KITTYHAWK PILOT
By
J. P. A. Michel Lavigne
and
J. F. (Stocky) Edwards
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rev 2011.10.20
Copyright © 2011 Michel Lavigne and James Edwards
ISBN 978-0-986-88750-5
Cover Artwork by Adrian Low
Published by Yellow Dog ePublishers at Smashwords
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stemcat5
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This book has been published in eBook format by Yellow Dog ePublishing with the kind permission of Stocky Edwards and Michel Lavigne.
If you find any errors in the formatting of this book (spelling mistakes, etc), please email us at: YellowDog@shaw.ca . We will provide you with a free update once the errors have been corrected.
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This book is dedicated to the following Canadian pilots of No. 260 Squadron who were lost in action in North Africa:
Flying Officer R. S. Kent
Pilot Officer Dick Dunbar
Flying Officer Vic Thagard
Warrant Officer Stan Bernier
Warrant Officer E. Tomlinson
Flight Sergeant Stauble
Sergeant George Tuck
Sergeant Tak Takvor
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If you enjoyed this book, you may find more books by Michel Lavigne at: http://bit.ly/h0w6Jn
These books include:
Hurricanes over the Sands: Part 1
Kittyhawks over the Sands
G/C A.U. “Bert” Houle
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A Tribute to Wing Commander Edwards
2 Training
7 260 Squadron through Sgt Cartwright's Diary
9 Eddie Edwards, Otto Schulz and Wally Conrad
10 Retreat
12 New Pilots
18 Praise to the Ground Staff and Crews
19 Dive-Bombing and Strafing Through Tripolitania to Tunisia
22 Conclusion to the Campaign in North Africa
25 Post-War
Appendix 1: Kittyhawks Flown by Wing Commander J. F. Edwards in WW II
Appendix 2: Decorations Received by Wing Commander J. F. Edwards
Appendix 3: Combat Record of Wing Commander J. F. Edwards
Appendix 4: Pilots of No. 260 Squadron, North Africa, August 1941 to May 1943
Appendix 5: Pilots of No. 260 Squadron lost on operations in North Africa
Appendix 6: Landing Grounds used by No. 260 Squadron of the RAF in North Africa
Appendix 7: Bibliography
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My first and most sincere thanks are to my friend, James F. "Eddie" Edwards for his close collaboration in writing "Kittyhawk Pilot.” Without him, the writing of this book would not have been possible; the WW II official records on 260 Squadron were, for the most part, incomplete and of no use in any way for such a book. Fortunately, Eddie has a fantastic memory of the events which occurred almost forty years ago.
Naturally, it took a lot of deep concentration for Eddie to transfix himself to the war years and relate specific details, especially since almost all of these stories have not been discussed since that time. For my part, it's my nature to be determined in having a job done completely and with the exact characteristics. I really think accuracy should always be the number one rule for any historian. So, in doing the actual book, it has been a great pleasure to work with Eddie who never flushed on any of my queries. "You have invited and forced me to relive my desert flying and combats over again,” wrote Eddie in a letter to me in September 1981. "I think this has been good for me, especially since you have been able to dig out some thorny areas that have never been known or disclosed to anyone else. This has brought you and I rather close in friendship."
My sincere thanks too are for Mr. W. Ronald Cundy of Australia, who gave invaluable assistance, providing documents and answering my numerous queries and to Mr. Bill Cartwright of Vancouver, who provided a copy of his WW II diary and gave me permission to quote from it. I also thank Mr. A. Mel Arklie of Winnipeg, Mr. Nelson E. Gilboe of Seminole, Florida, U.S.A., and Mr. Bill Stewart of Montreal, who also provided documents and answered queries. All these fine people are ex-260 members.
I'm also particularly indebted to Mr. Giorgio Pini and Mr. Nino Arena, both Italian authors and historians, who carried out a great deal of research for me in the official records in Italy about the Regia Aeronautica. It's certainly the same for my friend, W/C Fred F. Lambert, who did invaluable research in England for me. Sincere acknowledgements, too, to the Honorable Walter G. Dinsdale in Ottawa and especially to Group Captain Albert U. Houle of Manotick, who has written the foreword to my book "Kittyhawk Pilot.”
"Merci Beaucoup."
Michel Lavigne
A TRIBUTE TO WING COMMANDER EDWARDS
J. F. "Stocky" Edwards is an excellent example of the Canadian youth who grew up in the hungry '30's. He regarded work a privilege - the only way to earn his daily bread. He probably never heard of the silver spoon type of living.
He was born at a time when courtesy and respect were taught in every home, and when patriotism was a part of every Canadian. It is little wonder he rallied to serve his country in time of war.
Before he entered his teens he was already well on his way to responsible manhood. He had learned many lessons which would help him become one of Canada's greatest fighter pilots. Good mental and physical conditioning, participation in competitive sports, and experience gained while setting his trap lines were to prove extremely valuable.
It was typical of Stocky to enlist early in order to do his share to stop Hitler. Anyone knowing him could have safely bet he would apply to become a fighter pilot. His self-confidence, his preference to rely on himself, almost to be a loner, would influence him to select that role. However, as the author so aptly writes, his dedication and sense of responsibility made him a good team man and leader. The hardships and dangers of the Western Desert merely acted as a catalyst to his determination to excel, to help others, and to survive.
I first met Stocky in Italy in December 1943. His reputation had been well-known throughout the Mediterranean theatre for nearly two years. He had a DFC and DFM sewn beneath his wings. They acknowledged more than a dozen confirmed victories.
As a Non-Commissioned Officer he had led officers in a service which was usually quite rank conscious. In that same RAF Squadron he was promoted from Sergeant to Flight Lieutenant by battle-tested squadron commanders who recognized his ability to lead, shoot straight and survive.
