For Valerie and Midge, the journey to England was a pilgrimage. They wanted to know and see everything, and especially to visit Pat’s grave. Kay obliged. When the sisters departed to return to Australia they carried with them photos and precious souvenirs. Kay presented them with Pat’s DFC for the family. It was something she would regret later.
Kay eventually became the deputy, then the matron, of an aged care home and she was content in doing that. It was her profession for fourteen years.
In her later years, Kay felt that she had given the DFC to Pat’s sisters out of a sense of misplaced guilt because of the circumstances of the marriage. She made determined efforts to recover it. One of the people she contacted in her quest was Pat’s old Point Cook classmate and close friend, Geoff Hartnell, who was now living in Canberra. In reply to her first letter, Geoff wrote on 22 October 1980:
How good to hear from you after such a long time. I think of you often as Pat still has a particular place in my heart and his photo is located where I can see him even as I write this letter. His nephew, incidentally, is now an air vice Marshal and an impressive successor to his uncle. He also was a fighter pilot and earned a DFC in Korea. I retired some 12 years ago as an AVM myself. They kicked me out a little early as I developed some heart trouble but my health seems to have improved steadily ever since.’ He added that Pat’s ‘name is now on the Remembrance Wall of the Australian War Memorial.7
It had taken nearly forty years to get Pat’s name on the Remembrance Wall of the Australian War Memorial. Geoff wrote later:
There was some debate about the rights and wrongs of Australians, like Pat, having their name there but he and a number of others were in an unusual position in the Royal Air Force … They were, in effect, posted to the RAF from the RAAF for a period of five years at the end of which, having completed their short service commissions, they were under an obligation to return to the RAAF reserve. As the war was on when the five-year period was up, even those who were still alive continued to serve in the RAF until the end of the war.8
It so happens that Henry Hughes (Pat’s nephew) is stationed in Canberra so I had a chat to him about Pat’s DFC. I waited a few weeks while he made inquiries but he seems to be running into difficulties … Although his name is Henry he is known as Bill … Unfortunately Midge died a few years ago.9
Kay contacted Henry Hughes about the DFC in December 1980, and he replied just before Christmas: ‘As you are aware Val and Midge are dead, as is my father and several other of Pat’s brothers and sisters.’ He went on to suggest that Pat’s eldest brother, Jack
may be in possession of the DFC – but I am not sure because there is one other brother and sister still alive with whom I have no contact at all … I am pursuing with the RAF, and various museum authorities Pat’s records and other memorabilia. He deserves a place in RAAF history (he trained at Point Cook) and I am determined that he becomes properly recognised in Australia.10
Kay contacted Jack, who replied on 30 March 1981:
I apologise for the delay in replying, as I have been trying to seek information on the whereabouts of the medals. As you ceased corresponding with my sister Midge a long time ago, I regret to tell you that my sisters Valerie and Midge have passed away and as far as I know Pat’s medals could be either in Australia or England.11
In the meantime, Henry Hughes was instrumental in having an identification plate belonging to Pat’s Spitfire placed in the RAAF Museum at Point Cook. In 1968, Ken Ascombe, a collector of Second World War relics, had explored a field at Bessel’s Green near Sevenoaks in Kent with a metal detector. He found aluminium fragments, one of which carried the serial number X-4009. This was identified as belonging to the Spitfire Pat had flown on 7 September 1940. It had, in fact, been his regular aircraft. Ken Ascombe and his colleagues had rediscovered the historic crash site. Placement of the relic in the RAAF Museum at Point Cook was done with Kay’s approval.
Henry thanked her in a letter dated 12 May 1982, but there was also sad news:
Geoff Hartnell died about a year ago. He was given a service funeral in which I, along with many of his associates, participated. His widow is still living in Canberra.
