The seventieth anniversary of the Battle of Britain came around in 2010 and into the Office of the GOC Air Corps arrived an invitation from the Chief of the Air Staff of the RAF to attend the laying up of the Fighter Command ‘colours’ in Westminster Cathedral. Times had moved on; the veterans were not getting any younger and parading to the cathedral was becoming impossible for many of them as they approached their nineties. This event was to mark the end of their ‘Battle’ parades and my presence was to represent the many Irishmen from the Republic who had fought in the Battle – thirteen in all, I was informed. Allocated a seat in the Poets’ Corner, along with a large cohort of military attachés and European Air Chiefs, I watched as the veterans were arranged opposite us, some in wheelchairs. There before me were the surviving pilots, technicians, armourers, radar operators, sector fighter controllers and group headquarters staffs who had actually fought the battle. These were the very people who wouldn’t give up, ever, never, no matter what the odds in 1940, when all of Europe had been suborned by the mighty and apparently invincible military forces of the Third Reich. Medals adorned every chest and they carried themselves with an air of defiance, or stubbornness, or arrogance, or perhaps all three.
The Fighter Command colours were carried into the cathedral by Geoffrey Wellum, author of the classic Battle of Britain fighter pilot’s memoir First Light and one of the youngest pilots involved in the Battle. Now he was one of The Few capable of carrying the weight of their colours and he proudly led the parade past assembled serving and former prime ministers, senior military officers and guests, to hand them over to Prince Charles, parading that day in his RAF uniform. It was an honour to be invited to attend and experience such a moving finale to the Battle and see at first hand those who had ‘been there, done that’.
The Battle of Britain Day celebrations are still a significant annual event in the RAF to this day, with active bases celebrating on 15 September. Initially my access to such events was facilitated by the Station Commander in RAF Aldergrove, a station which enjoyed a long and cordial friendship with the Air Corps. It was always instructive to see the importance of remembering the Battle emphasised by higher authorities in the RAF and by today’s fliers. Even more impressive was the final flypast and victory roll overhead the Officers’ Mess by a Spitfire from the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight, at or just before sunset. This pattern is repeated at every airbase and seeing it later at RAF Northolt was also a great privilege, as that base is the last surviving operational air base from the Battle. The place positively reeks of history and this is underlined further by a visit to the Sector Operations Room, lovingly and voluntarily restored by an amateur group of history-minded enthusiasts.
At one such parade I was fortunate to meet with former Flt Lt William Buchanan Walker, who in 2012 was one of the last of The Few to whom so much was owed by The Many. He was shot down over the English Channel. Wounded in the leg and bleeding badly, he baled-out of his stricken Spitfire over the Goodwin Sands. He survived long enough clinging to a wreck on the Sands to be picked up by an RAF rescue launch, only surviving because the cold of the English Channel water stemmed the flow of blood from his wound. During our brief meeting he produced his keyring on which the offending bullet was dangling, extracted by the surgeons during the subsequent surgery on his leg.
William later wrote a poem in tribute to his comrades which is included on the Battle of Britain Memorial on the Cliffs of Dover at Capel-le-Ferne – a stone inscription which lists 2,937 names, some of them Irish, as Dan’s book now tells us. William’s poem ‘Our Wall’ tells of the:
many brave unwritten tales
That were simply told in vapour trails.
So it can be seen that, for this Irishman, the echoes of the Battle of Britain remain numerous and strong, even so long after the last combat concluded late in 1940. Long hidden shadows cast by Ireland and Irishmen in RAF service are no longer ‘unwritten’ and Dan Harvey now exposes their stories, told in detail and sensitively with the Irish context and perspective firmly in focus. Few, if any, books have examined the Battle of Britain from this side of the Irish Sea facing east when then, as now, the fate of our two island nations were never more closely intertwined. What hurts one, hurts all, and the implications for Ireland should England have fallen to the Nazi threat were clearly obvious and are explored in detail by Dan. Irishmen were to play their part in the worldwide conflict in every theatre and every service of every allied nation. It is appropriate that the feats of the Irish airmen who took part in what is probably the most famous air battle in history be recorded and their stories explored and put into context and committed to history.
If you have a love of flight, air battle and history, if you’ve ever looked up at the sleek shape of a Spitfire in flight and heard its beautiful engine at high power, if you want another window through which to view the Second World War, and the Battle of Britain in particular, then I highly recommend that you read on.
Paul Fry,
Brigadier General (Retd),
General Officer Commanding the Air Corps,
Dublin, Ireland.
PREFACE
The enemy Junkers 88s arrived in their standard V-shaped formation; their Messerschmitt fighter escort, 4,000 feet above and astern them, was ideally placed between the bombers and the sun. The formation’s height, bearing and numbers had, however, already been accurately detected and tracked by coastal radar stations. Their intended target anticipated, this was relayed from Fighter Command’s fighter control system, through Group Headquarters, to Sector Control, then on to the nearest appropriate airfields – those whose resident squadrons immediately ‘scrambled’ to intercept the incoming bombers. Scrambled, the Hurricane and Spitfire interceptors were up in the air in minutes, seeking to impede and obstruct; to take the fight to the heart of the enemy attack.
Radar and the Royal Air Force’s (RAF) Fighter Command and Control system gave the defenders a distinct advantage, providing an almost ‘real time’ picture of what was happening in the skies so the British fighters could be in the right place at the right time. This, in 1940, was new and sophisticated. Thereafter, it was height and speed that was important. The other crucial element for success in aerial combat was surprise: a sudden, unexpected attack by British fighters, preferably in numbers, to catch and cut off the main body of enemy bombers.
From early dawn, a large force from the Luftwaffe had launched a continuous series of determined day-time raids on southern English ports and the coastline. The RAF, Irishmen among them, had been involved in several intense aerial engagements, and now, once again, well into the afternoon, they were called into action.
On sighting the Junkers 88s, the Hurricanes, dived into the tight German bomber formation. The bombers broke formation and split in every direction, diving and jinking, some making for the nearest clouds, while their fighter escort entered combat in their defence.
The Spitfires now entered the fray, engaged the Messerschmitts, and a series of ferocious fighter-to-fighter dogfights erupted. The reality of aerial combat, with the high speeds of the fighter aircraft involved, meant that the majority of actual engagements lasted only seconds. It was important to get in close, fire in short bursts, then disengage, using speed to escape the scene. The enemy fighters had descended from above, having peeled off in ones and twos, and opened fire; they dived continuously, climbing up to regain position for a similar manoeuvre.
The RAF Spitfire pilots addressed the Messerschmitt threat while the Hurricane pilots concentrated on the destruction of the German bombers. The main objective was to knock them out of the skies.
One of these RAF pilots, newly qualified with less than ten hours flying time on Spitfires, found himself separated from his squadron leader. Acknowledging his lack of experience, the squadron leader had instructed the ‘novice’ to stay close; only in the midst of the heightened moment, he had not. Now alone, albeit in a crowded sky, the pilot wondered at the intensity and lightning speed of exchanges, and the