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On arrival at an advanced training unit, the would-be fighter pilot is introduced to a range of new types of machines

NOT all pilots want to fly bombers. Indeed, it is probably true to say that the lure of the high-speed fighter is stronger than that of the bomber, and that more pilots start their flying career with the ambition of becoming fighter pilots than pilots of any other type.

NIGHT FIGHTER PILOTS STAND BY. The night fighter pilots shown here are in the dispersal hut of a fighter station where they are awaiting the call to action. They are wearing most of their flying clothing so as to be ready to take the air at a moment’s notice. The dark goggles are worn to adapt their eyes to the darkness. Once in the air they are guided into contact with the enemy by radio telephone.

However, as their flying training proceeds, their instructors, who are no mean psychologists, can usually pick out the men best suited for the various types of flying. They weigh up the temperaments and special qualifications and abilities of each man who comes under their care, and make a detailed report to the powers that be. Although consideration is given to the pilot’s own wishes in the matter, very often it is considered that a man who wants to be a fighter pilot would be far more useful at the controls of, say, a bomber or a reconnaissance plane, and in such cases the decision of the commanding officer, which is based, of course, on the full reports of the man’s flying career to date, must be accepted as final.

All pilots start their career in the same way— they begin at the receiving wing, then they go to an initial training squadron, then to an Elementary Flying Training School. It is after they have completed their course at the E.F.T.S. that they reach the parting of the ways, the bomber pilot, as we have seen, continuing his training on twin-engine machines such as the Airspeed Oxford, and the embryo fighter pilot on fast single-engine trainers such as Miles Masters or North American Harvards.

The fighter pilot on arriving at an advanced training unit is introduced to these new types of machines. He finds them altogether different from the tiny Moths or Magisters which he flew at the E.F.T.S. They are much bigger and faster, and are equipped with all the complicated peraphernalia with which the fighter pilot must become fully conversant before he is qualified to go into action in a Spitfire or a Hurricane.

The Miles Master is the fastest training machine in use by any air force in the world. It is a cantilever low-wing monoplane of wood construction with enclosed cockpits in tandem, and is fitted with a specially acting undercarriage that turns and retracts backwards into the wings. The power unit of the Master I is a single 585 h.p. Rolls-Royce Kestrel XXX engine which gives it a maximum speed of 250 miles per hour. The Master II, with its Bristol Mercury engine, is even faster. The Master, like all other trainer machines, is fitted with dual controls and is painted bright yellow on its under surfaces.

THE MILES MASTER I ADVANCED TRAINER. This aircraft contains practically all the equipment found on operational types of fighters and is an ideal machine for introducing pilots to the new technique of high-speed flying. It is powered by a 585 h.p. Rolls-Royce Kestrel engine which gives it a top speed of 250 miles per hour. It is a low-wing cantilever monoplane of wood construction, and has a retractable undercarriage and a three blade constant-speed wooden airscrew.

The North American Harvard trainer is also widely used for training fighter pilots. Although it is considerably slower than the Master, it is an excellent machine for the purpose. Like the Master, it is a low-wing cantilever monoplane; it is of all-metal stressed-skin construction, and its 600 h.p. Pratt and Whitney engine gives it a maximum speed of 209 miles per hour. The undercarriage retracts inwards. It can be easily recognized in flight by the swept back leading edges of the wings and the straight trailing edges.

These, then, are the machines in which the fighter pilot gets his first real taste of high-speed flying. They are the last rung on the ladder leading to the latest types of fighting planes which he will fly in operations against the enemy.

NORTH AMERICAN HARVARD TRAINERS. The Harvard, although slower than the Master, is an excellent training aircraft. It is of metal construction and is powered by a 600 h.p. Pratt and Whitney Wasp engine which gives it a top speed of 209 miles per hour. It has a service ceiling of 24,000 feet. The pilots above are receiving final hints on map reading before going up on a cross-country flight.

After the little initial trainers to which he has been accustomed, the budding fighter pilot finds the advanced trainer rather a formidable proposition — at first at any rate. The imposing array of gauges, dials and levers that ornament the instrument panel impress him considerably — the Master, for example, has forty-three — and he wonders whether he will ever be able to check up on them all and still find time to fly the machine. His fears, however, are soon put at rest, for he finds that, with the aid of the excellent system of memorizing the flying procedure used in the Service, he is, before long, scarcely conscious of them at all.

INSTRUMENT PANEL OF MILES MASTER. Illustration showing dials and gauges on the instrument panel of the Master.

The key is given below.

The numbers indicate 1, flaps position indicator; 2, airspeed indicator correction card; 3, speaking tube connexion; 4, reflector sight lamp socket; 5, reflector dimmer switch; 6 and 10, cockpit lamps dimmer switch, port and starboard; 7, undercarriage position indicator; 8, instrument flying hood release; 9, engine revolution indicator; 11, signalling switch box; 12, main magneto switches and undercarriage indicator switch;

13, oxygen regulator; 14, airspeed indicator; 15, artificial horizon; 16, rate of climb indicator; 17, oil temperature thermometer; 18, oil pressure gauge; 19, boost pressure gauge; 20, fuel pressure gauge; 21, cockpit lamp; 22, landing lamps switch; 23, time of flight clock; 24, altimeter; 25, directional gyroscope; 26, turn and bank indicator; 27 and 28, fuel contents indicators, port and starboard tanks; 29, fire extinguisher switch; 30, bomb selector switches; 31, radiator flap indicator; 32, bomb jettison switch; 33, oil cock; 34, starting magneto switch; 35, priming pump; 36, pneumatic system pressure gauge; 37, radiator temp, gauge; 38, fuel contents indicator switch; 39, brake pressure gauge; 40, hydraulic system pressure gauge; 41, control box; 42, radiator flap control; 43, compass.

The pilot is astonished when his instructor takes him up for his first trial “flip” in an advanced trainer, at the tremendous rate of acceleration. He notes with interest the increased angle of climb and the higher take-off and landing speeds. This first flight is, of course, only an “experience” flight, its object being merely to give the pilot an introduction to this rather different form of flying. The instructor chats away to him through the intercommunication telephone and from time to time draws his attention to various general points of interest regarding the aircraft and its behaviour, taking care not to say too much at first for fear of confusing his new pupil.