Stocky remained in the Permanent Force knowing his battle knowledge would help to train a peace-time force. Although he had been on his third tour, promoted to Wing Leader and decorated with two DFC's and a DFM, the RCAF thought he could best serve at the rank of Flight Lieutenant.
Those who had avoided active service, making sure they would not hear a shot fired in anger, acted in a natural way. They protected their future rapid promotions by demoting the decorated upstarts from the war zones.
Completing thirty-two years of service, he retired with the same rank he had earned in less than four years as a fighter pilot. At that rank his knowledge of how to train future fighter pilots could be permanently throttled. He could not interfere with a peacetime mentality.
This is a story that should be told. Desert fighting was not experienced by many Canadians. It did not get the publicity it deserved. Decorations were harder to earn out there.
We must remember — the march into Germany started at El Alamein.
Houle, DFC, CD, MSc., BA Sc., P.Eng. Group Captain
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Chapter 1: THE BOY FROM BATTLEFORD
The events leading up to the Second World War were far removed from the small prairie town of Battleford. Much of the world had declined, until the final moment, to heed the warning signs of impending conflict. Circumstances had decreed that a young Saskatchewan boy would be well prepared for the role he was to play.
When war broke out in 1939, Jim Edwards was in grade twelve and determined to enlist. It was not surprising that he wanted to join the Air Force. It was an exciting thought, but more than that, Jim's formative years had developed in him the initiative and skills which would compel him to seek the role for which he would be most suited. By the time Jim Edwards entered young adulthood, he had become a responsible and diligent worker, a bright student, a healthy, competitive athlete, and a skilled marksman. These characteristics were ingrained at an early age and nurtured throughout his childhood.
The days had always started early for young Jimmy and his brother Bernie. Every morning, by a quarter to six sharp, they were at the old Canadian National Railway station where they clambered aboard Bob Speers' milk wagon, ready for another round of deliveries. They and the other youngsters who met there each morning would put their system to work; as the wagon made its slow trek, allowing just enough time for the boys to make each delivery before it moved on, they ran from wagon to door and back again, with one member of the team remaining on the wagon to load the crates.
On winter mornings, when the slower horse-drawn sleigh was used, the boys could count on over two hours per run in temperatures that could drop to forty degrees below zero Fahrenheit. In the summer, when Mr. Speers brought the truck to the station each morning, the job usually took less time. Averaging a two hour run each morning through the seasons, the boys were rewarded for their efforts when they each received two quarts of milk. Even though milk only cost ten cents a quart in those days, it went a long way to help supplement the family food supply. Besides, the early morning run was healthy and invigorating; it kept them fit. It was one of Jimmy's first jobs. He was nine years old.
But it was not all work and no play for young Jimmy. As a boy, he joined in games of cops and robbers and hauled his sled up the town hill in winter to come careening down the snow-covered slope. There were plenty of outdoor activities with which a young boy could keep himself busy. When berries and mushrooms were in season around Battleford, he picked dozens of gallons and took them home for the eating.
At home, he had chores to do. The Edwards' household was heated by a wood-burning stove. Thirty-foot poplar poles were delivered to the house and Jim and his brother bucked them up and carried the wood into the house. As if he had little else to do, the youngster managed to attend Boy Scout meetings and mass on Sundays. On weekends, he checked the trapline he ran along the Battle River.
Jim showed an interest in hunting at an early age. He had learned to shoot small birds and animals with a slingshot and bow and arrows. When he was only nine years old, he began using a .22 rifle and by the time he was twelve, his father judged both Jim and Bernie capable of handling a 12-guage pumpgun. The boys hunted Hungarian partridges, pheasants, and prairie chickens on the wing. From upland game they advanced to waterfowl, ducks and geese. Situated between the junction of the Battle and North Saskatchewan Rivers, the area around Battleford lent itself to first-rate hunting. By the time he was eighteen, young Jim was known to be a good wing shot. His hunting experience as a boy would prove useful later.
So would his belief in the premise that he must work for what he received. While still of high school age, Jim and his brother spent the summer holiday months working on Bob Speers' dairy farm. Both boys crawled out of bed at 4 o'clock each morning and by 4:30, they had begun milking twelve or more cows by hand. The job was usually done by 7 a.m. when separating the milk and cleanup would begin. An hour later, they could be found seated at the breakfast table and, after a hearty meal, they would make their way out to the field to mow or rake hay with teams of horses. At 4:30 in the afternoon it was milking time again, but this time, sixteen or more cows needed attention. After cleanup and supper, they often accompanied old Bob Speers himself on a milk delivery to a couple of dozen summer cottages at a nearby lake before heading home for bed and a good, sound sleep. They made fifty cents a day and worked seven days a week. There was no fieldwork on Sundays.
Work or play, Jim did everything with gusto. Nothing he undertook became a passing fancy. Every ounce of energy he could muster was used to achieve a top rating in each endeavour he took on. In school, he was an avid student, holding first place in his class until he went to college in grade ten.
When he started high school, he was still making the early morning milk run. In the winter, after deliveries were made, he'd stop for breakfast before making the two-mile trek to college where classes began at 9:30 a.m. After school, he'd retrace his steps, often running or jogging all the way. Usually, he was home by 5 o'clock, but after supper he'd be off again to practise hockey or to meet another team in game play. His love for the game was obvious. When he wasn't playing for the St. Thomas College team, he was on the ice as one of the Battleford Midgets or Juveniles. On evenings when no games were scheduled, Jimmy could usually be found skating at the rink.
