Groups and Single Decorations for Gallantry


The pace was fast. Seconds later he gave a short burst at a turning 109 and registered enough hits to slow it down. Then another, which rolled over into a dive streaming vapour. A third one was just below, the pilot clearly discernable, but while manoeuvring to shoot, an Me. 110 came at him head-on, guns blazing. Hurricane P3166 shuddered under a torrent of point blank cannon fire and broke off into an earthward dive. Inside, Townsend grappled desperately with the controls, the pain from a serious foot wound the least of his worries. With petrol showering his uniform, the prospect of being trapped in a burning cockpit must have been vividly apparent. Assuring himself that a crash landing was out of the question, he flung back the shattered canopy and clambered out at 1,400 feet. Swaying towards the Kent countryside he saw two housemaids in a garden, staring open-mouthed. In a characteristic tone he called out, “I say! Would you mind giving me a hand when I get down?” Townsend was fortunate to avoid some tall oaks and finally came to rest amongst a clump of fir saplings. Having convinced the Home Guard and a policeman of his nationality, everyone adjourned to the Royal Oak, Hawkhurst, for drinks all round. He was eventually waved off by a ‘wonderfully friendly little crowd’. That night a surgeon removed a 20mm. cannon shell from his left foot. As Townsend passed out under the anaesthetic, he could faintly hear the sirens wailing - he was in Croydon General Hospital. Meanwhile, villagers in Hawkhurst had put his parachute on display and raised £3 in as many hours for the Spitfire Fund - not much consolation for a wounded Hurricane pilot!


By 21 September Townsend was walking with the aid of a stick (but less one toe). He returned to the Squadron, and, having flown a few aerobatics in his new Hurricane - and collected sufficient witnesses - persuaded 85’s Medical Officer that he was fit to return to operations. However, for the moment at least, No. 85 had been withdrawn from the battle zone - casualties had been too great. Nonetheless, Townsend and his pilots could reflect on a magnificent fighting record: in the previous month alone, they had claimed 44 enemy aircraft destroyed, 15 probably destroyed and at least 15 more seriously damaged. Townsend was awarded his second D.F.C.


The Blitz


In October 1940, Townsend received a signal from Fighter Command H.Q.: ‘No. 85 Squadron has been selected to specialise in night fighting forthwith’. The Blitz was now in full swing and the authorities were anxious to find a solution to the almost unopposed Luftwaffe night offensive. Hurricanes were hardly suited to this new role but Townsend was hopeful of Air Ministry support, and with the necessary backing and training results might be achieved.


Night in and night out the Squadron spent many gruelling hours groping around the darkened skies of England. It was a trying and dangerous time, and, in the main, unrewarding. There were numerous fatalities from bad weather and emergency landings on blacked- out alien airfields, Townsend nearly joining them after a nasty “prang” in fog during November. Then there were the enemy fighters who strafed their airfield by day and night - Townsend once being pushed to safety by a junior officer.


At length, the Squadron was moved to Gravesend and the very heart of the Luftwaffe’s night offensive, and in early 1941 it moved to Debden, north of London. Days after their arrival, the aerodrome was visited by the King and Queen. Douglas Bader and No. 242 Squadron dropped in for the occasion, but as Townsend would later recall, even royal visits could be rather nerve-racking: ‘ ... The officers and men of our two squadrons were ranged stiffly inside a hangar. Just before the arrival of their majesties, Douglas (whom I had first met during the day fighting) confided in me, “Look, old boy (his standard opening gambit), the one thing I can’t do is stand properly to attention. So if I overbalance, please come to the rescue.” As the royal inspection proceeded I waited nervously for Douglas, tin legs and all, to crash to the ground. Luckily, by parting his feet slightly, he remained upright ...’ (Duel in the Dark, by Peter Townsend, refers).


