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2004714391Official History of New Zealand in the Second World War 1939–45Illustrations have been included from the original source.New Zealanders with the Royal Air Force (Volume III)Thompson, Wing Commander H. L.War History Branch, Department Of Internal AffairsWellington, New Zealand1959Source copy consulted: Defence Force Library, New ZealandOfficial History of New Zealand in the Second World War 1939–45
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Official History of New Zealand
in the Second World War
1939–45The authors of the volumes in this series of histories prepared under
the supervision of the War History Branch of the Department of
Internal Affairs have been given full access to official documents.
They and the Editor-in-Chief are responsible for the statements
made and the views expressed by them.By Authority:
R. E. Owen, Government Printer, Wellington, New Zealand1959
New Zealanders with theRoyal Air Force
Volume IIIMediterranean and Middle East
South-east AsiaWing Commander H. L. THOMPSONWAR HISTORY BRANCH
DEPARTMENT OF INTERNAL AFFAIRSWELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND1959Per ardua ad astraDistributed bywhitcombe & tombs ltd.Christchurch, New Zealand
Preface
THIS volume, the third and final of the series, attempts to record
something of the work and achievements of New Zealand airmen
who flew and fought with the Royal Air Force in the Middle East and
in South-east Asia during the Second World War. Both these regions
have long held particular interest for the people of New Zealand.
Still to be fully understood and appreciated, however, is the contribution to victory made by the Allied air forces in these two theatres.
How many, for example, realise that after its defeat in the Western
Desert in 1942 the Eighth Army was saved and the victory at Alamein
made possible largely as a result of the sustained and devoted efforts
of the Desert Air Force, or that during the final advance into Burma
over 300,000 troops were kept supplied with all their daily requirements
solely by transport aircraft and 110,760 wounded flown out from
front-line positions?
New Zealand airman played a not undistinguished part in these hard-fought campaigns. Theirs was essentially a contribution of individuals,
for they were widely scattered among the many RAF formations, and
even though a few units did develop a certain New Zealand flavour,
this was largely fortuitous. Looking back, it seems rather a pity that
not one single New Zealand squadron was formed to operate in the
Middle East or over Burma and that only during the short Malayan
campaign from December 1941 to February 1942 did a New Zealand
fighter squadron see action as a token of the quite substantial
contribution made by the Dominion to the Royal Air Force.
The highly individual nature of the New Zealand contribution has
made the preparation of the present record anything but easy. It has
been rendered even more difficult by the fact that the New Zealand
authorities kept no record of the activities of their airmen who served
in these two theatres. Resort therefore had to be made once again to
the squadron operation books and files at the Air Ministry, London,
and it is upon these sources that the story which follows is largely
based. Only those who have dealt with official records will appreciate
what was involved in extracting, checking and following up the meagre
and often incomplete details which those dusty archives provided. In
this regard I must express my appreciation of the work done by Flight
Lieutenant J. A. Whelan concerning Middle East air operations; by
Flight Lieutenant H. R. Dean, DFC, in preparing a most helpful
narrative on South-east Asia; by Squadron Leader A. G. Lester on
early operations in that same theatre; and particularly to Sergeant
S. W. R. Holmes for his loyal and unflagging assistance in many ways.
My thanks are also due to the many officers of Air Ministry, London,
who gave further valuable help, especially Mr J. C. Nerney and his
staff of the Historical Branch. To the many airmen who responded so
well to requests for information and provided both lively episode and
personal detail—usually about others than themselves—I would add
a special word of thanks.
I wish also to place on record my deep appreciation of the constant
help, encouragement and support I received throughout my work
from the late Sir Howard Kippenberger. To work under him was,
indeed, a wonderful experience.
The completion of this record gives considerable personal satisfaction. One is very concious of defects and omisions, but at least
it provides as faithful and accurate a record as it has been possible to
achieve. I deem it a privilege to have had the duty of compiling an
account of the deeds of such a very gallant band of men. May those
who follow prove worthy of them.
H. L. Thompson‘Lynn Side’AucklandJune 1959
Contents
PagePREFACEvPart I: Mediterranean and Middle East1 PRELUDE TO WARImportance of the Middle East to Britain – The Italian
challenge – Royal Air Force, Middle East – New Zealand
participation before and at outbreak of hostilities.2 EARLY OPERATIONS OVER MANY FRONTSRoyal Air Force takes the initiative – successful operations
over Western Desert, East Africa and from Aden – Problems
of supply and reinforcement – Development of the Takoradi
air route – Supporting Wavell's advance to Benghazi – The
campaign in East Africa – Advent of the German Air Force –
Greece, Crete and Cyrenaica are lost, Iraq and Syria saved.133 WESTERN DESERT – THE SECOND YEARBack in Egypt – Supplying Tobruk and harassing the
enemy – Reorganisation of RAF – Increasing New Zealand
participation – Life with Desert Air Force – The ‘Late Arrivals'
Club’ – Bomber crews and the Benghazi ‘mail run’ – Fighter
and transport missions during crusader – Rommel's counter-attack – Intensive operations during the retreat to El Alamein-The first supply missions to Yugoslavia.424 WESTERN DESERT – THE THIRD YEARHolding the enemy at El Alamein – The Battle of Alam el
Halfa – Continuing assault on Rommel's supply lines – The
part of the bomber and torpedo-bomber crews – Preparing
for the great offensive – Intensive activity during the Alamein
battle and subsequent pursuit – On to Tripoli – Important
contribution by transport aircraft – The achievement of
Desert Air Force.775 ALGERIA AND TUNISIAOperation TORCH – Covering the landings – Initial difficulties in Algeria – Reorganisation of the Allied forces – The
fight for Tunisia – Prominent New Zealand leaders – The
work of the fighter and bomber crews – Supporting the First
Army – Covering the Eighth Army's advance from Tripoli –
Heavy bomber, coastal and transport missions.1046 MALTAThe island's place in Mediterranean strategy – The first
enemy raids – The achievement of Maynard and his pilots –
Malta's offensive activity increases – The Luftwaffe returns –
Bitter air battles and the crisis of 1942 – Reinforcement and
recovery – Final defeat of the Luftwaffe – Malta's squadrons
strike with renewed vigour – Support for North African
campaign – Preparing for the invasion of Sicily and Italy.1277 SICILYOperation HUSKY – Preliminary air activity – Pantellaria and
Lampedusa – The airborne invasion of Sicily – Covering the
landings by sea – Defeat of the Luftwaffe – Supporting the
land advance – The battle for Catania – Air activity over the
Messina Straits – The work of New Zealand aircrew during
the campaign – Individual episodes and incidents.1608 ITALYInvasion preparations – Covering the landings in southern
Italy – The fight for Salerno – Driving the Luftwaffe back –
Support for the northward advance – ‘Cab-rank’ patrols –
Lively activity over Anzio – The battle for Cassino – Operation
STRANGLE – The advance beyond Rome – Invading southern
France – Forward to the Gothic Line.1879 BEYOND THE ITALIAN BATTLEFRONTThe strategic bomber offensive – Minelaying in the Danube –
Fighter and bomber missions over Yugoslavia – The Aegean
and eastern Mediterranean – The work of the transport
crews – With Coastal Air Force over the Mediterranean and
Red Sea approaches – Air-sea rescue patrols – Photographic
reconnaissance – New Zealanders in non-flying roles.21410 THE END IN ITALYThe winter stalemate – Attacking enemy communications
and supplies – The final offensive by land and air – The Allied
air forces and the Italian campaign.236Part II: South-east Asia11 MALAYA, SUMATRA AND JAVAThe Japanese attack – Our disastrous air weakness – Operations during the Malayana campaign – Final effort over Singapore, Sumatra and Java – The part of New Zealand fighter
pilots – No. 488 NZ Squadron's story – Bomber and reconnaissance missions – The work of the New Zealand Airfield
Construction Unit.24512 THE RETREAT FROM BURMAThe air defence of Burma – New Zealanders with No. 67
Squadron – Air battles over Rangoon – Hurricane and Blenheim operations – A defensive victory is won – The retreat
from Rangoon is covered – Last blow from Magwe – Air
support from India – Maritime reconnaissance – Successful
defence of Ceylon.26913 FIGHTING BACK FROM INDIAAftermath of retreat – Preparing to defend India – The
renewal of Allied air power – New Zealanders with RAF
units – Air supply to China – Support for the Army in Arakan –
Offensive missions over Burma – Supplying Wingate's first
expedition – Bombing and reconnaissance – Operations during
the 1943 monsoon.28414 AIR SUPERIORITY AND THE ARAKAN BATTLEGrowing Allied strenght – Mountabatten and South-east
Asia Command – The struggle for air supremacy – The Spitfire
victories and their significance – The part of New Zealand
fighter pilots – The strategic situation, January 1944 – Allied
and Japanese plans – The second Arakan campaign – Air
supply and support are decisive – New Zealand participation.30615 OPERATION ‘THURSDAY’ AND THE VICTORY AT IMPHALWingate's second expedition – Air support and supply –
Casualty evacuation – The Japanese attack in Manipur –
Decisive air intervention – Supply and support at Imphal –
Harassing the enemy retreat – New Zealanders in transport,
fighter, bomber and reconnaissance operations.32416 BACK TO RANGOON – THE LAST PHASEAir support for the Allied offensive – New Zealand air
leaders – The pattern of the land advance – Support for
Fourteenth Army – The capture of Rangoon – The Sittang
battle – Operation zipper – Final missions.355APPENDICESIChronology – Middle East375IIChronology – South-east Asia381IIIPrincipal Operational Aircraft of Royal Air Force in Middle
East and South-east Asia385IVPrincipal Operational Aircraft of German Air Force in
Middle East388VPrincipal Operational Aircraft of Italian Air Force390VIPrincipal Operational Aircraft of Japanese Air Force391Glossary393Bibliography395
List of Illustrations
Unless otherwise stated, the photographs come from the Imperial War Museum collection
A Wellesley bomber flies over Eritrea to attack KerenFrontispieceFollowing page100A Hurricane prepares to take off from a desert airfieldAn Australian Gladiator patrol returns to its baseA bomber is re-armedItalian cruiser San Giorgio on fire in Tobruk harbourDerna airfield after an RAF raidFlooded ‘bivvy’Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, AOC-in-C Middle EastAir Vice-Marshal Arthur Coningham and Lieutenant-GeneralSir Bernard MontgomeryBoston bombers take off in formationA ‘Shark Squadron’ Kittyhawk‘Bombing up’ a HalifaxServicing a Wellington bomberSalvage convoy drivers wait for their evening mealBeaufighter attacks an enemy train, October 1942Salvage crews collect destroyed German aircraft at DabaairfieldAxis transport destroyed on the Derna roadPloughed-up enemy airfield near NofiliaA Hurricane tank-buster attacks enemy armour in TunisiaA Baltimore squadron intelligence officer briefs aircrewsArming a Wellington torpedo-bomberGrand Harbour, MaltaThe air-raid warning flag flies over the operations room at LuqaairfieldSpitfires on a Malta airfieldAir Vice-Marshal Sir Keith Park, AOC-in-C Mediterranean,with men of a Malta bomber crewTakali airfield and dispersal areas, April 1942Baltimores fly in formation to attack gun positions nearCassinoA bombed railway bridge at ArezzoNo. 111 Squadron Spitfires in ItalyMarauder crews in eastern Italy prepare to move offUnited States Army Air Force bombers attack Naples harbourSouth African Air Force Beaufighters make a rocket attackon Lussin IslandFollowing page214Buffaloes in flight, as seen from a VildebeesteBrewster Buffalo fighters at SingaporeNo. 488 Fighter Squadron pilots at Singapore, December 1941Ministry of Information, SingaporeSS Talthybius at a Singapore wharf escapes attackF. A. McCarthy collectionNo. 67 Squadron group at MingaladonK. A. Rutherford collectionNo. 1 Aerodrome Construction Squadron working on thebomber strip at TebrauGround crew of a Spitfire squadron in Burma erect a workshop during a minor monsoonSentinel aircraft being unloaded from an LCVVultee Vengeance dive-bomber on a forward airfieldBlenheims over AkyabIndian troops in Burma prepare to board a troop-carrierLoading a jeepOver the HumpHurri-bomber pilots in Burma are briefed before take-offHurri-bomber destroys a bridge on the Tiddim roadA direct hit on a Japanese base in the Andaman IslandsRAF pilots off duty in BurmaDakota drops supplies for Fourteenth Army south of theIrrawaddy RiverLiberators bomb YenangyaungThe Myitnge bridge after attack by RAF ThunderboltsBombs straddle a bridge on the Moulmein-Bangkok railwayThe bomb-shattered docks at RangoonA Beaufighter attack on a supply train near Kanbalu, BurmaLiberators bomb supply base at ArmapureThe ‘Tree Tops’ Club – an RAF control tower in centralBurmaRemains of Japanese headquarters on Ramree IslandIndian troops collect supplies dropped at MandalayAir Vice-Marshal S. F. Vincent, Lord Louis Mountbatten andLieutenant-General Sir William SlimThe Kohima battlefield
List of Maps and Diagrams
Facing pageThe Mediterranean Theatre9Central and Eastern Mediterranean19Italy149Main Battlefronts on the India-Burma border279In textPageAircraft reinforcement routes to the Middle East,22The Western Desert26–7The Alamein air offensive, 194280The Campaign in Tunisia, March-May 1943110Malta the Target128The Airfields of Malta131The Roads to Rome196The Campaign in Malaya, 7 December 1941–15 February 1942251Singapore Airfields255The Japanese Advance through Burma, January-May 1942271The first Chindit expedition, February-June 1943294The Arakan battle, February 1944317The second Chindit expedition, March 1944, and the capture
of Myitkyina325The Central Front, March-May 1944330Air Supply in Burma, June 1944-April 1945356The Reconquest of Burma, November 1944-May 1945358
The occupations given in the biographical footnotes are those engaged in on enlistment.
PART I
MEDITERRANEAN AND MIDDLE EAST
CHAPTER 1
Prelude to War
FLYING high over the Western Desert towards Cairo one glances
around and below at a remarkable panorama. The whole of the
eastern Mediterranean with all its long coastline is spread out beneath
like a map. To the west, in the fine clear air of this part of the world,
one can see past Tobruk towards Benghazi and the Gulf of Sirte; to the
east the coastline of Palestine with Syria and its mountains beyond.
Behind lies unrolled the island-sprinkled Aegean Sea; in front Egypt
is revealed at one glance from the coast to beyond Cairo and the length
of the Suez Canal from Port Said to Suez.
It was over all this territory and indeed for many hundreds of miles
beyond even so remarkable a vision—over Greece, Malta, Tunisia and
finally over Italy—that the Royal Air Force flew and fought during the
Middle East campaign of the Second World War. Its operations were
as varied as the region over which they ranged; they included almost
every aspect of air warfare and they were conducted with great flexibility by able and experienced leaders whose touch was sure. Co-operation with the Army and Navy was developed to a high degree and this
was an important factor in the final success. But the RAF's supreme
achievement, as events on land and sea clearly show, was the winning
and holding of command of the air. When this was lacking our forces
suffered defeat after defeat—even the Navy's victories at Taranto and
Matapan were followed by the loss of Crete and the closing of the
Mediterranean; but once ascendancy in the air was achieved the partnership flourished and then victory was assured.
Mastery of the Mediterranean had long been a cardinal point in
British strategy, since it was through this sea that lay the shortest and
surest passage to and from India and an Empire beyond. And along
this route, for which Gibraltar and Malta provided convenient stepping
stones, the most vulnerable point was the Suez Canal, which made the
defence of Egypt of prime importance. There was another reason for
British interest in the security of the Middle East. Within its boundaries
lay rich oilfields, and since in recent times movement by land, sea and
air had come to depend more and more upon oil, access to oil was a
military problem of the first gravity. Indeed it was one which might
face Britain in a simple and very unpleasant form. Five-sixths of the
world's supplies were produced beyond the Atlantic, where sea traffic
was exposed to grave interruption in time of war; and nearly half the
balance came from Russia and Rumania which were likely to be inaccessible. It was therefore essential that Britain should be able to draw
freely on supplies of oil from Persia and Iraq. And if this was to be
achieved, these regions, their ports and the sea routes must be held
against any threat.
British sea power, the possession of Gibraltar, Malta and Alexandria
as first-class naval bases, and Italy a well-disposed ally, had long guaranteed the security of the Mediterranean. During the First World War this
had been invaluable to our cause. But when, in the late thirties, the war
clouds gathered again, two novel and major considerations had arisen
to threaten the security of British interests in that area. Italy, under
Mussolini's aggressive leadership, had become a potential enemy and
there was the advent of air power as a major factor in the control of
narrow seas.
By 1939 Italian arms had reached a high peak. The fleet, if untried,
was well equipped with fast ships of good quality, the army was numerous and had gained tropical experience in Abyssinia and North Africa
whilst the Regia Aeronautica was perhaps the greatest national pride.
Fortified by Douhet's teaching, Balbo's long-distance flights of large
formations and a fine record in the races for the Schneider Trophy, the
Italians had certainly made great efforts to create a modern air force.
Backed by a substantial aircraft industry with well-equipped factories,
it now had a total strength, including training, transport and reserves,
of some 3000 machines. Its pilots had obtained valuable combat experience in the Spanish Civil War; the Abyssinian campaign had tested its
organisation, if not its fighting quality, and the products of Italian
engineering were viewed with respect in spite of an undue fidelity to
old types of aircraft by reason of their superior manoeuvreability—for
Italian pilots tended to associate spectacular aerobatics with good airmanship.
With her new-found strength, particularly that in the air, Italy threatened the whole British position in the Middle East. A mass of fighters
and bombers assembled in Libya, where they were capable of prompt
reinforcement from the Italian mainland, could present a serious danger
to Egypt. At the same time bombers based in Sicily and Tripoli might
well close the Mediterranean sea route at its narrowest point where the
Sicilian Channel is a mere eighty miles wide. So sure was the British
Admiralty of Italy's ability to do this that it presently declared itself
unable to pass even military convoys through the Mediterranean ‘on
account of the air danger’ and the Fleet was withdrawn to Alexandria
and Gibraltar. Malta, from being a busy staging post, then became a
threatened fortress on an untravelled road. Its possibilities as an air
base capable of striking at Italian lines of communication between
Tripoli and the European mainland were overlooked and it was left to
prepare as best it could against possible Italian bombing. For Britain
was ill-prepared to meet the changed situation. The fact that airfields
and air power were now the key to command of the Mediterranean had
not yet been fully accepted and Royal Air Force, Middle East, had been
starved of aircraft in order to build up air strength at home.
Yet, in 1939, there was still reason to hope that, with France as an
ally, the Italian challenge might be met. The French Fleet could neutralise a large part of the Italian Navy, French tenure of Djibouti safeguarded the gates of the Red Sea while much of the Italian mainland
lay within bombing range of French airfields in Tunisia. All the same,
as the shadows deepened over Europe once more, both Britain and
France deemed it highly desirable that the Middle East should remain
at peace. Strict instructions were given that Italy must in no wise be
provoked, and although there was some reorganisation of our military
dispositions, it was clear enough that the intention was to avoid hostile
action in the hope that the Italians might show similar goodwill.
But the Italian dictator Mussolini was not disposed for peace. As a
result of the alliance with Hitler's Germany, his dream of recreating the
old Roman Empire in which the Mediterranean would once again become the ‘Mare Nostrum’ now seemed more likely of fulfilment. His
protestations of devotion to the Axis cause became distinctly more
audible and Italian preparations to share in the spoils which Hitler
promised were conducted with all the secrecy of an operatic chorus
with full orchestral accompaniment. The piazzas rang with shouts for
Nice, Corsica and Tunis, interspersed, of course, with frequent references to ‘Mare Nostrum’; Fascist publications were pleased to depict
massed echelons of the Regia Aeronautica proceeding south-eastwards
towards Alexandria ahead of the Italian Fleet. And when, in June 1940,
Mussolini saw the French armies reeling to defeat before the German
onslaught, Britain isolated, her army rescued but without arms and
without a single ally outside her Commonwealth, it seemed that this
was his opportunity. There could surely be little risk in entering a war
that, to all appearances, was practically over.
Until the last moment Britain strove to avoid war with Italy. On
16 May 1940, in an effort to dissuade Mussolini from taking action,
Winston Churchill made a direct appeal to the Italian Prime Minister.
It is described by Count Ciano, Mussolini's Foreign Minister and son-in-law, as ‘a message of goodwill …. dignified and noble.’ But the
Italian dictator was in no mood to listen and he returned what Churchill
could only describe as a ‘dusty answer’. Mussolini in fact wanted to
declare war at once, but the Germans were less enthusiastic about their
new ally and, at Hitler's request, the actual declaration against Britain
was postponed until 10 June 1940.
Early that evening, speaking from the balcony of his office in Rome,
Mussolini told the multitude gathered in the piazza below: ‘The hour
marked out by destiny is sounding in the sky of our country. This is
the hour of irrevocable decisions …. We are going to war against the
plutocratic and reactionary democracies of the West who have hindered
the advance and often threatened the existence of the Italian people ….’
But in spite of the long harangue which followed, Ciano notes in his
diary that ‘news of the war does not arouse very much enthusiasm.’
And that same evening a broadcast from the capital of one of the ‘reactionary democracies’ prophesied that the summit of Mussolini's
achievement would be ‘to increase the number of ruins for which Italy
has long been famous.’ The speaker was Duff Cooper, who had resigned
from the Chamberlain Government after the Munich Agreement and
was now Minister of Information under Churchill.
Within a few days of Italy's entry into the war the Mediterranean
situation was radically changed in her favour through the collapse of
France. By a single stroke of the pen almost the whole of the French
Navy was eliminated, leaving the British to do the best they could
against heavy odds with such naval forces as were at Alexandria or
might become available at Gibraltar—for between these two extremities, two thousand miles apart, they were now without a single friendly
port except Valetta. At the same time the British lost the support of
the French army and air force in North Africa, while along the south
shore of the Mediterranean over a thousand miles of coast passed into a
dubious neutrality under the vigilance of Italian and German armistice
commissions. And in the Red Sea area, the French airfields at Djibouti
were no longer available for British use.
Italy was thus in a position to launch a powerful offensive against
her weaker British adversary. In Libya some 215,000 troops under
Marshal Graziani stood on the frontier ready to advance into Egypt,
while another army of over 200,000 men in Italian East Africa threatened Egypt from the south and also the territories of British Somaliland, Sudan and Kenya. Against these impressive enemy ground forces
the British Army under General Wavell had only 50,000 soldiers on all
fronts; no single unit or formation was fully equipped and there was
‘a dangerous lack of anti-aircraft and anti-tank guns and other artillery’. The possibility of immediate reinforcement was remote for the
route through the Mediterranean was now too precarious. It was even
uncertain whether the long sea route via the Cape might not also be
rendered unsafe by the action of enemy air and naval forces from East
Africa operating in the narrow waters of the Red Sea.
This threat was taken so seriously that the Second Echelon of 2 NZEF, with an Australian
brigade, was diverted to England.
The Italians
also enjoyed a marked superiority in the air, for the RAF had only 300
operational aircraft whereas the Regia Aeronautica now possessed a
front-line strength of some 1600 machines. A considerable part of this
force was retained on the Italian mainland but strong contingents in
Sardinia and Sicily cast a long shadow over the central Mediterranean;
there were also substantial numbers of modern fighters and bombers
deployed in Libya and East Africa, where their reinforcement was
comparatively easy.
The Italian opportunity at the end of June 1940 was certainly immense. Both the Mediterranean and the Red Sea might be denied to
British ships, and with Egypt almost completely isolated it should
have been a relatively easy matter for Italy to secure control of the
Nile Valley, using the vastly superior forces she had at both ends; for
all Egypt lay within bombing range of her airfields and its anti-aircraft
defence was weak. But as the summer weeks slipped by, the opportunity was missed. A few bombs fell on Alexandria, Omdurman, and
even Haifa, but no air or ground offensive developed on a serious
scale. The sky over Egypt and the Sudan was relatively untroubled by
Italian aircraft; and there was no effective threat from bombers overhead to transports bringing Indian brigades up the Red Sea to Port
Sudan or Australians and New Zealanders to Suez. The Italians also
made no attempt to use torpedo aircraft against the vulnerable convoys.
Indeed in the next five anxious months there were only two cases of
damage to British ships by air attack in the Red Sea.
The Italian failure to take advantage of their opportunities was, in
the opinion of General Wavell, ‘due firstly to our Air Force who, in
spite of inferior numbers everywhere took and kept the initiative; and
to the stout action of the small covering forces in Egypt, Sudan and
East Africa; and finally to the enemy's lack of preparation or desire for
hard fighting.’ Certainly the consummate showmanship and cheerful
buccaneering methods by which the RAF produced an illusion of air
superiority were to astonish its opponents. They also underlined the
lesson, taught in the skies over Britain this same summer, that numbers
were not the only test in air warfare.
Royal Air Force, Middle East, whose ample boundaries embraced
Egypt, the Sudan, Palestine, Transjordan, Iraq, Aden, Somaliland and
East Africa, was under the command of Air Marshal Sir Arthur
Longmore,
Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur M. Longmore, GCB, DSO, Order of Crown (Bel), Legion
of Honour (Fr), Croix de Guerre (Fr), Order of St. Maurice and St. Lazarus (It), Croix
de Guerre (It), Royal Order of George I Grand Cross with Swords (Gk), Greek War
Cross; RAF (retd); born St. Leonards, New South Wales, 8 Oct 1885; joined RN 1904;
RFC 1912; transferred RNAS 1914; RAF1918; AOC-in-C, RAF Training Command,
1939–40; AOC-in-C, RAF Middle East, 1940–41; Inspector-General, Royal Air Force,
1941–42; RAF representative, Post-Hostilities Planning Committee, 1943–44.
a tough little Australian who had been with the RAF
since the First World War. Longmore's resources were certainly not
on the same generous scale as his responsibilities. Over the whole area
he had only twenty-nine squadrons and, even for these, replacements
and reinforcements from Britain would not be forthcoming very easily;
nor was there a local aircraft industry to help in the work of repair.
Some fourteen squadrons, or about half the whole force, were based
in Egypt, with the remainder scattered through the other British territories in the Middle East—a deployment corresponding with their
primary role, which had been defined as ‘the defence of Egypt and the
Suez Canal and the maintenance of communication through the Red
Sea.’ The squadrons in Egypt, where the heaviest fighting was expected, were mainly those with the more up-to-date aircraft, the older
types being relegated to supporting theatres. Few of the machines,
however, were really modern. Nine of the fourteen bomber units were
armed with the reasonably efficient but very short-range Blenheim I
and two of the four naval co-operation units had Sunderlands. But
even the best equipped of the tactical reconnaissance squadrons had
only the virtually defenceless Lysander, while none of the five fighter
squadrons had anything better than the obsolescent Gladiator biplane.
In fact almost half the force was equipped with such outdated machines
as Bombays, Valentias, Wellesleys, Vincents and Battles—veterans
which did, however, render effective and indeed noble service.
The RAF's main disadvantage lay in numbers and in difficulty of
reinforcement since, in terms of performance, the British and Italian
aircraft were on the whole not unequal. The British Gladiator, for
example, was about evenly matched with the best Italian fighter, the
Cr42, while the Blenheim was rather faster than the main Italian
bomber, the S79, although the latter had a longer endurance and carried a greater bomb load. Moreover, it was not without importance that
there were British air and ground crews in the Middle East who were
seasoned and well tried, for this area had been the home ground of the
RAF since the First World War. All the same the training and experience that had been gained in peacetime were soon to be sorely tested.
* * * * *
In June 1940 there were some fifty New Zealanders with the RAF
in the Middle East. The majority of them had enlisted under short-service commission schemes in the pre-war years and trained as pilots
but there were several medical and engineering officers and others
engaged on various ground or staff duties. Many had already seen
service in different parts of the Middle East where, in the pre-war
years, the RAF had provided an efficient and economical means of
policing an Empire—for in those days an exhibition of low flying, a
few bursts of machine-gun fire or a demonstration bomb were usually
sufficient to restore order amongst truculent tribesmen. Several pilots
had flown with No. 203 Wellesley Squadron at Summit in the Sudan,
where their duties included the normal peacetime routine of punitive
action against native tribes, urgent Government flights carrying
Ministers and local officials, and the transport of medical supplies.
Others had carried out similar duties in Palestine. During the disturbances in that country in the late thirties, Squadron Leader McGregor
Air Vice-Marshal H. D. McGregor, CBE, DSO, Legion of Merit (US); RAF; born
Wairoa, 15 Feb 1910; joined RAF1928; permanent commission 1932; commanded
Nos. 33 and 213 Sqdns 1939–40; RAF Station, Ballyhalbert, 1941; RAF Station,
Tangmere, 1942–43; Group Captain, Operations, Mediterranean Air Command, 1943–44;
Allied Deputy Director of Operations, Intell. Plans, N. Africa and Italy, 1944; AOC
Levant, 1945–46; Planning Staff, North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, Washington,
1949–51.
led No. 33 Gladiator Squadron and his fine leadership in operations
against the rebel tribes won him admission to the Distinguished Service
Order.
At Aden and in Iraq there was a steady sequence of New Zealand
pilots, notably Squadron Leader Barnett,
Air Vice-Marshal D. H. F. Barnett, CBE, DFC; RAF; born Dunedin, 11 Feb 1906;
Cambridge University Air Squadron, 1926–29; permanent commission RAF1929;
commanded No. 40 Sqdn1940; RAF Station, Swanton Morley, 1942–43; Air Staff
Strategic Bombing Duties, Bomber Command, 1944; SASO (Org) Bomber Command,
1945.
who was in charge of a
squadron at the remote base of Shaibah, and Squadron Leader Russell
Air Vice-Marshal H. B. Russell, CB, DFC, AFC; RAF (retd); born Hastings, 6 May
1895; commissioned Royal Field Artillery, 1914; seconded RFC 1915 and RAF1918;
permanent commission RAF1919; SASO, No. 21 Training Group, 1939–40; SASO,
No. 2 RAF Component, France, 1940; served with Fighter Command, 1940–41; AOC
No. 215 Group, Middle East, 1942–43; AOC No. 70 Group, United Kingdom, 1943–45;
Air Officer i/c Administration, HQ FTC, 1946–49.
who commanded bombers at Aden. Iraq had been ‘controlled’ by the
RAF since 1921 and an early incident in which one well-known New
Zealander figured is described by Sir Arthur Longmore in his memoirs:
A tribe to the north, somewhere west of Mosul, had given some trouble
to the French during its wanderings on the Syrian side of the frontier, at this
point merely a line drawn across the map with no special feature on the
desert to identify it. One of our patrolling aircraft, flown by Squadron
Leader Arthur Coningham
Air Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham, KCB, KBE, DSO, MC, DFC, AFC, Legion of
Honour (Fr), Distinguished Service Medal (US), Order of Leopold (Bel), Croix de
Guerre with Palm (Bel); born Brisbane, 19 Jan 1895; 1 NZEF 1914–16; entered RFC
1916; permanent commission RAF1919; AOC No. 4 Group, Bomber Command,
1939–41; AOC Western Desert, 1941–43; AOC 1st TAF, N. Africa, Sicily, Italy,
1943–44; AOC-in-C, 2nd TAF, invasion of NW Europe and Germany, 1944–45; lost
when air liner crashed during Atlantic crossing, Jan 1948.
of 55 Squadron (later Air Marshal Sir Arthur
Coningham) came down low over the tribe and was fired on. He returned
to Mosul, picked up the political adviser, flew back to the tribe, landed near
by and called for the Sheikh to give an explanation of his conduct.
It was explained that the machine was thought to be a French one and
part of a flight which had recently bombed them. The Sheikh was told not
to make such a mistake again. He was so impressed by the action of this
R.A.F. pilot in landing amongst them that he wrote a message on the
cowling of the aircraft in Arabic, to the effect that its crew were not to be
harmed and every assistance given to them. This inscription was later reproduced on a large scale in polished aluminium and riveted on in a conspicuous place.
Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Longmore, From Sea to Sky.
The main RAF base in Iraq was at Habbaniya, built in a bend of
the Euphrates and a veritable oasis in the desert; it was the site of an
important Flying Training School which, incidentally, was to win considerable renown in the campaign against the Iraqi rebels early in 1941.
Here and elsewhere New Zealand pilots continued to share in the
various tasks which fell to the RAF squadrons in the pre-war years.
The flights across wide tracts of uncivilised and strange country, often
under conditions of extreme heat and discomfort, demanded qualities
of resource and endurance, but there is little doubt that for air and
ground crews alike the arduous and adventurous operations of those
days provided most valuable training and experience. For these men,
at least, war in the desert would bring a life and circumstances that were
not altogether new.
Before the end of 1940 pilots, observers, wireless operators and gunners of the Royal New Zealand Air Force, trained under the Empire
Air Training Scheme, had begun to arrive in the United Kingdom.
These men were placed by the New Zealand Government at the disposal
of the RAF for operations and accordingly many were posted at once
to the Middle East. Later many men passed through operational training units in the United Kingdom, Kenya and South Africa, which
supplemented the work of similar units already in Egypt and Palestine
to produce a steady influx of trained aircrew from Britain and the
Commonwealth.
Altogether nearly 1500 New Zealanders served with the RAF Middle
East and Mediterranean commands. Almost all were aircrew, for at the
request of the British Government New Zealand concentrated largely
on aircrew training. A small contingent of ground crew, radar mechanics, fitter armourers and wireless mechanics did, however, find their
way to the Middle East to do valuable work with various RAF squadrons and maintenance units. Unfortunately, however, no New Zealand
squadrons were formed in the Mediterranean theatre, with the result
that Dominion personnel became extremely scattered; indeed, such
was the New Zealanders' reputation for ubiquity that it became something of a Mediterranean legend and it was almost impossible to find
an RAF unit without at least one or two New Zealand airmen in it.
As one of their Australian comrades remarked, ‘These ruddy “pig-islanders” get everywhere—it must be their earthquakes that spread
them about.’
In the Middle East, as in the other theatres of RAF operations, New
Zealanders were to make their mark as leaders, as commanders of
various units and as specialists in many fields. The Dominion may
well remember with pride the contribution of Air Marshal Coningham,
who commanded the Tactical Air Force in the Western Desert, in
North-west Africa and in the invasion of Italy; of Air Vice-Marshal
Maynard,
Air Vice-Marshal F. H. M. Maynard, CB, AFC, Legion of Merit (US); RAF (retd);
born Waiuku, 1 May 1893; served with RN Divisional Engineers 1914–15; transferred
RNAS 1915; RAF1918; permanent commission RAF1919; AOC RAF Mediterranean,
1940–41; Air Officer i/c Administration, Coastal Command, 1941–44; AOC No. 19
Group, Coastal Command, 1944–45.
who showed how Malta could be saved, and of Air Chief
Marshal Park
Air Chief Marshal Sir Keith R. Park, GCB, KBE, MC and bar, DFC, Croix de Guerre
(Fr), Legion of Merit (US); RAF (retd); born Thames, 15 Jun 1892; in First World
War served Egypt, Gallipoli and France with NZ Fd Arty, 1914–15, and Royal Fd Arty,
1915–16; seconded RFC 1917; permanent commission RAF1919; SASO, HQ Fighter
Command, 1938–40; commanded No. 11 Fighter Group during Battle of Britain;
AOC No. 23 Training Group, 1941; AOC RAF Egypt, 1942; AOC RAF Malta,
1942–43; AOC-in-C, Middle East, 1944–45; Allied Air C-in-C, SE Asia, 1945–46.
in charge of air operations in defence of Egypt before
Alamein and from Malta during the period when the Luftwaffe was
finally beaten and the island turned to the offensive. The large majority,
however, played their part in less prominent roles as fighter pilots or
among the crews of bomber and reconnaissance aircraft. These were
the men who helped to create the legend of the Desert Air Force with
its nomadic, individual way of life, its variegated and often highly
unorthodox uniform and a tradition that was much envied by other
parts of the Royal Air Force. Back and forth across the desert, through
Cyrenaica to Tripoli and across the narrow seas to Sicily and Italy,
they flew and fought their aircraft alongside their comrades of the Army;
and with them they shared the dust and the heat, the flies and the sores,
the mud and biting wind, the shortage of water and the interminable
corned beef and chlorinated tea. For life with the Air Force in the
Middle East was very different from that in the home commands. Here
men were divorced from all the normal amenities of life with little but
their work to occupy their minds. Their surroundings lacked any of
the usual landmarks and often for miles in every direction there were
no houses, trees, hills or roads. Their ration scale certainly allowed
liberal quantities of bully beef and tea but rarely did it provide enough
water; indeed the allowance was sometimes only half a gallon a day
each for all purposes including cooking and washing, and even this
meagre dole could not always be guaranteed. And as retreat and advance swayed the RAF backwards and forwards over the desert its men
had to become more and more mobile, and this usually meant the
sacrifice of even the few personal belongings which had served to
remind them that there was somewhere, at least, another kind of
existence.
The desert was indeed a hard school of war, but for many of those
who lived and fought in and over it there was a certain glamour in its
vivid contrasts, its monotony and its infinite variety, its soft beauties
and harsh rigours and, above all, its clean and invigorating spaciousness. Moreover, as those who took part in the desert campaigns know
full well, it was the background on which was woven that pattern of
teamwork between the armed services which contributed so much to
ultimate victory.
CHAPTER 2
Early Operations over Many Fronts
NO clash of opposing armies, no sudden invasion with hard-fought
border battles followed the declaration of war in the Middle East.
For the Italians, not altogether prepared for total war, were in no
hurry to begin their much-heralded campaign; over a month passed
in which their armies did little more than concentrate with extreme
deliberation on the borders of Egypt, the Sudan and British Somaliland. Meanwhile British patrols fenced adroitly along the various
frontiers.
But if events on the ground moved slowly, there was lively activity
in the air from the outset—at least on the part of one participant.
Within a few hours of Mussolini's bombastic broadcast, Blenheims
from Egypt were over the Italian airfield at El Adem where their
bombs, bursting among hangars and closely parked aircraft, caused
consternation among its occupants, who seem to have overlooked
even the most elementary precautions against unfriendly visitors. The
RAF followed up with further raids on the enemy's forward airfields
in Cyrenaica and on oil tanks and shipping at Tobruk. Simultaneously
Wellesleys from the Sudan struck at the Italian aerodromes of Asmara,
Gura and Massawa while Blenheims from Aden bombed Assab and
Diredawa, causing considerable damage to aircraft, hangars and sup
plies. At Massawa about 800 tons of petrol went up in flames.
This was the start of a spirited and, for those days, quite remarkable
offensive against enemy airfields, bases and ports, against troop concentrations in camps and convoys and any supply dumps within reach.
For Longmore had decided that, in the circumstances, bold attack was
the sole alternative to extinction and surprise the best method of attack.
Yet it was only by appearing in unexpected strength and in unexpected
places that he could hope to produce an illusion of air superiority since
his forces were pitifully small; it was also doubtful whether he would
receive either replacements or reinforcements for some time to come.
Accordingly the RAF's watchword became ‘We'll fox them’, as lumbering Bombay transports were turned into long-range bombers and outdated Lysanders were sent on impudent and dangerous spotting
missions for the Army. A single Hurricane fighter which arrived in
August was made to operate from several landing grounds in the desert
on the same day, achieving an astonishing effect on the Italians, who
had nothing to match its performance. This versatile machine was soon
nicknamed ‘Collie's Battleship’, after Air Commodore R. Collishaw,
Air Vice-Marshal R. Collishaw, CB, DSO and bar, OBE, DSC, DFC, Croix de Guerre
(Fr), Order of St. Anne (Rus), Order of St. Stanislaus (Rus), Order of St. Vladimir
(Rus); RAF (retd); born Nanaimo, British Columbia, 22 Nov 1893; entered RNAS
1915; RAF1918; commanded RAF Station, Heliopolis, 1936-38; AOC Egypt Group,
1939–41; AOC No. 204 Group, Middle East, 1941; AOC No. 14 Group, 1942–43.
who was in charge of air operations over the Western Desert.
Collishaw, a cheerful Canadian who had emerged from the First
World War with the second highest total of kills credited to any
British fighter pilot, soon brought the business of outwitting the
Italians to a fine art. With great skill he introduced a comprehensive
system of deception, using dummy aircraft and operating small groups
of fighters from widely spaced bases. At the same time, by frequent
patrols and by continual attacks on their troops, bases and airfields, he
kept the Italians in such a state of apprehension that they were led to
fritter away their greater air strength upon innumerable defensive
patrols. Similar tactics and adventurous operations on the other fronts
produced the same reaction. Indeed, continual standing patrols soon
became the normal routine of an Italian fighter pilot's day as air umbrellas were unfurled over bases, ports, lines of communication and
over ground units unwilling to move without such protection.
This feeble reply to the initial British attacks undoubtedly laid the
foundations of the eventual breakdown of the Italian fighter force. For
as its defensive patrols increased, so engine hours mounted up and the
serviceability rate fell. Then, the more aircraft to be serviced the less
able was their maintenance organisation to deal with what was already
on hand and the longer it took to get aircraft back to the front–line
squadrons. The more aircraft being treated for one fault or another
the more unwieldy the system became, so that later when advance and
retreat swayed the army back and forth across the desert the Regia
Aeronautica was unable to keep in step. Then still more aircraft were
lost either by capture or by damage from RAF raids.
Yet in view of the superior numbers they possessed at the beginning,
the enemy's timidity was astonishing. Although at times the Italians
made things uncomfortable at our forward positions and airfields, their
pilots showed no particular keenness to join issue with the Gladiators
and in strategic operations farther afield they showed quite extraordinary lack of enterprise. A few sorties were made against Alexandria
but these were promptly deterred by our fighters and naval guns.
Throughout the whole of July the enemy's only real success was a
raid on Haifa which set fire to three oil tanks. Strangest of all, the
Italian bombers almost entirely neglected our great repair depot at
Aboukir and its subsidiary units, the destruction of which might well
have crippled the Middle East Air Force. Instead, weak Italian air
policy allowed the RAF to seize the initiative and by aggressive tactics
establish a defensive mentality among its opponents.
This was undoubtedly the main achievement of Longmore's small
force in the early months but it could also record more tangible results.
In operations from Egypt, for example, the old Italian cruiser San
Giorgio was hit and crippled as she lay in Tobruk harbour; early in
August a large ammunition dump near Bardia was bombed and blown
up in a spectacular explosion; that same month Gladiators supporting
a naval bombardment of Bardia shot down eight Italian bombers
without loss to themselves. The enemy's main supply port of Benghazi
was also raided on several occasions.
Elsewhere the RAF also continued to hold the initiative. A slender
force operating from Aden and Perim, supplemented by patrols from
Port Sudan, succeeded in keeping open the vital Red Sea route; between
June and December 1940, when fifty–four convoys were escorted by
air, only on two occasions were ships damaged, which spoke well for
the unceasing vigilance of the Blenheim crews, especially as the temperature inside their aircraft sometimes rose to 130 degrees while they
were patrolling down the Red Sea.
In the Sudan the three Wellesley squadrons continued to raid Italian
airfields, ports, railways and supply dumps and give close support to
the British forces operating in that area. ‘Day after day,’ writes one
observer, ‘the large ungainly machines, with their single engine and
vast wing spread, took off to make their way over some of the most
dangerous flying country in the world—country where for hours you
could not make a landing and where the natives were unfriendly to
the point of murder. They had been coming back often with their great
wings slashed and torn by flying shrapnel; sometimes they just managed
to struggle home with controls shot away and the undercarriage would
collapse bringing the machines lurching down on the sand on one wing
like some great stricken bird. But always they seemed to get back
somehow.’
In East Africa units of the South African Air Force, together with
RAF Blenheim squadrons, were active in reconnaissance, scouring the
coastal waters of Italian Somaliland; they also operated successfully
against Italian airfields, vehicle concentrations and wireless stations,
notably in the area of Kismayu. Typical of the spirit these squadrons
brought to the offensive was the action of a Valentia pilot who grew
tired of communication flying, filled a forty gallon oil drum with gelignite and scrap iron, wedged it on the sill of his cabin door and heaved
it overboard to effect impressive slaughter among the defenders of a
fort.
Only at Malta did the Italians appear to have the advantage in the
air, but even here the RAF was soon to render their attacks on the
island less rewarding. How this was achieved is an epic story presently
to be related.
Throughout these early months New Zealanders played their part
in patrol and attack over widely separated regions of the Middle East.
In Egypt Squadron Leader Shannon
Group Captain U. Y. Shannon, DFC; RAF; born Wellington, 6 Dec 1905; joined
RAFFeb 1930; commanded No. 30 Sqdn 1938–41; RAF Station, Gordan's Tree,
Middle East, 1941; No. 10 Sqdn 1944–45; RAF Station, Full Sutton, 1945.
led a squadron of Blenheim
fighters in defence of Alexandria and the Canal Zone, in protection of
naval units and on escort to bomber aircraft; he had previously commanded this squadron when it was based in Iraq. Pilot Officers
Ferguson,
Flying Officer M. S. Ferguson; born Devonport, 10 Jan 1916; joined RAFFeb 1938;
killed on air operations, 1 Apr 1941.
Nicolson
Flying Officer R. H. Nicolson, m.i.d.; born Christchurch, 24 Apr 1918; clerk; joined
RAF16 May 1938; killed in flying accident, 10 May 1941.
and Walker
Flying Officer T. O. Walker, m.i.d.; born Rotorua, 27 Mar 1915; farmer; joined RAFMar 1938; killed on air operations, 18 Mar 1941.
captained Blenheim bombers of
No. 55 Squadron on many notable missions, including the successful
raid on the airfield at El Adem, the main Italian air base in Cyrenaica,
on the very first day of hostilities. Other prominent Blenheim bomber
captains were Pilot Officers Buchanan
Flight Lieutenant L. B. Buchanan, DFC; born Palmerston North, 4 Nov 1917; joined
RAFMay 1938; killed on air operations, 13 Apr 1941.
and Campbell,
Flight Lieutenant R. D. Campbell; born Hamilton, 7 Jul 1919; joined RAFOct 1938;
transferred RNZAFDec 1943; prisoner of war 7 Jan 1941; escaped Oct 1943.
who flew with
No. 211 Squadron in attacks on enemy airfields and shipping.
In mid–August when RAF Blenheims made a spectacular and highly
successful raid on Italian flying–boats in Menelaio Bay, New Zealanders
captained five of the attacking aircraft. Squadron Leader Shannon and
Pilot Officer Blackmore
Squadron Leader H. G. P. Blackmore; born Wellington, 15 Mar 1914; joined RAFMay 1938; killed on air operations, 20 Oct 1941.
flew fighter Blenheims of No. 30 Squadron
while Pilot Officers Walker, Ferguson and Nicolson captained bombers
of No. 55 Squadron. The force flew overland to Sidi Barrani, where it
turned out to sea and then continued to the target along the coast.
Complete surprise was thus achieved and there was little opposition
as No. 55 Squadron bombed from as low as 600 feet and machine-gunned targets on water and land; then as the bombers turned for
home Shannon led his Blenheims down in low–flying attacks with front
and rear machine guns. Altogether twelve enemy seaplanes were
crippled or sunk; a fuel dump near the jetty was also set on fire and
the flames spread to a nearby equipment store.
Flying Bombays with No. 216 Squadron in Egypt, Pilot Officers
Bagnall
Wing Commander D. R. Bagnall, DSO, DFC, DFC (US); born Auckland, 23 Sep 1918;
civil servant; joined RAF1939; commanded No. 40 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943–44;
Air Staff, No. 28 Group, AEAF, 1944; Air Branch, SHAEF, 1944–45.
and Chisholm
Wing Commander R. T. Chisholm; born Dunedin, 2 Feb 1912; joined RAF1936;
transferred RNZAFJul 1944; commanded No. 194 Sqdn, SEAC, 1944.
were among the pioneer transport pilots who
carried VIPs and moved stores and personnel to various landing
grounds; they also bombed Tobruk. Flying Officer Holdsworth,
Flying Officer C. W. Holdsworth; born Wellington, 20 Apr 1916; joined RAF Jul
1938; killed on air operations, 15 Jun 1941.
a
Lysander pilot with No. 208 Army Co–operation Squadron, flew reconnaissance sorties for 7 Armoured Division and made many flights on
photographic reconnaissances, artillery spotting and for counter-battery shoots.
From Alexandria Flying Officers Hughes
Wing Commander S. W. R. Hughes, OBE, AFC, DFC (Gk); born Devonport, 25 Oct
1914; joined RAFJun 1938; commanded Sea Rescue Flight, Middle East, 1942; training
staff, RAF Middle East, 1943–45.
and Milligan
Wing Commander D. N. Milligan, DFC; born Wellington, 19 Dec 1916; clerk; joined
RAF6 Dec 1937; killed on active service, 18 Jan 1944.
captained
Sunderland flying boats of No. 230 Squadron on anti–submarine, reconnaissance and convoy escort patrols over the eastern Mediterranean.
Towards the end of June, one crew from their squadron attacked and
sank two Italian submarines, one of them in the Ionian Sea and the
other between Crete and Sicily; on the latter occasion the pilot landed
alongside the wreckage in a rough sea and picked up four survivors.
About the same time another Sunderland on reconnaissance near
Tobruk was attacked by four Italian fighters. It shot down one of them
and drove off the others after a fifteen minutes' engagement. The flying-boat's fuel tanks were extensively holed but the leaks were plugged
with plasticine. ‘I had to warn these enterprising captains,’ writes
Longmore, ‘against trailing their coats too close to Italian fighter bases.
Though the Sunderland's armament of ten machine guns was quite
formidable we could not really afford the loss of even one Sunderland
if it could be avoided nor could we afford, from the maintenance point
of view, having them return after a self–sought encounter looking like
pepper pots.’
From the Sudan Flight Lieutenant Magill,
Wing Commander G. R. Magill, OBE, DFC and bar, m.i.d.; born Te Aroha, Cambridge,
23 Jan 1915; electrical engineer; joined RAF31 Aug 1936; commanded No. 180 Sqdn
1943; Operations Staff, No. 2 Group, 1943–45.
Pilot Officers Joel
Wing Commander L. J. Joel, DFC; RAF; born Dunedin, 3 Jan 1917; joined RAFAug 1938; commanded No. 55 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943–44; Operations Staff, No. 38
Group, 1944–45.
and
Mackenzie
Flying Officer M. Mackenzie; born Greenpark, 21 Nov 1913; farmer; joined RAFJul 1938; killed on air operations, 27 May 1941.
flew Wellesley bombers in the most difficult operations
against enemy airfields, camps and towns in Eritrea and Abyssinia.
Magill, who flew with No. 47 Squadron from Erkowit, was later to be
outstanding as a squadron commander and then in planning air operations with the Second Tactical Air Force in Europe. Joel, with No. 223
Squadron based at Summit, was to complete three operational tours in
the Middle East and to command the well–known No. 55 Bomber
Squadron. Mackenzie, who was with No. 14 Squadron at Port Sudan,
did valuable work in convoy escort duties and anti–submarine patrols
in the Red Sea in addition to his part in bombing operations.
From Aden, Flying Officer Young
Squadron Leader R. C. Young, DFC, m.i.d.; born Kakanui, 22 Oct 1913; joined RAF6 Dec 1937; transferred RNZAFJan 1944.
captained Blenheims on bombing
missions to Eritrea and was particularly prominent during the Italian
offensive against British Somaliland in August 1940. Flying Officers
Barnitt,
Flying Officer H. M. F. Barnitt, DFC; born New Plymouth, 13 Jan 1918; joined RAFJun 1938; killed on air operations, 20 Oct 1940.
Hutton
Flight Lieutenant C. R. Hutton; born Wellington, 28 Feb 1916; joined RAFJul 1938;
transferred RNZAFJan 1944.
and Nelson
Squadron Leader A. W. Nelson; born Wellington, 18 Oct 1915; clerk; joined RAFAug 1937.
also captained aircraft operating from
Aden on convoy escort and reconnaissance over the Red Sea and its
southern approaches. Barnitt several times fought off attacks by enemy
bombers on ships in the approaches to Aden. During an early October
patrol when three Italian aircraft approached the convoy, he sent one
of them crashing into the sea and another limping away, belching
clouds of smoke, in what the admiring and enthusiastic crew of an
escort ship described as ‘a very gallant action’. A few days later, after
a long patrol which included combat with an enemy bomber, he landed
at Kamaran Island to refuel; whilst taking off again an engine failed
and he was killed when his Blenheim crashed into a corner of a mosque.
Barnitt had already been recommended for the award of the Distinguished Flying Cross and this was confirmed shortly after his death.
He was the first New Zealander in the Middle East to be decorated for
war service.
New Zealanders also held a variety of ground posts at this time.
Wing Commander Mitchell
Wing Commander A. C. Mitchell; born Balcutha, 2 Nov 1904; joined RAF25 May 1928; died on active service, 18 Sep 1940.
was Senior Air Staff Officer at Aden;
Squadron Leader Richmond
Group Captain R. C. Richmond; RAF (retd); born Wellington, 14 Mar 1905; joined
RAF1930; permanent commission RAF1935; signals duties, HQ Middle East, 1940–41;
HQ Fighter Command, 1943–44; commanded No. 70 Wing, 1944; commanded RAF
Station, Yatesbury, 1947–48; signals duties, No. 3 Group, 1948–49.
was on the signals staff of No. 252 Wing
in Egypt; Squadron Leader Bennett
Squadron Leader R. J. Bennett; born Blenheim, 9 May 1908; joined RAF1930; killed
on air operations, 12 Apr 1941.
was an armament officer with
No. 202 Group at Maaten Baggush, Squadron Leader J. S. Smith
Squadron Leader J. S. Smith; born Timaru, 30 Jan 1895; served RFC and RAF 1915–21;
rejoined RAFFeb 1939.
was
in the operations room at Headquarters RAF, Middle East, and
Squadron Leaders A. H.
Wing Commander A. H. Marsack, MBE, m.i.d.; born Parnell, Auckland, 6 Oct 1906;
joined RAF1930; permanent commission 1936; Special Intelligence, Middle East,
1939–44.
and D. H. Marsack
Group Captain D. H. Marsack; born Parnell, Auckland, 26 Feb 1909; joined RAF1930;
permanent commission 1936; Intell. and Admin. duties, Middle East, 1939–45.
were doing valuable
work as intelligence officers. A small group of men from the Dominion
were also serving in Iraq, notably at the important Flying Training
School at Habbaniya; here Squadron Leader Nedwill
Squadron Leader R. J. C. Nedwill, AFC; born Christchurch, 2 Jun 1913; joined RAF16 Mar 1934; killed on active service, 26 Mar 1941.
and Flying
Officer Murdoch
Squadron Leader A. O'S. Murdoch; born Dunedin, 4 Jan 1916; salesman; joined
RAF25 Oct 1937; killed on air operations, 27 Apr 1944.
were among the flying instructors.
* * * * *
After three months of war the only major success the Italians could
claim was the capture of British Somaliland.
Here the small British forces which had relied upon the co–operation of the French airfields and garrison in the neighbouring colony of Djibouti had been unable to hold out
against a very superior Italian force. But they retreated with the utmost skill. Fighting
all the way and supported by the RAF squadrons from Aden, they made good their
withdrawal and under the protection of a few long–range Blenheim fighters were
successfully taken off to Aden.
But on the ground they
still held the advantage even though they had been slow to make use
of it; and when at last, in mid–September, Graziani began his advance
into Egypt, Wavell was forced to withdraw his troops from the frontier
to prepared positions at Mersa Matruh. For about a week the Italian
columns, constantly harassed by our ground and air forces, moved
slowly forward until they reached Sidi Barrani, where they ground to
a halt. They were still some sixty miles short of the main British
defences but at the moment Graziani had no desire to advance further
until he had built up supplies. A bold offensive a few weeks earlier
might conceivably have overrun Egypt, but Italian strategy had succumbed to over–caution and the great opportunity was allowed to
slip away.
For British reinforcements had now begun to reach the Middle East.
Despite the German invasion threat to Britain, Churchill and his
Cabinet had taken the bold decision to send some of their most precious
material and reinforcements to the Mediterranean. With the arrival of
an armoured brigade towards the end of September, Wavell was not
only able to consolidate the defence of Egypt but also to contemplate
a limited offensive. And as the weeks passed with Graziani still lingering
over his preparations for further advance, Wavell went ahead with
plans for a surprise attack. This, however, had to be delayed until the
middle of December because the RAF, whose support he regarded as
essential to success, had to send some of its best squadrons to help the
Greeks in Albania. In the meantime ground operations were mainly
confined to patrol activity by both sides. But even here the initiative
now passed to the British.
Throughout the autumn the small RAF force in Egypt continued to
strike at the enemy. Supply ports, lines of communication, landing
grounds, military camps and dumps—all came under attack. British
fighter pilots continued to keep their opponents on the defensive and
when the Italians did attempt to retaliate they enjoyed singularly little
success. One day at the end of October when fifteen S79s, escorted by
eighteen Cr42s, made a determined effort to bomb our forward positions, they were intercepted by twelve Hurricanes and ten Gladiators
and returned at least eight short. Again, in mid–November, when a
Lysander and a Blenheim escorted by nine Hurricanes and six Gladiators were sent to photograph the Italian positions south of Sidi Barrani,
a swarm of Cr42s rose to give combat; for over half an hour the British
formation fought a lively engagement and then returned intact with
seven enemy aircraft to its credit and all the required photographs—
including some excellent pictures of the Italian anti–tank defences.
But these were difficult days for Middle East Air Command and
Longmore had to keep juggling his small resources between the Western Desert, East Africa, the Red Sea and the Sudan, so that the Italians
might not secure those advantages to which their vast numerical
superiority entitled them. After Mussolini's attack on Greece in October, Longmore was obliged to draw upon his small force in Egypt to
the extent of three squadrons of Blenheims and one of Gladiators.
These units were to do splendid work in support of the hard–pressed
Greeks
In the early stages the Italians had made some small progress into Greek territory,
supported by Italian air attacks which the numerically inferior Greek Air Force was
unable to check. However, with the arrival of British squadrons the situation changed
to the advantage of the Greeks in their frontier operations. Blenheims attacked Valona
and Sarande Bay, as well as aerodromes in Albania within reach; Wellingtons from
Malta also bombed the Adriatic ports of Bari and Brindisi, whence reinforcements were
going to Valona. By the third week in November the Greeks had captured Koritza
and driven the Italians back across the frontier.
and their despatch was considered politically necessary at the
time, but they could ill be spared if effective assistance was to be given
to Wavell's forthcoming offensive from Egypt. Indeed, to keep his
promise, Longmore had to strip Alexandria and the Canal of their
defending squadrons and bring up a few others from Aden and the
Sudan. Even these moves provided a British fighter force of only
sixty–five aircraft when the offensive began.
A thin trickle of reinforcement aircraft—Blenheims, Hurricanes and
the first Wellington bombers—had begun to arrive from Britain but
it was months before the loss occasioned by the transfers to Greece
was offset. For after the fall of France the strengthening of British air
resources in the Middle East was no easy matter. Only the longer range
machines could be flown out by way of Gibraltar and Malta, on which
route their newly trained crews faced the hazards of the long night-flight south from Britain, the unpleasantly short runway at Gibraltar
and the night landing and take–off from Malta. Aircraft of shorter range
had to be shipped by sea, which involved the long time–consuming
journey round the Cape. Fortunately, however, the possibility of shipping aircraft to West Africa and then flying them across to Egypt had
already been explored and during the latter part of September 1940 a
first flight of five Hurricanes, led and guided by a Blenheim, completed the 4000–mile journey from Takoradi, on the Gold Coast, via
Kano and Khartoum, to Egypt.
The opening of this new reinforcement route held great promise
which was to be amply fulfilled. But at first many months' work were
needed before it was properly organised. Considerable workshops and
accommodation had to be built at Takoradi and various refuelling and
other facilities provided for along the way. The climate and the local
malaria harassed the men erecting the crated aircraft. There was heavy
wear on engines during the long flight over barren and sandy spaces.
Weather and other troubles also hampered the air convoys. Early in
December 1940, when the first six Hurricanes of No. 73 Squadron
were on the fifth lap of their flight, the wireless of the guiding Blenheim failed, its crew lost their bearings and in the gathering darkness
all seven machines were forced to land in the desert. Two Hurricanes
crashed beyond repair, one of the pilots was killed, and the other four
Hurricanes were all badly damaged. With such misadventures the number of aircraft unserviceable awaiting spares along the route soon piled
up.
There were other inevitable causes of delay. When the Hurricanes
reached Egypt they had to be stripped of their long–range tanks, overhauled and fitted with guns. Furthermore, when squadrons were moved
to the Middle East their ground staffs and equipment had to travel by
sea around the Cape, and on more than one occasion it was found that
stores had been packed in cases which bore no distinctive marking.
Because of all these various difficulties none of the aircraft supplied
via Takoradi became available in 1940. Yet as Churchill remarks: ‘if
the scheme had not been begun in good time the Army of the Nile
and all its ventures could not have lived through the tragic events of
1941.’
New Zealand airmen took their share in blazing this air trail over
four thousand miles of swamps, dense jungle, barren desert and varying
climates. The pioneer flight to which the route owed its foundation
had, in fact, been made by Sir Arthur Coningham fifteen years earlier,
when as a young squadron leader he led three De Havilland aircraft
on the double journey between Cairo and Kano, in Nigeria. Among
the pilots who flew some of the first reinforcement aircraft from Takoradi to Egypt were Flying Officers Milne,
Flight Lieutenant R. F. Milne; born Wellington, 11 Jul 1920; clerk; joined RAF31 Oct
1938; killed on air operations, 15 Feb 1943.
Daniell
Squadron Leader R. D. Daniell, DFC, AFC, Flying Cross (Hol); born Hamilton, 29
Oct 1920; joined RNZAFDec 1939; transferred RAFJun 1940; retransferred RNZAFJun 1945.
and Cotterill,
Flight Lieutenant G. W. Cotterill, DFC; born Hastings, 22 Apr 1916; commercial
pilot; joined RAFSep 1940; killed in flying accident, 8 Nov 1945.
while Pilot Officers Reid
Flight Lieutenant R. P. Reid; born Dunedin, 13 Jan 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF4 Jun
1940.
and Williams
Flying Officer A. G. B. Williams; born Turakina, 19 Aug 1916; farmhand; joined
RNZAF4 Jun 1940; killed on air operations, 25 Jul 1942.
did good work as navigators
in the leading Blenheims. No small contribution to the maintenance
of the Takoradi route in its early days was made by Flying Officers
Bagnall, Chisholm and Allcock
Wing Commander G. M. Allcock, DFC and bar; born Wellington, 14 Dec 1916;
commercial pilot; joined RNZAFNov 1938; transferred RAFAug 1939; CGI No. 1651
Conversion Unit, 1942–43; No. 7 Sqdn, 1945.
of No. 216 Squadron, who flew Bombay transports along the route carrying stores and spare parts for the
various staging posts.
Experienced pilots were soon chosen to lead formations and Flying
Officer Milne in particular frequently performed this duty. These
leaders were entirely responsible for the convoy and their difficulties
were manifold. Aircraft frequently disappeared from formation and
the leader, mindful of the slight margin of petrol they carried, had to
decide whether to search for the missing machine or to continue. Radio-telephony, on which so much depended once a formation took to the
air, often proved unserviceable and at staging posts the leader was
often called upon to decide whether aircraft which had developed some
defect should carry on or stay behind for repairs. Not the least of his
problems in this period was that of accommodation at the various
posts, where facilities for the weary crews left much to be desired;
men often had to spend the night in billets with bug-infested beds and
inadequate protection against mosquitoes.
Here is a description of the daily stages between Takoradi and Cairo
provided by one of the pilots:
On the first day we left Takoradi with its red cliffs and steaming Gold
Coast bush for Lagos, the first staging post in Nigeria, about 380 miles away.
The formation coast-crawled to Accra, past steamy swamplands, native
fishing villages and the 17th and 18th century Portuguese castles of the old
slave traders. From Accra, we flew along about ten miles out to sea to avoid
Vichy-French Dahomey and then inland again along the mangrove swamps
to put down at Apapa, the airport of Lagos, built on what had once been
swampland.
The second day the formation flew on to Kano, a distance of 525 miles.
On leaving the lakes the track turned north-east and inland over threatening
dense jungle which began to thin north of the river Niger. At last the red
dust of Kano appeared, an antique walled city and a centuries old staging
post for land traffic between the Sahara and the Congo.
The journey between Kano and El Geneina in the Sudan, a total of some
960 miles, was made in two stages on the third day. From Kano a heartening
patch of advanced cultivation for some 30 miles was quickly succeeded by
scrub and arid country until a convenient road from Kano could be followed
into Maiduguri where the flight would put down for refuelling. Leaving
Nigeria, course was set across French Equatorial Africa but here the Colonial Troops, unlike their compatriates of the Dahomey, had declared for the
Free French and the airfield at Fort Lamy offered a valuable refuelling point
and an emergency landing ground. On this stage Lake Fitri was a valuable
pinpoint for navigators but could be somewhat disturbing in that, being
mainly a mass of swamps, the outline shifted up to thirty miles between the
wet and dry seasons. Now in the heart of Africa, the country became progressively more barren, more gruelling with only outcrops of rock to relieve
the monotony. Finally Geneina was reached. Although situated on a large
wadi crossing the route its sandy surface made it somewhat difficult to pick
out from the air.
On the fourth day aircraft flew from Geneina to Khartoum in two stages,
a short one of 190 miles and the other of 560 miles. From Geneina the
country retained its desert characteristics with occasional patches of scrub
and trees over the short hop to El Fasher where aircraft refuelled. Here in
the Sudanese desert aircraft which made forced landings were extremely
difficult to locate and the almost inevitable result for the crews was death
from thirst. Accordingly the direct route was soon diverted for fighter aircraft to El Obeid where a temporary area of cultivation was found. Sandstorms were prevalent over the remaining 250 miles to Khartoum with consequent low visibility so that the aircraft's track was deflected to starboard
until the Nile could be located and used as a leading line into Khartoum.
From Khartoum aircraft flew to Abu Sueir by covering 520 miles on the
fifth day and some 500 miles on the sixth and last day. From Khartoum the
route was comparatively easy. With a convenient refuelling point at Wadi
Halfa crews had little to do but follow the magnificent course of the Nile
above the Cataracts, Luxor, the Valley of Kings, until finally the great
pyramids and the sprawling mass of Cairo, topped by the Citadel, came
into sight.
As the Takoradi air route became firmly established, New Zealanders
in company with their comrades from other parts of the Empire and
from Allied nations continued the exacting task of ferrying aircraft
across Africa. Unfortunately the hazards of flight across long
stretches of inhospitable country, the vagaries of weather, the inexperience of some airmen and the difficulties of aircraft maintenance
under extremely trying conditions all took their toll in lives. The
causes of many accidents were never known–typical was the loss of
Flying Officer Pettit
Flying Officer N. C. Pettit; born Wairoa, 25 Dec 1920; joined RNZAF12 Sep 1939;
transferred RAFApr 1940; killed on air operations, 28 Aug 1941.
in late August 1941 when his aircraft was unable
to maintain height and fell into the sea off Lagos. However, the fore-
sightforesight of the route's originators, the devotion of its aircrews and the
hard work of the ground staffs were to be amply repaid. By May 1943
over 5300 British and American aircraft of many types, including
fighters, light bombers and transports, had been flown from Takoradi
to the Middle East Command.
* * * * *
At dawn on 9 December 1940 Wavell struck at the Italian Army in
the Western Desert. The attack took the enemy completely by surprise
and within a few days not only Sidi Barrani but Sollum and Capuzzo
were in our hands and the erstwhile invaders of Egypt were streaming
back across its frontier. This success exceeded all expectations for
Wavell had planned only a limited advance beyond Sidi Barrani. But
the opportunities for exploitation which now presented themselves
were seized with vigour. Sweeping forward into Cyrenaica, British
forces under Lieutenant–General O'Connor proceeded to invest Bardia
which, although strongly fortified and well placed for defence, was
captured early in January with 40,000 prisoners. Then came further
rapid advance to Tobruk, an Italian naval base and a main supply port.
Here also there were good perimeter defences, but after a short delay
caused by sandstorms these were speedily penetrated and the town fell
on 21 January with something like 25,000 prisoners.
At this point further progress was gravely threatened by the British
Cabinet's offer of troops and armoured forces to the Greeks. But
fortunately the Greek Government was satisfied for the moment to
face the Italians with its own meagre forces and such aid as could be
given by the RAF. Wavell's army was thus left free to complete its
rout of the Italians and this it proceeded to do in one of the most
remarkable operations of the war. While 6 Australian and 7 Armoured
Divisions thrust forward along the coastal road to seize Derna, Mechili
and Benghazi, a small force cut directly across rocky and waterless
country to reach the main highway to the south. The Italian force
retreating from Benghazi, still 25,000 strong, was thus trapped, and
after a brief but desperate effort to break out it surrendered. The
British advance finally came to a halt on 6 February 1941 when its
advanced guards reached the region of El Agheila
Months of disappointment and disaster were soon to follow and all
that had been won in Cyrenaica was to be cast away in the vain effort
to sustain Greece, but nothing can obscure the brilliance of this early
campaign. Within two months a force never exceeding two divisions
had advanced 600 miles over desert territory, utterly routed an Italian
army of no fewer than ten divisions, and captured 130,000 prisoners,
1290 guns and 400 tanks at a cost to itself of barely 3000 casualties.
But this was not the only achievement of Wavell's Middle East
Command during the early months of 1941. Simultaneously with the
advance into Cyrenaica, attacks had been launched against the Italians
in East Africa. From the Sudan British forces pushed into Eritrea
where, after bitter fighting, they captured the great natural stronghold
of Keren and swept on to Asmara and Massawa. Troops from Kenya
also advanced into Italian Somaliland and Abyssinia, rapidly capturing
enemy bases and airfields despite the difficult country over which they
had to fight. So successful was the conduct of the whole campaign that
within a few short months the Italians were to lose the whole of their
East African possessions and most of Abyssinia. The menace of large
enemy air and ground forces in the rear of Egypt was thus removed
and British troops and air squadrons could be moved north, where they
were urgently needed.
The RAF contributed much to the success of both these victories.
In the Western Desert Collishaw's squadrons, by dispersing and subduing the opposing Italian air force, enabled Wavell's initial attack to
achieve all the advantages of surprise. They then gave most valuable
help in the opening stages of the battle by their reconnaissance, bombing and fighter patrols; highly effective attacks on enemy transport
and airfields were made by low–flying Hurricanes, some of which made
as many as four sorties a day.
Throughout the hectic weeks that followed both fighters and bombers constantly harassed the retreating enemy columns, preparing the
way for and covering the advance of our ground forces at every stage.
How greatly this air support helped to speed the Army's advance is
shown by what happened at Tobruk. Here reconnaissance planes
secured valuable photographs of enemy positions and minefields and
the main air effort was then applied within a defended perimeter around
the town. Combined air and naval bombardment during the two nights
immediately before the ground assault softened the defences and in the
final hours protracted bombing by Wellingtons covered the assembly
of our tanks. At dawn on 21 January British tanks and Australian
infantry moved forward under fighter cover and a creeping barrage.
At the same time Blenheims, Lysanders and Hurricanes operated ahead
of the troops to keep the threatened area clear of reinforcements.
Quickly piercing the outer defences our forces poured through, and
with the help of incessant air attacks the bulk of the artillery was soon
established inside the perimeter. The intensity of the effort in the air
may be judged from the fact that one squadron with only eight serviceable Blenheims flew thirty–two sorties during the day. By the evening
the Australians had captured the escarpment which dominates the harbour and the next morning they entered the town.
The RAF also won a notable victory over the numerically superior
Italian Air Force, with the important result that British troops were
never seriously held up by enemy aircraft during their victorious sweep
through Cyrenaica. From the outset the Italians were driven almost
completely on the defensive by the aggressiveness of the small British
fighter force, whose only really modern machines were some thirty-odd Hurricanes. Numerous attacks on airfields and landing grounds
added to the enemy's difficulties and led to the virtual collapse of his
air force in the later stages. When the airfields at El Adem, Gazala and
Benina were captured they were found littered with the wreckage of
Italian machines. Altogether 1100 enemy planes were counted shattered
and abandoned all over the desert. Along with the aircraft wreckage
were hundreds of enemy lorries smashed by air attack, while in
Cyrenaican harbours lay thirty–five ships that had been destroyed or
disabled from the air.
After the capture of Benghazi Lieutenant–General O'Connor addressed this special Order of the Day to Air Commodore Collishaw:
‘I wish,’ he wrote, ‘to record my very great appreciation of the wonderful
work of the R.A.F. units under your command, whose determination and
fine fighting qualities have made this campaign possible.
'Since the war began you have consistently attacked without intermission
an enemy Air Force between five and ten times your strength dealing him
blow after blow until finally he was driven out of the sky and out of Libya
leaving hundreds of derelict aircraft on his aerodromes. In his recent retreat
from Tobruk you gave his ground troops no rest, bombing their concentrations and carrying out low flying attacks on their transport columns.’
‘In addition you have co–operated to the full in carrying out our many
requests for special bombardments, reconnaissances and protection against
enemy air action and I should like to say how much all this has contributed
to our success.’
Support for the campaign in East Africa followed a similar pattern.
The country was difficult and most of the flying had to be done over
hostile territory or against well–defended positions in single–engined
aircraft. Nevertheless the British squadrons, with what General Platt
politely terms ‘their variety of machines’, soon gained air superiority.
‘By a continuous forward policy they drove their opponents from the
air and destroyed their machines on the ground; the army was indeed
grateful for the immunity from hostile air attack thus gained.’ The
RAF also did much to reduce enemy resistance on the ground by its
frequent attacks on gun positions, forward defended localities and
supply lines. ‘During the battle for Keren,’ says Platt, ‘determined
enemy counter–attacks were broken up by the help of close support
from the R.A.F.’ Meanwhile, ‘our long columns of transport continually on the road between Keren and Kassala, were never interfered
with from the air.’ And so it continued as the East African campaign
moved to its triumphant conclusion.
* * * * *
But the British run of success in North Africa was short–lived. For
Hitler had decided that Germany must now intervene in the Middle
East and this decision was to have an immediate and far–reaching effect
on the course of events. Early in January 1941, in order to bolster
his shaky ally, Hitler sent a strong contingent of the Luftwaffe to Sicily,
and a few weeks later further air squadrons, together with the leading
elements of an armoured corps under a young and able commander,
Erwin Rommel, reached Tripoli.
Fearful for the safety of the Rumanian oilfields from air attack
Hitler also ordered the preparation of plans for the occupation of the
Balkans and the Aegean coast, including the Greek mainland. This
new threat to their country thoroughly alarmed the Greeks and they
now decided to accept the offer of help from the British Army which
they had previously refused. Complicated discussions followed but it
was finally decided in London that four British divisions, including
two Australian and one New Zealand as agreed by their Governments,
should be sent to Greece from Egypt. It was a decision fraught with
grave consequences. For it meant that at the very moment when
German forces were arriving in North Africa to reinforce the Italians,
Wavell had to deplete his army in order to send the required help.
Indeed it will long be a matter for controversy whether from the
strategic point of view a serious error was not made in sending British
forces to Greece and thus gravely weakening the Army in the Western
Desert. But it was a higher strategy decision made primarily in the
hope of building up a Balkan front and on the additional ground that
if Britain had left Greece unsupported in her extremity she would
have been shamed before the world.
For a more detailed account of the decision to assist Greece see W. G. McClymont, To
Greece, Chap. 6.
Events now moved swiftly. At the end of March 1941 the Germans
and Italians counter–attacked in Cyrenaica. The weak British forces
covering Benghazi were taken more or less by surprise and forced to
retreat. Rommel followed up with a series of rapid outflanking movements during which the single British armoured division was overrun
and two British generals, Neame and O'Connor, fell into enemy hands.
Within a fortnight the remnants of the British forces were back at
Sollum. Tobruk was still held, however, for Wavell took the bold
decision to leave a force there and keep it supplied by sea. Rommel's
failure to capture Tobruk was to cost him a year of bitter fighting;
meanwhile the ever–increasing difficulties of supply and the ceaseless
toll of the desert robbed his advance of its momentum and the German
and Italian columns came to rest on the borders of Egypt.
But this was only the beginning. On 6 April the Germans invaded
Greece, where their strong armoured forces, with powerful air support,
quickly broke through the vital Monastir Gap and were soon advancing
rapidly southwards. The British Expeditionary Force, of which only
about one half had arrived, did its best to support the Greeks in their
heroic resistance but all was in vain. Within three weeks the Greeks
were compelled to capitulate and the British troops had no alternative
but to withdraw. Some two–thirds of the original force were skilfully
evacuated during the last week of April, but 14,000 prisoners were
taken by the Germans and the total loss was over 16,000 with all the
heavy equipment.
The final scene of the Greek tragedy was played out in Crete where
the part of the New Zealand Division evacuated to the island provided
its principal defence. Here on 20 May, after heavy bombing attacks,
the Germans began their airborne invasion, employing parachutists
and great numbers of troop–carrying gliders. The defenders fought
bravely and doggedly but the enemy, by determined and, at times,
reckless employment of his forces in the air and on the ground, soon
gained a firm foothold. His fighters and bombers subdued the anti-aircraft opposition and reinforcements began to arrive in strength.
The loss of Maleme airfield on the first day proved fatal to the defence
and within a week it was clear that Crete could no longer be held.
Once again the evacuation proved more successful than could have
been expected but the proportion saved was smaller than on the mainland.
German superiority in the air was largely responsible for their rapid
success in each of these campaigns. In Greece and Crete it was indeed
decisive. The Luftwaffe was now at the height of its power with a well-developed technique of co–operation with its ground forces and a
highly efficient organisation for supply and replacement. Royal Air
Force, Middle East, could match neither its strength nor its efficiency,
for during these early months of 1941 British air power in this theatre
reached its lowest ebb. Reinforcements were not yet arriving in sufficient quantity even to replace losses, while the earlier campaigns in
North and East Africa had seriously reduced the number of operational
aircraft with squadrons. Nor was it proving easy to keep serviceable
the machines they had. This indeed was only possible by incorporating
parts of damaged aircraft in other invalids whose cases were less advanced, a form of cannibalism which no air force can long survive.
But such desperate expedients were imposed on Middle East Air
Command by a situation in which there was far more to be done than
aircraft with which to do it. And in these circumstances there was no
hope of maintaining that degree of air superiority which had been
largely attained against the Italians; in its absence our land forces were
bound to suffer.
When the Germans and Italians launched their attack in Cyrenaica
the RAF had only four squadrons left in the Western Desert—two of
Hurricanes, one of Blenheim bombers and one with Lysanders for
army reconnaissance—while the opposing air force included no fewer
than 90 German Messerschmitts and 80 Stuka and Heinkel bombers.
In Greece the disparity was much greater for the enemy had massed
over 1000 aircraft, half of them fighters, whereas the RAF could muster
barely 200, of which only about a third were fighters. Moreover when,
after the successful winter campaign against the Italians in Greece and
Albania, the RAF moved up to meet the German attack, it found the
airfields it had to occupy were small and ill–equipped; there were no
engineers to enlarge them or to provide dispersal or protection; there
was no effective warning organisation and virtually no anti–aircraft
defence.
Skill and gallantry could and did inflict heavy casualties on superior
numbers in the air but were of little avail when the bases were defenceless. Over Crete the Germans, operating in large numbers at short range
and from secure bases, had complete air supremacy in their hands,
virtually without having to fight for it. For there were only three airfields on the island and the few British aircraft that occupied them were
soon destroyed; the airfields in Cyrenaica from which fighters might
have operated across the sea to Crete had been captured in Rommel's
advance to the Egyptian frontier.
Altogether, in the face of the enemy's marked operational advantages and his great numerical superiority, the RAF could not possibly
redress the adverse situation which quickly developed on the ground
in each of these campaigns. Nevertheless its pilots and aircrews made
most strenuous exertions to help our troops in their unequal struggle.
During the retreat from Cyrenaica the four British squadrons were
constantly in the air providing reconnaissance and cover for the Army.
They also did their best to hamper the enemy's forward movement by
attacking his supplies and concentrations of vehicles; the few Wellingtons based in Egypt also helped by bombing similar targets and, refuelling at Tobruk, they struck at Tripoli, the enemy's main supply
port.
In Greece both fighter and bomber squadrons fought valiantly. In
one early encounter twelve Hurricanes challenged thirty Messerschmitts and claimed five of them without loss. Again, during intensive
air activity in the second week, Nos. 33 and 80 Squadrons reported the
destruction of twenty–nine enemy machines. The bombers also took
their toll of German armour and vehicles, as well as attacking targets
behind his lines; but they were no match for the German fighters by
day and on more than one occasion the whole of a small formation
was wiped out.
A most gallant action was fought over Athens on 23 April 1941.
That day the Germans came through the clear sky in mass formation
of dive–bombers with a great ring of fighters circling over them.
Watchers on the ground saw the whole British fighter force go up to
meet them. It included fifteen Hurricanes in varying stages of disrepair
assembled from three broken squadrons. In one long day of fighting
these tattered aircraft and their weary pilots charged again and again
into six times their number. Five of them were lost; but they brought
down twenty–two, with eight more ‘probables’. It was a brave gesture.
The few surviving fighters with their pilots then continued defiant to
the end and they were able to give some cover to the evacuation before
they left for Crete.
On Crete a handful of weary men and worn–out aircraft that had
served their time in six months of hard fighting farther north faced
odds of more than ten to one. Yet in the first six days of the German
bombing they and the few reinforcements which reached them clawed
down more than twenty of their opponents before they were overwhelmed. A brave effort was then made to provide some fighter cover
over Crete from landing grounds some 300 miles away in the Western
Desert. Blenheims and long–range Hurricanes carrying external fuel
tanks operated at this extreme range and did succeed in destroying a
number of German aircraft, especially at Maleme; but it was a costly
endeavour for fighter after fighter was either destroyed on the ground
at Crete, lost over the sea or else, with petrol exhausted, came down in
the desert. Meanwhile RAF bombers were busy attacking the airfields
in Greece and the Dodecanese from which the German fighters and
troop–carriers were operating; they also dropped supplies to our troops
fighting on Crete. But the number of fighter and bomber sorties that
could be flown from distant bases was far too small to affect the issue.
The loss of Crete following on that of Cyrenaica and Greece led to
much bitterness and the RAF was accused of having ‘let down’ the
Army. In the streets of Cairo and in the prison camps of Germany
and ItalyRAF men were regarded with distinct disfavour, if not openly
insulted. But their critics were ignorant of the circumstances of the
time. The few squadrons of Middle East Air Command could not be
everywhere at once; their bases had been unprotected and insecure
and frequently lacked even the most elementary facilities. There was
also ignorance of the fact, which even in the later years of the war
some soldiers and sailors found difficult to grasp, that air operations
were often in the nature of things conducted out of sight of those who
benefited from them. Undoubtedly there had been mistakes but, on
the whole, the RAF had fought hard and well and under most trying
circumstances. At the end, many of its units had been reduced to three
or four serviceable aircraft. One fighter squadron in the Western Desert
lost three commanding officers within a fortnight. Another lost no
fewer than ten crews in a single week–five of them in the valiant
attempts to aid Crete and the other five during the fighting round
Tobruk. These casualties are some measure of RAF effort and sacrifice
during these months of disappointment and disaster.
Moreover, the air record is not one of complete failure and defeat.
For in the same fortnight that Crete was lost the RAF undoubtedly
saved Iraq with its oilfields and pipelines. It also helped in the next
few weeks to achieve the successful occupation of Syria, by which a
vital flank of the Middle East was sealed against German infiltration.
An outstanding feature of events in Iraq—according to Churchill
it was ‘a prime factor in our success’—was the spirited defence of the
air base at Habbaniya against greatly superior forces well equipped
with artillery. Habbaniya was the home of No. 4 Flying Training
School, where a small group of instructors and pupils had fewer than
eighty aircraft at their disposal, most of them quite unsuitable for war
operations. Nevertheless the base not only held out against the encircling forces but (with the help of a few Wellingtons from Shaibah)
bombed and machine–gunned them so effectively that on the fifth day
the enemy departed. By their gallant action the defenders of Habbaniya
gained time for ground and air reinforcements to arrive and, within a
fortnight, despite some belated intervention on the part of the Luftwaffe,
Baghdad and its airfield were captured and resistance in Iraq ceased.
What happened at Habbaniya is vividly described by Philip Guedella in his Middle East,
1940–1942. Here is a shortened version of his account:
Some 8000 Iraqi troops had assembled on the desert plateau which overlooks the airfield and their guns commanded the defenceless grey roofs at short range …. The
threatened place had no means of replying to artillery bombardment except two vintage
howitzers, a fragrant memory of the last war, appropriately relegated to decorative
duties on the lawn outside the Aircraft Depot. These veterans had now been stripped,
cleaned and overhauled for action; but there were no anti–aircraft guns and the Iraqi
Air Force could muster about fifty first–line aircraft, including American bombers and
some six Italian fighters, superior to anything at Habbaniya.
Undaunted the defenders prepared for the worst. Training aircraft were fitted with
unaccustomed bomb racks; a few time–expired Gladiators from the Western Desert were
hastily rejuvenated and pupils were regaled in unexpected and extensive courses in rear
gunnery and bomb aiming. Audaxes, normally capable of carrying 8 × 20 lb. bombs,
were made ready to take the air with a load of 2 × 250 lb. bombs.
Operations continued under heavy fire all the first day; the aircraft working from the
main aerodromes, which lay within half a mile of the Iraqi guns, had ‘no time to linger.’
Starting up behind the hangars, they took off by opening their throttles inside the iron
fence, dashing through the gate, racing across the aerodrome, and irrespective of the
wind, making a steep climbing turn to miss the plateau; and when they returned a steep
turn between hangars served to elude pom-pom fire followed (if they were lucky) by a
landing, a sharp turn inside the gate and a quick run to safety round the corner of a
hangar ….
The days that followed were an indistinguishable nightmare. Work began half an hour
before dawn and went on until after dark. Flying was continuous; and the women and
children were evacuated by air, the transports taking off for Basra under cover of dive-bombing by the versatile Audaxes. They took to night flying, a disagreeable pastime,
where no flare path could be used and a blind take–off was followed by a landing in the
light of the aircraft's own landing lamp, hurriedly switched on when the altimeter
registered a height of fifty feet and promptly switched off again on touching down.
Their numbers dwindled and the toll of wounded pilots rose. The wastage of aircraft
was formidable, only four out of twenty–seven Oxfords remaining serviceable after
three days of fighting …. But a few Blenheims reached them; and ranging farther
afield the little force attacked Iraqi aerodromes, destroying a number of aircraft on the
ground; supplies intended for the enemy troops on the plateau were sedulously bombed
on the way from Baghdad; and by 5 May the besiegers were beginning to taste all the
pleasures of a siege themselves. The tables had been neatly turned and now Habbaniya
went over to the offensive.
Throughout these fateful months of hard fighting many New
Zealanders were in action as fighter and reconnaissance pilots and as
captains and navigators of bomber aircraft. Flying Officers Bagnall
and Chisholm were among those who did good work in bomber operations from Egypt. Both before and during the early stages of
Wavell's advance they took their lumbering Bombays night after night
over the ports of Benghazi and Tobruk. At that time it was important
to interrupt the forward flow of Italian troops and supplies, particularly of tanks which were shipped between these ports to avoid the
wear and tear of the long road journey to the front. For the long flight
to Benghazi an additional petrol tank was fitted inside the fuselage of
the Bombays and this tank had to be refilled during flight from forty
4–gallon petrol tins which, when empty, were kicked out into the night.
Flight Lieutenant Schrader,
Wing Commander G. L. M. Schrader; born Wellington, 11 Apr 1914; clerk; joined
RAF8 Jun 1936; killed on active service as result of road accident, 31 May 1943.
Flying Officer Milnes
Squadron Leader G. E. Milnes, m.i.d.; born Christchurch, 7 Nov 1913; joined RAFSep 1939; killed in flying accident, 18 Jan 1943.
and Flying
Officer Hogg
Squadron Leader R. J. K. Hogg, DSO, DFC, m.i.d.; born Milton, 9 Jun 1916; clerk;
joined RAF23 Dec 1938.
flew some of the first Wellington bombers which joined
in the attack of ports and airfields behind the enemy lines. Later the
Wellingtons flew to Tripoli to bomb troops and supplies there; a few
of them also operated from airfields in Greece against Italian Adriatic
ports; back in Egypt they bombed airfields from which German aircraft were operating over Greece and Crete.
Flying Officers Bullot,
Flying Officer F. R. Bullot; born New Plymouth, 27 Jun 1916; joined RAFJun 1938;
killed on air operations, 21 Jan 1941.
Ferguson, Nicolson and Walker operated
over the Western Desert with No. 55 Blenheim Squadron. Throughout
the advance and retreat this squadron worked particularly hard attacking enemy airfields and supply columns, as well as supporting the
ground forces by bombing and reconnaissance. In one month the
Blenheims flew forty–nine sorties by day and eighteen by night, principally over Crete to help the troops fighting there. Another 110 sorties
were made on reconnaissance or bombing missions over the Western
Desert. Brushes with enemy fighters became more frequent as German
squadrons began to operate over the desert and the Blenheims that
returned were often badly shot up. Not one of the four New Zealanders
survived. Flying Officer Bullot was lost in January; Walker failed to
return from a long reconnaissance to Tripoli in March and Ferguson
and Nicolson were lost a few weeks later. Indeed such were the
hazards of the early operations in the Middle East that barely half the
men mentioned in this chapter survived the first two years.
Operating first from Egypt and then from Greece, Flight Lieutenant
Buchanan and Flying Officer Campbell achieved a fine record of service
as captains of Blenheim bombers with No. 211 Squadron. During the
latter part of the campaign in Greece, Buchanan led his flight on eight
sorties in eight days and received the award, rare in these early days,
of the Distinguished Flying Cross. Flying Officer Fabian,
Squadron Leader A. J. M. Fabian; born Wellington, 23 Oct 1898; stores manager;
joined RAFNov 1940; transferred RAAF Jul 1941.
a New
Zealand pilot of the First World War, also served in Greece on the
operations staff of No. 211 Squadron.
Nearly all records of RAF operations in Greece were lost but here
is one pilot's account of how No. 211 Squadron fared in the early
stages:
When the Squadron moved to Greece, Fabian had the task of planning
the layout of the camp in Paramythia, south of the Albanian frontier and
almost midway between Yanina and the Island of Corfu. There was only
the stony flower covered bed of the valley just south of the little village of
Paramythia for Fabian to work on with sheer peaks rising on all sides. A
solitary saloon car comprised the entire transport section and this was used
to carry water, petrol, fetch rations or to bomb up aircraft. A tremendous
ridge rose to 5,000 feet to the East. A mountain road followed the Kalamas
River to the village of Yanina where was stationed No. 80 (Gladiator)
Squadron. Communications were bad. There was one road to the north,
and that narrow, and one single track railway.
No. 211 Squadron made a notable raid against the Italians on the morning
of February 13. Three flights of Blenheims took off down wind—there was
no other way to avoid the mountain barrier—and then flew across the
Kalamas River and wound their way up the narrow valleys past Argyrokastron, ‘The Silver Fort,’ avoiding the fire of Italian anti–aircraft guns
hidden in the mountain sides. After half–an–hour's flying time the formation
was over the target, a mountain ridge north–west of Tepelene, where the
enemy was mustering reinforcements. Here Buchanan's flight was attacked
by Italian Macchi fighters; one of them was shot down by his turret gunner,
not however before explosive bullets had hit the mainspar of one wing and
the tail wheel had been shot away. Buchanan, however made a safe
landing ….
During the evacuation of Greece the Blenheims flew out with men
crammed into every available space, even the turrets. But neither
Buchanan nor Campbell was able to take part. Early in January Campbell's aircraft was one of two Blenheims which failed to return from
a raid on Valona. He was taken prisoner by the Italians but succeeded
in making good his escape in October 1943. Buchanan lost his life
while flying with a formation of six Blenheims to bomb Monastir in
mid–April. Not one of these aircraft returned.
During the campaign in East Africa, Flight Lieutenant Magill and
Flying Officer Joel were prominent as captains of Wellesley bombers
operating against targets in Eritrea and Abyssinia; Magill commanded
a detachment at an advanced base and led many sorties, including the
notable raid on Dangila at the end of November 1940, which is said
to have caused consternation among the seven enemy battalions stationed there. Flying Officer Mackenzie did good work in patrol and
attack in the Red Sea area as a Blenheim pilot. He had one narrow
escape when, flying to attack the Italians at Nefasit, one of his engines
was hit in a brush with enemy fighters and he had to make a forced
landing in wild country; fortunately his leader saw his predicament,
landed successfully and picked him and his crew up.
Early in April 1941 Mackenzie and Joel both took part in the highly
successful attack on five Italian destroyers that were attempting to
escape from Massawa. Four of the warships were sunk or disabled
while the fifth put back and scuttled herself in the port. On another
patrol Mackenzie sighted and attacked an Italian submarine off Massawa;
one bomb scored almost a direct hit, a second fell close alongside;
nothing more was seen of the submarine.
Adventure and misadventure were frequent in these early days and
were accepted as part of the day's work, but the story of Flying Officer
Mackenzie and his navigator, Sergeant Fearn,
Flight Lieutenant M. B. Fearn, DFM; born Invercargill, 6 Apr 1919; clerk; joined
RNZAFJan 1940.
deserves to be recounted here. Flying Blenheim bombers, their squadron was operating
over the Western Desert and as far as Crete. Returning from a sortie to
Crete Mackenzie and his crew were unable to locate their base. The
wireless had failed and, with their aircraft running short of petrol, they
decided to bale out rather than risk a crash landing in the desert. All
three men jumped safely, unaware they were over the Qattara Depression, some seventy miles south of El Daba. They had planned to meet
at their burning aircraft, but it blew up on hitting the ground and there
were no flames to guide them. So each man wandered alone.
During the following days searching aircraft scoured the desert and
a Bombay, captained by Flying Officer Allcock, first sighted the crashed
Blenheim on the third evening. ‘We looked for a spot to land,’ he
says, ‘for in the Depression, the light colour is drift sands and you
can only come down on the brown. We found no survivors by the
Blenheim but a mile away there was a parachute; the cords were cut.’
On the sixth day Sergeant Fearn was found. He had covered about
thirty miles of desert and had lived by ripping open his Mae West and
filling it with rain–water. Badly bitten by mosquitoes, he received
attention under the Bombay's wing before being flown to base. Allcock
goes on: ‘In the afternoon I went out again and found the second
member of the crew, the wireless-operator Sergeant McConnell.
Sergeant J. N. McConnell; born Gisborne, 5 Jan 1921; civil servant; joined RNZAF22 Dec 1940; killed on air operations 15 Jun 1942.
When
I saw him he was crawling too weak to stand. His chest was shrivelled.
We doused him under the wing of our aircraft and the water disappeared on his skin like drips on a hot stove. He was also allowed a
little water by mouth and some gentle feeding. The doctors said that
he would have died the next day.’ The search for Mackenzie continued.
Motor–cyclists were carried to the scene inside the Bombay and for
three days they rode in ever widening circles from the crashed aircraft
but he was never found.
New Zealand fighter pilots operated over all the battle areas. In
Greece Squadron Leader Shannon led his squadron of Blenheim fighters; they had notable success against the Italians in the early stages but
later suffered severely at the hands of German fighters. Flying Officer
Blackmore was one of his pilots. Also prominent in the air fighting
over Greece was Pilot Officer Westenra,
Squadron Leader D. F. Westenra, DFC and bar, m.i.d.; born Christchurch, 29 Apr
1918; farmer; joined RNZAF16 Feb 1940; transferred RAF11 Nov 1940; retransferred
RNZAF1 Jan 1944; commanded No. 93 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943–44, and No. 65
Sqdn, 1944.
who flew Gladiators and
was one of the few pilots from his squadron who survived to cover
the evacuation. He then operated from Crete, where he shot down a
Messerschmitt 110 in the early stages of the German attack.
In the Western Desert Flying Officer Spence
Flying Officer D. J. Spence; born Christchurch, 26 Aug 1920; insurance company
employee; joined RAF12 Jun 1939; killed on air operations, 30 Apr 1941.
distinguished himself
in fighter operations with No. 274 Hurricane Squadron. On one sortie
during the retreat from Benghazi he shot down a Ju88 and an Me109
near Tobruk; two days later he sent another Me109 crashing into the
desert, but during the combat he collided with the enemy fighter and
was only just able to get his Hurricane back to the British lines. Like
many others his luck failed a few weeks later when he was shot down
while making a low-level attack on enemy columns between Gazala
and Sollum.
Three New Zealand Hurricane pilots, Flying Officers Eiby
Flight Lieutenant W. T. Eiby; born Christchurch, 23 Nov 1914; clerk; joined RNZAF20 Nov 1939.
and
Lamb
Pilot Officer O. E. Lamb; born Auckland, 10 May 1917; joined RAFAug 1939; killed
on air operations, 14 Apr 1941.
and Sergeant Laing,
Flight Lieutenant R. I. Laing, DFC; born Wynyard, Tasmania, 11 Mar 1913; bank
clerk; joined RNZAF20 Nov 1939.
flew and fought through the early desert
campaigns with No. 73 Squadron, already famous for its victories in
the skies over Britain. These pilots and their comrades in No. 3
Australian Squadron did particularly fine work during the retreat from
Benghazi. On 5 April when they combined to cover 2 Armoured Division moving back to Mechili, they claimed fourteen enemy machines
destroyed for the loss of only two Hurricanes. Subsequently No. 73
Squadron remained to operate from within the perimeter defences of
Tobruk, where its pilots worked hard to protect the beleaguered garrison and the ships bringing supplies. During 14 April, when more
than ninety German fighters and bombers attacked the port, the
squadron flew thirty-four sorties and claimed nine of the enemy along
with a further two ‘probables’. Lamb was one of three pilots lost that
day.
Sergeant Laing had two remarkable escapes. In mid-May his was
the only one of six Hurricanes to reach Crete–two were shot down on
the way by British warships and the others lost contact with the guiding
Blenheim. Then before Laing could take off again his fighter was
destroyed on the ground by German bombers. But he got back from
Crete—squeezed into the cockpit of another Hurricane with its pilot
using him as a cushion! A day or two later he was strafing a German
landing ground in the desert and had set fire to two aircraft when,
as he puts it, ‘a couple of Breda gun shells hit my radiator.’ Fumes
poured into the cockpit and two Me109s were hot on his tail. One
scored hits, the elevator controls started to ‘misbehave’ and the Hurrican began to lose height. Laing was skimming along the top of the
cliffs trying to shake off the Germans when he saw the outer defences
of Tobruk. But just as safety seemed within reach his Hurricane flattened out into a wadi and burst into flames, which were licking round
his legs before he could clamber out. Thinking he was still in enemy
territory he dragged himself to a cave, where he lay exhausted for
several hours. But his luck held, for a party of British troops out on
patrol found him and took him into Tobruk.
Flying Officer Tracey,
Flight Lieutenant O. V. Tracey, DFC; born Dunedin, 15 Mar 1915; storehand; joined
RAF8 Aug 1939; killed on air operations, 8 Dec 1941.
who had been with No. 79 Squadron during
the Battle of Britain, flew long-range Hurricanes in fighter sweeps over
Crete. On one occasion he had just shot down a Ju52 over Maleme
when a Messerschmitt fastened on to his tail. Tracey dived towards the
steep cliffs on the coast then pulled clear at the last moment, whereupon the German, over keen on the pursuit, crashed straight into the
rocks below. Tracey's propeller had been damaged, his fuel tank holed
and the fuselage ripped by cannon shells, but he succeeded in flying
back the two hundred miles across the sea to Sidi Barrani, where he
made a forced landing after a sortie of four and a half hours. ‘Quite a
good effort’, says the squadron record with masterly understatement.
Tracey was also among the fighter pilots to cover the evacuation from
Crete, and on one occasion when German bombers were attacking
ships he intercepted a Ju88 and shot it down into the sea.
New Zealanders also did good work during the brief campaigns in
Iraq and Syria. Flight Lieutenant Murdoch was one of the flying instructors at Habbaniya who flew with the Oxford trainers and ancient
Gordons and Audaxes which did so much to quell the initial ardour of
the rebels. Flight Sergeant Lewis
Pilot Officer R. D. Lewis, DFM; born Salisbury, England, 22 Jul 1916; joined RAFAug 1939; killed as result accidental mine explosion, 22 Jun 1942.
was bomb-aimer in one of four
Blenheims which operated from Habbaniya; in just over three weeks
he flew no fewer than twenty-four missions which included fighter
patrols, reconnaissance, strafing and bombing attacks on enemy airfields. Flying Officers Anstey
Flight Lieutenant W. I. Anstey, DFC; born Timaru, 22 Mar 1919; farmer; joined
RNZAFNov 1938; transferred RAFAug 1939; retransferred RNZAFAug 1944.
and McArthur
Flight Lieutenant D. H. McArthur, DFC; born Warkworth, 15 Jul 1920; farmer;
joined RAF17 Jan 1940; killed on air operations, 4 May 1942.
were among the
Wellington bomber pilots who operated from the RAF base at Shaibah
against the Iraqi rebels. During one low-level attack on enemy artillery
and motor vehicles, Anstey's Wellington was hit by anti-aircraft fire
and he had to force-land at Habbaniya and then see his aircraft destroyed by the enemy artillery. McArthur made several effective attacks
on concentrations of vehicles and on one sortie scored a direct hit
on a group of tanks.
In Syria Flight Lieutenant Murdoch and Sergeant Jordan
Flight Lieutenant L. P. Jordan; born Blenheim, 31 May 1920; clerk and salesman;
joined RNZAF 30 Feb 1940.
flew
Gladiator fighters in support of 10 Indian Division and on offensive
patrols against Vichy fighters. Flying Officer C. W. Holdsworth, who
had done outstanding work in the Western Desert and Greece on
Lysanders, now flew Hurricanes from Aqir in Palestine; he failed to
return from a reconnaissance of the Damascus area in mid-June.
Pilot Officer Peterson
Flying Officer K. S. Peterson, DFC; born Auckland, 28 Dec 1913; insurance clerk;
joined RNZAF13 Feb 1940; death presumed 5 Sep 1941.
won distinction for his work as bomb-aimer
with Wellingtons of No. 37 Squadron operating from Shallufa in
Egypt. In one attack on a fuel depot at Beirut he scored direct hits on
several storage tanks, causing numerous fires and explosions. Pilot
Officer Bourke
Pilot Officer L. P. Bourke; born Palmerston North, 16 May 1910; teacher; joined
RNZAFJul 1940; killed on air operations Nov 1941.
and Sergeant G. F. Jones,
Flight Lieutenant G. F. Jones; born Invercargill, 1 Mar 1912; clerk; joined RNZAF2 Jul 1940.
who had previously flown
on operations over Crete, also navigated Blenheim bombers on daylight raids over Syria. On one raid against an ammunition dump at
Hammana they both survived a determined attack by French fighters
in which three bombers were lost before the escort of Australian Tomahawks was able to engage the enemy and drive them off.
The record of these early months would be incomplete without
reference to the men of the ‘flying-boat union’—the crews of the few
Sunderland flying-boats based at Alexandria, who flew constantly on
reconnaissance, escort and anti-submarine patrols, and who also did
splendid work on transport missions and in evacuating men from
Greece and Crete.
Five New Zealanders—Flight Lieutenants A. Frame,
Wing Commander A. Frame, DFC; born Oamaru, 6 Sep 1916; joined RAFMar 1938;
transferred RNZAFJan 1944; commanded No. 204 Sqdn, West Africa, 1944–45.
H. L. M.
Glover,
Squadron Leader H. L. M. Glover; born Dunedin, 2 Feb 1907; served RAF 1930–37;
recalled RAFNov 1940; released for duty BOAC 1942; appointed Senior Captain
BOAC 1943.
S. W. R. Hughes, H. W. Lamond
Squadron Leader H. W. Lamond, DFC (Gk); born Kaukapakapa, 26 Aug 1915; joined
RNZAF4 Jan 1938; transferred RAF15 Mar 1939; prisoner of war, Apr 1941.
and D. N. Milligan—
captained Sunderlands in these various duties. Successes against enemy
submarines were rare, although Milligan was credited with damaging
one of them while making a sweep to cover a Fleet movement from
Alexandria. The transport work was more interesting and eventful.
For example, early in April Frame carried General Wavell and Air
Chief Marshal Longmore from Egypt to Greece. For the return flight
three days later, he had to take off from a harbour which had been
mined by enemy bombers, but he solved the difficulty by taxi-ing up
a strip of water and then taking off down the same path.
Frame evacuated more than two hundred men from Greece. On one
flight he arrived at Nauplia Bay at dusk, had great difficulty in locating
his passengers, and when dawn came found the bay enveloped in dense
black smoke from burning ships. Undaunted, he took off through the
swirling clouds of smoke and landed his passengers safely at Suda Bay
in Crete.
Lamond made several similar trips. In a truly remarkable flight on
25 April he brought away no fewer than seventy-four men in one lift,
which with the crew of ten as well was, as he remarks, ‘quite a number
even for those days’. That same evening when he returned after dark
the sea proved too calm for the aircraft's landing light to be effective
and the Sunderland crashed and turned over. Only Lamond and three
of his crew survived and they drifted about on the upturned wing of
their aircraft for several hours before they were picked up. Lamond
stayed with the two seriously injured members of his crew and was
captured when the Germans overran the area.
* * * * *
The first year of war in the Middle East had been an exacting time
in which the RAF had somehow contrived to make a limited force of
aircraft face in all directions. In the early stages the British squadrons
had achieved astonishing success against fantastic odds, sweeping an
immeasurably stronger enemy out of the sky over three vast provinces
in Libya, Eritrea and Abyssinia; and when war came to Greece they
had done all that was possible. If their resources were insufficient to
deny Greece and Cyrenaica to the Luftwaffe's simultaneous attacks,
they were not to blame. Much had happened that could not be foreseen
and the balance was not wholly unfavourable to British arms. Cyrenaica, Greece and Crete had been lost; but Egypt and Iraq had been
saved, while Syria and almost the whole of East Africa had passed into
our hands; Malta valiantly continued to resist all the assaults of the
enemy. And now as substantial British reinforcements, new weapons
and fresh supplies began pouring into Egypt, the stag was set for the
next round in the struggle for control of the Mediterranean and the
Middle East.
CHAPTER 3Western Desert—The Second Year
WESTWARDS from the startling greenness of the irrigated strip
on either side of the River Nile runs a vast desert of varying
character, inhabited only by nomad Arabs living in tattered tents and
herding camels beside the waterholes upon which their lives depend.
To the south-east this desert runs down to the Sudan; to the south-west it joins the Sahara. Here and there along its northern coast are
pockets of cultivation out of which the Italians wrought their Empire,
settling colonists in well-designed community buildings around which
were scattered the farms. The largest of these pockets, called the Gebel
Akhdar, lies in the hump of land to the east of Benghazi, considerable
enough to support half a dozen towns, settlements of the Italian
colonists and one city. Such fertile country is not reached again until
the oasis of Tripoli. Of this great desert—those parts that lie within
the borders of Egypt and Libya are almost equal in area to India—it
is the comparatively narrow coastal strip running from Alexandria in
the east to Tripoli in the west that has come to be known as the
‘Western Desert’, and it was back and forth across its barren spaces
that the main fighting in the Middle East now ebbed and flowed for
two long years.
June 1941 found the RAF back at the old bases in Egypt from which
it had started six months earlier; for Rommel's first offensive from the
west had sent its squadrons scrambling back with the remnants of
Wavell's Army of the Nile. But their situation in that region was less
comfortable than it had been when they confronted the Italians, since
a German army was now encamped on the stony plateau round
Capuzzo; moreover the Luftwaffe was established in some strength at
forward airfields in Cyrenaica and in the Dodecanese Islands, from
where it could strike at RAF bases in Egypt, at the Suez Canal and the
crowded cities of the Delta. To prevent such attack RAF bombers now
made German fuel dumps and supplies their main objective and a
welcome interlude of inactivity by hostile aircraft seemed to indicate
success. Meanwhile fighters strafed the German airfields; they also made
life uneasy for the enemy on the roads, systematically raking his thin-skinned vehicles until Rommel was driven to post isolated tanks, like
anchored flakships, at five-mile intervals along the way.
Tobruk still held, a lonely island of resistance deep in enemy territory, and fighter patrols covered the small ships which crept along the
coast to supply the garrison. An unsuccessful attempt had been made
to relieve the port in mid-May. The following month a more elaborate
attempt, adorned with the name of Operation BATTLEAXE, proceeded
smoothly in its early stages. During this second attempt the RAF was
required to provide the advancing land forces with an ‘umbrella’
against air attack. For army commanders, after their experience in
Greece and Crete, had developed a strong preference for the reassuring
sight of friendly aircraft overhead and the exercise of air power out
of sight, though often infinitely more effective, tended to be out of
mind for the troops below. The RAF complied with the requirements
and its fighter force was duly concentrated on this defensive task to
the detriment of more rewarding operations. Fortunately the bombers
were still free to take the offensive and their attacks on the enemy's
advancing columns and against his supply lines were most successful.
And when, on 17 June, Rommel thrust an armoured force straight
through towards Buqbuq, the bombers intervened effectively in support of our forward troops. These were able to withdraw in good
order and General Wavell records that ‘the enemy tanks which were
heavily attacked by bombers of the R.A.F. made only half-hearted
attempts to close with our forces.’ After three days of confused fighting
Operation BATTLEAXE ended where it began.
For each of the opposing armies, the British now under Auchinleck
and the Germans and Italians under Rommel and Bastico, the immediate problem was the same—to reinforce and re-equip before a major
attack could be launched. And here the governing factor was communications. On the British side the fact that the Luftwaffe now held
virtual control of the Mediterranean meant that troops and supplies
could reach Egypt only by the long sea journey round the Cape. The
enemy also had their difficulties for their main base at Tripoli was
1000 miles away while Benghazi was 375 miles back along the same
road; and both these ports were a further 400 miles from the mainland
of Italy, across a passage exposed to attack from British aircraft and
submarines based on Malta. Consequently the build-up on both sides
proceeded slowly and there was a lull of nearly five months in the land
fighting while they strove to overcome their supply problems and
renew their strength for the next round.
But if there was a close season for fighting on the ground there was
none overhead. The war in the air went on all the time—a fact it is as
well to emphasise. Day after day RAF bomber crews left their bases
in Egypt and, after a halt to refuel in the desert, went on to attack
enemy shipping and supply dumps at Benghazi. Fighter pilots flew
continually on a variety of patrols; they covered the forward troops
and reconnoitred far behind the enemy lines; they guarded the skies
of Egypt and escorted ships in the approaches to Alexandria and the
Suez Canal. They also continued to play a vital part in sustaining the
garrison at Tobruk by escorting supply ships to the limit of their range
as far as Bardia. In so doing they depended upon forward landing
grounds precariously held by light forces in advance of the main
British Army, and the few fighters that could be maintained on patrol
at any one time were in constant danger of attack by German squadrons
operating from nearby desert bases in overwhelming strength; nevertheless the patrols continued and every ship that made the battered
harbour of Tobruk owed much to the vigilance of the RAF. Simultaneously Blenheims, Sunderlands and Wellingtons were daily on patrol
searching for enemy submarines over the eastern Mediterranean and
in the heat of the Red Sea and Persian Gulf; and week by week ferry
pilots continued to bring convoys of reinforcement aircraft across the
jungle from West Africa.
While these various operations continued the RAF was steadily
building up its strength. New and faster types of aircraft were reaching
the operational squadrons: Tomahawk fighters to replace the veteran
but now obsolete Gladiators; Maryland light bombers in exchange
for the Blenheim. New airfields and landing grounds were also under
construction in the Western Desert; more operational training units
were being set up in the back areas and others expanded. Equally important, the whole system for supply, maintenance and repair was
being thoroughly reorganised, enlarged and dispersed against enemy
air attack. For example, in the Mokattam Hills on the east bank of the
Nile, the great artificial caves from which in ancient days the stone
had been taken to build the pyramids were cleared and equipped as
stores and repair depots; and the inhabitants of the Boulac native
quarter of Cairo were mystified by a sudden influx of RAF technicians
as workshops were set up in old warehouses and in disused yards or
buildings. A special unit was established for transporting crashed aircraft from the front for reconstruction at these depots; and up in the
forward area there appeared new salvage sections which, equipped with
mobile cranes and special trucks, ranged the desert to bring back
damaged aircraft, and mobile repair units capable of making minor
repairs on the spot or else of patching up aircraft sufficiently to enable
them to be flown back for more extensive treatment.
Important changes were also made in the sphere of operations for
it had become clear during the earlier campaigns that, in spite of the
most valiant efforts on the part of aircrew and commanders alike,
the operational efficiency of the front-line squadrons was not all that
it might be; in particular the organisation on a ‘station’ basis, brought
out from Britain, had proved unwieldy when it had been necessary to
move units over long distances or push forward flights and squadrons
to operate from advanced landing grounds. This was largely because
transport, equipment and personnel for carrying out swift movement
were lacking. Steps were therefore taken to create self-contained fighter
and light-bomber wings each with its own vehicles, its own operational
headquarters and its own servicing team, all of which could be moved
rapidly from one area to another. At the same time mobile radar posts
and air-support controls were established in the forward area, the latter
an important innovation by which it was hoped to provide closer and
more immediate help to the ground forces. In all these various ways,
the RAF gradually began to create its ‘Desert Air Force’, capable of
highly mobile operations in the wilderness of sand and stone but
firmly based on a well-organised, safely dispersed system of supply
and maintenance.
Much of the success of this reorganisation and indeed most of its
inspiration came from Air Marshal,
Marshal of the Royal Air Force Lord Tedder, GCB, Legion of Merit (US), Legion of
Honour (Fr), Order of Kutusov (USSR), Distinguished Service Medal (US), Order of
the Crown with Palm (Bel), Order of George I (Gk), Croix de Guerre with Palm (Fr),
Order of Orange Nassau (Hol); born Glenguin, Stirlingshire, 11 Jul 1890; served
Colonial Service, Fiji, 1914; joined RFC 1916; permanent commission RAF1919;
Deputy Air Member, Development and Production, 1940; Deputy AOC-in-C, HQ
Middle East, 1940–41; AOC-in-C, HQ Middle East, 1941–43; Air C-in-C, Deputy to
General Eisenhower, 1944; Deputy Supreme Allied Commander, SHAEF Main (Air)
1944–45; CAS RAF, 1946–49; Chairman, Joint British Services Mission, Washington,
and British representative on Standing Group Military Committee, NATO, 1950–51.
who had taken
over from Longmore in May 1941. Tedder, a graduate of Magdalene
College, Cambridge, and a fighter pilot of the First World War thrice
mentioned in despatches, had come to the Middle East with a broad
background in both operations and staff work. Here he was presented
with a unique opportunity for defining, developing and organising
the role that the air arm should play in the Mediterranean war. That
opportunity he firmly grasped and he soon became pre-eminent as a
strategist and in the framing of policy. He was also able to inspire the
willing service of officers and airmen from the highest to the lowest
and by skilful leadership weld them into a highly successful team.
Apart from his undoubted military gifts, Tedder possessed a cheerful
personality of which pleasant features were his addiction to a pipe of
longish stem and to the ‘forage’ or field service cap—better known to
the irreverent as the ‘fore-and-after’. He also had the happy knack of
meeting his men on their own level, and many of those who served
with the Desert Air Force can recall pleasant moments on desert airfields when their leader dropped in for a chat to see how things were
going.
But the early months of Tedder's period of command were far from
easy. Apart from the difficulties of reorganisation, he had to meet sharp
criticism of the RAF from all sides and a renewal of the old cry for
separate military and naval air components. With memories of Greece
and Crete still rankling, many of the critics felt that the main function
of the RAF should be to provide them with a constant impenetrable
‘umbrella’ overhead. They failed to realise that the only sure defence
against enemy air attack was to win command of the air, and that this
could best be done by offensive sweeps and attacks on airfields often
far beyond the scene of the ground fighting.