Eventually, his excellence in skating and the game of hockey became his forte, and at one time, he hoped to use it to further his education and attend university. He had been invited to attend Gonzaga University in Spokane, Washington, U.S.A. (Bing Crosby's Alma Mater), and he had an opportunity to try out with the Chicago Black Hawks when he decided instead, to join the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF). Later, the Chicago Black Hawks and his missed opportunity would come to mind. It was one of the few things he would really miss during the war.
Jim had always been active in sports. At school he played baseball until the hard times of the 1930's set in. It was then everyone switched to softball, because a few balls, bats, and a catcher's mitt were all the equipment required. From the time he was sixteen years old until he joined the Royal Canadian Air Force, Jim pitched or played shortstop for the town's senior ball team. If he wasn't playing ball, he would spend his spare time swimming in the river, playing golf, tennis or soccer.
Although youthful in years, he was already a young man, full of energy, physically fit and had a positive attitude when news of the war came to Battleford. In his last year of high school, Jim and two close chums, Bruce Innes and Cyril Gosling, spent long hours discussing how they could contribute to the war effort. The idea of joining the Royal Canadian Air Force dominated the conversations. Two of their school friends, Bill Lewis and Gerry MacDonald, had already left high school to go to England and join the Royal Air Force. To the boys still at home, it was thrilling and inviting.
At that time, senior matriculation was required to become a pilot. Although Bruce Innes was in his first year at university, Jim still had to complete his grade twelve. The trio decided they would enlist in the RCAF in 1940. Bruce left first in June and was accepted immediately. Cyril broke his foot about that time so had to wait until the following year.
Bruce was to complete two tours on Spitfires; however, he was severely wounded in the leg over Dieppe in August 1942. He staunchly refused to be sent home, even though his wound plagued him constantly. He was to become a Squadron Commander by the end of the war.
Cyril Gosling was finally able to enlist in 1941 and went to Malta to serve on Spitfires just as the Blitz ended. He proved to be a fine shot and became a double ace in quick time. Nevertheless, Cyril Gosling was one of the unfortunate. He was shot down off Sicily in July 1943. After his airplane was hit, he was seen bailing out, landing in the water, and climbing into his dinghy. He was never to be heard from again.
When the 1940 school year ended, Jim hitchhiked the gravel road to Saskatoon, about one hundred miles away. There he was given his medical examination and signed up as a pilot in the RCAF. One of the tests for aircrew required an applicant to hold his breath for as long as possible. Unknown to him at the time, Jim set a record which would hold throughout the war. He held his breath for more than three minutes.
Once the tests were over, the recruiting officer advised the young Canadian to return home. He was told to wait for call-up in two to three months time. Jim had only enough money for one night in a hotel room and very few meals. The next day, his funds exhausted, he started walking back to Battleford. Although there was some traffic on the road, no one stopped to offer the young recruit a ride.
After almost a full day of walking, he found himself some forty miles out of Saskatoon, at Borden, Saskatchewan. Tired and hungry, he made his way to a restaurant where the bus to Battleford made a stop. He sought out the manager and told him of his plight. Jim was lucky. The manager kindly offered to loan him the $3.75 it would cost to buy a bus ticket home. While he waited for the bus, the manager offered him something to eat. Although Jim has since repaid the gentleman, he has never forgotten the neighbourly offering of help to a total stranger.
While waiting for his call-up to the Air Force, Jim went to work on a friend's farm in northern Alberta. He returned to the Battleford area in time for harvest that fall. He was driving a team of big, black Percherons, hauling and pitching bundles of wheat into a threshing machine, when he received word of his acceptance into the RCAF.
This time, he received a rail warrant and meal tickets. He was to report to the Manning Depot in Brandon, Manitoba.
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Chapter 2: TRAINING
James F. Edwards enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force in October 1940. The first few weeks were spent at Manning Depot in Brandon followed by six weeks of guard duty at the MacDonald Bombing and Gunnery School. Edwards then spent another few weeks at Initial Training School in Regina, Saskatchewan before he finally arrived at No. 16, Elementary Flying Training School (EFTS) at Edmonton, Alberta where, on Tiger Moths, he officially began his flying career.
Until then, young Edwards had never driven a car; he had never seen the cockpit of an airplane, or even stepped within a hundred yards of one. But he was determined to become a pilot. He felt some unseen force urging him on.
Jim made his first flight in a Tiger Moth on 30 January 1941, in aircraft 4189. His instructor, a competent civilian pilot, Mr. J. Findlater, was both patient and understanding. First he kept Jim busy remembering the names of different airplane parts and how they worked in the scheme of flying. In the air, he had the greatest difficulty with gliding turns when coming in for a landing. The young pupil had trouble understanding the importance of maintaining airspeed by keeping the nose down in a gliding turn with the power off. However, it wasn't long before the lesson was learned. Mr. Findlater took charge while Jim sat in the passenger's seat as they climbed to about one thousand feet. He soon saw what happens when a pilot tightens the turn and allows the nose of the aircraft to come above the horizon without adding power. It was a lesson Jim would never forget.
With delays in the opening of the Advanced Flying School at Yorkton, Saskatchewan where Jim would be transferred next, extra flying hours were a bonus for the recruits. Flying the shiny, black and yellow Tiger Moths, he managed to log eighty-three hours of some of the most enjoyable flying he ever had in the service. A real airplane, The Tiger Moth was a fantastic dog-fighting machine. It could manoeuvre like no other airplane. By the time he had completed his seventy-first and last flight on the Moth on 27 March 1941, he had fallen in love with the aircraft. He had spent about two months with the machines while finishing that phase of his training.
