The RAF Air-Sea Rescue Service in the Second World War (Images of War)

IMAGES OF WAR

THE RAF AIR/SEA RESCUE SERVICE IN THE SECOND WORLD WAR

IMAGES OF WAR

THE RAF AIR/SEA RESCUE SERVICE IN THE SECOND WORLD WAR RARE PHOTOGRAPHS FROM WARTIME ARCHIVES

NORMAN FRANKS

First published in Great Britain in 2016 by PEN & SWORD AVIATION an imprint of Pen & Sword Books Ltd, 47 Church Street, Barnsley South Yorkshire S70 2AS Copyright © Norman Franks 2016 ISBN 978-1-47386-130-5 eISBN 978-1-47386-132-9 Mobi ISBN 978-1-47386-131-2 The right of Norman Franks to be identified as Author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the Publisher in writing.

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Contents Chapter 1:

The Beginning

Chapter 2:

The Walrus

Chapter 3:

How it was Done

Chapter 4:

The Pace Quickens

Chapter 5:

The Mediterranean

Chapter 6:

Around Italy

Chapter 7:

Towards D-Day and Beyond

Chapter One

The Beginning Few countries are ever prepared for war. Much thought may have been given to its possibility, some far-sighted people may have even started tentative planning, but most plans are so basic as to be almost useless. Traditionally Britain has never been ready, and once the inevitable happens it takes time to plan, produce, formulate and make effective whatever is deemed necessary to counter enemy aggression. In 1939 therefore, Britain’s Royal Air Force (RAF) had no bomber aircraft with which to attack Germany effectively, and any that might reach German targets had no effective method of finding it or of bombing it with any accuracy. The RAF’s Coastal Command had no real way of locating German U-boats, and if by chance one was found, either on the surface or just under it, had no effective ordnance to sink it. Fighter Command was receiving new monoplane fighters, but still few in number, and it was only due to the foresight of Air Chief Marshal Hugh Dowding, Fighter Command’s Air Officer Commanding, that the new range and direction-finding (RDF or radar) equipment was developed and brought into use. The basic thinking was that if Britain had to bomb Germany, it could do so as it had done in the First World War, from French airfields, and that any German bombers that attacked Britain would have to fly unescorted across the North Sea and fall prey to the RAF’s newly-equipped Hurricane and Spitfire squadrons. This consideration did not affect Coastal Command, which hoped to contain Germany’s seaborne aggression by bottling up its navy and preventing its exit from the Baltic, the enemy’s only access to the sea, and patrolling the comparative confines of the North Sea. The fall of France in June 1940 threw all that thinking into the wastebasket. Way down the list of priorities was any thought of what might happen if airmen should be forced down into the sea, either the North Sea or English Channel. Bomber and Coastal Command aircraft carried rubber dinghies should this happen; presumably it was thought that fighter pilots would have no business being over water, but just in case they were provided with life preservers – the famous yellow “Mae West” life vests. Even so, no real thought had been given to how to rescue any of these airmen, other than relying on the Royal National Lifeboat Institution or Royal Navy motor launches dotted around the ports of the UK’s south and east coastlines. In any event this would be a very hit-and-miss affair. A large aircraft coming

down at night in the North Sea would go largely unnoticed unless the radio operator had managed to broadcast an SOS signal and the aircraft’s rough position. Bomber crews carried a homing pigeon for belt-and-braces, with the assumption that a man in a sinking aeroplane is able to extract himself from the aircraft and collect the pigeon box! Even if a fighter pilot was unlucky enough to be over water when, say, his engine failed, other than a Mayday call (if he had time and was high enough for his call to be picked up), it would be pure luck if he was near enough to the coast for someone to spot his plight and call the police. It is not always appreciated that fighter pilots only began to carry dinghies as a matter of routine from June 1941. By then any number of pilots had been shot down into the Channel and lost, and Fighter Command had been operating over Northern France on the other side of the Channel since January of that year. What few people at the top seemed to have acknowledged was that the sea is cold – really cold. Forget ideas of the summer seaside, where families splash about happily in the sunshine; think of conditions in January, in the wind, rain and heavy seas. A man does not last long in such circumstances and a Mae West lifejacket only supports his head and shoulders out of the water, prolonging a painful and lonely death. The Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) had been responsible for rescue at sea throughout most of the First World War, but within days of the amalgamation of the RNAS and the Royal Flying Corps into the Royal Air Force on 1 April 1918, the Marine Craft Section (MCS) had been formed as part of the new organization. While never a large group, it was drastically reduced with the coming of peace, and in any event, most of these craft were used for a whole myriad of duties and not kept purely for chance rescues. However, there was a standing requirement for a boat to be available whenever aircraft were flying over the sea. It was not until the 1930s that High Speed Launches (HSLs), specially designed for rescue duties, were developed and added to the MCS fleet. With the outbreak of the Second World War, it was mostly the HSL units of the MCS that scooped up the majority of downed airmen around the coasts of Britain. However, as fast as these launches might be, and provided it was known where a downed airman was, it still took time to reach him – time the airman or airmen did not have. Speed was of the essence. It soon became apparent that aircraft would be faster at searching than boats and could cover more of the ocean, so the RAF started to form small Air/Sea Rescue (ASR) Flights during 1941 and had these dotted around the coasts. These Flights fielded a small number of aeroplanes at various locations to enable coverage of the southwest, south, south-east and east coasts. In the south-east sector for example, ASR aircraft were located at Shoreham, Hawkinge and Martlesham Heath

among other airfields, while the North Sea was covered by airfields including Matlaske, Coltishall and Bradwell Bay. At this stage these Flights were able to locate downed airmen, but had no way of helping them from the sea. They could drop a dinghy, which hopefully the airman was able to reach, but he may be wounded or already too cold to function. They could drop drinking water while the crew called up a rescue boat, but it would have to splash down very close by. In order to keep the man in sight they would drop a smoke float, as it was very easy to lose sight of a small object in the sea, which may only be a head and a portion of Mae West, and a clear sunny day could never be guaranteed. Rescue boats were generally alerted to operations being conducted over France, so a few might be located out in the Channel to be on hand in case of emergency, but again, there was no certainty of this. The first RAF aircraft used in the air-sea rescue role was the Westland Lysander, formerly employed for Army co-operation duties in support of land armies, but once France had fallen the aircraft had limited use. Being a comparatively slow high-winged aeroplane, it was ideal for searching expanses of water, its two-man crew being able to scour the wavetops at fairly low level. It was, however, vulnerable to attack and, while such instances were few, there was never any guarantee that some trigger-happy Luftwaffe fighter pilot might not ‘have a go’. After all, the Germans used the Heinkel He 59 twin-engined floatplane as a rescue aircraft, and the RAF had orders to attack them if sighted. In addition, the equally redundant Boulton Paul Defiant single-engined monoplane began to be used (those that were not being employed as nightfighters). While the Lysander carried two 0·303in forward-firing guns and two more in the rear cockpit, the Defiant had four 0·303in Browning machineguns in a power-operated turret but no forward-firing armament at all. A later addition to the ASR role was the Hawker Hurricane fighter, which provided an increase in the area of search as well as protection over the area in which Lysanders may also be operating. However diligent the Lysander or Defiant crews, there was still a number of cases in which an HSL arrived to discover the pilot or crew member had succumbed to the cold, and all they could do was bring the body home. It did not take a genius to work out that if the aircraft that found the downed airman could also land and get him out of the water, this would be a major step in saving the man’s life. There was a solution at hand. It was called the Supermarine Walrus amphibian.

Several companies built High Speed Launches. This example, HSL 2564, was 73ft (22·25m) long and built by Vosper Ltd of Portsmouth. These boats could carry a crew of up to ten RAF personnel and were armed with Lewis guns in case of air attack. In the early months of the war these boats were the main method of rescuing airmen from the sea.

The Westland Lysander. This view would have been a welcome sight to a downed RAF airman. It meant he had been found. However, a rescue launch still had to be guided in for the rescue. The boxes attached to the wheel fairings house a dinghy, while smoke bombs are attached to the rear underside of the fuselage. This machine was used by A

Flight of No 277 Squadron.

The ASR Flight at RAF Hawkinge, with resident Hurricanes in attendance. Again, the dinghy packs and smoke bombs may be seen. This Lysander had previously been with No 4 Squadron of Army Co-operation Command, and still carries that squadron’s TV code letters on the fuselage.

The Lysander provided a good viewing platform for both pilot and gunner. This is a No 278 Squadron aircraft at RAF Coltishall, while on the horizon sits a Supermarine Walrus amphibian.

Flight Sergeant J.B. Snell DFM helps the armourer re-arm the rear guns of his Lysander of A Flight, 277 Squadron. John Snell was awarded his Distinguished Flying Medal in early 1942 having taken part in thirty-one searches and eleven rescues, saving thirteen airmen. His award was an ‘Immediate’ DFM (recommended by a senior officer in respect of an act of bravery or devotion to duty deemed to command immediate recognition, rather than over a period of time) for helping direct a boat to four bomber crew members in the sea off the Isle of Wight.

Groundcrew fitting smoke-bombs to the underside of a Lysander of 277 Squadron. Note the trolley accumulator in the background, used for starting the aircraft’s engine.

John Snell DFM stands on the far right, while his usual pilot, Flying Officer J.A. Spence RCAF, oversees the fitting of a dinghy into its undercarriage housing. John Spence would later receive the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) and Bar for his rescue work with 277 Squadron.

Flying Officer Peter Jupp and Flight Sergeant G. Galloway with a Lysander of No 276 Squadron. Again we can see how good the viewing platform was with this type of aeroplane.

The Boulton Paul Defiant, obsolete as a day fighter by the end of 1940, became a nightfighter but was also used by ASR Flights. This aircraft, AA309, was used by 278 Squadron, having previously operated with No 96 Squadron. Note the radar aerial on the tip of the starboard wing.

Sergeant S.R. Weston (left) and Flight Sergeant D.A. Hartwell of 277 Squadron, with another clear view of the dinghy housing on the wheel fairing. Weston had quite an adventure on 21 July 1942 in a Walrus piloted by Flight Sergeant T. Fletcher. During take-off one of the wheels inadvertently came down, causing the Walrus to dig its lower wing into the water upon alighting, ripping off the float. The three men aboard managed to scramble out as the machine slowly turned over. Eventually they were rescued by an

HSL from Littlehampton.

Flight Sergeant T. McN. Ormiston (left) and Pilot Officer L.L. Nault RCAF of the ASR Flight at RAF Martlesham Heath, standing beside a Defiant. Tommy Ormiston was later promoted Warrant Officer and awarded the DFC for a rescue in a Walrus in June 1943. With his aircraft overloaded with several crewmen from a downed Handley Page Halifax, he was unable to take off and had to taxy back, while an air battle raged overhead.

Flying Officer S.A. Morrison of 277 Squadron standing in front of Defiant AA394 at Martlesham Heath. He and Sergeant Moule located a pilot in the water off Foulness on 10 July 1941, and managed to get the skipper of a nearby fishing boat to rescue him. Two days later this crew found another pilot in the sea off Dungeness and dropped a dinghy to him but he made no move to get into it. They then guided in a rescue launch but found the man, a Polish pilot, had perished. In April 1943 Morrison and Sergeant R. C. ‘Sticky’ Glew helped rescue Wing Commander P.H. ‘Dutch’ Hugo DFC, dropping smoke bombs and radioing for help. Hugo was picked up by a minelayer.

A 1942 gathering of 277 Squadron aircrew, all of which achieved successful rescues. On the wing are Flight Sergeants J. Horan and N. Pickles and Flying Officer D.G. Sheppard, and standing are Warrant Officer W. Greenfield, Flying Officer S.A. Morrison and Flight Sergeants W.A. Rance, V. Errington and Kirby.

Members of 278 Squadron pose in front of a Walrus at RAF Matlaske in Norfolk in March 1942. Front row, sitting, from left to right: Sergeant Knox-Williams RAAF; Flight Sergeant W.A. Land; Flying Officer S.A. Trevallion; Flight Lieutenant P.R. Smith; Pilot Officer Jessop; Flight Sergeant W.F. Sims. Standing, from left to right: Sergeant J. Bartles; Flight Sergeant C. Hogan; Flight Sergeant Atkinson; Sgt T. Templeman RCAF and Flight Sergeant S. Hurrell. Note the two wheel-wells in the Walrus’s lower wing into which the wheels retracted for sea landings. Trevallion and Templeton made the first official rescue by a 278 Squadron Walrus on 23 June 1942, taking aboard five crewmen from a Wellington of 115 Squadron.

Chapter Two

The Walrus The Supermarine Walrus was not a new aircraft. The prototype had made its maiden flight, as the Seagull Mk V, as far back as June 1933. Affectionately known by those who flew it as the ‘Shagbat’, it had initially been a private venture, an amphibian designed for use on board Royal Navy ships, but was subsequently developed for a Royal Australian Air Force Specification and selected for use in British service too, as the Walrus. Embarked in a ship, it would be fitted to a launch platform and catapulted off, the crew’s task being one of reconnaissance – locating ships out of sight of the mother ship – or communicating between other ships, or, when offshore, flying to a nearby naval air station, taking men, mail and sundry objects ashore. Once the job had been completed, the returning Walrus would alight close to its home vessel, water-taxy up to the ship and be hoisted back on to its catapult. Initially seeing British service with the Fleet Air Arm, the Walrus was taken on strength by the RAF from 1935, its potential for use on land as well as sea giving the Service a new and altogether different capability. Although it had a range of 600 miles (965km), its cruising speed was less than 100mph (160km/h), while its top speed was just 135mph (217km/h). The RAF’s Walrus II had a wooden hull and metal wingframes covered with doped fabric and was operated with a crew of four. It was not until 1941 that it was decided it would be a suitable aircraft for rescuing downed airmen. However, it was not totally ideal. It quickly became apparent that, while it could be used successfully in fine or even reasonable weather, the type had its limitations in poor weather conditions. In a rough sea it would ship water, invariably causing the radio to short out. On the water it was stabilized by two outer wing floats on the lower wings, but if either of these were torn off, it required one of the crew to make his precarious way to the end of the undamaged wing to help keep the floatless wing out of the water. On a wet, rough and windy day, this took some doing. When the Walrus began to be issued to the RAF’s ASR Flights, it soon became obvious that the crew of four would have to be reduced. Initially it went to three, but later shrank to just two. This was mainly to reduce overall weight, a point emphasized on the occasions when groups of airmen had to be rescued. In any sort of rough weather, the Walrus, if overloaded, had very little chance of taking off again, forcing the pilot to taxy back towards the English

coast, where, with luck, the aircraft may be intercepted by an approaching HSL, into which some or all of the rescued airmen could then be transferred. Any seriously wounded airmen could then be kept aboard the Walrus to be flown ashore for medical attention. As the war progressed, multiple rescues became increasingly common, especially when dealing with British and American bomber aircraft. The Boeing B-17 Flying Fortresses and Consolidated B-24 Liberators of the US Army Air Forces (USAAF) carried a crew of ten, which a Walrus crew would be hard pressed to get out of their dinghies and into the amphibian, with absolutely no chance of taking off again. However, the important point was, they were out of the water. If it was thought that an ASR operation might entail multiple rescues, two Walruses would be despatched, both of which would alight and share the ‘customers’ between them. By this time HSLs would be on their way to meet the two amphibians and embark their downed crews. It took courage to undertake these rescues, even in a calm sea. The two-man Walrus crew could not anticipate what they would find, and rescuing a wounded airman presented numerous difficulties. The crew had to have some idea of basic first aid, and if the man was wounded or even unconscious, his soaking-wet uniform added to the weight for the crew to hoist into the Walrus. Once aboard the crew would strip him of his wet clothing, wrap him in thick blankets and get some hot soup or coffee inside him while the pilot then endeavoured to get them home, either by flying or taxying. The ASR Flights became full squadrons in late 1941, but were in reality still a number of detached units spread around various locations. The first RAF ASR squadrons – Nos 275 and 276 – came into being in October 1941, covering the south-west of the UK from Valley in North Wales to Warmwell in Dorset. The next ASR unit, No 277 Squadron, was formed at Stapleford Tawney in Essex that December to cover the south-east, and would become the most busy airsea rescue unit, and thus the most prolific in terms of men rescued. Formed at Matlaske in October the same year, No 278 Squadron covered the east coast. While all the squadrons’ forerunner Flights had assisted in numerous rescues with their Lysanders and Defiants while co-operating with the MCS’s HSL units, ASR Walrus operations did not start until 1942. Flight Lieutenant R.F. Hamlyn DFM was a decorated Battle of Britain pilot when he took command of No 275 Squadron in October 1941. On 7 January 1942, flying a sortie from Valley, he and his crew were despatched to find the crew from an Avro Anson that had failed to return to its base at Penrhos the previous day. Hamlyn and his crew found the four men in a dinghy and alighted nearby, but could only take off with two of the men; they returned later and collected the second pair. While this was a red-letter day for the Walrus, 275 Squadron’s next recorded rescue did

