Australia’s first Aboriginal fighter pilot
This year at Ulton, we are marking an important milestone — our centenary. At the same time, Australia commemorates the 111th anniversary of ANZAC Day.
It’s a year that has naturally invited reflection: on where we’ve come from, the people who shaped our communities, and the sacrifices that underpin the country we live and work in today. Against that backdrop, sharing a story from the past feels not only fitting, but necessary.
While visiting St George in Queensland, I stood at the gravesite of Warrant Officer Leonard “Len” Waters. I had known his name, but standing there, reading, reflecting, and taking in the weight of his story, brought a deeper understanding of just how extraordinary his life was.
Warrant Officer Leonard “Len” Waters ( 20 June 1924 – 24 August 1993)
Len Waters was Australia’s first Aboriginal fighter pilot in the Royal Australian Air Force. Born in 1924 at Euraba Mission in New South Wales, he grew up during a time when opportunities for First Nations Australians were limited by policy, prejudice and circumstance. Despite being recognised as bright and capable, his formal education ended early. Like many others, he went to work young, becoming a shearer in outback Queensland.
When World War II broke out, Len enlisted in the RAAF in August 1942. He initially trained as a flight mechanic. When the call went out for aircrew, he volunteered, knowing the odds were long and the standards demanding.
What followed was remarkable.
Len undertook intensive training across New South Wales and Victoria, studying alongside more than a hundred other trainees. Only a fraction graduated as pilots. Len finished fourth overall. In 1944, he earned his wings and was posted to No. 78 Squadron.
Flying P-40 Kittyhawks, one famously named Black Magic, Len completed 95 operational missions across the South West Pacific, providing close air support and ground attack over Japanese-held territory. These were dangerous missions, flown low and under fire. Each sortie carried real risk, and each required courage, skill and composure. One of my grandfathers, Claude Reginald Edgar Wright was serving with the 2/5th Battalion in Papua New Guinea (Milne Bay) and later at Jacquint Bay, New Britain at that time. I thought it was moving that Len may have been providing air support to Pop!
By the end of the war, Len had risen to the rank of Warrant Officer.
After his discharge in 1946, Len returned to civilian life in Queensland. Like many veterans, his post-war years were quieter and harder. His dream of starting a regional airline never gained support. He returned to shearing, raised a family, and lived largely outside the spotlight.
Yet his service was never forgotten by those who knew its significance.
Len Waters was laid to rest in St George in 1993 with full military honours. Streets, memorials and murals now carry his name. In 1995, Australia Post honoured him on a commemorative stamp, recognising his place in our nation’s history.
Standing at his gravesite, I was struck by the contrast between what Len overcame and what he achieved. His story is one of talent, determination and service, set against a backdrop of limitation and inequality. It is also a reminder that many ANZAC stories, particularly those of First Nations servicemen and women, were not always fully told or widely recognised.
ANZAC Day asks us to remember sacrifice. It also asks us to reflect on the journeys that followed, and the people who returned home to build the Australia we now inherit.
Today, I remember Warrant Officer Leonard Waters. I’m grateful for his service, proud of his legacy, and thankful for the path he helped forge, for his family, for his community, and for our country.
In a year of reflection, for our firm and for our nation, remembering Warrant Officer Leonard Waters feels especially important.
For those interested in learning more about Len’s life and service, The Missing Man by Peter Rees is a thoughtful and detailed account.
Lest we forget.