Robert Morton

I was delighted to be contacted by Bob in December 2001, which led to me visiting him in February 2002. The conversation was quite wide-ranging, and not necessarily in chronological order. I have rearranged the notes to present matters in a linear fashion for the reader's benefit. As can be seen if you follow the link to this photo, Bob is quite a dapper gent who took me by surprise when our chat started with a glass of claret!

Robert was born near London in 1920, moving up to Hull at the age of 3. His family were theatrical types, his mother and father performing a comedy duo as the "Mixed Pickles". They were particularly well received on their two South African tours, before and after World War I.

Bob's love affair with aeroplanes started at an early age. When he was 9 his friends marched him down to the library and announced "He wants to join", and on doing so he was presented with the Bumper Book of Aeroplanes - compulsory reading in his peer group. Except only Bob actually read it rather than just looking at the pictures. His subsequent practising of manoeuvres whilst perched on top of a leaf-table in the attic assured Bob of his position as gang expert on all things aeronautical.

This interest in aviation led to Bob becoming an apprentice at Blackburn, and he was already a member of the Volunteer Reserve when war was declared.

Along with all other Reservists, Bob (now 18 years old) was called up to report to the town centre which he duly did. The office had a single clerk who was unable to deal with all the men present, so he told them to go home and report again next day. This pattern continued for a week, at which point they were told to report back to their normal jobs and phone in every day.

When the paper work was finally settled, Bob was sent to St. Leonards (near Hastings) for Initial Training. Because of the lack of aircraft he was there for 7 months. He then went to the Elementary Flight Training School (EFTS) at Brough, and from there to Cranwell for Intermediate training on Hawker Harts. Advanced training was done on Hawker Hinds.

He finally went to the Operational Training Unit (OTU) at Hawarden, where after a spell on the Miles Master he converted to Spitfires.

On October 12th Robert was posted to 74 Sqn at Coltishall with a total of 9.5 hours on Spitfires. Shortly afterwards they were posted to Biggin Hill, but he found that although he was allocated to 'B' flight he wasn't on the board for flying. This carried on for day after day, being put down to a shortage of aircraft. Eventually he approached the C.O., asking for either flying duties or to be posted. Which is why on November 8th he arrived at Kirton-in-Lindsey as part of 616 Sqn.

This is where he first met "Cocky" Dundas. Arriving at the dispersal hut he found it empty except for Dundas who was sat next to a portable radio whilst talking on the telephone. Every now and then Dundas would place the handset against the radio and turn it up to full volume. Eventually he announced that he was getting bad interference on the line!

Those familiar with photos of Dundas will know how he towered over everybody, especially Bob who at 5'3" had difficulty convincing the powers-that-be that he'd be able to fly without problems. Bob tells the story about the Wing preparing to take off, with all the Spitfires lined up around the field. The take off was towards Dundas' plane at the end of the line, and as each Spitfire came down the field he lowered his cockpit seat, raising it again as they passed overhead.

Bob's log book shows his first flight with 616 was on 8 November from Kirton-in-Lindsay.

This is probably a good point to explain how his nickname of "Butch" arose. After a while with 616 the other pilots declared they could not keep calling him "Sgt Morton" and he must have another name they could use. Putting on an American drawl Bob said "Well, jes' call me Butch". It stuck.

When the Eagle squadron arrived at Kirton they did a low-level beat up of the field. Although enthusiastic it was rather ragged, and 'Billy' Burton took Bob up to show how it should be done. Prior to this Bob had been having problems with close formation flying, as his Spitfire was taking quite a buffeting and he was having to fight the joystick all the time. He realised that the vortex from the wingtip of the formation leader was sending turbulent air down onto his wing. By moving really close he could tuck his wing in so the rough air went over the top off his wing and came down behind it. It was by flying like this that 'Billy' and 'Butch' did their own grass-cutting beat up of the field. Although Bob takes pride in his formation flying he says it couldn't have been possible if 'Billy' wasn't such a capable and smooth-flying formation leader.

The next stage of the story is after the move to Tangmere and the start of operations under the command of Douglas Bader.

Bob explained that as a member of 'B' flight he was based in a different dispersal hut from 'A' flight, so the people he knew were Marples, Jenks, Crabtree and Gibbs. He was also great friends with McCairns, who he later met briefly as a POW. Pilots like Johnson and West in 'A' flight would only be seen during a full squadron briefing if Burton felt the need to call one.

There is a stereotype of the relationship between pilots and ground crew, where everybody is on friendly terms and the crew take an active interest in 'their' pilots' success. The reality of course is more varied. For example, 'Johnnie' Johnson used to speak of his crew in glowing terms, and Max Williams tells of how well liked John Bell was. At the same time Max says Ken Holden was quite dismissive of his crew. Although I didn't ask as to the nature of the relationship with his ground crew, Bob didn't know their names. This isn't as surprising as it might seem. It is very easy for contact with the crew to be restricted to being assisted with the straps. Whereas ground crew were a fixed part of the squadron (especially up to 1942) the pilots were often quite transitory. 

