For Fifteen Bob a Day: The Story of a Young 22 Year Old Nz 485 Squadron Pilot in Wwii

© Copyright 2015 Clinton mhic Aonghais.

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isbn: 978-1-4907-5650-9 (sc)isbn: 978-1-4907-5652-3 (hc)isbn: 978-1-4907-5651-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015907560

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Prune’s Progress

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For Fifteen Bob A Day

Part of the series ‘The Seeds of Time’

This is the story of Pilot Officer Clinton McInnes who gave

his life for his family and country; and of his wife Mona (Irish)

McInnes, (nee Pickles) along with the arrival of their

only child, and son Leslie (Les) Duncan McInnes,

in June 1944. As another mhic Aonghais, of ‘

Prunus Insignis’ descent, Les has grown

to have ‘his finger well and truly out.’

He additionally has the distinction

of being the first child born to a

pilot of 485 (N.Z.) Spitfire

Squadron while it was

operational during

the conflict that

was WW 2.

Pilot Officer Clinton McInnes

Contents

Dedication & Acknowledgements

Preface

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

Part XI

Part XII

Part XIII

Epilogue

485 New Zealand Spitfire Squadron - RAF

485 Squadron Leaders1941 -1945

Prune’s List of RAF Terms

RAF WWII Airfield Designations and Location – France 1944

Fiesler, Fi-103 (V1) Specifications

Bibliography

An account from the irrepressible line of Duncan (Prunus) McInnes

485 New Zealand Spitfire Squadron Crestwith motto:

Ka Whawhai Tonu (We Fight On Forever)

Dedication & Acknowledgements

T his book is dedicated to all those who served with 485 (New Zealand) Spitfire Squadron during World War II, and who did not get to return home.

As a true story, (other than any bits that aren’t), it has been written as one of several books in the series titled ‘The Seeds of Time’, that covers the wider McInnes clan family. This part of that larger saga is dedicated to Pilot Officer Clinton McInnes (dec.), his wife Mona (Irish) nee Pickles (dec.), and their only son, Leslie Duncan McInnes; along with his family, children and grandchildren. It is additionally a record for my children Carla, Duncan and Samantha, and our wider McInnes family, along with all those with an interest in 485 - the New Zealand Spitfire Squadron, or historic aviation in general.

I acknowledge and offer special thanks, once again, to my wife, Jane, for allowing me the space to write this book. Without her patience and fortitude I suspect this particular ‘Prune’ would not have had the time to record these words.

Thanks also to the staff of the RNZAF Wigram Air Force Museum for their support, interest and assistance. Also my appreciation is extended to all who allowed access to additional images and material from the collections of C & S McInnes, the McInnes Family Trust, Max Collett, Fort Augustus Collections, The Seeds of Time Collection, and all others who have contributed.

Historic information and photos for this book have been obtained from a wide variety of sources and collections including family, friends, Crown, Government, and public domain sources. I acknowledge all sources including the records of Clinton and Selwyn McInnes (both deceased), Les McInnes in England, Max Collett in Napier, New Zealand; and the many other writers who have touched on, or covered 485 Squadron history over the years.

I hope that this book is a good read for those interested in family, in aviation, and in the memory of the many aviators on both sides of the epic struggle that we know as World War 2.

Vickers Supermarine Spitfire Mk IXb withD-Day invasion markings

Preface

T he phone rang with that insistence that only phones have a habit of doing. I picked it up and on the other end was the clear coherent voice of one of the last surviving 485 (NZ) Spitfire Squadron pilots from World War 2 who had flown with my u ncle.

It was Max Collett from Napier, and I had a fair idea what his first question for me would be….

When is the book coming out?

I smiled to myself as, while Max was genuinely interested in reading this book, I also suspected he was keeping me focused and on track to see that it got at least past my computer screen and into print. I thought to myself later, Max, you loveable old bugger, you have definitely kept my nose to the grindstone in completing this work, and I personally thank you for your interest.

With an enthusiasm that belied his 90 plus years of age, it had been the fourth time Max had rung me in the last year. He had flown with my uncle and namesake, Clinton McInnes, in 485 Squadron in Britain and Europe during the war, and he remains dedicated in wanting to see the squadron’s history and memories preserved.

It was an enthusiasm, I reflected, that many others more than likely had also previously been grateful of. Just as other writers of family histories have their mentors and supporters…. I had mine in Max.

Did you manage to track down Mac’s log book? Max enquired… I brought it home after the war and gave it to his wife, Irish, who I met again at that time.

