Flying the Supermarine Walrus

After flying Hawker Hurricanes and Supermarine Spitfires in 1942, I was posted to 276 Squadron, an Air Sea Rescue (ASR) unit at Warmwell in Dorset. During this time, I was to fly all the Squadron’s aircraft: the Defiant, Spitfire, Lysander, Anson and Tiger Moth. However, following an operational search in April 1943, where I ended up 'in the drink' myself, I suddenly became a Spitfire pilot learning to fly the Walrus Mk I.

Loading a dinghy into a 276 Sqn Spitfire IIC

Walrus Mark I at Warmwell

276 Sqn Walrus in the Channel

276 Sqn at Harrowbeer

From Woodfield Publishing

Flying the Walrus for the first time, I found myself in an aircraft which seemed to fly through the air sideways as well as forwards; however, after a few flights, often on the same day that I flew the Defiant or Spitfire, I became very fond of the old ‘Shagbat’ - as she was more often referred to on the squadron.

The land taxi and take-off were both noisy and rumbling, with a take-off speed of 60 mph, and a cruise of about 120 mph. Once airborne, the wheels were pumped up by hand, which took about 2 minutes - if you were fit. After my first rumbling land take-off, I had a shot at landing it on the water in Poole Harbour, and fortunately, I remembered to keep the wheels up, as forgetting to do this invariably resulted in a pretty disastrous landing.

The approach for a calm water landing was easy enough – throttle off, tail well down, and then drop it in the “oggin” at about 60 mph, and when down, she was easy enough to manoeuvre using throttle and rudder. Calm water take-offs were also fairly easy: control column right back to keep the nose up, and hard over right to keep the port float out of the water, where due to a slightly offset Pegasus engine, it invariably rested. However, on a very calm sea, the control column often had to be rocked backwards and forwards to get the aircraft bouncing, before she would unstick.

When the calm stuff was mastered, rougher seas had to be tackled. This was not so easy, as the old girl had to be dropped into a landing right on top of the swell; if the pilot missed, and hit the following trough, the next swell could literally hurl the aircraft back into the air, but this time with no flying speed, and in a deep stall; the bigger the wave top, the higher the hurl, and the resulting landing was both wet and interesting! The Walrus, however, was a tough old bird, and could take a lot of punishment; in the main, landings were made without too much damage, although pilots were sometimes forced to taxi for many miles to the nearest land. I did this myself on two occasions during my 300-odd Walrus hours, but this was due to sea conditions, and not damage.

The rough water take-off could also be pretty exciting, as the aircraft could either bury its nose into a deep roller, or leap temporarily into the air off a big one, and the resulting bounce would either hurl the aircraft again skyward, or back into the next bit of sea - either into a trough, or on top of the swell, depending on whether you had just enough flying speed. To say the least, Shagbat pilots’ reactions had to be a bit fast, and exercised with fairly fine judgement.

The Walrus experience was the most exciting and challenging time of my flying career, because I had to fight two elements: the air and the sea. If a pilot was in the sea, you were going to get the Walrus down somehow, to get him out. You worried about getting off again afterwards. In one way or another, the Walrus played a part of saving over 1300 lives, and believe me; it was even more exciting than flying the Spitfire!