Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

The Property of Squadron Leader N. F. Duke, D.S.O., O.B.E., D.F.C., A.F.C.

The historic archive, career memorabilia and Second World War fighter ace’s D.S.O., D.F.C. and 2 Bars, Czech M.C., post-war test pilot’s O.B.E., A.F.C., Queen’s Commendation group of twelve awarded to Squadron Leader Neville Duke, late Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve and Royal Air Force, the famous record-breaking Chief Test Pilot at Hawkers: his wartime score of 27 confirmed victories and two shared placed him equal to the likes of “Ginger” Lacey and “Bob” Stanford Tuck - and second only to “Johnnie” Johnson

The Honours and Awards:

Distinguished Service Order, G.VI.R., 1st issue, the reverse of the suspension bar officially dated ‘1943’; The Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, O.B.E. (Civil) Officer’s 2nd type breast badge; Distinguished Flying Cross, G.VI.R., with Second and Third Awards Bars, the reverse of the Cross officially dated ‘1942’, the Second Award Bar ‘1943’ and the Third Award Bar ‘1944’; Air Force Cross, G.VI.R., the reverse officially dated ‘1948’; 1939-45 Star; Air Crew Europe Star; Africa Star, clasp, North Africa 1942-43; Italy Star; Defence and War Medals; Queen’s Commendation for Valuable Services in the Air, silver badge, hallmarks for Birmingham 1954; Czech Military Cross, mounted as worn, good very fine or better (12)

The Duke Archive:

(a) The warrant for Duke’s D.S.O., dated 9 April 1943, and signed by the King and Archibald Sinclair, framed and glazed.

(b) The warrant for Duke’s O.B.E., dated 1 January 1953, and signed by the Queen and Queen Mary, framed and glazed.

(c) The certificate for Duke’s Commendation for Valuable Services in the Air, dated 27 September 1955, in the name of ‘Neville Frederick Duke, D.S.O., O.B.E., D.F.C., A.F.C., Chief Test Pilot, Hawker Aircraft Ltd.’, framed and glazed; together with related investiture letter from the Minister of Supply, dated 25 November 1955.

(d) The bestowal document for Duke’s award of the Czech Military Cross, dated 1946 (‘No. 32. 119’), framed and glazed.

(e) Duke’s flying log books covering the continuous period August 1940 to November 1995, commencing with a privately bound volume containing his first four flying log books, gilt spine title ‘Pilot’s Flying Log Book - Neville F. Duke - Vol. 1’, and with privately printed Record of Service (Appointments, aircraft types flown, airfields flown from, victories, etc.), the entries incorporating continuous acitivity from his first flight in a Tiger Moth on 20 Augsut 1940 through to his last flight in the R.A.F. on 21 June 1948, the operational entries for the U.K., North Africa and Italy often of an unusually detailed nature, and with frequent inserts, some pasted-down, including newspaper and magazine cuttings, photographs and the telegram reporting him “Missing” after he was shot down on 5 December 1941; ‘Volume II’ of an identical format with similar gilt spine inscription, and containing another four flying log books, commencing with his first flight for Hawkers on 19 July 1948 and ending with a flight for Aircraft Services on 20 March 1958, and consequently comprising a highly important record of his test pilot work, not least on the Hunter programme (and, of course, his assorted record flights), together with several inserts, some pasted-down, including deck-landing training assessment certificate, dated 5 February 1949 (‘Very safe and accurate’) and Royal Aero Club letter regarding 100 kilometre closed circuit course record, dated 19 September 1953, and a quantity of wartime carbon copy, or handwritten copies, of his numerous combat reports, these contained in rear cover pocket; four R.A.F. Form 414 flying log books, covering the periods April 1958 to September 1961, September 1961 to July 1963, July 1963 to March 1965 and March 1965 to May 1967, and largely therefore flights in Dove aircraft while employed by the Dowty Group; and three further R.A.F. Form 414 flying log books, of larger format, covering the periods May 1967 to October 1973, November 1973 to November 1981 and March 1982 to November 1995, the latter including Duke’s 30th anniversary World Air Speed Record commemorative flight in a Hunter in September 1983, and his extensive test pilot work on the Optica observation aircraft programme [Duke’s latest flying log book runs from September 1995 to the present day - and will pass into the ownership of the purchaser when complete].

(f) Duke’s wartime diaries 1941-45, as used for the published version, edited by Norman Franks (Grub Street, 1995), and extracts from which appear in the following career summary, comprising Volume 1, T. J. & J. Smith’s Datada Diary 1941, the outside cover ink inscribed, ‘P./O. N. F. Duke, R.A.F.V.R., No. 92 (East India) Squadron / No. 112 (Shark) Fighter Squadron’, and ‘Very private and personal’; Volume II, The Scribe Diary for 1942; Volume III, Romney Diary for 1943; and Volume IV, Romney Diary for 1944, all handwritten entries in ink or pencil: a remarkably detailed, perceptive and frank record of a young fighter pilot’s war, and, of course an equally important record of the activities of 92, 112 and 145 Squadrons.

(g) Duke’s wartime photograph albums, comprising two 21pp. decorated leather albums, the first covering his period with No. 112 Squadron, November 1941 to April 1942, through to joining 92 Squadron again in November 1942, with an exceptional array of approximately 225 images, the vast majority of the “frontline” variety, with aircrew and aircraft, many captioned; and the second directly continuing from the first, with his recent arrival back at 92 Squadron in late 1942, through to and including his third and final operational tour with No. 145 Squadron in Italy, once more with an exceptional array of well over 200 “frontline” images of pilots and aircraft, many of them captioned; and a third card-bound album with a mixture of subject matter, the earliest pre-war scenes but also including a number of interesting images from Duke’s early days in 92 Squadron at Biggin Hill, and beyond, to the post-war test pilot era: a very important photographic archive indeed, not least in respect of capturing the Desert Air Force at work 1941-43

(h) A further selection of wartime photographs (approximately 250), subject matter ranging from pilot training days in 1940 right through to the Italian campaign 1944, with many excellent images of Duke’s time with 92 Squadron and 112 Squadron in between; together with post-war career photographs (approximately 30), comprising images while C.O. of 615 Squadron, Royal Auxiliary Air Force 1950-51, including a visit by Churchill, and others from air shows in the early 1950s, including some good scenes from the Kemsley Trophy meeting.

(i) Three career scrap-albums as meticulously kept by Duke’s mother, the earliest, 40 pp., with extensive newspaper reports and cuttings for the period 1942-51, covering his rise to fame as a successful fighter ace through to his early flight records to Karachi and Pakistan, and appointment as Chief Test Pilot at Hawkers, and also including wartime “Message Forms” from relevant A.O.Cs congratulating him on the award of his D.F.C., Bar to D.F.C., D.S.O. and Second Bar to D.F.C.; the second album, 33 pp., covering the period 1951-53, similarly adorned with a mass of newspaper and magazine features, the whole reflecting Duke’s rise to wider fame in the golden age of “breaking the sound barrier”, and also including a telegram from Winston Churchill, dated 24 October 1951 (‘Thank you both so much’), sent following a visit to 615 Squadron, Royal Auxiliary Air Force, which Duke commanded for a year; and the last, 70pp., largely representative of his record flight in September 1953, but actually continuing with similar newspaper and magazine coverage up to 1960, and including further telegrams from Winston Churchill, dated 2 September 1953 (‘My congratulations on your achievement’), and 20 September 1953 (‘Many congratulations’), together with a charmingly addressed enevelope from a young fan, ‘Mr. Neville Duke, High Speed Ace, “Sound Barrier” ’, one corner inscribed, ‘Please would you forward’: a genuinely fascinating record reflecting the scale of press coverage afforded Duke’s extraordinary career.

