nostalgia

Trail 66 – RAF Chelveston – Part 9 – The End of an Era

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Part 8 saw Chelveston at the crossroads of history. From the heroism of B-17 crews braving ferocious Luftwaffe attacks to the tense vigilance of Strategic Air Command jets in the early Cold War, the station had witnessed courage, innovation, and loss. Yet as international tensions shifted and technology advanced, even its longest runways and fortified hangars could not guarantee a future.

By the late 1950s, Chelveston faced an uncertain fate. What would become of a place that had once been alive with the roar of engines and the courage of men? Its final chapter was about to be written – but the outcome was far from certain.

During the late 1950s and early 60s, the world’s political landscape was shifting constantly and rapidly. France’s president, Charles de Gaulle, saw his country as a strong, independent nuclear power, wanting full control over its own defence. That vision did not accommodate large numbers of foreign – particularly American – forces on French soil. As a result, 1959 saw the start of a reduction in military numbers with strict limits being placed on the number of American forces allowed in France. Any personnel or equipment beyond this ceiling were required to leave immediately. This decision triggered a massive redeployment of forces, with many units being reassigned to Germany or Belgium, and others returning to the United Kingdom where they were accommodated at the so-called ‘Red Richard‘ bases, of which Chelveston was one.*20

Over the next several years, France saw a steady reduction in American personnel and units, a process that would culminate in 1966 with President Charles de Gaulle’s announcement of France’s withdrawal from NATO’s integrated military command. The decision required the removal of all foreign forces from French soil by April 1967, bringing an end to more than a decade of a large-scale American presence.

To accommodate the early relocations from the continent, a number of Britain’s newly modernised airfields were selected – Chelveston among them. Alongside RAF Alconbury and RAF Bruntingthorpe, each station received elements of the 10th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing (TRW), the 42nd Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron, of the 10th TRW, arriving at Chelveston in August 1959. Operating the twin-engined Douglas RB-66C Destroyer – electronic reconnaissance aircraft, eighteen of these machines, together with their crews and ground personnel, quickly took up residence. Shortly after their arrival, the aircraft were modified with updated electronic counter-measures equipment, reflecting the increasingly technical nature of Cold War aerial reconnaissance.

Douglas RB-66B Destroyer (U.S. Air Force photo)

The squadron remained at Chelveston for almost three years. Then, in the summer of 1962, both the 42nd Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron and the 19th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron departed their respective Midlands stations for deployment to Toul-Rosières Air Base in eastern France. The move placed the wing’s reconnaissance assets closer to the Central European front line at a time when aerial reconnaissance was increasing. For Chelveston, however, it marked the effective end of its active flying role. With the Americans steadily reducing their UK footprint and Bruntingthorpe facing closure, the departure of the RB-66s signalled the beginning of the station’s final chapter.

Project Clearwater and the End of the Reflex Era

So, once again, Chelveston was left devoid of all main front line squadrons. Facing a reduction in demand for Cold War bases –  combined with both long expensive runways and a shift towards a more logistical, support and storage use – Chelveston’s runway was closed to all but infrequent, small aircraft – examples that could operate on shorter runways.

Before long, the airfield being used less and less, Chelveston closed to flying altogether, and it quickly reverted back to a reserve airfield status.

This shift in wider policy soon became formalised. On 26th July 1963, the United States Department of Defence announced ‘Project Clearwater’, the final phase in the reduction of American forces stationed on British soil.*21 Although Chelveston had already fallen largely silent, the base remained nominally under United States control while residual activities continued. That position ended on 19th June 1964, when Chelveston – together with RAF Fairford, RAF Greenham Common and RAF Sculthorpe – was formally closed and handed back to the Royal Air Force.

By 1st April 1965, Project Clearwater had effectively brought an end to Strategic Air Command’s Reflex bomber deployments in Britain, terminating large-scale rotational operations and leading to the inactivation of the 7th Air Division*22 Chelveston, retained by the RAF on a care-and-maintenance basis for a further period, would briefly assume a less glamorous role as a storage location for American equipment being withdrawn from the continent. The age of regular transatlantic bomber and reconnaissance operations from Northamptonshire had quietly drawn to a close.

From Runways to Renewables: The Final Transformation of Chelveston

With no flying units now operating from Chelveston, the runways and associated tracks began to deteriorate and break up. With the increasing demand for housing and the nearby new town of Milton Keynes expanding, hardcore was needed and Chelveston had a good supply just waiting to be quarried. The runways and perimeter tracks were all removed thus ending any chance of a reprieve for flying in the future. But it wasn’t to be the end of its military association just yet.

In 1977, Chelveston became home to a key part of the Royal Air Force’s Strike Command Integrated Communications System (STCICS). The site, equipped with a large array of antennas, formed an essential link in the RAF’s network, transmitting voice, data, and weather information to aircraft, and connecting military stations across the UK and beyond. For decades, it played a vital role in maintaining operational communications for Strike Command.

As technology and operational requirements evolved however, the Ministry of Defence upgraded the system, leading to the creation of the Defence High Frequency Communications Service (DHFCS). This new network integrated both air and naval communications into a single nationwide system, capable of maintaining secure links over long distances, and routing messages through a central control centre. By December 2003, with the network increasingly managed by civilian contractors,  Chelveston was vacated once more, thus marking the end of its role in the UK’s high-frequency military communications infrastructure.*23 *24

With their departure, the site became surplus to military requirements, and it was sold off in 2005, as a going concern. New businesses seeing it as a development opportunity, bought it up turning it into a diverse renewable energy park that is known today as Chelveston Renewable Energy Ltd.

A number of wind turbines have since been erected, all linked by  the remaining remnants of the perimeter track.  A solar farm has also been added, and the site has evolved into a major energy supplier utilising renewable energy sources.

Today, the former Chelveston airfield  continues in this state, and little evidence exists of its previous life; the runways, perimeter tracks and buildings all having been removed. Dotted about, within the confines of the private area, a small number of  temporary buildings are known to remain (as surveyed by Northamptonshire Archaeology in conjunction with West Northamptonshire Council) including one of the nuclear bomb stores, – the ‘igloo’. Because, of its excellent condition and rarity value, the structure has been put forward for long-term protection through the Scheduling process of West Northampton Council.  The store is considered to be ‘well-preserved and a relatively unaltered example of a distinctive 1950s USAF munitions storage area’ which ‘comprises characteristic storage bunkers or “Igloos” inspection buildings, and perimeter fencing.’ *25

Although largely privately owned, there is a footpath across the site running perpendicular to the post war runway. In addition, the Cold War accommodation blocks are still present adjacent to the site, and a small section is used by the Northamptonshire Fire and Rescue Service as a training centre, training fire-fighters.

On the ground little remains to be seen, and access to that is restricted. The concrete foundations used by the post war communications centre are visible, but otherwise, Chelveston, and its history, are merely records longing to be opened and read.

During its short wartime life, Chelveston witnessed many acts of great heroism. It bore heavy losses, saw significant developments in aerial warfare, and its crews endured sustained enemy attacks. Those who served here are now honoured by a memorial in the nearby village, a quiet reminder of the station’s wartime sacrifice. Yet the story of Chelveston did not end in 1945; for many years after the war, the airfield continued to play a major role in Europe’s front-line operations, a legacy that is not suitably acknowledged.

Now a thriving energy park its future has been sealed, The military have departed and private enterprise has taken over what little remains of its once glorious but reserved history.

The whole story of Chelveston can be read in Trail 66. Northants and Bedfordshire (Part 2)

Sources and Further Reading (RAF Chelveston)

*1 Chelveston renewable Energy Park website. Accessed 24 June 2025

*2 Chelveston Parish / Local history website. Accessed 24 June 2025

*3 Commonwealth War Graves Commission website. Accessed 5 July 2025

*4 The Airborne Assault Paradata website. Accessed 16 July 2025

*5 Air Force Historical research Agency Website. Accessed 18 August 2025

*6, *7 Vlahos, M. C., and Kehler, B., Leading the Way to Victory: A History of the 60th Troop Carrier Group 1940–1945. Woodbridge, CT: Knox Press, 2023.

*8 Wilhelm, D., ‘The flight of the bomber Phyllis’, Liberty, 5 December 1942, Imperial War Museums, document 50898.

*9 Missing Air Crew Report (MACR) 15501.

*10 Hamilton, J., The Writing 69th. Green Harbour Publications, 1999.

*11 Coffey, T. M., Decision Over Schweinfurt. Magnum Books, 1978.

*12 Freeman, R. A., Mighty Eighth War Diary. Jane’s Publishing Co., 1981.

*13 Bowman, M., The Bedford Triangle. Pen & Sword, 1989.

*14 Coffey, T. M., Decision Over Schweinfurt. Magnum Books, 1978.

*15 Congressional Medal of Honour website.  Accessed 5 August 2025

*16 Boyd, R. J., ‘Project Casey Jones 1945’, Penn State Hazleton Campus Library.

*17 United States Air Forces in Europe – Air Forces Africa – Third Air Force, website. Accessed 3 October 2025.

*18 West Northamptonshire Council, website. Accessed 27 September 2025.

*19 Rushden Research Group, website. Accessed 11 September 2025.

*20 West Northamptonshire Council, website. Accessed 27 September 2025.

*21 RAF Mildenhall, website. Accessed 17 September 2025.

*22 RAF Mildenhall, website. Accessed 17 September 2025.

*23 Everything Explained Today, website. Accessed 15 February 2026.

*24 Everything Explained Today, website. Accessed 15 February 2026.

*25 West Northamptonshire Council, Northamptonshire Historic Environment Record, website. Accessed 15 February 2026.

Additional references

National Museum of the United States Air Force Website accessed 2 March 2026

The Airborne Assault Paradata website. This provides a wealth of information about the AFEE and airborne operations. It is well worth a read.

Air mobility Command US Air Force, Website Accessed 12 October 2025

Chelveston-cum-Caldecott Parish Council website accessed 20 September 2025

Airfields of Britain Conservation Trust Website.

Rushden “Hearts & Soles” website accessed 20 September 2025

Trail 66 – RAF Chelveston – Part 8 – A new Chapter Begins

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Throughout Part 7 the 305th Bomb Group continued to demonstrate extraordinary courage, with crews surviving horrific damage to their B-17s and earning multiple Medals of Honour for their heroism. By the final months of the war in Europe, they had flown 337 combat missions, dropped over 22,000 tons of bombs, and contributed to both strategic bombing and propaganda efforts. After Germany’s defeat, the group returned to the United States, later reactivating briefly in 1947, 1951, and 1994, leaving a lasting legacy as the “Can-Do Wing.”

From Wartime Urgency to Cold War Necessity

The immediate post-war years then presented the Government with a formidable practical and financial problem. At the end of 1945 there were close to 700 surplus military airfields scattered across the United Kingdom, many of them constructed hurriedly for a wartime need that now suddenly became redundant. Pressure for their disposal came swiftly. Farmers demanded the return of requisitioned land, local authorities saw opportunities for civil airports or industrial development, and the Treasury was keen to reduce the heavy burden of maintenance costs. At the same time, the Air Ministry argued that a proportion should be retained against future uncertainty, either as reserves or for storage and technical purposes.

