However, good things come to an end and I was posted back to 141 Squadron, by which time they had been converted on to night fighting. After my sick leave period I reported back to the Squadron at Gatwick. Now at Gatwick we were on to night fighting, but at some stage after that the Squadron was moved over to Gravesend. But I know most of my night fighter work, done on the Defiant, was out of Gatwick, and it was during this period that London was being heavily bombed and we in the Defiants were sent up over London night after night. I recall vividly that the night of the really big fire of London, I happened to be airborne that night and I was being controlled by some control unit from the ground, who was getting most frustrated, as I was, because he kept telling me I was right alongside enemy aircraft, and neither I nor my gunner could see any enemy aircraft there, and during this whole time when I was airborne and I had many, many operational flights out of Gravesend, but I personally never saw a thing.’
David Hunt left his studies at Birmingham University to take a short service commission in the RAF, and during his training the war started. He has recalled that:
‘As the threat of invasion loomed closer, some of the single-engined pilots, having now acquired their wings, were posted direct to squadrons with no time left for operational training courses. I was posted to Hendon and no one appeared to know our purpose, least of all ourselves. It was an interesting time during the fall of the Low Countries, with Sabena and KLM Dakotas flying into that historic Hendon airfield. Parked around the perimeter track were these venerable Imperial Airways biplanes, Hengist and Horsa. We spent our time watching these arrivals and inspecting the ancient aeroplanes with their cane and bamboo “pomp-forming” splendour, redolent of Empire.
David Hunt
Eventually planes started arriving, brought in by Air Transport Auxiliary pilots, including some lady pilots – a Magister, two Masters and numerous Spitfire Mark 2s. We sat in the cockpits of the Spitfires, which felt as small as Tiger Moths, and wondered if we should ever be able to fly these sleek, powerful machines. Later we found that they handled as easily as Tiger Moths, with a few additional complications like flaps and retractable undercarriages and massive instrument panels.
Our spell in wonderland had to end sometime, and after the fall of France and Dunkirk the war-torn remnants of the Allied Air Striking Force Squadrons returned from France. It wasn’t long before we were flying, first the Magister, which is a light open-cockpit, club-style plane, then the Masters, real gentlemen’s planes, and at last the great day, the first flight in a Spitfire. This had to be at Northolt with its single long runway. Everything went well and it called for celebration.
During June all the Spitfires were removed by the ATA pilots and replaced with Hurricanes, because Spitfires were in short supply, and we grew to like the Hurricanes. Another thing happened in my life at this time: I got married and we managed a honeymoon of a few days down at Midhurst, Sussex.
On 14 July we were posted to Northolt where our training went on apace, including formation flying and air-to-air firing at Sutton Bridge with a target towed by a Hawker Henley. Air-to-ground firing was at Dengie Flats in East Anglia. One amusing experience was RT practice – that’s Radio Telephony. We were taken by coach to an Uxbridge football ground complete with stadium, where we pedalled around in low gear on El Dorado ice-cream tricycles which had been converted for blind flying with screens around and magnetic compasses and RT sets and headphones. We had to carry out the orders received over the RT to “fly” on various courses using the appropriate call signs and terms such as “Fly victor 120”, “angels 20” and “yellow through”, “pipsqueak in”, “scramble”, “pancake”, “tallyho”, “under bandits” – all that sort of thing.
In July 1940 operational flights were becoming an everyday occurrence with convoy patrols and interception of enemy sorties. The Squadron was operating from forward bases at Hawkinge near Dover and Tangmere near Portsmouth, as required, and intercepted small formations attacking the ports and radar installations. The Squadron was now at readiness from an hour before dawn until an hour after dusk for most of the time. The Squadron RT call sign was “Alert” and my section was Yellow section.
At this point I should say something about the Hurricane, powered by the Rolls Royce Merlin of a 1,030 brake horsepower. Its top speed at 15,000 feet was over 300 miles an hour, and the three-bladed propeller converted this power into thrust, and the aircraft ceiling was 30,000 feet. An optical gunsight projected an aiming ring and crosswires on to a glass screen behind the bullet-proof windscreen. She was armed with eight Browning 303 machine-guns with 2,660 rounds of ammunition, which could all be fired off in three or four short bursts of 4 seconds each. The pilot’s face-mask was plugged into oxygen and RT connections. After bonding and earthing was carried out by a radio expert, the RT was as good as the ordinary telephone. The cine camera-gun recorded the action when the guns were fired.
In early August the Squadron had the honour of escorting the Prime Minister on a tour of the East Coast Defences. Next day the Squadron left Northolt for its forward base at Tangmere; three sections were scrambled with a big contact over St Catherine’s Point. This was an attempt by the Jerries to put one radar station, our radar station, out of action. The raiders were driven off with losses to both sides; we lost our Flight Commander and two other pilots. The great German “Eagle” attack was due to start on 10 August, but was delayed by bad weather. This was aimed at destroying coastal fighter airfields and radar stations.
A few days later the Squadron returned to Tangmere, but before landing we were vectored to the Portsmouth area to repel a raid by 500 enemy aircraft. Our new Squadron Commander, Squadron Leader Harkness, led us straight in to drive off the big formations of Heinkel 111s, Dornier 17 Flying Pencils and a fighter cover of Messerschmitt 109s and 110s. The Squadron shot down several aircraft and we lost one pilot; another pilot lost a finger which had to be amputated.
We left Northolt for our new sector at Debden where the Station Commander, Wing Commander Fullergood, welcomed the Squadron and explained the characteristics of Sector F. After settling in at Debden the Squadron moved to its forward base at Martlesham Heath near Ipswich. Yellow section was scrambled early at 0622 hours on the southbound convoy escort patrol off the East Coast. It dawned a bright sunny day as usual that summer, and it wasn’t long before we saw a Dornier Flying Pencil sneaking in for an attack. Cockram yelled over the RT, “Bandit tallyho!” and roared into the attack, and we struggled to keep up with him and had the satisfaction to see the Dornier limping away after the attack, quite out of control with its undercarriage obviously damaged. As we tailed the plume of smoke we resisted the temptation to chase him out to sea and stayed with the convoy.
In the late afternoon the Squadron was scrambled and we intercepted a raid of German bombers and fighter escort proceeding up the Thames Estuary in box formation, also accompanied by top cover fighters several thousand feet above the main formation. It was an awesome feeling to realise that there was nothing between this large formation and the City of London except our little squadron. However, we stalked them steadily for a minute or two, keeping well ahead, until the time came and we just had to attack. As we closed in to attack, the bombers started to move into the sun and split up into smaller formations, jettisoning their bombs all over Kent and Sussex. At that moment the top cover came screaming down out of the sun, hotly pursued by Spitfires. All hell let loose in a series of dogfights all over the sky. A formation of Stukas decided to make a break for it, having shed their load; I helped them on their way with the occasional squirt from my guns as they gradually came into range. I must have caused some damage as one dropped out of formation. I closed in for a good stern attack. Smoke started to stream as he dived down steeply, dropping a few bits as he went. I turned back towards the main scrap but by that time the day was done, the battle over