Aircrew Book Review

Wings Over The Waves - Graham Roy Drucker

2012-02-14T22:28:00.001+11:00

My New Guinea Diary - Ernest C. Ford

2012-01-26T20:09:00.003+11:00

A book is a package prepared by a team of people. Even something self-published is rarely prepared by just the author. Friends and family can act as proof-readers, typist or even fact-checkers. Make it an ‘officially’ published book and you start including designers, copy editors and other such clever people. The wise editor will let a great story have its head and not interfere with the story-telling process. However, this same editor will also tighten up the writing and keep it on track while ensuring the small things like spelling and grammar are consistent and accurate. With Ernest Ford’s My New Guinea Diary we have the incredible story of an American Sergeant Pilot flying C-47 transports over New Guinea’s treacherous terrain when the Japanese still held the upper hand and the Allies were scrambling to reverse their fortunes. While most certainly an attractive tale that needed to be told it is let down by, at times, a complete lack of editing.

The book opens - after the requisite foreword, acknowledgements and a useful timeline of events – on October 13, 1942 with the 20-year old author flying to New Guinea from Australia in formation with 12 other C-47s of the 6^th Troop Carrier Squadron (the first USAAF transport unit to be deployed as such). This flight was the culmination of a two-week odyssey involving some epic legs across the Pacific from California and was so secret that only the squadron commander knew where they were going. The aircraft were little more than a month old and the pilots were all ‘green’ combat-wise of course. On the flying side of things Ford had just over 450 hours of flight-time prior to leaving the States - a firm grounding for the challenges that lay ahead.

Landing at Jackson Field in the Port Moresby area the crews quickly find out how tenuous their situation is. The Japanese had pushed their way across the Owen Stanley ranges to within sight of New Guinea’s biggest settlement. No quarter was asked and none was given in what was a particularly brutal campaign fought in the most unforgiving of environments. The crews are briefed shortly after arrival by an Australian Army captain who familiarises them with the tactical situation, basic survival and a comprehensive lesson on how to survive if shot down or having to escape New Guinea on foot. While an extraordinarily detailed briefing and a real eye-opener into just how little chance the men had if left to their own devices in the jungle, the briefing is delivered in the book as though the captain is talking (complete with quotation marks). It, like many ‘instructions’ given throughout the book, is treated as a direct quote which, 60-70 years after the fact, is quite implausible as are his apparent comments about aircraft handling - an Army captain telling aircrew not to hand-turn ‘hot’ propellers! Nevertheless the captain’s descriptions, as written, maintain the exceptional level of detail that is experienced throughout the book.

This level of detail is of most value when Ford describes the living conditions at Jackson and his subsequent combat flying. Beginning first with air drops over kunai grass plains, the author flies with an additional four ‘pushers’ – Australian infantry assigned to push the aircraft’s load out over the drop-zone as fast as possible on each run. Fighter escort for the early trips was a single Royal Australian Air Force Wirraway so, in effect, there was no fighter escort at a time when the Japanese held air superiority. Ford goes to great lengths to explain the challenges of flying under such conditions and several encounters with Japanese aircraft make it clear the man supplements his luck with particular flying skill (others are not so fortunate). Missions were flown in formation or singly and, as it does now, the weather in that part of the world certainly made its presence felt.

Ford was always keen to fly and even volunteered to crew on a Flying Fortress when he was rostered off normal flying duties. This passion to do his job is matched by the skill mentioned above. Not long after arriving in New Guinea, his crew (now including an Australian co-pilot) is sent to perform a solo supply drop near Kokoda airstrip. High up in the ranges, after performing the drops and with the weather closing in, the cargo door comes away from the fuselage and wraps itself around the port stabiliser. What follows is a particularly gripping account of the author’s struggle to return the floundering aircraft and crew to base (parachutes removed to supply the fighter pilots) while having to ‘adjust’ his flying – already hampered by limited control - to counter the cloud and rain showers. None of the aircraft in the squadron had a full instrument panel (no artificial horizon!) at this time and Ford’s regular aircraft, the now damaged Irene, had a cockpit that leaked when it rained. That he gets the aircraft back home safely is certainly not unique among the plethora of wartime stories but it is a clear indication that this man can fly.

With his aircraft out of action and no spares on strength, the author is sent to a ‘sugar resort’ near Mackay, Queensland for a short rest. This and other trips, operational and on leave, allow for interesting observations of 1940s Australia through the eyes of a ‘Yank’. Some are accurate while others are a bit hard to believe (I have yet to meet an Australian woman who lived during that time with wooden teeth – the majority had them according to the author).

One of the recurring ‘problems’ the author has when dealing with administration staff on the ‘home front’ is proving to them he is the pilot in command. Staff Sergeant pilots in the USAAF were unheard of to me until I read this book. The same can be said for the majority of those serving in the Army Air Force at the time as Ford regularly, and vehemently, has to prove his credentials and, consequently, makes some enemies with airfield clerks. Never is this more clear than his Christmas 1942 flight to Garbutt airfield (now Townsville airport). Battling intense weather with no radio contact and a bit of anti-aircraft fire approaching Townsville – not to mention performing an Immelman (in a C-47!) to avoid high ground above 4,000 feet – before landing and stopping on the runway due to lack of fuel, Ford has to contend with ‘acquaintances’ whose job it seems is to make life more difficult for everyone else. During these confrontations, and there are several throughout the book, the author maintains a level head and tends to (verbally) throw his weight around a little knowing he is backed-up by orders or regulations. He admittedly, at times, comes across as a bit of a ‘smart-arse’ but he is always in the right and often gets his ‘opponents’ to eat some humble pie.

With the Japanese being ground back to the northern shores of New Guinea, the 6^th TCS is kept busy with many supply flights heading through the mountains to supply the advancing units on the other side. Supplying Dobodura, the author flies two missions before being called on to deliver spares and two mechanics to aid an unserviceable P-38 Lightning. Delivery complete and with the weather rapidly closing in, Ford decides to follow the north coast south-east towards Fall River before refueling and returning to Port Morseby. The weather worsens to such an extent a grassy clearing is selected to land and wait out the storm on. What follows is a stay of at least 36 hours behind enemy lines. This extended ‘adventure’ is only surpassed by the sheer seat-of-the-pants flying required to deliver supplies to Wau – a strip requiring an uphill landing in a short distance with final approach, under fire, over a river and the Japanese controlling three sides of the airfield. Take-off was downhill and often dodging new bomb craters. Ford flew to Wau on numerous occasions and in one two-day period the transport crews delivered more than two thousand soldiers.

The flying and trying life in New Guinea continues unabated with the author completing more than 220 operations before receiving a battlefield commission and the first of his six DFCs. He would go on to fly 364 combat operations before leaving New Guinea in October 1943. When the Korean War began he flew a further 21 operations in a month before enough resources were deployed to allow him to return to regular duties in Japan. An impressive flying career.

It’s certainly an interesting and fascinating story, isn’t it? The writing and editing does not make it easy on the reader though. Indeed, I haven’t had a more frustrating read in a long time. I made a note after reading page 20 – “proof-reading … pretty abysmal, regular spelling mistakes”. Sadly, for the majority of the book, this remains the norm. Place names are misspelt and, on several occasions, words are spelt phonetically suggesting the author dictated part of his story which, in turn, led to the errors due to a lack of follow-up checks.

The book opens, as already described, with the unit’s arrival in New Guinea. This entire event is repeated, unbelievably almost word for word, on page 79. Up to this point only small details had been repeated verbatim but this continues to occur throughout the book. There’s also a few obscure references early on to aspects of the unit’s history or the author’s service which are not explained until well into the read.

There are often extended sections of the book which have no transition or flow between the paragraphs. The author jumps around – “chops and changes” as I wrote in my notes – and tells a story but leaves it hanging before moving on to another anecdote that is usually more or less unrelated. This is particularly frustrating when particular people are talked about. Dates regularly come out of nowhere and, while the book is basically a collection of memories organised chronologically, there is no way to tell when the events occurred unless a date is mentioned. Obviously the majority will have happened in late 1942 through to October 1943 but the author had a distinguished post-war service career and, consequently, met a number of notable people so the occasional story from these meetings will pop up in between flights in New Guinea.

Strangely enough, the spelling, the below-par grammar, the detail and statistical repetition completely and utterly disappear when the author writes about flying. The writing changes from being clunky and disorganised to concise and accurate. The flights to Garbutt, Wau and Dobodura mentioned above – and the overnight stay in the grassy field behind enemy lines – are just some of the well-written passages detailing Ford’s flying that are dotted throughout MNGD. These harrowing accounts are the complete polar opposite, in terms of writing and structure, to the majority of the rest of the book. It’s like a switch has been thrown and is probably one of the more bizarre things I have seen in this genre. The author’s accounts of his actual flying are a joy to read and any enthusiast will marvel at his abilities.

These accounts are certainly the high points of MNGD as the rest is, while a good record of Ford’s time in New Guinea, quite disappointing. The supporting material – the photos and maps – are well-produced on the same paper as the text. The photos in particular are the survivors of Ford’s collection after many were confiscated by the censor in Hawaii as he returned home. This makes what appears in the book all the more valuable as many are of the native people in their traditional dress – a small window into a culture that had war thrust upon it. With regard to the photos, the poor editing that hamstrings the text also makes its presence felt. The first photo to appear in the main body of the book can be found on page 84 while the next photo is on page 85 and refers to a humourous incident … that is not mentioned until page 162! Several captions are also completely wrong. In particular, an aircraft named “Hell’s Angels” is referred to as “Hell’s Bells” and the caption for the photo of the author looking out the side cockpit window of a C-47 says the aircraft is a B-17 when the stencil painted on the aircraft clearly says “C-47”.

There’s a myriad of problems with this book that detract from the quality of the read. Fortunately, they don’t affect the quality of the story. Ford is a spirited and talented flyer with an appreciation for history and a realisation he played his part. This is, more than likely, the first book written by an American transport pilot who flew in New Guinea. At the very least it must be the first written by one of the ‘pioneers’ of the 6^th TCS. A rare book if ever there was one and a rare book in this genre as memoirs about combat flying in transports aren’t exactly thick on the ground. Errors and indifferent editing perhaps make MNGD forgettable but Ernest C. Ford is most certainly not!

Fighting High flying high

2012-01-20T21:20:00.009+11:00

In this age of e-books and online resources you’d think anyone who started up a new, specialist publishing company to produce real, tangible, high quality books would need their head read. With some authors preferring to make their work available in electronic form, and the media screaming the end of paper books is nigh to whoever will listen, it would certainly seem a risky venture. Established and respected author Steve Darlow, however, had other ideas and, with a good network of fellow authors and interested parties, saw the opportunity to try a few things that were a little bit different.

A perfect example of this is the recent announcement that the official book of the Bomber Command Memorial, currently being constructed in London’s Hyde Park, will be designed and published by Fighting High Publishing. We Will Remember Them – The National Memorial to Bomber Command is quite a coup for the Darlow-led publishing house as it was only back in about June 2009 – not long after the release of his challenging Flightpath To Murder by Haynes - that the decision to self-publish Steve’s Fighting High book series was made.

Since then the business has made a name for itself by producing books with high production values. Like all publishers considerable effort is put into the look of each title and the results speak for themselves. Following the publication of the two Fighting High volumes the first ‘stand-alone’ title was released. Richard Pinkham’s On Wings Of Fortune, a remarkable story of flying in three different theatres during the war, was proudly presented as a small, 200-page hardback. The way it was put together – from the glossy dust cover to the well-reproduced photos from Burma (always a fun thing to print given the humid conditions in which the photos were taken) – still impresses me. It just looks right.

This attention to quality of production continued with the next book – Great War To Great Escape (incidentally, the only FH book I have read to date and soon to be featured in a review here). However, as good as these books are, they were always going to be in competition with the, admittedly and fortunately, well-populated aircrew memoir market. The next two books from Fighting High are, from where I sit, groundbreaking and in a class of their own.

Portraits Of The Few features paintings of more than 60 Battle Of Britain veterans accompanied by accounts of their actions in a large-format hardback. While using paintings to illustrate text is nothing new the portraits make for a very personal and striking look at the contribution these men made to a conflict that continues to stir emotions today. Indeed, the intimacy provided by the paintings could perhaps only be matched by a memoir written by one of the men themselves. The book offers, in many cases, the first opportunity to see these men, during their finest hour, in ‘living colour’ – a stark contrast to the black and white war we are all accustomed to.

Matching Portraits’ quiet emotion and intimacy with stories of loss and sacrifice is Bomber Command: Failed To Return. An ensemble cast of well-known authors has come together to present accounts of just some of the thousands of bomber crews who were killed or became prisoners (those who failed to return). Such ‘short stories’ are usually the realm of historic aviation magazines but putting them all together in, again, a large format hardback means men whose exploits may not have come to light now get the recognition they deserve. Like the Bomber Command Memorial mentioned above this is a powerful tribute that owes its existence to a team of dedicated people.

As you might imagine the memorial has featured heavily in Fighting High’s recent history. Veteran and author signings have been held at book launches and as standalone events with proceeds from the latter going towards the well-known fundraising efforts for the memorial. Fighting High’s passion for honouring the bomber crews is evident and, coupled with the already well-established reputation for quality mentioned above, would have made the task of selecting a publisher for the memorial’s book that much easier.

2012, however, is not just about one new book. The success of Failed To Return has spawned a sequel that will no doubt do well with the added ‘bonus’ of the increased interest in Bomber Command as the new memorial is completed. A return to the Battle of Britain and a foray to Malta will come with the June release of ‘Tich’ Palliser’s They Gave Me A Hurricane – a book written by the man himself but, sadly, unpublished at the time of his death late last year. It is the reprinting of a classic biography, though, that will prove the publisher’s commitment to do things right but mix it up a little.

Pathfinder Cranswick was written by journalist Michael Cumming in the early 1960s. Over 40 years it has appeared in several guises, the most recent paperback being self-published. Wanting to keep the story fresh and keep the name of Alec Cranswick (bomber pilot who flew the most ops) ‘out there’, the author researched new material and created an e-book for sale on Amazon. The book has always been regarded as one of the classic Bomber Command biographies so Fighting High, realising the opportunity to bring the book back in its 50^th year, has teamed up with Cumming who, again, has discovered further new material to include in the anniversary edition. This, obviously, is more than just a simple reprint with a fancy new cover or, god forbid, a new title. This will be a classic updated and fresh and at an affordable price which is more than can be said for the old editions on the secondhand market!

You may be wondering why I’ve gone to great lengths to promote one publisher seemingly over the others. There is no favouritism or ‘preferred’ publishers on ABR but credit where it is due. What I have seen over the past few years, from the start of Fighting High to the current success, has been an ability to think a little differently and challenge what is expected of a publisher in this genre. The desire to contribute to the memory of aircrew beyond peddling a product is commendable. High quality, the utmost respect and honouring the memory of aircrew should be paramount with these books and Fighting High does it exceptionally well.

Understanding an addiction

2012-01-03T22:17:00.006+11:00

I think the definition of an addict has in it somewhere the performance of actions that, upon reflection, the afflicted person can’t quite remember doing. Hi, my name is Andy and I’m a book addict. I had a package arrive today (actually there was two of them but let’s not go into details) and, for the life of me, had no idea what book (books) was in it (them). It doesn’t help that I regularly buy books from overseas and the cheap postage attached to the price often means I have to wait up to three months for the surface mail. So be it, it works out in the end. I guess that makes me a cheap addict too.

Anyway, I didn’t recognise the sender of the bigger package and, upon opening it, noted what was a hardback peering out between the gaps between the bubbles of the packaging material (another benefit of being an addict … bubblewrap!). The cover, see below, immediately took me back to early October when I had discovered the existence of yet another Fleet Air Arm memoir I had not heard of. Somehow, again, I have no idea how, I had stumbled upon proof of the existence of Norman Hanson’s Carrier Pilot. As alluded to in the previous ABR post below, I do tend to Google such things so it was not long before I had educated myself and decided this book was a worthy investment if I could find an affordable copy. As much as I love books, I refuse to pay exhorbitant amounts for them (although on very rare occasions I have spent close to A$100 for a thick A4-sized hardback) preferring instead to spread my budget over three, four or even five or six titles (and not all brand new). I guess that makes me a wise addict.

Obviously I managed to find an affordable copy – either that day or striking it lucky with a quick Abebooks ‘Want’ notification I honestly don’t remember – but that is about where it all ends until today. In the hustle and bustle of ‘managing’ the various responsibilities of having a pregnant wife, a birthday, a new niece and the festive season the fact that I had a worthy addition to my collection steaming its way (I suspect with less class and purpose than the author’s HMS Illustrious but with class and purpose all the same) across the high seas completely and utterly flew out of my head. If anything, the thrill of the chase was over and I had moved on. I guess that makes me a fickle addict.

This edition of Carrier Pilot is the 1979 printing by Patrick Stephens Limited (ISBN 0 085059 349 2). Ordinarily I don’t go for books this old – the early ‘80s is usually my cut-off (I know, I’m missing out but one has to draw the line somewhere … so it can be crossed…) – but I am certainly glad I did. With a dust jacket illustrated by Michael Turner and, amazingly, flaps that are almost as eloquently written as the main text, I began to wonder if I had found a ‘forgotten’ classic. I read the first few pages as the front flap suggested and a mild sense of euphoria washed over me. Hanson can write. I guess that makes me a lucky addict.

I have spoken about the use of a dramatic moment from the featured person’s life at the start of the book as an excellent tool to hook the reader. Once the potential reader is attracted by the siren-like call of the cover, only photos and a well-placed ‘kicker’ can suck someone in (I’m generalising). Tim Vigors does it well when he describes the end of his combat flying career at the start of Life’s Too Short To Cry. Equally dramatic is Phil Davenport’s running battle with several Ju-88s in a Sunderland over the Bay of Biscay in Hurrah For The Next Man (reviewed December 2011). And so Hanson does the same although his book appeared on the shelves a good 20+ years before the two examples mentioned above. The chapter is titled "Suddenly there was gunfire…"

Our hero runs to the port side portholes as the carrier’s guns open up on fast and low Betty bombers. Sticking his helmeted head out of the port hole, Hanson has a front row seat before suddenly realizing he was literally sticking his neck out. Trying to pull his head in, he realises his helmet was stuck on the outer rim of the porthole. A nearby explosion forces his entire body back inside – “my head came inside without any trouble, almost pulling in the port-hole with it.” Just as you’re almost chuckling at this scene there’s a shout from a colleague:

Come on, Hans! Stretchers!

Two shells from the cruiser Euryalus had hit the carrier’s island and the shrapnel had rained down on the men man-handling two Grumman Avengers down the deck. Hanson doesn’t say it but his descriptions of what he finds on deck must have happened in slow motion. You can see it and you can feel his shock.

The bos’n, one Charlie Hobbs, notices Hanson’s understandable daze.

Come on, Hans, for God’s sake! Move these lads up against the island!

Hanson reacts:

I caught up the legs of one body and pulled it, slowly and tenderly, to the high, grey wall of the island. I just felt sad – oddly enough, not sick. Just unbelievably sad.

‘Oh! For Christ’s sake, Norman!’ (My Sunday name now!) ‘Get a bloody jerk on, son! Those bastards’ll be back any minute!’ Charlie was grabbing them by the ankles and fairly hurling them across the deck. He looked up and sawy my face.

‘Don’t let it worry you, Hans,’ he said, surprisingly gently and softly, despite the rumpus that seemed to fill the deck. ‘They can’t feel anything now, you know. You can’t hurt them any more.’

What a great man you are, Charlie, I thought. Somewhere along the years you will tell them that you were the bos’n of Illustrious and some smooth bastard who knew the sea only from kicking pebbles into it from Southsea beach will say ‘So what?’ No one but your shipmates will ever know what a sterling character you really are.

That evening Charlie was sewing those mangles kids into tarpaulin sheets.

I’ve left out some of the descriptions of the carnage of course as it is not pleasant but it is written in a way that strikes to the core. How can a book start off with quite dark humour – the helmet stuck in the porthole while under fire – and then, less than a page later, actually hurt to read before marveling at the bravery and humanity of a man in a most dire situation? This chapter is a little over three pages long yet my emotions were all over the place. Not since Murray Peden’s A Thousand Shall Fall have I been so stunned by so few words read (and Peden’s opening elicited a snigger and then full-blown laughter in the first two pages so is really at the other end of the emotional spectrum).

I’m sitting here trying to think what to write next to expand on what I’ve discovered and am trying to, somewhat clumsily, convey. I’m a hopeless addict. Really, since he started it all, the last words should be Norman Hanson’s as they echo what is at the very heart of spreading the word about aircrew books:

That evening, as we cruised slowly south-eastwards, 100 miles or so from the coast of Sumatra, we buried them. Our great ship slowed down to six knots. George Fawkes read the Burial Service, standing beside that silent row of Union flags. One after another the boards were tilted and the hammock-like tarpaulins slid swiftly and quietly into the Indian Ocean. The plaintive notes of the bugle rang out over the great waste of water and they were gone. We could do no more than hope to remember them.

Serendipity

2012-01-02T19:37:00.021+11:00

There I was innocently beavering away at work when I felt the need to stretch. It would not surprise you, as my arms reached out to either side and my head tilted to the ceiling, that something very book-related popped into my head. "I wonder if there's any reviews for The Amiens Raid yet?", I thought. When I have a new book in my collection, and I know I'm not going to read it for some time, I'm always interested to see what the word is on the 'street' from those who have had already had the chance to get stuck in.

In the case of The Amiens Raid - Secrets Revealed by JP Ducellier, I came up dry but only after visiting artist Mark Postlethwaite's website and discovering he is co-owner of the publisher of TAR (Red Kite Books). Amazon didn't look too promising from the Google search but my curiosity got the better of me. There were no reviews to be found but I scrolled down somewhat absent-mindedly (automatic pilot?) and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the following text:

Mediterranean Air War, 1940-1945: North Africa, June 1940 - January 1942 v. 1

The author? The one and only Christopher Shores. I had heard several years ago that the classic (and pricey!) Shores titles like Fighters Over The Desert were being revised and/or reprinted. Thinking these titles would come out singularly as they were updated etc, it is apparent from the Amazon 'blurb' that this one title (over several volumes) proves my theory completely and utterly wrong. If anything, this series will be a stand-alone collection using the earlier books as its foundation and presenting a 'one-stop shop' through the employment of further research, new resources and a theatre-wide scope. Exciting, yes? Not a bad result for an idle thought about a somewhat unrelated book!

Ooh, the link might be worth a look if I've, er, got you going.

Mediterranean Air War, 1940-1945: North Africa, June 1940 - January 1942 v. 1

By the way, that's volume one of just North Africa. Malta, Sicily, greater Italy, Greece, the Aegean and the Balkans will be forthcoming!

Season's Greetings

2011-12-24T23:04:00.018+11:00

It's rapidly approaching the end of Christmas Eve down here so I'll take this opportunity to send a quick Merry Christmas greeting to everyone who has supported ABR this year. I hope this finds you and your loved ones safe and well and ready for what will be a happy new year. We're expecting our first child so 2012 will certainly be a momentous year for ABR HQ.

Thank you to the authors, publishers, family members and fellow enthusiasts for your correspondence and enthusiasm for supporting ABR's mission to help spread the word of the exploits of the aircrew we admire so much.

May the new year bring you all health and happiness and a few new books that will fascinate, inspire and educate.

Cheers!

Andy

Hurrah For The Next Man - Phil Davenport

2011-12-10T20:05:00.010+11:00

Time marches on and we’re simply along for the ride. It, however, gives us the chance to live and grow … or live and learn. Its passing yields experiences too many to count and each of these shape our opinions and views of the world. Many people, through the wonders of technology, publicise their opinions and, more often than not, these published words, qualified or not, are at odds with the views of others. Fair enough. If we were all the same it would be a pretty boring world but are there some writers we should listen to more than others? In relation to war – and you know where I’m going with this – those who have been there should be heard. Phil Davenport, author of Hurrah For The Next Man, is certainly qualified to argue against the sacrifice of good men. I was caught off guard by his apparent initial cynicism (perfectly captured in the title) and disagreed with some of his jaded comments. However, as I read on I realised it was my fortunate naivety – thanks to men such as PD – that clouded my initial judgment. When Phil Davenport talks of the futility of war, or of a Sunderland flying boat under attack from German heavy fighters, we should all listen.

The reader is immediately aware of Davenport’s ‘qualifications’ when he opens his wartime account with his crew’s running, uneven, fatal battle between their No. 461 Squadron RAAF Sunderland and Luftwaffe Ju-88s. A dramatic account is a useful tool to hook a reader and it is employed well here. While, naturally, told out of sequence it perfectly illustrates the threats to the long-range Coastal Command crews. The reality of flying the Sunderland is laid bare and this action – indeed, this ‘environment’ when the Germans countered the defensive successes of the ‘boats with flights of heavily armed long-range fighters – sticks in the back of the reader’s mind.

Growing up in Sydney with two younger brothers Davenport keeps a ‘weather eye’ on the various political and military posturings around the globe. Quite worldly, as a result, his volunteering for service is inevitable. His two brothers also join the air force and the reader is given a brief window into the trepidation of a family (and community) sending its sons to war and then waiting for a telegram that hopefully never comes.

