In the first half of the second world war, RAF Bomber Command relied on three twin-engine
medium bombers to carry out its early offensives.
There was the Vickers Wellington, the Armstrong Whitworth Whitley, and there was this: the
Handley Page Hampden.
Though on paper its listed as a medium bomber, the Hampden was significantly lighter than
the Wellington and the Whitley.
It also carried a smaller bombload, and it had a considerably reduced defensive armament.
On the other side of things, it still carried more than twice the bombload of the Bristol
Blenheim – the RAF’s primary light bomber – and because of this the Hampden sort of
sits in a category of its own.
Not quite a medium bomber, but too heavy for a light bomber.
This was because the Hampden was designed with a high priority placed on performance,
specifically speed and climb rate.
And while it did perform well in both categories, the sacrifices made to achieve said performance
would ultimately shorten its service life.
The origins of the Hampen, and the decisions made that would influence its future, can
be traced back to 1932.
The British Air Ministry was faced with an important question: did they want a bomber
that took a heavy load over a longer range?
Or did they want a bomber that could take a smaller load over a shorter range but at
a much greater speed?
This question was further complicated by two things.
In 1932 they still weren’t exactly sure where the next potential war would arise,
and thus who the enemy would be (though suspicions were growing); and in 1932 the League of Nations
held its disarmament conference, one that laid down various proposed restrictions on
the construction of bomber aircraft, with a focus on tare weight.
Think of it like the Washington Naval Treaty of the skies.
Most members of the Air Ministry had doubts as to what this conference would actually
achieve, and because of this they pushed through with issuing new specifications.
That being said, the disarmament conference was serious enough that they would place stringent
restrictions on the aircraft’s tare weight, just to be safe.
As it turned out, the conference would achieve basically nothing, but it had gone on long
enough to negatively influence Air Ministry specification B9/32, which would lay the groundwork
for the next generation of RAF bombers.
Four companies would eventually tender proposals: Bristol, Gloster, Handley Page, and Vickers.
As mentioned in our video covering the Vickers Wellington, this specification was both equally
vague and restrictive to the point of being detrimental, and it was a good indicator that
the Air Ministry still hadn’t made up their mind on what sort of bomber they really wanted.
Initially the specification called for a tare weight of no more than 6,300 pounds, which
immediately limited the choice of engines.
It also limited other important things like potential bombload and range, Handley Page
-like Vickers- had serious doubts about what it could so with such requirements, but the
design team, led by George Volkert, got to work anyway.
Doubtful that sanity would prevail in the Air Ministry, and expecting the required tare
weight to remain quite low, the Handley Page team proposed a radical design that put an
emphasis on performance rather than payload: the HP.52.
For 1932 the proposal was especially cutting-edge.
It featured an all-metal semi-monocoque construction; the airframe would be covered in a flush-riveted
stressed metal skin, with the exception of the control surfaces; it incorporated the
latest Handley Page slot systems, including wingtip slots and hydraulically operate flaps;
it would have three-blade variable pitch propellers; and it would have a retractable undercarriage.
The crew was to consist of four: a pilot, navigator, wireless operator, and a gunner.
Both the navigator in the nose, who also acted as bomb aimer, and the wireless operator,
would also be required to man additional gun positions should the need arise.
To save weight, the aircraft would be built as conservatively as a medium bomber could
be.
This would result in the distinct shape of the Hampden’s airframe.
It would feature a deep and narrow fuselage, in fact it was only 3 feet wide, and only
the frontal section was large enough to accommodate the crew.
Aft of the wing trailing edge, a boom-like extension would form the rear section of the
fuselage and connect to the twin-fin tail surfaces.
This design would earn it various nicknames such as “The Flying Tadpole”, the “Flying
Suitcase”, or the “Flying Panhandle”.
Personally, I’ve always thought of it as being one of the few aircraft to be at risk
of suffering the effects of leeway.
