FLYING THE ATLANTIC, part 6

By DELL ARTHUR

The time spent at Goodwood, England, was an adventure and thrill in itself. Flying off the grass runway, as it has been kept since World War II, we climbed to altitude and headed for France. Looking across the cloudless summer sky it was hard to imagine that this same sky was the exact airspace that German and British warplanes fought to the death. Looking down at the placid blue waters of the English Channel one couldn’t help wonder about the hundreds of airmen, both defender and enemy, who lie under the waters in immortalize sleep.

Our destination was Le Havre, France. The flight was a relative short one and reaching the shores of France I looked to the north and could see in the distance the beaches of Normandy where on June 6, 1944, the allies invaded Europe. Le Havre at that time was under German occupation and its port was used by the German Navy to control both the channel and Atlantic Ocean. During the war the city was bombed 132 times by American and British bombers and the result reduced the city to rubble. Over 5,000 Frenchmen and Nazis died as a result.

There was little aircraft activity and the Le Havre-Octerville airport cleared us for landing. It was exactly noon. Touching down we taxied to the customs area, parked the airplane and entered the building. Reaching the customs office we rang a bell. No answer. We waited a bit and rang again, still no answer. Finally someone came by the office and we inquired about checking in with customs. The guy only stared at us—he didn’t speak English. So, with a smile of indifference he wandered off and we continued to wait.

Time passed so being lunch time we went upstairs to the restaurant. Without question the sandwich I ordered was the worst concoction I ever had the displeasure of eating! Anyone who lauds French cooking would have had an argument with me! I wondered if this was the same restaurant that provided food for the airlines.

With lunch finished we returned to customs. Nobody there. We waited for an hour and nobody ever showed up. Disgusted we returned to the airplane, fired up the engines and took off for our destination, Macon. We never did check in with the French Customs and I don’t know if they ever knew we landed there.

Macon is located in the Burgundy area and about a two hour drive to Paris. It is a beautiful city of over 35,000 people. I was billeted in a chateau serving as a “bread and breakfast” about five miles out of town surrounded by some of the most beautiful pastoral farming land imaginable.  The building I stayed at was over 400 years old and the original front door was still in use. Compared to buildings on the east coast of the United States who brag about some buildings being 300 years old the Europeans would consider these American structures as “new construction!”

My "Bread and Breakfast" room upper right window
                                                      Photo by Dell Arthur

Customers enjoying a morning coffee
                                                                  Photo by Dell Arthur

The history of the community dates as back as the beginning of the first century. At that time it was dominated by the Romans. As time passed Macon changed with the times and different forms of government. As part of the French Revolution, Macon became prominent. It is hard to understand the wars and deaths associated with this charming city over its history. But the most horrific time was during the Second World War when the Nazis occupied the territory. Walking down the cobblestone streets one could picture German soldiers, armed with rifles, intimidating the population. Following the Allied invasion the city was liberated on September 4, 1944.

But when the shops close for the evening the streets become empty. Some restaurants remain open and it was at one of these I met and became friends with the manager, a bald headed muscular manager of about five feet, eight inches and solid built. It turned out he was a Corsican who looked like a villain out of a James Bond movie. Contrary to appearances he proved to be the perfect host. Now that I found a “favorite restaurant” to visit I returned many times during my stay.

One of the most impressive monuments is the Cathedral of Saint-Vincent. The Cathedral was built in the early 1000’s and remains active to the present day. Walking through the ancient church there are several tunnels and each has a small “side altar,” where individual masses in the past centuries were said. But today Mass is a said exclusively only in the main nave.

But it was getting dark now and following a day of activity and flying it was time to retire to my bread and breakfast and turn in for the night.

(to be continued)

FLYING THE ATLANTIC, part 5

By DELL ARTHUR

The only word that can best describe Chichester/Goodwood is “fascinating.” After checking into the hotel I took the opportunity to stroll down the sidewalks of “Main Street” and take in the ambiance of history. The town dates back to 43 AD, when Britain was first invaded by the Romans and what attracted the invaders was the river Lavant, that passes through the area. This was the source that provided needed water for the aggressors. As a result the small community was developed into a fort but later abandoned. Today many buildings now standing were originally constructed as far back as 1000 years or more. It isn’t unusual to see, nestled between two avant-garde shops, a store built of stone housing an antique building built 400 years ago still occupied and operating. No cars are allowed to drive through this part of town and pedestrians and shoppers can meander along the cobblestone roadway undisturbed.

