Hurricane Squadron Ace: The Story of Battle of Britain Ace, Air Commodore Peter Brothers, CBE, DSO, DFC and Bar

by Nick Thomas

  Hitler gambled that a swift conclusion to the Polish campaign would lead to a weakening of British and French resolve. He ordered his forces to continue their merciless onslaught.

  Early the following evening, Churchill visited Biggin Hill on his way to his nearby home of Chartwell and had his customary glass of sherry in the officer’s mess, saying to those assembled, ‘Well, I’ve no doubt all you young men here will be as brave and eager to defend your country as were your forefathers.’

  Voice from the back of the crowd, ‘Cheer up, Sir. It won’t be as bad as all that!’

  The British Government was, however, already preparing an ultimatum which would be delivered at 0900 hours on 3 September.

  Chapter 3

  The So-Called Phoney War

  The morning of Sunday, 3 September 1939, saw the dying throws of diplomacy being played out in Berlin, as, for the second time in a generation, Britain stood on the brink of war with Germany.

  In their respective messes, the pilots gathered to listen to what the BBC had advised would be, ‘an important announcement.’ At 1115 hours, fifteen minutes after the British ultimatum had expired, Neville Chamberlain broadcast to the nation:

  ‘This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently this country is at war with Germany. Now may God bless you all.’

  Meanwhile, a defiant ‘erk’ cycled past No. 32 Squadron’s temporary dispersal tents singing a popular refrain, ‘Pack up your Goebbels in your old kit-bag and Heil! Heil!’

  Moments later the tannoys crackled into life, the Station Commander announcing, ‘As you will all have heard, we are now at war with the Hun’. His words were drowned out by the whine of air raid sirens, which were sounded in response to an incoming radar plot.

  The station’s defences swung into action, as across Kent and the capital, civilians headed for their nearest air raid shelter. All along the aircraft’s anticipated flight path anti-aircraft gunners scoured the skies, while London’s balloon barrage was deployed.

  Brothers’ Blue Section was at Readiness when the telephone at dispersal rang. At the other end of the line was Biggin Hill’s controller (codenamed Sapper control). The shout went out, ‘Blue Section. Patrol Gravesend 5,000ft. Scramble!’

  Springing into action, Brothers and the rest of his section raced to their Hurricanes where the ‘erks’ were already waiting to strap them in, leaping off the wings to remove the chocks as soon as the Merlin engines burst into life. A few minutes into the patrol the aircraft was identified as a French transport, which Brothers escorted to Croydon. This would be the first of many X-raids: ‘some plot that turned out to be nothing.’

  That evening Winston Churchill, mindful of the need for political unity, spoke in Parliament, ‘We must not underrate the gravity of the task which lies before us, or the temerity of the ordeal, to which we shall not be found unequal’.

  Understanding that Hitler’s goals lay beyond Poland, Churchill emphasized, ‘This is not a question of fighting for Danzig or fighting for Poland. We are fighting to save the whole world from the pestilence of Nazi tyranny and in defence of all that is most sacred to man’.

  Churchill’s address was statesmanlike, demonstrating to many that he had the energy, self-belief, charisma and the political and military know-how, to unite the nation and bring it through to victory.

  Closely monitoring Great Britain’s response, along with that of her ally France, the Reich-Führer issued his Directive No. 2:

  ‘The declaration of war by England and France has the following consequences:

  ‘Attacks upon English naval forces at naval bases or on the high seas will only be made in the event of English air attacks on similar targets and where there are particularly good prospects of success.

  ‘I reserve to myself the decision about attacks on the English homeland.’

  The Luftwaffe, however, could defend against attacks on the Reich: ‘In general the employment of the air force in the west is governed by the need to preserve its fighting strength after the defeat of Poland for decisive actions against the Western Powers.’

  The first few days of hostilities saw one flight or the other at a state of Readiness from before dawn until well after dusk, while a number of patrols and scrambles were flown, the plots turning out to be ‘friendly’. But the false alarms kept the pilots on their mettle. Brothers explained that there were two telephones at dispersals, ‘You quickly learnt to tell the difference between the bell on the ‘ops’ room telephone against that of the ‘admin’ line’.

