In the first half of the Second World War,
RAF Bomber Command relied on three twin-engine medium bombers
to carry out its early offensives.

There was the Vickers Wellington,
the Armstrong Whitworth Whitley,
and there was this — the Handley Page Hampden.

Though on paper it’s listed as a medium bomber,
the Hampden was significantly lighter
than the Wellington and the Whitley.

It also carried a smaller bomb load
and it had a considerably reduced defensive armament.

On the other side of things,
it still carried more than twice the bomb load
of the Bristol Blenheim,
the RAF’s primary light bomber.

And because of this,
the Hampden sort of sits in a category of its own —
not quite a medium bomber,
but too heavy for a light bomber.

This was because the Hampden was designed
with a high priority placed on performance —
specifically speed and climb rate.

And while it did perform well in both categories,
the sacrifices made to achieve said performance
would ultimately shorten its service life.

The origins of the Hampden
and the decisions made that would influence its future
can be traced back to 1932.

The British Air Ministry was faced with an important question:

Did they want a bomber that took a heavy load
over a longer distance?

Or did they want a bomber
that could take a smaller load
over a shorter range
but at a much greater speed?

This question was further complicated by two things:

In 1932
they still weren’t exactly sure
where the next potential war would arise
and thus who the enemy would be —
though suspicions were mounting.

And in 1932
the League of Nations held its disarmament conference —
one that laid down various proposed restrictions
on the construction of bomber aircraft
with a focus on tier weight.

Think of it
like the Washington Naval Treaty of the skies.

Most members of the Air Ministry
had doubts as to what this conference would actually achieve,
and because of this
they pushed through with issuing new specifications.

That being said,
the disarmament conference was serious enough
that they placed stringent restrictions
on the aircraft’s tare weight
just to be safe.

As it turned out,
the conference achieved basically nothing,
but it had gone on long enough
to negatively influence Ministry Specification B.9/32,
which would lay the groundwork
for the next generation of RAF bombers.

Four companies eventually tendered proposals:
Bristol,
Gloster,
Handley Page,
and Vickers.

As mentioned in our video
covering the Vickers Wellington,
this specification was both vague and restrictive —
to the point of being detrimental.

It showed the Air Ministry
still hadn’t made up its mind
about what kind of bomber they really wanted.

Initially,
the specification called for a tare weight
of no more than 6,300 pounds,
which immediately limited the choice of engines.

It also limited other important things
like potential bomb load
and range.

Handley Page, like Vickers,
had serious doubts
about what it could actually do
with such requirements.

But the design team,
led by George Volkert,
got to work anyway.

Doubtful that sanity would prevail in the Air Ministry,
and expecting the tare weight limit to remain low,
the Handley Page team proposed a radical design
that put emphasis on performance
rather than payload.

The HP.52 proposal of 1932
was cutting-edge.

It featured an all-metal semi-monocoque construction.
The aircraft would be covered in a flush-riveted stressed metal skin
(with the exception of the control surfaces).

It incorporated the latest Handley Page leading-edge slot systems,
wingtip slots,
and hydraulically operated flaps.

It would have three-blade variable-pitch propellers
and a retractable undercarriage.

The crew would consist of four:
a pilot,
navigator,
wireless operator,
and a gunner.

Both the navigator in the nose
(who also acted as bomb aimer)
and the wireless operator
would be required to man additional gun positions
should the need arise.

To save weight,
the aircraft was built as conservatively as possible
for a medium bomber.

This resulted in the distinct shape
of the Hampden’s airframe.

It featured a deep and narrow fuselage —
in fact it was only three feet wide,
and only the frontal section
was large enough to accommodate the crew.

After the wing trailing edge,
a boom-like extension
formed the rear fuselage
connecting to the twin-fin tail surfaces.

This earned it nicknames such as:
the Flying Tadpole,
the Flying Suitcase,
or the Flying Panhandle.

The slab-sided design had advantages,
but it would later present a major problem:
the crew could not be compartmentalized.

The navigator was pretty much trapped in the nose,
and the cockpit was so cramped
that if the pilot was killed or injured,
it would be almost impossible
to replace him in flight.

From a comfort standpoint,
the fuselage was too small
to allow facilities needed for long-distance missions —
particularly uncomfortable
for anyone with a small bladder.

Still,
with the Ministry’s weight restrictions in mind,
Handley Page felt it was a necessary compromise.

By Easter of 1933
the team had built a mock-up
and proposed it be powered
by either Bristol Aquila
or Bristol Mercury radial engines.