At the completion of EFTS, the class looked forward, with anticipation, to the advanced flying school where they would take to Harvards. With the Service Flying Training School (SFTS) at Yorkton still not complete, the pupils were posted back to Manning Pool in Brandon to fill in time. With a large number of airmen in house at Brandon, there was rarely a dull moment. Packed mostly with recruits, the Brandon Depot also housed aircrew including Leading Aircraftsmen (LAC) who wore white felt patches in their wedge caps to designate their position. Drill sergeants saw they were kept busy by taking them on route marches twice a day. With the extra troops in town, the evenings ran high with competition for the local girls. No one could be surprised when they heard the rumour that all airmen with white on their hats were sure to be carriers of venereal disease. The girls were warned; airmen with patches of white should be avoided!
On 12 April 1941, Jim and his fellow LAC's finally arrived at No. 11 SFTS in Yorkton, Saskatchewan, for the next step in training. It was the first flying course to be conducted in Yorkton and everything, from Harvards to the instructors, was new. While a few of the instructors were seasoned and, in general, commissioned officers, most were experiencing their first time as student instructors. For his first six weeks in Yorkton, Jim received instruction from Flight Sergeant (F/Sgt) England. Later Sgt Martin was his teacher. Young Edwards took his first flight in a Harvard marked with serial number 2999, on 13 April and before his last trip on 20 June he had flown 109 trips at the Yorkton School. He had spent 102 hours in the air, seventeen at night.
The Harvard was an excellent trainer for advanced flying and pilots at the Yorkton School found it especially good for aerobatics. However, the engine was a little noisy with the prop in fine pitch, and it had a decided tendency to ground loop when stalled to land on three points. Strangely enough, a three-point landing was quite fashionable during the days Jim Edwards spent at the southern Saskatchewan training ground. It was used for landing on grass fields with short landing runs. Later, when he was flying operational fighters, Jim discovered that wheel landings with the nose slightly up, just above the stall, was the only sure method. Jim believed the aircraft should be under control at all times and that when a pilot stalled an aircraft, even in landing, he actually lost control momentarily. Some aircraft with short fuselages, are inclined to dart to one side the moment the tail wheel comes down. If the tail wheel is held off until it drops under its own momentum, it will run straight ahead with no tendency to ground loop.
Because they were students in the first class at Yorkton where the trial and error method was among the tools of learning, the boys at SFTS were permitted more flying time than usual. When it came to an end, there was at least one proud boy from Battleford ready to receive his wings. James Edwards was made Sergeant Pilot in the RCAF.
After graduation from Yorkton the boys made ready for disembarkation before taking the train for Halifax and overseas. The ride on the troop train east took several days and nights and throughout the trip, the men experienced feelings and took part in events they will not likely forget. Some were sad and others were more than humorous.
Airmen, soldiers and sailors filled the railway stations across the country anxiously waiting for their hour of departure to the east. The station at Winnipeg was no different.
"The railway platform was crowded with relatives and friends saying goodbye to their loved ones. As the train slowly began to pull out of the station one of the troops, who had a beautiful tenor voice, began to sing Be Seeing You'. He sang it with such feeling that the result was contagious and almost catastrophic." Jim recalled years later, "Everyone on the platform joined in. As the train pulled away into the night, there were many men with tears in their eyes and sobs in their throats."
When the train stopped to take on fuel and water at a place called Little Long Lac in Northern Ontario, Jim remembered, "some of the boys had planned to run to the liquor store, purchase some refreshments and bring them to the train. The train normally stopped for about twenty minutes, which seemed like ample time to carry out the mission. However, the store was some distance away and many of the troops had not come back when the conductor prepared for boarding.
"One of my friends, Bill Barker, had the quick presence of mind to run out in front of the engine and hang onto the railroad tracks. He yelled to the conductor, 'You can't go yet. You've got to wait for my friends. You'll have to run over me first!'
"The conductor got excited and ran to the front of the train. At the same time, the engineer stuck his head out of the engine window and wanted to know what was going on. Then, like the conductor, he climbed down from the engine to investigate. All this time Barker pretended to be hanging onto the rails for dear life. He refused to be moved.
"By the time the conductor decided to call the local law enforcement officer, the troops had arrived back and smuggled their goodies aboard the train. All of a sudden, Barker jumped up and shook hands with both the conductor and the engineer while apologizing for holding up the train. Before they knew it, he was aboard with his buddies. The conductor dismissed everyone and got the train underway."
When the train finally arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the young airmen were billeted in a huge, old stone building not far from the waterfront. Somewhat like an old warehouse, its ceilings were held up by walls filled with broken windows. Wharf rats made their homes in and around the old building and Jim spent sleepless nights practising his aim by throwing boots and anything else he could find at the rodents.
Never before had Jim been this far away from home, and during the past six months, his 'firsts' had been many and varied. It was the first time he'd cast his eyes over the Atlantic Ocean and the huge ships waiting in the harbour. To him, the sights and sounds were fascinating. Interested in his surroundings the young Canadian enjoyed every aspect of his new life with the exception of one; he will never forget the smell of the fish along the docks. The odor made an impression that lasted for years. It would be a long time before he would be able to put fish in his mouth!
Late one evening around the middle of July 1941, Jim was aboard a convoy of some two hundred ships that left the Halifax harbour for Great Britain. He travelled on the Ausonia, a swift, armed merchant cruiser carrying hundreds of Australian groundcrew and many Canadian aircrew. Jammed with troops and makeshift sleeping quarters and kitchens, the ship quickly became a troop carrier. The Ausonia stayed with the convoy for two or three days before it broke away one evening setting a fast cruise speed for Iceland. When the ship was docked, the passengers disembarked for a ten-day stay in a tented camp.
With little else to occupy their time, the troops took to walking to the hot springs about two miles from camp where they soaked in the warm water and made small talk. During their stay, they made it regular routine to go on a route march to the playing field where the Canadian boys attempted to teach the Australians how to play the game of softball.
