It might come as a shock how many World War II fighter planes seem to get pulled out of the woods. Every few years or so, a group of hikers, contractors, or prospectors happens upon old warbirds of ever-increasing rarity. This 81-year-old Supermarine Spitfire XIVE airframe, found in a hot, humid jungle in Thailand, is no exception. On further inspection, it might just be the most interesting warbird ever pulled from the mud.
Even among other Spitfires, pound for pound the most famous British fighter plane in history, serial number RM747 has a combat history and a prolific service career that should’ve seen it preserved as a prized museum piece. Instead, it embarked on a journey halfway across the world and wound up hidden from the people it once protected for decades. Sure enough, the XIVe wasn’t the same scrappy underdog the early Merlin-powered Spitfires were.
By the early 1940s, Spitfire engineers were already taking lessons learned from combat during the Battle of Britain and the Evacuation of Dunkirk to keep the platform competitive with German Focke-Wulfs and Messerschmitts. At the recommendation of the leading man at Rolls-Royce’s Aero Engine division, Earnest Hives, trials began in late 1941 on a new Spitfire variant with an even more powerful engine.
Like the Merlin, the Rolls-Royce Griffin was a liquid-cooled 12-cylinder engine, though it was originally developed not just for the Spitfire, but for a larger design initiative by the Royal Navy’s Fleet Air Arm to power a slew of emerging aircraft. Almost ten liters larger in displacement than a Merlin with a big, honking supercharger, later variants were upgraded to a two-stage, two-speed forced induction system far more adept at high altitude combat.
This particular XIVe variant was a direct countermeasure to advanced German mainline fighters like the Bf 109K-4 and the Fw-190D-9, but also more specialized, experimental foes like the Focke-Wulf Ta 152 interceptor and the Me 262 jet. It was derived from the earlier Spitfire XIV, and differs in the “E-Type” wing configuration, optimized for heavy 20 mm cannons and .50 caliber machine guns.
As early Griffon-powered Spitfires proved poor performers at high altitude, XIVs were the first to feature a twin-stage, two-speed supercharger to maximize air flow through the engine north of 25,000 feet (7,620 m). The canopy was changed to a bubble-top, in line with similar changes made by North American Aviation to the Spitfire’s US equivalent, the P-51D Mustang. It also featured underwing mounting points for bombs, matching the ubiquitous mounting rack underneath the fuselage.
Without drop tanks, these mid-to-late-era Spitfires could top 600 miles (965 km) of range, and reach 960 miles (1,540 km) on a single fill-up with 90-gallon tanks under each wing. At 29,500 feet (8,991 m), the 2,000-plus-horsepower Griffon 65 engine and five-blade propeller helped these Spitties top 450 mph (724 kph). Compared to the paltry ranges of earlier Spitfires, these later examples were altogether different animals, and certainly every bit the match for German planes, but even Allied planes like the Mustang.
Some Spitfire XIVs later had their cannon and machine gun armament swapped out for cameras and on-board film development stations to be used as reconnaissance aircraft. After the war, over 200 of these types were exported abroad. Some found their way to Belgium, others to the Royal Indian Air Force, where they’d go on to form the backbone of the newly independent Indian Air Force. At least 30 more recon variants wound up in the hands of the Royal Thai Air Force, and that’s precisely how this one wound up in the jungle.
Initially, RM707 was issued to a Dutch squadron operating out of the airbase at RAF Deanland near Hailsham in East Sussex. It arrived on August 5th, 1944, just in time to assist in the Allied push east to Germany after the landings at Normandy. At a time when a ragtag group of pilots from across the world flew with the RAF under the Commonwealth or governments in exile, a Belgian squad was the next to fly in.
Photo: Peter ArnoldRM747 spent the late summer of 1944 escorting Lancaster bombers over Northern France as the steady march towards Berlin continued. After a period of presumed undocumented repairs in late 1944 to ’45, RM747 wound up in the hands of the Australian Squadron 451. By the end of the war, the airframe was returned to storage in the UK, sold to Vickers Armstrong for reconditioning and eventual sale in 1950, and then transferred one last time to Thailand.
As for what happens after that, it’s pretty hard to say for certain. The Royal Thai Air Force might be one of the oldest in Asia, but without a paper trail connecting this Spitfire’s actions in Thailand to those in the UK, it’s anyone’s guess as to who ordered it to be dumped in a lush tropical region called Sawankhalok. Frankly, it’s a miracle that there’s anything left of it after spending the better part of seven decades at least immersed in a variable humidity bubble that rarely relents.
But there was one problem: was the prized warbird sitting before the team that found this wreck really RM747? On initial inspection of the sparse records and conflicting markings on some of the body panels, it was thought to be a different Spitfire entirely, serial number RM873. Flying with the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War II, as it turns out, both aircraft wound up in the possession of the Royal Thai Air Force at varying points afterwards.
Though the RTAF is one of Asia’s oldest aerial fighting forces by a large margin, its effectiveness in combat was largely tied to a continuous flow of imported parts from the UK. As years dragged on, it wasn’t uncommon for ground crews to cannibalize parts from one airframe for use on another. In the end, many Spitfires were ransacked by warbird restoration specialists and vandals after their service lives ended.
By the time it got there, there was little indication that the completed airframe helped the RAF fight the Germans back to their home turf decades ago. The entirety of the nose section is missing, just a few sections of aluminum remaining forward of the cockpit firewall. From the look of the pictures, it does serve as a pretty convenient stand for a piece of poster board covered in photos of what the plane looked like intact. Engine cowlings and a propeller were found with the wreck initially, but are long gone by this point.
The tail section still remains, though, dented and separated from the rest of the fuselage. The wings? Nowhere to be found from the looks of it. Probably chopped off and re-attached to a different, more airworthy Spitfire long before it wound up half buried under jungle brush. Inside the cockpit, you can stick your head inside and see parts of the floor through rust-pitted floorboards. All the cockpit glass is gone, and what remains of the airframe is covered in a deep patina.
It begs the question: Is there any way someone comes along who’s rich and skilled enough to restore this bird? Well, to flight-ready status, probably not. But we at autoevolution have seen firsthand how volunteers have pieced together the wrecks of two of the same airplane and fused them into one complete exhibit.
