FlyBy May 24

Edition 81 - May 2024

The Family Tree One Man Alone Does Not Build a FAA

Finding Juey Heritage and Fine Old Machinery

Toxic Leadership Absolute Power Corrupts

2 Editorial

Content

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THIS MONTH

This month’s cover photo is a cracking image of a Walrus being armed by RAAF and RAN Flight personnel, prior to a patrol. It evocatively captures a moment of our early history when the Navy was starting to understand the enormous potential of embedded air assets in the Fleet.

The image was obviously taken during WW2 and it got me thinking about the span of aviation and where we (the majority of our readers) fit into it.

Aviation hasn’t been around all that long, and many of our readers have lived and worked though a huge chunk of it: indeed, our oldest veteran was only 13 years old when Orville and Wilbur took to the skies. Even us (relative) youngsters have lived through some big milestones: pistons to jets, subsonic to super, manned to autonomous (well, nearly); and all of us would have a million stories to tell about our lives in and around aircraft.

The final photograph in this edition of FlyBy tries to capture a segment of that time into one image. I hope that it causes you to stop and think about the part you played in the journey, and how much of it you have been privileged to see.

Talking about history, I reported last month on the dire straits the Fleet Air Arm Museum finds itself in, with no shopfront, no cafe, limited staff and only open three days a week. Its a sad shadow of its former self.

Since then there’s been a few discussions going

THIS MONTH’S COVER PHOTO RAF and RAN members of a ships’ Flight load bombs aboard a Walrus of HMAS Canberra Flight. ✈

on, and I’m pleased to report that Navy has apparently found alternative accommodation for the ex-Sydney artefacts it needed to store. If so, it means the John Downton gallery will remain undisturbed and, hopefully, there will be less pressure to get rid of things in “J” hangar.

No other Arm of the Service has gathered a unique collection of its heritage into a large, modern and world-class facility - and it wasn’t Navy’s doing. The museum stands on Defence land, that is true, but it was the work of countless people and the hard cash of dozens more that made it so. BHP, for example, donated all the steel, and the city of Shoalhaven committed around $500K. There were a myriad of other donors too: individuals and businesses both large and small who put their money where their mouths were because they saw the value of a long-term facility.

Discussions with the Head of the Sea Power Centre continue. Our aim is simple: to get the current custodians of the FAAM to properly resource it with appropriately qualified and trained people, to restore it to a first class tourist destination in the Shoalhaven.

Finally, and on a completely different subject, word is getting out that we need volunteers to help with the running of the Association. If you are in a position and have an interest in giving something back to the veteran community, please don’t be shy. You can contact me here for more information.

Stay safe. mp

REST IN PEACE Since the last edition of “FlyBy” we have been advised that the following have Crossed the Bar: Warren Hamlyn; Al Hickling; Cyril Dakin; Keith “Donc” Doncon; Greg “Cluey” Wise; John Nestor You can find further details by clicking on the image of the candle. ✈

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34 REGULARS

REGULARS

FEATURES

HERITAGE

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Rest In Peace

Letters to the Editor

The Great Race

The Family Tree

We remember those who are no longer with us.

This month’s crop of correspondence from our Readers.

The Editor remembers the great air race of 1969, which was blitzed by the FAA.

It takes many to build the foundations of a Fleet Air Arm.

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FAA Wall of Service Update

Around The Traps

Finding Juey

Bits and Pieces of Odd and Not-so-odd news and gossip.

A feel-good story about a classic old car and its journey from ruins to riches.

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Editorial

Mystery Photo

Toxic Leadership

A few words and thoughts from the Editor of this magazine.

Last month’s Mystery answered, and a new one presented for your puzzlement (p11).

The USS Franklin suffered more losses in a single action than any other US ship. But was it necessary?

The status of orders for Wall of Service Plaques.

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Letters to the Editor

Letters to the Editor

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WILLING VOLUNTEER REQUIRED The Editor of this fine magazine, having done nearly 10 years in the job, is looking to take a sabbatical. We are therefore looking for a replacement Editor.

Thanks for the latest (April ’24) edition of ‘FlyBy’ – as ever a good read.

The letter from David Prest about the reason that HMAS Sydney and HMAS Melbourne both had three-blade propellers on the port side and four blades on the starboard side to ease vibration was especially interesting.

As readers may know there is a four-blade propeller from HMAS Sydney outside the Fleet Air Arm Museum at Nowra, I’ve attached a photo of it, which is a remarkable example of marine engineering.

I also understand that a three-blade propeller from Sydney is located at the Jervis Bay Maritime Museum, but I’m unable to find a photo if it. But it’s fascinating to know that both the port and starboard propellers of our first carrier are to be found in the Shoalhaven district.

Cheers, Kim Dunstan. ✈

Dear Editor, This afternoon I administered to myself a large dose of humble pie after being advised of a very embarrassing "faux pas" I have made in a recent email letter to the editor.

The April Flyby consequently had a letter from me about the Seapower video clip from which I identified the Tracker crew that had previously been a discussion piece.

Unfortunately in the email to the editor I had (RIP) after Jon Jones’ name which was incorrect. I unreservedly apologise to Jon for this error.

Can you please ensure this correction is included in the next Flyby.

O L Nicholls. ✈

ve Ali

➚

Dear Editor

Dear Editor Great story on Jim Ferguson in the last edition of “FlyBy’, and one that I’d not heard before.

I knew Jim when he did some reserve training at NAS and also when he visited Blackhorse when I was with Det1 of the Helicopter Flight Vietnam.

He flew some combat missions with the HFV as CP.I believe he went back to the 135 AHC several more times.

These visits helped get his endorsement on the UH1 which I believe he was buying for his company Rotor Works.

He was a great guy and had many stories to tell in the bar at Blackhorse.

Cheers, Beachball. ✈

!

The Editor’s job entails conceiving and producing “FlyBy” to a high standard, resulting in a PDF file that the Webmaster can then distribute through the website and other third party software. Strong research skills are required, together with an interest in working with veterans and giving something back.

The position doesn’t come well paid (well, nothing actually - that’s where the word ‘volunteer’ comes in), but you will receive lots of help. Currently, we use Affinity Publisher and Affinity Photo as the Desktop Publishing Package, which will be provided free. It runs on both Windows and Apple platforms. Alternatively you can use a program of your choice.

Financial assistance may also be provided to upgrade your computer, if necessary (with conditions). If you live near the current Editor he’ll be happy to provide ‘hands on’ training: otherwise there are some very good on-line training packages that can be made available to you, and he’ll be just an email or phone call away.

The position can be filled from anywhere in Australia as all of the work is done on line, from home.

Please contact the current Editor here if you are interested in finding out more information about the position. ✈

This Is What Museums Are For There are a lot of folk around who think our heritage is just so much junk and museums that preserve it aren’t worth their time or money.

But this photograph captures why that isn’t true.

Look at the wonder on the face of that small boy as his grandad takes him around the FAA museum in Yeovil, and tell me he’s not a potential recruit.

Telling the story of where we come from is vital, and any Navy worth their salt will leverage off our past to preserve our future. ✈

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Image: The Coppermines

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Bluebird Comes Home Hydrogen Helicopter a First Piasecki Aircraft Corp (PiAC) is accelerating its plan to bring a hydrogen-powered helicopter to market by the end of the decade. Development work that has been significantly boosted by support from the U.S. Air Force (USAF) now involves the evolution of a 660-kilowatt test rig for the propulsion system into an iron bird unit that will pave the way for a full-scale prototype the company aims to start flying in 2028.

The PA-890 slow-rotor wing compound helicopter is expected to be able to carry a pilot and up to seven passengers on trips longer than 200 nm. Its projected payload is 1,660 pounds and the maximum takeoff weight is 7,000 pounds.

