Hanson - Carrier Pilot: One of the greatest pilot’s memoirs of WWII – a true aviation classic.

Norman Hanson was a 26-year-old Civil Servant at the outbreak of World War Two. Although working in a reserved occupation Hanson was allowed to join the Royal Navys Fleet Air Arm in 1941. After pilot training with the US Navy in Florida he served in Egypt, before serving aboard the HMS Illustrious in the Far East. For his courage, skill and determination while leading 1830 Naval Air Squadron he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. Hanson returned to civilian life in 1946. He died in 1980 shortly after the publication of the critically acclaimed Carrier Pilot.

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Such was the scope and scale of the Second World War that the supply of books generated by the epic, six-year struggle has seemed inexhaustible. Every aspect of the War, from its causes to the aftermath, has proven to be an industry all of its own. Nowhere has this been more true than in coverage of the war in the air. Since the wood and fabric of the Great War, by 1939 air power had come of age and the publishing reflects that. But not all pilots memoirs were created equal, and Norman Hansons book, Carrier Pilot, deserves special attention.

Even as the war raged, aircrew were already writing books about their experiences. Richard Hillarys The Last Enemy, Leonard Cheshires Bomber Pilot and Guy Gibsons Enemy Coast Ahead are all good examples. All were bestsellers. The years immediately following the end of the war saw many more follow and some, like Pierre Clostermanns The Big Show, first published in 1948, were exceptional.

My interest, though, has tended to fall on the titles that were written and published years later. Perhaps its the distance from the experience that, in the hands of a skilful writer, gives some of these memoirs such richness and assurance. Perhaps, too, its simply that literary trends change and, with them, readers expectations. What was par for the course in 1950 might seem anachronistic forty years later. And so despite the years that had passed since the events they describe, books like Geoff Wellums First Light or Jim Goodsons Tumult in the Clouds dont feel old-fashioned. Quartered Safe Out Here, George Macdonald Frasers wonderful account of soldiering in Burma is another book that benefits from the craft and perspective the authors been able to bring to bear. And so to Carrier Pilot.

I first discovered it as a boy browsing the shelves of Cambridge Central Library (something I used to do a lot ). The action-packed flight deck scene on the cover appealed, but I often struggled a bit with WWII memoirs. They sometimes felt too dry and reserved to capture my imagination. But not Carrier Pilot. Here was a book that opened on page one with the clatter of anti-aircraft guns defending the ship from an attacking Japanese bomber with a Seafire fighter on its tail. I was in. And the vivid you-are-there writing didnt stop. This was about as close as I was ever going to come to diving out of the sun into a swarm of Zeros below.

Somehow Carrier Pilot missed out on the success and acclaim enjoyed by books like First Light. It could simply have been that it was published at a time when WWII was out of vogue. Perhaps too a book about Fleet Air Arm pilots fighting half a world away with The Forgotton Fleet against the Japanese was never going to resonate in the same way as a Battle of Britain memoir about Royal Air Force Spitfires battling Messerschmitts over Kent. None of that has anything to do with Carrier Pilots qualities as a book. It may be a little optimistic to still hope it will always get mentioned alongside cast-iron, copper-bottomed WWII classics like First Light and The Big Show as one of the best fighter pilots accounts of the War, but that is, without any shadow of doubt, what it deserves.

ROWLAND WHITE, 2016

To my comrades of the 15th Naval Fighter
Wingthe quick and the dead.

Here dead lie we because we did not choose
To live and shame the land from which we sprung.

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;
But young men think it is, and we were young.

A. E. H OUSMAN

A number of good friends, shipmates and representatives of commercial and official bodies have been of invaluable assistance in providing information and in lending photographs for reproduction. My sincere thanks are due especially to:

John Winton, the naval author and one-time Midshipman in HMS Illustrious, without whose enthusiasm, guidance and encouragement this book would never have got under way. Les Retallick, old friend and shipmate, for detailed information on 1830 Squadron personnel; to my sorrow, he died in Canada in April 1977. Captain A. H. Wallis, CBE, RN (Ret), former Commander of HMS Illustrious, for details of ship routine which I had long since forgotten. Captain R. L. B. Cunliffe, CBE, RN (Ret), my first Captain in HMS Illustrious, for permission to reproduce his photograph. Les C. Wort, Lieutenant-Commander (A), DSC, RNVR, a good and true friend from early flying days, for similar permission. Lady L. Lambe for kindly allowing me to reproduce the photograph of her late husband, Admiral of the Fleet Sir Charles E. Lambe, GCB, CVO, former Captain of HMS Illustrious. Michael Turner, whose painting adorns the dust-cover. Mr T. Clark, Press and Information Officer, Vickers Ltd, Barrow-in-Furness, for technical details about HMS Illustrious. Miss L. Gilbreath, LTV Aerospace Corporation, Dallas, Texas, USA, for photographs and technical information about the Corsair. Imperial War Museum (Department of Photographs), for their ready and cheerful assistance in producing photographs from their archives.

Technical and nautical expressions and abbreviations have been kept to a minimum in the text except where authenticity demands their inclusion. However, I have provided a glossary of these on pages 253255.

The port side 4.5s cracked out with their ear-splitting clatter, soon followed by the thumping drum-beat of the Bofors. I ran to the portholes on the port side, putting on my tin lid on the way.

I stuck out my head. There was a twin-engined Japa Bettygetting some rough treatment from the Fleets guns way out on the port beam, where a Seafire from Indefatigable was recklessly trying to engage him at the same time. Coming up on our port quarter was another Betty, flying fast and low. He, too, was taking a lot of punishment from everybody within reach and, as I watched, his starboard engine started to belch smoke. As he came up to us, going like a train about 80 yards away, I saw flashes from his midupper turret. What the hell is he signalling for, I thought. Must be crazy! Then I heard the clang of shells on our hullChrist! Hes not signalling! Hes firing! And any second now, Hanson, you stupid bastard, youll get. your bloody head blown off! I pulled my head insideor, rather, I intended to, but the rim of my fine American helmet, only just capable of passing through the aperture, now stuck on the outer rim of the port-hole.

From my right, from the front of the island, 30 or 40 feet away, came a blinding flash. I cant remember hearing the deep clang of the explosion; there was only the concussion whose violence rattled my head inside the tin hat like a pea in a drum. My head came inside then without