A Spitfire Pilot's Story: Pat Hughes: Battle of Britain Top Gun

by Dennis Newton

  During March, the RAF introduced a system of squadron identification letters for in-flight aircraft recognition. These were large mid-grey letters painted on the fuselage of every machine. On the port side, two squadron identity letters were usually placed ahead of the roundel and the plane’s identity letter aft of it. On the starboard side, the two squadron identity letters were placed aft of the roundel and the plane’s identity letter ahead. From June, 64 Squadron’s identifying codes were ‘XQ’ and 72 Squadron’s codes were ‘SD’.

  In international affairs it became apparent that the Führer’s next aim was to occupy the free city of Danzig which lay across the Polish Corridor. Hitler’s blatant disregard for all of his assurances given at Munich led the British Government to offer guarantees of support to Poland in the event of attack but in practical terms it was difficult to see how the Poles could be helped. Poland was too far away. Its nearest point was 700 miles away from the RAF’s bomber airfields. The only possibility was to establish a force close to the German border in France which would create the impression of threatening second front.

  Plans were made for the army to send a British Expeditionary Force (BEF) to France if necessary. This force would have to have an Air Component under the operational direction of the commander-in-chief, Viscount Gort, and there would be an Advanced Air Striking Force (AASF) for short-range offensive operations across the German frontier.

  On 23 August 1939 at the Berghof, Adolf Hitler’s mountain retreat, the weather was peaceful and warm and the views across the mountain peaks superb. Military staff cars with fluttering pendants drove up the winding mountain road – a conference had been called by the Führer. The chief German commanders assembled and took their seats in a semicircle facing their leader. Standing behind his massive desk, Hitler announced exultantly that a treaty with Russia would be concluded in forty-eight hours. Germany’s border in the east would be secure, and with political preparations complete, the way was open for action to be taken against Poland. He indicated that the probable date for launching hostilities would be Saturday 26 August.

  That same day in Britain the government initiated various secret measures that had been put in place for an international emergency. In the evening, RAF units received orders to mobilise unobtrusively.

  Next day, green envelopes bearing the word ‘MOBILISATION’ in large letters began to arrive at the homes of members of the RAF’s Auxiliary Air Force and the homes of 3,000 Volunteer Reservists. For security someone tried in haste to stamp over the glaring word. At the Royal Air Force Club in Piccadilly the flood of telegrams threatened to engulf the entrance. So much for being unobtrusive! The VRs responded. They made their brief farewells and hastened off to mobilisation centres. Some who were on their annual training exercises had no need to travel.

  On 25 August, the British Government’s guarantees to Poland were confirmed by a binding official alliance between the two countries. France followed suit.

  The Führer actually hesitated at the last minute. Appeals from Neville Chamberlain, or French Prime Minister Edouard Daladier, or US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, or even the Pope, did not concern him, but the new formal alliances with Poland did. It was now abundantly clear, even to Hitler and his foreign minister who had negotiated the pact with Russia, that an attack on Poland would mean a general war in Europe. At the same time, he learned that he would not automatically receive support from Mussolini. His Italian ally was not yet ready for a large-scale war.

  The operation against Poland was postponed for a few days while the Führer made a hasty, superficial effort to secure his aims without resorting to war. The token attempt had no chance of success for the world knew by now the true value of his words. On 31 August, he sharpened his resolve and gave the order to march against Poland the next morning.

  Early in the morning of 1 September 1939, Germany stepped into the abyss …

  That same day at Martlesham Heath, the Aircraft and Armament Experimental Establishment moved west to Boscombe Down in Wiltshire. With the outbreak of war, Martlesham Heath’s days of experimental testing would be over and the station would become a forward aerodrome in No. 11 Group, RAF Fighter Command.

  During the evening of 2 September, Britain’s ambassador in Berlin handed an official final note to the German Government. It stated that unless Britain heard by eleven o’clock the next morning, 3 September, that Germany was prepared to immediately withdraw its troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between Britain and Germany.

