263 Squadron in Norway, 1940
Yesterday (11th Feb 2025) I visited the RAF Museum at Hendon. It was a rather cold and miserable day, perfect weather for being inside! If you are visiting London, then this is one of the best aviation museums in the country and well worth a visit. On display was a rather sorry looking remnant of the Second World War. A Gloster Gladiator from 263 Squadron RAF, recovered from the bottom of a Norwegian lake in 1970. I wrote about the squadron in Hearts of Steel, so I thought I’d reproduce that story here.
Herbert often chastised my grandfather (who was in the RAF during World War 2), asking him ‘where were the bloody R.A.F when we needed them most.’ True to say that during the retreat to Dunkirk the RAF were there but operating some way in-land to shoot down the bombers way before they reached the beleaguered troops, hence an impression was given they weren’t present. It’s also fair to say that if there were aircraft over the beaches then it was almost too late as the bombers had got through. In Norway there was no effective air cover but there was some attempt to get the RAF there. When they did arrive, there is no doubt about their commitment. The Fleet Air Arm were somewhat shackled with the aircraft available to them as they tried to rebuild after years of forced neglect and prejudice. HMS Furious was there from the beginning but she had no fighter aircraft aboard, only Swordfish torpedo bombers and when Ark Royal and Glorious joined later, they could only operate from 150 miles offshore, limiting the time over the theatre of operations and unable to provide continuous cover for the troops.
263 Squadron RAF was formed in 1939 and was based at Filton aerodrome near Bristol. In the winter of 1940, it was training up its crews in navigation and gunnery whenever the harsh weather permitted. They were operating Gloster Gladiators, an aircraft that when observed closely is most definitely an inter war design that was modern but old fashioned at the same time. A biplane with a large air-cooled radial engine, part fabric, part metal construction with fixed undercarriage it was the first RAF aircraft to enter service with an enclosed canopy. Despite being obsolete almost immediately it came into service, the Gladiator was loved by pilots for its handling and manoeuvreability although compared to the more modern monoplanes it was slow with a top speed of 257 mph. That meant the Spitfire and Me109 were over 100 mph faster, whilst the JU88 twin-engine bomber was also quicker by some 30mph. However, it was robust, highly manoeuverable and it had a short field capability suited to operation from the tiny strips in Norway.
With this in mind, 263 Sqn was informed in March 1940 that it should prepare a Field Force Squadron with a likely deployment to Finland at any moment. This meant additional personnel, extensive firearms training as well as packing and transportation practice. With the ‘go, no go’ dithering that the government went through over the next month this had an impact on the squadron who were one moment meant to be running an operational squadron and the next preparing for deployment, only to be stood down and then asked to do it all again!
Finally, they received the order to prepare to depart their aircraft on the 20 April, flying to Prestwick via RAF Sealand. The ground crews, spares and maintenance materials had already departed for Leith where they would board troopships for Aandalsnes. On arrival at Prestwick, Fleet Air Arm pilots ferried the Gladiators to HMS Furious. 14 managed to land but one had some form of issue on final approach and ditched 200 yards behind the carrier. Fortunately, the pilot escaped but the aircraft was lost. Four more Gladiators arrived the following day. To complement the 18 serviceable aircraft were the pilots led by Squadron Leader J. W. Donaldson, a 29-year-old from Sussex, and his Flight Commander, Flight Lieutenant R. S. Mills with 11 other Pilot Officers and five Sergeant pilots.
On a miserable mid-morning of the 24 April Donaldson was called to a meeting with the captain, who informed him that the ship would steer into wind in readiness for their departure within the next three hours. Grey clouds created dull, overcast conditions and on occasion there were snow showers. The deck may have been 700 feet long, but it looked awfully short, there was a big drop at the important end and if you ended up in the sea there was 27,000 tons of carrier bearing down on you. Donaldson requested that the Squadron split into two formations of eight aircraft with each formation escorted by an 803 Squadron Skua. This was agreed, quite likely because the two-man crew of the Skua could provide more accurate navigation to the frozen landing ground of Lake Lesjeskogen to the east of Aandalsnes where Operation Sickle had landed.
