The official RAF Court of Inquiry into the incident opened in Gibraltar on 7 July 1943. Prchal, an experienced flyer, was unable to explain the crash beyond stating that the controls had seized. He was said to have indicated that his co-pilot, Squadron Leader W.S. Herring, was unfamiliar with the Liberator, and in trying to raise the undercarriage may have operated a lever which locked the controls, although later Prchal denied suggesting this. Prchal also denied that the aircraft had been overloaded, or that he had smuggled a large quantity of furs and oranges on board. The fact that Sikorski himself selected Prchal as his pilot shortly before the flight tends to suggest that the Czech was innocent of deliberately causing the crash, although the Governor of Gibraltar, General Sir Noel Mason-Macfarlane, seems to have harboured suspicions:
There was one very extraordinary fact. The pilot, like nearly all pilots, had his idiosyncrasies, and he never under any circumstances wore his Mae West … He stoutly maintained in evidence that he had not departed from his usual practice, and that when he started his take off run he was not wearing his Mae West. The fact remains that when he was picked up out of the water he was found to be not only wearing his Mae West, but every tape and fastening had been properly put on and done up.
After three weeks the inquiry ruled out sabotage as the cause of the accident, but failed to identify any precise cause. A second inquiry, ordered by Churchill a fortnight later, was similarly unable to pinpoint the fault, but cleared Prchal of any blame. The rumours were slow to fade, however, and a number of mysterious deaths and murders have since been linked with the Sikorski case. These include the diver Lionel ‘Buster’ Crabb, who vanished in Portsmouth harbour in 1956, and two Polish women, Christina Granville and Countess Teresa Lubienska, stabbed to death in 1952 and 1957 respectively. The Polish officer who discovered the bomb on the earlier flight in March 1942 is often reported to have been killed after being hit by a tram or lorry, although in reality he succumbed to pneumonia after a period of mental illness.
Another air death to which myth and legend attach is that of actor Leslie Howard, who was killed when a civilian BOAC airliner was shot down over the Bay of Biscay in June 1943. Howard was returning to Britain from Lisbon with his business manager, Alfred Chenhalls, and although such flights were always hazardous in wartime, the Douglas DC3 should have been safe from attack by virtue of its pale blue colour scheme, wing stripes and civilian identification code. Instead of shadowing the DC3, however, a squadron of Ju 88 fighter-bombers from KG 40 shot the airliner down. There were no survivors, and the tragedy quickly attained the status of an unsolved mystery. Questions were raised in the House of Commons over whether the aircrew had baled out, leaving the thirteen passengers to their fate. One rumour held that Churchill had planted his own double on the flight in order to cover his return journey from North Africa, with tragic results, although this was later denied by Churchill himself:
The regular commercial aircraft was about to start from the Lisbon airfield when a thickset man smoking a cigar walked up and was thought to be a passenger upon it. The German agents therefore signalled that I was on board … The brutality of the Germans was only matched by the stupidity of their agents. It is difficult to understand how anyone could imagine that with all the resources of Great Britain at my disposal, I should have booked a passage in an unarmed and unescorted plane from Lisbon and flown home in broad daylight.
The ‘thickset man’ was apparently Alfred Chenhalls. Others felt that Howard himself was the target, on the basis that he was a British agent, or because films such as 49th Parallel, Pimpernel Smith and The First of the Few were of ‘inestimable value’ as Allied propaganda. Another theory holds that Wilfrid Israel, the founder of the Jewish Refugee Mission in London, was the real target, and was suspected by Germany of recruiting Jewish scientists to the Allied cause. Yet another theory held that important documents were on board the aircraft. The true reason for the destruction of the DC3 will never be known, for the relevant Luftwaffe operational records were destroyed at the end of the war, and surviving aircrew from KG 40 were understandably reluctant to discuss the incident.
