Spitfire Pilots WWII-Extraordinary Women

Chapter 1

The London Blitz

The screech of the air-raid sirens wailed throughout the city of London, England in September 1940 during World War 2. The low hum from the engines of the German Luftwaffe (Air Force) night bombers droned in the distance, growing increasingly louder as they advanced nearer to the city. The Luftwaffe was ready to strike London once again for the 22nd consecutive night. The murderous German bombers had already killed countless numbers of harmless women and children during their deadly raids under the cover of darkness. The word blitz from the German word ‘blitzkrieg’ translated into English meant lightning. The Germans hoped to achieve quick control of Britain through constant violent air bombardments by the Luftwaffe.

Hundreds of enemy German aircraft swarmed the sky like giant vultures, as they zeroed in on their prey. For every German Junkers 88 bomber there were at least two German Messerschmitts night fighters as escorts to ward off the British Spitfire fighter planes. The German night fighters fought viciously to protect their Junkers 88, so the bombers could drop their deadly load on the innocent civilians of London.

A British Spitfire battling the German Messerschmitt

The Luftwaffe soon discovered that the British Spitfire pilots did not back down, they were a force to be reckoned with. The constant barrage from the British Anti-Aircraft guns (ACK-ACK) along with the fearsome ‘dog-fights’ with the British Spitfires of the Royal Air Force (RAF) made certain that many of the German warplanes did not return for another encounter. The larger, more resilient British Hawker Hurricanes attacked the Junkers 88 bombers vehemently, while the faster more agile Spitfires intensely engaged the Messerschmitts during the endless battles in the skies over Britain.

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German Junkers 88 Bomber and the British Hawker Hurricane

When the brutal bombing of Britain began in June 1940, the Luftwaffe concentrated on bombing the British munitions factories, communication networks, Radar Towers, and the Royal Air Force Airfields such as Station Biggin Hill in Bromley near London. Hitler, the Nazi leader of Germany, later changed tactics attacking only at night as the Luftwaffe had lost too many bombers during the attacks in the daylight hours. Thousands of vulnerable civilians in London became the prime targets during these nighttime aerial raids.

The British anti-aircraft gunners had a difficult time targeting the bombers in the shadows of darkness with only the aid of the massive searchlights to pinpoint the German aircraft. They were able to lock-in on many of the German dive-bombers in the blackness of the nighttime skies, inflicting enough damage to send them off course away from the city. The RAF Spitfire fighter pilots found it equally as challenging, but they were determined to destroy the Messerschmitt fighter planes in the black sky. They fought gallantly, to protect England and their loved ones. Failure was not an option!

The blacked out city of London would soon illuminate with the terrifying incendiary bombs cascading and exploding on homes and buildings causing more death and destruction to the people of London. It was Hitler’s way of attempting to weaken the morale of the British people, forcing their surrender to Nazi Germany. The city of London was his main objective for the last month, but it would take more than the insane evil actions of Hitler with his German Luftwaffe to break the spirit of the British people.

The Royal Air Force took to the skies once again to attack the attackers of the approaching enemy aircraft. The Nazis were unyielding with their never-ending aerial raids each night, but the RAF pilots along with the anti-aircraft gunners boldly faced up to the task.

Tonight, thousands of civilians, mostly women and children would take refuge once again, in the many air-raid shelters throughout the city of London as the battle of the skies over Britain raged on.

The air-raid sirens shrieked in warning once again, as Sarah Randal and her mother, Mary, hurried anxiously along the deserted street towards the underground transit station located a few blocks from where they lived. The Londoners used the underground transit station, known as the ‘Tube’, as a bomb shelter during the constant attacks from the German Luftwaffe. The two women ran down the stairs entering the safety of the transit station where hundreds of other women, children, as well as few older men, who were unfit for combat duty, had already gathered.

The Tube

They sat on a bench as they nodded greetings to the familiar faces of women they had met in the transit station every night; most of them were from the surrounding neighborhoods. They rested their large handbags, which held their gas masks, on the seat beside them. A drop-down flap on the side of the handbag easily opened up to remove the gas mask if needed; it was stored inside the false bottom of the bag when not in use.

Sarah held the book she was reading on her lap as she gazed around the platform, while her mother knitted away feverishly in an attempt to calm her nerves. At least it was a bit quieter underground, the constant gunfire of the fighter planes and the deafening sounds of the enemy bombs exploding, along with the barrage of gunfire from the anti-aircraft guns seemed slightly muted.

Sarah noticed an absence of many young children of school age in the shelter that night. The government must have followed through with their plans to arrange the evacuation of the youngsters to the rural countryside, where they would be away from the heavy concentration of bombing in the city. She could tell by the sad expressions on the faces of some mothers that they missed their children terribly, but at the same time, they felt that their young ones would be safer outside of London during these merciless attacks each night. Sarah had read the posters scattered around their neighborhood suggesting that parents evacuate school-aged children from the city. It must be frightening for the children to be away from their mothers at a time like this, thought Sarah.

