Spitfire Mark I P9374

The Remarkable Story of How A Unique Aircraft Returned to Flight

By Andy Saunders

Grub Street

Copyright © 2012 Andy Saunders
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-908117-06-9

Contents

Acknowledgement,
Foreword,
Introduction,
1. Ghost of The Sands,
2. Emergence,
3. Identification,
4. P9374 in Action,
5. P9374’s Pilots and Operational History,
6. In Dead Men’s Shoes,
7. From Recovery to Re-Discovery,
8. The Search,
9. Reconstruction,
10. The Rolls-Royce Merlin III,
11. The De Havilland Propeller – Mission Impossible,
12. Warpaint,
13. Into The Air,
Appendix,
I. Spitfire I Technical Specifications,
II. Follow-Up Test Flying,
III. Aircraft Movement Card for P9374,
IV. Engine History,
V. Milestones in the History of P9374,
VI. Paint Specifications,
VII. All Known Recorded Flights by P9374,
VIII. All Known Recorded Flights by Fg Off Cazenove,
IX. All Known Victory Claims by 92 Sqn 23/24 May 1940,
X. Two for the Future?,
P9372,
P9373,
Selected Bibliography,
Index,

CHAPTER 1

GHOST OF THE SANDS

The worldwide quest for wrecks and relics of World War Two aircraft had undoubtedly gathered a great deal of momentum during the early 1970s, perhaps spurred on in part by the 1969 release of the epic film Battle of Britain, but also in equal measure by the enthusiasm of a new generation who had not participated in the conflict of 1939-45 and were now outgrowing their Airfix kits and war comics. Suddenly, the possibility of finding and recovering tangible relics from that period opened up a whole new vista. A veritable craze for hunting aircraft wrecks sprang up around the globe, although in the UK and Europe this was mostly just a case of salvaging the often rather pathetic and battered shards from crash sites where aircraft had fallen to earth. A few were found rather more intact in coastal waters, although corrosion and the difficulty of salvage usually meant that they remained in situ. On the other hand, rather more substantial sections of aircraft could still be found on mountains and high ground in the UK – left at the places they had crashed simply because wartime salvage had proved too difficult if not impossible. Nevertheless, even these wrecks were no more than twisted hulks of partial airframes or engines and invariably in very poor condition by virtue of the nature of impact and their long exposure to the elements. Further afield, however, virtually complete wrecks were being found in jungles on Pacific islands with many such aircraft being discovered, for example, in Papua New Guinea. The enthusiasts of the UK and Europe could only look on enviously at these exciting finds on the other side of the world and content themselves with grubbing battered engines and propellers out of marsh and moorland. The likelihood of an ‘intact’ airframe discovery in north-west Europe seemed more than remote. All of that changed, however, during the summer of 1980.

During the early autumn of that year the author received an unexpected telephone call from a Monsieur Jean Louf who was manager of the Calais Hoverport and also a private pilot. Having heard of the author’s knowledge and interest in matters appertaining to the wrecks of wartime aircraft, he wanted to know if there might be any interest in a complete Spitfire wreck which he said had been found on the beach at Calais. At first, it was difficult to comprehend the fact that what Jean Louf had described as a ‘complete Spitfire’ could possibly have been found there. Indeed, how could a complete Spitfire suddenly be ‘found’ on a French beach near Calais? Whilst this was not exactly a notable tourist region it was, nevertheless, a well visited beach close to significant centres of population. Even if it had emerged from the sea at an unusually low tide why had its presence not been known before? Surely, it would have been seen before now? At the very least someone would have been aware that it was there and word would have long ago spread in the enthusiast world. It was difficult if not impossible to comprehend that a Spitfire that apparently still very much looked like a Spitfire, and even with its cockpit canopy supposedly still in place, could suddenly have come to light.

Fanciful stories about such discoveries certainly surface from time to time and it seemed likely that this was all that had happened here; ie a du coq á l’ âne (cock and bull) story and not a Spitfire. Having shown polite interest in Jean Louf’s story, the author nevertheless agreed that he would certainly like to see the local newspaper reports about the Spitfire wreck which were to be published imminently, but fully expecting they would at best show a battered and corroded Rolls-Royce Merlin engine and perhaps a few pieces of otherwise unidentifiable airframe. Nothing could have quite prepared the author, or the historic aviation world at large, for the stunning images that ultimately appeared in the French regional newspaper Nord Littoral of 16 September 1980. Quite simply, and just like Jean Louf’s original report, they were nigh-on unbelievable.

Under the headline: ‘Out of the Sand after Forty Years’ the newspaper ran the following piece of editorial, explaining that the wreck had first been sighted on the beach at Waldam, Calais, by two local beach-combers, Monsieur Barbas and Monsieur Duquenoy. Barbas said:

“The wreckage of the fighter was about a kilometre from the Phare de Walde lighthouse just to the north of Calais. The carcass of the fighter was seen from afar with the tail, cockpit and right wing of the aeroplane clearly visible where it had emerged through the sand.

