The Battle of Britain Memorial Flight

90 years of the RAF BBMF 2008

Squadron Leader B.G 'Stapme' Stapleton DFC, DFC (Dutch)

Gerald Stapleton was born in Durban, South Africa in 1920. In January 1939 he took up a short service commission in the RAF and eventually joined 603 (City of Edinburgh) Squadron in December 1939, prior to becoming one of the outstanding fighter pilots of the Battle of Britain, accounting for nearly twenty enemy aircraft destroyed, probably destroyed or damaged. Indeed all his scores were achieved on Spitfires during this Battle and he was revered as one of Richard Hillary's contemporaries in whose book The Last Enemy, he features. Gerald was awarded the DFC on 15 Nov 1940.

Nicknamed 'Stapme' after a phrase used in his favourite cartoon 'Just Jake', in February 1942 he became flight commander of 257 Squadron, then joined 2 ADF at Colerne the following year before becoming a gunnery instructor at RAF Kenley and Central Gunnery School, Catfoss. He returned to ops in August 1944 to command 247 Squadron on Typhoons. He received the Dutch Flying Cross for his part in the Arnhem operations. Forced to land inside German lines in December 1944, he spent the rest of the war in Stalag Luft I on the Baltic coast. Postwar he joined BOAC, then returned to South Africa but has now retired to England where he is a very popular figure at numerous air shows during the year.

Without doubt he was one of the real 'characters' to survive the war and to many the quintessential image of a Battle of Britain fighter pilot. Gerald now lives in Ketton and is a frequent visitor to the BBMF. For the next 2 seasons the Flight's Spitfire IIa, P7350, which fought on 603 Sqn during the Battle of Britain will proudly wear the letters XT-L, Stapme's personal aircraft.

Gerald Stapleton photographed while a Flying Officer during the Battle of Britain On this the 50th Anniversary of the formation of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight, I feel privileged to have been asked to write about my wartime exploits. At the time of writing, I am one of only four surviving veterans of 603 (City of Edinburgh) Squadron who flew in the Battle of Britain and survived the remainder of WWII and the ravages of time since, and the only one left who flew with the Edinburgh Squadron throughout the entire Battle.

No.603 Squadron lost thirteen pilots during the summer of 1940 with many more seriously injured, most of whom were good friends of mine. Later in the war, as Officer Commanding 247 Squadron based in Holland in support of the Allied ground forces, I lost many more friends and colleagues than had been lost during the summer of 1940. And yet I survived to tell my tale.

603 Squadron arrived at Hornchurch from Scotland on 27 August and were embroiled in the action the very next day, losing three pilots killed. Pilot Officer Don Macdonald and Flight Lieutenant Laurie Cunningham died when we were bounced by 109s whilst still trying to gain a height advantage. Macdonald was on his first patrol and had only fifteen hours on Spitfires while Laurie Cunningham was experienced with over 160 hours. Neither knew what hit them. On our last patrol of the day we were bounced again and Pilot Officer Noel Benson was shot down. Almost certainly killed instantly by cannon fire, 'Broody' had over 160 hours on type. He had been so eager to get at the Germans but never had the chance. Experience didn't really count for much when you were bounced.

In an attempt to avoid the situation happening again, our CO, Sqn Ldr 'Uncle' George Denholm, employed a system of climbing on a reciprocal heading to that given by the controllers after take-off. Only when he believed we had gained sufficient altitude did we turn onto the heading given by the Controllers; towards the enemy.

The loss of Flying Officer Robin Waterston in combat on the 31st was a blow to the whole Squadron. He was my closest friend and the brightest character in the Squadron. We had shared sunny days with the kids at Tarfside just weeks earlier. During the day while we were airborne, our ground crew chaps had a bad time of it when Hornchurch was bombed. Four of them were killed adding to the toll. With no time to grieve we just got on with our job. We had to, we were fighting for our lives, our freedom and that of the country.

Despite the casualties, today, when I look back, I recall we also had great fun. It was an exciting time and we made the most of our opportunities to live it up. We tended to treat each occasion as if it were our last.

On 5 September, we lost a good friend and an excellent Flight Commander. Being the conscientious chap he was, Flight Lieutenant Fred 'Rusty' Rushmer had refused Uncle George's orders to rest, and exhaustion was probably a contributing factor when he was shot down and killed in combat with 109s. We had taken off from our forward base at Rochford when, at about 29,000', we spotted a number of Dorniers below us escorted by 109s. I dived to attack the bombers but was engaged by a pair of Messerschmitts. I certainly hit one as I saw glycol streaming from the radiator but in my attempt to finish him off I was fired on by another German so I broke off my attack and continued my dive.

In the heat of the battle I didn't see anything of Rusty but Bill 'Tannoy' Read later said he saw Rusty's Spitfire dive straight down vertically from altitude, through the bomber formation. He had obviously been hit.