(j) An interesting selection of career letters, including correspondence between the Headmaster of Judd’s School, Tonbridge, and Duke’s father, 1941-43 (‘He is a remarkable example of a fellow who knew what he wanted and by sheer guts and determination achieved it. The School is thrilled by his exploits’ - letter dated 18 March 1942, refers); letters of a similar nature from Duke’s pre-war employer at Neve & Son, Valuers and Auctioneers, dated 27 March 1942 (‘What an amazing difference you must find life nowadays after the hum-drum routine of an Estate Agents’ office!’), and a long lost cousin from Australia, dated 4 June 1942 (‘May you be spared to do many more heroic deeds ... ’); letter to Duke from Group Captain R. “Batchy” Atcherley, dated 9 March 1943, informing him that he had recommended him for an immediate D.S.O. (see below for full text), and Duke’s copy of his reply (‘It would appear that the honour you have accorded me is far beyond what I deserve ... ’); carbon copy of a letter sent to the Chairman of Hawkers from Clarence Huuse, regarding a visit by Princess Margaret, dated 6 July 1954 (‘Perhaps I might take this opportunity of telling you also how deeply impressed H.R.H. was by the magnificent demonstration of flying which Mr. Duke so kindly gave ... It was an incredible demonstration of the speed and versatility of the Hunter’); and Hawkers’ letter of retirement, dated 26 October 1956 (‘Our minds will always associate the Hunter and its developments with you, and we are convinced that the great success of this aeroplane is in no small way due to the splendid development guidance you have been able to give. Your masterpieces of flight reporting have set a standard which we can never expect to see excelled ...’).

(k) Documentation and photographs appertaining to Duke’s time with the R.A.F. High Speed Flight 1946, comprising his letter of appointment, marked “top secret” and dated 31 May 1946 (‘The actual [World Speed Record] trials will probably take place during the latter part of July, in the meantime, I suggest you get two or three flights a week in on Meteors ...’), together with old typed ‘Diary of Flights carried out by F./L. Duke on the Meteor IV E.E. 529’, 8pp., Ministry of Supply guidelines for the record attempt, and a fine selection of related photographs (approximately 20).

(l) Royal Aero Club of the United Kingdom certificate to mark Duke’s record flight from London to Karachi 12 May 1949, under the competition rules of the Federation Aeronautique Internationale, signed by the Club’s President and Secretary General, framed and glazed; together with a fine selection of related photographs, many with Duke in the cockpit of his Sea Fury (approximately 30).

(m) Royal Aero Club of the United Kingdom certificate to mark Duke’s record flight from London to Cairo 16 February 1950, under the competition rules of the Federation Aeronautique Internationale, and another similar, under the competition rules of the Royal Aero Club, both signed by the Club’s President and Secretary General, the latter framed and glazed; together with two albums of related newspaper cuttings assembled by Durrant’s Press Cutting Agency, another fine selection of related photographs (approximately 25), and a typed account of the flight, 12pp., signed by Duke.

(n) A fine array of Hawker Hunter jet documentation and photographs, comprising journals, articles and copies of Duke’s early flight reports, through to extensive memorabilia from the 21st, 25th and 30th anniversary meetings to mark the aircraft’s first flight, the related photographic archive (approximately 150 images) with special files dedicated to that first flight and WB 188’s record achievements in September 1953.

(o) An interesting quantity of post-war correspondence, much of it appertaining to the fate of some of Duke’s Luftwaffe victims, and Otto Schulz, and including a letter of invitation to attend a Luftwaffe Reunion near Munich, dated 15 August 1967 (‘Unfortunately, it was our fate to have been opponents, but I confess most earnestly that we have always felt the greatest respect for British airmen ... ’).

Associated Career Memorabilia:

(a) The parachute rip-cord ring from Duke’s bale-out over Lake Bracciano on 7 June 1944 - ‘When I jerked the ring the parachute opened quickly, so quickly in fact, as I was moving rather fast, that one of the shoulder straps broke or came undone, causing me to fall half-out of the harness. I managed to pull myself back into it, still clutching the parachute ring ... as a memento I still had my parachute ring ... and the mild distinction of being one of few pilots to bale out and land in fresh water during the war‘ (Test Pilot refers).

(b) Caterpillar Club membership badge, gold, with “ruby” eyes, the reverse officially inscribed, ‘S./Ldr. N. F. Duke, D.S.O., D.F.C.’; together with related membership card.

(c) The U.S. Air Force “Dome” flying helmet worn by Duke in his record flight in WB 188 in September 1953, updated and restored, but with later (damaged) green visor (Presented to Duke by the Air Attache at the U.S. Embassy soon after “Wimpy” Wade’s death, and known affectionately by him and his Hawkers’ engineer as “The Great White Helmet”); together with a pair of white flying overalls and gloves, the former possibly those worn by Duke in this record flight.

(d) The test-pad and stop-watch from Duke’s record flight in WB 188 in September 1953, the latter engraved on its outer case, ‘Presented by Hawker Aircraft Ltd. to Neville Duke Who Used This Watch During Extensive Test Flying of the Hunter, October 31st 1956’, in felt-lined fitted wooden box - ‘I write the climb speed figures and other relevant points on my test pad, checking its stop-watch and seeing that it is working properly ... the Hunter climbs so fast that you don’t have time to correct mistakes once you have begun to go up ... it would be infuriating to find that you have used up all the notepaper while still having many points to jot down’ (Test Pilot refers).

(e) Hunter record flight presentation gold cufflinks, the outer links with engraved Hunter jet motif and the inner links representative of Armstrong-Siddeley’s “Sapphire” engine, the tips of these accordingly set with “sapphires”. £120,000-150,000

D.S.O. London Gazette 9 April 1943. The original 92 Squadron recommendation states:

‘In the absence of his Commanding Officer during the strenuous operations of the week ending 7 March 1943, Flight Lieutenant Duke not only led the Squadron and his flight on most of the sorties carried out but has inspired his fellow pilots by his determination, courage and skill. Apart from his previous splendid record he has since 1 March 1943 destroyed 7 enemy aircraft as shown below. Further his coolness and courageous leadership has inspired the other pilots who have rallied behind him with other successes. Many of his flights have been against superior numbers and all have ended in decisive victories. His score previous to 1 March 1943 was 12 destroyed, since when he has 2 destroyed (1 March); 1 destroyed (3 March); 2 destroyed (4 March); 2 destroyed (7 March): total 19 destroyed.’

O.B.E. London Gazette 1 January 1953.

D.F.C. London Gazette 17 March 1942. The original 112 Squadron recommendation states:

‘On 14 February 1942, Pilot Officer Duke was the leader of a section of a wing formation when he sighted 35 enemy aircraft. He informed the Wing Leader and placed his section in position to attack. In the ensuing combat 11 enemy aircraft were destroyed by the Squadron, 2 being destroyed by Pilot Officer Duke. This officer’s leadership materially contributed to the success achieved. He has destroyed 8 enemy aircraft and probably destroyed and damaged a further 6.’

Bar to D.F.C. London Gazette 23 February 1943. The original 92 Squadron recommendation states:

‘During the afternoon of 11 January 1943, this officer, while leading a flight, displayed considerable skill and determination in attacking a large force of enemy fighters over Buerat, with deliberation, coolness and complete disregard for his own personal safety. He maintained combat with the enemy destroying 2 Macchi 202s and continued to fight with determination until his ammunition ran out and the enemy were diving for home. Flying Officer Duke received the D.F.C. in March 1942. He then had 8 enemy aircraft destroyed and several damaged to his credit. Since joining this squadron two months ago he has now increased his score to 11 destroyed, 4 probably destroyed and 3 damaged. During this period he has led both section and flight with distinction at all times, has shown real determination and judgment and courage, and has set a very high standard to other pilots, which has reflected itself on the achievements of this squadron in the fairly extensive operations of the last few days.’

