Groups and Single Decorations for Gallantry 72 Squadron - the Channel Dash


Kingcome was appointed C.O. of 72 Squadron (Spitfires) based at Gravesend in February 1942 and was almost immediately ordered to provide escort cover for 825 Naval Air Squadron’s ill-fated attack on the German Capital ships Gneisenau, Scharnhorst and the cruiser Prinz Eugen as they dashed through the Channel, a mission so secret that not even Fighter Command HQ knew what was happening: ‘Shortly before midday the phone went and summoned us to a state of readiness... No sooner had we arrived than we were called to cockpit standby... There was, it appeared, some as yet undefined surface activity off Dover involving the navy, who were very probably going to need our support... During the next quarter of an hour I must have been summoned four times between cockpit and control tower, each time fastening and unfastening the straps and each time been given a set of different instructions, each set more confusing than the one preceding it. It became obvious there was not a soul, from Fighter Command downwards, who had a clue as to what was afoot in the English Channel. Eventually I emerged from this spin of activity with a set of instructions which at least looked positive and clear cut: 72 Squadron was to take off at once and fly flat out towards Manston. There we would find four other Spitfire squadrons already orbiting the airfield, and these were to form up behind 72.


Kingcome was to take command of this scratch wing of five squadrons, at which point six naval Swordfish of the Fleet Air Arm, based at Manston, would be scrambled. The task of our Wing would be to escort them to the Straits of Dover, where some kind of fracas was in progress between a flotilla of German E-Boats and several of our own MTBs... The Swordfish were to do what they could to break up the EBoat flotilla while the Spitfires provided air cover and, air cover duties permitting, join in the attack... At least my instructions from the control tower at Gravesend seemed clear at last. I sprinted back to my aircraft to clamber into the cockpit and take off before there could be any more changes of plan. We could muster only ten serviceable Spitfires and pilots, and my nine companions formed up behind me as we high-tailed towards Manston. There the six Swordfish were already airborne and orbiting the airfield, but we could see no more Spitfires anywhere in view.


How long the Swordfish had been waiting was impossible to tell, but they were making their impatience obvious. The instant they saw us they straightened up and set course without hanging about for the rest of the escort to show up... the most immediate surprise they gave me was that, instead of flying south towards Dover, as I expected, they turned due east and at zero altitude, headed out across the North Sea, the surface of which was uninviting and threatening beneath a swirling cover of low cloud and rain. Undaunted, I took up station above and behind, deploying the ten aircraft to which the promised five-squadron wing had evidently been reduced... The coast was hardly more than a few minutes behind us before the first attack came from enemy fighters. We managed to thwart them without sustaining casualties. Then, without warning, I found myself gazing at an astonishing sight as it materialised dramatically and magically out of the low cloud and tempestuous rain. I found I was sitting at masthead height above the most magisterial warship you could have imagined... Mentally I began to chalk up points of congratulation to the Royal Navy. At last, it seemed, they had made a dramatic move up-market and got themselves a real ship of battle for the present and future. The contrast between our lumbering patrol of Swordfish, wallowing sluggishly over the waves, and this magnificent vast flying fortress cruelly showed up the contrast between struggling museum relics and a sleek deadly product of the latest technology... In the midst of my reveries the marvellous fighting ship I was circling so admiringly opened up at me with every mighty gun barrel.


I moved deftly away from the turmoil of shrapnel, aggrieved if not astounded. The Royal Navy was known among airmen for having this habit of firing first and asking questions afterwards. Then all at once the gunners on the great warship switched attention to the Swordfish, which were by now driving straight towards her in two ‘vies’ of three in line astern... It was impossible to think she might be German. Surely in that case we would have been briefed; and surely a major enemy warship could never have come so close to the English coast without triggering the nation’s alarm bells long before this... She lowered her big guns and fired salvos into the sea ahead of the approaching Swordfish. As the colossal walls of water and spray rose directly into their paths, I had the impression that one was brought down by the deluge. Somehow the others seemed to survive, however, and then the battleship raised her sights and let fly directly at the Swordfish with a fiery inferno.