"Most of the Aussies were good athletes," Jim recalls. "They had played most sports before, but our style of ball was entirely new to them. Even though we play ball from an early age, it never occurred to me that the game was filled with complicated rules. We argued about whether a player was safe or out and it seemed, as the game progressed, we kept adding more rules. Sometimes, I guess, it appeared the rules contradicted themselves.
"The Aussies finally had enough. They thought we were putting them on and the more we tried to explain, the more angry they got. Soon it got to the point where they were going to beat us up!
"Fortunately, the parade officer called everyone to order and prepared to march back to camp. But the Non Commissioned Officer (NCO) appointed to the Canadian flight was one of the strongest Aussie contenders and I refused to march with him."
Eventually Jim was escorted back to camp privately and put on charge. He was marched before the officer commanding and offered his point of view. "I couldn't understand why the Canadians couldn't march themselves," Jim said. The officer commanding offered him some sound, fatherly advice and dismissed the case."
It wasn't long before the boys were packing their gear and preparing to move on. During the first week of August they embarked on the Leopoldville, an old merchant ship of the Belgian Congo. Unlike the Ausonia which was manned by auxiliary naval personnel who had been called for wartime service, the Leopoldville's crew was made up entirely of civilian natives from the Congo. It took two days and three nights to reach Greenoch, Scotland where the troops disembarked and boarded a train which took them to a large depot near Leamington, south of Birmingham, England. Old friends had been reacquainted and new friends were made.
Each morning the troops gathered on the parade square where groups of between thirty and forty men were called to proceed to various Operational Training Units. If ever there was a roulette wheel for career decisions, it was there. Young Jim Edwards wished more than ever the wheel would send him to a Spitfire squadron. He watched as men received their orders to various places and positions. Some went to Coastal Command and others were sent to Bomber Command. Luckily, he knew, accommodation at these Operational Training Units (OTU's) were limited at this stage of the war.
Finally his name was called. James F. Edwards, with thirty-nine others, was instructed to proceed to 55 OTU at Usworth, Durham, near Newcastle. He would fly Hurricanes. At least some of his prayers had been answered. What mattered most was that he had been chosen to become a fighter pilot.
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Chapter 3: FIGHTER PILOT
At 55 Operational Training Unit, the last stop before being sent to an operational squadron, Jim joined sixteen of his comrades from Yorkton, as well as sixteen Australians who had taken the course following his.
Jim's operational training started when he took his first flight in Hurricane fighter number 4123 on 14 September 1941. He discovered the Hurricane I was a joy to fly and a forgiving airplane, but he believed it was too docile and underpowered to pose a threat to enemy aircraft in combat. The thick, straight wing and the humpbacked fuselage didn't hold any promise for improvement. During those months in late 1941, he wondered how Canada could put so much labour and expense into building an aircraft which had already been surpassed as a fighter by the German Messerschmitt 109's as demonstrated during the Battle of Britain. How, he wondered, could Canadian people be led to believe in their great war effort?
Apart from these doubts, all went well for the young Canadian pilot until the first day of October. That day he had already flown two trips with another student in a Master, a dual operational trainer, practising instrument flying. Over the noon hour, Jim had flown a Hurricane on a formation flight and after lunch, once the aircraft had been refuelled, he had gone on another formation flight.
It was the fifth time he was airborne that day that his aircraft's engine stopped. He was flying formation in cloud and was forced to put his Hurricane 2805 down in a field. He had been in the air about forty minutes, flying close formation to the left of his instructor in dirty black clouds when his engine cut out. Breaking away, he managed, by his own cockpit instruments, to penetrate the murk. With a cloud base of about five hundred feet, there was little time to do anything but force-land.
Searching the ground below, Jim saw fields in front of and around him - each only a few hundred square yards and all surrounded by fences and hedgerows. A glance at the smoke pouring from a farmhouse chimney told him the wind direction. He quickly decided on a nice, flat little field to his left. He banked and side-slipped his Hurricane, stalling it over the fence row. In almost one motion, the aircraft belly-landed within twenty-five yards of the fence and slid to a stop about seventy-five yards further across the field.
Walking to the farmhouse about a quarter of a mile away, Jim met the farmer and his family. They treated him to tea while he waited for the OTU crew to act on his forced-landing report. He had landed about seventeen miles from the base and in short order a lorry and crew were to his rescue. The aircraft was raised and inspected. Only one panel on the bottom side of the aircraft was caved in. It was removed, banged out and replaced and the Hurricane was declared flyable once again. Unfortunately, the size of the field and fences made a takeoff impossible. The aircraft was loaded aboard a carrier and transported back to base.
When Jim had first noticed his problem in the air, he thought the fuel supply might have run out. He was probably half right. Because the battle-weary Hurricane engines had been cutting out on takeoff when the main tanks were used first, an alternative had been established. As a result, it had become standard procedure at 55 OTU for the young pilots and their section leaders to begin takeoff on the thirty-five gallon reserve tank. When practising formation flying, the section leader would call the 'switch over to main tank' command after becoming airborne.
When Jim left the airstrip with his section that day, he was guided into intense cloud. Concentrating on maintaining close formation, he found it almost impossible to take his eyes away from the others to check the cockpit instruments. When his aircraft had been safely landed, Jim found the fuel selector switch in the reserve tank position. Although the young pupil did not agree with the 'switch-over' alternative his leaders found adequate, his forced-landing could have been avoided had he moved the selector switch in his Hurricane cockpit.
Jim never argued the point. Instead, once back at the Usworth base, he followed procedure. Filling out his first accident report which began, "I have the honour to report that...,” and ended, "your obedient servant,” he felt humiliated and degraded by the phrases. He had no choice.
