Flight Lieutenant John Cruickshank, the last surviving recipient of the Victoria Cross awarded for service in the Royal Air Force during the Second World War, has died at the age of 105. His passing, announced by his family on August 18, 2025, marks the end of an era for British military history and brings renewed attention to the extraordinary sacrifices made by airmen during the conflict. Cruickshank’s story, one of astonishing bravery and humility, stands in sharp contrast to the technological and operational challenges faced by other aviators flying some of the most notorious fighter planes of the war.
Born in 1920, John Cruickshank joined the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve and was soon flying the Consolidated PBY Catalina flying boat with 210 Squadron. These aircraft, among the most widely used seaplanes of their time, were vital for long-range patrols and anti-submarine warfare. Cruickshank was stationed at RAF Sullom Voe in the Shetland Islands, a remote outpost from which he and his crew launched submarine-hunting missions over the cold, perilous Norwegian Sea.
On July 17, 1944, as the British Home Fleet returned from an attack on a German battleship, Cruickshank and his crew were sent to provide air cover. According to his official citation, they spotted a German U-boat on the surface. The first bombing run missed, but Cruickshank, demonstrating the kind of resolve that would earn him the Victoria Cross, turned his Catalina around for a second attack. This time, he succeeded in sinking the U-boat—but not without cost. He was struck by enemy anti-aircraft fire, sustaining seventy-two wounds, including injuries to his lungs and legs. His navigator was killed, and three other crew members were wounded.
Despite his life-threatening injuries, Cruickshank refused morphine so he could remain conscious and direct another crew member to fly the aircraft. For five and a half hours, he guided the Catalina back to base, ensuring the safety of his surviving crew. As reported by PA Media, Cruickshank later downplayed his actions, saying, “It was just normal, we were trained to do the job and that was it. I wouldn't like to say I'm the only one that has an amazing story, there are plenty of other stories coming from that time. It wasn't that wonderful in those days, I can tell you that. We could only think in those days there were better days to come.”
For his actions, Cruickshank was awarded the Victoria Cross in September 1944, the highest honor in the British honors system for bravery in the face of the enemy. He became one of only 181 individuals to receive the VC during the Second World War. In a fitting coda to his remarkable service, he was presented with the Air Efficiency Award at his home in Aberdeen in 2024, recognizing his years of commitment to the RAF's reserve contingents.
Cruickshank’s story of courage and resilience stands out all the more when considered alongside the broader context of the air war in World War II. The conflict saw the emergence of legendary aircraft such as the Supermarine Spitfire, P-51 Mustang, and Mitsubishi Zero. Yet, as detailed in a recent review by SlashGear, not every fighter plane of the era lived up to its promise. For every celebrated warbird, there were others whose reputations were marred by poor performance, dangerous design flaws, or simple obsolescence.
Take the Brewster 2A Buffalo, for example. First flown in December 1937 and produced in a run of 509 aircraft, the Buffalo was already outclassed by the time it entered service. Its deficiencies were tragically exposed at the Battle of Midway in 1942, where U.S. Marine Corps pilots flying the Buffalo suffered catastrophic losses—65% of the aircraft were lost, with 13 out of 20 destroyed. According to SlashGear, even though the Buffalo looked promising on paper, it simply could not compete with enemy fighters like the Mitsubishi Zero, and was quickly overshadowed by superior American designs such as the Grumman F4F Wildcat and F6F Hellcat.
On the other side of the conflict, the Luftwaffe’s desperate attempts to regain air superiority led to the deployment of the Messerschmitt Me 163 Komet. This tailless, rocket-powered interceptor was a marvel of engineering ambition but was plagued by instability and dangerous landing gear failures. Armed with a pair of 30 mm cannons, the Komet could reach incredible speeds, but it was so difficult to control that pilots often found it nearly impossible to hit their targets. As SlashGear notes, “it was so fast that hitting the target was like trying to score a bullseye on a moving dartboard from the back of a speeding sportbike.” The Komet’s legacy is one of innovation, but also of peril for those who flew it.
Other nations faced similar challenges. The French Morane-Saulnier M.S. 406, introduced in 1938, was already outdated by the time of the Battle of France in 1940. Its underpowered Hispano Suiza engine limited its performance, and while it managed to claim 269 victories, over 300 were lost in the brief and brutal campaign. In the Soviet Union, the Lavochkin Gorbunov Gudkov Lagg-3—nicknamed the “wooden coffin” for its wood construction—was produced in vast numbers (over 6,500 units), but its general inferiority to German fighters like the Bf 109 meant that survival depended as much on pilot bravery as on the aircraft itself.
Japan’s Nakajima J1Ni-S Gekko, meanwhile, started as an escort fighter with a crew of three and ended up relegated to night fighting duties by 1943. Despite being armed with a 20 mm cannon and several machine guns, the Gekko never achieved the fame of the Mitsubishi Zero, and only one example survives today, preserved at the Smithsonian.
What unites the stories of these aircraft—both the celebrated and the maligned—is the courage and tenacity of the men who flew them. Whether piloting a state-of-the-art Spitfire or a much-criticized Buffalo, airmen faced extraordinary risks each time they took to the sky. As the world marks the passing of John Cruickshank, it is worth remembering that every flight during World War II demanded a blend of skill, nerve, and, sometimes, sheer luck.
Cruickshank’s humility, even in the face of extraordinary heroism, serves as a reminder that history’s greatest achievements often come from those who see themselves as simply doing their duty. His life and legacy, now etched in the annals of military history, will continue to inspire future generations to reflect on the true meaning of bravery.