Second Bar to D.F.C. London Gazette 23 June 1944. The original 145 Squadron recommendation states:

‘This outstanding fighter pilot, when leading his squadron in recent operations over Anzio, by his brilliant leadership enabled his squadron, on four successive sorties, to destroy 16 enemy aircraft, probably destroy 2, and damage 8, for the loss of only one of his pilots. 8 of these were destroyed on one sortie. Squadron Leader Duke destroyed 4 of these enemy aircraft himself, making his total personal score 26 destroyed, 3 probables and 4 damaged. Since assuming command of his squadron in March of this year [1944], it has destroyed 23 enemy aircraft, probably destroyed 3 and damaged 9, all for the loss of the one pilot. This success has undoubtedly been largely due to the outstanding qualities of leadership, skill and determination of the Squadron Commander. Squadron Leader Duke is now half way through his third tour of operations, having completed 565 operational hours. These have been flown in the United Kingdom, the Desert and Italy. The immediate award of a second Bar to his D.F.C. is very strongly recommended.’

A.F.C. London Gazette 10 June 1948.

Queen’s Commendation for Valuable Services in the Air London Gazette 27 September 1955.

Czech Military Cross London Gazette 27 June 1947.


Neville Frederick Duke was born in Tonbridge, Kent in January 1922, where he attended Judd’s School. An enthusiast for all things aeronautical from an early age, he first got airborne as a young boy, when, for the princely sum of 5 shillings, he experienced an enthralling joyride in the back of an ancient Avro 504K. From that moment the die was cast, and most of his pocket money was invested in similar flights, more often than not in aircraft from Sir Alan Cobham’s celebrated flying circus, but some of it, too, in model aircraft for his “bedroom aerodrome”. He was also a regular airshow spectator, never missing Empire Air Days at Biggin Hill.

On leaving Judd’s School in the summer of 1939, Duke learned that the Royal Navy had a special entry scheme for boys of his age to train for the Fleet Air Arm and duly reported himself before a board of Admirals. Returning home with high hopes of a successful interview, his spirits were dashed when on the outbreak of hostilities the scheme was abandoned. He now turned to the Royal Air Force and in June 1940 he received a communication from the Air Ministry to report to Uxbridge to attend a selection board for potential pilots. He was duly selected in the rank of Aircraftsman 2nd Class, Pilot, U./T. (under training), and set forth from Tonbridge railway station to take up his new appointment, his sister waving him off from the platform, but not before the ticket office clerk had told her, “I hope he learns to fly better than he can play cricket.”

On 20 August 1940, with the Battle of Britain at its height, Duke made his first entry in his flying log book, a flight with his instructor in a Tiger Moth at No. 13 Elementary Flying Training School at White Waltham. Barely two weeks later, he went solo: ‘It was exhilarating. Two days later I flew seven times between dawn and dusk, four times solo. This was the life all right’. Moving on to the Flying Training School at Tern Hill, where he avoided an early demise by navigating his way out of some barrage balloons in thick cloud one day, Duke was presented with his “Wings” and commissioned as Pilot Officer in February 1941. Attendance at No. 58 Operational Training Unit followed, and by the time he was posted to 92 Squadron at Biggin Hill that April, he had notched up 26 hours and 10 minutes in the Spitfire Mk. 1.

Biggin Hill: 92 Squadron, April - November 1941

Receiving a warm and friendly reception from 92’s pilots, among them Squadron C.O., Jamie Rankin, Brian Kingcome (who would later write the recommendation for Duke’s third D.F.C.), Don Kingaby and “Tich” Havercroft, and many other well-known names to emerge from the Battle of Britain, Duke passed his first evening at The White Hart at Brasted, a frequent haunt for the residents of R.A.F. Biggin Hill. Seven days later he took-off in a Spitfire V on his very first operational sortie, a scramble to patrol Dungeness. He was barely 19 years old.

Between then and November 1941, he flew around another 85 sorties, many of them “Rhubarb” or “Circus” operations over the Channel to occupied France, sometimes flying as wingman to “Sailor” Malan, a period that witnessed him claim two confirmed victories and others damaged - all 109s. Keeping up with “Sailor” Malan was no easy matter:

‘Though Sailor flew steadily while he was leading the Wing, it was a different thing once the usual whirl of dog-fighting began. More than once I was so preoccupied with keeping on his tail and with looking around and behind for 109s that I did not know that he was on the tail of a Jerry himself. Once I suddenly found myself flying through bits of a 109 before I even realized that he had fired his guns and once he showered me with spent cartridge cases and links, which was awkward, for they were known to crack hoods, pierce elevators and damage airscrews ... with Sailor especially, it was full throttle work most of the time. From men such as these I soon learned to weave and to search the sky continuously, never relaxing until we had landed.’

Duke’s first confirmed victory was achieved during a “Circus” to St. Omer on 25 June, his diary entry for that date stating:

‘ ... Allan and self dived down on two 109s over St. Omer - couldn’t catch them - going at a phenomenal airspeed. 109s pulled up vertically - blacked out and broke away just avoiding stalling. Saw Allan and 109 diving with glycol coming from the 109. I was attacked by two 109s from astern but saw them just in time and did a terrific turn, seeing tracer whistle past behind. Came over Dunkirk and passed two 109s on way. Turned and saw dog-fight going on near Dunkirk so went back and joined in. Sat on the tail of a 109 which was shooting at another Spit. Fired several bursts of cannon and machine-gun into him from about 50 yards range. Glycol streamed out and he started going down. Got just above him and looked down into his cockpit. Pilot was crouched over the stick and did not look up. Think perhaps I hit him. The 109 went down and crashed a few miles inland. Sped home at terrific bat. Bad A.A. fire from a convoy which I came out over at 1000 feet and also from Dunkirk. Engine stopped just as I touched down on ‘drome for lack of petrol!’

His second confirmed 109 was claimed over the Boulogne area on the 9 August, a day or two after he had recorded in his diary that he was getting a ‘little tired of Circuses - am always getting shot at without a chance of shooting back’. His combat report for the 9th states:

‘Attacked from astern by two Me. 109Fs at 2000 feet over Boulogne. I saw the first one approaching to the attack and turned to the left until he was on the opposite side of the circle. I then immediately turned to the right as hard as I could. He went past me on the starboard beam and I gave him a burst from astern at 200 to 300 yards range. At this moment I saw tracer pass over my cockpit and another 109 passed me on the right. I gave him a long burst with some deflection from 50 yards rapidly increasing. The 109 went down on its back and did a slow spin in this position into the cloud which was about 800 feet. I did not see it crash into the sea but do not consider it could have pulled out. I was shortly afterwards jumped by another two 109s just above the cloud. I ducked into the cloud hoping they would give up the chase but when breaking cloud, the 109s were still there and chased me down to sea level and to within 2 or 3 miles of Dover. Their spinners appeared to be painted black and white. Tracer ammunition would have been a great asset as my reflector sight was u./s. I suggest tracer be used in the future.’