The PA-890 will be powered by a high-temperature proton exchange membrane fuel cell system being developed by ZeroAvia, which is advancing plans to convert existing airliners seating up to around 80 passengers. As part of work with the USAF, PiAC has already produced a two- seat proof-of-concept demonstrator using an 80-kilowatt propulsion system.

While pressure for air transport to decarbonise may be mounting, Piasecki said the interest his potential customers are showing in hydrogen is mainly driven by economics. “Commercial heli- copter operators have margins of only around 4 percent, so affordable operations is an existential issue for them,” he stated, adding that because the hydrogen fuel cell system has far fewer moving parts than a turbine engine, it will significantly reduce maintenance costs. ✈

Around The World in 50 Hours Florida based air ambulance operator Global Jet Care is making a round the world flight in a 40 year-old LearJet, to mark the 100th anniversary of the very first circumnavigation of the globe.

The aim is to complete the flight in 54 hours and 30 minutes as a fundraiser for the Classic Lear Jet Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to restoring the first production aircraft to flying condition.

The original 1924 round the world flight, carried out by eight US Army Air Service members in two different aircraft, took 175 days, and 74 stops to complete.

LearJet 36 plans for just 11 stops in California, Hawaii, the Marshall Islands, Palau, Singapore, India, Dubai, Egypt, Italy, Portugal and Canada before returning to Wichita. ✈

A few months ago we brought you a feature story on Donald Campbell and his boat, the Bluebird T7: its loss, eventual salvage and its triumphant return to the water.

That story didn’t have a good ending, however, with the owners of Bluebird becoming locked in a bitter dispute with Bill Smith, the man who had salvaged and rebuilt her. Years of negotiation descended into bitter recrimination and, eventually, to legal action.

There was even talk of dividing the hull in two, like Solomon’s baby, which would have brought nothing to either party.

Now it is all over. Bill Smith has agreed to relinquish his claims and the reconditioned hull of Bluebird arrived in her spiritual home of Coniston on 9th March to be placed in the Ruskin Museum for permanent display.

The years of bitterness and dispute were thought by many to have tarnished the memory of Campbell, who was the darling of the British racing community and of the people of Coniston, many of whom remembered the crash that took his life.

Bill Smith has suggested that the Ruskin Museum award him a contract to maintain and run Bluebird, but Campbell’s daughter is not impressed. “When you’ve been so rude and nasty to people,” she remarked, “why would you think they’d want to work with you? You’ve got to be living in cloud cuckoo land.”

So it looks like the historic old boat will become a static display. And that’s just fine. ✈

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[1] Bluebird returns to Coniston almost six decades after she was lost there. [2] the salvaged after section of the boat in 2001. [3] Bluebird being loaded onto a flat-bed for her final journey, and [4] Gina Campbell with her father’s unlucky mascot, Mr Whoppit, which floated to the surface when he crashed. ✈

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Around The Traps

273 Pilots’ Course Graduates

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Kamikaze attack

Four Navy personnel graduated with the award of their Wings at the beginning of April, at RAAF Pearce. They were (L-R) LEUTs Nick Cordy-Hedge, Mitch Lawrence, Rowan Van Der Veen and SBLT Sam Ashley. Also pictured (on the right) is CMDR John “Boots” Siebert, President of our SA Division, who presented the graduates with a FAAAA Wings Pin. This is a small memento of the occasion, indicating the FAAAA’s interest in and solidarity with their career. You can sponsor a pin for a future graduate for a very modest outlay here.

273 Pilots’ Course, of which these graduates were a part, was the largest class for years and interestingly included three posted directly to Triton LAV training and one to CFTS for Qualified Flying Instructor Training.

Navy Graduates will now post to HC723 for EC135 training. (Image: Brett Dowsing). ✈

Better Late Than Never During the Vietnam War a group of 2RAR Diggers volunteered for door gunner duties with the RAN Helicopter Flight Vietnam, where they served with distinction alongside their Fleet Air Arm companions. Their FAA service was eventually recognised by the award of a special certificate, ‘Gunners Wings’, plaques on the FAA Wall of Service, and the right to wear the HFV’s Unit Citation for Gallantry. You can read their story here.

One name was missing, however, as he could not be tracked down. We are pleased to say that Private Pat Halley has now been awarded his Certificate and Wings, and can wear the UCG. It is hoped that his Wall of Service plaque will be forthcoming in due course.

Photo: Private Pat Halley ON 6708577 of 5/6 Platoon 2RAR was presented with his Gunners’ Wings and certificate on 16th April 2024, in recognition of his service with the Helicopter Flight Vietnam in February/ March 1968. Left to Right: Mr Graham Halton, President of the Tasmania TPI (Tasmania); Mr Patrick Halley, and CMDR Tony Everingham (SNO Tasmania).

The presentation took place in Anglesea Barracks Officers’ Mess. ✈

In this photo submitted by Kim Dunstan, sailors on HMAS Australia (II) examine the engine of a ‘Val’ dive bomber the first of six Japanese kamikaze aircraft to crash into the ship.

In October 1944 RAN ships, including Australia joined the U.S. led invasion forces engaged in the Leyte Gulf landings to liberate the Philippines.

Early on the morning of 21 October 1944 a low flying Japanese Aichi D3A ‘Val’ dive bomber approached Australia and Shropshire.

Both ships fired at the aircraft which then struck Australia’s tripod foremast , engulfing the Bridge and Compass Platform with wreckage and burning fuel.

Commodore John Collins, Commander of the Australian Squadron, suffered burns and wounds.

Captain Dechaineux, navigator Commander John Rayment, and Officer of the Watch Lt Morris Jones were mortally wounded.

Following repairs Australia rejoined the fleet taking part in the January 1945 Lingayen Gulf landings. It was here that the ship suffered a further five kamikaze attacks. Although severely damaged, with further deaths and injuries, the ship continued to fight.

Having endured the devastating effect of so many kamikaze attacks and with the closing days of the Pacific War approaching HMAS Australia’s fighting days were over.

Ex FAA Pilot Appointed Special Adviser Former FAA pilot, Chief of Air Force and CDF Air Chief Marshall Mark Binskin has been appointed as Australia’s special adviser on Israel’s response to an air strike that killed seven aid workers in Gaza early in March.

Israel has dismissed two officers over the strike, which it admitted was in breach of the IDF’s rules of engagement, but a comment from Prime Minister Netanyahu that the strike was ‘what happens in war’ has not rested easy with world opinion.

ACM Binskin’s task will be to advise the Australian Government on whether there are further representations to be made to Israel, or actions that could be taken to ensure measures are taken to hold those responsible to account. ✈

10 Around The Traps

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MYSTERY PHOTO Question

Beastly Day A few months ago we ran a story about “The Beast” crane, which served aboard Melbourne, was retired and eventually refurbished by its manufacturer.

David Mottlee visited the finished product in Brisbane recently and was kind enough to send in a couple of photos.

Giant Flying Boat To Be Preserved One of only two surviving Martin JRM Mars Flying Boats is to be returned to the US as a museum exhibit later this year.

Five of the giant aircraft were produced at the tail end of WW2 and did service ferrying cargo to distant bases in the Pacific. During the Korean War they served as flying hospitals, carrying hundreds of wounded troops between Hawaii and California. One was lost in 1950 when an engine fire consumed her, after the crew took to life rafts.

In 1958the four survivors entered fire bombing service in Canada, with the unique ability to scoop 7000 gallons of water from a lake in just 22 seconds. One crashed in 1961 and a third was lost to a Typhoon that damaged it beyond repair.

The remaining two were bought by Coulson aviation as contract fire-bombers, but they were decommissioned due to rising operating costs. One of them, named “Hawaii Mars” is to be donated to the British Colombia Aviation Museum, thereby fulfilling a purchase clause that it was to remain in the Province after retirement.

Pre-internet Chat Room using an early version of Windows...

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Who knows!

Send your answer to the Editor here.

