Warwick O’Neill, Military Historian

After thirty odd years of reading books and watching docos on Australian history, it’d be fair to say I know a lot about a little and a little about a lot. And it’s the knowing a little about a lot that is the fascination for me in producing this podcast. You don’t know what you don’t know, as they say. For example, I knew of the Battle of France in 1940, but what never occurred to me was that there would be Australians involved. I mean at that point we were still in the process of building the second AIF and didn’t have troops anywhere near Europe.

Or did we?

Well, no we didn’t.

At least not men in khaki.

But, let me regale you all with the tale, specifically, of Leslie Redford Clisby, henceforth referred to as Les, and more generally the involvement of Australian members of the Royal Air Force who took part in the Battle of France.

I think the best place to start will be with a bit of background. With the armistice ending World War 1 only 20 years old, most world leaders felt that avoiding a repeat of those horrors was the highest priority. It was inconceivable that anyone would want to light that fire again, but the Treaty of Versailles all but guaranteed that one nation would not share this sentiment. And that nation obviously was Germany.

Saddled with the debt of World War 1 the German economy collapsed and with it German society descended into chaos. If you were a German parent, holding onto your starving child while wild mobs rampaged outside, you’d be asking whose fault it all was. How did the once proud, civilised nation of Germany descend into this. You’d want answers.

And those answers were provided by Adolf Hitler. Obviously, it couldn’t have been the fault of the ‘pure’ Teutonic race of Germany. Of course not, it was the Jews and the Bolsheviks. It was they who stabbed Germany in the back. Every privation you’re experiencing now is because of them. That needed to be rectified and Adolf had the answer.

Once he secured his hold, he set about restoring German pride. He manoeuvred politically to regain areas of Germany which had been ceded as part of the Treaty of Versailles. He demanded the return of the Rhineland and then the Sudetenland. Wary of triggering another war, world leaders acceded to his demands. This then encouraged him to invade Czechoslovakia, again no retaliation apart from a few tut-tuts and waved fingers.

The British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain met with Hitler to discuss the situation and walked away with a signed piece of paper which he waved to the waiting media back in London, proclaiming he had secured peace in our time.  

Two days later, no doubt laughing at the naivety of the PM, Hitler sent his troops into Poland in September 1940. Chamberlain was humiliated and the rest of the world finally accepted that Hitler could only be contained through war.

What followed was a period known as the Phoney War. Hitler didn’t actually believe the Allies would declare war and so he wasn’t really prepared. But the Allies weren’t expecting a war either and so they weren’t prepared. For eight months both sides shook themselves out, assessed their options and prepared to pick up where things left off in 1918.

It turns out the Germans got their act together quicker than the Allies and launched their invasion of France in May 1940. The Phoney War was over. The Battle of France had begun.

Down in the wide brown land of Oz during the interwar years, as always seems to happen to varying degrees, the Government had slashed defence spending. Australia had no such thing as a standing army at that stage, just a number of militia battalions whose professionalism and efficiency left much to be desired. Some old hands from the First AIF did their best, but without government dollars, training and the like was barely adequate.

The fledgling Royal Australian Airforce, RAAF, experienced a similar problem. The RAAF received its royal decree from King George V and became its own entity on 31 August 1921. With only 21 officers and 128 other ranks many of the 170 aircraft remained on the ground through lack of people to fly them. There were big plans to expand the RAAF to 1500 people and six squadrons. The planned squadrons consisted of 2 each of fighter aircraft, two reconnaissance and two seaplanes. 

Grand plans indeed, which lasted a little over 12 months until the aforementioned slashing of defence spending kicked in. At best, over the following years the RAAF consisted of 50 officers and 300 ORs.

In 1925, a small cash injection actually allowed for Nos 1 and 3 Squadrons to be formed. Both were a bit of a mix of fighters and bombers, which when you think about it doesn’t seem like a very good idea. Fighter aircraft have an entirely different function to bombing aircraft and so each squadron effectively served two masters, each of which no doubt felt their needs were the greatest.

Common sense finally prevailed late in the 1920’s with No 1 Squadron becoming a dedicated bomber unit and No.3 a fighter and reconnaissance wing. The RAAF had even managed to create a flying training school at Point Cook to which they gave the highly inventive name of No. 1 Flying Training School.

During the interwar years, the RAAF mostly concerned themselves with pilot training, survey and meteorological flights and assisting with bushfire patrols. Not particularly stirring stuff for young lads dreaming of the romance and adventure of the First World War flying aces. There was an alternative though – The Old Dart, Blighty or England, if you will.

To be fair to the Government of the day, they were dealing with the Great Depression and really, could they justify the expense of maintaining and training a fully functional air force? In 1918, people were still flying around in rickety old wood and canvas bi-planes. The 20’s and 30’s did see great advancement in aircraft design, improving range and reliability. But, Australia was still a long way from being vulnerable to any threat from a major air force simply due to the fact that nothing could fly this far.

