New Zealanders with the Royal Air Force (Volume III)

PART I MEDITERRANEAN AND MIDDLE EAST

CHAPTER 1 Prelude to War

FLYING high over the Western Desert towards Cairo one glances around and below at a remarkable panorama. The whole of the eastern Mediterranean with all its long coastline is spread out beneath like a map. To the west, in the fine clear air of this part of the world, one can see past Tobruk towards Benghazi and the Gulf of Sirte; to the east the coastline of Palestine with Syria and its mountains beyond. Behind lies unrolled the island-sprinkled Aegean Sea; in front Egypt is revealed at one glance from the coast to beyond Cairo and the length of the Suez Canal from Port Said to Suez.

It was over all this territory and indeed for many hundreds of miles beyond even so remarkable a vision—over Greece, Malta, Tunisia and finally over Italy—that the Royal Air Force flew and fought during the Middle East campaign of the Second World War. Its operations were as varied as the region over which they ranged; they included almost every aspect of air warfare and they were conducted with great flexibility by able and experienced leaders whose touch was sure. Co-operation with the Army and Navy was developed to a high degree and this was an important factor in the final success. But the RAF's supreme achievement, as events on land and sea clearly show, was the winning and holding of command of the air. When this was lacking our forces suffered defeat after defeat—even the Navy's victories at Taranto and Matapan were followed by the loss of Crete and the closing of the Mediterranean; but once ascendancy in the air was achieved the partnership flourished and then victory was assured.

Mastery of the Mediterranean had long been a cardinal point in British strategy, since it was through this sea that lay the shortest and surest passage to and from India and an Empire beyond. And along this route, for which Gibraltar and Malta provided convenient stepping stones, the most vulnerable point was the Suez Canal, which made the defence of Egypt of prime importance. There was another reason for British interest in the security of the Middle East. Within its boundaries lay rich oilfields, and since in recent times movement by land, sea and air had come to depend more and more upon oil, access to oil was a military problem of the first gravity. Indeed it was one which might face Britain in a simple and very unpleasant form. Five-sixths of the world's supplies were produced beyond the Atlantic, where sea traffic was exposed to grave interruption in time of war; and nearly half the balance came from Russia and Rumania which were likely to be inaccessible. It was therefore essential that Britain should be able to draw freely on supplies of oil from Persia and Iraq. And if this was to be achieved, these regions, their ports and the sea routes must be held against any threat.

British sea power, the possession of Gibraltar, Malta and Alexandria as first-class naval bases, and Italy a well-disposed ally, had long guaranteed the security of the Mediterranean. During the First World War this had been invaluable to our cause. But when, in the late thirties, the war clouds gathered again, two novel and major considerations had arisen to threaten the security of British interests in that area. Italy, under Mussolini's aggressive leadership, had become a potential enemy and there was the advent of air power as a major factor in the control of narrow seas.

By 1939 Italian arms had reached a high peak. The fleet, if untried, was well equipped with fast ships of good quality, the army was numerous and had gained tropical experience in Abyssinia and North Africa whilst the Regia Aeronautica was perhaps the greatest national pride. Fortified by Douhet's teaching, Balbo's long-distance flights of large formations and a fine record in the races for the Schneider Trophy, the Italians had certainly made great efforts to create a modern air force. Backed by a substantial aircraft industry with well-equipped factories, it now had a total strength, including training, transport and reserves, of some 3000 machines. Its pilots had obtained valuable combat experience in the Spanish Civil War; the Abyssinian campaign had tested its organisation, if not its fighting quality, and the products of Italian engineering were viewed with respect in spite of an undue fidelity to old types of aircraft by reason of their superior manoeuvreability—for Italian pilots tended to associate spectacular aerobatics with good airmanship.

With her new-found strength, particularly that in the air, Italy threatened the whole British position in the Middle East. A mass of fighters and bombers assembled in Libya, where they were capable of prompt reinforcement from the Italian mainland, could present a serious danger to Egypt. At the same time bombers based in Sicily and Tripoli might well close the Mediterranean sea route at its narrowest point where the Sicilian Channel is a mere eighty miles wide. So sure was the British Admiralty of Italy's ability to do this that it presently declared itself unable to pass even military convoys through the Mediterranean ‘on account of the air danger’ and the Fleet was withdrawn to Alexandria and Gibraltar. Malta, from being a busy staging post, then became a threatened fortress on an untravelled road. Its possibilities as an air base capable of striking at Italian lines of communication between Tripoli and the European mainland were overlooked and it was left to prepare as best it could against possible Italian bombing. For Britain was ill-prepared to meet the changed situation. The fact that airfields and air power were now the key to command of the Mediterranean had not yet been fully accepted and Royal Air Force, Middle East, had been starved of aircraft in order to build up air strength at home.

Yet, in 1939, there was still reason to hope that, with France as an ally, the Italian challenge might be met. The French Fleet could neutralise a large part of the Italian Navy, French tenure of Djibouti safeguarded the gates of the Red Sea while much of the Italian mainland lay within bombing range of French airfields in Tunisia. All the same, as the shadows deepened over Europe once more, both Britain and France deemed it highly desirable that the Middle East should remain at peace. Strict instructions were given that Italy must in no wise be provoked, and although there was some reorganisation of our military dispositions, it was clear enough that the intention was to avoid hostile action in the hope that the Italians might show similar goodwill.

But the Italian dictator Mussolini was not disposed for peace. As a result of the alliance with Hitler's Germany, his dream of recreating the old Roman Empire in which the Mediterranean would once again become the ‘Mare Nostrum’ now seemed more likely of fulfilment. His protestations of devotion to the Axis cause became distinctly more audible and Italian preparations to share in the spoils which Hitler promised were conducted with all the secrecy of an operatic chorus with full orchestral accompaniment. The piazzas rang with shouts for Nice, Corsica and Tunis, interspersed, of course, with frequent references to ‘Mare Nostrum’; Fascist publications were pleased to depict massed echelons of the Regia Aeronautica proceeding south-eastwards towards Alexandria ahead of the Italian Fleet. And when, in June 1940, Mussolini saw the French armies reeling to defeat before the German onslaught, Britain isolated, her army rescued but without arms and without a single ally outside her Commonwealth, it seemed that this was his opportunity. There could surely be little risk in entering a war that, to all appearances, was practically over.

Until the last moment Britain strove to avoid war with Italy. On 16 May 1940, in an effort to dissuade Mussolini from taking action, Winston Churchill made a direct appeal to the Italian Prime Minister. It is described by Count Ciano, Mussolini's Foreign Minister and son-in-law, as ‘a message of goodwill …. dignified and noble.’ But the Italian dictator was in no mood to listen and he returned what Churchill could only describe as a ‘dusty answer’. Mussolini in fact wanted to declare war at once, but the Germans were less enthusiastic about their new ally and, at Hitler's request, the actual declaration against Britain was postponed until 10 June 1940.

Early that evening, speaking from the balcony of his office in Rome, Mussolini told the multitude gathered in the piazza below: ‘The hour marked out by destiny is sounding in the sky of our country. This is the hour of irrevocable decisions …. We are going to war against the plutocratic and reactionary democracies of the West who have hindered the advance and often threatened the existence of the Italian people ….’ But in spite of the long harangue which followed, Ciano notes in his diary that ‘news of the war does not arouse very much enthusiasm.’ And that same evening a broadcast from the capital of one of the ‘reactionary democracies’ prophesied that the summit of Mussolini's achievement would be ‘to increase the number of ruins for which Italy has long been famous.’ The speaker was Duff Cooper, who had resigned from the Chamberlain Government after the Munich Agreement and was now Minister of Information under Churchill.

Within a few days of Italy's entry into the war the Mediterranean situation was radically changed in her favour through the collapse of France. By a single stroke of the pen almost the whole of the French Navy was eliminated, leaving the British to do the best they could against heavy odds with such naval forces as were at Alexandria or might become available at Gibraltar—for between these two extremities, two thousand miles apart, they were now without a single friendly port except Valetta. At the same time the British lost the support of the French army and air force in North Africa, while along the south shore of the Mediterranean over a thousand miles of coast passed into a dubious neutrality under the vigilance of Italian and German armistice commissions. And in the Red Sea area, the French airfields at Djibouti were no longer available for British use.

Italy was thus in a position to launch a powerful offensive against her weaker British adversary. In Libya some 215,000 troops under Marshal Graziani stood on the frontier ready to advance into Egypt, while another army of over 200,000 men in Italian East Africa threatened Egypt from the south and also the territories of British Somaliland, Sudan and Kenya. Against these impressive enemy ground forces the British Army under General Wavell had only 50,000 soldiers on all fronts; no single unit or formation was fully equipped and there was ‘a dangerous lack of anti-aircraft and anti-tank guns and other artillery’. The possibility of immediate reinforcement was remote for the route through the Mediterranean was now too precarious. It was even uncertain whether the long sea route via the Cape might not also be rendered unsafe by the action of enemy air and naval forces from East Africa operating in the narrow waters of the Red Sea.

This threat was taken so seriously that the Second Echelon of 2 NZEF, with an Australian brigade, was diverted to England.

The Italians also enjoyed a marked superiority in the air, for the RAF had only 300 operational aircraft whereas the Regia Aeronautica now possessed a front-line strength of some 1600 machines. A considerable part of this force was retained on the Italian mainland but strong contingents in Sardinia and Sicily cast a long shadow over the central Mediterranean; there were also substantial numbers of modern fighters and bombers deployed in Libya and East Africa, where their reinforcement was comparatively easy.

The Italian opportunity at the end of June 1940 was certainly immense. Both the Mediterranean and the Red Sea might be denied to British ships, and with Egypt almost completely isolated it should have been a relatively easy matter for Italy to secure control of the Nile Valley, using the vastly superior forces she had at both ends; for all Egypt lay within bombing range of her airfields and its anti-aircraft defence was weak. But as the summer weeks slipped by, the opportunity was missed. A few bombs fell on Alexandria, Omdurman, and even Haifa, but no air or ground offensive developed on a serious scale. The sky over Egypt and the Sudan was relatively untroubled by Italian aircraft; and there was no effective threat from bombers overhead to transports bringing Indian brigades up the Red Sea to Port Sudan or Australians and New Zealanders to Suez. The Italians also made no attempt to use torpedo aircraft against the vulnerable convoys. Indeed in the next five anxious months there were only two cases of damage to British ships by air attack in the Red Sea.

The Italian failure to take advantage of their opportunities was, in the opinion of General Wavell, ‘due firstly to our Air Force who, in spite of inferior numbers everywhere took and kept the initiative; and to the stout action of the small covering forces in Egypt, Sudan and East Africa; and finally to the enemy's lack of preparation or desire for hard fighting.’ Certainly the consummate showmanship and cheerful buccaneering methods by which the RAF produced an illusion of air superiority were to astonish its opponents. They also underlined the lesson, taught in the skies over Britain this same summer, that numbers were not the only test in air warfare.

Royal Air Force, Middle East, whose ample boundaries embraced Egypt, the Sudan, Palestine, Transjordan, Iraq, Aden, Somaliland and East Africa, was under the command of Air Marshal Sir Arthur Longmore,

Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur M. Longmore, GCB, DSO, Order of Crown (Bel), Legion of Honour (Fr), Croix de Guerre (Fr), Order of St. Maurice and St. Lazarus (It), Croix de Guerre (It), Royal Order of George I Grand Cross with Swords (Gk), Greek War Cross; RAF (retd); born St. Leonards, New South Wales, 8 Oct 1885; joined RN 1904; RFC 1912; transferred RNAS 1914; RAF 1918; AOC-in-C, RAF Training Command, 1939–40; AOC-in-C, RAF Middle East, 1940–41; Inspector-General, Royal Air Force, 1941–42; RAF representative, Post-Hostilities Planning Committee, 1943–44.

a tough little Australian who had been with the RAF since the First World War. Longmore's resources were certainly not on the same generous scale as his responsibilities. Over the whole area he had only twenty-nine squadrons and, even for these, replacements and reinforcements from Britain would not be forthcoming very easily; nor was there a local aircraft industry to help in the work of repair. Some fourteen squadrons, or about half the whole force, were based in Egypt, with the remainder scattered through the other British territories in the Middle East—a deployment corresponding with their primary role, which had been defined as ‘the defence of Egypt and the Suez Canal and the maintenance of communication through the Red Sea.’ The squadrons in Egypt, where the heaviest fighting was expected, were mainly those with the more up-to-date aircraft, the older types being relegated to supporting theatres. Few of the machines, however, were really modern. Nine of the fourteen bomber units were armed with the reasonably efficient but very short-range Blenheim I and two of the four naval co-operation units had Sunderlands. But even the best equipped of the tactical reconnaissance squadrons had only the virtually defenceless Lysander, while none of the five fighter squadrons had anything better than the obsolescent Gladiator biplane. In fact almost half the force was equipped with such outdated machines as Bombays, Valentias, Wellesleys, Vincents and Battles—veterans which did, however, render effective and indeed noble service.

The RAF's main disadvantage lay in numbers and in difficulty of reinforcement since, in terms of performance, the British and Italian aircraft were on the whole not unequal. The British Gladiator, for example, was about evenly matched with the best Italian fighter, the Cr42, while the Blenheim was rather faster than the main Italian bomber, the S79, although the latter had a longer endurance and carried a greater bomb load. Moreover, it was not without importance that there were British air and ground crews in the Middle East who were seasoned and well tried, for this area had been the home ground of the RAF since the First World War. All the same the training and experience that had been gained in peacetime were soon to be sorely tested.

* * * * *

In June 1940 there were some fifty New Zealanders with the RAF in the Middle East. The majority of them had enlisted under short-service commission schemes in the pre-war years and trained as pilots but there were several medical and engineering officers and others engaged on various ground or staff duties. Many had already seen service in different parts of the Middle East where, in the pre-war years, the RAF had provided an efficient and economical means of policing an Empire—for in those days an exhibition of low flying, a

The Mediterranean Theatre The circles represent the approximate operational limits for the single-engined fighters and the Beaufighters with which Royal Air Force squadrons were equipped in the early years of the war.

Colour map showing airforce operations in the Mediterranean Theatre few bursts of machine-gun fire or a demonstration bomb were usually sufficient to restore order amongst truculent tribesmen. Several pilots had flown with No. 203 Wellesley Squadron at Summit in the Sudan, where their duties included the normal peacetime routine of punitive action against native tribes, urgent Government flights carrying Ministers and local officials, and the transport of medical supplies. Others had carried out similar duties in Palestine. During the disturbances in that country in the late thirties, Squadron Leader McGregor

Air Vice-Marshal H. D. McGregor, CBE, DSO, Legion of Merit (US); RAF; born Wairoa, 15 Feb 1910; joined RAF1928; permanent commission 1932; commanded Nos. 33 and 213 Sqdns 1939–40; RAF Station, Ballyhalbert, 1941; RAF Station, Tangmere, 1942–43; Group Captain, Operations, Mediterranean Air Command, 1943–44; Allied Deputy Director of Operations, Intell. Plans, N. Africa and Italy, 1944; AOC Levant, 1945–46; Planning Staff, North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, Washington, 1949–51.

led No. 33 Gladiator Squadron and his fine leadership in operations against the rebel tribes won him admission to the Distinguished Service Order.

At Aden and in Iraq there was a steady sequence of New Zealand pilots, notably Squadron Leader Barnett,

Air Vice-Marshal D. H. F. Barnett, CBE, DFC; RAF; born Dunedin, 11 Feb 1906; Cambridge University Air Squadron, 1926–29; permanent commission RAF 1929; commanded No. 40 Sqdn 1940; RAF Station, Swanton Morley, 1942–43; Air Staff Strategic Bombing Duties, Bomber Command, 1944; SASO (Org) Bomber Command, 1945.

who was in charge of a squadron at the remote base of Shaibah, and Squadron Leader Russell

Air Vice-Marshal H. B. Russell, CB, DFC, AFC; RAF (retd); born Hastings, 6 May 1895; commissioned Royal Field Artillery, 1914; seconded RFC 1915 and RAF 1918; permanent commission RAF 1919; SASO, No. 21 Training Group, 1939–40; SASO, No. 2 RAF Component, France, 1940; served with Fighter Command, 1940–41; AOC No. 215 Group, Middle East, 1942–43; AOC No. 70 Group, United Kingdom, 1943–45; Air Officer i/c Administration, HQ FTC, 1946–49.

who commanded bombers at Aden. Iraq had been ‘controlled’ by the RAF since 1921 and an early incident in which one well-known New Zealander figured is described by Sir Arthur Longmore in his memoirs:

A tribe to the north, somewhere west of Mosul, had given some trouble to the French during its wanderings on the Syrian side of the frontier, at this point merely a line drawn across the map with no special feature on the desert to identify it. One of our patrolling aircraft, flown by Squadron Leader Arthur Coningham

Air Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham, KCB, KBE, DSO, MC, DFC, AFC, Legion of Honour (Fr), Distinguished Service Medal (US), Order of Leopold (Bel), Croix de Guerre with Palm (Bel); born Brisbane, 19 Jan 1895; 1 NZEF 1914–16; entered RFC 1916; permanent commission RAF 1919; AOC No. 4 Group, Bomber Command, 1939–41; AOC Western Desert, 1941–43; AOC 1st TAF, N. Africa, Sicily, Italy, 1943–44; AOC-in-C, 2nd TAF, invasion of NW Europe and Germany, 1944–45; lost when air liner crashed during Atlantic crossing, Jan 1948.

of 55 Squadron (later Air Marshal Sir Arthur Coningham) came down low over the tribe and was fired on. He returned to Mosul, picked up the political adviser, flew back to the tribe, landed near by and called for the Sheikh to give an explanation of his conduct.

It was explained that the machine was thought to be a French one and part of a flight which had recently bombed them. The Sheikh was told not to make such a mistake again. He was so impressed by the action of this R.A.F. pilot in landing amongst them that he wrote a message on the cowling of the aircraft in Arabic, to the effect that its crew were not to be harmed and every assistance given to them. This inscription was later reproduced on a large scale in polished aluminium and riveted on in a conspicuous place.

Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Longmore, From Sea to Sky.

The main RAF base in Iraq was at Habbaniya, built in a bend of the Euphrates and a veritable oasis in the desert; it was the site of an important Flying Training School which, incidentally, was to win considerable renown in the campaign against the Iraqi rebels early in 1941. Here and elsewhere New Zealand pilots continued to share in the various tasks which fell to the RAF squadrons in the pre-war years. The flights across wide tracts of uncivilised and strange country, often under conditions of extreme heat and discomfort, demanded qualities of resource and endurance, but there is little doubt that for air and ground crews alike the arduous and adventurous operations of those days provided most valuable training and experience. For these men, at least, war in the desert would bring a life and circumstances that were not altogether new.

Before the end of 1940 pilots, observers, wireless operators and gunners of the Royal New Zealand Air Force, trained under the Empire Air Training Scheme, had begun to arrive in the United Kingdom. These men were placed by the New Zealand Government at the disposal of the RAF for operations and accordingly many were posted at once to the Middle East. Later many men passed through operational training units in the United Kingdom, Kenya and South Africa, which supplemented the work of similar units already in Egypt and Palestine to produce a steady influx of trained aircrew from Britain and the Commonwealth.

Altogether nearly 1500 New Zealanders served with the RAF Middle East and Mediterranean commands. Almost all were aircrew, for at the request of the British Government New Zealand concentrated largely on aircrew training. A small contingent of ground crew, radar mechanics, fitter armourers and wireless mechanics did, however, find their way to the Middle East to do valuable work with various RAF squadrons and maintenance units. Unfortunately, however, no New Zealand squadrons were formed in the Mediterranean theatre, with the result that Dominion personnel became extremely scattered; indeed, such was the New Zealanders' reputation for ubiquity that it became something of a Mediterranean legend and it was almost impossible to find an RAF unit without at least one or two New Zealand airmen in it. As one of their Australian comrades remarked, ‘These ruddy “pig-islanders” get everywhere—it must be their earthquakes that spread them about.’

In the Middle East, as in the other theatres of RAF operations, New Zealanders were to make their mark as leaders, as commanders of various units and as specialists in many fields. The Dominion may well remember with pride the contribution of Air Marshal Coningham, who commanded the Tactical Air Force in the Western Desert, in North-west Africa and in the invasion of Italy; of Air Vice-Marshal Maynard,

Air Vice-Marshal F. H. M. Maynard, CB, AFC, Legion of Merit (US); RAF (retd); born Waiuku, 1 May 1893; served with RN Divisional Engineers 1914–15; transferred RNAS 1915; RAF 1918; permanent commission RAF 1919; AOC RAF Mediterranean, 1940–41; Air Officer i/c Administration, Coastal Command, 1941–44; AOC No. 19 Group, Coastal Command, 1944–45.

who showed how Malta could be saved, and of Air Chief Marshal Park

Air Chief Marshal Sir Keith R. Park, GCB, KBE, MC and bar, DFC, Croix de Guerre (Fr), Legion of Merit (US); RAF (retd); born Thames, 15 Jun 1892; in First World War served Egypt, Gallipoli and France with NZ Fd Arty, 1914–15, and Royal Fd Arty, 1915–16; seconded RFC 1917; permanent commission RAF 1919; SASO, HQ Fighter Command, 1938–40; commanded No. 11 Fighter Group during Battle of Britain; AOC No. 23 Training Group, 1941; AOC RAF Egypt, 1942; AOC RAF Malta, 1942–43; AOC-in-C, Middle East, 1944–45; Allied Air C-in-C, SE Asia, 1945–46.

in charge of air operations in defence of Egypt before Alamein and from Malta during the period when the Luftwaffe was finally beaten and the island turned to the offensive. The large majority, however, played their part in less prominent roles as fighter pilots or among the crews of bomber and reconnaissance aircraft. These were the men who helped to create the legend of the Desert Air Force with its nomadic, individual way of life, its variegated and often highly unorthodox uniform and a tradition that was much envied by other parts of the Royal Air Force. Back and forth across the desert, through Cyrenaica to Tripoli and across the narrow seas to Sicily and Italy, they flew and fought their aircraft alongside their comrades of the Army; and with them they shared the dust and the heat, the flies and the sores, the mud and biting wind, the shortage of water and the interminable corned beef and chlorinated tea. For life with the Air Force in the Middle East was very different from that in the home commands. Here men were divorced from all the normal amenities of life with little but their work to occupy their minds. Their surroundings lacked any of the usual landmarks and often for miles in every direction there were no houses, trees, hills or roads. Their ration scale certainly allowed liberal quantities of bully beef and tea but rarely did it provide enough water; indeed the allowance was sometimes only half a gallon a day each for all purposes including cooking and washing, and even this meagre dole could not always be guaranteed. And as retreat and advance swayed the RAF backwards and forwards over the desert its men had to become more and more mobile, and this usually meant the sacrifice of even the few personal belongings which had served to remind them that there was somewhere, at least, another kind of existence.

The desert was indeed a hard school of war, but for many of those who lived and fought in and over it there was a certain glamour in its vivid contrasts, its monotony and its infinite variety, its soft beauties and harsh rigours and, above all, its clean and invigorating spaciousness. Moreover, as those who took part in the desert campaigns know full well, it was the background on which was woven that pattern of teamwork between the armed services which contributed so much to ultimate victory.

CHAPTER 2 Early Operations over Many Fronts

NO clash of opposing armies, no sudden invasion with hard-fought border battles followed the declaration of war in the Middle East. For the Italians, not altogether prepared for total war, were in no hurry to begin their much-heralded campaign; over a month passed in which their armies did little more than concentrate with extreme deliberation on the borders of Egypt, the Sudan and British Somaliland. Meanwhile British patrols fenced adroitly along the various frontiers.

But if events on the ground moved slowly, there was lively activity in the air from the outset—at least on the part of one participant. Within a few hours of Mussolini's bombastic broadcast, Blenheims from Egypt were over the Italian airfield at El Adem where their bombs, bursting among hangars and closely parked aircraft, caused consternation among its occupants, who seem to have overlooked even the most elementary precautions against unfriendly visitors. The RAF followed up with further raids on the enemy's forward airfields in Cyrenaica and on oil tanks and shipping at Tobruk. Simultaneously Wellesleys from the Sudan struck at the Italian aerodromes of Asmara, Gura and Massawa while Blenheims from Aden bombed Assab and Diredawa, causing considerable damage to aircraft, hangars and sup plies. At Massawa about 800 tons of petrol went up in flames.

This was the start of a spirited and, for those days, quite remarkable offensive against enemy airfields, bases and ports, against troop concentrations in camps and convoys and any supply dumps within reach. For Longmore had decided that, in the circumstances, bold attack was the sole alternative to extinction and surprise the best method of attack. Yet it was only by appearing in unexpected strength and in unexpected places that he could hope to produce an illusion of air superiority since his forces were pitifully small; it was also doubtful whether he would receive either replacements or reinforcements for some time to come. Accordingly the RAF's watchword became ‘We'll fox them’, as lumbering Bombay transports were turned into long-range bombers and outdated Lysanders were sent on impudent and dangerous spotting missions for the Army. A single Hurricane fighter which arrived in August was made to operate from several landing grounds in the desert on the same day, achieving an astonishing effect on the Italians, who had nothing to match its performance. This versatile machine was soon nicknamed ‘Collie's Battleship’, after Air Commodore R. Collishaw,

Air Vice-Marshal R. Collishaw, CB, DSO and bar, OBE, DSC, DFC, Croix de Guerre (Fr), Order of St. Anne (Rus), Order of St. Stanislaus (Rus), Order of St. Vladimir (Rus); RAF (retd); born Nanaimo, British Columbia, 22 Nov 1893; entered RNAS 1915; RAF 1918; commanded RAF Station, Heliopolis, 1936-38; AOC Egypt Group, 1939–41; AOC No. 204 Group, Middle East, 1941; AOC No. 14 Group, 1942–43.

who was in charge of air operations over the Western Desert.

Collishaw, a cheerful Canadian who had emerged from the First World War with the second highest total of kills credited to any British fighter pilot, soon brought the business of outwitting the Italians to a fine art. With great skill he introduced a comprehensive system of deception, using dummy aircraft and operating small groups of fighters from widely spaced bases. At the same time, by frequent patrols and by continual attacks on their troops, bases and airfields, he kept the Italians in such a state of apprehension that they were led to fritter away their greater air strength upon innumerable defensive patrols. Similar tactics and adventurous operations on the other fronts produced the same reaction. Indeed, continual standing patrols soon became the normal routine of an Italian fighter pilot's day as air umbrellas were unfurled over bases, ports, lines of communication and over ground units unwilling to move without such protection.

This feeble reply to the initial British attacks undoubtedly laid the foundations of the eventual breakdown of the Italian fighter force. For as its defensive patrols increased, so engine hours mounted up and the serviceability rate fell. Then, the more aircraft to be serviced the less able was their maintenance organisation to deal with what was already on hand and the longer it took to get aircraft back to the front–line squadrons. The more aircraft being treated for one fault or another the more unwieldy the system became, so that later when advance and retreat swayed the army back and forth across the desert the Regia Aeronautica was unable to keep in step. Then still more aircraft were lost either by capture or by damage from RAF raids.

Yet in view of the superior numbers they possessed at the beginning, the enemy's timidity was astonishing. Although at times the Italians made things uncomfortable at our forward positions and airfields, their pilots showed no particular keenness to join issue with the Gladiators and in strategic operations farther afield they showed quite extraordinary lack of enterprise. A few sorties were made against Alexandria but these were promptly deterred by our fighters and naval guns. Throughout the whole of July the enemy's only real success was a raid on Haifa which set fire to three oil tanks. Strangest of all, the Italian bombers almost entirely neglected our great repair depot at Aboukir and its subsidiary units, the destruction of which might well have crippled the Middle East Air Force. Instead, weak Italian air policy allowed the RAF to seize the initiative and by aggressive tactics establish a defensive mentality among its opponents.

This was undoubtedly the main achievement of Longmore's small force in the early months but it could also record more tangible results. In operations from Egypt, for example, the old Italian cruiser San Giorgio was hit and crippled as she lay in Tobruk harbour; early in August a large ammunition dump near Bardia was bombed and blown up in a spectacular explosion; that same month Gladiators supporting a naval bombardment of Bardia shot down eight Italian bombers without loss to themselves. The enemy's main supply port of Benghazi was also raided on several occasions.

Elsewhere the RAF also continued to hold the initiative. A slender force operating from Aden and Perim, supplemented by patrols from Port Sudan, succeeded in keeping open the vital Red Sea route; between June and December 1940, when fifty–four convoys were escorted by air, only on two occasions were ships damaged, which spoke well for the unceasing vigilance of the Blenheim crews, especially as the temperature inside their aircraft sometimes rose to 130 degrees while they were patrolling down the Red Sea.

In the Sudan the three Wellesley squadrons continued to raid Italian airfields, ports, railways and supply dumps and give close support to the British forces operating in that area. ‘Day after day,’ writes one observer, ‘the large ungainly machines, with their single engine and vast wing spread, took off to make their way over some of the most dangerous flying country in the world—country where for hours you could not make a landing and where the natives were unfriendly to the point of murder. They had been coming back often with their great wings slashed and torn by flying shrapnel; sometimes they just managed to struggle home with controls shot away and the undercarriage would collapse bringing the machines lurching down on the sand on one wing like some great stricken bird. But always they seemed to get back somehow.’

In East Africa units of the South African Air Force, together with RAF Blenheim squadrons, were active in reconnaissance, scouring the coastal waters of Italian Somaliland; they also operated successfully against Italian airfields, vehicle concentrations and wireless stations, notably in the area of Kismayu. Typical of the spirit these squadrons brought to the offensive was the action of a Valentia pilot who grew tired of communication flying, filled a forty gallon oil drum with gelignite and scrap iron, wedged it on the sill of his cabin door and heaved it overboard to effect impressive slaughter among the defenders of a fort.

Only at Malta did the Italians appear to have the advantage in the air, but even here the RAF was soon to render their attacks on the island less rewarding. How this was achieved is an epic story presently to be related.

Throughout these early months New Zealanders played their part in patrol and attack over widely separated regions of the Middle East. In Egypt Squadron Leader Shannon

Group Captain U. Y. Shannon, DFC; RAF; born Wellington, 6 Dec 1905; joined RAF Feb 1930; commanded No. 30 Sqdn 1938–41; RAF Station, Gordan's Tree, Middle East, 1941; No. 10 Sqdn 1944–45; RAF Station, Full Sutton, 1945.

led a squadron of Blenheim fighters in defence of Alexandria and the Canal Zone, in protection of naval units and on escort to bomber aircraft; he had previously commanded this squadron when it was based in Iraq. Pilot Officers Ferguson,

Flying Officer M. S. Ferguson; born Devonport, 10 Jan 1916; joined RAF Feb 1938; killed on air operations, 1 Apr 1941.

Nicolson

Flying Officer R. H. Nicolson, m.i.d.; born Christchurch, 24 Apr 1918; clerk; joined RAF 16 May 1938; killed in flying accident, 10 May 1941.

and Walker

Flying Officer T. O. Walker, m.i.d.; born Rotorua, 27 Mar 1915; farmer; joined RAF Mar 1938; killed on air operations, 18 Mar 1941.

captained Blenheim bombers of No. 55 Squadron on many notable missions, including the successful raid on the airfield at El Adem, the main Italian air base in Cyrenaica, on the very first day of hostilities. Other prominent Blenheim bomber captains were Pilot Officers Buchanan

Flight Lieutenant L. B. Buchanan, DFC; born Palmerston North, 4 Nov 1917; joined RAF May 1938; killed on air operations, 13 Apr 1941.

and Campbell,

Flight Lieutenant R. D. Campbell; born Hamilton, 7 Jul 1919; joined RAFOct 1938; transferred RNZAFDec 1943; prisoner of war 7 Jan 1941; escaped Oct 1943.

who flew with No. 211 Squadron in attacks on enemy airfields and shipping.

In mid–August when RAF Blenheims made a spectacular and highly successful raid on Italian flying–boats in Menelaio Bay, New Zealanders captained five of the attacking aircraft. Squadron Leader Shannon and Pilot Officer Blackmore

Squadron Leader H. G. P. Blackmore; born Wellington, 15 Mar 1914; joined RAF May 1938; killed on air operations, 20 Oct 1941.

flew fighter Blenheims of No. 30 Squadron while Pilot Officers Walker, Ferguson and Nicolson captained bombers of No. 55 Squadron. The force flew overland to Sidi Barrani, where it turned out to sea and then continued to the target along the coast. Complete surprise was thus achieved and there was little opposition as No. 55 Squadron bombed from as low as 600 feet and machine-gunned targets on water and land; then as the bombers turned for home Shannon led his Blenheims down in low–flying attacks with front and rear machine guns. Altogether twelve enemy seaplanes were crippled or sunk; a fuel dump near the jetty was also set on fire and the flames spread to a nearby equipment store.

Flying Bombays with No. 216 Squadron in Egypt, Pilot Officers Bagnall

Wing Commander D. R. Bagnall, DSO, DFC, DFC (US); born Auckland, 23 Sep 1918; civil servant; joined RAF1939; commanded No. 40 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943–44; Air Staff, No. 28 Group, AEAF, 1944; Air Branch, SHAEF, 1944–45.

and Chisholm

Wing Commander R. T. Chisholm; born Dunedin, 2 Feb 1912; joined RAF 1936; transferred RNZAF Jul 1944; commanded No. 194 Sqdn, SEAC, 1944.

were among the pioneer transport pilots who carried VIPs and moved stores and personnel to various landing grounds; they also bombed Tobruk. Flying Officer Holdsworth,

Flying Officer C. W. Holdsworth; born Wellington, 20 Apr 1916; joined RAF Jul 1938; killed on air operations, 15 Jun 1941.

a Lysander pilot with No. 208 Army Co–operation Squadron, flew reconnaissance sorties for 7 Armoured Division and made many flights on photographic reconnaissances, artillery spotting and for counter-battery shoots.

From Alexandria Flying Officers Hughes

Wing Commander S. W. R. Hughes, OBE, AFC, DFC (Gk); born Devonport, 25 Oct 1914; joined RAF Jun 1938; commanded Sea Rescue Flight, Middle East, 1942; training staff, RAF Middle East, 1943–45.

and Milligan

Wing Commander D. N. Milligan, DFC; born Wellington, 19 Dec 1916; clerk; joined RAF 6 Dec 1937; killed on active service, 18 Jan 1944.

captained Sunderland flying boats of No. 230 Squadron on anti–submarine, reconnaissance and convoy escort patrols over the eastern Mediterranean. Towards the end of June, one crew from their squadron attacked and sank two Italian submarines, one of them in the Ionian Sea and the other between Crete and Sicily; on the latter occasion the pilot landed alongside the wreckage in a rough sea and picked up four survivors. About the same time another Sunderland on reconnaissance near Tobruk was attacked by four Italian fighters. It shot down one of them and drove off the others after a fifteen minutes' engagement. The flying-boat's fuel tanks were extensively holed but the leaks were plugged with plasticine. ‘I had to warn these enterprising captains,’ writes Longmore, ‘against trailing their coats too close to Italian fighter bases. Though the Sunderland's armament of ten machine guns was quite formidable we could not really afford the loss of even one Sunderland if it could be avoided nor could we afford, from the maintenance point of view, having them return after a self–sought encounter looking like pepper pots.’

