8 August 1937

Dear Mother:

Today is Sunday, and we, that is Thompson, Hoare, Graafstra and I, are going to Hunstanton this afternoon after tea. It is thirty miles away, but for one-third return we can go in the train.

We often drive up through lovely countryside - winding roads past Sandringham, the King's summer place, and many great estates and country seats. August is very warm in England, and today the sun is shining in very clear skies.

We all feel very said over the death of Ferris. I don't know how to explain it, but we six fighter pilots feel very close to each other as we fly close together thousands of feet above the earth in a real heaven of beautiful clouds and sunlight, to see Ferris smile at you as he skilfully but easily kept perfect formation with you - or see Hoare, who delights in taking his helmet and goggles off so that his hair blows back in the two hundred mile-an-hour breeze as you cruise along.

Still, he would have rather died this way than by a car accident. He had forty airmen and six officers at his funeral, and a salute was fired over his grave, which must have been very nice for his parents. On top of his coffin are placed the wreaths and his full dress peaked cap.

Well only a few weeks now and I shall be in a real first line Fighter Squadron. This life is really great and I wish it could go on forever. It is everything that a chap like myself could wish for. The only real drawback is being so far from home. Butä I travel about a great deal and see many strange and interesting places. The customs of the English are many and really varied I can assure you and take months and months of study. Every day I learn something new.

The river Nene flows just back of the Mess here, and old canal boats ply back and forth all day and night. Yesterday after tea Thompson, Graafstra and I went to Wisbech to see a show and buy a few necessities. These towns are very old and beautiful. Great green sports fields with cricketers in flannels - huge old oaks and famous cathedrals.

Yesterday I was on duty as range officer. Had to catch the six o'clock R.A.F. transport and travel ten miles to the sea, where we have our range. You work in a bullet proof range office with binoculars and signals, etc. Planes come down in terrific dives, spitting twin Vickers and bullets and links rattle all about you.

Overhead the Westland Wallace's tow target drogues upon which the planes dive and try to hole with their guns. Up to the present out fighters have been much more accurate at front gun than those of Netheravon.

Diving on ground targets takes a lot of judgment as you approach the ground at great speed and must wait to the last moment before pulling out of your dive. On top of that a Fury mushes badly on pulling out due to its scanty wing area. I make a specialty of casing the nose slightly down and roaring across the aerodrome at 500 feet flat out and doing a vertical turn coming around and easing her onto the grass (grawse). The crew all want to know what she did, as there is great rivalry with other crews as to the superior merits of K5666 etc.

On bad days, we fighters go up individually and go through our stuff and no strain is too great if we are trying to get the maximum effect. You should see the speeds we get up and then ease the Fury up vertically and so disappear into clouds while doing continuous vertical rolls. No civil machine could take it. If there is anything that a Fury won't do I'd like to hear about it. I do hope you saw the R.A.F. crack team of Furies in the pictures. They do perfect slow rolls in tight formation, the whole flight acting as one machine, a truly astounding feat.

They have just come back from Switzerland, where they gave an exhibition which was well received I can assure you.

We fighter pupils were slightly interested in what the crack fighter squadrons could do. We have no idea what squadrons we will go to, but will find out the first week in September. Well, the rest of the Wittering lot will be here from Netheravon at the end of next week.

Bob won't tell me anything of his job, but I'd like to know what he actually does. I hope Jean sticks to tennis and really learns the game. How does Ronny like the water. I can't get over the amount of salt in the sea. Where does it come from? We met four Australian girls at Hunstanton last Sunday. They had a car and had toured all Europe and were looking through the British Isles before return to Brisbane in September. Boy! They must have money. They liked Germany the best of all. Enough for now, and I hope my letters give you some share in my interesting (to me anyway) experiences.

Love Bill