Kiwis flew lumbering Buffaloes in defence of Singapore
May 16, 2023 16:37:40 GMT 12
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Post by Dave Homewood on May 16, 2023 16:37:40 GMT 12
An article from The Press dated the 16th of September 1981:
Kiwis flew lumbering Buffaloes in defence of Singapore
By R. A. ALEXANDER
“Forty years on” — there can be few who have not joined in this somewhat nostalgic school song. To those who sing it, 40 years into the future seems incredibly distant. Suddenly however that 40 years is gone and that distant future is the present. The poignancy of this thought will be in the minds this week of many of those who sailed from Wellington at a little after 11 a.m. on September 11, 1941 on the K.P.M. Ship S.S. Tasmain. She carried the main body of No. 488 (New Zealand) fighter squadron, R.A.F., the first complete squadron to leave this country for overseas duty. Total strength was some 125. In addition to aircrew the unit included airframe and engine fitters, armourers, radio mechanics, wireless telegraphy operators, electricians and administrators.
The squadron’s destination, R.A.F. station Kallang in Singapore, was reached between October 5 and 14, some seven weeks before Japan entered the war with its simultaneous attacks on Pearl Harbour and Singapore. After four stormy days crossing the Tasman, and four days in Sydney we sailed on S.S. Bontekoe to Surabaya via Newcastle and Bowen (Queensland) where we spent four frustrating hours sitting on the harbour mud waiting leave. Thence to Soembawa in the Dutch East Indies, and at last Sourabaya.
If this was war we loved it — twin cabins, calm seas, blue skies, the islands of the Great Barrier Reef, new scenes, new cultures and the unfailing hospitality of our Dutch hosts. Thence transhipment to another vessel, the Plancius, leaving Surabaya on October 9 and arriving on October 14 at a Singapore vastly different from that enjoyed by today's visitors. A brief truck ride and we reached Kallang, then rapidly losing its domestic airport status as the clouds of war gathered. The British Empire Airways clipper and the Singapore Flying Club were still operating but obviously phasing out. Kallang as we found it was roughly circular in shape and with a gentle rise toward the centre, a combination which was to cost the lives of two pilots within a few weeks. Accommodation was in long airy huts populated principally by mosquitoes and small inquisitive lizards. Maintenance and cleaning was handled by Chinese and conditions were indeed good. Our time over those next few weeks was devoted to an intensive programme of pilot and ground-crew training and the fitting of armourplating to the short snubnosed Brewster Buffaloes which seemed destined to comprise the principal fighter defence bf Singapore. We’d heard that there were Hawker Hurricanes coming but when, was another question. The Buffaloes did their stirling best; there were problems, accidents (one with tragic results), but training still went on.
Our first view of the prominently displayed antiaircraft guns was encouraging, until a closer inspection revealed that they were made entirely of wood and were unlikely to be of much help if we needed them. Shortly after midnight on December 8 all hell broke loose as we awoke to find the first Japanese squadrons sailing serenely overhead on their way to bomb the city of Singapore. Principal target that night seemed to be the city centre where Raffles Place was badly damaged. Seletar, the principal R.A.F. base on Singapore Island, and the naval base were also heavily bombed. We later learned that this raid coincided with the landing of Japanese forces at Khota Baru in northern Malaya and the attack on Pearl Harbour.
From then on things hotted up considerably and it was a rare day when the sirens didn’t sound, the squadrons were “scrambled" and ground staff dived for shelter. The sinking of the battleships Prince of Wales and Repulse off the coast of Malaya with the loss of so many gallant men brought home to us in no uncertain manner how desperate was the situation, how slim our air defences.
By now Kallang aerodrome was occupied by three Buffalo squadrons, 243 and 488, and a Dutch unit. About this time during an urgent scramble to get every aircraft off the ground in the face of approaching bomber forces, two pilots and their aircraft became casualties of Kallang’s layout in a direct head-on collision in the centre of the field. We had lost other aircraft and other pilots but never quite so dramatically, never in quite such an appalling impact. It was perhaps some consolation that neither belonged to 488, but this did not lessen the deep sense of shock we felt as oxygen bottles and ammunition exploded and we realised two men were still in the midst of that holocaust.