not occur until 9 May. Again it was Ronald Hamlyn from Valley who located another four-man Anson crew in a dinghy by the side of the still-floating aircraft. An HSL was on its way, so Hamlyn alighted to give comfort to the men while they awaited the launch. The first Walrus rescue by 277 Squadron was performed on 1 June 1942. Flight Sergeant R.L. Stillwell DFM, another Battle of Britain veteran, had been forced to bale out over the Channel, but had given a Mayday call, alerting Sergeant J.S.G. Arundel at Martlesham Heath to fly to his aid. His crew were Sergeant Markey and Flight Sergeant N. Pickles. Ronnie Stillwell only had to wait two hours before he was picked out of the drink by the Walrus boys. Two days later Arundel was on the spot again, this time with Markey and Sergeant W.G. Bunn, to rescue the pilot of a Douglas Havoc. The pilot and his radar operator had been hit by ‘friendly fire’ during a Luftwaffe raid on Canterbury. The radar operator was lost but Arundel and his team safely rescued the pilot and brought him home. On 5 June Flight Sergeant K.A. Creamer and his crew rescued a Supermarine Spitfire pilot who had been shot down by a German Focke-Wulf Fw 190 forty-five miles (72km) off Selsey Bill in Sussex. On 18 June 1942 No 276 Squadron undertook its first rescue in a Walrus. Sergeant R.C. Yates, Flight Sergeant W. Smith and Sergeant L.G. Badger found the survivors of an Armstrong Whitworth Whitley of Coastal Command that had ditched three miles (5km) off Bude in Cornwall. Yates alighted and took the five downed crewmen aboard. With a total of eight people in the Walrus, Yates had to taxy into Bude harbour. The unit assisted in several other rescues but it would be 1943 before 276 Squadron made another Walrus pickup. Meanwhile, No 278 Squadron made its first Walrus rescue on 23 June 1942, Pilot Officer S.A. Trevallion and Sergeant T. Templeton flying out of Coltishall to rescue five men from the crew of a Vickers Wellington in their dinghy, sixty miles (97km) north-east of Cromer. The Walrus was guided to the dinghy by two circling aircraft; another Wellington and a Lockheed Hudson. Pilot Officer M.L. Freegard, of 115 Squadron, returning from Emden, had made a successful ditching in the sea, enabling his crew to clamber into the dinghy.Trevallion had to make three attempts to get airborne after picking the crew up, but finally struggled into the air and brought his charges home. The problem with an overloaded Walrus was that the pilot needed to reach a sufficient speed for the underside of the aircraft to become ‘unstuck’, by means of a process of getting the aircraft up on to what was called the ‘step’. The underside of the Walrus may be seen in two sections: the forward section, similar in shape and profile to that of of a boat, while from the mid-point to the rear section the hull slopes slightly upwards towards the tail. To get off the

water, the whole weight of the machine needed to be up on the forward section of the hull. Norman Pickles of 277 Squadron describes the following: ‘At last we enjoyed the thrill of picking up survivors, though sometimes we had the gruesome task of finding dead airmen. When unconscious they tended to float face downwards and we would try to recover their identity tags, which all personnel carried around their necks. Sometimes the flesh would be coming away from the skull. They would be bloated with foul gasses and when touched, would deplete like a pricked balloon. Soon aircraft were being fitted with inflatable rubber dinghies, which could be blown up with small cylinders of CO2 gas. These were easier to spot and the method of fishing them to our ’planes when we alighted on the water was in theory very easy. One crewmember opened the front hatch, the pilot taxied past the dinghy and the front hatch man had a boat hook with a detachable head fixed to a length of rope. The idea was that he hooked the dinghy and pulled back the pole. The rope was just long enough for the dinghy to float underneath the wing and end up at the rear hatch which was much lower in the water than the front one. The second WOp/AG would grab the boat and haul the occupant or occupants aboard. If there were only two aircrew in the Walrus, the men would have to scramble from front to rear and hope to be in time for the dinghy. On a few occasions I found it easier to jump out of the front hatch with the rope and clip it on to the dinghy, then clamber aboard and help the survivors over the rear hatch. Sometimes this wasn’t easy, as they could be badly wounded or even dead. The pilot was always reluctant to switch off the engine, as the procedure for re-starting was tricky. A crewmember had to climb out of the cabin and insert a crank handle in the motor, which was mounted between the wings. With both hands the handle had to be turned until sufficient revs were reached to keep the flywheel rotating. At this point the crank was withdrawn, a small magnetic handle rotated and, at the same time, a wire toggle was pulled which, if lucky, caused the engine to spring into life. All these tasks had to be performed whilst the hull was rocking and breaking with each breaker and when the prop finally sprang into life the blades were whirring a few feet from your head.’

A Supermarine Walrus II of No 277 Squadron. The engine faced aft in a ‘pusher’ configuration so that it was less vulnerable to splashing waves and spray. The elevators are similarly placed high on the fin to keep them away from the sea. Note the hull’s ‘step’ just aft of the port mainwheel.

Walrus II HD925, coded PU-S, operated solely for No 275 Squadron during its RAF career, which drew to a close when it was struck off charge in March 1947.

Members of 275 Squadron pose in front of an Anson. From left to right, standing: Flying Officer R. Hughes; Flying Officer F.O. Dimblebee; Squadron Leader R.F. Hamlyn DFM; Flight Officer P. Hastings; Flying Officer J.V. Renvoise and Flight Lieutenant N.H. Berryman. The three non-commissioned officers (NCOs) kneeling are not named. Ronald Hamlyn, seen here in civilian attire, participated in the first Walrus rescue for 275 Squadron, on 7 January 1942.

From left to right: Flight Sergeant W.A. Rance; Sergeant J.S.G. Arundel and Sergeant W.G. Bunn, of 277 Squadron. John Arundel was the pilot in the unit’s first two Walrus rescues, Bill Bunn accompanying him on the second. Sadly, Arundel and Bunn were shot down and killed by a German fighter on 25 July 1942.

A Walrus that has just lifted on to the ‘step’, shortly to become ‘unstuck’.

Crew members who formed No 277 Squadron from the original ASR Flight in 1941. From left to right: Leading aircraftman Whale; Sergeant T. Fletcher; Sergeant D. Hartwell; Pilot Officer J.A. Spence; Pilot Officer A. Hunt and Sergeants Paddy Patterson, W. Davies and S.R. Weston.

A Walrus of No 276 Squadron at rest off Salcombe in South Devon. The Walrus was equally at home on land, sea and air.

A Walrus of 276 Squadron in a revetment at RAF Harrowbeer, north of Plymouth in Devon. Note the Defiant in the next revetment to the left and the Spitfire out in the open on the airfield.

The crew of a 277 Squadron Walrus pick up a customer; the air gunner helps the downed airman into the aircraft’s rear hatch.

Smiles all round for these 277 Squadron aircrew members. From left to right: Warrant Officer W.A. Rance; Flight Sergeant V.H. Jarvis DFM; Flight Sergeant K. Hall; Pilot Officer L.L. Nault; Flight Sergeant T.M. Ormiston; Flight Sergeant V. Errington and Flying Officer S.A. Morrison. Sergeant Allan stands on the mainwheel. Victor Jarvis was 40 years old and had joined the RAF in 1921. He had been in an Army co-operation unit during the Battle of France. By the autumn of 1941 he had taken part in 39 search missions and six successful rescues and been awarded the DFM.

Sergeant T.H. Humphrey of No 278 Squadron. Note the cover over protect it from the winter elements. Trevor Humphrey was serving squadron, but when it was posted to the Far East, his CO suggested he based in the UK as Humphrey was married. After a period with 278, he

the engine to with a fighter move to a unit was posted to

another ASR unit in the Middle East.

Metal-hulled Walrus I L2181 was flown by Trevor Humphrey of No 278 Squadron, and was also used by the RAF’s School of Naval Co-operation at Lee-on-Solent. However, Humphrey was in Fleet Air Arm Walrus I L2307 on 17 July 1942 when he and another Walrus crew rescued the nine-man crew of a USAAF B-17. Both aircraft were overloaded and water-taxied some distance before the survivors were offloaded on to two HSLs.

Walrus X9521 in which Tom Fletcher rescued three German sailors on 14 December 1942. Smoke bombs were carried under the lower wings of the Walrus, as may be seen in this picture. Flying Officer D.A. Sheppard is leaning from the cockpit window while Sergeants J.S. Horan and T. Rance sit on the nose, first and second from the right. Norm Pickles stands below the cockpit. Pilot Officer R.A Morrison stands in front of the engine. Flight Sergeant Kirby sits on the wing root and Sergeant V. Errington is standing on the wheel chock.

Squadron Leader Ronald Hamlyn DFM, former Battle of Britain pilot, commanded 275 Squadron between October 1941 and December 1942. For his rescue work he was awarded the Air Force Cross on 1 January 1943.

A dot on the ocean. Trying to locate downed airmen in the water, even in two dinghies, was extremely difficult. The Walrus generally flew at low level, but the yellow marker dye from the dinghy soon dissipated in a strong swell.

One of the lucky ones to be found and taken aboard. The dinghy was slashed by the Walrus crew as it could not be taken back, and a dinghy left on the water might be mistaken for another rescue alert.

The ASR squadrons operated three main types of aeroplane. Nearest the camera in this 1943 photograph of No 276 Squadron aircraft at RAF Harrowbeer is an Avro Anson, used for long search patrols over the North Sea or over the Western Approaches; to the right is a Spitfire, used for spotting, and bringing up the rear is a Walrus, invaluable for sea rescues.

The Air/Sea Rescue Flight at RAF Hawkinge. Front row: Tom Fletcher; Doug Hartwell; A. Hunt; Johnnie Spence; Paddy Patterson; W. ‘Taff’ Davies and S.R. Weston. The airman in the middle of the second row is Leading Aircraftman Edward Buttery.

Chapter Three

How it was done As the ASR boys soon discovered when they began to fly the Walrus amphibians, it was going to take some practise if they were going to alight on the sea to rescue downed airmen. Simply alighting and pulling them into the seaplane was not going to be as easy as it might sound. Taxying an aircraft on water is very different from taxying one on land. A pilot needs to make allowances for the waves and the direction of the tides and, in the case of the Walrus, calculate how quickly he could get to the man in the water, assuming the latter was conscious and able. Although the pilot had assistance for the rescue, it helped if the downed airman was fit enough to catch a rope thrown to him and keep hold of it while the crew pulled the airman towards them. The rope would usually be thrown from the forward hatch; it was easier and further from the aircraft’s whirling propeller. Assuming the airman caught the rope, the Walrus would be set with the nose pointing into the direction of the waves, so that the airman would drift towards the aircraft and not away from it. If this all worked, the airman, either in a Mae West or preferably in a dinghy, could then come alongside the Walrus. The crew member in the front hatch would then let him drift back along the fuselage, under the lower wing until he reached the rear hatch. If a second crewman was in attendance he would then grab and secure the man or the dinghy. If there was only one crewman, in the nose hatch, he would then secure the rope and scramble back through the Walrus to the rear hatch and pull the man aboard. If there was a problem, both crewmen would work on getting the man into the aeroplane, or if only one, then the pilot would need to exit his seat, leave the Walrus idling, while he went back to assist. With the airman or airmen aboard, a crewman would slash the rubber dinghy with a knife, ensuring it deflated and sank. There was no room to pull it into the aircraft, and a drifting dinghy may well attract attention and possibly start a fruitless rescue sortie. Numerous ASR sorties began with the sighting of a dinghy, which then proved to be empty, and not because the ASR crew had failed to sink it, but because the dinghy had been automatically released and inflated following an aircraft ditching. Approaching a downed airman in the water, the Walrus pilot needed to take great care. It was easy to taxy too fast towards him, which at best might swamp him or tip him out of his rubber sanctuary if he was in a dinghy, or at

worst hit and injure him if he only had a Mae West. All would be well if the crewman in the front hatch successfully secured him by rope or boathook, but every situation was different, often depending on the state of the sea. Former Walrus crewmember Tom Fletcher explains the methods adopted when approaching a dinghy: ‘You normally had two choices. If your engine wouldn’t slow you down enough – some ran faster than others – or if you couldn’t get into wind, you might well approach too fast. In that case, you put your wheels down into the water. The other alternative was to put out drogues, but not if there was a chance of “Jerry” [German aircraft or boats] coming out. [Drogues] were pretty hefty things and it was not a good time to start hauling them back in quickly.’ Another factor was the location of the man in the sea. During No 277 Squadron’s operations for instance, he could be anywhere from just off the Kent, Sussex or Hampshire coasts to the middle of the English Channel or close to the enemy-held French shore. Most calls for rescue would come via Mayday calls from other pilots flying over the downed pilot, and once a position had been more or less established, the Walrus would head out. It may, however, be preceded by a Spitfire, the pilot of which would try to locate the target and finetune the airman’s location by radio. Each of the ASR squadrons was eventually equipped with Spitfires, and their pilots were skilled in locating the downed airmen, or ‘kippers’ as they were frequently referred to. Obviously, the further out the downed airman was located the more likely he was to be picked up by an aircraft rather than an HSL. Sometimes rescue attempts out as far as mid-Channel might involve a friendly race between launch and aircraft. However, if the customer was close to the French or Belgian coast, the boats would be more than happy to let the Walrus crew take the lead. Both, of course, could expect gunfire from the enemy coast, but at least the Walrus could get away more quickly once the rescue had been completed, unless, of course, it was a multiple rescue which prevented the Walrus from taking off, leaving it struggling to taxy northwards towards the distant English coast. As the Walrus crews became more proficient, and the air war expanded during the second half of 1942, ASR sorties increased. There also emerged a hardcore of pilots and gunners whose experience grew apace, their names being recorded regularly on the list of successful rescues. One name that featured regularly was Sergeant Tom Fletcher. Fletcher was in a reserved occupation when the war began but this did not stop him volunteering for aircrew. The recruiting officer was aghast when the

young man told him that not only did he want to join but also that he wanted to fly fighters with the RAF’s No 43 Squadron, as he knew some of its pilots. Fletcher was very much his own man and did not suffer fools gladly, and those who knew him were not in the least surprised that once he had trained as a pilot, he did indeed get posted to No 43 Squadron. His problem, however, was that he often flew in the face of officialdom and got himself into ‘hot water’, resulting eventually in a posting to air-sea rescue unit No 277 Squadron. Rather than kick against his hard luck, he took on his new role with determination, becoming the most successful – and most decorated – ASR Walrus pilot of the Second World War. He found a soulmate in Sergeant Len Healey, the two making up an extremely successful rescue team. One of Len Healey’s first rescues was while flying with Flight Sergeant J.L. Barber on 6 September 1942. Searches had been ongoing for a missing Spitfire pilot for nearly two days when Healey and Barber spotted the dinghy, alighted and pulled the pilot aboard. Flight Sergeant G.A. Mason’s fighter had been hit during a dogfight with Fw 190s and he had been forced to bale out over the Channel. Once the dinghy had inflated, a flow of yellow fluorescent dye, known as fluorescein, stained the water, helping any would-be rescuer to spot the small object in the huge expanse of water. Unfortunately it failed to help and, as night fell, George Mason continued to bob about in the freezing sea. He was off the French coast, north of Dieppe, and despite several aircraft passing close to him the following morning, nobody spotted him, until finally two Spitfires from a Polish squadron began to circle while calling a Mayday. All the time he was drifting nearer to the French coast and with a heavy sea, it seemed unlikely that a rescue Walrus would be able to alight, and by the time a boat might arrive, he would be on the hostile beach. Shortly, however, a Walrus appeared, circled and then alighted. As Mason recalled: ‘So steep were the waves that the hull of the Walrus completely disappeared in the troughs, and it seemed to be about to sink. But by skilful handling the pilot kept her position so that the dinghy drifted right up to the hatch, and I was hauled aboard by the hands of Len Healey, the Walrus gunner.’ Quite by chance, Mason and Healey knew each other from a hospital stay the previous year. What Mason did not know was that he was in the middle of a minefield. The circling Walrus crew, however, could see the mines clearly. Nevertheless, Johnny Barber alighted between two lines of mines, Healey pulled Mason aboard, and Barber took off, heading down the line of mines with enemy shellfire now exploding around them. Towards the end of the line of mines, it curved round, so Barber had to leapfrog them, before finally getting the Walrus into the air. Once on board, Healey said, ‘Is that you George?’ ‘Yes,’

said Mason, ‘is that you Len?’ Johnny Barber later noted: ‘The worst job was taking off. The wind was coming straight out of the sun and I had to take off into it, with the light flaring in my eyes. After the third attempt to rise, I opened the throttle, hung on like grim death and we bounced off wave after wave for about half a mile until, after much heaving on the control column, the Walrus lifted and we set off home’. Barber was awarded the DFM for this rescue, although it had not been his first. The Station Commander at the squadron’s base at Shoreham noted the following in his recommendation for the award: ‘I strongly endorse this recommendation. Flight Sergeant Barber’s record of rescues, culminating in his final effort just off Dieppe, reflects not only great gallantry and a strong sense of duty, but an ability without which the former qualities would have proved fruitless.’ Operating from Hawkinge on 2 October 1942, Healey was on a sortie with Tom Fletcher in the pilot’s seat when the pair helped to rescue Flight Sergeant M.H.F. Cooper, another Spitfire pilot shot down by Fw 190s off the French coast. Cooper’s leader had circled his wingman while making a Mayday call, but had to leave as his fuel was running low. At Hawkinge, a Lysander was scrambled with a Spitfire escort, neither of which, despite a wide search, was able to locate the downed airman. Another search team was despatched but also failed to find Cooper, whose section leader refuelled at base and flew back out to the spot. Fletcher and Healey joined the search and, with the help of the section leader, spotted the dinghy. Fletcher dropped a smoke-float in order to determine the wind direction. Again, the airman was in a German minefield, four miles (6·5km) north of Calais. The Royal Navy and HSL boys, Fletcher was told, had refused to go over, as the exact location of the minefield was not fully known. After Fletcher had alighted, Healey snagged the dinghy and began to pass it along to the rear hatch, where Flight Sergeant T. Roberts stood ready to get the man aboard. Gun batteries on the shore began firing at the Walrus, but Cooper was hauled aboard as Fletcher prepared to get airborne. It was Roberts’s first trip and he called Fletcher over the R/T to say he could see someone signalling from the shore. When he began calling out the letters, Fletcher yelled back to stop. What he was seeing was not Morse code, but gun flashes. Fletcher and Healey received DFMs for this rescue, while Roberts got a mention in despatches. It was not Cooper’s first experience of rescue – he had been shot down on 30 July and rescued by HSL. In August 1943 Cooper baled out over France but evaded capture and was helped by the Resistance. He

returned to England via Spain shortly before Christmas that year. Not all ASR operations had to deal with German minefields, but many did and it is worth recording another. On 31 October 1942 the Westland Whirlwind of Flight Lieutenant J.E. Van Shaick DFM was shot down by flak, the pilot ending up in his dinghy a few miles off Boulogne. Again it was 277 Squadron at Shoreham that got the call, sending out Pilot Officer T.E. Hilton and Flight Sergeant L. Seales. An initial search by a Lysander failed to find anything, but another Lysander spotted the dinghy and the Walrus was despatched. With a Spitfire escort, the Walrus circled the downed airman, the crew spotting that he had drifted into a minefield. Being close to shore, the arrival of either German fighters or E-boats – or both – not to mention gunfire, seemed inevitable. Tod Hilton selected his route to alight, but in order to put the machine between the lines of mines, he would have to alight with a stiff crosswind. He overshot the dinghy and had to make a turn before he could taxy back, passing between mines as he did so, with just 4ft (1 ·2m) to spare either side! Les ‘Dizzy’ Seales threw Van Shaick a rope and got the airman drifting to the rear, and then he and Hilton went back to the rear hatch to haul him aboard the Walrus. Back in the pilot’s seat, Hilton opened up and started his take-off run only to see a single mine directly in his path. Seales recalled: ‘We began taxying down a lane of mines, got our speed up and then, right at the end of the lane, there was a single mine which he hadn’t seen before, sealing off the lane. We were now under fire from the shore, not only light gunfire but from shore batteries as well. What would have happened if they’d hit one of the mines, I shudder to think. Seeing the mine was when the panic started. Tod was yelling back at me to come forward; we both grabbed hold of the controls, yanked back as hard as we could, feet-on-the-dashboard stuff, and then the suction of the hull suddenly broke and we were off. We didn’t hold the height but fortunately cleared the mine and dropped down the other side. After several bounces we got off, although we damaged a float, but we only realized this when we landed, as it was full of water and the wing dipped dangerously as we lost speed. Talk about landing on a wing and a prayer!’ Tod Hilton, an Australian, received the Distinguished Flying Cross for this effort, which rightly generated much favourable publicity for the often-unsung work of the ASR crews.

