Pilots Of The Caribbean
During World War II, a group of brave volunteers from Africa and the Caribbean joined the RAF to help defend Britain’s skies
Forgotten heroes of the RAF from World War II
At the height of World War II several thousand volunteers from Africa and the Caribbean travelled across the world to train and fight during Britain’s darkest hour. These individuals would participate as comrades in all three armed forces, as soldiers, sailors and members of the RAF. Yet despite the brave tales of heroism and derringdo, these volunteers are often ignored in military history.
The stories of these RAF volunteers are some of the most fascinating and awe-inspiring of the entire war and yet we rarely see them discussed or portrayed in film and television. The organisation officially removed the so-called ‘colour bar’ in 1939, a rule that dictated that only white British men of European descent could join up. However, following the outbreak of war the policy was deemed outdated. The necessity for a continuous stream of skilled pilots and crew was more important than racial background, and the tragic losses during the Battle of Britain made that even more apparent. With the bar lifted, a group of eager volunteers were able to join and prove their ability in a variety of roles. The contributions of these African and Caribbean volunteers cannot be understated. Many went on to live extraordinary lives after
the war too, from being the president of Barbados to voicing a character in TV series Captain Scarlet And The Mysterons.
At the outbreak of war in 1939 roughly one-quarter of the world’s population lived in Commonwealth nations or countries under the control of the British Empire. As such, each country was involved in some way with the war. “As in World War I, Britain’s African colonies provided essential raw materials and foodstuffs, including iron ore from Sierra Leone and cocoa from Nigeria,” explains Peter Devitt, curator of the RAF Museum at Hendon, London. “The Caribbean colonies offered natural resources such as aluminium ore from British Guiana (now Guyana) and oil, which was plentiful in Trinidad. Coffee, rum and bananas were also exported. While these essentials were being sent to the mother country, there were severe shortages in the West Indies and rationing was introduced.” However, despite living under colonial control and subject to rationing, numerous individuals from these countries decided that they would take a more direct approach to the conflict. With the lifting of the colour bar, they travelled to Britain and volunteered.
Just how many volunteered might be the cause of some surprise. “Some 6,000 African-caribbean volunteers joined the RAF and RCAF. It’s safe to say 450 served as aircrew, and that 150 of these men were killed,” reveals Devitt. In Africa the colonial authorities restricted enlistment and only 60 were able to join. However, 5,200 joined the West African Air Corps – an auxiliary force based in Nigeria, Gambia, Sierra Leone and Ghana.
The question as to why there was a sudden influx of volunteers after the lifting of the colour bar is one which can seem puzzling. After all, none of these individuals were conscripted or forced to go. In choosing to join the RAF they were exposing themselves to the horrors of war and putting their lives in peril. “We just knew deep down inside that we were all in this together and that what was taking place around our world had to be stopped,” explained volunteer navigator John Blair. “Few people think about what would have happened to them in Jamaica if Germany had defeated Britain, but we certainly could have returned to slavery.” Ulric Cross, a Trinidadian rail worker, expressed a similar motivation behind joining up: ‘“The world was drowning in fascism so I decided to do something about it and volunteered to fight in the RAF.”
Of the three armed forces, the RAF seems to have gained the respect of its volunteers far easier than the other services. Indeed, from contemporary sources it seems apparent that the higher echelons of the organisation took racism and discrimination against its members extremely seriously. A confidential memo from June of 1944 stated simply that: “All ranks should clearly understand that there is no colour bar in the Royal Air Force… any instance of discrimination on grounds of colour by white officers or airmen or any attitude of hostility towards personnel of noneuropean descent should be immediately and severely checked.”
However, not all were welcoming towards the new volunteers. “Few white British people had met a black person before and most were ignorant about the volunteers and their homelands,” explains Devitt.
