The remarkable and extremely well documented Second World War Bomber Command No.4 Group Halifax pilot’s 1941 operations Distinguished Flying Cross and 1939 to 1940 operations Whitley pilot’s Distinguished Flying Medal group to a future Boeing 747 pilot, with flying log books and a quantity of ephemera, as awarded to Wing Commander W.S. Hillary, D.F.C., D.F.M., Royal Air Force. Hillary, a Cockney from Lambeth, London, was the son of a soldier, and his remarkable flying career is recounted in the book ‘From Biplane to Boeing - the story of one man’s journey through aviation.’ A pre-war bomber pilot, he was a Sergeant by the outbreak of the War, and within a little under three years had been promoted to Wing Commander, a remarkable achievement, even in wartime, when considering he also been twice decorated, and as of May 1942 had flown in some 53 operational sorties at time when things were very much against the survival of Bomber crews. He was recommended for the Distinguished Flying Medal in June, it being gazetted on 30 July 1940. Earned with 10 Squadron, with whom he completed 30 sorties in Whitley bombers, he had first flown on operations during the Cuhaven ‘nickel’ raid of 8 September 1939, and took off as part of the very first raid to Berlin on 15 September, but his aircraft ‘had to turn back because the Whitley was absolutely covered in ice. I lost all control of flaps and ailerons.’ He nevertheless completed the second such ‘nickel’ raid to Berlin on 24 October, having flown similar to Bremen and Hamburg in the meantime, with the leaflet dropping being ‘a vain attempt to win the hearts and minds of ordinary Germans with a pamphlet’. He survived a crash landing at Dishforth airfield on 4 January 1940 after another similar raid to Bremen, after his aircraft wing clipped a tree whilst coming in to land. The crew escaped serious injury. Records made at the time on the file of the wireless operator, suggested he was killed in this incident. This error only came to light in 1944 when the airman was recommended for Commission and the medical officer examining him found the entry in his records stating he had died some four years previously!’ As the Phoney-war period was coming to an end he was conducting reconnaissances over the Ruhr, and with the German invasion of France the Low Countries he switched to actual bombing, attacking targets in the enemy rear areas in a vain attempt to stem the advance. Commissioned in January 1941, he then returned to operations with 35 Squadron at Linton-on-Ouse in Yorkshire, with whom he then flew two missions with the new Halifax bomber that was then being ironed out in readiness for mass deployment on mainstream operations. He got to know this aircraft under the watchful eye of one, Flying Officer Cheshire, later Group Captain and Baron Cheshire, V.C., O.M., D.S.O. and two Bars, D.F.C. Cheshire was in the cockpit when Hillary first flew solo in a Halifax. Hillary flew in the sortie to the docks at Le Havre on 10 March, that marked the very first operational raid that Halifax bombers flew in, and then completed another to Kiel before being posted to another newly forming Halifax unit, namely 76 Squadron at Middleton Saint George near to Darlington in March 1941. Within a month he was a flight commander in command of ‘A’ Flight, and went on to complete a total of 15 sorties in Halifax bombers, 13 with 78 Squadron, when attacking some of the most heavily defended targets in Germany, and on one occasion when returning from Hanover on 14 July, the port inner engine of the then Squadron Leader Hillary’s aircraft failed completely when over the Dutch coast. He remained unperturbed, set course for the Norfolk Coast, and landed safely on three engines. He flew in the attack the German battleship Scharnhorst on 24 July, she being then docked in La Pallice at La Rochelle. Hillary would recall that: ‘We scored five hits almost in a straight line along the starboard side. We also knocked out her gun turrets and half her anti-aircraft battery and she was listing quite badly as we flew off. Incredibly, after the pasting we’d given her, she still limped into Brest for repairs the next day. He also flew in one of only two R.A.F. raids made on the heavily defended Leuna Oil Refinery. His Distinguished Flying Cross was recommended on the basis of his work as a captain of aircraft and a flight commander of outstanding courage and ability, he having been operating continuously since war began, and never shown signs of tiredness or waning enthusiasm. The citation specifically makes note of his having brought the aircraft back on three engines after the raid on Hanover, and his award was gazetted in January 1942. His second tour had come to an end and he then had command of the 1652 Halifax Conversion Unit at Marston Moor in Yorkshire between January 1942 and April 1943, a period spent teaching new pilots and crews in the use of the Halifax, and witnessing his promotion to Wing Commander. He was bitterly disappointed to not be allowed to fly in Bomber Command’s first 1000 bomber raid when it targeted Cologne on 30 May, even inscribing in his log book on that day: ‘Thousand Plan, not allowed to Go!!!!’ However, clearly intent on operational flying come what may, he flew on the ‘2nd Millennium’ second thousand bomber sortie when it targeted Bremen on 25 June, noting in his log book that it was ‘practically a daylight raid.’ On 25 August, while air testing a Halifax after it had been in for some repairs. an engine cut off on take-off and his logbook entry served to remind him how very nearly famous he was on that day: “Nearly hit York Minster”. Now, that would have made the headlines.’ He then commanded a ferry and servicing unit out in North Africa, and flew 4 sorties in Dakota’s to support operations to oust the Germans from the Greek Islands of Leros and Samos during late 1943, on one occasion dropping in 20 paratroopers of the Greek Sacred Squadron. He also flew a Hurricane in support of French Colonial troops in Algeria, for which he received a 43rd Regiment Infanterie Coloniale ‘Badge of Honour’ in February 1945. From March through to August 1945 he was out in India and Burma in command of 247 Transport Squadron and flying some 24 further sorties in Dakota aircraft when dropping supplies, and one occasion mules to the troops fighting on the ground in Burma. At the liberation of Rangoon in May 1945, he led his squadron in, and was dropping supplies onto Government House there at the same time that the Union Jack was being raised up the flagstaff. His was also one of the first two aircraft to land at Rangoon airfield on the Japanese vacating it. Despite his outstanding operational career of 81 sorties, he fell foul to the post war cutbacks, and despite being offered to stay on by the careers officer, the dramatic drop in rank to Flight Lieutenant was too much for him. As beautifully recorded in ‘From Biplane to Boeing’: “You can have a commission as a Flight Lieutenant. There. How’s about it, old boy? What d’ye say? Eh?” I stood up slowly and came to attention. I then threw him the smartest longest-way-up-shortest-way-down salute of my career. “With respect, Sir. You can stick that right up your arse. Sir!” I turned one hundred and eighty degrees and marched smartly out through the deafening silence.’ That was the inglorious end to his R.A.F. career. He then through himself in civil aviation, and forged his second career though to 1975. Initially as pilot for Scottish Airways Ltd, he then became Chief Pilot of Aer Rianta, the Are Lingus charter division in May 1947 before switching to East African Airways out in Kenya. With the changing political situation he left Kenya for the Belgian Congo in 1952 and then flew for Sabena, the Belgian World Airlines though until 1960. When Belgian Congo became Zaire, ‘there was a huge amount of upheaval. Moise Tshombe was the leader of Katanga and in direct opposition to Patrice Lumumba in the Congo. I was asked to become the former’s personal pilot and did so for a time, until that is, we all got arrested and thrown into an internment camp. For six weeks. On my release, Sabena sent me to Libya to work the oilfields.’ In February 1964 he returned to what was now the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and a week later found himself employed flying President Kasavuba, the First President of the Democratic Republic. ‘I really hoped he would hang around for a bit. In fact he lasted for a whole year till Mobutu staged a coup and got rid of him.’ He converted onto jet propelled passenger jets with the Carqavelle in 1967 during a week in Toulouse, and whilst there ‘Brian Trubshaw was zooming round the sky, nearly blowing us out of it, in his Concorde.’ In March 1969 he converted for the DC8 noting that he ‘was now familiar with jets. Bit of a change from the Blackburn B2 Trainer in 1935.’ He then went on to fly as part of Air Zaire in the Boing 747 as First Pilot, and he latterly flew the DC10. He passed away in Hundested in Denmark in 1995. Of his time spent with Bomber Command, he was sum it up in a note he penned: ‘Sit above a burning city and read your maps by the light of the fires on the ground below. that’s power - and all the time you are hoping to dislodge the anti-aircraft shells and praying even if you don’t believe in God, that the fighter’s won’t single you out and you, crashing in flames, then the flight back to base. Always in the back of your mind those people on the ground, maimed, crippled, blasted to eternity. The times you were caught by the lights, and fought your way out of it, to arrive back and find that Jim or Charles or Pip hadn’t arrived back. Switching off the engine and sitting there in the sudden wealthy silence. Wonder what it was all about.’
