No. 1426 (Enemy Aircraft) Flight RAF, nicknamed the “Rafwaffe”, was a small, slightly odd corner of Fighter Command that did a very practical job: it put captured enemy aircraft back into the air, painted them with RAF roundels, and then took them on tour. Aircrews could look them over closely, hear them, watch them fly, and learn what they could and could not do. It was half flying laboratory, half travelling classroom, and given its use of German aircraft in RAF hands, led to the affectionate Rafwaffe nickname.
The Rafwaffe nickname sometimes makes people think of cloak-and-dagger work. In reality, No. 1426 Flight’s value was plain and immediate. Recognition and tactics were not academic problems when a split-second identification might decide whether a pair of Spitfires turned inside a Focke-Wulf, or whether a bomber gunner opened fire on the right machine in the right place. The Flight sat at the point where intelligence, test flying, training, and morale met. It gave Allied crews the closest thing to a rehearsal.
What follows is a deep, joined-up history: how the Rafwaffe Flight formed, where it operated, what it flew, how it kept those aircraft serviceable, and what happened on the road.
History of No. 1426 (Enemy Aircraft) Flight RAF – aka the Rafwaffe
A unit born from opportunity
The RAF had been examining enemy aircraft since the early war years, with the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough acting as the main centre for technical evaluation, and the Air Fighting Development Unit running tactical trials. The missing piece was something more direct and more human: a way to put those machines in front of operational crews in a controlled setting, rather than leaving recognition to silhouettes, still photographs, and second-hand tales.
No. 1426 (Enemy Aircraft) Flight was formed at RAF Duxford on 21 November 1941. The choice of Duxford made sense. It was already tied into Fighter Command development and trials work, and it had the sort of infrastructure and local airspace that could support unusual flying without disturbing front-line business.
The Flight’s first line-up was modest and, by later standards, almost quaint: a Heinkel He 111, a Messerschmitt Bf 109, and a Junkers Ju 88 were among the early machines flown in RAF markings (hence becoming aircraft of the Rafwaffe. The job was not to hoard trophies. It was to circulate knowledge. Once a new type had been acquired, repaired, and wrung out for technical and tactical data, it could be handed to 1426 Flight so crews across Britain could see it with their own eyes.
By March 1943 the Flight moved from Duxford to RAF Collyweston, near RAF Wittering, and it is Collyweston that became most closely associated with the “Rafwaffe” in its mature period.
RAF Collyweston was not glamorous. It was useful: a satellite airfield, with room to park an eclectic collection of airframes, and close enough to established RAF infrastructure for support. Local memory has it as Collyweston’s last wartime claim to fame, precisely because German aircraft in RAF markings were not something Stamford villagers expected to see circling overhead.
From capture to classroom
A common misunderstanding is that 1426 Flight did all the serious testing itself. Much of the heavy technical work sat elsewhere. Farnborough in particular remained central for captured aircraft, especially as the war went on and systems such as radar and electronic homing became a battlefield of their own.
There was, broadly, a pipeline.
First came acquisition: forced landings, navigational mistakes, aircraft found abandoned, captures by Allied troops, and occasional defections. Then repair and examination, often with the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough and specialist work at other sites as needed. Tactical trials followed, usually with development units. Finally came demonstration and familiarisation, which is where 1426 Flight made itself useful, operating aircraft in RAF markings and taking them to the stations that needed to see them.
If you could have stood by a dispersal and watched the Rafwaffe Flight arrive, you would have understood its purpose instantly. These were not museum pieces. They were working aeroplanes, gathered so pilots, gunners, and ground staff could inspect the details that mattered in combat: cockpit layout, blind spots, armament positions, undercarriage stance, cooling arrangements, and the small cues that make recognition instinctive.
The airfields: where the Rafwaffe lived and travelled
A Flight that toured by definition left footprints all over the country, but its home bases and regular haunts are clear enough to sketch.
