One of the last Kiwi Spitfire pilots and a jet pioneer
When Bill Warwick was a small boy he was taken for a joyride in a Tiger Moth biplane high above north Canterbury. The flight sparked a fascination with aircraft that led to fighting in a Spitfire above Europe and becoming one of the first New Zealanders to fly a jet plane.
But, once World War II came to a close, he soon returned to New Zealand to take over the family farm in Hawarden, north Canterbury, raise four children with his wife, June, and become an adored grandfather to his nine grandchildren, who knew him by the nickname Papasan.
After he left the air force in 1947, he never flew again.
His daughter, Paula Sheldon, remembers him as a hard-working, supportive and loyal father and grandfather.
‘‘He had nine grandchildren who absolutely adored and revered him. He just had that presence about him,’’ she said. ‘‘He just listened well and talked to them.’’
Warwick, who was one of the last surviving Kiwi Spitfire pilots, died at the age of 101 in Christchurch on May 17.
His life began in Hawarden on September 10, 1920. He worked in the Post Office and telephone exchange there before that fateful trip in the Tiger Moth, which took off from a country fair at Hawarden golf course and took in the scenic Lake Sumner to the northwest.
He joined the Royal New Zealand Air Force on August 17, 1941, just shy of his 21st birthday and as war raged in Europe.
After training in Tiger Moths in Levin, he was soon shipped out to North America, taking a nine-week journey on a boat full of butter and cheese. He crossed the Atlantic in a convoy.
His first operational flight in a Spitfire was a convoy escort across the English Channel in 1942. He was part of 504 Squadron and over the next two years he escorted bombing missions and completed other operations across occupied Europe.
Interviewed in 2020 by the Otago Daily Times, he said he was never shot down, but had close encounters with the enemy. ‘‘I was chased a little bit, most of us were.’’
But he said he was constantly in danger. ‘‘All the time. Everybody was in the same boat. A whole bunch of you were in danger simply because you were there. We got used to it, and just hoped to be home for tea.’’
During the war he flew Harvards, Spitfires, Typhoons, Oxfords and Hurricanes. Once the war ended, he became one of the first New Zealanders to fly the Gloster Meteor, a new jet plane. It was a popular fixture at victory parades.
‘‘We thought we were the cat’s pyjamas. We were just messing around,’’ he told Stuff in 2012.
In 1947, he came back to Hawarden after his father offered him the family farm. He returned with his new wife June, whom he married in Essex in November 1945.
They ran the farm until 1971, raising four children: Michael, Paula, Timothy and Judith. The family then sold the farm and moved to Christchurch, where Bill Warwick became assistant greenkeeper at Russley Golf Course and head greenkeeper in 1975.
He retired in 1985 and moved into a retirement home in 1995. June died in 2012.
After his move to the city, he became a member of the Christchurch Brevet Club, which is for armed forces pilots. Former president John Lay described Warwick as a ‘‘rugged gentlemen’’, while current president Kevin Jones said he was a ‘‘lovely, quiet guy’’.
Daughter Paula says he was a keen golfer, cricket player and smallbore rifle shooter.
‘‘He was very honest and loyal to his family. He was very supportive of us.
‘‘The cards we received after the funeral were quite moving. People had met him and spoken to him and remembered him as being very wellmannered.’’
She said he was reluctant to share his wartime experiences. ‘‘I think he was happy just to have survived it.’’
But, over the years, a couple of details emerged. ‘‘He chose to fly single-seater aeroplanes like the Spitfire, rather than a bomber, because the mortality rate was lower. He was 23 and he was making those kinds of decisions about his life.
‘‘After a mission, once he was back over the channel to England, he would hedge-hop. They flew so low over the countryside that they would have to pull up to clear the hedges. It was the joy of getting back alive.’’