Though this slab-sided design had its advantages, it would later present a major problem with
compartmentalising the crew.
The navigator was pretty much confined to the nose, and the cockpit was so cramped that
if the pilot was killed or injured it would be almost impossible to have somebody take
their place.
Additionally, from the point of crew comfort, the fuselage was too small to allow the allocation
of facilities, which would make long-distance missions particularly uncomfortable for those
with small bladders.
Still, at the time, and with the Air Ministry’s weight restrictions firmly in mind, Handley
Page felt it was a necessary compromise.
By easter of 1933, the team had built a mockup of the aircraft, and proposed that it should
be powered by either Bristol Aquilla or Bristol Mercury radial engines.
Depending on the type of engine it was predicted to have a top speed of between 208 and 230
mph.
The Air Ministry approved of the design, but they tacitly encouraged the company to make
use of the new Rolls-Royce Goshawk engine instead.
This engine, which was basically a modified Rolls-Royce Kestrel, was popular with the
ministry as it made use of evaporative -or steam- cooling.
This saved weight.
The Air Ministry liked anything that saved weight, and thus they liked the Goshawk.
Unfortunately, the Goshawk proved to be about as effective as the interventive policies
of the League of Nations in the mid-1930s, i.e completely useless.
In 1934 the Air Ministry, faced with the fact that no alternative engine of a similar power-to-weight
ratio was available, was forced to relax their restrictions on tare weight to allow the installation
of more powerful, heavier engines instead.
Handley Page, along with his contemporaries over at Vickers, had somewhat anticipated
this turn of events – and not wishing to place all of his hopes on one untested engine,
he had agreed to the design team’s proposal to modify the design to allow the installation
of the Bristol Pegasus IV.
Accommodating the larger engines also meant slightly increasing the bomber’s dimensions.
The wing area went up from 560 to 600 square feet, and the fuselage was lengthened by 27
inches, as well as being made one inch taller and two inches wider.
In 1935 a second mock-up was completed to reflect these changes, and during a conference
between members of the Ministry and the design team it was decided upgrade the bomber with
the brand-new Bristol Pegasus P.E.5S.
This was the precursor to the Pegasus XVIII, boasting a two-stage supercharger, and its
installation raised the prototypes estimated range by an additional 250 miles.
Following approval of this revised design, construction on the prototype began and it
was complete by the summer of 1936.
Given the serial K4240, It flew for the first time on the 21st of June, taking off from
the company’s test field at Radlett, with Handley Page chief test pilot Major J Cordes
at the controls.
A week later it was displayed at the “new types” section of the annual RAF display
at Hendon, albeit with the glazed part of the nose covered up, as the internal layout
and design of the aircraft was listed as secret.
Following its outing at Hendon, and a brief spell at Martlesham where it was displayed
before the King, alongside other new aircraft types, the prototype continued with its flight
trials.
Though Jim Cordes did praise the aircraft for both its handling and its performance,
as it outclimbed and outran everything else in its weight class, these flight trials were
not without mishap.
In November 1936 the starboard undercarriage collapsed during landing, leading to comments
from the aerial observer that there was a strong smell of grass in the cabin as it merrily
ploughed along the airstrip.
Then, on the 13th of January 1937, Jim Cordes was flying over Hertfordshire when the starboard
propeller unit decided to part company with the engine, taking the reduction gear with
it, gash a great big hole the fuselage just behind where he was sitting, and spin off
violently towards the village of Elstree.
Cordes managed to land the prototype back at Radlett on one engine, and concerned that
errant propeller may have caused harm, he telephoned the local police.
As it turned out, the propeller had missed the village and landed in a ploughed field,
apparently with enough force that only half of one blades could be seen sticking out of
the mud.
Attempts at imitating Beyblades and spinning tops aside, the Air Ministry was so impressed
with the prototype that they placed an initial production order for 180 Aircraft in August,
just six weeks after the prototypes first flight.