RAF Duxford (1941 to early 1943)
This was the starting point, tied into Fighter Command development flying.
RAF Collyweston (from March 1943)
Collyweston became the operational base for the touring period. It hosted the mixed collection and the maintenance effort that kept the aircraft flyable. It also provided something else: a degree of discretion. A small satellite field was a good place to run unusual aircraft without turning the station into a circus in the modern sense.
Royal Aircraft Establishment Farnborough and associated sites
Even when the Flight’s “address” was elsewhere, Farnborough appears repeatedly in the wider story as the place where captured aircraft were examined, modified, photographed, or used for trials and filming. Some aircraft also spent time at other airfields for specialised work, including night flying and radar trials.
Southern bases during the build-up to D-Day
As the invasion approached, the need for recognition and tactical understanding intensified, especially among units preparing for operations over the Continent. The Flight’s aircraft were used to familiarise Allied units in the south, including by flying past stations and formations so crews could see the silhouettes and attitudes of aircraft in motion.
Tour stops and dispersals
Surviving movement notes for individual aircraft show the touring nature of the job, with visits to a range of RAF and USAAF stations. The aircraft could arrive with friendly fighter escort, both for safety and to prevent fatal misunderstandings.
Tangmere and the end of 1426 Flight
By January 1945 the Flight’s role was winding down. The unit disbanded, and its function and some aircraft passed into the Enemy Aircraft Flight of the Central Fighter Establishment at RAF Tangmere.
The aircraft: the Rafwaffe’s flying collection
The Flight’s strength was never large in conventional terms. What made it remarkable was variety: fighters and bombers, single-engined and twin-engined, early-war and late-war, with oddities that arrived through sheer chance. Some types were famous because they survive today; others came and went, broken up for spares once the RAF had extracted what it could from them.
Messerschmitt Bf 109s: the spine of the collection
The Bf 109 was central because it remained the Luftwaffe’s standard single-seat fighter for much of the war. The Flight operated both early and later variants, giving RAF and Allied pilots a chance to compare what they were meeting in the air.
One early example was an E-model, a type closely associated with 1940. It offered something immediate: a chance to see the aircraft that had fought the Spitfire and Hurricane at close quarters, to understand how compact it was, how the cockpit sat, how the undercarriage legs gave it that particular stance on the ground, and how its systems were laid out.
The later G-models mattered in a different way. They were more powerful and often more heavily armed, and they appeared in a wide range of theatres. One well-documented aircraft in RAF hands was rebuilt from wrecked airframes and parts, then assembled and brought back to life in Britain. Its service with the “Rafwaffe” included comparative trials and mock combat against a range of Allied fighters. Those exercises were not parlour tricks. They were about knowing what an enemy fighter could do in a turn, in a dive, on the climb, and how quickly it could change direction.
The touring programme built around such aircraft combined ground inspection with flying display. It is easy to imagine the effect on a young pilot who had only seen a Bf 109 as a black dot or a gun-camera flash. Seeing it land, taxi, and park in front of him made the threat real, but also measurable.
Focke-Wulf Fw 190s: the hard lessons of 1942
The Fw 190 had given the RAF a rude shock when it appeared. It rolled quickly, hit hard, and for a period it outclassed many RAF fighters in certain manoeuvres and heights. Captured examples therefore had immediate value.
The RAF acquired Fw 190s through a mixture of forced landings, navigational mistakes, and battlefield recovery. Some were flown for trials and later used for familiarisation, including at Collyweston. At least one later Fw 190 in RAF hands arrived after a pilot became lost on a night operation and landed at an RAF airfield by mistake. That sort of accidental capture was typical of the “Rafwaffe” story. Chance delivered the aircraft, but organisation turned chance into training value.
Junkers Ju 88s: the bomber and the night fighter
No enemy type better fits the “enemy aircraft” concept than the Ju 88, because it came in so many forms: bomber, reconnaissance platform, torpedo aircraft, and night fighter. For 1426 Flight, it offered the big, unmistakeable twin-engined silhouette that bomber crews needed to recognise at a glance.