Jim Caldwell sent in this photo of a very handsome Bremont limited edition watch produced for the Australian FAA. Apparently it still keeps good time after all these years.

Anyone else got one?

When the signwriting goes wrong...

Another Anzac Day has come and gone, and we’d like to publish a few photos of peoples’ experiences on the day. They can be from any Division or any individual. All you have to do is send them to the Editor, here. Don’t forget to say who or what the photos are about, with names if you have them.

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The Great Race How the Fleet Air Arm Blitzed the Opposition

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he death of Alan Hickling on 2nd April reminded us of the story of the Great Transatlantic Air Race of 1969, in which he was a competitor. Shortly after the race Al emigrated to Australia to join the RAN, serving as Senior Pilot and then CO of 724 Squadron.

As the 50th anniversary of the first non-stop transatlantic crossing approached (back in the 60s), the British Tabloid The Daily Mail threw down a gauntlet: who could be the fastest to cross the pond in 1969? There was cash money to be won and the rules were simple - the journey had to be made on any of the eight days between 4th to 11th of May, and at least one stage of the journey must involve air travel.

Both the RAF and RN decided to enter, with the former using a Harrier, which had the advantage of being able to take off and land close to the start/end points. The Harrier was subsonic, however, so would lose some time on the way.

The RN was keen to not only enter, but to win, and so it went to the task with a will. No less than three of its Phantom F4-Ks would be used, each one flying on a separate day.

In fact it was not a race against other competitors: rather, it was a race against time: to determine the shortest interval that an individual (“a runner”) would take to travel from the 86th floor of the Empire State Building in New York to the top of the Post Office Tower in London. To level the playing field a bit there were different categories of air travel/aircraft applied, mostly describing the nature of the aircraft to be used - supersonic, subsonic, airliners, multi or single engine, light aircraft etc.

Al Hickling, who until recently was the last surviving pilot from the race, had just resigned from the RN but was not to be released for a year so was an ideal ‘odd job man’. He was involved in both the planning for the complicated event, and as one of the aircrew who participated.

The choice of aircraft was easy: the Fleet Air Arm’s new McDonnell Phantom F4-Ks of 892 Squadron. The aircrew were still working up on the aircraft so it was a race in itself to get them fully operational in time.

The plan shifted through several iterations. To

make use of prevailing winds a decision was made to fly west to east. The initial intent to have five in-flight refuels proved impracticable, however, as it required too much support and had flight safety implications. Careful calculation showed that three refuelings (using Victor tankers out of the UK) would do the job, although at least one leg would have to be at subsonic speed to get the range.

The work-up then commenced, with the team flying out into the Atlantic between forty and fifty thousand feet to meet up with each other. This honed their ability to rendezvous with another aircraft at high speed, and also pinned down the actual fuel consumption figures. Practice got the whole thing down to a fine art, with the tankers’ holding patterns adjusted so they were turning onto the Phantoms’ track at exactly the right moment.

Careful thought was given to how the start and ending of the race would be managed, too. At the destination the initial plan was for the Phantoms’ Observers (who would be the ‘runners’) to be pillion passengers on Royal Marine dispatch

riders’ motor cycles. This was rehearsed a couple of times and the aircrew all agreed they would rather do a night deck landing on a carrier any time.

Fortunately, clever research found a building site right next door to the Post Office tower, with the owners prepared to come aboard. A Wessex V sized platform was built amongst the building rubble. which was just a short run from the Tower.

The starting point offered less choice. The Observer would use the lift in the Empire State Building to reach the ground floor, jump onto the back of a motor cycle for an exciting trip to the Manhattan heliport, and then take a short flight to NAS Floyd Bennett. Their pilot would have the Phantom fired up, ready for an almost immediate departure.

As the event approached, the final aspects of the plan were cemented in place. Each aircraft would follow an identical path on each of three separate days. They would take off from New York on a maximum power climb to 33,000 feet for a 550 knot cruise to Nantucket Island. There, they would

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accelerate to 1100 mph at 45,000 feet for the first supersonic leg to just south of Nova Scotia.

The second supersonic leg took them to south of Newfoundland where, having topped up again, the Phantoms would settle at 39,000 feet for a 650knot cruise using a great circle route to a map reference in the Atlantic for the final refuel. This would be the longest and most boring of the sectors, and one relying on Dead Reckoning navigation as none of the navigation aids of the time were effective that far offshore.

To assist, the Royal Navy positioned HMS Nubian in the locality, who used her surveillance radar to guide the respective aircraft and assist in altitude changes in the busy North Atlantic airline routes.

Favourable weather determined the first aircraft’s ‘go’ date to be 4th May and, accordingly, the first runner clocked out from the top of the Empire State at 0800 sharp. Unfortunately he slipped up on the marble-floored foyer, losing valuable seconds, and then his motor cycle hit every red light on 33rd street. But he was in the cockpit by 0815 and his aircraft roared down the runway, turned to port and was rapidly lost to sight.

The flight generally went well, although R/Vs were hampered by lack of range information between aircraft, and higher air temperatures than

Historical Interest

expected required slower speeds. The Phantom burst two tyres on landing, but the Observer was whisked away by helicopter and, not long after, was checking in at the top of the Post Office Tower. Five hours thirty! It was going to be hard to beat.

The lesson learned was that the second aircraft needed warmer temperatures in the subsonic leg across the Atlantic, and colder temperatures on the last leg to achieve better true air speeds.

A few days later the weather was deemed suitable and Phantom 2 launched at 0814, with Al Hickling at the controls and his Observer, Hugh Drake, knocking one and a half minutes off the initial start time. After take-off all went well until the first refuel, when the RAF tanker was spotted abeam, heading west at 400 knots whilst the Phantom flew at 1500 knots along a reciprocal track.

Nearly five minutes was lost whilst the hiccup was sorted out.

Navigation in mid-Atlantic was by Dead Reckoning, with some clever improvisation to help. Hugh had glued a black cotton thread between the port and starboard canopy rails and calculated that when the shadow of the thread on the starboard side fell over that on the port, they were at a specific longitude. Later calculations showed this rough-and-ready check was accurate

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Left. Alcock and Brown, the first men to fly across the Atlantic non-stop, have a snack just prior to departure on their epic journey. Above. Fifty years later, a Wessex V whisks the first Observer from his just-landed Phantom on the final air leg of his journey to the Post Office Tower in London. ✈ to about 25 nm, which was enough to give some comfort half way across the Pond.

The second run was very fast, with air time of 4 hours and 53 minutes. The Wessex helicopter made the trip to the GPO Tower in just 11 minutes, making the second team the fastest so far. Another world record beaten!

Meanwhile the third crew was waiting it out whilst the pilot got over a head cold and a weather front blew through the Eastern States. It wasn’t until the very last day of the race that Phantom 3 lifted off from NAS Floyd Bennett, after a very fast sprint from the Observer: two minutes quicker than his predecessor.

It was a dream run: the first refuel went without a hitch and the crew were delighted to see the Victor tanker had been decorated with a two foot high “Fly Navy” logo along the port side. The weather was kind, temperatures were right and the wind favourable - and the Phantom averaged 960 knots (1100 mph) to give an air time of just 4 hours 47 minutes. A speedy Observer and slick helicopter flying gave an overall top-to-top time of 5 hours and 11 minutes. The fastest time yet!

And so the race was won by the Royal Navy: in fact, the first Phantom beat the previous world record, and two and then three successively bettered that.

The bold “Royal Navy” lettering on the sides of the aircraft brought the Fleet Air Arm and its capabilities into the public’s eye - and not just the achievements of the aircrew. Without the maintainers and planning and support teams none of it could have been achieved, so the credit was shared by all.

Sir Leslie Rowan, the head of the Vickers Group, Presented the Vickers’ ‘Alcock and Brown’ trophy and a cheque for £1000 to Lt Cdr Goddard, the Senior Observer of 892 Squadron, and a dinner was held at the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington where other prizes were awarded to the 22 categories of the race.

