by Colin Downes
Although the chances of survival were far better in Fighter Command than in Bomber Command, there was always the spectre that tomorrow might be the day; but if a pilot failed to appear in the mess the system did not allow for this to prey upon the mind. The mess bar and rowdy mess games provided a suitable wake process and a safety valve that precluded public mourning so that any grieving was private. Consequently, there were times when pilots suffering from hangovers were not at their sharpest when this may have mattered the most. Of course, the possibility of injury was always present with the hope that any quietus be swift and merciful; the great dread being a ‘flamer’ and surviving badly burnt. We had one such pilot, Flight Lieutenant Ron Hibbert, who rejoined the squadron shortly after VE Day. He had flown Spitfires on 65 Squadron when based at Hornchurch during 1941. Hornchurch was a grass airfield on the north-east side of London and was a prominent fighter base during the Battle of Britain. The Spitfire wing was involved in the mass daylight offensive sweeps over France and Belgium escorting bombers sent to draw the Luftwaffe fighter force up into combat. In order to extend the range and endurance of the Spitfire V some squadrons were operating with a 90 gallon ‘slipper’ drop tank carried beneath the fuselage. As his Spitfire was on the take-off run and was about to become airborne, the engine exploded in flames and a crash landing into some buildings on the airfield boundary was imminent. Hibbert quickly assessed that his chances of survival were improved if he baled out onto the grass as the entire internal fuel contents of the Spitfire was situated between him and the big, heavy Merlin engine. Releasing himself from the seat and parachute harnesses, he lowered the side entry flap of the cockpit and dived headfirst towards the wing. Unfortunately for him the 90 gallon drop tank also parted company with the aircraft, caught fire and Hibbert fell headfirst into the fireball. A crash crew extracted him from the flames and although only his arm was broken, his face and hands were severely burnt. His flying helmet, goggles and oxygen mask provided little protection from the intense heat and his face was virtually gone. Fortunately for him, as it turned out, the medical officer arriving shortly after the ambulance was conversant with the latest developments on burn treatments and stopped the medics from applying any first aid treatment such as Tannafax jelly. They wrapped the pilot up to keep the air off the burn area and after administering morphine sent him in the ambulance across London to the Queen Victoria Hospital at East Grinstead on the south side of London, where the RAF’s Special Burns Unit was based under the direction of a New Zealand surgeon, Archibald McIndoe. It was McIndoe and his team who pioneered the remarkable developments in treating severe burn injuries and the skin grafting techniques to repair the appalling disfigurements. The problem with most burn injuries was due to the initial first aid treatment with salves, sulphur powder or tannic acid jelly to soothe the burn area and prevent infection. Unfortunately, this had the effect of creating shrinkage and the resultant scarring made any skin grafting difficult and often impossible, with a resulting disfigurement. McIndoe’s procedure was to keep the burn area untreated and unhealed with constant saline jet washing, leaving the flesh open and raw until the area was ready for the skin graft from suitable areas of the body. This was a long and painful process but it prevented the burnt tissue from scarring.
I became friendly with Hibbert while we were based at Hethel and he told me something of his ordeal. Initially it was thought that he had lost his sight when his eyelids suffered from the burning that removed most of his eyebrows, together with parts of his nose, lips and ears. He said the worst of the ordeal came when he was shaved between the continuous saline washings to prepare the bare skinless flesh for the skin grafts. The skin graft was achieved by creating a tube of flesh and skin taken from his inner thighs and attached to the upper torso, and from there the tissue was moved to the face for the grafts. This process was very painful lasting many months and involved many operations. His eyesight was saved and eventually became fully restored. McIndoe created new eyebrows, lips and ears. Before starting on his nose McIndoe asked what shape he would like and he chose to go classic Grecian. The complete process took two years by which time he had a presentable face with no disfigurement from the burns. His hands remained scarred as they were not receptive to skin grafts, but fortunately he only experienced a slight impairment in their use. His wife, who went through a rough period until she was able to see him, expected the worst and was very relieved at the result even with his changed appearance, commenting that she thought he looked more handsome. McIndoe created The Guinea Pig Club for the exclusive membership of his patients and he held an annual reunion to which most of his patients attended, and he particularly liked to have Hibbert present as he regarded him as one of his prize achievements. Although initially the pilots of Fighter Command provided a majority of the members of the Club, after the Battle of Britain it was the aircrew of Bomber Command that contributed a considerably larger membership to the Guinea Pig Club.
