Spitfire: Pilots' Stories E-Book

Dr Alfred Price

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Fachliteratur
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 478

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

The narrative description and condensed history of the Spitfire's construction, combat career and post-war service, bought together to tell the complete, concise history of the world's most famous aircraft of all time and undoubtedly the finest fighter of World War II. When Spitfire at War first appeared in 1974, it enjoyed critical acclaim, for the aircraft had never been described in such terms and detail before. It was followed by a second volume in 1985 and a third volume in 1990. All three volumes sold well and are hailed as classic works on the subject. These important works have been out of print for more than a decade, thereby denying them to the current breed of aviation buffs. The time has come to re-issue the three books as a single volume, the author 'cherry-picking' the choice cuts to produce the finest title on the mighty and beloved Spitfire.

Leseprobe

Press Day at Duxford, 4 May 1939, and a chance for No. 19 Squadron to show off its new equipment. By then the squadron number on the fin had given way to the unit’s WZ code-letters on the fuselage.

First published 2012

This edition published 2018

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

© Dr Alfred Price 2012, 2018

The right of Dr Alfred Price to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978-0-7524-7709-1

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

Printed and bound in India by Thomson Press India Ltd

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

Henry Cozens leading six of No. 19 Squadron’s new Spitfires in formation for the benefit of an official photographer aboard a Blenheim. The squadron number had been painted on the fighters’ tails shortly before this flight, and it would be removed soon afterwards. (If you count only five Spitfires, there is another hidden behind the fourth in order away from the camera.)

CONTENTS

Introduction

Foreword

1   The Path to the Spitfire

2   Spitfire into Service

3   First Encounter

4   First Spitfire Reconnaissance Flights

5   Baptism of Fire

6   An Even Match

7   Spitfires in Captivity

8   Battle of Britain Fighting Tactics

9   Better Fitted for the Fight

10   Battle of Britain Squadron Commander

11   Thirteen Days in August

12   Fighter Command Spitfire Units, 14 September 1940

13   The Spitfire in Action, 15 September 1940

14   ‘The Injustice of it All’

15   Feeding the Guns

16   Phoenix Rising from the Ashes

17   Skirmish Over Kent

18   Act of Chivalry

19   Spitfire Reconnaissance Pilot

20   A Fair Day’s Work

21   Outclassed

22   Production Test Pilot, Alex Henshaw MBE

23   Spitfire Night Fighters

24   Sorting Out a Rogue

25   First Spitfires to Malta

26   More Spitfires to Malta

27   Malta Spitfire Ace

28   Besieged on Malta

29   The Balance Restored

30   Duel in the Stratosphere

31   Eagle Squadron, Eighth Air Force

32   Enter the Seafire

33   The Second Greatest Thrill

34   Report on Seafire Deck Landing

35   Reconnaissance to Berlin

36   Spitfire Most Successful

37   Equal to the Very Best

38   Spitfire Floatplane

39   ‘Anyway, it is only a Short Sea Crossing’

40   D-Day Gunfire Spotter

41   D-Day Top Cover Squadron

42   Foe Without Mercy

43   An Aerodynamicist’s View

44   Spitfire versus V2 Rocket

45   Exotic Opponent

46   Spitfires Over the Balkans

47   The Spiteful, a Spitfire too Far

48   When Spitfire Fought Spitfire

49   Seafires over Korea: The Last of the Few

50   Spitfires versus Guerrillas

51   Stronger, Safer, Swifter

52   Time to Move On: Spitfire versus Vampire

53   The Final Act

54   Spitfire Swansong

Appendix A: The Spitfire Family

Appendix B: The Development of the Spitfire

INTRODUCTION

My aim in writing this book has been to set down, for posterity, a selection of accounts taken from the transcripts of the numerous interviews I conducted with Spitfire pilots. I have long believed the adage that ‘if you really enjoy doing a task, you cannot reasonably call it work’, and for me, writing this book was certainly not ‘work’. How could it be, when it was an honour to be in the presence of the interviewees? I was then able to speak to them individually and seek answers to my detailed questions. For an aviation writer and enthusiast, life doesn’t get any better than that.

Without exception, the pilots interviewed for this book relate that Reginald Mitchell’s little fighter was a sheer delight to fly. Its responsiveness to the controls was legendary, ‘like pulling on a pair of gloves’ was the most repeated description, and those same pilots also spoke of their association with the Spitfire with pride and infectious enthusiasm. No form of warfare can be ever regarded as ‘clean’, but surely one of the least dirty is that of the fighter pilot who sallies forth into the sky to defend his homeland and protect his loved ones.

Last but by no means least, I should like to acknowledge the invaluable assistance I received from John Page and Graham Homan, who gave freely of their time and expertise in the preparation of this work.

Alfred Price,Uppingham, Rutland

FOREWORD

by Wing Commander R.R. Stanford-Tuck DSO DFC (1916–1987)

This foreword was originally written for the author’s 1974 volume, which included a selection of the stories included in this collection.

When Alfred Price invited me to write a foreword for this book I was, of course, honoured; but I had the passing thought ‘Oh dear, another air book to wade through’. My fears were quite unfounded. As soon as I had read the first few pages I was held by it and read on almost non-stop till I had finished with Maffre’s excellent ‘Spitfire Swansong’.

I think the average member of the public during the war thought of Spitfire pilots as being carefree, beer-swilling types, rather like the rugger club members one could see being very noisy in any pub on a Saturday night. In fact, with a very few exceptions, nothing could have been further from the truth. Wartime flying and especially air combat in Spitfires was a very cold, calculating, ‘cat and mouse’ affair. Woe betide any fighter pilot who was casual or who daydreamed – he would very soon ‘cop it up the back end’, or one of his pals would. However, in spite of their deadly business, the Spitfire pilots had one great advantage, their aircraft, which they came to love in that strange way that men will love their cars or boats. I got my hands on a Spitfire for the first time on a crisp morning in December 1938. It belonged to No. 19 Squadron at Duxford. From the first moment I sat in the cockpit, going through all the instruments, cockpit checks, take-off and landing procedures etc., I thought ‘If it comes to a war, this is the girl for me’. Later that day, after my first flight, I felt this even more and for the first time in any aircraft I felt I was really part of it.

