Jeffrey Sammut recounts how Sgt Fred Robertson ended up serving in Malta following a bumpy landing on August 2, 1940

On the deck of the small training aircraft carrier HMS Argus, 14 pilots waited nervously in the cockpits of 12 Hawker Hurricanes and two Blackburn Skuas. Their mission for that day, August 2, 1940, was to ferry the 12 fighter aircraft to reinforce the island of Malta.

Sgt Fred Robertson was only 25 when he was killed in an air collision with an American B17 bomber. Photo: http://www.bbm.org.uk

Operation Hurry was to be the first operation of such type ­– it would eventually be followed by another 17.

Originally, the Skuas, which were to act as navigational aircraft for the Hurricanes, were to be flown by two fleet air arm pilots but when it was found that none of them had sufficient experience to take off from an aircraft carrier, two spare Hurricane pilots who were aboard the aircraft carrier took their place.

The first Skua, which, being at the front, had to make the shortest take-off run of all, sped off the deck and disappeared below HMS Argus’s bows. The second aircraft, a Hurricane, took off, without knowing the fate of the leading Skua and its crew. The fighter aircraft, with its powerful Merlin engine, had little difficulty in gaining flight.

Soon, the other 12 aircraft were in the air, being led towards the island in flights of six by the two Skuas. The first Skua, by some miracle, made it, skimming the waves until it built enough speed to be able to gain some altitude.

The pilots’ worries were not over. It was a 380-mile journey over the Mediterranean. They listened tensely for any change in the rhythm of their engines. Engine failure en route to Malta would have meant a ditching in the sea and, if they survived the crash, a long wait for a Short Sunderland flying boat, which would, hopefully, find them and pick them up.

On December 18, 1940, Robertson claimed a Savoia Marchetti SM 79, shot down in flames in the sea two miles off Kalafrana Bay while flying a Hurricane P3731. Photo: www.asisbiz.com

However, all 14 aircraft made it safely to Malta. But it was there that their troubles started.

Flying officer Bradbury, who was flying a Skua, landed heavily on one wheel and skidded straight into an air raid shelter near the Luqa control tower. Bradbury and his navigator were unhurt.

Sergeant Fred Robertson, flying Hurricane N2700, together with two other sergeant pilots, decided to beat up Luqa airfield to celebrate their arrival on the island after the two-hour, 20-minute flight. After zooming at low level over the airfield and then indulging in some aerobatics, Robertson made his final approach to land. And disaster struck.

The Hurricane’s engine, starved of fuel, spluttered and died, the aircraft flicked on its back and plunged into some fields at Kirkop, going through three rubble walls before coming to a stop.

Aircraft plunged into some fields in Kirkop, going through three rubble walls before coming to a stop

Robertson is buried in Cambridge City Cemetery. Photo: http://www.bbm.org.uk

Those who saw the crash thought they had witnessed the demise of Robertson but, incredibly enough, he made it out of the wreckage alive, suffering only from slight concussion. On his logbook, he laconically noted that he “crashed just prior to landing owing to a faulty petrol gauge”.

The ferry pilots got the shock of their lives when they were told they were to stay on the island and help in its defence. Malta was short of fighter pilots and, despite their protests, every one of them was needed.

After a shaky start, Sgt Robertson was to have an illustrious career on the island. Some of his combat reports bear witness to this.

On September 25, 1940, he was unable to keep in formation with other aircraft scrambled to intercept an enemy air raid due to high engine temperature.

Robertson after being awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal, reported on March 18, 1941. Photo: Anthony Rogers

“I was climbing alone over S. side of the island when I saw a formation of machines proceeding towards Ħal Far... I had to get close but lost them in the haze and then saw two machines flying out to sea from the Grand Harbour. Thinking they were Hurricanes, I was about 50 yards astern about to go into formation when I realised they were enemy A/C. I immediately fired a burst of 50 rounds per gun into the leader after which he turned over and dived down.”

Robertson believed the Macchi 200 crashed into the sea.

On November 28, he claimed a probable Savoia Marchetti SM 79 bomber.

“I sprayed the whole formation at first and then concentrated my fire on the left-hand rear machine, firing all my ammunition into him. I finished the attack at about 25 yds range and had to break away upward not stopping to see the result as the CR 42s were peeling off my tail.”

His claim was later confirmed when two of the Italian bomber crew were picked up.

A combat report compiled by Robertson for March 5, 1941. Photo: Anthony Rogers

On March 23, 1941, a bullet from a Junkers Ju 87’s rear gun penetrated his port petrol tank, which then caught fire. Robertson bailed out from the blazing aircraft, noting in his logbook that he “smoked ¼ of a Flag cigarette while coming down by parachute!” He claimed two Junkers Ju 87s shot down during this engagement. His Hurricane crashed near the Rabat-Dingli road.

Robertson received a well-deserved rest at the end of April 1941 and returned to the UK via Cairo.

After spending some time training fledging pilots, he was commissioned and posted first to 219 Squadron, then to 153 Squadron and, finally, to 96 Squadron. On August 31, 1943, Flying Officer Robertson was flying Beaufighter Mk VI V8715 when it collided with a B-17 of the USAAF and crashed near Church Farm, Foulsham, Norfolk. He and his observer, together with nine of the 11 men aboard the American bomber, lost their lives.

More information about Robertson can be found in Fighters Over Malta by Brian Cull and Frederick Galea and Air Battle of Malta by Anthony Rogers.

Acknowledgments

The author wishes to thank Anthony Rogers, Ezechiel Busuttil, Ruben Vella, the staff of the National Archives and the Malta Aviation Museum without whose assistance this article would not have been possible.