From the Sudan Flight Lieutenant Magill,

Wing Commander G. R. Magill, OBE, DFC and bar, m.i.d.; born Te Aroha, Cambridge, 23 Jan 1915; electrical engineer; joined RAF 31 Aug 1936; commanded No. 180 Sqdn 1943; Operations Staff, No. 2 Group, 1943–45.

Pilot Officers Joel

Wing Commander L. J. Joel, DFC; RAF; born Dunedin, 3 Jan 1917; joined RAF Aug 1938; commanded No. 55 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943–44; Operations Staff, No. 38 Group, 1944–45.

and Mackenzie

Flying Officer M. Mackenzie; born Greenpark, 21 Nov 1913; farmer; joined RAF Jul 1938; killed on air operations, 27 May 1941.

flew Wellesley bombers in the most difficult operations against enemy airfields, camps and towns in Eritrea and Abyssinia. Magill, who flew with No. 47 Squadron from Erkowit, was later to be outstanding as a squadron commander and then in planning air operations with the Second Tactical Air Force in Europe. Joel, with No. 223 Squadron based at Summit, was to complete three operational tours in the Middle East and to command the well–known No. 55 Bomber Squadron. Mackenzie, who was with No. 14 Squadron at Port Sudan, did valuable work in convoy escort duties and anti–submarine patrols in the Red Sea in addition to his part in bombing operations.

From Aden, Flying Officer Young

Squadron Leader R. C. Young, DFC, m.i.d.; born Kakanui, 22 Oct 1913; joined RAF 6 Dec 1937; transferred RNZAF Jan 1944.

captained Blenheims on bombing missions to Eritrea and was particularly prominent during the Italian offensive against British Somaliland in August 1940. Flying Officers Barnitt,

Flying Officer H. M. F. Barnitt, DFC; born New Plymouth, 13 Jan 1918; joined RAF Jun 1938; killed on air operations, 20 Oct 1940.

Hutton

Flight Lieutenant C. R. Hutton; born Wellington, 28 Feb 1916; joined RAF Jul 1938; transferred RNZAF Jan 1944.

and Nelson

Squadron Leader A. W. Nelson; born Wellington, 18 Oct 1915; clerk; joined RAF Aug 1937.

also captained aircraft operating from Aden on convoy escort and reconnaissance over the Red Sea and its southern approaches. Barnitt several times fought off attacks by enemy bombers on ships in the approaches to Aden. During an early October patrol when three Italian aircraft approached the convoy, he sent one of them crashing into the sea and another limping away, belching clouds of smoke, in what the admiring and enthusiastic crew of an escort ship described as ‘a very gallant action’. A few days later, after a long patrol which included combat with an enemy bomber, he landed at Kamaran Island to refuel; whilst taking off again an engine failed and he was killed when his Blenheim crashed into a corner of a mosque. Barnitt had already been recommended for the award of the Distinguished Flying Cross and this was confirmed shortly after his death. He was the first New Zealander in the Middle East to be decorated for war service.

New Zealanders also held a variety of ground posts at this time. Wing Commander Mitchell

Wing Commander A. C. Mitchell; born Balcutha, 2 Nov 1904; joined RAF 25 May 1928; died on active service, 18 Sep 1940.

was Senior Air Staff Officer at Aden; Squadron Leader Richmond

Group Captain R. C. Richmond; RAF (retd); born Wellington, 14 Mar 1905; joined RAF 1930; permanent commission RAF 1935; signals duties, HQ Middle East, 1940–41; HQ Fighter Command, 1943–44; commanded No. 70 Wing, 1944; commanded RAF Station, Yatesbury, 1947–48; signals duties, No. 3 Group, 1948–49.

was on the signals staff of No. 252 Wing in Egypt; Squadron Leader Bennett

Squadron Leader R. J. Bennett; born Blenheim, 9 May 1908; joined RAF 1930; killed on air operations, 12 Apr 1941.

was an armament officer with No. 202 Group at Maaten Baggush, Squadron Leader J. S. Smith

Squadron Leader J. S. Smith; born Timaru, 30 Jan 1895; served RFC and RAF 1915–21; rejoined RAF Feb 1939.

was

Central and Eastern MediterraneanColour map showing airforce operations in the Central and Eastern Mediterranean in the operations room at Headquarters RAF, Middle East, and Squadron Leaders A. H.

Wing Commander A. H. Marsack, MBE, m.i.d.; born Parnell, Auckland, 6 Oct 1906; joined RAF 1930; permanent commission 1936; Special Intelligence, Middle East, 1939–44.

and D. H. Marsack

Group Captain D. H. Marsack; born Parnell, Auckland, 26 Feb 1909; joined RAF 1930; permanent commission 1936; Intell. and Admin. duties, Middle East, 1939–45.

were doing valuable work as intelligence officers. A small group of men from the Dominion were also serving in Iraq, notably at the important Flying Training School at Habbaniya; here Squadron Leader Nedwill

Squadron Leader R. J. C. Nedwill, AFC; born Christchurch, 2 Jun 1913; joined RAF 16 Mar 1934; killed on active service, 26 Mar 1941.

and Flying Officer Murdoch

Squadron Leader A. O'S. Murdoch; born Dunedin, 4 Jan 1916; salesman; joined RAF 25 Oct 1937; killed on air operations, 27 Apr 1944.

were among the flying instructors.

* * * * *

After three months of war the only major success the Italians could claim was the capture of British Somaliland.

Here the small British forces which had relied upon the co–operation of the French airfields and garrison in the neighbouring colony of Djibouti had been unable to hold out against a very superior Italian force. But they retreated with the utmost skill. Fighting all the way and supported by the RAF squadrons from Aden, they made good their withdrawal and under the protection of a few long–range Blenheim fighters were successfully taken off to Aden.

But on the ground they still held the advantage even though they had been slow to make use of it; and when at last, in mid–September, Graziani began his advance into Egypt, Wavell was forced to withdraw his troops from the frontier to prepared positions at Mersa Matruh. For about a week the Italian columns, constantly harassed by our ground and air forces, moved slowly forward until they reached Sidi Barrani, where they ground to a halt. They were still some sixty miles short of the main British defences but at the moment Graziani had no desire to advance further until he had built up supplies. A bold offensive a few weeks earlier might conceivably have overrun Egypt, but Italian strategy had succumbed to over–caution and the great opportunity was allowed to slip away.

For British reinforcements had now begun to reach the Middle East. Despite the German invasion threat to Britain, Churchill and his Cabinet had taken the bold decision to send some of their most precious material and reinforcements to the Mediterranean. With the arrival of an armoured brigade towards the end of September, Wavell was not only able to consolidate the defence of Egypt but also to contemplate a limited offensive. And as the weeks passed with Graziani still lingering over his preparations for further advance, Wavell went ahead with plans for a surprise attack. This, however, had to be delayed until the middle of December because the RAF, whose support he regarded as essential to success, had to send some of its best squadrons to help the Greeks in Albania. In the meantime ground operations were mainly confined to patrol activity by both sides. But even here the initiative now passed to the British.

Throughout the autumn the small RAF force in Egypt continued to strike at the enemy. Supply ports, lines of communication, landing grounds, military camps and dumps—all came under attack. British fighter pilots continued to keep their opponents on the defensive and when the Italians did attempt to retaliate they enjoyed singularly little success. One day at the end of October when fifteen S79s, escorted by eighteen Cr42s, made a determined effort to bomb our forward positions, they were intercepted by twelve Hurricanes and ten Gladiators and returned at least eight short. Again, in mid–November, when a Lysander and a Blenheim escorted by nine Hurricanes and six Gladiators were sent to photograph the Italian positions south of Sidi Barrani, a swarm of Cr42s rose to give combat; for over half an hour the British formation fought a lively engagement and then returned intact with seven enemy aircraft to its credit and all the required photographs— including some excellent pictures of the Italian anti–tank defences.

But these were difficult days for Middle East Air Command and Longmore had to keep juggling his small resources between the Western Desert, East Africa, the Red Sea and the Sudan, so that the Italians might not secure those advantages to which their vast numerical superiority entitled them. After Mussolini's attack on Greece in October, Longmore was obliged to draw upon his small force in Egypt to the extent of three squadrons of Blenheims and one of Gladiators. These units were to do splendid work in support of the hard–pressed Greeks

In the early stages the Italians had made some small progress into Greek territory, supported by Italian air attacks which the numerically inferior Greek Air Force was unable to check. However, with the arrival of British squadrons the situation changed to the advantage of the Greeks in their frontier operations. Blenheims attacked Valona and Sarande Bay, as well as aerodromes in Albania within reach; Wellingtons from Malta also bombed the Adriatic ports of Bari and Brindisi, whence reinforcements were going to Valona. By the third week in November the Greeks had captured Koritza and driven the Italians back across the frontier.

and their despatch was considered politically necessary at the time, but they could ill be spared if effective assistance was to be given to Wavell's forthcoming offensive from Egypt. Indeed, to keep his promise, Longmore had to strip Alexandria and the Canal of their defending squadrons and bring up a few others from Aden and the Sudan. Even these moves provided a British fighter force of only sixty–five aircraft when the offensive began.

A thin trickle of reinforcement aircraft—Blenheims, Hurricanes and the first Wellington bombers—had begun to arrive from Britain but it was months before the loss occasioned by the transfers to Greece was offset. For after the fall of France the strengthening of British air resources in the Middle East was no easy matter. Only the longer range machines could be flown out by way of Gibraltar and Malta, on which route their newly trained crews faced the hazards of the long night-flight south from Britain, the unpleasantly short runway at Gibraltar and the night landing and take–off from Malta. Aircraft of shorter range had to be shipped by sea, which involved the long time–consuming journey round the Cape. Fortunately, however, the possibility of shipping aircraft to West Africa and then flying them across to Egypt had already been explored and during the latter part of September 1940 a first flight of five Hurricanes, led and guided by a Blenheim, completed the 4000–mile journey from Takoradi, on the Gold Coast, via Kano and Khartoum, to Egypt.

The opening of this new reinforcement route held great promise which was to be amply fulfilled. But at first many months' work were needed before it was properly organised. Considerable workshops and accommodation had to be built at Takoradi and various refuelling and other facilities provided for along the way. The climate and the local malaria harassed the men erecting the crated aircraft. There was heavy wear on engines during the long flight over barren and sandy spaces. Weather and other troubles also hampered the air convoys. Early in December 1940, when the first six Hurricanes of No. 73 Squadron were on the fifth lap of their flight, the wireless of the guiding Blenheim failed, its crew lost their bearings and in the gathering darkness all seven machines were forced to land in the desert. Two Hurricanes crashed beyond repair, one of the pilots was killed, and the other four Hurricanes were all badly damaged. With such misadventures the number of aircraft unserviceable awaiting spares along the route soon piled up.

There were other inevitable causes of delay. When the Hurricanes reached Egypt they had to be stripped of their long–range tanks, overhauled and fitted with guns. Furthermore, when squadrons were moved to the Middle East their ground staffs and equipment had to travel by sea around the Cape, and on more than one occasion it was found that stores had been packed in cases which bore no distinctive marking. Because of all these various difficulties none of the aircraft supplied via Takoradi became available in 1940. Yet as Churchill remarks: ‘if the scheme had not been begun in good time the Army of the Nile and all its ventures could not have lived through the tragic events of 1941.’

New Zealand airmen took their share in blazing this air trail over four thousand miles of swamps, dense jungle, barren desert and varying climates. The pioneer flight to which the route owed its foundation had, in fact, been made by Sir Arthur Coningham fifteen years earlier, when as a young squadron leader he led three De Havilland aircraft on the double journey between Cairo and Kano, in Nigeria. Among

Aircraft Reinforcement Routes To The Middle East, 1941Black and white map showing short-range and long-range aircraft routes to the Middle East the pilots who flew some of the first reinforcement aircraft from Takoradi to Egypt were Flying Officers Milne,

Flight Lieutenant R. F. Milne; born Wellington, 11 Jul 1920; clerk; joined RAF 31 Oct 1938; killed on air operations, 15 Feb 1943.

Daniell

Squadron Leader R. D. Daniell, DFC, AFC, Flying Cross (Hol); born Hamilton, 29 Oct 1920; joined RNZAF Dec 1939; transferred RAF Jun 1940; retransferred RNZAF Jun 1945.

and Cotterill,

Flight Lieutenant G. W. Cotterill, DFC; born Hastings, 22 Apr 1916; commercial pilot; joined RAF Sep 1940; killed in flying accident, 8 Nov 1945.

while Pilot Officers Reid

Flight Lieutenant R. P. Reid; born Dunedin, 13 Jan 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF 4 Jun 1940.

and Williams

Flying Officer A. G. B. Williams; born Turakina, 19 Aug 1916; farmhand; joined RNZAF 4 Jun 1940; killed on air operations, 25 Jul 1942.

did good work as navigators in the leading Blenheims. No small contribution to the maintenance of the Takoradi route in its early days was made by Flying Officers Bagnall, Chisholm and Allcock

Wing Commander G. M. Allcock, DFC and bar; born Wellington, 14 Dec 1916; commercial pilot; joined RNZAF Nov 1938; transferred RAF Aug 1939; CGI No. 1651 Conversion Unit, 1942–43; No. 7 Sqdn, 1945.

of No. 216 Squadron, who flew Bombay transports along the route carrying stores and spare parts for the various staging posts.

Experienced pilots were soon chosen to lead formations and Flying Officer Milne in particular frequently performed this duty. These leaders were entirely responsible for the convoy and their difficulties were manifold. Aircraft frequently disappeared from formation and the leader, mindful of the slight margin of petrol they carried, had to decide whether to search for the missing machine or to continue. Radio-telephony, on which so much depended once a formation took to the air, often proved unserviceable and at staging posts the leader was often called upon to decide whether aircraft which had developed some defect should carry on or stay behind for repairs. Not the least of his problems in this period was that of accommodation at the various posts, where facilities for the weary crews left much to be desired; men often had to spend the night in billets with bug-infested beds and inadequate protection against mosquitoes.

Here is a description of the daily stages between Takoradi and Cairo provided by one of the pilots:

On the first day we left Takoradi with its red cliffs and steaming Gold Coast bush for Lagos, the first staging post in Nigeria, about 380 miles away. The formation coast-crawled to Accra, past steamy swamplands, native fishing villages and the 17th and 18th century Portuguese castles of the old slave traders. From Accra, we flew along about ten miles out to sea to avoid Vichy-French Dahomey and then inland again along the mangrove swamps to put down at Apapa, the airport of Lagos, built on what had once been swampland.

The second day the formation flew on to Kano, a distance of 525 miles. On leaving the lakes the track turned north-east and inland over threatening dense jungle which began to thin north of the river Niger. At last the red dust of Kano appeared, an antique walled city and a centuries old staging post for land traffic between the Sahara and the Congo.

The journey between Kano and El Geneina in the Sudan, a total of some 960 miles, was made in two stages on the third day. From Kano a heartening patch of advanced cultivation for some 30 miles was quickly succeeded by scrub and arid country until a convenient road from Kano could be followed into Maiduguri where the flight would put down for refuelling. Leaving Nigeria, course was set across French Equatorial Africa but here the Colonial Troops, unlike their compatriates of the Dahomey, had declared for the Free French and the airfield at Fort Lamy offered a valuable refuelling point and an emergency landing ground. On this stage Lake Fitri was a valuable pinpoint for navigators but could be somewhat disturbing in that, being mainly a mass of swamps, the outline shifted up to thirty miles between the wet and dry seasons. Now in the heart of Africa, the country became progressively more barren, more gruelling with only outcrops of rock to relieve the monotony. Finally Geneina was reached. Although situated on a large wadi crossing the route its sandy surface made it somewhat difficult to pick out from the air.

On the fourth day aircraft flew from Geneina to Khartoum in two stages, a short one of 190 miles and the other of 560 miles. From Geneina the country retained its desert characteristics with occasional patches of scrub and trees over the short hop to El Fasher where aircraft refuelled. Here in the Sudanese desert aircraft which made forced landings were extremely difficult to locate and the almost inevitable result for the crews was death from thirst. Accordingly the direct route was soon diverted for fighter aircraft to El Obeid where a temporary area of cultivation was found. Sandstorms were prevalent over the remaining 250 miles to Khartoum with consequent low visibility so that the aircraft's track was deflected to starboard until the Nile could be located and used as a leading line into Khartoum.

From Khartoum aircraft flew to Abu Sueir by covering 520 miles on the fifth day and some 500 miles on the sixth and last day. From Khartoum the route was comparatively easy. With a convenient refuelling point at Wadi Halfa crews had little to do but follow the magnificent course of the Nile above the Cataracts, Luxor, the Valley of Kings, until finally the great pyramids and the sprawling mass of Cairo, topped by the Citadel, came into sight.

As the Takoradi air route became firmly established, New Zealanders in company with their comrades from other parts of the Empire and from Allied nations continued the exacting task of ferrying aircraft across Africa. Unfortunately the hazards of flight across long stretches of inhospitable country, the vagaries of weather, the inexperience of some airmen and the difficulties of aircraft maintenance under extremely trying conditions all took their toll in lives. The causes of many accidents were never known–typical was the loss of Flying Officer Pettit

Flying Officer N. C. Pettit; born Wairoa, 25 Dec 1920; joined RNZAF 12 Sep 1939; transferred RAF Apr 1940; killed on air operations, 28 Aug 1941.

in late August 1941 when his aircraft was unable to maintain height and fell into the sea off Lagos. However, the fore- sightforesight of the route's originators, the devotion of its aircrews and the hard work of the ground staffs were to be amply repaid. By May 1943 over 5300 British and American aircraft of many types, including fighters, light bombers and transports, had been flown from Takoradi to the Middle East Command.

* * * * *

At dawn on 9 December 1940 Wavell struck at the Italian Army in the Western Desert. The attack took the enemy completely by surprise and within a few days not only Sidi Barrani but Sollum and Capuzzo were in our hands and the erstwhile invaders of Egypt were streaming back across its frontier. This success exceeded all expectations for Wavell had planned only a limited advance beyond Sidi Barrani. But the opportunities for exploitation which now presented themselves were seized with vigour. Sweeping forward into Cyrenaica, British forces under Lieutenant–General O'Connor proceeded to invest Bardia which, although strongly fortified and well placed for defence, was captured early in January with 40,000 prisoners. Then came further rapid advance to Tobruk, an Italian naval base and a main supply port. Here also there were good perimeter defences, but after a short delay caused by sandstorms these were speedily penetrated and the town fell on 21 January with something like 25,000 prisoners.

At this point further progress was gravely threatened by the British Cabinet's offer of troops and armoured forces to the Greeks. But fortunately the Greek Government was satisfied for the moment to face the Italians with its own meagre forces and such aid as could be given by the RAF. Wavell's army was thus left free to complete its rout of the Italians and this it proceeded to do in one of the most remarkable operations of the war. While 6 Australian and 7 Armoured Divisions thrust forward along the coastal road to seize Derna, Mechili and Benghazi, a small force cut directly across rocky and waterless country to reach the main highway to the south. The Italian force retreating from Benghazi, still 25,000 strong, was thus trapped, and after a brief but desperate effort to break out it surrendered. The British advance finally came to a halt on 6 February 1941 when its advanced guards reached the region of El Agheila

Months of disappointment and disaster were soon to follow and all that had been won in Cyrenaica was to be cast away in the vain effort to sustain Greece, but nothing can obscure the brilliance of this early campaign. Within two months a force never exceeding two divisions had advanced 600 miles over desert territory, utterly routed an Italian army of no fewer than ten divisions, and captured 130,000 prisoners, 1290 guns and 400 tanks at a cost to itself of barely 3000 casualties.

THE WESTERN DESERT, SHOWING PRINCIPAL AIRFIELDS Black and white map of main airfields and naval bases in Egypt

But this was not the only achievement of Wavell's Middle East Command during the early months of 1941. Simultaneously with the advance into Cyrenaica, attacks had been launched against the Italians in East Africa. From the Sudan British forces pushed into Eritrea where, after bitter fighting, they captured the great natural stronghold of Keren and swept on to Asmara and Massawa. Troops from Kenya also advanced into Italian Somaliland and Abyssinia, rapidly capturing enemy bases and airfields despite the difficult country over which they had to fight. So successful was the conduct of the whole campaign that within a few short months the Italians were to lose the whole of their East African possessions and most of Abyssinia. The menace of large enemy air and ground forces in the rear of Egypt was thus removed and British troops and air squadrons could be moved north, where they were urgently needed.

The RAF contributed much to the success of both these victories. In the Western Desert Collishaw's squadrons, by dispersing and subduing the opposing Italian air force, enabled Wavell's initial attack to achieve all the advantages of surprise. They then gave most valuable help in the opening stages of the battle by their reconnaissance, bombing and fighter patrols; highly effective attacks on enemy transport and airfields were made by low–flying Hurricanes, some of which made as many as four sorties a day.

Throughout the hectic weeks that followed both fighters and bombers constantly harassed the retreating enemy columns, preparing the way for and covering the advance of our ground forces at every stage. How greatly this air support helped to speed the Army's advance is shown by what happened at Tobruk. Here reconnaissance planes secured valuable photographs of enemy positions and minefields and the main air effort was then applied within a defended perimeter around the town. Combined air and naval bombardment during the two nights immediately before the ground assault softened the defences and in the final hours protracted bombing by Wellingtons covered the assembly of our tanks. At dawn on 21 January British tanks and Australian infantry moved forward under fighter cover and a creeping barrage. At the same time Blenheims, Lysanders and Hurricanes operated ahead of the troops to keep the threatened area clear of reinforcements. Quickly piercing the outer defences our forces poured through, and with the help of incessant air attacks the bulk of the artillery was soon established inside the perimeter. The intensity of the effort in the air may be judged from the fact that one squadron with only eight serviceable Blenheims flew thirty–two sorties during the day. By the evening the Australians had captured the escarpment which dominates the harbour and the next morning they entered the town.

The RAF also won a notable victory over the numerically superior Italian Air Force, with the important result that British troops were never seriously held up by enemy aircraft during their victorious sweep through Cyrenaica. From the outset the Italians were driven almost completely on the defensive by the aggressiveness of the small British fighter force, whose only really modern machines were some thirty-odd Hurricanes. Numerous attacks on airfields and landing grounds added to the enemy's difficulties and led to the virtual collapse of his air force in the later stages. When the airfields at El Adem, Gazala and Benina were captured they were found littered with the wreckage of Italian machines. Altogether 1100 enemy planes were counted shattered and abandoned all over the desert. Along with the aircraft wreckage were hundreds of enemy lorries smashed by air attack, while in Cyrenaican harbours lay thirty–five ships that had been destroyed or disabled from the air.

After the capture of Benghazi Lieutenant–General O'Connor addressed this special Order of the Day to Air Commodore Collishaw:

‘I wish,’ he wrote, ‘to record my very great appreciation of the wonderful work of the R.A.F. units under your command, whose determination and fine fighting qualities have made this campaign possible.

'Since the war began you have consistently attacked without intermission an enemy Air Force between five and ten times your strength dealing him blow after blow until finally he was driven out of the sky and out of Libya leaving hundreds of derelict aircraft on his aerodromes. In his recent retreat from Tobruk you gave his ground troops no rest, bombing their concentrations and carrying out low flying attacks on their transport columns.’

‘In addition you have co–operated to the full in carrying out our many requests for special bombardments, reconnaissances and protection against enemy air action and I should like to say how much all this has contributed to our success.’

Support for the campaign in East Africa followed a similar pattern. The country was difficult and most of the flying had to be done over hostile territory or against well–defended positions in single–engined aircraft. Nevertheless the British squadrons, with what General Platt politely terms ‘their variety of machines’, soon gained air superiority. ‘By a continuous forward policy they drove their opponents from the air and destroyed their machines on the ground; the army was indeed grateful for the immunity from hostile air attack thus gained.’ The RAF also did much to reduce enemy resistance on the ground by its frequent attacks on gun positions, forward defended localities and supply lines. ‘During the battle for Keren,’ says Platt, ‘determined enemy counter–attacks were broken up by the help of close support from the R.A.F.’ Meanwhile, ‘our long columns of transport continually on the road between Keren and Kassala, were never interfered with from the air.’ And so it continued as the East African campaign moved to its triumphant conclusion.

* * * * *

But the British run of success in North Africa was short–lived. For Hitler had decided that Germany must now intervene in the Middle East and this decision was to have an immediate and far–reaching effect on the course of events. Early in January 1941, in order to bolster his shaky ally, Hitler sent a strong contingent of the Luftwaffe to Sicily, and a few weeks later further air squadrons, together with the leading elements of an armoured corps under a young and able commander, Erwin Rommel, reached Tripoli.

Fearful for the safety of the Rumanian oilfields from air attack Hitler also ordered the preparation of plans for the occupation of the Balkans and the Aegean coast, including the Greek mainland. This new threat to their country thoroughly alarmed the Greeks and they now decided to accept the offer of help from the British Army which they had previously refused. Complicated discussions followed but it was finally decided in London that four British divisions, including two Australian and one New Zealand as agreed by their Governments, should be sent to Greece from Egypt. It was a decision fraught with grave consequences. For it meant that at the very moment when German forces were arriving in North Africa to reinforce the Italians, Wavell had to deplete his army in order to send the required help. Indeed it will long be a matter for controversy whether from the strategic point of view a serious error was not made in sending British forces to Greece and thus gravely weakening the Army in the Western Desert. But it was a higher strategy decision made primarily in the hope of building up a Balkan front and on the additional ground that if Britain had left Greece unsupported in her extremity she would have been shamed before the world.

For a more detailed account of the decision to assist Greece see W. G. McClymont, To Greece, Chap. 6.

Events now moved swiftly. At the end of March 1941 the Germans and Italians counter–attacked in Cyrenaica. The weak British forces covering Benghazi were taken more or less by surprise and forced to retreat. Rommel followed up with a series of rapid outflanking movements during which the single British armoured division was overrun and two British generals, Neame and O'Connor, fell into enemy hands. Within a fortnight the remnants of the British forces were back at Sollum. Tobruk was still held, however, for Wavell took the bold decision to leave a force there and keep it supplied by sea. Rommel's failure to capture Tobruk was to cost him a year of bitter fighting; meanwhile the ever–increasing difficulties of supply and the ceaseless toll of the desert robbed his advance of its momentum and the German and Italian columns came to rest on the borders of Egypt.

But this was only the beginning. On 6 April the Germans invaded Greece, where their strong armoured forces, with powerful air support, quickly broke through the vital Monastir Gap and were soon advancing rapidly southwards. The British Expeditionary Force, of which only about one half had arrived, did its best to support the Greeks in their heroic resistance but all was in vain. Within three weeks the Greeks were compelled to capitulate and the British troops had no alternative but to withdraw. Some two–thirds of the original force were skilfully evacuated during the last week of April, but 14,000 prisoners were taken by the Germans and the total loss was over 16,000 with all the heavy equipment.

The final scene of the Greek tragedy was played out in Crete where the part of the New Zealand Division evacuated to the island provided its principal defence. Here on 20 May, after heavy bombing attacks, the Germans began their airborne invasion, employing parachutists and great numbers of troop–carrying gliders. The defenders fought bravely and doggedly but the enemy, by determined and, at times, reckless employment of his forces in the air and on the ground, soon gained a firm foothold. His fighters and bombers subdued the anti-aircraft opposition and reinforcements began to arrive in strength. The loss of Maleme airfield on the first day proved fatal to the defence and within a week it was clear that Crete could no longer be held. Once again the evacuation proved more successful than could have been expected but the proportion saved was smaller than on the mainland.

German superiority in the air was largely responsible for their rapid success in each of these campaigns. In Greece and Crete it was indeed decisive. The Luftwaffe was now at the height of its power with a well-developed technique of co–operation with its ground forces and a highly efficient organisation for supply and replacement. Royal Air Force, Middle East, could match neither its strength nor its efficiency, for during these early months of 1941 British air power in this theatre reached its lowest ebb. Reinforcements were not yet arriving in sufficient quantity even to replace losses, while the earlier campaigns in North and East Africa had seriously reduced the number of operational aircraft with squadrons. Nor was it proving easy to keep serviceable the machines they had. This indeed was only possible by incorporating parts of damaged aircraft in other invalids whose cases were less advanced, a form of cannibalism which no air force can long survive. But such desperate expedients were imposed on Middle East Air Command by a situation in which there was far more to be done than aircraft with which to do it. And in these circumstances there was no hope of maintaining that degree of air superiority which had been largely attained against the Italians; in its absence our land forces were bound to suffer.

When the Germans and Italians launched their attack in Cyrenaica the RAF had only four squadrons left in the Western Desert—two of Hurricanes, one of Blenheim bombers and one with Lysanders for army reconnaissance—while the opposing air force included no fewer than 90 German Messerschmitts and 80 Stuka and Heinkel bombers. In Greece the disparity was much greater for the enemy had massed over 1000 aircraft, half of them fighters, whereas the RAF could muster barely 200, of which only about a third were fighters. Moreover when, after the successful winter campaign against the Italians in Greece and Albania, the RAF moved up to meet the German attack, it found the airfields it had to occupy were small and ill–equipped; there were no engineers to enlarge them or to provide dispersal or protection; there was no effective warning organisation and virtually no anti–aircraft defence.

Skill and gallantry could and did inflict heavy casualties on superior numbers in the air but were of little avail when the bases were defenceless. Over Crete the Germans, operating in large numbers at short range and from secure bases, had complete air supremacy in their hands, virtually without having to fight for it. For there were only three airfields on the island and the few British aircraft that occupied them were soon destroyed; the airfields in Cyrenaica from which fighters might have operated across the sea to Crete had been captured in Rommel's advance to the Egyptian frontier.

Altogether, in the face of the enemy's marked operational advantages and his great numerical superiority, the RAF could not possibly redress the adverse situation which quickly developed on the ground in each of these campaigns. Nevertheless its pilots and aircrews made most strenuous exertions to help our troops in their unequal struggle. During the retreat from Cyrenaica the four British squadrons were constantly in the air providing reconnaissance and cover for the Army. They also did their best to hamper the enemy's forward movement by attacking his supplies and concentrations of vehicles; the few Wellingtons based in Egypt also helped by bombing similar targets and, refuelling at Tobruk, they struck at Tripoli, the enemy's main supply port.

In Greece both fighter and bomber squadrons fought valiantly. In one early encounter twelve Hurricanes challenged thirty Messerschmitts and claimed five of them without loss. Again, during intensive air activity in the second week, Nos. 33 and 80 Squadrons reported the destruction of twenty–nine enemy machines. The bombers also took their toll of German armour and vehicles, as well as attacking targets behind his lines; but they were no match for the German fighters by day and on more than one occasion the whole of a small formation was wiped out.

A most gallant action was fought over Athens on 23 April 1941. That day the Germans came through the clear sky in mass formation of dive–bombers with a great ring of fighters circling over them. Watchers on the ground saw the whole British fighter force go up to meet them. It included fifteen Hurricanes in varying stages of disrepair assembled from three broken squadrons. In one long day of fighting these tattered aircraft and their weary pilots charged again and again into six times their number. Five of them were lost; but they brought down twenty–two, with eight more ‘probables’. It was a brave gesture. The few surviving fighters with their pilots then continued defiant to the end and they were able to give some cover to the evacuation before they left for Crete.

On Crete a handful of weary men and worn–out aircraft that had served their time in six months of hard fighting farther north faced odds of more than ten to one. Yet in the first six days of the German bombing they and the few reinforcements which reached them clawed down more than twenty of their opponents before they were overwhelmed. A brave effort was then made to provide some fighter cover over Crete from landing grounds some 300 miles away in the Western Desert. Blenheims and long–range Hurricanes carrying external fuel tanks operated at this extreme range and did succeed in destroying a number of German aircraft, especially at Maleme; but it was a costly endeavour for fighter after fighter was either destroyed on the ground at Crete, lost over the sea or else, with petrol exhausted, came down in the desert. Meanwhile RAF bombers were busy attacking the airfields in Greece and the Dodecanese from which the German fighters and troop–carriers were operating; they also dropped supplies to our troops fighting on Crete. But the number of fighter and bomber sorties that could be flown from distant bases was far too small to affect the issue.

The loss of Crete following on that of Cyrenaica and Greece led to much bitterness and the RAF was accused of having ‘let down’ the Army. In the streets of Cairo and in the prison camps of Germany and Italy RAF men were regarded with distinct disfavour, if not openly insulted. But their critics were ignorant of the circumstances of the time. The few squadrons of Middle East Air Command could not be everywhere at once; their bases had been unprotected and insecure and frequently lacked even the most elementary facilities. There was also ignorance of the fact, which even in the later years of the war some soldiers and sailors found difficult to grasp, that air operations were often in the nature of things conducted out of sight of those who benefited from them. Undoubtedly there had been mistakes but, on the whole, the RAF had fought hard and well and under most trying circumstances. At the end, many of its units had been reduced to three or four serviceable aircraft. One fighter squadron in the Western Desert lost three commanding officers within a fortnight. Another lost no fewer than ten crews in a single week–five of them in the valiant attempts to aid Crete and the other five during the fighting round Tobruk. These casualties are some measure of RAF effort and sacrifice during these months of disappointment and disaster.

Moreover, the air record is not one of complete failure and defeat. For in the same fortnight that Crete was lost the RAF undoubtedly saved Iraq with its oilfields and pipelines. It also helped in the next few weeks to achieve the successful occupation of Syria, by which a vital flank of the Middle East was sealed against German infiltration.

An outstanding feature of events in Iraq—according to Churchill it was ‘a prime factor in our success’—was the spirited defence of the air base at Habbaniya against greatly superior forces well equipped with artillery. Habbaniya was the home of No. 4 Flying Training School, where a small group of instructors and pupils had fewer than eighty aircraft at their disposal, most of them quite unsuitable for war operations. Nevertheless the base not only held out against the encircling forces but (with the help of a few Wellingtons from Shaibah) bombed and machine–gunned them so effectively that on the fifth day the enemy departed. By their gallant action the defenders of Habbaniya gained time for ground and air reinforcements to arrive and, within a fortnight, despite some belated intervention on the part of the Luftwaffe, Baghdad and its airfield were captured and resistance in Iraq ceased.