Before the pilot is actually allowed to handle the controls of the new machine he attends lectures and learns much he did not know about high-speed flying. He is initiated into the mysteries of the retractable undercarriage, and told that the first thing he must do on taking off is to retract it so as not to retard the rate of acceleration. He is also told that it is very much better, should he have to make a forced landing on difficult ground, to do so with the undercarriage pulled up, for if he were to hit an obstacle with it down it is almost certain that the plane would overturn with serious consequences both to himself and his aircraft. With the undercarriage in the retracted position, however, he could “pancake” his aircraft to earth and in all probability get away with nothing worse than a bit of a shaking and perhaps a bent or twisted airscrew.

THE MILES MASTER II is similar to the Mk. I version except that it has a Bristol Mercury radial engine which gives it a higher top speed.

With the passing of time the pilot is allowed to fly the aircraft, and he goes through very much the same procedure as he did on the Moth at the E.F.T.S. The instructor corrects his faults, makes him do numerous circuits of the aerodrome, landing and taking off until he has completely mastered the feel of the new aircraft and is thoroughly proficient.

As soon as a pilot goes over to high-speed aircraft he makes the acquaintance of the mysterious symbol “g”, which stands for the acceleration due to gravity. When flattening out after a dive, or making a short radius turn he is conscious of the feeling of being pressed hard into his seat. The faster he goes, the greater the force, and when it is explained to him that a fighter pilot may have to withstand retardations of as much as five or six “g”, he realizes why he had to undergo such a thorough medical examination before being accepted.

These great forces to which the pilot is subjected naturally place a considerable physical strain upon him, and he may experience the phenomena of “blackout” and “redout”. Both of these are brought about by centrifugal forces induced by rapid changes of direction at high speed. In the case of the former, if the pilot makes a very tight turn, or flattens out rapidly after a dive, the blood tends to be forced from his head, particularly from behind the eyes, for a split second, during which time he cannot see.

Redding out is caused in exactly the same way, but it occurs only when the pilot changes direction with his head on the outside of the turn, as in the case of an inverted loop or the start of a dive. This, instead of drawing the blood away from the head as in the case of blackout, causes it to rush to the head, and it may cause slight haemorrhage of the blood vessels behind the eyes which accounts for the red vision.

FLYING IN CLOSE FORMATION. Formation flying is one of the most difficult things the pilot has to learn. It requires great concentration, and for that reason the early periods of instruction are short. The Hurricanes seen above are in close formation, which is normally used for drill purposes. Other formations are often adopted when aircraft are flying together cm active operations against the enemy.

To the new pilot blacking out and redding out may sound somewhat alarming, but they are not as bad as they sound. Pilots vary considerably in their resistance to these forces.

It is not long before the pilot is thoroughly at home with the advanced trainer and is throwing it about in the air, making it do just what he wants it to, supremely confident in his new-found prowess. He practises turning and aerobatics, paying particular attention to spins and how to get out of them. He is now starting to learn advanced aerobatics, which form an essential part of the training of a fighter pilot. Not only may many of the aerobatics he learns be of use to him in actual combat, but also they are excellent training in handling the aircraft and they give the pilot a feeling of confidence. Amongst other manoeuvres he learns how to loop, roll, half roll off the top of a loop and do stall turns. He is also told how to do the tail glide and falling leaf, but these are merely fancy manoeuvres used for display purposes. Pilots are told what these manoeuvres are and are told not to do them.

Types of Formations

When he is complete master of his machine the pilot learns to fly in formation. This, at first, is extremely difficult and requires considerable concentration, so his early periods of instruction are of short duration.

Various types of formations are used in the R.A.F. They have the object of enabling groups of aircraft to fly together in an orderly manner and most of them are designed so that each aircraft

can give fire support to the one in front. The V is perhaps the commonest, and in this the aircraft each have a number. The leader flies at the apex, and the other aircraft are numbered alternately backwards on each side of the leader, even numbers being on his right and odd numbers on his left.

Formation flying in the R.A.F. has been brought to an exceedingly fine art, and an elaborate drill has been evolved. Formations may be either open or close, but it is usual, for drill purposes at any rate, to fly in close formation. This is valuable training in distance gauging and undoubtedly accounts for the wonderfully precise way in which formations of the R.A.F. keep together and move or change direction as one. In wartime, of course, more open formations may be

necessary in order to reduce the danger from concentrations of A.A. Fire.

HURRICANES IN V-FORMATION. In V-formation the leader takes station at the apex. Each machine has a number, even ones being on leader’s right and odd ones on his left. The following aircraft keep station by dressing with the opposite number. Formations may take off as such or be formed in the air.

In formation flying the leader sets the pace. Those that follow take up their place behind him on each arm of the V and keep station by dressing with the opposite number. The pilots fly on their throttles, slightly adjusting them the whole time — opening up a bit if they see they are falling back, and easing back a little if they get too far ahead. At first it is rather difficult, but after constant practice it becomes second nature.

Formations sometimes take off and land together, or they may be formed when in the air. The smallest formation is the section of two machines, a leader and one aircraft; the next smallest formation is a flight of three machines, a leader and two aircraft. The section is the tactical unit

in battle, and the squadron, which consists of six sections, may fly in sections in line astern in three lines or in flights in V. Aircraft may also fly in line abreast or line astern, or they may adopt the rather more complicated diamond or box formations, according to whatever the circumstances may be.

When flying in sections, if the leader saw an odd enemy aircraft, he would call up a section and detail it to attack. Two aircraft would leave the formation, returning to it again only after having completed or failed in their task. During the whole period of the flight the formation would have scouting planes weaving behind it, that is, crossing from side to side, to prevent surprise attack.