Just over a year later the tremendous thrill of getting my first Me 109 over Dunkirk justified my high opinion of the handling and fighting qualities of the Spitfire. As the years went past she carried me through countless combats and difficult situations and gave of her utmost every time it was demanded. She was a true thoroughbred.

I was so enthralled reading this book and recalling the memories it brought back of the airmen I had known, the flying, and the wonderful spirit which existed in those years, that I was very tempted to write considerably more; but that is not my part in this book. All I can say, with sincerity, is that this is a fine book about a fine aircraft and fine men, and I add my thanks to Alfred Price for asking me to write these few words.

1

THE PATH TO THE SPITFIRE

The year 1931 saw the Supermarine Aircraft Works at Southampton riding the crest of a wave, firmly established as a world leader in the design and production of high-speed racing seaplanes. In September of that year the Supermarine S.6B won the coveted Schneider Trophy outright for Britain, with a flight round the circular course at an average speed of 340mph. A few months later a sister aircraft advanced the world absolute speed record to 379mph. Later still in that same year, an S.6B with a modified Rolls-Royce R engine raised the world absolute speed record to 407mph. To realise any of those feats in a single year would have been a magnificent achievement for any aviation company, but to accomplish all three was an absolute triumph for Supermarine and its talented Chief Designer, Reginald Mitchell.

Yet although the design and production of the racing floatplanes had advanced the cause of high-speed flight, it would take some years before the various lessons could be incorporated in service equipment for the RAF. The racing seaplanes had been tailor-made to perform one specific task – achieving the highest possible speed over the measured course, and alighting on the water safely afterwards. Little else mattered. These aircraft had short endurance, poor manoeuvrability and very poor visibility for the pilot in his cramped cockpit. Also, since the RAF had won the Schneider Trophy outright, there was no chance of anyone else running a challenge in the foreseeable future.

After the excitements of the previous year, the focus of the company’s workforce returned to the production of the Southampton, Scapa and Stranraer twin-engined, long-range maritime patrol flying boats, to meet orders for the RAF and foreign air forces. Also in the autumn of 1931, and with a good deal less fanfare than had attended the activities of the racing floatplanes earlier in the year, the Air Ministry in London issued Specification F.7/30 for a new fighter type to equip its home defence squadrons. At that time the fastest fighter in the RAF inventory was the Hawker Fury, a biplane with a maximum speed of 207mph. As aviation experts pointed out, when the Fury reached its maximum speed in level flight it was flying at barely half as fast as the Supermarine S.6B had gone during its final record-breaking run.

Those who drafted the specification for the new fighter did not specify exact performance or other requirements. Instead, the various design teams were told to meet certain minimum requirements and do the best they could offer in terms of speed. The F.7/30 laid down the following requirements for the new fighter:

The highest possible rate of climb

The highest possible speed above 15,000 feet (ft)

A good view for the pilot, particularly during combat

Good manoeuvrability

Be capable of easy and rapid production in quantity

Ease of maintenance

An armament of four .303 inch (in) machine guns and provision to carry four 20 pound (lb) bombs.

When specification F.7/30 was issued, Great Britain was in the grip of a financial slump. Times were hard for the nation’s industries, and none more so than the aviation industry. There was intense competition to secure what might prove to be a lucrative order from the RAF, and perhaps foreign governments as well. Seven aircraft companies submitted design proposals for eight fighter prototypes to meet the F.7/30 requirement. Five of the aircraft were biplanes: the Bristol 123, the Hawker PV3, the Westland PV4, the Blackburn F.7/30 and the Gloster SS37. The other three entries were monoplane designs: the Vickers Jockey, the Bristol Type 133 and the Supermarine Type 224.

At that time the most powerful British aero engine available for installation in fighters was the Rolls-Royce Goshawk inline, which generated 660 horsepower (hp). On that power no aircraft was going to go much faster than 250mph, and at that speed the advantage of the monoplane over the biplane was by no means certain. Indeed, the consensus amongst the leading British designers at that time was that the biplane was slightly the better, as was shown by the greater proportion of biplanes entered for the F.7/30 competition (five against three). In the all-important matter of rate-of-climb, a good biplane would usually show a clean pair of heels to a good monoplane, and it was considerably more manoeuvrable.

The Supermarine 224 was Reginald Mitchell’s first attempt to build a fighter aircraft, for his entry in the F.7/30 design competition. Although the Type 224 was roundly defeated in that contest, it would serve as a vitally important stepping stone to the aircraft that later became the Spitfire.

The Supermarine submission to the competition was an all-metal monoplane designated the Type 224. Power was from a Rolls-Royce Goshawk engine developing 660hp. The Type 224 made its first flight in February 1934, when it demonstrated a top speed of 238mph and took eight minutes to climb to 15,000ft. The engine employed an evaporative cooling system, using the entire leading edge of both wings as a condenser to convert the steam back into water. However, the system did not work well, and when the pilot ran it at full throttle for any length of time the engine was liable to overheat. Flight Lieutenant (later Group Captain) Hugh Wilson was one of the RAF pilots who tested the aircraft. He told the author: ‘We were told that when a red light came on in the cockpit, the engine was overheating. But the trouble was that just about every time you took off that red light came on – it was always overheating!’