They also placed a second order for 100 aircraft to be powered by the Napier Dagger engines
as the HP.53.
This was a 24-cylinder H-Block engine with a twist: it was air cooled.
The HP.53 would eventually be known as the Hereford, but this designation was actually
being recycled, as it was originally given to a version of the HP.52 that had been ordered
by Sweden.
When work on the first prototype first began, construction of a second prototype had started
almost immediately.
This second prototype was being built for the Swedish Air Force who were looking for
a new coastal patrol bomber, and who had been suitably impressed by Handley Page’s design.
The initial request, which was made back in 1934, called for the undercarriage to be interchangeable
between wheels, floats, and skis; the engines were to be Nohab-built Pesagus IIs; camera
equipment was to be installed; and it was to have a 20mm defensive gun.
Designated as the HP.53, the development of this Swedish aircraft was plagued by delays.
There were numerous problems in adapting both the engines and the airframes to the needs
of the Swedish Air Force, and to make matters worse said air force kept changing their minds
about their requirements for the design.
This dragged on for so long that by the end of 1936 the prototype was still unfinished.
Then in 1937, Handley Page suggested that they supply two naked production airframes,
without weapons or equipment, and the Swedish Airforce could modify them to their liking.
If everything went well and their aircraft proved useful, they would then be allowed
to produce the aircraft themselves under licence.
The Swedish Air force agreed to this suggestion, and the incomplete HP.53 prototype was repurposed
to test out the installation of the Napier Dagger engines.
In the event Sweden never went on to produce the bomber under licence, and the whole thing
was a bit of a wasteful saga.
The fifth Hampden produced was sent over to Sweden, but it remained the only one they
would operate.
It would eventually be used as a testbed for various electronic equipment, and it was given
over to SAAB for further testing in 1947 before being stricken off a few years later.
As experimentation began on the Napier-Powered HP.53, which would soon produce all manner
of headaches for Handley Page, the Air Ministry, and air crews of the RAF, things were gearing
up for the production of the Pegasus-Powered HP.52.
But before production got underway, it was felt that more could be done to improve the
aircraft’s design, and to trial many of the proposed upgrades a production prototype
was completed in the spring of 1938.
The production prototype, serialled L4032, flew in May and it was this aircraft which
was first given the official name of Hampen by the Viscountess of Hampden on the 24th
of June.
The production prototype differed from the previous aircraft in a number of ways, and
unsurprisingly it set the basic template for the Hampden types moving forward.
The nose was now a curved Perspex moulding, incorporating a flat bomb-aiming panel; the
dorsal and ventral gun positions were revised, the former having a roomier, semi-circular
cupola that was hinged to allow it to be pushed back over the gunners head.
Both of these positions came with a single .303 calibre Vickers K gun, and there was
provision for a fixed forward firing 303 browning in the nose that would be operated by the
pilot.
Even by the standards of 1937 this was considered a very light defensive armament.
Unfortunately, this was a consequence of the design of the airframe.
Attempts had been made to install various turrets, particularly in the nose, but the
fuselage was so narrow that they either didn’t fit, or if they did there was no room for
the gunner to properly operate the turret anyway.
Eventually the commencement of production could not be delayed any further, especially
with the situation in Europe worsening as quickly as it was, and it was agreed the Hampden’s
main line of defence would have to be its speed rather than its guns.
Still, despite going into service with this unfortunate handicap, the Hampden still managed
to distinguish itself, not just as a medium bomber, but fulfilling a number of other important
roles as well.
But before we talk about the Hampden’s varied and often underappreciated service history,
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Once again thank you to war thunder for sponsoring today’s video, and now lets get back to
the Handley Page Hampden.
Six years after the Air Ministry first issued their vague, restrictive, and mostly contradictory
requirements, the Hampdens finally began to roll off the production line.
The first two production Hampdens were allotted to the aircraft and armament experimental
establishment at martlesham heath.
