The Mighty Hood and the pursuit of Battleship Bismarck

I had planned to publish the following entry last weekend but laptop problems precluded this, hence the slightly belated recognition of the anniversary of this action.

KMS Bismarck (Bundesarchiv photo)

Last weekend marked the seventy first anniversary of the sinking of the German battleship Bismarck following an epic six day sea chase following her break-out from Norway, during which time just about every major unit in the Royal Navy was involved in the hunt for this threat to British sea power. During this chase, Bismarck also obliterated the pride of the Royal Navy, the battlecruiser HMS Hood in a short action which saw the loss of over fourteen hundred of her ship’s company leaving just three survivors to be plucked from the icy North Atlantic.

The origins of the Bismarck can be traced to the rise to power of the Nazis. During the Great War, the Imperial German Navy had challenged the Royal Navy for supremacy at sea although following their tactical defeat at Jutland had rarely ventured from their home ports except when proceeding to Scapa Flow for their ignominious surrender in 1918, an event which haunted the officers of this service, including one Erich Raeder, at that time holding the rank of Fregattenkapitan or Commander. By the time the Nazis came to power in 1933, Raeder was an Admiral and the man chosen by Hitler to head the Kriegsmarine as the reconstituted German Navy was to be known. Hitler vowed to build a new High Seas Fleet and although Raeder did not support the Nazis or agree with their ideals, the promise of heading this new fleet was too hard for him to resist. 

 Erich Raeder (Bundesarchiv photo)

At the heart of the ideal was ‘Plan Z’, a scheme for a balanced fleet of battleships, pocket battleships, aircraft carriers, cruisers, destroyers and of course submarines designed to challenge the Royal Navy, still at that time by far the largest in the World. The Bismarck and her sister ship Tirpitz were amongst some of the first vessels in this new fleet. To build a new fleet virtually from scratch takes time but there seemed no cause for hurry, for Hitler had assured Raeder that conflict with England would not come before 1945, by which time this new fleet would be virtually complete. Like most of Hitler’s promises, this one was to go seriously awry and when war came in 1939, the fledgling Kriegsmarine, could in Raeder’s own words, do little to the British “except to demonstrate to them how to die gallantly.”

It was against this background in August 1940 that Bismarck was commissioned at her builders, the famous Blohm & Voss yard in Hamburg. Despite their numerical disadvantage, it was planned that Bismarck should form a powerful squadron with her sister and the battleships Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and to make a foray into the Atlantic creating havoc amongst the British convoy routes. This mission was planned for April 1941 but this formidable squadron was never to see action. Gneisenau was torpedoed in Brest harbour and subsequently bombed whilst under repair, Scharnhorst needed boiler repairs and Tirpitz was late in being completed by her builders. A scaled down version of this sortie was therefore planned, with the giant battleship teaming up with the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen to mount the raid. Hitler, anxious to avoid the loss of his precious ships was wary of the whole idea but reluctantly went along with the plan and the two ships duly sailed from their Norwegian hideout on 21st May under the command of Admiral Gunther Lutjens.

The British had been aware of the vessels hiding away in the fjords and had organised photographic reconnaissance aircraft to capture them on film. Once they had been found to sail, the hunt was on and Admiral Sir John Tovey, commander of the British Home Fleet, ordered the battlecruiser HMS Hood and the newly commissioned battleship HMS Prince of Wales to sail from Scapa Flow and intercept the German vessels in the Denmark Strait. Although powerfully armed, Hood was effectively obsolete, having been designed during the Great War and although scheduled for a major rebuild to bring her up to modern standards, the war had come too soon to allow this and she had had to continue in her un-modernised condition. To compound the problem, Prince of Wales was fresh from the builder’s yard and indeed, still had workers from Cammell Laird’s shipyard aboard ironing out snags in her main armament amongst other things.

HMS Hood in 1924 (State Library of Victoria)

At 05:52 on the 24th May 1941, HMS Hood opened fire, closely followed by her consort. Bismarck returned fire; her shooting was remarkably accurate and with only her fifth salvo, struck Hood a mortal blow with her 15 inch main armament. Her thin deck armour penetrated, Hood simply exploded – her magazines detonating and breaking the graceful battlecruiser in two. She sank in seconds and just three survivors were later pulled from the water by the escorting British destroyers. Of the remaining 1,415 men of her ships’s company, not a trace, not a single body was to be found. The pride of the Royal Navy had gone. Bismarck and Prinz Eugen then shifted their fire to the Prince of Wales, which in turn was also heavily hit but not before the British battleship had hit the German vessel hard, piercing one of her fuel tanks, causing her to leave a tell-tale stream of fuel oil in her wake and more importantly limiting her range and scope for further operations.

The secrecy of the mission blown and the German battleship seriously damaged, Lutjens decided to abandon the sortie and make for the French Atlantic port of Brest. Prinz Eugen was detached and slipped away undetected by the shadowing British cruisers, whilst Bismarck forged her way to safety. The British used their huge numerical superiority to bring in ships from all over the Atlantic and even from the Mediterranean. The aircraft carriers Victorious and Ark Royal launched strikes with their venerable Swordfish torpedo bombers and it was a strike from the latter carrier, which was to strike Bismarck what proved to be a mortal blow.

A fortunate torpedo strike hit Bismarck right astern and disabled her steering gear, causing her to steam an erratic and ultimately circular course. She could only await her doom, as almost within touching distance of Brest and air cover but in appalling weather, she was tracked down by the Royal Navy. Tovey’s flagship HMS King George V  had rendezvoused with another battleship, HMS Rodney and prior to this, Bismarck had been harried by British destroyers, attempting to further slow her with torpedoes. Shortly after daybreak on the 27th May, the British battleships opened fire and between them began to pulverise the once proud super-battleship and by 10:00 had reduced her to a blazing wreck, with hundreds of men dead and dying. Tovey called on any of his ships with torpedoes remaining to use them on Bismarck to finish her and shortly after 10:40, having been hit repeatedly by torpedoes fired by the cruiser Dorsetshire, the former pride of the Kriegsmarine slid beneath the waves, leaving hundreds of men in the water.

