The Airmen's Stories - F/O P P C Barthropp

(We are indebted to Wing Commander PPC ‘Paddy’ Barthropp DFC, AFC, RAF Ret'd. for submitting this most interesting account)

Hectors to the Rescue

One memorable day in May 1940 six Hawker Hectors from 613 Squadron took off at dawn from Odiham and landed at Hawkinge. About 11 am while sitting on the grass we were briefed by Air Marshal Sir Edgar Ludlow Hewitt that we had been chosen to stem the German advance.

The Hector was an ancient biplane powered by a Napier Halford engine with 24 cylinders and 48 plugs. Trouble was that at 6000 revolutions the cylinders didn't always know what the plugs were up to. In addition it had a Vickers .303 machine gun firing through the propeller somehow tied up with the camshaft. Occasionally the gun got out of synch with the camshaft and would remove the propeller in mid air. Goodbye one Hector.

At about 2 pm six aircraft, as the Americans would say, "left the verdant green pastures of England with their hydromatic Rotol airscrews whipping the air into an invisible froth" and headed towards Calais which was on fire with acrid smoke from the oil tanks filling the air. We were told to fly line astern to our leader Squadron Leader Anderson. This order was disobeyed as Andy was 28 years old and our little band of five, aged about 19, were certain that at his advanced age he would suffer a heart attack over the target if indeed we could find one. Not to worry we pressed on doing, I am sure, no damage to the Germans. I remember having a squirt in Calais harbour at what seemed to be enemy soldiers but were probably unsuspecting French fishermen. My Air Gunner, an AC2 MacKinnon, with no experience whatsoever, was seated behind me armed with a Lewis gun prone to what was called a Number One stoppage. Impossible to rectify in the air. It got one.

Home Sweet Home to a heroes welcome but not quite. Those of us who had survived German flak were dealt with by the Royal Navy.

On arrival at Hawkinge I was signalled by Al Edy on his Aldis lamp that my 120lb blockbuster bomb was dangling dangerously, only held by the rear lug. Best landing I did in 22 years - a daisy cutter! Whoever thought out his farcical episode should have been court-martialled. Reminiscent of those brave chaps in Fairey Battles who were sent on non-productive suicide missions. Few survived, 2 Victoria Crosses awarded.

One young man, Rupert Parkhouse, a young Cranwell cadet, spent five years as a Prisoner-of-War only to be told when he got home that one third of his service pay was deducted and that he didn't qualify for the Air Crew Europe Star as he had not completed sufficient time in an Operational Squadron.

Our little group got 2 DFC's and 4 Mentioned in Despatches. Funny old world isn't it ?

Per Ardua Ad Astra