20. The Calm Before the Storm

In the years leading up to this moment the prevailing winds from the Air Ministry held that any invasion of England would be proceeded by a softening–up campaign from the Luftwaffe. They were correct. However, for the British, the assumption had been that the Heinkel, Junker and Dornier bombers of the Luftwaffe would have to carry out their missions without the benefit of escorts as the German fighters didn’t have the range to attack from bases located in Germany. That all changed with the fall of Belgium, France and the Low countries of the Netherlands. Now the Nazi’s could enjoy the security of fighter escorts across the Channel and beyond.

Back in Leconfield the fighter boys of 234 Squadron were still lamenting their consignment of Fairy Battles; The ones that were being, “… shot down like flies in France.” Well aware that these planes were no match for the Messerschmitt BF 109 the Luftwaffe’s lethal killing-machine.

In 1939, Alex Henshaw, the chief test pilot of the Spitfire traveled to Germany to tour the Messerschmitt factory. Prior to the beginning of the war Germany was very keen to show off their military prowess; and showcase Nazi pride. Mr. Henshaw was impressed with what he saw. Turning to his German host he remarked, “Well, we have the Spitfire.”

“Oh yes,” replied the Luftwaffe Major, “A pretty little toy. But the Messerschmitt is a fighting machine.”

That boast would soon be put to the ultimate test.

Bob Doe recalled one afternoon in March of 1940. “One day a Spitfire landed on our airfield and taxied over to our hanger. And we walked around this thing. We looked at it. We sat in it. We stroked it. I fell in love with it.”

I could certainly empathize with his sentiments. I remember being just slightly younger than Bob Doe was then when my father came home and presented me with my first car. It was a 1961 Cadillac Coupe de Ville: tail fins and all. Well, perhaps the stakes were a little higher in the case of 234 Squadron but there’s no getting around the love affair that develops between boys and machines. You don’t have to know how it works or why. The fact that it does what you ask of it is enough. It’s the perfect relationship at a time in your life when you probably haven’t experienced a proper one. You nourish and respect her and she responds in kind. Requited love without guilt.

“It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was beautiful too! Its lines…” He searched for the right words; recapturing his youth in a phrase. A thought. You could practically smell the grass of the airfield; see it bend and dance in wide rows as the wash of the prop beat it down. Suddenly, sixty-six years peeled away like the pages of a paperback novel on a windy beach. “It was meant to fly. It just looked like that.”

“The following day fifteen more showed up. That’s how we became a fighter squadron. And we were all bomber trained pilots.”

During the month of March the weather was exceedingly good. The pilots were afforded the rare opportunity of flying nearly everyday. They got to know every nuance of their new love. Once the Battle of Britain began in earnest this would prove to be a luxury that few of the squadron’s replacement pilots would ever know. Many would be lucky to get nine hours in the cockpit before being asked to take it up in combat.

“About this time we realized that the C.O. and one Flight Commander – we had one C.O. and two Flight Commanders – (They) weren’t doing any flying at all."

234 Squadron was part of 10 Group, one of four that made up the patch work of Fighter Command. Imagine the British Isle divided horizontally into thirds. 13 Group controlled the Northern-most region including Scotland. 12 group held the Mid-lands from Wales in the West to Lowestott in the East. It also mercifully protected the city of Grantham. The lower third was divided in two by a line running north from just left of Southampton. 10 Group anchored the western defenses while 11 Group was charged with the defense of Southeast England, including London. The latter would bear the brunt of the attacks. Fortunately they were commanded by Air Vice Marshal Keith Park.

“11 Group; Keith Park. They were very well organized and they kept the squads informed of everything that was happening in the latest tactics and everything else.”

With the use of the newly developed radar the RAF was able to detect the swarms of Luftwaffe planes as they formed over the Channel. In that way Fighter Command could send up squadrons that were in the best position to meet the invaders while other squadrons could be held back in reserve or stood down in order to affect repairs. All the four Groups would see heavy action. With London and the radar installation along the eastern coast obvious targets, 10 Group was on loan to 11 Group.

“One day we were ordered up to Middle Wallop, which was a battle area just inland of Southampton. At that stage, the C.O. and Flight Commander who hadn’t done any work; they just disappeared. They walked out. That left just one Flight Commander and a bunch of young lads.”

“We arrived in Middle Wallop… in the middle of the afternoon. We were told to park over at the far side of the airfield, away from the hangers – which we did. On our way up to the mess; in the meantime, the place was bombed (laughs). And the hangers were all knocked flat (still laughing).”

It must have been a surreal scene; the juxtaposition between the horror of destruction and a comedy of errors. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he recounted the event. He could just as easily have been describing the movie Steamboat Will. Jr. where Buster Keaton nonchalantly stands in the middle of a storm while the entire front of a house falls down over him.

“But the aircraft were on the other end of the airfield… so we were quite happy about that. We weren’t worried in the slightest. I don’t know why we weren’t worried… we were expecting it I think. Probably.”