These first four pictures are staged to show what happens during a rescue (under reasonable conditions). The Walrus, having located the dinghy, flies past, the pilot determining the state of the sea and the way the tide is running. Note that the dinghy has a sea anchor to the left, helping to stop the inflatable drifting too much.

The Walrus, having alighted, taxys towards the downed airman. A crewman stands at the forward hatch, while a second crewman can be seen waiting at the rear hatch. It all seems pretty friendly in this staged sequence, with a lot of hand-waving.

Having thrown a line to the pilot, the crewman in the front hatch lets the dinghy drift back under the wing towards the rear hatch. Note that the starboard wheel has been at least partly lowered, helping to slow the Walrus down, and that the man in the dinghy appears to be hanging on to the port wheel that is slightly out of its well.

While it is unclear what is happening in this picture, it does show how a crewman is able to walk out on the lower wing in order to keep a damaged port wing or float out of the water. Exactly why another crewman would be standing on the engine is not known,

unless for some reason he is trying to see where the Navy ship is, sitting on the horizon. In any event, the sea looks pretty rough.

A smoke-float helped to indicate the course of the wind, while also being used to keep the dinghy in sight. The dinghy looks fairly small situated to the left of centre and could easily be lost to view unless the spot is marked.

A happy ‘kipper’ is seen here holding the paddles that are supplied with the dinghy. Before exhaustion set in, a downed airman may have paddled some distance, especially if he found himself drifting towards a hostile shore, but the tide would eventually win.

Four members of 277 Squadron demonstrating the size of a one-man dinghy following a rescue on 27 January 1943. From left to right: Flying Officer D.G. Sheppard; Flying Officer L.J. Brown; Flight Sergeant W.J. Horan and Warrant Officer W. Greenfield, the latter two of which had ditched their Defiant twenty-five miles (40km) off the Suffolk coast following engine trouble. Both had to struggle to stay in the dinghy before their rescue by Sheppard and Brown. ‘Kiwi’ Horan was killed in Burma in 1945. Leonard Brown later commanded 277 Squadron.

Spitfires were increasingly used as search aircraft by the ASR squadrons. They not only increased the chances of spotting airmen in the water but could also provide cover to the rescue aircraft and boats should the enemy show an interest. This Spitfire II, P8131, was used by 276 Squadron and is seen here being equipped with dinghy packs.

Spitfire II P8375 operated with 277 Squadron, and is seen here with search pilot Sergeant J. Brodie. The fighter had previously been on the strength of Nos 602 and 71 (Eagle) Squadrons. It has yet to have 277 Squadron’s ‘BA’ identification codes painted on.

Pilot Officer J.A. Spence DFC RCAF (centre) of 277 Squadron, with his gunner Flight Sergeant J.B. Snell (right) in front of a Lysander. The pair are discussing operations with the unit’s Intelligence Officer, Flying Officer A.J. Harman. Johnny Spence later received a Bar to his DFC and Johnny Snell was awarded the DFM. Spence’s first DFC was awarded for seven successful rescues and for surviving an encounter with an Fw

190, despite the German fighter’s best efforts.

Members of 277 Squadron. From left to right: Flying Officer Bob Holland; Sergeant Tom Fletcher; Flying Officer M.F. Dekyvere; Pilot Officer R.F. Harris; Warrant Officer Norman Peat RCAF; Pilot Officer Hubbard and Flying Officer Johnny Barber DFC. Peat survived an encounter with Fw 190s on 12 August 1942 while on an ASR sortie in a Lysander. Marcel Dekyvere was an Australian, who would later be awarded a DFC. Peat was lost off Tunisia in May 1943, while serving with No 283 Squadron.

Sergeant Len Healey, Fletcher’s regular crewman, was also decorated and was credited with saving many lives. The two men and their wives rented a bungalow at Lancing, and each time they returned to Shoreham they would fly over it to let them know they were safely back.

Sergeant Tom Fletcher of 277 Squadron; the most successful and most decorated ASR Walrus pilot of the Second World War.

Flying Officer G.A. Mason of No 64 Squadron. Shot down on 6 September 1942 as a Flight Sergeant, he was rescued by Johnny Barber and Len Healey. George Mason and Healey knew each other from an earlier encounter while in hospital.

Sergeant (later Flight Lieutenant) Tod Hilton RAAF. He was awarded the DFC for a daring rescue in a minefield off the French coast on 31 October 1942, while serving with

277 Squadron.

Flight Lieutenant J.E. Van Shaick of Westland Whirlwind unit No 137 Squadron. Tod Hilton and Dizzy Seales famously rescued him from a minefield off the French coast on

31 October 1942.

From left: Sergeant Les Seales; Pilot Officer Eddie ‘Quickly’ Quick and Pilot Officer C.G. Walker of 277 Squadron. Seales was with Tod Hilton during the minefield rescue on 31 October 1942, and he and Eddie Quick were ‘Dek’ Dekyvere’s crew when they rescued a French Spitfire pilot in mid-Channel on 11 November the same year. Walker flew with various pilots during 1942–44 and was involved in the last of 277’s rescues in December 1944.

The rescue of Frenchman Bernard Scheidhauer on 11 November 1942 had a sad ending, as he was later shot down over France, ending up in Stalag Luft III. Among the prisoners to get away in the Great Escape in March 1944, he was recaptured, and was one of the fifty escapees shot by the Gestapo. He was murdered alongside Roger Bushell, the man behind the escape. From left to right: Dizzy Seales; Bernard Scheidhauer; ‘Dek’ Dekyvere and Eddie Quick.

Spitfire P8565, coded AQ-H and named City of Leicester II, was used in the spotting and escort roles by 276 Squadron. The Spitfire had earlier seen service with Nos 118 and 124 Squadrons.

Flying Officer Ken Butterfield standing in the cockpit of a Walrus of 276 Squadron. He later received the DFC for his rescue work.

Chapter Four

1943 – The Pace Quickens The year 1943 saw a massive increase in sea rescues by the RAF’s Walrus squadrons, although undoubtedly the men involved thought they had been more than occupied the previous year. By this time Walrus pilots and crewmembers had honed the act of rescue to a fine art, and while any single rescue was far from routine, their experience was certainly paying off. The least busy ASR unit was No 275 Squadron – motto: ‘They shall not perish’ – which covered the west coast of the UK, and while it actually recorded no pick-ups during 1943, it undertook numerous searches and often directed surface vessels to where downed airmen were located. More often than not, these were multiple rescues, there being few single-seat aircraft down, as opposed to multi-engined machines with several men aboard. Likewise, No 276 Squadron – motto ‘Retrieve’ – had only recorded one sea rescue when the work rate increased in 1943. The unit’s first was on 23 February when Pilot Officer F.O. Dimblebee, with Flight Sergeant R. Davies and Pilot Officer R. Hughes, operating out of Predannack in Cornwall, rescued a Spitfire pilot south-west of The Lizard. On 14 April Flying Officer D.J. McBrien, with Sergeants E.G.A. Sotheron-Estcourt and L.G. Badger, located the crew of an Avro Lancaster that had ditched fifty miles (80km) from Falmouth on its way back from Italy. The Walrus crew alighted and took on board all seven of the Lancaster’s crew until a launch arrived to take them back to shore. This rescue took the squadron’s total of lives saved by their actions to 100. The very next day the unit was called on to rescue the crew of one of its own Walruses, which had hit an underwater obstruction while practising alighting on the sea. The Walrus was close to the shore so the rescue came quickly. The pilot of a Defiant circling the scene spotted a shark, and it was thought that the Walrus may have hit one, ripping the bottom of the fuselage open. During three more rescues in April, No 276 Squadron operated from Harrowbeer, Bolt Head and Warmwell, illustrating the dispersal of the squadron’s crews. A rescue performed on 18 April 1943 involved a Spitfire pilot who had been shot down seven days earlier off the Cherbourg coast. An Anson was sent to search, but found nothing. Further searches failed to find any trace of the Spitfire or its pilot, but, quite by chance, the downed airman was spotted by the crew of another RAF aircraft, resulting in the arrival of Frank Dimblebee, Flight Lieutenant G. Hastings and Sergeant C. Taylor in a Walrus. They radioed a

location fix but a rough sea made alighting difficult. A boat was on its way and ‘Dim’ Dimblebee turned for home, but another Walrus was quickly on the scene, with Flying Officer D.R. ‘Tiny’ Martin and Pilot Officer R. ‘Spike’ Hughes on board. By this time it was dark, but aided by flares they alighted and picked up the pilot who was, by now, in a very bad way. The Walrus had been badly damaged by the sea and so had to taxy back to shore. It took several hours, but they made Mullion Cove in the early hours, despite losing four of the Pegasus engine’s nine cylinders owing to waves breaking over the aircraft. Derick Martin received the DFC for this and previous rescues. His citation read: ‘In air-sea rescue operations this officer has displayed great gallantry and skill. This was well illustrated on one occasion when he brought his aircraft down on to a rough sea at night by the aid of flares, and picked up a pilot who had been in his dinghy for nearly eight days. Three days earlier [Martin] picked up three airmen who were adrift in the sea. Flying Officer Martin has displayed great keenness and unflagging devotion to duty.’ Rescues by No 277 Squadron – motto ‘We save by seeking’ – did not slacken either. The problem of multiple ‘customers’ made it necessary to send out more than one Walrus now that larger aircraft were starting to ditch in the Channel or the southern North Sea area. On 11 April 1943 the crew of a Short Stirling was forced to ditch returning from Frankfurt, and two Walruses, crewed by Pilot Officer N. Mackertich, Sergeants H.H. Teillet and Tom Fletcher and Flying Officer M.G. Chamberlain, were despatched from Shoreham. Noel Mackertich alighted, but it was his first sea rescue and he approached the dinghy too fast, knocking the downed aircrew into the water. Eventually Mackertich got seven men aboard, while Tom Fletcher alighted and picked up an eighth man who was seen to be drifting away, having been dragged away from the others during the first attempt. Even so it was not straightforward, as Tom Fletcher recalled: ‘Chamberlain was in the front with a boathook, with the right length of cable attached to reach back to the rear hatch, the cable fastened to the front bollard. If a chap was in the water, you’d put your wheels down anyway to slow right up, so he wouldn’t be dragged along and maybe drowned. Chamberlain hooked him and then went back inside the fuselage to catch him down the back. He reached the rear hatch and the next thing I heard was a yell from Chamberlain for help. I immediately dashed back and the [downed airman] had turned into a raving lunatic! To get him in he had to hit him in the middle to make him double up, then pushed him in. This was the sort of thing that killed some people. It wasn’t the cold, it wasn’t anything to do with the sea; it was delayed shock. When they hit the

water, they had something to fight for. They were busy and they could survive that. Immediately they knew they were safe, say a boat comes alongside, then the shock takes over, and it was that which was the killer.’ Three days later it was another rescue of squadron-mates. Johnny Barber and Len Healey were over the Channel on a search when their Walrus was attacked by a Messerschmitt Me 109 and shot down. Fortunately they survived a ditching and Shoreham sent out Pilot Officer R. Hayes, Sergeant A. Kelly and Pilot Officer Chamberlain, who rescued them. The German pilot, Oberfeldwebel Reiner Pöttgen of Luftwaffe unit 3./JG27, erroneously claimed a Supermarine Stranraer flying-boat on this date. April 1943 was proving to be a busy month. On the 15th Warrant Officer A.K. Saunders, with Flight Sergeants R.C. Glew and F. Gash, rescued Lieutenant Colonel Chesley Peterson, Commanding Officer of the USAAF’s 4th Fighter Group (FG), who ditched his Republic P-47 Thunderbolt thirty miles (48km) out to sea during Rodeo 204, a fighter sweep over enemy territory. Peterson had been a member of the RAF’s No 71 Sqn, one of the Eagle Squadrons crewed by American volunteers, before gaining command of the 4th FG. His rescuer, Keith Saunders, came from New Zealand, and was known as ‘Kiwi’ – apparently not because of his nationality, but because he was a kiwi-fruit farmer. The first recorded sea rescue by Squadron Leader A.D. Grace, flying with Flying Officer M.F. Dekyvere and Les ‘Dizzy’ Seales, occurred on 17 April 1943, when they rescued a Spitfire pilot who had been shot down by a Fw 190. The Spitfire pilot was wounded, added to which his dinghy had failed to inflate. However, the Walrus crew got to him quickly. Alan Grace was approaching his 35th birthday and had been in the RAF since 1932. Soon after this rescue, 277’s CO, Squadron Leader A.S. Linney (awarded an OBE in June 1943) relinquished his command, handing over to Leonard Brown. Grace took command of the squadron’s Hawkinge Flight. On 11 May 1943 Noel Mackertich, with Sergeant Teillett, rescued a Hawker Typhoon pilot who had been found by Pilot Officers R. Eccles and C.G. Walker in a Defiant. This was Dick Eccles’s first real encounter with a rescue, and he would later see much more activity in the Middle East. On the last day of May, Flight Sergeant T.M. Ormiston and crew picked up a German Fw 190 pilot, although they had been searching for a missing Spitfire pilot. Leutnant Alois Harlos of Luftwaffe unit SKG 10 had gone into the sea the previous day following a ‘tip-and-run’ raid near Frinton-on-Sea on the Essex coast. By this time 277 Squadron was also reaching its 100th rescue. On 12 June Warrant Officer W. Greenfield, along with Warrant Officer W.A. Rance and Flight Sergeant N. Leighton, made the unit’s ninety-ninth rescue and, later in the

day, Greenfield, Rance and Flight Sergeant Stirling were out again, rescuing an American P-47 pilot from the 4th FG. Another USAAF fighter pilot was rescued on 15 June, this time by Fletcher and Healey, with Sergeant E.G. Green assisting. Lieutenant Deacon Hively was also a 4th FG pilot, and would go on to become a successful ace of the US Eighth Air Force. There was another dual rescue on 22 June when Greenfield, Horan and Leighton were joined by Ormiston, Errington and Mann to collect the crew of a Halifax that had ditched after having been hit by flak off the Dutch coast during a bombing sortie to Krefeld. It was so close to the enemy coast that permission had to be given for this rescue. This called for a rendezvous with Typhoons near the location of the dinghies, the Typhoons later being relieved by four of 277 Squadron’s Spitfires. These in turn would be relieved by more Typhoons the next morning, the bomber crew having to spend the night on the water. When the two Walruses alighted, Bill Greenfield took on board the pilot and two of his crew, while Tom Ormiston collected the other four, both machines being overloaded. Norman Leighton later recalled: ‘The sea was very bad and the waves were frequently washing over our aircraft, so we taxied for about thirty minutes. We were getting really buffeted about so our pilot decided to try to get airborne. I was sitting in the second pilot’s seat [the Walrus had dual controls] and Greenfield told me to hang on to the joystick; when he gave the word I was also to pull back on the stick. We opened up to full throttle and started “porpoising” very badly. We also had a massive wave approaching and Greenfield yelled, “Pull!” We just managed to skim the top of the wave and we were airborne. As we climbed to about 200ft [60m], two fighter aircraft in an unusual greenish-blue camouflage flew past at a distance of about 50yd [46m]. I gave them the two-fingered victory sign and I am sure one of the fighter pilots responded in similar fashion.’ Leighton assumed that they had been part of the promised escort, but after landing back at base he discovered that the Spitfires had been in a scrap with some greenish-blue Fw 190s. Leighton promptly signed up for a refresher course in aircraft recognition! Meanwhile Ormiston was having great difficulty trying to taxy towards England and eventually the Walrus ran out of petrol. Some of the time the escorting Spitfires were radioing down to guide him through minefields. Finally a motor torpedo boat arrived and the survivors and the Walrus crew were taken aboard, leaving the aircraft to its fate. Oddly enough, it survived and later beached itself on the English shore. Squadron Leader Brown was keen to

