The Good Fight: Battle of Britain Wartime Propaganda and The Few

The Good Fight Battle of Britain Propaganda and the Few

Garry Campion

The Good Fight

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The Good Fight Battle of Britain Propaganda and the Few Garry Campion

© Garry Campion 2009 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2009 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–1–4039–8998–7 hardback ISBN-10: 1–4039–8998–2 hardback This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Campion, Garry, 1963– The good fight : Battle of Britain propaganda and the few / Garry Campion. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-10: 1–4039–8998–2 (hbk. : alk. paper) ISBN-13: 978–1–4039–8998–7 (hbk. : alk. paper) 1. World War, 1939–1945—Propaganda. 2. Propaganda, British— History—20th century. 3. Propaganda, Anti-German—Great Britain— History—20th century. 4. Britain, Battle of, Great Britain, 1940. I. Title. D810.P7G7236 2009 2008016431 940.54 88641—dc22 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne

For Suzanne

From a Sergeant Pilot God, give us grace that we, Flying our fighters to eternity, May meteor-like before we fall Leave fiery trails of light, that all Truth’s sons may clutch, and clutching rise To blast Hell’s spawn from Heaven’s skies. Pilot Officer O.C. Chave 3 July 1940 [452, p. 11]

Contents

List of Illustrations

x

Acknowledgements and Permissions

xi

Abbreviations

xiii

Chronology – May 1940–March 1941

xv

Introduction The disputed invasion threat The propaganda war

1 1 6

1 A Tangle of Vapour Trails Defining propaganda The Air Ministry ‘Ministry of Morale’ Winston Churchill Conclusions

9 9 12 25 33 35

2 Squadrons Up RAF Fighter Command The Luftwaffe The Battle of Britain Reckoning

36 36 48 51 58

3 Arise to Conquer RAF pilots’ combat experiences and morale Luftwaffe morale and the Few Contemporary tributes to the Few British, Empire and international tributes Deliverance

64 64 71 73 85 90

4 Winged Words Collating and broadcasting the claims Breaking the news Persuading Britain The aircraft-claiming controversy Significance vii

91 91 96 101 104 114

viii Contents

5 Mastery of the Air Wireless propagandists BBC home news coverage Contribution

116 116 120 133

6 Finest Hour ‘Hot’ propaganda: the press Warrior-heroes Off the front pages − The Mirror and The Times Magazines and journals Conclusions

134 134 140 147 151 159

7 Men Like These Newsreels as propaganda Newsreel coverage of Fighter Command American newsreels MOI ‘shorts’ A restrospective

161 161 163 175 179 187

8 The Sky’s the Limit The RAF in focus Photographing the Few Portraying the Luftwaffe Newspaper and magazine cartoons Magazine illustrations Newspaper and magazine advertisements Posters War art − official and semi-official Battle iconography in retrospect

189 189 192 197 198 206 208 212 214 222

9 Combat Report People’s war: Britain and the Battle Persuading America The Axis: Germany and Italy Persuading the world Winning the propaganda war

224 224 236 244 246 249

10 The R.A.F. in Action Cinema, propaganda and the RAF America and the Few Retrospect and post-war cinema

251 251 266 275

Contents ix

11 To So Few Publishing propaganda Official and semi-official propaganda Unofficial propaganda Inspiring the young – official and unofficial publications Post-war historiography

278 278 280 301 304 307

Conclusion

311

War Artists’ Appendix

315

Bibliography

317

Index

336

List of Illustrations

Figures 1 2 3 4

Relationship between events and subsequent media coverage Engagement with the news during May–November 1940 BBC and Deutschlandsender broadcasts of air claims News ‘currency’ of daily BBC bulletins

97 98 99 120

Plates Cover image: 19 Squadron Spitfires from Duxford in a ‘vic’, 1938. 1 Diagram showing the organisation of layered British air defences. 2 Rolls Royce advertisement for its superb Merlin engine with Spitfires. 3 Pilots at readiness, playing draughts. 4 Eric Kennington’s portrait of Flight Lieutenant A.G. Malan. 5 19 and 616 Squadron fighter pilots ‘scrambling’. 6 Churchill’s 20.8.1940 ‘psalm form’ speech. 7 A poster that said it all. 8 Heinkel He111 ablaze during an attack. 9 Punch’s ‘The Crammer’ cartoon. 10 A Sergeant pilot and a Flight Lieutenant colleague. 11 ‘A Polish Sergeant Pilot’ by Cuthbert Orde. 12 32 Squadron pilots at Hawkinge. 13 Pilot Officer Keith Gillman at Hawkinge. 14 Punch’s ‘A new game for Neptune’ cartoon. 15 Aircraft advertisements in The Aeroplane. 16 Photograph of five aircrew. 17 Pilot Officer Thomas Neil’s portrait by Eric Kennington. 18 Battle of Britain oil painting by Paul Nash. 19 Air Fight over Portland oil painting by Richard Eurich. 20 Spitfire cockpit photograph used to support Spitfire Fund campaigns. 21 Illustration of an RAF fighter’s attack on Me109s. 22 Front cover of 1941 Canadian Battle of Britain pamphlet. 23 Front cover of Puffin’s Battle of Britain book. 24 William Rothenstein’s portrait of Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding.

x

Acknowledgements and Permissions

At the University of Northampton, I would particularly like to thank my teaching colleague Stephen Young for his support and encouragement; Dave Keskeys and Dr Jude Ackroyd for their support; Dr Chris Ringrose for his advice about Holinshed and Hall; and George Payne, Genine O’Neill and staff in the library who helped with many book requests. More broadly, thanks to Professor Michael Paris for his valued assistance with Eagle Squadron films, Sally Stenning for providing valuable guidance on aircraft claim statistics and Malcolm Brown for allowing me to use material in his Spitfire Summer book. Pauline and Barry Campion are thanked for their support and encouragement; Jean and Judd Procter have also contributed to my being able to conceive of and write this book, also offering encouragement and valuable support with permissions. And to Luke, Ollie and Louis who would say that they’ve heard rather too much about all this – hopefully, it will prove interesting at a later time. Most importantly, grateful thanks to Suzanne Stenning for her unstinting support, encouragement, humour, comments on my ideas and writing, and her wise guidance on the nature of art in wartime – there would be no book without her. For permission to use material, or access to archives, the following organisations are gratefully acknowledged: the British Broadcasting Corporation, the British Library, the British Universities Film & Video Council, The Churchill Archive, The National Archives, the RAF Museum and the Imperial War Museum. Permission to reproduce text in magazines, newspapers and books is also gratefully acknowledged: Adam Matthews Publications, The Aeroplane magazine, Punch magazine, Tribune magazine, Country Life magazine, Flight International magazine, Associated Newspapers, Illustrated London News, Mirrorpix, News International, Solo Syndication and Telegraph Media Group. Magee’s High Flight is reproduced by kind permission of This England magazine. The front cover of The Battle of Britain by David Garnett is reproduced by permission of Penguin Group (UK). Extracts reproduced from Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West (Copyright © Estate of Rebecca West 1941) are by permission of PFD (www.pfd.co.uk) on behalf of the Estate of Rebecca West; and copyright 1940, 1941 renewed © 1968, 1969 by Rebecca West – used by permission of Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Extracts from Postscripts by J.B. Priestley (Copyright © Estate of J.B. Priestley 1940) are also by permission of PFD (www.pfd.co.uk) on behalf of the Estate of J.B. Priestley. The Paul Richey extract is courtesy of B.T. Batsford and Anova Books. The excerpt from England’s Hour by Vera xi

xii Acknowledgements and Permissions

Brittain is included by permission of Mark Bostridge and Timothy BrittainCatlin, Literary Executors for the Vera Brittain Estate, 1970. The Churchill extract from What Did You Do in the War Auntie? by Tom Hickman is published by BBC Books, and reprinted by permission of the Random House Group Ltd. Diary extracts taken from We Are at War: The Diaries of Five Ordinary People in Extraordinary Times by Simon Garfield are published by Ebury Press and reprinted by permission of the Random House Group Ltd. Extracts from The Memoirs of Lord Ismay, by H.K. Ismay, are published by William Heinemann Ltd, and reprinted by permission of the Random House Group Ltd. The modified version of the table giving British and German broadcast claims for aircraft, and the responses to Charles Gardner’s broadcast on 14 July 1940, are from The War of Words by Asa Briggs (1970) – copyright © by permission of Oxford University Press. Extracts from The Last Enemy by Richard Hillary (Copyright © Richard Hillary, 1942) reprinted by permission of A.M. Heath & Co Ltd. Extracts from Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters of George Orwell: My Country Right or Left, 1940–43 by George Orwell (Copyright © George Orwell, 1968) by permission of Bill Hamilton as the Literary Executor of the Estate of the Late Sonia Brownell Orwell and Secker & Warburg Ltd; and copyright © 1968 by Sonia Brownell Orwell and renewed 1966 by Mark Hamilton, reprinted by permission of Harcourt, Inc. Extracts from Churchill’s speeches and correspondence reproduced with the permission of Curtis Brown Ltd, London on behalf of The Estate of Winston Churchill – copyright © Winston S. Churchill. Extracts from the Mass-Observation archive reproduced with the permission of Curtis Brown Ltd, London, on behalf of the Trustees of the Mass-Observation Archive – copyright © Trustees of the Mass-Observation Archive. Extracts from SackvilleWest’s Country Notes in Wartime reproduced with the permission of Curtis Brown Ltd, London on behalf of The Estate of Vita Sackville-West – copyright © Vita Sackville-West. Allingham extracts are from The Oaken Heart © 1941 – Rights Limited, A Chorion Company, all rights reserved. Extracts from Panter-Downes’ London War Notes reproduced by permission of Pollinger Ltd, on behalf of the Estate of Mollie Panter-Downes. Cartoons, captions and the O.C. Chave poem from Punch reproduced with permission of Punch Ltd., www.punch.co.uk. Every effort has been made to contact copyright holders. Should anyone believe that I have failed to acknowledge the proper sources, this will be rectified in future editions – as will any errors in the text.

Abbreviations

AuxAF AASF ABC ACAS AHB AI AM ATA AUS BBC BBFC BEF CAS CBS C-in-C CO DCAS DFC DFM DPR DSO FAA FO GPO HI HQ ILN IO LMF MAP M-O MOI NCO PA POW

Auxiliary Air Force Advanced Air Striking Force Audit Bureau of Circulation Ltd Assistant Chief of the Air Staff Air Historical Branch Air Intelligence Air Ministry Air Transport Auxiliary Assistant Under-Secretary of State British Broadcasting Corporation British Board of Film Censors British Expeditionary Force Chief of the Air Staff Columbia Broadcasting Service Commander-in-Chief Commanding Officer Deputy Chief of the Air Staff Distinguished Flying Cross Distinguished Flying Medal Directorate of Public Relations Distinguished Service Order Fleet Air Arm Foreign Office General Post Office Home Intelligence Headquarters The Illustrated London News Intelligence Officer Lack of Moral Fibre Ministry of Aircraft Production Mass-Observation Ministry of Information Non-commissioned officer Press Association Prisoner of War xiii

xiv Abbreviations

PR PWE RAF RAFVR RCAF RDF RFC RIO RN RNAS RNLI SNCO SOE US VC WAAC WAAF

Public Relations Political Warfare Executive Royal Air Force Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve Royal Canadian Air Force Radio Direction Finding (Radar) Royal Flying Corps Regional Information Officer Royal Navy Royal Naval Air Service Royal National Lifeboat Institution Senior Non-commissioned Officer Special Operations Executive United States of America Victoria Cross War Artists’ Advisory Committee Women’s Auxiliary Air Force

References ad. c.p. f.p. i.d.c. i.f.c. pl. r.d.c.

Advertisement page Centre pages Facing page Inner dust-cover Inner front-cover Plate Rear dust-cover

Chronology – May 1940–March 1941

10 May 1940 27 May 3 June 4 June

Winston Churchill became Prime Minister as Germany’s offensive in France and the Low Countries began. Dunkirk evacuation began, with air cover provided by home-based fighter squadrons including Spitfires. Completion of Dunkirk evacuation. Small exploratory Luftwaffe raids tested the RAF defences. Some historians consider this Phase 1 of the Battle of Britain, giving six in all. Churchill’s Commons’ speech about Dunkirk included a tribute to the RAF’s fighter pilots. This marked the beginning of phase one of the air war propaganda with modest ‘hot’ BBC and press coverage of air battles and RAF claims in early skirmishes over the Channel. The Daily Mirror and other papers were using front-page ‘cricket scores’ from early July. This phase continued until Adler Tag.

18 June

25 June 3 July 10 July 14 July

16 July

1 August 8 August

Churchill’s ‘Finest Hour’ speech to the Commons; suggested start date of Battle of Britain by some commentators in late 1940. BBC broadcast of Spitfires over Britain feature. French Fleet disabled by the Royal Navy at Oran and Mers-El-Kebir. Official start date for the Battle of Britain with attacks on Channel convoys marking Phase 1, from 10 July to 7 August. Charles Gardner’s BBC account of an air battle over Dover broadcast led to a fierce debate concerning the moral issues in war reporting. Hitler’s War Directive No. 16 about the invasion of England set out a number of qualifying conditions, with invasion preparations to begin. Hitler’s War Directive No. 17 ordered the destruction of the RAF by the Luftwaffe; it in turn devised plans for Adlerangriff. Start of Phase 1 in the Air Ministry’s account of the Battle of Britain. This was Phase 2 of the official, revised battle dates, from 8 August to 23 August, with intensifying attacks against shipping, and from 12 August, against radar stations and coastal airfields. xv

xvi Chronology – May 1940–March 1941

Phase two of the air war propaganda saw intense BBC, press and newsreel coverage of massive air assaults and the RAF’s ‘cricket score’ claims for aircraft shot down, and from mid-August, frequent coverage of air battles over Dover as reported by US and other correspondents. Photographs of pilots graced magazine front pages, with extensive coverage of air fights. 13 August 15 August

18 August 20 August

24 August

25/26 August

7 September

The delayed Adler Tag began but misfired because of poor communications and weather conditions. Luftwaffe lost 57 aircraft in daylight air battles over Britain in a massive effort to defeat the RAF, with extensive media coverage the following day. From mid-August there were increasing disputes between Britain and Germany about the accuracy of aircraft claims, a sceptical American press seeking independent confirmation. A key date with serious aircraft losses on both sides, again with extensive media coverage. Churchill’s ‘Never in the field of human conflict’ tribute to ‘the Few’ in the Commons. Its use as an epigraph began almost immediately and continued thereafter. Start of Phase 3 of the official period of the battle, lasting until 6 September, with heavy attacks against RAF airfields designed to wear down its fighter strength. First RAF raid by Bomber Command on Berlin, following an attack in error on central London by several Luftwaffe bombers on 24 August. Major Luftwaffe daylight attack on London marked the start of the Blitz and official Phase 4, from 7 September until 30 September. Bomber Command began attacks against the assembly of invasion barges in Channel ports. Phase three of the air war propaganda focused upon the impact of the Blitz on the home front, and the attacks on civilians in London and other cities and towns. The air war was covered, as for example after the massed air battles on 15 September; the prospects for invasion appeared to hinge on the RAF’s ability to hold firm. American domestic audiences became much more involved with regular radio and press reporting of the Blitz.

15 September

RAF thwarted major Luftwaffe daylight attacks against London claiming ‘185 raiders shot down’, a figure dramatically reduced after the war.

Chronology – May 1940–March 1941 xvii

16 September 17 September 1 October

Extensive worldwide media coverage of the attacks on 15 September. Hitler postponed plans for Operation Sea Lion. Luftwaffe high altitude fighter-bomber attacks began making Phase 5, 1 October–31 October, the final, official period of the Battle of Britain. Phase four of the air war propaganda was an acknowledgement by early October that no invasion was likely to take place, the massed air battles between the RAF and Luftwaffe having then entered a new phase. Large air battles continued to receive attention but continuing attacks against London and other cities were the regular front-page stories. This continued into November, but the pace of the air fighting had slackened off.

2 October

17 October

31 October 15 November 21 November 25 November 5 December

11 December 29 March 1941

Hitler ordered that Operation Sea Lion preparations were to be ‘largely dismantled’, following continued RAF attacks against barges, but the invasion plans at that stage were not abandoned. RAF senior officers’ conference to discuss the role of ‘Big Wings’ that later led to the controversial dismissal of Dowding and Park. Official end date for the Battle of Britain. Hurricane pilot Flight Lieutenant Nicolson awarded the VC. Hitler confirmed that it might be necessary to revert to Sea Lion in early 1941 in his War Directive No. 18. Dowding, ‘the architect of victory’, replaced as Head of RAF Fighter Command. Hitler confirmed in a conference that Sea Lion could be left out of future military equations, and had therefore effectively been abandoned. Park, head of 11 Group, replaced after his successful defensive tactics over south-east England. The Battle of Britain booklet published by the Air Ministry to enormous success; the illustrated version was produced and released slightly later. Phase five, the ‘cold’ air war propaganda began in 1941. A steady and diverse output of books, films, newspaper articles and art consolidated and developed the Few’s status as the war proceeded.

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Introduction

The disputed invasion threat The Battle of Britain was arguably a campaign of two dimensions: the first was the hard business of aerial combat, and the second, its parallel propaganda war. The foregoing chronology confirms how symbiotic these two aspects were, the actual phases of the Battle of Britain coinciding with the modulated twists and turns of the propaganda. It was fought out in the full glare of the international media, combat results rapidly broadcast and disseminated, sometimes almost in real-time. A consequence is that the propaganda and the actual ‘strategic’ results have become entangled. ‘Strategic’ in the sense that the Battle of Britain’s significance was clearer after the war than it had been during the events themselves, confirming that with hindsight it is easier to invest a range of seemingly unrelated elements with more connectedness than was apparent at the time. Richard Overy argues that during the Battle of Britain itself neither Britain nor Germany viewed it as the key strategic event that it has since been judged [284, p. 267]. This is not to suggest that the Battle of Britain [Battle, hereafter] was afforded undue significance through the powerful propaganda that it spawned, but in order to better understand this symbiosis it is important firstly to consider wartime and post-war perceptions, central to which was German Chancellor Adolf Hitler’s thwarted Operation Sea Lion (Seel¨owe), the invasion of Britain. Thereafter, I shall return to Churchill’s ‘Few’, the RAF’s fighter pilots and the extraordinary propaganda that was projected around the world in response to their heroism and prowess. From there my aims can be set out, and the book’s structure confirmed. Perhaps surprisingly, I shall begin by considering revisionists’ views about the Battle’s importance. Much of its wartime propaganda strongly projected Fighter Command’s victory over Hitler’s air force, the Luftwaffe; ‘the Few’ [the Few, hereafter] thereafter heroicised for saving Britain from invasion. This powerful 1

2 The Good Fight

leitmotif took root as the events unfolded and was officially consolidated in early 1941 [93]. Some historians claim that this is a myth, citing the lack of clear documentary evidence for a serious plan of invasion. This belief began to take hold in the 1950s and 1960s, and again during the 1980s, several British historians suggesting Sea Lion was ‘half-hearted’ (or worse, half-baked) [327, p. 67]. German historian Klaus Maier has argued both that Hitler used the invasion threat as ‘an instrument of psychological warfare’ [258, p. 369] and that the Battle and threat of invasion was a feint or foil to cover preparations for Operation Barbarossa, the invasion of Russia in June 1941 [327, p. 67; 258, pp. 15–21]. In April 1998 the BBC’s Timewatch argued the same (given the BBC’s vital propaganda role during the Battle, a striking change of heart). Maier confirms that Army High Command planning for Barbarossa began in early July [258, p. 371], but this of itself is not proof that Hitler had abandoned plans to invade Britain. Perhaps in anticipation, the invasion ‘issue’ had been raised as early as August 1943, with an acknowledgement following the defeat of the Luftwaffe that some believed it was merely a threat [2, p. 3]. One could equally say in response to the ‘half-hearted’ theory that Hitler sought a quick victory over the British, the hastily assembled invasion not viable in the face of dogged RAF resistance, a potent RN, and the Army. It is undeniable that extensive attempts were made to assemble an invasion fleet and prepare for Sea Lion, some 1700 powered barges and 200 large ships assembled in the invasion ports [244, p. 254] – many were Rhine barges urgently needed elsewhere in the Greater Reich. The assembly, re-equipping and training of German Army, or Wehrmacht units was undertaken (and not just for propaganda), involving an invasion force of some 100,000 men. Mock preparations and deception would have been much easier, especially – given the diversion of troops and weapons – when early consideration was underway for Barbarossa by 21 July [258, p. 375]. Following the extraordinary collapse of France and then Dunkirk, Hitler and his Generals had not expected to prepare for invasion, but this did not make the resulting preparations half-hearted or an empty threat. Revisionists have also claimed that it was the RN’s primacy that prevented invasion. Duncan Grinnell-Milne first argued this in his 1958 Silent Victory, Hitler’s Navy, the Kriegsmarine, no match for a powerful RN Home Fleet [428, p. 29]. In 1974 one of the Few, H.R. Allen, also believed that it was the RN who deterred invasion, and not the RAF [112, pp. 204–7]. Although Richard Hough & Denis Richards do not claim that it was the RN’s presence alone that decided the issue, they commented in 1989 that the RN was a key obstacle to German ambitions [227, p. 327]. In May 2005 on BBC’s Radio 4 historians argued again that the RN would have vanquished a German invasion, the Few’s achievement not crucial. The RN’s destruction of the French Fleet was cited, denying Hitler vital extra warships. Again, the Few’s prowess was not disputed, only the significance of their aerial success. Also in 2005, Derek Robinson

Introduction 3

argued a very similar case [312]. I shall return to these views about the RN, below. The RN’s role was revisited in August 2006, three academics persuading Brian James that its strength (although untested) prevented invasion [231]. Confirming the intense interest in the Battle (and the value of attracting media attention to promote revisionist opinion), a fresh debate was generated (but which by mid2008, has faded away). The Few’s brave and skilful defence of British air space was never in doubt, the Battle recognised as a formative experience. However, James argues that the myth needed to be revised, the facts rebalanced to avoid the powerful (apparently tumultuous) propaganda of the past. Several curious arguments were advanced. For example, the Battle was a necessary myth that allowed Britain to feel more powerful than was actually the case, and eased sensitivities occasioned by the loss of Empire during the 1950s and 1960s. However, as discussed in later chapters, historiographically the Battle’s significance was being weighed even as it drew to a close, subsequent wartime and early post-war attitudes already taking shape. James also claims that the Few’s achievement was a substitute victory for the RN’s certain defeat of Sea Lion. This unconvincing (and slightly ungracious) view is capable of being taken to extremes concerning any event where an outcome might alternatively have been decided by land, sea or air, had the opportunity arisen. In response, Bill Bond of the Battle of Britain Historical Society draws attention to the more than 24 RN warships sunk or damaged before the end of 1940, that did not include those six sunk by bombers during Dunkirk. Without RAF air cover the RN’s ships, ports and re-supply organisation would also have been severely damaged by the Luftwaffe and U-boats in an invasion [127, p. 18]. Moreover, the impact of Luftwaffe air power against civilian and industrial targets meant that without fighter defences Britain would have been forced to sue for peace, the RN wielding little impact upon enemy bombers. Bond further suggests that an uncontested invasion would have been made following a peace agreement, at which point the RN would have been powerless to intervene [127, p. 20]. As difficult to prove as revisionists’ arguments for the RN’s prowess during an attempted invasion, Bond’s article adds extra dimensions that are easily overlooked. Letters and editorial comment were also published following the article, confirming a breadth of passionate opinion [364, p. 14; 428, pp. 28–9; 429, p. 27; 437, p. 23; 573, p. 3; 574, p. 18]. Responses concerning the invasion included from the naval perspective: a powerful RN would have destroyed any attempts; the Kriegsmarine never believed that it could outfight the RN; both the RAF and RN played a heroic role, and were equally vital; the RN might have defeated an attempt, but the RAF actually did so; RAF air superiority was essential to protect the RN, and; (as a reminder of the hazards of no air cover) the RN was

4 The Good Fight

given a beating in 1941 in Crete and elsewhere. Bomber Command by destroying many invasion barges (to which might be added the threat of Bomber and Coastal Commands in the face of invasion) also played a part. Additionally, had the RAF lost (and air cover for RAF bombers and RN warships), an invasion would have been attempted. Other views concerned morale and propaganda: the Battle provided an essential morale-boost following Dunkirk; it punctured the myth of air power as a war-winning strategy, giving heart to millions across the world; it was an essential and defining event in which the RAF could take great pride; and, Churchill as the Prime Minister created the myth of the Few for his own political purposes. Many of these are legitimate comments and confirm the multifaceted nature of Britain’s resistance during the Battle. Perhaps conscious of the media interest generated during August 2006, revisionist historians again considered the Battle in BBC History Magazine’s November 2007 issue, this time by focusing first upon counterfactual history in respect of the Spitfire and its almost not being available to the RAF, and second, whether the fighter pilots were sufficiently able to take on the Luftwaffe in 1940. In the latter article it was argued that the Air Ministry greatly overstated the RAF’s achievements in its propaganda pamphlet, the actual aircraft shot down not justifying the legend built up around them – in other words, many of the pilots were not properly trained, and the RAF as a whole was ill-prepared. Neither argument was new in the sense of hitherto unrealised significance. These issues aside (not least because on the one hand, there were just enough Spitfires available, and on the other, the fighters pilots did quite a lot of damage to the Luftwaffe even if, as is claimed, only a few could shoot straight), more interesting in respect of the invasion question raised above, was Christine Goulter’s short piece about Fighter Command’s role [212*]. Curiously, Goulter rather contradicts herself in this later article, her contribution to the earlier ‘Pie in the Sky’ article above suggesting that it was principally the RN who deterred invasion [231, p. 38]. In this later assessment Goulter argues that the war in the air was the fulcrum of the campaign, Nazi concerns about the RN an underlying – but not key – deterrent. RAF air superiority was thus the determining factor, she argues, a view held by the German High Command [212*, p. 24]. This issue is returned to shortly. Beyond acknowledging the sheer range of opinion, in company with many post-war historians, I cannot offer a definitive answer to the invasion ‘issue’. What I can do is to seek to place the invasion threat in a parallel context with the propaganda of the time. It is easy to forget that propagandists during the Battle itself were not primarily concerned with history, but survival. Much that followed played to these perceived hazards in what was a dynamic and critical moment. Field Marshal Alanbrooke, the commander of the British Army’s Home Forces who would be most directly involved in repelling an invasion, was very

