Anthony Cooper's latest cover released

 

Several years after his myth-busting Paddy Finucane and the Legend of the Kenley Wing, the next instalment of Anthony Cooper's Australian aircrew books is finally, almost, with us! 

 

Anthony is perhaps best known for his superb Darwin Spitfires. He followed that book with Kokoda Air Strikes and RAAF Bombers over Germany 1941-42 and the aforementioned Kenley Wing title. This new book continues his look at where Australian aircrew were around the world during 1942, when our UK-based Spitfire squadrons were ordered home to defend northern Australia from Japanese air raids.

 

Cooper is an erudite type with a fine analytical mind and a penchant for not accepting things at face value. This approach was most evident with Darwin Spitfires, revealing the moderate successes of the squadrons (as opposed to the raging, almost colloquially so, success that is often repeated) in the face of technical, tactical and logistical deficiencies, and Kenley Wing, again proving all was not as was flagrantly reported and recorded to become legend. It must be noted there is never a lack of respect in these exceedingly well-written narratives, but the discussion is always frank and fair. There is no doubt the same will apply to Sub Hunters.

 

While not so much the stuff of repeated exaggeration, the Australian Sunderlands have not had anything written about them to this extent, excluding a couple of memoirs, since Norman Ashworth's The ANZAC Squadron (about 461 Squadron). The most prevalent story, besides one Sunderland versus eight Ju88s for example, is, of course, the sinking of U-boat U-461 by Dudley Marrows and his crew (flying Sunderland 'U' from 461 Squadron). There is so much more to the two squadrons (10 and 461) than these events. Anthony Cooper's intimate knowledge of the German language will have no doubt been put to good use examining records of such Luftwaffe heavy fighter encounters with the Sunderlands over the Bay of Biscay. 

 

Besides the finely crafted narrative, this Fonthill publication includes a rare thing in this publisher's catalogue of aircrew books - an index! It's the type of book that certainly needs one so it is pleasing to see space was allowed to include it. 

 

Coastal Command is not something I get to write about too often in the context of Aircrew Book Review. I am over the moon I get to now (and again in the future) and that it's from the pen of Anthony Cooper. Alongside the recent announcement of David Hobbs' latest book, we have another much anticipated literary highpoint for a rather challenging year.

 

Andy Wright

Just As It Happened - Merv Pike

Sing this to the tune of the Christmas song ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’: “It’s a most Sunderland-y time of the year (so far)”. This year has seen me, from a Short Sunderland point of view, make discoveries, acquire a holy grail and, embarrassingly, be the recipient of the utmost generosity. Both Alan Deller’s The Kid Glove Pilot and Guy Warner’s We Search Far (230 Squadron) were new to me and, weirdly, both published by Colourpoint. The latter also sees funds go to the squadron association so everyone is happy. The holy grail was Tom Docherty’s Hunt Like a Tiger (another 230 Squadron book). Always ridiculously priced, I had all but given up finding a copy until I made contact with Tom and bought it direct. Finally, a paperback copy of one of the hardest Sunderland books to find these days, Ivan Southall’s classic They Shall Not Pass Unseen, was gifted to me for safe keeping. It’s the first copy I’ve ever seen in the flesh and I’m sure I hear triumphant trumpets playing when I look at it. Into this mix of superb titles, comes another new discovery. Merv Pike’s memoir has been around for more than a decade now. Short Sunderland aircrew memoirs aren’t exactly common, and RAAF ones rarer still. Like its author, it’s honest, humble and bears little in the way of airs and graces.

There is not much of a pre-war preamble detailing the author’s childhood, so the reader is thrust straight into Pike’s eighteen months in the Army and an immediate indication of his character – what will be, will be. Transferring to the RAAF, he applies himself to any task at hand to the best of his abilities, but remains open to other opportunities should he fail the pilot’s course (committed to doing his bit). This endearing attitude, combined with no inflated importance regarding his obvious skills and abilities, is maintained throughout. Pike completed his flying training in Australia, on Tiger Moths and Ansons, before crossing the Pacific to the US, on the way to the UK, where he eventually joined 461 Squadron RAAF. He followed the usual path to Sunderland captain to the extent he flew as second pilot etc with a crew, but, rather than eventually becoming that crew’s new captain, he was sent on his skipper’s course with a new crew (and then spent nine months with them).

