The gaucho who fought the Nazis. He grew up in Neuquén, became a fighter pilot and was an “ace of the air” in the Second World War
By: Claudio Meunier
La Nación
The lineage of a fighter pilot in the desert, symbolised in this well-known shot of De Larminat for Allied propaganda. (Claudio Meunier Archive).
In the endless wait, Bernardo De Larminat looks for his cigarettes. His fingers feel an envelope; he remembers that he must open it and read it. He takes it out with his trembling hand; he has not yet fully recovered from his first bout of Malaria which, days earlier, plunged his body into a dense drowsiness of fever.
He opens the envelope and, with his mouth, holds a small lit torch. The message, dated 25 August in London, comes from the Argentine Consulate General. They invite him to continue his paperwork for an extension regarding compulsory military service in Argentina. He laughs out loud; his comrades look at him; they do not understand what is happening to him. He knows that in days or hours he could be dead. The life of a combat pilot in the desert is short, too short. But, we bring forward the end of the story, Bernardo will not die (nor will he do his military service in Argentina).
Note from the Argentine Consulate in London issued on 25 August 1942 that arrived in Egypt shortly before the start of the second battle of El Alamein against the German forces in October 1942. (Claudio Meunier Archive).
Born on 25 December 1920 in Buenos Aires, Federal Capital, he was baptised Bernardo Noel Marie De Larminat. He is the son of Santiago De Larminat, a Frenchman, a pioneer of Patagonian development at the beginning of the 20th century.
Bernardo spends his childhood at the distant Estancia Cerro Los Pinos, the family home, a paradisiacal tract of land in the geography of the province of Neuquén. His life, marked by rural activity, keeps him far from any contact with civilisation. And, even less, with aviation.
The Second World War motivates him. Principles of other times: chivalry, representing France through his volunteering and the defence of democracy, for our country, Argentina.
Determined to become a volunteer, he tries to join the Argentines who converge on a training camp in Canada where the “Free French” of General De Gaulle gather.
However, the passenger ship that transports him houses another group of idealistic Argentines with whom he strikes up a friendship and they, too, are going to war in Canada, but with another direction, to a flying school.
The group’s unanimous objective is to obtain the brevet and become Canadian combat aviators. Bernardo joins the initiative and for the first time in his life thinks about something he has never paid attention to: flying.
A Toronto newspaper reports on the Argentine volunteers who join the Canadian army to fight in the Second World War.
Accepted into the Royal Canadian Air Force, he must begin his flying instruction. Then he discovers an obstacle he had not foreseen, which blocks his way: he does not speak English. But his lack of knowledge of the language will save his life.
While his Argentine comrades of British stock advance easily, Bernardo is sent to acquire basic knowledge of English. To his disappointment, while he begins as an aviation cadet, his comrades receive their aviator wings and are sent to the European theatre of war.
Bernardo only receives his aviator wings on 6 December 1941, a few months later than his comrades. His instructor suggests to him:
—De Larminat, very good effort. Don’t go to the bombers; your Argentine comrades have almost all died on operations. Don’t get yourself killed; you know what to do to avoid it.
The best averages of each intake enjoy a unique benefit: they can choose the speciality they want to develop. Flying fighters or bombers. The curious thing is that the great majority of requests are denied or receive a contrary answer. Bernardo, who was a standout cadet, tests his luck: he requests to fly bombers. The answer does not surprise him: his wish is rejected and they send him to train as a fighter pilot. The trick works.
Bernardo de Larminat was born in the Federal Capital, but was raised in Neuquén. He took part in more than 300 combats, first with Canadian aviation and afterwards with De Gaulle’s “Free French”.
Take-off of Captain De Larminat in a Spitfire Mk. VIII during 1944 when he was acting Flight Commander of Squadron 417. (Claudio Meunier Archive).
On 7 December 1941, one day after obtaining his wings, Bernardo is shaken by news that comes over the radio: Japanese aviation carries out a massive attack on the American fleet moored at Pearl Harbour. He listens to President Roosevelt’s speech in which he declares war on the totalitarians of Europe.
Bernardo becomes a fighter pilot at 21 and flies one of the most advanced aircraft of his era, the last word in technology, the mythical Spitfire. Two years later, after calling at different flying schools perfecting himself in air combat, he is deployed first to Europe and later to North Africa. On 19 April 1943, being a veteran of the air, some miracle works on him and he avoids his first encounter with death (eternal and silent companion, it will stalk him until the end of the conflict). During a patrol flight, his flight commander bellows over the radio in a single shout:
—Half-turn to the left, German fighters!
Bernardo responds with an instinct —a thousand times rehearsed— and makes a violent turn. He evades the rain of shots falling from above. His comrade, flying in front of him, does not have the same luck and is shot down. Trapped in his Spitfire. Bernardo looks around; he has been left alone, surrounded by at least twenty-five enemy fighters. He desperately searches for his comrades, but they have vanished in the sky. The German fighters occupy his world: they are below, above, everywhere. He fires at one of them and misses. He attacks another with no result. There are so many that he can choose. He opens fire on several that rush quickly in front of his sights and hits one of them.