Introduction 5

clear about the threat in his diary [139*, ch. 4]. It also engendered considerable media and public speculation [210]. For example, Invasion featured a series of articles printed originally in the Evening Standard concerning the prospects of a German land assault as the Battle developed [5]. Too numerous to include in this account, many newspapers and magazines similarly carried features about Britain’s prospects, the world – holding its collective breath – also captivated by the ongoing drama. It is necessary here to consider RAF Fighter Command’s role in helping to prevent invasion (the historical basis of their fame). Hitler faced two challenges in crossing the Channel. The first, as argued for by revisionists above, was the primacy of a powerful and resolute RN who come what may, would have courageously steamed straight into the armada. No one disputes this. The RN would have played a key defensive role, and Germany’s hope was that it could be neutered. Because the Kriegsmarine could not have defeated the RN in a straight Channel fight, the task had fallen to the Luftwaffe [227, p. 327]. On 1 August 1940 Hitler in his War Directive No. 17 had therefore specifically ordered the destruction of the RAF by the Luftwaffe as a prelude to Sea Lion, to secure air superiority over the Channel. The RAF not having been sufficiently degraded by mid-September 1940 [258, p. 371], Hitler’s second challenge was therefore its potential to wreak havoc with his invasion armada. Goulter affirmed the German High Command’s anxiety about the RAF’s strength, above [212*]. Despite Luftwaffe fighter opposition, RAF fighters would have tackled Luftwaffe bombers seeking to attack RN ships, and protected their own bombers. Moreover, RAF bombers were potent threats against converted river barges (even allowing for inaccurate bombing, dud bombs and modest explosive impact). Thereafter, the RAF would have attacked beachhead troops and equipment in support of the British Army, who by September 1940 were better prepared following Dunkirk (and during which the Luftwaffe had confirmed what fighters and dive-bombers could achieve against troops trapped on the beaches). Conversely, had the Luftwaffe succeeded in neutering the RAF and keeping its fighters at bay, the lack of RAF air cover would have posed serious problems for the RN. Even allowing for the fact that the Luftwaffe had little specialist anti-shipping capability during 1940, the RN’s experiences during the Battle for Crete [242, pp. 137–8], the Malta convoys [207, pp. 360, 435] and the loss of the Prince of Wales and Repulse [242, p. 211] confirmed the hazards of uncontested air attacks, despite heroic resistance. Clive Ponting argues that the RN would have found it difficult to operate in the Channel without RAF air superiority [294, p. 137]. As to the issue of ‘half-heartedness’ noted above, one can reflect on how the German High Command’s invasion decision might have gone in the face of weak, ineffective or non-existent RAF fighter defences, Bomber Command highly vulnerable during daylight operations against a German invasion

6 The Good Fight

force without fighter cover. Emplaced large-calibre German guns might also have taken some toll of the RN’s warships. A key issue was that of air superiority over the Channel and proposed landing areas, the RAF refusing to cede significant control to the Luftwaffe. On 31 July 1940 Hitler had confirmed that Sea Lion would hinge upon victory in the air, the decision deadline 15 September 1940 [258, p. 375]. Admiral Raeder, the head of the Kriegsmarine, on 14 September recorded that the RAF’s continuing strength made the invasion risks very great, the air situation not satisfactorily resolved [152, p. 256]. Hitler resisted his appeal to call off the invasion on that date and demanded one final effort against the RAF [139*, p. 219]. Following 15 September – and the presence of some 250 RAF fighters attacking the first Luftwaffe wave heading for London (and repeated later that day – hardly an RAF down to its last few hundred fighters, as Reichsmarchall Goering, the head of the Luftwaffe had believed) – any lingering doubts must have been dispelled, Hitler thereafter postponing Sea Lion on 17 September [258, p. 371]. Given the potential for failure, high troop and equipment losses, and the very negative impact upon Germany’s international prestige, it is hardly surprising that there was no rush to invade. Sea Lion preparations were officially wound down from 2 October, and despite Hitler’s view that it might be necessary to revert to the original invasion plans in early 1941, it was clear by 5 December 1940 that it had been utterly abandoned [258, p. 405]. Hitler’s High Command thus prevaricated, preferring instead the night Blitz (and the developing Battle of the Atlantic) to defeat Britain. Nightly attacks continued until May 1941 the Luftwaffe only diverting its bombers east to Barbarossa preparations when it was clear that Britain would not be bombed into submission. German historians suggest on this basis that the established British chronology misleadingly places favourable emphasis upon one aspect of a much longer air campaign that did not end with the daylight battles [258, pp. 402–7]. Be that as it may, the Few were not called upon to prevent invasion simply because following their success against the Luftwaffe, none was attempted. Of the three fighting Services it was principally the Few who resisted the Luftwaffe during the daytime Battle, the RN and Army not engaging to any substantial degree. It takes nothing away from either to affirm this, or to agree that the Few’s heroic resistance was a decisive factor in dissuading Hitler’s plans. It was not the propaganda that persuaded Hitler and his Generals, but the harsh realities of aircraft and crews already lost over Britain and the Channel – and the affirmation that the RAF remained a potent threat.

The propaganda war The parallel propaganda war developed along complementary lines, the following key themes understandable in the light of the threat of invasion. The

Introduction 7

convergence of a nation immersed in its ‘finest hour’, its back to the wall and media projections of genuine valour and heroism has always made for a superb historical epic. During the summer and autumn of 1940, the Battle became a prism through which Britain’s defiant resolution was refracted and sharply projected to a worldwide audience. The RAF’s ‘fighter boys’, slugging it out to the death with Germany’s air force – the Luftwaffe – was perceived almost immediately as a conflict between good and evil – the RAF David taking on the Luftwaffe Goliath – not least because of Nazi interwar propaganda. Overy suggests that pre-war propaganda had created a misleading situation, the RAF perceived as technically poor and short of both fighters and pilots by the Luftwaffe, whilst the RAF in turn were fighting what they believed to be a vastly more powerful enemy. The reality put the Luftwaffe at a disadvantage [284, p. 128]. Fortune aided the brave, the RAF’s fighter pilots attracting worldwide attention as the ‘new Elizabethans’, a strong parallel suggested between the 1588 Spanish Armada and Hitler’s invasion plans. Britain’s stance became inseparably fused with the scimitar’s edge connoted by Spitfires and Hurricanes doing battle in the ‘burning blue’. American reporter Vincent Sheean invoked an almost Arthurian vision: ‘Such were the vast and shadowy outlines of a possible future which appeared in the sky over the cliffs of Dover, drawn in the mist by the Spitfire’s wing’ [84, p. 160]. The air war was thus projected through media publicity and propaganda as a struggle fought out with these iconic fighter emblems of Britain’s technological modernity. Drama, speed, dash, skill, power and momentum were graphically conveyed through film, radio, print and eyewitness accounts. These media served to project the RAF’s successes to national and international wartime audiences both during and following the Battle. Churchill, too, seized the moment: the sparkling conjunction of his high praise for ‘the Few’ couched in resonant Shakespearean oratory affirmed Britain’s valiant history and heritage, and the RAF’s streamlined modernity. This achievement is all the more remarkable given the circumstances in which the propaganda war was played out in Britain: the MOI was disorganised and slow to respond, the AM initially concerned to control all aspects of the material released about the RAF. Its propaganda victory was achieved to a large degree through the willing co-operation of the British media who mostly unquestioningly projected daily the RAF’s exaggerated claims for enemy aircraft shot down. Although the figures were sometimes doubted – and had been proved to be inaccurate by secret RAF intelligence assessments – the Luftwaffe’s claims were by comparison absurd, serving to progressively undermine their credibility. Internationally, these ‘cricket scores’ proved vital to perceptions of success or failure. Critically, the real point was not the veracity of the aircraft claims, but the actual losses being suffered by either side. The Battle provided a timely opportunity

8 The Good Fight

to boost morale through powerful propaganda – the aircraft claims a key component – but it is also arguable that as the fighting intensified many in Britain were increasingly minded to see the young flyers as heroes, the Few’s valour, grit and prowess the stuff of legend only months after the daylight air war had been concluded. In the foregoing discussion I have sought to confirm the principal historical perceptions of the Battle’s importance, whether long established or recent in date. Turning to the key focus of the book, in a warning about the hazards of studying propaganda given in 1938 readers were advised to consider it objectively and to beware the seductive qualities of one’s own country’s projections [79, p. 24]. With this advice in mind my two main aims are focused very much upon the propaganda war itself, rather than the Battle’s strategic importance as discussed above. My aims are first, to understand the manner in which propaganda about the Few developed as the Battle progressed, the key agencies involved in its wartime propagation and finally, its progressive consolidation into an historical ‘epic’. And second, to gauge the importance and success of the propaganda war in sustaining morale in RAF and home front constituencies, and less critically, internationally. Lastly, I have also sought to create a work of reference and review that details and draws upon an extensive range of primary source material. To achieve these aims I have arranged the book in broadly three parts, which seek first to set the context for the propaganda war, the key organisations and personalities, the nature of the Battle, the fighter pilots and their morale and also tributes to their prowess. Second, to detail and consider the extensive range of propaganda projected during the Battle itself, and lastly to assess its impact or ‘reach’ in terms of morale. Third, the consolidation of the Battle as an epic, and heroicisation of the Few is considered, the conclusion returning to the importance of the propaganda as a distinct, parallel aspect of the air war. For ease of reading all dates and months refer to 1940 unless otherwise indicated. Pilots’ names confirm the highest gazetted rank held during the Battle (excluding that of ‘acting’, a common status for many) [358] – many individuals achieved more senior rank thereafter.

1 A Tangle of Vapour Trails

Defining propaganda Military propaganda found its feet in the First World War, and reached impressive heights in the Second. Prior to the First World War propaganda had not been depreciatory, but had become so through Allied successes. During that conflict the advent of mass media technology was a clear factor in the conception and projection of propaganda, enabling the wide dissemination of persuasive information ‘developed in the context of modernity’ [240, p. 1]. In the hands of professional propagandists these gains were consolidated; developments during the 1920s and 1930s in Germany and Soviet Russia being notably effective. Film, print and sound were exploited to project ‘information’ to mass audiences. Even in democratic nations propaganda became a vital instrument of government control and policy projection, especially during periods of crisis [339]. Edward Bernays published in 1928 what amounted to a crystallisation of these concepts in a manual of propaganda [123]. Despite these earlier developments, James Chapman notes that the 1930s witnessed a range of publications on aspects of propaganda theory, but it proved difficult to arrive at a single definition because of confusion over exactly what it was [150, pp. 42–5]. S. Rogerson suggested in 1938 that propaganda was still widely misunderstood, despite widespread usage of the term [79, p. 7]. A.J. MacKenzie, in the same year, thought the answer a straightforward one in military usage, propaganda the essential fourth dimension in war making after land, sea and air capability [54, p. 364]. Events during the Battle would prove his opinion prophetic. Difficulties in reaching a precise propaganda definition continued into 1941 where M-O, an independent social survey organisation, considered many aspects of the government’s home front propaganda campaigns. Written for a general audience, the report argued that small items of news printed in newspapers counted as propaganda, the projection of events more important than the propagandising of words alone; it also confirmed that all official material 9

10 The Good Fight

developed to persuade the British people was relevant [57, p. 4]. Understanding propaganda in the present age remains as tricky as it did during the war. Writing about the subject in the early 1980s, Kenneth Short suggests that the word itself is ambiguous, being not only a pejorative term in common use, but also an ‘umbrella term’ employed by propagandists – neither is definitive [324, p. 2]. Short further believes on the basis of American military analysis that wartime propaganda, information and education were intended to persuade recipients [324, p. 2]. MacKenzie suggested before the war that propaganda sought to influence others to adopt an identical viewpoint, as determined through a systematic campaign by an individual or group, with agreed principles and aims [54, p. 35]. A synthesis of modern dictionary definitions confirms that propaganda is the organised, systematic dissemination or projection of a given doctrine, information or allegations to assist, promote or injure a cause, government or movement. Publicity is defined as the technique or process of attracting public attention to people by using the mass media. During the war ‘publicity’ featured often in relation to what was really propaganda, and there can be little doubt that official sensibilities preferred that description as more ‘English’ in character, where it was more commonly used to describe propaganda outside government departments [339, p. 90]. Rogerson offered the following ‘tactical’ advice to propagandists: that it should reflect the truth (if only in part), be used within a strategic framework under a unified control, be timely in its projection and, in avoiding the obvious, should take account of psychological considerations amongst constituencies [79, p. 86]. Mackenzie refined these broad themes to seven ‘secrets’ that included the following: repetition; colour (in the sense of personalities and facts); that an element of truth was important; sloganising helped projection, as did a clear objective; the real motives should be concealed; and finally, timeliness was essential [54, pp. 48–77]. The ultimate aim was to galvanise public opinion, propaganda spread by word of mouth the most effective [79, pp. 124–5]. Rogerson’s wise advice about restraint was also important: propagandees should be allowed to reach their own conclusions if these will naturally arise and lead to the desired outcome, rather than being pushed to do so [79, p. 83]. Put crudely, Britain’s propagandists in the MOI (home front), AM (RAF), War Office (British Army), Admiralty (RN) and linked organisations (e.g. the BBC, PWE, SOE or FO) had one simple war aim: to ensure that Britain and its Empire prevailed against Germany. Sustaining high levels of morale was crucial. Subject to the nature of the dimension being fought in and those involved, whether air, land or sea, this broad aim was refined into many smaller objectives. Targeted at specific constituencies, and requiring a sophisticated exploitation of the media, the above agencies experienced different levels of success in their fields. Effective propaganda methodologies were vital, but broad principles underpinned

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 11

them. The M-O 1941 Home Propaganda report identified two principal types of officially sponsored home front MOI propaganda: the first required direct action; the second took a hypothetical view, for example the action that might be required in respect of an invasion [57, p. 7]. Both appeared far more concerned with providing information and guidance than projecting propaganda. In the latter, passive ‘type’, there was an element of the unknown regarding outcomes, the advice for a future time being either critically important or entirely irrelevant. Progressive reworking of theory in the MOI resulted in an approach recognising the value and primacy of an effective news services within a democracy broadcasting accurate and complete information, or ‘truth’ where possible. An important aim for British propagandists was that ‘truthful’ output should be based upon reason rather than appeals to the emotions; explanation considered a more successful approach than exhortation [150, p. 45]. Problematically for the British, a strict adherence to ‘truth’ was unlikely to result in quality propaganda. A danger of unbiased, accurate ‘truth’ in wartime was that followed to its logical conclusion; it might prove difficult not to cast favourable light upon the enemy – the debacle of France’s collapse being one example. Despite this, in many respects Germany’s 1930s propaganda model was deemed to be more effective than Britain’s clumsy, if democratic, early efforts [150, p. 43]. American reporter Ralph Ingersoll affirmed of Britain’s wartime propaganda and censorship that the American people were needlessly afraid of it, and that it was not based on lies and disrespect for truth [46, pp. 141–2]. Success depended on the psychological make-up of ‘propagandees’, identifying and reaching constituencies dependent upon accurately understanding target audiences. Projections were based upon an understanding both of general attitudes to the world and also of societal self-perceptions conditioned by class, culture, economics and experience. This was an important consideration for propagandists where the message was intimately linked with the targeted recipient(s). In terms of social groups it remains more straightforward to assess what was projected rather than what was received – or perceived – in the sense of conscious, passive or active mental acknowledgement. ‘Reach’ expresses this, the extent to which projected propaganda persuaded targeted audiences. In its maturing post-Battle state, Britain’s propaganda was a broadly based strategy that included military deception, white, black or grey propaganda, the latter two covert aspects of misinformation. Sebastian Knowles confirms that MI5 defined propaganda as black, grey or white, depending upon how much truth was included [247, p. xx]. In this usage white propaganda was the unambiguous output directed against the enemy or towards the friendly constituency waging war, but transmitting the same messages. It was therefore derived from an openly acknowledged source, representing the vast bulk of output by the British during the Battle. Black propaganda concerned the broadcasting of radio

12 The Good Fight

output or leafleting that appeared to have been originated within Germany by dissidents opposed to the Nazi regime. Grey propaganda projected itself as being from a neutral source, but was disseminated by one’s enemy. The PWE and SOE developed these forms of propaganda in Britain, but did not come into their own until 1941 [339, pp. 156–7]. White propaganda was the output geared towards the sustenance of morale in Britain and its Empire, and in influencing America. Formal, or official propaganda or publicity was directly or indirectly commissioned, sanctioned, sponsored or otherwise significantly supported by the AM, MOI or RAF. Material affected by official censorship considerations and/or access to controlled materials would be broadly semi-official, as was the case for the BBC, newspapers and newsreel companies, and the many book publishers addressing wholly RAF-related themes. Informal and incidental propaganda was the opposite, for example the accounts by war correspondents and authors who projected positive views about the Few but who were not acting in an official capacity. For the timely processing of information and its dissemination propaganda was useful only whilst it retained currency. It needed to be projected promptly to be useful especially where it sought to exploit a rapidly changing situation. Responses varied accorded to the mediums involved: BBC or foreign ‘hot’ news output and newspapers required very rapid turnarounds of information; weekly magazines and newsreels working to slightly longer timescales would be slightly more flexible as ‘warm’ material; books, art and feature films would be ‘cold’. These broad terms are used throughout to indicate propaganda ‘currency’.

The Air Ministry The RAF was principally concerned with its defensive and offensive operations, its control exercised by the AM. Preoccupied with the actual fighting, the RAF’s operational Commands relied upon the AM’s DPR for propaganda and publicity expertise. The AM had been formed on 2 January 1918, as part of official government with responsibilities for both military and civil aviation. It played a central role in supporting the nascent RAF’s operations during the final period of the First World War, its survival and development in the interwar period, and latterly overseeing a series of 1930s expansions in order to meet the growing Nazi threat [39]. The AM occupied several buildings in London, Air (or Adastral) House on Kingsway in London – previously a hotel – being its HQ. Appearing in several contemporary newsreel items, it presented an imposing, solid fac¸ade, but was not universally liked [118, p. 84; 39, p. 98]. The Secretary of State for Air headed the AM and its Air Council as the president. The Air Council, who in turn directed the RAF, determined its policies. The Air Council through its

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 13

CAS and the Air Members controlled all aspects of the RAF including the four operational Commands, and also Personnel, Supply, Organisation and Training. In conformance with its broadening responsibilities, by 1940 the AM was a behemoth, but was to continue expanding throughout the war years. Details of the AM appeared in the Illustrated magazine on 29 June; key personalities were identified [435, pp. 16–17] – Flight similarly gave broad details of the Air Council [432, between pp. 186 and 187]. The future Commander-in-Chief of Bomber Command and Marshall of the RAF, ‘Bomber’ Harris, began working as the Deputy CAS for Air Chief Marshal Sir Charles Portal soon after his appointment as CAS on 25 October, and recalled that there were too many people employed in each department, a situation made worse by many junior officers being given inappropriate job titles that they erroneously believed entitled them to behave almost as commanders in the field [218, p. 49]. He objected that many in the AM spent most of their time justifying their existence, a response to earlier threats to their jobs [218, p. 50]. Several less critical accounts of the AM’s wartime workings were written post-war [118, chs 6–7; 169, chs 7, 14]. An organisational chart from 1940 confirmed that a Permanent UnderSecretary of State for Air worked closely with the Secretary of State, RAF publicity provided by a small Press Section within the Under-Secretary’s department until war was declared [39, pullout chart, rear]. The Press Section dated back to the formation of the RAF in 1918, originating from press provision within the RNAS and RFC [598, p. 2]. It underwent many changes in the interwar period, and during the early 1920s the Treasury questioned its relevance on a number of occasions, seeking unsuccessfully to close it on cost grounds in 1924 [598, p. 3]. The DPR grew out of this Press Section, its one Press Officer, C.P. Robertson, working to a small committee from 1934 that identified a range of issues raised by RAF expansion. A key aim was to increase RAF recruitment, the existing staff barely able to cope with growing publicity demands [598, p. 4]. In 1935 C.P. Robertson wrote a memorandum on the problems posed by expansion, leading to a new committee and, on 29 January 1937, the adoption of a series of publicity aims. These identified three RAF-related elements: ‘maintenance of the prestige of the RAF as an efficient instrument of defence’; ‘recruitment’; and lastly, to ‘make the public ‘‘air-minded’’ ’ [598, p. 4; 256, p. 23]. An important outcome of these deliberations was to recommend that the existing AM’s Press Section be expanded into a fully functioning press and publicity branch [256, p. 23]. Reporting on 28 September 1937, the committee agreed on a detailed report that established the foundations and structure of the wartime DPR, with responsibility for ‘Press [sic] broadcasting, films, paid advertisements, publicity literature, posters, lectures, displays, exhibitions, and miscellaneous campaigns’ [598, pp. 4–5]. From May 1938 the renamed Press and Publicity Branch embarked upon a process of expansion, providing publicity throughout the period of the Phoney War. In December 1939 it was able to

14 The Good Fight

recruit journalists onto its staff as RAFVR sub-editors, responsible for writing ‘public morale’ stories [318, p. 246]. These latest staff additions had followed an independent report to the Secretary of State for Air dated 10 August 1939, in which it was argued that the current arrangements were inadequate for the purposes of supplying information to the world’s media. The decision was taken to expand and reshape the branch, where a centralised approach to control sought to present the RAF internationally as a powerful, determined and united service able to function as a team [323*, p. 7]. The DPR structure in place in time for the Battle can therefore be dated to late March. This was just over a month before the German attack against France and the Low Countries on 10 May, and the replacement of Neville Chamberlain by Churchill as the Prime Minister. Churchill appointed Sir Archibald Sinclair as the new Secretary of State for Air, replacing Sir Samuel Hoare (March–May 1940), who had replaced Sir Kingsley Wood (June 1938–February 1940). Sinclair served in the role until May 1945 but did not impress everyone: ‘Bomber’ Harris remarked that he was always concerned about the welfare of the RAF, but lacking the powers of persuasion that came naturally to Churchill, Sinclair was less able to persuade people [218, p. 58]. An example was reported in the 27 September issue of The Aeroplane in ‘The Air Minister on the war’ in which Sinclair talked about the war from his perspective. It applauded his view concerning the RAF’s prowess: ‘let none doubt that they will ultimately achieve that mastery of the air which will ensure victory for our cause’; but in the editor’s view it was ‘a speech well considered but, unfortunately, marred by a wordiness and a superfluous wealth of dramatic gesture which tinged it with artificiality’ [483, pp. 335–6]. HI reports occasionally provided an insight into the Air Minister’s impact upon the wider public. On 22 August it was reported from Cardiff that ‘The Air Minister’s broadcast had a mixed reception’ [600 (22.8.1940)]. Similarly, the Wartime Social Survey investigated the popularity of broadcasters by interviewing 551 people during the period 23–28 August. Without prompting, it found that only 14 people, confirming only a very modest impact within the sample, mentioned Sinclair but this was within the range of other speakers such as Minister for Aircraft Production Lord Beaverbrook, Minister of Information Duff Cooper and the RAF’s Air Marshal Sir Philip Joubert [600 (6.9.1940)]. Sir Arthur Street was the Permanent Under-Secretary of State for Air, a wellregarded official who served in that role throughout the entire war. The CAS was Air Chief Marshal Sir Cyril Newall (September 1937–October 1940), replaced by Air Chief Marshal Sir Charles Portal, who served until January 1946. Senior officials and officers gave talks, speeches and made broadcasts, often to raise money for war bonds and new weaponry. An organisational chart for the AM suggests that in 1940 the newly created, rapidly expanding DPR remained within the responsibility of Sir Arthur Street’s department, as had the original Press Section [196, p. 114]. Under the new scheme Air Vice-Marshal Sir Richard Peck, was

