That this House has considered the role of the RAF Photographic Reconnaissance Unit during the Second World War.
It is a pleasure to serve under your chairmanship, Ms Vaz. I begin by placing on record my thanks to the Backbench Business Committee for granting me this debate, and for its flexibility in allowing me to move the debate from the previous date to accommodate my recent compassionate leave.
I am especially proud, as the daughter of a second world war veteran, to open this debate, and I am honoured to do so on the 80th anniversary of the end of that global conflict. As this is the second debate on the national monument for individuals who served in the RAF reconnaissance units during the second world war, I wish to use this opportunity to update the record on the progress that has been made on this campaign, and to highlight how the Minister might help to further bolster its incredible ambition.
Since 2019, the Spitfire AA810 project has sought to achieve recognition of the work carried out by members of the Royal Air Force more than 80 years ago. Indeed, it has taken the project more than six years to locate and access, where available, the official records to build a measured picture of exactly how important their work was. The unarmed reconnaissance units and squadrons were formed in 1939, and their work would play a vital part in every single theatre of allied operations in the second world war. Every invasion, every operation and every tactical decision taken by the allied supreme command substantially used the intelligence brought back by these young airmen, the fewest of Churchill’s few. The secret war—a spies in the skies war—was carried out from just a handful of bases, their work largely unspoken. The photographic intelligence team supporting them—men and women from a variety of backgrounds—worked hidden away in requisitioned homes. Their work, too, is set to be recognised for the first time, and I shall cover that later in this speech.
By the end of the war, those young airmen had delivered some 26 million photographs—all compiled, categorised, analysed and reported on within 24 hours of the aircraft returning to the UK—intelligence from which would arrive not far from this place in the then Cabinet war rooms below the Treasury. With decades of hindsight, experts now recognise that aerial photography produced some 80% of the intelligence used for the strategic planning of the allied tactical campaign. Supported by Enigma decoding and the work of the Special Operations Executive in occupied enemy territory, the efforts of these men and women considerably shortened the war, saving hundreds of thousands—if not millions—of lives. Therefore, those of us who, like me, are direct descendants of second world war veterans owe a particular debt of thanks to the airmen of the photographic reconnaissance unit, because without their work, our fathers and grandfathers would literally have been advancing into the unknown.
With the war over, a new cold war era was coming. Intelligence developments would remain secret, the work pioneered by these individuals hushed up in a wider world of uncertainty. But who were these people and how do we recognise them, for there were not many?
In the early days of the campaign, it was found that the records of those who served had never been collated. By searching the orders of battle to identify the units tasked with that vital work, it was possible to access those individuals’ public operations record books and begin the painstaking work of piecing together and cross-referencing the names of all who had served. From those pages grew a list of names, but they were names without a story. It has been a mammoth effort for nearly six years for the team to find out who those people were, where they had come from, and importantly, what happened to them. To date, 1,747 names have been identified as eligible for inclusion on the monument, but publicly accessible records have enabled the fate of only 1,408 of them to be confirmed. It is also worth noting that as research has continued over the years, the death rate percentage has fluctuated as more information has become available. Nonetheless, it has remained stubbornly in the mid-40% range for some time now.
I congratulate my hon. Friend on securing this important debate, at which many of us are here to support her. Two of the names on that list of 1,747 people are from my constituency of Ealing Southall, including Warrant Officer Mervyn Harris, who was reported missing in action in June 1945, just before the end of the war. His body was never found. Sergeant Frank Bastard, from Chandos Avenue in Northfields, survived the war and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal for flying after a pilot was injured. Warrant Officer Harris has a local memorial at the NatWest bank in Southhall, where he used to work. Does my hon. Friend agree that, although local monuments are a great thing, we need a national monument to properly recognise those people’s sacrifice?
I completely concur, and I am delighted that we are here today talking about just such a national monument.
Tragically, the project has been able to confirm that 629 of those men— representing 45% of those who could be found—were casualties. Of those who were killed, a third are still missing in action to this day. As they flew solo over great distances, with instruments such as radios having been removed to improve the aircraft’s range, we simply do not know where they went down.