If the aircraft was to make a combat climb at full throttle, when it reached 15,000ft the condenser in each wing would be full of steam. Then the relief valve at each wing would open, and a line of excess steam would trail behind each wing. Once that happened the pilot had to ease back on the throttle and level the aircraft, to allow the engine time to cool down before he could resume his climb. For an aircraft intended to go into action at the end of a rapid climb, the requirement to level off to cool the engine would have been be a major limitation in combat. Even when it sat on the ground the Type 224 made enemies, as ground crewmen soon learned the folly of resting a hand on the steam condenser in either wing before it had cooled down after a flight.

The Type 224 did not show up well against its competitors, either. The winner of the F.7/30 competition was a biplane of conventional layout, the Gloster SS.37. It had a maximum speed of 242mph, giving it a small advantage over the Supermarine Type 224, but for its time the Gloster fighter possessed a superb rate of climb: it reached 15,000ft in six and a half minutes – a full one and half minutes ahead of the Supermarine design. Moreover, it was a far more manoeuvrable than the Type 224. The SS.37, with modifications, would enter RAF service later in the decade as the Gladiator.

Beverley Shenstone joined the Supermarine design team as an aerodynamicist in 1934, by which time the Type 224 was of no further interest either to the RAF or to Supermarine. During a discussion of the Type 224 with the author, Shenstone commented:

When I joined Supermarine, the design of the Type 224 was virtually complete and I had little to do with it. As is now well known, that fighter was not successful. My personal feeling is that the design team had done so well with the S.5 and the S.6 racing floatplanes, which in the end reached speeds of over 400 mph, that they thought it would be child’s play to design a fighter intended to fly at little over half that speed. They never made that mistake again!

Towards the end of 1934, Rolls-Royce began bench testing a new 27 litre (l) V-12 engine designated the PV XII (later named the Merlin). It passed its 100-hour type test while running at 790hp at 12,000ft, and aimed at an eventual planned output of 1,000hp. In November 1934 the board of Vickers, the parent company of Supermarine, allocated funds for Mitchell and his team to commence preliminary design work on a completely new fighter powered by the PV XII engine. The proposal aroused immediate interest at the Air Ministry, and in the following month the company received a contract to build a prototype fighter to the proposed new design from Supermarine. The new fighter received the designation F.37/34.

Close-up of the Type 224, showing the relatively high drag method of construction used in this aircraft.

The incorporation of the new Rolls-Royce engine into the proposed new Supermarine fighter opened up an entirely new range of performance possibilities for the new machine. With speeds well over 300mph now in prospect, Mitchell could use his hard-won experience in drag reduction in high-speed aircraft. Nevertheless, it was first necessary to make some changes to the airframe to enable it to accommodate the new engine. The PV XII engine weighed about one-third more than the Rolls-Royce Goshawk engine it was to replace, so to compensate for the forward shift of the centre of gravity, the sweepback of the leading edge wing had to be reduced. From there it was a relatively minor step to incorporate the elliptical wing that would be the most recognisable feature of the new fighter. Beverley Shenstone told the author about the process by which this change came about:

The elliptical wing was decided upon quite early on. Aerodynamically it was the best for our purpose because the induced drag, that which is caused in producing lift, was the lowest when this shape was used: the ellipse was an ideal shape, theoretically a perfection. There were other advantages so far as we were concerned. To reduce drag we wanted the lowest possible wing thickness-to-chord ratio, consistent with the necessary strength. But near the root, the wing had to be thick enough to accommodate the retracted undercarriage and the guns; so to achieve a good thickness-to-chord ratio we wanted the wing to have a wide chord near the root. A straight-tapered wing starts to reduce in chord from the moment it leaves the root; an elliptical wing, on the other hand, tapers only very slowly at first, then progressively more rapidly towards the tip... The ellipse was simply the shape that allowed us to carry the thinnest possible wing, with sufficient room inside to carry the necessary structure and the things we wanted to cram in. And it looked nice.

The F.37/34 prototype K5054 pictured at Eastleigh Airfield, Southampton, on 5 March 1936, shortly before it took off on its maiden flight.

At this time most major air forces – the Royal Air Force included – operated fabric-covered biplane fighters with open cockpits and fixed undercarriages. Compared with that, the new Supermarine fighter was a revelation: a cantilever monoplane constructed almost entirely of metal, with a supercharged engine, an enclosed cockpit and a retractable undercarriage.

The overwhelming credit for the fighter now taking shape in the drawing office at Woolston must of course go to Reginald Mitchell and his small design team, and the Rolls-Royce engineers at Derby struggling to improve the power output and reliability of the PV XII engine. Yet there were others, some working for the government, who also deserve a share of the credit.

One of the few design stipulations in the F.7/30 specification was that the armament should comprise four Vickers .303in machine guns. Squadron Leader Ralph Sorley, working at the Operational Requirements section at the Air Ministry, cast doubt on that score. He argued that the four Vickers .303in machine guns, each firing at a rate of 850 rounds per minute (rpm), would lack the punch to destroy the fast all-metal bombers then about to enter service in the major air forces. Sorley, an experienced military pilot, believed that in any further conflict fighter pilots would find it extremely difficult to hold their gun sight on a high-speed bomber for more than a couple of seconds. Unless a lethal blow could be administered in that time, the bomber would escape. Sorley later wrote:

By 1934 a new Browning gun was at last being tested in Britain which offered a higher rate of fire [1,100rpm]. After much arithmetic, I reached the answer of eight [Browning guns] as being the number required to inflict the required two-second burst. I reckoned that the bomber’s speed would probably be such as to allow a pursuing fighter just one chance to attack, so the bomber had to be destroyed in that vital two-second burst.

Sorley’s arguments convinced the Deputy Chief of the Air Staff, Air Vice-Marshal Edgar Ludlow-Hewitt, that the new fighter would need to carry eight of the new rapid-firing Browning guns, rather than four slow-firing Vickers guns. In April 1935 Sorley visited the Supermarine works to ask whether there was room in the wings of the new fighter to accommodate the revised armament. Mitchell passed the question round his design team and the answer came back in the affirmative: it would indeed be possible to fit the additional four guns into the fighter’s wings.