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 15

responsible for PR in the AM, as was the ACAS(G) for ‘General’ matters [256, p. 34; 291, p. 52]. The 1949 AM organisation chart records that the AUS(G) remained within the department of the Permanent Under-Secretary of State for Air, but was headed by a civil servant rather than an RAF senior officer [196, p. 115]. Prior to this, Peck was the Director-General of Operations at the outbreak of war, and in March was ACAS(O) and (I), or Operations and Intelligence, with a special interest in night defence [303, p. 205, note 34]. This experience at the highest levels of RAF operational planning was of immense value to the AM’s PR credibility. As ACAS(G), Peck was the most senior RAF officer concerned directly with publicity, the equivalent of an Army Major-General or a naval Rear Admiral, and worked to Newall and then Portal as CAS. Peck, promoted to Air Marshal by 1943, was still in post discharging those duties [597 (2.3.1943)]. Directorate of Public Relations Air Commodore Harald Peake, in a rank equal to an Army Brigadier or naval Commodore, and one below Air Vice-Marshal, assumed control of the newly created DPR on 26 March as its first Director. Hailing from a wealthy family, Peake served in the Army at the end of the First World War, went to Cambridge and then directed several coal companies in the interwar years. A keen aviator, he had a civilian pilot licence and his own light aircraft in 1936, valuable commodities for the AuxAF that he joined in that year [291, p. 52]. This crucial pool of reserve pilots had been established in July 1924, at that time with a limited number of squadrons. RAF expansion during the mid-1930s led to Peake himself forming two auxiliary squadrons: 609 (West Riding) Auxiliary Squadron was established at Yeadon in February 1936; and newly commissioned, he led 609 as its first Squadron Leader. Following its re-designation as a fighter squadron in December 1938, he established 616 (South Yorkshire) Auxiliary Squadron in November 1938. Both flew Spitfires in the Battle. Now aged 38, and in the rank of Air Commodore, Peake had meanwhile become the first Director of the AuxAF in November 1938 in its build-up to war [291, p. 52]. This was an important senior appointment during a period of enormous expansion and pressure, the numbers of auxiliary fighter squadrons increasing significantly. Peake had presided over this process for some 17 months before he left 609 Squadron in early 1939, based upon which, in addition to his recent RAF experience, he could legitimately claim expert knowledge. This made him a valuable asset as the DPR’s first Director in March, yet the reasons for such a dramatic change in role are unclear. Almost immediately after having taken on the leadership of the DPR, Peake was faced with a dual challenge as the Phoney War came to an end: meeting the demands of the media for air war news; and developing the expanding DPR into an effective organisation. He served as the head of DPR for one year and nine months throughout a key

16 The Good Fight

period that saw the release of the AM booklet [93] and several pilots’ memoirs. As a senior executive it is unlikely that he would concern himself with the day-to-day output of the RAF’s claims in the form of air communiqu´e content. He spent time in strategic meetings, committees, policy formulation, decisionmaking and interviewing for new staff. Daily contacts with senior officers were important in reviewing and affirming policy; the AM held an Air Staff meeting each morning, either Peake or his deputies attending. Following this a meeting was then held with the Heads of Branches [291, p. 56]. His wife from 1952, Dame Felicity Peake, Air Commodore of the WAAF who later became its Director, met him during her service with the AM. Her experience began in January 1941, through to January 1943, during which period she largely headed PR10, the DPR branch concerned with promoting WAAF publicity [291, chs 5, 11]. Peake’s future wife was predictably highly effusive about his outstanding and enlightened leadership [291, p. 58]; novelist H.E. Bates was similarly impressed by his intelligence and charm [121, p. 180]. The staff of the DPR subscribed to a commission for the war artist Thomas Dugdale to paint his portrait, and later gave it to the Officers’ Mess of 609 Squadron. Artist Paul Nash was less flattering in his assessment and viewed Peake, who sat on the WAAC, as ill disposed towards his more surrealist style [217, p. 173]. Peake went on to be the Director of Air Force Welfare. Peake’s successor in January 1942 was Air Commodore William Wedgwood Benn, elevated to the Lords as Viscount Stansgate [318, p. 246]. During the First World War he had first joined the Army, then transferred to the RNAS before flying in the RFC in the rank of Captain as a pilot. For his wartime service he won several gallantry awards. In 1939 he enlisted in the RAF as a junior officer and at the age of 63, flew on several missions [354, p. 662]. Rising to the rank of Air Commodore partly through his publishing connections, he led the DPR for two years until January 1944, thereafter replacing Sinclair as the Secretary of State for Air from July 1945 to September 1946. His son, Anthony Wedgwood Benn MP, served later during the war as an RAF fighter pilot. H.A. Jones, the official historian of the RFC, RNAS and RAF during the First World War and the AHB’s former head, in turn replaced him, but died in March 1945 in an air crash [318, p. 246]. Its work largely done by this point in the war, victory was only months away, as was the swift contraction of the DPR. Beneath the Air Commodore directing the DPR were two Deputy Directors, one in the military responsible for service contacts and the other a civilian for the press. C.P. Robertson, the AM’s pre-war Press Officer, performed the role of civilian Deputy Director, whilst Group Captain Lord John Willoughby de Broke, the former 11 Group Wing Commander Operations and Senior Controller of its operations room at Uxbridge [260, p. 25], assumed the Deputy Director’s role in 1941 [291, pp. 51–2]. He had previously been in post with Air Vice-Marshal Keith Park’s 11 Group since January, and played a crucial role in controlling fighter

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 17

squadrons [291, p. 44]. He was appointed to the WAAC, presumably replacing Peake who had sat on the committee during much of 1940 [291, p. 52]. Working to the Deputy Directors in addition to a Central News Editor were 11 PR branches with responsibility for AM press and publicity [598, p. 1]. These were PR1 for films; PR2 providing press liaison; PR3 producing pamphlets, feature articles, photography and factory liaison for visits by decorated pilots in order to recount their experiences to (awed) workers; PR4 with responsibility for broadcasts and broadcast-related books, such as Winged Words, the Book Society’s choice in 1941 [291, p. 60]; PR5 and AI6 with responsibility for security, AI6 being a specialised RAF intelligence cell (see pp. 20–1); PR7 developing counter propaganda; and PR8 staging public exhibitions and related publicity, the quality of its staff confirmed by the appointment of Spitfire pilots such as Flying Officer William Rolls (a Sergeant during the Battle), who, having shot down 17 aircraft, was given six months off operations to lead a publicity tour of Northern Ireland in early 1943. He recalled of the experience that the Wings for Victory exhibition included 26 stands of photographs, plus objects including bombs and parts of cockpits. He also gave talks to groups and attended luncheons to sell War Bonds [313, p. 204]. Such exhibitions might include model aircraft, handwritten captions and lettering, large-scale RAF ‘wings’ and perhaps 40 large photographs with individual captions and other supporting materials requiring weeks of effort to produce. PR9 provided facilities such as press and filming permits for RAF station visits; PR10 was the central news editor for WAAF issues, a later addition in June 1941, led by Squadron Leader Felicity Hanbury (later Peake), who had been in charge of the WAAF contingent at RAF Biggin Hill at the height of the Luftwaffe’s heavy attacks against it [291, ch. 5]; and from 1941, PR11 produced pamphlets such as the Battle of Britain, written by Saunders, who had joined the DPR after Dunkirk and managed to create his own small branch in the late summer of 1941 [93; 230, pp. 27–8]. So successful did PR11 become that the DPR was dubbed ‘RAF Writer Command’ [230, p. 28]. H.E. Bates recounts his own experience of being recruited into PR11, where Harald Peake, Saunders and Nerney, the AM’s librarian, interviewed him for a uniformed role of writing short stories about the RAF [121, pp. 179–82]. These later emerged as the Flying Officer X short stories. The full range of PR11’s propaganda output during the war was impressive and outstripped both the Army’s and the RN’s efforts [230, ch. 2]. There are notable omissions from the above Branch responsibilities. From the outbreak of hostilities the WAAC, with Peake participating from earlier 1940, addressed war art. The AM did not directly employ war artists but benefited from WAAC appointees working for the AM, such as Paul Nash. Non-broadcast books written by serving RAF personnel including pilots were scrutinised by AI6, but beyond that there was relatively little for the DPR to do other than introducing pilot-authors to potential publishers. DPR staff

18 The Good Fight

produced posters for RAF recruitment, presumably in PR3. Taken together, the range of expertise employed by the DPR by early 1941 was impressive and by then it employed experts in journalism, broadcasting, photography, films, exhibitions, posters and other PR specialities [291, p. 51]. ‘The Royal Advertising Force’, as it came to be known [339, p. 184], was indeed well served by this breadth of talent [291, p. 60]. In May the DPR’s staff was 19, but between then and January 1941 it had virtually doubled to 37, effectively 2.25 new staff per month. As noted below, its AI6 branch alone was employing 13 in later 1940. By January 1942, when Peake left, the total DPR staff stood at 64, and had more than quadrupled to 85 by January 1943 under Stansgate [256, p. 187, note 130]. This growth can in part be explained by the massive expansion of the RAF in many theatres of war and also by the need to provide 24-hour cover for the press and BBC. This inevitably required a shift system to ensure appropriate news output. The AHB’s narrative provides a useful context for understanding the importance attached to PR (or propaganda) by the government, including its assessment of ‘press and parliamentary comments and criticisms’ about its publicity [598]. In May 1942, in the same paper on ‘comments and criticisms’ it was confirmed that the total staff employed by the AM on all aspects of PR was 199, a figure that did not include overseas staff; this amounted to a salary cost of £97,574 per annum. It is not clear from the AHB narrative where the staff not working directly for the DPR were employed. ‘Bomber’ Harris was unimpressed with the inflated DPR noting of it in early 1943 that it was bloated with unnecessary staff that impeded each other’s efforts, employed many officers who knew nothing about the press, and as a result, the propaganda material released was useless [218, p. 156]. This view is at odds with the DPR’s successes during the earlier war years; oversized and cumbersome though it may have been, it could point to many propaganda successes and was the envy of the Army and RN’s equivalent organisations, neither of which enjoyed such success during 1941– 1942 [256, p. 62]. As an aside Paul Mackenzie notes the difficulties of projecting through feature films the strategic bombing offensive from 1943 onwards, the point at which ‘Bomber’ Harris seemed so disenchanted with the DPR [256, pp. 53–4]. To place Harris’s irritation in context, the total number of publicity and press staff employed across the government in May 1942 was 1086 personnel. Of these, confirmed the AHB narrative, ‘384 were men, 230 over military age, 110 over the reservation age of their grade, 13 medically unfit and 10 not yet registered. Of the remainder, 7 had been deferred, 1 released from the army and 13 were awaiting call up.’ By February 1944 a total of 4396 personnel were employed in all government departments concerned with publicity, including the MOI [598, p. 2]. Publicity and propaganda was big business. AM spending on press and poster advertising between September 1939 and May 1941 amounted to £190,500 [57, p. 6]. This represented an average amount of £9,525 per month. Spending on

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 19

behalf of the Army by the War Office was significantly less at £48,000, whilst the Admiralty’s was a very modest £11,500. In a table of 18 departments concerned with national savings, food, information, home security, agriculture, labour, war transport, health, mines or education, the AM ranked fourth; the next highest level of spending being on information at £313,100 and the lowest was on education at £700 [57, p. 6]. These figures do not include other forms of advertising and publicity expenditure such as films, books, pamphlets, exhibitions, art or factory visits. Although expensive, from the AM and RAF’s perspective the achievements of its DPR must have represented excellent value for money. It was a significant investment but there was considerable propaganda value in being able to claim the levels of enemy aircraft shot down by the RAF, and to project their efforts as warrior-heroes. Such a campaign could not be mounted and waged on a shoestring budget. Despite this sustained effort, not all were convinced. Ben Robertson noted a train conservation in December, in which a Canadian RAF Squadron Leader commented adversely upon Britain’s seeming inability to understand and use propaganda as a weapon, a subject about which he was writing a critique and intended to submit to his senior officer [78, pp. 178–9]. Such a document would have made interesting reading. Within the earlier AM Press Section prior to its enlargement as the DPR, several civilians had been appointed as ‘official Service Press Officers’, given RAF Squadron Leader ranks and sent out to France with the RAF as part of the BEF. These appointees included correspondents from the Daily Express, The Times, the Yorkshire Post, The Daily Telegraph and the editor from one of the Sunday papers [33, p. 254]. In addition to the staff employed in London, the DPR employed civilian press correspondents, often drafted into the RAFVR who worked at the various RAF Commands and Group HQs [291, p. 52]. The author Wing Commander A.B. Austin was attached to Air Chief Marshal Hugh Dowding’s staff at Fighter Command in such a capacity [13; 230, pp. 116–17]. The advantage of this scheme was that potential RAF stories could be spotted and developed much more quickly, with easier access to personnel in key positions. These mitigated security considerations in that uniformed PR staff would enjoy a high level of vetting, a clearance that could take time for civilians admitted to RAF stations. It also made it easier for such personnel to work in HQ and other units with reports and intelligence, not least because they were under military control [33, p. 254]. A final, important link was the RAF’s small Liaison Branch in the MOI. A Group Captain headed this and provided a bridge between the two organisations [291, p. 52], the RAF having retained control over much of its publicity activity.

RAF intelligence, censorship and propaganda The AM’s approach was broadly concerned with shaping the nature of the propaganda war both at home and abroad; undermining the enemy’s propaganda

20 The Good Fight

cohesion; protecting the integrity of Britain’s propagandist structures and effectiveness; and exploiting the propaganda situation generally [290, p. 1.2.13]. The RAF’s desired outcomes against the Luftwaffe were arguably to destroy their morale and military cohesiveness, reduce combat effectiveness, counter their propaganda output and prevail with one’s own propaganda campaign. Means of achieving these focused upon techniques that sought to influence perceptions, attitudes, emotions, motives, objectives, critical reasoning and behaviour. There was a close link between propaganda and intelligence in terms of both the raw information itself and the means of collecting and processing it. Philip Taylor notes that in the same manner that propaganda and censorship go hand in hand, so too do persuasion and intelligence, security requirements needing to be balanced against morale considerations [339, p. 156]. Information, often derived from intelligence, was the principal ingredient upon which propaganda was based, the processed information disseminated to various agencies that fashioned the material in the light of specific objectives after which it could be transmitted. Reliance upon faulty or inaccurate information could lead to serious errors of analysis, judgement, planning and decision-making. These might undermine confidence in targeted audiences causing more difficulties than had there been no propaganda campaign. AM propaganda to the home front had to be simple, credible, verifiable and consistent, or risk failure. There was a difference between giving detailed information of use to the enemy and the expression of broad opinions. Striking the right balance was a matter of judgement, the aim being to avoid censoring opinion and speculation where these were not a threat to security [119, p. 66]. Despite attempts to be even-handed, official obfuscation resulted in sometimes bland, misleading or otherwise uninformative material. Operational security was an important aspect of the AM and RAF’s overall propaganda strategies and had to work within its constraints. This extended right up to Churchill and the Cabinet. In essence, the RAF sought to deny the Luftwaffe information about its intentions, capabilities and limitations. Intelligence information of value to the enemy included knowledge of the RAF’s operational and support structures, the defensive command and control system, intelligence gathering, aircraft capabilities, new aircraft production and repair, aircraft losses, pilot casualties, pilot replacements, levels of damage sustained by attacked airfields, factories and other key sites, squadron and airfield locations, airfield defences, fuel and ammunition states, and general states of morale. The Luftwaffe’s failure to obtain reliable, vital intelligence was to prove significant leading to serious underestimations of RAF aircraft strengths, capabilities, resolve and effectiveness – and poor tactical responses. AI6, in tandem with PR5, focused upon security, the former directly concerned with the RAF’s operational issues. In this regard AI6 was the pivotal hinge between the RAF’s operational activity on the one hand, and what was

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 21

permissible to project about it in propaganda terms on the other. AI6 was used for rapid security clearance for articles, stories, broadcast items and similar materials [291, p. 52]. This afforded extensive control over the content and context of DPR materials, ‘quick’ clearance not a foil for sloppiness. Much depended on the quality of staff. It was reported to parliament in the ‘comments and criticisms’ narrative that AI6 had a staff of 13 in September, and cost the taxpayer £6,000 per annum – broadly the same amount as a Spitfire [598, p. 3]. Given the volume of press and other coverage this was a bargain, especially when the demands of round-the-clock shift working were considered and the insatiable demands for ‘hot’ news from the press concerning the latest air combat claims. Given the technical and operational nature of the required vetting judgements it was a role that would depend upon RAF IOs with up-to-date expertise. Peake’s Deputy Directors delegated control to an AI6 RAF Group Captain with day-to-day management control [291, p. 52]. A key aspect of AI6’s role was to receive the RAF’s daily aircraft claims and daily accounts of air fighting from Fighter Command’s HQ at Bentley Priory, with which they could be transformed into air communiqu´es, a process described in Chapter 4. The MOI’s film The Story of an Air Communiqu´e broadly confirms this sequence, but eschewed explaining the process of transforming raw claims into air communiqu´es, AI6’s final vetting and release to the AM News Service and thence the MOI for dissemination. The result of this policy was the daily release of several dull communiqu´es per day, yet which were bowdlerised to the extent of removing any useful information. This drove the press to distraction, vocal complaints printed in various newspapers and magazines, and reported in HI reports in respect of BBC bulletins. For example, in September AI6 was dubbed ‘the mystery censorship department of the AM’ by a national daily newspaper, reported in the AHB’s narrative under ‘comments and criticisms’ [598, p. 3]. The extent to which the AM exercised control over language in its communications was suggested in The Aeroplane on 12 July, where the word ‘aerobatic’ was to be made use of, where appropriate, in all publications following the issue of ‘A.M.O. No. 599’ [472, p. 31]. The Aeroplane again took exception to official policy: in its issue dated 30 August in an article entitled ‘Dicta Ex Machine’, it criticised not only the extensive padding by RAF Press Officers, but also their use of misleading and unhelpful terminology that taken together resulted in few stories having anything of use in them for press reports. Several examples were given of stories of heroism that simply ended up bereft of life and content. The article suggested that the AM was employing ‘muzzled talent’: ‘There are puzzling features about these bulletins. Among the Press Officers of the Royal Air Force are some firstrate writers’, and, having extolled their virtues, it began to reach the conclusion that ‘Somewhere in the Air Ministry must be a machine that tears the meat from every story that passes through it.’ It concluded, ‘Or can it be that the

22 The Good Fight

circumlocution, clich´es, interjections and padding are supplied by the machine to fill the gaps made by its blue pencils?’ [479, p. 218]. On 13 September The Aeroplane again criticised the AI6 for its poor projection of information about the RAF’s activities, bemoaning its policy of excessive meddling to achieve ‘Service suitability’ in communiqu´es [481, p. 297]. AHB’s narrative on ‘comments and criticisms’ identified several revealing examples under the heading ‘Too strong an emphasis on security’. The four complaints were (i) Pre-Censorship Vetting; (ii) Over-caution in respect of weather comments; (iii) Refusal to issue details concerning enemy activity over Great Britain; and (iv) Alleged lack of imagination on the part of A.I.6 [598, p. 1]. With the problem continuing after the Battle, under a section entitled ‘Security the bone of contention’ the narrative cited one prominent newspaper in 1941: ‘When a Service department does not want to disclose information it whispers the magic word ‘‘Security’’ and that is the end of it all’ [598, p. 3]. Heavy-handed censorship constrained RAF-focused reportage to a significant extent during the Phoney War, the British military widely criticised for excessive control over news information. M-O wrote exasperatedly in January that the press faced the same challenges of acquiring ‘hot news’ as did the public, useful information often coming from neutral sources or belated slow communications [40, p. 176]. Once combat began in earnest, restricted access to relevant and useful information about military action continued to provoke irritation. CBS correspondent Ed Murrow, reporting on the Norway campaign to America in April, argued that the poor quality of news information had damaged public trust [65, pp. 94–5]. For those with direct access to front-line RAF units, official control over their activities became steadily more suffocating. Charles Gardner, a BBC correspondent attached to the RAF’s AASF in France during the Phoney War, recounted increasing inflexibility over news output by the military leading to friction and a strike; the situation not improving by May, reporters were recalled to Britain [33, pp. 113–14]. The ‘new correspondent scheme’ leading to that strike meant that correspondents were not allowed to visit airfields except during quiet periods, and that only background material was permissible – interviewing pilots about operational activities was not allowed [33, p. 150]. Correspondents would be provided with censored information from the RAF that could then be worked up for broadcasts. Gardner was therefore not allowed to take his recording car to RAF airfields, or to record interviews with pilots unless permission was obtained from the RAF’s main HQ in France. Even following these restrictions recordings could not proceed until the script had been approved [33, p. 150]. This meant that Gardner was not able to provide RAF-approved material for broadcast by the BBC News on the same night as it had been written. In defence of these measures the RAF argued that there was no room or time to accommodate correspondents in front-line airfields, especially when these were

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 23

engaged in regular combat [33, p. 151]. The Blitzkrieg that opened up on 10 May put an end to protests from editors directly to the government. Just before the Battle began American reporter Ben Robertson met Duff Cooper, the Minister of Information who defended correspondents’ demands for useful news to the AM, War Office and Admiralty, all three of whom initially had little time for news reporting [78, p. 61]. Peake’s appointment as the head of the DPR brought a clear view about the balance between operational security and propaganda. He confirmed that modern warfare required an assessment of morale and the maintenance of prestige among neutral countries, security considerations not the only factor [339, p. 184]. Journalistically crippling RAF censorship control was revealed in a guidance note issued by the AM to reporters visiting an RAF station, based upon the requirements of the Air Defence Notices. In summary, it imposed stringent restrictions on all aspects of reportage, requiring that articles and scripts be submitted in triplicate for AM approval. This extended to photographs and sketches that also had to be captioned. Any film material similarly required AM approval, as did sound commentaries. Reporting about aircraft, weapons, buildings and their relative numbers, whilst permissible, was controlled: the key was to talk in broad terms, rather than giving details – this extended to personnel who were not to be named. Building locations, layouts and descriptions about camouflage were strictly prohibited, as were references to the name and location of the station and the units based there. Details about the dispersal of aircraft were to be withheld, as was any information regarding the station Operations Room [78, pp. 70–2]. Conveyed above was the concern to safeguard operational security and effectiveness, despite Peake’s acknowledgment of the difficulties created by having to work within such a system. It was that or nothing as far as the AM was concerned. Control over the release of news about the fighting was sometimes illogical. Wartime Daily Mirror Director Cecil Harmsworth King recounted on 4 September that a Mirror war correspondent had twice been to Dover to witness the air fighting and had reported the shooting down of 40 barrage balloons by Me109s in one day, the censor changing ‘forty’ to ‘two’ [245, pp. 72–3]. Reporter Vincent Sheean was frustrated by the restrictions placed upon reportage too: Very often since those days I met people who expressed doubt at the story of five or six English fighters engaging twenty or thirty Germans . . . to them all I can say is that I saw it happen not once but many times . . . the stupidity of the censors prevented our saying so at the time. [84, p. 156] Ingersoll confirmed this difficulty and noted during a meeting with American correspondents to discuss censorship, that ‘A damn fool in Dover refused to let [Ben] Robertson report a battle he saw in which two British planes were shot

24 The Good Fight

down and seven Germans’ [46, p. 140]. Writing later in the United States about the RAF’s air defences he noted that British censors were asked to approve the text for his book. In a passage clearly relating to RDF as one of the reasons the Luftwaffe failed in its air offensive against England, MOI censors wired back their concerns about ‘secret devices’ and the need for omission [46, p. 210]. As the war developed the relationship between operational command, censorship and propaganda continued as a thorny one. However, ‘Bomber’ Harris acknowledged the importance of securing press support confirming that it was important to have facts present accurately in order to minimise the impact of speculation occasioned by security considerations [218, p. 156]. Controlling film content Films too were a major mode of propaganda projection, but it took considerable time for them to be accepted by many senior RAF officers. In 1937 it was agreed that the expanding Press Section’s focus should widen to include more than only newsreel coverage of the RAF [256, p. 23]. As the war unfolded the MOI – employing senior, usually retired military officers as its advisers – was meant to be the lead body in managing all elements of filmic propaganda, but many internal difficulties dogged the organisation until the summer of 1941. This MOI confusion concerning its feature film propaganda policy [150, ch. 3] made it possible for the military to retain control and influence over relevant films, notionally for the purposes of operational security; the AM was thus able to ensure that any focusing upon the RAF was discussed and agreed beforehand [256, pp. 25–6]. Aside from the pre- and post-production censorship controls exercised by the MOI [339, p. 166], securing initial permission from the Directorate for access to RAF facilities such as airfields, aircraft and personnel progressively became a long-winded and tedious process despite efforts by some to improve the system. Mackenzie reproduces the sequence recorded in the official narrative written by the AHB on ‘Press and Publicity’ where a film company sought very brief footage of its actor – playing an RAF officer – stepping into an aircraft. In summary, the key stages were as follows. First, the film-maker made an initial approach to the AM or RAF, who replied that he had to ask the MOI for its formal approval, this confirmed in an MOI letter to PR1, the DPR’s film division. Next, the filmmaker was required to provide a script of the film to the AM, which was then checked by intelligence, security and policy staff to ensure compliance with official constraints. Alterations, deletions or substantial rewriting might result from scrutiny. Having secured official permission to proceed, the film-maker obtained specialist RAF equipment from a Maintenance Unit, but uniforms had to be hired from an approved costumier – usage additionally required the permission of the Provost Marshal, which had to be secured beforehand by PR1, the film division. Dates for filming at an agreed RAF station required

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 25

confirmation, PR1 approaching the relevant RAF Command for its agreement, who in turn secured the station’s blessing for filming to take place. Security permits for the station were then issued to the actor and film crew, but the latter needed to be registered on the Approved List beforehand, and if not, were thoroughly vetted. The security conditions relating to station permits were related above. The narrative illustrates an instance where on the day scheduled for filming the film crew arrived at the airfield to learn from the Command’s PR Officer that they could not now film because a combat operation was underway, no aircraft available. They had no choice but to return home. An alternative date was agreed, permits again issued and the film crew arrived at the station, but were this time dogged by poor weather and lighting. After some disagreements arrangements were again made for filming the next day, requiring an extension of permits to be negotiated with PR1. Overnight, the film crew were accommodated off-site. The filming was successfully completed; the narrative confirmed many months later that the film was completed but the airfield footage lasted for only about five seconds [256, pp. 35–6]. Prior to its commercial release the film had to be scrutinised by BBFC and MOI censors, as would any stock footage provided by the RAF. Given these frustrations it is not surprising that filmmakers fought shy of relying too heavily upon the AM, the sometimes-slight RAF content of Battle-related films discussed in Chapter 10 understandable.