“Whilst the rear tail of the plane is in pretty good shape, part of the right wing is peeling off. The left wing of the aircraft is intact and certainly still buried in the sand.

“The cockpit of the aircraft was filled with sand and silt, to just below the cockpit sill. Just behind the position of the pilot’s seat there is a support bracket for the radio antennae made from Bakelite and this is entirely undamaged. It is the same with the internal structures of the wings which are still present including some of the electrical circuits. The armament of the aircraft, particularly the machine gun located in the part of the wing that has emerged, has disappeared.

“The engine is relatively well preserved, especially some stainless steel parts which are still intact and still protected by their original grease forty years after they went for their long swim. The engine casing itself clearly shows the name of the manufacturer – Rolls-Royce.

“This indication suggests that this carcass is that of an aircraft likely to be a British Spitfire Mk IX [sic] as many of this type and mark were brought down in our coastal area during the last war

“After having been revealed to daylight thanks to the tidal action of the channel, this carcass of a Spitfire (which was last seen approximately 25 years ago) will ultimately be entirely covered by the sand once more. This is the same sand which, since 1940, has protected the Spitfire from damage by the sea.”

If this editorial made for mouth-watering reading back in England, the images published with this short story certainly made for eye-popping viewing. Just as Jean Louf had described, and just as Nord Littoral had reported, this was indeed a pretty much intact Spitfire. Whilst only portions of airframe were protruding above the sand, those bits that could be seen were distinctively and very unmistakably Spitfire. What was perhaps more exciting, though, was that much of the airframe remained invisible and was clearly buried in the sand and was, most probably, in quite good condition.

There could be no doubting that this was certainly a significantly complete Spitfire. And it was sitting on a shoreline visible from the English coast and only a few hundred yards from the outskirts of Calais. Unfortunately, its location very close to this centre of population and its exposure in the local news media, as well as to the natural elements, were not to help its continuing intact survival over the coming weeks. The predictions of the Nord Littoral as to its imminent descent back into the sand may well have ended up being accurate, but it was a lamentable fact that the Spitfire would surely disappear from view somewhat substantially less intact than when mother nature had delivered it up. It was this fact, perhaps, that led Jean Louf to consider other options.

Certainly, when the Spitfire had first emerged the only visible and obvious damage al-ready caused to the airframe had been the sawing-off of one of the propeller blades that had, at one time, protruded two or three feet above the sand. Quite possibly this had been cut off by a souvenir-hunting German soldier, although it is more likely it had been removed postwar because it presented a hazard to small marine craft and an obstruction for local fishermen. Either way, it had clearly been one blade of a three-bladed metal propeller and this certainly ruled out the suggestion by Nord Littoral that this was a Spitfire Mk IX. Not only were Spitfire IX propeller blades more likely to be made of wood but, more importantly, they would always have been four-bladed assemblies. This Spitfire had a three-bladed metal De Havilland propeller telling us that this was most likely a Mk I or a Mk V. Certainly, any number of Marks I through V had been lost in this general area -especially during the heavy fighting of 1940 and then on into the RAF Fighter Command ‘Circus’ offensive of 1941. For the time being, though, its precise history eluded investigators and enthusiasts.

However, at the rate the wreck was being smashed about by casual souvenir hunters there would surely be little left with which to identify its history before the Spitfire slipped back under the sands as had been predicted. Already the outboard starboard Browning .303 machine gun had been crudely hacked out of its mounting bay, resulting in the ‘peeling away’ of the wing described by the newspaper reports. The passage of a few more tides, and doubtless the actions of visitors standing on the Spitfire’s eliptical wing-tip, eventually caused the wing to break and fail at the weakened point of the gun bay – evidence clearly visible in a series of pictures taken of the emerging wreck. Thus far, though, the plundering of the wreck had been by curious locals and casual beach walkers. In those pre-internet days word had not yet spread particularly far and wide, and it was only the author and a close circle of contacts who evidently knew about the wreck outside the immediate environs of Calais. All the same, the Prefecture of Pas de Calais as well as the local Mairie and other authorities in Calais were all singularly disinterested in the Spitfire, its protection or its longer term conservation. Whilst a rather more enlightened and protective stance might now be taken in the twenty-first century, it was different in 1980. Here was just another piece of war debris with which France was liberally endowed. It simply didn’t matter that much.

Over the winter of 1980/81 the wreck showed further signs of being pillaged and was seriously deteriorating through the actions of tide and weather. The tip of the rudder had been pulled off or been washed away, ancillaries had been removed from the engine and the stainless steel ‘hoops’ of the sliding cockpit canopy were no longer visible and had probably been taken. Somebody had also set about the rocker box covers, smashing one of them to pieces – probably in order to remove the embossed Rolls-Royce inscription. Additionally, someone had completely removed the previously intact propeller spinner cone. Whether it was through the actions of mother nature, deliberate souvenir hunting or just wanton vandalism (or any combination of the three) the condition of this relatively intact Spitfire was degrading extremely rapidly. Jean Louf’s mind was made up. There was only one course of action; recovery.

