Bill’s Boot

Any aviator’s emotions can not fail to be stired when standing in the presence of an airplane type representative of World War Two. By any standards these flying machines are nowadays old, at least 75 years old. But the passage of time does not change just how young the men and women were who crewed these airplanes in defence of liberty during WW2. Many of them, still boys and girls by today’s standards, shouldered almost unimaginable responsibilities on our behalf. 

 

Over the years Bazflyers confess to more than once standing beside a Lancaster bomber, looking up towards its elevated cockpit, trying to imagine oneself as a youthful 20-something-year-old pilot flying such a huge machine with its crew on a mission of war into hostile territory on a dark night. I seriously doubt those attempts of mental imagery went anywhere near garnering the emotions and fear experienced on a daily basis by the young wartime pilots and their bomber crews. 

Halifax Bomber on RAF 35 Squadron.

 

Here is a story with a twist, about one of those young wartime pilots. He was Flying Officer ‘Bill’ Hickson. Like many of the men and women who survived the war, Bill came home and slipped quietly back into his former life. Although he eventually became a high-ranking civil servant few people were ever aware of his wartime involvement as a young bomber pilot. 

 

Bazflyers stumbled across the Kiwi Connection eight years ago while visiting friends in rural Holland. Being from New Zealand and pilots it wasn’t long before one of the locals alerted us to a wartime connection the village had to a downed New Zealand airman and how they had, for decades, taken care of a flying boot discovered nearby. 

 

Bill Hickson was still a teenager when he left his humble job as a junior technician in the Auckland Telephone Exchange to volunteer as a trainee pilot with the Royal New Zealand Air Force. Within weeks of receiving his pilot’s wings Bill was in the thick of war flying anti-submarine patrols in Whitley bombers out of St Eval in Cornwall. He then flew four-engine Halifax bombers for RAF 51 Squadron on raids over Europe, while based in Yorkshire.

 F/O ‘Bill' Hickson just 20 years of age.

 

His flying skills were recognised in an invitation to join the elite Pathfinder Force, whose job it was to drop indicators to mark targets for following aircraft. Pilot Officer Hickson, as he was then, chose to ignore the slim prospects of surviving a 45-mission Pathfinder tour. In this role he was based at Graveley with the RAF's 35 Squadron. Typical missions for the squadron were to the industrial cities of the Ruhr Valley, known to aircrew as Happy Valley because of the heavy anti-aircraft defenses. Always a man of conservative speech Bill recorded flying two operations to Berlin, within three nights, dodging searchlights, fighter aircraft and ground fire, as “quite harrowing”.

 

Bill Hickson was known for being partial to a meal of bacon and eggs. It was June 21, 1943, when a WAAF waitress offered him his favorite dish before he flew out on a mission to Europe. Being a bit tight on time he asked the WAAF to put the bacon and eggs on hold. He'd eat them in the morning when he got back. Little did he know it was a breakfast that had to wait…!

 

Later that night the 20-year-old Hickson and his crew in their Halifax bomber were shot down over Holland. The pilot who shot the Halifax and its crew out of the sky in the early morning of June 22, 1943, was none other than German fighter ace Günther Radusch, himself barely 30 years of age. That night 35 squadron lost the most aircraft from any squadron on any night raid for the entire war - pretty sobering stuff when you think of how many people were on each Halifax! Rear gunner Maxie Brown (28), and second pilot Henry Krohn (21) an Australian with the RAAF, both were killed when the plane went down. Bill survived the crash - minus one of his flying boots.

 

In RNZAF uniform, with only one flying boot on and with singed hair, he approached Mrs. van Staveren on her family farm near the town of Venray, 115km south east of Amsterdam. By chance, one of her sons, Cornelius, was a leader in the Dutch underground movement and the family took him in. Bill evaded capture for a few weeks before being picked-up by the Gestapo and sent to Stalag Luft III. He was there for the Great Escape - where he acted as a lookout for the forgers and it is where Bill had his 21st birthday. Recalling the executions of fellow airmen, Bill simply recorded, “The impact of the callous murders of the 50 officers was terribly depressing for us all".

 

Bill’s flying boot was found and looked after by Venlo people for 66 years before it was reunited with Bill on his 87th birthday. The boot is now archived in the NZ Airforce Museum and is where the Bazflyers were finally able to piece together the last threads of this story. Thanks to museum staff for your kind assistance.

 

At the end of the war Bill sailed back to Wellington and after delisting travelled north by train to his then home in Auckland arriving there in time for his 23rd birthday on September 6, 1945. Bill always regarded himself as being on borrowed time ever since he was shot down. He resumed his former career in the Post Office and went all the way to the top, retiring as Director General with responsibility for the working lives of 39,000 employees. He never piloted an aircraft again. 

 

As for the bacon and eggs….when he returned to his RAF Graveley base in England at the end of the war, there waiting for him in the mess was the same WAAF who had served him two years earlier. She had never forgotten Bill’s food order. Without a word being spoken, she disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a plate of bacon and eggs. 

