Monthly Archives: May 2015

An exciting week is ahead of me, but the past exciting week still feels as if it is following me behind, and somewhere in between the two my brain is trying to keep up with things!

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Ahead of me this week is a trip to RAF Manston, one of the earliest airfields, first used in 1915 by the Royal Flying Corps. Here Barnes Wallis spent time testing the ‘dambusters’ bouncing bomb nearby. From here one of the bravest and most poignant moments of the second world war occurred when six Fairey Swordfish biplanes, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Eugene Esmonde, RN, of 825 Squadron took off in a desperate mission to try and stop the passage through the Dover Straits of the two German battle cruisers, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. They were about the only unit available in the sudden emergency. Promised fighter cover of five squadrons of Spitfires did not materialise in time and with only 11 Spitfires in escort they gallantly but hopelessly flew into the fray. They were set upon by Fw190s and Bf109s, and flew through smoke screens into a tremendous barrage from destroyers, e-boats and battle cruisers. There were only five survivors.  Esmonde was not one of them. The full story should be read, as it is astounding from many angles. Please have a look at this if you can: http://www.channeldash.org/swordfish17.html

The most touching, for me, is the fact that the CO at Manston, knowing that Esmonde and his crews were taking off almost certainly to their deaths, stood on the runway and saluted as they went.

The history of Manston is awaiting me, and I will be meeting Joe Bamford,(instigator of Dad’s memoirs being written) who is currently writing a series of books on that subject. I can’t go wrong!  Much to look forward to!

I was delighted to finish off my visit to Hawarden with a meeting of Singers – a trio, in fact. Bob Francis and friend Ken arrived at the Airport in their two beautiful Singers: one a Le Mans a year older than Chattie and the other a Roadster from the 1950s, both in immaculate order. Thank you to you both so much.

With the friendly helpfulness I am constantly experiencing from vintage and classic car owners, they offered to lead me in convoy out of Hawarden and across Chester towards my next airfield, Calveley. Ken had to leave us after Chester, but Bob came with me to Calveley, and helped me find what is left. Like High Ercall, the land is claiming this one back. Unlike High Ercall, its remains linger in dishevelled neglect. A rough, rutted track leads to buildings which are instantly recogniseable as RAF Calveley, but time and chance have definitely happened to them all.

I met my uncle and aunt, Chris and Angie at Hawarden Airport (pronounced ‘Harden’), at the Chocks Away Cafe. What a treat! We ordered afternoon tea, and saw the sandwiches being prepared to order. A true afternoon tea with tiered cake stand with delicious crustless sandwiches at the bottom, scones with clotted cream in the middle and cakes atop the rest; pot of tea served in flowery cups and saucers and as many refills as required. All this served with a smile and a view of the airfield.

Highly recommended.

John Phipps at Cokebusters with a Rolls Royce Merlin engine

Chris is one of my father’s half-brothers, and himself spent time here at Hawarden (as also at RAF Valley) in the meteorological station here. After tea, we crossed the airport to the office of John Phipps of Cokebusters, in one of the oldest buildings on site, dating from wartime days. Cokebusters is a live engineering company but also operates a charity from the Normandy Veterans – see  www.d-dayrevisited.co.uk . The office was indeed reminiscent of wartime days, and the walls were covered with things relating to those days. Pride

of place, however, went to a Rolls Royce Merlin engine, which powered such a large part of the RAF’s total fleet of aircraft: Spitfire, Hurricane, Lancaster and the Boulton Paul Defiant being but a few on the long list.

Airbus ‘Beluga’ taxiing to runway.

