SQUADRON LEADER &
SPECIAL OPERATIONS OFFICER
SCORPIONS SECTION
Watcher Of The Skies
In 1917 young and enthusiastic,I lied about my age and joined the Inniskilling Fusiliers. It seemed like a great escape from the daily grind of life in Ireland, but reality struck the first time I had to go over the top in Flanders. I quickly realized that most of the young men I had joined up with where either dead, or terribly wounded, and sooner or later I would probably end up the same way. I had to get away from the front if I was to see out this war. Desertion crossed my mind, but that wasn't my way of doing things.
The crunch came one day, when stranded with the patrol I was leading, we were stuck in a shell hole between the lines, when I heard a sound and looked up, soaring high above the conflict was a couple of Sopwith Camels. That was where I had to be if I was to live out this hell. After dark I led my patrol back to our lines and immediately requested a transfer to the Royal Air Corp.
The RAC was crying out for pilots, and as I learned later, more were being killed in training than in action, but in a short time I was excepted. We were hurried through flight training, and before I knew it, was back in France in time for the last German Offensive. It was trial by fire, but with an aptitude for flying, and a lot of luck, I learned the skills necessary to stay alive in the Sopwith.
After the war I returned to Ireland but I quickly realized that farming wasn't the life for me. Canada's North was opening up, and bush pilots were needed to fly supplies in, and injured workers out. I spent the next 16 years flying aircraft across Canada putting the skills I had learned in flight school to a more productive use. And in my spare time did some demonstration flying, and stunt displays.
In the late 1930s I could see the storm clouds over Europe, I realized that air power would play a major role in the coming war and I wanted to do my part. When I approached the RCAF to volunteer they laughed at me, I was too old and didn't have a Degree. Then I heard that the RAF were taking anyone who could fly, this was my chance. Making my way to Halifax I signed on as a seaman on a cattle boat crossing the Atlantic. As promised the RAF were keen to take me on and I soon found myself in a squadron flying Glouester Gladiators.
The Gladiator was an aircraft designed more for the last war than the coming one, but that wasn't the only problem the RAF had. The class system was firmly entrenched in the RAF only those from the right schools and families were making it to the senior ranks and I could see that the outdated tactics they were imposing would cripple the squadrons that would face the Germans.
At the outbreak of war I was transferred to a Hurricane squadron, at last a modern aircraft, which was moving to France to assist our allies. France seemed even less prepared for war than Britain, and the locals just wanted us to go home and stop frightening their animals with our aircraft.
When the German invasion started it was utter confusion, we would takeoff to intercept incoming raids not knowing where we would land, as the Germans over ran our forward airfields. We fought valiantly but were out numbered and out flown by the Luftwaffe. Finally on the day France surrendered the remnants of my squadron flew back across the channel.
Promoted to Flt Lt and assigned to No.1 Squadron as a Flight Leader I am at this moment preparing my flight for the up and coming Battle of Britain.......
I have since been promoted to Operations Officer.
Sqd Ldr.Scorpion.
AWARDS