To paraphrase Lord Nelson, humanity after victory has always been the predominant feature of the British Fleet and following the demise of the Bismarck, the victors set about rescuing the vanquished survivors but in a final tragedy, one of the lookouts aboard Dorsetshire, spotted what he thought was the periscope of a U-Boat. Fearing the worst, the British abandoned the rescue attempt and scattered, having rescued just one hundred and ten men, one of whom later died. There was no U-Boat, although one was soon to arrive and managed to pick up a further three men with a German trawler rescuing another two. Out of a total of two thousand two hundred men aboard Bismarck, there were just one hundred and fourteen survivors.

This article is dedicated to those men of Hood and Bismarck, the pride of their respective fleets, who did not return to their home ports.

Published Sources:

The Battle of The Atlantic - John Costello & Terry Hughes, Collins 1977

Pursuit: The Chase and Sinking of the Bismarck - Ludovic Kennedy, Cassell 2001

The War at Sea - Julian Thompson, Sidgwick & Jackson 1996 

Barnes Wallis, Guy Gibson and The Dambusters Raid

This week marked the sixty ninth anniversary of the RAF's raid on the great dams of the Ruhr, that has gone down in British folklore as The Dambusters raid, and which has been commemorated in the magnificent film of the same name with that music, composed by Eric Coates.

Wing Cdr. Guy Gibson and his crew (courtesy IWM)

The raid itself, although executed with great expertise and determination by Wing Commander Guy Gibson VC and his men of 617 Squadron, was in retrospect, only partially successful and was only achieved at tremendous cost. Of the nineteen specially adapted Lancaster bombers that set out from RAF Scampton, eight failed to return - a loss rate of forty percent. More important was the human cost; fifty three RAF aircrew were killed and three more taken prisoner. On the ground, two of the three targetted dams - the Mohne and Eder Dams - were breached but a third and arguably the most important - the Sorpe Dam - proved impossible to break. None the less, the damage caused was severe; German industry was severely disrupted for a matter of months although quickly recovered due to the failure of the RAF to mount follow-up raids on the dams whilst repairs were being undertaken. Ironically, for such an industrial target as these dams, much of the damage caused was to German agriculture. Vast areas of arable land were simply washed away by the ensuing flood waters and was not usable again until the 1950s. The loss of life on the ground was also high, with some 1,600 people being killed but again with supreme irony, many of these were Prisoners of War and forced labourers working in the Ruhr industries and therefore to the Nazis, supremely expendable.

Despite this debateable success, the raid proved a great fillip to the British public who were anxious to see the battle taken to the Nazis and also demonstrated to Stalin that the RAF were capable of mounting a sustained bomber offensive that could help take the pressure off his beleagured eastern front until such time as the Allies could open a genuine second front by means of an invasion of western Europe.

Much has been written and broadcast about this raid and it is impossible in a blog of this nature to discuss every facet of the raid in great detail but we can examine some of the people involved and how Operation Chastise to give the raid it's official name came into being.

Barnes Wallis

It is important to remember that the raid came out of an initial concept of a weapon designed by Barnes Wallis, who was the Assistant Chief Designer at Vickers. Wallis was a proven designer of quality and innovative designs such as the Wellington bomber with it's geodetic construction of huge strength that was capable of absorbing massive punishment and still being able to fly home. His initial concept of the Bouncing Bomb was of a ten tonne weapon designed to skim the surface as an anti-shipping device. The skimming aspect came out of a need to be able to skip over protective booms and nets, something that a conventional torpedo or mine was unable to do. The weapon was also quickly seen as a viable means of attacking the great dams of Germany - targets that had been identified as early as 1937 by the RAF planners in selecting targets when war with that country began to look inevitable. Testing of the bomb, firstly a scaled down version at the Building Research Establishment in Watford and later at the disused Nant-y-Gro Dam in Wales, convinced Wallis that the ten tonne concept was neither viable (no aircraft existed at the time capable of carrying such a weapon) nor necessary. Once he realised that a smaller version capable of being carried by the existing Lancaster bomber would suffice, full scale trials were carried out at Chesil Beach in January 1943. Wallis now had to sell his idea to the powers that be within the RAF, which effectively meant getting the scheme past the formidable head of Bomber Command, Arthur 'Bomber' Harris, who was notoriously opposed to anything that diverted resources away from his beloved area bombing plan and to whom scientists like Wallis were often dismissed as 'Panacea Merchants.' Indeed, Harris wrote initially that he felt that this scheme was "tripe of the highest order." However, this skepticism was not to last; Harris and his superior, Sir Charles Portal were sufficiently impressed upon meeting Wallis that Harris authorised the formation of a special squadron to undertake the mission. As a result, 617 Squadron was born and selected to lead this elite formation, was a 24 year veteran RAF officer - Wing Commander Guy Penrose Gibson.

Gibson had been born in India in 1918 but had returned to England with his parents, aged six, in 1924. He had joined the RAF in 1936 and had become a Pilot Officer in 1936. On the outbreak of war in 1939, Gibson was serving with 83 Squadron, flying Hampden bombers on raids into Germany and in July 1940 had won his first DFC. On completion of his first operational tour of 27 missions, instead of taking the usual six month rest from operational flying with a training unit, or desk job, Gibson volunteered for further flying duties with Fighter Command, flying Blenheim night fighters. He enjoyed great success in this role and on termination of his night fighter duties in December 1941, was awarded a bar to his DFC - effectively a second award of this coveted medal. In January 1942, he finally accepted a position as Chief Instructor at an Operational Training Unit or OTU, being posted to 51 OTU but in April 1942 was promoted to Wing Commander and posted in command of 106 Squadron in Bomber Command, flying the new Avro Manchester and later Lancaster bombers. After completing a further 46 sorties, he was selected to lead the new 617 Squadron to be based at RAF Scampton in Lincolnshire.

Gibson was not universally popular; he was something of a martinet and mixed socially only with fellow officers, rather than with his NCOs. He was known by his squadron subordinates, only half affectionally, as 'The Arch Bastard' but his professionalism and devotion to his duty was never in doubt and for all of his disciplinarian traits, he was also thought to be fair minded and reasonable towards his men and understanding of their problems. 

Having selected the leader, the squadron members had to be chosen and Gibson selected twenty one bomber crews from within 5 Group, Bomber Command and as well as British crews, Gibson picked men from Australia, Canada and New Zealand, making 617 Squadron a truly Commonwealth affair.