‘Ministry of Morale’ Defining morale Good war morale, suggests Michael Balfour, was defined in wartime government documents as behaviour on the part of the public that confirmed a determination to win through, regardless of the impact personally or to a group of people [119, p. 75]. Robert Mackay echoes this view suggesting that Britain’s instinct for survival during 1940–1941 is key to understanding its citizens’ behaviour in the face of severe difficulty [255, p. 160]. The lack of resolution might have been decisive; France’s moral collapse in June owed much to a failure of leadership and catastrophic loss of self-confidence among its people, its army and air force demoralised [229, chs 3–4]. Morale is broadly defined as the state of the spirit of an individual or group, as shown in a willingness to perform assigned tasks where confidence, cheerfulness and discipline are significant elements. Balancing the relationship between wartime propaganda and home front morale was highly important and the focus of considerable if initially misguided effort. Rogerson put it succinctly, arguing for the primacy of building and reinforcing citizens’ morale in defensive propaganda [79, p. 176]. Many facets of the war impacted upon home front constituencies, everyone’s contribution deemed

26 The Good Fight

essential to the war effort no matter how mundane life seemed – all were combatants in the ‘People’s War’ [132; 145; 201; 210; 222]. At times this translated into a crude moral and strategic equivalence between the Forces and home front as portrayed in ‘Housewives at war’, ‘Our house was bombed’ and ‘Front line girl’ [6, ch. vii; 60, chs ix, xii]. In truth, civilian morale had not been tested to any serious extent during the ‘Bore – or Phoney – War’, and the MOI, lacking insights into or experiences of likely civil responses to severe challenges, were unclear about leadership and strategies for the sustenance of morale. Given the initial difficulties external criticism of MOI policy was premature, but would become sharply relevant as Norway and France unfolded as crises only months later and weaknesses in the often-amateur MOI output became clearer [65, pp. 94–5]. In early 1940 the British government were rightly criticised for heavy-handedness and ineptitude, the ‘Mystery of Information’ as capable of denying information to the British as it was to their enemies [134, p. 107]. Unsurprisingly, by June, and Dunkirk, Churchill’s Cabinet were deeply concerned about the state of morale, but regular reports were reassuring [261, pp. 68–9]. Perhaps they should have consulted Stephen Spender, who believed that morale came from within, the British resisting the enemy both when awake and when asleep [89, p. 38]. A.J.P. Taylor reflected this view, suggesting that by August the British were both exultant and clear that they were in the front line [337, p. 69]; Overy affirms a similar view, the British victory during the summer vanquishing uncertainty and doubt, to be replaced by a more united and determined people [284, pp. 132–3]. Novelist Rebecca West, reflecting in 1941 on the rapid turn of events during the few weeks since 10 May, wrote of her growing resolve: ‘Now we in England stood alone. . . . But the experience was not so disagreeable as might be supposed’ [100, p. 521]. Such views made it hard to objectively identify the vital aspects of morale in the period after Dunkirk. In common with the government, M-O’s early 1940 narrative on morale was hazy about its pivotal relationship to propaganda and information [40, pp. 413–25]. An M-O report concerning the impact of bombing suggested that morale was about a determination to not only continue, but also sustain hard and persistent work in an energised frame of mind [254, p. 2]. McLaine recounts various authorities’ views about it, the relationship between attitude and behaviour deemed crucial, active participation in work furthering war aims seen as an important element of high morale [265, p. 8]. A lack of certainty about what constituted ‘good or bad morale’ was inevitable at most levels, as was the devising of appropriate propaganda responses. Aviation expert Colin Grey, writing in 1940, was interested, for example, in the ‘moral’ impact of air power, where he rather vaguely offered that the ‘psychological moment’ ‘is a force-moment round a given point’ [39, p. 24]. Citing the example of air attacks against civilians as an instance where ‘the psychological moment’

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 27

might be rapidly altered, he anticipated the London Blitz, but offered little other explanation as to how this might be translated into affirmative action. Rogerson was persuaded by the importance of choosing the most opportune time, citing Lord Northcliffe’s propaganda offensive during the Great War, during which he was able to judge and act decisively at the ‘psychological moment’ [79, pp. 58–9]. These, at the very least, confirmed the essential link between morale, timing and appropriate propaganda messages for wartime practitioners. ‘The Ministry of Aggravation’ The MOI occupied a difficult position in mid-1940, not least because the AM’s DPR exercised control over a considerable amount of the RAF’s propaganda output, including the crucial aircraft claims reports. The roots of this problem lay in the MOI’s earliest days and its failure to come to grips with the media demands of propaganda and morale quickly and effectively enough. At the outbreak of war in September 1939 the MOI was responsible for releasing official news, press, film and BBC censorship, maintaining morale, conducting publicity campaigns for other government departments and, on top of all that, projecting propaganda to enemy, neutral, allied and Empire countries [265, p. 3]. This was an enormous range of responsibilities, the MOI simply not equipped to meet the demands. Between October 1939 and April 1940 the MOI lost control over news and censorship, regaining it before the Battle commenced; equally inauspiciously, it lost ‘propaganda to the enemy’, at which point the war had barely begun [265, p. 3]. The MOI’s late start, only when the war began, exacerbated the problems and it limped into a momentous year for Britain, in stark contrast to the AM’s DPR. In May, the Conservative Alfred Duff Cooper had accepted the position of ‘Minister of Morale’; his resignation from Chamberlain’s government during the Munich crisis had earlier not only pitched him from high office, but also gained him credit with Churchill as a man of principle [151, ch. 17]. However, Duff Cooper lasted in that post only until June 1941, thereafter replaced by Brendan Bracken, a Minister who was much better suited to the role (not least because of his strong relationship with Churchill and the press) and under whose control the MOI both expanded and performed much more effectively. Ironically, Duff Cooper had resigned after failing to secure greater powers for the MOI [265, p. 7]. But this was some way off in the future, and recognising the scale of the challenge faced by Duff Cooper, Churchill on 17 May had asked Harold Nicolson to join the government and assist the new Minister as Parliamentary Secretary to the MOI [315, p. 242]. With Duff Cooper in post, a series of policy changes, amalgamations, restructurings and new appointments sought to remedy the difficulties but it took time for these to bed down. In the face of such challenges both Duff Cooper and Nicolson were justified in feeling aggrieved at the lack of support provided by Churchill in their dealings with

28 The Good Fight

the FO and military [315, p. 244]. This limited their power in taking control of key aspects of the propaganda war at a time when there was much to exploit, some of the action occurring over their heads. Curiously, Nicolson had seen the dogfights at first hand with many air battles fought over Sissinghurst, and also the subject of his considered diary entries [315, p. 246; 277, pp. 255–6]. Despite this Nicolson did not appear to see the propaganda potential they offered. John Charmley confirms that the heroism of the Few offered little for the MOI, their success self-evident [151, p. 147]. Part of the difficulty faced by the MOI (but evidently not the AM) was that many officials were unwilling to engage in propaganda, even if they knew what it was. M-O in early 1940 observed that propaganda as an art was ill thought of and resisted by some ministers, yet it was simply a means of offering leadership to the masses [40, pp. 413–14]. James Chapman is clear that the MOI, charged with developing propaganda strategy, struggled with this distasteful ‘unBritish’ practice [150, p. 42]. These sensitivities did not overly concern Nicolson, who may have wished himself a player in the AM’s more dynamic environment. A week or so before Adler Tag on 3 August, Nicolson, who had been in post for almost three months, recorded in his diary the difficulties faced by the MOI in that in order to achieve an effective propaganda output, it needed ignorant and dishonest individuals willing to distort and deceive the public. He lamented the preponderance of decent and educated people in the MOI, none of whom were by nature ‘crooks’, as employed by the Nazis [315, pp. 243–4]. Without suggesting that the AM’s propagandists were ‘crooks’, given the aircraft claims dispute being played out that was soon to reach its head in midAugust, Nicolson’s view suggests a certain detachment from how he might have encouraged MOI engagement with Battle propaganda. Aside from acting as a clearinghouse and interface between the media and the AM, all that remained was the censorship of material not directly dealt with by the DPR (but which frequently had been scrutinised by AI6 as raw material). As noted above in respect of the AM and AI6, censorship was a major bone of contention: from the war’s outset the MOI came in for severe criticism, attacks that both undermined its confidence as an organisation and wrong-footed it in relations with the media. Even before the war Rogerson had expected friction because of the Defence of the Realm Act, which allowed the government to subject the press to rigid censorship concerning military matters [79, p. 93]. Working within the AM and MOI-imposed straitjacket, it remained essential for Britain to project news and propaganda about the RAF’s successes, determination and capability, yet without revealing vital tactical and strategic information. Grey believed in 1940 that press censorship was vital and that written with the best of intentions, it might even so provide important information to the enemy [39, p. 102]. Churchill relied heavily upon being able to project such information as part of his oratory; it was not in his interest to muzzle the

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 29

media, or seek to inhibit its reportage, though he did at times attempt it. Even so, suggested MacKenzie, who anticipated the negative impact upon the press, it was undesirable to see the news suffering for excessive censorship, a net result being that the public would simply cease to trust what they read [54, p. 291]. This proved to be the case; defeats were massaged, and Churchill was not above seeking to influence the press [245, pp. 80–4, 93–107]. Working relations between the press and censor were not entirely negative. Taylor is clear about the ‘partnership’ between censors and the press, for that is what it became, in that censors – who were also propagandists – required the media in order to get messages out effectively [339, p. 171]. Indeed, they became natural allies to such an extent that the MOI, by 1941, developed a system whereby official news and views were disseminated through the media, Fleet Street, Wardour Street and Broadcasting House being undeclared agents for distributing official propaganda [339, p. 171]. It is arguable that this arrangement was already in play during latter 1940. In any event, censorship was the means of ensuring control over such information, based upon the implementation of a voluntary system. Arthur Marwick further confirms this suggesting that censorship acted indirectly, the media depending upon the military and government for their information in the first place [261, p. 105]. However, the arrangement was not quite as relaxed as suggested. News material passed to the press and the BBC was censored at source, with a check of material from the news agencies – whence it originated – by official censors based at the PA in London to ensure that nothing of significance was being allowed to pass through [339, p. 161]. Official information would be provided to media organisations such as the BBC, newsreels, newspapers, other publications and film-makers, via printed material, press conferences, library film stock, photographs or interviews. Where agencies collected and generated the information at first hand for dissemination to others, this was scrutinised, especially access to sensitive military sites. Ingersoll, based in London during the summer of 1940, provided a useful overview of ‘The Censorship’ and his experiences of working as an American reporter within its constraints [46, pp. 137–42]: ‘The censorship is (1) a policy and (2) a large body of partially trained men to administer it . . . opening letters, reading cables before they’re sent, blue-pencilling copy in newspaper offices . . . the present policy of the British government is that the more truth it can let out the better’ [46, pp. 138–9]. Ingersoll’s experience was that American colleagues defended the British system of censorship despite frequent irritation with it and often finding that ‘any censor in doubt will prefer to censor too much rather than too little – [this] has the effect of dampening and flattening out copy – and undoubtedly conceals more than it means to’ [46, pp. 140–1]. He provided an insight into the workings of the censors before making broadcasts to the American public. Describing a visit to a broadcasting studio in the BBC

30 The Good Fight

building, he noted of CBS correspondent Ed Murrow that he would either bring the script or write it at the time, after which the censor read it. In a disagreement the MOI might be contacted to arbitrate between the two [46, pp. 78–9]. Highly important to British propaganda, the US media’s influence was not lost on Churchill and his government, who were not above interfering with foreign press reports and dispatches for political expediency. A concern raised in The Times on 8 October in ‘Mutilation of dispatches – Press protest to Mr. Duff Cooper’ confirmed anxieties [555, p. 2, col. e]. Despite frustrations expressed by foreign correspondents the situation regarding censorship remained aggravating. Murrow broadcast on 29 November that US correspondents based in London had met the Minister of Information to complain about the erratic and unpredictable censorship system that had not changed in over a year [65, p. 230]. In essence, the factual content of much projected news was already controlled; all that remained to be monitored being the expression of views and opinions. Marwick believes this was not an issue as newspapers, journalists, photographers and film-makers were deeply patriotic in their outlook [261, p. 105], a view shared by Taylor, who argues that both Fleet Street and the MOI were clear that together they were vital in shaping morale [339, p. 162]. Although based upon a voluntary system of censorship, the risks of provoking the censors were serious and might result in the agency being suppressed, reporters or camera crews restricted in movement, access or core activity, and deported or prosecuted under wartime Defence Regulations emergency powers. In its defence, the censorship system controlling the various media organisations worked well from the government’s perspective. The media were careful not to provoke the government and the Press and Censorship Division brought only four prosecutions [339, p. 162]. Whether British citizens felt accurately informed about the news was another matter, but it is undeniable that their morale held up during the Battle. Newsreels – discussed in Chapter 7 – were an important propaganda vehicle, and subjected to pre-censorship as described for the BBC and the press, and a final, pre-release assessment [339, p. 161]. This process entailed agreeing on the topics to be covered, supervised access to material, people and sites, vetting of the footage, submission of commentaries in advance, and a final ‘scrutiny viewing’ of the completed reel, at which point changes might be demanded [306, pp. 156–7]. In the case of military coverage, newsreel companies relied upon stock footage from the military, or permission to film at military bases and aircraft. This in itself was often fraught with difficulties (see pp. 24–5). Feature-film-makers were also subjected to various censorship controls, either direct or indirect, the results sometimes evident in films about the Few. Taylor describes the scrutiny process for bringing a feature film to fruition. Scripts had to be first submitted to the BBFC for approval before work began on production, consent confirming that the government agreed with the film’s content [339,

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 31

p. 179]. As with paper, film stock – a ‘strategic war material’ – was controlled by the Board of Trade, and it too required a film scenario to be provided, and approved by the MOI. The MOI’s Film Division [150, chs 1–3] exercised additional control through its film permit function. Once completed, in order to publicly screen the film a BBFC ‘certificate of exhibition’ was required. Although the BBFC was separate from the MOI but operated through it, it was increasingly sidelined as the MOI’s powers and influence expanded. In several key areas, without the MOI’s support there was very little prospect of making a film, propaganda scenarios inevitably attracting positive responses. An article in The Times on 2 September highlighted concerns about such extensive powers in ‘Propaganda by film – M.O.I. criticised – No clear conception of policy’ that also noted the importance of the newsreels [527, p. 9, col. f]. Taylor confirms that many film-makers preferred to deal directly with the MOI rather than the BBFC, the latter irrelevant in the cases of films that required security assessments [339, p. 166]. As discussed before (see pp. 24–50), where film-makers sought direct RAF engagement, a separate scrutiny process was undertaken by the AM, the former unwilling to yield overall control over RAF-related films to the MOI. All in all, it could be a tortuous process.

Gauging the impact of home propaganda A key concern for the MOI was assessing the reach of home front propaganda (and the success of its censorship policies), where it is undeniable that the accurate assessment of its impact, or reach, was challenging [174, p. 87]. Two means of achieving this within Britain’s home front were the MOI’s HI and M-O interviews of the public [40; 104; 146; 219]. These gave insights into responses to the BBC’s coverage, newsreels, films, newspapers, air raids, government effectiveness, and the war generally. States of morale were the clearest link between propaganda and its reach, broad measurement relatively straightforward in the event of a victory, or defeat, but less so in the monotony of daily life. McLaine features a ‘morale chart’ that recorded public reactions to events in the news from March 1941 to December 1944. Both positive and negative events were recorded and the corresponding responses were represented as percentages on a graph based upon HI surveys [265, i.f.c.]. Many of the outcomes were selfevident, but there is no denying that the clear relationship was occasioned by specific events and the opinions as to ‘satisfaction with the government’ expressed as peaks and troughs in a corresponding chart. Propaganda undoubtedly persuaded individuals about the merits of particular situations; beyond that responses were less easy to gauge as many factors might influence a state of morale. For example, individuals might confirm that a film, book, news item or broadcast had raised their spirits, but it was more difficult to gauge longer-term impact.

32 The Good Fight

Assessing levels of morale was a complex, often-subjective activity, yet one in which the MOI invested much energy. Virtually daily, the MOI’s HI – established in January – produced secret reports on states of morale [283, p. 10]. These provided a crude insight into the public’s reaction to events, data gathering concerned to achieve ‘an unbiased and objective picture of the state of British public opinion’ [283, p. 10]. Having compiled daily and later weekly regional accounts, these were then forwarded to Senate House in London, where summaries were collated and an introductory section provided a pr´ecis of contents [105, p. 3]. Various means were used to assess morale, the results conveyed in the MOI’s HI reports that began initially as daily assessments, and from 30 September were altered to reflect weekly developments in more detail [105, p. 4]. Britain was divided into 13 regions covering England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, with RIOs based in towns and cities to ensure effective coverage. Sources were numerous in any region, the RIO in contact with perhaps 200–400 people in positions that enabled them to gauge and report upon public opinion. In addition to the feedback from RIOs in contact with many professionals and businesses, intelligence was derived from other sources, as indicated to the rear of weekly intelligence reports from September. Examples include press summaries, the MOI, postal censorship, Chief Constables, Wartime Social Survey, the BBC, Citizens’ Advice Bureaux, W.H. Smith and Granada Cinema managers [601 (28.10.1940–4.11.1940)]. M-O provided reports to HI that again suffered from many of the difficulties to be found in the official reports. It was created in the late 1930s with a view to ‘developing a science of ourselves’, principally through observing the British working class [122, p. 3]. Reports were based upon responses from observers, who noted down overheard conversations about a wide range of topics, or who maintained personal diaries that were sent in either regularly or sporadically. M-O’s methodology was criticised as lacking a formal scientific basis by many in the field, and the results have to be seen in that context [105, p. 3]. Many of their observers were members of the well-educated middle class, inevitably creating artificial barriers. Commissioned by the MOI to observe the impact of sustained air raids during the winter of 1940–1941, the M-O results provided much material for the weekly HI reports [105, p. 4; 122]. Because of the sources used and the difficulty of securing genuinely objective data, the content of reports could only be relied upon for a broad indication of morale. The value of reports where they attested to ‘very high morale’, ‘high morale’, ‘excellent morale’ and ‘very good morale’ on a daily basis for weeks on end has to be questioned. Churchill, for one, was not persuaded and wrote to Minister of Information Brendan Bracken in April 1942 that a man based in London could have arrived at the same views simply by reading the London press [105, p. 8]. There was perhaps more in this view than Churchill realised, confirming as he did that the press were central to the sustenance of morale,

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 33

efforts to persuade and influence them demonstrably fully justified. As the MOI’s Director-General, Cyril Radcliffe’s draft reply to Bracken arguing for the value of the weekly reports was revealing; Bracken simply used it almost verbatim in his reply to Churchill. Crucially, their value was summed up as being mostly useful when read regularly as general pointers to trends, with their limitations understood and factored into overall assessments [265, p. 259]. Despite this, as an insight into reactions to British propaganda during the Battle, they remain valuable.

Winston Churchill If the summer and autumn of 1940 was Britain’s ‘finest hour’, the same is true of Churchill himself, who scaled extraordinary heights through his oratory, leadership and determination as the crisis unfolded. The Prime Minister was arguably the RAF’s single most important propagandist during the Battle, yet this could not have been easily predicted during the 1930s. Churchill could claim a protracted apprenticeship with the military in war making, governance and speech making, beginning with his role as the Air and War Secretary from January 1919, during which he established an important connection with Britain’s nascent RAF, and particularly with Marshal of the RAF, Viscount ‘Boom’ Trenchard. Prior to this Churchill had been interested in air power for the best part of a decade. Throughout his career he had also been fascinated by and deeply committed to public speaking, a skill that reached its apotheosis during 1940. David Cannadine assesses his development, in some respects a compensation for his weaknesses in other areas, and throughout his subsequent tenure as Prime Minister [147, pp. 85–113]. Churchill’s biographer, Martin Gilbert, confirms that realism and vision were the two complementary aspects of his oratory [206, p. 37]. His speeches had three aims: first, to report to Parliament about the progress of the war; second, to ‘rally and reassure’ the British people; and third, to persuade and convince the wider world that Britain would prevail [147, pp. 105–6]. A fourth aim was clearly that of propaganda, Churchill fancying himself an able propagandist [315, p. 244]. During his ‘wilderness years’ from 1929 to 1939, Churchill made several speeches including his allegory about ‘England’ and its defence, delivered to the Royal Society of St George, and broadcast by a nervous BBC (24 April 1933) [632]. Similarly, a constituency speech addressed the same theme (12 August 1933) [207, p. 10], as did ‘We lie within a few minutes’ striking distance’, a BBC broadcast from London warning of the threat from air attack, despite the difficulties of estimating Luftwaffe numbers (16 November 1934) [632]. Later, Churchill – a lone voice (yet which was to give him considerable moral authority during 1940 as Britain’s crisis deepened) – made several significant speeches to the Commons about the now looming danger, all with clear implications

34 The Good Fight

for the defence of Britain’s airspace: ‘Hitler’s threat to peace’ (14 March 1938) [287, p. 383], ‘The choice for Europe’ (9 May 1938) [20, pp. 12–22] and ‘Air defences of Britain’ (25 May 1938) [20, pp. 23–4]. It was as a result of such speeches that Churchill enjoyed considerable moral authority as events developed, being uniquely well placed to avoid the stain of appeasement that had tainted so many others. As Prime Minister, Churchill’s role from 10 May was fundamental in galvanising Britain’s fight for survival [249, ch. 2]. He took many military decisions, an aspect easily overlooked by those who view his speeches after Dunkirk as his key contribution [307, p. 181]. Churchill’s lengthy years of engagement with many aspects of the military served him well throughout the crisis, and he was very familiar with the relationship between politics and senior military leadership, and their interdependency. In 1940 senior RAF officers understood not only this, but also Churchill’s need for military successes. General Rupert Smith defines the dynamic succinctly: ‘Generalship is about riding the line between military and political objectives. You cannot possibly discharge your duty to your political masters if you don’t understand what they are about’ [520, p. 5]. Churchill’s resolve and determination spread rapidly: his ‘genius in 1940 was to give the nation answers that turned it into a vast closed network, a tribe of resistance fighters’ [521, p. 7]. West confirms the impact of such leadership: ‘Now we were led by Winston Churchill . . . It was good to take up one’s courage again, which had been laid aside so long, and feel how comfortably it fitted into the hand’ [100, p. 522]. Whilst the British public were broadly behind him as the new Prime Minister, the voices of dissent and defeatism in both the Tory party and the Parliament remained in his early efforts to sustain the fragile, cross-party coalition [206, pp. 20–7; 209, pp. 591–600; 249, pp. 61–87; 339, pp. 58–62]. Churchill, following several War Cabinet meetings, had rejected attempts to reach a ‘peace’ settlement having finally managed to secure support for his defiant stance by winning over individuals such as Lord Halifax [307, p. 169; 311, pp. 279–90]. Whilst Hitler’s stated aim was to preserve the British Empire as a stabilising influence [258, p. 368; 242, pp. 77–8], there is no doubt that Britain’s economic and military status would have been severely curtailed in a bloodless defeat. Hitler evolved his strategy piecemeal in the light of new developments [340, p. 211]. In his self-appointed role as the Minister of Defence from 10 May, Churchill was able to lead Britain’s war effort and take key decisions concerning defence policy [209, p. 322]. His place at the centre, or hub, of the intelligence web provided a crucial opportunity to propagandise the RAF’s achievements based upon hard, if manipulated, facts. Whilst the RAF did the actual fighting, Churchill projected their achievements to the international mass media through his oratory [284, pp. 130–1; 307, pp. 184–8]. Rich praise for the RAF from Churchill in broadcasts, speeches and published accounts had three valuable outcomes: first,

A Tangle of Vapour Trails 35

to speak directly to the pilots, aircrews and support staff; second, as valuable propaganda directed at the home front, Empire, America and the enemy; and third, to confirm the close link between Churchill as the war leader and the RAF as his air arm. As the crisis developed, Churchill delivered ‘Be ye men of valour’, broadcast on the BBC (19 May 1940), in which he spoke of the RAF’s fighter pilots’ successes over France, claiming odds of three or four Luftwaffe aircraft to each of the RAF’s losses [20, pp. 209–12]. Once it was evident that France was lost, his ‘Dunkirk’ speech to the Commons talked of deliverance [20, pp. 215–23]. Following bitter complaints from the Army, Churchill in making special mention of the RAF’s fighters’ role in thwarting German bomber attacks on BEF troops trapped on the beaches also spoke of a victory inside the Dunkirk deliverance, notably by Fighter Command (4 June 1940) [20, p. 219]. In the Commons, his ‘Finest Hour’ speech positively oozed defiance and resolve, Churchill’s rhetoric galvanising a nation’s determination to fight on (18 June 1940) [20, pp. 225–34]. Here, he predicted that ‘the battle of Britain is about to begin’ [20, p. 234]. And expecting imminent aerial assault, anticipated in his later epigraph to the Few, two months later, he said, ‘I look forward confidently to the exploits of our fighter pilots – these splendid men, this brilliant youth – who will have the glory of saving their native land, their island home, and all they love, from the most deadly of all attacks’ [20, p. 231].