What happened at Habbaniya is vividly described by Philip Guedella in his Middle East, 1940–1942. Here is a shortened version of his account: Some 8000 Iraqi troops had assembled on the desert plateau which overlooks the airfield and their guns commanded the defenceless grey roofs at short range …. The threatened place had no means of replying to artillery bombardment except two vintage howitzers, a fragrant memory of the last war, appropriately relegated to decorative duties on the lawn outside the Aircraft Depot. These veterans had now been stripped, cleaned and overhauled for action; but there were no anti–aircraft guns and the Iraqi Air Force could muster about fifty first–line aircraft, including American bombers and some six Italian fighters, superior to anything at Habbaniya. Undaunted the defenders prepared for the worst. Training aircraft were fitted with unaccustomed bomb racks; a few time–expired Gladiators from the Western Desert were hastily rejuvenated and pupils were regaled in unexpected and extensive courses in rear gunnery and bomb aiming. Audaxes, normally capable of carrying 8 × 20 lb. bombs, were made ready to take the air with a load of 2 × 250 lb. bombs. Operations continued under heavy fire all the first day; the aircraft working from the main aerodromes, which lay within half a mile of the Iraqi guns, had ‘no time to linger.’ Starting up behind the hangars, they took off by opening their throttles inside the iron fence, dashing through the gate, racing across the aerodrome, and irrespective of the wind, making a steep climbing turn to miss the plateau; and when they returned a steep turn between hangars served to elude pom-pom fire followed (if they were lucky) by a landing, a sharp turn inside the gate and a quick run to safety round the corner of a hangar …. The days that followed were an indistinguishable nightmare. Work began half an hour before dawn and went on until after dark. Flying was continuous; and the women and children were evacuated by air, the transports taking off for Basra under cover of dive-bombing by the versatile Audaxes. They took to night flying, a disagreeable pastime, where no flare path could be used and a blind take–off was followed by a landing in the light of the aircraft's own landing lamp, hurriedly switched on when the altimeter registered a height of fifty feet and promptly switched off again on touching down. Their numbers dwindled and the toll of wounded pilots rose. The wastage of aircraft was formidable, only four out of twenty–seven Oxfords remaining serviceable after three days of fighting …. But a few Blenheims reached them; and ranging farther afield the little force attacked Iraqi aerodromes, destroying a number of aircraft on the ground; supplies intended for the enemy troops on the plateau were sedulously bombed on the way from Baghdad; and by 5 May the besiegers were beginning to taste all the pleasures of a siege themselves. The tables had been neatly turned and now Habbaniya went over to the offensive.

Throughout these fateful months of hard fighting many New Zealanders were in action as fighter and reconnaissance pilots and as captains and navigators of bomber aircraft. Flying Officers Bagnall and Chisholm were among those who did good work in bomber operations from Egypt. Both before and during the early stages of Wavell's advance they took their lumbering Bombays night after night over the ports of Benghazi and Tobruk. At that time it was important to interrupt the forward flow of Italian troops and supplies, particularly of tanks which were shipped between these ports to avoid the wear and tear of the long road journey to the front. For the long flight to Benghazi an additional petrol tank was fitted inside the fuselage of the Bombays and this tank had to be refilled during flight from forty 4–gallon petrol tins which, when empty, were kicked out into the night.

Flight Lieutenant Schrader,

Wing Commander G. L. M. Schrader; born Wellington, 11 Apr 1914; clerk; joined RAF 8 Jun 1936; killed on active service as result of road accident, 31 May 1943.

Flying Officer Milnes

Squadron Leader G. E. Milnes, m.i.d.; born Christchurch, 7 Nov 1913; joined RAF Sep 1939; killed in flying accident, 18 Jan 1943.

and Flying Officer Hogg

Squadron Leader R. J. K. Hogg, DSO, DFC, m.i.d.; born Milton, 9 Jun 1916; clerk; joined RAF 23 Dec 1938.

flew some of the first Wellington bombers which joined in the attack of ports and airfields behind the enemy lines. Later the Wellingtons flew to Tripoli to bomb troops and supplies there; a few of them also operated from airfields in Greece against Italian Adriatic ports; back in Egypt they bombed airfields from which German aircraft were operating over Greece and Crete.

Flying Officers Bullot,

Flying Officer F. R. Bullot; born New Plymouth, 27 Jun 1916; joined RAF Jun 1938; killed on air operations, 21 Jan 1941.

Ferguson, Nicolson and Walker operated over the Western Desert with No. 55 Blenheim Squadron. Throughout the advance and retreat this squadron worked particularly hard attacking enemy airfields and supply columns, as well as supporting the ground forces by bombing and reconnaissance. In one month the Blenheims flew forty–nine sorties by day and eighteen by night, principally over Crete to help the troops fighting there. Another 110 sorties were made on reconnaissance or bombing missions over the Western Desert. Brushes with enemy fighters became more frequent as German squadrons began to operate over the desert and the Blenheims that returned were often badly shot up. Not one of the four New Zealanders survived. Flying Officer Bullot was lost in January; Walker failed to return from a long reconnaissance to Tripoli in March and Ferguson and Nicolson were lost a few weeks later. Indeed such were the hazards of the early operations in the Middle East that barely half the men mentioned in this chapter survived the first two years.

Operating first from Egypt and then from Greece, Flight Lieutenant Buchanan and Flying Officer Campbell achieved a fine record of service as captains of Blenheim bombers with No. 211 Squadron. During the latter part of the campaign in Greece, Buchanan led his flight on eight sorties in eight days and received the award, rare in these early days, of the Distinguished Flying Cross. Flying Officer Fabian,

Squadron Leader A. J. M. Fabian; born Wellington, 23 Oct 1898; stores manager; joined RAF Nov 1940; transferred RAAF Jul 1941.

a New Zealand pilot of the First World War, also served in Greece on the operations staff of No. 211 Squadron.

Nearly all records of RAF operations in Greece were lost but here is one pilot's account of how No. 211 Squadron fared in the early stages:

When the Squadron moved to Greece, Fabian had the task of planning the layout of the camp in Paramythia, south of the Albanian frontier and almost midway between Yanina and the Island of Corfu. There was only the stony flower covered bed of the valley just south of the little village of Paramythia for Fabian to work on with sheer peaks rising on all sides. A solitary saloon car comprised the entire transport section and this was used to carry water, petrol, fetch rations or to bomb up aircraft. A tremendous ridge rose to 5,000 feet to the East. A mountain road followed the Kalamas River to the village of Yanina where was stationed No. 80 (Gladiator) Squadron. Communications were bad. There was one road to the north, and that narrow, and one single track railway.

No. 211 Squadron made a notable raid against the Italians on the morning of February 13. Three flights of Blenheims took off down wind—there was no other way to avoid the mountain barrier—and then flew across the Kalamas River and wound their way up the narrow valleys past Argyrokastron, ‘The Silver Fort,’ avoiding the fire of Italian anti–aircraft guns hidden in the mountain sides. After half–an–hour's flying time the formation was over the target, a mountain ridge north–west of Tepelene, where the enemy was mustering reinforcements. Here Buchanan's flight was attacked by Italian Macchi fighters; one of them was shot down by his turret gunner, not however before explosive bullets had hit the mainspar of one wing and the tail wheel had been shot away. Buchanan, however made a safe landing ….

During the evacuation of Greece the Blenheims flew out with men crammed into every available space, even the turrets. But neither Buchanan nor Campbell was able to take part. Early in January Campbell's aircraft was one of two Blenheims which failed to return from a raid on Valona. He was taken prisoner by the Italians but succeeded in making good his escape in October 1943. Buchanan lost his life while flying with a formation of six Blenheims to bomb Monastir in mid–April. Not one of these aircraft returned.

During the campaign in East Africa, Flight Lieutenant Magill and Flying Officer Joel were prominent as captains of Wellesley bombers operating against targets in Eritrea and Abyssinia; Magill commanded a detachment at an advanced base and led many sorties, including the notable raid on Dangila at the end of November 1940, which is said to have caused consternation among the seven enemy battalions stationed there. Flying Officer Mackenzie did good work in patrol and attack in the Red Sea area as a Blenheim pilot. He had one narrow escape when, flying to attack the Italians at Nefasit, one of his engines was hit in a brush with enemy fighters and he had to make a forced landing in wild country; fortunately his leader saw his predicament, landed successfully and picked him and his crew up.

Early in April 1941 Mackenzie and Joel both took part in the highly successful attack on five Italian destroyers that were attempting to escape from Massawa. Four of the warships were sunk or disabled while the fifth put back and scuttled herself in the port. On another patrol Mackenzie sighted and attacked an Italian submarine off Massawa; one bomb scored almost a direct hit, a second fell close alongside; nothing more was seen of the submarine.

Adventure and misadventure were frequent in these early days and were accepted as part of the day's work, but the story of Flying Officer Mackenzie and his navigator, Sergeant Fearn,

Flight Lieutenant M. B. Fearn, DFM; born Invercargill, 6 Apr 1919; clerk; joined RNZAF Jan 1940.

deserves to be recounted here. Flying Blenheim bombers, their squadron was operating over the Western Desert and as far as Crete. Returning from a sortie to Crete Mackenzie and his crew were unable to locate their base. The wireless had failed and, with their aircraft running short of petrol, they decided to bale out rather than risk a crash landing in the desert. All three men jumped safely, unaware they were over the Qattara Depression, some seventy miles south of El Daba. They had planned to meet at their burning aircraft, but it blew up on hitting the ground and there were no flames to guide them. So each man wandered alone.

During the following days searching aircraft scoured the desert and a Bombay, captained by Flying Officer Allcock, first sighted the crashed Blenheim on the third evening. ‘We looked for a spot to land,’ he says, ‘for in the Depression, the light colour is drift sands and you can only come down on the brown. We found no survivors by the Blenheim but a mile away there was a parachute; the cords were cut.’ On the sixth day Sergeant Fearn was found. He had covered about thirty miles of desert and had lived by ripping open his Mae West and filling it with rain–water. Badly bitten by mosquitoes, he received attention under the Bombay's wing before being flown to base. Allcock goes on: ‘In the afternoon I went out again and found the second member of the crew, the wireless-operator Sergeant McConnell.

Sergeant J. N. McConnell; born Gisborne, 5 Jan 1921; civil servant; joined RNZAF 22 Dec 1940; killed on air operations 15 Jun 1942.

When I saw him he was crawling too weak to stand. His chest was shrivelled. We doused him under the wing of our aircraft and the water disappeared on his skin like drips on a hot stove. He was also allowed a little water by mouth and some gentle feeding. The doctors said that he would have died the next day.’ The search for Mackenzie continued. Motor–cyclists were carried to the scene inside the Bombay and for three days they rode in ever widening circles from the crashed aircraft but he was never found.

New Zealand fighter pilots operated over all the battle areas. In Greece Squadron Leader Shannon led his squadron of Blenheim fighters; they had notable success against the Italians in the early stages but later suffered severely at the hands of German fighters. Flying Officer Blackmore was one of his pilots. Also prominent in the air fighting over Greece was Pilot Officer Westenra,

Squadron Leader D. F. Westenra, DFC and bar, m.i.d.; born Christchurch, 29 Apr 1918; farmer; joined RNZAF 16 Feb 1940; transferred RAF 11 Nov 1940; retransferred RNZAF 1 Jan 1944; commanded No. 93 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943–44, and No. 65 Sqdn, 1944.

who flew Gladiators and was one of the few pilots from his squadron who survived to cover the evacuation. He then operated from Crete, where he shot down a Messerschmitt 110 in the early stages of the German attack.

In the Western Desert Flying Officer Spence

Flying Officer D. J. Spence; born Christchurch, 26 Aug 1920; insurance company employee; joined RAF 12 Jun 1939; killed on air operations, 30 Apr 1941.

distinguished himself in fighter operations with No. 274 Hurricane Squadron. On one sortie during the retreat from Benghazi he shot down a Ju88 and an Me109 near Tobruk; two days later he sent another Me109 crashing into the desert, but during the combat he collided with the enemy fighter and was only just able to get his Hurricane back to the British lines. Like many others his luck failed a few weeks later when he was shot down while making a low-level attack on enemy columns between Gazala and Sollum.

Three New Zealand Hurricane pilots, Flying Officers Eiby

Flight Lieutenant W. T. Eiby; born Christchurch, 23 Nov 1914; clerk; joined RNZAF 20 Nov 1939.

and Lamb

Pilot Officer O. E. Lamb; born Auckland, 10 May 1917; joined RAF Aug 1939; killed on air operations, 14 Apr 1941.

and Sergeant Laing,

Flight Lieutenant R. I. Laing, DFC; born Wynyard, Tasmania, 11 Mar 1913; bank clerk; joined RNZAF 20 Nov 1939.

flew and fought through the early desert campaigns with No. 73 Squadron, already famous for its victories in the skies over Britain. These pilots and their comrades in No. 3 Australian Squadron did particularly fine work during the retreat from Benghazi. On 5 April when they combined to cover 2 Armoured Division moving back to Mechili, they claimed fourteen enemy machines destroyed for the loss of only two Hurricanes. Subsequently No. 73 Squadron remained to operate from within the perimeter defences of Tobruk, where its pilots worked hard to protect the beleaguered garrison and the ships bringing supplies. During 14 April, when more than ninety German fighters and bombers attacked the port, the squadron flew thirty-four sorties and claimed nine of the enemy along with a further two ‘probables’. Lamb was one of three pilots lost that day.

Sergeant Laing had two remarkable escapes. In mid-May his was the only one of six Hurricanes to reach Crete–two were shot down on the way by British warships and the others lost contact with the guiding Blenheim. Then before Laing could take off again his fighter was destroyed on the ground by German bombers. But he got back from Crete—squeezed into the cockpit of another Hurricane with its pilot using him as a cushion! A day or two later he was strafing a German landing ground in the desert and had set fire to two aircraft when, as he puts it, ‘a couple of Breda gun shells hit my radiator.’ Fumes poured into the cockpit and two Me109s were hot on his tail. One scored hits, the elevator controls started to ‘misbehave’ and the Hurrican began to lose height. Laing was skimming along the top of the cliffs trying to shake off the Germans when he saw the outer defences of Tobruk. But just as safety seemed within reach his Hurricane flattened out into a wadi and burst into flames, which were licking round his legs before he could clamber out. Thinking he was still in enemy territory he dragged himself to a cave, where he lay exhausted for several hours. But his luck held, for a party of British troops out on patrol found him and took him into Tobruk.

Flying Officer Tracey,

Flight Lieutenant O. V. Tracey, DFC; born Dunedin, 15 Mar 1915; storehand; joined RAF 8 Aug 1939; killed on air operations, 8 Dec 1941.

who had been with No. 79 Squadron during the Battle of Britain, flew long-range Hurricanes in fighter sweeps over Crete. On one occasion he had just shot down a Ju52 over Maleme when a Messerschmitt fastened on to his tail. Tracey dived towards the steep cliffs on the coast then pulled clear at the last moment, whereupon the German, over keen on the pursuit, crashed straight into the rocks below. Tracey's propeller had been damaged, his fuel tank holed and the fuselage ripped by cannon shells, but he succeeded in flying back the two hundred miles across the sea to Sidi Barrani, where he made a forced landing after a sortie of four and a half hours. ‘Quite a good effort’, says the squadron record with masterly understatement. Tracey was also among the fighter pilots to cover the evacuation from Crete, and on one occasion when German bombers were attacking ships he intercepted a Ju88 and shot it down into the sea.

New Zealanders also did good work during the brief campaigns in Iraq and Syria. Flight Lieutenant Murdoch was one of the flying instructors at Habbaniya who flew with the Oxford trainers and ancient Gordons and Audaxes which did so much to quell the initial ardour of the rebels. Flight Sergeant Lewis

Pilot Officer R. D. Lewis, DFM; born Salisbury, England, 22 Jul 1916; joined RAF Aug 1939; killed as result accidental mine explosion, 22 Jun 1942.

was bomb-aimer in one of four Blenheims which operated from Habbaniya; in just over three weeks he flew no fewer than twenty-four missions which included fighter patrols, reconnaissance, strafing and bombing attacks on enemy airfields. Flying Officers Anstey

Flight Lieutenant W. I. Anstey, DFC; born Timaru, 22 Mar 1919; farmer; joined RNZAF Nov 1938; transferred RAF Aug 1939; retransferred RNZAF Aug 1944.

and McArthur

Flight Lieutenant D. H. McArthur, DFC; born Warkworth, 15 Jul 1920; farmer; joined RAF 17 Jan 1940; killed on air operations, 4 May 1942.

were among the Wellington bomber pilots who operated from the RAF base at Shaibah against the Iraqi rebels. During one low-level attack on enemy artillery and motor vehicles, Anstey's Wellington was hit by anti-aircraft fire and he had to force-land at Habbaniya and then see his aircraft destroyed by the enemy artillery. McArthur made several effective attacks on concentrations of vehicles and on one sortie scored a direct hit on a group of tanks.

In Syria Flight Lieutenant Murdoch and Sergeant Jordan

Flight Lieutenant L. P. Jordan; born Blenheim, 31 May 1920; clerk and salesman; joined RNZAF 30 Feb 1940.

flew Gladiator fighters in support of 10 Indian Division and on offensive patrols against Vichy fighters. Flying Officer C. W. Holdsworth, who had done outstanding work in the Western Desert and Greece on Lysanders, now flew Hurricanes from Aqir in Palestine; he failed to return from a reconnaissance of the Damascus area in mid-June. Pilot Officer Peterson

Flying Officer K. S. Peterson, DFC; born Auckland, 28 Dec 1913; insurance clerk; joined RNZAF 13 Feb 1940; death presumed 5 Sep 1941.

won distinction for his work as bomb-aimer with Wellingtons of No. 37 Squadron operating from Shallufa in Egypt. In one attack on a fuel depot at Beirut he scored direct hits on several storage tanks, causing numerous fires and explosions. Pilot Officer Bourke

Pilot Officer L. P. Bourke; born Palmerston North, 16 May 1910; teacher; joined RNZAF Jul 1940; killed on air operations Nov 1941.

and Sergeant G. F. Jones,

Flight Lieutenant G. F. Jones; born Invercargill, 1 Mar 1912; clerk; joined RNZAF 2 Jul 1940.

who had previously flown on operations over Crete, also navigated Blenheim bombers on daylight raids over Syria. On one raid against an ammunition dump at Hammana they both survived a determined attack by French fighters in which three bombers were lost before the escort of Australian Tomahawks was able to engage the enemy and drive them off.

The record of these early months would be incomplete without reference to the men of the ‘flying-boat union’—the crews of the few Sunderland flying-boats based at Alexandria, who flew constantly on reconnaissance, escort and anti-submarine patrols, and who also did splendid work on transport missions and in evacuating men from Greece and Crete.

Five New Zealanders—Flight Lieutenants A. Frame,

Wing Commander A. Frame, DFC; born Oamaru, 6 Sep 1916; joined RAF Mar 1938; transferred RNZAF Jan 1944; commanded No. 204 Sqdn, West Africa, 1944–45.

H. L. M. Glover,

Squadron Leader H. L. M. Glover; born Dunedin, 2 Feb 1907; served RAF 1930–37; recalled RAF Nov 1940; released for duty BOAC 1942; appointed Senior Captain BOAC 1943.

S. W. R. Hughes, H. W. Lamond

Squadron Leader H. W. Lamond, DFC (Gk); born Kaukapakapa, 26 Aug 1915; joined RNZAF 4 Jan 1938; transferred RAF 15 Mar 1939; prisoner of war, Apr 1941.

and D. N. Milligan— captained Sunderlands in these various duties. Successes against enemy submarines were rare, although Milligan was credited with damaging one of them while making a sweep to cover a Fleet movement from Alexandria. The transport work was more interesting and eventful. For example, early in April Frame carried General Wavell and Air Chief Marshal Longmore from Egypt to Greece. For the return flight three days later, he had to take off from a harbour which had been mined by enemy bombers, but he solved the difficulty by taxi-ing up a strip of water and then taking off down the same path.

Frame evacuated more than two hundred men from Greece. On one flight he arrived at Nauplia Bay at dusk, had great difficulty in locating his passengers, and when dawn came found the bay enveloped in dense black smoke from burning ships. Undaunted, he took off through the swirling clouds of smoke and landed his passengers safely at Suda Bay in Crete.

Lamond made several similar trips. In a truly remarkable flight on 25 April he brought away no fewer than seventy-four men in one lift, which with the crew of ten as well was, as he remarks, ‘quite a number even for those days’. That same evening when he returned after dark the sea proved too calm for the aircraft's landing light to be effective and the Sunderland crashed and turned over. Only Lamond and three of his crew survived and they drifted about on the upturned wing of their aircraft for several hours before they were picked up. Lamond stayed with the two seriously injured members of his crew and was captured when the Germans overran the area.

* * * * *

The first year of war in the Middle East had been an exacting time in which the RAF had somehow contrived to make a limited force of aircraft face in all directions. In the early stages the British squadrons had achieved astonishing success against fantastic odds, sweeping an immeasurably stronger enemy out of the sky over three vast provinces in Libya, Eritrea and Abyssinia; and when war came to Greece they had done all that was possible. If their resources were insufficient to deny Greece and Cyrenaica to the Luftwaffe's simultaneous attacks, they were not to blame. Much had happened that could not be foreseen and the balance was not wholly unfavourable to British arms. Cyrenaica, Greece and Crete had been lost; but Egypt and Iraq had been saved, while Syria and almost the whole of East Africa had passed into our hands; Malta valiantly continued to resist all the assaults of the enemy. And now as substantial British reinforcements, new weapons and fresh supplies began pouring into Egypt, the stag was set for the next round in the struggle for control of the Mediterranean and the Middle East.

CHAPTER 3 Western Desert—The Second Year

WESTWARDS from the startling greenness of the irrigated strip on either side of the River Nile runs a vast desert of varying character, inhabited only by nomad Arabs living in tattered tents and herding camels beside the waterholes upon which their lives depend. To the south-east this desert runs down to the Sudan; to the south-west it joins the Sahara. Here and there along its northern coast are pockets of cultivation out of which the Italians wrought their Empire, settling colonists in well-designed community buildings around which were scattered the farms. The largest of these pockets, called the Gebel Akhdar, lies in the hump of land to the east of Benghazi, considerable enough to support half a dozen towns, settlements of the Italian colonists and one city. Such fertile country is not reached again until the oasis of Tripoli. Of this great desert—those parts that lie within the borders of Egypt and Libya are almost equal in area to India—it is the comparatively narrow coastal strip running from Alexandria in the east to Tripoli in the west that has come to be known as the ‘Western Desert’, and it was back and forth across its barren spaces that the main fighting in the Middle East now ebbed and flowed for two long years.

June 1941 found the RAF back at the old bases in Egypt from which it had started six months earlier; for Rommel's first offensive from the west had sent its squadrons scrambling back with the remnants of Wavell's Army of the Nile. But their situation in that region was less comfortable than it had been when they confronted the Italians, since a German army was now encamped on the stony plateau round Capuzzo; moreover the Luftwaffe was established in some strength at forward airfields in Cyrenaica and in the Dodecanese Islands, from where it could strike at RAF bases in Egypt, at the Suez Canal and the crowded cities of the Delta. To prevent such attack RAF bombers now made German fuel dumps and supplies their main objective and a welcome interlude of inactivity by hostile aircraft seemed to indicate success. Meanwhile fighters strafed the German airfields; they also made life uneasy for the enemy on the roads, systematically raking his thin-skinned vehicles until Rommel was driven to post isolated tanks, like anchored flakships, at five-mile intervals along the way.

Tobruk still held, a lonely island of resistance deep in enemy territory, and fighter patrols covered the small ships which crept along the coast to supply the garrison. An unsuccessful attempt had been made to relieve the port in mid-May. The following month a more elaborate attempt, adorned with the name of Operation BATTLEAXE, proceeded smoothly in its early stages. During this second attempt the RAF was required to provide the advancing land forces with an ‘umbrella’ against air attack. For army commanders, after their experience in Greece and Crete, had developed a strong preference for the reassuring sight of friendly aircraft overhead and the exercise of air power out of sight, though often infinitely more effective, tended to be out of mind for the troops below. The RAF complied with the requirements and its fighter force was duly concentrated on this defensive task to the detriment of more rewarding operations. Fortunately the bombers were still free to take the offensive and their attacks on the enemy's advancing columns and against his supply lines were most successful. And when, on 17 June, Rommel thrust an armoured force straight through towards Buqbuq, the bombers intervened effectively in support of our forward troops. These were able to withdraw in good order and General Wavell records that ‘the enemy tanks which were heavily attacked by bombers of the R.A.F. made only half-hearted attempts to close with our forces.’ After three days of confused fighting Operation BATTLEAXE ended where it began.

For each of the opposing armies, the British now under Auchinleck and the Germans and Italians under Rommel and Bastico, the immediate problem was the same—to reinforce and re-equip before a major attack could be launched. And here the governing factor was communications. On the British side the fact that the Luftwaffe now held virtual control of the Mediterranean meant that troops and supplies could reach Egypt only by the long sea journey round the Cape. The enemy also had their difficulties for their main base at Tripoli was 1000 miles away while Benghazi was 375 miles back along the same road; and both these ports were a further 400 miles from the mainland of Italy, across a passage exposed to attack from British aircraft and submarines based on Malta. Consequently the build-up on both sides proceeded slowly and there was a lull of nearly five months in the land fighting while they strove to overcome their supply problems and renew their strength for the next round.

But if there was a close season for fighting on the ground there was none overhead. The war in the air went on all the time—a fact it is as well to emphasise. Day after day RAF bomber crews left their bases in Egypt and, after a halt to refuel in the desert, went on to attack enemy shipping and supply dumps at Benghazi. Fighter pilots flew continually on a variety of patrols; they covered the forward troops and reconnoitred far behind the enemy lines; they guarded the skies of Egypt and escorted ships in the approaches to Alexandria and the Suez Canal. They also continued to play a vital part in sustaining the garrison at Tobruk by escorting supply ships to the limit of their range as far as Bardia. In so doing they depended upon forward landing grounds precariously held by light forces in advance of the main British Army, and the few fighters that could be maintained on patrol at any one time were in constant danger of attack by German squadrons operating from nearby desert bases in overwhelming strength; nevertheless the patrols continued and every ship that made the battered harbour of Tobruk owed much to the vigilance of the RAF. Simultaneously Blenheims, Sunderlands and Wellingtons were daily on patrol searching for enemy submarines over the eastern Mediterranean and in the heat of the Red Sea and Persian Gulf; and week by week ferry pilots continued to bring convoys of reinforcement aircraft across the jungle from West Africa.

While these various operations continued the RAF was steadily building up its strength. New and faster types of aircraft were reaching the operational squadrons: Tomahawk fighters to replace the veteran but now obsolete Gladiators; Maryland light bombers in exchange for the Blenheim. New airfields and landing grounds were also under construction in the Western Desert; more operational training units were being set up in the back areas and others expanded. Equally important, the whole system for supply, maintenance and repair was being thoroughly reorganised, enlarged and dispersed against enemy air attack. For example, in the Mokattam Hills on the east bank of the Nile, the great artificial caves from which in ancient days the stone had been taken to build the pyramids were cleared and equipped as stores and repair depots; and the inhabitants of the Boulac native quarter of Cairo were mystified by a sudden influx of RAF technicians as workshops were set up in old warehouses and in disused yards or buildings. A special unit was established for transporting crashed aircraft from the front for reconstruction at these depots; and up in the forward area there appeared new salvage sections which, equipped with mobile cranes and special trucks, ranged the desert to bring back damaged aircraft, and mobile repair units capable of making minor repairs on the spot or else of patching up aircraft sufficiently to enable them to be flown back for more extensive treatment.

Important changes were also made in the sphere of operations for it had become clear during the earlier campaigns that, in spite of the most valiant efforts on the part of aircrew and commanders alike, the operational efficiency of the front-line squadrons was not all that it might be; in particular the organisation on a ‘station’ basis, brought out from Britain, had proved unwieldy when it had been necessary to move units over long distances or push forward flights and squadrons to operate from advanced landing grounds. This was largely because transport, equipment and personnel for carrying out swift movement were lacking. Steps were therefore taken to create self-contained fighter and light-bomber wings each with its own vehicles, its own operational headquarters and its own servicing team, all of which could be moved rapidly from one area to another. At the same time mobile radar posts and air-support controls were established in the forward area, the latter an important innovation by which it was hoped to provide closer and more immediate help to the ground forces. In all these various ways, the RAF gradually began to create its ‘Desert Air Force’, capable of highly mobile operations in the wilderness of sand and stone but firmly based on a well-organised, safely dispersed system of supply and maintenance.

Much of the success of this reorganisation and indeed most of its inspiration came from Air Marshal,

Marshal of the Royal Air Force Lord Tedder, GCB, Legion of Merit (US), Legion of Honour (Fr), Order of Kutusov (USSR), Distinguished Service Medal (US), Order of the Crown with Palm (Bel), Order of George I (Gk), Croix de Guerre with Palm (Fr), Order of Orange Nassau (Hol); born Glenguin, Stirlingshire, 11 Jul 1890; served Colonial Service, Fiji, 1914; joined RFC 1916; permanent commission RAF 1919; Deputy Air Member, Development and Production, 1940; Deputy AOC-in-C, HQ Middle East, 1940–41; AOC-in-C, HQ Middle East, 1941–43; Air C-in-C, Deputy to General Eisenhower, 1944; Deputy Supreme Allied Commander, SHAEF Main (Air) 1944–45; CAS RAF, 1946–49; Chairman, Joint British Services Mission, Washington, and British representative on Standing Group Military Committee, NATO, 1950–51.

who had taken over from Longmore in May 1941. Tedder, a graduate of Magdalene College, Cambridge, and a fighter pilot of the First World War thrice mentioned in despatches, had come to the Middle East with a broad background in both operations and staff work. Here he was presented with a unique opportunity for defining, developing and organising the role that the air arm should play in the Mediterranean war. That opportunity he firmly grasped and he soon became pre-eminent as a strategist and in the framing of policy. He was also able to inspire the willing service of officers and airmen from the highest to the lowest and by skilful leadership weld them into a highly successful team. Apart from his undoubted military gifts, Tedder possessed a cheerful personality of which pleasant features were his addiction to a pipe of longish stem and to the ‘forage’ or field service cap—better known to the irreverent as the ‘fore-and-after’. He also had the happy knack of meeting his men on their own level, and many of those who served with the Desert Air Force can recall pleasant moments on desert airfields when their leader dropped in for a chat to see how things were going.

But the early months of Tedder's period of command were far from easy. Apart from the difficulties of reorganisation, he had to meet sharp criticism of the RAF from all sides and a renewal of the old cry for separate military and naval air components. With memories of Greece and Crete still rankling, many of the critics felt that the main function of the RAF should be to provide them with a constant impenetrable ‘umbrella’ overhead. They failed to realise that the only sure defence against enemy air attack was to win command of the air, and that this could best be done by offensive sweeps and attacks on airfields often far beyond the scene of the ground fighting.

The main controversy centred round the extent and control of air support for the Army. And after various conferences had failed to settle the matter, Churchill gave his ruling in a strongly worded directive. The RAF had its own dominant strategic role to play and must not, he said, ‘be frittered away in providing small umbrellas for the Army as it seemed to have been in the recent battle.’ It was unsound to distribute aircraft in this way and no air force could stand the application of such ‘a mischievous practice’. On the other hand the RAF had its obligations to the Army and, Churchill declared, ‘when a land battle is in prospect the Army Commander-in-Chief is to specify to the Air Officer Commander-in-Chief the targets and tasks he requires to be performed both in the preparatory attack and during the battle. It would be for the Air Officer Commanding to use his maximum force for these objectives in the manner most effective.’ These decisions were of the utmost importance for they recognised and defined the role of the RAF and prevented any attempt to follow the German pattern of complete subordination to the Army. It was now up to all parties to realise each other's problems and to work out a satisfactory system of team work. How well they achieved this, the following years were to demonstrate.

New Zealand participation in the various activities of Middle East Air Command was now increasing steadily as pilots, navigators, air gunners, wireless operators and some technicians arrived from the training schools in New Zealand, Canada and the United Kingdom. A small number of pilots and aircrew also came from operational commands in Britain, bringing with them the experience gained in fighter battles over England or in bombing raids over Germany. By the end of this second year of the campaign the New Zealand contingent with the RAF in the Middle East amounted to nearly 300 men, of whom the majority were pilots—no small contribution at a time when RAF Middle East was still comparatively small.

Among the new arrivals the outstanding personality was Air Vice-Marshal Arthur Coningham, who took over command of the Desert Air Force from Collishaw at the end of July 1941. Coningham, whose remarkable early career has already been recorded,

New Zealanders with the Royal Air Force, Vol. I, p. 10.

was to achieve outstanding success in this new role; indeed, it was not long before he outshone every other contemporary commander of tactical air forces in his ability to foresee, prepare for and meet situations and, above all, to give the ground forces the close air support they needed. His was a richly vital personality in which rare powers of leadership and a profound knowledge of air tactics were combined with an immense store of common humanity and friendliness, for he firmly believed that even in a war of machines the ultimate outcome depended on men. He had an alert mind but disliked paper work and insisted on stripping his Battle Headquarters to the barest minimum of essential operational staff; he was withal a shrewd planner with a strong desire for co-operation with the Army, and one of his first actions on appointment was to move his Desert Headquarters to Maaten Baggush alongside that of the Eighth Army. Thereafter when the Army headquarters moved the Air headquarters moved with it. And it was from that small advanced Desert Air Force headquarters working in close contact and mutual confidence with the Army that there originated most of the innovations in tactics and organisation of an air force in the field which were subsequently adopted by the Royal Air Force and United States Army Air Force.

At his new headquarters, Coningham was joined by Group Captain H.B. Russell as Senior Air Staff Officer. Russell, also a veteran New Zealand pilot of the First World War, was a specialist in fighter operations who had already served both in France and with Fighter Command in the Battle of Britain; he was to be twice mentioned in despatches for his work with the RAF in the Middle East during the next two years. One of Coningham's chief signals officers was Squadron Leader R. C. Richmond; he had been with the Desert Air Force from the outset and his ability and experience proved invaluable in this difficult period; Richmond later did good work in improving communications on the Takoradi ferry route.

An experienced fighter leader who came to the Middle East at this time was Wing Commander Eric Whitley,

Group Captain E. W. Whitley, DSO, DFC; RAF (retd); born Epsom, Auckland, 17 Aug 1908; joined RAF 1930; commanded No. 245 Sqdn 1939–40; RAF Station, Haifa, 1941; No. 234 Wing, Middle East, 1942; No. 209 and 210 Groups, Middle East, 1943; Fighter Leaders' School, 1944; No. 58 OTU 1945; RAF Station, Church Fenton, 1945.

who had commanded a squadron of Hurricanes both before and during the Battle of Britain. For his first few months in the Middle East Whitley was entrusted with planning the air defence of Cyprus and the Syrian coast; he then took command of a fighter wing based in Egypt and was later to prove highly successful as leader of a diversionary force which operated deep in the desert on the enemy's flank.