  The deadline came and went.

  From the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street at 11.15 a.m., Neville Chamberlain began his announcement. Those gathered around their radios listened intently as the last few bars of orchestral music were followed by a BBC announcer introducing the Prime Minister. In a simple, flat voice he said:

  I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.

  In London’s streets, men and women watched as barrage balloons climbed into the sky.

  5

  234 SQUADRON

  It was generally believed that in the event of war the Germans would immediately launch an air attack on London. An air raid warning did sound shortly after Prime Minister Chamberlain made his announcement. Most of the Londoners went underground as they had been instructed but some escaped into nearby parks to see what was happening. It was the first of many false alarms.

  Within a few days, some Australians, including several from the Point Cook class of 1936, were flying in France with the RAF’s Advanced Air Striking Force and Air Component squadrons, but Pat was still at Church Fenton and still a member of 64 Squadron with its Bristol Blenheim Ifs. Three days after war was declared the air remained crisp with anticipation and tension. It was a time for making sure one’s affairs were in order as there might not be another chance.

  While he was waiting for instructions, Pat used the time to write letters to his family back home in Australia. One was to his brother, Bill:

  Will,

  I feel that I owe you a letter merely to let you know I’m still hale and hearty and not doing anything like hard work. I’m trying to get abreast of my correspondence now because in this first week we’ve got not much else to do except sit and wait till it breaks. I have written Mum, and today should see a letter for most of the family, as I’m just sitting out on the aerodrome with a lot of aeroplanes and guns and such with no place to go as yet …

  I had arranged to go to France with a chappie from the French Air Force for this month and just sit and swim but as you know old Adolf the Unwashed has rather been carried away in his old fashioned enthusiasm and now there’s war in the land so to speak …

  Now that we have started I’m packing up a bit of stuff ready to ship it home if we move off to France or someplace but as far as I know we will stop in England on Home Defence, which promises to be livelier than anything else. Up till now nothing much has happened, except for a few sort of tentative prods from either side, but some of our coves did sling some good stuff into the Kiel Canal the other night. Rumours have just come through of the first raids on London, how true they are I don’t know, but it’s quite possible the fun has started in earnest at last.

  If it has, Will, it will be an awful crack to start with because all of our chaps here are just sort of waiting now in a period of inaction, so that when it does break they will be damned hard to stop.

  I haven’t seen Peter, but he’s got good aeroplanes and near London so he’ll have some fun. [Peter Pettigrew was now in 151 Squadron; he was in the last Point Cook-trained group to come to England and join the RAF in July 1938.]

  There’s no use muttering about things Will, and to my mind the chances of living through it are equal anyhow, and that’s all one can ask after all. The National Socialists in Germany have been bred and reared in a military atmosphere, and war is as much in their destiny as Xmas and plum pudding is in ours.

  Until this has been
going on for a while we won’t be able to judge much about their men and machines or whether they fight well or indifferently, but one thing is certain both of these Air Forces are out to show just how bad the other one is, and how long it will take I’d hate to guess.

  I’ve still got that silver cart wheel you sent me, and although its rather tarnished now from carrying it in my pocket and spilling ale on it, it still looks as if it will be going home in 1942.

  This war has set the boys up in the marriage market, we’ve had about four in the last week and quite a few to come I’ll wager, but so far I’m still rather footloose and dissolute, although in the last month I have acquired a rather dirty looking, but nevertheless fierce moustache. It’s really good camouflage anyhow and more or less effectively hides the scowl I wear so often.

  Well brother mine, after we’ve cleared these Huns from the blue skies of old England I’ll come home to that tankard of old ale and the beach and forget that I’ve spent five years in fog and rain of Yorkshire.

  Give my regards to all. See that you don’t get married and be good.

  Will write as soon as I can.