Depending on the engine,
the top speed was predicted between 208–230 mph.

The Air Ministry approved the design
but encouraged the company
to make use of the new Rolls-Royce Goshawk engine instead.

The engine used evaporative cooling (steam cooling),
saving weight —
and the Air Ministry liked anything that saved weight.

Unfortunately,
the Goshawk proved to be about as effective
as the League of Nations
in the mid-1930s:

completely useless.

By 1934
the Air Ministry, facing the lack of a suitable lightweight engine,
relaxed tare-weight restrictions
to allow installation of more powerful engines.

Handley Page anticipated this
and modified the design to fit the Bristol Pegasus engine.

Accommodating the larger engine
meant increasing dimensions slightly:

– wing area: 560 → 600 sq ft
– fuselage length: +27 inches
– height: +1 inch
– width: +2 inches

In 1935
a second mock-up reflected the changes.
It was decided to use the new Bristol Pegasus PE-5 variant,
which improved range by 250 miles.

The prototype, serial K4240,
was completed by summer 1936
and first flew on June 21st.

A week later
it appeared at the RAF Display at Hendon.

Flight trials followed —
high praise for handling and performance,
out-climbing and out-running rivals in its weight class.

But not without mishaps:

In November 1936
the starboard undercarriage collapsed on landing.

Then on January 13th, 1937,
the starboard propeller separated in flight,
tearing a large hole in the fuselage.

Test pilot Jim Cordes managed to land safely.

The Air Ministry was impressed
and placed an initial order for 180 Hampdens
only six weeks after the first flight,
plus another 100 Herefords using Napier Dagger engines.

the second prototype was being built for the Swedish Air Force,
who was looking for a new coastal patrol bomber
and who had been suitably impressed
by Handley Page’s design.

The initial request,
made way back in 1934,
called for the undercarriage
to be interchangeable between wheels, floats, and skis.

The engines were to be license-built Bristol Pegasus IIs.
Camera equipment was to be installed.
And it was to have a 20 mm defensive gun.

Designated as the HP.53,
the development of this Swedish aircraft
was plagued by delays.

There were numerous problems
in adapting both the engines and the airframes
to the needs of the Swedish Air Force.

To make matters worse,
the Air Force kept changing their minds
about the requirements for the design.

This dragged on for so long
that by the end of 1936
the prototype was still unfinished.

Then, in 1937,
Handley Page suggested
that they supply two naked production airframes
without weapons or equipment
and the Swedish Air Force
could then modify them to their liking.

If everything went well
and the aircraft proved useful,
they would then be allowed
to produce the aircraft under license.

The Swedish Air Force agreed to the suggestion,
and the incomplete HP.53 prototype
was repurposed to test out
the installation of the Napier Dagger engines.

In the event,
Sweden never went on to produce the bomber under license,
and the whole thing
was a bit of a wasteful saga.

The fifth Hampden produced
was sent over to Sweden,
but it remained the only one they would operate.

It would eventually be used
as a testbed for various electronic equipment,
and it was given over to Saab for further testing in 1947
before being stricken off a few years later.

As experimentation began
on the Napier-powered HP.53,
which soon produced all manner of headaches
for Handley Page,
the Air Ministry,
and the aircrews of the RAF,

things were gearing up
for production of the Pegasus-powered HP.52.

Before production began,
it was felt that more could be done
to improve the aircraft’s design.

To trial many of the proposed upgrades,
a production prototype
was completed in the spring of 1938.

The production prototype, serialed L4032,
flew in May.

It was this aircraft
that was first given the official name Hampden
by the Viscountess of Hampden
on June 24th.

The production prototype
differed from the previous aircraft in many ways,
and unsurprisingly,
it set the basic template
for Hampden types moving forward.

The nose was now a curved Perspex molding
incorporating a flat bomb-aiming panel.

The dorsal and ventral gun positions
were revised —
the former having a roomier semicircular cupola
that hinged to allow it to be pushed back
over the gunner’s head.

Both positions came with a single .303 caliber Vickers K gun,
and there was provision
for a fixed forward-firing .303 Browning in the nose
to be operated by the pilot.

Even by 1937 standards,
this was considered very light defensive armament.

Unfortunately,
the narrow fuselage design imposed limits.

Attempts had been made
to install various turrets,
particularly in the nose,
but the fuselage was too narrow
for a gunner to operate them properly.

Eventually,
production could not be delayed further —
especially with the situation in Europe worsening.