The Special Burns Unit at East Grinstead became world famous for the reconstruction of appalling burn injuries. Naturally enough, many of the patients became remorseful and reclusive during treatment; and the hospital staff worked just as hard to repair them psychologically as physically. The Guinea Pigs were encouraged to go out to theatres, restaurants and pubs, and McIndoe was always able to find attractive volunteers to accompany them, thus preparing his patients for a return to an acceptable life. For his great service to the armed forces and civilians, Archibald McIndoe received a very well deserved knighthood. It is largely due to his contribution in pioneering the new techniques of skin grafts that many badly burnt air crew were able to return to society. As for Hibbert he had a completely reconstructed face that did not show the terrible burns he suffered. In appearance, if his face was studied up close, the skin texture of the grafts showed only a slight appearance similar to that of orange peel, and only when he became excited or inebriated did the demarcation line between the surviving skin and the skin grafts become apparent, as the grafted skin from his body could not flush. It said a great deal for his courage, resolve and determination that he persuaded the Air Ministry to let him fly again and to return to his old squadron to fly not only the Spitfire again but also the Mustang, and our new aircraft, the Hornet.
Chance is a strange factor while flying as one starts hopefully with a full bag of luck and an empty bag of experience. The trick while flying is to fill the latter before emptying the former! I was certainly successful in this respect in avoiding any major injuries while flying Spitfires and Mustangs. During the last ten years I had successfully survived a few incidents that could be assessed as close calls, but nothing compared to a highly respected New Zealander I knew with a very distinguished war record. Air Commodore Al Deere had claimed twenty-two German aircraft destroyed during his four operational tours on fighters. In achieving this with the award of the DSO and DFC, he records in his autobiography Nine Lives that he also set an individual record for the number of RAF aircraft he lost in the process, either in combat or flying accidents, having survived eight bale outs or crash landings with various injuries. The cat is said to possess nine lives and New Zealanders are often addressed in the RAF as ‘Kiwi’, and this particular Kiwi certainly emulated a cat by surviving to a ninth healthy life before his retirement. Some cat! – Some Kiwi!!
In looking back on my time spent on Spitfires and Mustangs, it had really come too late in the war for me to achieve any of the aspirations I dreamed of years before. My contribution to the operational outcome of the war was, at very best, insignificant, and in trying to evaluate my flying career to date I came to the conclusion that although I considered myself a reasonably good pilot with some of the ‘right stuff’, it was not of such stuff as dreams are made on. I lacked some of the ingredients for a successful fighter pilot; namely chance, purpose, insularity and consequence. In retrospect had I the ability to call back yesterday, bid time return, I may have reconsidered photographic reconnaissance. That being said I had a good run on
the two best Allied fighters of the war: the Spitfire and the Mustang. With a few notable exceptions I enjoyed the experience, and survived it intact: the best of all aspirations! I may have experienced one or two anxious or even sphincteral moments before returning to the comparative comfort of base, but it was certainly a doddle compared to a tour on Bomber Command. My career as a fighter pilot on propeller driven fighters ended with my staff appointment to No. 11 Group, Fighter Command. My career as a jet fighter pilot commenced with my arrival on No. 41 Squadron at Biggin Hill in the spring of 1951, to fly cloud-encircled Meteors of the air into the high, untresspassed sanctity of space.
CHAPTER THREE
A Few Crowded Hours
The best private flying club in the world was the modest appellation conferred on RAF Biggin Hill by some of the Royal Auxiliary Air Force pilots during the 1950s. Formed in 1917 Biggin Hill had many attractions and was arguably the most famous fighter station in the RAF, having the best record of any in Fighter Command with over 1,000 enemy aircraft claimed shot down. During the Battle of Britain, when it was home to some of the RAF’s most famous fighter squadrons and their pilots, it was a constant target of the Luftwaffe. Situated on top of an escarpment of the North Downs above Westerham in Surrey, the birthplace of General Wolfe and the home of Winston Churchill, Biggin Hill is a convenient 20 miles from Piccadilly Circus. By 1951 the airfield had one main north-south runway with the pre-war hangers destroyed by the Luftwaffe replaced by modern structures. However, the pre-war red-brick Officers’ Mess was undamaged and not only provided a comfortable home but was unique in the RAF with its terraced gardens, swimming pool and situation perched on the edge of the escarpment overlooking the green Weald of Surrey.