The third aircraft, L4034, after undergoing service handling trials, was the first to
actually enter RAF service, joining No.49 Squadron at Scampton on the 20th September
1938.
By the end of the year two squadrons (49 and 83) were fully equipped, and another (no.
50) had begun to receive its first Hampdens as well.
In producing the Hampden, Handley Page continued to perfect a construction technique they had
employed with previous designs to great effect: split-assembly.
The sections of the fuselage, wings, and various other components were individually assembled
in jigs.
The fuselage and tail boom were built in two halves, allowing the internal equipment, cables,
and wiring to be more easily installed beforehand and then the whole lot was stuck together
like a giant airfix model.
With a war in Europe imminent (or at least feeling uncomfortably close) the Air Ministry
decided that dispersed, and even off-shore production of various aircraft types was probably
a good idea.
And the construction methods used on the Hampden made it an excellent candidate for this.
Arrangements were made for the production of Hampdens under sub-contract by English
Electric at Preston, who were given an initial contract for 75 aircraft, while in Canada
several prominent financial organisations and firms had jointly formed Canadian Associated
Aircraft ltd- which received its own initial order for 80 Hampdens at around the same time.
Another company that was awarded production contracts was Short Brothers, but they would
not be producing the Handley Page Hampden; instead, they would be producing the Napier-Powered
HP.53, which was now known as the Handley Page Hereford.
Boy, oh boy, was this a disappointing episode.
On paper things looked promising, and indeed they continued to do so when the first production
Hereford flew at Martlesham Heath in late 1939.
With its 24-cylinder engines producing 955hp each, the aircraft’s performance was almost
identical to that of the of regular Hampden; it had a top speed of 265 mph at 15,500 ft;
it had a take-off weight of just under 18,000 lbs; and it had a range of approximately 1,200
miles.
The first Herefords were delivered to No.35 Squadron at the start of 1940, and they were
quickly followed by another batch that went to 185 Squadron at Cottesmore.
And yet, despite 150 of these aircraft eventually being built, the fact that only one single
Hereford flew an operational mission over enemy territory speaks volumes to the problems
that were encountered.
It was soon found that the engines overheated when taxying, but overcooled when at altitude.
They were extremely noisy, which made long-distance missions almost unbearable, and they sat at
remarkably high revs when cruising, which not only exacerbated the noise problem, but
also led to questions about fuel efficiency.
These problems were never completely solved, and after a short while the entire collection
of Herefords were either converted back over to Hampden specifications, or, if engines
were not available, they were sent off to operational training units, no doubt to be
used in a new form of hazing ritual for new recruits.
In defence of the Hereford, the Air Ministry was right to develop it.
Relying on just the Bristol Pegasus alone was asking for trouble, especially as the
earlier models had all sorts of teething problems.
There was also the matter of supply, if Bristol couldn’t build enough of their engines,
at least Handley Page would have an alternative.
It just so happened that in the long-run the Pegasus became more reliable, and was far,
far easier to maintain as it was considerably less complex.
And so, it would just be the Pegasus-Powered Hampdens that would see frontline service
during the Second World War.
By the 3rd of September 1939, ten squadrons of Bomber Command were flying Hampdens, all
of which were with No.5 Bomb Group.
This amounted to a total of 212 operational aircraft on strength.
As with other bomber command aircraft at the start of the war, the early operations of
these Hampden squadrons were mostly confined to armed reconnaissance against German Naval
units.
The running theme for these operations in late 1939 was to fly over the Heligoland Bight
in broad daylight, taunt any upstart Kriegsmarine ships that were found in the area, and then
merrily return back to England, swatting away the occasional pesky fighter that was sent
to intercept you.
This optimistic approach to aerial warfare was, unsurprisingly, not very successful,
and it led to the wholesale slaughter of several Hampden and Wellington bomber air crews.
In one example, on the 29th of September, a flight of five Hampdens from 144 Squadron,
led by Wing Commander J.C Cunningham, was completely destroyed by German fighters during
a mission near the Heligoland coast.
