1941, Thursday 30 October;
Sqn Ldr Boulton banked his Hurricane to port, the masts of the radar station on Kedah Peak coming into view, as he led his flight of four around the mountain, heading out over the Malacca Straits, Penang Island and the airfield at Bayan Lepas lying to the south of them. He’d recently transferred to RCAF 416, and together with the CO of RCAF 406 Sqn, Sqn Ldr Elmer Gaunce, a Canadian BoB ace, was tasked with balancing out both squadrons with a fair mix of experienced and green pilots. Ten days ago, HMCS Prince David had arrived with a considerable number of more newly trained Canadian pilots, most of whom would need a lot more time training. Old man Parks was in a rush to get both of the RCAF fighter squadrons, 406 and 416, operational.
All three pilots with him were very keen and showed good promise. They had all arrived some months ago and had progressed well, having mastered the simple flying requirements of take-off and landing, and flying in formation. Today they would have some target practice, strafing an old Naval barge, moored on a sandbank off the northern tip of Penang, with some wood and canvas mocked up superstructure, which would be the target. “Ok chaps, you should be seeing the target coming into view on your port side round about now, when I call your name, you will peel off, dive down like we’ve done before, and give the target a burst of your guns. I will not only be looking at your accuracy, but also how you approach and leave the target. When you have completed your attack, you will join me up here circling in line astern. OK, Jimmy, your first, off you go”
The roar of an aero engine behind him told of the rolling of a Hurricane into a dive as Flying Officer Jimmy Whalen went flying past. Jimmy watched his altimeter clock spin as the aircraft closed with the barge, damn, he was coming in too deep too soon, ‘Foss’ had told him, not too long on the deck, he’d buggered it up, well he’d better make sure his gunfire was on target. His thumb closed over the firing button, he pressed and watched as the splashes of bullets cutting into the water walked up to the barge and then shredded some of the canvas. Quickly he banked as well as pulling up, having to change line of flight and get some altitude.
Above, Boulton watched, room for improvement, but Whalen had done ok. “Ok Louis, your turn, remember what I’ve said” Again the aero engine roar told the story, as Flight Sergeant Goldberg went into his dive. Boulton watched carefully, the pilot was a bit older and calmer than the others, in time he might make a good leader. The Hurricane dived down at a better angle than Whalen’s, and he put a better aimed burst into the barge. As he climbed back up, Boulton smiled to himself, proud of his acolyte, yes Louis Goldberg had all the makings of becoming a first-class pilot and instructor like himself.
“OK Shorty, last but not least, down you go” Boulton smiled to himself aware he just made a bad pun, Shorty was nicknamed rightly so, being only five foot four and a half. Roaring away, Flt Sgt Reid swooped in on the barge. Determined not to make Whalen’s mistake he over compensated and left the dive too late, he barely got aim on the target before he was pulling hard on the stick and climbing out, even forgetting to alter his flight line. As he climbed up joining the others Boulton commented, “And that’s how not to do it! Ok, shall we have another go, off you go Jimmy”
They were flying back, Boulton quite satisfied with what they had done, he would be putting all three forward for operational duty, and recommending Goldberg be promoted to Pilot Officer. Newly built Kuala Ketil airfield was coming into view, the runway in front, everything still looking new and un-weathered. Boulton was going to watch them land, one at a time, and was looking forward to a few drinks in the mess tonight with the boys. His thoughts were interrupted, “Foss, I’ve got a problem with my engine, I’m losing power” it was Goldberg, his aircraft was falling behind. Bouton spoke into his mouthpiece “Jimmy, abort your landing, climb higher, Shorty fly high, give us some room, Louis I’ll circle round behind you”.
“Foss, the engines given up I’ll try to glide in” Boulton banked his aircraft, while he looked for Goldberg, where was he, Christ that’s low, too low to bail out. “Louis, Louis you need more height, your too low, try to restart the engine, you need to clear those trees”
“I’m trying Foss, the god damn son of a bitch isn’t answering, I’m pulling the wheels up, if I can just clear these trees” Boulton watched in horror as the starboard wingtip caught a tree, causing the Hurricane to veer right, and suddenly she was crashing through the jungle canopy, 800 yards short of the edge of the clearing for the airfield. Both wings were broken off, the fuselage smashing into a thick tree truck, the impact snapping Goldberg’s neck and killing him instantly.
By the time the other three Hurricanes had landed safely, a pall of smoke had risen from the crash site. But it would be another hour before ground crew cut their way through jungle to the wreckage and recovered the body. There would be no drinks in the mess tonight.