Three young New Zealand fighter pilots, Squadron Leaders Ward,

Squadron Leader D. H. Ward, DFC and bar; born Whangarei, 31 Jul 1917; joined RAF 31 May 1938; commanded No. 73 Sqdn, Middle East, 1941–42; killed on air operations, 17 Jun 1942.

Kain

Wing Commander D. Kain; born Wanganui, 16 Oct 1915; joined RAF 21 Oct 1935; transferred RNZAF 21 Oct 1944; commanded No. 229 Sqdn, Middle East and Malta, 1942; No. 127 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943; RAF Station, Edcu, 1943–44; and RAF Station, Predannack, 1944–45.

and Bary,

Wing Commander R. E. Bary, DSO, DFC; born New Plymouth, 9 Jun 1915; joined RAF Jan 1939; commanded No. 80 Sqdn 1943; Wing Leader, No. 239 Wing, MAAF, 1943–44; No. 244 Wing MAAF, 1944–45; killed on air operations, 12 Apr 1945.

each of whom had taken part in the air battles over France, Dunkirk and Britain, were now to command squadrons in the Desert Air Force. Ward took charge of the famous No. 73 Hurricane Squadron and within a matter of months had won both the Distinguished Flying Cross and bar. Kain, who had already led fighters in Britain, was to command No. 229 Squadron, also flying Hurricanes. Bary was to lead one of the first units equipped with Tomahawk fighters; he had previously flown Hurricane fighters over Crete and the Western Desert.

Men newly arrived in the Western Desert found conditions rather different from those they had enjoyed in their training schools or with the operational commands in Britain. For Desert Air Force now lived a more nomadic life, something like that of the bedouin who inhabited these parts. There were no tarmac runways, no hangars, no neat headquarters buildings or barracks, no control tower and no concreted petrol stores. The usual desert airfield was nothing but a large space of desert scraped smooth and hard, around the edges of which were scattered a few tents and trucks, the aircraft and the protecting RAF armoured cars. Large square marquees housed the various messes, the operations control and the orderly room. Around them were dispersed ridge tents and little bivouacs as sleeping quarters, each with its V-shaped slit trench handy as an air-raid shelter. The rest of the ‘outfit’ stood on wheels; the office of the Commanding Officer was a caravan trailer; signals, that life-blood of the whole force, operated from a few specially fitted vehicles beneath portable aerial masts; workshops of the engineers were fitted into lorries; the cookhouse itself was often a trailer with a field kitchen dumped outside. The whole camp, tents and all, could be bundled into trucks and be on its way within an hour.

Men dressed to suit these conditions and the blue uniform of the RAF was rarely seen. In summer everyone wore khaki shorts, shirt and an RAF cap; in winter the uniform was khaki battle dress, augmented by every sweater and jersey on which the wearer could lay his hands, so cold were the nights. In summer it was extremely hot and flies plagued everyone by day, but the cool of the evening was perfect, the nights silent and splendid under the brightest dome of stars and a big, round, almost ‘day-bright’ moon, which, however, lost a little of its fascination for it was usually as it waxed full that the landing grounds were bombed by the enemy. In winter the days were usually bright but the nights bitter, and sometimes there were torrential rains which bogged down aircraft and turned every rutted track into a morass through which truck drivers floundered and cursed.

The chief torment of the desert was of course the dust-storms. They came more frequently with the khamsin of the spring, a hot wind from the south with the strength to rip down a tent. Their density was that of a London fog, in which every particle was grit. Under the pall of a desert dust-storm the whole area darkened into half-night; a man driving a car could not see its bonnet and two men sitting in a creaking straining tent could barely discern each other across its width. While the dust-storm lasted unabated, bringing gritty misery, all flying was impossible.

But desert life had its compensations; for one thing, it was extremely healthy and with the exception of desert sores—small cuts festered for months when sand filtered into them—there was almost no sickness. Life was simple and the hours of sleep were long. The food might be only bully beef for weeks on end, though usually there was something else as well, but it sufficed. There was nearly always enough water for a cup of tea and even for a bath when one had learnt to bathe with a tin drinking mug. There were also the pleasures of contrast; and to arrive at the palm trees of the coastal wadi of Maaten Baggush after bumping all day over dust and hillock and there to strip and swim in the warm blue sea was a pleasure that had few comparisons.

Aircrew would consider it sentimental to speak of the comradeship of their desert camps, but in every squadron this was most marked. There were few who returned from the desert without some memory of a circle of men squatting outside the tent under the moon, one perhaps playing a violin or a mouth organ and the rest singing ‘There was a Monk of Great Renown’, ‘She'll be Coming Round the Mountain’ or ‘Shaibah Blues’, all with that mixture of sentiment and ribaldry which made up the folk music of the Air Force.

But many men came to know more than the desert encampments or even the vast expanse of brown wilderness moving constantly beneath their wings. Deserts have always been associated with one particular peril, that of being stranded in their midst without sufficient food or water; and it was a peril to which pilots and aircrews were especially exposed. Flying a damaged aircraft over inhabited country the pilot could make a crash landing or bale out, always with every hope of help even should he fall into enemy hands. But over the desert, even fifty miles from the coast, there was scant hope unless a man was sufficiently lucky to fall in with wandering Arab tribesmen. Yet, remarkable of the desert air war is not how many airmen lost their lives through landing many miles from help, but rather how many of them contrived to walk back to their squadrons, often piercing the enemy lines in order to do so.

One day towards the end of November 1941, six Blenheims left Fuka to bomb enemy tanks and transport on the Acroma– El Adem road. In that area they were attacked by a formation of Messerschmitts and four of the Blenheims were shot down. Navigator in one of them was twenty-year-old Sergeant Turton.

Flying Officer R. A. Turton; born Kakahi, 22 Dec 1920; cinema operator; joined RNZAF 12 Mar 1940; killed on air operations 3 Nov 1943.

Baling out of the burning aircraft, he landed safely to find that his pilot and air gunner had also survived but were both wounded and unable to walk far. While they were debating what to do some friendly natives came along and took charge of the wounded men, saying they would get them medical attention from the Germans in Acroma. Thereupon Turton, who was unharmed, decided that he would not be captured and set out to travel about one hundred miles on foot to the British lines. Fortunately he had a small pocket compass which enabled him to go steadily south-east. Every night he passed enemy encampments at frequent intervals but he skirted them and kept on. After three days he was suffering so severely from thirst that he was forced to live on snails. Eventually he was found by a South African medical officer. His journey across enemy territory, hiding by day and walking by night, had taken him six days, and during the whole of that time he was without food and water.

Gallant efforts like this led to the formation of a ‘Late Arrivals Club’, with its emblem, a tiny silver boot with wings, worn by those who had walked back ‘out of the blue’ after they had been obliged to abandon aircraft on the ground or in the air. And as the fighting ranged backwards and forwards over the desert, tales of getting back, sometimes through the enemy lines, became more plentiful. Usually they followed the same pattern: the airmen, individually or in a small group, struggling on through dust and heat towards the welcome of a friendly camp; perhaps a meeting with wandering Arabs who, traditionally hospitable to the stranger, helped British and German impartially; or else an encounter with the enemy, leading to capture or possibly a lucky escape; and finally the eventual return to the unit, footsore and exhausted, with sprouting beard and modest denials of any personal heroism. Yet the gallantry of those who managed to make their way back did much to hearten others who foresaw a similar fate in store for themselves; after all, one could never know whose turn it might be next. And in the months that followed many an airman was to have cause for gratitude to the Army for its rescue efforts—particularly to the men of the Long Range Desert Group.

* * * * *

Throughout the summer of 1941, while the two armies lay watching one another through the dusty glare along the line of the Egyptian frontier, air patrol and attack continued. For British fighter pilots the main task was still to cover the passage of ships to and from Tobruk, which placed a heavy strain on both men and machines; and this was now rendered more acute by the insistence of the Australian Government that their battle-worn troops should be withdrawn from Tobruk. The withdrawal took place during the months of August, September and October under cover of constant fighter patrols.

The provision of cover both for the supply of Tobruk and for naval movements inevitably restricted offensive operations, but whenever possible fighters were sent on armed reconnaissance over airfields, camps and roads behind the enemy front. Such sorties were welcomed by pilots as a relief from the monotonous shipping patrols. Flying Officer O. V. Tracey of No. 274 Hurricane Squadron, Flying Officer D. F. Westenra of No. 112 Tomahawk Squadron, and Flying Officer W. T. Eiby with Sergeants R. I. Laing and E. L. Joyce

Squadron Leader E. L. Joyce, DFM; born Hamilton, 17 Feb 1920; salesman; joined RNZAF 11 Mar 1940; commanded No. 73 Sqdn, Italy, 1943, and No. 122 Sqdn, 1944; killed on air operations, 18 Jun 1944.

of No. 73 Squadron, also flying Hurricanes, were among the pilots who took a prominent part in these missions.

Simultaneously the medium bombers were active both by day and by night against the enemy's supply lines, especially his nearer ports and coastal shipping. Airfields were also attacked—notably the day fighter bases at Gazala and Gambut, from which the Germans were operating their new and fast Messerschmitt 109F fighters. Squadron Leader H.G.P. Blackmore led No. 55 Blenheim Squadron on many such missions and flying with him were several New Zealand pilots and navigators. By day crews could usually count on a brush with the enemy but their machines were no match for the German fighters. It was during one such encounter towards the end of October that Blackmore was lost when his formation was intercepted while turning away after a successful attack on the airfield at Gambut.

More distant targets on the German supply lines were attacked by Wellington bombers, a small force of which, amounting to five squadrons, had now been built up in Egypt. New Zealand representation among these squadrons was relatively high. Indeed, in the twelve months from May 1941, just under one hundred Dominion airmen flew with the Wellingtons of No. 205 Group, as it was known; and more than half of them were captains of aircraft.

Sometimes the bombers struck northwards over the Mediterranean at targets in Greece and Crete, notably at the Corinth Canal, which provided a short cut for enemy supply ships on passage from Adriatic ports to the Aegean. But the chief task given the Wellington crews was to batter the enemy's North African supply port of Benghazi. They did this particular raid so often that it became known as the ‘Mail Run’. It was no easy flight. In distance it was roughly equivalent to bombing Munich from Norfolk. And while the route was not spattered with guns and searchlights a crew had only to crash-land fifty miles inland on the desert to be faced with the torments, often mortal, of thirst and heat. The defences of Benghazi itself were also fierce. Yet more than all these dangers, the chief menace of the mail run was its inevitability—night after night, week after week. One of the squadrons which flew constantly to Benghazi composed a song about it called ‘The Mail Run Melody’, which was sung to the tune ‘Clementine’. Here are some of the verses:

Down the flights each ruddy morning, Sitting waiting for a clue, Same old notice on the flight board, Maximum effort—Guess where to. Chorus: Seventy Squadron, Seventy Squadron, Though we say it with a sigh, We must do the ruddy Mail Run, Every night until we die. Out we go on to dispersal, To complete our Night Flying Test, Rumour says we're going Northwards, But we know we're going West. Take off from the Western Desert Fuka, 60 or 09 (Sixty or Oh-nine), Same old Wimpy, same old aircrew, Same old target, same old time. ‘Have you lost us Navigator?’ ‘Come up here and have a look’, ‘Someone's shot our starboard wing off’, ‘We're alright then, that's Tobruk’. Fifteen Wimpys on the target, Two forced landed in the drink, Another couple crashed on landing, Ruddy Hell, it makes you think. Snooping round the Western Desert, With the gravy running low, How I wish I could see Fuka, Through the dust storm down below. Trying to get your forty raids in, Thirty-nine, now don't get hit, If you don't, you go to Blighty, If you do, (Well, never mind!) Oh, to be in Piccadilly, Selling matches by the score, Then I shouldn't have to do that Ruddy Mail Run any more.

There is probably no better expression of all the hopes and fears of bomber aircrew than the words of this song; and on the nights when they were not flying, crews would sit around in their messes with glasses of thin local beer and sing it with an intensity of feeling that only desert life could lend to the voice. ‘We must do the ruddy mail run every night until we die.’ A good many of them did. But the hazards they took and the fatigue they endured made Benghazi of considerably less value to the enemy as a supply base. A New Zealand brigadier caught a glimpse of the port when he passed through as a captive in December 1941. ‘The harbour itself was in a mess,’ he writes. ‘The tide washed through two great gaps in the mole, and alongside the battered wharves were several wrecked ships, some capsized, some sitting on the bottom, rendering most of the jetties useless.’

Brigadier J. Hargest in Farewell Campo 12.

In these operations by Wellington bombers Flight Lieutenant Coleman

Squadron Leader L. W. Coleman, DFC and bar; born Wellington, 10 Dec 1916; joined RAF Jan 1939; killed on air operations, 11 Mar 1942.

and Flying Officer Cowan

Squadron Leader N. L. R. Cowan, DFC; born Hastings, 27 Dec 1919; accountant; joined RAF Jul 1940; transferred RNZAF Jul 1945.

of No. 148 Squadron, Flying Officer D. H. McArthur of No. 37 Squadron and Flying Officer W. I. Anstey of No. 70 Squadron achieved a fine record of service as captains of aircraft. Navigator Sergeant Connolly

Sergeant D. A. Connolly; born Christchurch, 14 Jun 1918; auctioneer; joined RNZAF Jun 1940; killed on air operations, 21 Jun 1941.

and Air Gunner Sergeants Callister,

Flying Officer J. K. Callister, DFM; born Dunedin, 9 Jun 1916; grocer; joined RNZAF Jun 1940.

Tarrant,

Warrant Officer R. M. Tarrant; born Hamilton, 5 Nov 1915; farm labourer; joined RNZAF 12 Mar 1940; killed in aircraft accident, 9 Jun 1944.

Marusich

Warrant Officer C. A. F. Marusich, DFM; born Huntly, 28 May 1921; civil servant; joined RNZAF 18 Dec 1939.

and Moore

Flight Lieutenant G. E. Moore, DFM; born Curlewis, Aust, 11 Jun 1915; engineer; joined RNZAF 20 Nov 1939.

also did very good work with their squadrons.

Flight Lieutenant Coleman was the first New Zealander to win a bar to the Distinguished Flying Cross for operations in the Middle East. ‘His courage and tenacity were outstanding,’ says the citation. ‘In one night raid his was the only aircraft from the squadron to locate the target—an enemy landing ground in the desert—and having found it he made determined attacks with bombs and machine-guns as a result of which at least two Junkers 52 on the ground were destroyed and others damaged.’ On landing back at Fuka after this sortie, Coleman was driving in a lorry from dispersal when a Wellington which was coming in to land crashed and burst into flames nearby; he immediately jumped out of the lorry, started up another aircraft nearby and, although bombs and petrol tanks were exploding in all directions, taxied it safely away from the danger area.

Flying Officer Anstey had completed forty-three bombing missions by August 1941; in the first fortnight of that month he flew four times to Benghazi to attack shipping there, made another two trips across the Mediterranean to the Corinth Canal and a further sortie to the Corinth Canal in between frequent trips to Benghazi; on one occasion when an engine failed he got his Wellington back and landed it skilfully behind our lines without injury to his crew.

McArthur, who also completed many bombing raids, had an unenviable experience after attacking Benghazi one night in June 1941. As he was turning for home flak hit one engine, causing a slow oil leak; he nursed his machine along fairly well over the sea but suddenly, when only about thirty miles from Mersa Matruh, the propeller flew off, tearing through the fuselage and cutting control lines. Forced to bring his machine down on the sea, he achieved a successful landing in spite of the darkness and, after a severe buffeting, the crew were able to take to the dinghy before the Wellington sank; but it was two days before they were spotted by a seaplane which landed and picked them up; by that time all were suffering badly from thirst and exhaustion.

Among the air gunners Sergeant Moore's record was typical. Including his early operations over Germany, he had by mid-1941 completed forty-six bombing missions. His ability as a gunner was demonstrated one night in June when three Italian fighters attacked his Wellington over Benghazi; by accurate fire he drove off the first two before they could do any damage; the third persisted, however, using its greater manoeuvreability to good effect, but in the end it too was fought off and shot down by Moore's determined shooting. An episode in which Sergeant Marusich showed great fortitude occurred in September: ‘During an attack on Derna airfield,’ says the official report, ‘he was badly wounded by shellfire and although suffering severely from pain and loss of blood he made light of his injuries, thus permitting his comrades to devote their attention to the work in hand.’

By the end of 1941 quite a large group of New Zealand pilots, navigators and air gunners were flying Wellingtons of No. 108 Squadron, which was formed at Shallufa in September. Flight Lieutenants D. R. Bagnall and K. F. Vare,

Wing Commander K. F. Vare, AFC; born Wellington, 20 Jan 1913; clerk; joined RAF 23 Aug 1937; killed on air operations, 2 Jan 1944.

Flying Officer Anderson

Flight Lieutenant J. R. Anderson, DFC and bar; born Lyttelton, 10 Sep 1916; electrical fitter; joined RNZAF Oct 1939; transferred RAF May 1940; retransferred RNZAF Jul 1944.

and Flight Sergeant Gray

Flying Officer W. H. Gray, DFM; born Wellington, 11 Jun 1916; draughtsman; joined RNZAF Jul 1940.

were especially prominent as captains of aircraft and Sergeant Curno

Flying Officer L. C. Curno, DFM; born Dunedin, 17 Nov 1911; mechanic; joined RNZAF Jul 1940.

as air gunner. Bagnall was now a veteran of bombing operations in the Middle East for he had flown Bombays in the first raids on Tobruk and Benghazi; he had also ferried men and equipment to Greece and on one such trip had his aircraft destroyed by enemy fighter attack on the airfield at Heraklion in Crete. Vare had taken a prominent part in the formation and establishment of his squadron at Shallufa, no easy task in those days of mobile operations and shortage of equipment. Subsequently he flew many sorties to Benghazi and in November 1941 led Wellingtons on the first occasion when two operations were flown on the same night. Later in mid-January he made a remarkable ‘proving flight’ in the first Liberator to reach the Middle East—at the time, aircraft spares were urgently needed by a squadron recently transferred to South-east Asia and Vare completed the 12,000-mile return flight from Egypt to Sumatra, stopping only to refuel at Karachi and at Bangalore.

Anderson had already completed twenty-seven raids with Bomber Command before he joined 108 Squadron. By May 1942 he had doubled this total with operations against ports and airfields in the Middle East. Here is his account of the way things went and of one particularly ‘shaky do’ as he calls it:

We were based at airfields in the Daba-Fuka area and the usual procedure was for us to have a preliminary briefing there in the morning, after which crews would fly their Wellingtons to an advanced landing ground some 200 miles forward in the desert. We were bombed up at base but made this flight with a small petrol load since it made take-off easier in the heat of the day. The advanced grounds were merely patches of desert levelled off and were quite difficult to locate in dust storms—especially L.G. 60 which was some distance from the coast but much favoured because its surface, being the bed of a dried lake, was fairly smooth. On arrival at the advanced base, one member of the crew was left to guard the aircraft and make certain that the tanks were filled and minor faults rectified. After briefing and a meal there was time for a short rest if take off was late, but the only resting place available was the aircraft and it was surprising how cold a Wellington could be out in the desert.

Taxying out for take off in the dark and swirling sand raised by other machines could be quite harrowing when the flarepath became obscured and other aircraft and obstructions not clearly definable. With take-off safely accomplished the flight to the target was usually uneventful, consisting of one long climb trying to get as much height as possible. Over Benghazi the flak was concentrated and pretty accurate—gunners and searchlight operators there had plenty of practice for there was rarely a night when no aircraft visited them. Bombing raids were seldom made above 12,000 feet as this was the best a Wellington IC could manage in the thin air even when stripped of all possible equipment. A typical mail run trip took about seven hours from the advanced base and on return there crews would be interrogated and then after a short rest until dawn their aircraft would be refuelled for the return to base.

We had a rather eventful trip one night towards the end of October while making our bombing run over Benghazi. We were caught in a searchlight cone and then hit several times by anti-aircraft fire. The fuselage was badly holed, hydraulic pipeline severed and the undercarriage fell down and bomb doors jammed open. The extra drag reduced our speed on the flight back and when we were about ten miles short of our advanced base one of the engines cut out owing to lack of petrol so I gave the order to bale out. Just after they had gone the other engine stopped and the aircraft began to go down in a glide. There was no time for me to leave the controls and clip on my parachute so I switched on the landing lamps, did up my straps and hoped for the best. Fortunately the ground was reasonably level and the Wellington ploughed along and made a fairly good landing.

This was anti-climax but a very pleasant one after my thoughts during the last few minutes. A moment later, to my surprise, the wireless operator and rear gunner popped their heads through the door from the rear cabin to join me in wiping away the perspiration. They had missed the order to bale out.

We rested until dawn and then leaving the two of my crew to guard the aircraft I walked north and found the road four miles away where a passing lorry gave me a lift to our advanced landing ground where two of the others had already arrived. We commandeered a truck and soon found both the aircraft and the other ‘caterpillars’.

The RAF assault against enemy ports and shipping helped our own forces to win the race to build up strength and supplies. By the middle of November 1941, Auchinleck was ready to attack. The main purpose of the new offensive, which was to be known as Operation CRUSADER, was to recapture Cyrenaica, destroying the enemy's armour in the process and then, if all went well, to continue the advance towards Tripoli; at the right moment the Tobruk garrison would make a violent sortie and join up with the advance. The opening moves were nicely timed to anticipate an attempt by Rommel to eliminate that troublesome British strongpoint inside his territory.

Coningham's squadrons of the Desert Air Force—they now included a formidable array of modern fighters, new and fast Boston light bombers and some Beaufighters for ground attack—were to play an important part both before and during CRUSADER. In the preliminary phase, the chain of bases between the enemy's back areas and his front lines were sedulously bombed while fighters maintained a high degree of activity to obstruct observation of our preparations. The extent to which they succeeded in blinding the enemy may be gauged from the fact that the subsequent ground attack achieved complete surprise— Rommel himself was in Rome when it began. Over the last few days before the land offensive opened, the RAF attack was switched from the enemy's supplies to his air forces; the landing grounds at Berka, Benina, Barce, Derna, Gambut, Gazala, Martuba and Tmimi were all bombed and a good deal of damage was done to repair shops, hangars, runways and aircraft on the ground. More and more reconnaissance sorties were made as the hour of attack drew close; sturdy Boston bombers now making their appearance were temporarily employed on this role. Another new note was seen in the adaptation of some fighters to carry bombs, notably the versatile Hurricane, which soon proved itself highly efficient in the fighter-bomber role.

Early on 18 November, after a night of storm and heavy rain, the Eighth Army surged forward. Overhead its troops saw a sky full of friendly aircraft— ‘whole shoals of fighters swept by, glinting like little silver splinters in the sun and bombers cruised steadily along with their fighter escorts fooling all around them’—which was indeed a novel spectacle for the watchers on the desert and so different from the grim days in Greece, when it had been almost second nature for them to dive for cover when anything flew overhead. But now the tables had been turned. This time some of the Luftwaffe's airfields were waterlogged, while at others facilities had been damaged or destroyed, so British fighters found few adversaries to fight in the sky and more aircraft to damage on the ground; a few combats took place over Martuba and some transport aircraft were shot down near Barce, but apart from this there was little opposition in the air. Later, as its landing grounds dried out, the Luftwaffe began to hit back and there were some spirited engagements. On the morning of the 20th, for example, two squadrons of Tomahawks (No. 112 RAF and No. 3 Australian) encountered a formation of Me110s and shot down four of them; later the same day Hurricanes met a number of Ju87 dive-bombers escorted by Me109s. They forced the Ju87s to jettison their bombs and in the mix-up which followed two Messerschmitts and four of the bombers were shot down for the loss of four British fighters.

Meanwhile on the ground the enemy had, after a hesitant start, reacted strongly and in violent actions between 19 and 23 November defeated the British armour and overrun a South African brigade. Thereupon Rommel, scenting a major victory, set out with his Afrika Korps and an Italian armoured division to the frontier, but in such breathless haste that the consternation he caused in an area of vulner- ablevulnerable dumps and airfields was almost matched by the disorganisation within his two panzer divisions. Heavy losses were also suffered in several actions with ground forces and from attacks by Desert Air Force; indeed, virtually unprotected by their own air force, the enemy columns soon experienced the pangs our troops had known and endured when it was the Luftwaffe that dominated the skies. After three days Rommel returned in haste to the Tobruk area, where the New Zealand Division had meantime pressed forward to join hands with the garrison there.

A major battle now developed at Sidi Rezegh and Belhamed as Rommel sought to destroy the New Zealand Division. He inflicted heavy losses and broke the Tobruk ‘corridor’, but the effort was too much for his troops and in the face of British reinforcements the enemy was in full but orderly retreat by 10 December. After a brief stand at Gazala this withdrawal continued and by Christmas British troops were in Benghazi once again. But this time the enemy retreat had not been turned into a rout and the hard core of his forces had not been destroyed. Somewhere to the east of El Agheila Rommel and his Afrika Korps were still at large.

The RAF continued to give full support to the land battle. Its activities left the Germans practically blinded in the air and wrought great destruction among the unarmoured transport and supply vehicles operating behind the German front; airfields, ports and dumps were bombed; and there was constant patrol and attack above the actual fighting area. Clashes with the Luftwaffe were frequent and at first the balance of casualties in air combat was fairly even; but after a few days it swung steadily in favour of the RAF, thanks largely to the skill and gallantry of its fighter pilots, for their machines were not equal in performance to the Messerschmitt 109F. There was a notable action on the last day of November when a Tomahawk wing intercepted some fifty enemy fighters and bombers that were preparing to attack the New Zealand Division. Our pilots shot down no fewer than fifteen of them and damaged ten others for the loss of three; and the Germans were forced to jettison their bombs instead of dropping them on our troops. ‘Your fellows have been simply magnificent,’ declared Freyberg. ‘My men are full of admiration and gratitude’; Auchinleck expressed his appreciation for ‘the magnificent co-operation of the R.A.F.’ which had supplied ‘a constant stream of valuable information’, while their fighters provided ‘almost complete protection’ and the bombers disorganised the enemy ‘often in answer to calls from my troops.’

During the pursuit across Cyrenaica Coningham's squadrons kept up their good work. Constant fighter patrols practically drove the Luftwaffe from the sky; and although sandstorms and the difficulty of distinguishing friend from foe reduced the scale of effort against ground targets, reconnaissance aircraft brought back evidence of ‘considerable confusion as far back as Benghazi’. Simultaneously Desert Air Force gave remarkable demonstrations of its new-found mobility. At Gazala 10,000 gallons of petrol arrived while the landing grounds were still under shellfire and for two hazardous days working parties plied their trade in advance of the front line; again at Mechili the advanced RAF party reached the landing ground as the last of the retreating enemy left in a cloud of dust and by the next day it had 15,000 gallons of fuel there—one day later four squadrons were operating from the landing ground and four more were refuelling for operations farther forward. Another example of the excellent work done by the ground staffs occurred when a party sent to prepare a landing ground deep in the desert far ahead of the Army had a runway of 1000 yards cleared as the first squadron landed, and had four squadrons suitably accommodated on the next day, with more coming in for fuel and a force of bombers standing by.

A novel and interesting feature of CRUSADER air operations, in which New Zealand airmen played a leading part, must be recorded here. This was the attack on Rommel's supply lines south of Benghazi by a small force of thirty-two Hurricanes and Blenheims sent to operate from bases in the heart of the Cyrenaican desert. Although almost completely isolated and with its landing grounds under frequent attack by enemy bombers, this small force accounted for several hundred enemy vehicles, including some petrol tankers; and it destroyed more than thirty enemy aircraft in the air and on the ground. Wing Commander Whitley was in charge of the two squadrons and the few RAF armoured cars which guarded their landing grounds. ‘For two months,’ says an official report, ‘he led this force with great determination in the face of all manner of difficulties and as well as planning its operations he led many of the Hurricane fighter sorties himself.’ Towards the end of November 1941 ‘Whitforce’, as it came to be known, was joined by Hurricanes of No. 73 Squadron commanded by Squadron Leader Ward. In the next few weeks Ward led a series of attacks on airfields and convoys in the El Agheila region, during which enemy machines were destroyed on the ground and damage done to airfield facilities; he also shot down two Ju88 bombers and damaged a Messerschmitt 110 during sweeps over the battle area.

New Zealand fighter pilots certainly saw plenty of action during CRUSADER. Squadron Leader Bary, for example, led his Tomahawk squadron in the first interception of what became known as ‘Stuka parties’—formations of Junkers 87 dive-bombers escorted by fighters. It was on the second day of the offensive that Bary's Tomahawks, in company with another squadron, intercepted an enemy formation over the desert and after a spirited engagement scattered them, claiming two Ju87s destroyed with two fighters and another dive-bomber probably destroyed. A week later Bary led his pilots in another fierce engagement against some twenty Ju88 bombers escorted by Messerschmitt 109s and Italian G50 fighters; they claimed three fighters and one bomber destroyed, together with six probables, for the loss of only two Tomahawks.

Flight Lieutenant Strachan

Squadron Leader I. D. S. Strachan; born Christchurch, 20 May 1917; clerk; joined RAF 27 Sep 1937; commanded 65 Sqdn 1944–45; killed on air operations, 29 Jan 1945.

frequently led Hurricane fighter-bombers against the enemy columns streaming back along the coast road and across the desert. A typical mission was flown on 8 December to attack convoys moving from Acroma to the coast road. The Hurricanes found and bombed their target and then six of them swept down with machine guns blazing to set more lorries on fire and damage others; meanwhile the other six Hurricanes circled above as top cover and beat off an attack by enemy fighters, destroying two of them without loss. Another outstanding Hurricane pilot was Flying Officer Tracey, who had already destroyed eight enemy machines before CRUSADER began. Early in December he led part of a two-squadron escort to Blenheims bombing enemy concentrations west of El Adem. In that area the Hurricane met some twenty Messerschmitts and in the battle which followed destroyed three of them. During the battle Tracey saw one of his fellow pilots bale out, so he circled the descending parachute and then landed alongside a surprised South African, squeezed him into his cockpit and took off back to base.

Flying Tomahawk fighters, Flight Lieutenant Westenra was prominent with No. 112 Squadron, which operated intensively in support of the Army and on sweeps over enemy airfields. On one patrol early in December Westenra shot down two Italian G50s while escorting Blenheims to bomb enemy columns on the Capuzzo road; shortly afterwards he led his squadron in a very successful strike against the German airfield at Magrun, where at least fifteen German and Italian machines were either destroyed or damaged on the ground. Three other pilots who saw action with Westenra's squadron were Sergeants Hoare,

Flight Sergeant B. P. Hoare; born Hawera, 3 Sep 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF Nov 1940; killed on operations, 8 Feb 1942.

Glasgow

Sergeant F. D. Glasgow; born Edinburgh, 16 Nov 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF9 Jul 1940; killed on air operations, 25 Nov 1941.

and Houston.

Sergeant W. E. Houston; born Hastings, 7 May 1922; clerk; joined RNZAFJul 1940; killed on air operations, 12 Dec 1941.

Flying Officers Hammond,

Wing Commander D. H. Hammond, DSO, DFC and bar; born Christchurch, 14 Mar 1916; bank clerk; joined RNZAFJun 1940; commanded No. 489 (NZ) Sqdn 1945.

Watters

Squadron Leader J. Watters; born Waikino, 4 Feb 1916; civil engineer; joined RNZAF20 Sep 1939; transferred RAF9 Jul 1940; retransferred RNZAF11 Jul 1945.

and Crawford

Flying Officer H. H. Crawford; born New Plymouth, 25 Aug 1916; clerk; joined RNZAFOct 1939; killed on air operations, 6 Feb 1942.

flew some of the first Beaufighters to operate over the Western Desert. They were members of No. 272 Squadron which had moved forward into the desert shortly before CRUSADER began; previously it had been engaged on long-range convoy patrols. With their formidable armament of four cannon and six machine guns, the Beaufighters were particularly suitable for ground attack and they rapidly proved a new power in the desert. And since their operations were partly planned and partly free-lance, they began a remarkable kind of aerial buccaneering which was rich in incident.

In one sortie, Hammond and his navigator were sweeping low over Tmimi airfield when their aircraft struck a telegraph pole, tearing off part of the wing, and it was only by desperately pushing the aileron control hard over that Hammond just managed to lift the damaged wing and keep on a level course. But he had not the strength to hold on for long, so he called his navigator forward and together they contrived to manage the controls and bring the aircraft safely to its base over 400 miles away—a remarkable feat of flying.

Watters was with the formation of six Beaufighters which, one day in mid-November, arrived over Tmimi airfield just as five Ju52 transports had taken off; the British pilots shot down all five of them and then went on to set four more aircraft on fire on the ground; shortly afterwards they intercepted and shot down two more German reconnaissance machines and finally, before setting course for base, shot up a column of enemy troops.

Crawford, who flew in many attacks against enemy airfields, had a remarkable adventure towards the end of December. After being shot down over the desert, he was captured by the Germans but succeeded in making his escape just before dawn two days later. Unfortunately, in his first headlong rush through the darkness he fell and injured his foot; he was soon unable to walk at all and might well have perished had he not met some wandering bedouin, who looked after him for several days and then helped him to reach a British forward unit at Barce. Crawford returned to his squadron only to lose his life a few weeks later when his Beaufighter was hit by flak during a low-level attack on enemy vehicles near Martuba; he made a gallant attempt to land his machine on the desert but the ground proved too rough and it crashed and caught fire.

Transport pilots also did work during CRUSADER by carrying forward urgent supplies and evacuating casualties. Flying Officer Chisholm was prominent in these duties as captain of a Dakota aircraft of No. 117 Squadron. At the height of the battle he helped to answer an urgent call for ammunition from British tanks near Sidi Rezegh. When the call came, ships carrying the ammunition had only reached Port Sudan in the Red Sea, so the Dakotas flew a shuttle service from that port to a landing ground near the scene of the fighting. The Dakotas continued to fly up ammunition and spares for several weeks and undoubtedly made an important contribution at a critical point in the battle.