Having completed his advanced training, the fighter pilot to be is now a fully qualified pilot, but he is not yet operational, and to complete his training, he is next posted to an operational training unit or O.T.U. The term “a fully qualified pilot”, only means that he has completed his general training as a pilot, not that he knows all there is to know about flying — if he flew for a hundred years he would still have plenty to learn. Like the sailor, he soon learns that just when he thinks he knows all there is to know, the elements will show him something he had never seen before just to keep

him from becoming over-confident, and like the sailor, he learns in the hard school of experience. A pilot cannot be considered really experienced until he has flown for at least 500 hours. Over-confidence is watched for by instructors even more than inability, because it is more difficult to discern and equally dangerous, if not more so, to the person concerned. If you ever meet a pilot who tells you that “flying is a piece of cake” you can be sure that sooner or later (unless he is lucky enough to have time to change his opinion) that pilot will kill himself. But we must return to our pilot waiting so patiently to go to his O.T.U.

If the young pilot is lucky he will probably have had seven days’ leave on finishing his advanced training, and will arrive at his O.T.U. fresh for still more instruction. On his first day most of the time will be spent finding a room for himself, depositing his baggage, being interviewed by the station commander, station adjutant, and finally the Chief Ground Instructor ( or C.G.I.). He will allocate them to a flight or flights and tell them the general layout of the station.

Rubber Dinghies

Leaving the C.G.I.’s office the members of the course go over to the stores to collect any articles of flying kit they may not possess. Now that they are becoming operational they will have to add several articles to their already ample wardrobe. They will be issued with “Mae West” lifebelts to keep them afloat should they come down in the sea, and a dainty little package, only 15 inches square by 3 inches thick will be added to their parachute packs. This is the self-inflating rubber dinghy that is now part of the standard equipment of British fighter pilots. It is a masterpiece of compression and besides the action boat itself, there are paddles, sea anchors, iron rations and other necessary gear. It will support a weight of 400 lb. and many a pilot has had good reason to be glad of this piece of equipment.

Although the fighter pilot has now received his full equipment and has had thorough instruction in its use, his knowledge as regards his parachute will be theoretical only. Pilots are told how to bale out during their training, but they are not required to do an actual drop. This pleasure is reserved for a later date when, perhaps as a result of enemy action, they will have to “ jump for it”.

Baling out of a high-speed aircraft is no mean feat, for the tremendous pressure of air tends to hold the pilot firmly in his seat. Before he can leave his aircraft, therefore, he must either slow it up or, as is often the case, turn it upside down and fall out. Once clear the pilot must wait a few seconds before pulling the ripcord, otherwise his ’chute might become entangled in the aircraft with fatal results.

To go back to our young pilot; let us call him Sergeant Jones. He now knows that he is a member of Course 22, and that he is to report to Flight Lieutenant Brown, O.C. “A” Flight, at 8.30 next morning. Until then, as it is the first day, his time is his own.

Duly at 08.30 hours Sergeant Jones presents himself for interview with his new flight commander. After a short talk he is told to get into his flying kit and to climb into a Master waiting on the tarmac. Flight Lieutenant Brown soon follows and, settling himself in the second cockpit, tells Jones that he wants to fly with him for half an hour or so. Jones starts up his engine and, having warmed it up and tested his switches, waves his chocks away, taxies into wind and takes off. For the next thirty minutes Jones shows his flight commander how good or bad a pilot he is. We will assume that the O.C. is satisfied with Jones’s progress, for when he lands he is told to go up on his own for an hour or so to get used to the air again after his leave.

In the afternoon his big moment arrives and he is detailed to do an hour’s circuits and landings and local flying in a Spitfire. As Jones has been trained progressively on several types of aircraft, each one slightly faster and more complicated than the last, his switch from trainers to an operational aircraft is not such a violent change as it might have been; nevertheless his first take off in a Spitfire is something of a revelation.

His first few take-offs and landings will be watched from the ground by his flight commander, but never again will he have any one in the back to tell him when he makes a mistake. From now on his operational training follows in a natural sequence; local flying, formation flying, cross countries, aerobatics, and target practice at ground targets and at “drogues”, which are sleeve targets towed behind another aircraft.

TARGET FOR PRACTICE SHOOTING. A great deal of the fighter pilot’s time at his O.T.U., and later in his squadron, is spent in carrying out practice machine gun attacks on sleeve targets, or “drogues” as they are called, similar to that seen above, which is being towed behind a Hawker-Henley target-towing aircraft.

He soon finds out what a magnificent aircraft the Spitfire is and how beautifully it handles; and that except for the fact that everything happens rather more rapidly than it did in a Master, things are not so very difficult, which, after all, is the aim of progressive training. He learns to accustom himself to map reading while covering the ground at a high speed, and also from altitudes of 20,000 feet or more. He is shown why oxygen is necessary at high altitudes, taught how to use his oxygen equipment, and is sent up to practise flying at 30,000 feet. He turns on his oxygen as soon as he has taken off, and begins to climb. Every 5,000 feet he turns the tap of his oxygen regulator to increase his supply as the oxygen in the air decreases; as he climbs up he notices that the air becomes clear and that the sky is a vivid Mediterranean blue; higher still he finds it difficult to do a “tight” turn until he gets used to the “loose” and sloppy feeling of his controls, due to the rarefied air. Jones gets used to flying at this height for twenty minutes or so and starts his descent, not too rapidly, and swallowing every now and then to even out the pressure on his ear drums. When he gets down to about 1,000 feet, he flies around the aerodrome for a few minutes to accustom himself to the nearness of the ground, for if he came down from, say 30,000 feet and landed quickly, he would probably misjudge his height and land badly.

As the days pass Sergeant Jones finds more of his time taken up with formation flying and camera gun practice. The camera gun is a cine-camera mounted in the wing, which is sighted like a normal gun and takes pictures when the firing button is pressed. He has been shown the best methods of attacking aircraft under varying conditions. The astern attack, the beam and quarter attacks, the head-on attack and variations of all four; and the safest method of “breaking away” when the attack is finished. His armament lectures teach him just what deflection shooting means, and how much deflection should be allowed under varying conditions; then he is sent up on camera gun practice.

For camera gun practice, aircraft take off in pairs; first one aircraft will act as target and the other will practise attacks on him. When the attacking pilot has finished his film, he tells his companion that he is ready to act as target and the procedure is reversed.