Myths and legends attach to many aircraft types, and most lie beyond the scope of this study. That said, the timing and impact of the propaganda surrounding the Boulton Paul Defiant must stand as an exception. Designed to destroy unescorted bomber formations, the Defiant carried no forward armament but packed a formidable punch from four Browning machine-guns mounted in a turret behind the pilot. Because the ‘Diffie’ bore a superficial resemblance to the Hurricane, at the time of the Dunkirk evacuation it was said that German fighter pilots were fooled into bouncing the type from behind, and were shot down in droves. Indeed on 29 May 1940 the only operational Defiant unit, 264 Squadron, claimed to have shot down 37 enemy aircraft during two sorties over the Channel, without loss to themselves. The achievement ‘remained unequalled throughout the war’ and Squadron Leader Phillip Hunter was later awarded the Distinguished Service Order. On this day of days 264 Squadron received a signal from 11 Group:
The Air Officer Commanding sends sincere congratulations to 264 Squadron on their excellent performance in shooting down over 30 enemy aircraft without losing a single pilot, one of whom brought back his aeroplane minus both elevators and an aileron.
The Defiants’ miraculous performance was gleefully reported in daily newspapers, and even by several diarists of the day. Shortly afterwards Lord Beaverbrook wrote to Boulton Paul in his capacity as Minister of Aircraft Production:
Thirty-five Junkers bombers, 13 Heinkel bombers and 30 Messerschmitt fighters fell to the guns of the Defiants. That was the bag! That was the fruit of your labours, of the skill and devotion which has made the Defiant so formidable a defender of our homes and our liberty. It is a magnificent achievement. The pilots in the RAF rejoice in the splendid weapon which you have given them. I send my warmest congratulations to you all.
The senior figures perpetuated the myth of the deadly Defiants, but the truth was very different. Having entered service in October 1939, teething problems saw all aircraft of the type grounded in January 1940, with the result that Defiants only became operational in March, and first saw combat on 12 May. The very next day five out of six were shot down during an encounter with the Luftwaffe over Holland, while over four days in July 264 Squadron lost eleven aircraft and fourteen aircrew. A second Defiant squadron, 141, lost six out of seven aircraft on 19 July on a coastal patrol, and both units were hurriedly moved out of the firing line.
As for the glorious turkey-shoot above Dunkirk on 29 May, it never took place. Although the Defiants claimed a total of 37 enemy aircraft destroyed, including 15 Bf 109 fighters, on the day in question total German air losses in all areas amounted to just 14 machines. How many fell to the Diffies is impossible to say, although the total was almost certainly less than ten, and only two of these Bf 109s. Meanwhile Defiants were being shot out of the sky like so many pheasants, and the various puffs and congratulations sent to 264 Squadron and Boulton Paul supportive gestures to beleaguered servants, at a time when the BEF were being evacuated from France and the war appeared lost. The Defiant was quickly reassigned as a night fighter, and later relegated to air sea rescue and target-tug duties. Remarkably, despite its essential failure as a combat type no fewer than 1,062 examples of the Defiant had been built by the end of the war.
A rather less desperate RAF myth held that night fighter pilots ate prodigious quantities of carrots to improve their night vision. The story was first attached to Group Captain John Cunningham of 604 Squadron, who emerged from the war as the leading night fighter ace with 20 confirmed kills. On 23 December 1940 Cunningham was the first RAF pilot to bring down an enemy bomber with the aid of radar, but since the new air interception (AI) equipment was still a closely guarded secret, the press were informed that Cunningham possessed miraculous night vision. The nickname ‘Cat’s Eyes’ Cunningham inevitably followed, as did reports that he ate vast quantities of carrots, whose Vitamin A c
ontent helped to maintain his extraordinary powers. The falsehood is said to have served two purposes, in that it deceived the enemy in relation to new developments in airborne interception radar, while at the same time promoting the value of carrots in rationed, blacked-out Britain. However, it seems unlikely that the Germans ever gave the story much credence. Cunningham, incidentally, detested the nickname that was forced upon him.
