By the Skin of my Teeth: The Memoirs of an RAF Mustang Pilot in World War II and of Flying Sabres with USAF in Korea

by Colin Downes

  By this time the development of the Spitfire from the Mark I to the Mark XXIV saw the engine power and fuel capacity doubled, and the weight of the aircraft increased by 60 per cent. The Spitfire became 25 per cent faster and it could fly 35 per cent higher, climbing nearly twice as fast. To achieve these figures there were many changes to the airframe and engine. The use of the bigger Griffon engine brought about many changes of propeller ending with either a five-blade or a six-blade contra-rotating propeller. The direction of rotation also changed so that the Griffon engine Spitfires swung to the right on take-off. The nose section was strengthened to accommodate the larger, heavier and more powerful Griffon engine. The tail section required substantial enlargement for the more powerful engine and larger propeller, with further strengthening to the fuselage. The addition of more amour plating and the metal covered flying controls added further weight. These changes, together with a wider track and taller undercarriage to allow for a larger propeller, resulted in very different aircraft with inferior handling compared with the Merlin Spitfires. The differences in the Merlin Spitfires and the Griffon Spitfires were such that the last marks of the aircraft should have been renamed. This did not occur until the final version of the Spitfire emerged with a redesigned laminar-flow wing and was renamed the Spiteful, but by this time the jet fighter rendered both the Spitfire and the Spiteful obsolescent. The Spiteful, although being capable of nearly 500 mph, had a handling that was markedly inferior to the Griffon Spitfires and it did not enter squadron service.

  The Auxiliaries were the weekend air force, as most had civil jobs during the week. They spent their weekends flying with one midweek night at the town headquarters and a mandatory two weeks at summer camp. No. 601 ‘County of London’ Squadron was probably the most dilettante of the auxiliary squadrons with the reputation of being ‘The Millionaires Squadron’. The pilots were not millionaires but certainly from the lifestyle of some and the expensive cars parked outside the mess one might get that impression. The squadron had some unique idiosyncrasies such as scarlet silk linings to the uniform tunics, always worn with the top button undone, and scarlet socks. It also numbered some well known and even famous personalities in its membership. The first post-war commanding officer of the squadron was a pre-war member: Group Captain the Hon. Max Aitkin, DSO, DFC, son of Lord Beaverbrook and an MP. He had a distinguished war record as a Hurricane pilot during the Battle of Britain, and commanded the Mosquito strike wing at Banff during my time at Peterhead. The ‘A’ flight commander was Group Captain Hugh ‘Cocky’ Dundas, DSO, DFC, a Battle of Britain Spitfire pilot and the youngest to reach his rank at the age of twenty-three while with Desert Air Force in Italy. The ‘B’ flight commander was Wing Commander Paul Richey, DFC, a Hurricane pilot in France and author of ‘Fighter Pilot’. Another senior pilot was Wing Commander Gordon Hughes, DSO, DFC, a photo-reconnaissance pilot. A distinguished barrister acted as the squadron adjutant and a well-known Harley Street specialist as the squadron doctor. The majority of the squadron pilots had war-time experience up to the rank of squadron leader, and it was not an easy task to maintain some sense of order, discipline and purpose with a bunch of opinionated civilians bent on making the squadron a superior private flying club for visiting friends around the country. An attempt to conduct some serious ground studies at the midweek gathering and dining-in night at town headquarters usually resulted in energetic mess games following the dinner. There was slight resentment by some regulars against the auxiliaries but usually this only resulted in some banter, and there existed a sort of university ‘Town and Gown’ atmosphere between the two groups. The main reason why the auxiliaries devoted all their free time to the squadron was a love of flying and nostalgia for the RAF without the service restrictions. For some the time required for the squadron became too much either from family or business pressures, and one of these was Max Aitken who left the squadron and gave up his parliamentary seat to take over the running of the Beaverbrook Press. The command of the squadron passed to ‘Cocky’ Dundas during a summer camp spent at Tangmere on the Sussex coast. It was here that he had flown with Douglas Bader before it became the Central Fighter Establishment; although the CFE eventually moved north to West Raynham in Norfolk.