WWII Poster

Suddenly, they heard a huge explosion that shook the ceiling of the station with such force that it caused years of dust and dirt to fall like a heavy rainstorm on the frightened citizens. Mary instinctively crabbed Sarah’s arm and they huddled together with their heads down as they tried to shield themselves from the falling debris. Mothers hugged their frightened crying babies close to them; these small children were too young to send to the country for safety.

Everyone covered their mouths with handkerchiefs as they coughed, choking as their eyes watered, burning from the grunge that filled the air. When the dust finally settled, the flasks of tea came out of bags and pockets; they all had a drink to sooth their irritated throats.

A circle of older men, a group of veterans from the first war, some missing a limb, stared up at the ceiling as though they expected it to come crashing down at any moment. One of them said, Blimy that was a close one! They all nodded in agreement.

The veterans had a drink from their flasks as they continued their card game. Sarah had a feeling that it was something a little stronger than tea in their flasks, but who could blame them she thought. They took an active part in a war twenty-five years ago, now bombs were dropping on them once again. A moment later, the veterans let out a cheer as they heard the anti-aircraft guns burst into action with a loud barrage of gunfire. Some of the veterans, gunners in a field artillery battery during the Great War of 1914-1918, remembered the sound of the guns they fired at the same enemy, the Germans, during that war.

The anti-aircraft guns, positioned near the estuary of the Thames River greeted the enemy raiders with a torrent of gunfire as the German Junkers 88 night bombers followed the Thames River as a navigational route into the city of London. The German bomber crews may have entered the defended area with a great deal of self-confidence, but the white-faced German survivors left in a hurry at a much higher altitude, to avoid the lethal barrage of shells from the British ACK-ACK. Some sputtered off, leaving a trail of billowing smoke behind them. The AA gun emplacements around London had doubled since the Germans began concentrating their attacks on the city. It was evident that the loud torrent of rapid fire from the anti-aircraft Bofors guns sending up a continuous stream of gunfire, succeeded in sending the attackers back in the opposite direction. It gave the Londoners a sense of security whenever they heard the Bofors guns firing at the enemy.

The marshal of the underground station made her rounds asking if anyone needed medical aid, but other than stinging watery eyes with raw scratchy throats, no one was seriously injured. She tried to re-assure the few small children who huddled against their mothers that the underground stations were one of the safest places to be during the air attacks.

Families, who lived in homes a distance away from the underground stations, erected an Anderson Shelter in their gardens at the back of their homes. William Paterson along with Oscar Carl Kerrison designed the shelter, which was made of curved corrugated steel sheets about ten feet by four feet with space for about six people. Approximately fifteen inches of earth covered the roof for added protection; it also served as camouflage blending in with the rest of the garden area. The shelter, named after Sir John Anderson, Lord Privy Seal, was responsible for organizing air-raid safety measures in 1939.

Anderson Shelter

The women, who Mary chatted with on her shopping trips for food rations, said that the Anderson Shelters were cold, damp, often flooding with water. They did not block out the noise of the bombs at all, so during the night raids, sleep was almost impossible, but the family members brought biscuits and flasks of hot tea with them to make it as comfortable as possible. Mary told Sarah that the Anderson Shelter could withstand anything but a direct hit from a bomb. This information made Sarah feel a little more secure in the underground transit station, but at the same time, she hoped that none of the Anderson Shelters would have to withstand the test of a direct hit from an enemy bomb.

Some of the people grew tired of getting up in the middle of the night to take refuge in the outdoor Shelters; they decided to remain in their homes to sleep under a large solid wooden dining table with mattresses piled on top.

Several families, who did not have gardens, installed Morrison Shelters inside their homes, which they slept in during the aerial attacks. The Morrison shelter, named after Mr. Herbert Morrison, Minister of Home Security, was made of heavy steel for protection against the bombing. It was warmer, dryer, but just as noisy; the British simply learned to cope with it.

Morrison Shelter

Other cities were being bombed as well, such as Manchester, where Sarah’s Uncle Charles owned a large factory that produced footwear for the military. Uncle Charles and Aunt Felicity lived on the outskirts of the city of Manchester in the country, a safer area that was away from the air attacks on the large city. Uncle Charles had produced footwear for civilians before the war, but the need of boots for the military took priority when the war began. He made modifications to the equipment in his factory to accommodate the production of military footwear. Many other manufactures had made changes in their production lines for the war effort all over Britain.

A large plant in Manchester, which produced motors for Britain’s Lancaster bombers and Spitfire fighter planes, was a key target of the German aerial offensive as well. Manchester had the Ship Canal with the Manchester docks for transportation that was important for industry and commerce, which was another objective of the German night raiders.

Coventry was a mark also because of the munitions factory, which was constantly a target of the Luftwaffe. They also bombed Birmingham because of the large plant where they built Army Tanks for the military.

Nowhere was safe, they even dropped bombs on Buckingham Palace destroying the Chapel! So far, Big Ben had escaped unscathed, but the Chamber of Commons building did not survive the bombings. St Paul’s Cathedral still stood defiant with pride, as though daring the German bombers to try to knock it down, while other buildings crumbled around it.