Despite the heavy losses, over 21 missions were flown in this manner before Bomber Command
finally accepted that daytime missions represented too much risk, and on the 18th of December
the decision was made to switch to night-time operations instead.
The first of these missions were used to give crews experience in night-time operations,
as night-bombing had originally been reserved for heavy bombers, and thus they had had minimal
training.
In these early missions they didn’t actually carry any bombs (for a multitude of reasons
that go beyond the scope of this video, but in a nutshell nobody wanted to be the first
to accidentally bomb a city and face retaliation), they did however carry propaganda leaflets,
and pretty soon the Hampden was regularly used in so-called Bumph Raids, or Nickle raids.
These raids carried on throughout 1940, and by the end of the year 123 had been carried
out for the loss of just one Hampden.
While these Hampdens were busy dropping bundles of propaganda leaflets over land, others were
busy dropping some slightly more aggressive payloads over the sea.
In the winter of 1939-1940 some Hampdens were modified to carry magnetic sea mines.
The first of these weapons (which weighed some 2000 lbs each) were laid by Hampdens
of Nos. 44, 49, 50, 61 and 144 Squadrons in enemy waters on the night of the 13/14th April
1940 (a few days after the German invasion of Norway).
The aim of the RAFs minelaying campaign (which was undertaken jointly by Coastal Command
and Bomber Command) was to lay the weapons in areas unapproachable to ships of the Royal
Navy.
Between April 1940 and the end of the year 1,209 minelaying sorties were flown by Hampsens
of no.5 group.
703 mines were laid, and 21 aircraft went missing on these operations, a sortie casualty
rate of less than 1.9%.
Other missions over Norway had less pleasing results.
During the campaign it was decided to once again press the Hampden into use as a day
bomber, and once again this proved to be a completely disastrous decision.
Not only was there the plain fact that the aircraft was feebly armed, but the bombing
missions were more akin to close-air-support rather than level bombing, and this put the
Hampdens at even more risk than usual.
Yes, they were fast for a medium bomber, but German interceptors were faster and half the
time the Hampden’s didn’t get into action with a large, and necessary, altitude advantage
which made them easy pickings.
The AOC of No.5 group, Air Commodore Arthur Harris (soon to earn the nickname Bomber Harris)
tried to change matters by employing a company of agricultural engineers to quickly produce
mountings for twin Vickers K guns for the dorsal and ventral turrets.
This made the ventral gunner’s position very cramped, but it did at least double the
Hampdens defensive capabilities.
Additionally, side panels in the fuselage could be removed and in some aircraft this
was done to facilitate the mounting of additional machine guns for the equivalent of waist positions.
This further bolstered the Hampdens defensive capabilities, but most agreed that daytime
operations in areas known to have enemy air patrols would be out of the question moving
forward.
Eventually, the current of the war changed and the Hampden finally found itself being
used for its intended role, and in conditions that mostly favoured it for a change.
On the night of 19/20th March 1940, Hampdens took part in the first deliberate RAF bombing
of German soil – an attack on the enemy’s Hangars and slipways for minelaying seaplanes
on the Island of Sylt.
But a raid on the German homeland would not be coming for another two months.
With the start of the German blitzkrieg against Holland, Belgium and Northern France on the
10th of May 1940, RAF bombers made their first raids against military targets in Germany,
attacking road and rail junctions by night.
Following the heavy bombing of Rotterdam on the 14th of May, Hampdens were sent further
east to bomb targets in the Ruhr.
They formed part of a formation of almost 100 bombers on the night of the 15th of May
9 (a considerable force for this time in the war), but barely a quarter of this force actually
located their targets, and the accuracy of level bombing at this time meant that the
attack was largely ineffective.
After the fall of France, Hampdens once again found themselves preoccupied with naval targets
during the Battle of Britain.