The days went by, the smoke clouds crew thicker until the entire city and aerodrome lay under a smoky' haze with deeper heavier clouds where oil tanks burned steadily.
British aircraft losses were rising under onslaught of Japanese attacks and on January 12 488 squadron lost two aircraft and five others were damaged in an action against the fast and highly manoeuverable Zeros.
Shortly afterwards the long-promised Hurricanes began to arrive and the pilots of 488 were able to even up the odds to some degree. However, before long maintenance hangars and station workshops were burnt-out skeletons, and wheel-changing became an almost continuing process as aircraft after aircraft suffered punctured tyres from the razor-sharp shrapnel which littered the airfield.
Kallang underwent a major blitz from January 22 to 27 and the filling of bomb craters became a continuing necessity. Wrecked and burned aircraft were commonplace and there was little opportunity to salvage or remove them between raids.
During this time the squadron was billeted at Telok Kurau English School some miles out of Singapore, our original accommodation being little but burned rubble.
As January drew into February it became obvious that unless a miracle happened, Singapore could not be held. We were firm believers in miracles in those dark days. We were continually expecting to see hordes of Hurricanes and Wellington bombers materialise out of nowhere. We knew that they and only they could save the day. None of us doubted for a moment that the “brass hats" had some trump card to play. If they did, they left it too late. After a while the sirens were no longer sounded to
signal an air raid. We would not have noticed them anyway. We could see and hear Japanese aircraft most of the day without having to be told they were coming. By now 488 was the only fighter squadron left at Kallang and the pilots went off, day after day, against overwhelming odds. At last there was just no effective force left and the final five aircraft flew out to Java. There was little left for ground crews and it was not long before we found ourselves settled on a riverbank with a rifle, hoping perhaps we’d see something to fire at on the opposite bank. On the morning of February 11 we received fresh orders instructing us to proceed by any available transport to the docks and board the Blue Star Line freighter Empire Star, of 11,000 tons under the command of captain Selwyn Capon, C.B.E.
The passenger list included some 2500 soldiers, sailors, nurses, airmen and civilians. Conditions could perhaps be described as something below tourist class but, let’s face it, even a coil of rope can feel like a feather bed if one needs it badly enough. Sailing at about 5 p.m., we lay off-shore overnight, watching Singapore burn and listening to the rumble and thunder of heavy guns, until 4 a.m. when we weighed anchor and headed for Java in company with three smaller vessels. Shortly after 7 a.m. a scout plane investigated the Star and her escorts and shortly afterward several flights of aircraft came over and, in lowlevel bombing attacks, scored three direct hits on the ship, killing or wounding some 30 of her passengers.
Total defensive armament comprised one Vickers machine gun and 50 or more enthusiasts armed only with rifles. After the first lowlevel sortie the ship was attacked almost continuously for 4 hours by high-level bombers. There was no doubt in the minds of any aboard that they owed their lives to the expert seamanship of the captain. It was indeed sad to learn later that Captain Capon and his ship subsequently went down during the landings in Italy.
Arriving in Batavia on the morning of January 14, the squadron was billeted in a school near Tjililitan aerodrome some eight miles from Batavia. The billet area was occupied by large numbers of R.A.F. men from many other squadrons, including our old friends of 243. Again the story was the same: the battered resources of the Dutch, reinforced by the pitifully few aircraft saved from Singapore were just not enough against the forces of Nippon, and once their troops began beach landings it could only be a matter of time.
Luck held once again for the members of 488 and the squadron sailed from the port of Tandjung Priok early in the afternoon of February 23 aboard the Blue Funnel Line freighter Deucalion, passing through the Sunda Strait during the night, illuminated for a brief spell by the flames of a burning vessel some seven miles off to starboard. Eight days later we arrived at Freemantle and eventually found our way home.
Subsequently the main body of 488 was divided up and formed the nucleus of 14 and 15 Fighter Squadrons, both of which were prominent in the early stages of the Solomons campaign.
Survivors of 488 Squadron are proud of the fact that they formed New Zealand’s first complete active service squadron, under the command of the redoubtable Squadron Leader W. G. Clouston D.F.C. and his Flight Commanders J. N. McKenzie, D.F.C., and J. R. Hutcheson. They remember this month those who did not return or who have since passed on.
