Framing the Legend: Clive Caldwell’s Photographic Archive – a visual memoir.

 Framing the Legend: Clive Caldwell’s Photographic Archive – a visual memoir

Paper presented at the Aviation Cultures’ online Print the Legend ‘searchlight’ event, 27 February 2026

An ace in both the Middle East and Pacific theatres, and officially attributed with 27½ victories, Clive Caldwell was Australia’s highest scoring fighter pilot of the Second World War. Considered by many as an individualist, he did not wear the restrictions of officialdom well.

Towards the end of the war he faced public inquiry over the so-called Morotai Mutiny; a court-martial for liquor trading; and reduction in rank from acting Group Captain to Flight Lieutenant. ‘A strong almost consuming bitterness’ was the abiding legacy of those events. And others. Despite public acclaim, Caldwell never shook the belief that the Royal Australian Air Force disregarded his service and contribution. 

Alongside Caldwell’s sense of misrecognition was unabated trauma, emanating from a Hurricane crash at the very beginning of his Western Desert career. Enemy fire ripped a hole through the starboard wing. He attempted to land but the undercarriage would not descend. He tried to free himself, but the locked canopy would not budge. He crashed. Upside down, covered in fuel, his nostrils filling with the ‘strong smell of 100 octane’, he feared the machine would explode and he would be burned alive. ‘I’m really terrified. Not frightened. Terrified’, he later recalled. Multiple near-death experiences in battle over the following months exacerbated and magnified the memory of that dreadful moment. It ‘lives with me and I don’t suppose I will ever get rid of it’, he told one interviewer in the 1980s. Nightmares blighted his sleep. ‘Trapped in a burning aircraft – always with the canopy jammed’, a psychiatrist recorded. 

Such vivid confrontations with his own mortality were compounded by grief for friends, comrades, and those he led into battle. Caldwell was often a witness to those shot down in flames, over water or land; some ploughing into rugged terrain close to camp. The memories seared – olfactory as acute as visual. ‘The smell of roast pork when the[y] dragged old T[om] from the flames of his burning aircraft.’ Imagination as distressing as reality. ‘The remains of Don Munro … in the burnt-out wreck of his Tomahawk fighter …’ Caldwell would not have seen Munro’s remains; they were found eight months after his death. This, then, is a late-life emotional response rather than a recollection. But the handwritten words sit starkly on the page.

I visited Jean Caldwell in 2003. She shared her husband’s vast archive, including his photo albums. I mined them for dates, aircraft types, unit movements, and faces to match names; they functioned purely as a visual appendix to a biographical narrative built from operational records, logbooks, letters, press cuttings, his written fragments, as well as interviews I conducted with his contemporaries and widow. But the true meaning of an image depends on context and its relationship to other evidence. Two decades after writing his biography, I read Caldwell’s medical files. They highlight the trauma he suffered during his flying career and the bitter legacy of the court-martial. In light of those records and this new context – to gain a sense of reverberating trauma and misrecognition – I am now re-examining Caldwell’s life and career through the prisms of war trauma and moral injury. Central to this re-evaluation are three photo albums. 

The first, which I call the ‘early days’ album, spans Caldwell’s young adulthood, courtship of Jean, honeymoon, and home. It touches on his training and extends into his early desert career with 250 and 112 squadrons RAF. Caldwell took some of the wartime photos, possibly with the Leica scavenged from a German corpse in late December 1941.

A good handful were from squadron friends. Many were official or media photographs. Jean sent others, depicting scenes of her wartime life apart from her husband.

The second volume, which I’ve dubbed the ‘large album’, includes a few images from 250 Squadron and Caldwell’s publicity tour to the United States, as well as portraits from Darwin.

The majority, however, are official or press photographs from 112 Squadron, his first command – and a formation that always held ‘a special significance’ for him.

The third, the smaller album, covers mainly his time in Darwin with 1 Fighter Wing. It includes intimate images of friends and comrades, but there are also official photos, where Caldwell adopts his public persona of leader and war hero.

We cannot overlook the albums’ temporal and emotional layering. They contain pre- and wartime photos, actively obtained and kept by Caldwell. Then, sometime after the war, as bitterness festered and trauma assaulted, he collated, arranged, mounted, and captioned them. Those spare captions tell one story but twenty-odd years of biographical practice and recent work exploring trauma have now enabled me to recognise the multiple meanings embodied in the pages; in images singly and collectively.

With so many pictures depicting home and love, Caldwell’s albums are nostalgic touchstones. But the recurring wreckage and the body-marks of battle are memento mori – Latin for ‘remember you must die’ – statements recognising mortality. Images of action – Caldwell in flight, test-flying the Kittybomber, receiving the squadron crest, posing in front of and in his Spitfire – defy the possibility of death and assert his contribution to the Allied cause.

*****

I will now briefly discuss the albums as memento mori; assertions of significance; and artefacts of affect.

The ‘early days’ and ‘large’ albums each contain multiple images of crashes and damaged aircraft. ‘One of the fighters that came to grief in Palestine’, ‘Another belly flop’. Shelled carcasses, smashed Perspex, bullet holes, and the ‘biggest remaining pieces of a twin-engine bomber after a smash’.