During and after the Second World War it was often rumoured that several Allied pilots had deserted to neutral Sweden, either through cowardice or dubious political allegiance. In the flippant language of Coastal Command aircrew, a spell of comfortable internment in Sweden was apparently referred to as ‘Going to Brighton’. However, thorough research by Rolph Wegmann and Bo Widfelt has established that the story is groundless in relation both to RAF and USAAF personnel. An associated rumour concerning American aircrew of German extraction was also commonplace up and down the country, a typical example being given by Derek Johnson in East Anglia at War:
The story concerned a group of fliers based at Rougham. Being of German extraction, these men refused point blank to strike at German targets because they might be dropping bombs on relatives. The men were grounded until replacement crews arrived from the States, but a number of planes were sabotaged. When the bombers finally set off on a mission, several were supposed to have blown up over the Channel. A secret investigation was carried out, several arrests were made, and after a drum-head court martial, a number of men were executed on the spot.
Another dubious legend involving the USAAF centres on the cursed airfield at Boreham, near Chelmsford in Essex, which enjoyed one of the briefest service lives of any Field of Little America. In May 1943 the 861st Engineer Aviation Battalion began work on building a new airfield at Boreham, work which involved moving a large stone in Dukes Wood. According to local lore:
A certain stone, thought by some to be of significance, it was possibly marking the grave of a witch, was found and removed. A disease amongst the cattle nearby was attributed to the witch’s revenge for desecrating her grave.
Others held that the stone was an ancient pagan altar, or marked the spot where a gamekeeper called William Hales had been murdered in 1856. It is said that local workers refused to disturb the stone, and that a bulldozer was badly damaged in what should have been a simple task. In October, before the airfield construction work was complete, a Thunderbolt from the 56th Fighter Group attempted a wheels-down emergency landing, and struck a bulldozer with its landing gear, killing the driver, while the station commander later died of a heart attack. Given that the infamous stone has for many years been displayed in the car park of the St Anne’s Castle public house in Boreham, it would seem that its powers have waned with the passage of time. And if superstition of this stripe seems far-fetched in wartime, it is worth noting that the last recorded prosecution for assault on a supposed witch was recorded in East Dereham, Norfolk, in January 1941, when magistrates heard that a Mr Sutton had punched a Mrs Spinks after she had tortured him by ‘witchcraft of the Dark Ages’ for five years. Mrs Spinks in turn claimed that Sutton had behaved in a manner that would shame even Hitler.
The verdant mythology of UFOs, flying discs and so-called ‘Foo Fighters’ would require a book of its own to cover in detail, while much postwar commentary is so outlandish as to fall into the realm of pure fantasy. This is particularly true of the growing body of literature dealing with Nazi flying saucers and secret bases in Antarctica, which space precludes us from exploring here. Nevertheless, the several reports filed before the alleged saucer crash at Roswell in New Mexico in July 1947, which marks the dawn of modern UFO mythology, make for fascinating reading, none more so than the phantom Los Angeles air raid early in 1942. On 25 February, less than three months after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, unidentified aircraft appeared in the night sky above Los Angeles, triggering widespread alarm and a blackout lasting five hours. At least a million residents of southern California were woken at 2.25 am by the wail of sirens, which also summoned 12,000 air raid wardens to their posts, all of whom assumed the alert to be a drill. At 3.16 am, as searchlights probed the pre-dawn sky, anti-aircraft batteries began firing the first of 1,430 shells, which in turn caused scattered property damage and several fatalities on the ground. Despite this impressive barrage, however, none of the mysterious enemy raiders were brought down.
Quoting one Beverly Hills resident, who described the action as unfolding like a vast movie premiere, the New York Times reported the following day:
Residents from Santa Monica southward to Long Beach, covering a 39 mile arc, watched from rooftops, hills and beaches as tracer bullets, with golden yellowish tints, and shells like skyrockets offered the first real show of the Second World War, on the United States mainland.