Sergeant Jones takes off on his first camera gun flight, and quickly finds that he needs all his new-found skill to complete anything faintly resembling the attacks he had been shown; however, by the time he has finished his film he begins to think he has done quite well, and by the time he lands, he feels quite confident that his results will be all they should be.

When he has landed and has “switched off,” the camera gun is unloaded and the spool of film taken to the photography section to be developed. The next day Sergeant Jones is shown his film by the armament instructor. Several exposures show masses of white cloud, or a large expanse of blue sky, but no trace of the target aircraft. Jones begins to think that all is not as it should be, when, on or about the fifteenth exposure he sees a small speck: “I got him there all right”, he says brightening visibly. “You might, if you’d been using a 4.7 and your target had been standing still,” replies his instructor, and shows Jones that he has been opening fire at about 800 yards range instead of 200 to 300, and also that he has been using no deflection, though the target was travelling across his sights at 200 miles per hour. So on through the film the instructor showing his pupil his faults and telling him how to correct them.

When Sergeant Jones finally joins a squadron and goes on an operation he will find another use for his camera gun. It will take pictures when he has an engagement and the roll of film will help the Intelligence Officer to assess whether he completely destroyed his enemy or only “probably” did so. If he brings back film showing an aircraft dramatically breaking up in the air under the impact of his bullets, he may see that film later in the newsreel at his local cinema.

Using Live Ammunition

The first time Jones fires his guns he will be on air-to-ground practice — that is firing from the air at square fabric-covered targets. He is thrilled at the prospect of shooting off- some ammunition and is not quite certain what will happen.

He makes his way to the air firing ranges and sees the target looking about the size of a postage stamp; he sees that it is all clear for him to fire, he gets into position, puts the aircraft into a slight dive towards the target and gets his sights on; when he thinks he is within range, he presses his firing button: nothing happens. Jones pulls out of the dive and looks around the cockpit to see what’s wrong; eventually he finds that his firing button is on “safe”. If you could see him at this moment, his face would be very red. But luckily no one is there to share his embarrassment. He gets into position again, this time making sure his button is on “fire” and starts another dive. Now when he presses the button he hears a dull noise like a piece of calico being ripped, and sees the sand spurt up ten yards to the left of his target. He ceases to fire, pulls out of his dive and goes round again. This time he will probably be a little nearer, and so on, until eventually he gets his bullets all round the target.

We have assumed that Jones’ aircraft is armed with machine guns. If he had cannon, the effect on firing would be different. He would feel the aircraft shaking considerably and hear a succession of sharp heavy bangs while large holes would appear around the target, throwing up clods of earth or lumps of sand high into the air.

Once he has got used to a new type of aircraft, a great deal of a pilot’s time at his O.T.U. and later in his squadron, is spent on carrying out practice attacks on aircraft and air firing on “drogues”. For the reader’s benefit we will now explain why more than one method of attack is necessary, and the factors which decide the use of any particular attack.

The main aim of any attack is to destroy the target aircraft. The secondary aim is to attack from a position, or in such a manner that the target has least chance of retaliating. Obviously therefore the method of attack will depend on many factors: the type and numbers of aircraft to be attacked, the number of fighter aircraft carrying out the attack, the defensive armour and armament of the target, and, not least, whether the attackers have time to chose a favourable position.

To begin with, a fighter pilot must have a detailed knowledge of all the characteristics of any enemy aircraft he is likely to encounter. The easiest method of attacking and hitting an aircraft is to approach from directly behind and on the same level. This gives the fighter pilot a no deflection shot and has been responsible for the introduction of the tail gunner in big bombers. From behind the pilot has a steady sight on his target, can regulate his speed of approach, has plenty of time to decide when to fire, and can keep on firing until the target is shot down or he runs out of ammunition. This method of attack in its simple form can be used against aircraft which have little or no defence against an astern attack, such as single-seat fighters or single aircraft with poor armament and armour. However, single-seat fighters have a mirror mounted on their windscreen to enable them to see behind them to a certain extent; and multi-seater aircraft have someone to tell the pilot of the attacker’s approach and are also very heavily armoured against this form of attack. Therefore in order to attack unseen and in a vulnerable place, the approach under ideal conditions would be from astern and slightly underneath, where the target’s tail plane would obviously hide the attacker from view.

The only other no deflection shot, that is the position from which a pilot can shoot with his target in the middle of his sights, is from “head on”. From all other positions the pilot must aim ahead of his target, the amount varying with the angle of approach and the range.

Large numbers of bombers in close formation present a difficult target to attack from astern owing to the amount or cross fire they can bring to bear on the fighters, who can probably only approach one or two at a time. Under these circumstances the head-on attack is used to break up the bomber formation. The head-on attack is extremely difficult to execute, and as the target is only at the correct range for a very short time, only a short burst can be fired at it.

When two aircraft are approaching each other at a relative speed in the neighbourhood of 600 miles per hour, the time taken to cover 400 yards, which is the range at which the fighter will open fire, is about one and a half seconds, so almost as soon as the fighter pilot has pressed his fire button he has to pull up or turn to avoid colliding head on with the bomber. From this the perfection of timing necessary for a successful head-on attack will be appreciated. A well-executed head-on attack is more effective than any other, bullets striking the bombers in their most vulnerable areas, generally hitting the pilots, and the moral effect by itself is enough to make the most hardened bomber pilot endeavour to get out of the way. And so the formation is broken up and the bombers may then be attacked individually.

HOW THE FIGHTER PILOT SEES HIS FOE. Diagram showing a fighter pilot attacking an enemy bomber. He is taking an almost full deflection shot and is firing well in front of the enemy in order to allow for the speed of the bomber across his sights. A shot of this kind requires great skill on the part of the pilot.

Attacks are also carried out from the beam and above and from the beam and below, and from the various quarters from above and below, according to the positioning of the attacker and the defensive armour or armament of the target. If beam and quarter attacks are to be successful, good shooting is necessary. As far as shooting is concerned, the attack from astern may be compared with a shot at a sitting rabbit, the beam and quarter attacks with difficult cross-shots at flying birds.

