The story of how this inter-war biplane came to be restored — and it’s up for sale
Occasionally you may hear of someone coming across a ‘barn find’ aeronautical treasure in a dark and dusty corner. This is what happened five years ago. New Zealand is known for its restoration experts of world renown, such as Avspecs, famed for its Mosquito projects, Pioneer Aero, likewise for its P-40s, and of course The Vintage Aviator, specialising in First World War aeroplanes. Not to be forgotten is the Subritzky family, with its static array of inter-war, Second World War, jet-age and helicopter airframes. While chatting one day with Steve Subritzky, son of collection founder Don, he mentioned that if ever we needed a project, then Charles ‘Bunny’ Darby was the go-to man. After tracking him down, luckily he was at a place and time of his life where he was prepared to show us a long-hidden gem.
We opened an old shipping container, pulled out P-40 drop tanks and various boxes, and climbed over all sorts of radios and parts. What we revealed were the untouched remains of an all-metal biplane and extra components collected over the 40 years since it was found. Having only a mobile ’phone torch to see with, we struggled with the mangled wing sections that were hiding much of the obviously battered fuselage behind. Then, there it was: the last surviving Fairey Gordon inter-war light bomber, much talked-about but never shown in public.
From archival references provided by the RAF Museum and others, we know this aeroplane, serial K2759, served for 10 years with the RAF. It operated in Iraq, Sudan, Egypt and of course the UK before being a part of an emergency shipment to New Zealand in 1939, upon the outbreak of war. The airframes were already worn and obsolete, so were meant only to be a stop-gap until more modern equipment became available. For this reason, they served for a very limited time with the Royal New Zealand Air Force. K2759 became NZ629, being assigned to No 1 Service Flying Training School at Wigram near Christchurch.
On 12 April 1940, two young trainee pilots took NZ629 on a ‘war-load climb’ to 15,000ft above New Zealand’s southern Alps. Without oxygen, they temporarily lost consciousness and, on coming to, couldn’t regain control, so prepared to bail out. LAC Walter Raphael stated that after he let go of the controls to unbuckle, ’629 straightened itself up, flew through the cloudbase and mushed into trees on Mount White. The crew survived, albeit badly injured, and were rescued a week later.
The propeller sheared off and still has entry bullet holes through the front of the tip, which may be from the pilot’s Vickers machine gun firing on impact. The RNZAF salvaged the Vickers and Lewis guns, Armstrong Siddeley Panther engine, the gauges from both the cockpit and gunner’s bay, and all undamaged fittings of value before putting axes into the fuel tanks and leaving what remained hanging in the trees.
Fast-forward to 1979, when Bunny Darby and friends — including Don Subritzky — trekked into the dense bush with the permission of the owner/farmer, in search of the remains purely for adventure’s sake. The crash site did not reveal itself easily but, after a few unsuccessful trips, they decided to climb a hill to see if they could get a backwards view from high ground. To their surprise, they found a trail of aluminium panels there as ’629 had travelled up this hill and then gone over the top. It was found in the trees soon afterwards by following the wreckage trail and broken forest canopy. Bunny requested and received personal written permission from the then New Zealand minister of defence to salvage the Gordon. With the help of an Aérospatiale Lama helicopter provided by Bill Reid, it was carried out and then stored away in his parents’ garage.
Bunny took a bit of convincing but allowed us to assess the wreckage if we would supply modular shelving and repack his non-associated parts hoard into another container at the same time. A very hot day was spent doing a parts jigsaw puzzle, overseen by ex-RAF Sqn Ldr Jonathan Pote who had much past experience of similar discoveries. His analysis was that a lot of the Gordon had been damaged beyond repair to flying condition by the elements, the crash itself and rough handling by the RNZAF salvage team in 1939. The engine was missing, but there was definitely a viable static project here.
After negotiating a deal with Bunny and finding a new home for the wreckage and parts, one detail awaited before the project could advance fully. New Zealand’s Department of Culture and Heritage was given an application to export the parts, which was eventually approved. From then on it has been a case of ‘full steam ahead’.
Many years back, Bunny had negotiated with a Canadian museum to receive two Armstrong Siddeley Jaguar engines, an earlier version of the 14-cylinder Panther radial, formerly used on Royal Canadian Air Force Armstrong Whitworth Siskin biplane fighters. The agreement was that one was to be restored to display condition and returned to Canada, and the other kept for the Gordon project. We were able to pull out of retirement Frank Hannay, who served for 50 years with TEAL, National Airways Corporation and Air New Zealand, to pull down the engines and manage their restoration in his home workshop. Using this engine type would effectively make the aircraft akin to two civilian-operated examples of the Gordon’s direct forebear, the Fairey IIIF, which were used by the Air Survey Co in Sudan, and serial J9154, on which a trial Jaguar installation was made. Both manifolds turned out to align perfectly with the existing exhausts.