salvage it, and, taking four groundcrew with him, drove to Felixstowe where an HSL was to take them out. However, it transpired that a Royal Navy destroyer had already found the Walrus and was towing it, Brown watching as it wallowed and floundered through a very rough sea. Brown took charge and got his men aboard, made the towrope more secure and set about bailing out the water until they reached Harwich. Tom Ormiston received the DFC for his rescue, although the citation recorded it as occurring in July. Towards the end of July 1943, 277 Squadron managed to rescue two Spitfire squadron commanders. Flight Sergeant J. Brodie, with Flying Officer F.E.Wilson and Sgt J. Mallinson, saved Squadron Leader G.C. Keefer DFC RCAF on the 27th, while Squadron Leader Grace, with Warrant Officer J. Butler and Sgt J. Humphreys, retrieved Squadron Leader R.W. ‘Buck’ McNair DFC RCAF. McNair had received some facial burns but the crew administered first aid while flying back to base. Both pilots were highly successful fighter aces. On 30 July Doug Hartwell of 277 Squadron, with Wilson and Mallinson, rescued five crewmen from a USAAF B-17. The other five crewmen had baled out over Holland, but Lieutenant R.B. Jutzi and the others decided to try for home but came down in the sea. Hartwell, overloaded, had to taxy back to England. The same day, Flight Sergeant Brodie, with Warrant Officers Butler and Rose, rescued an American P-47 pilot who had been escorting a bomber raid to Kassel. An unusual rescue occurred on 4 August involving Alan Grace. Scrambled from Hawkinge Grace and his crew were told of customers ten miles (16km) off Gravesend in Kent, and nearing the spot found Spitfires circling. On closer inspection, he saw not dinghies but canoes. He alighted and shut down the engine, allowing the four canoeists to paddle up to the Walrus, where they climbed aboard along with their equipment. The Walrus gunner fired into the canoes but they failed to sink, so as they departed the Spitfires were ordered to blast them into oblivion. It turned out that the four men were Special Boat Service commandos who had been sent on a reconnaissance of the east pier at Dunkirk harbour. They were spotted just a few yards from the shore and fired upon, being forced to retire out to sea. They were unable to locate the Motor Gun Boat (MGB) that had brought them across so had no alternative but to paddle back across the Channel. Grace was to the fore again on 17 August, along with Butler and Rose, when the crew was sent out to rescue the ten-man crew of an American B-17. It was the day the Americans made their famous raid on Schweinfurt, losing more than sixty bombers, one of which was flown by Eugene Lockhart on his twenty-first mission, but which failed to get back across the Channel. Grace was accompanied by another Walrus but once he had alighted he realized it was too dangerous for the other pilot to alight, so warned him off. Taking all ten men

aboard his own Walrus, Grace began the long taxy home. A Spitfire escort was provided by Pilot Officer R. S. Kipping and Sergeant K. Moore of No 277 Squadron. In 1943 No 278 Squadron – motto ‘From out of the sea to strike again’ – also saw a marked increase in rescues, beginning with that of a Spitfire pilot on the evening of 24 February. This was undertaken from RAF Coltishall, from where Flight Sergeant G.B. Reeder and Pilot Officer A. Dunhill were despatched. On 15 March Squadron Leader T.H.V. Pheloung RNZAF, CO of 56 Squadron RAF, had to abandon his Typhoon after being hit by fire from a flak ship. Flying Officer W.F. Sims, with Flight Sergeant F.J. Hall, located him thirty-five miles (56km) off the Norfolk coast and picked him up. Sadly, Pheloung was killed in action on 20 June during a Roadstead low-level attack on enemy shipping. Quite by chance my wife and I went for a weekend to Bexhill-on-Sea in East Sussex in the late 1990s, and, during our visit, I spotted a 278 Squadron badge on a wall. Remarking about this to the owner of the property, Mrs Sims, she was amazed, for I was the first person ever to recognise the badge and know anything about the squadron her late husband had served in. The photograph of Walter Sims in this book came from her. At the beginning of April 1943 No 278 Squadron lost its Commanding Officer, Squadron Leader P.R. Smith. In the late afternoon a Spitfire pilot was reported down in the North Sea and Smith took off in an Anson for a night search with four crewmembers. There was a brief report from the crew of the Anson that they were being fired at – then silence. The aircraft did not return. Another Typhoon pilot was rescued by 278 Squadron on 14 May by Flight Lieutenant S.A. Trevallion (who would assume command of 278) and three crewmembers. One of the latter was Flight Officer W.A. Land, who recalled that they had been engaged on a training exercise when a Mayday call diverted them. Arriving at the spot, they found another Typhoon circling and alighted in a choppy sea. The downed airman, Pilot Officer R.H. Milne, came close to the rear hatch where two men were ready to grab him; at the last moment the rough sea took him away from their eager hands. Ramsey Milne took hold of the tail assembly cables and was pulled out of his dinghy into the freezing water. He let go and Stan Trevallion manœuvred around again, and this time the two crewmen hauled him aboard. Milne later recalled: ‘Two pairs of hands were waiting and quickly pulled me aboard. They put a blanket over me and I sat in the bottom of the aircraft, took off my shoes and I knew I was back in the land of the living’. He continued: ‘Words cannot express my feelings as I sat there shivering, looking at these two fellows who hauled me out of the water. They were apologizing for missing me on the first attempt and me to them for hanging on the wires. The pilot, too, stuck his head round, saying sorry for the muck-up, and was I OK? I don’t remember thanking him but did so when we

were on dry land. I looked him in the eye and nodded; words would not have done it.’ A month later Trevallion picked up eight survivors from a B-17 and, being unable to take off, made a rendezvous with an HSL, on to which the crew was transferred. On 22 June Bill Land, now in command of his own Walrus, rescued the crew of a Halifax. As an aside, the following month the same Halifax crew was shot down by a German nightfighter on the night of 3/4 July and did not survive. Their victor, Oberleutnant Siegfried Wandam, was killed an hour later. Several more rescues were completed in July and August, including that of Spitfire squadron commander Squadron Leader E.F.J. Charles DFC on 25 July by Flight Officer V.A. Hester, Flight Sergeant J.F. Neal and Pilot Officer A. Dunhill. The next day Warrant Officer G.B. Reeder RAFVR and Flight Sergeant C.W. Rolls, along with Bill Land and Pilot Officer C.G. Scott DFM, rescued a B17 crew off the Norfolk coast. Sharing the ten survivors between the two Walruses, neither was able to take off until they transferred their passengers to an HSL. George Reeder then took off, but Land had to be towed into Great Yarmouth having had his Walrus damaged by the sea. The B-17 crew gave Bill Land a French 50-franc banknote, signed by the crew. The last recorded sea rescue by 278 Squadron was made by Walter Sims on 20 August, when he and Dunhill picked up four men from a Dutch North American B-25 Mitchell squadron, brought down during a raid on Flushing.

Seven of the No 75 (New Zealand) Squadron Short Stirling crew rescued by Noel Mackertich and Tom Fletcher of 277 Squadron on 11 April 1943, when Mackertich accidentally tipped them out of their dinghy. They have been given ill-fitting uniforms after their arrival back at Shoreham. From left to right, standing: Flight Sergeant G.K. Sampson; Sergeant W.A.M. Hardy; Sergeants R.D. and R.E.Tod (who were twins) with their pilot Flight Sergeant C.A. Rothschild between them. Kneeling: Sgts H.E. Moss (left) and J.L. Richards. Sergeant E. Grainger (not in this picture), Richards and the two Tod boys (from New Zealand) were lost on 23 June 1943. Sampson was killed the same night, but flying with another crew.

Lieutenant Colonel Chesley G. Peterson (second from left) and his wife share a joke with Gravesend Station Commander Wing Commander R.C. Wilkinson DFM (furthest left) and Wing Commander A. Linney, former Commanding Officer of 277 Squadron, in April 1943. Peterson, rescued on the 15th of that month, presents a cheque for £100 while being given a model of a Walrus.

Warrant Officer A.K. Saunders of 277 Squadron with his bride Becky. ‘Kiwi’ Saunders rescued Chesley Peterson, commander of the USAAF’s 4th Fighter Group, on 15 April 1943. Saunders went on to receive the DFC and American Air Medal.

Officers of 276 Squadron in April 1943. From left to right, top step: Warrant Officer L. ‘Pop’ Ewens; Flying Officer K.S. Butterfield; Squadron Leader B.H. Bowring (later Commanding Officer of 278 Squadron), while in front sits Sergeant R. ‘Ginger’ Churchill.

On 12 June 1944 No 276 Squadron recorded its 100th live rescue. This photograph was taken a few days later, the unit’s total by then having reached 106, with 35 assists. Front circle, from left to right: Flight Lieutenants P. Hastings, J.V. Renvoize, D.J. McBrien; Squadron Leader R.F. Hamlyn DFM; Flight Lieutenant F.O. Dimblebee; Pilot Officer Hoskins; Flight Lieutenant Pushman. Rear rows, from left to right: Warrant Officer G. Douglas; Flying Officer Brooks; Sergeant A.H. Kyle; Sergeant L.G. Badger; Flying Officer D.R. Martin; Flight Sergeant Kirkby; Flying Officer K.A. Butterfield; Flight Sergeant G. Galloway; Pilot Officer L. Ewens and Sergeant A.V. Dorman.

Flight Sergeant R.S. ‘Sticky’ Glew DFM of 277 Squadron. He was one of Saunders’s crewmembers on 15 April. He was killed serving in Italy in 1944.

Squadron Leader Jack Charles DFC RCAF, CO of 611 Squadron, baled out of his Spitfire on 25 July 1943. A successful fighter pilot, he ended the war with 16 victories, a DSO and a Bar to his DFC as well as the American Silver Star.

Flying Officer Vic Hester of 278 Squadron rescued Jack Charles close to Borkum Island on 25 July 1943.

Squadron Leader (later Wing Commander) Alan D. Grace, CO of 277 Squadron’s Hawkinge Flight. He rescued Squadron Leader R.W. ‘Buck’ McNair DFC, CO of 421 Squadron RCAF on 28 July 1943, and also picked up four commandos paddling back from the French coast on 4 August. He later received the DFC.

Squadron Leader R.W. ‘Buck’ McNair DFC and Bar, RCAF, rescued by Alan Grace on 28 July 1943. Note some facial burns, inflicted while taking to his parachute.

Three stalwarts of 277 Squadron. From left to right: Reg Hayes, Les ‘Dizzy’ Seales and Dick Eccles.

Warrant Officer Norman Leighton, Flight Sergeant R. Davies and Flight Sergeant Norm Pickles of 277 Squadron. All flew many searches and rescues. Note the use of binoculars, essential in trying to locate a downed airman or dinghy in a vast expanse of water.

All smiles at a 277 Squadron wedding reception. From left to right: Flying Officer Ken Creamer; Flight Sergeant ‘Ned’ Kelly; Sergeant H.H. ‘Teddy’ Teillet and Sergeant Ray Powell. Kelly was killed in August 1944, while Powell, flying a search Spitfire, was hit by flak off the French coast and killed. Creamer often flew search Spitfire sorties.

Squadron Leader Leonard Brown, CO of 277 Squadron, congratulates Bill Greenfield, Norman Leighton and Bill Rance on the occasion of the Squadron’s ninety-ninth and 100th rescues on 12 June 1943. On 20 July Greenfield received the American DFC, while Norman Leighton was awarded the American Air Medal. The Americans also awarded Air Medals to ‘Kiwi’ Saunders, Tom Ormiston and Stan Trevallion on the same date.

Flight Sergeant Tony Egerton-Green (furthest left) of 276 Squadron helps squadronmate Sergeant A.H. Kyle (second left) assist rescuee Pilot Officer N.V. Borland RCAF (second from right) of 266 Squadron while a medical officer looks on, following Borland’s rescue on 21 June 1943. Kyle was one of the Walrus crew captained by Flight Lieutenant D.J. McBrien, along with Flying Officer A.B. Hill. The crew would normally strip the rescued airman from his wet uniform and wrap him in a thick blanket.

Sergeant Archie Kyle of No 276 Squadron helps Pilot Officer Borland from a Walrus on 21 June 1943 following the latter’s retrieval from the sea. A 276 Squadron medical officer is there to help. Note the sidearm carried by Kyle, in case a ‘kipper’ turns out to be German.

Members of 276 Squadron pose in front of one of the unit’s Spitfires. Squadron Leader Ronald Hamlyn DFM sits astride the cowling. The others, from left to right, are: Flying Officer P. Hastings; Pilot Officer F.O. Dimblebee; Flight Lieutenant J.V. Renvoize; Flying Officer D.R. Martin; Flight Lieutenant D.J. McBrien and Pilot Officer R. Hughes.

Warrant Officer W. Greenfield is seen here wearing his American Distinguished Flying Cross, awarded on 20 July 1943. He and his crew had picked up two fighter pilots on 12 June, one being an American Thunderbolt pilot.

Lieutenant E.D. Beatie of the USAAF’s 4th FG baled out of his P-47 Thunderbolt on 12 June 1943 as a result of engine failure. He was the 100th airman to be rescued by 277 Squadron. Ed Beatie is seen here in his RAF uniform, having been with one of the RAF’s Americancrewed Eagle Squadrons before transferring to the USAAF.

Members of 277 Squadron pose for a group photograph. Standing, from left to right: Johnny Barber; Hubbard; R. Holland; unknown;Tom Fletcher;Teddy Teillett; Norman Peat; G.G. Wirdnam; Kiwi Saunders. Kneeling, from left to right: Flight Sergeant Duke; ‘Dek’ Dekyvere and ‘Dizzy’ Seales. Peat and Wirdnam were lucky to escape the attention of two Fw 190s on one occasion; while Peat got his Lysander down to wavetop height, Wirdnam fought off the German fighters with his rear gun, and possibly shot one down.

Squadron Leader G.C. Keefer DFC RCAF, CO of 412 Squadron RCAF, rescued by a Walrus of 277 Squadron off the French coast during the early evening of 27 July 1943.

Flight Lieutenant P.R. Smith, OC 278 Squadron, who went missing in an Anson on a night search-and-rescue sortie over the North Sea on 4 April 1943.

Flight Lieutenant Walter Sims of 278 Squadron. Sims rescued the Commanding Officer of 56 Squadron, Squadron Leader T.H.V. Fheloung RNZAF, on 15 March 1943, and the crew of a Dutch B-25 bomber on 20 August the same year.

One of the Avro Ansons used by 278 Squadron for long search operations over the North Sea.

Pilot Officer Ramsey H. Milne, rescued by Flight Lieutenant S.A. Trevallion of 278 Squadron, on 14 May 1943. Milne’s No 254 Squadron Hawker Typhoon had suffered engine failure over the sea.

Flying Officer Bill Land in the cockpit of a 278 Squadron Walrus in June 1943, with his gunner, Pilot Officer P.J. Roy (smoking) plus two mechanics, after returning from a rescue sortie on the 22nd of that month. Exactly why he has two raised fingers is unclear – he and Paul Roy rescued four!

Flying Officer Bill Land of 278 Squadron (furthest left) with four members of the crew of a 35 Squadron Halifax rescued on 22 June 1943. The rest of the crew were picked up by another Walrus. These four, along with the rest of the crew, failed to return from a raid on Cologne on the night of 3/4 July.

Warrant Officer G.B. Reeder of 278 Squadron, who, along with Flying Officer Bill Land flying another Walrus, rescued the crew of a B-17 on 26 July 1943, later transferring them to an HSL. George Reeder was awarded the DFC in September that year.

Pilot Officer C.G. Scott DFM RCAF of 278 Squadron was Bill Land’s gunner during the 26 July rescue. He had received the DFM in 1942, for his service during the Dieppe Raid that August. The Douglas Boston in which he was a gunner was shot down by a Fw 190, and he saved the lives of both the pilot and observer by getting them into a dinghy. A short time later they were spotted by a Walrus. This resulted in the arrival of an HSL that collected all three men and brought them back to England.

The USAAF Boeing B-17 crew rescued by Reeder and Land on 26 July 1943. Kneeling, from left to right: Carl N. Smith (co-pilot); Jack Hargis (pilot); Capon R. Simons (bomb aimer); William Turcott (navigator). Standing, from left to right: Rudy Thigpen (ball-turret gunner); Victor Ciganek (wireless operator); Gerold Tucker (waist gunner); Robert H. Bowcock (rear gunner); Jarvis Allen (flight engineer) and Albert Deminino (waist gunner).

The 50-franc banknote signed by all ten survivors from the B-17 of the 322nd Bomb Squadron, 91st Bomb Group, US Eighth Air Force, and presented to Bill Land.

Squadron Leader I.C. Ormston DFC RCAF, OC 411 Squadron, rescued by 277 Squadron’s Pete Standen with Pilot Officer J. B. Snell and Warrant Officer Jackie Rose. They could not take off again and had to be towed home by an HSL.

Flying Officer Len J. Brown of 277 Squadron served in the ASR role from its early days. He was awarded the DFC and commanded the unit from July 1943 until early 1945.

