy air force. Our first aim is the destruction of the enemy's fighter force. If they no longer take to the air, we shall attack them on the ground, or force them into battle, by directing bomber attacks against targets within range of our fighters.'[4] To this end the greater weight of attacks was moved inwards. Although the coastal bases would still, as and when required, come under assault, the Luftwaffe now centred its major effort on the vital sector airfields. The Germans were hoping to force Fighter Command to give battle in the air and at the same time destroy its main bases of operation on the ground. As an unintentional by-product, the raids might diminish the effectiveness of Dowding's elegant defensive network.

The Germans were still unaware of the importance of the sector stations and their all-important operations rooms. As command and control
hubs, their role in facilitating the collection and dispersal of information and direction of air units was vital to the meaningful deployment of the Hurricanes and Spitfires. Consequently, the attacks offered the possibility of even greater rewards than they realised. Focusing on a smaller number of specific targets would also enable a concentration of force hitherto unseen in the campaign. Frustrated that Fighter Command was still very much alive and kicking—despite faulty intelligence suggesting that Dowding's force was on its last legs—Göring transferred all of the fighters to Kesslring's command in Pas de Calais. This would move the fighters within range of the airfields. Bombers would now receive a much heavier escort, reducing their losses and forcing greater numbers of the British single-engine fighters into direct combat with the Me 109s.

On the first day of the new phase of the battle, 24 August, the sky over England was clear blue—ideal for aerial operations. Park did not have to wait long before the croupiers at Northolt were shuffling markers around the giant maps in the operations room. What he saw was a massive buildup of Kesselring's machines emanating from Cap Gris Nez. To temper the RAF response, Luftwaffe commanders had choreographed a series of cleverly designed opening pirouettes. An unending cortège of German machines was to fly parallel with the Sussex coastline at a distance of 20 miles out to sea. At various points Luftwaffe machines would break away from the line and head towards the coast in a series of feints. In this manner it was hoped to pull as many RAF fighters as possible into the air and follow up with actual attacks on airfields when fighters were forced to refuel. The first strike of over 100 machines ended in a draw. Few German aircraft were lost, despite twelve squadrons being put up, but RAF targets got off relatively unscathed. When midday arrived, another enemy formation was detected. Remarkably, alongside the Hurricanes a lone squadron of Defiants was scrambled.

Up until this point, the turret-fighters had been deployed in night-flying duties due to the savage mauling of 141 Squadron in July. Its sister Squadron, 264, had been engaged in nocturnal sorties in the interim but now found itself transferred to Hornchurch, and engaged the enemy for the first time in daylight operations. It was the beginning of a four-day period of intensive and costly action. It was felt that the Defiant squadrons had
been given enough time to re-group and, with a collection of veteran pilots and gunners, were once again ready for battle. However, the optimism was misplaced, and the danger to the Defiants and their aircrews was compounded by the ill-considered decision to have them operate on a daily basis from the most vulnerable of bases: ‘Hell's Corner' at Manston. The base was exposed to lightning raids that offered the aircrew less warning than was afforded any other airfield in the battle. Overweight, and slow in a climb, the Defiants were at a serious disadvantage at such a forward airfield; intruders had often emptied their bomb-bays and were turning for home while the Defiants were still climbing to intercept.

The squadron was heavily populated with Anzacs, most notably the recently arrived New Zealanders Clifford Emeny and Robert Young. Both were air-gunners. Emeny had a knack for breaching protocol and rubbing officers up the wrong way, usually with good reason. Shortly after arriving he discovered that all four New Zealanders, who were all ranked as leading aircraftmen, had been denied entry to the sergeants' mess, and were being assigned cleaning duties.[5] The New Zealander's attitude regarding the former was ‘no food, no fight' and regarding the latter declared that he had not ‘come half way around the world' to tidy and clean up after other airmen. The commanding officer of the squadron agreed that it was inappropriate for them to play the ‘flunkey' for the sergeants. Nevertheless, the ‘no food, no fight' mantra smacked of mutiny to Squadron Leader Philip Hunter.

Emeny's elegant solution was that Hunter promote them on the spot, an argument Hunter parried by pointing out that the route to the sergeant rank was graduated and in the ordinary course of things took time. ‘Well, I can understand that,' countered Emeny, ‘but doesn't wartime change all pre-war regulations and all air crew become sergeants?' In the face of this onslaught the commanding officer spluttered that such provisions did not apply to New Zealanders, something he could not change. The New Zealander made an audacious and inspired lunge and suggested that Hunter phone the New Zealand High Commissioner, William Jordan, and ‘explain our situation to him'. The commanding officer made the tactical mistake of agreeing to put a call through. A few moments with the Commissioner was the end of the matter and after putting the phone down, Hunter told Emeny, to ‘go and get the other New Zealanders ... and go over to the stores and collect your sergeant's stripes'. The plucky Kiwi was henceforth never denied entry into the sergeants' mess. He had won his bureaucratic battle but sterner tests in the air were to follow.