From this very brief explanation the reader will be able to realize why, from the newest arrival in a squadron to its most seasoned campaigner, camera gun and air firing practice are important features of their daily round.

The reader will probably have almost forgotten Sergeant Jones at his O.T.U. He is still there. The weather has been as reasonably good as English weather ever can be, and he has been putting in a lot of hours. He can now do all the various attacks, singly and in squadron formation, and he has been getting ever-improving scores on the “drogue”. He has more or less mastered the R/T procedure (radio telephony, R/T for short, is the means by which pilots talk to one another and to the control room. The procedure is the drill for saying what one has to say by the shortest and most intelligible means) and the day has arrived when he has completed his training and is a fully operational pilot. He is called to the chief flying instructor’s office, where the progress he has made is discussed. He learns that he has been posted to No. 900 Fighter Squadron at Upchester. He is given his log book and sees that he has been assessed as an average fighter pilot, with no special flying faults. Then, with a few final words of advice from the C.F.I., he says goodbye, collects his railway warrant and luggage and sets off for his new station. His training school period finished, his operational career, with all its attendant excitements, has begun.

A week has gone by, Sergeant Jones is beginning to settle down to squadron life. His first week has been a probationary period, during which he has been allotted to “A” flight, given a Spitfire of his own, a Mark V, armed with two cannons and four machine guns, and has spent his flying time in getting to know the sector and in becoming accustomed to sector control. The sector is the part of the country which his squadron normally defends, and therefore it is most important that every pilot knows his sector’s landmarks and peculiarities intimately.

He has an R/T call sign which he will get to know as well as his own name, indeed, from now on when he is in the air he will no longer be Sergeant Jones, but Jackdaw 21, or Blue one or two, Red one or two according to the section in which he is flying. Jackdaw will be his squadron call sign and 21 his individual number. We shall see later how the section colour code works.

Seven or eight days after his arrival Jones does his first day at readiness. A squadron always has a certain number of aircraft standing by to take off at a moment’s notice should there be any hostile aircraft for them to intercept, and pilots usually take it in turns to be among those standing by, or “in readiness”.

It is early, and the first light of dawn has not yet appeared, when Jones makes his way to his dispersal hut. The air is full of the noise of aero engines warming up. Reaching the hut he has a few words with his crew to make sure that all is well with his Spitfire, then he puts on his flying clothing and, lighting a cigarette, sits down to wait. Soon another pilot enters the hut. This is Sergeant Smith, Jones’ section leader (fighters are not detailed to intercept singly but in pairs; these pairs are called sections).

The day progresses, the sun is high and the sky partly covered by huge towering cumulus clouds. Sergeant Smith and Jones are lying on the grass near their Spitfires, reading. Suddenly an order from control comes through: “Blue section, scramble base”. This means that blue section must take off as quickly as possible and circle the aerodrome. Sergeant Smith and Jones leap up and have climbed into their Spitfires in a flash. Helmets on, engines started up, parachutes and safety harnesses properly fastened, chocks away, and they are off.

The First Patrol

Over the aerodrome Sergeant Smith calls up control by a code name. We will assume that it is “Money”. He says: “Hallo Money, Jackdaw Blue one calling Money. I am now airborne.” Back comes the reply: “Money calling Jackdaw Blue One. Course 130. Climb to 10,000 feet. Are you receiving me?” Smith answers: “Receiving you loud and clear. Message understood.” Sergeant Smith and Jones set their compasses to 130 degrees, turn on to the course and begin to climb. The altimeter needle moves rapidly round the clock, and in a few minutes they are skimming the tops of the clouds. Control comes through again and Jones gets the thrill of his life: “Money calling Blue one. Money calling Blue one. Bandit approaching you from the west at 10,000 feet, continue on present course. Over to you.” Flight Sergeant Smith replies that he understands the message, and Jones opens out formation slightly so that he can search more easily. Another minute and control comes through again: “Hallo blue one. Bandit now very near you. Over.” Jones, who has been searching hard, so far in vain, is by this time so excited that he can hardly sit still. Suddenly he sees his leader turn slightly and hears his “Tallyho!”, and, “Hallo Blue 2. Bandit is half a mile away to port.” Jones turns sharply and there, half a mile away, streaking along the tops of the clouds, he sees his first Hun, a lean, snub-nosed Junkers 88. Sergeant Smith calls again: “Hallo blue 2, prepare to attack.” At this moment the “88” decides that the Spitfires are too near for comfort, and dives into the cloud. Sergeant Smith follows, and Jones, who in his excitement has not been formating as well as he might have done, finds himself alone. Jones puts the nose of his Spitfire down and screams through the cloud. In ten seconds he comes to a clear patch, and as he emerges a dark shape flashes across his bows 50 yards ahead. Wonder of wonders, it’s the “88”! Jones’ excitement leaves him; now he has a real live Hun at close quarters, he is calm and collected. A violent turn to port, which, at the speed he is travelling at, nearly makes him black out, and he’s on the “88’s” tail. A string of orange-coloured balls leave the “88” and move quite slowly, it seems, in his direction, as they reach his aircraft they flick past his cockpit with the terrific speed of the bullets they are, and a small compartment somewhere in Jones’ brain starts working and registers mild astonishment at the startling phenomenon.

His sights are dead on now, he squeezes his firing button, and several things happen at once. Flashes of light dance about on the “88’s” fuselage and wings, part of the port engine cowling flies off, the orange fairy lights cease, and Jones’ windscreen becomes covered in oil. The “88” is now the size of a house and Jones breaks away to avoid ramming it. As he does so he sees another Spitfire coming down for a quarter attack. The “88’s” port engine is on fire and pouring black smoke as Sergeant Smith disintegrates the pilot’s cockpit with a well-aimed burst. The “88” slowly turns over on to its back and plunges towards the ground leaving a fiery trail behind it, a brilliant flash as it strikes, and another German crew have finished their flying careers.

Sergeant Smith and Jones circle the spot for a few moments, Jones feeling just a little overawed by the episode.