Some are of his aircraft, and himself with hidden bandages. Image and caption reinforce just how close to death he had been. ‘Glass canopy was in this position when hit. Note hole in glass where four bullets just missed head.’

One sequence depicts a 112 Squadron Kittyhawk ‘shot down at Gambut’. Caldwell walked the crash site at the foot of the escarpment, only a short distance away from their quarters. He observed the charred, twisted hulk sitting heavily in a crater gouged by impact, debris scattered across the desert terrain. Smoke lingered, evidence of the intense fire that had engulfed the machine and the pilot who had flown it. So too, did the acrid smell of burnt materials and the disturbing stench of human remains.

Fire is the recurrent theme of Caldwell’s emotional imaginary. This wreck would have evoked the horror of incineration, fuelling future nightmares, even as it further imprinted in traumatic and sensory memories the nauseating odour of aircraft death. But rather than try to forget, Caldwell either took photos himself or acquired those taken by someone else. He later mounted and captioned them, one per page: ‘Smoke is from remains of pilot mainly’; ‘Bits of Pilot Still Smoking’.

The words are confronting. Yet the re-exposure in these four images – when one or two at the most would have sufficed – combined with all the other photographs of wrecks and bullet damage, became a way – then – to order and control fear and – later – the memory of fear, even as it allowed Caldwell to accept mortality and the inevitability of death.

The wreck pages acknowledge precarity. The official and media photographs assert presence and significance. Here is one of my favourite sequences: Caldwell testing the Kittybomber. 

They reveal his humour while underscoring his important contribution to the war effort as a test pilot willingly accepting the risk of determining whether a dropped bomb would clear the airscrew or strike it – with catastrophic consequences.  Yet they also mask his fear. His logbook annotation betrays his anxiety that things would not go to plan. ‘(D.V.)’: Deo Volente. God willing. 

While there is an aspect of trauma containment in this sequence, the majority of official images – such as those from the 112 Squadron crest presentation – were curations acclaiming achievement … and countering perceived misrecognition.

This next photo is a love token loosely inserted into the small album, one of a sequence of publicity shots taken in Darwin. Jean Caldwell had embroidered a garland of colourful hearts and flowers underneath the pocket flaps of his flying suit – a constant visual and tactile reminder of love and home.

Caldwell lifted one of the flaps to display Jean’s needlework. It was a secret message for his wife alone, yet we see something more – the inextricable intertwining of Caldwell’s intimate and martial worlds: Jean’s husband was both a romantic man of emotion and a deadly military aviator, known to all at that stage as ‘Killer’. Yet, despite the affective message, this was also a working garment with a utilitarian purpose which could be worn by Caldwell or anyone else of a similar height – such as his friend, Ray Thorold-Smith.

‘I am wearing an old black flying suit’, Thorold-Smith told his fiancée, ‘torn but carefully mended – with a red heart and a posy of flowers worked in silk on one pocket – and a lesser but similar splendour on the other. One shoulder says S/Ldr, the other says F/Lt. A veteran of a few scraps’.

*****

Despite considering it, Caldwell did not write an autobiography. Instead, he curated a visual memoir. Though private artefacts, the albums reinforce Caldwell’s place within aviation history – in his own mind. Each is rich with multiple meanings and purposes; we can interpret experience both visually and emotionally. A love story weaves through the pages; the fighter-pilot-hero is inseparable from the quotidian of home life and romance. As memento mori, the albums narrate operational peril and anticipated death. Simultaneously, they articulate his desire to defy that fate, even as he accepted its potential inevitability. Alongside the images of action, ceremony and publicity, Caldwell’s albums visually declare: I was there. I survived. I contributed. I mattered. Most significantly, Caldwell’s visual memoir mediates trauma and bitterness.

Written memoir is a selective rendition of a life – often leaving out pain, trauma, memories of the dead, and feelings regarding morally challenging actions. Caldwell’s visual memoir is also selective: his albums do not recount his full life story. And that is where the biographer comes in. He, she – I – can dig deeper and around. Consult other evidence. Contextualise.

Caldwell experienced decades of physical and psychological pain but he largely masked it. Only his intimates knew of it. If he mentioned it, it was with laughter – the hurricane crash, for example, became a dinner speech anecdote. He achieved much in his business career. His love for his wife lasted a lifetime – and was reciprocated. Friends shared memories of him with me, attesting to the depth of their feelings. He was missed. He may have felt that the RAAF failed to recognise his wartime contribution but many – all around the world – did. His place in history is well earned. He is well remembered. He contributed and mattered.

*****

Returning to Caldwell’s albums after so many years, I discovered they are not neutral archives; they are emotional and psychological artefacts – material culture through which Caldwell framed his personal narrative even as he mitigated the recurring terror of immolation. By highlighting those meanings rather than just the content, I hope – in Clive Caldwell Mark II – to offer a fuller understanding of this very human aviation legend.

And now, just one last photo: it’s my all-time favourite, taken during his publicity tour of America. It proclaims Caldwell as a romantic fighter-pilot-hero.