The main controversy centred round the extent and control of air
support for the Army. And after various conferences had failed to
settle the matter, Churchill gave his ruling in a strongly worded directive. The RAF had its own dominant strategic role to play and must not,
he said, ‘be frittered away in providing small umbrellas for the Army
as it seemed to have been in the recent battle.’ It was unsound to
distribute aircraft in this way and no air force could stand the application of such ‘a mischievous practice’. On the other hand the RAF had
its obligations to the Army and, Churchill declared, ‘when a land
battle is in prospect the Army Commander-in-Chief is to specify to
the Air Officer Commander-in-Chief the targets and tasks he requires
to be performed both in the preparatory attack and during the battle.
It would be for the Air Officer Commanding to use his maximum force
for these objectives in the manner most effective.’ These decisions were
of the utmost importance for they recognised and defined the role of
the RAF and prevented any attempt to follow the German pattern of
complete subordination to the Army. It was now up to all parties to
realise each other's problems and to work out a satisfactory system
of team work. How well they achieved this, the following years were
to demonstrate.
New Zealand participation in the various activities of Middle East
Air Command was now increasing steadily as pilots, navigators, air
gunners, wireless operators and some technicians arrived from the
training schools in New Zealand, Canada and the United Kingdom. A
small number of pilots and aircrew also came from operational commands in Britain, bringing with them the experience gained in fighter
battles over England or in bombing raids over Germany. By the end
of this second year of the campaign the New Zealand contingent with
the RAF in the Middle East amounted to nearly 300 men, of whom the
majority were pilots—no small contribution at a time when RAFMiddle East was still comparatively small.
Among the new arrivals the outstanding personality was Air Vice-Marshal Arthur Coningham, who took over command of the Desert
Air Force from Collishaw at the end of July 1941. Coningham, whose
remarkable early career has already been recorded,
New Zealanders with the Royal Air Force, Vol. I, p. 10.
was to achieve
outstanding success in this new role; indeed, it was not long before he
outshone every other contemporary commander of tactical air forces
in his ability to foresee, prepare for and meet situations and, above all,
to give the ground forces the close air support they needed. His was
a richly vital personality in which rare powers of leadership and a
profound knowledge of air tactics were combined with an immense
store of common humanity and friendliness, for he firmly believed
that even in a war of machines the ultimate outcome depended on men.
He had an alert mind but disliked paper work and insisted on stripping
his Battle Headquarters to the barest minimum of essential operational
staff; he was withal a shrewd planner with a strong desire for co-operation with the Army, and one of his first actions on appointment
was to move his Desert Headquarters to Maaten Baggush alongside
that of the Eighth Army. Thereafter when the Army headquarters
moved the Air headquarters moved with it. And it was from that small
advanced Desert Air Force headquarters working in close contact and
mutual confidence with the Army that there originated most of the
innovations in tactics and organisation of an air force in the field which
were subsequently adopted by the Royal Air Force and United StatesArmy Air Force.
At his new headquarters, Coningham was joined by Group Captain
H.B. Russell as Senior Air Staff Officer. Russell, also a veteran New
Zealand pilot of the First World War, was a specialist in fighter operations who had already served both in France and with Fighter Command in the Battle of Britain; he was to be twice mentioned in
despatches for his work with the RAF in the Middle East during the
next two years. One of Coningham's chief signals officers was Squadron
Leader R. C. Richmond; he had been with the Desert Air Force from
the outset and his ability and experience proved invaluable in this
difficult period; Richmond later did good work in improving communications on the Takoradi ferry route.
An experienced fighter leader who came to the Middle East at this
time was Wing Commander Eric Whitley,
Group Captain E. W. Whitley, DSO, DFC; RAF (retd); born Epsom, Auckland,
17 Aug 1908; joined RAF1930; commanded No. 245 Sqdn 1939–40; RAF Station,
Haifa, 1941; No. 234 Wing, Middle East, 1942; No. 209 and 210 Groups, Middle East,
1943; Fighter Leaders' School, 1944; No. 58 OTU 1945; RAF Station, Church Fenton,
1945.
who had commanded a
squadron of Hurricanes both before and during the Battle of Britain.
For his first few months in the Middle East Whitley was entrusted
with planning the air defence of Cyprus and the Syrian coast; he then
took command of a fighter wing based in Egypt and was later to
prove highly successful as leader of a diversionary force which operated
deep in the desert on the enemy's flank.
Three young New Zealand fighter pilots, Squadron Leaders Ward,
Squadron Leader D. H. Ward, DFC and bar; born Whangarei, 31 Jul 1917; joined
RAF31 May 1938; commanded No. 73 Sqdn, Middle East, 1941–42; killed on air
operations, 17 Jun 1942.
Kain
Wing Commander D. Kain; born Wanganui, 16 Oct 1915; joined RAF21 Oct 1935;
transferred RNZAF21 Oct 1944; commanded No. 229 Sqdn, Middle East and Malta,
1942; No. 127 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943; RAF Station, Edcu, 1943–44; and RAF Station,
Predannack, 1944–45.
and Bary,
Wing Commander R. E. Bary, DSO, DFC; born New Plymouth, 9 Jun 1915; joined
RAFJan 1939; commanded No. 80 Sqdn1943; Wing Leader, No. 239 Wing, MAAF,
1943–44; No. 244 Wing MAAF, 1944–45; killed on air operations, 12 Apr 1945.
each of whom had taken part in the air battles over
France, Dunkirk and Britain, were now to command squadrons in the
Desert Air Force. Ward took charge of the famous No. 73 Hurricane
Squadron and within a matter of months had won both the Distinguished Flying Cross and bar. Kain, who had already led fighters
in Britain, was to command No. 229 Squadron, also flying Hurricanes.
Bary was to lead one of the first units equipped with Tomahawk
fighters; he had previously flown Hurricane fighters over Crete and
the Western Desert.
Men newly arrived in the Western Desert found conditions rather
different from those they had enjoyed in their training schools or with
the operational commands in Britain. For Desert Air Force now lived
a more nomadic life, something like that of the bedouin who inhabited
these parts. There were no tarmac runways, no hangars, no neat headquarters buildings or barracks, no control tower and no concreted
petrol stores. The usual desert airfield was nothing but a large space of
desert scraped smooth and hard, around the edges of which were
scattered a few tents and trucks, the aircraft and the protecting RAF
armoured cars. Large square marquees housed the various messes,
the operations control and the orderly room. Around them were dispersed ridge tents and little bivouacs as sleeping quarters, each with
its V-shaped slit trench handy as an air-raid shelter. The rest of the
‘outfit’ stood on wheels; the office of the Commanding Officer was a
caravan trailer; signals, that life-blood of the whole force, operated
from a few specially fitted vehicles beneath portable aerial masts; workshops of the engineers were fitted into lorries; the cookhouse itself
was often a trailer with a field kitchen dumped outside. The whole
camp, tents and all, could be bundled into trucks and be on its way
within an hour.
Men dressed to suit these conditions and the blue uniform of the
RAF was rarely seen. In summer everyone wore khaki shorts, shirt and
an RAF cap; in winter the uniform was khaki battle dress, augmented
by every sweater and jersey on which the wearer could lay his hands,
so cold were the nights. In summer it was extremely hot and flies
plagued everyone by day, but the cool of the evening was perfect, the
nights silent and splendid under the brightest dome of stars and a big,
round, almost ‘day-bright’ moon, which, however, lost a little of its
fascination for it was usually as it waxed full that the landing grounds
were bombed by the enemy. In winter the days were usually bright
but the nights bitter, and sometimes there were torrential rains which
bogged down aircraft and turned every rutted track into a morass
through which truck drivers floundered and cursed.
The chief torment of the desert was of course the dust-storms. They
came more frequently with the khamsin of the spring, a hot wind from
the south with the strength to rip down a tent. Their density was that
of a London fog, in which every particle was grit. Under the pall of a
desert dust-storm the whole area darkened into half-night; a man
driving a car could not see its bonnet and two men sitting in a creaking
straining tent could barely discern each other across its width. While
the dust-storm lasted unabated, bringing gritty misery, all flying was
impossible.
But desert life had its compensations; for one thing, it was extremely
healthy and with the exception of desert sores—small cuts festered for
months when sand filtered into them—there was almost no sickness.
Life was simple and the hours of sleep were long. The food might be
only bully beef for weeks on end, though usually there was something
else as well, but it sufficed. There was nearly always enough water for
a cup of tea and even for a bath when one had learnt to bathe with a
tin drinking mug. There were also the pleasures of contrast; and to
arrive at the palm trees of the coastal wadi of Maaten Baggush after
bumping all day over dust and hillock and there to strip and swim in
the warm blue sea was a pleasure that had few comparisons.
Aircrew would consider it sentimental to speak of the comradeship
of their desert camps, but in every squadron this was most marked.
There were few who returned from the desert without some memory of
a circle of men squatting outside the tent under the moon, one perhaps
playing a violin or a mouth organ and the rest singing ‘There was a
Monk of Great Renown’, ‘She'll be Coming Round the Mountain’ or
‘Shaibah Blues’, all with that mixture of sentiment and ribaldry which
made up the folk music of the Air Force.
But many men came to know more than the desert encampments or
even the vast expanse of brown wilderness moving constantly beneath
their wings. Deserts have always been associated with one particular
peril, that of being stranded in their midst without sufficient food or
water; and it was a peril to which pilots and aircrews were especially
exposed. Flying a damaged aircraft over inhabited country the pilot
could make a crash landing or bale out, always with every hope of
help even should he fall into enemy hands. But over the desert, even
fifty miles from the coast, there was scant hope unless a man was sufficiently lucky to fall in with wandering Arab tribesmen. Yet, remarkable
of the desert air war is not how many airmen lost their lives
through landing many miles from help, but rather how many of them
contrived to walk back to their squadrons, often piercing the enemy
lines in order to do so.
One day towards the end of November 1941, six Blenheims left
Fuka to bomb enemy tanks and transport on the Acroma– El Adem
road. In that area they were attacked by a formation of Messerschmitts
and four of the Blenheims were shot down. Navigator in one of them
was twenty-year-old Sergeant Turton.
Flying Officer R. A. Turton; born Kakahi, 22 Dec 1920; cinema operator; joined
RNZAF12 Mar 1940; killed on air operations 3 Nov 1943.
Baling out of the burning aircraft, he landed safely to find that his pilot and air gunner had also
survived but were both wounded and unable to walk far. While they
were debating what to do some friendly natives came along and took
charge of the wounded men, saying they would get them medical attention from the Germans in Acroma. Thereupon Turton, who was unharmed, decided that he would not be captured and set out to travel
about one hundred miles on foot to the British lines. Fortunately he
had a small pocket compass which enabled him to go steadily south-east. Every night he passed enemy encampments at frequent intervals
but he skirted them and kept on. After three days he was suffering so
severely from thirst that he was forced to live on snails. Eventually he
was found by a South African medical officer. His journey across
enemy territory, hiding by day and walking by night, had taken him
six days, and during the whole of that time he was without food and
water.
Gallant efforts like this led to the formation of a ‘Late Arrivals Club’,
with its emblem, a tiny silver boot with wings, worn by those who
had walked back ‘out of the blue’ after they had been obliged to abandon aircraft on the ground or in the air. And as the fighting ranged
backwards and forwards over the desert, tales of getting back, sometimes through the enemy lines, became more plentiful. Usually they
followed the same pattern: the airmen, individually or in a small group,
struggling on through dust and heat towards the welcome of a friendly
camp; perhaps a meeting with wandering Arabs who, traditionally
hospitable to the stranger, helped British and German impartially; or
else an encounter with the enemy, leading to capture or possibly a
lucky escape; and finally the eventual return to the unit, footsore and
exhausted, with sprouting beard and modest denials of any personal
heroism. Yet the gallantry of those who managed to make their way
back did much to hearten others who foresaw a similar fate in store
for themselves; after all, one could never know whose turn it might
be next. And in the months that followed many an airman was to have
cause for gratitude to the Army for its rescue efforts—particularly to
the men of the Long Range Desert Group.
* * * * *
Throughout the summer of 1941, while the two armies lay watching
one another through the dusty glare along the line of the Egyptian
frontier, air patrol and attack continued. For British fighter pilots the
main task was still to cover the passage of ships to and from Tobruk,
which placed a heavy strain on both men and machines; and this was
now rendered more acute by the insistence of the Australian Government that their battle-worn troops should be withdrawn from Tobruk.
The withdrawal took place during the months of August, September
and October under cover of constant fighter patrols.
The provision of cover both for the supply of Tobruk and for naval
movements inevitably restricted offensive operations, but whenever
possible fighters were sent on armed reconnaissance over airfields,
camps and roads behind the enemy front. Such sorties were welcomed
by pilots as a relief from the monotonous shipping patrols. Flying
Officer O. V. Tracey of No. 274 Hurricane Squadron, Flying Officer
D. F. Westenra of No. 112 Tomahawk Squadron, and Flying Officer
W. T. Eiby with Sergeants R. I. Laing and E. L. Joyce
Squadron Leader E. L. Joyce, DFM; born Hamilton, 17 Feb 1920; salesman; joined
RNZAF11 Mar 1940; commanded No. 73 Sqdn, Italy, 1943, and No. 122 Sqdn, 1944;
killed on air operations, 18 Jun 1944.
of No. 73
Squadron, also flying Hurricanes, were among the pilots who took a
prominent part in these missions.
Simultaneously the medium bombers were active both by day and
by night against the enemy's supply lines, especially his nearer ports
and coastal shipping. Airfields were also attacked—notably the day
fighter bases at Gazala and Gambut, from which the Germans were
operating their new and fast Messerschmitt 109F fighters. Squadron
Leader H.G.P. Blackmore led No. 55 Blenheim Squadron on many
such missions and flying with him were several New Zealand pilots
and navigators. By day crews could usually count on a brush with the
enemy but their machines were no match for the German fighters. It
was during one such encounter towards the end of October that Blackmore was lost when his formation was intercepted while turning away
after a successful attack on the airfield at Gambut.
More distant targets on the German supply lines were attacked by
Wellington bombers, a small force of which, amounting to five squadrons, had now been built up in Egypt. New Zealand representation
among these squadrons was relatively high. Indeed, in the twelve
months from May 1941, just under one hundred Dominion airmen
flew with the Wellingtons of No. 205 Group, as it was known; and
more than half of them were captains of aircraft.
Sometimes the bombers struck northwards over the Mediterranean
at targets in Greece and Crete, notably at the Corinth Canal, which
provided a short cut for enemy supply ships on passage from Adriatic
ports to the Aegean. But the chief task given the Wellington crews
was to batter the enemy's North African supply port of Benghazi. They
did this particular raid so often that it became known as the ‘Mail
Run’. It was no easy flight. In distance it was roughly equivalent to
bombing Munich from Norfolk. And while the route was not spattered with guns and searchlights a crew had only to crash-land fifty
miles inland on the desert to be faced with the torments, often mortal,
of thirst and heat. The defences of Benghazi itself were also fierce. Yet
more than all these dangers, the chief menace of the mail run was its
inevitability—night after night, week after week. One of the squadrons
which flew constantly to Benghazi composed a song about it called
‘The Mail Run Melody’, which was sung to the tune ‘Clementine’.
Here are some of the verses:
Down the flights each ruddy morning,Sitting waiting for a clue,Same old notice on the flight board,Maximum effort—Guess where to.
Chorus:
Seventy Squadron, Seventy Squadron,Though we say it with a sigh,We must do the ruddy Mail Run,Every night until we die.Out we go on to dispersal,To complete our Night Flying Test,Rumour says we're going Northwards,But we know we're going West.Take off from the Western DesertFuka, 60 or 09 (Sixty or Oh-nine),Same old Wimpy, same old aircrew,Same old target, same old time.‘Have you lost us Navigator?’‘Come up here and have a look’,‘Someone's shot our starboard wing off’,‘We're alright then, that's Tobruk’.Fifteen Wimpys on the target,Two forced landed in the drink,Another couple crashed on landing,Ruddy Hell, it makes you think.Snooping round the Western Desert,With the gravy running low,How I wish I could see Fuka,Through the dust storm down below.Trying to get your forty raids in,Thirty-nine, now don't get hit,If you don't, you go to Blighty,If you do, (Well, never mind!)Oh, to be in Piccadilly,Selling matches by the score,Then I shouldn't have to do thatRuddy Mail Run any more.
There is probably no better expression of all the hopes and fears of
bomber aircrew than the words of this song; and on the nights when
they were not flying, crews would sit around in their messes with
glasses of thin local beer and sing it with an intensity of feeling that
only desert life could lend to the voice. ‘We must do the ruddy mail
run every night until we die.’ A good many of them did. But the
hazards they took and the fatigue they endured made Benghazi of considerably less value to the enemy as a supply base. A New Zealand
brigadier caught a glimpse of the port when he passed through as a
captive in December 1941. ‘The harbour itself was in a mess,’ he writes.
‘The tide washed through two great gaps in the mole, and alongside
the battered wharves were several wrecked ships, some capsized, some
sitting on the bottom, rendering most of the jetties useless.’
Brigadier J. Hargest in Farewell Campo 12.
In these operations by Wellington bombers Flight Lieutenant
Coleman
Squadron Leader L. W. Coleman, DFC and bar; born Wellington, 10 Dec 1916; joined
RAFJan 1939; killed on air operations, 11 Mar 1942.
and Flying Officer Cowan
Squadron Leader N. L. R. Cowan, DFC; born Hastings, 27 Dec 1919; accountant;
joined RAFJul 1940; transferred RNZAFJul 1945.
of No. 148 Squadron, Flying
Officer D. H. McArthur of No. 37 Squadron and Flying Officer W. I.
Anstey of No. 70 Squadron achieved a fine record of service as captains
of aircraft. Navigator Sergeant Connolly
Sergeant D. A. Connolly; born Christchurch, 14 Jun 1918; auctioneer; joined RNZAFJun 1940; killed on air operations, 21 Jun 1941.
and Air Gunner Sergeants
Callister,
Flying Officer J. K. Callister, DFM; born Dunedin, 9 Jun 1916; grocer; joined RNZAFJun 1940.
Tarrant,
Warrant Officer R. M. Tarrant; born Hamilton, 5 Nov 1915; farm labourer; joined
RNZAF12 Mar 1940; killed in aircraft accident, 9 Jun 1944.
Marusich
Warrant Officer C. A. F. Marusich, DFM; born Huntly, 28 May 1921; civil servant;
joined RNZAF18 Dec 1939.
and Moore
Flight Lieutenant G. E. Moore, DFM; born Curlewis, Aust, 11 Jun 1915; engineer;
joined RNZAF20 Nov 1939.
also did very good work
with their squadrons.
Flight Lieutenant Coleman was the first New Zealander to win a
bar to the Distinguished Flying Cross for operations in the Middle
East. ‘His courage and tenacity were outstanding,’ says the citation.
‘In one night raid his was the only aircraft from the squadron to locate
the target—an enemy landing ground in the desert—and having found
it he made determined attacks with bombs and machine-guns as a
result of which at least two Junkers 52 on the ground were destroyed
and others damaged.’ On landing back at Fuka after this sortie, Coleman
was driving in a lorry from dispersal when a Wellington which was
coming in to land crashed and burst into flames nearby; he immediately
jumped out of the lorry, started up another aircraft nearby and, although bombs and petrol tanks were exploding in all directions, taxied
it safely away from the danger area.
Flying Officer Anstey had completed forty-three bombing missions
by August 1941; in the first fortnight of that month he flew four times
to Benghazi to attack shipping there, made another two trips across
the Mediterranean to the Corinth Canal and a further sortie to the
Corinth Canal in between frequent trips to Benghazi; on one occasion
when an engine failed he got his Wellington back and landed it skilfully behind our lines without injury to his crew.
McArthur, who also completed many bombing raids, had an unenviable experience after attacking Benghazi one night in June 1941.
As he was turning for home flak hit one engine, causing a slow oil
leak; he nursed his machine along fairly well over the sea but suddenly,
when only about thirty miles from Mersa Matruh, the propeller flew
off, tearing through the fuselage and cutting control lines. Forced to
bring his machine down on the sea, he achieved a successful landing in
spite of the darkness and, after a severe buffeting, the crew were able
to take to the dinghy before the Wellington sank; but it was two days
before they were spotted by a seaplane which landed and picked them
up; by that time all were suffering badly from thirst and exhaustion.
Among the air gunners Sergeant Moore's record was typical. Including his early operations over Germany, he had by mid-1941 completed forty-six bombing missions. His ability as a gunner was demonstrated one night in June when three Italian fighters attacked his
Wellington over Benghazi; by accurate fire he drove off the first two
before they could do any damage; the third persisted, however, using
its greater manoeuvreability to good effect, but in the end it too was
fought off and shot down by Moore's determined shooting. An episode in which Sergeant Marusich showed great fortitude occurred in
September: ‘During an attack on Derna airfield,’ says the official
report, ‘he was badly wounded by shellfire and although suffering
severely from pain and loss of blood he made light of his injuries, thus
permitting his comrades to devote their attention to the work in hand.’
By the end of 1941 quite a large group of New Zealand pilots, navigators and air gunners were flying Wellingtons of No. 108 Squadron,
which was formed at Shallufa in September. Flight Lieutenants D. R.
Bagnall and K. F. Vare,
Wing Commander K. F. Vare, AFC; born Wellington, 20 Jan 1913; clerk; joined RAF23 Aug 1937; killed on air operations, 2 Jan 1944.
Flying Officer Anderson
Flight Lieutenant J. R. Anderson, DFC and bar; born Lyttelton, 10 Sep 1916; electrical
fitter; joined RNZAFOct 1939; transferred RAFMay 1940; retransferred RNZAFJul 1944.
and Flight Sergeant Gray
Flying Officer W. H. Gray, DFM; born Wellington, 11 Jun 1916; draughtsman;
joined RNZAFJul 1940.
were especially prominent as captains of aircraft and
Sergeant Curno
Flying Officer L. C. Curno, DFM; born Dunedin, 17 Nov 1911; mechanic; joined
RNZAFJul 1940.
as air gunner. Bagnall was now a veteran of bombing
operations in the Middle East for he had flown Bombays in the first
raids on Tobruk and Benghazi; he had also ferried men and equipment
to Greece and on one such trip had his aircraft destroyed by enemy
fighter attack on the airfield at Heraklion in Crete. Vare had taken a
prominent part in the formation and establishment of his squadron at
Shallufa, no easy task in those days of mobile operations and shortage
of equipment. Subsequently he flew many sorties to Benghazi and in
November 1941 led Wellingtons on the first occasion when two
operations were flown on the same night. Later in mid-January he
made a remarkable ‘proving flight’ in the first Liberator to reach the
Middle East—at the time, aircraft spares were urgently needed by a
squadron recently transferred to South-east Asia and Vare completed
the 12,000-mile return flight from Egypt to Sumatra, stopping only to
refuel at Karachi and at Bangalore.
Anderson had already completed twenty-seven raids with Bomber
Command before he joined 108 Squadron. By May 1942 he had
doubled this total with operations against ports and airfields in the
Middle East. Here is his account of the way things went and of one
particularly ‘shaky do’ as he calls it:
We were based at airfields in the Daba-Fuka area and the usual procedure
was for us to have a preliminary briefing there in the morning, after which
crews would fly their Wellingtons to an advanced landing ground some 200
miles forward in the desert. We were bombed up at base but made this flight
with a small petrol load since it made take-off easier in the heat of the day.
The advanced grounds were merely patches of desert levelled off and were
quite difficult to locate in dust storms—especially L.G. 60 which was some
distance from the coast but much favoured because its surface, being the
bed of a dried lake, was fairly smooth. On arrival at the advanced base, one
member of the crew was left to guard the aircraft and make certain that the
tanks were filled and minor faults rectified. After briefing and a meal there
was time for a short rest if take off was late, but the only resting place available was the aircraft and it was surprising how cold a Wellington could be
out in the desert.
Taxying out for take off in the dark and swirling sand raised by other
machines could be quite harrowing when the flarepath became obscured
and other aircraft and obstructions not clearly definable. With take-off safely
accomplished the flight to the target was usually uneventful, consisting of
one long climb trying to get as much height as possible. Over Benghazi the
flak was concentrated and pretty accurate—gunners and searchlight operators
there had plenty of practice for there was rarely a night when no aircraft
visited them. Bombing raids were seldom made above 12,000 feet as this
was the best a Wellington IC could manage in the thin air even when stripped
of all possible equipment. A typical mail run trip took about seven hours
from the advanced base and on return there crews would be interrogated
and then after a short rest until dawn their aircraft would be refuelled for
the return to base.
We had a rather eventful trip one night towards the end of October while
making our bombing run over Benghazi. We were caught in a searchlight
cone and then hit several times by anti-aircraft fire. The fuselage was badly
holed, hydraulic pipeline severed and the undercarriage fell down and bomb
doors jammed open. The extra drag reduced our speed on the flight back
and when we were about ten miles short of our advanced base one of the
engines cut out owing to lack of petrol so I gave the order to bale out. Just
after they had gone the other engine stopped and the aircraft began to go
down in a glide. There was no time for me to leave the controls and clip on
my parachute so I switched on the landing lamps, did up my straps and
hoped for the best. Fortunately the ground was reasonably level and the
Wellington ploughed along and made a fairly good landing.
This was anti-climax but a very pleasant one after my thoughts during
the last few minutes. A moment later, to my surprise, the wireless operator
and rear gunner popped their heads through the door from the rear cabin
to join me in wiping away the perspiration. They had missed the order to
bale out.
We rested until dawn and then leaving the two of my crew to guard the
aircraft I walked north and found the road four miles away where a passing
lorry gave me a lift to our advanced landing ground where two of the others
had already arrived. We commandeered a truck and soon found both the
aircraft and the other ‘caterpillars’.
The RAF assault against enemy ports and shipping helped our own
forces to win the race to build up strength and supplies. By the middle
of November 1941, Auchinleck was ready to attack. The main purpose
of the new offensive, which was to be known as Operation CRUSADER,
was to recapture Cyrenaica, destroying the enemy's armour in the
process and then, if all went well, to continue the advance towards
Tripoli; at the right moment the Tobruk garrison would make a
violent sortie and join up with the advance. The opening moves were
nicely timed to anticipate an attempt by Rommel to eliminate that
troublesome British strongpoint inside his territory.
Coningham's squadrons of the Desert Air Force—they now included
a formidable array of modern fighters, new and fast Boston light
bombers and some Beaufighters for ground attack—were to play an
important part both before and during CRUSADER. In the preliminary
phase, the chain of bases between the enemy's back areas and his front
lines were sedulously bombed while fighters maintained a high degree
of activity to obstruct observation of our preparations. The extent to
which they succeeded in blinding the enemy may be gauged from the
fact that the subsequent ground attack achieved complete surprise—
Rommel himself was in Rome when it began. Over the last few days
before the land offensive opened, the RAF attack was switched from
the enemy's supplies to his air forces; the landing grounds at Berka,
Benina, Barce, Derna, Gambut, Gazala, Martuba and Tmimi were all
bombed and a good deal of damage was done to repair shops, hangars,
runways and aircraft on the ground. More and more reconnaissance
sorties were made as the hour of attack drew close; sturdy Boston
bombers now making their appearance were temporarily employed on
this role. Another new note was seen in the adaptation of some fighters
to carry bombs, notably the versatile Hurricane, which soon proved
itself highly efficient in the fighter-bomber role.
Early on 18 November, after a night of storm and heavy rain, the
Eighth Army surged forward. Overhead its troops saw a sky full of
friendly aircraft— ‘whole shoals of fighters swept by, glinting like little
silver splinters in the sun and bombers cruised steadily along with
their fighter escorts fooling all around them’—which was indeed a
novel spectacle for the watchers on the desert and so different from
the grim days in Greece, when it had been almost second nature for
them to dive for cover when anything flew overhead. But now the
tables had been turned. This time some of the Luftwaffe's airfields were
waterlogged, while at others facilities had been damaged or destroyed,
so British fighters found few adversaries to fight in the sky and more
aircraft to damage on the ground; a few combats took place over
Martuba and some transport aircraft were shot down near Barce, but
apart from this there was little opposition in the air. Later, as its landing
grounds dried out, the Luftwaffe began to hit back and there were
some spirited engagements. On the morning of the 20th, for example,
two squadrons of Tomahawks (No. 112 RAF and No. 3 Australian)
encountered a formation of Me110s and shot down four of them;
later the same day Hurricanes met a number of Ju87 dive-bombers
escorted by Me109s. They forced the Ju87s to jettison their bombs
and in the mix-up which followed two Messerschmitts and four of the
bombers were shot down for the loss of four British fighters.
Meanwhile on the ground the enemy had, after a hesitant start,
reacted strongly and in violent actions between 19 and 23 November
defeated the British armour and overrun a South African brigade.
Thereupon Rommel, scenting a major victory, set out with his Afrika
Korps and an Italian armoured division to the frontier, but in such
breathless haste that the consternation he caused in an area of vulner-
ablevulnerable dumps and airfields was almost matched by the disorganisation
within his two panzer divisions. Heavy losses were also suffered in
several actions with ground forces and from attacks by Desert Air
Force; indeed, virtually unprotected by their own air force, the enemy
columns soon experienced the pangs our troops had known and endured when it was the Luftwaffe that dominated the skies. After three
days Rommel returned in haste to the Tobruk area, where the New
Zealand Division had meantime pressed forward to join hands with
the garrison there.
A major battle now developed at Sidi Rezegh and Belhamed as
Rommel sought to destroy the New Zealand Division. He inflicted
heavy losses and broke the Tobruk ‘corridor’, but the effort was too
much for his troops and in the face of British reinforcements the
enemy was in full but orderly retreat by 10 December. After a brief
stand at Gazala this withdrawal continued and by Christmas British
troops were in Benghazi once again. But this time the enemy retreat
had not been turned into a rout and the hard core of his forces had
not been destroyed. Somewhere to the east of El Agheila Rommel and
his Afrika Korps were still at large.
The RAF continued to give full support to the land battle. Its
activities left the Germans practically blinded in the air and wrought
great destruction among the unarmoured transport and supply
vehicles operating behind the German front; airfields, ports and dumps
were bombed; and there was constant patrol and attack above the
actual fighting area. Clashes with the Luftwaffe were frequent and at
first the balance of casualties in air combat was fairly even; but after
a few days it swung steadily in favour of the RAF, thanks largely to
the skill and gallantry of its fighter pilots, for their machines were
not equal in performance to the Messerschmitt 109F. There was a
notable action on the last day of November when a Tomahawk wing
intercepted some fifty enemy fighters and bombers that were preparing
to attack the New Zealand Division. Our pilots shot down no fewer
than fifteen of them and damaged ten others for the loss of three; and
the Germans were forced to jettison their bombs instead of dropping
them on our troops. ‘Your fellows have been simply magnificent,’
declared Freyberg. ‘My men are full of admiration and gratitude’;
Auchinleck expressed his appreciation for ‘the magnificent co-operation of the R.A.F.’ which had supplied ‘a constant stream of valuable
information’, while their fighters provided ‘almost complete protection’ and the bombers disorganised the enemy ‘often in answer to calls
from my troops.’
During the pursuit across Cyrenaica Coningham's squadrons kept
up their good work. Constant fighter patrols practically drove the
Luftwaffe from the sky; and although sandstorms and the difficulty of
distinguishing friend from foe reduced the scale of effort against ground
targets, reconnaissance aircraft brought back evidence of ‘considerable
confusion as far back as Benghazi’. Simultaneously Desert Air Force
gave remarkable demonstrations of its new-found mobility. At Gazala
10,000 gallons of petrol arrived while the landing grounds were still
under shellfire and for two hazardous days working parties plied their
trade in advance of the front line; again at Mechili the advanced RAF
party reached the landing ground as the last of the retreating enemy
left in a cloud of dust and by the next day it had 15,000 gallons of fuel
there—one day later four squadrons were operating from the landing
ground and four more were refuelling for operations farther forward.
Another example of the excellent work done by the ground staffs
occurred when a party sent to prepare a landing ground deep in the
desert far ahead of the Army had a runway of 1000 yards cleared as
the first squadron landed, and had four squadrons suitably accommodated on the next day, with more coming in for fuel and a force of
bombers standing by.
A novel and interesting feature of CRUSADER air operations, in which
New Zealand airmen played a leading part, must be recorded here.
This was the attack on Rommel's supply lines south of Benghazi by a
small force of thirty-two Hurricanes and Blenheims sent to operate
from bases in the heart of the Cyrenaican desert. Although almost completely isolated and with its landing grounds under frequent attack by
enemy bombers, this small force accounted for several hundred enemy
vehicles, including some petrol tankers; and it destroyed more than
thirty enemy aircraft in the air and on the ground. Wing Commander
Whitley was in charge of the two squadrons and the few RAF armoured cars which guarded their landing grounds. ‘For two months,’
says an official report, ‘he led this force with great determination in
the face of all manner of difficulties and as well as planning its operations he led many of the Hurricane fighter sorties himself.’ Towards
the end of November 1941 ‘Whitforce’, as it came to be known, was
joined by Hurricanes of No. 73 Squadron commanded by Squadron
Leader Ward. In the next few weeks Ward led a series of attacks on
airfields and convoys in the El Agheila region, during which enemy
machines were destroyed on the ground and damage done to airfield
facilities; he also shot down two Ju88 bombers and damaged a Messerschmitt 110 during sweeps over the battle area.
New Zealand fighter pilots certainly saw plenty of action during
CRUSADER. Squadron Leader Bary, for example, led his Tomahawk
squadron in the first interception of what became known as ‘Stuka
parties’—formations of Junkers 87 dive-bombers escorted by fighters.
It was on the second day of the offensive that Bary's Tomahawks, in
company with another squadron, intercepted an enemy formation over
the desert and after a spirited engagement scattered them, claiming two
Ju87s destroyed with two fighters and another dive-bomber probably
destroyed. A week later Bary led his pilots in another fierce engagement against some twenty Ju88 bombers escorted by Messerschmitt
109s and Italian G50 fighters; they claimed three fighters and one
bomber destroyed, together with six probables, for the loss of only
two Tomahawks.
Flight Lieutenant Strachan
Squadron Leader I. D. S. Strachan; born Christchurch, 20 May 1917; clerk; joined
RAF27 Sep 1937; commanded 65 Sqdn 1944–45; killed on air operations, 29 Jan 1945.
frequently led Hurricane fighter-bombers against the enemy columns streaming back along the coast
road and across the desert. A typical mission was flown on 8 December
to attack convoys moving from Acroma to the coast road. The Hurricanes found and bombed their target and then six of them swept down
with machine guns blazing to set more lorries on fire and damage
others; meanwhile the other six Hurricanes circled above as top cover
and beat off an attack by enemy fighters, destroying two of them without loss. Another outstanding Hurricane pilot was Flying Officer
Tracey, who had already destroyed eight enemy machines before
CRUSADER began. Early in December he led part of a two-squadron
escort to Blenheims bombing enemy concentrations west of El Adem.
In that area the Hurricane met some twenty Messerschmitts and in the
battle which followed destroyed three of them. During the battle
Tracey saw one of his fellow pilots bale out, so he circled the descending parachute and then landed alongside a surprised South African,
squeezed him into his cockpit and took off back to base.
Flying Tomahawk fighters, Flight Lieutenant Westenra was prominent with No. 112 Squadron, which operated intensively in support
of the Army and on sweeps over enemy airfields. On one patrol early
in December Westenra shot down two Italian G50s while escorting
Blenheims to bomb enemy columns on the Capuzzo road; shortly
afterwards he led his squadron in a very successful strike against the
German airfield at Magrun, where at least fifteen German and Italian
machines were either destroyed or damaged on the ground. Three
other pilots who saw action with Westenra's squadron were Sergeants
Hoare,
Flight Sergeant B. P. Hoare; born Hawera, 3 Sep 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF Nov
1940; killed on operations, 8 Feb 1942.
Glasgow
Sergeant F. D. Glasgow; born Edinburgh, 16 Nov 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF9 Jul 1940; killed on air operations, 25 Nov 1941.
and Houston.
Sergeant W. E. Houston; born Hastings, 7 May 1922; clerk; joined RNZAFJul 1940;
killed on air operations, 12 Dec 1941.
Flying Officers Hammond,
Wing Commander D. H. Hammond, DSO, DFC and bar; born Christchurch, 14 Mar
1916; bank clerk; joined RNZAFJun 1940; commanded No. 489 (NZ) Sqdn 1945.
Watters
Squadron Leader J. Watters; born Waikino, 4 Feb 1916; civil engineer; joined RNZAF20 Sep 1939; transferred RAF9 Jul 1940; retransferred RNZAF11 Jul 1945.
and Crawford
Flying Officer H. H. Crawford; born New Plymouth, 25 Aug 1916; clerk; joined
RNZAFOct 1939; killed on air operations, 6 Feb 1942.
flew some of
the first Beaufighters to operate over the Western Desert. They were
members of No. 272 Squadron which had moved forward into the
desert shortly before CRUSADER began; previously it had been engaged
on long-range convoy patrols. With their formidable armament of four
cannon and six machine guns, the Beaufighters were particularly suitable for ground attack and they rapidly proved a new power in the
desert. And since their operations were partly planned and partly free-lance, they began a remarkable kind of aerial buccaneering which was
rich in incident.
In one sortie, Hammond and his navigator were sweeping low over
Tmimi airfield when their aircraft struck a telegraph pole, tearing off
part of the wing, and it was only by desperately pushing the aileron
control hard over that Hammond just managed to lift the damaged
wing and keep on a level course. But he had not the strength to hold
on for long, so he called his navigator forward and together they contrived to manage the controls and bring the aircraft safely to its base
over 400 miles away—a remarkable feat of flying.
Watters was with the formation of six Beaufighters which, one day
in mid-November, arrived over Tmimi airfield just as five Ju52 transports had taken off; the British pilots shot down all five of them and
then went on to set four more aircraft on fire on the ground; shortly
afterwards they intercepted and shot down two more German reconnaissance machines and finally, before setting course for base, shot up
a column of enemy troops.
Crawford, who flew in many attacks against enemy airfields, had a
remarkable adventure towards the end of December. After being shot
down over the desert, he was captured by the Germans but succeeded
in making his escape just before dawn two days later. Unfortunately,
in his first headlong rush through the darkness he fell and injured his
foot; he was soon unable to walk at all and might well have perished
had he not met some wandering bedouin, who looked after him for
several days and then helped him to reach a British forward unit at
Barce. Crawford returned to his squadron only to lose his life a few
weeks later when his Beaufighter was hit by flak during a low-level
attack on enemy vehicles near Martuba; he made a gallant attempt to
land his machine on the desert but the ground proved too rough and
it crashed and caught fire.
Transport pilots also did work during CRUSADER by carrying forward urgent supplies and evacuating casualties. Flying Officer
Chisholm was prominent in these duties as captain of a Dakota aircraft of No. 117 Squadron. At the height of the battle he helped to
answer an urgent call for ammunition from British tanks near Sidi
Rezegh. When the call came, ships carrying the ammunition had only
reached Port Sudan in the Red Sea, so the Dakotas flew a shuttle service
from that port to a landing ground near the scene of the fighting. The
Dakotas continued to fly up ammunition and spares for several weeks
and undoubtedly made an important contribution at a critical point in
the battle.
Missions of a more unusual kind were flown during CRUSADER by
Pilot Officer T. J. W. Williams,
Flight Lieutenant T. J. W. Williams, DFC and bar; born Napier, 21 Aug 1915; sheep
farmer; joined RNZAF2 Jul 1940.
a New Zealand bomber captain. He
took part in the attempt that was made to interfere with enemy inter-tank radio communication from the air. For this novel experiment six
specially-equipped Wellington aircraft had been flown out from the
United Kingdom and, because of the lively interest displayed by the
British Prime Minister in the project, they came to be known as
‘Winston's Wellingtons’. Unfortunately this first attempt does not
appear to have met with any notable success. For one thing the Wellington aircraft themselves, flying low over the battle area, proved
highly vulnerable. One night towards the end of November 1941, when
Williams was on patrol over the enemy lines, his aircraft was attacked by
several fighters and badly hit; the front turret was put out of action, the
wireless transmitter damaged and the hydraulic tank holed. The leaking
tank was plugged with rags and the wireless operator stood by holding
them in place, thus enabling Williams to complete his patrol and return
to base. After two of the six Wellingtons had been shot down and all
the others damaged the jamming patrols over the battle area were temporarily withdrawn; but experiments with radio counter-measures, in
which both Pilot Officer Williams and Sergeant Russell
Flight Lieutenant A. G. Russell; born Milton, Otago, 15 Dec 1918; clerical cadet;
joined RNZAF4 Jun 1940.
took part,
continued and they resulted in more effective action during the Alamein
battles.
* * * * *
The first days of 1942 found the RAF established on forward airfields in the vicinity of Benghazi while advanced guards of the Eighth
Army had reached El Agheila. They were now halfway to Tripoli and,
given time to renew their strength, they might well press on to that
region and end the war in Africa. But this was not to be. Just as a
year previously Wavell's further advance had been prevented by the
call to Greece, so now progress was again halted by the urgent need to
defend the Far East against Japan's attack. As far as the RAF was concerned whole squadrons, maintenance units and equipment of various
kinds were now transferred or else diverted from the Middle East to
destinations in South-east Asia. The Army suffered similar deprivation
and for both Auchinleck and Tedder the next few months were to prove
a most trying and frustrating period. Already the advance to the Tripolitanian frontier had placed a considerable strain on the British supply
system, for the port of Benghazi had not yet been opened and it was
a thousand miles back to Cairo and Suez. Rommel, on the other hand,
had now come within easier reach of his bases as a result of his retreat
and, under cover of heavy air assault on Malta, was receiving substantial reinforcement by way of Tripoli.
Suddenly, towards the end of January, Rommel struck back. Leaving
his main force of armour halted and largely discarding air support because it would take time to bring up all the petrol they would require,
he sent infantry in lorries racing across the hill country of the Gebel
Akhdar in an outflanking movement from the north. The British forces,
caught unawares and in the midst of supply difficulties, were forced
to give ground. It was typical of Rommel that he should make such a
sudden surprise move, setting out eastwards again, so it is said, with
only a few days' rations in hand and less than a hundred tanks; similarly
that, having achieved initial success, he should continue his advance
with bold unorthodoxy. And his action in dispensing with air support
seemed justified at first for the weather just then was a formidable
alternation of driving rain and sandstorms; but as the skies cleared his
columns were to suffer severely from lack of such protection.
During the opening stages of the enemy attack Desert Air Force had
to contend with waterlogged airfields and the difficulties of moving
back; its forward positions had been insecurely held and when the
military screen in front of it collapsed abruptly, the main fighter force
at Antelat received only the briefest warning of the enemy's approach.
It was no simple matter to evacuate eight squadrons at short notice
from a sodden landing ground; but with six men under each wing, the
Kittyhawks and Hurricanes were moved on to the single strip and the
last of them took off as shells began dropping on the airfield; six unserviceable machines had to be left behind, but the whole move compared favourably with the large numbers of aircraft abandoned by the
Luftwaffe in its retreat a few weeks earlier.
It was not long before our fighters were operating strongly again,
attacking the advancing enemy and regaining air superiority over the
forward area; some Hurricanes encountering a force of dive-bombers,
just as their own petrol was running low, disposed of them and then
forced-landed safely with dry tanks. Boston and Maryland light bombers joined in the daylight attack and by night Wellingtons operating
from advanced landing grounds bombed concentrations of lorries in
the enemy's rear. Tomahawks, Kittyhawks and Hurricanes harassed
the enemy continually as he pressed forward along the desert tracks and
on one day claimed 120 lorries destroyed. All these operations were
flown despite frequent sandstorms.
As Rommel continued his advance the fighter squadrons were compelled to move back once more; at Benina they took off only as the
enemy approached, and again they left little behind. But by the beginning of February, Rommel had outrun his supplies and his columns,
lacking the weight to press home their advance, were finally halted.
Their advance, which had begun so brilliantly, petered out from a
combination of resistance on the ground, resistance in the air and lack
of petrol and supplies. By the middle of February stability had returned
to the war in the desert, with the Eighth Army firmly holding a line
from Gazala to Bir Hacheim. A lull of some three months in the ground
fighting now followed, during which the opponents sought once again
to build up their strength.
Although this final outcome of CRUSADER was somewhat disappointing, the campaign had nevertheless produced substantial dividends. Our
front line, even after the retreat, was still well to the west of the Egyptian frontier instead of along it, so that the airfields of eastern Cyrenaica
were now in our hands. Tobruk, which had been a tremendous strain
on our resources while besieged, had been relieved and, what was even
more important, the temporary possession of airfields to the west had
enabled convoys to be run through to help Malta. In the desert, new
methods of tactical support had been tried out, and while still capable
of improvement, they were a great advance on anything that had gone
before. The scheme of mobile wings had proved a triumphant success,
enabling Coningham's squadrons to keep up with every movement in
a campaign of extraordinary fluidity. The new maintenance organisation had also proved its worth; in four months its units had received
1035 damaged aircraft—brought in from points scattered all over the
desert—and during the same period had repaired and delivered back
810 of these machines to the battle area. Altogether the men of the
Desert Air Forces could feel a justifiable pride at their achievements.
Between mid-November 1941, when the Eighth Army went into action,
and mid-February 1942 when the position stabilised at Gazala, they
had flown well over 10,000 sorties and destroyed some five hundred
German and Italian machines in the air and on the ground. Gaining
command of the air, they had protected our troops, safeguarded our
ships, defended Suez and Alexandria and seriously mauled the enemy's
ground forces.
And now, during the interval in the ground fighting, they continued with patrol and attack. Night fighters fought defensive combats
over Egypt, Bostons assiduously bombed the chain of enemy airfields
from Tmimi to Benghazi and fighter-bombers attacked transport on
the roads. Wellingtons continued to fly night after night on the ‘mail
run’ to Benghazi—the port was bombed on no fewer than sixty-nine
occasions during the spring of 1942—and seriously hampered the unloading of German supplies. Patrols over our forward positions were
maintained daily while reconnaissance over the eastern Mediterranean,
in search of enemy ships and in protection of our own, was constant.
The enemy air forces were almost equally active. They raided Tobruk
and the forward areas, made sporadic attacks on Alexandria and the
Canal and ran a special supply service from Greece and Crete to Derna.
They also kept up patrols to hold off our attacks. Their effort against
Egypt was, however, limited by the fact that the main preoccupation
of the Luftwaffe bombers during these months was the assault against
Malta from Sicily.
And while these operations continued Desert Air Force completed
the reorganisation begun by Tedder in the previous year. The fighter
squadrons were now placed under separate operational control; this
was organised on the ‘leapfrog’ principle with two identical operations
rooms, one forward and one rear, which under fluid conditions could
act in the same way as squadron forward and rear parties and so maintain continuity of operations in spite of frequent moves. Simultaneously
the principles of air support were defined more clearly for the benefit
of air and ground forces alike, and in order to overcome the vexed
problem of identification of ground targets agreement was finally
reached on the marking of all British vehicles with the RAF roundel.
The maintenance and repair organisations were further developed and
expanded while airfield construction was pushed ahead and facilities
improved. By May 1942, Coningham's Desert Air Force, although
somewhat depleted by withdrawals to the Far East, was thus well
prepared to support a ground offensive by the Eighth Army. Unfortunately, however, it was not called upon to do so; for it was the
enemy who struck first.
Rommel opened his attack on 26 May with an outflanking movement
in the familiar manner. This time the main weight of his armour drove
south, passed round Bir Hacheim and then pushed north towards the
main British position at the desert crossroads known as ‘Knightsbridge’. A fierce armoured battle developed in this region, soon to be
nicknamed ‘The Cauldron’. Meanwhile the enemy cut gaps through
the minefields of the main British line in order to provide himself with
a shorter supply route than that round the southern flank. It was not
long before the ‘Cauldron’ was boiling over.
From the outset Coningham's squadrons were active both in close
support of the Eighth Army and in air battles with the Luftwaffe. The
first day they broke up several heavily escorted raids by Stukas and
claimed a good bag of enemy aircraft; thereafter they concentrated
against the German troops and armour, disrupting their supplies and
hindering their advance—two attacks on the morning of the 30th reduced some fifty enemy vehicles to blazing wrecks. In these operations
Kittyhawks now appeared as fighter-bombers and they flew dangerously near the ground. Their losses were considerable but results
appeared to justify them, German prisoners testifying to the alarming
accuracy of the attacks and cursing the inadequate protection afforded
by their own aircraft. And as the fight swayed to and fro in the
‘Cauldron’, General Auchinleck reported that ‘our own Air Force is
co-operating magnificently in the battle.’
After four days of assault from the air and stiffening resistance on
the ground, the enemy supply position had become serious and the
whole issue hung in the balance. But then, under cover of sandstorms
which prevented the RAF from operating intensively, Rommel contrived to widen the gaps in the British minefield and drew back upon
them to replenish his supplies. Thereafter events moved swiftly to a
climax. Mistaking his temporary withdrawal for exhaustion, the
British launched an attack aimed at crushing the enemy bridgehead. It
failed in the face of superior German armour and a powerful array of
anti-tank artillery. Rommel thereupon seized the initiative, turning his
main effort against Bir Hacheim at the southern extremity of the
British line.
Here the RAF was already supplying the isolated garrison and defending it against the assaults of the Luftwaffe with no little success. Now
it redoubled its efforts to help the gallant Free French Brigade, who
were rejecting calls to surrender in language of increasing impropriety.
And as the air attack mounted the sight of Stukas crashing in flames
and bombs bursting among enemy vehicles ‘on their very doorstep’
drew murmurs of appreciation from the defenders. ‘Bravo! Merci pour
le R.A.F.’ signalled their commander; and with commendable gallantry
and a laudable command of idiom, Coningham replied: ‘Bravos à vous!
Merci pour le sport.’ The dive-bombers were beaten—indeed so many
were destroyed or damaged that the Germans had to bring in Ju88s
hurriedly from Crete to fill the gap—but the garrison, pounded by a
mass of heavy artillery and short of water and supplies, was forced to
give up the position after fifteen days' fighting; under cover of the
RAF a brave remnant fought its way out and lived to fight again. Their
dogged defence of this desert outpost became something of a legend
for the fighting French but it was an episode in which the RAF had
played no small part. And it seriously upset the plans on which the
enemy had based his offensive.
With our southern flank broken and his supplies thereby assured,
Rommel now swung north and the fighting round Knightsbridge
reached a new fury. At its close the enemy were masters of the field
and our own armour gravely reduced, compelling a general withdrawal
to the Egyptian frontier. Then things went wrong and soon the Eighth
Army was falling back in headlong retreat. The Germans followed up
swiftly, crashed through the defences of Tobruk, capturing over 30,000
men and great quantities of supplies, and then immediately swept on
towards the Egyptian frontier. Auchinleck was forced to order further
withdrawal, first to Matruh and then to El Alamein, where there
existed a relatively narrow front of about thirty-five miles which could
not be turned since it lay between the sea and the vast salt-pan known
as the Qattara Depression. Here the defence was hurriedly reorganised
with what resources were available and the enemy was at last halted-only sixty miles from Alexandria.
Throughout this black fortnight, when all that our forces had so
painfully won seemed to be slipping away, the Desert Air Force fought
hard and continuously. During the Knightsbridge battle Bostons,
Hurricanes and Kittyhawks went out hour after hour on a shuttle
service of bombing and strafing, returning only to refuel, re-arm and
take off again. The landing grounds shimmered in the June heat under
a constant cloud of dust kicked up by the take-offs. Beneath it, ground
crews worked each hour of daylight and far into the darkness; they
abandoned their tents and dug themselves holes in the ground beside
their aircraft in the dispersal areas, flinging themselves wearily into
these holes to get a few hours' sleep when exhausted. After dark they
muffled their heads in blankets and worked on their aircraft by the light
of pocket torches; and they continued to work through bombing raids
in which the enemy was using peculiarly unpleasant anti-personnel
missiles known as ‘butterfly bombs’. And while these men toiled on
the ground through the midsummer heat, the pilots and aircrews flew,
fought and flew again, without time to shave their beards or change
their clothes. Certainly they earned Auchinleck's acknowledgment that
‘it should be made clear that R.A.F. support for the Army has been
unstinted at great sacrifice throughout the present campaign.’
But the greatest achievement of Desert Air Force came during the
retreat to El Alamein; for while the Eighth Army was moving back
some 400 miles in a fortnight, it not only escaped destruction on the
ground but it also escaped decimation from the air. This second fact
was the more remarkable since, for days on end, the coastal road
presented the astonishing spectacle of a congested mass of slowly
moving troops and transport, a target such as pilots' dreams are made
of. A little attention from Stukas and Messerschmitts and the lorries
must have piled up in endless confusion. But the enemy bombers did
not appear and the Eighth Army reached El Alamein virtually unmolested from the air—during one period of three days when the
congestion was greatest, its casualties on the road from air attacks are
recorded as being just six men and one lorry. This incredible immunity
was partly due to the inability of the Luftwaffe to keep up with Rommel's
advance but, when due allowance is made for this fact, the German
dive-bombers could still have wrought havoc among our retreating
forces had their activities not been vigorously discouraged by the Royal
Air Force. Much of the work of its squadrons was done out of sight
of our troops; highly effective attacks, for example, were made on the
Gazala airfields as soon as they were occupied by the enemy, so crippling the German fighter effort from the start. Later, enemy squadrons
were twice caught on the ground, at Tmimi and Sidi Barrani, at critical
moments during the pursuit. And such fighters as the Germans did
manage to bring forward were kept so busy trying to protect their own
forces that they had little leisure to attack ours. But the Army realised
the protection the RAF was giving it. ‘Thank God, you didn't let the
Huns Stuka us,’ General Freyberg told Tedder, ‘because we were an
appalling target.’
This was after the New Zealanders' brief stand at Minqar Qaim. Actually the Division
did suffer two bombings on 26 June, but as its official historian points out: ‘The outstanding feature of Minqar Qaim was not its impact on the enemy or its contribution to
Eighth Army's operations, but that the Division escaped annihilation. The Division's
concentration on the escarpment made it vulnerable to air attack.’ —J. L. Scoullar,
Battle for Egypt, p. 135.
Coningham's squadrons certainly gave the enemy little rest. After
the fighters and light bombers had finished by day, the Wellingtons
carried on by night. Released from the Benghazi ‘mail run’—a change
greeted by the crews with cheers—they moved up to the Western
Desert and flew a steady sixty or seventy sorties every night against the
enemy's concentrations. And even though Desert Air Force was continually forced to retire from its forward bases, the effort in the air was
increased and not diminished. During the first week of the German
attack Coningham's squadrons flew 2339 sorties, but in the last week,
when the El Alamein line was withstanding the initial shock, they flew
5458. At the same time, the proportion of aircraft serviceable, so far
from declining as the fight continued and casualties mounted, actually
showed a slight improvement. All this was made possible by the strenuous and indeed heroic efforts of the air and ground crews, by the
boldness of their leaders and the remarkable efficiency of the organisation that had been created. Weeks before, Coningham had had plans
prepared for retreat as well as for advance and the landing grounds to
the rear had been stocked with petrol and bombs. His squadrons were
therefore able to make a steady withdrawal, fighting all the time. And
as they moved back, repair and salvage units stripped the airfields of
all useful equipment and supplies. The result was that the Luftwaffe
advanced on to empty desert while the Royal Air Force moved back
on to well-stocked bases from which it could operate with greater
intensity.
Thus did the RAF give the Eighth Army almost complete and continuous support. The only exception was at Tobruk, where the enemy
had things all his own way after the loss of Gambut airfield drove our
main fighter force back out of range. But the very swiftness and
immensity of the disaster at this point, when our fighters were virtually
absent, points the contrast to the successful retirement along the rest
of the route where they were so very much present. As the British
Prime Minister, ‘watching with enthusiasm the brilliant, supreme exertions of the Royal Air Force in the battle’, told the House of Commons
afterwards: ‘When we retreated all those hundreds of miles at such
speed, what saved us was superior air power.’
* * * * *
During these eventful months of early 1942, New Zealanders played
their part with Desert Air Force in steadily increasing numbers. While
fighter pilots gave a good account of themselves in the air battles with
the Luftwaffe and in attacks on ground targets, bomber crews shared
to the full the dull monotony of the ‘mail run’ to Benghazi and the
nightly raids on the enemy's rear areas; they also joined in the land
battle with good effect when the opportunity came. And although
their contingent was still relatively small, the New Zealand airmen
had already achieved something of a reputation for skill and efficiency
among their comrades from other parts of the Commonwealth. By
June 1942 twenty-five of them had been awarded the Distinguished
Flying Cross, four more had won a bar to this decoration and another
twelve had received the Distinguished Flying Medal for operations
with the RAF in the Middle East.
An interesting feature of this period was the arrival in the Middle
East of that outstanding air leader, Sir Keith Park, who took command
of Air Headquarters, Egypt, at the beginning of January 1942. The
appointment was opportune since, following his command of the most
active fighter group in the Battle of Britain, Park was thoroughly
experienced in organising and leading an aggressive fighter defence.
Shortly after his arrival the Germans began more frequent incursions
from their bases on the island of Rhodes and in the Dodecanese, but
under Park's direction the air defences of Egypt—day and night
fighters, anti-aircraft batteries, searchlights and the radar and observer
corps warning system—were organised into a more efficient team and
the raiding bombers given a hot reception. During the six months
prior to the decisive battle of El Alamein, no fewer than forty of them
were shot down over Egypt by our fighters alone. At a time when all
three services were struggling to build up adequate supplies in Egypt,
this successful defence was of the greatest importance.
Among our fighter pilots with Desert Air Force, Squadron Leader
Derek Ward, in command of No. 73 Hurricane Squadron, and Flight
Lieutenant Westenra, who led a flight in No. 112 Kittyhawk Squadron,
were again outstanding on operations. Ward brought his Hurricanes
back to the Western Desert early in February after spending a few
weeks based at Port Said in defence of the Canal Zone; they were now
used to defend the bases of the Desert Air Force at El Adem. At dawn
one early February morning a flight of German bombers flew in from
the sea and Ward took off in his Hurricane to intercept. Here is his
report of the subsequent engagement, during which he shot down a
Heinkel III bomber:
My approach was observed, and the enemy aircraft dived down to sea
level. I carried out an astern attack with no apparent result. There was continuous return fire from the top twin-machine guns. I carried out another
astern attack firing at port and starboard engines. Both engines were damaged and oil came back and covered my windscreen. The enemy aircraft
could not maintain height and belly-landed on the water, north of Tobruk.
During the lull at Gazala, Ward's squadron continued night operations over the forward area. On one patrol early in May while strafing
Barce airfield, Ward caught sight of a large four-engined bomber
flying directly in front of him; a short burst set one of its engines on
fire and a second saw the bomber enveloped in flames; a few moments
later it crashed and exploded in a sheet of flame that lit up the whole
area. With the opening of the German land offensive, Ward's squadron
returned to day operations and was soon in action over the battle.
Ward led sortie after sortie and his Hurricanes did particularly good
work in aid of the French Brigade at Bir Hacheim, dropping supplies
and intercepting enemy air formations. One of the most successful
missions in this eventful period was flown on 12 June. ‘At 1935 hours,’
says the record, ‘twelve Hurricanes were detailed to sweep S.E. of
El Adem. It was the fourth sortie of the day. Near Acroma they met a
large force of Ju87s and Ju88s covered by Me109 and Macchi fighters
and in the hectic fight which followed five Stukas were shot down with
four more probably destroyed. The only damage suffered by us was
one Hurricane slightly damaged.’ By this time Ward himself was credited with six enemy machines destroyed with a further four ‘probables’.
But like so many of his gallant comrades of the early years, his luck
eventually failed him. It was towards the end of this same month,
while he was leading his Hurricanes as escort to a formation of Boston
bombers, that German fighters made a surprise attack. Ward was one
of four pilots lost.
Flight Lieutenant Westenra was frequently in action with his squadron. One day towards the end of January when the Eighth Army was
pulling back to Gazala, he led an attack on German armour near Fort
Sculedine, where six vehicles and one tank were destroyed or damaged.
By mid-February the Kittyhawks were flying sweeps from Gambut
and on the 14th Westenra's squadron scored a notable success. Led by
the redoubtable Australian fighter pilot, Squadron Leader C. R.
Caldwell, later to be credited with the highest number of kills in operations by Desert Air Force, eighteen Kittyhawks encountered a formation of some thirty enemy aircraft over El Adem and claimed the destruction of twenty. On another occasion in March, Westenra was
leading seven aircraft of his squadron which took off from their base
at Gambut to patrol the forward area. Here they intercepted fifteen
Ju87 dive-bombers escorted by Messerschmitt 109s and Macchi 200s.
In breaking up the enemy formation Westenra claimed a Macchi 200
destroyed and a fellow pilot a Ju87. Later in the month Westenra was
concerned in experimental dive-bombing with Kittyhawks, which led
the squadron to turn to this new role.
Two other fighter pilots prominent during these months were
Flight Lieutenant J. E. A. Williams,
Squadron Leader J. E. A. Williams, DFC, m.i.d.; born Wellington, 6 May 1919; joined
RAF17 Jan 1938; commanded No. 450 Sqdn1942; prisoner of war, 31 Oct 1942;
shot attempting to escape from Stalag Luft III, 29 Mar 1944.
flight commander with No. 450
Kittyhawk Squadron, and Flight Sergeant Joyce flying Hurricanes
with No. 73 Squadron. Williams shot down a Messerschmitt while
leading his flight over Gambut one day in June; about the same time,
Joyce, on night patrol in defence of our desert airfields, shot down one
of the Ju88 bombers that were making frequent raids after dark
when our fighters were grounded. Sergeants Baker,
Flying Officer R. L. Baker; born Nethem, Surrey, 29 Mar 1920; railway fitter; joined
RNZAFOct 1939; killed on air operations, 20 Oct 1943.
Howell,
Flight Sergeant A.E. Howell; born Ballarat, Aust, 10 May 1915; clerk; joined RNZAFMay 1940; killed on air operations, 3 Apr 1942.
Musker
Warrant Officer K. McK. Musker; born Uruti, 30 Jan 1916; farmer; joined RNZAF28 Oct 1940.
and Wilson
Flight Lieutenant A. S. Wilson; born Milton, 2 Apr 1921; civil servant; joined RNZAF27 Oct 1940.
did good work flying Hurricanes and Pilot
Officer Mitchell,
Pilot Officer S. S. Mitchell; born Wellington, 28 Dec 1920; bank clerk; joined RNZAF19 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 31 May 1942.
Sergeants Newton
Flight Lieutenant R. H. Newton, DFC; born Wellington, 8 Oct 1918; civil engineer;
joined RNZAF2 Mar 1941.
and Thomas
Warrant Officer H. G. E. Thomas; born Masterton, 25 Nov 1919; shepherd; joined
RNZAF30 Nov 1940; prisoner of war, 5 Sep 1942; safe in UK24 Apr 1945.
as Kittyhawk
pilots. And it is interesting to record that two New Zealanders, Sergeants Bailey
Warrant Officer B. W. Bailey; born Motueka, 31 May 1919; mechanic; joined RNZAFFeb 1941; prisoner of war, 30 Jun 1942.
and Burman,
Warrant Officer D. C. Burman; born Maidenhead, England, 7 Oct 1920; clerk; joined
RNZAFDec 1940; killed on air operations, 16 Aug 1944.
flew some of the first Spitfires that reached
Desert Air Force in June 1942.
With the Beaufighters that were employed both on shipping protection and in low-level attack against airfields and transport behind
the enemy lines, Flying Officer Makgill,
Flying Officer J. E. Makgill; born Auckland, 1 Nov 1913; engineer; joined RAF6 Dec 1939; killed on air operations, 25 Jun 1942.
Flight Lieutenant A. G. Cutten; born Auckland, 13 Sep 1911; clerk; joined RNZAFMar 1940.
and France
Flying Officer J. S. France; born Gore, 17 Jun 1917; stock clerk; joined RNZAF29 Sep 1940.
were prominent on operations. The daily entries in their squadron
records are brief, but here is one that indicates the spirit and dash
with which Beaufighter crews operated.
1 May 1942. Three aircraft took off at dawn on strafing expedition in Agedabia area. Found and attacked five lorries near Bigrada; one towing a petrol
bowser blew up in a most satisfying fashion. Later sighted twelve vehicles
heading north each towing trailers carrying oil drums. Spectacular fire
followed our attack. Further north came upon larger convoy and attacked
with machine guns, causing fires and confusion. Soon after this “R” chased
a Ju 52 near the coast and it forced landed on the beach. On return his
Beaufighter showed a rifle bullet hole in the fuselage directly under pilot
but bullet had been deflected by elevator control.
Crews were not always so fortunate. On 15 June, when twenty-six
sorties were flown to cover a large convoy bound for Malta from
Alexandria, six aircraft were lost, two being shot down by enemy
fighters and two more possibly by our own naval guns; another
stayed with the convoy to the utmost limit of his endurance and may
have run out of fuel on the way back. However, one also reads that on
this same day a crew on reconnaissance patrol ‘found the Italian Fleet,
made careful observation of its composition and position and then
flashed “a rude word” on the aldis lamp at the nearest cruiser, which
promptly opened fire, very inaccurately.’ They then went on and shot
down an Italian fighter.
A highlight in Beaufighter operations was the low-level attack on
2 July against the group of landing grounds at Sidi Barrani, where
four Ju87s and two Messerschmitts were destroyed and another
thirteen other aircraft damaged.
The men who flew heavy bombers, the Wellingtons and the few newly-arrived Liberators, had a less spectacular part to play; but it was none
the less important and it is now known that during the retreat to El
Alamein the larger bombs they dropped caused considerable damage
at enemy landing grounds and among supply vehicles.
Most of the bomber men already mentioned in this chapter continued to fly regularly with their squadrons, achieving a fine record of
service. Squadron Leader Macfarlane,
Squadron Leader M. H. Macfarlane, DFC and bar; born Christchurch, 25 Oct 1916;
shepherd; joined RNZAFJun 1939; transferred RAFJan 1940; retransferred RNZAFJul 1945.
Flight Lieutenant Pownall,
Flight Lieutenant C. A. Pownall, DFC; born Wellington, 15 Jan 1915; electrical
engineer; joined RNZAF15 Jun 1939; joined RAFJan 1940; retransferred RNZAF18 Jan 1945.
Flight Sergeants Armstrong,
Flight Lieutenant C. A. Armstrong, DFM; born Auckland, 15 Apr 1918; customs
clerk; joined RNZAFJun 1940; killed on operations, 12 Jun 1944.
Metcalf
Flying Officer A. G. Metcalf, DFM; born Bradford, England, 5 Jun 1919; farmer;
joined RNZAF15 Jun 1939; killed on air operations, 28 Dec 1943.
and Starky
Squadron Leader J. B. Starky, DSO, DFC; born Gisborne, 10 Nov 1916; farmer;
joined RNZAF2 Jul 1940.
also did good
work as captains of aircraft and Flight Sergeants James
Warrant Officer A. James, DFM; born Wellington, 24 Jan 1920; civil servant; joined
RNZAFNov 1939.
and Coleman
Flight Lieutenant K. K. J. Coleman, DFM; born Blenheim, 20 Mar 1918; clerk; joined
RNZAFMar 1940.
as air gunners. Each of these men had already flown on operations
with Bomber Command in England; Coleman and James, for example,
had each completed fifty missions against targets in Germany and the
Middle East by April 1942. And while the nightly raids with Desert
Air Force might be somewhat less exciting than those against targets
in the Ruhr, yet incident was not lacking. For instance, after one sortie
to Benghazi when the flak batteries were more than usually active,
Armstrong landed back with his Wellington holed in twenty-six places.
On another night Metcalf's machine ran short of petrol on the return
flight from Derna and he and his crew were forced to bale out over the
desert; they managed to collect together but it was two days before
they were found and picked up. One NCO pilot, Sergeant Black,
Flying Officer A. T. Black; born Christchurch, 10 Jul 1912; ledgerkeeper; joined
RNZAFNov 1940.
after his Wellington had come down in the sea off Sollum, was lucky
enough to be spotted with his crew in their dinghy the next day by a
Walrus of the Fleet Air Arm and then picked up a few hours later by
a rescue launch. Inevitably others were less fortunate. Here is what
happened to a crew from No. 148 Squadron in which Sergeant Spence
Warrant Officer B. W. Spence; born Napier, 25 Nov 1917; customs clerk; joined
RNZAF29 Sep 1940; prisoner of war, 23 Feb 1942.
was second pilot.
We were briefed to attack an enemy convoy steaming towards Tripoli
[he writes]. After flying up to advanced base in the afternoon we took off
for our mission just after dark.
Everything went smoothly until we crossed the coast north of Benghazi,
when suddenly the port motor of our Wellington started to overheat and
in a very short time it seized up; the plane started losing height very rapidly,
although the starboard motor was at full throttle so the captain ordered
everything possible to be jettisoned, and turned back. We crossed the coast
again and let go the bombs. The plane seemed to hold its height for a time
but soon the good motor started to heat and we began to lose height again.
The night was so black we couldn't tell how far off we were from the
high ground until suddenly we hit with a tremendous crash and skidded
along for quite a distance. We all got out unhurt and although I had been
dragged along on the floor behind the bomb bays I only received a small
knock on the hip. The plane seemed to be in small pieces. We reckoned we
were then about 80 miles behind the German lines, then around Gazala, so
decided to try and walk back. After smashing up everything not already
written off in the crash and filling our only two surviving water bottles, the
six of us set off about midnight using the compass found undamaged in the
wreck.
After only a few hours walking in flying boots over the terribly rough
ground in this region we were all worried with blisters. About two O'clock
we almost bumped into an enemy tank and in trying to get round it came
across some more. Whichever way we turned we saw tanks; we must have
walked into the middle of an enemy laager in the darkness so decided the
only thing to do was to try to work our way through them. In single file
we crept past tank after tank and although we could hear the crews coughing
and talking we were not seen and when we finally realised that we had passed
through safely we were six considerably shaken men.
Shortly after this the moon came up and we were able to see where we
were placing our very sore feet. We continued walking with ten minute
breaks every hour until just as it was getting light in the East, we were
suddenly stopped with the cry of ‘Halt’, at which we all threw ourselves
flat. From the voice we could tell it was not friendly so after a hurried
whispered conference we crawled back the way we had come and tried to
get round him to the South only to walk into another challenge. This time
we decided to try the North and were able to go about 200 yards before
once again the cry of ‘Halt’ rang out, this time accompanied by the noise
of a rifle bolt being worked. We simply froze to the ground expecting a
bullet every second. After a few agonizing moments we crawled back the
way we had originally come.
By this time it was getting quite light so we crept back looking for cover
but could find nothing except an occasional stunted bush about a foot high,
so settled down to await the coming of the search parties we were sure
would be out the moment the sentries reported our presence, yet although
we lay all that day in clear view of several parties of Italians, working on
roads, no attempt was made to find us. However we had one or two scares,
once when a motor-cyclist passed within 20 yards of us and another when
about ten tanks rumbled past about 200 yards away. We had bully beef and
biscuits with us but we were unable to swallow them on our ration of two
mouthfuls of water each twice a day.
As soon as it became dark enough we set off on a compass course we had
worked out during the day and were able to pass the enemy parties apparently before sentries had been posted. That night we covered a considerable
distance without any alarms and when morning came we reckoned we had
covered about 30 miles from the crash. As there was no sign of life anywhere we decided to keep walking before we got too weak from lack of
water so on we went. Our ten minute spells every hour had become by this
time twenty minutes and even thirty minutes. Every step was agony. The
one member of the crew who had shoes, had them fall to pieces about this
time so we had to bind them up with blankets. Although we were suffering
terribly from the heat at this time we still kept our blankets and Irvine
jackets because the nights were so cold.
About mid-day we saw a plane very low, flying straight for us and couldn't
tell because of the haze, whether it was a Hurricane or a M.E.109. By the
time we could see the markings and recognise it as a Hurricane and were
able to fire our flare pistol and wave our shirts, it was right over us and we
were not seen, a great disappointment.
Shortly after this we came across a bird's nest among the stones with two
eggs in it. They made a delightful drink when beaten up with a little of our
nearly exhausted water supply. We each had two and a half spoonfuls.
Later in the afternoon we had to climb a fairly high hill and on top we
found an old observation post and in it half a bottle of red Italian wine
which we shared out after a few thoughts of poison. About this time we
must have started having hallucinations from lack of water because we all
saw what looked like deserted British trucks and Bren carriers down the
other side of the hill; but when one of the crew volunteered to climb down
to search them for water he found only empty desert. After a rather longer
rest than usual we set course again until after dark when we had another
experience of seeing quite clearly a truck looming up out of the darkness
which just disappeared as we approached.
Soon we came to a bigger bush than usual with, of all things, green grass
growing under it, so as we could go no further lay down to sleep. We must
have slept for quite a time for when we woke, the grass was very wet with
dew and we were able to lick off quite a bit of water before forcing ourselves
to walk on. We were now down to about 15 minutes walking every hour
and realised we were about at the end of our endurance, but thought we
must be getting near our lines as the lack of movement convinced us we
must be in ‘No-Mans Land’.
Just before dawn we collapsed and fell asleep where we lay. We were
awakened by one of the crew shouting and we looked up to see him pointing
ahead towards a group of trucks parked on the horizon facing West. We
could make them out as British and guessed they were a party on the road
from Tobruk to Gazala, stopped for breakfast. With new strength and very
pleased with ourselves we set off, waving and trying to shout and firing off
our revolvers. As we approached we could see a small group of men on a
slight rise examining us through glasses and then two of them started
walking in our direction. When they were about fifty yards off we realised
they were German but I think we were all too far gone to take it in enough
to worry.
The officer greeted us in English and told us to follow him. Sure enough
as we approached we could see that the trucks were British but were being
used by the Germans. We had walked into an anti-tank group and behind
the guns were the German crews watching the British tanks about two
miles away. One of the officers even lent us his glasses so that we could get
a good look at them. The Germans gave us what water they could spare
and we were soon bundled into a staff-car and taken back by stages to Derna
where we were able to get our feet attended to and as much water as we
wanted.
It was during these months that a few Liberator bombers began
adventurous operations in support of the patriot forces in Yugoslavia,
dropping agents, supplies and ammunition near their mountain fastnesses, and three experienced New Zealand bomber pilots, Flight
Lieutenant Rolph-Smith,
Squadron Leader D. M. Rolph-Smith, DFC, Order of the White Eagle (Yug); born
Auckland, 19 Jun 1919; salesman; joined RNZAFApr 1939; transferred RAF Jan
1940; killed in flying accident, 18 Nov 1943.
Flying Officers Madill
Squadron Leader S. J. Madill, OBE, DFC, Order of the Crown (Yug); born Auckland,
14 Dec 1913; farmer; joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
and J. A. H. Smith,
Squadron Leader J. A. H. Smith, DFC, Order of the Crown (Yug); born Hastings,
21 Apr 1920; baker and pastrycook; joined RNZAF15 Jul 1940.
were among the crews specially chosen for these duties. Rolph-Smith
flew the first sortie on 26 March 1942, when he made a survey of the
proposed area of operations; during the following months all three
pilots were to make a valuable contribution to this hazardous work
and win high commendation for their skill, resource and endurance.
At first the Liberator crews concentrated on establishing contact
with the partisans, dropping leaflets to explain their intentions and
parachuting down agents who would act as liaison officers and send
back radio reports and instructions as to the best dropping areas. Then,
after a few weeks, regular supply dropping sorties began. The usual
round trip meant a flight of some thirteen hours, much of it over wild,
mountainous country. There were other difficulties. Meteorological
reports were either non-existent or unreliable, the weather was frequently appalling with rain, icing, electrical storms and thick cloud
and there was always the danger of interception by enemy fighters.
Navigation was especially difficult, since wireless aids often could not
be used because of static and astro-navigation became impossible when
the stars were obscured or the sextant mirror frosted over. All too
often crews reached the vicinity of the dropping zone only to find that
thick low cloud covered their pinpoints, hiding the signals of the reception
party—then there was no alternative but to return with their containers
and packages. But undaunted, they went back again; and by their
persistence they enabled the partisans to receive sufficient help and
encouragement for them to hold out during a very difficult period of
constant German pressure.
CHAPTER 4Western Desert—The Third Year
‘ROMMEL will be in Cairo within a few days,’ boasted the German
radio on 30 June 1942. And the Italian dictator Mussolini was
already at Derna preparing for the triumphal entry, having brought
with him, so it is said, a white horse on which he proposed to lead the
procession.
But the high hopes raised by the enemy's rapid advance into Egypt
were doomed to disappointment. For Rommel's forces were well-nigh
exhausted and, in the face of British air superiority and stiffening resistance on the ground, they now proved unequal to continuing their
race across the desert. Against the advancing columns Coningham's
squadrons flew over seven hundred sorties a day. ‘The continuous
raids by day and night are hindering us seriously,’ reported the enemy,
‘and the supply situation has become even worse.’ Meantime, under
cover of the constant RAF attack, the British army was able to recover
from the disorganisation of its retreat; and at El Alamein it turned to
fight. The troops fought stubbornly and by the end of the first week in
July they had fought the enemy to a standstill. For the moment at
least, Cairo and Alexandria were safe.
In his despatch, General Auchinleck pays high tribute to the part
played by Desert Air Force during this first phase of the battle for
Egypt. ‘Our air forces,’ he writes, ‘could not have done more than
they did to help and sustain the Eighth Army in its struggle. Their
effort was continuous by day and night and the effect on the enemy
was tremendous. I am certain that had it not been for their devoted
and exceptional efforts we should not have been able to stop the enemy
on the El Alamein position.’
Attack and counter-attack now succeeded each other as Auchinleck
sought to regain the initiative at El Alamein. But while his efforts
resulted in some improvement in our general position, they failed in
their main purpose of driving the enemy back; our reserves were too
few to maintain the initial momentum of the attacks and our armour,
some of it new and inexperienced, suffered heavy losses. By the end of
July both sides were thoroughly exhausted by the long battle and it
was clear that a stalemate had been reached. The ground fighting
slackened and once again both sides became involved in a struggle to
build up supplies and renew their strength.
The RAF continued to operate intensively throughout these weeks.
Baltimores and Bostons, based in the Canal Zone but operating from
forward landing grounds, pattern-bombed the enemy troop positions
from dawn to dusk; indeed their formations, well protected by fighters,
operated with such regularity that they became known to those watching below as ‘The Eighteen Imperturbables’. Simultaneously Kittyhawks, Hurricanes and some newly-arrived Spitfires took off from their
landing grounds along the Cairo-Alexandria road to range ceaselessly
over the enemy's lines, attacking ground targets and shooting down
Stukas and Messerschmitts; Beaufighters strafed enemy airfields and
transport behind the front. At night the attack was continued by the
heavy bombers now withdrawn to Palestine for lack of room in Egypt.
Wellingtons, refuelling in the Canal Zone, attacked troop positions in
the light of flares dropped by Albacores; they also bombed the port of
Tobruk, for the old familiar target of Benghazi was now far beyond
their reach. The few Liberators, however, could still reach the latter
port direct from Palestine and their crews played their part well.
The effect of all this effort and endeavour is seen in the diary of the
German Afrika Korps, where difficulties of supply and damage and loss
caused by our air attacks receive repeated mention. On 21 July, Rommel
himself reported that ‘the enemy air force by its continual day and
night operations has caused considerable loss among our troops, delayed and, at times, cut off our supplies …. the supply situation is
tense owing to continual attacks on German supplies at Tobruk and
Matruh.’
The lull in the ground fighting during August brought a decline in
air activity over the battlefield. Even so, Coningham's fighters and
bombers flew over 5700 sorties that month, excluding shipping sweeps
and protection; for with the enemy gradually concentrating fighter
squadrons at Fuka and Daba, it was essential to retain our air supremacy over the forward area and to defend our bases from surprise attack.
An interesting feature of this period was the defeat of the German
attempt at high-level reconnaissance with pressurised Ju86 aircraft,
capable of flying at 45,000 feet. Specially stripped Spitfires, operating
in pairs, accounted for three of them within a month. The first victory
—a solo effort—was obtained at 49,000 feet on 24 August by Flying
Officer Reynolds,
Flight Lieutenant G. W. H. Reynolds, DFC; born London, 27 Aug 1905; car-sales
manager.
RAF, the 38-year-old chief test pilot at a large
maintenance unit. He shot down another in mid-September. The technique was for one pilot to guide another within visual range of the
enemy, whereupon he climbed to the level of the Ju86 to fire at the
latter's engines; the other pilot waited below and, if necessary, finished
off the winged bird.
But the main RAF effort was directed against Rommel's supplies.
For the enemy was now beset with the difficulties attendant on maintaining an army with land lines of communication stretching 600 miles
to the west, and an army, moveover, that was in immediate need of
reinforcement in men and equipment. Matruh and, more especially,
Tobruk, which he had brought into use as reinforcing ports, became
the objectives for ever-increasing bomber raids. Simultaneously our
torpedo-bombers went out against shipping, and their attacks, together with those of our submarines, made it most difficult for the
enemy to run supplies across from Greece. The repeated raids on
Tobruk prevented the Germans from making anything like full use of
this port. This, in turn, forced them to bring up supplies from Benghazi either in lorries, which soon wore out, or in small coastal craft
which provided attractive targets for our long-range Beaufighters.
And Benghazi itself was now under attack by the Liberators. According to Admiral Weichold, chief German liaison officer at Italian Naval
Headquarters, about 35 per cent of the total enemy cargoes despatched
to North Africa during August failed to reach their destination.
While the enemy's supplies were thus being curtailed our own were
arriving in the Canal Zone in an ever broadening flow, with which
the enemy entirely failed to interfere. Night after night German aircraft dropped mines in the Suez Canal but these were quickly swept
up. Apart from this, not only our ports and bases but the long desert
road from Cairo to Alexandria, crowded with military traffic and
flanked on either side by camps and landing grounds, were seldom
visited by the Luftwaffe. In the face of our continuing attack, Kesselring
was compelled to employ most of his bombers as well as his fighters
in protecting Rommel's communications by land and sea. Thus did the
RAF continue to hold the initiative as our ground forces prepared for
their next battle.
* * * * *
In mid-August 1942 General Alexander took over command in the
Middle East and General Montgomery was appointed to lead the
Eighth Army, Churchill's directive to Alexander being ‘to take or
destroy at the earliest opportunity the German Italian Army ….’ With
these changes of command and the arrival of strong reinforcements,
a new spirit infused our forces in Egypt and the way was paved for a
major offensive.
Particularly important was the greater unity of purpose and understanding now achieved between Desert Air Force and Eighth Army;
Montgomery at once showed a keen appreciation of the part that could
and should be played by the RAF in the land battle and the close
liaison he now established with Coningham was to be reflected in
highly successful operations during the next few months. ‘I hold,’ said
Montgomery, ‘that it is quite wrong for the soldier to want to exercise
command over the air striking forces. The handling of an air force is
a life study and therefore the air part must be kept under air force
command ….Eighth Army and the Desert Air Force have to be so
knitted so that the two together form one entity. The resultant military
effort will be so great that nothing will be able to stand up against it.’
The land and air forces would retain their own commands, each qualified to face its special problems, but they would operate under a combined plan. And since the soldier no longer wished to control the air
striking force, there was little danger of dissipating air power in small
instalments at the will of ground formations whose vision was limited
to a few attractive targets on their own immediate front. For the air
front, as Coningham pointed out, was indivisible and penny packets
of air power were a luxury that could only be afforded at certain times.
Judgment on the question of targets must be the result of agreement
between the army and air commanders. This would be reached in the
light of the situation as a whole; and it might well lead them to disappoint a section of their front by declining to use the bombers on one
particular hostile concentration in order to dispose of a more formidable mass twenty miles away, whose safe arrival at its destination might
affect a whole week's fighting on the entire front.
Above all, it was now generally realised that while the army had one
battle to fight—the land battle—Desert Air Force had two. It had first
of all to beat the enemy air force so that it might then go into battle
against his land forces with the maximum possible hitting power. And
as Montgomery pointed out: ‘If you do not win the air battle first you
will probably lose the land battle.’
Meantime things remained fairly quiet in the desert where the two
armies faced each other on the line south from El Alamein. Desert Air
Force continued to operate but at reduced pressure and, apart from the
heat and a plague of flies, its squadrons now lived more comfortably
than they had done for many months. Water was plentiful; the recreations of Alexandria were at hand; and such luxuries as fruit and fresh
meat appeared on the trestle tables in mess tents. And while the desert
airmen gratefully absorbed a few civilised comforts for a change, training and re-equipment proceeded. The fighter force became stronger.
It soon had twenty-one squadrons and the standard of serviceability
was further improved; moreover, there were now three squadrons of
Spitfires sweeping high over the desert and causing Messerschmitt
pilots to look apprehensively upwards instead of down.
The land fighting suddenly flared up again at the end of August
when Rommel, realising our growing strength, decided to make a last
bid to break through to Alexandria. Some fierce clashes took place,
especially round Alam el Halfa, but with his moves anticipated and in
the face of a vigorous defence, the enemy onslaught failed to make any
real progress; and within a week the battle was over. During the fight
ing the RAF made a strenuous and sustained effort in support of the
Eighth Army. On the eve of the enemy attack, Coningham told his
men: ‘The battle is on. Good luck in your usual brilliant work. This
defensive land fight for Egypt will be followed later by an offensive and
then away we go. Meanwhile go for him in the air whenever you can.’
And go for him they did. In five days Desert Air Force flew over 3000
sorties. Fighters held the ring over the battlefield and protected our
troops from the Luftwaffe—now making a somewhat belated effort—
while bombers, fighter-bombers and fighters alike hammered away at
enemy troops and armour. Bunched up by the pressure of our artillery
and tanks, these latter offered a superb target and it was most effectively
dealt with. ‘The continuous and very heavy attacks of the R.A.F.,’ says
Rommel, ‘absolutely pinned my troops to the ground and made impossible any safe deployment or advance according to schedule.’ And
General Bayerlein, Chief of Staff of the Afrika Korps, afterwards declared: ‘Your air superiority was most important, perhaps decisive ….
We had very heavy losses, more than from any other cause.’
With Rommel's second attempt to break through to Alexandria thus
defeated, the Eighth Army intensified its preparations for a major
offensive. The RAF for its part continued with reconnaissance, patrol
and attack over and beyond the enemy front, and more especially with
the assault on his supply lines. And here it was that the seeds of the
enemy's final overthrow and defeat were sown. For Rommel's weakness lay behind him and with the mounting offensive—from Malta as
well as Egypt—against his shipping, his ports, and transport on the
desert roads, his forces in Egypt were now deprived of the material and,
above all, the petrol that were so essential for victory in desert warfare.
During October, our aircraft and submarines between them sank some
50,000 tons of enemy shipping on the North African routes. Of the
cargo of which Rommel was thus cheated, 65 per cent was fuel. Small
wonder that one of his generals afterwards remarked bitterly: ‘El Alamein was lost before it was fought. We had not the petrol.’
Meanwhile, in the desert, the enemy had been forced on the defensive
and, as Rommel himself admits, our command of the air now actually
dictated the enemy's military dispositions:
… the first and most serious danger which now threatened us was from the
air. This being so, we could no longer rest our defence on the motorised
forces used in a mobile role, since these forces were too vulnerable to air
attack. We had instead to try to resist the enemy in field positions which
had to be constructed for defence against the most modern weapons of war.
We had to accept the fact that, by using his air-power, the enemy would be
able to delay our operations at will, both in the daytime and—using parachute flares—at night. For no man can be expected to stay in his vehicle and
drive on under enemy air attack. Our experience in the ‘Six-day Race’ had
shown us that any sort of time-schedule was now so much waste paper.
This meant that our positions had henceforth to be constructed strongly
enough to enable them to be held by their local garrisons independently
and over a long period, without even the support of operational reserves,
until reinforcements—however much delayed by the R.A.F.—could arrive.
The fact of British air superiority threw to the winds all the tactical rules
which we had hitherto applied with such success. There was no real answer
to the enemy's air superiority, except a powerful air force of our own. In
every battle to come the strength of the Anglo-American air force was to be
the deciding factor.
The Rommel Papers, p. 286.
At the end of September 1942, Rommel, now a sick man, flew to
Germany for treatment. When he returned a month later it was to find
his army fighting a desperate battle and the situation gone beyond hope
of recovery.
* * * * *
Such was the background of events against which men of the Desert
Air Force flew and fought during the summer and autumn of 1942.
Led by their distinguished fellow countryman, Air Vice-Marshal
Coningham, New Zealand airmen continued to share in all phases of
the air activity.
The fighter pilots in their Hurricanes, Kittyhawks and Spitfires
patrolled the battlefield at the height of the land fighting and intercepted formations of enemy fighters and dive-bombers; they also escorted light bombers on their missions and, turning often to the fighter-bomber role, attacked ground targets with good effect. Squadron
Leader Hayter,
Squadron Leader J. C. F. Hayter, DFC and bar, m.i.d.; born Timaru, 18 Oct 1917;
farmer; joined RNZAF5 Dec 1938; transferred RAF18 Aug 1939 and RNZAF16 Aug
1944; commanded No. 274 Sqdn, Middle East, 1942; No. 74 Sqdn, Middle East and
Europe, 1943—44.
Flight Lieutenants J. E. A. Williams and Ingram
Squadron Leader M. R. B. Ingram, DFC; born Dunedin, 13 Dec 1921; clerk; joined
RNZAF28 Jul 1940; commanded No. 152 Sqdn, SE Asia, 1943—44; died of injuries
received on air operations, 11 Jul 1944.
were specially prominent in such operations.
Hayter commanded a squadron of Hurricanes which put up a very
fine effort; in one action early in July he and his pilots broke up a
formation of enemy fighters and, without loss, drove down two of
them and damaged seven others. Williams, who was a flight commander in No. 450 Kittyhawk Squadron, flew consistently in patrol and
attack. One day in mid-September, while leading ten Kittyhawks over
the El Alamein positions, he sent two Stuka dive-bombers down to
explode on the ground and damaged a third; during another sortie
against the enemy airfield at Daba he shot down a Ju88 bomber.
Ingram was also a flight commander in No. 601 Spitfire Squadron;
he frequently led patrols over the battle area and in various actions
shot down three Messerschmitts and damaged another. Four other
fighter pilots who did good work at this time were Flight Sergeants
R. H. Newton and Morrison,
Flying Officer T. H. Morrison; born Auckland, 8 Jun 1920; shop assistant; joined
RNZAF2 Mar 1941.
who flew Kittyhawks with No. 112
Squadron, and Flying Officer Hesketh
Squadron Leader C. R. Hesketh, DFC; born Auckland, 12 Jun 1913; solicitor's clerk;
joined RNZAFMar 1941.
and Flight Sergeant D. C.
Burman with No. 145 Spitfire Squadron.
Less spectacular but equally effective work was done by the men who
flew Beaufighters and Hurricanes in defence of our bases in Egypt
against enemy night bombers; the results they achieved were highly
creditable, since the isolated raiders flying in from the sea were anything but easy to intercept. Flight Lieutenant Mackenzie,
Wing Commander R. M. Mackenzie, DSO, DFC, AFC; RAF; born Tai Tapu, 8 Sep
1916; joined RAF23 Aug 1937; transferred RNZAFJan 1944; commanded No. 227
Sqdn, Middle East, 1943; Training Staff, HQ RAF, Middle East, 1944; transferred
RAF1947.
with Pilot
Officer Craig
Flight Lieutenant A. L. Craig, DFC; born Dartford, England, 10 Dec 1917; metalworker; joined RNZAFSep 1940.
as his radio observer, were a most successful Beaufighter
crew in No. 46 Squadron; one night early in July they intercepted and
shot down a Heinkel III bomber near Alexandria and then a few weeks
later they shot another night bomber down in the sea off Aboukir; a
further encounter followed in September when they caught a Heinkel
approaching Alexandria and sent it down with engines on fire to
explode on the ground within sight of one of our airfields. Warrant
Officer E. L. Joyce did similar execution flying a Hurricane of No. 73
Squadron, a unit, incidentally, with which New Zealanders had been
associated since the early days of the war. One night he picked up a
Ju88 flying 400 feet above him over Maaten Baggush. Following the
bomber despite the fact that it was turning and circling, he closed to
50 yards and opened fire. Three of the Hurricane's cannons jammed and
the enemy aircraft again took violent evasive action, including sharp
dives and steep climbing turns, but, says the official report, ‘Joyce
clung tenaciously to its tail despite return fire and finally closed in to
engage the enemy aircraft successfully with his one cannon.’ By the
end of August, Joyce, who had now been flying with No. 73 Squadron
for over a year, had brought his score to eight enemy aircraft destroyed
—five of them at night. The Beaufighters and Hurricanes also went out
to strafe enemy airfields by night and some of the first sorties against
German air bases in Crete were flown by Mackenzie and Craig.
More than fifty New Zealanders captained bomber aircraft during
these months, with others flying as navigators, wireless operators and
gunners. Squadron Leader L. J. Joel did particularly fine work both
as pilot and formation leader of Baltimore light bombers operating
mainly against targets on or near the battlefield; they frequently met
intense anti-aircraft fire and on several occasions Joel's machine was
hit and damaged, but each time he managed to land back safely and
continue flying. Also flying Baltimores were Warrant Officers Baker
Flying Officer L. T. Baker; born Wanganui, 2 May 1915; audit clerk; joined RNZAFSep 1940; drowned on active service, 29 Sep 1943.
and Askew,
Flight Lieutenant G. D. Askew; born Sydney, NSW, 17 Oct 1914; packer; joined
RNZAFJul 1940.
both pilots, and Warrant Officer Callender,
Warrant Officer H. R. Callender; born Auckland, 30 Jan 1919; bank clerk; joined
RNZAFJul 1940; prisoner of war, 6 Oct 1942.
a navigator.
On one raid against an enemy petrol dump their squadron ran into
heavy flak and most of the aircraft were hit; one crashed and blew up,
two others also came down but their crews survived. In Callender's
machine both engines failed and a propeller fell off; he and two other
members of his crew baled out at once only to land in the midst of the
enemy; their pilot found his cockpit hood jammed so he crash-landed
in no-man's-land and then escaped under fire.
The crews of the heavier bombers—most of them flew Wellingtons
for there were still only a few longer range Liberators and Halifaxes—
went out by night to attack enemy ports, shipping and supply dumps;
they also bombed concentrations of tanks and vehicles in the battle
area. Here are some of the men who captained Wellington aircraft on
many such missions: Squadron Leader Morton,
Wing Commander J. E. S. Morton, DFC, m.i.d.; RAF; born Invercargill, 11 Jun
1915; clerk; joined RNZAF14 Jun 1939; transferred RAF17 Jan 1940; commanded
No. 40 Sqdn, 1942—43; Chief Training Instructor, No. 203 Group, Middle East, 1943—45.
Squadron Leader
Steel
Squadron Leader F. J. Steel, DFC; born Masterton, 7 Jul 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF20 Nov 1939.
and Flying Officer Fleming
Flight Lieutenant R. T. Fleming, DFC; born Opotiki, 23 Sep 1921; clerk; joined
RNZAF24 Nov 1940; prisoner of war, 13 Aug 1944.
of No. 40 Squadron; Flight Lieutenant Hetherton,
Squadron Leader J. A. Hetherton, DFC; born Tapanui, 14 Oct 1915; electrical engineer;
joined RNZAFDec 1940.
Flying Officer Holdaway
Flight Lieutenant E. A. Holdaway, DFC and bar; born Carterton, 8 Jan 1918; storeman;
joined RNZAFDec 1940.
and Flight Sergeant
Spinley
Flight Lieutenant M. Spinley, DFM; born Wellington, 1 Nov 1922; butcher; joined
RNZAF2 Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Feb 1945.
with No. 37 Squadron; Flying Officer B. H. Gray
Flight Lieutenant B. H. Gray, DFC; born Waverley, 10 Dec 1912; commercial traveller;
joined RNZAFJan 1941.
and
Pilot Officer Stewart
Flight Lieutenant D. R. Stewart, DFM; born Belfast, Canterbury, 8 Oct 1915; clerk;
joined RNZAF22 Dec 1940.
of No. 70 Squadron; Flight Lieutenant Beale,
Squadron Leader H. H. Beale, DFC and bar; born Waipiro Bay, 10 Sep 1916; shepherd;
joined RNZAFJan 1941; died of wounds while prisoner of war, 8 Apr 1944.
Flying Officer E. L. Gray,
Flight Lieutenant E. L. Gray, DFC; born Wellington, 24 Mar 1911; farmer; joined
RNZAFJan 1941.
Flight Sergeants Taaffe
Flight Lieutenant R. J. Taaffe, DFM; born Frasertown, Hawke's Bay, 14 Dec 1918;
ledgerkeeper; joined RNZAF18 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 24 Nov 1943.
and Craig
Flight Sergeant L. L. A. Craig; born Auckland, 22 Jan 1918; civil servant; joined
RNZAFMar 1941; killed on air operations, 7 Nov 1942
of
No. 104 Squadron; Flying Officer Campbell,
Flight Lieutenant F. V. Campbell, DFC; born Otahuhu, 14 Sep 1916; butter-maker;
joined RNZAFMar 1941.
Flight Sergeants Momo
Flight Lieutenant R. J. R. Momo, DFC; born Christchurch, 9 Apr 1922; apprentice
electrician; joined RNZAF23 Mar 1941.
and A. T. Black of No. 148 Squadron; and Flight Lieutenant
Kofoed
Wing Commander W. R. Kofoed, DSO, DFC; born Outram, 28 Dec 1915; farmer;
joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
who captained a Halifax of No. 462 Squadron on many long-range missions. Several of these men were flight commanders of their
units; all performed their duties with conspicuous courage, ability
and steadfastness. And the same may be said of navigators like Flying
Officer Spence
Flying Officer N. Spence; born Rimu, Canterbury, 8 Nov 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF29 Sep 1940; presumed killed on 18 Sep 1942 while attempting to escape.
and gunners such as Flight Sergeant Piper,
Flight Sergeant C. C. Piper; born Ohakune, 3 May 1918; labourer; joined RNZAF1 Oct 1940; killed attempting to escape, 18 Sep 1942.
both of
whom were killed while attempting to escape after being shot down
in a raid on Tobruk.
A special word must be added about the men who flew with No. 162
Wellington Squadron for, in addition to bombing missions, they carried
out special flights to discover the strength and coverage of enemy
radar and radio systems as well as calibrating and checking our own.
Flying Officers Watson,
Squadron Leader R. J. Watson, DFC; born Waimate, 5 Jul 1916; law clerk; joined
RNZAF1 Dec 1940; killed on air operations 5 Mar 1944.
Hegman
Squadron Leader J. A. Hegman, DSO, DFC; born Auckland, 23 Jun 1916; farmer;
joined RNZAFMar 1941; killed on air operations, 15 Feb 1944.
and King
Flight Lieutenant N. R. King, DFC; born Christchureb, 16 Dec 1915; shop assistant;
joined RNZAFJan 1941.
each captained aircraft
of this unit. In September 1942 Watson and Hegman went to Malta
and in a period of twelve nights flew eight special missions over Sicily
and Italy. Three months later Hegman made another similar series of
flights, after which Sir Keith Park signalled: ‘162 Squadron aircraft
have done a first-class job for Malta by revealing the extent of enemy
R.D.F. cover in the Central Mediterranean. We are now able to route
our aircraft to achieve maximum of surprise and the minimum danger
of interception.’
Another sphere of operations in which New Zealanders were prominent was the attack on enemy ships at sea by Wellington torpedo-bombers. These aircraft, rather slow and vulnerable by day but with
the advantage of range, had been brought in to close the gap left by
the day patrols and thus prevent enemy ships getting across under
cover of darkness. Some of the Wellingtons acted as search aircraft.
Equipped with radar and carrying parachute flares, they patrolled the
shipping lanes nightly and on finding a target reported by radio; they
then ‘homed’ strike aircraft to the position and dropped flares around
the convoy to illuminate it for attack. Pilots of the strike aircraft had
no easy task for their torpedoes had to be dropped from about seventy
feet and on dark nights it was difficult to estimate this height and avoid
flying into the sea. Squadron Leader Harding
Wing Commander A. H. Harding, DFC; born Wellington, 1 Sep 1918; civil servant;
joined RAF7 Aug 1938; transferred RNZAF1 Jan 1944; commanded Special Duties
Flight, Malta, 1942; No. 353 Transport Sqdn, India, 1945.
and Flying Officer
Frame
Flight Lieutenant J. S. Frame, DFC; born Mosgiel, 26 Jul 1916; cost clerk; joined
RNZAFFeb 1941.
of No. 221 Squadron did good work as captains of search
aircraft, while Flight Sergeants A. G. Metcalf and Rusbatch,
Warrant Officer T. D. Rusbatch; born Oamaru, 19 Dec 1918; mechanic; joined
RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
Sergeants
Fraser
Flight Lieutenant W. A. Fraser, DFC, DFM; born Dunedin, 8 Dec 1921; sheep farmer;
joined RNZAFMay 1941.
and Hornung
Flight Sergeant W. Hornung, DFM; born Christchurch, 12 Sep 1918; customs clerk;
joined RNZAFDec 1940; killed on air operations, 10 Apr 1943.
each captained Wellingtons of No. 38 Squadron.
One night in September Metcalf and his crew, which included a Scot,
an American and two other New Zealanders, flew in a squadron attack
against a convoy off Tobruk. There were three merchant ships escorted
by no fewer than twelve destroyers, and as the Wellingtons approached
they were given a hot reception. And since it was a clear night with a
full moon the bombers were a good target. After some manoeuvring,
Metcalf flew in very low to launch two torpedoes at a large cargo
vessel and a few moments later two violent explosions were seen as
they struck almost amidships. But as the Wellington swept over the
convoy it met a veritable hail of anti-aircraft fire; one shell burst under
the starboard engine, ripped open the fuselage, put the wireless out of
action and wounded the operator, Flight Sergeant Cumming,
Flying Officer J. D. C. Cumming, DFM; born Christchurch, 2 Jun 1917; clerk; joined
RNZAF1937.
in both
arms and a thigh. The bomber, however, remained airborne and when
Metcalf had set course for base he went back and dressed Cumming's
wounds. Thereupon, although in considerable pain, Cumming set about
making repairs to the wireless; then having sent out the necessary
signals he assisted the navigator, who had also been wounded, to guide
the machine back to Egypt. Over base it was found that only one
undercarriage wheel could be lowered but Metcalf succeeded in making
a safe landing. Later the crew had the satisfaction of receiving confirmation that they had sunk the supply ship.
A remarkable experience was shared by Sergeant Joyce
Pilot Officer J. L. Joyce; born Wellington, 11 Jun 1918; warehouseman; joined
RNZAFJul 1940.
and the crew
of his Wellington bomber. They were struggling back after a raid on
shipping at Tobruk with one engine out of action, having jettisoned
everything moveable in the aircraft, when the strain proved too much
for the remaining engine and the pilot had to crash-land in the desert.
They were then some fifty miles south-east of Tobruk and well behind
the enemy lines. The landing was successful, no one was hurt, and when
daylight came the crew began to reconnoitre their position. Enemy
aircraft flew overhead but apparently did not see them; some wandering Arabs they met proved suspicious and unhelpful.
On the second day Joyce led a party to the coast road with the idea
of capturing some form of transport; two men hid in a burnt-out
lorry on one side of the road and two more behind a pile of stones on
the opposite side. Convoys passed by continually for two hours and
then, suddenly, at a moment when the road was otherwise clear, a
staff car appeared. As it drew near one of the men stepped out into the
road and held up his hand. The car stopped. Two German officers were
in the front seats with an orderly behind, but they were too surprised
to offer resistance in the face of a levelled revolver. The Germans were
relieved of their weapons and the British airmen took over the car and
drove back to their aircraft. There they picked up their companions,
loaded food and water, and set off eastwards across the desert. They
passed abandoned camps, narrowly avoided an old minefield, and were
making good progress the following day when the front axle broke.
Walking on they reached the vicinity of the German lines at night and
began making their way stealthily forward. At one point they found
themselves among parked German transport, and when one driver
leaned out of his vehicle to pass a remark they muttered a reply and
passed on safely. But shortly before dawn they blundered over an
escarpment into a forward post where they were promptly surrounded
and captured.
The next day they were put on a truck bound for a prison camp at
Tobruk, accompanied by two Italian drivers and two Italian guards,
each carrying revolvers. As they drove along there was a pleasant
exchange of smiles and gestures amidst which the aircrew made their
plan; and at the first stop they fell upon the Italians and disarmed them.
With one of the Italians still at the wheel the truck now drove eastwards, climbing towards Halfaya. Next morning they left the road and
began making their way across the desert but became lost; several
times the truck became bogged and the men, several of whom were
now showing signs of illness, had to dig it out. Eventually they came
across an abandoned dump which provided some food, including,
above all things, prunes, but these were most welcome as all the men
were now covered with desert sores. On the tenth day, while searching
for water, the party was fortunate to be surprised by two trucks from
the Long Range Desert Group and it was from its desert rendezvous
that the airmen, after handing over their Italian prisoners, were finally
picked up and flown back to their squadron. They had spent nearly a
fortnight in the desert.
* * * * *
With his supply lines under continual attack, Rommel was unable to
keep pace with the British build-up in Egypt. By mid-October 1942,
on the eve of the last and greatest battle of El Alamein, Montgomery
had a superiority of some two to one in men, tanks and guns; and the
disparity in fuel and ammunition stocks was even greater. In the air
the RAF had some 1200 aircraft based in Egypt and Palestine; the
Germans and Italians still disposed of nearly 3000 machines in the
Mediterranean area but they had barely 700 in Africa, and of these
little more than half were serviceable. General Alexander, British
Commander-in-Chief, regarded the coming battle with confidence.
‘We had the advantage over the enemy in men, tanks and guns and
we had a vigorous and enterprising field commander who knew well
how to employ these advantages. The Eighth Army was certainly the
finest and best equipped we had put in the field so far …. The Royal
Air Force had established such complete air superiority that enemy
aircraft were unable to interfere with our preparations, and Eighth
Army was kept supplied with regular air photographs of the enemy
disposition.’
In the great events which now unfolded, Desert Air Force was to
lead the way. According to the overall plan, its crews were to start
intensive attacks against the enemy air force four days before the
opening of the land battle, which was timed for 23 October. An earlier
opportunity, however, occurred which Coningham was quick to
seize. On the 6th, very heavy rain began to fall, and three days later
reconnaissance photographs showed the enemy landing grounds at
Daba under water and those at Fuka usable only with the greatest
difficulty. Coningham at once sent some 500 fighters and bombers
against these two groups of airfields, where their attacks destroyed
or put out of action some thirty enemy aircraft and did great damage
to airfield transport, dumps and gun positions. It was thus against
opponents already seriously weakened that Desert Air Force opened
its full offensive ten days later. Boston, Mitchell and Baltimore light
bombers with Hurricane, Kittyhawk, Spitfire, Tomahawk fighters and
fighter-bombers were then let loose in successive attacks, and by the
eve of the land offensive it was estimated that more than half of the
Luftwaffe's effective strength in the area had been disabled. Indeed,
such was the degree of air superiority achieved by Coningham's
squadrons that all the preliminary moves and dispositions for Montgomery's ground attack were made without the slightest interference
from the enemy either in the air or on the ground. The assaulting
infantry of 30 Corps, for instance, moved forward on the night of the
22nd and spent the whole of the next day in their slit-trenches in advance of our main positions without being in any way observed or
molested.
Shortly after dark on 23 October British guns opened up with the
heaviest barrage so far heard in Africa and under its cover our infantry,
including that of 2 New Zealand Division, moved forward all along
the line. Bostons laid smoke screens, Wellington bombers began continuous attacks on enemy guns and concentrations, while Hurricane
night fighters strafed troops and vehicles. With the dawn, Hurricane,
Kittyhawk and Spitfire fighters and Boston, Mitchell and Baltimore
light bombers went into action to operate at record intensity throughout the day, the light bombers making no fewer than fourteen consecutive attacks. To our infantry and tanks pressing forward through
gaps made in the enemy minefields the fighters gave complete immunity from enemy air attack, while the light bombers operated incessantly against the enemy ground forces, concentrating on their vehicles
and gun positions. The anti-aircraft fire, however, was often intense
and the light bombers suffered severely, six being shot down and ten
more seriously damaged. Enemy air activity on the other hand was
slight and Spitfires even patrolled high over his forward fighter landing
grounds without being seriously challenged.
Throughout the following days and nights, as hard fighting developed on the ground, Desert Air Force continued to operate at high
pitch. The airfields were clothed in a persistent cloud of dust kicked
up by the continual take-offs; and beneath it air and ground crews
alike toiled in a sweating, grimy fury of assault. Over the battlefield,
squadrons helped our troops to smash enemy counter-thrusts and on
several occasions even prevented Rommel's armour from assembling to
launch an attack. ‘On 28 October,’ writes Montgomery, ‘the enemy
made a prolonged reconnaissance of Kidney Ridge, probing it for
soft spots while two German Panzer Divisions waited in the rear. In
the evening they began to concentrate for attack, but Desert Air Force
intervened to such effect that the enemy was defeated before he had
completed his forming up.’
And when in turn our own troops drove forward, Coningham's
squadrons went ahead to weaken the opposition. On 2 November
fighters and bombers flew more than 600 sorties in support of a determined thrust by ground forces. The fighters also dealt effectively with
the Luftwaffe's belated efforts to join in the battle. On 28 October, for
example, an attempt by Ju87s to attack our forward positions was so
completely frustrated that the once formidable Stukas jettisoned their
bombs on their own troops. A few days later a formation of British
and American Kittyhawks intercepted thirty Ju87s escorted by fifteen
Me109s. The American fighters held the ring; the British fighters closed
in and shot down seven of the enemy without loss to themselves; and
again the Stukas jettisoned their bombs on their own troops.
Meanwhile our bombers had made things so difficult for the enemy
behind the front that Rommel was reduced to flying in petrol from
Crete—much to the disgust of the German bomber crews relegated to
these duties. Their supply ships were being regularly sunk; and three
consecutive attempts to bring convoys into Tobruk during the latter
part of October all ended in failure. Here is what happened to the last
convoy. Consisting of two merchant ships and a tanker, escorted by
four destroyers, it was first sighted by a reconnaissance Baltimore
north-east of Benghazi on the afternoon of 25 October. Wellingtons
duly found and attacked the ships during the night but were unable to
claim any definite success. The hunt therefore continued and the following day the convoy was again located off Derna, where it was carefully
shadowed until it came within range of our day torpedo-bombers. Two
attacks were then launched by Beauforts, which scored hits on the
tanker and damaged at least one of the merchant vessels. The same
evening Wellingtons followed up with an attack just outside Tobruk
harbour, where they hit the larger merchant vessel and caused a huge
explosion which covered the whole convoy with black smoke and
flying debris. More Wellingtons went out during the night but all they
could find was the tanker blazing furiously from stem to stern.
The fighting at El Alamein had lasted ten days when our reconnaissance aircraft began to return with reports of traffic streaming west
along the coastal road. The enemy had had enough and, under cover
of his artillery, had started to break away. Under pressure from our
ground and air forces, this withdrawal soon became a headlong rush
in which the Germans left many of the Italian troops without transport
in which to retreat or even to supply their daily rations of food and
water; and when they were finally cut off and abandoned, our aircraft
flew over dropping food and water to keep them alive until they could
be rounded up in prison camps.
Some 30,000 prisoners and immense quantities of equipment were
captured at El Alamein by our victorious troops. The subsequent pursuit, however, was hampered in its early stages by heavy rain. Montgomery's armour and vehicles, attempting to strike across the desert
and encircle the enemy, were bogged down for two days and Rommel,
with the main body of his army, got away to a good start. Thereafter
our ground forces seized every opportunity to round up the enemy,
but in the meantime the task of striking at his retreat fell mainly to the
RAF; General Alexander records that ‘during this phase when X Corps
was unable to come to grips with the enemy, the work of the Royal
Air Force was particularly valuable.’ Even so, opportunities for striking
heavy, and perhaps decisive, blows were missed at Fuka, Matruh, and
in the frontier passes where the congestion and confusion of the enemy
was greatest. This was partly due to flooded airfields restricting operations and also to the fact that a large part of the fighter force was held
back to cover our forward troops against enemy air attack.
However, although the RAF was not able to deliver a really concentrated attack at this stage it at least made things extremely uncomfortable for the enemy.
‘That night [7/8 November] enemy bombers flew non-stop attacks against the Sollum-Halfaya position …. Next morning there was still a 25-mile queue of vehicles waiting
to get through the passes. Traffic had moved very slowly … as a result of the incessant
attacks of the R.A.F.’
‘All that day [8 November] … formations of British bombers and close-support aircraft attacked the coast road and inflicted serious casualties on our columns ….’—The
Rommel Papers.
All the way from Daba to the Egyptian frontier
both fighters and bombers continued to attack his retreating columns,
and they kept it up right across Cyrenaica with squadrons leap-frogging
ahead to operate from landing grounds well forward-sometimes in
advance of the main army and protected only by armoured cars. One
particularly bold move was made by Coningham on 13 November
when he sent two squadrons of Hurricane fighters, completely by air
transport, to a landing ground about 180 miles east of Agedabia, ahead
and to the south of even our forward troops. To the great surprise of
the enemy, the Hurricanes suddenly appeared over his columns retreating round the bend of the Gulf of Sirte and inflicted considerable
damage—they also destroyed enemy aircraft on the ground at Agedabia
and Gialo.
During the pursuit it was, in fact, the fighter and fighter-bombers
that moved forward most rapidly for they were now highly mobile
and needed fewer supplies. Reconnaissance parties descended on the
desert airfields as fast as the enemy abandoned them and with the
help of forward troops prepared the way for ground staff to move in
and receive the squadrons. Many of the captured airfields presented a
different appearance from that left by the RAF during its retreat six
months earlier, when almost every aircraft had been got away. At
Daba, for example, there were about fifty enemy aircraft in various
stages of unserviceability, some shattered, a few only slightly damaged;
one Messerschmitt 109G was taken and soon its engine was running.
Piled in one corner and intended for salvage were the remains of
thirty-nine Messerschmitts and an unrecognisable heap of further
wreckage.
On 11 November, while the New Zealand Division was occupying the
frontier area, our fighters caught up with the enemy air force and had
a most successful day, shooting down aircraft not only over the frontier
but also on the enemy's own landing grounds far beyond at Gambut
and El Adem. Two days later our Hurricanes and Kittyhawks were
flying from the same two airfields bombing and machine-gunning
enemy transport in the Gebel Akhdar. By 16 November the main
British fighter force was operating from Gazala and during the next
two days it destroyed thirty-seven Ju52 transport aircraft by means of
which the enemy was trying desperately to relieve his fuel shortage.
When Montgomery's advanced troops entered Benghazi on 19 November, two. fighter wings were established at Martuba, and a week later
they moved forward to Msus to cover the next stage of the advance.
One important result of this rapid occupation of the airfields in the
hump of Cyrenaica was that our fighters could now cover ships bound
for Malta almost all the way from Alexandria. And towards the end of
November they saw a convoy safely through to the besieged island—
the first to reach Grand Harbour for three long months.
Meanwhile the bombers had began to move westwards carrying
some of their petrol and supplies forward from one landing ground to
another. In the first few days of their advance the ‘heavies’ came forward 200 miles from Palestine to Egypt and carried all their own
bombs; later on they moved another 300 miles forward into Libya.
Both light and medium bombers continued to strike at the retreating
enemy columns until these passed out of range. Tobruk and Benghazi
were also bombed to prevent their last-minute use by the enemy for
supply. Then as targets thinned out with our speedy re-occupation of
Cyrenaica, a large part of the Wellington bomber force was transferred
to Malta, where it would be well within range of enemy ports in
Tripoli and Tunisia.