The transition to the Sunderland, vastly larger than anything he had flown before (or perhaps even seen), still had the author in awe when he wrote the book. It is completely understandable and the cover image perfectly conveys the size of the aircraft. There is mention of completing a radar course in a Wellington (part of his role as a pilot in a Sunderland crew was to rotate through the radar operator role during an op), but it is unclear whether this was attended before Pike’s introduction to the big flying boat. Either way, his passion for the Sunderland is palpable and, after more than 1300 hours on the type, he certainly knows what he’s talking about.

Besides the flying time mentioned in passing (Pike is self-effacing and spends more time heaping praise on his colleagues), there is also a brief mention of him having flown 32 ops by the time of his wedding in late July 1944. Seeing out the end of the war, and not returning to Australia until sailing from the UK in September 1945, means he was a phenomenally experienced airman. That’s what makes Just As It Happened all the more valuable. Any discussion about 461 Squadron inevitably includes the late, great Dudley Marrows, his success against U-461, the coincidences involved in that action, and the subsequent post-war meeting of U-boat and Sunderland captains. In Merv Pike we have another 461 pilot who certainly did his fair share, another angle, one of the many as it were. His book adds further depth to our understanding of the Australian Sunderland crew experience (in the same breath, I must also mention Phil Davenport’s Hurrah for the Next Man). 

It’s the wrong word, but the narrative suffers from the post-war loss of the author’s logbook, ironically to water damage. It therefore largely relies on fairly detailed memories that are not, naturally, a comprehensive record of service, but the closest there ever will be. To that extent, events are recounted sequentially, but the author allows himself the freedom to detail something as it comes to him. The genesis of the book was a request from a high school, and that does show in the style somewhat, but, in doing so, the life and challenges of a Sunderland pilot (long hours, terrible weather, the unforgiving ocean, the enemy), and the part ‘lady luck’ played, are laid bare. Pike is particularly reflective on his good fortune, detailing a flight up the Gironde Estuary (southwest France), following a Bay of Biscay night patrol, in daylight to look for a German warship. You can see him still shaking his head, at how they made it home, as he wrote about that particular op (during which they also happened upon a crash-diving U-boat). It is one of the few ops written about in any detail so is clearly, and obviously, a standout among the many patrols he flew. There is also some important introspection about dealing with loss and continuing on, something we need to remember especially with regard to these men bearing such things for decades after the war. The reflection continues in the final few chapters as the author summarises his service and then looks at his post-war life, during which he and his wife made several wise real estate decisions to settle on a family home, including following up on business opportunities that led to a well-earned retirement.

A small, solid paperback of 220-plus pages, the interior layout contributes to a lot of wasted white space, but it is very neat. The narrative, though, does need a tidy up to tighten it and remove errors without losing the author’s voice. Among various spelling typos and the like, ‘aerolons’ appears several times when the reference is clearly to the machine’s ailerons. A few facts, such as the number of surviving Sunderlands (none left per page 184, but this perhaps refers to Australian museums only), and a few statements included in the W.W.II introductory summary, also need to be reviewed and refined. Admittedly, however, the reader is ‘here’ for the memories of flying with Coastal Command, not a proper history lesson, but correcting such things is what editors are for. Many of the sourced images (i.e. not from the author’s collection) in the reviewed edition appear to have been acquired, perhaps downloaded, as low-resolution copies so have reproduced so poorly they add nothing. Removing these altogether, or obtaining better replacements, would be a vast improvement. All other photographs included are printed on the same paper stock as the text and are spread throughout the book. The moustachioed Pike, cap at a rakish angle, looks quite the character − a fine mix of joie de vivre and the utmost professionalism. 

Every one of my reading sessions ended reluctantly, but with the glow of looking forward to the next one. Just As It Happened is one of those books that reminds the reader how lucky he or she is to have such a window into a man’s life, or part thereof. Like this review, it is not a finely polished piece of writing. It is, however, honest and written by a classic quiet achiever. Not since Dick Dakeyne’s Radar Gunner has an Australian aircrew memoir captured my attention to this extent. Take a bow, Merv Pike.

ISBN 978-1-87687-013-3

Hurrah For The Next Man - Phil Davenport

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