Unlike his brother Jack (future No. 455 Squadron RAAF Hampden and Beaufighter pilot) PD only completes his initial ground training in Australia before sailing for Southern Rhodesia via a decidedly unwelcoming South Africa.

Six weeks of Tiger Moth flying and another 14 in the Harvard has the author graduating and returning to South Africa for a Navigation and Reconnaissance Course. His time learning to fly is told matter-of-factly with equal space given to his experiences on the ground and observations of the social aspect of life in Southern Rhodesia. His life in South Africa proceeds similarly before embarking for the UK to eventually arrive in February 1942. Two months later, having reunited with his brother Jack on several occasions, Davenport has his first flight in a Sunderland and, after a few episodes of ‘gale watch’ aboard moored aircraft, is soon in the thick of it as a flying boat second officer before, after three months, becoming a permanent first officer. His ‘welcome’ to the world of Sunderlands consisted of anti-shipping strikes, bad weather, U-boat sightings and successful encounters with enemy fighters. All this and not even close to being halfway through his tour of 800 hours or 75 ops! All adventures are written with an eye for detail – particularly descriptions of weather and sea conditions – and more than a little wry, unintentional humour e.g. in a stalled Sunderland coming out of an updraught and experiencing negative G, the author on the flight deck with his head “pressed against an overhead panel” used “both feet to line up the throttles.”

Leave, ferrying an aircraft to a dismal servicing depot in Scotland and then having to endure six weeks at said depot waiting for said aircraft to be finished eventually led to another series of patrols that culminate in a night take-off accident the crew are lucky to survive when a surging, and ultimately seizing, engine causes the Sunderland to cartwheel into the water just short of a stone jetty. Davenport’s luck holds as he is later involved in a successful attack on a U-boat before being given his own Sunderland to command. Six patrols later the crew are engaged by the six Ju-88s in the action that introduces us to Davenport’s flying boat war at the start of the book. They return to operations after survivors’ leave in late August 1943 and immediately encounter 88s again but are, happily, saved by Mosquitos. The use of Mosquitos over the Bay of Biscay was partly in answer to the threat of the Ju-88s.

Tiredness, in mind and body, took its toll towards the end of the tour and a momentary lapse of judgment had him lining the Sunderland up on the grass runway at Haverford West in order to give the place a good ‘beat-up’. This stunt, however, was witnessed by the Group Air Officer Commanding and Davenport was given the choice of a court-martial or, luckily, three weeks at a disciplinary school. The latter was chosen of course and proved to be surprisingly refreshing and constructive despite the best efforts of some of the ‘instructors’.

PD’s final landing in a Sunderland was on January 4, 1944 and he left 461 for an OTU at Alness, Scotland. His two weeks’ leave involved attending the wedding of his brother Jack (all three brothers reunited after youngest Keith had joined 461 just prior to PD’s posting) – also in Scotland. The ceremony and events surrounding this special occasion are lovingly told (see also Kristen Alexander’s Jack Davenport Beaufighter Leader).

This happy time continued into the author’s stint at No. 4 Sunderland Operational Training and Maintenance Unit although it initially looked as though he was in for a frustrating time. Commanding the ‘test flight’ section of the unit Davenport was in charge of a range of men who, in one way or the other, all resented being sent to a ‘backwater’ instead of an operational squadron or, in the case of tour-expired chaps, home. Maintenance was performed to a minimum standard with little or no responsibility taken. Displaying the leadership that came so naturally as a flying boat captain Davenport ensured proper sign-offs and independent checks of ‘completed’ work by technical aircrew. Slowly but surely the quality of work improved and the five months spent at Alness became the most enjoyable of his service.

Operational flying beckoned, however, and Davenport became a Mosquito pilot. The conversion from Sunderlands to Mossies is, surprisingly, not detailed beyond a photo of the course pilots. Perhaps there was no need as the author took to the de Havilland design like the proverbial duck to water. His affinity with the aircraft oozes from his writing and, experienced but indifferent navigator aside, there is every indication he was an effective strike pilot.

His thirteenth operation with No. 235 Squadron in April 1945, and the first with a new navigator who would save their lives, was also his last. Davenport and Ron Day are helped by local Norwegians before being interrogated by the Germans after crash-landing on a frozen lake. What follows is a necessarily short but detailed account of something you don’t read about too often – a POW imprisoned in Norway.

Finally making it home to Australia in September 1945, the author was uncertain of his future. What to do? The United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration was considered a good place to try his hand and, by April 1946, Davenport was on his way to China to be a depot master for a canal project north-west of Shanghai. Perfectly suited to the role, he ultimately, somewhat unbelievably after so many years of war, found himself in another conflict – the Chinese civil war.

As Davenport’s career with UNRRA progressed in China so did the war. He was soon very much in the front-line and even found himself under fire again – this time from the air and from the banks of rivers he tried to navigate small ships through on supply runs. Surrounded by death, persecution and brutality he kept his head – figuratively and literally – to return to Australia at the end of 1947.

Already a man who did not suffer fools or bureaucracy lightly, Davenport’s experiences in China appear to have had the most profound affect on his view of the world and it shows throughout his writing. At times his apparent cynicism comes across as a little too much but, as alluded to in the opening of this review, his opinion is, more than anyone else’s on this occasion, completely justified. The book is most definitely written looking back through 60+ years of life with any ‘innocence of youth’ decidedly absent and replaced by a well-honed and earned weariness with those who govern us. Observant of the world around him, Davenport is not a stereotypical Australian with a healthy disrespect for authority. Instead he has a disdain for inequality and for those who would not get their hands dirty or sought to feather their own nest ahead of any compassion for their fellow man.

HFTNM is the first flying boat-based book to feature on ABR. Indeed, it is the first Sunderland book I have read in a very long time. How it compares to others in this area I cannot say. Certainly not technical in its delivery, with a distinct lack of ‘numbers’, the writing provides a good idea of what it was like to fly (and fly in) one of Short Brothers’ finest. Flying the big aircraft into combat is related in an easy, flowing manner. In some cases not a lot is written about particular events but none are lacking on detail with Davenport writing efficiently and effectively. Initial physical inspection of the book is misleading as there is plenty of detail – not just of his flying but also of the good men he served with – throughout. It is said maritime patrols consist of long hours of boredom punctuated by brief moments of sheer terror. If anything, Davenport, in his first tour, experienced more than his fair share of the latter.

Very few of the books relevant to ABR glorify war. In fact it is probably fair to say none do. However it is easy to get wrapped up in the action and hi-jinks that pervaded the lives of aircrew and become somewhat addicted to these rollicking tales. The ‘experienced’ reader knows, however, that, with absolute certainty, death, injury and loss are but a page away and that these aspects of the war were as much a part of an airman’s life as the combat and ‘play hard’ attitude. Living with such things hanging over you and realising you were just “one of those grains of sand or drops of water” would certainly lead to a questioning of the sense (or lack of) of it all. Never have I come across a book that illustrates this combined sense of helplessness and frustration at being put in harm’s way to do another’s bidding so well. Phil Davenport had a choice to go to war and did (and did it well). Many others since have had that choice made for them. That they have means, to some extent, we haven’t learnt a thing.

An attractive and well-produced paperback, HFTNM features more the 80 photos throughout the book printed on the same, high-quality semi-gloss paper as the main text. Footnotes are extensive and the four maps preceding the excellent index are clear and detailed and among the best I have seen in this genre.

Published by Beachcomber Press in 2009 in Tasmania the entire package is the perfect vehicle for Davenport’s story. I have seen it available in museums and some specialist bookshops (online and 'shopfront'). You can also contact the publisher at Beachcomber Press.

Review copy ISBN 978-0-9805265-0-9

Owen Zupp online

2011-12-07T16:06:00.012+11:00

Author and pilot Owen Zupp has launched a new website to showcase his aviation, writing and guest speaking expertise.

Since the publication of his highly-regarded Down To Earth (the first book featured on ABR) Owen's writing portfolio has gone from strength to strength. He is a regular contributor to antipodean stalwarts such as Australian Aviation and his work can also be found in industry heavyweights like FlyPast magazine. A former Tiger Moth owner and the brains (and 'muscle'!) behind There And Back - the Royal Flying Doctor Service around Australia charity flight - Owen is the consummate aviation professional who knows his stuff and can get it down on paper in an entertaining and informative manner.

While the website offers but a window into the life and writings of Owen Zupp it also allows us to pick up on hints about his latest book projects. Now that is something to get excited about!

Owen Zupp - author, pilot, speaker

The RAAF In Russia - Geoffrey W Raebel

2011-10-08T18:51:00.005+11:00

You’d think by now, with the plethora of information out there, not to mention the archives that are available to the public, the release of new books featuring new material would become quite a rare occurrence. However with letters and diaries etc continuing to come to light this couldn’t be further from the truth.

The recent launch of The Amiens Raid is the perfect example of a book full of previously unpublished material. The forthcoming new edition of Pathfinder Cranswick, however, is an older book with new and updated material. It is the subsequent editions of books that, I reckon, prove you can’t keep a good story, or author for that matter, down. Just because an author finally has his/her work published doesn’t always mean the research on the subject matter stops. The more prolific authors are more likely to turn their considerable skills to a new project but many authors become true specialists in their chosen field and continue their passionate research. Often the publication of their work generates interest from readers who have additional knowledge and/or material previously undiscovered by the author.

Such is the case with the second edition of Geoff Raebel’s The RAAF In Russia. The original was the result of six years of Geoff’s work – and an interest stemming from listening to his father’s stories of No. 455 Squadron’s epic Russian adventure. Twelve years and even more research later, the second edition is a self-published paperback of 149 A4 pages.

Flying the Hampden, a type retired from Bomber Command, on anti-shipping torpedo strikes was not one of the ‘better’ jobs for a crew but it was a task carried out with dedication and skill. The very nature of torpedo work meant little time to recover the aircraft if it was hit during the run in (or post-drop). Any chance of a crewmember taking control of a Hampden with an incapacitated pilot was severely hampered by the narrowness of the aircraft’s fuselage and the virtual isolation of each of the crew – a particular disadvantage the Bomber Command crews (some of whom were now the torpedo crews) were only too well aware of. As is typical of these men they took the risks in their stride, just as they did the challenge of flying to Russia - a destination beyond the range of the Hampden - to help protect the Arctic convoys from German surface ship attack.

The author does not forget the groundcrew who, after a long sea journey, endured harsh conditions that made the simplest of tasks difficult. It was, even during such exceptional times, an epic journey by anyone’s standards ... and the author follows it every step of the way.

More than 120 photos and diagrams support Geoff’s narrative as he takes us to Russia and back. This is the book for the Hampden operations in Russia. There’s more on Geoff’s website and you can buy the book direct from him - RAAF In Russia

Tiger Cub - Christopher Yeoman and John Freeborn

2011-09-11T20:21:00.007+10:00

Beginning in 2007 the book jumps back to 1938 with Freeborn arriving at Hornchurch not very sure of himself. The ensuing chapter describes Freeborn’s start as a fighter pilot. The Battle of Barking Creek is covered with Roger Bushell [of Great Escape ‘fame’] appearing. The chapter seemed short though.

After Freeborn’s Dunkirk adventures Yeoman writes as if he is writing a 74 Squadron diary with short stories of Freeborn in between. One of the things that surprised me was that this book has only 25 pages about the Battle of Britain. A bit of a disappointment. An interesting surprise was the way Yeoman compares 74 to 92 Squadron.

The final verdict is this (a slim 130 pages) doesn’t quite do Freeborn justice. If you’re looking for something like 74’s 1939-41 record this is your book.

Jim Balasch, Ontario - winner of ABR's second anniversary mini-review competition.

And the winner is...

2011-09-11T16:33:00.003+10:00

Jim Balasch of Ontario. Jim sent in a tidy review of Christopher Yeoman's and John Freeborn's Tiger Cub - A 74 Squadron Fighter Pilot In WWII which is subtitled as The Story Of John Freeborn DFC*. The review will be published in the next ABR post.

While there weren't a lot of entries for the second anniversary competition Jim was pretty quick off the mark and his writing has won him a prize from the Temora Aviation Museum - home of Australia's premier flying collection of historic aircraft, the majority of which have extensive service histories with the Royal Australian Air Force. In some cases, as with the Wirraway and Hudson, the aircraft flew during some of the darkest days of the war and are an outstanding tribute to the people without whom they would simply be large pieces of shapely metal.

Congratulations, Jim, and thank you for your ongoing support of Aircrew Book Review. As you said, here's to many more anniversaries for ABR.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

2011-08-26T11:15:00.005+10:00

Apologies for next to nothing happening this month on ABR. I've been busy with work and haven't felt like sitting in front of the computer at home too much.

There's lots to do though. I've picked a winner for the ABR second anniversary mini-review competition and will be announcing that in the next post. The prize has been sitting on my desk for a few weeks now.

You will have also seen a few additions to the promoted books down the right-hand side of every ABR page. I will write blurbs for some of these - namely Remember Me, Finish Forty And Home, Upside Down In The Dark, the new editions of Under A Bomber's Moon and The RAAF In Russia and, leading the sudden surge in books covering Australians flying in the Pacific, Darwin Spitfires. DS is already in its second printing after its release earlier this year and preceded two other books on the subject - Peter Ewer's Storm Over Kokoda and Whispering Death by Mark Johnston. As an aside, all three have been published by long-established publishers so should get wide distribution to large chain stores.

I will also be looking at the new e-book version of the Edwards/Lavigne classic Kittyhawk Pilot which, like Michael Cumming's Pathfinder Cranswick, is set to re-vitalise this title's availability. Speaking of the latter, watch this space for some exciting news regarding the 50th anniversary edition of this great book.

Of course these little blurbs are to help promote the books and keep ABR active. The next full reviews (Phil Davenport's Hurrah For The Next Man and then My New Guinea Diary by Ernest Ford) are probably a month away as my next few weekends are mostly full. I will endeavour to get these written as soon as I can.

In the meantime if you hear of a new book coming out, or have a new book coming out, I am always happy to help promote it. Authors of several of the ABR-featured books above have commented on contacts made via this website. That's what it's here for. Onwards and upwards!

I blame Ron Cundy

2011-07-30T22:55:00.002+10:00

I am always on the lookout for someone to blame when it comes to my apparent inability to not go searching for new or previously unheard of books to buy or add to the wish list. I mean, it's only fair...

It occurred to me that while I can blame my wife, friends and family I can also land some squarely at the feet of a former Kittyhawk pilot. Ron Cundy, author of the magic A Gremlin On My Shoulder, is this pilot. Although I read his book about three years ago the references within its pages continue to resonate with me today (as well as his exploits). RC, an Australian, briefly flew Hurricanes in the UK before joining No 260 Squadron RAF in North Africa. His desert flying led to the award of a DFM and DFC although you would be hard-pressed to realise it in the book given the modest nature of the man and his writing.

This modesty, however, means he gives a lot of credit to other fine men ahead of himself. Two of the men who particularly stand out are his CO - the gloriously-named, Battle of Britain veteran Osgood Villiers 'Pedro' Hanbury DSO DFC* - and the baby-faced Canadian ace James Francis 'Stocky' Edwards DFM DFC*. Both obviously were close friends of RC and had a profound effect on his life in the desert.

Both had a profound effect on me too as I read so I decided to look into them further. As these things go, I am often distracted from such tasks by other fascinating aircrew but I at least noted that JFE had written a biography with a chap called Michael Lavigne. Kittyhawk Pilot was added to my wish-list and promptly pushed to the back of my head as something that I would eventually stumble across. Michael Lavigne, however, was very much at the forefront of my attention when I discovered he had written, with JFE, two 'bibles' about Canadians in the desert - Hurricanes Over The Sands and Kittyhawks Over The Sands. The period when I began lusting after these thick, A4-format hardbacks happened to be mid-2008 - and I spent most of 2009 unemployed after being made redundant. My investigations had determined these books were hard to find and necessarily pricey so, like Kittyhawk Pilot, they were kept at the back of my mind but ‘refreshed’ as I made long-distance enquiries through the wonderful people at Comox Air Force Museum in Canada as they seemed to be the only seller of the books.

This correspondence led to the eventual purchase of these two books and they arrived, after three months at sea, to a rapturous welcome and much joy. Starting a new and great job in early 2010 certainly added to the enjoyment as did an automatic email from Abebooks informing me it had found a copy of Kittyhawk Pilot within my (lowish) price range.

2010 was indeed a red-letter year as Grub Street released (or at least that's when I was made aware of it) Pedro: the life and death of fighter ace Osgood Villiers Hanbury, DSO, DFC and bar by Rhoderick Jones. I managed to contain my excitement - well, my credit card reflex - until just this month when Abebooks again came through with an affordable copy (less than A$20) and the book arrived on my doorstep last week. On top of all that I learned Vintage Wings of Canada fly their Kittyhawk in JFE's colours and even sell a t-shirt...

So, from the humble beginnings of reading the self-effacing biography of a truly great pilot and writer, to the discovery, 'chase' and final success in finding copies of these books, it has been a journey of three years. While, in the great scheme of things, I haven't devoted a lot of time and energy to finding these books, it's been most enjoyable and included a few doses of serendipity. The icing on the cake will be when I finally get the chance to read them one of these days! In the meantime, I can look at them on the shelf, leaf through their pages filled with fascination, remember the path that led me to them and think about the man who is responsible for it all. It's all your fault, Ron Cundy ... thank you.

Zero Hour In Broome - Dr Tom Lewis & Peter Ingman

2011-07-10T21:14:00.006+10:00

I love hearing about new books that have been hitherto unknown to me. While I try to keep my finger on the pulse of such things I certainly don’t proclaim to be across everything. Therefore, it is always a nice surprise to learn about a forthcoming book and even more of a surprise to stumble upon one recently published. This was the case when Peter Ingman, author and publisher, contacted me out of the blue late last year. He mentioned his new book, Zero Hour In Broome, and how it was written to set the record straight on what was the second deadliest air raid on Australia during the war. While not immediately my forte the book was intriguing as my knowledge was limited to a passing reference learnt at school and a very few magazine articles filled with photos of burnt-out aircraft and ‘general’ details of the massacre on board the flying boats moored in Roebuck Bay. Review it? Why not? If a book purports to challenge the status-quo then it must have good reason to.

In early 1942, as the Japanese swept all before them down the island chains of South-east Asia, Australia was reminded how ill-prepared its defences were when Darwin was bombed. The aftermath of this and subsequent raids resulted in Darwin largely being evacuated – its civilian population heading south. In the months leading up to the first attack on Broome (and Darwin a fortnight earlier), Japanese Mavis flying boats were very active in the north-west with attacks on shipping in particular being a regular occurrence. All of this activity, reaching further and further down the coast from Darwin, gave the Japanese a detailed understanding of not only the remoteness of the area but also the apparent light defences of the few ‘major’ towns in the region. Indeed, if anything, they over-estimated said defences but, arguably, were able to develop a much better ‘big picture’ of the military side of things than the senior Allied commanders charged with defending the thousands of miles of coastline that make up Australia’s west.

Broome is roughly the same distance – around 1,000 kilometres – from Timor as other towns in the area (Darwin, Wyndham and Derby). Its location on Roebuck Bay made it ideal for flying boat operations – extreme tidal movement aside – and the Americans in particular had recognised its small airfield was an important staging post for the expected withdrawal from the Dutch East Indies as considerable development work had been hurriedly and expertly completed by local contractors before the March 3 attack.

Indeed, it was Broome’s remoteness that made it an attractive destination for the evacuation flights. There was less chance of fighter interception due to the long over-water route. QANTAS, the Australian airline, had been ordered to set up operations in Roebuck Bay for this very reason after losing an Empire flying boat to fighters off Timor. Dutch airliners found Broome to be almost at the limit of their range but the skill and dedication of the aircrew meant they performed above and beyond what was expected of them time and time again and the civilian aircraft were a familiar sight as they shuttled evacuees to Broome and then south to the safety of the Australian cities.

This flurry of activity – RAAF aircraft, Dutch military and civilian aircraft and American heavy bombers – indicated the importance of Broome. The men flying in and out of the town knew it. The civilians and service personnel fleeing the clutches of the advancing Japanese were grateful for it. Even the Japanese recognised it. The senior commanders of the Allied forces in the region were perhaps the last to realise it, however, and Broome was, save for some local militia, defenceless when the Zeroes appeared on the morning of March 3.

The devastation caused by the Japanese fighters during this attack is certainly the most well-known aspect of the Broome debacle with several of the flying boats present – some alighting just hours before – being caught with their mostly civilian passengers still on board (the task of unloading them quickly at their moorings being another of Broome’s inadequacies). Carnage is really the only word that can describe the results of the Japanese strafing attacks. They left no aircraft untouched both on Roebuck Bay and at the airfield on the edge of town.

Understandably, the days after the attack were infused with panic. Rumours abounded and steps were taken to deny any Japanese force of useful infrastructure should an invasion seem likely. As with Darwin, large groups of people – not just Dutch evacuees - were flown and sailed south. Some even tried the overland route. Perhaps perpetuating many of the rumours, and certainly doing little to quell the rising state of panic, was the local American commander who comes across as quite highly-strung and prone to distraction. That said the evacuation of Broome was performed remarkably efficiently.

If anything, the attack stung command into action with a sudden realisation of just how vulnerable things were in the north-west. Within less than a month of the first attack – notwithstanding the second raid which resulted in the airfield being bombed and strafed – plans were underway to bolster the defences or to at least make it harder for the Japanese. These arrangements stood in stark contrast to the apparent neglect exhibited by senior commanders during the time leading up to the first attack. Surprisingly, it couldn’t be said that ‘heads were rolled’ because of this neglect. While resources weren’t numerous, there was a definite lack of initiative to use what was available – or at least direct it to where it would have been most useful.

The attacks on the northern coast of Australia (and the submarine attacks on Sydney Harbour) provided the ‘kick up the bum’ desperately needed by military commanders and the government. Australia had already been at war for more than two years and Japanese activity had been very aggressive (an understatement) since early December, 1941. Three months later, the northern coast – the area closest to fighting at the time – was grossly neglected in terms of military resources. Opinions at the time perhaps centred on defending the major cities and letting any invading force deal with the harsh and remote northern climes but this led directly to any form of transport in the northern quarter of the country effectively being open to attack at any time of day or night. Sadly, for the men, women and children in Broome fleeing the surprisingly unstoppable Japanese, this vulnerability was fully exploited on that sunny morning in early March, 1942.

ZHIB is an easy read. Its detail and level of discussion ranges far wider than what I’ve written above. Well-presented, this deceptively thin paperback gives equal treatment to the variety of people involved in the lead-up to the attack as it does to those who survived and then struggled to maintain an even keel in the confusing aftermath. While the people involved are introduced and discussed in the main text, the machines that attracted the attention of the Japanese in the Broome area are not forgotten. As much a study of the human aspect of the attack, ZHIB also provides a comprehensive understanding of the ‘hardware’ available to both sides at the time. ‘Profiles’ of the aircraft involved – Japanese, American, Australian, Dutch and British – abound and provide significant information for each type and the specific examples present at the time.

It is these profiles, however, that caused the greatest amount of frustration for me. All repeat considerable detail found in the main text so I was left with a distinct feeling of déjà vu which, in turn, raised questions about the proof-reading. However, the detail in these profiles allows them to be read as stand-alone ‘articles’. Simply reading the main text and ignoring the profiles would avoid this repetition although there are several instances where you catch yourself thinking “I’ve just read this.” With so much going on concurrently, particularly ‘peripheral’ things like the preparations for moving the civilian pearling fleet south, it was necessary to touch on an event or a person’s actions several times throughout the book either directly or in providing context.

In among all of this detail, activity and facts, the authors challenge many of the myths surrounding the attack and particularly tackle the accepted number of Dutch ‘officially’ reported to have moved through Broome. The ‘official’ number is 8,000 but the authors believe it was roughly a quarter of that. Similarly they ask questions of the command structure and its inability to forecast an escalation of Japanese activity in the region ... or even listen to those who knew the area and the danger it faced due to its proximity to Japanese territory and its remoteness from Australia’s major cities. Civilian organisations like QANTAS also come under the microscope with the Australian airline’s attitude towards the Americans in particular and sharing of resources being regarded as a possible contributor to the inefficiency of flying boat ‘handling’ in Roebuck Bay.

The important thing with all of these questions and alternate views is that the authors provide answers/reasoning that are at once sensible and clearly well-researched and referenced. Indeed, on that last point, each chapter is heavily footnoted and ably supported by a clear and extensive bibliography. Japanese sources are used to advantage, particularly when detailing the damage the surviving Zeroes returned home with – evidence of some resistance by those few men with access to weapons – and with regard to the two fighters lost. Perhaps the bravest action by one of the ‘defenders’ - Gus Winckel wresting an aerial machine-gun from his soon-to-be-destroyed aircraft and firing it ‘mounted’ on his forearm – is also scrutinised but done so honourably so as not to detract from his gallantry. The accepted outcome is challenged through logic, eye-witness accounts and referencing and while the authors reach a different conclusion, in no way do they ‘get personal’ with regard to this well-respected and determined pilot.