Rommel's retreat from Alamein to El Agheila—nearly a thousand
miles in eighteen days—constituted a record for the course, but equally
remarkable was the way in which our land and air forces kept on the
enemy's tail despite most unfavourable weather, delays imposed by
mining, ingenious booby traps, the destruction of roads, and some
stubborn rearguard actions.
Each day units moved farther westwards, tumbling all their gear
into lorries and getting out again on to the crowded coast road, which
grew worse rather than better, for whole stretches of it had been
practically blasted away by bombs or washed out by floods. Tents were
abandoned and men stretched themselves to sleep on the ground behind whatever shelter a truck would provide. Bully beef became not
so much the staple as the only diet and a mug of hot tea often a
thing to be dreamt of. Fighter pilots returning from patrol settled in
circles to talk wistfully of tenderly cooked steaks and other delicacies.
But nobody cared very much for this was an advance. And day and
night as the enemy fled to the west they pursued him, striking at his
columns and destroying his vehicles and aircraft.
At Agheila, where naturally strong defensive positions existed,
Rommel put up a show of a fight so the Eighth Army paused to renew
its strength before launching an attack. Meanwhile Coningham's supporting fighter squadrons had cut out the coastal bulge at Benghazi and
moved across the inland desert to Antelat, Agedabia and El Haseiat.
From these airfields they now bombed and machine-gunned enemy
strongpoints, bases and landing grounds; their attack on Marble Arch
airfield was so continuous that the German fighters based there were
forced back to Nofilia, fifty miles to the west. Simultaneously our
bombers made heavy raids on the Tripolitanian ports.
Short of supplies and lacking adequate fighter cover, Rommel began
to retreat from Agheila on 13 December before he had been seriously
attacked by our land forces. Then Coningham once again turned his
squadrons on to the retreating enemy and Montgomery records: ‘They
did a great execution on the coast road.’ By the end of December the
enemy had withdrawn to prepared defences at Buerat. But the Eighth
Army followed up quickly and when, after a brief stand, Rommel's
forces again took to the road, our troops cheerfully renewed the pursuit, their vehicles now chalked with the words: ‘On to Tripoli’.
Desert Air Force kept up with the new advance, helped greatly by
an increasingly efficient air transport organisation. At Marble Arch
airfield two thousand land mines had to be lifted, but as soon as enough
safe space was available for landing and dispersal the squadrons were
signalled to advance. First to arrive was a fighter-bomber wing which,
with the aid of transport aircraft, made the move entirely by air. Fighters, ground crews, staff, equipment, bombs, petrol and oil all arrived
at Marble Arch in one combined operation on 18 December. The
pilots helped the ground crews prepare for action and within two hours
the first fighter-bombers were off to attack the enemy, who were taken
by surprise on the road to Sirte. They had thought that Marble Arch
would be out of action for a week, but it was in use by the RAF within
two days of its evacuation.
Such was the pattern and speed of forward movement by the
squadrons during the rest of the great advance. It was achieved in the
face of mounting difficulties; for the enemy tried every device to slow
up the fighter-bomber squadrons that were attacking his columns on
the roads westwards towards Tripoli. He resorted to still heavier
mining of airfields and their surroundings; he also began ploughing up
landing surfaces in the most fantastic manner, one craftsman in partic-
ularparticular creating enormous furrowed whorls of rich complexity and individual design until a burst of cannon fire from a fighter overhead turned
him from the plough; his touch was never seen again and his successors
worked more hastily on less elaborate lines.
The enemy's efforts availed him little since our forces simply made
new airfields. Ground parties went ahead in small convoys escorted
by RAF armoured cars, tracking over the desert to select the new sites.
The sand was levelled, soft patches were filled in with hard core, scrub
torn out and burnt, rocks and boulders shifted and a landing ground
carved out of the rough surface, often within forty-eight hours; then
a radio message brought the aircraft forward. Moreover, the technique
quickly improved. One landing-ground site, 1200 yards square, selected in the Bir Dufan area was serviceable in three hours, enabling fighter
formations to move forward in one hop of 140 miles; and at Tripoli
itself, where the airfield was most thoroughly ruined by the enemy,
three new grounds were carved out of the desert in twenty-four hours.
All along the way the Army gave invaluable help; at one point the New
Zealand Division detailed two thousand troops to pick up stones and
make a landing ground; and there were cases where a whole brigade
performed this service for the RAF
5 NZ Brigade Group lost 14 killed and 49 wounded under attacks by fighter-bombers
while picking up stones on one of these fields.
—striking evidence that inter-service collaboration was now complete.
* * * * *
For the fighter pilots these had been particularly eventful months.
In the weeks before the Alamein battle, they had fought and won a
notable victory over the Luftwaffe; thereafter they had maintained and
pressed home their advantage by aggressive action in the air and by
continual attacks on the enemy's landing grounds. And while thus
gaining and holding the initiative, they had been able to give invaluable help to their comrades on the ground. With the advance, units
had been continually on the move, operating from as many as a dozen
different landing grounds within a month; and it is worth remembering
that a squadron of aircraft with all the cumbersome necessities of petrol,
bombs, servicing equipment, signals and operations control, does not
move as easily as a squadron of tanks or armoured cars. Yet hot though
the pace was, the Desert fighter squadrons never fell behind and never
failed to carry out their assignments.
Some idea of the intense activity of these three remarkable months
may be gained from these entries in the operational diary of one Kittyhawk fighter wing:
L.G.91. October 31st. Two hundred sorties were made on armed recce,
ground strafing and bomber escorts. A Stuka party was intercepted and five
Ju 87s and two Me 109Fs destroyed, with six more probables. During other
operations three more Messerschmitts were destroyed, two more and one
Ju 87 probably destroyed, with eight others damaged. Fifty vehicles, eleven
ammunition dumps were also attacked and four lorries carrying petrol blew
up. Altogether this month, for the loss of fifteen pilots, forty-two enemy
machines have been destroyed, eighteen probably destroyed and twenty-two
damaged in the air. A further twenty-one aircraft were destroyed or damaged
on the ground.
L.G.101. November 8th. Fighter, bomber and strafing attacks against
enemy transport on the Sollum road were pressed home during the day,
twenty MT being destroyed and twenty-five damaged. ‘B’ party arrived at
L.G.106.
L.G.106. November 12th. Fighter sweeps over the Tobruk and Gazala
areas with little opposition from enemy aircraft. (Advance party left at 0500
hours and arrived Gambut satellite at 1630 hours.)
Gazala No. 2. November 17th. Successful fighter sweeps over Benghazi
and Magrun. In the air nine enemy machines, including two Me 109Fs and
one Ju52 Transport, were destroyed. On the ground eight more aircraft
and ten MT vehicles were destroyed, with another thirty-six vehicles, some
carrying troops, damaged. Three of our pilots are missing.
Martuba No. 4. November 20th. Patrols over our forward troops in
the Msus/Agedabia areas and reconnaissance flights as far as El Agheila.
Martuba No. 4. November 30th. Wing and Squadron parties left for
Antelat. Altogether during this month the wing has advanced a distance of
nearly 550 miles, much of the travel being by desert tracks, sometimes almost
impassable owing to bad weather yet squadrons continued to operate efficiently at all times due to keenness and unflagging energy of the ground staffs.
Belandah No. 1. December 10th. Long range strafing and bomber attacks
on enemy transport resulted in over thirty vehicles being damaged. A
successful bombing attack was also made at Nofilia airfield.
Marble Arch. December 19th. Advance party arrived. Airfield so thickly
sown with mines that it was impossible to locate squadrons on the edge of
the landing ground itself and as few personnel as possible were encamped
near the aircraft. Extensive fighter bomber attacks were made on the Sirte
road where twelve vehicles were destroyed and over one hundred damaged;
there were attacks on camps and anti-aircraft posts were also machinegunned. Two of our pilots are missing.
Alem-El-Chel. December 30th. Air activity on a greatly increaseds scale.
On two occasions patrols encountered hostile aircraft and dealt with them
effectively, eight Me being destroyed, one probably destroyed and two
damaged. We lost no aircraft.
Hamreiat East. January 14th. Fighter sweeps south of Tauorga and over
the Sedada area. Forty-eight aircraft escorted South African Bostons to
bomb Bir Dufan. Other aircraft carried out fighter-bomber raid on enemy
concentrations, west of Gheddahaia.
Tripoli. January 24th. Advance party arrived at Castel Benito 0500 hours,
occupied landing ground 0730 hours. Air party arrived am. Bombing raid
made on Ben Gardane aerodrome. Wing assumed control of airport pending
arrival of station personnel. Guard placed on Chianti Brewery pending
arrival of military authorities!
Squadron Leader J. E. A. Williams led one of the Kittyhawk squadrons of this wing during the Alamein battle. After a series of profitable
sorties, he was unlucky enough to be forced down behind the enemy
lines and taken prisoner; eighteen months later, in March 1944, he
took part in the famous escape from Stalag Luft III in Germany and
was one of the fifty officers shot on recapture.
Pilot Officer Fallows
Flight Lieutenant G. Fallows; born Eltham, 23 Jun 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF Mar
1941; prisoner of war, 26 Mar 1943.
and Sergeant Fourneau,
Flying Officer S. J. Fourneau, DFC; born Norsewood, 12 Apr 1919; orchardist; joined
RNZAF3 May 1941.
Flight Sergeants
Holmes,
Flying Officer N. C. Holmes; born Ashburton, 25 Dec 1919; labourer; joined RNZAFDec 1940.
R. H. Newton and Thomas
Flight Lieutenant B. H. Thomas, DFC; born Kaponga, 25 Sep 1918; clerk; joined
RNZAF21 Dec 1940.
flew Kittyhawks throughout
the whole period. They saw plenty of action. For instance, on the eve
of Alamein, Fallows and Thomas were flying with their squadron as
escort to Baltimores and Bostons attacking Daba; fifteen enemy fighters
dived on the Kittyhawks and in the dogfight which followed Fallows
shot down one Messerschmitt and Thomas damaged another. At the
height of the land battle, Newton's squadron flew forty-eight sorties
a day; in a sweep over Fuka they claimed four Ju87 dive-bombers and
two Messerschmitts for the loss of one pilot; Newton accounted for
one of the dive-bombers. While patrolling Benina airfield during the
advance to Benghazi, Holmes's squadron intercepted bombers carrying
in fuel for the German panzer units and shot down seven of them.
Holmes got a Heinkel.
Three Spitfire pilots who flew consistently in patrol and attack were
Flight Lieutenants M. R. B. Ingram and D. F. Westenra and Flying
Officer C. R. Hesketh. When his squadron intercepted a Stuka party
over Matruh, Ingram shot down one of the escorting Messerschmitts
and then went on to share in the destruction of a dive-bomber. A few
days later he destroyed another Messerschmitt over El Agheila. During
the advance to Tripoli, Hesketh's squadron intercepted enemy fighters
over Tamet and shot down five of them. Hesketh got two Macchi 202s;
bits and pieces fell from both machines and then they crashed into the
sea. During this air battle his squadron leader was forced to land on
the sea and Hesketh remained to mark and report the position, thus
enabling a speedy rescue to be made.
Flying with one of the Hurricane ‘tank-buster’ squadrons were Pilot
Officer McGregor
Flight Lieutenant P. N. McGregor; born Auckland, 25 Dec 1917; school teacher;
joined RNZAFDec 1940.
and Sergeant Paton.
Flight Lieutenant J. B. Paton; born Wellington, 25 Mar 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF19Feb 1941.
On the first day of the Ala-
meinAlamein battle, McGregor hit two tanks and shared another. A few days
later Paton shared in the destruction of more than a dozen lorries;
during the attack his Hurricane was hit, forcing him to land in the
desert, but he managed to get back to his squadron and resume flying
at once.
New Zealanders also flew with the bomber squadrons which played
a notable part both before and during the Alamein battle with their
continual raids on enemy ports and shipping, their attacks on airfields,
supply dumps and transport, and their bombing of enemy concentrations on the battlefield. Some of the men who did outstanding work as
bomber captains have been mentioned earlier in this chapter, but there
were now others like Squadron Leader McKay,
Group Captain J. J. McKay, DSO, DFC, DFC (US); born Nelson, 2 Jun 1916; salesman;
joined RAFOct 1937; permanent commission RAFSep 1945; commanded No. 178
Sqdn, Middle East, 1943; SASO, HQ Levant, 1944; commanded No. 240 Wing,
MAAF, 1944—45.
flight commander with
a squadron of long-range Liberators, Flying Officer A. B. Smith,
Flight Lieutenant A. B. Smith, DFC; born Veletta, Paraguay, 13 Mar 1914; accountant;
joined RNZAF19 Jan 1941.
who
captained a Wellington bomber of No. 40 Squadron, and Pilot Officer
O'Connor
Squadron Leader B. M. O'Connor, DFC; born Palmerston North, 28 Nov 1916;
architectural student; joined RNZAF13 Apr 1941.
and Sergeant Franich
Flying Officer L. B. Franich; born Dargaville, 2 Oct 1916; salesman; joined RNZAF23 Mar 1941.
of No. 37 Squadron, also flying
Wellington bombers. There were also navigators like Flight Sergeant
Blaikie,
Flying Officer I. A. Blaikie, DFM; born Christchurch, 23 Jul 1918; landscape gardener;
joined RNZAFDec 1940; killed on air operations, 5 Aug 1944.
wireless operators like Flying Officer Crawford
Flying Officer H. J. Crawford; born Dunedin, 21 Oct 1918; salesman; joined RNZAFJan 1941.
and Flight
Sergeant Temm,
Flying Officer A. W. Temm, DFM; born Auckland, 16 Sep 1918; farmer; joined
RNZAF1 Sep 1940.
and gunners like Flight Sergeants Campbell
Warrant Officer D. B. Campbell, DFM; born Dargaville, 8 Jun 1920; postman; joined
RNZAF13 Feb 1940.
and
Henderson.
Pilot Officer F. M. H. Henderson, DFM; born Putaruru, 6 Mar 1922; surveyor's
assistant; joined RNZAFJul 1940.
The bomber men saw their share of episode and incident. For example, Flying Officer Smith and his crew were returning from operations over Tripolitania one night when engine trouble forced their
Wellington down on the sea; the men spent eighty hours in a dinghy
before they finally paddled ashore; then some Arabs helped them to
return safely to their base. ‘We were about twenty miles off the coast
when we took to the dinghy,’ says Smith. ‘We drifted for a while hoping for rescue, then we started paddling southwards to make sure we
did not land in German territory. We divided ourselves in three shifts
rowing in pairs continuously until finally we reached the coast. We had
been drenched to the skin every night in the dinghy and got little
sleep. When we walked ashore, we staggered like drunken men.’
Flying Officer Earl
Squadron Leader R. C. Earl, DFC; born Bristol, England, 6 Jan 1920; clerk; joined
RNZAFMar 1941.
and his crew had a similar experience while
operating against Tripoli from Malta. Flying back one night through
storms and head winds, their Wellington ran out of fuel and they had
to land on the sea. Rough water and gusting winds did not prevent
Earl from putting the bomber down successfully and he and his crew
were picked up the same morning.
The faithful Wellington— ‘Good old Wimpey’ to its crews—was
still the mainstay of the RAF bomber force in the Middle East, but
some of our men flew American built aircraft with which certain units
were now equipped. For instance, with one Marauder squadron Flight
Sergeants Miles,
Flight Sergeant R. G. Miles; born Ashburton, 15 Apr 1922; clerical cadet; joined
RNZAFFeb 1941; killed on air operations, 27 Jun 1943.
Freeman,
Flight Lieutenant N. D. Freeman; born Dunedin, 19 Dec 1917; advertising salesman;
joined RNZAFMay 1941.
McMillan
Flight Sergeant N. A. McMillan; born Thames, 15 Jun 1916; fisherman; joined RNZAF1 Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 21 Feb 1943.
and Spedding
Flying Officer F. M. Spedding; born Christchurch, 11 Mar 1919; shop assistant; joined
RNZAF13 Apr 1941.
as pilots, and
Flying Officer Connell
Flying Officer B. T. Connell; born Christchurch, 19 Dec 1917; clerk; joined RNZAFSep 1940; killed on air operations, 15 Feb 1943.
as navigator, did good work in reconnaissance
and torpedo or bombing attacks against enemy ships. Connell had been
with the squadron when it was equipped with Blenheims and had been
prominent in operations both over the Western Desert and in night
intruder missions against German air bases in Crete. He was lost when
his aircraft went missing without trace during a sweep over the Aegean
Sea. The Marauders, three carrying torpedoes and six carrying bombs,
made one particularly successful attack on the harbour and port installations at Meles Bay in the Dodecanese. Torpedo aircraft scored hits
on two large freighters, which blew up and sank, while the bombers
hit dock buildings and straddled two smaller cargo ships with their
bombs. McMillan's aircraft was badly damaged by flak during this
attack and was one of the two aircraft which failed to return.
Sunderland flying-boats of No. 230 Squadron had continued their
long patrols over the Mediterranean, but in mid-February 1943 all
but three of them were sent south to cover the Indian Ocean approaches
to the Red Sea. Of the original group of New Zealanders who had been
with the squadron in the earlier years, only navigator Flight Lieutenant
R. P. Reid now remained to complete an exceptionally long tour of
over two years. Squadron Leader D. N. Milligan, who had earlier
completed an eventful period with Sunderlands, now became flight
commander in an Australian Baltimore squadron, operating against
enemy shipping in the Aegean Sea.
The work of the transport crews deserves special mention. From the
start at El Alamein, they flew forward petrol, water, bombs, ammunition and a variety of other stores, and on their return flights carried
back casualties to base hospitals; they also made it possible for fighter
squadrons to leap ahead in the desert with the minimum of delay.
Indeed, without their untiring and devoted efforts, things would have
been very different; for instance, there would often have been no
water at all for the men at the forward landing grounds. Here are a
few extracts from what one New Zealand transport pilot wrote of his
experiences at this time:
Everyone up forward was needing supplies and we were determined to
see they got them. So night and day the Hudsons plied back and forth with
their loads. Early on we helped establish a Hurricane fighter wing far ahead
in Cyrenaica to strafe the retreating enemy. Our C.O. went ahead to locate
the landing ground (no easy task) and set up some kind of flying control.
A few hours later I flew the first Hudson on to that stony, bumpy, strip,
and from then on Hudsons and Bombays landed in a steady stream with
their cargo of petrol, oil, tentage, ammunition and rations. The next day we
picked up the ground crews of the fighter wing. They piled in with all
necessary equipment. There was no weighing of anything; it was left to the
pilot's good sense to judge when he had enough on board. I fear many a
Hudson flew at figures which would startle its makers but there was never
an accident attributable to overloading. The Hurricane fighters went with
the transports that day and no time was lost in refuelling them on arrival.
They did their first operation the same afternoon.
… One day while flying low as usual, I spied two men vigorously
waving their shirts in a rather remote part of the desert. Thinking they might
be a couple of Huns or Italians who wished to be taken prisoner, I landed
on rocky ground about half a mile away. Armed with sten guns we went
towards the two waifs who presented a very ragged spectacle. It transpired
that one was the wireless operator and the other chap a gunner from a torpedo Wellington which had attacked a tanker in Tobruk the night before
the opening of the Alamein offensive. Their aircraft had succumbed to flak
and crashed outside Tobruk about dusk. The two lads had travelled one
hundred and seventy miles in nineteen days without water, except dew,
and only one old tin of bully beef. They were exhausted, so we lost no time
in getting them back to base.
As the advance continued, our transports were fully employed moving
other squadrons forward to their newly acquired bases or on to new ones
rapidly constructed by the Royal Engineers, whose efforts were little short
of brilliant. We moved ourselves forward to El Adem, near Tobruk, and
continued to operate from there—days and days of petrol to forward army
columns at Msus and bombs to Soluch near Benghazi in readiness for the
light bombers. Everyone laboured unceasingly, loading and unloading
aircraft, very often on two sorties per day.
On one occasion, leading a formation of five Hudsons with an escort of
Hurricanes, I set off to deliver eight tons of petrol to a forward army column
near Msus. There were thunderstorms and a high wind and I was unable
to locate the airfield, famous for its elusiveness to searching aircrews. I located the army column, however, which was passing by an unused Italian
air strip, so determined to set down there and deliver the goods. As it had
been in enemy territory only a few hours earlier, I had a sickening feeling
as the wheels touched down that the ground would be mined. But all went
well and we unloaded as the Hurricanes waited above. We restarted our
engines and were soon back over El Adem in a blinding sandstorm that
reduced visibility to less than one hundred yards.
Early in January came orders to move on from El Adem. We arrived at
Marble Arch in driving dust, and pitching camp was difficult. The desert
was too stony to take tent pegs so it was necessary to dig up sufficient rock,
to piles of which we anchored our flimsy homes. These air moves were
strenuous; not enough time, not enough trucks, not enough water, not
enough energy to last the long day. On one occasion one of our lads took
his Hudson down to land just in front of me. There was a healthy sort of
explosion as he touched off a mine and the rear of the aircraft disappeared
entirely. Tempers sometimes frayed but generally everyone managed at least
a show of cheerfulness. At night in the flapping mess tent by the light of
Hurricane lamps we ate our meagre fare, but there was a solid feeling of
success in this advance across the sands. Tripoli, an image of which everyone
conjured up in their minds, was soon going to fall.
New Zealand pilots like Squadron Leader R. J. Chisholm and Flight
Lieutenant R. D. Daniell had been among the pioneers of air transport
in the Middle East. Now, in this third year, some forty Dominion airmen flew with the squadrons of No. 216 Transport Group while others
held ground posts connected with air transport. Chisholm, for example,
was attached to Air Vice-Marshal Coningham's headquarters during
1942 as his Air Transport Officer and then took command of a flight;
Squadron Leader Neill,
Wing Commander J. R. Neill, m.i.d.; born Dunedin, 11 Feb 1913; army instructor;
joined RAF1937.
Squadron Leader Gow
Wing Commander I. R. Gow; born Wellington, 9 Aug 1917; joined RAFJun 1938;
transferred RNZAFJan 1944.
and Flight Lieutenant
Halse
Flight Lieutenant E. M. Halse; born Carterton, 31 Jan 1917; assistant theatre manager;
joined RAF6 Oct 1938.
were specialist navigation officers, while Flight Lieutenant
Stewart
Flight Lieutenant T. A. Stewart, DFC; born Dunedin, 1 Mar 1917; joined RNZAF17 Sep 1938; joined RAF9 May 1939; retransferred RNZAF14 Aug 1945.
commanded one of the staging posts set up to cover North
Africa—these staging posts were small units that were stationed at
remote airfields to service transport aircraft engaged on long flights
between base and forward areas.
Among the men who captained transport aircraft during the advance
to Tripoli were Flight Lieutenant Daniell, Flying Officers Gale
Flight Lieutenant D. Gale, DFC; born Dunedin, 28 Apr 1922; mechanical draughtsman;
joined RNZAFMay 1941.
and
New
Flight Lieutenant B. D. New, DFC; born Te Karaka, 30 May 1921; accountant; joined
RNZAF2 Mar 1941.
; they were later to do equally good work in Burma. Three more
captains who achieved a fine record were Flight Lieutenant Warden,
Flight Lieutenant G. W. Warden, DFC; born Auckland, 23 Jan 1913; metal worker;
joined RNZAF15 Feb 1941.
Flying Officers Norman
Flight Lieutenant J. H. Norman, DFC; born Tuatapere, 19 Oct 1919; sheep farmer;
joined RNZAF4 May 1941.
and Gibbs,
Flight Lieutenant C. M. Gibbs, DFC; born Wellington, 11 Jun 1921; engineering
student; joined RNZAFMay 1941.
each of whom was subsequently
to carry out many hazardous supply dropping missions over Sicily,
Italy and the Balkans. Valuable work was also done by Flight Lieutenant Ford
Flight Lieutenant J. P. Ford, DFC, AFC; born Ohakune, 16 Jun 1921; customs officer;
joined RNZAFMay 1941.
and by Flying Officer Culliford.
Flight Lieutenant S. G. Culliford, DSO, Virtuti Militari (Pol); born Napier, 18 Mar
1920; student; joined RNZAFMay 1941.
Brilliant successes in air supply operations were to be reserved for
other theatres of war, but it was in the Middle East that RAF Air
Transport made a firm beginning; indeed it was on the experience
gained in the desert campaigns and the difficulties there overcome that
the subsequent achievements were largely based. Meanwhile the efforts
of the transport crews did not pass unnoticed. Here is a tribute to one
phase of their work from 2 New Zealand Division:
Would you please convey to the air units involved the gratitude of the
New Zealand Division for their help and co-operation during the recent
fighting. The total of 420 cases safely evacuated by air from a position in
close proximity to the enemy and virtually behind his lines would appear
to be the largest undertaking of its kind so far in this theatre of war. By
cutting out a journey of one hundred and sixty miles over rough desert
tracks it must have saved many lives and spared our wounded a great deal
of suffering and so contributed to their earlier recovery. The work of the
pilots in landing all types of planes on improvised airfields under extremely
bad conditions was most praiseworthy. May I also express my gratitude
for the immediate response to all requests for assistance and supplies of
blood and other stores which contributed greatly to the solving of our
difficulties.
Operations Record, No. 216 Group, April 1943: letter from Colonel F. P. Furkert, NZ
Medical Corps.
* * * * *
At dawn on 23 January 1943, just three months to the day since the
Eighth Army had joined battle at El Alamein, the first British troops
entered Tripoli. At the same time RAF advanced parties took over
Castel Benito airfield outside the city. Together, our land and air forces
had now advanced over the desert for 1400 miles—a distance roughly
equal to that from Moscow to Berlin. It was a remarkable achievement
and one of which both soldiers and airmen, their clothes and bodies
alike stained with the desert dust, could be justly proud. Their ordeals,
as they were well aware, were far from ended but the Western Desert
over which they had fought so long lay behind them and a country of
green mountains lay ahead. And now as they prepared to move forward
into Tunisia, they carried with them memories of battles fought and
won, of the hardships and comradeship of desert life and also, perhaps,
of smaller things—a dispersal of tents in the brightness of the moon,
men's voices singing, the sandy flavour of bully beef and hot tea, the
sudden roar of engines warming up at dawn, the kicked-back wakes
of sand from spinning airscrews, the lift and climb into the desert air.
For the capture of Tripoli marked the end of a definite phase in the
African campaign. Eighth Army and Desert Air Force now became one
jaw of an enormous pincers that was closing on Rommel's forces; the
other was provided by the Allied forces under General Eisenhower
which had landed in the western Mediterranean and were now moving
forward across Algeria.
CHAPTER 5Algeria and Tunisia
THE landings in French North Africa took place on 8 November
1942, just sixteen days after the launching of the British offensive
at El Alamein. Both American and British forces were employed in this
great amphibious adventure, known as Operation torch, the aim of
which was to occupy bases in North-west Africa and then advance on
Tunisia to take Rommel's forces in the rear. For political reasons—the
attitude of the local French leaders towards the British was anything
but friendly—an American, Lieutenant-General Eisenhower, had been
chosen to command the expedition and United States forces were sent
ashore at Casablanca and Oran and initially at Algiers; but since British
commanders and troops had had fighting experience, the British component
was sent to the most easterly sector at Algiers in order to make
the first advance into Tunisia. Strategically it would have been desir
able to make the initial landings farther east but shortage of shipping
and concern for the security of communications precluded this; the
Royal Navy, which was providing surface escort, was also opposed to
any landings being made east of Algiers because of the danger from
German bombers in Sardinia and Sicily.
The huge convoys—in all some 500 merchant vessels and 350 war
ships were involved—that sailed from the United Kingdom and the
United States towards the end of October reached the Straits of Gibraltar
unscathed, thanks to the unfailing efforts of the Royal Navy and
Coastal Command and to the amazing success of our deception measures.
The latter misled the enemy more completely than we had dared
to hope. When the expedition was being assembled the Germans
thought we were preparing to invade Norway, and when it entered
the Mediterranean they assumed, as we intended, that it was bound for
Malta. But we could not count on this happening so elaborate measures
had been taken to safeguard the convoys during their passage.
Indeed, all our resources were at full strain. Far to the north aircraft
and warships watched the Denmark Strait and the exits from the
North Sea to guard against intervention by enemy surface ships. Others
covered the American approach from the Azores. Anglo-American
bombers attacked the U-boat bases along the French Atlantic coast and
Coastal Command aircraft patrolled to seaward.
Good fortune continued to favour the operation and convoys
reached the assault areas with the loss of only one ship. Aircraft from
Gibraltar did particularly valuable work by protecting them from air
and U-boat attack. Indeed, our air base at Gibraltar was the key to the
success of the whole enterprise. For without it our fighter squadrons
could not have been quickly established in North Africa to provide the
vital air cover. Moreover, in the early days of the invasion, ‘Gib’ airfield had necessarily to serve both as an operational base and as a
staging point for aircraft making the passage from England to the
African mainland. Several weeks before the actual assault it was crowded with fighter aircraft; and now every inch was taken up by either a
Spitfire or a can of petrol. Fortunately the need had been foreseen, and
during the previous months devoted efforts of the Royal Engineers had
not only transformed the landing strip into a fully-tarmacked runway
100 yards wide and 1400 yards long—nearly a third of it protruding
into the sea—but had also enlarged and resurfaced the dispersal areas
alongside until they could take some six hundred aircraft. The airfield
at Gibraltar, however, had one great disadvantage in that it lay on the
Spanish border. Enemy agents could thus clearly see and report all this
activity in the early days of November 1942; but fortunately, as already
indicated, they failed to discern its true import.
The opposition to the landings proved less formidable than was
expected. Algiers capitulated first; the port installations were found
intact, the authorities readily co-operated and labour was soon available;
and within a few hours RAF fighters were operating from the
airfields at Maison Blanche and Blida. During the succeeding days
further ports and bases in eastern Algeria were occupied by our troops
without serious opposition and the building up of the British First
Army was at once initiated in the Bone area. Stronger resistance was
encountered by the assault forces at Oran and Casablanca but in a short
time these ports, too, had been captured. Prompt action by General
Eisenhower led to a pact with the French political leader, Admiral
Darlan, and by 13 November all French resistance in Morocco and
Algeria had ceased,
The delicate and difficult moves in the political game are described by General Eisenhower
in his Crusade in Europe, Chap. XI.
Thus the expedition's first objective, a secure
North African base, was quickly achieved.
But the Germans, although completely surprised by our descent
upon North Africa, reacted swiftly. On the very morrow of the Allied
landings German fighters, bombers and transports, the latter loaded
with troops, began putting down at El Aouina, the airport of Tunis.
Here they received an official welcome; for representatives of Marshal
Pétain's French Government, which had tried hard to keep the Allies
out of Morocco and Algeria, now let the Germans into Tunisia un
opposed. On 10 November our reconnaissance detected 115 enemy air
craft on the ground at Tunis, while at the airfield of Bizerta air trans-
portstransports were beginning to arrive at the rate of fifty a day; and to this
traffic was soon added a continuous and much heavier stream of reinforcement
by sea. By the 16th, the enemy already had approximately
5000 troops available to provide a protective screen for his Tunisian
bridgehead, and detachments were soon pushed out to cover the
approaches to Bizerta and Tunis. During the next few days, the ports
and airfields at Sousse, Sfax and Gabes were occupied; by the end of
the month the enemy force in Tunisia amounted to some 15,000 fighting
troops with 100 tanks, 60 field guns and 30 anti-tank guns.
Meanwhile, practically the entire German Mediterranean Air Force
had been concentrated in Sardinia and Sicily and fighters and dive-bombers quickly established on Tunis airfields. Italian reinforcements
of fighters and torpedo–bombers were also sent to Sardinia and some
fighters joined the German contingent at Tunis. Thus, in spite of our
air and sea attacks on his shipping and the bombing of his ports, the
enemy rapidly succeeded in building a formidable force in northern
Tunisia and in occupying the entire eastern coast. It was clear that
Hitler had at last decided to give serious attention to Africa. All that
he had denied to Rommel when the latter stood some chance of success,
the German leader was now to pour into Tunisia. Far, far too late he
had seen the red light. If he failed to hold a bridgehead in North Africa
the Anglo–American armies might well walk into his ‘Fortress Europe’
by the back door.
Following the capture of Algiers, leading elements of the British
First Army under Lieutenant–General Anderson had pushed eastwards
in a desperate endeavour to overrun Tunisia before the enemy could
transport sufficient troops to the scene to defend it. The distance from
Algiers to Tunis is 560 miles; almost the whole of this region is very
mountainous and it was then served by only two winding roads and
an indifferent railway. Yet the First Army succeeded in advancing, by
28 November, to within sixteen miles of Tunis. But the race was already lost. At this point the Germans counter–attacked strongly with
their tanks and dive–bombers; the latter were able to operate from good
airfields only a short distance in the rear while our own fighter bases
were as yet out of range. After a very gallant effort General Anderson's
forces were therefore compelled to withdraw to Medjez el Bab, where
they proceeded to build up their strength and improve their communications.
American troops and armour now gradually moved up from the
west and French forces, which had thrown in their lot with the Allies,
took up positions on the southern flank. But the military and political
problems involved in the deployment of this Allied army with its diverse elements were acute; moreover, the appalling winter weather
which now set in, and the continuing supply difficulties, combined to
prevent the mounting of a new offensive. Indeed, for the next two
months, the Allied troops were to be kept fully occupied in consolidating
the northern sector and in beating off enemy attempts to get
round their southern flank.
Both British and American squadrons—the former organised in an
Eastern Air Command and the latter as Twelfth Air Force—were now
operating in North–west Africa. Fighters protected the supply ports
and patrolled over the forward areas; fighter–bombers helped the advancing ground forces and both medium and heavy bombers attacked
enemy airfields and landing grounds in Tunisia. Transport, maritime
reconnaissance and photographic aircraft also played their part. But,
as with the Army, there were many difficulties during the initial stages
which prevented full–scale operation of all the available units. The
build–up of equipment, stores, services and maintenance facilities was
slow, since almost everything had to be brought in by sea. More particularly, the absence of good airfields, the poor communications and the
lack of any real integration of the different national forces, all tended
to reduce the efficiency of the air effort. Most of the landing grounds
did not have hard runways and they were soon turned to quagmires
by the heavy winter rains. Efforts were made to lay steel matting but
some 2000 tons of this—or two days' carrying capacity of the entire
railway system in the forward area—were required for a single runway,
and even when laid the steel matting tended simply to disappear into
the mud.
The lack of airfields soon proved the greatest handicap to providing
adequate support for the forward troops. Our advanced lines might
be only a score of miles outside Tunis but our nearest airfield was still
at Souk el Arba, sixty miles farther back. On it were soon crowded—
apart from American aircraft which followed later—five squadrons of
Spitfires; and maintenance facilities were such that, among them, the
five squadrons could rarely muster more than forty–five serviceable
aircraft. The small RAF bomber force, consisting of four squadrons of
Bisleys, had to operate until the early days of December from as far
back as Blida, outside Algiers. The enemy, on the other hand, had the
advantage of concrete–surfaced airfields close to the battle area, and to
which reinforcements could be flown from Sicily in thirty minutes in
any weather. Consequently, in the first weeks of the campaign, our
advanced troops were exposed to attacks from enemy dive–bombers
which our fighters, with their bases so far back, were unable to prevent;
indeed, up to mid–December, the Spitfires could only spend five or ten
minutes of their patrol over our forward lines. Fortunately the enemy
air attack, as General Alexander has recorded, was not on a serious
scale when judged by the standards of later campaigns. But to inexperienced troops, it seemed terrific when there were no friendly
fighters close at hand to be whistled up to drive off the offenders, and
when there was also a shortage of light anti–aircraft ground weapons.
At the time there was criticism of the lack of air support. Some of it
was perhaps justified, but many of the critics failed to appreciate the
very great difficulties under which the air forces were labouring and
the valiant efforts which were, in fact, being made to help the ground
forces. For example, one day early in December, No. 18 Squadron,
RAF, was ordered to bomb the enemy landing ground at Chouigui.
Eleven Bisleys duly prepared to take off. One was held back by a burst
tyre and another crash–landed after a few minutes' flight, but the remaining nine got under way successfully. Their task, the crews knew,
would be far from enviable; the landing ground would be hotly defended, but since our Spitfires were fully occupied trying to protect our
troops, the mission would have to be flown without escort; they would
have no support other than a fighter sweep over the general area of the
operation. As the Bisleys approached the target area their pilots saw a
few of our Spitfires engaged high up with a swarm of Messerschmitts.
Then the Germans dived down—some fifty or sixty of them—and
within a few seconds our crews were fighting for their lives. One by
one the Bisleys were hacked down until only four remained; these four,
still maintaining formation, managed to reach our lines only to be shot
down within sight of our troops.
Almost the last to survive was the aircraft of Wing Commander H. G. Malcolm, who led
the raid. For his determination in trying to fight his squadron through to its objective
he was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross. His name is commemorated in the
Royal Air Force Malcolm Clubs, the first of which was opened some months later in
Algiers.
During the second month of the campaign things gradually began
to improve. New landing grounds were under construction in the
forward area and others were being provided with hard all–weather
runways. The United States Twelfth Air Force, handicapped by its
initial deployment so far west, was now playing a major part in the
Tunisian battle. Some American fighters were based at Souk el Arba
behind the main battlefront in the north, while others were supporting
their troops moving forward in the centre and south. And American
long–range bombers were stepping up their attacks on Tunisian ports
and airfields. The effort of Eastern Air Command also increased steadily. During the first half of January, its RAF Spitfires averaged over
one hundred sorties a day and thereafter, with the arrival of reinforcements, this figure was doubled. And with this mounting Allied air
effort the co–operation between Army and Air Force grew closer and
more satisfactory. ‘Good–will there was in plenty,’ writes General
Anderson, ‘and with increasing experience and, above all, improved
means of inter–communication, the situation improved. By mid–March
1943, liaison was excellent; we were working as one team and the air
support given to First Army in the last stages was intimate, immediate
and intensely powerful.’
The failure to capture Tunis in the first rush was a serious setback to
Allied hopes and plans. All the same, the situation developing in
North Africa at the end of 1942 gave the enemy little cause for satisfaction. For, in addition to the Allied invasion of Tunisia from the
west, British land and air forces under Montgomery and Coningham,
following their victorious advance from Egypt, were now closing in
from the east. With their capture of Tripoli, Rommel had been forced
back to the Mareth Line, a belt of fortifications built by the French to
protect the Tunisian frontier; by mid–February 1943, advanced troops
of Montgomery's Eighth Army had come up with the enemy rearguard at Ben Gardane. Bitterly contested battles might remain to be
fought but the eventual link–up of the two Allied armies and their
final conquest of Tunisia seemed reasonably certain.
For the better co–ordination of the Allied effort, General Eisenhower
now assumed overall command in North Africa; General Alexander
became his deputy and took charge of all the land forces. At the same
time a new Mediterranean Air Command embracing all the Allied air
forces in Tunisia, Malta and Tripolitania was established under Air
Chief Marshal Tedder; and within this command there was created,
under the leadership of Air Vice–Marshal Coningham, a single North-west African Tactical Air Force to lend close support to both the Army
and Navy. Like other subordinate air commands, this was a genuine
Anglo–American entity since it comprised not only the British Desert
Air Force and RAF units from Eastern Air Command, but also the
tactical squadrons from the United States Twelfth Air Force. Similarly,
British and American maintenance units were now combined to form
an Air Service Command. This mingling of British and American units
and of their officers and men at all levels was a novel and remarkable
feature at this period of the war; but it soon proved wholly beneficial.
Indeed, it was here in North Africa that British and American servicemen first came to know each other, and by their mutual understanding
and respect to lay the foundations for Anglo–American co–operation
in the later campaigns.
With the air forces the effect of the reorganisation was immediate
and profound. Besides putting at the top men with the requisite ability
and experience, it made possible that high degree of flexibility which
characterises correctly organised air power. Under Tedder's direction
the air forces in the Mediterranean could now be concentrated to the
confusion of the enemy at decisive points–whether at the fronts or
along the lines of land and sea communications, or far back among the
airfields, ports and bases of Italy. In all circumstances the total force,
no longer tied down to particular geographical sectors, could be directed without argument or delay according to a single coherent plan.
The fight for Tunisia began in earnest during February 1943. And
as might be expected, it was Rommel who struck first—against the
American forces that had moved into central Tunisia and, by occupying
Gafsa, threatened his link with von Arnim's army in the north. Employing his formidable 21 Panzer Division, he drove the Americans back and
broke through the Kasserine Pass. Succeeding wonderfully at first, this
thrust looked like taking our whole northern front in the rear, but it
soon met with such fierce opposition that Rommel was compelled to
withdraw. Our tactical air forces under Coningham played an important part in forcing this withdrawal, but the decisive factors were the
resolute action taken by General Alexander and the stubborn defence
offered by our ground forces. Rommel then turned his armour south
and, on 6 March, flung it against Montgomery's Eighth Army at Medenine; but in the face of solid resistance on the ground and persistent
attack from the air, this assault met with instant failure and the enemy
force retired, discomfitted, leaving behind no fewer than fifty–two
tanks. This battle of Medenine was Rommel's last throw and shortly
afterwards, a sick and disillusioned man, he flew back to Germany.
Meanwhile, on the northern sector in Tunisia, attacks by von Arnim's
army had been frustrated after some hard fighting in which the tactical
air forces played a prominent part. During the first five days of March
one RAF group flew over 1000 sorties against ground targets; frequent
attacks both by fighters and bombers on landing grounds ruthlessly
cut down the activity of the German fighter force; constant raids behind
the enemy front also played havoc with his transport and supplies.
The initiative on land now passed to the Allies and in mid–March
their armies began to close the ring. Progress on the northern front
was at first slow, but in the south a spectacular victory was achieved
by turning the Mareth Line. This move, in which the New Zealand
Division played a prominent part, was made possible by the fact that
our domination of the skies was now almost complete. Both before
and during the assault at Mareth, attacks on enemy airfields kept the
Luftwaffe virtually grounded and our troops were able to move forward
unmolested from the air. The desert squadrons also played an important part in the land battle. When the outflanking force was held up
south of El Hamma—the crucial obstacle was the narrow gap between
the Djebel Tebaga and the Djebel Melab, only four miles wide and
bristling with enemy guns—a truly formidable air blitz was laid on
against the enemy positions. Three squadrons of escorted bombers
opened the attack, coming in very low by an unusual route and achieving complete surprise. From then on two and a half squadrons of
Kitty–bombers, briefed first to bomb individual positions and then to
shoot up the enemy gun teams, were directed to the area every fifteen
minutes. Half an hour after the first bomb fell the New Zealand infantry
went forward, preceded by a creeping barrage which gave pilots an
unmistakable bomb line; and all the time Spitfires patrolling high above
kept the air clear of the enemy. More than once the enemy attempted
to mass his tanks, but on each sign of this Hurricane ‘tank–busters’
swept in and broke up the concentration. ‘The battlefield and the rear
areas were covered with smoking and burning vehicles,’ writes Montgomery's Chief of Staff. ‘Never before had our Desert Air Force given
us such superb, such gallant and such intimate support.’ And so it was.
Within just over two hours the supporting squadrons, at a cost of
eleven pilots, had flown 412 sorties; and the enemy defenders, disorganised and demoralised, had yielded the key points to our troops.
Our armour passed through the bottleneck virtually unscathed and the
Mareth Line was turned.
The Eighth Army thereupon followed up rapidly to Wadi Akarit,
another position of great natural strength, but here the enemy stay was
brief. By the end of April his forces, fiercely attacked on the ground
and mercilessly hammered from the air, were in full retreat. Not until
they had covered the entire coastal plain and reached the high ground
beyond Enfidaville, more than 150 miles to the north, did they stop.
Important airfields now fell into our hands, notably the group near
Kairouan, which brought the Allied tactical air forces in North Africa
within striking distance of any target in that part of Tunisia which
still remained to the enemy. At the same time the Eighth Army was
able to join up on the left with the American troops, so linking the
Allied ground forces in one continuous front.
All this while the medium and heavy bombers, including those now
based at Malta, had continued to attack the ports and airfields of
Tunisia, Sardinia, Sicily and southern Italy. In conjunction with the
Coastal Air Force, they were also waging a determined campaign
against enemy convoys. Until mid–February many enemy vessels were
able to slip across the narrow seas between Sicily and Tunisia under
cover of thick weather, but with clearer skies such attempts became
increasingly hazardous. During March, in spite of fierce opposition
in the air, British and American aircraft sank no fewer than twenty
German and Italian ships making for Tunisia. At the same time our
own vessels, protected by the vigilance of our air and naval forces,
were able to carry supplies to Bone and Tripoli almost with impunity.
By the beginning of April, the bombing of Tunis, Bizerta and the
south Italian ports, coupled with increasing success against convoys
at sea, had brought the enemy supply system to the verge of collapse.
In these desperate straits he began to make still greater use of air transport, flying a daily average of something like 150 sorties on the routes
to Tunisia. It availed him little since our air forces played havoc with
this traffic. On 5 April, for example, twenty–six German aircraft were
destroyed in the air and thirty–nine on the ground, besides damage to
another sixty–seven; the Italian losses are unknown. A few days later,
British and American fighters sweeping over the Narrows shot down
twenty–four German Ju52s and fourteen escorts; many of the transports were carrying fuel and they blew up in spectacular fashion. There
was further slaughter on 18 April when RAF Spitfires and American
Warhawks intercepted about one hundred Ju52s under escort near
Cape Bon. Within a few seconds the shore below was strewn with
blazing wreckage, fifty–two German machines being destroyed for the
loss on the Allied side of seven. The next day our fighters massacred
yet another formation and thereafter the enemy confined his transports
to minor operations by night. On 22 April, however, he rashly committed a consignment of petrol to Messerschmitt 323s—huge six-engined glider–type aircraft. Intercepted over the Gulf of Tunis by
large forces of Spitfires and Kittyhawks, the enemy formation was
mown down almost to the last aircraft. In less than three weeks, according to German records, well over one hundred German transport
aircraft had been destroyed for the loss of thirty–five aircraft on our
side. Coming hard on top of an equally prodigal expenditure at Stalingrad, this was a grievous blow to the enemy transport fleets as well as
to their hopes of staving off defeat in Tunisia.
The last phase of the land campaign opened on 20 April with an
attack by the Eighth Army at Enfidaville. The enemy positions were
captured after hard fighting, but the mountains beyond proved a more
difficult proposition and the advance slowed down. This mattered
little, however, since General Alexander had already planned to deliver
his main blow against Tunis on the northern sector, where the First
Army along with the Americans and French had been steadily pressing
forward during the past month despite repeated counter–attacks. Here,
on 5 May, the final advance began under close and heavy support from
Coningham's tactical air force, which flew over one thousand sorties a
day—bombers and fighter–bombers attacking troop positions and
fighters maintaining complete mastery over the battlefield. British
forces, including Eighth Army formations transferred to this sector,
quickly broke through enemy defences in front of Tunis and then,
after occupying the town, wheeled east and broke through strong
positions at Hammamet to reach the Cape Bon peninsula. Meanwhile
American forces had smashed their way into Bizerta. Within a week
the enemy had no intact formations, except those facing the Eighth
Army, and these were now taken in the rear. One by one units surrendered until, on 13 May, the whole force was ordered to lay down
its arms.
In addition to vast quantities of arms and equipment, almost all the
enemy troops remaining in Tunisia—just over 250,000—were now
captured; for when the remnants of the German and Italian armies
reached the beaches on the Cape Bon peninsula, they found no boats—
nor any aircraft either. In the face of our air and naval control of the
narrow seas, Hitler and Mussolini had wisely decided not to attempt a
‘Dunkirk’. Had they done so they would have immediately brought
into operation an elaborate series of counter–measures already devised
by our air and naval commanders under the rather appropriate code-name ofretribution. In the circumstances our air forces were able to
turn their attention to targets in Sicily, Italy and Pantellaria in preparation for the next stage in Allied strategy.
So ended the war in Africa—a war which, though the numbers engaged were small compared with the vast armies on the Russian front,
was yet of profound strategic significance. For the whole of the southern coast of the Mediterranean had been cleared of the enemy and its
northern shores were now open to assault; Allied shipping, although
still not entirely immune from air and U–boat attack, could now move
more freely between Gibraltar and Alexandria. Moreover, the long
years of fighting in North Africa had broken the spirit and power of
Italy, and although the effect on Germany was less severe, it was quite
considerable; she had also lost some of her best fighting troops and
her air force had been badly mauled. On the Allied side much had been
learnt that was to be of the greatest value in the future, especially the
technique and experience of co–operation between the two great nations
and between their land, sea and air forces. There had also emerged not
only skilled and seasoned Allied soldiers and airmen, but also highly
competent Allied staffs and commanders, all of whom were soon destined to win a campaign of far greater import in Europe. Victory would
certainly not have crowned that campaign so swiftly or at such little
cost but for the lessons learned amid the rocks and sand of North
Africa.
During the long campaign the Royal Air Force, including men and
squadrons from the Dominion air forces, had played a vital, perhaps a
decisive part. It had won the freedom of the skies against fierce opposition; it had kept the enemy short of supplies while safeguarding our
own; it had preserved the Eighth Army in retreat and speeded it in
advance. At every stage from the first attack on Italian landing grounds
that morning in June 1940 to the last raid at Bou Ficha on 12 May 1943,
the aircrews and ground staff of the RAF had shown indomitable spirit.
And as Tedder told them in his final Order of the Day, they had now
‘by magnificent team work …. together with their comrades on land
and sea thrown the enemy out of Africa.’ They had ‘shown the world
the unity and strength of air power’ and after ‘a grand job well finished
they faced their next task with the knowledge that they had thrashed
the enemy and were determined to thrash him again.’
* * * * *
Through these months when the enemy was being finally driven
out of Africa, New Zealanders shared in all phases of the air activity;
they flew as fighter pilots, as bomber captains and aircrew, with the
maritime reconnaissance squadrons and as pilots of photographic,
transport and air–sea rescue machines; they also flew some of the
‘special duty’ aircraft which, among other things, continued to supply
the resistance movements in southern Europe, especially the gallant
band of patriots fighting under Marshal Tito in Yugoslavia. There was,
moreover, a small group of men, about ninety in all, who did valuable
work in various ground duties, notably as radar mechanics and fitter-armourers. By mid–1943 a total of 750 New Zealand airmen had seen
service with the RAF in the Middle East, of whom 115 had lost their
lives.
A relatively large number of men held positions of leadership during
the North African campaign and it is particularly interesting to record
that two of the main Allied operational commands were, in fact, held
by Dominion airmen: Air Vice–Marshal Coningham directed the
North–west African Tactical Air Forces and Air Vice–Marshal Park was
in control of all RAF operations from Malta. During the battle for
Tunisia, Coningham worked in close collaboration with General
Alexander, commander of the Allied ground forces, and in his despatch
Alexander pays high tribute to Coningham's handling of the tactical
air operations and to the invaluable support that his formations gave
to the Army. Sir Keith Park's conduct of air operations from Malta,
both in support of the invasion of French North Africa and the advance
of the Eighth Army into Tunisia, earned equal praise.
Nine of the fighter and bomber squadrons which fought in North
Africa were commanded by New Zealanders. Experienced pilots also
occupied senior posts in the various air commands, notably Group
Captain H. D. McGregor at Headquarters Mediterranean Air Forces,
Group Captain E. W. Whitley in charge of a fighter group, Group
Captain Anderson
Group Captain L. H. Anderson; born Lower Hutt, 5 Aug 1910; joined RAF1930;
permanent commission 1936; commanded No. 217 Sqdn1940; commanded No. 1
EFTS, South Africa, 1941; CFI No. 4 SFTS, South Africa, 1941–42; commanded
Wings in Middle East, 1942–43; SASO No. 201 Group, Middle East, 1943; commanded
No. 247 Wing, Middle East, 1943–44; RAF Station, Berka, 1944; No. 4 Combined
Air Observation, Navigation and Bombing School, South Africa, 1941–44; SASO
No. 25 Group, 1944–45.
commanding a wing in the Coastal Air Forces,
and Group Captain Knight
Group Captain M. W. B. Knight, DFC, Legion of Merit (US); RAF; born Dannevirke,
8 Jul 1916; joined RAF1935; commanded No. 485 (NZ) Sqdn1941; Operations Staff, HQ
NWAAF, 1943; Planning Staff, HQ MAAF, 1944; commanded RAF Stations,
Ismailia and Ramat David, 1945.
controlling fighter operations at Head-
quartersHeadquartersEastern Air Command; and in the administrative and supply
organisation there were men like Wing Commander Arnott,
Wing Commander A. E. Arnott, OBE; born Palmerston North, 19 Feb 1917; clerk,
P & T Dept; joined RAFAug 1939; permanent commission RAFSep 1945.
serving
as Senior Equipment Officer for a fighter group; Wing Commander
Willcox,
Wing Commander H. L. Willcox; born Invercargill, 7 Nov 1907; joined RAF1935;
permanent commission 1938; staff duties, DGMS, Air Ministry, 1940–42; SMO No. 153
Wing, 1942; SMO No. 17 Group, 1942; DPMO, AHQ North Africa, 1943–44;
DPMO, HQ Med. and ME, 1944; DPMO, HQ Coastal Command, 1945.
a medical officer in Eastern Air Command, and Flight Lieutenant Heazlewood,
Squadron Leader C. R. Heazlewood, MBE; born Dunedin, 19 Dec 1914; fitter and
turner; joined RAFDec 1939.
engineer officer at an important maintenance unit.
Dominion airmen were in action during the initial stages of the invasion of French North Africa. Flying Hudsons on anti–submarine
patrols from Gibraltar and subsequently from Blida in North Africa,
Squadron Leader Patterson,
Squadron Leader I. C. Patterson, DSO, m.i.d.; born Auckland, 19 Aug 1917; farming
and electrical engineering; joined RAF15 Mar 1939; transferred RNZAF1 Dec 1943;
Atlantic Ferry 1940–41; Operations Staff, Azores, 1943–44.
Flight Lieutenant Holmes
Squadron Leader H. G. Holmes, DFC and bar; born Rangiora, 31 Aug 1916; farmer;
joined RAFJun 1939
and Flying
Officers Ensor,
Wing Commander M. A. Ensor, DSO and bar, DFC and bar; born Rangiora, 5 Jan
1922; shepherd; joined RNZAFJul 1940; commanded No. 224 Sqdn 1945.
Mitchell
Wing Commander I. R. Mitchell, DFC; born Napier, 24 Jun 1916; farmer; joined
RNZAFDec 1940.
and Poole
Flight Lieutenant H. A. Poole, DFC; born Invercargill, 6 Mar 1920; clerk; joined
RNZAF13 Feb 1940.
had particularly good hunting.
Just before the actual landings, Poole attacked two U–boats in the
course of a single patrol; Patterson shared in the destruction of another
and Ensor blew one to pieces off Algiers in what has been described
as the most spectacular U–boat attack of the whole war. Holmes made
five damaging attacks in thirteen days. Indeed, the effort and achievement of these men during the first month were truly remarkable and
they resulted in Ensor and Patterson being made members of the Distinguished Service Order, and Holmes, Poole and Mitchell receiving
the Distinguished Flying Cross.
Details of their exploits have already been recorded in Volume I, Chapter 14.
Long–range Hurricane fighters also helped to escort convoys. One
day Sergeant Ashworth
Flying Officer C. P. Ashworth; born Eketahuna, 25 Sep 1921; clerk; joined RNZAFJun 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Aug 1944.
of No. 253 Squadron sighted a Ju88 attempting to attack some of our ships. He dived on to its tail and opened fire,
then had to break away as bits and pieces flew around him. Both engines of the bomber caught fire and it crashed into the sea. Ashworth's
squadron was among the first to operate from North Africa; the
Hurricanes actually flew into the airfield at Maison Blanche within an
hour of its capture and at once continued their long–range fighter
patrols over shipping in the approaches to Algiers and along the coast.
Squadron Leader Carlson
Wing Commander D. C. Carlson, DFC; RAF; born Owhango, 4 Oct 1912; joined
RAF1937; commanded No. 154 Sqdn1942; RAF Station, Bone, MAAF, 1944; staff
duty, Operations, AHQ Levant, Middle East, 1945.
led one of the first Spitfire squadrons that
flew in from Gibraltar to operate in defence of bases and ports and
subsequently in support of General Anderson's First Army. Carlson
and his pilots had already done good work with Fighter Command in
the United Kingdom and they set about their new duties with zeal and
confidence; in their first fortnight's operations they claimed nineteen
enemy bombers destroyed, three more probably destroyed and six
damaged. It was during this period that Flying Officer ‘Paddy’ Chambers,
Flight Lieutenant H. W. Chambers, DFC; born Opotiki, 24 Feb 1915; farmer; joined
RNZAFNov 1940.
who flew with Carlson, performed one of the outstanding individual feats of the campaign by shooting down four enemy bombers
in a single sortie. This was on 28 November when he was patrolling
over a convoy off Algiers. Five Italian Savoia 79s approached to bomb
the ships, but Chambers came in from above and behind and attacked
four of them in turn before his aircraft was damaged and ammunition
exhausted; the fifth Italian bomber was last seen scurrying out to sea.
Two other Spitfire pilots prominent in the early weeks of the campaign were Flight Lieutenant Henry
Squadron Leader D. J. V. Henry, DFC; born Invercargill, 5 Feb 1916; clerk; joined
RNZAFJan 1940; prisoner of war, 10 Feb 1945.
and Flying Officer Porteous
Squadron Leader J. K. Porteous, DFC; born Auckland, 4 Nov 1916; salesman; joined
RNZAF9 Apr 1940; commanded No. 122 Sqdn 1944.
with No. 93 Squadron; Henry served as flight commander. The work
of Flight Lieutenant Buchanan
Wing Commander R. C. Buchanan, DFC, Air Medal (US); born Mataura, 15 May
1921; civil engineering cadet; joined RNZAFApr 1941; commanded No. 682 (PR)
Sqdn 1944–45; Wing Leader No. 336 PR Wing, 1945.
who flew a photographic Spitfire also
deserves mention. His highly successful flights over North Africa won
him the United States Air Medal, the first such award made to a British
pilot in this theatre.
Squadron Leader Player
Wing Commander J. H. Player, DSO, DFC; born Auckland, 13 Jul 1914; joined
RAF1937; commanded No. 255 Sqdn 1942–43; Personal Staff Officer, AOC–in–C,
AEAF, 1944–45; staff duties, DG of P, Air Ministry, 1945; died of injuries received in
flying accident, 8 Aug 1947.
achieved a fine record of service with No.
255 Squadron. This was one of the two squadrons of twin–engined
Beaufighters that arrived from England a few days after the landings to
provide night defence of our ports and bases in Algeria. Shortly after
No. 255 Squadron's arrival, Player took a detachment to operate from
the landing ground at Souk el Arba, just over the Tunisian border and
close to our front line. The detachment had practically no ground staff
at first and a large amount of the normal maintenance work had to be
done by the pilots and observers themselves. Yet Player kept his Beaufighters flying and in the first fortnight they claimed the destruction of
sixteen enemy aircraft. Player himself had an exceptional sortie one
night early in December when he shot down three bombers within an
hour; one of them was a Heinkel and the other two were Savoia 79s.
With the advent of winter—and it was particularly bitter in North
Africa that year—the night flying tended to become a long, cold, unrewarding task, and the Beaufighters, each weighing ten tons, were
not easy to fly from the short bumpy runways where the flare–paths—
flickering oil lamps shielded by petrol tins—were virtually invisible
from 500 feet. Moreover, the mountains rising steeply inland did not
allow for much inaccuracy in navigation, but the squadron continued
to exploit its advantage of surprise and the ports of Algiers and Bone
were soon safe by night.
Among the fighter pilots who flew tactical reconnaissance in support of
the First Army's advance into Tunisia were Flying Officers Neill
Flight Lieutenant K. P. F. Neill, DFC; born Christchurch, 17 Nov 1920; shepherd;
joined RNZAF3 Jan 1941.
and Short
Flight Lieutenant S. A. H. Short, DFC; born Auckland, 17 Jun 1916; railway porter;
joined RNZAF23 Mar 1941; prisoner of war 2 Feb 1943; escaped and reached neutral
territory 4 Apr 1944.
of No. 225 Hurricane Squadron. Apart from the difficulties
of operating from bases far to the rear, the pilots had to face sharp
enemy opposition in the air. Their Hurricanes were not only heavily
outnumbered but were also outmatched in performance by most of the
fighters the enemy was operating. Early in December Short was shot
down in an encounter with six Messerschmitts, but although wounded
managed to get back to his base, seventy miles away, the same day.
Two months later he was again shot down, this time well behind the
enemy lines, where he was promptly captured and sent to a prisoner–
of–war camp at Modena in Italy. But there his stay was brief. Early in
September 1943 he escaped in company with two other New Zealanders, Lieutenant D. W. Hodge, 2 NZEF,
Capt D. W. Hodge; Timaru; born Wanganui, 30 Jul 1920; salesman; prisoner of war,
15 Jul 1942.
and Flying Officer Duncan.
Flight Lieutenant W.R. Duncan; born Stirling, 19 Nov 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF19 Jan 1941; prisoner of war 13 Sep 1942; safe in neutral territory 5 Apr 1944.
Duncan had been captured just before the Battle of El Alamein. Returning from a
bombing raid, engine failure had compelled his aircraft to force–land some sixty miles
south of Mersa Matruh. He had walked for six days with very little food and water
before he was captured.
Italian civilians gave them clothes and bicycles on which they got away
to the hills. Here they spent the winter in precarious circumstances—
some partisans with whom they made contact were ambushed by the
Germans and lost half their number—but eventually, in the spring of
1944 when travelling conditions improved, Short and Duncan were
able to move north and, after a hazardous crossing of the Alps, reached
Switzerland and freedom. Hodge was recaptured.
* * * * *
As the campaign in Tunisia progressed, fighter pilots were kept busy in
patrol and attack against enemy formations and in support of our
ground forces. Flying Officer Hardy
Flight Lieutenant O. L. Hardy, DFC and bar; born Auckland, 31 Jul 1922; mechanical
engineer; joined RNZAFMar 1941.
had a particularly successful
career with No. 72 Spitfire Squadron, winning both the Distinguished
Flying Cross and bar. He not only destroyed several enemy aircraft
but also took part in many attacks on ground targets, particularly during
the battles at Tebourba and Djedeida.
Flight Lieutenants Mackie
Wing Commander E. D. Mackie, DSO, DFC and bar, DFC (US); born Waihi, 31 Oct
1917; electrician; joined RNZAF19 Jan 1941; commanded No. 92 Sqdn, Middle East,
1943–44; commanded No. 80 Sqdn and Wing Leader, No. 122 Wing, 1945.
and J. K. Porteous were frequently in
action with No. 243 Spitfire Squadron. On patrol over the First Army
front near Medjez el Bab early in April, the squadron intercepted
fifteen Junkers 87 dive–bombers escorted by Messerschmitt fighters;
the bombers jettisoned their bombs and fled for cloud cover, but the
Spitfires closed in and shot down at least five of them and attacked
most of the others. That day Mackie destroyed two Ju87s. Three days
later he blew up a Messerschmitt in mid–air and it exploded so close
to his Spitfire that oil sprayed the windscreen. The following week
Porteous and Mackie were both leading flights when the squadron met
a formation of Messerschmitt fighter–bombers; a running air battle
followed in which Mackie shot down one enemy fighter while Porteous
destroyed a second and damaged two more. Another New Zealander
with the squadron, Sergeant Towgood,
Warrant Officer D. J. Towgood; born Wanganui, 27 Apr 1923; farmer; joined RNZAF26 Sep 1941.
accounted for a Ju88 fighter
during an attack on an enemy road convoy retreating towards Tunis.
The exploits of Squadron Leader Colin Gray
Wing Commander C. F. Gray, DSO, DFC and 2 bars; RAF; born Christchurch, 9 Nov
1914; joined RAFJan 1939; commanded Nos. 403, 616, 64 and 81 Sqdns, 1941–43;
Wing Leader, Malta, Sicily, Europe, 1943–45; commanded RAF Station, Skeabrae,
1945; Directorate of Air Foreign Liaison, 1947–49; British Joint Services Mission,
Washington, 1949–52.
during the campaign are
of particular interest. Veteran of the Battle of Britain and early
fighter operations over France, Gray came to Tunis in January 1943
to command No. 81 Spitfire Squadron. A few days after his arrival, he
was leading a flight on patrol off Cap Rosa when four Me109s were
sighted and in the ensuing battle Gray and his pilots shot down three
of the enemy without loss. A few weeks later Gray shot down a Macchi
202, then towards the end of March he brought down the German ace,
von Muller, who was credited with over one hundred victories. This
action took place during a dogfight west of Beja, Gray surprising
Muller while he was intent on attacking another Spitfire. Coming in
from above and behind, Gray saw his cannon shells strike the port
wing–root of Muller's Messerschmitt; one leg of the undercarriage
dropped and then the tell–tale glycol began to spurt. As his Messerschmitt started to go down Muller baled out and was captured.
Gray shot down four more enemy aircraft over Tunisia. One of
these victories came after an eventful flight. He had just taken off to
lead the squadron on a sweep when he noticed that his engine was
running rather roughly; he was about to call up and report the situation before landing to check the trouble when he saw bombs bursting
on the airfield he had just left. Gray immediately forgot all about the
engine trouble in his determination to attack the eight FW190s which
had dropped the bombs and he set off after them. But the Germans
were above the Spitfires and their greater height enabled them to draw
away by diving in the direction of their base at Bizerta. Returning from
the hopeless pursuit, Gray suddenly sighted two Messerschmitt 109s
flying low over the hills. He turned towards them and was soon engaged in a fight with one. Several minutes of crazy flying followed
with both pilots skimming low over the hills, each seeking a favourable
position from which to fire at the other. Several times Gray opened
fire and saw his cannon shells hitting the hilltops and kicking up spurts
of dust. Eventually a burst found its mark and a trail of white smoke
indicated that the Messerschmitt was leaking glycol. Thereupon the
German pilot manoeuvred to gain height and, at about 1500 feet, he
baled out. Gray then landed back at base and had his engine inspected.
During April, Gray frequently led his squadron as cover to American
Warhawks engaged on intercepting the German transport aircraft that
flew over from Sicily in great aerial trains. The biggest day was on
18 April when about 100 Ju52s, heavily escorted by both single and
twin–engined fighters, were intercepted and over fifty of them are reported to have been shot down. Pilot Officer Montgomerie,
Flight Lieutenant L. J. Montgomerie, DFC; born Opunake, New Plymouth13 May
1922; farmer; joined RNZAF12 Apr 1941; died of injuries received on air operations,
27 Aug 1944.
Flight
Sergeant Peart,
Flight Lieutenant A. McG. Peart, DFC; born Nelson, 25 Jul 1942; draughtsman;
joined RNZAF7 May 1941.
and Sergeants Plummer
Sergeant N. A. Plummer; born Tokomaru Bay, Auckland, 21 Aug 1918; farmer;
joined RNZAF3 May 1941; killed on air operations, 2 Jan 1943.
and Robinson
Flying Officer W. J. Robinson; born Taihape, 28 Nov 1921; apprentice fitter; joined
RNZAF24 May 1941.
all flew
with Gray's No. 81 Squadron during the Tunisian campaign.
Five more Spitfire pilots who saw a good deal of action in the later
stages were Flight Lieutenants D. J. V. Henry and Pilot Officer S. F.
Browne
Squadron Leader S. F. Browne, DFC and bar; born Wellington, 29 Oct 1919; medical
student; joined RNZAFMar 1941; commanded No. 485 (NZ) Sqdn, 1945.
of No. 93 Squadron, Flying Officers Fowler
Flight Lieutenant J. A. C. Fowler; born Marton, 4 Jan 1923; student; joined RNZAFSep 1941; killed on air operations, 31 Dec 1944.
and Hogan
Squadron Leader D. E. Hogan, DFC; born Auckland, 30 Jun 1920; clerk; joined
RNZAFMar 1941.
of
No. 111 Squadron, and Pilot Officer Shaw
Flight Lieutenant E. J. Shaw, DFC; born Frankton, 4 May 1912; meat inspector;
joined RNZAF1 Mar 1941.
of No. 72 Squadron.
Between them they destroyed at least six enemy machines in the air
and also did good work in attacks on grounded aircraft and enemy
transport. One April sortie in which Fowler and Hogan took part had
an unusual sequel. Flying a long–range sweep off the coast in search of
enemy shipping, the Spitfires saw a formation of Ju52 air transports
below them escorted, so it appeared, by only a few fighters; but as the
squadron swooped to the attack about twenty German and Italian
fighters came down on them from above and a sharp engagement
followed. Hogan managed to shoot down one Macchi 202 and hit
three others; Fowler dived on another fighter and shot it down into
the sea but was promptly shot down himself from behind. Although
slightly injured and dazed by the shock, he managed to crash–land his
Spitfire on the beach, but when he scrambled out he found an Arab
covering him with a gun. Shortly afterwards a German officer appeared
and Fowler soon found himself in hospital at Tunis, where his head
was stitched and his legs bandaged. A few days later when he was able
to sit up he discovered that nearly all the other wounded were German,
but warned by a French nurse, he feigned delirium and so avoided
being sent to Italy. Fifteen days later when the British entered Tunis
he was able to slip away and return to his squadron. There, as often
happened, he found that he had been given up for lost, his belongings
packed and sent away and letters of condolence written to his people;
but the squadron made amends with a good party.
Among the bomber crews, Flying Officer Dumont
Squadron Leader N. Dumont, DFC; born Junee, Aust, 20 Oct 1913; shipping clerk;
joined RNZAFDec 1940.
and Flight
Sergeant McCullum
Warrant Officer H. S. McCullum, DFC; born Manaia, 30 Jun 1916; linotype operator;
joined RNZAFJan 1941.
both distinguished themselves in operations with
the Bisley squadrons that supported the First Army in northern Tunisia. The Bisley, a development of the Blenheim night bomber, had
neither the speed nor the armament for daylight sorties, but as the episode of Wing Commander Malcolm already related makes clear, the
crews showed great gallantry in their attacks. During Rommel's thrust
north through the Kasserine Pass Dumont made an exceptionally good
attack against enemy transport in the actual pass. With heavy clouds
covering both sides of the valley and the mountains above, he had to
approach his target almost at ground level, but he succeeded in dropping his bombs among vehicles on the road and returned safely. Flight
Sergeant McCullum was invariably chosen for all special sorties involving bombing near friendly troops and for night intruder work,
since ‘his accurate navigation had made his crew the most outstanding
in the squadron.’
Flying Boston light bombers, Sergeant Baker
Pilot Officer C. G. Baker, DFC; born Timaru, 30 Jun 1915; clerk; joined RNZAFApr 1941; killed on air operations, 8 Jul 1943.
made frequent sorties
against enemy positions. One day his bomber was hit in an engine
when enemy fighters attacked the formation; Baker was unable to keep
up with the other aircraft but he flew on and attacked his target—an
enemy strongpoint on high ground near Bir Mergha. A few minutes
later the damaged engine caught fire and Baker had to force–land in
enemy territory. He and his crew hid in a cornfield while German
soldiers stood watching the aircraft burn, only a short distance away.
Then they crawled through the corn and, with shellfire passing over
them from both lines, surmounted barbed–wire entanglements and
crawled through a wadi strewn with mines and booby traps, until
eventually they were able to make contact with a British patrol. Information they were able to supply proved most useful on a local raid
by our own troops that same night.
Two squadrons of Wellington bombers had joined Eastern Air
Command in December 1942 to operate against enemy ports and airfields both in Tunisia and Italy; at periods of heavy land fighting they
also gave close support to General Anderson's First Army. Squadron
Leader Holmes,
Squadron Leader C. L. G. Holmes, DFC; born Hamilton, 26 Feb 1918; clerk; joined
RAFAug 1939.
Flight Lieutenant Hanlon
Flight Lieutenant R. E. Hanlon, DFC; born Tokomaru Bay, 30 May 1917; painter;
joined RNZAF15 Jan 1940.
and Sergeant P. G. F.
Smith
Flight Lieutenant P. G. F. Smith, DFM; born Dunedin, 11 Nov 1918; salesman; joined
RNZAF9 Nov 1941.
of No. 150 Squadron, and Flying Officer Allen
Flight Lieutenant T. W. Allen, DSO, DFC; born Auckland, 11 Mar 1922; construction
engineer; joined RNZAFMay 1941.
of No. 142
Squadron, each captained Wellingtons on many such missions. In one
April raid on El Aouina airfield at Tunis, the weather was particularly
foul and Sergeant Smith was the only pilot to locate the target; his
incendiaries enabled seventeen other crews to find and bomb this important air base on which was parked the main strength of the enemy
air forces remaining in Tunisia.
* * * * *
New Zealanders also continued to operate with the squadrons that
supported Montgomery's Eighth Army as it advanced into Tunisia.
Squadron Leader L. J. Joel, for example, was with No. 232 Wing,
flying Baltimore light bombers. During the battle of the Mareth Line,
these versatile machines made nine attacks on a single afternoon. Flying
Officer P. N. McGregor and Pilot Officer J. B. Paton flew Hurricane
tank–busters which operated with outstanding success during the same
battle and, indeed, throughout the campaign.
Prominent in fighter patrol and attack were Flight Lieutenant D.
F. Westenra with No. 601 Spitfire Squadron, Flight Lieutenant G.
Fallows and Pilot Officer B. H. Thomas of No. 260 Kittyhawk Squadron, and Flight Sergeant McConnochie
Flying Officer W. G. McConnochie, DFC; born Dunedin, 20 Nov 1914; farmer; joined
RNZAFJan 1941.
and Sergeant Day
Flying Officer A. E. W. Day; born Pukekohe, 21 Oct 1920; student teacher; joined
RNZAFMay 1941; prisoner of war, 7 Aug 1944.
of No. 450
Squadron, also flying Kittyhawks. Combats with German fighters were
now less frequent for the constant raids on his landing grounds had
seriously reduced enemy activity in the air; fighter pilots were therefore
able to concentrate more and more on attacking transport and troop
concentrations. In the course of one day's operations towards the end of
March 1943, the fighters and fighter–bombers of Western Desert Air
Force claimed fifty vehicles destroyed and some 250 damaged. But such
ground–strafing operations had their hazards, as Flight Lieutenant
Fallows discovered when pieces of an exploding enemy truck hit his
machine and forced him to land in enemy territory, where he was
quickly captured. Describing this incident Fallows writes:
I was leading Kittyhawk dive bombers against the German positions at
El Hamma in Tunisia. We had been instructed to dive bomb the 88 mm
gun flashes and then strafe anything moving. I strafed a moving truck
which, unfortunately for me, blew up and damaged the engine of my aircraft. Flames started to appear, so I throttled back and carried on for some
time before belly landing among small sand dunes. The impact badly damaged the aircraft and also broke the safety straps, causing me to knock
myself out on the gun sight. The next thing I recall was having two menacing Arabs standing over me with an old–fashioned gun. I was taken to their
camp nearby and in a few minutes a German truck arrived and an officer
immediately applied first aid, and I was treated with the utmost consideration.
A few days later I was placed in a cattle truck at Sfax with forty others,
and during the night I produced a small saw from my shoe, and taking turns
we managed to saw the door down. Grouping ourselves in fours we jumped
off the moving train and proceeded westwards towards the First Army.
After walking all night and all the next day, we finally came to a main
road carrying fairly heavy enemy transport. We waited for a gap in the
traffic and then dashed across, but unfortunately we were sighted by Arabs
working in the fields. About thirty or forty of them joined in the chase,
armed with hoes and other implements, and we were finally surrounded and
knocked down. A German truck stopped very shortly afterwards and four
German soldiers bashed six of the Arabs with their rifle butts, and we were
once again in captivity on the way to Tunis, where no other occasion presented itself for escape.
A less spectacular but equally effective contribution was made by
the men who flew heavy bombers. These squadrons had moved forward from Egypt in the wake of the Eighth Army and by mid–February
1943 most of them were installed at Gardabia, about 120 miles east of
Tripoli. From this base they intensified their attacks on the enemy
supply ports in Tunisia and on his landing grounds, transport and
troop concentrations behind the battlefront. The Wellingtons also did
some good close–support bombing in the opening stages of the Mareth
battle and again at Enfidaville.
Three New Zealand pilots, Wing Commanders J. J. McKay, J. E. S.
Morton and D. R. Bagnall, were each in control of heavy bombers
during the final campaign in North Africa. McKay commanded the
only RAF squadron yet equipped with American Liberator aircraft and
his fine leadership of this unit won him admission to the Distinguished
Service Order. He had taken over at a time when the Liberators were
operating from a desert base where maintenance and servicing facilities
were anything but adequate; replacement crews and aircraft spares were
also scarce, ‘but despite these difficulties,’ says the record, ‘by determined effort he built up the squadron and obtained the maximum operational flying, at one period undertaking several consecutive sorties
himself.’ Morton and Bagnall did similar good work in command of
No. 40 Squadron, which flew Wellington bombers. Morton, who had
already completed a tour of operations over Germany, joined as flight
commander in August 1942. He operated over the Western Desert and
then, for a time, from Malta, where he led attacks on Bizerta, Tunis
and targets in Italy. He was promoted to command the squadron when
it moved to North Africa and by the end of March 1943 he had flown
over sixty bombing missions. Bagnall then took over and led the
squadron for the remainder of the campaign. He soon proved himself
a highly efficient commander and during April his crews made no
fewer than 195 sorties—a remarkable effort since the squadron was
still equipped with an obsolescent type of Wellington that was difficult
to keep flying and was also inferior in performance to the types flown
by other units.
Squadron Leaders H. H. Beale and W. R. Kofoed both did fine work as
flight commanders in bomber units, Beale flying a Wellington of
No. 37 Squadron and Kofoed a Halifax with No. 462. Flying Officer
B. M. O'Connor, Sergeants Davidson
Flying Officer L. V. Davidson; born Waipawa, 24 Sep 1914; taxi proprietor; joined
RNZAFApr 1941; killed on air operations, 8 Jun 1944.
and Gustofson
Flying Officer N. Gustofson;
born Wellington, 6 Jul 1914; civil servant; joined RNZAFFeb 1941.
of No. 37
Wellington Squadron, Warrant Officer Halley
Flight Lieutenant G. S. Halley, DFC; born Shannon, 21 Dec 1916; timber machinist;
joined RNZAF26 Oct 1939.
with No. 462 Halifax
Squadron, Flight Lieutenant Towsey
Squadron Leader C. P. Towsey, DFC; born Hamilton, 2 May 1918; musician; joined
RNZAF29 Sep 1940.
with No. 40 Squadron, and
Sergeants Cullinane
Flight Lieutenant B. Cullinane, DFM; born Wanganui, 18 Apr 1914; farmhand; joined
RNZAFJul 1941.
and Stowers
Flying Officer R. E. Stowers, DFM; born Rotorua, 10 Aug 1922; carpenter; joined
RNZAF19 Oct 1941.
of No. 70 Wellington Squadron
all did good work as captains of bomber aircraft during the Tunisian
campaign. Flight Lieutenant Austin,
Squadron Leader W. S. Austin, DFC; born Greymouth, 14 Jul 1915; law clerk; joined
RNZAFNov 1939.
who was navigation officer with
No. 40 Squadron, deserves special mention. He had been with this
unit for over two years and had navigated Wellingtons, first over
Germany, then over the Western Desert, and finally from Malta and
North Africa.
With the Coastal Air Force, Wing Commander R. M. Mackenzie led
a squadron of Beaufighters which had notable success in attacks on
supply ships. Squadron Leader R. E. Bary was in command of Hurricanes which operated from a Western Desert base in the less spectacular but very important role of protecting convoys sailing between
Egypt and Malta.
Transport crews also continued to play their part, bringing forward
supplies and evacuating casualties. As the advance into Tunisia reached
its climax, over 200 casualties a day were being flown back to the newly
established hospitals in North Africa and in the Delta area. The work
of the pilots in landing all types of transport aircraft on improvised
airfields, often under extremely difficult conditions, was most praiseworthy; and by substituting swift air travel for long journeys over
desert tracks they undoubtedly saved many lives and spared the wounded a great deal of suffering.
Thus, in their various roles, did pilots and aircrews play their part
during the final months of the North African campaign. And now as
their squadrons moved northwards through Tunisia, through the soft
and green countryside, with its olive plantations that were such a
pleasure to the eye, they found themselves members of a large and
purposeful Allied organisation, bent on carrying the war across the
narrow seas to the enemy. Just what lay ahead the squadrons did not
know. But there were great things obviously, for Prime Minister
Churchill and President Franklin Roosevelt had already met at
Casablanca and their plans must now be taking shape in the higher
command.
* * * * *
Looking back over the long campaign in the Western Desert and in
Tunisia, it is clear that air power had played an increasingly important
part. Even in the early years when the tide of battle ebbed and flowed
across Africa, control of the desert landing grounds had frequently
transformed the situation. When the RAF held Berka and Benina it
was able to sustain the advance of the land forces farther west and to
strike at Tripoli; from the airfields of eastern Cyrenaica it could still
strike at Benghazi and at the same time protect our shipping in the
eastern Mediterranean; but when it receded into Egypt the whole
range of its activity was limited as, for example, when the landing
grounds within range of Tobruk were lost in the retreat to Alamein,
leaving the enemy to bring the weight of his bomber force to bear, and
the fortress fell.
Fortunately, however, while the airfields in the Western Desert
changed hands many times, there was one air base which the British
never lost, one which had an enormous influence upon the whole
course of the Mediterranean campaign on land and sea. This was the
island of Malta.
CHAPTER 6Malta
A PPROACHING it from the air, Malta first appears like a leaf,
green or brown according to the season, floating upon the blue
sea. The whole of the island is visible for quite a time with its terraced
fields and villages, its churches and small farms all close and compact;
then can be seen the port of Valetta and the enclosed waters of the
Grand Harbour, where tiers of little houses look down across stone
terraces and green palms to the blue beneath. It is a memorable view,
but at the same time it all looks so very small, such a simple, rather
fragile and easy target—especially for hostile bombers based only
seventy miles away on the spacious airfields of Sicily. Yet for well
over two years this small island, whose long history had seen it as a
military fortress of the Knights of St. John and as Nelson's ‘important
outwork to India’, withstood the worst that the enemy could cast
upon it and by its persistence played a vital part in Mediterranean
strategy.
Malta's indomitable resistance under the enemy attack, the heroism
of its defenders and the endurance of its people, won high praise at
the time, and rightly so, but a good deal less was said of its achievements as a base for striking at the enemy. Yet this is the true significance of the Malta story. For the island was essentially an aerodrome
and its retention meant that air power could be applied in offensive
operations over all areas of the Mediterranean within range of its aircraft; it could also serve as an air staging post and a reconnaissance
base. Above all, because of its position athwart the enemy's supply
routes to North Africa, Malta could, and did, exercise a profound
effect on the land campaigns in that area. But for Malta, Rommel might
well have pressed on to Alexandria and beyond; without it, the
invasion of Sicily and Italy would have been well-nigh impossible.
The battle of Malta began a few hours after Italy's declaration of
war with the appearance of the first raiders over the island at dawn on
11 June 1940. From that day until the middle of 1943, by which time
the island had been relieved and the Allies were preparing to invade
Sicily, the battle was waged continuously. Periods of intensive attack
alternated with times of relative quiet but Malta's activity never ceased.
As one of its air commanders remarked, ‘We remained open day and
night, like Waterloo Station.’ And in those eventful years, during which
the RAF both defended the island and demonstrated its special value
in the Mediterranean campaigns, its airmen achieved lasting fame. They
came from all parts of the Commonwealth, with Canadians, Australians,
Rhodesians and New Zealanders playing a conspicuous part alongside
their comrades from the British Isles. The New Zealand contingent
of some 198 airmen—66 of them fighter pilots—was indeed substantial
considering the size of the force engaged in Malta during this period.
It is also interesting to record that two of the three air commanders
were New Zealanders—Air Vice-Marshal F. H. M. Maynard and Air
Vice-Marshal K. R. Park.
Maynard was there at the outset. A fighter pilot of the First World
War who had already spent two periods in the Middle East during
the intervening years, he had been appointed Air Officer Commanding
at Malta six months before Italy declared war. At that time the island's
chances of survival were considered slender owing to its close proximity
to Italian bomber bases; moreover, although three airfields had been
built and a radar station was ready to operate, there were no fighters,
only a few reconnaissance machines. Maynard, however, was convinced that the island could be held against the Italians. Casting about
for some means of defence he discovered four Gladiator biplane
fighters—spares for an aircraft carrier—still in their packing cases.
They were soon assembled, volunteers to fly them were at once forthcoming from his staff and by the time the first Italian air raids came,
the improvised flight was ready for action. Unfortunately one of the
Gladiators was soon damaged beyond repair but the remaining three—
now dubbed ‘Faith, Hope and Charity’—continued to defy the Italian
Air Force for some weeks. At the end of June 1940 they were joined
by four Hurricanes
These were really destined for Egypt but Maynard secured permission to retain them
in Malta.
and for the next month the seven fighters, together with the anti-aircraft guns, were Malta's entire defence against
over two hundred Italian aircraft in Sicily.
Almost every day Italian bombers raided the island and every time
all the serviceable Hurricanes and Gladiators went up to meet them;
some indication of the effect they caused is shown by contemporary
Italian estimates of Malta's fighter strength as twenty-five aircraft. And
not only did Malta survive but a marked lack of aggressiveness on
the part of the enemy led him first into bombing from great height,
then into operating under escort and finally, for a while, into attacking
by night. Only two of our fighters were lost in combat and no serious
damage was suffered on the ground.
Once Maynard had shown what Malta could do, it was decided to
reinforce the fighter defence and to increase the small reconnaissance
force of Swordfish aircraft and Sunderland flying-boats that watched
the Italian Fleet and sought targets for the Royal Navy. By mid-
November sixteen more Hurricanes had arrived, flown off the aircraft
carrier Argus. That same month reconnaissance sorties by Marylands
and Sunderlands made possible a highly successful Fleet Air Arm
attack on the Italian Fleet at Taranto in which three battleships were
crippled. Meanwhile, Wellington bombers en route to Egypt had, at
Maynard's instigation, paused at Malta to make a few visits to Italian
ports in the neighbourhood; and in December he secured permission
to form a whole squadron of Wellingtons for attack on the enemy's
supply lines. Thus, at the end of 1940, far from being overwhelmed
as had been expected, Malta stood forth to challenge the enemy—
shield in one hand, sword in the other.
But now a new danger threatened. For German air units had begun
to arrive in Sicily with Ju87 dive-bombers, twin-engined Messerschmitt fighters, reconnaissance machines and long-range Heinkel
bombers. They soon made their presence felt. Attacking a Malta-bound
convoy in the Sicilian Narrows on 10 January 1941, they sank one of
the two escorting cruisers, crippled the other and severely damaged
the carrier Illustrious. On reaching Malta the carrier became a target for
further attack and the next fortnight saw what came to be known as
the ‘Illustrious Blitz’; a serious attempt was now made to wreck the
island's airfields and above Grand Harbour dive-bombers ‘came
screeching through a sky that was three parts flying steel and drifting
smoke and one part spray or falling water’ in a determined effort to
destroy HMS Illustrious. But Malta and the Illustrious came through.
Twelve aircraft were lost—six of them destroyed on the ground—but
our fighters and guns between them accounted for eleven German
machines and an unspecified number of Italian, while our Wellington
bombers destroyed nine more in raids on Sicily. And after a miracle
of effort by the repairers the Illustrious slipped out of harbour under
her own steam and reached Alexandria safely.
The departure of the Illustrious, however, brought no respite; for the
Germans were determined to neutralise Malta and control the supply
routes to Rommel's forces, now active in North Africa. By early March
their bombers had wrought such havoc on the island's airfields that the
Wellington bombers and Sunderland flying-boats had to be withdrawn to Egypt. Malta's shipping offensive practically ceased. But its
small Hurricane force continued to resist, although at times the pilots
were too weary and exhausted to climb the stairs to their rooms; the
continual night raids were a severe trial; and it was April before reinforcements—including some Hurricanes of a later type—reached them.
Eventually, after five months of constant attack, came welcome relief
with the transfer of the German squadrons from Sicily to the Balkans;
there they replaced other units moving east, for Hitler's attack on
Russia was impending.
Operations against Malta were now left to the Regia Aeronautica and
the island, faced once more only by the Italians, prepared to resume the
offensive. The Wellingtons and Sunderlands returned; Blenheims from
Bomber Command's No. 2 Group, already experienced in attacking
enemy shipping in the North Sea, arrived to continue this task in the
Mediterranean; a squadron of Marylands made possible a more am-
bitiousambitious programme of reconnaissance; and more Hurricanes came to
defend the airfields.
At this stage Maynard handed over to his successor, Air Vice-Marshal Hugh Lloyd.
Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh P. Lloyd; GBE, KCB, MC, DFC, Croix de Guerre (Fr),
Legion of Merit (US), Order of Nicham-Iftikhar (Fr), Legion of Honour (Fr); RAF
(retd); born Leigh, Worcester, 12 Dec 1894; joined RFC 1917; commanded No. 9
Sqdn 1939; RAF Station, Marham, 1939; SASO No. 2 Group, 1940–41; AOC Malta,
1941–42; SASO, HQ Middle East, 1942–43; AOC NWACAF 1943–44; AOC Tiger
Force, 1945.
His sixteen months at Malta had certainly been
a remarkable record of achievement. In the face of formidable enemy
superiority and all manner of supply difficulties, he had built up the
island's defence and shown it could be held. He had inspired all by his
cool judgment and fine leadership; and his handful of fighters had been
credited with fifty enemy aircraft destroyed and as many damaged.
He had also prepared for the coming offensive, in particular by persisting with the building of a bomber airfield, with a 1200-yard tarmac
runway, at Luqa in the centre of the island. Its construction was really
a triumph of ingenuity, since the whole area had to be levelled from
stony ground, hills and quarries; there were no proper tools for construction, and the work was done by the most primitive Maltese labour
methods with horse and cart.
Several New Zealand pilots operated from Malta during those remarkable months when Maynard was in command. Flight Sergeant
Hyde,
Squadron Leader R. J. Hyde, AFC; born Islington, Canterbury, 21 Dec 1913; electrician;
joined RAFJul 1938; transferred RNZAFFeb 1945.
who had joined the RAF a year before the war, flew Hurricane
fighters; arriving in August 1940, he took part in the first phase of the
island's defence against the Italians and remained to serve for the next
nine months with No. 261 Squadron—the first complete fighter squadron formed at Malta. Another fighter pilot, Pilot Officer Langdon,
Pilot Officer C. E. Langdon; born Hawera, 21 Aug 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF20 Sep
1939; transferred RAFJun 1940; killed on air operations, 26 Feb 1941.
who joined this same unit a few months later, was lost in action during
the time of the heavy German attacks. Flight Lieutenant L. W. Coleman
and Flying Officer C. A. Pownall each captained Wellington bombers
flying from Malta during the early months of 1941; their chief target
at that time was the enemy's North African supply port of Tripoli,
but they also bombed the airfield at Catania in Sicily.
Flight Lieutenant Bloxam
Wing Commander J. R. Bloxam, OBE, DFC; RAF; born Dunedin, 11 Feb 1913;
joined RAF1937; transferred RNZAFDec 1943.
did fine work as pilot of one of the first
Maryland aircraft based on Malta; these machines, which were fast
and reliable, provided the chief means of sea reconnaissance and they
ranged far and wide over the waters between Tripoli, Sardinia, Naples
and Greece. Even when the Germans maintained standing patrols
around Malta to intercept them on their inward and outward flights,
they still continued to carry out their missions. In mid-April 1941,
Bloxam found and shadowed a convoy of five merchant ships escorted
by three destroyers off the island of Pantellaria, north-west of Malta;
as a result of his reports a destroyer force, led by Captain Lord Louis
Mountbatten, was directed to the target and Bloxam subsequently
reported all the merchant vessels and two destroyers lying beached on
the Tunisian coast. A few weeks later he found a convoy near Tripoli
which had eluded naval attack; subsequent bombing by Marylands
from Malta set at least one 15,000-ton troopship on fire. On another
occasion, Bloxam shadowed and reported the Italian Fleet off Cape
Matapan. By the end of 1941 he had flown over seventy reconnaissance
missions and he then remained at Malta for a further period as operations officer at Luqa airfield.
Good work was also done by Flight Lieutenants H. L. M. Glover,
H. W. Lamond, D. N. Milligan and A. Frame, who captained Sunderland flying-boats on reconnaissance, supply and transport missions to
and from Malta—Glover, a former pilot of Imperial Airways, finding
his previous experience no little value in these new duties. Long-range
reconnaissances over the enemy shipping lanes between Italy and North
Africa and in the Ionian Sea provided targets for both aircraft and
warships, and the Sunderland could always be relied upon to guide
Hurricane fighters safely in to Malta from a carrier or to find and cover
a crippled ship. Indeed, no praise is too high for the Sunderland crews
who faithfully performed the role of ‘maids of all work’ at this difficult
time.
Their long-range transport and reconnaissance missions were not
without hazard. One night when Milligan was flying a heavily laden
Sunderland on the thousand-mile flight to Aboukir, the starboard
outer engine threw off its propeller and then caught fire; it was only
with great difficulty that he kept control and then, with the fire extinguished, flew back to make an emergency landing in darkness at
Kalafrana Bay without the aid of a flare-path.
* * * * *
With the departure of the Luftwaffe from Sicily in May 1941, enemy
air activity against Malta was considerably reduced. There was some
night bombing but, by day, only an occasional bomber or low-flying
fighter attack and intermittent reconnaissance. The Hurricane Is were
able to deal with the Macchi 200 fighters which comprised the main
Italian force and reinforcement by some Hurricane IIs was a further
discouragement to the enemy.
Notable developments occurred at Malta during the next few months.
In the first place, devoted efforts by the Merchant Navy and the crews
of escorting ships and aircraft brought in several convoys from the
west, so restocking the island with food, bombs, ammunition, aviation
fuel and many other vital commodities. At the same time Air Vice-
Marshal Lloyd and his construction teams, helped unsparingly by the
Army, pressed on with the development of the island's air facilities;
despite an almost complete absence of all those devices which make
modern building so fascinating a spectacle, they succeeded in building
new airfields, taxi tracks, dispersals, radar stations and operations
rooms. The provision of adequate aircraft dispersal space was a major
problem since every yard of the island's poor soil was needed for
crops, but Malta's stone-walled roads were put to good use in forming
the celebrated Safi strip which linked Luqa and Hal Far airfields in a
unique dispersal area.
Meanwhile, with the Italian bombers showing a marked disinclination to visit the island, Malta struck out boldly at enemy ports and
shipping. And she struck with such effect that Admiral Raeder was
soon reporting to Hitler that ‘German shipments to North Africa are
suffering heavy losses of ships, material and personnel as a result of
enemy air attacks by bombs and torpedoes and through submarine
attacks’, while Mussolini bemoaned the loss of nearly three-quarters
of Italy's shipping employed on the African supply routes. It is now
known that the enemy lost at least 220,000 tons of shipping on his
North African convoy routes as a result of our naval and air operations
between 1 June and 31 October 1941. Of this total 94,000 tons were
sunk by our naval vessels—mainly submarines—and 115,000 by aircraft of the Royal Air Force and the Fleet Air Arm. Ninety per cent
of the sinkings were of loaded southbound traffic, and at least three-quarters of those attributed to aircraft were the work of the squadrons
at Malta. This destruction of enemy cargoes undoubtedly helped
Auchinleck outpace Rommel in the build-up of supplies and so launch
the CRUSADER campaign that took the Allied armies forward to
Benghazi at the end of 1941.
British submarines and Swordfish torpedo-bombers of the Fleet Air
Arm, whose pilots won a high reputation for the courage and accuracy
with which they operated their obsolete ‘String Bags’, continued to
play a major part in the shipping strikes from Malta during this period.
But the RAF Blenheim bombers now operating from the island soon
established a fine record with their low-level attacks; and RAF reconnaissance planes continued to locate and report suitable targets.
The Blenheims each carried four 250 Ib. bombs, fused for eleven
seconds' delay, and flying in at mast height they released them in a
closely spaced stick. These tactics were at first highly successful; but
as the enemy began to arm his ships and to provide escorts, the low-flying Blenheims found their operations more and more hazardous.
Frequently they were shot down on the run in to attack, for in the
clear Mediterranean skies surprise was almost impossible; fire would
be opened long before aircraft were within range and huge sheets of
water would be splashed up from the falling shells. ‘Under such conditions,’ Air Vice-Marshal Lloyd remarks, ‘the attacks required incalculable courage, determination and leadership on the part of our
young men.’
Flight Lieutenants Edmunds
Flight Lieutenant E. G. Edmunds, DFC; born Wellington, 29 Nov 1915; sports goods
maker; joined RNZAF3 Sep 1940; killed on air operations, 11 Dec 1941.
and Allport,
Squadron Leader V. Allport, DFC; born Nelson, 18 Feb 1916; insurance agent; joined
RNZAFAug 1940; killed in flying accident, 26 Mar 1944.
Flight Sergeant O. W.
Thompson
Flying Officer O. W. Thompson, DFM; born Auckland, 10 Nov 1916; clerk; joined
RNZAF2 Jul 1940; killed on air operations, 1 May 1943.
and Pilot Officer Buckley
Flight Lieutenant J. Buckley, DFC; born Wanganui, 29 Nov 1915; joined RAF Mar
1940; transferred RNZAFJan 1944.
each captained Blenheims in
these operations, while Pilot Officer Knight
Flight Lieutenant O. W. Knight; born Auckland, 12 Sep 1912; master butcher; joined
RNZAFMar 1940.
and Flight Sergeants
Brooking,
Warrant Officer E. Brooking; born Auckland, 31 Jan 1922; shop assistant; joined
RNZAF4 Jun 1940.
Duignan
Flying Officer W. H. Duignan; born Cambridge, 30 Jan 1920; bank clerk; joined
RNZAFJun 1940.
and McKenzie
Warrant Officer J. B. J. McKenzie; born Auckland, 23 Oct 1919; bank clerk; joined
RNZAF9 Apr 1940.
flew as navigators. Edmunds
led several attacks by formations from his No. 18 Squadron—notably
an assault on shipping at Navarino Bay in Greece where, in the face
of intense flak, a merchant ship and a 6000-ton tanker were bombed
and set on fire, the tanker being reported to have received six hits.
On another occasion when his formation became separated in thick
weather, Edmunds flew on with one accompanying aircraft to his
allotted patrol area near Tripoli, where he located and attacked a troopship and an escorting destroyer, scoring hits on both vessels.
Allport flew many sorties with the same squadron; on one patrol he
sank a large Italian transport and on another scored hits on a tanker.
Thompson had notable success with his No. 107 Squadron; he led the
attack on the 10,000-ton Iridio-Mantovani which was afterwards abandoned; he sank another smaller transport and also made several effective
attacks on land targets. These three pilots were decorated for their
part in these hazardous operations; only a few days after receiving his
DFC, Edmunds was shot down while leading a low-level attack.
An interesting episode in which Buckley and Knight took part was
the bombing of a 9000-ton transport off the island of Lampedusa in
mid-August. The ship had run ashore as a result of damage suffered
earlier; a destroyer and torpedo-boats stood by and a swarm of lighters
were busy salvaging the deck cargo of motor vehicles. During their
approach the two Blenhcims were an easy target for the anti-aircraft
guns—especially those which the Italians had quickly placed on the
cliffs above the ship. Buckley was wounded twice, first by a bullet
which shattered his windscreen and hit him in the hand, then when a
cannon shell went through his navigator's map case to explode on the
Very pistol, bits of which were blown back into his legs. But his bombs
hit the transport squarely, set her on fire and, as her main cargo was
oil, she continued to burn for eight whole days. Bombs from Knight's
aircraft sank a 700-ton schooner lying alongside.
Wellington bombers—some of them detached from squadrons in
Egypt—continued the assault by night. Ships and port facilities in
places as far apart as Naples, Benghazi, Tripoli and Taranto were their
main targets, but when Auchinleck began his CRUSADER offensive, they
also flew over to bomb the main enemy airfields in Cyrenaica at Berka
and Benina and the air depot at Castel Benito near Tripoli. In the six
months ending December 1941, the Wellingtons at Malta flew well over
one thousand sorties. ‘It was an incredible achievement,’ says Lloyd.
‘The crews never asked for a rest but continued to go out night after
night despite the weather. In the autumn heavy rains played havoc with
the taxi tracks and dispersal points at Luqa and it became impossible
to move aircraft at night so that on their return the Wellingtons had
to remain on the airfield until it was light enough to taxi away; this
was an added strain on the pilots.’
Flying Officer Ashworth,
Squadron Leader A. Ashworth, DSO, DFC and bar, AFC; RAF; born Gisborne,
3 May 1920; draughtsman; joined RNZAFSep 1939; transferred RAFJun 1940; Air
Staff, Pathfinder Force, 1942–43.
Pilot Officers Easton
Flight Lieutenant G. H. Easton; born Christchurch, 7 Nov 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF4 Jun 1940.
and Munro
Flight Lieutenant R. C. Munro, DFC; born Wellington, 21 Mar 1918; clerk; joined
RNZAF4 Jun 1940.
and
Flight Sergeants Walsh,
Warrant Officer J. A. E. Walsh; born Stratford, 6 Nov 1915; warehouseman; joined
RNZAF7 May 1940; killed on air operations, 9 Apr 1943.
Thornton
Flight Lieutenant P. S. G. Thornton; born Tolaga Bay, 1 Sep 1915; shop assistant;
joined RNZAF28 Sep 1940.
and Lewthwaite
Flight Lieutenant J. F. Lewthwaite; born Christchurch, 2 Nov 1918; student teacher;
joined RNZAF29 Sep 1940; killed on air operations, 5 Jan 1942.
all piloted
Wellingtons from Malta during this period, while Pilot Officer Ball
Squadron Leader W. A. C. Ball, DFC; born Palmerston North, 14 Sep 1916; insurance
clerk; joined RNZAFOct 1939; killed on air operations, 9 Mar 1943.
was a navigator and Flight Sergeant Holford
Warrant Officer R. G. Holford; born Christchurch, 30 Oct 1918; clerk; joined RNZAFOct 1939; killed in aircraft accident, 22 May 1945.
a gunner.
In the circumstances of the time, casualties and crashes were not
infrequent. Lewthwaite and his crew were lost during an attack on the
airfield at Castelvetrano in Sicily; after one October raid on Naples,
Flight Sergeant Thornton's Wellington crashed on landing: the front
gunner was killed, three other members of the crew were injured and
Thornton himself seriously hurt. And Flying Officer Ashworth relates
how: ‘Returning from Tripoli one night it wasn't until touching down
that I discovered we had no brakes. They had been put out of action
by anti-aircraft fire and we just ran on and on until stopped by a stone
wall. On the far side of that wall was a quarry about one hundred
feet deep.’
While the Blenheims and Wellingtons thus maintained their attack
on the enemy's supply routes, the Sunderland flying-boats continued
to do yeoman service, transporting supplies and personnel to the island
as well as providing sea reconnaissance. These were usually uneventful
missions but, towards the end of December 1941, Flight Lieutenant
S. W. R. Hughes and his crew were involved in a remarkable episode.
They had taken off from Aboukir in Egypt shortly after midnight,
bound for Malta with supplies. On board as passengers were Pilot
Officer Easton and his crew, whose Wellington bomber had crashed
in North Africa and who were returning to Malta. Here is the story
of what happened.
The Sunderland flew on, hugging the friendly coast of North Cyrenaica,
but when approximately fifty miles north-east of Benghazi it was attacked
by two Messerschmitt 110 fighters. The encounter was brief: one of the
Messerschmitts was probably destroyed and the other retired; but two
Royal Air Force gunners were wounded, one seriously, and a passenger
was killed, while the two starboard engines of the Sunderland were put out
of action and the starboard aileron shot away. Land was just in sight, and
as the aircraft rapidly lost height, Flight Lieutenant Hughes, exercising all
his experience, succeeded in turning it into the wind and made a safe landing
on the water. A heavy sea was running, and the Sunderland ricochetted
twice before it finally came to rest. The starboard wing-tip float was smashed,
but the crew kept the flying boat from capsizing by ranging their weight
along the port wing and ensuring that the good float remained in the water.
In this fashion, behind a strong north-east wind, the Sunderland ‘sailed’
stern first into land. It struck a reef, and two hours later was still firmly
lodged and beginning to break up. An attempt had to be made to reach the
shore. The wounded man was given morphia, put into the only serviceable
dinghy and towed through the surf. In all, there were twenty men on board
the aircraft, and two at a time they slid down the wing into the sea. The
second-pilot was nearly drowned as a strong undertow carried him away,
but Flight Lieutenant Hughes, who was a strong swimmer, eventually
dragged him ashore after a struggle lasting nearly half an hour.
By mid-day the party found themselves on a rocky beach, which they
estimated, accurately, to be approximately 100 miles east of Benghazi.
Italian soldiers suddenly appeared from behind a wall of rocks, and Flight
Lieutenant Hughes decided to go forward and surrender as his exhausted
party was without arms. To his astonishment the nearest Italian raised his
rifle above his head, threw it away ostentatiously, and advanced with outstretched hands. The British party had not quite recovered from seeing the
soldiers behave as friends when another group of about eighty Italians
arrived. This group was more aggressive and formally declared the British
party to be their prisoners. Hughes, however, had one duty to fulfil, and
with the pretext of searching for the wounded gunner's flying boots he
returned to the wreck and jettisoned into the sea a bag of one hundred
pounds' weight of gold sovereigns, which had been destined for the Malta
Exchequer. Back on shore, a stretcher made of oars from the dinghy was
improvised for the wounded man, and in a long procession the mixed band
started off along the coast. It was raining and streaks of lightning lit up a
leaden sky. Night came, and with it small comfort. There were no blankets,
rations, or water, and no fires were allowed as the Italians feared Arab
sharpshooters. The second-pilot and the gunner were both suffering from
shock, and the party huddled around them, massaging them constantly in
an effort to keep them warm. At dawn another start was made. Suddenly
twenty Italian officers ran forward from a cluster of bushes. Highly agitated,
they indicated to Flight Lieutenant Hughes that the Germans had taken
their vehicles and told them to get to safety as best they could. They offered
to help the party in exchange for favoured treatment should they be captured by the British. Again, for the fourth time, the party was increased in
number, on this occasion by an Italian major with about one hundred men.
The major was a unique personage, middle-aged, with a heavily tanned and
deeply lined face. He carried a cat-o'-nine-tails at his belt, presumably as a
fly-whisk, but he used it for its original purpose later when one of the
British party indignantly announced that an Italian soldier had stolen the
wounded man's flying boots. The thief was flogged in front of his comrades.
Later that day the wounded air-gunner died and the major conducted a form
of military burial.
In due course the party arrived at the Senussi village of El Hania. Here
they were given macaroni and coffee; three eggs were bartered for a wrist
watch and a two-shilling piece, and a bag of dates cost one Egyptian pound.
The major sent for Flight Lieutenant Hughes and told him that he proposed
to leave for Benghazi. The question arose as to who actually held the town
and finally bets were made on it. The Italian decided that he would leave
with his men, allowing the British to remain with the Arabs, and he offered
to leave rifles for their protection. Once the Italians had gone, the Senussi
freely disclosed an abundance of food and sent a messenger towards the
advancing British lines. Hughes and his party decided to follow, hoping to
reach an Indian Army unit which the Arabs reported to be some fifteen
miles away.
The end of this incident was equally remarkable. After walking for an hour
the Royal Air Force party overtook some of the Italian major's men. One
of these ran over to the group, drew his bayonet, propped it against a rock,
and jumped on it until it snapped. There were some two dozen Italians, each
of whom threw away his rifle or handed it over and cheerfully joined the
procession. Similar incidents happened on four occasions, and after three
hours the company was more than a hundred and fifty strong. The British
lines were soon reached, for the Eighth Army was making a bid to take
Benghazi by Christmas, and Flight Lieutenant Hughes, who had successfully
led his men through the whole grim yet whimsical adventure, added his
prisoners to those of the Army.
* * * * *
Malta's offensive against enemy supplies to North Africa proved so
successful that Hitler was compelled to take action against it. Accordingly, in November 1941, he ordered Field Marshal Kesselring, the
soldier turned air commander, who was then conducting operations
in front of Moscow, to move with the whole of his Luftflotte 2 to the
Mediterranean, where he was to ‘suppress’ Malta, ‘obtain air and sea
supremacy in the area’ and ‘establish safe shipping routes to Libya.’
Kesselring wasted no time and by the middle of December the enemy
air forces in Sicily had grown to some 250 long-range bombers and
reconnaissance aircraft and nearly two hundred fighters. Against them
Air Vice-Marshal Lloyd could muster only sixty serviceable bombers
and seventy serviceable fighters, the latter still Hurricanes whose performance was not equal to that of the latest German Messerschmitts.
Not until another three months had passed were a first fifteen Spitfires—our best contemporary fighters—to be spared from the many
hundreds in Fighter Command.
Malta now faced its longest and sternest test. It began in the last
week of December when over two hundred aircraft attacked the island.
Kesselring's first objective was plainly the RAF, for the raids were
concentrated almost entirely against the fighter grounds of Hal Far and
Takali, the bomber airfield at Luqa and the flying-boat base at Kalafrana. At first the Hurricanes, although outclassed by the German
fighters, broke up some of their formations and kept the damage within
tolerable limits. But with the opening days of January 1942 came
heavier attacks and the defence of the island grew increasingly arduous
for the small force of Hurricane fighters; then heavy rains turned the
battered fighter airfields into quagmires so that for a time all squadrons
had to be concentrated on the equally battered but better drained Luqa.
Yet Malta still continued to hit back; in an attack on Castelvetrano
airfield Blenheims destroyed eleven and damaged twenty-eight of a
large force of transport aircraft on the ground; then Wellingtons followed up with a night raid which left another sixteen aircraft ablaze
and blew up a petrol dump. But as the enemy bombing of Malta continued with increasing strength and ferocity, our offensive slackened
and February saw only sixty sorties by bombers and only one enemy
ship sunk.
In March only one day passed without the wail of the air-raid siren
and over 2000 tons of bombs fell on Malta. Very heavy damage was
caused in the harbour area and at the island's airfields; soldiers and
airmen worked day and night clearing the rubble, filling craters, repairing the runways, building protective pens and servicing aircraft;
and the guns and fighters succeeded in shooting down sixty of the
enemy raiders. Yet under the strain of continual attack, Malta's offensive power and even her capacity for self-defence were now diminishing. The arrival of the first few Spitfires at odd intervals during the
month was heartening, but although their pilots took them straight
into action and fought gallantly they could not work miracles; moreover, with limited spares and an almost complete lack of the special
equipment designed for maintaining Spitfire fighters (they were not
just super-Hurricanes but an altogether different machine), it proved
exceedingly difficult to keep them repaired and in action. By the end
of March Lloyd had only nine Spitfires and four Hurricanes serviceable
and the anti-aircraft guns were short of ammunition. Food and other
essential supplies were also running out. The February convoy had
failed to get through and in March all three of the ships that reached
Malta were sunk at their berths before much of their cargo had been
unloaded.
April brought the severest ordeal. That month the enemy cast down
no less than 6728 tons of bombs on Malta, which may well be compared with the 186 tons dropped on Coventry at the height of the blitz
on Britain. Moreover, most of these bombs were directed against the
few square miles at the western end of the island, where lay the main
airfields and the port of Valetta. Soon the airfields were a wilderness of
craters, the docks and their surrounding districts a shambles and Valetta
itself a mass of broken limestone. At the height of the assault, on 20
April, forty-seven Spitfires flew in from the United States carrier Wasp;
but the hopes they raised were soon crushed for the Germans observed
their arrival and, within twenty minutes of the last Spitfire touching
down at Takali, they launched a series of violent attacks on the airfield.
The following morning only twenty-seven fighters were fit for action
and, after the day's fighting, only seventeen. By the end of the
month, Lloyd was down to seven serviceable Spitfires and ‘it was a
continual struggle to hold it at that modest figure.’ Over a hundred
fighters were now awaiting repair. Spares were being used at a far
quicker rate than they were being delivered by air. Men would rob
parts from every unserviceable Spitfire to make others fly, but there
was a limit to that, particularly with engines.
Yet, battered and blasted though it was, Malta refused to admit
defeat. Amazing spirit and powers of endurance were displayed by the
Maltese people; the fighter pilots continued to take off against fantastic
odds; the ground crews, the army gunners and repair teams fought and
worked on under the incessant attack, badly equipped, badly accommodated and often hungry though most of them were. Most remarkable
was the way in which, night after night, reinforcement aircraft were
passed through to Egypt—over three hundred were landed, refuelled
and sent on their way during March and April. This was a nerve-racking business for, apart from the battered airfields and lack of
equipment, there were intruder bombers overhead on most nights.
Often there would be a mad scramble and rush to repair the holes so
that these transit aircraft could be landed; sometimes they would arrive
when the guns were firing, but then the guns would close down and
they would accept the bombs in order to give the aircraft all the illumination they required for their landing, rather than see one of them get
lost or crash. Thus did Malta, in its extremity, continue to serve the
RAF in Egypt—and the Eighth Army.
Towards the end of April, reconnaissance aircraft brought back disturbing news from Sicily. Their photographs showed that the enemy
was preparing airfields for launching gliders and that railway sidings
were being laid alongside them. The Germans and Italians were, in
fact, now well advanced with their plans for Operation HERCULES—the
airborne invasion of Malta.
But the prospect of invasion, alarming though it was, was not the
only danger that threatened. For with the passing weeks the island's
last stocks of fuel and food were ebbing relentlessly away. Both the
February and March convoys had succumbed to German aircraft; no
convoy had sailed in April and the chances of one sailing in May were
remote; Malta was now existing on what could be brought in by submarines, aircraft and fast minelayers like the gallant Welshman. ‘Conditions had become extremely difficult,’ writes Lloyd. ‘The poor quality
of the food had not been noticed at first, then suddenly it began to
take effect. In March it had been clear enough but in April most belts
had to be taken in by two holes and in May by another hole …. Our
diet was a slice and a half of bread with jam for breakfast, bully beef
for lunch with one slice of bread, and except for an additional slice of
bread it was the same fare for dinner. There was sugar but margarine
appeared only every two or three days; even drinking water, lighting
and heating were all rationed. And things which had been taken for
granted closed down. The making of beer required coal so none had
been made for months. Officers and men slept in shelters, in caverns
and dugouts in quarries …. Three hundred slept in one underground
cabin as tight as sardines in a tin and two hundred slept in a disused
tunnel. None had any comfort or warmth. Soon, too, we should want
hundreds of tons of fuel and ammunition ….’
Meanwhile the enemy pilots were showing greater determination in
their attacks. Our fighters were invariably outnumbered, often by as
many as ten to one.
‘We were fighting a stern, uphill battle, and were coming off second best,’
writes one New Zealand Spitfire pilot. ‘We were also feeling the strain, not
only of the continuous air fighting but also of the bombing and the general
living conditions of Malta. Our barrage was also falling away. The gunners
were growing tired and many of the gun barrels were becoming worn. All
of us were getting less sleep for the enemy bombers were coming over in
greater numbers at night when the moon was favourable. They were pressing home these attacks with more determination than previously and were
coming down much lower. We had insufficient night fighters to hold them
all back. With the lengthening days, we were doing longer periods of readiness and the night bombing prevented us from obtaining proper sleep.
We were becoming irritable and on edge.’
‘The civilian population were showing the effects of the strain in somewhat similar fashion. The Maltese appeared to have aged and looked more
haggard and nervous. Less and less of Valetta was standing, half the streets
were blocked with debris and the interiors of the houses were everywhere
spewing out of the doorways. Practically every civilian was living in one
of the rock shelters. Food distribution was becoming more difficult than
ever and the authorities had been forced to set up communal feeding
centres.’
Brennan, Hesselyn and Bateson, Spitfires over Malta.
As April gave place to May, Malta's plight had thus become extremely serious. Indeed, it seemed that her epic of defiance might well
end, not in a last glorious if unavailing fight against the invader, but
in the humiliation of surrender, with the guns silent for need of
ammunition, the aircraft idle for lack of fuel and the defenders weakened
for want of food. But this was the ‘darkest hour before the dawn’ and
with the next few weeks there came new hope for Malta's survival.