Group of 9: Distinguished Flying Cross, GVI GRI 1st type cypher, reverse officially dated: 1942, on original issue ribbon and wearing pin; Distinguished Flying Medal, GVI 1st type bust; (580022. SGT. W.S. HILLARY. R.A.F.), on original issue ribbon and wearing pin; 1939-1945 Star; Air Crew Europe Star; Africa Star; Burma Star; Italy Star; Defence Medal; War Medal.
Condition: Good Very Fine.
Together with the following:
Royal Air Force Pilot’s Flying Log Book, three books bound as one, the brown outer cloth cover inscribed: ‘W.S. Hillary’, the inside opening page inscribed: ’Sgt. Hillary W.S.’, with the first book covering the period from: ‘5 October 1937 through to 25 September 1943; the second log book with opening page inscribed: ‘W.S. Hillary’, and covering the period from 26 September 1943 through to 8 July 1946; and the third log book, this completely blank, but nevertheless bound with the other two.
Royal Air Force pilot’s training note book as compiled by ‘W.S. Hillary’, when with the flying school run by Flying Training Ltd at Feltham.
Second World War issue Royal Air Force cloth pilot’s flying wings.
The recipient’s matching group of miniature medals, these mounted swing style as worn.
France: French 43rd Regiment Infanterie Coloniale ‘Badge of Honour’, as gifted to Hillary in February 1946 for two flights flown in support of this French Colonial Infantry Regiment whilst conducting exercises in the Sahara Desert area of Algeria. Silver and enamels, marked on reverse for Drago of 25 R. Beranger, Paris. This believed to be rare.
Also the miniature medal group to his father, these a group of 8 and also swing mounted as worn, comprising: 1914-1915 Star; British War Medal and Victory Medal; 1939-1945 Star; Africa Star; Defence Medal; War Medal; and Regular Army Long Service and Good Conduct Medal, GVI 2nd type bust.
Also a copy of the privately printed and published book: ‘From Biplane to Boeing - the story of one man’s journey through aviation, as though told by Walter Stanley Hillary D.F.C., D.F.M. 1917-1995.’ Written by the recipient’s son, Nigel Hillary, published through Amazon in 2015, paperback, 113 pages.
Walter Stanley Hillary was born on 6 January 1917 in Lambeth, London, the son of Henry Hillary and Margaret Henrietta Way. His father was at that on active service during the ongoing Great War, having been wounded by a shell when serving as a Corporal with the London Irish Rifles, he had been invalided home and discharged in April 1916, and had then re-enlisted into the Cash Accounting Committee on the Supernumerary strength of the Royal Fusiliers, and saw service as an Account’s Clerk. Having transferred as a Sergeant into the Corps of Military Accountants in January 1920, he further transferred into the Royal Army Pay Corps in December 1925 and rose to Warrant Officer 1st Class. As the son, Walter Stanley Hillary had been named in honour of his uncle, his father’s brother, who had been killed by gas poisoning when serving as a sniper. Having been schooled whilst followed his father during various British Army postings including South Africa and Malta, he went on to work as a grocer’s apprentice for a then not so widely recognised firm called Sainsbury, he was however obsessed by planes and flying,
Hillary joined the Royal Air Force in 1935, and whilst intent on becoming trained as a pilot, he nevertheless had to go through the initial ground work, gaining basic understanding of Air-Pilotage, rigging, armaments, photography and law and administration whilst at Hanworth in southwest London. He was then sent for pilot training through the flying school run by Flying Training Ltd at Feltham.
Hillary flew in the Blackburn B@ trainer, a bi-plane, and flew his first solo on 12 November 1935. In early 1936 he had advanced onto the Hawker Hart trainer, before moving on in July of that year to the Handley Page Heyford twin engined bi-plane bomber, that had a crew of four. He first flew solo in this aircraft on 27 July 1936. At this period whilst in the latter stages of his training he found himself attached to No.10 (Bomber) Squadron at Boscombe Down, and in October 1936 he was promoted to Sergeant (No.580022), having gained his pilot’s wings, he was now classified as a Sergeant Pilot on twin-engined bomber aircraft.
In November 1936 he was posted operational to join No.78 (Bomber) Squadron, also a Boscombe Down, and operating with ‘B’ Flight. In late January 1937 the squadron was moved to Dishforth, and on 30 July 1937 first flew in a Whitley bomber, before changing to the Whitley bomber flight on 27 September 1937. Hillary’s first log book, whilst still existing in archival form, it being available after being donated to the National Archives, is not present with the group, however the first part of his service, along with everything else is more than satisfactorily detailed in the book ‘From Biplane to Boeing’, along with his personal comments and experiences as told to his son. It is believed that Hillary must also have kept a diary or notes of some form, as the recollections are very clear and informative.
Of the three bound logbooks - two of which have entries, these start on Chapter 3 titled ‘Run-up to the War’. His first log book was to be replaced by a more-substantial square formed log book that Hillary amusingly noted on: ‘So now it’s October 1937 and I’ve had to start a new log book. This time they’ve given me a much more substantial book. I wonder if they knew I was going to need most of the pages.’
On 22 May 1938 he was attached to the School of Air Navigation in Shoreham, near to Brighton when he flew the Dragon Rapides, before returning to 78 Squadron at Dishfoth in late July. By June of 1939 he had logged some 500 flying hours, and that same month got married to Anne Hoole in Wandsworth. On the outbreak of the Second World War he entered into his log book: ‘September 3rd 1939. Declaration of War on Germany.’ He would later recall that ‘the words at the bottom in my own handwriting send a chill down my spine. All the practice and the preparation are over. Now, it’s for real.’