Coupled with appendices that span less than 20 pages but are phenomenally detailed (quick reference aircraft and vessel histories) and particularly sobering in places (groups of victims with the same surname), ZHIB offers an intelligent analysis of an event ‘everyone’ in Australia and Holland ‘knows’ of but is perhaps not ‘educated’ about (I know I wasn’t). It does so in a clear and effective manner with the authors taking obvious care to keep the language straight-forward and easy to follow. The text is illustrated by an impressive array of photographs and diagrams with the photos in particular not being ‘blown up’ to such an extent where their obvious grain detracts from the image. As a result there are many small images throughout but never is it a struggle to discern detail. Add to that a cover which cleverly combines a surprising amount of information and you’ve got a book that has become a landmark in the study of the war in Australia’s north-west. The authors refer to the official Australian war histories as the “obvious first resource”. With regard to the attacks on Broome I think ZHIB can be counted almost as a parallel resource.

ZHIB is presented as a crisp, clean paperback. Although less than 200 pages long the book has a solid feel to it and the organisation of the discussion and arguments is a perfect foil to the obvious disorganisation of the Broome defence situation.

It occurred to me this book should be considered by education boards as part of the curriculum for schools teaching Australian wartime history. While the avid adult reader of this genre will get a lot out of ZHIB, it is written in a way that will appeal to most ages and, despite the obvious ‘serious’ title of one of the authors, it never comes across ‘academically’ i.e. an effort to read.

I’ve seen the book in several stores and it is available direct from the publisher, Avonmore Books. While not an obvious bargain physically – it is not a huge book – it is well-priced in terms of content, both information and illustrations.

10,000 visitors - thank you!

2011-07-07T14:23:00.002+10:00

I really can't say any more than that. Thank you for your support. It's not a tally that will set the world on fire but considering ABR has been dormant for months on end at times over the past 2+ years, it's probably the first big milestone. Certainly something I've been gunning for.

Here's to the next 10,000. Thank you again.

The winner of the second anniversary mini-review competition will be anounced shortly.

Richard Stowers goes electronic

2011-06-28T19:21:00.003+10:00

Well-known New Zealand author Richard Stowers has launched his new website detailing his extensive list of written work.

Covering more than just RAF and Commonwealth aircrew, Richard is perhaps New Zealand's most prolific published author of the modern day. If Bomber Barron and Cobber Kain are anything to go by, his latest work and 'back catalogue' are well-produced and good value for money.

Have a look at richardstowers.co.nz and keep an eye on it for new books.

Quick reference - review library

2011-06-08T16:02:00.040+10:00

Link at left to connect to this listing. Incomplete listing for test. Please let me know if any of the links do not work.

A
Another Dawn Another Dusk - Kenneth Ballantyne
Alamein To The Alps - Mark Lax
A Gremlin On My Shoulder - Ron Cundy DFC
A Most Secret Squadron - Des Curtis DFC
A Thousand Shall Fall - Murray Peden

B
Beaufighters In The Night - Brick Eisel
Beyond Courage - Norman Franks

C
Chasing Shadows - Stephen Lewis with Bob Cowper
Clive Caldwell Air Ace - Kristen Alexander

D
Desert Flyer - Martyn R. Ford-Jones
Down To Earth - Kenneth McGlashan with Owen Zupp

F
First Light - Geoffrey Wellum
From Dogfight To Diplomacy - Donald MacDonnell
Flightpath To Murder - Steve Darlow

G
Going Solo - Roald Dahl

H
Hurrah For The Next Man - Phil Davenport

J
Jack Davenport Beaufighter Leader - Kristen Alexander
Just One Of The Many - Dudley C Egles MID

L
Life's Too Short To Cry - Tim Vigors DFC

M
Mosquito: Menacing The Reich - Martin Bowman
My New Guinea Diary - Ernest C. Ford

N
Not Peace But A Sword - Wing Commander Patrick Gibbs
Night After Night - Max Lambert

S
Ship-Busters - Ralph Barker
6 Group Bomber Command - Chris Ward
Six O'Clock Diamond - Gus Officer
Spitfires, Thunderbolts And Warm Beer - Philip D. Caine

T
The Biggin Hill Wing 1941 - Peter Caygill
They Gave Me A Seafire - 'Mike' Crosley DSC*, RN
Torpedo Leader - Wing Commander Patrick Gibbs

U
Under A Bomber's Moon - Stephen Harris

W
Wings Of Destiny - Charles Page

Z
Zero Hour In Broome - Dr Tom Lewis & Peter Ingman

Ted The Lad - Ted Cachart

2011-06-05T15:44:00.004+10:00

It never ceases to amaze me how many stories are out there. As far as I'm concerned all are worthy of publication be it in a magazine or the 'complete' treatment - a book (or, in the case of someone like Terence O'Brien, a trilogy!). Considering the story detailed below, it was quite a surprise to speak with Ted Cachart earlier this year and discover he and a friend had set up their own publishing house to ensure their stories got out there.

Ted and his partner-in-crime, John Ward, are perhaps best known for their No. 49 Squadron history Beware Of The Dog At War (now in its second printing). It is Ted's time with 49, and his RAF career beforehand, however, that has only recently been made known through the publication of Ted The Lad. The sub-title could not be more apt - A Schoolboy Who Went To War - as Ted "accepted the King's Shilling" and became an aircrew trainee a month before his sixteenth birthday!

Trained as a Wireless Operator/Air Gunner, he and his crew became POWs on their seventh op after their Lancaster collided with another in the first few days of January, 1944. While all of the men we read about were way too young, having access to a boy's perspective of the bomber crew experience must surely be unique?

While not a new book by any means, this is certainly one to consider. Visit the JoTe Publications page or email Ted direct tedtheladATtiscali.co.uk

Another Dawn Another Dusk - Kenneth Ballantyne

2011-05-29T18:58:00.004+10:00

Perspective is a fascinating thing. It is, of course, inherent to the books featured on ABR (as it is for all books of all genres). In terms of the World War 2 aircrew featured here, we encounter stories told in the first person, by a fellow crewmember, by the veteran turned historian, by the ‘professional’ historian or by the enthusiast (for want of a better word) who has been lucky enough to stumble upon the papers of an airman, or the man himself, and thought “This would make a great book”. For all it is a challenge to convey what was experienced 70 years ago. Other than those who were there, how do you imagine what the flak or the loss of friends was like? Yes, being able to record or read first-person accounts is insanely beneficial but it still comes down to the writer’s ability to weave his or her magic. Hit or miss, the stories are out there and we are wiser for them for it is often the enthusiast that turns up the gems – the hitherto untold stories of remarkable people.

Kenneth Ballantyne is one of these enthusiasts but he’s had a little help. A father in the military and a lifelong interest in all things RAF surely must have made his job a little easier. The decision to write the story of rear gunner Trevor Bowyer DFC, ISM – a veteran of two tours – in the first person, however, was not the easiest path to follow. To see the war through Trevor’s eyes required an immense amount of knowledge of the war to begin with but certainly would have included long periods of time with the family and Bowyer’s contemporaries. A challenge if ever there was one. The result? Another Dawn Another Dusk – a well-produced paperback written with such insight I had to keep reminding myself it was Kenneth doing the writing not Trevor!

Trevor Bowyer grew up in Shrewsbury, Shropshire. Son of a railwayman and a dressmaker, his childhood was not privileged nor was it destitute. The sheer hard work of his parents saw him through a decent education and instilled a good work ethic in the young man. He earned pocket-money helping the milkman on weekends and holidays but it was an application to join the Post Office, upon completion of his schooling, that set him on a path of public service by way of a delightful interview process.

After more than four years TB transfers to Crewe. The call of the railway was obviously stronger than he realised as he spent from 1933 to the very early stages of the war working as a sorter on the Travelling Post Office – a series of special trains that ensured overnight mail delivery the length and breadth of ‘mainland’ UK. Sorters on these special trains were on their feet throughout their night shifts and had to maintain intense concentration for long periods of time. The journeys were often cold and, with the weather and then wartime disruptions, prone to long delays despite taking precedence over most other rail traffic. Surely there could not have been a better preparation for someone destined to be an air gunner?

The start of the war sees our hero still travelling up and down the country on the TPO. Well aware of how his country happened to be at war again - indicated by a variety of tangential and contextual passages (more on those later) - Trevor decides to volunteer for aircrew rather than wait for his inevitable call-up. Hoping to be a bomber pilot – being subjected to, and living among the ruins caused by, the Luftwaffe’s raids on London in the months leading up to November 1940 seems to have had a particular influence on this decision – but not really minding as long as he is “part of a bomber crew”, TB is surprised to find he has indeed been selected for pilot training. Initial training is at RAF Bridgnorth, a mere 20 miles from his hometown of Shrewsbury. Progressing happily enough, he ends up at RAF Cranwell to begin his flying training. While he learnt to fly the Tiger Moth he was told his eyesight was not quite up to scratch – he was slightly colour-blind.

Deemed fit to remain as aircrew, nothing was of interest besides the role of air gunner. Graduating his 10-week gunnery course as a sergeant just before Christmas 1941, our budding gunner had already experienced the first of his close shaves when the Botha he was training in loses an engine on take-off and crash-lands. Shaken but not hurt, the entire crew were back flying that afternoon.

No. 21 Operational Training Unit is Trevor’s home from early 1942 and he soon climbs into a Wellington for the first time. In short order, TB’s embryonic crew find themselves being briefed for the first 1,000 bomber raid. As luck would have it, 45 minutes after taking off for Cologne, the crew was landing back at base having had an engine fail.

Trevor does complete his first op (Essen) on the night of June 1. Engaged and damaged by a night fighter, and having fired his guns for the first time in combat, Trevor, wonders how on earth he is going to make it through an entire tour. A reprieve of sorts is forthcoming the following morning when his crew is posted to No. 70 Squadron in Egypt.

Transiting through the Mediterranean, Trevor and his crew soon lose their pilot – posted to Palestine – and fly their first three ops with three different pilots. Having settled into the Desert Air Force way of life proper, the crew were quite unnerved to be flying without a regular skipper, so much so the CO, a Wing Commander Wood, flew them on their next trip at the head of a squadron formation attacking troop concentrations. The crew were not allocated a permanent pilot until August. Soon after, down low strafing enemy transport, an AA shell exploded beneath the rear turret. Trevor’s oxygen mask is shot away by a cannon shell that would have killed him had he not been thrown back in his seat. The rest of the crew only knew he was still with them when they heard his guns resume firing. Indeed, upon seeing the condition of the tail and turret area upon returning home, everyone was surprised that all he made it out with was a sore head.

So much for a posting to the desert being a reprieve, huh? The tour didn’t let up as in early September 1942, during a raid on Tobruk, Trevor and his crew are shot down 30 miles behind enemy lines. Three days later, walking east, they were picked up by a friendly unit. Another crew shot down that same night made it back 23 days later! The Bowyer luck was holding.

Finishing his tour two months later, Trevor returns to the UK and serves as an instructor on No. 14 OTU before being requested by a Pilot Officer Basil Acott to join his crew at a Heavy Conversion Unit. Joining No. 61 Squadron at RAF Coningsby in early 1944, TB begins his second tour as a Lancaster rear gunner.

The following chapters covering this second tour are an absolute blur of ops. The writing is suddenly more business-like, reflecting Trevor’s vast experience and commitment to his job, but still takes the time to report on squadron life away from ops and the not-so-fortunate adventures of some of Bowyer’s contemporaries. While the ops tend to blend into each other, the detail of each is certainly not lacking and Trevor’s impressions and memories of each are quite clear. The routine and repetition of ops is evident but before long, after completing 59 ops over two tours in two theatres of war, Trevor finds himself sitting back at his parents’ kitchen table. He spends the rest of the war, what’s left of it, instructing and completing courses ... with a DFC ribbon sewed to his tunic.

Happily, Trevor’s life was a good one after the war. Married in 1946 and beginning to raise a family shortly after, he retired from the post office in the 1970s and was awarded the Imperial Service Medal for his work. Having lived through what he did and being privy to so much detail of his RAF career, it is particularly gratifying to read the chapter devoted to his post-war life.

How much of the RAF detail is actually his own thoughts as opposed to the author’s artistic licence is hard to tell and, I admit, I have not asked Kenneth this question. The writing is very descriptive and the imagery it invokes in the reader is particularly strong. I would argue the author’s greatest challenge was to not make the book seem like a dry memoir as could have so easily happened. Indeed, I was particularly taken by some of the metaphors used during Trevor’s time on ops. These are used powerfully and with great effect and indicate an author very much in tune with his subject. Perhaps the example that had me gasping with sudden realisation was, when referring to a Wimpey at night over the desert, this:

“The ground beneath us drifted by like a pale silver cloth slipping slowly from the table over which it had been laid.”

The author’s style, however, takes a little getting used to. As already mentioned he does go off on tangents. The term “tangential contextualisations” comes to mind (I think I just broke the grammar checker). Whether such a thing exists, I don’t know, but this is exactly what these ‘breaks from regular programming’ are. Be it discussing the history of the British railways, giving a quick overview of the history of the Army unit a colleague’s father served in or detailing the adventures of those whose paths cross with Trevor (or, in some cases, the author in the course of his research), these tangents appear regularly throughout the book. At first I couldn’t quite understand the relevance of discussing, for example, the action at Rorke’s Drift or the history of a town Trevor had just been posted to. Such things seemed to pop up as Trevor’s story was gaining momentum. Many of the tangents cover familiar wartime territory but it occurred to me that what was being discussed in detail was in fact Trevor’s world. To this extent the book would be particularly valuable for those not familiar with the time and world he occupied. For the ‘seasoned’ reader it gives the ability to step back from Trevor’s life briefly and see it as part of the big picture.

While some of these ‘intermissions’ can be quite distracting they are, for the most part, relevant to the storyline. Never is this more evident during Trevor’s ‘rest’ after his second tour. The tangents keep coming and, importantly, are a very good tool to remind the reader that even though Trevor’s war was over, it was very much an ongoing thing for many thousands of men just like him. In a way, ADAD is as much a tribute to the men featured in these vignettes as it is the story of a young man whose life of service started before the war and, fortunately, extended well beyond the end of it. This is an enjoyable, educational and fascinating read that will have you looking for more of the author’s writing.

ADAD, at just less than 340 pages, is surprisingly heavy for its size. The reason for this is the heavier, glossy paper stock used throughout which enables photos to be reproduced well in among the main text. There is a considerable section at the rear of the book which includes 40 images ranging from Trevor and his family to photos of the author meeting some of those who feature in earlier pages. I have not done a count of all of the photos in the book but would argue there are more than 100 (with 31 in the first 100 pages). All add to the text very well and are well-placed to support said text.

With the very colourful and original cover, this is affordable quality. It would be hard to buy a book of this calibre and breadth for a better price. ADAD is available direct from Laundry Cottage Books, the author’s publishing house ... literally!

The copy reviewed was printed in 2009 and bought (signed) direct from Laundry Cottage. ISBN 978-0-9550601-3-7

Vale Ralph Barker

2011-05-29T12:59:00.004+10:00

It was with considerable sadness that I discovered the passing of this well-known author yesterday. He died on May 16 but it has taken more than 10 days for me to realise. I hope this has not been the case for everyone else.

A wartime Wireless Operator/Air Gunner on Beauforts (and others?), he is best known for his prolific writing on, primarily, RAF and RFC wartime flying. Before leaving the RAF in 1961 to write full-time, Barker already had several books to his credit including the perennial Down In The Drink and The Ship-Busters (both of which have recently had new editions released). His aviation books of the 1960s and '70s continue to be well-regarded and, in the case of The Hurricats for example, remain authoritative works on particularly rare and 'difficult' subjects.

As discussed in The Ship-Busters review earlier, Barker's ability to put a face to the many names featured in his books paralleled that of a top fiction writer and made the men - and women - featured leap off the page. Rather than simply recounting the actions the aircrew made famous, the books provide windows into the lives of those who risked all or were in peril.

With Ralph Barker's passing we of course lose another veteran. Another living link to a past that still resonates today. How long it stays that way depends on what later generations do to commemorate World War 2. With books such as Barker's, that job is made easier for, as long as people continue to read his work, the stories of the men and women he wrote about will remain alive.

Aircrew Book Review's second anniversary competition

2011-05-26T11:23:00.008+10:00

As you will have read below in the second anniversary post, I have invited readers to send in a 150-word review of a book not already reviewed on ABR (those advertised already are fair game). All I need is the review and a copy of the cover.

The author of the review I pick as my favourite will receive a gift from the Temora Aviation Museum.

This is really just a reminder as I have decided to announce the winner once ABR ticks over the 10,000 visitor mark ... who knows when this could happen!

While we're talking about writing reviews, I am planning to complete at least the next two (Another Dawn Another Dusk and Zero Hour In Broome) over the weekend. They'll be put up several days apart so each can bask in its own glory for a bit!

Ship-Busters - Ralph Barker

2011-05-09T17:05:00.008+10:00

Research is always a good thing. It is particularly useful when publishers re-release books that have been out of print for a while. A common practice is to rename said books which, at first glance, gets readily excitable readers such as myself in a bit of a lather. A quick bit of research, though, will confirm whether it is a simple reprint (and therefore available second-hand and cheaper) or, as is sometimes the case, a new edition with extra information and/or illustrations. In a similar vein, I rarely chase old books published before the 1980s. Those written during the war were subject to censor review and those written ‘immediately’ post-war have not had the benefit of a wide variety of source information (although the memories were fresher). On top of that, they can be delicate and awfully scary to handle! There are, however, exceptions born out of an interest for a particular author, pilot, aircraft or operation - hence the purchase of a cheap and care-worn 1959 edition of Ralph Barker’s The Ship-Busters several years ago off Ebay. Despite my love for all things twin-engined that fly very low, this book remains unread. A holiday late last year happily provided an alternative when I found a 2010 paperback by Stackpole Books. This was my chance to finally read one of the classics by one of the more prolific, and experienced, post-war authors.

The Beaufort torpedo crews of the RAF are particularly well-served when it comes to books honouring their service. I find it fascinating that the three best-known authors on the subject, all former Beaufort crew, were very active writers after the war. Wing Commander Patrick Gibbs, author of the sublime Not Peace But A Sword and Torpedo Leader, went on to write theatre reviews while both Roy Conyers Nesbit (Torpedo Airmen, Armed Rovers etc) and Ralph Barker have been writing since the end of the war and have many books to their credit. For such a relatively small population of aircrew, it is remarkable to have such a literary contribution.

The preamble featured in the Stackpole edition (the edition being reviewed) is a clever tool that engages the reader effectively. If the reader is not aware of the work of the Beaufort torpedo men, the preamble provides the perfect introduction. It focuses on a ‘typical’ Beaufort crew - Australian pilot, Kiwi navigator and two English W/AGs - and introduces the author’s marvellous narrative style. Having known many of the men featured, the author is well-placed to write as he does although, throughout the book, the characters introduced in detail are almost always good ‘specimens’. At first I thought this a bit clichéd and perhaps the ‘age’ of the writing was showing through but then if I was to describe these brave men in light of their achievements, they would be detailed similarly ... and, after all, with a photo section vastly superior to that of the 1959 edition, the descriptions are actually spot on.

With a sobering end to the preamble and a prologue that sets up the reader for the pages ahead, the author launches into the early Beaufort operations of the war. The early successes are tempered by the obvious vulnerability of the crews in broad daylight and, despite the Beaufort’s strong construction, against the withering defensive fire of the ships targeted. For those familiar with early Beaufort operations, you will know this led to the ‘Armed Rover’ – sending out small numbers of aircraft, often just two, to operate over the North Sea, Dutch coast etc at low level with cloud cover within easy reach should there be a need to disappear. 22 Squadron, flying out of North Coates, were the pioneers of this tactic and 'old friends' such as ‘Fanny’ Francis, Dick Beauman, Norman Hearn-Phillips and Patrick Gibbs feature heavily. Here, and the strength of these remarkable characters plays a big part, the author helps the reader develop an affinity with these men. This is done very efficiently and the clarity with which the writing conveys the danger these men faced is palpable. Indeed, the narrative style mentioned earlier is the perfect way to present this story. It flows from operation to operation, seamlessly introducing new crews or offering up an alternate viewpoint from a crew the reader has already ‘met’. Considering when the book was originally written, the writing stands up well in these modern times and, in fact, puts recent efforts to shame. Clearly, this, and the enduring fascination with what these men did, is why this book has returned to the market.

The North Sea Rovers were only a part of the Beaufort story however. The squadrons were always on hand to tackle the German capital ships should the opportunity arise. The solo, somewhat accidental but definitely determined, attack by Kenneth Campbell and his crew on the battlecruiser Gneisenau anchored in Brest harbour is the epitome of what these Beaufort men were all about. The author builds the drama and action extraordinarily well to the point the reader is astonished to imagine a Beaufort doing the attack alone. The awarding of the VC to Campbell barely scratches the surface of just how brave he and his crew were.

While SB is really a story about the Beaufort squadrons, there are cameos from the other torpedo bombers used extensively by the RAF and Commonwealth crews throughout the war. Swordfish, Wellingtons and Beaufighters all feature and make good comparisons to the Beaufort being antiquated, modified and from the same stable respectively. "Cameo" is too light a word for the Swordfish as its well-known role in the Channel Dash is recounted with detail, accuracy and feeling. Again the bravery and determination of the crews makes one admire them to the hilt and the overall coverage of the Dash itself, including the part played by Beauforts, is very well done.

Without besmirching the efforts and sacrifices in Northern Europe, it was the anti-shipping role in the Mediterranean that truly defined the Beaufort. The tactics and experience developed the hard way on the edges of Europe and her shipping lanes came to the fore in the warmer climes of the Med. For Rommel, Egypt and the Suez Canal would be his if seaborne supplies from Italy and Greece arrived intact. Here was the ideal opportunity for the Beauforts. While always part of a bigger picture, they were the only means available that could strike over long distances at short notice. Early operations from Egypt were hampered by a lack of aircraft but there was no shortage of crews with the likes of Pat Gibbs twiddling his thumbs behind a desk waiting for a squadron posting. He was, however, able to study the tactical situation and realised there was one place perfectly located to enable the Beauforts to disrupt the relatively unchallenged convoys – Malta.

The Albacores and Wellingtons (some modified to carry two torpedoes and therefore known as ‘Fishingtons’) had been operating at night with success but the ‘focussing’ of a Beaufort force on Malta promised around-the-clock strikes on whatever convoy was in range. The story of the Malta Beaufort strikes is well-known and this is the book that started it all. Roughly a third of the pages in the 2010 edition are devoted to operations in the Mediterranean and the ‘strike wing’ style of attack is developed and refined. While the use of Beaufighters as flak-suppression was not an original idea for the Malta strikes – I seem to recall this tactic first being used by units flying out of the UK – it was used extensively in the Med for the first time and was a portent of things to come for the likes of the Banff and Leuchars strike wings operating over the North Sea later in the war.

The extreme success of the Beaufort strikes was not, of course, without its cost and the crews paid dearly despite the Beaufighters going in first. The accounts of entire formation elements (e.g. a ‘vic’ of three aircraft) being lost within seconds are particularly sobering. The flak was indiscriminate with vastly experienced crews sharing the same fate as those new to strike ops.

While their working life was carried out with extreme risk, there was little let up for the crews when off ops on Malta. The island had convoy problems of her own with fuel supplies often measured in days. That she was able to strike back so effectively was a saving grace for the Maltese people and the thousands of service personnel living on the archipelago.

As the Mediterranean Beauforts were stopping Rommel in his tracks, new strike wings were forming in the UK. Based around the Beaufighter (and the Mosquito later on) these wings really were the culmination of years of hard-won experience in a number of theatres. Their initial operations revealed a need for more training but with a reliable supply of quality aircraft and crews, this shortcoming was quickly overcome. Add a new weapon into the game – the rocket projectile – and the torpedo was no longer the only game in town when it came to sinking ships. It was still an asset when delivered by ‘Torbeaus’ but the ability of the RP to be carried with little effect on performance –and its ‘punch’ – meant the air-dropped/aimed torpedo’s days were numbered. This is well conveyed in the last chapter of SB where the combined forces of the North Coates and Langham Wings are unleashed on a convoy off the Dutch coast in mid-June 1944. While far from being the final strike operation of the war (remember this is a book about torpedo crews), this chapter is the perfect book-end in that its massed use of aircraft is the complete polar opposite to the one crew featured in the new preamble.

As I've mentioned above the tactics and operations are exceptionally well-told, almost poetically so, but the real strength of this book is the men themselves. The little character nuances and small personal details make the crews more than just anecdotal inclusions that are occasionally, sometime necessarily, included in this style of book. Indeed, this is a look at their lives as they, not the aircraft, were the ship-busters. In this sense, I am very much looking forward to comparing SB to the recent A Separate Little War by Andrew Bird. Not having read this book, but having it in my collection, it will be interesting to compare the writing styles, the use of modern research tools and the treatment of information gleaned from interviewees looking back over 60+ years as opposed to 10. Beyond being a great read that ranges through the whole gamut of emotions, perhaps this is where the true value of SB lies – it is as close to a published eye-witness account as we’re ever going to see. In this respect, as the numbers of Beaufort torpedo men rapidly dwindle, SB (and other books like it) will take on a whole new importance.

Stackpole puts together a nice paperback and in doing so provides an affordable read. Whether this is a carbon copy of the recent Grub Street release, I do not know, but I suspect it is. The 38 photos are clearly reproduced on the same paper stock as the text and provide a superb range of images of aircraft, targets, crews and individual portraits. It is highly likely the pricier Grub Street hardback would have printed the photo section on a higher quality paper. The portraits in particular are of great use when putting a face to a name and description in the text.