  Yrs

  Pat

  P.S. We’ll give ‘em hell!!!1

  Bill Hughes would keep his brother’s letter for the rest of his life. Another of Pat’s letters was to his sister, Constance.

  Dearest Con,

  I have gathered that you have moved into Strathfield a long time ago, but I don’t know if I’ve got your new address or not so I’m sending this along to the family to forward to you.

  By now you are no doubt an established mother and housewife and Bob has grown a beard, and Sandra must by now be of manageable state. However, I hope you don’t let any of the attendant worries absorb too much of your time.

  Except for a couple of parties in town last month we have been rather subdued lately.

  I had lunch with Peter the other week, and except for sporting a pipe and confessing to being in the throes of a violent love affair or such nonsense he’s still the same old chap.

  Geoff has written to say he was definitely coming to England this year, sometime around October, but by now he’ll probably have realised he’ll be coming over a lot quicker now.

  Celia Wilkinson called in on her way from the New York and had lunch and a gossip with me a month or so ago; but apart from her I haven’t seen a soul from home for years it seems.

  We spent a week on manoeuvres near Cambridge in August, and then a fortnight doing some practice gunnery on the Norfolk coast, so you can gather we have spent time rather pleasantly.

  I had arranged to go to France with chap from the French Air Force for September, but Adolf the Unwashed has, as you know, allowed himself to be carried away in his own enthusiasm and the doctrine of his mailed fist nonsense, and so you see Sister mine, all the fun and games we play about at have suddenly fallen around our ears and now we don’t play, but we are in damned deadly earnest.

  There’s no question whether we are worried about these affairs or not; and there’ll be no letting up once we start until we have swept him right from the skies clean back to his own borders. How long it will take I hate to think and what it will do to the people in it who will live through it will be incredibly devilish.

  We’ve known it was coming for quite a while and we’ll try and give him an awful shock, but I suppose they are thinking the same about us, so it hardly matters except to win.

  My dog ‘Butch’ has grown incredibly and now likes to fight as well as fly, although he doesn’t yet display much intelligence.

  Give my regards to Rob and a kiss to Sandra.

  All the love possible dearest sister,

  Pat2

  *

  For security reasons, within days of the declaration of war the RAF ordered that the large mid-grey identification letters of every aircraft in every squadron be changed. 64 Squadron’s identifying codes went from ‘XQ’ to ‘SH’, and 72 Squadron’s codes were changed from ‘SD’ to ‘RN’.

  Another security measure was the top-secret ‘Scatter Scheme’. This was implemented when the war began in order to make the disposition of the RAF confusing to the enemy. Its squadrons started transferring to different airfields from those they had occupied in peacetime. This was a huge, unsettling logistical exercise. The first unit to move from Church Fenton was 72 Squadron. On 15 October, Ron Lees and Des Sheen took their Spitfires down to Leconfield near Hull, and Pat was sorry to see them go.

  In the long run the bomber squadrons gravitated up to the Yorkshire area and left the London area to the fighter boys. The capital had to be heavily defended. Did the moves confuse the enemy? One cynic remarked that the Scatter Scheme actually confused no one but the RAF itself!

  To defend Britain effectively against an estimated 2,000 long-range bombers that were expected to be launched in raids from Germany, Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding had calculated that he needed at least fifty-three squadrons of fighters at his disposal. Forty-six squadrons were required for general defence, four to protect convoys sailing up and down the east coast, two to cover the big naval base at Scapa Flow in the Orkneys and one for Northern Ireland.

  When war was declared, instead of the fifty-three squadrons that he deemed essential, Dowding had no more than thirty-five.

  He began to pressure the Air Ministry for the immediate formation of twelve more fighter squadrons, but the realities of the situation were not encouraging. Hurricane and Spitfire production was crawling along at less than 100 aircraft per month – not sufficient to cover the estimated wastage in the existing squadrons, let alone enough to create a large number of new units.

  The Air Member for Supply and Organization reported that two new fighter squadrons might be formed at most, not of Spitfires or Hurricanes but of Blenheims.

