
By David Phillips
LONG before I was born, my father’s life depended on the reliability of parts produced by Rover. That was quite a while before Land Rover itself was born, too. The world’s best 4×4 wasn’t even a twinkle in Maurice Wilks’ eye when Dad flew in the bombing raids of the Second World War.
Those bombers my father and his RAF comrades flew in relied upon parts produced by Rover and other motor manufacturers, whose factories were turned over to production for the war effort.
Items produced by Rover included wings for Lancaster bombers and the amazing 14-cylinder Bristol Hercules radial engine that at 1300 bhp (1700 bhp in later models) was twice as powerful as the more famous Rolls-Royce Merlin engine (for which Rover also machined some components). It was fitted to the Short Stirling bombers that were instrumental in the heavy bombing raids on German cities that helped hasten the end of the war in Europe. Lode Lane churned them out at the rate of 80 a week.

As a young boy growing up in Hampshire’s New Forest, my father was fascinated by the achievements of the local Supermarine company, who tested their Schneider Trophy-winning seaplanes in the nearby Solent. He was among the tens of thousands of spectators that lined the shores of Southampton Water in 1931 when the British team set both a new world speed record of 380 mph and won the trophy outright with a third straight win. Later, the winning Supermarine S.6B broke the world speed record twice more, making it the first craft to break the 400 mph barrier.
History was being made — and it was to change the fortunes of both Supermarine and young William Phillips.

In my father’s case, it inspired him to join the RAF. He enlisted in 1935. By now political events in Europe meant another European war was first likely; later inevitable.

By this time, Supermarine’s talented aircraft designer R J (Reginald Joseph) Mitchell had turned his skills to the war effort. Mitchell had joined Supermarine in 1917, aged just 22, and within three years had progressed to chief designer. Tragically, in 1933 he developed rectal cancer, which turned out to be terminal. Time was precious for the young designer, who managed to create both the Spitfire fighter and a four-engined heavy bomber (the Type 317) before he died in June 1937, aged just 42.
He never lived to see his most famous creation, the Spitfire, lead the fight against Nazi Germany in the summer of 1940. Despite being greatly outnumbered, the pilots of the Spitfire and Hurricane craft averted an invasion.
The Air Ministry had been impressed by Mitchell’s new bomber, too, but cancelled its order after the Southampton factory was badly damaged by Luftwaffe bombers in September 1940. Supermarine needed to devote its resources to the production of Spitfires — of which 20,351 were built between 1938 and 1948. Meanwhile, the demand for heavy bombers was filled by Lancaster, Wellington, Stirling and other leviathans of the skies.

Dad was based at RAF Marham in Norfolk at the outbreak of the war, in September 1939. He was a tail gunner in Stirlings and Lancasters, as well as Wellingtons and all manner of heavy bombers.

My father, who passed away in January 2012, aged 94, must have been pretty good at his job, as he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal, which was presented to him by King George VI, at Buckingham Palace. That, along with the rest of his medals and his flying log were donated by my family to the RAF Heritage Centre at Marham, where they are on permanent display.

Dad’s flying log reveals, among other things, that he was in the infamous mass raids over Cologne and other German cities when over 1000 bombers took part. His plane on the Cologne raid on the night of May 30-31, 1942, was a Stirling, powered by those Hercules engines built in Solihull — and he was lucky because 44 other planes that flew with him that night never returned.

I was lucky, too. While Dad was stationed at Marham he met my mother at a dance in nearby King’s Lynn. They married soon afterwards and in the 1940s produced my elder brother Ray and sisters Wendy and Angela. A decade later, in 1956, I arrived. Unplanned? Almost certainly. But I like to think I was a pleasant surprise.
Worth a visit
Or check out their Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/MarhamHeritageCentre




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