'Upkeep' bomb at IWM (courtesy IWM)

The Bouncing Bomb, codenamed Upkeep was designed to be delivered from low level, at night - from a terrifying sixty feet at an airspeed of 390 mph, so low flying practice was relentlessly pursued until the squadron could deliver the bombs faultlessly. At this frighteningly low altitude, the Lancasters altimeters were not sufficiently accurate and so a system of light beams, designed to converge at sixty feet was devised, as well as a simple aiming device designed to line up on the towers on the dam walls, when the bomber was at the correct distance from the dam to release the bomb.

Time was now pressing; the combination of optimum water levels in the dam and full moonlight was on the night of 16th/17th May 1943 and so after the final full scale practices over Derwent Water at the end of April, the Upkeep bombs were delivered to the squadron on 13th May. Such was the secrecy surrounding this mission, that it was only on the 15th May - the day before the mission - that Gibson's deputy, Flt Lt John 'Hoppy' Hopgood, his two flight commanders, Sqn Leaders Harry Maudsley and 'Dinghy' Young, together with his bombing leader Flt Lt John Hay, were briefed as to the targets. The remainder of the crews were not briefed until immediately prior to the mission but such had been the intensity of their training, the actual names of the targets were unimportant - the work to reach and hit them had already been done. It just remained to put the training into effect.

On the evening of 16th May, the Lancasters took off and followed carefully planned routes over Holland and Germany at one hundred feet. The squadron had been divided into three formation - one for the Mohne and Eder Dams, one for the Sorpe Dam and the third as a mobile reserve to replace any aircraft lost or to attack secondary target dams at the Ennepe, Schwelm and Diemel sites. As related earlier, the Mohne and Eder Dams were destroyed and breached - the politically incorrect codeword 'Nigger' (the name of Gibson's black labrador dog) for the Mohne and 'Dinghy' for the Eder being radioed back to Bomber Command as a sign of success. The Sorpe Dam was a tougher nut to crack; the bombing approach was difficult and being an earthen dam, rather than the more usual concrete walled variety, the Upkeep bombs energy was absorbed by the walls and only relatively minor damage was caused. All the bombs were used up and there was no alternative but the remaining Lancasters to return home.

As mentioned at the beginning of this piece, the human cost was high. Some 1,600 lives were lost on the ground, mainly due to the advancing deluge. The RAF losses amounted to forty percent - an appalling figure which could not be sustained. Barnes Wallis was essentially a peaceful man but one who recognised that Nazi tyranny had to be destroyed whatever the cost. Despite this, Roy Chadwick, the designer of the Lancaster, recalled seeing Wallis in tears when he learned of the losses of so many "wonderful young men."

So ended Operation Chastise - a mission that was to enter British and RAF folklore but what became of those involved that night?

Wing Commander Guy Gibson was awarded the Victoria Cross, the nation's highest military honour, for his role in the planning and execution of the Dams Raid and was immediately removed from flying operations and sent on a lecture tour of the USA, as much as anything as a way of keeping this young hero out of harm's way. This lecture tour took place at a time when the first USAAF airmen were coming home tour-expired after 25 missions over German territory and during questions following one talk, Gibson was asked how many missions over Germany he had undertaken. When he replied "one hundred and seventy four", there was a stunned silence in the room. Despite this respite, Gibson was anxious for a return to operational flying and in 1944 was posted as a Master Bomber based at RAF Coningsby flying Mosquitos. On 19th September 1944, Gibson's luck ran out and he was shot down - possibly in a friendly fire incident - over Steenbergen in Holland. Gibson was just 26 years of age.

Barnes Wallis, despite his peace loving nature, devoted himself to finding methods to destroy Nazi Germany, devising ever more powerful bombs. First came the Tallboy weighing in at 6 tonnes and then the truly awesome Grand Slam which was a devastating 10 tonne weapon. Both of these bombs were aerodynamically shaped for deep penetration and their description as 'Earthquake' Bombs was very apt. Many highly important strategic targets such as V2 and V3 launch sites, submarine pens, railway viaducts and perhaps most famously, the German battleship Tirpitz fell victim to these fearsome weapons. Wallis also devised a refinement of the Upkeep weapon, named Highball, which was specifically designed as an anti-ship weapon to be used in the Far East but which was not deployed before the end of that war. Post war, Wallis continued his design work and was a great champion of swing-wing technology, as well as being a design consultant for the Parkes River Radio Telescope in Australia. Wallis also continued his aircraft design work but possibly because he had seen so much death at close quarters during the Dams Raids, used models as much as possible during his test works, so as not to expose his test pilots to unnecessary dangers. Barnes Wallis was knighted in 1968 and died aged 92, in 1979.

617 Squadron Badge

617 Squadron RAF continued during the war as Bomber Command's elite unit, being selected for precision attacks on the Dortmund-Ems Canal, U-Boat Pens and the aforementioned raid on the Tirpitz on 12th November 1944. The leaders of the squadron in these post-Gibson days were Group Captain Leonard Cheshire VC and later Wing Commander Willie Tait. After the war, the squadron re-equipped with the Avro Lincoln and later entered the jet age with the Canberra and the V-Bomber era with the Avro Vulcan. The squadron continues in service to this day, now equipped with the Panavia Tornado and has seen action in the Gulf War in 1991 as well as in Iraq in 2003. The squadron badge and motto 'Apres Moi Le Deluge' is a nod to the past and the reason behind the original formation of the squadron.

Some revisionist historians would have us believe that the Dams Raid was a waste of time, resources and valuable lives. Whilst there may be some mileage in this argument, there can be no doubt that in 1943, the raids provided a major boost to British morale and also demonstrated to our Russian allies that a sustained Allied bombing campaign was a serious proposition. The raid did cause massive damage to the Nazi war industries, even if for only a relatively short period of time and did demonstrate to the Nazi heirarchy that nowhere in the Reich was safe.The raid was also a further demonstration of British technical innovation as well as the great skill and determination of Gibson and his men in carrying out the operation.

To Barnes Wallis, to Guy Gibson and to the men of 617 Squadron, we owe a huge debt of gratitude - especially to the fifty three men who did not return from the night of 16th/17th May 1943.

Published Sources:

Bomber Command 1939-45 - Richard Overy, Harper Collins 1997

Bomber Boys - Patrick Bishop, HarperPress 2007

Bomber Harris - Henry Probert, Greenhill Books 2001

Dambusters - Max Arthur, Virgin Books 2008

War and The Weather

The recent and regular deluges of rain have forced Neil and I to cancel a couple of our scheduled Sunday walks and it is fair to say that we have been thinking of renaming our business 'Blitzwaders', so bad have things become. However, the recent interventions of the weather are a ready reminder of how easily the best planned operations of war can fall foul of the elements and also how good or bad fortune with forecasting of the weather could easily spell the difference between an operation running smoothly or going catastrophically wrong, with all of the associated implications.