Across the country the fate of these sites varied. On some airfields, huts and temporary accommodation sites were converted into short-term housing for displaced families during the acute post-war shortage. Elsewhere, hardstands and runways were broken up to provide much-needed hardcore for reconstruction projects. Yet a minority of airfields were kept within the RAF’s control, Chelveston being one of them. Returned to the RAF after the war, it passed to Maintenance Command and was designated as a satellite of No. 25 Maintenance Unit, although this arrangement remained brief. Thereafter, the station entered a period of care and maintenance, a quiet, role that lasted until September 1952.

Despite a rapid post war airfield closure programme, by the early 1950s the pace of reductions had slowed as the international climate dramatically shifted. The emerging Cold War, marked by the formation of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) in 1949 and intensified by conflicts such as the Korean War, prompted a reassessment of Britain’s defensive position. Air power, particularly with the advent of jets and the nuclear dimension, regained its strategic significance. Selected airfields  across Britain saw their runways lengthened, surfaces strengthened, and dispersal areas improved to accommodate modern aircraft. The 1956 Suez Crisis further strengthened the need for an operational readiness and an overseas capability.

Domestic policy was also playing its part. The National Service Act 1948, which introduced peacetime conscription, kick-started a steady flow of manpower into the armed forces throughout the 1950s. Although costly, and partly due to massed post war demobilisation, National Service enabled the RAF to sustain a larger trained strength than would otherwise have been possible; this made it important to retain, and in some cases reactivate, selected stations for training, reserve or operational activities.

On a wider scale, Anglo-American defence cooperation deepened. Several East Anglian airfields – including RAF Lakenheath, RAF Woodbridge, and RAF Bentwaters – were all developed or upgraded for US Air Force use, while strategic bomber bases such as RAF Wittering were adapted to meet the RAF’s demands in the nuclear era. Disposal of wartime airfields therefore continued, but more selectively: stations once considered redundant suddenly acquired a renewed military value, serving as insurance against an increasingly uncertain international environment.

From Wartime Relic to Strategic Stronghold

In light of these changes, in 1952, a detachment of the 7503rd Air Support Wing (later redesignated the 7253rd ASW) arrived at Chelveston to assess and prepare the station for reactivation, laying the groundwork for construction teams from the 817th Engineer Aviation Battalion (EAB), who began major redevelopment work just two months later. This followed the February 1951 launch of a major US construction programme across twenty-six UK airfields, driven by rising Cold War tensions.

The deployment of American aircraft on British soil was a direct response to the growing Soviet threat seen in both Korea and Eastern Europe. Stationing bombers in the UK significantly reduced flight times to potential targets, thus enhancing both rapid strike capability and strengthening the credibility of Western deterrence. Wartime stations that had lain largely dormant since 1945 were once again recognised as strategically valuable, reflecting the pressures of the emerging jet age and the rapidly evolving political-military situation in Europe.

These physical upgrades coincided with a decisive reorganisation of American air power in the UK. On 20th March 1951, the Strategic Air Command (SAC) activated the 7th Air Division to assume direct control of its strategic bomber forces in Britain; a move that separated nuclear strike responsibilities from the broader command. Weeks later, on 1st May 1951, the Third Air Division was replaced by the Third Air Force, which under NATO, managed tactical air operations, logistics, and support for U.S. units stationed in the UK.

Expanded, modernised, and re-equipped, these airfields were adapted to accommodate the new generation of SAC jet bombers – larger, faster, and more capable than any that had previously operated from British soil. Together, the redevelopment of Britain’s wartime airfields and the restructuring of command reflected the growing permanence of the United States’ commitment to Western Europe’s defence – a position that would endure throughout the Cold War.

This extensive refurbishment work would include new runways, updated or replacement accommodation blocks, secure nuclear-capable bomb stores (or ‘igloos’), larger fuel stores, and a range of technical buildings – and all rapidly constructed.

Chelveston, already being a large site with a long runway, was earmarked for such development. However, its wartime runway had deteriorated and was too short for the new jets. A new, longer, and stronger runway – 12,000 ft in length, among the longest in the UK – was therefore constructed, a task undertaken by the 817th Engineer Aviation Battalion.*17

From Stratojets to Silence

After nearly four years of development that saw the construction of not only the new runway, but additional hardstands, servicing platforms and a technically superior watch office (Type 5589/58 Tower with a visual control room mounted on top of a skeletal frame)*18, the site was transformed. It was then that the 3914th Air Base Squadron (ABS) of the 7th Air Division, SAC, took up residence.

As operators of the airfield, the 3914th ABS would complete any further modifications needed allowing for, in May 1956, the first jet bomber’s arrival. Boeing B-47E-65-LM Stratojet, 53-1881 was flown in by the base Commander Colonel Maynard E. White. On arrival, he was greeted by his deputy commander along with local civic leaders and American families who were now living on the new base. This moment marked the beginning of a new era in Chelveston’s history.*19

Believed to be the first B-47 Stratojet 53-1881 landing at Chelveston. (Public domain via Chelveston-cum-Caldecott Parish Council).

For a the next three years or so, Chelveston would house a small number of B-47s, all nuclear capable. But continual economic changes in the US defence network, meant that many were now placed on ninety day rotations instead of permanent postings.

The airfield became part of a chain of bases housing large bombers of the Strategic Air Command as part of a ‘Reflex Alert’ force. Kept armed and ready, they remained manned on a permanent 15 minute alert basis ready to respond to any Soviet threat that may have come.

With these rotas changing approximately every three months, families were moved about from base to base, a process that carried on for almost eighteen months until mid 1959.

A further change in the global political and strategic field in the last few months of this period, saw a change in aircraft too. The bomber era was now drawing to a close, and at Chelveston, this led to the arrival of the 301st Reconnaissance Wing (RW) equipped with RB-47s – a reconnaissance version of the B-47.

By now, intermediate-range ballistic missiles (IRBM) were being increasingly used more, and several UK bases now had them deployed as an alternative to the heavy bombers.  With ranges of up to 5,500km, they were the catalyst for an arms race, one that would see newer and more powerful weapons propel the world toward the edge of destruction.

As the story of Chelveston draws to a close IRBMs take centre stage, reshaping the balance of power and casting a long shadow over airfield. As these new weapons promise unprecedented reach and destructive potential, the once-bustling bomber base faces an uncertain future. What would become of Chelveston in this rapidly changing landscape – an abandoned relic, secret stronghold, or something else entirely? The final chapter will reveal a story few could have predicted.

The whole story of Chelveston can be read in Trail 66. Northants and Bedfordshire (Part 2)

Trail 66 – RAF Chelveston – Part 7 – 2 Medals of Honour

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In Part 6, the 305th Bomb Group faced some of the most intense and costly operations of the war, including record-setting large formations and the brutal Schweinfurt raids, which inflicted heavy losses on the group. Crews endured extreme physical and mental strain, yet displayed remarkable heroism, earning multiple medals and citations while innovating new tactics and night operations. By late 1943 and early 1944, the group began to benefit from improved technology, navigation systems, and experience, setting the stage for record-breaking missions that would push both men and machines to their limits.

The formation was to cross to the continent where it would  split, each branch finding their predetermined targets, bomb and then reform for the long journey home. Although the weather was poor, fighter escorts did get airborne and they managed to stave off many of the attacks aimed at the bomber stream. For one 305th aircraft though, it would be a major struggle and an heroic one.

In B-17 42-38109 – ‘Cabin in the Sky’ – was pilot 1st Lt. William Robert Lawley Jr, flying only his tenth mission since joining the 364th BS, less than a year previously.

First Lieutenant William R. Lawley, Jr., is congratulated by Lieutenant General Carl Spaatz on the award of the Medal of Honour, 8th August 1944. (IWM UPL 55737)

The aircraft, a B-17G-30-DL (WF-P) was departing the target area with its bomb load intact due to a frozen mechanism, when it suffered a full frontal attack by enemy fighters. Suddenly, a canon shell ripped into the cockpit  killing the co-pilot, Paul Murphy, and striking Lawley in the face severely wounding him.

The attack by around twenty enemy fighters, also wounded every other crewman, in addition to setting an engine on fire. The attack caused the B-17 to enter a dive which could well have been uncontrollable had Lawley not fought back the pain and forced the co-pilot’s hands off the controls with one hand, whilst fighting the aircraft with the other. With a hole in the blood soaked windscreen, cold air forced its way in, adding to the cockpit’s terrible conditions and to the extreme pain Lawley was already feeling.

In fear of an explosion, resulting in total destruction of the aircraft and its crew, Lawley gave the order to bale out, but no one did. Some were simply too injured to do so, and those that were able to, did not want to leave their buddies behind to what must have seemed to be an inevitable fate.

Even whilst enduring further attacks, the engine fire was somehow extinguished, only to be replaced by another in a different engine. Then, a glimmer of hope came over the intercom, the bombardier had managed to free the bombs, thus lightening the load. This allowed the badly injured Lawley to perform incredible evasive action.

But by now, Lawley was exhausted, and was suffering from huge blood loss. Acutely aware of the situation, Mason, the bombardier, took over until Lawley was able to regain his strength and take back the B-17’s controls. With two engines out, a new threat appeared – lack of fuel. Another engine suddenly stopped running, leaving just one to keep the heavy bomber aloft. Somehow, the aircraft managed to not only reach England, but pass over its coastline. Feeling somewhat relieved, but acutely aware of the ever present danger, the crew scoured the horizon for a safe place to land. Redhill suddenly came into view, and just in time, as the B-17 was now losing height, and fire was spreading across the wings.

In great pain, Lawley managed to bring the aircraft down to Earth, performing an amazingly controlled crash landing. Nine of the ten onboard survived to return to duty, Paul Murphy being the only casualty. For his determination to get home, Lawley was awarded the Medal of Honour, the US’s highest award for bravery.

This dramatic event was mirrored by a B-17 of the 351st, then based at  RAF Polebrook. Sadly though, this one ended in the loss of the three crewmen left on board, after the aircraft crashed in a field. For his action, Sgt. Archibald Mathies also received the Medal of Honour.

B-17 42-38109 ‘Cabin in the Sky‘, after crash landing at RAF Redhill. (IWM UPL 55733)

This would not be a solitary awarding of the prestigious Medal of Honour, for it would be repeated just two months later, highlighting the bravery shown by many crewmen during those dark days of World War II.

On April 11th 1944, the Germans yet again made a ferocious attack from the front, a tactic they had devised early on in the American’s war in Europe.

In this instance, 1st Lt. Edward S. Michael was piloting B-17G  ‘Bertie Lee’ 42-37931, as part of the 364th BS on operations to bomb various  targets in Germany, including the Focke-Wulf plant at Sorau. Other targets for the 341 B-17s of the 1st BD, included Cottbus, Dobberphel, Stettin and Trechel.