By mid-1935 the main design parameters for the revised fighter had largely been settled, and metal was being cut. However, there remained one important aspect: how to cool the PV XII engine. The initial thought was that the evaporative cooling system should be retained, despite its miserable performance when fitted to the Goshawk engine of the Type 224. The alternative, to use a conventional cooling system with external radiators, would impose a severe drag penalty.

Selecting an effective method for cooling the engine was no trivial matter. When the PV XII ran at full power, it produced an amount of heat roughly equivalent to 400 1-kilowatt electric fires running simultaneously. Unless that heat could be dissipated, the engine would overheat and was liable to suffer damage. Fortunately, Fred Meredith, a scientist working at the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough, had been experimenting with a novel type of ducted radiator to overcome just this problem. The airflow entered a duct at the front of the device, where its cross-sectional area was progressively narrowed. This reduced the velocity of the air in the duct and increased its pressure. The heated air then passed through the radiator matrix, where it picked up additional heat. Then the heated air passed through a divergent duct at the rear of the device. Thus the ducted radiator acted rather like a low-powered ramjet engine: the air entered the duct and was compressed, then it passed through the radiator matrix where it was heated, before finally emerging from the rear of the duct with an increased velocity. The system produced relatively little thrust, but by removing a source of drag it justified its value. Reginald Mitchell immediately saw the merits of the scheme, and redesigned his new fighter to carry a Meredith-type ducted radiator positioned under the starboard wing.

K5054 pictured in the hangar at Eastleigh in May 1936, after it had been painted in the Supermarine Company’s trademark light blue colour scheme overall.

On the 990hp from the latest version of the Merlin (as the PV XII engine was now named) it was predicted that the new fighter should be able to reach a maximum speed around 350mph. On 26 November 1935 Air Commodore R. Verney, Director of Technical Development at the Air Ministry, visited the Woolston factory and penned a brief memorandum on the state of the work at that time:

1. The fuselage is nearly completed, and the engine installed. The wings are being plated, and some parts of the undercarriage still have to be finished. I like the simple design of the undercarriage very much, also the flush riveting of the surfaces of the fuselage and wings. The glycol radiator is in the starboard wing, with controlled inlet cooling. Tubular honeycomb oil coolers are set forward under the engine.

2. As far as I can see it cannot be flying this year, but it should be early in January. It is in many ways a much more advanced design than the Hawker [Hurricane], and it should be a great deal lighter.

During early flights, pilots had complained that the rudder horn balance was over-sensitive in operation, and by this flight it had been reduced in size.

By the end of February 1936 assembly work on the new fighter was almost complete. It was now wheeled on to the hard standing beside the Woolston works for engine running and system checks. Then the fighter was dismantled and transported by road to the nearby airfield at Eastleigh (now Southampton Airport). Following reassembly, the fighter underwent further engine runs and checks early in March. When these were completed, on the fifth of that month an official from the Aeronautical Inspection Directorate made a detailed examination of the aircraft and pronounced it fit to fly.

On the afternoon of 5 March 1936 the new Supermarine F.37/34 fighter, serial number K5054, was made ready for its maiden flight from the airfield at Eastleigh. Captain J. ‘Mutt’ Summers, chief test pilot of the Vickers parent company, climbed into the cockpit, strapped in and started the engine. When he was satisfied that the cockpit instruments gave the expected correct indications, he waved away the chocks. Then he gave a burst of power to get the little fighter moving across the grass. One of a small group of professionally interested spectators present was Jeffrey Quill, who told the author:

‘Mutt’ taxied around for a bit then, without too much in the way of preliminaries, went over to the far side of the airfield, turned into wind and took off. With the fine pitch prop the new fighter fairly leapt off the ground and climbed away. It then passed out of our sight but I know what Mutt would have been doing. First, he would have needed to confirm that the technical people had worked out the stalling speed correctly, so that he could get back on the ground safely. To that end he would have taken it to a safe altitude, about 5,000ft, and tried a dummy landing to find the best approach speed and make sure that when it stalled the aircraft did not flick on to its back or do anything unpleasant like that. Probably Mutt did a few steep turns to try out the controls. Then, having checked that everything really important was all right, he landed and taxied in.

For reasons lost in time, that first flight lasted only eight minutes before Summers returned to Eastleigh. For the maiden flight the fighter was fitted with a fine pitch propeller, to give it optimum performance at the low-speed end of the performance envelope. Summers was keen to have a coarse pitch propeller fitted, so he could take the aircraft to the higher speed end of its performance envelope. On the following day, 6 March, Summers took the fighter up for its second flight lasting twenty-three minutes.

Early in April the Spitfire went into the hangar at Eastleigh for some minor work. The rudder horn balance was too large and needed to be smaller, carburettor air intake was lowered slightly to give an increase in ram air pressure, and the aircraft needed painting. Ernie Mansbridge, in charge of flight testing the aircraft, told the author of a problem that arose with the last of these:

The finish was put on by the same people at Derby who did the Rolls Royce cars. We asked Rolls what they did to get such a finish on their cars. They put us in touch with the firm that did it for them, some of that firm’s people came down to Eastleigh and they had the prototype for three or four days. They put filling in the various joints and rubbed it all down, put more filling on and rubbed it down again. Then they applied the paint, they really did a very good job.

It had sounded like such a good idea to get the experts who painted Rolls-Royce cars to perform the task on the Spitfire prototype, but in the event the idea backfired. Ernie Mansbridge again:

In flight the wings of an aircraft flex, a car body does not. Because of this flexing we soon had cracking of the finish. And this became more serious during high-altitude trials, when the filling would shrink in the cold. After a bit the wing surface on the prototype took on an appearance rather like crazy paving. It became a continual problem for us, to patch up the paintwork as best we could.