Missions of a more unusual kind were flown during CRUSADER by Pilot Officer T. J. W. Williams,

Flight Lieutenant T. J. W. Williams, DFC and bar; born Napier, 21 Aug 1915; sheep farmer; joined RNZAF 2 Jul 1940.

a New Zealand bomber captain. He took part in the attempt that was made to interfere with enemy inter-tank radio communication from the air. For this novel experiment six specially-equipped Wellington aircraft had been flown out from the United Kingdom and, because of the lively interest displayed by the British Prime Minister in the project, they came to be known as ‘Winston's Wellingtons’. Unfortunately this first attempt does not appear to have met with any notable success. For one thing the Wellington aircraft themselves, flying low over the battle area, proved highly vulnerable. One night towards the end of November 1941, when Williams was on patrol over the enemy lines, his aircraft was attacked by several fighters and badly hit; the front turret was put out of action, the wireless transmitter damaged and the hydraulic tank holed. The leaking tank was plugged with rags and the wireless operator stood by holding them in place, thus enabling Williams to complete his patrol and return to base. After two of the six Wellingtons had been shot down and all the others damaged the jamming patrols over the battle area were temporarily withdrawn; but experiments with radio counter-measures, in which both Pilot Officer Williams and Sergeant Russell

Flight Lieutenant A. G. Russell; born Milton, Otago, 15 Dec 1918; clerical cadet; joined RNZAF 4 Jun 1940.

took part, continued and they resulted in more effective action during the Alamein battles.

* * * * *

The first days of 1942 found the RAF established on forward airfields in the vicinity of Benghazi while advanced guards of the Eighth Army had reached El Agheila. They were now halfway to Tripoli and, given time to renew their strength, they might well press on to that region and end the war in Africa. But this was not to be. Just as a year previously Wavell's further advance had been prevented by the call to Greece, so now progress was again halted by the urgent need to defend the Far East against Japan's attack. As far as the RAF was concerned whole squadrons, maintenance units and equipment of various kinds were now transferred or else diverted from the Middle East to destinations in South-east Asia. The Army suffered similar deprivation and for both Auchinleck and Tedder the next few months were to prove a most trying and frustrating period. Already the advance to the Tripolitanian frontier had placed a considerable strain on the British supply system, for the port of Benghazi had not yet been opened and it was a thousand miles back to Cairo and Suez. Rommel, on the other hand, had now come within easier reach of his bases as a result of his retreat and, under cover of heavy air assault on Malta, was receiving substantial reinforcement by way of Tripoli.

Suddenly, towards the end of January, Rommel struck back. Leaving his main force of armour halted and largely discarding air support because it would take time to bring up all the petrol they would require, he sent infantry in lorries racing across the hill country of the Gebel Akhdar in an outflanking movement from the north. The British forces, caught unawares and in the midst of supply difficulties, were forced to give ground. It was typical of Rommel that he should make such a sudden surprise move, setting out eastwards again, so it is said, with only a few days' rations in hand and less than a hundred tanks; similarly that, having achieved initial success, he should continue his advance with bold unorthodoxy. And his action in dispensing with air support seemed justified at first for the weather just then was a formidable alternation of driving rain and sandstorms; but as the skies cleared his columns were to suffer severely from lack of such protection.

During the opening stages of the enemy attack Desert Air Force had to contend with waterlogged airfields and the difficulties of moving back; its forward positions had been insecurely held and when the military screen in front of it collapsed abruptly, the main fighter force at Antelat received only the briefest warning of the enemy's approach. It was no simple matter to evacuate eight squadrons at short notice from a sodden landing ground; but with six men under each wing, the Kittyhawks and Hurricanes were moved on to the single strip and the last of them took off as shells began dropping on the airfield; six unserviceable machines had to be left behind, but the whole move compared favourably with the large numbers of aircraft abandoned by the Luftwaffe in its retreat a few weeks earlier.

It was not long before our fighters were operating strongly again, attacking the advancing enemy and regaining air superiority over the forward area; some Hurricanes encountering a force of dive-bombers, just as their own petrol was running low, disposed of them and then forced-landed safely with dry tanks. Boston and Maryland light bombers joined in the daylight attack and by night Wellingtons operating from advanced landing grounds bombed concentrations of lorries in the enemy's rear. Tomahawks, Kittyhawks and Hurricanes harassed the enemy continually as he pressed forward along the desert tracks and on one day claimed 120 lorries destroyed. All these operations were flown despite frequent sandstorms.

As Rommel continued his advance the fighter squadrons were compelled to move back once more; at Benina they took off only as the enemy approached, and again they left little behind. But by the beginning of February, Rommel had outrun his supplies and his columns, lacking the weight to press home their advance, were finally halted. Their advance, which had begun so brilliantly, petered out from a combination of resistance on the ground, resistance in the air and lack of petrol and supplies. By the middle of February stability had returned to the war in the desert, with the Eighth Army firmly holding a line from Gazala to Bir Hacheim. A lull of some three months in the ground fighting now followed, during which the opponents sought once again to build up their strength.

Although this final outcome of CRUSADER was somewhat disappointing, the campaign had nevertheless produced substantial dividends. Our front line, even after the retreat, was still well to the west of the Egyptian frontier instead of along it, so that the airfields of eastern Cyrenaica were now in our hands. Tobruk, which had been a tremendous strain on our resources while besieged, had been relieved and, what was even more important, the temporary possession of airfields to the west had enabled convoys to be run through to help Malta. In the desert, new methods of tactical support had been tried out, and while still capable of improvement, they were a great advance on anything that had gone before. The scheme of mobile wings had proved a triumphant success, enabling Coningham's squadrons to keep up with every movement in a campaign of extraordinary fluidity. The new maintenance organisation had also proved its worth; in four months its units had received 1035 damaged aircraft—brought in from points scattered all over the desert—and during the same period had repaired and delivered back 810 of these machines to the battle area. Altogether the men of the Desert Air Forces could feel a justifiable pride at their achievements. Between mid-November 1941, when the Eighth Army went into action, and mid-February 1942 when the position stabilised at Gazala, they had flown well over 10,000 sorties and destroyed some five hundred German and Italian machines in the air and on the ground. Gaining command of the air, they had protected our troops, safeguarded our ships, defended Suez and Alexandria and seriously mauled the enemy's ground forces.

And now, during the interval in the ground fighting, they continued with patrol and attack. Night fighters fought defensive combats over Egypt, Bostons assiduously bombed the chain of enemy airfields from Tmimi to Benghazi and fighter-bombers attacked transport on the roads. Wellingtons continued to fly night after night on the ‘mail run’ to Benghazi—the port was bombed on no fewer than sixty-nine occasions during the spring of 1942—and seriously hampered the unloading of German supplies. Patrols over our forward positions were maintained daily while reconnaissance over the eastern Mediterranean, in search of enemy ships and in protection of our own, was constant.

The enemy air forces were almost equally active. They raided Tobruk and the forward areas, made sporadic attacks on Alexandria and the Canal and ran a special supply service from Greece and Crete to Derna. They also kept up patrols to hold off our attacks. Their effort against Egypt was, however, limited by the fact that the main preoccupation of the Luftwaffe bombers during these months was the assault against Malta from Sicily.

And while these operations continued Desert Air Force completed the reorganisation begun by Tedder in the previous year. The fighter squadrons were now placed under separate operational control; this was organised on the ‘leapfrog’ principle with two identical operations rooms, one forward and one rear, which under fluid conditions could act in the same way as squadron forward and rear parties and so maintain continuity of operations in spite of frequent moves. Simultaneously the principles of air support were defined more clearly for the benefit of air and ground forces alike, and in order to overcome the vexed problem of identification of ground targets agreement was finally reached on the marking of all British vehicles with the RAF roundel. The maintenance and repair organisations were further developed and expanded while airfield construction was pushed ahead and facilities improved. By May 1942, Coningham's Desert Air Force, although somewhat depleted by withdrawals to the Far East, was thus well prepared to support a ground offensive by the Eighth Army. Unfortunately, however, it was not called upon to do so; for it was the enemy who struck first.

Rommel opened his attack on 26 May with an outflanking movement in the familiar manner. This time the main weight of his armour drove south, passed round Bir Hacheim and then pushed north towards the main British position at the desert crossroads known as ‘Knightsbridge’. A fierce armoured battle developed in this region, soon to be nicknamed ‘The Cauldron’. Meanwhile the enemy cut gaps through the minefields of the main British line in order to provide himself with a shorter supply route than that round the southern flank. It was not long before the ‘Cauldron’ was boiling over.

From the outset Coningham's squadrons were active both in close support of the Eighth Army and in air battles with the Luftwaffe. The first day they broke up several heavily escorted raids by Stukas and claimed a good bag of enemy aircraft; thereafter they concentrated against the German troops and armour, disrupting their supplies and hindering their advance—two attacks on the morning of the 30th reduced some fifty enemy vehicles to blazing wrecks. In these operations Kittyhawks now appeared as fighter-bombers and they flew dangerously near the ground. Their losses were considerable but results appeared to justify them, German prisoners testifying to the alarming accuracy of the attacks and cursing the inadequate protection afforded by their own aircraft. And as the fight swayed to and fro in the ‘Cauldron’, General Auchinleck reported that ‘our own Air Force is co-operating magnificently in the battle.’

After four days of assault from the air and stiffening resistance on the ground, the enemy supply position had become serious and the whole issue hung in the balance. But then, under cover of sandstorms which prevented the RAF from operating intensively, Rommel contrived to widen the gaps in the British minefield and drew back upon them to replenish his supplies. Thereafter events moved swiftly to a climax. Mistaking his temporary withdrawal for exhaustion, the British launched an attack aimed at crushing the enemy bridgehead. It failed in the face of superior German armour and a powerful array of anti-tank artillery. Rommel thereupon seized the initiative, turning his main effort against Bir Hacheim at the southern extremity of the British line.

Here the RAF was already supplying the isolated garrison and defending it against the assaults of the Luftwaffe with no little success. Now it redoubled its efforts to help the gallant Free French Brigade, who were rejecting calls to surrender in language of increasing impropriety. And as the air attack mounted the sight of Stukas crashing in flames and bombs bursting among enemy vehicles ‘on their very doorstep’ drew murmurs of appreciation from the defenders. ‘Bravo! Merci pour le R.A.F.’ signalled their commander; and with commendable gallantry and a laudable command of idiom, Coningham replied: ‘Bravos à vous! Merci pour le sport.’ The dive-bombers were beaten—indeed so many were destroyed or damaged that the Germans had to bring in Ju88s hurriedly from Crete to fill the gap—but the garrison, pounded by a mass of heavy artillery and short of water and supplies, was forced to give up the position after fifteen days' fighting; under cover of the RAF a brave remnant fought its way out and lived to fight again. Their dogged defence of this desert outpost became something of a legend for the fighting French but it was an episode in which the RAF had played no small part. And it seriously upset the plans on which the enemy had based his offensive.

With our southern flank broken and his supplies thereby assured, Rommel now swung north and the fighting round Knightsbridge reached a new fury. At its close the enemy were masters of the field and our own armour gravely reduced, compelling a general withdrawal to the Egyptian frontier. Then things went wrong and soon the Eighth Army was falling back in headlong retreat. The Germans followed up swiftly, crashed through the defences of Tobruk, capturing over 30,000 men and great quantities of supplies, and then immediately swept on towards the Egyptian frontier. Auchinleck was forced to order further withdrawal, first to Matruh and then to El Alamein, where there existed a relatively narrow front of about thirty-five miles which could not be turned since it lay between the sea and the vast salt-pan known as the Qattara Depression. Here the defence was hurriedly reorganised with what resources were available and the enemy was at last halted-only sixty miles from Alexandria.

Throughout this black fortnight, when all that our forces had so painfully won seemed to be slipping away, the Desert Air Force fought hard and continuously. During the Knightsbridge battle Bostons, Hurricanes and Kittyhawks went out hour after hour on a shuttle service of bombing and strafing, returning only to refuel, re-arm and take off again. The landing grounds shimmered in the June heat under a constant cloud of dust kicked up by the take-offs. Beneath it, ground crews worked each hour of daylight and far into the darkness; they abandoned their tents and dug themselves holes in the ground beside their aircraft in the dispersal areas, flinging themselves wearily into these holes to get a few hours' sleep when exhausted. After dark they muffled their heads in blankets and worked on their aircraft by the light of pocket torches; and they continued to work through bombing raids in which the enemy was using peculiarly unpleasant anti-personnel missiles known as ‘butterfly bombs’. And while these men toiled on the ground through the midsummer heat, the pilots and aircrews flew, fought and flew again, without time to shave their beards or change their clothes. Certainly they earned Auchinleck's acknowledgment that ‘it should be made clear that R.A.F. support for the Army has been unstinted at great sacrifice throughout the present campaign.’

But the greatest achievement of Desert Air Force came during the retreat to El Alamein; for while the Eighth Army was moving back some 400 miles in a fortnight, it not only escaped destruction on the ground but it also escaped decimation from the air. This second fact was the more remarkable since, for days on end, the coastal road presented the astonishing spectacle of a congested mass of slowly moving troops and transport, a target such as pilots' dreams are made of. A little attention from Stukas and Messerschmitts and the lorries must have piled up in endless confusion. But the enemy bombers did not appear and the Eighth Army reached El Alamein virtually unmolested from the air—during one period of three days when the congestion was greatest, its casualties on the road from air attacks are recorded as being just six men and one lorry. This incredible immunity was partly due to the inability of the Luftwaffe to keep up with Rommel's advance but, when due allowance is made for this fact, the German dive-bombers could still have wrought havoc among our retreating forces had their activities not been vigorously discouraged by the Royal Air Force. Much of the work of its squadrons was done out of sight of our troops; highly effective attacks, for example, were made on the Gazala airfields as soon as they were occupied by the enemy, so crippling the German fighter effort from the start. Later, enemy squadrons were twice caught on the ground, at Tmimi and Sidi Barrani, at critical moments during the pursuit. And such fighters as the Germans did manage to bring forward were kept so busy trying to protect their own forces that they had little leisure to attack ours. But the Army realised the protection the RAF was giving it. ‘Thank God, you didn't let the Huns Stuka us,’ General Freyberg told Tedder, ‘because we were an appalling target.’

This was after the New Zealanders' brief stand at Minqar Qaim. Actually the Division did suffer two bombings on 26 June, but as its official historian points out: ‘The outstanding feature of Minqar Qaim was not its impact on the enemy or its contribution to Eighth Army's operations, but that the Division escaped annihilation. The Division's concentration on the escarpment made it vulnerable to air attack.’ —J. L. Scoullar, Battle for Egypt, p. 135.

Coningham's squadrons certainly gave the enemy little rest. After the fighters and light bombers had finished by day, the Wellingtons carried on by night. Released from the Benghazi ‘mail run’—a change greeted by the crews with cheers—they moved up to the Western Desert and flew a steady sixty or seventy sorties every night against the enemy's concentrations. And even though Desert Air Force was continually forced to retire from its forward bases, the effort in the air was increased and not diminished. During the first week of the German attack Coningham's squadrons flew 2339 sorties, but in the last week, when the El Alamein line was withstanding the initial shock, they flew 5458. At the same time, the proportion of aircraft serviceable, so far from declining as the fight continued and casualties mounted, actually showed a slight improvement. All this was made possible by the strenuous and indeed heroic efforts of the air and ground crews, by the boldness of their leaders and the remarkable efficiency of the organisation that had been created. Weeks before, Coningham had had plans prepared for retreat as well as for advance and the landing grounds to the rear had been stocked with petrol and bombs. His squadrons were therefore able to make a steady withdrawal, fighting all the time. And as they moved back, repair and salvage units stripped the airfields of all useful equipment and supplies. The result was that the Luftwaffe advanced on to empty desert while the Royal Air Force moved back on to well-stocked bases from which it could operate with greater intensity.

Thus did the RAF give the Eighth Army almost complete and continuous support. The only exception was at Tobruk, where the enemy had things all his own way after the loss of Gambut airfield drove our main fighter force back out of range. But the very swiftness and immensity of the disaster at this point, when our fighters were virtually absent, points the contrast to the successful retirement along the rest of the route where they were so very much present. As the British Prime Minister, ‘watching with enthusiasm the brilliant, supreme exertions of the Royal Air Force in the battle’, told the House of Commons afterwards: ‘When we retreated all those hundreds of miles at such speed, what saved us was superior air power.’

* * * * *

During these eventful months of early 1942, New Zealanders played their part with Desert Air Force in steadily increasing numbers. While fighter pilots gave a good account of themselves in the air battles with the Luftwaffe and in attacks on ground targets, bomber crews shared to the full the dull monotony of the ‘mail run’ to Benghazi and the nightly raids on the enemy's rear areas; they also joined in the land battle with good effect when the opportunity came. And although their contingent was still relatively small, the New Zealand airmen had already achieved something of a reputation for skill and efficiency among their comrades from other parts of the Commonwealth. By June 1942 twenty-five of them had been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, four more had won a bar to this decoration and another twelve had received the Distinguished Flying Medal for operations with the RAF in the Middle East.

An interesting feature of this period was the arrival in the Middle East of that outstanding air leader, Sir Keith Park, who took command of Air Headquarters, Egypt, at the beginning of January 1942. The appointment was opportune since, following his command of the most active fighter group in the Battle of Britain, Park was thoroughly experienced in organising and leading an aggressive fighter defence. Shortly after his arrival the Germans began more frequent incursions from their bases on the island of Rhodes and in the Dodecanese, but under Park's direction the air defences of Egypt—day and night fighters, anti-aircraft batteries, searchlights and the radar and observer corps warning system—were organised into a more efficient team and the raiding bombers given a hot reception. During the six months prior to the decisive battle of El Alamein, no fewer than forty of them were shot down over Egypt by our fighters alone. At a time when all three services were struggling to build up adequate supplies in Egypt, this successful defence was of the greatest importance.

Among our fighter pilots with Desert Air Force, Squadron Leader Derek Ward, in command of No. 73 Hurricane Squadron, and Flight Lieutenant Westenra, who led a flight in No. 112 Kittyhawk Squadron, were again outstanding on operations. Ward brought his Hurricanes back to the Western Desert early in February after spending a few weeks based at Port Said in defence of the Canal Zone; they were now used to defend the bases of the Desert Air Force at El Adem. At dawn one early February morning a flight of German bombers flew in from the sea and Ward took off in his Hurricane to intercept. Here is his report of the subsequent engagement, during which he shot down a Heinkel III bomber:

My approach was observed, and the enemy aircraft dived down to sea level. I carried out an astern attack with no apparent result. There was continuous return fire from the top twin-machine guns. I carried out another astern attack firing at port and starboard engines. Both engines were damaged and oil came back and covered my windscreen. The enemy aircraft could not maintain height and belly-landed on the water, north of Tobruk.

During the lull at Gazala, Ward's squadron continued night operations over the forward area. On one patrol early in May while strafing Barce airfield, Ward caught sight of a large four-engined bomber flying directly in front of him; a short burst set one of its engines on fire and a second saw the bomber enveloped in flames; a few moments later it crashed and exploded in a sheet of flame that lit up the whole area. With the opening of the German land offensive, Ward's squadron returned to day operations and was soon in action over the battle. Ward led sortie after sortie and his Hurricanes did particularly good work in aid of the French Brigade at Bir Hacheim, dropping supplies and intercepting enemy air formations. One of the most successful missions in this eventful period was flown on 12 June. ‘At 1935 hours,’ says the record, ‘twelve Hurricanes were detailed to sweep S.E. of El Adem. It was the fourth sortie of the day. Near Acroma they met a large force of Ju87s and Ju88s covered by Me109 and Macchi fighters and in the hectic fight which followed five Stukas were shot down with four more probably destroyed. The only damage suffered by us was one Hurricane slightly damaged.’ By this time Ward himself was credited with six enemy machines destroyed with a further four ‘probables’. But like so many of his gallant comrades of the early years, his luck eventually failed him. It was towards the end of this same month, while he was leading his Hurricanes as escort to a formation of Boston bombers, that German fighters made a surprise attack. Ward was one of four pilots lost.

Flight Lieutenant Westenra was frequently in action with his squadron. One day towards the end of January when the Eighth Army was pulling back to Gazala, he led an attack on German armour near Fort Sculedine, where six vehicles and one tank were destroyed or damaged. By mid-February the Kittyhawks were flying sweeps from Gambut and on the 14th Westenra's squadron scored a notable success. Led by the redoubtable Australian fighter pilot, Squadron Leader C. R. Caldwell, later to be credited with the highest number of kills in operations by Desert Air Force, eighteen Kittyhawks encountered a formation of some thirty enemy aircraft over El Adem and claimed the destruction of twenty. On another occasion in March, Westenra was leading seven aircraft of his squadron which took off from their base at Gambut to patrol the forward area. Here they intercepted fifteen Ju87 dive-bombers escorted by Messerschmitt 109s and Macchi 200s. In breaking up the enemy formation Westenra claimed a Macchi 200 destroyed and a fellow pilot a Ju87. Later in the month Westenra was concerned in experimental dive-bombing with Kittyhawks, which led the squadron to turn to this new role.

Two other fighter pilots prominent during these months were Flight Lieutenant J. E. A. Williams,

Squadron Leader J. E. A. Williams, DFC, m.i.d.; born Wellington, 6 May 1919; joined RAF 17 Jan 1938; commanded No. 450 Sqdn 1942; prisoner of war, 31 Oct 1942; shot attempting to escape from Stalag Luft III, 29 Mar 1944.

flight commander with No. 450 Kittyhawk Squadron, and Flight Sergeant Joyce flying Hurricanes with No. 73 Squadron. Williams shot down a Messerschmitt while leading his flight over Gambut one day in June; about the same time, Joyce, on night patrol in defence of our desert airfields, shot down one of the Ju88 bombers that were making frequent raids after dark when our fighters were grounded. Sergeants Baker,

Flying Officer R. L. Baker; born Nethem, Surrey, 29 Mar 1920; railway fitter; joined RNZAF Oct 1939; killed on air operations, 20 Oct 1943.

Howell,

Flight Sergeant A.E. Howell; born Ballarat, Aust, 10 May 1915; clerk; joined RNZAF May 1940; killed on air operations, 3 Apr 1942.

Musker

Warrant Officer K. McK. Musker; born Uruti, 30 Jan 1916; farmer; joined RNZAF 28 Oct 1940.

and Wilson

Flight Lieutenant A. S. Wilson; born Milton, 2 Apr 1921; civil servant; joined RNZAF 27 Oct 1940.

did good work flying Hurricanes and Pilot Officer Mitchell,

Pilot Officer S. S. Mitchell; born Wellington, 28 Dec 1920; bank clerk; joined RNZAF 19 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 31 May 1942.

Sergeants Newton

Flight Lieutenant R. H. Newton, DFC; born Wellington, 8 Oct 1918; civil engineer; joined RNZAF 2 Mar 1941.

and Thomas

Warrant Officer H. G. E. Thomas; born Masterton, 25 Nov 1919; shepherd; joined RNZAF 30 Nov 1940; prisoner of war, 5 Sep 1942; safe in UK 24 Apr 1945.

as Kittyhawk pilots. And it is interesting to record that two New Zealanders, Sergeants Bailey

Warrant Officer B. W. Bailey; born Motueka, 31 May 1919; mechanic; joined RNZAF Feb 1941; prisoner of war, 30 Jun 1942.

and Burman,

Warrant Officer D. C. Burman; born Maidenhead, England, 7 Oct 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF Dec 1940; killed on air operations, 16 Aug 1944.

flew some of the first Spitfires that reached Desert Air Force in June 1942.

With the Beaufighters that were employed both on shipping protection and in low-level attack against airfields and transport behind the enemy lines, Flying Officer Makgill,

Flying Officer J. E. Makgill; born Auckland, 1 Nov 1913; engineer; joined RAF 6 Dec 1939; killed on air operations, 25 Jun 1942.

Flight Lieutenant Hamm- ondHammond, Flying Officer Watters and Flight Sergeants Cutten

Flight Lieutenant A. G. Cutten; born Auckland, 13 Sep 1911; clerk; joined RNZAF Mar 1940.

and France

Flying Officer J. S. France; born Gore, 17 Jun 1917; stock clerk; joined RNZAF 29 Sep 1940.

were prominent on operations. The daily entries in their squadron records are brief, but here is one that indicates the spirit and dash with which Beaufighter crews operated.

1 May 1942. Three aircraft took off at dawn on strafing expedition in Agedabia area. Found and attacked five lorries near Bigrada; one towing a petrol bowser blew up in a most satisfying fashion. Later sighted twelve vehicles heading north each towing trailers carrying oil drums. Spectacular fire followed our attack. Further north came upon larger convoy and attacked with machine guns, causing fires and confusion. Soon after this “R” chased a Ju 52 near the coast and it forced landed on the beach. On return his Beaufighter showed a rifle bullet hole in the fuselage directly under pilot but bullet had been deflected by elevator control.

Crews were not always so fortunate. On 15 June, when twenty-six sorties were flown to cover a large convoy bound for Malta from Alexandria, six aircraft were lost, two being shot down by enemy fighters and two more possibly by our own naval guns; another stayed with the convoy to the utmost limit of his endurance and may have run out of fuel on the way back. However, one also reads that on this same day a crew on reconnaissance patrol ‘found the Italian Fleet, made careful observation of its composition and position and then flashed “a rude word” on the aldis lamp at the nearest cruiser, which promptly opened fire, very inaccurately.’ They then went on and shot down an Italian fighter.

A highlight in Beaufighter operations was the low-level attack on 2 July against the group of landing grounds at Sidi Barrani, where four Ju87s and two Messerschmitts were destroyed and another thirteen other aircraft damaged.

The men who flew heavy bombers, the Wellingtons and the few newly-arrived Liberators, had a less spectacular part to play; but it was none the less important and it is now known that during the retreat to El Alamein the larger bombs they dropped caused considerable damage at enemy landing grounds and among supply vehicles.

Most of the bomber men already mentioned in this chapter continued to fly regularly with their squadrons, achieving a fine record of service. Squadron Leader Macfarlane,

Squadron Leader M. H. Macfarlane, DFC and bar; born Christchurch, 25 Oct 1916; shepherd; joined RNZAF Jun 1939; transferred RAF Jan 1940; retransferred RNZAF Jul 1945.

Flight Lieutenant Pownall,

Flight Lieutenant C. A. Pownall, DFC; born Wellington, 15 Jan 1915; electrical engineer; joined RNZAF 15 Jun 1939; joined RAF Jan 1940; retransferred RNZAF 18 Jan 1945.

Flight Sergeants Armstrong,

Flight Lieutenant C. A. Armstrong, DFM; born Auckland, 15 Apr 1918; customs clerk; joined RNZAF Jun 1940; killed on operations, 12 Jun 1944.

Metcalf

Flying Officer A. G. Metcalf, DFM; born Bradford, England, 5 Jun 1919; farmer; joined RNZAF 15 Jun 1939; killed on air operations, 28 Dec 1943.

and Starky

Squadron Leader J. B. Starky, DSO, DFC; born Gisborne, 10 Nov 1916; farmer; joined RNZAF 2 Jul 1940.

also did good work as captains of aircraft and Flight Sergeants James

Warrant Officer A. James, DFM; born Wellington, 24 Jan 1920; civil servant; joined RNZAF Nov 1939.

and Coleman

Flight Lieutenant K. K. J. Coleman, DFM; born Blenheim, 20 Mar 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF Mar 1940.

as air gunners. Each of these men had already flown on operations with Bomber Command in England; Coleman and James, for example, had each completed fifty missions against targets in Germany and the Middle East by April 1942. And while the nightly raids with Desert Air Force might be somewhat less exciting than those against targets in the Ruhr, yet incident was not lacking. For instance, after one sortie to Benghazi when the flak batteries were more than usually active, Armstrong landed back with his Wellington holed in twenty-six places. On another night Metcalf's machine ran short of petrol on the return flight from Derna and he and his crew were forced to bale out over the desert; they managed to collect together but it was two days before they were found and picked up. One NCO pilot, Sergeant Black,

Flying Officer A. T. Black; born Christchurch, 10 Jul 1912; ledgerkeeper; joined RNZAF Nov 1940.

after his Wellington had come down in the sea off Sollum, was lucky enough to be spotted with his crew in their dinghy the next day by a Walrus of the Fleet Air Arm and then picked up a few hours later by a rescue launch. Inevitably others were less fortunate. Here is what happened to a crew from No. 148 Squadron in which Sergeant Spence

Warrant Officer B. W. Spence; born Napier, 25 Nov 1917; customs clerk; joined RNZAF 29 Sep 1940; prisoner of war, 23 Feb 1942.

was second pilot.

We were briefed to attack an enemy convoy steaming towards Tripoli [he writes]. After flying up to advanced base in the afternoon we took off for our mission just after dark.

Everything went smoothly until we crossed the coast north of Benghazi, when suddenly the port motor of our Wellington started to overheat and in a very short time it seized up; the plane started losing height very rapidly, although the starboard motor was at full throttle so the captain ordered everything possible to be jettisoned, and turned back. We crossed the coast again and let go the bombs. The plane seemed to hold its height for a time but soon the good motor started to heat and we began to lose height again.

The night was so black we couldn't tell how far off we were from the high ground until suddenly we hit with a tremendous crash and skidded along for quite a distance. We all got out unhurt and although I had been dragged along on the floor behind the bomb bays I only received a small knock on the hip. The plane seemed to be in small pieces. We reckoned we were then about 80 miles behind the German lines, then around Gazala, so decided to try and walk back. After smashing up everything not already written off in the crash and filling our only two surviving water bottles, the six of us set off about midnight using the compass found undamaged in the wreck.

After only a few hours walking in flying boots over the terribly rough ground in this region we were all worried with blisters. About two O'clock we almost bumped into an enemy tank and in trying to get round it came across some more. Whichever way we turned we saw tanks; we must have walked into the middle of an enemy laager in the darkness so decided the only thing to do was to try to work our way through them. In single file we crept past tank after tank and although we could hear the crews coughing and talking we were not seen and when we finally realised that we had passed through safely we were six considerably shaken men.

Shortly after this the moon came up and we were able to see where we were placing our very sore feet. We continued walking with ten minute breaks every hour until just as it was getting light in the East, we were suddenly stopped with the cry of ‘Halt’, at which we all threw ourselves flat. From the voice we could tell it was not friendly so after a hurried whispered conference we crawled back the way we had come and tried to get round him to the South only to walk into another challenge. This time we decided to try the North and were able to go about 200 yards before once again the cry of ‘Halt’ rang out, this time accompanied by the noise of a rifle bolt being worked. We simply froze to the ground expecting a bullet every second. After a few agonizing moments we crawled back the way we had originally come.

By this time it was getting quite light so we crept back looking for cover but could find nothing except an occasional stunted bush about a foot high, so settled down to await the coming of the search parties we were sure would be out the moment the sentries reported our presence, yet although we lay all that day in clear view of several parties of Italians, working on roads, no attempt was made to find us. However we had one or two scares, once when a motor-cyclist passed within 20 yards of us and another when about ten tanks rumbled past about 200 yards away. We had bully beef and biscuits with us but we were unable to swallow them on our ration of two mouthfuls of water each twice a day.

As soon as it became dark enough we set off on a compass course we had worked out during the day and were able to pass the enemy parties apparently before sentries had been posted. That night we covered a considerable distance without any alarms and when morning came we reckoned we had covered about 30 miles from the crash. As there was no sign of life anywhere we decided to keep walking before we got too weak from lack of water so on we went. Our ten minute spells every hour had become by this time twenty minutes and even thirty minutes. Every step was agony. The one member of the crew who had shoes, had them fall to pieces about this time so we had to bind them up with blankets. Although we were suffering terribly from the heat at this time we still kept our blankets and Irvine jackets because the nights were so cold.

About mid-day we saw a plane very low, flying straight for us and couldn't tell because of the haze, whether it was a Hurricane or a M.E.109. By the time we could see the markings and recognise it as a Hurricane and were able to fire our flare pistol and wave our shirts, it was right over us and we were not seen, a great disappointment.

Shortly after this we came across a bird's nest among the stones with two eggs in it. They made a delightful drink when beaten up with a little of our nearly exhausted water supply. We each had two and a half spoonfuls.

Later in the afternoon we had to climb a fairly high hill and on top we found an old observation post and in it half a bottle of red Italian wine which we shared out after a few thoughts of poison. About this time we must have started having hallucinations from lack of water because we all saw what looked like deserted British trucks and Bren carriers down the other side of the hill; but when one of the crew volunteered to climb down to search them for water he found only empty desert. After a rather longer rest than usual we set course again until after dark when we had another experience of seeing quite clearly a truck looming up out of the darkness which just disappeared as we approached.

Soon we came to a bigger bush than usual with, of all things, green grass growing under it, so as we could go no further lay down to sleep. We must have slept for quite a time for when we woke, the grass was very wet with dew and we were able to lick off quite a bit of water before forcing ourselves to walk on. We were now down to about 15 minutes walking every hour and realised we were about at the end of our endurance, but thought we must be getting near our lines as the lack of movement convinced us we must be in ‘No-Mans Land’.

Just before dawn we collapsed and fell asleep where we lay. We were awakened by one of the crew shouting and we looked up to see him pointing ahead towards a group of trucks parked on the horizon facing West. We could make them out as British and guessed they were a party on the road from Tobruk to Gazala, stopped for breakfast. With new strength and very pleased with ourselves we set off, waving and trying to shout and firing off our revolvers. As we approached we could see a small group of men on a slight rise examining us through glasses and then two of them started walking in our direction. When they were about fifty yards off we realised they were German but I think we were all too far gone to take it in enough to worry.

The officer greeted us in English and told us to follow him. Sure enough as we approached we could see that the trucks were British but were being used by the Germans. We had walked into an anti-tank group and behind the guns were the German crews watching the British tanks about two miles away. One of the officers even lent us his glasses so that we could get a good look at them. The Germans gave us what water they could spare and we were soon bundled into a staff-car and taken back by stages to Derna where we were able to get our feet attended to and as much water as we wanted.

It was during these months that a few Liberator bombers began adventurous operations in support of the patriot forces in Yugoslavia, dropping agents, supplies and ammunition near their mountain fastnesses, and three experienced New Zealand bomber pilots, Flight Lieutenant Rolph-Smith,

Squadron Leader D. M. Rolph-Smith, DFC, Order of the White Eagle (Yug); born Auckland, 19 Jun 1919; salesman; joined RNZAF Apr 1939; transferred RAF Jan 1940; killed in flying accident, 18 Nov 1943.

Flying Officers Madill

Squadron Leader S. J. Madill, OBE, DFC, Order of the Crown (Yug); born Auckland, 14 Dec 1913; farmer; joined RNZAF 24 Nov 1940.

and J. A. H. Smith,

Squadron Leader J. A. H. Smith, DFC, Order of the Crown (Yug); born Hastings, 21 Apr 1920; baker and pastrycook; joined RNZAF 15 Jul 1940.

were among the crews specially chosen for these duties. Rolph-Smith flew the first sortie on 26 March 1942, when he made a survey of the proposed area of operations; during the following months all three pilots were to make a valuable contribution to this hazardous work and win high commendation for their skill, resource and endurance.

