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Umbrella Switch. On Dday, Coningham expected the Luftwaffe, which had been hoarding its last ounces of strength, to throw everything it had left against the invasion fleet. The Allied air commanders had made an estimate of the amount of Luftwaffe opposition expected. When only 20% of this expected strength turned out for a fight, Coningham was surprised. He promptly switched a sizable part of his defensive umbrella to offensive operations and the Germans quickly found what it was like to fight against total air superiority.
Coningham's command responsibility on the Western Front covers two tactical air forces: the British Second, which he commands himself, and the U.S. Ninth, headed by Lieut. General Lewis H. Brereton, whose rough buccaneering spirit Coningham readily understands and approves. Brereton's Ninth is not only larger than the. Second; in number of planes and men, it is the biggest air force in Europe. This fact would make Coningham's position somewhat delicate, if he did not have a talent for friendly collaboration. He gets along famously with Brereton, who speaks his mind bluntly in conferences, and sometimes joshes Coningham on the amount of paper work which his greater responsibility entails. They work together with the easy good humor of a doubles team at tennis—now groomed for their greatest tournament.
Dark Hair to Grey. Sir Arthur Coningham has top qualifications for his command. R.A.F. crews who have fought under his guidance swear that he is the greatest tactical commander that ever pranged a Jerry; air experts generally agree that he is the best Britain has produced. Beyond all doubt he is the most experienced. For three years he has held a continuous operational command, longer than any other high-ranking British airman.
When Coningham arrived in North Africa three years ago to fight Britain's air war in the desert, his hair was still dark, almost black. Now, at 49, it is silver grey. But he has never lost an atom of his bouncing confidence, overflowing energy, infectious good humor. While ground commanders replaced one another as their fortunes ebbed & flowed along the Mediterranean shores, Coningham stayed on as the R.A.F. chief in the field.
In 1941 no British airman had a clear idea of what a tactical air force was supposed to do. Coningham, who had left a heavy-bomber post in Britain, was flexible enough to learn. He took over seven battered squadrons of Hurricanes and lumbering Blenheims from Air Vice Marshal Raymond Collishaw, whose motto had been "Let's fox 'em." That idea did not suit Coningham. He knew that Jerry had to be slugged out of the air.
Like his boss, General Montgomery, he was full of toplofty contempt for the Germans. He conceded that some German airmen in the desert were good, but considered most of them "poor stuff . . . incredible hoots." He called the then celebrated Stuka dive bomber an "overrated crate"—which it was.