course of the war as to justify the losses I expect.
The Air Staff could not rationally dispute Portal’s judgement. But even after the Wilhelmshaven raids, it was unthinkable to admit that the RAF possessed no bomber capable of operating in daylight with acceptable losses. For the remainder of the Battle of France, Portal ceased to have any effective voice as C-in-C of Bomber Command. He became merely a fireman, struggling to meet the minute-by-minute demands of the British Government and the Air Ministry. It had long ago been decided that the RAF should seek to support the army by attacking German communications rather than forward positions. Whether or not this policy made any sense from the outset, within days of 9 May most of Barratt’s Battles, which were intended to execute it, had been wiped out by the brilliantly deployed Luftwaffe screen of flak and fighters covering every potential target. The Air Ministry sought as far as possible to reserve the night bombers for operations against German installations and communications far behind the lines. In reality, it was unimportant what targets were chosen, since it rapidly became clear that Bomber Command was incapable of hitting any pinpoint accurately in the hours of darkness, and was unable to break through the defences in daylight.
Only 2 Group’s Blenheims, however tragically inadequate, could be risked on daylight ground-support operations in the face of the Luftwaffe. No ground-to-air communications existed to make their strikes effective. Efforts to provide them with fighter support were only spasmodically successful. But they were all that the RAF had. 82 Squadron were much bewildered at morning parade on 21 May. Beside their ordered ranks, a handful of scarecrows fellin, dressed in fragments of uniforms, bandages, tin helmets. These were the survivors of 18 Squadron, newly evacuated from France. Their commanding officer requested that his three remaining aircraft should be attached to 82 for operations that day. They flew with fighter escort to attack a reported Panzer division laagered in a French wood. Instead they found a British Red Cross column. Somehow they came home intact, but for one 18 Squadron Blenheim, whose unusual camouflage markings were mistaken by a nervous Hurricane pilot for those of a Ju88. It was shot down without survivors. On the 22nd, Atkinson led them against German armour at Samar near Boulogne, losing one aircraft. There was then another momentary lull after a determined intervention by Portal, who pointed out that operations in France were ‘draining away the Blenheim crews at the rate of between one and two squadrons per week . . . It is the height of unwisdom to throw the Blenheims away in an attempt to do the work of artillery . . .’
But the supreme crisis of Dunkirk swept away all reservations. 2 Group were once again flung into the battle. The great pall of black smoke hanging a thousand feet high over the beaches made it almost impossible to pinpoint German batteries accurately before attack, but gave the Blenheims vital cover when they dived away from the pursuing Messerschmitts. Again and again, they flew home clinging to the waves, holed from nose to tail, desperately seeking to sidestep the German fighters. Basil Embry, who would escape to become a legendary 2 Group commander later in the war, was among scores of Blenheim pilots shot down at this period. 6 June was a bleak day for 82 Squadron, when they came home with an aircraft missing and most of the others holed, a gunner draped dead in his turret. The crane that drew up alongside the wreck at Watton to winch the corpse out of his position was one of their grimmest memories of that summer. Honry and Mackenzie were killed on 8 June. On 13 June they went to strafe a tank laager at Le Gault. They had just opened bomb doors when the Me109s fell on them. Within minutes they lost Breese, Williams and Merritt. They were all carrying the standard bombloadof two
The Air Staff could not rationally dispute Portal’s judgement. But even after the Wilhelmshaven raids, it was unthinkable to admit that the RAF possessed no bomber capable of operating in daylight with acceptable losses. For the remainder of the Battle of France, Portal ceased to have any effective voice as C-in-C of Bomber Command. He became merely a fireman, struggling to meet the minute-by-minute demands of the British Government and the Air Ministry. It had long ago been decided that the RAF should seek to support the army by attacking German communications rather than forward positions. Whether or not this policy made any sense from the outset, within days of 9 May most of Barratt’s Battles, which were intended to execute it, had been wiped out by the brilliantly deployed Luftwaffe screen of flak and fighters covering every potential target. The Air Ministry sought as far as possible to reserve the night bombers for operations against German installations and communications far behind the lines. In reality, it was unimportant what targets were chosen, since it rapidly became clear that Bomber Command was incapable of hitting any pinpoint accurately in the hours of darkness, and was unable to break through the defences in daylight.
Only 2 Group’s Blenheims, however tragically inadequate, could be risked on daylight ground-support operations in the face of the Luftwaffe. No ground-to-air communications existed to make their strikes effective. Efforts to provide them with fighter support were only spasmodically successful. But they were all that the RAF had. 82 Squadron were much bewildered at morning parade on 21 May. Beside their ordered ranks, a handful of scarecrows fellin, dressed in fragments of uniforms, bandages, tin helmets. These were the survivors of 18 Squadron, newly evacuated from France. Their commanding officer requested that his three remaining aircraft should be attached to 82 for operations that day. They flew with fighter escort to attack a reported Panzer division laagered in a French wood. Instead they found a British Red Cross column. Somehow they came home intact, but for one 18 Squadron Blenheim, whose unusual camouflage markings were mistaken by a nervous Hurricane pilot for those of a Ju88. It was shot down without survivors. On the 22nd, Atkinson led them against German armour at Samar near Boulogne, losing one aircraft. There was then another momentary lull after a determined intervention by Portal, who pointed out that operations in France were ‘draining away the Blenheim crews at the rate of between one and two squadrons per week . . . It is the height of unwisdom to throw the Blenheims away in an attempt to do the work of artillery . . .’
But the supreme crisis of Dunkirk swept away all reservations. 2 Group were once again flung into the battle. The great pall of black smoke hanging a thousand feet high over the beaches made it almost impossible to pinpoint German batteries accurately before attack, but gave the Blenheims vital cover when they dived away from the pursuing Messerschmitts. Again and again, they flew home clinging to the waves, holed from nose to tail, desperately seeking to sidestep the German fighters. Basil Embry, who would escape to become a legendary 2 Group commander later in the war, was among scores of Blenheim pilots shot down at this period. 6 June was a bleak day for 82 Squadron, when they came home with an aircraft missing and most of the others holed, a gunner draped dead in his turret. The crane that drew up alongside the wreck at Watton to winch the corpse out of his position was one of their grimmest memories of that summer. Honry and Mackenzie were killed on 8 June. On 13 June they went to strafe a tank laager at Le Gault. They had just opened bomb doors when the Me109s fell on them. Within minutes they lost Breese, Williams and Merritt. They were all carrying the standard bombloadof two
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