It was agreed
that the Hampden’s main line of defense
would have to be its speed,
rather than its guns.

Still, despite this handicap,
the Hampden managed to distinguish itself
not just as a medium bomber,
but in several other important roles as well.

But before discussing its varied,
often underappreciated service history,
I’d like to talk about the sponsor of today’s video,
War Thunder…

Six years after the Air Ministry
first issued their vague, restrictive,
and mostly contradictory requirements,

the Hampdens finally began to roll off the production line.

The first two production Hampdens
were allotted to the Aircraft and Armament Experimental Establishment
at Martlesham Heath.

The third aircraft, L4034,
after undergoing service handling trials,
was the first to enter RAF service,

joining No. 49 Squadron at Scampton
on September 20th, 1938.

By the end of the year,
two squadrons — No. 49 and No. 83 —
were fully equipped,
and No. 50 Squadron had begun to receive its first Hampdens as well.

In producing the Hampden,
Handley Page continued perfecting
a construction technique they had employed
with previous designs: split assembly.

Sections of the fuselage, wings,
and various components
were individually assembled in jigs.

The fuselage and tail boom
were built in two halves,
allowing internal equipment, cables, and wiring
to be installed beforehand.

The halves were then stuck together
like a giant Airfix model.

With war in Europe imminent,
the Air Ministry decided
that dispersed — even offshore — production
was a good idea.

The Hampden’s construction methods
made it ideal for this.

Arrangements were made
for production under subcontract
by English Electric at Preston,
with an initial contract for 75 aircraft.

In Canada,
Canadian Associated Aircraft Ltd.
received an initial order
for 80 Hampdens.

Another company, Short Brothers,
was awarded production contracts —
but for the Napier-powered HP.53,
now known as the Handley Page Hereford.

This… would prove to be a disappointing episode.

On paper, things looked promising.
And indeed they continued to do so
when the first production Hereford
flew at Martlesham Heath in late 1939.

With its 24-cylinder engines
producing 955 horsepower each,
the aircraft’s performance
was almost identical to that of the regular Hampden.

It had a top speed of 265 mph
at 15,500 feet.

It had a takeoff weight of just under 18,000 pounds,
and it had a range of approximately 1,200 miles.

The first Herefords were delivered
to No. 35 Squadron at the start of 1940.
They were quickly followed by another batch
sent to No. 185 Squadron at Cottesmore.

Yet, despite 150 of these aircraft being built,
the fact that only one single Hereford
flew an operational mission over enemy territory
speaks volumes to the problems soon encountered.

It was soon found
that the engines overheated when taxiing
but over-cooled at altitude.

They were extremely noisy,
making long-distance missions almost unbearable.

They sat at remarkably high revs when cruising,
which not only worsened the noise problem
but also raised questions about fuel efficiency.

These problems were never solved.

After a short while,
all Herefords were either:

– converted back to Hampden specifications,
or
– sent to Operational Training Units
if engines were not available.

Likely to be used
as a new form of hazing ritual
for new recruits.

In defense of the Hereford:

The Air Ministry was right to develop it.
Relying solely on the Bristol Pegasus
would have been asking for trouble.

The early Pegasus models
had their own teething issues.

There was also the matter of supply—
if Bristol couldn’t build enough engines,
Handley Page would at least have an alternative.

It just so happened
that in the long run
the Pegasus engines became more reliable,
far easier to maintain,
and considerably less complex.

Thus, only the Pegasus-powered Hampdens
would see frontline service during WWII.

By 3 September 1939,
10 squadrons of Bomber Command
were flying Hampdens—
all belonging to No. 5 Group.

This amounted to 212 operational aircraft.

As with other Bomber Command aircraft
at the start of the war,
early Hampden operations
were mostly limited to armed reconnaissance
against German naval units.

The pattern was simple:

Fly over the Heligoland Bight in broad daylight.
Taunt any Kriegsmarine ships that appeared.
Then return to England,
swatting away the occasional fighter sent to intercept.

This optimistic approach
was unsurprisingly not successful.

It led to the wholesale slaughter
of several Hampden and Wellington crews.

Example:

On 29 September 1939,
a flight of five Hampdens from No. 144 Squadron,
led by Wing Commander J.C. Cunningham,
was completely destroyed
by German fighters near the Heligoland coast.

Despite these heavy losses,
Bomber Command flew 21 missions like this
before finally accepting that daytime operations
were far too dangerous.

On 18 December 1939,
they switched to nighttime operations instead.