Conclusions Remarkably, as Britain found itself alone in June 1940, its ‘propagandists’ – much though they may have despised the term – appeared not to fully appreciate the primacy of propaganda as the ‘fourth arm’ of war making. Despite these initial challenges, Churchill, the AM and the MOI would prove to be important conduits for the propagandising of the Few as the Battle progressed. The AM’s DPR had a clear mandate for its censorship role and the release of communiqu´es, the importance of which is discussed in Chapter 4. The MOI had a faltering start but nevertheless exerted an influence on the broad propaganda picture projected through the press, cinema and the BBC, in addition to the material broadcast internationally. Churchill, despite being the British Prime Minister, was to stand head and shoulders above all propagandists in his evocation of the Few’s prowess, managing to express with powerful clarity the feelings of perhaps millions of citizens as events unfolded, and the fighter pilots became the focus of legend.

2 Squadrons Up

RAF Fighter Command Interwar crises Britain’s RFC had learned much from the challenges of effective air defence during the First World War in seeking to thwart bombing raids by Zeppelins and Gotha bombers. Although the damage was often not significant, such raids had an impact upon post-war thinking about strategic bombing, air power and defence. Following the end of the First World War in 1918 the RAF’s strength was significantly and rapidly reduced, in terms both of manpower and aircraft. A desperate political battle was fought allowing the RAF to retain its independence from the British Army and the RN as a separate service, but it was a close run contest [338, pp. 30–3]. This was achieved through the ‘Trenchard Memorandum’ presented to the Commons by Churchill on 11 December 1919 that proved crucial to the RAF’s development, and laid the foundations for later success in 1940 [130, pp. 350–3]. But this was some two decades away. Although criticised for his lacklustre engagement with the issues, Churchill’s tenure in office from January 1919 to early 1921 was essential in providing the breathing space for the RAF, and in allowing Marshal of the RAF, Viscount ‘Boom’ Trenchard to later limit savage cuts that reached their apotheosis between 1921 and 1923 [130, chs 12–16]. Arguments that the RAF was required to police colonial outposts went some way in preserving an independent and cost-effective air force. Had this not been achieved, the Dowding system of air defence, discussed below, would have been most unlikely under such circumstances, the Army’s doctrinal approach favouring close air support. With an RAF subsumed into a supporting role to the Army, it is plausible that the fighter assets – such as they may have been – would have been squandered in France during May and June, futilely supporting the British retreat. Under these conditions Andrew Boyle was therefore convinced that had Trenchard not been able to develop the RAF as he did, Britain could not have resisted the Luftwaffe [130, p. 723]. 36

Squadrons Up 37

During the 1920s recent memories of the massive loss of life in France and Belgium between 1914 and 1918 militated against a large military, where both politically and publicly there was little appetite for expensive rearmament. Having survived as an independent service the RAF found itself obliged to compete for scarce funding with its politically better-placed and more senior partners, the RN and Army. This did not prevent attempts to develop the RAF’s effectiveness and operational systems against the backdrop of wider international military doctrinal developments. The theory of air power as a formal doctrine had been gaining ground both during and since the ending of the First World War. Several military exponents including Giulio Douhet [28], Basil Liddell Hart and Billy Mitchell were responsible for renewed and attentive interest in both the threats and opportunities posed by aircraft, especially given improving performances. The primacy of the bomber as an offensive weapon was central to such thinking, and was clearly going to be significant in any future major conflicts [86; 141, ch. 5; 338, ch. 2].

Rearmament and RAF expansion Douhetism, crossing the Channel in anticipation of the Luftwaffe struck home, British politicians not blind to the threat. Speaking in a Commons’ debate on 10 November 1932, Conservative politician Stanley Baldwin prophesised: ‘I think it is well for the man in the street to realise that there is no power on earth that can prevent him from being bombed. Whatever people may tell him, the bomber will always get through’ [141, p. 187]. Huge numbers of civilian casualties and extensive devastation from massed air attacks in a new war were widely anticipated during this period, a factor in the development of air defences. An early war M-O book was certain that the aeroplane represented a major new factor in war making, its capability as yet not fully revealed [40, p. 4]. A Douetian preoccupation with the bomber as a deterrent was thus manifested in RAF propaganda during the 1930s, to a far greater extent than projections of its fighter defence capability. In many respects the focus upon the Few represented a significant shift of RAF propaganda policy, away from the bomber. Per Ardua, in setting the scene for concerns about the bomber, provided an official wartime assessment of British air power from 1911, and leading up to the Battle [91]. In response to Chancellor Adolf Hitler’s rise to power in 1933 and clear signs that Nazi Germany was rearming, the British initiated a series of expansion schemes to provide the RAF with both fighters and bombers. Between July 1934 and October 1939, just after war had started, a number of schemes ranged from Scheme A, with a demand for 420 fighters, through to Scheme M, with plans for 800 fighters and 1360 bombers [310, ch. 2]. Whilst the requirement for bombers was fairly constant, the numbers of fighters deemed necessary for

38 The Good Fight

defence almost doubled in five years, representing an important step-change in views about how best to protect British air space. With commendable prescience Sir Thomas Inskip initiated this vital change in December 1937, shifting the emphasis away from the primacy of the bomber so entrenched in the Air Staff Doctrine, that the best means of defence was attack [338, p. 45]. Henceforth, the cheaper to produce fighter was to take priority, but as Malcolm Smith suggests, the Air Staff, who had for so long argued for the primacy of the bomber, resisted the priority given to fighters [328, p. 29]. This refutes the myth that the British government was amateurish and anti-technological in its attitude towards modern aircraft technology. David Edgerton identifies this contradiction, J.B. Priestley’s somewhat anti-technocratic projection of a Britain at odds with superlative, advanced weapons such as the Spitfire [185, p. 274]. Curiously, Priestley despised perceptions of Britain that seemed to favour the idea that Hurricanes and Spitfires were traditionally built according almost to the lights of the Arts and Crafts movement by craftsmen in the deep English countryside [211, p. 111]. That aside, Edgerton elaborates on the RAF’s broad embrace of modern aircraft technology in his earlier England and the Aeroplane, pre-war developments proving crucial to the availability of fighters and bombers as the war unfolded [184, chs 3–4]. C. Sinnott, who documents RAF aircraft developments between 1923 and 1939, strongly confirms this view [325]. The political context of the interwar development of the RAF’s air power capability was addressed at length in Grey’s history of the AM, published in 1940 [39, Part 3]. This was not achieved without some political difficulty: ‘Bomber’ Harris had noticed that the AM had an inferiority complex and was unduly conscious of its lack of a Service tradition [218, p. 57]. During the later 1930s a number of new fighter and bomber airfields were built, these expansion period sites being provided with buildings of striking architectural merit such as officers’ and Sergeants’ Messes, station HQ and barracks. In addition to aircraft and airfields, there was a need for additional manpower, pilots and resources. The ‘Auxiliary Air Force and Reserve Air Force Act’ received assent in July 1924, and laid the foundations for a vital contribution by ‘part-time’ or so-called ‘weekend’ fighter pilots [318, p. 290]. Initially, the number of auxiliary and reserve squadrons formed was in single figures, but the numbers rose rapidly as the RAF expanded. The wider public were aware of these developments, pre-war government propaganda seeking partly to reassure Britain that action was being taken, whilst working – desperately – towards appeasing Hitler. Major events such as the air pageants at Hendon provided a platform for projecting RAF air power, though by the mid-1930s Luftwaffe generals would be unimpressed by its biplane fighters and bombers. It is arguable that the preponderance of lumbering bombers and Gladiator fighters seriously misled the visiting Nazi dignitaries, in part explaining initial over-confidence on the part of the Luftwaffe.

Squadrons Up 39

Appeasement in context Combined, these various initiatives and schemes were just sufficient so that by 1939 when war began, the RAF’s front-line strength had been built up to a more substantial degree. This leads historians to suggest that the humiliating nature of Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain’s dash to Munich on 15 September 1938 to agree a deal with Hitler over Czechoslovakia, bought an extra year of peace. It is contended that Britain was thus able to continue its rearmament programme. Its corollary is that Chamberlain’s government should have done more to meet the threat from Nazi Germany by rearming during the mid-1930s; a view held by Churchill who believed that Britain and France could have gone to war in 1938 against a militarily weaker Germany during the proffered ‘breathing space’ [272, pp. 255–78; 307, p. 109; 328, pp. 29–31]. The novelist Rebecca West, writing during the Blitz, reflected bitterly on Britain’s unpreparedness for war in 1939, appeasement ‘a pretence that this was not so, that Munich was not negative but positive, that Neville Chamberlain signed the treaty because he knew his country to be unprepared for war and therefore wanted to gain time for rearmament . . . but it is a lie’ [100, p. 514]. Harold Balfour, Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Air, rejected this view arguing that war in 1938 might have led to a British defeat [118, p. 110]. Field Marshal Alanbrooke saw it purely in terms of numbers, the RAF in 1938 only able to field five Hurricane squadrons, and biplane fighters, without the help of RDF, against 1500 modern Luftwaffe bombers [139*, p. 203]. In any event, two years after the Munich agreement the RAF would demonstrate to Hitler and the Luftwaffe that they remained a powerful and potent opposition, far from beaten. It cannot therefore be denied that a great deal of effort had been made in the intervening period to build up Fighter Command, Spitfires and Hurricanes provided to squadrons well before Churchill became Premier from 10 May. If Chamberlain stands accused in terms of the Army’s lack of tanks and weaponry, he should at least be credited with ensuring that the RAF was able to defend Britain’s airspace by mid-1940. It is perhaps too simplistic to damn Chamberlain’s reputation with the stain of appeasement, whilst at the same time glorifying Churchill because of his role during the Battle. The truth lies somewhere in between, but Chamberlain – who died of cancer on 9 November only a week or so after the Battle had officially ended – was unable to dominate the history of his time in office as Churchill later did through his five volumes on the Second World War [e.g. 152].

Fighter Command’s organisation for defence By 1940 the RAF was organised into various commands, Fighter Command being most directly involved, and to a lesser extent Bomber Command and Coastal Command. Training and logistics though important was at

40 The Good Fight

some remove from front-line activity. The RAF’s Commands were divided into Groups, with given areas of responsibility in terms of role, location, HQ and airfields. Groups were then sub-divided into a series of squadrons, led by a Squadron Leader in the case of fighters, the core fighting unit of the RAF – similar in ethos to the Army Regiment – where the aim in fighter squadrons was to field and maintain 12 aircraft for combat operations; to achieve this they would typically have more than the required minima of aircraft and pilots on strength, but the attrition of men and machines inevitably took a heavy toll, militating against full complements being available. The organisation of command structure and squadrons represented the ‘Order of Battle’. Fighter Command had four operational Groups for the purposes of defending Britain’s airspace, its principal task. Air Chief Marshal Hugh Dowding [158, chs 16–22], Commander-in-Chief of Fighter Command, had his HQ at Bentley Priory, Stanmore, Middlesex, from where the four Groups were commanded [191] – its heart the ‘Filter Room’ – based upon information from RDF stations and the Observer Corps, discussed shortly. Through Dowding’s pre-war efforts Fighter Command had greatly strengthened its defensive capability, this proving to be a crucial factor during the Battle [234]. On 12 August 1939 Dowding felt sufficiently confident about the air defence system that he gave broad details in a BBC broadcast [191, p. 29]. The most important area was covered by No. 11 Group in the south-east, led by Air Vice-Marshal Keith Park [281, chs 7–11] from his HQ at Uxbridge; No. 12 Group covering the midlands was headed by Air Vice-Marshal Trafford Leigh-Mallory [182, chs 7–8], his HQ based at Watnall, near Nottingham; No. 10 Group covering the south-west, with its HQ at Box, near Bath, with fewer airfields and squadrons than 11 and 12 Groups; and 13 Group covering the north, the HQ at Newcastle-on-Tyne, a vast area subject to very infrequent attacks, in strength. These Groups represented very large areas for air defence controlled by the Group HQ, above, exercising control over the various sectors into which each Group was divided. Sector operations rooms at Sector Stations – also operational airfields – controlled their own and other airfields within sector boundaries, often located to ensure prompt protection of cities, ports, factories and other assets (Plate 1). Battle-period Sector Stations in 11 Group included Biggin Hill, Debden, Hornchurch, Kenley, Northolt, North Weald and Tangmere; those in 12 Group were Church Fenton (formerly in 13 Group), Digby, Duxford, Kirtonin-Lindsey and Wittering, with a separate sector designated for Coltishall, within the Duxford Sector control. 10 Group Sector Stations included Filton, and Middle Wallop (formerly in 11 Group), with large areas serviced from Pembrey and St Eval; 13 Group’s were Acklington, Catterick, Dyce, Turnhouse, Usworth and Wick, with Northern Ireland serviced from Aldergrove [235, between pp. 14 and 15; 29, appx. AA]. Airfields would typically host two or three squadrons depending upon combat circumstances. Sector airfields had other established

Squadrons Up 41

interwar airfields, or sometimes hastily constructed satellite airfields to which aircraft could be dispersed. This became very important in the 11 Group area of responsibility, airports and minor civilian flying fields being taken over such as Gravesend and Croydon.

Command and control Fighter aircraft and squadrons were directed into action by Sector controllers; ‘network-enabled’ capability maximised available assets at whose heart was an effective and robust communications system. RAF fighters were guided via radiotelephony into visual distance of the enemy, depending upon cloud and weather conditions. Understandably, details were sketchy about the precise nature of the Fighter Command’s air defence system, but The Times was able to give an insight in its lengthy article: ‘Airmen on guard – Ready for raiders at a fighter station – A system of unceasing vigilance’ [529, p. 5, col. f]. Some details were officially related in March 1941 about readiness, controllers, and the operations room [93, pp. 6–7]. The ‘scramble’, a regular feature of newsreel and film footage, required that aircraft at readiness for combat were airborne within a few minutes of being ordered off. Upon sighting the enemy the formation leader would say ‘Tally Ho’, a prelude to engaging the enemy. Cinematic and wireless treatments of the RAF’s role during the Battle have reinforced these images of assets calmly and expeditiously deployed: Korda’s 1939 The Lion Has Wings showed an operations room, The First of the Few included a squadron being guided into the attack by a ground controller and the BBC’s Spitfires Over Britain broadcast on 25 June included ‘air-to-ground dialogue’ between pilots and controller [136, pp. 107–8]. Despite this sophistication junior pilots would know relatively little about the larger intelligence picture, their engagement guided largely at the squadron level by its commander. An alternative air defence ‘strategy’ was to mount a series of ‘standing patrols’ to intercept attacking Luftwaffe aircraft and formations, but which without any details of timings, numbers and likely direction ran the significant risk of missing them, allowing attacks to proceed unhindered. The intelligence lacunae created by an ineffective command and control system was revealed during the Battle of France and the Dunkirk evacuation: French and RAF fighters were progressively reacting to events – provided they managed to get airborne in time – rather than fighting within an effective strategic and tactical framework [166, chs xii–xiii; 198]. The RAF’s integrated air defence system was critical to Britain’s survival, reducing the need for wearying routine patrols, wasting precious aviation fuel, and additional aircraft maintenance. Had Britain relied upon this approach to its air defence in 1940 it is inconceivable that the Luftwaffe could have been defeated, unrelenting damage to airfields and aircraft factories rapidly degrading RAF capability and crucially, morale. Barrage balloons

42 The Good Fight

also operated by the RAF sought to impede attacks on strategically important targets. HQ and Sector Operations Rooms contained large plotting tables showing maps of Group and Sector areas. RAF and WAAF personnel [186, pp. 180–7] using croupiers’ rakes, would plot positions of friendly and hostile aircraft using map counters, or chips, to show the number of aircraft, height and in conjunction with a colour-coded clock, how current the information was: it was rarely more than four minutes, or 15 miles behind events as they occurred. Tote boards showed squadrons or aircraft that had been scrambled to intercept enemy formations or aircraft, and ‘stand by’ or ‘readiness’ states. Using this information the RAF controller could monitor the situation and feed squadrons into the air battle, as needed. Positions of RAF fighters were confirmed by the ‘pip squeak’ system whereby RDF stations would pick up the transmitted signal from an RAF fighter and report it directly to the relevant operations room; the aircraft and its formation could then be plotted by using trigonometry and the operation room’s colour-coded clock [191, p. 33]. Churchill, writing after the war, gave a detailed account of his visit to the 11 Group HQ at Uxbridge on the 15 September; the 1941 AM pamphlet provided some details of states of readiness, operations room systems, the role of the controller and the management of fighter squadrons in combat [93, pp. 6–7; 152, pp. 273–6; 191, ch. 7]. The work of an Air Staff Operations officer in 13 Group’s HQ was revealed in 1945 [51, pp. 240–72]. Then Flight Lieutenant Guy Gibson, the celebrated Dambusters’ leader and bomber pilot, was transferred briefly to Fighter Command, serving in Lincolnshire on day- and night-fighting Blenheims from mid-November; based at Wellingore, he visited the Digby Sector Operations Room and recounted the system in operation, but also the difficulties of catching enemy bombers at night before the introduction of airborne radar [205, pp. 122–7]. Striking contrasts between RAF and Luftwaffe combat tactics were evident from the outset of the Battle. RAF squadrons of 12 fighters were sub-divided into two flights, thence into four sections; thus, a squadron typically comprised ‘A’ Flight (six fighters) and ‘B’ Flight (six fighters), within which were the four Sections – often codenamed Blue, Red, Yellow and Green – each with three aircraft. The RAF initially flew in these tight ‘vic’ formations of three aircraft, obliging the pilots to focus upon each other rather than what was happening around them (front cover). The RAF’s ‘tail-end Charlie’, a fighter weaving to the rear of a squadron formation was usually the first to be shot down – a task often given to the newest pilot. The Luftwaffe were scathing about the ‘vic’ formation. RAF attacks were initiated according to a set of rules called Fighting Area Attacks, vastly inferior to Luftwaffe tactics, based upon the schwarm, discussed below. The RAF’s ‘finger four’ greatly improved their fighter tactics (the fingertips portraying aircraft positions); henceforth, the Luftwaffe effectively lost

Squadrons Up 43

any tactical advantage, though such changes were not always made quickly [330, pp. 90–6]. In order to husband aircraft and pilots RAF group and Sector Controllers would only commit them to battle once they were fairly certain of the strength, composition, target and height (given as ‘Angels’ e.g. 19,000 feet was ‘Angels One Nine’) of the incoming raid – either as a full squadron, flight or perhaps only a section.

Early warning – RDF and intelligence Crucial to the RAF’s command and control system described above, was its RDF system. Around the coastline of Britain from the south-west to northeast were some 50 RDF stations so located as to provide a complete, if crude, detection screen facing out to sea, for either high- or low-level coverage, the high-level system reaching across to France along much of the area populated with Luftwaffe fighter and bomber airfields [142, rear-map]. This gave warning of enemy activity, especially where large formations were developing, but the reality was that fighters could cross the narrowest part of the Channel in a few minutes, a tactic developed later by the Luftwaffe using fighter-bomber aircraft often at high ceilings. Given the need to reassure the public that the RAF was able to defeat the Luftwaffe, as a foil for the secret RDF it was implied that sound locators were used to detect incoming enemy aircraft. These had their basis in interwar experiments with fixed concrete discs, but the results were poor. RDF stations were linked to the network of HQ and sector operations rooms, providing a vital and effective command and control system for the RAF. A web of observer posts across Britain passed on vital information about enemy – and friendly – formations once they had moved inland, something not provided by the RDF chain [140; 149; 191, p. 32; 359]. ‘Watchers of the skies – How the Observer Corps aids the fighter pilots – Expert and constant vigil’ was a Times’ tribute as the fighting began to peter out [560, p. 5, col. f]. In its careful deployment of assets the RAF benefited from the intelligence provided by its Y-Service, a series of monitoring stations listening to Luftwaffe radio transmissions from which useful material could be gleaned [154, chs 2–3]. The top secret Ultra work at Bletchley Park was similarly valuable – though opinions vary greatly on this point – decrypts of Luftwaffe Enigma signals provided to senior RAF commanders where these had security clearance for access to such information [164, pp. 43–4; 227, pp. 326–7; 342; 349, ch. 6; 355, chs 6–7]. None of this Group and Sector command and control system using operations rooms, RDF, the Y-Service and Enigma decrypts was known to the public at large, remaining highly secret. IOs at the squadron level played an important part in pilots’ combat reports, pilots’ claims for aircraft shot down or damaged, and other activities such as interviewing Luftwaffe POWs, or inspecting enemy aircraft for new technologies [14].

44 The Good Fight

Fighter pilots Both fighter pilots and aircrews – on whom RAF propaganda attention was mostly focused – were either commissioned officers or SNCO usually in the rank of Sergeant or Flight Sergeant. The bulk of officers flying in front-line combat were Pilot Officers, Flying Officers and Flight Lieutenants, Squadron Leaders being necessarily fewer in number. Unlike the modern RAF substantial numbers of pilots were SNCOs. These contributed very significantly to the air fighting during the Battle, despite post-war opinions that public school educated officers were in the majority. Lord Beaverbrook, whose son was a fighter pilot, revealed the scale of this misunderstanding when in 1940 he proved that only about 30 per cent of the RAF pilots came from public schools, the remainder educated in grammar and other schools [160, p. 327]. In company with the officers, for Sergeant pilots, whether flying bombers or fighters, the wearing of RAF wings proclaimed that the individual was a member of an elite [63, pp. 20–3]. Mark Wells, citing an American wartime fighter pilot’s memories, conveys his striking self-confidence in being tasked with flying the fastest aircraft yet designed, as bold, brave, smart and more able pilots [350, p. 96]. Pilots would in part be aware of their ‘otherness’, when compared to the public at large. For Gibson, writing during the war, the superior status of fighter pilots was made clear from the outset, a select few managing to win a place in a fighter squadron. Everyone hero-worshipped the young man in squadroncrested white-overalls who had just stepped out of a Spitfire, he confirmed [205, p. 116]. For an airman to qualify as a fighter pilot having risen through the ranks was a major personal achievement during the interwar period – and despite the substantial rise in numbers, during the years following it. Harold Balfour noted that in the pre-war RAF it was believed that public-school educated officers were the essential qualifications needed to fly fighters, a myth destroyed during the war given the prowess displayed by SNCO pilots [118, p. 197]. The tough, stratified nature of interwar life for junior RAF ‘rankers’ was powerfully conveyed in J.H. Ross’s (actually Lawrence of Arabia’s) The Mint [250]. Such was the mythology springing from shared experiences that on first meeting his Sergeant flight instructor who had worked up from the lowest ranks, Acting Pilot Officer Geoffrey Wellum, a trainee fighter pilot, recorded his awe, recognising that his tutor represented the best in the RAF, where the highest standards were required [351, p. 31]. In addition to their skills as fighter pilots, the many NCOs attaining commissioned rank during the war confirmed their quality. Of the c.1028 aircrew NCOs and airmen who survived the Battle at least 583 – almost 57 per cent – were commissioned, mostly from 1941 onwards with many attaining the rank of Flight Lieutenant or Squadron Leader before the war’s end [Derived from 358]. Despite going into combat together,

Squadrons Up 45

commissioned and NCO pilots were accommodated in separate Messes and on the whole did not mix socially except when at readiness, where all would mingle and lay around the aircraft, with no differentiation between ranks (Plate 10) [115, p. 83]. Despite this The Thin Blue Line recounted a senior officer’s speech to young officer trainees about the need to maintain a level of social distance between commissioned and non-commissioned pilots, in addition to ground crews [37, pp. 159–61]. Selection procedures for RAF officer pilots were similarly stringent, most failing in their ambition to be taken forward for training as affirmed in RAFsponsored publications, one confirming that for every boy who achieved his wings, there were a dozen who did not [63, pp. 20–3]. Even so, many young men would be tempted to try their luck, the glamour of interwar RAF flying and reportage major inducements. Enchantment with the RAF began early: many boys were fascinated by models of Spitfires and Hurricanes, a means of engaging with the war perhaps being waged overhead and of opening their minds to the possibilities of flying themselves [345, pp. 11–17]. Wells provides an insight into the stringent selection procedures for RAF bomber crews, much of relevance to would-be fighter pilots [350, pp. 12–20]. The RAF wanted the very best candidates to apply, a 1941 publication affirming that neither gold or influence could buy a pair of RAF wings and entitle a person to wear them as a pilot, but that it was possible for anyone aged 18 and above to achieve his aim, whether rich or poor [63, p. 6]. This masks an important reality: one might be ‘poor’, but one had to have qualified at an appropriate level of education that was more difficult to attain for bright working-class children. Colin Perry, an 18-year-old diarist with ambitions to join the RAF, wrote on 22 August that he could imagine nothing better than being a fighter pilot, waiting for the signal to scramble [292, p. 77]. He was though one of the many rejected for flying duties on educational grounds because he did not possess a school certificate [292, p. 2]. Candidates had to pass a stringent medical and an interview, some questions focusing on social status and militating against those from humbler backgrounds [90, pp. 20–6; 31–47]. Playing team sports such as ‘rugger’ or cricket was an advantage [351, pp. 4–7]. The Thin Blue Line recounted the steps taken during selection, training and eventual operational flying, itself a poorly disguised recruiting and introductory manual for wouldbe and nascent aircrew [37]. The initial training of RAF pilots on Tiger Moths was covered in The Aeroplane’s ‘Getting their Wings’, its first part appearing on 27 December 1940 [495, pp. 726–7]. The pre-war RAF was a socially stratified organisation as indeed were the Army and RN, officer pilots in squadrons enjoying the camaraderie and elitism of an almost exclusive, private flying club [232, pp. 145–51]. Additionally, but not always to the pre-war regulars’ liking, the RAF’s ranks were swelled by mobilised,