In the squadron’s operational record there is a note of particular interest that reads: ‘For the information of RAF pilots who may be called upon to take off from a carrier in future it is pointed out that, provided take-off is made with care, there may be no anxiety for the safety of the pilot.’ Comforting indeed.
The landing strip on Lake Lesjeskogen had been prepared for the aircraft by an advanced party from the squadron ground crew and with help from local people. They had formed a runway by heaping the snow to either side of the makeshift runway so that by 19:00 hours the aircraft were all safely on the ground after a 4-hour flight. However, Donaldson and his Flight Commander had noticed when positioning to land that there were bomb craters in groups spaced about a mile apart all along the road and railway line running alongside the lake. That was rather ominous.
Despite all the practice preparation over the previous months, the operation had begun to unravel back at Leith. The lorries and supplies had arrived late and much of the vital stores including important lubricants had not been loaded. There was no time to lose for now, and three of the Gladiators were set at readiness to take off should the enemy approach whilst the remainder were dispersed around the lake and protected as best as possible from attack. A sortie was flown by the section at readiness; however a reported enemy turned out to be aircraft from the Norwegian Air Force.
With all available aircraft, pilots and equipment accounted for a meeting was held to review their capabilities. Attending were senior officers and a captain of the Norwegian Air Force. Donaldson put forward that the squadron could not operate from the lake and would need to move, but he was told that there was nowhere else suitable in the area. It was now a case of practicalities, they needed to work out what they could do, not what they couldn’t.
The first decision had already been taken. They were no longer capable of being an offensive unit. What aircraft and stores they had would need to be protected, so the serviceable aircraft would provide protection for the squadron, the airfield itself and to make a nuisance of themselves to the enemy if the opportunity arose. The ground crews that had arrived were not those trained to rearm, refuel and keep the aircraft flying, so these duties would have to be carried out by the pilots with the available ground crews helping as best they could. There was one armourer present but there was no way he would be able to service 72 Brownings alone.
Despite the squadron aircraft landing intact, restarting them was now a problem. In order to turn over their 9-cylinder Mercury radial engines, the Gladiator required an external electrical generator to provide initial starting power. This was connected to a position underneath and behind the engine cowling, so a man was needed to remove this after the pilot had started the engine. For safety reasons the batteries were shipped without acid, and like a lot of the fuel and lubrication oils the acid had not turned up. So, with what acid they managed to beg, borrow or steal they only had enough to run two or three generators at most. This meant that with pilots rotating flying missions combined with ground crew duties it was likely they could only deploy two or three aircraft at one time.
Captain Unwin from the Norwegian Air Force then provided a summary of the latest intelligence. The enemy bombers were operating at will and against both civilian and military targets. Paratroops had been used and it was reported that those who refused to jump were shot by their officers and some had been forced to jump at low level into snow drifts without parachutes. In cases where Paratroopers were cornered, they feigned surrender only to throw grenades when their would-be captors approached. If these reports were true, then the intelligence was indeed grim.
The morning of the 25 April began like any other in Norway, very cold and very early. Overnight the temperature had dropped to -2C and with daylight approaching at about 04:30 the crews were out beforehand to prepare the aircraft. The cold had done its work though and the controls of the aircraft were frozen solid but worse still, the carburettors were frozen too. The oil was drained and warmed, the ice scraped, and the carburettors warmed by whatever means they could find. These normal routine tasks were made all the more difficult with hands and feet like blocks of ice and the threat that at any moment they could be attacked.
The crews managed to start two aircraft that launched at 04:45 intercepting a twin engine Heinkel 115 float plane which they shot down. However, a lone He111 crept up on the airfield and managed to drop a stick of bombs which made more noise than damage, but it was a foretaste of what was to come.
Pilot Officer Purdy, a 22-year-old Canadian from New Brunswick, put his foot into the fuselage recess that enabled him to swing into the cockpit of his Gladiator. Once settled into his seat, which he adjusted for comfort, he quickly scanned the instruments to check they were all reading as they should. Then there was a shout, not that the electrics were connected as he expected but ‘enemy aircraft approaching!’ Looking up he saw three aircraft in formation split to commence individual attacks on the airfield. Normally it would take a few minutes to go through his checks, but this all went out of the window now.
