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

An Expendable Squadron - Roy Conyers Nesbit

The RAF Beaufort squadrons have always been a bit overshadowed by the likes of Fighter and Bomber Command. Coastal Command was, after all, not called the ‘Cinderella Service’ for nothing. There was always one author who could always be counted on to right this wrong, however, and, with An Expendable Squadron, Roy Conyers Nesbit does it again. Sadly, this is his last book as he died several months before it was published.

Number 217 Squadron flew its first operations with Ansons and gamely flew ‘general reconnaissance’ flights (convoy patrols etc) until late December 1940 despite having been equipped with the new Beaufort more than six months previously. The Bristol aircraft was a far more modern beast than its predecessor, but, early on, it was hamstrung by its Taurus engines.

Once fully operational the Beaufort was put to good use attacking Channel ports and convoys and contributing bombs, mines and torpedoes to the weight of munitions thrown at whatever German capital ship happened to be docked for repairs and within range. Losses were heavy, but the Channel and North Sea Beaufort crews began to develop the tactics that would ultimately result in the effective Coastal Command strike wings later in the war.

Perhaps the greatest developments in anti-shipping tactics came in the Mediterranean. The squadron spent two months based on Malta in mid-1942 while en route to the Far East and the war against the Japanese. A bonanza for the then AOC of Malta, Hugh Lloyd (who had a well-known reputation for ‘acquiring’ whatever aircraft transited through the besieged island for his own offensive and defensive requirements), the Beauforts were instrumental in stopping the flow of supplies from Europe to Rommel’s desert forces in North Africa. When the squadron was eventually released, to continue its journey to the Far East, it could only muster eight of the original 21 crews and aircraft that had arrived just two months previous. Eventual re-equipment with Hudsons occurred, before enough Beauforts were available, followed by conversion to Beaufighters, but the squadron was not to see any further action for the final three years of the war (perfectly illustrated by the last three years being recounted in one chapter!).

The author flew with the squadron as an observer (nav) from early 1941 to March 1942. While he recounts the history of the unit before his arrival, obviously the most detail (coincidentally the most hectic period) is provided during his time on operations. He masterfully weaves his experiences with those of his squadron mates and the development of the war from a mainly Coastal Command perspective (shades of A Most Secret Squadron by Des Curtis). A large number and variety of photos appear alongside the text to illustrate the subject matter at the time and the captions are well done. Indeed, this book is exceptionally well illustrated with text only two-page spreads being few and far between. There is a surprising amount of detail in the many appendices and, pleasingly, there is a good index. Such was the eye for detail and pure professionalism of Nesbit (honed to perfection as, remember, he did a lot of his work before the days of online resources), it is hard not to review this book without feeling like you are critiquing a master who is almost without peer. Sadly, he was not around to proofread the final manuscript and errors of varying relevance are present although these have been dealt with and will be included in the second edition if, hopefully, that comes about.

While long-term readers of Nesbit’s work will find a lot of familiar ground, and be able to draw comparisons to his first title, Woe To The Unwary, this book perhaps draws together all previous efforts to present an interesting read on a squadron that certainly did its share. A fine legacy.

ISBN 978-1-47382-328-0

Liberator - Ron Watts

It’s been quite some time since I wrote a long review. In fact, I think it’s probably the longest period since ABR began. There’s been a variety of reasons, with paying work dominating my desk time, but also, quite simply, just the ins and outs of family life. I’ve also felt the language I’ve been using in the long reviews has become a bit repetitive. In short, while the brief magazine reviews have flowed okay, I’ve been a bit stuck on the long review. As time passes, too, since the read, it becomes harder to review a book without effectively going back through it in some detail. There was one book, however, that I’ve read in the past six months that has kept me looking ever forward. Why? It is as near to as perfectly crafted as you are ever likely to get. Just thinking about it makes me want to be better, makes me want to try to write something approaching this book. It is Liberator by Ron Watts.

‘Harry’ Hartwig grew up in South Australia’s Barossa Valley, the son of devout German Lutheran parents. It was not an easy upbringing, with considerable family heartache before he left home, but the Hartwigs were resilient people. Handy too. Harry’s father built his family a house, among other things, so they could supplement their meagre income with rent from their former family home. While clever with his hands, Hartwig senior was fond of a drink and, therefore, prone to extended bouts of unreliability which, in the late 1920s/early 1930s, was not at all useful. Harry’s ever suffering mother, and her strict faith, kept the family together. When he left home, indeed before that, Harry’s faith had begun to wane. He found freedom on his motorcycle and, unsurprisingly, a career in the wine industry. A female colleague rekindled his interest in religion, but it was not until 1941 that he returned to the flock as they say, albeit to a church that his parents, being Lutheran, would regard as non-conformist. 

At this juncture, I must point out that religion plays a very strong part in this book. Indeed, the book is published by the Mission Aviation Fellowship for reasons that will soon become clear. I apologise in advance for stumbling my way through that angle of the review.

