24 August 2026

Nose Art of the Fifth Air Force - David Vincent

 


Every now and then, as you know, I'll feature something here that is somewhat adjacent to the RAF and Commonwealth aircrew experience during the Second World War. Case in point, the latest massive work from David Vincent, the Australian historian responsible for Catalina Chronicle, Mosquito Monograph and, of course, one of the most important Australian aviation works, The RAAF Hudson Story (Volumes 1 and 2). The Fifth Air Force grew out of the ashes of the Far East Air Force, setting up its headquarters in Australia in early 1942. At the end of a long, and sometimes threatened, supply chain, it eventually grew into the powerful air force we are most familiar with, perhaps best known for its jungle fighters and low-level strafers. A number of Australian aircrew did, however, fly with the American units to help fill shortfalls in gunners and copilots, for example (they have been sadly underappreciated and unacknowledged over the decades since the war, but that is a different story currently being addressed). 

As the Fifth's units expanded, and the Allies progressively went on the front foot, so too did the American servicemen's ability to decorate their aircraft with more and more extensive artwork, the most famous of which, of course, is featured on the front cover of Nose Art of the Fifth Air Force, a book that is phenomenal, massive, authoritative and peerless.

More than just a collection of photos and captions, the author has explored the origins and evolution of nose art within the Fifth Air Force. He applies this approach to popular designs across multiple airframes/units/periods but also how a piece of art changed on an airframe, sometimes evolving with a change of regular crew or crew chief, modifications necessitated by damage or new equipment, or even being completely replaced. Threads have been pulled and rabbit holes followed since he began collecting Fifth Air Force images in the early 2000s (more than 1,100 feature in the book).

As a book on artwork, the human element has not been forgotten with several of the better-known artists profiled. Here, too, are nice personal details with quotes from the men themselves or family members.

It's the analysis that surprised me the most, though. I should have known, given the author's work on the benchmark-setting and aforementioned RAAF Hudson volumes; he gets beneath the skin (pun intended) of where this art came from, why it was used, what it meant and its impact over the decades. This is an art gallery and historical document you can hold in your hands (briefly, as it's bloody heavy!).

ISBN 978-0-76436-921-6

07 August 2026

Blood, Sweat and Esprit de Corps - Steve Brew

 

Epic. Grandiose. Peerless. Exhaustive. Brick. Mention a Steve Brew No. 41 Squadron history and these are just some of the words a reader may offer to describe the depth of work this author is known for. With the effort to produce Blood, Sweat and Valour (2012) and Blood, Sweat and Courage (2014), you’d think that’d be enough, particularly as the periods covered by those two books are arguably the most intensive period of extended operations the unit will ever see (let’s hope it remains that way). However, even I’ll admit not everything is about the Second World War and its aircrew. For at least the past decade, besides the release of A Ruddy Awful Waste in 2016, and no doubt long before, Steve Brew has been turning over every rock to produce the ‘prequel’ to the two wartime volumes. It’s equally as impressive. Reinforce your shelves.

Having spent the final two years of the First World War in France, the squadron, along with many others, fell to the rapid demobilisation of the armed forces and disbanded at the end of 1919. Where Blood, Sweat and Esprit de Corps picks up the story is in 1923, when the unit reforms at RAF Northolt with, mainly, Sopwith Snipes. The Royal Air Force is five years old and despite beginning what would be almost two decades of continuous peacetime growth, it continued to fight off the older Services that saw the ‘the third brother’ as a drain on resources they could otherwise employ.

Much like post-Second World War aviation, in which aircraft seemed to come and go in military service at the drop of a hat, such were the advances in technology at the time, so to was the inter-war period, although 41 Squadron’s Snipes quickly gave way to Armstrong Whitworth Siskins which hung around until 1931. Although other types were briefly tested, the Siskins stayed on and it was perhaps the familiarity with the type that saw the unit excel at the various competitions, pageants and air displays that consumed the limited flying hours available outside of the requisite exercises, etc. Aviation was very much the cutting edge of technology at the time and everyone, from the man on the street to royalty, wanted to experience it.

The ‘novelty’ of aviation, even within the Services, is further highlighted by the author in a most interesting way. Such is the breadth of the research that statistics like injuries and deaths caused by aircraft on the ground are collated and presented as graphs and tables. It is enlightening to see that, as awareness of the dangers, and perhaps a developed culture of ‘airmindedness’, becomes widespread within the air force, casualties reduce (relatively speaking). The death toll of personnel across the board is, at times, shocking and certainly something that would not be accepted today. While this type of reporting looks at the RAF as a whole, it serves to place 41 Squadron in context, rather than focus on the unit in isolation. Indeed, under the microscope, the growing pains of the RAF are reflected in the examination of this one unit.