Clive Robertson Caldwell. Australia's highest scoring fighter pilot of the Second World War

Clive Robertson Caldwell was born on 28 July 1910. On the 103rd anniversary of his birth it is fitting to look back on the aviation career of Australia’s highest scoring fighter pilot of the Second World War.

 

 

Caldwell was educated at Trinity and Sydney Grammar schools, leaving before he turned 17. Pressured by his father, he joined the Bank of New South Wales. Caldwell and the bank were not a good fit so he resigned. After a stint jackerooing up north and a partnership in a private garage, he joined the MLC Assurance Company. As a child, he had read of the exploits of British and German Great War aces: ‘like most boys, I thought that this was the thing—how to be one such as they. I could picture myself there, rolling through the clouds, shooting them down and becoming a fighter ace!’ He joined the Royal Aero Club and by the time war broke out had acquired a total of ten or eleven flying hours.

At 29, he knew it was almost too late to be a fighter pilot so asked a friend who was a chemist to professionally amend the date on his birth certificate. When he arrived at the Royal Australian Air Force recruitment centre with the altered document he was challenged about his age but Caldwell said it was not their place to cross-examine him. He had been asked to produce a birth certificate, and he had. Two months later, he was accepted by the RAAF as a cadet officer for pilot training but soon discovered his course was destined to become instructors. He resigned and was accepted into the Empire Air Training Scheme.

He carried out all of his training in Australia and received his flying badge in November 1940. On 12 January 1941, he was granted his commission. He embarked for the Middle East and, after a brief stint with 73 Squadron RAF, joined 250 Squadron RAF on 8 May, just as it was converting to the Tomahawk IIB.

250 Squadron was called upon to assist with the invasion of Syria. Caldwell’s first sortie was on 12 May, escorting bombers to Palmyra airfield. There was no action in the air but he carried out some ground strafing and set one enemy aircraft on fire, and damaged another. Over the next few days, he carried out a number of sorties in Syria and Cyprus and escort flights during the evacuation of Crete. On 11 June, the squadron received a signal to prepare to take part in Operation Battleaxe, the army campaign to relieve Tobruk.

Caldwell took off at dawn on 18 June but had to land again with electrical trouble. He was in the air again fifteen minutes later but the other Tomahawks were about sixty miles ahead. This did not deter Caldwell:

 

I suddenly came on two lorries. As I closed toward [them], the crews jumped out and dived into the ditch at the roadside. I opened fire on the first truck at about 500 yards and then suddenly another chap popped out of the second truck. I...knocked him off like a ninepin. He fairly leapt into the air and came down flat on his back in the road! Well, I turned and gave the lorries another splash just to fix [them] for sure, then put a burst across the three Jerries lying in plain view in the ditch and so did them in. About ten miles further along, I found five lorries all dispersed in a circle and had a go at them, putting three out of action. In the meantime, they opened up with machine guns and a bit of tracer was flying about. I had a stab at one gun post and silenced that, fixing the two gunners and pushed off toward Tobruk.

 

Caldwell eventually caught up with his detachment. On the way home, they were jumped by four Me 109s. Caldwell engaged one without success. The Germans’ shooting was more accurate and three Tomahawks were shot down, one in flames. Caldwell saw one of the pilots bale out. As he floated down towards the sea, two Messerschmitts dived on him. The first fired, but missed and zoomed away. A stream of bullets from the second hit the helpless pilot as he swung in the cords of his parachute. Then there was stillness. The body drifted down towards the sea. It was recovered later, riddled with bullets. From that point, Caldwell had no qualms about shooting down enemy parachutists.

Although he was desperate to become one, Caldwell was not a natural fighter pilot and once confessed it took about thirty sorties before he scored his first air-to-air combat victory. He became frustrated by his lack of verified claims. He eventually discovered an effective technique almost by accident:

 

I noticed the shadows were quite clear there, running over the desert. It occurred to me that if I could hit the shadow, I could hit the aircraft by simply transposing the relative position. By firing at the shadow I could see the dust go up...So I turned the guns on and my reflector sight on and opened fire on the shadow well back, and found my...burst was over and behind it. I tried it again, just a quick squirt on the trigger; you know, half a second burst. Same thing. By the time I’d had about six of these one second bursts I found that I was beginning to correct my shooting. And so quite obviously this was the answer.

 

Caldwell demonstrated the technique to his commanding officer who was so impressed he reported it to headquarters. A directive was soon sent to all desert fighter squadrons to adopt shadow shooting.

 

 

On 25 June, a contingent of Tomahawks were returning home after a bomber escort when the enemy fighters arrived:

 

Down they came on us like bombs. In the first rush no one was hurt and they carried on away down in their dive. As we got near Tobruk the [anti-aircraft fire] opened up and we shifted away a bit, then they arrived in force and about forty machines got going on us. I was sort of flopping about all over the sky trying to get fixed and having a shot now and then as one flashed by. I got on one chap’s tail and was just going along well when I heard a couple of sharp taps and saw some holes appear in my wing and tracer slipping by just beside the cockpit so I deduced that one must be on my tail and took plenty of violent action to spook him off. When I recovered from the shock I was at about 9000 feet and more or less unattached. Then just below me, out of the general ruck...an Me 109 quickly flew straight and level, so I winged over and dived on it. He saw me and dived too, but I managed to close to about 150 feet and let him have the lot. We raced on down, me firing like hell and as we got truly low, I began to pull out and he just kept right on, hit the ground and exploded with a hell of a flash.

