Memories of the Battle of Britain

[U2RATTLEHUM]

Great post guys. A question was asked at the Nuremberg trial, "when did you know when you were losing the war, at Stalingrad? The German general replayed no the Battle of Britian.

[bobbysocks]

stories about some of the airmen who gave their all.

http://www.bbm.org.uk/airmenstories.htm

[flynlion]

Originally Posted by winny

I was all right for flying the next day. I'd have preferred to take a breather, but we were just too short of pilots.

I think this line sums it up best. Fatigue has killed far more pilots than bullets.

[winny]

Flight Lieutennant Myles Duke-Woolley 23 and 254 Squadrons

I lost many friends during the battle but none more courageous than Squadron Leader 'Spike' O'Brien.

Spike and I had our first combats on the night of 6th June 1940, and Spike's saga started then.

It was a gin clear night with a full moon, and Spike took a new pilot up with him in a Blenheim I to show him the sector that night.
After take off he was diverted and intercepted an He 111 that was returning after bombing Birmingham. In the gunfight the Heinkel went
down and Spike's Blenheim went out of contol in a spin. At that time no pilot had ever got out of a spinning Blenheim alive,
because the only way out was through the top sliding hatch and you then fell through the airscrew. The new boy probably didn't know that
but nevertheless he froze, and Spike had to get him out.

He undid his seatbelt, unplugged his oxygen, and threw him bodily out of the top hatch whilst holding his parachute ripcord.
He told me afterwards that he felt sick when the lad fell through the airscrew. Spike then had to get out himself. He grasped the
wireless aerial behind the hatch, pulled himself up it and then tured round so his feet were on the side of the fuselage.
He then kicked outwards as hard as he could. He felt the tip of an airscrew 'pat' him on the earpiece of his helmet.

He landed on the outskirts of a village and went to the nearest pub to ring base and ask for transport home. He got himself a pint
and sat down at a table to chat with another chap who was sitting there in uniform. After some time, thinking the chaps uniform was
a bit unusual, Spike asked him if he was a Pole or a Czech. Oh no said his companion in impeccable English, 'I'm a German pilot actually.
Just been shot down by one of your blokes.' At this Spike sprang to his feet and said, 'I arrest you in the name of the King. And anyway,
where did you learn English?' The German said 'That's all right. I won't try to get away. In fact I studied at Cambridge for 3 years, just down the way.'
Then he said, 'I shall be out of here in a week or two's time, you know.'
'Like bloody hell you will!' said Spike.
'Let's agree to disagree,' said the German, 'my shout, what's yours?' 'Hey you can't go buying me a drink! 'said Spike
'Why not? I've got plenty of English money and it's no more your pub than mine.' So that's what they did, sat and had a drink.

A few days later Spike was posted for a rest to a controllers course in the West Country. One morning when strolling along the tarmac of the airfield,
he was surprised to see Do-17 overhead at about 2,000 feet. Alongside the track there was a visiting Spitfire, Spike leapt in, started up, and took off
in pusuit. No helmet and no parachute, he caught the Dornier and shot it down. When the AOC 10 group heard the story he was immediately promoted to
command a Spitfire squadron at Middle Wallop.

In late August his squadron reinforced 11 Group on one sortie against a raid bt Me-110's on Hawkers Weybridge factory. Spike was seen to be engaging an Me-110,
beleived destroyed, whilst himself being attacked by another. Some 15 mins later he appeared in the circuit at Biggin Hill. He lowered the undercarriage and flaps
and was turning on to finals at around 600 feet when his aircraft caught fire. Probably an incendiary bullet had lodged in his petrol tanks and sparked of the
vapour above the fuel when it's level fell. He was seen to bale out, but his parachute was not fully deployed when he hit the ground and he was dead when the
ambulance reached him.

I spoke later to the Doctor who was in the ambulance. When he examined Spike's body, he found that his left arm had been shot off below the shoulder, and his left eye
had been shot out of his head. Yet he had flown that Spit right down to approach for a normal landing! It was almost unbeleivable that he had done that with one arm.
Throttle control, flap control, elevator trim - that's what you needed to juggle. Opening the roof is one handed - if you let go of the stick - but then to have
climbed out with those injuries and pulled the ripcord must have required almost superhuman will power and guts. But then that was Spike.

[FOZ_1983]

Originally Posted by winny

Flight Lieutennant Myles Duke-Woolley 23 and 254 Squadrons

I lost many friends during the battle but none more courageous than Squadron Leader 'Spike' O'Brien.

Spike and I had our first combats on the night of 6th June 1940, and Spike's saga started then.

It was a gin clear night with a full moon, and Spike took a new pilot up with him in a Blenheim I to show him the sector that night.
After take off he was diverted and intercepted an He 111 that was returning after bombing Birmingham. In the gunfight the Heinkel went
down and Spike's Blenheim went out of contol in a spin. At that time no pilot had ever got out of a spinning Blenheim alive,
because the only way out was through the top sliding hatch and you then fell through the airscrew. The new boy probably didn't know that
but nevertheless he froze, and Spike had to get him out.

He undid his seatbelt, unplugged his oxygen, and threw him bodily out of the top hatch whilst holding his parachute ripcord.
He told me afterwards that he felt sick when the lad fell through the airscrew. Spike then had to get out himself. He grasped the
wireless aerial behind the hatch, pulled himself up it and then tured round so his feet were on the side of the fuselage.
He then kicked outwards as hard as he could. He felt the tip of an airscrew 'pat' him on the earpiece of his helmet.

