More than eighty years after RAF Downham Market opened, another chapter in the story of the former airfield may be about to begin. But this change could also mark the beginning of the end for the remaining evidence of its wartime past?
Recent groundworks and excavations on the eastern side of the A10, around the former technical area, have raised questions about what might happen next. Is this simply preparation for a new industrial development, or could it be the start of something much larger?
The trenches crossing the former main runway. The new memorial is off to the left.
We know from previous developments that these ‘archaeological trenches’ are the forerunner of new developments, designed to establish the presence of any historically important features that may lay buried beneath the surface. And whilst at present, there are no confirmed plans to redevelop the entire former technical area, the available planning information suggests that further change is a real possibility.
A new industrial landscape
The Borough Council of King’s Lynn & West Norfolk has allocated land at Bexwell Business Park for “employment and industrial use”. This is not a housing proposal. The Council’s adopted Local Plan identifies approximately 20 hectares of remaining land within the wider employment allocation.
The parachute room with heating vent.
In June 2026, planning permission was granted for 14 new industrial units on land west of Karoo Close. The development includes associated access and parking and is intended for industrial, storage and distribution uses.
That is the confirmed position. But the 14 units are only one scheme within a much larger area identified for employment development.
It would be wrong to suggest that permission has been granted to build across all the remaining land. Equally, it would be unwise to assume that the present development will be the last. The town itself has, like many towns across the country, been subjected to huge housing developments, and this is just another part of that process.
The question is now, whether or not these works are the first visible signs of a longer-term transformation of the former airfield.
More trenches. The buildings in the background are on the former technical site.
What will happen to the wartime buildings?
The long term concern is for the airfield, its remaining buildings and what will become of them.
The former technical area was an essential part of the wartime station. This was where aircraft equipment was stored, repairs and maintenance were carried out, and the ground organisation supported the aircrews and their operations.
Much has disappeared since the station closed in 1946, and many of those that are left are crumbling. In some cases walls are separating rendering them dangerous to the public. Yet a number of structures are still in reasonable condition. Of those that are left, they include the former Main Stores, Crew Locker and Drying Room, Link Trainer and transformer installation, together with other buildings associated with the technical site.
The crew locker room. The grassed area is where crews would wait, before a mission, ready to transfer to their respective aircraft.
Today, some stand within or alongside the modern business park. They may no longer look like parts of an RAF station, but their historical significance, design and shape has not disappeared.
There is currently no evidence that these surviving buildings are being cleared for demolition as part of the approved 14-unit scheme. Nor have I found an official proposal to demolish the technical area as a whole. However, there is also nothing to say they won’t.
Nevertheless, if further industrial development comes forward on adjoining land, the surviving buildings and other traces of the station could face increasing pressure. New buildings, roads, parking and infrastructure may change the setting of the old structures, even where the buildings themselves remain.
What are the excavations telling us?
The recent groundworks have also raised the question of archaeology.
Archaeological investigation is often required before major construction begins, particularly on land with a significant history. Excavations can identify buried foundations, concrete surfaces, drainage systems and other features that have survived beneath later development or agricultural use.
The former RAF station is certainly a site where such remains may exist. There may also be evidence of activity from much earlier periods. We know from previous excavations on other areas of the airfield that have now been developed, that Anglo Saxon and wartime artefacts, were discovered but were deemed as insignificant.
However, I have not been able to establish conclusively that the particular excavations currently visible are the archaeological work required for the new industrial units. Their appearance alone cannot prove that connection.
Inside the crew locker room. The far door is a modern addition.
It is reasonable to think that the work signals preparation for further development, but we must wait for documentary evidence before stating that this is what is happening.
The end of an era?
RAF Downham Market was an important part of Britain’s wartime air effort, later becoming associated with the Pathfinder Force and No. 635 Squadron. The station’s crews and ground personnel formed part of a much larger story of operations, sacrifice and service. Two airmen based at Downham were each awarded the Victoria Cross, almost unprecedented in wartime history.
Today, the landscape is very different. Fields, roads, businesses and modern development have replaced much of the airfield that wartime personnel would have recognised.
The surviving technical buildings are therefore more than old structures. They provide a physical link to the station’s working life and help us understand how the airfield operated.
Industrial development is not unusual on former RAF stations, and the needs of a modern community must be recognised. But there is also a responsibility to identify and record the historic remains before they are lost.
The current situation presents an opportunity to do that properly.
The wider allocation makes further development possible, but it does not establish exactly where or when it will happen, or which historic buildings might be affected.
So, is this the final nail in the coffin for Downham Market’s remaining wartime airfield?
It is too early to say. There is no evidence that the technical area is about to be demolished, but the landscape is changing and further industrial development remains a possibility.
For those of us who value the history of RAF Downham Market, the important thing is to watch what happens next, establish the facts and ensure that the remaining evidence of the station is properly recorded.
Once a wartime building or archaeological feature has been lost, it cannot simply be replaced.
Is the writing on the wall for these historic buildings?
The airfield has already surrendered much of its past to the passage of time. Whether the surviving remains can continue to tell their story alongside the new industrial landscape is a question that deserves attention.
in Part 1 of this trail, Twinwood was identified as a satellite airfield but gradually, as it grew, it became a station in its own right. However, development was slow, and it remained poorly equipped and overcrowded – it was not a pleasant place to be stationed. As we return in Part 2, things just get worse.
More personnel arrive and conditions worsen.
This use of Twinwood as a temporary airfield continued well into 1942. The first unit to arrive that year, transiting from Doncaster, was 613 Sqn, in early April. The advanced party travelled by road, leaving Doncaster at 09:00 hours on 10 April. The main party followed the next day, also by road, led by F.O. Adcock. They arrived at Twinwood that evening after a long ten-hour journey. A third group, travelling by rail, had arrived two hours earlier. Hot meals were prepared for the arriving personnel, providing a welcoming, if not false start to their new posting. The rear party, which closed up at Doncaster, arrived on the evening of 12 April, marking the beginning of a new episode in the squadron’s history.
On arrival at Twinwood, however, 613 Sqn found that the airfield was still under construction. Personnel from 51 OTU were settled in, whilst other accommodation was being occupied by 2791 Defence Squadron along with two additional Flights. Conditions were far from ideal. Some of the latrines were full, and a contractor had to be brought in to empty them. Worse still, 613 Sqn had no latrines specifically allocated to them and none were readily available elsewhere.
To add to the initial discomfort, an inspection by the Senior Medical Officers from both Cranfield and Group discovered that there was no hot water and no telephone available for 613 Sqn’s Senior Medical Officer. The medical facilities themselves were also totally inadequate for dealing with more serious cases.
It quickly became apparent that Twinwood was not going to be a particularly comfortable place to be, and soon personnel began to complain about the lack of proper food; tea and biscuits being provided after a hard day’s work rather than anything more substantial. All in all, it was far from the grand start they had been hoping for.
Operating in the Army Co-operation role, the squadron continued to perform daily flights, with the flying personnel and their aircraft mainly located at Western Zoyland. These flights consisted largely of quick-reaction scramble exercises in Tomahawks, known as FXQT, together with cross-country navigation exercises in Lysanders.
FXQTs were the equivalent of today’s QRA (Quick Reaction Alert), requiring aircraft to become airborne very quickly in response to an alert of an imminent threat. There were numerous false alarms, resulting in twenty-four FXQTs on 13 April and a further twenty-seven on 14 April.
It was during this period at Twinwood that 613 Sqn began upgrading its aircraft to the P-51 Mustang Mk.I, with ten being collected by aircrew, from Speke, on 15 April. With a further seventeen FXQT flights being made by the Tomahawks together with four flights ferrying personnel to Speke, it was a busy period at Twinwood, and all whilst training continued.
A spell of poor weather curtailed many exercises over the next few days, although some cross-country flights were made, along with air-to-air firing, photographic runs and supply drops. By 24 April, the skies had cleared and four airmen did manage to get their Mustangs airborne, gaining valuable experience on the new type.
Meanwhile, 51 OTU continued to operate its Blenheims. On 24 April, two of the aircraft suffered mishaps. In the first, a Sergeant Instructor with a Sergeant pupil-pilot and gunner were carrying out sodium flare landing practice when their aircraft landed too far along the runway. To avoid running off the end, the pilot swerved, careered across the flarepath and came to an ungainly rest just beyond it. A fire tender and ambulance were quickly on the scene, but there were no casualties and no fire broke out.
Later that same day, another Blenheim fell victim to a freak incident. After landing normally, its starboard engine suddenly burst into flames without warning. The crew quickly brought the aircraft to a halt and escaped, and once again the fire tender was quickly on the scene. However, while extinguishing the fire, chemical fluid used to douse the flames covered one of the crewmen, A/C Goodwin, who subsequently required treatment for his eyes. The situation was made more serious by the lack of a telephone for the medical officer.
Meanwhile, 613 Sqn’s problems on the airfield continued to develop. In a further attempt to ease the chronic storage problems, attention turned to the nearby Oakley Hunt kennels at Milton Ernest. The medical officer of No. 613 Squadron inspected the site with a view to commandeering it as a storage and motor transport (MT) maintenance facility.
Yet, like so many other efforts to solve the station’s difficulties, this promising solution quickly encountered another obstacle. Before the site could be used, the water supply from its well had to be tested. Sample bottles were obtained from RAF Halton, filled and dispatched for analysis. The results were deeply disappointing: the water was found to be contaminated by sewage and was therefore unfit for use. It was yet another setback in the seemingly endless struggle to turn Twinwood into a fully functioning and operational station.
For a short period in early May 1942, the weather improved and the crews of 613 Sqn made the best use of the opportunity. Aerobatics, formation flying, navigation exercises, combat flights and other training sorties quickly filled the better days.
Over the following weeks, the squadron collected more Mustangs, allowing an increasing number of training flights to be carried out.
It was midway through this period, on 11 June 1942, that Wing Commander Campbell-Voullaire arrived at Twinwood to form and take command of a new squadron, 169 Sqn. In preparation, a number of personnel were posted in to 613 Sqn as supernumeraries, ready to transfer directly to 169 Sqn when it became operational. Five unmodified Mustangs also arrived and awaited their new pilots.
Finally, at 00:01 hours on 15 June 1942, 169 Sqn officially came into being, and the personnel already posted in began to transfer across.
The following day, W. Cmdr. Campbell-Voullaire interviewed and addressed all the squadron personnel, explaining the reason for the squadron’s creation. He explained that, as soon as the Army invaded the continent, they would fly in support of the armoured divisions. Until then, he told them, each and every man should consider himself a member of the “fighting troops”, prepared to undertake whatever job was required. *5
Almost as soon as the squadron was formed, however, investigations began into the suitability of Doncaster as an alternative location for the unit. W. Cmdr. Campbell-Voullaire visited the airfield on several occasions over the following weeks to ascertain its suitability.