I bought my copy of SB in a Barnes & Noble store. It is, of course, available online at B&N, Amazon and other such sites. The RRP printed on the back cover is US$18.95 but I am sure I paid less than that. Either way, great value for money ... and you can always go for the vintage edition.

Busy, busy

2011-05-05T14:51:00.003+10:00

Hi everyone

Just a quick post to say sorry for the lack of published reviews of late. I have been busy at work and at home and up until a fortnight ago, things were a little stressful. Best antidote is reading of course but you also need time and even when I had that I wasn't in the mood!

The next review will be finished and up over the weekend (hopefully followed quickly by the next one as I am way behind which is not fair on the authors who have requested the reviews) and please remember the 2nd anniversary 'quick review' competition is still open as per the post below. Submissions have been forthcoming (thank you) but, if you're like me, you may not have had time to write anything.

As always, feel free to post comments or send me an email.

Watch this space.

All the best

Andy Wright

Aircrew Book Review's second anniversary

2011-04-13T16:14:00.017+10:00

It occurred to me a couple of months ago that ABR's second anniversary was rapidly approaching and, given the first one just whizzed past without me realising, I thought I might try to mark it with some sort of salubrious event. More of that later.

Two years ago, April 17, 2009 to be exact, I had been out of work for two months and, naturally, had no idea it would be another 10 months and a move interstate before I found employment again. This idea for a website dedicated to spreading the word about Commonwealth aircrew books - old and new - had been bouncing around in my head for a couple of weeks and I needed a bit of a creative outlet beyond re-writing my resume for each new job application. With the basics of Blogger somewhat mastered (still debatable) due to an existing website, I dove into ABR and started posting the longer versions of reviews I had done for Steve Darlow's Fighting High website. I also dug out the reviews posted on Amazon. In no time ABR was populated with the likes of Owen Zupp's Down To Earth, Martin Bowman's Mosquito: Menacing The Reich and Mark Lax's Alamein To The Alps to name a few. For those of you who have read the reviews from this time, you'll notice they're a lot shorter (thankfully) than what I write today (although looking at them now, I didn't realise they were that short!. This is something I am addressing with the reviews I write this year. Tightening up my writing is the goal besides wading through a decent pile of books and getting their reviews online faster.

One thing that won't change, and I hope is an obvious theme in those first reviews through to the very latest one, is the honesty and passion. If a book has its shortcomings, I will tell you. However, as I have said before, there are no terrible books in this genre ... just a few 'average' ones that wouldn't take much to be better! After all, I applaud the effort and time put into producing a book. It is something I have not done so I respect those with the dedication to see the project through.

What for the future? Well, more reviews of course and, hopefully, bringing you details of new books as they approach publication. I'm also going to go back to basics somewhat by producing an ABR glossary (not everyone who comes here knows the aircrew 'story' backwards) and a how-to-navigate-ABR post. This latter idea is again more directed at the visitor who stumbles into ABR as I realise it's not obvious just what is accessible on the website.

So, here's to the years ahead. Keep the comments and recommendations coming and if you hear of a new book that ABR can help promote, you know where to get me.

Now, the second anniversary challenge. Send me an email with a cover photo of your favourite Commonwealth aircrew book and a mini-review of 150 words or less. I'll pick the winner (no deadline as yet so bang away) and then send you something from the Temora Aviation Museum giftshop!

Many thanks for your support in helping Aircrew Book Review spread the word.

Andy

aircrewbooksATiinet.net.au

The RAAF Hudson Story, Book Two - IT'S HERE!

2011-03-29T14:35:00.021+11:00

That's right, Hudson fans, David Vincent has finally received the shipment of newly printed books after a few issues encountered on the docks (within sight of the finish line!).

Some of you will have already had a rather large package arrive in the mail and I know you now realise the wait was worth it. The cover photo I posted here, while attractive, simply does not do this book justice. To see it in the flesh, as it were, is to marvel at an epic piece of work that has been put together with immense care, attention and devotion. It is a book that all others should be measured against.

Still haven't placed your order with David? Email djvincentATchariot.net.au

You can also visit his new website - Vincent Aviation Publications. Tell him ABR sent you!

Lifting The Silence - Sydney Percival Smith

2011-02-27T14:44:00.008+11:00

This year continues to reveal exciting books published over the past few months dedicated to the experiences of Commonwealth aircrew during the Second World War. Each has its own charm and, without exception, the quality of production is high.

One book that meets all of these criteria is Lifting The Silence by Canadians Sydney Percival Smith and his son, David. In his own words "an everyman named Smith", the author was a Wellington pilot with 115 Squadron based at East Wretham in Norfolk. He had trained on Hampdens at OTU and even flown two operations before being posted to 115. In early December 1942 (twelve ops later), on the way to Turin on the other side of the Alps, over France in a Wimpey struggling for height, the author and his crew were shot down. Parachuting safely, Sydney was helped by sympathetic civilians who set him on a complicated and harrowing journey via the famed Comete Line (the Belgian Resistance network that rescued more than 750 Allied servicemen and got them out of Occupied Europe).

The title alludes to Sydney's - and many veterans' - reluctance to talk about their wartime experiences. Indeed, this book may not have been written had it not been for David Smith finding a post-war letter from one of his father's resistance saviours. This led to Sydney returning to the places of his rescue and meeting again, some six decades later, the people to whom he owed his life.

An attractive and deceptively slim-looking book (250+ pages), LTS will be read and reviewed later this year as it moves up the list/pile. The various 'flick-throughs' I've conducted already reveal a well-written, descriptive story and what appears to be a journey of discovery for both father and son alike. My gut-feeling is this will compare favourably to Stephen Harris' enlightening Under A Bomber's Moon.

LTS is available from the publisher - Dundurn Press - Lifting The Silence - and, of course, Amazon (I note Amazon Canada, UK and USA are offering this book at a good discount).

Wine, Women and Song - now available

2011-02-08T21:35:00.006+11:00

Good news. Hamish Brown's tribute to his father, Spitfire pilot Doug Brown, was released to booksellers yesterday. Now is the time to check your favourite store for this great looking, well-produced book. If the store doesn't stock it, ask why not!

For more information about the book, have a look at the earlier ABR post here or contact Hamish on hamishAThml.co.nz

From Dogfight To Diplomacy - Donald MacDonnell

2011-01-26T11:47:00.008+11:00

It’s not often I read two books in a row that, at least on the surface, cover the same subject. Besides keeping the reviews on ABR fresh, there’s so many fascinating stories from every day of the war that ... well, what I’m saying is I flit around a great many subjects. Jack of all trades, master of none to some extent. So it was with a little reluctance (definitely not the right word) that I got stuck into From Dogfight To Diplomacy. It was my own fault for getting into this situation (and I’m making it sound so much worse than it really was) as, after putting Chris Ward’s 6 Group Bomber Command to rest, I felt I needed to read something I knew to be brilliant and, if anything, uplifting. That’s how I ended up reading First Light which, of course, concentrates on the author’s experiences during the Battle of Britain. With Donald MacDonnell becoming an ace during Fighter Command’s defence of Great Britain, I knew I was in for more of the same. However, it is the title of his book that suggests the reader will discover more about the author than his involvement in the Battle ... so much more. Fighter ace, commanding officer, lover, husband, father, POW, RAF Cranwell staff and air attaché to the British Embassy in Moscow during the Cold War. So much more.

While the author alludes to his childhood at various stages throughout the book, we first meet him leaving for RAF Cranwell in 1932 – budding pilot and destined to eventually become the 22nd Chief of Glengarry (a Scottish clan). His writing is comfortable, relaxed and expressive from the start and combines with the interesting anecdotes to make the first sitting with this book an enjoyable and enlightening session. This relaxed approach is deceptive though as within barely 35 pages, DM has graduated from RAF Cranwell as a Pilot Officer with an above-average rating, joined 54 Squadron and flown its Bristol Bulldog fighters and been seconded to the Fleet Air Arm in the Mediterranean (via an amusing episode of cross-dressing to fool an Italian destroyer!). While the seven years before the war are covered in roughly 10 per cent of the book’s pages, do not for one moment think there is little detail. If anything it is a detailed snapshot of the pre-war, biplane-flying RAF – an RAF whose leaders thought they should corner the market in this flying and fighting lark even if it meant sending some of its pilots to sea (sound familiar with today’s RAF and FAA?).

MacDonnell’s stay in the Mediterranean eventually leads to flying Hawker Nimrods from HMS Courageous and HMS Glorious – the latter being based in Malta which the author fell in love with. Returning home, he ends up at Gosport in charge of the navy’s land-based ‘training’ catapult and reflects that for a 24-year-old Flight Lieutenant it was his “pride and joy”. Late 1938 and early 1939 sees DM complete a ‘sobering’ flying instructor’s course and further flying appointments before promotion to Squadron Leader and a desk job in London which he begins in August 1939.

London was evidently an interesting place during those first uncertain months of the war. While the author doesn’t directly talk about this aspect of his life in the city, his experiences with Diana, soon to be his first wife, convey the feeling of incredulity that the country was again on the brink. The desk job ends early in the second half of 1940 after much lobbying by our hero to ensure his posting to a fighter squadron. A posting to No. 64 Squadron and its Spitfires is interrupted before it begins as DM is selected to be CO of a new squadron of twin-engined fighters – Whirlwinds – so converts to the Blenheim. This, in turn, falls through due to a lack of night-flying experience (it is the first I have heard of the Whirlwind being employed as a night fighter and I still find it odd) and leads to the eventual posting to 64 Squadron.

While not immediately CO of the squadron, DM soon took over from his predecessor who, apparently, was finding the job too much for him. He inherited a disjointed squadron and had very little time to pull it together into a cohesive fighting team. He does, of course, and the following four chapters are as much a discussion about how to run a squadron of varying personalities as it is a diary of the author’s victories and close-shaves during the Battle – both of which he had plenty. Damaged on several occasions and shot down once, the author eventually leads the squadron to 12 Group for a ‘rest’ and it is during this time he marries Diana, continues their happy life together and, on a sweep into France, is shot down into the Channel. His description of the flight and subsequent rescue by German sailors is told with a generous dose of disbelief at actually surviving the ordeal.

I am in no way an expert on the POW experience in Europe despite having read numerous accounts from a variety of servicemen. MacDonnell’s tenure as a prisoner is perhaps the longest – in terms of years – I can remember reading and it is also one of the more detailed and moving. It is a brilliant insight into the life of a POW as told by a studious observer who benefits from having a few years on many of his fellow prisoners. Moving from Dulag Luft I to Stalag Luft III, the author, as a member of the Escape Committee, ‘oversaw’ the organisation and ultimate success of the famous Wooden Horse escape. Now a father, his responsibilities towards his family take a disturbing turn in 1943 when Diana, who had moved to Ireland with their son, suffered a “slight nervous breakdown”. The photos included in her letters, and the letters themselves, revealed a woman who was far from well. Hundreds of miles away there was little the author could do. Upon his return to the UK after war’s end, and reunited with Diana, he realises his world had come to an end.

Before this return, though, he endures another two winters as a POW (one of which was spent marching west away from the advancing Russians) before being liberated by the Red Army (who replace the Germans in the guard-towers) and repatriated by the Americans. So it was in very poor condition and a fear of the unknown that he returned to the UK to finally meet his son and discover what was left of his Diana. Now a Wing Commander and “back in the RAF proper”, MacDonnell never forgets his responsibilities to his family and works himself hard. During Diana’s lucid times, they managed to have two more children but the writing was clearly on the wall. Diana was admitted into a nursing home and the author settled his young family in a variety of cottages whose location was dependant on his postings.

While not immediately comfortable in post-war Britain, the author gets on with what he knows best (and, therefore, the best way to support his family) and becomes the Chief Flying Instructor at RAF Cranwell in 1949. His skill in command is not diminished and his ability to bring out the best in his colleagues and pupils alike is remarkable. In late 1950, though, after a bout of ill health he is selected to join a Russian-speaking course and sets off on a path that takes him away from his family, his country and any semblance of normality that had developed post-war.

A crash-course at Cambridge is followed by a six-month, eye-opening stay with a Russian family in Paris. With the whole point of this study being an appointment to the British Embassy in Russia in 1956, the following three and half years are filled with a variety of staff appointments. During this time, one his main priorities was to settle his family with a permanent carer. This was done successfully and his family blossoms under the stern and somewhat eccentric eye of one of the most intriguing characters in the book.

I really can’t provide a synopsis of the author’s stay in Russia other than to say it contains the detail, candour and humour maintained throughout the book. So much happens in his two year appointment, some of it quite harrowing, but the underlying theme is one of discovery and frustration. The author was actually born in Russia – his father was a diplomat – so he generally relates well to the people he encounters and earns respect in return. As ever, he paints colourful and seemingly accurate pictures of his colleagues and ‘adversaries’ (again, something that is maintained from page one). His job as air attaché – effectively the RAF’s official spy in Russia – is frustrated by a reluctance to forcefully gather intelligence but his diplomacy and quasi-statesmanship is where his real value and skill shine through.

The book ends with a personal footnote from the author regarding his long but “relatively undistinguished career” (!) and bowing to requests from Clan members and family to write his memoirs. The final word, however, is left to his second wife who gives a brief summary of DM’s life prior to his death in 1999 at the age of 85. Elected Chairman of the Battle of Britain Fighter Association in 1960 – a post he would hold for 18 years - MacDonnell retired from the RAF in 1964 but continued to devote his life to the service of others.

I’ve struggled in this review to not get bogged down in the detail of this book and, to some extent, can’t quite decide what this book is. It is not a fighter pilot’s book nor is it a wartime memoir but, in the same breath, it is both. It’s a study of the pre-war RAF, the life of a POW, a man struggling to be a single parent in post-war Britain and a very personal look at the Cold War from behind the Iron Curtain. This is a book that treats the personal life of the author with as much importance as his wartime service. Indeed, there are few books that give as much space to the post-war period as they do to the war years.

With this much in a book of roughly 350 pages you’d expect a few things to be glossed over and, writing many years after the events, this is inevitable but there is no indication of backing away from or hiding the more uncomfortable or upsetting aspects of the author’s life. At times he becomes almost cold (and definitely a little cynical) towards his various liaisons but, as he openly admits, he yearned for a return to the married life he once had. The passage of time is also occasionally hard to follow especially at the beginning – where you’re scrambling to keep up – and from the start of the Russian ‘training’ when there is little to suggest the time spent at each staff posting. Perhaps this is an indication that the author was ‘marking time’ prior to his posting to Moscow?

I’ll freely admit this is not a book I would have jumped on upon its release – it would have been added to the list to keep an eye out for – but I am certainly glad to have had the opportunity to read it. The writing settles around you from the start like a warm coat on a cold day and the chapters can be read as stand-alone short stories if you don’t have the time for a long read. Coupled with more than 45 photos produced in a separate, ‘glossy’ section (about the only error I made note of in the book is the identification of a Swordfish taking off from HMS Glorious as a Nimrod), the result is perhaps the most personal look at an RAF officer’s life that has been published to date. “Surprising” is the best word for it.

The copy reviewed is a large paperback published by Pen & Sword. Upon removing it from the envelope, my first reaction was one that fellow book-lovers know all too well – wow – as this is a great-looking book and the weight feels ‘right’ in the hand.

The text layout is the same format I did not like in 6 Group Bomber Command but with FDTD it works very well and this is because of the chapter layout and different style of writing – proof that it is applicable under the right circumstances!

Review copy published in 2009 by Pen & Sword Aviation. ISBN 978-184884-198-7

Wine, Women and Song - Hamish Brown

2011-01-23T21:08:00.018+11:00

This year is off to a good start in terms of interesting and quality titles. Already we have news of David Vincent's The RAAF Hudson Story - Book Two and the new edition of Pathfinder Cranswick as detailed below. Now we can add Hamish Brown's tribute to his father in the form of Wine, Women and Song - A Spitfire Pilot's Story.

Doug Brown became, via training in New Zealand and Canada, a Spitfire pilot with No. 485 Squadron and flew over the Normandy beaches during the invasion of mainland Europe. He later joined, and led, No. 130 (Punjab) Squadron. His experiences and more are related in the book through his wartime letters to his family at home in New Zealand. More than 200 images, and passages that add further detail to the letters, complete a book of almost 400 pages.

While I have not seen this book in the flesh, the author has been kind enough to provide several extracts to give an idea of the style and content of his work. It reads well, the photos are re-produced to a high standard and the appendices, what little I have seen of them, appear useful and loaded with the type of information that will set you off on tangents! I have also noted some of the images of equipment comparing favourably to the Lewis/Cowper work Chasing Shadows which I have yet to see surpassed.

Hamish has said the books are not expected from the printer until the end of the month and WWS will be officially launched in February. He is currently working to have the book available in an NZ chain bookstore so overseas readers are asked to drop Hamish a line - hamishAThml.co.nz

To paraphrase an old flying adage, if it looks right, it'll read right.

Wine, Women and Song - A Spitfire Pilot's Story is now available. Click here for further details - WWS now available

Pathfinder Cranswick - Michael Cumming

2011-01-16T21:49:00.015+11:00

This is something new for ABR - a digital edition of a book. I'll be the first to admit I very much prefer a hard copy as it adds to the enjoyment of the experience but, particularly in this case, I am very excited at the prospect of an online book.

Squadron Leader Alec Panton Cranswick DSO DFC was shot down on what his log book recorded as his 107th op. A slight man who spent some of his wartime service suffering the effects of malaria, Cranswick flew his first tour with 214 Squadron in 1940. Not wanting to be rested, he volunteered to head to the Middle East. This was successful as he 'book-ended' a role as a ferry pilot in West Africa with a significant number of ops on Wellingtons. He returned to the UK in early 1942 but could not fly due to ill health. It was not until the end of the year that he converted to Halifaxes prior to a short stay with 419 Squadron (a Canadian 6 Group unit). By October 1943, he had been a Pathfinder with 35 Squadron for six months and was due another rest. Taking this reluctantly, his goal to return to operations was achieved in April 1944 when he returned to the PFF squadron. He was killed three months later in early July.

To anyone interested in the remarkable achievements of the aircrew who flew in WW2 - indeed, to anyone fascinated by the indomitable human spirit - the life of this man is one that astounds. I first learned of him when I read Chris Ward's 6 Group Bomber Command (one of the biographical 'snippets' I mention in the review of that book). Subsequent research revealed a book written by a journalist and first published as a hardback in 1962. A condensed second edition appeared in 1963. It was not until 2006 that a revised and updated paperback was released and remained in print until 2009.

Based on the above, you'd think it would be relatively easy and affordable to obtain a copy, wouldn't you? In all of my searches I have only ever been able to turn up copies of the 1960s editions with the first hardback invariably being listed for $100 or more. Pathfinder Cranswick became something of a holy grail for me.

So, imagine my utter glee when it was announced a digital version of the latest print edition would be available through Amazon in the UK and US. I have since been in contact with the author, Michael Cumming, who stumbled upon Cranswick's achievements, or at least a hint of them, when reading Don Bennett's autobiography Pathfinder for a newspaper review. He is delighted to have the book available again and added that a number of the illustrations, through the joys of the digital medium, are now reproduced in colour for the first time. Incidentally, Bennett, in the foreword to PC wrote 'to look back at a boy-man so simply courageous and so selfless is an inspiration both rare and elevating'. Great words from a great leader.

This latest edition is a truly exciting development for what was a previously unobtainable - more or less - and desirable title.

As mentioned above, the book is available through Amazon on their 'Kindle' system. This does not mean you have to have one of those digital 'book readers' as you can download the software to read the book on your PC or laptop (which is what I will be doing). The ease and speed at which this new edition was produced was advantageous for the author who wants to keep the memory of Cranswick's acheievements fresh for today's readers. Considering the exhorbitant costs of self-publishing, this digital publishing game is certainly an enticing option. If embracing (even temporarily!) this 'new' technology means I finally get to experience Cranswick's remarkable story (and Cumming's classic biography) then bring it on. If you're similarly enamored, go for it.

***Sept 23, 2011 - Please note the Kindle edition of Pathfinder Cranswick is no longer available pending the March 2012 release of the 50th anniversary edition (with new material and photographs) by Fighting High Publishing. As exciting and accessible as the Kindle book was, the new print edition promises to bring this absolute classic of Bomber Command literature to a whole new audience (and an existing audience that couldn't afford the older print editions!) and generation. The man who attended the same school as Sir Douglas Bader and Guy Gibson VC deserves to be as equally well remembered.

Pathfinder Cranswick - Fighting High Publishing

The RAAF Hudson Story, Book Two - not long now

2010-12-30T20:48:00.010+11:00

I know I've been pushing this barrow a fair bit but when something of this magnitude is due to be published it is natural to get excited. Of course, such a large project can be 90% done and still have a long way to go and the deadlines of the self-publisher simply get eaten up. But, why rush something like this? It, with Book One, is set to be the reference work for the Hudson in Australian service (both military and civilian).

The latest news, as of a couple of weeks ago, is that the advance copy has been approved by David's well-known designer, Mark Nelson, and, as a result, the printers are good to go. David, consequently, is now expecting to receive the shipment of crisp, new, Hudson-loaded books by the end of January.

The pre-publication offer is still available. Simply email David at djvincentATchariot.net.au

Make room on your shelf!

First Light - Geoffrey Wellum

2010-12-12T18:58:00.008+11:00

First Light. Geoffrey Wellum. There are two types of people with regard to this book: those who have read it and those who are going to. Happily, I am now in the former group but have no excuse as to why it took me so long to read this widely-acclaimed title. I didn’t realise what I’d been missing. It is a book that transcends the Battle of Britain. Indeed, it transcends wartime aviation. First Light is the ‘poster boy’ of the genre and is the memoir of the modern day that has impacted the general public in a way I wish all aircrew books could. What is written above (and below) is nothing new. Really, this review could be just six words: First Light. Geoffrey Wellum. Read it.

It would be remiss of me to leave it at that as there is so much to talk about with this book. At 17, the author applies to join the RAF and is successful – the application and approval process through his school and the selection board is supported by a delightful dialogue – but completes another term at school before ab initio training, and his RAF career, begins in earnest in late July 1939. Far from a natural pilot, he enjoys the flying but approaches it with some trepidation which eventually turns into serious self-doubt. A naturally self-deprecating type, the author’s general under-estimation of his abilities is a recurring theme throughout the book and an indication that, although incredibly young, he doesn’t take anything for granted. It is only through instructors who “know the flying game from A to Z”, and a determination that will become familiar to the reader, that he solos ... two days before the outbreak of war.

There is no real mention of the war up until the time the author earns his wings. If anything, he was lucky to learn to fly when he did as the curriculum had yet to be condensed by the desperate need for pilots. On Harvards at Little Rissington, he progresses well before getting a little too comfortable and receiving a rocket from the Chief Ground Instructor about the poor nature of his progress. He re-invigorates his flying and studies and is soon back on track but then loses a close friend in a flying accident. The reality of the job hits home but the flying continues apace and not without several hiccups on the way. Again good, highly-respected instructors and the Wellum determination get him through.

While this part of the review really focuses on the events of the book, a timeline as it were, it is the way they are related that makes FL such a vivid read. The author, in the introduction, says he just sat down and the words came automatically. This is clearly evident – the writing is more like a stream of consciousness captured at the point it forms in the mind. This is where the true strength of the book lies. The author is remarkably able to reproduce his innermost thoughts – his fears, his doubts and his worries are all countered by youthful exuberance and a genuine love of flying. His descriptions of his various training flights cannot be beaten. He meets every challenge with a mixture of awe, humility and a determination that comes from deep within and the reader is privy to all of it.

A good Wings test and with the end of his training in sight, the urgency of war finally catches up and the author is posted to No. 92 Squadron ... at the age of 18 years and nine months! He settles in happily enough – ever aware of his lack of experience – and finally flies a Spitfire (yet another delightful experience to read). All does not progress perfectly though as he bends a Spitfire on night flying circuits and is grounded for more than a week as punishment. If anything, this is the turning point in his flying. It was almost like he had to get the elephant in the room – fear of pranging a valuable aircraft and writing himself off – out of the way. Assisted by his Flight Commander, the legendary Brian Kingcombe, he works out what went wrong and, rather ironically, once he returns to night-flying, is vectored onto ‘bandits’ over Bristol. He doesn’t see anything but his first operational flight proves to be somewhat of a confidence boost.

The squadron soon moves to a rather battered Biggin Hill. The next flight described in the text is a squadron scramble to intercept incoming bombers. Here, we seem to catch the author already several weeks into the endless cycle of pre-dawn readiness, frayed nerves, squadron scrambles and, of course, combat. He has recently learned of the death of his closest friend and spends several pages dealing with his loss. There is a strong sense of getting on with business and the interception of the bombers is as frenetic as it is successful for the author although he does manage to run out of ammunition and get hit by fire from an Me 109. No sooner is he back on the ground and debriefed is he assigned another aircraft and off again on a convoy patrol.

