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

A Ruddy Awful Waste - Steve Brew with Mike Bradbury

I think, maybe, it has begun. Imperceptibly, the flow of new Second World War aircrew memoirs and biographies is slowing down. For the former, of course, this is a given as time marches on and the veterans are taken from us one by one. We will have to rely on discoveries of unpublished manuscripts to increase the numbers there. New biographies will take longer to fade, but they will as those who are interested in the era, and have the skill and dedication to write about it, move on. The famous flyers - the Baders and Gibsons of the world – will no doubt continue to sell books. They’re a good thing as they are the poster boys that can attract a new enthusiast, a pending historian, and draw them into a world where ordinary men lived lives that no fiction writer could ever imagine. There is one chap who is talked about with reverence, seemingly more so than the others at times, yet he remains somewhat of an enigma. What is it about Eric Lock DSO, DFC and Bar, and why on earth has he not been written about as much as all the rest?

Eric grew up in Shrewsbury, Shropshire, and proved a good student and sportsman once he was settled. He worked at the family quarry and adjacent farm. As the second youngest of five children, Eric was barely a teenager when the last of his elder siblings married. His hard working parents, with established businesses, provided Eric and his younger sister with a sound education. At fourteen years of age, Eric had his first flight with Alan Cobham’s barnstorming operation. He didn’t look back.

Eric joined the RAFVR and began part-time service in early 1939 as part of the RAF’s rapid build-up for what was quickly becoming inevitable. He soloed on 3 March and eventually went to an Initial Training Wing in October, Service Flying Training School in December and then, finally, in June 1940, to No. 41 Squadron. This was the posting that would make him a household name in a very short period of time.

To some extent, Eric’s flying training benefitted from its timing. While things were becoming rather hairy on the Continent, and the RAF and Air Ministry certainly recognised this, the length of training periods was only marginally truncated and the period of the Phoney War allowed some courses to be lengthened slightly. For a gifted flyer like Eric, this allowed him to truly settle into his flying. Even his first squadron was operating in a quieter sector which again allowed him to get to grips with the Spitfire. His wedding, too, in late July, and subsequent leave, meant he missed the squadron’s busy, two week deployment to Hornchurch and he did not fly his first op until August. One can imagine his intense happiness with squadron and married life while chomping at the bit to get into operational flying. He was about to get his wish in spades.

As fortunate as Eric was to be somewhat eased into combat flying, there was always going to be that first op to be flown and, assuming it didn’t happen then, the baptism of fire. For our hero, and soon to be everyone else’s, the latter occurred on his third op when Luftflotte 5, based in Norway, attacked the supposedly lightly defended northern counties on August 15. Baptism of fire, first sighting of the enemy and the first victory. It was a red letter day for Eric Lock. There were to be many of those as the Battle of Britain reached its climax and Eric’s score continued to increase. At one stage his op/kill ratio was 1:1. The squadron’s move back to Hornchurch in early September saw it regularly engaged several times a day. Many of Eric’s kills were when he was on his own, as he preferred, and, curiously, given his rising seniority and leadership qualities, he was often employed as the squadron weaver, a role that was certainly the most dangerous in the squadron formation. However, Eric relished it, but it was flying in this position, with the Battle well and truly over (officially), and after two months of frenetic, unceasing flying, that he was shot down and seriously wounded in mid-November. His wounds, hit in the left arm and both legs, included his left forearm being broken in two places. Such was the seriousness of his injuries, that he was sent to East Grinstead and the care of the legendary Dr Archibald McIndoe. While renowned for his treatment of burns victims, McIndoe was, of course, a leading plastic surgeon and exactly what Eric needed to recover, at least physically. He thus became one of the founding members of the Guinea Pig Club.

