Authors note: Anyone who has read the 453 Squadron Operational Record Book (ORB) might have noticed some discrepancies in the dates during the first two months of this story. This can be explained by the following note from S/L Morello in the ORB and entries before August, while accurate, may not match the timeline listed alongside them.

“It has been considered that the form adopted in compiling this record is capable of giving a better picture of conditions during the early stage, then would be a diary of events from day to day. It is hoped that it may not be found too discursive and insufficiently chronological. In August and the following months it is proposed to arrange this record in chronological form”

Squadron photo taken during the press day
Standing L-R: Richard Ratten, Tony Morello, Olgierd Sobiecki, Ben Nossiter, Len Hansell, Freddy Thornley, John Barrien, Spit Steele, Wilfred Waldron, Rusty Leith, Dick Ford, Unknown, Tadeusz Jankowski
Spitfire L-R: Jim Furlong, Jack Stansfield, Dick Darcy, Bob Clemesha, Hal Parker, Bill De Cosier, Russ Ewins, Tom Swift

“Good old B Flight” photo taken during the press day
‍Top L-R: Len Hansell, Unknown
Middle L-R: Unknown, Russ Ewins, Matt De Cosier, Wesley White, Unknown
Bottom L-R: Jack Stansfield, Jim Ferguson (with Dinley the dog), Dick Darcy‍

The initial forming of 453 Squadron can probably be best described as shaky at best. It wasn’t an organised group of pilots that arrived at an RAF airfield ready to cross the Channel and scrap with the Luftwaffe. It was dribs and drabs of brand new RAAF pilots, fresh out of Operational Training Units (OTUs) slowly arriving at a remote airfield in Scotland.

The first group of the RAAF pilots arrived at RAF Drem on the 11th of June 1942 but not before a few unplanned detours. Freddy Thornley, Gerry Whiteford, Frank McDermott, Russ Ewins and Len Hansell were some of the first pilots to receive their postings to 453 Squadron on June 9th. They had waited out their first operational posting in staff positions at 57 OTU, RAF Harwarden in wales.

The group departed from Harwarden and spent the night in Chester before boarding a train to the “land of heather, glens and brogue”. The trip had them transferring between different lines and bidding farewell to friends who had received postings to other squadrons along the way.

When they reached Edinburgh, they stopped for a quick bite to eat before heading to the eastern train line that would take them to Drem. While the group immediately picked up on a different atmosphere among the locals in Scotland, they didn't quite realise how strong the Scottish accent could be which resulted in them missing the guard calling out their siding at Drem. When they got off at Dunbar, the next stop, they found themselves with 45 minutes to kill before anything could take them to Drem.

What else would a group of young Australians do in a new country and town but pass their time at “yon wee inn”? ("That small pub" for the Australian audience) The gaggle of new pilots didn’t stand a chance of buying a drink, as the locals, many of whom were ex-RFC (Royal Flying Corps) from the First War, eagerly bought rounds for their new visitors from across the world. Eventually, the group boarded their transfer bus to Drem, with the good mood and banter continuing with the curious local passengers on board.

The warm welcome from the locals was soon overshadowed by the bureaucracy of the RAF. The phrase “shocked but not surprised” feels fitting when the group discovered on arriving at RAF Drem that “As anticipated and in strict accordance with the usual Air Ministry organisation, no one knew anything of our arrival nor of 453 Squadron.”

It was common at RAF airfields to have several squadrons based there at once. When the Australians arrived at Drem, they found it also hosting No.410 Night Fighter Squadron RCAF and No.242 Spitfire Squadron RAF. When the CO of 242 Squadron heard there were pilots floating about with no apparent squadron, he quickly nabbed them to make up numbers in his flights.

The group got their first taste of the Spitfire Mk.V, after months of flying Spitfire Mk.I & IIs at 57 OTU. In the words of Len Hansell and in typical Australian fashion, he reckoned that the Mk.Vs were “a bit of all right”.