Kiwis flew lumbering Buffaloes in defence of Singapore
By R. A. ALEXANDER
“Forty years on” — there can be few who have not joined in this somewhat nostalgic school song. To those who sing it, 40 years into the future seems incredibly distant. Suddenly however that 40 years is gone and that distant future is the present. The poignancy of this thought will be in the minds this week of many of those who sailed from Wellington at a little after 11 a.m. on September 11, 1941 on the K.P.M. Ship S.S. Tasmain. She carried the main body of No. 488 (New Zealand) fighter squadron, R.A.F., the first complete squadron to leave this country for overseas duty. Total strength was some 125. In addition to aircrew the unit included airframe and engine fitters, armourers, radio mechanics, wireless telegraphy operators, electricians and administrators.
The squadron’s destination, R.A.F. station Kallang in Singapore, was reached between October 5 and 14, some seven weeks before Japan entered the war with its simultaneous attacks on Pearl Harbour and Singapore. After four stormy days crossing the Tasman, and four days in Sydney we sailed on S.S. Bontekoe to Surabaya via Newcastle and Bowen (Queensland) where we spent four frustrating hours sitting on the harbour mud waiting leave. Thence to Soembawa in the Dutch East Indies, and at last Sourabaya.
If this was war we loved it — twin cabins, calm seas, blue skies, the islands of the Great Barrier Reef, new scenes, new cultures and the unfailing hospitality of our Dutch hosts. Thence transhipment to another vessel, the Plancius, leaving Surabaya on October 9 and arriving on October 14 at a Singapore vastly different from that enjoyed by today's visitors. A brief truck ride and we reached Kallang, then rapidly losing its domestic airport status as the clouds of war gathered. The British Empire Airways clipper and the Singapore Flying Club were still operating but obviously phasing out. Kallang as we found it was roughly circular in shape and with a gentle rise toward the centre, a combination which was to cost the lives of two pilots within a few weeks. Accommodation was in long airy huts populated principally by mosquitoes and small inquisitive lizards. Maintenance and cleaning was handled by Chinese and conditions were indeed good. Our time over those next few weeks was devoted to an intensive programme of pilot and ground-crew training and the fitting of armourplating to the short snubnosed Brewster Buffaloes which seemed destined to comprise the principal fighter defence bf Singapore. We’d heard that there were Hawker Hurricanes coming but when, was another question. The Buffaloes did their stirling best; there were problems, accidents (one with tragic results), but training still went on.
Our first view of the prominently displayed antiaircraft guns was encouraging, until a closer inspection revealed that they were made entirely of wood and were unlikely to be of much help if we needed them. Shortly after midnight on December 8 all hell broke loose as we awoke to find the first Japanese squadrons sailing serenely overhead on their way to bomb the city of Singapore. Principal target that night seemed to be the city centre where Raffles Place was badly damaged. Seletar, the principal R.A.F. base on Singapore Island, and the naval base were also heavily bombed. We later learned that this raid coincided with the landing of Japanese forces at Khota Baru in northern Malaya and the attack on Pearl Harbour.
From then on things hotted up considerably and it was a rare day when the sirens didn’t sound, the squadrons were “scrambled" and ground staff dived for shelter. The sinking of the battleships Prince of Wales and Repulse off the coast of Malaya with the loss of so many gallant men brought home to us in no uncertain manner how desperate was the situation, how slim our air defences.
By now Kallang aerodrome was occupied by three Buffalo squadrons, 243 and 488, and a Dutch unit. About this time during an urgent scramble to get every aircraft off the ground in the face of approaching bomber forces, two pilots and their aircraft became casualties of Kallang’s layout in a direct head-on collision in the centre of the field. We had lost other aircraft and other pilots but never quite so dramatically, never in quite such an appalling impact. It was perhaps some consolation that neither belonged to 488, but this did not lessen the deep sense of shock we felt as oxygen bottles and ammunition exploded and we realised two men were still in the midst of that holocaust.
The days went by, the smoke clouds crew thicker until the entire city and aerodrome lay under a smoky' haze with deeper heavier clouds where oil tanks burned steadily.