Meanwhile, having moved to Gravesend, 92’s casualites mounted, Duke noting in his diary on 3 October that the Squadron had just lost five pilots in two days, and a little later, ‘I am now the oldest member except Sergeant Kingaby and the Squadron cannot be compared with the 92 I joined in April. Luckily, however, windows for some “R. & R.” were to be found in London from time to time:

‘Released for the day [7 October 1941]. Went up to town in the C.O’s car with Hunk and Babe Whitmore. Called on Burberry’s, visited the “Crackers” and saw usual females. Had tea at the Trocadero and then saw Man Hunt [film]. Went along to the Ritz “Rivoli” Bar and a had a few snifters. Beetled into the “Berkeley” for dinner and then staggered along to Hatchett’s for a night-cap.’

In late October, after another Squadron move to Digby, Duke received orders to prepare to go overseas to join a new unit.

North Africa: 112 Squadron, November 1941 - March 1942:

Arriving at Air H.Q., Sidi Hannish, on 11 November 1941 - ‘Not very impressed with the desert at all. Parked myself in a tent for the night’ - Duke learned that he was to join 112 Squadron, a Tomahawk unit. Picked-up from there by his new C.O., who was ‘tight as an owl’, he crashed on landing after his very first flight in a Tomahawk 24 hours later - Duke was very unhappy indeed, the sudden change from Spitfires and Biggin Hill to Tomahawks in the desert proving difficult in the extreme - ‘We usually slept fully clothed on the bare sand, covering ourselves with blankets and flying kit. During a battle period it was quite normal not to shave or to wash for days on end, partly due to the shortage of water.’ Nonetheless, Duke would quickly return to form, when, having completed his first sortie in one of the Squadron’s famous ‘shark-mouthed’ Tomahawks on the 16th (a reconnaissance over Sidi Barrani - Mersa - Matruh), he went on to achieve spectacular success in another 65 highly hazardous operational sweeps and escorts prior to being “rested” in April 1942.

Having taken a third-share in an Italian CR42 over Tobruk on the 21 November, Duke gained his first confirmed desert victory, a 109 piloted by Ofhr. Waskott of I/JG 27 on the 22nd, his diary noting:

‘Squadron went ground strafing along the El-Adem-Acroma road. Whizzing along at telephone-wire height - some fun. Wing Sweep in the afternoon. Engaged by 15-20 Me. 109Fs. I got on the tail of one and followed him up. Got in a burst from stern quarter and its hood and pieces of fuselage disintegrated. Machine went into a vertical dive and the pilot baled out. Flew round and round the pilot until he landed, then went down to look at him. I waved to him and he waved back. Poor devil thought I was going to strafe him as he initially dived behind a bush and lay flat ... ’

However, on the 30th, during a sweep over the El Gobi area, Duke was himself shot down, but not before getting a confirmed Italian G50 - ‘after pumping tons of lead into him’ (Sergeant Magglioli Girolamo Monaldi of 378 Squadrglia killed) - and damaging a 109. Of his own encounter with enemy fire - delivered by German ace Otto Schulz of JG/27 - he wrote:

‘ ... Ran for home and was chased by a 109F; dodged 4-5 attacks and got a few shots at him but he was too fast. Finally he hit me in the port wing and, I think, the petrol tank. Machine turned on its back at about 500 feet, out of control. Saw the ground rushing up and then kicked the rudder and pushed the stick and prayed. Got control just in time and the machine hit the ground on its belly. Hopped out jolly quick and then darted behind some scrub and lay on my belly about 20 yards from the crash. The Hun came down and shot-up my machine, which was already smoking and set on fire. Horrible crack and whistle of bullets near me and I thought I was going to be strafed but the Hun cleared off. Started off to walk across the desert home but saw a lorry coming my way. Lay down behind another bush thinking they were Huns but as they went past I recognised the uniforms and popped up and gave them a yell ... Feel very lucky to be alive and a bit browned off with the war!’

On 4 December, after a protracted dogfight and chase, Duke brought down a Macchi 200 at ‘nought feet over Tobruk’, got a probable Ju. 87 and damaged another. Back in action on the following day, however, he was brought down for a second time:

‘Oh dear, shot down again. Met the Hun Circus again and all the types piled in and got 10 down. I stayed up to stave the 109s off but got hit in the right elevator which was carried away, and in the starboard wing where all the trailing edge up to the aileron was shot off. Spun down from 10,000 feet to about 2-3000. Undid the straps, etc., preparatory to baling out, but it seemed to fly O.K. Made north for Tobruk at ground level. Crash-landed at 150 m.p.h. as I could not keep nose up at slow speed; got thrown about the cockpit, and found I’d been hit in the right leg by cannon shell splinters. Hopped out pretty quick. Pinched the compass and clock from the machine as spoils of war! The chaps were pretty surprised to see me again at Tobruk. I was whisked off to the hospital and X-rayed but the wounds were not very bad. Lucky enough to get a lift back in a Blenheim same evening. Shot down twice within five days - so flying down to Cairo for a few days’ leave.’

On 22 December, during attack on the enemy’s aerodrome at Magrun, near Soluch, Duke and his fellow pilots were able to engage 109s and Ju. 87s as they took-off, the former adding a 109 confirmed to his tally, piloted by up and coming ace Feldwebel Erich Wassermann- ‘flew across the aerodrome at 100 feet after it. Chased it for quite a while and it finally crashed’. Duke also claimed a Ju. 52/3m probable and shared in a Ju. 87.

In January 1942, under the leadership of a new C.O., the Australian C. R. “Killer” Caldwell, the Squadron converted to Kittyhawks, Duke making his first operational sortie in this type on the 9th, while escorting some Marylands - ‘attacked on the way back by a 109F. Got three bursts at him but no result.’ In the following month, however, on the 14th, he added a confirmed Macchi 200 to his score and a half-share in another. He was awarded the D.F.C.

North Africa: 92 Squadron, November 1942 - May 1943

Posted as an instructor to the Fighter School at El Ballal in the Canal Zone later that month, Duke soon found himself itching to get back to frontline duties, and, as luck would have it, heard of the arrival of his old squadron, No. 92, in the desert. He immediately set about engineering his return to operations and, by November 1942, was back with 92 on regular desert patrols in Spitfire Vs. Between then and May 1943, he would complete around another 130 operational sorties, raise his score by 14 confirmed, and win the D.S.O. and his second D.F.C., the former for bringing down seven enemy aircraft in a week.

The first of these victories was obtained over Tunisia on 8 January - a confirmed Macchi 202 piloted by Sergeant Giorgio Pettazzoni, who was killed - when 92 was scrambled from Tamet:

‘The one I chased went down almost vertically from 10,000 feet to the deck, clocking 400 plus. Gained on him easily along the deck and drew smoke from him with a cannon shell in his radiator and oil cooler. He finally hit the ground and burst into flames after some more hits from my cannon which were working well this day! The aircraft dissolved in flame and small pieces. His parachute somehow came out and was lying open on the ground and was billowing in the breeze with something on the end of it which was once the pilot. Poor devil. Seems a pity ...’

Three days later, on Duke’s 21st birthday, and on his third operational sortie of the day, he claimed two Macchi 202s, one piloted by Colonel Maggiore Gustavo Garretto (the C.O. of No. 18 Gruppo), and the other by 2nd Lieutenant Sottoten Telleschi - both were taken P.O.W. The Colonel afterwards commented on the sportsmanship of the Spitfire pilot, who came down to take a look at his wrecked aircraft but did not strafe him - mindful of his own experiences in 112 Squadron, Duke actually gave the Italian a friendly wave. Then on the 21 January, he broke up a Stuka formation attacking our troops near Castel Benito and claimed one more confirmed victory, observing hits and flames on the enemy aircraft’s starboard wing root before it spiralled down and exploded on the ground - the pilot managed to bale out but his parachute failed to open. Duke was recommended for a Bar to his D.F.C. and made a Flight Commander.