Practically at the same time, a strong explosion shakes his Spitfire. He feels a lash in his left leg that tears his foot off the control pedals. Yes, he has been hit.
Bernardo De Larminat aboard his Spitfire carrying out a patrol over the Tunisian desert. (Claudio Meunier Archive).
He is surrounded, over enemy territory. He flies hemmed in by Messerschmitt 109 fighters, an aeroplane that in the hands of a good pilot means certain death. Locked in an invisible cage, Bernardo believes he is living his last seconds of life. He takes advantage of the opportunity; he knows that if they fire on his aeroplane it is likely they will hit each other. Captain Gerhard Michalski, leader of the German group, realises the disorder and how the Spitfire is taking advantage of them at that moment. He orders a few to fly behind the lone Bernardo to shoot him down.
But the Argentine pilot attempts his last manoeuvre before dying: he pretends to lose control of his Spitfire and throws himself into a crazed descending spiral. Michalski and his pilots watch the aeroplane’s fall as it dives into some clouds and then disappears. Bernardo emerges below the clouds only to add more misfortunes to the events and regains control of his aeroplane just in time, before dying embedded against a hill he passes scraping. He escapes at low altitude, reaches the coast, continues across the plains of Tunisia, sights an aeroplane: it is a German Stuka bomber on a training flight. He opens fire and continues without being able to see what happens to his adversary. He flies at low altitude; the anti-aircraft batteries of the nearby enemy aerodrome fire at him; they also want to end his life.
Bernardo manages to reach the base, Goubrine, south-west of Tunisia, where his mechanics receive him. When he stops the engine, he hears several cries; the shouts multiply and his alarm grows. The petrol tank, which is located in front of the cockpit, has an enormous hole. Had it exploded, it would have turned him into a mass of flames. He has another hit on the engine, a direct shot that would have made him blow up into the air. But De Larminat, bearer of the lucky star of destiny, evades death.
Bernardo Noel Marie De Larminat aboard his Spitfire Mk.Vc while he was a pilot of Canadian Squadron 417 which operated against the forces of the Afrika Korps. (Claudio Meunier Archive).
At 23, he is promoted to Flight Commander. He leads into combat the select group of Canadian pilots who support with their flights the advance of the British Eighth Army. Death follows him and almost reaches him in 1944.
Everything ends abruptly when his Spitfire’s engine stops over the Adriatic Sea. He must jump by parachute, which will bring consequences for his body. When the parachute opens, his arm gets tangled and causes him serious injuries. He falls into the water. For a moment he cannot unfasten his parachute, which begins to drag him towards the depths. Finally he manages to free himself and swims with one arm. A rescue aircraft goes searching for him and everything ends in a hospital, with a cast. During his recovery, he receives bad news: the Canadians have decided to remove him from operations.
—That’s enough, De Larminat: you have completed 300 combat missions. You can return to your home in Argentina or serve as a flying instructor in Canada.
Quick-witted, he requests discharge from the Royal Canadian Air Force and, appealing to his French origin, enlists in General De Gaulle’s Free French air force.
—Very well, De Larminat, tell me… What can I do for you?, General Vallin, director of the Free French Air Force, asks him.
—I want to fly combat missions again, Bernardo answers.
Vallin looks at the impeccable record of the Argentine warrior. His experience in dive-bombing missions, his three confirmed shoot-downs and others damaged make Vallin not hesitate.
—Very well, De Larminat. You will be Flight Commander and you must operate in the advance on the Netherlands against the Germans, Vallin replies.
Bernardo, enthused by the answer, requests a few days’ leave before joining his new squadron, because he has paperwork to do. The request is granted.
He presents himself at the Argentine Consulate in London dressed in the aviator’s walking-out uniform to continue the extension for Compulsory Military Service in Argentina. The official, embarrassed on seeing his captain’s stripes, invites him for a coffee and suggests:
—Please, forget the matter; there are several cases, like yours; this will have some solution.
Bernardo flies as Flight Commander in the select French Squadron 341 composed of pilots of the same veteran status. Some of his comrades fly like him, without interruption, since 1942. In that same unit served the famous Franco-Brazilian volunteer and ace of the skies Pierre Clostermann. Bernardo will be the one to guide them into combat. Death pursues him and on 1 April 1945 sets a new trap for him. But De Larminat knows how to deal with it and, once again, evades it.
After attacking a German train behind enemy lines, with cannon fire and bombs, Nazi anti-aircraft projectiles hit the engine of his Spitfire which, damaged, stops. Bernardo knows he will not be able to return to his base and that he will fall behind enemy lines. He makes an emergency landing with the wheels up. The fighter slides over some furrows, crashes through a fence, some posts fly, and finally his aircraft stops. He opens the cockpit canopy, unfastens the harnesses and escapes from the aircraft. He discards his yellow life jacket that makes him visible and refrains from setting fire to the aircraft, as protocol indicates, because he does not want to draw attention.
1954. Bernardo De Larminat in his natural environment, the countryside and Patagonia with his dog and tack behind him. (Claudio Meunier Archive).
