the times | Tuesday September 15 2020 1GM 49
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Photojournalist of China’s
Cultural Revolution
Li Zhensheng
Page 50
High above the besieged Mediterrane-
an island of Malta, amid the savage air
battles fought during the summer and
autumn of 1942, Allan Scott experi-
enced a remarkable gesture from two
enemy pilots, an act of chivalry that
stood out and remained with him for
the rest of his days.
His Spitfire was attacked by two
Messerschmitt Me-109 fighters that
were escorting German and Italian
bombers raiding the British colony,
which was a key base during the mili-
tary campaign in north Africa.
Years later, Scott recalled the “most
fearful” nature of combat with the Me-
109, a single-engine fighter that had se-
riously challenged the RAF’s Spitfires
and Hurricanes during the Battle of
Britain. His mouth was often dry with
tension.
“These encounters happened in a
flash and were far too close for com-
fort,” he told John Nichol, the author of
Spitfire: A Very British Love Story. “Not
only did the hair stand up on end, there
was always the risk that a new pair of
trousers would be needed on landing —
as well as a cigarette or two.”
On this occasion Scott was engaged
by the two Luftwaffe fighters just above
sea level. He had destroyed one enemy
bomber, but had expended all his am-
munition. “Then, something extraordi-
nary happened,” he said.
“I was sitting on the tail of one of
them and unable to shoot. The German
pilots realised this. All I could do was
use the Spitfire in its defensive role and
keep out-turning them as they came
down. After several tight turns of get-
ting nowhere, they decided it was a
stalemate.
“To my utter amazement they came
in and, at a reasonable distance, took
formation either side of me and wag-
gled their wings. For that brief moment
we were no longer enemies, but fellow
aviators.”
The poignancy of the moment was
not lost on Scott. He was an experi-
enced fighter pilot, who was rather
good at killing enemy airmen. Flying up
to four sorties a day against formations
of German and Italian aircraft, Scott
hurled his machine around the Medi-
terranean skies for six months as the
battle raged. He was credited with
shooting down five enemy aircraft, as
well as seven “probables”.
The battle over Malta lasted for more
than two years, from June 1940, when
Italy first entered the Second World
War, until its climax in November 1942.
As Britain defended the island, more
than 2,000 Allied airmen were killed or
wounded. Afterwards, the people of
Malta were collectively awarded the
George Cross, one of Britain’s highest
awards for gallantry. Almost 1,500 civil-
ians were killed and more than 30,000
buildings destroyed. It became known
as the George Cross Island.
At the age of 99, Scott was the last
surviving Allied “ace” (an accolade be-
stowed on pilots who had shot down
five or more enemy aircraft) from the
Siege of Malta.
He was a charismatic man and a very
lucky one. In more than three years of
combat an enemy bullet never struck
his aircraft. In old age he wrote a mem-
oir, Born to Survive.
The youngest of four children, Allan
Scott was born in Liverpool in 1921 to
George and Mary (née Gabriel) Scott.
His twin sister, Lena, died aged four
during the influenza epidemic after the
First World War. His two brothers, Lau-
rie and Ron, would later lose their lives
in the Second World War.
Allan made his first flight in 1932
when he was 11, at an airfield near
Southport. His father paid two shillings
and sixpence for him to take a pleasure
flight in a Fox Moth biplane with SirAlan Cobham’s Flying Circus, which
toured the country. The boy was
“gripped” by the excitement of flying.
“I could not believe it was me, that it
was really me following the attendant
towards the Moth. My heart thumped
all the way,” he recalled.
He was helped up the ladder into the
small passenger cabin, similar to a train
carriage with bench seats facing each
other, and glanced out of the windows
looking at Southport’s flat, sandy
beaches. As the aircraft rolled forward,
Allan recalled that “incredible, magical
feeling of lift. We were in the air, we
were flying.”
The experience changed his life. He
set his sights on being a fighter pilot, but
his career path was not exactly straight-
forward. After leaving school, he be-In three years of combat
an enemy bullet never
struck his aircraft
Obituaries
Squadron Leader Allan Scott
One of the last Spitfire aces of the Second World War who won the Distinguished Flying Medal for his exploits in the Siege of Malta
TIM CLARKE/EXPRESS NEWSPAPERSAllan Scott, second from right, with members of 124 Squadron. In
his nineties he flew in a Spitfire again, saying you don’t forget howcame an architect’s ap-
prentice, then, as war ap-
proached, he saw his
opportunity. He present-
ed himself before an
RAF recruitment officer
in early 1940 and, a year
later, was posted to No
124 Squadron, flying
Spitfires from Biggin Hill
aerodrome in Kent.