Group Captain JM Stagg RAF

Perhaps the best known example of weather forecasting affecting an operation of war was during the run-up to 'Operation Overlord' - the Allied invasion of Normandy in June 1944. So important was the impact of the weather on this monumental operation, that General Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander, had a meteorological department attached to his staff. The man chosen to be at the head of this organisation was Group Captain JM Stagg RAF, a somewhat dour Scotsman, upon whose shoulders the success or failure of the mission rested, surely just as much initially as the military prowess of Eisenhower, his planners at SHAEF and any of his field commanders. The operation was originally scheduled for June 5th but on this day, the winds were at hurricane force, with low cloud making flying operations impossible and seas too rough to ensure that the vast naval convoys would reach the other side of the Channel in the right order, or at all. It was therefore, an easy decision to postpone the operation but not so easy to decide how long to postpone for. This is where Stagg's expertise came in. At 4 a.m. on the morning of the 5th June, the planners met again; it was still blowing a gale outside and the rain was lashing against the windows, yet Stagg was able to predict a break in the weather the following day, allowing a brief period of acceptable weather for the invasion to proceed. The alternative was to wait another fortnight until the 19th June, which was the next time that the tides would be favourable enough to repeat the operation. It was a huge risk - the weather on the 6th June that Stagg was forecasting was barely acceptable - but to wait another fortnight was unthinkable and so with the simple words "OK, we'll go", Eisenhower gave the go ahead for the operation. The rest, as they say, is history. The Allies got ashore, established a bridgehead and gave themselves a springboard to liberate occupied Europe and cleanse Germany of the Nazis.

What is perhaps not so well known is what happened on the alternative date of the invasion. On the 19th June, the most violent storm for over 40 years swept up the Channel and combined with the spring tide, created a tempest that the locals had never seen the like of before. The temperatures were the equivalent of November - a cold one at that - and the storm ripped apart the American 'Mulbery' temporary harbour and severely damaged the British one, thus causing major disruption to the Allied supply lines. The storm raged for three days and had the invasion been attempted during this period, it would surely have ended in disaster. Had Group Captain Stagg got his weather forecast wrong and had Overlord failed as a result, the implications for Western civilisation do not bear thinking about.

Four years earlier, the weather was also generally kind to the Allies during 'Operation Dynamo', the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force and their French allies from Dunkirk in late May and early June 1940. Despite the success of this operation, a huge number of British, French and Polish troops remained to be evacuated from France and so 'Operation Cycle' was put into effect. From the port of Le Havre, a further 15,500 British and French troops were successfully brought back to Britain but at the small fishing port of St Valery en Caux, the weather intervened and demonstrated just how much operations of war, as well as anything man-made, was at the mercy of the elements. It had been hoped to bring out the 51st Highland Division from this port but this crack division had been delayed in falling back and by the time the reached the port, some twenty four hours later than scheduled, patchy fog and reduced visibility ensured that the vessels sent to rescue the soldiers lost contact with each other and the shore. The delay caused by the weather and also by the late arrival of the troops at the port meant that the Germans captured the high ground overlooking the port and evacuation proved impossible. Fewer than 2,500 soldiers were evacuated, mainly wounded and other troops but the bulk of the 51st Highland Division were forced to surrender, the majority of whom were to spend five long years in German captivity.

Another famous example of the weather intervening to destroy an operation of war was during the German invasion of the Soviet Union, although it is fair to say that this was only the final nail in the coffin for the ultimately ill-fated 'Operation Barbarossa' as the invasion was officially known. Indeed, it could be argued that the weather became a factor precisely because the wheels were already coming off the German advance. Hitler had been confident, indeed over-confident of a quick success, so much so that he had discounted the need for his soldiers to be equipped with clothing suitable to withstand the severe Russian winter weather. The harsh weather also affected machinery as well as men; weapons malfunctioned, engines froze and the whole operation ground to a halt. The casualties on both sides were enormous but the Soviets prevailed and the 'Battle of the Century' was slowly but relentlessly won by the Red Army.

At sea, poor weather could sometimes ironically be a help. Many an Allied convoy prayed for rough seas to keep the U-Boats away. Relying on their surface speed during daylight hours to shadow the convoys and pounce at night, rough seas meant that the submarines had to remain submerged and fall out of contact with their prey. Poor weather, especially in the days before radar and full air cover, meant that ships could 'hide' in the vast expanse of the North Atlantic whilst their hunters searched fruitlessly for them. This could cut both ways though; the chances of survival in an open boat following a torpedoeing in a North Atlantic gale were slim. On the Arctic convoys, the weather could be ferocious in the extreme. Convoy RA64 in February 1945 sailed in the most appalling weather throughout and was scattered by hurricane-force winds. In such conditions, it was not unknown for ships to simply break apart. In such conditions, the chances of being picked up were remote and the chances of survival in the boiling seas were even slimmer.

In the air war, operations were equally at the mercy of the elements. Bombing, especially at the start of the war, was not an exact science. Poor visibility meant that bombs would miss their targets, although when bombing a large target such as London or Berlin, this was not especially important, as bombs dropped over an urban area would invariably find a target of sorts. When the weather did intervene, it could sometimes mean the salvation of a target and saving of lives on the ground. On the 29th December 1940, the Luftwaffe set the City of London ablaze in a great fire raid that became known as the Second Great Fire of London. The damage wreaked was enormous but a planned second wave of bombing mercifully did not materialise due to poor weather back in France that prevented the aircraft from flying. The weather again intervened in the summer of 1943 during the so-called Battle of Hamburg. The bombing of this great Hanseatic port city has been covered many times, including this blog and was given the macabre title of 'Operation Gomorrah' by Sir Arthur Harris, C in C of RAF Bomber Command. From an Allied point of view, the raids were largely a successful operation. The human cost was appalling but on the night of 2nd August 1943 - the fourth and final British raid of the operation - the elements combined with the RAF bombers to produce a truly apocalyptic scene. The RAF bombers appeared over the city in the midst of a huge thunderstorm, and to the beleagured citizens of Hamburg, the combination of bombs falling, lightning flashing and thunder echoing amid the explosions of the bombs, produced scenes more hellish than ever. 