Life as a Sgt pilot was somewhat more relaxed than for the officers. The only distinction out on dispersal was on first entering the hut when Bob would throw up a salute. Unlike the officers Bob wasn't expected to learn all the rules of etiquette from the book "Customs of the Service" issued at Cranwell. He puts this particular piece of good luck down to what happened when he got his pilot wings. Somewhat put out at the complete lack of ceremony on this momentous occasion, Bob didn't wear his wings for several days. He believes that the powers-that-be decided this was a lack of respect and showed he wasn't quite the thing for officer material, so the provisional commission given during training wasn't converted to the real thing.

The reality of course is that as a Sergeant, Bob later found himself occasionally leading a section with officers in it. This wasn't an unusual situation, although a newly arrived officer who was obviously not in touch with operational practise found it astonishing.

When the first Spitfire V arrived at the squadron, Bob was delighted to hear he was the one scheduled to fly it. Unfortunately it wasn't quite ready, and he was scheduled to fly on a sweep anyway. Next day he checked again, still not ready. So off he went on another sweep (9th July 1941), but this time never made it back. As far as Bob's aware, there's still a Spitfire V down at Westhampnett waiting for its test ride.

Bob's description of being shot down is a classic case of not seeing his attacker. His flight leader was making life rather difficult with erratic flying, zooming and diving. Concentrating on keeping his leader in sight, Bob never saw his assailant. His first warning was a "ring of gold" appearing before him, as various tracer rounds came from behind. The circumstances were very similar to the first time he was shot, only then his Merlin engine kept on turning (despite sounding like a cement mixer) and got him across the Channel. This time it was obvious he wouldn't make it. The engine had stopped and Bob tried restarting it with the pre-fitted cartridges, but they ran out. So he decided to go for a wheels up landing.

This was his safest option. Knowing he had been shot at from behind there was no telling what damage his parachute may have suffered. Seeing a large field with a farmhouse in it, Bob chose a spot well away from the house knowing that if he landed near it the temptation to accept help from the occupants would be too great. The subsequent repercussions were something he wanted to avoid. Before long a couple of German squaddies arrived.

Thus began the next phase of the war for Bob; life as a POW.

The first event was being taken to an HQ and left in a room with a telephone for an hour. Then he was put into a lorry and taken to St. Omer for a quiet interrogation, where he spent the night.

The next day Bob went by train to Dulag Luft reception camp near Frankfurt, where he found that McCairns had been processed just 3 or 4 days earlier (having been shot down on the 6th July). From there they went to the delightful village of Bad Salsa and housed in an old concert house for 3 to 4 days whilst they cleared room in the camp. Bob and his companion considered trying to make an overnight escape but decided it was too risky. Unknown to them 40 other men decided to make the attempt too, but they were all recaptured in pretty short order.

When they reached their destination officers and NCOs were kept in separate compounds. The officers were not expected to work, and for NCOs it was on a voluntary basis, for example distribution of Red Cross parcels. That isn't to say that otherwise people sat around doing nothing. A lot of effort went into keeping everybody busy. For example, Bob spent 2 years in the department of written music, producing sheet music for the 30 piece orchestra that worked in the theatre. The instruments were provided by the Red Cross, and when the camp ran a production of the Mikado the costumes were provided by theatres in Berlin.

The Red Cross parcels helped add a touch of luxury on occasion. Bob remembers spending his 21st birthday with a tin of condensed milk, taking sips of sweet nectar throughout the day.

Bob has an extensive collection of photos of these productions, all taken by a German officer at the camp (Stalag Luft 6).

As the end of the war approached the announcement was made "You'll be leaving tomorrow". With little time to prepare, Bob made up a kitbag contraption with braces so he could carry his belongings on his back. Formed up into 50 man columns, the Germans marched them off trying to avoid the advancing Russians.

On the 19th April 1945 they were near the village of Gresse when 6 Typhoons attacked the column. 30 POWs were killed outright. Bob says "The attack was certainly aggressive, I lived more fully during those few minutes than I ever have since." This was only 3 days before they met up with Allied troops.

During this time an Allied sergeant known as 'Dixie' Dean did much of the organisation of the column, pedalling back and forth on a bicycle and liasing between the prisoners and the Germans. Although German officers were not supposed to surrender to a lower rank, when the time came the C.O. approached 'Dixie' with the comment that he couldn't wish for somebody better to surrender to.

The moment of meeting the Allies seems to have been fairly low-key. The prisoners were billeted in a barn when it was noted that "There's something happening up the road". A U.S. corporal drove up, the guards surrendered to him, and the ex-prisoners were left to wander around for the next couple of days.

Eventually a lorry was found and they were driven to Lubeck reception centre. After a day and a half another lorry arrived and they were driven to an aerodrome where occasional Dakotas left, and from here were flown to Brussels reception centre. It wasn't until afterwards that Bob discovered the RAF pilot he had chatted with at the aerodrome was from 616!

The difference between Brussels and the previous reception areas was remarkable. At last they were being well looked after, and they were all assigned a female receptionist to take care of them. VE night in Brussels was quite a memorable occasion.

to be continued...