“The first plane I shot
down,” he said, “was a
Junkers 88 not far from
Clacton-on-Sea in Essex.
I saw the crew bale out. If they baled
out, it meant the aircraft was destroyed
and you could claim it as a definite kill.”
He loved the Spitfire. “I wore the
Spitfire like an overcoat,” he said,
“totally at one with the aircraft... I
didn’t have to fly it; the Spitfire was fly-
ing me!”
After undertaking missions against
German targets in northern France in
1941, he was sent to Malta on the
aircraft carrier HMS Eagle in 1942 and
landed on the island during a heavy
air raid. Interviewed by the Times jour-
nalist Robert Crampton in 2018, Scott
was asked if he was frightened in the
skies over Malta. He replied: “We were
all frightened, but you didn’t show fear.
In combat, though, you’d get into a cold
sweat. I remember it trickling down in-
side my mask and into my mouth. I can
still taste it.”
Asked if he ever felt any remorse over
the men he killed, Scott said: “Not for amoment. No, never.” Did he feel any
guilt? “None, it was a job,” he said. Nor
did he suffer flashbacks or nightmares.
Indeed, he admitted he enjoyed the
war. “I loved flying and I liked danger,”
he said.
Scott survived three tours of combat
operations; after the siege ended, he
returned to Britain. He was transferred
to No 122 Squadron, flying long-range
fighters — the North American
Mustang — which escorted Allied
bombers attacking Germany.
He also collected his medal from
Buckingham Palace. While waiting to
receive the Distinguished Flying Medal
from King George VI (“I liked
him, which was a good thing when
you’re fighting for king and country”)
he was admonished by Princess
Elizabeth, the future Queen, who found
him smoking a cigarette on a
palace balcony. He reminded her of
that moment when they met again onthe 75th anniversary of the Battle of
Britain.
Scott became a test pilot, and re-
mained in the RAF long after the war,
but he almost lost his life in 1953 when
he crash-landed in a Tiger Moth train-
ing aircraft. He suffered grave injuries
and needed reconstructive surgery on
his face.
He regarded the RAF as “family” and
met his wife, Patricia (née Harper),
when she was also in the air force. They
were married in 1948 and remained to-
gether for 64 years until her death in- The couple had a son, Murray,
who became a sales account director.
Retiring from the RAF in 1976, after a
career in which he flew more than 80
types of aircraft, Scott continued to fly
light aircraft from Sleap airfield near
his home at Wem in Shropshire, some-
times as a co-pilot, well into old age. He
also campaigned hard for the Royal Air
Force Benevolent Fund, which looks
after veterans.
In later life, he became something of
a celebrity, a regular guest at reunions,
parades and book launches, where, in
recent years, he could sometimes be
seen with his partner, an American
woman called Josephine, who was in
her eighties. Scott and his
wife had been friends with
Josephine and her hus-
band, Jack, for many years.
They both had holiday
homes in southern Spain.
When their spouses died,
friendship turned into a
transatlantic romance.
Scott gave up smoking
after the war, but enjoyed a
couple of glasses of red
wine whenever he went
out for a meal. At one time
he had a Norton motorcy-
cle and never lost his love
of speed. In his nineties he
drove a rather sporty
Mercedes SLK 250, exer-
cised on a treadmill and
swam.
A few years ago he
moved to a retirement home in Oxford-
shire, which he shared with a cat called
Patsy, so that he could be closer to his
son. His living room was almost a tem-
ple to the Spitfire, full of paintings and
models of the aircraft.
Five years ago, at the age of 94, he
once again flew in his beloved Spitfire,
a two-seater from Biggin Hill, where he
had started his operational career in- As the Merlin engine roared into
life, the smile on Scott’s face broadened.
“I did a few steep turns to see if I could
still cope with the G [force],” he told
Crampton. “Then I rolled it. You don’t
forget how to fly. I loved it.”
So much so, indeed, that he had ar-
ranged to make the same flight next
year on his 100th birthday. Sadly, it was
not to be.
Squadron Leader Allan Scott, DFM,
fighter pilot, was born on July 27, 1921.
He died on September 8, 2020, aged 99Princess Elizabeth told
him off for smoking on
a balcony at the palace
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