Apart from Group Captain Stagg mentioned above, meteorologists played a prominent part in the Second World War on both sides. The Germans had U-Boats stationed in the North Atlantic on weather ship duties, passing on the prevailing conditions to the Wolf Packs. They also had a weather station on Spitsbergen until it's capture by the British in 1941. The British weather station there was subsequently shelled by the German battleship Tirpitz in 1943 thus demonstrating the importance attached to these low-key but vital outposts. As would be expected, RAF Bomber Command also had it's own meteorological staff, headed by Group Captain Magnus Spence, another seemingly dour Scotsman. Appearances were deceptive however, as when questioned about his christian name by Bomber Harris, Spence merely replied that at the time of his birth, Spence's father had been suffering "from a severe attack of Norse mythology!"

In the early days of the Third Reich, the sun shone regularly at the great Nazi rallies, so much so that the German people used to call warm sunshine 'Fuhrer Weather.' Although the elements themselves favoured neither side, we have huge reason to be thankful for the likes of Group Captain Spence and all of the Allied meteorologists during the Second World War. Their works, largely unsung and behind the scenes laid the path for the ultimate victory.

Printed Sources:

The Battle of The Atlantic - John Costello & Terry Hughes, Collins 1977

BEF Ships, before, at and after Dunkirk - John de S Winser, World Ship Society 1999

Bomber Harris: His Life and Times - Air Commodore Henry Probert, Greenhill Books 2001

D-Day: The Battle for Normandy - Anthony Beevor, Viking 2009

Dunkirk: The Men They Left Behind - Sean Longden, Constable 2008

Inferno: The Devastation of Hamburg 1943 - Keith Lowe, Viking 2007

The Lonely Leader: Monty 1944-1945 - Alistair Horne with David Montgomery - Pan 1995

A War of Words

Winston Churchill

"War is Hell" said General William Sherman in a speech to the Michigan Military Academy in 1879. Although he was speaking of an earlier generation of conflict, Sherman's words have been repeated regularly over the years and still hold true to this day. The Second World War brought this hell to the civilian populations of the combatant countries like no war had done before, as well as to the traditionally long-suffering fighting men at the front line.

However, apart from the bloodshed and horrors that inevitably come with warfare, the Second World War brought with it many memorable words, both spoken and written, that have gone down in history. Some of these words formed parts of rousing oratory, designed to inspire, to motivate and to celebrate great feats of arms, or to express the feelings of a nation in time of grave crisis. Great Britain was blessed with having a leader of the calibre of Winston Churchill, who was not only a great and inspirational wartime Prime Minister but was also a great orator. He made many great speeches and has been quoted many times but one particular speech, made on June 18th 1940, immediately after the fall of France, when the British Army had barely escaped from that country lacking nearly all of it's heavy armament and equipment, and when this country was facing possible invasion and oblivion in the face of Nazi tyranny, is arguably the greatest of them all and I make no apology for repeating part of it again below:

What General Weygand called the Battle of France is over. I expect that the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilization. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this Island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, "This was their finest hour."

This was a masterful speech, designed to inspire, to reassure and to express defiance in the face of Hitler and his cronies. Apart from the speech quoted above, Churchill's words covered just about every aspect of the six years of the Second World War and have been amply recorded elsewhere. Churchill's deputy in the coaltion government was the Labour Party leader, Clement Attlee, who in peacetime had described Churchill thus:

Fifty percent genius, fifty percent bloody fool.

Richard Dimbleby (Getty)

 Moving away from politicians, this conflict was the first to be recorded in the mass media of the radio and cinema newsreel and thus, many reporters became household names, such as the BBC's Richard Dimbleby (right) and Wynford Vaughan-Thomas, both of whom regularly put their lives on the line to bring the story of the day home to the listeners. One such report came from Richard Dimbleby, who had travelled aboard a Lancaster bomber of 106 Squadron under the command of a certain Wing Commander Guy Gibson (of later Dambusters fame) on a raid to Berlin on the night of 16th/17th January 1943. His report was broadcast on the BBC a few days after his safe return and is a fascinating record of what was a nightly job for the men of RAF Bomber Command:

It was quite a long raid as the Wing Commander who took me stayed over Berlin for half an hour. The flak was hot but it has been hotter. For me it was a pretty hair-raising experience and I was glad when it was all over though I wouldn't have missed it for the world. But we must all remember that these men do it as a regular routine job.

One can only imagine the mental and physical turmoil that Dimbleby was going through when penning his report but he went on to describe the actual bombing run:

At last our bomb-aimer sighted his objective below and for one unpleasant minute we flew steady and straight. Then he pressed the button and the biggest bomb of the evening, our three and a half tonner, fell away and down. I didn't see it burst but I know what a giant bomb does and I couldn't help wondering whether such a man as Hitler, Goering or Himmler or Goebbels might be cowering in a shelter. It was engrossing to realise that the Nazi leaders and their ministries were only a few thousand feet from us and that this shimmering mass of flares and bombs and gun flashes was their stronghold.

 Dimbleby closed his report with the following tribute to the boys of Bomber Command:

Perhaps I am shooting a line for them but I think that somebody ought to. They and their magnificent Lancasters and all the others like them are taking the war right into Germany. They have been attacking, giving their lives in attack since the first day of the war. "Per Ardua ad Astra" is the RAF motto and perhaps I can translate it as "Through hardship to the stars". I understand the hardship now. And I'm proud to have seen the stars with them.

It should be noted that Richard Dimbleby flew and reported on twenty bombing raids, a remarkable feat for a civilian, considering that a full 'Tour' for Bomber Command consisted of thirty such missions. Not all reporters survived; on the night of 2nd/3rd November 1943, JMB Grieg of the Daily Mail and Norman Stockton of the Sydney Sun were both killed when the separate aircraft of 460 Squadron in which they were flying were shot down over Berlin. On the same night, two American correspondents were also flying. Lowell Bennett was also shot down but survived to become a prisoner of war and the only one of the four reporters to survive and return was arguably the greatest of them all - Edward R Murrow.