No….. I replied. It is not with his son Leslie in England, who I talk to semi-regularly when we both get the chance; and Les’s mother unfortunately passed on years ago. I have managed to piece together Clinton’s operational record from the original Squadron Operational Log at the Wigram Air Force Museum here in Christchurch, along with material from other books. That material has given me enough to go on, along with the letters Clinton wrote to my father. You would no doubt remember that they were also received during the war as small photographic duplicates supplied by the censor’s office?

Yes, I do…, Max confirmed positively, as if it had only been yesterday…. It’s unfortunate about that log book though!

Then after our general catch up, and a few further comments, he offered his usual parting request…

Anyway… get that book printed, and remember to sign the copy you send me after it comes out…

Max was my biggest supporter in this project to record the story of a little known pilot for posterity. It was not my signature the book needed but rather his, as Max had certainly been closer to the action that anyone else in personally having experienced many of the facts of which I write.

After his call my mind again went back to 1944 when Max had been flying with my uncle, Clinton, or ‘Mac’ as the boys had called him. It had been a time when celebrating your 21st birthday in the UK, or Europe, as a fighter pilot with the RAF had been overshadowed by feelings or apprehension interspersed with periods of monotony, nervous excitement, trepidation and fear. Many lived for ‘today’ not knowing what tomorrow would bring, and as such it brought out the natural youthful exuberance of many a colonial spirit.

With the arrival of war in 1939, in New Zealand many 18 year old lads signed on with the Royal New Zealand Air Force (RNZAF), with the hope of serving overseas, and by the end of 1941 New Zealand had a number of operational squadrons attached to the RAF, flying out of Britain.

They included 75 (NZ) Squadron, flying firstly the Vickers Wellington, then the Short Stirling and Avro Lancaster bombers; 485 (NZ) Squadron, flying Vickers Supermarine Spitfires; 486 (NZ) Squadron, flying Typhoons and Tempests; 487 (NZ) Squadron, flying light bombers that included the Lockheed Ventura and the de Havilland Mosquito; 488 (NZ) Squadron as a night fighter ‘intruder’ unit equipped with Beaufighters; 489 (NZ) Squadron, employed as an anti-submarine and reconnaissance unit operationally flying Bristol Beauforts, Bristol Blenheims, Hampdens, and Beaufighters; and 490 (NZ) Squadron, another anti-submarine and reconnaissance unit, this time flying PBY Catalinas and Short Sunderland flying boats.

Whilst all these squadron’s held their appeal, the dream for many a young New Zealand trainee pilot was to fly Vickers Supermarine Spitfire fighter aircraft with 485 (NZ) Squadron. For the few accepted they would become a band of skilled brothers sharing a common risk, alongside many other similar squadrons.

Before we begin one thing worth remembering concerning these young men was that many pilots, crews, and ground crews (erk’s) were still only in their early twenties. As such many from New Zealand displayed a natural youthful exuberance that combined an individualism of spirit that marked their antipodean upbringing; making them good also at what they were employed to do.

When you’re 18 and somebody comes along and says ‘join up and we’ll take you around the word and teach you how to fly’ you’re not going to say no… No way, not at that age! comments Max.

Playing against the rules, for instance, Max secretly carried a forbidden pocket camera with him while flying and was able to capture the odd rare moment (overleaf). This shot was taken in the later part of 1944 through his gun-sight, while he was flying No 4 in echelon formation, prior to a dive bombing attack on a V1 (‘Noball’) site.

Max, who was the same age as Clinton, insists that he was not a special pilot…

I was just a common garden sergeant pilot (like Clinton) - there were hundreds like me, and I just managed to get through the war after three-and-a-half years…, that’s all. I withstood the assault of all the girls overseas and came back and married a Kiwi.

Max Collett in 1943

In these two aspects he differed from Clinton, in that he had been able to withstand the assault of the local lasses, and that he got to return home.

On his return to New Zealand Max Collett went to work for the Public Trust in Waipukurau where he met his future wife, Noeline. Max and his family then moved to Napier the year I was born -1952.

Max Collett at home with a treasured painting of the 485 Squadron Spitfire he flew OU-D - named ‘The Waipawa Special’

Part I

T he quietness of the Mahakirau Valley was interrupted by the crack of a broken branch caused by Duncan stooping over a rotting log to gather an umbrella fern for his native specimen book.

It was a book whose native timber cover he had painstakingly spent many hours crafting with hexagonal examples of the different native timbers from the surrounding bush; carefully arranging them around a central oblong feature of kauri with an inlaid paua shell butterfly. Rata, mairi, 5-finger, rimu, totara, black birch, red birch, tawa, rangiora, kahikatea and rewa rewa were all featured, with each also inlaid with a paua shell symbol; a triangle, diamond, moon, clover, dove, slipper, spade, star, heart and crucifix. In the final hexagonal piece fitted centrally at its base were the carved numerals, ‘1935’.

