Simon St. John Beer - A Salute to One of The Few: The Life of Flying Officer Peter Cape Beauchamp St John RAF

Dedication

This book can only be dedicated to one person:
to Peter.

Had the times through which he lived been more tranquil,
I might have known him.

As it is, I got to know him and admire him at a distance.

Ive done my best

it isnt much,

Ive had to feel

I couldnt touch,

But youre gone, so really, whats it to you?

First published in Great Britain in 2009 by
Pen & Sword Aviation
An imprint of
Pen & Sword Books Ltd
47 Church Street
Barnsley
South Yorkshire
S70 2AS

Copyright Simon St John Beer 2009

ISBN 978 1 84415 876 8

The right of Simon St John Beer to be identified as Author of this work
has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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My sincere thanks must go to:

Monica Mullins, who gave me the key to start this tale.

Daphne Pratt, whose fond memories gave me the commitment, and whose
good-natured teasing each 11 November gave me renewed determination.

Martin and Susie Mawhood for their time, hospitality, warm enthusiasm and
blind faith.

John Freeborn, Peters Flight Commander that day, who gave his time and
memories.

Gill Cocklin, for her help and unending cheerful support.

And of course the three aviatrices in my life:

Amanda Barrell, who got me started and kept me at it.

Hazel Fricker, who taught me to fly at Biggin Hill, in the same skies that Peter
fought and died in.

And Hannah Charter, for her valued advice, gentle ridicule, innate wisdom and
warm sense of humour.

SB

Autumn 2008

CHAPTER ONE
How It All Started

History does not repeat itself;
at best it sometimes rhymes.

Mark Twain

In the final days of December 1998, I was wandering with a friend, Amanda, around the graveyard of St Marys Church in Amersham. It was already quite dark, and very wet. In a far corner, we were drawn to a set of RAF wings at the foot of a grave. Amanda is a commercial pilot and I fly for fun, so the RAF wings were of interest to us both. Using a small pocket torch, I knelt forward to examine the headstone.

The inscription read:

In proud and unceasing memory of our darling
Peter Cape Beauchamp St John
Flying Officer RAF
Killed in action over England
October the 22nd 1940
Aged 23 years
Requiescant in pace
Those wishing life must range the falling sky
When an heroic moment calls to die

The date, 22 October 1940, defines the grave as the last resting place of a Battle of Britain pilot, Peter Cape Beauchamp St John.

I was born after the war (in 1952) but all my life have had a love affair with that most beautiful of aeroplanes, the Spitfire. I know a reasonable amount about the squadrons and aircrew who fought throughout that long-ago summer in 1940. In all, 2,917 Allied airmen flew operationally in what was to become known as the Battle of Britain. At the time of course, it had no such name. Here then lay the mortal remains of a pilot who flew in that battle over sixty years ago.

By one of those odd coincidences, my middle name is St John (pronounced sin-jun); odder still was the fact that having read many books on the Battle of Britain, the history of the RAF, and just about everything ever written on the Spitfire, I did not recognise this name.

Amanda suggested that we should find out who this man was, why he was buried in Amersham and what led up to his burial in this quiet churchyard. And so my quest began; along the way I have read many more fascinating books, and met some lovely people that I would otherwise have never known.

At first it was easy we found Peter St John mentioned in an extremely detailed book The Battle of Britain Then and Now by Winston Ramsey. This book records briefly one of his combats and the date of his final flight. After this it got harder. Peter it seemed, was just another airman killed in the defence of his country all those years ago. The more I tried to find out about him, the harder it all became. There just didnt seem to be much information available on this man. Then Amanda, while flicking through the same book, stumbled across a picture of Peters grave. The picture was probably taken in the late seventies. Now, at the turn of the century, a tree has grown to the right of the grave and time has taken its toll on the lettering. The hunt grew stale and time passed. Later, much later, I discovered a picture of Peter St John, once again in the same book, but not mentioned in the index nor is the picture in a position of any relevance. Ironically it is the only full-page photograph of a pilot in the book. Now the young man in the grave had a face. My library of books grew as I searched out any obscure detail I could find about this man. As is the way with these things, time passed and I wasnt really getting anywhere. Then in September 1999, Amanda suggested that we go back to Amersham and see if we could find out anything new. Well to be honest, there really wasnt anywhere to look. I even resorted to asking elderly people in the park whether or not they knew anybody whose surname was St John.

In the end, Amanda and I went to the presbytery behind St Marys Church to inquire about any details of the burial that the church records might reveal again, a blank. But the charming lady who answered the door suggested we try the local council, as they now held this type of detailed information. A phone call put us in touch with Ann, who could not have been more helpful. She took all the details we knew and said that if I were to ring back in an hour, she would tell me what she had been able to find out. She tracked down the burial records and at last I had some real information, for instance, Peters mothers name and address and the grave plot number. It wasnt a lot, but she also suggested that we tried the local museum in Amersham. Maybe they had some information on this long-dead airman?

In the High Street at Amersham, we discovered the museum. It was closed more frustration but on the door was the telephone number of the curator.

The next day I rang the museum and got hold of Monica Mullins, the curator. She told me that there was nothing in the museum about Peter St John. However, two years ago, somebody else had been inquiring about Peter. She hadnt been able to help him either. Monica probably sensed my disappointment; she came up with an idea. A lady of her acquaintance, who had lived in Amersham all her life, might recognise the name. Monica was wonderful, as good as her word she rang back with the name of Peters cousin who still lived in Amersham. It is hard to describe my elation at hearing this news. For two years on and off Id been trying to track down anything I could about Peter, and at last, a chink of light had appeared. But with knowledge comes responsibility. Did I, a total stranger, have the right to ring somebody who may well not wish to be reminded of the events of 1940? I talked over my concerns with Monica, who kindly agreed to ring Peters cousin, to see if my interest would be well received. The answer was that she would be delighted to talk about Peter; she was very proud of him. And so it was that I got to speak to Daphne Pratt.