I thank my hon. Friend for securing this important debate. She has said that approximately one in two of those in the reconnaissance unit lost their lives. Of the two from the Bishop Auckland constituency, one did not survive: 20-year-old Flight Sergeant Peter Charles Wells from Whorlton village. He was shot down over Malta just two days before Christmas in 1941. His grave is inscribed with psalm 139:9:
“If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me”.
My hon. Friend emphasises the loss that we have experienced, and the absolute need to honour those people. I hope that Peter Wells’s family will have more than just a grave in Malta.
I thank my hon. Friend for putting on record that touching and beautiful tribute to the servicemen from his constituency.
One of those who never came home was Flight Sergeant Charles Ross from my own Carlisle constituency. His records show him as serving in the far east, but we do not know whether he lived beyond VJ Day to make it home to his family. Another airman from the Carlisle area, Flight Lieutenant Rae Armstrong, survived and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for his work. However, two other local men did not return. Flying Officer Ivan Cooke would be killed aged 34 in operations from Malta, and Flying Officer William Johnston was killed returning from a reconnaissance operation in his Spitfire in December 1944. He was just 22 years old.
I know that many hon. Members here today, and those who are unable to join us, wish to pay tribute to the men who came from their constituencies. My right hon. Friend the Member for Oxford East (Anneliese Dodds) has asked that heroes such as Denis Herbert Vincent Smith, who remains missing after being shot down in 1942; Norman Stuart Cooper, who was killed in action in 1944; and Norman Charles Shirley, who was awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal for his wartime service, all of whom have a connection with Oxford East, be remembered too.
I also wish to recognise the work of the photographic intelligence teams who supported the aircrews, whose names will also be included on the memorial. These men and women were crucial to the entire process. Without them, we would have had the 26 million photographs, but we would not have gleaned the intelligence that we did from them. Those men and women used a little-known branch of science called stereoscopy to turn the photographs into 3D images, from which they could decipher and interpret the intelligence contained within, giving the allies a crucial intelligence advantage over the Nazis.
I congratulate the hon. Member for Carlisle (Ms Minns) on securing this debate and on the way she recounted such moving and powerful stories. Each story is unique, but they are all united by themes of selflessness, quiet heroism and unwavering commitment to our country.
I will pay particular attention to Tatton’s own local photographic reconnaissance unit hero, Flight Sergeant William Douglas Stepford. William was born in Handforth, married his sweetheart Bessie, and joined the RAF Volunteer Reserve. He trained as a navigator and was posted to 540 Photographic Reconnaissance Squadron. Sadly, in August 1944, while flying a reconnaissance mission over Munich, William’s aircraft was shot down over Hallstatt. He was just 24 years old. That was alongside his pilot, Flight Lieutenant Desmond Laurence Matthewman, DFC.
For so many reconnaissance flights, the missions were carried out in exceptionally difficult circumstances—clandestine, unarmed and often solo flights over enemy territory, which put the individuals in unique danger. The death rate was nearly 50%, with one of the lowest survival rates in the war, but the unit captured 26 million photographs over the course of the war, taken by 1,746 reconnaissance pilots and navigators.
The efforts of the unit were essential, and nowhere more so than in the planning of D-day, also known as Operation Overlord, the most significant victory of the allies. That was the most comprehensive reconnaissance operation of the war. In the months before the invasion, low-level reconnaissance flights over Normandy provided critical intelligence about German beach defences and key infrastructure. Without that information, the comprehensive plans for Operation Overlord, and its ultimate success, would not have been possible.
Tatton played a unique role in the preparations. The quiet village of Lower Peover played host to many of the great Americans of history, from General George Patton to General Eisenhower—later President Eisenhower, of course. Peover Hall became the headquarters of the vast US third army. In the local pub, the Bells of Peover, Patton and Eisenhower met to discuss plans for the invasion. Today, still, in that pub, in the upstairs dining room—now, aptly, named The Patton—can be found a small pocket diary on display. Spread across the pages for 5 and 6 June 1944, an unknown serviceman wrote in block capitals:
It is a pleasure to serve under your chairship today, Ms Vaz. I thank my hon. Friend the Member for Carlisle (Ms Minns) for securing this important debate. We are here today to honour the men and women of the RAF photographic reconnaissance unit, whose intelligence gathering and same-day reports influenced critical wartime decisions. It has been a privilege today to hear about some of these men and women, two of whom came from my own constituency of Morecambe and Lunesdale.