This day spills over into a chapter titled Mars, God Of War. It is a chapter of 15 pages but feels like two. The action simply does not stop – at one stage the author writes “I’m not cut out for this sort of thing”. Rolling into the next chapter, the reading is just a blur and, as accurately as possible when trying to get such things down on paper, the utter pace of the fighter pilot’s life during the Battle of Britain is well conveyed. On top of this the banter among the pilots is an absolute joy to read – always amusing and very clever, the type that could only be expressed by those of a close-knit team.

What is most remarkable is with the Battle of Britain behind him – and some rather dicey flying at times in some pretty unpleasant weather – you’d think there’d be time for the author to find some time to catch-up and recharge his batteries. With Fighter Command now on the offensive, and the Biggin Hill Wing leading from the front, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Often flying two sorties a day, the author now finds himself escorting small formations of bombers over Occupied Europe to entice the German fighters into the air. It is a reversal of the previous summer when the Germans did exactly the same over Britain. As detailed in Peter Caygill’s The Biggin Hill Wing 1941 (one of the first books reviewed on ABR), the small forces of bombers did not prove terribly enticing and the Germans were able to dictate their contact with the British aircraft to a considerable extent. September 1941 rolls around and a very tired author, despite the regulatory periods of leave he must have had, is, in Kingcombe’s word, “over the hill”.

Five initially “unbearable” months as an instructor - a blossoming romance keeps him going and helps him to finally unwind and enjoy his flying again. A very understated visit to Buckingham Palace to receive his DFC is recorded almost absent-mindedly and, suddenly, it is February 1942, RAF Debden is ‘home’ and No. 65 Squadron marks a return to sweeps over Europe and combat in Sptifire MkVbs against the far superior Fw 190. The fatigue returns and manifests itself in a piercing pain across the top of the author’s eyes. Its development is subsequently way-laid somewhat by a posting to Malta via the great convoy that formed under the banner of Operation Pedestal – the maximum effort to force through vital supplies and aircraft to an island under siege.

This period is condensed into some 30 pages but offers great insight into the preparations the pilots made to fly their Spitfires off the carriers. Wellum leads one of the four formations to Malta off the deck of HMS Furious but not before seeing HMS Eagle torpedoed and sunk while still sitting on the deck in his Spitfire. I found this observation of particular interest as I could put myself on board Eagle through the words of Mike Crosley who had survived the sinking and recounted the event in his They Gave Me A Seafire (also reviewed here on ABR).

The author leads his Spitfires successfully to the island and, upon landing, is greeted by none other than Keith Park who remembers him from his Biggin Hill days in 1940. There is no rest for Wellum as, with the convoy still sailing to Malta, he is flying operationally the next day. Although it is not mentioned directly that he bore witness to the arrival of the battered tanker Ohio, the description is very moving and the relief the residents must have felt is palpable.

The stay on Malta is comparatively short with the high tempo of flying causing the rapid return of fatigue and the pain across the eyes. A diagnosis of chronic sinusitis and a slightly amusing but rather disturbing ‘procedure’ to clear the fluid follow before the author is sent home via Hudson to Gibraltar and Catalina to Plymouth. Mentally and physically exhausted, he recuperates in the English countryside before becoming a production test pilot for the Gloster Aircraft Company and flying Typhoons which, compared to the Spitfire, is such a brute of a single-engine aircraft that he looks around to “see if it’s got two of everything”. Beautiful, amusing and heart-warming writing to the very last word.

Convinced? Well, I suspect you wouldn’t need to read the above to be so but thank you for doing so all the same. First Light truly is a remarkable work. Hard to put down, the detail is enough to keep the purist happy yet not technical to keep, well, everyone happy. There are no lists of cylinder-head temperatures, rates of climb at certain power settings or anything like that. The detail is in the author’s observations and his interactions and it is these where the reader can learn so much more. The people Wellum encounters in his travels are all fascinating and worthy of their own stories even though, at times, names are not mentioned. He spends considerable time giving ‘life’ to these people on paper which serves to round out the reading experience. I made a rather clumsy note while reading – “truly great writing is this” and “Page 263” (or the second page of Chapter 11 depending on which edition you have) – but, in all honesty, I could have made a note on every page as it hard to not turn up a wonderful passage.

As already mentioned, the author is a “cheeky young cocky little bugger” (an assessment by none other than his first CO, Roger Bushell of eventual ‘Great Escape’ fame) with a humble assessment of his own abilities to fly and to cope. If he comments on promotions or awards it is only in passing or determined from comments ‘buried’ in the text yet it is evident he is a talented flyer. This talent is only surpassed by his ability to write what he saw and felt. He adds colour to what is otherwise a predominantly black and white war. In terms of the Battle of Britain, he injects the colour of that summer into the pages – the green countryside, the silver of the Thames and the blue of the Channel, the foreboding greens and greys of the German aircraft and “small white clouds against the blue summer sky”. He has written a book that is almost impossible to put down but at times you simply have to look up to catch your breath. Simply superb.

First Light. Geoffrey Wellum. Read it.

The book is easily available throughout the world in a number of different editions – the mark of a bestseller and it’s easy to see why. Thirty-nine photos are included in two sections on glossy paper. Some are generic to the events the author was involved in but most are personal images and include a good selection of the marvellous pilots/characters Wellum flew and lived with.

The reviewed copy was bought secondhand online – “just buy the bloody thing” – and was published by Penguin Books Ltd in 2003. ISBN 0-141-00814-8.

Vale Jim Sheddan

2010-12-10T21:43:00.007+11:00

It's always a sad day when a veteran passes away but the loss of those who have shared their life with us 'poor slobs' through the medium of a book always feels a bit more personal. That connection has been made through the pages and while it will never resemble the strength of a personal relationship the reader appreciates it for what it is - a window. If you then happen to stumble upon someone who knows the author and confirms your assumptions, the connection is stronger no matter how intangible it is.

So it was with the passing of Jim Sheddan, the author of the often amusing Tempest Pilot (co-written with Norman Franks), on Thursday. I've had his book in my collection for about a decade and, although I read it a few years ago, it still resonates - the connection was made. The former No. 485 Squadron Spitfire pilot and 486 Typhoon and Tempest pilot and CO was a superb flyer - he was successful against aircraft (manned and pilotless) and ground targets alike - and possessed a considerable, wicked really, sense of humour and love of life. What little I know of his life over the past decade, he was happy to lend his time to various commemorative efforts and was a dab hand at homebrew. He was also very supportive of the various Bomber Command organisations having lost his brother on his first operation.

My condolences to the family and friends of this good man. I cannot begin to imagine the hole his death has left in your lives.

Squadron Leader Cornelius James Sheddan DFC, RNZAF. RIP.

6 Group Bomber Command - Chris Ward

2010-11-20T17:58:00.011+11:00

I have a confession to make. It’s a confession that won’t exactly instil a lot of confidence in the following passages but, in the interests of maintaining the honesty I try to express in my reviews, it is one I must make. I did not finish this book. In fact, I didn’t even make it to page 100 and that took me at least a couple of months. It would be unfair to blame this length of time completely on the book, as other responsibilities always get in the way of reading, but it is certainly not something you can’t put down. On top of this my approach to reading 6GBC was completely wrong despite the advice from a good friend. I had been warned that, as it was an operational history, it would quite likely be a bit of a slog. While I appreciated this advice, I thought two things. One, as a book reviewer, how can I review a book without reading it ‘properly’? Two, my passion for the genre and respect for the people involved would surely carry me through. It would seem sheer enthusiasm makes one a bit naive and my impressions are somewhat clouded as result. Having said that, if you were to approach this book for what it is – a first stop reference for 6 Group – you would certainly never be disappointed. 6 Group Bomber Command fits a lot of information into a small package and pays tribute to those people who formed the largest contingent of overseas personnel to serve in the RAF – the Canadians.

Like Australia and New Zealand, Canada was a signatory of Article XV which, as part of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan, called for the formation of squadrons that would operate under RAF control but be financed by their respective countries. While Canada was not keen to give up control of its personnel to the RAF – the preference being to operate ‘alongside’ its ally – it eventually reached a compromise that would lead to a bomber group made up of Canadian squadrons. Thus, 6 Group was born. While the three-year negotiations certainly favoured the RAF’s ultimate goal – a complete bomber Group financed by someone else – the Canadians were justifiably proud when 6 Group was finally realised on the first day of 1943.

Eight squadrons formed the new Group with other Canadian units continuing to operate with ‘RAF’ Groups prior to their eventual transfer to join their countrymen. The author gives a brief run-down of the squadrons before, like the Group, diving into operations which commenced on the night of 2/3 January, 1943. The early operations with Wellingtons and Halifaxes are very interesting as the Group achieves its first successes and, of course, suffers its first losses. The Group’s operations are cleverly woven into Bomber Command’s campaign as a whole so the reader is provided with an excellent picture of the contributions the Canadians made. This contribution steadily grows as experience, equipment and men are acquired to the point where the Group easily, and regularly, fields more than 100 aircraft for a night of operations. Certainly a far cry from the six Wellingtons sent out on that first op in January, 1943.

As fascinating as the operations are, after a while they blend in to each other and, if you’re not paying attention, nothing sinks in as you read and you lose track of the timeline. It becomes a case of wading through pages and pages of targets, bomb loads, aircraft numbers, aircraft losses and crew ‘statistics’. At times it feels like tables of numbers converted into paragraphs but then it is, after all, a reference book (my mistaken approach to 6GBC resulted in this opinion). There are bright spots though as the reader is fairly regularly treated to a short piece on the experiences of a crew during a particular raid or even a short biography of someone who lived to fly another day ... or didn’t.

To a considerable extent I think the author was done a disservice with the presentation of the book. I don’t usually talk about this side of things until the end of a review but, in this case, I feel it has such a bearing on the ‘readability’ of 6GBC that it cannot simply be mentioned in passing. Naturally, I invite any reader of this particular review to remember I read this book ‘wrong’. Externally, 6GBC is a typically well-presented (indeed, superb) effort by Pen & Sword – perhaps the best in the business when it comes to producing attractive hardbacks. Internally, 29 photos in their own section ably illustrate the various personalities, bases and aircraft of the Group with particular emphasis on life on a bomber field. The appendices are, well, I’ll get to those later as they deserve the attention. The text of the first chapter – all 130 pages of narration – is where things fall over. My first impression on opening the book was of page upon page of huge blocks of text with not even ‘white space’ between sections let alone paragraphs. This contributes to the operations blending into each other and the reader (well, me) having to pay careful attention to do more than just ‘see’ the words. I spent considerable time trying to understand the logic of the editors in constructing the book in this way. Certainly economics played a huge part in keeping the book to a certain size. Indeed, the author says he intended “...to provide as much information as possible in the space available...”. I just think spreading things out a bit would have made it an easier book to tackle if one insisted on sitting down to read the narration from start to finish as I did. Space between each paragraph would not be feasible from a cost or size point of view. At least, I would have liked to have seen a heading for each month rather than everything blending in under a “1943” banner (for example).

This latter point would also be of particular benefit when using – as opposed to reading – the book to its full capability. If you happen to be researching a particular 6 Group aircraft or crew, the excellent appendices will provide what you need to get started down a path that, more often than not, will take you to places you never imagined. Dates of aircraft losses etc are comprehensively included in the appendices and can then be traced to the narrative so a general idea of that particular night/loss can be learned. It takes a bit of work to flick through the narrative to find the correct month and this is where monthly ‘headings’ would have been of most use (and from a reading point of view you’d have some idea of progress).

It is the appendices, really Chapters Two and Three, though, that are worth the purchase of this book alone. Chapter Two gives a quick reference to each squadron, its time on ops and the periods particular types of aircraft were flown. Chapter Three makes it all worth it with a squadron by squadron (15 units in all) listing of every aircraft flown and their fates and, very interestingly, each squadron’s ‘ranking’ within the Group in terms of ops flown and aircraft lost. These statistics are extended to Bomber Command as a whole depending on what type/s the squadron flew. Some of the statistics are as sobering as reading about a lost crew in the narrative. To give you an idea of the extent of this data, Chapters Two and Three account for 122 pages of a 260-page book.

Look, I regret not reading all of the narrative and, as I have said, the experience of doing so (or not doing so as the case may be) has led to the comments above. Take them as you will. If you were to use this book as I intend to – a first-stop reference for anything to do with 6 Group – you will not be disappointed. You possibly won't even have a problem reading the narrative. The author did not set out to write a literary masterpiece. He has written a book crammed full of information about a major contribution by one country to the RAF’s bomber offensive. The Canadians may not have had the independent bomber force they originally wanted, but 6 Group, like this book, achieved so much within the ‘constraints’ placed upon it.

As already mentioned, this is a well-produced book and a good addition to the author’s collection of Group titles. Combined or stand-alone, they provide an easy to use source for novice and Bomber Command aficionado alike.

The book is, naturally, readily available from Pen & Sword for an affordable price (considering its breadth of information).

This review copy was published by Pen & Sword Aviation in 2009. ISBN 978-1-84884-155-0

The Hudsons are almost here

2010-11-13T23:26:00.012+11:00

If you haven't got in touch with David Vincent about The RAAF Hudson Story - Book Two, I heartily recommend you do it now so you can take advantage of his pre-publication offer. I've just seen some photos of how the finished book should look and, if anything, it presents even better than Book One.

Email David - do it now! djvincentATchariot.net.au.

The Hudsons will be worth the wait

2010-09-15T21:55:00.007+10:00

I had an email from David Vincent last month saying the introduction and first chapter of his new book, The RAAF Hudson Story - Book Two, have been sent to the designer for completion. The remainder of the book is ready and David is very excited with the result. The one thing holding David up at the time of the email was having to prepare 150 photo captions for chapter one.

David mentioned there will be a pre-publication offer coming out this month and the intention is to have the book in readers' hands before Christmas. If you are interested in the second instalment of this very important Australian work drop David a line on djvincentATchariot.net.au.

On the subject of new books Peter Wheeler's Kiwis Do Fly has just arrived and it is superb. Max Lambert - author of the brilliant Night After Night - is also working on a book about New Zealand fighter pilots. Due out next year it will certainly be one to keep an eye out for.

I apologise for no reviews of late. Things have been a bit hectic. I'm afraid it will be the end of October before the next review is posted.

Commander RM 'Mike' Crosley DSC*, RN - RIP

2010-07-24T17:01:00.021+10:00

It was with considerable sadness that I read of 'Mike' Crosley's passing today. While he died on June 20, the Telegraph obituary has only just been published.

As regular readers of ABR may remember, Crosley was the author of the superlative They Gave Me A Seafire which I reviewed in January (check the blog archive for 2010) and is a book that is as much a study of the FAA's wartime development as it is an entertaining and informative memoir of a remarkable pilot.

After publishing the review here I was honoured to be contacted first by a family friend and, secondly, by Mr Crosley's wife, Joan. For the past seven years Joan had been looking after her husband who was suffering Lewybody Dementia. Only recently had Mr Crosley been placed in a nursing home so it would seem remarkable and dedicated people are attracted to each other. While Mr Crosley's poor health and passing is a sad end to the life of a very clever man with a marvellous sense of humour, his astounding legacy lives on in his five children and in writing that can be favourably compared to 'classics' such as Geoffrey Wellum's First Light. May he rest in peace.

Photo courtesy The Telegraph.

A Most Secret Squadron - Des Curtis DFC

2010-07-11T20:28:00.013+10:00

As I sit down to write this I’m struggling with the familiar problem of what to write about without giving the game away. Squadron or unit histories are, as a rule, tricky to review without sounding like a calendar of events. There has to be enough detail to inform the reader/prospective buyer ... but not too much. So, reading something about a squadron whose aircrew trained long and hard for an operation that never happened ... well, only so much can be said really. However add in two highly secret weapons, limited combat ops, a very personal account of squadron life and cram it into less than 200 pages and all of sudden this review has more areas to cover than this squadron did training flights. Do not allow my vague meanderings above to divert you from one point – Des Curtis’ A Most Secret Squadron: The Story of No. 618 Squadron RAF is the only title that records the entire history of these most secret Mosquitos and their crews.

Barnes Wallis fans will know 618 was formed to carry a smaller version of the ‘famous’ bouncing bomb so effectively used by No 617 Squadron. Both squadrons were unaware of the other’s existence and the secrecy surrounding the units and the weapons was so effective that, when the success of the dams raid was revealed to the world, the members of 618 had no idea their Lancaster-flying colleagues had employed a weapon that used the same principles as theirs.

The two squadrons, though, were very much alike and, to some extent, their experiences in the early stages correlate. Both were formed to deliver a weapon that was still in trials and had to be deployed effectively ahead of a rapidly approaching deadline. Once this deadline passed and the weapons – or, more correctly, the ‘stores’ – had been used by either, or both, squadrons, the cat would be out of the bag. This is where the paths of 617 and 618 diverge, as we know, with the successful attack on the dams by the former. ‘Our’ squadron however had a wholly different operation to contend with. Indeed, it was a target the CO of 617, Guy Gibson, was relieved to find he would not be flying against – the German battleship Tirpitz.

Anchored in a variety of progressively distant Norwegian fjords, Tirpitz was an ever-present threat to the Russian convoys and the battle for the Atlantic as a whole. When/if she sailed, she had the potential to wreak havoc. Fortunately, hamstrung by German High Command’s fear of losing her, Tirpitz spent the majority of her time in service hiding from the RAF and RN. However, in doing so, she tied up considerable numbers of aircraft and ships that would have been effectively used elsewhere. Of course saying that is with the benefit of hindsight whereas, at the time, she was a considerable threat that needed to be removed. So, among other initiatives, No. 618 Squadron was formed as part of Coastal Command in late March 1943 for the express purpose of removing this threat.

At the time of the squadron’s formation, Coastal Command’s few Mosquitos were flying photo reconnaissance and met flights. Bomber Command was well-equipped so, naturally, became a source for experienced crews whose numbers were complemented by veterans from several Coastal Beaufighter squadrons (the primary CC strike aircraft at the time). Straight away we have a problem with every crew arriving on squadron – they either had no experience flying anti-shipping operations or hadn’t even sat in a Mosquito! On top of this challenge the new CO of 618, Wing Commander GH ‘Hutch’ Hutchinson, had to ‘borrow’ aircraft (and ground crew) from bomber units in order to fly something while Mossies were pulled from the production line to be modified. Despite the TOP SECRET arrangements and the remoteness of their first base, RAF Skitten near RAF Wick in Scotland, the aircrew knew they and their colleagues were hand-picked so had an inkling they were in for something special. They didn’t have to wait long as by early April all had been briefed as to the target and the date for the operation barely a month in the future.

Really, the squadron was ‘up against it’ from the start. At the time of the briefing, Tirpitz was already sitting beyond the operational range of the Mosquito. This issue would continue to haunt the planning of the operation. To the credit of the crews they continued to practice low-level navigation and attacks against moored target ships knowing full well if they survived the guns of the Germans, a flight to Sweden or ‘friendly’ Russia on rapidly diminishing fuel still lay ahead. The analysis of the various contingencies thrown into the planning of the raid is where the book is at its most fascinating and the frustration obviously experienced by the crews at the continuing delays and problems (particularly navigating over a large expanse of water at low-level) is well conveyed by the author who, of course, was one-half of one of those crews.

Eventually, with attacks being made on Tirpitz by midget submarines and the like, the squadron began to appear redundant despite re-training for dropping the stores against U-boats and being considered for attacks on land-based targets (shades of 633 Squadron). As the workload decreased the aircrew turned to a variety activities as only aircrew can do. The writing was on the wall and the squadron, other than a core of skilled personnel, was dispersed in early September 1943 while technical trials with the weapon continued. So, that was the end of No 618 Squadron ... or so you’d think.

The Japanese fleet was still very active, and ‘live’ stores numerous, but the problem of range was again an issue so trials were conducted flying a Mosquito on and off an aircraft carrier. Within 10 months of ‘shutting up shop’ at RAF Skitten, 618 was again fully-manned – this task being much easier due to fourteen of the original crews being available and extra crews being sourced from the now large number of Mosquito units in Coastal Command service. With more dropping of inert stores combined with learning the art of operating from a carrier, the pace was hectic and in a perfect example of military organisation, the squadron found itself in Ceylon four months later en route to Australia.

With the Mosquitos reassembled and training well underway, time again became a negative factor on the squadron’s chances of being deployed operationally. By 1945, the Americans were rapidly approaching Japan and generally took a dim view to ‘specialist’ squadrons that required extra effort and resources to be accommodated at forward bases. Their own tests of the weapon had not gone well with at least one accident resulting in the loss of the aircraft (a video can be found on You Tube of this accident and it is clear the aircraft is much to low to begin with). As the Americans dictated what happened in the Pacific theatre, the squadron was again, more or less, cast aside – so much so squadron personnel assisted local farmers at harvest time. Several fatal crashes certainly did nothing for the morale of the squadron so it was with some apparent relief when, in July 1945, the men of 618 were again posted away. This was certainly the end of the squadron but, unbeknown to the frustrated Australian-based crews, some of their colleagues had been very busy in the waters around the UK.

A special detachment had been formed in October 1943 – barely a month after the squadron was dispersed at RAF Skitten – to operate the Mosquito Mk XVIII equipped with the ‘Molins gun’. While not the heaviest gun fitted operationally to an aircraft during the war, the 57mm, six-pound warhead firing Molins was nothing to be sneezed at. Several 618 crews were sourced and set about hunting surfaced U-boats in the Bay of Biscay. Flying from the very Coastal Command airfield of RAF Predannack, the author and his colleagues were to fly the only operational sorties of any of the various incarnations of 618 Squadron. It is at this stage in the book that the writing becomes very autobiographical as the author is a rare man among rare men – an operational member of a most secret squadron. Self-sufficient and highly-experienced despite the long period of training for the Tirpitz attack, the detachment was almost immediately successful in the anti-submarine role but not before losing its commander, S/L Charlie Rose DFM DFC, on its first sortie.

Attacks continued against progressively heavier-armed and escorted U-boats but the ‘Tsetse’ Mosquitos were now escorted by the more conventionally-armed Mossies of 248 Squadron. Encounters with Ju-88s were commonplace and the detachment was to have its most successful period in late March 1944 when two U-boats were mortally damaged. The detail of these attacks is absorbing and is ably supported by official reports of the time and, of course, the author’s vivid recollections.

Time was again running out for the detachment as the Germans were now well aware of the Molins gun so there was little point for the crews and their aircraft to be billeted away from the other Coastal crews at Predannack. The detachment became ‘C’ flight of 248 Squadron and attacks on all forms of German shipping continued with regular success. The ‘Tsetse’ Mossies continued flying until early January 1945 but the widespread use of rocket projectiles, which did not require massive modification of the airframe, meant the airborne artillery’s days were numbered from the start. Its effectiveness, though, proved that 618 Squadron, with the right weapon, could make a serious contribution.

As stated earlier the 200 or so pages of AMSS makes it an easy book to finish relatively quickly and the majority of the writing certainly makes the experience most pleasant. The initial introduction to the Battle of the Atlantic, as the author develops the context for 618’s formation, is a little hard to follow though. It’s almost as if numerous post-war sources were partly-referenced as the discussion is quite disjointed and slightly off-putting. While not the most promising of starts, the reader has to remember the author is looking back at events he was not directly involved in. These events, however, had a direct effect on him – he was assigned to 618. Trying to condense several years of warfare in (and over) the Atlantic into a few pages written 50 years later without getting bogged down in detail would be a serious challenge for anyone.

Like the Mossie crews the important thing is to persevere because once the book turns to the development and composition of the ‘bouncing bomb’ the writing improves markedly and improves yet again once the flying begins. It is clear the author is a lot more comfortable describing the life of the squadron especially since he and his pilot were one of its most successful crews. He writes of never-ending training, drops against target ships and the continuous speculation as to whether they would ever get to sortie in anger ... and how many of them would survive to tell the story. The frustration of the crews is, as mentioned above, palpable and well-handled with typical understated humour and a certain resignation to the task – strong men indeed. They were like 100-metre sprinters waiting for the starter’s gun. If it ever came, they’d be off in a flash and, most likely, things would be over quickly one way or the other. The majority of the 618 crews never got out of the starting blocks but for a lucky few the gun that started 618’s success was considerably larger than a starter’s pistol!

This is a book that needed to be written especially among the plethora of titles covering the more famous No. 617 Squadron. That the task fell to one of the few squadron members rather than a historian is all the more important as knowing the author witnessed many of the squadron’s major events adds an authenticity to the training, squadron life and the Tsetse operations. Fittingly, the book ends with a chapter about the author, his pilot and a former squadron mate meeting the captains of two of the U-boats they attacked ... forty years after the fact. It is a moving experience to read and a reminder that despite the squadron’s short, disrupted existence and limited time on operations, its legacy continues and its contribution should never be forgotten.

Grub Street’s new edition of this book is a welcome addition to the number of copies available as the original self-published work can be hard to find affordably. The edition I read is the self-published work from 1995. It is a well-produced book with useful appendices and a variety of photos printed on the same paper as the text.

On the photo front it was noted the second photo – a close up of the modified bomb bay – was printed upside-down. Along with the ‘clunky’ opening chapter, this type of thing would have benefitted from an editor’s professional eye so it is hoped Grub Street’s recent re-release of this title is more than just a carbon copy with a fancy new dust-jacket. That said, these are minor distractions from a story that is as rich and honest as any you will come across in this genre.

