1940 Portraits of the Few | Battle of Britain | All the Things You Are | Artie Shaw & Helen Forrest

Music: 1939 All the Things You Are | Artie Shaw Orch feat. Helen Forrest
Video: 1940 - 1942 Eric Kennington portraits of RAF Fighter Command | Paul Nash Battle of Britain sketches
1940s playlist: t.ly/CPVz
74 Sq Group Captain A.G. ‘Sailor’ Malan (S Afr), DSO & Bar, DFC & Bar (1910 - 1963)
74 Sq Flight Lt. J.C. Mungo-Park (UK), DFC & Bar (1918 - 1941)
74 Sq Pilot Officer H.M. Stephen (UK), DSO, DFC & Bar (1916 - 2001)
242 Sq Leader D.R.S. Bader (UK), CBE, DSO & Bar, DFC & Bar (1910 - 1982)
242 Sq Flying Officer W.L. ‘Willie’ McKnight (Canada), DFC & Bar (1918 - 1941)
303 Sq (Polish) 'B' Flight Commander A.S. Forbes (UK), OBE, DFC (1912 - 1981)
303 Sq (Polish) W. Kołaczkowski 'A' Flight Commander (Poland), DFC (1908 - 2001)
25 Sq Pilot Officer M. Herrick (NZ), DFC & Bar (1921 - 1944)
249 Sq Flying Officer R.G.A. Barclay (UK), DFC (1919 - 1942)
603 Sq Flight Lt. R.H. Hillary (Aus/UK), (1919 - 1943)
331 Sq (Norwegian) Flight Commander K. Birksted (Denmark), DFC (1915 - 1996)
331 Sq (Norwegian) Sgt. M. Eriksen (Norway), DFM (1922 - 2009)
332 Sq (Norwegian) Captain W. Mohr (Norway), DFC & Bar (1917-2016)
* * *
Richard Hillary, "The Last Enemy" (1941)
"Perhaps the most amusing though painful experience which I had was when I was shot down acting as Arse-end Charlie to a Squadron of Hurricanes. Arse-end Charlie is the man who weaves backwards and forwards above and behind the Squadron to protect them from attack from the rear. There had been the usual dog-fights over the South Coast, and [Hillary's 603rd] Squadron had broken up [formation]. Having only fired one snap burst, I climbed up in search of friendly Spitfires, but found instead a Squadron of Hurricanes flying round the sky at 18,000 feet in sections of stepped-up threes, but with no rear-guard. So I joined on.
I learned within a few seconds the truth of the old warning, 'Beware of the Hun in the Sun.' I was making pleasant little sweeps from side to side, and peering earnestly into my mirror when, from out of the sun and dead astern, bullets started appearing along my port wing. There is an appalling tendency to sit and watch this happen without taking any action, as though mesmerized by a snake; but I managed to pull myself together and go into a spin, at the same time attempting to call up the Hurricanes and warn them, but I found that my
radio had been shot away. At first there appeared to be little damage done and I started to climb up again, but black smoke began pouring out of the engine and there was an unpleasant smell of escaping glycol. I thought I had better get home while I could . . . so I decided that I had better put down in the nearest field before I stalled and spun in.
I chose a cornfield and put the machine down on its belly. Fortunately nothing caught fire, and I had just climbed out and switched off the petrol, when to my amazement I saw an ambulance coming through the gate. [Which picked up Hillary en route to another downed British pilot nearby.]
We were at once surrounded by a bevy of officers and discovered that we had landed practically in the back garden of a Brigade cocktail party. A salvage crew from Lympne took charge of my machine, a doctor took charge of Colin, and the rest took charge of me, handing me double whiskies for the nerves at a laudable rate. I was put up that night by the Brigadier,
who thought I was suffering from a rather severe shock, largely because by dinner-time I was so pie-eyed that I didn't dare open my mouth but answered all his questions with a glassy stare.
The next day I went up to London by train, a somewhat incongruous figure, carrying a helmet and parachute. The prospect of a long and tedious journey by tube to Hornchurch did not appeal to me, so I called up the Air Ministry and demanded a car and a W.A.A.F. I was put on to the good lady in charge of transport, a sergeant, who protested apologetically that she must have the authorization of a Wing Commander. I told her forcibly that at this moment I was considerably more important than any Wing Commander, painted a vivid picture of the complete disorganization of Fighter Command in the event of my not being back at Hornchurch within an hour, and clinched the argument by telling her that my parachute was a military secret which must on no account be seen in a train. By the afternoon I was flying
again."
* * *
Eric Kennington RA (1888 - 1960) was an English sculptor, artist and illustrator, and an official war artist in both World Wars. He produced portraits of the RAF from August 1940 to September 1942 under contract with the War Artists' Advisory Committee. Fifty-two were compiled in a 1942 WAAC book, "Drawing the RAF". (Wikipedia)
Paul Nash (1889 - 1946) was a British surrealist painter and war artist, as well as a photographer, writer and designer of applied art. He painted the Battle of Britain opening landscape and depictions of downed German aircraft also under contract with the WAAC. (Wikipedia)