He primed the engine and simultaneously shouted ‘external power?’ ‘Connected’ came the reply, he switched both magnetos to ‘on’ and the same for the third, starting magneto. He set the throttle to about an 1/8th of an inch open, checked the main fuel tank was selected for startup, expecting in that moment for the engine to cough into life. Except it didn’t. A bomb exploded just in front of his Gladiator so loud and so close that for a moment he could not comprehend what had happened. Snow, ice, smoke, flame and the concussion all hit in an instant along with the noise that was so deafening he didn’t hear it. The explosion ignited the fabric wings of the aircraft, pieces of which began to drop into the cockpit, he had to get out. He unfastened his harness and hoisted himself out through the searing heat which burned through his gloves and seemed to melt his face. He hit the ground and ran for cover in the snow and trees at the side of the lake about 50 yards away.
There he met the other pilots, including the C/O who was dazed and clearly concussed. It was only 07:45 and the Germans had attacked the airfield in force. The men looked out from their hiding places, breathing heavily, trying to take in the situation and agreeing that they were lucky the bombs did not detonate until they had penetrated the ice which had somewhat softened their effect. Out on the ice, four aircraft crackled and burned, their exposed airframes like bones, black patches of burned material below them. The sound of aero engines returned and with it a chatter of guns. Flight Sergeant Ernest Russell was still on the ice having been rearming the aircraft with some of the ground crew, but now he ran crouching low as he did so towards his fellow pilots as machine gun bullets hammered into the ice around him.
The men gathered together and decided that only the pilots would attend to the aircraft from now on although this meant it would take up to an hour and a half to rearm and refuel the planes. Pilot Officer Purdy was badly burned but he refused to have his wounds attended to and carried out a flight on the next patrol at 09:00 when they managed to get six aircraft into the air. During the patrol Flt Lt. Mills had an He111 confirmed shot down, one of a formation of six aircraft that Mills took on alone.
At lunchtime Pilot Officer McNamara was patrolling by the airfield when Heinkel 111 L1+BM was spotted approaching. McNamara closed in for a deflection attack and scored a number of hits which resulted in the port engine catching fire and streaming white smoke. The ground crews cheered as it appeared the aircraft spun in, when in fact the crew had managed to jettison their bombs to make a forced landing. They were duly captured, the pilot, Unteroffizier Kurt Kern had a clipped ear and cheek.
Despite these small victories the squadron was feeling the effect of attrition and by this time they had lost ten of their eighteen aircraft through bombing. Out on the ice Donaldson and Mills were in their Gladiators with P/O Purdy who despite the pain from the burns on his hands was connecting the starter generators. Once more there was the sound of approaching aircraft as three He111s bore down on the airfield depositing a salvo of 12 bombs. The pilots rushed for cover, Mills and Purdy got behind a machine gun, Mills firing the weapon whilst Purdy fed in the bullets. They targeted the 111s which had begun a strafing run, tracer arched towards the attackers who broke off their attack. With this the three men jumped up and ran back to their aircraft. Donaldson and Mills clambered in whilst Purdy connected the generators as a lone 111 began another attack. They ignored its presence and shortly both aircraft got airborne whilst Purdy trudged back to cover, sat down and lit a cigarette, blowing out a satisfied plume of smoke as the sound of the Mercurys dwindled into the distance.
An hour and a half later Donaldson and Mills returned to the airfield from patrol, just as an He111 from KG4 was making an attack. Donaldson and Mills set upon 5J+JM flown by Oberleutnant Wolfgang Richter setting fire to the port engine which began to trail white smoke and lose height. Richter was badly injured, but he managed to crash land the aircraft. One of the crew were dead but Oberfeldwebel Ziegler and Feldwebel Augustin escaped and exited the wreck which began to burn. Locals gathered to find only the tail section remaining and the body of one of the crewmen left behind. The following day Norwegian forces found the men hiding in a farm. A firefight ensued resulting in both Ziegler and Augustin being killed, whilst Richter was taken to hospital where he turned a pistol on himself following the amputation of his arm.
