"The 100 Day Fighter."

This week marked the 70th anniversary of the bombing of Darwin and so appropriately, and as a tribute, I thought I would post this special memory of the "100 Day Fighter". Lest We Forget.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and the days didn’t come much darker than in 1942 for those on the edge of the Pacific War. Darwin had been bombed and sitting on the distant fringe of the Commonwealth, Australia was confronted with an advancing Japanese foe approaching its doorstep while the British Empire battled tyranny in Europe. To this backdrop the all-Australian Commonwealth Aircraft Corporation (CAC) Boomerang was born in little more than 100 days.

Born of the Times.

Britain was hard pressed to meet the production needs of its own Royal Air Force as 1941 drew to a close and the American industrial arsenal was still gaining momentum with its emphasis on the war in Europe and its own requirements. Australia’s small air force was already weakened with the deployment of front line squadrons and personnel to the European theatre. Only a threadbare force based in Malaya and a variety of non-fighter aircraft at home represented the nation’s air power.

Aware of the predicament and without a foreseeable means of bolstering their stocks, the decision was made to set about producing an Australian fighter and fast! At the time, the Commonwealth Aircraft Corporation (CAC) was producing the Bristol Beaufort bomber under licence and a derivative of the NA-33 North American Harvard, the Wirraway. At the helm of CAC was the highly regarded, Wing Commander Lawrence Wackett. Using the resources available to him and a contractual clause permitting modifications to the NA-33, Wackett and his time devised an aircraft that would be based upon the Wirraway.  This would minimise the requirements in design, manufacturing and tooling processes and open the door to use the Pratt and Whitney engine already in production for the Beaufort bomber. 

Designated the CA-12, the ‘Boomerang’ utilised the centre section, empennage, wing and undercarriage of the Wirraway, while melding it with newly designed forward section to accommodate the larger 1,200 HP radial engine. Gone from the Wirraway was the two seat configuration, replaced by a lone pilot, and the armament was moved to the wings in the form of two 20mm cannons and four .303 machine guns.

The net effect was a compact looking fighter whose appearance could be better described as stubby rather than sleek. Yet the achievement of its production and logic could not be argued with. When the first CA-12 flew in May 1942, it had taken only 4 months to grow from a concept to a living, breathing aeroplane. Furthermore, to a nation in danger of losing its supply, much of the supporting materiel was readily available to the commonality of design and production processes it shared with the Wirraway.

Flight of the Boomerang.

From its earliest flights, the Boomerang was earmarked for its manoeuvrability. When trialled against the Curtiss P-40, which the Australian government had ordered, it out-turned its highly regarded opponent and demonstrated impressive rates of climb. However, its stubby airframe was not conducive to speed and was inferior to the Kittyhawk in this critical department. This trait was further hampered by the CA-12’s engine’s tendency to overheat, resulting in flight with the engine gills partly open and creating drag.

Originally, labelled the CA-12, the Boomerang would evolve through the CA-13 and CA-19 to tally a production line of around 250 aircraft. There was even a lone super-charged CA-14 trialled in an effort to increase the top end speed of the type.

The Boomerang’s active service commenced in 1943 and primarily consisted of patrols and convoy escorts, though its limited range proved made certain sorties difficult. With the impending delivery of the faster Kittyhawk fighters, it seemed that the Boomerang’s days were numbered and would be remembered as little more than a stop-gap measure. Yet, just as the Wirraway had been the forerunner in the Boomerang’s design, it was to prove its predecessor in an operational sense too.

The Wirraway had been serving in New Guinea with the RAAF in an Army Co-Operation role. Operating at low level, they provided reconnaissance, artillery spotting and the first generation of Forward Air Control (FAC). The Boomerang now presented itself as an ideal replacement with better armament, manoeuvrability and a zippy rate of climb. While it may not have excelled in its original design role as a fighter, the Boomerang won the admiration of many of the troops in its close ground support tasking.