In the meantime, 169 Sqn continued to expand. The pilots and aircraft of ‘B’ Flight, 613 Sqn, formed the new ‘A’ Flight of 169 Sqn, while those personnel previously posted in formed its new ‘B’ Flight.
Over the next few days, additional vehicles arrived, along with two more unmodified Mustangs and a Tiger Moth. Tools and spares were less readily available however, and the ground crews had to rely on 613 Sqn for supplies. The unmodified Mustangs were essentially without radios, leaving their wireless operators with little to do. They were quickly attached to the squadron’s signals officer for further training.
With accommodation on the airfield now stretched even further, it was decided to billet the new crews of 169 Sqn at nearby Eastfield House. The food and bedding were considered ‘most satisfactory’, although the accommodation itself was somewhat overcrowded.
Living conditions at Twinwood remained an ongoing problem. The latrine arrangements had still not been fully resolved, and it was discovered that the contractor was emptying latrine buckets into the surrounding ground. An order was issued for this practice to cease, which it immediately did. On a more positive note, construction of more permanent accommodation was nearing completion, and some hopes were raised. While this offered hope for those stationed at Twinwood, it did little to relieve the immediate frustrations of crews still waiting for decent beds.
On 22 June, a further accident involving a 51 OTU Blenheim occurred. The aircraft, piloted by P.O. W. Gray, took off at 14:10 hours and crashed almost immediately, approximately two miles from the airfield. By the time the ambulance and crash team had arrived, P.O. Gray had climbed out of the Blenheim and had been given a lift to Bedford County Hospital, where he was admitted with injuries.
At 22:00 hours the following evening, No. 613 Squadron made history by carrying out its first night flight in the new Mustangs. Three pilots took off and completed the sortie without incident, marking another important milestone in the squadron’s transition to the new aircraft.
The achievement, however, was soon overshadowed by two events that tested the resilience of those at Twinwood. The first was relatively minor but nevertheless disruptive: the cameras being fitted to the Mustangs had been installed in an unsatisfactory position and had to be repositioned.
The second was a far greater tragedy. The body of AC2 R. Douglas was recovered from the River Ouse near Oakley Bridge, after he disappeared while bathing with colleagues. Despite efforts to find him, he had drowned, casting a sombre shadow over an already disappointing start.
At the end of June 1942, the many visits by 169 Sqn’s Wing Commander Campbell-Voullaire to the north, culminated in the movement of the squadron’s headquarters’ section to Doncaster. Fifty personnel went with them, leaving only a small detachment of aircraft and aircrew at Twinwood Farm. The move eased the pressure on accommodation slightly, but the problems faced by the station’s longstanding residents were by no means solved.
Throughout July, 613 Sqn carried out exercises with other squadrons at Sawbridgeworth, Snailwell, Castle Camps and Old Sarum. But the mood at Twinwood continued to deteriorate, with those remaining at the station now complaining on a regular basis.
This all came to a head on 7 July, when it was noted that the new huts intended exclusively for 613 Sqn had been completed. Yet officers, NCOs and junior ranks were still not allowed to use them, even though they stood just ten yards from where the men were currently sleeping. Much to the disapproval of the personnel, they were informed that they would have to wait until the entire site was completed before they could move into the new blocks.
If that wasn’t enough, the situation was then made worse by both the presence of the 169 Sqn detachment and an infestation of black beetles and earwigs in the old huts. Tempers began to fray.
169 Sqn was also experiencing problems of its own. On 4 July 1942, a crack was found in one of the hydraulic cylinders of a Mustang’s undercarriage during a routine inspection. As a result, all aircraft were grounded until remedial work could be carried out. However, the continuing shortage of spares and the tools needed to carry out the repairs did nothing to speed the process. The problem effectively nullified a new order to transfer all remaining aircraft and personnel to Doncaster.
Gradually, the necessary Mustang parts filtered through and repairs could be completed. Flights between Twinwood and the new station at Doncaster soon began and, before long, on 10 July, news arrived that fourteen fully modified Mustangs would soon be delivered to complement the unmodified aircraft already in use. Perhaps, at last, things were looking up for 169 Sqn.
As the situation appears to improve for 169 Sqn and those stationed at Twinwood, the future looks brighter. A new name and a new air force becomes linked to Twinwood and with it come new challenges.
The full story of Twinwood Farm can be found in Trail 67.
Every airfield has its heroes, and RAF Chelveston was no exception. Among the men who flew from the Northamptonshire base was 1st Lt. Edward Stanley Michael of the 364th Bomb Squadron. In April 1944, while flying a mission deep into Germany, he found himself at the centre of one of the most remarkable survival stories of the American air war. Wounded, outnumbered and flying a crippled aircraft, Michael’s determination to bring his crew home would earn him the Medal of Honour and secure his place in the history of RAF Chelveston.
Edward Stanley Michael was born on 2 May 1918 in Chicago to Stanley William Michael and Lillian Harriet Konior. He grew up in an industrial city defined by machinery, manufacturing and hard-edged practicality – an environment that perhaps influenced his early move into skilled technical work. He attended Chicago High School, graduating in 1936, and by 1940, was working as a machinist, a trade that demanded precision and patience in equal measure.
1st Lt. Michael (Wikipedia)
That practical grounding was interrupted by the growing pressures of global conflict. On 2 November 1940, he enlisted as a private in the United States Army Air Corps and was posted to Wheeler Field, Hawaii, where he was present during the Japanese attack of 7 December 1941. In 1942 he was selected for flight training, entering the demanding programme that transformed enlisted airmen into officers and pilots. By April 1943 he had earned his commission as a second lieutenant and completed both multi-engine and B-17 Flying Fortress training in Arizona and Washington State. It was during this period of intense preparation that he married Bertie Lee Parks in October 1943, later naming his B-17 Bertie Lee in her honour.
Serving with the 364th Bomb Squadron of the 305th Bomb Group at RAF Chelveston, Michael took part in numerous combat operations over occupied Europe and Germany. On 11 April 1944, he was piloting the B-17G Bertie Lee (42-37931) as part of a major bombing operation against targets in Germany, including the Focke-Wulf aircraft factory at Sorau. Other objectives for the 341 B-17s of the 1st Bomb Division included Cottbus, Dobberphul, Stettin and Trechel.
As the formation approached its target area, German fighters launched another ferocious frontal assault, a tactic that had proved highly effective against American bomber formations earlier in the air war. Michael’s aircraft, a Douglas-Long Beach B-17G-20-DL Flying Fortress (WF-D), soon became the focus of a determined enemy attack. To the crew, it appeared that the German fighters had singled them out, pressing home repeated assaults despite the presence of Allied escort fighters and the heavy defensive fire from the bomber formation.
The attack devastated the cockpit. Both Michael and his co-pilot, 2nd Lt. Franklin Westberg, were wounded, vital instruments were destroyed, oil coated the windscreen and the aircraft entered a 3,000-foot dive from which survival appeared impossible. With remarkable determination, Michael managed to regain control, only to discover that the bomb bay, still loaded with incendiaries, was on fire. Damage to the release mechanism meant the bombs could not be jettisoned, and the danger of an explosion increased with every passing moment.
The only apparent chance of survival was to bail out, so Michael gave the order. As the crew prepared to leave the aircraft, he was confronted by a horrific sight. Top turret gunner Jewel Philips was holding his injured eye in his hand while blood poured from a severe head wound. Despite his own injuries, Michael administered what aid he could before helping the gunner to the escape hatch. Philips was one of seven crewmen who managed to leave the aircraft.
With the co-pilot and the injured bombardier, Lt. Leiber, still on board, Michael decided that a crash landing offered their only realistic hope. While the crew fought to save the aircraft, the bombardier eventually succeeded in releasing the burning incendiaries. Through a series of violent evasive manoeuvres, Michael shook off the pursuing fighters and finally reached the relative safety of cloud cover.
Emerging from the clouds, the aircraft came under renewed attack from German flak. Michael brought the Fortress down to almost treetop height and headed towards England. Remarkably, the aircraft continued to respond despite the extensive damage it had suffered. They flew on for as long and as far as possible. Miraculously, they reached the English coast, but by now Michael was exhausted from his prolonged efforts and a severe thigh wound. The co-pilot took over, circling the aircraft while Michael recovered enough strength to attempt the landing himself.
With no hydraulics, the ball turret jammed in the lowered position, the undercarriage locked up and the bomb bay doors stuck open, the odds of survival remained heavily stacked against them. Against all odds, Michael retook control and brought Bertie Lee down at RAF Waltham near Grimsby in Lincolnshire, the damaged aircraft crunching and groaning across the grass before finally coming to a halt.
For his extraordinary actions and determination to save both his crew and aircraft, Michael received the Medal of Honour, the second such award made to a member of the 305th Bomb Group.
Bertie Lee after crash-landing at RAF Waltham (IWM UPL 40113)
1st Lt. Michael’s citation read*1:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty while serving as pilot of a B-17 aircraft on a heavy-bombardment mission to Germany, 11 April 1944.
The group in which 1st Lt. Michael was flying was attacked by a swarm of fighters. His plane was singled out and the fighters pressed their attacks home recklessly, completely disregarding the Allied fighter escort and their own intensive flak. His plane was riddled from nose to tail with exploding cannon shells and knocked out of formation, with a large number of fighters following it down, blasting it with cannon fire as it descended.
A cannon shell exploded in the cockpit, wounded the co-pilot, wrecked the instruments, and blew out the side window. First Lt. Michael was seriously and painfully wounded in the right thigh. Hydraulic fluid filmed over the windshield making visibility impossible, and smoke filled the cockpit. The controls failed to respond and 3,000 feet were lost before he succeeded in levelling off.
The radio operator informed him that the whole bomb bay was in flames as a result of the explosion of three cannon shells, which had ignited the incendiaries. With a full load of incendiaries in the bomb bay and a considerable gas load in the tanks, the danger of fire enveloping the plane and the tanks exploding seemed imminent. When the emergency release lever failed to function, 1st Lt. Michael at once gave the order to bail out and seven of the crew left the plane.
Seeing the bombardier firing the navigator’s gun at the enemy planes, 1st Lt. Michael ordered him to bail out as the plane was liable to explode any minute. When the bombardier looked for his parachute he found that it had been riddled with 20-mm fragments and was useless. First Lt. Michael, seeing the ruined parachute, realized that if the plane was abandoned the bombardier would perish and decided that the only chance would be a crash landing.
Completely disregarding his own painful and profusely bleeding wounds, but thinking only of the safety of the remaining crewmembers, he gallantly evaded the enemy using violent evasive action despite the battered condition of his plane. After the plane had been under sustained enemy attack for fully 45 minutes, 1st Lt. Michael finally lost the persistent fighters in a cloud bank.