The history of 242 Squadron was not lost on the group. They were well aware that they were flying in the legendary Douglas Bader's former squadron, which was still immensely proud of their former leader. Sadly, any sense of awe regarding the presence they were in soon faded. The Australians didn't feel at home in 242 Squadron and were unhappy with how they were being treated as the new spare pilots. It soon became clear why the CO was eager to have them on board. While the other pilots in 242 Squadron went out on leave passes, the Australians remained behind, doubled up on readiness duty. There were only so many ways to pass the time on readiness. Pilots were confined to their dispersal areas, wearing flying boots and Mae Wests, ready to leap into action on the off chance a scramble was called for the quiet skies of RAF Drem.

“The atmosphere just stinks in A flight 242 Squadron. I don’t like these dumb, artificial, fleshy faced kind of Englishmen, bits of pains in the neck ... will be mighty glad when 453 squadron gets underway.”

Two other Australians joined in at RAF Drem with apparent postings to 453 Squadron, Dick Ford and Bob Kenyon. However, Bob Kenyon wouldn’t last too long before being posted to other duties. Both of them had previously been posted with 457 Squadrons and were both rumoured to have been kicked out.

The squadron finally had a CO when Squadron leader Francis “Tony” Morello, a British RAF officer, arrived in an Avro Anson on June 18th with another Australian pilot in tow. With piercing black eyes, he was the picture of a typical fighter pilot to the waiting Australians. Despite the good first impressions, the Australians once again felt that they were starting on the back foot upon discovering that their new CO, though very experienced in Hurricanes and Tomahawks, had no experience flying Spitfires. 

Russ Ewins (right) one of the first pilots to be posted to 453 Squadron while at 57 Operational Training Unit‍

Spitfires of 57 Operational Training Unit

Before stepping into the role of CO of 453 Squadron, Tony Morello had fought an intense tour of operations during the Battle of Malta as a flight commander with 249 Squadron. After a stint as the CO of 112 Squadron based in Egypt, he was tour-expired and served out an operational break as a Chief Flying Instructor at No.59 OTU.

Also at 59 OTU was a young Australian Pilot Officer named John Barrien. After completing training, John Barrien was struck down with tonsillitis. Well before the days of antibiotics, he was sent away for a tonsillectomy. Fully recovered, John returned to 59 OTU only to find that the rest of his course had already received their postings. With no new posting, John waited at 59 OTU as a staff pilot.

Staff pilots led formations and advised new pilots during training. This role also involved a lot of routine paperwork, which is how the signal ordering Chief Flying Instructor Morello, to proceed to RAF Drem to form a new RAAF Spitfire squadron had come through John's hands. Seizing the opportunity, John grabbed the signal and rushed to Morello, saying “Me, me, me,” and soon managed to secure his posting to 453 Squadron.

An article from a Queensland newspaper announcing a new Australian Spitfire Squadron being formed in Drem. Source: Trove

Jim Ferguson's logbook entry starting his journey with 453 Squadron

It had been 10 days since the first group of Australians arrived at RAF Drem, and things weren’t good. There was a clear dent in the group's morale as they sat around 242 Squadron drawing the short straw. After airing their gripes to George Hill, a new Canadian Flight Lieutenant who had been posted to 453, Tony Morello decided to get the Australians out of 242 squadron by officially forming 453 squadron on June 22nd with all the available manpower they had.

All nine pilots … and not a single Spitfire between them.

They did what they could under the circumstances. With no Spitfires, they spent the remainder of the afternoon shooting through their monthly allocation of 5000 cartridges on the clay pigeon range and stuck inside the dreaded link trainer.

Excitement wasn’t the only thing in the air the next morning, as the roar of Merlins announced the delivery of the squadron's first aircraft: eight new Spitfire Mk.Vs. Much to the delight of the pilots, they came equipped with the B wings, which replaced the four inboard .303 Browning machine guns of each wing with two Hispano cannons firing a punchy 20mm explosive round. As an indication of the equipment preference that second line squadrons received, there was a sprinkling of De Havilland airscrews with duralumin metal blades among the more common Rotol airscrews with Jablo wooden composite blades.