Shortly afterwards the Vickers parent company bestowed a name on its new fighter aircraft: ‘Spitfire’. By all accounts Reginald Mitchell was less than enthralled with the choice. Jeffrey Quill heard him comment: ‘It’s the sort of bloody silly name they would give it!’

On 26 May Mutt Summers delivered K5054 to the RAF test establishment at Martlesham Heath. Flight Lieutenant (later Air Marshal, Sir) Humphrey Edwardes-Jones was to be the first RAF test pilot to fly the aircraft, and when he landed he had orders to report his impressions on the new fighter by phone to the Air Ministry in London. After the Spitfire had been refuelled, Edwardes-Jones took off in the new fighter. He told the author:

I took off, retracted the undercarriage and flew around for about 20 minutes. I found that she handled very well. Then I went back to the airfield. There was no air traffic control system in those days and I had no radio. As I made my approach I could make out a Super Fury some way in front of me doing S turns to lose height before it landed. I thought it was going to get in my way, but then I saw it swing out to one side and land, so I knew I was all right. But it had distracted my attention at a very important time. As I was coming in to land I had a funny feeling that something was wrong. Then it suddenly occurred to me: I had forgotten to lower the undercarriage! The Kaxon horn, which had come on when I throttled back with the wheels still up, was barely audible with the hood open and the engine running. I lowered the undercarriage and it came down and locked with a reassuring ‘clunk’. Then I continued down and landed. Afterwards people said to me `You’ve got a nerve, leaving it so long before you put the wheels down.’ But I just grinned and shrugged my shoulders. In the months that followed I would go quite cold just thinking about it: supposing I had landed the first Spitfire wheels up! I kept the story to myself for many years afterwards.

Once down, I rang the number at Air Ministry, as ordered. The officer on the other end said, ‘I don’t want to know everything, and obviously you can’t tell me. All I want to know now is whether you think the young pilots and others we are getting in the Air Force will be able to cope with the aircraft.’ I took a deep breath – I was supposed to be the expert, having jolly nearly landed with the undercarriage up! Then I realised that it was just a silly mistake on my part and I told him that if there were proper indications of the undercarriage position, in the cockpit, there should be no difficulty. On the strength of that brief conversation the Air Ministry signed a contract for the first 310 Spitfires on 3 June, eight days later.

Men behind the Spitfire: left to right: ‘Mutt’ Summers, Chief Test Pilot at the Vickers parent company; Major Harold Payn, Assistant Chief Designer; Reginald Mitchell, Chief Designer; S. Scott Hall, Air Ministry Resident Technical Officer; Jeffrey Quill, Chief Test Pilot at Supermarine.

‘Mutt’ Summers landing the prototype at the Society of British Aircraft Constructors’ display at Hatfield in June 1936.

A few days later the Spitfire underwent further speed trials at Martlesham, which established its maximum speed as 349mph at 16,800ft. For the Royal Air Force, the new British fighter appeared at exactly the right time. In Germany the newly forming Luftwaffe was building up rapidly and its own high-performance monoplane fighter, the Messerschmitt Bf 109, was about to enter large-scale production.

The test programme at Martlesham Heath continued until 1 August, when the prototype returned to Eastleigh for the installation of military equipment. These included the eight .303in Browning machine guns, as well as a reflector sight and a radio. Several minor modifications were also incorporated, including a new oil cooler, the installation of a spin recovery parachute and the latest version of the Merlin engine which now developed an extra 60hp. The new fighter resumed testing early in December 1936, and the first item on the agenda was to test the fighter’s ability to recover from spins, as the centre of gravity was moved progressively rearwards. The fear was that the aircraft might enter a flat spin and fail to recover using the usual stick-forwards-and-opposite-rudder technique. To avoid that possibility the Spitfire carried a makeshift spin recovery system, as Jeffrey Quill describes:

The small parachute, about 3ft in diameter, was folded and housed in a box about 9in by 6in by 2in, fitted in the cockpit on the right side. From the parachute a steel cable ran out between the front of the canopy and the windscreen, then to the base of the fin where it was attached to a ring bolt. To stop it flapping about in the airflow, the cable was held down at regular intervals with sticky tape. If the aircraft got into a flat spin and would not come out using the normal recovery procedure, the idea was that I should slide back the canopy, grab the folded parachute and toss it out on the side opposite to the direction of the spin (taking care not to let the cable pass across my neck if the parachute had to be tossed to the left!). The parachute would then stream out behind the tail and as it opened it would yank the aircraft straight, thereby providing what was in effect a much more powerful rudder. Once the parachute had pulled the aircraft straight, it could be jettisoned.

Quill tested the parachute and jettison system on 11 December, and the arrangement worked as intended. In the days to follow he flew the fighter seven times, with the centre of gravity moved progressively aft between each flight. He put the fighter into a spin in both directions and each time it recovered normally, without using the parachute.

Early in 1937 Reginald Mitchell was diagnosed as suffering from cancer. The treatment he received failed to relieve his condition, and in June of that year he died at the tragically young age of 42. By then Mitchell’s legacy to the nation, potentially the most effective fighter aircraft in the world, had proved its capabilities beyond reasonable doubt. At that time the word ‘potentially’ was appropriate, however, for the series of tests had revealed that the prototype Spitfire had a major shortcoming. At low and at medium altitude its eight Browning machine guns had successfully fired their complements of 300 rounds over the North Sea. Then, in March 1937, an RAF pilot took the fighter to 32,000ft for what was to be the final, high-altitude firing test. It ended in a fiasco: one gun fired 171 rounds, another fired eight, yet another fired four, and the remaining five guns failed to fire at all. That was bad enough, but as the fighter touched down the jolt released the breech blocks of three guns that had not fired. Each one then loosed off a round in the general direction of Felixstowe!

