In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

shot down over dunkirk...SQNLDR K.B. McGlashan AFC

"...As the battle developed beneath me, two fighters, Messerschmitt Bf109s, slipped by 3,000 feet below emerging ahead and to my right at a great rate of knots. They were obviously seeking out the tails of my leading sections and had positioned themselves in the classic six o’clock position. I flicked my gun switch to ‘live’ and readied to roll my machine over to initiate a diving attack on the diving fighters. A screech came over my ineffectual TR9D radio, filling my helmet with deafening, squawking static. I later learned it was Geoff Howitt warning me of the five 109s diving on us, attacking from our port quarter. Howitt broke hard left and crossed in front of me, yet I was still none the wiser. Amidst this melee, I was concentrating on my attack and had totally neglected to look behind. The first indication I had of anything going wrong was when the armour plate behind my head began ringing like an alarm clock. Before I could draw breath, bright red tracers started bombarding my cockpit, whistling between my legs and ravaging the panels of Perspex and fabric to my left. The incendiary-tipped tracers assist the pilot in seeing where his shots are landing and from my perspective I could see them landing very well. As my instrument panel began disintegrating before my eyes, my thoughts leapt suddenly to the vapour-rich petrol tank that sat just behind the instruments. Momentary horror turned to short relief when I recalled that the tank was self-sealing.

The attack had been lightning quick. I slammed the control stick forward and to the right, entering a downward roll and sending the world spinning around. The back of my legs stung as metal splinters spat from the maze of piping fragmenting beneath my feet. Engine coolant, oil and all variety of hot fluids showered me as the scent of smoke began to fill the air. Foolishly I had been flying with my goggles atop my helmet and now the mix of smoke and oils that were bringing down my aeroplane were also serving to partially blind me. My cockpit had become a scene of absolute chaos. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the attack abated. Gathering my thoughts, I pulled the aircraft out of the dive and assessed my situation; not good. Bleeding oil and coolant, I knew my Hurricane was done for and I began readying myself to bail out. With the threat of fire growing, I cut the engine, switched off the fuel and set about sliding back the hood. My vision was getting worse and I fumbled to get the canopy back. Three times I tried and three times it slid closed. In my enthusiasm to get out, I was failing to lock the canopy open and a sense of incarceration came across me. Being trapped in a fiery cockpit was the dread of every fighter pilot and for a moment I began to wonder if this is how my war was to end. A moment after that, the second attack started.

The left hand side of my canopy exploded again as the red tracer ravaged what remained of my aircraft’s port side. With the engine shutdown, I was literally powerless. Again I slammed the stick forward, though this time to the left. I combined inertia with gravity, accelerating my wounded machine downwards. I felt a wallop and then a trickling sensation down the back of my leg and thought that I’d copped a hit in the backside. [It turned out to be a direct hit on an Agfa cartridge in my pocket, allowing the film to unfurl in my trousers.] Headlong, vertical and hurtling towards Terra Firma, I had a moment of unexpected clarity and recalled banter at the bar that formed a consensus that 109s were poor at recovering from dives. With the earth looming large in the windscreen and absolutely nothing left to lose, I decided to apply this theory. At the last possible moment I hauled back on the control column with all of my remaining might. As the blood drained from my head, my world faded to ‘black and white’ and then just black........."

[bobbysocks]

another blurb about SQNLDR K.B. McGlashan AFC
from the book DOWN TO EARTH: A Fighter Pilot's Experiences of Surviving Dunkirk, The Battle of Britain, Dieppe and D-Day

…as the Squadron’s only “single engined” pilot, I was to be sent to Abbotsinch to collect the sole dual control Battle in the country. On its return, the aircraft would be used to convert our “”twin engined” pilots to its ways with a minimum of pain. Well, that was the plan anyway…

…having familiarised myself with the type, I readied to take my new steed to its new home. The weather surrounding the airfield was bleak and foggy as I lifted off and started into the climb. Previously unaware of their presence, I found myself flying through a section of tethered barrage balloons over Glasgow. Through sheer good fortune I escaped harm at the hands of the helium-filled defence system. A few years later I would witness the lethal potential of Barrage Balloons as they dotted the skies over Crewe. One of our own, a Shorts Stirling, flew into the cables, exploding into a fireball before falling to earth and killing the entire crew. I could only reflect about my earlier escape.