CHAPTER 2

EMERGENCE

The recovery of any wartime aircraft wreck, and particularly a substantially complete machine like the Calais Spitfire, requires a good deal of planning and organisation in order to execute the operation efficiently and safely. Even the simplest of recoveries can end up being surprisingly complex. Logistics, legalities and a hundred-and-one other factors need to be taken into account. In fact, it is generally accepted that the recovery of a complete or near complete aircraft is often the easy part. What happens to the wreck post-recovery is invariably the challenge. Where will it be stored or exhibited? How will it be stabilised from any ongoing corrosion? How will its future conservation be addressed? Such are the questions and problems facing the RAF Museum with the potential retrieval of a near-intact Dornier 17-Z from underwater on the Goodwin Sands, even as this book is being written. Unfortunately, in the case of the Calais Spitfire, none of these factors seem to have been properly thought through. Perhaps it was just the desire to save the aircraft from further looting, or to prevent its imminent loss back to the sea, that prompted what can only be described as a hurried and rather brutal recovery that got underway on 9 January 1981.

Led by Jean Louf, a party of enthusiasts and helpers associated with the Calais Hoverport took a mechanical excavator out across the hard sand at low tide and commenced the recovery operation. The plan was simple. First, dig away some of the sand around the aircraft and remove the sand from above the port wing. Then, attach cables to the engine and propeller and simply drag the entire Spitfire out of its resting place and haul it up the beach behind the mechanical excavator. The plan was then to tow the aircraft on its belly up the concrete hovercraft ramp just a few hundred yards to the south of the crash site. Needless to say, it didn’t exactly work out like that.

During its long sojurn, and when it had sunk ever deeper, the Spitfire had naturally filled completely with sand and this was now packed tightly into every internal crevice of even the parts now exposed above the sand. As a rough guide it may be considered that one cubic metre of wet sand would weigh in at between 1,922kg and 2,082kg, and even dry sand would weigh a collosal 1,602kg per cubic metre. This aeroplane, clearly, was packed with very many cubic metres of heavy sand – in the fuselage, cockpit, engine bay, wings and tail. Everywhere was stuffed tightly with the wet muddy sand and even objects and equipment within the structure such as air bottles and fuel tanks, as well as all the Spitfire’s smallest fixtures and fittings had, in turn, been filled with saturated sand and water. Consequently, the all-up weight of an early mark Spitfire (around 2,400kg) was now increased by a massive factor and the strain upon an old airframe, already weakened by corrosion, was huge. Indeed, and somewhat astonishingly, each internal cubic metre of the aeroplane that was filled with sand now weighed not very far short of the all-up weight of the in-service aeroplane itself! Certainly, the strain upon a factory-fresh Spitfire hypothetically filled with dry sand would almost surely have been sufficient to cause significant damage and failure to its structure.

Imagine, then, the strains placed upon an already weakened airframe filled with many tonnes of wet sand. Added to that, there would have been a huge and almost incalculable element of suction from the cloying sand and mud around the Spitfire; a force that would have been unwilling easily to release its prisoner of four decades. Whilst the Spitfire looked and essentially was intact it was only thus because the wet sand inside (and thus the airframe skinning) was being supported by the wet sand outside. In effect, it was only intact because it remained where it was. To remove the aeroplane and to maintain any chance that it would maintain its structural integrity and stay looking anything like a Spitfire, it was essential that the wet sand would have to be removed first. All of it.

To the author, and without even looking at any figures, it was clearly apparent that when the Spitfire first appeared on the surface, the weight problem was one that would have to be overcome if any proper salvage attempt were to be made. The difficulties had presented themselves to the author in a practical demonstration when he had only just recently helped to recover from the beach at Pevensey Bay in East Sussex just one half of one of the horizontal stabilizers (tail-planes) of a B-17 Flying Fortress that had crashed there in September 1943.

Like the Spitfire, this airframe part was also buried in the sand. Despite efforts to dig it out and move it, it still took twelve men to struggle and strain, very slowly, up the beach with the weighty object over a period of a few hours. When the compacted wet sand was finally flushed out it was found that the entire assembly could be lifted, and quite easily, by just one man and with one hand! So, with the external suction and the internal weight that had to be overcome, any prospect of recovering an intact Spitfire using the methods proposed had to be remote to say the very least. Given the problems associated with the weight of wet sand therefore, the author cautioned Jean Louf against any hasty operation to get the Spitfire off the beach. These were factors that were not taken properly into account, if at all, when the recovery did eventually begin. The consequences, unfortunately, were inevitable and catastrophic upon the continuing integrity of the airframe.

(Continues…)Excerpted from Spitfire Mark I P9374 by Andy Saunders. Copyright © 2012 Andy Saunders. Excerpted by permission of Grub Street.
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