New Zealand native wood pigeon (kererū)

As he shifted his right leg to improve his balance and rearrange his old leather shoulder bag, a distinct small grunt came from within the log between his spread-eagled legs. He instantly stood still knowing the sound and quickly contemplated his next move.

The twelve-foot log was obviously hollow.

Duncan’s 1935 carved book cover

Quietly he removed his shoulder bag laying it in easy reach to his right. Then leaning left, he managed to fit the sack reasonably securely over the opening on the left hand end of the log before quickly moving back to put his plan into effect.

The knife he carried was not large but the effect of its butt end thumping on timber had the desired effect. Several alarmed squeals broke the silence hurriedly followed by the drumming of little trotters as a number of the log’s hidden occupants made their attempt at escape in the opposite direction to his banging.

The first two wild weaner pigs fought their way to what they perceived to be freedom only to enter the bag in unison and send it, along with them, rolling into the fern in a mass of confused squealing and hessian.

Wild pigs

Their brother, who had been further down the log, was more fortunate, exiting the now cleared opening to vanish into the undergrowth with the speed of an express train and the noise of a demented banshee.

Duncan quickly recovered his bag and prize.

In the dark of the sack his new found friends hid quietly wondering their fate. The smell of the plants seemed familiar but the swaying of their enclosure as their captor moved was a new experience. Duncan pondered on the whereabouts, or fate, of their mother as he made his way back to his ‘whare’, (maori hut), across the valley. He would not have long to wait to discover the answer.

By 11 o’clock that evening, with his central floor fire banked up, Duncan retired to the raised earthen platform at the rear of the ‘whare’ where he slept. Removing his boots he crawled under his blanket to look back past a small table and chair at the weaner pigs he had placed in a small, boxed enclosure he had constructed beside the fire.

NZ wild boar can weigh 200kg +

Further into the darkness of the interior he could just make out the heavy kauri door of the earth floored hut in the reflected light from the fire. The small pigs seemed happy enough curled up enjoying the warmth of their new surroundings. Pondering on how he could fatten his two new found friends he drifted to sleep.

A violent crash in the early hours of the morning brought him awake with a start. The kauri door was obviously under attack from what he instantly knew to be an irate wild parent. Before he could make a move, and with nowhere really to go, the heavy solid door was forced and the silhouette of a huge pig filled its wide frame. Duncan froze on the spot. In his wildest dreams this was not a position he had ever suspected that he would find himself in. With his knife on the table and rifle by the doorframe past an obviously mentally disturbed, massive, black, she-devil incarnate he was at her mercy. The huge sour snorted in disgust at the smell of human surroundings as she progressed further into the ‘whare’ with her red eyes glistening at him in the remaining light from the fire’s embers.

A few of Duncan’s wild pig tusks

Quickly contemplating his possible escape routes within the confines of the room, Duncan realised that if he was to get out of this scrape at all, his best chance in not being severely mauled lay in staying very still.

The pig approached the fire pushing the small enclosure over on top of it and with a low grunt encouraged her young charges to follow her. Both had instantly stirred with the realisation that mum had come to the rescue, and while one was instantly looking for an early breakfast, the other was carefully picked up in the she-devil’s mouth with all the tenderness that only a mother could show.

Duncan McInnes with ‘whare’ in the background

New Zealand native bush

Under a canopy of native trees

Duncan McInnes still remained rigid in his blanket ten minutes after the pigs’ departure. He had accumulated some wild pig trophies over the years but being on the receiving end of a massive, manic, protective sour was something he vowed never to repeat. It brought home to him the importance of his health to his two young sons back in Coromandel. He knew that without him they would no doubt eventually be thrust into what he considered could be an unhealthy upbringing with his ex wife.

Mahakirau Creek

For some inexplicable reason his earlier failed marriage had leapt into his mind taking him back to reflect on those early years after his return from Egypt in 1919.

Mahakirau Creek

A family acquaintance

F ollowing World War One and the flu epidemic of 1918-19 Auckland City had shaken off its cloak of wartime depression and started to expand. Stimulated by the visit of the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall in 1921, with its special Queen Street parade to mark the occasion, Logan Campbell had gifted ‘One Tree Hill’ to the city and named it Cornwall Park.

The Great South Road and One Tree Hill in the background

Two years later in 1923 a substantially built residence of nine rooms was purchased adjacent to One Tree Hill near the park and the new Cornwall Park School. Located in the suburb of Greenlane it was in good order on a level freehold section with a splendid orchard, and it sold for £1,800 with a £300 cash deposit. Auckland house prices were increasing and building was spreading further afield.

