A Spitfire Pilot's Story: Pat Hughes: Battle of Britain Top Gun

by Dennis Newton

  On 2 July, the OKW issued its first operational instructions to the Luftwaffe. There were two basic tasks:

  The interdiction of the English Channel to merchant shipping to be carried out in conjunction with German naval force by means of attacks on convoys, the destruction of harbour facilities and the laying of mines in harbour areas and approaches.

  The destruction of the Royal Air Force.

  Two Fliegerkorps were assigned to establish air superiority over the English Channel and close it to British shipping: General Bruno Lörzer’s II Fliegerkorps based on the Pas de Calais and General Wolfram Freiherr von Richthofen’s VIII Fliegerkorps near Le Havre. Clearing the Straits of Dover of ships was not considered to be difficult so Lörzer did not think it necessary to commit his whole force. A small battle group under Oberst Johannes Fink, Kommodore of the Dornier Do 17-equipped Kampfgeschwader 2 based at Arras, was given the job.

  In addition to the Dornier bombers, Fink had two Junkers Ju 87 Stuka Gruppen and two Messerschmitt Me 109 Jagdgeschwader based on the Pas de Calais at his disposal. The fighter component was formidable, JG26 being led by the flamboyant, cigar-smoking Major Adolf Galland and JG53 by the much more serious and philosophical Major Werner Mölders, two highly distinguished commanders. Adolf Galland had developed the Luftwaffe’s ground support techniques during the Spanish Civil War and Werner Mölders had emerged as the Cóndor Legion’s top ace. Mölders was highly respected by his men who nicknamed him ‘Vati’ (Daddy); it was he who pioneered the new techniques of air fighting that were standard in the Luftwaffe. As a basic element, Mölders had his fighters fly in pairs, called a Rotte. About 200 yards separated each plane and the main responsibility of the wingman, or number two, was to cover the leader from quarter or stern attack. The leader looked after navigation and covered his wingman. Two Rotten made up a Schwarm (flight) of four aircraft. This combination improved a flight’s all-round vision, combat flexibility and gave mutual protection. Two or three Schwärme made up a Staffel (squadron). By flying their loose formations the Germans found many advantages: they could easily maintain their positions in combat; they could keep a better look-out; and by flying at separated heights they could cover each other and scan a greater area of sky.

  For achieving the task of air superiority over his allotted area, Johannes Fink’s battle group had at its disposal about seventy-five bombers, sixty plus Stuka dive-bombers and some 200 fighters. Fink was given an impressive title: Kanal-Kampführer, or Channel Battle Leader. He established his command post in an old bus on top of the cliffs at Cap Blanc Nez close to a statue of Louis Bleriot, which had been erected to commemorate the French pioneer’s conquest of the English Channel thirty-one years before in July 1909. From the windows of the bus he could follow the progress of his aircraft and if the visibility was good enough he could watch the British through powerful binoculars.

  Wolfram von Richthofen did not marshal any of VIII Fliegerkorps’ twin-engine bombers from Le Havre. His Stukas, supported by fighters, were presumed capable of establishing air superiority and clearing shipping from the area between Portsmouth and Portland.

  Flying conditions over most of England on 2 July were poor, cloudy and rainy, and there was only limited aerial activity. Fighter Command shot down only one enemy aircraft, a Dornier Do 215 reconnaissance plane. The next day, small groups of German bombers, covered by roving fighter patrols, were out hunting for ships. A Dornier suddenly dived out of cloud and attacked No. 13 EFTS at Maidenhead. Half a dozen men were injured and one was killed, while six Tiger Moth biplane trainers were destroyed and twenty-five damaged.

  The weather in the Channel was better on 4 July and this enabled von Richthofen to strike a decisive blow. Convoy OA178 was an Atlantic Convoy made up of large merchant ships. It had come through the Straits on the 3rd and was off Portland on the 4th, where it came under heavy attack by two Stuka Gruppen unhindered by RAF fighters. Four ships were sunk and nine damaged, some by fire. A third Gruppe of twenty Ju 88s attacked Portland, damaging two ships. During the night German E-boats found and mauled the convoy again sinking one ship and damaged two more. Out of approximately ninety bombers deployed, the cost was just one aircraft shot down by the convoy’s AA guns. It was a major blow because after this the Channel was closed to all ocean-going ships using the Port of London. These had to be diverted either to Britain’s west-coast ports or sent around Scotland. Henceforth, the only convoys to risk using the English Channel would be made up of small coasters, mainly colliers. They would gain renown as ‘The Coal-Scuttle Brigade’. Elsewhere, two enemy aircraft penetrated as far as Bristol. One was shot down by Spitfires from 92 Squadron at Pembrey near Swansea but the RAF obviously had to extend its role to offer a protective umbrella for shipping.