Operationally, the Boomerang slid into history at the war’s end with its final posting winding up in 1946. Interestingly, the Wirraway from which it was spawned found a new life post-war as an advanced trainer, much like the Harvard. As such, it continued to serve with the RAAF while its offspring was relegated to the scrap heap.

The Boomerang Comes Back.

The Boomerang now seemingly filled the gaps in books detailing military fighters, much as it had done in its active life. There was not much thought in the mid-1970s of seeing a Boomerang brought back to life, other than perhaps in the archive rooms of a national museum: and in the mind of a teenager named Matt Denning.

In 1975, at only 15 years of age, Matt convinced his father to purchase the bones of CA-13 Boomerang A46-122. It was a little more than a beaten up fuselage frame, but became the catalyst for one of the most remarkable restoration stories ever. Restoring what he had and scouring the countryside for any other components, Matt gradually worked towards restoring ‘122’ to static condition. With the assistance of many across the nation he amassed such a stockpile that in 1982 he decided to undertake the mammoth task of a restoration to flying condition.

With unrivalled persistence and determination, Matt Denning saw his dream take flight on Valentine’s Day 2003; 28 years after he had first acquired the airframe of A46-122. Today, ‘122’ is owned by the Temora Aviation Museum, but is still to be found gracing the skies with Matt at the helm.

Seeing Double.

For most, such an undertaking might wear the enthusiasm levels somewhat, but not Matt Denning. On June 26th a second CA-12 Boomerang (A46-63) rolled out from his Queensland hangar and took to the air for the first time since it forced landed in 1943 following an engine failure.

Though Matt took the historic aircraft into the sky, this time it has been restored for owners from South Australia. It is another immaculate restoration and credit to the man behind the Boomerang today.

Craftily, there has been a second seat fitted aft of the cockpit. In keeping with the quality of the restoration, this modification is virtually invisible to most observers, but enhances the practical use of the aircraft twofold.

The Stop Gap No More.

The Boomerang may have been borne of desperate times in an exercise of compromise, but it is better remembered as an aircraft of answers. It offered the Australian people an interim fighter when none was on the horizon and instilled a level of self dependence when the Empire seemed so far away and distracted. It displayed ingenuity at its very best to utilise existing parts and processes and deliver an aircraft from paper to ‘plane in around 100 days.

It remains the only fully designed and built Australian aircraft to see active service. While it may have only provided breathing space until the arrival of the P-40 Kittyhawk and the like arrived to re-establish a degree of air superiority, it found a vital role down amongst the jungle canopies of New Guinea. Those foot soldiers would not have seen the Boomerang as a ‘stop gap’, but more likely a saving grace.

Regardless of performance or role, the CAC Boomerang fills a special niche in aviation history. A niche that we can still be reminded of as restored examples of the little fighter weave across the sky and pay tribute to those who have gone before.

It was thirty years since I’d last sat low in a Mustang’s cockpit. At eight years of age there were very few other ways to sit. My father had hoisted me into the cockpit of a now retired steed as it sat in the darkened confines of Syd Marshall’s Air Museum at Bankstown Airport in suburban Sydney, Australia. Ever since his RAAF days, the P-51D and its Aussie equivalent had been my father’s favourite. More than the Meteors he had flown in Korea, or the Super Connies in which he’d criss-crossed the globe, it was always the Mustang. Leaning in, he explained the numerous dials and switches with military thoroughness. The systems and limitations poured forth from a razor sharp memory that would still forget to pick up milk on the way home.

I grasped what I could, but found my imagination drifting elsewhere. My head revolving as it moved its gaze from the enormous cowling ahead back to ‘check my six’….just in case. Now I again found myself swiveling at the neck. It was an Airshow day at a regional aviation museum and the atmosphere was charged. Taking in the sights and sounds of this fantastic opportunity, I spotted my wife in the crowd. In conspiracy with a chap I’d known for years, Guy Bourke, she had secretly arranged the wedding anniversary gift of a lifetime. I had never seen my wife so keen for me to go to a fly-in and the reasoning was now becoming very apparent.

