Very early in the morning of September 15th, 1940, Eric couldn’t sleep, and at last, exasperated, he took Emma the Mutt on a walk around the airfield, and he finally settled in a chair as the light began to show, feeling restless. He looked around at the various magazines and books and finally picked up a copy of the Pilot’s Manual for the new Spitfire Mk II. Rudy quietly came up, and drifted listlessly towards the readiness hut, rubbing his eyes, and called out “good morning old chap” over his shoulder as he set a burner going, and pulled out several eggs from his coat pocket.
Emma the Mutt sat expectantly, looking up at Rudy.
“Well I know you don’t like eggs, so what are you looking at?
Emma continued to stare, cocking her head. Rudy spied the remains of a loaf of bread that had been left the night before, and looked dubiously at monstrous electric toaster that an Aussie had brought to the base, which had been rigged up with an inverter to a lead acid battery.
“Ah well, I suppose we might have a bit of toast”
“Don’t burn it” said Eric, absent-mindedly, gazing through the description of the Spitfire Mk II’s features.
“Ah, the Spitfire Mk II” said Paddy McDugan, who yawned and plopped down into a chair.
“What’s it got that our Mk I’s haven’t got?” asked Eric, yawning. “Damn you, now I’m yawning.”
“Well the top speed is a bit better, with an improved climb rate.” said Paddy, rubbing his eyes. “So from what I hear, maximum speed performance is a bit lower, but combat capability is . . . . . “
“Scramble! Scramble!” came the call, and Eric and Paddy threw their caps on, and Rudy held his newly cooked breakfast, looked momentarily at Emma the mutt, who was nonplussed by the alarm
“Ah, damn!” and Rudy, and dropped the plate on the grass, and sprinted after Eric and Paddy.
--
Winston Churchill stood next to Air Vice Marshall Keith Park, at 11 Group Headquarters at Hillingdon House at RAF Uxbridge, deep underground in the bunker housing the Group operations room.
“Dowding is at Fighter Command Headquarters today?” asked Churchill, looking down at the tabletop maps.
“Yes.” said Keith. The mood was intense. Keith kept checking and re-checking, waiting for the inevitable, looking at the placement of the squadrons. In order to survive any intense attack from the Luftwaffe, he had re-arranged and re-shuffled all the squadrons.
“We’re placed to provide the best possible defense of London that we can, Winston.”
Winston Churchill nodded, looking at the map. Today would probably be the day when the future of England and the war was decided.
“The pilots have no idea of the scale of the attack?” asked Winston.
“No sir, the details are known only to a few in radio interception, in the Air Ministry, Dowding, you, and myself” he said, quietly. “The pilots will think it’s just a typical relief of squadrons.”
They stared at the operations room, lost in thought. For the first time in a week, an attendant had brought him notification that there was a massive buildup of German formations along the enemy coast. Keith spoke quietly again.
“This, I think is what we have been waiting for” he said, “I think that it is about to happen.”
“The weather?” asked Churchill for the third time, and Keith handed him the latest report.
--
Heavy cloud and rain are expected to clear. The forecast is fine for the day with patchy cloud. No rain is forecast but shows may develop in some areas. The cloud is expected to clear away this afternoon giving way to a fine and clear evening.
--
Churchill grunted and passed the memo to an attendant, and as he looked over, he noticed someone familiar in the Group Operations area; he squinted a bit and then saw it was Edith Rose; he walked over to where she was.
“Ms Rose?” he asked, and Edith turned, surprised.
“Prime Minister” she said and thought how foolish it would look if she were to curtsy.
“I take it you’re well? And Eric?”
“Ah, well since you were kind enough to visit Eric’s father’s funeral, we’ve been married” she said. “and Eric’s mother passed away”.
“Ah” he said. “Sorry to hear that. Congratulations and condolences then.” And he looked at the Group Operations room, gesturing with his cigar. “And what brings you here?”