  These first encounters over the Channel made it obvious to British leaders that the country’s RDF (radar) network could not detect German aircraft soon enough for defending fighters to intercept. They simply could not scramble, climb and position themselves fast enough. From this day on, too, a flight from each RAF sector station was dispatched to operate from its forward landing grounds close to the coast to fly convoy patrols. These patrols could last up to two hours at a time with the pilots searching the grey sky around a gathering of ships on a grey ocean – boring and full of tension all at the same time.

  At St Eval, Pat Hughes and four of 234 Squadron’s other pilots who were deemed ‘night operational’ were rostered for night scrambles over Plymouth as well. On a typical night the pilot on duty would sleep on a notoriously uncomfortable camp bed in the dispersal hut. If needed, the telephone near the bed would ring and he’d be told to take off and patrol the ‘GIN.A’ or ‘GIN.B’ lines around Plymouth at a specified height. He would grab his parachute, carry it out to his plane, shout for his ground crew to start up, and order the flare-path crew to go out and light the runway’s Glim Lamps. These lamps had been introduced recently because it was thought they could not be seen from above 2,000 feet. ‘There were times,’ recalled Bob Doe, ‘when you couldn’t see them from a lot less than that!’

  After the Spitfire taxied out and took off, the pilot had to tell his controller immediately he was airborne. He would then set the throttle to minimise the sparks from the exhaust stacks, which were on both sides of the engine, just in front of his eyes. If he throttled back too quickly, it caused a sheet of brilliant sparks to flare past the cockpit, blinding his night vision for the next few minutes. Later, covers were put over the exhaust stubs so it was easier to see at night. As he neared Plymouth flying through the darkness, the pilot found himself entirely on his own as radio control instructions from the ground did not reach that far, and there was no other station he could call up. That fault had to be rectified as soon as No. 10 Group could organise itself. On arrival in the area, he would then spend his time watching the searchlights, hoping they would catch an enemy aircraft, a target, in the beam – and carefully watching the status of his fuel. Finally, there would be the flight back home in the darkness and landing on the Spitfire’s narrow undercarriage guided by the dim Glim Lamps. With convoy patrols by day and scrambles at night, these pilots were often deprived of vital sleep which could in turn potentially lead to the danger of excessive fatigue, but somehow most coped.6

  On Sunday, 7 July, the weather in the south and west of England consisted of scattered rain showers with widespread low cloud. Nevertheless, German aircraft probed the western area looking for shipping. To Pilot Officer Ken Dewhurst fell the honour of having 234 Squadron’s first brush with the enemy when he encountered a Junkers Ju 88 over Plymouth early in the evening. It was a brief engagement but Dewhurst claimed to have inflicted damage before it escaped.

  Next day, 8 July, weather conditions were mostly clear but there was plenty of cloud, ideal for convoy attacks. Fighter Command was kept busy flying cover. A section of three Spitfires from 54 Squadron ran into trouble tackling a formation of Me 110s that crossed the coast at Dungeness. The Spitfires were about to intercept
when they were attacked from above by Me 109s. Two Spitfires were shot down and the third was damaged before it could escape. Fortunately, the pilots survived, but one had been wounded and would be out of action for several weeks. The Spitfire pilots had been caught by surprise because they were employing the outmoded, compact formations and tactics that had been taught before the war – parade ground stuff and dangerous! Such set-piece manoeuvres could be disastrous.

  Eventually the RAF would begin imitating the Germans by flying in a formation of two pairs. They called it a ‘finger-four’ because each plane flew in a position corresponding to the finger-tips of a hand seen in plain view. The leader was represented by the longest finger, the number two by the index. Numbers three and four took up the positions of the third and little finger-tips. Number two always flew on the sun side of the leader scanning down-sun – he positioned himself slightly below so that the other pilots could see him well below the glare. That left two pairs of eyes stepped up down-sun of the leader scanning the danger area. When fighting, each pair worked as a unit like the German Rotte. But that was in the future. The tactics the Luftwaffe had revealed over France and Dunkirk had not been fully studied and digested. In the opening phase of the Battle of Britain, these lessons had yet to be absorbed and applied.