The next morning Jim found himself in front of his flight commander, providing an explanation for bending one of His Majesty's fighting aircraft. The explanation fell on understanding ears. "Now that you have gained some valuable experience at the expense of the Crown," the flight commander said, "you should be all the more appreciative of your good fortune to have become a fighter pilot."
Little time was lost. The young Canadian was soon back on the airstrip preparing for more hours in the air. He logged four flights in the Hurricane on 2 October and continued his training until the day came to pack his gear and move on. Although one author reported later that Jim had "committed a blunder which probably delayed his being commissioned,” a promotion was not in danger. The Operational Training Unit was not a place where commissions were handed out. Young pilots were forced to wait until serving on an operational squadron or had already received promotions while at service schools.
On 20 October 1941, Jim completed his course at 55 OTU. He had spent approximately forty hours on the Hurricane I's and was ready for a second trip across ocean waters. After a few days leave, he was sent by train to Warrington, a large overseas depot near Liverpool. From there, the young Canadian was given yet another leave. He travelled to London where he met, for the first time, an uncle and aunt and cousins before he shipped out on another convoy. The Cunard Liners which left the docks of Liverpool were headed for the Middle East.
October had turned to early November and off the Bay of Biscay and Gibraltar the weather had turned the seas to a vicious sniper shooting its spray at the crew on deck. For the first time since he enlisted, Jim was no longer in training. With other budding operational pilots on board, he was selected to perform shift duty, manning the machine guns on ship security. As the storm brewed, Jim watched huge waves break over the bow, making their way to the back of the ship. The young passengers sought comfort in believing the rough waters would hamper enemy aircraft operations.
When the weather cleared, Jim could see ships in all directions. Destroyers and cruisers surrounded them. Fascinated, he watched as a battleship waited patiently for the waters to calm. In rough seas, the vessel was not tossed by the waves, but bobbed up and down as water washed over the main deck and, occasionally, leaped as high as the big guns on the deck above.
Heading down the west coast of Africa, Jim's ship left the main convoy to stop at Freetown, Sierre Leone, West Africa. The stop would mark the beginning of another new experience for the young Canadian pilot. After a few days in the harbour, the wheel of chance was spinning its fortunes. Sergeant Edwards, along with a number of other pilots, had been chosen to ferry Hurricanes and Blenheims overland across the continent of Africa to Cairo, Egypt.
Aboard DC aircraft and then a Sunderland flying boat, the young pilots were taken first to an Royal Air Force (RAF) Ferry Unit about 800 miles down the African coast to Takoraki, Ghana where they were checked out on Hurricane IIB's. The Hurricanes, with their long range tanks, would be used to make the trip to Cairo. Jim left Takoraki on 17 December 1941 and flew cross-country with five other Hurricanes to Accra and Lagos before bedding down for the night.
The pilots awoke to find weather conditions poor. They waited at Lagos and the next day, continued their journey to Kaduna and on to Maiduquri where, on the 19th, Jim's aircraft was declared unserviceable. The young Canadian pilot received orders to return to Takoraki and 21 and 22 December were spent on a DC-3 belonging to the American Airlines.
Assigned as the second pilot in a Blenheim IV, Jim began the trip again just two days before Christmas. Prior to their arrival at Cairo's Heliopolis airport six days later, the aircraft had touched down at Kano, El Geneina, El Facher, Waidi Saedna, Wadi Haifa and Luxor. Again a wheel of chance awaited them.
In Cairo, where another large aircrew pool stood by, troops once again covered the parade square where their names were called and postings were provided. From the Egyptian capital, men would be sent either to a Hurricane squadron in the Western Desert or travel to Burma or India in the Far East.
It took about two weeks for the wheel of chance to land on Sergeant Edwards' fortune. While he waited at Helio, sometimes called Hel I, Jim joined his comrades who had taken the long way around the Cape of Good Hope to get to Cairo. During the long days of uncertainty, they blinked in awe at the bright, hot sun that shone in an endless sky and marvelled at the flat, sandy wastes that stretched across the horizon. The days were long with little to occupy the pilots' time but to wonder when they would be ordered to leave.
At last, after some fifteen days of waiting, Jim received his instructions. He would be posted to an operational squadron in the Western Desert. Assigned to 94 Squadron of the Royal Air Force, he would be a member of the Hurricane fighter squadron at Antelat, located about 180 miles south of Benghasi and some 650 miles west of Cairo.
On 18 January 1942, Jim and eight other pilots were flown in a Bombay aircraft to a base called Tmimi. In order for the captain of the Bombay to find the exact location of 94 Squadron, they spent the night at Tmimi. In the morning, they continued their journey, maintaining no more than 50 feet of altitude. The new pilots learned there were Messerschmitt 109's in the area and it was wise to fly low and unobserved.
As they landed near the mess tent at Ante late after their trek, the pilots were greeted by ack-ack guns nearby. Disembarking from the aircraft, the young Canadian saw two Junkers 88's appear from a low lying cloud and drop their bombs on their airfield. The timing was perfect. They had indeed arrived at an operational squadron in the Western Desert.
Before many minutes had passed, they saw someone waving them into the mess tent. With no other official welcoming party than the cook who watched them land, the boys found cover. In the mess tent three bedraggled and well-worn fighter boys half-heartedly introduced themselves and provided a momentary update. Three other pilots were doing stand-by at the runway. But there was little chance they would have scrambled after they saw the bombs; the Hurricanes were over their wheels in mud and couldn't even be taxied, let alone fly. Sergeant Edwards learned the unit had lost some pilots and numerous aircraft a few days before his arrival. He saw a squadron full of demoralized men, lacking in almost every department. The picture was not encouraging for the young, green pilot who had just arrived at his first operational base from OTU.