On 8 September he flew and alternated as pilot with a Sergeant Verstage in his first operational sortie, a ‘nickel’ leaflet dropping raid on Cuxhaven in Germany. He flew in a Whitley IV, and noted that it was ‘a vain attempt to win the hearts and minds of ordinary Germans with a pamphlet’. He further noted that ‘this was part of the so-called “Phoney-war” and, while the Germans didn’t send any fighters after us, they did use the opportunity to test their searchlights and the occasional burst of anti-aircraft fire from the ground.’
On 10 September he was officially posted to No.10 Squadron, also at Dishforth in North Yorkshire near to Harrogate, and also flying the Whitley. His first raid had been whilst he was with this squadron but not officially posted, but having been so, he now once again flew and alternated as pilot with Sergeant Verstage during another nickel raid, this to Bremen that also constituted a reconnaissance off Hamburg and the surrounding district. One again he encountered no opposition.
October 1939 saw three more nickel raids, being assigned to Berlin on 15 September, but his aircraft ‘had to turn back because the Whitley was absolutely covered in ice. I lost all control of flaps and ailerons.’ Sergeant Verstage was his second pilot for this mission, with Hillary the Captain. They switched roles for the nickel raid to Bremen on 18 October, when the ‘starboard engine extractor went unserviceable over Germany’ and it ‘was so damned cold I had to be actually treated for frostbite when we got home.’ His final nickel raid of the month was successfully completed to Berlin on 24 October, during which his log book records ‘first sight of flaming onions’. The book added: ‘With a fabric covered aircraft these were a very nasty threat. The onions came from a 37 mm calibre gun, like a Gatling gun, which fired out flares from five barrels up to a height of 5,000. They were so close together that they looked like onions.’ On his return, he and his crew along with others received a certificate for having participated in this sortie over Berlin. This certificate, whilst not present with the group, is printed in colour within the book.
On 20 November with a Flying Officer Patterson as first pilot, he flew a nickel raid to Bremen, noting this as an ‘uneventful trip’, and on 24 November moved with his squadron to Kinloss, the intention being to bomb the German warship ‘Deutschland’, the lead ship of her class of heavy destroyers. She was on a mission to see out and any merchant ships and sink or capture them. By deployed to Kinloss on the north east coast of Scotland, the ‘Deutschland’ was put off her prey, and ‘thanks to our efforts left empty handed.’ She had ‘steamed out of range’ before the squadron deployed on the operation. His squadron flew back to Dishforth on 28 November. Then on 3 December he flew to France on a nickel raid, but the weather was dreadful and the raid was not carried out, his aircraft having to land at Linton on its return owing to cloud being down to 300 feet. The weather was only suitable for local flying for the remainder of that month.
At advent of 1940 saw the last of the nickel dropping raids that he flew to Bremen on 4 January. His log book notes: ‘heavy anti-aircraft fire encountered, fairly accurate. Crashed on landing at base, striking tree with wing-tip on glide-in.’ This incident was recorded in the London Gazette, that ‘was not how I wanted to be remembered but…
“Whitley K9020 at Dishforth airfield. During the evening of 4th January 1940 the crew of this aircraft were one of two 10 Squadron crews tasked with operational flying. This aircraft took off at around 15.00 hrs tasked with a “nickel” leaflet dropping flight over Bremen but on their return to land at base this aircraft made a long and flat approach to land at Dishforth as there was indication that the brake pressure was low. Flying at night the crew failed to notice a line of trees and they clipped one of these trees on approach to land at Dishforth. The aircraft’s starboard undercarriage collapsed after a heavy landing just before midnight. The crew escaped serious injury. Records made at the time on the file of the wireless operator, suggested he was killed in this incident. This error only came to light in 1944 when the airman was recommended for Commission and the medical officer examining him found the entry in his records stating he had died some four years previously!’
For this incident, Hillary was second pilot to Flying Officer (No.37478) Victor Roberton Paterson, with the observer being Sergeant (No.580776) Henry John Davis, the resurrected wireless operator being Aircraftsman (No.551807) William Ronald Armstrong, and the air gunner being Aircraftsman (No.551737) Bert Llewellyn Henry.
Hillary would note in the book on page 36 that ’this was not to be my only prang, but more of that later.’
The next few months were to be fairly quiet, and he delivered ‘stores’ to Sister in France on 21 January, having flown through Abingdon to pick up said stores. On 16 March he flew a reconnaissance over the Ruhr Valley and Rhine, and landed at Sister in France, before returning to Dishforth on 18 March. He then performed another reconnaissance of the same area, namely the Ruhr Valley on 22 March, and this time encountered fighter patrols. Despite no engagement having taken place, he was the only pilot on this occasion, and would be recorded as saying: ‘To actually be engaged in a fight for your survival and, to have the responsibility for four other crew members at the same time, was a heavy responsibility for a 23 year old, but I couldn’t really see much choice. This was war and certain things just had to be done and got through and, fortunately, we did.’
He would further note that ‘our planes and equipment were under a lot of stress from all the constant flying’, this being the case when on 15 April he was tasked with a bombing mission to an unspecified target, but had to abort and return early owing to his intercom having died completely. ‘I couldn’t talk to anyone else on board and I couldn’t raise control at all.’
On 4 May he flew a security patrol over the island of Sylt, just west of Denmark. He would later live near to there, having emigrated to Hundested were he would be when he died in 1995.
The Germans had now invaded France and the Low Countries, and the Phoney-war period was over. As such on 15 May he flew his first bombing mission, this being to attack a petrol store in the Ruhr Valley. He would recall: ‘What a mess! We lit up the sky.’ Two days later on 17 May he bombed an oil refinery at Bremen, and on 20 May he attacked enemy communications behind the front lines, when ‘we destroyed the viaduct at Mont D’Origny and did some damage to other communications like road and rail’ this being at Hirson. On 24 May he bombed the road and rail junction at Mons, and on the very next night, 25 May, bombed the oil refinery south of Dusseldorf. On the 27 May he ‘made a mess of the railway junction at Duisdorf. His book recalls that ‘we were really showing the Nazis we meant business and there was no let up in June.’
On both 1 and 3 June he bombed the oil refinery at Homburg, and ‘the two strikes on one place left its mark.’ On 6 June he bombed the railway marshalling yards at Euskirchen, and on 8 June, the rail junction at a place called Wedau. The next night, 9 June he was back over Duisburg, this time to ‘destroy the marshalling yard.’ He would recall that ‘the missions were constant and, of course, the Germans were doing the same to London and other cities in England. This wasn’t a one-sided fight. We were playing catch-up and the whole business was putting an enormous strain on our production lines, our training and on all the young men, like myself, who were actively engaged in flying high over Germany night after night to deliver the lethal cocktail of bombs which would hopefully shorten the War.’