It was to this pleasant environment that No. 41 Squadron moved from Church Fenton in Yorkshire; converting from the de Havilland Hornet long-range strike and escort fighter to the Gloster Meteor IV interceptor jet fighter. No. 41 Squadron also joined the two RAuxAF squadrons converting from the Spitfire XXII to the Meteor IV who called Biggin Hill home. No. 600 ‘City of London’ Squadron, commanded by Squadron Leader David Proudlove, RAuxAF, was a little less flamboyant than its sister squadron, No. 601 ‘County of London’ Squadron based at North Weald. The honorary air commodore of No. 600 Squadron was HM Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother. No. 615 ‘County of Surrey’ Squadron commanded by Squadron Leader Neville Duke, DSO, DFC, RAuxAF, had as its honorary air commodore, the Prime Minister, Sir Winston Churchill. No. 41 Squadron, formed during the First World War as a scout squadron flying SE5 fighters based at St Omer in France took as its squadron crest the Croix de Lorraine from the city arms. During the Second World War the squadron operated various marks of Spitfires until it converted to the DH Hornet in 1947. By 1951 the UK based Hornet squadrons re-equipped with the Meteor, leaving the Hornet in service only overseas in Malaysia and Hong Kong.
Three notable fighter pilots held commands at Biggin Hill during my stay on 41 Squadron. In 1951 Wing Commander Arthur Donaldson, DSO, DFC, commanded the station. He was one of three well-known brothers in the RAF who were fighter pilots and who were all awarded the DSO. He was followed in 1952 by Wing Commander ‘PB’ Pitt-Brown, DFC. The OC Flying was Squadron Leader Ray Hesselyn, DFC, DFM, a New Zealander who became a noted ace while flying from Malta in 1942. The first commanding officer of No. 41 Squadron at Biggin Hill was Squadron Leader John ‘Dusty’ Miller, DFC, AFC. Miller won his DFC the hard way flying Beaufighters on anti-shipping strikes. He proved to be an outstanding squadron commander dedicated to making No. 41 Squadron the best operational squadron in Fighter Command. At a time when there was considerable competition within the command to produce the best formation aerobatics team and the best individual aerobatics pilot, Miller did not allow this distraction to deter from the operational role of the squadron. I rated him as the best squadron commander I served under, and it was largely due to his enthusiasm and drive that during his leadership the squadron achieved the best gunnery and aircraft serviceability record in Fighter Command. The squadron had a good mix of experienced and inexperienced pilots: in addition to them coming from all parts of the British Isles the squadron included an Australian, a Canadian and a New Zealander; with an American Marine Corps pilot on exchange with the RAF. I was indeed very fortunate to have command of a flight on a squadron not only technically and operationally proficient, but also possessing the best squadron spirit I ever experienced during my flying career.
The Gloster Meteor was the first British jet to enter service in 1944 and was one of the few fighters capable of catching the V-1 flying bomb in level flight at low altitude. The first Meteor Mk 1 was equipped with Rolls Royce Welland engines producing 1,700 pounds static thrust (lb.s.t); and the first squadron was RAuxAF Squadron No. 616, who became not only the first but also the only Allied jet fighter squadron during the Second World War. The second squadron was another RAuxAF Squadron, No. 504, just before VE Day with the Meteor Mk III equipped with Rolls Royce Derwent engines producing 2,000lb.s.t. The Meteor and the German Messerschmitt ME-262, that entered service before the Meteor, were the two most impressive fighters of the Second World War. The Meteor, although successful against the V-1 flying bomb, was never involved in air combat and one can only speculate at the outcome of such an engagement with the ME-262. The German ME-262 although equipped with slightly less powerful jet engines, was faster than the Meteor due to its swept-back wing design. The Meteor with a conventional straight wing design and more powerful engines had a better rate of climb; although the ME-262 could incorporate rocket motors to boost the aircraft’s climb performance. In dog-fighting manoeuvres, as both aircraft suffered from turbine failures, engine and throttle handling required great care; and relighting an engine in flight was more problematical with the ME-262 than it was with the Meteor III. The Meteor had the advantage of air brakes to decelerate the aircraft in the air, which the ME-262 did not possess. The German fighter was slow to decelerate and would have benefited from the use of an air brake, especially in combat and during circuits and landings.