Sergeant Smith calls up control to say that the bandit has been destroyed, and is given a course to steer for base. On landing Jones leaves his Spitfire to be refuelled and re-armed, and makes his report to the intelligence officer.

Smith, an old-stager with twelve confirmed victories “in the bag” gives Jones full credit for the “88,” and, the report finished they make their way towards the mess for a well-earned lunch. Someday someone will probably write a book about Jones and his exploits; meanwhile, having followed his career from his training school to his first Hun, let us leave him to have his lunch in peace.

The role of the fighter pilots is not purely defensive. With the growing strength of the R.A.F. since the Battle of Britain they have more and more gone on the offensive. First they made small sorties from the South Coast out over the English Channel. Then larger sweeps, with as many as a hundred Spitfires taking part, followed. They were designed to tempt the Luftwaffe into the sky, make the German fighters give battle and disclose their strength. They had the added value of being wonderful training for Sergeant Jones and his fellow new pilots from the Operational Training Units. During these sweeps, anything is lawful prey for the pilots. They may be shooting up E-boats or other enemy ships in the Channel one moment and the next swooping low over his aerodromes and raking his aircraft on the ground with cannon and machine gun fire. The technique of destroying railway engines and barges in canals in enemy country has been brought to a fine pitch.

PREPARING FOR AN OFFENSIVE SWEEP. The Spitfire fighters in the above picture are just about to set out on an offensive sweep over enemy territory. On such patrols almost anything is lawful prey for the pilots, who may be shooting up E-boats one minute and attacking enemy aerodromes the next.

These sweeps are not just stunts, however. They are carefully planned and skilfully executed operations designed for purposes of swift reconnaissance and for testing out the state of the enemy’s defences. They are timed with great care, for fighters have a comparatively short range, and should they linger too long over hostile territory they might run out of petrol and fail to return to their base.

The larger sweeps and the attacks on ground targets in Northern France are carried out by Spitfires. The new Typhoons are now taking a hand.

Hurricanes armed with four cannon and two 250 lb. bombs, make a speciality of the shipping attacks. They have been known to sink quite large ships, and even if they fail to sink them, their explosive shells may set the cargo alight. Such attacks require considerable determination on the part of the pilots who have to dive close to their target in face of heavy machine gun fire from the ships themselves in addition to the barrage put up by the flak ships which are usually in attendance.

The use of fighters to carry out low level bombing attacks is a comparatively recent development. Hurricanes and Whirlwinds are used. For such duties the pilots have to undergo a special course of training, but they are all agreed that for real thrills there is nothing to compete with low-altitude bombing with a bit of ground strafing thrown in.

CLOSE-UP OF THE HURRICANE BOMBER. The Hurricane carries two 250-lb. bombs in racks beneath the wings, as shown above. When it has released its load it becomes an ordinary fighter again, and is able, if necessary, to fight its way home. The bombs are fitted with special short duration fuses.

The pilots fly very low on the way to their objective, using every fold in the ground to hide themselves until the final moment of assault. They hop over hedges, dodge telegraph poles, fly under high-tension cables, dodging and swerving to confuse the ground defences. Meanwhile, high above them, there is usually a Spitfire squadron or two just to see that they are not interfered with from above.

Bombing from such low altitudes makes it necessary that the bombs used should be fitted with short duration fuses, for if they were to go off on impact they would certainly blow up the attacking aircraft. For the same reason, if attacks are made by more than one machine at a time they are made in line abreast, not line astern, or the following aircraft would get the full benefit of the bomb that had been dropped by the machine in front.

The aiming of the bombs from such very low altitudes is a comparatively simple matter and requires no elaborate bomb sights. The pilot aims his machine straight at the target and releases his bombs when it appears just a little ahead of the spinner. The bomb, when it leaves the rack, travels almost level, much like a shell, usually hitting the objective on the side and penetrating the outer wall of that objective before exploding.

Fighter losses on sorties of this kind have been surprisingly small, and the tactics employed have presented the enemy with some nice problems of defence. Hurricanes travel too fast and fly too low for ordinary A.A. defence measures to be effective, so the Germans have built anti-aircraft towers about 30 feet high so that they can fire down on the Hurricanes from above.

Besides carrying out home defence duties and offensive sweeps, fighter pilots are frequently called upon to escort bombers on daylight attacks on objectives in enemy territory. These combined sorties are known as “circus” operations, and the fighters, which usually meet the bombers over a prearranged rendezvous take up positions which are calculated to cover the weakest parts of the bomber formation. A full description of a circus operation is given in the chapter “Work of the Bomber Crews”, so there is no need to go into further detail here.

Training Night Fighters

Up to the moment we have considered only the work and training of day fighter pilots, but there is another branch of the fighter fraternity who operate under the cover of darkness and who, because of the special difficulties of their work, have to undergo a very specialized course of training. We refer, of course, to the night fighters.

Their training up to the F.T.S. stage is the same as for day fighter pilots, but from then on the man who has shown a special aptitude for this type of flying, and has been earmarked as a night fighter, is given a special course calculated to fit him for what is, perhaps, the most arduous and difficult form of flying in the Air Force today.

The night fighter must be prepared to readjust his time-table. He turns himself as it were into a night club waiter, going to bed at dawn, and beginning his day’s work when other people are thinking of going to bed. His first meal of the day may be roast beef, Yorkshire and two veg. — an unpalatable breakfast until he has become accustomed to it. This readjustment of one’s time table is largely a matter of personal drill, and it is surprising how quickly one can settle down to the new mode of life.

One of the chief requirements of the night fighter is patience. He must be prepared to fly for many hours in all weathers without even sighting a Hun. When he does find his enemy he must exercise self-restraint and resist the natural desire to rush in and mix it. His job is to stalk the enemy much as a cat stalks a mouse, and when he pounces he must be certain of getting his quarry. If he misses the first time, the odds are that he won’t get another chance, for at night the enemy stands a good chance of escape once he knows he is spotted.

The embryo night fighter really starts to get down to the business of night flying when he reaches his O.T.U. At first he feels somewhat out of his element; he finds that without visual aids to help him he must rely more and more on his instruments, and that his chief worry, once he has become airborne, is the question of landing again safely all in one piece. This thought, at first at any rate, is apt to preclude all others.