The aircraft, a Douglas-Long Beach B-17G-20-DL Fortress (WF*D), was flying in formation toward Stettin when it became the focus of a determined enemy attack. To the crew, German fighters appeared to single them out, pressing home repeated assaults, despite escorting fighters and heavy defensive fire from the bomber.

The ferocious attack shattered the cockpit, both pilot and co-pilot (2nd Lt. Franklin Westberg) were wounded, instruments failed, oil covered the windscreen and the aircraft fell into a 3,000 foot spin from which survival seemed over. With skill and strength however, 1st Lt. Michael managed to pull the aircraft out of the dive, only to discover that the bomb bay, still full of incendiaries, was on fire – the result of yet another attack. With damage to the release equipment, the crew were unable to jettison  the bombs – the situation was getting worse.
The only way they could survive now was to bale out, and so Michael gave the order. On doing so, he was greeted by the horrendous sight of the top turret gunner, Jewel Philips, holding his eye in his hand and blood gushing from a severe head wound.

Giving initial aid to the gunner, Michael, himself injured, helped him to the door and out of the aircraft, He was one of seven who made it away.

With the co-pilot and injured bombardier, Lt. Leiber,  still on board, Michael decided he was going to try a crash landing.  Working hard to save the ship for as long as they could, the bombardier managed to finally free the burning incendiaries, and by performing dramatic evasive manoeuvres, Michael managed to  shake off pursuing enemy aircraft; eventually reaching the relative safety of cloud cover.

Now being targeted by flak, he decided to get the aircraft down as low as he could, and flying at almost treetop level, he headed towards England. The aircraft continued to respond well considering the extensive damage it had received, and so they flew on for as long and as far as they could. Miraculously, they reached the English coast, but Michael was exhausted from both his continued efforts and a severe thigh wound, The bombardier took over, circling the aircraft in a holding pattern until Michael had the strength to bring the stricken aircraft down. With no hydraulics, the ball turret jammed down, the undercarriage locked up and the bomb bay doors locked open, it was not going to be an easy ride and the odds of survival were stacked heavily against them.

As if the gods were on their side though, Michael retook control and brought ‘Bertie Lee’ down, its metalwork crunching and groaning as it careered along the grass at RAF Waltham near to Grimsby in Lincolnshire.

For his incredible actions and determination to get home, 1st Lt. Michael received the unit’s second, highest level award, the Medal of Honour.

Extensively damaged, ‘Bertie Lee’ after crash landing at RAF Waltham (IWM UPL 40113).

1st. Lt. Michael’s citation*15 read:

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.

Heroic actions like this, were widely mirrored across the beaches, seas and skies of Normandy that June, when vast numbers of ground, naval and air force personnel combined to carryout the greatest invasion ever known. With operations beginning in the early hours of June 6th 1944, Chelveston’s aircraft would again be involved, dropping leaflets to the French people warning them of the impending allied invasion. It would be a day that would go down in history.

Many of those involved in D-day looked forward to the day they would return home, but returning home was never a guarantee of safety. In December whilst on a mission to bomb the railway marshalling yards at Kassel in Germany, B-17 43-38973 received extensive damage with one engine put out of action. As the aircraft made its way home, it began to lose height and to make matters worse, England was shrouded in fog cutting visibility to near zero.

In an attempt to find a landmark, the pilot took the aircraft lower and lower, a risk that ended in tragedy when it struck a Gee mast at Borough Hill in Northamptonshire. All nine on board were killed in the collision.

337 Missions to Victory: The 305th’s Final Campaigns

The winter of 1944–45 descended with a familiar severity. Snow and ice gripped the airfields, while dense fog rolled across much of Europe, grounding aircraft and testing the endurance of even the most seasoned crews. Yet amid the bitter cold came decisive movement on the ground. Following the Allied breakthrough in the Ardennes, advancing forces pressed steadily into Germany itself. The war’s end was now clearly in sight, but its closing chapter would be anything but quiet. The months that followed brought an intense tempo of operations, as bomber formations crossed the Rhine with increasing confidence. With the Luftwaffe offering only sporadic and weakening resistance, B-17s and B-24s were able to penetrate deep into German territory with far less opposition than in previous years. Mission counts climbed rapidly. Many groups reached the formidable milestone of one hundred operations, and several of the original contingents went well beyond it, their longevity a testament to both endurance and experience.

Gradually, as allied forces made their way across Europe,  the heavy bombers of the allied forces pounded German cities. By March, the 305th had completed its 300th operation, having endured a long and demanding campaign since being amongst one of the first groups to deploy to the UK. In celebration, they were once again given the lead position in an attack on Böhlen-Rötha, Leipzig. Thirty-six aircraft set off that day to find near perfect weather over the target and so bombing was considered highly accurate despite heavy and accurate flak. Of the thirty-six, aircraft despatched, two B-17s were lost from the 305th, one of which carried the command crew – led by Lt. Col. Howell G. Crank in 44-8141. The aircraft was hit by flak and one of its engines knocked out. It then turned over and dived into the ground killing ten of those on board with one taken as a prisoner of war.

A month later on April 25th, 1945, shortly before the war’s end, the 305th would make their final bombing flight bringing Chelveston’s war in Europe to an end. The 305th had achieved an eye-watering 337 combat missions (480 including other types), dropping over 22,000 tons of bombs and over 70 tons of propaganda leaflets. During their time in Britain they had lost in the region of 154 aircraft, received two Distinguished Unit Citations and two airmen had both been awarded a Medal of Honour. In just three short months, on July 25th, they would leave England, heading for a new base at  St. Trond, Belgium (Army Airfield A-92). Their final departure leaving no operational front line units at Chelveston and little prospect of any arriving in the future.

After the defeat of Japan and the formal declaration of world peace in September 1945, the group was posted to Germany where the four squadrons were dispersed to various airfields, prior to their deactivation in the following December. The reason for the move was – and included the 306th from Thurleigh – to photograph two million square miles of land, ranging from Iceland in the north, through Europe to the Soviet frontier in the east, and on to north and west Africa in the south. By splitting the groups, it meant that flying time was reduced and coverage increased.*16

Following that, the 305th Bombardment Group returned to the United States. Crews were demobilised and dispersed, and the aircraft that had endured the rigours of combat over Europe were largely scrapped. The group would then briefly re-emerge in 1947 and again in 1951, each time for only a short period. After another short reprieve in 1994, it was reborn as the 305th Air Mobility Wing, a title under which it continues to operate today. The wartime service of the 305th at RAF Chelveston remains a key part of this lineage; the group’s achievements with the Eighth Air Force between 1942 and 1945 established the reputation of what became known as the “Can-Do Wing.” Chelveston is still recorded in U.S. Air Force historical archives as one of the stations from which the unit first earned its combat distinction, and with it, the legacy of the 305th  continues on.

As peace settled over Europe, Britain faced a daunting challenge: what to do with nearly 700 surplus wartime airfields, many hastily built and suddenly redundant. While some were dismantled or repurposed for civilian use, others – including Chelveston – were quietly retained, waiting for a world that was rapidly becoming uncertain once more. By the early 1950s, the rise of the Cold War, nuclear weapons, and jet bombers would transform these dormant relics into strategic strongholds, setting the stage for a dramatic new chapter in both British and American air power.

The whole story of Chelveston can be read in Trail 66. Northants and Bedfordshire (Part 2)

Trail 66 – RAF Chelveston – Part 6 – Records, Heroism and Morale

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In Part 5, the 305th endured some of the harshest early missions of 1943, suffering heavy losses over the U-boat pens and German targets while crews faced flak, fighters, and extreme winter conditions. Individual acts of courage and ingenuity, from surviving ditchings to improving bomber defences, highlighted both the bravery and inexperience of the fledgling unit. By April, Chelveston was officially transferred to full American control, and the 305th began taking the lead in major operations, earning their first Distinguished Unit Citation for precision bombing and determined action under fire.

April–May 1943: Record Flights, Heroism, and Morale Boosts

Being so new to the war, and with only the four B-17 groups still forming the bulk of the air force, operational records were regularly set and broken. The month of April saw another such record set, with the largest formation of US aircraft taking part. The flight, consisting of 115 B-17s from the four Groups, flew in a new configuration. The 305th formed the rear box, in a new arrangement that only permitted 3,000 ft separation between the low and high boxes.

The four groups from Thurleigh, Bassingbourn, Molesworth and Chelveston had led the way for the 8th Air Force, and by April  they were all becoming very tired and fatigued, and in desperate need of replacements. Although short in coming, replacements and new squadrons were eventually to arrive, helping to bolster both the strength and size of the still small but determined Air Force.

This newly reinforced air force was employed for the first time on 13th May 1943, and again on the 14th and 15th. On this last mission, the 305th were again on the receiving end of the Luftwaffe’s fury, as they hit hard head-on to the formation. In one of these B-17s, every member of the crew, except the tail and right-waist gunner, suffered severe injuries. Such was the crew’s  determination in getting back to Chelveston though, that two DSCs, eight Silver Stars and seven Purple Hearts were awarded to them that day. Those on-board ‘Old Bill’ being the most decorated crew of the 305th by the war’s end.

B-17 42-29673 ‘Old Bill’ 422nd BS, damaged on Wangerooge 15th May 1943.  Featured ground crew: Cpl Willis Todd (inside) and Cpl Zimmerman (outside), (IWM UPL 30085).

The morale of airmen, who faced death on an almost daily basis, was always a problem. To keep spirits up, various visits were arranged, some of which included top entertainers from ‘back home,’ who toured the various airfields and bases in Britain. On July 5th 1943, Frances Langford, Bob Hope and Tony Romano all arrived at Chelveston. Posing for photo shoots, meeting the crews and performing for the personnel were just one way of keeping spirits high.

“Frances Langford, Bob Hope and Tony Romano pose with the crew of the Boeing B-17 ‘Lallah VIII‘ (A/C 242) 5th July 1943. L to R: (P) Lt. Sam Johnstone, (CP) Lt. Elsworth Kenyon, (N) Lt. Martin Licursi, (B/T) Sgt. Arthur Englehardt, Frances Langford, Tony Romano, Bob Hope, (E) Sgt. Donald Baer, (WG) Sgt Richard Lewis, (TG) Sgt. Homer Bagby.(IWM UPL 35399).

August 1943: Schweinfurt, Night Raids, and the Toll of War

But amid these rare glimpses of happiness and momentary reprieves from fear, the war would endure, and the ever-present face of death would soon turn toward them once more.

Whilst Berlin became a name to dread, one other target drove an even sharper stake into the hearts of US airmen, that of Schweinfurt.

Schweinfurt, was a major centre for ball-bearing production. Located north-west of Nuremberg, it was one of Germany’s most prolific suppliers of this vital component. Although it did not produce all of the ball-bearings required by the German war economy, allied strategists believed that by destroying the Schweinfurt plants, they would severely disrupt supplies. By doing so, they would undermine Germany’s ability to sustain the war and bring it to a rapid conclusion.