46 The Good Fight

previously ‘part-time’ pilots, who had trained in the pre-war years either in the RAFVR [90, pp. 79–95; 172] or the AuxAF [90, pp. 96–106], both later proving vital to Britain’s air defence. Significant numbers of such pilots were undergraduates trained in the University Air Squadrons at Oxford and Cambridge [90, pp. 107–10] of whom Flying Officer Richard Hillary, author of The Last Enemy is perhaps most celebrated [45; 301, ch. 2]. Confirming the modest numbers involved during the Battle, RAF fighter pilots available for operations were around 1400 between June and August, with a rise to 1500 during the latter half of September leading Overy to suggest that pilot shortages during mid-August were not as severe as is often maintained [284, p. 41]. Patrick Bishop confirms that the majority of pilots were aged between 19 and 26 [124, p. 324], but argued Dowding, only in rare cases should officers over 26 be posted to command fighter squadrons [29, para. 219, p. 4558]. RAF fighter aircraft Fighter Command’s two principal fighter aircraft were the Spitfire and Hurricane [262; 267; 268]. A single-engined fighter powered by a Rolls Royce Merlin II or III engine (after the bird of prey, not the Arthurian wizard), with three-bladed variable-pitch propeller, the Spitfire’s top speed was 362 mph at 19,500 feet (Plate 2). The Mirror’s Spot Them in the Air! booklet credited the Spitfire, ‘This little terror of the air’, as having a maximum speed of 367 mph and being capable of more [9, p. 9]. For its time the Vickers-Supermarine Spitfire Mk.IA was an outstanding air-superiority fighter, very fast and highly manoeuvrable, matched only by the Luftwaffe’s Messerschmitt Me109 in terms of all round capability. Leading Luftwaffe Me109 fighter aces recognised its qualities, arguing that it was pointless to dogfight the Spitfire, simply because it would have the advantage [330, pp. 96–7]. The aircraft worried the Luftwaffe [142, p. 372], a view doubtless reciprocated by RAF fighter pilots facing the Me109. Despite its excellence, Luftwaffe fighter ace Adolf Galland was so angered during a conversation with Goering by his criticisms both of his fighter arm, and the Spitfire, that when asked what would help, he demanded the British fighter for his group [200, pp. 78–9]. Whilst Galland believed the Me109 to be superior in attack, as a defensive aircraft it lacked the manoeuvrability of the Spitfire. Japanese military attach´es in London were of the view that the Spitfire was an excellent aircraft, its capability as an interceptor deemed the key factor in early British successes in July [161, p. 112]. This view, based upon limited observations of air combats, an example perhaps of effective British propaganda. American supplies of 100-octane fuel made a difference to the Merlin power plant, giving RAF fighters in combat an initial performance boost over the Me109. Richard Hallion states that of the American contribution, US-supplied 100-octane fuel had a ‘force multiplier’ effect on RAF fighters [216, p. 90],

Squadrons Up 47

a view shared by Hough & Richards [227, p. 387]. However, Overy notes doubts about the claimed advantages the fuel afforded to RAF fighters in being able to out-turn the Me109 [284, p. 57]. The Spitfire was armed with eight 0.303 Browning machine-guns – each with 300 rounds, giving a sustained burst of about 15 seconds – but some were adapted to carry cannons, with mixed results. The Spitfire Mk.IIA began to be supplied to squadrons from 22 August, with a better service ceiling and rate of climb – 195 had been accepted by the RAF at the Battle’s conclusion. Although less numerous than the Hurricane, the Spitfire came to symbolise Britain’s determination to continue the war. It was the focus of Spitfire Funds and other propaganda, acquiring a legendary, iconicised status that has been sustained since the war ended, largely – and misleadingly – eclipsing the Hurricane’s important role. Christopher Coker affirms that despite the accolades for the pilots, it was the Spitfire that captured the imagination as an ‘animate combatant’, an almost supernatural fusion of pilot and fighter [156, pp. 82–3]. Be that as it may, it is the most famous aircraft in aviation history, and remains inseparable from the Battle. Also powered by the Merlin II or III and carrying eight Browning machineguns, the Hawker Hurricane Mk.I was an impressive fighter, but Sydney Camm’s more traditional design gave it a less impressive performance than the Spitfire. Dowding argued in 1941 that based upon tests, the Hurricane’s actual, optimum average speed was only 305 mph, and not the 335 mph claimed in the 1941 AM pamphlet [29, para. 105, p. 4549]. Previously, Spot Them in the Air! claimed that the Hurricane had a top speed of over 360 mph [9, p. 8]. In August small numbers of the Mk.II variant began to be delivered, with a better speed of 342 mph. However, the Hurricane provided the backbone of RAF Fighter Command, proving to be a dependable, rugged, manoeuvrable and effective dogfighting aircraft, very capable against bombers. It represented 55 per cent of the front-line strength, as against 31 per cent, Spitfires, in early August [284, p. 38]. In other words there were 29 squadrons of Hurricanes and 19 of Spitfires on 1 July [142, pp. 419–22]. A full squadron of 12 fighters engaged in combat with a collective complement of 96 machine-guns, carrying a total of 28,800 rounds between them. Compared to an infantry Section (eight men) or Platoon (32 men) this represented a considerable weight of fire-power for its time, provided guns did not jam; pre-war requirements had only specified two or four machine-guns per aircraft, a requirement changed in 1934 to eight after analysis by Squadron Leader Ralph Sorley [142, pp. 71–2]. The 1941 book British Fighter Planes gave a detailed overview of the development and successes of the Hurricane and Spitfire [38, pp. 113–38]. Some squadrons also flew the Boulton-Paul Defiant I, a slow, single-engined fighter, with a two-man crew, armed only with a powered-turret housing four Browning machine-guns. It proved effective against bombers, but was highly

48 The Good Fight

vulnerable to Luftwaffe fighters when attacked from the front, the two squadrons of them involved in the day-battle relegated to night-fighting after heavy losses. Its limitations had been known for some time, confirmed again in May 1941 [38, pp. 143–4]. The Bristol Blenheim IF was similarly outclassed in its role as a twin-engined day-fighter; unmanoeuvrable in combat, it was cautiously acknowledged as such [38, p. 101]. The RAF operated seven squadrons of these with many later relegated to night-fighting as the Blitz developed, at which, without radar they were of limited use. Beaufighters with radar began to be used in very small numbers from September [205, pp. 122–8]. Although opinions vary, the numbers of fighters available in front-line RAF units at the beginning of July were some 754 single-seat fighters, and 149 twoseat fighters, including the Defiant and Blenheim. Of the single-seat fighters, the crucial aircraft, 546 were serviceable. In opposition the Luftwaffe could field a total strength of 4074 aircraft.

The Luftwaffe Interwar rearmament and organisation for war Following the First World War the German Air Force was disbanded and banned from maintaining military combat aircraft. Despite this, secret progress was made to re-establish Germany’s air arm, even before Hitler became Chancellor. This re-arming and build up of the Luftwaffe was accelerated as Hitler’s Nazi party assumed power, with an increasing emphasis upon the design, development and provision of military aircraft from 1933 onwards [273, ch. 1]. Goering announced the existence of the Luftwaffe on 10 March 1935, to wide concern [52, p. 83]. A key element of this programme was the distorting propaganda concerning the Luftwaffe’s strength and capability, with the aim of intimidating opponents with dire threats of annihilation and destruction wrought by countless thousands of invincible Nazi bombers. Even in 1935 it was suggested that the Luftwaffe might have a total strength of 4000 aircraft, of which 1500 could be deemed ‘first line’ in the sense of availability for military use [52, p. 95]. The reality however was very different, and even by 1938 the Luftwaffe could not easily have fought the Battle even had it been able to use occupied French airfields. But then, neither could the RAF [272, pp. 266–7: a counterfactual in 163]. Despite this, during the Battle there was propaganda value for the RAF in appearing to prevail against overwhelming odds, the psychological trick of acknowledging an enemy’s strengths leading to enhanced reinforcement through victories. Even so, headed by Reichsmarchall Goering [286, ch. 7], the front-line strength of the Luftwaffe had increased substantially so that by 1936, it was able to contribute to General Franco’s success in the Spanish Civil War through the controversial German Condor Legion. Combat experience provided ample

Squadrons Up 49

opportunity to battle test aircraft such as the Me109 fighter, and develop the tactics put to excellent use against the British and French once battle was joined in May; however, such experience did not equip the Luftwaffe to fight against Britain’s sophisticated command and control system, and their expertise was increasingly found wanting. The use of the schwarm, comprised of two pairs of fighter aircraft, was a much more flexible and effective formation for fighters providing excellent visual cover. Strikingly, despite tactical prowess the Luftwaffe was not able to track the locations of enemy or its own aircraft, in the manner adopted by the RAF via RDF and an equivalent of the ‘pip squeak’ method. The Luftwaffe also lacked the ability to control its fighters once they were airborne; radiotelephony provision was wholly inadequate or non-existent despite the efforts of some pilots [333, pp. 126–9]. In June, having defeated France, the Luftwaffe set about preparing for the air assault upon mainland Britain. Three Air Groups, or Luftflotte, faced Britain: Air Fleet 2, led by Generalfeldmarschall Albert Kesselring [257, ch. 4], was distributed across northern France, above Paris, and Belgium, broadly facing Sussex, Kent, Essex, Suffolk and Norfolk; Air Fleet 3, headed by Generalfeldmarschall Hugo Sperrle, was widely spread across the remainder of western and northern France, facing Hampshire, Dorset, Devon and Cornwall; Air Fleet 5 was based in Norway, facing the eastern coastline of Britain above the area covered by Air Fleet 3, but they had very little involvement after large losses during two attacks on the north-east coast. Goering’s three Air Fleets were similarly divided into formal groups and squadrons though with different numbers of aircraft in each when compared with the RAF’s system. In all they fielded 1107 Me109 fighters, 357 Me110 fighters, 1380 bombers, 428 dive-bombers and various coastal and reconnaissance aircraft between them – a total strength of 4074 potentially ranged against Britain [142, p. 107]. Me109 fighters were located on airfields as close to England as possible, many in the Pas-de-Calais to maximise its limited range and combat duration. Unlike Britain’s aircraft production and repair output Germany’s was not as substantial, with the result that aircraft shot down were not replaced as quickly. This gradually became a serious issue as numbers of reserve and serviceable aircraft became low. Aircraft The Luftwaffe was equipped with a range of aircraft, some excellent, some less so. Twin-engined bombers included the Junkers Ju88A, Dornier Do17Z and Heinkel He111P, but all were vulnerable when attacked by RAF fighters and despite machine-gun armament, required escort by fighters. Although the Luftwaffe had considered the development of four-engined heavy bombers it was decided to pursue twin-engined aircraft, on the basis that their main use would be to closely support army operations in Blitzkrieg warfare. Strategically, this was a major

50 The Good Fight

error. The Focke Wulf FW200C Condor was the only early-war, four-engined aircraft used by the Luftwaffe, its role focused upon maritime reconnaissance and anti-shipping attacks, but rarely inland targets. The Junkers Ju87 Stuka, developed as a dive-bomber, had been used to devastating effect in German invasions of Poland, France and the Low Countries, but was to prove extremely vulnerable over Britain where RAF fighters found them easy prey. After severe losses the Stukas were withdrawn on 18 August, only to be used in lower-risk attacks on shipping thereafter. The ‘slaughter’ warranted a chapter in James Spaight’s 1941 account of the Battle [88, ch. 6]. Willy Messerschmitt’s Me109E, Emil (variants 1–3, and also known as the Bf109 – Bayerische Flugzeugwerke), was the Luftwaffe’s only single-engined fighter, with a top speed of 357 mph at 12,300 feet, its effectiveness proving to be crucial. A superb aircraft, it was mostly evenly matched against the Spitfire – pilot skill and tactical advantage usually the decisive factor – but usually prevailed above 20,000 feet. This advantage meant little if escorted bombers flew beneath this height, as the RAF’s fighters targeted these – but the RAF could be bounced. This situation only changed when Me109s were adapted as fighter-bombers from October, flying at high ceilings. The Me109 was armed with a mixture of machine-guns and cannons. It was mostly superior to the Hurricane in performance but arguably less manoeuvrable, a weakness in a dogfight dependent upon turning tight circles, where speed became less important. Stephen Bungay argues that the Me109 did not have sufficient performance superiority over the Hurricane to achieve the decisive level of attrition required [142, p. 372]. The Me109’s Daimler-Benz direct-fuel injection engine allowed the nose to be pushed straight down into a dive, or ‘bunt’, a major advantage over the RAF’s fighters where the fuel supply cut out momentarily, with a crucial loss of speed – this was only partially remedied in Spring, 1941. A short range of 412 miles seriously reduced the Me109’s combat capability over England, placing the Luftwaffe at a serious and perhaps unnecessary disadvantage; drop-tanks were tried but deemed a fire risk [284, p. 51; 312, pp. 158–61]. This was to prove decisive once it became clear that Luftwaffe bombers attacking inland targets such as London required large numbers of escorting fighters throughout their missions that were simply not available. The Me109 though able to range to the north of London, could only accompany bombers over the capital for a few minutes, and even less if in a combat situation. In the face of such knowledge deciding to stay and fight the RAF in support of harassed bombers was courageous, with many Me109 pilots ditching in the Channel having run out of fuel on the return to base. Another single-engined German fighter bore close comparison with the Me109, but was believed by the RAF to enjoy superior performance. Despite Nazi propaganda claims the Heinkel He113 was never put into full production, but was frequently reported and there can be no doubt that RAF pilots were

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actually encountering the Me109. The Aeroplane dated 25 October included a photograph of ‘Heinkel’s latest’ claiming that ‘they have appeared over England in increasing numbers recently’, and were capable of 400 mph [487, p. 454]. American Pilot Officer Art Donahue had been told to expect to encounter them, even though none had been seen as yet by his new squadron [27, p. 26]. Saunders in 1941 suggested that a few had been used, and were capable of about 380 mph [93, p. 5]. The Luftwaffe initially held the less effective Messerschmitt Me110C, the Zerst¨orer, a twin-engined fighter capable of 349 mph, with a twoman crew, in very high regard. It was armed with a mixture of cannons and machine-guns. Distinguishing itself in early campaigns, once it came up against RAF fighters its weaknesses were quickly revealed and it became necessary to provide Me109 fighter escorts for it. It proved a much more effective nightfighter later in the war. Again confirming the difficulties of accurate aircraft recognition, the Fw187 Zerst¨orer, featured in 12 October’s ILN, bore a striking resemblance to the Me110, reflecting problems with accurate RAF intelligence [510, p. 478].

The Battle of Britain Build up to the air war The Dunkirk evacuation in late May–early June where 338,226 British and French troops were rescued was a low point for Britain’s reputation. Despite being a military disaster it was skilfully projected as a miracle of resolve and deliverance. The BEF had lost vital weapons and ordnance, leaving it ill prepared to withstand an invasion attempt. From June there was considerable focus upon rebuilding units, training and building defensive positions [111; 190, pp. 197–212; 152, pp. 233–48]. RAF airfield defences were similarly strengthened. Although the German Navy, the Kriegsmarine and the Wehrmacht had given some consideration to a possible invasion of Britain, efforts were now increased to formulate a strategy to achieve this, with varying degrees of enthusiasm [190; 244; 340]. Codenamed Sea Lion, Goering appears to have taken no interest in the invasion planning, nor encouraged senior Luftwaffe officers to participate. Whilst the Wehrmacht was keen to progress such plans the Kriegsmarine could see the hazards more clearly, especially against a strong and resolute RN. Also discussed in the introduction, another concern was the presumed strength of RAF’s Fighter and Bomber Commands, air superiority over the invasion beachheads deemed essential. Having vanquished France’s L’Arm´ee de l’air and the RAF’s AASF and Air Component during the Battle of France, the Luftwaffe was confident of its ability to defeat Fighter Command. German morale was high and many expected a swift victory, believing that their aircraft, tactics, training and experience were superior to those of the RAF. The Luftwaffe’s probable assessment of the RAF was

52 The Good Fight

reflected in Britain Can Take It, accompanying the 1940 film of the same name: ‘England they knew had a certain number of Hurricane fighters, piloted, it was true by foolishly brave officers of the RAF. But what had these few squadrons been able to do to arrest the German drive through the Low Countries, Belgium and France?’ [76, p. 1]. The reality was that over France and Dunkirk, the RAF – in addition to losing many aircraft – had inflicted heavy casualties [166, pp. 306–8; 198, appx. A]. It was also the case that some 400 Luftwaffe aircrew had been shot down and captured over France (and thereafter repatriated, to Churchill’s intense anger) [20, pp. 239–40]. Churchill’s ‘Finest Hour’ speech to the Commons on 18 June gave pause for thought, as did the RN’s destruction of the French Fleet at Mers-el-Kebir [20, p. 225]. Such resolve was difficult to comprehend in Germany. On 16 July Hitler’s War Directive No. 16 concerning the invasion of England set out a number of qualifying conditions, but also began the process for invasion preparations. With no peace agreement in sight, on 19 July Hitler addressed the Reichstag with his ‘appeal to reason’ speech, the victor extending largesse to the vanquished: the BBC thought little of the offer and appears to have rejected it even before Churchill’s government was able to do so. Copies of A Last Appeal to Reason by Adolf Hitler were dropped over Britain, mirroring the RAF’s propaganda leafleting operations during the Phoney War. On the final page, in ‘A Glimpse into the Future’ Hitler stated that his army and air force were even better equipped than they had been before the drive into France. A series of promotions were indicated, many conferred upon senior Luftwaffe officers including Goering, Generalfeldmarschall Erhard Milch – Goering’s second-in-command – Kesselring and Sperrle in recognition of their achievements in recent conflicts, including France’s defeat.

Defining the Battle as an event The Battle’s beginning as an air war was difficult to precisely date because of its erratic nature, early skirmishes not providing a clear indication of a determined Luftwaffe offensive. Even Dowding had to acknowledge that because of the progressive and diverse nature of the air fighting it was difficult to identify a clear start date, but felt that 10 July had some merit [29, para. 13, p. 4544]. Some wartime commentators believed that it began on 18 June, being just over three weeks earlier than 10 July – by 1943 the officially agreed date [33, p. 244; 88, p. 29; 98, p. 98]. Peter Masefield suggested 8 July in ‘The Air Assault on Britain’, in The Sphere on 9 November [88, p. 19], whilst Major-General Chaney whose statement was published by the press on 5 December, suggested 8 August [88, p. 19]. In defining the beginning and end of the campaign the AM initially opted for the period 8 August–31 October in its 1941 pamphlet [93]. It is hard to disagree with Overy’s view that the pamphlet has been decisive in shaping

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perceptions of the Battle as a historical event, with dates for both its beginning and end [285, p. 272], despite leaving out the initial period from 10 July. Not all were clear, as Sheean recalled: ‘We did not call it the Battle of Britain; indeed I never knew that name for it until the following spring [1941], when an AM booklet came out under that title . . . We knew it was a battle, but we did not know it was the Battle of Britain’ [84, pp. 152–3]. A letter to an American from Britain on 14 August echoed this view: ‘This, little as we knew it, was the beginning of the Battle of Britain, which has been superbly described in the booklet of that name’ [96, p. 47]. In 1942, writer Odette Keun, who wrote at length about the Battle based in part upon the 1941 pamphlet [50, pp. 265–79], similarly acknowledged that the details were disputatious, with widely differing views concerning dates, figures and the methods used serving to confuse the issues [50, p. 264]. As noted above, by mid-war the dates had been officially agreed: 10 July–31 October, and confirmed as early as August 1943 in a pamphlet issued to recruits [2, pp. 41, 81]. Both AM publications suggested phases (Chronology). The 1943 dates are now accepted as defining the officially recognised period.

Phase one This initial phase lasted from 10 July to 7 August, but records show that early skirmishes began before this, sometimes involving combats between large numbers of RAF and Luftwaffe aircraft [356; 235; 263, pp. 131–56]. Attacks principally on Channel convoys for which the RAF were obliged to provide escorts at the insistence of the Admiralty, some factories and coastal targets, night raids and reconnaissance activity, confirmed early Luftwaffe activity. They used this period to test the RAF’s defensive systems, and to probe for weaknesses, but found fewer than they might have hoped for. Initial air attacks were focused along the Kent coastline, and especially around Dover. During July and August RAF Bomber Command attacked Luftwaffe airfields in France and the Low Countries, part of a developing campaign in support of Fighter Command. During the period 10–31 July the RAF lost 91 fighters, and the Luftwaffe, a total of 185 fighters and bombers [300, p. 707]. Hitler issued War Directive No.17 on 1 August in which he articulated his topsecret orders for the Luftwaffe’s campaign against the RAF, in addition to attacks on harbours used for food imports. The clear aim was that the Luftwaffe must quickly and decisively destroy the RAF [356, p. 122]. Having agreed its strategy in response to Hitler’s new directive, the Luftwaffe High Command issued orders to the three Air Fleets on 3 August [258, pp. 379–80]. These concerned plans for Adlerangriff, ‘The Attack of the Eagles’, but at this stage no date was specified for Adler Tag, or ‘Eagle Day’, the formal, massive attack on the RAF’s squadrons and installations. In line with Hitler’s orders this had originally been set for 2 or 3

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August but various disagreements and planning issues served to delay Eagle Day. Poor weather led to further postponements, into phase two [356, pp. 122–3]. Phase two This ran from 8 to 23 August, being marked by an increasing level of attacks against shipping, and from 12 August, with determined, large scale attacks against RDF stations, coastal airfields and other targets along the south-east and southern English coastline. Attacks on RDF stations met with some success temporarily blinding the RAF at points along the coast. Had Goering known this and maintained such attacks the RAF’s defensive system would have come under severe pressure. His decision to end them – they were believed to be achieving little – was one of several serious errors made. On 13 August the postponed Adler Tag or Eagle Day began but poor communications and weather conditions caused many difficulties for the Luftwaffe. This marked an escalation in attacks upon south-east England, with an increasing level of pressure being applied to the RAF’s fighter squadrons, and its ability to fend off wide-ranging assaults. As the fighting intensified its scale can be judged by aircraft losses on 15 August. The Luftwaffe recorded 76 aircraft destroyed or damaged in combat (the RAF had claimed 180), against the RAF’s 35 fighters [300, p. 707]. Believing that the RAF had few if any fighters in the 13 Group area, the Luftwaffe’s Air fleet 5, based in Norway, had attempted two attacks on the RAF’s airfields in the north near Newcastle and at Driffield, but were met by fierce and effective opposition; in these attacks alone the Luftwaffe lost some 16 bombers and 7 fighters [356, p. 167]. 15 August proved an important moment in the air war, with the Luftwaffe reviewing various aspects of its tactical approach including the withdrawal of Air fleet 5. Elements were later to be moved south to reinforce Air fleet 2 in France. Although 15 August was a highly significant day with many Luftwaffe losses, it has to be viewed within the wider spectrum of the air war. The Luftwaffe were still determinedly and effectively seeking to defeat the RAF a month later on 15 September, and it should be recalled that until 7 September, and the attack on London, the RAF was in very serious difficulty in the 11 Group area. Writing in his Their Finest Hour volume, Churchill states of 15 August that it was both a decisive day and disaster for the Luftwaffe that cast doubt on their strength, but he does not at this time suggest that it was the decisive moment [152, p. 267]. Becoming known as ‘the hardest day’, 18 August saw Luftwaffe losses of or damage to 100 aircraft in the air and on the ground; and the RAF, 73 fighters, not including other non-fighter aircraft attacked on the ground at airfields [297, pp. 194–212]. These were the most substantial levels of losses to either air force. With such levels of attrition by mid-August both sides faced challenges, especially with the supply of fighter pilots [284, p. 124]. Given such

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losses, maintaining supplies of fighter aircraft to the RAF became vital. Both new factory production and repairs to damaged aircraft proved to be immensely important, giving Fighter Command an edge entirely underestimated by Luftwaffe intelligence, its IOs erroneously believing that RAF losses were substantial, replacements not keeping up [128, pp. 46–7]. On 20 August Churchill gave his famous tribute to the Few in the Commons, but there remained over two months of hard fighting to go [152, p. 252].