We travelled to the Fleet Air Arm Museum at Yeovilton to get advice from curator Dave Morris and gain an insight into the sympathetic restoration processes it had developed on its Grumman Martlet, Vought Corsair and Fairey Barracuda. The museum has in storage an unidentified three-seat rear fuselage frame and some floorboards from a version of the IIIF called the Seal, which was operated extensively by the FAA. Dave generously let these be viewed ‘after hours’. His comment was that we have in our hands a ‘holy grail’ of an historic aeroplane find and should be very careful not to do too much that may destroy its originality. This counsel has been considered religiously ever since.
Once back in New Zealand, planning of the project was organised in stages. We were careful to designate the tasks to people who knew not to replace or fabricate parts without strict guidelines, or indeed not to damage any flake of paint, wiring, plumbing, serial numbers, rivets or fabric. Wherever possible, all was to be left untouched and comprehensive photographic ‘before and after’ records kept. There have been times when jobs have been stopped before we risked going too far, and we are very proud of the results achieved to date.
The first phase was to deconstruct and straighten the fuel tank/oil tank section, which had taken the brunt of the impact. On the port side, the majority of structural members were either badly twisted or split in multiple places, while the hold-down racks and tanks themselves were crushed, torn, compressed and distorted. The decision was made very early on to merely straighten as many of the original parts as we could, and with much experimentation we found a way to do what we call ‘flitch, stitch and splint’. All breaks in the tubular structure were cut at the damage point, ‘flitched’ with welded, lathed steel inserts and painted bright green to identify the originals from repairs. Most reconditioned original bolts and fasteners were placed in the position they were removed from.
A lot of the original fuselage exterior panels had survived, but they had all been badly crushed or unsympathetically cut by the RNZAF salvage team. With the help of sand-bag beating and an English roller, as well as ‘stitching’ plates behind any rips, they were pulled back together. Any original but suspect structural members were reinforced by welding — ‘splinting’ — half-tubes of larger-diameter steel over them. This has resulted in an almost complete and original starboard-side fuselage, belly and lower wing-step with genuine paint.
Over the course of a year, the front section was straightened sufficiently to mount the engine and propeller. To this end, we had the original Panther engine mount that was hacksawn off more than 80 years ago. Luckily the ends were still attached to the firewall fittings, so this was a simple exercise of getting Mike Ensor and his team at Three Sixty to ‘flitch’ them together and fabricate an adapter ring that would connect the Jaguar engine to the Panther mount. We decided not to install the original firewall as it was an asbestos cloth sandwiched between aluminium sheets, and leaving it off will allow a better view of the rear of the engine through the starboard side.
The whole of the port side and some underside panels have been fabricated and painted silver. They fully enclose those areas of the structure. In addition, the upper cowls, which were in quite good condition, are now fitted. The fabric was laid over a tubular frame that was ‘stitched’ into the broken, but mostly surviving original, side ribs, and the original silver RAF livery completes the aeroplane nicely.
The propeller having sheared off, the spinner is one of the few items that had to be built new. Three Sixty was again asked to help, employing old-school blacksmith skills to repair the crushed, flat and bent exhausts with heat and anvils, while retaining their aged patina. Such was the company’s craftsmanship that many of the fuselage structural members were assigned to it too.
Frank Hannay set to what remained of the undercarriage oleo legs, which were either broken in half, crushed or missing. He was able to build a complete starboard-side gear leg from original parts and to use 50 per cent fabrication on the port side. We were very surprised when opening the hydraulic cylinder to find the oil still looked usable and the piston in as-new condition.
The next part of the programme was where all the elements took shape. We had a front section with engine and propeller installed, as well as the undercarriage. Posing a dilemma was a whole bay of frame longerons that would connect this to the rear fuselage, which comprised the cockpit, gunner’s bay and a tail that still didn’t exist. We were able to attach the repaired side bay panels to the cowling turn button rings and to measure the lengths of the longerons, so once fabricated and fitted, for the first time in almost 80 years, we raised the Gordon onto its wheels.
Repairing, fabricating and ‘stitching’ together a complete fin, rudder and tailplane represented another successful endeavour. The tailplane on the port side was relatively complete and very quickly made ready for a fabric covering, while it was decided to leave the starboard side in a ‘bent’ diorama-type state. The fin and rudder were swept away when the aircraft hit the trees, but the parts found were sufficient to build them up from new and ‘stitch’ in the surviving elements. The result looks very realistic.
In contrast with the completely covered port side, the starboard side shows the crash story and detail of the airframe’s original patina, with a mostly open view of the cockpit, engine, gunner’s bay and rear fuselage. The latter has been untouched on purpose as it reveals wiring, cables and the remains of the flotation bags.