Fifteen miles further south at Alfriston, Duncan McInnes, along with Gretchen Arnold who was now working in domestic duties in Manuurewa, also celebrated that newly found optimism by deciding to share marriage vows and move into the city. They were married in Gretchen’s mother’s home at Seabrook Avenue, New Lynn, Auckland, on Guy Fawkes celebration day 5th November, 1921. Shortly after exchanging their wedding vows, and as if to signal future events, Gretchen’s parents’ marriage was officially dissolved on 23rd March, 1922, by decree absolute in the Supreme Court, Auckland.

The local Alfriston store

One Tree Hill, Auckland c.1918

Duncan and Gretchen could not afford £1,800 for their first home, and other than staying with Gretchen’s mother, they were forced to rent.

On 25th August, 1922, Duncan and Gretchen’s first son, Clinton, was born, and to break the mould of family tradition he was poetically named after a babbling river in the lower South Island. For what reason is unclear. It may have been because his mother was taken with the thought, or simply that his father not knowing what to call the boy, had simply looked at a map of New Zealand for a suitable name. It was, however, to set a precedent for the naming of my father, who was born three years later on 1st October 1925. He was imaginatively named Selwyn after another South Island river further north.

Within two years the two young boys were seeing less and less of their mother as Gretchen distanced herself from a home environment that she considered overly restrictive.

Neither Clinton nor Selwyn could understand that their extremely attractive mother, having come from a relatively affluent background accustomed to social interaction, was finding it increasingly difficult living with an overbearing husband in a basic low income environment with little outside contact.

Clinton with the family puppy at Weymouth Beach

Back in 1924 Duncan’s older sister Merrion’s husband Herbert Frederick Scott had passed away aged 69 years. As a widow Merrion had been left to bring up her three children on her own. Being frugal and working as house help to others, on 3rd February, 1927 Merrion managed to buy a very good five-roomed Greenlane bungalow at No.8 Garlands Road, just off the Great South Road. Like others in the area the house was positioned to the front it’s quarter-acre oblong section.

Duncan’s older sister Merrion Scott’s home at 8 Garlands Road (later Duncan’s home with Merrion standing outside)

Looking east from One Tree Hill

By 1928 Clinton and Selwyn were glad to be free of their parents’ bickering, but were not told the real reason for their mother’s eventual departure.

Clinton, however, had a basic grasp that within their parents’ seven years of marriage that his mother’s free ranging, horse racing, fun loving, spirit could no longer put up with, or accept, his father’s autocratic domineering attitude. The boys’ naturally still had a maternal bond that was tested with her leaving. It would manifest in them an attitude of self-reliance, knowing no doubt that they could possibly be let down at any turn.

2

Selwyn & Clinton

Their father on the other hand, was certainly not accepting of the fact that the eventual breakup of his marriage was due in good measure to his attitude and total intolerance to anyone who drank alcohol.

Looking towards South Auckland c. 1925

By the latter part of 1928 Duncan strongly believed that drink had led to the demise of his relationship and he made a pact with himself and vowed that no son of his would go down that particular path. Whisky may have been considered one of nature’s most generous gifts to man however he knew simultaneously that it was one of his most elusive problems, particularly with those who did not quite know how to control it.

Earlier in his life he had experienced his father’s chemical makeup that had also unfortunately been overly attracted to alcoholic beverages. With others in the family, like his older sister Merrion, having become teetotalers because of it, and with him hardened by his WW1 experiences observing its effect on others, he had then married a wife with what he considered to be a drinking complaint.

He accepted that for a shilling anyone could buy a glass of whisky that was not unpleasant to the taste, contained within its small measure a store of warmth, good- fellowship and stimulation, and released the drinker from momentary cares and anxieties. He also knew, however, that it came with other hooks and that there in lay the problem. As far as he was concerned it was a trap sent to tempt the weak, and the start of a slippery slope that led to debauchery.

Drinking beer in bars, he considered, was just as bad.

In a broader sense he also did not hold with several other popular views on the subject. Firstly that the action of alcohol and the craving for a drink was a manifestation of some form of allergy; secondly that it was only limited to those described as chronic alcoholics, nor thirdly that it never occurred in the average supposed temperate drinker.

In these observations he was fairly enlightened, however, his inflexible attitude towards anyone who even had the odd drink, was not. Naturally there was no excuse for anyone periodically being driven by a violent and totally uncontrollable desire for a drink, and chronic alcoholism should, therefore, not be watered down and called ‘compulsion neurosis’, or some other fancy title.