 

Caldwell had finally achieved his first acknowledged victory.

During his training, Caldwell was taught the duty of killing: the prevailing doctrine was that the fighter pilot’s job was to kill but the killer instinct can only be acquired when the pilot enters combat. The quicker he acquires this, the better his chances of surviving. Caldwell’s killer instinct was based on a sound fighting philosophy: ‘use your head before your guns. Always attack. Always be aggressive and determined. Never relax that attitude. Be decisive and quick’. His score quickly mounted and he acquired the sobriquet ‘Killer’, a nickname he grew to despise.

On 29 August, ten Tomahawks were sent on a convoy patrol and encountered the enemy. Caldwell was acting as weaver when he was sighted by two Me 109s, which appeared almost simultaneously, one from astern and the other from his port side. He saw neither as they launched their attack. His aircraft sustained much damage. He was hit in his left shoulder and hip and small pieces of glass embedded in his face. The aircraft spun out of control and he blacked out while pulling out of the dive. When he came to, he considered baling but the fire died out. He decided to remain in his Tomahawk:

 

All of a sudden streams of smoke started to go past me, two 109s were after me...I thought, ‘Well, I’ve bought it this time definitely’. I did what I could, but a bullet hit the wing again, and that didn’t help me very much, and I must have been about a quarter of an hour with those blokes chasing me and skidding, and me all the time trying to turn and watch them and the sweat just dripping out of my helmet with fright and hard work. And then one of them did a silly thing. He got a little bit over-confident, and when I turned once he just turned round and overshot me, and I put a burst into his belly and he went into the sea. The other chap let me go. It was just on dark, and he probably wanted to go home and was out of ammunition.

 

With the destruction of this Me 109, Caldwell had become an ‘ace’. He had five confirmed victories, three half shares, six damaged, one probable and one unconfirmed. As well as recognition as an ace, Caldwell’s efforts resulted in his being awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

 

 

Caldwell continued to score air victories with 250 Squadron, including the famous ‘Stuka party’ of 5 December 1941 when, in a firing spree that took about 18 seconds, he accounted for five Stukas, and became an ace in a day. For this action, he was awarded the bar to his Distinguished Flying Cross. On 28 December, he was notified that he was to command 112 Squadron RAF, flying Kittyhawk Is. He continued to notch up victories as he developed an aggressive leadership style which also resulted in squadron success. During Caldwell’s period as commander, 112 Squadron accounted for eighteen and three shared destroyed enemy aircraft. He was awarded the Polish Cross of Valour in appreciation of his gallant co-operation with the Polish pilots of 112 Squadron. When Caldwell left the Middle East in May 1942, his official score was 20½ enemy aircraft destroyed: he had become the top-scoring desert fighter pilot.

After brief stints in America and the UK, where he flew operations to France with the Kenley Wing in order to familiarise himself with the Spitfire, Caldwell returned to Australia. He was initially posted to 2 Operational Training Unit in Mildura as a flying instructor and then carried out tests on the Boomerang. He took command of 1 Fighter Wing in November 1942.

1 Fighter Wing consisted of 54 Squadron RAF and 452 and 457 squadrons RAAF. Flying Spitfire Mark Vcs initially and later the Mark VIII, they were tasked with the defence of Australia. The Wing arrived at Darwin in January 1943. Wing Commander Caldwell was itching to get back into combat, and was looking forward to leading the Wing against the Japanese. Since February 1942, fifty air raids had been carried out over the Darwin area and it was reasonable to assume his opportunity would come soon. However, the Japanese attack plan changed about this time: they started carrying out heavy raids at intervals rather than small but frequent attacks. This became a frustrating period for Caldwell but he made the most of the few opportunities offered and led his Wing with dynamism and skill. One defence, however, left him open to criticism at the highest levels.

 

 

At 9.26 a.m. on 2 May 1943, the Bathurst Island RDF station recorded the first plots of enemy aircraft and almost immediately alerted fighter sector control. It was the 54th Japanese raid over Australia. Thirty-three Spitfires were scrambled and 1 Spitfire Wing was ordered to rendezvous at 10,000 feet above Hughes strip.

After rendezvous, the controller advised Caldwell that twenty-plus bombers, escorted by a large number of fighters, was approaching from west-north-west at approximately 20,000 feet, and confirmed Darwin as the target. When the Wing was about ten miles north east of Darwin, at 26,000 feet, the enemy formation was sighted passing West Point. The bombers crossed the harbour and Caldwell saw the escorting fighters above the bombers. The Wing had attained 27,000 feet by this stage but was still not in a position to attack advantageously so Caldwell decided to continue climbing for height, letting the bombers continue on their way. He would attack on their way out.