But the main attraction of Goodwood is the historic Cathedral Church of the Holy Trinity built in 1091 and consecrated in 1108 according to historian Tim Lambert. But in 1114 the building was damaged by fire and was rebuilt. During that time several religious orders preached from the pulpit including Franciscans and Dominicans. This continued until the reign of King Henry VIII.

Cathedral of the Holy Trinity
Photo by Dell Arthur

Unable to achieve a divorce from his legitimate queen, Catherine of Aragon, Henry decided to apostatize and form his own church now known as “The Church of England” (or Anglican protestant church). The result was Henry allowed the murder of Catholic priests, nuns, monks and religious brothers and then confiscated all Roman Catholic property including churches, monasteries and convents and converting them into whatever use he deemed appropriate—as long as they were not used for Catholic purposes! One result of this period is the beautiful Cathedral in Goodwood that was originally Catholic but is now an Anglican Church and residence of the controlling protestant bishop.

Another structure that captures your eye is the Chichester Market Cross that was built in the 16^th century. It sits in the middle of the square and is a popular site to visitors. According to Lambert, it was 1501 when Bishop Storey erected the Market Cross. This was the common place for small farmers and venders to sell their goods. The Bishop said anyone could sell their goods without paying a fee if they could stand under the cross.

Chichester Market Cross
Photo by Dell Arthur

During World War II Goodwood was bombed three times by the Germans. And it was here that the famed fighter pilot and double amputee Douglas Bader flew his last mission before being shot down over France. Sir Douglas, as he is now known following his knighthood, made his home at Tangmere just a short distance from Goodwood, where he spent his time following his retirement from the Shell Oil Company as an enthusiastic supporter of the community’s activities.

Now in modern times Goodwood enjoys many activities and is known for its famous race track and “Festival of Speed. Each year competitors from around the world gather for a weekend of celebration, including “The Driver’s Ball.” Honored at the festivities are a number of great race car drivers as The United States’ Richard Petty, England’s Sir Jackie Stewart and Formula One champion Sir Sterling Moss. Petty and Moss continue to Influence auto racing but Stewart unfortunately was killed in a racing accident. In addition to auto racing Goodwood also sports championship horse racing. But it is the auto racing that captures most interest.

As part of the event there are race cars dating back to the 1920’s that still run like clockwork. And there are the formula one car’s that take to the track and thrill fans with their speed. The sound of powerful engines and the smell of fuel and oil are all part of the excitement.

Outside of the community are two standard Professional Golf Association golf courses. And the Brits make the most of them. 

Yet it wasn’t the car or horse races or the golf courses that were the great attraction but rather the generosity and friendless of the people. Having dinner isn’t a lonesome event. Usually there is someone sitting nearby who is more than willing to engage in conversation and they seemed most interested in talking with a “colonialist” from the United States.

But our stay was to be a short one. The next day we would be taking off for the last time from the famed airport and head across the channel for France.

FLYING THE ATLANTIC, part 4

By DELL ARTHUR

            Following our short stay at Biggin Hill airport we fired up the engines of the 340 and headed north to Chichester/Goodwood, home of the world famous Festival of Speed race course. It was only a short flight and the countryside changed dramatically from the large area of London and surrounding urban population to a more placid setting. The rolling hills of the countryside punctuated with farms, green pastures and livestock gave off a sense of serenity. It was hard to imagine that during World War II this surrounding area was bombarded by German aircraft in their attacks on the Goodwood airport.  This grass covered aerodrome housed a squadron of Spitfire fighters led by an English fighter pilot named Douglas Bader. It was

Bader and his squadron of Canadian pilots, that played a principal part in the famed Battle of Britain.