It was going to be another long sleepless night for Sarah, her mother and many others, who were too terrified to close their eyes. Some people were so exhausted from the lack of sleep that they finally succumbed to their need of rest. They slept on the blankets they had carried from their homes on the uncomfortable concrete platform of the underground station. Some terrified families arrived early or camped at the station all day. They were lucky enough to have a cot that the government had set up in the stations to make it a little more bearable. There were also portable ‘Loos’ for everyone’s use, installed in the underground stations.

Sarah could not understand how some people could sleep with the trains still running to schedule along with the maintenance crews working in the underground station all night, not to mention the deadly bombs exploding at ground level. The stale air in the Tube she could endure, but the odor from the over-used Loos, was something she could hardly tolerate. She concluded that after so many nights without sleep, some people could probably doze off anywhere.

A group of individuals had started a sing-along, which was in full swing at the other end of the platform; they were trying to make the best of an extremely terrifying time in their lives. Everyone had their own way of dealing with the grave fear that they faced from the German Luftwaffe every night. The marshal of the station would make sure the singing stopped at ten o’clock, so other people could at least attempt to sleep. Some nights, the German Luftwaffe would launch two attacks, just when it sounded like they were leaving; a fresh formation of Junkers 88s filled the skies. Another attack would begin.

Sarah always had plenty of time to think during the terrifying times in the air-raid shelter, while waiting for the Germans to run out of bombs, putting an end to the attacks for the night.

She thought of her brother Edward, who was a Spitfire pilot in the British RAF, stationed at Biggin Hill in Bromley near London. She knew that he was flying in his Spitfire fighter plane right now, engaged in a dogfight combating a German Messerschmitt night fighter or trying to hit a German bomber before it could drop bombs on the helpless people of London. Sarah had always idolized Edward, her older brother. As a young girl, she wanted to do everything Edward could do, even though he was a boy and much stronger than Sarah. Now, as an adult she envied Edward as an RAF Spitfire pilot. How she wished she could be flying in a Spitfire alongside of him at this very moment. Edward was an ‘Ace’ fighter pilot; he had shot down six German planes since the German Luftwaffe aerial offence began. He would always be her hero!

She also thought of her fiancé Frank Peterson, an anti-aircraft gunner, who would be firing at the German Junkers 88 dive bombers from the ground defense with the Bofors anti-aircraft guns. She prayed that they would both be safe in their efforts to defend London from the horrendous attacks.

A picture of her father unexpectedly appeared in her mind, a pilot, who had died in 1918 during one of the final battles of the Great War. She tried to understand the grief that her mother went through then and what she must be going through now as her son was flying a Spitfire fighter plane in this war, not knowing if he would live or die during the intense battles. It was not that long ago that she had lost her husband in another terrible war, now she was re-living the anguish all over again.

Sarah did not remember her father, as she was only four years old and her brother, Edward was six years old when German anti-aircraft guns shot down his bi-plane during an attack, causing his death. Her mother had a picture of him in uniform on her dressing table in her bedroom that Sarah often gazed at, wondering what would have been different in their lives if he had lived.

Edward closely resembled their father in the photograph; he had the same tall slender build, dark brown hair with penetrating brown eyes. He possessed the identical strong square jaw with the same expression of determination on his face that their father displayed in the photo.

She realized without a doubt that Edward would be an excellent pilot; he was a perfectionist at every task or project that he undertook. He had mastered the skill of flying; the other pilots in his squadron had told Sarah, he was an outstanding fighter pilot. Sarah was proud of Edward; she thought it would be exciting to be a Spitfire pilot, but her mother would not like her even thinking about it. Sarah was aware through reading magazine articles that many women nowadays had a pilot’s license; some of them owned their own airplane. They also came from families with money so they could afford such an expensive hobby. Women like Sarah could never afford to take flying lessons; owning an airplane was definitely a far stretch of the imagination. Sarah understood that her mother needed her to help at the shop that she owned; becoming a pilot was just a dream, something to fill in the time while waiting for the bombing to end as she tried to fall asleep.

Mary had dozed off with her head leaning against a pillar, she still held onto her knitting, but her hands had fallen to her lap. Sarah did not attempt to move the knitting, as she did not want to disturb her mother from her much needed rest. Mary was a small frail woman with short auburn hair, streaked with grey; she had dazzling emerald green eyes, which lately had dark circles under them from lack of sleep. Mary always had a worried expression on her face, but who did not these days. Sarah hoped that her mother would get a few hours’ sleep tonight.

Sarah laid her head back against the cold hard wall, making an effort to think of happier times. She thought of her fiancé Frank, who had been her childhood sweetheart. She reminisced about the time they spent together, which felt like ages ago. It was over three weeks since he was home on leave. He received orders to report to the north of England for more training on the 20-millimeter Bofors AA guns. Since the start of the German air attacks on England, leave for the Gunners and Pilots were almost non-existent.

Sarah had gone to the cinema with Frank to see a new Humphrey Bogart film that was playing there; afterwards they had gone for a walk as they talked about what they would like to do after the war was over. They decided to get married of course, and move into their own flat. They looked forward to becoming parents as they both