By the time the new arrivals had made their way to the mess tent at Antelat, the 8th Army had reached the limits of its first westward advance under General Auchinleck. Now it was running out of steam and resources. Even to the Canadian newcomer, the entire area appeared in shambles. Rommel had solidified his forces near El Agheila and was counter-attacking. Retreating army personnel speeding eastward told the pilots at Antelat the front had been broken and the Jerries were advancing. Rommel was beginning his famous push. He would retake Tobruk and eventually advance to the El Alamein line by the end of June 1942.
In the early morning hours following the arrival of the new pilots, the four remaining Hurricanes of 94 Squadron were towed to drier ground and flown eastward to more friendly territory. The squadron camp was struck and everyone moved eastward by vehicle across the desert. During the trek, young Edwards found himself riding beside the driver of a three-ton lorry. He discovered, first hand, how rough the desert really was away from the beaten trails.
The squadron regrouped at Mechili airfield for a few days. Jim managed to get three flights on Hurricane II's but by 30 January they were moving again. This time they went to Landing Ground 110 (LG-110) where they gave away all the remaining Hurricanes and began their conversion to P-40 Kittyhawks.
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Chapter 4: 94 SQUADRON
94 Squadron of the Royal Air Force had first been formed in October 1918. The men were trained in England with SE-5a's when World War I was coming to an end. With a 'wolf’s head erased' as its badge and 'average' as its motto, the squadron had seen only one month in action while flying out of France before the Armistice. When the war was over, the squadron had returned to the United Kingdom and was disbanded in June 1919.
During the second Great War, 94 Squadron reformed at Aden in March 1939 as a fighter squadron. It was to form the Protectorate's Defence Force against suspected opposition from the Italians in Somaliland. From September 1939, the squadron had maintained one flight of three aircraft by day and another by night on combat readiness. They had also flown convoy patrols and, occasionally, took part in policing sorties. Until June 1940, their missions had been quiet.
The squadron saw its first action when one of its aircraft brought down an Italian bomber off Ras Imran Island. At the end of the month, the unit had begun bomber escorts and ground-attack sorties on Macaaca airfield. It was then the enemy had retaliated. They began raiding Aden by day and night and on each occasion, the pilots of 94 Squadron had been forced to scramble. They had often been unable to make contact because their Gladiator aircraft were too slow for the enemy advancements.
In April 1941, 94 Squadron had moved to Egypt. In May a detachment was sent to Habbaniya to strafe the Arab insurgents and serve as an escort to the Audax and Oxford bombing raids during the siege. Meanwhile, the rest of the squadron had been in action in the Canal Zone flying Hurricanes at night, scoring numerous victories. In October 1941, 94 Squadron was finally declared operational and was moved to the Western Desert of Africa.
By 13 November, under the leadership of Squadron Leader H. C. Mayers, a Battle of Britain veteran, 94 Squadron had arrived at LG-109, south of Sidi Barrani in Egypt. They became part of 258 Wing. Once they were settled, action was soon to follow. During 'Operation Crusader' the unit's main task was ground attack duties against the German and Italian troops and transport. During the last two months of the year, the boys of 94 Squadron had achieved success against the African Corps and Italian troops. They had destroyed numerous targets on the ground, including several enemy planes. In addition, the enemy had suffered a loss of five pilots, shot down in the air.
Teaming up with 260 Squadron in December 1941, 94 Squadron had joined their companions flying sweeps. Both units began losing planes and pilots to the Me-109's during the weeks that followed. When Sergeant Edwards arrived with the unit on 19 January 1942, he learned from the surviving pilots that no less than six of their comrades had been shot down by the Messerschmitts a few days before. No longer was 94 Squadron full of the pride it carried during 1940 and 1941. It was lacking in pilots, leaders and almost everything else that could be named. By the end of January it was off operations and back to LG-110 to begin its conversion from Hurricanes to P-40 Kittyhawks.
On the first day of February the boys received nine Kittyhawk I's and two Tomahawks. They wasted no time converting the aircraft and by 3 February Sergeant Edwards was taking his first flight in a Tomahawk. Two days later he was soaring the skies in a Kittyhawk.
Although the picture appeared brighter with the new aircraft in place and a great desert ace as their new commanding officer, it wouldn't be long until disaster would strike again.
Squadron Leader Ernest 'Imshi’ Mason was considered superb in his flying abilities, having been part of the first Libyan Campaign. The Commanding Officer had survived the campaign and had been credited with seventeen victories. Imshi had joined the RAF in March 1938 and been trained in the Middle East. He had joined 80 Squadron before the beginning of hostilities in the Desert and a while later, his flight had formed the nucleus of a new unit named 274 Squadron. The daredevil Britisher from Liverpool had shone over the sand dunes in his Hurricane, combating the Italian aircraft of the Regia Aeronautica during the Libyan Campaign. He flew forty-four sorties against the Italians in a one-month period from December 1940 to January 1941.
In April he found himself fighting German aircraft over Malta where he had been sent to lead a flight of 261 Squadron. Battling against the Luftwaffe, he had soon been shot down and wounded by the high-flying Me-109's. The British ace was then stationed in Palestine and Iraq for a brief time. After a period of rest, he arrived in the Western Desert to join 260 Squadron in January 1942.
Imshi became the new Commanding Officer for 94 Squadron in February. When he arrived to take charge, the unit had less than a full complement. Apart from Squadron Leader (S/L) Mason, Flight Lieutenant (F/L) Hawthorne, F/L Shelfort, F/L Forsyth, Pilot Officer (P/O) MacKillop, P/O Usher, P/O Moon, F/Sgt Phillips, F/Sgt Maxwell, F/Sgt Stone and F/Sgt Woods who were considered experienced pilots, new pilots who had arrived at the same time as Sgt Edwards made up the rest of the force at 94 Squadron. Sergeants Stewart, Wallace, Cliff, Whigston, Rutherford, Laurence and Brown were Canadians while Sgt Musker came from New Zealand. All were Sergeant Pilots and none were prepared for what was to come.