Many were sent alongside Wellingtons and Whitleys to strike enemy shipping that was amassing
along the French and Belgian coast, in preparation for operation sealion.
Though rarely talked about, this was some of Bomber Command’s most dangerous work
during 1940.
Many of the ports that held the invasion barges were heavily defended by anti-aircraft batteries,
and losses inflicted upon bomber command were not inconsiderable.
But raids upon Germany and German Naval vessels were also carried out.
The docks at Kiel were a particular target.
On the night of 1-2 July, Hampden L4070 flown by Flying Officer Guy Gibson (later of Dam
Buster Fame) dropped the Hampden’s first 2,000lb bomb during a raid at Kiel with the
intention being to hit the German battleship (or battlecruiser, depending on your inclination)
Scharnhorst.
This raid, and several others like it, were unsuccessful, but it wouldn’t be the Hampden’s
last run in with German capital ships, more on that later.
By this point in 1940, production of the Hampdens had increased considerably and new squadrons
of the aircraft were being formed.
Production of the aircraft by Handley Page had actually ceased after the 500th Hampden
had been built, with company focus now being shifted on the Halifax heavy bomber, but English
Electric had carried on building the Hampden for a considerable time.
They would eventually produce 770 Handley Page Hampdens, and the first of the Canadian-built
models arriving in August 1940 would further bolster Bomber Command’s forces as well.
Many of the new Handley Page squadrons were formed from commonwealth aircrews.
No.455 RAAF, No. 408 & 415 RCAF, and No.489 RNZAF.
Though the Hampden would take part in the first RAF bombing raid of Berlin, with members
of 44, 49, 50, 61, and 83 squadron taking part, its use was not as widespread as that
of its contemporary, the Vickers Wellington.
This was partly due to the Wellington’s superior range, partly because of its superior
defensive armament, but mostly because the Wellington’s production run was ten times
greater than that of the Hampden.
Though the Hampden was technically a newer design, too much had been compromised in the
pursuit of performance.
And while yes, it was among the best manoeuvring aircraft of its class, Bomber Command had
quickly realised that range, bombload, and good defences are not things they wanted to
sacrifice for this advantage.
Thus By the middle of 1941 it was freely admitted that its usefulness as a frontline bomber
in the traditional sense was quickly running out.
Not only were the first of the new four-engine heavy bombers starting to filter into RAF
squadrons, but a combination of improved German anti-aircraft defences and the gradual development
of better night fighter tactics meant the Hampden was more vulnerable than ever.
That being said, the Hampden was still technically useful, and as Bomber Command’s strength
and confidence grew moving into 1942 it was loathe to part with them until they were utterly
past their prime.
Because of this, the Handley Page Hampden, along with the Vickers Wellington and Armstrong
Whitworth Whitley would find itself alongside much larger bombers during the first major
raids of 1942.
These included the 1,000 bombers raids on Cologne, Essen, and Bremen which happened
in late May and June.
Hampdens also continued to raid various ports where German warships were being moored, with
a bomber from No 44 Squadron scoring a direct hit on Gniesenau with a 2000lb, semi-armour
piercing bomb.
This did not sink the Gniesenau, but this attack, along with others did lead to the
decision to pull Kriegsmarine ships back to safer harbours.
And as a result, the Hampdens would also play a part in the embarrassing event that would
become known as the Channel Dash.
During this maritime episode, in which the German ships Scharnhorst, Gniesenau, and Pinz
Eugen merrily steamed up the channel towards their home bases, the Hampden formed part
of the air force sent to sink them.
Indeed, when the German ships were finally spotted- when they were almost abreast of
Dover itself-almost the entire range of bombers used by Coastal and Bomber command were sent
after the ships in one way or another.
In total, five squadrons of Hampdens would find themselves involved in the affair.
No 408s Hampdens were the first to attack the ships with bombs, followed by 455 Squadron.