Footnote - The squadron’s base in Australia was Narromine which is three hours north of where I now sit. The museum there (and one in Sydney) has several major components from the squadron’s Mosquitos. That any part of a Mosquito survives is remarkable but something from 618? Priceless and simply astounding. Like the book and the surviving veterans, a very tangible link to a unique squadron.

Far North Queensland

2010-06-13T12:35:00.004+10:00

Well, here I am in FNQ - Cairns to be exact - a couple of days early for a course (work, honest!) and I've had the chance to travel around a little bit and check out a few things. I'm leaving a lot of things for when my wife and I make it up here but I've managed to visit Mareeba aerodrome but, sadly, did not see much to inspire me in terms of the history of the place. I definitely should have done a bit more research as to what to look for but other than Beaufort Street and a couple of plaques/signs (and a closed aviation 'museum'), there's little to tell the casual visitor that is was once a thriving (and large) wartime airfield teeming with RAAF and USAAF aircraft (a visit to the nearby Syd Beck collection helps in that respect). A flick through Damien Waters' Beaus, Butchers and Boomerangs would have been the smart thing to do.

Every day of this trip I've been able to look out over the waterfront of Cairns - home to Catalinas during the war (check out Brett Freeman's Lake Boga At War and, of course, David Vincent's Catalina Chronicle and AE Minty's Black Cats) - and out to the Coral Sea. However probably the book I am reminded of most of all has little to do with the subject of this website. The wonderfully named Marsden Hordern wrote the equally wonderful A Merciful Journey which covers his days in the small ships of the Royal Australian Navy. Eventually becoming the skipper of several small patrol boats, Hordern, also a Captain Cook afficianado, worked these waters and those north to New Guinea during the war. His command pulled into Cairns on several occasions and, remembering this as I looked at the RAN's current patrol boat base this morning, I wondered if that was the very wharf he tied up to. It really adds to the reading experience (even though I read the book in 2008) when you're able to see the same things the author did. It does pay to leave the armchair on occasion!

The last autobiography to be written by an NZ fighter ace?

2010-06-10T16:13:00.008+10:00

As we get further into the 21st Century the ranks of surviving wartime veterans are, of course, sadly thinning. Barely a couple of days pass without reading yet another obituary of someone who faced the unimaginable but survived to make the most of a long post-war life. I've unfortunately found it's often the first time I've heard of the person but it's never to late to honour a life well lived.

Of the few New Zealand fighter aces still with us some, like Alan Peart and Jim Sheddan, have written their memoirs but according to Larry Hill, a well-known New Zealand aviation bibliophile and a man in the know in such matters, it is likely that the new book by Wing Commander Owen Hardy DFC* - Through My Eyes: Memories of a life in the Royal Air Force in war and peace - will be the last by a Kiwi ace.

As much as I respect Larry I do hope he is wrong on this occasion and I think he would agree. Having said that, if Through My Eyes does turn out to be the last by a living New Zealand ace, what a way to end this unique genre. Owen Hardy served with 485 Squadron in the UK and was hand-picked by Brian Kingcombe to fly in North Africa. Post-war he remained in the RAF and led a Vampire display team in Germany before becoming a big-wheel in terms of developing the RAF's defence strategy. Several months ago Dave Homewood of the Wings Over New Zealand forum interviewed Mr Hardy, the first to do so, and has commented that the book will be loaded with many previously unseen photos and that, if the interview is anything to go by, the publicity-shy author will have written a brilliant book.

Convinced? Visit the link below and buy 298 pages of what is an historic book whichever way you look at it.

Through My Eyes

The Hudsons are coming, the Hudsons are coming!

2010-05-18T19:53:00.010+10:00

Further to news of the publication of Book Two of The RAAF Hudson Story reported on ABR earlier, I received an email from author David Vincent confirming he was hoping for a July release. He is currently tying up loose ends and can see the light at the end of the tunnel (yikes, I'm in love with cliches) but "the project seems never-ending ... [however] the delays in completion have allowed for some additional 'new' photos plus the most detailed text on the subject to date." David added if the book missed July it would certainly be out in August.

Book Two will have just four chapters - Operations North Western Area, Operations North Eastern Area, Transports and Air Ambulances and Post-war Survivors - but, as David says, "some new ground has been covered or at least some old ground dug over really well!" If Book One is anything to go by, Book Two will be a masterpiece. While referencing the still unread Book One recently I was amazed at the detailed analysis given to the lead-up to war with the Japanese and the involvement of the RAAF Hudsons in finding the elusive invasion fleet. Superbly researched and written, it was an education to say the least.

Details regarding pricing etc will be forthcoming at a later date (when I know, you’ll know). If you would like to express interest in a copy of Book Two, please email David on djvincentATchariot.net.au (replacing the AT with @).

Coming Soon

2010-04-13T19:56:00.005+10:00

The latest book from Bomber Barron author Richard Stowers. Yet to be published but further details shortly.

Richard now has a website - www.richardstowers.co.nz

Hostile Company - Alan Peart DFC in action

2010-04-05T10:11:00.017+10:00

You're probably wondering why I'm writing about an art print when this is a book review site. Well, one of the books in my collection, and one of the better memoirs to be published in recent years, is From North Africa To The Arakan by New Zealand Spitfire ace Alan McGregor Peart DFC. With the assistance of Kiwi aviation historian Larry Hill (author of the recently released An Aviation Bibliography for New Zealand - possibly one of the most 'dangerous' books ever published ... dangerous to your wallet!), Alan has commissioned artist Ron Fulstow to capture one of his more dicey flights. Alan provides a brief outline of the action:

"During the Japanese assault on Imphal, in Burma, [81 Squadron] provided air cover over the second Chindit expedition approximately 200 miles behind the Japanese lines. It did this from a strip code-named 'Broadway'. It was from this strip that an air battle took place between two of our Spitfires and more than 20 Japanese fighters. The sole surviving Spitfire is shown in combat in the print."

The date was March 17, 1944 and the other Spitfire was flown by S/L William 'Babe' Whitamore DFC who was a remarkably experienced fighter pilot having flown in the UK and North Africa with 66, 92, 112 and 601 Squadrons before joining 81 in India. During the action on March 17 - in which he and Alan were jumped by more than 20 Oscars as they took off from 'Broadway' - he added an Oscar to his score of 8.5 victories before being killed by fire from the three Japanese aircraft on his tail. Alan meanwhile flew for his life for the next 40 minutes until the Oscars had to turn for home low on fuel but not before losing one of their number to a head-on pass against our hero.

Only one opportunity to hit back occurred when one of the Oscars tried a head-on attack and we both fired at each other. I saw cannon strikes on his fuselage before he shot past and the army later confirmed to me that he had crashed. - page 162, FNATTA.

Alan's aircraft did not escape entirely unscathed though with the Mk VIII being hit behind the cockpit by a cannon shell which exploded under the seat. Fortunately the armour plate protected Alan from injury. However he threw the Spitfire around the sky (and the Oscars) to such an extent that upon later inspection it was found "the tail rivets were sprung, the wings had extra dihedral, and the engine mounting was damaged."

So, certainly a remarkable action to reproduce in a painting. Interestingly, research by Alan and Larry indicates this is possibly the only art print to depict an RAF Spitfire in action against Japanese aircraft.

Now the business side of things. Other than Alan's signature, the print is also signed by F/L WJ Robinson who joined 81 in early 1943 and also served with 485 Sqn in the UK; F/L Clarke, another 485 Sqn flyer; and F/L Laugeson, a ferry pilot who delivered Spitfires across Africa to the Middle East squadrons.

The print itself is printed on top quality art paper and measures 840 by 580mm and is priced at NZ$205 including P&P. For customers in the UK, the print is available for 75.00 GBP including P&P. If you are lucky to own a numbered copy of Alan's book (sold direct by Alan) he will try to send you the matching numbered print for the special price of NZ$170 including P&P. All prints come with a certificate of authenticity and a letter from Alan giving a few details of the action. A very limited number of Remarque copies are also available but you will need to speak to Alan for further information on these.

If you are interested in this wonderful print, please contact Alan at alan.peartATxtra.co.nz (replacing the AT with @ of course). Alan will reply with details for payment.

I know what I will be adding to my wall in the near future!

Incidentally, the two books mentioned above - Alan's From North Africa To The Arakan and Larry Hill's An Aviation Bibliography For New Zealand - will be reviewed on ABR in the near future.

Under A Bomber's Moon - Stephen Harris

2010-03-28T12:09:00.012+11:00

Every book is a journey. A good writer can make even a seemingly mundane assignment riveting to the point the reader is right there with him or her. But what about the ‘professional’ author, the enthusiast or the newcomer to the genre - none of whom lived the events they describe? Sure they are recounting the experiences of others but what about their journey from initial idea to published author? Often it is touched upon in the introduction and the rest of the book is dedicated to the subject matter. There is always a story behind the story. One might think it would distract from the main focus and, in some cases, no doubt this conclusion is correct. With Stephen Harris’ Under A Bomber’s Moon, however, what is really three stories in one works to enhance the reader’s experience.

UABM is as much a story of the author’s education in the bomber war as it is a tale of two airmen involved in that war. A journalist in Germany at the start of this century, the author in some respects brings several desirable skills to his quest – professional research and writing and the ability to speak German.

His project begins with family stories about his great uncle Colwyn Jones. These stories are ably supported by beautifully written letters by Col to his mother in New Zealand. Also a journalist – having completed a Master of Arts and working at the Auckland Star for 11 years – Col joins up and becomes a navigator with 149 Squadron. He is significantly older than the majority of Bomber Command aircrew and, to some extent, this is reflected in his observations and comments. He completes a hectic tour (more of that later) of 33 ops with 149, is awarded the DFC, serves as bombing leader with 1651 HCU and is then posted to 115 Squadron to serve as navigation officer. He flew one op during his seven month stay with 115 before losing his life on his first trip with 7 Squadron Pathfinder Force. Posthumously awarded a Mention In Dispatches I will tell you now his death left me feeling empty. He was a talented writer and navigator and was one of those people who everyone just seemed to warm to. Of course he had his close friends, many of whom were lost while he continued on, and Col’s letters (and the author’s writing) capture everything from immense joy to terrible sadness. The first, full-page photograph reproduced in the book is a portrait of Col and the big, toothy smile, tidy moustache, bright, smiling eyes and cap at a slight angle tell you almost everything you need to know about this man.

The letters written by Col are at the core of this book and, naturally, the author has expanded on them with contextual research. This research led – as research often does – to several instances of pure luck and, effectively, being in the right place at the right time. Early on, the author recounts the story of Col’s crew ditching their Stirling in the North Sea after an epic trip to Essen in early June 1942. In the course of his research Stephen acquires a CD of wartime BBC radio recordings of bomber crew broadcasting their experiences. Imagine his surprise when one of these recordings proves to be Col’s skipper, Eric Whitney, talking about the ditching. Having two personal recollections of such an event would be a boon for any aviation writer and the author certainly makes good use of this opportunity. However perhaps the most fortuitous opportunity to ‘cross his bows’ was the chance to meet and interview Otto Fries – a former Luftwaffe night fighter pilot whose tally of RAF bombers shot down is well into double figures. Otto’s story is given equal weight to Col’s and in many ways acts as a fascinating foil to what otherwise would have been ‘another’ well-written account of ‘another’ remarkable Commonwealth airman.

Otto flew the Me 110 and He 219 during his night fighter career but, while he obviously made an impact, his war was certainly not one-sided. Remarkably he and his radar operator survived being shot down several times by both RAF night fighters and the defensive guns of the bombers they hunted. Indeed his war could just as easily have made a book on its own. While I am familiar with the aircraft used by the Luftwaffe and their general ‘MO’, this was definitely the first time I had had a window into the minutae of a German flier’s life. What I knew already was that young fliers, no matter what nationality, were essentially all the same. It was just the uniforms, language and aircraft that were different. However, Otto’s memories and experiences also make a serious contribution that is not often encountered in books about Commonwealth aircrew – he gives the Germans a face. How often are Germans referred to as just a Ju 88 or Me 109 or even mere trucks or trains on the ground? This is usually out of necessity and due to a story being told by the person who experienced it (and all they would have seen was the machine). It is refreshing, therefore, to see what the night skies over Germany were like for ‘the other side’ especially when applied to the context of an Allied airman’s war.

While the biographies of either flier could easily take up another few paragraphs it is the writing and structure of this book that I really want to cover – the actual review as it were. Stephen Harris weaves his journey of discovery about Col and the bomber war in general with that of Col’s operational tour. He visits Col’s old airfields and haunts and gets to grips with the time and Col’s contemporaries (there’s a fascinating link to Middleton VC as uncovered in Col’s letters). However he casts an understandably modern eye over the bomber war and the destruction it caused. He is critical of the effectiveness and comes within a hair’s breadth of questioning the morality of it all before countering with reference to the persecution of the Europeans and the Germans' own contribution to large-scale bombing tactics (here he uses Col’s letters referring to exacting some revenge for the bombing of London and Coventry). That the author is new to this ‘world’ is evident – more of that later – and this fact is certainly not lost on him as he writes. It was clear he realised he was looking at events of 60 years ago with 21st Century ideals so his balanced approach stretches far beyond telling the story of an Allied AND a German airman.

An earlier review of this book featured in a military history magazine took offence to the use of ‘arsonists’ when referring to the bomber crews. At the time I was still reading the book and had yet to encounter that passage so reserved judgment while thinking perhaps the ‘modern’ ideals had ‘won out’ for a brief period of time during Stephen’s writing. My natural reaction to the use of this term is one of considerable frustration so I was relieved to discover its use at the start of Chapter Nine – a chapter that is devoted to Otto’s flying and his first victory – was to illustrate the opinion of a confused night fighter pilot over the burning cities of Cologne and Hamburg. While very much a controversial word to use in this genre, this is perhaps the tamest but maybe most relevant use I have seen. It was certainly not intended to stir!

The writing itself is easy to follow but the careers of both airmen might feel somewhat disjointed (and that’s not because of the various chapters dedicated to one or the other). The author, particularly with Col’s service, uses major career events to illustrate the bomber war itself (tactics, equipment etc) and these can jump around a little in terms of chronology. That said, this ties in with the author’s own discoveries and learning and is what makes the book as accessible and understandable to ‘novice’ readers as it is to Bomber Command regulars. It introduces the major factors influencing each force’s operations while providing enough gritty detail.

As alluded to previously the author is new to aviation and the bomber war in particular. His experience as a journalist overcomes most of the issues that this would bring but the occasional hiccup does get through. An aircraft’s horizontal stabiliser is referred to on several occasions as the “tail’s cross-piece” while the airspeed indicator becomes a “speedometer”. Little picky things, yes, but both serve to remind you that this is all new to the author while reinforcing the generally superb effort he clearly put in.

His journalistic skills come to the fore when using square brackets ([…]) to clarify jargon or tidy up running references in correspondence. You may recall my opinion of these was quite scathing in the review of Ford-Jones’ Desert Flyer but in UABM they are used expertly although occasionally there is a bit of over-kill – “…flying at 600ft [altitude]…”.

The handling of the news of Col’s death is understated (although the investigation and first-hand accounts of the incident are very well done) with the author simply relating the facts of what various family members did while leaving the emotion to those who knew Col best. Indeed, Chapter 14 includes more text from letters of condolence than it does descriptive text and is wonderfully constructed and a perfect epitaph.

With excellently laid-out endpapers UABM continues a tradition I’ve noticed with paperbacks about New Zealand aircrew – it looks superb. The thick card covers include flaps front and rear and the artwork is attractive … but quite improbable. With an He 219 in that position the mid-upper gunner on the visibly undamaged Stirling would be hammering away at the German aircraft and/or the bomber would be standing on a wingtip to evade. As I progressed through the book, though, my impression of the cover changed. Rather than this being an interception the cover is of two aircraft flying together in the night sky – comrades-in-arms as it were. In many respects that’s exactly what these opposing airmen were.

While on the subject of illustrations the two sections of photos – 36 in all – are wonderfully reproduced on glossy paper while several maps appear on the high-quality ‘text’ pages. The photos are excellent, were all new to me and cover both airmen’s experiences while also including recent photographs taken during the author’s investigations.

So, now that we’ve traveled through a review that barely scratches the surface of UABM, what have we got? The stories of three men – Col, Otto and the author – and their journeys of discovery, one of which was cut far too short. In a sense, the author continues Col’s story and breathes life into what otherwise would have been one of the many lost airmen who will never have anything written about them. In so doing he turns a remarkable journey into a very special one. While it is not known whether Otto and Col shared the same piece of sky like they do on the cover, the inclusion of Otto’s experiences not only opens the reader’s eyes to the German experience but adds to the understanding of the dangers Col, and the thousands of young men just like him, faced in the night skies over Europe. I can only hope Stephen Harris builds on the journey he has undertaken and applies his knowledge to another aspect of the bomber war. If it’s anything like UABM, it will be worth the read.

As I have said this is a superb looking book and, although a paperback, would easily compete with a hardback in terms of quality of production. Exisle Publishing is new to me and I do not think they have published any other books in this genre. Here’s hoping they get the chance.

This review copy came direct from Exisle and it is available from them online – Exisle Publishing. I have also seen it in several chain bookstores and museum gift shops so it is readily available. At more than 200 pages it is an easy size to read and is crammed full of information which makes it a very worthwhile purchase.

Stephen Harris also has a website which includes extracts from the book and other extra details. Well worth a look at – Under A Bomber's Moon.

On Wings Of Fortune - Richard Pinkham and Steve Darlow

2010-03-20T16:12:00.008+11:00

Following his confronting Flightpath To Murder (reviewed below) Steve Darlow is due to publish On Wings Of Fortune written with W/C Richard Pinkham DFC - a pilot of commensurate skill. Here's the blurb from Steve's website:

RAF veteran Wing Commander Richard Pinkham DFC presents the extraordinary and graphic account of his experiences flying 62 World War Two bombing operations. He tells his story with candour and without pulling punches although the occasional humorous anecdote lightens proceedings. The reader joins Richard in the cockpit of his bomber as he dares the bursting flak, dives to avoid penetrating searchlights and wrestles his damaged aircraft home.

Richard served with the RAF through the entire war embarking on his operational career amid the desperate fight for survival that was the Battle of Britain. He went on to take part in some of the largest bombing raids ever carried out against Germany. With odds of 5 to 1 against him, Richard, unlike so many of his fellow airmen, lived to tell his story. He was then posted to North Africa to blast the Axis forces from Tunisia and, finally, spent the last year of the war in the Far East taking up fascinating accident investigation duties.

On Wings of Fortune is an exceptional story by a distinguished and decorated RAF veteran who flew and fought in the World War Two aerial front line. Acclaimed author Steve Darlow provides the general context of the bomber war. Richard Pinkham relives his terrifying, gripping and fascinating story.

As you can see from the above, and the details on the cover, this is flying and service over and on three continents so certainly something of interest for everyone, I reckon. Due for release in April - as Steve said "the books are in some container on some ocean" - this looks like it will be a fascinating read and, at 17.99 GBP, a readily affordable one. A limited, signed edition will also be available. For further details, please visit Steve Darlow's Fighting High - On Wings Of Fortune.

Beaufighters In The Night - Brick Eisel

2010-02-24T14:17:00.005+11:00

In the past I’ve reviewed books featuring aircrew who flew American aircraft – aircraft generally loaned from the US under the well-known Lend/Lease scheme. Most recently Gus Officer’s Six O’Clock Diamond featuring Kittyhawks was reviewed and, on the bomber front, Murray Peden’s A Thousand Shall Fall and Charles Page’s Wings Of Destiny featured Fortresses and Bostons respectively. You may recall we even looked at an American in the RAF with Caine’s Spitfire, Thunderbolts And Warm Beer. So, what about British aircraft being used by the USAAF? Fair to say such instances (and books) were a lot less common. Mossies, I suspect, come to mind but if you were to visit the USAF Museum at Dayton, Ohio, you’d see, among the classic American types, a very British aircraft wearing ‘stars and bars’ – a Beaufighter.

Put simply, with no American type proving itself a consummate night fighter and the need to help defend the night skies over Europe, the Americans opted for the Beau which, in its night fighter form, was being steadily replaced by the Mosquito. The 417th Night Fighter Squadron, the subject of this book, arrived in North Africa in the latter half of 1943 and proved an effective counter to the regular Luftwaffe raids on harbour installations. That said, as the war progressed, the squadron often found itself the last to move forward or, in the case of equipment, the last to be ‘updated’. Consequently the 417th perhaps did not see as much action as its sister squadrons and had to ‘make do’ with what it had. Similarly the author has used the same resourcefulness and initiative to put together a book on a squadron that had a relatively quiet war and, as a result, has been largely forgotten in the myriad of USAAF day fighter squadron volumes.

The 417th became part of the nascent US night fighter force when it was formed in early 1943. Night Fighter Schools were already churning out crews in Florida and the Americans found many of their instructors, particularly the radar types, to be British civilians or servicemen – the latter most likely on a ‘rest’ tour from operations. A picture of efficiency, by early May, barely three months since its creation, the 417th was fully manned and shipped off for England.

Crossing the Atlantic quickly on the Queen Elizabeth, the squadron knuckled down to 10 weeks of training with the RAF. After flying the P-70 – the night fighter version of the Boston/Havoc light bomber – with its tricycle undercarriage, the American crews found themselves learning to fly the Beaufighter with its tailwheel, capacity to swing on take-off and, according to an extract from the 414th’s history, “the most difficult of all British aircraft to fly.” The aircrew were not the only ones having to adapt. The ground crew found themselves having to master the Hercules engine and other aspects of the airframe that, from their point of view, were ‘quirky’.

Despite the difficulties the 417th was dispatched to the airfield at Tafaroui, Algeria where the aircraft arrived two weeks before the rest of the squadron. When the rest of the squadron finally caught up they found the aircrew rather frazzled from a fortnight of operations and aircraft servicing. Things soon settle down, however, and squadron life settles into the familiar routine with brief moments of excitement and/or stress. A constant theme throughout the squadron’s use of the Beaufighter is the general ‘tired’ status of the aircraft issued. Interestingly the USAAF was unable to arrange spare parts so enterprising members of the air and ground crews would roam the Mediterranean by B-25 Mitchell in search of whatever spares they could scrounge. In contrast with other USAAF units this situation is quite remarkable but anyone familiar with the air war in the desert will know that, until the latter stages of that campaign, the RAF and Commonwealth air forces suffered similar supply issues due to the dangers to shipping in the Mediterranean and the length alternative routes. So the 417th certainly wasn’t in unique territory. However not having a regular parts or even aircraft supply meant a much higher workload for the ground crews in particular. Given the environment in which they worked it is remarkable the squadron achieved what it did.

Shortly after claiming its first victory in early February, 1944, some of the ground staff of the squadron were detached to Corsica. The 417th was the last US night fighter unit in North Africa and, other than regular two-aircraft detachments to Corsica, remained ‘behind the war’ for some time to come. With these detachments and the subsequent re-unification of the entire squadron, though, the action really picks up. Still living in basic camps the 417th’s night fighters were heavily involved in the Italian campaign. This flying intensified with the invasion of the south of France and the squadron adding a new responsibility – intruder ops. Moving to France in September, 1944, the 417th operated out of an airfield just north-east of Marseilles. As always the environment was not an ally especially when the ‘Mistral’ blew at a sustained 40 knots. A series of engine failures, some fatal, brought the squadron to perhaps its lowest point. The cause of these failures and losses was eventually traced to empty fuel barrels containing water that was not emptied out by Marseilles dock workers before the barrels were filled with 100-octane aviation fuel. As always the 417th soldiered on and overcame this and other obstacles. Even when their sister squadrons were re-equipped with the Black Widow (and, in one case, the Mosquito XXX) and new Black Widow units arrived in the theatre, the 417th kept flying its clapped-out Beaufighters and pulling its weight. In particular the squadron was quite effective at intercepting the low-level Luftwaffe flights to Spain. Intended to transport German gold, foreign currency and treasures out of the rapidly declining Third Reich, these flights were difficult to intercept but the 417th, with skills developed from numerous low-level interceptions over the sea, proved up to the task.

The Black Widows eventually arrived in March, 1945 and the squadron was operational again by early April. Other than losing two aircraft to friendly ground fire, what was left of the war passed uneventfully for the 417th.

BITN is quite a quick read in that the main text ends at page 128. The first four chapters are quite short but flow into each other well. After reading so many Commonwealth-based titles some of the language used by the American crews is a little refreshing and a reminder of how two different English-speaking forces can interpret the same situation. Seven appendices fill the final 50 pages and all add considerable detail to the story of the 417th. I did find Appendix V – the combat action reports – a bit hard to read in its capital letter format. While this might add authenticity to the reports I am sure they would have been much easier to read if they’d been presented in the same text format as the rest of the book.

What is particularly rewarding is that BITN is a lot more than just a dry unit history. The author has gone to great lengths to interview and correspond with surviving members of the squadron. Happily he did not limit this first-hand research to aircrew. The seamless injection of the personal memories is made all the more valuable by the inclusion of comments from all personnel levels within the squadron. On any page the reader can expect to find remarks from a private in the mess to the commanding officer. This wide-ranging material is mirrored by a commitment to cover all aspects of squadron life including the ‘winding-down’ period post-war. Of course there is lots of flying. However before an aircraft takes-off on an operation it has to be serviced; its consumables re-stocked; its crew fed, washed, quartered and paid and the airfield itself has to be maintained. Remarkably this is all covered in the main text of the book.