Chapter Five

The Mediterranean During the early years of the war, Walruses were very few and far between in the Middle East. Those that were in theatre were mainly on strength with the Fleet Air Arm (FAA), which used the type in its traditional role aboard Royal Navy ships. Obviously the vast expanses of the Mediterranean Sea could cause problems for airmen, but in those early days the rescue of pilots downed as a result of the fighting around Malta could be covered by boats and launches from the island. Similarly, as most of the battles in North Africa were fought over the desert, few aircraft were likely to come down in the sea. For those that did, help was provided by a variety of aircraft such as Short Sunderland flying-boats or the sole Fairchild 91 amphibian operated by the RAF. Sea-searches for missing aircraft were normally undertaken by Vickers Wellington bombers or Bristol Blenheim IVs. The odd Walrus turned up and helped with a few rescues, but it was not until 1943 that anything resembling a dedicated ASR organization for the region came into being. By this time the war had progressed out over the Mediterranean, extended considerably with the fall of Tunisia, assaults on the islands of Pantelleria and Sicily, and finally, the Italian mainland campaign. The Middle East ASR Flight operated for most of 1942, manned by RAF and FAA crews that made several rescues in either a Walrus or the Fairchild, the most prolific being Sergeant H.G.C. King, who made three rescues in April. He is recorded as having made at least one more in 1944. In February 1943 the RAF’s No 283 Squadron was formed at Hussein Bay at Algiers, Algeria, commanded by Squadron Leader W. Sterne, a South African, the unit moving to Maison Blanche and Tingley in May, with various detachments dotted around. Oddly enough its first rescues were of German personnel; the body of a pilot on the 5th, three German soldiers on the 9th, a live airman on the 19th and a Junkers Ju 88 crew on the 24th. The crew of Flight Sergeant C. Horne and Sergeant S. Prouse became prominent at this time, as well as that of Flying Officer K.H. Mears. One of the latter’s crewmembers was Warrant Officer N.W. Peat, previously mentioned flying with 277 Squadron at Shoreham. At the end of May 1943 No 283 Squadron was regularly picking up downed American airmen, something that continued into June. The battle for Tunisia was entering its final stages by this point and the island of Pantelleria in the Strait of Sicily was about to be taken by the Allies, resulting in a good deal of aerial

activity over this part of the Mediterranean. On 27 May 1943 Norm Peat and Frank Bettridge were sent out to pick up an American Lockheed P-38 Lightning pilot who had baled out fifty-three miles (85km) east of Bone in Algeria (now Annaba). After locating him, Peat and Bettridge alighted nearby but the Walrus was damaged. They radioed to report that the aircraft was sinking and that their dinghy was faulty. A search was made for them but nothing was found. All three airmen were presumed to have drowned. Following this tragedy all Walruses carried two dinghies. It is possible that they slashed the American’s dinghy before realizing how serious their own predicament was. On 11 June 1943 an American fighter pilot, Lieutenant Gordon H. Rich of the 309th Fighter Squadron (FS), 31st FG, was shot down by a Me 109 off the coast of Pantelleria. His buddies had noted where he had gone down and not only escorted the Walrus to the spot, but also requested that one of the unit’s own pilots, Lieutenant Matt Moray, be sent out in the Walrus to make sure. Colin Horne and Corporal Jaggers crewed the Walrus and successfully picked up Rich, who had only his Mae West for flotation. Rich was somewhat surprised to see his squadron-mate Matt Moray ready to pull him aboard the rescue aircraft. The adventure was still not over, however, as the sea became too rough to get airborne. Horne taxied into Pantelleria harbour where calmer water allowed a take-off. Fortunately the island had been taken by friendly forces only an hour or so previously! During the operation around Pantelleria, No 283 Squadron rescued a total of eighteen aircrew during 1–12 June; the unit had collected some thirty-seven downed airmen in six weeks while under Tunis Fighter Sector’s control. By the time 283 Squadron moved to Palermo, Sicily, in August 1943, this total had risen to sixty-seven. Meanwhile, another Walrus unit had been created. Formed at Gravesend, Kent, on 7 May 1943 for overseas duty with the upcoming invasion of Sicily in mind, No 284 Squadron – motto ‘From the deep’ – left England by sea in June, arriving at Malta in July, with a detachment based at Algiers. It came together at Cassibile, Sicily, later in July. The unit’s first rescue came on 27 July when Sergeant D.J. Lunn, with Sergeant G.F. Brown and Warrant Officer N. Pickles, rescued an American fighter pilot. Norman Pickles, it may be remembered, had served with 277 Squadron in England. On 31 July Flight Lieutenant R.F. Hayes and Sergeant C.S. Taylor rescued another American pilot off the coast of Sicily. This was another occasion during which the Walrus crew had the benefit of an American pilot on board, who knew exactly where Lieutenant J.C. Kelly had alighted the previous evening. They flew to the spot in the Strait of Messina but could find nothing, so they searched further north, locating Kelly in his dinghy ten miles

(16km) in that direction. The man had been paddling madly all night once he discovered he was drifting towards a hostile shore. At first light he had already seen his pals searching for him where he had splashed down. Kelly threw out an orange-dye marker, which was spotted by his CO, who called up the Walrus. Reg Hayes got to Kelly after the latter had been in his dinghy for thirteen hours. The crew of Flight Sergeant E.J. Holmes and Sergeants R. Brown and C.S. Taylor rescued another American on 1 August, and an Australian pilot (John Howell-Price) on the 3rd, while on the 4th Denny Lunn picked up a Canadian pilot and an Australian and a British pilot during a second sortie. The Canadian pilot had smashed a leg badly as he had baled out and died in hospital later the same evening. The Australian was a Curtiss P-40 pilot who was picked up off Catania on the east coast of Sicily; having completed the rescue Lunn flew towards a British P-40 pilot and rescued him as well. With the weight of two customers and three crewmembers, Lunn could not take off, so had to taxy. However, the port float had been damaged and was full of water, forcing him to send his customers out to the end of the lower starboard wing. With the Walrus taking a pounding from big waves, Lunn eventually had to beach the aircraft just south of Catania. His charges were then taken into port by an HSL. Lunn received the Distinguished Flying Medal (DFM) for this and his aforementioned rescue of 27 July, the citation reading: ‘Sergeant Lunn, on 27 July 1943, was ordered off from Catania within thirty minutes of arrival from Malta and without refuelling, to rescue a pilot five miles [8km] south-west of the toe of Italy, which he did successfully while the enemy was still south of Catania. On 4 August 1943 Sergeant Lunn rescued three pilots on the same day, all within very close proximity of Catania and enemy guns and aircraft, one pilot being but 300 yards [274m] from the shore. Sergeant Lunn has always shown a great keenness and tenacity of purpose under the most difficult conditions and has proved himself as possessing courage and devotion to duty in the very highest traditions of the Service.’ By the end of August No 284 Squadron had rescued five downed airmen; two American fighter pilots, two RAF fighter pilots and one German crewmember from a Dornier Do 217. The latter had been the aircraft’s navigator, his rescuer being Reg Hayes. However, the Walrus had experienced heavy anti-aircraft (AA) fire off the coast of Milazzo, and whether this caused a problem is not known, but the engine failed on the return journey and Hayes had to make a forced landing in a vineyard north of home base. Thankfully nobody was hurt.

Meanwhile No 283 Squadron was having a busy July and August too. Walter Sterne, flying with Flying Officer R.G. Eccles (who had been with 277 Squadron in England) and Sergeant K.R. Pugh, rescued the crew of a 47 Squadron Bristol Beaufighter on 2 July. They found the downed aircrew but could not take off and had to taxy back through the night. Having taken a rest, the crew found that when they tried to restart the engine it refused; they had to bob about for twenty-six hours before an MTB spotted them while on convoy escort duty and took them aboard, taking the Walrus in tow. Although the Walrus carried a radio, it was next-to-useless most of the time and an unnecessary weight. The Walrus on this occasion did not survive and sank off Bizerte in Tunisia on 3 July. Dick Eccles had been on his way to join 284 Squadron, but had been sent off with Sterne. He flew to Malta the next day to join 284. On 3 July another 47 Squadron Beaufighter ditched after a shipping strike. The downed aircrew was some way out to sea and the Walrus sent to get it, crewed by Sergeants W.S. Lambert, A. Divers RNZAF and Cromie, had first to fly from Maison Blanche to Bone in order to refuel, and did not take off until 1735hr. The Walrus crew eventually located the two men in the late evening, south of Sardinia, and picked them up, but were unable to get off again, so began a seven-hour taxy until the aircraft ran out of petrol. The next afternoon two HSLs arrived and took off the two survivors and Cromie, who had become unwell. One launch began to tow the Walrus, which eventually arrived at Bone. Bill Lambert recalled: ‘Two attempts at take-off. No bloody good – wire broke off starboard float and the IFF [identification friend or foe equipment] blew up. Taxied approximately 160° and engine gave out at 0210hr. Saw a [Lockheed] Hudson aircraft at 0800hr – two cartridges fired – and aircraft seen again at 1000hr and again at 1155hr. HSL176 arrived at 1220hr and we were taken aboard and given a meal. HSL182 came up and took “Wally” [Walrus] in tow, Divers staying on board. Arrived at Bone 1700hr and Wally came in at 1900hr.’ Flight Sergeant L.H. Newman and Sergeant Jock Graham were out on a rescue on 4 July, searching for an American pilot twenty-five miles (40km) north-east of Cap Bon in northeastern Tunisia. The sea was extremely rough and Lyall Newman attempted to drop a smoke bomb to find the wind direction, but it failed to release. With only the waves to give direction, he alighted. Once the crew had picked up the downed airman, however, the Walrus was unable to get off. Overwhelmed and losing the port float, the Walrus took on water and sank, the three men getting into dinghies. They were eventually rescued by an HSL from Pantelleria.

The next day Colin Horne and Jock Graham picked up another American, fighting a heavy sea until they finally taxied into Pantelleria harbour. On 13 July Lambert and Pugh rescued a German Me 109 pilot shot down north of the Tunisian coast, while on the 18th, Arnold Divers retrieved an American bomber crewman who had been drifting in his dinghy for twenty hours forty-three miles (69km) south-east of Pantelleria. Divers’s crewman was Flight Sergeant A.B. Morabito RCAF, these two men completing a number of successful rescues during August. Tony Morabito was later commissioned and received the DFC. Within days of the successful invasion of Sicily during July–August 1943, both Walrus squadrons based in the Mediterranean flew their amphibians across to the island and were soon picking up downed American pilots. Also operating aircraft from Malta, No 283 Squadron was now commanded by Squadron Leader J.H. Ashton DFC, a distinguished former fighter pilot. During August 1943 Divers, Horne, Pilot Officer A. Hopkinson and Bill Lambert were all prominent in rescues, whether their customers be RAF, USAAF or Luftwaffe. However, operations slackened during September. The last rescue by Divers, on 3 November 1943, saved five American crewmen from a downed B-25 bomber, but the Walrus foundered in bad weather, all being rescued by a hospital ship. With Divers had been Sergeant E.F. Keeble. Divers should not have been flying as he was recovering from a bout of malaria, but as there were no other pilots available when the call came in, there was little choice but to send him. During the evening, having been unable to get off, the aircraft and port wing began filling with water, with the bilge pump being used every hour. Keeble went out on to the starboard wing to try and keep the port wing above water. Soon after midnight Divers relieved Keeble out on the wing, the pair thereafter taking turns out on the wing. At around 0230hr a light was seen on the horizon despite huge waves breaking over the Walrus. A two-star Very light was fired, followed by signals from an Aldis Lamp. A ship shone a light on the aircraft and soon afterwards a motor launch came alongside and took off the Americans. Divers and Keeble wished to remain aboard the Walrus until morning in the hope that conditions may improve, but by 0345hr the amphibian was almost heeling over so the chief mate on the launch ordered them off. They had been rescued by hospital ship Seminole, which subsequently took them to Naples. Both Divers and Keeble received the DFM. Shortly afterwards 284 Squadron was involved in another dramatic rescue. On 12 November 1943 a USAAF B-25 was hit by flak on its return flight from a mission to Kucove in Albania, the seven men aboard baling out off the Albanian coast. Two men came down on land, one had his parachute fail and one, Sgt Daniel H. Hilton, alighted close to the shoreline, where he hid. The other three survivors were rescued by the crew of an Italian Cant Z.506B three-engined

floatplane, the Italians working with the Allies in the wake of the September 1943 Armistice. Four days later a British Spitfire pilot baled out of his aircraft in the same area, although his parachute failed to deploy. The following morning a Walrus of 284 Squadron, escorted by a cadre of Spitfires, flew out in an attempt to recover the body, although the crew had been notified of a possible sighting of someone on the nearby beach. Flight Lieutenant Reg Hayes and ‘Sticky’ Glew spotted the latter and so decided to alight and taxy towards the beach. A very relieved Hilton was quickly on board, but his five-day ordeal was not yet over; the Walrus had become stuck on a sandbank. As the covering Spitfires circled, several Me 109s arrived on the scene to attack the fighters and strafe the Walrus. The occupants of the Walrus rushed ashore and took cover as the dogfight above developed, during which one Spitfire was shot down and one Me 109 was seen limping away trailing smoke. Other Me 109s arrived, and during a lull, Hayes and Glew ran back to the Walrus to try and free it from the sandbank. Hilton was wounded in the leg and hand and Glew suffered a slight wound too. As the fight developed another Me 109 was shot down. Receiving a message that Hayes was in trouble, Denny Lunn and Sergeant A.J. Heseltine flew out to the spot and, so as to avoid the shallow beach area, alighted on a small inland lake. The three men on the ground quickly climbed aboard, before Lunn gunned the throttle, took off and brought everyone home. Dick Eccles, who hailed from Johannesburg, South Africa, had also been busy during September and October 1943. On 2 September he was again flying with Sergeant Gordon Brown RCAF, as well as Flight Sergeant J.R. Berry RNZAF. Wing Commander W.G.G. Duncan Smith DSO DFC, OC No 244 Wing of the Desert Air Force, had made a last-minute decision to fly a sortie in his Spitfire VIII during the late morning. As his droptank emptied, he switched to the main tank, but the cable to the fuel cock snapped and seconds later the Rolls-Royce Merlin engine stopped. As he glided out to sea away from the Italian coast, his Mayday call was picked up by another Spitfire pilot, who alerted the Walrus boys. At 2,000ft (610m) Duncan Smith baled out. Called on to perform the rescue, Brown, Eccles and Berry took off. In the water, Duncan Smith discovered the line to his dinghy had snapped so had only his Mae West to keep him afloat. He was also only wearing his desert shorts and had lost his boots. He realized he was only about two miles (3 ·2km) off the coast of Cape Vaticano. He was trying to swim to the shore, but as he had no dinghy, the tide was taking him further out to sea. Then he spotted some Spitfires and one of the pilots spotted him. He had now been in the water for some five hours and was tiring. Brown and Eccles arrived and alighted, but arriving at the same time was a gaggle of Me 109s. The Walrus had six Spitfires for an escort but this did not stop the German pilots having a go. To

make matters worse, a couple of Fw 190s also turned up to engage the Spitfires, one of which burst into flames and dived into the sea. On the water, the wing commander was unceremoniously hauled into the Walrus as bullets began raking the amphibian. Duncan Smith felt a stinging blow across his back of his neck. Brown opened up and managed to get the Walrus off the water, despite being under fire. Berry had been covering two holes in the bottom of the fuselage with his hands to prevent water coming in as they took off. They were soon back at Milazzo airfield. John Berry RNZAF received the DFM for his actions in earlier rescues and this operation. Gordon Brown later flew with 293 Squadron and became a Warrant Officer. He was awarded the DFC in 1944. He had with him at that time Flight Sergeant C.S. Taylor, who also received the DFM. Cyril Taylor had served with a night intruder squadron operating over France before switching to ASR operations. On 21 September 1943, No 284 Squadron’s Warrant Officer K.G. Hall, with Sergeant Heseltine, rescued another ranking pilot, this time an American, Colonel J.R. Hawkins of the USAAF’s 31st FG. The same day Flight Sergeant J.A. Reid and Sticky Glew rescued one of Hawkins’s men, USAAF Flight Officer C.W. Nelson. James ‘Hamish’ Reid had been with 277 Squadron in the UK. After a few trips in a Lysander, a Walrus and a Spitfire, he returned from leave one day to find the squadron preparing for overseas service. Norman Pickles was wounded during a rescue operation on 16 December. He was with Denny Lunn and Flight Sergeant G.W. Paxton, sent out from Brindisi on the ‘heel’ of Italy, escorted by two Spitfires. They found their man, a fighter pilot from 249 Squadron, who was only about 100 yards (91m) off the southern tip of the Gulf of Drin in northern Albania. As they alighted, machinegun fire opened up from the shore and Pickles was hit in the arm that was holding on to the downed pilot, but he did not let go. This resulted in the award of a DFC for Pickles, the citation stating the following: ‘Warrant Officer Pickles has taken part in a large number of air-sea rescue operations, during which he has assisted in rescuing ten members of aircraft crew. On one occasion while assisting a comrade from the sea, Warrant Officer Pickles was hit by machine-gun fire. Although in great pain and suffering from shock, he persisted in his efforts until the rescue was successfully effected. This warrant officer has invariably displayed praiseworthy courage, determination and devotion to duty.’ Ken Hall was awarded the DFM. Other ASR men decorated around this time included Reg Hayes (DFC), Anthony Morabito RCAF (DFC) and Acting Flight

Lieutenant Douglas Harcourt of 294 Sqn (DFC). Bill Lambert, Dennis Lunn and Ken Pugh received the DFM. Squadron Leader W. Sterne received the Distinguished Service Order, gazetted in September 1943. He was the only ASR Walrus aircrew member to receive this high decoration during World War Two. Hamish Reid later recalled his move to the Middle East: ‘I joined 277 Squadron at quite an interesting period of its development. It was at the time they were bringing in the new Spitfire IIs equipped with a small Lindholme dinghy, which could be dropped from the flare chute. So the Spitfire pilots were assuming the dual role of search and escort for the Walrus aircraft on pick-ups. Returning from a spot of leave I found myself on a Middle East posting. This was May 1943 and was the formation of 284 Squadron. Reg Hayes was the Commanding Officer, Dick Eccles the adjutant and Warrant Officer Ken Hall the senior NCO pilot, and the most experienced Walrus pilot in the whole squadron. We weren’t a tremendously experienced squadron. “Sticky” Glew was the most experienced air gunner and we also had another experienced man, Norman Pickles. We were a pretty mixed bunch.’

A pilot makes his fìnal inspection check of his Walrus in North Africa. Note the smoke bombs under the port wing.

Supermarine Walrus “F” being refuelled at Taher airfield, Djedjelli, Algeria, in 1943. Note the smoke bombs under the wings and the tubular canister containing a dinghy. It is probably a machine used by the French Armée de l’Air for ASR work along the North African coast.

Sergeants Colin Horne, Frank Bettridge and Arnold Divers of 283 Squadron. Horne and Divers were both decorated for their many rescues. Frank Bettridge was lost during a rescue, along with Norman Peat, on 27 May 1943 off the coast of Bone.

