No. 242 Squadron Revisited

THE ROYAL CANADIAN AIR FORCE JOURNAL VOL. 4 | NO. 2 SPRING 2015 When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.1 – The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance No. 242 Squadron Revisited By Hugh Halliday f mythology is what we want to believe and history is what we should know, the two may blend or wage war with one another. “Facts” are not always reliably documented, and memories are I frequently coloured by the passage of time and personal beliefs. This writer is not immune from the phenomena. The story of No. 242 Squadron is wrapped up in that of Sir Douglas Bader, himself a legend. Yet the accepted myths have been challenged.2 I have been mesmerized by the legend but have been privileged to have seen it up close. I was 14 when I read Paul Brickhill’s Reach for the Sky3 and 17 when I saw the movie. Needless to say, I was in thrall with the story and the man. My father was, himself, an amputee (Buerger’s Disease), and I understood better than most the challenges involved. About 1968, while researching my first book, The Tumbling Sky,4 I had the first of several extended interviews with Percival Stanley “Stan” Turner, a man who had flown with Bader and was an important part of his story.5 Then, BBM P. S. Turner in September 1976, I met Bader himself. 48 No. 242 Squadron Revisited THE ROYAL CANADIAN AIR FORCE JOURNAL VOL. 4 | NO. 2 SPRING 2015 The Canadian War Museum had invited Sir Douglas (recently knighted for his contributions to amputee causes) to deliver a public lecture about the Battle of Britain. I was assigned to be his driver, accompanying him to all functions and virtually being at his side over four days. At a luncheon held by the War Amputations of Canada, I was about the only person present who had all four of his limbs. It was a fascinating and educational experience. Fascinating because Bader was as charismatic as the legend, personally charming and generous to myself and my wife. Yet, he did not try to hide his dark side. He was a racial bigot. He patronized a blonde reporter who turned up at the War Amputations luncheon and had not been well briefed in advance. Yet, he had an amusing weakness. He was extremely annoyed when people submitted their copies of Reach for the Sky for an autograph, but nobody had a copy D. Bader of his own book, Fight for the Sky.6 On the other hand, his reunion with Stan Turner was touching. It was my second meeting with Turner, and I would see him several more times in years to come.7 Four years later, when I came to write the history of No. 242 Squadron, I realized how crucial Turner was to the story of Bader, because he was a witness to events before Bader and, thus, a primary source for Brickhill.8 The squadron’s history in 1940 may be broken down into three phases, viz.: a. Formation and training. No. 242 had been formed in October 1939 as an all-Canadian unit within the Royal Air Force (RAF). The idea was largely one of optics—it made for good press in Canada to have such a unit operating before a Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) presence could be established. Only about 40 per cent of the ground crews were Canadian, but all of the pilots (with one exception) were Canadians who had enrolled directly in the RAF before the war. The exception was the Commanding Officer, Squadron Leader Fowler Morgan Gobeil, an RCAF officer who had been on exchange duties with the RAF until he was unexpectedly plucked out of Training Command to lead No. 242. Gobeil appears to have done a good job. He lobbied to have the squadron equipped with Hurricanes and trained the pilots to operational standards. In May 1940, they acquitted themselves well, both through a flight detached to France and in aerial combats over Dunkirk. Gobeil himself was credited with one enemy aircraft destroyed and one probably destroyed—the first RCAF aerial victories of the war. b. Debacle in France. Between Dunkirk and the French capitulation, the British attempted to re-establish land and air forces south of the Seine river. This included No. 242 Squadron which was despatched to France on 8 June 1940, as part of No. 67 Wing, only to be evacuated on the 18th. By all accounts, those ten days were chaotic, culminating in the ground crew departing in response to orders, the source of which nobody seemed to recall, on the night of the 15th. Even Gobeil was unaware of their departure. Few sources describe or explain the breakdown, and those that exist are self-serving. When No. 242 made it back to