Con,
Having just received another letter from you, I am horrified to find I actually owe you two, but you’ll pardon my not having written before …
… Have been here for several months just flitting around the countryside and popping off bullets at various targets. Been doing bags and bags of flying and so far have fired off about 4,000 bullets in air gunnery. You’d be surprised to find intact the targets still are. First of all we do gunnery on targets on the ground. We fly over about a thousand feet and dive at the targets and the idea seems to be to try and fire your guns at them. Alas! Alas! but damned good fun, you know.
When at last we passed out tests on these stationary ground targets, they took up a target on a great long piece of wire, towing it behind another aircraft.
We have to go up and dive at this towed target from different angles. The hitting of the ground targets when they were still was hard enough, but when this other is tootling along about 140 miles an hour, it’s almost impossible even to get near it, less alone hit the damn thing with little bullets, if they gave us a big cannon or a spear, maybe we’d mangle the target, but as it is, its damned heartbreaking.
However, compared with the RAF junior officers, Olive (Queenslander) and myself have been getting apparently decent scores. So even though I would like to be getting a hundred bullets on, I am quite content with my thirties and forties, as is Olive, so life is not so bad after all …
… I have been doing a regular amount of night flying and am just considering whether my finances would stand the hire of a tub to fly over London on coronation night, just to see things from an original viewpoint.7 I’d like that, and if, as is at present expected, Olive and I club together we’ll certainly take a trip.
People have gone coronation crazy you touch or say borders on red, white and blue. Actually, it will be a damned good job when it’s over.
Hartnell has been doing nothing in the way of letter writing, nor has Peter, but I have had all the exciting of Melbourne from Peg Colville.
Old Peg is a hell of a good scout, Con, and she writes a decent letter, filled with news and such. If ever she comes to Sydney, may she call and say good-day for you? She’d like it, I know, and you’d like her.
Have been sitting around all day doing nothing, waiting for the fog to clear up and get the sun shining and at last I see they have wheeled a few single seaters out, so I’m off.
Regards to everyone around the borough and give my love to all the scattered members of our family including ye olde Robert.
Will write again soon.
Love and Love
Pat8
Two days after returning to Digby the pilots found out their categories and their squadrons. Because of his outstanding air gunnery, Gordon Olive was selected for fighters. His posting was to 65 Squadron at Hornchurch near London. The rest of the Australians at No. 2 Flying Training School were rostered to go to bombers, and seemed satisfied – all but Pat. When he discovered he had been categorised for bombers, Pat was disappointed and hostile. What could he do? Make it happen! Pat decided to lodge an immediate protest, appealing to be reclassified for fighters. This was what he had been seeking from the very beginning.
Gordon Olive was not happy either. He was among those who had wanted bombers. He wrote later:
I felt very unhappy. Up till this turning point I had taken very little interest in the fighter-versus-bomber debate. To be assigned to fighters was by no means accepted as a status category, and most of the boys so assigned were far from happy.
When I learned that the squadron to which I was posted was based on the Thames Estuary at a place called Hornchurch, my cup of disillusionment was full. Hornchurch was notorious for the worst weather in England, as it was always fogged in winter by the industrial murk from London. This was carried on the prevailing westerly drift of the air masses in those latitudes. If ever there was a reluctant fighter pilot, I was it. Besides, all my friends had been posted to Bombers at aerodromes with famous names like Andover and Worthy Down and Abingdon, all in the beautiful west counties. I had to get Hornchurch!
There was one redeeming thought, Pat Hughes, who had been selected for bombers appealed and was recategorised to fighters. He was the only one who was keen on them.9
Olive appealed to the chief instructor for a posting to bombers but because of his outstanding gunnery results the instructor scoffed at the idea. His application was refused.
At the same time, Pat’s more forthright request was upheld. His posting was to No. 64 (Fighter) Squadron at Martlesham Heath, somewhere in Suffolk.
Again, he had made it happen.