After seven months of treatment, and not having flown in that time, Eric, inexplicably, was posted to No. 611 Squadron as a flight commander. The position makes sense, but the squadron’s role at the time does not. It was based at Hornchurch and heavily involved in Fighter Command’s offensive operations over the Channel. While his experience would have been welcomed, he certainly wasn’t up to scratch and would have benefitted from being eased back into squadron life. Perhaps the time recovering and recuperating was regarded as his rest period? It certainly seems that way. Anyway, he was flying again on 1 July and in a little over a month he was dead. During that time, he was again successful on several ops and, with hindsight, the victim of the mounting pressure placed on the experienced pilots. Time after time, new pilots arrived on the squadron, but most had very little operational time or, indeed, none at all. They could not take the weight off the flight commanders and squadron leadership, so already worn out men continued to climb into their aircraft for operations that, as the Germans found out the previous summer, could be dictated by the enemy. Still, it had to be done and Eric would not be the only eminently qualified RAF fighter pilot to be so cruelly lost.

There is a reason why it has taken until now (well, 2016) for a comprehensive Lock biography to be published. Surprisingly, for one of the RAF’s leading lights, very little in the way of documentation remains. There is no logbook. There is no diary. Most tellingly of all, Eric’s wife cut her ties with his family soon after he was lost. This dearth of primary sources makes A Ruddy Awful Waste all the more remarkable. The authors have drawn on what family records they could, but the vast majority of Eric’s flying career is recounted via combat reports and the memories of his colleagues and family.

Contemporary accounts are heavily drawn upon where it is known Eric would have experienced something similar. From those, conclusions have been drawn where they need to be. For instance, Eric’s initial field treatment after being shot down, and then subsequent recovery via skin graft operations, is masterfully pieced together by Brew and Bradbury reading between the lines, applying logic and a good dose of common sense (as is their investigation into the conflicting claims totals towards the end of the book). The authors clearly indicate what they believe happened, but reinforce it with detailed analysis and what supporting evidence there is. The pages explaining his injuries, treatment, the process of the skin grafts, and subsequent battle with infection, and recovery (aided by references from none other than Richard Hillary, among others, who shared a ward with Eric), are the best wartime medical writing I have read since Mayhew’s magnificent The Reconstruction of Warriors.

The same style is applied to Eric’s childhood and education with extensive use of local records to support what is known and what could be remembered. A nice touch is the images of landmarks (schools etc) from that time that are still standing and photographed by the authors. While not as obvious as the myriad of tangible honours rightly afforded to Lock to this day, they are important parts of a short life well-lived and just as important as the other images included in the typically impressive Fighting High glossy photo section.

Importantly, and this might seem an odd thing to say for a biography, the authors keep Eric at the forefront of the narrative. Because of the lack of the usual primary material, the reliance on other accounts, as mentioned above, is paramount, but these are only elaborated on in relation to the operations Eric participated in. This is particularly valuable as the Battle of Britain sequences have a very familiar feel to them. There is very little different to the reams of combats with Messerschmitts, Heinkels, Dorniers and Junkers that have already been written about, and will continue to be written, during the summer of 1940 and the authors thankfully avoid the trap of turning this section of the book into yet another account of the campaign as a whole. Very little space is given to squadron combats that Eric did not take part in. They are mentioned in passing, if at all. In that sense, the reader keeps in touch with him, reveling in the quiet efficiency with which he goes about his job (similarly, a detailed family history is left to the appendices). That said, he does seem to get a bit lost in the accounts of the combats over the Continent in mid-1941. His scoring was certainly not as prevalent during his final month of flying, but a large part of that was because the Luftwaffe controlled when, where, and if, they would intercept the RAF formations. It’s as if he had already started to fade away.

Eric Lock remains missing to this day. His memory lives on in an almost constant stream of memorials and honours befitting a man of his accomplishments. However, there is very little chance we will ever know the full story. The ultimate primary source, the man himself, took the most important resource, his memories, with him. Had he lived, there is little doubt that his story would be known backwards by now and in its umpteenth printed edition. One can but hope that this becomes the case with this book. It needs to be. Aspects of Eric Lock’s life will remain a mystery, but that’s not for the lack of intelligence and thoughtful analysis applied by the authors. He will continue to inspire and mystify enthusiasts and historians, pending or otherwise, but everything they need is in A Ruddy Awful Waste.

ISBN 978-09934152-3-4

Blood, Sweat And Courage - Steve Brew

The inspiration for writing this review, besides the book itself, stems from deciding I would attempt to publish the world’s first book review of 2015.  There’s a good chance I will have achieved this assuming no Samoans, Kiwis or Norfolk Islanders have had the same idea and usurp me in the three hours from the first seconds of 2015 to midnight here in Melbourne.  Thinking of this little record attempt for ABR got me reflecting on 2014, a year that has gone a bit downhill in the past month, and one word came to mind.  Legacy.  