Strangely enough, it was the enemy who provided the first relief.
A new campaign in Russia was making heavy demands on German
resources; Hitler was also anxious to take reprisals against Britain for
Bomber Command's mounting offensive, and since Malta appeared to
have been subdued, with substantial supplies reaching Rommel, he
decided to transfer the greater part of Kesselring's bombers to Russia
and France; others would go to Cyrenaica where Rommel was about
to attack. The German calculation at this stage was that, if the Italians
played their part, enough aircraft would still remain in Sicily to keep
Malta ‘neutralised’ until Operation HERCULES could be launched—
somewhere about the end of July. The Italians were not so sure and
with good reason. For only a year earlier the departure of a German
bomber force from Sicily had been the signal for renewed activity on
the part of Malta.
Meantime the aircraft carriers Eagle and Wasp, loaded with Spitfires,
had passed through the Straits of Gibraltar and were ploughing their
way across the Mediterranean towards Malta. On 9 May, somewhere
to the south of Sardinia, they flew off sixty-four fighters. All but two
of them reached the island safely.
This time most elaborate preparations had been made for their reception; a gun barrage was concentrated to protect the airfields while
servicing parties, soldiers as well as airmen, stood ready to receive the
precious Spitfires; in every aircraft pen there was petrol, oil, ammunition and food, and in most a fighter pilot waiting to take over. As the
Spitfires came in runners sprang to guide them to the right spot; and
within five minutes of their touching down on Malta the first arrivals
were refuelled and ready for action. Many times that day German and
Italian aircraft strove to repeat their success of the previous month but
they were met and defeated by the very fighters they had come to
destroy. Further reinforcements followed during the next few weeks,
bringing the total number of Spitfires on the island to over a hundred.
Then, early in June—after a series of most bitter air and sea battles in
which we lost a cruiser, five destroyers, two minesweepers, six merchant ships and over twenty aircraft—two supply ships reached Valetta
and were safely unloaded.
With the arrival of the Spitfires and these dearly bought supplies,
the task of the defenders was, for the time being, greatly eased. Enemy
fighters and bombers continued to come over regularly but their assault
was on a reduced scale and, under cover of stronger fighter defence,
Malta began to renew her offensive. Wellington bombers struck out
again to good effect and they were soon joined by some torpedo-carrying Beauforts; the faithful Marylands increased their reconnaissance sorties, a duty they had never ceased to carry out even at the
height of the enemy attack.
Thus did Malta continue to exist and, as far as her impoverished
state allowed, to hit back at the enemy. But her position was still precarious and, with Rommel now sweeping forward towards Egypt, it
might well be only a matter of weeks before she was isolated and
invaded. Such indeed was still the enemy intention.
During these critical months the exploits and adventures of the New
Zealand airmen were many; and the contribution they made to Malta's
continued survival was quite substantial. Three fighter pilots, Squadron
Leader Lawrence,
Squadron Leader K. A. Lawrence, DFC; born Waitara, 25 Nov 1919; clerk; joined
RAF13 Mar 1939; transferred RNZAF15 Jul 1945; commanded No. 185 Sqdn, Malta,
1942.
Flight Sergeants Hesselyn
Flight Lieutenant R. B. Hesselyn, MBE, DFC, DFM and bar; born Dunedin, 13 Mar
1920; apprentice machinist; joined RNZAFNov 1940; prisoner of war, 3 Oct 1943.
and Rae,
Flight Lieutenant J. D. Rae, DFC and bar; born Auckland, 15 Jan 1919; clerk; joined
RNZAF1 Sep 1940; prisoner of war, 22 Aug 1943.
deserve
special mention, for between them they shot down at least twenty
enemy aircraft, probably destroyed another twelve and damaged something like fourteen more.
Lawrence led Hurricanes through more than four months of the
heaviest fighting, and won recognition as ‘a very fine leader whose
example when the odds were great was of the very best’; he destroyed
four enemy aircraft, damaged seven and probably destroyed two, which
was a very fine achievement in view of the odds at which the Hurricanes fought in the early stages.
Hesselyn was one of the first Spitfire pilots to reach Malta; he flew
off the carrier Eagle early in March and was soon in action. Within the
next few months he shot down no fewer than twelve enemy machines—
in one active period he destroyed five in as many days—and by the end
of May he had won the immediate award of both the Distinguished
Flying Medal and bar.
Rae flew his Spitfire to Malta from the United States carrier Wasp
towards the end of April; a few days after his arrival he was shot down
and wounded; but he returned to flying before the shrapnel wound in
his arm was properly healed and was soon ranked as one of Malta's
finest section leaders; within a matter of weeks he had destroyed five
enemy machines, with another three probables.
Other fighter pilots who flew and fought over Malta during these
months were Flying Officer M. R. B. Ingram, who shot down a Ju88
bomber and shared in the destruction of two more, Flight Sergeants
Sim
Flying Officer R. J. Sim; born Gisborne, 28 Jun 1919; cost clerk; joined RNZAF26 Oct 1940; killed on air operations, 15 Jun 1943.
and Sole
Warrant Officer G. Sole; born Whakatane, 7 Apr 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF24 Nov
1940; killed on air operations, 20 Jan 1944.
and Pilot Officer West,
Squadron Leader J. G. West, DFM; born Palmerston North, 30 Oct 1912; civil servant;
joined RNZAF7 May 1940.
who flew Hurricanes, and
Pilot Officer Mitchell
Pilot Officer H. R. Mitchell; born Deep Creek, Marlborough, 13 Mar 1917; stonemason;
joined RNZAF17 Dec 1939; killed on air operations, 12 May 1942.
and Sergeant Dickson,
Flight Lieutenant G. R. Dickson; born Riverton, 2 Mar 1920; salesman; joined RNZAF22 Dec 1940.
who had flown their
Spitfires off the Wasp towards the end of April.
Here is an episode related by Hesselyn which may recapture for the
reader some of the atmosphere of the air battles in which these men
took part. It was an afternoon in mid-April and heavy raids were
falling on the airfields. Pilots on their way to dispersal at Takali had
to leap into a crater as bombs screamed down to crash nearby. The
raiders passed over and the pilots reached their machines. A few moments later they were ordered off to meet another attack.
We scrambled at three o'clock, climbing south of the island getting to
26,000 feet with the sun behind us. Wood called up and said: ‘Hello Mac.
There's a big plot building up but its taking time to come south. Keep your
present angels and save your gravy. I will tell you when to come in.’ We
stooged around until he gave us the word. Then we sailed in ….
Suddenly, glancing behind, I saw four 109s coming down on me. Three
of them overshot. The fourth made his turn too wide and I got inside him.
I was slightly below when I attacked from 200 yards, firing perhaps 20 feet
ahead of him in the hope that his aircraft and my bullets would arrive at that
spot simultaneously. They did. I kept on firing as I was determined to make
certain of him. He caught fire. Black smoke poured out, he rolled on his
back and went into a vertical dive and straight into the drink.
As he crashed it struck me suddenly that there might be something on
my tail. In my excitement I had forgotten to look but luckily none of the other
109s had dived down on me. Wood now reported that the 88s were diving
on Takali, and I pulled up to 10,000 feet. The next instant the 88s were
diving past my nose and the other boys were coming down from above to
attack them. I picked out one and went for him and as I pressed my gun
button his rear gunner opened fire. I had fired for about a second when my
port cannon packed up. Luckily I was travelling fast. This prevented my
aircraft from slewing from the recoil of my starboard cannon as I was able
to correct with rudder. I concentrated on the 88's starboard motor and
wing root and could see my shells hitting. Bits were flying off him and
flames began spreading as he continued in his dive; he was well ablaze when
he crashed.
Returning to land I had my first experience of being beaten up in the
circuit. A great pall of smoke and dust from the bombing was hanging over
Takali. I made a couple of dummy runs over the airfield and could see that
the landing path was well cratered. Just then I sighted six 109s above at
5,000 feet, waiting to pounce. The other boys were kicking about the circuit
waiting to try and get in. I beetled up Imtafa valley, skipped round some
windmills at the top and swung down a valley on the other side. Again and
again the 109s dived down from above and attacked me. Again and again
I thanked my stars that the ‘Spit’ was such a manoeuvreable aircraft. Each
time I was attacked I turned violently and their shells and bullets whipped
past behind me. It was a nerve-racking business. With all the violent turning
and twisting I began to feel very sick. My neck ached from constantly twisting from side to side, looking back and from holding it up while doing
tight turns against the extra gravity force. Eventually Mac said that we
were to go in and he would cover us.
I started a normal circuit about 300 feet above the airfield, put my wheels
and flaps down, did weaving approach and, as my wheels touched ground
felt a sigh of relief. I taxied to my pen, forgetting to put up my flaps. All
I could do when I got there was to lie back in the cockpit and gasp for
breath. The ground crew had to help me out of my aircraft and, dazed and
dizzy, I groped my way along the wing out of my pen.
I met Laddie as I was wandering over to dispersal. Both our tunics were
soaked with perspiration. We looked up to see how Mac was getting on.
He was making his approach about 50 feet up when suddenly two 109s
darted out of the sun. Their shooting, however, was poor and whipping
up his wheels Mac turned sharply into them. The 109s overshot him, carried
on and beat up the aerodrome. Mac made a quick dart, put down his wheels
and managed to get in. He landed with two gallons of petrol—at the pace
we were using it, sufficient fuel for only another two minutes in the air. I
had had five gallons; the others about the same.
Night-fighter patrols, bombing and photographic reconnaissance
missions were also flown by New Zealanders during these months.
The battle in Malta's night skies was less spectacular and usually less
rewarding than that fought by day, but Flight Lieutenant Hayton
Flight Lieutenant G. McL. Hayton, DFC; born Hawera, 12 May 1917; farmhand; joined
RAFJun 1939; died of wounds as a result of enemy action at sea, 20 Oct 1942.
showed remarkable skill as a night-fighter pilot; in just over three
months he intercepted and shot down four enemy bombers and probably destroyed two more. In the field of reconnaissance Flying Officer
Coldbeck
Flight Lieutenant H. G. Coldbeck, DFC; bornChristchurch, 27 Nov 1916; house
decorator; joined RNZAFDec 1940; prisoner of war, 10 Nov 1942.
did fine work as pilot of a photographic Spitfire; in June,
when an attempt was made to run a convoy from Alexandria to Malta,
he made frequent sorties over the main naval base at Taranto, keeping
watch on the Italian Fleet; and that same month Squadron Leader
A. H. Harding captained a radar-equipped aircraft which watched the
ports of Naples and Palermo by night.
Squadron Leader F. J. Steele, Flight Lieutenant Blundell
Flight Lieutenant H. N. Blundell, DFC; born Wellington, 31 May 1911; newspaper
editor; joined RNZAF14 Jan 1940.
and Flying
Officer Grey
Flight Lieutenant J. G. Grey, DFC and bar; born Dunedin, 21 Dec 1917; farmer;
joined RNZAF1 Sep 1940.
won special commendation for their work with the few
Wellington bombers that remained at Malta. Steele, who had already
completed a tour of operations over Europe as a bomber captain, now
flew another twenty-six missions against targets in Italy and Libya;
Blundell, likewise on his second tour—he was a veteran not only of
Germany but also of Crete and the Benghazi ‘mail-run’—was an outstanding navigator who, in addition to flying in raids on Naples,
Taranto, Cagliari and Messina, did excellent work as navigation officer
and bombing leader with his No. 104 Squadron. Grey achieved a fine
record as a pilot with the same unit; after one raid on Naples, he had
the not uncommon experience of returning with one engine out of
action to find his airfield being bombed by the enemy, but he landed
safely although only the barest minimum of light was showing on the
ground. On another mission to attack a supply dump near Tripoli, the
weather in that area was appalling and his was one of the only three
aircraft which found and successfully attacked the target; aircraft from
another squadron which arrived some hours later when the weather
had cleared found it a mass of flames. Such was the spirit shown by
these bomber men who, night after night under most difficult conditions, continued to operate from the battered airfields.
There were other ways in which New Zealanders served Malta at
this time. The Battle of Britain pilot, Wing Commander J. S. McLean,
Wing Commander J. S. McLean, OBE, DFC; RAF; born Hawera, 19 Feb 1912; law
clerk; joined RAFSep 1932; commanded No. 111 Sqdn1941; Wing Leader, North
Weald, 1941; commanded RAF Station, Hunsdon, 1941–42; RAF Station, Catterick,
1943; staff duty, Organisation, No. 10 Fighter Group, 1944; commanded RAF Station,
Predannack, 1945.
despatched the reinforcement Spitfires from the United States carrier
Wasp, aboard which he was spending a period of duty as it shuttled
between Gibraltar and the flying-off position south of Sardinia; previously some fighters had been lost, but by carefully reducing the aircraft weight and increasing the petrol tankage, McLean made the new
arrangements work smoothly and successfully. On Malta itself Wing
Commander Bloxam, as operations officer at Luqa, did much towards
keeping the bomber airfield in action despite the incessant damage; it
needs little imagination to realise what this meant in terms of rain and
mud, bomb craters, unexploded bombs, bogged aircraft and inadequate
equipment; and there were always the reinforcement aircraft to pass
through to Egypt. Mention must also be made here of the work of
Flight Lieutenant R. D. Daniell, who flew Dakota transport aircraft
between Egypt and Malta carrying in supplies and taking out sick or
injured civilians. In one month two Dakotas brought out more than
a thousand passengers, most of them women and children. To Malta
they carried hundreds of pounds of supplies above their authorised
load, including parcels from the New Zealand Club in Cairo, and such
small comforts as were obtainable in Egypt—notably cigarettes, of
which No. 117 Transport Squadron had given up their ration to a man
for distribution by a padre in Malta.
* * * * *
In the high summer of 1942, Malta daily expected invasion. But
enemy operations against the island were always strongly influenced
by events in North Africa, and towards the end of June, following
Rommel's rapid advance and swift capture of Tobruk, the enemy
decided to change his plans—with far-reaching results.
The original design had been for Rommel to pause on the Egyptian
frontier while Malta was invaded and captured; but Rommel was now
eager to press on to Alexandria. Hitler supported him and Mussolini,
although somewhat concerned at ‘Malta's active revival’, agreed that
‘the historic moment to conquer Egypt had now come and must be
exploited.’ Accordingly, the invasion of Malta was postponed and,
instead, Kesselring was ordered to keep her subdued so that Rommel's
supply lines would be safeguarded. Kesselring was alarmed at the
change of plan and pointed out the dangers of Rommel's ‘foolhardy
enterprise’, but Rommel had his way.
So it came about that, in the opening days of July 1942, Malta was
spared from invasion only to come once more under very heavy air
attack. Kesselring now had some five hundred fighters and bombers at
his disposal and in the first fortnight of July they flew about one
thousand sorties against the island. Many times the attacks struck home
against the airfields which were their main objective, but the enemy
planes were given a hot reception by our anti-aircraft batteries, while
the Spitfires by day and the Beaufighters by night shot down an increasing number. At the height of the attack six raiders were destroyed
and nine damaged within an hour. That day the enemy control in
Sicily was heard calling: ‘Look after that bomber in the sea.’ ‘Which
one?’ answered one of their fighter pilots.
By 14 July the new assault on Malta had cost Kesselring forty-four
aircraft, of which thirty-three were bombers. Malta's fighter losses for
the same period were thirty-nine from which, thanks in large part to
the fine work of the Air-Sea Rescue Service, twenty-six pilots survived
to fight again. By mid-July the German attack had begun to weaken.
At this stage Air Vice-Marshal Park took over the air command at
Malta. Thoroughly experienced in leading a vigorous fighter defence,
he at once introduced a system of forward interception similar to that
which he had employed so successfully in the Battle of Britain. Previously, because of the Hurricane's slow rate of climb, pilots had been
compelled, when warned of the enemy's approach from the north, to
gain height to the south of the island and then return to engage the
attackers as they swept in across the coast. But Park felt that with the
advent of the latest Spitfires in considerable numbers ‘the time had
come to put an end to the bombing of our airfields in daylight.’ Accordingly he ordered his pilots to gain height while approaching the enemy
and to intercept not over the island but as far north as possible. This
scheme was an instant success, and in addition to continued slaughter
of the enemy, there was a most welcome reduction in the proportion
of bombs falling on Malta. Indeed, it was not long before the enemy
was driven to adopt the same tactics as in the closing stages of the
Battle of Britain—high-level fighter and fighter-bomber sweeps which
kept the defences at full stretch but accomplished little else.
Having thus gained the initiative, Park was determined to hold it.
At the beginning of August he told his fighter leaders: ‘Because our
Spitfires, using the forward plan of interception, have recently stopped
daylight raids it does not mean that only fighter sweeps are likely to
be encountered over or near Malta in the future. Any sign of defensive
tactics by our fighters will encourage the enemy to reintroduce bombers
or fighter-bombers. Therefore, the more aggressively our fighters are
employed the better will Malta be defended against daylight bombing.’
But Park's concern was not only for Malta's defence. And as far as
conditions allowed, he sent his Beauforts and Wellingtons out to
attack with torpedo and bomb; their operations soon proved highly
profitable.
But to sustain this offensive and, at the same time, maintain Malta's
hard-won air superiority, petrol was urgently needed. Indeed, despite
deliveries by aircraft and submarine, the island was again in desperate
need of supplies; food was still very scarce and bread strictly rationed.
Accordingly, another convoy began to fight its way through from
Gibraltar early in August. This time Malta's aircraft were able to make
a larger contribution to its passage, but before the convoy came within
their range it suffered severely at the hands of enemy bombers and
torpedo-bombers from Sardinia and Sicily. Of fourteen merchant ships
only five, including the crippled tanker Ohio, which was towed in with
decks awash, finally reached Malta. Forty-one enemy aircraft were shot
down but, in addition to the cargo ships sunk, we lost the aircraft
carrier Eagle, two cruisers, a destroyer and eighteen aircraft. At this
high cost, Malta received a new lease of life.
With some three months' petrol now in hand, Park at once stepped
up the attack on the enemy's ports and airfields and, more particularly,
against his shipping; for with Rommel's armies now threatening Egypt
at El Alamein, it was essential to do everything possible to disrupt
their long and vulnerable supply lines.
The torpedo-carrying Beauforts had remarkable success with their
gallant low-level attacks. In three weeks they hit four large cargo ships,
two of which were sunk, one left a blazing wreck and the fourth later
beached; they also torpedoed two tankers, one of which blew up,
throwing the superstructure high in the air, and the other was afterwards found beached and the surrounding sea covered with oil. In
September over 120 sorties were flown from Malta against enemy ships,
and these, in conjunction with others flown from Egypt and the patrols
of our submarines, took increasing toll of the supply convoys.
The enemy soon began to feel the effect of this onslaught. ‘Rommel
is halted in Egypt because of lack of fuel,’ Ciano wrote in his diary.
‘Three of our tankers have been sunk in two days.’ And Admiral
Weichold records: ‘The situation was becoming serious …. at the
front the soldiers of the Afrika Korps fought and conquered but far
from the decisive areas of the land fighting, the British were systematically throttling the supplies of the German-Italian Panzer Army.
In September shipping losses were again very high, with 23,000 tons
sunk and over 9,000 tons damaged.’ In October ‘practically every one
of our convoys was spotted by the British air reconnaissance from
Malta and successfully attacked. Of shipping proceeding to North
Africa, 24,000 tons were lost and over 14,000 tons damaged—an enormous blow to the Italian Transport Fleet. Of the 32,000 tons of German
cargo and 940 vehicles, only 19,000 tons and 580 vehicles reached
North Africa. The loss of fuel was even greater; of almost 10,000 tons,
only 3,300 tons reached Cyrenaica.’
All this was undoubtedly a major contribution to Rommel's defeat
at El Alamein.
Meanwhile, vigorous fighter action from Malta had led to a further
decrease in enemy air activity. In September the number of alerts fell
to thirty-eight and on ten days no enemy aircraft at all approached the
island; at night few bombers got close enough to attack, the rest being
forced to drop their bombs in the sea. But as Malta's renewed striking
power made itself felt, Hitler was compelled to order another blitz
against the obstinate island and once again Kesselring assembled a
large force of fighters and bombers in Sicily.
The new and, as it proved, final assault on Malta began on 10 October
1942. It met with little success. Time and again the enemy formations
which, significantly enough, now consisted of a few bombers heavily
escorted by fighters, were met and broken up well to the north of the
island. After ten days of constant attacks, during which forty-six German aircraft were shot down, Kesselring withdrew his Ju88 bombers
from the battle and thereafter the attacks gradually fell away. By the
end of October, they had practically ceased.
At the height of the assault some bombs fell on Malta's airfields every
day, but they were never put out of action for long. Reconnaissance
aircraft continued their sorties without interruption and there was only
one night when the bombers failed to take off against enemy shipping;
and that was a night on which there were no targets within range of
Malta. Such was the measure of the enemy's failure. Far from knocking
Malta out, he had suffered damaging losses and between five hundred
and six hundred aircraft had been kept tied down in Sicily at a time
when they might have helped him more on other fronts.
New Zealand fighter pilots continued to play their part in patrol and
attack. Two of them, Flying Officer Stenborg
Flight Lieutenant G. Stenborg, DFC; born Auckland, 13 Oct 1921; joined RNZAF9 Jul 1940; killed on air operations, 24 Sep 1943.
and Sergeant Park,
Pilot Officer N. M. Park, DFM; born Gisborne, 6 Mar 1921; shepherd; joined RNZAF3 May 1941; killed on air operations, 25 Oct 1942.
were among Malta's highest scoring pilots at this time. Stenborg landed
on Malta from the carrier Eagle early in June, went into action immediately and within two months had destroyed six Messerschmitts. Twice
he achieved the unusual feat of shooting down two enemy fighters in
one flight. He was finally shot down himself but miraculously survived.
Flung from his Spitfire at 13,000 feet while travelling at over 400 miles
an hour, he landed in the sea five miles from Malta and was picked up
by a rescue launch. Here is his account of that harrowing experience:
I was with an American sergeant flying at 31,000 feet. He saw Messerschmitts which I could not, so I told him to attack and I would follow, but
as he went for six Huns, three more followed him up.
I shot down one from his tail at point-blank range, but the next minute
a great chunk flew off my starboard wing. I heard explosions and the plane
shook everywhere and black smoke poured into the cockpit. I began diving
out of control at 27,000 feet.
I tried to get the hood off, but it would not budge. I tried all ways, while
the Spitfire fell 14,000 feet at over 400 miles an hour, and the cockpit filled
with smoke. I thought had had it. It was a horrible feeling; I was expecting
the plane to blow up at any moment. But fortunately the hood came off, and
I suddenly found myself thrown out. I had seen a German pilot open his
parachute at that speed and his harness was ripped off by the force of the
sheer speed, so I waited for a while before pulling the ripcord in order to
slow up, and then I pulled the cord and landed in the sea.
I spent five minutes trying to get free from the parachute and get the
dinghy working. That trip shook me to the teeth.
Sergeant Park arrived in Malta in mid-July at the same time as his
namesake and commanding officer, Sir Keith Park. In the air battles
of the next three months, he shot down eight enemy aircraft, shared
in the destruction of another and damaged two more. Park was frequently in action during the heavy fighting in October. On the 12th,
he reported three successful encounters. The first came shortly after
dawn while he was on patrol with two other Spitfires from his squadron.
Sighting a formation of seven Ju88 bombers, they made a head-on
attack; Park shot one down and then, despite the efforts of the escorting German and Italian fighters, he turned and destroyed a second.
On patrol again a few hours afterwards he attacked and damaged
another bomber. And two days later he almost certainly destroyed a
Messerschmitt and damaged a Ju88. That these successes were by no
means easily won is shown by his report of a subsequent encounter:
We were patrolling at 21,000 feet, 20 miles north-east of Grand Harbour,
when we sighted nine Junkers 88 with a swarm of fighters heading south.
We turned into the attack, Red I and myself going into the bombers. I got
on one bomber's tail, but my guns had frozen so I broke away, and after
shaking off two attacking Messerschmitt 109s, I dived away down to 10,000
feet. On hearing the Ground Controller broadcast the height and position
of the bombers, I went east to Kalafrana Bay, where the bombers were seen
heading back to the north-east. I tried to intercept them, but was jumped
by two M.E. 109s. I turned quickly to avoid, and after a complete turn got
on a Messerschmitt's tail. I closed in without opening fire to about 100 yards,
when he changed his turn and I gave him a three-second burst from dead
astern. He went into a steep dive straight into the sea.
Unhappily, Park was lost in battle with a large formation of enemy
fighters towards the end of October.
Other Spitfire pilots prominent in the air fighting during these
months were Flying Officer Lattimer,
Flight Lieutenant C. H. Lattimer, DFC; born South Shields, County Durham, 21 Feb
1915; electrical engineer; joined RNZAF27 Oct 1940.
Flight Sergeant Brough
Squadron Leader E. T. Brough, DFC; born Owaka, 20 Jun 1918; butcher; joined
RNZAFApr 1941; commanded No. 137 Sqdn 1944.
and
Sergeants Philp,
Flying Officer G. Philp; born Wellington, 4 Apr 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF13 Apr
1941; killed on air operations, 14 Jan 1944.
Hendry
Flight Lieutenant R. B. Hendry, DFC; born Masterton, 2 Aug 1920; clerk; joined
RNZAFMay 1941.
and Yeatman.
Flight Lieutenant J. F. P. Yeatman, DFC; born Brighton, England, 17 Feb 1919;
clerk; joined RNZAF23 Mar 1941.
During these months Lattimer was credited with the destruction of four enemy planes and
damage to others; while taking part in the patrols that were flown to
cover the arrival of the crippled tanker Ohio, Philp shot down one
Ju87 dive-bomber and shared in the destruction of another. Hendry
and Yeatman each reported successful combats during the October
fighting. It is also interesting to record that the fighter airfield at Hal
Far from which many of our pilots operated was commanded throughout the second half of 1942 by Wing Commander Dawson,
Wing Commander H. L. Dawson, DFC; RAF (retd); born Ellerslie, Auckland, 19 Feb
1914; joined RAF1934; commanded RAF Station, Hal Far, Malta, 1942–43; served
with D of AT, Air Ministry, 1943–44.
himself
an experienced fighter pilot, who had led Hurricanes in sweeps over
France and had also made special low-level reconnaissances over enemy
territory from Malta.
Operating against enemy shipping with a Beaufort squadron, Pilot
Officer Low
Flying Officer J. H. Low, DFC; born Bluff, 6 Apr 1918; railway porter; joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940; accidentally killed in New Zealand, 24 Mar 1944.
flew twenty-three sorties as wireless operator—air gunner
during his tour of duty at Malta. On one occasion a flight of his
squadron was sent against a convoy of four merchant vessels and eleven
destroyers, escorted by Italian fighters. Three of the fighters attacked
his Beaufort during its final approach to release the torpedo, but Low's
fire-control orders from his vantage point in the mid-upper turret enabled the attacks to be beaten off and the torpedo hit a merchant
vessel. Sergeants A. R. Brown,
Warrant Officer A. R. Brown, DFC; born Timaru, 5 Sep 1915; labourer; joined RNZAFDec 1940.
Parker,
Warrant Officer C. L. Parker; born New Plymouth, 20 Dec 1918; carpenter; joined
RNZAF21 Dec 1940; prisoner of war, 20 Aug 1942.
Scullin
Warrant Officer P. P. Scullin; born Napier, 9 May 1918; salesman; joined RNZAF21 Dec 1940; prisoner of war, 20 Aug 1942.
and Wilkinson
Flight Lieutenant J. A. Wilkinson, DFM; born Gisborne, 8 Nov 1919; farmer; joined
RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
flew
on similar operations with the Beauforts, while on reconnaissance for
targets Flying Officer Coldbeck and Sergeant Gillions
Warrant Officer F. R. S. Gillions; born London, 19 Jul 1916; stores clerk; joined
RNZAF18 Feb 1941; prisoner of war, 19 Sep 1942.
did particularly
good work as pilots of photographic Spitfires.
An amazing experience, unique in the air war, was shared by Brown
and Wilkinson towards the end of July 1942. The Beaufort in which
they were wireless operator-air gunners was hit during an attack on
a convoy off the west coast of Greece and forced to land on the sea.
It sank quickly but the crew managed to climb into their dinghy and
began paddling towards the coast. Presently an Italian Cant float plane
alighted on the sea near them. The Beaufort pilot, South African Lieutenant E. T. Strever, swam over to it and was received with brandy
and cigarettes; shortly afterwards the rest of his crew were picked up
and treated likewise, then the Cant taxied slowly to a harbour in the
island of Corfu. Here the prisoners were taken to a camp, where the
Italians again showed them every consideration, and an excellent dinner
was followed by a lively party in the evening and comfortable beds in
rooms vacated by Italian officers.
The next morning their captors informed them they would be taken
to Italy by air. At this their hearts sank for this mode of transport
offered no chance of escape. The only possibility, they decided, was to
capture the plane; but how this was to be done no one knew.
Down at the harbour, their aircraft proved to be the same Cant with
its crew of four, together with a corporal escort carrying a revolver.
The plane took off and set course westwards; and for a while the flight
proceeded uneventfully. Then suddenly Wilkinson saw an opportunity.
Attracting the observer's attention, he hit him heavily on the jaw,
jumped over his falling body and seized the astonished escort's revolver.
Passing this to Strever he moved towards the pilot, using the corporal
as shield. Strever followed close behind brandishing the revolver at
the pilot, who attempted to draw his own gun and put the aircraft
down on the water but, threatened again, he levelled out the aircraft
and submitted to capture. Meanwhile Brown and his English navigator
had disarmed and tied up the other Italians with their own belts; Strever
now took over the controls.
The next problem was how to fly a strange aircraft without knowledge of its instruments, so they put the Italian second-pilot at the
controls and set a rough course for Malta. At length they recognised
the toe of Italy and, taking a chance in the matter of petrol, ordered
the pilot to turn south for Malta. Eventually the island was sighted,
but as the float plane came in low, three Spitfires swept down upon it.
All efforts to explain the situation, including the waving of the navigator's singlet, proved unavailing, and when a stream of bullets poured
through the wing Strever decided that the time had come to put down
on the water. As the Cant landed, its engines spluttered and stopped
from lack of petrol. It remained only for the captives, now turned
captors, to climb out and signal frantically to the Spitfires, and before
long a launch appeared to tow them in.
The British crew, feeling a little conscience-stricken at the way they
had repaid the Italians' hospitality, could only offer their apologies and
do all they could for the comfort of their captives. The latter cheerfully
accepted the situation although they had, in fact, been proceeding on
leave to the mainland—one of them even produced a bottle of wine
which he insisted on sharing with the men who had so neatly turned
the tables on him and his comrades.
* * * * *
Malta now emerged triumphant from her long ordeal. For the victory
of Park and his men in the October fighting had been decisive and the
Germans, faced with a heavy Allied offensive from Egypt and a simultaneous attack from Algeria, could no longer spare forces to launch
another assault. On 16 November 1942, a convoy sailed from Egypt
to relieve the island. It was covered by aircraft of the Desert Air Force
operating from their newly captured bases in Cyrenaica, and although
attacked by torpedo-bombers during the passage across, it reached the
approaches to Malta intact. Beaufighters and Spitfires flew out to cover
the last 135 miles of the convoy's voyage and Wellingtons bombed the
Sicilian airfields during its approach. The long line of ships entering
Grand Harbour presented an easy target for enemy bombers; but none
came. On every vantage point and amid the debris of their bombed
buildings, the people and garrison stood to watch and cheer these
ships. Naval bands played on the escort vessels. And during the following days the unloading proceeded uninterrupted, save for the sound
of the Spitfires patrolling above. The relief had arrived none too soon
for Park's squadrons were reduced to about a week's supply of aviation
petrol; apart from this, near-starvation, disease, infantile paralysis and
all the after-effects of undernourishment were to be found in Malta
in the autumn of 1942.
The advent of fresh supplies enabled Park to intensify the air offensive and give full support to the campaigns in Cyrenaica and in Algeria.
More Wellingtons and Beaufighters arrived and Spitfires, adapted by
local ingenuity to carry two 250 Ib. bombs beneath their wings, were
now employed as fighter-bombers. On the night of 7 November, the
Wellingtons struck at Cagliari airfield as a diversion for the initial
landings in Algeria; thereafter they operated on every night except
four in November and every night except seven in December,
in spite of a good deal of bad weather towards the end of the year.
Their principal targets were the enemy's ports and airfields in Tunisia
and his air bases in Sicily and Sardinia, most of which were near enough
for the bombers to make two sorties each on many nights. Substantial
damage was done to port installations, railways, stores, petrol dumps
and airfields—and photographic reconnaissance revealed that on several
days in November the chief German air base at El Aouina in Tunisia
was out of action because of the many craters in the landing area.
The Beaufighters operated with increasing success. Sweeping over
the area bounded by Tunis, Sirte and Tripoli, they attacked shipping
with bomb, cannon and machine gun; they also strafed aerodromes,
shot up trains and transport columns and, in company with Spitfires,
intercepted enemy air convoys on their way to and from Africa. One
day early in December six Beaufighters and eight Spitfires on a sweep
off Pantellaria sighted two large formations of Ju52 transports escorted
by Ju88s and Me110s. The Spitfires took on the escort and, having
shot down four of them, overtook the transports and destroyed two,
probably destroyed another and damaged two more. Meanwhile the
Beaufighters had shot down no fewer than six Ju52s and damaged
four more. An Me110 which came up to see what was happening was
promptly shot down by the Spitfires; we lost only one Beaufighter,
with two others and a Spitfire damaged. Altogether, during November
and December, the Beaufighters and Spitfires destroyed over fifty
transport aircraft in the air and many others on the ground.
Spitfire bombers, which had been prevented from operating by the
shortage of fuel, began harassing attacks on Sicilian aerodromes towards the end of November; by the end of the following month they
had flown a total of 133 sorties, bombing and strafing airfield buildings
and grounded aircraft at Comiso, Gela and Lampedusa. And along with
this mounting offensive both by bombers and fighters, the reconnaissance aircraft kept up their valuable sorties over enemy airfields, ports
and naval bases, while the torpedo-bombers—Beauforts by day and
Wellingtons by night—continued their highly effective attacks on
enemy ships.
Malta's efforts to help others did not pass unnoticed. During November, Eisenhower was ‘most grateful for splendid support afforded
by air operations from Malta’, and Montgomery later paid high tribute
to Park and his men for ‘the great assistance rendered to the Eighth
Army during the advance along the African Desert.’
With the early months of 1943, Malta swung more and more over
to the attack. Convoys were now arriving steadily with war material
and enemy air activity had fallen away so much that it was quite an
event when a few Messerschmitts flew high over the coast. Fighters,
bombers and fighter-bombers ranged out in greater strength to strike
at the enemy over a wide area; they bombed and machine-gunned
his ports and airfields; they attacked his ships both in harbour and at
sea; they strafed his columns on the coast road between Tripoli and
Tunis; and they shot up railways in Sicily and Italy.
This last activity grew in importance as the months passed for the
enemy relied largely on the railways to run material down to Sicily,
where it could be loaded on small craft bound for Tunisia. The railways
which follow the coast southward from Naples and Taranto to meet opposite the Messina train ferry, and the railway leading westward along
the north coast of Sicily to Palermo, became a happy hunting ground for
Mosquitos, Beaufighters and Spitfires. And the results of their attacks
were quite spectacular. In January, fourteen locomotives were reported
destroyed or severely damaged; in February there were thirty; and in
March the figure rose to seventy-four, permanently or temporarily out
of action. Reconnaissance aircraft also maintained a high level of
activity, keeping watch on all enemy movements, on his embarkation
ports and the routes by which he attempted to run supplies to North
Africa. For it was on the information brought back by the photographic
Spitfires and Baltimores that the striking forces were briefed.
In the months of January, February and March, Malta's bombers
and torpedo-bombers claimed nine vessels sunk, fourteen probably
sunk and many others damaged. A typical strike was made in mid-
March when a reconnaissance Baltimore sighted a southbound convoy,
with a destroyer escort, in the Gulf of Taranto. Nine Beauforts, escorted
by Beaufighters, were briefed to attack, and some five hours later found
the convoy protected by about fifteen Me110s and Ju88s. While the
Beaufighters engaged the air escort, the Beauforts went for the largest
vessel, a tanker of about 8000 tons. Three hits were seen, a column of
water and a cloud of smoke rose from the ship and more smoke poured
from its decks. A Baltimore sent to photograph the results of the action
could find nothing except a Ju88 and a twin-engined flying-boat
circling a patch of oil, a quarter of a mile in diameter.
In all these various operations New Zealand airmen were well represented. With the Wellington bombers, Wing Commander J. E. S.
Morton, Flight Lieutenant McLachlan
Flight Lieutenant L. McLachlan; born Waimate, 30 Nov 1919; farm worker; joined
RNZAF13 Apr 1941; killed on air operations, 4 Mar 1943.
and Flying Officer A. B. Smith
of No. 40 Squadron, together with Flight Lieutenant H. H. Beale,
Flight Sergeant Sommerville
Flying Officer R. L. Sommerville, DFM; born Torquay, England, 5 May 1919; clerk;
joined RNZAF2 Mar 1941.
and Sergeant Muggeridge
Flight Lieutenant M. D. Muggeridge, DFM; born Manutahi, 27 Nov 1921; farmer;
joined RNZAF24 May 1941.
of No. 104
Squadron, all achieved a fine record as captains of aircraft.
Morton, who commanded his squadron at Malta, was described as
‘one of the outstanding bomber pilots operating from Malta at this
time.’ On one occasion when Bizerta was covered with low cloud, he
went in below it and, despite searchlights and intense anti-aircraft fire,
hit the railway junction by the dockside; on another night he scored
a direct hit on a merchant vessel in a small harbour near Tunis, his
success being confirmed by other aircraft. McLachlan and Smith both
made a series of good attacks in the offensive against Tripoli, Sfax,
Sousse, Tunis and Bizerta and on the Sicilian supply ports. Beale,
Sommerville and Muggeridge also flew consistently and effectively with
their squadron against these targets.
All displayed those essential qualities of a good bomber pilot—careful flight planning, with reliable and steady flying. Nor did they lack
courage when the occasion demanded. On the airfield one night Beale
drove up to a crashed aircraft which was burning with a bomb load
on board, and just before the machine blew up he got a lorry away—
for transport of any kind was at a premium on Malta. Muggeridge
bombed targets on three occasions when his Wellington had already
been damaged and he was quite entitled to turn away for base; Sommerville made a particularly determined attack on the port of Tripoli in
January 1943, despite an unusually intense and accurate barrage of anti-aircraft fire. Also with No. 104 Squadron were Flying Officers R. C. Earl
and Parker,
Squadron Leader J. C. Parker, DFC and bar; born Motueka, 22 Apr 1920; clerk;
joined RNZAF22 Dec 1940.
both of whom captained bomber aircraft, and Flying
Officer Peterson,
Flight Lieutenant R. J. Peterson, DFC; born Stratford, 11 Dec 1909; plasterer; joined
RNZAF22 Dec 1940.
who did good work as air gunner and unit gunnery
leader.
In the fighter and fighter-bomber missions, Squadron Leader R. M.
Mackenzie and his navigator, Flying Officer A. L. Craig, formed a
highly successful Beaufighter crew. They flew some of the first intruder
sorties over Sicily and also carried out a number of shipping patrols.
Mackenzie, who had earlier pioneered Beaufighter operations from
Egypt against Crete and Cyrenaica, commanded the first detachment
of his squadron at Malta. Flying Officer McGregor
Flight Lieutenant W. Y. McGregor, DFC; born Dunedin, 28 Nov 1916; carpenter;
joined RNZAFMay 1941; killed on air operations, 2 Sep 1943.
also flew Beaufighters in sweeps over Sicily and Tunisia at this time.
Squadron Leader Crafts
Squadron Leader H. A. Crafts; born Auckland, 5 Sep 1917; civil servant; joined RNZAF1 Dec 1940; commanded No. 185 Sqdn, Malta, 1943.
led a Spitfire squadron with notable success
in attacks on enemy airfields and on Italian railway traffic; Sergeants
Houlton,
Flight Lieutenant J. A. Houlton, DFC; born Christchurch, 23 Sep 1922; civil servant;
joined RNZAFJun 1941.
Hendry, Mortimer
Flight Lieutenant J. E. Mortimer, DFC; born Auckland, 12 Jul 1916; warehouseman;
joined RNZAF13 Apr 1941; shot down over Somme Estuary, 3 Oct 1943; evaded
capture for eleven months; reported safe 8 Sep 1944.
and Pilot Officer Piggott
Flight Lieutenant D. A. Piggott; born Auckland, 31 May 1921; engineer cadet; joined
RNZAF25 May 1941.
also flew
Spitfires on many such missions. On one occasion Houlton was returning from an attack on the airfield at Gela in Sicily when he sighted a
formation of eight Ju52 transports flying about 1000 feet above the
sea. He attacked three of the aircraft in turn. The first held its formation but the second was definitely hit and turned back towards Sicily;
the troops in the third aircraft put up a barrage of small-arms fire from
the windows, but Houlton saw his own guns register hits round the
pilot's cockpit and when last seen the transport was losing height very
close to the sea.
Hendry, Piggott and Mortimer each reported successful actions during a sweep over the Sicily-Tunis channel. North of Cape Bon, Hendry
and Piggott caught an Italian Fiat Br20 bomber at sea level and made
a simultaneous attack; both engines were hit and the aircraft immediately plunged into the sea, where it exploded in a sheet of flame. Fifteen
minutes later the Spitfires intercepted an aerial train of some thirty
transports flying at sea level, escorted by long-range Messerschmitts.
Mortimer was engaged by one of the German fighters but he eventually
drove it off with black smoke pouring from its starboard engine.
Hendry saw a large four-engined Ju90 detach itself from the main body
of the transports and climb slowly towards the safety of cloud cover;
he overtook it and was able to fire a burst just as it disappeared. Climbing sharply, he picked out the ponderous shape of the Junkers passing
below him through breaks in the cloud. He opened fire and scored
strikes on the starboard wing, which began to trail black smoke; when
he last saw it the transport was steadily losing height.
A less spectacular but most valuable contribution was made by the
crews of the Wellington torpedo-bombers now based at Malta. These
aircraft operated mainly at night against targets that were found and
illuminated for them by other Wellingtons equipped with radar and
carrying flares. Squadron Leader Harding won special commendation
for his work as a search pilot and his skilful illumination of shipping,
while Flight Sergeant W. Hornung and Sergeant W. A. Fraser did very
good work as captains of attacking aircraft.
One night in January 1943, Hornung attacked an enemy cargo
vessel of some 4000 tons, escorted by a destroyer; there was a barrage
of light anti-aircraft fire from both ships during his attack and breakaway, but at least one of the two torpedoes struck the merchant vessel,
which immediately burst into flames.
Fraser had an exceptional fortnight at the beginning of February.
On the 2nd, he was despatched against a 6000-ton tanker which two
search aircraft had picked up in a convoy off the south-east coast of
Italy. When he reached the area the illuminating Wellington had only
one flare left, and because of the position in which it fell, Fraser had to
make a difficult head-on attack in order to silhouette the tanker and
avoid the two escorting destroyers. But he managed to release his first
torpedo at a range of 700 yards and get away before either destroyer
could fire a shot. The tanker caught fire and was subsequently beached.
Five days later Fraser shared in seriously damaging a 6000-ton merchant ship. Then, on 15 February, he attacked a second tanker of 5000
tons. It was escorted by two destroyers and intense anti-aircraft fire
damaged the Wellington and wounded one of the crew, but Fraser had
the satisfaction of seeing his torpedo strike the tanker amidships.
During the spring and early summer of 1943, Park's squadrons continued the offensive with increasing vigour. They played an important
part in the short but fiercely contested campaign in Tunisia which came
in April as the Eighth Army advance from Libya linked up with that
of the Anglo-American armies from Algeria. Simultaneously, they were
making intensive preparations for the assault on Sicily. For Malta was
soon to enjoy the sweet revenge of acting as a stepping-stone for the
invasion of that island which had tormented her for so long; and she
would also help with the landings in Italy.
By the end of May 1943, there were 600 first-line aircraft at Malta
as against 200 only six months previously; among the new arrivals that
month were four whole Spitfire wings and more Mosquito and Beaufighter squadrons. New landing grounds—one of them built in the
record time of twenty-eight days—had been blasted out of rock and
old airfields greatly enlarged to take the expanding air force. New operations room and additional signals facilities had been provided and
the island restocked with technical spares, fuel and other equipment.
Thus equipped and armed, Malta dominated the central Mediterranean
and provided a forward striking base for the coming invasion of Italy
by the Allied forces.
So the wheel turned full circle. And, in September 1943, by which
time Sicily had been conquered and Italy invaded, they paused to
remember. That month ‘Faith’, the sole survivor of the three original
Gladiator fighters which had faced the first onslaught of the Italian
Air Force, was brought from the bottom of a quarry where she had
lain for nearly three years and, with appropriate ceremony, presented
to the people of Malta by Air Marshal Sir Keith Park. And there, in
honoured place, she stands today, a symbol of the courage and fortitude
with which the long battle of Malta was fought.
CHAPTER 7Sicily
LESS than two months after the Allied triumph in Tunisia came
the first full-scale assault against European soil with the invasion
of Sicily. This great enterprise was the culmination of preparations
which had gone ahead since the Casablanca Conference of January
1943. Confident of an early conclusion to the North African campaign,
the Combined Chiefs of Staff had then agreed that Sicily, the stepping-stone between Tunisia and Italy, should be invaded during ‘the favourable period of the July moon.’ There was little chance that the Allies
would be ready to invade the Continent from the United Kingdom
before 1944 and operations against Sicily offered an opportunity of
using the forces concentrated in North Africa to the best advantage.
The main prize to be won was the complete reopening of the Mediterranean sea routes to Allied shipping. In addition, new air bases would
be secured from which to attack the southern flank of Europe, the
threat to Italy would be increased and a proportion of enemy strength
drawn away from the Russian front.
In planning the invasion of Sicily, the Combined Allied Staff at
Algiers had to consider matters of geography before deciding on the
strength of the attack, its timing and its exact location. The island itself
has been compared to a ‘jagged arrow-head with the broken point to
the West.’ Its terrain is favourable to defence. There are many peaks
of over 3000 feet which dominate a series of plains, of which the largest,
to the south and west of Catania, is overlooked by the volcano of Etna.
Around the coast, except for a short strip in the north, there runs a
narrow belt of low country through which passes a highway which
encircles the island. There are four main ports, Messina in the north-east, Palermo in the north-west, Catania and Syracuse in the east. Early
in 1943 there were nineteen airfields on the island; by July this number
had risen to thirty. They were in three main groups: the eastern group
between Catania and Gerbini, the south-east group at Comiso-Biscari-Ponte Olivo, and the western group at and about Castelvetrano. The
best-equipped was that at Catania-Gerbini, where most of the Luftwaffe
was located. Occupation of this group would allow Allied aircraft to
cover the Messina Straits and would prevent the enemy air forces from
maintaining themselves on the island. They would then be driven back
to the nearest large airfields in Italy, at Naples and Brindisi.
How to achieve the early capture of ports and at the same time secure
some of the main airfields was the question upon which all else depended. Messina, the largest port, was quickly ruled out for it was
beyond the range of fighters stationed in Malta and Tunisia, was difficult to approach from the sea and, moreover, was heavily defended.
Catania was at extreme fighter range, but its early capture would provide the key to the eastern group of airfields. However, its unloading
facilities were only sufficient to maintain a maximum of six divisions,
so it was considered necessary to secure Palermo as well. Montgomery
disliked the dispersion this involved and urged that the assault should
fall entirely on the east coast of Sicily. But this suggestion conflicted
with the need to secure as many airfields as possible at an early stage.
Eventually General Alexander, who regarded the air situation as of
first importance, decided that the Eighth Army under General Montgomery and the Seventh Army under General Patton should assault
side by side in the south-east of the island along a front of one hundred
miles between Syracuse and Licata. The important airfield centre at
Ponte Olivo would thus soon be captured, and once the ports of
Syracuse and Augusta were taken they could be used to maintain the
Eighth Army; the Americans, however, would be dependent on what
could be brought in over open beaches, except for the limited capacity
of the small port of Licata. Two things in favour of the Allies in this
undertaking were the expectation of good weather for beach maintenance and the possession of an amphibious vehicle, the DUKW, better
known as ‘The Duck’. The great faith placed in this new invention was
quickly justified for it was to revolutionise the problems of beach
maintenance.
The final plan for Operation HUSKY, as the invasion was known,
was approved by the Combined Chiefs of Staff on 13 May, the day
which brought the end of hostilities in Tunisia. The operation was to
be divided into five phases. First of all there would be the preparatory
measures to gain air supremacy and counter enemy naval effort. Then
would follow the seaborne assault, assisted by airborne landings to
seize adjacent airfields and the ports of Syracuse and Licata. The third
phase would be the establishing of a firm base from which to launch
ground attacks against Augusta, Catania and the Gerbini group of
airfields. The fourth phase was the capture of these objectives and the
last the complete reduction of the island. The whole operation would
be under the control of General Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied
Commander; General Alexander was to command the ground forces
engaged, Air Chief Marshal Tedder would command the combined
air forces and Admiral Cunningham the naval forces.
In Tedder's air command, Major-General Carl Spaatz was in charge
of the North-west African Air Force, taking a direct part in the in-
vasioninvasion, and Air Vice-Marshal Sir Keith Park was in command at
Malta. The North-west African Tactical Air Force was led by Sir
Arthur Coningham, with a United States major-general as his deputy.
Coningham's command comprised the Desert Air Force, Twelfth
Support Command and the newly constituted Tactical Bombing Force.
Thus he had under his control all those Allied air forces destined to
appear over the Sicilian battlefields in immediate or close support of
the armies. The North-west African Strategic Air Force, under General
Doolittle, was made up of two United States bombardment wings
and the Wellingtons of No. 205 Group, Royal Air Force. Allied sea
communications were protected by the North-west African Coastal
Air Force under Air Vice-Marshal Sir Hugh P. Lloyd. Finally there
were the Dakotas of United StatesTroop Carrier Command and a
photo-reconnaissance wing. Altogether a total of 267 squadrons were
available to take part in the invasion, of which 146 were American and
121 British. The Americans had the preponderance of heavy and medium bombers and transport aircraft while the RAF was stronger in
fighters and fighter bombers.
Malta was the base for a formidable part of this concentration of
Allied air power. No longer a beleaguered fortress but an offensive
base packed with aircraft, the island was now capable of sustained
fighter operations in preparation for the invasion, and subsequently
in protection of the assault convoys and the landing beaches. Work
had proceeded apace in improving the island's existing air facilities.
Great quantities of stores had been brought in; a fighter operations
room to handle thirty squadrons had been tunnelled underground, a
new filter room built and an up-to-date radar system installed. This
transformation at Malta was largely due to the energy and drive of
Park, and by the time of the invasion he controlled over 600 aircraft,
mostly fighters, based at Malta, Gozo and Pantellaria.
Opposing the total Allied strength of almost 5000 serviceable aircraft there was a mixed German and Italian force of some 1800 machines,
of which approximately 1000 were serviceable at the beginning of July.
They were based in Italy, Sicily, Sardinia and the south of France. The
Germans had now reinforced their southern front in Europe by 440
aircraft, despite persistent demands for additional machines for the
Russian front—and the fact that well over half the reinforcement aircraft were single-engined fighters reveals the importance that was
attached to the new Allied threat. There were also important changes
in the Luftwaffe organisation and leadership. The southern theatre,
hitherto centralised under Kesselring, was now divided into two
commands, Central Mediterranean and the Balkans, each of Luftflotte
status; Kesselring even managed to obtain a number of very experienced officers from the Russian front. General Field-Marshal von
Richthoven, the acknowledged German expert on ground attack, was
transferred to command Luftflotte 2 in the Central Mediterranean. The
bomber units were commanded by General-Major Peltz, a rising young
officer who, in the following year, was to command the German forces
which launched the ‘Baby Blitz’ against London. Nevertheless the
Luftwaffe in the Mediterranean was still unequal to the task which now
confronted it. There had been heavy losses of aircraft, spares and experienced air and ground crews during the North African campaign.
And there was an increasing lack of co-operation on the part of the
Italians.
The British and American air forces had begun to prepare for the
Sicily invasion even before the fighting in Tunisia was over. Medium
and fighter-bombers struck at airfields and lines of communication in
Sicily, Sardinia and southern Italy while the strategic bombers raided
ports, submarine bases and targets at Naples and Bari. Fighters from
Malta flew offensive sweeps by day and intruder missions by night
against Sicilian airfields; they escorted bombers and protected convoys;
they also paid particular attention to shipping running into Sicily and,
together with coastal aircraft, maintained an aerial blockade of the
island. Reconnaissance aircraft were busy taking photographs and by
the time of the invasion had covered the entire island. To all this activity must be added the contribution of Royal Air Force Bomber Command which, from its bases in the United Kingdom, sent aircraft to
make six attacks on targets in the north of Italy. Of particular strategic
importance were the train ferries which plied across the Messina Straits
and which could move 40,000 men or 7500 men and 750 vehicles in
twenty-four hours. By the beginning of June, it was reported that only
one of the five ferries was still running, and installations at the terminals
were so badly damaged that the enemy was compelled to resort to the
use of lighters and any other small craft he could find.
An essential part of the Allied plan for the preparatory period was
the capture of the islands of Pantellaria and Lampedusa in the Sicilian
Narrows. By virtue of their position the garrisons on these islands
could give advance warning of the movement of the assault convoys,
but once in Allied hands the airfield on Pantellaria would be a convenient base for fighter aircraft covering the more distant landing areas
and would serve to relieve some of the congestion on the overcrowded
airfields at Malta. The minor airfield and radar facilities at Lampedusa
would also be of considerable value.
Pantellaria, a barren place of thirty-one square miles, described as
the ‘Italian Heligoland’, had been strongly fortified since the late twenties and bristled with anti-aircraft guns, while Lampedusa, a smaller
island of fourteen square miles, also possessed formidable defences.
It was proposed to take Pantellaria by seaborne assault, but in the
event it was reduced by an air bombardment unprecedented in the
Mediterranean. From 9 May, the island was bombed by aircraft and
shelled by warships with increasing frequency and then, between 7
and 11 June, it was subjected to continuous day and night attack by
heavy, medium, light and fighter-bombers. Altogether some 5600
sorties were flown against the island and more than 6500 tons of bombs
were dropped. The determination of the garrison wilted under this
concentrated assault and the island capitulated shortly after infantry
landed on the morning of 12 June. As a result, over 11,000 Italian
troops and a number of German technicians were captured.
The onslaught, which Coningham described as a ‘test tube experiment on the effect of
intense and prolonged bombing’, had completely destroyed the town and harbour.
However, the numerous galleries and tunnels constructed under the rocky surface of
the island had provided a ready refuge and casualties among the inhabitants and members
of the garrison were light.
Lampedusa, which had already been bombed towards the end of
May, now felt the weight of a combined air and sea attack. On the
morning of 12 June, after a night of naval bombardment, bombers
dropped 268 tons of explosives while more shells poured in from the
sea. The same afternoon an air-sea rescue Swordfish, with its compass
out of order and almost without fuel, was forced to land on the island.
Its pilot, an RAF sergeant, accepted an offer of surrender from the
Italian commander, refuelled with enemy petrol and took off again for
Sousse. In the evening the captain of a British destroyer completed
the formalities. The smaller islands of Linosa and Lampione offered
no resistance and their surrender followed within a matter of hours.
By 1 July the first phase of air operations had been completed and
the North-west African Air Force thereupon concentrated its effort on
the invasion area in Sicily. The Luftwaffe, although it enjoyed the advantage of operating at short range and was under severe provocation
with the threat to its bases, did not offer the intense opposition that
had been expected. However, there was one notable exception on
5 July, when about a hundred enemy fighters attempted to intercept
a formation of American Fortress bombers. In the action which ensued
thirty-five enemy fighters were claimed destroyed for the loss of only
two bombers. Throughout all the weeks of preparation the Germans
struggled to keep their airfields in operation with but scant success.
By D-day seven of the Gerbini satellites were out of action, as were
the important airfields at Comiso, Castelvetrano and Bocco di Falco,
while the efficiency of many others was seriously impaired. Indeed,
the airfield situation in Sicily had become so desperate that the Luftwaffe
was almost paralysed and in no condition to offer serious resistance
to the landings.
In all these preparatory operations New Zealanders played their part.
As Royal Air Force formations were reinforced for the Sicilian venture,
there had been a corresponding influx of men from the Dominion, so
that by the beginning of July 1943 over 530 were serving in Mediterranean Air Command. More than two-thirds were aircrew, many of
them flying under their fellow countrymen, Coningham and Park;
others faithfully performed the less spectacular but essential duties of
servicing and repair which kept the aircraft in action. In addition a
small group held responsible staff appointments or did good work in
such posts as engineering, equipment, signal and medical officers.
With Headquarters, Mediterranean Air Command, Group Captain
H. D. McGregor and Wing Commander M. W. B. Knight, both
experts on fighter operations, were concerned in the planning of
Operation HUSKY. On the eve of the assault, McGregor was appointed
Deputy Chief of Air Staff, Mediterranean Air Command, and Knight
joined the operations staff of North-west African Air Forces. Both
men were subsequently to be closely associated with the planning and
execution of air operations in Italy. Wing Commander A. E. Arnott
as senior equipment officer, Headquarters North-west African Coastal
Air Force, was responsible for the allocation and distribution of equipment throughout the area covered by this force. He was to remain in
this post for over two years and during this time made an important
contribution to the planning and organisation of coastal operations for
the landings in Sicily, Corsica, Sardinia and Italy. The diversity of his
duties is illustrated by the fact that he was responsible for the supply
and replacement of aircraft, vehicles, armament, photographic equipment and clothing for a force of some 25,000 men.
New Zealanders were among the leaders of Spitfires based at Malta
during this period. Wing Commander C. F. Gray was in charge of
No. 322 Wing, the formation in which he had served as a squadron
commander in Tunisia. Squadron Leader H. A. Crafts continued in
command of No. 185 Squadron, now prominent in attacks on Sicilian
airfields. Squadron Leader E. D. Mackie, formerly a flight commander
of No. 243 Squadron, led this unit on offensive sweeps and as escort
to American daylight bombers. Flight Lieutenant D. F. Westenra commanded a flight of No. 601 Squadron and there were experienced
Spitfire pilots like Flying Officers Schrader,
Wing Commander W. E. Schrader, DFC and bar; born Wellington, 27 Mar 1921;
accounts clerk; joined RNZAF23 Mar 1941; commanded No. 486 (NZ) Sqdn and
No. 616 Sqdn 1945.
E. J. Shaw, Symons,
Flight Lieutenant G. W. Symons; born New Plymouth, 25 Jun 1920; farmhand; joined
RNZAF13 Apr 1941.
White,
Flight Lieutenant G. G. White, DFC; born Waipawa, 27 Feb 1920; sheep farmer;
joined RNZAF26 Jul 1941.
Pilot Officer Lissette
Flight Lieutenant A. F. Lissette; born Morrinsville, 6 Nov 1919; stock clerk; joined
RNZAF17 Aug 1941; prisoner of war, 26 Nov 1943.
and Flight Sergeants Buchanan,
Flight Lieutenant G. M. Buchanan; born Dannevirke, 7 Oct 1921; labourer; joined
RNZAFJul 1941.
Caldwell,
Flying Officer R. A. Caldwell; born Hamilton, 25 Oct 1920; bank clerk; joined RNZAFMay 1941.
De Tourret
Flying Officer R. H. De Tourret; born Auckland, 13 Nov 1920; laboratory assistant;
joined RNZAF13 Apr 1941; killed in accident, 6 Feb 1959.
and D. J. Towgood.
Flight Lieutenant E. L. Joyce continued as flight commander with
the famous No. 73 Hurricane Squadron. A few days after the invasion
began, he was appointed to command. Joyce had first joined No. 73
as a sergeant pilot in mid-1941 and had subsequently won distinction
for his part in low-level attacks and his prowess as a night-fighter in
defence of desert airfields. Flying with No. 23 Mosquito Squadron on
night intruder operations, Flight Lieutenant Rabone
Squadron Leader P. W. Rabone, DFC; born Salisbury, England, 2 Mar 1918; clerk;
joined RAF15 Mar 1939; transferred RNZAF16 Mar 1944; killed on air operations,
24 Jul 1944.
was prominent
in attacks on supply trains and railway stations in eastern Sicily and
southern Italy. In a varied career, Rabone had flown Battle bombers in
France, fought with a Hurricane squadron during the Battle of Britain
and, flying Hurricanes and then Defiants, had taken part in the defeat
of German night raiders in 1941. Subsequently he was one of the
original flight commanders of No. 488 (NZ) Squadron, then equipped
with Beaufighters.
New Zealand Spitfire pilots were frequently over Sicily during the
six weeks before the invasion. Several successful combats were reported. On 4 July Mackie led his squadron to cover Fortresses attacking Catania, and just as the bombers had left the target six Messerschmitt 109s appeared. A ‘free for all’ soon developed during which,
although his guns were not working properly, Mackie succeeded in
setting one Messerschmitt on fire. He was then chased by other enemy
aircraft but eluded them by diving out to sea. On the way back to
Malta his cannon began working perfectly and he seized the opportunity to attack a two-masted schooner which he sighted ten miles
south-east of Augusta. Although fired on by shore batteries he returned
unscathed. The following day, while escorting Fortresses to bomb
Gerbini airfield, the Spitfires were again in action and Mackie sent
another Me109 down to crash-land north of Palazzolo. This same day
Flight Sergeant De Tourret of No. 229 Squadron destroyed one Focke-
Wulf 190 and damaged another, but his own aircraft sustained such
severe damage that he was forced to crash-land on Hal Far. On another
occasion De Tourret damaged a Macchi 402.
Flying Officer White's No. 126 Squadron was kept busy on sweeps
over the airfields in eastern Sicily. Within the first five days of July,
White was to claim the destruction of two Messerschmitt 109s and a
Macchi 202, together with one Macchi 202 and Messerschmitt 109
damaged—an outstanding achievement at this time. His most exciting
combat occurred in the vicinity of Biscari airfield. Seeing several
Messerschmitt 109s take off, he dived to take up a position behind one
of them but was unable to overhaul the enemy machine. He then began
chasing his Messerschmitt through valleys and up over hills, firing
short bursts at every opportunity without any visible results. Just as
his cannon ammunition ran out the enemy began to slacken speed, and
rapidly overtaking his quarry, White got in several machine-gun bursts
from short range. Immediately the hood flew off and the German
machine began to climb steeply; the pilot baled out at the top of the
climb and his aircraft went straight down to explode in a sheet of smoke
and flame. White had earlier been prominent in attacks on enemy
shipping.
With the RAF coastal squadrons based in North Africa, New
Zealanders took part in convoy escort duties, sea reconnaissance,
shipping strikes and air-sea rescue searches. In one week alone seventeen separate convoys were given air protection. So effective were the
patrols flown by Allied aircraft that, in the four weeks ending on 16
June, not one ship sailing in convoy in the central Mediterranean was
lost or damaged by enemy air or submarine action. Pilot Officers
Hunter
Flight Lieutenant D. M. Hunter; born Streatham, England, 7 Nov 1921; farmer;
joined RNZAF18 Aug 1941; prisoner of war, 21 Jul 1943.
and Finn
Flying Officer J. O. Finn; born Te Rore, 2 Feb 1920; farmhand; joined RNZAF13 Apr
1941.
of No. 39 Squadron and Flying Officer Hunt
Flight Lieutenant S. M. Hunt; born Hastings, 11 Apr 1919; painter; joined RNZAFDec 1940; prisoner of war, 20 Jul 1943.
and
Flight Sergeant Kemp
Warrant Officer A. E. Kemp; born Barry, Wales, 16 Jan 1920; shop assistant; joined
RNZAFAug 1941; prisoner of war, 2 Aug 1943.
of No. 47 Squadron were among those who
flew on convoy patrol at this time. Later, as their obsolete Beauforts
were replaced by torpedo-carrying Beaufighters, they were to turn from
the defensive role to ‘search-and-attack’ missions. On 21 June Kemp
flew one of the squadron's first Beaufighter sorties. He sighted an
enemy cargo vessel and made a good attack, but during the run-in
his aircraft was hit by flak from an escorting destroyer; one propeller
was shot off and the oil lines burst, but Kemp flew his Beaufighter
safely back to base at Misurata.
Also active on shipping reconnaissance were Warrant Officer
McGregor,
Pilot Officer D. S. McGregor; born Dunedin, 28 Mar 1919; school teacher; joined
RNZAFMay 1940; killed on air operations, 9 May 1944.
Flight Sergeants R. G. Miles, N. D. Freeman and F. M.
Spedding, as pilots of No. 14 Marauder Squadron, and Flying Officer
Hoy,
Flying Officer W. J. Hoy; born Westport, 3 Sep 1916; clerk; joined RNZAFApr 1941;
killed on air operations, 5 Aug 1943.
pilot, Flight Sergeant Jorgensen,
Warrant Officer W. C. Jorgensen; born Auckland, 27 Sep 1919; timber machinist;
joined RNZAFNov 1940; killed on air operations, 5 Aug 1943.
wireless operator, and Flight
Sergeants Bowsher
Flight Sergeant W. H. J. Bowsher; born London, 5 Jun 1912; packer; joined RNZAFDec 1940; killed on air operations 5 Aug 1943.
and Russell,
Flying Officer L. A. C. Russell; born Auckland, 20 Jan 1917; transport driver; joined
RNZAF1 Sep 1940.
air gunners of No. 52 Baltimore
Squadron. Flying Officer Price
Squadron Leader C. W. Price; born Christchurch, 23 Jun 1912; factory manager; joined
RNZAF7 Sep 1941.
was prominent with torpedo-
Wellingtons of No. 458 Australian Squadron operating at night.
To protect shipping in Tunisian and Algerian ports from enemy air
attack, British and American fighter squadrons of the Coastal Force
flew more than four thousand sorties between 16 May and 30 June.
By night RAF Beaufighters were particularly successful, claiming the
destruction of twenty-six enemy machines. One of the squadrons—
No. 255—was commanded by Wing Commander J. H. Player, who had
led Beaufighters during the Tunisian campaign and organised intruder
missions over Sardinia with conspicuous success. Now, as the shipping
concentrations in North African ports increased, Player and his pilots
flew defensive patrols which were to add to their squadron's already
impressive list of victories. One night in June, when on patrol near
Bizerta, Player was vectored on to an unidentified aircraft. After a
ten-minute chase the machine was sighted and identified as a tri-engined
Cant Z1007. Player closed in and, after only a short burst with all guns,
he and his navigator had the satisfaction of seeing the starboard engine
explode. A second burst set the port engine ablaze and immediately the
Cant began to disintegrate. It then spun down, a flaming mass, to
continue burning on the sea. Player had taken over No. 255 Squadron
early in March; in the next few months, squadron pilots claimed fifteen
enemy aircraft destroyed, two probably destroyed and twelve damaged.
For his own part in operations and his fine leadership, Player was
admitted to the Distinguished Service Order.
Night by night New Zealand aircrew with RAF Wellington squadrons flew out from their Tunisian bases and crossed the Mediterranean
to play their part in attacks against Pantellaria and enemy ports, communications and airfields in Sardinia, Sicily and southern Italy. Three
oustanding pilots were Wing Commander D. R. Bagnall, who continued his successful command of No. 40 Squadron, Squadron Leader
H. H. Beale of No. 37 Squadron and Squadron Leader C. L. G. Holmes
of No. 150 Squadron, who flew as flight commanders. Captains of
aircraft who flew many missions were Flight Lieutenant E. P. Towsey,
a veteran of bomber operations over Germany who had also served
with Coastal Command, Flight Sergeants Pilet,
Flight Lieutenant W. H. Pilet, DFC; born Christchurch, 10 Jun 1914; dairy farmer;
joined RNZAF27 Jul 1941.
Turvey
Warrant Officer J. R. Turvey, DFM; born Oamaru, 9 Aug 1920; spinner; joined
RNZAF13 Apr 1939.
and R. E.
Stowers. Flying Officer Read
Flight Lieutenant F. J. Read, DFC; born Wellington, 9 Jan 1921; apprentice carpenter;
joined RNZAF20 Oct 1939.
rendered good service as gunner and
Flying Officer Masters
Flight Lieutenant C. H. Masters, DFC; born Onga Onga, Hawke's Bay, 15 Mar 1919;
sheep farmer; joined RNZAF18 Apr 1942; killed on air operations, 8 May 1944.
as bomb-aimer. Also operating at this time
were Flight Sergeants N. Gustofson and Judd
Flying Officer S. F. Judd; born Masterton, 30 Sep 1919; farmer; joined RNZAF18 Jan
1941.
as pilots, Warrant
Officer B. Johnston
Warrant Officer B. Johnston; born Invercargill, 10 Mar 1915; salesman; joined RNZAFApr 1940; died 1 Jan 1950.
and Flight Sergeant McKay
Warrant Officer W. O. C. McKay, DFC; born Wyndham, 12 Feb 1919; clerk; joined
Fleet Air ArmDec 1940; transferred RAF21 Jun 1941; RNZAF15 Oct 1943.
as navigators, and
Flight Sergeant McPhail,
Warrant Officer J.S.J. McPhail; born Gore, 28 May 1916; farm worker; joined RNZAF31 Aug 1941; prisoner of war, 19 Sep 1943.
wireless operator.
The fine offensive spirit displayed by the bomber crews is well
illustrated by the action of the young Wellington pilot, Flight Sergeant
Pilet, during one sortie to Milo airfield in Sardinia. On this night the
weather was atrocious but Pilet flew on to find and bomb his target.
On the way back to Tunisia, conditions became even worse but he
succeeded in landing at base while most squadron crews were compelled to find other airfields where the weather was better. Flying
Officer Read displayed ‘exceptional zeal and energy’ in the performance
of his duties as gunnery leader of No. 37 Squadron. On one occasion
he flew in a Wellington captained by Squadron Leader Beale detailed
to attack Gerbini airfield. On leaving the target the Wellington was
singled out for attack by a Ju88. Read first sighted the enemy aircraft
as it closed in from the port side, whereupon he raised the alarm and
gave Beale directions for evasive action. As a result the enemy machine
passed to the starboard quarter, its fire causing no damage to the
Wellington. Read withheld his own fire until the Junkers was at point-blank range. He then opened up and scored hits on the enemy bomber;
it rolled over on its back and fell away, apparently out of control.
* * * * *
On the afternoon of 9 July a great mass of ships and landing craft,
some two thousand in all, began to assemble in the area east and south
of Malta. And soon this vast armada, which carried the British Eighth
Army and the American Seventh, was moving steadily under strong
air and naval escort towards the south-east corner of Sicily. During
the evening the wind rose to gale force, and as the long lines of ships
ploughed their way through heavy seas, British glider-borne troops
and American paratroops, who were to land in advance of the seaborne
forces, took off in swirling sand and dust from their bases at Kairouan
in Tunisia. The gliders supporting the Eighth Army were routed
across the south-east corner of Malta, and as they approached those
anxiously watching from vantage points on the island saw ‘the tandem-wise pairs of tow and glider flying low, now in twos and threes, now
in larger groups, with the roar of their engines partly carried away by
the gale and their veiled navigation lights showing fitfully in the half
light of the moon.’ The first invasion of European soil was under way.
The aircraft and gliders battling through the high wind towards
Sicily carried 1200 men of 1 Air Landing Brigade of 1 British Airborne
Division. Most of the gliders were of the light Hadrian, or Waco,
type for which the maximum load was 14 men and a small cart; but
there were ten larger Horsas, capable of carrying 30 men or a jeep and
an anti-aircraft gun. To tow these gliders the Americans had provided
109 Dakotas and the Royal Air Force 7 Halifaxes and 21 Albemarles.
Towing the Horsa gliders from England to Sale airfield near Casablanca, and thence via Froha to Kairouan in Tunisia, had been a
hazardous operation. Flying by night with a glider in tow over such
great distances was considered too dangerous, so the slow and cumbersome combinations had flown by day, risking interception by German
fighters as they crossed the Bay of Biscay. Through the skill and
determination of aircraft and glider pilots 27 out of 30 Horsas had
reached North Africa by 7 July. There was little time for training.
British glider pilots were out of practice and found the Hadrian more
difficult to fly than their training gliders, while the Dakota pilots did
not have sufficient time to become accustomed to their tows. Furthermore, facilities in North Africa did not permit of suitable exercises to
simulate the conditions of actual operations. All concerned did their
best but the result was far from satisfactory.
The landing zone for the Air Landing Brigade was near Syracuse
and its objective, the Ponte Grande, an important bridge south of the
town. On the flight to Sicily things soon went wrong. In the high wind
many machines were blown off course, navigators were unable to
identify the first turning point at Malta and the timing of the operation
was upset. Although the weather improved slightly as the force approached the island, the release of gliders in uncertain light brought
many errors. Of the 137 gliders which set out, no fewer than 69 were
released too soon and fell into the sea; a further 56 were scattered over
a wide area along the south-eastern coast. Only twelve gliders, all
towed by RAF aircraft, reached the landing zone, one Horsa descending within 300 yards of the Ponte Grande. By dawn eight officers
and sixty-five other ranks were holding the bridge. Determined assaults
by the enemy during the morning and early afternoon were of no avail
until half past three, when the fifteen survivors of this gallant band
were overrun. Fortunately by that time advanced troops of the
Eighth Army were approaching and they were able to drive the enemy
off before they could destroy the bridge. Aggressive action by the remainder of the British airborne force caused widespread alarm and
confusion, particularly among the Italians. Meanwhile paratroops of the
United States82 Airborne Division had been dropped over an area of
fifty square miles around Gela and Licata. Here, again, a small proportion of the force succeeded in gaining the road junction and high ground
which was their objective, while the sudden appearance of the remainder in other localities further increased the fear and despondency in
the enemy ranks. But the margin between success and failure of the
airborne operations had been slight.
In contrast, all went well for the seaborne forces from the beginning.
The landings began at 4 a.m. and, covered by naval bombardment,
were everywhere successful. There was negligible opposition from the
Italians manning the coastal defences, beach-heads were quickly established and supplies and reinforcements poured in. Advanced troops
pushed inland and by nightfall the whole of the Pachino peninsula was
occupied, Syracuse had fallen and the Americans had captured Licata
and were moving on to Vittoria.
Throughout the daylight hours of 10 July, Allied fighters operating
from Malta, Gozo, Pantellaria and North Africa were on patrol over
the beaches and the mass of shipping lying off shore. Attempts at interference by the Luftwaffe were far less than had been anticipated. In the
first twenty-four hours only twelve ships were successfully attacked
from the air whereas the invasion plans had anticipated heavier losses.
As a result of the day's fighting over the beaches and their approaches,
13 enemy aircraft were claimed destroyed, with 14 more probably
destroyed or damaged; our losses were 11 Spitfires shot down and
missing.
The Luftwaffe was no more successful in its attempts to prevent
Allied bombers and fighter-bombers attacking inland targets. During
the day airfields, defensive positions and communications were attacked
almost at will. Of the enemy fighters which tried to intercept, seventeen
were shot down for the loss of only five Allied aircraft, which almost
certainly fell victim to the intense flak. Night protection of the beaches
was shared by RAF Beaufighters and Mosquitos based on Malta.
Beaufighters destroyed two Ju88s and one Cant Z1007 and probably
destroyed a Ju88 in the Augusta and Syracuse areas, while a Mosquito
probably destroyed a Ju88 south-east of Castelvetrano.
Within the next three days the Allied air offensive reduced the
Luftwaffe in Sicily to a state of impotence, and thereafter no effective
opposition was met in the skies over the island. Malta-based Spitfires
and American Warhawks scored heavily during their patrols over the
beaches and harbours. On 13 July, the last day on which the Luftwaffe
appeared in strength, they shot down twenty-four enemy machines
and probably destroyed three more for the loss of only one Spitfire.
Royal Air Force Beaufighters and Mosquitos, now guided by a Ground
Control Interception Station and a rapidly expanding warning system,
also took a nightly toll of enemy bombers. Operating in clear moonlight on 12 July, they had an exellent night's hunting, claiming the
destruction of nine German and two Italian aircraft without loss to
themselves. By day and night RAF and American bombers and fighter-bombers were busy attacking communications, airfields, troop concentrations and ground positions; they also bombed marshalling yards
and airfields in Italy. The trickle of supplies reaching the enemy forces
was further reduced by the successful shipping strikes of coastal aircraft; in all, ten vessels were sunk or damaged in the first week of the
invasion.
Meanwhile, with the aid of this air superiority, the land campaign
continued to prosper. On 12 July Ponte Olivo landing ground was
captured and elements of the Seventh and Eighth Armies made contact
in the Ragusa area. The advance westwards from Syracuse went on
and Augusta was occupied in the early hours of the 13th, with its port
installations almost intact. British and American engineers followed
close on the heels of the ground forces and quickly made captured
airfields serviceable again. By 13 July Pachino, which had been
ploughed up by the Germans, was ready for use and the first Spitfire
squadrons of Desert Air Force flew in from Malta and began operations. During the next three days, more RAF Spitfire squadrons were
installed on Comiso and United States Kittyhawk squadrons moved
in to Licata and Ponte Olivo. Thereafter the transfer to Sicily of
squadrons from Malta and North Africa continued at regular intervals
without any interruption in the all-out support accorded to the land
forces.
The airmen arriving in Sicily lived more or less as they had done
in the desert but the countryside, with its olive and fruit trees, was
very different. The ground was too rocky for digging slit trenches
so tents were pitched and surrounded by a blast wall of earth; aircraft
were dispersed among the almond groves. To those who had spent
years in the desert the abundance of water for drinking and washing
was a most pleasant change. Although the orange crop had largely
been gathered, there was the luxury of ample supplies of almonds,
grapes, melons, tomatoes and wine. The local population, who pro-
testedprotested their detachment from the politics of the Italian mainland, with
few exceptions made a great show of friendliness. But as the days
went by the weather became more sultry and then malaria and dysentery
took hold of many airmen. It is recorded that at one time no fewer
than a quarter of the officers at the headquarters of the Tactical Air
Force were suffering from either one or the other of these diseases.
To speed the Eighth Army's advance towards Catania and the
Gerbini airfields, another airborne operation was launched over Sicily
on the night of 13 July.
Previously on the night of 11 July troops of 82 US Airborne Division had been dropped
in front of forward units in the Gela area. Unfortunately, out of the 144 Dakotas
despatched, 23 failed to return. The unarmed transport aircraft encountered intense
flak and were attacked by enemy aircraft. In addition, many ran foul of anti-aircraft fire
from Allied naval vessels which, at this time, were being bombed by enemy aircraft.
Its objective was the bridge at Primo Sole
which carried the main Catania road over the River Simeto. The
operation was primarily a paratroop one. Three battalions of 1 British
Parachute Brigade were carried in 107 US Dakotas and 11 RAF Albemarles and were supported by anti-tank units and Royal Engineers in
seventeen gliders towed by Albemarles and Halifaxes. The force flew
from North Africa by way of Malta. As they approached their objective
many aircraft were off course and they were fired on by Allied naval
vessels which failed to identify them. Overland, intense enemy anti-aircraft fire further disorganised the force. Altogether 27 Dakotas lost
their way, 19 returned to base without dropping their passengers and
14 aircraft were shot down. In the event, less than half the aircraft
succeeded in dropping their parachutists or releasing their gliders so
that they landed on or near the selected area. When dawn came, some
200 paratroops and five anti-tank guns were installed on the bridge,
approximately one-fifth of the force which had set out from Kairouan.
Demolition charges were removed and thrown into the river and troops
resisted heavy German attacks until the evening, when they were
forced back. They then covered the bridge from high ground to the
south. Early on the 15th, infantry and tanks of the Eighth Army
arrived and the bridge was finally retaken the next morning. The airborne operations had proved costly, largely because of the inexperience
of the men and a shortage of suitable equipment; but they were of
considerable assistance to both armies, whose commanders reported
that the speed of the invasion and the initial advances had been materially increased. There was now general recognition of the importance
of airborne assault and the experience gained and lessons learnt in
Sicily were to be invaluable in subsequent operations in north-west
Europe.
Now that enemy air power in Sicily was broken, Allied aircraft flew
numerous missions without interference except from anti-aircraft guns.
On 15 July, Spitfires flew 171 sorties on offensive patrols over the
Catania and Gerbini areas; not one enemy machine was seen. Similar
reports were received from fighters escorting the bombers and fighter-bombers. The effort expended by fighters guarding the beaches dropped to 450 sorties on 14 July and three days later no beach patrols
were needed at all. The fighter-bomber attacks against Sicilian targets,
however, continued without respite and the strategic bombers began
to strike increasingly heavy blows against enemy rail communications,
supply bases and airfields in southern Italy to prevent the reinforcement of the island and any rebuilding of its air strength. Wellingtons
attacked Neapolitan airfields and the docks at Naples, where they
caused considerable destruction in the area west of the harbour. On
17 July, American daylight bombers made two very heavy attacks on
the marshalling yards, factories and the Royal Arsenal at Naples. Many
fires were started and after the second attack in the afternoon a huge
pall of smoke spread across the town. When night came the devastation was increased by the Wellingtons. It was reported that these and
similar raids did much to dislocate the enemy's supply system; they
also had their effect on Italian morale, already at a low ebb. Allied
bombers dropped 4,500,000 leaflets over Rome, Naples and other towns
in southern Italy, with a joint message from the British Prime Minister
and the American President urging the Italians to abandon the destructive and hopeless struggle.
With the invasion a week old the position on land began to crystallise. It became obvious that the Germans were abandoning the
western part of the island to concentrate their strength in the north-east to deny the Allies possession of the island's greatest prize—the
airfields of the Catanian plain—and to keep open the escape route
through Messina. While the United States Seventh Army advanced
freely to take Palermo on 22 July, the Eighth Army encountered fierce
resistance. Montgomery was forced to divert his forces from the east
coast and move inland to come up behind the enemy between Mount
Etna and the northern coast. The task of Coningham's Tactical Air
Force was now the isolation of Catania by repeated attacks on rail
targets and the ring of roads around the area, particularly the important
road junction of Randazzo.
Meanwhile, United States Fortresses and Liberators by day and
RAF Wellingtons by night made a series of attacks on Naples, Salerno
and Foggia to block the roads and railways on both sides of the
Apennines. But these raids were not enough to restrict the flow of
supplies and, after full consideration of the military, political and
religious implications involved, it was decided to bomb Rome. Accordingly, 270 American Fortresses and Liberator bombers attacked the
Lorenzo and Littorio marshalling yards on the morning of 19 July;
the same afternoon 320 Mitchells and Marauders, escorted by fighters,
bombed Ciampino, the city's largest airfield. The Lorenzo railway
yards, engine houses and locomotive sheds were devastated and there
was considerable damage to freight sheds, tracks and rolling stock;
industrial plants and public services were also hard hit. At Littorio
many hits were scored in the yards and sidings, including some fifty
direct hits on rolling stock and tracks, while the locomotive depot and
workshops were damaged. Ciampino airfield was the scene of widespread damage. Administrative buildings, hangars, barracks and
ammunition dumps suffered heavily and approximately forty Italian
aircraft were burnt out or damaged. These results were achieved at a
cost of only two bombers.
Before the attacks, crews were carefully briefed for definite military
targets to avoid destruction in the city unique for its religious and
historical associations, and its population was warned that air attack
was imminent. Inevitably, however, some bombs fell outside the target
areas, and among the buildings damaged was the ancient basilica of
Saint Lorenzo-without-the-Walls, with its twelfth century frescoes.
Although these raids were made exclusively by American aircraft, they
belonged to the combined Mediterranean Air Command. The British
Government accepted equal responsibility and stood firm against the
storm of controversy which broke out when it became known that
‘the Eternal City’ had been attacked. In addition to the material damage
to enemy communications and air strength, the raids were a further
blow to the sinking morale of the Italian people. Within a week
Mussolini was deposed and the Fascist regime he controlled for twenty
years was dissolved and replaced by a new government, with Marshal
Badoglio at its head.
Meanwhile the battle for Catania went on, and in the July heat the
Eighth Army advanced but slowly over what, after the desert, was
strange and difficult terrain. The German commanders, under General
Hube, had ruthlessly restored order among the panic-stricken Italians
retreating towards Messina and managed to keep open the vital reinforcement and supply routes to the front. In an attempt to increase the
flow of traffic to and from Sicily, Hube tried to make greater use of
the port of Milazzo, but was frustrated by the frequent medium, light
and fighter-bomber attacks during the last seven days of July. Among
other targets repeatedly attacked at this time were the marshalling
yards and rail bridge at Centuripe, the town which barred the way to
Adrano, ‘the key to the Etna positions.’ Nevertheless the German
divisions, deprived of a large proportion of their supplies, without air
support and themselves under pitiless air attack, continued to fight
stubbornly for they were determined to make an orderly and protracted
retreat to the Italian mainland.
Incapable of protecting its ground forces, the Luftwaffe did what it
could to help them by flying in reinforcements, fuel, ammunition and
equipment. But the enemy air transports did not escape the vigilance
of the Allied fighter pilots and there was a repetition of the slaughter
which had taken place in Tunisia. Then it had been largely the work of
American Warhawks but now it was the turn of RAF Spitfires. The
Junkers 52 supply trains were known to be landing on the beaches near
Milazzo and on a day towards the end of July thirty-three Spitfires of
No. 322 Wing took off from their airfield at Lentini on a sweep of this
area. Led by Wing Commander Colin Gray, the Spitfires flew northward, skimming low over the hills and descending to sea level as they
approached Milazzo. Near the port they came upon a ‘gaggle’ of
Ju52s circling to land on an improvised strip. Gray led his pilots into
attack before the escorting Messerschmitts realised what was happening and within a few minutes twelve transports were shot down.
Loaded with petrol, they exploded in spectacular fashion and many of
our Spitfires were hit by fragments. The German fighters diving in a
belated effort to intercept were met and routed by the British pilots.
The slaughter then continued until twenty-one transports had crashed
to burn on the sea or along the beaches, together with four of the
escort machines. Gray himself destroyed two Ju52s, while Flight
Sergeant Doherty
Flying Officer E. S. Doherty, DFM, DFC (US); born Gisborne, 29 Jul 1922; student;
joined RNZAFSep 1941.
was credited with the highest individual score of
three aircraft destroyed.
The decisive days of the Sicilian campaign came early in August.
On the 3rd of the month the Eighth Army took Centuripe, and Catania
fell two days later. Meanwhile the Seventh Army, with Palermo as its
supply base, had closed in along the north coastal road and the parallel
highway farther inland to Troina. This town fell to the Americans on
the 6th, and with the entry of Montgomery's troops into Adrano the
same evening, the north-east defence line was broken. With their divisions now in full retreat, the Germans began their evacuation across
the Messina Straits in real earnest. The end in Sicily was in sight.
During their retreat the Germans were under continual attack from
the air. Allied fighters and bombers caused such destruction on the
roads in north-east Sicily that the enemy was forced to abandon much
of his motor transport and resort to using mules taken from the local
peasants. Before the ‘last-ditch’ town of Randazzo finally fell on 13
August, it was subjected to heavy attacks by both light and fighter-bombers. Thereafter the air effort was concentrated against Messina,
the nearby evacuation beaches and the stream of small craft plying
across the narrow straits. And all the time the heavy bombers con-
tinuedcontinued their offensive against rail and road targets, airfields, ports and
the reception beaches in southern Italy. In contrast the Luftwaffe could
only operate spasmodically and on a small scale. However, its bombers
did score one success in the early hours of 1 August when twenty-five
Ju88s and Dornier 217s raided Palermo and caused considerable damage to the main dock, destroyed ration and petrol supplies, blew up
an ammunition train and sank a merchant ship.
After the fall of Randazzo, the Germans held but one road to Messina. This they grimly defended to enable the evacuation to continue
for as long as possible, but on 16 August Allied troops finally fought
their way into Messina and by the following day the entire island was
in our hands. The campaign had thus been completed in the short
space of thirty-eight days.
Before the end came, however, the Germans had succeeded in getting
a large number of men and a considerable mass of equipment back
across the Messina Straits to Italy. The Allied air forces seriously hampered this withdrawal but it was never disorganised. For one thing
the Messina Straits are less than three miles wide; they were heavily
defended by anti-aircraft guns, ‘probably the most concentrated anti-aircraft protection yet encountered’; and the Germans made good use
of the short hours of darkness to make the few minutes' journey across
the narrow strip of water. In the last ten days of the campaign 1170
sorties were flown, mainly by Kittyhawk and Warhawk fighter-bombers, against the ferries, barges and other craft making the crossing;
the effort was particularly heavy in the last three days when over half
the total number of sorties were flown. The fighter-bombers were
forced to fly high to avoid the intense barrage but they claimed many
successes. The enemy lost a good deal of equipment and approximately
194,000 men were left behind in Sicily, 32,000 of whom were either
killed or wounded and 162,000 taken prisoner, the majority being
Italians. These casualties were about five times the Allied losses on the
island.
The wreckage of more than a thousand German and Italian aircraft
that was found strewn over the island's airfields bore eloquent testimony to the part played by the Allied air forces. Their achievements
had indeed been notable. They had driven the Luftwaffe from Sicily
in the first ten days and by their assault on the bases in Italy had prevented it from making any serious intervention in the land fighting.
Altogether during the campaign they had destroyed or captured 1850
machines for the loss of fewer than 400 aircraft. The bomber raids on
communications and ports had upset the movement of supplies; the
coastal squadrons, along with the Navy, had protected the assault
shipping, assured the safe delivery of Allied reinforcements and equipment and at the same time reduced German and Italian seaborne rein-
forcementsreinforcements. In close support of the armies the British and American
fighter-bombers had done much good work, though their efforts did
not always meet with the success to which they had become accustomed
in North Africa. In the difficult Sicilian countryside, ground targets
were hard to locate and there were no means by which the troops on
the ground could summon quick assistance from the aircraft patrolling
overhead. The need for some system whereby air support could be
provided to forward troops in a matter of minutes was obvious and
the solution to this problem, which came within the next few months,
was to have far-reaching effects on the success of future air support.
Much that was new had been attempted during the Sicilian campaign
and many lessons of invasion were learned. In particular there had been
further development of that combined land-sea-air technique that was
to be the keynote of all future operations for the Second World War.
Meanwhile, the occupation of Sicily had cleared the way for landings
on the Italian mainland which were soon to follow.
* * * * *
The ubiquity of New Zealand airmen was well demonstrated during
the Sicilian campaign. Among the RAF formations of Mediterranean
Air Command there was now hardly a squadron without at least one
or two men from the Dominion on its strength. The majority of those
who had taken part in preparatory operations continued to serve
with their units, while newcomers included a sprinkling of veterans
from the United Kingdom and a number of men fresh from the
training bases. Whether in attack or defence or in such duties as
air transport or air-sea rescue, they acquitted themselves well during
the short campaign.
In the airborne assault on Sicily Flight Sergeants Fulker
Flying Officer L. Fulker, DFC; born Sydney, NSW, 31 May 1921; labourer; joined
RNZAFApr 1941; killed on air operations, 12 Sep 1944.
and
Bretherton
Flight Lieutenant B. J. F. Bretherton, DFC; born Cromwell, 27 Dec 1920; radio
mechanic; joined RNZAFDec 1939.
flew Halifaxes of No. 295 Squadron that towed Horsa
gliders; both men had previously made the long and difficult flight
with them from England to North Africa. Flight Lieutenant Jamieson
Squadron Leader R. W. Jamieson, DFC; born Nelson, 4 Nov 1917; joined RAF1937.
and Flight Sergeants Brydon
Flying Officer S. L. Brydon; born Maromaku, 12 Jan 1918; farmhand; joined RNZAFJan 1941.
and Nicholls
Flying Officer J. A. P. Nicholls, Air Medal (US); born Martinborough, 13 Mar 1920;
radio serviceman; joined RNZAF15 Jun 1941; killed in aircraft accident, 16 Apr 1945.
as pilots, Pilot Officer
Burton,
Flying Officer N. L. Burton; born Auckland, 19 Jan 1915; baker; joined RNZAF Jan
1941; killed on air operations, 2 Oct 1943.
navigator, and Pilot Officer Hall,
Flying Officer I. W. Hall; born Nelson, 18 Oct 1911; painter; joined RNZAFSep 1940;
killed on air operations, 2 Oct 1943.
wireless operator, all flew
with No. 296 Albemarle Squadron which towed Hadrian gliders in
the first stage of the invasion. In the operations against Primo Sole
bridge, Brydon captained one of four Albemarles which, owing to
unserviceability of Halifax aircraft, were called upon to tow Horsa
gliders. These large gliders were really too heavy for the light Albemarles and it was only after a most difficult flight, with engines overheating alarmingly, that Brydon released his glider and saw it land
about five miles south of the landing zone. He then found himself
without sufficient fuel for the return flight to North Africa and, with
the starboard wing damaged by flak, he had some anxious moments
before landing safely at Malta.
Fighter pilots did not get as many opportunities for combat over
Sicily as they had expected and after the fourth day of the invasion only
occasional encounters with the enemy were reported. For example, on
19 July a squadron diary records: ‘One more day without any sign of
enemy air activity. We carried out the usual patrol over the Catania
area where our ground forces were meeting stiff opposition and later
in the day gave top cover to three squadrons of Kittyhawks on armed
reconnaissance, north of Catania. It is truly amazing the way in which
the air battle has died down.’ A fortnight later the diarist was plaintively inquiring: ‘What has happened to the Luftwaffe?’ During the
early stages, however, there was considerable activity on the part of
the Luftwaffe and Squadron Leader E. D. Mackie, Flying Officer S. F.
Browne, Flight Sergeant Harrison
Squadron Leader N. D. Harrison, DFC; born Dunedin, 18 Jul 1922; farmer; joined
RNZAFMay 1941.
and Flying Officer G. G. White
were among those engaged in combat.
Squadron Leader Mackie, who led a Spitfire squadron on patrol
over the beaches and shipping, continued a remarkable run of success.
Within a matter of weeks he claimed five enemy aircraft destroyed, one
probably destroyed and two damaged. On one morning when his
squadron destroyed seven Ju87 dive-bombers, his own score was three.
Flying Officer Browne of No. 93 Squadron shot down two Ju88
bombers within forty-eight hours. On the second occasion his squadron
intercepted a force of these aircraft, escorted by Messerschmitts,
attacking ships waiting to off-load and after the action Browne was
himself forced down; he thus became one of the first pilots to land in
Sicily, although not quite in the manner he had expected. However,
he was soon back on operations and two days later he sent down a
Messerschmitt 109 near Augusta.
Flight Sergeant Harrison of No. 1435 Squadron also saw more than
his share of action. On patrol over the beaches on 11 July his squadron
encountered over twenty Messerschmitt 109s. Harrison singled out a
small formation near Augusta and in a hectic engagement destroyed
two of them; a third eluded him, but it limped away badly damaged.
A week later, while on patrol over the Catanian plain and northwards
along the coast, the squadron sighted a formation of four Me110 long-range fighters and Harrison was one of the pilots to intercept; enjoying
the lion's share of the engagement, he claimed one fighter probably
destroyed and two damaged. His own aircraft was badly damaged by
return fire but he flew back to base.
Flying Officer White was again prominent in the fighting which
came the way of his No. 126 Squadron. In one evening patrol, four
Macchi 202s were seen diving out of the sun to attack a group of
supply ships. The Spitfires turned in behind and quickly drove them
off. No sooner had the British pilots re-formed than they saw more than
twenty Messerschmitts 109s and Focke-Wulf 190s approaching to
make a similar attack. The Spitfires at once swept in to cut the enemy
raiders off from the shipping and then closed in to break up their
formation. For fifteen minutes there was a fierce and confused battle
in which White took on no fewer then eight different enemy machines
before running out of ammunition. Afterwards No. 126 Squadron was
credited with three aircraft destroyed or probably destroyed and six
damaged, White's score being one Macchi 202 probably destroyed
and two Messerschmitt 109s damaged. The next day when No. 126
Squadron intercepted enemy fighters attacking British motor transport
to the west of Syracuse, White destroyed one Messerschmitt 109 and
badly damaged another.
Other Spitfire pilots successful in combat were Flight Sergeant G. M.
Buchanan of No. 185 Squadron who, on the eve of the invasion, shot
down an FW190 and Flying Officer E. J. Shaw, No. 72 Squadron,
who destroyed a Macchi 202 three days later.
Among those who flew consistently to protect shipping and the
beach-head, on bomber escort and on offensive sweeps were Squadron
Leader Webb,
Group Captain R. Webb, DSO, DFC, m.i.d.; born London, 10 Mar 1912; bank clerk;
joined RNZAF17 Dec 1939; commanded No. 1435 Sqdn 1943–44; Wing Leader,
No. 323 Wing, 1944; killed in aircraft accident, 27 May 1953.
Flight Lieutenant C. R. Hesketh, Flight Sergeants
Austin,
Flying Officer R. L. Austin; born Christchurch, 1 Dec 1921; school teacher; joined
RNZAFSep 1941.
Meagher,
Flight Lieutenant G. H. Meagher; born Reefton, 15 Feb 1915; carrier; joined RNZAFNov 1941; prisoner of war, 6 Sep 1944.
Moore,
Flying Officer H. H. S. Moore, DFC; born Gisborne, 29 Oct 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF3 May 1941.
W. J. Robinson, Stewart,
Flight Lieutenant T. D. Stewart; born Palmerston North, 7 Jul 1917; sheep farmer;
joined RNZAF16 Aug 1941.
Swan
Flying Officer A. F. Swan; born Auckland, 28 Aug 1920; shop assistant; joined RNZAF10 Oct 1940.
and
G. R. Wilson.
Flying Officer G. R. Wilson; born Christchurch, 7 Jan 1919; clerk; joined RNZAF17 Aug 1941.
Webb, who had previously led a Spitfire flight in
defence of the Delta, now commanded No. 1435 Squadron; during the
Sicilian campaign he flew twenty-five sorties, mainly in support of
the ground forces.
New Zealand pilots were prominent with the fighter-bomber squadrons which did invaluable work in strafing and bombing German front-line positions, railways, roads and ports, and finally the evacuation
traffic across the Messina Straits. No. 239 Kittyhawk Wing—long the
most active fighter-bomber wing of the Desert Air Force—was now
led by Wing Commander R. E. Bary. After leading his squadrons in
free-lance attacks on communication targets from Malta, Bary set up
his Wing Headquarters at Pachino in Sicily on 17 July. Two days
later the wing flew its first operation from Sicilian soil when he led
an armed reconnaissance of the Paterno area. Among the pilots who
flew under Bary's leadership were Flight Lieutenant B. H. Thomas,
Flight Sergeants Batten,
Warrant Officer J. E. M. Batten; born Wellington, 20 Mar 1921; clerk; joined RNZAFMay 1941.
Cross,
Flying Officer O. P. Cross; born Birkenhead, Auckland, 10 Mar 1920; salesman; joined
RNZAF27 Jul 1941.
S. J. Fourneau, Gillard,
Pilot Officer T. A. Gillard, DFC; born Otahuhu, 31 May 1922; surveyor's cadet;
joined RNZAFMar 1941.
Hamilton,
Flight Sergeant C. G. Hamilton; born Christchurch, 10 Jul 1912; radio engineer; joined
RNZAFFeb 1941; killed on air operations, 15 Aug 1943.
Lory,
Flight Sergeant L. D. Lory; born Dannevirke, 7 Sep 1917; farmer; joined RNZAF15 Jun 1941; killed on air operations, 7 Aug 1943.
W. G. McConnochie, Nordstrand,
Warrant Officer G. S. Nordstrand; born Whangarei, 1 Apr 1919; labourer; joined
RNZAF14 Jan 1941.
Rogers,
Flying Officer A. J. C. Rogers; born Dunedin, 7 Jan 1920; engineering apprentice;
joined RNZAF17 Aug 1941.
Turner
Flight Sergeant J. G. G. Turner; born Otahuhu, 8 Mar 1923; ledger clerk; joined
RNZAF6 Jul 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Sep 1943.
and Twiname.
Warrant Officer R. H. Twiname; born Auckland, 25 Feb 1922; typewriter
mechanic; joined RNZAF27 Jul 1941.
During an armed reconnaissance of the Catania
area, No. 450 Australian Squadron's last operation from Malta
while en route for Sicily, Flight Sergeant Fourneau was forced to
‘ditch’ in the sea when his Kittyhawk developed engine trouble. After
spending two hours in the water he was fortunate to be picked up by
an air-sea rescue launch and taken to Malta. He went to Sicily the
next day by transport aircraft and reported to his squadron, none the
worse for his experience.
The Kittyhawk wing soon made its presence felt in Sicily. On one
occasion, after Bary had led his pilots against enemy positions south-west of Catania, the wing received signals from the Army reading:
‘Much gratitude. Fields in front our troops alight’ and ‘Commanders
signal Thanks very much. Twice a great success.’ Top fighter cover
for the operation had been provided by Spitfires of No. 243 Squadron
led by Squadron Leader Mackie.
From the second week of August No. 239 Wing made an all-out
effort against the Messina Straits. During one attack by twelve Kittyhawks of No. 450 Squadron, the section of four aircraft in which
Flight Sergeant Gillard and Flight Sergeant McConnochie flew scored
hits on a Siebel ferry and several near misses on a string of barges;
then on the way back to base they sighted and strafed enemy road
transport. As the evacuation reached its peak, No. 239 alternated between raids on shipping in the straits and on motor transport steadily
converging on the Messina beaches. In one raid, led by Bary, the Kittyhawks destroyed a complete convoy of twelve trucks running into
Messina. In another mission a large barge and a launch that were
singled out for attack disappeared under a cloud of spray. The hazard
ous nature of these fighter-bomber attacks is illustrated by the fact
that, of the seven New Zealanders who served with No. 260 Squadron
during 1943, up to this time five had been killed, and only Flight
Lieutenant Thomas and Flight Sergeant Twiname survived by the end
of the fighting in Sicily.
Among the New Zealanders who flew light bombers was Wing
Commander L. J. Joel, in command of No. 55 Baltimore Squadron.
Now on his third tour of operations, Joel displayed ‘outstanding qualities of leadership and determination’ during the Sicilian campaign. In
the first phase of the Sicilian invasion his squadron flew a novel type
of operation for light bombers. Flying singly by night, the Baltimores
ranged over western Sicily on armed reconnaissance of ports, railways
and roads. Then in the third week of July the squadron moved by
air to Malta, where it reverted to the daylight role with attacks on
enemy strongpoints, on gun positions, the harbour at Milazzo and the
towns of Paterno, Centuripe and Randazzo. Finally Joel took his
squadron to Sicily, where during the peak period of the German
evacuation the Baltimores attacked the embarkation points.
With No. 236 Boston Wing on night operations, Squadron Leader
N. Dumont, who won commendation for his work in Tunisia, now
commanded a flight of No. 18 Squadron. Other experienced New Zealand airmen with this unit were Flying Officer Edwards,
Flight Lieutenant E. F. Edwards; born Bromsgrove, England, 11 Sep 1917; school
teacher; joined RNZAFApr 1941.
pilot, Warrant
Officer Petrie,
Flying Officer M. W. F. Petrie; born Ashburton, 12 Jan 1920; baker; joined RNZAF1 Sep 1940.
wireless operator, and Flight Sergeant H. S. McCullum,
navigator.
In night intruder operations against enemy supply lines and airfields
in southern Italy, Squadron Leader P. W. Rabone, now a flight commander of his No. 23 Squadron, continued to display noteworthy
enterprise and leadership. During one sortie to the Rome area, he
successfully attacked a road convoy and then went on to strafe and
damage three Cant 506 float planes at their moorings on Lake Bracciano. In mid-August Rabone borrowed a Spitfire to fly spare parts
from Malta to a squadron detachment at Palermo. On the return flight
he met and destroyed a Junkers 88 over Trapani airfield. It is recorded
that ‘this action was considered a breach of good manners in robbing
the Spitfire pilots of their lawful prey but it was not taken amiss.’ Three
weeks later while operating from Sicily, Rabone led an intruder raid
on Grosseto airfield and succeeded in destroying a Junkers 88, a
Heinkel 111 and damaging a second Heinkel.
New Zealand airmen also rendered excellent service with the coastal
squadrons that were constantly on patrol to protect Allied convoys
and to search for and attack enemy naval units and merchant vessels.
During the North African campaign Wellington and Beaufort torpedo-bombers had borne the brunt of the assault against the enemy sea lanes,
but now daylight strikes by the fast and manoeuvreable Beaufighters
proved a most effective counter to the stream of supply vessels which
hugged the coasts of southern Italy, Corsica and Sardinia, before
running across to Sicilian ports. Flying Officer S. M. Hunt and Flight
Sergeant A. E. Kemp of No. 47 Squadron and Pilot Officer D. M.
Hunter of No. 39 Squadron distinguished themselves in a series of
gallant and determined attacks off the Corsican coast before they were
eventually shot down and taken prisoner. With No. 52 Squadron
which carried out many of the reconnaissance flights for these strikes,
Flying Officer W. J. Hoy, Warrant Officer W. C. Jorgensen and Flight
Sergeant W. H. J. Bowsher continued to do good work until early in
August, when their Baltimore failed to return from a reconnaissance
of the Naples area. No. 14 Marauder Squadron also flew reconnaissance
sorties, Warrant Officer D. S. McGregor, Flight Sergeants N. D.
Freeman and F. M. Spedding making many sightings. On one occasion
Freeman was sent out to search for a dinghy. He was jumped by two
Messerschmitt 109s and a Regione 2000 which came at him out of the
sun. Although thus heavily assailed, he shot down one Messerschmitt
109 and the other two aircraft were damaged and driven off.
From Malta a group of ten New Zealanders flew with No. 221
Wellington Squadron on shipping searches and anti-submarine patrols.
An unusual and interesting sortie fell to Flying Officer Lewis
Flight Lieutenant W. Lewis, DFC; born Wellington, 25 Feb 1922; salesman; joined
RNZAF25 May 1941.
and his
crew, which included four other New Zealanders. One night in mid-
July while off the Sicilian coast, a large Italian submarine, the Romolo,
was sighted on the surface. Lewis flew in to attack along the moon
path and dropped five depth-charges. The first four overshot slightly
but the last exploded under the hull of the submarine, and as the air-
craftaircraft flew on, the rear-gunner scored strikes on the base of the conning
tower. The Romolo remained surfaced, and as the Wellington went in
again to drop sea markers its aft gun opened fire. Lewis then made
landfall to verify the position and on returning to the scene of the attack
found the submarine circling as if out of control, with fumes and smoke
pouring from the conning tower. Lewis then left for base and the
crippled submarine began to make slow headway, but some five hours
later it was found and attacked by another Wellington of No. 221
Squadron. After remaining stationary for half an hour and losing
large quantities of oil, the submarine managed to get under way once
again and steer an erratic course towards the Italian coast. Within the
next forty-eight hours, Baltimores twice sighted the Romolo making
slow progress at periscope depth, but she never reached harbour and
there were no survivors.
On convoy escort duties with No. 253 Hurricane Squadron, which
was the first British squadron to be based on Lampedusa, there were
nine New Zealand pilots. From its island base the squadron was
responsible for protecting all convoys within a fifty-mile radius.
Although pilots were not to see action during their stay on the former
Italian stronghold, they were constantly out on patrol and had the
satisfaction of ensuring the safety of many convoys which passed
through their sector. For instance, on the eve of the invasion the
Hurricanes covered a huge convoy which stretched for over forty
miles. This lack of action was in direct contrast to the pilots' experiences
in North Africa, where they had been engaged on similar duties. They
scored many successes. New Zealanders who did well in combat at this
time were Pilot Officer Prentice,
Flight Lieutenant J. S. Prentice; born Dunedin, 6 May 1920; law clerk; joined RNZAF25 May 1941; prisoner of war, 15 Aug 1944.
Flight Sergeants Shorthouse,
Flying Officer R. C. Shorthouse; born Portsmouth, England, 9 Aug 1922; clerk; joined
RNZAF4 May 1941.
Jackson
Flight Lieutenant D. Jackson; born Christchurch, 28 Nov 1919; farm labourer; joined
RNZAFJul 1941.
and Cammock,
Flying Officer R. J. Cammock, DFC; born Christchurch, 4 Jul 1923; clerk; joined
RNZAF17 Aug 1941; killed on air operations, 6 Oct 1944.
who later was to be one of No. 486 Tempest
Squadron's top-scoring pilots against the flying bomb, and Flight
Sergeant C. P. Ashworth—brother of the veteran bomber pilot and
pathfinder pioneer, Squadron Leader A. Ashworth. On one occasion
Jackson and Cammock were among five squadron pilots who destroyed
four Italian torpedo-bombers which they found about to attack a
convoy. Shorthouse shared in the destruction of two Junkers 88 and
Ashworth's score was three enemy aircraft destroyed.
The large group of New Zealand pilots, navigators, bomb-aimers,
wireless operators and air gunners with the Royal Air Force Wellington,
Halifax and Liberator squadrons of the Strategic Air Force played a
full part in the attacks on communications, ports and airfields and, as
the campaign drew to an end, in the bombing of embarkation points
in Sicily and reception areas in the toe of Italy. The RAF effort was
continuous and intense and, together with the American daylight
operations, maintained a ‘round-the-clock’ assault. In attacks on what
were usually heavily defended targets, casualties, particularly from
flak, were inevitable. Warrant Officer Shepherd,
Warrant Officer H. S. Shepherd; born Onehunga, 7 Oct 1914; cabinet maker; joined
RNZAF2 Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 12 Aug 1943.
pilot, Flying Officer
W. G. Smith,
Flying Officer W. G. Smith; born Matakohe, 3 Aug 1907; sheep farmer; joined
RNZAF30 Nov 1941; killed on air operations, 5 Aug 1943.
navigator, and Flight Sergeant Wilkie,
Flight Sergeant G. H. B. Wilkie; born Marton, 14 Nov 1920; grocer; joined RNZAF30 Nov 1941; killed on air operations, 5 Aug 1943.
air gunner, are
representative of the men from the Dominion who lost their lives in
bomber operations during this period.
Wing Commander J. J. McKay continued in command of No. 178
Liberator Squadron, which in spite of a shortage of aircraft and crews
he had now built into an extremely efficient unit. New Zealanders
operating with this squadron included Flight Sergeant Cooke,
Flight Sergeant R. W. Cooke; born Manaia, 1 Mar 1923; clerical cadet; joined RNZAFMay 1941; killed on air operations, 4 Sep 1943.
as
pilot, Flight Sergeant Orr,
Flying Officer A. I. Orr; born Oamaru, 20 Jun 1920; warehouseman; joined RNZAF6 Jul 1941.
navigator, and Flight Sergeant Kainamu,
Flight Sergeant L. H. Kainamu; born Mohaka, Hawke's Bay, 28 Jul 1919; clerk;
joined RNZAF24 May 1941; killed on air operations, 4 Sep 1943.
air gunner, while Squadron Leader C. R. Heazlewood was the squadron's engineer officer. With No. 462 Australian Squadron, Squadron
Leader W. R. Kofoed, Pilot Officer G. S. Halley and Flight Sergeant
Browne
Flying Officer D. R. Browne, DFM; born New Lynn, 1 Dec 1919; medical student;
joined RNZAFNov 1941.
flew as captains of Halifax aircraft. Kofoed was now approaching the end of a long period of duty as flight commander with this
squadron and in recognition of his services he was shortly to be
awarded the Distinguished Service Order. On one mission to Palermo
a photo-flash exploded in his aircraft. The fuselage was badly buckled
but Kofoed managed to fly the crippled Halifax back to basc.
Most of the airmen mentioned earlier in this chapter continued operating with their Wellington squadrons, notably Wing Commander D. R.
Bagnall, who continued to lead No. 40 Squadron, and Squadron Leader
H. H. Beale as flight commander of No. 37 Squadron. Both were to
receive further distinction for their inspiring leadership: in November
1943, Bagnall was admitted to the Distinguished Service Order; two
months later Beale received a bar to his Distinguished Flying Cross.
Other aircrew with Wellingtons to gain commendation for their work
were Pilot Officer B. Cullinane, Flying Officer Rogers
Flight Lieutenant K. B. Rogers, DFC; born Auckland, 11 Oct 1922; bank clerk; joined
RNZAF28 Sep 1941.
and Flight
Sergeant Rutherford
Flight Lieutenant S. Rutherford, DFM; born Balclutha, 31 Mar 1922; farmer; joined
RNZAF9 Nov 1941.
as captains and Flight Sergeant Bailes
Flying Officer J. F. Bailes, DFM; born Auckland, 25 Mar 1915; lorry driver; joined
RNZAFApr 1941.
as air
gunner. During night operations to cover the landings in Sicily, Cullinane captained one of two Wellingtons from No. 70 Squadron which
were specially selected to attack the seaplane base at Syracuse. While
other squadron aircraft bombed the harbour and provided illumination, Cullinane flew in at low level and, along with the accompanying
Wellington, scored direct hits. It is recorded that the elimination of
the seaplane base ‘contributed materially to the success of the combined
operation.’ Rogers, a deputy flight commander of No. 150 Squadron,
was particularly prominent in low-level attacks against the Messina
beaches. Other pilots with a fine record were Flight Lieutenant R. J.
Taaffe, now on his second tour, Flying Officer Howell,
Flight Lieutenant L. R. W. Howell; born Napier, 21 Sep 1919; motor engineer; joined
RNZAFOct 1939.
Flight Sergeants Jeffares
Pilot Officer B. C. Jeffares; born Stratford, 27 Oct 1922; clerk; joined RNZAF Nov
1941; killed on air operations, 21 Oct 1944.
and Alexander,
Flying Officer G. McF. Alexander; born Christchurch, 16 Oct 1921; warehouseman;
joined RNZAFNov 1941.
while Flying Officers Godby
Flying Officer I. M. Godby; born Christchurch, 19 Mar 1913; solicitor; joined RNZAFSep 1941; killed on air operations, 24 Oct 1943.
and
Barney
Squadron Leader W. D. Barney; born Timaru, 15 Jul 1920; school teacher; joined
RNZAFDec 1941.
and Flight Sergeant Hedges
Warrant Officer E. A. W. Hedges; born Wellington, 17 Jun 1916; storeman; joined
RNZAFSep 1941.
also did good work as navigators.
CHAPTER 8Italy
THE Sicilian campaign had brought Italy to the verge of collapse.
Mussolini was now deposed and Marshal Badoglio had formed a
government with the object of seeking peace. But Italian hopes of
negotiating a surrender independently of the Germans were slender
because Mussolini had permitted, or had been forced to accept, the
infiltration of many Germans, all of whom were ready to pounce at
the first sign of defection and take over the country.
In spite of German watchfulness, however, the Italian Government
did succeed in making contact with the Allies, whereupon, as General
Eisenhower records, there began a series of negotiations, secret communications, clandestine journeys by secret agents and frequent meetings in hidden places that, if encountered in the fictional world, would
have been scorned as incredible melodrama. Plots of various kinds
were hatched, only to be abandoned because of changing circumstances.
For instance, there was a plan to land a large airborne force in the
vicinity of Rome but, at the last moment, the movement of German
reserves forced cancellation of the project. Negotiations dragged on
throughout August. They were very intricate since they involved the
still strong Italian Fleet, the remnants of Italian air forces and the
Italian troops throughout the peninsula and in the Balkans. Marshal
Badoglio was also much concerned about the difficulty of making a
surrender effective, unless sufficient Allied forces could arrive to support his Government. It was finally agreed to announce an armistice
on the eve of the Allied invasion, but by that time the Germans had
discovered what was happening; they closed in on Rome and quickly
overawed and disarmed the Italian divisions throughout the country.
Badoglio and the King had to flee from Rome but the Allies did gain
possession of the Italian Fleet; it sailed from its bases at Genoa, Spezia,
and Taranto to surrender at Malta.
