"MIRACLE MAN OF THE AIR"

New Zealand Listener, Volume 5, Issue 117, 19 September 1941, Page 7

"MIRACLE MAN OF THE AIR"

By

A. W.

HELLIWELL

in

" Parade," the Weekly Journal of the Middle East Command

-_--- N America, that land of pict slang, they would call the famous legless pilot, Squad-ron-Leader D. R. S. Bader, D.S.O., D.F.C., a "Birdman." He has never had any other ambition except to fly. He went straight from school to the R.A.F. College at Cranwell

as a cadet, and at the age of 21 he had already made a name for himself as one of the most daring stunt aces. Fear had-or has-not any place in this remarkable young man’s lexicon. They say he can make a ’plane do anything but talk. Thousands were thrilled at the old Hendon air pageants by his wonderful flying. But it seemed he had dared once too often when he crashed at that Reading air field. Even though he survived, no one thought he would ever fly again. The tragedy was all the greater because he had been such a brilliant athlete. He Wouldn't Be Beaten He was a magnificent Rugby footballer-one of the best scrum halves ever to play for the famous Harlequins, and was certain of his international cap. He had played cricket and squash for the R.A.F. and showed great promise as a boxer and cross-country runner.

Legless, it seemed that the two things for which he lived-flying and sport-_ must be denied him, but Bader made up his mind that he would not be beaten. A few months after his crash, taking his first hesitant steps .on his new legs, he was already making plans. "T haven’t a leg of my own to stand on," he grinned, "but I'll still get by."

He even refused to use a stick to help him. As soon as he was fit enough he went to’ work as a traveller-in an especially adapted car-spending every penny he could save on flying lessons. Within nine months he had fulfilled his vow. He was flying solo again-a fully qualified civil pilot. Immediately Bader applied to be taken back into the Service. It was his first, his only, love. But they would not have him. Disappointed but not discouraged, he continued to fly. He played cricket, tennis and squash again, doing everything possible to prove that he was as useful without: his legs as before. Not Good Enough When war broke out he tried to join up again. He begged, argued, pleaded and cajoled. " Just give me one chance," he asked. " That’ll all I need." At last his dogged persistence, or perhaps it was his obvious sincerity or the light that gleamed in his eyes as he argued, impressed the Board. They decided to.give him a test. Bader passed with flying colours, and as a result he was offered a "commission and a job as" a taxi-pilot-flying aircraft from factories . to airfields and similar duties. That was not good enough for him. "TI want to be in the fun," he said. "Give me a fighter ’plane to fly." He got his own way in the end. Back in the Air Force blue once again,

with the precious wings sewn over his left breast, Bader was the happiest young man in the world. The eight-gun Spitfire in which he rode the skies was the apple of his eye. With his metal legs on the rudder bar he flew it with all his old dash and brilliance and promotion came swiftly. In a little more than six months he had command of his present Maple Leaf squadron of young Canadians. His Legs Were Bent! Only a few months ago his engine failed as he came in over the airfield and he crashed lightly. They pulled him out with both metal legs badly bent. The. legless wonder of ‘the skies grinned as he squatted on the grass waiting while the artificer carefully straightened: them. "It’s a good job I’ve got tin legs," he joked, " otherwise I should be booked ‘for a few months in splints instead of a ten-minutes’ wait." Twenty minutes later he was in the air again. Now he is a prisoner in Germany, and the whole world knows the story, equally creditable to both sides, of the arrival in the prison camp of his spare leg.