As a very amateur writer on old things that fly, and the people that made them do so, I have written relatively little for ABR but have contributed elsewhere this year.  This has been the best year, however, for the website’s traffic so, with luck, the goal of increasing the audience for these books has been achieved.  I think about the authors I have ‘worked’ with and met this year and their contribution to the collective memory of the aircrew and their experiences.  Staring at the SAAF Bisley profile artwork that hangs above my desk, and thinking “legacy”, brings one author to mind ahead of the others - Steve Brew.  Many of you will know of his work with No. 41 Squadron’s history and his magnificently enormous Blood, Sweat And Valour.  Well, after 11 years of work, and no doubt a fair bit of blood and sweat of his own, Steve has completed his wartime history of the unit with Blood, Sweat And Courage.  The two volumes comprise almost 2,000 pages of history.  That is some legacy.

Two Battle of Britain books in the same year for ABR!  The first, of course, was the intimate Australia’s Few And The Battle Of Britain by Kristen Alexander.  It’s perhaps a bit generalist (and lazy), however, to call BSC a Battle of Britain book.  It is so much more but certainly the longest section of the book is the summer of 1940.  Blood, Sweat And Courage is the history of the squadron from the declaration of war through to July 1942. 

You would expect the Phoney War period to be quite dull especially as the squadron was equipped with Spitfires and therefore ‘quarantined’ from operating in France with the British Expeditionary Force.  To some extent this is true, and the diary entries support this at times, but the war was only six weeks old when the squadron scored its first victory and, incidentally, the first German airmen were captured on British soil.  As celebratory as this is (as by the now the reader is heavily invested in the fortunes of the squadron), it is the events of the following day, October 18 1939, that put things in perspective and sets a tone, an emotion, for the book.  One of the three pilots who shared the previous day’s victory, Sergeant Albert Harris, was a passenger on the grossly overloaded Whitley that was being used as a transport for the squadron’s move to RAF Wick.  He was killed when the aircraft stalled and crashed on take-off.  Reading this passage results in an incredulous “Hang on, wasn’t he…” moment.  It was the moment the book went from squadron history, with its staccato diary entries, to squadron memoir.  It became personal.

The rapid-fire diary entries, early on in the war when, relatively, not a lot is going on, are increasingly interspersed, as the war heats up, with contextual ‘elaborations’ that provide considerably more detail as individual memories from squadron members illustrate events or the author expands on noteworthy items.  The language used in the diary entries also helps to draw the reader in.  The author particularly uses “today” extensively.  It is a simple but clever use of the word as it fosters a feeling of currency and involvement.

Diary entries and expertly collated and assembled combat narratives, and personal recollections to support them, are great but what is particularly telling with regard to the Battle of Britain period are the tables detailing the flights made in a day by pilots and aircraft.  The take-off and landing times are very good at communicating the frequency and urgency.  It is easy, in conjunction with the narrative, therefore, to imagine the sheer exhaustion the pilots felt after days and days of such frenetic activity.

The post-Battle of Britain period was a time of change for both sides.  Fighter Command went on the offensive and the Spitfire units eventually converted to the Mk V while the Germans moved on to the Me109F and, in time, the Fw190.  The squadron, however, spent six months of 1941 on rest (defensive duties with not much ‘rest’) before returning to the fray.  Their lot for the next 12 months was one of Circuses and sweeps, taking the fight to the enemy.  The combat actions for the Circuses in particular are, as you’d imagine with the squadron flying with several others, confusing to say the least but the author makes sense of it all and produces entertaining, informative and very readable accounts.  Here, the diary entries are quite a bit longer (!) and each operation is headed by a table summarising the RAF involvement.  Happily, Brew analyses the losses and claims and does not accept the ORB as gospel.  He even corrects previous research and conclusions he made as the squadron historian.

The narrative ends not with the squadron being pulled from ops for a rest, although this ultimately happened, but with it being stood-down in preparation for transportation to Russia following the success of the Hurricanes that made up Force Benedict.  This, of course, did not eventuate but it is a fascinating little conclusion for the time period covered by BSC. 