Al Hickling, as mentioned at the beginning of the article, joined the RAN and served with distinction.

He was the last surviving pilot of the Great Air Race of 1969, and lived to the grand old age of 88. ✈

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Historical Interest

Quirky Facts About The Race The race commemorated the 50th Anniversary of the first non-stop Atlantic Crossing, achieved by Messrs Alcock and Brown in a Vickers Vimy.

They took 16 hours and 27 minutes.

himself, he would have taken his how-tonavigate book along with him.

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A group of about one hundred bowler-hatted businessmen, who reported that during the journey they had collectively negotiated millions of dollars of export orders for British businesses. “We’ve achieved more for British exports in five days than the Government has in five years”, one of them later said. As they were aboard a chartered VC10, its unlikely.

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American transport contractor Ben Garcis who switched to airliners after his light plane crashed early in the flight. He arrived late dressed in a vintage swimming costume and skis screwed onto roller skates on his feet.

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An RN sailor with a parrot in a cage. It’s not known what happened to him or Polly.

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Captain Alan Clark, a polio victim, whose wheelchair was bundled up the stairs to his waiting BOAC airliner by five ex-Grenadier Guard comrades.

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Prince Michael of Kent, also in a VC10, which flew west to east and landed at Wisley. He used a rope to descend from the passenger door to the tarmac and tore his pants as he jumped into a waiting RAF Wessex. It is not known if this hampered his running skills.

The 1969 race embraced a number of different categories. Participants included: •

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Top. The successful teams and the winning aircraft. L-R Hugh Drake, Al Hickling, Peter Goddard, Brian Davies, Paul Waterhouse, Doug Borrowman. Above. Hugh and Al. The latter was already earmarked for transfer to the RAN and was filling in the year. Right. The Wessex V used to transfer the ‘runner’ from Wisley to the building site adjacent to the Post Office Tower. Paul Waterhouse (with the “Daily Mail” vest) sprints the final yards to complete his record breaking journey.

Racing car driver Stirling Moss aboard a chartered Vickers VC-10 jet, paid for by Crosse and Blackwell, famous for its soup products. He also used a speedboat for part of the journey.

The RAF entered a Hawker Siddeley Harrier which flew east to west in 6 hours and 12 minutes. The pilot took a snack lunch of a chicken leg and a bottle of ginger beer, and had to refuel from tankers no less than ten times during the journey. The tankers accompanied him throughout the trip.

The smallest aircraft, a Piper Colt, equipped with ‘emergency rations’ comprising 7 lb of peanut butter, a bottle of brandy, another of champagne and 500 biscuits. It took over 20 hours, but it made it. More comfortable was Sir Billy Butlin, who chartered an HS125 business jet and who relaxed during the 11.5 hour flight.

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a Spitfire (which gave up after an hour or so), and Mary Rand, a habitual record breaker, who flew her Piper Comanche solo and went without sleep for almost two days to do it.

But it was the FAA’s third Phantom that stole the show: with the Observer making it from the top of the Empire State Building to the top of London’s GPO Tower in 5 hours and 11 minutes.

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A Chimpanzee called Tina (star of BrookeBond tea commercials of the time) who travelled to London airport in a Rolls-Royce before being bundled into the hold of a super VC10. On arrival she reportedly dispatched six bananas and four cups of tea before being taken to the Empire State building in a chauffeur driven limo.

Astonishingly, the record was only to stand for a little while. Concorde, which had only flown for the first time two months prior to the Race, was to shave 90 minutes off the record, with up to 128 people aboard.

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Army cadet David Wynne-Davis, who set out from New York in his single and almost suffered frostbite when his cabin heating failed (he was still wearing his running gear).

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Sir Clement Freud, the grandson of Sigmund Freud, piloted his own light aircraft and allegedly never flew again after frightening himself half to death from the experience .

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An American entrant (Mr Neil Stevens) who planned to fly his own aircraft but was prevented by Canadian authorities from doing so. He then took a scheduled flight and later divulged that, had he been allowed to fly

In 1974 a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird flew the Atlantic in under two hours - a time that has not been beaten since. It didn’t qualify for the books, however, as it was only to imaginary ‘gates’ over New York and London, rather than actual take-off and landings. ✈ Click on the image of Tina the Chimp to watch a great video of the air race .

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General Interest

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Image: Julian Shoolheifer

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nyone who has a love of old machinery, especially if it has history, can’t help but be captivated by the story of how it was re-discovered and, perhaps, given a second chance. The finding of “Juey” and what happened to her afterwards is one such tale.

Juey was born British, and was a babyboomer. More specifically, she was the firstborn child of one Maurice Wilks, who was the Technical Director at the Rover Car company.

She was the first production model LandRover, rolling off the factory floor on 29 July 1948, and bearing the number 860001 bolted to her chassis by way of a name.

She was originally destined to be a gift to HRH King George VI, but Rover decided to give him a later model, “after the bugs had been ironed out”. ‘Number One’ therefore remained in Rover’s factory until 1950 when it was registered as JUE477 hence the nickname ‘Juey’- and was listed for sale.

The little vehicle then entered what could be described as a typical working life for a Land Rover (by now Rover had dropped the hyphen between the two words). It was initially bought by Ewen McEwen, Professor of Agricultural Engineering at King’s college. Over the next 20 years it changed hands several times before even-

tually being bought in 1970 by David Fairless, a local miner and farmer in Northumberland. A note in his diary recorded the laconic entry “Bought Land Rover. £15.00.”

cohort of enthusiasts who delighted in owning and restoring early models, and all them had one question: what happened to Number One?

Later examination showed Juey had been worked hard, both on the land and in a mining environment, and eventually mechanical issues rendered her uneconomical. She then suffered the fate of most old farm machinery - that is, pushed into an empty corner of a field and left to rot in the English weather.

They knew she has made a brief appearance at Land Rover’s 50th anniversary bash at Shugborough Hall in 1998, but nothing had been heard of her since. Rumours suggested she was somewhere in north-east England, but even if she’d survived the intervening years, the quest was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

The story might have ended there, with Juey gradually being reduced to a pile of rust as a unwanted and forgotten wreck.

But Land Rovers had spawned a dedicated

In the event the rumours proved correct and in 2017 her wreck was discovered, almost by accident.

20

General Interest

21

Previous Page. “Juey ” revels in her core role after restoration. Extraordinary attention was paid to retaining the original heritage of the vehicle as far as possible. Even the badly rusted chassis was carefully restored.

Left: “Juey ”, the first production Land Rover, as she appeared when first rediscovered almost 50 years after production. The years had been unkind but she was largely complete. Below. Once the owners realised what they had, her station in life went up. Here she is on display for the sealed bid auction that would decide her fate. ✈ By then David Fairless had passed away and his family, now aware of the history of the rusting wreck for the first time, looked around for someone to tell them how much it was worth.

Enter Julian Shoolheifer, an ordinary bloke who had been a Land Rover enthusiast since his early teens, and who had built a respected restoration business.

As a Land Rover specialist with a lifetime of experience, he was invited by the family to view Juey and give his opinion.

Shoolheifer later recalled the moment he was confronted by the wreck. “As a diehard Land Rover fanatic with a lifetime of interest in seeing these things since I was a kid,” he said, “to be standing face to face with JUE was absolutely unbelievable.”

But the years had not been kind. “She’d been ravaged by the elements for almost 50 years,” he remembered. “It was probably in worst condition of any Land Rover I’d ever seen - very nearly broken in half and in an extremely sorry state.”

The owners decided the best way to sell was with a sealed bid auction - a one-shot chance to buy the first Land Rover ever produced.

She was moved to an elegant

T

he story goes that Maurice Wilks, a land owner and the Technical Director at the Rover Company, conceived the idea of a light 4x4 when his brother asked him what he would do when his army surplus Jeep wore out. Using a nearby stick, Wilks scratched out a design in the sand on a Welsh beach.