On 22 March 1937 Flying Officer Sam McKenna was airborne from Martlesham Heath in the Spitfire when the Merlin engine suffered a failure of the lubrication system. The pilot made a skilful wheels-up landing and the aircraft incurred minimal damage.

Following the repair work, K5054 was fitted with a radio (note the aerial mast mounted behind the canopy). The aircraft was also painted in the dark green and dark earth scheme now required by the RAF, as the political situation Europe deteriorated. The aircraft resumed flying on 9 September 1937.

The cause of the problem was the guns freezing up at high altitude, and the solution was to duct hot air from the engine coolant radiator to the gun bays. Getting this solution to work was no easy matter, however. In July 1938 the problem would still be present in the first production Spitfires about to be delivered to the RAF. During a closed meeting at the Air Council the Chief of the Air Staff, Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir Cyril Newall was moved to comment that: ‘If the guns will not fire at the heights at which the Spitfires are likely to encounter enemy bombers, they will be useless as fighting aircraft.’ The problem of guns freezing up remained until October 1938 when, following a series of modifications, all eight guns fired their complements of ammunition at high altitude. Subsequent production Spitfires incorporated the design changes, and these were fitted retrospectively to earlier aircraft.

K5054 continued flying until 4 September 1939, when it was seriously damaged in a landing accident at Farnborough. The pilot, Flight Lieutenant ‘Spinner’ White, was killed.

During the early summer of 1938, production Spitfires began to emerge from the Supermarine assembly hangar at Eastleigh in growing numbers. The prototype’s part of the fighter’s test programme came to an end. The hand-built prototype differed greatly from the production aircraft, and it went to Farnborough where it served as a high-speed ‘hack’ used to test various new features.

On 4 September 1939, the day after Great Britain declared war on Germany, the prototype suffered serious damage in a fatal landing accident at Farnborough. That was before people nursed sentimental ideas about preserving historic aircraft. Although the Spitfire prototype could have been repaired, nobody in a position of authority thought it worth the effort and it was scrapped. The prototype had cost the British taxpayer £15,776. Rarely has government money been better spent.

2

SPITFIRE INTO SERVICE

by Henry Cozens

During the summer of 1938 the first Spitfires were issued to an RAF squadron, No. 19 at Duxford. Henry Cozens commanded the squadron at that time and his account of the introduction of the new high-performance monoplane into service conveys well the mood in the RAF at that time.

IIn December 1937, I was promoted to squadron leader and posted to take command of No. 19 Squadron based at Duxford, near Cambridge. At that time we flew the Gloster Gauntlet, a biplane with an unimpressive performance compared with the sort of opposition we were likely to meet if it came to a war with Germany. I heard a buzz that the first of the new Spitfire fighters were to be issued to a squadron based at Catterick in Yorkshire. I thought it might be possible to change this, so I got in touch with one of my friends at Fighter Command Headquarters and asked him whether he thought the idea of sending the first of these new fighters so far north was sound. There was bound to be a lot of Air Ministry interest in the aircraft and Catterick was rather a long way from London; and besides, it was a notoriously small airfield. Might not Duxford, a larger airfield much closer to London, be more suitable? My questions must have prompted the correct line of thought because a few weeks later I heard that my own squadron, and No. 66 which shared Duxford with us, would be the first to receive Spitfires.

On 4 August 1938, amid much excitement, we received the first of the new aircraft: Spitfire K9789. I made my first flight in her on the 11th. At that time there were no pilots’ notes on the Spitfire, no conversion courses and, of course, no dual-control aircraft. I was shown round the cockpit, given a cheerful reminder to remember to extend the undercarriage before I landed, wished ‘Good Luck’, and off I went.

After flying the Gauntlet, my first impression of the Spitfire was that her acceleration seemed rather slow and the controls were a lot heavier than I had expected. Thinking about it afterwards, I realised why: the Gauntlet took off at about 70mph and was flat-out at about 220mph; the Spitfire took off at about the same speed but could do well over 350mph – in other words the speed range was much greater, and although the acceleration was in fact greater it took somewhat longer to reach its maximum speed. Moreover, as she neared the top end of her speed range, the Spitfire’s controls became beautifully light.

On August 16th, I collected the second Spitfire for Duxford, K9792. Nos 19 and 66 Squadrons were ordered to carry out the intensive flying trials using these two aircraft; our instructions were to fly them both to 400 hours as rapidly as possible and report our findings. The two squadrons set about the task with enthusiasm and the two aircraft were airborne almost continuously from dawn to dusk; alone, I amassed twenty-four flying hours in the Spitfire before the end of August. We had a few adventures. I remember one fine afternoon seeing a Spitfire taxiing in and, as usual, the ground crew were all out watching her. Suddenly one of the undercarriage legs started to fold. In no time people were running towards the aircraft from all directions and they grabbed the wing and managed to hold it up until the propeller stopped. The precious fighter escaped damage.

The first Spitfire delivered to an RAF unit was the third production aircraft K9789, which arrived at No. 19 Squadron based at Duxford on 4 August.

On 14 May 1938 the first production Spitfire, K9787, made its maiden flight with Jeffrey Quill at the controls. That aircraft, and also the second production machine K9788, would remain at Supermarine to test various features of the new fighter.

During these intensive flying trials, Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding, the Commander-in-Chief (C-in-C) of Fighter Command, visited us at Duxford. I showed him over the Spitfire and then we went to my office. When we were alone together he told me the position regarding this aircraft, if it came to a war. He said that the Hurricane was a great success and it could take on the Junkers 88 and the other German aircraft; but the Messerschmitt 109 was more than a match. So his question was: could the Spitfire take on the 109? If it could, then Fighter Command was prepared for war. If it could not, then we should have to think again.