Like so many, their heroism was consistent and anonymous. The covert nature of the operations meant that the pilots worked without most forms of protection, and operations were often flown solo in unarmoured and unarmed craft. Consequently, this unit faced some of the deadliest odds in the entire war. Almost half would not survive, and the average life expectancy was barely two years.
The result of these dangerous and often fatal missions were millions of photographs of important strategic targets, giving allies vital and accurate information that would prove instrumental in the planning of some of the most pivotal operations, from D-day to the Dambusters raid. The information was analysed by 635 photographic interpreters, who sifted through nearly 26 million images of enemy operations, providing up-to-date intelligence.
One third of these interpreters were women who worked tirelessly to protect a nation at a time when they were not even allowed to open their own bank accounts. The unit of pilots was made up of people from 22 nations working together to advance the war effort. World war two is considered to be the golden age of British spirit, but the truth is that our greatest achievements have always come from unity across different peoples and places.
As I said, two members of the unit came from my area. John Boys-Stones was born in 1919 in Morecombe, and he joined the RAF to train as a pilot, before he was posted to the photographic reconnaissance squadron based in Malta. On 7 March 1941, he was tasked to photograph the damage inflicted on an enemy shipping convoy that had been attacked earlier that day. On his approach to land, his aircraft was shot down by an enemy fighter. He was killed instantly, and he was only 22.
It is a pleasure to serve under your chairship, Ms Vaz; I am really pleased to have the opportunity to contribute to this debate. I congratulate the hon. Member for Carlisle (Ms Minns) on securing the debate and providing Members with the opportunity to recognise those from our constituencies. All of us in this Chamber and beyond recognise that the role of the RAF photographic reconnaissance unit, or the PRU, during world war two deserves far greater recognition. They were brave men and women who operated in the shadows, often alone, often unarmed and always under threat, to gather the vital intelligence that enabled our armed forces to plan and execute decisive decisions.
As we have heard, the reconnaissance unit played a critical role in some of the most famous and successful missions of the war, from the Dambusters raid to D-day and even the hunt for the Bismarck, but behind these national and international stories, there are people. There are people from communities such as mine in Aldridge-Brownhills. One such individual was Flying Officer Eugene Cotton, a local hero from Rushall, who I am proud to speak about today. I can see you smiling, Ms Vaz, as my neighbouring MP from the borough of Walsall; I think it does reflect on the joint history of the Walsall borough.
Eugene was just 25 when he flew Mosquito aircraft on dangerous reconnaissance missions over Japanese-held territory in the far east, and in December 1943, he flew over Rangoon in a mission, but sadly he never returned. His story, though tragic, is also deeply inspiring. Eugene’s parents, Arthur and Ethel, were well known in the local community. His father served as an organist and choirmaster at St Michael and All Angels church in Pelsall, and his mother taught at Pelsall School. They were local people clearly grounded in service to their local community, and Eugene followed in their footsteps, offering the ultimate sacrifice for our country.
It is a pleasure to serve under your chairship, Ms Vaz. I thank my hon. Friend the Member for Carlisle (Ms Minns) for securing this important debate.
Last November, I visited war memorials across the Cities of London and Westminster. From Paddington and Marylebone stations to St Paul’s cathedral, we honoured all those who fought and made such great sacrifices during both world wars. I am honoured to meet veterans regularly in my constituency and to talk with them about their service.
Now is a good time to reflect on the importance of memorials. I am a descendant of two second world war veterans. One of my grandfathers fought in the artillery in Burma and the other was part of the Italian army. They fought, made huge physical, mental and emotional sacrifices, and suffered for our freedom. This debate is an opportunity to think about those who put themselves in a different kind of danger—those in the Photographic Reconnaissance Unit. Others have spoken eloquently this afternoon about the huge risks that they took in their expeditions.