  During the year spent at Hendon, I had one interesting diversion while competing in the Daily Express Air Races at what is now Birmingham Airport. For the auxiliary trophy each squadron entered two aircraft and as the competing aircraft varied from Vampire jets to various Merlin and Griffon Spitfires, it was a handicapped race. This put Paul Richey and me, representing 601 Squadron with our Spitfire XVIs, ahead of the field at the start. I think for a brief period of the race around the pylons the commentator announced I was in the lead but, before I reached the finish line, two Vampire jets and a couple of Griffon Spitfires relegated me to fifth place.

  My only incident on the squadron occurred while air testing a Spitfire when I had to carry out a forced landing. After completing the air test with everything appearing satisfactory I decided to do some aerobatics, and while pulling out of a loop the propeller started to speed up causing the engine to vibrate. Realizing that the propeller blades were about to part company with the aircraft I shut down the engine before it failed, and looked for somewhere to land the aircraft. Fortunately, the weather was fine with only some scattered cumulus cloud. I recognized the town of Banbury below and remembered a large disused grass airfield at Croughton to the south where I had flown Master tugs and Hotspur gliders. With this useful local knowledge I had little difficulty in landing the Spitfire on the field without damage to the aircraft. The fault in the propeller was the loss of oil from the constant-speed unit, allowing the propeller to over-speed. The squadron maintenance crew replaced the propeller unit and I flew the Spitfire back to Hendon.

  During my time with the squadron we lost two Spitfires with one fatality, which occurred during the first summer camp at Tangmere, and regrettably this could have been avoided had I been present at the briefing. The squadron operated a training flight, in addition to the two operational flights, to train new pilots on the Harvard and Spitfire before being cleared for operational flying. With many experienced ex-wartime pilots on the squadron the senior members liked to relive the memories of the war flying in full squadron formation, referred to as a ‘Balbo’. Unfortunately, on this occasion I was flying with a pilot on a training flight and in my absence the CO with the senior flight commander decided to mount a full squadron formation of twelve aircraft and one of the training pilots was detailed to make up the formation. This pilot had little experience on the squadron but elected to fly in the formation. Manoeuvring a squadron or wing formation in open or battle formation is carried out by cross-over turns. In turning a squadron of three flights through 90 degrees while in open battle formation, as the inside flight cannot slow down to turn inside the leading flight, it passes under the leader before turning sharply into line abreast formation on the opposite side of the leader. Similarly, as the outside flight cannot speed up on the outside of the turn, it crosses over the leading flight to take up a line abreast position on the opposite side of the leading flight. The two outside flights therefore reverse positions on the leader and in the process the sections of each flight similarly change positions requiring a degree of flight manoeuvring and throttle control. Unfortunately, the pilot concerned due to his inexperience collided with one of the Spitfires, lost control, crashed and was killed. The other pilot managed to bale out of his aircraft and he survived.

  By the end of 1948 it became obvious that Hendon, which had operated the Hawker Fury before the war, was unsuitable for current fighter aircraft and both squadrons moved to North Weald, a famous pre-war and Battle of Britain fighter airfield near Epping Forest on the North-East side of London. Within a short period we started to convert to the de Havilland Vampire powered by a single DH Goblin jet engine of 3,350 lb static thrust. The Vampire had a maximum speed of 550 mph (Mach 0.78), a climb of 4,800 ft/sec and a range with external
fuel of 600 miles at sea level and 1,200 miles at 30,000 feet. The armament was four 20 mm Hispano cannon, and fighter-bomber variants carried a 2,000 lb external ordnance load. This performance was a considerable jump to that of our Spitfires and the absence of any torque gave an initial impression of the aircraft flying ahead of the pilot on take-off compared with the Spitfire. The small twin boomed jet was a delight to fly, being the jet equivalent of the Spitfire IX. The Vampire was easy to fly with no vices and from the pure enjoyment of flying I cannot think of any other aircraft quite like it; which accounted for its early popularity with other air forces in Europe and elsewhere. When the RAF started to produce squadron individual and formation aerobatics displays, the Vampire was the natural and favoured aircraft for the flying displays, and was able to keep the presentation within the circuit of the airfield and within sight of the spectators on the ground. The main drawback of the aircraft was that it did not have the operational performance of the Gloster Meteor that out-climbed it and was faster. The Meteor was more of a handful and more difficult to fly with the two engines and the associated asymmetric problems, and it killed more pilots in training. After our departure from Hendon the airfield became a housing estate, with the RAF Museum emerging from the remains of the two Auxiliary Air Force hangers. The distinctive Tudor style officers’ mess became a hall of residence for the University of Middlesex.