What followed in the first week of March 1943, when Duke led 92 in his C.O’s absence at Cairo, was to seal his reputation as one of the finest pilots in the Mediterranean theatre of war:

Monday, 1 March 1943: Duke led 92 in a scramble from Medenine, and brought down a brace of Macchi 202s - both enemy pilots baled out and one of them, Sottoten Antonio Roglai of 3 Stormo, was taken P.O.W.

Wednesday, 3 March 1943: Duke led a section of 92 on a “Suicide Four” patrol to the Gabes area, and brought down a 109 - ‘the enemy aircraft turned sharply in a climbing turn to the left. I observed strikes with cannon in the fuelage and wings. After the second burst the enemy aircraft went down vertically with smoke coming from the fuselage. Flight Sergeant H. Patterson confirms seeing it crash.’

Thursday, 4 March 1943: Duke again led a section of 92 in a scramble from Medenine, and brought down a brace of 109s - the first rolled over after he saw a big explosion behind the cockpit, the pilot baling out, and the second, after a lengthy pursuit at deck level, went into the ground - ‘Took some cine film shots of chap in his parachute and the crash on the ground’ (the ‘chap in his parachute’ was Uffz. Herbert Muller, who was taken P.O.W.)

Sunday, 7 March 1943: Duke led at least two patrols this day and claimed confirmed 109s on each of them - the second 109, which he pursued through the midst of our own A.A. fire to a range of 100 yards, had its tail shattered and was set ablaze before the enemy pilot baled out.

Two days later, Duke received a glowing letter of praise from Group Captain Richard “Batchy” Atcherley:

‘Please accept this tardy letter of congratulations on behalf of your magnificent efforts during the recent operations. They will be immediately rewarded, as no doubt you must be aware.

The Hun seemed occasionally to put up quite a spirited show in the air and it will be increasingly important to show him by examples like yours that he is butting his head against a brick wall. The F.W. 190s debut here went a bit flat as far as I can see - which is good news for us and bad news for him.

A bloody good show old boy and bloody well deserved D.S.O. - I hope to let you know you have been awarded one very soon.’

Duke was indeed awarded an immediate D.S.O., a most unusual distinction for a Flight Lieutenant, and one that reflected not just his remarkable tally of “Seven in Seven Days”, but also his leadership of 92.

Interestingly, one of his victims, a 109 pilot, was a Staffelfuhrer, the equivalent of a Wing Commander, ‘aged about twenty-four and with an Iron Cross. We took him to the mess and chatted away about Spitfires and Messerschmitts, and, as he seemed a quite good type, we showed him the cockpit of a 5b.’ Next day, however, there was a ‘terrific flap’, the German pilot having escaped - ‘Extra guards were mounted by all the aircraft in case he selected one for himself. But fortunately he did not get far; he was found in the camp wearing pyjamas.’

Meanwhile, operations continued apace, Duke claiming a Ju. 88 damaged on his second patrol on 25 March - ‘the 88’s gunner put some good shooting in on me. A bullet through the tyre, one through the airscrew and two through the leading edge’ - and a 109 destroyed over the Gabes area on the 29 March. The latter was attacked from 300 yards astern, took no evasive action and crashed on ground near the coast road.

Duke was now just about “OTE” (operational tour expired), but before the axe fell he downed a brace of Savoia 82s - one of them went into the sea and broke up, and ‘disappeared in masses of spray with engine cowlings bouncing over the water.’ Then, suddenly, as Duke would describe in his autobiography, the air was full of Focke Wulfs. Even worse, he appeared to be all alone:

‘This seemed to be it ... With the engine flat out I flew low over the sea, twisting, turning, dodging, gaining a bit of confidence when I found my Spit 9 could turn inside the Focke Wulfs, nearly blacking out sometimes with high G. Finally, in desperation and to get more height to fight, I put the aircraft into a steep climb and after what seemed a life time found myself alone again. When I got back I found that we had lost Ian Gleed. It was likely that he had found himself in my position, too, for he was heard calling for aid at one stage. It was a great loss ... ’

Having flown the last sortie of his second operational tour on 11 May 1943, when he and fellow 92 pilots acted as escort to American Kittyhawks on a bombing raid in the Cape Bon area, Duke was pleased to learn that he had been recommended by the A.O.C. for a posting to the U.K. A few days later, however, he discovered to his bitter disappointment that he was to remain in the Middle East - as a newly promoted Squadron Leader and Chief Flying Instructor at No. 73 O.T.U. at Abu Suweir. As it transpired, he gradually settled into this new role and enjoyed sharing his combat knowledge with his students, among them King Peter of Yugoslavia, but the magnetic attraction of going operational again grew ever stronger.

Italy: C.O. 145 Squadron, May 1944 - September 1944

Having met his old 92 Flight Commander, Brian Kingcome (now a Group Captain), in Cairo one day, Duke pressed him for an appointment in his new command, 244 Wing. He need not have worried, for Kingcome had already approached the A.O.C. in similar terms and, in May 1944, Duke was appointed C.O. of 145 Squadron. The unit’s brief was to fly in support of the Anzio operations, a busy part of the world for flak, 109s and Focke Wulfs, Duke quickly being reminded of the former hazard on just his second patrol - ‘My second day as C.O. of 145 might easily have been my last. A shell splinter punched a hole in my starboard wing the size of my head and only a few inches away from the cannon ammunition, peppering the radio with bits and pieces and damaging the leading edge of the wing.’

As the Allies moved inland, so too did the scope for 145’s operational agenda, and in a combat in the Cassino area in late March the Squadron scored its 200th victory. As a consequence, ‘the Public Relations people put out a press release to impress the civilians and embarrass the pilots’, top-scorer on the latter list being Duke, ‘who has himself destroyed 22 enemy aircraft - one for each year of his age.’

And that score was to quickly escalate in May 1944, commencing on the 13th, when he claimed a 109 destroyed and another damaged over the Perugia area. His diary noted:

‘Enemy aircraft reported around Cassino and we met up with six Me. 109s over Arezzo, the other side of Perugia (near Florence). There were six of us and we had good dice. I got a burst at one and saw strikes under its belly before he rolled down and off. Stayed up and dodged and turned for a bit, finally fixing on to one up above whom I climbed and turned with, easily climbing and out-turning him. I could see him flicking on the stall - he throttled back and straightened out, kicking his tail and skidding violently. Observed strikes in fuselage and forward, around the engine cowl. Observed strikes in coming off as enemy aircraft went down in a wide spiral. Lost sight of enemy aircraft near the ground but saw explosion where it disappeared.’

On the very next day he added another 109, when returning from a patrol of the Rome area, and approaching Cassino from Frosinone at 15,000 feet - after firing several bursts, Duke saw ‘a large piece come off, perhaps the hood, followed by smaller pieces from around the cockpit. Observed a fire start in cockpit and enemy aircraft crashed in the valley.’ Then, on attachment to 324 Wing at Lago, he gained the ultimate fighter pilot’s accolade, a brace of FW 190s. The Squadron had been on escort duty to four U.S.A.A.F. Baltimores over Velletri on 21 May, when a squadron pilot spotted the 190s - 18 of them with a 109 escort:

‘ ... I hit one with a burst from short range; it went down in a mass of flames, and after a quick weave to port another of this section came within my sights. The Spitfire’s explosive ammunition seemed to produce stars over the 190s fuselage, the hood flew off and out shot the pilot. There was no time to see whether his parachute opened ... ’

Duke was now safely established as the highest scoring pilot in the Mediterranean theatre of war - and was recommended by Brian Kingcome for a second Bar to his D.F.C. A week or two later, however, on a strafing sortie to the Rieti area on 7 June, Duke’s Spitfire was hit by flak - the Caterpillar Club was about to enrol a new member:

‘ ... We located some trucks and set them on fire but I found that my radiator had been hit, either by flak or by bullets from my own machine ricocheting off the ground. The engine began to vibrate and flames started to shoot out from the exhaust stubs as I pulled up and gained some height.