The first task of instructors at night O.T.U.’s, therefore, is to make their pupils feel thoroughly at home in the air at night, for the man who is thinking about the probabilities or otherwise of his landing safely is not looking for targets, which in darkness have to be searched for with every available ounce of concentration.

Most night fighting aircraft today are twin-engined, as two engines mean longer endurance. Pilots are selected according to their particular talents, and when competent, start flying with an observer, who will probably go with the pilot to his squadron.

Once the pilot is competent to fly and land his aircraft safely at night he receives instruction in the more advanced aspects of his work. He carries out practice interceptions, firing practice, and R/T procedure. In conjunction with his flying training the pilot receives ground instruction on the theory and practice of his work and spends many hours practising in the Link Trainer.

The night fighter pilot relies to a far greater extent on his instruments than does the pilot who flies by day, and the Link Trainer is of the greatest service in helping him to gain confidence in his instruments.

Much of the pilot’s work at his O.T.U. is similar to, but more elementary than the work he will do with his squadron. Why he has to learn what he does will be clearer when we consider in more detail the operational side of night fighting.

Let us now follow the night fighter pilot to his operational squadron where, anxious though he is to start shooting in earnest, he has first to undergo a further short period of training to polish up his technique.

At night, owing to the limitations on seeing aircraft, a far more exact control is necessary from the ground to bring the pilot within visual distance of his enemy, so the pilot’s first days — or rather nights — are taken up practising in conjunction with the ground control. Instructions are passed to the pilot by R/T (radio telephony) and a set procedure is laid down which has to be thoroughly assimilated. R/T is, as it were a string, one end of which is tied to the ground control station and the other to the aircraft. Upon this connexion the pilot relies for all information concerning the whereabouts of the enemy. Without it he would be quite unable to perform his task.

A patrol at night does not merely involve taking off, completing the allotted time in the air and then landing. There are numerous preparations that have to be made before setting out. The aircraft themselves are tested during the day to make sure that everything is in order.

Then, before he goes on patrol the pilot has to make himself thoroughly familiar with the various recognition signals and lights that are used at night. Sometimes the R/T breaks down, and if the pilot does not know where he is he has at least to know what to do to make certain that he gets back to his own base or some other aerodrome. These preparations after practice become more or less automatic, but to the new pilot they are apt to be confusing and make him feel that he is overburdened with details. All the details, however, are vitally important and careful training and preparations are necessary if the pilot is not to go flying in a confused state of mind. This would be most undesirable, for the night fighter pilot, even more than the day fighter, must have every faculty keyed up to its most efficient pitch.

Let us go with a night fighter pilot on a typical night flight and see how he performs his duty. We will assume that he has completed a satisfactory day test and is sitting in a hut on the aerodrome ready to take off. He will be wearing dark goggles in order to adapt his eyes to the dark, for it takes about an hour before human eyesight becomes thoroughly accustomed to seeing at night, and he will have most of his flying clothing on so that he can take off quickly. Some of the squadron’s aircraft are already in the air, and it will soon be his turn to take off. As the time for his patrol draws near he puts on the rest of his flying clothing — his parachute, helmet, goggles and “Mae West” — and strolls out to his aircraft. The mechanics strap him in, and he starts up, tests his engines, and taxies gently across the darkened aerodrome to the take-off point. Here he waits until he gets the O.K. from the aerodrome control officer telling him that he may take off. Opening up his engines he gathers speed and is soon airborne. The faint light of the aerodrome flare path goes out, and he and his observer are alone in a world of darkness.

Once in the air the pilot relies entirely on R/T for his directions, and soon the voice of the controller comes through his earphones giving him the course he is to steer. He changes course slightly and flies on. Again comes the voice from below, this time telling him to increase height to 15,000 feet. He pulls the stick back gently and watches the needle of the altimeter. At the prescribed height he throttles down slightly, eases the stick forward, and carries on. For a long time he receives no instructions and then, just as he is giving up hope, comes the news he has been hoping for. The controller’s voice informs him that a bandit has been plotted and gives him a course and height correction.

Pilot and observer are now straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of the enemy. The darkness seems impenetrable. Another slight alteration of course from control comes through the R/T, and this time the controller tells the pilot that the bandit is very near him. At that moment the aircraft enters a patch of thin cloud, and as it emerges on the other side a black shadow some hundred yards ahead vanishes into another cloud patch slightly to starboard. The game of cat and mouse has begun in real earnest.

Sighting the Enemy

Altering course slightly the pilot steers for the cloud that has given the raider temporary shelter. He knows that the sky is fairly clear and that once clear of this patch he stands a good chance of finding the enemy again. He is planning to attack from behind and below, from which position he will be invisible to the enemy, so he eases the stick forward and gathers speed in a shallow dive. Suddenly he is in clear air again and there, about six or seven hundred yards ahead he can see the dark outline of the bandit. His calculations have been good, for he has manoeuvred into an excellent position. The enemy is blissfully unaware of his presence, and unless he suddenly changes course, or spots his pursuer, he should be a real sitting shot.

Gradually the distance separating the aircraft lessens. Now he is well within range, but our pilot is going to make sure of his quarry so he holds on for a bit. Nearer and nearer he gets to his prey, holding his fire until there is no possibility of a miss. He gets the target well in the sights. Immediately he presses the gun button and four vicious flashes leap forth. At first nothing seems to happen, then a dull glow appears in the fuselage of the aircraft in front. He gives him one more burst just to make sure, and in a moment the sky is lighted up. The bandit goes into a shallow dive, smoke pouring from its tail. The dive gets steeper — he is obviously out of control. Our pilot follows him for a bit and then, satisfied that he has finished him off, circles slowly waiting for him to crash. It seems an age before the bandit reaches the ground, but all of a sudden, far away below, there is a violent burst of flame as the enemy strikes the earth. The pilot now calls up his base and reports “bandit destroyed”. In return he is given the course to steer for home. Soon he is back again over the aerodrome, which he circles while he is waiting for permission to land. Below him he can see the faint twinkle of the flare-path lights, and, putting his nose down and lowering his flaps he glides in across the aerodrome in order to make a perfect landing.