“Ah, well, I had a feeling like today might be an important day” she said, tentatively, and looked down at her feet, and then up. “And I took some leave from the ATA to spend the day here, courtesy of a friend Moxie, who works here, who is trying to recruit me.”
“Quite” he said, and debated whether to tell her that hundreds of bombers were on their way, and that the very fate of the war would probably be decided this day.
“Well, Mrs. Wallace” he said “Over 1500 aircraft are expected to take part in the battle today. It will likely be decisive” he said, and Edith thought about her vision of the anti-aircraft gun, and a scowl developed on her face.
“I wish I could stand at an anti-aircraft gun and blast those bloody Nazi bastards right out of the bleeding sky” she said, and gripped the handrail, staring down at the Group Operations room with a defiant look. Winston almost smiled, thinking of the pictures he’d seen of a protective tigress. Well, if the Nazis manage to invade, then they’ll certainly have hell to pay when they come onshore. And they both looked out silently as reports started coming in of engagements.
--
Douglas Bader made an announcement as their squadron neared the conflict area, which was gathering intensity, like a storm.
“Lads, the bombers are coming in towards London from the south-east.” and then he broke off as they saw the group of bombers off in the distance.
“Holy mother of God” said Paddy Dugan, and cross himself with a free hand, as the squadron each opened up their throttles to climb up towards them.
“We’ll aim for a point well ahead” said Douglas “where we can expect to join them at their own height.”
Eric looked at the bombers and noticed other squadrons of Hurricanes and Spitfires were joining in. As they neared position he looked down and noticed they had reached central London.
“We’ve gained some height on them, so when I give the order to attack we can dive on them from their right” said Bader “Everyone select your target”
The squadron bore down, increasing in speed, and Rudy shook his head, thinking about how an ancestor had fought the English in the Revolutionary War, and how his cousin Ernst was fighting on Germany’s side, and how German mercenaries had fought on England’s side. War his hell, he muttered, and opened up the hail of bullets on his target, a Dornier bomber. His burst lasted several seconds as the Dornier began to turn away from the formation. White smoke started streaming behind him.
Eric’s eyes darted between several bombers on the perimeter, and he weaved in a criss cross pattern, loosing off several seconds of a burst on one plane, and rolling towards another. As he made a steep climbing turn, he looked down and saw the river Thames directly below him, through a hole in the clouds, recognizing the bends and the bridges, wondering where they were. Then he saw the Kennington Oval, and thought to himself, this is where they play cricket.
Rudy saw a Do17 bomber trailing white smoke, which had been hit by a Spitfire and Hurricane, who were following it closely. He looked around and didn’t see anything else to attack, so he climbed up above the bomber to make a diving attack. “Take that Nazi bastard for ruining my breakfast!” and he increased his throttle into a screaming arc. As the distance between his plane and the bomber narrowed rapidly, he saw a red light in the rear-gunners cockpit. Must be fire. And he let a burst loose on the plane, noticing as he passed that the inside of the plane was a smoldering inferno. The bomber went into a spin as the wing sections beyond the engines broke away and then the tail broke away, and the fuselage fell towards the earth.
Eric felt a sense of becoming a h
unter, trying to take down as many bombers as possible, wondering how many people the bombers would otherwise kill. He saw a grouping of three bombers, and let a burst loose on one, yelling “That’s for Tommy you bastard!” and then cursed, as a spray of black oil covered his windscreen and he was enveloped in black smoke. He squinted and accelerated towards a second bomber ahead, lined it up on his sights, and yelled “That’s for my George!” and let another burst loose, and smoke and flames jetted out from the bomber as it veered away. As he neared the third, he yelled “And that’s for Elicia!”, but then his plane shuddered and he started to go into a wild spin. I must have clipped the third bomber he thought in passing, as he struggled.