England on the other hand did not have the luxury of distance. World War 1 proved they were within range of enemy air attack launched from the continent. Zeppelins conducted 51 raids over England between 1914 and 1918 killing 557 people and injuring 1358. English officials knew that if a European war was to breakout again, with all the improvements in aircraft technology, they would be even more vulnerable. And during the 30’s, that Adolf Hitler fella in Germany was causing some concern. They had to, and did, take the threat seriously in the RAF.

So it’s hardly surprising that many members of the RAAF decided to pop over and take a Commission with the RAF and flew with their squadrons. Les Clisby was one of these blokes. He joined the RAAF as a mechanic in 1935 but was accepted for pilot training. By 1937 he’d left the tools behind and became a full time pilot in the RAAF. It sounds all too easy, not quite.

In April 1936, one year into his training, Les became eligible to join the “Caterpillar Club”. This club was formed by the American parachute maker, Irvin. To join, all you had to do was save your life by bailing out of an aircraft with a parachute strapped to your back. Les was flying in formation when he encountered problems with his aircraft and bailed out. The subsequent inquiry found that the plane’s loss was due to his lack of experience, but it appears he suffered no sanction.

After his graduation he volunteered for transfer to the Royal Air Force where he duly took up his position in August of 1937 for a five year commission. Now those of you with any kind of mathematical acuity will work out that five years from 1937 would take him to 1943. That was how, when war broke out in 1939, Les and many other Australian pilots were flying with English squadrons and were soon to be involved in operations over Europe, the first Australians to be involved in combat operations in World War 2. During his time with the RAAF, Les maintained his Australian identity by insisting on wearing his RAAF uniform.

Although we’ll be following Les’ career during the opening phases, his story provides an example of the operations which the RAF and their Australian pilots embarked upon. Unfortunately, we can only follow Les’ combat career from the start of the war until the first couple of weeks of the Battle of France. It was a magnificent period but very brief.

When he arrived in England, Les was posted to No. 1 Squadron flying the new Hawker Hurricane fighter. The Hurricane flew at a top speed of 300 miles an hour, just under 500ks, and sported four machine guns in each wing. The Hurricane was the solid, dependable fighter of the RAF. Although eventually overshadowed by the Spitfire, at the outbreak of war the Hurricane was England’s aircraft of choice to be deployed to France. It was easy to maintain and repair in the field, with good take off and landing characteristics. Of course, none of that would’ve mattered if it couldn’t perform in the air. Against the Luftwaffe’s Messerschmitts the old crates could hold their own, one of the few fighters that could make that boast.

No. 1 Squadron deployed to Le Havre on 6 September 1939, only five days after the war started. There were some minor clashes between the RAF and Luftwaffe, but with autumn and winter well on the way, the campaigning season was a bit short and not a lot happened until the conditions improved.

Imagine how surreal that must have been. Back in ’37, five years swanning around in England, visiting pubs and giving their comrades a damn good thrashing at cricket, must’ve seem quite a lark. And all paid for by the Government. Thank you very much Mr Lyons. Then, all of a sudden you’re told there’s a war against Germany and guess what, you’re in it at the pointy end.

Not that I imagine Les and the rest of them would’ve been anything other than thrilled at the prospect, as young men tend to be at such times. Writing to his brother back in Australia, Flying Officer Pat Hughes wrote “There’s no use muttering about things… to my mind the chances of living through this are about equal anyhow, and that’s all one can ask after all.”

Les scored his first confirmed victory on 1 April 1940 when he shot down a Messerschmitt Bf 110, twin-engined fighter. The following day he shot down a Bf 109. Technically this is before the opening of the battle of France, which kicked off officially on 10 May, but Les was already beginning to show the skills required for a fighter ace.

When the Germans finally put the foot down and launched the Battle of France on 10 May 1940, the opportunity to increase his number of victories presented itself. The German Blitzkreig tactics involved heavy air support provided to the armoured and infantry units on the ground. No. 1 Squadron attempted to disrupt this support.

It has been estimated that over the following five days Les scored between eight and thirteen victories. Accurate numbers were difficult to confirm as, due to the nature of the combat, it wasn’t always possible to conclusively determine if an enemy aircraft was actually shot down or only damaged. Let’s face it, if the sky is full of bad guys, you’re not going to hang around and watch the one you’ve just shot at just to make sure it crashes are you. You’re going to think ‘righto, he’s out of it, where’s the next one?’

But it seems to be agreed that on the opening day of the Battle of France Clisby shot down two Dornier Do 17 bombers before being hit himself by a bit of friendly fire from a French anti-aircraft battery, forcing him to return home with a bit of damage. Exactly why the Frogs would’ve been throwing around anti-aircraft shells in the vicinity of British fighter aircraft is probably best left alone.