Having served briefly as an Army dispatch rider, no doubt something he would have enjoyed, our hero learns to fly in Australia and Canada before electing to complete a General Reconnaissance course and then heading to the Bahamas, a clear sign he is destined for Coastal Command. The time spent on leave in North America is fairly typical of Australians overseas and Harry fell in love with the ‘endless summer’ that met him in the Bahamas. Now a prolific letter writer, particularly to his sister, the book benefits from regular enlightening quotes and depth to the already superb narrative. Such letters are worth their weight in gold as any aircrew book author will attest. 

While Harry and his colleagues are training for long sea patrols, flying Mitchells as a lead in to Liberators, their long flights over the ocean are effectively operational sorties. While not counted as such, it’s more or less what they were. Harry had already flown many, many hours in the big Consolidated bomber before he was posted to 206 Squadron RAF in Cornwall for ops over the Atlantic and North Sea. He transitioned to the Liberator just thirteen months after flying the Tiger Moth for the first time. Let that settle in. It’s unremarkable because it was expected, and familiar if you regularly visit these times, but it really is a hell of an achievement. 

As co-pilot, the steady, reliable Hartwig flew more than half of the required 600 hours that made up a Coastal Command tour. His pilot was several years his junior, but, along with several other personalities encountered at the time, proved a wise guiding hand to Harry’s faith as it began to evolve into something that remains tangible to this day.

The flying was not without its challenges, mostly due to bad weather, and Harry was soon back in the Bahamas to train as a captain at the head of his own crew. The war ended before he could fly operationally and complete his tour in this capacity.

Post-war, there is a realisation that aviation can further spreading of the word and assist those doing such work. While Harry is not the only one to think this way (there were similar ’pioneers’ with wartime experience in North America and the UK), and bolstered by discussions on the subject during the war, he continues the renewal of his faith by commencing religious studies in Melbourne as preparation for his intended life as a missionary. A passionate and driven man, he almost single-handedly raises awareness of the value of aviation to remote missions in Australia and further afield. Meeting some resistance during an aerial survey of the northern reaches of Australia, he sets his sights on New Guinea and is ultimately successful in establishing what has become a worldwide organisation. Flying supplies and passengers between missions and towns, journeys that would take days were whittled down to several hours. Medical services, in particular, benefitted from the aviation services Harry had worked so hard to establish. Sadly, however, after giving his all, Harry Hartwig gave his all while returning to Madang in August 1951. 

This is an exquisite read. It’s not full of combat operations or tales of derring do, but that makes the author’s achievement all the more impressive. Harry is there warts and all, his very thoughts laid bare or, at least, finely constructed into the detailed narrative. It is, as suggested above, a lesson in writing. 

The religious angle will possibly turn a few potential readers away. I had not read a book with such an evident ‘theme’ since the excellent Voice from the Stars by Tom Scotland DFC (and that side of things doesn’t appear until well into his tour when he has a night sortie epiphany). There are several passages that, my apologies, raised an eyebrow or two, but that’s simply because they’re not my beliefs. I’m quite happy, fascinated even, to learn what drives other people, what makes them who they are and how they see the world and live their life. A mile in someone else’s shoes and all that. It is all just nicely weaved into a magnificent account. Look at Harry Hartwig as an aviation pioneer because that’s exactly what he was. 

What is eminently frustrating, though, was the circumstance of his death. Pushing on for a mountain pass through bad weather, keen to get back to his wife and child, there is an underlying current of God’s will in his actions, and the outcome of those actions, as though it was his time to go. No, sorry, he flew into bad weather (in New Guinea!) and paid for his recklessness with his life. This was a man who had committed himself to a life of service. That is something, motivations and inspiration aside, that was ultimately wasted. He could have, would have, helped thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands. "Just turn around and wait it out, Harry!" Extinguishing the potential of a young life is nothing unusual, sadly. After all, the world was still coming to grips with yet another global conflict that had done just that while looking ahead and seeing more of the same as Korea kicked off. Even the author, a deeply religious man and aviator (the perfect person to write this book), questions why ‘the powers that be’ decided to end Harry’s life early. 

A solid paperback of a little over 230 pages, Liberator is copiously illustrated with two-page spreads of text only in the minority. Harry’s legacy is in the modern day Mission Aviation Fellowship, a “strategic ministry” with operations around the world delivering the services envisioned by Hartwig more than seventy years ago. The title of the book, of course, cleverly refers to his wartime work and what would have been his lifetime’s work. It sets the tone from the start. The depth of thought exercised by the author to produce this fine example of the writer’s craft is reflected in what is really quite a succinct narrative. There is not a word wasted nor is there one out of place. Liberator is a window to a man’s soul, but shows the reader the door to writing perfection.

ISBN 978-0-9925763-1-8