  Confronted with this judgment, Dowding reduced his request to eight squadrons. At the same time, he complained bitterly that the four squadrons of fighters (Nos 1, 73, 85 and 87) set aside for France had been sent before the anticipated Luftwaffe offensive on England had been met and beaten off. As well, just before the war he had received orders to put six more Hurricane squadrons on a mobile basis. Although he had been assured that these would never be withdrawn from Fighter Command unless they could be safely spared, he queried how much reliance could be placed on such pledges. His fear was that attrition in France would drain away the entire Hurricane output. As for the demands of other commands, he put his opinion on record that:

  The home defence organisation must not be regarded as co-equal with other Commands, but that it should receive priority to all other claims until it is firmly secured, since the continued existence of the nation, and of its services, depends on the Royal Navy and Fighter Command.

  The Air Staff had far wider responsibilities. The Air Ministry was committed to building up a powerful force not of fighters but of bombers as its main contribution to victory. On top of this, the army, the RAF in France, and the French themselves all wanted more fighters sent across the Channel. It was impossible to satisfy everyone, but it was also clearly essential to create more fighter squadrons. German actions targeting the Royal Navy’s new base at Scapa Flow and the emerging threat against Britain’s east-coast sea traffic underlined the necessity.

  Thanks principally to his persistence, and largely to the support and foresight of the Chief of Air Staff, Sir Cyril Newall, Dowding got what he wanted. It had already been acknowledged that it was possible to form two Blenheim squadrons. Dowding, who had a use for Blenheims as night fighters, requested that these might take the form of four half-squadrons which could be built up to full strength as occasion permitted. He also requested that an extra squadron previously approved for training and reserve should be made first-line, in the form of two half-squadrons.

  Newall consented to both ideas but went further. He also agreed that two more squadrons should be formed as insurance against two of the mobile squadrons going to France. This gave Dowding his eight half-squadrons which, o
nce established, had the potential to be built up quickly as the resources, men and machines became available.

  October saw 152 Squadron formed at Acklington in Northumberland with Gladiators released by 603 Squadron; 263 Squadron formed at Filton with Gladiators formerly belonging to 605 Squadron; 219 Squadron formed at Catterick equipped with Blenheim Ifs; 229 Squadron at Digby also equipped with Blenheim Ifs; 92 Squadron at Tangmere, raised with Blenheim Ifs as initial equipment and a nucleus of pilots from 601 Squadron; 141 Squadron at Turnhouse with Gladiators; 145 Squadron at Croydon armed with Blenheim Ifs; and 253 Squadron born at Manston with Miles Magister trainers.

  Cyril Newall went further still. He was convinced that the demand for fighters would soon become even more urgent, but it did not seem possible that more squadrons could be formed so soon. The entire output of single-engined fighters was already fully allocated. So too was that of the Blenheims, largely to cover the normal attrition in Bomber Command. Nevertheless, if more fighter squadrons could be formed, even if they were equipped with the wrong types of aircraft, they might be ready for action with the right types precious weeks earlier than if their formation were delayed until production increased – if it did increase, and if the enemy allowed the time.

  Newall called a meeting of the Air Members and some of the Air Staff on 17 October. He announced first that Dowding’s recently approved extra squadrons must be completed by the end of the month, and then declared that an additional ten squadrons must be formed over the following fortnight. After dropping that bombshell, he invited those present to suggest how this could be achieved.

  It was achieved. At the end of the month a host of new units appeared, their motley array of equipment demonstrating a growing shortage of aircraft of any type with which to equip them. On 30 October, the following were all formed, or reformed having been First World War units: 234 and 245 Squadrons at Leconfield; 242 Squadron at Church Fenton; 264 and 266 Squadrons at Sutton Bridge; 235 Squadron at Manston; 248 Squadron at Hendon; 254 Squadron at Stadishal; and on 31 October, 236 Squadron also at Stadishal.