It was thus in an atmosphere of considerable uncertainty that
General Eisenhower laid his plans for invading the Italian mainland.
He had to take special account of the German dispositions; for at the
time they had sixteen divisions in Italy—eight in the north under
Rommel, two near Rome and six farther south under Kesselring—and
these powerful forces might well be reinforced from Germany. The
British and Americans on the other hand had command of the air and
of the sea, which might enable them to avoid a long and difficult
campaign in southern Italy. In the circumstances, Eisenhower decided
to begin the assault with an attack across the Messina Straits by Montgomery's Eighth Army. This would be quickly followed by the landing
of British and American units of the Fifth Army under Lieutenant-
General Mark Clark in the Gulf of Salerno—the farthest point up the
west coast of Italy which could be covered by our fighters now based
in Sicily. It was hoped to gain the ports of Naples and Taranto quickly
since their combined facilities would be needed to supply the forces it
was intended to use. The early capture of airfields was also a prime
aim, especially the important group at Foggia,
Two miles outside the town lay the large Gino Lisa airfield and on the surrounding plain
the Germans had laid out an extensive satellite system of twelve more landing grounds
with runways of from 200 to 1700 yards. These could handle hundreds of aircraft, and
through them Allied Tactical Air Forces would be able to reinforce the Italian front on
a large scale before handing the bases over to the strategic bombers.
from which our heavy
bombers would be able to attack targets in eastern Germany and in
Rumania.
As soon as the Sicilian campaign ended the Allied forces began
preparations for carrying out this plan. Units of the Eighth Army
concentrated in the east of Sicily and those of the Fifth Army in the
west, while other forces assembled in the North African ports. Simultaneously the air assault on the Italian mainland was intensified.
Here the main targets were railways and airfields, the intention being
to isolate the Germans in southern Italy and to drive what remained
of the Luftwaffe from its landing grounds. During the last fortnight of
August, 736 heavy bomber, 1696 medium, 88 light and 1009 fighter-bomber sorties were flown with this object. Most effective attacks on
the Foggia marshalling yards were delivered on 19 and 25 August;
they undid all the work of repair which had been laboriously completed
after the heavy raids of the previous month. The weight of the air
attacks increased during the last week of August when the marshalling
yards at Salerno, Bagnoli, Taranto, Aversa, Battipaglia and the airfields at Foggia, Capua and Grazzanise were all heavily bombed.
Altogether some 3000 tons of explosives fell on railway targets as far
north as Pisa.
Royal Air Force Wellington bombers played a prominent part and
it was during their operations that an act of cool and deliberate courage
was performed by Flight Sergeant Simpson,
Flying Officer R. M. F. Simpson, BEM; born Redcliffe, 8 Jan 1917; fire insurance
inspector; joined RNZAF27 Jul 1941.
who captained a Wellington of No. 104 Squadron. Simpson was just taking off to bomb Viterbo
airfield when a tyre burst. His aircraft, which was carrying a full load
of petrol and bombs—some fitted with a particularly fragile type of
fuse—at once swung violently off the runway, turned a complete circle
and, on grinding to rest, caught fire. The crew managed to scramble
from the blazing machine and had just got clear when Simpson noticed
another Wellington bomber parked about 150 yards away. He immediately ran across and began to prime its engines in order to taxi it away
to a safe distance. As he stood thus exposed beneath the engine cowling,
his own Wellington suddenly exploded, scattering splinters and fragments in all directions. Simpson, however, persisted and while the burning Wellington nearby continued to erupt exploding ammunition and
pyrotechnics, he succeeded in taxi-ing the second aircraft away undamaged. His action was recognised by the award of the British Empire
Medal.
The fighter squadrons, among them No. 322 Wing led by Wing
Commander Colin Gray, continued to fly offensive sweeps and to
escort light bombers to their targets. For the most part they met little
opposition from the Luftwaffe, but there were occasional air fights. On
one day towards the end of August Spitfires of No. 81 Squadron were
escorting Bostons to bomb a railway junction in south-west Italy when
Messerschmitts attacked. Flight Sergeant W. J. Robinson went after
one of them and kept up a stream of fire which ripped off large pieces;
the German pilot baled out and his aircraft broke in half as it spiralled
into the sea. Simultaneously Pilot Officer A. M. Peart engaged and shot
down another Messerschmitt. Then Robinson saw one of the German
fighters dive to sea level and turn inland. He set off in pursuit, firing
bursts every now and then as the two fighters twisted and weaved their
way inland among the hills; then suddenly, as hits began to register,
the Messerschmitt pilot tried to turn steeply in a narrow valley; one
wing tip touched the side of a hill and a second later the German
fighter crashed in a cloud of smoke and flame.
Another New Zealander who saw action at this time was Flight
Sergeant Simms;
Pilot Officer D. E. Simms; born West Melton, 8 May 1913; labourer; joined RNZAF27 Oct 1940; killed on air operations, 28 Dec 1943.
he was radio observer in a Beaufighter which shot
down a Dornier 217 bomber over the straits. This was one of the few
successes scored by the night-fighter pilots who maintained regular
patrols over the assemblage of British troops and landing craft at
Messina.
* * * * *
The invasion of Italy began in the early hours of 3 September 1943,
when the clamour of 900 guns firing across the Straits of Messina
announced the advent of the Eighth Army. Before dawn its advanced
guard had landed on the Calabrian shore without opposition at Reggio,
Gallico and Catona. Royal Air Force fighters and fighter-bombers
covered its progress but on that day and on those which immediately
followed our pilots met little opposition; the Luftwaffehad, in fact,
already been driven from all the airfields in the neighbourhood. The
Eighth Army at once began to move steadily northwards, delayed only
by demolitions and slight rearguard actions. For the Germans, realising
their inability to hold the toe of Italy, had begun to withdraw their
troops from that area and their retreat was now hastened by our fighters
and light bombers.
At Salerno, where the landings began at dawn on 9 September,
events took a very different course. Here the region to be assaulted
was very strong, since the narrow coastal plain which borders the
Gulf of Salerno is dominated by the hills and mountains which surround it on all sides but one. Moreover, strong and determined forces
were available to dispute our landings. For Kesselring, despite the confusion caused by the Italian armistice, was determined to defend Rome
and he had reacted to the threat of invasion in this area with speed
and resolution; German troops had already taken over the coastal
defences, and as the approach of the Allied armada became known,
reinforcements began moving towards Salerno.
During the previous week the Allied air forces had done their utmost
to make things as difficult as possible for the enemy. As well as attacking enemy-occupied airfields, they had bombed roads and railways
leading to what was to be the battlefield—to the north at Aversa,
Villa Literno, Grosseto, Cancello and Salerno itself; to the east of
Battipaglia and Potenza, and to the south at Cosenza, Lauria and Sapri.
At first these attacks met with some opposition from the Luftwaffe, as
many as fifty fighters at a time seeking to intercept the daylight raids,
but by the first week of September the enemy effort had lessened considerably; the bombing of his fighter fields had had its effect. Meanwhile our Tactical and Coastal squadrons, operating from bases in
North Africa, Malta and Sicily, were covering the approach of the
assault forces. The Coastal squadrons, had already, since the beginning
of July, protected some 140 convoys, of which those moving to Salerno
were the latest; and on patrol pilots and crews had sighted and attacked
twenty-one enemy submarines.
From the moment the first troops set foot ashore at Salerno, British
and American fighters, including some from aircraft carriers, were on
patrol overhead. The Lightnings, Mustangs and Spitfires, which came
from airfields in Sicily, had to fly between 175 to 220 miles to the
scene of action. They were enabled to do so by the use of long-range
petrol tanks which could be jettisoned when empty; but even with this
addition to their petrol supply, the RAF Spitfires could spend barely
half an hour above the beaches, so that squadrons had to succeed each
other throughout the day. Yet despite this great disadvantage our
fighter pilots did, for the most part, keep the Messerschmitts and Focke-Wulfs away from the landing areas. German bombers, however, managed to score a number of successes against our shipping off the coast,
the most notable being the severe damage inflicted on HMS Warspite
by two radio-controlled glider bombs.
These novel and ingenious weapons were of two kinds—one was a modified type of
armour-piercing bomb with stabilising fins forward and a box tail aft, while the other,
the better known Hs293, was a jet-propelled missile, in the shape and form of a miniature
monoplane. Both weapons were launched from Dornier 217s which carried them beneath
their wings.
She was forced to withdraw
from the scene and remained out of action for six months. Meanwhile
our own light and fighter-bombers were active against enemy strongpoints by day while Beaufighters continued with patrols and attacks
each night. And all the time our heavy and medium bombers continued to strike at roads, railway junctions and bridges in the area of
Naples and in the neighbourhood of the Volturno River in order to
restrict enemy movement towards the battle area. The most successful
of these operations was that directed against the two bridges at Capua
which were almost completely destroyed.
Thus supported by their comrades in the air, our ground forces
quickly won a foothold at Salerno despite sharp opposition; and during
the first few days they made good progress towards establishing a
substantial bridgehead. But on the fourth day the Germans launched a
fierce counter-attack, during which the numerically inferior Allied divisions came under heavy fire from well-sited long-range guns; within
the next forty-eight hours the whole situation deteriorated seriously,
the Germans driving forward at one point on the American front to
within sight of the beaches. ‘The outlook began to be somewhat
gloomy,’ writes General Eisenhower, ‘for it now seemed probable that
the invasion forces might be divided and overwhelmed.’ But at this
critical moment Air Chief Marshal Tedder concentrated the full available strength of the Allied air forces, including both the medium and
heavy bombers, against the oncoming enemy. In the next twenty-four
hours, with nearly every crew flying double sorties, more than 1400
tons of bombs fell on German positions in the battle area and on
targets in its immediate neighbourhood. Fighters and fighter-bombers
swept over the whole region from dawn to dusk, attacking enemy
columns and transport upon the roads. These efforts continued unabated throughout the next two days and on the 14th, which witnessed
the crisis of the battle, our fighters and fighter-bombers flew a total
of over 700 sorties.
The whole air assault was delivered with precision and effectiveness.
So badly did it disrupt the enemy's communications, supplies and
mobility that, with the aid of naval gunfire, our ground troops regained
the initiative and thereafter, although there was further hard fighting,
German counter-attacks were never in sufficient strength to threaten
our general position. One military writer has since declared that ‘it is
not too much to say that air power saved the Fifth Army.’
Major-General J. F. C. Fuller in The Second World War—A Strategical and Tactical
History, p. 269.
Certainly
the Allied invasion was saved from disaster only by a narrow margin.
But by 15 September the crisis was over and the enemy had begun
to withdraw northwards. Our bridgehead at Salerno was secure.
The fierce fighting at Salerno had drawn off enemy forces in front of
Montgomery's Eighth Army, enabling it to advance more rapidly from
the south; and on 16 September its forward units made contact with
General Clark's Fifth Army to the south of Salerno Bay. Meanwhile
1 British Airborne Division, which had been landed from warships at
Taranto, had moved forward to link up with Montgomery's right.
Pressing on, the Eighth Army captured the Foggia airfields on 27
September and four days later Allied forces moving forward from
Salerno entered the port of Naples. And with this consolidation of our
position in southern Italy the Germans quickly evacuated the islands
of Sardinia and Corsica, both of which were in our hands by the
beginning of October.
In support of these various movements the Allied air forces continued to operate in strength. Fighters maintained regular patrols over
Salerno and made offensive sweeps ahead of our troops, while fighter-bombers kept up their attacks on enemy strongpoints and lines of
communication in or near the battle areas. Medium and heavy bombers
ranged farther afield, attacking road junctions, bridges, railways and
air bases, especially those to the north and east of Naples. Towards the
end of September, photo-reconnaissance showed that Formia, Caserta
and Benevento had been badly hit; road bridges were seen to be down
at Lagonegro, Avellino, and to the north of Capua, while railway
bridges were impassable at Formia and Pescara; other bridges were
seen to be blocked by craters at their approaches. A good deal of
damage was also observed at enemy airfields in the Rome and Viterbo
regions.
And while patrol and attack thus continued the Allied squadrons
were steadily moving forward into Italy from Malta, Sicily and North
Africa. First came Coningham's Tactical Air Force with its fighters and
fighter-bombers and then the light bombers; squadrons moved on to
captured airfields as soon as they were serviceable or else, as at Salerno,
operated from newly constructed landing strips so that contact could
be maintained with the retreating enemy. Transport squadrons helped
by making ‘lifts’ of ground staffs and equipment. Before the end of
September, two RAF Spitfire wings were operating along with American units on the Fifth Army sector while a Baltimore light-bomber
wing, a Kittyhawk fighter and two more Spitfire wings were with the
Eighth Army. British and American reconnaissance squadrons were
also disposed at various points in the two sectors in order to extend
their range of observation. And as the vanguard of fighters and fighter-bombers moved northwards, accommodation became available for
the remaining units of the Tactical Air Force. Very soon it would be
the turn of the squadrons of the Coastal and Strategic Air Forces.
The Luftwaffe was unable to prevent either this advance of our air
units or the consolidation of our ground forces in Italy. The constant
bombing of its airfields and their subsequent capture had forced the
Luftwaffe farther and farther back and its relatively few fighters, operating at extreme range, were unable to provide appreciable support
for Kesselring's troops. German bombers and fighters did make an
all-out effort at Salerno but, as in Sicily, they were soon outnumbered
and overwhelmed and could do little to check the determination of
Tedder's combined air forces to help their hard-pressed comrades
upon the ground. Thereupon, realising its impotence, the Luftwaffe
had operated almost entirely at night, concentrating such strength as
it still possessed against the beaches and the shipping lying off them;
German army units were left to make their counter-attacks without
any protection except that which anti-aircraft weapons could provide.
These tactics on the part of the Luftwaffe gave our night fighters an
opportunity to show their mettle and they took it in no uncertain
manner.
But although harassed and driven back in Italy, the Luftwaffe did
achieve a notable success in the Aegean. Here, simultaneously with the
invasion of Italy, small Allied detachments had seized a number of
islands, including Kos and Leros, preparatory to a possible seizure of
Rhodes and an invasion of Greece. But neither sufficient ground troops
and equipment nor the strong air forces necessary to support them
were made available to hold these gains. By the end of September the
Luftwaffe had built up a force of over 350 fighters and bombers in the
Aegean area and these formed the vanguard of the German counter-attack which, in a few short weeks, recaptured all the islands that the
Allies, in their over-confidence, had previously taken. Here is an
account of what happened at Leros:
A superior force of the Luftwaffe based on airfields in Rhodes, Crete and
Greece, all most conveniently close at hand, bombed the island almost at
their pleasure. No fighter cover could be given to its small garrison, for the
nearest Allied airfields were some 390 miles away. The invasion began on
12th October and by the 16th all was over. As at Kos, it was carried out partly
by seaborne troops and partly by airborne, whose standard of training and
marksmanship was high. On more than one occasion the magazines of the
Bren guns in the hands of the defenders were shot away as soon as they were
inseted. The Germans also showed that the link between the Luftwaffe
above and the troops below was strong and effective, the first instantly
responding to all demands made on them by the second.
Royal Air Force, 1939–45, Vol. II, pp. 343–4.
The Aegean episode—a daring, if rash, venture—cost us the lives of
some hundreds of troops and airmen, a large quantity of valuable
stores and equipment, a number of naval vessels and 115 aircraft. It
reflected the unfortunate differences of opinion which developed at this
period of the war regarding Allied Mediterranean strategy. Winston
Churchill had been strongly in favour of the expedition but American
opinion was generally less enthusiastic, and when things became difficult in Italy it was found impossible to divert forces to the Aegean in
time to save the situation. ‘The Prime Minister was anxious to provide
support for the islands and my staff and I studied the problem with
the greatest possible sympathy,’ writes General Eisenhower. ‘We came
to the conclusion that aside from some temporary air support there
was nothing we could give. To detach too much of our air force and
particularly to dispatch land forces … would be definitely detrimental—
possibly fatal—to the battle in which we were then engaged …. Those
islands, in my judgment, while of considerable strategic importance,
did not compare in military value to success in the Italian battle.’
Eisenhower, Crusade in Europe, Chap. X. But see also Churchill, Second World War, Vol.
V, Chap. XII.
With the capture of Naples and the Foggia airfields, a pause was
enforced upon our armies in Italy. North of Naples the Fifth Army
met strong resistance along the Volturno River, which needed time
and supplies to overcome. The Eighth Army, after its rapid advance
up the toe of Italy, had almost reached the end of its tether, and its
base had to be moved up from Reggio to Taranto and Bari. Similar
problems of supply and reinforcements beset the Allied air forces. For
the tactical squadrons were now taking positions as far forward as
possible, and the transfer of the strategic bomber force from North
Africa to the airfields around Foggia had begun. Apart from the movement of men and machines, a vast amount of supplies and equipment,
including large quantities of steel matting for landing strips, was
urgently needed. Repair shops and stores had to be established and
pipelines and pumping stations, largely recovered from North Africa,
had to be installed to permit the necessary flow of aviation fuel to the
airfields. It was also necessary to provide a complicated system of
communications for both army and air forces, along with all the administrative and ancillary services which form part of the modern
military machine.
Meanwhile, two things happened that were to influence the whole of
the subsequent campaign in Italy. Firstly the Allies, having decided
that the Mediterranean must now become a secondary theatre of operations, began the withdrawal of some of their best divisions and
several air squadrons from this region in order to prepare for the
cross-Channel attack from Britain in the following year. Secondly
Hitler, on Kesselring's advice, changed his mind about his Italian
strategy. Previously he had intended to withdraw his forces behind
Rome and hold only northern Italy, but now he ordered them to fight
as far south as possible. The line selected ran beyond the River Sangro,
on the Adriatic side, across the mountainous spine of Italy to the
mouth of the Garigliano on the west, a position which, several miles
in depth, was made immensely strong by its river and mountain
barriers.
Thus, in the autumn of 1943, the whole situation in Italy changed
greatly to our disadvantage and the possibility of a rapid advance to
the north became very remote. Henceforward our troops, in reduced
strength, were to be faced by a determined and resourceful enemy,
skilfully led and fighting a series of stubborn delaying actions in which
the utmost use was made of the natural features of the country, its steep
mountains and swift-flowing rivers.
* * * * *
The early capture of Rome was now our immediate objective but its
attainment proved anything but easy. Grimly the Eighth Army forced
its way over the Trigno and then across the more formidable barrier
of the Sangro. By the end of the year, after some of the bloodiest
fighting of the campaign, British, Canadian, New Zealand and Indian
troops had fought their way forward in terrible weather to the line
Ortona-Orsogna, but then they were bogged down. Meanwhile, with
great exertions, the Fifth Army had forced the difficult passage of the
Volturno and pushed forward only to come up against the even more
difficult Garigliano. These rivers and those which lay ahead were at
all seasons serious obstacles, since the gorges in which they ran were
immense by comparison with the flow of water; but when swollen by
rain or snow they became much more difficult, especially as the approaches became similarly waterlogged. In the bed itself, the water
would rise many feet in a few hours, often thus dislocating pontoon
bridges and exposing troops who had secured a footing on the far
bank to acute peril. With railroads wrecked, bridges destroyed and
many sections of the roads blown out, any advance was thus difficult
enough even without opposition from the enemy. Moreover, wretched
weather soon overtook our troops amid the Italian mountains and as
they struggled forward there were frequent references, in terms of
sarcastic disgust, to ‘Sunny Italy’.
During these months of hard effort on the ground, our fighters and
fighter-bombers ranged the sky above the battlefield. They were
specially active during the crossing of the Volturno and Trigno rivers
in the middle of October and of the Sangro a month later. The actual
operations, however, tended to become repetitive; only the place-names changed. Sometimes it would be the turn of the Bostons and
Baltimores, sometimes of the Kittyhawks and Spitfires. And their
targets, the San Salvo batteries, the bridges across the Sangro, the road
convoys by night, were almost invariably those requested by the Army.
Encounters with enemy fighters were rare but early in December
Flight Sergeant Ross,
Flying Officer T. H. Ross, DFC; born Otorohanga, 10 Sep 1921; farmer; joined RNZAF25 May 1941.
who flew a Spitfire with No. 601 Squadron, had
an eventful sortie. On patrol over the Pescara area his squadron sighted
six Messerschmitts, which at once turned back north. During the pursuit, Ross was able to catch up with one of them and shoot it down,
but while he was returning his long-range petrol tank was hit by flak.
It burst into flames which soon enveloped the Spitfire. Ross baled out
and landed safely, only to find himself behind the enemy lines. Undaunted, however, he set off across country and, after a long and difficult trek, reached his squadron.
With the onset of winter the conditions under which squadrons
operated were anything but pleasant. In the vicinity of the Apennines,
blue skies would quickly give way to scudding clouds and torrential
rain; violent storms flooded camps and disrupted communications. On
the airfields aircraft were crowded on to the new all-weather surfaces
of steel mesh. But so precious was each sheet of perforated steel that
there was usually enough for only one runway; pilots, therefore, had
to land on a narrow strip, often with a strong cross wind and with the
certainty of crashing into rough or muddy ground if they swung off
the runway. Control of aircraft movements both on the fields and in
the air above was very difficult. Indeed there were times when the air
overhead became so congested that fighters and bombers were in
danger of running out of petrol while waiting to land. To ease the
situation, aircraft would sometimes be seen taking off in one direction
and landing in another, even with a down wind of anything up to
25 miles an hour. Such a procedure would normally have invited mid-air collisions but pilots quickly learnt to pay the closest attention to
orders from the ground.
As the weather grew colder new technical problems arose. In the
Western Desert carburettor de-icing and oil dilution had not been necessary, but now, in Italy, the air filter on intakes tended to ice up rapidly,
particularly at night. But these and other problems were quickly overcome in order that squadrons might continue to operate at full pressure.
On 2 December 1943, as the first flakes of snow drifted down over the
landing grounds on the Foggia plain, Coningham's Tactical Air Force
established a record by flying 1200 sorties, more than had been flown
in any one day since the start of the campaign. Of that total RAF
Spitfires, Kittyhawks and Warhawks contributed 340 in the Eighth
Army area and a further 70 over Yugoslavia. Mitchell light bombers
flew another 160 sorties in four missions against bridges over the
Pescara River—this was to hinder the enemy from reinforcing the sector
north of the Sangro, now threatened by the Eighth Army.
A notable advance in the system of co-operation with the ground
forces was initiated by the RAF during this first winter in Italy. Previously targets on the battlefield had been described and their attack
requested by army officers stationed at Wing and Group Headquarters,
whereupon, after due consultation, the appropriate squadrons were
detailed and pilots briefed for the attack. But now mobile observation
posts were established with the forward troops at Brigade Headquarters
and in direct communication by radio-telephone with a squadron or
squadrons of aircraft already airborne. The pilots carried a photographic map with a grid superimposed upon it and, using the same
map, controllers gave them their targets. The area of operations would
be settled on the evening preceding each day of battle at a conference
attended by representatives of the Army and the Air Force.
In operation the plan was simple and direct. A squadron of fighters or
fighter-bombers would patrol overhead, usually in line astern; on receiving a request from the Army for attack on a specific target the
Controller would call up his pilots and give them its position, along
with a short description of its nature. A few seconds later one or more
aircraft from the formation, or ‘cabrank’ as it was soon known, would
dive upon it and drop bombs or open fire with cannon. The scheme
proved an instant success for targets fixed or moving could now be
bombed or subjected to cannon or machine-gun fire very swiftly, often
within a matter of minutes after they had been chosen. At first operations were controlled from armoured cars fitted with very high frequency transmitters, but soon the equipment included a lorry, a jeep
and a trailer manned by an army and an RAF officer with a mechanic.
Various modifications of the system were tried as the war went on but
its essential principle remained unchanged.
The ‘cabrank’ system could not, however, have been instituted had
the Luftwaffe been able to dispute the presence of Allied aircraft over
the battlefield. Fortunately our air forces were now possessed of very
great resources in men and machines, and having beaten down enemy
opposition in the air, they were able to maintain the necessary effort
day after day. There could be no doubt, as Army Commanders have
warmly testified, that it proved of great value.
New Zealand fighter pilots were well represented among the squadrons operating in close support of the advance towards Rome. Wing
Commander R. E. Bary's Kittyhawk wing was particularly prominent
over the Eighth Army front. One day early in October pilots flew
186 sorties against enemy concentrations, claiming hits on over 100
vehicles, including several tanks and armoured cars. ‘Largely by your
efforts,’ signalled the Army next day, ‘the counter-attack which the
enemy was mounting has been halted and it is now postponed, if not
abandoned.’ Flight Lieutenant B. H. Thomas and Flight Sergeants
S. J. Fourneau, T. A. Gillard, W. G. McConnochie and R. H. Twiname
were among the pilots of this wing. Thomas, who had been with his
squadron since the days of Alamein, was to continue his fine record
of service in Italy. On one sortie against enemy transport his Spitfire
was hit while diving to attack; he had to crash-land at speed among
some trees, and although his aircraft broke up about him he escaped
injury.
Five New Zealanders were now leading fighter squadrons in Italy.
They were Squadron Leaders E. D. Mackie, M. R. B. Ingram, E. L.
Joyce, R. Webb and D. F. Westenra. All achieved a good record of
service. Mackie, for example, was credited with the destruction of no
fewer than sixteen enemy machines when he completed his second tour
of operations in February 1944. Ingram, a veteran of the Western
Desert, now brought his score up to nine enemy aircraft—one of them
a Focke-Wulf 190 which he shot down while his squadron was protecting shipping to Italy. He was shortly to take his squadron to
South-east Asia. Joyce was to lead the famous No. 73 Squadron for
four months before he returned to England to take command of a
squadron of Mustangs during the Normandy invasion. Westenra,
another veteran of the Desert Air Force, continued his successful
command of Spitfires until February 1944, when he also returned to
the United Kingdom to lead a squadron in the invasion of France.
Other fighter pilots who now distinguished themselves in patrol and
attack over Italy were Flying Officer S. F. Browne, flying with No. 93
Spitfire Squadron, Flight Lieutenant Gould,
Flight Lieutenant G. R. Gould, DFC; born Rotherham, 25 Jun 1922; farmer; joined
RNZAF17 Aug 1941.
who flew Hurricanes of
No. 241 Squadron, and Flight Lieutenant Livingstone
Flight Lieutenant D. F. Livingstone, DFC; born Wellington, 3 Feb 1916; accountant;
joined RNZAF27 Oct 1940.
of No. 111
Spitfire Squadron.
New Zealanders were also well represented among the crews of the
Wellingtons, Halifaxes and Liberators of the RAF bomber force.
Wing Commander D. R. Bagnall, who had done such good work in
North Africa, continued in charge of No. 40 Wellington Squadron
which operated intensively during the early stages of the Italian campaign. Two veteran pilots, Squadron Leader H. H. Beale, who flew
Wellingtons, and Squadron Leader W. R. Kofoed, a Halifax captain,
were outstanding for their work on operations and as flight commanders
in their units.
In the early bombing raids over Italy Flight Lieutenant R. J. Taaffe
of No. 37 Squadron, Flying Officer L. R. W. Howell and Flight Serg
eant R. E. Stowers of No. 70 Squadron were all prominent as captains
of Wellington bombers, while Warrant Officer Laloli
Flight Lieutenant C. F. Laloli, DFC; born Karangahape, Auckland, 5 Oct 1916; radio
serviceman; joined RNZAF8 Feb 1939.
of No. 38
Squadron did good work as a wireless operator. The work of Flying
Officer C. H. Masters, bombing leader in No. 70 Squadron, also deserves
mention; in one raid on Viterbo when he flew in the leading aircraft,
‘the whole airfield was brilliantly lit up as a result of his accurate laying
of flares and in the subsequent attack few bombs failed to find their
mark.’
Through the autumn of 1943 the heavy bomber crews maintained
their attacks wherever possible on targets far and near. The gradual
establishment of the strategic air forces in the Foggia region brought
within striking distance most of south-eastern Europe, hitherto lying
outside the range of bomber bases in the United Kingdom. Belgrade
and Salonika were less than 400 miles away, while Sofia, Budapest and
the Vienna industrial district lay within 500-mile range, and the important Ploesti oilfields within 600. American bombers flew their first
mission from Foggia on 1 October against the aircraft factories of
Wiener Neustadt, and this was the start of a campaign which, in conjunction with Bomber Command and the American Eighth Air Force
in Britain, was to spread far and wide over Europe, disrupting enemy
industry, oil supplies and communications.
For the moment, however, the main effort of the Allied bombers
was directed against the enemy supply routes in support of our armies.
During October the RAF Wellingtons struck at railway marshalling
yards northward along the coast from Rome. American bombers
attacked the railway yards at Pisa and oil storage plants, railway yards
and warehouses at Bologna. They also bombed the important ballbearing plant at Turin, and the adjacent Fiat motor-works and the
railway yards. On 21 October the combined air forces attacked railways and bridges connecting northern Italy with Rome and, in the
following weeks, the marshalling yards at Genoa, Pisa, Bologna and
Mestre, along with important road and railway bridges in the vicinity,
all felt the weight of our bomber assault. Eventually the attacks spread
farther north to include railway communications leading from France
to Italy, where numerous viaducts, bridges and tunnels made bomb
damage more difficult to restore than in level country.
The Luftwaffe continued to be conspicuous by its absence. Indeed,
after the stabilisation of the battlefront north of Naples, the German
air effort over Italy was almost negligible. Fighter and fighter-bomber
sorties in the actual area of battle did not exceed a daily average of
thirty to thirty-five during November and December. Even more
remarkable was the low scale of the enemy bomber effort, considering
the obvious desirability of hampering the movement of Allied supplies.
Between mid-October and mid-December, German long-range bombers in Italy operated on only eight occasions, six of them against the
port of Naples; moreover, a large proportion of the four hundred
sorties flown were abortive. Their only real success was a raid on Bari
early in December, when a chance hit on an ammunition ship caused
major damage and serious casualties in the port. The truth was that
the Luftwaffe, after its severe losses in Sicily and with the demand of
other fronts, especially the need to defend Germany itself, was not
eager to launch intensive operations over Italy. Nor was this felt to be
really necessary now that the Allied advance had brought their armies
into difficult country. By conserving its strength the German Air
Force might be able to react promptly to any major strategic threat—
as it had already done in the Aegean.
* * * * *
The line held by the Germans at the beginning of 1944 was one of
the strongest in Italy. But it was imperative for the Allies to make every
effort to continue their advance and retain the initiative while more
momentous operations were being prepared in North-west Europe.
Accordingly, it was decided to pin down the enemy with a frontal
attack along the Garigliano, then turn his position by a landing behind
it in the Anzio area, some thirty miles south of Rome. A forceful
advance inland from Anzio would cut Kesselring's communications
and force him to retire and surrender Rome. In support of this plan,
the tasks of the Allied air forces were first and foremost to prevent
any interference from the 350 operational aircraft which at that time
composed the remaining strength of the Luftwaffe in Italy. Next came
the disruption of the enemy's supply lines, then protection for the
assault convoys, and lastly direct support for our land forces by attacking suitable targets on the battlefield and its immediate neighbourhood.
The Fifth Army launched its assault across the Garigliano in mid-
January with full support from both fighter and light bombers. The
fighting was bitter and after some initial success our troops were held
in their further attempts to advance northwards. In these rocky mountains the Germans had now created, with lavish use of concrete and
steel, a great fortified system, and from observation posts on the
heights they could direct their guns on all movement in the valley
below. Kesselring was clearly determined to prevent us from breaking
into the Gustav Line which, with Cassino as its central feature, was the
rearmost position of their deep defensive zone. Nevertheless, our continuing attack had the desired effect. It distracted the enemy's attention
from the approaching threat to his vulnerable seaward flank and caused
him to bring up three divisions from reserve to restore the situation.
Our invasion fleet of some 250 ships reached Anzio on the night of
21 January and the landings began in the early hours of the following
morning. Spitfire pilots who had taken off in the pallid glow of a
waning moon were on patrol over the beaches before dawn and at
first light they saw our troops already disembarking—a British infantry
division, with supporting artillery and tanks, on the left and an Ameri
can corps, consisting of infantry, rangers, artillery, tanks and other units,
on the right, near Nettuno. By nightfall the ports of Anzio and Nettuno
were in our hands, whilst inland from the beaches our troops, meeting
little enemy opposition, were rapidly extending the bridgehead. The
whole operation, in fact, achieved complete surprise—thanks largely to
the action of the Allied air forces. During the previous few days they
had been striking hard at all the central Italian airfields and so effective
were these blows that the Luftwaffe was unable to put a single reconnaissance aircraft into the air. In consequence the large concourse of
shipping carrying the assaulting troops had been able to reach the
Anzio beaches unobserved. Once more, thanks to our command of
the air, fifty thousand American and British troops had arrived undetected in full battle array many miles behind the enemy front. Not
until six hours after the first troops set foot ashore did a Messerschmitt
fighter succeed in penetrating the air screen and in taking back to
Kesselring reliable news that the Allies were behind his right flank.
During the next few days the German Air Force did what it could
to molest the invaders, but it was never able to fly more than one
hundred sorties a day. Fog on the airfields and its own depleted numbers made a stouter effort impossible. Its chief success was the sinking
of several ships, including the British cruiser Spartan, which was hit
by a glider bomb. In contrast, the Allied air effort was highly effective.
Royal Air Force and American fighters on patrol above the bridgehead
were numerous and alert. Farther afield, in the area between Rome and
Anzio, the bombs dropped by our medium bombers on road junctions
and bridges hindered the approach of enemy reinforcements, and at
tacks on the Italian railways farther north, notably at Pisa, Empoli and
Pontedera, added to their difficulties. It was, in fact, nearly three weeks
before the enemy was able to muster sufficient troops and supplies for
effective counter-attack.
Unfortunately our forces ashore at Anzio failed, or were not able,
to exploit their opportunity. Their commander, instead of ordering a
swift dash inland, chose to continue with the painstaking consolidation
of his bridgehead, an operation which, owing to the steeply sloping
beaches and the limited capacity of the little port of Anzio, was admittedly difficult. None the less a great chance was missed and the
Germans were given time in which to seal off our bridgehead.
The comments of Kesselring's Chief of Staff are interesting: ‘At the moment of the
landing south of Rome, apart from certain coastal batteries standing by, there were
only two battalions …. There was nothing else in the neighbourhood which could be
thrown against the enemy on that same day. The road to Rome was open. No one could
have stopped a bold advance-guard entering the Holy City. The breath-taking situation
continued for the first two days after the landing. It was only then that German counter-measures were effective. What was their nature? In December 1943 the (German) Army
Group had issued a comprehensive plan of emergency for the whole of Italy. In it was
laid down what troops and columns should move against the possible landing-points,
on what roads and at what times, and what tasks they should undertake. It was only
necessary to issue the code-word “Case Richard” to put into effect these prearranged
plans. In fact, most of the troops, in spite of icy roads over the Apennines, arrived
before schedule. The German High Command helped by sending troops from France,
Yugoslavia, and the homeland …. The enemy kept surprisingly quiet. They were
apparently engaged in building up a bridgehead. It was thus possible to build up a new
front opposite them.’ Quoted in Churchill, Second World War, Vol. V, pp. 426–7.
In
mid-February, after further reinforcements had reached the area, the
Germans counter-attacked and very nearly succeeded in driving our
troops back into the sea. Only after some hard and, at times, desperate
fighting was the situation restored. But by then the road to Rome was
effectively barred by the enemy.
During this critical period at Anzio, the Allied air forces continued
to do their utmost in support of our troops, but there were times when
bad weather prevented them from exerting their full effort. They were,
however, able to protect our men from air attack, and frequent sorties
by bombers and fighter-bombers against enemy strongpoints and
communications did much to ease the situation on the ground. During
the main German counter-attack in mid-February their intervention,
along with naval bombardment, probably saved the Anzio venture
from disaster. At the height of that battle, on the 17th, fighter and
medium bombers, including RAF Wellingtons, flew 782 sorties and
dropped nearly one thousand tons of bombs in close support of our
troops; a few days later more than ten thousand fragmentation bombs
were cast down upon enemy concentrations near Carroceto on the road
to Anzio. Spitfires and Warhawks also dealt effectively with the enemy
fighter-bombers, some thirty of which, operating from nearby airfields,
flew one hundred and fifty sorties on the first day; our pilots shot down
nine of them and damaged another seven, for the loss of only one
Warhawk. The Germans were, however, prevented from making an
all-out effort in the air owing to the need to retain a large proportion
of their fighters for defensive operations in northern Italy, where their
communications were suffering serious dislocation from our incessant
bombing. Our strategic bombers also added to the enemy's difficulties
by their attacks on his airfields, one attack by American Fortresses and
Liberators on the Udine Group in the north of Italy at the end of
January doing considerable execution among the German fighters
assembled there.
After the enemy counter-attack at Anzio was defeated, Allied
bombers maintained their assault on enemy positions and against
roads and railways leading to the area. Ceprano and Pontecorvo were
attacked several times and the headquarters of the German forces were
bombed. Marshalling yards as far distant as Forno were also attacked,
the object being to cut the railway through the Brenner Pass, along
which enemy reinforcements must be carried. But these efforts to clear
a path for an advance by our ground forces were unavailing. Nor were
the tactical squadrons, which continued to bomb road junctions immediately beyond the beach-head, more successful.
The Allied landings at Anzio thus failed to achieve their object,
which was to develop an immediate and serious threat to the enemy's
rear. In the meantime Fifth Army's attack from the south had run into
difficulties at Cassino, where the natural obstacles were particularly
formidable. The town itself, with its stone buildings, had been turned
by the Germans into a veritable stronghold; above it towered the
famous hill of Montecassino, its steep sides heavily fortified and
crowned by an ancient Benedictine monastery which, although not
garrisoned by the Germans, had all the appearance of a grim and forbidding fortress. Montecassino dominated the road to Rome and close
by, at the crucial point, flowed the River Rapido, like ‘a moat before
the castle gate.’ The whole position had for years been regarded by the
Italian military staffs as a virtually impregnable site, as indeed it was.
The first Allied assault, launched at the end of January 1944, had
been beaten back after 34 American Division had come within sight of
success. Thereupon the monastery surmounting Montecassino, which,
says General Alexander, ‘had hitherto been deliberately spared, to our
great disadvantage’, came under suspicion as an enemy observation
post. Opinion varied as to whether it was actually occupied by the
Germans or not but after some deliberation the army commanders
concerned decided to ask for it to be bombed before another attack
was launched. Accordingly, on 15 February, after leaflet warning had
been given, 229 bombers flew over and hurled down some 450 tons
of high explosive on the abbey. It was utterly destroyed and between
one and three hundred refugees within its walls are believed to have
perished.
.These figures are given in General Mark Clark's Calculated Risk (p. 323) but the truth,
which will never be accurately known, may be nearer the higher than the lower figure.
‘The official German figure seems to have been 300. In July 1944 the Bishop of Cara di
Tirreni estimated that some 200 dead were still beneath the ruins. Denis Richards and
Hilary St. G. Saunders (Royal Air Force 1939–1945, Vol. II, p. 360) say “between 300
and 400 women and children”; but there were certainly men among the refugees,
and it cannot be supposed that the bombs spared all of them.’—Phillips, Italy, Vol. I,
p. 211, note 1.
The Germans at once moved in and set up observation posts
and strongpoints amid the ruins. Our subsequent ground assault on
both the hill and town at Cassino came to naught.
The destruction of the monastery at Montecassino was probably
the most melancholy episode of the whole Italian campaign and it has
aroused acute controversy. At the time there was no real evidence that
the monastery was occupied by the Germans and we now know that
it was not. It is therefore said that its destruction was not only an act
of vandalism but also, because the ruins provided excellent defence
posts, one of sheer tactical stupidity. On the other hand, it is contended
that no troops could have been expected to attack so strong a position
as Montecassino so long as the buildings which crowned it stood intact.
Its destruction was considered a military necessity. This, in fact, was
the view taken by the army commanders on the spot, and they had
previously been warned by General Eisenhower in a special directive
against confusing ‘military necessity’ with ‘military convenience’ in
the matter of historical buildings and monuments. It is also worth
noting that their action was subsequently endorsed by the Allied
Chiefs of Staff. Whatever may be thought in these later years, two
things are certain. The decision to destroy the monastery was not
lightly taken. The result was anything but good.
For a fuller account of the bombing of Montecassino Abbey see Italy, Vol. I, Chap. 9.
Yet another frontal attack was launched at Cassino in mid-March
1944. This time the main thrust was directed against the town itself
and once again the bombers were called in to prepare the way. Eleven
groups of heavies and five groups of mediums were employed and
throughout the morning of the 15th wave after wave swept over
Cassino where, by midday, they had dropped 1100 tons of bombs.
The town was completely destroyed. Simultaneously fighter-bombers
attacked enemy gun posts and positions to the south-west of the town
and to the north of Aquino. Then, to cover the advance of the New
Zealand infantry, American Lightnings and RAF Spitfires patrolled
the battlefield, where they found few enemy aircraft to engage. Mustang
and Spitfire pilots observed for the guns and took photographs.
But despite this support from the air the ground attack achieved
little. One difficulty was that the bombing had been, if anything, too
effective; huge craters in the streets and the masses of fallen brick,
rubble and masonry proved formidable obstacles to our troops. The
German garrison, consisting of the redoubtable 1 Parachute Division
which had dived into dugouts and shelters, came out as soon as the
bombing was over, manned the ruins and maintained a stubborn and
successful resistance.
‘This was an extraordinary feat,’ writes General Alexander in his despatch after personally
witnessing the bombardment. ‘It seemed to me inconceivable that any troops should be
alive after eight hours of such terrific hammering let alone should be able to man their
defences. I doubt if any other division in the German Army could have done it.’
A battle on the Stalingrad model developed and
after a week of hard fighting, during which casualties mounted and
progress was measured in yards, General Alexander decided to call off
the attack. Nearly two months were to pass before it was resumed.
Thus, first at Anzio and then at Cassino, did the Germans achieve a
great defensive victory and frustrate our efforts to reach Rome for
almost half a year.
During these months of hard fighting towards Cassino and at Anzio,
New Zealanders continued to patrol and attack with their squadrons.
In the early stages relatively few fighter pilots had combats owing to
the enemy's inactivity, but Flying Officer S. F. Browne of No. 93
Squadron and Flight Sergeant Newman
Flying Officer A. G. P. Newman; born Timaru, 1 Nov 1920; apprentice motor mechanic;
joined RNZAFAug 1941; killed on air operations, 18 Jan 1945.
of No. 145 Squadron were
among the exceptions. Browne shot down a Messerschmitt in the
Volturno area and Newman sent another Me109 down near Chieti.
Some particularly rewarding sorties against ground targets were made
by Pilot Officers O. P. Cross and R. A. Caldwell and Flight Sergeant
G. S. Nordstrand, each of whom flew Kittyhawk fighter-bombers.
Many Spitfire pilots saw action over the Anzio bridgehead. Among
them were Squadron Leader E. D. Mackie, in command of No. 92
Squadron, Flight Lieutenant D. F. Livingstone of No. 111 Squadron,
Flying Officer R. B. Hendry and Flight Sergeant Wood
Flying Officer C. E. B. Wood; born Auckland, 24 Feb 1918; cutter; joined RNZAF17 Aug 1941.
of No. 72
Squadron, Flight Sergeant Cooper
Flight Lieutenant M. R. Cooper; born Waihou, 13 Mar 1918; linotype operator; joined
RNZAFJul 1941.
and Sergeant T. H. Ross of No.
601 Squadron, Flight Sergeants Faulkner,
Flying Officer A. J. Faulkner; born Auckland, 20 Nov 1921; shop assistant; joined
RNZAFSep 1941.
Herbert
Flight Sergeant H. I. Herbert; born Morrinsville, 19 Mar 1923; farmhand; joined
RNZAFSep 1941; died of injuries sustained on air operations, 7 Feb 1944.
and Tambour
Flying Officer H. L. Tambour; born Esbjerg, Denmark, 21 Nov 1918; tailor; joined
RNZAF9 Nov 1941.
of No. 93 Squadron and Warrant Officer Young,
Flying Officer C. D. Young; born Taradale, 19 Jan 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF2 Mar
1941.
who flew with
Mackie's squadron.
Livingstone shot down two Focke-Wulf 190s and a Messerschmitt
109, while Mackie, Cooper and Young each accounted for at least one
Messerschmitt. Herbert was less fortunate. During one air battle over
Anzio his engine failed and he had to crash-land, suffering injuries
which later proved fatal. He was on his second tour of operations and
had twice survived similar hazards during the North African campaign;
on one patrol he had been shot down by our own anti-aircraft fire and
on another by the enemy; he was taken prisoner and then released by
our advancing forces.
Four more fighter pilots who did good work during these months
were Flight Lieutenants Chrystall
Flight Lieutenant C. Chrystall, DFC; born Foxton, 21 Nov 1916; joined RAFJul 1938;
transferred RNZAFJul 1945; prisoner of war, Jun 1944.
and L. J. Montgomerie and Flight
Sergeants Brigham
Flight Sergeant J. McC.Brigham; born Auckland, 8 Dec 1921; apprentice mechanic;
joined RNZAF3 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 12 Jun 1944.
and D. J. Towgood. With their Spitfire squadrons
they frequently escorted Marauder bombers against enemy airfields
and railways and it was during one such mission that Montgomerie
shot down two Me109s which attempted a surprise attack on the
bombers; a few days later he destroyed another Messerschmitt over
Viterbo. Flight Sergeant E. S. Doherty had similar success with No.
242 Squadron; he shot down an FW190 during a sweep over Viterbo
and later, while covering the landings on Elba, destroyed two Me109s;
these victories brought his score to at least seven enemy machines.
Chrystall had an unusual and indeed remarkable career. He had
begun operating at the outbreak of war as a wireless operator-air
gunner in Blenheims, and during the first two years he survived two
complete changes of crews and aircraft in his squadron. He then
trained as a fighter pilot, joined No. 485 (NZ) Spitfire Squadron, and
on one of his first sorties shot down a Focke-Wulf 190 over Dieppe.
Now flying with No. 243 Spitfire Squadron in Italy, Chrystall was
prominent in low-level attacks on enemy transport. While he was
leading a section in one such attack his Spitfire was hit by flak and
badly damaged. Chrystall force-landed successfully and made a gallant
effort to avoid capture. He lived on his escape rations for two days and
then obtained food, clothing and shelter from some Italian peasants.
A fortnight later while on his way to a rendezvous, he stepped on a
mine which blew off his feet. He was forced to give himself up in order
to obtain proper medical attention.
Good hunting over enemy airfields and against rail targets was enjoyed by Flying Officers Badley
Flight Lieutenant D. L. Badley, DFC; born Napier, 11 Feb 1922; clerk; joined RNZAFDec 1941.
and Crozier
Flying Officer A. Crozier; born Ohakune, 4 May 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF10 Oct
1941; killed on air operations, 2 Mar 1944.
and Flight Sergeant
Cotter,
Flying Officer K. M. Cotter, DFC; born Te Kuiti, 14 Jan 1922; apprentice cabinet
maker; joined RNZAFFeb 1942.
who flew Mosquito night fighters with No. 23 Squadron.
Whilst intruding over enemy airfields, Cotter shot down a Heinkel
bomber and Badley destroyed one Dornier 217 and damaged two more.
Flying Officer Henry
Flight Lieutenant R. G. Henry; born Christchurch, 15 Dec 1921; apprentice cabinet
maker; joined RNZAF9 Nov 1941.
and Flight Sergeant Parkin
Flying Officer C. Parkin; born Rakaia, 27 Aug 1922; exchange clerk; joined RNZAF30 Nov 1941; killed in aircraft accident, 16 Jan 1949.
both captained
Boston light bombers which were now operating by night as well as
by day. Warrant Officer H. S. McCullum, navigator, and Flying Officer
Church,
Flight Lieutenant D. M. B. Church; born Ashburton, 2 Sep 1917; despatch clerk;
joined RNZAF4 May 1938.
Warrant Officer Finlow,
Warrant Officer J. Finlow; born New Lynn, 26 Feb 1920; carpenter; joined RNZAFFeb 1940; killed on air operations, 26 Jul 1944.
Warrant Officer May,
Warrant Officer I. V. May; born Wellington, 13 Jun 1920; French polisher; joined
RNZAF13 Apr 1941.
Flight Sergeants Frizzell
Warrant Officer R. J. Frizzell; born Christchurch, 29 Aug 1915; mechanic; joined
RNZAFOct 1941; killed on air operations, 28 Dec 1944.
and Kinzett
Warrant Officer F. R.Kinzett; born Invercargill, 18 Aug 1921; railway porter; joined
RNZAFDec 1940.
—all wireless operator-air gunners—
were among others who did good work with Baltimore or Boston
squadrons. Frizzell had an unenviable experience one night when he
and his crew were making an armed reconnaissance in the Rome area.
On the return flight one engine failed and then when the Boston was
only five miles from base the second engine gave out. Frizzell and two
other members of the crew were able to bale out but in so doing he
caught his leg in his parachute harness. He landed head first in a
ploughed field and was lucky enough to escape serious injury. The
Boston crashed and exploded nearby.
* * * * *
To break the stalemate at Cassino, General Alexander now planned
an attack on a wider front and with greater forces, but it could not
take place for two months. In the meantime the Allied air squadrons
were to do their utmost to reduce the enemy's supplies and weaken
his resistance to the coming ground assault. A plan, known as Operation STRANGEL, was initiated for the interdiction of traffic from northern Italy and a large part of the Tactical Air Force was switched from
the battle area to join with the heavy bombers in carrying it out. The
essence of the plan was for the light and medium bombers to attack
railway targets, especially bridges, south of the line Pisa-Rimini;
fighter-bombers would go for similar objectives closer to the front and
also repair depots, open stretches of track and places where stores
carried by rail were transferred to lorries. As the assault proceeded,
it was anticipated that rolling stock would begin to accumulate in the
marshalling yards of northern Italy, where it would provide good
targets for the heavy bombers. Supplementing this assault on road and
rail, the coastal air forces would pay increased attention to the enemy's
harbours and coastal shipping; his dumps in the forward areas would
also be bombed.
Operation STRANGLE began towards the end of March 1944 and
during the next six weeks the attack mounted relentlessly. An occasional
spell of bad weather did enable the Germans to make repairs to their
battered railways, but our reconnaissance aircraft noted such activities
and soon the cycle of attacks was resumed. By the beginning of April
an average of twenty-five cuts were being made daily in rail and road
communications and by mid-May this had risen to seventy-five and
even more. Soon few trains were getting farther south than fifty miles
above Rome and traffic was usually stopped farther north. At first the
Germans used motor trucks to haul supplies around the broken bridges
from one train to another, but our fighter patrols prevented this work
from being done except at night. Then, as the damage to the railways
increased, they applied motor transport to long-distance haulage, using
up valuable petrol in the process. But even so, delivery of supplies to
the front was substantially reduced.
Greatly handicapped by Operation STRANGLE, the Germans were
unable to withstand our ground offensive which, with close support
from both fighters and bombers, opened on 11 May. This offensive,
on a front of between thirty and forty miles, was a truly international
one. The Americans attacked along the west coast, French forces struck
into the Aurunci Mountains, British troops attacked the Cassino zone
and Polish soldiers stormed the Abbey heights. Short of ammunition
and supplies and no longer supported by their ally, bad weather,
Kesselring's armies were compelled to withdraw. On the 18th, Cassino,
turned from the rear, passed completely into British hands and on the
same day Monastery Hill was occupied by the Poles. On the 23rd, with
the enemy in full retreat from the Gustav Line, American and British
troops struck out from the Anzio beach-head to link up with their
comrades advancing from the south. A fortnight later, on 4 June, the
Fifth Army entered and occupied Rome.
Throughout this advance the enemy was subjected to continuous
assault from the skies, which took heavy toll of his troops and vehicles
and made his withdrawal a protracted nightmare. For the greater part
of the time Tactical Air Force achieved a daily average of well over
1200 sorties, and on one occasion it set up a new record for the Italian
campaign with 1933 sorties in a single day. Little was seen of the
Luftwaffe except on 25 May, when Focke-Wulf and Messerschmitt
fighters appeared in some strength only to suffer severely at the hands
of our Spitfires and Warhawks. With Allied air supremacy now assured,
our troops enjoyed complete freedom of movement behind their lines.
The hazards of congested roads could be ignored and camps and headquarters moved forward with our advancing troops, unhindered by
enemy air action.
The Germans made no attempt to defend Rome. Leaving twenty
thousand men behind as prisoners, they continued their retreat northward using whatever transport was available to get back to their next
line of defence. It was virtually impossible for them to move by rail
for the fighter-bombers maintained the cuts and created fresh ones.
And in their haste to retreat the enemy had no time to make the repairs
that were possible when the battlefront was stationary. So they took
to the roads, only to become a target for further attack from the air.
Their convoys moving through difficult and mountainous country
were forced to keep to the highways, where our fighter and medium
bombers swept down on them and caused great destruction. The
usual method of attack was to smash the head and tail vehicles in a
convoy and then deal with the centre at leisure. ‘The roads along which
their flight had gone presented an amazing sight,’ General Alexander
wrote afterwards. ‘Mile after mile they were littered with the wrecks of
armour and other vehicles, destroyed either by our air force or by our
armoured pursuit or abandoned and wrecked by their drivers when
fuel ran out.’
Through the hot dusty June days, the Fifth and Eighth Armies continued their advance north of Rome. But within a few weeks they met
steadily increasing resistance. For Kesselring, displaying his usual
brilliant leadership, soon rallied his armies to fight a series of stubborn
rearguard actions, thus gaining time for the completion of strong
defence positions, known as the Gothic Line, in the last barrier of
mountains before the country opened out into the wide plains of the
Po valley. It was indeed only after some hard fighting through difficult
territory that British troops finally entered Florence and the Americans
took Pisa early in August.
In support of the armies pilots and crews of the Tactical Air Force
worked hard keeping up an average of one thousand sorties a day.
And it was heartening when, for example, the New Zealand Division,
after being held up for a time by particularly determined resistance
south of Florence, signalled back: ‘Many thanks for accurate bombing.
Counter-attacks prevented and decisive results brought nearer.’ But the
air activity was not confined to the immediate area of battle. Its general
pattern included attacks by medium bombers on railways and road
bridges well to the rear; fighter-bombers operated over the roads
leading northwards and against less distant rail targets; light bombers
attacked supply dumps; fighters were out in their hundreds on armed
reconnaissance patrols and on tactical and artillery reconnaissances;
and there was much light-bomber and defensive fighter activity by
night.
Yet, despite these efforts of our soldiers and airmen, the possibility
of a rapid advance to the north of Italy steadily diminished with the
passing weeks. Apart from the severe opposition now encountered
along the whole front, our land and air forces had again been seriously
weakened by the withdrawal of a considerable part of their strength
for Operation DRAGOON—the invasion of southern France. Whether
this landing in the Riviera and the subsequent march, almost unopposed, to join with the Allied advance from Normandy was an
operation of greater worth than the smashing of the Gothic Line is
open to question. Certainly it postponed the final breakthrough on
the Italian front for many months and prevented exploitation of the
unhappy situation in which the enemy found himself in southern
Europe during the summer of 1944.
The Allied build-up of forces and supplies for invading southern
France had begun during May at ports and airfields of southern Italy
and in Corsica and Sardinia. The assault itself, originally planned to
take place at the same time as the landings in Normandy, was delayed
until mid-August owing to shortage of landing craft. Meanwhile
Allied fighters and bombers were busy preparing the way. American
squadrons did most of the bombing raids and by D Day they had
flown some 10,000 sorties, about half of them in a final intensive five-day effort. Royal Air Force Spitfires, based in Corsica, flew offensive
sweeps to draw off enemy fighters and they also strafed ground targets.
Long-range Mosquitos and Beaufighters attacked enemy airfields,
ports and railways while Wellingtons of the Coastal Air Force patrolled
the narrow seas.
The bombing of radar stations and certain deceptive measures,
including the simulation of a convoy by Wellingtons dropping
‘window’, enabled the landings to achieve a large measure of surprise.
Thereafter, with strong air support and meeting only slight opposition,
our assault forces made rapid progress up the Rhone valley. Fighters
and bombers covered their advance and attacked pockets of resistance.
The enemy air effort was almost negligible—only three Messerschmitt
109s were shot down on the first day—but our fighter-bombers had
more success in their attacks on retreating enemy motor transport and
troop trains. The whole operation was completed in a matter of weeks,
whereupon most of the squadrons which had moved into the south of
France were able to return to Italy.
Back in Italy, where General Alexander's armies had begun their
assault on the Gothic Line, the Tactical Air Force operating in support
now consisted largely of RAF and Dominion squadrons, including a
substantial contingent from the South African Air Force. Both before
and during the ground offensive, fighters and bombers were active
over and beyond the enemy's lines. On the opening day of the Eighth
Army's attack they flew over 650 sorties, mainly against gun positions,
strongpoints, enemy troops and transport in the path of our advance.
The attack was continued during the night when Wellingtons and
Liberators, aided by Halifax flare-droppers, cast down 230 tons of
bombs on troop concentrations at Pesaro while Baltimores and Bostons
sought targets on the roads and railways behind the enemy's line.
Beaufighters meanwhile kept a somewhat uneventful lookout for any
enemy bombers. And this was the general pattern of air activity during
the following weeks as our troops, in some of the hardest fighting of
the year, gradually forced their way into the main defences of the
Gothic Line.
The deepest advances were made on the Adriatic coast through
Rimini towards Ravenna, and in the centre towards Bologna. But the
enemy front was not broken. Kesselring, reinforced by fresh divisions,
had been ordered by Hitler to hold on south of Bologna. And hold
on he did. Then came torrential rains which bogged down the Allied
armies and transformed our airfields into lakes. And as autumn faded
into the bleak north Italian winter with its valley fogs, rains and snow,
the prospect of any further substantial progress before the spring be
came more and more remote. Nevertheless the enemy was given little
respite either on the ground or from the air. Small advances were made
and consolidated by our armies and counter-attacks repulsed. The air
assault on roads, railways and bridges was sustained as far as the
weather permitted and German traffic on the main highways was liable,
without warning, to become the target of Allied fighters and bombers
slipping through the scudding clouds. Kesselring himself discovered
this to his cost when, early in October, his car was attacked and, because of the injuries he suffered, he had to hand over command for
some weeks.
Despite appalling weather and bad conditions on the ground the
Tactical Air Forces achieved a weekly average of about 3000 sorties
during the last three months of 1944. The coastal and strategic squadrons rendered their own specialised help, and such advances as were
made by our own ground forces were aided and in certain cases
actually rendered possible by the accurate close-support missions flown
by fighters and bombers. And while their offensive against the enemy's
lines of communication did not succeed in drying up his stream of
supplies entirely, it at least ensured that Kesselring lacked the means
to initiate any major attack. Meanwhile Allied preparations went ahead
for the spring offensive that was to bring about the complete collapse
of enemy resistance in Italy.
* * * * *
From Cassino to Rome, over southern France, and throughout the
advance to northern Italy, New Zealanders had continued to play their
part. Fighter and fighter-bomber pilots together with light-bomber
crews flew consistently in support of the Army, attacking ground
targets and patrolling the forward areas to intercept enemy aircraft.
Among the fighter pilots who successfully engaged German machines were Flight Lieutenants D. F. Livingstone and L. J. Montgomerie, Flying Officer R. B. Hendry and Flight Sergeant E. S.
Doherty, all of whom flew Spitfires. Livingstone shot down two
Me109s over Cassino and an FW190 near Lake Bracciano into which,
incidentally, the German pilot fell when he baled out. Montgomerie
destroyed at least four enemy fighters before he was himself fatally
injured in a crash landing. Flying Officer Hendry shot down two enemy
fighters and Warrant Officer Aspinall
Flying Officer J. T. Aspinall; born Dunedin, 27 Oct 1917; farmer; joined RNZAFDec 1941.
accounted for another during
a dogfight over the Rome area when Spitfires of No. 72 Squadron
intercepted some fifteen Messerschmitts. By October 1944, Hendry was
credited with three German aircraft destroyed, another shared and one
probable.
Flight Lieutenant G. R. Gould, with Hurricanes, Flight Lieutenants
Lawrence
Flight Lieutenant T. E. Lawrence; born Auckland, 16 Oct 1918; architectural draughts
man; joined RNZAF2 Mar 1941.
and B. H. Thomas, flying Spitfires, and Flight Lieutenant
R. H. Newton, with a Mustang squadron, were other fighter pilots
who did good work during this period. On one patrol over the Ortona
area, Gould achieved the unusual feat of shooting down two Me109s
within a matter of minutes. Lawrence, a veteran of Egypt and Malta,
frequently led Spitfires as escort to Mitchell bombers, while Thomas
after an eventful career with Kittyhawk fighter-bombers now flew
Spitfires on offensive sweeps and attacks against ground targets. Newton was one of the most skilful and experienced pilots engaged in
ground attack operations; he had now completed two tours of operations with his No. 112 Squadron, the first on Kittyhawks and the
second on Mustangs.
Lawrence, Newton and Thomas were among the twenty-five New
Zealand fighter pilots who flew from Corsica in support of the invasion
of southern France. Others who took part in patrol and attack during
the landings and the subsequent advance up the Rhone valley were
Flight Lieutenant Barber
Flight Lieutenant R. J. P. Barber; born Auckland, 25 Aug 1916; joined RAFOct 1938.
and Pilot Officer Frewer
Flying Officer A. V. Frewer; born Christchurch, 2 Aug 1914; apprentice electrician;
joined RNZAFMay 1941.
with No. 232
Spitfire Squadron, Flight Lieutenant K. P. F. Neill of No. 225 Squadron, Pilot Officer H. H. S. Moore with No. 242 Squadron, and Pilot
Officer Doyle
Flying Officer B. J. Doyle; born Gisborne, 10 Oct 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF May
1941.
of No. 154 Squadron. Frewer accounted for one of the
few enemy fighters that were shot down during the invasion period.
During the second phase of the Italian campaign, Flying Officer
A. J. Faulkner of No. 93 Squadron and Flying Officers C. D. Young
and Condon
Flying Officer A. T. Condon; born Rakaia, 14 Aug 1923; clerk; joined RNZAF7 Sep
1941.
of No. 92 Squadron achieved a good record of service
as Spitfire pilots. Flying Officers G. M. Buchanan, Osborne,
Flying Officer A. J. Osborne; born Papakura, 11 Jun 1922; mail-van driver; joined
RNZAF17 Aug 1941.
Palliser,
Flight Lieutenant D. G. Palliser; born Wanganui, 29 Dec 1919; panel beater; joined
RNZAF19 Jan 1941.
and T. D. Stewart were prominent with No. 185 Squadron, which did
specially good work in armed reconnaissance and in bombing road
and rail targets behind the enemy front; Buchanan and Osborne
frequently led fighters on ‘cabrank’ patrols.
CHAPTER 9
Beyond the Italian Battlefront
CLOSE support of the armies fighting in Italy was but one of the
many tasks assigned to the Allied Mediterranean Air Forces. All
those months when our troops were battling northwards to the valley
of the Po, American and British heavy bombers were striking farther
afield—across the Alps into southern Europe and over the sea against
targets in the enemy-occupied Balkans; other squadrons flew extensive
supply dropping operations to aid the various resistance groups,
especially the formidable body of partisans operating in Yugoslavia
under the leadership of Marshal Tito. The Coastal Air Forces also
played an important part, while splendid work was done by photographic and air-sea rescue squadrons. In all these activities New
Zealand airmen shared as pilots and crews of RAF aircraft.
The American and British heavy bombers were organised in what
was known as the Mediterranean Allied Strategic Air Force. The
United States Fifteenth Air Force with its eighty-odd squadrons of
Fortress and Liberator day bombers provided the main strength, but
its efforts were effectively supplemented by RAF No. 205 Group with
its ten Wellington, Liberator and Halifax squadrons operating largely
by night. Railway communications on both sides of the Alps and in
Bulgaria and Rumania, together with oil plants, aircraft factories and
air bases in southern Europe, were the principal objectives attacked.
And as, month by month, the assault continued with increasing intensity, German skill and ingenuity were taxed to the utmost. By the
end of 1944 the widespread dislocation of rail traffic, the accumulating
damage to factories and, above all, the dwindling production of oil
in those areas within range of Italian bases showed that the Allied heavy
bombers were well on the way to winning their battle.
An interesting feature of the campaign against German communications was the sustained minelaying offensive carried out by RAF
bombers in the River Danube. This great river was the natural link
between Germany and the grain lands of Hungary, a strategic route
to the Russian front, a link with Turkey and, above all, a pipeline
connecting the Reich with the Rumanian oilfields. It was estimated
that, in 1942, approximately 8,000,000 tons of materials reached
Germany by means of the River Danube waterway alone. By March
1944 not only had the major part of all oil products coming from
Rumania been diverted from the railways but the river traffic was
twice as heavy as that by rail.
One Rhine-type barge could, in fact, transport a load equivalent to that carried by one
hundred 10-ton railway trucks.
The RAF bombers opened their minelaying offensive early in April
that same year, dropping the first forty mines in the river near Belgrade,
and by the end of the following month a total of 530 mines had been
laid. At first these ‘Gardening’ missions, as they were called, were
flown only in moon periods because the bombers had to fly at no more
than 200 feet, and heights of forty and fifty feet were often reported.
Later on, however, the use of pathfinder aircraft and illumination by
flares made it possible to operate over any part of the Danube during
any period of the month. The minelaying continued throughout the
summer and by October more than 1380 mines had been dropped by
the Wellingtons and Liberators. In their support Beaufighters attacked
river craft or suitable targets in the nearby ports, roads and railways;
eight large oil barges were destroyed– ‘their cargoes mushrooming
up in vivid orange and red flames’–and more than a hundred other
vessels were damaged by these attacks.
There can be little doubt about the success of the RAF campaign. ‘The
enemy has mined the Danube according to plan,’ says a German
report written in July 1944. ‘Thirty-nine vessels have been sunk from
the beginning of May to the middle of June and forty-two damaged
by these weapons. The most effective means for minesweeping are the
mine-detecting aircraft but unfortunately they are few in number owing
to lack of fuel. It is therefore not possible to clear the Danube of mines
with the means we have at hand and the position regarding shipping is
badly affected in consequence.’ By August 1944 the volume of traffic
on the river was reduced by more than half and the Germans forced to
deploy along a considerable length of its course large quantities of
anti-aircraft equipment, including balloons and guns, as well as trained
crews to man them. The delaying of German supplies to the Eastern
Front aided the Russian forces in their westward drive; at the same time
an important contribution was made to the campaign against German
transport throughout Europe now being waged by the Allied air forces
from Britain.
Some ninety New Zealand pilots, navigators, bomb-aimers, wireless
operators and air gunners served with the RAF squadrons of No. 205
Group during the last eighteen months of the war. Three-quarters of
these men operated with the faithful Wellingtons—still the mainstay
of the night-bomber force—while the remainder flew four-engined
Liberators and Halifaxes. There were now many newcomers among the
New Zealand contingent, but a sprinkling of veterans from the desert
like Squadron Leader H. H. Beale, flight commander of No. 37 Squadron, and Squadron Leader B. M. O'Connor, flight commander of No.
70 Squadron, continued to give outstanding service. Beale served with
his squadron for over a year and his leadership and experience were
invaluable during the diverse operations of this period. He was badly
wounded when his Wellington was shot down over Yugoslavia and
died as a prisoner of war. Squadron Leader O'Connor had completed
seventy-two operational sorties by November 1944; he attacked many
heavily defended targets in Austria, Italy, Hungary, Rumania and
Yugoslavia and he was also successful in laying mines in the River
Danube.
Flight Sergeant Cornwell,
Warrant Officer J. Cornwell; born Temuka, 30 May 1922; journalist;
joined RNZAFDec 1941.
Squadron, Warrant Officer J. R. Turvey, No. 70
Squadron, Warrant Officer Harkness
Warrant Officer D. A.Harkenss, DFC; born Te Horo, 16 Jan 1916; shop assistant;
joined RNZAFMar 1941; killed on active service, 23 Jul 1944.
with NO.142 Squadron and Pilot Officer Walker,
Flying Officer E. J. Walker, DFC; born Maungaturoto, 6 Apr 1915; farmer; joined RNZAF7 Mar 1942.
No.150 Squadron, all achieved fine records of service as
Wellington Pilots. Typlical of the good work
done by other Wellington aircrew was that of Warrant Officer Morgan
Flying Officer H. J. M. Morgan; born Kawhia, 1 Oct 1920;
engineer cadet; joined RNZAF19 Oct 1941.
as navigator, Flight Sergeants Brocherie
Flying Officer V. L. Brocherie; born Akaroa, 22 Aug 1913; farmer; joined RNZAFJul 1942.
and Hanrahan
Warrant Officer M. J. Hanrahan; born Hokitika, 6 Oct 1917; machine operator; joined
RNZAFJan 1942.
as bomb-aimers, and Flight Sergeant Popplewell,
Warrant Officer F. C. Popplewell; born Geraldine, 21 Apr 1922; blacksmith; joined
RNZAF25 Jan 1942.
wireless operator. Flight
Lieutenant C. H.Masters continued as bombing leader with No.70
Squadron until he was lost in a raid on marshalling yards at Bucharest.
Flying Liberators of No. 178 Squadron, Flying Officer McNaughton
Flying Officer G. E. S. McNaughton; born Christchurch, 3 Jun 1912; truck driver;
joined RNZAF25 May 1941; killed on air operations, 7 Jul 1944.
as pilot and Warrant Officer Brothers,
Warrant Officer W. Brothers; born Taihape, 21 Aug 1921; postal messenger; joined
RNZAFDec 1940; killed on air operations, 7 Jul 1944.
wireless operator, made a
series of highly successful sorties to lay mines in the Danube; they also
took part in a number of bombing raids and it was on a mission to
attack Feuersbruhn airfield in Austria that they were lost.
New Zealanders had their share of incident. For example, after
bombing the marshalling yards at Campina, ten miles north-west of the
Ploesti oilfields, engine failure forced Flight Sergeant Cornwell to
‘ditch’ his Wellington in the Adriatic; all but one member of the crew
were saved and Cornwell, although injured, was soon back with his
unit. Some weeks later when Wellingtons bombed an oil refinery at
Budapest, Cornwell's gunners scored what was now a rare success in
shooting down a Messerschmitt 110. Another pilot, Warrant Officer
Harkness, had just taken off one wintry night when he found that his
port engine was not working properly. Nevertheless he pressed on and
bombed his target at Cecina. During the- return flight the faulty engine
seized up, but he flew for three hours on the remaining engine before
making a crash landing with only slight damage to the aircraft.
Many similar episodes of perseverance and fortitude are recorded.
There was also the quiet efficiency of men like Pilot Officer Tong,
Flying Officer W. A. Tong, DFC; born Waharoa, 20 Sep 1921; electrician; joined
RNZAF11 Jan 1942.
who captained a Wellington of No. 150 Squadron. On one occasion
he was sent to make a low-level attack against the Pitesti railway bridge
situated at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains in Rumania and an
important link in communications between Brasov and Bucharest. This
entailed low flying up narrow mountain defiles where even a slight
error of judgment would bring immediate disaster, and then bombing
with no other illumination than that provided by the moon. After a
difficult flight Tong reached and pinpointed the target. Determined to
make absolutely certain that he was over the right bridge, he made
four dummy runs at low level before releasing his 4000 Ib. bomb,
fused for eleven seconds' delay, from about 150 feet. It was seen to
fall near one of the stone piers in the middle of the river and when it
exploded the centre of the bridge was ‘enveloped in smoke and flame’.
Subsequent reconnaissance showed that structural damage to the bridge
was extensive and that it was closed to traffic.
An important innovation for the night-bomber force was the some
what belated introduction of a pathfinder squadron modelled on those
which had proved so successful with Royal Air Force Bomber Com
mand. The unit selected was No. 614 Squadron, now equipped with
Halifaxes and possessing a nucleus of men trained in the pathfinder
technique. Commencing operations in mid-April 1944, its crews soon
became skilled in finding and marking the various targets in south
east Europe. The bomber crews welcomed this new development, and
as they learned to trust the illumination provided by the pathfinders
there was a remarkable increase in the accuracy and concentration of
attack.
As in Bomber Command, New Zealanders were among the first
pathfinder crews to operate from Italy. Flying Officer Parker,
Flying Officer T. W. Parker, DFC; born Hastings, 23 Mar 1920; sheep-station manager;
joined RNZAF6 Sep 1941.
pilot,
and Pilot Officer Heeps,
Flying Officer T. N. Hccps; born Wathi, 25 Dec 1912; school teacher; joined RNZAF7 Jan 1942.
navigator, who had previously operated with
No. 462 Halifax Squadron, did particularly good work. Parker went
on to complete an extended tour of sixty sorties against targets in the
Balkans, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, southern Germany and Italy, in
cluding forty-three using pathfinder technique. He was a specialist in
‘blind’ illuminating, for which aircraft made a timed run over the target
area to drop their flares. One night in September he flew to illuminate
the marshalling yards at Bologna. While on the timed run his Halifax
was seriously damaged by flak. Parker managed to keep control of the
crippled machine and made a straight run over the aim aiming point so that
his bomb-aimer could place his flares accurately for the following
visual markers.
In their operations over heavily defended targets, aircrew of No. 614
Squadron were operating with four-engined bombers on a type of
mission for which RAF Bomber Command had learned to prefer the
fast and less vulnerable Mosquito. Consequently the pathfinders had
heavy casualties. Flight Sergeant MacLeod
Flight Sergeant J. M. MacLeod; born Christchurch, 31 Jul 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF21 Mar 1942; killed on air operations, 20 Apr 1944.
and Flying Officer Fels,
Flight Lieutenant P. W. Fels; born
Dunedin, 26 Nov 1920; draper's assistant; joined
RNZAF9 Feb 1941; prisoner of war, 29 Jun 1944.
navigators, Flight Sergeant Foster,
Flying Officer N. L. Foster; born
Frankton Junction, 18 Jun 1919; school teacher;
joined RNZAFJun 1941; prisoner of war, 8 May 1944.
bomb-aimer, and Flying Officer
Ellison,
Flight Lieutenant N. R. Ellison; born Christchurch, 19 Apr 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF6 Jan 1940; prisoner of war, 29 Jun 1944.
wireless operator, were among those who failed to return
from operations during the pioneering stages.
* * * * *
Air operations in support of the Yugoslav Partisan Army were
begun as soon as the Allies were firmly established in Italy. Our long-range fighters and bombers were also required to do everything possible to hinder the Germans building up their air force in Yugoslavia,
to disturb the enemy's control of the Dalmatian Islands, to keep open
the sea routes for supplying the partisans and, indirectly, to prevent
reinforcement of the Italian front from the Balkans.
The assault opened in mid-October 1943 with fighter and light-bomber attacks against ports, shipping, oil dumps, bridges, transports
and gun emplacements in Yugoslavia; heavy bombers paid particular
attention to marshalling yards at Sofia and airfields at Athens. As time
went on the link between the air forces and the partisans grew stronger
and RAF missions were directed more and more against specific objectives closely related to enemy shipping movements or ground
operations. A critical period came in May 1944 when the Germans,
in the hope of recovering the initiative in Yugoslavia, began an offensive against the territory controlled by the partisans. Paratroops and
gliders also made a direct assault on Marshal Tito's headquarters and
both he and his staff had to flee to the rocky fastnesses of the Dinaric
Alps. In support of the hard-pressed partisans British and American
heavy bombers, light bombers and fighters flew more than 1000 sorties.
By 1 June the enemy was back on the defensive and Marshal Tito was
able to signal: ‘British and American aircraft have driven the Luftwaffe from Yugoslavian skies and considerable damage has been
inflicted on German forces. As a result partisan morale and Anglo-
American prestige have soared.’
The growing importance of air operations in the Balkans and the
need for a co-ordinating authority resulted in the formation of a
Balkan Air Force on 7 June 1944. It controlled a miscellaneous collection of fighters, light bombers and transport aircraft manned by men
of many nationalities. And to render their sorties the more effective the
closest contact was maintained with the partisans, and special parties,
equipped with wireless, slipped into German-occupied islands to
report on enemy movements. In its first month of operations, the
Balkan Air Force mounted almost 2400 sorties. The main successes
were scored by Spitfires and Mustangs against rail traffic on the
Zagreb-Belgrade-Skoplje route; the coastal supply line through Brod-
Sarajevo-Mostar was also attacked with good results. Although the
weather was often bad, no fewer than 260 railway engines were claimed
destroyed or damaged, many of which were hauling troop trains.
Baltimores also did good work in raids against such objectives as steel-works, supply bases and rail repair-shops. Beaufighters, carrying
rocket projectiles over Yugoslavia, Albania and Greece, damaged at
least fourteen locomotives and sixty waggons and coaches in five days.
By early September there was a dramatic change in the situation in
the Balkans. Rumania and Bulgaria had changed sides and were now
at war with Germany, while Russian forces stood on the Yugoslavia-
Rumania frontier. The Germans were forced to safeguard rail communications in Serbia and for this purpose withdraw large numbers of
troops at the most critical stage of the battle of Montenegro, which
brought a welcome relief to the well-nigh exhausted partisan forces.
Before long the growing insecurity of their control in Yugoslavia,
and the threat to their garrisons in Greece and the Aegean, caused the
Germans to begin a full-scale withdrawal. This was hastened by the
Allied air assault on their road, rail, sea and air communications. Over
100 locomotives, 320 waggons and 770 motor vehicles were destroyed
or damaged during September, while 25 ships were sunk and a further
44 crippled. An outstanding success was the sinking of the 51,000-ton
Italian liner Rex at Capodistria by Beaufighters of Coastal and Balkan
air forces.
By the middle of October 1944 British troops were established in
Athens and moving northwards, while Russian troops and Yugoslav
partisans had linked up and Belgrade was liberated. German divisions
retreating from Corfu, north-west Greece, and the Aegean were in a
serious plight. All rail communications south of Belgrade were cut and
the only means of retreating were over the roads across Bosnia, under
fire from partisan bands, or by the limited alternative of air transport.
Air strikes against their communications increased the difficulties under
which the enemy laboured, and the assault continued with even greater
intensity during the last two months of the year, when a total of 9200
sorties was flown.
As German resistance crumbled Allied airmen continued to support
the partisans in their relentless pressure on the lines of retreat. In
March 1945, the Yugoslav Fourth Army offensive in Croatia was
strongly supported by intensive bombing by Marauders and Baltimores, while the Strategic and Tactical Air Forces also intervened.
During April single-engined fighters were concentrated at Zara to
provide even closer support. Thus powerfully helped in the air, the
Yugoslavs broke through north Istria to link up with advanced
troops of the Eighth Army at Monfalcone on 1 May. Five days later
German troops remaining north-west of Fiume surrendered; and so
ended a long and arduous campaign which, fought over wide areas,
was of extraordinary complexity.
The activities of New Zealand airmen during the campaign were
many and varied. Among Spitfire pilots who flew some of the first
sorties across the Adriatic were Squadron Leader E. L. Joyce, commanding No. 73 Squadron, and Flying Officer A. F. Lissette of No.
126 Squadron. One day in November 1943, Lissette led four aircraft
to attack motor transport along the Albanian coast. As he went down
to strafe a convoy his Spitfire was hit; oil and glycol streamed from
the engine, which at once began to overheat. Lissette headed for the
coast covered by his companions but, losing height rapidly, he was
forced to crash-land at the side of some hills, inland from Durazzo.
As his Spitfire swept along the ground it struck a rough patch and
turned several somersaults. Lissette escaped serious injury but was
dazed and badly shaken. He just had time to crawl to the shelter of
some nearby trees before German soldiers reached his wrecked Spitfire.
Then an Albanian peasant suddenly appeared from nowhere and led
him along goat tracks until they came in sight of the coast, where he
indicated by signs that guards were posted along the main routes.
After taking cover until dark Lissette went on, but when daylight came
he was only halfway across the coastal plain to the sea. Avoiding
several groups of Germans he kept moving, for he knew that Spitfires
on weather reconnaissance crossed the coast each morning and he
hoped to attract their attention so that a Walrus amphibian could be
sent to pick him up. But his luck was out. He emerged from a clump
of scrub right alongside a party of soldiers preparing a gun position
and was taken prisoner.
As the air effort over the Balkans increased New Zealand fighter
pilots were particularly prominent. Wing Commander R. Webb, as
commander of No. 1435 Squadron and with No. 323 Wing, frequently
led Spitfires to attack enemy transport in the Balkans and shipping off
the Dalmatian coast. On one occasion when four Messerschmitt 109s
were shot down within five minutes, Webb and one of his flight commanders, Flight Lieutenant W. E. Schrader, got one each and shared
in the destruction of the others. Schrader also did good work in leading
his flight against enemy shipping. In one dawn reconnaissance off
Corfu an E-boat was set on fire; in another attack a similar vessel
exploded amidships. In the middle of May 1944, Webb led his wing
on a typical bombing and strafing attack in the Vinjerac area. He had
just set a petrol bowser on fire when his Spitfire was hit and two
explosive bullets burst in the cockpit. Webb was knocked unconscious
and badly wounded in one eye, but, recovering quickly, he asked
another pilot to lead him the 200 miles back to base at Foggia where,
despite his injury, he landed his aircraft safely. Flight Lieutenant N. D.
Harrison, after distinguished service with Webb's squadron, joined
No. 73 Squadron as flight commander and continued to do good work
in bombing missions across the Adriatic. Other pilots prominent with
this squadron were Pilot Officer Horn,
Flying Officer J. L. Horn; born Lower Hutt, 17 Jul 1915; metal worker; joined RNZAFSep 1941.
Warrant Officer Karatau
Flying Officer E. M. Karatau; born Pihama, 1 Dec 1915; student; joined RNZAF6 Sep 1941.
and
Flight Sergeant Buckley.
Warrant Officer T. W. Buckley; born Auckland, 22 May 1920; audit clerk; joined
RNZAFMay 1941; killed on air operations, 26 May 1944.
Flight Lieutenant Jacobsen
Flight Lieutenant C. F. Jacobsen, m.i.d.; born Blenheim, 27 Jun 1921; warehouseman;
joined RNZAF26 Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 23 Jun 1944.
and Flying Officer Lamb
Flying Officer A. H. Lamb; born Dunedin, 6 Oct 1912; commercial traveller; joined
RNZAF27 Jul 1941.
of No. 249
Spitfire Squadron also took part in bombing attacks against shipping
and motor transport. Jacobsen, who had joined his unit as a flight
sergeant, rose to command a flight in less than a year. Flight Lieutenant
G. R. Gould, No. 241 Squadron, flew Spitfires on weather and shipping
reconnaissance along the east Adriatic coast. On one such flight he
sighted three E-boats that were later attacked by Kittyhawks; he also
found and pinpointed several small cargo vessels which were eventually
destroyed by fighter-bombers.
Flight Lieutenant McKenzie
Flight Lieutenant R. G. McKenzie; born Christchurch, 18 Jun 1914; tailor; joined
RNZAFJul 1940.
and Flying Officer Tye
Flying Officer W. Tye; born Marton, 14 Apr 1920; invoice clerk; joined RNZAF23 Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 23 May 1944.
flew with
No. 6 Squadron against such targets as German headquarters, motor
transport parks and schooners plying amid the Dalmatian Islands-
No. 6 Squadron, which had been the original ‘tank-buster’ squadron
in the desert, now carried on its tradition, but instead of being armed
with one cannon under each wing the Hurricanes carried eight rocket
projectiles.
With the formation of Balkan Air Force a small but determined
group of New Zealanders continued operations. Pilot Officer Harrison
Flying Officer T. H. Harrison, DFC; born Hastings, 11 May 1919; postman; joined
RNZAFAug 1941.
of No. 253 Spitfire Squadron frequently led sections on offensive sweeps
and armed reconnaissance over the Dalmatians, Bosnia and western
Serbia. In a July sweep he faced intense crossfire from anti-aircraft
guns to attack a Ju52 on Banjaluka airfield; although his Spitfire was
badly damaged, he pressed home his attack until the enemy machine
was well on fire and flames were spreading to a nearby hangar. A few
months later while leading a flight over Greece he sighted a large
transport park containing some 200 vehicles. He led his Spitfires in
repeated strafing runs until relieved by another section of the squadron.
By the time the aircraft left the ill-fated park ‘smoke from the blazing
mass rose to 8,000 feet while equally spectacular were the intermittent
explosions from the few remaining bowsers and ammunition cars’.
Other pilots with good records in Balkan Air Force were Pilot Officer
A. E. W. Day, also of No. 253 Squadron, Flying Officer Bonifant
Flight Lieutenant B. Bonifant; born Ashburton, 12 Jan 1923; bank clerk; joined
RNZAFMar 1942.
and Pilot Officer Chappie
Pilot Officer P. Chappie; born Oakland, San Francisco, USA, 18 Dec 1922; apprentice
turner and joiner; joined RNZAFMar 1942; died of injuries sustained in aircraft
accident, 25 Apr 1945.
of No. 1435 Squadron, and Flying Officer
F. M. Clarke6 of No.
Flying Officer F. M. Clarke; born Te Awamutu, 20 Nov 1921; farmer; joined RNZAFMar 1942; killed on air operations, 14 Sep 1944.
Squadron. Clarke took part in a series of
successful attacks on German coastal shipping in which a number of
schooners, ferries and barges were destroyed or damaged by rocket
projectiles.
* * * * *
New Zealanders also took part in the air operations over the Aegean
Sea and the eastern Mediterranean. Here the Germans held a strong
defensive ‘outer ring’ consisting of the islands of Crete, Scarpanto and
Rhodes, while behind them a number of smaller island outposts were
maintained to keep open communications. The whole object was to
keep closed the back door to Hitler's Europe through Greece and
the Balkans. Garrison duties were largely in the hands of the Italians until the collapse of their country. Nevertheless September
1943 saw some 35,000 German troops in Crete, 7000 in Rhodes
and some 4000 scattered around the other islands, and they were
strong enough to seize complete control within a few days of the
Italian armistice. Furthermore, within a few weeks they were able
to recapture Kos, Leros and Samos, which, as related elsewhere, were
seized by the Allies simultaneously with the invasion of Italy.
To maintain their troops the Germans used a fleet of ships, mainly
small craft seldom exceeding 3000 or 4000 tons, while plying to and
from Greece or between the numerous islands there were large numbers of caiques, schooners, trawlers and barges. Early air operations
against these supply ships were flown by Beaufighters, Baltimores,
Marauders and Wellingtons of No. 201 Naval Co-operation Group
from bases in Egypt. As a result of their activities during the first nine
months of 1943, no fewer than 163 ships with an estimated tonnage
of some 53,500 tons were sunk or damaged. In addition the Luftwaffe
was forced to expend considerable effort in an attempt to protect convoys, while the island garrisons had to be reinforced by troops which
otherwise could have been employed in the main theatres of war.
Spectacular success against shipping carrying supplies to the Dodecanese Islands was scored by Beaufighters of No. 227 Squadron commanded by Wing Commander R. M. Mackenzie. In one five-month
period under his leadership, squadron crews sank or probably sank
49 merchant ships and caiques totalling 9300 tons and damaged 63
vessels of more than 17,400 tons. Flying Officer W. Y. McGregor
and Flight Sergeant Shattky
Flying Officer H. M. Shattky; born Hastings, 23 Jan 1920; student optician; joined
RNZAF14 Jun 1941.
were two New Zealand Beaufighter pilots
particularly successful in offensive sweeps over the Aegean. On one
occasion McGregor attacked a 2000-ton ship with cannon, setting
drums of petrol on fire, which finally resulted in the vessel sinking,
while Shattky scored a direct hit on a caique and blew the frail craft
to pieces.
There were also bomber captains like Flight Sergeant D. R. Browne,
of No. 462 Squadron, who took part in raids against targets in Crete,
Greece and the Dodecanese. Browne and his crew frequently acted as
‘pathfinders’ and on several occasions their Halifax aircraft was the
only illuminator for a successful sortie.
Fighter squadrons, whose primary duties were the defence of Egypt
and convoy patrols, also made a series of attacks against targets in
Crete. Squadron Leader Stratton,
Group Captain W. H. Stratton, DFC and bar; born Hastings, 22 Jul 1916; sheep farmer;
joined RAF12 Jul 1937: transferred RNZAF1 Jan 1944; commanded No. 134 Sqdn,
Middle East, Burma and India, 1943–44; OC Flying Wing, Wigram, 1945; served
with BCOF, Japan, 1947–48.
a veteran of the early air battles
over France, who now commanded No. 134 Squadron, Flying Officer
Cochrane1
Squadron Leader J. McL. Cochrane; born Gore, 2 Mar 1913; bookkeeper; joined
RNZAFJan 1941.
of No. 94 Squadron and Flight Sergeant Rayment
Pilot Officer H. D. R. Rayment; born Auckland, 12 Sep 1914; builder and contractor;
joined RNZAF25 May 1941; prisoner of war, 23 Jul 1943.
of
No. 238 Squadron were among New Zealand Hurricane pilots who
took part.
The air assault against enemy supply routes in the Aegean and
eastern Mediterranean was maintained throughout 1944. Supply ports,
bases, airfields, radar stations and fuel dumps were also bombed, mines
were strewn in harbours, channels and anchorages, while intruder
raids by night and offensive sweeps by day took their toll of Ju52
transports and other aircraft. By the beginning of 1945 there were
still some 18,000 Germans and 4500 Italian Fascists on the islands of
Crete, Rhodes, Leros, Kos and Me1os. Their lot was not a happy one.
Discontent was growing in the various garrisons and desertions were
becoming common. Towards the end the Axis troops, cut off as thev
were by the Allied recapture of Greece, were wont to describe themselves as ‘independent and self-supporting prisoners of war’. And that
is exactly what they had become, thanks to the efforts of the Allied
air and naval forces. The Aegean story finally ended with the surrender
of the enemy commanders in May 1945, almost four years after it
had begun with the German airborne invasion of Crete.
New Zealanders continued to operate over the Aegean and eastern
Mediterranean during this last year. There was a relatively large representation with No. 38 Squadron, the only Wellington unit left in the
eastern Mediterranean. These men flew day and night reconnaissances,
made torpedo strikes against shipping, bombed ports and airfields and
laid mines in enemy waters. These varied missions were not carried
out without a steady sequence of casualties. Squadron Leader
Green
Squadron Leader A. H. Green; born Christchurch, 15 Jun 1918; joined RNZAF4 Nov
1936; killed on air operations, 6 Apr 1944.
and Flight Sergeant Taylor,
Flight Sergeant L. R. Taylor; born Auckland, 2 Jul 1921; apprentice electrician; joined
RNZAF25 May 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Feb 1944.
both pilots, were among those
lost in anti-shipping operations; Pilot Officer Armstrong,
Flying Officer T. E. Armstrong; born Akaroa, 9 Aug 1912; sheep farmer; joined
RNZAFJun 1940.
navi
gator, was fortunate to escape with severe injuries when his Wellington crashed into the top of an escarpment near Tocra on return from
a sortie to the Aegean.
Among Beaufighter pilots who distinguished themselves in daylight
operations was Squadron Leader Kemp,
Wing Commander W. P. Kemp, DSO, DFC; born Russell North, 1 Mar 1915; abattoir
assistant; joined RNZAF29 Sep 1940; commanded No. 487 (NZ) Sqdn 1945.
a flight commander in No.
227 Squadron. During one offensive sweep over the Aegean early in
1944, Kemp led four Beaufighters in an attack on a small convoy.
His aircraft was badly damaged by flak and he was wounded; two
of the other three Beaufighters were also hit, one eventually ditching,
but Kemp continued with the attack until all three ships were set on
fire. Some months later, at the end of his tour of operations, Kemp,
along with another pilot, set out to deliver a Halifax to Algiers. When
about one hundred miles from their destination two engines failed and
the Halifax was forced to land in the sea. The two men then found
there were no rations and very little water in the dinghy. After two
nights and two days in the dinghy they succeeded in reaching land.
Kemp then walked for ten miles to get help for his companion, who
was badly injured. Flight Lieutenant Simpson,
Flight Lieutenant D. G. Simpson, DFC; born Green Island, 29 Mar 1921; motor
mechanic; joined RNZAF17 Aug 1941.
of No. 603 Beaufighter
Squadron, operated with similar spirit and shared in the destruction
of such targets as merchantmen, escort vessels and a large fuel dump.
On one occasion, he and another pilot shot down two Arado 196s
and damaged a third.
Squadron Leader Hooker
Squadron Leader C. O. Hooker; born New Plymouth, 22 Aug 1913; police constable;
joined RNZAFJan 1941.
as flight commander and Flying Officer
Keys,
Flight Lieutenant M. G. Keys; born Auckland, 26 Oct 1915; electrical engineer; joined
RAFSep 1941; transferred RNZAFJan 1944.
radio operator, were prominent on night operations with Beaufighters of No. 46 Squadron. This unit was committed to night defence
of Egypt but crews varied what was now a monotonous routine by
intruder operations over enemy-held islands. Hooker flew many effective sorties and commanded the unit detachment at Tocra which
covered the Aegean. On one night in February while patrolling airfields
at Rhodes, the Beaufighter in which Keys was flying shot down two
Ju52 transports and damaged a third over Calato.
Warrant Officer McMurray,
Flying Officer D. H. McMurray; born Glasgow, Scotland, 8 Dec 1912; storekeeper;
joined RNZAF23 Mar 1941.
who flew with an Australian Baltimore
squadron, was an outstanding reconnaissance pilot. Towards the end
of February 1944, he sighted the enemy's largest available dry-supply
ship in the Aegean—the 5000-ton Livenza. As a result of his report
twenty-four British Beaufighters and four American Mitchells caught
up with the Livenza; she was set on fire and left sinking.
The transport squadrons continued to do splendid work. Indeed,
their supply and ‘special duty’ missions—the latter usually flown at
night over difficult mountainous country and all too often in appalling
weather—were a major factor in the success achieved by those who
fought so stubbornly beyond the Italian front. During the last eighteen
months of war some sixty New Zealanders served with these squadrons, speeding the movement of personnel and urgent freight and
delivering agents, arms, ammunition, food, medical stores and other
supplies to the partisan and resistance movements in the Balkans,
northern Italy, Poland and southern France. Men serving with heavy
bomber, coastal and even fighter squadrons also co-operated in supply
dropping as the need arose.
The largest and most successful effort was that directed to the
Balkans, especially Yugoslavia, to which the first supply dropping
flights had been made as early as May 1942. By the end of the war
Allied aircraft had flown some 11,600 sorties to Yugoslavia to drop,
or land at specially built airstrips, over 16,400 tons of supplies. In
‘pick-up’ operations, some 2500 persons were flown into that country
and over 19,000, mostly wounded, brought out.
At the beginning of June 1944 Marshal Tito himself was brought
to Bari by an RAF Dakota, while his staff and 118 wounded were
picked up by American Dakotas. At a subsequent meeting Tito requested the evacuation of his wounded, of whom the majority through
lack of medical supplies and a shortage of doctors were in a desperate
plight. This meant aircraft landing at night on hastily prepared landing
grounds in mountainous country with German troops frequently in
the vicinity. However, the task was soon accomplished. In all, Allied
transports flew out about 11,000 casualties, some of them women, to
RAF hospitals in Italy. A similar errand of mercy followed in late
August, when partisans wounded in the battle of Montenegro were
evacuated from Brezna. The airstrip was prepared by those partisans
who had the strength to lend a hand; this after a four-days' march
from another strip which came under shellfire before they could be
picked up. Altogether on this occasion American, Russian and British
crews flew out 1078 persons—1059 partisans, 19 Allied aircrew and
members of the Allied commission.
During the abortive rising in Warsaw, Allied aircrews based in Italy
made a gallant, but only partially successful, attempt to answer urgent
calls for arms and ammunition. The hazards were great. Aircraft flew
a round trip of 1750 miles, often in bad weather and largely over enemy
territory heavily defended by fighters, anti-aircraft guns and searchlight
belts. To make certain of identification of ground signals and to release
containers accurately, crews went in at low speed and little more than
roof-top height, so that their aircraft were extremely vulnerable.
Indeed, the Polish, British and South African units engaged paid a
heavy price in their efforts to assist the patriots in their bid to expel
the German invaders. Operations were flown on twenty-two nights
during August and September 1944, and of the 181 Halifaxes and
Liberators despatched 31 failed to return.
New Zealand representation was particularly strong with No. 148
Squadron, which undertook a large proportion of supply dropping
missions. Formerly a bomber squadron, No. 148 had become a special
duty unit in March 1943, equipped with Halifaxes and Liberators. On
operations Flight Lieutenant Crawford
Flight Lieutenant H. I. Crawford; born Thames, 10 Mar 1918; painter; joined RNZAFFeb 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Nov 1943.
did valuable work as signals
leader until late in 1943, when the lone Liberator in which he flew on
a supply dropping sortie to Yugoslavia failed to return. Flight Lieutenant Elliott,
Flight Lieutenant L. Elliott, DFC; born Petone, 7 Sep 1918; commercial artist and
photographer; joined RNZAF7 May 1940; died Oct 1945.
who had already completed a tour of operations as a
rear-gunner with Bomber Command, was one of the pioneers of air
despatch. Elliott did a special course as a parachutist to gain the knowledge essential to drop supplies accurately and despatch troops or
individual agents safely. He then completed his second tour as the
squadron's despatch leader and won distinction for his work. Warrant
Officer Docherty
Warrant Officer L. G.
Docherty; born Dunedin, 11 Oct 1920; labourer; joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
as air gunner and Flying Officer Domigan
Flight Lieutenant L. J. Domigan; born Gore, 4 Oct 1921; civil servant; joined FAA
Oct 1940; transferred RAFAug 1941 and RNZAFDec 1943.
as bomb-aimer also had fine records on special duty operations. On one occasion
Domigan assisted in the despatch of parachutes and containers in what
proved one of the most accurate drops in northern Italy. Subsequently
No. 148 received a message reading: ‘Absolute magnificent launch.
Could not have been better if you had been at Hendon air display.
All chutes and packages on “T”. Thank you.’
The usual form of ground
signal was a large ‘T’ borrowed from normal airfield ground
signals, which indicated direction of wind as well as the centre of the dropping zone.
The success of special
duty operations depended largely on the efficiency of squadron navigators. Flight Sergeant Ellison
Flight Sergeant B. W. Ellison; born Napier, 24 May 1918; accountant; joined FAA
18 Dec 1940; transferred RAF18 Dec 1941 and RNZAF1 Nov 1943; killed on air
operations, 12 Sep 1944.
navigated Halifaxes on a number of
sorties before he and his crew were lost while endeavouring to aid the
patriots in Warsaw.
Dakota captains of No. 267 Squadron who flew on ‘pick-up’ missions
to Yugoslavia included Flight Lieutenant J. H. Norman, Flying Officer
G. D. Askew and Warrant Officer Rathbone,
Pilot Officer R. E. Rathbone; born Auckland, 6 Mar 1919; sheep farmer; joined RNZAF19 Jan 1941.
all with long experience of
air transport. Flight Lieutenant S. G. Culliford also continued as a
senior captain with No. 267 and, as described elsewhere in this history,
he flew a Dakota to Poland in July 1944 to pick up one of the leaders
of the Polish underground movement, who brought out with him
vital data regarding the German V-2 rocket. A veteran wireless operator
was Flight Lieutenant G. W. Warden, who took part in a number of
hazardous supply drops to the Balkans; in one notable daylight mission
to the heart of Yugoslavia towards the end of March 1944, he was
responsible for the signals organisation of the formation employed and
‘the major success achieved was in no small way due to his energy
and expert performance of his duties.’
Flight Lieutenant J. P. Ford, another very experienced transport
pilot, continued with No. 216 Dakota Squadron, with which he had
flown almost continuously since May 1942. Ford made many notable
transport nights, including trips to Rumania, Bulgaria, Greece and
southern France; he also flew supply dropping and ‘pick-up’ operations to Yugoslavia. During the unhappy political war in Greece, he
captained one of a number of aircraft which maintained a shuttle
service between Bari and Kalamaki to fly in urgent supplies and
evacuate casualties.
Before the invasion of southern France, Halifaxes of No. 624
Squadron operating from Blida, near Algiers, rendered excellent
Service in dropping agents and stores to the Maquis. After running
the gauntlet of the enemy defences, crews often found it far from easy
to identify the flickering lamps and fires which marked the dropping
zones. Nor was it by any means certain that the reception parties would
be waiting at the pre-arranged spot, for frequently the activities of
German troops made it inadvisable for them to put in an appearance.
Nevertheless the proportion of successful sorties was remarkably high.
Flight Lieutenants Hynd
Flight Lieutenant C. A. Hynd, DFC, Croix de Guerre (Fr); born Invercargill, 23 May
1917; accounting clerk; joined RNZAF12 Jan 1940.
and Garnett,
Flight Lieutenant E. W. Garnett, DFC; born Eltham, 22 Jun 1917; farmer; joined
RNZAF6 Sep 1941.
who had earlier flown Halifax
bombers in raids against targets in Germany, were captains whose
consistency won them distinction, while a high standard of navigation
was attained by Flying Officer Neale
Flying Officer L. W. Ncale; born Runanga, 14 Aug 1909; cost accountant; joined
RNZAF30 May 1942; killed on air operations, 14 Aug 1944.
and Pilot Officer Millar.
Flying Officer J. A. Millar; born Auckland, 19 Apr 1920; postman; joined RNZAF30 May 1942; killed in aircraft accident, 16 Apr 1945.
* * * * *
We now turn to the Coastal Air Forces with which some two hundred New Zealanders served during the last eighteen months of the war.
Their main duties were the defence of our own convoys, ports and
bases, and the attack of enemy shipping, and the aircraft they flew
included Beaufighters, Wellingtons and Marauders. Patrols were only
occasionally enlivened by brief flashes of combat, but they were maintained with the same unflagging 2eal shown by their comrades in the
Battle of the Atlantic.
Among the Beaufighter pilots who saw action was Flight Sergeant
Ashwell
Flying Officer P. Ashwell; born Kelso, Otago, 28 Aug 1918; farmhand; joined RNZAFDec 1941.
of No. 153 Squadron, operating from a base near Algiers.
Scrambled one night in pursuit of enemy aircraft over the North
African shipping lanes, he intercepted a Dornier 217; holding his fire
until he had closed to within about fifty yards, he had the satisfaction
of seeing the Dornier burst into flames and then go spinning down into
the sea. Another Beaufighter crew of No. 256 Squadron-Flying
Officer Nicolson
Flight Lieutenant J. M. Nicolson; born Dunedin, 22 Apr 1921; stock and station clerk;
joined RNZAF15 Jun 1941.
with Flying Officer Ching
Flight Lieutenant A. H. Ching; born Reefton, 25 Jan 1923; clerk; joined RNZAFJul 1942; died of injuries sustained in aircraft accident, 8 Aug 1945.
as his radio observer-
were on patrol some ninety miles off Algiers when they sighted six
Ju88s. Selecting one which was flying apart from the main formation,
they sent it down a flaming mass to crash upon the sea.
Daylight strikes against enemy ships with torpedo and later with
rocket projectiles were among the highlights for crews like Flight
Sergeant Furness
Flying Officer J. P. Furness; born Auckland, 17 Jun 1923; apprentice engineer; joined
RNZAFFeb 1942.
and Flying Officer Forbes
Flying Officer W. H. Forbes; born Blenheim, 26 Jan 1923; draughtsman; joined RNZAF19 Sep 1942.
of No. 272 Squadron.
Flight Lieutenants C. M. Gibbs, Flight Lieutenant Gellatly,
Squadron Leader W. R. Gellatly; born Dnnedin, 17 Dec 1920; architectural draughtsman; joined RNZAFFeb 1940; commanded No. 293 ASR Sqdn 1944–45.
Flying
Officer Cornish
Flight Lieutenant N. Cornish; born Auckland, 7 Apr 1917; builder; joined RNZAFMar 1941; killed on air operations, 1 Jul 1944.
and Pilot Officer Holland
Flying Officer M. L. Holland; born Christchurch, 6 Jun 1918; shepherd; joined RNZAFDec 1941.
were among the pilots
who completed many sorties with No. 14 Marauder Squadron. Gibbs
had joined the squadron after serving for almost eighteen months in
transport and supply dropping missions. Gellatly had seen service with
light-bomber units in the United Kingdom, including the New Zealand
Ventura squadron, and had also captained Bisleys and Bostons during
the North African campaign.
Throughout the spring and summer of 1944 the assault by German
U-boats and aircraft on Allied shipping in the Mediterranean grew
weaker and weaker. For example, in the three months May to July,
only one destroyer and two merchant ships were sunk—a striking
contrast to the heavy losses suffered by convoys before the victory in
North Africa. During the same period four enemy submarines were
sunk and fourteen Ju88s shot down.
With the invasion of southern France and the early capture of Toulon
and Marseilles, German U-boats in the Mediterranean were left without
an adequate base from which to continue operations. Three U-boats
were scuttled in Toulon in August and a further three were scuttled
off the Turkish coast on 10 September; nine days later the last U-boat
to be sunk in the Mediterranean fell victim to a naval force south of
Greece. Thereafter Allied ships in the Mediterranean were completely
free of the submarine menace which had plagued them for so long.
With enemy activity thus diminishing, the men who flew anti-submarine patrols could seldom report an eventful sortie. But their
work deserves recognition. In particular one must mention the crews
of the Leigh Light Wellingtons, who kept up their long patrols over
the sea night after night. It was as captain of one of these aircraft that
Flight Lieutenant Bamford
Flight Lieutenant R. D. Bamford; born Auckland, 27 Nov 1917; university student;
joined RN2AF May 1941; killed on air operations, 8 Jan 1944.
made a gallant attack on a German U-boat
off the Spanish coast early in 1944. There were three other New
Zealanders in his crew—Flying Officer Colquhoun,
Flying Officer I. A. Colquhoun; born Oamaru, 10 Jan 1920; school teacher; joined
RNZAFMar 1941; killed on air operations, 8 Jan 1944.
navigator, Flying
Officer Medcalf,
Flight Lieutenant W. L. Medcalf; born Liverpool, England, 3 Aug 1920; motor
mechanic; joined RNZAFAug 1941.
wireless operator, and Flying Officer Cull
Flight Lieutenant D. G. Cull; born Fairfax, 15 Oct 1918; bushman; joined RNZAF Jan
1941.
as gunner.
During the approach, which was made in bright moonlight, accurate
flak from the U-boat set the Wellington on fire, but Bamford completed
his attack before bringing his Wellington down on the sea; neither he
nor his navigator survived but the remainder of his crew were picked
up from their dinghy by a Polish destroyer. Flying Officers Dudding
Flight Lieutenant T. V. Dudding; born Whangarei, 2 Jun 1923; clerk; joined RNZAFMay 1941.
and Everiss,
Flight Lieutenant R. E. Everiss; born New Plymouth, 24 Sep 1920; insurance clerk;
joined RNZAF14 Jun 1941.
Flight Sergeants N. McC. Clark
Flying Officer N. McC. Clark; born Auckland, 2 Jan 1921; civil servant; joined RNZAF15 Jun 1941.
and Franklin
Flying Officer J. P. Franklin; born Napier, 1 Mar 1921; clerk; joined RNZAFAug 1941.
all piloted
Leigh Light Wellingtons of No. 36 Squadron in numerous searches
for the elusive U-boats.
It is also interesting to record that a small group of New Zealanders
—some twenty aircrew and nine radar mechanics—made their contribution to the safety of Allied shipping in the approaches to the Red
Sea, the Persian Gulf and the western area of the Indian Ocean. They
served with the Catalina, Wellington, Sunderland and Bisley squadrons
that flew from bases in East Africa and at Aden. The patrols, as usual,
were long and monotonous and there were some months when aircraft from Aden alone flew more than two thousand hours without
incident. Yet crews had the satisfaction of knowing that two million
tons of shipping passed safely through their area.
Two New Zealanders, Sergeants Martin
Warrant Officer R. F. Martin; born Napier, 14 Dec 1918; farmer; joined RNZAF18 Jan 1941.
and Peters,
Warrant Officer W. M. Peters; born Auckland, 22 Nov 1922; clerk; joined RNZAF10 Jul 1940.
were, however, fortunate enough to see action during August 1943. They were
gunners in a Catalina flying-boat which found the German submarine
U.I 97 patrolling the convoy route near the southern end of the Mozambique Channel and east of Durban. In a spirited attack with depth-charges and machine-gun fire the enemy craft was damaged. Then, for
over thirty minutes, the Catalina made strafing attacks until the U-boat
submerged and sent up a deceptive patch of oil. The crew of the flying-boat were not to be put off by this subterfuge and continued to patrol
the area. An hour later, when the U-boat again broke surface, it was
seen to have a decided list to port. The enemy gunners immediately
opened fire on the flying-boat and intermittent action continued for
four hours. A relieving Catalina now appeared. Martin and Peters were
again at their guns as their aircraft went in yet again, this time clearing
the U-boat's deck and so enabling the second flying-boat to follow up
with an accurate depth-charge attack. This sent the U-boat down,
leaving large oil patches and bubbles on the sea. No survivors or
wreckage were seen but the sinking was later confirmed.
Air-Sea Rescue squadrons of the Coastal Air Forces did splendid
work in picking up many hundreds of Allied airmen forced to ‘ditch’
or bale out while over the Mediterranean. New Zealanders had been
among the pioneers of this work in the Middle East and Squadron
Leader S. W. R. Hughes had commanded the Air-Sea Rescue Flight
based in Egypt. Now, during the last two years of hostilities, almost
forty New Zealand airmen flew with the RAF Walrus, Warwick and
Wellington aircraft which played a leading part in the work of search
and rescue.
The Walrus, which carried a crew of three—pilot, navigator and
wireless operator—proved of the utmost value in that it could usually
alight safely on the relatively calm Mediterranean. Flight Sergeant
Divers
Flying Officer A. Divers, DFM; born Dunedin, 15 Mar 1921; warehouseman; joined
RNZAFAug 1941.
of No. 283 Squadron and Flight Sergeant Berry
Warrant Officer J. R. Berry, DFM; born Kurrikurri, Aust, 14 Feb 1911. wicker worker;
joined RNZAFOct 1940.
of No. 284
Squadron were conspicuous for their operations with these unarmed
aircraft.
In one period of four months Divers was responsible for eleven
successful rescues of British and American airmen and on several
occasions he displayed unusual audacity. For example, early in July
1943 he rescued a fighter pilot from a position only fifteen miles off
Sardinia, still in enemy hands. A fortnight later he rescued another
pilot twenty miles off Sicily despite considerable enemy activity; the
next month he repeated this exploit by picking up a fighter pilot eight
miles outside the port of Vulcano, although his aircraft was the target
for a number of enemy anti-aircraft batteries. But his most outstanding
achievement was on 3 November 1943. On that day he had been discharged from hospital and had returned to his unit with instructions
that he was not fit for flying for a further two weeks. On arrival he
found all other pilots were away in other sectors and that a distress
call had been received from a position west of the Italian coast. There
was no senior officer to whom he could refer so Divers decided to
answer the call himself. He flew his Walrus to the position, located a
dinghy, landed on the sea and took five aircrew safely aboard. They
said their dinghy was leaking so badly that they could not have possibly
survived in it for more than another two hours. Meanwhile the rough
sea had torn such large gaps in the fabric of the amphibian that Divers
was unable to take off; he attempted to taxi but this soon became impracticable. However, he managed to keep his aircraft afloat and, after
being tossed about for about ten hours, the crew and the rescued
airmen were picked up the next morning by an American hospital ship.
The ship's log reads: ‘Sea rough, sky overcast, rain squalls. It required
considerable persuasion by the Chief Engineer to induce the pilot to
leave the damaged aircraft. In our estimation the plane could not
survive.’
In a period of six weeks Flight Sergeant Berry was concerned in the
rescue of eight aircrew, all from positions dangerously close to the
enemy coast. On one mission from Sicily his Walrus picked up two
fighter pilots near Cape Spartivento in the toe of Italy—one of them
was only a few hundred yards from the shore and the aircraft was
being fired on while it landed and took off again. On another occasion
Berry's aircraft was sent to search for the leader of a Spitfire wing.
As the Walrus alighted beside the pilot's dinghy, its Spitfire escort was
attacked by two Messerschmitt 109s and one was shot down. The
Walrus was also attacked as it sat on the water and was damaged in the
hull below the waterline. Berry covered two holes near the tail with
his hands, and with the inrush of water thus reduced the Walrus was
able to take off and fly back to its base in Sicily. One day later in the
campaign Berry and his crew made two sorties lasting nearly seven
hours from Pomigliano, near Naples, and rescued seven American
airmen.
Other New Zealanders prominent in air-sea rescue were Squadron
Leader W. R. Gellatly, who commanded No. 293 Squadron, equipped
with Walrus amphibians and Warwicks, and Flight Lieutenant Grant,
Flight Lieutenant J. R. Grant; born Gisborne, 24 Apr 1914; clerk; joined RNZAFFeb 1941.
who served as flight commander with No. 283 Squadron and captained
Warwicks. Flying Officer Kearse,
Flight Lieutenant K. H. Kearse; born Wanganui, 19 Nov 1916; clerk; joined RNZAF29 Nov 1941.
navigator, and Flight Sergeants
Scown
Warrant Officer A. S. Scown; born Patea, 15 Mar 1921; farmer; joined RNZAF29 Nov
1941.
and Watson,
Warrant Officer A. A. Watson; born Dunedin, 25 Jul 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF6 Jul 1941.
wireless operator–air gunners of No. 284
Squadron, and Flight Sergeant Ritchie,
Warrant Officer M. V. H. Ritchie; born Cromwell, 22 Aug 1922; farmhand; joined
RNZAF30 Nov 1941.
wireless operator of No. 293
Squadron, took part in successful rescues in the central Mediterranean
as aircrew with Warwicks, which were capable of carrying an airborne
lifeboat. With No. 294 Wellington Squadron covering the eastern
Mediterranean, Flying Officer Freeman
Flight Lieutenant F. P. Freeman; born Otaki, 18 Feb 1918; farm labourer; joined
RNZAFJan 1942.
and Pilot Officer Lister
Flying Officer G. D. Lister; born Napier, 7 Jun 1920; draughting and clerical cadet;
joined RNZAF14 Jun 1941.
did
good work as captains and Pilot Officer Drake
Flying Officer R. D. W. Drake; born Walthamstow, London, 1 Jul 1922; shipwright;
joined RNZAFJan 1941.
as a wireless operator.
Photographic reconnaissance was yet another specialised air activity
in which New Zealanders were concerned. Its importance may be
judged from the fact that in the twelve months to October 1944 almost
eight thousand effective sorties were flown by British and American
photographic aircraft. A detailed description of operations is not possible here but the following glimpses will give some impression of the
work and its influence on both air and ground operations.
In January 1944 reconnaissance over Ploesti revealed that the Germans had built a complete decoy town incorporating the essential
features of Ploesti itself, including accurate and well-positioned dummies of all the main oil refineries. In February the photographic
squadrons were called upon to provide material for the preparation
of maps showing the location of all enemy airfields within a 700-mile
radius of Foggia. Another special task came during the advance on
Rome. On this occasion Tactical Air Forces required annotated prints
of all important bridges in central Italy for use in the interdiction programme against enemy road and rail communications leading to the
battle area. Mid-1944 also brought additional demands for reports on
targets in Yugoslavia, Rumania, Bulgaria and Greece; special cover
of Danube river traffic in connection with the prolific minelaying by
the RAF bomber squadrons was another feature of this time. Survey
work, reports on harbours, airfields and enemy defences in preparation
for the invasion of southern France and nights to Germany, Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Poland also absorbed many sorties. Areas in
northern Italy were not neglected and there was no lack of support
for army requirements during the campaign.
The outstanding New Zealand personality in this photographic
reconnaissance work in the Mediterranean was Wing Commander R. C.