On 17 June he bombed the marshalling yards at Gelsenkirchen, and on 18 June attacked similar at Schwerte, following this with a further attack on marshalling yards, this time Hamm on 20 June. On the following night, 21 June, he bombed the oil refinery at Bochum, and on 23 June the aluminium works at Ichendorf, this being followed by the docks at Duisburg on 27 June. The month was finished off with another attack on the marshalling yards a Hamm on 30 June, giving it ‘a good pasting’.
‘On the domestic front, Anne announced that she was pregnant. This was fantastic news, but what kind of world were we going to bring a child into? And her being pregnant and my night-time job certainly brought a strain to our marriage. I was never the most even tempered of people in civilian life, with a fiery temper to much my fiery red hair - old cliche but true. I took to spending most of the day in bed, knowing that I would be out dropping bombs all over Germany by the time midnight came each day.’
On 13 July he bombed Mannheim, and when over Hamburg on 20 July, he found the cloud cover so dense that he couldn’t see the target, but on 22 July successfully bombed the Focke Wulf aircraft factory at Bremen ‘with everything we had.’ On 2 August he bombed the oil refinery at Salzbergen, and on 11 August he was over the Ruhr ‘and laying fire leaves’. Up to now he had been flying the Whitley IV and V on operations, and the sortie of 11 August was his last of his first tour, he having complete 30 missions.
He would record in the book ‘I had now flown 965 hours and flown 30 missions over enemy skies. I was going to be a Dad in the coming year. My marriage was a bit shaky and I was 24 years old, though sometimes it felt like a hundred. The Whitley and I had become firm friends. I trust her now and most of her teething troubles were gone. She shook and rattled like a bag of bolts but she’d always made it there and brought me and my crew home safely. They even gave me a gong for getting her and the crew back more or less in one piece.’
The original recommendation for his award of the Distinguished Flying Medal made back on 22 June 1940 reads as follows:’This Non Commissioned Officer displays a fine sense of devotion to duty and integrity. He seldom fails to complete a mission successfully. He has shown himself to be a most proficient Captain and is a source of inspiration to all his crew and his flight.’ Hillary’s award of the Distinguished Flying Medal was published in the London Gazette for 30 July 1940.
Hillary did not fly at all between 11 August 1940 and 16 February 1941, but in the meantime he had been commissioned into the Royal Air Force as a Pilot Officer (No.45122) on 1 January 1941 for service with the General Duties Branch, and he was then posted to 35 Squadron at R.A.F. Linton-on-Ouse in Yorkshire, this being a heavy bombe unit, with Hillary noted as an ‘above the average’ Captain of Heavy Bomber Aircraft when his report was made of his time with 10 Squadron, this being written on 27 January 1941, at the time of his joining 35 Squadron.
His commissioning ‘was a great honour and I was very proud. Anne is pleased because we can afford better living quarters, of course, and access to the Officer’s Mess. Dad was as proud as punch when I wrote and told him. He’s somewhere in Egypt, aged 52, serving with the Royal Army Pay Corps. He’s going to break his ankle in in June and end up in hospital. Silly beggar!’ They would be re-united later in the war when in Egypt.
Hillary was posted to ‘A’ Flight, his unit being equipped with the Halifax bomber, being the first squadron to be equipped with this new aircraft that had a crew of seven, and he got acquainted with his aircraft during February 1941, during which month he flew on there local flights in the cockpit with another pilot who was taking him through the ropes, this being the then ‘Flying Officer Cheshire’ as his log notes with ‘(now V.C.)’ added later. This was the future Group Captain Geoffrey Leonard Cheshire, Baron Cheshire, V.C., O.M., D.S.O. and two Bars, D.F.C. Cheshire was in the cockpit with Hillary when the later flew his first solo in a Halifax on 23 February 1941.
35 Squadron formed part of No.4 Group, and Hillary sortie to the docks at Le Havre on 10 March, marked the very first operational raid that Halifax bombers flew in. His crew comprised a Sergeant Godwin as co-pilot; Sergeant Gibb as flight engineer; Sergeant Chalmers as navigator; Sergeant Robinson as radio operator and mid-upper gunner; and Sergeant Willingham as rear gunner. The docks were partially obscured by cloud but a successful level attack was delivered from 10,400 feet; enough for one medium-sized fire. No other results were observed owing to rapid deterioration of weather conditions. Coastal defences endeavoured to give location of fighter patrol but without success; only slight medium and light flak encountered, and few searchlights.’ This was Hillary’s only operational sortie for that month, and the rest of the time he spent on training flights over the North Sea, ‘testing our guns and practicing, practicing, practicing.’ On 23 March whilst in the process of landing, his tail wheel collapsed, otherwise all was uneventful. However this month also saw the birth of his first child, a daughter named Paula, ‘a bonny baby, though, as I said before, God knows what kind of a world she will grow up in.’ His second and final sortie with 35 Squadron occurred on 15 April with a raid on Kiel, and in the following month he was posted to 76 Squadron at Middleton Saint George near to Darlington in County Durham.
This squadron, also a part of No.4 Group of Bomber Command, was the second to be equipped with the Halifax bomber, he being assigned to the squadron owing to having some combat experience in the new aircraft and forming part of ‘A’ Flight. On 12 June he took off on operations, destination not given, but had to turn back ‘due to high speed super charger not functioning properly.’ The super charger was to fault again during a local flight on 16 June, and when testing it, the ‘undercarriage down lights went’ making for ‘lots of fun and games landing’ as his log book records. On 20 June he then completed his first sortie with 76 Squadron, a raid on Kiel, but the target was obscured by 10/10 clouds. Six days later on 26 june he was back over Kiel, and although there was a lot of cloud obscuring the target, he nevertheless noted in his log book that he ‘left a fire burning.’
On 1 July, Hillary found himself promoted to temporary Flight Lieutenant, and then to Acting Squadron Leader, when he seems to have taken command of the flight for a period. On 2 July he flew a bombing mission to Bremen, during which he noted the I.F.F. (Identification Friend or Foe) as being ’singularly useful in defeating searchlights’ but that the I.F.F. then ‘blew up on landing’. That same night he remarkably flew a second sortie, this time to Magdeburg near to Berlin, noting that ‘their blackout was very bad which just made our job a lot easier’. This was a very successful mission. On 8 July he was back balls-deep over Germany when he attacked the oil refineries at Leuna. Most of the attacks on Leuna would be made later in the war by the United States Army Air Force who practiced precision daylight bombing. Leuna covered three square miles of land with 250 buildings, including decoy buildings outside the main plant, and employed 35,000 workers (including 10,000 prisoner and slave labourers). The 14th Flak Division, responsible for protecting Leuna had 28,000 troops, 18,000 RAD personnel, 6,000 male and 4,050 female auxiliaries, 900 Hungarian and Italian volunteers, 3,600 Russian Hiwis, and 3,000 others, thus making a total of 62,550 personnel. More than 19,000 of Leuna’s workers were members of the air raid protection organisation which operated over 600 radar-directed guns, and the fire-fighting force consisted of 5,000 men and women. During the war a total of 6,552 bomber sorties made by two Royal Air Force attacks and 20 Eighth Air Force attacks, dropped some 18,328 tons of bombs on Leuna. It was the most important of the oil refineries within Nazi Germany. For Hillary’s part, his aircraft bombed the target but was badly shot up on the return journey when over the Ruhr. Hillary would recall that ‘it was a very clear night with great visibility, and we watched as a German fighter attacked Squadron Leader Bickford as he flew over Holland. His aircraft was directly below us, frustratingly, there was clearly absolutely nothing we could do but press on him. I had a crew to save and a plane to preserve. It wasn’t fun though.’ Bickford and his crew survived this incident however, only to be killed later that same year owing to an engine failure on take-off.