Upon emerging, an accurate barrage of flak caused him to come down to treetop level where flak towers poured a continuous rain of fire on the plane. He continued into France, realizing that at any moment a crash landing might have to be attempted, but trying to get as far as possible to increase the escape possibilities if a safe landing could be achieved.
First Lt. Michael flew the plane until he became exhausted from loss of blood, which had formed on the floor in pools, and he lost consciousness. The co-pilot succeeded in reaching England and sighted an RAF field near the coast. First Lt. Michael finally regained consciousness and insisted upon taking over the controls to land the plane.
The undercarriage was useless; the bomb bay doors were jammed open; the hydraulic system and altimeter were shot out. In addition, there was no airspeed indicator, the ball turret was jammed with the guns pointing downward, and the flaps would not respond. Despite these apparently insurmountable obstacles, he landed the plane without mishap.
After the war, Michael remained in military service, transitioning through the post-war restructuring of American air power and into the newly established United States Air Force. He served in both air transport and operational roles across the United States and the Pacific, attended Air University, and later trained on the B-47 Stratojet during the early Cold War period—an aircraft type that would also become familiar at RAF Chelveston.
Among his many decorations were the Distinguished Flying Cross, Purple Heart and Air Medal with four oak leaf clusters. These, together with a long list of campaign and service awards, reflected a military career that spanned three decades, multiple theatres of operation and the transformation of American air power from the Second World War into the Cold War era. His service ultimately took him to the rank of lieutenant colonel before he retired in 1971 after 30 years in uniform.
Michael later married Louise Erdmann and remained active in military service until his retirement. He died on 19 May 1994 and is buried in Evergreen Cemetery, Springville, Utah County, Utah.
1st Lt. E Michael (kneeling right) with his crew 1943.(US Air Force)
Sources
*1 Congressional Medal of Honour website. Accessed 5 August 2025
The full story of RAF Chelveston can be read in Trail 66.
We saw in Part 3 how the USAAF’s 301st Bombardment Group transformed Chelveston into an operational heavy-bomber station, launching their first combat missions over Europe. Early operations brought the group face-to-face with enemy fighters, resulting in casualties and dramatic incidents, including a heavily damaged B-17 returning to RAF Gatwick and another ditching in the Channel. By late November, the 301st had departed for North Africa, leaving Chelveston ready to welcome its next unit, the 305th Bombardment Group.
These early battles gave great hope for the men of the 8th Air Force, with low losses they were perhaps, lured into a false sense of security and feelings of an easy battle ahead. But all that was to be washed away, when over the coming months, the 8th would become battle hardened and severely scarred.
Forging the ‘Can-Do’ Group: Col. Curtis LeMay and the 305th Bombardment Group
The 305th, who arrived here in early December 1942, were led by the tough and innovative Col. Curtis LeMay whose drive and leadership led to the rookie 305th, being known as the ‘Can do’ Group.
LeMay was a very quiet man, but commanded respect from those beneath him. He was slightly forgiving, but he would not tolerate being lied to. LeMay, never having been in battle himself, forged his career in the United States where he learnt every detail of the B-17, the bomber he was about to take to war. LeMay looked to the likes of Col. Armstrong for guidance, asking him question after question about his experiences and tactics, absorbing his advise like a sponge. Many of Armstrong’s answers he took strictly at face value, however, only to realise later, that perhaps Armstrong was not the man LeMay thought he was.
Through his leadership style, LeMay earned the title of ‘Iron Ass’, a grudging respect from those who followed him. The 305th, led by LeMay, would be a forward thinking group, one who would go on to develop pioneering methods of aerial bombing and battle formation flying.
The heavy armament of the B-17 gave the highest level of protection when in a tight formation, each gun covering a wide arc thus protecting all the others in the group. By forming a ‘box’, this level of protection was at its highest, a style developed by the 305th. With bombing accuracy becoming a major issue for the USAAF, the idea of a lead crew, was another idea stemming from the experiences of the 305th and LeMay. By having a single lead upon whom the whole formation would bomb, accuracy was improved and concentrations of bombs in the target area increased. Both these methods became standard operating procedures throughout the 8th Air Force during the Second World War.
The 305th like the 301st before them, and now their sister squadron the 306th at Thurleigh, were amongst the first few units to arrive in the UK, and as newbies with no battle experience, they faced an incredibly long and steep learning curve.
The 305th arrived in the UK forming initially at RAF Grafton Underwood around September 12th, 1942, bringing together both the ground and air echelons as they prepared to commence operations over Europe. The mud and cold that greeted them would quickly become their bed-partner, remaining with them for the duration of their wartime lives.
The conditions at Grafton were appalling and the airfield was totally unfit for a bomber unit. It would take an enormous amount of upgrading and huge renovations to improve it. This would mean the newly arrived 305th would have to move out, a move that signalled the beginning of their time at Chelveston. Over the Period 6th to 11th December, they transferred across, a temporary measure that quickly became permanent lasting the duration of the war.
Their journey to Chelveston began back at Salt Lake City where they were activated on March 1st 1942. They spent a large part of their training at Muroc Lake Air base (now Edwards Air Force base) before the ground echelon sailed on Queen Mary in early September, arriving at Greenock on 12th. The air echelon meanwhile didn’t leave until October, advanced flight training taking place at Syracuse, New York, in the weeks prior to their departure. Flying the usual northern route they brought their B-17Fs via Presque Isle, Gander and Prestwick, before routing to Grafton underwood.
Following Roosevelt’s controversial slimming down of the Eighth, the 305th, together with the 91st, 303rd and 306th, formed the only B-17 groups remaining in the command, while the 44th and 93rd were its sole B-24 units. Collectively, they constituted the backbone of an Eighth Air Force, stripped to little more than this handful of operational groups – a striking force reduced to a shadow of its intended strength. But then, even that would be cut back, with elements of the B-24s being sent to North Africa as well, and not returning to the UK until the following summer after which time, the B-17s had ‘flown the US’s flag’ over occupied Europe.
Fearing that heavy losses would catastrophically reduce the remaining groups to a handful of aircraft and crews, Spatz and Eaker mounted relatively ‘safe’ operations, those featuring little penetration into the European stronghold. However, the chances of loses, even at those short distances, continued to remain high.
Tactics and Innovation: The 305th’s Early Combat Lessons
The 305th’s first mission would happen a month after their arrival at Grafton on 17th November 1942 against the U-boat pens at St. Nazaire. It was during these early missions that the Luftwaffe pilots worked out that a full frontal attack on a B-17 would target it’s weakest point – a blind spot in the gunners forward arc. Here, the fighters had both a better chance of survival and the ability to cripple an aircraft by killing both its pilot and co-pilot in a well aimed attack.
To combat this weakness. two innovative Thurleigh ground crew devised a method by which the nose guns could be moved and supported thus filling the gap in the arc. After developing and trialling the new fixture, the system quickly became standard fittings on later B-17s across the air force.
For the 305th, the otherwise fierce attack of 17th November proved a rare exception: they returned without a single casualty – one of only a handful of units to do so – despite nearly a quarter of the dispatched aircraft sustaining damage from concentrated machine-gun and cannon fire.
These early battles highlighted a stark reality: losses and damage were disproportionately high when set against the relatively small numbers of aircraft taking part. LeMay, latched onto this, and quickly became the driving force behind efforts to improve both survival and bombing effectiveness.
After being told by Armstrong never to fly straight and level for more than a few seconds on the bomb run, LeMay did exactly the opposite, leading his group for some 4 minutes toward the target. Whilst this tactic was indeed a gamble, the 305th’s bombing record was soon to be far in excess of other groups especially those who followed the Armstrong doctrine.
LeMay, encouraged by these successes, also began experimenting with new combat formations, seeking a balance between maximising defensive firepower and reducing the risk of bombers damaging one another in the chaos of fighter attacks. His solution was the development of the staggered ‘box’ formation, arranged both vertically and horizontally. To preserve bombing accuracy and avoid aircraft jostling for position, all bombers would release their loads simultaneously on the lead aircraft’s command. These methods proved to be so effective that they were also quickly adopted as standard practice throughout the entire Eighth Air Force.
In the next part of Chelveston’s history, we see the 305th pushed to the limits of courage and endurance, facing punishing winter raids over the U-boat pens and the heart of Germany. Crews battled flak, fighters, freezing conditions, and the strain of inexperienced personnel, while stories of survival, heroism, and narrow escapes emerged from each mission. Just as morale teetered under the weight of losses, the airfield itself was officially handed over to full American control – yet even this milestone could not prepare them for the next series of deadly operations that would test the 305th like never before.
In Part 2 we saw how RAF Chelveston opened in August 1941 under RAF Bomber Command’s 2 Group while construction and runway extensions continued to bring the station up to heavy-bomber standards. Early activity centred on training and experimental work, including operations by the Central Gunnery School and airborne trials carried out by the Airborne Forces Experimental Establishment. The arrival of the American 60th Transport Group in mid-1942 introduced the first USAAF presence at the airfield, and although their stay was brief before departing for North Africa, senior Allied visits soon followed, hinting that Chelveston’s role was about to change significantly.
Chelveston Goes to War: Early Operations of the 301st
A change in management led to Major Kincaid (USAAF) assuming responsibility for the control of RAF Chelveston just before the station’s first formal operational unit, the USAAF’s 301st Bombardment Group (BG), was preparing to arrive. His oversight ensured that the transition from a training and transit airfield to an active bomber station proceeded smoothly.
With Chelveston now upgraded to accommodate heavy bombers, the newly arrived B‑17F Flying Fortresses of the 301st BG became the first operational aircraft to fly from the airfield. In taking up residence, the group inherited the original ‘J’-type hangar, a distinctive but unusual feature on USAAF bases, as few American stations were equipped with them.
The 301st’s journey to the UK began at Geiger Field in Washington, before flying the northern route via Greenland and Iceland to Prestwick, arriving here with twenty aircraft, 115 officers, one warrant officer and 1,395 enlisted men.
On arriving at Chelveston in mid-August 1942, the group was far from operational readiness, a situation compounded by the lack of accommodation for all four squadrons. As a temporary measure, the 352nd Bomb Squadron moved to the satellite station at RAF Poddington. It was not until 2nd September, when the RAF anti-aircraft regiment transferred from Chelveston to RAF Ludham in Norfolk, that the squadron could return, reuniting the group once more.
With all four squadrons, the 32nd, 352nd, 353rd, and 419th, all now together at Chelveston, operations could begin, and it wouldn’t be long before they did.
As with most early operations, the first few were to coastal targets in France and the low countries, considered easier targets or ‘milk runs’, they were initially designed to acclimatise crews to combat conditions.