  Fighter Command had various states of readiness: Standby – sitting in cockpit ready to take-off; Readiness – to be able to take-off in three minutes; Available – able to take-off at a set amount of time denoted by a prefix i.e. 15 minutes Available; Release – stood down until a given time.

  The restrictions on non-operational flying were partially lifted on 11 September with Nos. 32 and 79 Squadrons taking the opportunity to fly interceptions and mock combats. Everyone was eager to put their training into practice. Meanwhile, on Continental Europe, events escalated. Poland’s fate had already been sealed under the terms of the secret ‘Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact’. Before dawn on 17 September, Russian forces invaded eastern Poland. It was claimed that as the Polish government no longer existed, Russia’s earlier promise to respect Polish sovereign territory was null and void. Ten days later, at 2010 hours Berlin time, German radio announced: ‘Warsaw has unconditionally capitulated.’

  On 9 October, Adolf Hitler turned his attention towards the West when he issued his sixth War Directive, ordering preparations for: ‘… an attacking operation on the northern wing of the Western Front, through the areas of Luxembourg, Belgium and Holland. This attack must be carried out with as much strength and at as early a date as possible …’

  Meanwhile, Brothers had had the opportunity to test his gunnery skills in air-to-air firing, when, on 29 September, he was scrambled to bring down a barrage balloon which had broken free from its moorings. Brothers followed the controller’s directions and, taking the prevailing wind into account, soon had the balloon in his sights, unleashing his eight Browning machine guns and raking it with 0.303 rounds. A similar sortie would be flown nearly a month later with the same result.

  An entry in the squadron’s Operational Record Book (ORB) on 30 September throws more light on the initial weeks of Biggin Hill’s war: ‘No. 32 Squadron has been operating from a dispersal point on the east side of the aerodrome. A temporary camp of tents has been erected there to enable pilots and crews to sleep near their machines.’

  Brothers recalled that the dispersals were, ‘made a bit more homely with an old wind-up gramophone and some Lloyd Loom chairs’.

  Meanwhile, the flying facilities were being upgraded with the construction of concrete runways and taxiing tracks. It was also recorded that: ‘A new dispersal point on the south side of the aerodrome was allotted to No. 32 Squadron and plans for the semi-permanent dispersal point have been made out by Squadron Leader T. B. Prickman.’

  With the onset of winter fast approaching, there were plans to supplement the tents with wooden huts. Meanwhile, following the lifting of the ban on non-operational flying, the ORB recorded: ‘Both ‘A’ and ‘B’ Flights have been engaged in training their new pilots, this is progressing well. During the month the squadron carried out Night Flying, Squadron Formation attacks, as well as individual training.’

  Meanwhile, during the afternoon of 16 October, radar detected the Luftwaffe’s first major air offensive against British targets, when fifteen Junkers Ju 88s of I./KG 30 attacked Royal Naval vessels in the Firth of Forth. Successfully vectored onto the enemy, the Spitfires of Nos. 602 and 603 Squadrons claimed two Ju 88s destroyed, damaging a third. The
combat victories were a vindication, both of Dowding’s support of radar and Fighter Command’s Air Defence System.

  If the Air Ministry was to gauge the offensive capability of the enemy it was vital to maintain an accurate record of their losses. During a dogfight an enemy aircraft might be fired upon by two or three pilots from the same or different squadrons, particularly one which was already damaged and posed an easy target.

  The Air Ministry’s strict guidelines when assessing combat victories were:

  Destroyed:

  a)

  Aircraft must be seen on the ground or in the air destroyed by a member of the crew or formation, or confirmed from other sources, e.g. ships at sea, local authorities etc.

  b)

  Aircraft must be seen to descend with flames issuing. It is not sufficient if only smoke is seen.

  c)

  Aircraft must be seen to break up in the air.

  Probables:

  a)

  When the pilot of a single-engined aircraft is seen to bail out.

  b)

  The aircraft must be seen to break off the combat in circumstances which lead our pilots to believe it will be a loss.

  Damaged:

  Aircraft must be seen to be considerably damaged as the result of attack, e.g. undercarriage dropped, engine dropped, aircraft parts shot away, or volumes of smoke issuing.