Lieutenant Paul G. McArthur of the 31st Fighter Squadron (FS), 79th Fighter Group (FG), rescued by Ken Mears and J.V. Botting of 283 Squadron on 10 June 1943. He had been shot down during an attack on Pantelleria and spent a night in his dinghy before rescue. A rough sea prevented the Walrus from taking off so it had to be towed into Kelibia by corvette, McArthur having to take his turn on the bilge pump.

During operations against the island of Pantelleria in June 1943, Lieutenant Gordon Rich of the 309th FS, 31st FG, was shot down. Colin Horne undertook the rescue flight, taking along one of Rich’s squadron pals, Lieutenant Matt Moray. This picture shows Horne on the right, with Moray giving the victory sign on their successful return from this rescue on 11 June 1943.

Gordon Rich, in thick blanket, also gives the ‘V’ sign, standing in the rear hatch of the Walrus that brought him back. American and British onlookers welcome him home. Knowing men would risk their lives to rescue a downed airman boosted the morale of operational airmen.

Sergeant Dennis Lunn of 284 Squadron. Lunn had served with 277 Squadron in England before being posted to North Africa. He received the Distinguished Flying Medal (DFM) for his rescue of Lieutenant D.E. Harwood of the 65th FS, 57th FG, on 27 July 1943, and for another dangerous rescue off Catania on 4 August.

One of the three pilots Lunn rescued on 4 August was Pilot Officer H.J.M. Barnes of the RAF’s No 112 Squadron, although the Walrus had to be beached south of Catania, thankfully shortly after the town’s Allied capture.

American fighter pilot Jack Kelly proudly holds up a section of his parachute, used when baling out of his Curtiss P-40 on 31 July 1943.

Lieutenant J. C. Kelly of the 86th FS, 79th FG, rescued by Flight Lieutenant R.F. Hayes and Sgt C.S. Taylor of 284 Squadron on 31 July 1943. This was another case of an American pilot flying in the Walrus in order to direct them to where his downed countryman was. In the event, Jack Kelly had drifted ten miles (16km) to the north, but he was found and retrieved.

Dick Eccles of 284 Squadron marks up another successful rescue. The symbols are tiny ‘saint’ figures from the detective novels by Leslie Charteris. Dick, originally from Johannesburg in South Africa, had served briefly with 277 Squadron in England and was commandeered by the Commanding Officer of 283 Squadron to help with a rescue before ultimately arriving at his new unit.

Sergeant John Howell-Price of the Royal Australian Air Force’s No 3 Squadron (left) thanking his Commanding Officer, Squadron Leader R.N.B. Stevens DFC RAAF, who helped in his rescue on 3 August 1943. Realising one of his pilots had failed to get home, Reg Stevens took off and managed to locate Howell-Price, then radioed for a Walrus to pick him up. Enemy gunfire was directed at the downed pilot and Stevens began to strafe the offenders. However, his P-40 was hit and he made a forced landing,

fortunately unhurt and inside Allied lines.

Walrus W2757 ZE-O of 293 Squadron. In 1943 it had been used by 284 Squadron and made at least half a dozen rescues during September and October of that year, including the rescue of the CO of the USAAF’s 31st FG, Colonel J.R. Hawkins, on 21 September.

Dick Eccles landing a Walrus at Triolo, Foggia, in southern Italy, on 20 October 1943, having just picked up Sergeant H. Ritchie, survivor of a downed 14 Squadron aircraft. Note the resident Spitfires in the background.

Sergeant H. Ritchie of 14 Squadron is helped out of Eccles’s Walrus on 20 October 1943. The man on the left is fellow Walrus pilot Flight Sergeant E.J. ‘Ted’ Holmes. Ritchie was the only survivor of his Martin B-26 Marauder crew. He was the co-pilot and was thrown clear when the bomber hit the sea.

William S. Lambert of 283 Squadron during his training days. He achieved many successful rescues with the unit and was awarded the DFM.

Arnold Divers RNZAF at the end of the war, as a flight lieutenant. He received the DFM for his many successful rescues with 283 Squadron.

Members of 284 Squadron on Sicily, with some of its groundcrew at the back. Standing, from left to right: Denny Lunn; Cyril Taylor; Norm Pickles; Dick Eccles; J.W. Bradley and Ted Holmes.

This picture of Lyall Newman of 283 Squadron was taken just before he was posted to ASR work, when he was flying trainee air gunners around in Percival Proctors from RAF Madley and Yatesbury, while they practised their Morse code. Lyall Newman was yet another successful rescue pilot.

Taken aboard hospital ship Seminole on 4 November 1943, Arnold Divers and Eric Keeble of 283 Squadron had set off to rescue a North American B-25 crew the previous day, but their Walrus was damaged so they and the Americans had to be rescued by the ship. Standing, from left: Divers; Keeble; Lieutenant J.L. Steinberg (bomb aimer);

Sergeant L.A. Stevens (tail gunner); Lieutenant Paul Devlin (pilot). Kneeling, from left: Sergeant J.W. Keyes (wireless operator) and (just visible) Lieutenant Bill McGonigle (co-pilot).

Arnold Divers (left) and Eric Keeble safely back on land after their rescue by the hospital ship on 4 November 1943. They have been given army trousers, and the Americans gave them cigars.

Wing Commander W.G.G. Duncan Smith DSO DFC was rescued by a Walrus crew of 284 Squadron off the Italian coast on 2 September 1943, despite the best efforts of a swarm of Messerschmitt Me 109 fighters.

Sergeant J.A. ‘Hamish’ Reid of 284 Squadron, who, with ‘Sticky’ Glew, made his first rescue, on 21 September 1943, when he picked up USAAF Flight Officer C.W. Nelson.

Flight Officer Clifford W. Nelson of the 309th FS, 31st FG, rescued by Reid and Glew on 21 September 1943.

Walrus II Z1777, coded ‘S’, of 283 Squadron, was photographed at the Salerno beachhead. This aircraft was used in the rescue of Colonel Hawkins and Flying Officer Nelson of the 31st FG on 21 September 1943. Note the fuel drums – there were no petrol bowsers on the beachhead. Large drums secure the Walrus from overturning in the wind.

Walrus FD-W of 283 Squadron at Palermo airfield on Sicily. In the background are fuel drums and a number of wrecked Italian aircraft. Note how the Walrus is secured here by more conventional screw-spikes.

Flying Officer Anthony B. Morabito DFC RCAF of 283 Squadron (and later 293 Squadron). Morabito crewed a number of sorties with Arnold Divers during several rescue missions.

Squadron Leader Walter Sterne DSO (right) was Commanding Officer of 283 Squadron from February 1943 to April 1944.

Warrant Officer Arnold Divers at Palermo with Walrus ‘L’ of 283 Squadron.

Lyall Newman, by this time with 284 Squadron, flying Walrus ‘S’ between Salerno and Naples on 14 October 1943.

This line-up of Walruses, photographed by the USAAF’s 350th FG in Algeria in late 1943, may be the newly-arrived 293 Squadron.

Chapter Six

Around Italy Following the invasion of the Italian mainland in September 1943, the RAF’s Air/Sea Rescue Walrus squadrons were faced with covering the two seas either side of it. To the west was the Tyrrhenian Sea in which lay the islands of Sardinia and Corsica, while on the east side was the Adriatic, with Italy on one side and Yugoslavia on the other. Accordingly, No 283 Squadron operated mainly over the west while 284 operated on the east. By this time there were two more ASR squadrons in the Mediterranean Theatre. Formed officially at Blida in Algeria in October 1943, No 293 Squadron – motto: ‘Safety from the air’ – was established with Vickers Warwicks, later absorbing Walrus detachments from 283 Squadron. It would be 293 Squadron that would see action alongside 283 Squadron to the west of Italy. In the summer of 1941 the Middle East ASR Flight was established with Vickers Wellingtons at Kabrit in Egypt. The following year a Walrus ASR Flight was established with Fleet Air Arm personnel, which operated from Berka, near Benghazi in Libya. This unit became No 294 Squadron – motto “Life snatched from the waves’ – in late September 1943, operating mainly over the eastern end of the Med. During March 1944 No 283 Squadron was fairly active, with Arnold Divers, Lyall Newman, Hamish Reid and Ken Mears performing successful rescues. The unit’s first success came on 3 March when Warrant Officers V.L. Prosser RAAF and J.V. Botting rescued Lieutenant J.A. Adams of the USAAF’s 2nd FS, 52nd FG, at that time flying Spitfires from Corsica. James Junior’ Adams, having already seen considerable combat action, was part of an escort for a group of B-26 Marauders, but before the group reached the Italian mainland, his engine began to run rough before packing up completely. It was time to step out. Adams splashed down some twenty-five miles (40km) off Civitavecchia, north-west of Rome, and, after a brief struggle with his dinghy, finally operated the CO2 bottle, which then ripped a 2ft tear in the dinghy. He was now solely reliant on his air vest. His wingman, circling above while issuing a Mayday call, dropped his own dinghy, but Adams failed to reach it in the rough sea. It was not long before the Walrus came into view and alighted, causing shore-based gun batteries to start firing. With Adams safely aboard, the ensuing attempt to take off smashed the starboard wing-float, but Prosser continued and finally got

off. On 7 March Hamish Reid and Warrant Officer J.W. Bradley rescued Ray Harmeyer, a fighter pilot who had been flying Spitfires with the 31st FG since October 1943. During this mission the engine of Harmeyer’s Spitfire IX had failed over the Gulf of Gaeta, between Anzio and Naples, and he baled out. Dragged by his parachute across the water on alighting, he was nearfrozen by the time the Walrus arrived. As it taxied up to him he wrapped his arms around the port wing strut, still tangled up in his parachute, and refused to let go. Bradley jumped into the sea and cut the parachute. Reid pulled Bradley into the rear hatch and then both men succeeded in lifting a very waterlogged Harmeyer into the Walrus. After a successful take-off they delivered a semi-conscious American to Capodichino airfield in Naples. Ray Harmeyer went on to become an ace with the 31st FG and later saw service in the Korean conflict. Harmeyer recalled the rescue later: ‘The water was freezing cold, and my hat is off to the RAF observer who didn’t hesitate about jumping in to help me aboard. Those boys were wonderful. At the hospital I shook for about forty-five minutes, had a splitting headache and suffered awful cramps in my stomach and legs, but within an hour I was feeling pretty fit, except for the headache.’ The 7th proved to be a busy day for 283 Squadron, with Prosser and Botting rescuing another 52nd FG pilot, Lieutenant H.S. Montgomery. Walter Sterne and Sergeant Pugh had rescued Montgomery back in August, thirty-five miles (56km) north-east of Palermo. On that occasion he had been in his dinghy since the previous day. It was hoped he was not going to make a habit of this. The third 52nd FG pilot to be rescued in March was Lieutenant R.C. Curtis, on the afternoon of the 18th. Bob Curtis had been on a Spitfire dive-bombing sortie with the 2nd FS against Marina di Pisa, then flew south to strafe some buildings north-east of Cecina in Tuscany. However, one of the buildings exploded as he began to turn his Spitfire and the engine stopped. Curtis headed out to sea at 2,000ft (610m) but knew he was going nowhere and soon took to his parachute. With other Spitfires circling he splashed down into the sea and it was not long before he was in his dinghy, some five miles (8km) out. Curtis later told the author: ‘I took out the paddles and did a little paddling, trying to get further away from the shore, but with such little success that I threw out the sea anchor instead. As there was no fluorescein pack in the dinghy I took out one from the Mae West and dipped it in the water for a few minutes. I guess I had been in the water for about an hour when the Walrus

appeared on the horizon; a beautiful sight, notwithstanding its rather ugly lines. It flew by and dropped a smoke bomb, did a 360° circle and ended up slightly downwind of me. I pulled in the sea anchor and paddled to the “duck”. With the assistance of the pilot I had no trouble getting into the front hatch. I sat down in the radio compartment, had several blankets put around me and lit a cigarette. The sea was too rough for the ’plane to take off so we taxied about ten miles [16km] towards Capriana until we hit smoother water and were able to get airborne.’ His rescuers were Arnold Divers and Ernie Smith. It was Divers’s last successful rescue with 283 Squadron and within a few days he was on his way back to England. He had been twelve months with the Squadron and finally received a commission. On 6 April 1944 No 293 Squadron’s Warrant Officer G.F. Brown and Flight Sergeant C.S. Taylor successfully rescued the crew of a USAAF B-24 Liberator of the 460th Bomb Group, Fifteenth Air Force. Returning from a raid on Zagreb, Yugoslavia (now the capital of Croatia), the bomber, flown by First Lieutenant Fred Smith, developed engine problems and was soon down to just one engine. The pilot ditched the Liberator, nine of the ten-man crew managing to exit into the sea, although the ball-turret gunner was lost, and the dinghies failed to release. The crew was in a perilous condition, as not all the Mae Wests inflated either, and at least one man had serious head injuries. When the Walrus arrived its crew was only able to pick up the injured man. Another B-24 crewmember had already drowned and another had attempted to swim to the distant shore. An MTB arrived and picked up the rest, but three died aboard the boat. Meanwhile 284 Squadron had not been idle, and on 11 April Lyall Newman and Ernie Smith (this crew having been attached to 284 from 283 Squadron) rescued the CO of the 2nd FS (known as ‘The American Beagle Squadron’), 52nd FG. In his personal Spitfire XII – the only one on the squadron – Major B.S. Sanborn was leading a dive-bombing mission on a railyard outside Livorno (known as Leghorn) when his engine was hit by 20mm cannon fire. After heading out to sea and struggling with his canopy Bert Sanborn finally baled out. He alighted on the sea and was soon in his dinghy, but as he later recorded, was in immediate danger from an unexpected source: ‘I sat in my dinghy dodging bottles, cigarette cases and other high-speed missiles my friends tried to drop to me. I was rather close to the coast, but as the other side had shelled a Walrus a short time before, they must have decided taking a few shots at me was not in their best interests. [Circling Spitfires had taken offence to the coastal gunners firing at the alighting

Walrus and strafed the gun-posts.] A patrol torpedo boat was sent after me, I understand, but the Walrus arrived first. I had met the pilot before this and his first remark as he pulled alongside, was “What are you doing here?” I believe I replied “Fishing”, and asked if he’d brought any bait.’ Several more Americans were rescued during April, and on 1 May No 284 Squadron’s Trevor Humphrey got more than he bargained for. He and his gunner, Sergeant S.J. Heseltine, were despatched to locate and rescue the crew of a USAAF B-17. Five survivors, lost on 30 April, had not been found owing to bad weather. A Spitfire pilot had spotted them, however, and Humphrey and Heseltine got to them the next day, escorted by Spitfires. The Walrus rescue lasted five hours and ten minutes, most of it on the water. As Humphrey alighted, a huge wave smashed the side cockpit window and bent the Walrus’s nose. After a struggle Humphrey and Heseltine got the five men aboard. As the last was heaved in Heseltine reported that there was a parachute floating down. One of the Spitfire escort aircraft had suffered engine trouble and its pilot, Lieutenant J.O. Newton-Thompson SAAF, had baled out. Once they had him aboard, and with the damage to the Walrus, there was no way they were going to get airborne, so began to taxy to Ortona, from which a boat came out at about the same time that gunfire began to splash about them from the enemyheld shore. Humphrey headed south, the Walrus taking more punishment, forcing him to beach the stricken amphibian. Everybody scrambled ashore, but the poor old Walrus had had it. After the war Trevor Humphrey read about a certain Newton-Thompson making 77 not out against the Marylebone Cricket Club during a match in South Africa and wondered if this was the chap he had rescued. He wrote and Newton-Thompson replied that he was, thanking him again for saving him and having no qualms about scoring heavily against the MCC! During a practise mission on 3 May 1944 two B-24 Liberators of the 484th Bomb Group (BG) collided in mid-air, one losing some 12ft (3 ·7m) of its starboard wing. Three crewmen quickly baled out as the Liberator began a deadly spin towards the sea, taking the rest of the crew with it. The other bomber managed to stay in the air and get its crew home. Warrant Officer G.F.Brown and Flight Sergeant C.S. Taylor of 293 Squadron were despatched in a Walrus, escorted by American fighters. Finding a B-24 circling the scene of the incident, Brown alighted and began taxying around to pick up the scattered survivors, helped by the B-24, whose swoops helped the Walrus crew locate their targets. The sea was rough and Brown could not get off, so he taxied until he found calmer water, took off and brought them home. Gordon Brown and

