Great Britain. Royal Air Force - Survival against all odds: Sunday, 8 June 1942, shot down over France

O ver the years, I have read many books on the exploits of famous wartime airmen, and have written this book primarily for the benefit of my grandchildren, explaining how an ordinary youngster attained his goal of becoming a pilot and, in particular, flew Spitfires, firstly on 611 and then 65 Squadron,without any success in combat! But also how I escaped Occupied France, under the nose of the enemy, on the run, with the help of men and women who put their lives on the line so that I could return to England and defend our skies.

The story started out to recount highlights of my time in the RAF that I remembered, supplemented by reference to letters that I wrote to my parents during the war that passed into my hands after their deaths. My flying log book acted as a diary, covering most of my time in the RAF; photographs, my lecture notes during training and pilots notes for the Spitfire, as well as other single-engine fighter planes that I flew, also helped. In addition, where it was necessary, over the years I made notes, visited places to confirm certain facts and also made use of some reference books. Later on, when I put pen to paper, it became evident that my early life had a bearing on my years in the RAF and the aftermath.

Older people will remember, and younger people will be aware of, the events that happened during the years of the Second World War, 1939-1945. In particular, the Dunkirk evacuation at the end of May 1940, and the furious combat that took place over England during the summer of that year, especially the aerial battles over London that reached their zenith on 15th September the day when the pilots of Fighter Command had their greatest success over the Luftwaffe.

Few people, however, would have attached any significance to an event that took place two days later, on 17th September 1940. And why should they? The fact that it was my birthday would have had little interest to anyone outside my family and circle of friends. To me, however, it was very important. Having attained the age of eighteen, it was now possible for me to enlist for military service and, hopefully, join the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve (RAFVR) to train as a pilot for the duration of the war. This desire was sparked off in 1938 when I paid five shillings (25 pence) for a five-minute flight in the front seat of a two-seater open cockpit air-plane, and made me dream of becoming a pilot. Oddly enough it was another flight in a bi-plane in 1999 that stirred me to complete this story of the ups and downs, good times and difficult times, errors and, in particular, the part that Lady Luck played during this period of my life.

Although I was christened John, my Grandfather Brown always called me Jack. I liked it, and during my RAF career, and later in the Royal Air Force Escaping Society (RAFES), I was known by this Christian name, as well as, during my escapade through France, the French version, Jacques. But at all other times the family use John.

By a happy chance, Diana Morgan of the RAFES introduced me to Oliver Clutton-Brock and, thanks to his experience, guidance and research abilities, he has added considerable depth to this story.

John Misseldine
Grasse,
France.
August 2009.