 

Bill passed away a few days before his 89th birthday.

 

Bill on his 87th birthday after being reunited with his long lost boot.

Bill’s boot is now archived in the RNZAF Museum, Christchurch.

Hāwera Brunch Fly-in

Equinox westerly weather systems interspersed with short sharp cold fronts typically dominate New Zealand’s weather in the spring. Fortunately for aviators benign conditions sometimes loiter awhile in the aftermath of a brisk southerly bluster and one such Sunday morning dawned for the Hawera Aero Club brunch fly-in.

The township of Hawera sits at the feet of majestic Mount Egmont/Taranaki. It is the hub of a thriving rural community and the world’s largest dairy processing plant. On the town’s northern outskirt lies a manicured aerodrome owned by the Aero Club. And so it was on a morning made for flying the Bazflyers launched their trusty Comanche ZK-BAZ on a first ever flight to Hawera.

Just 40 minutes later it was time to choose one the aerodrome’s three grass landing strips, lower the undercarriage and slot into a busy traffic pattern for landing. Judging by the number of aircraft already on the ground and more converging, Hawera’s brunch fly-in was an obviously popular event, and the rural proportioned breakfasts provided to all comers without charge did not disappoint.

As well as an eclectic array of aircraft, fly-in events also tend to congregate a diverse group of aviators. From recreational pilots to professional pilots and enthusiast onlookers, general aviation is as much about people as it is equipment and this was epitomised at Hawera. People like retired agricultural pilot Neville Worsley quietly making sure coffees flowed freely throughout the breakfast routine. A modest aviator if ever there was one, Neville’s lifetime of agricultural flying (crop dusting) includes many many hours flying the venerable DC3 airplane modified for fertiliser application. Only in New Zealand, this war relic was flown at low altitudes up valleys, over ridges and between trees spreading essential nutrients on the land. An amazing bygone era indeed.

Unfortunately events inevitably conclude but as our Comanche waited its turn to takeoff on Hāwera grass vector 32 there was a satisfied feeling in the cockpit...this was another memorable Bazflyer day. As if the whole day had been an orchestrated performance, a gorgeous sunset viewed from our Taupo base that evening was an appropriate final curtain. It was also no surprise that the next wild westerly weather pattern lay only 48 hours away.

As the crow flys, Hāwera is just a 40 minute flight southwest from the Baz Base at Taupo Airport.

The conical volcanic profile of Mount Egmont/Taranaki dominates a lush farming landscape.

Comanche ZK-BAZ on Hawera aerodrome while the Bazflyers were enjoying a great breakfast.


Hāwera Aero Club since 1926

Some of the many aircraft flown in for the occasion.


Neville crop dusting with the venerable DC3 (File photo).

Sunset viewed from the Baz Base was an appropriate end to a great aviation day

Solstice Spirit

Solstice means “sun standing still.” Twice every year between the 20th-22nd day of June and December, our planet experiences a solstice. Today here down south of the equator in New Zealand it is winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. Simultaneously it is summer solstice, the longest day of the year, in the northern hemisphere. 

The modern calendar is based off ancient solar calendars which accounts for many festivities being linked to astronomic events. For example, winter solstice traditionally marks the return of the sun following the darkest and coldest time of the year. No doubt in eager anticipation of warm and barmy days to come, winter solstice has been a particular point of celebration since ancient times.

Last year the Bazflyer’s tactically avoided a winter solstice. Instead, flying round the world bestowed us with two summer solstices. The first of these in the northern hemisphere was observed in June while attending Sentimental Journey at Lock Haven, Pensilvania. The second summer solstice was in December, back home in the southern hemisphere after completing our ‘Earthrounder’ circumnavigation. Solstice also marks an annually important Bazflyer celebration…a wedding anniversary!

Today’s solstice is uniquely significant. In the measure of time it is merely a blip since the December solstice. However, in that small solar interval the world as we have known it has been captured in the pincer grip of a pandemic. A pandemic that sadly has also spilled the flotsam of social unrest. 

Among ancient civilisations, winter solstice was the night that the Great Mother Goddess gave birth to the new sun. Perhaps as never before in modern history, today’s solstice is an appropriate time to metaphorically embrace the same spirit…to give birth to a new sun. A sunrise that symbolically announces the pandemic winter is not forever, that life continues, and our world can reawaken a better place….a solstice to celebrate.

Flying round the world reinforced Bazflyer’s stanch belief in the goodness and innovation of mankind, and as said in the Magic Carpet blog; “Our world would not be a place at all if it wasn’t for the people who in habit the folds of its land”. 

Winter solstice on Lake Taupo

Biking the solstice way

 

Cute dogs

Looking forward to tomorrow

 

The Broken Key

Ah, the glory of the handbag — an item that appears in a plethora of unimaginable styles while sporting the livery of every imaginable brand. Even bands as diverse as those much more synonymous with an automobile or footwear.  