As the intensive flying trial progressed I became convinced that the Spitfire could indeed take on the Messerschmitt 109 – and any other fighter then in existence. But that was not to say that she was perfect. For one thing the engines of these first Spitfires were difficult to start: the low-geared electric starter rotated the propeller blades so slowly that when a cylinder fired there was usually insufficient push to flick the engine round to fire the next. There would be a ‘puff’ noise, then the propeller would resume turning on the starter. Also, the early Merlin engines leaked oil terribly; it would run from the engine, down the fuselage and finally got blown away somewhere near the tail wheel. Yet another problem was what we called ‘Spitfire Knuckle’: when pumping up the undercarriage it was all too easy to rasp our knuckles on the side of the cockpit. There was a further problem for the taller pilots, who were always hitting their heads on the inside of the low cockpit canopy.

When we were about halfway through the 400-hour trial, I had a chat with Squadron Leader Fuller-Good who commanded 66 Squadron and we agreed that we had learned just about all we could from the exercise. I felt that if the First World War was anything to go by, no fighter was likely to last in action for anything like 400 hours. All we were now going to find out was how to wear out two perfectly good Spitfires. So together we wrote an interim report on the new fighter and off it went. That set the wheels in motion, for a few weeks later we received a high-powered deputation from the Air Ministry, Fighter Command Headquarters, Supermarine, Rolls-Royce and goodness knows where. We discussed the shortcomings at length and they promised to do what they could to overcome them. I remember that my own bandaged ‘Spitfire Knuckle’ made a particularly strong impression on the Supermarine team. The improvements we asked for were all incorporated in our own or later marks of the Spitfire. The simpler things like the bulged cockpit canopy to make life easier for the taller pilots and the faster starter motor we received quite quickly. The improved oil seals for the Merlin took a little longer and leaking oil did remain something of a problem throughout the Spitfire’s service life. The later Spitfire Mark I’s (Mk I) had an engine-driven hydraulic system to raise and lower the undercarriage, which did away with the need to pump and the resultant ‘Spitfire Knuckle’.

Squadron Leader Henry Cozens commanded No. 19 Squadron when it received its first Spitfires, in August 1938. He is depicted as a Flight Lieutenant, in the Royal Air Force full-dress uniform of the 1930s. His career as a fighter pilot had began on Sopwith Snipes in 1923, and before he retired he would fly Meteors and Vampires.

During the early days we tried several different types of airscrew on the Spitfire. The original two-bladed, fixed-pitch wooden propeller was designed to give its best performance envelope at high speed, but this produced serious disadvantages at the lower speeds; for example, during take-off it almost stalled. We tried to get over this at first with a three-bladed propeller with a finer pitch, then with a three-bladed, two-pitch propeller with one setting for take-off and another for high speed. I did not like the two-pitch propeller at all. It was far too easy to leave it in coarse pitch for take-off and that could give rise to a dangerous situation. There was no halfway house: the answer was the constant speed propeller, which automatically gave the correct pitch settings for all airspeeds. Early in 1939 I flew a trial with one of these and I remember being much impressed with the improvement in acceleration and general handling at low speeds. Fortunately, by the opening of the Battle of Britain, the operational Spitfires all had constant speed propellers.

A pair of Spitfires of No. 66 Squadron being refuelled at Duxford. Although concentrating aircraft in this way made the refuelling task easier, the first attacks on airfields would teach units the value of dispersal.

Spitfire K9987 was delivered to No. 66 Squadron shortly before the outbreak of war. By 3 September 1939 the RAF had accepted delivery of 306 Spitfires. Of these, 187 formed the full equipment of ten squadrons (Nos 19, 41, 54, 65, 66, 72, 74, 602, 603 and 611). A further eighty-three were distributed as follows: at maintenance for the installation of operational equipment, seventy-one; employed on trials at the makers or at various service test establishments, eleven; allocated to a training unit, one. The remaining thirty-six Spitfires had been written off in accidents.

Spitfires of No. 19 Squadron flying in the standard RAF battle formation employed at the beginning of the war.

Throughout the late summer and autumn of 1938 we received Spitfires at the rate of about one per week, and the year was almost over before we were at our full strength of sixteen aircraft. Until we were up to strength and fully operational with Spitfires, we held on to our earlier Gauntlets and still flew them from time to time.

Jeffrey Quill, the senior test pilot at Supermarine, was a frequent visitor to Duxford to see how we were getting on. One of the points he was a little anxious about was the size of the flaps on the Spitfire. Did we think they were too large for so light an aircraft? I agreed that they were a bit fierce, but I told him: ‘Sooner or later people are going to hang things on this aircraft. I don’t know what they will be, but I am certain that it will happen. And with the performance improvements planned by Supermarine the Spitfire is not going to get any lighter, is she?’ He agreed that she would not, so we thought it better to leave the flaps alone and see what happened. As everybody now knows, the Spitfire more than doubled in weight during her development life; and to the very end the flaps were the same as they were in 1938.

The first Spitfire written off. On 3 November 1938, Pilot Officer G. Sinclair was landing at Duxford at the end of his first flight in a Spitfire, K9792, when a faulty port axle stub sheared on landing. Sinclair was unhurt.

Spitfires and Hurricanes massed on the ground at RAF Digby. The occasion was a multi-squadron formation flight over Midlands cities, to publicise Empire Air Day on 20 May 1939. Also, more importantly, it was intended to boost civilian morale as the war clouds gathered.

When the Spitfire first arrived at Duxford they had lacked guns, but during the months that followed guns were fitted. I had my first experience of firing on 3 November, at the range at Sutton Bridge; as it happened, it was a night sortie. I had expected a few sparks from each gun, but I was in no way prepared for the fireworks display which came from each wing: the long tongues of flame leapt out about 10ft in front of each gun. And the recoil of the eight fast-firing Browning machine guns, after the two Vickers guns I had been used to in the Gauntlet, was unexpectedly severe; it slowed down the aircraft as though one had put the brakes on.

Six of the original Spitfire pilots who flew with No. 19 Squadron: Flying Officers Pace, Robinson, Clouston, Banham, Ball and, seated, Thomas.