Their very first scramble was nearly the squadron's complete undoing. A short time after midday the freshly refuelled Defiants had barely made it into the air when the first bombs rained down on Manston. The turret-fighters clawed for altitude and eventually caught up with some of the raiding Ju 88s. Against the bombers the two-man machines were able to score some kills and even managed to knock out an Me 109. Within moments the battle was over. Tragically, three Defiants were lost including Hunter's. Only the intervention of Hurricanes from 501 Squadron with New Zealander John Gibson at the helm prevented further losses.

Meanwhile, Manston was a mess, forcing the Defiants to land at Hornchurch. In a second raid, German bomber pilots saturated the airfield, kicking up so much chalk and dust that bomb aimers had trouble accurately picking out targets. By the time the raid was over the Manston living quarters had been reduced to matchwood and unexploded munitions planted malevolently among the administrative buildings had forced their evacuation. In all, seventeen people were wounded and the airfield was out of contact with 11 Group thanks to severed communications.

Still reeling from its losses, 264 was directed to intercept a German bomber formation heading towards the Thames Estuary. The formation was part of the day's biggest offensive, which developed into attacks on Manston and Ramsgate to the south, and Hornchurch and North Weald to the north. Stepping into the leader's role was Flight Lieutenant George Gavin, hastily elevated from a supernumerary acting squadron leader to the unit's commanding officer. The fact that prior to his temporary posting with 264 he had never flown a fighter was not an impediment in the pilot-strapped Fighter Command of late August 1940.[6] For once the situation favoured the Defiants.

Single-man fighter squadrons were on the scene first and diverted the Me 109s, embroiling them in a series of dogfights. At 3.50p.m. the Defiants, unhindered by German fighters, waded into the formation of Ju 88s. Young swung the turret around to fire several bursts on a bomber from the port side. In 1939, Young, from Palmerston North, had missed out on a short service commission, so turned his attention to aircrew opportunities and, by March of the following year, had completed training as an air observer and gunner with the RNZAF and was on his way to Britain. The fire from the four Brownings tore open the fuselage of one of Göring's Junkers. Young's pilot, Harold Goodall, wrote up the combat report that evening: ‘The enemy aircraft started to dive, issuing forth white to black smoke. I
followed him through the cloud and found him underneath. I attacked him from the front and saw bursts enter the cockpit. The enemy aircraft dived away very steeply.'[7] The Ju 88 became one of the nine enemy machines claimed by the Defiants, but at the cost of four more of their own machines.

The Defiants were only one small part of a massive defensive operation desperately fending off the aggressive German attacks. Elsewhere in the blue-draped battlefield, Kiwis Smith and Gray were involved in operations designed to protect North Weald and Manston. The Australian Gordon Olive would intercept intruders flying up the Thames.

Smith, who had been slightly wounded during combat with Me 109s, shot down an He 111 in the late afternoon. Although Gray had dispatched an Me 110 earlier that morning, his afternoon sortie was uncharacteristically fruitless.[8] Olive on the other hand, at 3.35p.m., led nine Spitfires from 65 Squadron in an attack on over 100 enemy aircraft in the Thames Estuary area. As an old hand in battle, Olive led his pilots up to 28,000 feet before delivering an attack on the formation, directly out of the sun. He hit an Me 110 but was unable to follow the descending fighter to its apparent demise due to the weight of enemy machines in the vicinity. He found himself with five Me 109s on his tail and although he managed to get a few rounds off he was only too happy to return to base in one piece.[9]

Thirty minutes later the fighting reached its height and Park, with all his available Squadrons in action, called on 12 Group to provide fighter cover for the exposed bases north of the Thames. Only a single squadron appeared and even these were less than successful. The six Spitfires of 19 Squadron were armed with experimental cannon and due to firing problems only a couple were able to exhaust their full complement of shells. The frugality of 12 Group's effort was due to its commander Air Vice Marshal Trafford Leigh-Mallory's attempt to combine a number of squadrons into a single Wing over the Group's southernmost sector airfield, Duxford. In the end, the squadrons arrived too late to play a role in the fighting but as highflying spectators they saw the grim consequences of their tardiness: palls of smoke spiralling heavenward from the Hornchurch and North Weald airfields. Park was livid. The poor turnout from 12 Group was the catalyst for a war of words that would last a lot longer than the war itself.