“This ignorance, combined with the prejudice and insensitivity of individuals, sometimes caused misunderstandings and conflict between the volunteers and their new hosts.” Yet, as stated above, the RAF appeared to have a zero-tolerance policy regarding incidents of this nature and attempted to integrate the volunteers as much as possible. “The RAF sometimes managed to obtain Caribbean foodstuffs for the newcomers,” Devitt continues. “Social and sports facilities were also made available and, in the cricket season, the inclusion of West Indian players helped break down barriers and made RAF teams difficult to beat.” However, despite these attempts, an ingrained ‘othering’ towards the volunteers appeared to occur regularly. Navigator Cy Grant, from British Guiana, was standing outside an RAF building one day when a fellow officer approached and began chatting with him. After a while the officer expressed surprise that Grant’s English was as good as his own, causing Grant to note that for the first time he felt his own “foreignness”.
Grant was the subject of a particularly extraordinary series of circumstances when he was shot down over the Nazi-occupied Netherlands on 26 June 1943. Forced to bail out with the rest of the crew, they were captured and taken prisoner by a platoon of German soldiers. In a video interview with the Windrush Foundation, Grant recalled: “When I was shot down it caused a bit
of a stir, I don’t think there were many black airmen in those days and there certainly weren’t many black officers. I was in solitary confinement for a while, for five days. I was pulled out into the bright sunshine and a photograph was taken of me – I don’t know for what purpose.” For most of the war, Grant spent his time in what he described as relative luxury, with access to music and entertainment. However in 1945, as the conflict came to a close, he and his fellow prisoners were taken to a much larger holding camp. With very little food and warmth, conditions were dire. One night, Grant was sent with a selection of other prisoners to forage for food and had to attempt to catch a herd of cows. He and his fellow POWS were finally liberated when six tanks and 29 Russian mobilised units came crashing through the outer perimeter fence. Grant remembered the moment vividly: “We crowded around their tanks, cheering in joy, taken aback by the magnitude of the moment – feeling the barbarism of war oozing from their bodies, their eyes, their entire demeanour. Free at last! Some Russian prisoners who were strong enough clambered aboard the tanks and were soon heading towards Berlin.”
A more tragic story involved Warrant Officer Thomas William Johnson. “In October 2018 a journalist told me that a set of medals awarded to a black wartime air gunner was to be auctioned and kindly sent me the details,” says Devitt. “The airman in question was Warrant Officer Thomas William Johnson, the only son of Mr and Mrs Thomas W Johnson of Upper Parliament Street, Liverpool. Warrant Officer Johnson had never discussed why he received the Distinguished Flying Medal, and he’d left a letter for his mother telling her not to mourn if he failed to return. I did a little digging and found the citation for his award: ‘As rear
gunner, [this NCO] has inspired the most complete confidence in his crew. His vigilance and calmness on many occasions when followed by enemy night fighters have enabled his Captain to take the necessary action to avoid attack. His keenness and the thoroughness he has put into all his work have set a very high example to the Squadron. He is strongly recommended for the award of the Distinguished Flying Medal’.”
Johnson was only 18 when he joined the RAF, after the Merseyside Blitz in which some 4,000 people were killed. He himself would die aged 22 in a flying accident on 2 January
1945. Yet his brave and powerful story continues to resonate. “By strange coincidence, I was to talk about the RAF’S black personnel to Home Office staff in Liverpool on 3 January 2018,” says Devitt. “I incorporated the story of Warrant Officer Johnson into the paper I read and it was received with a mixture of sadness and pride by the people who heard it.”
Those who volunteered were not just pilots or aircrew, and the majority served as ground crew or staff. One such individual was Sam King, who passed away in 2017. Training as an engine fitter at RAF Locking, he worked repairing Spitfires throughout the war. This was vital work: aircraft were in short supply and it was integral that those that could be repaired were fixed swiftly and efficiently. Following this he would return briefly to the Caribbean before rejoining the RAF, arriving aboard the MV Empire Windrush in 1948. After a few more years in service, King then left the RAF and became active in civilian life, helping establish ‘pardner’ saving schemes in South London. These collective saving schemes helped Caribbean families and community groups save to buy their own houses. Later, he would become the first black mayor of Southwark.