Gretchen McInnes

He saw things more simply, and clearly, holding to the view that anyone that dropped their guard and drank would inevitably slip into a state of binge drinking, with a resultant diminished set of values and lack of moral fiber.

In Duncan’s mind his ex-wife’s desire to socialise with drink was a case in point. He considered that whilst Gretchen may have been ‘touched’, as he put it, with physical or mental quirks, there was no way that these prevented her from controlling her own actions and abstaining completely.

He knew she was more than capable of doing so but had refused to comply. He had, therefore, refused drink to enter the house and would likewise not attend any social function at which it was present.

Gretchen Willameana McInnes

A s in many other countries, New Zealand was greatly affected by the Great Depression of the 1930s, made worse than it should have been due to New Zealand’s total unprepared state to mee t it.

New Zealand’s Social Services had fallen behind many other countries after 1918, which led to around 70,000 unemployed at the worst point of the Depression.

National income fell by 40 per cent in three years.

Duncan McInnes

Exports were significantly affected, falling by 45 per cent in as little as two years. The value of wool would decline by 60 per cent over the period 1929 to 1932 although the value of meat wasn’t so badly affected.

Dairy farmers increased production of butter and cheese to try and meet the increasing problems, but failed in doing so.

For the average working man bringing up a young family it was a case of trying anything to ‘make ends meet’ just to feed the kids. Duncan was no exception.

Hey mister farmer… This one fell off the tree and I’m just trying to put it back!

One of Duncan’s drawings he completed to hopefully teach his sons the right values in life

With the family farm at Alfriston also not delivering a financial return for an older brother Gorrie, along with others of the family, and with Duncan without work, it was obvious that they all needed another solution to their financial woes. Need was going to again have to be the ‘mother of invention’ for the McInnes boys, and so a third brother, Malcolm, had gone into Auckland looking for opportunities.

Eight hours later he returned with an old copy of the 1906 New Zealand Mining Handbook. It was a book he had browsed through in an old store some weeks earlier and after giving it some thought he had returned to town hoping it was still available.

One section of the book had particularly captured his interest. It covered the Coromandel area and included a list of mine managers and superintendents who held certificates under the Mining Act of 1896. One had shone out like a beacon. It was that of John McInnes of Puriri who had held a Second-Class Service Certificate that had been issued to Mine Managers as a Certificate of Competency and to holders of provisional warrants covered by the Mining Act of 1896.

He knew that Puriri goldfield had been some distance up the Thames River on a tributary called Puriri, south of Kopu, and it immediately led him to thinking about how the brothers could make a quid to survive tough times. If one McInnes had done it then to his simple way of thinking there was no reason why others could not do likewise.

Gold trapped in Coromandel quartz

L isten to this, Malcolm began on the following Sunday evening in Merrion’s dining room at Garland Road, Greenlane, in Auck land.

Malcolm McInnes

The valley of the Mahakirau, in the Coromandel, above the junction of the Waitakatanga Creek includes two areas, which are more or less auriferous; meaning, I assume, full of gold. One of these is included within a belt about 60 chains wide, extending from the headwaters of Battery and Waiparu Creeks on the south side of the main valley, into the watershed of the Day Dawn and other small creeks on the north side of the valley.

The other belt, a mile and a half further westward, includes the watershed of Jubilee Creek that extends westward and south-westward to the main river, which flows here in a northerly direction".

Mahakirau Creek

For a family in dire need of a solution to their economic woes, and used to digging ground for another form of gold in the form of kauri gum, Malcolm had certainly gained their attention.

The export of gold, which was £1,220,000 in 1880, did not exceed that figure until 1898, after being long at a standstill. From that point it had begun again to make headway. For many years the surface alluvial mining in the South Island had become less and less profitable, however, as in other countries, the working of quartz reefs gradually compensated for this.

Gold mining in the Coromandel

The cyanide process of gold extraction, and the returns obtained by its means from the great Waihi mine in the Upper Thames, caused an outbreak of gold fever which led to the opening up of a few good, and a great many worthless, quartz-mines in the Auckland fields.

The family was aware of this as prior to World War I Gorrie had also explored and prospected in the Coromandel Ranges.

In Battery Creek, at a point about 45 chains from the main river, there is an exposed quartz vein 20 feet in width striking north 30 degrees east. On its southerly extension it forms the conspicuous ‘quartz blows’ on the ridge between this small creek and Mclsaacs Creek. The quartz contains pyrite and a small percentage of antimonite.

When prospected in the early 1900’s no gold could be detected on crushing