Cyril Taylor were awarded the DFC and DFM respectively. Taylor had quite a detailed citation, but only the following wording was shown in a joint citation with Brown: ‘As pilot and wireless operator respectively, Warrant Officer Brown and Flight Sergeant Taylor have completed many air-sea rescue sorties. Their steadfastness and courage in the face of numerous difficult and dangerous situations has won the greatest praise.’ South African Spitfire pilot Lieutenant Derek T. Gilson of No 1 Squadron SAAF was rescued on 24 May by 293 Squadron’s Denny Lunn and Warrant Officer M.D. Kelly. Engine trouble had forced Gilson to turn for home while on an escort sortie, and after his engine caught fire he was forced to bale out. Once in the water he could not get his dinghy inflated, but within forty minutes the Walrus had arrived and brought him back. He was bright yellow in colour having had his fluorescein pack open too quickly; he had also managed to swallow several mouthfuls of the stuff. Rescues continued apace into May and June 1944, including four Italian workers on a raft off Pianosa Island attempting to escape a German labour camp. Then there was the rescue of a British soldier who had drifted out to sea in a dinghy, as well as the four American soldiers who had to be rescued by an HSL when they had tried to get to him first. On 7 June Humphrey and Heseltine rescued Flying Officer G.C.W. O’Neil MM of 451 Squadron RAAF. For once it was a straightforward rescue, as Trevor Humphrey explained to the author: ‘O’Neil’s was a fairly simple rescue. A good position was given by Control, telling him when to bale out . . . we only took one hour and twenty-five minutes from take-off to the time I landed back at base, having also landed at his base at Serragia [on Corsica] to drop him off. I dropped smoke-floats and alighted in a moderate to heavy swell; it was a lovely summer’s day I remember.’ Denny Lunn and Norm Pickles of 293 Squadron rescued seven survivors from a B-24 crew of the 451st BG on 10 June. The bomber was hit by flak over the Porto Marghera oil refinery in northern Italy. Both port engines were knocked out and several control and hydraulic lines were cut. The Liberator gradually lost height as its pilots strained to keep a straight course south over the Adriatic, but a ditching became inevitable. With the dinghies released after alighting on the water, the bomber sank within two minutes, taking one crewmember with it, while another had been

killed as the top turret crashed into the rear of the cockpit. Another of the crew suffered a broken leg, and the pilot, Lieutenant Herbert A. Guiness, had facial and hand injuries. Alighting on the sea the Walrus crew had difficulty securing the bomber crew’s dinghy so Pickles jumped in and managed to get a line to it. With the extra seven men in the Walrus it was impossible to get airborne, so Lunn began to taxy back to Ortona Harbour. In June 1944 No 293 Squadron sent a detachment to Sinello, twenty-five miles (40km) south of Pescara, in order to operate over the Adriatic. Trevor Humphrey had further rescues with 284 Squadron before moving to 293, with which he continued his good work. Both squadrons were regularly picking up American fighter pilots at this time. Humphrey also recalls that the Walrus units were assisted by Italian Cant Z.1007 crews, keen to help following Italy’s capitulation and subsequent armistice with the Allies. Two USAAF P-47 pilots were rescued by Lieutenant K.B. Walker SAAF and Warrant Officer D.P. Devery RAAF on 6 July. The same pair rescued another American airman on the 15th and a fourth on the 17th. Walker moved to 293 Squadron and in November 1944 helped to rescue the crew of a USAAF B-17. On 9 December Walker, with Warrant Officer W. Burnett, rescued Lieutenant R.G. Burdick of the 2nd FS, 52nd FG, two of whose pals had called for ASR. Walker’s Walrus blew a cylinder on the way out, and once they had pulled Greg Burdick into it, they then lacked the power to take off again from a very rough sea. Walker tried to water-taxy along but made little headway as more cylinders blew. Walker had little choice but to shut down the engine. They learned later that German E-boats had been sent out searching for them. First light the next morning saw aircraft searches resume and once the Walrus had been spotted, a British destroyer was despatched to retrieve it and its crew. A longboat was launched and took off the three men from the Walrus, which later sank. Rescues continued on both sides of Italy for the rest of the war, one producing quite a story. Flying Officer H.F. Burditt and Flying Officer I. Morgan of 293 Squadron were sent out on 21 October to locate and rescue the sole survivor of a Liberator of the USAAF’s 459th BG. The bomber had been on a raid to Munich the previous day, captained by Lieutenant A. Hartman. Running into difficulties the B-24 ditched some way off Venice and broke up. The five surviving crewmembers clung to the floating nosewheel, but one by one they drowned in a very choppy sea, leaving just Sergeant Paul E. Estep, the wireless operator, to be rescued by Burditt and Morgan on the 21st. No sooner had the Walrus taken off when Burditt and Morgan were advised of another man in the water. Captain W.W. Meikle DFC of No 7 Squadron SAAF had been attacking ground targets north of Lake Comacchio when his Spitfire IX was hit by groundfire. He managed to reach the sea and baled out, as two companions

radioed for the ASR boys. At the same time, Sergeant A.W. Jones of 112 Squadron was also hit during a ground-attack sortie, and he baled out of his North American Mustang over the sea. The Walrus arrived, alighted to pick up Meikle and was then directed to taxy towards Jones by a Warwick, as the Walrus could not now take off. Jones was collected but by this time, artillery fire from the nearby coastal batteries had begun to rain down on the Walrus, accompanied by an overhead dogfight between Spitfires and Me 109s. One of the Spitfire pilots baled out, the Warwick dropping a Lindholme dinghy to him. Some time later an American Consolidated Catalina flying-boat arrived, alighting near the Walrus and taking off the three survivors. The Walrus crew elected to stay with their machine until the next morning. They were captured overnight, however, and ended the war in captivity. Harold Burditt was awarded the DFC. Another rescue of note was that of two USAAF airmen of the 320th BG on 5 November, which appears to be the final rescue undertaken from Corsica, performed by Warrant Officer Mike Gallagher, along with his 293 Squadron colleague Warrant Officer V. Udberg. A group of USAAF B-26 Marauders was on a bomb run over the Rovereto railroad in the Brenner Pass when German fighters attacked. One of the Marauders, flown by Lieutenant C. Kamanski, lost an engine and had its fuel-booster pump in the bomb-bay hit, causing a fuel leak. Heading back towards Corsica, the bomber’s one good engine began to overheat. With the aircraft steadily losing height, the pilot ordered the crew to bale out over the sea. Unsurprisingly, the crew became scattered, and when the Walrus crew arrived they could initially only see wreckage, but a circling Marauder indicated to the rescue amphibian where two men were drifting in a dinghy. Gallagher alighted and took them aboard, before taxying around in search of others. With the arrival of an HSL the two Americans – Kamanski and Leland S. Ford – were taken off the Walrus. Gallagher then took off and managed to spot three other men in the water, directing the HSL towards them. Gallagher was then forced to alight again on the sea, his machine giving trouble, and ended the mission by water-taxying back to Bastia. It is impossible to end this section without mentioning Lieutenant R.H. Veitch SAAF, who in the spring of 1945 was flying Mustang IIIs with the RAF’s No 260 Squadron. During one month – April 1945 – Veitch was rescued no fewer than three times from the sea. On the 2nd his Mustang was hit by groundfire, so Veitch turned for home over the sea, but was forced to bale out over a minefield. The arriving Walrus pilot decided not to alight, so a Warwick dropped a boat and Veitch managed to motor out of the danger area to be picked up by an American Catalina. Three days later Veitch’s Mustang was crippled during

an attack on locomotives and he once again had to step out over the sea. Enemy boats were despatched to pick him up but were kept at bay by Allied fighters. Veitch had once again alighted in a minefield, and again a Warwick dropped a lifeboat, enabling the South African to motor out of danger and be picked up again by Catalina. The third rescue occurred on the 30th, when Veitch was again brought down by groundfire, ending up in his dinghy offshore. A Walrus was sent by 293 Squadron but engine trouble forced it to return home, so Veitch was picked up by yet another Catalina. Ray Veitch later received the DFC.

Lieutenant J.A. ‘Junior’ Adams of the USAAF’s 52nd FG, which operated Spitfire Vs from Corsica, is seen here with his Bugs Bunny cartoon emblem. Suffering engine failure off the Italian coast on 3 March 1944, Adams had his dinghy fail too, but 283 Squadron successfully picked him out of the water and took off despite losing a wing float. Adams, who flew a total of 186 combat missions in Spitfires and Mustangs, was credited with 4½ victories plus two unconfirmed. He retired as a Lieutenant Colonel

from the USAF after 28 years of service.

Junior Adams is helped from the rear hatch of a Walrus of 283 Squadron at Borgo, Corsica, on 3 March 1944.

Lieutenant Robert C. Curtis of the 52nd FG was rescued off the Italian coast on 18 March 1944 by Arnold Divers and Ernie Smith of 283 Squadron. Note his name on the side of his Spitfire; Curtis’s left knee obscures the name of Staff Sergeant Lloyd Gilbert, his crew chief, in hat to the right of the image. New York-born Bob Curtis ended the war with 14 combat victories and numerous medals.

Lieutenant Ray F. Harmeyer of the 309th FS, 31st FG, was rescued by Hamish Reid and J.W. Bradley of 283 Squadron on 7 March 1944. Harmeyer went on to become an ace with six victories and later saw service during the Korean conflict.

Flying with Arnold Divers while rescuing Bob Curtis was Flight Sergeant E.E. Smith of 283 Squadron. Ernie, along with Lyall Newman, was later attached to 284 Squadron, both making several successful rescues.

The return of Flight Sergeant H.E. Eaves of 460 Squadron RAAF, who was rescued on 20 April 1944 by members of 293 Squadron. Having been rescued by the same unit only sixteen days previously, he was doubly grateful to the Walrus boys. Beside him in helmet and goggles is Flight Sergeant C.S. Taylor.

Harry Eaves with the 293 Squadron crew that picked him out of the water on 20 April 1944. He is flanked by his rescuers Warrant Officer G.F. Brown DFM (left) and Flight Sergeant C.S. Taylor DFM. Note the marks beneath the cockpit window, one for each successful rescue. Eaves had been rescued by this same Walrus, Z1813, on 4 April, possibly the first rescue in which it participated. By the 20th there would have been 23 such marks, Eaves being the 24th.

Three of the B-24 crewmembers rescued on 6 April 1944 by 293 Squadron’s Gordon Brown and Cyril Taylor. From left: Flight Officer Harry Mansdorf (co-pilot); First Lieutenant Fred Smith (pilot) and Second Lieutenant John Schwartz (bombardier).

Major Bert Sanborn, CO of the 2nd Squadron, 52nd FG, was brought down by groundfire off Leghorn (Livorno) and rescued by Lyall Newman and Ernie Smith of 284 Squadron eight miles off the Italian coast on 11 April 1944.

This photograph of Lyall Newman was taken just after the return of Bert Sanborn to his airfield at Borgo, Corsica, which was shared with the Walrus aircraft of 284 Squadron.

Flight Sergeant R.C. ‘Sticky’ Glew DFM, tragically killed on 29 April 1944. He had survived several encounters with Messerschmitt Me 109s over France and Dunkirk as a Lysander gunner, before being selected for ASR duties. His Distinguished Flying Medal citation in September 1942 mentioned fifty rescue patrols, saving numerous airmen, including two wing commanders, Johnny Peel and Petrus Dutch’ Hugo. This photograph was taken on his wedding day. Glew was killed while sitting in his tent when American fighters inadvertently strafed his airfield

A Walrus picture, taken on Corsica in 1944.

Lieutenant J.O. ‘Ossie’ Newton-Thompson of 1 Squadron SAAF baled out of his Spitfire while giving cover to a Walrus picking up downed USAAF airmen on 1 May 1944, thus adding to the overcrowding of the Walrus.

Flying Officer G.C.W. O’Neil of 451 Squadron RAAF was rescued by Trevor Humphrey and S.J. Heseltine on 7 June 1944. In early 1943, as a sergeant, O’Neil had received the Military Medal for getting back across the Western Desert and through German lines to safety. He later received the DFC.

Flying Officer Trevor Humphrey of 284 Squadron picked up five survivors from a USAAF B-17 on 1 May 1944, then had to rescue South African Spitfire pilot Ossie NewtonThompson, who had baled out over the rescue scene as his engine failed. Humphrey had previously flown with 278 Squadron in the UK.

One of the two Liberators (coded ‘ 15’) of the 484th Bomb Group (BG) that collided in mid-air on 3 May 1944. Three survivors were subsequently rescued by Brown and Taylor of 293 Squadron.

Consolidated B-24 Liberator ‘21’ of the 484th BG, which made it back to base despite losing some 12ft (3 7m) of its starboard wing in a mid-air collision with Liberator ‘ 15’ on 3 May 1944.

Lieutenant D.T. Gilson of No 1 Squadron SAAF was rescued by Denny Lunn and Warrant Officer M.D. Kelly on 24 May 1944. His dinghy could not be inflated so he had to remain in his Mae West for forty minutes before the Walrus arrived to pick him up.

On 10 June 1944 this 451st BG crew was forced to bale out of its stricken B-24. Standing, from left to right: Lieutenant Pickard (navigator); First Lieutenant Herbert A. Guiness (pilot); Second Lieutenant Bird (co-pilot); Lieutenant Schwab (bombardier). Kneeling, left to right: Sergeant Flint W. Gardner (nose gunner); Sergeant Robert J. Anderson (ball gunner); Staff Sergeant McPeak (gunner); Staff Sergeant Wathen (tail gunner) and Technical Sergeant Langlois (engineer). Gardner and Anderson were killed but Denny Lunn and Norm Pickles of 293 Squadron rescued the remainder.

Lieutenant R.G. Burdick of the 2nd FS, 52nd FG, was rescued by a Walrus of 293 Squadron on 9 December 1944.

Lieutenant Greg Burdick, having been picked up by a Walrus of 293 Squadron, had then to be rescued again, together with the RAF crew, after a night adrift as the Walrus was not able to take off. At noon the following day Burdick and the Walrus crew were rescued by British destroyer HMS Bicester. This picture, taken from the destroyer, shows one of her boats returning to the ship after taking the three men off.

Lieutenant K.B. Walker SAAF and Warrant Officer W. Burnett of 293 Squadron, who rescued Greg Burdick on 9 December 1944.

On 5 November 1944 Flight Lieutenant G.M. Gallagher and Warrant Officer V. Udberg rescued two crewmen from a B-26 of the 440th BS, 320th BG, before circling the area to direct a boat towards three other men in the water. From left to right: Lieutenants Charles Kamanski and Leland S. Ford (rescued by the Walrus); Lieutenant William Beebe (bombardier); Sergeant Peter Greco (engineer); Sergeant Kelly Friel (radio) and Sergeant Chapman (who was not on this mission).

Martin B-26 Marauders of the 320th BG over their target.

Three Walruses of 293 Squadron at Pisa in early 1945. The aircraft carry the squadron’s ZE codes. The middle Walrus (W2757) took part in at least six successful rescues with both 284 and 293 Squadrons.

Lieutenant Ray Veitch DFC SAAF of 260 Squadron, who was rescued three times from the sea in April 1945.

Chapter Seven

Towards D-Day and Beyond As 1943 ended and 1944 began, ASR Walrus crews and their Spitfire spotter colleagues had honed their role into a fine art, if alighting on any sea state could be deemed as such. The danger was still very real but the Walrus crews did not flinch from doing their very best to pick up anyone found in the water. Often they would attempt a rescue when the HSLs were not permitted to go out owing to the treacherous conditions. There had been a steady increase in aircraft crew coming down in the sea around Britain, and there would be many more in the final year of the war, only relieved in part along the coast of southern England once the Normandy invasion had been achieved. While I have listed as many rescues as I could find in my book Another Kind of Courage (PSL 1994), I will only include in this section some of the more interesting rescues by UK-based Walrus squadrons. All were interesting of course, but some were more extraordinary than others. As mentioned previously, the priority for the Walrus crews was to get men out of the water as quickly as possible, even if it meant being unable to take off again. On 4 October 1943, No 277 Squadron was involved in a rescue of a New Zealand Typhoon pilot, but darkness was fast approaching in the late afternoon and things were going to be tight. Furthermore, he was close to the enemy coast. Having been told they were looking for a lone airman, the Walrus crew actually found three. They were from a downed Douglas Boston and were quickly rescued by 277’s Healey and Fletcher. However, the Typhoon pilot, Flight Sergeant C.J. Shedden, had yet to be located. Reluctantly, the decision was made to leave the man in his dinghy overnight and hope he could be found at dawn. Jimmy Shedden recalled: ‘Darkness comes early in October, and it soon became obvious that if I was to be rescued at all it was not going to be that day. As the light faded the wind started to get up, and with it the sea. Then darkness set in and with it the sea began to perform. Wind and tide had been pushing me towards the shore and I could hear the waves crashing on the beach. During the night I gave up trying to empty water from the dinghy, and added to this I had another discomfort. Mae Wests have a packet of dye lightly sewn into them, and the form is for the stranded pilot to detach this

and trail it over the side to colour the water so aircraft can spot you. An overenergetic packer had made such a thorough job of attaching the dye container that there was no way I could detach it. So I spent the night soaking in a concentrated bath of heavily dyed water, and in the morning my skin was so brown I could have passed for a native; my fingernails had turned a brilliant shade of green.’ The next morning the search began again in the hope that an estimate of where the dinghy may have drifted to would prove correct. Nevertheless it was past noon before Jimmy saw Typhoons scouring the sea and he fired off a distress flare. Having located him, the Royal Navy concluded that he was too near the French coast to send out a boat, so 277 was called in. Once again Fletcher and Healey were on call and headed out. Once over the dinghy Tom Fletcher could see that the water was so rough he was not going to get off again, and would have to start taxying back. Fletcher and Healey alighted and pulled Shedden into the Walrus. As they started to motor back, they suddenly found a calm patch of sea and Fletcher gave taking off a try, but hit a wave, which tore off the starboard float. Healey had then to clamber out on to the port wing to keep the Walrus balanced. A call for assistance had already gone out and as they were now some distance from the shore, a Royal Navy Motor Anti-submarine Boat (MASB) arrived and embarked the three men. Fletcher asked its skipper to tow the Walrus; this was tried but didn’t work and gunners had to sink the amphibian before heading for Portsmouth. Jimmy Shedden went on to serve with No 486 Squadron until the end of the war, winning the DFC and rising from NCO to squadron commander. By this time a second rescue type, the Supermarine Sea Otter, had joined the British ASR units. It was similar to the Walrus in appearance, but with the engine mounted facing forward in a tractor (‘puller’) configuration, rather than the rear-facing ‘pusher’ arrangement of the Walrus. Owing to its location on the South Coast, No 277 Squadron continued to undertake the lion’s share of rescues. By this time there were many more Spitfires being used, not only to help locate downed airmen, but also to give some protection to the vulnerable Walrus crews. It was a Spitfire pilot of 277 that located the first rescue of the year on 28 January 1944, resulting in the rescue of a Canadian fighter pilot, whose dinghy had only partly inflated. The following day Pilot Officer P.C. Standen of 277 Squadron and his crew rescued one of the USAAF’s future top aces, Captain G.E. Preddy of the 352nd FG. Preddy’s P-47 Thunderbolt had suffered flak hits and he had been forced to bale out. Another Thunderbolt pilot saw this and circled while giving a radio fix. The sea was cold and rough. After the amphibian had alighted and the crew had brought Preddy aboard, an attempt was made to take off. The port wing