Some shots pass over his head. They are the Germans firing and converging on him from a nearby wood. Bernardo runs towards a ditch full of water, crosses a barbed fence and, covered in mud, reaches a house asking for help. A young woman answers him; she replies in perfect English:
—I’m very sorry, I can’t help you. I’m alone.
He continues his escape pursued by the echo of the battle. He heads towards a pine forest, where he hides. He sees petrol barrels hidden among the trees and is alarmed. What is that doing there? He looks carefully; he discovers German troops occupying the rings of the forest. He decides to hide very close to them. They will never think that an evader they are looking for is metres from their improvised detachment.
Bernardo, who at that moment has 320 war missions, thinks:
—How stupid it is to have come this far to die on the ground and isolated, without my parents knowing what has happened to me.
He remains hidden in a cave, covered with vegetation. He waits for night to escape under cover of darkness. When he emerges from his hiding place, he discovers that his legs are completely numb and barely allow him to stay standing. If he is discovered, he is a dead man.
Members of the Dutch resistance find him and evacuate him. Dressed in a mechanic’s overalls and an old cap, he walks through the rural streets until he reaches a refuge where he will be sheltered, together with other shot-down Allied aviators and a German sailor who has deserted the war. Days later, on a bicycle, pretending to be a local inhabitant, Bernardo crosses German troops withdrawing from the battle. The tired soldiers signal for him to stop; they ask him for cigarettes. Bernardo, naturally, speaks to them in French and offers them cigarettes. He greets them and continues his way towards the Allied lines.
Guided by the resistance to a Canadian regiment, he is received with joy. Despite his insistent protests, they cut his hair, subject him to frantic fumigations, inoculate him with vaccines against lice and force him to take a good shower to dispel the adrenaline in his body, after six intense days as an evader in enemy territory. At his squadron’s airfield there are celebrations at his return. Captain Andrieux orders him to take a holiday leave in Paris. Bernardo refuses. He requests to join operations immediately. One day later, he leads new attacks with his flight over the German front.
Not far from that front, his brother Andrés —an Argentine volunteer in the service of Free France— fights as a crewman of a Sherman tank under General Leclerc’s orders. Like Bernardo, the lucky star of destiny makes him a surviving veteran of the Second World War.
When Germany capitulates, Captain Bernardo De Larminat receives all kinds of decorations. Great Britain awards him the Distinguished Flying Cross. He is also consecrated a “Knight of the Legion of Honour” and receives the French Croix de Guerre with four palms and seven citations from the French government for his professionalism and devotion to duty in combat.
Happy to have evaded death day by day for four years, he requests his discharge and returns to his beloved Patagonia, to his life in the countryside. He feels privileged to have flown one of the best fighters of the Second World War. Bernardo decides that he will only fly again as a passenger, on airliners. But on two occasions destiny puts him again in front of an aircraft’s controls. The first time was during a cattle auction, in La Pampa. The commission firm transports him as a passenger. The pilot, on discovering Bernardo’s interest in his aeroplane, since he did not stop asking him questions, invites him to fly on his right, in the co-pilot’s seat. During the flight, the aeroplane enters a storm zone; the pilot becomes disoriented and loses control. De Larminat takes the controls, stabilises the aeroplane, gives control back to the pilot and teaches him something learned in the war:
—Man! You have to trust your instruments blindly!
Bernardo De Larminat, together with his ten children. Raised in a rural environment, they continued their father’s legacy. (Mercedes De Larminat Archive).
A cross in Neuquén, by a fence
Bernardo married María Inés Teresa Francisca Cornet D’Hunval (Manina) and they had ten children. A marriage that lived with minimal comfort, in primitive rural areas far from any town. Without communications and with bad roads, in that way they made their way in life. At the end of the 1960s, Bernardo became vice-president of the Rural Society of Choele Choel. He kept working the rest of his days in the countryside. He spent his last summers in Tierra del Fuego. After shearing, he asked his son Eduardo for the Veranada post in the mountains. With his eighty years on his back, he went to look after the cattle that were driven there, accompanied by some of his daughters and grandchildren. He did not leave a corner untravelled. Hills, peat bogs, ravines. He slept on the saddle blanket. They were his holidays, if that word was ever in his vocabulary.
Manina and Bernardo, a marriage that, together with their children, upheld by their example livestock and agricultural work, without any rest, until their last days. (Photograph Inés De Larminat).
He died on 6 January 2010, aged 89, in Zapala. He was buried at Estancia El Bosque, El Huecú, Neuquén, next to his wife Manina, by a fence. That was his wish. There he lies now, turned into legend.
Regarding his Compulsory Military Service, the government of the time decreed that Argentine volunteer pilots who fought alongside the Allied forces were to be exempted from that obligation. And not only that: the same law made Bernardo an Officer of the Reserve in the Argentine Air Force. A similar case to that of Claudio Alan Withington, a man from Córdoba from Villa Huidobro who flew in the Second World War with the British air force (RAF) and who later, in 1982, during the Falklands War, flew with the Argentine Air Force.
……………..But that is another story…