With the near-miss behind me, I set course for Leconfield. Passing Thornton Hill, I had no sooner settled in for the flight when my engine stopped, leaving things very quiet. This was particularly embarrassing as I was not at a great height at the time and confronted with extremely limited options. It had been a very hard winter and the small rolling foothills were snow coated with a deeply frozen core of soil beneath. Without further ado I chose a field ahead. My selected area was divided by a small track crossing it and terminated with a house and garage at the far end. Not ideal, but it would have to do. Setting my speed and lining up on the field, I experienced a very uncomfortable feeling. The Battle was the first aircraft I had flown with retractable undercarriage and the proximity of the ground without my wheels lowered was rather unnerving. My next action seemed logical at that moment, but with the benefit of hindsight and experience, it was a basic error. I lowered the undercarriage.

I impacted the frozen earth well into the chosen landing site and bounced high above the snow. Floating over the track that I had noted on approach, my eyes caught those of a woman pushing a pram with a baby in it. I touched down again and stuck this time. Surmounting the crest of the hill, I started down at a great rate before striking a hedge which served to shear off my main wheels. The aircraft fell to its belly with little loss in speed initially and was now effectively a Royal Air Force toboggan heading straight for the residence’s garage. I tried to gain some directional control by kicking the rudders, though this proved very ineffective other than to slew the aircraft slightly from side to side. Throughout, the Battle’s course remained true. As I contemplated whether I would stop in time, one of the double doors opened and a head protruded to take in proceedings. The head was then rapidly withdrawn and reappeared through a side door, at speed, with body firmly attached.

[bobbysocks]

clobber kain and his hurricane...

Cobber' Kain was born in Hastings on 27 June 1918. Following school, he worked as a clerk in his father's warehousing business in Wellington.

In 1936 he obtained his private pilot's licence with the Wellington Aero Club before leaving New Zealand in November for London to join the RAF. Kain began his flying training in January 1937 and in late November was posted to 73 Squadron. Re-equipped with Hurricanes in 1938, the squadron was fully operational by March 1939 and on 24 August was ordered to mobilise for war.

Four days after war was declared 73's sixteen Hurricanes flew across the Channel to France. On 10 September 1939 Kain flew his first operational patrols, but saw no enemy activity. On a defensive patrol on 8 November Kain spotted a Do 17 reconnaissance aircraft ahead and above him. It began to climb and Kain followed, making two attacks but seeing no results. At 27,000 feet, with his Hurricane showing signs of strain, he attacked again and the Dornier dived steeply. Kain followed but pulled out when he saw fabric peeling off his wings. The Dornier crashed into a village, exploding on impact and killing the crew.

On 23 November he shot down another Do 17. Due to bad weather there was little flying in December, January and February. On 1 March 1940 Kain fought an action with two Bf 109's. His Hurricane was already damaged when he shot the first one down in flames. The second fighter attacked him, stopping the Hurricane's engine with a cannon shell but then flew off, leaving Kain to glide thirty miles from 20,000 feet to reach French territory. When his engine caught fire Kain prepared to bale out but got back in his seat when he saw his parachute strap was not in position. Fortunately the flames went out and Kain glided on to a forced-landing on Metz aerodrome.

On 23 February Kain received a Mention in Dispatches and in mid-March he was awarded the DFC. He was by now the centre of a blaze of publicity and his was a household name. On March 26 Kain destroyed a BF 109 and probably a second but then with his own engine on fire he baled out, with shell splinters to his left leg, a bullet-grazed left hand and burns to the face.

Kain went on leave to England on 2 April and before he returned his engagement was announced. Back with the squadron he damaged a Bf 110 on the 23rd. German air activity now intensified and on 10 May 1940 the blitzkrieg was launched. In the next ten days Kain destroyed five more enemy aircraft and probably destroyed or damaged another five.

On 22 May he was posted back to England. With other pilots he left early on the 23rd but on arrival Kain and another pilot were ordered to report back to 73 Squadron at once. They were put on administrative duties and Kain did not fly again until the 25th, when he destroyed a Do 17 but had to make an emergency landing in his damaged Hurricane. He destroyed an HS 126 on the 26th and another DO 17 on the 27th.

Kain continued to fly as his unit retreated from one airfield to the next and on 5 June he shot down a Bf 109. On the 7th he was ordered to return to England immediately. The following morning a group gathered to bid him farewell as he took off in his Hurricane to fly to Le Mans to collect his kit. Whether he felt that those watching below expected him to put on a last show will never be known but he performed a series of low level aerobatics before crashing into the ground. The Hurricane broke up and Kain, fatally injured, was thrown clear.

Kain's official score is fourteen confirmed victories but was more likely to be between fifteen and twenty. Whatever the true facts may be, 'Cobber' Kain - as the first Allied ace of the war - had ensured his place in history.