As mentioned above the decrepit Beaufighters flown by the squadron are a regular theme throughout but the general feeling is that the 417th was certainly overlooked in a number of other areas as well. On top of the struggles to keep the Beaus flying, the food and accommodation always seemed to be of a low standard when compared to other USAAF units. It does sound quite similar to the trials and tribulations of the RAF and Commonwealth units in the same theatre though. The initiative shown and solutions devised are certainly the same however.

As with all Pen & Sword books I’ve encountered to date, BITN is well illustrated with a good section of photos printed on glossy paper. In fact the photo coverage is quite extensive and the length of that section – 24 glossy, double-sided leaves and 132 photos (!) – surely must surpass any comparable book of this size and genre. While I noticed one glaring error (RAF Portreath referred to as RAF Port Reith) the text is easy to read and flows nicely with sufficient detail for the avid ‘airhead’ and perfect explanations for the ‘novice’ reader. I do not think I have read a squadron history that so ably caters for readers of all levels. Hopefully this accessibility will help the 417th’s wartime service be remembered and honoured as it should. BITN, therefore, is the perfect memorial for a very resourceful squadron.

The review copy is a 2007 hardback and is well-presented in a wonderfully illustrated dust-jacket. While not as action-packed as some of Pen & Sword’s recent covers it depicts a hard working ground crew slaving over a Hercules in the mud and standing water. Really a great piece of art with detail down to the blanked-out RAF roundel on the wing and the squadron’s Hurricane hack in the background.

The photos in the book, like the text, cover every aspect of squadron life and some are quite candid. Despite my comments about this being a quick read I probably had a bookmark stuck in BITN for close to a month. This was purely due to my circumstances at the time. It was very easy to get back into though.

BITN is easily available from Pen & Sword - Beaufighters In The Night - and the usual places like Amazon etc.

Review copy published by Pen & Sword Aviation in 2007. ISBN 978-1-84415-483-8.

New email address

2010-02-23T16:04:00.003+11:00

Hi everyone

Just a quick post to let you know of my new email - aircrewbooksATiinet.net.au

We've just changed ISPs and although we had a connection on Thursday the modem/router has only just arrived.

Since being offline I've written the Beaufighters In The Night review so that will be posted once I'm on top of everything else that an ISP change entails.

Andy

Flightpath To Murder - Steve Darlow

2010-02-05T13:10:00.006+11:00

Murder is something you only really read or think about in passing in books about Commonwealth aircrew. Death is sadly prevalent but, depending on your views of the bombing campaigns conducted by both sides, murder only seems to 'directly' rear its ugly head when books venture into the realm of prisoners and downed airmen. Of course as I write this I am bouncing the idea around in my head trying to think of other circumstances in the genre covered by this site. Anyway, this is how I approached Steve Darlow's latest effort. I had to chuckle, as you may recall from the Seafire review below I read that book to take a break from Australian aircrew, when I found the airman involved was an Australian flying with the RAF. However this was the very last scrap of misguided mirth I was to utter with relation to this book. FTM is not your average 'derring-do' aircrew book and the story within is as disturbing as it is emotionally draining.

If you read books about aircrew with any sort of regularity you develop a 'sixth sense' of knowledge and the ability to read between the lines. You know the basic path a pilot or gunner will take before he flies on operations and you expect the searchlights and/or flak and fighters etc. In reading widely you will no doubt encounter stories of aircrew parachuting from their stricken aircraft only to be set upon - and injured or worse - by angry civilian 'lynch mobs'. In some cases there'll be a footnote, paragraph or appendix detailing those responsible being tried as war criminals. These accounts of 'terrorfliegers' are always confronting but are often lost in the myriad of edge-of-your-seat action and adventure. Imagine an entire book devoted to one such account...

Bill Maloney is one of the many – the many thousands of Commonwealth fighter pilots who will never be household names. However their contributions – and sacrifices – were no less important than those of Bader, Johnson, Caldwell or Kain. Maloney, though, belongs to a select and unfortunate group of young airmen whose death became the subject of a war crimes investigation and, ultimately, led to further loss of life. Other than that there is little that we know of Maloney. His story is supplied from official records, his logbook, family memories and his letters home. Detail and context are added by his squadron mates and contemporaries of the time. Other than that, there’s not much to go on so the author has done an admirable job in turning the Australian pilot into someone the reader can relate to and reflect upon.

Joining 80 Squadron in May 1944, Maloney flew their Spitfire IXs over Normandy on convoy patrols and provided escort to bombers hitting V1 launch sites. The obligatory fighter sweeps took on a whole new meaning when the squadron re-equipped with Tempests in August of that year. A busy month later (indeed, the day before Operation Market Garden) Maloney’s Tempest was hit by flak while attacking a train and he force-landed on the Dutch-German border near the town of Elten. While the majority of the book examines the war crimes tribunal, the lives of the civilians involved and the effect of the war itself on the local population, it is the pages following the account of Maloney’s loss that are by far the most moving. Letters to his family from the squadron and his mates are an indication of the esteem in which he was held. However, it is the letters to his mother – from the mothers of a good mate and acquaintance also killed and even from one of the staff of an officers’ club in London – from women who only knew of Mrs Maloney through her son that really hit home. Sharing an intense loss and voicing what Mrs Maloney would have no doubt felt, these letters – fully transcribed in the text – are most powerful and, sadly, provided the family with the most up to date news on the fate of the Australian. Believe it or not, the Maloney family was not aware of the war crimes investigation and subsequent prosecution until the author made contact.

Having established the mystery from the opening chapter and then showing Maloney in the thick of things while on operational service, the author dives head first into witness accounts of the pilot’s death. He introduces the ‘characters’ and major players in the story with great detail – examining their lives before and during the war. What struck me was the witnesses and civilian ‘participants’ in the crime appear to have been completely normal family men (for the most part). Ordinary men thrown into extraordinary circumstances.

The events following the forced landing are laid out from a variety of viewpoints and, of course, are detailed during the trial of the accused. The author follows the fortunes of those involved in the period leading up to the trial. The local population was, apparently, sickened by what had happened to Maloney and this seems to have had some influence on the suspects eventually handing themselves in although I suspect the belief they were ‘following orders’ was enough to clear their conscience.

I have deliberately not gone into the circumstances of Maloney’s death or the detail of the trial. To do so would require considerable time and, well, you’re better off reading the book. However, at the very heart of the investigation, is the determination of how the pilot died (and the ramifications this has on the accused). Was the beating he received from the soldiers enough to kill him or was it the rifle shot to the head fired by the civilian official (the coup-de-grace to put him out of his misery apparently)? As you can imagine, to examine such interpretations the author would have gone to some pretty dark places and he freely admits this. Similarly, it does not make for easy reading. Readable, yes, but completely confronting and disturbing.

The discussion about what caused Maloney’s death is mirrored, ironically, in the only execution of one of the accused. Hanging, as it turned out, was often not the cause of death for war criminals. They were hanged, yes, but a study ‘post-gallows’ often revealed the existence of a heartbeat in many cases. Death then came by way of a chloroform injection. I marvelled at the irony but it didn’t make it any more pleasant to read (or write this paragraph).

Time to look at the book as a whole as the tone is darkening. At the core of FTM is the death of a young man who was loved by his family and admired for his character. To some under his guns and bombs, he was evil and the source of all of their suffering. Indeed, this is a book of suffering – from the German civilians under constant bombardment to Maloney’s distraught family in Australia. Even the author is not immune. However he injects heart into what otherwise would have been a cold account of a war crimes trial (and that wouldn’t have made it into mainstream publication). The motivations and backgrounds of every single person featured in the trial are revealed to the reader so they are more than just names on a page. A sense of foreboding prevails right from the start and lasts for more than 50 pages. The business of meting out justice then takes over but this is slowly replaced by a growing frustration. Only one of the accused was hanged, the others managed to distance themselves from any violent act and had their lengthy sentences shortened to the extent they were free men by the mid-1950s - how quickly attitudes can change. That is, the accused who could be identified. The soldiers who did the bashing may still be with us enjoying their long lives.

But for the author’s efforts to write this book, Maloney’s family may never have known the complete circumstances of his death and the subsequent investigation. For them a great service has been done. For us, the general reading masses, we are fortunate the life of an otherwise forgotten pilot has been given the attention it deserves. While far more confronting than enjoyable, this book is a challenge and a departure from the standard Steve Darlow fare but that doesn’t make it any less interesting. If you’re a fan of the author or you like to maintain a well-rounded ‘education’ with regard to Commonwealth aircrew, FTM should be in your collection.

The reviewed copy is published by Haynes - Haynes - Flightpath To Murder. Best known for their motor vehicle manuals, Haynes has recently branched out into books of this genre. I believe FTM is one of their earliest publications along these lines and, if their production quality is anything to go by, they’re off to a good start. The photographs are reproduced in one section on ‘glossy’ paper and complement the text exceedingly well – faces to names etc.

I found it best to tackle this book in chapters. I know that sounds obvious but you will need to ‘break away from the darkness’ at times. Maybe that was just me but it’s worth suggesting it.

Reviewed copy published by J H Haynes & Co Ltd in 2009. ISBN 978-1-84425-541-2

They Gave Me A Seafire - 'Mike' Crosley, DSC*, RN

2010-01-11T17:18:00.017+11:00

After a swathe of books covering RAAF personnel I thought it was time I read something that was the complete polar opposite. I'd been admiring TGMAS ever since I removed it from its envelope a couple of years ago having bought it from a Naval & Military Press sale for about $10. Happily, the quality of the book itself is reflected by the writing within. 'Delightful' is perhaps the best word to describe it. However, as enjoyable a read as it is, it's very evident that, by war's end, the author, a consummate professional, is weary beyond words and quite critical of 'the establishment' and its inability to adapt quickly. I have read several books by flyers who were active for most, if not all, of the war but only one (Owen Zupp's Down To Earth) can compete with TGMAS for its honesty and candour.

I'm getting ahead of myself but, considering the title, there's a lot of Sea Hurricane flying to devour before you come across a Seafire. The book opens with what is becoming a common ‘hook’ these days – an event that is harrowing and full of adventure. In this case it is the sinking of the aircraft carrier HMS Eagle by four torpedoes from the U-boat U73. The author was a Sea Hurricane pilot with 813F Naval Air Squadron and the reader immediately gets an idea of the style of writing when, after describing the initial shock of the explosion, he says “Anyway, lunch was off for the moment...”.

Crosley’s childhood was one of disruption. His mother left his stage opera father and placed the author and his sister in a variety of separate foster homes. However his paternal grandmother soon comes to the rescue and with his father remarried, running a nursery and now overlooking the river Hamble, Crosley earns a choral scholarship and a quality education. Completing his school years, an initial, somewhat comical, attempt to join the Navy fails so he “joined the Metropolitan Police instead.” Working as a bobby during the London Blitz provides a good window into this profession during what must have been a very dangerous and heart-breaking time. With the war well underway, though, Crosley joins the Fleet Air Arm after being told the RAF has a backlog of six months.

What follows is a simply magical chapter of the attempts of HMS St Vincent in Gosport to bash Crosley and his fellow enlistees into something resembling sailors. In this three months prior to heading to No 24 EFTS at Luton, the author makes light of his training and includes many amusing anecdotes from both his class and the one immediately senior (which was full of New Zealanders). Arriving at Luton he flies Mile Magisters rather than the expected Tiger Moths – a sign, he hopes, that means he’s destined for fighters not Swordfish! Again the experiences learning to fly are well recounted and most enjoyable but the first hint of the war’s realities (from a pilot’s perspective) become evident with a fatal crash involving a fellow pupil and, on the Crosley front, a lucky, if not skilful, forced landing. Moving on to SFTS at RAF Netheravon and flying Harts, Audaxes and Battles to learn the art of navigation, instrument flying and bombing (among others), the author makes it through and is posted to Yeovilton for an introduction to the Hurricane. At the time there were very few ‘hooked’ Sea Hurricanes in the FAA so the new pilots had to get to grips with old RAF aircraft. Here we have perhaps the first indication of the RN’s attitude towards aircraft in general but this is certainly addressed later in the book.

Adjusting to the Hurricane like the proverbial duck to water, Crosley is at last in his element and the writing clearly reflects this. His observations are enlightening and educational and, more often than not, humourous. As I’ve already mentioned his understated style of writing lends itself to little quips and passages that are, to put it simply, very clever and most entertaining. In particular, his description of the use of Wall’s Ice Cream tricycles to train pilots and controllers in the fine art of radar-controlled interceptions is an absolute joy and will not fail to raise a smile and a chuckle – imagine a number of pilots pedalling around the airfield listening to radio signals from the tower. Admittedly, this was in 1941 but it’s a sign the RN had finally begun to take its fighters seriously.

Dummy Deck Landings soon follow, in Fulmars interestingly, before the posting to Eagle right at the end of 1941. The RN carrier force was, at the time, hard hit and suffering from a lack of an effectively utilised fighter force. As if to reinforce that point, Crosley, upon reporting on board Eagle, is told her fighters – 813F NAS – are in Scotland and he should go there. He does and after some hunting finds the squadron at Arbroath – all three pilots and two Sea Hurricanes of it. This was Eagle’s entire fighter defence. Before too long, Eagle is sailing for Gibraltar to pick up Spitfires for delivery to Malta. This is a very interesting insight into these supply convoys and is well-supported by some anecdotes of life on ‘The Rock’.

It is on a maximum effort to supply Malta in June 1942 that Crosley, as Number 2 to his flight commander, is directed onto an Italian recce aircraft. With his leader dropping back due to engine problems Crosley successfully engages the enemy to make his first kill. Exactly the same thing happens the next day with a Ju 88 but they only claim a probable (this becomes confirmed when the crew is rescued). A few more busy and successful days for the fighter force of the convoy sees Crosley in the thick of the action and making further claims. The action continues with further convoys and then, with Operation Pedestal, the loss of Eagle. These chapters provide a great angle on this period in the Med when Malta’s survival, should just one convoy fail, was measured in weeks.

Without a ship, our hero returns to England, marries and joins 800 NAS and its new Sea Hurricane IIbs and IIcs at Lee-on-Solent. Again the reader is treated to some fine anecdotes before 800 is assigned to the escort carrier HMS Biter – “always an efficient and happy ship.” Biter is soon deployed in support of Operation Torch – the invasion of North Africa – and 800 NAS is quickly into action providing close support to the Albacores attacking the French airfields in Oran. Despite the excellent briefing Crosley still has some trepidation having never seen Albacores before and only having six hours of night flying. However, he is well led and the reader is treated to the first extract from his diary. These diary extracts continue over the next few pages and share the author’s success at shooting down a French fighter and his frustration at having to land on the notorious HMS Dasher, a ship he was only too happy to leave as soon as practicable. Unfortunately, upon returning home and joining 804 NAS, Crosley finds himself on Dasher again escorting a storm-tossed convoy to Iceland. 804 soon finds itself back on dry land though and ultimately enjoying a marvellous spring with their new Senior Pilot – Crosley DSC. However all good things must come to an end and 804 is broken up in mid-1943 and Crosley is back to training on second-hand fighters – Spitfires.

The author does a commendable job at explaining the pros and cons of turning the Spitfire into the Seafire. As usual for the FAA, it is a patch-up job that is made to work despite the problems encountered. However, Crosley cuts his teeth on a variety of early Seafires before, surprisingly, spending some time with the RAF flying Spitfire IXs. This undoubtedly prepared him for what was to come.

D-Day finds Crosley over Normandy in a Seafire LIII spotting for RN battleships shelling German coastal positions. His diary extracts here are fascinating and he goes to great length to explain the processes, and frustrations, and also gives an interesting run down of the early G-suit, the Franks Flying Suit, which used water-filled bladders to restrict blood flow during high-G manoeuvres. I found this the most enlightening part of the book as I had not come across ‘spotter Seafires’ over Normandy before.

By now an exceptionally experienced pilot, the author is given command of 880 NAS and posted to the Orkneys. Embarking aboard HMS Furious, his squadron provides CAP for some of the Tirpitz raids which were largely unsuccessful. Later strikes along the Norwegian coast are flown from the new, but not-quite-right, HMS Implacable. This ‘working-up’ period proves vital as, after some time ashore, the Seafires return to Implacable and set sail for the British Pacific Fleet. Passing Gibraltar in early April 1945, Crosley returns to a now relatively peaceful Mediterranean. The journey into the Indian Ocean and then to Ceylon begins to reveal some of the Seafires' weaknesses flying in the warmer climes. Implacable herself proves to be somewhat cantankerous but when the ships finally arrive in theatre, via Australia and a lot of exercises, innovation and sheer skill eventually overcome some of the problems and the latest additions to the BPF go to war. Crosley’s account of this period is a mixture of pride in his men and, ultimately, frustration at the chain-of-command and its apparently negative attitude towards the Seafire men. While the Seafires, 35% of the BPF’s aircraft, flew 51% of the offensive sorties during the final days of strikes against the Japanese mainland (in other words, the Seafires had been made to ‘work’ by men who knew the aircraft’s limitations), losses for this and previous actions were continuous and often attributed to some design ‘anomaly’ as opposed to pilot error or enemy action. Crosley, as squadron commander, maintained his good humour but it is clear from his writing that he felt some losses unnecessary. While this part of the book reveals a more or less effective BPF air component there is still much to improve on and Crosley is certainly not backwards in stating what the force’s shortcomings are/were. Cleverly, though, he retains most of this discussion for inclusion in the appendices thereby maintaining the lovely flow of his narrative.

At war’s end, the author spends some time flying Seafires in Australia before returning home, now single, and joining the Empire Test Pilots’ School at RAF Cranfield where “life became an adventure again.” Oh how I wish he had elaborated on that period of his life as well.

As you can see, TGMAS is absolutely full of, well, everything. It manages to cram the main narrative into just under 200 pages albeit with quite small text. Crosley has an unparalleled turn of phrase and the ability to describe humourous events without losing their affect. The ‘action’ or ‘at sea’ sequences make for riveting reading and in comparison the time spent ashore at various airfields can seem a little disjointed – perhaps an indication of the author trying to keep his anecdotes in some sort of logical order. These are still great fun to read though. The flying and operations all through the book have been covered before but perhaps not in such personal detail. The strikes on Norway, in particular, make for interesting reading if you’ve read about Coastal Command’s strikes against similar targets.

I would, however, perhaps have a grain of salt ready if you decide to take some of the biographical details as gospel. On page 100 I encountered an Australian pilot I had not heard of before - AJ 'Nat' Gould. He flew Hurricanes in Russia, flew with the RAAF at Milne Bay and joined the FAA at the end of the war which eventually led him to Korea (worthy of a book himself). I've glossed over his career somewhat but my light research revealed "Squadron Leader 'Nat' Gould, DFC, RAAF", as referred to in TGMAS, was not in Russia in March 1943. He had already served there and returned to Australia by March 1942. I have also been unable to confirm the DFC although he certainly did enough to warrant it. No doubt the author served with him in the FAA so, with regard to Gould's earlier career, Crosley's simply remembered it wrong. While you may wonder about some of the other details in the book - no one is infallible - make of it what you will as there are no glaring errors in the text that make you stop and think "What the...".

If you were to step back and look at the big picture after reading this book, what you’d find would be a first-hand account of the development of the FAA during the war. At the start of Crosley’s career it is little more than a sideline. However as our hero develops and progresses, so does the Fleet Air Arm until it becomes an effective – perhaps ever so slightly disorganised – and definitely underappreciated strike force that is perfectly established to make the most of the massive changes in naval aviation that followed the war years.

The main text is supported by 14 (yes, 14!) appendices covering 60 pages. Almost 20 of these pages cover “some of the problems” encountered with the Seafires. Even the RN’s failings during the Falklands War are examined in the context of lessons forgotten from 40 years earlier. While these appendices add valuable information to the book (naturally) the writing is of a different style – much more authoritative and technical and nowhere near as easy to read as the main text. As alluded to above leaving the majority of the technical ‘gumf’ to the appendices is an intelligent thing to do as it does not hamper the beautiful flow and rhythm of the narrative.

If I remember correctly, this is only the second FAA-based book I have read. The first was Charles Lamb’s (like a number of FAA 'legends' he has a cameo in TGMAS) magical War In A Stringbag. On the strength of these two titles I am certainly looking forward to reading more. TGMAS provides a fine mix of action, humour, colourful characters, wonderful flying and the requisite sadness that such adventure ultimately brings. Add to this an ongoing analysis of the wartime trials and tribulations of the Fleet Air Arm and you have a highly recommended must-read for anyone with just a passing interest in naval aviation.

As I mentioned above, I bought my copy of TGMAS from Naval & Military Press during one of their regular sales. A hardback of more than 260 pages its only failing is that the numerous photographs are printed on the same paper stock as the text so their reproduction is not as good as it could have been. It is, however, one of the best-looking books in my collection.

Reviewed copy published by Wrens Park Publishing in 2001. ISBN 0905-778-68-5

The SAAF at war

2010-01-09T16:47:00.007+11:00

Just received three books from South Africa:

1. The Aegean Pirates - The History of 15 Squadron SAAF in WW2 by Dr Stefaan Bouwer and Dr Gerald Thompson,

2. The Men Who Went To Warsaw by Lawrence Isemonger and

3. Springbok Fighter Victory - Volume One, East Africa, 1940-1941 by Michael Schoeman.

All three, especially TAP, are well-presented. TAP appears a most comprehensive effort at around 250 pages (A4 format) and is loaded with photos and even colour plates of the various colour schemes worn by the aircraft operated by the squadron (Ju 86, Battle, Blenheim, Bisley and Baltimores ... there's A LOT of Baltimore profiles). Superb stuff. I'll certainly be reviewing this book this year.

TMWWTW, which I keep calling The Men Who Flew To Warsaw, is Volume 12 of the African Aviation Series (SFV is Vol 11 but Vol 1 of, er, a series within a series) and I have yet to see a book that has more pics of RAF-style Libs in it (happy to be proven wrong!). The author was a member of 31 Squadron's ground crew and has written the book as a tribute to the men of the squadron particularly those who gave their lives trying to supply the Warsaw Uprising. The appendices are a joy to behold with details of crew and aircraft.

Finally, SFV (published in 2002) delves into a forgotten part of the air war on the African continent - East Africa. Active over Somalia, Abyssinia etc, the South Africans found their Furies (oh my!), Gauntlets, Gladiators and very early Hurricanes up against the slightly more modern Italian Air Force. Loaded with some amazing photos that most of us certainly won't have seen, this book also includes an appendix giving a brief service bio of each pilot who flew in the campaign. Pen and Sword published Air War In East Africa 1940-1941 (by Canwell and Sutherland) earlier last year and while this would no doubt include some of the detail in SFV it would certainly make a good companion for the South African book. Above all else it is very pleasing to see this much-neglected campaign, and the men involved, receive the attention it, and they, deserve.

If anyone can let me know of other books on the SAAF during the war I would be most grateful. These are the first ones in my collection. The above books were bought from the The Airforce Shop in SA - http://www.saairforce.co.za/shop/index.php

The They Gave Me A Seafire review is coming. Honestly!

The wait is almost over - The RAAF Hudson Story Book 2

2009-12-30T10:31:00.007+11:00

A short while ago I received news that David Vincent's second volume of The RAAF Hudson Story will be published in July 2010. Excellent news indeed and certainly waited for in excited anticipation.

The first book is superb. I have yet to do anything but reference it in parts but plan to have it reviewed in the first half of 2010. Mind you, at the rate I'm reading (or not reading) at present, it could be 2100 by the time I get to it!

Hope everyone had a good Christmas and is looking forward to the new year.

All the best

Andy

Holidaying On The Continent - Richard Munro

2009-11-26T21:31:00.008+11:00

Launched in October, this is the story of the author's father, Jim Munro, who was bomb aimer with 460 Squadron RAAF. Shot down by a night fighter over Berlin only Jim and two other crew members, all badly injured, survive and end up as POWs in Stalag IVB (will be interesting to compare his experiences to those of Gus Officer below). Published by Australian Military History Publications, you can be sure this is a story that needed to be told.

Holidaying On The Continent

Six O'Clock Diamond - Gus Officer

2009-11-25T17:36:00.013+11:00

This review has been a while coming for a variety of reasons including the usual excuse – I was busy (and, as I write this, no internet connection). Well, I was. However, more importantly, I admit I actually struggled to come up with a ‘theme’ for this review. For those of you who have read a number of my reviews either here on ABR or elsewhere you’ll know I try to give each review a theme or goal the respective book tries to meet. Besides not being able to give the review my full attention over the past month or so I couldn’t ‘pin’ anything on Gus Officer’s Six O’Clock Diamond – The Story of a Desert Harasser. Then it hit me. That was it. This book is what it says it is – the story of a flyer with 450 Squadron RAAF (The Desert Harassers). What you see is what you get … and that is the impression you get of Gus – open, honest, refreshing and just a little brash.

The first chapter is, as Gus’ son, John, told me, for the family. It details the extended Officer family heritage and, when you think about it, provides an idea, knowingly or not, of how many people could be affected through the loss of a family member fighting for his country. This opening is not the easiest to read as many names and family connections are mentioned and I have to admit I got lost on several occasions. What has to be remembered, though, is that Gus wrote his manuscript to record what he could of the family history and his wartime experiences. The record as it stands is invaluable.