            Approaching the field I was astonished to discover it was a “grass trip.” No paved runways. Later I was told that this is exactly how the field was during the war.  The owner of the site, his Lordship Marsh, promised that he would keep the airport as it has always been since World War II, in memory of those horrific times and the heroic men who flew from here. Circling the pattern we got into position for landing and as we passed over the fence and flared out the wheels gently kissed the earth. Taxiing to a parking space we shut down the engines and disembarked. It was like being in the 1940’s.

            Douglas Bader earned his popularity the hard way. He wasn’t your usual pilot. In fact he was nearly rejected for military service as a result of an airplane accident he suffered just seven years prior to the outbreak of war. At that time he was a young pilot in the Royal Air Force and was out doing stunts when he attempted a slow roll just off the ground. This particular airplane was noted for slow responses and heaviness and Bader hadn’t done aerobatics in it before. He was aware of the reputation of the plane but when taunted to do some “trick flying” he wasn’t hesitant to pass up a challenge. The result was a crash that would probably have killed a lesser man.

            When the rescuers rushed to the crash site they had to cut him out of the wreckage. Both of his legs were smashed and arriving at the hospital the doctors had no hope of saving them. Consequently they amputated his right leg above the knee and the left leg just below the knee.

            Following months of rehabilitation and learning to walk on his “tin legs” he was mustered out of the service with a 100 per cent disability. But Bader was a pilot and he knew no other way to make a living but to fly. Going to work with the Shell Company he spent the next seven years behind a desk but always with a desire to return to his first love—flying.

            And then came 1939 and the threats of Adolph Hitler and his Nazi regime. Conquering most of Europe the dictator’s next wish was the invasion of England. Foreseeing the threat the RAF took another look at Bader and after satisfying a medical examination he was allowed to take a flight refresher course. He nailed it! Soon he was back flying Hurricane fighters and was finally promoted to take over a Canadian squadron.

            Taking charge of this recalcitrant group of devil-may-care pilots, he was met with opposition. How, the pilots wondered, could a man with two artificial legs command a squadron behind a desk? Little did they know that Bader had no intention of leading “behind a desk”! Walking out to a parked Spitfire he climbed in, fired up the engine and then proceeded to put on an aerobatic show that dazzled the men watching. From that point on they were “his men.”

            After bringing the group to readiness they were set for combat. And combat they had.

            Daily German fighters and bombers flew overhead. The English were outnumbered by more than 10 to one and the loss of a single English fighter was a major setback. Bader’s group more than equaled the loss of airplanes and he himself accounted for a large number of enemy planes shot down before he himself was shot down.

            What happened was he was leading his group when his radio went out and he was unable to communicate with the others. A group of German 109 fighters were sighted and a vicious “dog fight” broke out. In just minutes it was over and Bader found he was alone over France. Turning towards home base he sighted six German 109’s in front of him and being who he was he couldn’t resist a fight. Tearing into the enemy he downed one before he himself was hit. The shells knocked out nearly all of his flight and engine instruments and also damaged the engine. The cockpit started to fill with smoke and he knew he had to get out of the airplane. Jettisoning the canopy he struggled to get out but his right leg was jammed behind the rudder pedals and he couldn’t get out. In the struggle he was finally able to separate from the tin leg and bailing out he safely opened his parachute and drifted down into a field.

            As he floated down one of the German fighters flew close by him and seeing a man with a single leg drifting down he turned away without firing.

            It was only minutes before German ground solders captured him and turned him over to the Luftwaffe where he was treated as a celebrity. His total count of enemy aircraft shot down was over 22. As an act of mercy the Germans said they would allow the RAF to fly over the prison camp and drop off Bader’s spare leg. When he got it the first thing he did was to attempt to escape!

            He tried other escapes as well and finally the Germans took away his leg until he “behaved.” Finally they transferred him to an escape proof castle in the middle of Germany where he spent the rest of the war as a prisoner of war.

            At the end of the war Bader was released from military service and went back to work for the Shell Company. The company provided him with his personal airplane and, as part of his job, traveled all over Europe on company business. He remained with Shell until his retirement and finally settled down in a small country home where he lived out his life.

            His final takeoff from English soil was from Goodwood and as a memorial of his heroism there is a bronze statue of him next to the green grass airstrip standing on his “tin legs,” and holding his favored pipe in his hands.