4
THE GATHERING STORM
In summer the countryside of England can be strikingly beautiful. Trees that were so gaunt and black in winter become laden with masses of leaves stretching to the ground. Colours bloom everywhere. Such variation and greenery is unreal to Australian eyes that have come from where the colours are predominantly a drab olive or brown for most of the year. English temperatures can also climb to unexpected levels, but usually only for brief periods of time. This invariably follows a prolonged wet spell which can make the humidity soar to a stifling, near-jungle heat.
It was almost tropical summer heat when Pat made his way to Martlesham Heath. The aerodrome was situated seven miles from Ipswich on open heath land. Around him clumps of bright yellow gorse grew in abundance, dotting the dark heath which later in summer and autumn would float in a sea of wine-coloured heather. The countryside further south along the River Stour had a familiarity about it thanks to the famous landscapes of John Constable.
Set down as it was on acres of relatively level sandy soil overlaying gravel that provided good drainage, Martlesham Heath was a natural site for an aerodrome. Moreover, for Pat it was an exciting destination, for this was where the newest RAF aircraft were tested. The latest and the best were there.
The station was officially opened on 16 February 1917 as a centre for the official testing of aircraft prototypes. The following October, the title of Aeroplane Experimental Station was conferred. Pilots stationed there were required to fly every type of aircraft from fighters to bombers and even evaluate captured enemy machines.
Throughout 1918, extensive testing and redesign work took place place on the Vickers FB27, later named the Vimy. Although it was too late to serve in the First World War, the Vimy achieved fame as the aircraft which carried Alcock and Brown on their record-breaking flight between Newfoundland and Ireland in June 1919. But the work could be hazardous. On 11 September 1918, the third prototype, B9954, carrying a full load of bombs, stalled on take-off. It crashed and exploded, killing the pilot.
After the war, Britain’s newly formed Air Ministry decided that the aerodrome site should be leased on a secure basis, and on 14 November 1921 a five-year lease was taken out with the owner, Mr Ernest George Pretyman MP. This was extended to a lease for 199 years in 1923.
On 8 July 1936, Britain’s newest monarch, King Edward VIII, and his brother the Duke of York (later to be King George VI) had visited Martlesham Heath for an inspection as part of a tour of the Royal Air Force. Among the many new types they saw on display were the Hawker Hurricane, Supermarine Spitfire, Fairey Battle, Bristol Blenheim, Vickers Wellington, Handley Page Hampden and Westland Lysander – names destined to become household words in the not too distant future.
Pat’s posting to 64 Squadron at Martlesham Heath seemed to be a step in the right direction – at first. The squadron’s planes were bright silver, two-seater Hawker Demon biplane fighters powered by a Rolls-Royce Kestrel engine. The fuselage of each machine proudly displayed the squadron’s distinctive red-and-blue trellis insignia on either side of the roundel. His new CO was Squadron Leader P. King.
In the First World War, 64 Squadron had distinguished itself as a ground-attack unit in France, equipped at first with the de Havilland DH5 and later with the SE5a. It was no slouch in air combat either, claiming 128 enemy aircraft destroyed in the pe
riod March to August 1918. After being disbanded in December 1919, it reformed at Heliopolis in Egypt on 1 March 1936 from two Hawker Demon flights detached from Nos 6 and 208 Squadrons. Italy had invaded Ethiopia in October 1935, and there was fear that the conflict could escalate into a war between Britain and Italy. In order to not give the impression that RAF strength in Egypt was being built up, it was officially announced that the squadron was based at Henlow in Bedfordshire.
The squadron moved to Ismailia in north-east Egypt eight days later. In the event of hostilities, it had orders to move west to Mersa Matruh to be able to attack Italian airfields and provide fighter cover for bombers refuelling at advance landing grounds. Such operations would have been difficult, hampered by sand which was found to be damaging to the Kestrel engines. By the beginning of June 1936 Ethiopia had been conquered, so the threat of war between Britain and Italy passed. The squadron left Egypt for the United Kingdom the following August to become part of the UK’s air defence build-up.