Midge’s married name was TONGUE. Tom, her husband, came originally from the Midlands. To the best of my knowledge, Pat’s DFC was in Midge’s keeping until she died. Since Tom survived her for a while, the decoration remained in his keeping. On his death, we believe, the DFC somehow went into the possession of his family.12
Things seemed to have gone full circle. The medals might be back in England! Kay attempted to trace them, even placing a notice in local newspapers including the Hull Daily Mail, but all to no avail.
In fact, they were still in Australia. Pat’s closest brother, Bill, who he called ‘Will’ in his letters, was the ‘the last brother standing’ and by 1988 when I interviewed him the medals had somehow come into his possession.
*
I first wrote about Australians in the battle of Britain in 1982 in Australian Aviation magazine. While I was researching I was amazed by the lack of primary source information and knowledge about these men. The Battle of Britain was a pivotal battle in world history, a turning point of the war, and Australians were there, but who knew about them in their own country? Where were the plaques and memorials? There did not seem to be any around at all. Records held by the Australian War Memorial, where they existed, consisted only of some thin manila foolscap folders with just a few sheets of paper in them, perhaps containing a standardised form dating back to 1942 or 1943. These were often only partially filled in by someone other than the person named.
Because of the deadline imposed, the information for the article had to be gleaned hurriedly from secondary sources available at the time, from such ground-breaking publications as The Narrow Margin by Derek Wood and Derek Dempster and Francis K. Mason’s Battle Over Britain; a few unit histories like Tom Moulson’s The Flying Sword (601 Squadron, 1964) and Frank Ziegler’s Under The White Rose (609 Squadron, 1971); some biographies; and a few recent overview books such as Peter Townsend’s Duel of Eagles (1970), Marcel Julian’s The Battle of Britain (1967) and Richard Collier’s Eagle Day (1968) – all from England.
In Australia, the four-volume official RAAF history of Australia in the War of 1939–1945 contained little more than a couple of pages on the Battle of Britain; and a thin, vintage, long-out-of-print book RAAF Over Europe edited by Frank Johnson (published in 1946) but this too was from London. This had in it a Battle of Britain chapter but named just six pilots - Gordon Olive, Desmond Sheen, John Cock, John Curchin, Clive Mayers and lastly a short paragraph on Pat Hughes.
The article was written using these sources, but clearly the situation was unsatisfactory. There did not even seem to be any clarity in Australia over how many Australians were actually involved. The Battle of Britain was one of the turning points of the war, and Australians were there, but officialdom did not seem to know or care! Clearly, something had to be done about that. It was necessary to probe further.
The end result after seven years of additional research was the book published by the Australian War Memorial in 1990 for the fiftieth anniversary of the Battle of Britain, A Few of ‘The Few’. While researching I had the privilege of meeting, interviewing and corresponding with many of the still surviving veterans of the battle and their relatives and friends. This was how and why I met Bill Hughes, truly one of nature’s gentlemen.
When I visited Bill at his Beacon Hill home, he made me most welcome. After we had almost talked the afternoon away, he asked if I would like to see his brother’s medals – and there they were! At the time I was unaware of the drama that had been going on over them. He asked quietly what I thought should be done with them and Pat’s other memorabilia. I suggested that if there were no relatives who would appreciate them, perhaps it would be appropriate to donate them to the Australian War Memorial or the RAAF Museum at Point Cook.
Bill did both. He donated his photo album to the
RAAF Museum and at the same time also donated the propeller from a Sopwith Scout into the hub of which he had assembled and installed a clock. The whole piece was designed to be mounted like a trophy on a wall. This was one of his hobbies, particularly later in life, and it was a carryover from his modelling days with Pat when they were young. He donated Pat’s DFC and campaign medals to the Australian War Memorial for display, and although he did not say so, I think that Bill also did that because of the forthcoming book. They were photographed and a picture of them was placed on the dust jacket cover of A Few of ‘The Few’.