Construction was shaped by the exigencies of post-war Britain. Steel was rationed, so the chassis was made from off-cuts. Aluminium sheeting, no longer needed for wartime aircraft, was not - so the body panels were fashioned from that. The steering wheel was centre-mounted to cater for both left or righthand drive countries, and the only colour offered was RAF-surplus light green, used for aircraft instrument panels.

Mechanically, it was simple: a 1.6 litre four cylinder Rover engine drove all four wheels through a four speed manual gearbox, and a power take-off allowed farm machinery to be attached.

It was light and cheap, could be maintained in the field, and it hit the market at exactly the right time.

The design was launched in April 1948 at the Amsterdam Motor Show and by the end of the year Rover was exporting their little car to nearly 70 countries.

Over the years, the simple Land Rover slowly evolved into a more elegant and diverse design with a myriad of body shapes. The permanent four-wheel drive was replaced by optional two or four wheel drive, and different engine options were added: up to a 2.6l petrol version.

By 1976 one million Land Rovers had been produced with a huge variety of body variants - but the essence of the very first one was still clearly visible. ✈

22

auction house, a world removed from the muddy field of her dotage, where potential buyers could examine her. The rules were simple: have a look, put your bid in a sealed envelope and the winner takes it all.

We don’t know how much was paid for the successful bid: noting her extraordinary pedigree, probably a substantial figure - but we do know that her new owner was Sir Jim Ratcliffe, a wealthy British industrialist. He had for many years been a fan of the Land Rover Defender and when it ceased production he saw a niche market for a tough off-road replacement. His company now produces the Grenadier, which he describes as ‘a real and pure alternative to the current crop of standardised jelly-mould SUVs’.

Ratcliffe looked around for someone to advise him on how Juey could best be restored, and he contacted Shoolheifer in the first instance. “After the sale,” he (Shoolheifer) recalled, “JUE was stored in my workshop for over a month, which gave me unparalleled opportunity to examine her in great detail. Sir Jim then asked me what I would do if she was mine”.

Over the coming weeks Shoolheifer put together a

Above (Background). Juey ’s chassis was by far the most damaged element of the old vehicle and took the most time to restore. Immediate right: Julian Shoolheifer during the restoration process. Far Right. With over a thousand man-hours behind them on the chassis, the restoration team could then begin to put the rest of the vehicle together. Images: Shoolheifer.

General Interest

proposal setting out options. He felt strongly that the two extremes of doing nothing or doing too much were very unattractive, so he suggested Juey should be restored using every single piece that could be salvaged: a forensic rebuild that would retain the originality of the little car, but would put it back on the road.

Ratcliffe loved the idea and asked Shoolheifer to do the work. “It was a shock,” the restorer said. “It could have been the greatest thing I’d ever done, or equally the worst decision I’d ever made. The consequences of getting it wrong were huge.” But he accepted the job, and gave Ratcliffe a two year ballpark estimation.

Over the next 18 months he and his team stripped Juey down. The brief was straightforward: retain her patina, history and heritage, but bring her back to life.

The task of restoring the chassis was a particular challenge. “Many had already condemned [it] as beyond repair”, Shoolheifer later wrote, “but after a detailed inspection based on decades of experience, we were adamant that not only could it be saved, but that an impressive amount of the original metal would still make up the backbone of the restored vehicle. Four months and over a thousand man hours later, the chassis was ready to form the foundation of JUE 477 once again.”

Identical care was taken restoring other components. The original engine, gearbox and transfer box were stripped and extensively rebuilt in order to provide a reliable drive train, and thousands of ancillaries, components, nuts and bolts were all removed, cleaned, overhauled where necessary and then refitted.

The twisted and torn bodywork was not even washed, and, using ancient and modern techniques and as little heat as possible, was returned to a recognisable form. New parts were only used

23

where there was a risk to safety or where the original could not be saved without question. Juey ’s DNA was retained wherever possible regardless of time or effort required.

The rebuilt Juey made her public debut at the 2020 Hampton Court Concours of Elegance, which brings together 60 of the rarest cars from around the world, where she won First in her class. It was a triumphant return for the plucky little vehicle.

For a while Juey enjoyed time on British roads, but her 75th birthday was coming up and Ratcliffe couldn’t let the opportunity go by.

“Rather than store JUE in a museum to gather dust,” he said, “it should be doing what it was designed to do - which is to take on an epic road trip.”

The outcome was indeed an epic trip: over the Altai Mountains in Mongolia and across the Gobi Desert to the British Embassy in Beijing.

And that’s how in June of 2023 Juey and a posse of four Grenadiers and a cluster of other classic vehicles found themselves at Ulaangom, the capital of Uvs Province in NE Mongolia. Forty five miles behind her was the Russian border, and 1870 miles in front was one of the most grueling drives you can imagine.

One of the participants was Ben Cousins, Chairman of the Royal Automobile Club in the UK. “JUE never

24 General Interest

LAST MONTH’S

MYSTERY PHOTO Answer 25

missed a beat,” he later reported, “until the starter motor failed in the final few days of the journey, and minor things like exhaust brackets fracturing because of the vibrations caused by the surface corrugations”.

Even though it was a case of the tortoise and the hare comparing Juey with some of the other vehicles on the trip (there were three 1929 Bentley 4.5 litre Vanden Plas tourers, for example), Cousins remembered that “…everyone who drove her loved her, and treated her with genuine respect”.

“The whole expedition was a great success,” Cousins wrote. “with a 75 year-old Series 1 built with a very clear purpose in 1948 handing on the flame to its worthy successor in 2023 [the Grenadier], which is also build for purpose.”

That said, Juey is far from done. It makes you wonder what’s in store for her centenary. ✈ Right above: Day 10: Leaving the Granite Monolith in the background. Credit: Revelstoke Films.

Right Lower: Two curious locals and an impressive bird examine Juey .

Acknowledgements and References: With thanks to Julian Shoolheifer, Land Rover.

Land Rover Monthly.

DriveTribe.

Julian Shoolheifer Ltd Website: Restoring JUE 477 ✈

Last month we presented a bit of a quirky Mystery Photo - not so much in the question of the aircraft, which was relatively straightforward, but in the ground party shown in the foreground.

The aircraft was the heavy lifter of the Luftwaffe, the Messerschmitt 323 “Gigant”. It was the largest land-based transport aircraft to fly during the war.

In October of 1940, Junkers and Messerschmitt were given just 14 days to submit a design for a large transport glider. The Junkers proposal was eventually scrapped due to an unacceptable degree of instability and the difficulty in procuring the high-grade timber from which it was constructed.

Messerschmitt’s design was matured to become the Me 321, seeing considerable service on the Eastern front as a transport glider.

When Germany turned its eyes to the invasion of Britain (Operation Sea Lion), it needed a powered heavy transport aircraft to deliver

vehicles and other heavy equipment as part of the initial assault. The Me 321 glider was therefore fitted with four Gnome et Rhone GR14N radial engines. The design was later changed to a six-engine variant, flying for the first time in 1942.

The 6 engine D series (Me232D) carried a crew of five: two pilots, two flight engineers and a radio operator. The flight engineers occupied a small cabin, one in each wing

26 Mystery Photo Answer

27 Have you thought about getting your name put on the FAA Wall of Service?

A Luftwaffe Me 323 being shot down by a Martin B-26 Marauder of 14 Squadron RAF, Northwest African Coastal Air Force near Cap Corse, Corsica (Wikipedia)

It’s a unique way to preserve the record of your Fleet Air Arm time in perpetuity, by means of a bronze plaque mounted on a custom-built wall just outside the FAA museum. The plaque has your name and brief details on it (see background of photo above).