I turned for home, losing height, but keeping the aircraft going by slowly opening the throttle and then closing it quickly when the flames began to shoot again. Smoke began to fill the cockpit and I realized that I should have to bale out.

Seeing a break in the low clouds, I went through it to find Lake Bracciano about 2000 feet below; the lake is nine miles across and I had arrived over the centre. The smoke in the cockpit became excessive and the engine was well on fire; I released my safety straps and the oxygen connections, rolled the aircraft on its back travelling at about 180 miles per hour, and expected to fall clear. Whether or not it was my preoccupation with the smoke I am not sure, but I realized too late that I had only slid back and not jettisoned the cockpit hood. Now my parachute was caught - preventing me from dropping out, and I was very low.

It was quite unpleasant to be hanging there upside down, half-in and half-out, with the nose of the Spitfire beginning to drop; and seeing, through the smoke and flames, the lake coming up at me with alarming speed. I put in some concentrated kicking and eventually fell clear to feel my helmet and oxygen mask ripped away from my head by the slipstream.

The relief of being free of the aircraft and the sensation of falling head over heels were so pleasant that a few seconds passed before I thought of pulling the rip-cord. When I jerked the ring the parachute opened quickly, so quickly in fact, as I was moving rather fast, that one of the shoulder straps broke or came undone, causing me to fall half-out of the harness. I managed to pull myself back into it, still clutching the parachute ring; and with a sense of peculiar detachment while swinging from side to side I saw where my Spitfire had crashed into the lake and noticed that I was drifting towards the northern shore where, since their retreat from Rome had begun, I imagined there would be many Germans.

I felt that I was falling slowly until I was fairly near the water, and then it appeared to rush towards me; and as I splashed into it I banged the release box and everything except one leg strap dropped clear. But this one leg strap kept me fastened to the parachute, which seemed to have no intention of settling on the lake but of tearing madly over it, blown by the wind. As a result, I was dragged over the water, and then began to go under it and to swallow a large quantity until I was threshing around, beginning to think that I should be drowned. The parachute settled on the lake and began to sink rapidly, and now, with the leg strap still holding me, to drag me under. With a sudden inspiration I slipped the dinghy with the quick release and decided to rely on my Mae West; I bobbed quickly to the surface, coughing and spluttering.

The water seemed quite warm, and when I had got back my breath I looked up to see the remainder of my section circling above. I began to swim.

After about twenty minutes I noticed a boat put out from the shore. Italians? Or Germans?

As it drew nearer I saw there were two boys in it, and from their voices decided that they were Italians. They were. They helped me to scramble into the boat and set off for the side of the lake as fast as they could go.

We were met by several peasant farmers, and, after some sign language and broken English, we went up a hill at a sharp trot, because it was quite plain they were scared of Germans arriving. When we reached a wood they helped me to remove my wet clothes, which they hid hastily, and one by one presented me with alternative garments. By the time I had put them on I looked a sight. The trouser legs reached nearly above my knees, the coat came half way up my arms, and the hat perched on the top of my head. We grinned at one another cheerfully and then, in case any inquisitive Germans might arrive, we lay low for a while; fortunately I was safe, for the Wermacht had withdrawn a couple of hours before, our people had not yet advanced, and we were in an area of temporary no man’s land ... ’

Taken to a house on the side of the lake, Duke was given some wine, bread and cheese, and then shown to a bedroom where he settled down to sleep. His next memory was of two Americans standing over him with tommy-guns - “Hey, bud, wake up!” A hectic journey ensued - via Rome - back to 145 Squadron, during which he enjoyed many examples of Italian hospitality - ‘I seemed to be surrounded by masses of flowers and wine glasses that would never empty ... As a memento I still had my parachute ring ... and the mild distinction of being one of the few pilots to bale out and land in fresh water during the war.’ Lake Bracciano, meanwhile, became known to Allied pilots as “Duke’s Folly”.

But the Italian campaign was far from over, Duke and 145 Squadron flying a constant round of strafing operations through the rest of July, through to September, outings that raised the total of his third tour sorties to nearer the 200 mark:

‘Frequently we ran into accurate flak which seemed to follow us around the sky despite all our attempts to dodge it. It was, in fact, predicted 88mm. flak, fired from some half a dozen guns, and when we were caught by a box of these infernal machines there were moments that seemed like hours, with the aircraft feeling as though it were standing still, the Germans trying to anticipate our every move as we changed direction and height. Flak was becoming one of the biggest menaces; and the Wermacht also developed a habit of not using tracer with their light 20 to 30mm. and machine-gun fire so that we should not know that we were being given a reception while going down on a target.’

Of the matter of enemy aircraft, however, Duke was not quite finished. On 7 September, in a patrol over the Rimini-Ravenna battle area, he claimed another brace of 109s:

‘I engaged the port enemy aircraft from astern at 10,000 feet, fired a short burst at very long range (6-800 yards) in an attempt to slow it down, and observed a bright flash in the fuselage from cannon strikes. I rapidly closed and fired another burst, observing the hood fly off and what appeared to be the pilot leaving the aircraft ... I then climbed after the other two enemy aircraft still going N.W. at approximately 10,000 feet. Enemy aircraft started diving and then went into a steep climb up to about 14-15,000 feet. I quickly caught enemy aircraft in the climb as my supercharger came in and closed with the leader as he levelled off. After firing a burst at fairly long range (3-400 yards) and observing no strikes I closed to about 200 yards and scored strikes behind the cockpit, presumably in the rear petrol tank, as enemy aircraft started to burn in the fuselage. The pilot baled out and his ‘chute opened ... ’

His victims were Ofw. Holstein and Uffz. Moller - both of whom were wounded and taken P.O.W.

Excerpt from 244 Wing Review, dated 3 September 1944:

‘By destroying two Me. 109s shortly after dawn this morning, Squadron Leader Duke brought his score up to 28 destroyed. It is not proposed to turn the limelight on this remarkable achievement for even by the glow of a match it would appear as good, but with our passion for understatement we feel that in the words of higher formations, ‘Superior Show’, about meets the case ...’

Meanwhile, the A.O.C. had been noting with alarm Duke’s escalating operational sorties and hours, even though he had been ordered to limit such activity. On returning from a dawn reconnaissance patrol on 20 September, he was greeted by Brian Kingcome: “The A.O.C. has ordered that your tour is ended immediately ... It seems pretty certain you will be going back to England.” Finally, after nearly three years overseas, Duke was indeed homeward bound, where he enjoyed his first Christmas with his parents since 1940:

‘All the buses had stopped when I reached Tonbridge eventually; I left my bags at the station and walked to Hadlow Road. I felt it was much too late to wake my father and mother, and decided to slip into the house through a back window, go to bed in my old room and greet the folks at breakfast ... my room was unchanged from the day I had gone to Uxbridge; the dust sheet still lay over the model aerodrome. It was good to be home again.’

In February 1945, soon after celebrating his 23rd birthday, Duke attended an investiture at Buckingham Palace to receive his D.S.O. and D.F.C. with 2 Bars. When finally he reached the front of the queue - ‘the string orchestra played ... and played ... ’ - The King asked him how long it had taken for him to win them. He was to receive his Czech Military Cross in somewhat less formal circumstances while visiting Prague with the R.A.F.’s High Speed Flight in 1947 - ‘We had some wonderful parties that evening.’