  Operating from Exeter, Hurricanes from 87 Squadron damaged a twin-engine German aircraft identified as a Do 215. The elusive Dornier escaped back into the clouds.

  At 3.40 p.m., 79 Squadron found trouble. Nine Hurricanes were scrambled from Hawkinge to cover a large convoy which had put out from the Thames Estuary. They were attacked off Dover by Messerschmitt 109s. Two Hurricanes and their pilots were lost in a short, sharp encounter.

  Just before teatime, 234 Squadron met the enemy for the second time. Blue Section, three Spitfires led by Pat, was scrambled to fly a convoy patrol. Pat’s wingmen were the New Zealander, Pilot Officer Keith Lawrence as Blue 1, and Sergeant George Bailey as Blue 3. At 6.15 p.m., twenty-five miles south-east of Land’s End they intercepted a Junkers Ju 88 flying at 2,000 feet just above a layer of cloud. Lawrence attacked first and, as he broke away, Pat closed in from astern, opening fire with only slight deflection. He wrote later in his formal Combat Report:

  Blue 1 intercepted E/A on top of cloud layer, after Blue 2 had attacked it and broken away. Blue 1 attacked E/A from astern using slight deflection. E/A climbed steeply into cloud. Blue 1 followed and continued firing at range between 30–50 yards until enemy emerged from cloud. Blue 1 gave 2 short bursts as E/A went into shallow dive & then broke away to port and downwards. Rear gunner continued firing throughout this engagement.7

  Pat had fired a total of 2,494 rounds of ammunition mostly using two second bursts, starting at 150 yards and closing in at times to as close as 30 yards. In the process his Spitfire (P9366) was hit by return fire – just a single bullet which went through the leading edge of the starboard wing. On landing, Pat chided his wingmen for opening fire from too far out – 400 yards was too far away to hit anything. According to Luftwaffe records researched after the war, two Junkers 88s were apparently lost on this day. This may have been the machine from Stab/LG1. The squadron’s Operations Record Book (ORB) noted down the Ju 88 as 234 Squadron’s first confirmed victory, but it had taken a lot of shooting to do the job.

  For Pat and the men of 234 Squadron battle had been joined successfully at last, albeit while using the formal pre-war tactics. The anticipation of more action in the immediate future was palpable. It boosted adrenalin and heightened the senses!

  Before the war, on the orders of Fighter Command’s officer-in-charge, AM Sir Hugh ‘Stuffy’ Dowding, the guns of the RAF fighters were harmonised to give a widely spaced bullet pattern at a range of 400 yards. This spread of bullets was intended specifically to destroy bombers and because of Dowding’s nickname, it became known as the ‘Stuffy Spread’.

  While the method certainly gave a new or average pilot a greater chance of scoring some hits on the target, early engagements had shown that it was unlikely enough damage would be caused to actually bring an enemy plane down! A concentrated and accurate burst of fire gave far better results. Although Dowding’s order to spread the field of fire was still standard procedure, squadrons with combat experience were harmonising their guns on a single point 250 yards in front of their aircraft. Going in close seemed to be another way of preventing the ‘Stuffy Spread’ from scattering bullets too far and wide. Obviously, the closer a fighter could be positioned behind, the closer together the pattern would be and the more certainty there was of making a kill. Effective perhaps, but obviously dangerous. But wasn’t war dangerous anyway?

  Before the fighting intensified, one nervous young pilot reportedly asked Pat, ‘What do I do if I miss?’

  ‘What do you do if you miss?’ came back his deliberate reply, ‘Listen mate … you get as close as you can and you can’t miss!’8

  Meanwhile, there was someone Pat was really missing, especially since the squadron had moved to St Eval. He telephoned Kay and told her that, in spite of them agreeing to marry after the war, he had changed his mind. They should marry right away. She should come down to him in Cornwall. They could be married at the register office in Bodmin. He would organise leave and make the arrangements. It was a tantalising idea. Kay was twenty-three years of age and did not need to ask for permission but she did discuss it with her mother. She recalled her mother’s reaction was strongly in favour. ‘My mother said I should grab whatever happiness I could as no one knew what was going to happen.’9 Kay’s answer to Pat was a joyful, ‘Yes!’