  Poor local weather meant there was no flying on 19 October and so the pilots were stood down. J.B. Priestly joined Brothers and the other officers in the Pilot’s Room where he ‘gave a short address’. A gift for expressing the sentiments of a nation, from the early summer of 1940, Priestly would make weekly evening broadcasts on the BBC.

  The 30 October was a sad day for Brothers and the other pilots as they said ‘goodbye’ to Squadron Leader Tom Prickman, who was replaced by Squadron Leader Robert Alexander Chignell. The latter had served at Sector HQ, Biggin Hill, since 10 July 1938 and was already well known and respected on the base.

  Tom Prickman was posted away to command RAF Stradishall, being promoted to Wing Commander on 1 January 1940. A month later he was posted to HQ, No. 11 Group. He was appointed to command RAF Kenley on 20 April. Prickman was then posted to RAF West Malling on 28 July before returning to command RAF Kenley on 18 August. In recognition of his vital role as Sector Controller, he was awarded the OBE on 17 March 1941. Prickman retired holding the rank of Air Commodore, CBE (London Gazette, 14 June 1945), CB (London Gazette, 1 June 1953).

  As the daily scrambles continued, life inevitably became stressful for the pilot’s families, especially the wives living on or close to the base. At the time Annette was still living on the approach, overlooking the aerodrome, ‘… she used to count us in. Every time I came back from a sortie, I had to do a whiz over the house to reassure her I was still around.’

  Their Bull terrier called ‘Merlin’, for obvious reasons, could tell which aircraft was Pete’s when they came back into land from a mission, which was very reassuring for Annette.

  Aware that Biggin Hill, the location and significance of which were well known to German aviators, would very likely become a target for Luftwaffe bombers, Brothers decided that it was time for Annette to relocate, ‘when war was declared I said, “I’ve got to move you because this is not a good place to be.” So she went and lived with her aunt in Westerham. I could commute there when I was stood down, as it was only six miles [from Biggin Hill].’

  The first big shake-up at Biggin Hill came on 11 November, when No. 79 Squadron was transferred to RAF Manston, No. 32 Squadron taking over their dispersal point hut. A few days later, news of their sister squadron’s first victory was greeted with a sense of relief and no little envy. Flying out of Manston on 21 November, Flying Officer ‘Jimmy’ Davies and Flight Sergeant Brown shared in the destruction of a Dornier Do 17 over the Straits of Dover. The Dornier spun down with one engine alight, crashing into the sea, exploding on impact (the first enemy aircraft to be destroyed over the Channel).

  Meanwhile, No. 32 Squadron, like most of Fighter Command, was yet to sight an enemy aircraft. Their luck was typified by the following day’s events. Up and at dispersals since before dawn, Flight Lieutenant Brothers led ‘B’ Flight on a scramble at 0935 hours with orders to patrol Biggin Hill. After an hour and a half of stooging around the patrol landed.

  False alarms caused by flocks of birds, thunderstorms and training flights that got lost became commonplace, causing the pilots of No. 32 Squadron to compose a little ditty which, according to Flying Officer ‘Grubby’ Grice, went something like this:

  ‘The plots that appear on the screen, tra la,

  Have nothing to do with the Hun.

  The AOC’s having a dream, tra la,

  And won’t send us off in a stream, tra la,

  To fight the Hun in the sun.

  And that’s what I mean when I say and I scream.

  Oh bother the plots that appear on the screen!’

  Hitler’s plans to dominate North-Western Europe depended on sidelining Great Britain. On 29 November Hitler issued Directive No. 9 for the Conduct of the War, its aims being to cripple Britain’s economy. Prime targets included merchant shipping and their escorts, oil, cold food and grain storage facilities, industrial plants and troop transport. Meanwhile, ports and shipping lanes were to be mined.

  During the day Biggin Hill’s No. 601 Squadron made a rare offensive patrol when they escorted No. 25 Squadron’s Blenheims on a daring raid to destroy the Luftwaffe’s seaplanes at their base at Borkum in the Friesian Islands.