The brave ‘Stringbags’ never faltered, but just kept driving steadily on at wave-top height, straight and level as though on a practice run. They made the perfect targets as they held back from firing their missiles before closing to torpedo range. They were flying unswerving to certain destruction, and all we as their escort could do was sit helplessly in the air above them and watch them die. Mercifully our role as inactive spectators came to a dramatic close as, out of the murk and broken cloud, a swarm of German fighters appeared. We had expected nothing less. What we had not expected was that among the Messerschmitt 109s, Germany’s front-line, single-engined, single-seat fighter, there would be a strange new radial engined single-seater never before seen or even mentioned in advance intelligence warnings. As we discovered later, we had made our first contact with the Focke-Wulf 190... Goring’s most deadly answer to the Spitfire, and the air cover had been led by no less a person than Adolf Galland.


Meanwhile there was not a split second free for speculation. We turned in towards the attacking fighters and did our utmost to intercept between them and the vulnerable Swordfish. The battle was was short, sharp and violent, and it probably lasted only a few minutes before the German fighters melted away. Of the Swordfish no trace remained, apart from floating wreckage and one or two life-rafts. There had been six aircraft and eighteen crew. Five survivors were later picked out of the water. I never knew how many of the Swordfish were shot down by the ship’s guns and how many by the attacking aircraft, but I hoped we had at least managed to protect them from the main brunt of the attack from the air. The rest became history... The great ship I had so admired turned out to be the Prinz Eugen, the battle cruiser escorting the twin battleships, Gneisenau and Scharnhorst... Thirteen men had died and six aircraft been lost on a doomed mission... With guns empty, the Spitfires of 72 Squadron made their way back to base, many shot up but none shot down.’ (ibid)


Desert Air Force - 244 Wing - Sicily and Italy


On 15 April 1942, Kingcome damaged a Focke-Wulf 190 during a sweep over Boulogne and he probably destroyed an Me 109 on 28 May. His D.S.O. was awarded later that year after one more confirmed victory. There followed stints at Kenley fighter wing and and the new Fighter Leaders School before he was posted, in May 1943, to join the Desert Air Force in the Middle East ‘As yet I knew very little about the Desert Air Force other than that it was a completely mobile, utterly self-contained tactical air group whose task was to support the Eighth Army, and that it was having a very busy time as Rommel and Montgomery were slogging it out in North Africa. It was a tough, independent, battle-hardened group, experienced in mobile warfare and capable of moving anywhere at a moment’s notice without interruption to its activities. By the time I caught up with D.A.F. it had arrived in Malta and was preparing for the invasion of Sicily and Italy. The D.A.F.’s main role was to provide protection and fighter support for the Eighth Army, and as a consequence we needed to be based as close behind the ground forces as possible, which meant a move of base virtually every time the army advanced or retreated. During my time with 244 I recall eighteen such moves, including the two invasions involving sea crossings, first from Africa into Sicily and then on into Italy.’ (ibid)


Promoted to Group Captain, Kingcome found himself, at the age of 25, leading five hardened Spitfire Squadrons Nos. 92, 145, 601, 417 (Canadian) and 1 (South African). He would lead the Wing through the Sicilian and Italian campaigns, taking part in battles such as Anzio and Monte Cassino and conducting long range operations over the South of France. Sent to Palestine in December 1944 to attend the R.A.F. Staff College in Haifa, he ended the war as Senior Air Staff Officer of No. 205 Bomber Group (Liberators) with which he occasionally flew as a waist gunner over northern Yugoslavia.


Remaining in Italy after the war as CO of No. 324 Wing, he was Mentioned in Despatches (London Gazette 1 January 1946) and returned to England in mid 1946, attending Staff College and working at the Air Ministry. His bachelor lifestyle started to take a toll on his health, however, and after being treated for tuberculosis in 1950 he was invalided from the service in 1954, going into business with a former Battle of Britain comrade and ace, Paddy Barthrop. He died on 14 February 1994.


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