The German ME-262 may have differed considerably from the British Meteor in aerodynamic design with the innovation of a swept wing, but both aircraft experienced problems with their engines. The ME-262’s Jumo axial-flow engine was an advance in design over the Rolls Royce Derwent centrifugal engine, but was of less power. The centrifugal engine had more aerodynamic drag but it handled better and was more reliable with longer engine life. The Derwent engines gave the Meteor better initial acceleration and were also less susceptible to ingestion damage. The big advantage of the ME-262 over the Meteor operationally was in its armament. Whereas the Meteor carried an armament of four 20 mm cannon the ME-262, designed as a bomber destroyer, carried a much heavier armament with four 30 mm cannon and it could also carry batteries of free flight rockets. Four 20 mm cannon continued as the armament of all day and night interceptor Meteors. Neither the early Meteors nor the ME-262 were equipped with an ejection seat; this was to follow later with the Meteor Mk VIII.
I never saw the ME-262 in flight but I did see some on the ground at Debelsdorf in 1945. Seen up close the shark-like German fighter looked sleek, elegant, menacing and very fast, even while resting on the ground and made the Meteor look almost pedestrian by comparison. Fortunately for the Allies and the US 8th Air Force in particular, the ME-262 spent a lot of its operational life on the ground plagued by engine problems and the many opposing concepts for its operational role. It is easy to imagine that if the Luftwaffe had been able to operate the interceptor version of the ME-262 fighter in sufficient numbers against the US 8th Air Force during 1944, the daylight raids on Germany could not have been sustained despite the large force of escorting US P-51 Mustangs. Fortunately, German political distractions with the operational use of the ME-262, especially Hitler’s obsession with the bomber version, enabled the US attrition rate to stay within acceptable limits. Allied test pilots who flew the ME-262 reported that the swept wing delayed the onset of compressibility
allowing the aircraft to attain a higher limiting Mach number than the Meteor more quickly. This was particularly significant in a dive until the ME-262 experienced a loss of flying control. The compressibility effects on the Meteor Mk IV were less dramatic. As the aircraft approached the limiting Mach number the flying controls became heavy and airframe buffeting occurred. To be followed by a strong pitch-up with a wing drop; accompanied by noises of protest from the engines. The airframe drag on the Meteor was such that a reduction in engine power would quickly return the aircraft to normal flight control. The initial problems with the directional control and stability of the Meteor Mk IV would eventually lead to a complete redesign of the tail in the Meteor Mk VIII.
As the Meteor Mk III and Mk IV were not equipped with an ejection seat the bale-out procedure was very problematical and the only procedure that offered a fair prospect of success was to reduce speed to below 200 knots and drop out inverted with some negative G to clear the high set tailplane. The CO of 245 Squadron, Squadron Leader Bird-Wilson, DSO, DFC, experienced a unique method of baling out of a Meteor III when during an aerobatics display he pulled out of a high speed dive at low level and found himself flying upwards in his seat as his aircraft disassembled itself around him. Fortunately, he reached sufficient altitude to release himself from the seat and pull his ripcord for a safe landing. Inspection of the wreckage established that the D-doors covering the main landing wheels had sagged open under the high G force to an extent that the slipstream ripped them off the under surface of the mainplane, leading to a break-up of the airframe. This problem, together with others, was addressed when the Meteor IV entered service in 1946. The Meteor IV had an increase in engine power with RR Derwent 5 engines producing 3,500 lb.s.t. A reduced wing span not only increased the airspeed at low altitude, but also improved the rate of roll. It was with this aircraft the RAF High Speed Flight established a world speed record in excess of 600 knots.