By the new year Townsend was beginning to get some response for the equipment required to carry out the night fighter role. Nonetheless, it was painfully apparent that the Hurricane would never make a good night fighter. One consolation was the arrival of some De Wilde explosive ammunition and it was probably as a result of this delivery that Townsend gained the Squadron’s first - and last - night victory in Hurricanes, on 25 February 1941:


‘ ... The rest happened quickly. Coming in from their left and slightly above, and still concealed from the searchlights, I held on until the last moment, then pressed the firing button. A short burst - thirty rounds - and it was over. The effect of the De Wilde was terrible; the Dornier’s controls were hit, its incendiaries set on fire. Still held fast by the searchlights, the span of the wing-tips marked by its red and green navigation lights, it spiralled steeply earthward, streaming smoke and sparks, the air gunner adding to the fireworks as he poured tracers wildly into the dark. Then the stricken aircraft reared up steeply, followed by the tenacious searchlights, until as it seemed to be poised motionless at the apex of their beams, there streamed from it three parachutes. I waited for the fourth, but Paul Schmidt’s parachute got entangled in the tail-plane and got torn to shreds. Down went the Dornier again in a steep spiral, to crash with its load of bombs and its navigation lights still burning, near Sudbury in Suffolk ... ’ (Duel in the Dark, by Peter Townsend, refers).


From Hurricanes the Squadron was temporarily re-equipped with Defiants and then finally with the American Douglas DB7, or “Havocs”. So far as Townsend was concerned, the Beaufighter was probably the best aircraft to cope with night fighting, but in April, even with Havocs, everything seemed to come together at once. In fact, on 9 April 1941, the Squadron fought three successful engagements, and Townsend was involved in one of them:


‘ ... I stuck to the enemy’s tail, but during my violent evasive action to dodge his flying bullets, Bailey was floored and George unseated. However, he managed to grab the Vickers gun and pump a few bullets into the Junkers belly as we finally slid below. George - and I can still detect his chuckle - then shouted: “The bloody gun’s jammed!” I now gathered myself for another front-gun attack, and this time approached unobserved to within close range. When I opened fire we all saw a mass of De Wilde strikes and a fair-size explosion in the right engine. Then our stubborn enemy, lurching clumsily to the right, went down in a long, steep dive until he disappeared from both visual and radar contact. We had been trying to kill each other for the last half an hour ...’ (Duel in the Dark, by Peter Townsend, refers).


Townsend and the intrepid George again made contact the following evening, and, after opening fire, the former saw tracer coming from the Junkers, ‘which swung violently to the left and went down in a steep dive, streaming little jets of flames, like red and yellow silk handkerchiefs, until it was lost to my visual and George’s radar view’. One Ju. 88 damaged.


Townsend, who had now completed some 300 operational sorties since the outbreak of the War, was rapidly becoming aware that his physical and nervous resources were running low. Then in mid-April 1941 a signal arrived from the A.O.C. No. 11 Group, Leigh- Mallory, informing him that be was to be “grounded” and sent to Headquarters. Townsend requested a stay of execution and the Air Marshal responded with an extension until June. He also advised him to take things more easily and for once Townsend listened:


‘ ... That half-hour long, inconclusive combat with the Junkers 88 in early April was to me a disturbing sign ... When Leigh-Mallory granted me another two months with the Squadron, I knew I was dead-beat ... when shot down for the second time at the end of August 1940 I was already nearing the end of my tether. Otherwise I should never have rushed headlong into that swarm of Messerschmitts ... Time after time my aircraft had been hit; bullets had holed the wings and fuselage, they had zipped through the propeller past my head, between my legs even. One had exploded in the cockpit, bringing me down in the sea, yet unhurt; another had hit me, downing me once more ... The trouble was that hair-raising experiences accumulated to form stress, a word we ourselves only knew in its aerodynamic context, as applied to our beloved aircraft ...’ (Duel in the Dark, by Peter Townsend, refers).


Luckily, the Squadron’s Medical Officer knew better and Townsend’s combat days were limited. Pride and barbiturates were not enough, although with marked courage and determination, he took his turn in night patrols right up until the end of his time with No. 85, and was subsequently awarded a richly deserved D.S.O. In June 1942 he assumed command of No. 605 Squadron, recently back from the Far East, and later R.A.F. West Malling and the Free French Training Wing. But he never again flew operationally and, in 1944, was appointed to the Royal Household - a position that would ultimately lead to a clandestine and ultimately forlorn affair with the Queen’s only sibling, Princess Margaret.


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