Early nighttime missions
were used to give crews experience.
They didn’t carry bombs—
nobody wanted to be the first
to accidentally bomb a city
and face retaliation.

Instead, they carried propaganda leaflets.

Soon, the Hampden was regularly used
in “Nickel Raids”—
leaflet raids over enemy territory.

By the end of 1940,
123 such missions had been carried out
with the loss of just one Hampden.

While some Hampdens dropped leaflets over land,
others were busy dropping something
more aggressive
over the sea.

In winter 1939–1940,
some Hampdens were modified
to carry magnetic sea mines.

The first of these 2,000-pound weapons
were laid by Hampdens of Nos. 44, 49, 50, 61, and 144 Squadrons
on the night of 13–14 April 1940,
just after the German invasion of Norway.

The mine-laying campaign
was undertaken jointly
by Coastal Command and Bomber Command.

The aim:
to lay mines in areas
inaccessible to Royal Navy ships.

Between April 1940 and December 1940:

– 1209 mine-laying sorties were flown
– 703 mines were successfully laid
– Only 21 aircraft went missing

A casualty rate of less than 1.9%.

Other missions over Norway
were far less successful.

The Air Ministry once again
pressed the Hampden into use
as a day bomber.

And once again,
this proved disastrous.

The aircraft was feebly armed,
and the missions resembled close air support,
putting Hampdens at even greater risk.

German interceptors were faster
and often engaged the Hampdens
before they could climb to safe altitudes.

Losses mounted quickly.

Air Commodore Arthur Harris
(later known as “Bomber Harris”),
AOC of No. 5 Group,
attempted to improve matters.

He hired a company of agricultural engineers
to produce mountings for twin Vickers K guns
for both dorsal and ventral turrets.

This made the ventral gunner’s position cramped,
but doubled the Hampden’s defensive capability.

Additional gun mounts
were installed in some fuselage side panels,
adding makeshift “waist guns.”

Despite these improvements,
daylight operations in enemy-patrolled areas
remained out of the question.

Eventually,
the course of the war changed,
and the Hampden finally found itself
used in roles it was originally intended for.

On the night of 19–20 March 1940,
Hampdens took part in the first deliberate RAF bombing
of German soil—
attacking seaplane hangars and slipways on the island of Sylt.

The first RAF raid on mainland Germany
would not occur for another two months.

With the German Blitzkrieg
against Holland, Belgium, and France
on 10 May 1940,
RAF bombers made their first raids
against military targets in Germany,
attacking road and rail junctions by night.

Following the bombing of Rotterdam
on 14 May,
Hampdens were sent further east
to bomb targets in the Ruhr.

On 15 May,
nearly 100 bombers participated.

Barely a quarter
actually located their targets.

Level bombing accuracy
at this stage of the war
was abysmal—
the raid was largely ineffective.

After the fall of France,
Hampdens were once again
preoccupied with naval targets.

During the Battle of Britain,
they were sent—
alongside Wellingtons and Whitleys—
to strike enemy shipping massing along the French and Belgian coasts
for Operation Sea Lion.

This was some of Bomber Command’s
most dangerous work.

Ports where invasion barges were stored
were heavily defended by anti-aircraft batteries.

Losses were significant.

The docks at Kiel
were a frequent target.

On the night of 1–2 July,
Hampden L4070, flown by Flying Officer Guy Gibson
(later of Dambusters fame),
dropped the first 2,000-pound bomb from a Hampden
during a raid on Kiel,
aiming at the battleship Scharnhorst.

The raid was unsuccessful,
but not the last attempt on German capital ships.

(And more on that later.)

By this point in 1940,
production of the Hampdens had increased considerably
and new squadrons of the aircraft were being formed.

Production of the aircraft by Handley Page
had actually ceased after the 500th Hampden had been built,
with company focus now shifted to the Halifax heavy bomber.

But English Electric had carried on building the Hampden
for a considerable time.
They would eventually produce 717 Handley Page Hampdens,
and the first of the Canadian-built models arriving in August 1940
further bolstered Bomber Command’s forces.

Many of the new Handley Page squadrons
were formed from Commonwealth aircrews:

— No. 455 (RAAF – Royal Australian Air Force)
— No. 408 and No. 415 (RCAF – Royal Canadian Air Force)
— No. 489 (RNZAF – Royal New Zealand Air Force)

Though the Hampden would take part
in the first RAF bombing raid of Berlin
with members of 44, 49, 50, 61, and 83 Squadrons participating,
its use was not as widespread
as that of its contemporary, the Vickers Wellington.