One Ju 88 in Rafwaffe hands came via a navigational error after a night raid, landing on a British airfield and being quietly absorbed into the evaluation system. Another, more famous, was a night fighter that ended up on British soil with advanced radar equipment. That aircraft was of great intelligence value. It went through technical evaluation and specialist trials before later joining the 1426 Flight “circus”, where it was used for familiarisation in the run-up to the invasion of Europe. In the summer of 1944, it was also used for film work, reflecting the way captured aircraft fed into training and instructional material.
Heinkel He 111: an early prize, and a grim reminder
The Heinkel He 111 had been a symbol of the air war over Britain in 1940. Captured examples therefore had obvious training value. But operating ageing enemy bombers was not safe. The history of the “Rafwaffe” includes fatal accidents, including the loss of a He 111 on a flight that killed the pilot and several passengers. It is a reminder that this work, though often described as a circus, carried hazards every time the wheels left the ground.
Messerschmitt Bf 110: the twin-engined fighter
Captured Bf 110s served both for recognition and for studying the handling of twin-engined fighters. They were useful for showing bomber crews what a twin-engined attacker looked like in different attitudes, and for examining features that distinguished it from similar silhouettes at range.
Henschel Hs 129: rare and worth showing
The Hs 129 was a specialised ground-attack aircraft, armoured and purpose-built. It was not common in the west, which made any captured example worth examining and worth showing. Its inclusion in the “Rafwaffe” story speaks to the Flight’s remit: not simply to familiarise crews with the most common enemy types, but also to give them a chance to see the oddities that might appear as the war shifted theatres and roles.
Messerschmitt Me 410: speed and sting
The Me 410 was a fast twin with the potential to be dangerous as a bomber destroyer and reconnaissance platform. Having one in RAF hands helped fill out the recognition picture and gave a basis for understanding an aircraft that could be misidentified at speed if you did not know what to look for.
Fiat CR.42 Falco: a biplane in the modern war
One of the most curious stories in the enemy aircraft programme is the Italian Fiat CR.42, a biplane fighter that ended up in RAF hands after a forced landing. It was repaired, examined, and flown in British tests, including mock combat. In the context of 1426 Flight, it serves as a reminder that “enemy aircraft” was broader than Germany alone, and that the RAF was willing to extract lessons even from types that seemed out of date.
The support aircraft: the unglamorous backbone
You cannot run a touring Flight on captured machines alone. Aircraft had to be ferried, spares collected, people moved, and the day-to-day practicalities handled. A small pool of RAF types provided that backbone, doing the work that never makes the photographs: the errands, the liaison trips, the transport of specialists, and the routine movement that kept the “circus” on the road.
How the touring programme worked
A 1426 Flight visit was an organised show-and-tell.
The aircraft would arrive, sometimes escorted by friendly fighters. That escort had a practical purpose. German silhouettes in British skies were a recipe for confusion, and nobody wanted a training sortie ending in a friendly engagement. Escort also helped with the optics on the ground: it reassured everyone watching that what they were seeing was controlled.
On arrival, crews could inspect the aircraft at close range. Pilots asked about cockpit ergonomics, visibility, engine response, and handling quirks. Gunners looked at gun positions and arcs of fire, and tried to understand how an enemy aircraft might manoeuvre to get its weapons on target or to escape. Ground staff looked at access panels, servicing points, and the way systems were packaged. These things were all tactical knowledge, just expressed through metal rather than a lecture.
Flying demonstrations followed. Nothing taught recognition like seeing an enemy type approach in a shallow dive, pull up, and bank away, showing its upper surface, its planform, and its underwing details in a sequence that resembled combat. The Flight’s aircraft also fed into training films and instructional work, because film could reach units that the “circus” could not.