At Martlesham Heath, although every precaution was taken before and during the test flying of any aircraft, the nature of the work being done there carried with it the impression that it could be hazardous. There existed an almost fatalistic belief that from time to time it was inevitable that there would be accidents, some of them probably serious. In fact, the number of serious accidents was relatively low but one did happen on 28 May 1937, just after Pat arrived. A Demon from 64 Squadron was carrying out spin-and-recovery exercises over the aerodrome when the pilot failed to recover in time from a spin. The aircraft crashed into the middle of the aerodrome, resulting in the deaths of both occupants.
Pat may have been disappointed to see the Demons when there were faster and newer fighters about. The Demon was just a glorified Hawker Hart bomber and not much different to the types being flown back home at Point Cook. Each was equipped with two synchronised forward-firing Vickers machine guns and the rear cockpit modified to provide a maximum field of fire for a Lewis gun operated by the observer/air gunner. They had even been known as Hart Fighters in the beginning.
In December the squadron received a new commanding officer, an Irishman from County Cork by the name of Francis Victor Beamish, one of four brothers to serve with the RAF. Victor Beamish was a larger-than-life character and an inspirational leader. He was born in Dunmanway on 27 September 1903. After completing his education at Coleraine School, he joined the RAF and entered Cranwell, graduating in August 1923. Service in the UK followed and then in India. Next, he attended the Central Flying School before becoming a fighting instructor at RAF Sealand and afterwards at RAF Cranwell. In 1929 he travelled to Canada to assist in forming the basis of fighter squadrons within the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF). Two years later he returned to the UK to the post of flight commander with 25 Squadron at Hawkinge, but his tenure was cut short because he contracted tuberculosis and had to be invalided out of the service. His flying career seemed over. Beamish, who was not one to just sit there and let things happen, decided to return to Canada and adopt a healthy, active outdoor lifestyle. He worked as a lumberjack and it was this that eventually brought about a spectacular cure. After three years he was able not only to rejoin the air force but to take up flying again as well. He had made it happen by sheer determination, a characteristic that would make him an outstanding leader and fighter pilot.
On returning to the RAF, he spent a year building up the Meteorological Flight. A Met Flight pilot often had to go up in spite of weather conditions that kept others remaining safely on the ground. On most days he was required to take off at dawn, midday and dusk and while climbing take wet and dry bulb thermometer readings at intervals of a thousand feet. These figures were transmitted to the ground at two-minute intervals. In this way, the wind velocities and temperature at the various altitudes were relayed for the weather men to analyse suitability to fly. It was very exacting work and conditions could frequently be extremely difficult. Beamish was awarded the Air Force Cross for this significant effort.
The influence that Victor Beamish had on Pat Hughes has not been quantified but it is likely to have been considerable. His mere physical presence could inspire those around him and he tempered discipline with disarming Irish charm. ‘He was an exceptional pilot, admired, well liked and revered by all who knew him, regardless of rank.’ He was also exceptionally fit. In addition to his outdoor life as a lumberjack, he had excelled at sport in his early days, representing the RAF at rugby and being reserve for the Irish team on occasion. It was his practice to often jog around the airfield after the working day rather than having an evening meal.1 He and Pat did have something very basic in common: the innate determination to make things happen, not just to wait for them to happen.
Around the same time as Victor Beamish took over the squadron, orders came through to apply camouflage to the all of the RAF’s home-based, front-line fighters (camouflage had been applied to bombers since 1923). The first fresh-from-the-factory camouflaged fighter was a brand-new Hurricane monoplane fighter delivered to the RAF from Hawker’s assembly line in December 1937. It was taken on charge by 111 Squadron at Northolt in Middlesex. Now the biplane fighters had to be camouflaged too. Over the following months the natural aluminium dope/silver finishes and the bright colours and distinctive patterns of the squadron markings disappeared from all fighter units, painted over in standard configurations of matte dark brown (called ‘dark earth’) and dark green. The fuselage roundel on each side was retained.
These measures were taken because of disturbing trends in international affairs. Back in 1932 nearly all the major nations had been reducing their armed forces but Japan was an exception. Her economy was rapidly expanding. Coming increasingly under the control of a military junta, in September 1931 she began to occupy Manchuria. In March 1933, ruffled by the disapproval of the League of Nations of her attack on China, she withdrew as a member. In October the same year, Germany, which since January was under the leadership of Adolf Hitler, who was preaching defiance of the peace treaties of the First World War, also withdrew from the League of Nations. By 1935, the chief powers in the league were losing faith in the ability of the organisation to preserve peace, and they too began to rearm. It was becoming more and more apparent that if world peace was disturbed by a major power, it would be by one, or more, of the three most ambitious nations – Germany, Japan and Italy.