Test pilot

On his return to the U.K., Duke had determined to avoid at all costs the prospect of “flying a desk”, even turning down the unusual appointment - and advancement to - Wing Commander, Assistant Air Attache at Chunking. Instead, in order to stay flying, he dropped rank to Flight Lieutenant, and accepted an interim post as C.O. of a Communications Flight at Inverness, while the Air Ministry came up with a more promising assignment. Fortuitously for British aviation at large, and Hawkers in particular, they eventually suggested that he try his hand at production testing - “We have a scheme for attaching pilots on operational rest to aircraft manufacturing firms.” Duke duly reported to the company’s Chief Test Pilot at Langley, near Slough, Buckinghamshire, on 1 January 1945, and commenced production test work in Tempest IIs and Vs - ‘It was to be an interesting year; a year, in fact, which although I did not realize it at the time was ultimately to decide my future.’

That future was sealed by his passing No. 4 Course at the Empire Test Pilots’ School at Cranfield (an establishment that has been described as “The University of Flying”). In those days, pilots were not given dual instruction, so Duke’s first flight in a jet, a Meteor 3, was very much a solo event - ‘off we went’. In June 1946 he was delighted to learn that he had been selected to join the R.A.F’s High Speed Flight at Tangmere:

‘Throughout July and August we flew round the course in new Meteor 4s. I went round it about one hundred and eighty times. During these training flights we worked up speeds of about 595 miles per hour or about Mach Number 0.8 and we had a number of bumpy rides. These bumps could be caused either by the weather or, if the tide was out, from heat waves or thermals rising from the rocks and sand under the heat of the sun. At times you felt as though you were sitting at the top of a flight of stairs with your legs stuck out straight in front of you; and then somebody grasped your legs and pulled you away downstairs.

This was rather uncomfortable, and so was the occasion when one of the Rolls Royce Derwent engines failed. I was flying along at between 120 and 150 feet at some 580 miles per hour when the revolutions of the port engine fell, with the result that the aircraft swung and rolled sharply to one side; and, with the controls heavy while flying at speed, it needed some effort to keep the machine straight. I was able to cut out the port engine altogether and to fly back on the other.’

Towards the end of August two new Meteors were delivered to the High Speed Flight for an attempt at a World Air Speed Record, an achievement that on this occasion fell to the unit’s C.O., Group Captain Teddy Donaldson, D.S.O., A.F.C., but Duke also managed to break the 600 m.p.h. mark:

‘I made several flights around the course and managed to work up 626 miles per hour for one run. I started the runs at 1000 feet over Worthing and put the nose of the aircraft down to reach 120 feet before beginning the measured section of the course. When I opened the throttle I could feel the seat pushing into my back. The needle of the air speed indicator swung quickly over to 550 miles per hour, and then seemed to creep to 600 miles per hour. The cockpit got hotter and hotter due to the friction of the air on the hood and I began to perspire freely. Compressibility developed and I found the aircraft beginning to shudder and vibrate quite violently; the nose began to drop and the port wing to dip. I had to use both hands firmly on the control column and to prop my left shoulder against the side of the cockpit to help keep the Meteor straight on course ... ’

Duke also put one of the Flight’s Meteors ‘through all of its paces’ at international airshows in Brussels and Prague, the latter occasion causing some alarm when the 150,000-strong crowd broke through the barriers and encircled him on landing. He was eventually “rescued” by a police escort. Back home, however, he discovered that the High Speed Flight was to be disbanded, on the very same day that Geoffrey de Havilland was killed in a D.H. 108. Returning to Cranfield to complete the second part of his course at the Empire Test Pilots’ School, Duke was next posted to the Aeroplane and Armament Experimental Establishment at Boscombe Down, where, among other duties, he was directed to carry out research work with Meteors at high Mach numbers and high altitudes, work that no doubt contributed to the award of his A.F.C. in January 1948.

Much that he enjoyed his time at Boscombe, Duke was ever conscious of the growing liklihood of being grounded to “fly a desk”, especially having re-attained the rank of Squadron Leader, a fear that to a certain extent was complicated by the offer of a job back at Hawkers - as a civilian test pilot. As it transpired, while he agonised over making a decision, fate intervened when he was ordered to America to be fitted out with the latest type of pressure suit for high altitude tests - ‘I felt that I could not accept the visit to America, and then return to say I intended to leave the R.A.F.’ So in June 1948, he resigned his commission to become a full-time test pilot at Hawkers, where he was appointed No. 2 to “Wimpy” Wade - and quickly set a string of flight records.

In May 1949, in a Hawker Fury bound for the stables of the Royal Pakistan Air Force, he set a record of 2 hours 30 minutes and 58.4 seconds for London to Rome, and, following an irritating delay beset by Italian red-tape, finally got airborne again to take the overall London to Karachi flight record at 15 hours 18 minutes 36 seconds - ‘I must have been getting rather tired by this time for I found myself shining the torch through the canopy to look at the Baluchistan coastline 21,000 feet below!’ Then in February 1950, again in a Hawker Fury, this time bound for delivery to the Royal Egyptian Air Force, Duke set another record for the benefit of Hawkers, making the journey from London to Cairo in 6 hours, 32 minutes 10 seconds - ‘The desert was unchanged, but there were no 109s about.’

While such achievements did much to bolster Hawkers’ standing in the world of aviation, a more secretive programme of testing continued on other aircraft and engine types, the former including the P1052 and P1081, and the latter work on rocket-propelled fighters. One of the tail installations Duke tested was Armstrong-Siddeley’s “Snarler” rocket:

‘During my last flight with the rocket, I was re-lighting it between 3000 and 10,000 feet when the thing expoded and set fire to the tail of the aircraft. I could see in my cockpit mirror just what was going on, so I shut down the rocket and landed. The burning tail of the aircraft evidently looked worse from the ground than it seemed while I was in the air.’

Racing, too, was all part of the scene, Duke winning the Kemsley Trophy in a P1040 (afterwards developed into the Seahawk), but only just - John “Cat’s Eyes” Cunningham was a mere second behind him in a Vampire for de Havillands. In the same year, too, “Wimpy” Wade and Duke shared the Geoffrey de Havilland Memorial Trophy. Nor, of course, was rivalry between Hawkers and de Havillands merely limited to public meetings - about this time John Derry had broken the sonic barrier for the first time in a D.H. 108, and the race was now on to push the Mach points yet higher. But while achieving greater speed was always going to be a serious matter, the competing test pilots and companies were on friendly enough terms, and certainly not adverse to mounting occasional leg-pulling sessions.

Thus the time when “Wimpy” Wade and Duke invited John Cunningham and John Derry over to Hawkers to inspect new wire-recorders that had been installed in their aircraft to improve the compilation of flight information - and to listen to a sample recording from a recent flight made by Wade. Unbeknown to the de Havilland men, however, as they stood in Wade’s office “all ears”, was the fact that the recording they were about to hear had been made on the ground, the Hawkers’ men having decided upon the convincing background noise of a vacuum cleaner to represent the sound of a jet engine from inside the cockpit, the whole mixed-in with Wade’s fictional flight commentary. Derry and Cunningham were duly impressed at the quality of the recording, but even more so when they heard Wade reporting that he was going into a dive in his P1052 and reaching “Mach point eight ... eight five ... nine ... nine five ... nine seven ... nine eight ... nine nine ...”:

‘In fact we had not pushed the P1052 anywhere near that Mach number, and both John Derry and John Cunningham began to look not only interested but astonished, though trying to appear unconcerned. It may have been our amusement at their expressions or else they caught Wimpy exchanging glances with me; but it wasn’t long before they twigged that they were somewhere down the end of a garden path ... ’

In 1950, in order to maintain links with his old service career, Duke accepted the command of No. 615 Squadron, Royal Auxiliary Air Force, as a result of which he came into close contact with Winston Churchill, the unit’s Honorary Air Commodore. But in 1951, as a result of “Wimpy” Wade’s death, and Duke’s elevation to Chief Test Pilot at Hawkers, he was compelled to resign his command as a result of his much increased workload. Also at this time, Bill Bedford arrived as Duke’s No. 2, and Hawkers moved to Dunsfold.