He taxies his aircraft off the flare-path and hands it over to the maintenance crew. No damage has been done to his machine, so he has nothing to report. Both he and his observer stroll over to the operations block for the interrogation. They are looking forward to it for once. They have good news and are eager to tell the intelligence officer of their success.

A “BEAU” GOES ON PATROL. The Bristol Beaufighter, with its overwhelming fire power, is the terror of enemy airmen over Britain. A short burst from its cannon and machine guns is sufficient to disintegrate the enemy and cause it to crash, often before the crew have had time to take to their parachutes. Above a “Beau” night fighter is seen just about to take off on a night patrol

Night fighting is not always as easy as it sounds from the above description, and things do not always go so smoothly. In winter, flying conditions are generally rather unpleasant. There may be plenty of cloud which makes it difficult to locate the enemy. Again, having sighted the enemy, our pilot might in turn be detected and violent evasive action on the part of the enemy might enable him to escape. In addition, there is always the chance, and quite a big chance, that the enemy might start shooting back, so our pilots cannot, and do not, expect to emerge from such combats unscathed. German bombers nowadays are being more heavily armed against attack from astern, and although the odds are usually in favour of the attacker, there are times when the enemy gets his shot in first.

There is another class of work carried out by night fighters which makes a strong appeal to the more venturesome pilots. That is paying a visit to enemy bomber aerodromes and waiting for their prey to return. The operation is known as “Intruder”. In operations of this kind the pilot, who knows pretty accurately the time when the raiders will be returning to their base, goes direct to the enemy aerodrome, where he flies about in the neighbourhood until he spots a raider coming in to land. The usual procedure is to get on the enemy’s tail and glide in behind him. The flare-path on the aerodrome will warn him of the enemy’s approach, even if he does not spot him beforehand. Then, just as the enemy is about to land, he presses the button and “gives him the works”. More often than not the enemy pilot is confused at the moment when he is concentrating on landing his aircraft with the result that a crash follows. The fighter pilot may then shoot up some of the aerodrome buildings as he streaks low over the ground on his way home.

German night fighter pilots, too, have tried these tactics, but with the extremely efficient system of radiolocation used in Britain, they are usually located and brought to book before they have been in the neighbourhood of the aerodromes for long.

Some of the aircraft used for night fighting have been much in the public eye since they have been released off the secret list. The Beaufighter twin-engined aircraft is probably one of the better-known types, and it is certainly the most deadly. It is one of the most heavily armed aeroplanes in the world, carrying four cannon and six machine guns. The effect, when a well-aimed burst hits the target, is amazing. The pilot is more likely to suffer damage from flying pieces of Hun than from the return fire of the Hun’s guns. The “Beau” carries a pilot and an observer who also loads the cannon. It is capable of more than three hundred and thirty miles per hour, and can stay airborne for many hours on end.

The Havoc is another type of twin-engined night fighter. Originally built in America as a bomber and known in its bomber form as the Boston, the Havoc is a very fast and manoeuvrable aeroplane armed with a number of machine guns. The tricycle undercarriage makes it very suitable for night landing.

Single-engined aircraft used for night fighting include the Hurricane with four cannon or twelve machine guns, and the Spitfire. Both these aircraft are continuing to do excellent work.

When pilots come off patrol they have one duty to perform, which often is irksome, but nevertheless of great importance — the results of the patrol have to be reported to the intelligence officer so that the damage the enemy has suffered can be estimated.

There are three categories of results. Firstly, aircraft destroyed. To claim this, a pilot, if possible, must have confirmation from an outside source, such as another pilot who saw the aircraft crash, or if the enemy was brought down over England, reports from witnesses on the ground. If, however, no outside confirmation is found, the pilot’s word for having destroyed an aircraft is taken. The Air Force prides itself on the fact that aircraft claimed as destroyed are definitely so.

The second category is, “probably destroyed.” If a pilot sees vital pieces breaking off the aircraft as a result of his fire, or if both engines are set on fire, he still may not see the ultimate end of the combat. The enemy may go into cloud, or at night may disappear by reason of violent evasive tactics. But if, in the opinion of the pilot, the damage inflicted was such as to make it improbable that the enemy would get back to his base, the claim is a probable.

The third category is “damaged”. This claim is made when a pilot sees his shots striking his antagonist, but cannot say definitely that the enemy was destroyed or probably destroyed.

It will be realized from this that when reports in the newspapers state that a certain number of enemy aircraft were destroyed, it is almost certain that a number of others were probably destroyed and damaged. To estimate the damage a careful check is made of all pilots’ claims so that a reasonably true estimate of the enemy’s resources can be made.

There is one other method of using fighters, known as “cata-fighters”, meaning the catapulting of fighters. When the U-boat menace became serious and a large part of the Atlantic could not be patrolled by existing aircraft, the only way to give merchant ships air protection was by providing them with fighters they could carry with them. Hurricanes were accordingly adapted to be shot into the air by means of a catapult which could be fitted on the restricted deck space of a merchant ship and the R.A.F. was asked to provide fighter pilots who would be prepared to

travel across the Atlantic and back, perhaps never having a combat, and who would fly off ready to pancake into the sea if necessary because they were too far out to reach land. The service was placed under the control of the Navy and has been successful. Pilots have many times been shot into the air on the approach of long-range German bombers and have beaten them off to save the ship, being picked up afterwards or managing to reach land quite ready to sail again as soon as their vessel had unloaded, and had turned round for another voyage.

FIGHTER PILOT MAKES HIS REPORT. The fighter pilot seen here has just returned from a patrol and is making his report to an intelligence officer. The results of fighter combats are classified under three headings—aircraft destroyed, aircraft probably destroyed, and aircraft damaged—and it is a point of honour with R.A.F. pilots only to claim aircraft destroyed when they know that they are definitely so. Information obtained from pilots helps the R.A.F. to estimate the enemy’s resources.

You can read more on “American Help for the R.A.F.”, “Evolution of the Fighter” and “Fighter Design” on this website.