John Gordon Pattison. 1917-2009. R.I.P.

[angelsonefive]

John Pattison, Battle of Britain Spitfire pilot with 266 and 92 Squadrons, later a CO of 485 (NZ) Squadron, passed away last Friday.

[stu]

www.stuff.co.nz/national/2864025/NZ-Battle-of-Britain-veteran-John-Pattison-dies

NZ Battle of Britain veteran John Pattison dies
_NZPA

Squadron Leader John Pattison, one of the few remaining New Zealanders who flew in the Battle of Britain, has died in Hastings at the age of 92.

Shot down by an enemy fighter during the battle and badly wounded, he recovered to have a distinguished war and be made a member of the Distinguished Service Order (DSO) and win the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) and France's Legion d'Honneur.

He also commanded 485 (NZ) Spitfire Squadron late in the war.

Mr Pattison, who worked on his father's Waipawa farm pre-war, learned to fly on Tiger Moths at Bridge Pa, Hastings, and had logged just 20 hours when World War 2 began.

He volunteered immediately and after getting his wings in April 1940 and commission the following month sailed for England in June 1940.

Desperately short of pilots as the Battle of Britain developed, Mr Pattison and others like him were rushed through training by the Royal Air Force and posted to active squadrons.

Mr Pattison had just three hours on a Miles Master trainer and then the briefest conversion course on Spitfires, before joining 266 Squadron on August 27 at the height of the battle.

Thrown in against hordes of enemy aircraft, Pattison's squadron became split up on his first operational flight and the New Zealander became lost over the Thames Estuary.

He eventually tacked on to a Hurricane but ran out of fuel and made a wheels up landing on a field bristling with anti-invasion obstacles.

Mr Pattison was greeting by pitchfork-wielding farmers who thought he was a German.

Posted later to 92 Squadron at Biggin Hill, Mr Pattison was soon shot down by a Messerschmitt 109 and badly wounded by a cannon shell in the thigh and spent the next eight months in hospital.

In June 1941 Mr Pattison was posted to a training unit in Wales as an instructor but notched a black mark when he flew under the Severn railway bridge and lost three months seniority as a penalty.

In April 1942 he joined 485, one of the three squadrons in the Kenley Wing. Late that month while escorting Hurricane bombers attacking Calais, 485 was jumped by a large force of Focke-Wulf 190s and lost four Spitfires.

Mr Pattison's engine was hit and knocked out by a cannon shell and his cockpit filled with smoke.

He glided his stricken fighter across the Channel, baled out near the English coast and was rescued 90 minutes later.

After a year flying attacks over France, Mr Pattison was posted as a chief flying instructor, then joined 66 Squadron flying Spitfire IXs equipped with bombs which were used in attacking V-weapon launch sites, in the pre-invasion offensive and as cover on the D-Day landings.

In September 1944, Mr Pattison was named commanding officer of 485 Squadron, the third last of 10 485 COs. He led the New Zealanders until February 1945.

Mr Pattison returned to New Zealand in January 1946 with a record of two enemy aircraft destroyed and many ground vehicles to his credit.

He farmed for the rest of his working life in Waipawa before retiring to Havelock North.

Of his wartime flying Mr Pattison told an aviation researcher in 1993: "Wonderful times to have lived through and fantastic mates."

He recovered completely from his thigh wound but in 1993 he had a cataract operation on his right eye that his surgeon thought was caused by a metal splinter "from the exhaust of my Spitfire when coming in to land."

John Gordon Pattison, born in Waipawa January 27, 1917, and educated at Wanganui Collegiate, died on Friday. He is survived by his wife, four sons and their families.

[Dave Homewood]

That is very sad, the passing of another of our great heroes. RIP Sir.

[Andy Wright]

A very active wartime career. Deserving of every honour. RIP.

[John L]

Just thought this post from a bike site I frequent was quite eloquent

Salute
I stood up from my desk at 11:45am and announced to a room full of people with their bored heads in their boring work that I was heading out into the brilliant sunshine to wave goodbye to an old warrior and watch a Mk IX Spitfire fly over the city in tribute to both Sqn Ldr John Pattison, who died yesterday, and "our" Spitfire squadron of WWII, 485 Sqn.

A couple of heads went up at the mention of the word "Spitfire", however the pall of apathy and disbelief took me aback.

I remember when the WWI vets started hitting that decade in age between 80 and 90, where the misadventures of a life well lived tend to catch up with otherwise healthy men. Discussing war with men of this generation was strictly forbidden. Talking about first wives killed by an influenza epidemic that resonates so strongly through history that the world's medical professionals jump at any hint of an influenza mutation, prepared to treat 100s of millions and bury 10s of millions is also not just forbidden it was usually silenced with a good clip around the ear.

The WWII vets have hit the same wall, a wall that for all its wispy substance exists for everyone. We look back at them and wonder at the things these men were forced to do and some women chose to do and think of those people as somehow bigger than us, more special, their shadow diminishing all who stand in it, but I can tell you that not one of those men I have been privileged to speak with would go through that again, would chose to throw themselves into that particular crucible so willingly.

They were changed and few would say it was for the better. My Grandfather was a Commando, a little man, not 5'5" in height, but tough as old boots, and he was happiest in NZ, living in Tauranga, wrestling with the local council about the things that get OAPs excited, and trying to force an equitable arrangement from the NZ Government in regard to making them pay the UK 's Military pension directly to those who were due it rather than simply keeping it to offset the cost of relocating so many of the UK's servicemen to NZ nearly 50 years ago. They paid tax in NZ until they retired, and the service pensions were earned putting their lives on the line, not working for the Gas company in NZ.