The flight was to be made up of two sections. The first involved an air-to-air photo shoot in company with another fighter, the Australian Boomerang, and a trainer of yesteryear, the North American Harvard. At the conclusion of this sortie, ‘Bourkey’ and I would break off and take the Mustang to the west for airwork on its own. This had been briefed thoroughly pre-flight and the Harvard now led the three ship formation out to the end of Runway 36. Checks complete, we now sat beneath the closed canopy awaiting our turn for take-off. Throughout the procedure, Guy had kept me briefed and ‘in the loop’ through the intercom that linked the world of the rear seat to the fore. The aft seat had a spartan instrument panel of altimeter and A.S.I. to the right. To the left, at about the same height, lies the throttle quadrant. Ahead, the control column and rudder pedals complete the picture.

As the pristine Boomerang cleared the perimeter, Guy announced the departure and smoothly increased the abundant power of the V12. I have been fortunate to fly a number of aircraft over the years, but the sounds, sensations and sinking into the seat of a Mustang take-off takes some beating. As rudder authority increased with airflow, the tail was raised to introduce a new world of enhanced visibility. The ground rush in the peripheral vision began to change in focus as the ground fell away and the gear was selected up. All clear for the turn, Bourkey rolled this fierce piece of North American design to the left in pursuit of the formation. Closing on the two specs at an impressive rate, one couldn’t help but imagine how many times this scene had been acted out in skies around the world in a very different time.

With the Harvard serving as the camera ship, we slotted in to right echelon on the Boomerang. Sitting tight on the little Aussie fighter, it was easy to see the immaculate quality of the restoration. After weaving across the skies in formation for a period, it was time to break right and head west on our own. The land surrounding the airfield is custom built for committing aviation. Golden fields of crops, uninterrupted by the rising terrain that so often can pose a problem. Should all go quiet ‘up front’, potential landing fields are numerous, offering a special type of peace to the single-engine pilot. It is little wonder that this site was chosen as an Elementary Flight Training School throughout the war years and was home to a flock of Tiger Moth biplanes. Set to this backdrop Guy climbed the Mustang to a safe height and set about demonstrating some rolls and loops. Even tucked into the back seat, the brilliant visibility afforded by the bubble canopy allows tremendous orientation throughout the manoeuvres. As sky passed earth and back to sky, a sense of balance and power pervaded the aircraft. It was in its realm and roared across the heavens with the freedom of its namesake. I gratefully accepted control on Guy’s call of, “Handing Over” and proceeded to experience that freedom first hand.

I exercised the controls and the Mustang responded crisply to the inputs. Seemingly unencumbered by adverse yaw to any degree, the rudder is used as a tuning fork rather than a backhoe. Scanning the horizon and the skies, the aircraft holds the attitude as if set in stone and I take in the view and the ambience. All too soon, the minutes have ticked over and Terra Firma calls. We set the airfield in the windscreen and call inbound for an ‘initial and pitch’ entry, Runway 36. Circuit-side and parallel, we zoom along the bitumen before pulling up and left to enter the circuit. Power steady, the energy is managed and the drag deployed to position the aircraft on left base. Final calls, final checks and the Mustang sets its sights on the touchdown point under Guys hand. Over the fence, powering back and the wide track of the main gear reunites Man and Mustang with Mother Earth. As the speed washes off, the tail slowly lowers and the back of Guy’s head again dominates my field of view.

The exhilaration as we taxied in was hard to harness. Mindful of wingtip clearance, we navigated through a tarmac littered with a gallery of aircraft that one can only admire. In position and checks complete, power is withdrawn from this great machine and the huge disc dissipates to again form four distinct blades. Becalmed, with ‘switches off’, the adventure is over. Out of the blue a childhood dream had been realised and it had lived up to all expectations. As I took in the moment, I was that eight year-old once again and looked back to ‘check my six’ one more time...…just in case.