Anyway, undaunted by his brush with the French armament industry, he was up in the air the next day. This time he managed quite a rare feat for a pilot – he took some prisoners. As you can imagine taking prisoners would be bit difficult under normal aerial warfare circumstances. I mean you can hardly just get out of your cockpit, stand on a wing at 20 000 feet and negotiate the formal surrender of your enemy.

Basically, during a sortie on 11 May, he short down three German fighters. This, incidentally, qualified him to be called an Ace. But after successfully dispatching the three, he took some fire himself and his rudder was damaged. He broke off and headed back to the base but on the way, he came across a Heinkel He 111 bomber. He fired off a few shots and the Heinkel was forced to land. Les decided that landing a damaged plane at the earliest possible opportunity sounded like a smart move and so he put his own craft down in the same paddock as the Heinkel.

The crew of the bomber tried to escape but Les was having none of that. Putting one of them to ground in a tackle that would make Marty Bella proud, he then convinced the others to surrender by waving his pistol in their general direction. It was a persuasive argument and they allowed themselves to be led across the field to be handed over to the French authorities. But not before Les got the autographs of his prisoners. He then re-joined his squadron.

This exploit earned him a mention in Time Magazine a few weeks later. I’ve gotta say, I’m really starting to like this bloke.

As I mentioned above, Les insisted on wearing his RAAF uniform. The official decree relating to RAAF members was that they could continue to wear their Australian uniforms until such time as they wore out and needed replacing. They would then be required to replace them with the RAF uniform. By this point he’d worn that old uniform for upwards of three years and it was starting to look a bit ordinary. He was regularly told that it was time to hand it in, but he always refused, stating “It’ll see me through.”

And unfortunately, the uniform did see him through because it didn’t have long to go.

On 12 May, Les was credited with destroying three Bf 109s and 3 Henschel Hs 126 reconnaissance aircraft in support of a raid on the Albert Canal bridges near Maastricht. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) for that action. The London Gazette announced the award on 14 June stating,

Flying Officer Leslie Redford CLISBY (40043) (now reported missing). One day in April, 1940, this officer was the pilot of one of three Hurricanes which attacked nine Messerschmitt 109’s, one of which he shot down. The following day he destroyed another Messerschmitt 109. In May, 1940, this officer was engaged in six combats against the enemy in which he shot down eight enemy aircraft. Flying Officer Clisby has displayed great courage on all occasions.

The eagle-eyed would have picked up that bit ‘now reported missing’.

That’s because on 15 May 1940, still wearing his tattered old RAAF uniform, Les climbed into his Hurricane for the last time. Along with the rest of his flight, Les fought against more than thirty Bf 110s over Reims. Les managed to bring down two of the enemy fighters. But with his aggressive approach to aerial combat, his luck couldn’t hold out forever. He was last seen with smoke and flames trailing from his cockpit as his plane was going down. In the same action one of his comrades, Flying Officer Lorimer, was also seen losing height.

French authorities later found two burnt-out Hurricanes in the vicinity of Rethel, and they were identified as the ones flown by Clisby and Lorimer. Les died without knowing that he had been awarded the DFC.

One of the pilots who flew with Les in No 1. Squadron said of him, “He was an Australian and had thrown himself into the fray with a reckless abandon that was magnificent in its way”. I’m not sure which part of that sentence is the highest praise – that he was an Australian or that he threw himself into the fray with reckless abandon.

Now obviously the Battle of France and Australia’s involvement therein didn’t end with Les’ death. But try as I might, none of my usual sources has been particularly helpful in identifying other Australians who took part in the Battle of France. Plenty on the Battle of Britain, such as Pat Hughes who I quoted earlier, but not France. But it can be safely assumed that there were a number of Australian pilots fighting in the fruitless attempt to prevent the Germans from occupying all of France.

Most of you no doubt know how the whole thing ended. The British Expeditionary Force pushed back to the beaches at Dunkirk to be miraculously rescued from the sea. Unlike the poor buggers on the ground, the RAF units were at least able to fly back to England where they would prepare for the most epic aerial battle in history, The Battle of Britain. I reckon I’ll the Aussie involvement in that battle at some stage in the future.

But until then, I take my hat off to Les Clisby and the other Australians who found themselves caught up in the opening stages of a war they never would have believed they would be called on to fight. For most of them, when they went to England, they had no notion that they would one day be fighting and dying over the fields of France. Nonetheless, just like their British comrades, when the call went up, they didn’t hesitate. They led the Australian involvement in World War Two and upheld the reputation of Australian military men that was forged in World War 1. They probably deserve much more recognition for their contribution than they’ve received.

Other military items by the author, Warwick O’Neill, can be found at: https://www.australianmilitaryhistorypodcast.com/
You can read more about the author, Warwick O’Neill, here.