He landed on the outskirts of a village and went to the nearest pub to ring base and ask for transport home. He got himself a pint
and sat down at a table to chat with another chap who was sitting there in uniform. After some time, thinking the chaps uniform was
a bit unusual, Spike asked him if he was a Pole or a Czech. Oh no said his companion in impeccable English, 'I'm a German pilot actually.
Just been shot down by one of your blokes.' At this Spike sprang to his feet and said, 'I arrest you in the name of the King. And anyway,
where did you learn English?' The German said 'That's all right. I won't try to get away. In fact I studied at Cambridge for 3 years, just down the way.'
Then he said, 'I shall be out of here in a week or two's time, you know.'
'Like bloody hell you will!' said Spike.
'Let's agree to disagree,' said the German, 'my shout, what's yours?' 'Hey you can't go buying me a drink! 'said Spike
'Why not? I've got plenty of English money and it's no more your pub than mine.' So that's what they did, sat and had a drink.
A few days later Spike was posted for a rest to a controllers course in the West Country. One morning when strolling along the tarmac of the airfield,
he was surprised to see Do-17 overhead at about 2,000 feet. Alongside the track there was a visiting Spitfire, Spike leapt in, started up, and took off
in pusuit. No helmet and no parachute, he caught the Dornier and shot it down. When the AOC 10 group heard the story he was immediately promoted to
command a Spitfire squadron at Middle Wallop.

In late August his squadron reinforced 11 Group one one sortie against a raid bt Me-110's on Hawkers Weybridge factory. Spike was seen to be engaging an Me-110,
beleived destroyed, whilst himself being attacked by another. Some 15 mins later he appeared in the circuit at Biggin Hill. He lowered the undercarriage and flaps
and was turning on to finals at around 600 feet when his aircraft caught fire. Probably an incendiary bullet had lodged in his petrol tanks and sparked of the
vapour above the fuel when it's level fell. He was seen to bale out, but his parachute was not fully deployed when he hit the ground and he was dead when the
ambulance reached him.

I spoke later to the Doctor who was in the ambulance. When he examined Spike's body, he found that his left arm had been shot off below the shoulder, and his left eye
had been shot out of his head. Yet he had flown that Spit right down to approach for a norml landing! It was almost unbeleivable that he had done that with one arm.
Throttle control, flap control, elevator trim - that's what you needed to juggle. Opening the roof is one handed - if you let go of the stick - but then to have
climbed out with those injuries and pulled the ripcord must have required almost superhuman will power and guts. But then that was Spike.

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!! That made me chuckle.

As harsh as this may sound though, its prob best he died when he did. He was clearly meant to fly,it was everything to him. And we all know that had he survived that landing..... he wouldn't of ever been able to fly again

What dedication on his part.

[Gilly]

September 15th once more.
Remember the few.
Thank you gentlemen, you did us proud.

[Davedog74]

+1 gilly
raf hornchurch station diary august 31st 1940
a large formation of enemy bombers,a most impressive sight in vic formation at around 15,000, feet,reached the aerodrome and dropped thier bombs(probably sixty in all)the bombs landed in a line from the other side of our dispersal pens to the petrol dump,and beyond into elm park,perimeter track,dispersal and barrack block windows suffered,but no other damage to buildings was caused and the aerodrome ,in spite of its ploughed up condition,remained serviceable. 54 squadron was ordered off as the bombs were falling,and eight machines safely left the ground. the remaining section,however had just become airborne as the bombs exploded. all of these machines were wholly wrecked in the air. the survival of the pilots is a complete miracle. sergeant davis,taking off across the airfield towards the hangers,was thrown back to the other side of the river ingrebourne,two fields away,he scrambled out of his machine unharmed.
jack shenfield- mechanic, talking about the same raid poor old sergeant davis appeared hours later,asking for a cup of tea after being blown up, the whole fuselage went,the wings were left on the aerodrome ,and the fuselage blown over the river,which was quite a distance,how they all survived is a miracle

[winny]

Originally Posted by Davedog74

+1 gilly
raf hornchurch station diary august 31st 1940....

Here's that story from the one of the pilots view.

Flying Officer Al Deere 54 Squadron

On the 31st of August, I was held up taking off by a new pilot who'd got himself in the take off lane - didn't know where to go. He delayed me.
By the time I'd got him sorted out, I was the last off, and caught the bombs - and was blown sky high - the three of us were. But we all got away with it.
I got pretty badly concussed. The terrifying bit was that I was upside down in the cockpit, embedded in the ground. I could hardly see daylight and I could smell petrol.
I knew that I was likley to go up in flames at any moment. I heard this voice say, 'Are you there?' And it was Eric Edsall who was my number three. He had his wing blown off,
and had got out of his cockpit, saw me and had crawled across to the aircraft.

The Spitfire has a little side door which drops down. Eric managed to lever this open and got the straps and parachute undone, and managed to squeeze me out of this little door.
He couldn't walk as his hip was dislocated. So I got him up and carried him to the saftey of one of the hagers, just as some 109's came down to straffe us.
I was scalped and concussed - I had gone along upside down for about a 100 yards. As for the number two, he was blown outside the airfield perimeter still strapped inside his cockpit
and landed in a nearby creek (which we called sh*t creek), he landed the right way up and had to walk all the way round the wire to get back in. He arrived a couple of hours later.

Same event, as seen By Richard Hillary

I saw the three Spitfires. One moment they were about 20 feet up in close formation; The next catapulted apart as though on elastic. The leader [Deere] went over
on his back and ploughed along the runway with a rending crash of tearing fabric; No. 2 put his wing in and spun round on his airscrew, while the plane on the left was blasted,
wingless into the next field.