Today, Hawarden is dominated by the Airbus facility. I was stunned to see the Airbus’ aptly-named ‘Beluga’ – a huge whale of an aeroplane indeed. Imagine a large jet with the top sliced off and replaced with an enormous humped back, dwarfing the original cockpit which just peeps out below. Imagine such a ponderous creature moving along the runway and slowly, smoothly pushing up improbably into the air, angling towards the clouds as if being hooked out on a line from the earth by a celestial whaler. It’s an astonishing sight. And the reason for this unlikely feat of engineering? It has all been designed and constructed to carry the wings of the Airbus to Toulouse (I believe) where they are to be fitted to the fuselage. Until today I had never considered that such large planes might be made in pieces countries apart, and if I had, I would never have thought about how such large body parts might be brought together. Now I know.

During the war? Well, the modern Airbus follows in the tradition of the shadow factories, of which there was one here. Nearly 5,500 Vickers Wellington bombers were build here, and over 200 Lancasters. It had a maintenance unit (MU), and also housed No 3 Ferry Pilot’s Pool, Air Transport Auxiliary: it was for this reason that Dad was here on 10 February 1942, in a Dominie, on his fortnight’s stint the ATA.

Everything about my welcome at RAF Shawbury was warm, including the weather. Sqn Ldr Kim Leach was thoughtfulness itself in arranging this visit, from first arrival to leaving. Lunch was with reporter Toby Neal from the Shropshire Star, himself an aviation enthusiast, and Adjutant, Tim (sorry, I can’t remember your surname) in the surroundings of a panelled Officers Mess dating from the early years of the war. Kim tells me that the layout – a large block containing the Mess and reception areas with long corridors stretching out into the wings on either side – is a standard one, so that it is easy to find ones way around in a new camp. There is a sky-blue carpet, high ceiling and the room is airy. Lunch: I chose tasty mushroom soup and macaroni cheese, which I eventually managed to eat around all the talking.  I wondered what was served here when my father came.

My father’s brother Frank was stationed here in 1942 with ground crew on the Maintenance Unit, and my father visited a couple of times. In October 1942 he even got a fellow pilot to drop him off so he could spend some time with Frank. Shawbury is very close to High Ercall, where Dad spent two weeks with the ATA (see previous post), so I would not be surprised if there was quite a bit of visiting to and fro during that stay. Frank is shown here on the right, with older brother Alan on the left, also ground crew. My father always had a strong admiration for those who worked to make the RAF work and get the planes airworthy, often under extremely difficult and stressful conditions, especially later when they followed the invasion force into Europe after D Day.

Shawbury’s today is home to the Defence Helicopter Flying School, the Central Flying School (Helicopter) and the Central Air Traffic Control School, and feels like a busy station with a good atmosphere. The Station Magazine, Airies, shows a place full of a wide range of activities to choose from, including barber shop singing, community support projects, ‘Football to Africa’ providing aid through football in Kenya – to mention a very few options available to those living and working here. There is also a lot to learn about Shawbury’s history.

In 1945, just after VE Day, Shawbury’s pioneering aviators, scientists and engineers launched a specially modified Lancaster, PD 328, known as Aries, on a special mission to find the Magnetic North Pole (as it had shifted since its previous discovery) among other important scientific tasks. Wing Commander McKinley subsequently wrote “Circling the Pole before the return journey we crossed all the meridians in some 80 seconds and moment later we crossed the International Date Line for the second time in less than two minutes while going in the same direction.’ Some trip for a Lancaster! (from an article in ‘Aries’ Edition 2, 2015, by Mr Michael Jones MBE (WO Rtd RAF).

Back in the present, out on the pale, sun-heated concrete, Chattie slid in beside a Squirrel helicopter for a photograph. Chattie’s chrome and the various points of the helicopter glinted with light, and the airfield shimmered with it. The sun was so bright here that my eyes watered while trying not to blink at the camera. Sqn Ldr Leach (shown right, before she waved me off) offered me a drink of water before I left, ‘because you’ve had to talk all morning!’ That really was very thoughtful, I can tell you. A personal thank you, then, to all at Shawbury who welcomed me; and a more serious thank you to all of you who work here to make the RAF what it is today.