A Very Unusual Air War (43 page)

A number of ground staff personnel were killed at night by these silent assassins. It became obvious that under these conditions there was no chance of doing any test flying. I therefore flew north to Antwerp in the hope of an improvement but still no flying.

Living conditions were much better here as I was billeted in the Hotel Century, right in the city centre. The Germans had left behind some excellent chefs and a very good orchestra that played background music in the evenings. The most requested tune was, of course, the German war song, Lilly Marlene. We were under strict orders not to go sightseeing alone but always in threes or more. The danger here was not Werewolves but prostitutes, who were missing their German customers. I spent one pleasant evening in a nearby nightclub, listening to music and watching the very attractive girls performing. With a couple of American officers and one Brit I went into Brussels one morning for sightseeing and shopping. Luxury goods, clothes and furs could be bought very cheaply but perfume and jewellery were not particularly cheap. Those in the know took home two items that were in great demand, real coffee and toilet soap.

During my stay in Antwerp a number of V1s fell in the area; one in particular, during the night, fell near enough to break crockery and glass in the hotel. The weather continued to make test flying impossible so on the sixth day I decided to return to Wittering. When I asked the flying control, he initially refused to give me a clearance but finally agreed, making it clear that it was my own responsibility. After take-off I climbed to 12,000 feet into clear air and set an estimated course to the west. When I judged my position to be mid-Channel, I called Wittering control for a homing. They suggested that there was better weather at some southwest airfields, particularly Hurn.

This posed a problem as I was carrying a few parcels to be posted in England to wives and girlfriends of the chaps in Antwerp, plus some presents like perfume for Estelle. It was essential to land at base where there were no customs checks, so I carried on with the homing to Wittering and only saw the ground when I landed. Our ground staff stripped gun panels to quickly remove any incriminating material, plus my own parachute bag, which was hanging behind the armour plate that protected my head. On the outward flight I had carried a drop tank under each wing, which contained not petrol but many gallons of Mitchells and Butlers’ Best Bitter for the Grimsburgen messes! So ended an adventurous week.

18 November
: Looking back I find it incredible that I undertook these flights with nothing more than a set of maps and an absolute faith in radar and our ground controllers.

22 November
: Probably my nearest brush with death. On take-off, just before ‘unsticking’ at around 120 mph, the port oleo support strut broke and the left leg of the undercarriage collapsed. The port wing hit the ground, causing the aircraft to do a complete cartwheel. By good fortune it came to rest the right way up but badly damaged. It was a frightening situation as the fuselage ‘kinked’ just behind the cockpit, jamming the canopy closed. With fuel and coolant dripping, I was very relieved that help came quickly and I was released, badly frightened. Flying Officer Chadwick, the Unit photographic officer, was on hand to take the picture that has since appeared in many magazines and newspapers. There was no attempt to repair TP814 as many captured 109s were now available. It came to rest in one of the 1426 Flight hangars at Colley Weston, to be cannibalised for spares.

Following the rules, I flew again immediately after the crash and suffered no noticeable ill effects.

The Mk 21 was meant to be a big step forward, with a more powerful Griffon engine, four 20 mm cannons, cut down rear fuselage for better visibility and contra-rotating airscrews, each of three blades. Problems in controlling the increased torque with a single 11-foot-diameter airscrew were the reasons for changing to contra-rotating airscrews.

I went on to make eleven or so flights in the Mk 21 covering all aspects of the test programme and, at the CO’s request, wrote the draft report. For the first time there was an adverse report on a Spitfire. AFDU received LA201 towards the end of 1944. It was only 10/12 mph faster that the Mk XIV but apart from improved aileron control, it otherwise felt unstable, particularly in the horizontal plane. As a gun platform it proved poor and sighting was difficult. My comments were upheld by other Unit pilots and it was generally felt that the Mk 21 should not go into service, the Mk XIV being a much better aircraft. However, extensive modifications were made and a few months later the Spitfire Mk 21 was accepted for service.

27 November
: These bombs emitted coloured smoke which was released slowly after impact. They were intended for target marking.

In the absence of Squadron Leader Wade I was given an acting rank as O/C Flying. The Unit was upgraded to Squadron status and became AFDS.

1 December
: The development of bombing by fighters was something that had to be done. I hated it! Our lovely Spitfires were not meant to be used in this way. Ground attack, whether by the use of bombs, rockets, machine gun or cannon fire, was a most dangerous action. German light ack ack was most efficient and the casualties were horrendous.

6 December
: Comparative testing embraced all aspects of fighter use: mock combat, turning circles, rates of roll, climbs, dives, speed runs, operational and absolute ceiling.

17 December
: Rocket Projectiles were carried on rails under each wing, four each side, and were fired electrically. They had been in use for some time and it was our job to improve aiming techniques. Those first RPs were the forerunners of the air-to-ground and air-to-air missiles that are in use today.

18 December
: The RPs could be fired selectively in pairs, fours or eights. Firing all eight at once was equivalent to a destroyer’s broadside.

31 December
: Earlier in this year AFDU commenced experiments on the use of fire bombs. I have the doubtful honour of being the first, or at least one of the first, to demonstrate this diabolical weapon. It was primarily intended for use against the Japanese in the Pacific war and would need to be effective against fox-holes and slit trenches.

The first efforts were somewhat primitive: a 250-gallon drop tank under each wing of the aircraft was filled with jellified benzole. [Later known as napalm.] Two hand grenades were strapped to each tank, the firing pins attached by wires to the bomb-rack.

On an unused part of Colleyweston airfield fox-holes and slit trenches were dug and human dummies were placed in them. I was ordered on this cold and very windy day to release the tanks in front of senior officers of Allied and American Army and Air Forces to demonstrate the effect. Despite the adverse weather conditions I made a successful run in but, at the first attempt, one tank failed to release immediately. However, when I made a climbing turn away, the second tank dropped. It fell on to the parade ground of a nearby American army camp, bursting into a spectacular ball of fire. I visualised with horror burnt and dead American soldiers but, luckily, being a Sunday, they were all off camp.

Against my will I was ordered to try again and at the second attempt, again, only one tank released. I pulled up into a very gentle climbing turn and flew to the Wainfleet bombing range. I admit to being worried (scared stiff!) that the grenade pins had pulled out and I was about to be cremated or blown to bits. All was OK; after a very tight turn the second tank fell harmlessly into the sea. By then the weather had deteriorated and further tests were abandoned – thank goodness! I assume the one tank test had been enough, as the system was adopted and has, unfortunately for the victims, been used ever since.

During the first week in December our CO, I believe it was Wing Commander Allan Wright, decided that a Unit dance, to be held in the hangar, was a good idea. As we now knew that we would be moving to Tangmere, the dance would be a farewell to Wittering. For some unknown reason, I was made responsible for arrangements. A sub-committee was formed from the NCOs and with a lot of help from F/Lt Simms, the Adjutant, things got underway. A dance band was borrowed from a nearby airfield, I believe it was Oakington; flags, bunting and Christmas decorations appeared by the cartload. Bars were set up in two corners, a raised platform was built for the band, refreshments were arranged from the various messes and the Tannoy was modified for the occasion. The bare hangar walls were covered in flags and overhead decorations hid the roof. A nominal charge of two shillings (10p) was made for admission. I only vaguely remember the actual dance but apparently it was a great success.