At first the Liberator crews concentrated on establishing contact with the partisans, dropping leaflets to explain their intentions and parachuting down agents who would act as liaison officers and send back radio reports and instructions as to the best dropping areas. Then, after a few weeks, regular supply dropping sorties began. The usual round trip meant a flight of some thirteen hours, much of it over wild, mountainous country. There were other difficulties. Meteorological reports were either non-existent or unreliable, the weather was frequently appalling with rain, icing, electrical storms and thick cloud and there was always the danger of interception by enemy fighters. Navigation was especially difficult, since wireless aids often could not be used because of static and astro-navigation became impossible when the stars were obscured or the sextant mirror frosted over. All too often crews reached the vicinity of the dropping zone only to find that thick low cloud covered their pinpoints, hiding the signals of the reception party—then there was no alternative but to return with their containers and packages. But undaunted, they went back again; and by their persistence they enabled the partisans to receive sufficient help and encouragement for them to hold out during a very difficult period of constant German pressure.

CHAPTER 4 Western Desert—The Third Year

‘ROMMEL will be in Cairo within a few days,’ boasted the German radio on 30 June 1942. And the Italian dictator Mussolini was already at Derna preparing for the triumphal entry, having brought with him, so it is said, a white horse on which he proposed to lead the procession.

But the high hopes raised by the enemy's rapid advance into Egypt were doomed to disappointment. For Rommel's forces were well-nigh exhausted and, in the face of British air superiority and stiffening resistance on the ground, they now proved unequal to continuing their race across the desert. Against the advancing columns Coningham's squadrons flew over seven hundred sorties a day. ‘The continuous raids by day and night are hindering us seriously,’ reported the enemy, ‘and the supply situation has become even worse.’ Meantime, under cover of the constant RAF attack, the British army was able to recover from the disorganisation of its retreat; and at El Alamein it turned to fight. The troops fought stubbornly and by the end of the first week in July they had fought the enemy to a standstill. For the moment at least, Cairo and Alexandria were safe.

In his despatch, General Auchinleck pays high tribute to the part played by Desert Air Force during this first phase of the battle for Egypt. ‘Our air forces,’ he writes, ‘could not have done more than they did to help and sustain the Eighth Army in its struggle. Their effort was continuous by day and night and the effect on the enemy was tremendous. I am certain that had it not been for their devoted and exceptional efforts we should not have been able to stop the enemy on the El Alamein position.’

Attack and counter-attack now succeeded each other as Auchinleck sought to regain the initiative at El Alamein. But while his efforts resulted in some improvement in our general position, they failed in their main purpose of driving the enemy back; our reserves were too few to maintain the initial momentum of the attacks and our armour, some of it new and inexperienced, suffered heavy losses. By the end of July both sides were thoroughly exhausted by the long battle and it was clear that a stalemate had been reached. The ground fighting slackened and once again both sides became involved in a struggle to build up supplies and renew their strength.

The RAF continued to operate intensively throughout these weeks. Baltimores and Bostons, based in the Canal Zone but operating from forward landing grounds, pattern-bombed the enemy troop positions from dawn to dusk; indeed their formations, well protected by fighters, operated with such regularity that they became known to those watching below as ‘The Eighteen Imperturbables’. Simultaneously Kittyhawks, Hurricanes and some newly-arrived Spitfires took off from their landing grounds along the Cairo-Alexandria road to range ceaselessly over the enemy's lines, attacking ground targets and shooting down Stukas and Messerschmitts; Beaufighters strafed enemy airfields and transport behind the front. At night the attack was continued by the heavy bombers now withdrawn to Palestine for lack of room in Egypt. Wellingtons, refuelling in the Canal Zone, attacked troop positions in the light of flares dropped by Albacores; they also bombed the port of Tobruk, for the old familiar target of Benghazi was now far beyond their reach. The few Liberators, however, could still reach the latter port direct from Palestine and their crews played their part well.

The effect of all this effort and endeavour is seen in the diary of the German Afrika Korps, where difficulties of supply and damage and loss caused by our air attacks receive repeated mention. On 21 July, Rommel himself reported that ‘the enemy air force by its continual day and night operations has caused considerable loss among our troops, delayed and, at times, cut off our supplies …. the supply situation is tense owing to continual attacks on German supplies at Tobruk and Matruh.’

The lull in the ground fighting during August brought a decline in air activity over the battlefield. Even so, Coningham's fighters and bombers flew over 5700 sorties that month, excluding shipping sweeps and protection; for with the enemy gradually concentrating fighter squadrons at Fuka and Daba, it was essential to retain our air supremacy over the forward area and to defend our bases from surprise attack. An interesting feature of this period was the defeat of the German attempt at high-level reconnaissance with pressurised Ju86 aircraft, capable of flying at 45,000 feet. Specially stripped Spitfires, operating in pairs, accounted for three of them within a month. The first victory —a solo effort—was obtained at 49,000 feet on 24 August by Flying Officer Reynolds,

Flight Lieutenant G. W. H. Reynolds, DFC; born London, 27 Aug 1905; car-sales manager.

RAF, the 38-year-old chief test pilot at a large maintenance unit. He shot down another in mid-September. The technique was for one pilot to guide another within visual range of the enemy, whereupon he climbed to the level of the Ju86 to fire at the latter's engines; the other pilot waited below and, if necessary, finished off the winged bird.

But the main RAF effort was directed against Rommel's supplies. For the enemy was now beset with the difficulties attendant on maintaining an army with land lines of communication stretching 600 miles to the west, and an army, moveover, that was in immediate need of reinforcement in men and equipment. Matruh and, more especially, Tobruk, which he had brought into use as reinforcing ports, became the objectives for ever-increasing bomber raids. Simultaneously our torpedo-bombers went out against shipping, and their attacks, together with those of our submarines, made it most difficult for the enemy to run supplies across from Greece. The repeated raids on Tobruk prevented the Germans from making anything like full use of this port. This, in turn, forced them to bring up supplies from Benghazi either in lorries, which soon wore out, or in small coastal craft which provided attractive targets for our long-range Beaufighters. And Benghazi itself was now under attack by the Liberators. According to Admiral Weichold, chief German liaison officer at Italian Naval Headquarters, about 35 per cent of the total enemy cargoes despatched to North Africa during August failed to reach their destination.

While the enemy's supplies were thus being curtailed our own were arriving in the Canal Zone in an ever broadening flow, with which the enemy entirely failed to interfere. Night after night German aircraft dropped mines in the Suez Canal but these were quickly swept up. Apart from this, not only our ports and bases but the long desert road from Cairo to Alexandria, crowded with military traffic and flanked on either side by camps and landing grounds, were seldom visited by the Luftwaffe. In the face of our continuing attack, Kesselring was compelled to employ most of his bombers as well as his fighters in protecting Rommel's communications by land and sea. Thus did the RAF continue to hold the initiative as our ground forces prepared for their next battle.

* * * * *

In mid-August 1942 General Alexander took over command in the Middle East and General Montgomery was appointed to lead the Eighth Army, Churchill's directive to Alexander being ‘to take or destroy at the earliest opportunity the German Italian Army ….’ With these changes of command and the arrival of strong reinforcements, a new spirit infused our forces in Egypt and the way was paved for a major offensive.

Particularly important was the greater unity of purpose and understanding now achieved between Desert Air Force and Eighth Army; Montgomery at once showed a keen appreciation of the part that could and should be played by the RAF in the land battle and the close liaison he now established with Coningham was to be reflected in

THE ALAMEIN AIR OFFENSIVE, 1942Black and white diagram showing airforce operation at Alamein highly successful operations during the next few months. ‘I hold,’ said Montgomery, ‘that it is quite wrong for the soldier to want to exercise command over the air striking forces. The handling of an air force is a life study and therefore the air part must be kept under air force command ….Eighth Army and the Desert Air Force have to be so knitted so that the two together form one entity. The resultant military effort will be so great that nothing will be able to stand up against it.’ The land and air forces would retain their own commands, each qualified to face its special problems, but they would operate under a combined plan. And since the soldier no longer wished to control the air striking force, there was little danger of dissipating air power in small instalments at the will of ground formations whose vision was limited to a few attractive targets on their own immediate front. For the air front, as Coningham pointed out, was indivisible and penny packets of air power were a luxury that could only be afforded at certain times. Judgment on the question of targets must be the result of agreement between the army and air commanders. This would be reached in the light of the situation as a whole; and it might well lead them to disappoint a section of their front by declining to use the bombers on one particular hostile concentration in order to dispose of a more formidable mass twenty miles away, whose safe arrival at its destination might affect a whole week's fighting on the entire front.

Above all, it was now generally realised that while the army had one battle to fight—the land battle—Desert Air Force had two. It had first of all to beat the enemy air force so that it might then go into battle against his land forces with the maximum possible hitting power. And as Montgomery pointed out: ‘If you do not win the air battle first you will probably lose the land battle.’

Meantime things remained fairly quiet in the desert where the two armies faced each other on the line south from El Alamein. Desert Air Force continued to operate but at reduced pressure and, apart from the heat and a plague of flies, its squadrons now lived more comfortably than they had done for many months. Water was plentiful; the recreations of Alexandria were at hand; and such luxuries as fruit and fresh meat appeared on the trestle tables in mess tents. And while the desert airmen gratefully absorbed a few civilised comforts for a change, training and re-equipment proceeded. The fighter force became stronger. It soon had twenty-one squadrons and the standard of serviceability was further improved; moreover, there were now three squadrons of Spitfires sweeping high over the desert and causing Messerschmitt pilots to look apprehensively upwards instead of down.

The land fighting suddenly flared up again at the end of August when Rommel, realising our growing strength, decided to make a last bid to break through to Alexandria. Some fierce clashes took place, especially round Alam el Halfa, but with his moves anticipated and in the face of a vigorous defence, the enemy onslaught failed to make any real progress; and within a week the battle was over. During the fight ing the RAF made a strenuous and sustained effort in support of the Eighth Army. On the eve of the enemy attack, Coningham told his men: ‘The battle is on. Good luck in your usual brilliant work. This defensive land fight for Egypt will be followed later by an offensive and then away we go. Meanwhile go for him in the air whenever you can.’ And go for him they did. In five days Desert Air Force flew over 3000 sorties. Fighters held the ring over the battlefield and protected our troops from the Luftwaffe—now making a somewhat belated effort— while bombers, fighter-bombers and fighters alike hammered away at enemy troops and armour. Bunched up by the pressure of our artillery and tanks, these latter offered a superb target and it was most effectively dealt with. ‘The continuous and very heavy attacks of the R.A.F.,’ says Rommel, ‘absolutely pinned my troops to the ground and made impossible any safe deployment or advance according to schedule.’ And General Bayerlein, Chief of Staff of the Afrika Korps, afterwards declared: ‘Your air superiority was most important, perhaps decisive …. We had very heavy losses, more than from any other cause.’

With Rommel's second attempt to break through to Alexandria thus defeated, the Eighth Army intensified its preparations for a major offensive. The RAF for its part continued with reconnaissance, patrol and attack over and beyond the enemy front, and more especially with the assault on his supply lines. And here it was that the seeds of the enemy's final overthrow and defeat were sown. For Rommel's weakness lay behind him and with the mounting offensive—from Malta as well as Egypt—against his shipping, his ports, and transport on the desert roads, his forces in Egypt were now deprived of the material and, above all, the petrol that were so essential for victory in desert warfare. During October, our aircraft and submarines between them sank some 50,000 tons of enemy shipping on the North African routes. Of the cargo of which Rommel was thus cheated, 65 per cent was fuel. Small wonder that one of his generals afterwards remarked bitterly: ‘El Alamein was lost before it was fought. We had not the petrol.’

Meanwhile, in the desert, the enemy had been forced on the defensive and, as Rommel himself admits, our command of the air now actually dictated the enemy's military dispositions:

… the first and most serious danger which now threatened us was from the air. This being so, we could no longer rest our defence on the motorised forces used in a mobile role, since these forces were too vulnerable to air attack. We had instead to try to resist the enemy in field positions which had to be constructed for defence against the most modern weapons of war.

We had to accept the fact that, by using his air-power, the enemy would be able to delay our operations at will, both in the daytime and—using parachute flares—at night. For no man can be expected to stay in his vehicle and drive on under enemy air attack. Our experience in the ‘Six-day Race’ had shown us that any sort of time-schedule was now so much waste paper. This meant that our positions had henceforth to be constructed strongly enough to enable them to be held by their local garrisons independently and over a long period, without even the support of operational reserves, until reinforcements—however much delayed by the R.A.F.—could arrive.

The fact of British air superiority threw to the winds all the tactical rules which we had hitherto applied with such success. There was no real answer to the enemy's air superiority, except a powerful air force of our own. In every battle to come the strength of the Anglo-American air force was to be the deciding factor.

The Rommel Papers, p. 286.

At the end of September 1942, Rommel, now a sick man, flew to Germany for treatment. When he returned a month later it was to find his army fighting a desperate battle and the situation gone beyond hope of recovery.

* * * * *

Such was the background of events against which men of the Desert Air Force flew and fought during the summer and autumn of 1942. Led by their distinguished fellow countryman, Air Vice-Marshal Coningham, New Zealand airmen continued to share in all phases of the air activity.

The fighter pilots in their Hurricanes, Kittyhawks and Spitfires patrolled the battlefield at the height of the land fighting and intercepted formations of enemy fighters and dive-bombers; they also escorted light bombers on their missions and, turning often to the fighter-bomber role, attacked ground targets with good effect. Squadron Leader Hayter,

Squadron Leader J. C. F. Hayter, DFC and bar, m.i.d.; born Timaru, 18 Oct 1917; farmer; joined RNZAF 5 Dec 1938; transferred RAF 18 Aug 1939 and RNZAF 16 Aug 1944; commanded No. 274 Sqdn, Middle East, 1942; No. 74 Sqdn, Middle East and Europe, 1943—44.

Flight Lieutenants J. E. A. Williams and Ingram

Squadron Leader M. R. B. Ingram, DFC; born Dunedin, 13 Dec 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF 28 Jul 1940; commanded No. 152 Sqdn, SE Asia, 1943—44; died of injuries received on air operations, 11 Jul 1944.

were specially prominent in such operations.

Hayter commanded a squadron of Hurricanes which put up a very fine effort; in one action early in July he and his pilots broke up a formation of enemy fighters and, without loss, drove down two of them and damaged seven others. Williams, who was a flight commander in No. 450 Kittyhawk Squadron, flew consistently in patrol and attack. One day in mid-September, while leading ten Kittyhawks over the El Alamein positions, he sent two Stuka dive-bombers down to explode on the ground and damaged a third; during another sortie against the enemy airfield at Daba he shot down a Ju88 bomber. Ingram was also a flight commander in No. 601 Spitfire Squadron; he frequently led patrols over the battle area and in various actions shot down three Messerschmitts and damaged another. Four other fighter pilots who did good work at this time were Flight Sergeants R. H. Newton and Morrison,

Flying Officer T. H. Morrison; born Auckland, 8 Jun 1920; shop assistant; joined RNZAF 2 Mar 1941.

who flew Kittyhawks with No. 112 Squadron, and Flying Officer Hesketh

Squadron Leader C. R. Hesketh, DFC; born Auckland, 12 Jun 1913; solicitor's clerk; joined RNZAF Mar 1941.

and Flight Sergeant D. C. Burman with No. 145 Spitfire Squadron.

Less spectacular but equally effective work was done by the men who flew Beaufighters and Hurricanes in defence of our bases in Egypt against enemy night bombers; the results they achieved were highly creditable, since the isolated raiders flying in from the sea were anything but easy to intercept. Flight Lieutenant Mackenzie,

Wing Commander R. M. Mackenzie, DSO, DFC, AFC; RAF; born Tai Tapu, 8 Sep 1916; joined RAF 23 Aug 1937; transferred RNZAF Jan 1944; commanded No. 227 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943; Training Staff, HQ RAF, Middle East, 1944; transferred RAF 1947.

with Pilot Officer Craig

Flight Lieutenant A. L. Craig, DFC; born Dartford, England, 10 Dec 1917; metalworker; joined RNZAF Sep 1940.

as his radio observer, were a most successful Beaufighter crew in No. 46 Squadron; one night early in July they intercepted and shot down a Heinkel III bomber near Alexandria and then a few weeks later they shot another night bomber down in the sea off Aboukir; a further encounter followed in September when they caught a Heinkel approaching Alexandria and sent it down with engines on fire to explode on the ground within sight of one of our airfields. Warrant Officer E. L. Joyce did similar execution flying a Hurricane of No. 73 Squadron, a unit, incidentally, with which New Zealanders had been associated since the early days of the war. One night he picked up a Ju88 flying 400 feet above him over Maaten Baggush. Following the bomber despite the fact that it was turning and circling, he closed to 50 yards and opened fire. Three of the Hurricane's cannons jammed and the enemy aircraft again took violent evasive action, including sharp dives and steep climbing turns, but, says the official report, ‘Joyce clung tenaciously to its tail despite return fire and finally closed in to engage the enemy aircraft successfully with his one cannon.’ By the end of August, Joyce, who had now been flying with No. 73 Squadron for over a year, had brought his score to eight enemy aircraft destroyed —five of them at night. The Beaufighters and Hurricanes also went out to strafe enemy airfields by night and some of the first sorties against German air bases in Crete were flown by Mackenzie and Craig.

More than fifty New Zealanders captained bomber aircraft during these months, with others flying as navigators, wireless operators and gunners. Squadron Leader L. J. Joel did particularly fine work both as pilot and formation leader of Baltimore light bombers operating mainly against targets on or near the battlefield; they frequently met intense anti-aircraft fire and on several occasions Joel's machine was hit and damaged, but each time he managed to land back safely and continue flying. Also flying Baltimores were Warrant Officers Baker

Flying Officer L. T. Baker; born Wanganui, 2 May 1915; audit clerk; joined RNZAF Sep 1940; drowned on active service, 29 Sep 1943.

and Askew,

Flight Lieutenant G. D. Askew; born Sydney, NSW, 17 Oct 1914; packer; joined RNZAF Jul 1940.

both pilots, and Warrant Officer Callender,

Warrant Officer H. R. Callender; born Auckland, 30 Jan 1919; bank clerk; joined RNZAF Jul 1940; prisoner of war, 6 Oct 1942.

a navigator. On one raid against an enemy petrol dump their squadron ran into heavy flak and most of the aircraft were hit; one crashed and blew up, two others also came down but their crews survived. In Callender's machine both engines failed and a propeller fell off; he and two other members of his crew baled out at once only to land in the midst of the enemy; their pilot found his cockpit hood jammed so he crash-landed in no-man's-land and then escaped under fire.

The crews of the heavier bombers—most of them flew Wellingtons for there were still only a few longer range Liberators and Halifaxes— went out by night to attack enemy ports, shipping and supply dumps; they also bombed concentrations of tanks and vehicles in the battle area. Here are some of the men who captained Wellington aircraft on many such missions: Squadron Leader Morton,

Wing Commander J. E. S. Morton, DFC, m.i.d.; RAF; born Invercargill, 11 Jun 1915; clerk; joined RNZAF 14 Jun 1939; transferred RAF 17 Jan 1940; commanded No. 40 Sqdn, 1942—43; Chief Training Instructor, No. 203 Group, Middle East, 1943—45.

Squadron Leader Steel

Squadron Leader F. J. Steel, DFC; born Masterton, 7 Jul 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF 20 Nov 1939.

and Flying Officer Fleming

Flight Lieutenant R. T. Fleming, DFC; born Opotiki, 23 Sep 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF 24 Nov 1940; prisoner of war, 13 Aug 1944.

of No. 40 Squadron; Flight Lieutenant Hetherton,

Squadron Leader J. A. Hetherton, DFC; born Tapanui, 14 Oct 1915; electrical engineer; joined RNZAF Dec 1940.

Flying Officer Holdaway

Flight Lieutenant E. A. Holdaway, DFC and bar; born Carterton, 8 Jan 1918; storeman; joined RNZAF Dec 1940.

and Flight Sergeant Spinley

Flight Lieutenant M. Spinley, DFM; born Wellington, 1 Nov 1922; butcher; joined RNZAF 2 Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Feb 1945.

with No. 37 Squadron; Flying Officer B. H. Gray

Flight Lieutenant B. H. Gray, DFC; born Waverley, 10 Dec 1912; commercial traveller; joined RNZAF Jan 1941.

and Pilot Officer Stewart

Flight Lieutenant D. R. Stewart, DFM; born Belfast, Canterbury, 8 Oct 1915; clerk; joined RNZAF 22 Dec 1940.

of No. 70 Squadron; Flight Lieutenant Beale,

Squadron Leader H. H. Beale, DFC and bar; born Waipiro Bay, 10 Sep 1916; shepherd; joined RNZAF Jan 1941; died of wounds while prisoner of war, 8 Apr 1944.

Flying Officer E. L. Gray,

Flight Lieutenant E. L. Gray, DFC; born Wellington, 24 Mar 1911; farmer; joined RNZAF Jan 1941.

Flight Sergeants Taaffe

Flight Lieutenant R. J. Taaffe, DFM; born Frasertown, Hawke's Bay, 14 Dec 1918; ledgerkeeper; joined RNZAF 18 Jan 1941; killed on air operations, 24 Nov 1943.

and Craig

Flight Sergeant L. L. A. Craig; born Auckland, 22 Jan 1918; civil servant; joined RNZAF Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 7 Nov 1942

of No. 104 Squadron; Flying Officer Campbell,

Flight Lieutenant F. V. Campbell, DFC; born Otahuhu, 14 Sep 1916; butter-maker; joined RNZAF Mar 1941.

Flight Sergeants Momo

Flight Lieutenant R. J. R. Momo, DFC; born Christchurch, 9 Apr 1922; apprentice electrician; joined RNZAF 23 Mar 1941.

and A. T. Black of No. 148 Squadron; and Flight Lieutenant Kofoed

Wing Commander W. R. Kofoed, DSO, DFC; born Outram, 28 Dec 1915; farmer; joined RNZAF 24 Nov 1940.

who captained a Halifax of No. 462 Squadron on many long-range missions. Several of these men were flight commanders of their units; all performed their duties with conspicuous courage, ability and steadfastness. And the same may be said of navigators like Flying Officer Spence

Flying Officer N. Spence; born Rimu, Canterbury, 8 Nov 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF 29 Sep 1940; presumed killed on 18 Sep 1942 while attempting to escape.

and gunners such as Flight Sergeant Piper,

Flight Sergeant C. C. Piper; born Ohakune, 3 May 1918; labourer; joined RNZAF 1 Oct 1940; killed attempting to escape, 18 Sep 1942.

both of whom were killed while attempting to escape after being shot down in a raid on Tobruk.

A special word must be added about the men who flew with No. 162 Wellington Squadron for, in addition to bombing missions, they carried out special flights to discover the strength and coverage of enemy radar and radio systems as well as calibrating and checking our own. Flying Officers Watson,

Squadron Leader R. J. Watson, DFC; born Waimate, 5 Jul 1916; law clerk; joined RNZAF 1 Dec 1940; killed on air operations 5 Mar 1944.

Hegman

Squadron Leader J. A. Hegman, DSO, DFC; born Auckland, 23 Jun 1916; farmer; joined RNZAF Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 15 Feb 1944.

and King

Flight Lieutenant N. R. King, DFC; born Christchureb, 16 Dec 1915; shop assistant; joined RNZAF Jan 1941.

each captained aircraft of this unit. In September 1942 Watson and Hegman went to Malta and in a period of twelve nights flew eight special missions over Sicily and Italy. Three months later Hegman made another similar series of flights, after which Sir Keith Park signalled: ‘162 Squadron aircraft have done a first-class job for Malta by revealing the extent of enemy R.D.F. cover in the Central Mediterranean. We are now able to route our aircraft to achieve maximum of surprise and the minimum danger of interception.’

Another sphere of operations in which New Zealanders were prominent was the attack on enemy ships at sea by Wellington torpedo-bombers. These aircraft, rather slow and vulnerable by day but with the advantage of range, had been brought in to close the gap left by the day patrols and thus prevent enemy ships getting across under cover of darkness. Some of the Wellingtons acted as search aircraft. Equipped with radar and carrying parachute flares, they patrolled the shipping lanes nightly and on finding a target reported by radio; they then ‘homed’ strike aircraft to the position and dropped flares around the convoy to illuminate it for attack. Pilots of the strike aircraft had no easy task for their torpedoes had to be dropped from about seventy feet and on dark nights it was difficult to estimate this height and avoid flying into the sea. Squadron Leader Harding

Wing Commander A. H. Harding, DFC; born Wellington, 1 Sep 1918; civil servant; joined RAF 7 Aug 1938; transferred RNZAF 1 Jan 1944; commanded Special Duties Flight, Malta, 1942; No. 353 Transport Sqdn, India, 1945.

and Flying Officer Frame

Flight Lieutenant J. S. Frame, DFC; born Mosgiel, 26 Jul 1916; cost clerk; joined RNZAF Feb 1941.

of No. 221 Squadron did good work as captains of search aircraft, while Flight Sergeants A. G. Metcalf and Rusbatch,

Warrant Officer T. D. Rusbatch; born Oamaru, 19 Dec 1918; mechanic; joined RNZAF 24 Nov 1940.

Sergeants Fraser

Flight Lieutenant W. A. Fraser, DFC, DFM; born Dunedin, 8 Dec 1921; sheep farmer; joined RNZAF May 1941.

and Hornung

Flight Sergeant W. Hornung, DFM; born Christchurch, 12 Sep 1918; customs clerk; joined RNZAF Dec 1940; killed on air operations, 10 Apr 1943.

each captained Wellingtons of No. 38 Squadron.

One night in September Metcalf and his crew, which included a Scot, an American and two other New Zealanders, flew in a squadron attack against a convoy off Tobruk. There were three merchant ships escorted by no fewer than twelve destroyers, and as the Wellingtons approached they were given a hot reception. And since it was a clear night with a full moon the bombers were a good target. After some manoeuvring, Metcalf flew in very low to launch two torpedoes at a large cargo vessel and a few moments later two violent explosions were seen as they struck almost amidships. But as the Wellington swept over the convoy it met a veritable hail of anti-aircraft fire; one shell burst under the starboard engine, ripped open the fuselage, put the wireless out of action and wounded the operator, Flight Sergeant Cumming,

Flying Officer J. D. C. Cumming, DFM; born Christchurch, 2 Jun 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF 1937.

in both arms and a thigh. The bomber, however, remained airborne and when Metcalf had set course for base he went back and dressed Cumming's wounds. Thereupon, although in considerable pain, Cumming set about making repairs to the wireless; then having sent out the necessary signals he assisted the navigator, who had also been wounded, to guide the machine back to Egypt. Over base it was found that only one undercarriage wheel could be lowered but Metcalf succeeded in making a safe landing. Later the crew had the satisfaction of receiving confirmation that they had sunk the supply ship.

A remarkable experience was shared by Sergeant Joyce

Pilot Officer J. L. Joyce; born Wellington, 11 Jun 1918; warehouseman; joined RNZAF Jul 1940.

and the crew of his Wellington bomber. They were struggling back after a raid on shipping at Tobruk with one engine out of action, having jettisoned everything moveable in the aircraft, when the strain proved too much for the remaining engine and the pilot had to crash-land in the desert. They were then some fifty miles south-east of Tobruk and well behind the enemy lines. The landing was successful, no one was hurt, and when daylight came the crew began to reconnoitre their position. Enemy aircraft flew overhead but apparently did not see them; some wandering Arabs they met proved suspicious and unhelpful.

On the second day Joyce led a party to the coast road with the idea of capturing some form of transport; two men hid in a burnt-out lorry on one side of the road and two more behind a pile of stones on the opposite side. Convoys passed by continually for two hours and then, suddenly, at a moment when the road was otherwise clear, a staff car appeared. As it drew near one of the men stepped out into the road and held up his hand. The car stopped. Two German officers were in the front seats with an orderly behind, but they were too surprised to offer resistance in the face of a levelled revolver. The Germans were relieved of their weapons and the British airmen took over the car and drove back to their aircraft. There they picked up their companions, loaded food and water, and set off eastwards across the desert. They passed abandoned camps, narrowly avoided an old minefield, and were making good progress the following day when the front axle broke. Walking on they reached the vicinity of the German lines at night and began making their way stealthily forward. At one point they found themselves among parked German transport, and when one driver leaned out of his vehicle to pass a remark they muttered a reply and passed on safely. But shortly before dawn they blundered over an escarpment into a forward post where they were promptly surrounded and captured.

The next day they were put on a truck bound for a prison camp at Tobruk, accompanied by two Italian drivers and two Italian guards, each carrying revolvers. As they drove along there was a pleasant exchange of smiles and gestures amidst which the aircrew made their plan; and at the first stop they fell upon the Italians and disarmed them. With one of the Italians still at the wheel the truck now drove eastwards, climbing towards Halfaya. Next morning they left the road and began making their way across the desert but became lost; several times the truck became bogged and the men, several of whom were now showing signs of illness, had to dig it out. Eventually they came across an abandoned dump which provided some food, including, above all things, prunes, but these were most welcome as all the men were now covered with desert sores. On the tenth day, while searching for water, the party was fortunate to be surprised by two trucks from the Long Range Desert Group and it was from its desert rendezvous that the airmen, after handing over their Italian prisoners, were finally picked up and flown back to their squadron. They had spent nearly a fortnight in the desert.

* * * * *

With his supply lines under continual attack, Rommel was unable to keep pace with the British build-up in Egypt. By mid-October 1942, on the eve of the last and greatest battle of El Alamein, Montgomery had a superiority of some two to one in men, tanks and guns; and the disparity in fuel and ammunition stocks was even greater. In the air the RAF had some 1200 aircraft based in Egypt and Palestine; the Germans and Italians still disposed of nearly 3000 machines in the Mediterranean area but they had barely 700 in Africa, and of these little more than half were serviceable. General Alexander, British Commander-in-Chief, regarded the coming battle with confidence. ‘We had the advantage over the enemy in men, tanks and guns and we had a vigorous and enterprising field commander who knew well how to employ these advantages. The Eighth Army was certainly the finest and best equipped we had put in the field so far …. The Royal Air Force had established such complete air superiority that enemy aircraft were unable to interfere with our preparations, and Eighth Army was kept supplied with regular air photographs of the enemy disposition.’

In the great events which now unfolded, Desert Air Force was to lead the way. According to the overall plan, its crews were to start intensive attacks against the enemy air force four days before the opening of the land battle, which was timed for 23 October. An earlier opportunity, however, occurred which Coningham was quick to seize. On the 6th, very heavy rain began to fall, and three days later reconnaissance photographs showed the enemy landing grounds at Daba under water and those at Fuka usable only with the greatest difficulty. Coningham at once sent some 500 fighters and bombers against these two groups of airfields, where their attacks destroyed or put out of action some thirty enemy aircraft and did great damage to airfield transport, dumps and gun positions. It was thus against opponents already seriously weakened that Desert Air Force opened its full offensive ten days later. Boston, Mitchell and Baltimore light bombers with Hurricane, Kittyhawk, Spitfire, Tomahawk fighters and fighter-bombers were then let loose in successive attacks, and by the eve of the land offensive it was estimated that more than half of the Luftwaffe's effective strength in the area had been disabled. Indeed, such was the degree of air superiority achieved by Coningham's squadrons that all the preliminary moves and dispositions for Montgomery's ground attack were made without the slightest interference from the enemy either in the air or on the ground. The assaulting infantry of 30 Corps, for instance, moved forward on the night of the 22nd and spent the whole of the next day in their slit-trenches in advance of our main positions without being in any way observed or molested.

Shortly after dark on 23 October British guns opened up with the heaviest barrage so far heard in Africa and under its cover our infantry, including that of 2 New Zealand Division, moved forward all along the line. Bostons laid smoke screens, Wellington bombers began continuous attacks on enemy guns and concentrations, while Hurricane night fighters strafed troops and vehicles. With the dawn, Hurricane, Kittyhawk and Spitfire fighters and Boston, Mitchell and Baltimore light bombers went into action to operate at record intensity throughout the day, the light bombers making no fewer than fourteen consecutive attacks. To our infantry and tanks pressing forward through gaps made in the enemy minefields the fighters gave complete immunity from enemy air attack, while the light bombers operated incessantly against the enemy ground forces, concentrating on their vehicles and gun positions. The anti-aircraft fire, however, was often intense and the light bombers suffered severely, six being shot down and ten more seriously damaged. Enemy air activity on the other hand was slight and Spitfires even patrolled high over his forward fighter landing grounds without being seriously challenged.

Throughout the following days and nights, as hard fighting developed on the ground, Desert Air Force continued to operate at high pitch. The airfields were clothed in a persistent cloud of dust kicked up by the continual take-offs; and beneath it air and ground crews alike toiled in a sweating, grimy fury of assault. Over the battlefield, squadrons helped our troops to smash enemy counter-thrusts and on several occasions even prevented Rommel's armour from assembling to launch an attack. ‘On 28 October,’ writes Montgomery, ‘the enemy made a prolonged reconnaissance of Kidney Ridge, probing it for soft spots while two German Panzer Divisions waited in the rear. In the evening they began to concentrate for attack, but Desert Air Force intervened to such effect that the enemy was defeated before he had completed his forming up.’

And when in turn our own troops drove forward, Coningham's squadrons went ahead to weaken the opposition. On 2 November fighters and bombers flew more than 600 sorties in support of a determined thrust by ground forces. The fighters also dealt effectively with the Luftwaffe's belated efforts to join in the battle. On 28 October, for example, an attempt by Ju87s to attack our forward positions was so completely frustrated that the once formidable Stukas jettisoned their bombs on their own troops. A few days later a formation of British and American Kittyhawks intercepted thirty Ju87s escorted by fifteen Me109s. The American fighters held the ring; the British fighters closed in and shot down seven of the enemy without loss to themselves; and again the Stukas jettisoned their bombs on their own troops.

Meanwhile our bombers had made things so difficult for the enemy behind the front that Rommel was reduced to flying in petrol from Crete—much to the disgust of the German bomber crews relegated to these duties. Their supply ships were being regularly sunk; and three consecutive attempts to bring convoys into Tobruk during the latter part of October all ended in failure. Here is what happened to the last convoy. Consisting of two merchant ships and a tanker, escorted by four destroyers, it was first sighted by a reconnaissance Baltimore north-east of Benghazi on the afternoon of 25 October. Wellingtons duly found and attacked the ships during the night but were unable to claim any definite success. The hunt therefore continued and the following day the convoy was again located off Derna, where it was carefully shadowed until it came within range of our day torpedo-bombers. Two attacks were then launched by Beauforts, which scored hits on the tanker and damaged at least one of the merchant vessels. The same evening Wellingtons followed up with an attack just outside Tobruk harbour, where they hit the larger merchant vessel and caused a huge explosion which covered the whole convoy with black smoke and flying debris. More Wellingtons went out during the night but all they could find was the tanker blazing furiously from stem to stern.