Order No. 53 was sent to the Foundry on 22 April and plaques are expected back by mid May-ish for fixing to the Wall. The following names were on that list, It will take about a month to manufacture.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

between the inboard and centre engines, and their job was to manage engine synchronisation and status: although the pilot could override them on engine and propeller control. Some Me 232s were fitted with guns, for which additional personnel were carried.

Although it was relatively good at lifting, with a maximum payload of 12 tonnes (although Rocket Assisted Take off was required at this weight), the Me232 was painfully slow, with a maximum speed of 120 knots. It was also cumbersome and was therefore an easy target for marauding fighters.

Applications for a Wall of Service Plaque are now open for Order No.54. It’s easy to do and the price is very likely to go up within the next month or two, so get your bid in now to save a bit of money. ✈

On 22 April 1943 a formation of 27 fully laden Me 232s was being escorted across the Sicilian Straits by Bf109s when it was intercepted by seven squadrons of Spitfires and Kittyhawks.

Of the 27 transports, 16 or 17 were shot down with the loss of 3 or 4 allied aircraft.

Not many readers ventured a guess at the identity of the two faces (circled) which was also a question asked of the Mystery Photo. A couple of adventurous souls had a go, with Generalfeldmarschalls Erwin Rommel and Erhard Milch raised as possible answers. Neither were close.

R.J. Cluley LSATA S 113325 Jul 72-Jul 81.

D.R. Hooper WOATA S 133260 Apr 82-Apr 06.

M.A. Sandberg ABATWL S 125208 May 78-May 88.

E.D. Sandberg LCDR(O) O 1024 Apr 50-Sep 90.

A. Clark CAF (A) R35828 Mar 48-Mar 63.

A. Gillam CPO ATWO/ETW S 118699 Jan 76-Jan 96 B. Thompson LSATC S 128255 Mar 80-Jan 93 J.W. Lyall WOSN R 65884 Nov 66-Nov 86 I. Sausverdis CPOATWL R 62399 Jul 63-Jul 92 M.A. Dagg CPOATV S 129644 May 80-May 00 L. Stevens CPOATV 8209580 Feb 02-Feb 24 A.W. Healey LSATWL S 130197 Jan 81-Jan 90 J.A. Konemann LCDR (P) O 120636 Jul 76-Aug 01 A.B. Sinclair LCDR (P) O 108473 Mar 71-Apr 84 D. Mowat L.R.E.M. (A) R 50764 Feb 55-Apr 61 P. Halley PTE 6708577 2RAR HFV 67-68

In fact they were the faces of (L-R) Hauptmann Mark Campbell and Stabshauptmann Geoff Ledger, who had snuck in to the event for nefarious purposes, being that the Mystery Photo was released on April 1st.

We had known that both Mark and Geoff enjoyed long and illustrious careers as aviators, but hadn’t realised their full extent. I can report, however, that both were flattered by the implied rank and the fame of the suggested (wrong) answers.

Generalfeldmarschall Erwin Rommel aka RADM Mark Campbell

There are over 1000 names on the Wall to date and, as far as we know, it is a unique facility unmatched anywhere else in the world. It is a really great way to have your service to Australia recorded.

It is easy to apply for a plaque and the cost is far less than the retail price of a similar plaque elsewhere. And, although it is not a Memorial Wall, you can also do it for a loved one to remember both them and their time in the Navy.

Simply click here for all details, and for the application form. If you have any questions you want to ask about it before committing, email the Editor here.✈

Generalfeldmarschall Erhard Milch aka CDRE Geoff Ledger

The faces of the two Germans behind Stabshuptmann Ledger in the Mystery photo suggest they are suspicious about his presence, perhaps because of his hat. Maybe, one day, he’ll tell us the story. ✈

28 Historical Interest

29

leadership

D

uring my years in HR management in the Royal Australian Navy, I often came across reports of personnel management problems, that, when you scratched the surface, quickly fell into the “eating their young” category. This was a term widely used to describe how (predominantly) officers of senior rank would treat their juniors in such an appalling manner that they felt bullied or traumatised.

It mostly occurred to people under training, but could be anyone. Many of them subsequently

paid off at the first opportunity, which is often when we first heard of their experiences.

Don’t get me wrong: I’ve trained my fair share of junior people and clear guidance and a firm hand are tools of the trade. But I always believed that treating people respectfully reaped a much greater reward than by brutalising them.

worth telling it again as the lessons that can be learned are blindingly obvious, although the USN ignored them at the time. If you choose to listen, you can carry such lessons though life regardless of your station or circumstances.

There are many examples of toxic leadership, but perhaps none more stark than the Commanding Officer of USS Franklin. It’s

By the time the US entered the war the Franklin was still a relatively new ship. She’d been laid down in December of 1942, on the

30 Historical Interest first anniversary of Pearl Harbour, and commissioned just eighteen months later.

Having shaken down off Trinidad she sailed for the Pacific. Her first action was strikes on the Bonin Islands, where her air group destroyed gun installations, airfields and enemy shipping. In July of 1944 she launched strikes against Iwo Jima, Chichi Jima and Haha Jima, hitting ground targets and Japanese vessels in harbour.

Over the following weeks Franklin was in constant action in the Pacific, attacking any targets she could. Her tally grew quickly: cargo ships, enemy aircraft, sea planes and ground fortifications, and she lived a seemingly charmed life.

But in mid September of 1944 her luck ran out: a bomb released by one of three enemy aircraft struck the outboard corner of the aft deck-edge elevator, killing three men and wounding 22. In mid October she shot down a Japanese Betty bomber which then attempted to kamikaze into the ship. It did some damage to the flight deck but slid off the starboard side without inflicting casualties.

At the end of October she was hit again when a large group of enemy bombers approached the fleet. Fighters shot most of them down, but six broke through the combat air patrol into a defensive group of four carriers and about twenty escorting cruisers and destroyers. Shipboard AA fire shot down more kamikazes diving towards the carriers. Three were destroyed, but Franklin’s flight deck was struck by the last. It penetrated through to the gallery deck, killing 56 men and wounding 60.

The fact that Franklin extinguished her fires and recovered aircraft just 76 minutes after the strike is testimony to the professionalism of her crew, which operated as a tight, cohesive team. She returned to the west coast of the USA for repairs, and it was then that Captain Leslie E. Gehres assumed command. Things were about to turn ugly.

How Not To Start Gehres was a ‘mustang’ officer - a term used by the USN for someone who has risen from the ranks. He served in the fleet during the first world war but transferred to aviation in 1926, gaining his wings the following year.

Following the outbreak of WW2 Gehres was appointed commander of Patrol Wing 4, serving in the Aleutians at the rank of Commodore. In a hint

31 of his personality, which had not really been noted during his earlier service, his men had nicknamed him ‘Custer’ for his aggressive air wing tactics and erratic behaviour.

Whilst his character had not escaped the men under his command thus far, it had certainly not rung any alarm bells in the career management agency as he was appointed CO of the Franklin in late1944, taking a step down in rank to do so. It did not take him long to start the process of dismantling the ship’s morale.

At the change of command ceremony, Gehres started his address by abusing the ship’s company. “It was your fault that you didn’t shoot the kamikaze down,” he proclaimed. “You didn’t do your duty; you’re incompetent, lazy and careless. Evidently you don’t know your jobs and I’m going to do my best to shape up this crew!”

The men were stunned. It was only a short time since they had seen over 120 of their shipmates killed or wounded. The new captain’s words cut deeply - so much so that over 300 sailors jumped ship in Bremerton, when Franklin made there for repairs.

Having made good its damage, the unhappy ship returned to the Pacific. By mid March 1945 she was operating off the coast of the Japanese main islands as part of Task Force 58, charged with conducting air strikes against airfields, factories and railways.

In the days leading up to 19 March Task Force 58 had been relentlessly harassed

by Japanese bombers. Franklin had gone to General Quarters a dozen times in six hours and so Captain Gehres, even though the threat level had not diminished, stood men down from action stations to get a hot meal. His ship was just 53 miles off the coast of mainland Japan, the closest a US warship had ever been.