*
I have been reminded of a story told to me by Dimity Torbett, one of Pat Hughes’ nieces. In 2005, Dimity was passing through the town Aberdeen in northern New South Wales when she saw a furniture and book emporium and decided to stop. It was sixty-five years after the Battle of Britain and Pat’s death.
As she chatted to Myra Baines, the owner, Dimity put money in the tin hat Myra used to collect donations for Legacy. Myra had told her about the number of Legacy widows in the district. Dimity commented that one of her uncles had survived the Burma railway, adding, ‘And Uncle Pat was in the Battle of Britain’. Myra came out from behind the counter to where Dimity was sitting, fell to her knees and, grasping her hand, said: ‘I’m not talking to the niece of Paterson Clarence Hughes, am I?’ It was an extraordinary moment and the beginning of a lasting friendship.
Myra Baines was a remarkable Englishwoman who came to Australia in the 1970s. Born in the East End of London, Myra spent her childhood there during the Blitz and was wounded in one eye when flying shrapnel came through her bedroom window. At the age of seven she went missing when she used her pocket money to travel by herself across the Channel to France to visit the First World War battlefields and the Menin Gate which she had heard so much about.
She owned the emporium, continuing with it after her husband died until 2012. Her poor eyesight did not deter her from acquiring an encyclopaedic knowledge of both world wars, amassing a vast military library and rooms full of wartime memorabilia. She was a dedicated fund-raiser for Legacy and as an author and poet she had written many biographies commissioned by families in the district of their fathers, sons and brothers who took part in various wars.
But of all wartime participants, Pat Hughes was her particular hero – ‘because of his bravery and his sacrifice’ – ever since she read about him decades ago (I like to think perhaps in A Few of ‘The Few’). Every year on his birthday and the anniversary of his death while she lived in Aberdeen she would cross the highway, braving the trucks hurtling around the corner by the war memorial, to put flowers there in his memory, as she also did every Anzac Day and Remembrance Day.13
Myra is a symbol. As Geoff Hartnell pointed out, for too long Pat Hughes and others like him were overlooked by officialdom in Australia. They were only remembered by individuals, the members of families and friends – and sometimes, just sometimes, by a few who never knew them.
But I digress.
*
Kay married for a fourth time after she retired from being the matron of an aged care facility. There was a difference of eighteen years in their ages. When she was sixty-four, her new husband was eighty-two.
We married for companionship. He visits his wife’s grave regularly, knowing I understand. He understands, so do my sons, that when I die I want my ashes put with Pat. It’s always been in my will.
I’ve this idea that the first person I’ll meet will be Pat, not grown old or changed at all. Don’t know what he’ll make of me but he’ll understand everything, just as he always did, and we’ll have time together, at last.14
Kay died on 28 June 1983 at the age of sixty-six. Her sons buried her ashes in accordance with her wishes.
19
PAT HUGHES NIGHT
Neil Marks is an accomplished writer whose works include Tales from the Locker Room, Tales for All Seasons and Australian People Australian Tales, books motivated by his passion for Australian sport and Australian personalities, particularly from cricket and rugby. He played first-grade cricket himself at the age of fifteen and went on to represent New South Wales at the age of twenty-two, before a serious heart condition limited his prospects on the field. After retiring from a successful insurance brokerage business, he began to write about sport, the people he had known and the stories he had heard, emphasising the personalities, idiosyncrasies and foibles of many Australian characters.
After reading A Few of ‘The Few’ on Australians in the Battle of Britain, he became intrigued by the deeds of Pat Hughes, and ended up contacting Pat’s only living brother, Bill, who told him stories of Pat’s childhood and early manhood.
Pat was one of twelve children, coincidently the same number of children as their forefather from the ‘First Fleet’, John Nicholls, fathered. Pat’s own father was a postman in Cooma who achieved a minor sort of fame at the time by being recognised as the best bush balladist in the Snowy River area of NSW. Bill showed me some of his father’s verses which were indeed excellent and deserving of greater exposure.