The other three squadrons Nos. 50, 420 and 144 were thrown into the fight as things became
more desperate, but in many cases their Hampdens either failed to find the warships or their
attacks were severely hampered by low lying cloud – additionally, the German ships were
not defenceless.
Eight Hampdens were shot down by escorting fighters, and at least two more were downed
by the anti-aircraft batteries of the ships.
With the advent of the first Stirlings, then the arrival of the Halifax, and lastly the
Lancaster, Hampdens were progressively declared non-operational and withdrawn from Bomber
Command frontline operations.
The last raid in which Hampdens participated was that on Wilhelmshaven which was carried
out by aircraft from No 408 Squadron RCAF on the night of the 14-15 September 1942.
By then the Hampden had made 19,541 individual bombing sorties, and dropped 9,115 tons of
ordnance.
But they had suffered high losses, with 413 Hampdens shot down by enemy action and 194
being lost due to accidents, which in total accounts for just over a third of all Hampdens
that were built.
Though it was obsolete, the Hampden still had a part to play in training the Aircrews
that would soon be going into the larger, four engine bombers.
But, more importantly, its life was extended by some enterprising minds in the town of
Gosport, or more specifically the Torpedo Development Unit at Gosport.
Quite early in the war engineers at the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough had
suggested that the Hampen would be suited to the role of a torpedo bomber, and in 1941
with its obsolescence as a level bomber rapidly approaching, the Torpedo Unit at Gosport experimented
with up to five Donated Hampdens to develop what would eventually become the Hampden TB.MKI.
The torpedo selected was the 18 inch Mk.XII.
Two proposals were put forward: the bomber could carry two under the wings, or it could
carry one within the bomb bay.
As the first suggestion required modification to both the wings and bomb racks, mostly to
reinforce them, the decision was made to carry just the one torpedo instead.
The bomb bay was not deep enough to fully accommodate it, with the bottom of the torpedo
protruding by about three and a half inches.
To overcome the problem the centre bomb bay doors and their jacks were removed, and the
outer bomb bay doors were left open.
Though this modification led to increased drag, the all up weight of the Hampden remained
well within limits, coming it at around 23,500 lbs.
Additionally it was found during trials that the aircrafts range remained at 1,960 miles
and it could even carry a pair of 500lb or depth chagres bombs under the wings.
Following completion of the Torpedo trials, no.144 and 455 Squadron were transferred to
coastal command and had their aircraft modified to the TB.MKI type.
They were eventually followed by nos. 408, 415 and 489 squadrons, with 144 Hampdens in
total being converted.
Not a great deal is written about the Hampden’s use with Coastal Command, but one point of
note was the aircraft’s use in escorting Russian Convoys out of Murmansk.
The plan was for 144 and 455 Squadron to fly some of their Hampdens over to the Russians,
escort the convoy, and then train Russian aircrews to use the Hampdens and leave them
there.
On paper it seemed simple enough, in practice it was a nightmare.
Not only was the weather dangerous with icy cloud being a constant threat, which resulted
in the loss of no less than six Hampdens over Norway and Sweden, but…most Unfortunately,
the hampden shared some physical similarities with the Dornier Do17, particularly the long,
thin tail.
Combined with trigger-happy soviet defence fighters, this resulted in several friendly
fire incidents due to misidentification.
One Hampden was shot down, and two more were damaged beyond repair.
The only way of communicating that they were indeed friendly aircraft was for the Hampden
crews to lower their landing gear, and even then they still sometimes encountered sporadic
small arms fire from the ground.
After completing the escort of Convoy PQ 18, the 23 remaining Hampdens were handed over
to the Soviet Air Force.
17 Would eventually be absorbed into the 24th Anti-Shipping Wing, and they were used on
a number of operations between October 1942 and September 1943.
Though they successfully sunk a number of German ships, each loss could not be replaced,
and spare parts quickly ran low, which resulted in the wing being disbanded by the end of
the year.
A similar fate would befall the Torpedo Hampdens of Coastal command.