Edward R Murrow

Murrow had already become a legendary figure for his reports during the London Blitz. His radio pieces, describing life in London under fire had brought the plight of the British people into the living rooms of the American public and evoked much sympathy when that country was still neutral. Now the United States was a combatant country, Murrow was where he had always been - in the front line bringing the stories of the war home to the public. His reports from the London Blitz have been covered previously in this series so instead read part of his report from the liberated concentration camp at Buchenwald in 1945:

Permit me to tell you what you would have seen and heard, had you been with me on Thursday. It will not be pleasant listening. If you are at lunch, or if you have no appetite to hear what Germans have done, now is a good time to switch off the radio, for I propose to tell you of Buchenwald. It is on a small hill about four miles outside Weimar, and it was one of the largest concentration camps in Germany, and it was built to last.

There surged around me an evil-smelling horde. Men and boys reached out to touch me; and they were in rags and the remnants of uniform. Death had already marked many of them but they were smiling with their eyes. I looked out over that mass of men to the green fields beyond where well-fed Germans were ploughing.

Harrowing enough stuff, but worse was to follow, for Murrow was then shown the children:

....hundreds of them. Some were only six. One rolled up his sleeve, showed me his number. It was tattooed on his arm. D-6030 it was. The others showed me their numbers; they will carry them till they die. An elderly man standing beside me said "The children, enemies of the state." I could see their ribs through their thin shirts. The children clung to my hands and stared.

Murrow's broadcast described in as graphic detail as he dared, exactly what he had seen and heard that day. Murrow was a hardened reporter but also a deeply humane person and walking around the camp with fellow correspondent Charles Collingwood, he was simply overwhelmed by what he saw and was deeply traumatised by the experience. Murrow's eloquent report closed thus:

I pray you to believe what I have said about Buchenwald. I have reported what I saw and heard, but only a part of it. For most, I have no words. If I've offended you by this rather mild account of Buchenwald, I'm not in the least sorry.

Sometimes a journalist could gain a 'scoop' by simply being in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on one's point of view. Such an fate befell Cecil Brown, the CBS correspondent in Singapore, who accepted an invitation to go to sea aboard HMS Repulse, which along with HMS Prince of Wales was expected to repell an expected Japanese invasion of that colony.  Before the British ships could find the Japanese, they were discovered by Japanese aircraft, which promptly sank both vessels, thus demonstrating once and for all, the superiority of aircraft over the battleship. Nearly seven hundred British seaman were killed but Brown was rescued and back in Singapore, was able to file the story of a lifetime back to CBS. Brown's later reports were extremely critical of the attitude of the British colonial types in Singapore and as a result, he was expelled from the colony, which probably saved him from Japanese captivity when they invaded the Malayan peninsular in early 1942.

Whilst it was the serious broadcasts and speeches which rightly made their mark on the Second World War, even the darkest of times can produce humour. Some of the funnier moments of the war were recorded in the signals sent between HM Ships at sea, sometimes during moments which would later go down in history. For example, after the Battle of Cape Matapan in March 1941, the following signals were exchanged:

From Captain of Destroyer Flotilla to C in C Mediterranean:

HAVE ITALIAN SURVIVORS INCLUDING THE ADMIRAL. HE HAS PILES.

Reply from C in C Mediterranean:

I AM NOT SURPRISED

The C in C Mediterranean was Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham, who was well known for his somewhat lavatorial sense of humour.

Perhaps we should close with the person with whom we started but this time with an example of Churchillian humour. When leaving a somewhat stormy meeting with General de Gaulle, Churchill turned to Sir Alan Brooke, Chief of the Imperial General Staff and said:

How can one do business with a man who looks like a pregnant llama surprised in the act of taking a bath?

We shall just have to use our imaginations!

Published Sources:

Bomber Boys - Patrick Bishop, Harper Press 2007
The Berlin Raids - Martin Middlebrook, Viking 1988
Make a Signal - Jack Broome, Putnam 1955
World War II on the Air - Mark Bernstein & Alex Lubertozzi, Sourcebooks 2005

The Wednesday and The Saturday: Birthday Presents from Hell

The week following Easter 1941 saw London enjoying a short lull in the Blitz. The raids had died down from the intensity of nightly raids and though there had been raids throughout the early months of 1941, there had not been a serious raid on London since the 19th March. Londoners were not to know it but Hitler's thoughts were beginning to turn towards the invasion of the Soviet Union, for which task he would need to divert a considerable amount of his Luftwaffe resources from the Blitz on British towns and cities.

However, all this was in the future and before the worst was over London was to suffer three more heavy raids, culminating in the heaviest of them all on the night of 10th/11th May 1941, which we have examined previously in this blog.

In this short article, we shall examine what proved to be the penultimate two raids of the First Blitz, on the nights of 16th/17th April and 19th/20th April. These raids were so heavy that they became known in Londoners' folklore as 'The Wednesday' and 'The Saturday' respectively. Both of these raids were laid on as a strange sort of present to commemorate Hitler's birthday on 20th April, although 'The Wednesday' was also a revenge raid for damage caused to the Berlin State Opera House on the 9th April, in one of the RAF's early raids on the German capital. Indeed, a forewarning of the raid that would go down in history as 'The Wednesday' was given by William Joyce, aka 'Lord Haw Haw' in one of his 'Germany Calling' broadcasts from Hamburg, when he announced "There's going to be a bombing" although naturally, he did not give away the actual date of the planned raid.

These raids were savage in their intensity and affected parts of London that had hitherto only received light attention from the Luftwaffe, as well as re-visiting other areas that had already seen plenty of damage inflicted. So it was that as well as the East End and southeastern suburbs of London, areas such as Chelsea, the West End and St Marylebone were heavily hit in these two raids and though there is insufficient space in a blog of this nature to visit every target, we can at least examine some of the more notorious incidents across London on these two nights.

One famous London landmark destroyed on 'The Wednesday' was Chelsea Old Church, the home of Sir Thomas More's private chapel. Apart from the near total loss of a fine historic building, today happily restored, this tragic incident also saw the loss of five Fire Watchers, including the Canadian AFS volunteer, Yvonne Green, whose story has been told in a previous post in this series. Elsewhere in Chelsea, the famous Royal Hospital, home of the Chelsea Pensioners was also severely damaged on 'The Wednesday' when the Infirmary was destroyed by a Parachute Mine. These deadly blast weapons, converted from naval mines were used in large numbers during these later raids of the Blitz and it was one of these which cost the lives of fifteen in pensioners and Royal Hospital staff in this one incident. One of those killed was 101 year old Henry Augustus Rattray, a veteran of the Zulu Wars who had served with the 24th Regiment of Foot. The building itself had been designed by Sir John Soane and built in 1809 and had the damage been incurred today, then probably this fine historic building would have been restored. As it was, damaged buildings in wartime London, now matter how historic were invariably pulled down as unsafe. The site was cleared and is now the location of the excellent National Army Museum; a new infirmary was finally opened on a new site within the Hospital grounds in 2008.