One part that needed a lot of work was the centre section, which was complete but badly compressed at all four corners as well as being rusted and with many frames bent. Components were drilled out or unbolted and, using heat, straightened and refitted. Panels were beaten sympathetically and care taken in not replacing any of the internal structure or skins, as well as re-stowing the lifting cables into the roof. The bracing wires were all located in a bundle, so they were given just a light buffing of the surface rust.
Another of Bunny’s windfalls was a Fairey Swordfish rear gunner’s Lewis gun mount, which was modified to work very well. The original fixed, forward-firing Vickers gun mount was left in place in 1939 and Bunny’s gun fitted into the brackets without adjustment. He provided a period radio that has been wired into the surviving racks.
On, then, to the cockpit. The leather cockpit rim, seat back and headrest had survived in a dried-out state, but were too valuable to allow anyone to rest against them. We had a local expert, Sofa Doctor, perform restoration processes that returned the moisture into the leather on the back padding; we chose to keep the headrest untouched to show the as-found condition of both. New leather has been sourced from a batch left over from some seats made for Auckland’s SkyCity Casino, which had been artificially distressed — perfect for the look we are seeking to achieve.
From the seat back, after many weeks of repeat application of preservative oils, it could be seen how quickly the RNZAF had applied yellow paint by hand over the RAF livery thanks to the paint splashes visible on it. This item has been stored between cardboard sheets. Information can furthermore be gained from the perished but very interesting fabric back with woollen padding and stitching details.
We had a very good archive photograph of the pilot’s instrument panel and wanted to represent it, so we decided to get Three Sixty to make some gauges using CNC (computer numerical control), found some appropriate 1930s-style switches and mounted them into a handmade panel. The control grip was sculpted out of wood by the author from a parts manual drawing — it was then cast in aluminium by Sika, with a working Vickers gun trigger, while the front visor was given new Perspex. The original bomb release controls were still in place, and Bunny Darby had found a set of throttles which have been installed.
Given that the original headrest has gone untouched, we chose to keep the small, aged, brown remnants of screen plastic within the headrest gunner’s visor, again to show the condition of both this and the front visor as we found them. The Vickers ammunition box had been left behind by the RNZAF salvage crew and simply fitted back into its brackets beneath the pilot’s feet. We have the pilot’s rear view mirror, but will need some help on where and how it was installed as we haven’t seen one on any of the photos we have. It is an original, as it is shown in the parts manual. Don Subritzky generously loaned a gunsight from his Vickers Vincent project to be copied.
Knowing the stories behind the airframe, crew, crash and salvage, we have come upon certain relics that have special relevance. Unbending a crushed aluminium pocket in the gunner’s position, we found a screwed-up RNZAF temporary loan form for the Lewis gun, filled out in pencil with the storeman’s and borrower’s name and rank. This has been put into a double-sided Perspex frame, and we are sure whichever museum finally takes the aeroplane will have an expert restore it.
The floor of the gunner’s compartment acted as a roof after the crash, because ’629 was hanging upside-down in the trees. Thus, the remnants of the original flaxen mat remained in place. As we know Wilfred Everist was the more badly hurt of the two men on board, maybe the dark stains on it come from his injuries? He was carried by Walter Raphael to a shearer’s hut. In June 1941, Everist was shot down in his Hurricane over France, aged just 23.
We had enough wing components to make up a complete and straightened port-side set. The main spars were wrecked but were tri-rolled, so it was a simple matter of cutting at the breaks and bends to feed pipe into them with tack welding. The wings are 21.32ft (6.5m) long but were hinged for aircraft carrier use, so we see the folding action as a very desirable viewing, space-saving and technological attribute for any collector or museum. New hand-built ribs are incorporated among originals; all the main spars, ailerons, camber flaps, interplane struts, bracing wires and fittings survive. It has been our decision to put fabric on the upper surfaces only, to display the colour scheme and roundels, but to leave the under-surfaces exposed for ease of viewing and interest.
This Gordon is a unique specimen of the specific type and a very rare survivor of the Fairey III family, deservedly dubbed an inter-war workhorse. In different versions and roles, the series served in all regions of the British Empire for more than a decade, while this example flew in the Middle East for most of its RAF career, probably supporting policing and patrol activity. Its importance from a technological point of view is likewise significant, as one of the first British aircraft to have its specification modified to transition from a wooden airframe to all-metal. Then there is a royal connection: the then Prince of Wales, later King Edward VIII, made the IIIF his steed of choice while serving in the RAF.
We are a team of restorers who are proud to be part of the historic aviation scene, and to have played a role in K2759’s journey which has ensured the type’s survival. It’s been a great privilege.