Phase three This began on 24 August lasting until 6 September, with very heavy, sustained attacks against RAF coastal and inland airfields designed to wear down its fighter strength either through aerial combat or damage on the ground. These paid dividends for the Luftwaffe and damage was inflicted at Fighter Command Sector Stations including Biggin Hill, Hornchurch, Kenley, Middle Wallop, North Weald and Tangmere. Other airfields and satellite airfields at Croydon, Gravesend, Hawkinge, Lympne, Manston, Martlesham Heath, Rochford, Warmwell and West Malling were attacked [142, p. 287], and some non-fighter bases. In addition to the deaths of personnel, destroyed buildings, aircraft and damaged runways, a major problem was the impact upon RAF Sector Operations Rooms, the heart of the command and control system. It is probable that local air-superiority over parts of the south-east coast in 11 Group was ceded to the Luftwaffe, partly satisfying the conditions for invasion, but the Luftwaffe’s intelligence staff was not aware of this hard won success. Park, Head of 11 Group, noted in an internal report dated 12 September that between 28 August and 5 September, damage to Sector Stations was seriously impairing fighting efficiency [142, p. 290]. The Few’s average life expectancy was some four or five weeks during this period, many inexperienced pilots being lost after only one or two sorties. Dowding’s policy of rotating exhausted fighter squadrons in order to allow for rest and the integration of replacement pilots meant that few were at full strength, or sufficiently rested [284, p. 81]. The supply of replacement fighter pilots was by then a crucial issue and on the 25 August, Churchill wrote to Sinclair urging him to ensure that no additional operational RAF fighter pilots could be found, currently not flying in fighter squadrons. Churchill was particularly shocked by the c.1600 pilots withheld from operational service for the purposes of manning communication squadrons or on staff duties [209, p. 760; 284, pp. 41–2]. It is arguable that Fighter Command came closest to losing during this period – ‘the narrow margin’ (which again raises the vexed issue about the RAF’s ability to defend Britain during 1938) [356]. However, the RAF had squadrons in its 12 and 13 Groups, and also 10 Group to the west, with many being rested from combat and training new pilots. These could have been fed into the action if the situation became

56 The Good Fight

serious enough, but casualties would have been high amongst novices. The Luftwaffe was of course suffering heavy losses too. Aircraft losses between the 1 and 31 August were far more substantial than those during July: the RAF lost 389 fighters, and the Luftwaffe 694 fighters and bombers [300, p. 707]. Although not immediately appreciated, the first RAF raid by Bomber Command against Berlin on 25/26 August was to have profound repercussions on the outcome of the Second World War. Causing little damage, it provoked a furious response from Hitler, and the turn against London. His decision may partly have been prompted by a belief that Fighter Command was severely degraded, an attack on London being sufficient to rapidly end the war with Britain – strategically, this was not unreasonable. Phase four This significant change in strategy was unleashed on 7 September with a major Luftwaffe daylight attack on London, marking the start of the Blitz. Daylight attacks ran until 30 September with night raids continuing against the capital and other major targets throughout the remainder of 1940, until 16 May 1941. This decision relieved pressure upon RAF Fighter Command, allowing it to regroup after the punishing air battles during August and early September. On the night of the 7/8 September Bomber Command began regular, concerted attacks against the assembly of invasion barges in Channel ports throughout September and into earlier October: these had the effect of inflicting losses of sufficient impact to cause real difficulties with preparations [266, pp. 80–9]. Guy Gibson detailed his own experiences in ‘Battle of the Barges’ [205, ch. viii]; and recorded as a whole in the official account [92, ch. ix]. ‘Bomber’ Harris in believing that this contribution was underestimated remained adamant that it was Bomber Command’s attacks against barges that persuaded Hitler to abandon the invasion [218, p. 43]. Luftwaffe airfields in Holland and France were attacked with the aim of inhibiting air operations against Britain. Bungay notes that two-thirds of bomber attacks directly supported Fighter Command [142, p. 91]. As September progressed the AM continued to release figures concerning high numbers of RAF ‘kills’ to the BBC, who dutifully reported these almost like ‘cricket scores’, the climax reached on 15 September (thereafter Battle of Britain day) with a claim of 185 German aircraft destroyed. Subsequent worldwide media coverage proclaimed it as a massive RAF victory, a view reinforced in post-Battle film and other contexts. The post-war total proved in fact to be about 61; the RAF had lost 31 aircraft, with 16 pilots killed [300, p. 707; 296]. It was nevertheless an important victory confirming beyond doubt that the RAF was not down to a handful of Spitfires. A factor on 15 September had been the presence of ‘Big Wing’ formations, a cause of astonishment – and anxiety – to Luftwaffe aircrews. In 12 Group Flight Lieutenant Douglas Bader’s Big Wing, comprising up to five squadrons, had been

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used against Luftwaffe formations leading him to argue for more employment of them – this, despite sharp criticism from Park at 11 Group for 12 Group’s failure to sometimes protect their airfields as requested. Despite Park’s policy of carefully managing his 11 Group fighter resources and deploying them in a measured fashion, serious disagreements grew with Leigh-Mallory at 12 Group. In order to resolve the Big Wing issues, later, on 17 October, an RAF senior officers’ conference included Dowding and Park. Leigh-Mallory took Flight Lieutenant (Acting Squadron Leader) Bader, who had less front-line experience than many in 11 Group, where his comments about Big Wings were inevitably controversial [199; 303; 319]. It is clear that in Park’s 11 Group, it would have been extremely difficult to form up Big Wings to meet large attacks. This meeting was to have serious consequences for Dowding and Park. Discussed in the introduction, after 15 September Goering was forced to concede that his previously undefeated air force had not gained the air superiority essential for a successful invasion. On 17 September Hitler postponed plans for Sea Lion, but sought to project a continuing level of threat, if only for the purposes of a psychological dimension in support of the broader strategic campaign against Britain. This decision in respect of the invasion was partly confirmed by a secret Ultra decrypt from Bletchley Park but was kept from the British public; aerial reconnaissance sorties confirmed the gradual dispersal of barges in Channel ports, a process under way by 2 October and Hitler’s decision on that date to dismantle the invasion fleets [224, pp. 185–9; 258, p. 405; 355, p. 58]. On 21 September, Park responding to higher ceilings being flown by the Luftwaffe and RAF fighters being ‘bounced’ as they ascended to battle height, ordered standing patrols in which his Hurricanes focused on the bombers heading for London; the Spitfires, the fighters [284, p. 93]. The results showed through clearly: air operations against Britain on 27 September were almost as catastrophic as those of 15 September, with Luftwaffe losses of 57 aircraft; 47 were lost on 30 September, leading to a major change in tactics – overall, aircraft losses between the 1 and 30 September amounted to 358 RAF fighters, and 629 Luftwaffe fighters and bombers [300, p. 707]. Phase five This, an acknowledgment of a faltering strategy, began on 1 October, the Luftwaffe mounting fighter-bomber attacks, through to 31 October, marking the final period. These high-flying fighter-bomber attacks by Messerschmitt Me109s and Me110s were notable for their nuisance value rather then destructive capability and the RAF’s need to maintain standing patrols to intercept them. Modified German fighters were placed at a serious disadvantage through having to carry a single 250-kg under-slung bomb, greatly reducing manoeuvrability – losses inevitably mounted. The Luftwaffe could not hope to bring Britain’s RAF to its knees using such tactics but relied instead upon the Blitz

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on London and other cities, its twin-engined bombers featuring far less in daylight raids against Britain as the month progressed. Bernard Davy confirmed this change in Luftwaffe tactics, announced on 8 October as a five-point plan, and also published in War Illustrated. The key themes were as follows: gaining complete control over the English Channel and coastal areas; the destruction of London, including its military and industrial sites; targeting Britain’s technical, industrial and commercial life so that it ceased to function; demoralizing civilians and London and the provinces; and finally, degrading Fighter Command’s defensive capability [25, p. 139; 592, p. 442]. Whether this was a retrospective statement of aims or their future plan of campaign is not clear but the Luftwaffe had failed to achieve its goals, and especially the crucial fifth point by that date. Continuing, specific and destructive precision attacks against London’s high-value targets and Britain’s industrial centres were theoretically possible during night attacks, but accuracy was a problem. That said, for the Luftwaffe on a clear night London was an easy target to find, the Thames as effective a guide as the German Knickebein navigational beam [221, p. 223]. There was a sharp contrast between the RAF’s successes against the Luftwaffe during day fighting, and their apparent impotence in the face of night raids during the Blitz. No amount of propagandising could disguise this bitter truth for those caught up in ceaseless bomber attacks against London and other major centres of population [302, pp. 123–49]. Aircraft losses during the period 1–31 October were 185 RAF fighters, and 379 Luftwaffe fighters and bombers [300, p. 707]. Reduced Luftwaffe daylight activities only finally petered out towards the end of 1940 as winter weather rendered air operations pointless [193]. Unlike the Luftwaffe Fighter Command finished the battle with more fighters than when it began, but had had some difficulties in supplying combatready pilots; but this is questioned [284, pp. 40–1]. It had been an exhausting and viciously contested battle for air supremacy.

Reckoning From the British perspective fighter aircrew from many nationalities assisted the RAF, the contribution of all deemed vital. 2917 men were awarded the Battle of Britain clasp for having flown operationally with a fighter squadron during its 114 days as one of the Few [358, p. i]. Of these 2334 were British, the vast majority appearing to have been English by birth, based upon a sample of 1027 United Kingdom aircrew. This suggests that 128 were born in Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland, leaving 899 English aircrew, but hardly a surprise given the relative differences in population size [107, p. 247]. Non-British fighter aircrew amounted to 583 men, of which Poland comprised the largest contingent at 145 [278], followed by New Zealand’s 126, Canada’s 98 and Czechoslovakia’s 88. Australia provided 33, Belgium 29, South Africa 25 (Plate 4), France 13 [270],

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the United States between 7 and 11 (but complicated by some claiming to be Canadian because of the US Neutrality Act – Kershaw arguing for eight men [243]), and Ireland, ten men. The remaining five men were from Rhodesia, Jamaica and Newfoundland [358, p. 2; 263, pp. 170–1; 142, pp. 175–6; 298, p. 142]. Spaight gave broad details of the Few in 1941 [88, ch. 3]. Commissioned officers provided some 58 per cent of all RAF aircrew, some 1696 men, with the vast majority holding junior ranks. Most flew Hurricanes and Spitfires, though some were air gunners in Blenheims and Defiants. Many officers went on to achieve senior ranks both during and following the war, large numbers of them awarded DFCs for exceptional courage and prowess in the air fighting [358]. Contrary to post-war mythology SNCO pilots were an essential element of Fighter Command’s overall strength, the vast majority Sergeants piloting Hurricanes, or the less numerous Spitfire. Sergeant pilots and noncommissioned aircrews contributed c.1221 men or almost 42 per cent of the Few [Derived from 358]. Non-commissioned ranks of all nationalities qualifying for the Battle of Britain clasp included Warrant Officers, Flight Sergeants, Sergeants, Corporals and Aircraftsmen. Based upon the highest gazetted rank attained during the Battle these included pilots, air-gunners, observers, airborne radar operators or wireless operator/air gunners, in aircraft including the Defiant, Beaufighter or Blenheim. Curiously, in the latter aircraft a number of junior airmen received the clasp for undertaking only one operational flight on a relevant fighter squadron, whereas many SNCO single-seat fighter pilots were combatactive throughout, flying several gruelling sorties a day with officer colleagues [358]. Many Sergeant pilots were awarded the DFM for combat prowess. Despite extensive and high-quality research, opinions vary about the numbers of fighter aircrew killed. Of the 2917 Few, 544 aircrew lost their lives, the great majority in combat, and a handful in accidents [358, p. 2]. However, Overy states that the figure was 443, a number closer to the 1941 figure published by the AM of ‘375 pilots killed and 358 wounded’ [284, p. 134; 93, p. 32]; Winston Ramsey suggests 537, where of these latter the monthly fatalities were: July, 68; August, 176; September, 173; and October, 120 [300, p. 707]. This equates to 33 RAF pilots being killed each week, for the 16-week period – or, some five men each day. Officers experienced 62 per cent of all losses amongst the Few, c.315 killed in action or more rarely, accidents (using an aggregated figure of 508 men lost, when combining Overy, Ramsey and Wynn, above) [Derived from 358]. These losses were proportionally almost four per cent higher than those of Sergeants and other airmen, but it is difficult to advance firm reasons for the difference. Losses amongst the ranks were similarly high, c.193 NCOs and airmen killed during operational flying or accidents when on active squadrons, a total of 38 per cent overall (of the 508). Some losses were of aircrews in Blenheims (three man crew), and Defiants (two men) [358]. Many of the Few carried on fighting, with another 795 losing their lives by the time war with

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Japan had ended on 15 August 1945 [358, p. 2] – overall, 1339 were killed of the original 2917, or 45.9 per cent. Hitler’s Luftwaffe lost some 2800 aircrew killed or missing in action during the Battle; another 340 were wounded [226, p. 29]. However, Ramsey claims 2662 died, these monthly fatality levels being: July, 348; August, 993; September, 829; and October, 492 [300, p. 707]. This approximates to c.166 Luftwaffe aircrew for each of the 16 weeks, or almost 24 men per day. Clearly these levels of attrition were unsustainable when the demand for trained, experienced and effective aircrew are considered; many others ended up as POWs. Putting these high losses in context with Bomber Command’s experience is equally sobering, Max Hastings confirming that throughout the Battle, the ‘bomber boys’ suffered higher casualty rates then the Few [221, p. 93]. During Bomber Command’s attack against Nuremberg on 30/31 March 1944, 95 bombers were shot down, representing the deaths, wounding or capture of some 665 aircrew on one night [266, pp. 486–7]. The AM accepted and published the Few’s claims for a total of 2375 Luftwaffe aircraft destroyed during the period 8 August–31 October, discussed in Chapter 4 [93, p. 31]. Both Churchill and Basil Liddel Hart state that the RAF claimed 2698 Luftwaffe aircraft – some between 10 July and 7 August, not included in the above – but this does not compute with Ramsey’s figures; conversely, the Luftwaffe claimed 3058 RAF aircraft [152, p. 278; 192, pp. 91–220; 252, p. 115; 300, p. 707]. These were wildly optimistic when compared with actual RAF losses [197, ch. 5]. Post-war historical analysis allowed a more realistic assessment to be made of the actual aircraft losses on both sides, but opinions vary. For example, Overy records that the RAF’s fighter losses were 915 aircraft; the Luftwaffe’s, 1733 fighters and bombers [284, p. 128]. Figures cited in Ramsey, also a well-regarded account states that the RAF lost 1023 fighters, the Luftwaffe 1887 bombers and fighters [300, p. 707]. As to aircraft effectiveness, given the propaganda focus upon the Spitfire it is a striking fact that they represented about one-third of the combined fighter force with the Hurricane, yet experienced losses of 38.3 per cent of the overall fighter numbers [284, pp. 38, 161]. This may be partly explained by the Spitfires taking on the Me109s, as Hurricanes principally attacked the bombers, in addition to tackling the Emils. In the Luftwaffe’s case over-claiming by its pilots led to a serious underestimation of the RAF’s front-line strength, a situation exacerbated by an overall poor quality of intelligence gathering and analysis, effectively blinding some commanders in respect of the RAF’s actual capability. A yet more serious difficulty that proved decisive was the lack of a strategic vision or plan for the attack against Britain. The twin-engined aircraft available, carrying relatively light bomb-loads, could not bring consistent destructive mass to bear against decisive targets. The Luftwaffe had been developed to provide close battlefield support to the Wehrmacht, or German army, so successfully achieved during

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the Blitzkrieg, but this was nowhere near adequate against a determined RAF Fighter Command. Coupled with this was a serious misuse of Me109 fighters as Luftwaffe losses mounted – increasingly they were ordered to provide very close escort for bombers, and even the Me110 – a complete travesty of their intended roles and capability. Although it fought bravely, skilfully and with professional determination the Luftwaffe was neither equipped nor prepared for a sustained strategic air battle of this kind. In March 1941, their prowess was dismissed: ‘To his fury [Hitler] found that the immense German superiority in numbers in both of bombers and fighters did not avail when pitted against the better machines and more highly skilled pilots of the RAF . . . Savagely mauled, they withdrew from the battle’ [5, pp. 21–2].

Leaders of the Few A Fighter Command meeting on 17 October to discuss the use of Big Wings had severe repercussions for both Dowding and Park. Dowding – who had not been well treated by the Air Ministry throughout much of 1940 – was sacked on 25 November, and replaced by Air Vice-Marshal W. Sholto Douglas who was immediately promoted as the new head of Fighter Command. Noted two days before in the 23 November ILN, including photographs and brief captions for both men, of ‘Sir Hugh Dowding’ it simply reported: ‘Formerly Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Fighter Command, since July 1936, who at the special request of the Minister has been seconded to the Ministry of Aircraft Production for special duty in the U.S.A. was Director of Training, Air Ministry, 1926–29’ [515, p. 670]. The Aeroplane on 22 November included a photograph of Sholto Douglas and also confirmed that he would shortly be replacing Dowding, but made no other comments about the outgoing head of Fighter Command [491, p. 561]; its 27 December issue also briefly noted Sholto Douglas’s promotion, but offered nothing about Dowding [495, p. 737]. Indeed, around the time of his removal one searches in vain for any comment in The Aeroplane (a leading aviation journal) on Dowding’s successful tenure as the head of Fighter Command during the Battle. It was clearly a sensitive subject and one seemingly kept under tight control by the AM. Politically – and despite pleading no involvement to Dowding [158, p. 236] – Churchill was clearly implicated in succumbing to AM pressure for his removal, writing later that the decision was right, but ‘nearly broke his heart’ [227, p. 322]. He also wrote that he had yielded to AM pressure and had been wrong not to argue more strongly for Dowding’s position [307, p. 187]. Post-war, considerable attention has been devoted to explaining Dowding’s treatment, including by the senior officers and officials involved, his often difficult manner and seeming resistance to effective action against night attacks often cited as reasons [118, pp. 132–6; 137; 169, ch. 11; 177, ch. 5; 227, pp. 320–5; 239, pp. 135–8; 281,

62 The Good Fight

chs 10–11; 303, ch. 7; 357, chs 12–14]. Dowding finally retired from the RAF in July 1942, and in 1943 was created First Baron Dowding. Park fared little better after the Battle. Despite his ability and experience he was replaced by the ambitious Leigh-Mallory and relegated to a training role on 11 December. Ironically, it was only a week before on 5 December that Hitler had made it clear in a conference that all plans for Sea Lion had effectively been abandoned. In no small part thanks to Park’s careful husbanding of fighter assets, the fact that the RAF ‘had not been greatly weakened’ by the hard fighting of the previous few months was a crucial factor in his decision [258, p. 405]. The Aeroplane’s 20 December issue carried a brief tribute to him nine days after he was replaced: ‘Air Vice-Marshal K.R. Park, Officer Commanding the Fighter Group immediately responsible for the defence of London and the South-East, was received by The King on Dec. 10 and invested with the insignia of the C.B’ [494, p. 706]. It also confirmed that he had been in the role since May and flew a Hurricane to Dunkirk during the evacuation. In his 1941 despatch Dowding paid sincere tribute to his skill, but made no mention of Park’s fellow Group Commanders [29, para. 128, p. 4551]. Park was later acknowledged for his leadership from July 1942 onwards of the air defences and fighter offensives from Malta, but also for his role during 1940: ‘Air Vice-Marshal Sir Keith Park . . . had had experience of fighting the Luftwaffe in the Battle of Britain when he commanded one of the most active fighter groups’ [73*, p. 74]. Hardly a resounding tribute to Park’s crucial contribution during the Battle, it was at least preferable to being entirely ignored as he had been in the 1941 AM pamphlet on the Battle [93]. Park finished the war as an Air Chief Marshal having further distinguished himself in South East Asia after leaving Malta, and having yet again, proved himself an outstanding fighter-leader. Contrasting starkly with the promotions and accolades heaped upon senior Luftwaffe commanders on 19 July after their victories over Poland and France, even Hitler and Goering would have agreed that the sacking first of Dowding, and then Park, was a strange way indeed to pay tribute to the two most important commanders in Fighter Command. But the RAF’s glorious success was perhaps reward enough for the two RAF commanders. Strategic significance There is little dispute that the Battle was a crucial moment for the British, and that the Few’s success – discussed in the introduction – was a key factor in obstructing Hitler’s invasion plans. This has been well documented since the war ended [190, pp. 148–64, 238–59, 298–309; 195, pp. 133–94; 244, pp. 81– 96, 114–32, 222–34, 254–62; 285, pp. 267–80; 312, pp. 203–63; 340, ch. 6]. Surprisingly given the coverage, this was less clear at the time. Novelist and writer Marjery Allingham reflected that: ‘the war did not present itself in quite the same order as it came in actual fact. For instance, the Battle of Britain did not

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appear to us to coincide with the worst shock of the invasion threat’ [1, p. 222]. George Orwell in writing about Soviet military success on 14 March 1942 said: ‘I think the Russians have merely won the kind of victory that we did in the Battle of Britain – i.e. staving off defeat for the time being but deciding nothing’ [282, pp. 410–11]. In similar vein, Overy agrees that the Battle by itself did not decide the outcome of the war [284, p. 134]. However, in writing about the RAF’s success against the Luftwaffe, John Keegan affirms that the Battle’s outcome ensured Britain’s survival as an independent nation, its key legacy being the opportunity it gave later in the war to defeat Germany [242, p. 81]. Overy agrees with Keegan, the British victory allowing America to enter Europe, but without which there was little prospect that Britain could defeat Hitler [284, p. 132]. Likewise, the Battle represented Germany’s first defeat and also confirmed that resistance was not pointless, thereby offering hope to millions believes Bungay [142, p. 388]. Considered in Chapter 11, the Battle historiography reflects these views, only the more recent revisionism discussed in the introduction seeking to cast the events in a less significant light.

3 Arise to Conquer

RAF pilots’ combat experiences and morale Warrior-leaders and morale A high state of morale amongst the fighter squadrons was essential to continuing success as the fighting progressed, propaganda an aspect of sustenance. The RAF’s pilots were part of wider society, and had access to the same newspapers, magazines, broadcasts and newsreels. What they read, saw and heard was a powerful and fair tribute to their prowess. They themselves knew what it took both mentally and physically to engage large formations of enemy aircraft, and that they and colleagues were holding firm. There is no doubt that the high aircraft claims made by the pilots were important for RAF morale – both in the air and on the ground – and that they were largely believed as accurate. To a large extent, good morale relied upon the effective management of stress, fatigue, group cohesion, professionalism and the close relationships essential within squadrons. RAF fighter-leader Flight Lieutenant Bob Stanford Tuck, writing in 1965 confirmed that on the basis of his experience fighter combat required preparation, teamwork, fast reactions and excellent leadership. Likening it to a cat and mouse game, he argued that cold, calculating determination was essential [323, p. 4]. ‘Situational awareness’ was equally essential for survival, aces possessing it to a perhaps more developed state than other pilots [330]. Pilots’ faith in the fighting capabilities of the Spitfire and Hurricanes were crucial, as reinforced in a section of Spaight’s May 1941 book. He confirmed, ‘Our own fighter pilots can take the air in the firm assurance that their machines are better than the enemy’s. That feeling cannot but have a heartening effect upon morale’ [88, p. 82]. Official and public support and tributes undoubtedly helped to sustain an effective fighting spirit, where the effect when contrasted with the somewhat light-hearted pre-war disparagement of the ‘long haired boys’ [45, ch. 8] must have been electric. Tributes to the Few are considered below. 64

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Sustaining high morale – a key factor in the Few’s success – was vital, and could be attributed to effective leadership, discipline, comradeship and selfrespect. Such qualities were essential to fighter pilots’ ability to courageously face danger and endure fatigue in the face of sustained hardship. Not the same as mental toughness – although both were essential – high morale was the more powerful attribute. Modern RAF doctrine is clear that morale – a mental state – is essential to operational efficiency and sensitive to material conditions. Clear aims, training and leadership are vital aspects of combat efficiency it confirms, success a key factor [290, p. 1.2.10]. The Few benefited from all of these, buoyed by a clear sense of the moral rightness of their cause – crucially, a view shared by the British public. Effective fighter-leaders were crucial to success. For successful engagements they were required to locate a disciplined formation of small fighters in a tactically advantageous position, the aim to shoot down as many of the enemy as possible, at minimum risk – all in a very large area of sky. Historically, leadership has always been acknowledged as a pivotal dynamic of military effectiveness. The RAF’s system of squadron organisation into flights and sections, with their own leaders, was an important contributor to operational efficiency. Initially led by experienced squadron and flight commanders, losses of usually prewar pilots inevitably took their toll. Wells, in assessing the strategic bombing offensive, considered the primacy of such leadership to be critical in the sustenance of morale, where courage was far more important than exhortation or rhetoric [350, p. 138, ch. 6]. The fighter pilots’ war clearly posed different issues to bomber crews, and it would be misleading to read too much into Wells’ view in that context. However, RAF fighter pilots were aware of the risks involved, yet still responded to effective leadership against heavy odds. Wells is clear that those aircrew leaders who failed to show courage in action, or take tough decisions, lost credibility and might be ostracised [350, p. 138]. Squadron commanders leading their men into action, occasionally accompanied by the station commander, were similarly restorative presences. Bishop cites the example of the near-legendary Wing Commander Victor Beamish, commander of North Weald airfield in Essex who, despite a heavy leadership burden, resisted his desk and died in combat [124, pp. 324–5]. Park, head of Fighter Command’s 11 Group that bore the brunt of the fighting, was greatly respected by pilots for being prepared to fly his Hurricane into combat areas for the purposes of observation. Vincent Orange confirms that between 3 May and 24 November, Park flew his Hurricane on 61 occasions, averaging twice a week. His total hours for 1940 were 83, a remarkable number given the pressures of commanding a key Group [281, p. 119]. A vast majority of fighter pilots engaged in the air battles were either junior officers or senior NCOs, trained to work as part of a team; once battle was joined, however, it was often every man for himself despite efforts to work