Hillary later penned a note concerning what he and the other crews went through: ‘Sit above a burning city and read your maps by the light of the fires on the ground below. that’s power - and all the time you are hoping to dislodge the anti-aircraft shells and praying even if you don’t believe in God, that the fighter’s won’t single you out and you, crashing in flames, then the flight back to base. Always in the back of your mind those people on the ground, maimed, crippled, blasted to eternity. The times you were caught by the lights, and fought your way out of it, to arrive back and find that Jim or Charles or Pip hadn’t arrived back. Switching off the engine and sitting there in the sudden wealthy silence. Wonder what it was all about.’
On 14 July he flew in a sortie to bomb Hanover, and on the return journey whilst over the Dutch Coast, the inner port engine failed. Hillary would recall that ‘somehow I got us all back to Norfolk, where we did a forced landing at Bicham Newton. The next sortie was an important mission, this being to attack the German battleship Scharnhorst on 24 July, she being then docked in La Pallice at La Rochelle. Hillary would recall that: ‘We scored five hits almost in a straight line along the starboard side. We also knocked out her gun turrets and half her anti-aircraft battery and she was listing quite badly as we flew off. Incredibly, after the pasting we’d given her, she still limped into Brest for repairs the next day. His aircraft returned with one high speed supercharger unserviceable. The final operation of the month was to Cologne on 30 July. ‘Here we took a battering, not from the Germans but from really bad electrical storms. They’re quite common in late July over Europe. It’s such a big landmass and the heat just builds and builds. The cloud over the target was 10/10 but we still dropped our bombs.’
Whilst still in command of ‘A’ Flight, Hillary bombed Cologne on 16 August, landing with brake pressure on his return. He recalled that ‘I had to do a really long taxi-ing manoeuvre on landing as the brake pressure had gone completely on that one. Then on 29 August he flew another mission to Cologne. This time his crew were tasked with taking out the searchlights. ‘We did. The searchlights were no help that night to the defence of Cologne.’
This marked a break period in his second tour of operations, but also saw the recommendation come through for his award of the Distinguished Flying Cross, that reads as follows: ‘Acting Squadron Leader Hillary is a captain of aircraft and a flight commander of outstanding courage and ability. He has been operating continuously since war began, and has never shown signs of tiredness or waning enthusiasm. He is always eager for any job he undertakes, and never leaves it until it is successfully completed. When returning from Hanover on once occasion, the port inner engine of Squadron Leader Hillary’s aircraft failed completely when over the Dutch coast. He remained unperturbed, set course for the Norfolk Coast, and landed safely on three engines.’
Hillary’s award of the Distinguished Flying Cross was announced in the London Gazette for 30 January 1942.
Having performed some local flights throughout September and well into October 1941, and totalled some 1,109 hours and 35 minutes flying time, on 25 October 1941 he was posted to Abingdon for a Blind Approach Course,, and was back flying Whitley’s. It was a two week course, and he then rejoined 76 Squadron in early November, and on 7 November participated in another operation, but whilst on the way out was forced to turn back at the Ditch Coast ‘due to excessive petrol consumption in the port outer engine, cutting endurance by 2 hours’. He recalled that ‘the needle was just whizzing down. I knew I didn’t have enough to make the full flight there and back.’
At the end of that month his second tour officially came to an end, having completed a further 14 sorties to add to his previous number of 30, therefore 44 in all, and he was posted off the squadron to attend the Central Flying School for the Operational Training Unit’s Instructor’s Course. He flew Oxford aircraft in this period, and on 29 December managed to prang an aircraft when landing, owing to overshooting when one engine failed to pick up.
Hillary saw service with 1652 Halifax Conversion Unit at Marston Moor in Yorkshire between 25 January 1942 and 12 April 1943, a period spent teaching new pilots and crews in the use of the Halifax. He was promoted to Wing Commander on 3 May 1942, this being an outstanding achievement when considering he was a Sergeant in September 1939. He was bitterly disappointed to not be allowed to fly in Bomber Command’s first 1000 bomber raid when it targeted Cologne on 30 May, even inscribing in his log book on that day: ‘Thousand Plan, not allowed to Go!!!!’
Despite being in the relatively safe position of commanding a training unit, Hillary was clearly intent on operational flying come what may, and he flew on the ‘2nd Millennium’ second thousand bomber sortie when it targeted Bremen on 25 June, noting in his log book that it was ‘practically a daylight raid.’ He recalled in his memoirs: ‘I took some of our youngsters with me, feeling that I could keep them safe. Our Squadron (the 1652 Halifax Conversion Unit) lost nobody that night. Bremen was a mess. The sky was growing lighter as I landed at Marston. I went in first so I could congratulate all our pilots. They hadn’t been perfect but they had kept their cool heads in a tricky situation and I was proud of them.’ As for the first thousand bomber raid, Bomber Harris had borrowed aircraft and crews from all over, including the training units, in order to field the number of aircraft that he required. Having congratulated his pilots, Hillary added: ‘It must have been about six o’clock when I strolled up to our doorway. I sat on the step for a moment, finishing my cigarette and planning the debriefing for later that day, thought about more practice for formation flying. It looked like it was going to be a nice day. I flicked the butt and creaked onto my feet and then I went in. There was no-one there. A note from Anne lay on the table. She’d left and taken Paula with her. I never saw Paula again. Ever.’
Hillary continues: ‘As I said earlier it was a confusing and very busy time. I threw myself into my work and ignored sideways looks from the men. I still had a job to finish and the flying had to go on and it did. We flew every day, hurrying to complete training as quickly as possible so that Bomber Command could have more and more experienced pilots. I got hold of a Tiger Moth and this really brought the fun back to flying for a while. Oh and a little Miles Falcon, which was great for nipping out to a crash scene or escorting the trainees in the air. And on the 25th August, while air testing a Halifax after it had been in for some repairs. an engine cut off on take-off and my logbook entry reminds me how very nearly famous I was on that day: “Nearly hit York Minster”. Now, that would have made the headlines.’