The Group’s initiation to the European theatre occurred on 2nd September 1942. An operation that took them to the locomotive engine sheds at Rouen. During the operation, twelve aircraft jointly from the 352nd and 419th set off to drop their payload on the target. Two aircraft returned early, one from each squadron, leaving the remainder to drop their 40 x 1,000lb bombs on the locomotive sheds. With no losses, it was a relatively successful start to their wartime journey.
The 301st would be in action again on the 6th, with thirteen aircraft despatched but only eleven being effective. On this occasion, the Eighth AF suffered their first heavy bomber losses with two aircraft (one each from the 92nd and 97th Bomb Groups) going down; the 301st on the other hand would see all their aircraft return. With two more ‘uneventful’ operations on the 7th and the 26th, September drew to a close with little to report.
The first casualties for the group occurred on October 2nd, with a twenty-five ship operation to the Meaulte aircraft factory. Whilst all aircraft returned, one was forced to crash land at RAF Gatwick after three of the aircrew on board were wounded by enemy fighter attacks.
The 301st BG found itself squarely in the sights of the Luftwaffe that day, and at the rear of the formation B-17 41‑24397 ‘Phyllis’ bore the worst of the punishment. As the tail-end Charlie, she was repeatedly singled out by attacking Fw-190s. One pass after another tearing into the aircraft, smashing the top turret and badly wounding the gunner inside. Moments later the outboard starboard engine began to run wildly out of control, while further damage left the inboard engine completely dead.
With control cables severed, ‘Phyllis’ pitched violently, rearing into a steep climb that the crew struggled to contain. As if the situation were not already desperate, part of the oxygen system failed, further increasing the danger faced by those on board. Damage to the wing and control surfaces meant that simply holding level flight demanded the full attention and cooperation of the entire crew, and even then it could not be sustained for long.
At last, British soil came into view. Spotting the first airfield they could, the pilot headed for RAF Gatwick. Given the aircraft’s battered condition and the risks involved, they elected to make a wheels-up landing – often the safest option under such circumstances. ‘Phyllis’ came down and skidded across the airfield, clipping a hangar before finally safely coming to a rest.
B-17 ‘Phyllis’ of the 301st BG after crash-landing at RAF Gatwick. (IWM UPL 36745).
Only afterwards did the full extent of her ordeal become clear. The aircraft was found to have absorbed around 300 small-calibre hits, at least sixteen cannon shell penetrations, and evidence of concentrated fire around the tail. Three members of the crew had been wounded, and it was little short of remarkable that the bomber had remained airborne for as long as it did. That survival owed much to the skill and determination of the pilots, the teamwork of the crew, and the inherent strength of the B-17’s construction.*8
A subsequent mission on the 9th October to the Compagnie de Fives steel works at Lille, France, saw further casualties for the 301st, and for the first time, an Eighth Air Force bomber ditching in the sea.
The B-17, 41-24362, piloted by 1st. Lt. Donald M. Swenson, was badly damaged by fighters knocking out or damaging, three of the four engines, causing the aircraft to lose altitude rapidly. Swenson, with the intercom out of action, gave the controls to the co-pilot and went back to instruct each member of the crew to prepare for ditching. With rough seas, it was not going to be easy, and even though the crew were prepared, some were caught off guard by the 15 – 20 foot swell and were thrown about the aircraft causing minor injuries as they did so.
After the aircraft came to rest on the water, most of the crew escaped through the gun port, while the pilot and co-pilot forced their way out through the cockpit windows. To their dismay, only one of the life rafts proved serviceable, the other having been damaged by gunfire in the attacks. Three of the airmen were able to climb aboard the intact raft, while the remainder could do no more than cling to its sides. Having discarded their sheepskin flying jackets – which quickly became waterlogged and dangerously heavy – they remained in the sea roughly a mile off North Foreland (Margate).
Luckily on the way down, the radio operator had sent out a may-day giving their position to the RAF’s Rescue Service who were quickly on the scene. Once there, they managed to successfully retract each crewmember from the water.
But, the story behind the aircraft goes a little deeper than being the first successful ditching by a USAAF aircraft. The B-17 was initially earmarked for RAF service, as a MK II FA667, through the lend-lease agreement, but was diverted to the USAAF at the last minute. Then, on only its third operation with the 301st, and just before the aircraft departed on its flight, one of the ground crew, M. Sgt. Glenn Doerr, persuaded the pilot to allow him to fly with them without official permission – a decision he would no doubt regret. However, his part in the rescue of the crew must have played a large part in redeeming his misdemeanour, no doubt, thereby, reducing the severity of his punishment on his return to Chelveston.
On November 8th, the 301st would perform their final mission as part of the 8th Air Force, as on the 23rd, a mere three months after their arrival in the UK, they were ordered to relocate to the 12th Air Force in Algeria.
Like the 60th TCG, the 301st (and 97th at Polebrook), were all ordered out under the direction of Roosevelt, who, influenced by Churchill, sent units to bolster the war in North Africa. Churchill – fearing that an inadequate invasion force sent to Northern France would be decimated – persuaded Roosevelt to postpone the invasion and concentrate on bolstering the Africa campaign instead.
Eisenhower, the commander picked by Roosevelt to lead Operation Torch, was bitterly opposed to the plan, and when Henry H. Arnold (General of the Army; Commanding General, U.S. Army Air Forces) was informed, he too was furious. The move would strip back the fledgling Eighth Air Force, almost killing it before it even got off the ground.
Despite their misgivings though, the various groups departed the UK and headed for North Africa, the 301st leaving Chelveston far behind.
During their brief tenure at the airfield, the 301st completed just eight operational missions, losing just a single aircraft in actual combat. Between the 8th and 23rd of the month they were formally designated ‘non-operational’ while preparations for their relocation were put in hand.
Their departure was marked by a visit from King George VI, who toured the station in the company of Col. R. Walker, Commanding Officer of the 301st, and Squadron Leader Robert Clayton.
King George VI with Colonel Robert Walker and Squadron Leader Robert Clayton during a visit to the 301st Bomb Group at Chelveston. (IWM FRE 9802).
The 301st’s departure from Chelveston on 26th November, would then leave the airfield all but empty and ready for a new group, and it would be another B-17 group, the 305th, that would fill that space.
In Part 1, we saw how RAF Chelveston began its life in 1940 on land straddling the Bedfordshire–Northamptonshire border as part of Britain’s wartime airfield expansion programme. Initially referred to as Shelton during planning, the station opens in 1941 with basic grass runways before gradually developing into a standard three-runway bomber airfield. In time it would pass into American control as USAAF Station 105.
1941 – From Opening to Operational Beginnings:
Chelveston airfield officially opened its doors on August 15th 1941, as RAF Chelveston, and initially fell under the control of Flying Officer J.B. Townsend, 2 Group, RAF Bomber Command. Still in the process of construction, the airfield was parented by RAF Polebrook, a relationship that dissolved upon Chelveston gaining its full self-governing status on 2nd September that same year.
To provide protection from attack, RAF Podington (now the Santa Pod drag strip) was allocated as a satellite station, and a decoy or ‘Q’ site (Q144A) was constructed at Swineshead. In addition to these measures, an airfield defence unit, 2819 Defence Squadron, was established here with twelve Bofor anti-aircraft guns, providing protection from any roaming enemy aircraft.
Immediately on transfer of the airfield to the RAF, permission was granted to extend the three runways, the main from 4,100 ft to 6,000 ft and the second from 3,700 ft to 4,167 ft. The third, would remain at 3,700 ft for the time being. These extensions, along with further general updating, would eventually bring the airfield up to the Class ‘A’ standard format, making it suitable for the allied heavy bomber fleet. However, progress was slow, and this degree of modernisation would not be achieved for another two years or so.
Construction work therefore continued well into 1942. In addition to the runway extensions, the bulk of the ‘frying pan’ style dispersals were also added, and the accommodation area was extended, enabling upward of some 3,000 personnel to be located here. The bomb store was also added at this point, and the technical area was extended to include a wider range of technical buildings and stores.
The RAF’s 2 Group remained in control of Chelveston for only two months, ownership then transferring to 8 Group in October 1941. 8 Group were a former World War 1 group, who would go on to disband and reform again later, as the famous ‘Pathfinders’ under Donald Bennett.
Although 8 Group was a bomber group, Chelveston’s first resident flying unit would not reflect that role. The new runways, not yet fully completed and strengthened, were incapable of bearing the heavy loads imposed by Bomber Command’s aircraft. Instead, The small, light aircraft of the Central Gunnery School (CGS) were brought in as a temporary measure, giving the unit a much-needed operating base. Lacking a permanent home and sufficient space to operate, the school also maintained a presence at nearby RAF Thurleigh, effectively dividing its activities between the two airfields. The CGS was a long standing organisation, made up of several components including the Pilot Gunnery Instructor’s Training Wing, and were destined to eventually move to RAF Sutton Bridge in Lincolnshire. The CGS, being a training unit, trained gunnery instructors for both fighters and bombers.
From British Training to American Arrival: Chelveston in Transition
The CGS remained at Chelveston only briefly, departing in stages during February and March 1942 once the extension and upgrading works had been largely completed. Initially, part of the training wing relocated to RAF Wittering in Cambridgeshire, before re-joining the remainder of the unit at Sutton Bridge in Lincolnshire the following month. Once reunited, the CGS became one of the largest, single training establishments of the war.
The lull at Chelveston between the CGS’s departure and the arrival of its successor proved far from uneventful though. On 8th May 1942, a tragic accident occurred – and one that was witnessed by only a handful of observers. On that day, a visiting Wellington IC (R1412) of No. 21 OTU, RAF Moreton-in-Marsh, landed at Chelveston and promptly began transferring aircrew to another aircraft preparing to depart. One of the passengers – Air Gunner Sgt. Matthew Callaghan (s/n: 1069247), RAFVR – stepped down from the Wellington and headed over towards the waiting aircraft. Distracted momentarily, he misjudged his position and was killed when he ran into a spinning propellor of the Wellington. He was just a week short of his 27th birthday.*2*3
The tragedy didn’t stop progress though, and two days later a small detachment of the Airborne Forces Experimental Establishment (AFEE)*4 arrived at Chelveston. This small unit was present to test airborne equipment and techniques – the methods and apparatus used to transport men and materiel to the battlefield.
Tracing its origins to the Central Landing School at RAF Ringway in June 1940, the AFEE was established in response to Churchill’s directive for a corps of expert parachutists; later expanding its remit to include gliders and, eventually, rotary-wing aircraft.
At Chelveston though, the newly developed AFEE would use Airspeed Horsa gliders along with their tow aircraft, both the Whitley and the Short Stirling, to test safe loading methods for a range of equipment. A specialist unit, they would go on to test both the General Aircraft Hotspur glider and the Hamilcar, adding to those which provided much needed transport to the continent on both D-day and in Operation ‘Market Garden’.