It was no coincidence that the man put in mind of a premiere was one Tom Clark, described as the enemy alien control coordinator for the Far West. For the phantom bombers laid bare a phantom fifth column, as the same paper reveals:
During the blackout police telephones were busy with reports that airplanes had fallen here and there, that ‘Japanese’ were flashing signals from hilltops and that ‘a Japanese’ had been seen with a short wave radio apparatus on a rooftop, probably communicating with the approaching aircraft. Another report, discounted by officials along with some of the others, was that gunfire had destroyed a big long floating bag resembling a balloon high in the air.
The general enthusiasm for reporting and arresting fifth column suspects matched that seen in Poland, Holland and France two years earlier:
Most of the [30] arrests were made on complaints of air raid wardens, who said the prisoners were attempting to signal or actually signalling with flashlights or lights in their homes. Some prisoners were turned over to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, several were fined and others were held for court hearings. FBI spokesmen said that they had been requested by Army officers not to discuss the arrests.
Well-worn fifth column myths had been floated in the wake of the attack on Pearl Harbor, when it was said that Japanese working on Oahu had cut large arrows in fields to guide the attacking planes towards their target. Another story told of a dog barking in Morse on a beach for the benefit of a Japanese submarine skulking offshore.
At the time, the closest the press came to linking the Los Angeles flap with a UFO was in describing the target as a ‘big long floating bag’ at high altitude. Some eyewitnesses claimed to have seen as many as 27 aircraft, yet others saw none at all, while a syndicated photograph appeared to show searchlights converging on a single large target, surrounded by exploding anti-aircraft shells. Others still experienced what might now be recognised as a classic UFO sighting, including Paul Collins, an employee of the Douglas aircraft company at Long Beach. While returning home Collins was stopped by a warden in Pasadena, then saw bright red spots of light low on the horizon to the south, moving in an unnatural manner:
They seemed to be ‘functioning’ or navigating mostly on a level plane at that moment – that is, not rising up from the ground in an arc, or trajectory, or in a straight line and then falling back to earth, but appearing from nowhere and then zigzagging from side to side. Some disappeared, not diminishing in brilliance at all, but just vanishing into the night. Others remained pretty much on the same level and we could only guess their elevation to be about 10,000 feet.
Soon afterwards, Collins observed the red lights being fired upon by anti-aircraft guns:
Taking into account our distance from Long Beach, the extensive pattern of firing from widely separated anti-aircraft batteries, and the movement of the unidentified red objects among and around the bursting shells in wide orbits, we estimated their top speed conservatively to be five miles per second … We did not see the enormous UFO seen by thousands of observers closer to the coast. Very likely it was below our horizon and a few miles further up the coast at that time.
Other witnesses are said to have seen a large machine which appeare
d impervious to AA salvos, and remained stationary before proceeding at a leisurely pace over the coastal areas between Santa Monica and Long Beach. In an official report sent to President Roosevelt, his Chief of Staff, General George C. Marshall, was able to offer nothing more than guesswork over far-fetched fifth column activity:
As many as 15 airplanes may have been involved, flying at various speeds from what is officially reported as being ‘very slow’ to as much as 200 mph and at elevations from 9,000 to 18,000 feet … Investigation continuing. It seems reasonable to conclude that if unidentified airplanes were involved they may have been from commercial sources, operated by enemy agents for purposes of spreading alarm, disclosing locations of anti-aircraft positions, and slowing production through blackout. Such conclusion is supported by varying speed of operation and the fact no bombs were dropped.
This memorandum, written on 26 February, remained classified until 1974, and in the aftermath of the ‘raid’ itself local papers such as the Long Beach Independent complained of a ‘mysterious reticence’ about the whole affair and that ‘some form of censorship is trying to halt discussion of the matter’. Admiral Knox, the US Naval Secretary, later announced that the phantom raid had been nothing more than a false alarm triggered by jittery war nerves, but many remained unconvinced. Indeed some were adamant that the raid was a propaganda exercise staged with the object of relocating vital industries further inland. Whether official reticence owed anything to the mass panic caused by Orson Welles’s celebrated radio broadcast of War of the Worlds in 1938 is impossible to say.
Myths & Legends of the Second World War Page 26