This was partly due to:

— the Wellington’s superior range
— the Wellington’s superior defensive armament
— and mostly because Wellington production
was ten times greater than Hampden production.

Though the Hampden was technically a newer design,
too much had been compromised in the pursuit of performance.

And while yes,
it was among the best maneuvering aircraft of its class,
Bomber Command quickly realized
that range, bomb load, and good defenses
were not things they would sacrifice for agility.

Thus, by mid-1941,
it was freely admitted
that the Hampden’s usefulness as a frontline bomber
was quickly running out.

Not only were the first of the four-engine heavy bombers
starting to filter into RAF squadrons,
but improved German anti-aircraft defenses
and the development of better night-fighter tactics
meant the Hampden was more vulnerable than ever.

That being said,
the Hampden was still technically useful,
and Bomber Command—moving into 1942—
was loath to part with them
until absolutely necessary.

Because of this,
the Handley Page Hampden,
along with the Vickers Wellington
and the Armstrong Whitworth Whitley,
would find itself flying beside much larger bombers
during the first major raids of 1942.

These included the 1,000-bomber raids
on Cologne, Essen, and Bremen
in late May and June.

Hampdens also continued raiding various ports
where German warships were being moored.

A bomber from No. 44 Squadron
scored a direct hit on Gneisenau
with a 2,000-pound semi-armor piercing bomb.

This did not sink Gneisenau,
but the raids contributed to the decision
to pull Kriegsmarine ships back to safer harbors.

This led directly
to the event known as The Channel Dash.

During the Channel Dash —
when the German ships Scharnhorst, Gneisenau,
and Prinz Eugen
sailed up the English Channel toward their bases —

the Hampden formed part of the air forces
sent to sink them.

No. 408 Squadron’s Hampdens
were the first to attack with bombs,
followed by No. 455 Squadron.

The other squadrons —
50, 420, and 144 —
were thrown into the fight as the situation worsened.

But many Hampdens either
failed to find the warships
or had their attacks hampered
by low-lying cloud.

Additionally, the German ships were not defenseless.
Eight Hampdens were shot down
by escorting fighters.
At least two more were downed
by the ships’ anti-aircraft batteries.

With the advent of the first Stirlings,
and then the arrival of the Halifax
and later the Lancaster,
Hampdens were progressively declared non-operational
and withdrawn from frontline use.

The last raid involving Hampdens
was on Wilhelmshaven
on the night of 14–15 September 1942,
carried out by No. 408 Squadron (RCAF).

By then, the Hampden had made:

— 19,541 individual bombing sorties
— dropped 9,115 tons of ordnance

But it had also suffered:

— 413 Hampdens shot down by enemy action
— 194 more lost due to accidents

This meant over one-third
of all Hampdens ever built
were destroyed.

Though obsolete,
the Hampden still had a part to play
in training aircrews
for the larger four-engine bombers.

But more importantly,
its life was extended
by some enterprising minds
in the town of Gosport —
specifically at the Torpedo Development Unit.

Early in the war,
engineers at the Royal Aircraft Establishment (RAE)
suggested the Hampden would be well-suited
as a torpedo bomber.

In 1941,
with Hampdens nearing obsolescence as level bombers,
torpedo units at Gosport experimented
with up to five donated Hampdens.

These experiments would lead
to the Hampden TB Mk I.

The torpedo selected
was the 18-inch Mark XII.

Two proposals were made:

    The bomber could carry two torpedoes under the wings

    Or it could carry one inside the bomb bay

Carrying two required heavy modifications.
Thus, carrying one torpedo inside the bay
was chosen.

The bomb bay, however,
was not deep enough.

The bottom of the torpedo protruded
about 3.5 inches below the aircraft.

To solve this:

— the center bay doors and their jacks were removed
— the outer bomb bay doors were left open

This increased drag
but kept the aircraft’s all-up weight
within acceptable limits.

It could still fly 1,960 miles
and carry two 500-lb bombs or depth charges under the wings.

Following torpedo trials,
No. 144 and No. 455 Squadrons
were transferred to Coastal Command
and had their aircraft modified
to Hampden TB Mk I standard.

They were later joined by
No. 408, 415, and 489 Squadrons —
a total of 144 Hampdens converted.

Not much is written
about Hampdens in Coastal Command,
but one notable duty
was escorting Russian convoys from Murmansk.