Try as I might I could think of nothing in my life that could relate to that. War; in all its incarnations is the penultimate of human experiences. Those who have never been a part of it feel that they have somehow missed out on a grand adventure. I think there is an under lying understanding that you are a part of something historic. So add to my overwhelming sense of admiration for the Bob Does of the world a touch of envy.

Bob’s story was picking up momentum. I felt badly about interrupting him to ask for a clarification of some point or another. I tried to keep my questions to a minimum as I didn’t want to break the spell. I knew that in the historical timeline we were traveling it was all about to hit the fan. I felt like I was reading a book that I didn’t want to end. I wanted to be able to put it down, absorb the verbal pictures and wallow in a world not of my own making. To that end I wanted to be clearer about the various Groups.

“We were on loan to 11 Group. They controlled us in the air. But we had no information on them at all. 10 Group hadn’t a clue and (they) didn’t tell us anything… and since we were only on loan to them, 11 Group never told us anything. So we were on our own; almost entirely.”

In another television interview he elaborated. “No one told us anything. I’d only fired my guns once. We were given, I think, 20 rounds per gun. We were told to go shoot them into the North Sea.” He paused. “Well you can’t miss the North Sea really….” A slight wry smile breaks across his face.

Newsreels and movies featuring the RAF pilots cast dashing, romantic leads. David Niven, Trevor Howard. Scenes of young (which they were) fair-haired (not necessarily) flyers lounging about in deck chairs spread around the grassy airfield just outside the command hut. They would nap in the sun, play checkers, read, listen to the Victorola playing the latest hits from Bing Crosby or Vera Lynn. A state of readiness was always maintained. The phone would ring and everyone would spring to awareness; ready for action, only to be told that the NAAFI wagon was on the way. (This was a portable diner of sorts that brought tea and pies out to the airfield. I have no idea what NAAFI stands for.)

“You were on call in those days from half an hour before dawn; which in August was very early – to a half hour after dawn. So we had… 24 hours of the day, of which, what, 20 were daylights? Probably. Nineteen. Twenty. Something of that order. We had an old Nissen hut (the fore runner of the Quanson hut) which we had some camp beds in which we could go to sleep on if necessary. We were then scrambled.”

Some historians have placed the start of the Battle of Britain as early as June 10... others say June 30th. Both days saw increased acitivty by the Germans as they probed and prodded the English defenses. July 10th is another day recognized as the official start as Göering ordered attacks on coastal convoys and radar installations knowing that it would force the RAF to send up its planes to meet the threat.

What isn't in doubt is the 13th of August: Aldertg as it was named by the Germans. "Eagle Day." This was truly the first major offensive. Göering promised the Füehrer that the Luftwaffe would sweep the RAF from the skies within four days. Hitler had assumed that the British would be leery of another protracted war and was betting that they would to sue for peace. Had Chamberlain remained in power that would have been a strong possibility. However, Churchill’s election changed the rules. The new Prime Minister had been railing against Hitler since 1930 when he said, "If a dog makes a dash for my trousers, I shoot him down before he can bite." Now it seemed as though Hitler would have little choice but to invade the island. Operation Sea Lion was his plan to land 260,000 troops along the English coast. Aldertag marked the date of Hitler's orighinal invasion time table. But before such an invasion could take place the British air defenses would have to be neutralized. Fortunately for fans of Western civilization both Hitler and Göering grossly underestimated the tenacity of the British people as a whole and the small band of RAF pilots in particular.

“The air force in those days were full of Bluebloods….”

I saw a chance to contribute. “It was very aristocratic?” I thought it was a well chosen word.

Bob/Betty – “Oh very much.” “Very”

Bob continued. “It was full of Bluebloods…because of my background… no one ever said anything to you but I was made to feel an outsider. I was made to feel inferior…”

World War I had glamorized the idea of the “Gentleman’s War”, at least in terms of the air battles. Gallant pilots, their silk scarves flapping behind them, would fire a few rounds into the opposing fellow’s plane and then give a sharp salute as the doomed pilot would ride his hurtling crate into the ground. Up there, a sense of chivalry could still be observed. Down below in the muddy trenches; that was where the enlisted men slogged. The working class soldier. Flyers were officers. The ruling class. Flying was a rich man’s hobby. The officers that piloted the bi-winged fighters in 1914 were the products of the finest public schools. (In England the public schools are what we would consider to be private schools).

Ironically it was that very perception of entitlement and sense of elitism that had become very evident to the Air Ministry. The war that was coming would not be a Gentleman’s War. The British would need to cultivate their flyers and fitters from every walk of life. In a battle of attrition a live pilot was worth considerably more than a wrecked machine. It was into this new school of thought that young men, boys really, from all over the Empire were able to forego a formal education and study at the one thing that they all had in common: a love of flying. With the adoption of the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve these common fellows would break down social barriers that had been so prevalent in the military and in doing so make a lasting impression on British society at large. But it would take some time. Respect must be earned. It can’t be endowed.

“I felt inferior to start with mind you – but I was made to feel even more inferior. As a result, when we went into action the first time I was convinced I’d be killed. But, because I was more scared of calling myself a coward, than have anyone else doing it, I went."

" In fact, I shot two down on my first sortee… That was my introduction to war. “