they could, but I was meant to be a pilot, not a
spectator.
So I made a formal request to be transferred to a training
course forTSR aircraft, which stood for Torpedo Spotter and
Reconnaissance. I went north to another naval shore-based
establishment, HMS Sanderling atAbbotsinch, which has
now become Glasgow airport. Here I was taught how to dive-bomb,
drop depth-charges and launch torpedoes into the
Firth of Clyde off the Isle of Arran.
I often decide on a course of action and then wonder
whether I have made a mistake, and I certainly felt that at
HMS Sanderling. The problem was not the course; it was the
aircraft I was flying. I was piloting the slowest pre-war
biplane still in front-line service. I refer of course to the Fairey
Swordfish. This aircraft seemed like a hangover from the
1920s, although it had actually come into service in 1936. It
was a biplane, and it had all the struts and wires reminiscent
of the First World War planes like theAvro 504 that had first
excited my interest in flying. But the Battle of Britain was
being fought by fast monoplanes – Hurricanes andSpitfires.
They were all metal, whereas the greater part of the
Swordfish, the wings and the rear fuselage, were canvas
covered. It was powered by a single radial engine that gave it
a top speed of barely 110 miles an hour. The Spitfire could
manage over 300 quite easily. The Swordfish was a big aircraft,
with a crew of three. The pilot sat in a forward open
cockpit, which was high above the centre line and gave a good
field of view. Behind was another cockpit, set slightly lower in
the fuselage, in which there was first the observer/navigator;
then behind him the telegraphist air gunner, or TAG, who
worked the radio and could fire a rear-pointed drum-fed
Lewis gun. Apart from this, there was a forward-firing
machine gun mounted in the fuselage behind the engine. The
huge wing area gave the Swordfish the ability to carry a bomb
load of almost 2,000lb, which was impressive for a single-engined
plane. It was manoeuvrable at slow speed and could
pull out of a dive without any trouble.
I felt that I was riding a carthorse instead of a steeplechaser
at first, but the more I flew it, the more I began to appreciate
its qualities. It was nicknamed the 'Stringbag'. Several reasons
are given for this, the most obvious being that at first glance
it looks as though it is held together by string. This is
deceptive. The main struts were made out of stainless steel,
the rigging was very strong steel cable, and the frames were
made of steel and duralumin, an aluminium alloy produced
for aircraft production. No, I believe the Stringbag got its
name because, like the old lady's shopping bag, it expanded to
accommodate whatever was demanded of it. It carried bombs,
depth-charges, torpedoes, smoke flares, and they even
mounted sixteen rockets under the wings in the later stages of
the war. There are stories of some squadrons moving rapidly
from airstrip to airstrip in the desert in North Africa, securing
motorbikes underneath the fuselage of their Swordfish and
then carrying them to a new location. It was a tough plane
and could take an awful lot of damage, as many aircrew were
to discover and be grateful for. Its low speed was also an asset,
it seemed, as our instructors told stories of Swordfish in theNorwegian campaign being attacked by Messerschmitt 109s.
The British pilots employed the tactic of making 180-degree
turns at sea level towards the attacking plane. The Swordfish
had a much smaller turning circle than any fast fighter, and
moreover it had such an advantageous lift ratio that you
could reduce its speed to just 70 knots in the turn and it
would continue on a perfect line. Most planes need more
power to complete a turn, but not the Swordfish. The hapless
Messerschmitt pilot would not know why his target had
suddenly disappeared from view as he sped past.
During my time at Abbotsinch I was able to meet up with
some of the friends I had made since entering