Hillary then summed up: ‘The year was completed in its awfulness on the 29th December when I crashed coming into land; three people were injured, including myself. Nothing too serious, just a few twists and bruises.’ Whilst remaining in command of his unit, he did no flying again until 4 March, and having handing over command, ‘my job was done; all systems were in place. The unit could run itself now.’ On 12 April 1943, Hillary was posted to join the North West African Air Force Command when in charge of No.7 Ferry Control Unit, tasked to fly anything that needed to be delivered anywhere in North Africa. ‘To be honest, after four years non-stop in England, I needed a break.’ He flew out to join his unit at Ras El Ma in Morocco. ‘I had no idea what to expect in Morocco. It wasn’t something you trained for in Lambeth…. It was like landing in heaven. I stepped off the transport plane onto the rough airfield at Ras El Ma and just breathed deeply. Warm Mediterranean air flowed all round. The sky was blu with not a cloud in sight. It seemed a universe away from the grey skies over Germany and night after night of driving, first a Whitley, then a Halifax, all the way to a target, dodging nosy searchlights and avoiding ack-ack and flares and yet, the war was here too, in all its glory; more men killing other men, tanks thundering across the desert sands, fighters buzzing angrily overhead and troops marching with sand in their socks and lips cracked by the heat. Yes, this was definitely another universe.’
it was here at Ras El Ma that he first flew a Spitfire on 12 May. ‘I had spent four years, virtually every night feeling for every tremor and pitch change with my fingers and now I had this racing car of the skies.’ He subsequently got to fly a Hurricane, ‘the fulfilment of my boyhood dreams.’ He recalled that ‘she wasn’t as quick as the Spitfire but this was a plane you could throw around the sky and trust. She was beautiful.’ It was not all about flying new aircraft however, and the real reason for his being posted to command the ferry unit was that ‘as a Wing Commander with ribbons and experience I had been charged with sorting out the Ferry Unit. Casualties were high. There had been so many accidents in the unit that it was an embarrassment. They were having between 10 and 15 accidents a month. Their job was to pick up repaired planes and getvthem safely to where they were needed. Clearly they were failing. My job, simply put, was to sort it out. And I did.’
‘Discipline was first. Maybe because the men respected the D.F.C. and the D.F.M.; maybe because they’d heard about what we’d been up to over in Yorkshire and in Germany, whatever it was, they responded quickly and brilliantly. Within a week it was a changed place. They ignored the heat. The air of laziness and “What’s the point?” had gone. They were busy and much much happier. I gave lectures on navigation, airmanship, meteorology and we practiced drill after drill with the men working as a crew, till I was happy that they understood. We had one accident in my time at 7 Ferry Unit! I had also been asked to check out routes from Nigeria in West Africa through Sudan, Saudi Arabia and on up to Karachi and India. I made out a report on every station and stop on the whole route. Both were jobs I enjoyed doing and was good at.’
He was in himself lucky however when flew a Hurricane from Sale to Ras El Ma on 2 September and he ‘collapsed on trip’, and ‘have been taken off flying’. Not for long however as he was back in the air again on 10 September, when h flew a Dakota with 12 passengers aboard to attend the Court Martial of a Squadron Leader Chamberlain. Then at the end of September 1943 he was posted to 216 (Transport) Squadron, having lost the acting rank of Wing Commander and reverted to Squadron Leader on his being appointed deputy commanding officer of the squadron. This unit, a Dakota unit, was based near to Cairo, and operated as far as Karachi. Around this time ‘the move to free the Greek Islands from the Germans was in full swing and, being the nearest, we were pretty much involved in this campaign.’
On 12 October he dropped supplies on Leros Island, and ‘we could see that they were having lots of fun and games on nearby Rhodes with explosions and air activity. This flight counted as another operational mission and so my tally began to rise again. He now had some operational sorties to his tally if you count those which were not fully completed owing to having to turn back for one reason or another. Five days later on 17 October he ‘dropped supplies blind’ for them at exactly the agreed time. ‘We couldn’t see thing so we were pleased when we heard it had been a very successful drop.’
On 1 November he ‘was delighted to meet a 55 year old Colonel in the Greek Army. He was twice my age and here he was, clambering into the Dakota with his men, the Sacred Brigade to parachute into Samos.’ His log book records that he was involved ‘dropping 20 Paratroops, Greek Sacred Squadron on island of Samos’. Hillary would recall that ‘these were some of the bravest men I’ve ever known.’ On 15 November he flew another supply dropped operation on Leros, the being ‘very uneventful’. He flew in support of the soldiers on Samos on 18 November: ‘We dropped supplies at night for them, so they were still battling away with our boys. This was a bit different to flights over the Ruhr. I spotted one searchlight along the Turkish Coast. Nevertheless on the ground it was a different matter. Of the 1000 Special Forces troops dropped onto Samos, only 300 eventually returned.
On 24 December he ‘got to play Father Christmas. We loaded up the plane and flew from Alexandria in Egypt to El Adem to make a very special delivery. The log book records: ‘Delivering Christmas Turkeys for Boys in the Desert.’ He would encounter very bad weather with severe icing over Italy during a flight from Malta to Bari on 27 December. He was made to bring his aircraft in to land on mud at Bari when facing 45 m.p.h and 90 degree crosswinds. All was well however, and he returned to Malta on 29 December, and then flew back to Cairo later that same day.
‘And so began 1944. We were kept busy with supplies and troops, ferrying to and fro all our routes, but nothing much happened out of the ordinary for the next six months.’
On 14 June 1944 he assumed command of No.71 Staging Pos at Biskra in northern Algeria, and additionally assumed command of No.3 Aircraft Delivery unit at Oujda from 24 August, balancing both jobs at once. His units were very busy taking aircraft in and out of Algeria. ‘It was pretty much non-stop keeping up with demand and, as soon as the aircrew had got something ready, we tested it and got it back in action as quickly as possible. And the year 1944 just sped by.’
On 26 January 1945 whilst still in his post, he flew a Hurricane in ‘formation low level support’ of the French 43rd Regiment Infanterie Coloniale who were conducting manoeuvres in the desert. In the book Hillary confusingly refers to this as he ‘just kept a wary eye out for German troops and looked after them from the air. It was all low level stuff and pretty exciting for a transport pilot, as I’d become.’ The German troops referred to are believed to by Arab tribesmen who were still supporting the Germans. Then he writes further that when flying a Hurricane on ‘9th of February, at El Taourit, things got nastier and i had to perform a series of low flying attacks to protect them. They were king enough to present me with their badge of honour. I was flattered. It makes a curious addition to the D.F.M. and the D.F.C.’ This badge of honour he refers to was a regimental badge in the form of a keepsake, and is pictured in the book.
Hillary flew home to Hendon in an Expeditur on 20-21 February 1945, but was back at Oujda on 5 March 1945, and his log book records that by this time he had amassed some 1990.50 flying hours, and had flown 38 operational sorties in a Whitley and 15 in a Halifax over enemy occupied Europe, and 4 in a Dakota over the enemy occupied Greek Islands. A total of 57 operational sorties. His two alleged missions in a Hurricane in support of French troops in the Deserts of Algeria do not appear to count.