The programme was not purely RAF-facing. Britain was full of USAAF units by 1943 and 1944, and American crews benefited from being able to inspect and watch the enemy aircraft they would meet over Europe.
Maintenance: the unglamorous miracle
The most impressive part of the “Rafwaffe” story may not be the flying at all. It is that the flying happened.
Maintaining captured aircraft was a constant fight. There was no smooth supply chain. Parts were often scarce, documentation incomplete, and the aircraft themselves were sometimes patched together from multiple examples. Some were rebuilt from wrecks, repaired with improvised components, and kept alive by ground crew who had to learn on the job with limited references.
Snags were constant: ignition problems, fuel system quirks, magneto issues, vibration, canopy and sealing troubles, and the peculiarities of German engineering when serviced by RAF methods and materials. A captured fighter might fly beautifully one day and refuse to behave the next. A captured bomber might need days of work for every hour in the air. Each sortie was therefore not only a training mission but also a maintenance gamble.
Even paint schemes were part of safety. These aircraft needed to be unmistakable. They wore RAF serials and markings, and sometimes additional high-visibility identifiers, because the only thing worse than confusing a captured aircraft with an enemy was doing so at the wrong moment.
Notable events, episodes, and losses
A history of 1426 Flight is incomplete if it only lists serials and airfields. The unit’s defining moments show why it mattered and what it cost.
Intelligence turns into training
The capture of advanced enemy equipment, particularly radar-fitted night fighters, created immediate intelligence opportunities. Technical specialists stripped those aircraft for information, tested the systems, and learned how the enemy was detecting and intercepting Allied aircraft at night. But the story did not end in a laboratory. Some of those same aircraft later toured to give aircrew a better sense of what they might face, and how to recognise it.
The spring 1944 “circus” tempo
The run-up to D-Day brought urgency. Units needed to be sharp on recognition and confident in their tactical understanding. The “Rafwaffe” tours at that time combined demonstrations with comparative flying, showing what an enemy aircraft could do when pushed, and what its limitations were when an Allied pilot made the right choices.
Accidents and the price of unusual flying
Enemy aircraft flying carried risks beyond the normal. Spare parts were scarce, systems were unfamiliar, and some aircraft were already old or worn by the time they entered RAF hands. Fatal accidents occurred, and the deaths of pilots and passengers underline a point that is too easily forgotten when we look back at the photographs: this was dangerous operational work, not showmanship.
One particularly painful loss involved a pilot killed when flying a captured Fw 190 that suffered an engine fire. That sort of death also stripped the Flight of experience. The men who could fly these aircraft well, and could talk about them clearly to operational crews, were specialists. They were not easily replaced.
Why it mattered
If you strip away the oddity of German aircraft wearing RAF roundels, 1426 Flight’s purpose was simple: reduce surprise.
Recognition training is about speed and confidence. A silhouette chart can teach shape, but it cannot teach scale as it looks through Perspex at 300 mph. It cannot teach the sound of an engine, or how a twin’s undercarriage sits when it is half-down, or what a fighter looks like when it rolls hard and shows its belly. A touring Flight could.
The Rafwaffe also did something subtler. It pulled the enemy down to size. Seeing a Ju 88 parked on your own station, climbing into its cockpit, asking a pilot what it felt like on approach, turns “the enemy bomber” into an aeroplane with strengths and weaknesses. That demystification matters when crews are about to cross the Channel.
The end of the road and the surviving legacy
By early 1945 the strategic situation had changed. The Luftwaffe was weakened, Allied forces were established on the Continent, and captured aircraft were no longer rare prizes. The Flight’s wartime role declined, and it disbanded, with its function passing into post-war structures that handled enemy aircraft within the Central Fighter Establishment.
What remained were the artefacts and the paper trails. Several “Rafwaffe” aircraft survive today in museum care, and the survival of those airframes has shaped modern understanding of the unit. They are tangible reminders of an unusual wartime practice: flying the enemy’s machines, not for bravado, but to teach people how to beat them.
