February 7th: Douglas Bader rejoins the RAF
February
7th marked the day in which Sir Douglas Bader re-joined the Royal
Air Force after a life-threatening injury nine years previously in which he
lost both of his legs. Now a paraplegic, Bader was deployed with No. 19
Squadron in 1940. His career saw him defend British skies during the Battle of
Britain, and later tormenting Luftwaffe operations in Northern France. In 1941
the London-born pilot was awarded a bar to the Distinguished Flying Cross and
is accredited for 23 aerial victories.
It is not just Bader’s impressive
combat record that has made Bader Britain’s most famous Second World War pilot,
many were in fact better than Douglas - Johnnie Johnson racked up 34 individual
victories. Rather, it is the man that Bader was which explains so much of his
fame. A man of unequivocal self-belief and a confidence that regularly
spilled-over into an unchecked arrogance, it is not serendipitous that Bader
wrote his own history. This is not the story of the humble British hero graced in
modesty and humility – rather it is the opposite, and it inevitably traces back
to Bader’s childhood.
As a young child Douglas was forsaken
by his parents – who had moved to India for his father’s work – and was cared
for by his uncle and aunty. Upon returning from India, Bader’s father joined
the Royal Engineers, where he fought and died in the Great War as a Major in
1917. Bader’s mother remarried a Yorkshire-based Reverend shortly after.
Throughout his upbringing Bader’s mother refused to show her son much loving
attention, preferring Douglas’ siblings to him. Coupled with this, Bader’s quiet
stepfather was not the father-figure he so desired. When of age, he was readily
shipped off to boarding school where he adopted his own family. Bader excelled
academically and in sport – going on to play fly half for Harlequins and would
have likely received international honours if it were not for the outbreak of
war. On the subject of sport, the tin-legged Bader also reduced his golf
handicap to just 2 in the years after the war.
Bader’s love affair with flying came
to fruition when his uncle attained him a place in the academy at RAF Cranwell
in 1928. Douglas immediately excelled as an aerobatic pilot, however his
overconfidence quickly brought him back down to earth (quite literally). In
December 1931 Bader again disobeyed the RAF’s low flying rules – now routine
for the young Brit. In an attempt to impress a civilian pilot, Bader performed
a slow roll which saw his left wing clip the ground, sending himself and his
aircraft careering head over heels through the hedgerows of southern England. Amazingly
still alive, Bader had both legs amputated and was told he’d never fly again.
The news devastated the young pilot.
After teaching himself to walk again, Bader loathed his new desk job to the
point of depression, and was desperate to be at the controls of an aircraft
again. Alas, for Douglas, the War could not have come sooner. Desperate for
pilots, in 1939 the RAF Review Board passed him as fit to fly and on the 7th
of February 1940 Bader joined No. 19 Squadron flying Spitfires. Later transferred
to No. 222 Squadron as Flight Commander, Bader’s egotistical, do-or-die
approach to flying and life in general, made him an instant hit amongst fellow
pilots and was without doubt a natural leader.
One story of Bader stands out
amongst the many. Whilst commanding the Tangmere Wing, a chap by the name of
Hugh ‘Cocky’ Dundas remembers how Bader brilliantly settled the nerves of sixty
fighter pilots ready to intercept an enormous force of Luftwaffe aircraft
surging towards them in September 1940. Typical of his bitter humour and
unshakeable self-confidence, Bader broke the eerie silence, radioing back to
base asking them to arrange a game of squash with a friend for when he got
back. As Dundas recalls ‘it was extraordinary enough that a man with tin legs
should have been thinking about squash in any circumstances. That he should be
doing so while leading three squadrons of Hurricanes and two of Spitfires into
battle against the Luftwaffe was more extraordinary. Here, quite clearly, was a
man made in the mould of Francis Drake – a man to be followed, a man who would
win.’
However, Bader’s luck was up when he
was shot down (or as he puts it, due to a mid-air collision with a German
fighter) over France in August 1941. Again, lucky to survive, Bader was
imprisoned in German PoW camps across occupied France. Celebrated by the book
and film Reach For The Sky, Bader was
a nuisance for his captors. Protected by his name, Bader made several attempts to
escape, aided fellow inmates in their attempts, and regular played pranks on
the prison guards – think the class clown, but in a PoW camp. Famously, Bader
was then transferred to the notorious Colditz Castle, Germany’s highest-security
prison, where Bader played out the his days up to his usual tricks until the it
was liberated in April 1945. Nevertheless, even at Colditz, Bader’s reputation
saw him treated as a celebrity prisoner. At least on one occasion, he dined
with German high ranking staff who were keen to meet the infamous RAF Ace, Douglas
Bader. In true style, Bader fashioned relationships with his German
counterparts, most famously befriending Adolf Galland, the German fighter Ace,
and friends they remained in their old age.
Bader’s
story is a remarkable one, but for reasons not typical of other flying aces of
his time. I’d like to think Bader epitomises those qualities as a British
people we hold in such high regard. His legacy is one defined by sheer grit,
determination, and, above all, a confidence in oneself. Despite dividing the opinion
of those who knew him, John Nichol’s Spitfire
speaks of how he inspired those around him, and regularly, often armed just
with his presence, put his comrades somewhat at ease before entering the deadliest
theatre of war there was. Even when imprisoned, Bader’s foolhardiness and innate
refusal to roll over and die, further compounded his legacy as Britain’s most extraordinary
World War Two Spitfire pilot.
Wing
Commander Douglas Bader, the World War II fighter pilot with tin legs, was an embodiment
of the human spirit. Undoubtedly haunted by his own demons, his approach to
life and flying was tenacious and unforgiving, and all done with a mental
fortitude like no other.
