Ian Darling
Kitchener, Ontario
March 2009
Keith Ogilvie wanted to join the Royal Canadian Air Force, but the air force turned him down. In the pre-war era it wanted university graduates. Ogilvie, who was twenty-four, was more athletic than academic. He had graduated from high school and worked as a clerk in an Ottawa stock brokers’ office.
Ogilvie decided he would try to join another air force. In August 1939, he submitted his application at the Ottawa office of Britain’s Royal Air Force. The office recruited him two days later, quickly gave him a medical exam and sent him to England on the ocean liner Letitia.
Within a month of Ogilvie’s arrival the British government declared war on Germany. When he sent troops into Poland on September 1, 1939, Adolf Hitler demonstrated that he had no interest in what British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain called “peace for our time.” Hitler wanted to use military force to expand German influence in Europe and around the world. Poland was the first country to fall. The Netherlands, Belgium, and France soon followed.
Keith Ogilvie about 1940.
In September 1940, thousands of German troops assembled in France to invade the south coast of England. Hitler’s invasion plan was called Operation Sea Lion. The Germans lined up hundreds of river barges and other boats to take the troops across the English Channel. No invading force had come so close to England’s shores since the Spanish Armada sailed into the English Channel in 1588.
Before Hitler could launch the invasion, Germany needed to control the skies over the Channel. The Luftwaffe had to defeat the RAF so that British aircraft could not attack the invading force.
The British people were grim and tense. The war had reduced the country’s food supply, forcing the government to issue ration coupons for items such as bacon, butter, and sugar. Windows had to be completely covered at night to prevent any light from showing — light that could provide navigational assistance to German pilots. Great Britain was dark, literally and emotionally.
Though weaker than Germany, Britain was not defenceless. It could rely on Canada and other Commonwealth countries for assistance. It could call upon the Royal Navy’s powerful armada to protect its shores. It had also strengthened its land forces in the south of England — the Home Office even released posters of German troops so the British people could easily identify enemy soldiers on their beaches, fields, and streets. Britain also had courageous men in the Royal Air Force, such as Keith Ogilvie, who by this time was a pilot officer ready to participate in the Battle of Britain.
Ogilvie belonged to the RAF’s 609 Squadron, which was based at Middle Wallop, about one hundred kilometres southwest of London. The squadron flew the Spitfire, a single-seater fighter aircraft.
On September 7, 1940, the squadron was sent to attack several hundred German bombers and fighters flying toward London. From a distance, the planes looked like a cloud of hornets. Ogilvie felt excited. He was too busy getting his guns ready to feel frightened.
The Spitfires climbed above the bombers and positioned themselves so that the sun was behind them, becoming nearly invisible to German air crew. Ogilvie flew through the bombers, firing at one that had already been hit. The bomber started to go down, but Ogilvie lost sight of it because he was in the midst of the German formation. Trying to get out before a gunner fired at him he dove straight down, but he was too late. One of the gunners put a hole in the tail of his plane.
Ogilvie got away from the bombers and flew back up, getting ready to attack again. Just as he was about to swoop down, a Messerschmitt 109 — a German fighter — drifted in front of him. Then a second one appeared. The 109s were protecting the bombers, but the pilots didn’t appear to see Ogilvie’s Spitfire.
He fired, hitting the second one. It dove and turned over. He moved closer and fired again. Smoke and fire streamed from the 109. By then Ogilvie was out of ammunition, but he could claim to have destroyed the 109. Despite the hole in his Spitfire’s tail, he flew back to Middle Wallop.
Ogilvie flew again on September 15. His squadron was ordered into the air at 11:19 a.m. A controller told the pilots to look for bombers heading for Northolt, a few kilometres northwest of London. The sky was mainly clear with a few clouds.
Shortly after noon, 609 Squadron spotted about thirty German bombers over London flying at about 18,000 feet (5,400 metres). Fighter aircraft escorted them. The Spitfires tried to attack, but the attack failed because the German fighters fired cannon shells at them.
Ogilvie dove down and came up the side of the bombers. He saw some German fighters flying over him and felt thankful they hadn’t come down to attack him. Then, in front of him he saw a lone aircraft that had become separated from the main formation, perhaps because it was already damaged. It was a Dornier 17, a thin, light bomber.
The Dornier released several bombs that were heading toward Buckingham Palace. Ogilvie fired at the bomber’s port (left) side. The gunner on the Dornier fired at him. Ogilvie fired again. This time, the gunner didn’t fire back. Ogilvie fired a third time. As he flew by, he could see a fire inside the Dornier’s cockpit. Two members of the crew bailed out. The Dornier started to spin slowly. The tail snapped off, then the wings. The bomber was disintegrating.
Two heavy bombs from the Dornier hit Buckingham Palace. The following day the Times of London reported that one fell on the palace buildings and the other fell on a lawn. In addition, several small incendiary bombs fell on the palace grounds. These bombs started small fires that the palace staff and police extinguished.
Neither of the two heavy bombs exploded, the Times said. The one that struck the palace went through a private room used by Queen Elizabeth, who later became known as the Queen Mother. Neither the Queen, King George VI, nor their two children, Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret, were at the palace at the time.
The Times also reported that witnesses saw the bomber break into pieces. The wings fluttered in one direction; the fuselage dropped straight down.
This was the third time in a week that German aircraft had bombed the palace. The previous Friday, the King and Queen had been at the palace when six bombs dropped onto it. One exploded about thirty metres from the King.
Wreckage from the Dornier came down in different parts of central London. A large section of the fuselage landed outside Victoria Station, scraping the thick walls of the train station.
The Daily Mirror reported that Londoners who were on Wilton Road near the station raced from the area as the bomber fell. It was the first bomber to come down in central London. The wreckage destroyed a jewellery store and damaged the station restaurant, trapping fifty women in the basement. The women had sought shelter there during the air raid. They didn’t panic. Many had been knitting and, despite the intrusion of the bomber, they kept knitting. Their main concern, the newspaper reported, was that their lunch might be spoiled. Within a few minutes, some men rescued the women by prying open a door. “God bless our lads,” one woman said as she came out, referring to the men in the RAF.
Another part of the Dornier landed outside a pub not far from Victoria Station, much to the joy of the pub’s patrons.