Pull the safety harness, lean forward, release the hood. But the spinning, gyrating plane and the G forces were making it difficult and he cursed. He managed to free himself finally and jumped, pulling the parachute ring, and the parachute billowed open as he plunged towards the earth at a dangerously low altitude. He blinked his eyes and he noticed the rooftops of houses coming up at him fast. Is this Chelsea? He thought to himself, as his backside hit the sloping roof of one of the houses, and he began to slide down the side, over the guttering, and landed in the garden below, and into a garbage bin. He was stunned, breathing rapidly, and then started laughing uproariously, smacking the sides of the garbage bin. Rudy is going to give me a hard time about this one, the Yankee bastard.
About a mile away, one of the bombers Eric hit came sweeping down in a blinding blur, crashing into the forecourt of Victoria station, demolishing a small tobacconist’s shop.
--
Keith Park gave Winston Churchill an operational report.
“The bf109’s are being held over the northern area of Kent and it appears that only a few are managing to escape from the onslaught by the Spitfires.”
“What’s the array of the bombers?” asked Winston Churchill, reviewing the typed update.
“He111’s, Do17’s, Do215’s” he said. “Some are dropping their bombs at random, others are trying to make it to their targets in vain”.
--
Otto Spaeder was at the controls of a bomber, and knew that the mission was in disarray. He looked around him and saw that only about a third of the bf109 escort was still there. He saw them peel away one by one, and then realized that in front of that a mass of 5 to 10 squadrons as closing in.
--
Rudy, Paddy and Douglas and others reformed, and then dived to go after a pack of Me109’s that had dived down on them. Rudy cursed and couldn’t get his sights on any of the planes, and he pulled out to fly south, climbing. After a few minutes he saw six Me109’s flying in a line just above him. Well thank my lucky stars, this Gryphon will get you bastards. The Me109’s saw him and attacked, and he rolled to get behind two of them, and they rolled away, and the rest flew off to the south. Rudy turned and saw the remaining aircraft attacking him head on. The planes converged on each other in a split second, and the Me109 passed above him in a blur and then climbed. Gotcha!
Rudy climbed, turned, climbed steeply, came up underneath the enemy aircraft and gave him a couple of bursts, and stalled, as the plane reached its limit of vertical climb. Rudy looked around and saw the Me109 in a glide, which gradually became steeper, as it disappeared into a cloud. Rudy entered the cloud, circling in a wide arc, and he saw a fire just beginning below, from the wreckage.
--
After their scattered sorties Bader reformed the squadron again, climbed for altitude and were cruising at 25,000 feet. They closed on the western boroughs of London, they saw bombers 3,000 feet below, and were about to make an attack when a formation of bf109’s came out of the sun.
“Aces 2’oclock! Spitfires of 19 and 611 squadrons, take on the German fighters” and the attending squadrons scattered the bf109’s, who flew off to the south east. Then Hurricanes of Martlesham and Hendon squadrons closed in to attack the bombers. Bader waited for them to complete their sweep.
“Hurricane squadrons, fall into line behind and prepare to attack”
Douglas and the others came in on an almost vertical dive, pressing the planes to their utmost limit of speed. Douglas aimed for the center bomber, with Paddy aiming for the left-hand and Rudy aiming for the right. Bader’s first burst caused his target’s wing to burst into flame, and he pulled up to attack a Dornier ahead, but a Spitfire was in his way and he broke off, constantly watching for other fighters. Ahead, a Spitfire smashed into a bomber and the two fell earthwards. He cursed at the lack of coordination – either the Germans were vastly outnumbered or the British had committed too many fighters. It was a chaotic melee. At least we’re bringing the German bombers down, he said under his breath.
--
Rudy returned from the mornings operations, dead weary, and watched as the planes were refueled and re-armed. He didn’t see Eric, and wondered if he was ok, but he was too tired to think, and sat with Paddy on the airfield, exhausted. The intelligence officer came around to ask for their operational report. They sat in the midday sun, lolling for nearly an hour, as the scramble came for the next wave of enemy aircraft.
It’s going to be a long day. thought Rudy, as he ran towards the plane once again. Business as usual, but when am I going to get my damn breakfast!