The first attack, on 1st August 1943, saw the 1st Bombardment Wing (BW) send out 230 bombers in two waves; one of 116 aircraft and the second 114. Of these, thirty-six were lost in the battle; the 382nd and the lead Group the 91st BG, taking the brunt of the attack. The 305th from Chelveston lost ‘only’ two, but a further fourteen were classed as damaged but fortunately  repairable. The initial figures for the overall losses would soon grow though as the full extent of the damage became apparent. The final count neared sixty-three aircraft that were deemed  irreparable and lost. The total loss of aircraft from the operation, rose to in excess of 90, an unsustainable loss for any raid and one that brought home the severity of what the American airmen were facing.

Despite these losses, the raid was considered a success. In Schweinfurt itself, as the last B-17 left the target, a cloud of smoke and fire could be seen, its ferocity engulfing the town. What had been a two hundred year old conurbation of peace and serenity burned ferociously after receiving in excess of 400 tons of bombs – a mix of high explosives, incendiaries and general purpose types. The tranquil, but productive coastal town was in ruins – but the cost in American airman had been high. *11,*12

That same day, the 4th BW sent another 146 of their heavy bombers to Regensburg. Like the Schweinfurt mission, it suffered heavy casualties, with the loss of twenty-four aircraft. All-in-all, August 1st had been a terrible day for the Americans, and despite delivering a devastating blow, the war was clearly far from over.

During September and into October 1943, the 422nd Bomb Squadron of the 305th Bomb Group was withdrawn from daylight flights and retrained for night bombing operations, becoming the first US Army Air Force unit to undertake such activities. During this period, the squadron flew eight night sorties, dropping approximately sixty-eight tons of bombs, along with the unit’s first ‘Nickel’ mission on the night of 7th/8th  October 1943.

‘Nickel’ operations were carried out in cooperation with the RAF, and involved the dropping of propaganda leaflets over occupied Europe. In total, the squadron dispersed around seventy-three tons of leaflets, many of these being thrown out by hand, a slow and exhausting process. To speed things up, crews soon began to push entire boxes from the aircraft in the hope they would burst open in mid-air. A relatively unsuccessful method, it was eventually replaced by an ingenious purpose-built ‘leaflet bomb’. This aerial device was designed to open at a set altitude – often around 1,500 feet – scattering more than 80,000 leaflets in a single drop.

During these operations the squadron worked alongside Radio Counter Measure units as well as the ‘Carpetbaggers’ who were based at RAF Harrington. A common feature of these clandestine organisations was their use of black-painted, often war-weary B-24 Liberators, each one especially adapted for night operations and special duties.*13

Return to Schweinfurt: Catastrophe in the Autumn Skies

The disaster of Schweinfurt would never be far away though. In October, the city would raise its head once more, and once again losses for the Eighth would be high.

The morning of the 14th was cold and foggy, and many hoped that the day’s mission would be cancelled. Unfortunately, no such call came, and as crews sat in their briefing rooms, a hush fell as the curtain was drawn all the way back to reveal Schweinfurt. Gasps and groans filled the various briefing rooms as the details of the operation were read out.

At take off, the 305th were late, by about six minutes, meaning  that they had to catch up with the formation who were gradually pulling away from them. As a result, they were out of their place as they left the English coast, and desperate to catchup for the protection that the formation gave. After flying around trying to locate their place, the lead pilot Major Charles Normand, decided to slot in to the 1st Combat Wing’s low position, replacing the also late 381st.

Shortly after 13:00 hrs, the fighter escort withdrew, leaving the bombers to fend for themselves and allowing the waiting Luftwaffe to make their move. Single and twin-engined fighters now attacked the formation from every direction. Stukas, dropped timed bombs from above, and from around the sides rockets, canons and machine guns were emptied into the formation. The 305th in the vulnerable low position, took the initial brunt. Gunners were frantic in their attempts to defend themselves, using up ammunition at an incredible rate.

As the formation approached Duren, a number of B-17s began to smoke and fall back. Single-engined fighters attacked head on, diving away at the last minute whilst twin-engined aircraft fired rockets from the rear. One of the 305th’s B-17s was hit by one of these rockets, its wing folding and the fuselage opening up revealing badly injured crewmen inside. With no parachutes they simply fell from the sky. The Pilot fought to keep what little of the B-17 was left together, a fruitless task that ended in an dramatic and final fireball.

Further attacks continued to focus on those aircraft of the 305th, the 92nd and Kimbolton’s 379th. Aircraft after aircraft began smoking, slowly falling out of formation with cut engines or damaged control surfaces. No longer able to keep up, they became sitting ducks.

Over the target, Luftwaffe fighters were joined by flak. A barrage of accurate and intense 88mm bursts welcomed the bombers whose numbers were by now depleted.

Still in the low squadron position, the 305th’s Major Normand now led only three aircraft, twelve of the original fifteen sent out had gone –  shot down by enemy fighters. Determined to do their job, they declined a move to a safer position and made their own bomb run into the target.

The mayhem wreaked havoc on the formation. By the time they reached the target the 305th were further out of position, and the lead bombardier requested a second try. Knowing how dangerous that would be and how it would put them in a lonely situation, Normand refused and told Lt. Pellegrini to ‘do his best’. As they left the city, another B-17 from Chelveston went down, and after 100 minutes of continuous attack, the 305th were down to just two aircraft.

On return to England, many aircraft became lost in thick cloud and were abandoned, left to fall out of the sky as crews parachuted out. Those that did find land tried to locate any airfield they could and get down whilst they still had fuel in their tanks. It had been a costly operation. 600 airmen were lost that day, 130 of them from Chelveston. The Mighty Eighth had taken another beating and it would almost end their aerial warfare campaign. The only saving grace being that one of the crews who went down, had manged to get to Switzerland where they were interned.*14

The losses suffered by the 305th that day were the highest of all groups who took part. It had been a devastating blow leaving Chelveston depleted of many young airmen who were by now experienced and battle hardened veterans – many still in their twenties. As a consolation for the group, when allied troops overran the city in April 1945, the captured Nazi flag that proudly flew for so long over the city, was handed to the 305th as a souvenir.

As for Schweinfurt, 500 tons of bombs had dealt another devastating blow to the historic town. Flak batteries had decimated the American formation, and fighters had given their all, but still the American’s determination got them through. Schweinfurt would go down in history. It would forever be remembered on American bases as the battle that took so many lives and the one that nearly killed off the Eighth Air Force.

The terrible losses that day would never be repeated by the Chelveston crews. As they approached the year’s end, they hoped for better and they got it. Unbeknown to them at the time, December 20th 1943, would be the start of a record fifty-six missions without loss for the 365th BS of the Chelveston group. – a run that took them almost to D-Day, 6th June 1944.

Against All Odds: Two Medals of Honour in the Winter of 1944

The early months of 1944, saw the first use of ‘Gee’ by American Pathfinders. A pioneering system that used radio navigation to significantly improve bombing accuracy by timing the gap between two radio signals from ground stations. Hardwick’s 329th, who were part of the 93rd BG, had been trialling the new system since 1942, and it was finally deemed ready for operations. In these early stages, missions focussed on ‘No ball’ targets – V1 launch sites – where Gee could be tested to the limit. Such was the desire to perfect the system that almost half of the 29 missions carried out in January and February, used it.

January would also see another major award for the Chelveston Group. On the 11th following a raid on the aircraft factory at Halberstadt, the 1st Bomb Division, (formerly 1st Bomb Wing), were awarded the Distinguished Unit Citation; for the 305th, it was their second of two such awards.

A month later, on 20th February 1944, a combined force of over one thousand American aircraft of the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Bomb Divisions (BD) took part in operations. The 305th, as part of the 1st BD, were ordered to hit targets at Leipzig, Heiterblick, Abtnaundorf, Bernburg, Oschersleben. Failing that, they were to hit any target that presented itself as an opportunity.

The sky over Europe had become a crucible, where bravery, skill, and sheer willpower were tested to their absolute limits. For the crews of the 305th, every mission brought them face-to-face with death, yet time and again they defied the odds, fighting through blazing cockpits, flaming engines, and relentless enemy attacks. As they pushed ever deeper into the heart of Nazi territory, every flight carried the weight of a nation – and the question hung in the air: who would make it home, and who would not?

The whole story of Chelveston can be read in Trail 66. Northants and Bedfordshire (Part 2)

Trail 66 – RAF Chelveston – Part 3 – Early Operations

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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.

The whole story of Chelveston can be read in Trail 66. Northants and Bedfordshire (Part 2)

RAF Sutton Bridge Part 6 – The End of an Era.

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Part 5 of this trail, we saw how Sutton Bridge grew into a bustling hub of Allied air training, hosting a mix of British, European, Commonwealth, and American pilots. How the airfield remained under constant threat from Luftwaffe raids, while crowded skies and inexperienced trainees made accidents a grim reality. In 1942, the focus shifted from front-line pilot training to advanced gunnery instruction with the arrival of the Central Gunnery School. Fighter and bomber crews honed their skills in Spitfires, Wellingtons, and Hampdens, while innovative experiments, including rocket-firing Hurricanes, highlighted Sutton Bridge’s role at the cutting edge of aerial warfare. Despite progress, the dangers were ever-present, with both trainees and experienced instructors paying the ultimate price.

In the final part, we witness the slow decline and eventual but inevitable closure of the airfield. How a once vibrant but small airfield became simply a part of history.

Arrival of WAAFs and Local Folklore

During May 1942, Sutton Bridge found itself with in excess of 180 WAAFs arriving, mainly to operate training turrets and to work in the photographic room developing cine reels. The WAAFs were billeted not on the airfield but in small Nissen huts located in various parts of the village. It was one of these WAAFs that added fuel to the story of a pilot flying under the bridge, by claiming she saw it happen, again whilst she was there. No other evidence is available and so, like the first account, it will unfortunately remain just an uncorroborated story passed from generation to generation.

Enemy Attacks and a Safe Haven.

The war was never far away, and once again was brought all that little bit closer on 24th July 1942, when a Dornier 217 dropped its payload on the airfield in the early hours of the morning whilst most were asleep. Several buildings were damaged including hangars, the cinema and the armoury which exploded when all the ammunition inside was hit. Several personnel were also injured mainly from flying debris, and several aircraft were also damaged. The attack certainly brought an early morning wake up call and the war very much closer to home.

Being so close to the Wash, Sutton Bridge was often a safe haven for damaged aircraft either returning from Germany or suffering mechanical difficulties whilst forming up over the Wash. One such incident involved B-17F #41-24460 “RD-A” of the 423BS, 306BG at Thurleigh. The aircraft had been part of ninety B-17s and B-24s sent to Lorient on October 21st 1942. Due to poor visibility, the operation was scrubbed and bombers were ordered to dispose of their bombs in the Wash – a common practice for damaged aircraft or scrubbed missions. During the process, the life-raft latch broke loose allowing the raft to escape and wrap itself around the elevator.