Buchanan, who had concentrated on such duties since mid-1942 and
won special commendation during the campaign in North Africa. He
now commanded No. 682 Photographic Reconnaissance Squadron for
seven months and was then appointed wing leader of the RAF's photo-reconnaissance wing. Under Buchanan's leadership, No. 682 Squadron
operated intensively. For example, in July 1944, pilots made 236 sorties
involving over 700 hours' flying. Missions were varied. On one of
them Buchanan photographed Dalmatian ports and bomb damage on
targets in Greece; in another he covered sections of the Po valley and
the city of Milan, while on a third he went to nine airfields in southern
Germany. On one sortie early in September, Buchanan was chased by
an Me262 jet fighter while searching for bases from which these aircraft were operating. The jet gained rapidly on his Spitfire but Buchanan
went down in a sharp spiral almost to ground level and, following the
valley of the Rhine, finally shook off his pursuer as he flew through a
pass in the Alps.
Other New Zealand veterans of photographic reconnaissance were
Flight Lieutenants Olson
Flight Lieutenant O. P. Olson, DFC; born Auckland, 2 Sep 1920; student; joined
RNZAF2 Mar 1941; prisoner of war, 29 Dec 1944; killed in Tangiwai train accident,
24 Dec 1953.
and Walker
Flight Lieutenant P. M. Walker, DFC; born Te Awamutu, 28 Jun 1919; electrician;
joined RNZAF13 Apr 1941.
of No. 680 Squadron and
Flight Lieutenant Burnet
Flight Lieutenant J. B. Bumet; born Wellington, 25 May 1916; clerk; joined RNZAFSep 1941; killed on air operations, 2 Oct 1943.
of No. 683 Squadron. Olson and Walker
gained distinction for their work over the Aegean Sea and the Dodeca
nese archipelago. During their tours both men completed some 300
operational hours, repeatedly flying deep in enemy territory and returning with photographs of the utmost value. Burnet flew Spitfires
with No. 683 Squadron based at Luqa, Malta. Early in October 1943,
he was sent to Greek airfields bordering the Aegean Sea, and after
completing his task landed at Brindisi to refuel; he then set off for
Malta, but a violent thunderstorm blanketed the island in dense cloud,
and although Burnet was in contact to within a few miles he failed to
arrive at base.
* * * * *
To conclude this chapter it is appropriate to record the names of
some of the many New Zealand airmen who did good work in non-operational roles during the last two years of the war. Several held
important commands or appointments, and a number of men who had
seen their share of action in the Mediterranean area gave the benefit
of their experience to the training organisation; others filled a variety
of posts as engineer, navigation, signals and medical officers or airfield
controllers. Good work was also done by the staff of the RNZAF
Liaison Office in Cairo, which dealt with matters of promotion, posting,
repatriation, and assisted with personal problems.
Of particular interest was the work of Sir Keith Park as Air Officer
Commanding-in-Chief, Middle East. He took up this post in January
1944 following his brilliant conduct of both defensive and offensive
operations as Air Officer Commanding, Malta. Park remained in his
new position until February 1945, when he moved to South-east Asia
as Allied Air Commander-in-Chief. Air Commodore H. D. McGregor
and Group Captain M. W. B. Knight, after long spells on the operations planning staff of Mediterranean Allied Air Force, spent the closing
months of the war in new appointments; McGregor became Air Officer
Commanding, Levant, and Knight assumed comand of RAF Station,
Ismailia, in Egypt.
Air Commodore McKee,
Air Vice-Marshal Sir A. McKee, KCB, CBE, DSO, DFC, AFC; RAF; born Oxford,
Canterbury, 10 Jan 1902; joined RAF1926; permanent commission 1936; commanded
No. 9 Sqdn 1940; Wing Commander Training, No. 3 Bomber Group, 1941; commanded
RAF Station, Marham, 1941–42; RAF Station, Downham Market, 1942–43; Base
Commander, Mildenhall, 1943–45; AOC No. 205 Group, Italy, 1945; SASO, HQ
Mediterranean and Middle East, 1946–47; Commandant RAF Flying College, Manby,
1949–51; AOC No. 21 Group, Flying Training Command, 1951–53.
who had long been associated with heavy
bombers based in the United Kingdom, commanded No. 205 Group
in the final days of hostilities and the immediate post-war period.
Group Captain Jarman,
Group Captain L. E. Jarman, DFC; RAF; born Christchurch, 17 Aug 1907; joined
RAF1929; permanent commission 1934; CFI, No. 23 OTU, 1941; commanded RAF
Station, Litchfield, 1941–42; SASO, No. 93 Group, 1942–43; commanded RAF Station,
Kirmington, 1943; RAF Station, Wyton, 1943–44; SASO, No. 205 Group, Italy.
1944–45.
another experienced leader of bombers, was
Senior Air Staff Officer with this group for a nine-month period
beginning in mid-1944. Group Captain L. H. Anderson occupied important posts in the Middle East, including the command of wings and
then of RAF Station, Berka, before leaving for South Africa to control
a large training school. He had previously done good work at training
schools in the Union during 1941 and 1942.
Group Captain J. J. McKay, following his successful command of
Liberators, spent a period as Senior Air Staff Officer at Headquarters,
Levant. In May 1944 he was sent to Italy, where he took over as commander of No. 240 Liberator Wing—a post he was to hold for the
next eighteen months. Group Captain E. W. Whitley, of ‘Whitforce’
fame, commanded groups in the Middle East, while Wing Commander
J. E. S. Morton was Chief Training Instructor at No. 203 Group and
Wing Commander S. W. R. Hughes was on the training staff at Royal
Air Force Headquarters.
CHAPTER 10
The End In Italy
BY the autumn of 1944 the Allied armies had broken into the Gothic
Line, that strong system of fortifications which the enemy had
prepared to defend northern Italy. But before our troops could fight
their way through the last mountain barriers severe weather intervened.
And as the valleys filled with mist and the roads turned to quagmires,
it became evident that holding operations were all that could be undertaken until the advent of spring made it possible to resume the offensive
on a grand scale.
Close air support was thereupon reduced to the minimum required
for strictly local operations and the main task of the Mediterranean
Allied Air Forces became the reduction of the enemy's fighting capacity
in readiness for the final reckoning. To achieve this it was necessary
to deny him freedom of movement and access to his sources of supply—
in other words, to disrupt his lines of communication, particularly
the frontier rail routes. The enemy divisions which remained in Italy
would then be cut off and without the resources to carry out sustained
operations; the transfer of large forces to reinforce other fronts would
also be impracticable.
The railway and road through the Brenner Pass connecting Verona
with Innsbruck was still the main lifeline for the enemy forces in Italy
and it therefore received high priority for attack. In January 1945,
despite twelve days on which the route was shrouded in thick cloud, a
total of 1725 tons of bombs were dropped by medium bombers of
Tactical Air Force, with Avisio, Rovereto and San Michele as their
main targets; British and American heavy bombers also joined in
striking hard at rail targets, notably at the Verona marshalling yards.
The combined assault during this month made the Brenner route impassable for fifteen days and probably for another five; photographic
reconnaissance also showed little rail activity south of Trento. In
February better weather produced better results. Nearly 5000 tons of
high explosive from medium and heavy bombers, together with over
1000 sorties by fighter–bombers, so devastated the Brenner route that
at no time was it open to continuous through traffic. During March
ten to twelve blocks at a time were common and on one occasion
there were fifteen on the vital stretch between Verona and Bolzano.
Similar havoc had meantime been wrought upon the railways in the
north–eastern frontier zone. By the end of March the Brenner and
other routes were little more than a series of disconnected stretches
of track, and German stocks of petrol had been so much reduced that
any considerable movement by road of troops or supplies was out of
the question. The neutral Swiss were so impressed that they now
hastened to conclude an agreement with the Allies which forbade the
passage of war materials through their country between Italy and the
Reich. The blockade of northern Italy was thus virtually complete.
Along with this onslaught on the frontier railways, a considerable
air effort was directed against enemy communications immediately
behind the battle area. Medium bombers paid particular attention to
the lines leading to Milan, Turin and Genoa, while fighter–bombers
cratered tracks and broke bridges, especially in the areas north of the
Po and east of the Adda River. Night fighters struck at road convoys
both in the central Po valley and farther north. Dumps and installations
were also attacked, and as the date of the land offensive drew nearer
the onslaught upon them in all areas mounted steadily. Ships sailing
along those stretches of the Adriatic coast still under German control
were also bombed, for in desperation the enemy had resorted to using
small vessels and barges to supplement his dwindling supplies.
In all these various ways the air forces did their utmost to ensure that
the enemy would be as weak as possible when the time came to launch
the final land offensive.
Towards the end of March 1945, General von Vietinghoff took over
command of the German forces in Italy in succession to Field Marshal
Kesselring, who had been recalled to assume the command of the
collapsing Western Front. The enemy forces in Italy were still strong
for Hitler seemed determined to hold this front, possibly because he
still retained visions of a last stand in a Southern Redoubt amidst the
crumbling ruins of his Third Reich. General Alexander's armies,
which comprised seventeen divisions, four Italian combat groups,
six armoured and four infantry brigades, were now faced by twenty–
three German and four Italian divisions. Of these, sixteen German
divisions and one Italian held the Apennine–Senio line, with two
German mobile divisions in reserve, the remainder of the enemy forces
being stationed in the north–east and north–west, where Yugoslav
partisan activities in the neighbourhood of Trieste and Allied movements on the other side of the Alps kept them fully occupied.
The Allies, however, had one great advantage—their overwhelming
air superiority which, quite apart from its achievement in weakening
enemy resistance, had enabled our ground forces to make their preparations for the coming offensive with complete immunity and in possession of full information about the enemy's dispositions and possible
counter moves. The air force now retained in Italy by the Germans
was almost negligible and during the first three months of 1945 its
activity had been so slight that our fighter pilots seldom had opportunity for combat. The only enemy operations maintained with any regularity were reconnaissance sorties, some of which in March were flown
by a small detachment of jet aircraft. But it is doubtful whether they met
even the minimum intelligence requirements of the German Army.
The morning of 9 April was unusually quiet with little activity either
in the air or on the ground. Then, in the early afternoon the storm
burst as 1750 Allied fighters and bombers went into the attack. Wave
after wave of Fortresses, Liberators, Marauders, Mitchells, Baltimores
and Bostons swept over the enemy lines, and as their bombs exploded
clouds of dust rose across the Senio. A carpet of 1692 tons of bombs
was laid by the heavy bombers in defended areas west and south–west
of Lugo; medium bombers saturated gun positions in the vicinity of
Imola with 24,000 twenty–pound incendiaries; and as soon as these
carpets had been laid, fighter–bombers went screaming down upon
command posts, divisional headquarters, gun positions, buildings,
battalion and company headquarters, causing consternation and confusion among the enemy troops in the forward areas. Our guns then
opened up with a heavy barrage and in the evening the Eighth Army
attacked across the River Senio. Its first objectives were quickly captured and soon British, Indian, Polish and New Zealand troops were
fighting their way forward beyond the fortified floodbanks at which
they had gazed so enviously all the winter. One New Zealand pilot
who was above the battlefield that day with an army observer has
recorded this impression of the combined ground and air assault:
‘We watched from the air,’ he says, ‘and saw a dense mass of dust arising
from the heart of the defensive positions across the Senio. Stretching right
back to the coast was a double line of white smoke flares, the final of the two
just on our side of the river being orange, with Lugo a mile or so beyond.
As we cruised beneath the bomber stream, we suddenly saw a carpet of dust
almost below us and hastily steered clear. That evening we again watched
the terrific offensive from the air. Flame–throwers of the Eighth Indian and
Second New Zealand Divisions, leaning against the Senio stop–banks,
poured a grim barrage of flame at the hapless enemy in dugouts. All along
the line, little flashes of flame flickered through the evening haze. The mighty
roar of the barrage ceased abruptly at regular intervals for just four minutes
when fighters swept in to strafe the German positions and dive–bombers
hurled bombs at their vital points. It was awe inspiring enough to watch;
no wonder many of the wretched prisoners captured next day were in a
stupefied daze.’
That night RAF Liberators continued the air attack and bombed
strongpoints barely a mile in front of the Eighth Army, their targets
being marked by shells emitting red smoke. On the following day
Lugo was taken and within a week, during which air support ceased
neither by day nor night, Argenta had been overrun and the Eighth
Army was moving on through the Gap to Ferrara. Meanwhile the
Fifth Army had opened its attack in the central sector on 14 April,
heralded, as on the eastern flank, by an intense aerial offensive. The
troops soon fought their way through the mountains and then closed
in on Bologna from the south–west just as units of the Eighth Army
came in from the east.
The enemy, realising that disaster was upon him, now began to
withdraw northwards across the Po. Our medium, light and fighter–
bombers immediately threw almost their entire effort both by day and
by night against the river crossings. And since the permanent bridges
had already been destroyed some months previously, they were able to
concentrate on the congested ferry sites and pontoon bridges. The
destruction they caused was enormous. Behind the retreating Germans
the railway at the Brenner Pass was a shambles, as were all the other
rail lines which they might have wanted to use. Thus thousands of
enemy troops were soon trapped or immobilised by the Fifth and
Eighth Armies. Pursued by Allied armour and harried by the air
forces, they had been obliged to abandon what remained of their
equipment and transport. By the end of April there remained only
four German divisions which bore any semblance to fighting formations.
The end came quickly. On the right the Eighth Army raced up the
plain, captured Padua, Venice and Treviso, and heading for Trieste,
established contact with the Yugoslav forces under Marshal Tito. In
the centre the Fifth Army made for Verona and the Brenner and linked
up with an American army from Bavaria. On the left it reached Turin
and from Genoa it made contact with French troops which had moved
along the Riviera. But before the last of these events occurred, the
struggle was really over. German emissaries had come to Alexander's
headquarters with proposals for surrender, and after brief negotiations
the whole of the German forces in Italy laid down their arms in unconditional surrender on 2 May 1945.
Such were the operations in which New Zealanders played their part
with the RAF during the final stages of the Italian campaign. They had
shared in, and often led, every type of air operation from fighter–bomber
attacks on the actual battlefield to the long–range missions across the
Alps by the heavy bombers; they had flown Spitfires on fighter patrol
and attack, Mustangs on armed reconnaissance, Bostons to bomb
enemy communications, Mosquitos on photographic sorties, Dakotas
on transport and supply missions, and their contribution had been
made with characteristic spirit and dash. Typical of that spirit was the
action of one young fighter pilot, Flying Officer A. G. P. Newman
of No. 145 Squadron. On a reconnaissance of the Po valley, he sighted
some fifteen barges and at once dived to attack. His bombs fell short
but, determined not to be frustrated, he went down again to strafe
the barges with cannon and machine–gun fire, flying repeatedly up
and down the river. He was then seen to turn and begin strafing a
building on the river bank, and as he swept over it at very low level
the target blew up. Unhappily Newman's aircraft was damaged by
the blast and as he headed for base his engine caught fire. A few
moments later the Spitfire hit the ground and exploded.
Flying and fighting with their squadrons, New Zealanders continued
in action till the end. Fighter pilots, for example, shared in the low–
level attacks which led to the collapse of enemy resistance in the
Bologna area and bomber crews took part in the assault on enemy
strongpoints at Bastia. And it is interesting to record that on 26 April
1945, when the RAF bombers based in Italy made their last major raid,
New Zealanders, including two captains of aircraft—Flight Lieutenant
K. B. Smith
Flight Lieutenant K. B. Smith; born Manurewa, 13 May 1923; apprentice engineer;
joined RNZAF31 Oct 1942.
of No. 70 Squadron and Pilot Officer Struthers
Flight Lieutenant A. B. Struthers; born Dalmuir, Scotland, 10 Aug 1921; commercial
traveller; joined RNZAF27 Mar 1942; killed in aircraft accident 17 Nov 1952 whilst
serving with RAF.
of
No. 178 Squadron—were among those who flew with the Liberators.
Their objective was the railway marshalling yards at Freilassing; with
the target well marked by pathfinders, large explosions and many fires
were started; some 300 waggons were destroyed, buildings burnt out
and all lines blocked. The flight out and back was made in bright
moonlight with the Alps gleaming white below, and the target itself
was only a few miles from Hitler's famous ‘Redoubt’ at Berchtesgaden,
which had been attacked that same day by Bomber Command. It was
a fitting final sortie.
In the achievement of final victory in Italy the share of the air forces
was undoubtedly great. Their disruption of rail and road communications had brought about the almost complete immobilisation of the
enemy land forces and their relentless activity over the battle area
assisted the advance of our armies at every stage. Had the enemy commanders enjoyed freedom of movement and safe and secure communications, with all that these imply, they must have held at bay and
perhaps defeated armies many times larger than those commanded by
Alexander. As it was, they had to contend with a steadily mounting
offensive over and behind their lines which their own air forces were
powerless to prevent or even hinder. General von Vietinghoff afterwards paid tribute to the work of the Allied fighter bombers. ‘They
hindered essential movement,’ he said, ‘even tanks could not be moved
by day. Their very presence over the battlefield paralysed movement.’
And he left little doubt about the effect of the air attacks at the opening
of the final battle. ‘The smashing of communications was specially
disastrous. Thereafter orders failed to come through at all or failed to
come through at the right time. In any case the command was not
able to keep itself informed of the situation at the front, so that its
own decisions and orders came, for the most part, too late.’ Similar
testimony regarding the work of the Allied bombers came from General
von Senger, a corps commander in the German Fourteenth Army. ‘The
Allied air attacks on the frontier route of Italy made the fuel and
ammunition situation very critical …. Night bombing was very
effective and caused heavy losses.’ He also declared that ‘It was the
bombing of the river Po crossings that finished us. We could have
withdrawn successfully with normal rearguard action despite the heavy
pressure but owing to the destruction of the ferries and river crossings,
we lost all our equipment. North of the river we were no longer an
army.’
PART II
SOUTH-EAST ASIA
CHAPTER 11Malaya, Sumatra, and Java
JAPAN'S invasion of Malaya was not wholly unexpected for it had
long been evident that she was determined to establish herself as the
controlling power in South-east Asia and only awaited the opportunity
to fulfil this ambition. But the blow which fell in December 1941 was
swift and sudden and it achieved astonishing success. Within seventy
days the whole of the Malay peninsula, Britain's richest tropical possession, the world's chief source of rubber and one of its best sources of
tin, was completely in enemy hands. Two powerful British warships—
Prince of Wales and Repulse—sent out at the last minute to strengthen
our Far East defences, were both at the bottom of the sea, torpedoed
and bombed by Japanese aircraft. Singapore and its great naval base,
previously described as ‘an impregnable fortress’ and ‘the Gibraltar of
the Far East’, had fallen after a brief siege. And seventy thousand weary
and exhausted defenders had passed into a captivity so rigorous and
brutal as to bring about the death of more than half of them.
This disaster, as great as any suffered by British arms, has been
ascribed to a combination of circumstances. There was the climate and
the apathy of the local population towards the defence of the territory.
Our troops, although superior in numbers to the enemy, were untrained in jungle warfare and they became worn out and dispirited by
their continual and long retreat. The efficiency of the Japanese in air
warfare was greatly underestimated and the sinking of the British warships, coupled with the crippling of the American Pacific Fleet at Pearl
Harbour, gave the enemy almost complete freedom of movement in
the neighbouring seas.
Early in the morning of 7 December 1941, waves of Japanese aircraft flown from carriers
had appeared over the Hawaiian island of Oahu, where the American Pacific Fleet lay in
Pearl Harbour. It was a complete surprise. Ships, airfields, troops, all alike were caught
off their guard. Within a matter of minutes virtually the whole fleet was out of action,
sunk or incapacitated for a considerable period.
Certainly these were all contributing factors
but behind them is the fact that the preparations and plans made by
Britain, Australia and New Zealand in the pre-war years were unequal
to the situation which developed in 1941.
For twenty years these plans and preparations had been based on
sea power and they were mainly concerned with the defence of Britain's
naval base at Singapore, built at a cost of £65,000,000. Through those
years the general opinion was that this would be the first objective of
the enemy and that it would be attacked by warships supported by
carrier-borne aircraft. The possibility that an assault might be made
from another direction seems to have been largely discounted and as
late as the autumn of 1939 attention was still concentrated on Singapore.
There powerful batteries of fixed guns were in position to defend the
naval base, with arcs of fire covering a wide area of sea to the south of
the island, but these batteries had no forts or fixed defences to protect
their rear, a fact which Winston Churchill later described as ‘one of
the greatest scandals that could possibly be exposed.’ Supplementing
the guns there were four bomber squadrons, of which two were
torpedo-bombers, and there were also two flying-boat squadrons. Their
presence, however, was regarded as of secondary importance and the
defensive plan remained essentially a naval one. British warships based
on Singapore would control the sea approaches to Malaya and deal
with any enemy forces in the vicinity.
See Churchill, Second World War, Vol. IV, Appendix D, Memorandum on Singapore
Defences.
This situation endured during the opening months of the Second
World War until the collapse of France and the occupation of French
Indo-China by the Japanese brought about a rude awakening. But now
when Malaya was more closely threatened, Britain could not spare
warships for the Far East owing to the delicate balance of naval strength
in European waters. It was therefore decided that the defence of Malaya
must depend primarily upon air power, backed by such land forces as
could be made available. This was at the end of July 1940, at which
time there were precisely eighty-four operational aircraft in the whole of Malaya
and not one of them was a modern fighter.
Author's italics.
Plans were concerted between
Britain, Australia and New Zealand for substantial reinforcements of
machines, equipment and trained pilots to be sent to the Far East but,
in the circumstances of 1940, such things could not be provided in a
matter of weeks, or even months, for by this time the Middle East and
Britain herself were in grave danger. The result was that, when the
Japanese launched their attack, these plans were nothing like fulfilled.
For example, instead of 582 first-line aircraft which had been considered
necessary to meet the changed situation, there were only 158 and many
of these were obsolete. Reserves actually held were only 88 machines
instead of the 157 authorised. Indeed, at no time during the brief campaign were the British Commonwealth squadrons charged with the
defence of Malaya capable of dealing adequately with those opposed to
them or with the naval and military forces of the invader. They had
neither the modern aircraft nor the necessary facilities with which to
perform these tasks.
This weakness of our air forces, due largely to their neglect in the
years of peace, was probably the main reason why the Japanese were
able to achieve such a rapid and overwhelming victory. But it was
accentuated by a lack of preparedness in other directions which it is
impossible to discuss here. The whole sad tale, however, now lies
unfolded in the pages of the official British history—The War Against
Japan, Volume I—and its concluding chapter, in particular, deserves
careful study by all who seek to understand and to avoid a repetition
of the melancholy events here related.
To support their invasion of Malaya the Japanese had a force of
300 land-based aircraft deployed in Indo-China in addition to those
which were carrier-borne. They included the twin-engined Army
types ‘97’ and ‘99’ for bombing and reconnaissance and the Navy
type ‘96’ for use as a torpedo-bomber. Their principal fighter aircraft
were the Army types ‘I’ and ‘97’ and the Navy type ‘O’. The latter,
better known as the ‘Zero’, proved one of the greatest surprises of
the campaign. Fast, well-armed and extremely manoeuvreable, it was
more than a match for our fighters, whose pilots, unaware of its high
performance, suffered many casualties through adopting the wrong
tactics against it.
Reasons why nothing was known about the Zero are thus recorded in the RAF Official
History: ‘The Japanese had made use of the Navy Zero against the Chinese in the spring
of 1940. Some details of its performance had been divulged by American newspaper
correspondents stationed in Chungking who had seen it in action at that time, and in
the same year more details had reached the Air Ministry from other sources in that city.
On 2 September 1941, this information was duly forwarded to the Far Eastern Combined
Bureau for transmission to Air Headquarters. It never arrived there. Moreover, in addition to the information on this fighter provided by Air Ministry a detailed description
of it, written in Chinese, reached Singapore in July and was duly translated. What
happened next is a matter for conjecture since all records have been destroyed; but it
seems probable that this very important report formed part of the mass of accumulated
files with which the makeshift Intelligence Section, set up at Air Headquarters in October
1941, attempted to deal. When war broke out they had by no means completed their
task and the report remained undiscovered.’
The Japanese squadrons were trained for certain
definite roles. That of the Army Air Force units was to strike hard in
close support of the armies in the field while the Naval Air Forces
had the duty of attacking shipping, bombing suitable targets on shore
and covering their own warships. The enemy pilots, many of them with
long experience in the Chinese war, were skilful and resolute men.
They gave eloquent proof of these qualities on the second day of the
campaign when they flew through fierce anti-aircraft fire to sink the
Prince of Wales and Repulse, a task which they accomplished with the
probable loss of only four aircraft.
Opposing this formidable Japanese force we had a fighter defence
of four squadrons—No. 243 RAF, Nos. 21 and 453 Australian and
No. 488 New Zealand—all equipped with Brewster Buffalos. This
aircraft, according to contemporary opinion, had a disappointing
performance. ‘It did not stand up well to sustained climbing at full
throttle and frequently suffered from loss of power due to a drop in
oil pressure and overheating. Both its speed and rate of climb were
inferior to that of the Japanese Zero. Its fighting efficiency was further
diminished by its radio instruments which were obsolete and unreliable.’ Our bombing and reconnaissance force consisted of four
squadrons of RAF Blenheims and two of RAAF Hudsons; there were
also three Catalina flying-boats based at Seletar near Singapore. For
torpedo bombing there were two squadrons of Vildebeestes—
machines which, with their light armament and top speed of about
100 miles an hour, were scarcely suitable for attacking modern warships with heavy anti-aircraft defensive armament.
Facilities for the repair and maintenance of these machines were
sadly lacking. Such as did exist were concentrated in the workshops
at Seletar on Singapore Island. These workshops, although equipped
only to deal with the requirements of two squadrons at the most,
were called upon to service the whole air force in Malaya; the magnitude of their task may be gauged from the fact that twenty-seven
modifications had to be made in the Brewster Buffalo fighter before
it could be used in battle. Of two other maintenance units that were
authorised, one never passed beyond the embryo stage while the
other, though possessed of personnel, was lacking in equipment.
Our squadrons were seriously short of trained and experienced
pilots. Many of those serving in Malaya had come straight from
flying training schools in Australia and New Zealand, where most of
them had never flown anything more modern than a Hart and had no
experience of retractable undercarriages, variable pitch propellers or
flaps. Furthermore, when the Japanese attacked, the Buffalo fighter
squadrons had only been formed a few months and half of them had
not reached full operational efficiency.
The situation as regards airfields was also far from satisfactory
although great efforts had been made to improve matters in the year
before war came. Of the airfields that had been built, fifteen possessed
no concrete runways but were surfaced with grass, a serious matter in
a country where tropical rains are frequent and severe. Several, such
as that at Alor Star, were out-of-date, with congested buildings close
to the runways and few facilities for dispersal. Very few were camouflaged. Ground defences were inadequate or non-existent.
It had been laid down that each airfield was to have eight heavy and eight light anti-aircraft guns but the best-defended airfield was Seletar, which had eight Bofors. Those
in central and southern Malaya and a number in the northern districts had no anti-aircraft
defences at all.
Because
of the rugged and difficult nature of the territory in Malaya many
airfields had to be built on the exposed east coast, and several were
sited in places where their defence proved well-nigh impossible. For
example, the landing grounds at Kuantan and Kota Bharu had been
built next to long and excellent sea beaches, a fact of which the Japanese
were to take full advantage.
Another serious feature, especially for the fighter defence, was the
lack of radar units to detect the approach of hostile aircraft and ships.
On the east coast of Malaya, where the first landings took place, only
two were operational, the remaining five still being under construction.
On the west coast one had been completed and two others were
approaching completion. Only on Singapore Island itself were there
three posts all in working order. At some stations there was no more
effective warning system than that provided by an aircraftsman standing
on the perimeter and waving a white handkerchief on the approach
of hostile aircraft. These were some of the handicaps under which our
pilots and crews went into action against the Japanese invaders.
* * * * *
On the morning of 6 December 1941 the great, humid, prosperous
city of Singapore went about its business as usual. The streets were
thronged with people, the markets bustled with activity and the wharves
and docks were busy with the loading and unloading of ships. There
was no indication as to how rudely this peaceful scene was soon to be
disturbed, yet that same morning the Japanese invasion fleet was already
moving southwards. First news of its approach came from a Hudson
aircraft on routine reconnaissance over the approaches to the Gulf of
Thailand which reported two convoys steaming westwards off Cape
Cambodia. More aircraft were sent out but low cloud and rain prevented them from finding the ships and a Catalina flying-boat sent to
continue the search failed to return—actually it was shot down by
Japanese warships. For the next twenty-four hours the whole situation
was shrouded in uncertainty, but in the early hours of the 8th the roar
of guns off the coast at Kota Bharu and the sound of exploding bombs
in the streets of Singapore itself left no doubt as to Japanese intentions.
The invasion of Malaya had begun.
At the outset, the enemy was able to achieve tactical surprise. For
the main Japanese landings were made, not in Malaya, but across the
border in Siam (Thailand), where for political reasons and in the general
uncertainty they were unmolested by our bombers.
The C-in-C, Malaya, had previously been directed most firmly to do everything possible to
avoid war and also to avoid any incident that might harm our cause in the United States.
Airfields and bases
in Thailand were thus taken intact and without a fight. Then, before
our bombers could be switched to what should have been their main
objectives at Singora and Patani, our own airfields in northern Malaya
were subjected to heavy and continuous attacks. The bombs used were
mainly fragmentation and anti-personnel and they did serious damage
to aircraft and men but little to the surface of the airfields, for the
Japanese were obviously anxious to capture these in good condition.
Raids often took place when our squadrons were either landing or
taking off and it was soon discovered that information of aircraft movements was reaching the enemy. By the evening of 8 December,
On the morning of 8 December the strength and dispositions of squadrons in Malaya
were:
On Singapore Island there were also three Catalinas manned by Dutch crews.
out
of 110 British aircraft available in the morning for combat in northern
Malaya, only fifty remained in a serviceable condition.
Counter-attacks were launched the next day. The first, carried out in
the afternoon, was markedly successful and the congested airfield at
Singora was repeatedly hit. But as our squadrons were about to take
off for a second assault Japanese bombers came over and, after dropping
their bombs, followed up with low-level machine-gun attacks on the
airfield. All the aircraft were put out of action except for one single
Blenheim. Its pilot, Squadron Leader Scarf,
Squadron Leader A. S. K. Scarf, VC; born Wimbledon, London, 14 Jun 1913; joined
RAF1936; died of wounds sustained on air operations, 9 Dec 1941.
a Londoner, despite the
fact that he was alone, flew on towards his objective. Over Singora he
was attacked by enemy fighters but dropped his bombs and turned for
home. He had been hit in the back and left arm and mortally wounded,
but, still conscious, he maintained a running fight until the Malay
border was reached, then landed successfully in a paddy field near Alor
Star. His navigator was unhurt but he himself died that night. He was
posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross.
Against the first enemy landings in Malaya itself—at Kota Bharu—
our bombers were able to achieve some success. During the night of
8 December they sank one transport and severely damaged two others.
Landing barges were also attacked and the estimated casualties among
the Japanese were 3000. It is recorded that during this phase an unknown Blenheim pilot was seen to dive his burning aircraft into an
enemy landing craft, destroying it and its occupants. But the success
at Kota Bharu was only temporary. The airfield had to be abandoned
the next day after a fight in which the ground staff, along with elements
of 11 Indian Division, gave a good account of themselves. Eleven
aircraft got away south.
Well aware of our weakness in the air, the Japanese continued to
strike hard and often against our airfields and it was not long before
all the bases in north-east and north-west Malaya were rendered untenable. What aircraft were left had to be withdrawn southwards.
Throughout this period the difficulties of all units were increased by
the fact that the native labourers usually fled the airfields as soon as
bombing began and did not return. Nevertheless many fine individual
efforts were made to bring back stores and equipment. The demolition
of buildings and runways was also attempted but this did not retard by
more than a few hours the use of the airfields by the enemy. Moreover,
such demolitions inevitably had a depressing effect on the spirits of the
soldiers who, holding positions in front of them, had but to turn their
heads to see large fires and columns of smoke in their rear.
Within the first few days the Japanese thus obtained virtual control
in the air over northern Malaya. Their troops had already thrust from
Singora towards Alor Star, and they now began advancing down both
coasts with infiltrating groups moving forward through the jungle. Our
own ground forces were compelled to give ground and fight a series of
rearguard actions. Two squadrons of Buffalo fighters sent north to Ipoh
to give them some support went straight into action, attacked Japanese
convoys on the roads, reconnoitred to good effect and claimed some
success in air combat. But enemy bombing soon forced these squadrons
back to Kuala Lumpur. Here they again came under attack and by 22
December possessed only four serviceable aircraft between them. Thereafter our troops had to meet the full force of the Japanese onslaught
with negligible close support from the air.
Our few remaining fighters were meanwhile active in defence of
Singapore and of shipping in its vicinity; Hudsons continued with
coastal reconnaissance and the remnants of the bomber force attacked
enemy airfields, bases and troop movements in northern Malaya and
Thailand. These latter missions entailed long flights by night and
often through violent tropical thunderstorms. Damage and casualties
were certainly inflicted on the enemy, but it is equally certain that he
had more than sufficient reserves to replace his losses without delay.
Reinforcements of troops and aircraft began to reach Singapore by
sea at the beginning of January and the convoys were safely escorted
through the dangerous approaches by relays of aircraft, a task which
absorbed a good deal of the available air effort. However, before these
reinforcements could intervene in the fighting the situation farther north
seriously deteriorated. Taking full advantage of their command of the
sea the Japanese had begun to make landings behind our positions,
and such action, combined with heavy frontal attacks, forced our
troops to make further withdrawals. Both fighters and bombers did
what they could to help the hard-pressed Army, but the few hundred
sorties that were flown, although they inflicted some damage, did not
seriously upset enemy plans. Bomber crews made a last gallant effort
at Endau on 26 January when reconnaissance reported two cruisers,
eleven destroyers, two transports and many small craft approaching
the coast. All the aircraft that could be mustered for a strike went out
against them in two attacks. The convoys were well protected by
fighters and our losses, especially of the slow and out-dated Vildebeestes, were heavy. But the attacks were pressed home. Both transports
were hit and thirteen enemy aircraft were claimed destroyed.
By this time the Japanese had extended their air attacks to the island
of Singapore, directing them mainly against its four airfields. Daylight
raids, first by bombers alone and later by bombers escorted by fighters,
took place with increasing intensity, and as the days passed the continual pounding of the airfields made it difficult to keep their surfaces
usable. Heavy rainfall seriously handicapped repair work and, to
complicate matters further, practically all native labour disappeared.
Our depleted fighter squadrons did their utmost to ward off the enemy's
attacks. Hurricanes which had arrived in crates were assembled with
all speed, but it was 20 January before they first took to the air. For a
few days these modern fighters did much damage but before long
Japanese superiority in numbers began to take its toll. Our fighter
pilots fought on gallantly under growing pressure but it was soon
obvious that their resistance could not long be sustained.
By the end of January our ground forces had withdrawn to Singapore,
and of the four airfields on the island three were being shelled and all
four continually bombed. The remnants of the bomber force had
already been sent to operate from Sumatra along with what remained
of the reconnaissance squadrons; only a few fighters were kept—eight
Hurricanes and the last six Buffalos. Taking off without any adequate
ground control, they did what they could to help our troops, to
intercept enemy bombers and to protect shipping leaving the port.
That they were able to operate at all was due to the incredible efforts
of the servicing staffs and the men who went out after every raid and
repaired the runways. It is recorded that as late as 9 February our pilots
were able to claim six Japanese bombers destroyed and a further
fourteen damaged. But this was their final gallant gesture of defiance
and on the following day, with their last base out of action, they had
to be withdrawn. Singapore fell on 15 February.
For a few more bitter days our squadrons carried on the fight from
the islands of the Dutch East Indies. Reinforced by some Hurricanes
flown off HMS Indomitable, they gave a good account of themselves,
notably in the battle of the Palembang River, before their bases and
airfields were again overrun by the invading Japanese. Thereupon
some men managed to escape by sea to Australia, suffering all manner
of torments in small ships and open boats that were mercilessly bombed
and machine-gunned by enemy aircraft. But the large majority were
taken prisoner and for four long years they had to endure the misery,
privations, and often the cruelty of Japanese prison camps. By the
time due retribution had fallen from the skies above Hiroshima upon
the sons of Nippon hundreds had succumbed to their treatment, and
among the survivors there were many sick and broken men.
* * * * *
In this first brief campaign in South-east Asia over 400 New
Zealanders took part. They were especially prominent in the small
fighter force where No. 488 Squadron personnel, both pilots and
ground staff, were almost entirely from the Dominion, along with a
majority of the pilots in No. 243 Squadron. There was also a substantial
representation of pilots, observers, wireless operators and gunners in
the bomber and reconnaissance units and among the crews of the
flying-boats. In addition New Zealand engineers, mechanics and
armourers shared in the work of servicing, maintenance and repair of
aircraft, and there were others engaged in signals, radar, equipment,
medical and administrative work. Last, but not least, a New Zealand
airfield construction squadron did particularly good work both before
and during the fighting in Malaya.
Fighter pilots of No. 243 Squadron were among the first to see
action against the Japanese. Their squadron, formed six months
before the war came, was based at Kallang, near Singapore, where its
main task was to defend that city. A small detachment, however, had
been sent north to Kota Bharu. Here on the first day of the Japanese
landings the Buffalos strafed enemy barges on the Kelantan River.
On patrol later the same day Pilot Officer Shield
Pilot Officer R. S. Shield; born Napier, 29 Sep 1918; farmhand; joined RNZAF30 Nov
1940; killed on operations, 5 Jan 1942.
made contact with
enemy bombers but was robbed of the chance of a decisive encounter.
His combat report illustrates the difficulties with which pilots flying
the obsolete Buffalos had to contend:
While at 9,000 feet in pursuit of nine enemy bombers, I observed a bomb
burst approximately three miles ahead …. Turning sharply to port I saw a
Japanese aircraft about 2,000 feet below. I overhauled the enemy but as my
windshield was covered with oil I was able to get only occasional glimpses
of him. At 350 yards, as near as I could judge in the circumstances, I opened
fire. After one burst three of my guns stopped; the remaining gun stopped
after two further short bursts. I was unable to see whether the enemy returned my fire …. Breaking away downwards I returned to base while the
enemy aircraft continued on its course to the north-east, presumably to
Saigon. The combat was broken off ten miles out to sea.
Also serving with the flight at Kota Bharu was Sergeant Wareham,
Flight Lieutenant C. B. Wareham, DFM; born Kaikoura, 4 Mar 1916; farmer; joined
RNZAF1 Sep 1940.
who now began a career as photographic reconnaissance pilot which
was carried on with distinction throughout the later campaign in
Burma. In Malaya the PR flight of Buffalos flew over one hundred
sorties, most of which ranged as far north as Singora, the airfield in
Thailand from which the Japanese launched their early air attacks.
Throughout their operations these aircraft carried no armour or guns
and when intercepted pilots relied solely on evasive action to get
through.
Back in Singapore pilots of No. 243 Squadron flew defensive patrols
over the island and over shipping in the approaches. As daylight raids
on the city developed there were frequent ‘scrambles’ and it was during
one of these that Sergeant Kronk
Sergeant C. T. Kronk; born Kohuratahi, Taranaki, 28 Jul 1918; joined RNZAF18 Jan
1941; clerk; killed in aircraft accident, 28 May 1942.
and Sergeant Wipiti,
Warrant Officer B. S. Wipiti, DFM; born New Plymouth, 16 Jan 1922; refrigerator
serviceman; joined RNZAF18 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Oct 1943.
a Maori
pilot, shared in the destruction of the first Japanese aircraft over
Singapore. Thereafter, as enemy activity over the southern area
steadily increased, pilots were often in action and, despite the absence
of an adequate warning system and the inferior performance of their
fighter aircraft, they achieved a certain measure of hard-earned success.
No details of the squadron's operations during this phase are available
but its Commanding Officer reports that Pilot Officers Marra
Flight Lieutenant T. B. Marra; born Stratford, 17 Aug 1916; service station proprietor;
joined RNZAF29 Sep 1940.
and
Pevreal
Squadron Leader E. A. Pevreal; born Morrinsville, 18 May 1920; postal clerk; joined
RNZAF9 Apr 1940; commanded No. 17 Sqdn, SE Asia, 1944.
and Sergeant Kronk were prominent in the air fighting.
Marra, he says, shot down three enemy aircraft and after one sortie
skilfully brought his fighter back although the controls were severely
damaged. Pevreal and Kronk each destroyed two enemy machines
and damaged others. Another young pilot, Pilot Officer Bonham,
Flight Lieutenant G. L. Bonham, DFC; born Dunedin, 24 Mar 1921; P & T employee;
joined RNZAFJul 1940; killed on air operations, 25 Sep 1944.
showed great fortitude after he had been seriously injured during a
dogfight over Singapore, when he flew back and landed successfully
before collapsing at the controls. ‘In the cold light of the aftermath of
a lost campaign’ adds the Squadron Leader, ‘the efforts of the men
involved may appear small but the Squadron was called upon to do all
manner of work including day and night fighting, bomber escort,
convoy work, reconnaissance and front line patrols. The enemy was
far superior in numbers and it was an uphill fight all the time. The
majority of pilots lost were New Zealanders who had only left their
training schools in New Zealand four months before and without the
advantage of an O.T.U. training; they went into the battle with a
cheerfulness and spirit of which their families and New Zealand can
be justly proud.’
No. 488 Fighter Squadron shared with No. 243 in the defence of
Singapore. The unit had been formed in New Zealand during September 1941, barely three months before the Japanese attack; it
comprised 155 officers and airmen. The Commanding Officer,
Squadron Leader Clouston,
Wing Commander W. G. Clouston, DFC; born Auckland, 15 Jan 1916; clerk; joined
RAF1936; commanded No. 258 Sqdn, 1940–41; No. 488 (NZ) Sqdn, 1941–42; prisoner
of war (Singapore) Feb 1942.
and the two flight commanders, Flight
Lieutenants Mackenzie
Squadron Leader J. N. Mackenzie, DFC; born Goodwood, 11 Aug 1914; farmer;
joined RAF6 Dec 1937; transferred RNZAFJan 1944; commanded No. 488 (NZ)
Sqdn, Singapore, 1942; No. 64 (RAF) Sqdn, 1944.
and Hutcheson,
Squadron Leader J. R. Hutcheson, DFC; born Wellington, 18 Mar 1912; salesman;
joined RNZAFOct 1939.
were New Zealanders already
serving in Royal Air Force Fighter Command and they came out from
England to meet the squadron at Singapore.
It was November before the complete squadron arrived at Kallang
airfield. An intensive training programme was thereupon commenced
with the pilots, who had no experience of operational aircraft, doing
refresher flying on Wirraway aircraft—an Australian version of the
Harvard trainer—before converting to Buffalo fighters. Many difficulties were experienced. In particular the conversion to Buffalos was
delayed because the aircraft allotted were in a bad state of repair and
engines, airframes, instruments, guns and radio equipment had all to
be cleaned, checked and repaired; there was also a shortage of tools,
spare parts and accessories. However, largely through the initiative
of the squadron's equipment officer, Flying Officer Franks,
Squadron Leader C. W. Franks, MBE; born Leithfield, North Canterbury, 12 Jul
1912; civil servant; joined RNZAFNov 1939.
the
shortages were made up and after some very hard work the aircraft
were made serviceable. The weather at this time of the year was unhelpful and frequent heavy tropical thunderstorms, which reduced
visibility almost to nil, interrupted training and grounded the aircraft.
No. 488 was thus not fully operational when war came but the more
experienced pilots were at once employed on patrols over Singapore
and the sea approaches. On 10 December squadron aircraft were
among the fighter force sent to aid the Prince of Wales and Repulse on
receipt of a message that they were under attack from Japanese bombers.
When the first Buffalos from No. 488 Squadron reached the scene,
over 170 miles away, both ships had already been sunk; all the fighters
could do was to cover the ships that were picking up survivors and
escort them southwards. At Singapore during the first weeks there
were frequent night raids but not much enemy activity by day except
for reconnaissance. No. 488 took advantage of the respite to continue
its training and before the end of the month almost all the pilots had
been passed as fit for combat flying, although facilities for gunnery
training were scarce. On several days pilots had been ordered off the
ground in pairs to intercept Japanese reconnaissance aircraft, but the
enemy, flying high, always escaped before the slow-climbing Buffalos
could reach them.
The squadron made a major effort on 3 January to cover the first
convoy bringing reinforcements to Singapore. Five separate missions,
involving over sixty-four hours' flying, were flown. The weather was
bad all the time, with low cloud and intermittent rainstorms which
added to the difficulties of locating and escorting ships. Pilots had to
fly at 1000 feet or less to keep below the cloud, and this restricted their
vision and gave them very little height for manoeuvre. On the airfield
at Kallang the ground crews maintained their reputation for hard
work and efficiency, toiling all day checking the aircraft as they came
in, refuelling them and making them ready for the next patrol. Further
convoy patrols were flown during the next few days but there were no
incidents.
Kallang had its first raid on 9 January when the squadron's offices,
equipment store and the oil and ammunition stores were hit and almost
completely demolished. Three days later the New Zealanders had their
first serious encounter with the enemy. In the early morning eight
aircraft that were standing by at readiness were ordered to take off
and intercept a raid coming south. Led by Mackenzie they began
climbing over Johore, but had barely reached 12,000 feet when they
sighted the enemy force several thousand feet above them. It comprised
twenty-seven fighters. Realising that his small formation was heavily
outnumbered and at a serious disadvantage in height, Mackenzie at
once ordered the pilots to fly into the sun and take evasive action.
The enemy, however, had already spotted them and swept down to
the attack. Two Buffalos were shot down in the first few seconds but
their pilots, Sergeants Honan
Warrant Officer T. W. Honan; born New Plymouth, 30 Aug 1916; farmer; joined
RNZAFJul 1940.
and MacMillan,
Flight Lieutenant R. W. MacMillan; born Timaru, 2 Oct 1918; school teacher; joined
RNZAF1 Dec 1940.
both baled out and
landed safely fifteen miles from Johore. Five other machines were
damaged and three pilots wounded but all managed to return to base.
The next day's operations were equally severe, six aircraft being lost
or seriously damaged without loss to the enemy. There were several
narrow escapes. Sergeant Meaclem
Flying Officer V. E. Meaclem; born Ashburton, 10 Nov 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF9 Feb 1941.
got out uninjured when his
machine crashed in a swamp; Pilot Officer Oakden
Flight Lieutenant F. W. J. Oakden; born Dunedin, 29 Sep 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF9 Apr 1940; prisoner of war, 25 Mar 1942.
and Sergeant
Clow
Flight Lieutenant D. L. Clow, DFC; born Te Kuiti, 25 Sep 1921; warehouseman;
joined RNZAFFeb 1941.
both survived after being shot down into the sea—Oakden was
picked up by fishermen in a sampan and Clow swam 400 yards to a
small island, where he was found by some Chinese and returned to
Kallang two days later.
From now on the Japanese were over Singapore every day, but as
long as they had aircraft to fly the defending pilots went up to meet
them. The odds were heavy. On 15 January, when No. 488 ‘Readiness
Section’ took off to intercept a raid, it was attacked by a swarm of
Japanese fighters; Pilot Officer Hesketh,
Pilot Officer G. L. Hesketh; born Auckland, 24 Feb 1915; law clerk; joined RNZAF1 Sep 1940; killed on air operations, 15 Jan 1942.
who was leading, was shot
down and killed and most of the other pilots had their machines badly
damaged. Sergeant Kuhn,
Warrant Officer E. E. G. Kuhn, DFM; born Wellington, 14 Sep 1919; mechanician;
joined RNZAF9 Feb 1941; prisoner of war Mar 1942.
however, managed to get on the tail of a
Type 97 fighter and sent it crashing to the ground—the squadron's
first victory.
Three days later a patrol led by Hutcheson scored a major success
when, in a battle with nine Zeros, they shot down two and probably
destroyed three more without loss to themselves; Pilot Officer Sharp
Flying Officer N. C. Sharp, DFC; born Auckland, 9 Feb 1922; bank clerk; joined
RNZAF2 Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 1 Mar 1942.
and Sergeant Killick
Pilot Officer P. E. E. Killick; born Wellington, 12 Jun 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF9 Feb 1941.
both sent their opponents down in flames while
Hutcheson, along with Sergeants Meaclem and MacIntosh,
Warrant Officer W. J. N. MacIntosh; born Wyndham, 12 Jun 1915; driver; joined
RNZAFDec 1940; prisoner of war, 8 Mar 1942.
claimed
the probables. During a second patrol the same day, also led by
Hutcheson, Sergeant Kuhn sent another Zero into the sea but
Hutcheson and Pilot Officer Cox
Pilot Officer E. W. Cox; born Christchurch, 27 Nov 1919; clerk; joined RNZAF Feb
1941; killed on air operations, 18 Jan 1942.
were shot down; Hutcheson
crashed into jungle but was unhurt; Cox was killed.
Yet despite these valiant efforts by the defending fighters and their
ground staffs it was impossible to ward off the ever-increasing enemy
attacks. Kallang was heavily raided on 22 January just as four New
Zealand aircraft were about to take off. Three of them got away safely
amid a cloud of smoke and dust, but the fourth was destroyed by a
bomb and its pilot, Pilot Officer Farr,
Pilot Officer L. R. Farr; born Auckland, 22 Mar 1917; clerk; joined RNZAFMar 1941;
died as a result of wounds sustained on air operations, 25 Jan 1942.
was fatally wounded.
Very few of the squadron's original twenty Buffalos were now left.
The number available for operations varied from day to day between
one and four as the ground staff succeeded in making them serviceable.
Too few to operate effectively by themselves, they flew with what was
left of No. 243 Squadron. Even so, the combined formations were
pitifully weak in comparison with those of the enemy, but the pilots,
having gained their experience the hard way, were now fully seasoned
fighters and could give a better account of themselves.
On 23 January Clouston went to the Headquarters Operations
Room and the command of No. 488 Squadron passed to Mackenzie.
During the next few days the unit was re-equipped with nine Hurricanes from the shipment which had arrived early in the month.
Changing to a new type of aircraft in the midst of the fighting was
far from easy. The pilots had to learn to fly them and become
acquainted with their characteristics in between sorties, while the
ground staff had to familiarise themselves with new equipment, new
tools and new techniques. But the changeover was made and spirits
rose at the thought of what the pilots could do with these modern
fighters. They were, however, to have little chance of operating them.
On the morning of the 27th when all the fighters were on the ground
refuelling, Japanese bombers attacked the airfield: No. 488 lost two
Hurricanes destroyed, with six more damaged, and No. 243 Squadron
had most of its Buffalos destroyed or damaged. Two Blenheims on
the airfield were completely burnt out, three petrol tankers set on fire
and motor transport badly damaged. Forty minutes later a second
wave of bombers came over and their bombs destroyed two more
Buffalos and pitted the airfield with craters. Eight pilots sheltering in a
gun emplacement had a narrow escape; they were buried when a bomb
burst close by but were dragged out unhurt.
For the next few days everyone worked feverishly repairing the
least damaged aircraft and filling in bomb craters, so that by 30 January
a single strip had been cleared and three Hurricanes were able to take
the air. But by this time the whole situation at Singapore had seriously
deteriorated and the following evening No. 488 Squadron was ordered
to prepare to leave. Thereupon the aircraft that could be made
serviceable were flown out to Sumatra. Then it was decided that No.
488 ground staff should stay to keep the last few remaining fighters
flying. On 4 February, therefore, a party led by Pilot Officer Gifford
Flight Lieutenant P. D. Gifford; born Christchurch, 14 Apr 1915; school teacher;
joined RNZAFJan 1941.
and Flight Sergeant Rees
Squadron Leader J. Rees, BEM; born Thames, 28 Dec 1914; electrical engineer; joined
RNZAF20 Oct 1937.
went to Sembawang to service aircraft of
No. 232 Squadron. They arrived just as the Japanese started shelling
the airfield from across the Strait. They worked on machines that
night, and next morning the pilots took off under shellfire and flew
all the serviceable planes to Kallang; one was hit whilst taxi-ing out,
but the pilot immediately leapt out and jumped into another which he
flew off. Later in the day the same party went to Tengah and succeeded
in getting all the aircraft left there to Kallang.
Somehow Kallang continued to put planes into the air in spite of
frequent raids. On 8 February its defending fighters turned back three
waves of enemy bombers and the next day they totalled sixty-four
hours on interceptions and patrols. But that same night the Japanese
landed on Singapore Island, and two days later reports were received of
enemy parties infiltrating close to the station. The men were thereupon
issued with rifles and told to dig in among the rubber trees surrounding
the airfield, but these instructions were later cancelled and the squadron
was told it would be evacuated by sea that same afternoon. The men
retired to the docks and, with bombs falling all around them, went on
board the Empire Star. She sailed next morning for Batavia, but two
hours out from Singapore was attacked by waves of dive-bombers
which scored three direct hits. Men from No. 488 Squadron manned
Lewis guns and others blazed away with rifles, and as a result of their
fire one enemy plane was shot down and another was damaged. More
waves of bombers continued to come over until after midday, but
they scored no more hits and eventually the battered ship reached
Batavia.
No. 488's pilots and ground staff were reunited in mid-February at
Tjililitan, near Batavia, which base they now shared with No. 232
Squadron. Between them the two units could muster only a dozen
aircraft, but these were kept flying on patrols over Java. The maintenance of even these few machines amid the prevailing chaos and
disorganisation was an outstanding achievement, for no equipment
had been brought from Singapore and tools and spares were scarce.
But by hunting in the docks and warehouses of Batavia the equipment
staff found quantities of goods originally destined for Malaya and
were able to supply what was necessary to the servicing crews.
However, it was soon clear that the Japanese would very quickly
overrun the whole of the Dutch East Indies. There was indeed very
little to stop them, for our squadrons were depleted after weeks of
continuous operations, serviceability was low, equipment scarce
and the whole force disorganised. To avoid their inevitable capture,
those units which could not be profitably employed were therefore
withdrawn. No. 488 Squadron was among those instructed to leave
and on 23 February the men sailed for Australia aboard the Deucalion.
The men who flew bomber and reconnaissance aircraft—the Blenheims and Hudsons and the Vildebeeste torpedo-bombers—had a
most unenviable experience for their bases came under heavy enemy
air attack from the outset. Their squadrons were forced back and
compelled to operate under very difficult conditions, but they did their
best to keep up attacks against Japanese bases and airfields and against
their landing places on the Malayan coast. In his despatch the British
Army Commander, Lieutenant-General Percival, pays tribute to these
aircrews who ‘throughout the later stages of the Malayan campaign
went unflinchingly to almost certain death in obsolete aircraft which
should have been replaced several years before.’
There were twenty-five New Zealand pilots with Nos. 36 and 100
Vildebeeste Squadrons which carried out some very hazardous
operations during the campaign—notably that against Japanese
landings at Endau. Here, on 26 January 1942, twenty-one Vildebeestes
escorted by a small force of Buffalos and Hurricanes were sent to
attack enemy ships off the coast. Before they reached their target they
were intercepted by fighters, and those which got through met sharp
anti-aircraft fire from the ships. Eleven Vildebeestes were shot down,
together with four of their escort, the loss including the commanding
officers of both Nos. 36 and 100 Squadrons. Two New Zealanders,
Sergeants Tanner
Sergeant T. S. Tanner; born Wellington, 11 Aug 1918; civil engineer; joined RNZAF19 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 26 Jan 1942.
and Fleming,
Sergeant A. M. H. Fleming; born Wellington, 16 Jan 1912; farmer; joined RNZAFApr 1940; killed on air operations, 26 Jan 1942.
were among the pilots killed on
this raid. A third, Pilot Officer Barclay,
Flight Lieutenant R. C. Barclay, DFC; born Dunedin, 27 Feb 1916; salesman.
had his machine badly shot
up by enemy fighters and his gunner killed, but he flew through to
the target where he delivered an attack in the face of an intense anti-aircraft barrage. A few moments afterwards his aircraft was shot down
into the sea, but Barclay, together with his observer, managed to get
clear and swim ashore. They walked down the coast for two days,
then they fell in with the survivors from a sunken destroyer, with
whom they continued their journey and reached Singapore a week
later.
After their heavy losses at Endau Nos. 36 and 100 Squadrons were
withdrawn to Java, where they were amalgamated as No. 36 Squadron
and based at Tjikampek. They were soon in action again against one
of the Japanese convoys carrying invasion forces to Java. The ships
were sighted about 100 miles west of Sourabaya and most of the pilots
claimed hits on transport and barges; but three Vildebeestes, including
that flown by the squadron commander, failed to return.
The remaining crews continued to operate almost without respite
until, by 4 March, the squadron was reduced to only four serviceable
aircraft. Nevertheless they continued to fly two missions each night
against enemy landings until the morning of the 7th, when only two
patched up aircraft remained. Orders were given for these to be flown
north in an endeavour to reach Burma. They left that day, but both
crashed in Sumatra and the crews were either killed or captured. The
squadron thus literally fought to a finish. Of its New Zealand members,
six fell into enemy hands, but the remainder got away to Australia
before Java surrendered.
New Zealanders were also prominent with No. 62 Bomber Squadron,
which was at Alor Star when the Japanese invasion of Malaya began
and which suffered heavy losses in the first weeks. During December
eighteen Hudsons and crews, amongst whom were six New Zealanders,
were despatched from Britain to reinforce the squadron. This flight,
which was under the command of Squadron Leader Lilly,
Wing Commander L. G. W. Lilly; born Manchester, England, 1 Aug 1917; joined
RNZAF5 Apr 1938; transferred RAF15 Mar 1939; retransferred RNZAF16 Mar
1944; commanded No. 353 Sqdn, SE Asia, 1942–43.
arrived in
Singapore early in January and began operations immediately. However, with the enemy pressing southwards, the Hudsons were soon
moved to Sumatra, where they flew from a strip near Palembang known
as P2. For a while their missions were mainly sea reconnaissance, but
as the situation deteriorated the Hudsons were employed as a bombing
force. On 4 February Lilly led a successful raid on the enemy-held airfield at Kluang, on the mainland of Malaya, from which the Japanese
fighters were operating; for this raid the Hudsons had to fly to Sembawang on Singapore Island, and when they took off from there enemy
snipers were active around the perimeter and the area was under
artillery fire from the mainland.
When the Japanese invaded Sumatra, No. 62 Squadron attacked their
ships, on one occasion losing almost half the force despatched. Here is
an account of a sortie made by five squadron aircraft on the afternoon
of 13 February. It is provided by Flying Officer Henry,
Squadron Leader E. J. Henry; born Rangiora, 3 May 1917; motor mechanic; joined
RNZAFApr 1940.
who led the
formation that day.
Airborne at 4 p.m. we set course for Banka Island, and from there commenced a sweep over the estimated course that the convoy was steering.
Before long smoke was sighted on the horizon and the formation dived to
sea level, altering course to bring us in for a beam attack. There was no
cloud to speak of and visibility was good. The time was about 5.30 p.m.,
which left about half-an-hour until dusk, which was followed very quickly
by complete darkness.
When we were about five miles away the enemy ships opened up with
very accurate fire from heavy calibre guns. Their object appeared to be to
put up a barrage a short distance in front of us, hoping that we would be
caught in the ensuing spouts of water and explosions. Evasive action was
taken and course altered towards the head of the convoy in order to make
an attack from the east and obtain benefit from the failing light. The ack-ack was very accurate at this period, and although we were ‘right down on
the deck’ and doing about 145 knots, one salvo actually landed in the middle
of the formation, which fortunately at this moment was in a very broad
‘vic’. My turret gunner reported that the other aircraft completely disappeared in a cloud of spray, but they all came through untouched, although
one side gunner received a wetting. The formation then pulled up and
attacked in a shallow dive. Each aircraft singled out a ship, and I attacked
three transports which appeared to be hove to in the form of a triangle.
Other aircraft attacked the naval ships, consisting of three cruisers and three
destroyers. Very little flak came up, and hits were observed on one cruiser
and one destroyer, while the transports received near misses.
After delivering their attack, the aircraft broke formation and returned to
base independently. On reaching the coast, however, we ran into the usual
evening storm with heavy thunder, forked lightning, and a terrific downpour of rain. Radios became useless, beacons were non-existent, and the
visibility was nil. Under such conditions it says much for the navigators
that four aircraft got into Palembang aerodrome, while the fifth made P2,
all without mishap. At Palembang a searchlight in the form of several Aldis
lamps was put up as a guide, while the flarepath consisted of 44-gallon drums
of petrol, lit up and going full bore, fanned by a light breeze.
When the Japanese attacked Palembang the aircraft of No. 62 Squadron were withdrawn to Java, where they continued to operate until the
island was overrun by the Japanese.
Other New Zealanders served in Sumatra and Java at this time as
Hurricane fighter pilots with No. 605 Squadron, and in No. 232 Squadron which had been sent out from England by aircraft carrier to reinforce Singapore. Flight Lieutenants Julian
Squadron Leader I. Julian, DFC; born Wellington, 20 Oct 1917; salesman; joined
RNZAFJan 1940; prisoner of war, Mar 1942.
and Gartrell
Squadron Leader E. C. Gartrell, DFC; born Palmerston North, 9 Nov 1918; clerk;
joined RNZAFDec 1940; prisoner of war, Mar 1942.
were par
ticularly prominent in the last bitter actions. Julian led the final flight
to operate from Java, by which time he had destroyed at least four
enemy aircraft in the air and one on the ground, while Gartrell also
had four definite kills to his credit as well as several probables. Nos.
605 and 232 Squadrons fought on until the final surrender in Java,
when their gallant personnel passed into captivity.
* * * * *
The story of the New Zealand airfield construction unit is one of
hard work, devoted effort and dogged perseverance in the face of all
manner of difficulties and the final frustration of retreat. Formed at
Wellington in July 1941, this unit, the first of its kind in the air forces
of the British Commonwealth, included men from private construction
companies, the Public Works Department, and from those already en
listed in the Air Force. All were specially selected for their skill in
various trades, for their physical toughness and their ability to do
heavy work in tropical conditions. By mid-August an advanced party
of four officers and fifteen men, who formed the Survey Section, had
arrived at Singapore together with the Commanding Officer, Squadron
Leader Smart.
Squadron Leader E. C. Smart; born New Plymouth, 11 Jun 1903; aerodrome engineer;
joined RNZAF1 Apr 1940; commanded No. 1 Aerodrome Construction Unit.
Owing to shipping difficulties, however, it was another
ten weeks before the complete unit reached Malaya.
Its first base was at Tebrau in southern Johore. Here a camp had
been built by the Air Ministry Department of Works and the rows of
long, green-roofed huts set in the shade of rubber trees came as a
pleasant surprise to men who had expected rigorous living conditions
in the jungle. The living quarters were, in fact, very comfortable and
recreation facilities adequate; Singapore with its multiple attractions
was less than twenty miles away. The only complaint was about the
army field service rations, which compared rather unfavourably with
those enjoyed by RAF stations on Singapore Island.
The squadron's first task was the construction of a bomber airfield
at Tebrau. Two runways had already been marked out by the survey
section and the construction machinery assembled ready to begin
work, but as the whole area was covered by rubber plantations
hundreds of trees had first to be uprooted by bulldozers and cast aside.
Then came the rough levelling of the ground by ‘carry-alls’, enormous
scoops drawn by 18-ton tractors, which took the tops off the hillocks
and deposited the soil in the holes; next the graders took over,
smoothing out rough spots and evenly distributing the gravel put
down to surface the runways. Hundreds of coolies swarmed every
where with picks and shovels, putting the finishing touches to what
the machines had done. The north-east monsoon which had already
begun did not interfere seriously with the tree-felling, but the tractors
and ‘carry-alls’ working on the bare clay often became bogged to their
axles after the heavy rainstorms. However, whenever a fine spell of
weather occurred, work went on continuously far into the night to
make up for lost time.
Towards the end of November, when the Tebrau airfield was well
under way, a survey party led by Flight Lieutenant Begg
Squadron Leader A. G. Begg; born Dunedin, 8 Jul 1901; civil engineer; joined RNZAFJul 1941.
was sent to
Bekok, ninety miles to the north, to mark the site for a second bomber
airfield. But within a fortnight came the Japanese attack, and this
soon enforced a change of plans. For the loss of airfields in northern
Malaya during the first few days of the war made it necessary to
develop new ones in the south as quickly as possible, the most urgent
need being fighter strips to accommodate the reinforcements that were
expected. The development of Tebrau was therefore restricted to the
completion as soon as possible of a runway of 1200 yards, but in the
middle of December this work was suspended and the squadron split
up into several parties for work on other urgent jobs. A large detach
ment was sent to the new site at Bekok to make a fighter strip there;
another party was posted to Singapore Island to begin a strip at
Sungei Buloh, near the Causeway; smaller groups were sent to Seletar
and Tengah to help with the construction and repair work; the rest
of the squadron began building another fighter strip on the site of the
rifle range at the Johore military barracks.
Although its main task was building airfields, the squadron was
called upon to do many other jobs, whenever experience in handling
heavy equipment or machinery was needed. The salvage party formed
at the beginning of the war had been sent to northern Malaya to rescue
and repair equipment in the battle zone. For the next six weeks,
throughout the 500-mile retreat to Singapore, its members were
responsible for saving large quantities of equipment from under the
very noses of the Japanese. Operating much of the time only just
ahead of the British rearguard, they collected abandoned trucks, cars,
steam-rollers, graders, put native drivers into them and sent them
rolling down the road to Singapore. From bombed-out airfields they
also collected lorry loads of precious radio and other equipment and
sent them to join the southbound convoys.
Early in January the detachments at Seletar and Tengah were re
called to start work again on the Tebrau strip. Most of the Bekok
party also returned, but just when they had almost completed their job
they were ordered to leave it. Trees and other obstacles were dragged
across the runway; and a rear party began to lay mines in preparation
for later demolition. The survey group meanwhile went back to Singa
pore to mark out yet another fighter strip near Seletar.
By the middle of the month the Rifle Range strip was virtually
finished and it was being used by light aircraft of the Malayan Volunteer
Air Force. This strip was in fact the only one built by the squadron
in Malaya to be used operationally, and it was the last to be evacuated
when the British forces retired to Singapore Island.
On 15 January, with the Japanese at the northern border of Johore,
the Bekok camp was finally evacuated and the runway blown up next
day. Work at Tebrau was carried on while the fighting rolled nearer,
but soon came the order to evacuate the camp and prepare the runway
for demolition. The camp was stripped of equipment, stores and
moveable gear and on the morning of 27 January the squadron moved
out; it was the last Air Force unit to leave the mainland.
On Singapore Island the New Zealanders were quartered at the
Singapore Dairy Farm about a dozen miles from the city, and for the
next few days, despite frequent interruptions by enemy bombers,
work was continued on the two new strips at Sungei Buloh and Yio
Chu Kang, both of which were by then almost completed. There was
also constant demand for men and machinery to help repair bomb
damage on the main airfields, which were now under daily attack.
In addition, at the request of the Army, another detachment spent
several days building tank traps in the western part of the island.
By the end of January, however, it was clear that Singapore was no
longer the place for an airfield construction squadron. The airfields
already in existence were being steadily pounded and any new con
struction would share the same fate. Therefore, on the morning 1 Feb
ruary, the New Zealand squadron was ordered to embark on the
SS Talthybius. All loading had to be done by the New Zealanders them
selves but, despite frequent air raids, it proceeded well. Then, on the
morning of the 3rd, there were two heavy air raids in which the
Talthybius received direct hits; she was set on fire and also badly holed,
and of the working party caught on board one was killed and seven
more seriously injured. The fires were put out after a long struggle,
but within a few hours another bombing attack set the ship on fire
again and she sank.
For the next two days the New Zealanders waited at their camp for
new embarkation orders. It was anything but pleasant, for by this time
the Japanese were shelling the area and there were constant bombing
attacks on nearby targets in Singapore. Eventually, on 6 February, the
New Zealand squadron was told it would leave on a convoy sailing
that evening.
At the docks two parties were formed, one going on the SS City of
Canterbury and the other on the SS Darvel. Both ships moved out to
join their convoy but the Darvel was soon ordered back by the naval
authorities, partly because she had insufficient crew and partly because
her speed was too slow for the other ships which were going. The
convoy sailed that night for Java, and although the men in the City
of Canterbury had the discomfort of overcrowding and insufficient food,
and there were frequent air-raid alarms, the escorting warships warded
off enemy attacks and the ships reached Batavia safely on 9 February.
Meanwhile the Darvel had returned to port and the men aboard her
were taken to a transit camp. The following afternoon they again em
barked on the Darvel and, after several hours, during which there were
more air raids, she eventually put to sea. But barely had she cleared the
harbour when she was again recalled—bad weather was reported out
side and visibility had become too low to risk passage through the
minefields beyond the entrance. Once more the men returned to their
transit camp, but towards midday the Japanese artillery began shelling
the area and a few hours later, during a lull, the men scrambled into
their trucks and returned to the docks. This time they went straight
aboard the Darvel and she immediately headed for the open sea. Within
the hour there was a heavy bombing attack on the docks and the last
view the men had of Singapore was of blazing wharf sheds, columns
of smoke rising from burning oil tanks and a sky full of enemy planes
and bursting anti-aircraft shells.
The Darvel sailed through the night and at daybreak anchored off
the southern tip of a small island to avoid observation by enemy aircraft. The ship was still short-staffed and members of the squadron
took turns in the engine room and stokehold; others mounted and
manned light anti-aircraft guns and helped with the organisation for
the troops on board. The next stage of the voyage lay through Bangka
Strait, between Sumatra and Bangka Island, whose waters were constantly patrolled by Japanese bombers during daylight, but it was
hoped to pass through this danger area under cover of darkness. The
ship therefore got under way again at dusk, but just before entering
the strait she was delayed for two hours assisting another vessel that
had run ashore, and in consequence she was still in Bangka Strait when
the next day dawned. The Darvel thereupon anchored near a group of
small islands in the hope that the Japanese would not see her. Close
by was another small ship which had been bombed and abandoned
some days before.
The morning passed quietly, but just before midday a formation of
enemy bombers appeared. They came directly overhead and released
their bombs. For a minute all was confusion. There were no direct
hits but the explosions tossed the ship about like a cork, drenching her
with spray. Moreover, concussion and splinters from near misses
caused casualties and damage. Five minutes later the bombers returned,
but fortunately this time they concentrated their attack upon the aban
doned steamer a few hundred yards away; they sank her and, having
used up all their bombs, new away.
The Darvel, although spared a second bombing, was in a bad way.
Her hull was riddled with holes from bomb splinters and she was leak
ing badly; the steering gear was damaged and so were all the lifeboats;
fires had broken out and many of the troops on board were killed or
wounded. In the New Zealand unit one man was killed, seventeen
wounded and several more slightly injured. The captain now gave
orders to abandon ship but the state of the boats made this impossible.
The fires were quickly brought under control, and then working parties
from the squadron went below to block the scores of small holes. Others
set to work to repair the lifeboats and clear up the debris on the decks.
There was no doctor on board so medical orderlies cared for the
wounded. A naval officer took over command of the ship and, rather
than wait for another attack, decided to risk steaming through the rest
of the strait in daylight. The passage was accomplished, and with the
welcome onset of darkness course was set for Batavia where, leaking
badly and with all passengers and baggage crowded to one side, she
arrived the following day.
At Batavia the New Zealand squadron was reunited and moved to
a camp at Buitenzorg. There it remained for a week while Squadron
Leader Smart discussed future plans with Allied Air Headquarters. In
the prevailing confusion it was difficult to obtain any instructions. At
first it was thought that Java could still be defended and that the
squadron would be employed digging trenches and tank traps, but
with the Japanese invasion coming closer the situation was constantly
changing. Eventually it was decided that the New Zealand anit, having
lost all its equipment, should be evacuated, and accordingly, on 20
February, it left Batavia aboard the SS Marella. She got away without
incident, sailing in one of the last convoys to leave Java unharmed,
and reached the friendly shores of Australia a week later. It was a
fortunate escape.
CHAPTER 12
The Retreat from Burma
WITHIN a few weeks of their invasion of Malaya, the Japanese
swarmed into Burma. Ahead of them came their bombers,
making Rangoon, the capital city and main supply port, their primary
target. The first raid came during the morning of 23 December 1941
when a force of some eighty aircraft appeared over the city and prepared
to drop their bombs upon its crowded streets and docks. A score of
Allied fighters which had taken off from the dusty airfield at Mingaladon
a few minutes earlier were in the air to meet them. And as these fighters
circled overhead their ground control was somewhat surprised when
over the radio telephone there came, not the time–honoured ‘Tally–
Ho’, but the excited voice of a young New Zealand sergeant–pilot
crying: ‘Hell! Showers of them. Look, Willie, showers of them!’
This somewhat unconventional announcement signalled the beginning
of a lively engagement in which thirteen of the raiders were claimed
destroyed, along with several more probables. It also marked the
opening of the brief air campaign that was to provide the only bright
feature in the whole melancholy story of the British retreat from
Burma.
Burma had multiple attractions for the Japanese High Command.
These included the oil and rice of the Irrawaddy plains, the acquisition
of bases for a possible invasion of India and the occupation of territory
which would give protection to their already vast conquests in Thailand, French Indo-China and Malaya. But uppermost in their thoughts
at this moment was the need to stop the flow of supplies that were
reaching the Chinese by way of Burma. Because of the mountain
barriers and lack of communications with India, these supplies were
being unloaded at Rangoon and sent northwards over range after
range of steep mountains, along the few but well–built roads, along
the railway to Mandalay and beyond, up the tree–fringed Irrawaddy
to Lashio, from where the Burma Road stretched its narrow winding
length before the radiators of creaking and straining lorries. And since
Rangoon was the start of this last remaining supply line to China and
also the principal supply port of the Allied forces defending Burma,
the Japanese began by bombing and then attacking towards that city.
The defence available against this assault was far from strong. On
the ground there were some 25,000 combat troops, but most of these
were local recruits, only partly trained, and they were not well equipped
for jungle warfare. The main defensive position was that of the River
Salween, and to help the Army hold it, plans had been drawn up for
the construction of eight airfields. By the time war came seven of these
had been built and they stretched from Lashio in the north to Mingaladon in the south; there were also landing strips farther south at
Moulmein, Tavoy, Mergui and at Victoria Point. But although bases
for a considerable defending air force were thus available, the force
itself was almost wholly lacking. In December 1941, only thirty–seven
front–line aircraft, British and American, were available in Burma,
though the defence plan stipulated that a figure of 280 was the minimum necessary to meet an invading enemy. Of this small force, sixteen
were Buffalo fighters of No. 67 RAF Squadron. The remainder were
Tomahawks of an American squadron—part of the American Volunteer
Group stationed in Burma for the protection of the Burma Road,
from which they had been detached to aid in the defence of Rangoon.
Both squadrons were based at Mingaladon airfield a few miles north–
west of that city, for it was rightly anticipated that the enemy would
aim first at disrupting this important supply port.
No. 67 Squadron was virtually a New Zealand unit since, apart
from the squadron and flight commanders, almost all its pilots were
New Zealanders. They were to establish a fine record. Most of them
had come straight from flying training schools in the Dominion, but
they made up for their lack of experience with a fine aggressive spirit
and their efforts over Rangoon in the next few weeks were to win high
praise from their more seasoned American comrades.
Based originally at Singapore, No. 67 was not transferred to Burma
until October 1941, barely two months before the first enemy attack.
On their arrival at Mingaladon the New Zealanders and their fellow
pilots had settled down to intensive training and to familiarise themselves with the airfield layout and the area over which they were to
operate. They had little time, however, for on 7 December came news
of the Japanese landings in Thailand, whereupon full operational
readiness was ordered. Three days later the American squadron
arrived at Rangoon and a close liaison was soon established between
the two units.
The first alarm came on 10 December, when a small force of Japanese
bombers was reported south of Mergui heading for Rangoon, but they
turned away and bombed the airfield at Mergui instead. In retaliation
two low–level attacks were made on enemy air bases just across the
border, but apart from these forays and a few shipping escort patrols
the next fortnight passed quietly. Then, on the 23rd, came the first
Japanese raid on Rangoon. Both American Tomahawks and RAF
Buffalos were scrambled to meet it and, as already related, the Allied
pilots made the most of their opportunities, claiming thirteen of the
raiders destroyed. Two days later the Japanese returned in somewhat
greater strength, when it was noticed that the number of escorting
fighters had been considerably increased. The defenders, although
thus heavily outnumbered, went undaunted into battle. Again and
again they dived into the enemy formations and, after a series of
whirlwind engagements, claimed more than twenty Japanese aircraft
destroyed. Their efforts undoubtedly impressed the enemy for he at
once turned to night bombing, and for the next four weeks Rangoon
remained virtually free from daylight attack. This in itself was a
notable victory; moreover, the respite from day bombing thus gained
enabled supplies and reinforcements, including 7 Armoured Brigade,
to be safely disembarked at Rangoon.
The fighter pilots of No. 67 Squadron acquitted themselves well in
these opening air battles. On the 23rd, Sergeants Bargh
Flight Lieutenant C. V. Bargh, DFC; born Carterton, 30 Sep 1921; farmer; joined
RNZAFApr 1940.
and G. A.
Williams
Flight Lieutenant G. A. Williams, DFM; born Napier, 29 Apr 1918; builder's apprentice;
joined RNZAF21 Dec 1940.
were among the first to sight the enemy. In a moment Bargh
was among the Japanese fighters, where he at once became involved in a
series of confused dogfights. Then, as the enemy fighters drew away
from the formation, Williams saw his opportunity and went for the
bombers, shot one of them down and got bursts into the petrol tanks
of five or six more; since the Japanese tanks were not self–sealing it is
possible that some of these aircraft failed to return to their base. Meanwhile, with his aircraft shot full of holes, Bargh dived away from the
enemy fighters, flew out to sea and regained height to renew the attack.
His windscreen had oiled up so he took off one of his flying boots,
wiped the perspex clean with his sock, and then swept down upon the
bombers as they came away from the target. Joined now by Sergeant
Beable,
Flight Lieutenant E. H. Beable; born Auckland, 12 Nov 1920; clerk; joined RNZAFOct 1940.
he dived on the enemy formation and succeeded in destroying
one bomber and probably a fighter. Beable also got a long burst into
a bomber, which was last seen trailing smoke. Sergeant Christiansen
Flying Officer W. Christiansen; born Frankton Junction, 16 Oct 1920; clerk; joined
RNZAFApr 1940; killed on air operations, 9 Apr 1943.
was among other pilots who engaged the enemy, but his windscreen
became covered with oil and he was unable to observe results.
In the second day's attack No. 67 Squadron met the enemy on the
way in, but the fighter opposition was so intense that only Williams
and one other pilot got through to the bombers. They quickly shot
one down, each claiming a half share. Williams then attacked a fighter
and saw it go down apparently out of control, but he was at once
jumped from behind and did not see it hit the ground. Pilot Officer
Sharp
Squadron Leader G. S. Sharp, DSO; born Gisborne, 8 Jul 1912; school teacher; joined
RNZAF28 Sep 1940; commanded No. 4 (RIAF) Sqdn, 1944–45.
and Sergeant Pedersen
Pilot Officer E. E. Pedersen; born Taihape, 2 Mar 1916; orchard worker; joined RNZAF26 Oct 1940; killed on air operations, 18 Mar 1943.
became involved with a large number
of Japanese fighters but fought their way through after shooting up
three of them. Sergeant Beable, making the most of the opportunities
that came his way, blew up a Zero fighter that was on his leader's tail
and also claimed a possible and a damaged. From each of these combats
he had to dive away to evade enemy fighters, but each time he returned
to the fray until his ammunition was exhausted.
Sergeants Bargh, Finn
Sergeant J. G. Finn; born Winton, 6 Nov 1919; clerk; joined RNZAFDec 1940;
killed on air operations, 20 Jan 1942.
and Rutherford
Flight Lieutenant K. A. Rutherford, DFC; born Christchurch, 26 Oct 1918; sheep
farmer; joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
were among other pilots
in the thick of the fighting this day and each of them scored hits on
enemy aircraft. But during the air battle No. 67 lost four pilots, three
of whom—Sergeants Macpherson,
Sergeant J. Macpherson; born Otautau, 21 Jan 1916; survey chainman; joined RNZAF21 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 25 Dec 1941.
Hewitt
Sergeant E. B. Hewitt; born Opotiki, 11 Sep 1922; student; joined RNZAFDec 1940;
killed on air operations, 25 Dec 1941.
and McNabb
Sergeant R. P. McNabb; born Wellington, 23 May 1922; garage assistant; joined
RNZAF24 Nov 1940; killed on air operations, 25 Dec 1941.
—were
New Zealanders.
The destruction by Allied pilots of more than thirty enemy machines
in these two days was no mean achievement considering the difficulties
under which the defence operated. The worst of these difficulties was,
and remained, the lack of an adequate warning system. In the whole of
Burma there was only one single radar unit. Worn and already obsolete,
it was sited to the east of Rangoon, where it supplemented a chain of
observer posts spread thinly along the hills and reporting by means of
the local telephone service. The unit did its best, but its efficiency may
be judged by the fact that only on one occasion did the warning which
it gave of the approach of enemy aircraft arrive earlier—and then only
by a few minutes—than that given by the men of the Observer Corps.
Similarly, on the Rangoon airfields there was no modern system of
communication and during the first heavy raids orders to ‘scramble’
were often delivered to the waiting pilots by messengers racing to
them on bicycles.
When these last–minute warnings came pilots took off through swirling clouds of dust, which hung in the air like a solid wall, and climbed
away from the enemy—lest the Japanese fighters already on the horizon
should sweep down on them. Then, having gained the necessary height,
they returned to attack the Japanese bombers, which were usually found
flying in formations of twenty–seven, with fighters circling round them.
Whenever possible the British and American pilots would swoop down
from above, firing at anything Japanese in their sights, but never lifting
from their dive. Enemy fighters would follow them down and then
turn to let others take up the chase. Near the ground our pilots would
pull up, gain height, and then dive again into the Japanese formations.
These were not orthodox tactics, but when the enemy seemed to have
almost every advantage they were necessary, and they were highly
successful.
Inevitably, of course, many of the bombers succeeded in getting
through and there were casualties and damage in Rangoon and on the
airfields. In Rangoon the population was quite unprepared for total
war and curiosity ousted fear. Traders in the market–places left their
stalls, sweating coolies laid aside their burdens to line the quays or the
Strand Road, worshippers ran from their pagodas, women and children
from their houses—all peering intently upwards to watch the dogfights
in the skies. On the first day there were 2000 casualties from the fragmentation bombs. On the second day no one wanted to miss the sights
so there were 5000 more casualties. Then panic was immediate and
widespread. All who could fled the city or prepared to do so. Thousands
moved out to live in the open. Thousands more, uncomprehending,
left their homes in sad processions for the hills. Seen by our pilots from
the air, the trains and lorries running north from Rangoon resembled
moving twigs on which bees had swarmed. Indeed the number of men,
women and children who began to stream out of the city will never be
accurately known but it was not less than 100,000. In the following
months, as more of Burma was overrun by the enemy, this number
increased until it seemed that half the population was wending its way
northwards, disorganised and panic stricken. Thousands died by the
wayside from cholera, malaria, or from fatigue and hunger. Through
the hot jungle, past steaming paddy fields up into the hills they plodded
on, making for the doubtful safety of India. But only a broken and
disease–ridden remnant achieved their goal.
At the end of December 1941, however, this appalling migration of
human beings, one of the grimmest ever recorded, was still in the future.
In the absence of further daylight raids the first panic subsided and
life in Rangoon returned to something like normal for a few weeks.
On the airfield at Mingaladon all hands had set to work to fill in
bomb craters and repair damaged aircraft against the possibility of
further raids. The operations room, demolished by one of the first
bombs, was quickly rebuilt, the ground staff worked hard to achieve
maximum serviceability and pilots waited at readiness for the next
attack. When the Supreme Commander, General Sir Archibald
Wavell, visited the station a few days later, he was able to congratulate
all ranks not only on their defeat of the enemy but on their efforts in
repairing the damage and having the squadron again at maximum
preparedness.
The New Zealanders readily adapted themselves to the new conditions and to the strain of waiting—a strain which only those who
have waited for the reappearance of the enemy under such conditions
can fully appreciate. Here is one pilot's description of the early morning
scene at Mingaladon airfield:
Before dawn the flight truck would roll up to the dispersal hut and yawning pilots would jump out to disentangle their flying gear from the heap on
the bench. Outside, in the keen air of the early dawn, the silence would be
split by the sudden crackle of Cyclone engines bursting into life, blue flames
licking back from the motors as they were run up. Rutherford, a sheep
farmer from Canterbury and wise in the ways of bushcraft, could usually be
found building a fire—at a safe distance between the aircraft and the hut—
to brew the inevitable tea. Christiansen and Cutfield
Warrant Officer P. T. Cutfield; born Papatoetoe, 28 Jul 1918; clerk; joined RNZAFDec 1940.
developed the routine
of a morning session of ‘Acey Deuce’, a game very popular with the pilots
of the American Volunteer Group. Other pilots, deciding that an opportunity to sleep was not to be lightly tossed aside, would stretch themselves
comfortably on a pile of parachutes and flying gear, while some would make
the most of a chance to repair equipment.
Before long the mess truck would arrive with supplies of eggs and bacon,
soon to be sizzling in the frying pan. Then a rattle of cutlery and laughter
as all gathered round to breakfast from huge sandwiches composed of a
fried egg on a slice of bacon held between two planks of bread. The carefree
manner, cheery banter, and spirit of comradeship among all ranks gave life
something denied to those whose lot is cast in a more peaceful mould.
For the moment the defence of Rangoon remained the primary
task, but No. 67 Squadron also flew occasional photographic reconnaissances to obtain information about Japanese air concentrations in
Thailand. As a result of one such flight the Buffalos were sent to shoot
up Mesoht airfield. The enemy was taken by surprise; buildings were
thoroughly strafed, aircraft at the end of the runway hit and a large
fire started. A week later, while on reconnaissance over Tavoy, Pilot
Officer Brewer
Pilot Officer P. M. Brewer; born Wellington, 14 Apr 1919; clerk; joined RNZAFJul 1940; killed on air operations, 20 Jan 1942.
surprised an enemy aircraft and sent it crashing in
flames into the hills.
Some desperately needed reinforcements, which took the form of a
squadron of Blenheim bombers and some thirty Hurricane fighters,
arrived in Burma during the early part of January 1942. New Zealanders
were among their crews—Squadron Leader P. D. Smith
Squadron Leader P. D. Smith, DFC; born Radcliffe, Lancaster, 14 Mar 1916; joined
RNZAF5 Apr 1938; transferred RAF15 Mar 1939; retransferred RNZAF16 Mar 1944.
and Flight
Sergeant Keys
Flying Officer J. Keys; born London, 25 Oct 1920; warehouseman; joined RNZAF22 Dec 1940.
as captains and Sergeants Dingle,
Sergeant A. M. Dingle; born Hamilton, 7 Nov 1917; farmer; joined RNZAFJul 1940;
killed on air operations, 24 Jan 1942.
Beard,
Flight Sergeant J. H. Beard; born Dunedin, 16 May 1911; furrier; joined RNZAFNov 1940.
Brooking
Warrant Officer E. Brooking; born Auckland, 31 Jan 1922; shop assistant.
and J. B. J. McKenzie
Warrant Officer J. B. J. McKenzie; born Auckland, 23 Oct 1919, bank clerk.
as navigators of Blenheim bombers; Flight
Sergeants Beale,
Flight Lieutenant C. G. Beale; born Wellington, 10 Jan 1912; civil engineer; joined
RNZAFSep 1940.
Campbell,
Flying Officer A. R. Campbell; born Christchurch, 9 Aug 1921; student; joined RNZAFSep 1940.
Dunkley
Flying Officer W. D. Dunkley; born Palmerston North, 29 Jan 1919; bank clerk; joined
RNZAF9 Jul 1940.
and Fox
Flight Lieutenant C. H. Fox, AFC; born Brunner, Westland, 9 May 1913; labourer;
joined RNZAF27 Oct 1940.
as Hurricane pilots.
The advent of these reinforcements, small though they were, enabled
the RAF to hit back at Japanese airfields and bases in Thailand. The
Blenheims, on the very night of their arrival after their long flight
from the Middle East, took off to fly hundreds of miles over strange
country and bomb the docks at Bangkok. They began operations in
earnest ten days later, after a refit at Lashio, when their targets included the airfields at Mesoht, Tak and Messareing; they also paid
another visit to Bangkok. Meanwhile the Hurricanes were in action
from advanced bases at Moulmein, Mergui, Tavoy and elsewhere.
Their operations, along with those of the Blenheims, achieved a
considerable, if fleeting, success. For they had soon destroyed or
damaged some fifty enemy planes on the ground and by so doing
delayed the achievement by the enemy of air supremacy.
During the last week of January the Japanese made a determined
effort to overwhelm our small fighter force at Rangoon. They made
repeated daylight attacks on the city and docks, but after losing some
fifty bombers and fighters in six days they gave up the attempt and
again reverted to night raids. This second failure on their part to
achieve command of the air was a measure of the soundness of the
defence and the skill and courage of the Allied fighter pilots.
New Zealanders with No. 67 Squadron were again prominent in
the air battles. On the 23rd, Sergeant Christiansen shot down one
Japanese fighter and Pilot Officer Cooper
Flight Lieutenant A. A. Cooper; born Palmerston North, 11 Sep 1919; clerk; joined
RNZAFJan 1941.
damaged another. The
next day Cooper, Bargh, Christiansen and Flight Sergeant Sadler
Flying Officer E. L. Sadler; born Tynemouth, England, 9 Jun 1916; clerk; joined
RNZAF1 Sep 1940; killed on air operations, 26 Mar 1943.
were
patrolling over Mingaladon when they sighted a formation of enemy
bombers to the south-east. They dived to intercept and in the ensuing
action shot down every one of them. ‘Sadler's first target,’ says the
record, ‘at once fell out of formation and crashed in flames. He then
set fire to a second bomber and two other pilots finished it off. Cooper
got a long burst into another which blew up; his own engine was hit
and caught fire but he dived steeply and succeeded in blowing the
flames out. Bargh followed earlier successes by getting a “flamer”
after an attack pressed home to 100 yards. He saw all the other bombers
in the formation going down, some in flames and some with wings
falling off. The last one blew up when he was about to attack and
crashed beside the railway line north-east of Pegu.’
This renewal of the air battle over Rangoon was accompanied by
disturbing news from the south, where the Japanese land assault from
Thailand had now begun. The British garrison at Tavoy had been overwhelmed and Mergui evacuated. The airfield at Moulmein, our main
forward air base, was captured on 30 January and as a consequence the
warning system, such as it was, was disorganised. Soon it was no more
than a solitary Hurricane which patrolled above Rangoon, keeping
watch like ‘Jim Crow’. As the Japanese pressed on, our few Blenheim
bombers did their best to aid the Army by attacking vehicles, troop
movements and supplies, but their efforts, though gallantly made, were
too small to stem the enemy advance. By mid-February Japanese troops
had reached the Sittang River, where they inflicted heavy losses on
the retreating British Army; most of 17 Division was cut off and our
pilots witnessed the melancholy spectacle of Empire troops drowning
in the broad river after the bridge had been demolished. A few days
later air reconnaissance reported the enemy in strength near Pegu, only
seventy miles north-east of Rangoon, which meant that the city might
soon be isolated and captured.
On 24 and 25 February the Japanese renewed their air assault on
the capital, employing over 150 bombers and fighters. Once again they
were met by American, British and New Zealand pilots in their Buffalos,
Hurricanes and Tomahawks who, in a series of hard-fought battles,
once again inflicted substantial casualties. One report states that a fifth
of the raiding force was destroyed. But, whatever the actual damage,
the fact remains that the Japanese made no further attempt to dominate
the air over Rangoon until its airfields had been captured. By thus
holding off the Japanese Air Force until the very end, Allied pilots
enabled reinforcements arriving at the last minute to be put ashore
unmolested, and when the Army was finally compelled to retreat from
Rangoon its demolition parties were able to complete the destruction
of the oil storage tanks, refinery and port installations—all without
interference from the air.
As the fall of Rangoon became imminent the remnants of the Allied
fighter force—three battle-worn Buffalos, four American Tomahawks
and some twenty Hurricanes—were ordered northwards. Abandoning
Mingaladon, they went to a hastily built dirt-strip cut out of the paddy
fields at Zigon, where they stood by to cover the evacuation of Rangoon. So treacherous was the surface at Zigon that one landing in five
resulted in damage to the aircraft; invariably tail wheels were rendered
unserviceable and bamboo skids had to be fitted as a temporary expedient in order to fly out damaged machines for repair. On 7 March
sappers began the work of demolition in Rangoon; the last ships left
the port and a forty-mile column of vehicles, including newly arrived
tanks, began to wend its way northward. Overhead circled our few
remaining fighters flying through the heavy haze sent up by burning
oil depots and the port. No enemy bombers appeared.
What remained of our air force now moved by successive stages
towards India, covering the retreat of the Army as best it could. For
a few weeks Blenheims and Hurricanes operated from the civil airport
at Magwe, or from ‘Kutcha’ strips cut out of the jungle and on the
hard paddy land bordering the Prome Road. There were no dispersal
pens and no proper accommodation for pilots at Magwe. Some of the
New Zealanders with No. 67 Squadron lived in deserted buildings on
a peanut farm, and they were glad to supplement their meagre rations
with tinned food and fruit cakes saved from food parcels sent to Rangoon by relatives and friends back home; and as an alternative to
drinking chlorinated water from the Irrawaddy, they ate melons
bought in the local villages.
It was from Magwe that our pilots struck their last blow at the
Japanese Air Force. This was on 21 March after air reconnaissance had
reported a large concentration of enemy aircraft on their old base at
Mingaladon. Blenheims and Hurricanes took off to bomb and strafe
the airfield where, after battling their way through a screen of enemy
fighters, they succeeded in destroying aircraft both on the ground and
in the air, two of the latter falling to the guns of the Blenheims.
Contemporary reports give sixteen destroyed on the ground and a further eleven in the
air.
This
action, however, brought swift and very effective reprisal raids. They
began that same afternoon, suddenly and without warning, while our
pilots were being briefed and their machines refuelled for a second
operation against Mingaladon. Four Hurricanes and six Tomahawks
got off to intercept the first formation and shot down four of them.
But during the next twenty-four hours over two hundred Japanese
bombers and fighters came over Magwe; the defences were overwhelmed, the airfield was pitted with craters and sixteen Blenheims
and eleven Hurricanes were destroyed on the ground. By night the runways were repaired sufficiently for such machines as could fly to take
off and struggle to Akyab. But the Japanese at once followed up with
a series of raids on the airfield there, and by the end of March they had
virtually wiped out what was left of our Air Force in Burma. Aircrews
and ground staffs were then withdrawn to India to reform and re-equip
their squadrons, but Akyab was maintained as an advanced base in
order to keep the Andaman Islands and the Arakan coast within range
of our reconnaissance aircraft.
Our pilots, with their ground crews performing miracles on engines
and airframes, had fought to the end, displaying a spirit and tenacity
equalling that shown by the men of Fighter Command in the Battle
of Britain. Every day for eight weeks at Mingaladon and the other
airfields, then at Zigon and Magwe, the pilots had been at two
minutes' readiness. This was an intolerable strain but these youngsters
—for most of them were little more—had borne it and had flown and
fought to exhaustion. It is recorded that one of them was caught at
last over Akyab and shot down into the sea. In the water he found
the nozzle of his Mae West and blew hard, but the life-jacket did not
inflate. For a moment he searched to find the defect and, finding none,
blew again. Only then did he realise that the air was escaping not
through the Mae West but through a hole drilled by a bullet in his
cheek and jawbone. Unaided by his lifebelt, he kept afloat for three
hours until picked up by natives in a canoe, and before long was
flying Hurricanes again. Of such were the pilots of the Burma retreat.
Now that they had command of the air the Japanese fighters and
bombers ranged over a wide area of northern Burma, attacking Lashio,
Mandalay, Loiwing and Myitkyina. Their assault on Mandalay,
delivered on 3 April, was particularly devastating; in a few hours
three-fifths of the ancient city was destroyed by high explosive and
fire and thousands of its inhabitants blasted or burnt to death. The
ever-growing stream of refugees making their way northwards through
jungle and over mountain to India brought the tragedy to its awful
climax. Meanwhile the Japanese ground forces were advancing with
great rapidity. Before the end of April they had reached Lashio and
cut the Burma Road; and with their capture of Mandalay a few days
later all hope of holding northern Burma had to be abandoned. The
British Army now began its final withdrawal to India. It was a melancholy retreat, lightened only by the many individual acts of courage
and fortitude that were performed as the tired and weary troops fought
their way back across river and mountain and through the jungle.
Great and timely aid to both troops and refugees was given by the
unarmed and unarmoured Dakota and Valentia transport aircraft of
No. 31 Squadron from India. Flying far beyond the normal limits of
endurance for men and machines, they dropped food and medical
supplies along the routes and, landing wherever they could in Burma,
brought out thousands of sick and wounded soldiers and civilians.
In this work of succour and rescue it was sometimes necessary to fly
as high as 17,000 feet in order to cross the Naga Hills between the
Brahmaputra and the Irrawaddy, and at the same time find cloud
cover in which to elude Japanese fighters. On more than one occasion
the transports were attacked on the ground and their passengers and
crews machine-gunned by low-flying enemy aircraft. But the work
went on, helped in its later stages by an American troop-carrier
squadron. In all 8616 men, women and children were flown to India
and about fifty tons of supplies delivered to the refugees and the troops.
By 20 May the last British and Indian troops reached Imphal on the
Indian frontier, just before the monsoon burst, flooding the rivers
and sending landslides down to block the roads and tracks over which
they had marched. During the last stages of this withdrawal aircraft
based in India—some Blenheim bombers and a few Mohawk fighters—
gave what help they could. Lysanders, small aircraft normally employed only on short-range reconnaissance for the Army, turned
themselves into improvised bombers and at least one of their pilots
developed the habit of hurling hand grenades at Japanese troops
while flying low over their advancing columns. But such gestures of
defiance only served to demonstrate the state to which our air force
had been reduced by the series of disastrous events in Burma and by
our unpreparedness for war in the Far East. It was indeed fortunate
that the advent of the monsoon, together with difficulties of supply
and communications, prevented the Japanese from pressing their
advantage and invading India.
Squadron Leader Andrews
Wing Commander H. L. Andrews, MBE; born Parnell, 4 Feb 1906; served RAF
1930–36; rejoined RAFSep 1939; transferred RNZAFMay 1945; commanded ‘RAFChina’ 1942–43; Organisation duties, No. 221 Group, India, 1943–44.
and Flight Lieutenant Brian McMillan
Wing Commander B. W. McMillan, DSO, DFC, AFC; born Stratford, 24 Oct 1912;
clerk-engineer; joined RAF1937; commanded No. 227 Sqdn, Pathfinder Force, 1945;
killed in flying accident, 30 Jan 1948.
deserve mention here for their work with the RAF before and during
the retreat from Burma. Andrews was administrative officer at Rangoon
and then at Magwe until it was evacuated. Thereupon he took a
mobile servicing party north to Lashio so that aircraft which succeeded
in flying out might be kept in operation. But it was not long before
Lashio itself was threatened by the Japanese advance. So, determined
that he and his men should not fall into enemy hands, Andrews organised the departure of all RAF personnel there, some 340 in all, along
with valuable equipment and sent them off in a convoy of 150 vehicles
along the hazardous road from Lashio to Chungtu in China. There,
reorganised under the unusual name of ‘R.A.F. China’ they spent a
year helping the Chinese at their main air bases and in training Chinese
ground crews. They were also able to make their hosts familiar to a
certain extent with the mysteries of radio direction finding, employing
the radar unit which they had brought with them from Magwe.
Flight Lieutenant McMillan played a worthy part in the organisation
of the air lift by No. 31 Transport Squadron. He had been with the
squadron for nearly two years before war came, operating over the
North-west Frontier. He worked hard in training new crews, and
when the squadron was called upon to operate at maximum intensity
in support of the retreating army and the refugees in Burma his efforts
were fully justified. Moreover, his effective organisation of sorties and
his example were in large measure responsible for the efficiency and
determination which were the hallmark of the squadron's operations.
* * * * *
During the early months of 1942 New Zealanders also shared in the
defence of Ceylon and in reconnaissance over the Bay of Bengal—both
highly important tasks at this time for the sea approaches to India and
Ceylon were now wide open to the Japanese Fleet. With the enemy
advance into Burma the port of Calcutta, where a quarter of a million
tons of shipping was concentrated, had come within range of air attack.
Reconnaissance over the Bay of Bengal was maintained by a few
Hudsons based at Cuttack, south of Calcutta, and using Akyab as a
forward refuelling point. While the Army was withdrawing from
Burma, the Hudsons patrolled down the Arakan coast to guard against
surprise attack from the sea and sudden infiltration from behind. They
also watched the Andaman Islands after their occupation by the Japanese, and early in April their vigilance was rewarded by the discovery of
thirteen enemy long-range flying-boats preparing to operate. In two
attacks, the second of which was made in the face of stiff fighter opposition, they sank or put out of action the whole of this enemy reconnaissance force, thus depriving the Japanese of knowledge of the
valuable shipping target which awaited them farther north. Indeed, it
was another three months before any enemy flying-boat attempted reconnaissance flights, and well before that time some seventy British
merchant ships had safely left the port of Calcutta and dispersed themselves among other Indian ports. Flying Officer Page,
Squadron Leader E. F. Page; born Eketahuna, 3 Mar 1915; barrister and solicitor;
joined RNZAF1 Sep 1940.
Pilot Officer
Daniel
Flying Officer N. B. Daniel; born Christchurch, 30 Nov 1917; carpenter; joined RNZAFJul 1941; killed on air operations, 29 Mar 1943.
and Sergeant Laloli
Flying Officer D. J. Laloli; born Auckland, 1 Apr 1920; garage assistant; joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
were among the small group of men who
flew Hudsons on these various missions.
In Ceylon, the port of Colombo with its shipping and our naval base
at Trincomalee, where the Far Eastern Fleet was re-forming, both
presented attractive targets to the enemy. For their defence against
airborne attack some fifty Hurricanes, fourteen Blenheim bombers and
six Catalina flying-boats had been assembled by the end of March 1942,
at which time they represented the main RAF strength available in
South-east Asia. Their presence was opportune for a Japanese naval
force, consisting mainly of aircraft carriers, had now entered the Indian
Ocean to cover the landing of reinforcements at Rangoon. At the beginning of April this force approached Ceylon, and during the next
week its carrier aircraft launched two heavy attacks, one against the
harbour at Colombo and the other against Trincomalee. There was
considerable damage to installations and to airfields, but it was much
less than it might have been. For on both occasions our Catalina flying-boats gave timely warning of the enemy's approach, so that both warships and merchant vessels were able to leave the harbours and disperse
before the attacks developed. Moreover, thanks to the warning received
from the Catalinas—in giving which two of them were shot down, one
just after sending its sighting report—our fighters were ready to meet
the enemy. Over Colombo they shot down eighteen of the raiders and
the anti-aircraft defence claimed five more; three days later over Trincomalee another fifteen enemy machines were destroyed and seventeen
more so badly damaged that they probably never returned to the
carriers. We lost twenty-three Hurricanes in the air fighting. New
Zealanders who took part in these eventful operations included Flying
Officer Brandt
Flight Lieutenant F. W. Brandt; born Manchester, England, 15 May 1915; factory
representative; joined RNZAFJul 1940.
and Flight Sergeant Carlaw,
Flight Lieutenant A. D. Carlaw; born Whangarei, 14 Apr 1916; electrical engineer;
joined RNZAFMay 1940.
who piloted Catalina
flying-boats, Flight Sergeant Garnham,
Flying Officer R. K. Garnham; born Blenheim, 3 Nov 1921; clerk; joined RNZAFSep 1939.
captain of one of the Blenheim bombers, and Flying Officer Sharp
Squadron Leader D. J. T. Sharp, DFC, m.i.d.; RAF; born Dunedin, 30 Aug 1918; joined
RAF24 Jul 1939; transferred RNZAF1 Jan 1944; commanded No. 11 Sqdn, SE
Asia, 1944.
and Sergeant Gavin
Flying Officer L.P. Gavin; born Gisborne, 20 Oct 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF30 Nov
1940.
as
pilots of Hurricane fighters.
The Japanese force did not follow up with further attacks on Ceylon
but it had notable success at sea, where between 5 and 9 April it sank
the British cruisers Dorsetshire and Cornwall, the aircraft carrier Hermes
and fifteen merchant ships, and it achieved these successes without loss
or even damage to any of its ships. It is interesting to note, however,
that in spite of the destruction and damage they caused, Admiral
Nagumo's five carriers had lost so many aircraft and trained aircrews
in the fighting over Ceylon that, a month later, only two of them were
able to take part in the all-important battle of the Coral Sea. The other
three had to return to Japan to renew their complement of aircraft and
pilots. Their presence in the Coral Sea encounter with the American
Fleet might well have turned the scale, with unpleasant consequences
for Australia and New Zealand.
By the summer of 1942 the Japanese surge of conquest sweeping
southwards into the Pacific and westwards towards India had brought
a long succession of victories. They had overrun in turn Malaya, Hong
Kong, Borneo, Java, Sumatra and Burma. Their armies were established on the frontiers of India, prevented from advancing more by
the heavy rains of the monsoon than by any opposition which our
forces could offer. At sea their fleet in the Indian Ocean had not been
brought to action. Their attack on Burma had carried all before it and
the only remaining supply route to China had been cut. Further victories in South-east Asia seemed to await the enemy. But these they
were to be denied. For plans were now maturing, slowly and inexorably, that were to stem the Japanese advance and eventually turn
it back into complete and utter defeat. The success of these plans was to
depend largely upon the weapon of air power and its use in novel and
daring fashion.
CHAPTER 13
Fighting Back from India
IN India the early months of 1942 were the hottest for many years.
Calcutta residents remembered nothing like them and Indians in
unprecedented numbers died in the streets. Out on the airfields where
blast pens were being built against the expected Japanese attack it was
possible to work only until ten in the morning. At Allahabad, a
reinforcement base for Hurricanes and Blenheims, many of the ground
staff were stricken by heat exhaustion and several died. At Asansol
the temperature reached 127 degrees in the shade and the heat distorted
aircraft panels so that they gave in the air. Everywhere men longed
for the monsoon, hoping that the rains would bring relief from the
misery of the endless stifling heat.
At Alipore, where Hurricanes were based for the defence of Calcutta,
fighter pilots lay listless waiting for the ‘scramble’ warning that would
send them climbing into the cooler air four miles above. They had
arrived before sunrise, walked through the parched grass to the aircraft, unpicketed them and taxied over to the dispersal hut, checked,
placed harness ready, and then hastened to find a place among the
coco-fibre couches known as ‘Charpoys’. There they had their pets—pariah
puppies or a baby Himalayan bear—and fondling them they
became hotter still for they wore full flying kit to save seconds in case
of a sudden alarm. But the weeks dragged by and no Japanese bombers
came. At dispersal the atmosphere remained humid and lifeless, and
even before dawn pilots sweated as they dressed for readiness. They
had to wear long sleeves and long trousers against the danger of
sudden flame on skin, and also, in case they baled out, as protection
against jungle leeches. So they sat while on patrol with the sun beating
through the perspex of their cockpits, their own sweat stinging the
prickly heat into red weals. And prickly heat was not the only bane
of that torrid summer, for there were other less pleasant torments
caused by the myriad flies.
In Calcutta itself, where the heat was probably more unbearable
than out on the sultry airfields of the Ganges, these were strange days.
The great city was now filled with refugees and there were sailors
without ships, aircrew without aircraft, and soldiers awaiting an army.
The hotels had become squadron messes and fighter pilots waited at
readiness in the shoddy splendour of the Grand Hotel, a few yards
from their aircraft parked along the Red Road. For the impressive
red-coloured highway which runs down one side of the great open
space in Calcutta known as the ‘Maidan’ was now being used as a
landing strip—partly because better warning could be received, partly
because of the shortage of adequate safe dispersal at nearby airfields
and partly for the morale of the local population. Sometimes a squadron
‘scramble’ would send the green and brown Hurricanes up through
the cloud above the baking ant-heap of the city, but on most occasions
the pilots would hardly have time to reach the cooler air above before
the radar plot would prove ‘friendly’ and orders would come over
the radio telephone for the squadron to land.
At last the monsoon broke and the days of drought were over.
To the men on the Indian airfields it came like a grey-blue horizon
moving towards them across the Ganges plain, becoming darker each
moment as the wind mounted to a gale. For a while it was rainless
under the black sky and then the storm burst. Often it came so quickly
that pilots who rushed out at the first warning to turn their aircraft
into the wind and picket them down were too late and had to
struggle in the rain. But the monsoon, they soon found, brought no
respite from the heat—only moisture and howling winds. Indeed, in
this and the following years, the period from June to October was to
prove one of acute and prolonged discomfort—the kind of discomfort
that comes from working in a stinging downpour and then finding
camp beds and blankets as wet as the air they breathed. For months
on end men had to endure such conditions, often with uncooked and
almost always with monotonous food, their cigarettes frequently
spoiled by musty-tasting damp, with no proper means to dry their
clothes and with everything in the tents mildewed. At the outposts
there were neither books to read nor hurricane lamps to read them by,
so in the long nights men lay sweating under their mosquito nets,
talking across the tent until there was nothing left to talk about.
The storms abated but not the heat. In the intervals there was no
wind to disturb the clammy blanket that settled over the land and the
overpowering humid heat, the mounting incidence of malaria and the
general atmosphere of defeat, all tended to produce a mood of unbearable depression. Yet the men in their flights and squadrons overcame the sense of oppressiveness in various ways. They played cards
and wrote letters, they became friends with the native children, made
pets of all kinds of animals; they put on plays and revues, sang the old
RAF songs and made up new ones, argued endlessly about the war,
about tactics and about their future prospects. But in all the forward
units the story was the same—not enough equipment, too little to
drink or smoke and a monotonous diet of bully beef and ‘soya link’—
that rather unpleasant kind of sausage made from the soya bean. It
was under such conditions that the war in Burma was now fought
and the achievements of the men can hardly be appreciated unless they
are understood and remembered.
While the monsoon of 1942 thus came and went, both Army and
Air Force were gradually re-forming and re-equipping after the long
retreat from Burma. Weapons and equipment, however, were scarce,
for with the Allies sorely beset in Europe, in the Middle East and in
the Pacific, little could be spared for the new front in South-east Asia.
There were other limitations owing to the very unsettled political
situation in India at this time, the attitude of the Congress Party in
particular being anything but helpful to British arms. In the circumstances, therefore, General Wavell and his air commander, Air Chief
Marshal Peirse,
Air Chief Marshal Sir Richard E. C. Peirse, KCB, DSO, AFC, Croix de Guerre (It),
Order of Polonia Restituta (Pol), Knight Grand Cross of Orange Nassau (Hol), Legion
of Merit (US), Order of Cloud and Banner (Ch); RAF (retd); born Croydon, 30 Sep
1892; Deputy Chief of Air Staff, 1937–40; Vice-Chief of Air Staff, 1940; AOC Bomber
Command, 1940–42; AOC-in-C, India, 1942–43; Air C-in-C, SEAC, 1943–44.
were mainly concerned during the next few months
with renewing their strength and consolidating the defences of India.
And so, while British sappers directed thousands of Indian labourers
in the building of roads along the Arakan coast and across the Naga
gorges towards the Manipur frontier, the RAF pressed on with the
construction of airfields, the establishment of supply and maintenance
bases and the setting up of wireless and radar units in Bengal and
Assam. In the air the three light-bomber squadrons brought out of
Burma were made up to strength with Blenheim IVs, and these were
later joined by a few Wellingtons, the nucleus of a night-bomber force.
The fighter defence of north-east India, which had previously rested
on one squadron of Mohawks, was augmented in June by three Hurricane squadrons from the United Kingdom. Catalinas, Blenheims and
Hudsons were organised for sea and coastal reconnaissance, and
presently it became possible to replace the Blenheims by Beaufort
torpedo-bombers. Some photo-reconnaissance Spitfires arrived in November 1942, but another year was to elapse before these modern
machines appeared as fighters and changed the course of the war. A
few Liberator heavy bombers also came that same month but they were
kept grounded for some considerable time by lack of spares. To this
modest air strength was gradually added the small Indian Air Force
which, after many vicissitudes, eventually reached a strength of six
Hurricane squadrons and two armed with Vultee Vengeance bombers.
The number of New Zealanders with the RAF in India increased
steadily during this period as veterans of Singapore and Rangoon were
joined by men from Britain and the Middle East, and by both aircrew
and ground staff newly trained under the Empire Training Scheme.
By December 1942 there were 250 Dominion airmen serving with units
of India Air Command. The large majority were aircrew and they included Hurricane and Mohawk fighter pilots, Blenheim and Wellington
captains, navigators, wireless operators and gunners, together with
crews of Hudson reconnaissance aircraft. Among the thirty-odd men
engaged on ground duties there were radar specialists, wireless operators and aircraft mechanics.
Three New Zealanders, Wing Commander L. G. W. Lilly, Squadron
Leaders Maling
Wing Commander J. R. Maling, AFC; born Timaru, 5 Nov 1913; clerk; joined RAF1934; transferred RNZAF1 Jul 1945; commanded No. 27 Sqdn, India, 1940–41;
No. 5 Sqdn, India, 1942; No. 619 Sqdn, 1944; prisoner of war, 26 Jul 1944.
and Mowat
Wing Commander N. J. Mowat, DSO, m.i.d.; born Clydevale, Otago, 18 Sep 1914;
joined RAF28 Dec 1938; transferred RNZAFJan 1945; commanded No. 607 Sqdn,
1941–42; No. 166 Wing, India, 1942–43; held various appointments India and ACSEA,
1943–44; commanded RAF Station, Peterhead, 1944–45; killed in flying accident,
7 Nov 1946.
commanded RAF units throughout this
period.
Lilly commanded a Hudson squadron that was formed in June 1942
at Dum Dum, near Calcutta. The Hudsons, among whose crews there
were sixteen New Zealanders, flew shipping escort and anti-submarine
patrols over the Bay of Bengal; they also reconnoitred the Arakan
coast. Lilly was no stranger to such work. Joining the RAF in England
a few months before the war, he had flown with Coastal Command for
over a year and had then taken a flight of Hudsons out to operate from
Singapore and Java.
Maling, who had now been with the Air Force for eight years, was
in charge of No. 5 Squadron which, equipped with Audax and Wapiti
aircraft, had previously been engaged in operations over the North-west Frontier against rebellious tribesmen. When war came it began to
re-equip with Mohawks, but before this changeover was completed
Maling and his pilots were called upon to cover the retreat from Burma.
Flying from Tezpur in Assam, the Mohawks had been employed on
fighter patrols and the Audaxes and Wapitis to drop supplies and pick
up messages from the ground, such messages often providing the only
information from forward posts about the enemy's advance. Now, however, the squadron was turning to the offensive, bombing and strafing
roads, railways and airfields in northern Burma.
Mowat led a squadron of Hurricane fighters that was based at Alipore for the defence of Calcutta. He had already distinguished himself
in operations with Fighter Command, which he joined at the outbreak
of war, and had brought his squadron out to India early in 1942. He
subsequently achieved a fine record in the Burma theatre as leader of a
Hurricane wing and then as operations officer at Air Headquarters.
New Zealand representation among the fighter squadrons was strong,
notably in No. 67 Hurricane Squadron, where two-thirds of the pilots
were from the Dominion; Nos. 135, 136 and 146 Hurricane Squadrons
and No. 5 Mohawk Squadron also had substantial New Zealand representation. Many of the men in these units had already fought over
Burma, and, experienced in the flying conditions peculiar to this part
of the world, they provided a valuable nucleus of seasoned pilots for
the steadily expanding fighter force. Of the bomber and reconnaissance
units, Nos. 34 and 113 Blenheim and Nos. 99 and 215 Wellington
Squadrons each had a contingent of Dominion airmen, as did No. 217
Hudson Squadron and No. 22 Squadron, the first unit to fly Beaufort
torpedo-bombers.