The Japanese bombers were 26,000 feet above the RAAF aerodrome at Darwin when they commenced bombing at 10.15 a.m. Their fighter escort was at 31,000 feet, but the Spitfire Wing had attained only 30,000 feet. After bomb release, the Japanese turned right. The Spitfire Wing levelled out at 32,500 feet. It had now attained its maximum advantage and turned west, moving to intercept the enemy aircraft as they crossed the coast on their way out. The Wing was in a sound formation, with squadrons sections abreast, and the Wing in squadrons abreast. But then, 54 Squadron lost position and dropped astern. As the enemy crossed the coast just east of Point Blaze, 452 and 457 squadrons were in an excellent position to attack but, despite being ordered to by Caldwell, 54 Squadron did not close the gap. It was some considerable distance behind and eight minutes elapsed before it came into position. Once this happened, the attack commenced. 54 Squadron was instructed to attack the fighter cover, 457 was to attack the bombers, and 452 were to follow 457, keeping their tails clear during their attack on the bombers, engaging as many fighters as possible, and also covering 457’s withdrawal back up on the sunward side.

54 Squadron’s pilots hurtled down at 400 miles per hour in an almost vertical dive and claimed one damaged bomber, two destroyed fighters, one probable fighter and three damaged fighters. Whilst 54 Squadron was diving to attack the fighters, 457 attacked the bombers. The Japanese fighter escort turned to face 457 head-on, successfully diverting their attack. Even so, 457 squadron destroyed one fighter, probably destroyed one more and two were damaged.

After 457 Squadron attacked, Caldwell led 452 Squadron into the battle. Diving steeply, he attacked a Zero at close range. He had problems with his cannons, his aircraft slewed starboard and he missed the Zero. He broke up sharply and was attacked by two Zeros, one of which commenced firing. Caldwell dived under them, but another came up behind him, and Pilot Officer Kenneth Fox fired on it until it turned away. Fox then engaged another Zero, but his Spitfire was hit in the engine and he baled out. Flying Officer Adrian Goldsmith destroyed a bomber but was then attacked by a Hap. His controls were shot away and he too baled out. Caldwell destroyed a Zero and a Hap, and the squadron claimed two probably destroyed Zeros and a damaged Hap. The whole engagement lasted twenty minutes.

From a Japanese perspective, the raid was a success. They claimed twenty-one shot down and four probables. No losses were acknowledged. The fighters were successful in protecting the bombers, and the bombers reached their target. Although major damage was not done there was some nuisance value.

From the Wing’s perspective, the engagement was not a success. Despite its advantage of sun, height and speed, results were not up to expectations. Although it had destroyed or damaged a number of fighters, the Wing only claimed one bomber destroyed and one damaged. Two Spitfire pilots were killed and fourteen Spitfires were destroyed or damaged—of which only three could be directly attributed to enemy action. A number of factors impacted on the Wing’s success, including the skill of the Japanese pilots, weaponry problems, the Spitfire’s lack of fuel capacity, the tactics used and general lack of fighter combat experience in the Wing.

1 Fighter Wing’s defence was criticised by General MacArthur’s headquarters and General Kenney. Media reaction was harsh, and public confidence in the Spitfire defence was shaken. Shortly after, the Advisory War Council requested Air Vice-Marshal George Jones, Chief of Air Staff, to make a full report of the action. His report failed to acknowledge long term Spitfire maintenance problems and that Caldwell’s battle strategy had been predetermined. He also appeared to pay more attention to erroneous media reports than to post-battle debriefs. He ignored the fact that Caldwell had warned his pilots on a number of occasions to keep an eye on their fuel consumption and was critical of Caldwell’s leadership.

Caldwell replied to Jones’ criticism of his actions by claiming his pilots had been properly directed during the engagements, and if they had obeyed their instructions, they would have reached base safely. It also angered him that Jones did not directly consult him about the Wing’s defence. Throughout his life, Caldwell maintained his anger over the treatment of the Wing after Raid 54. He later stated: ‘I regret to say that our own Chief of Air Staff, without bothering to check the facts…abandoned us. And we were disgusted.’

A number of changes were made as a consequence of Raid 54, including the use of belly tanks on Spitfires. In addition, the dogfight was largely abandoned in favour of the dive-pass attack method, with emphasis on attacking only with the advantage of height. The Wing quickly assimilated the new tactics and effected a successful defence on 20 June. Caldwell shot down his fifth enemy aircraft over Darwin and was awarded the Distinguished Service Order shortly after. With an official score of 25½ victories this Japanese victory saw Caldwell become an ace five times over and an ace in two different theatres of war. This was a unique achievement for an Australian pilot.

 

Caldwell scored two more victories against the Japanese, taking his official score to 27½. He was posted to 2 Operational Training Unit as Chief Flying Instructor in September 1943. Towards the end of the war, having attained the rank of Group Captain, he commanded 80 Fighter Wing, was involved in the so-called ‘Morotai Mutiny’ and was court-martialled for liquor trading. After the war, he went into import/export and established a successful business career.