It was during one of these trials, on 3rd June 1942, that the airframe of Hotspur BT500, suffered severe stress resulting in the aircraft breaking up in mid-air near to the small village of Denford in Northamptonshire. Luckily, the two crew, both of whom were Polish, managed to bale out of the glider, one suffering minor injuries as he did so.
Later in that same June, Chelveston received its second airborne group, an arrival that suggested a potential new owner in the months to come. The American unit, the 60th Transport Group (TG), comprised of the 10th, 11th and 12th Transport Squadrons operating a variant of the C-47 Dakota. They arrived in staggered sections bringing with them ninety-three officers along with 727 other ranks and fifty-two aircraft all under the command of Lieutenant Colonel A. J. Kerwin Malone. *5
This initial American allocation, would indeed lead to a new ownership of RAF Chelveston. But, with no immediate official ceremony, the change was gradual, and ownership wouldn’t be cemented until the end of the year once all the resident British units had departed.
Activated on 1st December 1940, at Olmsted Air Field in Pennsylvania, the 60th Transport Group was one of the oldest transport groups in the United States Army Air Force, and is said to be the first to deploy overseas to the European theatre of operations*6. Following its initial training period, the unit prepared for overseas service, with the ground echelon crossing to the United Kingdom onboard the Queen Elizabeth, while the air echelon made the longer, northern transatlantic journey via Greenland; arriving in England around 12th June 1942.
On arrival, the men of the 60th were formally briefed on their conduct both on and off the station, and reflecting common fears of attack, were instructed to carry firearms at all times. Supported by a detachment of RAF personnel led by Squadron Leader Clayton, they also received instruction on the operation of British airfields and the complexities of a busy UK airspace.
Initially, the group’s role centred on transporting goods between air depots and operational airfields, but this sedate role was soon changed to training with the US Army’s airborne 2nd Battalion, 503rd Parachute Infantry Regiment. This relationship lead to the battalion’s first parachute jump over England. As their responsibilities grew, the 60th also began training for specialised operations, a shift formally recognised in mid-July 1942 with its redesignation as the 60th Troop Carrier Group.
Paratroopers of the 503rd US Parachute Infantry Regiment prepare to board a C-47 Skytrain of the 60th Troop Carrier Group.. Another C-47 (serial number 41-7767) is visible in the background (Not Chelveston FRE3377).
However, the 60th’s stay at Chelveston would also be short lived; in early August, they departed the airfield stopping off briefly at RAF Aldermaston before transiting to the 12th Air Force and the North Africa campaign. On departure, they took the airborne forces with whom they had been training, with them. Whilst in North Africa, they would take part in many airborne operations including both the invasion of Sicily and the liberation of Greece, remaining in the Mediterranean theatre for the duration of the war.
The departure of the 60 TCG was not as smooth as one would wish for however. The poor British weather hampered the move, causing it to be delayed on several occasions. When it did finally get away, the second section had to make an unscheduled stop at a nearby airfield as it was approached by a lone German Me110 fighter. Intercepted by RAF Spitfires, the roaming 110 was quickly despatched and the TCG were allowed to continue on their way unhampered. *7
After their departure, Chelveston received a series of visits and inspections by senior Allied figures. These visits sparked rumours of an impending change in operations, and began with Group Captain Donald ‘Don’ Bennett, commander of the newly-formed Pathfinder Force within RAF Bomber Command, who was accompanied by Colonel Duncan of the USAAF. A few days later, the airfield was visited by Brigadier General Ira C. Eaker. It was in the aftermath of Eaker’s visit that ownership of Chelveston truly changed, marking the beginning of a new chapter in the airfield’s long and distinguished career.
In the next part of Chelveston’s history, we see the airfield finally step onto the operational stage. With the arrival of the USAAF’s 301st Bombardment Group and the first B-17 Flying Fortresses, the station began launching real combat missions over occupied Europe. What followed were the opening operations, early trials, and first losses that marked Chelveston’s transition from a developing airfield into an active participant in the Allied air offensive.
In Trail 66, we return to the Bedfordshire and Northamptonshire borderlands to visit the site of another former bomber airfield that has been almost entirely erased from the landscape. Although its wartime service was relatively brief, it was defined by intense operational pressures, loss, and remarkable acts of heroism.
Despite continuing in use well into the Cold War and beyond, the airfield failed to leave the regional mark it deserved. Over time, its purpose changed and its structures were gradually removed, the land being adapted to modern energy use, leaving little visible evidence of its former importance. This transformation stands in contrast to the role the station once played and the legacy it holds today.
Home to a small number of RAF units, it was predominately an American base during the Second World War, and remained with them into the depths of the Cold War. Although flying activity ceased in 1962 with the departure of the modern United States Air Force, a military presence remained there until the Ministry Of Defence (MOD) sold the site as recently as 2005.
Whilst some aspects of the original airfield do remain, the vast majority has been decommissioned and removed, including the runways, works buildings and training facilities, leaving little more than ghostly evidence behind.
In this part of our trip to Northants and Bedfordshire, we visit the former RAF Chelveston.
RAF Chelveston (Station 105).
RAF Chelveston (Station 105) lies across the two counties of Bedfordshire and Northamptonshire, and although the border crosses roughly through the centre, the majority of the site lies in Northampton. Like many wartime airfields it went through a series of name changes depending upon who owned it at the time. Today it is known as Chelveston Renewable Energy Park, reflecting its modern use as the ‘centre of technological innovation’ capable of producing enough electricity, to power 60,000 properties.*1
During the planning stages in 1940 the aerodrome site was briefly referred to as Shelton, after the nearby village to the east. Before the station officially opened in 1941, however, the name was changed and it entered service as RAF Chelveston, the official British designation. Later in the war the airfield passed into American control and was designated Station 105 by the United States Army Air Force. Over the years though, it was also referred to as RAF Station Chelveston, and simply Chelveston Aerodrome, reflecting both its early planning name and the variety of roles it fulfilled throughout its operational history.
The land upon which the airfield sits, lies approximately four miles to the east of Rushden and about twenty-seven miles south-west of Peterborough. It shares a region – designated by a Peterborough, Northampton and Bedford triangle – with a number of other former bomber airfields including Kimbolton, Thurleigh and Molesworth.
The land for Chelveston (a name derived from a Norman family) was acquired by the Air Ministry in 1940, with construction beginning shortly afterwards. The airfield was initially intended for the RAF and the reformed 8 Group, with Taylor-Woodrow Ltd serving as the main contractor. At first, it had grass runways and minimal storage, consisting of a single ‘J’-type brick-and-metal hangar measuring 300 ft by 151 ft. Later, two ‘T2’-type metal hangars were added, each 240 ft long, 115 ft wide, and 29 ft high. The original design fell under development scheme ‘M’ of the Government’s expansion programme, which essentially replaced the earlier ‘C’-type hangars with the newer ‘J’-type. Since construction began during the war rather than before it, accommodation sites were dispersed away from the main airfield site – unlike pre-war designs, where living quarters were typically located on-site.
At Chelveston, these accommodation sites were positioned to the south-west of the airfield, unusually close to the main runway’s flightpath – in-fact within just a few hundred feet of its threshold. In all there were twelve accommodation sites, supplemented by two sewerage sites, giving a total of fourteen in all. These accommodation areas included: two communal sites, officers’ quarters, enlisted men’s quarters, sick quarters, and a large WAAF area with its own sewerage facilities.
The all important technical area, lay directly across the dividing public road from here; a little further north than the accommodation area and on the western side of the main airfield. It included a wide range of buildings including: MT (motor transport) sheds, operations blocks, briefing rooms, link trainers, stores, flight offices, works offices and the like.
Typical of the range of buildings found on any wartime airfield, they were a mix of both temporary and permanent construction. The manufacturers involved were also typical of those pertaining to wartime airfields: Laing, Romney, SECO, Ministry of Works and Nissen, who used a variety of construction materials including timber, iron, plasterboard, brick and concrete to create these various standard design structures.
On the main airfield itself, No. 1 runway ran north-east to south-west, whilst No. 2 dissected it in a north-west to south-east direction. The third runway, No.3, ran just off north to south. The classic ‘A’ frame was created by the crossing of all three in the centre of the airfield with the runways extending extensively beyond this point. As in all cases, the three runways were linked by a circular perimeter track, around which eventually, some fifty-five hardstands were built; both a mix of ‘spectacle’ and ‘frying-pan’ types.
As with all airfields of its kind, a bomb store would be incorporated well away from the accommodation and technical areas, and in Chelveston’s case this was just off to the north-east. Here, a number of hardened shelters were interlinked by small tracks along which the bombs were transported to the various aircraft dispersals.
Bombs being man-handled at Chelveston. (IWM FRE10440).
Overseeing movements in and out of the airfield was the watch office, which stood proud with clear views across the airfield. Located to the western side of the site, the office was built to drawing 518/40 – the largest and most common wartime design. This particular build evolved from the 1939 drawing, number 5845/39, and incorporated the meteorological office within its layout. By combining both functions into a single structure, it enabled the rapid exchange of vital weather information.
Chelveston’s construction began in 1940 on land straddling the Bedfordshire-Northamptonshire border. A basic airfield to start with, it soon began to develop and grow, all part of Britain’s rapid wartime airfield expansion programme. Over the next few months it would grow and develop into a standard three-runway bomber airfield complete with dispersals, technical buildings, bomb stores and extensive accommodation sites. Though the landscape has since been transformed into the modern Chelveston Renewable Energy Park, the wartime layout still hints at the scale and ambition of the original station.
The story of how this quiet stretch of countryside evolved from construction site to operational wartime airfield begins in Part 2, as RAF Chelveston opens its runways and the station starts its journey toward becoming an important Allied base.
Part 3 took us through the 1920s and 1930s in the life of Sutton Bridge. As the war opened, the airfield swung between roles with remarkable speed. From a brief stint as a recruit training centre to hosting newly formed 264 and 266 Squadrons, the airfield grappled with scarce aircraft, harsh winter weather, and early operational mishaps. Defiants, Blenheims, and then Spitfires tested both pilots and crews, while accidents and maintenance challenges were constant. By early 1940, with the squadrons gone, Sutton Bridge pivoted once more, becoming a hub for new recruits and small training flights, laying the groundwork for its next vital role as 6 Operational Training Unit.
The Birth of 6 Operational Training Unit
6 OTU were created on March 10th, 1940 from the ashes of 11 Group Pilot Pool who were up until then based at RAF St. Athan. They had been established specifically to train front line fighter pilots who had already mastered the basics of flying and were to be ‘polished’ up before passing on to front line operational squadrons.
Following the initial administration and setting up of the unit, a small party of four non-commissioned officers and twelve airmen, arrived here at Sutton Bridge. They were followed a few days later by the main party including six officers and ten further airmen. Once established, the unit would be commanded by Sqn. Ldr. Philip C. Pinkham, who led the first course for trainees beginning March 11th 1940.