Donaldson and Mills came across a second He111 and made another successful attack which resulted in the aircraft crash landing. By now they had been in the air for over two hours and would need to land soon. As they approached the lake Donaldson spotted two more 111’s approaching in a diverse attack, one from the east and one from the west. The pair managed to fight these off but by now Donaldson only had a few rounds of ammunition left in one of his Brownings and very little fuel. He signalled to Mills to land whilst he would provide cover from about 2,000 feet.
Donaldson watched Mills begin a short circuit to land, momentarily he breathed a sigh of relief and gave himself a moment to just be aware he was flying and listen to the sound of the Mercury. He checked over his oil and temperature gauges, the fuel status was very low, but he had his reserve tank and so all was well for the moment. Then he saw them. four JU88s inbound. His concentration snapped back into place, and he accelerated to attack despite his lack of ammunition. He fired a burst that ended as quickly as it began and then his engine died from fuel starvation. He quickly reached out and flipped over to the reserve tank, thankfully the engine picked up once more. However, his intended victims had now turned on him and he had to fly like the devil possessed to be rid of them. He managed to dive away to shake off three of them, but the fourth was good and stuck with him, the both of them now at very low level with trees flashing past just below. In a last-ditch attempt to escape, Donaldson, breathing hard through the exertion and stress of combat stamped hard on the rudder, pulled up and over in a barrel roll finding himself somehow behind the JU88 within a narrow ravine. The pilot of the JU88, unaware that the menace now behind him in a perfect attacking position was without ammunition, broke off the attack and headed for home. Donaldson climbed to gain height and some safety margin should his engine quit once more.
Meanwhile Mills was going through his landing checks. Brakes off, main tanks selected, speed below 78 knots, flaps set for landing, harness tight, a little more power to counter the drag of the flaps and maintain 65 knots approach. He shuffled in his seat and loosened the muscles for landing, and then noticed that the ground crew were nowhere to be seen. That could only mean there were enemy aircraft about, full power applied for a go around, speed building, flaps away and re-trim for climb out. As he was doing this, he spotted them, and Donaldson attacking.
He in turn was now set upon and began evasive manoeuvres, but one particular JU88 had latched onto him and despite his best efforts to turn away it attacked time and again. As Mills made turns to evade, the enemy pilot pulled up into a steep climb gaining height and momentum and then rolling over to dive down again on to Mills. Eventually Mills decided enough was enough and turned onto his tormentor in an effort to ram him. The enemy pilot wisely chose to retire. Mills watched the JU88s go out of sight before climbing for safety as the aircraft was now flying on fumes which shortly resulted in the engine quitting. Mills set the Gladiator into a glide approach and made a forced landing at one end of the lake. He clambered out; all was quiet apart from the ticking of the cooling engine. There were a lot of holes in his aeroplane, the engine had been hit too. Then there were a lot more holes as a 111 came hurtling upon the stricken plane. Mills ran for cover as his Gladiator caught fire and burned to a withered crisp.
Donaldson, meanwhile, had gained enough height to give him some time, but he had strayed too far from the lake to get back with what fuel he thought he had left in the reserve tank. He needed to get the aircraft down in one piece. Below was Aandalsnes and he spotted a small strip on a plateau which would suffice, it should also be in friendly hands. He made his approach and successfully touched down on the 400-yard sloping strip. As he stepped wearily from the aircraft he was met by friendly forces.
A dispatch rider arrived at the lake sometime later with Donaldson’s orders to prepare any serviceable aircraft left and ferry them immediately to the landing strip at Aandalsnes. All useable stores and fuel were to be gathered up in readiness to move there also. In time Donaldson arrived with a truck and supervised the packing and relocation of the squadron. four aircraft managed to take off, eleven aircraft were burned out from bombing whilst two were damaged beyond repair. The ground crews set fire to these before departing as the black smoke from the two burning aircraft towered into the darkening sky. It was almost midnight.