Gus begins his service with the 4th Light Horse Regiment and very quickly we see his strong work ethic coupled with a rebellious streak that often came to the fore with respect to the privileges of rank. Finally getting his call up to the RAAF, Gus passes through ITS “reasonably well” before being posted to No. 5 EFTS Narromine to “start the flying game” in early 1941. Gus had a remarkable knack for names and he regularly rattles off the other chaps on the course which can lead to some interesting further research especially since he also provides occasional biographical details. Among the fairly standard hi-jinks you’d expect from lads in Tiger Moths, Gus manages to pass out of the course with a mark just short of an ‘above average’ rating. Moving on to Wirraways – clearly progressing down the fighter path – our hero completes numerous navigation exercises over country New South Wales. Many of his routes took him to/near towns I now live close to so being able to relate in that fashion was fascinating. Graduating as a sergeant – and noting some of the new officers in the course were no more qualified than him – Gus is packed off to the Middle East. Arriving in Egypt in October 1941 he is assigned to No. 71 OTU to fly Hurricanes.

Gus is quite critical of some of the ‘classist’ RAF types he meets but this is tempered by a veritable who’s who of the Desert Air Force many of whom he has the utmost respect for. He is also critical of some of the practices of the OTU but, all in all, he learns his craft as a fighter pilot … well, as much as an OTU can teach in clapped-out Hurricane Mk Is. He also manages, with a mate, to steal rations to supplement their meager diet and go absent without leave to visit his uncle in Gaza. Unfortunately, upon return, he realises he has missed a posting to an aircraft delivery unit and someone else has been sent in his place. A posting to the new air firing school at Bilbeis is quickly forthcoming in January ’42, however, and it is here Gus finds himself towing target drogues but still flying old Hurricanes – including a well-used Malta veteran. While he appreciates the accumulation of experience Gus is not a huge fan of target-towing and this is exacerbated after returning from a 48-hour leave (official) to find he’d again missed out on a posting. This time it was to an operational squadron. While life at Bilbeis was certainly eventful – and he made the most of it – Gus was understandably itching to get into the desert war.

A stint in Palestine and a return to Egypt, still flying Hurricanes for the various ‘schools’, eventually leads to a treasured posting to 450 Squadron RAAF and its Kittyhawks but not before attending his Harvard ‘conversion’ flight feeling ever so slightly the worse for wear from the night before – “In fact I was still drunk…”. Finally, in September 1942, after nine months in North Africa, Gus arrives at LG 91 and becomes a Desert Harasser.

Enjoying the ‘Pilots’ Mess’ – no separate sergeants’ and officers’ messes, an idea created by 3 Sqn RAAF that spread across the DAF – Gus settles into squadron life easily and is soon operational. His hours towing targets and his general natural flying ability come to the fore and he clearly fits in well – “My time with the squadron remains one of my life’s fondest memories.” He is heavily involved in bomber and fighter-bomber escort and also flies strafing and bombing sorties with the squadron.

However his time with 450 does not last long as he is shot down in early November – a promising operational career cut short. Wounded, and parachuting into the middle of a group of German soldiers, Gus is delivered to an Italian hospital tent at Mersa Matruh where, upon seeing the condition of his tent-mates, realises how lucky he was. Moving through a variety of lice-infested camps and POW ‘cages’, Gus and his fellow POWs (of who he provides wonderful detail) arrive in Tripoli for a fortnight before a harrowing journey to Naples in the hold of a ship. This is followed by a train ride – in cattle cars – to Bari on the Adriatic coast and ‘Campo Prigioneri di Guerra 75’.

Sadly, despite the privations of camp life, the officers and men are treated differently which justifiably makes Gus angry. While dealing with the terrible conditions and the rank ‘issue’ his injured leg and its regular swelling (resulting in hospital stays) typically rates hardly a mention.

Camp PG 85 becomes home in February 1943. Conditions are slightly improved but Gus and a mate decide to escape and steal an aircraft from a nearby airfield. They are re-captured after several days on the run. After the requisite time in the ‘cooler’ – shared with cheery South Africans – Gus moves onto Campo PG 57 north of Trieste. Here he finds many Australians and New Zealanders and camp life – well described - continues until the Italian surrender. Any hopes of freedom are quickly dashed when the Germans arrive and bundle the prisoners onto a train for a 10-day journey to Stalag IVB. There Gus stays until sometime in April 1945, after 906 days of captivity, the camp is liberated by Cossacks on horseback. His time in the German camp is a fairly standard account of life as a POW but it is full of a lot of detail of his fellow prisoners and their activities which makes for interesting reading.

With the Russians now manning the guard towers Gus and some other prisoners decide to head west. Their travels bear witness to the brutal Russian occupation, the utter destruction of German infrastructure and the complete desperation of the German people. They eventually meet up with some Americans and deftly avoid the transit camps full of ex-POWs before a Dakota flight gets them to France, a Norseman delivers them to the coast and another Dak delivers the former prisoners to England on May 10, 1945 – roughly two years and seven months after Gus was shot down. This is not the end of Gus’ travels though as he spends several months in the UK before returning to Australia. Happily, he settles into civilian life and works for a bank all over country Victoria while studying accountancy. Time away from family proves too much and, after a trying time working in Melbourne, Gus starts work with an accounting firm in Horsham in mid-1949 where his life, love and family blossoms.

I commented above that I struggled with the first chapter of this book. To be honest, and in keeping with the honesty displayed throughout the book, it took me a bit longer to get into. Early on I found myself cringing at some of the grammar. The style of writing also threw me but this was my, perhaps misguided, journalism training coming out in me. As I read deeper into the book I realised what the publishers (Gus’ sons) had done. They had taken the manuscript written by Gus and, as they mention in the book, given it a very occasional tweak. The end result is a book that has maintained the integrity of Gus’ writing and in doing so has provided the perfect record of his life. Gus pulls no punches and writes how he saw it. He is opinionated, at times disagreeable but always refreshingly open and honest. I don’t think I have a read a book that better paints a picture of a man. You come away from the book feeling as though you’ve just sat down to several beers with Gus and he’s done all the talking while you sat there letting your beer go warm.

SOCD is not high literature but, importantly, it doesn’t claim to be and was never intended to be so. It doesn’t need to be. It is out there and, like Gus, it will make an impression on you from the moment you start reading. Again like Gus, the book just gets down to business and tells it like it is/was.

This is a beautifully-presented book and with three sections of photos is well-illustrated. The appendices are very-readable and provide surprising detail about the day Gus was shot down. I have no idea if Woolhouse Press has or will publish further books but they’ve set a very high benchmark with SOCD.

I don’t know how well the book has sold but John Officer indicated in a recent phone call that they were very happy with the result and rightly so. A direct link to SOCD's website is accessible by clicking the cover in the right hand column of this page. Alternatively, just click here - Six O'Clock Diamond

Reviewed copy published by Woolhouse Press in 2008.
ISBN 978-0-646-50250-2

Hyland's Bookshop

2009-11-06T12:18:00.011+11:00

Neil and the team at Hyland's were always helpful and friendly when we lived in Melbourne and I had the chance to pop in. I also recently received two nice emails after ordering A.G. Dudgeon's The Luck Of The Devil (to accompany his Hidden Victory and Wings Over North Africa). I have not visited a more extensive collection of military books in Australia and their RAF and Commonwealth aircrew titles are a fine mix of new and older titles.

If you're hunting books that are perhaps hard-to-get or are just after the latest from your favourite military publishers or authors, I recommend keeping Hyland's in mind. You can also search their catalogue online:

Hyland's Bookshop

Bomber Barron - NOV 5: NOW ON SALE!

2009-10-19T18:04:00.023+11:00

New Zealand author Richard Stowers, author of Bloody Gallipoli and Waikato Troopers, has just released his new book about Wing Commander Fraser Barron. Barron flew 79 raids over Europe before his death in a collision over Le Mans, France, in May 1944. His stellar wartime career saw him rise from Sergeant to Wing Commander and receive his multiple honours in just three years of service.

Fraser was an outstanding bomber captain whose skill, bravery, determination and complete disregard for his personal safety were paramount. He was one of those young airmen who never showed fear and didn't know when to call it quits.

The book consists of 156 pages in a landscape format with more than 80 photographs and illustrations. Available direct from the author Bomber Barron is NZ$35 plus NZ$4 postage within New Zealand or NZ$15 for airmail to Australia. Please contact Richard via his website for postage charges to other countries - www.richardstowers.co.nz

Under A Bomber's Moon

2009-10-14T11:35:00.008+11:00

A new release from Exisle Publishing this book takes the reader to the deadly night skies over Germany as experienced by a Kiwi navigator and a German night fighter pilot. Well worth a look if you're after something new and beyond the norm.

Exisle Publishing - Under A Bomber's Moon

Chasing Shadows - Stephen Lewis with Bob Cowper

2009-10-09T17:01:00.011+11:00

There’s something to be said about being different. Do it well and you’re hailed as a visionary. Do it badly and, well, it all falls in a heap and is appreciated by very few for the brave attempt it was. There’s nothing wrong with being different at all but it is a particular risk if you are doing it commercially. Will it work? This was my first impression of Chasing Shadows when it arrived in the mail. At first glance it is immediately different – not the ‘expected’ paperback dimensions at all. However that’s where any fleeting doubts vanish because once you open this book you’ll see it’s not just the dimensions that are different – everything is handled with a fresh approach … and it works.

The subject is at once intriguing. A good-looking Australian night fighter ace who crashes in the desert but goes on to fly Beaufighters and Mosquitos with considerable success while twice being awarded the DFC, marrying his sweetheart and earning the right to be a member of the Late Arrivals and Caterpillar clubs. Such a story deserves to be told and told well. Fortunately, this Lewis/Cowper collaboration does just that.

The young Bob Cowper grows up in semi-rural South Australia and has a fairly typical childhood for the time. He leaves school at 16 but joins the RAAF on his eighteenth birthday. With initial training completed in Western Australia, he sails to Canada where he learns to fly the Harvard before becoming a Pilot Officer at 19 and joining 60 OTU at East Fortune in Scotland. We find him in late 1941 flying Defiants before his first operational posting to Ballyhalbert, Northern Ireland with 153 Squadron. He is perhaps lucky to achieve this ‘quiet’ posting rather than a baptism of fire as he has the chance to hone his flying skills – skills he will very much have to call upon in the years to come. Fortunately the squadron is re-equipped with Beaufighters and one F/S Bill Watson arrives to replace Bob’s Defiant gunner. The chemistry is immediately obvious. Watson, older, agreeable in nature but with sharp opinions in debate becomes the source of much hilarity throughout the book and the strength of his character is conveyed very well.

The other major relationship Bob develops during his time in Northern Ireland is with his future wife Kay. Seeing her ‘Australia’ shoulder flash in the Ballyhalbert Ops room, he introduces himself with a “Hello Australia” … and draws a shy response. He persists and romance blossoms. He does, however, have a hard time meeting her friends as Watson would regularly ‘brief’ him on his various conquests of said girls!

Yearning for something worthwhile to do to assist the war effort – “Nothing’s bloody well happened again” – the Beaufighter crew volunteer for a Malta posting which they are subsequently offered. The January 1943 flight is uneventful until leaving Gibraltar supplied with incorrect headings and drift calculations. Unable to work out their actual drift due to heavy cloud, the boys become hopelessly lost before force-landing in the Sahara. Forced to burn everything they can't carry they begin to walk to friendly territory. On the way they ‘collect’ a couple of ‘Arabs’ (dubbed “new friend with gun” and “new friend with bloody big sword”) who at first follow them and then engage them with rifle fire before finding the boys’ discarded cigarettes and realising they are “Englessi”. Here, despite the desperate situation they find themselves in, Watson is at his humourous best and the intelligence and good-nature of the two airmen win the desert people over.

When they finally arrive in Malta, it doesn’t take the Bob and Watson long to open their account in the night skies over the island. Island life and its hardships are well described. Barely six months after his desert escapade Bob, flying with another observer due to Watson being sick, shoots down a Ju88 which explodes and takes the Beau with it. The observer, P/O AW Farquharson DFM, is killed and Bob, at 21 years old, barely makes it out of the doomed aircraft. Picked up by a hospital ship the next day, he returns to active flying six nights later but suffers recurring problems from his rapid exit from the disintegrating Beaufighter.

The pair return to the UK in August of 1943 having well and truly earned their rest tour. Bob’s input to the text of the book is valuable and the detail he provides combines well with Stephen’s ability to blend everything together to form a seamless timeline. Case-in-point – training new pilots on Merlin-powered Beaufighter Mk IIs. There is barely any rest during this posting and it reads as well as the ‘action’ sequences with Stephen working together flying, marriage, parties and hi-jinks to create perhaps the best account of a rest tour I have come across.

This is all foundation though because Cowper and Watson are reunited with a posting to 456 Squadron RAAF in May 1944. The experienced crew must have been a godsend as the squadron re-equipped with Mosquitos and worked up for the Normandy invasion. This was to be an interesting time for the squadron. D-Day onwards was a stellar period for 456 – particularly for the Cowper crew – despite being commanded by an Australian Wing Commander who, while successful in his leadershp, was a bit too ‘gung-ho’ for everyone’s liking. Immense detail is provided of Cowper and Watson’s successes with combat reports and logbook extracts being provided (more on the illustrations later).

At 22, Bob becomes a father in November 1944 soon after returning from a terrible night’s flying over Arnhem – a flight that shook the experienced crew to the core. Bob is tired from a long war but his little family brings him joy even on the coldest days when the bitter cold in their tiny house freezes the pipes and turns the clothes on the line to ice. He continues flying intruder trips over Germany but the war’s end brings frustration at not being able to return to Australia and, when finally being able to travel, having to do so separately to his girls.

As in war, peace brings success for Bob and Kay. The grow their family and prove handy cattle breeders and racehorse owners. Happily, Bill Watson is not forgotten and his tumultuous post-war years are well-documented and match the long years of peace the Cowpers experience.

Chasing Shadows uses a very effective literary device in its first chapter – the detailing of an exciting/harrowing experience in Bob’s flying career. This really draws the reader in. Tim Vigors uses it well in his book Life’s Too Short To Cry when he opens his story by baling out of his burning Buffalo – the end of his operational flying career. Stephen begins CS with the Sahara forced-landing and, through the beautiful use of language, captures exactly what I imagine it must have been like to be lost over a dark sea and with fuel rapidly diminishing - the self-doubting begins, smooth running engines suddenly sound a bit rough, pinpricks of light are beacons of hope and the fuel gauge seems to drop like a stone. Admittedly, Stephen had Bob handy to recount this episode in detail but to put it down on paper effectively and generate trepidation in the reader is truly something else. Fortunately, the writing continues at this level throughout and is well-supported.

Well-supported? Indeed. The use of illustrations in CS extends beyond the ‘simple’ use of relevant photos of aircraft, the Cowpers, Watson and related subjects. The effort has been made to include black-and-white maps and photos of memorabilia like forage caps, medals, documents, period advertisements, newspaper clippings, badges and even telegrams. The collection included within the pages of CS is superb. There is not a two-page spread throughout the book that is not illustrated in some way. Further detail is provided by separate paragraphs or pages which provide context or an interesting biography of a person featured in the text. These ‘sidebars’ do not interrupt the flow of the main body of text but they certainly add to the overall story. I found myself unable to pass them up until the end of each chapter so my reading of the main text had regular ‘interruptions’. A more disciplined reader will find the text flows nicely!

Stephen Lewis runs a publishing company in Adelaide and has made a fine effort at writing and presenting the story of Bob Cowper. We can be grateful he took the time to produce this outstanding piece of work and we can be grateful Bob saw fit to tell his story. So many of his colleagues never did.

This book was sent to me as a review copy signed by Stephen and Bob. It is a thick 160+ pages long and is finished most attractively. The only thing I will mention with regard to its production is that the inside-front and inside-back covers are brown and face white pages. I have found, possibly due to our recent move, that the brown has transferred/rubbed onto the white pages in places so I strongly recommend you place a piece of paper between the two to prevent this happening. It takes nothing away from the book itself but if you like to look after your books like me…

CS is available from Stephen’s printing business. See the ad in the right margin of ABR or click on the following – Chasing Shadows.

Reviewed copy published by Digital Print Australia in 2007.
ISBN 1-921207-15-9

Jack Davenport, Beaufighter Leader - Kristen Alexander

2009-09-08T17:18:00.011+10:00

If you ever get into collecting sooner or later you’ll end up with favourite works or examples of a genre. My book collection, while not layered with rare first editions, extends beyond aviation. Naturally I have my favourite fiction authors and avidly await their next instalments. Looking over my shelves as I type this I can see numerous books by Clive Cussler, Tom Clancy, Jack Du Brul, Alexander Fullerton, Patrick O’Brian, Douglas Reeman, Patrick Robinson etc etc. My wife, a much faster reader than me, is building her numbers of Kathy Reichs, Di Morrissey and Jodi Picoult, among others. The same applies to our non-fiction titles, namely the aviation ones. Over the years, I’ve developed small piles of Brian Cull, Steve Darlow, Lex McAulay and Mark Lax to name a few and am always excited to hear of new titles being published. To this list of favourite authors I can now add Kristen Alexander. With the release of her second book, Jack Davenport, Beaufighter Leader, Kristen has firmly established herself as a quality writer shedding new light on the exploits of Australian wartime airmen.

Jack Davenport had a childhood in country and metropolitan New South Wales that is largely familiar to the men who fought in the Second World War. Living through the Depression, the Davenport family was perhaps more unfortunate financially than the norm with bailiffs making their entrance on more than one occasion and numerous changes of address before things began to settle down in the second half of the 1930s. A natural athlete and a good student through sheer determination, Jack’s leadership ability begins to appear when he is made class prefect. His ambition and application sees steady progress within the ranks of the Commonwealth Bank and he readily accepts additional responsibility while in the militia. Joining the RAAF, he is initially mustered as an observer but is told if he does well he will be reassigned for pilot training. The Davenport determination steps in once again and Jack graduates first in his course … and then goes flying.

Now, you’d assume any young bloke learning to fly would want to progress to fighters right? Perhaps, but not Jack. Modestly claiming he ‘scraped’ through Tiger Moths with a first-in-class pass of 88 per cent, Jack is chasing a challenge and succeeds in being assigned to multi-engined training. Being responsible for other people beyond himself appeals to Jack and this theme, which first appeared at school, continues throughout the book. There is a reason why ‘Leader’ is mentioned in the title!

Anyway, training on Ansons in Canada follows where Jack is again recognised for his leadership abilities and also begins his passion for helping the community. Arriving in England and making the most of the requisite stay in Bournemouth, Jack is posted to 14 OTU for conversion to Hampdens. A woefully inadequate aircraft for bombing mainland Europe, the Hampden was filling the gaps in Bomber Command while the squadrons waited for large numbers of the new heavies – Stirlings, Halifaxes and Lancasters. Inadequate as she may have been, there wasn’t time to wait for something better. Besides, Jack was one of many fine men who flew her and was able to get the best out of the Hampden. With less than 19 hours on type – and an almost fatal spin in which Jack ordered the crew to bale out but stayed with the aircraft when he realised his navigator had not heard the message – Jack and his crew are assigned to 455 Squadron RAAF.

Jack’s beginnings with Bomber Command are not the greatest but the ‘sprog’ pilot with the ‘sprog’ crew soon gains in confidence and experience and his skill as a pilot is evident. After several ‘shaky dos’ they are perhaps lucky when 455 Squadron is transferred to Coastal Command – lucky in terms of the enforced rest and removal from the Ruhr’s defences as opposed to a lucky transfer. What lies ahead for Jack and his colleagues is torpedo training and the risky operations any torpedo crew will of course face. 455 doesn’t have long to perfect its new-found abilities before it, in conjunction with 144 Squadron RAF, is ordered to Russia to help defend the Arctic convoys. Now a senior pilot with the squadron, Jack’s experiences traveling to, and serving in, Russia are eye-opening and a very valuable record. While not much was achieved militarily, these flights to Russia will forever be remembered.

Returning from Russia in January 1943, Jack meets his future wife which adds another ‘angle’ to the unfolding story. Flying continues with Jack leading detachments and commanding the squadron as needed (getting a taste for command while the current CO is hospitalised). In a very short time, he had come a long way. With the loss of close friends and because of his senior position, Jack struggles to write letters to the next-of-kin. He feels the loss of his friends and colleagues keenly and, through happy (for want of a better word) circumstance, is able to commemorate those lost with a moving ceremony at the Dundee War Memorial – a ceremony that is still fondly remembered. This is a most moving part of the book and the culmination of a chapter that analyses Jack’s growth as a leader.

Tour-expired, Jack instructs at 1 Torpedo Training Unit where he has an instrumental effect on lowering the accident rate – another example of him taking an innate interest in the men under his command. Now Acting Squadron Leader Jack Davenport DFC, and with more time on his hands, his romantic life comes to the fore and his relationship with one Sheila McDavid grows ever stronger. A proposal is accepted and arrangements made. A posting to command 455 Squadron arrives and the Beaufighter makes its entrance en force.

You get the feeling Jack’s first tour is almost ‘marking time’. It is the foundation for which everything is built on and pales in comparison to what is accomplished during Jack’s second tour – even with the trip to Russia. Rated as exceptional by 1TTU and at just 23 taking command of 455, Jack, like his beloved squadron, comes of age. Re-equipping with Beaufighters, the squadron is a mix of experienced anti-shipping types (particularly the two excellent flight commanders Lloyd Wiggins and Colin Milson) and new boys but Jack and his flight commanders work hard to instill discipline and professionalism into the crews and, in the end, this pays off with the Leuchars Strike Wing (455 with 489 Sqn RNZAF) earning an enviable reputation among the labyrinthine Norwegian fjords. Never one to rest on his laurels, Jack, while bedding in the ‘new’ 455, marries Sheila. This is where the author’s writing shines. She gives the wedding ceremony and anecdotes from the honeymoon (low-flying mice on nuisance raids) as much importance as Jack’s military achievements. This firmly rounds out the understanding of the man, his life and character.

With 455 operational again, the Beaufighter crews waste no time getting among the enemy shipping. The attacks are well documented and largely successful although not without some controversy which is well-handled by the author (friendly fire). Importantly, Jack’s role in the development of rocket attack tactics against surface vessels is well-documented. Really, a better pilot could not have been chosen – the consummate professional always keen to improve his already considerable abilities. As always during this frenetic time (before and after the invasion of Europe), Jack is close to his crews and well respected in return. The inevitable losses are moving and Jack’s efforts to rescue a colleague and subsequently earn the George Medal are told with typical detail and just a hint of modesty – a reflection of the man himself.

The ace ship-buster’s success and influence on anti-shipping tactics led to a role as operations planner for the Group, a role he took on with typical dedication and care for those he was sending into the cauldron. War’s end sees his eventual return to Australia where the now young family settled and Jack began his work in industry. Applying the same drive and ability as he had shown in the service, Jack became one of Australia’s most respected business leaders – his achievements in industry perhaps only equaled by his commitment to his family and the greater community. His passing left a void that could never really be filled. He was mourned by several generations of Australians many of whom had the privilege of knowing a truly great man.

I mentioned in the review for Kristen’s first book, Clive Caldwell, Air Ace, that the author had developed a style capable of providing immense detail in a very readable way. I also commented how well I thought this style could be applied to a lesser-known personality. Happily, my guess was correct. This book is so easy to read - devour - and yet, as you can see from the ‘summary’ above, there is so much going on and so much to get across that it could easily have come off the rails. That it didn’t is testament to Kristen’s ability to keep a tight rein on everything – operations, Jack’s character, romance, the context of the conflict. Despite one technical detail hiccup, the writing is precise and Kristen has certainly found a style that not only conveys her research (again, great endnotes and variety of sources) but also makes it easy for a wider audience to be drawn into the world of Jack Davenport.

This book will appeal to aviation historians and enthusiasts keen to learn about 455 Squadron, its members and the Davenport family (Jack had two brothers who also flew … there’s a story in itself) as much as it will attract a more general audience of readers looking for a bit of realistic adventure. With an excellent cover typical of A&U (how often do you see a Hampden on the cover?) and three sections of brilliant photos this is a well-presented book and the perfect way to honour one of our great leaders.

I noted with some surprise a quote from Sir Arvi Parbo - patriarch of the Australia's modern mining industry - on the back cover. I met Sir Arvi in the late '80s when he was Chairman (or equivalent) of Western Mining Corporation of which my Dad was a senior geologist. At the time, of course, being 11 or 12 years old, I was only just getting into the aviation of the war and it would be years before I heard of Jack Davenport. The fact that I met and admired someone who knew him has, as I hint at above, only just come to my attention and I can't help but wonder what Sir Arvi might have thought if he knew the little kid in front of him was into aeroplanes from, then, forty years ago.

I was sent this book as a review copy but due to the move etc, have only just been able to sit down to write this review. JDBL can be purchased direct from the author at Alexander Fax Books or is easily available online from a variety of sources. Do yourself a favour and invest in a copy. You will not be disappointed.

Reviewed copy published by Allen & Unwin in 2009.
ISBN 978--775-776-7