  Mid-afternoon on the 12th, a lone Ju 88 suddenly appeared over the aerodrome, dropped some bombs in a hit-and-run attack and swiftly made off out to sea. Keith Lawrence was up at the time with a newcomer, the Scotsman Pilot Officer Bill Gordon, and they gave chase, damaging it before it escaped.

  Just over two weeks passed before 234 Squadron’s next engagement. During that time the Luftwaffe created havoc. Fink’s bombers showed that merchant ships were worthwhile and vulnerable targets. On 13 July two convoys were attacked off Harwich, as was another convoy off Dover the following day.

  Pat and Blue Section were detailed to go on the 13th to the sector’s new advanced base, a grass airstrip at Roborough in Devonshire, where for a week it would operate under St Eval’s Fighter Sector Control. This was to improve communications, carry out extra patrols over the Plymouth area and test whether or not the airstrip would be a safe place to use Spitfires. As yet it was primitive. There was no accommodation and facilities were very limited. Pilots and personnel on site had to be billeted out. Another squadron was to be formed there, but the judgement was that Roborough’s grass airstrip was not suitable for high-performance Spitfires. The new unit’s equipment would need to be something slower, Gloster Gladiators perhaps.

  Pat and Blue Section returned to St Eval on the 20th.

  Meanwhile in the east, shipping between Ramsgate and Deal had been heavily attacked on 18 July.

  On the 19th another convoy was hit off Dover in an area that was earning the nickname of ‘Hellfire Corner’. Some of the sea and air battles were reported live on radio and were even caught on film. That day, a news cameraman spotted a burning aircraft in its last seconds and followed with his camera as it came whining down over Dover and blew up in a spectacular rupture of flame and smoke. The sequence was shown in a newsreel that would become famous, with the commentator screaming out, ‘There goes another Messerschmitt.’ His identification was tragically wrong. Nine two-seater Boulton Paul Defiants of 141 Squadron had taken off from Hawkinge, but only three returned. It was the Messerschmitts that had shot the Defiants out of the sky in the squadron’s first and last action over Dover. The RAF was being drawn into a war of attrition it could not afford – precisely what the Luftwaffe wanted.

  Day after day throughout the month coastal convoys that ventured gamely out were attacked and suffered casualties. Convoy CW8 which sailed from Southend on the morning of 25 July consist
ed of twenty-one merchant ships escorted by two armed trawlers. By the time the sun went down five were on the bottom of the Straits, six were crippled on the water and the convoy was scattered. Two destroyers that came boldly out of Dover to help were heavily damaged. E-boats emerged from Calais to complete the destruction during the night. Under the cover of darkness they successfully attacked the surviving ships, sinking three. In all, the convoy suffered 50 per cent losses, many of them witnessed by thousands of people on shore.

  Since 10 July, the Channel convoys had lost 24,000 tons of shipping sunk by air attack alone. One vessel in every three that sailed had become a casualty. There was no other choice for the Admiralty but to cancel all sailings of merchant ships through the waterway.

  Fink and Wolfram von Richthofen had carried out the first of the OKW’s 2 July directives successfully and won a tactical victory. After 4 July, all large-ship convoys on the world’s trade routes in and out of the port of London had been driven away from the Channel; after 25 July, all coastal convoys had been stopped. On 28 July the destroyers were forced to withdraw from Dover, and after 29 July the use of destroyers in the Channel by day was forbidden. In daylight the English Channel was now the front line up to the island’s very shores, and the British were losing.

  Late on the 25th, 234 Squadron lost the quiet and popular Geoffrey Gout on night patrol. His aircraft, Spitfire P9493, crashed near Porthtowan at about 11.45 p.m. The reason was never discovered. Was it excessive fatigue from flying day and night? He was buried in St Eval Churchyard four days later on the 29th. In a letter on 3 August, the squadron adjutant, Flying Officer E. C. ‘Bish’ Owens, wrote to Gout’s mother expressing the squadron’s sense of loss. Gout’s green sports car was sent to her and the personal effects she did not want were auctioned with the proceeds going to charity.