Unfortunately, the squadron was grounded the next day by the "scotch mist" setting in. The mist was a combination of thick fog with drizzling rain. When it set in it could shut down flying for a number of days. With the ground crews working on the Spitfires, the pilots again split their time between the range and the link trainer.

The link trainer was an early flight simulator that helped teach pilots “blind flying” techniques by purely relying solely on their instruments. With the lid closed, the “aircraft” would move using pneumatics, mimicking real flight. Pilots would listen through earphones to receive instructions from their instructors on courses to follow. Their progress (or lack of), was charted out on a graph by an electronic tracker. This setup allowed the instructor outside to communicate via “radio”, making course corrections when needed, and then review with the pilot their actual flight path vs the instructed one at the conclusion of the exercise.

The link trainer in its closed position rendering the trainee “blind”.
Source: AWM

The instruments and rudimentary controls of the link trainer.
Source: AWM

A trainee about to be closed up in the link trainer by his instructor.
Source: IWM (A 6039)

Course instructors stand by the microphones and plotting desks as trainees are locked into their trainers.
Source: AWM

The scotch mist and the high hills around RAF Drem made perfecting the ZZ Approach (Zero visibility at Zero height) essential. No pilot would want to practise such a challenging procedure in real conditions, but there was always the possibility that a quick-rolling mist could be waiting to greet him on the way back.

If a pilot were to descend into the mist, he would find himself without any visual cues regarding direction, altitude, or orientation. This required the pilot to navigate through the challenging conditions solely using instruments.

The ZZ approach began with the airfield controller guiding a pilot to the airfield at a specified altitude until the aircraft was overhead. The controller then provided an outbound course to follow and a safe altitude to descend to. The aircraft was tracked using direction-finding bearings every 30 seconds to ensure the pilot stayed on course. This heading was maintained until the pilot reached a predetermined distance from the airfield. At that point, the pilot was instructed to execute a “Rate One turn” (3 degrees per second) for a specified duration, which would theoretically align the aircraft with the correct heading for the airfield's downwind runway.

To ensure the aircraft stayed on the correct approach, the controller would continue the direction finding checks and instruct the pilot on their descent rate until the aircraft was on final approach to the runway. The last check before landing involved the controller (hopefully having a long microphone cable) sticking his head out the window to listen for the approaching aircraft. If the aircraft could not be heard, the pilot was told to “open throttle and climb away”. Otherwise, the pilot would be given the “Ok to land ahead” while everyone on the ground held their breath with fingers crossed.

RAF 'ZZ' Controlled Approach Procedure Diagram (From AP3024 Flying Control in the Royal Air Force - 1944)

Source: http://www.island-images.co.uk

Two days later, the squadron took to the skies as the mist finally lifted. With a careful strategy for maintenance, only three of the new Spitfires were flown on the first day. This strategy helped spread out the servicing schedules, ensuring there was never a time when all of the squadron’s aircraft needed to be grounded simultaneously for routine maintenance.

Each flight, the pilots pushed their new aircraft closer to the limit, trying to understand how far they could take the Spitfires and each other. They practised close formation flying, taking turns to lead through climbs, dives, aerobatics and the reduced visibility of flying through clouds.  It was hard work. Pilots found themselves covered in sweat from a mix of summer heat and intense concentration.

On one of the training flights, Len Hansell found himself in close formation with Freddy Thornley, only a few feet apart, when suddenly he was hit with a rush of panic. He couldn’t see. His eyes were blinded as sweat dripped down his forehead. In that brief moment, as he wiped his eyes, Len’s Spitfire crept forward. When he finally cleared his eyes, he saw the yellow blur of his propeller tips spinning menacingly close to the underside of Freddy’s Spitfire.

Len shoved his spade grip forward to avoid disaster. He felt his Spitfire being thrown about by Freddy’s slipstream. The manoeuvre was so violent that his engine temporarily cut out, the negative G’s starving the carburettor of fuel. The sudden drop lifted Len out of his seat and added insult to injury as his head received a solid blow against the Perspex canopy.