"On 14 February,” Sgt Edwards remembers, "Squadron Leader Mason, with about a dozen pilots, flew to Gambut 2 to renew operations with their new Kittyhawks. I stayed at LG-110 with a number of new pilots to continue training. I don't believe anyone had a dozen hours on the aircraft at that time."
In spite of the short time the young pilots had in training, "the next day, the Commanding Officer (CO) led six Kittyhawks from 94 Squadron and twelve from 112 Squadron on a low-level sweep over the Messerschmitt 109 (Me-109 or Bf-109) airfield at Martuba. The Kittyhawks were supposed to catch the 109's on the ground. The plan was to approach the field undetected, then climb for an altitude of two to three hundred feet so we could dive on the Me-109's when they scrambled. But the Messerschmitts were especially quick to scramble and could get airborne and climb above the Kittyhawks before they turned across the field. Usually, one or two Me-109's would be shot on takeoff, however, some would manage to climb above the Kittyhawks and hack the P-40s to pieces.
"The operation proved to be a complete disaster for 94 Squadron. One of the 109's was able to get airborne and shot down five aircraft belonging to 94 Squadron and severely damaged one belonging to 112. Included in their victories was the death of S/L Mason, commanding officer. Such was the prowess of the 109 in the hands of an experienced desert pilot."
Without a commanding officer, and having suffered crippling losses with Hurricanes and now the Kittyhawks, 94 Squadron was again withdrawn from operations. The squadron went to Gasr El Arid (LG-115) near Gambut, to recuperate and retrain. They were joined by the men left behind at LG-110. On 22 February Jim Edwards was among the new pilots to regroup with 94 Squadron at Gasr El Arid where they continued training.
Within a few days, a new commanding officer had arrived. Squadron Leader I. N. MacDougall was an experienced pilot and an efficient leader. Another Battle of Britain type, MacDougall had flown Defiants with 141 Squadron in 1940.
On his arrival at LG-115, the Squadron Leader quickly assessed the situation and appraised the condition of his unit. He immediately undertook to guide his men through a period of intensive training on their new Kittyhawk I's. For the next three weeks, MacDougall spent hours briefing the pilots, telling them what operations were all about. During that time, Sgt Edwards was able to log an additional nineteen hours on the Kittyhawk. He flew flight formation, practised air firing and dogfighting attacks and flew in battle formation. He, and other green pilots of the unit, desperately needed the training.
At last, on 21 March the squadron was again declared operational. They were sent on operations sur-le-champs, joining their companion, 260 Squadron.
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Chapter 5: THE HAWK OF MARTUBA
The retreat of the 8th Army in January and February had stopped about thirty miles west of Tobruk. At Gazala a line was formed inland from the coastal road, scantily marked by barbed wire and hastily constructed minefields. It was necessary to make the line as strong as possible to save Tobruk as the base for a fresh attempt to wrest back Cyrenaica and its airfields. Without them, the Island of Malta could not be replenished, and without Malta, there could be little restraint on the Axis reinforcement in Africa. The war had taken a dangerous new turn. Singapore had fallen to the Japanese; India was being threatened and Malta was under continuous air bombardment. The German advance in Russia made Egypt more vulnerable to attack through Turkey.
Behind the military lull at Gazala was an army in the process of reorganizing and restocking. Supplies were being brought forward by sea and along the hard-worn, much-bombed ribbon of tar that ran from Alexandria. The sea raged on one side of the well-travelled road while endless desert and a single rail track lay on the other. The railhead had been pushed forward and supply dumps were accumulating.
Beyond Gazala, in the haze of dust, the enemy was engaged in the same activities. Both enemy and Allied air forces were kept busy attacking the other's supply lines and airfields and harassing their troops. Each was making strategic, tactical plans and photoreconnaissance as well as guarding their own seaports. The Axis kept watch over their port at Benghazi while the British safeguarded Tobruk. Air force personnel had no rest. The need to attack the enemy and safeguard their own defences left little time to refit and train. It was a time when newly arrived squadrons had to be diverted to the Far East.
On 1 March 1942, the Western Desert Air Force was reorganized, and a new Wing, 233, was formed. It was made up of 94 Squadron, 260 Squadron and South African Air Force (SAAF) Squadrons 2 and 4. Flying both Kittyhawks and Tomahawks, 233 Wing joined 239 Wing, equipped mainly with Kittyhawks, and 243 Wing, flying Hurricanes, to make up 211 Group.
When the Western Desert Air Force (WDAF) was reorganized, the single-engined Hawker Hurricane and P-40 Kittyhawk or Tomahawk were facing the single-engined Messerschmitt 109F of the Luftwaffe and the single-engined Macchi 202 of the Regia Aeronautica. The German twin-engined Me-110 and the Italian biplane CR-42 were used mainly for ground attack duties. The 110 also acted as a long-range fighter and night fighter but, like the single-engined Italian Macchi 200, was rarely encountered by the Allied fighter boys. Although the 202 was a fine fighting aircraft, it was only operated at certain periods in the desert and eventually disappeared from action in the area.
For the Allied pilots, the main threat rested with the Me-109F, a formidable fighter when in the hands of a capable pilot or a good shot. The Hurricane was no match for the 109; the Tomahawk was at its best at low altitudes. The Kittyhawk was considered the DAF's best fighter aircraft. Although the Kitty's were an improvement over the Hurri's and the Tommy's, few considered them a match against the Messerschmitt. Nevertheless on 21 March 1942, when 94 Squadron was declared operational at Gasr El Arid, the aircraft would again face the deadly 109's.
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