After the First World War, national pride in Germany had been left smarting over the harshness of the conditions imposed by the 1919 Treaty of Versailles. Amongst its terms, military aviation was banned. Air-minded German youths could only gain flying experience by joining local gliding clubs. Civil aircraft construction was also prohibited until 1922 when it was permitted under certain conditions – but something was stirring in secret.
In reality, the German civil aviation industry was highly centralised and largely controlled by the military. By the mid-1920s there were highly efficient aircraft businesses that included such companies as Messerschmitt at Augsburg, Focke Wulf at Bremen, Dornier at Friedrichshafen, Heinkel at Warnemunde, and Junkers at Dessau. German designers were developing advanced all-metal monoplanes with cantilevered wings, variable-pitch propellers and retractable undercarriages while the victorious Allies were still flying obsolete wood-and-fabric biplanes.
In contravention of the Versailles Treaty, Erhard Milch, who in the early 1920s was manager of Lufthansa, Germany’s civilian air transportation company, created a small air force within his organization’s framework. The restructured Lufthansa established routes throughout western Europe and became the most technically advanced airline in the world. Also contravening the Versailles Treaty, military crews trained at four Lufthansa flying schools to become proficient in night and all-weather flying.
Following the death of President von Hindenberg, Adolf Hitler declared himself the Führer of the German state. The armed forces were required to swear a personal oath of loyalty to him. With his rise to absolute power, the German Air Arm was created
under Reichskommissar for Aviation Herman Göring, Hitler’s Nazi Party deputy who had been an ace in the First World War commanding Manfred von Richthofen’s JGI after the Red Baron’s death. To build up the new service, trainees were sent secretly to Italy and the Soviet Union. In March 1935, ‘the disguise was dropped and the Luftwaffe emerged before the eyes of an astonished world like a monument at the moment of unveiling … The reaction abroad was just as violent as it had been when Germany left the League of Nations.’2
The Spanish Civil War broke out in July 1936 and there was soon international involvement. Joseph Stalin’s Soviet Russia reinforced the loyalists while Germany and Italy aided fascist general Francisco Franco ‘to prevent Bolshevism from getting a foothold in Western Europe’. Less than a month after the outbreak of fighting, a contingent of twenty Junker Ju52/3m transport aircraft and six Heinkel He 51 fighters with eighty-five volunteer air and ground crews from Germany arrived clandestinely in Spain. Italian aircraft, infantry and light tanks followed. For the other side, Soviet air force contingents, military advisers, artillery and tanks soon reached Spain’s east coast ports.
Out of the initial small German contingent grew the Cóndor Legion. It evolved into a balanced force of forty to fifty fighters, forty to fifty multi-engined bombers and around 100 miscellaneous aircraft for ground attack, reconnaissance and liaison. The Cóndor Legion’s contribution to Franco’s eventual victory was considerable, but more important from a German perspective were the conclusions drawn by Luftwaffe Staff planners. Germany evaluated much of its air arm’s new equipment under combat conditions in Spain. These included the Me 109B fighter, Heinkel He 111 bomber, Dornier Do 17 reconnaissance bomber, and Henschel Hs 123 and Junkers Ju 87 Stuka dive-bombers. Lessons learnt included the value of ground-attacking dive-bombers in hampering enemy communications, and the effectiveness of strafing by fighters to exploit an army breakthrough. As for fighter tactics and combat experience, the Spanish Civil War put Germany a year ahead of her international rivals. Towards the end of April 1937 in Spain, Cóndor Legion aircraft bombed the town of Guernica into oblivion, an action that prompted international outrage (an outraged horror that was expressed in Pablo Picasso’s famous painting of the same name).
A Spitfire Pilot's Story: Pat Hughes: Battle of Britain Top Gun Page 7