The plan was:

— 144 and 455 Squadrons would fly some Hampdens to Russia
— escort the convoy
— train Soviet aircrews on the Hampden
— leave the aircraft there

On paper: simple enough.
In practice: a nightmare.

The weather was dangerous,
with icing a constant threat.
Several Hampdens were lost
over Norway and Sweden.

Worse yet,
the Hampden’s silhouette resembled
the German Dornier Do-17 —
long thin tail, twin fins —
leading to friendly-fire incidents
from Soviet fighters.

One Hampden was shot down,
two more damaged beyond repair.

The only way to prove they were friendly
was to lower the landing gear mid-air —
and even then
they sometimes took ground fire.

After escorting Convoy PQ 18,
the remaining 23 Hampdens
were handed over to the Soviet Air Force.

Seventeen were absorbed
into the 24th Anti-Shipping Wing.

They were used from October 1942 to September 1943
and sank several German ships.

But losses could not be replaced,
and spare parts dwindled.

By the end of 1943,
the wing was disbanded.

A similar fate befell the Hampdens of Coastal Command.

Maintenance was difficult.
Parts were scarce.
Training units needed aircraft more urgently.

Thus, during 1943,
Hampdens were gradually replaced
by torpedo-carrying Bristol Beaufighters.

Those still flyable
were handed to Operational Training Units.

A large number of Canadian-built Hampdens
found use in training roles.

Of 160 units built in Canada,
around 76 were retained
as bombing and gunnery trainers
from the outset.

The last torpedo squadron
to dispense with the Hampden
was No. 489 Squadron,
ceasing operations on 26 October 1943.

This brought an end
to the Hampden’s frontline career.

Though it was never a perfect fit
for the medium bomber role,

the Hampden — along with the Whitley and the Wellington —
bore the brunt of Bomber Command’s workload
in the first half of the Second World War.

Often going against superior opponents
and taking heavy losses.

During the summer of 1940 —
undoubtedly the Hampden’s busiest time —
two Victoria Crosses
would be awarded to airmen serving aboard them.

The first VC was awarded
to Flight Lieutenant Roderick Learoyd,

who became the first Bomber Command pilot
to receive the Victoria Cross.

On 12 August 1940,
he piloted one of 11 Hampdens
sent to destroy an aqueduct over the River Ems.

Learoyd took his Hampden in toward the target
at an altitude of just 150 feet,
his cockpit painfully illuminated
by German searchlights.

Before the drop point,
his aircraft took serious damage —
including a ruptured hydraulic system
that rendered both flaps and undercarriage useless.

Despite this,
Learoyd pushed on with the bomb run
and managed to nurse the crippled aircraft
back to Britain.

He circled patiently until first light,
believing a night landing too dangerous
for his crew.

He then landed the Hampden
without injury to any of them.

The second VC went to Sergeant John Hannah,
Wireless Operator / Gunner.

On the night of 15 September 1940,
his Hampden was over Antwerp
when it received significant damage
from anti-aircraft fire.

A fire started onboard
and began to spread quickly.

The rear gunner and navigator
were both forced to bail out.

But Sergeant Hannah remained.
He fought the fire with extinguishers.
When they were empty,
he continued beating the flames with his bare hands.

He suffered severe burns in the process.

Eventually,
he succeeded in extinguishing the flames.

He spent the remainder of the mission
in quiet agony
as the pilot brought the aircraft home.

Because of its modest production run,
its heavy wartime losses,
and its eclipse by larger bombers later in the war,
not many Hampdens survived.

Of the three medium bombers
used by Bomber Command at the start of the war,
the Hampden had the shortest service life.

Its last years as a training aircraft
meant that it missed out
on the heyday of the bomber offensives
and faded from public memory.

Because of this,
the Hampden was never really considered for preservation.

Almost all Hampdens
were eventually scrapped
or left to rot at the back of hangars.

Today,
only a handful exist in any form.

A single Hampden —
restored from various parts —
is at the Canadian Museum of Flight.

Another is being restored
at the Royal Air Force Museum at Cosford.

And one recovered from a crash site in Sweden
is also being worked on.

Aside from that,
very little remains
of Handley Page’s “Flying Suitcase.”

Though it is beloved
by aircraft modelers around the world.

Once again,
thank you to War Thunder
for sponsoring today’s video.

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A big thank you again
to our Wing Commander-tier patrons —
our highest-tier members.

I should have the vote
for next month’s topic of choice
ready by the end of the weekend,
so please keep an eye out for that.

And thank you all so much
for your continued support.

I’ll catch you all next time.

Goodbye.