大象传媒

'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Gwilym Scourfield of the County Heritage Team on behalf of Jimmy Osborne and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

Escorting Mr Churchill and Other Jobs Fit for a Kiwi

I joined the New Zealand Air Force in 1941. I wanted to be a pilot. I had six weeks training on Tigermoths which confirmed I had made the right choice. Flying was wonderful. I have never regretted the decision to fly planes. It has enriched my entire life.

On 17th November I joined two hundred and forty airmen from New Zealand and Australia on the American liner Monterey on their way to Canada. We landed in San Francisco on December 5th and travelled on by rail to Vancouver. By this time, of course, the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbour and the Americans had a wholly different attitude towards the war. The war being globalised by that act of aggression, I was asked if I would like to return to New Zealand to continue my flying. I still remember my reply 鈥�
鈥淲hat would I have to fly in, sir?鈥� We鈥檝e got nothing to fly (and the same applies today). The Kiwis have never been over resourced on aircraft!

Training continued at Dunnville, Ontario. There were sixty-five New Zealanders in our group. We all got our wings, flying Harvards; except one man, who was sadly killed whiled training. It was mid winter in Canada. I had come from Papakura, a temperate part of New Zealand. The climate in Canada was freezing. I just could not believe how cold it could be on the ground 鈥� let alone at 30,000 feet.

I completed military flying training in Llandow and Rhoose, near Barry in Wales. That was a fun time , we learned to fly Spitfires. I was transferred to 165 Squadron in Gravesend in October 1942 and then eventually went to Tangmere in Sussex. It was a very busy time for airmen.

One day I was in a flight of a dozen 165 Squadron Spitfires, escorting Venturas over the Cherbourg area. Six of the group got cut off and lost in the cloud. There was a break in the cloud ahead and I spotted six fighters. Initially I thought they were the Spits that we鈥檇 lost sight of. It was only when I got really close, I realised they were enemy planes. Suddenly, I saw one directly above me. Ripping back the stick 鈥� out of instinct, rather than training, my aircraft shot upwards. He missed me by no more than 20 feet and was soon 1500 feet below me. I suppose fear turned to anger now. First you get a fright, then you get mad! I turned to pursue, giving him a few bursts in at his tail. When I got back I reported having 鈥榙amaged鈥� an enemy Focke Wulfe 190. It was later confirmed that he had been shot down .Unfortunately I was now entirely alone. The rest of 165 were miles away. I informed the Squadron Leader I was on my way back to Tangmere. It was a lonely ride home and England鈥檚 soil felt very good to walk on that day.

165 Squadron was posted to Peterhead in Scotland for a rest. Whilst there, seventeen Dornier 217鈥檚 came over from Norway and bombed Aberdeen . It was decided after the raid by the Dorniers, that one flight of 165 squadron Spitfires should be stationed at Dyce, an airfield near Aberdeen . While at Dyce two aircraft were scrambled for a hostile blip and intercepted a JU 88 German bomber. They closed in to shoot it down, it put its wheels down and shot off white verey lights. The Section leader, Flight Lieutenant Roscoe 鈥� an American, radioed this info back. The message received in response was,
鈥淲e don鈥檛 know him, shoot him down.鈥� The Spitfires repeated the closing in, and received the same response; - wheels down and verey lights.
鈥淚鈥檓 going to try to bring him in,鈥� Roscoe informed Operations.

They did. It landed safely at Dyce, a brand new aeroplane which had aboard all the latest German in-flight airborne radar. It鈥檚 a good job not all the Americans are trigger happy. The intelligence gained from that one aircraft probably contributed to saving many Allied lives.

I was due for a rest but the last thing I wanted was rest. I found another Kiwi with the same mind and we approached the C.O. He was a chap named Seagers ( Known to all as 鈥楪in鈥�!). He referred to us as 鈥楤loody colonials鈥�. There were two English lads posted to go to Malta. They didn鈥檛 want to go and they needed relief so we arranged to change places with them.