These concentrations of Dominion personnel were, however, largely
fortuitous and, despite the efforts of some squadron commanders, did
not long persist. No official moves were made to form New Zealand
squadrons in the India-Burma theatre with the result that, as the campaign progressed, Dominion airmen became widely scattered through
the RAF organisation. Unfortunately the New Zealand Government
and Air Force took little interest in their men serving with the RAF
in South-east Asia Command. Not until another two years had elapsed
was a liaison office established at Delhi, and then it was staffed by a
single junior officer. Flight Lieutenant Twigge
Flight Lieutenant T. Twigge; born Palmerston North, 3 Aug 1909; accountant; joined
RNZAF24 Nov 1939.
worked hard to deal
with the many problems involved, but only towards the end of the
war did the arrangements approach what was needed.
* * * * *
The monsoon severely restricted air activity during 1942. Nevertheless, from April to December that year the RAF flew 3790 sorties
and lost 81 aircraft while so doing. During the torrid summer months,
while fighter pilots waited at readiness to defend Calcutta, Blenheims
and Mohawks went out whenever possible over Burma to bomb and
strafe airfields, railways and any military concentrations they could
find; Dakota crews continued to search for and drop supplies to the
groups of refugees still struggling through the dense jungle to the
safety of Assam; Lysanders and Audaxes kept in touch with forward
army units and Hudsons continued their coastwise patrols.
Simultaneously with these activities there occurred two events which
heralded the revival of Allied fighting power in South-east Asia. The
first was the carrying by RAF Dakotas to Fort Hertz, in the extreme
north of Burma, of a British team to train local levies, and from this
remote outpost, which the Dakotas continued to supply, there soon
began a successful guerrilla warfare against the Japanese invaders.
The second and more important event was the inauguration of an air
supply route to China across the grim razor-backed Patkai Mountains.
This aerial highway, soon to become known as the ‘Hump’ route,
was pioneered by an American airman, Lieutenant-Colonel William
D. Old, and American transport squadrons were soon operating a
busy two-way service, carrying in many tons of supplies and bringing
out some thirteen thousand Chinese troops from their lost battlefields
to be trained and re-equipped in India. Within a few months RAF
Dakotas joined in carrying supplies to China but the bulk of the work
continued to be done by American aircraft.
This was because the primary American interest in South-east Asia was the support and
supply of the forces fighting the Japanese in China. Britain had no such commitment
and her main concern was the reconquest of Burma and Malaya. These diverse national
objectives were, in fact, to have an important bearing on the whole of the subsequent
campaign in Burma, since they led inevitably to differences of opinion regarding future
strategy.
Flying over the ‘Hump’ was extremely hazardous, not only because
of the high and treacherous mountains that had to be traversed, but
also because of the great cumulo-nimbus clouds which hung in huge
masses of brown vapour above them. To enter such cloud formations
meant almost certain death, for the currents in their gloomy depths
were of unimaginable ferocity and violence. Nevertheless, despite
these natural obstacles, the supply aircraft continued to operate intensively and the service grew rapidly until one transport was taking off
from India for China every few minutes of the day. This remarkable
achievement greatly reduced the extent of the Japanese victory in
Burma, for Chinese resistance, instead of withering from lack of
sustenance, was now fed and nourished from the skies.
In contrast to this Allied activity the Japanese Air Force was remarkably slow in developing operations against India. From the end of
October there were sporadic raids on our forward airfields in Assam
and the Chittagong area, but they inflicted only slight damage; the
enemy fighters did, however, have the better of our defending Hurricanes, which, lacking an effective warning system, were usually caught
at a disadvantage of height.
It was not until late December that Calcutta had its first raid and
then only a few Japanese bombers came over at night. They did little
damage except to the morale of the local inhabitants, over a million
of whom, including the cleaners, fled the city, leaving piles of uncollected rubbish rotting in the streets. However, the timely arrival
from Britain of a few Beaufighters, specially equipped for night
interception, soon put an end to the nuisance raids. Within four
nights in mid-January they shot down all but two of the seven Japanese
bombers which came over Calcutta. After that there were no more
raids and the city returned to normal.
General Wavell had meanwhile been making ready to renew the
land battle. His preparations were hindered by the worst malaria
epidemic India had known for many years; so bad did it become that
in October and November 1942, 20,000 sick had to be evacuated
from the Eastern Army area alone, in addition to the 15,000 already
carried away to hospital soon after the exhausted troops arrived from
Burma. Further, the attitude of the Indian Congress Party continued
to delay the development of airfields and supply services generally,
and the climate did not help, nor the monsoon storms which brought
down landslides on the road to Imphal. Nevertheless, despite these
obstacles Wavell persevered with his plans and in December 1942
he made his first moves.
Three vaguely defined ‘fronts’ or areas of contact with the enemy
ground forces had then established themselves. The nearest was in the
Arakan, a country of sharp mountains running down to the narrow
coastal plain which fringes the west of Burma. A middle front lay to
the north below the Imphal plain, while a third stretched through the
fever-stricken valleys north-east of Mandalay. The Japanese were most
favourably placed to resist any attack on our part or to launch an
offensive of their own. They had behind them the entire road system
and waterways of Burma, the excellent port of Rangoon and the comparatively safe bases of Indo-China; moreover, they held the driest
and healthiest part of Burma. The British and Americans, on the other
hand, were holding positions in the mountains and in the malaria-infested valleys of the north where communications were most difficult.
In the circumstances, and with our ground and air forces still relatively
weak, Wavell could not hope to launch any major offensive, but since
the Japanese seemed reluctant to move on India he had decided to take
the initiative and attempt two minor objectives. The first was the capture of Akyab on the Arakan coast; the second was the launching of
the first ‘Chindit’ operation through the Japanese flank on the northeastern front.
In preparation for the attack in Arakan our light bombers, with
fighter escort, had already begun to concentrate upon that region.
Hurricane squadrons from the Calcutta zone, in whose defence they
had spent so many months of frustrated waiting, now moved forward
across the bay to airstrips in the vicinity of Chittagong. There they
lived in tents or in ‘bashas’—a kind of bamboo hut with overhanging
eaves—which were usually tucked away in the jungle alongside the
landing strips. Meals were prepared and eaten in the open, with ravenous kite hawks hovering above ready to swoop and carry away in one
razor-clawed dive any food left unattended. Before long both fighter
pilots and bomber crews were almost continuously in action. The
region over which they flew was far from attractive. ‘Bad pranging
country’, they called it. For down the Mayu peninsula runs a range of
mountains shrouded in thick jungle, with long valleys to the seaward
side and mangrove swamps and low-lying paddy to the east. On the
mainland stagnant marsh and mud flats gradually give place to a low
coastal shelf, beyond which lie the fierce folds of mountains called ‘The
Arakan Yomas’ and then, towards the Himalayas in the north, come
the Chin Hills. Most of this region offered little chance of survival for
those unfortunate enough to be forced down, even if they landed
uninjured.
Covered by Hurricane and Mohawk fighter patrols, our troops
moved forward at the beginning of December 1942 and in a few weeks
success seemed within their grasp. They occupied Maungdaw and
Buthidaung unopposed and shortly afterwards reached Indin. But then
they paused to bring up supplies, and while they were doing so the
Japanese reinforced Akyab in strength and, what was more serious,
began moving other columns from the Kaladan valley towards the
British left flank. Bitter fighting developed, and as the enemy began
to infiltrate behind our positions and against our communications it
became necessary to withdraw. By the end of April our troops, severely
shaken by this first new encounter with the enemy, were back in India
where they started. They had suffered 2500 casualties in battle and
malaria had claimed many more. ‘The greatest gain from the campaign,’ wrote General Wavell, ‘was experience of the enemy's methods
and of our own defects in training and organisation. The serious loss
was in prestige and morale.’
The RAF did its best to support the Army during these months.
Flying ahead, both Hurricanes and Blenheims attacked Japanese transport on roads and waterways and set fire to enemy-held villages. These
operations were very effective and soon the enemy was avoiding movement in the open by day. But our close-support bombing, except on a
few occasions, was less successful, for the Japanese were adept at concealment and their cleverly camouflaged ‘fox-holes’ proved difficult
to discover and destroy; similarly, their infiltrating movements through
the thick jungle were hard to discern even from low-flying aircraft.
When our troops were withdrawing, however, bombing certainly
helped to keep the enemy immobile and enabled our men to escape
from some dangerous situations. Aircraft also evacuated casualties and
dropped supplies to isolated columns.
During March and April the Japanese Air Force made a determined
effort against the airfields from which our squadrons were operating
over the Arakan front. They inflicted a certain amount of damage and
brought some of our fighters back on to the defensive, but they failed
to drive us from the air as they intended; forty-three of the raiders
were claimed destroyed or probably destroyed for the loss of fourteen
RAF fighters. Our Hurricanes then returned to harass the enemy on
the ground with renewed vigour. Soon they were making a daily
practice of what were known as ‘Rhubarbs’, searching the tracks and
waterways behind the enemy for any sign of movement. Sometimes the
Hurricanes would go east over the Arakan Yomas then down to the
tree level of north Burma. There they might detect a cloud of dust near
some such centre as Shwebo and find a convoy beneath the dust cloud.
Cannon and machine-gun sprayed the vehicles and the roadside bushes
into which the Japanese hurled themselves. And then came a climb
over the mountains and back to base. Sorties along the coast to Akyab
were often hazardous because of the mirror-like surface of the sea and
the thick mists which spilled out from the low-lying valleys of the
Arakan. Unable to judge his height accurately, a pilot might fly gently
towards the water and then, in a few moments' time, there would be
nothing left on the sea; no wreckage, not a sign that the Hurricane
had gone in. In fact, the disappearance of several aircraft in the coastal
area remained a mystery until one pilot, after escaping from his cockpit
beneath the sea and then being picked up by fishermen, returned to
tell what had happened.
Air attack on the enemy's road, river and rail traffic reached a climax
as the 1943 monsoon approached and the Japanese sought to hurry
their last convoys forward before the storms blotted out the tracks.
Towards the end of May a concentrated three-day assault was launched
against communications and supply centres; every available squadron
was employed and a total of 547 sorties, nearly a quarter of them by
the now growing American forces, were flown in what appears to
have been a very successful operation. The Japanese at once retaliated
with three fairly heavy raids, two of which were directed against our
main airfield at Chittagong. But local warning had now improved and
on each occasion the raiders were intercepted and suffered fairly heavy
casualties.
Of the New Zealand fighter pilots who flew and fought through
this first Arakan campaign, Flight Sergeant Rudling
Flying Officer J. D. Rudling, DFM; born Vavau, Tonga, 18 Mar 1922; bank clerk;
joined RNZAF27 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 29 Apr 1944.
of No. 136
Hurricane Squadron had more than his share of excitement and
adventure. For twice during combats his Hurricane was set on fire
and he was forced to bale out, but each time he succeeded in making
his way back through the jungle; moreover, on each occasion he
succeeded in shooting down or damaging several enemy machines
before he baled out.
Rudling was in action when the Japanese raided Chittagong towards
the end of May. As he closed with one of the bombers its rear-gunner
set his engine smoking and covered the windscreen with oil. At this
point, as so often happened when the Hurricanes had to pierce fighter
cover to reach the bombers, a Japanese fighter was on Rudling's tail.
He could hear and feel the thudding of shells from the fighter on his
armour plate. Flames from the engine had now crept into the cockpit
but Rudling continued to fire at the twisting bomber ahead, whose
shape alone he could see through the oil. Only when the enemy was
well ablaze and he had exhausted his ammunition did Rudling finally
bale out from his burning Hurricane. On this day the enemy bombers
and fighters, thinking to outwit the defence, had glided in with their
engines switched off; but the Hurricanes, warned by radar of their
approach, were in the air to meet them and they destroyed or damaged
a considerable part of the raiding force.
Also prominent in patrol and attack over the Arakan were men like
Flight Lieutenant E. A. Pevreal and Flying Officer T. B. Marra of No.
146 Squadron, Warrant Officers Dean
Pilot Officer W. H. F. Dean; born Mercury Bay, 21 Aug 1916; school teacher; joined
RNZAFSep 1940; killed on air operations, 31 Mar 1943.
and McIvor
Flight Lieutenant J. V. McIvor; born Hastings, 15 Feb 1920; telegraph cadet; joined
RNZAF1 Sep 1940.
with No. 135
Squadron, and Flying Officer Jacobs
Squadron Leader V. K. Jacobs; born Auckland, 18 Sep 1918; school teacher; joined
RNZAFNov 1940; commanded No. 1 Servicing Party, RAF, 1944.
of No. 136 Squadron. And
among those flying with No. 67 Squadron were Flying Officers
A. A. Cooper, P. S. Hanan and E. L. Sadler; Warrant Officers E. E.
Pedersen and G. A. Williams, and Flight Sergeants Oliver,
Flying Officer A. J. Oliver; born Hawera, 13 Apr 1920; boilermaker; joined RNZAFDec 1940.
K. A.
Rutherford and S. M. D. Wilson.
Flying Officer S. M. D. Wilson; born Auckland, 17 Jan 1918; service-car driver; joined
RNZAF22 Dec 1940.
Squadron Leader P. D. Smith, flight commander in No. 113
Squadron, with Pilot Officer Davidson
Flight Lieutenant J. Davidson, DFC; born Clyde, Otago, 18 Jun 1920; clerk and
orchardist; joined RNZAF21 Mar 1941.
and Sergeant Gilchrist
Flight Sergeant R. A. Gilchrist; born Invercargill, 8 Aug 1911; labourer; joined RNZAFFeb 1941; killed on air operations, 6 Jun 1943.
also
deserve mention for their part in the Blenheim bomber operations
during the campaign.
While the Arakan campaign was still in progress Wavell launched
his second offensive—the imaginative and daring Chindit operation.
Led by the strange but indomitable General Orde Wingate, who had
already distinguished himself as a guerrilla leader in Abyssinia, its
seven columns, comprising some three thousand men in all, set out
from Imphal in February 1943. Their purpose was to filter through
the jungle and harass the enemy by cutting rail and road communications.
Originally the expedition was planned to aid a Chinese army advance but this advance
was postponed. Wavell, however, decided to allow the Chindits to proceed because of
the experience that might be gained and the fillip it would give to morale. See paragraph
24 of Wavell's despatch, Operations in the India Command, 1 January to 20 June 1943.
With them went RAF liaison officers and radio apparatus, for
the novel and important feature of the expedition was that, throughout
its march, it would be sustained by supplies dropped from the air;
the RAF would also do its best to distract attention from the approach
and return of the columns.
At first things went well. Five columns penetrated the enemy lines,
and in a series of operations against the railway from Mandalay to
Myitkyina they destroyed four bridges, cut the tracks in more than
seventy places and brought down many thousands of tons of rock upon
another part of the line. They then crossed the Irrawaddy to attack
the Mandalay-Lashio line. But the Japanese became aware of their
movements and this project had to be abandoned; eventually, under
growing pressure from the enemy, the expedition was forced to break
up and return to India in small parties.
During the three months that the Chindits
Wingate's men came to be known as ‘Chindits’ from their shoulder-flash depicting a
‘chinthe’—the guardian lion of Burmese temples.
were behind the Japanese
lines their losses were high and their achievements seemed small in
proportion to the effort expended. In fact, however, the Japanese were
seriously disturbed by their advent and postponed a proposed attack
on northern Assam. Moreover, the venture did serve to demonstrate
for the benefit of later campaigns that the solution to jungle warfare
against the Japanese lay in the air rather than on the ground.
The RAF efforts at supply and protection had indeed attained a large
measure of success. Flying by night as well as by day, Dakotas of Nos.
31 and 194 Squadrons made 178 sorties and dropped just on 300 tons
of supplies for the Chindits. They ‘did us proud,’ writes Major Fergusson of the Black Watch. ‘Their spirit was exemplified by the unknown
aircraftsman who always dropped the morning paper on us at the end
of the last run, and was wildly cheered by the men on the ground.’
The Wild Green Earth, p. 247.
The majority of the tonnage was collected by the Chindits, though in
the early stages aircraft were less expert at dropping and the troops at
receiving than they subsequently became. Towards the end of the campaign there were, however, times when aircraft duly arrived and circled
vainly above Wingate's columns, who could clearly be seen in the
jungle. These, though they needed the supplies badly enough, dare not
signal for them, for to do so would have brought the enemy against
them in strength. Nevertheless the transport aircraft returned again and
again to seek and aid the heroic bands of men marching back, not
along roads or even tracks, but through the thick jungle and over a mass
of formless hills. Patrol and attack by Mohawk fighters and Blenheim
bombers also helped to distract the enemy's attention from movements
of the Chindit columns.
Among the New Zealanders who flew in support of this first Wingate expedition were Flying Officer Mellsop,
Flight Lieutenant R. G. Mellsop; born Pukekohe, 13 May 1911; accounts clerk; joined
RNZAF15 Jun 1941; killed on air operations, 11 Apr 1944.
one of the original pilots
of No. 194 Squadron, and Sergeants Garrett
Pilot Officer J. Garrett; born Te Mata, 6 Mar 1921; motor-body builder; joined RNZAFOct 1941; killed on air operations, 6 Jan 1944.
and Jackson
Flying Officer V. R. Jackson; born Invercargill, 2 Oct 1914; building contractor;
joined RNZAFSep 1941.
of No. 31
Squadron. They flew transport aircraft on the supply missions. Flying
Officer O'Brien,
Group Captain P. P. O'Brien, OBE; born Wellington, 27 Aug 1913; accountant's
clerk; joined RNZAFJul 1940.
Flight Sergeant McLeary
Warrant Officer G. J. McLeary; born Masterton, 29 Jan 1920; journalist; joined RNZAF4 Jun 1940.
and Sergeant Culpan
Flying Officer I. D. Culpan, DFM; born Auckland, 23 Dec 1921; clerk; joined RNZAFJul 1941.
piloted Blenheims of No. 34 Squadron, while Flight Lieutenant Buddle
Flight Lieutenant T. J. Buddle, DFC; born Auckland, 19 Oct 1919; insurance clerk;
joined RAFMay 1941; transferred RNZAFJan 1944.
and Flying Officers Edwards
Flight Lieutenant M. H. Edwards; born London, 11 Oct 1914; motor mechanic; joined
RNZAFMar 1941.
and Hunter
Flight Lieutenant L. T. Hunter; born Richmond, 16 Jun 1923; marine engineer; joined
RNZAFMar 1941.
of No. 155 Squadron and
Warrant Officer McLauchlan
Flying Officer R. R. A. McLauchlan, DFC; born Waimate, 26 Nov 1918; clerk; joined
RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
of No. 5 Squadron were among those
who flew Mohawk fighters; they worked hard escorting Blenheims
and Dakotas on their missions as well as attacking ground targets.
One New Zealander went into Burma on foot as an air liaison officer
with Wingate's expedition. He was Flight Lieutenant Denis Sharp, a
fighter pilot who had fought over Singapore and had afterwards had
an exciting escape by way of Sumatra. Sharp came through the campaign with great credit. When the Chindit brigade split up he was given
command of one of the parties, and in the hard and dangerous march
back to India kept his men going with fine example and determination,
on one occasion walking into a village alone in order to obtain food
for them. He took part in a pitched battle at Hintha, reconnoitred a
route to the river and, with his party, fought another action with the
Japanese, after which he led a splendid forced march farther than any
other party and through most difficult country.
Long-range night bombing and photographic reconnaissance were
two other spheres of RAF activity in which New Zealanders shared
during these months. In the bomber operations, Flying Officer Jenner
Flight Lieutenant K. S. Jenner, DFC; born Wadhurst, Sussex, 14 Nov 1920; farmer;
joined RNZAFFeb 1940.
achieved a fine record as a Liberator captain in No. 159 Squadron;
with his earlier service with Bomber Command in England and the
Middle East, he had now completed sixty bombing missions. Flight
Sergeant Palmer,
Flying Officer G. W. Palmer, DFC; born Orari, Canterbury, 12 Nov 1915; storeman;
joined RNZAF7 May 1940.
Flight Sergeant Culleton
Flying Officer J. N. Culleton; born Auckland, 26 Sep 1913; postmaster; joined RNZAFNov 1940.
and Sergeant Gunn
Pilot Officer W. T. Gunn, DFM; born Invercargill, 22 Jun 1918; farm labourer; joined
RNZAF16 Feb 1941.
were other prominent members of Liberator crews. With the Wellingtons, Squadron Leader G. L. M. Schrader, Flight Sergeant Paterson
Flying Officer E. G. Paterson; born Dunedin, 7 Oct 1915; grocer; joined RNZAF2 Mar 1941.
and Sergeant Hampton
Flying Officer H. D. Hampton, DFC, Air Medal (US); born Christchurch, 29 May
1914; electrical equipment salesman; joined RNZAFAug 1941.
did good work as pilots, while Flight Sergeant
Phillips
Flight Lieutenant W. C. Phillips; born Palmerston North, 5 May 1916; window dresser;
joined RNZAF29 Sep 1940.
navigated the leading aircraft on many raids.
At this early stage one squadron of Wellingtons and one of Liberators were all that was available for night bombing, and they lacked
many of the maintenance and operational facilities that existed in Britain
for operating heavy bombers. Nevertheless, as early as November and
December 1942, the two squadrons managed over 180 sorties against
airfields in Burma and almost as many against communications and
military targets. While the Wellingtons concentrated on nearer objectives such as Akyab, Taungup and Mandalay, the Liberators went
farther afield down the Irrawaddy valley as far as Rangoon. A New
Zealand Liberator crew flew Air Vice-Marshal Stevenson, who was in
charge of the Bengal Air Command, on one of the first raids against
Mingaladon airfield at Rangoon. And it afforded the bomber men no
little satisfaction to strike back at this and other air bases from which our
squadrons had been driven during the retreat from Burma. Airfields
remained a priority target for the Wellingtons and Liberators throughout the first half of 1943, during which time they flew 477 sorties and
dropped 762 tons of bombs.
The continual night raids on Japanese air bases, combined with the
daylight attacks of our light bombers and fighters, had their effect. For
it would seem that the enemy had intended to operate against India,
not only from second-line airfields in Burma but also from advanced
landing grounds. Because of our air attacks, however, he was forced
to retain his squadrons in rear areas and in Thailand, only moving
them forward in short periods as, for example, in support of his counter-attack in the Arakan. This made it more and more difficult for the
enemy to intercept Allied aircraft over central and upper Burma; it
also restricted the scale of air attack which he could bring against India,
and it enabled our own air force to operate with greater security from
advanced airfields in north-east India, which was important since
they were so few.
Photographic reconnaissance was now required over a wide area—
from Akyab in the west over the whole of Burma, and far beyond to
Thailand and the China coast. To meet this need valiant efforts were
being made by No. 681 Squadron, which was equipped with Hurricanes and Spitfires and a few twin-engined Mitchells for long-range
work. Flying Officer C. B. Wareham, who had already done good
work over Malaya, Flying Officer O'Brien
Flying Officer A. H. O'Brien; born Foxton, 6 Apr 1918; van driver; joined RNZAF29 Sep 1940.
and Warrant Officers
F. D. C. Brown
Warrant Officer F. D. C. Brown; born Christchurch, 26 Oct 1921; tractor driver; joined
RNZAFNov 1940.
and Carpenter
Flight Lieutenant E. E. Carpenter; born Portsmouth, England, 28 Nov 1917; clerk;
joined RNZAFSep 1940.
were pilots with this unit and Flying
Officer Cummins
Flight Lieutenant P. L. D. Cummins; born Dunedin, 13 Jan 1917; joined RAF1938;
transferred RNZAFJan 1944.
navigated Mitchells.
The squadron was based at Alipore, near Calcutta. When an
operation was ordered, pilots would usually be briefed the night
before and then would take off shortly after dawn for one of the
forward landing grounds; there they would ‘top up’ with petrol
before setting out to the assigned target, flying usually between
20,000 and 25,000 feet. The single-engined Hurricanes and Spitfires
were without radio aids and their pilots had to rely mainly on map
reading for navigation. Most sorties involved a double crossing of
the Chin Hills and the mountains along the border between India and
Burma; these went up to 12,000 or 14,000 feet, and in the monsoon
period when storms raged and thick clouds covered the peaks the
photographic pilots faced many hazards.
Such conditions were met by Warrant Officer Brown one day in
June 1943 when he was returning from his twenty-third mission.
Over the Arakan Mountains, when he was already flying at 23,000
feet, he was faced with a wall of cloud stretching across the horizon
as far as he could see and rising another 20,000 feet above him. If he
went down below it there was the strong possibility that he would
strike the mountains, and he had not sufficient fuel to attempt to fly
round or over it. So he decided to plunge through it. What happened
next is best told in his own words:
For twenty minutes I was on instruments with flying conditions becoming
rougher and rougher with the engine continually icing up and losing power,
which could only be overcome by vigorous pumping on the throttle. The
aircraft then struck a series of terrific bumps which sent the instruments
haywire. I could see my Artificial Horizon up in the top corner of the dial,
while the Turn and Bank Indicator appeared, as far as I could see, to be
showing conditions of a spin. Deciding then that I must be in a spin I
applied correction for it, but that was my last conscious thought. As I
pushed the stick forward, there was terrific ‘G’ pressure which forced my
head down between my knees and tore my hands from the controls—then
I lost consciousness. When I came to I was falling head over heels just under
the cloud base, with pieces of the aircraft fluttering all round me and the
main part of the fuselage two or three hundred feet below me, minus the
engine, wings and tail unit. It was turning in a lazy spin and with a big rip
right down the back. My first thought and reaction was to pull the ripcord
of my parachute, without looking to see what could fall on me. Luckily
everything worked out all right, after an anxious moment when I thought
the ‘chute’ wasn't going to open. It did, however, and the pieces of my
disintegrated Spitfire went down, leaving me behind. On taking stock of
my surroundings, I could see that I was about 2,000 to 3,000 feet above an
island which was in the mouth of the Ganges. This put me fairly well on
course, which was fortunate, as I hadn't seen land for over an hour. My
parachute descent didn't last more than two or three minutes, and after
making sure I was going to land in a clump of palms, a strong wind carried
me well over them until I finally came down in a paddyfield, to be dragged
along through the muddy water before I could release my harness.
Brown managed to reach a native village, where he spent the night,
and the next day after a rough journey by bullock cart and native boat
he eventually reached an Indian hospital. Not until some days later
was it discovered that his spine was injured. Before leaving for home,
where he subsequently recovered, Brown heard that a salvage party
had discovered pieces of his Spitfire scattered over an area of twenty
square miles.
* * * * *
As the monsoon developed and storm clouds gathered again over
the mountains in June 1943, roads and tracks through the jungle
country along India's eastern border became waterlogged and impassable and land operations were brought to a virtual standstill. The
RAF, however, although it had to withdraw squadrons from forward
landing grounds, continued to operate. Casualties increased and the
sorties in soaking, bumpy weather, under brown weeping clouds and
over green impenetrable jungles, were anything but spectacular; but all
ranks were sustained by the knowledge that they were doing, as a
matter of regular and normal routine, what the enemy, with better
airfields and better organisation, could or dared not do.
To the lonely garrison at Fort Hertz and to our troops in the Chin
Hills and at Goppe Bazar east of Maungdaw, where the pass had been
washed away, went a steady stream of supplies. In July alone the
Dakotas of No. 31 Squadron flew 286 sorties carrying 784 tons, and
General Giffard, in command of Eastern Army, afterwards declared
that without the maintenance of this air supply, his troops could not
have held their positions through the monsoon. Simultaneously, from
the wet tree-fringed airfield at Fenny, Blenheim bombers continued to
fly out and attack chosen points through which the Japanese were
bringing supplies to their Arakan front. The Blenheims, although
still doing splendid work, were almost worn out and their indomitable
ground crews, short of equipment and spares, had to work long hours
to keep them serviceable. Because no jacks, and frequently no winches,
were available the aircraft had to be armed by hand; bombs were
lifted on to backs that, as often as not, were sore from prickly heat
and somehow the job was done.
Hurricanes continued with patrol and attack and escorted transports
and bombers over enemy territory. Hudsons and Catalinas maintained
reconnaissance along the Burma coast and over the Bay of Bengal;
they sighted few targets but their presence did much towards keeping
the seas clear of the enemy and ensured the safe arrival of our supply
convoys. The Wellingtons and Liberators also kept up their night
attacks in between the storms. With few radio aids to help them on
their long flights, navigators had to rely partly on the stars, which
were not always visible. And strange though it may seem to those
unfamiliar with monsoon conditions, the crews sometimes had to fly
through icy clouds; there were also freak storms at their base, where
at various times a Wellington camp was blown down, damaging the
bombers, and Liberators were lifted bodily into the air so that they
flew backwards across the airfield.
The monsoon went on; and so did the flying. More squadrons
gradually came into the line, some of them equipped with more
modern machines such as the Vultee Vengeance dive-bomber and the
faster twin-engined Beaufighter. Like so many aircraft untried in this
extreme climate, the Vultee Vengeance had at first given trouble and
was withdrawn from operations, but it now returned as a most successful and accurate attack aircraft. Pilots soon became adept at finding
well camouflaged enemy strongpoints, both in the Arakan and among
the Chin Hills. Following one attack at Maungdaw, observers reported
back that: ‘After bombing six funeral pyres were seen’, and on another
occasion they noted with grim satisfaction that ‘six lorry loads of dead
were removed from Razabil.’
The Beaufighters, ranging farther afield than the Hurricanes,
attacked road, rail and river traffic. The latter was a highly profitable
target since the Japanese were making full use of Burma's many
waterways. And before long the remains of four river steamers and
hundreds of sampans and small river craft littered the banks and sand
bars of the Irrawaddy and its tributaries. So successful were the Beaufighters in these operations that they quickly earned the name of
‘Whispering Death’; for the Beaufighter had a trick of remaining
silent at low level until it was almost upon its target. It is recorded
that on one sortie a Beaufighter came upon a full-dress parade of
Japanese troops at Myitkyina, on the birthday of Emperor Hirohito.
The troops were standing, rigid, round a flagpole from which fluttered
the Rising Sun of Japan. In front of them were their officers seated
stiffly on their horses. By its silent approach the Beaufighter caught
the parade unawares and in a few moments it was a shambles. Dead
and wounded men lay strewn on the brown earth, riderless horses
galloped in panic among the bodies, and the flagpole was hit and the
Rising Sun lay drooping in the dust.
During the whole period of the 1943 monsoon, from July to October,
the RAF flew nearly 8000 sorties. Forty-two aircraft were lost. Nearly
all these casualties resulted, not from enemy action, but from the
treacherous climate and the bad flying conditions. Some machines
crashed in the mountains and their crews were either killed or lost in
the jungle—for a green bomber crashing in the green sea of tropical
forest stood little chance of being found. Of the aircraft which came
down in the Indian Ocean, just over half the crews were rescued,
mainly through the efforts of the long-range reconnaissance squadrons
since, as yet, an air-sea rescue organisation was not developed. Despite
the losses and difficulties, however, air operations during the monsoon
had been well worth while. Our troops and outposts had been kept
supplied by air transport and valuable experience acquired in the
technique of supply by air. Determined attacks on enemy bases had
driven the Japanese Air Force back and our own army and air bases
remained unmolested. And the continuing assault on communications,
particularly on such important points as Akyab and Rangoon, had
hindered their use by the enemy.
During this same period the Japanese Air Force had flown only
411 sorties from its bases in Burma and Thailand. Their interception of
our bombing raids never presented a serious problem and they showed
little inclination to develop strategic operations against India. But it
is now known that, apart from the pressure exerted by our bombers
from India, the Japanese Air Force was handicapped by calls made
upon it from elsewhere. In particular, Allied successes in the New
Guinea area had necessitated the withdrawal of both fighters and
bombers from Burma. The air situation in South-east Asia was thus
becoming more favourable for the Allies, and during the next few
months the RAF was quick to seize every opportunity for pressing
home its advantage and winning command of the air. Such indeed
was the essential preliminary to any military operations aimed at the
recapture of Burma.
New Zealand airmen had continued to play their part. They flew
fighter patrols and bombing raids into Burma, transported men and
supplies, reconnoitred enemy territory and patrolled over the Indian
Ocean from bases in India and Ceylon. They were also active in various
ground duties. It is, moreover, interesting to record that of the 300
aircrew from the Dominion serving with the India Command during
1943, nearly 200 were pilots.
Three New Zealanders had the distinction of leading RAF squadrons
at this time. They were Wing Commanders L. G. W. Lilly, Maddox
Wing Commander R. G. Maddox, AFC; born Dunedin, 24 Jul 1913; fitter and turner;
joined RAF28 Nov 1937; transferred RNZAF1 Jan 1944; commanded No. 99 Sqdn,
India, 1943–44.
and McClelland.
Wing Commander N. McClelland, OBE; RAF; born Sydenham, 20 Jan 1913; joined
RAF1937; navigation staff, AHQ Far East, 1941; navigation staff No. 222 Group,
Far East, 1941–43; commanded No. 205 Sqdn, India, 1943–45.
Lilly continued in command of Hudsons, which
did splendid work on sea reconnaissance and then in the carriage of
mail and freight; Squadron Leaders E. J. Henry and Hawkins
Squadron Leader A. O. Hawkins; born Kohukohu, 18 Nov 1918; costing clerk; joined
RNZAFJul 1940.
were
his flight commanders. Wing Commander Maddox, Who had previously
served as a flying instructor in Canada, was in charge of a squadron
of Wellington bombers. During November 1943 his squadron logged
over 750 hours' flying, mainly at night, against such targets as Akyab,
Taungup, Prome and the Irrawaddy port of Sagaing near Mandalay.
McClelland controlled a Catalina flying-boat squadron which operated
from Ceylon over a wide area of the Indian Ocean, from the Maldive
Islands right across to Aden and south to Mauritius. During his early
service with the RAF McClelland had specialised in navigation, and
under his guidance the squadron reached a high standard in that
difficult art. This was well demonstrated early in May when two
lifeboats containing seventy-six survivors from the motorship Ocean
Hope were located in the vastness of the sea and duly rescued. And
it was shortly after McClelland assumed command that the first of a
series of record-breaking long-distance flights was made by a Catalina
of No. 205 Squadron, bringing the first airgraph letters from Australia.
The flying boat flew from Perth to Ceylon in twenty-four hours,
covering a distance of 3040 miles, which was no mean achievement
for those days, even in a Catalina!
Taking a prominent part in the work of air transport were Flight
Lieutenants King
Flight Lieutenant T. A. J. King; born Rotorua, 22 Sep 1917; chemist; joined RNZAFOct 1939.
and McKenzie,
Flight Lieutenant J. P. McKenzie; born Christchurch, 17 Jul 1917; engineer; joined
RNZAFMar 1941.
who captained Dakotas of No. 31
Squadron, and Flight Lieutenants J. Davidson, E. F. Page and Flying
Officer R. G. Mellsop, pilots with No. 194 Squadron. King and
McKenzie were among the first RAF pilots to fly the famous ‘Hump’
route to China and for one period of three months they averaged two
trips a week. ‘Taking off from Dinjan,’ writes one of them, ‘the
Dakotas climbed steadily and within twelve miles of base we would
be over mountain country. Crossing the Patkai hills between India
and Burma, still climbing high over the Hukawng Valley, we would
usually be flying blind as we approached the next range of lofty peaks
on the Chinese border. It was a long flight but there was little opportunity for relaxation particularly during the monsoon period when
terrific electrical storms would crash round the mountain peaks with
lightning slashing through the fearsome clouds beneath us. Neither
Indo-China nor South China was a pleasant country to fly over. If an
aircraft were forced down it was little more than a week before the
jungle swallowed it. The wreckage would be overgrown in a matter
of days.’
For fighter pilots the monsoon months of 1943 had been less eventful.
It was, in fact, a period of restricted activity, since ground operations
on both sides were limited to patrolling; moreover, Japanese aircraft
had seldom put in an appearance over the frontier. Often the Readiness
Flight would be scrambled to intercept approaching aircraft, but almost
invariably ‘the bogey’ turned out to be friendly. Occasional sorties in
support of army patrols and attacks against ground targets helped
relieve the monotony, and in such operations No. 67 Hurricane
Squadron, still predominantly a New Zealand unit, was able to play
a leading part. Typical of the antidotes to inaction was that found by
Flight Lieutenant Buddle of No. 155 Mohawk Squadron, who
captained the unit's rugby football team which dealt successfully with
numerous challenges from army teams in their area.
The Beaufighter and Vengeance crews that ranged widely over
enemy territory saw more action. Warrant Officer J. S. France, who
flew with No. 27 Squadron, was among the first Beaufighter pilots to
operate over Burma. On a typical sweep along the Mandalay-Myitkyina
railway, six engines were hit along with several petrol tankers, and at
Kawlin enemy trucks were raked with machine-gun fire. On another
day France and several pilots shot up ten locomotives, between seventy
and eighty trucks, as well as numerous buildings and water tanks
along the line.
Flying Vengeance dive-bombers on frequent low-level attacks were
Flight Lieutenants Metherell
Flight Lieutenant D. W. Metherell; born Auckland, 9 Jul 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF26 Oct 1939; killed on air operations, 15 Dec 1943.
and Sutherland,
Squadron Leader I. A. Sutherland, DFC, m.i.d.; born Auckland, 11 Apr 1913; tanner;
joined RNZAF1 Sep 1940; commanded No. 8 (RIAF) Sqdn, 1944; killed in flying
accident, 28 Jun 1945.
both of whom led
flights in No. 82 Squadron. Flying Officer R. A. Turton and Sergeant
Matthews
Flying Officer S. Matthews; born Hamilton, 30 Nov 1920; farmhand; joined RNZAF27 Jul 1941.
also flew regularly with No. 45 Squadron and Warrant
Officer Mcllroy
Flying Officer D. M. McIlroy; born Christchurch, 9 Dec 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF1 Sep 1940.
and Sergeant McMath
Flight Lieutenant J. J. McMath; born Invercargill, 30 Jan 1921; clerical cadet; joined
RNZAF15 Jun 1941.
with No. 110 Squadron.
The dive-bombers did good work against enemy positions cleverly
sited under the shelter of steep ridges, where artillery fire could not
always reach them. By attacking such positions from the rear they were
often able to cause consternation and casualties among the Japanese.
It was while leading such an attack against bunkers and trenches in
the Akyab area that Metherell's aircraft was shot down by anti-aircraft
fire. ‘Metherell's leadership,’ wrote his Commanding Officer, ‘always
showed great skill and determination. He was a great character on the
squadron and if any one man was responsible for its success and high
morale it was surely this officer who always had a laugh and a joke
for everyone.’ And it may be added that this was by no means an
isolated example of the reputation already established by Dominion
airmen in the RAF squadrons with which they served.
New Zealanders had also served in various ground duties. Indeed,
during this and the following year, nearly one hundred men were
thus engaged and they included administrative, planning, operations,
equipment, technical and medical officers. Several held senior posts.
Group Captain Morshead,
Air Commodore V. D. Morshead; RAF; born Feilding, 27 Nov 1906; joined RAF1926; permanent commission 1936; engineer duties; MAP, 1940–43; India and SE
Asia, 1943–45; SESO, SE Asia, 1945.
for example, was Officer-in-Charge of
Aeronautical Inspection, and as such played an important part in the
expansion programme; he subsequently became Senior Engineering
Officer on the Research and Supply Staff, where among the many
problems with which he grappled was that of damp penetration in
equipment and aircraft.
Two other officers who made a useful contribution in the technical
field were Wing Commanders Brickell
Wing Commander R. G. Brickell; born Dunedin, 30 Jul 1908; engineer; joined RAFFeb 1940.
and Tiffen;
Wing Commander G. M. Tiffen; born Gisborne, 9 May 1910; student; joined RAFJul 1940.
Brickell had
served with the RAF during the early days in France and was later
interned in Algeria for two years. There were also men like Group
Captain Mason,
Group Captain R. H. Mason, OBE; born Weybridge, Surrey, 10 Sep 1918; joined
RAFSep 1938; permanent commission 1945; served with RAF Mission to Russia on
port equipment staff, 1941–43; staff duty, Admin. Plans, India, SEAC, and ACSEA,
1943–45.
who was on the Planning Staff, and Wing Commander
Stewart,
Wing Commander J. G. Stewart, MC, m.i.d.; born Invercargill, 7 Aug 1890; medical
practitioner; served with the RFC and RAF in 1914–18 War; joined RAF18 Sep 1940;
President, SMEC, 1941; President, No. 10 CMB, CME, 1941; SMO No. 11 Fighter
Group, 1941–42; SMO Nos. 22 and 225 Groups, India, 1943; SMO, HQ Bombay,
1943–45.
who served as a Senior Medical Officer throughout the
campaign.
A more unusual post was held by Wing Commander Baird.
Wing Commander R. W. Baird, OBE; born Wellington, 10 Aug 1917; solicitor; joined
RAFJul 1941; transferred RNZAFOct 1944.
He
was in charge of Postal Services in India for two years and then of a
forward mail centre at Imphal, where he did much to improve the
distribution of mail to front-line units.
New Zealanders also served as aircraft technicians, radar mechanics
and ground wireless operators. These men often worked under conditions of extreme hardship, sometimes at remote outposts that were
completely cut off during the rainy season. The work done by the men
of the radar or forward signals units on the India-Burma frontier was
amongst the most completely detached that RAF men were required
to do anywhere in the world. Their posts were spaced at twenty-mile
intervals along the Arakan Yomas and in the Chin Hills. Before the
monsoon broke the crews would set off to their various assignments—
usually places with only a map reference for a name—carrying with
them enough supplies to last through the monsoon, together with
such books and comforts as were available. At the outposts deer
stalking and growing vegetables helped to pass the time, and they
discovered that in the humid climate peas could be eaten within three
weeks of planting the seeds.
From time to time pilots were also employed in various non-operational roles. Squadron Leader J. T. Strang, for example, was
in command of the Ferry Control Unit at Allahabad, where aircraft
of all kinds flew in from Karachi, 900 miles to the west, and were
briefed, fitted and despatched as reinforcements to the forward areas.
Pilots were posted to ferrying duties for rest between operational
tours and they were allotted to aircraft according to their experience
with the various types. During 1943 some forty New Zealanders
spent periods with the unit. They were kept well occupied as an average
of 120 aircraft were ferried across India each month. There were many
other ancillary units throughout the India Command in which New
Zealanders served for short periods. For the most part such work
went unheralded and unsung, but it all played a part in the build-up
of the RAF and the eventual turning of the tide against the Japanese.
CHAPTER 14
Air Superiority and the Arakan Battle
EIGHTEEN months had now passed since General Alexander's
army, defeated and dispirited, had dragged its exhausted way into
India to take post on the frontier and await the expected onslaught of
the victorious Japanese. Eighteen months had also gone by since the
last few bullet-ridden Hurricanes had flown back with bamboo skids
instead of tail wheels and pilots who looked as tired as the patched-up
aircraft they coaxed into the air. They had been long, hard and difficult
months in which it seemed little had been accomplished. Yet, despite
a good deal of frustration and disappointment, the foundations were
slowly but surely being laid for the eventual resurgence of Allied power
in South-east Asia.
Nowhere was this more certain than in the air forces. In March 1942,
precisely four airfields with all-weather runways and modern operational facilities had been serviceable in the command. Now, in
November 1943, there were 285 airfields completed, with more under
construction; and on them bomb stocks and petrol, oil and lubricants
had been accumulated and communications established. Simultaneously, two organisations had been built of whose work little was
said at the time, but without which the fighters and bombers could
not have flown. They were the repair and maintenance units, which
lay behind the squadrons, and the thin essential web of the early
warning system which lay ahead of them like a protective screen.
In the peak month of the 1943 monsoon, despite a persistent shortage
of equipment, spares and essential tools, the base repair units had
accepted and made serviceable 314 airframes and 210 engines. Along
the Assam-Burma border in the Calcutta area and other possible
targets along the coast of India, a network of some seventy radar
stations had been built, with observer posts deployed in front of them;
and filter rooms had been established at focal points to accept the
information from both these sources and to pass it on to the fighter
control. Such development and construction extended to all phases of
the operational, supply and training organisations and it had been
achieved against a background of heartbreaking monsoon storms,
unskilled native labour, inadequate material and constant setback.
The building of airfields had proved particularly difficult, for many
of the regions where they were required consisted largely of hills and
swamps, with no adequate means of getting material to selected sites;
there was also little metal available in the country so cement and road
metal had to be imported, or else coal brought in to bake bricks which
could be laid to provide all-weather surfaces.
The air forces had expanded with the airfields. In India and Ceylon
the RAF now had forty-eight squadrons and these were equipped or
re-equipping with more modern aircraft. Mohawk fighters, which had
given valiant service but were now out-dated, were gradually being
replaced and the number of Hurricanes and Beaufighters was steadily
increasing. Ready for the new offensives were several hundred
Vengeance dive-bombers, a few more Liberator heavy bombers and,
although their special value in this campaign was not yet fully realised,
the number of Dakota transport aircraft had risen to near the hundred
mark. The Americans had similarly raised their striking power in
India and by the end of November were ready to operate with seventeen
squadrons.
The steady, if rather slow, build-up of Allied strength was not,
however, accompanied by rising spirits among our troops and airmen.
On the contrary, by the end of the 1943 monsoon there were widespread feelings of despondency and depression; indeed, the main
thought of the solitary men at the observer posts, no less than those
at the airfields and in the crowded bases, was ‘When will the blooming
war end?’ This was understandable. For in the year and a half that
had now gone by since the black days of the retreat we had nowhere
succeeded in recapturing territory from the Japanese. During the
previous monsoon there had been some glib talk of ‘Tokio by
Christmas’, and it had ended in a fruitless raid in Arakan and the
melancholy withdrawal of Wingate's columns after a brief spectacular
thrust. Both airmen and soldiers were aware of the steadily growing
strength of our forces but they had grown cynical with waiting; they
felt they were members of a forgotten army, which was true enough
since, apart from the Wingate expedition, the efforts they had made
and the difficulties they faced had received scant recognition. The men
also knew that some of our equipment was already out-dated—for
example, the best fighter the RAF possessed was still the Hurricane
and it was no match for the latest Japanese types.
But two things now occurred which changed all this. One was the
arrival of the first of many consignments of Spitfires—the RAF's best
contemporary fighters—which, as presently to be related, soon put an
end to Japanese domination of the air. The other was the creation of
the Supreme Allied Command, South-east Asia, with Admiral Lord
Louis Mountbatten as Supreme Allied Commander. The Supreme
Allied Command was decided on by the British and United States
Governments in May 1943 at the Washington Conference. In August,
at the first Quebec Conference, Lord Louis was appointed, with
responsibility over all Allied forces in South-east Asia. This brought
the promise of new resources, and a sense of greater urgency and
cheerful optimism to the conduct of the whole campaign.
Mountbatten—at 43 years of age he was the youngest Supreme
Commander in the field since Napoleon—had gone to sea at the age
of 16 as a midshipman and saw service in surface ships and submarines.
He continued to serve in the Royal Navy after the First World War,
and during the Battle of Crete was commanding HMS Kelly and the
5th Destroyer Flotilla. The Kelly was sunk but he was one of the
survivors. He then commanded the aircraft carrier HMS Illustrious,
and later became Chief of Combined Operations and a member of the
British Chiefs of Staff Committee. He was thus well-equipped for his
task. Now he was to control what was intended to be a united force
of British and Americans intent on one object, the destruction of
Japan. For the device of his new command, Mountbatten chose the
Phoenix, that fabulous and fierce bird of Greek mythology which arose
from the ashes of the fire which would have destroyed anything less
adamantine. This choice of emblem was not only touched with a sense
of poetry but would also seem to have been inspired by the gift of
prophecy.
From the outset, however, many difficulties beset the new
commander, not least of which were the incredibly complicated
Anglo-American-Chinese command systems with which he had to
deal and the divergent national views regarding future strategy in
South-east Asia. There is here a story of considerable historical interest,
particularly in view of subsequent events in the Far East, but it lies
outside the scope of this narrative.
See Mountbatten's despatch and Churchill's Second World War, Vol. V, pp. 493–5. See
also United States Official History, The Army Air Forces in World War II, Vol. IV,
Chap. XIII, and the British Official History, Grand Strategy, Vol. V.
Suffice to say that Mountbatten
achieved a large measure of success in one of the most difficult
commands of the Second World War. Like Montgomery in the Middle
East, he quickly realised the value of personal contact with his troops
as a means of restoring morale and arousing enthusiasm for the
coming battles. Within a few days of reaching India, he set out to visit
front-line units, and there, standing on a lorry or on an ammunition
box before assembled battalions or air force squadrons, but more
often chatting with a group of men by the roadside, he told them of
his plans and declared his confidence in their ability to defeat the
Japanese and fling them out of Burma, Singapore and the Far East.
Indeed, the theme of his talk was always to fight. And after eighteen
months of almost continual reverse and frustration his promises of
vigorous action came like a cool breeze on a hot, humid day and
tired, dispirited men took fresh heart.
With the air forces, this new offensive spirit was at once given
practical expression in the combining of all British and American
forces in South-east Asia under the command of Air Chief Marshal
Sir Richard Peirse. There was now to be one Tactical Air Force, one
Strategic Bomber Command, and the transport units of both the
Royal Air Force and the United States Army Air Force would merge
in a single organisation known as Troop Carrier Command. Operations
over Burma were to be controlled by an Eastern Air Command and
this would be led by an American, Major-General George Stratemeyer,
a man of great vigour and with a keen desire to engage the enemy.
He was also a forceful exponent of the need for close Allied co-operation. ‘We must merge into one unified force,’ he declared in a
memorable Order of the Day, ‘in thought and in deed, neither English
nor American, with the faults of neither and the virtues of both. We
must establish in Asia a record of Allied air victory of which we can
all be proud in the years to come. Let us write it now in the skies
over Burma.’ How well and gallantly this exhortation was fulfilled
the campaign was soon to show.
The fight for air control on the Burma front had already been
renewed in October 1943 as forward airfields dried out after the
monsoon rains. Towards the end of that month Japanese bombers,
escorted by fighters, began a series of intermittent raids on our Arakan
bases and airfields along the Manipur front; they also increased their
reconnaissance flights over India, employing the new and fast Dinah
for this purpose. Our fighter pilots did their best to intercept and
destroy the intruders but they had only limited success. The high-flying Dinahs were in fact more than a match for our Hurricane and
Mohawk fighters, which achieved their best performance at low
altitudes. When, by nearly bursting its engine, a Hurricane did succeed
in shooting down one of them, the Japanese treated it as a lucky chance
unlikely to recur and they continued to fly arrogantly above the height
our Hurricanes could reach and photograph everything they desired.
Their immunity was, however, short-lived. By the middle of
November the RAF had re-equipped one of its squadrons with newly-arrived Spitfires. They were only Mark Vs, but within a few days of
taking the air they shot down three Dinahs in turn, to the great joy
of airmen and soldiers alike. Two more squadrons were soon re-equipped with Spitfire Vs, and along with the Hurricanes they began
to take toll of enemy raiders. By the end of December, twenty-two
Japanese aircraft had been shot down for the loss of thirteen of our
fighters.
An outstanding success was achieved by No. 136 Squadron on
New Year's Eve, when enemy bombers with fighter escort attempted
an attack on shipping off the Arakan coast. Twelve Spitfires were
scrambled to intercept, and after breaking through the Japanese
fighter screen they fell upon the bombers, still flying true and level
in a large ‘V’ formation. One by one they shot them down on each
side of the flight until only one aircraft was left, and then there was
none. The fighters were dealt with less formally but with equal success,
and scarcely a single machine from the enemy force escaped without
some damage. Only one Spitfire was lost and its pilot, after baling out,
was machine-gunned by an enemy fighter, but so intent was the
Japanese pilot on killing his victim that he flew his machine into the
ground. Another unusual incident occurred during the battle when
two of the enemy fighters collided in mid-air and crashed in flames.
In an effort to recover the initiative the Japanese brought up more
fighters. They also introduced new tactics, employing decoys with a
mirror finish and conspicuously shiny jet-black aircraft, which flew
in low while well camouflaged fighters waited above. In the fierce
fighting which followed, one Spitfire leader had an amazing escape.
‘On my eighth attack,’ runs his report, ‘I was on to a decoy when I
was jumped by a couple I had not seen. I went into an inverted spin
and blacked out completely. I came to and thought I was in hospital.
Then I discovered I was about to crash, put the Spit. the right way
up and I fainted again. I was very near the jungle when I recovered
the second time and found two Japs were firing immediately ahead
of me. I darted down some gulleys and so lost them.’
Wing Commander A. N. Constantine, a fine Australian pilot and an inspiring leader, who
survived the war only to be killed while flying medical supplies to the Javanese.
But our pilots continued to hold the advantage they had already
won. On 15 January, for example, Spitfires intercepted fifteen Oscars
just south of Buthidaung and, without loss to themselves, shot down
six of them and damaged several others. A few days later they destroyed
seven more enemy machines over Maungdaw for the loss of only two
Spitfires. At the end of February 1944, the Japanese admitted the loss
of 142 aircraft in their operations against India during the previous
five months.
New Zealand fighter pilots took a prominent part in all this. They
flew with the Hurricane and Mohawk squadrons which bore the
brunt of the early defensive battles, and they were among the first
to operate successfully in the new Spitfires.
Five veterans who achieved a large measure of hard-earned success
with No. 67 Hurricane Squadron were Flying Officer C. V. Bargh,
Flying Officer E. H. Beable, Warrant Officer Elliott,
Flying Officer C. W. Elliott; born Dunedin, 29 Feb 1916; warehouseman; joined RNZAF19 Jan 1941.
Flight Lieutenant
A. A. Cooper and Flying Officer G. A. Williams. They were in action
towards the end of November when the Japanese raided airfields in
the Chittagong area. Bargh was the first to sight the enemy and led
the squadron down to 15,000 feet and in among the enemy fighter
cover. In the whirling dogfight which followed, he shot down one
of the enemy while Elliott and Beable hit and damaged two more.
Brief details of Bargh's combat are thus recorded:
Bargh made two rolling attacks on the starboard aircraft from astern,
starting from 300 yards and breaking away at 50 yards, firing a short burst
in each case. On breaking away and upwards from the second attack, he
was dived upon head-on by another fighter. Bargh turned sharply to starboard and pulled out clear of his attacker. At this point he noticed a Hurricane being chased by an army O1 a few thousand feet below him. Bargh
manoeuvred until he was vertically above the two aircraft and then dived
to attack the enemy in another roll from dead astern. The ‘O1’ pulled sharply
to port with pieces falling off each wing tip and from the fuselage. It then
spiralled straight into the ground near Barkal Island, where a sudden cloud
of black smoke was seen to rise.
No. 67 Squadron was back at Alipore when the Japanese made one
of their rare appearances over Calcutta, and although pilots were
scrambled to intercept with only short warning, several of them made
contact with the enemy. Flight Lieutenant Cooper fired a burst at one
Japanese fighter and shot away part of its starboard wing. Flying
Officer Williams followed up earlier successes by destroying one and
damaging another of the enemy. He first saw the bombers beneath
him on his port side, with fighters spread out above and on both sides.
Five O1s just below him were evidently quite oblivious of his presence,
so he fired a long burst at one of them. Large pieces flew off the enemy
machine, which went down in a vertical spin to be later confirmed as
destroyed. Williams then fired at another enemy machine which passed
through his sights and saw strikes along its fuselage. At this point
another enemy fighter appeared on his tail so he flick-rolled away
from his attack, but one of his ailerons had been shot away and, as a
result, his Hurricane went spinning down for 12,000 feet. Nothing
daunted, Williams pulled out and climbed again in time to attack
another O1, which was on its back during a roll. Unfortunately by
this time, however, he had only a few rounds of ammunition left and
saw no result.
Flying Officer Greenwood
Flight Lieutenant L. H. Greenwood; born Timaru, 15 Nov 1922; assistant storeman;
joined RNZAF7 Sep 1941.
and Flight Sergeant Walker
Flying Officer J. P. Walker; born Armadale, Aust, 25 Aug 1921; salesman; joined
RNZAF9 Feb 1941.
were
prominent in patrol and attack with No. 261 Hurricane Squadron.
In one of the early raids on Chittagong, while still climbing to intercept,
‘they went straight for the Japanese bombers in an attempt to upset
their aim before their fighters could get down to help them. Both
pilots got long bursts into the targets they selected. Walker's fell away
from the formation and was claimed as a probable. Greenwood was
unfortunate in being jumped before he completed his attack and had
to dive away with his cockpit full of glycol and the engine belching
smoke. He baled out and landed in the hills north of Chittagong and
although wounded in the leg got back to his airfield the same evening.’
New Zealand Spitfire pilots played their part with equal skill and
courage. One of them, Flying Officer Weggery
Flight Lieutenant S. L. E. Weggery; born Palmerston North, 8 Dec 1920; clerk; joined
RNZAF9 Feb 1941.
of No. 615 Squadron,
scored the first Spitfire victory on the Burma front. On patrol at
25,000 feet, he sighted a Japanese reconnaissance Dinah, immediately
gave chase and, overhauling the enemy plane fairly easily, shot it down
in flames over Chiringa; so close did he approach his target to make
sure of a kill that, when he landed, his Spitfire was covered with oil
from the exploding enemy machine. A few weeks later Weggery
destroyed another Dinah about fifty miles east of his base at Dohazari.
Flying Officer C. G. Beale, Flight Sergeants R. J. Clarke,
Flying Officer R. J. Clarke; born Gisborne, 23 Dec 1920; gas fitter; joined RNZAFApr 1941.
V. K.
Jacobs and J. Rudling deserve special mention for their work with
No. 136 Squadron, and Flight Lieutenant Verry
Squadron Leader B. T. Verry; born Feilding, 13 Nov 1915; clerk; joined RNZAF1 Dec 1940.
and Pilot Officer
Chandler
Flying Officer H. A. Chandler, DFC; born Granity, 19 Oct 1918; clerk; joined RNZAFOct 1940.
with No. 615 Squadron. John Rudling, already distinguished
for his work in Hurricanes, showed a particularly fine aggressive
spirit. One day when twelve Spitfires were scrambled to intercept
Japanese bombers at extreme range from their base, he and another
pilot were the only ones to make contact with the enemy. Rudling
made contact literally. He was just about to turn for base when he
sighted the bombers, and although his petrol gauge looked ‘none too
healthy’ he immediately turned towards them. Selecting the nearest
bomber Rudling dived to the attack. ‘I observed strikes on the enemy's
wings,’ he afterwards reported, ‘and then I suddenly realised we were
going to collide. I broke sharply away above, but felt my aircraft hit
the rudder of the bomber. Thinking I had damaged my aircraft for
further attack I turned away but it was all right so I pulled up under
another vic of bombers and fired from underneath at the leader.
During this attack a fighter was on my tail and put five shells through
my wings and oil tanks before I broke away.’ Rudling's dinghy and
Mae West were torn by shrapnel but he was uninjured. He also had
the satisfaction of seeing the bomber with which he had collided hit
the ground and explode before he force-landed on the nearest strip—
without flaps or brakes. His Spitfire ended up on its nose but did
not catch fire—possibly because when Rudling landed there was
scarcely any petrol left in its tanks. This episode occurred on Boxing
Day and only a few hours earlier, on the previous evening, Rudling
had played the main part in his squadron's Christmas pantomime,
which appropriately enough was ‘Aladdin’.
These fighter victories which came at the end of 1943 were the
turning point in the struggle for command of the Burma skies. More
hard battles remained to be fought during the next few months but
the ultimate issue was no longer in doubt. For the RAF was now
strengthened by the arrival during January of two more Spitfire
squadrons, both equipped with Mark VIIIs, whose performance was
superior to anything the Japanese possessed; American fighters were
also beginning to operate with marked success against Japanese
attacks on the Indo-China air route; and both bombers and long-range
fighters were striking at enemy air bases with increasing effect. The
importance of this ascendancy now being gained over the Japanese
in the air can scarcely be over-emphasised. It was undoubtedly the
most potent single factor in the progress of all subsequent operations
in Burma. Without it our land forces could not have received such
strong and close support during the defensive battles of 1944 and in
their final advance; furthermore, our transport aircraft on which so
much was to depend could not have delivered their supplies without
constant risk of interception.
Looking back, it now seems fairly clear that there was a certain
amount of vacillation by the Japanese regarding the employment of
their air strength available in Burma at the end of 1943. Although they
had nearly 100 bombers at their disposal, they mounted few attacks on
strategic targets. Their only real success was a skilful raid against
Calcutta in December 1943, when they eluded the Spitfires based at
Chittagong by keeping well out to sea and beyond their range. But
this episode was not repeated, possibly because their army commanders
were generally averse to air operations other than those directly
concerned with the situation on the ground. It would also appear that
air operations over Burma had been given a lower priority by the
Japanese High Command, for the bulk of their Air Force was now
committed to the South-west Pacific. Although at the beginning of
1944 they still had some 740 aircraft in South-east Asia, these were
spread over a fairly wide area from Indo-China and Malaya to Burma.
Some of the best pilots were retained in Sumatra for the defence of
the oil refineries there and for patrol work over the Indian Ocean.
Fifth Air Division in Burma had barely 400 aircraft, of which about
half were fighters. These were already fighting a losing battle and
would soon be unable to give anything like adequate support to their
ground forces.
The Allies, on the other hand, continued to build up their air strength.
By March 1944 they had about 1000 aircraft of all types in North-east
India, of which 600 were fighters. Their total force comprised 92
squadrons, and of these 64 were Royal Air Force; they included seven
fighter units equipped with Spitfire VIIIs, a further twenty armed with
Hurricane fighters and fighter-bombers and seven more equipped with
Vengeance dive-bombers and Beaufighters. The others were mainly
Liberators, Wellingtons, Beauforts and Catalinas for long-range
bombing or sea reconnaissance, along with Spitfires for photographic
work. In the transport field, however, the RAF strength had only just
reached five squadrons and one of these had to be used for the maintenance of internal air services.
New Zealand representation in these various RAF units continued
to increase steadily during 1944. As in previous years it was strongest
in the fighter force, where seven RAF squadrons were commanded
by Dominion pilots for various periods. These included such veterans
of the Burma campaign as Squadron Leaders Geoffrey Sharp, D. J. T.
Sharp and J. M. Cranstone,
Squadron Leader J. M. Cranstone, DFC; born Wanganui, 24 Apr 1918; farmer; joined
RNZAFDec 1940; commanded No. 5 Sqdn, 1944–45.
each of whom led Hurricane fighters.
Squadron Leader M. R. B. Ingram, in command of a Spitfire squadron,
and Squadron Leader W. H. Stratton, who led Hurricanes, had both
brought their units from the Middle East, where they had already
achieved a notable record of service and also in operations from
Britain. A squadron of Vengeance dive-bombers was led by Squadron
Leader I. A. Sutherland, and in the general reconnaissance force
Wing Commander N. McClelland continued in charge of Catalina
flying-boats and Wing Commander R. G. Maddox of Wellington
bombers. An important contribution to the work of transport and
supply was made by the Dakota squadron led by Wing Commander
R. T. Chisholm, who had already done good work as a transport
pilot in the Middle East. And there were men like Squadron Leader
Price
Wing Commander A. J. Price, AFC; born Napier, 22 Jan 1920; student; joined RNZAF25 May 1941; commanded No. 21 Ferry Control, 1943–44.
who, after long service on ferry work, now commanded a unit
engaged on such duties.
As well as these unit commanders, a number of New Zealanders
led flights in the bomber and fighter squadrons. Over one hundred
Dominion pilots flew Spitfire and Hurricane fighters and there were
fifty more who captained bomber, transport and reconnaissance
aircraft, with others flying photographic and air-sea rescue machines.
There were also more New Zealanders among the RAF ground staff.
During periods of intense fighter activity they and their comrades
were up all night, at work under the stars, servicing and refuelling
the aircraft and removing the penetrating dust from the engines.
Many had had malaria or dysentery, some several times, and most had
lost weight; they deserve to share the achievements of the aircrews
they served. Life with the squadrons on the Burma front continued
to be anything but a picnic, even after long-overdue improvements
had been effected in living conditions and in such simple amenities
as the delivery of mail from home. But there were compensations.
For example, near some of the airstrips in the south there was clear
warm sea to bathe in and long firm sandy beaches where men, tired
of riding the breakers, could lie in the sun or bask in the shallows.
And the brief months of the Indian winter brought cool, bright nights
after the monsoon heat, then sparkling days with streamers of mist
reaching out from the jungle and over the airstrips.
* * * * *
At the beginning of 1944 the task ahead of the Allied forces in India
was formidable. For the Japanese were still masters of a vast defensive
arc covering their early conquests, which stretched from the jungle-covered mountains of northern and western Burma through some of
the most forbidding fighting country in the world, then across the
sea to the Andamans and the great Dutch islands of Sumatra and Java.
Mountbatten, with his experience and enthusiasm for combined
operations, was eager to launch an amphibious assault against southern
Burma, but shortage of landing craft and pressure from the Americans
caused this project to be postponed. The Americans were in fact much
more anxious to establish strong links with the forces fighting the
Japanese in China than to recapture Rangoon. They pressed the
importance of reconquering northern Burma first, and quickly, so
that a road could be built from the existing rail and roadhead at Ledo
through the jungle and mountains into Chinese territory. Eventually,
after much discussion both in London and Washington, as well as
among the Allied commanders on the spot, three operations were
decided upon. They were as follows:
Allied forces, including the Chinese-American army under
General Stilwell, were to advance in the north from the
headwaters of the Chindwin River towards Myitkyina.
The roadmakers would follow. In the meantime, capture of
the three airfields at Myitkyina would enable transport
aircraft from India to China to be routed through them,
thus shortening the distance and, by avoiding the 23,000 feet
climb over the ‘Hump’, considerably increasing the tonnage
delivered.
A British force led by General Wingate was to be flown into
the interior of Burma to disrupt Japanese communications,
especially those along which they were operating against
General Stilwell.
British 15 Corps under General Christison was to advance into
the Arakan with the object of clearing the Maungdaw
peninsula, at the same time containing Japanese forces in
that region of Burma.
The Japanese, however, also had their plans. Indeed they were now
preparing two separate offensives from Burma—the first eastwards
across the Salween to drive back the Chinese and prevent the Allies
re-establishing land contact with China; the other westwards against
Imphal in Manipur in order to cut the Bengal–Assam railway on
which the ‘Hump’ air route and General Stilwell's army relied for
supplies.
The result of these conflicting Allied and Japanese plans was a series
of dramatic clashes along the whole India–Burma front during the
first half of 1944.
The first clash came on the Arakan front. Here, covered by RAF
fighters and bombers, 15 British Corps under General Christison had
begun its advance down the Arakan coast early in January and, to
guard against any attempt by the Japanese to move round the eastern
flank, 81 West African Division had been sent down the Kaladan
valley behind the next range of mountains. During its advance this
division was kept supplied entirely by air, a task which No. 62 Squadron, RAF, fulfilled with particular efficiency, its Dakotas flying in
their loads thrice daily. ‘This was the first time a normal formation
such as a division was to be committed to complete air maintenance.’
Slim, Defeat into Victory, p. 165.
Such regular aerial supply would have been impossible had the Japanese
been able to maintain fighter patrols over the Kaladan. That they did
not do so was due to the constant air guard maintained by the Spitfires
and Hurricanes and to the frequent air attacks on enemy airfields by
our bombers—in a word, to our air superiority. ‘Zeros tumbled out
of the sky or scuttled back.’
Ibid., p. 236.
The advance of Christison's main force down the Mayu peninsula
continued until one early February morning, when Japanese soldiers
suddenly came screaming out of the mists near Taung Bazar, which
lay nine miles behind our lines; there they surprised and slaughtered
some of the troops covering a divisional headquarters, whose
commander and staff had to fight their way out in hand-to-hand
conflict. This was the beginning of a determined enemy counter-attack and it came from all directions. For the Japanese, displaying
superb skill at camouflage and concealment which defeated even our
most vigilant air reconnaissance, had succeeded in passing the best
part of a division through the jungle behind our troops, who now
found themselves surrounded or with their communications threatened.
As in previous similar situations, the enemy fully expected that our
troops would at once begin to withdraw. But they did nothing of the
kind. Instead they stood their ground in such places as the famous
‘Admin Box’ and stubbornly fought it out. They were able to do
so because the enemy had overlooked one fact—supply by air. In the
next three weeks RAF Dakotas, aided by some American C46 transports lent from the ‘Hump’ route, delivered over 2000 tons of
ammunition, food, petrol, oil and medical supplies to the British forces
trapped on the Arakan front; they also flew out more than 5000
casualties; and such was the vigilance of the fighter escort that only
one Dakota was lost. This achievement wrecked Japanese plans and
turned what might well have proved the beginning of a victorious
campaign, ending perhaps only at the gates of Delhi, into a resounding
defeat. For by the end of February the Japanese troops were themselves
short of food and ammunition. Unable to overwhelm our forward
positions, continually dive-bombed and gunned in their bunkers and
then pressed by our relieving forces driving down from the north,
they broke up into small parties and began to fight their way back
through the jungle. Behind them on the battlefield they left more
than 5000 dead. Thereupon 15 British Corps, having put an end to
the legend of Japanese invincibility, regrouped its units and resumed
its advance.
Our air superiority was undoubtedly the decisive factor in this
Arakan episode. For the struggle between the opposing armies
depended upon the maintenance of their lines of supply; the British,
having transferred theirs to the air which they now commanded,
were secure while the Japanese, because they had lost control of the
air, were vulnerable and their troops were starved into retreat.
In the early stages the enemy air force tried hard to wrest the air
advantage from us, sending over as many as eighty fighter sorties in
a single day. The enemy formations consisted mainly of highly
manoeuvreable Oscars, Hamps and Zekes, but there were also a few
of the new Tojo fighters which, at lower altitudes, were almost as
good as the Spitfire VIII. The Japanese pilots exploited the manoeuvreability of their machines to the full, often choosing to fly at
surprisingly low speeds in order to achieve quick evasive action and
then turn on their attackers. But our Spitfires were equal to the
challenge and, helped by a greatly improved warning system, they
repeatedly intercepted and broke up the enemy formations. On one
notable occasion No. 136 Squadron caught fifteen Oscars just south
of Buthidaung and, without loss, shot down six of them and damaged
several others. By the middle of February, our fighter pilots had
destroyed a total of twenty-four Japanese aircraft and damaged a
further thirty-eight for the loss of only four Spitfires. Meanwhile
Japanese bombers rarely appeared over British positions, while our
own cannon-firing Hurricanes and Vengeance dive-bombers were
making continual attacks on the enemy's forward positions and
Beaufighters and Wellingtons were striking at his communications
far behind the area of battle.
Flight Lieutenant Verry and Flying Officer Chandler of No. 615
Squadron, Flying Officers Beale and John Rudling with No. 136
Squadron, and Flying Officer A. M. Peart, Flight Sergeants Ryan,
Warrant Officer J. P. Ryan; born Dunedin, 9 Nov 1921; insurance clerk; joined RNZAF7 Sep 1941.
W. J. Robinson and A. F. Swan of No. 81 Squadron were among
those who saw action during the campaign as Spitfire fighter pilots.
Chandler had a remarkable escape during one of the early air battles
when the Hamp at which he had been firing exploded as he pulled
up over it. His Spitfire was flung right over on its back by the force
of the explosion and for a few moments Chandler thought he had
‘bought it’. A more typical combat was fought by Beale when his
squadron intercepted a formation of Zekes and Oscars near the battle
area during the first week. ‘Beale,’ says the record, ‘went for a Zeke
in the centre line but, noticing the outside rear enemy machines
turning outwards and climbing to come in astern, he switched his
attack to one of these. Firing two long bursts he saw strikes all along
the fuselage but had to break away as another Zeke came in behind
him. Beale then climbed and made a second attack on the formation
but the outside aircraft again made a stall turn and fired at him. Once
more Beale returned to the attack, closing in from astern. This time
he saw hits on the engine of the rear enemy aircraft which rolled away
and went down. By now several fighters were after him but he was
able to shake them off and return safely to base.’
New Zealand pilots played their part in the strafing and bombing
of enemy strongpoints and communications; they also escorted the
supply dropping aircraft. From the outset Squadron Leader Stratton
and his pilots of No. 134 Hurricane Squadron were in the thick of
the battle engaged on both these duties; so were men like Pilot
Officers McPhail
Flying Officer J. D. McPhail; born Wanganui, 6 Nov 1920; woolclasser; joined RNZAF26 Jul 1941.
and Pirani
Pilot Officer F. B. Pirani; born Wellington, 17 Jun 1923; clerk; joined RNZAF17 Aug
1941; killed on air operations, 18 Feb 1944.
and Flight Sergeant Miller.
Flying Officer C. R. Miller; born Otakau, 26 May 1922; labourer; joined RNZAF6 Jul 1941.
With No.
82 Squadron, Flight Lieutenant Sutherland proved himself a particularly successful leader of Vengeance dive-bombers; flying with him
were Pilot Officers Couttie
Flying Officer G. T. Couttie; born Dundee, Scotland, 10 Jun 1922; coppersmith;
joined RNZAFJul 1941.
and Parker
Flying Officer A. E. Parker; born Motueka, 28 Mar 1921; civil servant; joined RNZAF22 Dec 1940; killed in flying accident, 20 Oct 1944.
and Warrant Officer
McCombie.
Warrant Officer K. E. W. McCombie; born Taihape, 25 Sep 1915; farmer; joined
RNZAFOct 1939; killed on air operations, 15 Mar 1944.
In these ground-attack operations a technique was soon evolved
which proved as successful as it was ingenious. When the Army had
decided that a position was to be attacked, the RAF would bomb it
beforehand, sometimes with bombs set with instantaneous fuses,
sometimes with delayed action fuses of anything from five minutes to
several hours. By mixing these bombs they kept the Japanese constantly
under cover for they never knew when one would go off. On the day
of our ground attack the RAF would drop bombs with no fuses at all,
and while the enemy troops were cowering in their foxholes waiting
for these to explode, the British infantry would arrive and fall upon
them with the bayonet. Another ruse was to make bogus fighter
strafes, the fighter aircraft diving on the Japanese positions but not
firing their guns, and thus keeping the enemy down while our own
infantry went in. There were variations on these two main themes
whose main object was to get our infantry over the last 300 yards where
they were most vulnerable.
Thirty-five New Zealanders, seventeen of them captains of aircraft,
flew with the Dakota squadrons that carried supplies to our Arakan
troops. They included such experienced pilots as Squadron Leader
R. D. Daniell with No. 117 Squadron, Pilot Officer Bayly
Flying Officer J. Bayly; born Waitara, 18 Mar 1917; electrician; joined RNZAF Oct
1939.
in No. 31
Squadron, Flight Lieutenants Voss
Squadron Leader P. S. Voss; born Malvern, England, 3 Aug 1921; farmer; joined
RNZAF1 Dec 1940.
and Hore
Flight Lieutenant R. R. Hore; born Dunedin, 15 Jul 1920; farm cadet; joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
with No. 62 Squadron,
and Flight Lieutenants J. Davidson and R. G. Mellsop who flew with
No. 194 Squadron.
The Dakota crews worked hard throughout the campaign, often
making two or three sorties each in a single day. No. 62 Squadron's
missions down the Kaladan valley in support of the West African
Division were a severe test, for the jungle in that region is even thicker
than elsewhere in Burma, while the air over the mountains is noted
for its turbulence and for the presence of treacherous cumulo-nimbus
cloud formations. Yet somehow pilots contrived to find their way
over the featureless hills and to manoeuvre their machines through
the narrow valleys. ‘We went at low level down the river bank,’
writes one pilot, ‘flying in line astern, and then the flight commander
would find the dropping zone. Harder than that was trying to find a
regular circuit on which we could drop. Usually we each needed to
go round about eight times to push out the entire load of supplies
and the gorges made it difficult. We had to get low down for the
dropping and then if there was a hill in front of us it meant pretty
well tearing the guts out of our engines to climb over it. The up and
down currents were really terrifying and often we felt that the aircraft
was not climbing at all and that we should crash.’ When the West
Africans reached the lower part of the Kaladan, more open country
was encountered where strips were hastily built to take the Dakotas
and the task of air supply became somewhat easier. Some landings
were made by day under cover of Hurricane escort, but more often
the Dakotas landed at night with the help of improvised flare-paths
and guiding bonfires. Their loads might be anything from guns and
ammunition to live bullocks and bullock carts.
Troops and airmen were soon on terms of mutual friendship and,
indeed, affection. On those occasions when it was possible for a Dakota
to land, the West Africans would flock around the aircrew with lively
expressions of regard, and when landing was impossible they took
the greatest care of the supplies that were dropped by parachute. One
of them indeed, noting with regret that many of the hundredweight
bags of rice burst on landing, went so far as to try to catch a bag as it
descended. Unfortunately he succeeded and at once became a passenger
in one of the Dakotas detailed to fly out the more severely injured.
After the campaign a notable tribute was paid to the crews of both
supply and close-support aircraft by the commander of 81 Division.
‘No words of mine,’ he wrote, ‘can do justice to the achievements of
the R.A.F. in support of the Division. Their faultless supply dropping,
the skill with which they landed their Dakotas on our air strips in
rapid succession, the devotion of the Moth pilots in evacuating
casualties, the promptitude and accuracy of their air strikes, the
plentiful supply of air photographs which they provided, together with
the air letter service and daily message dropping, taken together
constituted an outstanding effort of co-operation.’
Supply missions to our forces fighting in the Mayu peninsula were
carried out with equal skill and courage. Here, during the critical
weeks, RAF Dakotas made 440 sorties by day and a further 185 by
night. In the early stages there were some anxious moments when
enemy fighters were reported in strength over the dropping zone,
and throughout the whole period there was constant danger from the
characteristically accurate small-arms fire of enemy detachments
ensconced nearby.
Flight Lieutenant Voss and his crew had an eventful sortie in mid-
February. While making their second dropping run, the Dakota was
hit by fire from the ground. An oil tank was holed and a few moments
later the port engine seized up. Voss ordered his crew to heave out
the remaining supplies and then, on one labouring engine, managed
to climb the aircraft sufficiently to scrape over the Mayu Range and
land at a forward strip near Ramu. By skilful airmanship he thus
saved his crew, and what was equally important, a precious aircraft,
for Dakotas were still scarce in South-east Asia Command. How
scarce is shown by the efforts made to salvage them. ‘After one pilot
had run off the flarepath in darkness and damaged his machine,’ says
a squadron record, ‘maintenance men were flown in before daybreak.
The starboard elevator was replaced and the other knocked into shape
by vigorous use of a hammer as also was the tail plane. The machine
was then dragged back on to the strip and taken off with the stick
fully back to prevent the elevators trailing on the ground.’
The conditions under which crews operated over the Arakan were
certainly arduous. No. 117 Squadron, which had just arrived from the
Middle East, found that its new spell of work effectively changed two
established conceptions. ‘In the first place the routine load of 7,500 lbs.,
plus 500 gallons of fuel was unheard of in our Middle East experience
and it gave us an unhealthily close acquaintance with the tree tops at
the end of the strip. Secondly, our ideas of what constituted a normal
dropping zone went by the board when we began dropping in narrow
valleys, jungle clearings and the odd hollow in the hills.’ Probably
the hardest part of these flights came during the half hour or so that
the aircraft was over the dropping area. The side door was usually
open throughout the sortie, and as they approached their ‘target’ the
despatchers would be busy placing the load in neat piles. As he came
over the dropping zone the pilot would bank the aircraft and lift the
tail to ensure that the parachutes would not tangle with it, then give
the signal to his ‘kickers’. One man would lie flat on his back, feet
pressed against the load and shoulders pushing on the opposite wall.
When the signal came he thrust with his feet against the base of the
load while two more men on either side of the door helped the pile
out with their hands. As the aircraft made another circuit the despatchers
positioned the next load near the door. It was hot work and, in the
turbulent air near the ground, often dangerous. Here is a description
of a typical sortie written by a navigator of No. 62 Squadron:
Fully laden, the squadron aircraft taxied out to the end of the runway
and in less than a minute all were airborne, heading for the front-line outpost which was our objective. Soon we were well above the clouds and the
fierce sun made the interior of the aircraft extremely hot.
After flying steadily for two hours we were met by a squadron of Hurricanes which was to escort us to our dropping point. We now passed over
rocky desolate country. As far as the eye could see hills up to 3,000 feet
zigzagged awkwardly over the horizon and the jungle beneath, a densely
variegated maze of green sprawling between the valleys, was no place for
a forced landing. Eventually we broke formation and descended to fly in
line astern, playing ‘follow my leader’ through the valleys and among hills,
skimming over ridges and above rivers until our formation leader began
circling a hill a few miles ahead. Parachutes in the first two aircraft had
already landed where the troops were waiting for them. Our turn came and
we began our run.
I sat in the co-pilot's seat and watched our crew in the fuselage, stripped
and sweating, as they piled the packages, which contained 47,000 cigarettes,
6,000 boxes of matches, tinned milk, biscuits, cooking oil, salt, beans and
peas, oatmeal, sugar, tea, medical supplies, solid fuel, tommy cookers, jam,
cheese, curry-powder and onions, at the exit ready for the second run. They
worked like coolies. Five packs were poised ready, with another five ready
directly behind, each weighing from 80 to 140 lbs. They were usually in
tins, with a small parachute on top enclosed in a cover and with twelve feet
of rope fastened to an attachment inside the aircraft. The crew were secured
by safety belts tied to a longeron.
‘Red light on’, shouted the flight sergeant near the tail and the crew got
ready. A bell rang urgently and everybody heaved like mad to get the thirteen
packages out before the bell rang again three seconds later. This process was
repeated until the last package had been dropped whereupon we circled to
make sure the load had landed safely, and then set course for base.
Before we reached Chandina a radio message ordered us to land at a
forward airfield to pick up six urgent casualties. We therefore set course
south, still escorted by our faithful Hurricanes, two flying close in to ward
off any sudden attack, while four others criss-crossed in and out of the
clouds searching for enemy fighters. Soon we saw the landing strip below
us with its small wind sock hanging from a bamboo pole. We touched down
to pick up our cargo while the Hurricanes patrolled above. Eight stretcher
cases were put on board and when they were made comfortable we took
off, joined the waiting fighters and set course for base. There, ambulances
were waiting to take the wounded to hospital.
During the Arakan fighting, the Dakotas had to supply more than
the normal demands of men and weapons. Three times areas of
‘Ammunition Hill’, which stood in the centre of the ‘Admin Box’,
were blown up by Japanese artillery and the entire stores had to be
replaced by air. There were also times when the margin of air supply
for ground requirements was perilously fine. One crew who carried
tank shells watched their load float down and then, while the pilot
made succeeding circuits, saw the shells being raced across the area
of the ‘Admin Box’ to waiting tanks, and before they left on the return
flight they saw the ammunition being fired. Such incidents encouraged
the aircrews to redouble their efforts, so enabling our troops to withstand all attacks of the enemy and finally drive him back in the
frustration of retreat.
CHAPTER 15
Operation thursday and the Victory at
Imphal
SCARCELY had the Arakan battle ended when the main scene
of activity shifted abruptly to the central and northern fronts.
Here, both sides had already begun to press forward with the second
phase of their conflicting designs. The Japanese, seeking to drive
behind the main British army in Manipur, had sent two divisions
northwards through the hills and jungle towards Tiddim and Tamu,
and a third against Ukhrul. The Allies, bent on an advance that would
restore their land link with China, had launched an army under General
Stilwell southwards from Ledo towards Myitkyina and were preparing
to land troops from the air behind the Japanese force that opposed him.
As these various movements developed there came hard fighting
along the whole front, but it was in the Manipur region that the main
clash occurred. Here, on the very threshold of India, large Allied and
Japanese forces became involved in a desperate struggle, which is best
remembered for the bitter fighting which took place around the
little town of Kohima and the long-drawn-out battle for possession
of the Imphal plain. Only after four months of stress and strain did
the Allies finally emerge victorious, once again thanks largely to the
intervention of their air power. This was probably the most eventful
and fateful period of the whole Burma campaign.
The first main task of our air force was to support Wingate's Second
Chindit Expedition in its operations behind the Japanese armies in
North-east Burma. Wingate's force comprised some 12,000 men, most
of whom were to be landed from the air at two remote jungle clearings,
‘Piccadilly’ and ‘Broadway’, which would at once be converted into
fortified bases for large-scale action against enemy roads and railways
in the vicinity. This involved flying in not only mobile columns and
garrison troops, signal installations, ack-ack and 25-pounder batteries
for jungle fortress defence, but also engineer units equipped with
bulldozers and mechanical graders to construct airfields capable of
handling a regular air supply service.
D-day for Operation thursday, as this unique enterprise was
known, came on Sunday, 5 March 1944. It nearly began and ended with
disaster. Barely half an hour before the first gliders and tugs were due
to take off from Lalaghat an air reconnaissance—carried out, incidentally, against Wingate's orders—reported that the jungle clearing at
Piccadilly was obstructed by rows of huge logs hidden in the long
buffalo grass. Had landings been attempted there, very heavy casualties
and loss must surely have resulted. Fortunately Broadway still appeared
clear, and after a hurried conference on the airfield it was decided to
send the whole force there. Even so, there was great anxiety among
those who watched that evening as the long aerial train carrying the
advance party took off in a whirlwind of dust and, with the overloaded gliders bouncing, swaying and straining, set course over the
mountains towards the heart of enemy-held Burma. Their misgivings
were well justified. In the turbulent air several tow ropes parted almost
immediately and four gliders crashed into the jungle only a few miles
from Lalaghat; three more broke loose east of the Chindwin and two
east of the upper Irrawaddy. Another eight failed to reach Broadway
but several of them staged an admirable, if accidental, diversion by
landing near a Japanese headquarters.
At Broadway itself, several of the first gliders to land were wrecked
by concealed furrows in the clearing, and whilst strenuous efforts
were being made to drag them away other gliders came swinging in
to land on top of them. The wreckage piled up and more new arrivals
crashed into it. ‘The jungle seemed suddenly to go mad,’ says an
observer. ‘At one moment the gliders were silent, graceful black
shapes sliding serenely through the night and then there were collisions
and great hollow explosions like the pop of paper bags as the box-like
structures hit; the rip and tear of trees as bulldozers and graders tore
loose and ran amok; and the cries of trapped and wounded men.’
One glider loaded with a bulldozer and other heavy equipment
whipped over sharply to avoid a wreck, only to plunge into the wall
of surrounding jungle. On either side the trees tore off its wings, the
fuselage rushed on with its load, by now wrenched loose from its
moorings. When the fuselage halted at last the bulldozer continued
its momentum and worked the hinge by which the pilot's seat was
swung upward to let the vehicle drive out. Pilot and co-pilot were
thrown into the air, the bulldozer shot out beneath them and they
landed back unhurt. But others were less fortunate and there were
grim scenes as the medical teams amputated and bandaged by the light
of acetylene flares. Soon the confusion was such that a message had
to be sent for the operation to be halted. Not until late the following
day, by which time some 400 British soldiers under the expert guidance
of American engineers, and using such bulldozers as had survived the
initial landings, had succeeded in hacking and stamping a runway,
did a message reach anxious, straining ears at Lalaghat reporting that
Broadway was ready to receive further aircraft. Thereupon, with early
misfortunes overcome and the enterprise saved, the transport squadrons
began their task of delivering the main body of troops, the pack animals
and equipment.
That night forty-one RAF Dakotas and twenty-four American
C47s flew to Broadway and the gallant band of men waiting on the
jungle clearing witnessed an amazing scene as there, far behind the
main Japanese army, heavily laden aircraft circled with navigation
lights shining and came in to land on an improvised flare-path under
the orders of a control set up in a wrecked glider. Air Marshal Baldwin,
Air Marshal Sir John E. A. Baldwin, KBE, CB, DSO, Order of the Crown and Croix
de Guerre (Bel), Order of the White Lion (Czech), Air Medal (US); born Halifax,
Yorkshire, 13 Apr 1892; joined 8th Hussars 1911; seconded RFC 1915 and RAF1918;
permanent commission RAF, 1919; AOC No. 3 Bomber Group, 1939–42; AOC-in-C,
India, 1942–43; AOC 3rd TAF, 1943–44.
an early arrival, was so impressed by what he saw that he wrote
afterwards: ‘Nobody has seen a transport operation until he has stood
at Broadway under the light of a Burma moon and watched Dakotas
coming in and taking off in opposite directions on a single strip at
the rate of one take off or one landing every three minutes.’ Thereafter
the transport aircraft continued to come and go in a steady stream;
both gliders and Dakotas also put down in another clearing called
‘Chowringhee’ beyond the Irrawaddy but after a few days, during which
it diverted the enemy's attention, this clearing was abandoned because
of its exposed position. The Japanese, however, remained ignorant
of the Chindits' presence at Broadway for eight whole days and in that
time 9050 men, 175 ponies, 1183 mules and nearly 250 tons of stores
were transferred by air from India to places 150 miles or more behind
the Japanese lines—places which had been reached by the previous
Wingate expedition only after two exhausting months of marching.
The total casualties amounted to 121, all among the occupants of the
first gliders. Not one Dakota was lost. It was an achievement at that
time unequalled anywhere in the world.
As the Chindit columns spread out on their work of devastation
they continued to rely almost completely upon air power, so that
transport, fighter, bomber and light aircraft were kept busy during the
following weeks meeting their various needs. The work of the transport
crews—it involved the loading and delivery of about 125 tons of
supplies daily—was both arduous and difficult. Although three more
airfields for landing Dakotas were established in turn, the greater
portion of supplies had now to be dropped to parties on the move
through the jungle, and because the Chindits were operating in areas
beyond the range of fighter cover, most of this had to be done at
night. To find even a well-lighted dropping zone in the jungle during
darkness required a high degree of navigational skill; map-reading
was, of course, impossible and there were few landmarks by which to
pinpoint one's position. Yet the task was accomplished and no column
went short of its essential requirements. This was largely because of
the sheer determination and skill displayed by the Dakota crews and
the fact that most of them were experienced veterans of night operations,
who had flown so long over the country that they were able to distinguish features which no stranger would observe; there was also an
efficient and hard-working ground organisation to support their
efforts.
Each Chindit brigade had a rear headquarters in India where requests for air supply were
tabulated and passed to the air supply sections. The latter collected supplies from the
railhead, packed them and loaded the aircraft. Co-ordination of the supply for all three
brigades was carried out each morning at a conference where sorties were allocated.
In the field each column passed its requests to brigade headquarters in the stronghold
area and thence to rear headquarters. To reduce the amount of radio traffic each column
carried a small booklet in which, under various headings, was listed every conceivable
requirement from mortar bombs to obscure medical drugs. Opposite each item was a
code number which was quoted in a signal requesting supplies. The supply sections at
the air bases did the rest. For food there was a ‘standard drop’ which never varied.
If the column numbered 400 men, this figure was quoted in a signal for a standard drop
for that number of men, plus any special items which had been quoted from the booklet.
Fighters and bombers gave valuable close-support to the Chindits
both in their offensive activities and during Japanese counter-attacks.
Much of this work was done by American aircraft but RAF Vengeance
bombers, together with Spitfire and Hurricane fighters, also helped as
far as the major battle allowed. One Chindit leader, Brigadier J. M.
Calvert, reported that his formation ‘could not have taken Mogaung
without the assistance of direct air support; the results they accomplished were accurate and decisive.’
This close support, and also the supply dropping, were rendered
much more effective by the presence with each Chindit column of an
RAF operational pilot. Knowing the ground situation and aware of
the difficulties facing his comrades in the air, he was able to help select
the most suitable landing strips and dropping zones and also to guide
the fighters and bombers on to their targets by radio telephone.
During an action he would establish himself in a well-sited observation
post and then talk to the pilots of the attacking aircraft as they
approached, telling them exactly where to place their bombs, and then
he would direct their machine-gun fire; so efficient did this technique
become that long before the end no Japanese battery dared fire if an
aircraft was anywhere about, and the same fear restrained their infantry.
One further service, of supreme value to the men on the ground,
was provided by the air forces. This was the evacuation of casualties.
Whenever the Dakotas were able to land with supplies they took back
sick and wounded, but most of the ambulance work was done by light
aircraft—Tiger Moths, Fox Moths and American Sentinels—which
flew just above the jungle and landed on short strips laid out in any
suitable clearing. Sometimes they lifted casualties from under the
very noses of the enemy and on one occasion forty wounded were
thus brought away, though each of them had to be put on board under
fire. At places where the light planes could not land a few helicopters
were used with some success, even to the extent of carrying stretcher
cases strapped to the outside of the fuselage. Stranger still was the
employment towards the end of the campaign of two Sunderland
flying-boats to evacuate sick and wounded. Their normal work was
anti-submarine patrol from Ceylon but, using the Brahmaputra River
in Assam as a base, they flew over the mountains to alight on Indawgyi
Lake in the heart of the jungle. From there the two Sunderlands,
known almost inevitably as ‘Gert’ and ‘Daisy’, brought out a total
of 537 casualties.
Thanks to patrols maintained by Allied fighters and the enemy's
preoccupation with his own offensive farther north, all these various
operations were carried through with the minimum of loss. But not
without incident. One day a Dakota was set on fire by a Japanese
fighter above ‘Aberdeen’, whereupon the pilot, with no landing gear
and only one engine working, took his burning aircraft down and
made a successful crash landing without any of his passengers being
injured. Another transport was surprised by an Oscar, which drove
home its attack so closely that it collided with the Dakota's tail, shed
a wing and plunged to earth; the RAF pilot landed his own aircraft
safely and was awarded ‘one destroyed’. In the early stages Japanese
aircraft made several raids on the Chindit bases in Burma but they
caused only slight damage and did not interrupt operations. A flight
of Spitfires was based at Broadway to intercept the raiders, but after
some success it was put out of action through lack of early warning.
Attacks were then made on the airfields from which the Japanese
fighters were operating, and about fifty of them were destroyed or
damaged on the ground; thereafter enemy air activity was negligible,
and with our own fighters constantly on patrol the Chindit leaders
were able to plan their moves without fear of attack by hostile aircraft.
Thus, in brief, did the air forces contribute to the Second Wingate
Expedition—an operation which eventually accounted for more than
5000 of the enemy many miles behind his main armies, in the heart
of a country he had dominated for two years; and although all the
objectives were not achieved and the cost in men, material and effort
was high, the position of the Japanese forces in the north was, as week
succeeded week, rendered more and more serious through the dislocation and blocking of their supply roads and railways. As the 1944
monsoon approached, some of the Chindit columns moved north to
join Stilwell's advance towards Myitkyina. Others were flown back
to India. On landing there more than one bearded British soldier,
worn and tired after months of hard fighting and marching, was seen
to turn back for a moment to the Dakota which had brought him out
and give the fuselage a friendly pat—mute recognition of what he and
his comrades owed to these sturdy aircraft and their devoted crews.
Major-General Orde Wingate did not survive the campaign he had
instigated. On the morning of 24 March a pilot returning from patrol
saw through the rain a brief flame on a Naga mountain. It was Wingate's
aircraft. After a visit to Broadway he had insisted on being flown back
through the storm. His battered topee was found near the scene of
the crash.
Spectacular though they were, the Chindit operations were not the
chief concern of our air forces during these months. Their main effort,
and especially that of the Royal Air Force, was devoted to the support
of 4 British Corps in its desperate struggle on the Manipur front.
Signs had not been lacking that the enemy was planning to attack
Imphal. Various alternatives were considered to meet this impending
threat. The one adopted was ‘to concentrate 4 Corps in the Imphal
plain, and fight a major battle there to destroy the Japanese Fifteenth
Army.’
Slim, p. 291.
An important consideration was ‘our supremacy in the air
and the ability it gave me to use air supply’.
Ibid.
On 6 March, the Japanese opened a strong offensive whose ultimate
aim was nothing less than ‘definite victory in India’. In the first fortnight they captured Tiddim, Tamu and Ukhrul and then, moving
through most difficult country with remarkable speed and agility, they
cut the main road to India by way of Dimapur and laid siege to Kohima,
the little town which commands the pass to the Assam valley. Imphal,
our main base for the whole central front, was thus completely isolated
and its capture became the enemy's immediate objective. This town,
built in the midst of the only fertile plain among the border mountains,
stood athwart the main line of communication by land between India
and Burma and its possession was vital to any invading force. With
the Imphal plain in their hands, the Japanese would be able not only
to attack our bases and airfields in the Surma valley but also to interrupt
the vital Assam line of communications on which General Stilwell's
forces and the air supply route to China depended. Such indeed was
the enemy's intention, but he reckoned without the intervention of
the Allied air forces.
Immediately the threat to Imphal and Kohima became apparent,
transport aircraft carried out a series of remarkable and highly
important operations which, in view of what followed, probably saved
the day. The first was the lifting of a whole division—men, guns,
mules, vehicles, equipment and all—from the Arakan front far to the
south and flying them into Imphal; urgently needed reinforcements,
which would have taken weeks to travel by road and rail and would
almost certainly have arrived too late, thus reached the scene with the
minimum of delay. One gunner regiment is reported to have come
out of action in the Maungdaw area of Arakan one day, travelled the
following day to the airfield at Dohazari, spent the night taking its
guns to pieces and the next day was airborne; a day later it was in
action east of Imphal in the heart of the siege. The whole task required
758 sorties, and these were flown by Dakotas of No. 194 Squadron,
RAF, and by twenty American Commando aircraft—the latter withdrawn from the ‘Hump’ supply route to China to augment Troop
Carrier Command's small and already overworked force of transport
planes. In similar fashion, transport aircraft took in 50 Parachute
Brigade, two strong Indian battalions flown from the Punjab and a
brigade from 7 Indian Division. Two other brigades from the latter
division went to reinforce 33 Corps at Dimapur and another infantry
brigade was taken from the Calcutta region to Jorhat in Assam. All
were impressive air lifts for those days; the latter, for example,
involved the movement of 3056 men, together with nearly 100,000 lb.
of stores, 50 motor-cycles, 40 jeeps and 31 trailers, sixteen 25-pounder
guns and eight 3.7-inch howitzers.
The timely arrival of these additional troops meant that the Japanese
were faced by a much stronger force than they had anticipated; but it
also meant that a much larger force was now encircled by the enemy
and somehow it had to be fed and supplied. To this task the transport
squadrons at once addressed themselves and heavily laden Dakotas
began lumbering up the valley from Dimapur to Kohima and over the
mountains to Imphal, where they cast down their loads of ammunition,
food and medical supplies to the beleaguered garrisons. At Kohima it
was also necessary to drop containers of water, for here fierce fighting
quickly developed and the aircrews saw with dismay the Japanese
steadily closing in until they had captured most of the small straggling
town. Soon everything had to be dropped in one very small area known
as Summer House Hill, the only possible place still in the hands of the
defenders. This made the task of supply both for those in the air and
those on the ground extremely difficult, and before long the pine trees
covering the hill were festooned with parachutes, whose containers
dangling beneath could only be collected at night by men crawling on
their bellies and, as often as not, encountering Japanese intent on the
same errand. The only supplies they could be certain of receiving were
those which fell near or directly into the slit trenches which began to
scar the hill. Yet the garrison at Kohima held on courageously, helped
in their resistance by Hurricane fighter-bombers and Vultee-Vengeances,
which struck hard at the enemy's positions around the town and also
at his dumps and camps beyond. ‘To see them roaring in low, the
whole place rocking with the noise of their engines and then above
this sound to hear the loud voices of the bombs, renewed our hearts
every time them came,’ declared a sergeant of the Assam Rifles. The
battle for Kohima continued until 20 April, when the garrison was
relieved by units of 2 British Division pushing up the Manipur road
from Dimapur.
The struggle for Imphal lasted much longer and it became essentially
a battle of supply and endurance. At the beginning of April the
Japanese had felt certain of victory. ‘The investment of Imphal is
complete,’ boasted Tokyo radio. ‘Owing to lack of ammunition the
sound of the enemy's guns is weakening. When the last shot is fired
Imphal will automatically fall. The fate of IV Corps, supplied by a
scared and dwindling air force, is sealed.’ But in the first fortnight of
April that scared and dwindling air force flew more than 10,000 sorties
—one third of them by transport aircraft. At the same time 4 British
Corps, dramatically reinforced from the air as it had been, was able to
confine the Japanese to the hills surrounding the plain, thus ensuring
the delivery of further supplies and, what was equally important, the
operation of Spitfire and Hurricane fighters from the six airfields it
contained. The enemy was thus cheated of an early victory but the
situation of our forces at Imphal remained serious. One hundred and
fifty thousand men were now surrounded by the enemy with very
little hope of early relief, and they would have to be maintained solely
from the air. They needed somewhat more than 400 tons of stores a
day and these must be brought into a valley ringed by the guns of
the enemy.
In the following weeks, the transport squadrons and their ground
staffs did their utmost to fulfil this commitment but they were unable
to do so completely. For one thing, the strength of Troop Carrier
Command and its ground organisation was barely sufficient to meet
current needs which, it must be remembered, included the supply of
Wingate's forces in Burma, the support of Stilwell's advance in the
north and also the Arakan front, where the West African Division in
particular was still being sustained almost entirely by air. In March
1944, all this was being done by eight Dakota squadrons—about 130
aircraft—with temporary help from the twenty American Commandos
borrowed from the ‘Hump’ route to China. Only with great difficulty
did Mountbatten secure approval to retain the twenty Commandos for
a few weeks and then the reluctant loan, limited at first to a month, of
seventy-nine Dakotas from the Middle East. And, even with this
additional help, it became necessary towards the end of the siege to
bring in bomber aircraft to help carry ammunition.
On top of this the monsoon broke earlier and with greater violence
then expected, converting any but all-weather airfields into bogs and
covering the vast areas of mountains with dark forbidding cloudbanks.
For pilots flying towards Imphal, looking for some tiny crack or
break in the cloud through which they might descend into the plain,
it was a nightmare. A fifty-square-mile plain among 25,000 square
miles of hills and valleys is not easy to find on a clear day. Under
monsoon conditions it became extremely difficult and at times well-nigh impossible. Pilots sometimes made three or four attempts from
different directions, but not infrequently they were unable to penetrate
the storms and heavy clouds which hung over the surrounding
mountains. A few, fortunately very few, made their descent through
a break in the cloud and, misjudging their position, flew into the side
of a hill.
In an effort to reduce the frustration and congestion caused by
aircraft returning with their loads, an advanced staging post was set
up at Kambhigrum, west of the mountains, from where the accumulated
supplies were flown in whenever the weather cleared. Even so the
troops, airmen and their ancillary services on the plain consumed more
than could be brought in to them by air. Accordingly, it was decided
to evacuate from Imphal all those not essential to its defence, and
during May nearly 30,000 men engaged mainly on administrative
duties, together with two entire hospitals and their staffs, were flown
out by the Dakotas. At the same time the strength of the RAF on the
plain was reduced to the minimum—two squadrons of Spitfires, one
of ground-attack Hurricanes and two of Hurri-bombers.
These measures relieved the situation considerably, but although
our forces at Imphal had sufficient supplies to enable them to eat and
fight, increasing cloud and storms brought a lean and critical period
at the beginning of June, when the garrison was down to only a fortnight's food on reduced rations and barely a week's supply of petrol.
Then suddenly the weather improved and a determined effort was
made by all concerned. ‘The one all-weather airstrip was soon crammed
with supply aircraft, queues circled in the air waiting to land and
queues waited on the side runs of the strip to take off. As the wheels
of the aircraft touched down or those of outgoing aircraft raced along
the concrete, great sprays of water covered anything within fifty yards.
From dawn to dusk, except on really bad days, the traffic continued
and both troops and RAF personnel worked without rest to move
the supplies.’ By mid-June these were arriving at the rate of nearly 500
tons a day, and this was soon increased to 600 tons in operations
which continued until, and for a short time after, the siege ended.
Thus was the supply battle finally won, but only by a narrow margin.
Yet it was won. And General Giffard, the Army Commander-in-Chief,
afterwards declared: ‘There is no doubt that if we had not had air
supply we should have lost the Imphal plain and the position on the
eastern frontier of India would have been grave ….It is with gratitude
and admiration that I acknowledge the immense debt which the Army
owes to the air.’ Altogether during the Manipur fighting the air forces
had delivered 22,000 tons of supplies; they had also flown in 20,000
reinforcements with their equipment and evacuated 10,000 casualties
and 30,000 non-essential personnel from the Imphal plain. Having
regard to all the circumstances, this was certainly a splendid achievement.
A remarkable feature of the Imphal air supply was that, during the
whole twelve weeks that the siege endured, only two Dakotas and
one Wellington engaged on this duty were shot down. Yet seldom
has an air force had the chance of finer targets than were offered to
the Japanese with up to three hundred slow, unarmed transports
flying daily in full view of them. That they were unable to take advantage of this opportunity was due in large measure to the Allied fighter
squadrons whose activities, notably those of the long-range American
Lightnings and Mustangs against enemy airfields, made it almost
impossible for the Japanese to intervene effectively in the battle at
all. Besiegers though they were, the effort of the Japanese Army Air
Force amounted to no more than 3 per cent of the British and
American, and soon such meagre and sporadic support as it was able
to provide had to come from airfields far to the rear.
At Imphal the RAF Spitfires and Hurricanes entrusted with its
defence were continually on the alert to intercept enemy raiders; they
also escorted the Dakotas on their inward and outward flights. These
tasks became more difficult as the Japanese overran many of the radar
warning posts in the surrounding hills, and it became necessary to
bring back the long discarded system of fighter patrols in order to
cover the two main entrances to the plain. But their vigilance was
rewarded, and on one notable occasion an enemy raid of twenty
Oscars was intercepted and ten of them shot down. The Hurricane
fighter-bombers went out against a variety of targets. Sometimes
these lay in the nearby hills just beyond the perimeter where our troops
were engaged in short, fierce skirmishing with Japanese seeking to
enter the plain. Then the ground crews had the unusual satisfaction,
after rearming and refuelling the aircraft, of seeing them take off, drop
their bombs on the enemy only a few miles away and return for their
next mission. But more often the Hurricanes ranged farther afield
striking at the roads, tracks and bridges leading to Imphal, and at
enemy bases and camps in the country beyond. One squadron
specialised in night operations and became adept at finding enemy
vehicles by the shadows they cast on the roadside when travelling by
moonlight. Frequently, however, it was very difficult for pilots to see
what damage they were doing, especially when in close support of
our troops they aimed at what seemed empty scrubland or unmoving
jungle marked only by a smoke shell. Effective close support was
indeed far from easy, for the enemy was entrenched in well-prepared
positions and the bunkers comprising them were usually strong and
extremely well sited and camouflaged. But the Army appreciated their
efforts. ‘On more than one occasion,’ declared Major-General Cowan,
commanding 17 Division, ‘you were responsible for enabling our
forces to counter-attack in the face of heavy opposition …. I have
well over two years' experience of fighting in this country and can assure
you that you are producing results.’
The conditions under which the air force lived and fought at Imphal
were anything but pleasant. It was a tough routine of bare existence,
with the added discomforts caused by the monsoon. On each airfield
the ground crews and administrative staffs were formed into self-supporting ‘boxes’ for defence, each with its trenches, bunkers and
guns; at night, until the decision to remove some squadrons to airfields
outside the plain was taken, pilots and ground crews took turns at
guarding their own aircraft against attack from enemy parties infiltrating through the wire; and because of the closeness of the enemy a very
strict blackout and complete silence were maintained from dusk to
dawn. With the advent of the monsoon, nothing in the bamboo bashas
or mud and wattle native huts remained dry, and outside gum-booted
airmen squelched through the mud to and from their aircraft at the
dispersal points. Rations were short and the men had to contend with
dysentery, lack of sleep, biting insects and cobras that coiled themselves
around wet things like wash-basins in the darkness; yet for the most
part men accepted the situation, and while there was much ‘binding’
on the plain, there was also a good deal of close fellowship.
Occasionally, there were hectic moments as on that evening when
a pilot on patrol at dusk reported a Japanese battalion on the move
close to Imphal. Pilots and ground crews had just dispersed for the
night when the call to action came. One and all made at once for their
aircraft, some who had been washing, dressing as they ran; within a
matter of minutes thirty-three Hurricanes had taken off and were
over the area through which the enemy had been seen passing. In
the gathering darkness nothing could be seen but the vague outlines
of trees and scrub; then the leading aircraft, flying very low, turned on
their landing lights and in their beams the Japanese column could be
clearly discerned. The Hurricanes went in with bombs, cannon and
machine-gun fire, and though they saw little but dust and smoke it
was later learnt from captured documents that over 200 Japanese were
killed that evening.
The climax of the Imphal struggle came in June. By that time the
Japanese, with their supply lines from Bangkok to the very hills of
Manipur assailed by our fighters and bombers, were themselves
desperately short of food, ammunition and essential stores. Their
troops were dying of wounds and disease, especially in the malarial
Kabaw valley, while only a few miles away Allied casualties were
being carried into air transports and flown out to the hospitals of
India.
Day after day the frustrated and famished Japanese Army, watching
from the peaks above Imphal, could see a stream of Dakotas and
Commandos flying in an increasing volume of supplies to their enemies.
High above them, Spitfires wheeled and circled guarding the entrances
to the plain, and every now and then Hurri-bombers went streaking
across the hills to attack the Tiddim Road or strafe enemy troops and
blow them from their bunkers and foxholes; formations of Vengeance
dive-bombers from more distant airfields passed high overhead on
their way to blast targets in the rear. On the ground 4 British Corps
was beginning to press out from its encirclement, and although the
Japanese clung desperately to their positions in the hills, they were
unable to prevent either this outward drive or the approach of the
strong relieving force which had been slowly fighting its way up the
road from the direction of Kohima. The end of the siege and of the
battles of attrition came on 22 June when a Sikh battalion of 4 Corps,
thrusting north of Imphal, met tanks of 2 British Division moving
up along the Kohima road.
The Japanese Fifteenth Army in Manipur, lacking supplies and well-nigh exhausted by its efforts during recent months, was now faced
with inevitable retreat. To speed its departure and support the advance
of General Slim's British Fourteenth Army therefore became the
immediate concern of the squadrons of RAF No. 221 Group which,
under Air Commodore Vincent,
Air Vice-Marshal S. F. Vincent, CB, DFC, AFC, Legion of Merit (US); RAF (retd);
born Hampstead, London, 7 Apr 1897; joined RFC 1915; commanded RAF Station,
Northolt, 1940–41; North Weald, 1941; Debden, 1941, and Northolt, 1941–42; AOC
No. 224 Group, 1942; AOC No. 13 Group, 1943–44; AOC No. 221 Group, SE Asia,
1944–45.
were based in that area. Dakotas,
Spitfires, Vengeances, Beaufighters and the versatile Hurricanes all
joined in the new offensive, and despite the monsoon, during which
175 inches of rain fell in northern Burma and 350 inches in Assam,
they kept up a sustained and indeed remarkable flying effort.
The Hurri-bombers were everywhere. Down the Tiddim and Tamu
roads they went, attacking the Japanese in their bunker positions and
hideouts, shooting up transport and strafing troops on the move.
Strongpoints were blasted, bridges over chaung and river smashed and
enemy vehicles wrecked where they sheltered in the deep gorges.
During the fighting along the road to Kalemyo, where the forty
hairpin bends winding down the mountainside were known as the
‘Chocolate Staircase’, the fighter-bombers literally went from milestone
to milestone obliterating enemy pockets of resistance in order to ease
the progress of the Army. As the Japanese began to straggle back
across the Chindwin, Beaufighters attacked the river crossings and
then the roads and railways beyond; in vain did the enemy explode
land mines and stretch trip-wires between trees in an effort to destroy
these low-flying aircraft. And all the time the Dakotas continued with
their task of supply. Indeed, from the end of July onwards our advances
along the Tiddim and Tamu roads were sustained almost entirely by
air, while the forces operating from positions in the Lushai Hills
could not have operated without the supplies dropped by transport
aircraft. Individual items were often delivered in record time. A
75-mm pack howitzer for example, weighing 2000 lb., called for by
the Army late one afternoon, was dropped a few hours later with
ten parachutes attached to it and was in action by the early hours of
the following morning. But there were also occasions when it took
days of battling through torrential rain, strong winds and thick clouds
to achieve one single mission. Yet it was done.
Through the drenching rain and clammy heat of the 1944 monsoon,
the squadrons continued to fly and fight, harassing the enemy in
retreat and giving invaluable help to Fourteenth Army. ‘As it was
impossible in the hills to build any landing strips, the 5th Division
became completely dependent on air dropping for all its requirements.
It also relied for direct fire support largely on the fighter bombers of
221 Group, RAF. What this regular air supply and support meant
in skill and strain to the aircrews only those who have flown among
these shrouded hills can judge. Yet throughout the whole of this
monsoon the fighters of Air Marshal Vincent's 221 Group flew over
our troops every single day. I do not think such devotion has ever
been surpassed in any air force, and I doubt if it has been equalled.’
Slim, p. 358.
In the October fighting round Tiddim, where our troops were
delayed by a series of bunker positions and gun posts in the hills
astride the road, the Hurri-bombers intervened with particular effect.
Many direct hits on bunkers were reported and afterwards verified
by 33 Corps, especially in the Kennedy Peak area and around ‘Vital
Corner’, where the enemy was eventually blasted out of positions
hewn in the solid rock of a precipice. Later at Fort White, after an
onslaught by four squadrons of Hurricanes, our troops were able to
make their final assault virtually unopposed. The fighter-bombers also
gave assistance of another kind to the Army when it reached the terrible
Kabaw valley to capture Tamu. The name means ‘Valley of Death’,
and it is reputed to be one of the most highly malarial places in the
world. There they sprayed the whole length of the road with DDT
and this helped to reduce the casualties caused by disease to a very
low figure.
Many were the hazards that faced our pilots and crews during this
astonishing offensive. To reach their objectives they often had to fly
through twisting valleys and over jungle-clad hills that were no more
distinguishable from each other than the waves of a choppy sea; much
of the region was unsurveyed, so men flew on the knowledge that they
had acquired of the mountain formations; but with the monsoon came
cloud and swirling mists, which altered the shapes they knew quite
well, so that piercing a cloud might bring sudden confrontation with
hill or mountainside. Aircraft were even wrecked by the turbulence
of the clouds themselves. One day five Hurricanes returning over the
Chin Hills met cumulo-nimbus clouds of the type which soar from
the ground to 30,000 feet or more, and with their fuel running short
could find no way round. Two of the five came through in a battered
condition, but of the remaining three no trace was found. An even
more tragic misadventure befell sixteen Spitfires of No. 615 Squadron
while flying out from the Imphal plain to Calcutta in August 1944.
When but thirty miles on their journey, they ran into thin cloud
which unexpectedly proved to be the outer fringe of a particularly
vicious storm. Within a matter of seconds the Spitfires found themselves in the midst of it, and so violent was the turbulence that ‘all
the aircraft became beyond human control.’ One was whirled from
5000 to 11,000 feet and the others were tossed about in the blackness
of the clouds like so many leaves. Four pilots, including the squadron
commander, were lost when their machines were torn to pieces; four
more had to bale out and the remaining eight all arrived at their
destination badly bruised and cut about the face and hands in their
efforts to control their aircraft. One of the survivors reported that
he had only just managed to recover after finding himself upside-down
at less than 200 feet above the ground.
In the early stages of their retreat from Imphal the Japanese still
fought fiercely but, harassed from the air and under growing pressure
from a much larger British army, their withdrawal gradually became
a rout. Even the redoubtable Japanese 33 Division, one of their finest
fighting units, cracked after weeks of merciless fighting and took to
the jungle in disorder. Thereafter, scourged by beri-beri, malaria and
dysentery, and forced to retreat through sodden forests and across
swollen streams and flooded rivers, the plight of the enemy became
more and more terrible. What his total losses were will probably never
be known, but on the battlefields around Imphal over 13,000 dead
were counted and these had been slain in battle. The number who
died from wounds, starvation and disease can only be guessed. One
military observer says that ‘the Allied doctors reported groups of
dead Japanese, their skin drawn tightly over their bones, with little
packets of rice which they could not eat or digest hanging round their
necks. Hundreds of bodies were found in Tamu alone. Many of the
Japanese were too weak to carry out their normal practice of killing
their sick and wounded. Near Tamu a complete hospital full of patients
was captured. With a few exceptions they were too weak to commit
suicide. They lay in a daze on the ground or on rough bamboo
stretchers. Some Japanese gave themselves up while others were
captured before they could blow themselves to pieces with hand
grenades. All were numbed by the agonies of the last few months.’