Moving away from Chelsea, we move to the West End, which like Chelsea had suffered relatively little until now. The City of Westminster, then as now encompassed the bustling West End as well as the seat of government and it was in the former part of the borough that we examine our next incident, which resulted in the death of one of Britain's singing stars of the day. Al Bowlly was a major star of stage and screen, whose popularity had transcended national barriers which had made him popular on both sides of the Atlantic, which was quite an unusual achievement for a British star in those days. On 'The Wednesday', Bowlly had played a concert in High Wycombe and had been given the opportunity of staying overnight in the Buckinghamshire town but had eschewed this offer in order to catch the last train home to Marylebone in order to sleep at his own apartment in Duke Street, just off Jermyn Street. It was to prove a fatal decision as in the early hours of the morning another deadly Parachute Mine exploded outside. When rescuers found his body, it was unmarked and in a final touch of irony, it was discovered that he had died from a severe blow to the head, caused by the heavy bedroom door being blown off it's hinges and striking him a fatal blow.

We move now to 'The Saturday', the second of the raids to commemorate The Fuhrer's birthday and travel across London to the historic Borough of Greenwich, already heavily hit during the earlier raids of the Blitz. As now, this borough was the home of such historic buildings as the Royal Naval College, The Queen's House and National Maritime Museum, in 1941 it was also the home to a considerable amount of industry and another of these historic buildings was located in what was then a somewhat run down part of the town centre. The parish church of St Alfege has been located on the current site since the year 1012, where it reputedly marked the site of the martyrdom of Alfege, Archbishop of Canterbury who was murdered at that location by Danish Vikings on the 19th April 1012. The second church, dating from 1290 was the location of the future King Henry VIII's baptism in 1491. The present church, designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor, dates from 1718 and is the site of the tombs of amongst others, Thomas Tallis and General James Wolfe, victor of the Battle of Quebec in 1759 and whose statue looks down over Greenwich from the heights of Greenwich Park.

In a strange quirk of history, the interior of this fine church was to be largely destroyed on the 929th anniversary of Alfege's murder when incendiary bombs lodged in the roof timbers and brought the whole structure blazing into the main body of the building where it burned out of control. The aftermath can be seen in the photograph at the head of this page. Fortunately, the sturdy stone structure survived and the church was rebuilt after the war and rededicated in 1953. Today, the church stands proudly over the busy, rejuvenated town centre and is well worth a visit.

Following these two heavy raids, London again enjoyed a short lull before what was to prove the last and largest raid was unleashed on the night of 10th/11th May 1941.

Published Sources:

A Wander through Wartime London - Clive Harris & Neil Bright, Pen & Sword 2010
London at War 1939-1945 - Philip Ziegler, Pimlico 2002
Westminster in War - William Sansom, Faber & Faber 1947

Leonard Rosoman OBE R.A.

The Falling Wall, Shoe Lane

Leonard Rosoman, who died aged 98 on 21st February 2012, was the last surviving member of the select band of official British War Artists and is a name familiar to regular readers of this blog. His name was recalled during the post made on 12th August 2011, when this writer reported on the unveiling of the memorial plaque to Auxiliary Fireman Sidney Alfred Holder and recounted the story of how Rosoman himself had narrowly avoided Holder's fate of being buried alive beneath tons of red hot masonry.

So moved was Rosoman by this incident that he painted his now famous work entitled "House Collapsing on Two Firemen, Shoe Lane" which helped make his name as an artist and which brought him to the attention of Kenneth Clark, then Director of the National Gallery and chairman of the War Artists' Advisory Committee and which eventually ensured his appointment as an official War Artist in 1945. Ironically, Rosoman himself did not particularly care for the painting which made his name, feeling it too raw a depiction of an event which haunted him for the remainder of his life but none the less, it set him on the path to a successful career as an artist and illustrator in war and peacetime. I make no apology for showing Rosoman's haunting image once again above.

Leonard Rosoman was born in London on 27th October 1913 and won a scholarship to the Edward VII School of Art in Durham and later studied at the Royal Academy Schools and the Central School of Art in London. In 1938-39, still struggling to make a name for himself, he taught at the Reinmann School in London and in 1939 returned from Honfleur, France just prior to the outbreak of the Second World War.

Rosoman immediately enlisted in the Auxiliary Fire Service and served throughout the London Blitz and beyond. Apart from his painting of the Shoe Lane incident, he continued to paint in an unofficial capacity and his depiction entitled "A Burnt-out Fire Appliance" was regarded by him as being one of his first successful works.

HMS Formidable after being hit by a Kamikaze (IWM)

Following his appointment as an official War Artist, Rosoman was commissioned as a Captain in the Royal Marines and sent on his way to the Far East in the aircraft carrier HMS Formidable as an official War Artist to the Admiralty. He soon found himself once more in the thick of the action, including being on board when the carrier was struck by a Japanese Kamikaze aircraft whilst operating in the British Pacific Fleet off the Sakishima Gunto on 4th May 1945 (pictured above). Today, all of Rosoman's war work is in the care of the Imperial War Museum, London.

After the war, Rosoman had his first solo exhibition in 1946 at the St George's Gallery before returning to teaching the following year, firstly at the Camberwell School of Art, then from 1948-56 at the Edinburgh College of Art and later at the Royal College of Art, where one of his pupils was David Hockney. In addition to his teaching, Rosoman worked extensively as an illustrator for publications such as the Radio Times and also painted large-scale murals for the Festival of Britain, for the Royal Academy of Arts Restaurant at Burlington House as well as a ceiling that formed part of the restoration of the bomb-damaged Private Chapel at Lambeth Palace. He also exhibited widely in London and New York and was elected to the Royal Academy as Associate in 1960 and a full Academian in 1969. He was appointed OBE in 1981.

Leonard Rosoman was married twice, firstly to Jocelyn Rickard in 1961 which ended in divorce in 1969 and secondly to Roxanne Levy in 1994 who survives him.