The handbag emerged as a fashion accessory after the First World War. It was said to signify the increasing emancipation of women, for whom carrying a bag became a sign of independence and stature. Women had their own cash and bank accounts, and keys to their own property and cars. And from that time onwards young males were raised to never, never enquire as to what might populate the dark depths of a woman’s handbag. 

It has to be said flying our Comanche on Fifty Flights Round the World was preceded by a significant amount of prior preparation and planning. As far as possible every conceivable risk or issue was identified and where applicable appropriate mitigation considered. 

One not so insignificant risk was loosing a key, especially the all important aircraft ignition key. Mitigation for this possibility was smugly satisfied by attaching spare cabin door and ignition keys to an accessible location on the aircraft exterior. Then as backup to the backup, a second spare ignition key was carried in the cabin. What could possibly go wrong? 

The one thing we never thought about of course. Here we were on Ulan-Ude airport, not far from Lake Baikal deep in Russian Siberia, fastened inside our Comanche, airways clearance acknowledged and ready to start. The familiar action of turning the ignition key to engage the engine starter was immediately followed by a litany of inappropriate expletives....the key had broken! 

One piece of the key came away in Bazflyer1’s hand, the other remained firmly wedged in the ignition. In no time at all the spare key from inside the cabin had been retrieved....but expletives continued to flow....the broken piece of key steadfastly refused to come out of the ignition switch. 

“Did you experience any dramas while flying round the world” has been a relatively common question and there is no doubt the broken key incident might have qualified. Indeed it conceivably would have if it wasn’t for a woman’s handbag...Bazflyer2’s handbag. From deep within appeared a pair of tweezers that ever so aptly gripped the broken piece of key lodged inside the ignition switch. Out it came....in went the spare key....and, in a twist the big Lycoming engine was alive.  

The moral of this story is never ever judge a woman’s handbag by its brand or style, it’s always about the contents!

The broken ignition key

On Ulan-Ude airport

On the road to Lake Baikal

On the streets of Ulan-Ude

Local people and produce

Heroes

Many inspirational heroes were born out of World War II. High among them stands the immortalised daring of the young men of Royal Air Force 617 Squadron, also referred to as the Dambusters Squadron.

Today as we shelter under the cover of a Covid-19 lockdown, we might remember that on the night of 16-17 May 1943, exactly seventy seven years ago, 617 Squadron carried out Operation Chastise, more popularly known as the Dambusters Raid, an audacious bombing mission attacking dams serving the Ruhr valley.

Thirteen Australian and twelve New Zealand airmen were scattered among the 133 crew aboard the nineteen Avro Lancaster aircraft that took off that night. 

One of the airmen was South Australian born Dave Shannon DFC and Bar. At just 19 years of age Shannon joined the RAAF in 1941 before attaining his pilot wings the following year under the Empire Flight Training Scheme at Brandon, Manitoba in Canada. The Bazflyers paid homage to the many Kiwi and Australian aircrew who were trained under the scheme when they visited Brandon in the course of their 2019 round the world flight. 

Already the veteran of thirty six sorties over occupied Germany, Shannon was only 21 years of age when with 617 Squadron he was flying a Lancaster at low level in the dark of night deep into hostile Germany. His aircraft payload was identical to each of the other Lancaster's, a single Barnes Wallis dam-busting bomb. 

Flying at extremely low altitudes the operation required intense concentration from all involved, particularly by the human navigators, to steer clear of the principal threats to life: flak on the ground and power lines. Even a ‘split-second loss of concentration’ could be deadly. One of the Lancaster's hit power lines in Holland, killing all seven of the crew instantly.

Squadron Leader Dave Shannon was discharged from the Air Force at the end of 1945 and like so many brave young wartime airmen, he never flew an airplane again. Though "outwardly nerveless", according to military historian Patrick Bishop, Shannon was not immune to dread feelings. As they prepared to depart on one of their night missions, the famous Wing Commander Cheshire commented on the beautiful sunset, to which Shannon replied, "I don't give a fuck about that, I want to see the sunrise".

Then there was New Zealand Air Force Pilot, Squadron Leader Les Munro CNZM, DSO, QSO, DFC. Similarly youthful and a close friend of Shannon’s, Munro who died in 2015 was the last surviving pilot from the Dambusters Raid. Like Shannon he never flew an airplane again after being discharged from the Air Force in 1946.

Fast forward seventy-seven years....Royal Air Force 617 Squadron still lives on. Based nowadays at RAF Marham in England’s Norfolk countryside, the Squadron operates Lockheed Martin F35’s. Whilst it’s aircraft inventory has changed several times since World War II, the squadron’s badge has not. It proudly depicts the original Dambusters mission as an enduring tribute to those brave youthful heroes and an inspiration for those who follow.

Heroes

Dave Shannon

Lancaster flown by RAF 617 Squadron

RAF 617 Squadron badge

Lockheed Martin F-35 current RAF 617 Squadron inventory