Pinkham was responsible to the Station Commander, the recently promoted Wing Commander Philip R. Barwell, who had even as a Station Commander, remained a keen flyer. To meet his insatiable demand for flying, Barwell would take any opportunity to fly that passed his way, often pulling rank, he would fly in as many aircraft as he could, frequently in the guise of that common excuse an ‘air test’. The new OTU would offer a great opportunity for Barwell, operating a mix of aircraft types but mainly Hurricanes, Masters, Fairy Battles, Battle trainers and a Gladiator.
The early days of the OTU here however, were not as grand as many would have hoped. Yet another lack of serviceable aircraft combined with the poor Fen weather of 1940, led to a reduction of available flying days, and so one day a week the airfield would close with a ‘day off’ being given to those stationed here – hardly reflective of a war mentality.
Training for War: Sutton Bridge under the Spotlight
The part-time attitude to the job didn’t reduce the seriousness of their efforts though, and a visit by dignitaries including, as suggested in some sources, Hugh Dowding, the AOC Fighter Command, made sure they were aware of that.
On May 3rd 1940, Air Chief Marshal Sir Edgar Ludlow-Hewitt, the Inspector-General of the Royal Air Force, also paid a formal visit to Sutton Bridge. Crossing the airfield’s runways and observing the pilots in action, he took careful note of the station’s flying operations and training routines. His inspection combined a keen eye for detail with practical recommendations, aimed at refining instruction and ensuring operational readiness. The visit, recorded in Report No. 11, highlighted both the strengths of the airfield and the areas that required attention, underscoring Sutton Bridge’s vital role in Britain’s initial wartime training programme.*11
Hewitt’s inspection highlighted significant challenges at the OTU. Gunnery practice for visiting units relied on firing at four 20-foot target drogues, towed from the beam by the OTU’s four Henley aircraft. The training, however, was severely limited by the condition of the Henleys; a shortage of spare parts often meant that only one or two aircraft could operate at any time. Accurate gunnery depended heavily on the steady towing of the targets. Additionally, Hewitt was sceptical of the OTU’s claim that the large, slowly moving targets “get shot to bits at once.” His observations highlighting how mechanical constraints could, and did, directly impact the effectiveness of instructor and trainee practice.
Despite all these challenges though, courses rapidly progressed, and soon foreign nationals who had joined the RAF, began to arrive. These included those not only those from the Commonwealth but the European countries invaded by the Nazis along with a handful from the United States: all eager to join up before the US officially joined the war.
There would of course be many casualties during these courses, some due to mechanical issues, many due to pilot error, learning to fly a combat aircraft under combat conditions being a very risky business indeed. Many of these casualties form the sixty – joined by a single Luftwaffe airman – graves less than a mile away in the St. Matthew’s Church yard in Sutton Bridge.
A change in fortune meant that the increase in trainees also meant an increase in aircraft. By the middle of the year 6 OTU were operating thirty-four Hurricanes in addition to the odd twenty or so other types present here although they were still classed as ‘unserviceable’. Combine these with visiting detachments and the sky over Sutton Bridge soon became an incredibly busy airspace.
The ever increasing numbers of aircraft using the site inevitably led to a demand for more hangar space, and in May 1940, the first of two Bellman hangars were erected on the site, thus extending its ability to service damaged aircraft.
Following the fall of France, Britain stood alone, and many of the front line pilots at her disposal were either tired veterans or recently qualified and inexperienced, and so more crews were needed if they were to stand any chance of repelling the Germans, who so far, had rolled virtually unopposed across Europe. Many of these veterans of France, were now being posted into the training stations to train new pilots in the tactics and airman-ship that would hopefully save their lives. Sutton Bridge was no different, the record books for this period list endless postings in of these front line pilots as instructors, many holding DFCs or DFMs in reward for their action over France. One of those to arrive here was F. Off. Derek Dowding the son of Air Chief Marshal Hugh Dowding, the recruits were indeed in the company of the noble, Derek having the title ‘Honourable.’
F.O. Derek H.T. Dowding (right) with his father Hugh Dowding. (Battle of Britain Monument archive)
Training at a Cost: Accidents and Fatalities at 6 OTU
Life at Sutton Bridge was not without risk, even for the instructors. Sergeant Charles Cotton being the first from 6 OTU to suffer. On 25th June 1940, he sadly crashed after having only arrived about three weeks earlier at the airfield. Cotton was performing low level aerobatics near to the village of Upwell, not far from Sutton Bridge, when the Hurricane he was flying was seen to climb from low level, possibly stall and then dive nose first into the boggy Fen ground. The aircraft buried itself deep in the soil, leaving little trace on the surface of its demise.
The next day a recovery truck tried to remove the wreckage, but the boggy ground combined with limited access, made recovery difficult. With perseverance though, Sgt. Cotton’s remains were eventually removed from the aircraft whereupon he was taken to his home town in Essex and laid to rest.
To meet pilot demand, courses were cut from six weeks to two, increasing the already immense pressure on trainees to complete their flying training. This pressure often led to mistakes being made. Between June and November there were no less than eleven fatalities, six of which were involved in airborne collisions.
One such incident occurred on August 18th, when Sgt. Dudley McGee and Sqn. Ldr. Kazimierz Niedwiecki were involved in a collision in the skies to the east of Sutton Bridge. The pair were performing aerial combat techniques when the collision happened causing the death of both pilots. Niedwiecki, a Polish airman, had only just arrived at the airfield from 15 Elementary Flying Training School (EFTS) in Carlisle, a grading school for Polish pilots; whilst McGee had arrived two days after Niedwiecki from Ternhill’s 10 Flying Training School (FTS). Both airmen were experienced flyers, and so it is feasible that the pressure of getting through the course and onto active duty was a factor in their demise.
After colliding, Niedwiecki’s Hurricane came down on farmland near Terrington St. Clements whilst McGee’s fell near to Walpole Cross Keys a few miles away. Once recovered, both the pilots were buried in St. Matthews Church Yard in Sutton Bridge.
Instructors of Note: The Arrival of Bill Waterton
Dowding’s son was not the only notable person to instruct at Sutton Bridge. During the late autumn of 1940, one William ‘Bill’ Waterton was posted in to Sutton Bridge by his Squadron Commander Douglas Bader of 242 Squadron RAF Coltishall. Waterton had been in hospital for three months following a head injury suffered in a crash whilst providing cover over Dunkirk. He came to Sutton Bridge as an instructor and proved to be an exceptionally good one. It was a move that kick started a change in career for him that would change his life forever. However, at Sutton Bridge, providing instruction to other pilots was not enough for Waterton, and he yearned for a return to front line operations.
Waterton never got this move, instead he was sent to Canada, returning to the UK in 1943 on a posting to RAF Fighter Command and the Air Fighting Development Unit (AFDU) at RAF Wittering. Here he tested many captured German aircraft, pitting them against RAF fighters to see how they performed. Post war, he would fly a Gloster Meteor in an attempted world speed record achieving speeds in excess of 600mph. Speaking frankly and to the point, he would leave the RAF to fly for Gloster, the makers of the Meteor, and become a very successful test pilot pushing aircraft to their limits and nudging the much sought after sound barrier.
Being known for his ‘forthright’ attitude, Waterton achieved great things in aviation research, an achievement that was kick-started by his duties at RAF Sutton Bridge. *12 *13
Foreign Trainees and the Cost of Speed
As summer turned to Autumn and August to September, the RAF were losing pilots at an unsustainable rate, and Dowding needed many more and quickly. With many trainee pilots in the OTUs being foreign, and with poor English, he had little choice but to rush them through courses and get them into front-line units. The first Czech course consisted of some twenty airmen and lasted from 17th August to 11th September 1940. Virtually all of these went on to serve in the Battle of Britain, many being killed or posted as ‘Missing in Action’.
To expedite their movements, courses were refined further, and many trainees were sent up in pairs to practice combat manoeuvres on their own. One British pilot, Sgt. Frederick Howarth in L1658 and Czech pilot Sgt. Karel Stibor, collided in one such activity resulting in the death of both airmen. The two sites were cleared of immediate debris but the aircraft remained buried until the 1970s and mid 80s, when major parts were found and removed. These two men join the many others in St. Matthew’s. Such was the demand for new pilots that at Sutton Bridge alone, 525 pilots were posted in from, or out to, front line squadron between March and October 1940; only one-quarter of them not having fought in either the Battle of France or the Battle of Britain; most (345) having seen action in just the Battle of Britain. *14
The attack on Britain’s airfields was by now subsiding, but that didn’t stop the occasional bomb from dropping on Sutton Bridge, nor its ‘Q’ decoy site at nearby Terrington some 4 miles north-east. The first attack came in the night of August 30th-31st, in which bombs were dropped harmlessly on the dummy airfield. It was Terrington again at the end of September that would get another rogue bomber dropping its payload. By now the locals were getting worried and annoyed, and requested the site be moved. The RAF’s reply was not favourable nor was it what they wanted to hear. With yet another attack at the end of October, it was becoming clear why the RAF wasn’t going to play ball, a few dead horses and damage to walls was a small price to pay for keeping the training camp clear and operational.
‘Handcraft hut’ now a private building.
During the whole of the war, the ‘Q’ site took no less than six German attacks, whilst the airfield at Sutton Bridge received only three, a comprehensive reason for the use of such areas at this crucial time.
From 6 OTU to 56 OTU: A New Chapter
By the end of the Battle of Britain, the various OTUs had shown their true capability, fuelling the front line squadrons that would protect the UK from German invasion and sweeping the enemy from the sky. But changes were now afoot, and in November 1940, 6 OTU was disbanded immediately being renumbered as 56 OTU; the change coming through as a result of the reshuffle of the training units – ’50’ being added as a prefix to all OTUs.
56 OTU continued to fly the Hurricane using the squadron code ‘FE’. In fact, little changed and everything carried on as usual with little immediate evidence of the new change. The new, recently appointed station commander, Group Captain Bruce Caswell, continued his reign over both the airfield and the daily goings on at the site.
The new unit would form the main squadron at Sutton Bridge for the next two years continuing to train pilots in the art of dog-fighting and air gunnery; the renumbered 56 OTU carrying on pretty much where 6 OTU had left off. New pilots arrived and were pushed through the various courses; the RAF still desperate to get new pilots into front line squadrons as soon as possible.
The challenge of getting pilots through the courses was still a great one, and with so many trainees coming and going, errors, accidents and fatalities remained a common occurrence.