Rusty's grave in the churchyard at All Saints, Staplehurst, Kent, was only officially confirmed as being his in 1998 (marked 'Unknown' until then). That day I was reunited with a number of my former ground crew at the rededication ceremony. Rusty made the national news 48 years after his death.

Oberleutnant Franz von Werra's Bf109 after being shot down by Stapme A short while later, during the same patrol in which Rusty lost his life, I managed to shoot down a Messerschmitt 109 which, unlike my first attack, was possible to confirm. During my dive from altitude I spotted a Spitfire at about 6,000' diving vertically, half inverted, towards the ground, it's tail shot away. I then spotted a lone 109 in the same airspace as an RAF pilot descending by parachute. I latched onto the German and pursued him at low-level over the Kent countryside. As I fired short bursts he attempted to shake me off but I could see my tracer striking his aircraft and I closed in. I remember at one stage being concerned that there was a village in my line of fire. He had nowhere to go but down and eventually force-landed in a field. I flew low over the site. The German was soon apprehended, initially by the unarmed cook from the local searchlight battery!.

Oberleutnant Franz von Werra It was a short time after the war when I learned that the pilot was Oberleutnant Franz von Werra, his exploits made famous in the book and film 'The One That Got Away', as the only German pilot to escape captivity (from Canada) during WWII and return to Germany. By all accounts he was an arrogant little man who was willing to lie to enhance his reputation. Well, he didn't get away from me!

It later transpired that the parachutist was fellow 603 pilot, Pilot Officer Robin Rafter, flying his first patrol with us. Having suffered severe head injuries after being flung from his disabled Spitfire, he subsequently spent time in hospital recovering. Sadly, he was killed during his very next patrol after rejoining the Squadron, when his Spitfire dived out of formation while we were still climbing to intercept the enemy.

I was fortunate in many ways not least of which I was never wounded and only shot down once when, on 7 September, my Spitfire was hit in combat with 109s. Having escaped the melée I managed to nurse my damaged aircraft back over the Channel, applying throttle intermittently so as not to overheat the engine, gradually losing height in the process as I neared the coast. I eventually managed to force-land in a ploughed field adjacent to a hop-garden. On climbing out of my aircraft I slid the canopy shut and turned to look for the nearest road. I spotted a couple having a picnic in the gateway to the field, their Austin Ruby saloon parked close-by. As I approached I was joined by a sergeant-pilot who had landed by parachute in a nearby orchard. The couple offered us a cup of tea and then a lift, not back to my aerodrome but to the nearest pub. What a contrast to the aerial combat in which we had been fighting for our lives just a short time before!

The official period given as the Battle of Britain is 10 July-31 October 1940 and although the air-fighting continued into 1941, by the time the Squadron returned to Scotland in December, we knew the Battle of Britain had been well and truly won.

I left 603 Squadron in April 1941 and served in various units, including flying 'Hurricats' with the MSFU, as a Flight Commander with 257 Squadron, and as an instructor at Central Gunnery School before I took over Command of No.247 (China-British) Squadron, part of 124 Wing, 2nd Tactical Air Force, flying Typhoons from beachhead code B.6, northern France in August 1944.

Stapme with a 257 Squadron Hurricane and a Great Dane at RAF High Ercall Initially the Squadron helped close the Falaise Gap but as the Allied forces moved inland, so we followed: from B.6 - Coulombs to B.68 (Amiens/Glisy), B.58 (Melsbroek) and finally (for me anyway) B.78 (Eindhoven). We also provided aerial support throughout the Arnhem campaign: Operation Market Garden.

It was a particularly intense period, moving from one makeshift airfield to another, carrying out regular ground-attack operations in support of the ground troops. Living conditions were very basic and we lived in tents most of the time when conditions were dependent on the weather. Nevertheless, we made the most of it and the spirit was good. On that note, not only did we drink the local Calvados, we also used it to fuel our Zippo lighters and hurricane lamps!

During this period we lost a lot of good pilots. Attacking the Germans at low-level meant no margin for error. If you were hit you had no time to bale out. German anti-aircraft fire was almost ever-present and we were particularly vulnerable when pulling up after an attack when you became a prime target for the German gunners. After firing my rockets I tended to stay low which worked to my advantage. We also saw the carnage on the ground at close quarters. There is no glamour war.

Luck finally ran out for me on 23 December 1944. As part of a force of 16 Typhoons from 247 and 137 Squadrons at Eindhoven, led by Wing Commander Kit North-Lewis, we were ordered to seek out fifteen plus German tanks forcing their way into the American sector.