My wife's favourite Great Uncle died recently. He was someone I could call a mate. He was a laugh, and he was what we called a "Conchy" in WWII, a conscientious objector who worked as a Medic at a prison camp for Japanese PoWs at a place called Featherston, not far from Wellington where I live now. He was there when the Japanese prisoners rioted after a guard panicked and shot and killed a PoW. He ran into the ensuing gunfire and pulled Japanese PoWs out of the line of fire and treated them while under fire from his own colleagues. It took me 12 years to get that paragraph out of him.

So I watched this Spitfire Mk IX, this indescribably beautiful war machine inscribe its graceful imprint on my skies, more than 60 years after it ceased to operate in its prime role. I thought about 485 Sqn trying to deliver ordinance on V-Weapon sites prior to D-Day and how horribly inappropriate it is think so one dimensionally about these people who were doing what they were taught was right, without question, principle before personal safety. 485 Sqn participated in operations in Northern Europe like D-Day, Operation Market Garden, and lost 11 Spitfires on the ground during Bodenplatte whilst stationed in Belgium.

John Pattison took a 20mm cannon shell in the thigh from a 109 after three weeks of operating out of Biggin Hill during the Battle of Britain. By war's end he was back in the thick of the action after a period as an instructor. It's easy for us to look at his air to air tally of 2 and think, "He wasn't even an ace".

I like to imagine that like my Grandfather and my Wife's Great Uncle he was probably more comfortable being regarded as a human being, or perhaps a farmer, than a warrior.

Gen Y may not care, and the children of those volunteers and conscripts, who had to deal with these damaged citizen warriors as they healed their mental wounds, sometimes over decades, may have tired of them, but I forgive them their strangeness, I'm privileged that some of them felt comfortable telling me about losing their hair overnight, or soiling themselves while someone tried to shoot their aircraft down, or having to take being spat at by "friends" for defending unarmed prisoners. But they taught me that I don't have to stand in their shadow because they fought for me to have an ordinary life, with plenty of food, a long life filled with love and happiness, and the chance to enjoy the small things without sometimes having to deal with the uninvited guest of imminent death at the hand of your fellow man.

Most of all, I miss them.

James Deuce

[Andy Wright]

That really says it all.

[Dave Homewood]

Hundreds honour brave war pilot
By ROGER MORONEY | 18th September 2009

A World War II Harvard from the Warbirds Association performed a fitting send-off for the former fighter pilot. DUNCAN BROWN HBT093486-07As he finished his tribute to his father, Nick Pattison looked at the flag and poppy-covered casket and simply said, "I will always think of you as a bloody good mate ... a long life, well lived."

And for a moment there was silence as the hundreds present at yesterday's service for John "Johnny" Pattison nodded in agreement.

But his son had one more thing to add as he turned to the casket again.

"I'm sure you won't mind - I nicked your tie."

His father would have approved, and it was clear the Pattison humour and eye for a bit of mischief had been passed on.

St Luke's Anglican Church in Havelock North overflowed with friends and family, among them veterans proudly wearing medals and poppies, representatives of the RNZAF, school pupils and members of the Hawke's Bay Hunt Club dressed in their smart riding gear.

Before the service there were the beautiful strains of wartime sweetheart Vera Lynn singing White Cliffs of Dover and also the more rock-tempo and appropriate Learning to Fly by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

Those present farewelled a man described by the Rev Ron Sinclair as "a man enshrined in our aviation history - a man of derring-do, the Biggles of a new generation".

He spoke of the old world values of honesty, integrity and goodness which Mr Pattison "lived by daily".

"Thank you, Johnny, for setting a standard for all to emulate."

AdvertisementMr Pattison's eldest son, Mike, spoke of how a young relative, when told "poppa" had passed away, replied "he can't die ... he's always there".

Mr Pattison endeared himself to young and old, to friends as well as people who met him for the first time.

And he lived life to the full, conscious of how fortunate he had been to survive nearly six years of aerial combat.

"He never looked back ... he had a stubborn determination to go on, to move forward," Mike Pattison said.

His grandchildren, Catherine and Kirsty, spoke of a beloved grandad who would always have a funny story for them and who would pile them into the old farm Bedford truck and declare: "We're off like a fire through the ranges," and drive away singing "Jingle Bells all the way to the pub".

He had asked Kirsty that when the time came he would like her to recite Robert Louis Stevenson's Requiem at his service.

"But not read it - you must learn it," he had insisted.

She dutifully did, and delivered it with sombre but uplifting beauty.

There were many fine and remarkable stories told about "Johnny Pat" and laughter filled the church.

Like how he decided to test the "off-road" capabilities of a mobility scooter - and got stuck in a muddy paddock.

And when he accidentally set off a medical alarm and watched as a St John Ambulance arrived. He said to the officers "that's a smart blood wagon ... probably needed a run anyway".

At the conclusion of the service, as the Last Post played and tributes were paid by the RSA, the many veterans in attendance went forward to place poppies on the casket (painted in British racing green) and said their final "cheerio, old boy" to a great man.

As the air filled with the sound of the bagpipes he loved so much a Warbirds Harvard swooped over the gathering below as Johnny was sent on his final journey.

To which one veteran was heard to remark "if Johnny were flying it he'd have taken the tops of the trees off."

www.hawkesbaytoday.co.nz/local/news/hundreds-honour-brave-war-pilot/3904295/