B-17 #41-24460 ‘RD-A’ of the 306th BG that made an emergency landing at RAF Sutton Bridge. (IWM FRE 4418)

After landing on the short space of Sutton Bridge, the problem was soon sorted allowing the B-17 to take off and return for further repairs at its base at Thurleigh. Crowds gathered to see the spectacle as the aircraft thundered along the grassed runway before rising into the air.

Earlier Emergency Landings

It was not the first bomber though, to use Sutton Bridge as safe haven. Prior to this, a Halifax (W1102) from 35 Sqn, also made an emergency landing after it suffered damage on the night of October 14th 1942. The bomber, taking part in operations over Kiel, was hit by flak rendering its starboard outer engine unserviceable and the fuel tank leaking. Despite its difficulties, the crew managed to reach Sutton Bridge with little fuel left to get them home to Gravely. The crew would experience something similar a matter of days later when they had to land another damaged Halifax, this time at RAF Martlesham Heath.

USAAF Arrivals and High-Profile Visits

Sutton Bridge had supported many US airmen in the lead up to their war, training pilots of the Eagle Squadrons. Following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour and America’s entry into the war, USAAF pilots began to arrive here for gunnery training bringing their own unique aircraft with them. Some of these included P-38 ‘Lightnings’, an aircraft unknown to the British airmen at Sutton Bridge. Other US visitors included Brigadier-General James Doolittle and an entourage of high ranking officials. Arriving on a Douglas C-47 ‘Skytrain’, they were here to inspect the training methods of the Gunnery School and try out the Spitfires for themselves.

Even with experienced pilots and gunners, mishaps continued to happen. As the summer of 1942 led into the autumn and eventually winter, so the cold, fog and frosts began to return too.

Accidents and Operational Hazards

But the cold weather was not the only problem pilots had to contend with. Even though, those who attended the gunnery school had already received operational experience, it didn’t stop them having accidents. Between August 1st 1942 and New Year 1943, there were no less than fourteen crashes on the airfield all relating to undercarriage issues; either a heavy landing, blown tyres or a pilot’s mishandling of the aircraft.

Winter Challenges, Early 1943

With heavy snows in January 1943, present aircraft had to be stored undercover, being pushed by hand, into the hangars. Waterlogged ground froze, and ice became the norm. What flying could be done could only be done in Magisters, the Spitfires flimsy flaps and undercarriages being too prone to damage in such appalling conditions. By the end of January and beginning of February, servicing also become an issue with around two-thirds of the sixty available aircraft requiring remedial attention.

Spring Accidents, more Losses and more Changes

As the winter changed to spring the weather turned, the ground thawed and flying took place once more. On 10th April, a Wellington of the CGS, Wellington IA N2865 piloted by Flt. Lt. Terence C. Stanbury, collided in mid air whilst undertaking a training exercise with Spitfire IIa (P7677) piloted by Flt. Lt. Ernest H. Griffith of the RAAF. The two aircraft were performing gunnery manoeuvres over Abbots Ripon not far from Alconbury in Huntingdon, when they accidentally collided sending both aircraft to the ground.

Flt. Lt. Griffith managed to bale out suffering minor injuries and was returned to Sutton Bridge where he was treated before returning to flying duties. The Wellington crew were not so fortunate however, and all six were killed. The crew was a truly multinational one consisting of a Scot, a Canadian, and two Australians.  The Pilot, Flt. Lt. Stanbury lies in Sutton Bridge churchyard.*18

Leadership within the CGS changed hands on numerous occasions during its wartime history; one of the more famous associated with it being New Zealander Wg. Cdr. Alan C. Deere, whose achievements overshadowed most who followed him. On appointment to lead the Pilot Gunnery Instructor Training Wing, (a part of the CGS) on October 21st 1943, he would have twenty-two kills to his name, an ideal candidate to lead such a school.

1944 – Departure of the Central Gunnery School

By February 1944, a further reorganisation occurred and it was decided that the Central Gunnery School (CGS) would move on from Sutton Bridge. After two productive years, the school had more than demonstrated its value, but its departure left a sense of uncertainty. With Wing Commander Alan Deere posted to a desk job and the demand for new aircrew beginning to decline, the future of the airfield seemed in doubt. A review, downgrading, or even closure suddenly appeared possible.

For a time, Sutton Bridge became ‘spare’ and was placed in a state of ‘care and maintenance’, administered by RAF Peterborough while its long-term role was considered. Yet its story was far from over. With Peterborough heavily committed, Sutton Bridge was soon called upon to take on new duties. When the runways at RAF Newton (Peterborough’s satellite) required reseeding, its resident 16 (Polish) Service Flying Training School was temporarily relocated to Sutton Bridge. From early 1944 until August, the Polish unit brought a new but temporary life to the airfield before eventually returning to Newton once more.

Although winding down, the summer months continued to bring further activity. Between May and November an American unit, the 1st Gunnery & Towed Target Flight (1 G&TTF), arrived to operate alongside No. 1 Combined Combat Gunnery School, then based at RAF Snettisham. Their task was to provide target-towing services, a role previously carried out at Sutton Bridge by RAF flights equipped with Vultee Vengeance aircraft. Surplus Vengeances were duly handed over to the Americans, who continued the work with their own crews.

Meanwhile, No. 7 (Pilot) Advanced Flying Unit (7 (P)AFU, officially based at Peterborough, made increasing use of Sutton Bridge as an overflow for both day and night flying. Among its pupils were French trainees, who formed a distinct French wing within the unit, flying Miles Masters and Airspeed Oxfords. For a time this group carried the informal title of “French SFTS,” although this was later dropped.

As 1944 progressed, training pressures shifted. After D-Day, the demand for new pilots eased, and courses at Sutton Bridge became more general in nature. In December, 7 (P)AFU was reorganised and re-designated No. 7 Flying Training School (FTS). Training was split between the two sites: single-engine work at Peterborough, twin-engine training at Sutton Bridge. At the helm was Wing Commander David Kinnear, AFC, AFM, whose leadership steered the school through this transitional period.

For Sutton Bridge, this change marked the final stage of its wartime flying role. With nearby Sibson closed for runway maintenance, 7 FTS continued to operate from Sutton Bridge into the post-war years. The school remained there until 1946, making it the last operational flying unit to be based at RAF Sutton Bridge. After its departure, the airfield’s role shifted once again, becoming a relief landing ground and maintenance site, closing this chapter on its remarkable contribution to the war effort.

1946 – The End of an era

After its inevitable closure to flying, the site became a storage facility utilised by 58 Maintenance Unit (MU), whose work included servicing Derwent 8 and 9 jet engines, powering the RAF’s latest front-line aircraft, the Vampire and Meteor. For four more years Sutton Bridge was at the heart of this vital engineering effort, before activity gradually wound down once again as the station moved towards demobilisation.

Now surplus to requirements, it closed for good. This marked the end of the line for Sutton Bridge; as a small grass airfield with basic facilities, it was no longer capable of providing a use to a modern Air Force who had moved from piston engined aircraft to fast jets and the nuclear age. With a reorganisation of the entire air force likely, this small but highly significant site was abandoned, and all remaining military personnel departed locking the gates behind them; thus ending three decades of aviation activity.

Post War Legacy

From the 1920s through its wartime years, Sutton Bridge was a hive of activity and purpose. From the 1920s to the Central Gunnery School, training instructors in fighter and bomber gunnery, to the Fleet Air Arm squadrons working up in Ospreys, Skuas, and Nimrods over the Wash, the airfield was a crucible where skill, courage, and determination were forged. Advanced pilot training by 7 (P)AFU and 7 FTS saw cadets mastering single – and twin-engined aircraft, including Wellingtons, Hampdens, Spitfires, and Mustangs. Visits by senior figures, such as Air Chief Marshal Ludlow-Hewitt, underscored the station’s strategic importance. Hundreds of pilots and aircrew honed their skills at this small but significant airfield, readying themselves to defend Britain’s skies during the darkest days of 1940–41.

Sutton Bridge Today

Today, Sutton Bridge airfield has largely returned to the rhythms of the countryside, its runways removed and its technical and accommodation areas absorbed into the Wingland Enterprise Park – home to a large power station and a vegetable processing facility where only one of the original Bellman hangars still stands – a quiet sentinel to the airfield’s former life.

Sutton Bridge was far more than an RAF outpost. Its runways and the associated gunnery ranges served both the RAF, the Fleet Air Arm and the USAAF, becoming a crucial hub in Britain’s pre-war and wartime training network. Here, generations of instructors and trainees honed their skills, learning the art of aerial combat, navigation, and gunnery in an environment that was both demanding and dangerous.

The graves in St. Matthew’s churchyard are a poignant reminder of the risks inherent in training pilots. For every life lost, many others went on to defend Britain during the Battle of Britain and beyond, their courage and commitment standing as a beacon when the nation’s fate seemed uncertain. Between the opening of Sutton Bridge and the official end of the Battle of Britain, 525 trainees passed through its gates, with 390 qualifying for the Battle of Britain Clasp, a testament to the station’s vital contribution to the war effort.*19

Today, only a handful of tracks and a solitary building, believed to be a former squadron office, mark the site. Amidst polytunnels and vast potato stores, the airfield’s presence is almost invisible.

A memorial, incorporating the bent propellor of Hurricane L2529 of 56 OTU that crashed in March 1941, was  erected in 1993, near to the swing bridge, and stands in quiet tribute, commemorating all nationalities who served at Sutton Bridge, ensuring that the sacrifices and achievements of those who trained and served here are not forgotten.

As for the range at Holbeach, the very reason for RAF Sutton Bridge’s origin, it remains a vital asset to both the Royal Air Force and the USAF, having regular visits from Typhoons, F-15s, Ospreys, Apache Helicopters and more recently F-35s. On retirement of the RAF’s Tornado in 2019, it was overflown by a formation of three from RAF Marham. It remains publicly accessible and provides an exciting reminder of the history of aviation in and around the area of Sutton Bridge.

The full story can be read in Trail 3 – Gone but not Forgotten.

Sources and Further Reading (Sutton Bridge)

*1 Francis, P. “British Airfield Architecture” Patrick Stephens Ltd. 1996

*2 Goodrum,, A., “School of Aces” Amberley Publishing 2019.

*3 Royal Air Force Quarterly Vol 16. No.1. December 1944 (via Google books)

*4 There is no official evidence to support this claim but ‘eye-witnesses’ claim to have seen it carried out (as mentioned in Goodrum, 2019)

*5. Air of Authority / RAFweb – No. 801 Squadron movements, listing Sutton Bridge visits in July 1933, May 1935 and January 1938.

*6. Air of Authority / RAFweb – No. 802 Squadron movements, listing Sutton Bridge visits in August 1934 and May 1935.