It was not just men who volunteered, either. One such example was Lilian Bader, who joined as a member of the WAAF (Women’s Auxiliary Air Force). Born in Britain and believed to be of either Jamaican or Barbadian heritage, she was the first black woman to serve in the British armed forces. “With the outbreak of war she had worked briefly in a Navy, Army and Air Force Institutes (NAAFI) canteen,” explains Devitt, “but was told to leave because she was black.” As a member of the WAAF Bader chose to train as an instrument repairer. She was one of the first women to train in such a crucial job and after passing her course excelled in her role, eventually being promoted to acting corporal. Musing on her family’s contribution to the British military, Bader stated: “Father served in the First World War, his three children served in the Second World War. I married a coloured man who was in the Second World War… as was his brother, who was decorated for bravery in Burma. Their father also served in the First World War. Our son was a helicopter pilot, he served in Northern Ireland. So, all in all, I think we have given back more to this country than we have received.”
Even those who could not volunteer and remained home in the colonies such as Jamaica were committed to assisting the war effort in some way. “Just after Dunkirk, in 1940, the Jamaica Gleaner newspaper sent a telegram to Lord Beaverbrook, the new minister of aircraft production, asking him how much a bomber cost,” Devitt reveals. “A notional figure was given, and a cheque for the amount duly appeared shortly afterwards. Jamaican people, some of the most impoverished in the British Empire, (witness the findings of the Moyne Commission in 1945) paid for the aircraft and later paid for all of the bombers of 139 Squadron, which took the name ‘Jamaica’ from that point. Ulric Cross from Trinidad later served with the squadron.” Following this, so-called ‘Spitfire Funds’ gripped the UK as people flocked to contribute to the war effort in any way they could.
Yet, following the defeat of Germany and the end of the war, many people began to make it clear that these volunteers were no longer welcome. Speaking later, one Caribbean airman remembered an incident that had happened to him: “After I was demobbed in Nottingham a padre said to me: ‘When are you
going home?’ I was shocked. If a padre could say that, what must everyone else be thinking?” A Jamaican telephone operator expressed the situation in earnest: ‘“It was as if it was okay to be over here while there was an emergency, but in 1945 we weren’t wanted anymore.”
Despite the actions and attitudes of some British citizens, for those who volunteered with the RAF during the war it remained a matter of extreme pride. Indeed one volunteer, Errol Barrow, would lead a distinguished political career directly following the war. An incredibly skilled navigator, he served as personal navigator to Marshal Sir William Sholto Douglas, the man who would become commander in chief for the British air forces over occupied Germany. Following the war Barrow returned to Barbados and in 1955 formed the Democratic Labour Party, whose main aims were to press for social reform and an end to British colonial rule. He was made prime minister in 1961 and a mere five years later oversaw the granting of independence. He also worked to make Barbados an island with greater self-reliance, building tourism, industry and commerce. As a result he lessened dependency on the United States and instead created stronger ties with other English-speaking Caribbean nations. He served until 1976, returning to office again in 1986 but sadly passed away a year later. Yet despite all these achievements, his gravestone reads: ‘In memory of Flying Officer Errol Walton Barrow, Navigator, Royal Air Force, World War Two and Prime Minister of Barbados’. Despite talking little about his contribution to the war and leaving no memoirs covering the period 1940-1947, Barrow was evidently proud of his time as a navigator. His son, David Barrow, stated that his father had proudly kept his RAF sextant after the war.
Now, the legacy of these incredibly brave men and women is being celebrated and rediscovered by an entirely new generation. The RAF Museum has an exhibition celebrating the many contributions of the black African and Caribbean volunteers to the war effort. “For many members of the African diaspora, the history of the RAF had previously been a closed-off area of white endeavour and achievement that was irrelevant to their lives,” explains Devitt. “Thankfully, this is no longer the case and we have witnessed large numbers of visitors, both black and white, engaging with a story that embraces heroism, comradeship, glamour and success. The exhibition has made a lot of people proud and happy and it has provided valuable role models for younger people.”