I want to pay particular tribute to Flight Officer James Downie, born on St George Street in Mayfair, who died on a mission to the Romagne region of France and is commemorated there with a memorial constructed by local residents; Sergeant James Jacobs, who was killed in a propeller accident at just 21 years old; Flight Lieutenant Basil Allen, from Hanover Square; Wing Commander Denis Bennett, born near Hanover Square; Flight Lieutenant Frederick Effort; Flight Officer Noel Henkel; Flight Lieutenant Anthony Oldworth; Squadron Leader John Saffery; Flight Lieutenant Denis Speares; Flight Lieutenant David Wycliffe; Sergeant Robin Vigiers; Flight Sergeant Malcolm Westcott; and Flight Lieutenant Ian Barraclough, all of whom served in the Photographic Reconnaissance Unit.
I am really proud to represent so many people who have such an important connection to the unit. I am proud to support the memorial by St James’s Park and I am grateful that it has the Government’s support.
It is pleasure to serve under your chairship, Ms Vaz. I thank the hon. Member for Carlisle (Ms Minns) for affording us all the opportunity to recognise a wonderful part of this nation’s history. It is a real pleasure to see the Minister in his place. He is held in high esteem by all hon. Members—not to put any pressure on the answers that he will give shortly. I say that in jest.
It is a great pleasure to speak about the extraordinary role of the RAF Photographic Reconnaissance Unit during the second world war—a unit whose daring missions and critical intelligence gathering were pivotal to the allied victory. The PRU’s pilots, who flew unarmed planes into enemy skies, showed a bravery that reminds us of the men of the merchant navy, who manned unarmed ships through dangerous waters.
In 1940, the RAF PRU rose from Sidney Cotton’s civilian Heston Flight, officially becoming the No. 1 Photographic Reconnaissance Unit in November 1940. It was tasked with capturing high-resolution aerial photos of enemy territory. We have to consider what that means—it means it operated with little or no protection. The PRU became our eyes in the sky.
The pilots would fly modified, unarmed aircraft, such as Spitfires and Mosquitoes, at incredible speeds and altitudes of 44,000 feet, evading enemy detection to gather intelligence. The images meticulously analysed by the RAF Medmenham’s allied central interpretation unit revealed German secrets from rocket programmes to fortified defences. In 1943, the PRU’s reconnaissance over Peenemünde revealed Germany’s V1 and V2 rocket development, prompting Operation Hydra, a bombing raid that delayed the use of those weapons by months, potentially saving countless lives.
For D-day in 1944, the PRU’s 85,000 daily images mapped the Atlantic wall, enabling precision planning for the Normandy invasion. It is impossible to overstate the courage demanded for these missions. Just like the merchant navy, whose crews worked mostly on unarmed ships, braving U-boat-infested waters to deliver vital supplies, the PRU pilots flew unarmed planes in skies heavy with Luftwaffe fighters.
As the hon. Members who have spoken so far have been so good with their time, other Members have a bit more time.
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Among those who did that critical work were the legendary Constance Babington Smith, the actor Dirk Bogarde, and Sarah Churchill, the daughter of the then Prime Minister. Indeed, of the 630 photographic interpreters who will be included on the memorial, almost a third were women. That only serves to highlight how crucial the work of women was to the success of the entire operation.
The work of the photographic reconnaissance unit was truly international, and the campaign team have worked hard to identify nationals from across the world—from Argentina to Trinidad, from Malawi to Ukraine, and from many more countries—who answered the call of the common cause against tyranny, and who bravely came forward to serve, flying unarmed operations and helping to shorten the war.
How do we now look to recognise these efforts and sacrifices? Since the last Westminster Hall debate was held on this topic in 2021, the project has met and gained the formal support of former and current veterans Ministers, including my hon. Friend the Minister, who has engaged positively and wholeheartedly with this project and its supporters across Westminster. Across Parliament, the campaign has secured the support of more than 200 MPs from all parties, as well as 16 foreign embassies and high commissions. Formal Ministry of Defence support for the monument proposal was given by the then Defence Minister Baroness Goldie, and reaffirmed recently by Lord Coaker.