            

FLYING THE ATLANTIC PART 3

By DELL ARTHUR       

It was a sense of reluctance that we departed Iceland. The few days spent there was an adventure in itself and the sights and people left a warm memory that will last forever.

            After checking weather (old joke about weather among pilots is “weather we go or weather we don’t!"), we filed an instrument flight plan and headed out of Reykjavik towards the east for mainland Europe. This five hour leg would be the most uncomfortable and dangerous since all of the flight would be over open ocean. If anything happened and we had to ditch the airplane I recalled that I was a notorious bad swimmer!

            But that wonderful Pratt-Whitney turbo jet engine performed without a hitch. Flying a single engine airplane on such a flight isn’t particularly recommended by most people with common sense. Yet all was in order and the vast expansion of the sea gave pause to reflect on the majesty and greatness of all that God created.

Time seemed to pass quickly as we peered down at the water below. So far we hadn’t seen a single ship in the area which made us wish that we could reach land a little sooner. If we had to set down our only hope would be a last minute radio broadcast and hope someone heard it. Other than that all we could do was sit back and try to relax. Time would take care of itself.

The sky was clear of any clouds and visibility was unlimited. The hum of the engine had a hypnotic effect and the soft cushion of the seat added to the comfort of the flight. The monotonous scanning of the aircraft gauges indicated everything in order. We could occasionally hear some aircraft communicating with center and soon we observed a couple of fishing boats. Finally, looking out in front there appeared a glimmer of green. Ireland! The emerald island fabled for its beauty and culture and from our viewpoint the description didn’t do it justice. Unfortunately we wouldn’t be landing and as we passed overhead it was with regret that our itinerary didn’t include a visit.

But now we could say “we made it.” From here on land would be our best friend and it was only a short hop to Scotland and then down to England where we were scheduled to land at Gatwick Airport, just south of London.

Gatwick is one of the more busy airports in the United Kingdom and located just south of London. Given permission to land we touched down and were directed to taxi to a flight reception center where we parked. It was here we left our friend who owned the airplane and who was continuing on his trip to Russia. Going inside we waited for a taxi to town where I spent the night. Wanting to sight see a bit before dinner. I was hampered by the fact that our arrival also sparked a steady rain. England lived up to its tradition.

After a restful night sleep and breakfast I caught a bus for Biggin Hill Airport about an hour drive north of our hotel where I was to pick up a twin engine turbo charged Cessna 340 and continue my trip to mainland Europe.

 The 340 is a wonderful airplane to fly and is capable to comfortably hold six passengers. Since this particular airplane was also pressurized I could easily cruse at higher altitudes to take advantage of winds aloft.

But it was flying out of Biggin Hill that was the biggest attraction for me. To fly out of there was a thrill in itself.

During World War II Biggin Hill was one of the principle RAF airports in use. Many bomber strikes against the Germans originated out of this airport and many famous Royal Air Force pilots established their reputations fighting in the Battle of Britain from this aerodrome.

Myself in front of World War II Spitfire

Little at the airport has changed since the war and many of the original buildings are still used. What impressed me most were the large number of United States registered airplanes parked throughout the vast area. What was most interesting was many of these airplanes were small single engine Piper and Cessna airplanes ranging from two place Piper Super Cubs, to Piper Warriors, Cherokees and two-place Cessna 150’s. I can understand the number of 150’s since this is the primary airplane used for flight training. All of them had to have been transported by ship rather than oversea flights since none of them had the range for such a flight unless highly modified. And there was no way the smaller two place planes could have been flown such a distance from the United States. Thinking of my recent flight in a sophisticated single-engine turbo prop airplane equipped with the most modern avionics and instruments didn’t seem so foolish after all!

RAF Chapel with names of  airmen lost in Battle of Britain

One of the main attractions of the base is the RAF chapel. Entering the nave you can see up front a huge bronze wall inscribed with the names of all the airmen who died in the famous defense of England. Included in the list are the names of men from all parts of Europe, Canada the United States, Ireland and South Africa who took part in the battle. If it had not been for these courageous fighters England most certainly would have lost the war.

(To be continued)