*7. Royal Navy Research Archive – RAF Worthy Down station history, noting 803 Squadron’s move to Sutton Bridge on 5 February 1939 and 800 Squadron’s linked ship-to-shore activity in spring 1939.

*8 BAE Systems Website accessed 30.3.25.

*9 National Archives AIR 27/1553/1; AIR 27/1558/1

*10 Verkaik, R., “Defiant“. Robinson. 2020

*11 The National Archives, AIR 33/10, “Report No. 11. Visit to Sutton Bridge on 3 May 1940. Notes by the Inspector General,” dated 14 May 1940, signed Air Chief Marshal Sir Edgar Ludlow-Hewitt.

*12 Hamilton-Paterson, J., “Empire of the Clouds” Faber & Faber 2011

*13 Waterton, William Arthur., “The Quick and the Dead“. Grubb Street. 2012

*14 Goodrum,, A., “School of Aces” Amberley Publishing 2019.

*15 Chorley,  W.R. “Bomber Command Losses of the Second World War – 1942.” 1994, Midland Counties.

*16 Goodrum,, A., “School of Aces” Amberley Publishing 2019.

*17 Commonwealth War Graves Commission website

*18  – Aircrew Remembered website. accessed 30/8/25

*19 Goodrum,, A., “School of Aces” Amberley Publishing 2019.

National Archives: AIR 27/1558/1; AIR 27/1553/1; AIR 27/1514/2; AIR 27/1514/1; AIR 27/589/1; AIR 27/379/41

Goodrum. Alastair, “Through adversity” 2020. Amberley Publishing Limited

Flight Safety Network website 

RAF Sutton Bridge Part 5 – The arrival of The CGS

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In Part 4, the birth of 6 OTU turned Sutton Bridge into 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 5, the war expands, the need for pilots increases and the dangers become evermore present.

1941: The Expanding War

Whilst the threat of invasion had subsided by the end of 1941, attacks from German bombers were never far from the minds of those in command. With Sutton Bridge being one of the largest training airfields certainly in Lincolnshire and perhaps across England, it was rarely devoid of attention from the Luftwaffe.

As we have seen, few of these attacks caused little damage, the Q site taking more substantial hits than the airfield. However, attacks did occur, and the loss of a Hampden on 13th May 1941, was among one of the more serious ones.

On each of these bombing occasions fighters were scrambled from Sutton Bridge with little or no success in shooting down the enemy aircraft, but one, a JU 88 of 4./NJG 2, was brought down with the crew being killed. One of those onboard was recovered and it is he, Unteroffizier Heinz Schulz, who is laid to to rest among the sixty graves in St. Matthew’s. Some sources credit a Sutton Bridge Hurricane with the demise of the JU 88, whilst others say it was a night fighter from 25 Sqn at Wittering.

The Air Ministry then decided that with the threat of attack still  present, those airfields nearest the continent would have to be moved, and with enemy bomber formations attacking across East Anglia, Sutton Bridge was seen as one needing such a move.  As a result, contingency plans were put in place to accommodate this and 56 OTU was earmarked to move to Hawarden. However, the move never materialised, and the OTU remained firmly where they were – at least for now.

An International Gathering

The influx of American volunteers was only part of a much wider story as Sutton Bridge became a melting pot of Allied airmen. Norwegians, French, Polish, Canadians, Indians, New Zealanders and Australians all came here to learn the trade of aerial warfare. Many of the continental pilots had left their own homes when they fell to the Germans, escaping to England where they joined the RAF to fight another day. Others simply answered the call to join up and fight against the Nazis.

One such pilot was Indian born P.O. Mahinder Pujji who would go on to serve with great distinction after answering an advert in India, for recruits to join the Royal Air Force.

Mahinder arrived in the UK in August 1940, and by the October  he had received the King’s Commission. His journey to war was similar to many others, with his initial training being undertaken at RAF Uxbridge before he transferred to No. 9 Advanced Unit at RAF Hullavington. It was here that he joined the first group of Indian pilots selected for the Volunteer Reserve Commission. Out of twenty-four trainees, eighteen qualified, with six – including Pujji – going on to become fighter pilots.

After receiving his Wings on 16th April 1941 he was posted here to 56 OTU and Sutton Bridge. Training alongside other pilots he completed his course and was sent to RAF Martlesham Heath and his first frontline squadron 43 Sqn. After only a short period he transferred again, this time to RAF Kenley and 258 Sqn.

Despite suffering several crashes Mahinder would survive the war, achieving two ‘kills’ and three ‘damaged’, and rose to Squadron Leader. His career spanned three theatres of war – a remarkable journey that began on the flat fenland runways of Sutton Bridge.

P.O. Mahinder Pujji who trained at Sutton Bridge (Wikipedia)

Crowded Skies, Growing Dangers

This continual flow of airmen through the airfield meant that the numbers on roll were increasing steadily, and to match that, by May 1941, the number of aircraft available at Sutton Bridge had also steadily but substantially increased. 56 OTU now able to operate some seventy serviceable Hurricanes.

For some, the cold and damp British weather of 1941 was a far cry from home, and fog often caught the unwary out. The idiosyncrasies of the Hurricane also took a little getting use to. On October 20th 1941, P.O. Norman Choppen lost power and crashed into the ground after he had entered a shallow dive, possibly with the idea of bringing the Hurricane down to land.  Ten days later, three more aircraft were severely damaged when P.O. McKillop, Sgt. Zadworthy and Sgt. Johnson all landed breaking the undercarriages off of their Hurricanes. Along with four deaths and other accidents, the period from early October to mid November was the most costly in human terms.

1942: Transition and Advanced Training

The transition between 1941 and 1942 saw little change and little in the way of drama at Sutton Bridge. But the beginning of the new year was marred by yet another serious collision in which the crews of two aircraft were killed. However, these were not two fighters, but a Hurricane from Sutton Bridge and a Stirling based at Oakington and 7 Squadron.

On January 17th, 1942 Stirling W7467, piloted by Flt. Sgt. R.W. Taylor was out on a training mission when it was the recipient of an unauthorised ‘attack’ from Hurricane V6865 from the OTU at Sutton Bridge. In the attack, Pilot Officer Derek Browne, aged just 19, made several high speed passes at the Stirling as it headed home. On the last pass, Browne misjudged the distance between himself and the Stirling and rammed the bomber’s fuselage.

The eight crew of the bomber, had attempted to warn Browne off by firing their guns toward the Hurricane, but this failed to deter Browne from his dangerous activities and the ultimate and tragic sacrifice was paid.

The Stirling, being over the soft soil at Haddenham Drain (about 1.5 miles north of Earith Bridge in Cambridgeshire), plunged some 15 feet into the ground leaving a crater that burned for several days before finally filling with water. The condition of the ground meant that the task of recovering two of the crew’s remains, Sgt. McCarley and Sgt. Mankelow was impossible and they remain there to this day. *15

Stirling Memorial (RAF Oakington)

The Memorial to those lost on 17th January 1942. (Paul Cannon)

Changes were afoot – The Central Gunnery School arrives at Sutton Bridge

By March, further changes were afoot and 56 OTU was ordered north to RAF Tealing. Some estimates have the number of pilots passing through here at this point as high as 1,000, many of whom went on to fight in Britain’s darkest hour – the Battle of Britain.

The change of ownership at Sutton Bridge brought with it the Central Gunnery School (CGS), an organisation first established at RAF Warmwell on 6th November 1939. Its role was to provide advanced training for gunnery instructors, covering both fighter gunnery – through the Pilot Gunnery Instructor Wing – and bomber gunnery, via the Gunnery Leader Wing. In essence, the CGS was designed to “train the trainers”, developing specialists who would then return to operational units and pass on their expertise to their own gunners.

Just before the CGS arrived, Sutton Bridge had already experienced a brief period of instructor training with the arrival of No. 2 Flying Instructors’ School (Advanced). Re-formed at RAF Montrose in January 1942, No. 2 FIS (Advanced) provided advanced courses for experienced pilots preparing to become instructors. By March that year the unit had moved to Sutton Bridge, but its independent life was short-lived. On 28th March 1942 it was absorbed into the newly established CGS, which officially transferred from Chelveston to Sutton Bridge on 1st April 1942, the anniversary of the RAF’s formation.

From that point on, the CGS became synonymous with Sutton Bridge, remaining the station’s longest-serving wartime unit. Its dual structure meant that both fighter and bomber gunnery specialists were trained side by side, bringing a wide variety of aircraft to the airfield. Wellingtons, Hampdens, Spitfires and Mustangs all became familiar sights in the skies over the Wash as instructor after instructor refined their skills.

Gunnery Leaders’ Course, RAF Sutton Bridge, October 1942 (IBCC Digital Archive, CC BY-NC 4.0).

The CGS’s arrival also meant the departure of the longstanding 1489 Target Towing Flight (TT) who had used both the Henly and Lysander as target tugs. With the CGS utilising the range at Holbeach much more along with their own target tugs, the TT Flight were seen as surplus to requirements and transferred out to RAF Matlaske on the North Norfolk coast.

More changes at the Top

Taking up a new post at the CGS, Chief Instructor Sqn. Ldr. Allan Wright, arrived in a Hampden flown by Flt. Lt. Claude Mandeville. He would join Wing Commander Adolf ‘Sailor‘ Malan DSO. DFC. who between them would take charge of the unit  knocking it into shape as quickly as possible. Above them, was the newly appointed and formidable Station Commander Grp. Capt. Claud Hilton Keith who had been told by the AOC that this command was “dirty, unhappy and inefficient.”*16

Keith would run the CGS in a much more professional manner than had been done before, providing expert training to those who had already achieved operational experience and had proven themselves in air gunnery. To him, it was a privilege to attend the CGS, and standards were set very high.

With courses running for both bomber gunners and fighter pilots, one would be used to ‘attack’ the other whilst cine film recordings in both aircraft were made for later analysis. This proved a useful tool that kept pilots, gunners and much needed aircraft out of relative harm’s way.

The CGS’s ever increasing thirst for quality instructors led to the arrival of Flt. Lt. Richard A.D. Trevor-Roper DFC, DFM in August 1943. Roper was just short of two tours in bombers, when he was drafted into 617 Sqn and the tail end of Guy Gibson’s Lancaster on the famous Dams raid. He brought a wealth of experience and knowledge to the courses at Sutton Bridge which he shared with those he instructed before being eventually posted back to an operational unit.

When Arthur Harris ordered the first of the 1,000 bomber raids, it was an all out effort to get every bomber available in to the air and over Germany. Sutton Bridge and the CGS played their part getting three war-weary time-expired Wellingtons into the air. Each of these bombers flew to RAF Feltwell, where they joined the resident 75 Sqn for operations to Koln. Mainly crewed and maintained by CGS personnel, the Wellingtons included a MK.1A, an aircraft that had long since seen its day, and should have been scrapped, or at least reduced to lesser duties. But determined to do their part, the crew took off from Feltwell and set off toward Germany.