The Squadron soon began practising air-to-air firing. Between the 453 and 242 squadrons, they shared the station Lysander to hook up a 20ft canvas target drogue. The pilots' rounds were dipped in different-coloured dyes, which indicated the accuracy (or lack of) of each pilot's gunnery. Being the pilot of the Lizzie (nickname for the Lysander) was considered by some to be the worst job in the air force. They were forced to stooge back and forth between the mouth of the Firth of Forth estuary and St Abbs Head, while pilots practised their shooting skills on a target a few hundred yards behind them. The training pace picked up once equipment was available to tow a drogue behind 453’s own Spitfires, though it’s unlikely that this made the role of the target tug pilot any more popular..

A Lysander moments after deploying the target drogue.
Source: IWM (CH 4876)

An air ministry photo showing a pupil examining his shooting results.
Source: IWM (CH 6461)

LAC Ashely's cartoon testament to 453 squadrons gunnery work

The training continued, the formations were flown tighter and lower and the aerobatics were pushed to more extreme, more violent levels. Each pilot crept closer and closer to the limit when, on the 28th of July, Jim Ferguson found it.

It was a pristine day, no wind with clear, bright, sunny skies. Flying Officer Sobeicki decided to teach Jim something new by showing him the dangers of flying over still water. Sobeicki led the pair out to the entrance of the Firth of Forth estuary. The water was perfectly still, glassy, reflecting a perfect mirror image of the blue sky above.

With strict instructions to fly no lower than himself, Sobeicki led the pair down to the water's surface. Skimming just above the water, Jim Ferguson watched as the horizon (an important visual reference for a pilot when low flying) seemingly disappeared. The water mirrored the sky so perfectly that it was nearly impossible to tell where the water ended and the sky began.

The two roared above the water, heading out to the mouth of the firth before turning south again. As they passed Bass Rock, Sobiecki keyed his RT in alarm, letting out a cry over the airwaves that "Fergie's gone in!" Jim vanished as a large water plume shooting into the sky enveloped him.

Jim’s De Havilland propeller struck the glassy surface of the water. The metal blades dragged heavily through the sea, pulling the nose of the Spitfire downward. Each revolution was one step closer to a blade catching and flipping the Spitfire end over end.

The violence of the action also threw the Spitfire off balance, causing it to roll to the side. The pitot head, which extended a few inches beneath the port wing, disappeared in an instant. Torn off the moment it touched the water. If the wing dipped any further, it would almost certainly suffer the same fate.

All of this occurred in a fraction of a second. A lifetime of fast reflexes, hand-eye coordination and some bloody good luck saved Jim that day. In that split second before disaster, he pulled back on the stick, emerging from the massive plume of water to the surprise of Sobeicki.

Sobeicki managed to get the pair back to RAF Drem, which was no easy feat with Jim’s Spitfire responding less than favourably. The evidence of how close he had come to death stared Jim in the face as his airscrew came to a stop. A foot of each propeller blade had been bent back 90 degrees, pointing right at him. The incident left both Jim and Sobeicki shaken and was perhaps too good an example of the dangers of flying over still water. Though it wasn't enough to stop Jim's friends from accusing him of trying to join the submarine service.

Later that day, Chuck Fowler, who was being led in close formation by F/O Jankowski, burred the ends of his wooden Rotol propeller blades when he flew too close to his flight commander. Jankowski didn't come out of it unscathed, returning home with chunks missing from his rudder. Not a good day to be a propeller in 453 Squadron.

A tongue in cheek cartoon drawn by the Squadron cartoonist LAC Ashely, of Jim Fergusons dash with death.

Jim Ferguson in his Spitfire FU-U at RAF Hornchurch

The next day, understandably concerned by the series of accidents, S/L Tony Morello called the squadron together to address poor flying discipline, mainly focusing on Jim Ferguson's accident. Based on a suggestion from F/Lt Hill, the discipline started on the ground, with all the pilots now showing correct military respect for authority by addressing all officers “Sir” or “Mr.”