  For No. 32 Squadron much of December was taken up with occasional scrambles and fighter patrols, along with convoy escorts. On 9 December, Flight Lieutenant Michael ‘Red Knight’ Crossley led a section to Manston where they relieved one section from No. 79 Squadron, flying regular patrols and scrambles. The posting lasted until 23 December, but proved notable only for an escort made for King George VI on 13 December. While stationed at Manston the squadron’s pilots were able to use the house at Port Lympne formerly belonging to the late Sir Philip Sassoon as their billet.

  Crossley, Brothers recalled, ‘was an Old Etonian. He’d studied aeronautical engineering before taking a job at the Elstree Film Studios as an assistant director, then making a career change and joining De Havilland as an apprentice’.

  An amateur musician of some ability, Crossley was proficient at a number of instruments, including the trumpet, guitar and ukulele, ‘His signature tune was It’s Only a Paper Moon made famous by Ella Fitzgerald. I remember, someone wrote a song about the squadron, adding verses on each of the pilots. It went something like, “High rank, low rank, everybody come, join us in the pilot’s room and make yourself at home. Take off your gloves and overalls and light your pipe and let us introduce you to the fighting 32.”

  ‘And then came a verse on each of the pilots and key staff.’

  During the festive season, Sir Howard Kingsley Wood, Secretary of State for Air (March 1938–May 1940), visited the sergeant’s and airmen’s messes in the company of Wing Commander Grice, wishing all ranks a ‘Very Happy Christmas!’ Following the time honoured service tradition, the officers and senior NCOs took care of all of the Christmas Dinner arrangements, serving the junior NCOs and men. In the evening all ranks were invited to join the officers for a drink and to toast the King’s health. Details of the celebrations were later related by Sergeants J.W. ‘Chalky’ White and J. Proctor in a BBC broadcast entitled ‘Christmas Day at a Fighter Squadron’.

  At 2359 hours on 31 December the officers broke off their own party to join all ranks on the station to wish them a ‘Happy New Year!’ None could have known just how momentous the months ahead would be.

  The New Year began with a change of scene. On 1 January 1940, orders were received for No. 32 Squadron to transfer to Gravesend, from where they also had brief postings to Manston, finally returning to Biggin Hill on 1 April: ‘The move was to allow for the construction of deep air raid shelters, while a short concrete runw
ay was also laid.’

  The squadron’s first operational sortie from their new base was made on 4 January, with many more scrambles and patrols to follow.

  Flight Lieutenant Crossley recorded in the unofficial Squadron Diary: ‘Gravesend in peacetime was an excellent little private flying club with quite a large aerodrome, a useful sized hangar and a very nice little club house. It was not, however, designed to accommodate about 250 whole-time boarders.’

  Sleeping arrangements for all but the lucky ones was on palliasses laid on the floor, while catering was from a mobile unit.

  But no one minded the lack of facilities if it meant the possibility of combat. This looked to be on the cards on 12 January, when Green Section was vectored onto a formation of Do 17s making an attacking approach on Manston. The pilots went through their drill, lowering their seat to gain better protection from enemy rounds, or fire from the engine, and taking the safety catch off the gun button. As they positioned themselves for the attack they were thwarted by heavy and accurate anti-aircraft fire which dispersed the bombers but prevented the Hurricanes from getting in close enough to engage.

  Brothers led Blue Section on a convoy escort between 1115 – 1300 hours on 25 January. Two oil tankers sailing off North Foreland were reported to be under attack and Red Section was scrambled to provide support, but no contact was made.

  The squadron took delivery of twenty improved Hawker Hurricanes with variable-pitch propellers on the following day, with more arriving between 10 – 14 February, their old aircraft being handed over to Nos. 242 and 253 Squadrons: ‘… we got some de Havilland variable-pitch metal things which were terrible. They hadn’t a great pitch range, they chucked oil all over the windscreen, and then we got Rotol wooden-bladed jobs, and they had a great pitch range …’

  The wooden blades shattered if someone had a rough landing and touched the propeller on the ground, while a metal one might suddenly stop, stripping the reduction gear on the engine. Pete explained, ‘The wood just broke up, you did a check of the reduction gear, and put a new propeller on.’