Later examination of the ship’s afteraction and damage reports would show the Captain recorded the skies as clear on the morning of 19 March. But the deck log told otherwise. In the early hours of that morning Franklin had gone to General Quarters a dozen times. At 0654 the ship’s Combat Information Center reported a ‘bogey’ thirty miles off. Two other sightings followed,

approaching rapidly. It was clear that a real threat still existed, even as men were stood down.

At 0708 lookouts reported a ‘Judy’ dive bomber about 12 miles away. It closed the distance in about three minutes and dropped two bombs on the carrier. General Quarters was never sounded.

One of the two struck the flight deck just forward of the island, blowing a 15 square-foot hole in the deck and passing through to the hangar deck where there were 22 aircraft: 16 of which were fuelled. The second detonated two decks down, near the chief petty officers’ quarters.

In an instant, the carrier was enveloped in fire.

The explosions junked aircraft together, trapping crews and maintenance personnel and setting off their ‘Tiny Tim’ rockets with their 500-pound warheads. Ammunition cooked off in the heat and scythed across the deck.

“On the deck”, a Time magazine later reported, “now a roaring furnace, pilots blundered into still whirring propellers, climbed frantically up folded wings. Later, some were found hanging like black, charred monkeys, caught in the overhead structure”.

Many of the 200 men who had been waiting for breakfast in the galley were burned or crushed to death. On the upper deck, others were blown over the side or faced the choice of jumping into the sea or being incinerated. Some tried to hurl live ordnance into the water, only to be blown to pieces or immolated.

The heat melted electric wires, knocked out the ship’s communication network and ruptured fuel lines to spray aviation fuel onto the fires. The entire ship was consumed by smoke, making it almost impossible to breathe or see. The engines stopped and Franklin, listing heavily to starboard, became dead in the water - a sitting duck.

In those first few hours 800 of her crew perished.

The Japanese sent more aircraft to finish her but they were shot down.

At one point the cruiser Santa Fe came alongside to rescue men and deliver supplies, at which point Gehres issued an order that could not have been more vague. He directed the Air Officer to evacuate ‘anyone who would not be needed to save the ship’. A mass exodus to the cruiser ensured as men who defined themselves as nonessential fled. Gehres then stopped the

32 Historical Interest evacuation, and directed about one hundred sailors, some of whom had been blown overboard and then been rescued, to state in writing why they had left the vessel when no order to do so had been given.

Gehres then announced that 215 Franklin crewmembers would be charged with desertion, and insisted that rescue ships treat them as prisoners.

In the meantime, the situation aboard the Franklin was dire. At 0952 the worst blast of the morning occurred when the 5 inch magazine exploded. Commander Steven Jurika, the Navigation Officer who was keeping a log of all that happened aboard, wrote: "The ship felt as though it were a rat being shaken by an angry cat….aircraft engines with propellers attached and debris of all description, including pieces of human bodies, were flung high into the air and descended on the general area like hail on a roof. One engine and prop struck the navigating bridge a glancing blow about three feet from my head, and for a couple of moments I will admit to ducking under the overhang of the masthead light."

Gehres refused to abandon ship. The USS Pittsburgh towed the stricken vessel out of Japanese waters whilst the men on board fought to save her. They managed to light one boiler, which gave them power to the pumps, lighting and movement through the water. They extinguished the fires, righted the list and, later, fired the second boiler. The towline to Pittsburgh was cast off, and the crippled carrier, having made temporary repairs at Ulithi Attol, limped to Pearl Harbor under her own power, where the sight and smell of her horrified the dozens of other ships there.

33 being added later as the ship’s condition improved.

He also ensured no evacuee received a medal, and laid the ground work for courts-marshal against the officers and chiefs who had managed to get aboard the Santa Fe, a direction that navy leadership fortunately ignored.

The war ended before Franklin could be repaired, and she was decommissioned in February 1947 and sold for scrap in 1966. She held the dubious distinction of being the worst damaged ship to survive, and to bear the burden of the highest loss of life on any US warship.

And what of Leslie Gehres? Well, in his case, no bad deed went unrewarded. He was decorated with the Navy Cross, its highest award for martial valour, and reached the rank of rank of Rear Admiral. His final years in Navy were spent as Commanding Officer NAS San Diego.

Later, he entered business and ran for Congress but was not elected. He died in May of 1975, aged 76. ✈ References: The National interest: How Bad Leadership Nearly Doomed the Carrier USS Franklin.

The History Reader. USS Franklin: Attack, Survival and Triumph.

Tuscaloosanews. USS Franklin: The Ship That Wouldn’t Die. Wikipedia. ✈

Even that was without incident. As per Pearl Harbor procedures, a civilian harbour pilot came aboard to navigate the carrier into dock. Gehres refused, saying that he would ‘take her in himself’.

He manoeuvered Franklin too fast and crashed into the dock, but blamed the mooring arrangements for the incident.

Franklin then managed another 12,000 miles to Brooklyn, NY, where the Navy, determined to show that she had not been lost, ordered her to be repaired. There were occasions when shipyard workers broke into sealed compartments only to find more carbonized victims.

Later, Gehres founded the ‘Big Ben 704 Club”, specifically to honour that number of men who remained aboard and to exclude everyone else.

This was despite an investigation which found that only about 400 men had remained, with the rest

✈

✈

O'Callahan, also organised and directed firefighting and rescue parties, and led men below to wet down magazines that threatened to explode. He was subsequently awarded the US Medal of Honor. ✈

13

20

21

1 Collins 2 Anstice 3 Hamilton 4 Farncomb 5 Chifley 6 Gatacre 7 Napier 8 Hall-Thompson 9 Chesterman 10 Hewitt

11 Bruce 12 Busteed 13 Oldham 14 Pearce 15 Dumaresq 16 Cumberlege 17 Sharwood 18 Goble 19 Dallas 20 Longmore

21 Creswell

14

Below. Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Longmore was born in Sydney in 1885 and his Short 160 Folder seaplane in 1914 was the first to drop a live torpedo, marking a significant step in the evolution of air power. It wasn’t without drama: the underpowered aircraft couldn’t airborne on its first attempts and had to be modified somewhat before it could stagger into the air. ✈

36 Feature Story

37 Left. VAT Smith (pictured here as a LCDR), is widely regarded as the father of the FAA as he planned and orchestrated its structure and assets, but, as the old saying goes, he was building it on the shoulders of giants such as fighter ace Stanley Dallas (Below), a Queenslander who joined the Royal Naval Air Service in June of 1915 and was killed in a dogfight just thee years later, having been credited with at least 39 enemy aircraft. ✈

While every Australian who served in naval aviation from 1911 onwards became the foundation upon which our Fleet Air Arm of the 21st century exists, it does not diminish their individual service to highlight those who were most consequential.

This family tree, by its conciseness, inevitably leaves out many who are just as deserving of mention.

Fortunate to survive the early years of World War 2 Lieutenant-Commander VAT Smith DSC was an Air Staff Officer helping support the British Pacific Fleet in 1945. At its peak this fleet operated 750 aircraft and 21 carriers. So successful was VAT in this exhausting role that in July 1945 Vice-Admiral Charles Daniel CBE DSO RN was presciently writing that VAT would be “invaluable to the RAN if and when they decide to start a Fleet Air Arm”. So it

proved from August 1945 as he commenced the initially lonely work of formulating a skeleton first draft of an air plan at the behest of Commander Galrey “Gat” Gatacre DSC* MiD RAN, Assistant Director of Plans in Navy Office. It was Gatacre, navigator of the battleship Rodney when Bismarck was finally cornered, who minuted the Navy Board that “surely the introduction of a fleet air arm can confidently be expected”! Later he was a worthy choice as commissioning captain of Melbourne in 1955.