After departure at 23:57 on May 30th, the bomber was not heard from again, and was subsequently found to have been shot down by a night fighter over Klarenbeek in Holland. All but one of the crew on board were killed in the attack, the survivor, Flt. Sgt. G. J. Waddington-Allwright, being taken prisoner and incarcerated as a POW.

The two sections of the CGS (fighter and bomber wings) were initially operating separately, the fighter wing being brought down from Wittering to join the bomber wing at Sutton Bridge in April 1942. With them, came Spitfires, so many in fact, that they quickly lost their ‘head turning’ appeal to both pilots and locals alike. One of these aircraft, P7350, had served with 603 Sqn during the Battle of Britain. After being shot down, repaired and returned to service on more than one occasion, it ended up starring in the 1968 film “Battle of Britain” before heading off to the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight at RAF Coningsby where it continues to fly today. It remains the only air worthy example of its type that actually flew and fought in the Battle in 1940.

Spitfire

Spitfire P7350 formally of the CGS Sutton Bridge at Duxford September 2014

Rocket-Firing Hurricane Trials

Another important milestone in the history of Sutton Bridge was the testing of rocket firing Hurricanes as developed by the Aircraft and Armament Experimental Establishment at Boscombe Down. Hurricanes fitted with rocket projectiles used the range at Holbeach whilst being temporarily based at Sutton Bridge. One of these Hurricanes (of which there were initially two) was flown by Wg. Cdr. Albert F. Bennet. Bennet flew Z2415 to Sutton Bridge where he began trials firing the 3-inch projectiles at targets in the Wash. On his second day of flying, July 1st, 1942, the Hurricane, for unknown reasons, suddenly exploded over the village  killing 29 year-old Bennet in the process. Debris from the explosion was scatted over a wide area and two civilians on the ground were also injured. Bennet was later taken to Brookwood Cemetery where he is buried in plot 24. B. 13. *17

By 1941 Sutton Bridge had grown into a bustling hub of Allied air training, hosting a mix of British, European, Commonwealth, and American pilots. The airfield remained under constant threat from Luftwaffe raids, while crowded skies and inexperienced trainees made accidents a grim reality. In 1942, the focus shifted from front-line pilot training to advanced gunnery instruction with the arrival of the Central Gunnery School. Fighter and bomber crews honed their skills in Spitfires, Wellingtons, and Hampdens, while innovative experiments, including rocket-firing Hurricanes, highlighted Sutton Bridge’s role at the cutting edge of aerial warfare. Despite progress, the dangers were ever-present, with both trainees and experienced instructors paying the ultimate price.

Part 6 takes us to the end of the war and Sutton Bridge’s final days.

The full story can be read in Trail 3 – Gone but not Forgotten.

RAF Sutton Bridge Part 3 – Defiants and Battles

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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 bombs store 2

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.

The full story can be read in Trail 3 – Gone but not Forgotten.

RAF Sutton Bridge Part 1 – Its Origins and Early Days.

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On the windswept Fens bordering Lincolnshire and Norfolk lies a site that shaped the skies of World War II. Far more than a quiet airfield, it was a crucible for pilots from Britain, the Commonwealth, and beyond, where Hurricanes, Spitfires, and Wellingtons soared – and often fell – as young airmen learned the deadly art of aerial warfare.

From rocket-firing trials to emergency landings, from multinational trainees to seasoned instructors, this airfield was a hub of innovation, skill, and courage. Lives were lost, lessons were learned, and generations of aircrew left ready to defend Britain’s skies. Though the airfield has largely returned to nature, its legacy remains – a testament to bravery, determination, and the high stakes of war in the air.

In Trail 3, we revisit the airfield that was RAF Sutton Bridge.

RAF Sutton Bridge

The origins of Sutton Bridge airfield are rooted some 20 years before the start of the Second World War, and largely owes its creation to the Holbeach firing range located in the shallows of the Wash just a stones throw north of the airfield. The range, which is still in operation today, was first supported by the airfield at Sutton Bridge as early as 1926 – a basic airfield from which to base those units using the range.

From Fens to Flying Fields

The airfield itself sits on the edge of the Fens, a flat, open area often referred to as ‘desolate’ and ‘drab’. In winter, certainly the wide open expanses allow winds to blow freely across its dark silt substrate, much of which lay under water for millions of years previously. But this dark open landscape offers prime agricultural and historical prospects, the Romans, Vikings and the Icini people all having made their mark on its dramatic landscape.

The airfield’s roots go back as far as the end of the First World War, the then newly formed RAF was cut back hard, reduced to a mere twenty-five squadrons for both home defence and to protect the commonwealth’s interests abroad. With little need seen for a home based air force, little thought was put into preparing pilots and gunners for any likely future conflict. To keep pilots busy, aerobatics and formation flying took preference over mock dog fights, aerial warfare tactics and ground attack practise.

But by the 1920s, this was not seen as productive and thoughts began to turn to training crews more responsibly, after all, if a pilot cannot engage and defeat his enemy then what use is he? So, a new firing range was sought to train pilots and gunners in the art of ground attack and air-to-air firing. The area required for such a task would need to be away from the public, but easily accessible and coastal, preferably with shallows waters. In 1925, several areas were seen as possible candidates; Catfoss, Donna Nook and an area known as Holbeach Marsh on the Lincolnshire / Norfolk border. After inspection by the Air Ministry, all three were deemed ideal, and so they took control creating three new ranges for the RAF’s use.

To be able to access the range at Holbeach, a nearby airfield was then needed, and being the closest, the former World War 1 site at Tydd St. Mary was given first consideration. However, strong objections from both local landowners and the council jointly, persuaded the military otherwise, and so an alternative had to be found.

The Birth of Sutton Bridge

The Ministry looked further east, nearer to the Wash, and found a small area close to the village of Sutton Bridge on the Lincoln / Norfolk border, about a mile or so from the sea. It would be perfect, and so an area of some 130 acres was obtained through either purchase or lease, allowing, on 1st September 1926, the birth of the soon to be, RAF Sutton Bridge.

The airfield’s main entrance gate and guard house, leading down towards the Mechanical Transport (MT) Shed, Bessonneau hangars and the airfield ground beyond. Visible in the far left background is the new Hinaidi type aircraft hangar built during the 1930s replacing two of the airfield’s original four Bessonneau type aircraft hangars. (source wiki)

Sitting on prime agricultural land, the airfield was hemmed in by both the River Nene along the western boundary and a former LNER railway line (now the A17 road) along the northern boundary. The borders of the two counties, Lincolnshire and Norfolk, cross the airfield resulting in it being divided between the two. The nature of this design though, would later on, lead  to many problems. The airfield being irregular in shape, meant that landing across it – cross-wind east / west – was very difficult if not impossible as there was insufficient room to do so. This would, in itself, restrict the number of days on which flying by trainees could take place, thus forcing them to make difficult cross-wind landings when they did.

In these early days Sutton Bridge would be rudimentary at best, bell tents being the main form of accommodation; only developing as new and longer training courses were needed. More permanent buildings were gradually erected including an Officers’ Mess, permanent accommodation blocks and maintenance workshops.

The 1920s was not a time for major airfield construction though, very few companies had developed or mastered the necessary skills needed for good airfield development. A local business,  Messers Thomson and Sons of Peterborough, were initially brought in, commencing the construction with small roads and tracks, along with four canvas Bessonneau hangars for storage and maintenance. Rudimentary maybe, but it was beginning to take some shape.

Original Entrance

The original entrance today.

Expansion and Identity: Sutton Bridge in the 1930s

The emergence of the ‘expansion period‘ in the 1930s, saw a period of rapid change and development in the military, where the need for airfields and a strong air force was seen as priority. Airfield development now began to improve and new companies, skilled in their design and construction, emerged onto the scene. One of these, “En-Tout-Cas”, in conjunction with other smaller companies, was enlisted to oversee the continued construction of the site at Sutton Bridge. These new and more experienced companies were employed under contract directly with the Air Ministry, using both civilian workers and their equipment, to build not only Sutton Bridge but Catfoss, Lee-on-Solent and Sealand as well *1

On January 1st 1932, the various training sites including Sutton Bridge were given formal titles – Armament Training Camps (ATC) – with each being given a number to distinguish them. Sutton Bridge became known as No. 3 ATC, handling fighter squadrons. Over the next few years it would go through a series of name changes, the first being on 1st April 1938, when it became 3 Armament Training Station (ATS), and then again, a year later, it would close only to reopen under the name of 4 Air Observers School (AOS).

Being better skilled in airfield design and construction, specific buildings for particular tasks were now being added to the work already done, small blocks for administration, maintenance sheds and such like all began to spring up. Being a pre-war construction, all buildings, including accommodation blocks, were placed directly on the airfield site rather than being dispersed as was the norm later on. Dispersals for aircrew were located at different points around the airfield’s perimeter, alongside the aircraft dispersals, and were brick built to protect crews from the heat and cold of the Fen weather.

The early Bell tents and Marquees were gradually replaced with more permanent brick structures arranged neatly in rows alongside the access road. Even with more permanent structures to bed down in, the comforts of a proper bed failed to materialise, instead metal stretchers with sawdust filled wadding for a mattress became the norm. *2

Wartime Growth and Shifting Commands

The runways of which there were three, were initially grass, but as the war progressed these were upgraded to ‘hard’ surfaces using a mix of steel matting, 080 American Planking and 130 Sommerfeld Track; all variants of metal planks that locked together to form a temporary but hard base. A concrete perimeter track was installed and fourteen hardstands were added using a hardcore base with tarmac coverings. In addition, two Bellman hangars, one Aeroplane Repair Section (ARS) Hangar and twelve 69 ft blister hangars were also erected on site. By the time it was established it had become a formidable site.

Sutton Bridge was passed directly to RAF control fourteen days after initial construction began, followed two weeks later by the arrival of the first RAF personnel from RAF Bircham Newton.

In these pre and early war years, the airfield would go through a series of ‘owners’ with 25 (Armament Training Group) under The Flying Training Command taking over in 1937 followed by 12 Group Fighter Command in September 1939 and finally back to The Flying Training Command once again in April 1942. The rapid change of ownership reflecting the many changes that the airfield would go through and the many units that would use its meagre but highly regarded facilities.

All these changes would mean that personnel numbers would fluctuate throughout the war depending upon who was there and what courses were being run, but in general the airfield accommodation could initially cater for 109 Officers, 110 Senior Non-Commissioned Officers and 110 ordinary rank male personnel; WAAFs were also catered for with 6, 12 and 361 respectfully. The fluctuation in staff would also reflect the numbers and types of aircraft on site. It is known that at one point there were no less than ninety Hurricanes plus other trainers along with Spitfires and Wellingtons on the airfield at one time.

For those travelling here on a posting, a train station was conveniently placed across the road from the airfield, getting to and from it was therefore relatively easy as long as the trains were running.