Unfortunately we missed the busiest period in Malta, but it was very exciting for all that. It was the nearest I got geographically to my brother during the war. He was serving with the Eighth Army in the desert with Monty.

After the invasion of Sicily our job was to patrol and dive bomb targets in Southern Italy: railways, tanks, gun emplacements and providing close support for the advancing troops. The Spits had a single 500lb bomb strapped to them to add to the fire power. With only one big shot, the trick to get the bomb smack on target was a real flying challenge. At one point during that campaign there was only 25yards between the Germans dug in alongside Forli airfield and the advancing troops.

We moved into Italy and our operations were over Yugoslavia, dive bombing and straffing. There was plenty of flak coming back at us 鈥� 鈥楥umulobofus鈥� we used to call it. It was whilst stationed there that I was asked for by name to report for a mission. That was a trifle unusual. There were plenty of better known airmen whose records as 鈥榓ces鈥� bettered mine. They told me to select my five best pilots and be ready to fly to the other side of Italy the next morning. It was a very early start. We set off at dawn 鈥� about five o鈥檆lock in the morning on 24th July. I still wasn鈥檛 told what the job was about and was highly intrigued by what we might be asked to do. We landed in Sienna. A fellow in a jeep came up and told me that our job was to escort a Dakota to Loreto and Jesi.

It isn鈥檛 that easy using an aircraft like a Spitfire to escort a much slower moving plane like a Dakota. I wanted to know more. The answers to my questions explained all. We were escorting the Prime Minister Winstone Churchill across Italy. It was only about five miles from the front line that we would be flying. We saw the Prime Minister go off with Army Chiefs of Staff and we just hung around and waited for him. It was half past two in the afternoon. None of us had eaten since before take off at five in the morning. The men were getting a bit grouchy. I did what any other leader would do. I kept them busy. Our aircraft were in a terrible state, covered in dust. I was in the same boat as them, so I instructed them to clean up the aircraft whilst we were waiting. It kept us busy and did stave off the craving for food for a while.

When Mr Churchill came out of his meeting there were about 80 or 90 aircraft on that airfield all looking a bit dusty and grubby. He looked across and saw six gleaming Spitfires that stood out clearly from the battle dirty machines all around. I saw him speak to the Brigadier at his side and look across to me. The Brigadier came over and said. 鈥淢r Churchill wants to meet his escort,鈥�. I was amazed that the Commander in Chief was no taller than I (And I鈥檝e been nicknamed 鈥楽hortie鈥� on occasion) I looked him straight in the eyes as he shook my hand and congratulated me and my men on their turnout. I鈥檒l never forget that little twinkle in his eyes when I explained why we had taken time out to bully up the kites. I had to tell him they hadn鈥檛 been too enthusiastic on empty stomachs.
鈥淵es, I can well imagine!鈥� he said, congratulating me again.

On the 31st of December 1944 I finished operations. I was then on the South African Wing, 6 SAAF . The colonel was as big as I am small. We were good friends. I didn鈥檛 want to go on a rest, but he explained the orders had come directly from England and I couldn鈥檛 stay on operations.

Eventually arrangements were made for all the guns and armour to be removed from a Spitfire 16, and I then flew it down to Malta and bought 60dozen bottles of beer and flew back from Malta. The Colonel was waiting for me when I got back to Pisa. He couldn鈥檛 miss the distinctive, stripped down aircraft.
鈥淒o you still want to stay on operations?鈥� he asked. 鈥淐aptain Akerman who had been sent back to South Africa. I鈥檝e been told I can offer you the post of Commanding Officer of No. 3 SAAF (Flying Kittyhawks). I did have a night to think it over, but I had to turn it down. After three years of flying in Spitfires, there was no way I wanted to get up in a Kittyhawk.

I returned to England and joined the Coastal Command Fighter Circus. We travelled around giving 鈥榝ighter affiliation鈥� 鈥� combat training. I had been very lucky and survived the war with wonderful experiences. In October 1945 officialdom caught up with me and I was to be sent back to New Zealand.

So that was it, job done.

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