Hillary was about this begin his third operational tour, this as a Dakota transport pilot in command of No.267 Transport Squadron out in India and Burma and operating against the Japanese.
Then between 15-19 March he flew in a Sunderland Flying Boat as a passenger out from Cairo to Calcutta, and from there on the following day he flew on to Tulinal at Imphal in Burma in a Dakota, back once again as the pilot, but was forced to turn back due to severe tropical storms. The next day, 20 March he finally made it to Tulinal, and on 23 March flew an operational sortie in a Dakota to Akyab at the mouth of the River Kaladan, which was then being wrestled from the hands the Japanese. He recalled that ‘the war in Europe may have been entering its final phase, but here, in Burma things were still going on as normal. Our boys were making good progress but in thick jungle and dreadful weather conditions, things were not easy. The Dakota was ideal. We could carry troops and supplies which could be dropped with a fair amount of accuracy over the mountainous jungle. We even managed a drop of mules to help with transport’. This must have been a sight to see!
As such, on 25 March he flew no less than six operational sorties in one day! He took off from Tulinal and delivered supplies to Mandalay, and then formed similar from Mandalay North to Tulinal, before taking off again on a sortie to Chaunggwa, where he made a landing, and then another from there back to Tulinal, following this with one to Alon where he also made a landing, and finally from there to Tulinal. Mandalay, Chaunggwa and Alon were all cleared airstrips in the jungle, and were all still in enemy territory. ‘We were in enemy territory and a Dakota is not the quietest of aircraft. We were expecting the Japs to drop on us at any moment. I kept the engines ticking over when we were on the ground, for a quick getaway.’
He was now officially posted to No.267 Transport Squadron, and assumed command, and on 27 March the whole Squadron was moved from India to Akyab. The next period saw him and his pilots ‘covering most of India, bringing extra troops and all sorts of equipment up to the frontline in Burma.’ He had now flown 7 operational sorties in Dakota’s over Burma, and in April 1945 he flew six more. On 17 April he flew a supply dropping mission from Akyab to Tatkon, ‘dropping supplies to the front line and return - hell of a lot of activity.’ He performed the exact same sortie on 19 April, and that same day flew a sortie to deliver petrol from Akyab to Myingyan, before flying another sortie from Myingyan to Akyab. On 26 April he flew a sortie from Akyab to Tennant, and on the same day flew another sortie from Tennant to Akyab.’ We could see a hell of a lot of activity on the ground, troops moving, gunfire, shelling and, on that last flight we sported four aircraft carriers just off the coast. The noose was definitely tightening.’
On 2 May 1945 it was D-Day in Rangoon, and in very bad monsoon weather he flew an operational sortie that saw him lead ‘squadron in supply drop. 1st squadron there dropping supplies on beachhead.’ On 3 May, D-Day + 1 at Rangoon, he flew another operational sortie when he ‘led 7 aircraft’ in ‘very bad weather and on instruments in torrential rain. Troops had just landed on beach. Pouring with rain, lot of naval landing craft’. His log book has inserted into it a photograph of how he and his crew looked at that time. Finally as Rangoon was liberated from the Japanese on 4 May, he flew another operational sortie, this being a ‘squadron drop on Rangoon Government House. His log book recalls that he saw ‘crowds in the streets, cheering and waving, on one balcony naked girl waving a towel, we were 1st squadron there.’ Otherwise ‘weather’ had a cloud base of 400’’ and ‘torrential rain.’ He has pasted two loading lists into the log book, both relating to his sorties over Rangoon. He further notes that on ‘D’ + 2, dropped in grounds of Government House Rangoon. British Standard just been raised on flagstaff as we dropped. Streets crowed with Burmese and White people cheering and waving.’ The next two pages of his log book contain five original photographs, all taken from his aircraft, one annotated: ‘Government House Rangoon where we dropped supplies as the Union Jack was being hoisted.’ Another states: ‘Golden Pagoda Rangoon. We did circuits round this drop.’ One more taken from his aircraft and showing another Dakota close by, is annotated: ‘photograph taken as Group Captain Grandy dropped an Union Jack on Rangoon after the supply drop on Government House.’
On 6 May he flew another operational mission dropping supplies on Rangoon, and as the Japanese were finally cleared from the city, and the troops advanced, on that same day he flew another sortie dropping supplies at Pagabyi on the Rangoon road. The recently controlled Japanese airfield at Rangoon was now cleared, and on 8 May he flew two more operational sorties. The first involved him making a landing at Rangoon, and on board her carried 12 passengers and one Jeep. His aircraft was one of the first two authorised to land at Rangoon, and be had aboard Air Marshal Corriton. He then carried the same passengers and jeep on a sortie from Rangoon to Akyab, noting during the flight that ‘Rangoon was just one mass of rubble, nothing left at all.’
Hillary had completed exactly 20 operational sorties in Dakota’s over Burma by this day. Bringing his total so far to 78 operational sorties during the war. Also on this day, 8 May, Sir Winston Churchill announced VE Day, but whilst Burma, owing to the capture of Rangoon, could be considered now in Allied hands, the Japanese would not formally surrender until 15 August 1945.
During June, and in the heart of the monsoon season, he flew three more operational sorties, all on 27 June. Hillary first delivered supplies to Tougoo, and second flew a mission from there to Rangoon, and thirdly from there to Akyab. This was his last operational sortie of the war, bringing his total to 81 operational missions, wit 28 having involved him performing supply and troop dropping in the Middle East and Burma. He only flew two most non operational flights, and his last wartime flight, and also his last in the Royal Air Force, occurred on 2 August 1945 when he flew from Akyab to Calcutta with 20 passengers aboard. The severe monsoon weather had put paid to any other flights in the intervening period. He had amassed an impressive total of 2,106 hours and 45 minutes of flying time. He proudly note: ‘I am 28 years old. I’ve flown 81 missions, achieved the rank of Wing Commander, been awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross and a Distinguished Flying Medal and that’s it - end of story - all over.’
‘WhenI got back from Burma I had an interview. It was to discuss my future. My 10 years were up. The war was over. They really wouldn’t need an over-qualified, over-experienced Bomber Pilot with medals all over his chest. Suddenly, that world was blinking out of existence. This was made very clear to me at my meeting. “So, you want to sign up again eh, Wing Commander. Jolly good! He paused, wondering how to phrase the next thought.
“Thing is, old chap, we shan’t be needing, erm, so many chaps, don’t you know.”
“I’ve got a place though, haven’t I?” I was beginning to wonder.
“Of course. Of course. Not going to just chuck you out on the street!” He laughed, far too loudly.
“No, No,” he went on, ”you’d have to take a drop from Wing Co of course.:” He paused, pointing his pencil at me and waiting.
“A drop?”
“You can have a commission as a Flight Lieutenant. There. How’s about it, old boy? What d’ye say? Eh?”
I stood up slowly and came to attention. I then threw him the smartest longest-way-up-shortest-way-down salute of my career.