Photograph of the airfield’s main entrance (left) the Mechanical Transport (MT) Shed and on-site airfield road leading down towards four Bessonneau hangars and the airfield ground beyond. (Source via Wiki)

So far we have seen how Sutton Bridge began, how its origins owe its thanks to the range at Holbeach and how over the immediate post war years it developed as an airfield. In Part 2, we progress  through the 1920s and 1930s towards war, during which time, Sutton Bridge shone in the public eye, with pageants and air displays that enthralled the locals.

The full story can be read in Trail 3 – Gone but not Forgotten.

November 7th 1945 – World Air Speed Record Herne Bay.

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Trail 44 takes a look at the aviation highlights of the North Kent Coast in the small town of Herne Bay and its neighbour Reculver. It was here, on November 7th 1945, that the World Air Speed record was set in a ‘duel’ between two Gloster Meteors, as they raced across the Kent Sky.

On that day, two Meteor aircraft were prepared in which two pilots, both flying for different groups, would attempt to set a new World Air Speed record over a set course along Herne Bay’s seafront. The first aircraft was piloted by Group Captain Hugh Joseph Wilson, CBE, AFC (the Commandant of the Empire Test Pilots’ School, Cranfield); and the second by Mr. Eric Stanley Greenwood O.B.E., Gloster’s own chief test pilot. In a few hours time both men would have the chance to have their names entered in the history books of aviation by breaking through the 600mph air speed barrier.

The event was run in line with the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale‘s rules, covering in total, an 8 mile course flown at, or below, 250 feet. For the attempt, there would be four runs in total by each pilot, two east-to-west and two west-to-east.

With good but not ideal weather, Wilson’s aircraft took off from the former RAF Manston, circling over Thanet before lining his aircraft up for the run in. Following red balloon markers along the shoreline, Wilson flew along the 8 mile course at 250 feet between Reculver Point and  Herne Bay Pier toward the Isle of Sheppey. Above Sheppey, (and below 1,300 ft) Wilson would turn his aircraft and line up for the next run, again at 250ft.

Initial results showed Greenwood achieving the higher speeds, and these were eagerly flashed around the world. However, after confirmation from more sophisticated timing equipment, it was later confirmed that the higher speed was in fact achieved by Wilson, whose recorded speeds were: 604mph, 608mph, 602mph and 611mph, giving an average speed of just over 606mph. Eric Greenwood’s flights were also confirmed, but slightly slower at:  599mph, 608mph, 598mph and 607mph, giving an overall average speed of 603mph. The actual confirmed and awarded speed over the four runs was 606.38mph by Wilson*1.

The event was big news around the world, a reporter for ‘The Argus*2‘ – a Melbourne newspaper – described how both pilots used only two-thirds of their permitted power, and how they both wanted permission to push the air speed even higher, but both were denied at the time.

In the following day’s report*3, Greenwood described what it was like flying at over 600 mph for the very first time.

As I shot across the course of three kilometres (one mile seven furlongs), my principal  worry was to keep my eye on the light on the pier, for it was the best guiding beacon there was. On my first run I hit a bump, got a wing down, and my nose slewed off a bit, but I got back on the course. Below the sea appeared to be rushing past like an out-of-focus picture.

I could not see the Isle of Sheppey, toward which I was heading, because visibility was not all that I wanted.

At 600mph it is a matter of seconds before you are there. It came up just where I  expected it. In the cockpit I was wearing a tropical helmet, grey flannel bags, a white silk shirt, and ordinary shoes. The ride was quite comfortable, and not as bumpy as some practice runs. I did not have time to pay much attention to the gauges and meters, but I could see that my air speed indicator was bobbing round the 600mph mark.

On the first run I only glanced at the altimeter on the turns, so that I should not go too high. My right hand was kept pretty busy on the stick (control column), and my left hand was. throbbing on the two throttle levers.

Greenwood went on to describe how it took four attempts to start the upgraded engines, delaying his attempt by an hour…

I had to get in and out of the cockpit four times before the engines finally started. A technical hitch delayed me for about an hour, and all the time I was getting colder and colder. At last I got away round about 11.30am. 

He described in some detail the first and second runs…

On the first run I had a fleeting glance at the blurred coast, and saw quite a crowd of onlookers on the cliffs. I remembered that my wife was watching me, and I found that there was time to wonder what she was thinking. I knew that she would be more worried than I was, and it struck me that the sooner I could get the thing over the sooner her fears would be put at rest.

On my first turn toward the Isle of Sheppey I was well lined up for passing over the Eastchurch airfield, where visibility was poor for this high-speed type of flying. The horizon had completely disappeared, and I turned by looking down at the ground and hoping that, on coming out of the bank, I would be pointing at two balloons on the pier 12 miles ahead. They were not visible at first.

All this time my air speed indicator had not dropped below 560 mph, in spite of my back-throttling slightly. Then the guiding light flashed from the pier, and in a moment I saw the balloons, so I knew that I was all right for that.

On the return run of my first circuit the cockpit began to get hot. It was for all the world like a tropical-summer day. Perspiration began to collect on my forehead. I did not want it to cloud my eyes, so for the fraction of a second I took my hands off the controls and wiped the sweat off with the back of my gloved hand. I had decided not to wear goggles, as the cockpit was completely sealed. I had taken the precaution, however, of leaving my oxygen turned on, because I thought that it was just that little extra care that might prevent my getting the feeling of “Don’t fence me in.”

Normally I don’t suffer from a feeling of being cooked up in an aircraft, but the Meteor’s cockpit was so completely sealed up that I was not certain how I should feel. As all had gone well, and I had got half-way through the course I checked up my fuel content gauges to be sure that I had plenty of paraffin to complete the job.

I passed over Manston airfield on the second run rather farther east than I had hoped, so my turn took me farther out to sea than I had budgeted for. But I managed to line up again quite satisfactorily, and I opened up just as I was approaching Margate pier at a height of 800 feet. My speed was then 560 mph.

Whilst the first run was smooth, the second he said, “Shook the base of his spine”.

This second run was not so smooth, for I hit a few bumps, which shook the base of my spine. Hitting air bumps at 600 mph is like falling down stone steps—a series of nasty jars. But the biffs were not bad enough to make me back-throttle, and I passed over the line without incident, except that I felt extremely hot and clammy.

After he had completed his four attempts, Greenwood described how he had difficulty in lowering his airspeed to enable him to land safely…

At the end of my effort I came to one of the most difficult jobs of the lot. It was to lose speed after having travelled at 600 mph. I started back-throttling immediately after I had finished my final run, but I had to circuit Manston airfield three times before I got my speed down to 200mph.

The two Meteor aircraft were especially modified for the event. Both originally built as MK.III aircraft – ‘EE454’ (Britannia ) and ‘EE455’ (Yellow Peril) – they had the original engines replaced with Derwent Mk.V turbojets (a scaled-down version of the RB.41 Nene) increasing the thrust to a maximum of 4,000 lbs at sea level – for the runs though, this would be limited to 3,600 lbs each. Other modifications included: reducing and strengthening the canopy; lightening the air frames by removal of all weaponry; smoothing of all flying surfaces; sealing of trim tabs, along with shortening and reshaping of the wings – all of which would go toward making the aircraft as streamlined as possible.

Related image

EE455 ‘Yellow Peril’ was painted in an all yellow scheme (with silver outer wings) to make itself more visible for recording cameras.*4

An official application for the record was submitted to the International Aeronautical Federation for world recognition. As it was announced, Air-Marshal Sir William Coryton (former commander of 5 Group) said that: “Britain had hoped to go farther, but minor defects had developed in ‘Britannia’. There was no sign of damage to the other machine“, he went on to say.

Wilson, born at Westminster, London, England, 28th May 1908, initially received a short service commission, after which he rose through the ranks of the Royal Air Force eventually being placed on the Reserves Officers list. With the outbreak of war, Flt. Lt. Wilson was recalled and assigned as Commanding Officer to the Aerodynamic Flight, R.A.E. Farnborough. A year after promotion to the rank of Squadron Leader in 1940, he was appointed chief test pilot at the Royal Aircraft Establishment (R.A.E.) who were then testing captured enemy aircraft. He was promoted to Wing Commander, 20th August 1945, retiring on 20th June 1948 as a Group Captain.

Eric Greenwood, Gloster’s Chief Test Pilot, was credited with the first pilot to exceed 600 miles per hour in level flight, and was awarded the O.B.E. on 13th June 1946.

His career started straight from school, learning to fly at No. 5 F.T.S. at Sealand in 1928. He was then posted to 3 Sqn. at Upavon flying Hawker Woodcocks and Bristol Bulldogs before taking an instructors course, a role he continued in until the end of his commission. After leaving the R.A.F., Greenwood joined up with Lord Malcolm Douglas Hamilton (later Group Captain), performing barnstorming flying and private charter flights in Scotland.

Greenwood then flew to the far East to help set up the Malayan Air Force under the guise of the Penang Flying Club. His time here was adventurous, flying some 2,000 hours in adapted Tiger Moths. His eventual return to England saw him flying for the Armstrong Whitworth, Hawker and Gloster companies, before being sent as chief test pilot to the Air Service Training (A.S.T.) at Hamble in 1941. Here he would test modified U.S. built aircraft such as the Airocobra, until the summer of 1944 when he moved back to Gloster’s – again as test pilot.

It was whilst here at Gloster’s that Greenwood would break two world air speed records, both within two weeks of each other. Pushing a Meteor passed both the 500mph and 600mph barriers meant that the R.A.F. had a fighter that could not only match many of its counterparts but one that had taken aviation to new record speeds.

During the trials for the Meteor, Greenwood and Wilson were joined by Captain Eric ‘Winkle’ Brown, who between them tested the slimmed-down and ‘lacquered until it shone’ machine, comparing  drag coefficients with standard machines. Every inch of power had to be squeezed from the engine as reheats were still in their infancy and much too dangerous to use in such trials.

To mark this historic event, two plaques were made, but never, it would seem, displayed. Reputed to have been saved from a council skip, they were initially thought to have been placed in a local cafe, after the cliffs – where they were meant to be displayed – collapsed. The plaques were however left in the council’s possession, until saved by an eagle-eyed employee. Today, they are located in the RAF Manston History Museum where they remain on public display.

RAF Manston History Museum

One of the two plaques now on display at the RAF Manston History Museum.

To mark the place in Herne Bay where this historic event took place, an information board has been added, going some small way to paying tribute to the men and machines who set the world alight with a new World Air Speed record only a few hundred feet from where it stands.

Part of the Herne Bay Tribute to the World Air Speed Record set by Group Captain H.J. Wilson (note the incorrect speed given).

Sources and Further Reading.

*1 Guinness World Records website accessed 22/8/17.

*2 The Argus News report, Thursday November 8th 1945 (website) (Recorded readings quoted in this issue were incorrect, the correct records were given in the following day’s issue).

*3 The Argus News report, Thursday November 9th 1945 (website)

*4 Photo from Special Hobby website.

The RAF Manston History Museum website has details of opening times and location.

The Manston Spitfire and Hurricane Memorial museum website has details of opening times and location.