The fighting at El Alamein had lasted ten days when our reconnaissance aircraft began to return with reports of traffic streaming west along the coastal road. The enemy had had enough and, under cover of his artillery, had started to break away. Under pressure from our ground and air forces, this withdrawal soon became a headlong rush in which the Germans left many of the Italian troops without transport in which to retreat or even to supply their daily rations of food and water; and when they were finally cut off and abandoned, our aircraft flew over dropping food and water to keep them alive until they could be rounded up in prison camps.

Some 30,000 prisoners and immense quantities of equipment were captured at El Alamein by our victorious troops. The subsequent pursuit, however, was hampered in its early stages by heavy rain. Montgomery's armour and vehicles, attempting to strike across the desert and encircle the enemy, were bogged down for two days and Rommel, with the main body of his army, got away to a good start. Thereafter our ground forces seized every opportunity to round up the enemy, but in the meantime the task of striking at his retreat fell mainly to the RAF; General Alexander records that ‘during this phase when X Corps was unable to come to grips with the enemy, the work of the Royal Air Force was particularly valuable.’ Even so, opportunities for striking heavy, and perhaps decisive, blows were missed at Fuka, Matruh, and in the frontier passes where the congestion and confusion of the enemy was greatest. This was partly due to flooded airfields restricting operations and also to the fact that a large part of the fighter force was held back to cover our forward troops against enemy air attack.

However, although the RAF was not able to deliver a really concentrated attack at this stage it at least made things extremely uncomfortable for the enemy.

‘That night [7/8 November] enemy bombers flew non-stop attacks against the Sollum-Halfaya position …. Next morning there was still a 25-mile queue of vehicles waiting to get through the passes. Traffic had moved very slowly … as a result of the incessant attacks of the R.A.F.’

‘All that day [8 November] … formations of British bombers and close-support aircraft attacked the coast road and inflicted serious casualties on our columns ….’—The Rommel Papers.

All the way from Daba to the Egyptian frontier both fighters and bombers continued to attack his retreating columns, and they kept it up right across Cyrenaica with squadrons leap-frogging ahead to operate from landing grounds well forward-sometimes in advance of the main army and protected only by armoured cars. One particularly bold move was made by Coningham on 13 November when he sent two squadrons of Hurricane fighters, completely by air transport, to a landing ground about 180 miles east of Agedabia, ahead and to the south of even our forward troops. To the great surprise of the enemy, the Hurricanes suddenly appeared over his columns retreating round the bend of the Gulf of Sirte and inflicted considerable damage—they also destroyed enemy aircraft on the ground at Agedabia and Gialo.

During the pursuit it was, in fact, the fighter and fighter-bombers that moved forward most rapidly for they were now highly mobile and needed fewer supplies. Reconnaissance parties descended on the desert airfields as fast as the enemy abandoned them and with the help of forward troops prepared the way for ground staff to move in and receive the squadrons. Many of the captured airfields presented a different appearance from that left by the RAF during its retreat six months earlier, when almost every aircraft had been got away. At Daba, for example, there were about fifty enemy aircraft in various stages of unserviceability, some shattered, a few only slightly damaged; one Messerschmitt 109G was taken and soon its engine was running. Piled in one corner and intended for salvage were the remains of thirty-nine Messerschmitts and an unrecognisable heap of further wreckage.

On 11 November, while the New Zealand Division was occupying the frontier area, our fighters caught up with the enemy air force and had a most successful day, shooting down aircraft not only over the frontier but also on the enemy's own landing grounds far beyond at Gambut and El Adem. Two days later our Hurricanes and Kittyhawks were flying from the same two airfields bombing and machine-gunning enemy transport in the Gebel Akhdar. By 16 November the main British fighter force was operating from Gazala and during the next two days it destroyed thirty-seven Ju52 transport aircraft by means of which the enemy was trying desperately to relieve his fuel shortage. When Montgomery's advanced troops entered Benghazi on 19 November, two. fighter wings were established at Martuba, and a week later they moved forward to Msus to cover the next stage of the advance. One important result of this rapid occupation of the airfields in the hump of Cyrenaica was that our fighters could now cover ships bound for Malta almost all the way from Alexandria. And towards the end of November they saw a convoy safely through to the besieged island— the first to reach Grand Harbour for three long months.

Meanwhile the bombers had began to move westwards carrying some of their petrol and supplies forward from one landing ground to another. In the first few days of their advance the ‘heavies’ came forward 200 miles from Palestine to Egypt and carried all their own bombs; later on they moved another 300 miles forward into Libya. Both light and medium bombers continued to strike at the retreating enemy columns until these passed out of range. Tobruk and Benghazi were also bombed to prevent their last-minute use by the enemy for supply. Then as targets thinned out with our speedy re-occupation of Cyrenaica, a large part of the Wellington bomber force was transferred to Malta, where it would be well within range of enemy ports in Tripoli and Tunisia.

Rommel's retreat from Alamein to El Agheila—nearly a thousand miles in eighteen days—constituted a record for the course, but equally remarkable was the way in which our land and air forces kept on the enemy's tail despite most unfavourable weather, delays imposed by mining, ingenious booby traps, the destruction of roads, and some stubborn rearguard actions.

Each day units moved farther westwards, tumbling all their gear into lorries and getting out again on to the crowded coast road, which grew worse rather than better, for whole stretches of it had been practically blasted away by bombs or washed out by floods. Tents were abandoned and men stretched themselves to sleep on the ground behind whatever shelter a truck would provide. Bully beef became not so much the staple as the only diet and a mug of hot tea often a thing to be dreamt of. Fighter pilots returning from patrol settled in circles to talk wistfully of tenderly cooked steaks and other delicacies. But nobody cared very much for this was an advance. And day and night as the enemy fled to the west they pursued him, striking at his columns and destroying his vehicles and aircraft.

At Agheila, where naturally strong defensive positions existed, Rommel put up a show of a fight so the Eighth Army paused to renew its strength before launching an attack. Meanwhile Coningham's supporting fighter squadrons had cut out the coastal bulge at Benghazi and moved across the inland desert to Antelat, Agedabia and El Haseiat. From these airfields they now bombed and machine-gunned enemy strongpoints, bases and landing grounds; their attack on Marble Arch airfield was so continuous that the German fighters based there were forced back to Nofilia, fifty miles to the west. Simultaneously our bombers made heavy raids on the Tripolitanian ports.

Short of supplies and lacking adequate fighter cover, Rommel began to retreat from Agheila on 13 December before he had been seriously attacked by our land forces. Then Coningham once again turned his squadrons on to the retreating enemy and Montgomery records: ‘They did a great execution on the coast road.’ By the end of December the enemy had withdrawn to prepared defences at Buerat. But the Eighth Army followed up quickly and when, after a brief stand, Rommel's forces again took to the road, our troops cheerfully renewed the pursuit, their vehicles now chalked with the words: ‘On to Tripoli’.

Desert Air Force kept up with the new advance, helped greatly by an increasingly efficient air transport organisation. At Marble Arch airfield two thousand land mines had to be lifted, but as soon as enough safe space was available for landing and dispersal the squadrons were signalled to advance. First to arrive was a fighter-bomber wing which, with the aid of transport aircraft, made the move entirely by air. Fighters, ground crews, staff, equipment, bombs, petrol and oil all arrived at Marble Arch in one combined operation on 18 December. The pilots helped the ground crews prepare for action and within two hours the first fighter-bombers were off to attack the enemy, who were taken by surprise on the road to Sirte. They had thought that Marble Arch would be out of action for a week, but it was in use by the RAF within two days of its evacuation.

Such was the pattern and speed of forward movement by the squadrons during the rest of the great advance. It was achieved in the face of mounting difficulties; for the enemy tried every device to slow up the fighter-bomber squadrons that were attacking his columns on the roads westwards towards Tripoli. He resorted to still heavier mining of airfields and their surroundings; he also began ploughing up landing surfaces in the most fantastic manner, one craftsman in partic- ularparticular creating enormous furrowed whorls of rich complexity and individual design until a burst of cannon fire from a fighter overhead turned him from the plough; his touch was never seen again and his successors worked more hastily on less elaborate lines.

The enemy's efforts availed him little since our forces simply made new airfields. Ground parties went ahead in small convoys escorted by RAF armoured cars, tracking over the desert to select the new sites. The sand was levelled, soft patches were filled in with hard core, scrub torn out and burnt, rocks and boulders shifted and a landing ground carved out of the rough surface, often within forty-eight hours; then a radio message brought the aircraft forward. Moreover, the technique quickly improved. One landing-ground site, 1200 yards square, selected in the Bir Dufan area was serviceable in three hours, enabling fighter formations to move forward in one hop of 140 miles; and at Tripoli itself, where the airfield was most thoroughly ruined by the enemy, three new grounds were carved out of the desert in twenty-four hours. All along the way the Army gave invaluable help; at one point the New Zealand Division detailed two thousand troops to pick up stones and make a landing ground; and there were cases where a whole brigade performed this service for the RAF

5 NZ Brigade Group lost 14 killed and 49 wounded under attacks by fighter-bombers while picking up stones on one of these fields.

—striking evidence that inter-service collaboration was now complete.

* * * * *

For the fighter pilots these had been particularly eventful months. In the weeks before the Alamein battle, they had fought and won a notable victory over the Luftwaffe; thereafter they had maintained and pressed home their advantage by aggressive action in the air and by continual attacks on the enemy's landing grounds. And while thus gaining and holding the initiative, they had been able to give invaluable help to their comrades on the ground. With the advance, units had been continually on the move, operating from as many as a dozen different landing grounds within a month; and it is worth remembering that a squadron of aircraft with all the cumbersome necessities of petrol, bombs, servicing equipment, signals and operations control, does not move as easily as a squadron of tanks or armoured cars. Yet hot though the pace was, the Desert fighter squadrons never fell behind and never failed to carry out their assignments.

Some idea of the intense activity of these three remarkable months may be gained from these entries in the operational diary of one Kittyhawk fighter wing:

L.G.91. October 31st. Two hundred sorties were made on armed recce, ground strafing and bomber escorts. A Stuka party was intercepted and five Ju 87s and two Me 109Fs destroyed, with six more probables. During other operations three more Messerschmitts were destroyed, two more and one Ju 87 probably destroyed, with eight others damaged. Fifty vehicles, eleven ammunition dumps were also attacked and four lorries carrying petrol blew up. Altogether this month, for the loss of fifteen pilots, forty-two enemy machines have been destroyed, eighteen probably destroyed and twenty-two damaged in the air. A further twenty-one aircraft were destroyed or damaged on the ground.

L.G.101. November 8th. Fighter, bomber and strafing attacks against enemy transport on the Sollum road were pressed home during the day, twenty MT being destroyed and twenty-five damaged. ‘B’ party arrived at L.G.106.

L.G.106. November 12th. Fighter sweeps over the Tobruk and Gazala areas with little opposition from enemy aircraft. (Advance party left at 0500 hours and arrived Gambut satellite at 1630 hours.)

Gazala No. 2. November 17th. Successful fighter sweeps over Benghazi and Magrun. In the air nine enemy machines, including two Me 109Fs and one Ju52 Transport, were destroyed. On the ground eight more aircraft and ten MT vehicles were destroyed, with another thirty-six vehicles, some carrying troops, damaged. Three of our pilots are missing.

Martuba No. 4. November 20th. Patrols over our forward troops in the Msus/Agedabia areas and reconnaissance flights as far as El Agheila.

Martuba No. 4. November 30th. Wing and Squadron parties left for Antelat. Altogether during this month the wing has advanced a distance of nearly 550 miles, much of the travel being by desert tracks, sometimes almost impassable owing to bad weather yet squadrons continued to operate efficiently at all times due to keenness and unflagging energy of the ground staffs.

Belandah No. 1. December 10th. Long range strafing and bomber attacks on enemy transport resulted in over thirty vehicles being damaged. A successful bombing attack was also made at Nofilia airfield.

Marble Arch. December 19th. Advance party arrived. Airfield so thickly sown with mines that it was impossible to locate squadrons on the edge of the landing ground itself and as few personnel as possible were encamped near the aircraft. Extensive fighter bomber attacks were made on the Sirte road where twelve vehicles were destroyed and over one hundred damaged; there were attacks on camps and anti-aircraft posts were also machinegunned. Two of our pilots are missing.

Alem-El-Chel. December 30th. Air activity on a greatly increaseds scale. On two occasions patrols encountered hostile aircraft and dealt with them effectively, eight Me being destroyed, one probably destroyed and two damaged. We lost no aircraft.

Hamreiat East. January 14th. Fighter sweeps south of Tauorga and over the Sedada area. Forty-eight aircraft escorted South African Bostons to bomb Bir Dufan. Other aircraft carried out fighter-bomber raid on enemy concentrations, west of Gheddahaia.

Tripoli. January 24th. Advance party arrived at Castel Benito 0500 hours, occupied landing ground 0730 hours. Air party arrived am. Bombing raid made on Ben Gardane aerodrome. Wing assumed control of airport pending arrival of station personnel. Guard placed on Chianti Brewery pending arrival of military authorities!

Squadron Leader J. E. A. Williams led one of the Kittyhawk squadrons of this wing during the Alamein battle. After a series of profitable sorties, he was unlucky enough to be forced down behind the enemy lines and taken prisoner; eighteen months later, in March 1944, he took part in the famous escape from Stalag Luft III in Germany and was one of the fifty officers shot on recapture.

Pilot Officer Fallows

Flight Lieutenant G. Fallows; born Eltham, 23 Jun 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF Mar 1941; prisoner of war, 26 Mar 1943.

and Sergeant Fourneau,

Flying Officer S. J. Fourneau, DFC; born Norsewood, 12 Apr 1919; orchardist; joined RNZAF 3 May 1941.

Flight Sergeants Holmes,

Flying Officer N. C. Holmes; born Ashburton, 25 Dec 1919; labourer; joined RNZAF Dec 1940.

R. H. Newton and Thomas

Flight Lieutenant B. H. Thomas, DFC; born Kaponga, 25 Sep 1918; clerk; joined RNZAF 21 Dec 1940.

flew Kittyhawks throughout the whole period. They saw plenty of action. For instance, on the eve of Alamein, Fallows and Thomas were flying with their squadron as escort to Baltimores and Bostons attacking Daba; fifteen enemy fighters dived on the Kittyhawks and in the dogfight which followed Fallows shot down one Messerschmitt and Thomas damaged another. At the height of the land battle, Newton's squadron flew forty-eight sorties a day; in a sweep over Fuka they claimed four Ju87 dive-bombers and two Messerschmitts for the loss of one pilot; Newton accounted for one of the dive-bombers. While patrolling Benina airfield during the advance to Benghazi, Holmes's squadron intercepted bombers carrying in fuel for the German panzer units and shot down seven of them. Holmes got a Heinkel.

Three Spitfire pilots who flew consistently in patrol and attack were Flight Lieutenants M. R. B. Ingram and D. F. Westenra and Flying Officer C. R. Hesketh. When his squadron intercepted a Stuka party over Matruh, Ingram shot down one of the escorting Messerschmitts and then went on to share in the destruction of a dive-bomber. A few days later he destroyed another Messerschmitt over El Agheila. During the advance to Tripoli, Hesketh's squadron intercepted enemy fighters over Tamet and shot down five of them. Hesketh got two Macchi 202s; bits and pieces fell from both machines and then they crashed into the sea. During this air battle his squadron leader was forced to land on the sea and Hesketh remained to mark and report the position, thus enabling a speedy rescue to be made.

Flying with one of the Hurricane ‘tank-buster’ squadrons were Pilot Officer McGregor

Flight Lieutenant P. N. McGregor; born Auckland, 25 Dec 1917; school teacher; joined RNZAF Dec 1940.

and Sergeant Paton.

Flight Lieutenant J. B. Paton; born Wellington, 25 Mar 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF 19Feb 1941.

On the first day of the Ala- meinAlamein battle, McGregor hit two tanks and shared another. A few days later Paton shared in the destruction of more than a dozen lorries; during the attack his Hurricane was hit, forcing him to land in the desert, but he managed to get back to his squadron and resume flying at once.

New Zealanders also flew with the bomber squadrons which played a notable part both before and during the Alamein battle with their continual raids on enemy ports and shipping, their attacks on airfields, supply dumps and transport, and their bombing of enemy concentrations on the battlefield. Some of the men who did outstanding work as bomber captains have been mentioned earlier in this chapter, but there were now others like Squadron Leader McKay,

Group Captain J. J. McKay, DSO, DFC, DFC (US); born Nelson, 2 Jun 1916; salesman; joined RAF Oct 1937; permanent commission RAF Sep 1945; commanded No. 178 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943; SASO, HQ Levant, 1944; commanded No. 240 Wing, MAAF, 1944—45.

flight commander with a squadron of long-range Liberators, Flying Officer A. B. Smith,

Flight Lieutenant A. B. Smith, DFC; born Veletta, Paraguay, 13 Mar 1914; accountant; joined RNZAF 19 Jan 1941.

who captained a Wellington bomber of No. 40 Squadron, and Pilot Officer O'Connor

Squadron Leader B. M. O'Connor, DFC; born Palmerston North, 28 Nov 1916; architectural student; joined RNZAF 13 Apr 1941.

and Sergeant Franich

Flying Officer L. B. Franich; born Dargaville, 2 Oct 1916; salesman; joined RNZAF 23 Mar 1941.

of No. 37 Squadron, also flying Wellington bombers. There were also navigators like Flight Sergeant Blaikie,

Flying Officer I. A. Blaikie, DFM; born Christchurch, 23 Jul 1918; landscape gardener; joined RNZAF Dec 1940; killed on air operations, 5 Aug 1944.

wireless operators like Flying Officer Crawford

Flying Officer H. J. Crawford; born Dunedin, 21 Oct 1918; salesman; joined RNZAF Jan 1941.

and Flight Sergeant Temm,

Flying Officer A. W. Temm, DFM; born Auckland, 16 Sep 1918; farmer; joined RNZAF 1 Sep 1940.

and gunners like Flight Sergeants Campbell

Warrant Officer D. B. Campbell, DFM; born Dargaville, 8 Jun 1920; postman; joined RNZAF 13 Feb 1940.

and Henderson.

Pilot Officer F. M. H. Henderson, DFM; born Putaruru, 6 Mar 1922; surveyor's assistant; joined RNZAF Jul 1940.

The bomber men saw their share of episode and incident. For example, Flying Officer Smith and his crew were returning from operations over Tripolitania one night when engine trouble forced their Wellington down on the sea; the men spent eighty hours in a dinghy before they finally paddled ashore; then some Arabs helped them to return safely to their base. ‘We were about twenty miles off the coast when we took to the dinghy,’ says Smith. ‘We drifted for a while hoping for rescue, then we started paddling southwards to make sure we did not land in German territory. We divided ourselves in three shifts rowing in pairs continuously until finally we reached the coast. We had been drenched to the skin every night in the dinghy and got little sleep. When we walked ashore, we staggered like drunken men.’

Flying Officer Earl

Squadron Leader R. C. Earl, DFC; born Bristol, England, 6 Jan 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF Mar 1941.

and his crew had a similar experience while operating against Tripoli from Malta. Flying back one night through storms and head winds, their Wellington ran out of fuel and they had to land on the sea. Rough water and gusting winds did not prevent Earl from putting the bomber down successfully and he and his crew were picked up the same morning.

The faithful Wellington— ‘Good old Wimpey’ to its crews—was still the mainstay of the RAF bomber force in the Middle East, but some of our men flew American built aircraft with which certain units were now equipped. For instance, with one Marauder squadron Flight Sergeants Miles,

Flight Sergeant R. G. Miles; born Ashburton, 15 Apr 1922; clerical cadet; joined RNZAF Feb 1941; killed on air operations, 27 Jun 1943.

Freeman,

Flight Lieutenant N. D. Freeman; born Dunedin, 19 Dec 1917; advertising salesman; joined RNZAF May 1941.

McMillan

Flight Sergeant N. A. McMillan; born Thames, 15 Jun 1916; fisherman; joined RNZAF 1 Mar 1941; killed on air operations, 21 Feb 1943.

and Spedding

Flying Officer F. M. Spedding; born Christchurch, 11 Mar 1919; shop assistant; joined RNZAF 13 Apr 1941.

as pilots, and Flying Officer Connell

Flying Officer B. T. Connell; born Christchurch, 19 Dec 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF Sep 1940; killed on air operations, 15 Feb 1943.

as navigator, did good work in reconnaissance and torpedo or bombing attacks against enemy ships. Connell had been with the squadron when it was equipped with Blenheims and had been prominent in operations both over the Western Desert and in night intruder missions against German air bases in Crete. He was lost when his aircraft went missing without trace during a sweep over the Aegean Sea. The Marauders, three carrying torpedoes and six carrying bombs, made one particularly successful attack on the harbour and port installations at Meles Bay in the Dodecanese. Torpedo aircraft scored hits on two large freighters, which blew up and sank, while the bombers hit dock buildings and straddled two smaller cargo ships with their bombs. McMillan's aircraft was badly damaged by flak during this attack and was one of the two aircraft which failed to return.

Sunderland flying-boats of No. 230 Squadron had continued their long patrols over the Mediterranean, but in mid-February 1943 all but three of them were sent south to cover the Indian Ocean approaches to the Red Sea. Of the original group of New Zealanders who had been with the squadron in the earlier years, only navigator Flight Lieutenant R. P. Reid now remained to complete an exceptionally long tour of over two years. Squadron Leader D. N. Milligan, who had earlier completed an eventful period with Sunderlands, now became flight commander in an Australian Baltimore squadron, operating against enemy shipping in the Aegean Sea.

The work of the transport crews deserves special mention. From the start at El Alamein, they flew forward petrol, water, bombs, ammunition and a variety of other stores, and on their return flights carried back casualties to base hospitals; they also made it possible for fighter squadrons to leap ahead in the desert with the minimum of delay. Indeed, without their untiring and devoted efforts, things would have been very different; for instance, there would often have been no water at all for the men at the forward landing grounds. Here are a few extracts from what one New Zealand transport pilot wrote of his experiences at this time:

Everyone up forward was needing supplies and we were determined to see they got them. So night and day the Hudsons plied back and forth with their loads. Early on we helped establish a Hurricane fighter wing far ahead in Cyrenaica to strafe the retreating enemy. Our C.O. went ahead to locate the landing ground (no easy task) and set up some kind of flying control. A few hours later I flew the first Hudson on to that stony, bumpy, strip, and from then on Hudsons and Bombays landed in a steady stream with their cargo of petrol, oil, tentage, ammunition and rations. The next day we picked up the ground crews of the fighter wing. They piled in with all necessary equipment. There was no weighing of anything; it was left to the pilot's good sense to judge when he had enough on board. I fear many a Hudson flew at figures which would startle its makers but there was never an accident attributable to overloading. The Hurricane fighters went with the transports that day and no time was lost in refuelling them on arrival. They did their first operation the same afternoon.

… One day while flying low as usual, I spied two men vigorously waving their shirts in a rather remote part of the desert. Thinking they might be a couple of Huns or Italians who wished to be taken prisoner, I landed on rocky ground about half a mile away. Armed with sten guns we went towards the two waifs who presented a very ragged spectacle. It transpired that one was the wireless operator and the other chap a gunner from a torpedo Wellington which had attacked a tanker in Tobruk the night before the opening of the Alamein offensive. Their aircraft had succumbed to flak and crashed outside Tobruk about dusk. The two lads had travelled one hundred and seventy miles in nineteen days without water, except dew, and only one old tin of bully beef. They were exhausted, so we lost no time in getting them back to base.

As the advance continued, our transports were fully employed moving other squadrons forward to their newly acquired bases or on to new ones rapidly constructed by the Royal Engineers, whose efforts were little short of brilliant. We moved ourselves forward to El Adem, near Tobruk, and continued to operate from there—days and days of petrol to forward army columns at Msus and bombs to Soluch near Benghazi in readiness for the light bombers. Everyone laboured unceasingly, loading and unloading aircraft, very often on two sorties per day.

On one occasion, leading a formation of five Hudsons with an escort of Hurricanes, I set off to deliver eight tons of petrol to a forward army column near Msus. There were thunderstorms and a high wind and I was unable to locate the airfield, famous for its elusiveness to searching aircrews. I located the army column, however, which was passing by an unused Italian

A Hurricane prepares to take off from a desert airfieldBlack and white photograph of a Hurricane plane preparing to take off, with airforce officers standing with tent in the sand

An Australian Gladiator patrol returns to its baseBlack and white photograph of aircraft returning to base in desert

A bomber is re-armedBlack and white photograph of airforce officers re-arming bomber plane in desert

Italian cruiser San Giorgio on fire in Tobruk harbourBlack and white photograph of cruise ship on fire

Derna airfield after an RAF raidBlack and white photograph of planes on airfield after a raid by the Royal Air Force

Flooded ‘bivvy’Black and white photograph of two airforce officers outside a tent looking at flooded ground

Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, AOC-in-C Middle EastBlack and white portrait photograph of airforce Chief Marshal

Air Vice-Marshal Arthur Coningham and Lieutenant-General Sir Bernard MontgomeryBlack and white photograph of two airforce officers looking at plan

Boston bombers take off in formationBlack and white photograph of bomber planes taking off from airfield in V formation

A ‘Shark Squadron’ KittyhawkBlack and white photograph of plane

‘Bombing up’ a HalifaxBlack and white photograph of airforce officers attaching bombs to a plane

Servicing a Wellington bomberBlack and white photograph of airforce officers working on a bomber plane

Salvage convoy drivers wait for their evening mealBlack and white photograph of convoy drivers standing around a camp fire

Beaufighter attacks an enemy train, October 1942Black and white photograph of Beaufighter plane bombing a plane

Salvage crews collect destroyed German aircraft at Daba airfieldBlack and white photograph of airforce officers with salvaged German aircraft parts

Axis transport destroyed on the Derna roadBlack and white photograph of destroyed military transport vehicles

Ploughed-up enemy airfield near Nofilia According to a photographic interpretation officer, three tractors were used: one man ‘was a bit jerky in his driving’, the second ‘ploughed very closely’, and the third ‘was somewhat of an artist’.

Black and white aerial photograph of ploughed up enemy airfield

A Hurricane tank-buster attacks enemy armour in TunisiaBlack and white photograph of Hurricane plane attacking enemy armour

A Baltimore squadron intelligence officer briefs aircrewsBlack and white photograph of pilots sitting around a table, being briefed by squadron intelligence

Arming a Wellington torpedo-bomberBlack and white photograph of airforce officers arming a bomber plane

Grand Harbour, MaltaBlack and white photograph of Malta harbour and shipping docks

The air-raid warning flag flies over the operations room at Luqa airfieldBlack and white photograph of flag being mounted

Spitfires on a Malta airfield. A Beaufighter comes in to landBlack and white photograph of planes lined up on airfield

Air Vice-Marshal Sir Keith Park, AOC-in-C Mediterranean, with men of a Malta bomber crewBlack and white photograph of airforce officer with pilots, standing around bomb shells on the ground

Takali airfield and dispersal areas, April 1942Black and white aerial photograph of airfield and dispersal areas

Baltimores fly in formation to attack gun positions near CassinoBlack and white photograph of planes flying in formation

A bombed railway bridge at ArezzoBlack and white photograph of bombed railway bridge

No. 111 Squadron Spitfires in ItalyBlack and white photograph of spitfire planes on airfield, with crew

Marauder crews in eastern Italy prepare to move offBlack and white photograph of aircraft crews preparing to take off

USAAF bombers attack Naples harbourBlack and white aerial photograph of bomber planes attacking harbour and shipping docks

South African Air Force Beaufighters make a rocket attack on Lussin Island, an enemy base for midget submarinesBlack and white photograph of beaufighter planes attacking a submarine base air strip, so determined to set down there and deliver the goods. As it had been in enemy territory only a few hours earlier, I had a sickening feeling as the wheels touched down that the ground would be mined. But all went well and we unloaded as the Hurricanes waited above. We restarted our engines and were soon back over El Adem in a blinding sandstorm that reduced visibility to less than one hundred yards.

Early in January came orders to move on from El Adem. We arrived at Marble Arch in driving dust, and pitching camp was difficult. The desert was too stony to take tent pegs so it was necessary to dig up sufficient rock, to piles of which we anchored our flimsy homes. These air moves were strenuous; not enough time, not enough trucks, not enough water, not enough energy to last the long day. On one occasion one of our lads took his Hudson down to land just in front of me. There was a healthy sort of explosion as he touched off a mine and the rear of the aircraft disappeared entirely. Tempers sometimes frayed but generally everyone managed at least a show of cheerfulness. At night in the flapping mess tent by the light of Hurricane lamps we ate our meagre fare, but there was a solid feeling of success in this advance across the sands. Tripoli, an image of which everyone conjured up in their minds, was soon going to fall.

New Zealand pilots like Squadron Leader R. J. Chisholm and Flight Lieutenant R. D. Daniell had been among the pioneers of air transport in the Middle East. Now, in this third year, some forty Dominion airmen flew with the squadrons of No. 216 Transport Group while others held ground posts connected with air transport. Chisholm, for example, was attached to Air Vice-Marshal Coningham's headquarters during 1942 as his Air Transport Officer and then took command of a flight; Squadron Leader Neill,

Wing Commander J. R. Neill, m.i.d.; born Dunedin, 11 Feb 1913; army instructor; joined RAF 1937.

Squadron Leader Gow

Wing Commander I. R. Gow; born Wellington, 9 Aug 1917; joined RAF Jun 1938; transferred RNZAF Jan 1944.

and Flight Lieutenant Halse

Flight Lieutenant E. M. Halse; born Carterton, 31 Jan 1917; assistant theatre manager; joined RAF 6 Oct 1938.

were specialist navigation officers, while Flight Lieutenant Stewart

Flight Lieutenant T. A. Stewart, DFC; born Dunedin, 1 Mar 1917; joined RNZAF 17 Sep 1938; joined RAF 9 May 1939; retransferred RNZAF 14 Aug 1945.

commanded one of the staging posts set up to cover North Africa—these staging posts were small units that were stationed at remote airfields to service transport aircraft engaged on long flights between base and forward areas.

Among the men who captained transport aircraft during the advance to Tripoli were Flight Lieutenant Daniell, Flying Officers Gale

Flight Lieutenant D. Gale, DFC; born Dunedin, 28 Apr 1922; mechanical draughtsman; joined RNZAF May 1941.

and New

Flight Lieutenant B. D. New, DFC; born Te Karaka, 30 May 1921; accountant; joined RNZAF 2 Mar 1941.

; they were later to do equally good work in Burma. Three more captains who achieved a fine record were Flight Lieutenant Warden,

Flight Lieutenant G. W. Warden, DFC; born Auckland, 23 Jan 1913; metal worker; joined RNZAF 15 Feb 1941.

Flying Officers Norman

Flight Lieutenant J. H. Norman, DFC; born Tuatapere, 19 Oct 1919; sheep farmer; joined RNZAF 4 May 1941.

and Gibbs,

Flight Lieutenant C. M. Gibbs, DFC; born Wellington, 11 Jun 1921; engineering student; joined RNZAF May 1941.

each of whom was subsequently to carry out many hazardous supply dropping missions over Sicily, Italy and the Balkans. Valuable work was also done by Flight Lieutenant Ford

Flight Lieutenant J. P. Ford, DFC, AFC; born Ohakune, 16 Jun 1921; customs officer; joined RNZAF May 1941.

and by Flying Officer Culliford.

Flight Lieutenant S. G. Culliford, DSO, Virtuti Militari (Pol); born Napier, 18 Mar 1920; student; joined RNZAF May 1941.

Brilliant successes in air supply operations were to be reserved for other theatres of war, but it was in the Middle East that RAF Air Transport made a firm beginning; indeed it was on the experience gained in the desert campaigns and the difficulties there overcome that the subsequent achievements were largely based. Meanwhile the efforts of the transport crews did not pass unnoticed. Here is a tribute to one phase of their work from 2 New Zealand Division:

Would you please convey to the air units involved the gratitude of the New Zealand Division for their help and co-operation during the recent fighting. The total of 420 cases safely evacuated by air from a position in close proximity to the enemy and virtually behind his lines would appear to be the largest undertaking of its kind so far in this theatre of war. By cutting out a journey of one hundred and sixty miles over rough desert tracks it must have saved many lives and spared our wounded a great deal of suffering and so contributed to their earlier recovery. The work of the pilots in landing all types of planes on improvised airfields under extremely bad conditions was most praiseworthy. May I also express my gratitude for the immediate response to all requests for assistance and supplies of blood and other stores which contributed greatly to the solving of our difficulties.

Operations Record, No. 216 Group, April 1943: letter from Colonel F. P. Furkert, NZ Medical Corps.

* * * * *

At dawn on 23 January 1943, just three months to the day since the Eighth Army had joined battle at El Alamein, the first British troops entered Tripoli. At the same time RAF advanced parties took over Castel Benito airfield outside the city. Together, our land and air forces had now advanced over the desert for 1400 miles—a distance roughly equal to that from Moscow to Berlin. It was a remarkable achievement and one of which both soldiers and airmen, their clothes and bodies alike stained with the desert dust, could be justly proud. Their ordeals, as they were well aware, were far from ended but the Western Desert over which they had fought so long lay behind them and a country of green mountains lay ahead. And now as they prepared to move forward into Tunisia, they carried with them memories of battles fought and won, of the hardships and comradeship of desert life and also, perhaps, of smaller things—a dispersal of tents in the brightness of the moon, men's voices singing, the sandy flavour of bully beef and hot tea, the sudden roar of engines warming up at dawn, the kicked-back wakes of sand from spinning airscrews, the lift and climb into the desert air.

For the capture of Tripoli marked the end of a definite phase in the African campaign. Eighth Army and Desert Air Force now became one jaw of an enormous pincers that was closing on Rommel's forces; the other was provided by the Allied forces under General Eisenhower which had landed in the western Mediterranean and were now moving forward across Algeria.

CHAPTER 5Algeria and Tunisia

THE landings in French North Africa took place on 8 November 1942, just sixteen days after the launching of the British offensive at El Alamein. Both American and British forces were employed in this great amphibious adventure, known as Operation torch, the aim of which was to occupy bases in North-west Africa and then advance on Tunisia to take Rommel's forces in the rear. For political reasons—the attitude of the local French leaders towards the British was anything but friendly—an American, Lieutenant-General Eisenhower, had been chosen to command the expedition and United States forces were sent ashore at Casablanca and Oran and initially at Algiers; but since British commanders and troops had had fighting experience, the British component was sent to the most easterly sector at Algiers in order to make the first advance into Tunisia. Strategically it would have been desir able to make the initial landings farther east but shortage of shipping and concern for the security of communications precluded this; the Royal Navy, which was providing surface escort, was also opposed to any landings being made east of Algiers because of the danger from German bombers in Sardinia and Sicily.