This is a huge book.  Despite being very well written, it does require dedication to get through.  The main section, obviously and necessarily, contains a lot of names and numbers but they do not overpower the reader.  As is common with works of this ilk, the reader will develop ‘favourite’ pilots as they pop up time and time again.  All men, where possible, are introduced by way of their career to the date of joining the squadron.  On being posted out their subsequent service is included in the narrative in surprising detail and the author regularly refers to pilots flying with other squadrons as being previous or future 41 Squadron members.  Even the captions for the many photos provide as much biographical detail as space allows.  It is the most comprehensive personnel history, with the benefit of being told and presented exceedingly well, I have come across.  The author has achieved his aim to “give every man his place in history”.

The appendices are, as expected, massive and provide a lot of information with the largest detailing each pilot’s service record.  The format is the same as that used in the previous volume Blood, Sweat And Valour and, for the pilots’ records, requires a lot of understanding of abbreviations and acronyms but all are listed in a later appendix.  There’s even appendices dedicated to surviving gun camera films shot by the squadron, a ground victory listing and the aircraft used as squadron hacks!  This is the type of book you consult to corroborate everything.  As is the norm for the Fonthill books I have encountered there is, maddeningly, no index although, once again, the author provides one on his website.  This book would be absolute perfection with an index but it does not suffer from not having one.  It’s just that it deserves one.

If you’ve read BSV then you know what follows where BSC closes and how the squadron built on its already enviable reputation.  Upon finishing BSC, there is a desire to re-visit the first volume to continue and conclude the squadron’s wartime story.  Preparing for this review required a week of very late nights coupled to several very early mornings.  It was a pleasure and a privilege to go through the advance copy and be in the presence of something remarkable.  Blood, Sweat And Courage had a lot to live up to after the release of BSV and it was eagerly awaited because of the quality of the first volume.  It had to be superb.  It had to be readable.  It is both and so much more.

But wait, there's more to come

Time certainly does fly when you’re having fun. It doesn’t seem that long ago when Steve Brew’s momentous work on No. 41 Squadron’s war from 1942-45 – Blood, Sweat And Valour – was being brought forth into the world. I can still remember, it was only January 2013 after all, the immense package being delivered to the door. The courier seemed a bit more puffed than usual and, in the background, I could see the suspension on his van only just beginning to recover. I was soon to find out why.

BSV is physically surprising. As I said in the review, it is more than 900 pages long, quite heavy and very imposing yet maintains a manageability when it comes to handling. It’s just as surprising, pleasingly so, on the inside. The illustrations and detail are staggering but it is easy to read despite the necessary ‘evils’ required of a squadron history/diary. This is one of two squadron history titles that I use as a benchmark for all others (the other being Graeme Gibson’s magnificent Path Of Duty). It has clearly been an epic undertaking and the author is about to do it all again as he rapidly approaches the final stages of his latest project.

Blood, Sweat And Courage is Volume Two but, obviously, really Volume One of the squadron’s history. It will cover the period from September 1939 to July 1942 and complete the wartime saga begun by BSV. The book will be in the same format and contain the level of detail experienced in BSV. Much of the information detailing the squadron’s operations over Dunkirk and during the Battle Of Britain has been gathered from previously unavailable personal accounts, combat reports and intelligence reports. As expected BSC will be superbly illustrated with an array of tables, sketches and maps ably supported by more than 350 photographs. There will even be eight colour aircraft profiles so there will be truly something for everyone to sink their teeth in to.

The release of Blood, Sweat And Courage towards the end of this year will be the culmination of 11 years of research into the wartime history of No. 41 Squadron. The two books, using BSV as the example, exceed all expectations but combined they will be a shining light for their genre. Simply brilliant. Keep an eye out for BSC later in the year (news of its cover and launch will be reported here) and be sure to warn your postman or courier driver! If he or she delivered a copy of David Vincent’s The RAAF Hudson Story Book Two, Neville Parnell’s Beaufighters In The Pacific or the new edition of The Bomber Command War Diaries then they’ll have a fair idea of what to expect. Steve Brew’s books are easily on a par with these classic, comprehensive and weighty titles. Just superb.