The 1920s and early 1930s were still influenced by the First World War. The experienced men, particularly early on, had seen combat service, and the aircraft remained open-cockpit biplanes. It was not until the arrival of the Spitfire in late 1938, as Britain continued its mad scramble to rearm, that 41 Squadron operated a monoplane. At times the flying, particularly in the late ’20s and early ’30s as the purse strings loosened, takes on the feel of a flying club with individual pilots representing the squadron in civil competitions, some even returning the following year to defend their title. The underlying theme, however, is the pursuit of excellence, partly why these competitions were attended in the first place. Despite the obsolete aircraft and, for a period, the pervading drive for austerity, 41 Squadron stretches itself, be it as part of tactically hamstrung exercises or as a reliable component of the latest air-defence reorganisation. Regular reunions of current and former squadron members also serve to build a legacy, a foundation. Indeed, the period covered by Blood, Sweat and Esprit de Corps produced more than twenty 41 Squadron alumni whose careers took them to air commodore or beyond.

The knowledge of where personnel went after their time with 41 Squadron is one of the great aspects of this book. It is, in fact, my favourite. As the author works through the various chunks of time he’s broken the inter-war period into, personnel arrivals and departures obviously play a major part. The experiences of those departing range from leaving the RAF altogether to spending the rest of their working lives in the Service, and everything in between. For some, their legacy is tangible as, upon their departure, they presented the squadron with an engraved gift, most likely of silverplate. Many of these remain in the unit’s care.

It is this commitment to the personnel of the squadron, even after they leave, that takes this unit history beyond ‘high-level’ works that pass as the norm for this type of book. If the reader wants to learn about a specific person who served during the period covered in Blood, Sweat and Esprit de Corps, not only will they find a potted history of their service career, they will also be able to understand what was happening at the time, i.e., where the RAF was at in its evolution, 41 Squadron’s part of it and the day-to-day challenges of squadron life.

As a further example of going where no one else has gone before with unit histories, there is a table recording tests performed by the RAF medical lab in Aden, when the squadron was overseas for its one and only peacetime deployment. Something like this helps the understanding of what serving in Aden (1935–36 during the Abyssinian Crisis) was like at the time, adding flesh to the airframe and flying bones underpinning the usual squadron history.

There are gems of detail at the turn of every page, not least in the copious amount of images. It would be hard to believe there are any relevant images that have not been included in the book, such is their number. Hats off to the publisher for their inclusion; photos, after, all, take up space and therefore cost money. However, the publisher is also responsible for the only failing of this seminal work of research endeavour. Every single image has been ‘washed’ through editing software, with control given over to artificial intelligence. This has benefited some images but, sadly, has added incorrect, misleading and, in some cases, abhorrent details to many. The publisher should hang their head in shame. It is the poorest result of period image manipulation I have seen; whoever was involved has no idea of anything regarding the RAF. My heart aches for the author who, so clearly focused on getting the words right when reviewing proofs, expected the publisher to handle the images, all of which were provided in good faith.

Such is the strength of the writing, however, that I chose to ignore the images where possible, casting a sideways glance at times to see if they were ‘safe’. More than 400 pages of historical narrative are supported by ten appendices (mostly expected stats like aircraft, roll of honour, etc.), taking the page count to just short of 700. A favourite is the final appendix of ‘Statistical Data’, detailing where pilots came from, their causes of death, officer–non-commissioned officer ratio, mode of entry into the service, Service education, medal recipients, ranks achieved, duration of aircraft in service across the entire RAF, etc., etc., etc. Throw in the usual endpapers – notes, references, glossary, and the like – and you’re left with a book of over 770 pages. Yes, it’s big, but it never reads ‘heavy’.

The use of technology, problematic elsewhere, does, however, enhance the adventure of reading Blood, Sweat and Esprit de Corps. The author goes to great pains to refer the reader to Pathé film reels, many of which were hard to source as accessible (and active) links. Being able to watch the squadron in action, in the context of what’s just been read, adds a value not experienced before. It is particularly eye-opening to see aircraft of the period being flown at their limit, something certainly not seen today.

This is not your ordinary squadron history, but it is typical Steve Brew. The reader is not left wondering about some aspect of the unit’s history during the period covered as it is dealt with, be it at a personnel, squadron, Service or national level. You know where 41 Squadron sits in the big picture, you understand its occasional tenuous survival in the face of fiscal strain, but also its vital part in the foundation of the RAF’s developing air-power strategies and eventual rearmament. More importantly, the people who pass through are not just names, ranks and numbers. They are the squadron; their struggles and triumphs on the crest of the wave, at the tip of the spear, as eyewitnesses to the evolution of military aviation in Britain, are the beating heart of this book.

Reinforce your shelves.

ISBN 978-1-80420-062-9