The remaining four aircraft were prepared for a reconnaissance and strafing mission the next morning. On returning to base the engine of Pilot Officer Craig Adams’ aircraft ceased at a most inappropriate moment. He managed to land at nearby Sundalen which remained under the control of the Norwegians. The aircraft was a write off, but Adams managed to find transport back to base.
Three aircraft landed safely, refuelled and rearmed. At 10:00 the Heinkels and JU88s began to bomb the troop positions and docks at Aandalsnes in force which continued all day long. They flew at 25,000 feet which meant that they were operating with impunity as there was no oxygen available for the Gladiators. They were stuck at 10,000 feet at most, powerless to intervene. The bombs fell, the docks took a beating, an ammunition dump exploded.
By the afternoon there was just one Gladiator serviceable. Pilot Officer Jacobsen made the final flight, claiming a probable 111. On shutting down, Donaldson came over and helped him from his aircraft. That was it, there was no fuel left. The aircraft were inspected, just in case some fuel could be found, but all were in a poor condition, none were safe to fly. The attempt to provide air cover for Operations Maurice and Sickle was over.
In the brief time 263 Squadron were operational, they carried out 49 sorties over Norway, 37 attacks on enemy aircraft and scored six confirmed kills, eight probable’s. Squadron Leader Donaldson received a D.S.O, Pilot Officers Mills, McNamara and Purdy a D.F.C. and Sgt Pilot Russell a M.M.
Back in England the Government and the Admiralty were locked in a struggle to decide whether to initiate Operation Hammer (the taking of Trondheim). Trondheim was the prize but clearly out of reach now that 263 Squadron’s brief and frantic foothold had evaporated. A landing of troops under intense and unrelenting bombardment from the air would end in certain disaster not to mention the risk to the ships of the Royal Navy. The consequences of losing an asset such as Warspite did not bear contemplation. The decision was made, ‘Hammer’ would not go ahead.
Instead, the 4,000 troops earmarked for the assault would sail to Aandalsnes where they would add strength to the forces already deployed there. The freighter Cedarbank departed Aberdeen with the troopships originally destined for Trondheim with the ‘J’ Class destroyers Javelin and Jackal providing close escort. As the coast of Norway came into sight there was a colossal explosion, Cedarbank had received a hit from a torpedo and rapidly began to sink. In his memoir, ‘Destroyer Man’, Rear Admiral A. F. Pugsley who was Commanding Officer of Javelin at the time recalls that the sinking of Cedarbank forced him into a situation and a decision that no escort wishes to encounter, that is to ensure the protection of the remaining ships and to leave the men of the sinking ship to their own fate. ‘So easy to decide thus in theory. But within sight of men whom one was there to protect, drowning in an icy sea, it tore the heart to ignore them as we swept by on our search for the attacker. This was the only occasion when I had to make such an appalling decision and the anguish of it will live with me always.’
As a consequence of the cancellation of ‘Hammer’ the Germans were able to land troop reinforcements into Trondheim Fjord supported by destroyers. These troops were not just any troops either, they were specialist Mountain Troops equipped with skis, and this force had not left their bindings behind. Up in the surrounding mountains the British forces stood out like hares on snowy downland. The destroyers began to range their guns on them as the Mountain Troops assaulted the British positions and began to drive them back towards Namsos.
263 Squadron returned to Scotland, reformed shortly afterwards and shipped back to Norway for the operations in May and June to take Narvik aboard H.M.S Furious. Mills was later wounded and hospitalised, returned to England to take over 87 Squadron. He survived the war and retired from the Air Force in 1956 a Squadron Leader. Craig Adams was killed in Norway when he purposefully rammed a JU88. The remaining crews from this first expedition returned to HMS Glorious with Hurricanes from 46 Squadron. Glorious made for home but did so with escort protection from the Destroyers Acaster and Ardent. They were detected by the battlecruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, which subsequently sank all three ships with the loss of 1,500 men including the pilots of 263 Squadron.
Taken from ‘Hearts of Steel’, Jim Carter, New Generation Publishing (2022)