Earlier this year, with ministerial support from within the Cabinet Office, a successful meeting was held with the Royal Parks authority and the Department for Culture, Media and Sport, during which verbal confirmation of support for the monument and its location was given. Because the intelligence gained from these operations was used by the war Cabinet to such great effect, there seemed no more suitable a location to honour this work than just yards from the wartime underground Cabinet war rooms, where that intelligence was originally received.
Following formal written support by the Ministry of Defence and Cabinet Office, along with confirmations of no objections received from the Treasury and the Government Property Agency, I am delighted to share that the project has now begun the formal planning stage. The monument is to be located in the grassed area outside the Treasury building, alongside the exit from the Cabinet war rooms. And what a monument it will be: traditional in appearance, yet utilising modern AI technology to bring to life the extensive resources collected by the project, this monument will engage visitors in a multi-language format to ensure that the individuals recognised are more than just a name on a wall—that their extreme sacrifice is known and that their work is never forgotten.
What started as the recovery of a reconnaissance Spitfire from a Norwegian mountain in 2018 has grown into a truly global project of recognition. Among veterans, too, it has been warmly welcomed, although sadly their numbers have dwindled over the years. While some five survivors were known at the start of the campaign, it is sad to put on the record the passing of the last known RAF reconnaissance airman, Warrant Officer William Williams, of 681 and 684 photographic reconnaissance squadrons, who died in April this year, just a few weeks short of his 104th birthday. Today, there remains just one photographic interpreter, identified only recently, with whom the project will shortly meet.
Because accuracy is key, the Spitfire AA810 project has gone to huge lengths to check and independently verify the identities of those who served. It is vital to the commemorative and educational aims of this campaign that all who served are recognised and nobody is left behind. Research into the service of the 635 photographic interpreters is ongoing. However, for the 399 mystery names from mostly lower ranks, publicly accessible records have been exhausted.
I therefore come to my ask of the Minister, and I am sure he will be relieved to know that it is not a financial one. The project team is reaching the end of what it can do with publicly available resources. To confirm the details of the servicemen and women who were involved, the project requests an opportunity to meet the Minister to discuss a working arrangement with civil servants and military personnel. The team are fully aware of the need to protect personal data, but they would like to access limited information in order to confirm the identities of those who are eligible for inclusion on the memorial and, more importantly, to identify the partial names that have been collated. The answers lie only within the records of the Ministry of Defence, and the project hopes to propose a simple working solution that enables it expediently to complete this important task with minimal impact on Government resources. I would be incredibly grateful for the Minister’s consideration of that request.
Finally, I commend the work of everyone in the campaign for bringing these stories to light and, most of all, of the brave individuals who served in the RAF unarmed reconnaissance units with such distinction. With this monument, I hope that their service and sacrifice will always be remembered.
“D-day tomorrow. Everybody quite excited. We land at Arromanches, clear three villages of Bayeux.”
Last year, on the 80th anniversary of D-day, I was pleased to unveil a blue plaque to mark the pub’s place in history alongside the lord lieutenant of the county of Cheshire, Councillor Anthony Harrison, and the landlord of the pub, Phil Smith, and surrounded by the local community. The plaque serves as a reminder of the unique history of this beautiful village in Cheshire.
Surrounding villages also played their part. From the secret aviation fuel plant in Plumley to the home guard at Shakerley Wood and the parachute training school at Tatton Park, each village, each unit and every individual had a role. Without those such as William Stepford putting themselves in the line of danger, the admiralty would not have had the intelligence it needed for operations like D-day. Without them, history would have taken a different course.
Alongside Members here today from across the House, I welcome plans for this memorial. I am delighted that planning has already begun, but on this occasion, can I just ask the Minister to give us the full timeframe and completion date for this memorial? It is high time that their legacy is honoured by all of us and the entire country.
Another John—John Just—was born in 1916 in Lancaster, and lived in Carnforth. He was a qualified plumber, and after marrying Maybel Jean Brown in 1939, he left for RAF service to train as a navigator. Posted to the 140 photographic reconnaissance squadron, he survived a crash on take-off on Boxing day in 1944. John Just survived the war, and the couple eventually moved to Morecambe, and then to Essex, where they raised a family. They survived to 1994 and 2008 respectively, living long lives and able to enjoy the fruits of the peace they both worked towards.