Caldwell died peacefully on 5 August 1994 after a long illness. He had been proud of his wartime achievements and did not regret any of his actions. Those who loved and respected him recalled a courageous and dedicated leader who had been acclaimed by Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder as ‘an excellent leader and a first class shot’. Despite the controversial aspects of the latter stage of his air force career, Caldwell was deeply committed to a concept of duty and believed it was his responsibility to help defeat the enemy. However, he did not wear the strictures of the RAAF well and was often at odds with elements of the air force hierarchy. Even so, he had accomplished much. His innovative skills led to his discovery of shadow shooting, which he considered to be his most important contribution to the war in the air. He was the first Australian empire air scheme trainee to become a flight commander. He was the first to command a squadron and was also the first graduate to rise to the rank of group captain. He had been officially attributed with 27½ victories and was Australia’s highest scoring fighter pilot of the Second World War. With his remarkable war time achievements, Clive Caldwell holds an important place in many hearts and in Australia’s war time history.

 

Clive Caldwell Air Ace available from www.alexanderfaxbooks.com.au

Ebook available from amazon http://www.amazon.com/Clive-Caldwell-Air-Ace-ebook/dp/B0051SIUX0/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1369553196&sr=1-1&keywords=clive+caldwell+air+ace

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kristen Alexander's online interview with Justin Sheedy

I recently had the pleasure of being interviewed by author Justin Sheedy. This appeared on his Goodbye, Crackernight blog at http://crackernight.com/2013/07/01/kristen-alexander-author-of-australian-eagles-australians-in-the-battle-of-britain-interviewed-by-fellow-author-justin-sheedy/

 

Justin very kindly allowed me to republish the interview here. The formatting is not quite the same but the substance is!

 

Kristen Alexander is the author of Clive Caldwell Air Ace (Allen & Unwin 2006) and Jack Davenport Beaufighter Leader (Allen & Unwin 2009), two definitive biographies of Australians at war which have been received just as warmly by the general reading public as by military history experts. 

Australia Eagles by Kristen Alexander

 

Demonstrating her flair for rich historical detail at the same time as being accessible and easy to read, Kristen’s latest offering, Australian Eagles, Australians in the Battle of Britain has this week been published by Barrallier Books.  I was lucky enough to interview Kristen in the lead-up to this highly-anticipated release…

 

Your literary portraits of Australian air-combat heroes from World War II have been thoroughly enjoyed and widely acclaimed by both Australian and International readers.  What are your key inspirations to write about these amazing young men?

 

I came to Clive Caldwell’s story almost by accident. My husband and I own a second hand book business, specialising in military history. We purchased some letters written by Caldwell during his time in the Western Desert, shortly after his first victories. I read the letters and was fascinated. I wanted to learn something about the man who wrote so freshly, vibrantly and candidly—the letters were to a male friend—about his experiences. I started researching him and decided to do a talk for my military history group. One of my friends said ‘there’s a book there’ and so I continued researching!

 

 

 

Jack Davenport also came about by accident. While writing Clive Caldwell Air Ace I spoke to Peter Ilbery, who had done a lot of research on the Empire Air Training Scheme, as I wanted to clarify some aspects of the scheme. We also talked about Caldwell as a leader and the nature of leadership and Peter, who had served with 455 Squadron during the war, compared Caldwell’s leadership practice with that of 455’s one-time CO Jack Davenport. Sometime after finishing CCAA, aviation author Lex McAulay, who assumed I would continue to research Australian pilots, emailed me a list of possible ‘candidates’. Jack Davenport was on the list. Next thing I knew, Peter was on the phone saying he had heard I was going to write about Jack Davenport. And it seemed I was!

 

 

 

 

From the start, my Battle of Britain research was something I was consciously drawn to. I had finished Jack Davenport Beaufighter Leader and was reading H.E. Bates’ A Moment in Time, which is set during the Battle of Britain. An Australian was mentioned and I wondered if Australians had really fought in the Battle or if Bates had been exercising some creative licence. It only took a little reading to discover Australians had fought and by that stage I wanted to know more, and from there I set forth on a new research path.

 

Whatever the original spark, I have concentrated more on writing about the person behind the pilot than the battles in which they fought. I wanted to try and understand what motivated them, what made them a good pilot, and the importance of their relationships with other people. For me, biography is my writing inspiration; the people who make up history. But I still want to get the history right, and so I read a lot about the ‘life and times’ of my subjects so I can set them and their experiences in the historical context. 

 

What qualities from the Australian ‘national character’ would you say made these young Australians stand out on the ‘world stage’ on which they fought?

 

We are a laid back country but when something gets under our skin passion and commitment flare up. We are willing to fight for a cause and in the Second World War that cause was freedom from tyranny. All my pilots share a love of their country, whether the one in which they were born, or an adopted homeland; a commitment to duty; and a flash of larrikinism or the tendency to go beyond the rules when necessary. They were also loyal to their comrades: mateship, of course, is another very Australian trait.