The weather was awful and we were lucky to avoid collisions. Unable to locate the tanks we were ordered split into our individual squadrons and continue the armed reconnaissance. I spotted a train and led the attack. One of my rockets must have entered the firebox as there was a terrific explosion by my radiator was punctured as I flew through the debris. I tried to nurse my aircraft back at low level but simply ran out of height. I force-landed about 2 miles inside the German lines and was taken prisoner. I was initially taken to a rear echelon platoon HQ and from there, ironically by train, to the interrogation centre at Oberursel, near Frankfurt. I was then taken to Stalag Luft I, Barth, on the Baltic Coast where I remained until May 1945 when I was repatriated as part of Operation Exodus.

In January 1946 I received notification I had been awarded the Dutch DFC for my leadership of 247 Squadron throughout Operation Market Garden, conferred by Her Majesty The Queen of the Netherlands. There was no ceremony. I received the medal in the post!

I left the RAF in April 1946 and went to work for BOAC flying Doves, Herons and Dakotas on the West African routes until 1948 when I returned to the UK. I then emigrated to South Africa where I had a number of very different jobs but my time in Botswana was a truly wonderful period in my life and a country I refer to as 'God's Own'.

In 1994, I returned to the UK with my wife, Audrey. By 2003 my biography entitled 'Stapme' was published. Written by David Ross, together we attended many of the annual Battle of Britain commemorative functions I had missed out on during my years in South Africa. More specifically the annual Battle of Britain Fighter Association Reunions.

During research for the book I was surprised to learn that the BBMF's Supermarine Spitfire MkII, P7350, had actually been flown by pilots of 603 Squadron during the Battle of Britain!

'P7350' was first flown by Flying Officer Colin Pinckney on 17 October and for the second time on the 25th when my friend (then Pilot Officer) Ludwik Martel was shot down over Hastings. Ludwik managed to land his aircraft back at base but spent ten days in hospital recovering from shrapnel wounds to his legs when a canon shell exploded in close proximity.

Today, as a veteran of 603, I get a kick from seeing one of our veteran Spitfires displayed so ably, although it's nice to think that back then I didn't have the aircraft's longevity in-mind and wouldn't have hesitated to use full power and push the limits!

These past few years I've attended air-shows where I have met genuine enthusiasts with whom I've enjoyed many a conversation about the events of so many years ago. But, when you see this grey-haired old man at any future air shows and hear the roar of the Merlin engines of the BBMF overhead, please remember the sacrifice. Consider me sitting there, surrounded by my fresh-faced friends of 603 Squadron with whom I fought, but who didn't share my good fortune and go on to enjoy a full life. As a 20 year-old alongside them back in the early part of 1940, I had my now familiar handlebar moustache but back then it was newly-grown when us young newcomers to the unit we were very keen to look older and as experienced as the senior members of our Squadron. I have now had my handlebar moustache for 66 years and, as the RAF rules stated at the time 'the whole of the upper lip shall remain unshaven.' Not everyone adhered to that!

In remembering those pilots lost during the Battle of Britain it is also vital you pay homage to all who contributed to our victory during that Summer of 1940: the commanders, aircrews, the spirited and hard-working ground crew personnel, and many others too numerous to mention here, for it was a team effort.

And let not the revisionists of more recent times attempt to detract from what was achieved during those heady days of 1940, whether intended or otherwise. To us the German advance had to be stopped, and we, in our capacity as RAF fighter pilots, ably supported from many quarters, achieved just that. Whilst there were experienced older pilots many of us were very young, some had only just begun their university courses when they applied to become fighter pilots. Those recruited just prior to the start of the Battle were taken and taught to fly in the shortest time possible and thrust into a withering baptism of aerial combat for the first time in the RAF's latest fighters, the now legendary Hurricane and Spitfire. I suppose a comparison today would be to put a twenty year-old through the minimum flying training and ask him to fly and fight for his life in an F3 Tornado with perhaps just fifteen hours on type!

Stapme at the Battle of Britain Memorial, Capel le Ferne, Kent The Battle of Britain was a victory and probably the greatest and most significant air battle in history, and as a consequence Britain was not invaded. During the interrogation of Field Marshal von Runstedt after the end of the war, he was asked when he thought the tide had begun to turn against the Germans. Surprisingly, he replied 'The Battle of Britain.... that was the first time I realised that we were not invincible.'

The Battle of Britain attracts a great deal of attention but please take a moment to remember those RAF servicemen and women who were destined to lose their lives serving with the other Commands throughout the duration of WWII. Their sacrifice should and never will be forgotten. In that respect, the sight and sound of the BBMF Lancaster and Dakota provides us with a worthy and poignant reminder.

The Flight and it's hardworking personnel under Sqn Ldr Al Pinner continue to serve to preserve the memory of my long lost friends, an airborne memorial to the Few. I, for one, am well aware of just how much it means to them to represent such a prestigious organisation which has rightly earned international acclaim.

I have chosen a piece of contemporary poetry with which to conclude and by which I would like me and my friends to be remembered:

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.