dug in however, ripping off the port float, making take-off impossible. Flying Officer F.E. ‘Tug’ Wilson had to walk out to the end of the opposite wing in order to maintain the amphibian’s balance, as Pete Standen began to taxy back. Everyone got extremely wet, especially Pete and Tug, both of whom were in their best blues, having been about to go on leave when the call came. George Preddy went on to achieve 28 aerial victories before he was killed in action on Christmas Day 1944. Pete Standen had previously gained fame in September 1943, when he had alighted to rescue a Polish pilot and take off amid shellfire from the French coast. The Poles awarded him the Polish Cross of Valour. Wilson had been with him on that occasion too. Many of 277 Squadron’s pilots and crewmembers continued their work throughout 1944, with Alan Grace, Kiwi Saunders, Tom Fletcher, Lionel Brown and Bill Greenfield all prominent. Fletcher had an interesting experience on 16 March 1944. His ‘customer’ had come down so close to the French coast that he had paddled ashore and could be seen on the beach. Tom, flying a Sea Otter, felt certain the Germans were quietly waiting for the amphibian to alight in shallow water before they opened fire, so signalled the Canadian, Flying Officer T.M. Saunderson, to paddle back out. The beach was also mined. Two escorting Spitfires went down and strafed German soldiers in the dunes as the pick-up took place. Fletcher later recalled: ‘I went round and had to come over the land to set down, and I was so near the beach that I could see seaweed breaking on top of the water! By this time the pilot had got about 400 yards [365m] offshore, and, wanting to slow down quickly, I put the wheels down once we had alighted, then whipped them up again. Len [Healey] quickly had the chap and pulled him in the back. The shore batteries started to fire at us and the first big “box” salvo fell, followed by a smaller salvo, then a third, closer and smaller. If we’d been there when the fourth fell, it would have fallen right on top of us. Len caught a piece of shrapnel that nicked a bit more off the same finger he’d had damaged the previous year. We gave the pilot dry clothing, which we always carried, later had his uniform cleaned and returned to Biggin Hill – and we never even had a thankyou from him!’ Later the same day Fletcher and Healey were sent out again to help 277 Squadron’s Lt D.V. ‘Barry’ Robinson (Fleet Air Arm), who had rescued the crew of a B-17 in the Somme Estuary. Squadron Leader R.W. Wallens had already picked up five of the B-17 crew, but Robinson could not take off with the weight of the other five, so Fletcher alighted and took off three of the ‘kippers’,

allowing Robinson to get off. At all times the danger was exacerbated by the proximity of mines. Soon afterwards Fletcher received the DFC to add to his DFM & Bar. He was a forthright man and did not suffer fools gladly, which sometimes put him in bad odour with his superiors. To the latter’s frustration, each time they hauled him in for a stiff talking-to, another gong would appear! Len Healey would add a DFC to his DFM later in the year. Between them they scored the highest total of airmen rescued during the war. Fletcher completed more than fifty rescues, while Healey, who had also flown with other pilots, notched up seventy-three between July 1942 and December 1944. March 1944 proved to be a busy month. Three more rescues were performed on the 18th, including two, by a Sea Otter and a Walrus, that picked up the crew of a pair of Dutch B-25s of 320 Squadron, one being four miles west of the Somme Estuary. Squadron Leader Brown and ‘Wally’ Wallens each returned with all five crewmembers. Leonard Brown had already received the DFC, while Wallens, a former Battle of Britain pilot, received his DFC that August. Wallens wrote a book in 1990 about his experiences, including the following conversation with fellow ASR pilot Alan Grace. Wallens had been flying spotter Spitfires and asked Grace if he could try his hand with the Walrus, to which Grace replied: ‘You must be off your bloody rocker. It’s like flying a brick shithouse. It takes off, flies and lands, all at the same speed. It wallows all over the place ignoring you flying it, and with the engine at the back it doesn’t fly like an aeroplane; in fact it really isn’t an aeroplane is it? It’s a bloody monstrosity; but God, what would we do without them on this job?’ As the June invasion of France came closer, increased air activity along the Channel inevitably meant more rescues of downed airmen. Many were Typhoon pilots, whose job it was to help blind German coastal radar by attacking enemy radar sites and undertake low-level attacks on the increasing number of V1 flying-bomb sites being built. When the invasion finally came on June 6 1944, 275 Squadron recorded eleven rescues during the period. One particularly interesting rescue was performed by 276 Squadron on 18 June. Flight Lieutenant T.A.H. Slack of 41 Squadron had come down following flak damage to his Spitfire. Flight Lieutenant D.R. ‘Tiny’ Martin and crew went out to find him, helped by another 41 Squadron pilot, Flight Sergeant J.P. Ware. The latter gained height in order to give a fix then continued to circle the area, keeping his leader in sight. Later a Vickers Warwick arrived, dropping a larger dinghy to Slack, who immediately transferred himself into it, tying the smaller dinghy to its side, just in

case it should be needed. Shortly after this a Walrus turned up. Slack told the author: ‘The Walrus alighted on the sea to take me on board, and who should I see waving at me from the back but Flight Sergeant Ware, who had baled out in the middle of the Channel. It was his Mayday calls which had been received because mine were sent too low over the sea. He had then circled around looking for me and had run out of fuel before he could get back to base. The sea was not rough but there was a large swell and the Walrus couldn’t get airborne. Luckily, an RAF launch appeared and took the two of us on board. The Walrus jettisoned all unnecessary equipment and, with the launch zig-zagging at speed in front of it to help calm the swell, the Walrus finally managed to take off.’ Another rescue by 276 Squadron had been undertaken on 12 June. Flight Sergeant I.D.M. Dunlop of 263 Squadron was hit by flak attacking a radar station and had to leave his Typhoon and take to his parachute. Already over the Channel was a Warwick looking for another downed pilot, as well as two of 276’s Spitfires. The crew of the Warwick heard the Mayday call and were over Dunlop’s dinghy within thirty minutes, then called up the Walrus. Iain Dunlop had a bit of extra help this day. He had become friendly with a WAAF (member of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force) who was a radio operator and knew his callsign. She took extra care to get a good bearing on his position and also alerted her pals in other triangulation stations to do the same. It was their fix that got the Spitfires to the spot so quickly. The pilot of the Walrus was Flight Lieutenant A.B. Hill, assisted by Flying Officer C. Rolls and Archie Kyle. Allen Hill also flew spotter Spitfires and was about to take command of B Flight. Sadly he was killed in a flying accident on 23 July. It is easy to forget the men and women ably working with radar and radio to help get fixes on Mayday calls that enabled the Spitfire and Walrus crews to locate the men in the water. On 14 September Leading Aircraftwoman Joyce Millard helped in the rescue of Warrant Officer (later Flying Officer) Hugh Ross of 80 Squadron. His Hawker Tempest V was hit over Holland and began losing oil. He decided to chance a rescue from the North Sea rather than face captivity and headed out. When the engine finally shuddered to a halt at 4,000ft (1,220m), Ross baled out. Joyce Millard was employed as a VHF/DF/RT operator and in constant touch with the Triangulation Room at Sector Ops, and Mayday calls were a priority. She helped to pinpoint Ross’s location, as a result of which he was rescued by a Walrus of 278 Squadron. In 1993 I was pleased to be able to put Hugh and

Joyce in contact with each other. During the war the plotters never knew who they had been helping and only rarely did they learn if a rescue had been successful. It wasn’t just fighter pilots who were rescued. Crews of much larger aircraft would all be accommodated, including those of USAAF B-17 and B-24 bombers, RAF Avro Lancasters and Halifaxes and a variety of twin-engined aircraft. However, with the larger types it was often a case of assisting, by directing HSLs to the exact spot where survivors were in the water. On 16 September 1944 the crew of a 420 Squadron Halifax ditched in the North Sea returning from a raid on Kiel. A Walrus of 278 Squadron was sent out from Martlesham Heath with Lieutenant N.C. Langdon (FAA) and Leading Aircraftman R. Atkins. The Halifax pilot, Flt Lt Vic Motherwell, was on his 14th operation, but his crew was on its 13th. They were flying a brand-new Halifax and had assured the groundcrew of its safe return. They were not far off the Dutch coast – Den Helder – when they ditched at 0410hr. Fortunately the bomber floated on the water for several minutes, allowing all eight crewmen to clamber into the two dinghies. They saw numerous searching aircraft but were not spotted. It was not until the late afternoon that three Halifaxes from their own squadron flew overhead, dropping smoke-floats, dinghies and supplies. The Walrus of 278 Squadron arrived, alighted and took the Halifax crew aboard. With no hope of taking off and with the light failing, Langdon began taxying towards the English coast. About an hour later a Navy launch (RML 512) arrived and embarked everyone from the Walrus and put the aircraft in tow. However, German E-boats were reported in the area, confirmed by a starshell exploding in the sky. The Walrus was immediately cut loose and the MTB sped forward towards the English coast. Vic Motherwell and his crew went on to complete their tour of thirty operations, Motherwell receiving the DFC. As the war moved into mainland Europe, some Walruses began operations from the Continent, but rescues quickly tailed off. Damaged aircraft could now make a forced landing behind Allied lines without having to risk a sea crossing. Throughout their existence, the Walrus and Sea Otter squadrons could be relied on to do their best in all weathers and whatever the sea state was. The lives they directly and indirectly saved gave tremendous confidence to the fighter and bomber fraternities, as well as a whole variety of other servicemen who found themselves in the sea. The ‘top scorer’ was No 277 Squadron, with a final total of 598 ‘live’ rescues. Next came 278 Squadron with some 304, followed by 276 Squadron with 302. In total, 120 rescues were recorded by 275 Squadron, made up of fifty-eight Walrus rescues plus a further sixtytwo located by aircraft and rescued by boats. In the Middle East and Mediterranean No 293 Squadron rescued more

than 100 men from the sea, 294 Squadron had saved more than fifty airmen and 284 Squadron recorded more than seventy successful rescues. Formed in February 1943, No 283 Squadron transferred its Walruses to 293 Squadron in April 1944, before becoming a Warwick unit. Known rescues by 283 Squadron were around ninety. Decorations awarded to the ASR units included: one DSO; one OBE; thirtyseven DFCs (plus two Bars to DFC); nineteen DFMs (one Bar to DFM); four Air Force Crosses; one Air Force Medal; five American DFCs; four American Air Medals; one Polish Cross of Valour; one Norwegian St Olav’s Medal with Oak Leaf; one British Empire Medal and at least three Mentions in Despatches. Undoubtedly many more were deserved.

The Supermarine Sea Otter, the last biplane to enter RAF service, was designed to supersede the Walrus and was used by both the RAF and Fleet Air Arm, initially entering service with the latter at the end of 1943. Depending on sea conditions it could take off with a larger load of passengers than the Walrus.The main difference between the Walrus and the Sea Otter was the latter’s more powerful Bristol Mercury engine in a tractor configuration rather than the Walrus’s ‘pusher’ Pegasus.

Future USAAF fighter ace Captain George E. Preddy (left) was rescued by Pete Standen of 277 Squadron on 29 January 1944. On the right is fellow pilot Lieutenant Fred Yokum, who located his companion and called up the ASR boys. Both were from the 352nd FG.

Jimmy Shedden of No 486 Squadron RNZAF was brought down by flak and had to endure a night in his dinghy off the French coast on 4 October 1944. He was rescued the next day by Tom Fletcher and Len Healey of 277 Squadron, although the Walrus lost a float. The Royal Navy eventually picked them all up, but the Walrus had to be sunk by gunfire.

Peter Standen of 277 Squadron flew Walruses and Spitfires while serving with the unit.

Flying Officer F.E. ‘Tug’ Wilson of 277 Squadron crewed with Standen on the Preddy rescue and was involved in several rescues in 1943.

Some of the crew of the Dutch B-25 Mitchell rescued by Len Brown and ‘Wally’ Wallens

on 18 March 1944. To the left is Corporal Kuan Nouhuis and beside him is pilot Flight Lieutenant H.J.Voorspuy.

Two more members of the Dutch Mitchell crew, including Sergeant Jan Vink (centre) and Corporal M. Engelsmar at Vink’s wedding.

Sergeant Jan Ott of the 320 Sqn Mitchell crew rescued on 18 March 1944.

From left to right: Sub-Lieutenant Eric Hall (Fleet Air Arm); Squadron Leader R.W. Wallens and Sergeant Jimmy Cartwright of 277 Squadron, who helped in the rescue of the Dutch-crewed Mitchell on 18 March 1944.

This map showing the locations of the rescues performed by 277 Squadron as at 13 April 1944 clearly illustrates the number of rescues that were undertaken close to the enemy shore.

Pilot Officer R.W. Thatcher of 412 Squadron RCAF was rescued ten miles (16km) north of Les Sept-Isles on 7 June 1944 by Ken Butterfield and Sergeants G. Douglas and R. Churchill of 276 Squadron.

Three stalwarts of 276 Squadron, from left to right: Warrant Officer Len Badger DFM, Flight Lieutenant Ken Butterfield DFC and Warrant Officer ‘Jock’ Cameron. Butterfield rescued Pilot Officer R.W. Thatcher of 412 Sqn RCAF on 7 June 1944. Ten days later Butterfield and Badger picked up Flying Officer H.A. Cooper of 266 Sqn. Butterfield and Badger also rescued Flight Lieutenant G. Holloway of 16 Sqn on 2 September.

‘Wally’ Wallens (right) with Jackie Rose of 277 Squadron. Rose flew with several Walrus pilots, including Alan Grace, Noel Mackertich, Len Brown and Pete Standen, and was involved in numerous rescues.

Flight Lieutenant T.A.H. ‘Tom’ Slack of 41 Squadron ditched on 18 June 1944 after being hit by groundfire. His wingman, Flight Sergeant J.P. Ware, called for the ASR boys as he circled above, but ran out of fuel and also had to ditch.

Tom Slack in his dinghy on 18 June 1944. A smoke-float has been dropped so as not to lose sight of the location of the downed airman.

Flight Lieutenant D.R. ‘Tiny’ Martin taxys his Walrus towards Slack’s dinghy.To the latter’s surprise, Ware was waving from the rear hatch, having been picked up some minutes earlier. It had been his Mayday call that had instigated the rescue, as Slack had been too low for his call to be picked up.

Hawker Typhoon pilot Flight Sergeant I.D.M. Dunlop of 263 Squadron was rescued by Barry Hill on 23 June, with a great deal of help from a friendly WAAF radio operator.

Flying Officer A.B. Hill of 276 Squadron flew both Spitfires and Walruses. On 23 June

1944 he rescued Iain Dunlop of 263 Squadron. Sadly Hill was killed in a flying accident in a Spitfire exactly one month later, on 23 July. A married man from Stourbridge, Barry Hill was buried in his hometown.

It was not unusual for crews to mark successful rescues on their Walruses.This 278 Squadron machine at Coltishall has been marked by the crew to record the number of rescues by nationality. It shows six Poles, one RAF, another RAF, eight USAAF and four Dutch.

Spitfires were an essential part of the rescue service, being able to cover a large area of sea to locate downed airmen. This Castle Bromwich-built Spitfire V, AD562, operated

with 278 Squadron at Martlesham Heath.

Warrant Officer Hugh Ross of 80 Squadron was rescued by a 278 Squadron crew on

14 September 1944, again with the help of a WAAF radio operator.

Leading Aircraftwoman Joyce Millard, the WAAF radio operator who assisted in the rescue of Hugh Ross, although it was many years before she discovered who the man had been that September day.

The eight-man crew of a 420 Squadron RCAF Halifax rescued by 278 Squadron on 16 September 1944. From left to right, rear: Flight Lieutenant V.G. Motherwell; Flying Officer I.E. McGown (navigator); Flying Officer A.J. Macdonald (bomb aimer); Sergeant J. Porter (flight engineer) and Sergeant J.A. Wigley. Front, from left to right: Flying Officer L.K. Engomoen (wireless operator); Sergeant T.J. Bibby (air gunner) and Sergeant J.L. Hickson (rear gunner).

Rescues frequently began with a Walrus crew getting the downed airmen out of the water before transferring them to an HSL. This photograph of Thornycroft-built HSL 191 was taken from a Walrus of 277 Squadron.

This photograph shows evidence of Fleet Air Arm pilots serving with 277 Squadron in 1944. Middle row, from left to right: Lieutenant A.B. Edgar (FAA); Lieutenant E.C. Ellis (FAA); Pilot Officer Tom Ormiston DFC and Flight Lieutenant D.G. Sheppard.

As the war neared its end, more rescue operations had to be undertaken off the Dutch or Belgian coasts. On 15 October 1944 this Walrus of 276 Squadron was hit by flak, as evidenced by the damage sustained to the elevator. The crew are, from left to right, Sergeant Shipley, Warrant Officer Eddie Lloyd and Sergeant Pete Speed.

After Operation Overlord, Walruses were also operated from the continent. Here a 276 Squadron machine awaits another sortie at St Croix airfield, near Ghent in Belgium, in October 1944.

From left, Flying Officer Don Dring, Flight Lieutenant James V. Renvoize and Flying Officer Tom Vacquier pose for a photograph on the canopy of a 276 Squadron Walrus at Knokke in Belgium in December 1944.

The last of the many – the crew that made 277 Squadron’s 598th and final rescue, on 12 December 1944, pose alongside one of the unit’s Walruses. Holding the propeller is Flying Officer C.G. Walker, with Flight Lieutenant C.G. Robertson DFC directly beneath him and Flight Sergeant W. Shaw to the right. This crew picked up Lieutenant O’Quinn of the 359th FS, 356th FG, US Eighth Air Force. The sea was too rough to take off, forcing them to taxy back to the English coast. Cecil Walker had been a well-known dirttrack rider before the war and was killed with Colin Robertson, a former bomber pilot, during a search mission with 278 Squadron in March 1945.

Table of Contents Title Copyright Contents Chapter 1: The Beginning Chapter 2: The Walrus Chapter 3: How it was Done Chapter 4: The Pace Quickens Chapter 5: The Mediterranean Chapter 6: Around Italy Chapter 7: Towards D-Day and Beyond

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