Thanks to the work of Leonard Rosoman and his fellow War Artists, we have an invaluable illustrated record of the social history of the Second World War which otherwise may have been lost, or at best confined to the dry pages of history.

Printed Sources:

The Guardian - Wednesday 29th February 2012
The Forgotten Fleet - John Winton, Douglas Boyd Books 1989

The First of The Many

'Red' Tobin, 'Shorty' Keough & Andrew Mamedoff (RAF)

In July 1940, France had fallen and the whole of Europe was under Nazi domination. Britain along with her Empire and Commonwealth stood alone. Across the Atlantic, it was not yet an American war and indeed, there were many within that country that intended things to remain that way. The American Ambassador to Britain, Joseph Kennedy, felt that Britain was finished and reported back to President Roosevelt that "Democracy is finished in England. It may be here." Kennedy's comments, along with his anti-semitic views and his increasing defeatism were viewed with dismay by Roosevelt and he was to be replaced as Ambassador in November 1940.

Kennedy's views were not representative of most Americans and although at this time most were wary of involvement in what was still seen as someone else's war, some did want to join the fray, whether for reasons of anti-Nazism, for the love of freedom or perhaps just for fun. Despite official disapproval and attempts by FBI agents to stop them crossing into Canada or joining trans Atlantic vessels, some Americans managed to avoid these attempts and joined the RAF in ones and twos. An amazing trio who were amongst the first to join up were Pilot Officers Eugene 'Red' Tobin, Vernon 'Shorty' Keough and Andrew Mamedoff. They had initially travelled to France with the intention of joining the French Air Force but having arrived there during the death throes of that country, managed to escape to England by the skin of their teeth on the final ship to depart from St Jean de Luz before it fell to the Nazis.

Once in London, the American Embassy, no doubt under the influence of Kennedy's defeatism tried without success to send the trio back to the States but they evaded 'capture' and managed eventually to enlist in the RAF. All three were already accomplished civilian flyers but Keough almost failed his entry medical, because at 4 feet 10 inches, the medical board were not convinced that he would be able to see out of the cockpit of a modern fighter plane. Keough was prepared for this eventuality and proved to the medics that with the aid of two cushions, he could see over the edge of the cockpit, albeit with only his eyes and helmet showing!

All three were accepted into the service and after training on Hurricanes and Spitfires were posted to 609 Squadron based at Warmwell, Somerset in time to participate in the Battle of Britain, with Tobin being credited with two shared 'kills'. By September 1940, there were so many American pilots who had joined the RAF, it was decided to form dedicated 'Eagle Squadrons' formed only from Americans and this trio had the honour of being the first three pilots of 71 Squadron based at Drem in Scotland. Within a year though, all three had been killed in action or in the case of Mamedoff, in a flying accident.

Billy Fiske (RAF)

However, the first American to serve with the RAF was Billy Fiske, who in other lives was also a film producer, stockbroker and a double Olympic bobsleigh champion. Fiske was an anglophile, who had attended Trinity Hall, Cambridge where he studied Economics and was also married to Rose Bingham, Countess of Warwick. Fiske turned down the opportunity to represent his country again at the 1936 Winter Olympics in Germany on account of his disapproval of Nazism and settled down to work for the New York bankers Dillon, Reed & Co., in their London offices, remaining until recalled to the States in mid 1939. However, in late August 1939, shortly before the outbreak of war he returned to London and enrolled in 601 (County of London) Squadron of the Royal Auxiliary Air Force, also known as the 'Millionaire's Squadron' on account of the many prominent and wealthy society members who formed it's membership.

In order to satisfy US neutrality laws, Fiske had to masquerade as a Canadian but having been admitted into the RAF in March 1940, he wrote in his diary "I believe I can lay claim to being the first US Citizen to join the RAF in England after the outbreak of hostilities."

On 16th August 1940, whilst based at RAF Tangmere, 601 Squadron was vectored to intercept Ju87 Stukas which were heading to attack this important RAF Sector Station. The Hurricanes took a heavy toll of the attacking Stukas, shooting down eight of the lumbering but deadly dive bombers. However, a German gunner firing back managed to put a bullet through the fuel tank of Fiske's Hurricane. Despite serious damage to his aircraft and extensive burns to his hands and ankles, Fiske chose not to bail out but instead nursed his Hurricane back to Tangmere and landed safely. He was extracted from his damaged fighter just before it's fuel tank exploded and taken to the Royal West Sussex Hospital in Chichester but died 48 hours later from surgical shock. Billy Fiske was 29 years old and had the sad honour of being the first American citizen to die during the Second World War.

By July 1941, there were three Eagle Squadrons; 71, 121 and 133 and with the Battle of Britain having ended in November 1940, these squadrons became engaged in Fighter Command's offensive fighter sweeps over German occupied Europe. Following the official entry of the United States into the war in December 1941, the Eagle Squadrons continued within the RAF for the time being but it was clear that many of the American pilots wanted to join the fight against the Japanese.

However, this was not to be and it was not until September 1942 that the Eagle Squadrons were formally transferred to the USAAF and became part of the fledgling Eighth Air Force of the USAAF, becoming the 334th, 335th and 336th Squadrons of the 4th Fighter Group, retaining their Spitfires until they were eventually replaced by American Thunderbolts in 1943. It is a telling statistic of the attrition rate of air warfare at the time to observe that out of the 34 original Eagle Squadron pilots in September 1940, only 4 were still present to witness the transfer to the USAAF. The remainder were either dead or prisoners of war.

Eagle Squadron memoral (author's photo)

The 334th, 335th and 336th live on today, still as part of the 4th Fighter Wing as it is now called, based at the Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in Goldsboro, North Carolina. The wartime Eagle Squadrons are commemorated in London with a memorial located in Grosvenor Square, close to the American Embassy.

Apart from British pilots, 'The Few' was a force comprising many nationalities. As we have seen above, there were Americans present but there were also pilots from Australia, New Zealand, Canada, South African, Rhodesia, Jamaica, Ireland, Poland, Czechoslavakia, Belgium, France and Palestine. We owe them all a huge debt of gratitude.

Published Sources:

Dowding of Fighter Command - Vincent Orange: Grub Street 2008
The Most Dangerous Enemy - Stephen Bungay: Aurum Books 2000
The Narrow Margin - Derek Wood with Derek Dempster: Tri Service Press 1990