  I spent an enjoyable, if at times contentious, attachment with the auxiliaries and before the end of my tour I left the fun and frolic of the ‘County of London’ squadron for a staff appointment at No. 11 Group headquarters as the personal staff officer, or aide-de-camp, to the Air Officer Commanding, Air Vice-Marshal Stanley Vincent, DFC. This was to be the first of my two staff appointments during my RAF career, and although reluctant to give up a flying appointment, I was glad to remain in the premier fighter group of the RAF. Stanley Vincent was the only RAF pilot to shoot down a German aircraft in both World Wars; and he was generous in the time given to me to keep in current flying practice on operational aircraft. Shortly after my appointment as his ADC, Air Marshal Sir Basil Embry, DSO, DFC, who had a distinguished war record as a bomber pilot, became Commander-in-Chief Fighter Command and Stanley Vincent retired. Conversely, Air Marshal Sir Harry Broadhurst, DSO, DFC, Commander-in-Chief RAF Germany and 2nd TAF, had a distinguished war record as a fighter pilot before taking over command of Bomber Command. Both men had strong and powerful personalities; and both men made significant changes in their commands as both became operationally more effective at the height of the Cold War. Both Embry and Broadhurst were very protective of their reputations and both liked to have a say in and give endorsement to the various appointments in their commands, and they would take many of their appointees with them to new commands. Basil Embry was considered by many to be a prospective Chief of the Air Staff, and on one occasion when this was suggested to him he replied that as a practicing Roman Catholic this was not possible. In his opinion there would never be a Catholic or Jewish head of any of the Armed Services, and as far as I know this has been the case. Basil Embry retired from the RAF to become a sheep farmer in Western Australia, and I met him again when flying in the State Governor’s HS 125 executive jet. He appeared to me to have mellowed a lot, as I found him good company. Harry Broadhurst was to model Bomber Command along similar lines to the Strategic Air Command of the USAF commanded by General Curtis Le May. Broadhurst became the only RAF air marshal to eject from an aircraft when returning from an overseas trip in a Vulcan bomber as the co-pilot. The aircraft crashed while attempting to land in thick fog at London Heathrow; the nearest airport to Bomber Command Headquarters. The two pilots of the Vulcan ejected successfully but the remainder of the crew, not being equipped with ejection seats, were killed when the aircraft crashed.

  When Stanley Vincent retired I continued as ADC to his successor, AVM Thomas Pike, DFC, a decorated night fighter ‘ace’ during the war. Pike had a particular attachment for North Weald, for when posted there as a junior pilot officer from the RAF College at Cranwell during the late twenties to fly the RAF’s first all metal fighter, the Armstrong Whitworth Siskin, he met and married the daughter of the local rector. Pike subsequently made his home near North Weald. He recalled how shortly after his arrival the squadron met with disaster when half the aircraft were damaged or destroyed by fire. North Weald was the first airfield designed as a modern fighter base and after the construction of a large hanger, a concrete apron in front of the hanger provided parking space for the squadron aircraft. To prevent the spillage of fuels fouling the concrete the aircraft parked over metal grills that drained the leaks into pipes connected to the domestic rainwater drainage system. The rainwater drained into a ditch running alongside the roadway passing the airfield. One weekend during stand-down of the squadron someone tossed a lighted cigarette butt into the ditch and ignited the fuel floating on the water. The fire spread rapidly up the pipes erupting out of the drainage grills under the parked aircraft. Those Siskins parked over the drainage grills, although of metal construction, caught fire and suffered considerable damage. This resulted in a rework of the drainage system and luckily for the engineer responsible, there were no ‘correction’ camps in Britain.