A New Spirit: The RAF and Its American Volunteers
The end of 1940 and the success of the Battle of Britain gave renewed hope and boosted morale for both aircrew and civilians alike. Now, and even though the United States was still out of the war, the RAF found itself being bolstered by a small number of American airmen wanting to join the fight and stand by Britain’s side. Some of these joined as early as 1939 as volunteer reserves, going on to fly during the Battle of Britain. Whilst there are records of US airmen flying in the battle, most went on to join the famed ‘Eagle‘ Squadrons joining names like Don Gentile, Don Blakeslee and Johnny Godfrey, many of whom have become household names in Second World War terms, with historical stories to match.
As a way to retain US neutrality, the airmen made their way through training schools in Canada to the UK, arriving by ship as civilians. Many were sent to 3 Personnel Reception at Bournemouth and then onto 57 OTU or the new 56 OTU here at Sutton Bridge to complete their training before passing over to RAF units.
The First American Loss: Pilot Officer William Davis
One of these pilots arrived in March 1941, P.O. William Davis, a twenty-five year old trainee from St. Louis. He found himself sent to Sutton Bridge, preparing to take on the Hurricane. With twenty-five flying hours under his belt already, he made his first solo less than two weeks after his arrival, managing a successful flight but suffering a problematic landing. The next day, he departed the airfield again, this time to carryout a map reading exercise over the Lincolnshire Fens. Unfortunately, the weather closed in and with a featureless landscape to navigate by, he eventually ran out of fuel and opted for a landing in one of the many expanses of Fen fields.
Unfortunately, as he landed, the undercarriage dug into the soft mud, flipping the Hurricane (P5195) onto its back breaking Davis’s neck, killing him outright. Davis was the first American to die at Sutton Bridge, this tragic accident cutting his war very short. He remains a long way from home, buried not far from the airfield in the local church yard at Sutton Bridge. His full story can be read in Heroic Tales.
Pilot Officer W. Davis, killed March 1941.
The Eagles Gather
His was the first of a run of several accidents. Later in the summer of that year, Sgt Bidgood and Flt. Sgt. John Craig, who both veterans of the Battle of Britain, collided over the nearby village of Terrington St. John, killing both airmen. Being experienced airmen and valued pilots, their loss was a tragic one that cost the RAF dearly.
The Americans however, kept on coming. During 1941 alone they accounted for twenty-six accidents at Sutton Bridge. By the end of the year, 144 US airmen had passed through the airfield, 87 of whom went on to fly with the famed ‘Eagle Squadrons’ before they were officially transferred to the USAAF in 1942.
March 1940 saw the birth of 6 OTU at Sutton Bridge, a fast-paced training hub turning skilled pilots into front-line fighters. Operating Hurricanes, Battles, and Gladiators despite shortages and harsh Fen weather, the unit trained British and foreign recruits under tight schedules and high pressure. Success came at a cost, with accidents and fatalities a constant reminder of the dangers faced even before reaching combat, underscoring Sutton Bridge’s vital role in preparing airmen for the Second World War.
In Part 2, we saw how Sutton Bridge grew from a temporary summer camp into a fully operational RAF station, shaped by innovation, spectacle, and the relentless demands of training aircrew. The lessons learned here – from aerobatic displays and night-firing trials to early experiments with new aircraft – prepared both pilots and the airfield itself for the pressures of wartime service. As Europe edged closer to conflict, Sutton Bridge stood ready, its evolving infrastructure and experienced personnel poised to meet the coming challenges of the Second World War.
In the tense early months of the Second World War, Sutton Bridge briefly served a crucial administrative and training role. On 14th September 1939, the airfield was designated a Recruit Sub-Receiving Centre, and within a week – on 22nd September – it was formally redesignated No. 3 Recruit Training Pool (RTP). The purpose was straightforward: to process and provide initial instruction for newly enlisted airmen as they entered RAF service. However, this function was short-lived – in what was typical of the rapidly evolving war-time organisational changes, No. 3 RTP at Sutton Bridge was disbanded on 29th October 1939, and the training process was relocated elsewhere.
Immediately, orders came through from 12 Group Fighter Command ordering the formation of two new squadrons: 264 Sqn and 266 Sqn, both to be stationed at Sutton Bridge. For a brief moment it appeared that this basic grass airfield would become a front line fighter station, propelling it into the limelight of Fighter Command, operating both single and twin engined aircraft. In charge of the two new squadrons and the airfield as a whole, was the new station commander, one Sqn. Ldr. Philip R. Barwell.
Barwell had previously been stationed at RAF Digby, in Lincolnshire, with 46 Sqn. and had himself trained here at Sutton Bridge no less than a decade earlier. He was famed for heading off the first enemy air attack on a convoy in British waters near to Spurn Head. In the attack he shot down one enemy aircraft and shared in the destruction of another, action which led him to receive the DFC followed by a rapid promotion to Wing Commander.
Barwell would oversee the organising and training of both these new squadrons. 264 Squadron, who adopted the name “Madras Presidency Squadron” after a financial donation to the squadron from the then President of Madras, and was led by Sqn. Ldr. S. H. Hardy; 266 Squadron, on the other hand, was led by Sqn. Ldr. John W. A. Hunnard. To fulfil the squadron’s obligations, Sutton Bridge would see a huge influx of men, all being posted in from various Training Schools, who over the next few weeks, would train to fly in the two new units.
The influx of men was not matched by the influx of machines for them to fly however. With continued delays in the arrival of the aircraft, crews were temporarily posted to other airfields to train and gain the vital experience they needed. On the ground, lectures filled many days, whilst some airmen were given temporary leave and others used the Link trainer to gain what basic experience they could.
Desperate to get started, pressure was put on those above, and on November 8th, the order was given for pilots of 264 Sqn to collect three Magisters (N3867, N3857 and N3868) from RAF Hullavington. These were followed three days later, by a further three for 266 Sqn. *9
Defiants, Battles, and the Harsh Winter of 1939
With little in the way of equipment, or even direction from the Ministry, 264 Sqn would very soon learn that they were to receive the new Defiant, a fighter built by Boulton Paul, and one which caused a major split in the ranks of the High Command. Being the first Defiant unit, it would be dogged by many issues including both political wrangling and production problems.
The Defiant, a much despised aircraft by both Dowding and Parks – due to their dislike of the idea of a free turning turret on a two seat fighter – came up against incredible opposition within the government bodies, but after much pressure from those higher up, Dowding succumbed and reluctantly accepted the squadron for the defence of the UK.
The political infighting and excessive demands put on Boulton Paul, led to delay after delay of its arrival at front line stations. Indeed, only at the end of the year, after 264 Squadron had moved to Martlesham Heath, did they receive any aircraft at all. The Defiants would go on though, to perform far better initially than Dowding could have hoped for, but its success was marred by poor management leading to huge losses and a reputation that soon saw it labelled unfairly as an utter failure.
The Defiant and its crews performed admirably during the early months of the war, particularly over Dunkirk, where 264 became the first ‘Ace in a day’*10 squadron. The crew, Flt. Lt. Nicholas Cooke and Cpl. Albert Lippett of 264 Sqn, shot down five enemy aircraft whilst patrolling over Dunkirk achieving the much sought after status that many young pilots would crave.
Sadly, the successes didn’t continue though, the Germans soon realising the aircraft’s poor performance, and the limitations of the turreted four Browning machine guns, it quickly became prey to the hungry Luftwaffe airmen especially during the Battle of Britain where it often flew without a much needed escort.
The Defiant was designed as a bomber destroyer, not a fighter, the idea being to attack and destroy bombers by flying along side or underneath, then rotating its turret and guns accordingly. However, on many occasions they flew alone and ended up taking on the Me 109s which were far superior in what became almost suicidal missions.
The crews that flew the Defiants, spoke very highly of the aircraft, and although many would lose their lives, they would defend the aircraft saying it was not used as it was intended and subsequently, as a fish out of water, it didn’t perform as well as they knew it could. Dogged by political infighting, the Defiant never achieved full status, instead being forced into a role it was never designed to perform, and so, naturally, it met with devastating results.
264’s departure from Sutton Bridge on December 7th, coincided with the arrival of the main party of 254 Sqn from Stradishall, who were in the process of receiving Blenheim IFs. Like the Defiants though, the Blenheim Squadron was having considerable problems, not with the supply of aircraft but with serviceability, many requiring oxygen systems, radios, guns or even complete overhauls due to their expired flying hours.
Mishaps and poor weather then began to play their part causing further issues with flying. A serious accident in which one aircraft (K7132), piloted by Sgt. T.K. Rees, suffered extreme air frame stresses in a vertical dive, led to considerable damage. Rees however, using all his skill and know how, managed to land the aircraft at the airfield where it was found many of the flying controls were badly damaged.
Meanwhile 266 Squadron, the second front line unit formed at Sutton Bridge, fared slightly better, receiving their first three Fairey Battles (L5348, L5350 and L5374) in early December 1939. They were soon followed by three more which led to the whole of the month being used for formation flying and training in the new aircraft for all crews. As a training unit, the inevitable accident would soon happen. On December 9th, one of these aircraft was forced into a wheels up landing, in which luckily, the two crewmen, Flt. Lt. Coward and Plt. Off. James L. Wilkie, were unhurt but the Battle had been badly damaged during the belly landing on the airfield.
With further aircraft arriving during that December, Sutton Bridge became increasingly busier, and with fifteen aircraft by the end of the month, 266 became a well established squadron. The weather of course, played its part, cancelling flying activities on a regular basis, and so this, combined with continuous minor accidents, led to an increasing shortage of spares.
As a result, 266 would also soon be dogged by serviceability issues, having to take their Battles to RAF Upwood for servicing, causing severe issues for those crews trying to increase their hours in the air. Combine that with the poor weather, snow by now having fallen, and temperatures dropping to below freezing, the winter months did not look promising for anyone stationed here at Sutton Bridge.
From Battles to Spitfires: The Transformation of 266 Squadron
The initial idea of 266 Sqn being an all two-seater squadron soon changed though. On the 10th January1940, news of their immediate change to Spitfire MK.Is came through, and keen to get into the air in one, pilots took every chance they could to get airborne – even flying in poor weather. But the weather can be a formidable enemy, and before long, all aircraft were grounded, as heavy and thick snow lay on the frozen ground for almost a month. Sutton Bridge was essentially closed in.
Entrance to bomb store 2.
The gradual change in status from a ‘two-seat’ squadron to a ‘single seat’ one, would also mean a change in personnel, as a single seat fighter unit, the Battle’s gunners were now surplus to requirements and so were posted out to other units where gunners were in much needed demand.
Eventually, as it usually does, the weather broke and the early spring temperatures began to slowly rise. The melting snow and frozen ground led to waterlogged runways as a thaw set in. Being low lying, water took a long time to drain away, and the runways quickly became bogs. The hopes of getting airborne were dashed as quickly as they were raised. With little flying happening, and new aircraft arriving (by early February the squadron had received nineteen Spitfires) pilots were soon queuing up to get a flight.