Many pilots arrived at 453 Squadron in groups from different OTUs, some had been with each other from the first RAAF training school in Australia, others had known each other since high school. After earning their wings, promising pilots received commissions as Pilot Officers, while the others graduated as Sergeants. The Australians were informal with each other, disregarding such formal regulations. The resultant order went down like a lead balloon. 

Some of the sergeants acted as if they had never heard the order. Some, including the RAAF officers, treated it as a big joke. Others ignored the officers entirely, refusing to engage in conversation and acting as if they weren’t present. The bitterness created a rift within the squadron.

“Popular man” described one of the sergeants of F/Lt Hill. “Guess he’ll have to get to understand Australian psychology a little better if he is to make a success of running an RAAF flight.”

Dick Darcy, one of the Australians who had passed out as a Pilot Officer, was among the first to extend an olive branch to the Sergeants of B Flight. He joined Jim Ferguson, Jim Furlong and Matt De Cosier in Len Hansell’s room for an airing of grievances. Just as Len was about to launch into a "seditious oration,” Wilfred Whiteford poked his head into the room. The CO wanted to talk to him. With visions of being court-martialled, Len was shocked by an irony of ironies when Morello told him that he had just been recommended for a commission!

Despite F/Lt Hill's suggestion to improve flying discipline, the accidents continued as the inexperienced pilots worked hard to bring themselves up to operational standards.

Out of the groups of pilots who had arrived at Drem, none of them had known each other as long as David “Chuck” Fowler, Charles "Guy" Riley and David “Spit” Steele. They were Adelaide boys, high school friends. All of them had attended St Peter's College together; they were all in Farrell house and each of them had spent four years in the college cadet corps.

A group from St Peter's, including the three, had signed up to the Citizen Air Force/Air Force Reserve while they waited for positions to become open in the Empire Air Training scheme. This allowed them to attend one of the Initial Training Schools while they waited. When the positions for Air Crew in the full-time Air Force finally became available, they received their application forms, but being under 18 they still had one daunting step - facing up to their parents.

“I had to get permission from my parents to join the services because I was under-age. I asked my father to sign and expected a bit of a discussion but no, he took it and signed it right away. Because he knew quite well, and previous to that he and my mother must have discussed the fact, that I wanted to join up”
- Jim Ferguson

Each of them presented their parents with their completed RAAF Application for air crew forms on 19th of September 1940. Each parent signed and dated the application in front of them, likely feeling a mixture of fear and apprehension about the dangers their sons were about to face.

The group's plan to remain together had been successful so far. They first passed through No. 1 EFTS in Tamworth, Australia, then moved on to No. 14 SFTS Alymer in Canada, followed by No. 17 AFU at RAF Watton and No. 53 OTU at RAF Llandow. Eventually, they arrived at RAF Drem, posted to 453 Squadron. They were fortunate to stay together for so long, as the military often assigned personnel wherever needed, with little personal choice. Less than ten days after their arrival, 13 Group HQ contacted S/L Tony Morello, requesting that 453 Squadron transfer two pilots to 242 Squadron, who were also based at Drem. Chuck Fowler was one of them.

The squadron attempted to fight it, with both Morello and Fowler submitting requests to return him to 453. Headquarter Fighter Command reasoned that they had requested Australian aircrew to join 242 Squadron, and Fowler had simply been chosen because he was already at RAF Drem. While they didn’t send him back to the squadron, they admitted it was undesirable to pull Australian aircrew away from an Australian squadron and said they would make every effort to repost Fowler back to 453 Squadron.

St Peter's College army cadets in a march past during a camp at Woodside, South Australia, 1938.
Source: State Library of South Australia [B 62861]

Squadron ORB Item 2: S/L Tony Morellos concern over the posting of 2 pilots to 242 squadron and negative impact it had on pilots sense of solidarity during such an important time.
Source: NAA: A9186, 139

On the 1st of August, Guy Riley and Spit Steele went out to practise dogfighting and aerobatics. The two had concocted a theory to test, something to gain the edge in a dogfight. The plan was to try and drop the Spitfire's landing flaps as a defensive manoeuvre with the hope that the attacking aircraft would overshoot and zoom past the defender.