  AVM Tom Pike, who was AVM Broadhurst’s Senior Air Staff Officer in Desert Air Force, would later be knighted as CinC Fighter Command, and eventually become Marshal of the RAF as Chief of the Air Staff. Pike liked to fly the aircraft in his command and when visiting one of his fighter wings would fly to the base in the appropriate aircraft. We would drive from London to our communication squadron at Bovingdon and from there take either two Vampires or two Meteors to the air base in question. During bad weather or when visiting a non-flying unit such as sector headquarters or radar stations, Pike flew his personal Anson while I acted as navigator. I travelled extensively with him within Fighter Command and 2nd TAF in Germany, keeping in touch with the latest aircraft developments. In the course of my duties I met many top military commanders, as well as senior members of the Government and some visiting foreign dignitaries, making me appreciate that no man is a hero to his valet. These various VIPs always appeared to us lowly underlings as larger than life figures and even supermen, but when viewed up close and in normal contact one gained a different opinion as they were fallible like the rest of us.

  The job involved long hours and although not over-possessive of my time, I did not get much opportunity to pursue leisure interests. Pike was a keen pilot and was generous in the time he allowed me to visit squadrons in the group to fly the Vampires and Meteors, and to maintain my instrument rating status. On one occasion I flew down to Tangmere to fly the new Meteor VIII on 43 Squadron when it became the first squadron to re-equip from the Meteor IV to the Meteor VIII. I was flying above 40,000 feet when there was a bang and the bullet-proof windscreen started to disintegrate and only the several laminations of glass held with vinyl stopped it hitting me in the face. I expected it to break completely any moment as I reduced height and landed as soon as possible. Inspection of the windscreen attributed the cause to a combination of windscreen construction, outside air temperature, windscreen heating and cabin pressurization. The failure was the only one recorded for the Meteor in the Command and the OC Flying at Tangmere expressed the view that this was to be expected if inexperienced staff officers flew the new squadron aircraft. I did not like this particular wing commander who did most of his commanding of the wing from the ground and I decided he should not get away with this unjustified slander. I mentioned the incident to Pike when I reported my impressions of the new Meteor and casually let slip the wing commander’s comment. He must have mentioned this to the SASO, Ruper Lee, who apparently delivered a monumental rocket to the wing commander. By a coincidence the CO of 43 Squadron at the time was my wing leader from my Mustang days at Bentwaters, Max Sutherland, who when he saw me getting out of his damaged aircraft said jokingly ‘I might have known it!’

  Pike was Director of Operational Requirements at the Air
Ministry before taking over 11 Group and as such involved in the Hunter day and Javelin all-weather fighters to replace the Meteors in 1954. The English Electric Canberra jet bomber was another aircraft he had an interest in before it entered service with Bomber Command. The Air Council went to view the Canberra at the Warton factory and evaluate the aircraft. Pike accompanied them and suggested to Rollie Beamont, the chief test pilot, that I should fly with him on the demonstration flight. I sat in the navigator’s seat behind the pilot where the view of the outside world was a glimpse of the sky forward through the pilot’s canopy. During the flight I saw as much of the ground as I did of the sky as ‘Bee’ hurled the Canberra around through an almost continuous series of rolls and loops. For a bomber this was very impressive to me as the passenger, and the watching Air Council were suitably impressed by ‘Bee’s demonstration. He went on to impress the world attending the Farnborough Air Show, and I was able to appreciate fully his demonstration skills in flying the Canberra from ground level while handling a gin and tonic! I had a great respect for ‘Bee’ personally and as a pilot, but he had to be one of the fiercest handling pilots I ever flew with. This gave me quite the wrong impression of the aircraft for later, when I was at the Central Fighter Establishment, I flew the Canberra on overseas visits and I found it to be an easy and well-mannered aircraft to fly. It was a delightful aircraft for long range commuting when as far as the handling was concerned it resembled a jet propelled Anson. I considered Squadron Leader Roger Topp, AFC, to be the best demonstration pilot on the Canberra, and this also applied to his leadership of the RAF’s Hunter formation aerobatic team when his commanded No. 111 Squadron.