I would hazard a guess that this is the first time that many of these names have been recognised officially. That is why this monument is so important, and I support the plans outlined by my hon. Friend the Member for Carlisle. It is a small step to recognise their immense sacrifice and the debt that we owe them. This debate shows us once again that, in a world which so often assumes the worst, real history shows us the opposite. Ordinary citizens again and again choose courage—we could not even list all the people who contributed within the time constraints of this debate.
It is a privilege, as one of the millions of beneficiaries of these heroes, to stand today in a robust parliamentary democracy and speak of their bravery. In remembering them, we remind ourselves of who we can be at our best, when we come together in service of something greater than ourselves.
Eugene’s courage, and that of the more than 2,300 others who served in the unit, deserves to be recognised in our national story. That is why I am fully behind the campaign for a memorial. I welcome the Government’s recent support to move this project to the planning stage. I welcome the update we have received today, and I think it is incumbent on us all just to keep gently nudging the Minister—not that I believe he needs much nudging—to make sure it is delivered for our constituents and for our nation.
Let us remember that the PRU’s legacy was not just in the air; it extended to the photographic interpreters, many of whom were women, whose skill in analysing the 26 million images captured during the war was nothing short of remarkable. Their work saved lives, won battles and helped to bring an end to the war. Today, I add my voice in support of this memorial not just as a Member of Parliament, but as someone who knows just how much this means to our local communities and to our nation. If we are to honour the memories of heroes such as Eugene Cotton, we must ensure that their contributions, as well as the contributions of all who served in the RAF photographic reconnaissance unit, are fully recognised. The unit’s work was vital. It was often unseen, but it changed the course of history, and it is time we gave them the place that they deserve in our national story.
Tragically, the PRU suffered the highest casualty rate of any RAF unit. Pilots such as Wing Commander Adrian Warburton, a daring pilot who on 11 November 1940 flew a recon mission over a huge flight of Italian battleships in Taranto harbour, not far from Malta—flying so low he could almost reach out and touch the vessels, and was very aware of their painted names. He was shot down in April 1944. His remains were not discovered until 2002 in a field in Bavaria, around 30 miles west of Munich, still strapped in his plane’s cockpit.
The PRU’s strength was supported by pilots and bases around the Commonwealth and beyond. I am very proud to say that Northern Ireland had a role to play in that, with a vital RAF hub supporting the PRU at airfields in Aldergrove and Limavady, which were key locations for Coastal Command operations until 1942.
The Commonwealth’s role in the PRU was significant thanks to the Canadian, Australian and New Zealand airmen, and of course the invaluable contributions of the Polish airmen whose feats are the stuff of legend. No. 318 Polish Fighter-Reconnaissance Squadron supported reconnaissance efforts as well, and their flights over Peenemünde were critical. Polish intelligence from the Home Army provided ground-level reports that complemented PRU imagery, especially after rocket testing shifted to Blizna in Poland.
The PRU’s innovations saw techniques such as “dicing”, where pilots skimmed treetops under fire—my goodness, that makes your head spin. Night photography using the Edgerton D-2 flash system and infrared film by 1945 enabled the PRU to break enemy camouflage in darkness. Who thinks all these up? I know I could not, but those people did. Those developments, teamed with cameras like the F24 and F52, delivered precise intelligence, paving the way for today’s modern reconnaissance. They set the examples for the rest of us.
The PRU’s legacy remains firm and indisputable in the National Collection of Aerial Photography, while those brave, precious lives lost are commemorated by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission with memorials around the UK, such as at Runnymede, and also in France, Malta, Sicily, Tunisia and Singapore. That demonstrates how far their reach extended.
In conclusion—I am conscious of your time limit, Ms Vaz, which is why I am speaking at 100 mph—to those brave pilots, our eyes in the sky, especially those who lost their lives flying high-risk spying missions to secure our liberation, we owe our profound, lasting admiration, respect and gratitude. Their legacy compels us to be the keepers and guardians of their history.