Just one highly-praised aspect of your works is how you so richly capture the ‘atmosphere of the times’ in which these shining young Australians put their lives on the line to defend Australia and the Free World, often crossing the world to do so.  Do you think, given similar circumstances today, that young Australians would do the same en masse as they did in World War II?   

 

 

I think we would. And plenty already do. Our brave servicemen and women have been fighting in Afghanistan for many years; our peacekeepers continue to make the world a better place; our emergency personnel drop everything to offer their expertise during disasters here and in other countries. We are a nation of volunteers and donators to great causes and we value democracy and a safe world. This commitment to others is a part of the Australian psyche. If our homeland were threatened, we would rise to the challenge just like the young men and women who served in so many capacities during our world wars.

 

 

The Author at Home

 

Fighter pilots from World War II even in their own lifetimes achieved a legendary ‘mystique’ with the wider public, an almost ‘super-human’ aura about them by contrast to ‘mere mortals’ like us. And yet these young fighter pilots were human beings just like us.  What human qualities do you think characterised these young men given the amazing feats they performed?

 

They were dedicated to flying. More than that, they were passionate about flying. Clive Caldwell lied about his age and, when he discovered all on his training course would end up as instructors, he finagled his way out of it and into fighter training. Dick Glyde overcame a slight curvature of spine when he was turfed out of the RAAF for medical reasons and applied for the RAF. And when they became pilots, they did all they could to ensure they were the best. Clive Caldwell practised shooting and devised his own technique to perfect his art. John Crossman diligently supervised the maintenance of his Hurricane to ensure it was in tip top condition. And when they were fighting, they let nothing distract them from their duty.

 

That commitment to duty was the trait that impressed me the most, especially in relation to the Battle of Britain pilots. All of my subjects displayed a commitment to duty but there was a difference. Clive Caldwell and Jack Davenport enlisted knowing they would have to fight but the Battle of Britain pilots did not set out to fight a war. They joined the air force so they could fly. But when war came, they accepted that they would have to fight; it was their duty. John Crossman said it all: ‘Should this last any time it seems unlikely that I’ll ever see home again. Still I expect it can’t be helped. A fellow has to realise that.’ And then he decided to apply for fighter training instead of bomber training, as he had originally planned, so he could take the fight to the Germans.  

 

Your first book, Clive Caldwell Air Ace, was a portrait of Australia’s top-scoring fighter pilot from World War II, your next the warmly received Jack Davenport Beaufighter Leader, portrait of this so very impressive Australian bomber pilot.  What would you say are the key personality differences between these two different breeds, fighter pilot / bomber pilot?

 

Hard work paid off!

 

Clive Caldwell and Jack Davenport were remarkable men who achieved great things in war and peace. I think the key difference between them as fighter pilot and bomber pilot was that Clive Caldwell was an individualist—he was accused of being a lone wolf by his squadron—which made him a good combat pilot. He could accept risks to his own safety; he wasn’t responsible for any other man. Jack Davenport wanted to be a bomber pilot from the beginning because he felt a responsibility to others, and he was willing to accept that. He was what we would now call a team player; operations aside, his crew would always come first. And that’s what made him a good bomber pilot and crew leader.

 

Both were touched by war but those experiences left very different legacies. I think the main reason for such different reactions to the war can be seen in the nature of their service. As a fighter pilot, Caldwell was solely responsible for himself and his actions. In aerial combat, he looked into the whites of his enemies’ eyes, so to speak, and he saw his comrades fall in battle, sometimes in flames, or shot down as they parachuted from their aircraft. He saw upturned faces of the perhaps still living Japanese aircrew. He was wounded in battle at least once. Death for him was an almost intimate experience. As a bomber and anti-shipping pilot, Jack Davenport, like Caldwell, encountered danger on each sortie but he was more removed from the enemy. He dropped his bombs in darkness on cities often obscured by smog haze. He fired torpedoes, cannons and rockets at huge merchant ships whose anti-aircraft defences were firing directly at him. He may have seen their bodies blown off the vessels, but he did not see faces of the flak operators or enemy sailors. They did not return to haunt him. And rather than dwell on the long ago encounters, he eschewed inward contemplation of his role in warfare. He turned his attention outwards, towards others.

 

Your next release is Australian Eagles, Australians in the Battle of Britain.  What can readers expect from this, your latest offering?

 

Australian Eagles by Kristen Alexander

 

More biography! Though this time I look at the lives and flying careers of six airmen. Australian Eagles is a collection of six biographical essays. It has been solidly researched but it is perhaps more accessible to a broader readership than my first two books in that I don’t interrupt the flow of the story with references. Other than some brief introductory material, I don’t retell the story of the Battle of Britain. I just focus on the place ‘my’ boys had in the Battle. Because the majority of the essays were originally published in Wings, the RAAF Association’s magazine, they are short biographies that can be read in one sitting. The simpler storytelling is a different approach for me and the essay form meant I had to focus on key aspects of ‘my’ pilots’ lives. In addition to Jack Kennedy’s, Dick Glyde’s, John Crossman’s and Des Sheen’s stories which were originally published in Wings, Australian Eagles includes Stuart Walch’s and James Coward’s stories, which I have not published before. And because I could not help myself, I have added new information to all the Wings stories.