Within this family tree are many firsts: the first Australian naval aviator, the first RAN observer and pilot, the first chief of navy to advance the cause and the first prime minister to advocate for naval aviation.

Foremost among the firsts is the Manly-born Lieutenant Arthur Longmore RN (later Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Longmore GCB DSO DL RAF). [See p5 of ‘FlyBy’ here for the full story]. In 1911 he became the first Australian-born aviator with his own list of enviable British firsts to follow: the first to take off and land on water, the first to drop a live torpedo, the first to form and command a naval air squadron, even the first to advocate the specialist role of observer and formalise their training. Longmore nurtured the early career’s of SubLieutenant’s Stanley ‘Jimmy’ Goble and Roderick ‘Stan’ Dallas. Before his combat death in 1918 Dallas (26) was a 39 aircraft ace with the DSO and DSC*, while Goble ended the war with 10 victories and a DSO and DSC. Perhaps because of his Royal Naval Air Service beginnings Goble proved sympathetic to the founding of a RAN FAA in the 1920’s despite wearing early RAAF uniform, and his son John had an illustrious RAN FAA career.

Other World War 1 mentions would be Captain John “DQ” Dumaresq CB RN, born in Rose Bay. As captain of Sydney he was relentlessly innovative while serving with the Grand Fleet embarking and launching wheeled fighters in 1917 and 1918, before becoming the first Australian-born officer to command the Australian Fleet in 1919. Midshipmen John Collins arguably became the first RAN aviator when he qualified as a kite balloon observer in 1917 from the battleship Canada. Captain Claude Cumberlege RN, captain of Brisbane in the Indian ocean borrowed Sopwith Baby N1014 from the seaplane carrier Raven II in May

1

[1] A Sopwith Camel aligned on its exceedingly short take-off platform aboard HMAS Sydney. Such operations were the brainchild of Captain John

Dumaresq RN [2] An Australian by birth, he proved to be an officer of great foresight and energy in his pursuit of aviation assets in the Fleet. He was the first to integrate Flights as an element of ships’ capability, and was central to innovations such as the ‘flying off platforms.’ [3] Cyril Sherwood’s Camel being recovered by HMS Sharpshooter after his action against enemy aircraft. [4] RAAF and RAN airman arm Canberra’s Walrus for a bombing run. [5] VAT Smith in a Walrus V which is about to be hoisted back aboard.. The bow wave indicates the degree of ‘way’ the aircraft has, and gives insight into the skill required for the evolution, and the risks involved. ✈

3

5 4

2 1917 and enthusiastically reported back on its usefulness in reconnaissance to the Naval Board in Melbourne. On 1 June 1918 Flight Lieutenant Albert ‘Cyril’ Sharwood launched in his Sopwith Camel from Sydney and successfully intercepted enemy seaplanes before ditching. This was the first ship-launched, airto-air intercept of enemy fixed-wing aircraft and few remember that it was from an RAN warship.

In June 1913, only two years after the Royal Navy started operating aircraft, the First Member of the Australian Naval Board Rear-Admiral Sir William Rooke Creswell KCMG RAN, even then known as the ‘Father of the RAN’, drew up an aviation plan while requesting Admiralty guidance. The board allocated funds in the 1915-16 estimates to purchase four seaplanes but the wider demands of the war meant the plans never bore results. Reflecting moves in the RN in the post-war years RAN aviation volunteers were called for and in 1923 Lieutenant Joseph ‘Joe’ Hewitt joined RAAF Pilot’s Course No. 1. Lieutenant Henry ‘Chesters’ Chesterman commenced a local ad-hoc short observers course at Point Cook that year before joining the RN’s 11th Naval Observers Course in 1926.

Following on from Creswell’s early initiative two chiefs of navy in the 1920’s advanced the cause of naval aviation. It was Rear-Admiral Percival ‘Val’ Hall-Thompson CB CMG RN who published Commonwealth Naval Order 37 of 1925 proclaiming the establishment of a Fleet Air Arm. What followed was three further years of bitter inter-service administrative battles, eventually lost in 1928 when cabinet decided that the RAAF would provide the pilots, aircraft and maintainers to embark, whilst the Navy would appoint and train observers and telegraphist/air gunners. His successor, RearAdmiral William ‘Bill’ Napier CB CMG DSO RN, with the vital backing of a naval-centric Prime Minister Stanley Bruce MC, oversaw the construction of the seaplane carrier Albatross at Cockatoo Island Dockyard, which commissioned in early 1929.

Below. Spot the anomaly! Four Sea Furies keep watch as one of the first assets of the RAN’s Fleet Air Arm, HMAS Sydney (III), traps one of our last fixed wing assets, the Douglas Skyhawk. The fanciful image captures some forty years of the FAA’s history: celebrating the journey from a fledgling unit that was shortly to be tested in war, to an indispensable element of maritime capability.

Over those forty years, and the (almost) forty that have followed since the demise of our fixed wing aircraft, the ethos and fabric of the Fleet Air Arm has been crafted by thousands of men and women who invariably displayed the skills and professionalism required to operate aircraft in that most harsh and unforgiving of environments - and each generation has left a proud legacy which has served as a strong and true foundation for those who followed. ✈

COMING SOON! Graeme Lunn’s extraordinary new book on the life of VAT Smith.

The 1930’s found 101 (Fleet Co-operation) Flight and later 9 Squadron RAAF embarking Seagulls and then catapult launched Walrus amphibians on RAN cruisers. Representative of the many air force pilots who furthered naval aviation in these years was Flying Officer Charles Pearce (later Air Commodore Pearce CBE DFC) who embarked Seagull A9-8 on Canberra in 1935, where the cruiser’s observer was Lieutenant George Oldham (later Acting Rear-Admiral Oldham CBE DSC) and SubLieutenant VAT Smith was working towards his Bridge Watchkeeping Certificate. The catapult launching system owed much to the pioneering work of a little known Australian aviator from Victoria. While still in the RNAS Henry ‘Harry’ Busteed was the third man to make a successful deck landing on the converted battlecruiser Furious in 1917 and, as a Lieutenant-Colonel RAF, was the first to be successfully catapulted on 14 May 1918 in a Fairey N.9 from the experimental catapult ship Slinger. A reactivated Air Commodore Busteed OBE AFC RAF, commanded Balloon Barrage Groups during the Battle of Britain in 1940.

During World War 2, with the central role of naval air in British and American sea power manifestly evident Captain Harold Farncomb DSO MVO RAN, provisionally selected for a battleship command, was instead appointed in 1944 to command the escort carrier Attacker in the

Mediterranean where she won two battle honours.

First Naval Member Admiral Sir Guy Royle KCB CMG RN was pushing roughshod for a post-war Australian Fleet Air Arm, to the extreme annoyance of both the Prime Minister and Secretary of Defence. It took the more emollient approach of his successor, Acting Admiral Sir Louis Hamilton KCB DSO* RN, to successfully advance the cause for a fixed-wing carrier force. This was agreed by Prime Minister Joseph ‘Ben’ Chifley in a five-year Defence Plan announced in June 1947.

After VAT’s singular work on a draft air plan he became the junior in the Aviation Planning Office with three experienced senior RN staff officers led

by Captain Edmund Anstice, a graduate of the RN’s No.1 Naval Pilot’s Course in 1924 who had commanded the escort carriers Striker and Fencer.

It was this office that produced the definitive ‘Naval Aviation – The Naval Plan’ in 1947 agreed to by Chifley. Although classified Secret, time had been pressing so Anstice smuggled VAT’s wife Nanette into Navy Office to help them type up the submission for cabinet.

Rear-Admiral Sir John Collins KBE CB RAN, our intrepid balloonist of 1917, succeeded Hamilton as Chief of Naval Staff and First Naval Member in that momentous year of 1948, immediately declaring that he was “putting the carrier and naval aviation first”! ✈