R. McKelvie, The War in Burma.
So ended the Japanese bid for victory in India and with it came the
prospect of their eventual defeat in Burma. For along with the Allied
successes in Arakan and Manipur, General Stilwell's Chinese-American
Army, helped by the Chindits, had made a notable advance in north
Burma. Fighting through terrible country where, despite the magnificent achievement of American engineers in building the Ledo road,
they had to be sustained almost entirely by air, Stilwell's troops had
cleared most of that region of the enemy and in a sudden brilliant
stroke captured the all-important airfield at Myitkyina; then, after a
hard and bitter battle lasting eleven weeks, they had taken the town
itself, thus securing the main Japanese base and the focal point for
road, rail and river communications in that part of Burma. And now
with the enemy also forced back across the Chindwin by the British
Fourteenth Army, the way was open for the reconquest of the central
Burma plain, from which the strong forces we possessed could take
the road to Mandalay and thence to Rangoon.
* * * * *
Through these eventful months New Zealand airmen had shared
in all the various air operations as pilots, navigators, wireless operators
and air gunners. It was perhaps typical of the Dominion's contribution
that in the first night's supply operations to Wingate's Chindits at
Broadway, four of the twelve RAF Dakotas (they were from the
famous No. 31 Squadron) should be piloted by New Zealanders,
with one of them leading the first flight; that a Spitfire fighter squadron
defending Imphal, and Hurricane fighter-bombers which harried the
Japanese down the Tiddim Road, should be led by Dominion pilots;
and that they should fly some of the first RAF aircraft to land at
Myitkyina.
Their part in the all-important work of air transport and supply
was quite substantial, for there were no fewer than thirty-eight New
Zealand captains of aircraft in the RAF's five transport squadrons
and two of the squadrons were themselves commanded by Dominion
pilots. With supply operations ranging over the entire battle area from
the Kaladan valley in the south to the northern outpost of Fort Hertz,
many of these men achieved a remarkable total of missions successfully
completed. Flight Lieutenant J. Davidson of No. 194 Squadron, for
example, flew 161 sorties in the months from February to July 1944—
106 of them to Imphal, Kohima and the Arakan and 55 in support
of General Wingate's Chindits, the latter including thirteen landings
by night behind the enemy in Burma. A similar record was attained
in No. 117 Squadron by Flight Lieutenants D. Gale, B. D. New and
Stephenson
Squadron Leader C. R. Stephenson, DFC; born Auckland, 23 Dec 1919; PWD employee;
joined RNZAF2 Mar 1941.
and Pilot Officer Bridge
Flying Officer M. C. Bridge; born Te Kopura, 30 Jul 1917; grocer; joined RNZAFDec 1940.
as Dakota pilots, and by
Flight Lieutenant Naysmith
Flight Lieutenant J. R. Naysmith, DFC; born Bonnyrigg, Scotland, 4 Dec 1914; clerk;
joined RNZAF13 Oct 1939.
as the squadron's navigation leader.
Other pilots who did fine work were Flight Lieutenant T. A. J. King
of No. 31 Squadron and Flight Lieutenant P. S. Voss who, with No.
62 Squadron, had a narrow escape when his Dakota crashed whilst
taking off from Imphal; and there were navigators like Warrant
Officer D. J. Laloli and wireless operators like Warrant Officer Flaus
Warrant Officer C. A. Flaus; born Invercargill, 24 Feb 1918; timekeeper; joined RNZAFDec 1940.
who flew consistently over a long period.
Their work was both strenuous and hazardous. ‘All our jobs were
mixed up,’ one pilot writes. ‘One day we might take in reinforcements
to Imphal, the next day go to Comilla to collect flour, ammo, and
petrol from the dumps, then pick up a load of men at Imphal and fly
them out; another time we would take casualties from the Kohima
battle and the following day be back over the Kaladan. It meant long
flying hours day after day and I do not think we could have kept it up
except for the feeling of crisis that existed.’ Many of the places to
which they delivered supplies were fringed with hills that were death
traps to aircraft circling low in bad weather; and with a constantly
changing crosswind the final touch-down had its own perils. Unprecedented traffic at all the airfields required an exceptional standard
of flying discipline in order to keep accidents to a minimum. At
Imphal there was so little taxi-ing space that incoming aircraft had to
land in one direction and outgoing transports take off in the other.
The monsoon storms with their treacherous up-currents were also a
constant source of danger. One pilot attempting to land at an alternative airfield in such turbulent conditions found his aircraft suddenly
whisked from 1000 feet to 9000 feet inside two minutes, the fully-laden
aircraft offering no obstacle to the violent up-draughts.
These and other hazards were, however, all accepted as part of the
day's work. ‘We fulfilled our commitments flying double sorties
where necessary until the night of 11 March; then six of our crews
finished the jobs by flying in the ground staff, supplies and spares for
the flight of Spitfires which was to be based at Broadway.’ So runs the
record of Wing Commander Chisholm's No. 117 Squadron concerning
its part in the initial fly-in of Wingate's Chindits. In seven consecutive
nights, crews had flown 106 sorties and carried 1323 troops, 221 mules
and 47 horses, together with considerable quantities of barbed wire,
petrol, oil, jeeps and other items of equipment. This formidable
assortment of passengers and cargo was at first somewhat disconcerting to the men after their more routine work in the Middle East.
‘As the strings of mules came walking down the runway,’ one of them
writes, ‘we cast anxious looks at the aircraft remembering the days
when they carried generals, film stars and other such delectable cargoes
and wondered mournfully what the condition of the cabins would be
at the end of this party. Our anxiety was, however, groundless for
most of the animals took to the aircraft nonchalantly though they were
not above expressing impatience during the period before take-off
by smashing the seats and kicking out the odd window. But only one
of the 268 animals which we carried actually got out of hand during
flight.’
Inevitably in the pressure of relieving a siege while simultaneously
supplying the Wingate and Kaladan troops, there were many unusual
episodes and incidents. One New Zealand Dakota captain, for example,
tells of a remarkable escape when he and another pilot commenced
dropping on the same zone in the jungle unknown to each other. In
the darkness one made a right-hand circuit and the other, owing to
the awkward position of the hills, changed to a left-hand circuit.
They met directly over the dropping zone and it was only due to the
little light provided by the ground flares that they avoided a head-on
collision, one diving almost into the ground and the other climbing
vigorously. Next morning in the mess it transpired that one crew had
overshot their target and only located it after a search; the second pilot
had also arrived late, and both assumed that other aircraft had completed
their sorties.
Misadventure of a different kind befell the crew whose Dakota had
its rudder caught by a parachute with a heavy case attached; after a
crew member had tried, and failed, to shoot off the rigging lines, the
pilot made a successful landing with the load still attached to his
machine. Another RAF pilot who force-landed with a load of petrol
ended up with his wing tip in the open fireplace of a native hut, but
the fire did not spread; and there was the despatcher who was hooked
out of his aircraft by a parachute and floated to earth on a box of
rations.
But the various transport missions were not accomplished without
loss. For example, Flight Lieutenant R. G. Mellsop, after achieving a
fine record as captain of aircraft in No. 194 Squadron, was killed when
his Dakota crashed while carrying reinforcements to the Chindits at
‘Aberdeen’. A member of his squadron writes: ‘Once a pilot was
committed to a landing at “Aberdeen” it was impossible to circuit
again, as the strip was in a narrow valley with steep hills on both sides
and at both ends. Mellsop attempted a second circuit through being
too high on his final approach. The aircraft's landing lights played on
the jungle-covered slopes of the valley as he tried in vain to gain
altitude to go over the top—he and his crew must have known seconds
before the fateful crash that only a miracle could save them yet Mellsop
attempted, in a last valiant effort, to cushion the aircraft on to the
hillside; this action undoubtedly saved the lives of thirteen of the
troops who were towards the rear of the aircraft.’ Another New
Zealand pilot, Warrant Officer Shearer,
Warrant Officer G. H. Shearer; born Alexandria, Scotland, 17 Nov 1918; garage
assistant; joined RNZAF22 Dec 1940; killed on air operations, 23 May 1944.
with his crew failed to return
from a supply mission to ‘Broadway’ and Warrant Officer Orr,
Warrant Officer D. A. Orr; born Christchurch, 15 May 1923; storeman; joined RNZAF25 Feb 1942; killed on air operations, 23 Jun 1944.
wireless operator, was killed when his Dakota, carrying a load of
6750 lb. of petrol, crashed on take-off.
Flight Lieutenant Allan,
Flight Lieutenant G. Allan, MC; born Auckland, 7 Oct 1916; farmer; joined RNZAFJun 1941.
previously of No. 194 Squadron, spent
nearly two months in the jungle with one of the Chindit long-range
penetration groups. He was attached to 1 Battalion, Lancashire
Fusiliers, as Air Force officer to direct the close air support. Allan
saw early and successful action with a Japanese patrol while leading a
party through the jungle. Later, when his column moved on, he was
ordered to remain in the Lamai region to report enemy movements
and control air action; he was told that since he had only a small
escort he might leave if his position was threatened, but he stayed
isolated for six weeks, during which he was able to provide much
useful information and also to direct a number of air attacks on
objectives in the area. For example, one morning shortly after dawn,
he spotted a long Japanese supply train puffing slowly up a valley and
within the hour had the satisfaction of seeing it destroyed by the
fighter-bombers he summoned. Eventually Allan led his detachment
forty miles through hills and jungles to rejoin the Chindit Brigade.
The Military Cross which he was subsequently awarded for his exploits
was certainly well earned.
Nearly one hundred New Zealand fighter pilots flew and fought
with the RAF Spitfire, Hurricane and Beaufighter squadrons through
these hard months of the 1944Burma campaign. The records show
that in their various missions over difficult country, and often in
treacherous monsoon weather, many of them displayed efficiency
keenness and courage of a high order; there are also references to the
‘determination, skill and fine offensive spirit’ shown by individual
pilots, to their ‘splendid support for the Army’ and to ‘distinguished
leadership’ on the part of squadron and flight commanders.
Squadron Leader Bruce Ingram and Squadron Leader Denis Sharp
did particularly good work as fighter leaders. Ingram—he had already
distinguished himself with Desert Air Force in Africa and Sicily—
commanded a squadron of Spitfires. For the first few months he led
his pilots in defensive patrols over Calcutta and on sweeps against
Japanese airfields in central Burma; then they moved up to Imphal,
where they patrolled over the plain and escorted transports and
bombers; later, as enemy air activity faded, the Spitfires turned their
attention to the Japanese supply lines and achieved notable success
in what were known as ‘Rhubarb’ operations. It was on return from
one such mission that Ingram was forced to make a crash landing
short of the strip. He stepped out of his machine with a broken nose
and with a badly lacerated face. He was admitted to a field hospital,
where he contracted malaria followed by tetanus, and despite the
efforts of two nurses specially flown to Imphal he died shortly afterwards. Such, it may be noted, were the additional hazards of the Burma
war.
Denis Sharp led a squadron of ground-attack Hurricanes which
scored impressive results against enemy troops, transports and
communications, especially during the Japanese retreat from Manipur.
Sharp himself successfully attacked enemy railway engines on two
occasions while operating by night over 150 miles inside enemy
territory. By mid-1944 he had completed a total of 450 fighter sorties,
which included operations over Britain, Singapore and Ceylon as well
as Burma. ‘Under his leadership,’ writes a senior officer, ‘No. 11
Squadron has built up a great reputation in low attack work with a
long record of successes achieved by night as well as by day and in
the face of the many difficulties of terrain and weather constantly to
be met in this theatre.’
Two more men who established fine records as fighter leaders were
Flight Lieutenant J. M. Cranstone and Flight Lieutenant Murphy,
Flight Lieutenant W. J. Murphy, DFC; born Dunedin, 17 Sep 1917; shop assistant;
joined RNZAF16 Aug 1941.
both of whom commanded flights in No. 11 Squadron. Murphy,
‘leading his flight with great vigour and determination’, completed
the remarkable total of 198 sorties in the five monsoon months of
1944; Cranstone did equally valuable work until the relief of Imphal,
then went on to lead one of the first RAF units to be equipped with
American Thunderbolt fighters.
Many and varied were the exploits of individual fighter pilots.
Probably the most unusual was that of Flying Officer A. M. Peart
who flew with No. 81 Spitfire Squadron. He was pilot of one of six
fighters sent to operate from the jungle strip at Broadway shortly
after Wingate's Chindits had occupied the clearing. On the morning
after the Spitfires arrived, Broadway was attacked by thirty Oscars
but, warned in good time, the fighters were airborne and they shot
down four enemy machines and damaged several others. Three days
later the Spitfires, after surviving a dawn attack while on the ground,
took off to intercept another Japanese formation. Peart was the only
successful pilot in the combats which ensued. He destroyed one
enemy machine and damaged another. That night, with a storm
approaching, the Spitfires flew out to Imphal, but they were back
again early next morning. No sooner had they landed than four Zeros,
with a further eight as top cover, swept in very low on a strafing
attack. Only the squadron commander and Peart managed to take off
and intercept. The squadron commander shot down one Zero and was
then himself shot down. Peart engaged the enemy and sent one fighter
down without damage to his own aircraft. Meanwhile, on the ground,
the remainder of the detachment had fared badly; all four Spitfires
were shot up and one pilot was killed while attempting to leave the
ground. Only Peart's Spitfire survived and he flew it out to Kangala.
It was then decided that in view of the inadequate warning available
at Broadway, the Spitfires should operate from Kangala with the aid
of long-range tanks.
Many other men deserve mention. Squadron Leader V. K. Jacobs,
for example, completed a long and successful career flying Spitfires
over Arakan and Manipur, then spent his ‘rest’ period in charge of
the RAF servicing party that was sent to take over control of one of
the jungle strips. His first task was to resite the radar station, so
important to give early warning of the approach of enemy raiders and
as a help in ‘homing’ the transport Dakotas. Jacobs then improved
the airfield control and radio-telephone systems. He also did good work
in salvaging damaged aircraft, sometimes under the very eyes of the
enemy.
Other Spitfire pilots prominent in operations were Flying Officers
C.G. Beale, J. D. Rudling and Mathers
Flight Lieutenant C. S. Mathers; born Te Awamutu, 17 Apr 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF29 Sep 1940.
and Flight Sergeant R. J.
Clarke of No. 136 Squadron, and Flying Officer Allington,
Flight Lieutenant K. G. Allington, DFC; born Waipawa, 29 Sep 1916; farm labourer;
joined RNZAFJan 1941.
Warrant
Officers Jackson
Warrant Officer D. M. J. Jackson; born Stratford, 17 Dec 1921; farmer; joined RNZAFFeb 1941.
and Turner
Warrant Officer L. J. P. Turner; born Christchurch, 22 Nov 1918; salesman; joined
RNZAF30 Sep 1941.
of No. 152 Squadron. Both units
operated from Imphal during the siege, providing aerial defence and
giving escort to the transports and bombers. No. 136 was there when
the Japanese first attacked, and here is one New Zealander's account
of how they prepared to hold out:
The sergeant pilots dug themselves a massive community place, packed
about with sandbags and roofed with heavy tarpaulins supported on bamboo
poles. Nearby were the hangarettes for the aircraft built in the shape of a
letter ‘U’, fronted on to the air strip; they were defended by trenches and
a browning machine-gun mounted to cover a wide expanse of the area
towards the hills. Encircling the dispersal area was a ditch which formed a
communication trench so that the whole area with its dugouts, trenches and
pits looked like a honeycomb.
Most of the officer-pilots split into pairs and dug themselves small below-surface billets. Two of them found an engineer officer renowned for his
efficiency in blowing holes and blasting out tree stumps, and they talked
him into blowing them ‘a nice deep hole’; then they ‘borrowed’ a few yards
of matting to line the walls and flooring, and with a few shelves supported
on bamboo, an old box as a cupboard, bamboo rafters and tarpaulin cover—
their mansion was complete.
The ground crews put up a magnificent show. While carrying on with
their usual daily work—inspection, cleaning guns, testing radios, checking
equipment, refuelling, re-arming and so on—they dug their trenches and
holes, filled sandbags, carted and piled them up and then at night stood
guard from dusk to dawn—not all the men at once certainly, but approximately one-third of the squadron each night.
It was shortly after leaving Imphal that No. 136 Squadron lost one
of its leading members—Flying Officer John Rudling. The Spitfires
were then making long-range attacks against Japanese air bases in
Burma and, as sometimes happened on such missions, they were
intercepted by enemy fighters. In the mix-up which followed, Rudling
saw a fellow pilot being assailed by two Oscars. He immediately dived
to help him but, intent on getting to grips with the enemy, he failed
to observe a third Oscar closing on his tail. As he turned to open fire
the Japanese pilot seized his opportunity and sent the Spitfire down to
crash in flames.
Among the New Zealanders who flew Hurricane fighter-bombers,
Flight Lieutenants Stout
Squadron Leader R. E. Stout, DFC, m.i.d.; born Wellington, 28 Dec 1920; law student;
joined RAF2 Aug 1940; transferred RNZAF1 Jan 1944; commanded No. 42 Sqdn and
No. 79 Sqdn, SE Asia, 1945.
and Shannon,
Squadron Leader B. T. Shannon; born Feilding, 9 Jul 1913; sheep farmer; joined
RNZAF2 Jul 1940; commanded No. 11 Sqdn, SE Asia, 1945.
Flying Officers R. R. A.
McLauchlan and I. D. Culpan, Pilot Officers Connolly
Flying Officer P. L. Connolly, DFC; born Te Aroha, 23 Nov 1921; law clerk; joined
RNZAFFeb 1941.
and Sole
Flying Officer H. V. Sole, DFC; born Manaia, 24 Mar 1920; farmhand; joined RNZAF23 Nov 1940.
were prominent in operations over and beyond the Imphal area. They
took part in beating off the initial Japanese assault and, with their
squadrons, subsequently gave most valuable help to the Army in
defending the plain; they also engaged in low-level attacks on enemy
headquarters, bridges, railway engines, motor transport, sampans,
mule trains and troops. Shannon had a lucky escape one day while
leading a sortie against targets at Merema. One of his cannons exploded
and blew a large hole in the wing of his Hurricane; he was forced to
bale out but was lucky enough to drift down into friendly territory.
Warrant Officer J. R. L. Campbell, who flew with No. 258 Hurricane
Squadron, was less fortunate. On a night patrol down the Kaladan
valley, he crashed in the mountains well behind the Japanese lines
and it was twenty-three days before he returned to his squadron.
For several days and nights he made his way through the jungle until
he reached the village of Thawinchaung, where he was sheltered and
cared for by a native family. Japanese troops were in the vicinity, and
at one time actually in the house where Campbell was hiding, but
eventually, after spending a fortnight in a hideout at the foot of some
hills, he was rescued through the efforts of that very gallant band of
men who, under the code-name of V Force, worked behind the
Japanese lines.
By the end of 1944 quite a few New Zealand fighter pilots had
completed long and successful tours of operations—three years in
most cases. They included men like Flight Lieutenant L. T. Hunter
of No. 155 Squadron, who completed his tour by shooting down a
reconnaissance Dinah near Imphal, and such campaign veterans as
Flight Lieutenant A. A. Cooper, Flying Officers G. A. Williams and
C. V. Bargh in No. 67 Squadron, latterly engaged in the defence of
Calcutta and in escort and armed reconnaissance over the Arakan
front. The work of Vengeance pilots like Squadron Leader I. A.
Sutherland, in command of No. 82 Squadron, Royal Indian Air
Force, Flight Lieutenant Johns
Flight Lieutenant L. S. Johns; born Christchurch, 16 Nov 1915; meter clerk; joined
RNZAFJun 1940.
and Flying Officer Papps
Flight Lieutenant C. E. Papps, DFC; born Auckland, 26 Jan 1918; projectionist; joined
RNZAF21 Dec 1940.
with No.
84 Squadron, and Flying Officers A. E. Parker and G. T. Couttie
with No. 82 Squadron, also deserves mention. After their contribution
to the Arakan victory early in 1944, the Vengeance squadrons had
moved up to Manipur, where they continued to give valuable close
support to the Army throughout the fighting in that region.
* * * * *
Throughout 1944 New Zealanders also continued to share in the
work of long-range bombing and in both maritime and photographic
reconnaissance.
The Allied strategic bomber force in South-east Asia was still
relatively small—for most of the year it had only 200 aircraft, one-third
of them RAF Liberators and Wellingtons—but the crews worked hard
and their achievements, as the Japanese subsequently admitted, were
quite substantial. On occasion American Mitchells and British
Wellingtons bombed targets in close support of the land forces, but
the main effort of the bomber crews was directed against Japanese
rail, road and river communications, shipping, ports, airfields, supply
and storage depots and small industrial areas. These targets were
widely scattered and they often involved flights over great distances;
the round trip to Moulmein, for instance, was 1800 miles; to Bangkok
2200 miles; to the Kra Isthmus 2300, and eventually Liberators flew
sorties of 2800 miles to attack targets in the Malay Peninsula.
Fortunately enemy opposition was not severe. Usually the worst
hazard encountered by the bomber crews was the weather. To find
and bomb their targets they sometimes had to fight their way through
banks of cumulo-nimbus cloud or else make wide detours to avoid
tropical storms. These storms were not easy to detect on a moonless
night, and the first indication of their presence might well be violent
turbulence which flung the bomber about the sky and made it dangerous even to attempt a turn. The only thing to do was to try to fly the
aircraft through, keeping as far as possible ‘straight and level’. There
is no doubt that these conditions imposed a heavy strain on both
men and machines. As one pilot remarks: ‘When in action against
fighters or running the gauntlet of flak we knew what we were up
against but when confronted with the awesome blackness of cumulo-nimbus storms, one experienced a feeling of helplessness which was
difficult to overcome.’
The RAF Liberators flew many notable missions against communication targets—in particular the ill-famed railway linking Bangkok with
Moulmein, constructed by Allied prisoners of war under such appalling
conditions that 24,000 of them lost their lives. The line, which was of
the utmost importance to the Japanese in supplying their forces in
Burma, ran through jungle and mountainous country. To span the
succession of rivers and ravines, there were almost 700 bridges. The
Liberators, operating in daylight, made precision attacks against some
of the most important of these bridges and succeeded in cutting the
line again and again at vital points. The Liberators also bore the brunt
of the offensive against airfields, with the original RAF bases at
Mingaladon and Magwe as frequent targets. There were also many
minelaying sorties to the harbours of Rangoon, Moulmein, Tavoy
and Mergui in the Bay of Bengal and ports in the Gulf of Siam.
Altogether 664 mines were laid by the RAF during 1944, with results
that were exceptionally good, for the enemy lacked efficient mine-
sweepingminesweeping equipment and was unable to prevent continual dislocation
and damage to his shipping.
The Wellington squadrons operated consistently in the offensive
against communications until August 1944, when the last of these
aircraft were withdrawn from operations and replaced by Liberators.
Carrying bomb loads varying from a single 4000-pounder to a mixed
load of 6700 lb. of incendiaries and delayed action bombs, they
attacked railway installations at such places as Rangoon, Prome,
Bassien, Myingyan, Shwebo and Taungup. Wellington crews also
made an important contribution to the outcome of the Imphal battle
when, during the most critical period, they undertook transport missions
ranging from supply dropping to ferrying bombs to forward airfields.
They also bombed roads and bridges leading to the battle area.
There were sixty-eight New Zealand pilots, navigators, bomb-aimers, wireless operators and air gunners with the RAF bomber
squadrons during 1944. Outstanding among those who flew Wellingtons was Wing Commander R. G. Maddox, who continued in charge
of No. 99 Squadron. Under his command were experienced captains
like Flight Lieutenant Beca
Flight Lieutenant G. S. Beca, DFC; born Putaruru, 30 Apr 1921; draper's assistant;
joined RNZAFOct 1939.
and Pilot Officer H. D. Hampton, who
won commendation for their work. Beca frequently led bomber
formations and in one period of less than four months flew thirty
missions. He was then sent on attachment to a Dakota squadron,
delivering supplies to the Imphal valley. One day when low cloud
and almost continuous rain reduced the number of sorties to this
area to six, three of these were flown by Beca and his crew. Hampton
demonstrated his flying ability during a raid against Rangoon. When
still a considerable distance from the port, one engine of the Wellington
became almost useless. Although the bomber steadily lost height and
presented a good target for the defending anti-aircraft gunners,
Hampton flew on and pressed home his attack. By carefully nursing
his good engine, he eventually reached Chittagong to make a safe
landing after flying on one engine for four hours and twenty minutes,
and for much of this time over enemy territory.
Among other pilots who achieved good records with Wellingtons
were Flying Officer B. A. Jones,
Flight Lieutenant B. A. Jones; born Auckland, 29 May 1920; farmer; joined RNZAFJan 1941.
Flying Officer Williamson,
Flight Lieutenant A. S. Williamson; born Geraldine, 30 Jun 1915; shepherd; joined
RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
Pilot
Officer Ross
Flying Officer J. L. Ross; born Kartigi, 13 Oct 1909; farmer; joined RNZAF19 Oct 1941.
and Warrant Officer Trangmar.
Flying Officer R. H. Trangmar; born Wanganui, 25 Sep 1922; garage assistant; joined
RNZAF19 Oct 1941.
Equally good work
was done by Warrant Officers Wilkinson
Flying Officer E. G. Wilkinson; born Wellington, 12 Feb 1920; bank clerk; joined
RNZAF21 Mar 1942.
and O'Connor
Flying Officer B. W. O'Connor; born Timaru, 24 Nov 1920; civil service cadet; joined
RNZAF15 Jun 1941.
as navigators,
Flight Sergeant Stokes,
Warrant Officer F. N. Stokes; born Christchurch, 14 Jan 1923; clerical cadet; joined
RNZAF7 Mar 1942.
bomb-aimer, Flight Sergeant McColl,
Warrant Officer C. J. McColl; born Otorohanga, 14 Apr 1915; linesman; joined RNZAFSep 1940.
wireless operator, and Flight Sergeant McCaughey,
Warrant Officer W. J. McCaughey; born Port Rush, County Antrim, 22 Apr 1922;
metal worker; joined RNZAF17 Mar 1941.
air gunner.
McColl and McCaughey, who flew in the same crew, shared two
unenviable experiences. Returning from Rangoon one night in April,
they were forced to bale out when their Wellington rapidly lost height
after its port engine failed. Three months later they were concerned
in a crash landing shortly after take-off, when their machine refused
to climb owing to faults in its fabric.
Flying Officer Haycock,
Flying Officer J. E. Haycock, DFC; born Richmond, 15 May 1923; baker; joined
RNZAFMar 1942.
Warrant Officers Stocker
Warrant Officer E. P. Stocker, DFC; born Kaikoura, 10 Jan 1924; clerk; joined RNZAFMay 1942.
and Bardell
Warrant Officer E. D. Bardell, DFC; born Wisbech, England, 20 Mar 1911; concrete
worker; joined RNZAFApr 1940.
were New Zealanders who won distinction with Liberator bombers.
On one occasion during a low-level attack against a bridge, Haycock's
machine was intercepted by an Oscar fighter. As a result of his skilful
manoeuvring and the accurate fire of the gunners, the enemy machine
was destroyed without damage to the Liberator. Stocker flew many
successful bombing missions as captain and took part in a series of
successful long-range minelaying missions to Penang, which involved
round trips of more than 3000 miles and flying over the sea for eighteen
hours. Bardell was a veteran air gunner who, including his sorties
with Bomber Command in England, had completed fifty-five sorties
by mid-1944. Good work with Liberators was also done by Flying
Officer Clarke,
Flying Officer J. M. Clarke; born Auckland, 12 Jun 1923; hatter; joined RNZAF Feb
1942.
Warrant Officers Barr,
Warrant Officer L. A. Barr; born Onehunga, 26 Apr 1917; butcher; joined RNZAFDec 1941; prisoner of war, 6 Oct 1944.
Carter
Warrant Officer J. T. Carter; born Grey Lynn, 19 Aug 1922; clerk; joined RNZAFAug 1941.
and Marwick
Flying Officer J. R. Marwick; born Timaru, 7 Jul 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF21 Dec
1941.
as
pilots, Pilot Officer J. N. Culleton as navigator, Warrant Officer Tringham,
Flying Officer J. T. Tringham; born Napier, 7 Dec 1921; postman; joined RNZAF29 Dec 1939.
wireless operator, and Warrant Officer McKay,
Warrant Officer G. R. McKay; born Wyndham, 10 Sep 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
air gunner.
Royal Air Force Catalina and Sunderland flying-boats and Wellington
and Liberator bombers of the General Reconnaissance force played an
essential if unspectacular part in the war at sea. With only a relatively
small number of both German and Japanese submarines operating in
the Indian Ocean, sightings and attacks were few and far between but
the continuous patrols did help to keep enemy submarines submerged
and out of range of our shipping. The Allies were thus able to maintain
a continuous flow of reinforcements and supplies into Indian ports,
without which the land campaigns could not have prospered.
For the sixty New Zealand airmen with these squadrons there was
at least plenty of flying, even if their convoy and anti-submarine
patrols were long and monotonous and almost completely devoid of
incident. Occasionally things were enlivened for men like Flying
Officer Dean,
Flight Lieutenant J. D. Dean; born Auckland, 1 Nov 1915; dairy farmer; joined RNZAFNov 1941.
Warrant Officer Baker
Warrant Officer P. Baker; born Otaki, 24 Mar 1911; driver; joined RNZAFJul 1941.
and Flight Sergeant Skinner,
Flight Sergeant D. H. Skinner; born Dunsandel, 24 Jan 1922; farmer; joined RNZAF25 Jan 1942; killed on air operations, 6 May 1944.
members of No. 160 Liberator Squadron, when they took part in
bombing missions against Japanese bases in Sumatra, the Andamans
and the Nicobar Islands. But for the most part it was routine flying—
500 miles or more out to sea, then a long patrol and finally back to
base at night. Their area of operations was vast—the Indian Ocean
itself is more than twice the size of the North Atlantic—and their
bases varied from a crocodile and mosquito infested lake in the jungle
to an azure lagoon bounded by golden (but glamourless) beaches.
Their weather was everything from a clear blue sky to a cyclone.
‘Sometimes you could see forty miles (and, of course, be seen) or else
you could not see your wing tips. Tropical storms would appear
suddenly as from nowhere; one over base could be inconvenient when
you were already passed P.L.E.’
Prudent limit of endurance.
The ground and air crews had to
be masters of improvisation, especially when on detachment at remote
spots where facilities were few and spares scarce. One Catalina did an
engine change on an island beach; another flew back with its hull
patched up by wood and locally mixed concrete after an encounter
with an uncharted coral reef.
It was in such operations and under such conditions that Wing
Commander N. McClelland led No. 205 Catalina Flying Boat Squadron
for over eighteen months, achieving a fine record both as pilot and
squadron commander. The vast area covered by his crews may be
judged from the fact that its main base was at Koggala in Ceylon, with
forward detachments at Addu Atoll in the Maldive Islands and at
Diego Garcia, some 500 miles farther south.
With other squadrons Flying Officers Ballantyne
Flight Lieutenant R. F. Ballantyne; born Christchurch, 1 Feb 1909; draper; joined
RNZAFNov 1941.
and Vowles
Flight Lieutenant J. C. Vowles; born Ngatea, 4 Jan 1916; dairy farmer; joined RNZAF15 Jun 1941.
and Pilot Officers Glynn
Flying Officer A. W. Glynn; born Auckland, 8 Dec 1920; postal messenger; joined
RNZAFJan 1941.
and Beale
Flying Officer A. L. Beale; born Greymouth, 17 Feb 1913; driver; joined RNZAF21 Dec 1940.
also had good records as aircrew
of these flying-boats. With No. 230 Sunderland Squadron, Flight
Lieutenant Comrie
Flight Lieutenant J. R. Comrie; born Wellington, 6 Dec 1919; pay clerk; joined RNZAFFeb 1941.
captained a New Zealand crew with Flying
Officer Mason
Flight Lieutenant J. E. N. Mason; born Runciman, Auckland, 4 Jun 1923; teacher;
joined RNZAF3 Sep 1942.
as his co-pilot. Flying Officer Hayward,
Flight Lieutenant H. B. Hayward; born Feilding, 6 Sep 1918; teacher; joined RNZAFFeb 1942.
Flight
Sergeant McDonnell
Flying Officer E. R. McDonnell; born Greymouth, 8 Oct 1919; clerk; joined RNZAF9 Sep 1941.
and Flight Sergeant Dillon
Warrant Officer R. D. Dillon; born Auckland, 29 May 1923; electrical engineer; joined
RNZAFNov 1941.
of No. 203 Squadron
were prominent as captains of Wellingtons.
With eight million square miles of ocean to cover, it was not possible
for the squadrons to provide complete protection for the numerous
convoys and sinkings of supply ships took place at irregular intervals.
In this connection an important feature of their work was the search
for Allied seamen whose ships had been torpedoed. In July, for
example, a concentration of enemy submarines in shipping lanes to
the east of the Maldives resulted in the sinking of five ships. Catalina
aircraft which took part in search operations were instrumental in the
rescue of no fewer than 244 survivors. On one such errand of mercy
Wing Commander McClelland flew a Catalina in search of a raft
carrying men from the steamer Sutlej, which had been sunk fifty days
earlier. He was successful in locating the raft and dropped supplies
to its occupants. He then flew away and later guided a naval vessel to
the scene. As a result eighteen survivors were picked up to end what
had been a particularly grim ordeal.
New Zealand airmen took part in some notable tasks. They flew
with the Liberators and Catalinas which provided anti-submarine
escort for a floating dock which, in April 1944, was towed from
Bombay to Trincomalee at the rather heartbreaking speed of four
knots. In the same month they took part in the successful escort of
the Eastern Fleet in its strike with carrier-borne aircraft against Sabang
in north-west Sumatra. They were also present when the General
Reconnaissance squadrons flew fifty sorties in two days to cover the
return of the fleet after its attack at Sourabaya.
A group of twenty-five New Zealanders served with the Hurricanes
and Spitfires engaged on coastal defence and with the Beaufort
torpedo-bombers and Beaufighters of the small strike force. Their lot
was an unenviable one. For those with the fighter squadrons there was
little else but a continuous round of standing at ‘readiness’ and
training, while in the absence of suitable targets for their torpedoes
the Beaufort crews flew as escort to coastal convoys. One outstanding
success was however scored by the two Beaufighter squadrons which
operated against coastal traffic moving along the Tenasserim coast
and across the Gulf of Martaban to Rangoon. Patrolling at extreme
range over the Andaman Sea, they sighted a convoy of Japanese
coastal vessels heading for Rangoon. During two days they made
four attacks with rocket projectiles and cannon fire, during which they
succeeded in hitting fourteen ships, the majority of which were either
beached or left blazing.
The men of the RAF Photographic Wing flew Spitfires, Mosquitos
and Mitchells and they performed a variety of tasks. One of these
was to keep a continuous watch on Japanese airfields and lines of
communication, another the assessment of damage caused by the
strategic bombers; they also made frequent reconnaissances of the
Burmese coast, the Andaman Islands and the Gulf of Siam, and a
considerable effort was expended on a photographic survey of Burma
to provide up-to-date maps, especially of the battle areas. In the
course of these duties there were some notable performances. For
example, on one day alone no fewer than eighty Japanese airfields
were photographed; on another, almost the entire Burmese railway
system was covered.
Squadron Leader Newman
Wing Commander K. J. Newman, DFC and bar; born Hokianga, 15 Feb 1912; logging
contractor; joined RNZAF7 May 1940; commanded No. 684 PR Sqdn, 1945–46.
did particularly fine work as a Mosquito
pilot with No. 684 Squadron. Newman flew a Mosquito out to India
from the United Kingdom towards the end of 1943 and during his
first few months on operations made several reconnaissance sorties
of over 2000 miles. On one of these, a photographic survey of the
Nancoury Islands in the Nicobars, he flew 2256 miles which, at the
time, was claimed as a record non-stop flight by the Mosquito Mark IX
aircraft. Of his subsequent work, an episode which occurred in late
August 1944 deserves to be recorded. Sent to make a high-level
reconnaissance of the Burma-Thailand railway, Newman found, on
reaching his objective, that conditions were unsuitable for high-level
photography. But as it was important that the railway should be
covered, he decided to carry on at low-level and went down to skim
along the winding track for 45 miles at less than 1500 feet. At this
low altitude the Mosquito soon became the target for intense anti-aircraft fire, but by skilful flying and violent double-banking in the
five-second intervals between the camera exposures he managed to
avoid being hit. Eventually, with lowering cloud covering the hills
on both sides, he turned back along the line to cover areas he had
missed on the outward flight. By this time the enemy gunners had
gauged his speed and movements more accurately and very soon a
burst hit the Mosquito, damaging one of the propellers and smashing
Newman's oxygen regulator. During the long return trip the weather
was so bad that he had to fly at 25,000 feet to get above the storm
clouds but, sharing his navigator's oxygen supply, he reached base
safely with some very useful photographs. Such were his efforts during
this period of the Burma war that Newman received immediate awards
of both the Distinguished Flying Cross and bar.
Other prominent Mosquito pilots were Flight Lieutenants Irvine
Flight Lieutenant J. Irvine, DFC; born New Plymouth, 20 Oct 1918; student; joined
RNZAFSep 1941.
and Murray
Squadron Leader W. M. Murray, DFC; born Mosgiel, 10 Jan 1914; fat-stock buyer;
joined RNZAF1 Dec 1940.
and Flying Officer Dent.
Flying Officer C. S. Dent; born Cambridge, 15 Mar 1914; accountant; joined RNZAFSep 1940.
Flight Lieutenant Parry
Flight Lieutenant N. L. Parry, DFC; born Auckland, 10 Apr 1920; accountant; joined
RNZAF25 May 1941.
spent a long period flying Spitfires and won distinction for his work;
Warrant Officer R. K. Brown
Warrant Officer R. K. Brown; born Rotorua, 18 Oct 1922; clerical cadet; joined RNZAFNov 1941.
and Flight Sergeant Prichard
Flying Officer R. C. Prichard; born Hunterville, 27 Feb 1913; farmer; joined RNZAF13 Apr 1941.
also
achieved good records as pilots of these aircraft.
CHAPTER 16
Back to Rangoon—the Last Phase
THE Allied armies were now everywhere on the offensive, fighting
their way back into those regions of Burma from which they had
been driven in the dark days of 1942. The recopening of overland
communications with China was still their main objective, but to this
another had recently been added, namely ‘the destruction or expulsion
of all Japanese forces in Burma.’ And at long last, after years of
frustration and disappointment, both these tasks now seemed possible
of early fulfilment. For Japanese resistance was becoming noticeably
weaker; their air power had withered away and the army, although it
continued to make a tenacious stand on a number of occasions, was
no longer capable of dealing with the strong formations which now
opposed it.
The Allied air forces were giving powerful support at every stage
of the advance; the achievements of their transport squadrons in
particular continued to be nothing short of the spectacular. Indeed,
as the Supreme Commander points out in his despatch, ‘air operations
formed the background and the unceasing accompaniment to the
land fighting. Land advances depended for their success on air
protection from enemy interference. In most cases the air forces
provided the spearhead of the attack; during the operations they
fought the enemy in the air and harried him on the ground, and after
the battle they continued to attack his communications and bases and
to weaken his fighting organisation. It will not be possible to form an
authentic overall picture of the land/air campaign if this is not borne
in mind.’
During these last months of the Burma war which saw the final
triumph of air power and air supply, a New Zealand airman, Air
Marshal Sir Keith Park, was in command of all the Allied air forces in
South-east Asia. He took over in February 1945, relieving Air Marshal
Sir Guy Garrod,
Air Chief Marshal Sir Guy Garrod, GBE, KCB, MC, DFC, Legion of Merit (US),
Order of Cloud and Banner (Ch), Order of George I (Gk); born London, 13 Apr
1891; served Leicestershire Regiment, 1914–15; joined RFC 1915; Air Member for
Training, Air Council 1940–43; Deputy AOC-in-C, India, 1943; Deputy Allied Air
C-in-C, SE Asia, 1943–45; C-in-C RAF, Mediterranean and Middle East, 1945.
who had been in temporary control since the
departure of Air Chief Marshal Sir Richard Peirse three months earlier.
It had originally been intended that Peirse's successor should be
Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory,
Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory, KCB, DSO, Order of Polonia Restituta
(Pol), Order of Kutuzov (USSR), Legion of Merit (US); born Mobberley, Cheshire,
11Jul 1892; joined Lancashire Fusiliers, 1914; seconded RFC 1916 and RAF1918;
permanent commission RAF, 1919; AOC No. 12 Fighter Group, 1937–40; AOC
No. 11 Fighter Group, 1940–42; AOC-in-C, Fighter Command, 1942–43; AOC-in-C,
AEAF, 1943–44; missing 14 Nov 1944 and death presumed.
but he was killed in an
air crash while flying to take up his appointment. By a queer twist of
fate Park thus replaced the man who had so strongly criticised his
tactics during the Battle of Britain and who had succeeded him at
No. 11 Group, Fighter Command.
In Burma, as in Britain, Egypt and Malta, Park showed himself a
forceful and resolute leader. Under his direction air supply and air
support in Burma reached their peak, and this was done by imaginative
planning and by resource, energy and courage in execution. Park's
responsibilities were heavy and his forces spread over a wide area, but
it was not long before his lean figure and smiling face were familiar
to many of the men serving under him, by whom he was soon regarded
with great affection. ‘Sir Keith,’ writes an RAF squadron commander,
‘would come over to us at dispersal and squat down with a muster of
pilots around him. Within a few minutes he would be freely discussing
the minutest details of an operation and displaying an uncanny understanding of our problems. At the same time everybody could ventilate
their pet grouch with a sure feeling that if it was possible something
would be done to remedy the matter.’
Two other New Zealanders, both of whom had already achieved
distinction in the Royal Air Force, held senior posts in South-east
Asia during the closing stages of the campaign. One was Air Vice-
Marshal Jarman,
Air Vice-Marshal G. T. Jarman, DSO, DFC; RAF; born Ashburton, 20 Feb 1906;
joined RAF1930; permanent commission 1936; CGI, No. 2 FTS, 1939–40; commanded
No. 77 Sqdn, 1940–41; No. 76 Sqdn, 1941; No. 19 OTU, 1941–43; RAF Station,
Wigtown, 1943; DCAS, RNZAF, 1943–44; AOC No. 229 Group, ACSEA, 1945.
who was in control of No. 229 Group, RAF, which
was concerned with air transport and ferrying aircraft behind the
operational area. The other was Group Captain H. N. G. Isherwood.
Group Captain H. N. G. Isherwood, DFC, AFC, Order of Lenin (USSR); born Petone,
13 Jul 1905; served with NZ Mtd Rifles, 1924–30; joined RAF1930; permanent commission 1936; flying duties, Aeronautical and Armament Experimental Establishment,
1936–41; Sector Commander, No. 9 Fighter Group, 1941; Controller, HQ No. 9
Fighter Group, 1941; commanded No. 151 Hurricane Wing in Russia, 1941; commanded
RAF Stations, Church Stanton, Valley andWoodvale, 1942–44; RAF Station, Mauripur,
India, 1944–45; commanded No. 342 Wing, SE Asia, 1945; killed in aircraft accident,
24 Apr 1950.
He was in charge of a transport wing headquarters that was responsible
for one-third of all supplies going forward by air to 15 Corps in
Arakan and to Fourteenth Army in central Burma.
As well as these senior officers there were quite a number of New
Zealanders holding responsible posts in the air organisation. Some of
their names have already been recorded but others now deserve
mention. Wing Commander Chrystall,
Wing Commander G. J. H. Chrystall; born Dunedin, 4 May 1918; joined RAF1937;
transferred RNZAFJan 1944.
for example, who had flown
with No. 27 Squadron in India before the war, was now busy organising the dropping of agents and supplies behind the Japanese in Burma.
Wing Commander Durrant,
Wing Commander L. E. Durrant; born Feilding, 17 Feb 1915; joined RAFJan 1940;
transferred RNZAFAug 1944.
a specialist navigation officer with No.
229 Group, was responsible for greater efficiency along the airline
and ferry routes within India. Wing Commander McCarthy
Wing Commander F. McCarthy, m.i.d.; born Auckland, 2 Jun 1908; joined RAF2 Jul 1941; transferred RNZAF1 Oct 1944.
was an
RAF Provost Marshal, and there were men like Wing Commander
Cornford
Wing Commander A. L. Cornford; RAF; born Napier, 20 Aug 1914; joined RAFJan 1939.
and Squadron Leader Butement
Squadron Leader J. C. S. Butement; born Dunedin, 5 Dec 1911; colour film process
chemist; joined RAFJun 1940.
who saw long service in
equipment and photographic duties respectively.
Nine New Zealanders commanded RAF squadrons operating in
South-east Asia Command during 1945. Wing Commander A. H.
Harding, a veteran of Coastal Command and the Middle East, was in
charge of a transport squadron and Wing Commander N. McClelland
continued in control of Catalina flying-boats. Wing Commander K.
J. Newman led the RAF squadron of photo-reconnaissance Mosquitos
in its final operations, while Beaufighters were controlled by Squadron
Leader A. E. Browne.
Squadron Leader A. E. Browne, DFC; born Auckland, 14 Jul 1913; factory manager;
joined RNZAFDec 1940; commanded No. 89 Sqdn, SE Asia, 1945.
The others were Squadron Leader J. M.
Cranstone, who led Thunderbolt fighters, and Squadron Leaders
Humphreys,
Squadron Leader J. S. Humphreys; born Greymouth, 13 Nov 1918; joined RAF Apr
1939; transferred RNZAFApr 1945; commanded Nos 11, 60 and 8 (RIAF) Sqdns,
SE Asia, 1944–45.
B. T. Shannon, G. S. Sharp and R. E. Stout, each
commanding Hurricane squadrons. The veteran Hurricane fighter-bomber which had already proved its worth in Burma was still a most
exact weapon in the hands of the experienced pilots now flying it,
and they enjoyed an immense reputation for their accurate pinpointing
of targets within a comparatively few yards of our own positions.
* * * * *
By the beginning of 1945 our land forces, advancing on three fronts,
had made substantial progress. In north-east Burma, the army of the
United States General Sultan (Stilwell's successor), which consisted
chiefly of Chinese divisions but which also included British and
American units, had pushed well south of Myitkyina. During January
they linked up with Chinese forces moving westwards of the Salween
and on the 27th the famous Burma Road was at last reopened. Meanwhile, to the south-west in Arakan, General Christison's British 15
Corps had occupied Akyab, and this was followed by a series of
amphibious landings, the chief of which was on Ramree Island, which
was taken in February. The capture of Akyab and Ramree was particularly valuable, for they provided sites for airfields which could
facilitate air supply to our forces in central Burma. Here the Fourteenth
Army had crossed the Chindwin and was fanning out over the central
Burma plain. Its immediate objective was the capture of Mandalay,
but already the eyes of both the troops and their courageous leader,
General Slim, were fixed on a greater prize—the port and capital of
Rangoon, 450 miles to the south.
Slim, Defeat into Victory, p. 482: ‘We had, in fact, been making plans quietly at Fourteenth Army Headquarters for the capture of Rangoon since the previous July, and in
November, when our bridges over the Chindwin were either achieved or about to be
achieved, we settled down to serious planning.’
The possibility that Rangoon might be reached by an army
travelling overland and supplied by air had not, as yet, been given
serious consideration by the Allied leaders. At the Quebec conference
a few months previously when the reconquest of Burma was discussed,
the general feeling was that supply difficulties would prevent our land
forces from occupying southern Burma before the monsoon began
in the following May. Elaborate plans and preparations had therefore
been made for a series of airborne assaults to capture key points and
for a large-scale amphibious operation, known as dracula, to be
directed against Rangoon from the south.
But the whole conception of Burma campaigning had now been
transfigured by air power. In central Burma, in the northern area and
in Arakan, air supply had given the ground forces a degree of mobility
which enabled them to exploit the slightest advantage offered by
weakening enemy resistance. Simultaneously the growing weight of the
close-support squadrons helped these advances to grow greater and
more frequent so that even distant Rangoon became possible of early
attainment by Fourteenth Army.
February 1945 was the month of decision. Our land forces had by
then made such progress that it was decided to shelve the earlier plans,
and at an historic Calcutta Conference Park agreed that his Air
Command would accept the task of supplying and supporting the
Fourteenth Army on an overland advance to Rangoon. This was an
immense undertaking for it involved the greatest air supply operation
of the war—the sustaining of an army of more than 300,000 men
fighting in a country which in many respects was most unfavourable
for air operations. Moreover, the penalty of failure would be severe.
If the port of Rangoon was not reached before the monsoon broke
three months hence, then the transport squadrons would have to
continue this unprecedented charge through five months of rain.
Fourteenth Army forged ahead. General Slim's first intention was
to bring the Japanese to action in the Shwebo plain, north of the
Irrawaddy, but the enemy had now withdrawn behind that river.
Slim, therefore, recast his plans and, by a remarkable series of movements, succeeded in outwitting the Japanese and secured a crossing
over the river below Mandalay. Some hard fighting followed, but by
the end of March both Mandalay and the grey bedraggled town of
Meiktila were in our hands—the latter, however, only after a bitter
struggle lasting several weeks. The Japanese now fell back, having
suffered heavy losses both in action and from hunger, disease and
fatigue. They were hampered, more than by anything else, by the
almost complete breakdown of their main communications and supply
system. For the patient work of our strategic bombers and of our
long-range tactical squadrons which had been persistently and
unobtrusively carried out over the past year had begun to yield rich
dividends.
Fighters and bombers of RAF No. 221 Group
No. 221 Group, which provided the main close air support for Fourteenth Army,
consisted at this time of six squadrons of Hurricanes and three squadrons of Thunderbolts for close support; four squadrons of Spitfires for defence; three squadrons of
Beaufighters and Mosquitos for long-range tactical work; two squadrons of Hurricanes
for reconnaissance work; a detachment of night-fighting Beaufighters and a detachment
of Spitfires for photographic reconnaissance.
were active in close
support. As well as attacking enemy troops and positions, they
bombed bridges, installations, headquarters and communication
centres far and wide behind the Japanese lines. Frequent attacks were
also made on enemy airfields to prevent the Japanese air force from
interfering with our advance.
Many units were now moving forward from Assam and a transfer
of squadrons, together with their ground staff and control centres,
was far from easy. The majority were moved by air, but some had to
use the indifferent roads of central and southern Burma which were
then crowded with mechanised transport and armoured vehicles.
Then, as the close-support squadrons moved down into southern
Burma, long-range squadrons moved forward from northern Burma
and Assam into the Shwebo and Meiktila area. All these moves made
administration more difficult, especially during April when no fewer
than eighty units were moved forward; by the end of that month
No. 221 Group was administering squadrons scattered over 600 miles
from northern Assam to southern Burma.
All this time the transport squadrons were hard at work. In a single
month they delivered over 60,000 tons of food and military supplies
to the operational area. Thanks to the activities of our fighters they
suffered no loss in flight, but at Meiktila, where they began landing
whilst the airfield was still under fire, seven Dakotas were destroyed
on the ground. One machine taking on wounded for its return journey
had a shell explode inside, causing further injuries to the casualties
already placed aboard. As the Fourteenth Army advanced the distances
to be flown increased, so that crews of Dakotas flying from Chittagong,
Comilla and Tulihal had to take off at first light; and if, as frequently
happened, they had orders to make three trips, they did not complete
their work until long after dark. The strain on technical, maintenance,
flying, and loading personnel was indeed terrific but everyone kept
at it, determined that no failing of theirs should let the Army down.
They did not fail, and on 20 March when the flag of Fourteenth Army
was raised above the high red walls and the wide moat of Mandalay's
Fort Dufferin, General Slim declared, in his Order of the Day, that
‘there could have been no victory without the constant support of
the Allied air forces …. it is their victory as much as ours.’
During April, as the Fourteenth Army continued its advance
southwards, the supporting air squadrons redoubled their efforts,
greatly helped by the work of airfield engineers who marched with
our main spearheads, levelling and repairing captured airstrips with
speed. The Japanese Army Command was now losing touch with the
realities of the situation, and to add to its confusion enemy field
headquarters were bombed wherever they could be found; as a result
there were instances of army commanders being unaware of the
location of their units and of units being lost and without orders.
At the same time our bombers began the systematic destruction of
supplies piled by the Japanese in Rangoon. Of some 1700 well
dispersed storage units, more than half went up in flames. Railway
yards, rolling stock, radar and gun emplacements, airfields, bridges
and enemy camps all received the impact of air bombing; the Japanese
headquarters in Rangoon was blown up and 400 killed; the river was
mined by RAF Liberators, preventing its use except for the smallest
craft. Meanwhile British and American transport aircraft continued
to bring forward their daily loads of food, ammunition and petrol.
The tonnage carried now reached an all-time record.
Thus supported and sustained from the air, British troops had, by
the end of April, reached the outskirts of Pegu, where the giant figure
of Buddha gazed with his strange smile on the efforts of those who
scurried and fought about his feet. Our advanced units were now less
than fifty miles from Rangoon, and in the face of this threat the
Japanese withdrew completely from the city and port they had held so
long. A few days later, on 2 May, an RAF pilot on reconnaissance over
Rangoon, perceiving no sign of the enemy on the airfield at Mingaladon,
decided to land. He then entered the city and took formal possession
on behalf of the Allied forces. And it was fitting that the vital part
played by air power in the campaign should be rounded off by the
token occupation of Rangoon by the Royal Air Force.
The first troops to reach the city arrived the following evening.
They came, however, from the south. For a few weeks earlier,
Mountbatten and his overall land commander, General Oliver Leese,
fearful that the Fourteenth Army would not reach Rangoon before
the monsoon broke, had decided to launch a modified Operation
dracula. Supported by RAF No. 224 Group from its Arakan base,
the operation began on 1 May with the dropping of a parachute
battalion and the landing of 26 Indian Division to the south of the
city. But these troops did not have to fight and their advance into
Rangoon was more of the nature of a triumphal procession than an
assault in force.
Technically, Fourteenth Army, whose forward units were still
thirty miles to the north on the Pegu road, had lost the race to Rangoon.
Nevertheless it was most certainly its drive, helped by the air force,
which really won the battle. But it was a near thing. For torrential
rain now began to fall as the full fury of the monsoon burst over
southern Burma.
Japanese military power in Burma was now almost completely
broken. For while the Fourteenth Army had been driving south
towards Rangoon, operations had continued successfully on the other
fronts. In the northern area, Lashio had been captured by the Chinese
and the enemy driven back into the Chan States. Simultaneously in
the Arakan 15 British Corps, supported by RAF No. 221 Group, had
driven the Japanese from their last stronghold at Taungup.
One more battle, however, had yet to be fought before Burma was
entirely free. It was known as the Battle of the Sittang Bend. In their
lightning thrust south our armies had left large concentrations of
Japanese unaccounted for, and these were now biding their time in the
rain-soaked ravines of the Pegu Yomas, awaiting an opportunity to
escape across the River Sittang into Thailand. They eventually decided
on a mass breakout in the early part of July but found their way
barred by British troops. There followed one of the bloodiest episodes
of the whole campaign in which Burmese guerrillas, adequately
organised at last, joined to ambush and cut to pieces hundreds of the
escaping enemy.
Royal Air Force fighters and bombers took a prominent part in this
Sittang battle. Thunderbolt squadrons carrying three 500 Ib bombs
on each aircraft played havoc among squadrons of moving Japanese
troops. Spitfires, too, each carrying one 500 Ib bomb, pursued the
enemy relentlessly. Just how effective this air action became is shown
in a message sent to Nos. 273 and 607 Squadrons by one guerrilla
leader at the height of the battle. ‘You are killing hundreds of Japs,’
he said, ‘and your perfect co-ordination and patience in reading our
crude signals is saving the lives of many thousands of defenceless
civilians.’ Altogether in this final action of the Burma war the RAF
flew a total of 3045 sorties and dropped over 700 tons of bombs. And
this was done in appalling weather, with cloud ceiling often down to
a few hundred feet and airfields turned into muddy lakes by the
monsoon storms.
It was at the Sittang River three years earlier that the British Army
had suffered a heavy defeat. Now the wheel had turned full circle.
The Japanese were out of Burma at a cost of 100,000 dead, not
counting the unnumbered skeletons in the inhospitable jungle.
An outstanding feature of the final campaign in Burma was that our
armies advanced under cover of almost complete Allied air supremacy.
This fact was at once evident to all who flew over the battlefields and
noted on the enemy side little sign of activity, but saw behind the
British front long lines of transport moving in uncamouflaged safety,
supply dropping parachutes in use as tents and all the paraphernalia
of war left lying in full view by troops who had come to regard our
air supremacy as part of the nature of things in Burma. But this was
not so and, until the end, a steady effort was required in order to keep
the Japanese Air Force subdued. This effort consisted largely of
Spitfire patrols over forward areas and attacks on enemy airfields
by long-range Mustangs. A remarkable feat was the destruction of
thirty-one Japanese machines on the airfield at Don Muang, near
Bangkok, by forty American Mustangs in March 1945. This was
accomplished after a flight of some 780 miles from the nearest base—a
mission which in Europe would have corresponded to a raid on
Vienna by single-engined fighters based on London.
It is unnecessary to record in detail the enormous advantages
accruing to our ground forces as a result of this Allied dominance of
the Burma air. It is, however, worth pausing to consider what would
have happened had the enemy been allowed unrestricted use of the
sky. The air supply on which the whole land campaign hinged would
have been impossible; the attrition rate of our close-support squadrons
which worked with accuracy and effect would have been prohibitive
and the disruption caused by our strategic bombers to the enemy's
communications far to the rear could not have been such as to have
materially influenced the battle.
* * * * *
New Zealanders shared in all phases of the air operations. Those
who flew the transport Dakotas worked extremely hard. In February
1945, for example, Warrant Officer Stent
Warrant Officer J. H. Stent; born Nelson, 26 Aug 1920; carpenter; joined RNZAF16 May 1942.
of No. 117 Squadron
achieved the unusual total of 192 hours' flying despite being grounded
for four days by bad weather. Remarkably good work as Dakota
pilots was also done during this period by Flight Lieutenant Hamilton
Flight Lieutenant S. W. Hamilton; born Takapau, 16 Jun 1923; railway cadet; joined
RNZAFMay 1942; killed on air operations, 13 Jul 1945.
and Warrant Officer Yates
Flying Officer G. R. V. Yates; born Wellington, 9 May 1919; clerk; joined RNZAF7 Mar 1942.
of No. 62 Squadron, by Warrant Officer
Gifford
Flying Officer W. W. Gifford; born Taihape, 25 Sep 1920; sheep farmer; joined RNZAFMay 1942.
of No. 117 Squadron, and by Warrant Officer Deegan,
Flying Officer T. G. Deegan; born Gulgong, Aust, 30 Mar 1911; motor engineer;
joined RNZAFApr 1942.
Flight
Sergeants Anderson
Pilot Officer R. A. L. Anderson; born Mangonui, 24 Feb 1924; student; joined RNZAFNov 1942.
and Mackenzie
Pilot Officer T. D. Mackenzie; born Balclutha, 16 Jun 1923; shepherd; joined RNZAFJul 1942.
of No. 238 Squadron.
During the crucial months while the Allied advance through central
Burma was in progress the transport crews usually operated in good
weather. It was, however, a different story after the arrival of the
monsoon in May. The task of supplying the Army then became, as
Group Captain Isherwood puts it, ‘more dangerous than any other
type of operation.’ ‘The crews,’ he says, ‘would go out two or three
times daily in violent storms, frequently returning to find their own
airfields flooded. Diversion was useless as all fields were flooded
together so that hazardous landings in a sea of mud were a frequent
experience.’
In June 1945 twelve Dakotas were lost in bad weather. It is on
record that one aircraft flying over Burma at that time actually found
itself upside-down in a storm, and it was only the skill and presence
of mind of the pilot which averted disaster. Another example of the
hazards crews faced during the monsoon is provided by the experience
of the pilot who found himself completely closed in with cumulo-nimbus clouds during a return flight from Meiktila to Akyab. After
three attempts he found a break in the cloud and brought his Dakota
out on to the coast opposite Ramree Island. He then descended to
300 feet, but cumulo-nimbus again closed in and, after making several
unsuccessful attempts to climb out, he was eventually forced down
to sea level. For almost an hour the aircraft circled, during which
time the radio compass became unserviceable. Eventually the machine
was turned on a reciprocal course and a small gap found, but once
again the cloud closed in. In the face of this predicament the pilot
decided there was no alternative but to risk a blind forced landing.
He therefore descended and succeeded in bringing the aircraft to rest
in a paddy field without injury to his crew.
Flight Lieutenant Hamilton and his crew, however, were less
fortunate. While returning through a storm one day in July, their
machine crashed near Akyab and all perished. No message was received
from the aircraft but another pilot saw it spinning out of low cloud,
almost certainly after instruments had failed while in the cumulo-nimbus turbulence.
The weather was not the only difficulty with which the transport
squadrons had to contend. For the ground organisation both of the
Army and the RAF, although it improved considerably towards the
end, was by no means wholly efficient. For one thing there was a
certain tardiness in providing forward airfields, both for the landing
of Dakotas and for the operation of fighters to protect them. Depots
were not always kept fully stocked by the Army ‘Q’ staff, for there
were never enough lorries either in the rear or forward areas. And
since it was the practice to keep each main type of commodity at
separate airfields, the supply crews had to fly from field to field if they
were to carry a mixed freight. Again, at forward airfields, controllers
often kept the transport Dakotas circling while tactical aircraft took
off on routine operations, and until late in the campaign very little
provision was made to feed and rest the crews of the supply aircraft.
As the Army advanced southwards transport crews were also
subjected to the unnecessary strain of longer and longer flights from
bases in India. This was because of the delay in restoring the airfields
at Akyab and Ramree after their capture in order to shorten the air
supply route to central Burma. Ramree Island was occupied towards
the end of January 1945, but not until mid-April were its airfields
in use for transport operations. At Akyab, captured several weeks
earlier, these were not in full progress until 1 April. ‘Had it not been
for continual pressure by the Air Command,’ writes Sir Keith Park
in his despatch, ‘it is probable that the development of these bases
would have lagged interminably and the supply of forces in central
and southern Burma have been insufficient to exploit the victories
around Mandalay. It is difficult to describe the urgency and frequency
of the representations that were necessary to awaken the Army to the
part they must play in developing an air line of communication.’
Altogether, though easy to condemn in retrospect, it is difficult not
to agree with Park's conclusion that ‘the campaign in Burma would
have been rendered easier had the engineering resources that were
poured into less profitable projects been directed towards timely
building of forward airfields, more efficient supply depots and stronger
lines of communication to the air haulage centres. The Ledo Road,
for example, is surely the longest white elephant in the world. Had
the wealth of ability and material that went to its building been
employed in strengthening the air supply system the recapture of
Burma could probably have been advanced by an appreciable period.’
New Zealand fighter pilots flew Hurricanes, Spitfires, Thunderbolts,
Beaufighters and Mosquitos and they operated over two main regions—
the Arakan and central Burma. Spitfire pilots were employed mainly
on defensive patrols to intercept sneak raids by Japanese fighters on
our forward areas. The Hurricanes and Thunderbolts, on the other
hand, were mainly concerned with attacking ground targets in support
of the Army, but along with the Spitfires they also escorted Dakotas
on their supply missions. Beaufighter and Mosquito crews ranged
farther afield to bomb and strafe Japanese shipping, supply dumps and
railways.
While British forces were engaged in clearing the Arakan, Thunderbolts led by Squadron Leader Cranstone and Hurricanes led by
Squadron Leader Geoffrey Sharp took a prominent part in the supporting air operations. Both men proved themselves skilful leaders
in attacks that had frequently to be delivered at low level and against
well-defended enemy positions. The Nigerian Regiment presented
Sharp with a Japanese sword in token of his squadron's co-operation.
Flight Lieutenant Simpson
Squadron Leader C. McG. Simpson, DFC; born Auckland, 10 Feb 1922; clerical cadet;
joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
of No. 67 Squadron, who had flown in
the defence of Rangoon in 1942, Flight Lieutenant Jenkins,
Flight Lieutenant R. H. Jenkins; born Warkworth, 21 Sep 1917; clerk; joined RNZAFNov 1940.
a flight
commander with No. 5 Squadron, and Warrant Officer Craighead,
Warrant Officer J. W. Craighead; born Christchurch, 11 Nov 1919; farmhand; joined
RNZAFDec 1941.
flying Thunderbolts with No. 258 Squadron, also saw action over
the Arakan.
The effectiveness of the fighter pilots' work is seen in messages
received from the Army. ‘Successful air strike this morning enabled
our troops to occupy feature without opposition,’ runs one signal
from 26 Division, and from 82 Division came the more cryptic but
equally enthusiastic: ‘Strike very successful. Many thanks. Infantry
on all objectives. Vive le Sport.’ These were typical of the day-to-day
operations, and to them was added General Oliver Leese's congratulations to the squadrons of No. 224 Group on ‘the wonderful support
given to 15 Corps during the operations leading to the capture of
Akyab.’
Akyab was, in fact, taken unopposed following sustained air action
against the Japanese there. A large-scale amphibious assault had been
prepared, but on the day before it was due to be launched two Hurricane
pilots reported signals from the islanders that the Japanese had gone.
A few hours later Akyab was ‘occupied’ by its own former judge,
Wing Commander Bradley, RNZAF,
Wing Commander J. B. G. Bradley, CBE; born India, 12 Mar 1899; sessions judge;
joined RNZAFMay 1942; deputy Chief Civil Affairs Officer, Burma, 1944–45.
who landed in a light aircraft
and was greeted by his friend the local doctor.
Fighter pilots of No. 67 Squadron were in action over the island a
few days later when six Oscar fighter-bombers attempted a surprise
attack. All but one of the intruders were shot down. Flight Lieutenant
Simpson accounted for two of them and Warrant Officer McQuarrie
Flying Officer P. M. McQuarrie; born Bluff, 25 May 1922; clerk; joined RNZAF19 Oct 1941.
destroyed another. In so doing, the two New Zealanders avenged the
loss of a gallant fellow countryman, Warrant Officer Horan,
Warrant Officer J. S. Horan, m.i.d.; born Onehunga, 12 Apr 1920; farmhand; joined
RNZAF13 Feb 1940; killed on air operations, 9 Jan 1945.
rear-gunner in an air-sea rescue Otter that was shot down by the Japanese
fighters. The Otter, a slow and vulnerable machine, had been airborne
when the Japanese came over. All six Oscars attacked it. Horan
returned their fire, was hit in one hand but continued to operate his
gun with the other. Then he was hit again and mortally wounded, but
his pilot was able to beach the burning aircraft and the rest of the
crew were saved. By remaining at his post to fight on against heavy
odds, Horan certainly upheld the finest traditions of the service.
Fighter operations over central Burma in support of the Fourteenth
Army were remarkable for their intensity and for the high degree of
success achieved. When, for example, 33 Corps was attempting to
cross the Irrawaddy, north of Mandalay, Hurricane squadrons moved
forward to Onbauk, only a few miles from the battle, and gave decisive
close support. They did similar good work against the Japanese
holding out at Fort Dufferin, in Mandalay itself, but their most valuable
contribution was the day-to-day ‘basha-busting’ and the attacking of
enemy bunkers and trenches cleverly hidden in chaung or among trees.
‘Bombing exactly where we wanted it,’ runs a typical signal from the
Army. ‘Direct hit on 105 mm. gun …. Morale effect terrific.’
In making their attacks the fighter pilots were now often helped by
what were known as Visual Control Posts—experienced observers
flying in light aircraft who pinpointed targets often concealed from
ground observation and passed directions to the fighter-bombers.
These then swooped to the attack and the liquid napalm fire-bombs
they used, in conjunction with high explosive, had an appalling effect
on the enemy. Indeed, Army reports noted a tendency on the part of
troops ‘to watch the exhibition rather than to get on with the attack.’
Certainly this well-controlled air support helped to reduce our casualties and on occasion the infantry were able to occupy enemy positions
unopposed.
Squadron Leaders J. S. Humphreys, R. E. Stout and B. T. Shannon
each commanded Hurricanes thus engaged in support of the Fourteenth Army. All three men achieved fine records. Stout, for example,
was now on his third tour, having commenced operations with
Hurricanes during the retreat from Burma; he completed a total of
221 sorties. Some idea of the sustained effort these leaders and their
pilots made in support of the Army may be gleaned from the fact that
Humphreys' squadron alone flew over 1300 sorties during February
and March 1945.
Another successful Hurricane pilot at this time was Flight Lieutenant
J. D. McPhail, who commanded a flight in No. 20 Squadron. McPhail
took part in a remarkable operation near Myinmu in mid-February.
Here the enemy had concentrated most of his precious tanks and with
great cunning concealed them in what appeared to be small native huts,
camouflaged with the boughs of trees. One pilot, his suspicions
aroused, fired his gun and ripped off the roof of one hut to reveal a
tank. Other Hurricanes soon joined in and twelve tanks were quickly
uncovered and destroyed. This feat brought an exuberant signal from
a nearby British division. ‘Nippon Hardware Corporation has gone
bust,’ it read. ‘Nice work. Tanks a million.’
Thunderbolt fighter-bomber pilots did equally good work. Flying
with No. 79 Squadron was Squadron Leader Vanderpump,
Squadron Leader M. T. Vanderpump, DFC, DFC (US); born Auckland, 14 May 1920;
farmer; joined RNZAF9 Apr 1940; commanded No. 19 RNZAF Sqdn, 1944, and
No. 24 RNZAF Sqdn, 1944–45; killed in aircraft accident, 2 Apr 1955.
a distinguished pilot who had formerly commanded Kittyhawk and
Corsair squadrons in the Pacific. He had come to Burma to study
close-support tactics and it was typical of him that he should do this
from the cockpit of a Thunderbolt.
New Zealand Spitfire pilots flew during this period of the campaign
with Nos. 17, 152, 273 and 607 Squadrons. In the latter unit there
were eight New Zealanders, and Flight Lieutenant G. W. W. Smith
Squadron Leader G. W. W. Smith; born Wellington, 25 Oct 1921; insurance clerk;
joined RNZAF24 Nov 1940.
commanded one of the flights. The Spitfires played a notable part in
the battle of the Sittang Bend when, in addition to ground strafing,
they dropped supplies to our troops engaged in close fighting in
difficult country and at the height of the monsoon.
Beaufighters operating on night intruder missions over Burma were
led by Squadron Leader A. E. Browne, a former night-fighter pilot
over Britain. Beaufighters also ranged far and wide over Burma by
day, attacking enemy communications by road, rail, river and sea.
Flying Officer Bennett
Flying Officer H. J. Bennett; born Tuatapere, 11 Oct 1915; farmer; joined RNZAF17 Aug 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Feb 1945.
and Warrant Officer McPherson
Warrant Officer E. W. McPherson; born Onehunga, 25 Apr 1923; clerk; joined RNZAF9 Nov 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Feb 1945.
both lost
their lives in such operations; another pilot, Warrant Officer Osboldstone,
Flying Officer E. J. Osboldstone; born Wanganui, 27 Dec 1919; customs clerk; joined
RNZAF10 Mar 1941; prisoner of war, 14 Dec 1944.
was shot down behind the enemy lines but was uninjured;
he was taken prisoner but was fortunate enough to be sent to Rangoon,
where he was released when that city was captured shortly afterwards.
Mention must also be made of the work of the men who flew
Mosquito light-bombers. Squadron Leader I. A. Sutherland, for
example, commanded a flight in No. 110 Squadron and made many
attacks against long-range targets. He was lost only a few weeks before
the end, his burnt-out aircraft being found in the foothills near Magwe.
Flight Lieutenant Buchanan,
Flight Lieutenant J. G. Buchanan; born Auckland, 12 Mar 1920; teacher; joined
RNZAFApr 1942; killed on air operations, 2 May 1945.
who had previously completed a tour
of operations with Hudsons at Guadalcanal, suffered a similar fate
after a very successful period with No. 110 Squadron.
Another Mosquito pilot, Flight Lieutenant Emeny
Flight Lieutenant C. S. Emeny; born Wellington, 11 Jan 1920; farmhand; joined
RNZAFJan 1940; prisoner of war, 9 Nov 1944.
of No. 45
Mosquito Squadron, survived a harrowing experience. On 9 November
1944, he took off with six other Mosquitos to attack Meiktila airfield.
Over the target the Mosquitos met determined opposition from both
fighters and flak. Emeny's aircraft was hit, burst into flames and
crashed with such force that he and his navigator were reported
‘missing believed killed’. But both men somehow managed to hack
their way out of the wreckage and, although injured and suffering from
burns, they crawled to a native village near Meiktila. Here they were
robbed by Burmese and then betrayed to the Japanese. The two airmen
were taken to an army post, where they were kept standing for four
nights and three days without food in an unsuccessful effort to make
them divulge information. They were then removed to Rangoon jail.
Emeny had severe burns about the head and severe skin injuries to
one leg, but the Japanese gave him no medical attention and he was
forced to doctor himself with his first-aid kit. Emeny, who in civilian
life had had some experience of veterinary work, later assisted in the
medical care of prisoners, who received little, if any, such attention
from the Japanese.
Liberator heavy bombers played an important part in the final
stages of the campaign. Japanese supply routes into Burma, especially
the Bangkok-Moulmein railway, remained a primary target and
continued to receive repeated attacks by day as well as by night.
Mines were also laid in enemy waters, a task in which the crews of
No. 160 Squadron, based on Ceylon, operated regularly; their longest
sorties were to Singapore, a round trip of 3350 miles which involved
twenty-one hours' flying.
During this period the Liberators were also frequently employed
in close support of our ground forces. Indeed, while the Fourteenth
Army was fighting its way south towards Rangoon, over half the
heavy bomber missions were directed against targets on or near the
battlefront. These included storage dumps near the Japanese railhead
at Madaya and the district of Yenangyaung and, later on, villages
lying in the path of our troops moving against Meiktila. During the
assault on Mandalay, the Liberators joined in to smash Japanese
strongpoints and kill about a thousand of the enemy. ‘We got a great
kick out of helping the Army right on the spot,’ writes Flying Officer
J. A. Wilkinson, who flew as wireless operator with the Commanding
Officer of No. 99 Squadron. ‘Much of our work took us right into
Siam, hitting at Japanese communications but it had not the same
thrill as we experienced in close support.’
Some forty New Zealanders—pilots, navigators, wireless operators
and air gunners—flew RAF Liberators over Burma during 1945.
Of the pilots the work of Flying Officer ‘Johnny’ Haycock was more
or less typical. Operating first with No. 99 and then with No. 159
Squadron, he took part in raids on targets in the Arakan, in central
Burma, Bangkok and Rangoon. He had a narrow escape on one daylight raid against Rangoon. Caught in a cone of intense flak, his
Liberator was repeatedly hit; rudder and elevator controls were badly
damaged and the rear-gunner seriously wounded. Pulling out of the
resulting dive, Haycock managed to retain control while his flight
engineer repaired the damaged cables with cord. When he landed back
at base four hours later over 150 holes were counted in the aircraft. It
did not fly again.
Other pilots who flew consistently with the RAF Liberators were
Flying Officer Knewstubb,
Flying Officer R. M. Knewstubb; born Dunedin, 24 May 1921; carpenter; joined
RNZAF23 Jul 1942.
Pilot Officer Lee
Flying Officer R. Lee; born Westhoughton, Bolton, England, 20 Jul 1918; clerk;
joined RNZAFMar 1942.
and Warrant Officer
E. P. Stocker of No. 99 Squadron, and Pilot Officers Appleby
Flying Officer A. D. Appleby; born Waimate, 8 Aug 1917; fruitgrower; joined RNZAFMar 1942.
and
McPhee
Flying Officer J. C. McPhee; born Wellington, 21 Jun 1918; accountant; joined RNZAF9 Nov 1941.
with No. 215 Squadron. Pilot Officer Bullen
Pilot Officer R. M. Bullen, DFC; born Christchurch, 8 Jan 1918; carpenter; joined
RNZAFMay 1942; killed on active service, 26 Jul 1945.
captained a
Liberator of No. 358 Squadron on many sorties to drop supplies to
underground organisations in South-east Asia.
Warrant Officer Stewart,
Warrant Officer D. McK. Stewart; born Dundee, Scotland, 5 Jun 1908; wood machinist;
joined RNZAF18 Apr 1942.
a rear-gunner with No. 99 Squadron, was
probably the oldest member of aircrew in Burma. He was thirty-seven
years of age, almost double that of most air gunners. In the early days
of the war he had been turned down for the Army because he had lost
two fingers and for the Air Force because he was married. Then the
RNZAF announced that it would take married men. Stewart enlisted
at once, trained in Canada and finally arrived in India in August 1943,
where he subsequently flew over 220 hours on operations over Burma
and Thailand as an air gunner.
Some remarkably fine work was done by the crews of the RAF's
two photographic reconnaissance squadrons during 1945. Indeed,
not even in Europe were individual sorties surpassed in daring and
execution. Bangkok, in distant Thailand, was regularly photographed
by the Mosquitos of No. 684 Squadron, and they also provided a
detailed picture of targets as far away as Sumatra, southern Malaya,
Singapore and Java. Towards the end of August 1945, a Mosquito
based on the Cocos Islands made a round trip over Penang and Taipang
of 2600 miles in just over nine hours. Apart from the distances they
flew the photo-reconnaissance pilots, perhaps more than other branches
of the service, had to combat the weather in order to achieve success.
More than once did Mosquitos return with torn fabric or ominous
evidence of the severe climatic conditions through which they had
passed. For these aircraft, in the construction of which wood and
adhesives were much used, were not altogether suitable for operations
in the tropics, remarkable though their performance was.
Six New Zealand pilots deserve special mention for their part in
these photographic missions. They are Squadron Leaders K. J.
Newman and W. M. Murray, both of whom commanded flights in
No. 684 Squadron; Flight Lieutenants C. G. Andrews,
Squadron Leader C. G. Andrews, DFC; born Dunedin, 28 Jun 1917; draughtsman;
joined RNZAFJul 1940.
J. Irvine and
J. W. S. Clark,
Flight Lieutenant J. W. S. Clark, DFC; born Auckland, 29 Jun 1918; clerk; joined
RAFApr 1940.
senior pilots with the same unit, and Flight Lieutenant
C. E. Papps who led a flight in No. 681 Spitfire Squadron. Both
Murray and Andrews had previously flown Hudsons in the South-west
Pacific, while Papps had already done two tours in South-east Asia
on bombers.
Several interesting incidents must be recorded. In May 1945,
Squadron Leader Newman was appointed to take over command of a
squadron detachment based at the Cocos Islands in the Indian Ocean.
Before so doing he went to England to collect a Mosquito aircraft,
which he flew back to India in what was then a record time of 13 hours
25 minutes. That same month, in between operations, Irvine and
Andrews made a flight over Mount Everest and took what were
probably the first motion pictures of the world's highest mountain.
Andrews had an unusual experience towards the very end of the
campaign. While on a photographic mission over Singapore an engine
failed, and rather than attempt the long flight back over the ocean
he decided to land on Kallang airfield. He was met by armed Japanese,
but to his surprise they offered every assistance. Andrews was motored
to Changi prison camp, where the Senior British Officer was able to
make arrangements for RAF ground staff to effect repairs to the
Mosquito. Andrews spent the night with the prisoners. The next
morning, with 150 gallons of Japanese aviation fuel in the tank, he
took off and returned safely to base.
* * * * *
After the fall of Burma preparations continued for the invasion of
Malaya—Operation ZIPPER as it was known. To support the landings
more than 500 aircraft of strategic, tactical and general reconnaissance
units of the RAF were assembled at airfields in Burma, Ceylon and the
Cocos Islands. At the same time the supply of arms and equipment to
the underground organisation in Malaya was intensified and photographic aircraft worked hard to provide advanced information for all
three services. One of their tasks was to secure detailed pictures of
the proposed landing areas, and most of this was done by a detachment
of four Mosquitos from the Cocos Islands under the control of Wing
Commander Newman of No. 684 Squadron.
The assault, however, was never carried out; instead it became an
occupation. For the Japanese homeland was already under heavy attack
by American bombers from Pacific bases. Then, on 6 August, the first
atomic bomb fell on Hiroshima; over four square miles of the city
were destroyed and more than 100,000 people perished. Three days
later a second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, and on the 14th the
Japanese accepted the Allied demand for unconditional surrender.
The war in the Far East was over.
Had Operation ZIPPER proceeded as planned, there is little doubt
that it would have succeeded. With our ascendancy in the air the
invasion forces would have received powerful and continuous support
from the outset, with a result similar to that achieved in the Normandy
landings in Europe. All the same, it is worth noting that the Japanese
intended to put up a stiff fight. For example, they planned to use all
their remaining aircraft, including training and transport machines, as
suicide aircraft against the Allied invasion. They had already had some
experience in making suicide attacks during the Philippines campaign
and had seen how effective they could be against concentrations of
shipping and, in particular, against battleships and carriers. Nor were
pilots lacking, inexperienced though many of them were. Indeed, it is
important to observe that this final attack corps of suicide pilots was
made up of ardent volunteers determined to proceed to their doom,
elated in the thought that they were dying for their Emperor.
The actual surrender of the Japanese in South-east Asia was signed
at Singapore on 12 September 1945, but before that date pilots and
crews of the RAF were already engaged on the tasks of peace. They
spread news of the enemy's surrender by dropping millions of leaflets
on the principal towns and the known prisoner-of-war camps; they
warned prisoners that they would shortly be freed; they dropped
medical supplies, teams of medical officers and wireless operators whose
task it was to signal the most urgent requirements of the camp in which
they landed; they dropped quantities of food, clothing and other
necessities, including millions of tablets of atebrin for use against
malaria; and finally, in what has been described as one of the greatest
mercy missions of the war, they brought out many thousands of
prisoners from Malaya, Thailand, French Indo-China, Sumatra and
Java.
New Zealand crews shared in these tasks, which were carried out
in the main by Liberators from bases in Bengal, Ceylon, and the Cocos
Islands, by Dakotas flying from Rangoon and by Sunderland flying-boats from the Cocos Islands. In the first week of September, the
Dakotas alone dropped or landed over 400 tons of stores and brought
back 4000 prisoners of war; the second week they delivered 600 tons
and brought back another 3700 men. By the middle of the month,
9000 prisoners had been flown from Bangkok to Rangoon, most of
whom, gaunt and emaciated, were survivors from the ordeal of
working on the notorious Burma-Thailand railway.
To achieve these results crews worked extremely hard, sometimes
to the point of exhaustion. Many of their flights were equivalent to an
Atlantic crossing, and such great distances and the adverse weather
then prevalent were not easily overcome. But they completed their
mission—a mission which speeded the reunion of thousands of men,
who had suffered much at the hands of the enemy, with their waiting
families in Britain, in the Dominions and, indeed, in Holland. Its
successful accomplishment was a fitting conclusion to the part which
the Royal Air Force had played during the long campaign in South-east
Asia.
Appendix I
PRINCIPAL EVENTS OF THE MIDDLE EAST AND
MEDITERRANEAN CAMPAIGNS 1940–45
(With particular reference to Air Operations)
1940june10Italy declared war on Great Britain and France.11Malta raided by Italian aircraft. First sorties by ‘Faith’, ‘Hope’ and ‘Charity’.11East African campaign began.11RAF Blenheim bombers made dawn attack on Italian airfield at
El Adem.28Sunderland flying-boat operating from Malta attacked and sank
first Italian U-boat to be destroyed by aircraft during the war.28Hurricanes made their first sorties from Malta.august5Italians invade British Somaliland.18Evacuation of British Somaliland.september5The first consignment of aircraft for delivery over the West
African reinforcement route arrived at Takoradi.13Italian forces advanced across Egyptian border.18The first convoy of erected aircraft took off from Takoradi for the Middle East.october28Italy invaded Greece from Albania.november1RAF and Fleet Air Arm began attacks on Italian and Albanian
ports from Malta.11First RAF offensive operation over Greece – attack on Valona
airfield.december9First British offensive in the Western Desert began.16British offensive opened in Italian East Africa.16Egypt cleared of all Italian forces.1941january3Strong Luftwaffe contingents transferred to Italy and Sicily.9German and Italian air attacks on convoy in Sicilian Channel. HMS Illustrious damaged. HMS Southampton lost.10Beginning of the Illustrious blitz on Malta which continued for ten days.22Australian troops captured Tobruk.february6British forces entered Benghazi.8El Agheila occupied by British forces.marchEnemy air raids on Malta continue.4British forces from Egypt disembark in Greece.28–29Naval battle at Cape Matapan. RAF aircraft from Greece take part.29South African troops supported by SAAF occupied Diredawa, Abyssinia.30Enemy counter-offensive in Western Desert.april3British forces evacuated Benghazi.6Imperial forces entered Addis Ababa.6Germans invade Greece and Yugoslavia.12Siege of Tobruk began.18Yugoslav Army surrendered to German forces.27Germans entered Athens.27Axis forces crossed the Egyptian frontier and occupied Halfaya Pass.28German forces captured Sollum – front line stabilised at Halfaya-Capuzzo.may1First attacks by Blenheims based on Malta against enemy shipping in transit to North Africa.2Evacuation of Imperial forces from Greece completed.2Siege of RAF Habbaniya began.6Iraqi rebels driven from Habbaniya.17Italian forces in East Africa surrendered.20Germans invaded Crete – first large-scale airborne invasion.28–31British and Dominion troops evacuated from Crete.31End of hostilities in Iraq.june8Imperial and Free French forces entered Syria.15–18Operation battleaxe to relieve Tobruk failed.july11Hostilities in Syria ceased.25British convoy arrives at Malta after two-day battle.25–26German air/sea attack on the Grand Harbour of Malta repulsed
with heavy enemy losses.30AVM Arthur Coningham assumes appointment as AOC Desert Air Force.august25British and Russian forces entered Iran.november18British crusader offensive in Western Desert began.december10Siege of Tobruk raised.24British forces retake Benghazi.1942january11AVM Keith Park takes up appointment as AOC Egypt.21Second counter-offensive in the Western Desert by Rommel,
east from El Agheila.29German forces retake Benghazi and advance on Barce.februaryRAF operates intensively in support of ground forces. Bombers
attack airfields in Sicily; and in North Africa the ports of
Benghazi and Tripoli and enemy shipping are the main targets.20Western Desert battle line stabilised at Gazala.marchHeavy German air attacks on Malta.10First operations by Spitfires from Malta.aprilPeak of enemy air attacks on Malta.may7–10Spitfire reinforcements, flown off the aircraft carriers Wasp and
Eagle, arrived in Malta.26Axis offensive opened at Gazala. Beginning of the Battle for Egypt.june10Bir Hacheim evacuated by Allied forces.11–12First USAAF attack in the Middle East/Mediterranean theatre.
Fifteen Liberators raided Ploesti oilfields.17–18Eighth Army withdrew to the Egyptian border, leaving a
garrison at Tobruk.21Tobruk captured by the Germans.julyFurther enemy attempt to neutralise Malta by air attack.1German forces advancing into Egypt halted at El Alamein.15AVM Keith Park becomes AOC Malta.AUGUST
31 to SEPTEMBER
6
OCTOBERBattle of Alam el Halfa. Rommel's final attempt to break
through at El Alamein defeated.11–19Final enemy attempt to subdue Malta by air attack is defeated.23–24Eighth Army offensive opened at El Alamein. RAF provides
maximum air support.novemberRAF makes a great contribution to the defeat of Axis forces
in the desert and to the success of the Allied invasion of North-west Africa.3In Egypt Axis forces began retreating westwards from El
Alamein.8Allied forces landed in French North Africa (Operation torch).11Admiral Darlan ordered cease fire of French forces in North
Africa.German occupation of Tunis and Bizerta.13Tobruk recaptured by Allied forces.14Tunisia entered by British First Army from Algiers.20Benghazi entered by British Eighth Army.december13German forces withdraw from El Agheila.1943january23British forces entered Tripoli.29Advanced units of Eighth Army crossed into Tunisia from
Tripolitania.february14–22Battle of Kasserine Pass.17Re-organisation of Allied Command.
Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder assumed command of
Allied Mediterranean Air Forces.27Eighth Army took up positions on the Mareth Line.march20–28Eighth Army broke through the Mareth Line.29El Hamma occupied by British forces.april10Sfax occupied by British forces.21British forces captured Enfidaville.may7Allies captured Tunis and Bizerta.13Allied campaign in North Africa ended.june11Pantellaria occupied by Allied forces.12Surrender of Lampedusa.july9–10Allied invasion of Sicily by air and sea.august16Messina, Sicily, captured by Allied forces.17End of Sicilian campaign.september3British and Canadian troops landed in southern Italy.3Armistice signed with Italy but not declared until 8 September.9British and American troops landed on Salerno beaches.14Allied landings in Sardinia.23Allied forces landed in Greece.27Foggia captured by Eighth Army.october1Naples occupied by Fifth Army.4Corsica captured.18Volturno River line cleared of enemy forces.23Formation of Mediterranean Allied Strategical Air Force.december1German line on Sangro River broken.1944january22Fifth Army troops landed at Anzio and Nettuno.februaryBattle for Cassino began.15Allied Air Forces bombed Montecassino monastery, dropping
some 450 tons of bombs.march15Cassino attacked by Allied Air Forces; 1100 tons of bombs
dropped.19Operation strangle – the rail interdiction programme in
Italy – began and continued until 11 May 1944.april2Russian forces entered Rumania.5First of a series of twenty-four day and night attacks by American and British aircraft from the Mediterranean on the oil
refineries at Ploesti.8–9RAF bombers flew the first minelaying mission to the Danube.
Mines laid near Belgrade.may11–12Allied aircraft opened attacks against the Gustav Line in Italy.18Cassino and the monastery captured by the Allies.june1Formation of the RAF Balkan Air Force.4Fifth Army captured Rome.6Allied armies landed in Normandy.july12–16Twenty bridges across the Po River put out of use by Allied
air attacks.17Eighth Army crossed the Arno.august1Polish Underground Army began the Warsaw rising. Allied
aircraft dropped supplies and incurred heavy casualties before
the fighting ended on 3 October.11Eighth Army liberated Florence.15Allied invasion of southern France, preceded by an intensive
four-day air bombardment and attacks by airborne troops.30Ploesti captured by the Russians.september2Eighth Army broke through the Gothic Line.october4–5RAF aircraft flew their last minelaying operation to the
Danube.14Liberation of Athens.november2Greek mainland cleared of German forces.december3Beginning of civil war in Greece.4Eighth Army entered Ravenna, Italy.1945january14End of civil war in Greece.17Warsaw occupied by Russian forces.april10Final offensive by Fifth and Eighth Armies in Italy began.20Bologna captured by Allies.27Genoa occupied by Americans. In this month the Mediterranean Allied Air Force dropped its
record bomb load for one month – 56,296 tons.may2Surrender of German forces in Italy.
Appendix II
CHRONOLOGY OF PRINCIPAL EVENTS IN
SOUTH-EAST ASIA
1941JULYJapan occupied southern Indo-China.december7Japan launched air attacks on US bases in Hawaii, including
Pearl Harbour.8Japanese forces landed in Malaya – Singapore had its first air
raid.
Great Britain and United States declared war on Japan.9Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and the Netherlands declared war on Japan.
China declared war on Germany, Italy and Japan.10HMS Prince of Wales and Repulse sunk off Kuantan, Malaya,
by Japanese aircraft.19British forces evacuated Penang.23First Japanese air raid on Rangoon.1942januaryJapanese forces continue to advance southwards in Malaya.19Burma invaded by Japanese forces from Siam.
Mergui and Tavoy evacuated.31All British units now withdrawn into Singapore Island from the mainland.february5Japanese forces cross Salween River, Burma.8–9Japanese forces landed on Singapore Island.11Japanese forces invaded Java.14Japanese paratroop attack at Palembang, Sumatra.15Singapore surrendered to Japanese forces.21Allied forces withdraw across Sittang River, Burma.27Java Sea naval battle.Japanese forces cut the Rangoon-Mandalay railway.march6Batavia captured by Japanese forces.7Rangoon evacuated by British forces.8Surrender of Java.23Andaman Islands, Bay of Bengal, occupied by Japanese forces.april2British forces withdraw from Prome, Burma.4British cruisers Dorsetsbire and Cornwall sunk by Japanese
bombers off Colombo.5Japanese air attack on Colombo.9Japanese air raid on Trincomalee, Ceylon.9Aircraft carrier Hermes sunk by Japanese aircraft off
Trincomalee.29Japanese captured Lashio – southern terminal of the Burma Road.may1Japanese captured Mandalay.5Japanese troops cross Chinese frontier on the Burma Road.8Japanese captured Akyab on Bay of Bengal.
Myitkyina, North Burma, occupied by Japanese.juneAllied forces begin reorganising in India.Air supply route from India to China ‘over the Hump’ now
in operation.december10Construction of Ledo Road commenced.14British forces open first Arakan offensive.20First Japanese air raid on Calcutta.1943february16First Wingate expedition entered Burma.may7British forces withdraw from the Arakan.august27Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten appointed Supreme Commander South-east Asia.october30Renewal of battle for air supremacy over Burma.
RAF fighter squadrons begin re-equipping with Spitfires.november16Formation of Air Command, South-east Asia, under Air Chief
Marshal Sir Richard Peirse.december21General Stilwell's forces began advance towards Myitkyina.31RAF Spitfires score notable success against Japanese raiders
off Arakan coast.1944januaryBritish forces begin second Arakan campaign.10Maungdaw, Arakan, recaptured.february4Japanese counter-attack in Arakan.23Japanese offensive in Arakan defeated – Allied air supply and
support a decisive factor.march5Wingate's second Chindit expedition (Operation thursday)
began.8Strong Japanese offensive launched in central front in Manipur.31Japanese forces cut Dimapur-Kohima road. Start of siege of
Imphal. Allied forces there now supplied entirely by air.april16Kohima relieved.may11Chinese forces crossed Salween River and commenced drive
to free the Burma Road.17American and Chinese forces recaptured Myitkyina airfield.june20Japanese forces in retreat from Imphal.august3Myitkyina town captured by Allied forces.19Japanese forces now driven from India.october15Allied offensive from Myitkyina towards Mandalay began.18Tiddim recaptured by Fourteenth Army.november9Fort White recaptured by Fourteenth Army.13Kalemyo recaptured by Fourteenth Army.december2Kalewa occupied by Allied forces.15Bhamo recaptured by Allied forces.24Last Japanese air attack on Calcutta.1945january3Akyab occupied unopposed by Allied forces.7Shwebo occupied by Fourteenth Army.21Allied assault on Ramree Islandmarch3Meiktila captured by British forces.6Lashio captured by Chinese forces.20Mandalay recaptured by Allied forces.april19Magwe recaptured.may1Pegu occupied by Fourteenth Army.
Allied forces landed south of Rangoon.2RAF pilot lands at Mingaladon airfield and enters Rangoon.3Rangoon occupied by Allied forces.august6First atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima, Japan.9Second atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Japan.15Japan accepted Allied demand for unconditional surrender.
Allied aircraft begin dropping medical teams and supplies to
PW camps in Burma and Siam.september2Surrender of Japan signed at Tokyo.10Allied aircraft begin evacuation of prisoners of war.
Singapore reoccupied by Allied forces.
Appendix III
PRINCIPAL OPERATIONAL AIRCRAFT OF ROYAL
AIR FORCE IN MIDDLE EAST AND SOUTH-EAST
ASIA
[Note: The performance figures given in these appendices are those
achieved in still air. It should be remembered that aircraft were often
modified in various ways and adapted for special tasks, when their performances varied from those shown.]
RAFFighters and Fighter-BombersAircraft Name and markMaximum SpeedService CeilingRate of ClimbArmamentBeaufighter IF324 m.p.h. at 11,750 feet27,000 feet9-4 minutes to 15,000 feetSix 303 in. Four 20 m.m.Blenheim IVF266 m.p.h. at 11,800 feet26,500 feet10 minutes to 15,000 feetSeven -303 in.Buffalo292 m.p.h. at 20,000 feet30,650 feet6-1 minutes to 13,000 feetFour -50 in.Gladiator245 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet32,500 feet7 minutes to 15,000 feetFour -303 in.Hurricane I316 m.p.h. at 17,500 feet33,200 feet6-3 minutes to 15,000 feetEight -303 in.Hurricane IIA342 m.p.h. at 22,000 feet37,000 feet8-2 minutes to 20,000 feetEight -303 in.Hurricane IIB342 m.p.h. at 22,000 feet36,500 feet8-4 minutes to 20,000 feetTwelve -303 in. (two 250 lb. bombs).Hurricane IIC339 m.p.h. at 22,000 feet35,600 feet9-1 minutes to 20.000 feetFour 20 m.m.Hurricane IID Tank-buster316 m.p.h. at 19,000 feet33,500 feet-75 minutes to 2000 feetFour 40 m.m. Two -303 in.Hurricane IV (R/P)284 m.p.h. at 13,500 feet34,000 feetEight 60 lb. R/P. Two -303 in.Kittyhawk I350 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet29,000 feet8-7 minutes to 15,000 feetFour or six -50 in.Mohawk323 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet32,700 feet5 minutes to 16,000 feetVarious combinations of -30 in. and -50 in.Mosquito II370 m.p.h. at 14,000 feet35,000 feet7 minutes to 15,000 feetFour 20 m.m. Four -303 in.Mosquito XII (N/F)370 m.p.h. at 14,000 feet35,000 feet7 minutes to 15,000 feetFour 20 m.m.Mustang III450 m.p.h. at 28,000 feet42,000 feet10-5 minutes to 20,000 feetFour -50 in. (two 500 lb. bombs).Spitfire I355 m.p.h. at 19,000 feet34,000 feet6-2 minutes to 15,000 feetEight -303 in.Spitfire V375 m.p.h. at 20,250 feet38,000 feet7 minutes to 15,000 feetTwo 20 m.m. Four -303 in.Spitfire IX408 m.p.h. at 25,000 feet43,000 feet6-7 minutes to 20,000 feetTwo 20 m.m. Four -303 in. (one 500 lb. and two 250 lb. bombs).Spitfire IX (H/F)416 m.p.h. at 27,500 feet44,000 feet6-4 minutes to 20,000 feetTwo 20 m.m. and four -303 in. or two 20 m.m. and two -50 in. (one 500 lb. bomb and two 250 lb. bombs).Spitfire IX (L/F)404 m.p.h. at 21,000 feet41,500 feet6-4 minutes to 20,000 feetAs above.Tomahawk I338 m.p.h. at 16,000 feet30,500 feet7-8 minutes to 15,000 feetTwo -50 in. Four -303 in.Vultee Vengeance (divebomber)273 m.p.h. at 11,500 feet22,000 feet15 minutes to 15,000 feetSix -30 in. (two 500 lb. bombs and two 250lb. bombs.)
RAFBombersAircraft Type and MarkNormal Cruising SpeedRadius of Action with Associated Bomb LoadTypical Bomb LoadArmamentBaltimore III190 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet475 miles with 2000 lb.Eight 250 lb. or four 500 lb.Ten -30 in. Four -303 in.Blenheim I165 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet460 miles with 1000 lb.Four 250 lbThree -303 in.Blenheim IV180 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet730 miles with 1000 lb.Four 250 lb.Five -303 in.Blenheim V (Bisley)170 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet615 miles with 1000 lb.Four 250 lb.Five -303 in.Bombay120 m.p.h. at 10,000 feet350 miles with 2000 lb.Eight 250 lb.Two -303 in.Boston III200 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet500 miles with 2000 lb.Four 500 lb. or two 1000 lb.Eight -303 in.Halifax II195 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet950 miles with 3000 lb. or 250 miles with 13,000 lb.Two 2000 lb. and six 1000 lb.Eight -303 in.Liberator II180 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet1215 miles with 6000 lb.Twelve 500 lb. or six 1000 lb.Seven -50 in. or eleven -303 in.Liberator VI195 m.p.h. at 20,000 feet1150 miles with 4000 lb. or 500 miles with 12,800 lb.Twelve 500 lb. or eight 1000 lb.Ten -50 in.Marauder190 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet780 miles with 1200 lb.Eight 500 lb.Two -30 in. Three -50 in.Maryland I176 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet600 miles with 1500 lb. or 540 miles with 2000 lb.Four 250 lb. and one 500 lb.Eight -303 in.Wellesley135 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet1000 miles with 1060 lb.Eight 112 lb. and eight 20 lb. bombs. 250 lb. and eight 25 lb. bombsTwo -303 in.Wellington 1C165 m.p.h. at 10,000 feet1200 miles with 1000 lb. or 600 miles with 4500 lb.One 1000 lb., four 500 lb. and one 250 lb. or six 500 lb. and one 250 lb.Six -303 in.Wellington 111175 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet1100 miles with 1500 lb. or 750 miles with 4500 lb.One 4000 lb. or one 1000 lb., six 500 lb. and three 250 lb.Six -303 in.Wellington X180 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet1050 miles with 1500 lb. or 600 miles with 4500 lb.Sixteen 250 lb. or two 2000 lb.Six -303 in.
RAFCoastal AircraftAircraft TypeCruising Speed and EnduranceAssociated Bomb Load or Depth-charge LoadArmamentBeaufighter 1C180 knots - 5 hours1000 lb.Four 20 m.m. Six -303 in.Beaufighter X (R/P)180 knots - 4 hours400 lb. or eight 60 lb. R/PFour 20 m.m.Beaufort 1150 knots - 6 hours1500 lb. or one 18 in. torpedoFour -303 in.Catalina 1 F/B100 knots - 17 ½ hours or 25 hours2000 lb. Nil.Six -303 in.Hudson 1125 knots - 6 hours750 lb.Seven -303 in.Sunderland 1 F/B115 knots - 12 hours2000 lb.Seven -303 in.Sunderland 11 F/B110 knots - 11 ½ hours2000 lb.Seven -303 in.Sunderland 111 F/B110 knots - 10 ½ hours2000 lb.Seven -303 in.Vildebeeste82 knots - 4 ½ hoursOne 18 in. torpedo or 1000 lb.Six -303 in. Two -303 in.Wellington 1C125 knots - 10 ½ hours1500 lb.Six -303 in.Wellington VIII L/L120 knots - 8 ½ hours1000 lb.Six -303 in.
Appendix IV
PRINCIPAL OPERATIONAL AIRCRAFT OF GERMAN
AIR FORCE IN MIDDLE EAST
German Fighters
Aircraft Type and MarkMaximum SpeedService CeilingRate of ClimbArmamentFocke-Wulf 109A3385 m.p.h. at 19,000 feet36,000 feet6-5 minutes to 18,000 feetFour 20 m.m. Two 7-9 m.m.Focke-Wulf 190D435 m.p.h. at 25,000 feet39,000 feet6-5 minutes to 20,000 feetOne 30 m.m. Two 20 m.m. Two 13 m.m.Junkers 88 C5347 m.p.h. at 20,000 feet30,200 feet10.3 minutes to 18,500 feetSix 7-9 m.m. Three 20 m.m.Messerschmitt 109E355 m.p.h. at 18,000 feet35,000 feet6-2 minutes to 16,500 feetTwo 7-9 m.m. Two 20 m.m.Messerschmitt 109F395 m.p.h. at 22,000 feet36,500 feet5-75 minutes to 17,000 feetTwo 7-9 m.m. Three 20 m.m.Messerschmitt 109G400 m.p.h. at 22,000 feet38,500 feet6 minutes to 19,000 feetTwo 7-9/13 m.m.Messerschmitt 110G368 m.p.h. at 19,000 feet36,800 feet7-3 minutes to 18,000 feetSix 7-9 m.m. Four 20 m.m. One 37 m.m.Messerschmitt 210370 m.p.h. at 21,000 feet29,000 feet11-8 minutes to 19,000 feetTwo 20 m.m. Two 13 m.m. Two 7-9 m.m.Messerschmitt 262 (jet aircraft)500-550 m.p.h. at 29,000 feet39,500 feet5 minutes to 32,800 feetFour 30 m.m. Three 20 m.m. or six 30 m.m.Arado 234B (jet aircraft)490 m.p.h. at 25,000 feet38,000 feet8 minutes to 20,000 feetFour or five 20 m.m.
German Bomber and Reconnaissance Aircraft
Aircraft Type and MarkNormal Cruising SpeedRadius of Action With Associated Bomb LoadTypical Bomb LoadArmamentDornier 217E240 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet585 miles with 4400 lb.Four 1100 lb. or two 2200 lb. and four 110 lb.Four 7-9 m.m. Four 13 m.m. One 15 m.m.Focke-Wulf 200 (Condor)210 m.p.h. at 16,000 feet1350 miles on recce without bombs or 1075 miles with 3600 lb.Three 1100 lb. or five 550 lb.Three 15/20 m.m. and three 13 m.m.Heinkel 111210 m.p.h. at 17,000 feet760 miles with 2200 lb.Four 550 lb.Seven 7-9 m.m. Two 20 m.m.Heinkel 177260 m.p.h. at 17,000 feet550 miles with 12,100 lb. 1300 miles with 2200 lb.Six 550 lb. and four 2200 lb. or four 1650 lb. torpedoes or two HS293 glider bombsFive 13 m.m. Four 13/20 m.m.Junkers 88 A4254 m.p.h. at 16,400 feet640 miles with 4400 lb. 655 miles with 2200 lb.Ten 154 lb. and four 550 lb. or ten 154 lb. and four 1100 lb.Seven 7-9 m.m. One 20 m.m.Junkers 88 B3277 m.p.h. at 18,000 feet640 miles with 2200 lb.Four 550 lb. or four 550 lb. and ten 154 lb.Six 7-9 or two 7-9 m.m. and two 13 m.m.Junkers-S1290 m.p.h. at 18,000 feet350 miles with 1980 lb.Eighteen 110 lb. or eighteen 154 lb.One 7-9 m.m. One 13 m.m.Junkers 87B (Stukadive-bomber)200 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet180 miles with 1100 lb.One 1100 lb. or one 550 lb. and four 110 lb. or one 1100 lb. and four 110 lb.Three 7-9 m.m.Junkers 87D (Stukadive-bomber)200 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet360 miles with 2200 lb.One 1100 lb. and four 110 lb. or one 2200 lb. or one 2200 lb. and four 110 lb.Four 7-9 m.m.
Appendix V
PRINCIPAL OPERATIONAL AIRCRAFT OF ITALIAN
AIR FORCE
Italian Fighter Aircraft
Aircraft and TypeMaximum SpeedService CeilingRate of ClimbArmamentFiat CR 32233 m.p.h. at 10,000 feet28,000 feet5-3 minutes to 10,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m.Fiat CR 42270 m.p.h. at 13,100 feet32,000 feet5-5 minutes to 13,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m. or one 12-7 m.m. and one 7-7 m.m.Fiat G50300 m.p.h. at 14,500 feet32,000 feet6-4 minutes to 15,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m. or two 7-7 m.m. and two 12-7 m.m.Fiat G55380 m.p.h. at 20,000 feet38,000 feet5-8 minutes to 20,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m. Three 20 m.m.Macchi C200310 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet32,000 feet6-25 minutes to 15,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m. or two 7-7 m.m. and two 12-7 m.m.Macchi C202345 m.p.h. at 18,000 feet32,000 feet8-2 minutes to 18,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m. or two 7-2 m.m.
Italian Bomber and Reconnaissance Aircraft
Aircraft and TypeMaximum SpeedService CeilingRadius of Action With Associated Bomb LoadArmamentCant Z506 (Seaplane bomber)230 m.p.h. at 13,000 feet19.000 feet840 miles with 1750 lb. or 730 miles with 2640 lb.One 12-7 m.m. Three 7-7 m.m.Cant Z1007b280 m.p.h. at 13,000 feet27,500 feet825 miles with 1100 lb.Two 7-7 m.m. Two 12-7 m.m.Caproni Ca 312b230 m.p.h. at 13,120 feet23,000 feet1000 miles without bombsFour 7-7 m.m.Fiat BR 20255 m.p.h. at 13,500 feet25,000 feet675 miles with 2200 lb.One 12-7 m.m. Two 7-7 m.m.Savoia Marchetti SM79255 m.p.h. at 13,000 feet21,500 feet785 miles with 1100 lb. 595 miles with 2750 lb.Three 12-7 m.m. Two 7-7 m.m.Savoia Marchetti SM81210 m.p.h. at 15,000 feet24,500 feet515 miles with 2200 lb. or 450 miles with 4400 lb.Six 7-7 m.m.Savoia Marchetti SM82205 m.p.h. at 7000 feet17,000 feet1100 miles with 3200 lb.One 12-7 m.m. Four 7-7 m.m.
Appendix VI
PRINCIPAL OPERATIONAL AIRCRAFT OF JAPANESE AIR FORCE
Japanese Fighters
Aircraft TypeMaximum SpeedService CeilingRate of ClimbArmamentNakajima Army-I (Oscar)358 m.p.h. at 21,900 feet37,400 feet7-4 minutes to 20,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m.Kawasaki Army-2346 m.p.h. at 21,100 feet35,000 feet8 minutes to 20,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m. One 7-9 m.m. One 20 m.m.Kawasaki Army-3361 m.p.h. at 15,800 feet35,100 feet8-5 minutes to 20,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m. and two 7-7 m.m. or four 12-7 m.m.Nakajima Army-4427 m.p.h. at 20,000 feet38,800 feet5-8 minutes to 20,000 feetTwo 12-7 m.m. Two 20 m.m.Nakajima-Mitsubishi Navy-O (The Zero)358 m.p.h. at 22,000 feet35,100 feet7-8 minutes to 20,000 feetTwo 13-2 m.m. Two 7-7/13-2 m.m. Two 20 m.m.Kawanishi Navy ‘Shiden’416 m.p.h. at 19,000 feet39,100 feet6-1 minutes to 20,000 feetFour 20 m.m. Two 7-7 m.m.Mitsubishi Navy ‘Raiden’417 m.p.h. at 16,600 feet38,800 feet5-1 minutes to 20,000 feetFour 20 m.m.Nakajima Navy ‘Gekko’333 m.p.h. at 19,700 feet32,740 feet12-1 minutes to 20,000 feetFive 20 m.m.
Japanese Bomber and Reconnaissance Aircraft
Aircraft Typemaximum SpeedService CeilingRadius of Action With Associated Bomb LoadArmamentMitsubishi Army-4346 m.p.h. at 18,700 feet30,100 feet920 miles with 1875 lb.Four 12-7 m.m. One 20 m.m.Mitsubishi Army-97294 m.p.h. at 15,500 feet30,500 feet815 miles with 2200 lb.Four 7-7 m.m. One 12-7 m.m. One 20 m.m.Kawasaki Army-99228 m.p.h. at 19,900 feet34,300 feet750 miles with 880 lb.One 12-7 m.m. Three 7-9 m.m.Nakajima Army-100312 m.p.h. at 16,900 feet30,900 feet800 miles with 2200 lb.Three 7-9 m.m. Two 12-7 m.m. One 20 m.m.Mitsubishi Army - 100 (Dinah 3)420 m.p.h. at 10,700 feet40,600 feet865 miles on reconnaissanceOne 7-7 m.m.Nakajima Navy-1283 m.p.h. at 13,800 feet30,500 feet1535 miles with 2200 lb.Four 7-7 m.m. Four 20 m.m.Nakajima Navy-96270 m.p.h. at 19,600 feet34,250 feet1060 miles with 1100 lb.Four 7-7 m.m. One 20 m.m.Mitsubishi-Nakajima-Aichi Navy-97225 m.p.h. at 8000 feet27,500 feet320 miles with one 1765 lb. torpedoFour 7-7 m.m.Aichi Navy - 99 (divebomber)281 m.p.h. at 20,300 feet33,600 feet480 miles with 550 lb.Three 7-7 m.m.Aichi Navy ‘Susei’ (divebomber)377 m.p.h. at 19,300 feet36,400 feet1220 miles with 550 lb.Three 7-7 m.m.Nakajima Navy ‘Ginga’367 m.p.h. at 17,200 feet35,500 feet1215 miles with 1875 lb.Two 20 m.m.Nakajima Navy ‘Saiun’396 m.p.h. at 16,600 feet34,100 feet905 miles on reconnaissanceOne 7-9 m.m.Nakajima Navy ‘Tenzan’327 m.p.h. at 15,100 feet35,400 feet870 miles with one 1765 lb. torpedoTwo 7-7 m.m.
Glossary
AC-in-CAir Commander-in-ChiefACMBAircrew Medical BoardACSEAAir Command South-east AsiaAEAFAllied Expeditionary Air ForceAFCAir Force CrossAHQAir HeadquartersAOCAir Officer CommandingAOC-in-CAir Officer Commanding-in-ChiefASRAir-Sea RescueBAFOBritish Air Forces of OccupationBCOFBritish Commonwealth Occupation ForceBel.BelgiumBEMBritish Empire MedalBOACBritish Overseas Airways CorporationCASChief of the Air StaffCBCompanion of the BathCBECommander of the Order of the British EmpireCFIChief Flying InstructorCGIChief Ground InstructorCh.Republic of ChinaCIChief InstructorC-in-CCommander-in-ChiefCMBCentral Medical BoardCMECentral Medical EstablishmentCzech.CzechoslovakiaDCASDeputy Chief of the Air StaffDFCDistinguished Flying CrossDFMDistinguished Flying MedalDGMSDirectorate-General of Medical ServicesDG of PDirectorate-General of PersonnelD of ATDirectorate of Air TacticsDPMODeputy Principal Medical OfficerDSCDistinguished Service CrossDSOCompanion of the Distinguished Service OrderEFTSElementary Flying Training SchoolFAAFleet Air ArmF/BFlying BoatFr.FranceFTCFlying Training CommandFTSFlying Training SchoolGBEKnight Grand Cross of the Order of the British EmpireGCBKnight Grand Cross of the BathGr.GreeceH/FHigh FlyingHol.HollandHQHeadquartersIt.ItalyKCBKnight Commander of the BathKBEKnight Commander of the Order of the British EmpireL/FLow FlyingL/LLeigh LightMAAFMediterranean Allied Air ForcesMAPMinistry of Aircraft ProductionMBEMember of the Order of the British EmpireMCMilitary CrossMed. MEMediterranean and Middle EastNATONorth Atlantic Treaty OrganisationN/FNight FighterNor.NorwayNZEFNew Zealand Expeditionary ForceNWAAFNorth-west Africa Air ForceNWACAFNorth-west Africa Coastal Air ForceOBEOfficer of the Order of the British EmpireOTUOperational Training UnitPRPhotographic ReconnaissancePol.PolandRAAFRoyal Australian Air ForceRFCRoyal Flying CorpsRIAFRoyal Indian Air ForceRNRoyal NavyRNASRoyal Naval Air ServiceR/PRocket ProjectilesRus.RussiaSASOSenior Air Staff OfficerSEASouth-east AsiaSEACSouth-east Asia CommandSESOSenior Engineer Staff OfficerSFTSService Flying Training SchoolSHAEFSupreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary ForceSMECSpecial Medical Examination CentreSMOSenior Medical OfficerTAFTactical Air ForceUSAAFUnited States Army Air Force
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This volume was produced and published by the War
History Branch of the Department of Internal Affairs
Editor-in-ChiefM. C. Fairbrother, cbe, dso, edSub-EditorW. A. GlueArchives OfficerR. L. Kay
the author: Wing Commander H. L. Thompson, MA, served during
the Second World War with the Intelligence Branch of the Royal Air
Force. A former Auckland teacher and graduate of the University of
New Zealand, he was for some years before the war lecturer in English
and History at the Borough Polytechnic, London. He is the author of
the three volumes in this series dealing with the activities of New
Zealanders with the Royal Air Force.
r. e. owen, Government printer, wellington, new zealand—1959