In January 1940 I left Duxford to take up a staff appointment. By then the Royal Air Force had more than a dozen squadrons fully equipped with the Spitfire, and several others were about to receive it. We on No. 19 Squadron had introduced the type into service and, I am proud to say, we did it without losing a man.

3

FIRST ENCOUNTER

By Horst von Riesen

On 16 October 1939 Spitfires of Nos 602 and 603 Squadrons were scrambled to intercept a small force of German bombers attacking shipping in the Firth of Forth. For the first time, the new RAF fighter was to go into action against the enemy. Two of the German bombers were shot down, one of them being credited to Squadron Leader E. Stevens, the commander of No. 603 Squadron. During the same engagement Pilot Officers Morton and Robertson, also of No. 603 Squadron, reported intercepting an enemy aircraft ‘thought to be a He 111’ over Rosyth and pursuing it out to sea at very low level. When they finally broke off their attacks the bomber’s starboard engine was observed ‘not running’.In fact the German bombers involved in the day’s attack on the Firth of Forth were not Heinkel 111s, as was widely reported in British accounts of the action, but Junkers 88s. And Horst von Riesen should know – because he was one of those on the receiving end!

In the autumn of 1939 I was a young lieutenant serving with I. Gruppe of Kampfgeschwader 30 (I./KG 30), based at Westerland on the island of Sylt. At that time we were the only unit in the Luftwaffe equipped with our fast new long-range dive bomber – the Junkers 88.

Initially our activities had kept us well clear of the British defences. But on the morning of 16 October one of our reconnaissance aircraft spotted the battle cruiser HMS Hood entering the Firth of Forth. We received orders to attack her, if we could catch her in open water; but at that stage of the war both sides tried hard to avoid causing civilian casualties and we had strict orders that if she was in harbour we were either to attack other warships outside, or else return with our bombs.

Nine of our aircraft were bombed-up and took off, but when we arrived over Rosyth we found Hood safely in dock – where we were not allowed to harm her. Just to the east of the Forth Bridge there were some small warships, however, and I decided to attack one of these. I selected one and carried out a diving attack, but scored only a near-miss.

Then, as I was climbing away, my radio operator suddenly shouted over the intercom that there were several fighters about 2 kilometres (km) away, diving on us. I looked in the direction he was pointing and as soon as I saw them I knew that I would need all the speed I could possibly squeeze out of my Junkers if we were to escape. I pushed down the nose and, throttles wide open, dived for the sea. But it was no good. The Spitfires, as we soon recognised them to be, had the advantage of speed and height from the start and they soon caught up with us. As I sped down the Firth of Forth just a few metres above the surface, I could see clearly the splashes from the shells from the shore batteries, as they too joined in the unequal battle.

Although the Spitfire pilots reported the bombers they engaged on 16 October 1939 as Heinkel 111s, they were in fact Junkers 88s. During the action two German bombers were shot down and others, including Horst von Riesen’s, suffered damage.

Leutnant Horst von Riesen had a memorable brush with Spitfires on 16 October 1939.

Now I thought I was finished. Guns were firing at me from all sides, and the Spitfires behind seemed to be taking turns at attacking. But I think my speed gave them all a bit of a surprise – I was doing more than 400 kilometres per hour (km/h) (250mph), which must have been somewhat faster than any other bomber they had trained against at low level – and of course I jinked from side to side to make their aim as difficult as possible. At one stage in the pursuit I remember looking down and seeing what looked like rain drops hitting the water. It was all very strange. Then I realised what it was: those splashes marked the impact of bullets being aimed at me from above!

I had only one ally: time. Every minute longer the Junkers kept going meant another 7km further out to sea and further from the Spitfires’ base; and I had far more fuel to play with than they did. Finally, however, the inevitable happened: after a chase of more than twenty minutes there was a sudden ‘phooff’ and my starboard motor suddenly disappeared from view in a cloud of steam. One of the enemy bullets had pierced the radiator, releasing the vital coolant and without it the motor was finished. There was no alternative but to shut it down before it burst into flames.

My speed sagged to 180km/h (112mph) – almost on the stall when flying asymmetric – and we were only a few metres above the waves. Now the Junkers was a lame duck. But when I looked round, expecting to see the Spitfires curving in to finish us off, there was no sign of them. They had turned round and gone home.

Even so, we were in a difficult position. With that airspeed there lay ahead of us a flight of nearly four hours, if we were to get back to Westerland. During our training we had been told that a Ju 88 would not maintain height on one engine – and we were only barely doing so. Should we ditch there and then? I thought no; it was getting dark, nobody would pick us up and we would certainly drown or die of exposure. An alternative was to turn round and go back to Scotland, and crash-land there. One of my crew suggested this but one of the others shouted over the intercom, ‘No, no, never! If we go back there the Spitfires will certainly get us!’ He was right. The thought of going back into that hornets’ nest horrified us. So we decided to carry on as we were and see what happened. We preferred to risk death from drowning or the cold, rather than have to face those Spitfires again.

Gradually, as we burnt more fuel and the aircraft became lighter, I was able to coax the Junkers a little higher. The remaining motor, though pushed to the limit, continued running and finally we did get back to Westerland.

So it was that I survived my first encounter with Spitfires. I would meet them again during the Battle of Britain, over the Mediterranean and during the Battle of Sicily. It was not a pleasant experience.

4

FIRST SPITFIRE RECONNAISSANCE FLIGHTS

In August 1939, shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War, Flying Officer Maurice ‘Shorty’ Longbottom penned a memorandum on strategic aerial reconnaissance. In it he stated:

… this type of reconnaissance must be done in such a manner as to avoid the enemy fighters and AA [anti-aircraft] defences as completely as possible. The best method of doing this appears to be the use of a single small machine, relying solely on its speed, climb and ceiling to avoid detection.