One notable incident during this time, led to the demise of Spitfire N3120 piloted by Flt. Lt. Ian Gleed. When testing the aircraft at 18,000 ft, for some reason, it disintegrated throwing Gleed from the cockpit. After the aircraft wreckage crashed into the Fen soil, the various parts were collected and taken to the Woolwich Arsenal, presumably for analysis, eventually ending up at the Kent Battle of Britain Museum on the former RAF Hawkinge airfield. Gleed was relatively unhurt after his accident, and was eventually passed fit for flying going on to continue his career in the RAF before being killed in 1943 in North Africa.
An Airfield Without a Squadron: Sutton Bridge in Transition
Another change for the squadron would come in February 1940, when they received the order to prepare to move and join 264 Sqn, at RAF Martlesham Heath taking their Spitfires with them. 254 Sqn, for whom serviceability had also continued to be an issue, also received their departure orders leaving for Bircham Newton in mid January joining Coastal Command, meaning that all three initial units under Fighter Command had now left Sutton Bridge for pastures new.
However, what the RAF really needed, were new aircrew and the training stations to create those pilots, gunners and Navigators. To cope with the massed intake of new recruits that would hopefully come, a series of Recruiting Centres were set up all over the country. Sutton Bridge suddenly, and once again, changed its status becoming a training centre for new recruits in RAF discipline, preparing them for the rigours of day-to-day life in the Royal Air Force. But this initiative was also short lived as Sutton Bridge was soon to become a Flying Training airfield once more, training these new pilots in the art of flight techniques and gunnery.
The station flight, which had been continuously based at the airfield, had been the primary reason for Sutton Bridge. It remained active throughout all these recent changes, towing drogues for air-to-air gunnery practise, but with the poor weather they had had little to do. With no flying, the ill-prepared aircraft that had landed at their feet were soon worked on and missing components quickly fitted. With the departure of the three main resident squadrons, it meant that new visitors could be no more than ‘entertained’ until flying could once again start to take place.
With the airfield now devoid of any major unit other than small training units like the Henley Target Towing flight, it was an ideal opportunity to open a new training unit specifically for fighter pilots, and so 6 Operational Training Unit (OTU) was born.
In the opening months of the Second World War, Sutton Bridge swung between roles with remarkable speed. From a brief stint as a recruit training centre to hosting newly formed 264 and 266 Squadrons, the airfield grappled with scarce aircraft, harsh winter weather, and early operational mishaps. Defiants, Blenheims, and then Spitfires tested both pilots and crews, while accidents and maintenance challenges were constant. By early 1940, with the squadrons gone, Sutton Bridge pivoted once more, becoming a hub for new recruits and small training flights, laying the groundwork for its next vital role as 6 Operational Training Unit.
Part 1, gave us an insight into the reason for Sutton Bridge’s origin and how it developed into a more recognisable and efficient airfield.
The 1920s and 1930s, then saw Sutton Bridge develop further becoming a hub of daring displays, training activities, and aviation firsts. From thrilling aerobatics over the Fens to early bombing and gunnery trials, pilots and crews developed both skill and courage, often at deadly risk. As biplanes gave way to faster monoplanes and the Fleet Air Arm joined in, the airfield transformed from a seasonal training camp into a fully established RAF station, laying the foundations for its crucial role in the Second World War.
Flying Circuses and Fatal Risks: The 1920s at Sutton Bridge
The 1920s saw a range of squadrons use the site for short, week long stays, each flying in, completing practise days and then departing back to their home airfield. Many of the early users of the range and Sutton Bridge arrived in Leyland 3-ton trucks, a 1918 model with hard tyres. These advanced party trucks were packed with additional equipment: Bowsers, tail-trolleys, chocks and extra tool kits; all of which had to be unloaded before anyone could find themselves a bed for the night. The main party usually arrived shortly after, using the more comfortable train whilst the pilots took a leisurely flight bringing their aircraft in later on. *3
The number and range of aircraft that attended Sutton Bridge is far too many to list at this time, but records show the presence of some fifteen squadrons in one year alone, bringing a wide range of models and personnel. Such aircraft included: Hawker Woodcocks, Gloster Gamecocks, Bristol F2B Fighters, A.W. Siskins, Hawker Furys and Bristol Bulldogs to name but a few.
Interspersed with these flying activities, aircrew would put on displays for the locals who readily accepted them into their homes, pubs and dance halls. Dramatic flying completing loops and almost zero feet aerobatics amazed the gathered crowds, and the local swing-bridge became a ‘target’ to buzz and even fly underneath!*4 With all this daring activity, there was as a result, accidents both in the air and on the ground. Many of those lost were seasoned pilots from the First World War, and it would become a trend rather than a short lived phase in the airfield’s life.
The routine of bombing, air firing and displays would continue on until the weather began to close in, around about October. With that, the site would then shut with the tents and temporary accommodation taken away until the following spring.
From Experiment to Establishment: Sutton Bridge in the 1930s
The 1930s saw a global recession along with an increasing interest in Hitler’s activities in Germany. The British were beginning to think ahead, and Sutton Bridge quickly became a hive of activity, with wave after wave of dignitaries presenting themselves at the airfield to see the activities occurring at the site. Out on the ranges however, all was not going well. Biplanes of the 1930s launched bombs from carriers fitted beneath the fuselage, close to where the undercarriage was fixed, and on several occasions, the bombs caught the axle detonating in mid air. On more than one occasion, the aircraft was destroyed and the pilot killed by this very issue. Eventually, the Air Ministry called a halt to dive bombing, particularly at steep angles, but it had taken an airman’s death to trigger the move – at least until a better way of fixing the bombs could be found.
During these early years, the Fleet Air Arm (FAA) began to join the RAF in using Sutton Bridge, several Flights came and went enjoying the benefits of the nearby range. For the naval squadrons, Sutton Bridge offered an ideal shore base from where gunnery practice could be carried out over the Wash, away from the constraints of crowded airfields or carrier decks.
Among the earliest visitors was 801 Squadron, which detached to Sutton Bridge on a number of occasions – first recorded in July 1933, and again in May 1935 and January 1938. These short stays were typical of the Fleet Air Arm’s use of practice camps, allowing pilots and air gunners to sharpen their skills before re-joining their carriers. 802 Squadron followed a similar pattern, making use of Sutton Bridge in August 1934 and again in May 1935, its aircraft temporarily filling the skies over Lincolnshire before returning to front-line duties.*5*6
As the decade drew to a close, Fleet Air Arm activity at the airfield increased. In February 1939, 803 Squadron moved from Worthy Down to Sutton Bridge, settling in for a period of flying and training ashore. Not long afterwards, 800 Squadron, newly disembarked from HMS Ark Royal, also linked into this circuit of shore training, taking advantage of Sutton Bridge’s ranges as part of its spring 1939 programme.*7
Outside of the FAA’s activities, things at the airfield began to move forward. In 1933, prior to the winter closing in October, 23 Squadron took part in night firing trials using tracers being fired at drogues illuminated by searchlights on the ground. The first event witnessed by Group Captain Tedder, would eventually open a new chapter in the life of the airfield, allowing aircraft to fly from Sutton Bridge over the range to carry out night firing activities, something that continues on the range today.
Sutton Bridge officially became an airfield on March 1st, 1936, as a result of the reorganisation of the RAF commands. No longer a Summer Armament Training Camp, it received the status it needed – RAF Station Sutton Bridge – although it continued to remain under the control of the Air Armament School.
Pageantry and Public Spectacle
Sutton Bridge’s elevation to official RAF station status in that year brought little immediate operational change, but one development was significant: the construction of married quarters along Chalk Lane. These quarters still stand today but now as private housing. When built, they would accommodate married couples providing a comfortable alternative to those supplied to single men.
Perimeter track west side.
As a way of show-casing the RAF, many air pageants sprouted up around the country during this time, with military stations opening their doors to the general public. Sutton Bridge was no exception, with some 3,000 people attending its first on 23rd May 1936. A grand display of aerobatics and formation flying, was supported by open hangars and pilots keen to provide information and encouragement to those wanting to know more.
During these shows, pilots would fly along the adjacent River Nene, which being banked by high flood banks, could approach unseen by those waiting on the other side. As they neared the swing bridge they would rise up and over the bank in dramatic style surprising the waiting audience. A feat of daring that was repeated regularly up until a year later in the 1937 Empire Day at the airfield. This final event, was a dismal day, with very poor weather and low visibility, little flying took place, and whilst it would have been hoped to have continued on, it would unfortunately be the end for Sutton Bridge, as it was to never take part in public days again. With war now inevitable, preparations began to be made that would supersede any public engagements.
From Biplanes to Monoplanes: Trials at Sutton Bridge
The looming war accelerated change. Outdated biplanes, long being the backbone of the RAF, began to give way to sleek new monoplanes. Hurricanes, Spitfires and Blenheims were soon seen at Sutton Bridge, foreshadowing the modern era of aerial warfare, though training still relied heavily on older aircraft. The introduction of the Henley, Hawker’s own monoplane bomber designed to a specification for a light day-bomber that was capable of providing close air-support, was tried and tested with 350 initially ordered by the government. However, after a change in policy, this was reduced to 200 and even these being demoted to second line duties.
The promising aircraft, the younger brother of the Hurricane, never reached its potential, cut short before it had time to prove itself; many ended up as engine test beds or more likely, target tugs which caused many to have engine problems due to the low speeds it had to maintain with its high powered Merlin engine.
The second Henley prototype, K7554, fitted with a windmill-driven target winch (@BAE Systems.)*8
It was four of these Henleys that found themselves at Sutton Bridge where they were ‘downgraded’ and used as a Target Towing aircraft under 3 ATS between 1936 and 1939.
The Shadow of War: Sutton Bridge in 1939
1939 saw Europe heading catastrophically toward conflict, and this conflict was the reason for the reduced stay of 64 Sqn in August that year. On the 12th, they were ordered from their base at Church Fenton to Sutton Bridge for an armament training period, but owing to the worsening situation on the continent, this was cut short, and on the 24th, they were recalled. Within a week, like many other squadrons, they were ordered to mobilise.
Just before the outbreak of war, a sudden posting of the Training School from Sutton Bridge signalled what may have been its demise. But, the next day, one of the world’s most famous speeches was given, and Britain entered the war with Germany.
By the end of the 1930s, Sutton Bridge had grown from a temporary summer camp into a fully operational RAF station, shaped by innovation, spectacle, and the relentless demands of training aircrew. The lessons learned here – from aerobatic displays and night-firing trials to early experiments with new aircraft – prepared both pilots and the airfield itself for the pressures of wartime service. As Europe edged closer to conflict, Sutton Bridge stood ready, its evolving infrastructure and experienced personnel poised to meet the coming challenges of the Second World War.