Duke first flew the P1067 - the Hunter prototype - at Boscombe Down in the summer of 1951, but many, many flights and reports ensued before she went supersonic before the public at Farnborough in September of the following year. But any sense of elation was marred by the horrific death of John Derry and his navigator, Tony Richards, in their de Havilland 110, at the same event, when it ‘blew to bits’ in a moderate turn. As dramatic film footage of the incident all too vividly portrays, the cockpit, and both of the engines, ‘still running like torpedoes’, separated from the airframe and carried on into the crowd, killing another 28 people. Terrible though the carnage was on the ground, and conscious of the fact the crowd needed to be distracted from it, Duke quickly turned his attention to getting airborne in his Hunter, but not before having to wait for the wreckage of the D.H. 110 to be cleared from the runway - ‘The cockpit was quiet and warm ... it would be untrue to say that I was not disturbed and worried by John’s death. I reflected that so little is known of supersonic flight; perhaps it could have had something to do with the accident’. His own subsequent supersonic display - one of the best of his career - won the admiration of all those present. He was gazetted for the O.B.E. in the New Year’s Honours List, an award undoubtedly brought about by the personal intervention of the Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, who, quick to recognise Duke’s courageous example, had written to him the very next day - ‘Accept my salute’.

Work, meanwhile, proceeded apace on the Hunter programme, some models being powered by Armstrong-Siddeley’s “Sapphire” engine, rather than the prototype’s Rolls-Royce Avon, and further enhanced by the “re-heat” process. In fact, by the summer of 1953, when the Hunter was well into development stages for the R.A.F., a decision was made to regain the World Air Speed Record from the Americans. Duke’s first attempt on 1 September nearly ended in disaster when one undercarriage leg was sucked out with a big bang as he ran over Bognor Pier at about 300 feet with a speed building to 700 m.p.h. - ‘The Hunter whipped over the vertical and I was nearly into the sea. Such was the strength of the Hunter that it held together in extremis. I landed back at Dunsfold on two wheels without too much further damage. The Hawker Experimental Department had the wing off, repaired at Kingston in double quick time and we were back in the air on the 7th ... ’: taking off from R.A.F. Tangmere on that date, his special all-red Hunter WB188 performed immaculately, setting a new World Air Speed Record of 727.63 m.p.h. off Littlehampton. Duke was back in the headlines on an international scale - but received no official recognition for his remakable achievement, not even when he also captured the 100 kilometre closed circuit record at 709.2 m.p.h. less than a fortnight later: in today’s terms at least, feats that were worthy of nothing less than a knighthood.

However, in August 1955, following two incidents of the hair-raising kind off the south coast, he did win an instantaneous Queen’s Commendation for Valuable Services in the Air:

‘I was carrying out gun-firing tests at sea-level off Littlehampton at 700 miles per hour when there was a sudden bang which shook the Hunter. I throttled back immediately, scanning the instruments, but I could neither see or feel any damage. However, as soon as I began to open up again, the engine was decidely rough - temperature well off the clock - and then it stopped.

I managed to glide back towards Ford, trying to save the aeroplane. There is little use in a test pilot, having once discovered a problem, deciding to leave it and bale out. Either he or someone else will only run into it again if the reason is not discovered and corrected. There is, of course, a fine dividing line between loss of aeroplane and pilot and just the loss of an aeroplane, but that is all part of the test pilot’s judgement. As some might put it - that’s what one is paid for!

I got the machine down, thinking to myself that it was a turbine blade failure due to an engine surge whilst firing the four 30mm. Aden guns and so it proved.’

Two days later, after an engine change, I went back down to Ford to collect the aeroplane. As I cleared 1000 feet, with Chichester harbour just below me, I found that the throttle control only gave me idling thrust. I was suddenly faced with very few options.

R.A.F. Thorney Island, which was almost underneath me, was the nearest aerodrome so I dropped down towards it. Due to my position I arrived with too much airspeed for a normal landing but insufficient excess speed to make a circuit to land on the main runway. Losing height I tried to put it down across the airfield on a rough grass surface, the ASI showing about 200 miles per hour. Touching down on this uneven surface put the poor Hunter into a series of bounces that comes with a tricycle undercarriage which puts the machine’s centre of gravity well aft. Something had to be done quickly as I was fast running out of landing space and in any event the Hunter was virtually out of control. I selected “wheels-up” but only one wheel retracted although it was enough to avert a fatal stall off the top of one of the rapidly increasing bounces.

Sitting helplessly in the cockpit, I jettisoned the hood and cut the fuel while the aeroplane careered into a number of arcs, I had no control over my destiny whilst being shaken unmercifully. Reaching the edge of the aerodrome it hurtled across a ditch before crunching nose first into a sea-wall on the other side. The machine broke up but I emerged from the mess with only cuts and bruises but aching badly. I can’t remember how much pain I had at that precise moment, but it was later found that I had fractured my spine. The problem with the Hunter had been caused by a small particle of fluff in a fuel control valve.’

Duke later joked with Donald Campbell that this second landing probably qualified him for the World Land Speed Record. Joking aside, he was determined not to be denied his flying, and insisted on returning to the Hunter programme even though still in plaster. But in May 1956, in a very heavy landing in P1099, as part of the trials that would eventually lead to exploration of vertical take-off and the Harrier, he crushed a disc and further damaged his back - such was the force of the vertical impact that it also dislodged some teeth fillings:

‘I was now in big trouble and out of action flat on my back for a long time and in extreme pain. I eventually took to the air again after five months of useless inaction but after a few flights in October 1956, I realised that I could not take more than very limited “G” forces without considerable discomfort. The Hawker Company had been extremely tolerant and could not have been more helpful and understanding with the problem but I felt I could not remain on as a “lame duck” Chief Test Pilot. It was mutually agreed and now quite obvious that I could not do the job any further and sadly I resigned.’

Duke describes the period 1957-58 as his ‘wilderness years’, when he ‘cast around for another way of life but flying was really the only thing I wanted to do.’ In point of fact he flew anything he could get his hands on, working on freelance flying and consultancy work with Fairey Aviation and Field Aircraft Services amongst others, and testing F 86 and CF 100 Sabres for the R.C.A.F. By 1960 he was better established, having set up Duke Aviation Ltd., which enabled him to carry out some freelance test flying for a number of companies, added to which, in the same year, he became the personal pilot to Sir George Dowty of the Dowty Group, a major supplier of components for air forces and the aviation industry worldwide. In 1969 he expanded his test flying commitments with his appointment as test pilot to Miles Aviation and, in the 1980s, to Brooklands Aerospace Group. In fact, since departing Hawkers in 1956, Duke has flown continuously to this day, more notable projects in recent years including his employment in testing aspects of the Optica (observation), Fieldmaster (crop-dusting) and Firemaster (water bombing) aircraft.

It is a unique record of service for which his country - and the British aircraft industry in particular - has much to be thankful.

References: Test Pilot, Neville Duke (Grub Street, London, 1992); The War Diaries of Neville Duke, edited by Norman Franks (Grub Street, London, 1995); The Duke Archive (see above).