 

The book is beautifully produced on quality paper with lots of photos. I have signed and numbered each one of the collectors’ edition of 500 copies. I am very proud of Australian Eagles.

 

Ever since Winston Churchill coined his legendary rhetoric, the Battle of Britain has been mythologised as Britain and the Commonwealth’s ‘finest hour’.  Given your intense labour of research in writing Australian Eagles, what would you say might have been the Battle’s ‘finest hour’?

 

I think the Battle of Britain produced many fine hours: The moment when the pilots committed to a possible death in battle when all they had wanted to do in the first place was fly. The moment when a fighter pilot became embroiled in deadly a dogfight and twisted and turned until he could line up in his sights another aircraft, flown by a man perhaps as young as he. And then fire. The moment when the British people decided to thumb their noses at Hitler and not succumb to the threat of a possible invasion or to give up under bombardment. Britain can take it. She certainly could. There are too many fine hours to pinpoint just one.

 

The iconic Spitfire

 

If the young Allied pilots were the heroes of the Battle of Britain, it might be said that the ‘heroines’ were the fighter aircraft they flew: The legendary Spitfire and Hurricane.  In the ensuing 73 years since the Battle was won, much has been written about these two aircraft, and to this day there exists divided preference as to which was the greater in terms of their contribution towards ultimate victory in the Battle.  Which would you nominate as the greater and why?

 

I’m not falling into that trap! Both aircraft had their vices and virtues. Flown with skill and daring, they were both lethal weapons. The Spitfire and Hurricane were not the only heroines of wartime. We mustn’t forget the women who waited for their men to come back: the Jean Caldwells in Australia who feared the arrival of a telegram and the Sheila Davenports in the United Kingdom who dreaded a call from the Station Commander after an op, but who ultimately welcomed their husbands home, and the Pat Foleys who had no idea when their fiancés would return and then received the cruel telegram advising a tragic death. They were true heroines.

 

As a result of the limited gender perceptions that prevailed in the World War II era, only young men were ever considered as capable of becoming fighter pilots.  As a female author with more passion for and detailed knowledge of the era than most men, have you ever dreamed of being a Spitfire pilot?

 

Oh no. My passions lie elsewhere. I leave it to ‘my’ boys to experience the joy of flight in Spitfire, Hurricane, Kitty Hawk or Beaufighter. I don’t feel that I am at a disadvantage as an author of aviation biography in not being a pilot. From the beginning, I have wanted ‘my’ boys to tell their stories in their own words. I am just the conduit for them to have their say. Where possible, I draw on their own flying experiences through letters, diaries and other written works, combat report and interviews. After all, any experience I have would be very different from theirs! 

 

What are the most important messages that you would hope readers take away from reading Australian Eagles, Australians in the Battle of Britain? What is THE most important?

 

That Australians did indeed participate in the Battle of Britain, that they fought well, and bravely. That some gave their lives to protect the freedom of others and that their sacrifice is remembered. Perhaps the most important message is that they ARE remembered.  

 

Australian Eagles, Australians in the Battle of Britain by Kristen Alexander is now available.  You can purchase Australian Eagles (ISBN 9780987414229) as well as Clive Caldwell Air Ace and Jack Davenport Beaufighter from www.alexanderfaxbooks.com.au (which is owned by Kristen and her husband David).  All copies will be signed. 

 

When ordering, please let Kristen know if you would like a personal message.

 

 

If you prefer to load up your ereader, you can obtain the ebooks via amazon http://www.amazon.com/Clive-Caldwell-Air-Ace-ebook/dp/B0051SIUX0/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1369553196&sr=1-1&keywords=clive+caldwell+air+ace

http://www.amazon.com/Jack-Davenport-ebook/dp/B0042JSPOI/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1369553254&sr=1-1&keywords=jack+davenport+beaufighter

Connect with Kristen at:

www.kristenalexander.com.au

https://www.facebook.com/KristenAlexanderAuthor

https://www.facebook.com/AlexanderFaxBooksellers

 

Author Justin Sheedy

 

Interviewer, Justin Sheedy, is the author of Goodbye Crackernight, a comic memoir of growing up in 1970s Australia, and of Nor the Years Condemn, an historical fiction based on the stunning (and untold) true story of the young Australians who flew Spitfires in World War II.  See Sheedy’s interview with Kristen at http://crackernight.com/2013/07/01/kristen-alexander-author-of-australian-eagles-australians-in-the-battle-of-britain-interviewed-by-fellow-author-justin-sheedy/

“Goodbye Crackernight” by Justin Sheedy

 

“Goodbye Crackernight” is available at Dymocks, also as an Ebook and in paperback at Amazon.  “Nor the Years Condemn” is available at Dymocks, in paperback at Amazon and as an Ebook at Smashwords.

 

And now at Gleebooks, Berkelouw Books Paddington and The Australian War Memorial. Sheedy’s latest book, Ghosts of the Empire (much-anticipated Sequel to “Nor the Years Condemn”) will be released at the end of July 2013. 

“Nor the Years Condemn” by Justin