British aircraft losses were rising under onslaught of Japanese attacks and on January 12 488 squadron lost two aircraft and five others were damaged in an action against the fast and highly manoeuverable Zeros.
Shortly afterwards the long-promised Hurricanes began to arrive and the pilots of 488 were able to even up the odds to some degree. However, before long maintenance hangars and station workshops were burnt-out skeletons, and wheel-changing became an almost continuing process as aircraft after aircraft suffered punctured tyres from the razor-sharp shrapnel which littered the airfield.
Kallang underwent a major blitz from January 22 to 27 and the filling of bomb craters became a continuing necessity. Wrecked and burned aircraft were commonplace and there was little opportunity to salvage or remove them between raids.
During this time the squadron was billeted at Telok Kurau English School some miles out of Singapore, our original accommodation being little but burned rubble.
As January drew into February it became obvious that unless a miracle happened, Singapore could not be held. We were firm believers in miracles in those dark days. We were continually expecting to see hordes of Hurricanes and Wellington bombers materialise out of nowhere. We knew that they and only they could save the day. None of us doubted for a moment that the “brass hats" had some trump card to play. If they did, they left it too late. After a while the sirens were no longer sounded to
signal an air raid. We would not have noticed them anyway. We could see and hear Japanese aircraft most of the day without having to be told they were coming. By now 488 was the only fighter squadron left at Kallang and the pilots went off, day after day, against overwhelming odds. At last there was just no effective force left and the final five aircraft flew out to Java. There was little left for ground crews and it was not long before we found ourselves settled on a riverbank with a rifle, hoping perhaps we’d see something to fire at on the opposite bank. On the morning of February 11 we received fresh orders instructing us to proceed by any available transport to the docks and board the Blue Star Line freighter Empire Star, of 11,000 tons under the command of captain Selwyn Capon, C.B.E.
The passenger list included some 2500 soldiers, sailors, nurses, airmen and civilians. Conditions could perhaps be described as something below tourist class but, let’s face it, even a coil of rope can feel like a feather bed if one needs it badly enough. Sailing at about 5 p.m., we lay off-shore overnight, watching Singapore burn and listening to the rumble and thunder of heavy guns, until 4 a.m. when we weighed anchor and headed for Java in company with three smaller vessels. Shortly after 7 a.m. a scout plane investigated the Star and her escorts and shortly afterward several flights of aircraft came over and, in lowlevel bombing attacks, scored three direct hits on the ship, killing or wounding some 30 of her passengers.
Total defensive armament comprised one Vickers machine gun and 50 or more enthusiasts armed only with rifles. After the first lowlevel sortie the ship was attacked almost continuously for 4 hours by high-level bombers. There was no doubt in the minds of any aboard that they owed their lives to the expert seamanship of the captain. It was indeed sad to learn later that Captain Capon and his ship subsequently went down during the landings in Italy.
Arriving in Batavia on the morning of January 14, the squadron was billeted in a school near Tjililitan aerodrome some eight miles from Batavia. The billet area was occupied by large numbers of R.A.F. men from many other squadrons, including our old friends of 243. Again the story was the same: the battered resources of the Dutch, reinforced by the pitifully few aircraft saved from Singapore were just not enough against the forces of Nippon, and once their troops began beach landings it could only be a matter of time.
Luck held once again for the members of 488 and the squadron sailed from the port of Tandjung Priok early in the afternoon of February 23 aboard the Blue Funnel Line freighter Deucalion, passing through the Sunda Strait during the night, illuminated for a brief spell by the flames of a burning vessel some seven miles off to starboard. Eight days later we arrived at Freemantle and eventually found our way home.
Subsequently the main body of 488 was divided up and formed the nucleus of 14 and 15 Fighter Squadrons, both of which were prominent in the early stages of the Solomons campaign.
Survivors of 488 Squadron are proud of the fact that they formed New Zealand’s first complete active service squadron, under the command of the redoubtable Squadron Leader W. G. Clouston D.F.C. and his Flight Commanders J. N. McKenzie, D.F.C., and J. R. Hutcheson. They remember this month those who did not return or who have since passed on.