“With respect, Sir. You can stick that right up your arse. Sir!” I turned one hundred and eighty degrees and marched smartly out through the deafening silence. That was the inglorious end to my R.A.F. career; at least in civilian times.’
Hillary’s log book does not stop there however, and on 15 April 1946 he begins his entries again, this time recording that he had joined Scottish Airways Ltd at Renfrew. He began flying the de Havilland DH.89 Dragon Rapide on flights in and around Scotland and its islands, some times flying over to Belfast in Northern Ireland. By May 1946 he was also once again piloting Dakotas. The last entry in his flying log book occurred on 8 July 1946, when he then switched to a civilian log book that is not longer present.
His reminiscences of Scottish flying one can only expect. ‘The job entailed flying out to the islands and round about. It wasn’t exciting, but it was a job and it was flying. The weather was the real downer though after North Africa, India and Burma. I was permanently cold with an incessantly dripping nose. The winds were always strong, sometimes lethal. The rain drove coldly across the cockpit nearly all the time.’
The published book continues his story. He was asked to become Chief Pilot of Aer Rianta, the Are Lingus charter division in May 1947, and was tasked to set up the transatlantic part of the business, but this latter fell through, when priorities shifted. He recalls that on 28 July 1947 on his return from Shannon, he ‘collapsed with malaria on arrival at Dublin.’ He adds further: ‘no wonder I longed to escape Northern Europe.’
Having remarried, this time to Norah, a girl in Belfast, he was offered a job with East African Airways out at Nairobi in Kenya. He jumped on it, and was soon out there. ‘It was a joy to be back in Africa,, leaving the cold and the damp of Scotland and Ireland behind. The sun shone and it was warm. Flying was fun again.’ Passenger flights were one thing, but he recalled ‘we were trail blazing, setting up new routes, finding new airstrips and opening up the whole of central Africa from coast to coast. We flew to Leopoldville in the Belgium Congo. We went all the way to Durban in South Africa. We even went over to Somalia, to Mogadishu.’
He was back flying predominantly in the Dragon Rapids as well as the Dove, both of which could take eight passengers at a time and ‘we were really in the process of setting up a regular airline with scheduled flights and reliability. Aviation was taking a huge step forward.’
‘Of course, conditions were not always favourable. The storms and the rain were alarming. The runways were mainly bits of open land that had been cleared specially for us and the planes needed constant attention. In those days, on your own, in the middle of nowhere, you had to have a pretty good idea of how to clean a carburettor or charge a plug or you and your passengers might not be making it to your destination.’
There were pros and cons. “Herds of elephant seen and hippos” on 4 May 1948; “Struck sisal pole with port wing tip, landing at Mikindani. Tore fabric. Effected a temporary repair, but it wouldn’t hold in the air” on 6 August 1948. “Hit a bump coming round Mt. Moduli. One passenger hit the roof and burst through plywood. Luckily he didn’t go through the fabric as well”, this on 30 August 1948. Then “passenger collapsed between Tabora and Uramba, heart attack. Almost died on landing”, this on 5 November 1948. A few days later on 17 November, ”port engine caught fire in air. 80 miles from Base. Made it Ok.” On 20 January 1949: “Struck a Kitehawk on take-off. Returned. Damaged aircraft.”
His son Nigel Hillary was born in 1950, his wife having travelled back to Belfast to give birth, and he flew them both out to Kenya later. In 1952 he had a test flight for Sabena in a C47, and the company offered him a job . The political situation in Kenya was then ‘getting a bit dicey’ with the onset of the May Mau Rebellion imminent, and he took the job and moved with his family to the Belgian Congo. There he flew for Sabena, the Belgian World Airlines, in Lodestar, DC4 and finally DC6 aircraft. ‘Passenger planes were carrying more and more people and were becoming capable of longer and longer flights.’ He flew with Sabena between 1952 and 1960. In 1956 his daughter was born in the Belgian Congo, that was renamed Zaire in 1958. His flying hours were now over 6,000 by this point.
When the Belgian Congo became Zaire, ‘there was a huge amount of upheaval. Moise Tshombe was the leader of Katanga and in direct opposition to Patrice Lumumba in the Congo. I was asked to become the former’s personal pilot and did so for a time, until that is, we all got arrested and thrown into an internment camp. For six weeks. On my release, Sabena sent me to Libya to work the oilfields.’ As the Congo dissolved into bloodshed, his family left for safety, and his son went to boarding school in Northern Ireland.
’So, my advance up the aviation ladder would be postponed fro a few years as I served out some time in Libya.’ This owing to his association and internment with Moise Tshombe, the former leader of Katanga. Hillary would recall of Tshombe, ‘He seemed an honest man, but fell victim to his troubled times, snd ended his days in some dubious manner in North Africa.’
Oil had just been discovered in Libya, and Gulf, Texaco, BP etc were all there. Based either in Tripoli or Benghazi, the oilmen would spent three weeks in the field, and a week out of it. They were flown to and from the oil wells, with Hillary being one of the pilots, flying the DC3. Whilst there the Royal Air Force still had a presence, and Hillary was made an honorary member of the Officer’s Mess at Idris Airport.
On 17 February 1964 he returned to what was now the Democratic Republic of the Congo, having transferred from Tripoli to Kinshasa, and a week later found himself employed flying President Kasavuba, the First President of the Democratic Republic. ‘I really hoped he would hang around for a bit. In fact he lasted for a whole year till Mobutu staged a coup and got rid of him.’ He was now back in DC4’s and flying the long haul routes, and moved on to the DC6 in May 1965. He was now living in Zaire, and by not wanting to endanger his family, owing to the Congo being pretty much on a knife edge, he kept his ‘head down and kept flying.’
In 1967 he spent a week in Toulouse training to pilot the jet passenger aircraft, the Caravelle, and whilst there ‘Brian Trubshaw was zooming round the sky, nearly blowing us out of it, in his Concorde.’ He then spent the next two years flying the Caravelle out of Kinshasa. In March 1969 he converted for the DC8 over in the United States at Washington and New York, and noting that he ‘was now familiar with jets. Bit of a change from the Blackburn B2 Trainer in 1935.’ This training program was conducted by Pan Am Airways. With the DC8 he then flew mainly from Kinshasa to Brussels, as well as Athens, Romes, Paris, Geneva and Nice.
‘The day of the big jets had arrived. As part of Air Zaire, the then flew in the Boing 747 as First Pilot. ‘We could take about 500 passengers on each flight now. She had a range of 6,000 miles and a speed of .89 of the speed of sound.’
Hillary’s final change came in May 1975 when he trained on the DC10 in Long Beach, California, and flew her for Sabena for the rest of his flying career. In a DC10 on 26 August 1977 he flew from Brussels to Rome and then to Kinshasa ‘for my very last flight as a civilian airline pilot.’
Hillary latterly lived at Hundested in Denmark, where he died on 17 December 1995, being buried in the graveyard there, that is ‘overlooking the harbour, right under the very sky’, he ‘flew over in a Whitley in 1939.’