It was not a question of effectiveness, but more a question of parts.
Not only was maintenance and repair becoming more of a challenge, but it was felt that
the needs of the Hampdens being used by training squadrons were greater.
The more aircraft that could be used to train aircrews for use aboard newer, larger, and
faster bombers, the better.
And so, throughout 1943 the coastal command Hampdens were gradually replaced by Torpedo
carrying Bristol Beaufighters.
Those that weren’t condemned outright at being too warn out by wartime service were
then dispensed to the various operational training units.
A large number of Canadian-built Hampdens in particular found use in this role; of the
160 aircraft that were built in Canada, around 76 were retained as bombing and gunnery trainers
from the outset.
The last torpedo squadron to dispense with the Hampden was No.489 Squadron, who ceased
operating them on October the 26th 1943, bringing an end to the aircraft’s frontline career.
Though it was never a perfect fit for the medium bomber role the Hampden, along with
the Whitley and the Wellington, bore the brunt of Bomber Command’s use in the first half
of the second world war, often going against superior opponents and taking heavy losses.
During the summer of 1940, undoubtedly the Hampdens busiest time, two Victoria Crosses
would be awarded to service members serving aboard them.
The first was awarded to Flight Lieutenant Roderick Learoyd, who became the first Bomber
Command pilot to receive the VC.
On the 12th of August 1940, he piloted one of 11 Hampdens that were sent to destroy an
aqueduct over the river Ems.
Learoyd took his Hamden in towards the target at an altitude of just 150 feet, his cockpit
painfully illuminated by the German searchlights.
In the lead up to the drop point his aircraft took serious damage, which included a ruptured
hydraulic system that rendered the flaps and undercarriage useless.
Despite this, Learoyd pushed on with the bomb run and managed to nurse the crippled Hampden
back home.
He then patiently circled around his airfield until first light, believing the risk of a
night-time landing too great for his crew, and he landed without injury.
The second VC went to Sergeant John Hannah, wireless operator/gunner.
On the night of the 15th September 1940, his Hampden was over Antwerp when it received
significant damage from anti-aircraft fire.
A fire started and it quickly began to spread.
The rear gunner and navigator were forced to bail out, but Sergeant Hannah remained
and fought the fire with extinguishers.
When they ran empty, he continued to beat the fire with his bare hands, suffering severe
burns in the process.
Eventually he succeeded in extinguishing the flames, and he passed the rest of the mission
in quiet agony as the pilot took them home.
Because of its modest production run, its heavy wartime losses, and the eclipsing of
the Hampden by larger bombers later on, not many of them survive today.
Out of the three medium bombers used by Bomber Command at the start of the war, the Hampden
had the shortest service life, and its last years as a training aircraft meant that it
missed out on the heyday of the bomber offensives and fell out of the public mind.
Because of this, it was never considered for preservation, and almost all of the Hampdens
were eventually scrapped, or left to rot at the back of various hangars.
A single Hamden, restored from various parts, is at the Canadian Museum of Flight.
Another is being restored at the Royal Air Force Museum at Cosford, and one that was
recovered from a crash site in Sweden is being worked on as well.
But aside from that, not much else remains of Handley Page’s Flying Suitcase, though
it is beloved by aircraft modellers all the world over.
Once again thank you to war thunder for sponsoring today’s video, don’t forget to click on
the link below to sign up for free to claim premium benefits, and maybe you’ll see me
flying about, or driving about, or sailing about on the weekend.
As always, thank you all so much for watching, and a big thank you of course to the patreon
supporters, many of whom voted on the topic of today’s video.
Hopefully the quality of this video is okay, I had all sorts of problems with premiere
when I was editing this for whatever reason, but I think it should be okay.
A big thank you of course to the wing commander tier patreons, our highest tier members.
I should have the vote ready for next months topic of choice by the end of this weekend,
so keep an eye out for that.
But thank you all for your continued support, and I’ll catch you all next time.
Goodbye.