The huge convoys—in all some 500 merchant vessels and 350 war ships were involved—that sailed from the United Kingdom and the United States towards the end of October reached the Straits of Gibraltar unscathed, thanks to the unfailing efforts of the Royal Navy and Coastal Command and to the amazing success of our deception measures. The latter misled the enemy more completely than we had dared to hope. When the expedition was being assembled the Germans thought we were preparing to invade Norway, and when it entered the Mediterranean they assumed, as we intended, that it was bound for Malta. But we could not count on this happening so elaborate measures had been taken to safeguard the convoys during their passage. Indeed, all our resources were at full strain. Far to the north aircraft and warships watched the Denmark Strait and the exits from the North Sea to guard against intervention by enemy surface ships. Others covered the American approach from the Azores. Anglo-American bombers attacked the U-boat bases along the French Atlantic coast and Coastal Command aircraft patrolled to seaward.

Good fortune continued to favour the operation and convoys reached the assault areas with the loss of only one ship. Aircraft from Gibraltar did particularly valuable work by protecting them from air and U-boat attack. Indeed, our air base at Gibraltar was the key to the success of the whole enterprise. For without it our fighter squadrons could not have been quickly established in North Africa to provide the vital air cover. Moreover, in the early days of the invasion, ‘Gib’ airfield had necessarily to serve both as an operational base and as a staging point for aircraft making the passage from England to the African mainland. Several weeks before the actual assault it was crowded with fighter aircraft; and now every inch was taken up by either a Spitfire or a can of petrol. Fortunately the need had been foreseen, and during the previous months devoted efforts of the Royal Engineers had not only transformed the landing strip into a fully-tarmacked runway 100 yards wide and 1400 yards long—nearly a third of it protruding into the sea—but had also enlarged and resurfaced the dispersal areas alongside until they could take some six hundred aircraft. The airfield at Gibraltar, however, had one great disadvantage in that it lay on the Spanish border. Enemy agents could thus clearly see and report all this activity in the early days of November 1942; but fortunately, as already indicated, they failed to discern its true import.

The opposition to the landings proved less formidable than was expected. Algiers capitulated first; the port installations were found intact, the authorities readily co-operated and labour was soon available; and within a few hours RAF fighters were operating from the airfields at Maison Blanche and Blida. During the succeeding days further ports and bases in eastern Algeria were occupied by our troops without serious opposition and the building up of the British First Army was at once initiated in the Bone area. Stronger resistance was encountered by the assault forces at Oran and Casablanca but in a short time these ports, too, had been captured. Prompt action by General Eisenhower led to a pact with the French political leader, Admiral Darlan, and by 13 November all French resistance in Morocco and Algeria had ceased,

The delicate and difficult moves in the political game are described by General Eisenhower in his Crusade in Europe, Chap. XI.

Thus the expedition's first objective, a secure North African base, was quickly achieved.

But the Germans, although completely surprised by our descent upon North Africa, reacted swiftly. On the very morrow of the Allied landings German fighters, bombers and transports, the latter loaded with troops, began putting down at El Aouina, the airport of Tunis. Here they received an official welcome; for representatives of Marshal Pétain's French Government, which had tried hard to keep the Allies out of Morocco and Algeria, now let the Germans into Tunisia un opposed. On 10 November our reconnaissance detected 115 enemy air craft on the ground at Tunis, while at the airfield of Bizerta air trans- portstransports were beginning to arrive at the rate of fifty a day; and to this traffic was soon added a continuous and much heavier stream of reinforcement by sea. By the 16th, the enemy already had approximately 5000 troops available to provide a protective screen for his Tunisian bridgehead, and detachments were soon pushed out to cover the approaches to Bizerta and Tunis. During the next few days, the ports and airfields at Sousse, Sfax and Gabes were occupied; by the end of the month the enemy force in Tunisia amounted to some 15,000 fighting troops with 100 tanks, 60 field guns and 30 anti-tank guns.

Meanwhile, practically the entire German Mediterranean Air Force had been concentrated in Sardinia and Sicily and fighters and dive-bombers quickly established on Tunis airfields. Italian reinforcements of fighters and torpedo–bombers were also sent to Sardinia and some fighters joined the German contingent at Tunis. Thus, in spite of our air and sea attacks on his shipping and the bombing of his ports, the enemy rapidly succeeded in building a formidable force in northern Tunisia and in occupying the entire eastern coast. It was clear that Hitler had at last decided to give serious attention to Africa. All that he had denied to Rommel when the latter stood some chance of success, the German leader was now to pour into Tunisia. Far, far too late he had seen the red light. If he failed to hold a bridgehead in North Africa the Anglo–American armies might well walk into his ‘Fortress Europe’ by the back door.

Following the capture of Algiers, leading elements of the British First Army under Lieutenant–General Anderson had pushed eastwards in a desperate endeavour to overrun Tunisia before the enemy could transport sufficient troops to the scene to defend it. The distance from Algiers to Tunis is 560 miles; almost the whole of this region is very mountainous and it was then served by only two winding roads and an indifferent railway. Yet the First Army succeeded in advancing, by 28 November, to within sixteen miles of Tunis. But the race was already lost. At this point the Germans counter–attacked strongly with their tanks and dive–bombers; the latter were able to operate from good airfields only a short distance in the rear while our own fighter bases were as yet out of range. After a very gallant effort General Anderson's forces were therefore compelled to withdraw to Medjez el Bab, where they proceeded to build up their strength and improve their communications.

American troops and armour now gradually moved up from the west and French forces, which had thrown in their lot with the Allies, took up positions on the southern flank. But the military and political problems involved in the deployment of this Allied army with its diverse elements were acute; moreover, the appalling winter weather which now set in, and the continuing supply difficulties, combined to prevent the mounting of a new offensive. Indeed, for the next two months, the Allied troops were to be kept fully occupied in consolidating the northern sector and in beating off enemy attempts to get round their southern flank.

Both British and American squadrons—the former organised in an Eastern Air Command and the latter as Twelfth Air Force—were now operating in North–west Africa. Fighters protected the supply ports and patrolled over the forward areas; fighter–bombers helped the advancing ground forces and both medium and heavy bombers attacked enemy airfields and landing grounds in Tunisia. Transport, maritime reconnaissance and photographic aircraft also played their part. But, as with the Army, there were many difficulties during the initial stages which prevented full–scale operation of all the available units. The build–up of equipment, stores, services and maintenance facilities was slow, since almost everything had to be brought in by sea. More particularly, the absence of good airfields, the poor communications and the lack of any real integration of the different national forces, all tended to reduce the efficiency of the air effort. Most of the landing grounds did not have hard runways and they were soon turned to quagmires by the heavy winter rains. Efforts were made to lay steel matting but some 2000 tons of this—or two days' carrying capacity of the entire railway system in the forward area—were required for a single runway, and even when laid the steel matting tended simply to disappear into the mud.

The lack of airfields soon proved the greatest handicap to providing adequate support for the forward troops. Our advanced lines might be only a score of miles outside Tunis but our nearest airfield was still at Souk el Arba, sixty miles farther back. On it were soon crowded— apart from American aircraft which followed later—five squadrons of Spitfires; and maintenance facilities were such that, among them, the five squadrons could rarely muster more than forty–five serviceable aircraft. The small RAF bomber force, consisting of four squadrons of Bisleys, had to operate until the early days of December from as far back as Blida, outside Algiers. The enemy, on the other hand, had the advantage of concrete–surfaced airfields close to the battle area, and to which reinforcements could be flown from Sicily in thirty minutes in any weather. Consequently, in the first weeks of the campaign, our advanced troops were exposed to attacks from enemy dive–bombers which our fighters, with their bases so far back, were unable to prevent; indeed, up to mid–December, the Spitfires could only spend five or ten minutes of their patrol over our forward lines. Fortunately the enemy air attack, as General Alexander has recorded, was not on a serious scale when judged by the standards of later campaigns. But to inexperienced troops, it seemed terrific when there were no friendly fighters close at hand to be whistled up to drive off the offenders, and when there was also a shortage of light anti–aircraft ground weapons.

At the time there was criticism of the lack of air support. Some of it was perhaps justified, but many of the critics failed to appreciate the very great difficulties under which the air forces were labouring and the valiant efforts which were, in fact, being made to help the ground forces. For example, one day early in December, No. 18 Squadron, RAF, was ordered to bomb the enemy landing ground at Chouigui. Eleven Bisleys duly prepared to take off. One was held back by a burst tyre and another crash–landed after a few minutes' flight, but the remaining nine got under way successfully. Their task, the crews knew, would be far from enviable; the landing ground would be hotly defended, but since our Spitfires were fully occupied trying to protect our troops, the mission would have to be flown without escort; they would have no support other than a fighter sweep over the general area of the operation. As the Bisleys approached the target area their pilots saw a few of our Spitfires engaged high up with a swarm of Messerschmitts. Then the Germans dived down—some fifty or sixty of them—and within a few seconds our crews were fighting for their lives. One by one the Bisleys were hacked down until only four remained; these four, still maintaining formation, managed to reach our lines only to be shot down within sight of our troops.

Almost the last to survive was the aircraft of Wing Commander H. G. Malcolm, who led the raid. For his determination in trying to fight his squadron through to its objective he was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross. His name is commemorated in the Royal Air Force Malcolm Clubs, the first of which was opened some months later in Algiers.

During the second month of the campaign things gradually began to improve. New landing grounds were under construction in the forward area and others were being provided with hard all–weather runways. The United States Twelfth Air Force, handicapped by its initial deployment so far west, was now playing a major part in the Tunisian battle. Some American fighters were based at Souk el Arba behind the main battlefront in the north, while others were supporting their troops moving forward in the centre and south. And American long–range bombers were stepping up their attacks on Tunisian ports and airfields. The effort of Eastern Air Command also increased steadily. During the first half of January, its RAF Spitfires averaged over one hundred sorties a day and thereafter, with the arrival of reinforcements, this figure was doubled. And with this mounting Allied air effort the co–operation between Army and Air Force grew closer and more satisfactory. ‘Good–will there was in plenty,’ writes General Anderson, ‘and with increasing experience and, above all, improved means of inter–communication, the situation improved. By mid–March 1943, liaison was excellent; we were working as one team and the air support given to First Army in the last stages was intimate, immediate and intensely powerful.’

The failure to capture Tunis in the first rush was a serious setback to Allied hopes and plans. All the same, the situation developing in North Africa at the end of 1942 gave the enemy little cause for satisfaction. For, in addition to the Allied invasion of Tunisia from the west, British land and air forces under Montgomery and Coningham, following their victorious advance from Egypt, were now closing in from the east. With their capture of Tripoli, Rommel had been forced back to the Mareth Line, a belt of fortifications built by the French to protect the Tunisian frontier; by mid–February 1943, advanced troops of Montgomery's Eighth Army had come up with the enemy rearguard at Ben Gardane. Bitterly contested battles might remain to be fought but the eventual link–up of the two Allied armies and their final conquest of Tunisia seemed reasonably certain.

For the better co–ordination of the Allied effort, General Eisenhower now assumed overall command in North Africa; General Alexander became his deputy and took charge of all the land forces. At the same time a new Mediterranean Air Command embracing all the Allied air forces in Tunisia, Malta and Tripolitania was established under Air Chief Marshal Tedder; and within this command there was created, under the leadership of Air Vice–Marshal Coningham, a single North-west African Tactical Air Force to lend close support to both the Army and Navy. Like other subordinate air commands, this was a genuine Anglo–American entity since it comprised not only the British Desert Air Force and RAF units from Eastern Air Command, but also the tactical squadrons from the United States Twelfth Air Force. Similarly, British and American maintenance units were now combined to form an Air Service Command. This mingling of British and American units and of their officers and men at all levels was a novel and remarkable feature at this period of the war; but it soon proved wholly beneficial. Indeed, it was here in North Africa that British and American servicemen first came to know each other, and by their mutual understanding and respect to lay the foundations for Anglo–American co–operation in the later campaigns.

With the air forces the effect of the reorganisation was immediate and profound. Besides putting at the top men with the requisite ability and experience, it made possible that high degree of flexibility which characterises correctly organised air power. Under Tedder's direction the air forces in the Mediterranean could now be concentrated to the confusion of the enemy at decisive points–whether at the fronts or along the lines of land and sea communications, or far back among the

THE CAMPAIGN IN TUNISIA, MARCH – MAY 1943Black and white diagram showing campaign in Tunisia airfields, ports and bases of Italy. In all circumstances the total force, no longer tied down to particular geographical sectors, could be directed without argument or delay according to a single coherent plan.

The fight for Tunisia began in earnest during February 1943. And as might be expected, it was Rommel who struck first—against the American forces that had moved into central Tunisia and, by occupying Gafsa, threatened his link with von Arnim's army in the north. Employing his formidable 21 Panzer Division, he drove the Americans back and broke through the Kasserine Pass. Succeeding wonderfully at first, this thrust looked like taking our whole northern front in the rear, but it soon met with such fierce opposition that Rommel was compelled to withdraw. Our tactical air forces under Coningham played an important part in forcing this withdrawal, but the decisive factors were the resolute action taken by General Alexander and the stubborn defence offered by our ground forces. Rommel then turned his armour south and, on 6 March, flung it against Montgomery's Eighth Army at Medenine; but in the face of solid resistance on the ground and persistent attack from the air, this assault met with instant failure and the enemy force retired, discomfitted, leaving behind no fewer than fifty–two tanks. This battle of Medenine was Rommel's last throw and shortly afterwards, a sick and disillusioned man, he flew back to Germany.

Meanwhile, on the northern sector in Tunisia, attacks by von Arnim's army had been frustrated after some hard fighting in which the tactical air forces played a prominent part. During the first five days of March one RAF group flew over 1000 sorties against ground targets; frequent attacks both by fighters and bombers on landing grounds ruthlessly cut down the activity of the German fighter force; constant raids behind the enemy front also played havoc with his transport and supplies.

The initiative on land now passed to the Allies and in mid–March their armies began to close the ring. Progress on the northern front was at first slow, but in the south a spectacular victory was achieved by turning the Mareth Line. This move, in which the New Zealand Division played a prominent part, was made possible by the fact that our domination of the skies was now almost complete. Both before and during the assault at Mareth, attacks on enemy airfields kept the Luftwaffe virtually grounded and our troops were able to move forward unmolested from the air. The desert squadrons also played an important part in the land battle. When the outflanking force was held up south of El Hamma—the crucial obstacle was the narrow gap between the Djebel Tebaga and the Djebel Melab, only four miles wide and bristling with enemy guns—a truly formidable air blitz was laid on against the enemy positions. Three squadrons of escorted bombers opened the attack, coming in very low by an unusual route and achieving complete surprise. From then on two and a half squadrons of Kitty–bombers, briefed first to bomb individual positions and then to shoot up the enemy gun teams, were directed to the area every fifteen minutes. Half an hour after the first bomb fell the New Zealand infantry went forward, preceded by a creeping barrage which gave pilots an unmistakable bomb line; and all the time Spitfires patrolling high above kept the air clear of the enemy. More than once the enemy attempted to mass his tanks, but on each sign of this Hurricane ‘tank–busters’ swept in and broke up the concentration. ‘The battlefield and the rear areas were covered with smoking and burning vehicles,’ writes Montgomery's Chief of Staff. ‘Never before had our Desert Air Force given us such superb, such gallant and such intimate support.’ And so it was. Within just over two hours the supporting squadrons, at a cost of eleven pilots, had flown 412 sorties; and the enemy defenders, disorganised and demoralised, had yielded the key points to our troops. Our armour passed through the bottleneck virtually unscathed and the Mareth Line was turned.

The Eighth Army thereupon followed up rapidly to Wadi Akarit, another position of great natural strength, but here the enemy stay was brief. By the end of April his forces, fiercely attacked on the ground and mercilessly hammered from the air, were in full retreat. Not until they had covered the entire coastal plain and reached the high ground beyond Enfidaville, more than 150 miles to the north, did they stop. Important airfields now fell into our hands, notably the group near Kairouan, which brought the Allied tactical air forces in North Africa within striking distance of any target in that part of Tunisia which still remained to the enemy. At the same time the Eighth Army was able to join up on the left with the American troops, so linking the Allied ground forces in one continuous front.

All this while the medium and heavy bombers, including those now based at Malta, had continued to attack the ports and airfields of Tunisia, Sardinia, Sicily and southern Italy. In conjunction with the Coastal Air Force, they were also waging a determined campaign against enemy convoys. Until mid–February many enemy vessels were able to slip across the narrow seas between Sicily and Tunisia under cover of thick weather, but with clearer skies such attempts became increasingly hazardous. During March, in spite of fierce opposition in the air, British and American aircraft sank no fewer than twenty German and Italian ships making for Tunisia. At the same time our own vessels, protected by the vigilance of our air and naval forces, were able to carry supplies to Bone and Tripoli almost with impunity.

By the beginning of April, the bombing of Tunis, Bizerta and the south Italian ports, coupled with increasing success against convoys at sea, had brought the enemy supply system to the verge of collapse. In these desperate straits he began to make still greater use of air transport, flying a daily average of something like 150 sorties on the routes to Tunisia. It availed him little since our air forces played havoc with this traffic. On 5 April, for example, twenty–six German aircraft were destroyed in the air and thirty–nine on the ground, besides damage to another sixty–seven; the Italian losses are unknown. A few days later, British and American fighters sweeping over the Narrows shot down twenty–four German Ju52s and fourteen escorts; many of the transports were carrying fuel and they blew up in spectacular fashion. There was further slaughter on 18 April when RAF Spitfires and American Warhawks intercepted about one hundred Ju52s under escort near Cape Bon. Within a few seconds the shore below was strewn with blazing wreckage, fifty–two German machines being destroyed for the loss on the Allied side of seven. The next day our fighters massacred yet another formation and thereafter the enemy confined his transports to minor operations by night. On 22 April, however, he rashly committed a consignment of petrol to Messerschmitt 323s—huge six-engined glider–type aircraft. Intercepted over the Gulf of Tunis by large forces of Spitfires and Kittyhawks, the enemy formation was mown down almost to the last aircraft. In less than three weeks, according to German records, well over one hundred German transport aircraft had been destroyed for the loss of thirty–five aircraft on our side. Coming hard on top of an equally prodigal expenditure at Stalingrad, this was a grievous blow to the enemy transport fleets as well as to their hopes of staving off defeat in Tunisia.

The last phase of the land campaign opened on 20 April with an attack by the Eighth Army at Enfidaville. The enemy positions were captured after hard fighting, but the mountains beyond proved a more difficult proposition and the advance slowed down. This mattered little, however, since General Alexander had already planned to deliver his main blow against Tunis on the northern sector, where the First Army along with the Americans and French had been steadily pressing forward during the past month despite repeated counter–attacks. Here, on 5 May, the final advance began under close and heavy support from Coningham's tactical air force, which flew over one thousand sorties a day—bombers and fighter–bombers attacking troop positions and fighters maintaining complete mastery over the battlefield. British forces, including Eighth Army formations transferred to this sector, quickly broke through enemy defences in front of Tunis and then, after occupying the town, wheeled east and broke through strong positions at Hammamet to reach the Cape Bon peninsula. Meanwhile American forces had smashed their way into Bizerta. Within a week the enemy had no intact formations, except those facing the Eighth Army, and these were now taken in the rear. One by one units surrendered until, on 13 May, the whole force was ordered to lay down its arms.

In addition to vast quantities of arms and equipment, almost all the enemy troops remaining in Tunisia—just over 250,000—were now captured; for when the remnants of the German and Italian armies reached the beaches on the Cape Bon peninsula, they found no boats— nor any aircraft either. In the face of our air and naval control of the narrow seas, Hitler and Mussolini had wisely decided not to attempt a ‘Dunkirk’. Had they done so they would have immediately brought into operation an elaborate series of counter–measures already devised by our air and naval commanders under the rather appropriate code-name ofretribution. In the circumstances our air forces were able to turn their attention to targets in Sicily, Italy and Pantellaria in preparation for the next stage in Allied strategy.

So ended the war in Africa—a war which, though the numbers engaged were small compared with the vast armies on the Russian front, was yet of profound strategic significance. For the whole of the southern coast of the Mediterranean had been cleared of the enemy and its northern shores were now open to assault; Allied shipping, although still not entirely immune from air and U–boat attack, could now move more freely between Gibraltar and Alexandria. Moreover, the long years of fighting in North Africa had broken the spirit and power of Italy, and although the effect on Germany was less severe, it was quite considerable; she had also lost some of her best fighting troops and her air force had been badly mauled. On the Allied side much had been learnt that was to be of the greatest value in the future, especially the technique and experience of co–operation between the two great nations and between their land, sea and air forces. There had also emerged not only skilled and seasoned Allied soldiers and airmen, but also highly competent Allied staffs and commanders, all of whom were soon destined to win a campaign of far greater import in Europe. Victory would certainly not have crowned that campaign so swiftly or at such little cost but for the lessons learned amid the rocks and sand of North Africa.

During the long campaign the Royal Air Force, including men and squadrons from the Dominion air forces, had played a vital, perhaps a decisive part. It had won the freedom of the skies against fierce opposition; it had kept the enemy short of supplies while safeguarding our own; it had preserved the Eighth Army in retreat and speeded it in advance. At every stage from the first attack on Italian landing grounds that morning in June 1940 to the last raid at Bou Ficha on 12 May 1943, the aircrews and ground staff of the RAF had shown indomitable spirit. And as Tedder told them in his final Order of the Day, they had now ‘by magnificent team work …. together with their comrades on land and sea thrown the enemy out of Africa.’ They had ‘shown the world the unity and strength of air power’ and after ‘a grand job well finished they faced their next task with the knowledge that they had thrashed the enemy and were determined to thrash him again.’

* * * * *

Through these months when the enemy was being finally driven out of Africa, New Zealanders shared in all phases of the air activity; they flew as fighter pilots, as bomber captains and aircrew, with the maritime reconnaissance squadrons and as pilots of photographic, transport and air–sea rescue machines; they also flew some of the ‘special duty’ aircraft which, among other things, continued to supply the resistance movements in southern Europe, especially the gallant band of patriots fighting under Marshal Tito in Yugoslavia. There was, moreover, a small group of men, about ninety in all, who did valuable work in various ground duties, notably as radar mechanics and fitter-armourers. By mid–1943 a total of 750 New Zealand airmen had seen service with the RAF in the Middle East, of whom 115 had lost their lives.

A relatively large number of men held positions of leadership during the North African campaign and it is particularly interesting to record that two of the main Allied operational commands were, in fact, held by Dominion airmen: Air Vice–Marshal Coningham directed the North–west African Tactical Air Forces and Air Vice–Marshal Park was in control of all RAF operations from Malta. During the battle for Tunisia, Coningham worked in close collaboration with General Alexander, commander of the Allied ground forces, and in his despatch Alexander pays high tribute to Coningham's handling of the tactical air operations and to the invaluable support that his formations gave to the Army. Sir Keith Park's conduct of air operations from Malta, both in support of the invasion of French North Africa and the advance of the Eighth Army into Tunisia, earned equal praise.

Nine of the fighter and bomber squadrons which fought in North Africa were commanded by New Zealanders. Experienced pilots also occupied senior posts in the various air commands, notably Group Captain H. D. McGregor at Headquarters Mediterranean Air Forces, Group Captain E. W. Whitley in charge of a fighter group, Group Captain Anderson

Group Captain L. H. Anderson; born Lower Hutt, 5 Aug 1910; joined RAF 1930; permanent commission 1936; commanded No. 217 Sqdn 1940; commanded No. 1 EFTS, South Africa, 1941; CFI No. 4 SFTS, South Africa, 1941–42; commanded Wings in Middle East, 1942–43; SASO No. 201 Group, Middle East, 1943; commanded No. 247 Wing, Middle East, 1943–44; RAF Station, Berka, 1944; No. 4 Combined Air Observation, Navigation and Bombing School, South Africa, 1941–44; SASO No. 25 Group, 1944–45.

commanding a wing in the Coastal Air Forces, and Group Captain Knight

Group Captain M. W. B. Knight, DFC, Legion of Merit (US); RAF; born Dannevirke, 8 Jul 1916; joined RAF 1935; commanded No. 485 (NZ) Sqdn 1941; Operations Staff, HQ NWAAF, 1943; Planning Staff, HQ MAAF, 1944; commanded RAF Stations, Ismailia and Ramat David, 1945.

controlling fighter operations at Head- quartersHeadquarters Eastern Air Command; and in the administrative and supply organisation there were men like Wing Commander Arnott,

Wing Commander A. E. Arnott, OBE; born Palmerston North, 19 Feb 1917; clerk, P & T Dept; joined RAF Aug 1939; permanent commission RAF Sep 1945.

serving as Senior Equipment Officer for a fighter group; Wing Commander Willcox,

Wing Commander H. L. Willcox; born Invercargill, 7 Nov 1907; joined RAF 1935; permanent commission 1938; staff duties, DGMS, Air Ministry, 1940–42; SMO No. 153 Wing, 1942; SMO No. 17 Group, 1942; DPMO, AHQ North Africa, 1943–44; DPMO, HQ Med. and ME, 1944; DPMO, HQ Coastal Command, 1945.

a medical officer in Eastern Air Command, and Flight Lieutenant Heazlewood,

Squadron Leader C. R. Heazlewood, MBE; born Dunedin, 19 Dec 1914; fitter and turner; joined RAF Dec 1939.

engineer officer at an important maintenance unit.

Dominion airmen were in action during the initial stages of the invasion of French North Africa. Flying Hudsons on anti–submarine patrols from Gibraltar and subsequently from Blida in North Africa, Squadron Leader Patterson,

Squadron Leader I. C. Patterson, DSO, m.i.d.; born Auckland, 19 Aug 1917; farming and electrical engineering; joined RAF 15 Mar 1939; transferred RNZAF 1 Dec 1943; Atlantic Ferry 1940–41; Operations Staff, Azores, 1943–44.

Flight Lieutenant Holmes

Squadron Leader H. G. Holmes, DFC and bar; born Rangiora, 31 Aug 1916; farmer; joined RAF Jun 1939

and Flying Officers Ensor,

Wing Commander M. A. Ensor, DSO and bar, DFC and bar; born Rangiora, 5 Jan 1922; shepherd; joined RNZAF Jul 1940; commanded No. 224 Sqdn 1945.

Mitchell

Wing Commander I. R. Mitchell, DFC; born Napier, 24 Jun 1916; farmer; joined RNZAF Dec 1940.

and Poole

Flight Lieutenant H. A. Poole, DFC; born Invercargill, 6 Mar 1920; clerk; joined RNZAF 13 Feb 1940.

had particularly good hunting. Just before the actual landings, Poole attacked two U–boats in the course of a single patrol; Patterson shared in the destruction of another and Ensor blew one to pieces off Algiers in what has been described as the most spectacular U–boat attack of the whole war. Holmes made five damaging attacks in thirteen days. Indeed, the effort and achievement of these men during the first month were truly remarkable and they resulted in Ensor and Patterson being made members of the Distinguished Service Order, and Holmes, Poole and Mitchell receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross.

Details of their exploits have already been recorded in Volume I, Chapter 14.

Long–range Hurricane fighters also helped to escort convoys. One day Sergeant Ashworth

Flying Officer C. P. Ashworth; born Eketahuna, 25 Sep 1921; clerk; joined RNZAF Jun 1941; killed on air operations, 3 Aug 1944.

of No. 253 Squadron sighted a Ju88 attempting to attack some of our ships. He dived on to its tail and opened fire, then had to break away as bits and pieces flew around him. Both engines of the bomber caught fire and it crashed into the sea. Ashworth's squadron was among the first to operate from North Africa; the Hurricanes actually flew into the airfield at Maison Blanche within an hour of its capture and at once continued their long–range fighter patrols over shipping in the approaches to Algiers and along the coast.

Squadron Leader Carlson

Wing Commander D. C. Carlson, DFC; RAF; born Owhango, 4 Oct 1912; joined RAF 1937; commanded No. 154 Sqdn 1942; RAF Station, Bone, MAAF, 1944; staff duty, Operations, AHQ Levant, Middle East, 1945.

led one of the first Spitfire squadrons that flew in from Gibraltar to operate in defence of bases and ports and subsequently in support of General Anderson's First Army. Carlson and his pilots had already done good work with Fighter Command in the United Kingdom and they set about their new duties with zeal and confidence; in their first fortnight's operations they claimed nineteen enemy bombers destroyed, three more probably destroyed and six damaged. It was during this period that Flying Officer ‘Paddy’ Chambers,

Flight Lieutenant H. W. Chambers, DFC; born Opotiki, 24 Feb 1915; farmer; joined RNZAF Nov 1940.

who flew with Carlson, performed one of the outstanding individual feats of the campaign by shooting down four enemy bombers in a single sortie. This was on 28 November when he was patrolling over a convoy off Algiers. Five Italian Savoia 79s approached to bomb the ships, but Chambers came in from above and behind and attacked four of them in turn before his aircraft was damaged and ammunition exhausted; the fifth Italian bomber was last seen scurrying out to sea.

Two other Spitfire pilots prominent in the early weeks of the campaign were Flight Lieutenant Henry

Squadron Leader D. J. V. Henry, DFC; born Invercargill, 5 Feb 1916; clerk; joined RNZAF Jan 1940; prisoner of war, 10 Feb 1945.

and Flying Officer Porteous

Squadron Leader J. K. Porteous, DFC; born Auckland, 4 Nov 1916; salesman; joined RNZAF 9 Apr 1940; commanded No. 122 Sqdn 1944.

with No. 93 Squadron; Henry served as flight commander. The work of Flight Lieutenant Buchanan

Wing Commander R. C. Buchanan, DFC, Air Medal (US); born Mataura, 15 May 1921; civil engineering cadet; joined RNZAF Apr 1941; commanded No. 682 (PR) Sqdn 1944–45; Wing Leader No. 336 PR Wing, 1945.

who flew a photographic Spitfire also deserves mention. His highly successful flights over North Africa won him the United States Air Medal, the first such award made to a British pilot in this theatre.

Squadron Leader Player

Wing Commander J. H. Player, DSO, DFC; born Auckland, 13 Jul 1914; joined RAF 1937; commanded No. 255 Sqdn 1942–43; Personal Staff Officer, AOC–in–C, AEAF, 1944–45; staff duties, DG of P, Air Ministry, 1945; died of injuries received in flying accident, 8 Aug 1947.

achieved a fine record of service with No. 255 Squadron. This was one of the two squadrons of twin–engined Beaufighters that arrived from England a few days after the landings to provide night defence of our ports and bases in Algeria. Shortly after No. 255 Squadron's arrival, Player took a detachment to operate from the landing ground at Souk el Arba, just over the Tunisian border and close to our front line. The detachment had practically no ground staff at first and a large amount of the normal maintenance work had to be done by the pilots and observers themselves. Yet Player kept his Beaufighters flying and in the first fortnight they claimed the destruction of sixteen enemy aircraft. Player himself had an exceptional sortie one night early in December when he shot down three bombers within an hour; one of them was a Heinkel and the other two were Savoia 79s. With the advent of winter—and it was particularly bitter in North Africa that year—the night flying tended to become a long, cold, unrewarding task, and the Beaufighters, each weighing ten tons, were not easy to fly from the short bumpy runways where the flare–paths— flickering oil lamps shielded by petrol tins—were virtually invisible from 500 feet. Moreover, the mountains rising steeply inland did not allow for much inaccuracy in navigation, but the squadron continued to exploit its advantage of surprise and the ports of Algiers and Bone were soon safe by night.

Among the fighter pilots who flew tactical reconnaissance in support of the First Army's advance into Tunisia were Flying Officers Neill

Flight Lieutenant K. P. F. Neill, DFC; born Christchurch, 17 Nov 1920; shepherd; joined RNZAF 3 Jan 1941.

and Short

Flight Lieutenant S. A. H. Short, DFC; born Auckland, 17 Jun 1916; railway porter; joined RNZAF 23 Mar 1941; prisoner of war 2 Feb 1943; escaped and reached neutral territory 4 Apr 1944.

of No. 225 Hurricane Squadron. Apart from the difficulties of operating from bases far to the rear, the pilots had to face sharp enemy opposition in the air. Their Hurricanes were not only heavily outnumbered but were also outmatched in performance by most of the fighters the enemy was operating. Early in December Short was shot down in an encounter with six Messerschmitts, but although wounded managed to get back to his base, seventy miles away, the same day. Two months later he was again shot down, this time well behind the enemy lines, where he was promptly captured and sent to a prisoner– of–war camp at Modena in Italy. But there his stay was brief. Early in September 1943 he escaped in company with two other New Zealanders, Lieutenant D. W. Hodge, 2 NZEF,

Capt D. W. Hodge; Timaru; born Wanganui, 30 Jul 1920; salesman; prisoner of war, 15 Jul 1942.

and Flying Officer Duncan.

Flight Lieutenant W.R. Duncan; born Stirling, 19 Nov 1917; clerk; joined RNZAF 19 Jan 1941; prisoner of war 13 Sep 1942; safe in neutral territory 5 Apr 1944. Duncan had been captured just before the Battle of El Alamein. Returning from a bombing raid, engine failure had compelled his aircraft to force–land some sixty miles south of Mersa Matruh. He had walked for six days with very little food and water before he was captured.

Italian civilians gave them clothes and bicycles on which they got away to the hills. Here they spent the winter in precarious circumstances— some partisans with whom they made contact were ambushed by the Germans and lost half their number—but eventually, in the spring of 1944 when travelling conditions improved, Short and Duncan were able to move north and, after a hazardous crossing of the Alps, reached Switzerland and freedom. Hodge was recaptured.

* * * * *

As the campaign in Tunisia progressed, fighter pilots were kept busy in patrol and attack against enemy formations and in support of our ground forces. Flying Officer Hardy

Flight Lieutenant O. L. Hardy, DFC and bar; born Auckland, 31 Jul 1922; mechanical engineer; joined RNZAF Mar 1941.

had a particularly successful career with No. 72 Spitfire Squadron, winning both the Distinguished Flying Cross and bar. He not only destroyed several enemy aircraft but also took part in many attacks on ground targets, particularly during the battles at Tebourba and Djedeida.

Flight Lieutenants Mackie

Wing Commander E. D. Mackie, DSO, DFC and bar, DFC (US); born Waihi, 31 Oct 1917; electrician; joined RNZAF 19 Jan 1941; commanded No. 92 Sqdn, Middle East, 1943–44; commanded No. 80 Sqdn and Wing Leader, No. 122 Wing, 1945.

and J. K. Porteous were frequently in action with No. 243 Spitfire Squadron. On patrol over the First Army front near Medjez el Bab early in April, the squadron intercepted fifteen Junkers 87 dive–bombers escorted by Messerschmitt fighters; the bombers jettisoned their bombs and fled for cloud cover, but the Spitfires closed in and shot down at least five of them and attacked most of the others. That day Mackie destroyed two Ju87s. Three