When Neil and his wife, Kay, travelled to the UK in the early 1990s, he contacted a number of Battle of Britain pilots who had flown with Pat or who knew of him. They were unanimous.
The one thing in absolutely no doubt was Pat’s ability as a fighter pilot. Everyone with whom I spoke was adamant that Pat Hughes was the greatest they had ever seen.
Particularly helpful was Bob Doe. He and Kay shared a wonderful afternoon with Bob and his wife, Betty, looking out on their magnificent garden in West Sussex. The couples became close friends over the ensuing years.
Bob Doe had had a distinguished career in the RAF. After he had been posted to join 238 Squadron back at Middle Wallop on 27 September 1940, he claimed an Me 109 destroyed on the first day of October and a Ju 88 on the 7th, but then his good luck ran out. His Hurricane was shot up three days later and, wounded in the shoulder and leg, he had to bail out. While recovering, he was awarded a DFC on 22 October and a Bar to it a month later on 26 November. At the end of December he rejoined 234 Squadron but was injured during a heavy crash-landing on 3 January 1941. After this he served as a flight commander with 66 Squadron and then with 130 Squadron later in the year. Posted to the Far East, he formed the Indian Air Force’s 10 Squadron in December 1943 and commanded it all the way through the Burma campaign. For this he was awarded a DSO in October 1945, an exceptional honour. He returned to England in September 1946 and retired from the RAF as a wing commander on 1 April 1966.1
Neil determined he would write his own tribute to Pat. ‘I had intended to write my story of Pat Hughes in prose – but I was fascinated by the examples that Bill Hughes had shown me of his father’s verse. So I chose that route.’ The result was The Best of A Few.
Kay and Neil would visit the UK every three years or so and they phoned each other regularly. On one occasion, Neil said that:
I received a call from Betty and Bob which told me of a recent reunion of 234 Squadron (lovingly called Pat Hughes Night). Bob then told me that my verse (doggerel) about Pat was read out and was a highlight. He went on to say that he couldn’t read it as his accent was ‘too Pommy’ and so they dredged up some Aussie to do it. According to Bob, the Aussie went well, ‘Even though his accent wasn’t as rough as yours, Old Boy.’
The Aussie ‘dredged up’ was the Australian Air Attaché at 234 Squadron Association’s annual reunion in 2004. The Best of A Few is a fitting tribute to Paterson Clarence Hughes DFC, and I sincerely thank Neil Marks for allowing it to be placed here. 2
THE BEST OF A FEW
I stopped at a pub down in Cooma,
(I’d just spent five hours in my car),
While buying a beer from the barmaid,
I spoke to a bloke at the bar,
As happens, we soon started yarning,
Like blokes in a pub often do,
I talked of my days in the city
And dropped famous names that I knew.
&n
bsp; I spoke of known heroes and legends
And boorishly bashed on his ear,
He let me continue my boasting,
Stayed silent and sipped on his beer.
I talked of Les Darcy and Melba,
Our first settlers’ lives of travail,
I then paused for breath – he grinned wryly
And told me this wonderful tale.
‘You think you know real Aussie heroes,
Explorers and legends of sport,
Burke, Wills, Henry Parkes and Don Bradman,
Ned Kelly and Margaret Court?
You could name me others, you say, sir?
Well for you do I have some news
Of one you may never hear mentioned,
A bloke by the name of Pat Hughes.
‘You scoff at my rash declaration?
Well we all have differing views.
You say I’ve had too much to drink, sir!
Let me tell you the tale of Pat Hughes.
Young Pat Hughes was dashing and handsome,
He looked a bit like Errol Flynn,
Pat was … hold on now, I’m digressing …
I’ll go back in time and begin.
‘A man by the name of John Nicholls,
Accountant in old London Town,
Engaged in a bit of embezzling,
So jury and judge sent him down.
But this was the seventeen hundreds,
A Spitfire Pilot's Story: Pat Hughes: Battle of Britain Top Gun Page 26