The concept of using flaps in combat wasn’t anything new, however it wasn’t a safe tactic in the Spitfire. Unlike most other aircraft, the Spitfire's flaps didn’t allow for any angle of adjustment. It had two positions, up or down. As a result, the Air Ministry pilot's notes for the Spitfire Mk.V limited their operation to indicated air speeds of 140mph or less.

The two of them flew north of the Firth and climbed up to 15,000 ft. They started practising attacks on each other, dropping their flaps, trying to force the other to overshoot. About 30 minutes in, Spit Steele's cockpit canopy cracked open and dangled on the R3002 IFF aerial. Spit tried to call up Riley to tell him he had to return but his RT microphone was experiencing issues and got no response. 

Within 10 minutes of returning to Drem, operations rang through, they asked 'Spit' if he knew where Riley was. After telling operations that he had last seen Riley climbing through 11’000 ft North of the Firth, he received heart wrenching news that an aircraft had been seen to crash in the same area from a great height.

The aircraft that had come down and crashed into a farmhouse. Luckily for the occupants, they had been in the garden at the time. The pilot was identified as P/O Charles Riley.

The inquiry that followed found that while the Riley's Spitfire had fallen from a significant altitude, the damage sustained to the aircraft indicated that its speed had not been high. The flaps were found to be in a down and locked in position. The use of flaps was also questioned seriously as it went against operating procedures directed by the Air Ministry. Picked at random, Dick Darcy and Rusty Leith were called to give statements that they had been provided with the correct pilot's notes and operating instructions for the Spitfire Mk.Vb.

Two witnesses of the crash came forward to testify in the inquiry. They had seen Riley’s Spitfire came out of cloud in a shallow spin. They had heard roars from the Merlin engine as Riley made attempts to increase power to recover from spin. Falling to 2000ft, it looked as though Riley had managed to stop the spin but moments later the aircraft lost control again, spinning away in the opposite direction. At the last moment, just 200 ft off the ground Riley appeared to have stopped the spin, it coincided with another roar of the Merlin at full throttle but it came too late. The Spitfire nosed down and struck the farmhouse in a vertical dive.

At the conclusion of the court of inquiry two investigating officers concluded the following:

"In my opinion the pilot commenced a practise spin at a height of 8,000 - 10,000 feet. Either he had his flaps down or he failed to pull the stick right back, with the result that a flat spin occurred. It took a considerable time to make a recovery which was effected by putting the aircraft into a normal spin. I consider the pilot had insufficient height to gain a safe flying speed before pulling out of his dive, thereby stalling at 200 feet.‍In my opinion the accident was due to inexperience on the part of the pilot when executing that manoeuvre. I think that flaps were used intentionally though the pilot was inexperienced in their use.”‍

‍“All the evidence points to the fact that the two pilots concerned had discussed the possibility of the use of flaps and ignored the orders on this subject presumably thinking they knew better.‍It is quite apparent that the handling notes and pilot orders were read as the evidence of the squadron commander and two pilots chosen at random.”

Understandably, the death of Guy Riley deeply affected Spit Steele. He had already lost his brother Geoffrey in February, flying with 211 Squadron in Palembang, Indonesia. Geoffrey had been on convoy escort duty with two other Blenheims - All three were shot down by fighters, with only two survivors out of the nine crew members who went out that day.

After travelling across the world on a great adventure as a band of three high school friends, it must have been a painful adjustment for both Spit Steele and Chuck Fowler when, ten days later, Chuck left RAF Drem with 242 Squadron for RAF North Weald.

Centre row labels: 36: Dick Darcy, 37: Tom Swift, 38: Guy Riley

Photo from Jim Ferguson, most likely on arrival for training at 14 SFTS at Aylmer, Canada.

An example photo of the warning placard next to the flaps lever that could be found in the Spitfire Mk.V