Britain, the Commanding Officer failed to report back immediately to his squadron. He was replaced at once by Bader. No. 242 was in bad odour; Gobeil was a pariah in Fighter Command. His failings as a commanding officer were compounded by his defeatist talk. c. Subsequent command by Bader, well known through various biographies. His record shines all the brighter in view of his inheriting what by most accounts was a broken squadron. It is worth noting, however, that he filled the flight commander posts with men personally known No. 242 Squadron Revisited 49 THE ROYAL CANADIAN AIR FORCE JOURNAL VOL. 4 | NO. 2 SPRING 2015 to him. Casualty replacements were more British (18 up to the end of October) than Canadian (8). No. 242 rapidly ceased to be a distinctly “Canadian” unit. During the Battle of Britain, confirmed victories by RAF personnel (37, 8 by Bader) exceeded those credited to Canadians (24 in all, 6 by W. L. McKnight).9 About the time that I was writing my own history of No. 242, Laddie Lucas was doing his own biography of Bader, who was also his brother-in-law. This was a workable account of the man, but it is suspect (as is Paul Brickhill’s book) because at least one principal source had a stake in putting the worst possible face on Gobeil. Lucas writes that at one point that Bader was “busy rounding up the ground personnel somewhere between Le Mans and the coast, hotly pursued by the advancing German forces.”10 This, of course, puts Bader’s actions in the best possible light, notwithstanding that the adjutant himself was likely the source. Lucas finally distills the most negative story about Gobeil: The squadron commander did not lead the unit on the last stage of its withdrawal from France to Tangmere, on the Sussex coast. He was in no position to do so. As the rest of the pilots took to the air, he was still lying prostrate beside the flight hut. A sparkle of humour was to be found in the note which was left pinned to his battledress: When you surface, you’ll find a serviceable Hurricane expecting to be flown home. Try vector 030° for the English coast. Then turn right for Tangmere.11 This may be true, but Gobeil’s account of his departure, even if it is self-serving, might be equally true: At about 1000 hours the 18th June I was driving to the East end of the aerodrome accompanied by another officer, trying to locate a petrol tanker for refuelling if the Squadron should have to carry out another protective patrol before leaving. The operations officer drove up in a motor car and stopped me. His instructions were to get off for England immediately as we were holding up the embarkation. I was given no instructions as to where to go in England, except that everyone was to take off at once. The entire atmosphere of the aerodrome was extremely unsettling and definitely gave the impression that the flight was a case of every man for himself. I immediately proceeded to the Squadron dispersal point at the West end of the aerodrome and found the majority of the Squadron aircraft already started up. While I was trying to start up my aircraft, the Squadron taxied out and took off. As soon as I got my aircraft started, I waited for the only other pilot I could see anywhere starting up and as soon as he had started up, we began to taxy [sic] out for take off.12 Lucas’ efforts to explain the Gobeil debacle were strained, misleading, and patronizing. The CO [Commanding Officer] was a French Canadian who had earlier been lifted out of the remoteness of Training Command in Canada and pitchforked into the hot seat at the head of 242. The appointment owed something to politics. It was close to being a fatal mistake. But it cannot be laid at the door of the victim. Up to the time of taking over, he had had no operational experience whatever. He was thus quite unsuitable for the task. The responsibility lay squarely with Ottawa. It was a straightforward error of judgement, born of ignorance. In the circumstances, the result could hardly have avoided being devastating.13 In fact, dozens of COs were brought from training to operational units during the early stages of the war. It is doubtful that his selection was made in Ottawa. Of the small pool of RCAF officers 50 No. 242 Squadron Revisited THE ROYAL CANADIAN AIR FORCE JOURNAL VOL. 4 | NO. 2 SPRING 2015 on exchange duties in Britain in 1939, Gobeil was as good as could be found—a graduate of the Royal Military College of Canada with experience both in training and aerobatic teams.

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