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in ‘vics’ with wingmen (Plate 10). Part of the RAF’s rationale for the selection of its fighter pilots was the possession of individual grit and drive, coupled with a willingness to take calculated risks in combat. This relied upon aircrew intelligence, skill, will power and an ability to endure sustained hardship [350, p. 47]. The focus upon selecting only the best bore fruit during the Battle, as did the extensive pre-war efforts to organise the RAF’s ability to ensure an adequate service organisation [232]. Air fighting − the pilots’ experience To be scrambled perhaps four or five times a day for patrol durations of up to an hour or so, at heights of 15,000 feet and above, was draining even without combat taking place (Plate 5). ‘We did five sorties a day. We never stopped – we just went’ recalled Flying Officer Tony Bartley, confirming many pilots’ engagement [115, p. 77]. Squadron Leader Bob Stanford Tuck’s flying log graphically shows that during the four months from July to October he logged 128 hours of flying in Spitfires and Hurricanes with 92 and 257 Squadrons. Much of this time was on fighter patrols, at indicated heights of between 15,000 and 30,000 feet, patrols lasting from ten minutes to one and a half hours [331]. Add to this the highly demanding experience of a sometimes handful of fighters attacking large formations of 100-plus Luftwaffe bombers, with a protective screen of Me109 fighters, and exhaustion and stress were the inevitable, cumulative outcomes. An indication of the scale of RAF activity was revealed in The Times on 4 September, where it was recorded that some 17,000,000 miles had been flown during the previous year, August a record month for Fighter Command [529, p. 2, col. d]. Dogfighting was a vicious and unpredictable business. Wells’ assessment of both fighter-to-fighter and fighter-to-bomber combats is valuable for the psychological and physical toll these took both of RAF and Luftwaffe aircrews [350, pp. 36–43]. Pilots’ flying skills were severely tested, many aircraft shot down by unseen foes, and far less frequently by friendly fire. Advice from the First World War’s pilots such as ‘beware the Hun in the sun’ remained salient despite interwar doctrinal theory seemingly eschewing such experiences. Dogged determination, bravery and skill alone would not insulate even the most successful fighter aces from the progressively wearying and corrosive effects of such engagements – high morale was the key factor. It was additionally a morally taxing act to take another human’s life, and even more so a bomber’s crew of four or five, from which no parachutes emerged after shooting it down. Learning to hunt was reminiscent of peregrine falcons teaching newly fledged offspring to pursue prey, stealth, surprise and speed essential [514, p. 638]. Michael Spick cites the efforts of German ace Werner M¨ olders in training his young pilots to kill, the shock of which – in addition to avoiding being killed – could be traumatic [330, p. 97]. RAF pilot-author Flying

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Officer Richard Hillary thought deeply about the moral aspects of his ‘kills’, seeking to place them in a wider context: ‘The fighter pilot’s emotions are those of the duellist – cool, precise, impersonal. He is privileged to kill well . . . Death should be given the setting it deserves; it should never be a pettiness; and for the fighter pilot it never can be’ [45, p. 97]. Many post-war pilots’ memoirs contain reflections on killing, but Hillary’s – written fairly soon after his experiences – was striking for its timely eloquence. Weather conditions were also vital to combat effectiveness and survival, the summer of 1940 a particularly fine one as H.E. Bates recalled: ‘it is true to say that almost all the weather of 1940 and 1941 has been phenomenal . . . the miraculous long, temperate summer of 1940’ [15, p. 95]. Allingham felt similarly: ‘It was golden, glorious weather and the world hummed with planes all day like bees in a lime tree’ [1, p. 228]. For most, sunny weather would be a morale booster, but its impact upon RAF fighter pilots could be oppressive. Clear skies at first light meant being at operational readiness during the early morning, a state that could continue until dusk. Pilot Officer Geoffrey Page noted that good morale was sustained throughout the Battle despite having to fly and fight many times a day. He recalled that they would fly out to their forward base just before Dawn, only returning as light began to fade [115, p. 83]. Pilot Officer Geoffrey Wellum also gives an evocative account of dawn readiness and sorties, recalling the morning dew spray as the rush of air blew it from Spitfire wings during takeoff, or in the early light, how copper-coloured the fighters appeared [351, ch. 4]. Daily weather conditions are also given by Hough & Richards revealing many ‘fine’ days during September [227, appx. 1]. Peter Brown (a Flying Officer during the Battle) similarly describes the impact of weather conditions upon daily operations, where in contrast to wartime accounts he confirms that only 43 out of 114 days of the official period were fine, and the remainder either mixed or poor [137, p. 85]. Flying Officer Harold Bird-Wilson confirmed that the pilots prayed hard for bad weather, but despite this it was often beautifully sunny with clear blue skies [115, p. 87]. Cloud and poor visibility conferred advantages to those best placed to exploit them. Luftwaffe pilot Gunther Rall recalled the RAF’s approach during one of his fighter operations escorting bombers over Britain, where the Spitfires made good use of the poor weather and dropped from above onto their formations, resulting in many losses [115, pp. 79–80]. The same advantages accrued to the Luftwaffe – he who had the height controlled the battle. Hazards If unlucky enough to be shot down, even having escaped death by parachuting from a blazing aircraft the risks were not over. A pilot might parachute into the Channel unharmed, but its cold, choppy waters could kill within a few hours [142, p. 303]. Putting the risks into context, even as early as the end of June

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the RAF had lost over 200 aircrew in the Channel, prompting strident efforts to develop a co-ordinated air–sea rescue system using Lysander aircraft, RAF and RN surface craft, and RNLI rescue vessels [227, pp. 134–5; 336, ch. 2]. Even when spotted by rescuers the dangers might not be over, some boat crews determined to confirm the identities of downed fliers beforehand. RAF pilots certainly felt menaced on occasion until they had established their bona fides to such crews [115, pp. 81–2]. Even reaching dry land could be dangerous; the Telegraph reporting on the hazards of mistaken identity when shot down: ‘A British pilot who baled out of his crippled fighter during a dogfight with German bombers . . . was mistaken for a Nazi airman by a small group of angry civilians, and narrowly escaped manhandling’ [423, p. 1, col. 5]. RAF aircrew whose first language was not English were at particular risk, in some instances even where they provided identification. So acute did the problem become that The Times carried an article on 4 October entitled ‘When a parachutist lands – Telling friend from foe’ [553, p. 2, col. b]. Such were the hazards of fighting in the air war that even the only RAF fighter pilot to be awarded the VC, Flight Lieutenant John Nicolson was shot by a member of the Home Guard as he descended wounded on a parachute after a ferocious dogfight in which he was badly burnt. Under such circumstances even the award of a VC was perhaps scant reward, but Nicolson, in the company of many others, came through Britain’s adulation to epitomise the true grit of the (modest) warrior-hero pilot (and later reinforced in media interviews). As to the consequences of air combat failure, seeing one’s friends killed, buried, injured, maimed or burned – or perhaps killed whilst hanging from a parachute, as on occasion occurred and engendered a previously absent vindictive hatred [227, p. 231] – had a profound impact, not least because the same fate could easily befall anyone fighting under such conditions. Pilots’ private comments in letters to wives, sweethearts and family members were a true barometer of morale amongst combatants. These confirmed not only the immediacy of combat, but also the youthfulness of pilots, some still teenagers [314, pp. 138–60]. Although often downplayed, the impact of combat fatigue and loss was unavoidable: post-traumatic stress disorder is now broadly accepted as an outcome of sustained exposure to severe stress, its effects not apparent until some time after the events have occurred. Wells reflected on the later Allied strategic bombing campaign that fighter pilots evinced fewer emotional problems than bomber colleagues, despite sometimes higher losses [350, p. 67]. However, for those no longer able or willing to fight, the RAF’s medical branch was not sympathetic; ‘LMF’ was a ‘character stain’ avoided by all but the very desperate [124, pp. 336–9; 350, chs 3, 8]. Harold Balfour, as Parliamentary UnderSecretary of State for Air, found making decisions about LMF a difficult and uncomfortable aspect of his senior role [118, pp. 195–7]. For those determined

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to stay fighting, it nevertheless became an internal struggle to sustain combat motivation and effectiveness, whilst dealing with the entirely normal impact of fear, day after day, week after week. Unwinding Consistent hazards and experiences inevitably took their toll of fighter pilots’ effectiveness. Following a day’s hard fighting the local pub provided perhaps the best opportunity for relaxing, where the positive effect of beer, singing, appreciative locals, girlfriends and horseplay allowed for some unwinding [326, pp. 42–5, 74–90]. Spitfire pilot Sergeant William Rolls, going to collect a colleague who had been shot down, recounted one experience in a pub in the East End, following the first massed daylight attack on London during 7 September where they were the centre of interest and appreciation. Kissed by women and patted on the back by men, praise was so effusive that both were deeply moved and almost in tears [313, pp. 57–8]. Confirming something of the celebrity surrounding the ‘fighter boys’, Rolls recalled that they were the objects of curiosity to many, a reaction that was relaxed once they had established themselves as ordinary men [313, pp. 58–9]. Despite, or perhaps because of this, the ‘fighter boys’ became increasingly attractive to women, where an RAF uniform and pilot’s wings enhanced the prospects for sex [124, p. 341]. The RAF’s system for providing leave for pilots allowed time to escape from front-line action. Officers were entitled to 61 days of leave per year, pilot NCOs, 65 days, but opportunities were few. Free travel allowed pilots to return home for a time, sometimes to be feted as heroes by their local town. A 48-hour pass allowed pilots to visit London and unwind in restaurants, theatres, music halls, clubs and pubs. Everyone understood how vital leave was, the Reynolds Tube Co Ltd even placing a full-page advertisement in The Aeroplane in which an appeal was made to its civilian readership to offer car or taxi lifts, cigarettes and other assistance to members of the RAF on leave: ‘help him make THE MOST of Forty-eight hours’; and ‘Reynolds . . . ask you to be VERY GENEROUS in practical response’ [495, f.p. 745]. Something of the RAF’s stature by the end of 1940 was reflected in a full-page advertisement placed in the same edition by the Bristol Aeroplane Co Ltd. It read, ‘May success attend the efforts of all Officers and Men of our gallant Royal Air Force until victory crowns their record of valiant deeds’ [495, rear-page]. Pilots’ wives and girlfriends too were an important source of support and encouragement, and themselves needed to believe that sacrifices in air combats were worth the price being paid. For them, the realities of war were ever present. Squadron Leader Peter Townsend recalled the bittersweet celebrations following Dunkirk in the Mess at Digby, where as pilots returned from combat they joined the party. A few pilots did not return, their wives or girlfriends departing quietly and without fuss, showing the same courage and backbone as their husbands

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[343, p. 272]. The consequences of severe burns from aircraft fuel-tank fires (the Hurricane a particular risk) left many pilots severely disfigured [45; 74, pp. 76– 105; 264; 317, chs 11–13]. For girlfriends who had perhaps only been ‘going steady’ a few months, it must have been an agonising dilemma to continue a relationship with a grievously scarred boyfriend. Some were not able to sustain it, but many others, to their great credit, did so. Ground support On the ground, the RAF’s sophisticated defensive system relied upon a vast support staff [66; 90; 108, ch. 11; 115, pp. 79, 85–7, 89, 95; 186, chs 12–14; 232]. Although it was the fighter pilots who Churchill had in mind when talking of the Few, ground crews were an essential element of RAF effectiveness; the Battle could not have been fought and won without them. The pilots were keenly aware of their importance, one writing that people outside the RAF did not ‘realise how dependent we are on our fitters, riggers, armourers, wireless operators, etc. for our ultimate success . . . They’re a fine set of chaps and I take my hat off to them’ [31, p. 172]. Churchill’s narrow focus upon the Few conferred no credit upon ‘the many’, that vast, supporting web of RAF ground staff and others directly working to keep the fighters airworthy. Post-war, he remedied the original acknowledgment [152, pp. 278–9]. In addition to ensuring that aircraft could take off and fight, ground crews were supportive to pilots, especially young, inexperienced replacements. Ground staff and crews needed to be sustained, especially when faced with direct danger in front-line stations. A novel about life as an anti-aircraft gunner on an RAF fighter station in the front line was based on the author’s experiences during the Battle [47]. RAF fighter airfields in 11 Group were especially prone to attacks by low-level strafing by German fighter aircraft. These became a particular problem at RAF Manston in Kent, where aircraft were able to fly undetected under the RDF screen. Flying Officer Alan Deere, a fighter ace with 54 Squadron, recalled the difficulties with some airmen at Manston, in one instance unwilling to leave the protection of an air raid shelter during a raid despite being threatened by an officer wielding a pistol [170, pp. 140–1]. Reflecting the controversy that can quickly be ignited, novelist Len Deighton claims of this event that hundreds of men stayed in the Manston shelters and refused to come out for days, despite the threats and efforts of their officers [171, p. 162]. Conversely, he pays tribute to the aircrews of 600 Squadron whose resilience and high morale was in stark contrast to what was happening around them, with the result that because ground staff refused to come out of the shelters, they serviced their aircraft themselves [171, pp. 162–3]. Former RAF officer Flight Lieutenant Rocky Stockman (not one of the Few), in his book about RAF Manston devotes a postscript to the ‘Manston Mutiny’, and argues that it was undeniable that there were brief problems with morale – vague hints are insufficient evidence upon which to

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form such a harsh judgement, he affirms [335, pp. 43–4]. More recent histories have absorbed the ‘mutiny’ as part of the Battle narrative [144, pp. 103–4; 242, p. 79]. Under such challenging conditions it was vital – as was overwhelmingly the case – for ground crews to hold their nerve in servicing fighter aircraft and assisting pilots. Although invariably highly valued and appreciated by ‘their’ pilots, ground crews were not eligible for awards comparable with the DFC and DFM, unless directly responsible for an act of witnessed personal bravery – of which there were many instances.

Luftwaffe morale and the Few A clear distinction can be drawn between propaganda ‘reach’ on the one hand and combat capability and impact on the other. Luftwaffe pilots could see for themselves that the RAF remained a potent force; it did not need British propaganda to confirm this. The RAF’s unwillingness to concede defeat – and air superiority to the Luftwaffe – was rapidly borne out by events following June, where the Luftwaffe were about to face the realities of seeking to defeat the world’s most powerful system of air defence. The Luftwaffe fighter ace Adolf Galland later agreed that it had proved impossible to defeat Britain’s air defences, the RAF’s determined attacks making it impossible to outwit the integrated system [200, p. 70]. Early confirmation for Galland had occurred in a skirmish on 24 July where he had been impressed by the outnumbered RAF’s tenacity and resolve, realising then that an easy victory was unlikely [116, p. 94]. Reichsmarchall Goering and his senior staff sought on a number of occasions to deny the potency of the RAF’s fighter defences but as Keegan suggests the opposing air forces were more or less equal in terms of resources and capability [242, p. 76]. RAF fighter pilots’ willingness to attack much larger enemy formations was a clear indicator of high morale, but had a negative impact upon the Luftwaffe, perhaps accustomed to or expecting faint-hearted defensive action. Large attacks were often met by the RAF, a source of some wonder in itself if the enemy thought such interceptions were down to standing patrols’ sheer ‘good luck’. Moreover, Luftwaffe bomber crews increasingly realised that they were the principal targets and not the escort fighters. Reports talked of seeing fierce RAF resistance, especially over or near the capital: RAF fighters on fire, but continuing their attacks (Flight Lieutenant Nicolson, VC); occasional ramming (Sergeant Holmes over Victoria Station); startling, almost suicidal high-speed dives through massed formations (many pilots); very close-quarter attacks in the face of sharp return fire (many RAF aces); and a speciality of the later Big Wings, massed head-on attacks in line abreast, the aim being to break up bomber formations. Such determined fighting was only possible where high levels of morale and leadership were sustained. The RAF fought with a strong sense of moral certainty that they were fully justified in their fight; this was

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not a view that more thoughtful Luftwaffe aircrews can have found so easy to sustain. Other hazards were regularly to be faced. The prospect of drowning in the dreaded Kanal threatened the onset of Kanalkrankheit, or Channel sickness, perhaps the Luftwaffe’s equivalent of the RAF’s ‘LMF’ [142, p. 303]. Luftwaffe aircrew recognised the dangers of coming down miles from shore, where rescuers’ attitudes might be strongly conditioned by propaganda and the impact of bombing; some Luftwaffe airmen may have been deliberately drowned – or left to fend for themselves – which amounts to the same thing. Luftwaffe air–sea rescue aircraft were used to pick up German (and British) aircrew downed in the Channel, which, adding to the hazards, the British government ordered the RAF to attack because they were believed to be gathering intelligence through reconnaissance sorties. The Times article, ‘German Red Cross aeroplanes – Immunity forfeited’ was typical of the media coverage [531, p. 4, col. e], such claims bitterly denied by Luftwaffe pilots after the war [244, pp. 183–4; 333, pp. 277–8]. Luftwaffe crews must have anticipated hostile reactions from British civilians who might feel inclined to take matters into their own hands should they bail out over land. Basil Woon reported one incident on 16 September where a Dornier pilot landing amongst a large crowd of angry women, narrowly avoided very serious injury from sticks, stones and other weapons, only being rescued by the police [102, p. 152]. Others were not so lucky. Deteriorating morale began to sap the Luftwaffe’s fighting spirit. Galland noted that the already strained Luftwaffe fighter arm’s failure to achieve any clear success over the RAF did little to sustain morale, a problem compounded by Goering’s belief that his fighter pilots lacked courage and determination [200, p. 73]. A growing list of complaints and anxieties were voiced by Luftwaffe aircrew about tactics, the number of sorties being flown, growing aircraft and aircrew losses, a lack of direction and the relentless, dogged omnipresence of ‘the Tommies’ [142, p. 303]. POWs showed signs of nervous strain and collapsing morale by the end of August [284, p. 83]. Ironically, little intelligence made its way to Britain from France, Holland and Belgium about the parlous state of German morale, the RAF basing its assessments of Luftwaffe attitudes and determination on POWs’ interrogations alone [227, pp. 236–7]. Galland noted the loss of comrades, concerns about the quality of the bombers and Stukas and also about the leadership [200, p. 73]. German propagandist output angered him, a point he discussed in a meeting with Hitler where he argued that German propaganda portrayals of the RAF were misguided and offensive, and strongly at odds with his own admiration for them [200, p. 86]. Churchill’s Few did not have it all their own way. Luftwaffe fighter pilots saw some RAF fighters avoiding combat, or seemingly unwilling to fight to the finish. Added to this were evidence of poor flying and shooting, and the folly of going into action in the ‘vic’ formations. And of course, the Luftwaffe accounted

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for almost a thousand RAF fighter aircraft, and appears to have achieved local air-superiority in some areas. But, despite these successes it is striking that the Luftwaffe’s morale began to fall away, representing the first failure of its air arm during the war [259, pp. 75–91]. Galland was moved to reflect of this reversal that Britain’s morale was sustained, its ire directed towards repelling the Nazis at all costs [200, p. 70]. The Few were central to that achievement.

Contemporary tributes to the Few King George VI Fighter Command’s impact through combat successes was immense, the opportunities for heroicisation seized upon by many national and foreign leaders. Aside from boosting the morale of the pilots themselves (not all of whom appreciated or welcomed the adulatory tributes), valuable propaganda was projected about their prowess. In Britain, both King George VI and Churchill repeatedly praised the fighter pilots, setting an important example to others through carefully worded speeches, broadcasts and messages of congratulation. This spirit permeated throughout government, the civil service and to the more modest levels of society. The King made a point of visiting fighter and bomber squadrons when he could, and of awarding medals – or ‘gongs’ – at RAF stations or Buckingham Palace. Personal visits and the awards of medals – not unreasonably with an eye for the valuable propaganda opportunities – were a must for the monarch. Visits by dignitaries were frequently attended by a large press contingent. For example, Flight Lieutenant Rom Landau recounted a visit to a Polish bomber station by Archibald Sinclair, accompanied by 24 journalists and an equal number of photographers. Despite this huge effort very little was actually published of the visit because of censorship controls [51, p. 106]. On 23 July, the King’s visit to award aircrews for their bravery was covered by the newsreels, one entitled ‘ ‘‘I’m proud of you’’ – in the air’; and also covered, for instance, by the Mirror [385, p. 7, col. c]. The air fighting developing in intensity, George VI issued congratulations to Fighter Command, as sent to Sinclair, Secretary of State for Air on 16 August: Please convey my warmest congratulations to the Fighter Squadrons who, in recent days, have been so heavily engaged in the defence of our country. I, like all their compatriots have read with ever-increasing admiration the story of their victory. I wish them continued success and good luck. George R.I. [588, p. 212] The following day a small, front-page text box entitled ‘The King to the RAF’ conveyed his message to millions of readers [405, p. 1]. Polish airmen having

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acquitted themselves with honour, The Times printed ‘Polish courage and tenacity – The King’s message’ [530, p. 9, col. c]. On 7 September it was reported that the King had visited Fighter Command’s HQ to study the air defences during an air raid [531, p. 4, col. a]. As Churchill had discovered in his many visits, observing the command and control system at first hand provided a sobering insight into the challenges faced in meeting large assaults. On 24 September the King made brief mention of the RAF: ‘the Air Force, whose exploits are the wonder of the world’ in a message to the British, that was heard in America [544, p. 4, col. f]. He visited Canadian and Polish fighter pilots at RAF Northolt on 26 September, that featured in newsreels on 3 October: The Times reported on the visit in ‘The King with the R.A.F. – Canadian squadron inspected’ [547, p. 4, col. e]. During a visit to see bombed areas in London, the King and Queen were rewarded with the sight of an air battle over the capital, RAF fighters chasing a bomber formation [548, p. 2, col. d]. Churchill and the Few Churchill was deeply impressed by the fighter pilots’ courage and prowess. His contact with front-line squadrons amounted to five or six visits to fighter bases during the Battle itself, based upon private secretaries’ diary entries [228, p. 179]. Churchill was Honorary Air Commodore of 615 Squadron (AAF) at Kenley, and visited his ‘fighter boys’ when he could. Despite not achieving his flying licence in 1919, and certainly not as part of an RAF programme [236, pp. 349–50], Churchill took to wearing RAF ‘wings’ during the war [372, p. 5, col. d] but not, it seems, before September 1941 when he was photographed in his RAF uniform without them at RAF Manston [209, pl. 39]. Cuthbert Orde later painted Churchill with his wings. It was a harmless conceit, the propaganda advantages of Britain’s military leader being seen as a qualified RAF pilot arguably outweighing other considerations. Keen to see the development of the Battle at close hand, Churchill visited Bentley Priory on four occasions, and Uxbridge, on five. He was able to discuss progress with both Dowding and Park, both of whom were invited on occasion to Chequers for dinner. Such visits provided inspiration for Churchill’s oratory, and the air fighting was very much in his mind during July and August. His Private Secretaries recorded Churchill’s appreciation for the RAF on several occasions, John Colville noting privately made comments about the RAF’s successes in his diary. Perhaps prematurely given what was to come, on 16 July the Premier was ecstatic in a telephone conversation with Beaverbrook: ‘I feel better. The air boys have done it. We live on their wings’ [160, pp. 230–1]. As the Battle unfolded in July, the RAF’s defensive actions came increasingly to the fore in the absence of other news; Churchill’s ‘The war of the unknown warriors’ speech broadcast by the BBC noted an excellent week for Fighter

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Command (14 July 1940) [20, pp. 247–51]. Despite the value of the wireless for mass communication, Churchill gave only three significant BBC broadcasts with references to the RAF, but they featured regularly in related, shorter transmissions. His Commons speeches, of which there were four that included commentary on the RAF, were not broadcast ‘live’, but were rerecorded and transmitted later, or published by the press. Curiously, Parliament would not grant permission for his speeches to be broadcast [206, p. 38]. Following a large gap between his first speech on 14 July and that on 20 August – doubtless because of the pressing needs of Prime Ministerial office – he was able to report fairly regularly on the air war thereafter. His ‘The war situation’ speech of 20 August has proved to be a key and enduring propaganda moment of the Battle, including as it did his famous tribute: ‘Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.’ Churchill managed in these few words to exquisitely capture the feelings of perhaps millions as the Battle intensified. The Battle of Britain described the moment in ‘The Scene is Set’: ‘On Tuesday, 20th August, 1940, at 3.52 in the afternoon, the Prime Minister gave the House of Commons one of those periodic reviews on the progress of the war . . . The occasion was grave’ [93, p. 3]. Churchill’s lengthy address ranged across many pressing issues at that time: France’s collapse, distant battlefields, American aid including the 50 destroyers and Britain’s resolution in resisting Hitler. The RN, Army, home front and industry were also noted as important in the struggle. Reprinted in Into Battle, the whole speech occupied 11 pages [20, pp. 252– 62]. His quite modest focus upon the RAF began at the bottom of the fifth page, and continued for the next two pages [20, pp. 257–9]. Hitler’s claims for the numbers of RAF aircraft shot down were disputed, as was the belief that Britain faced imminent defeat. The RAF’s defensive superiority against heavy odds was confirmed, as was the vital network of support in replacing aircraft and other resources. In charting this course, Churchill was principally referring to Fighter Command’s successes, rather than those of the bombers [20, p. 258]. The speech’s key paragraph about the air fighting appeared on its eighth page and contained just four lengthy sentences, within 18 lines of print. This paragraph is the most direct and sustained in its praise of the RAF’s exploits where it reached a crescendo as Churchill ranged across the broad spectrum of the air fighting: The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the world war by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. All hearts go out to the fighter pilots,

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whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day; but we must never forget that all the time, night after night, month after month, our bomber squadrons travel far into Germany, find their targets in the darkness by the highest navigational skill, aim their attacks, often under the heaviest fire, often with serious loss, with deliberate careful discrimination, and inflict shattering blows upon the whole of the technical and war-making structure of the Nazi power. On no part of the Royal Air Force does the weight of the war more heavily than on the daylight bombers who will play an invaluable part in the case of invasion and whose unflinching zeal it has been necessary in the meanwhile on numerous occasions to restrain. [20, p. 259] Churchill’s original speech script as delivered, read slightly differently from the later version, above, with two small corrections (Plate 6) [641]. The original text confirms his preference for setting out the lines almost as a psalm, so as to improve his spoken delivery. In isolation the key sentence about the Few lent itself easily to the adulatory purpose for which it has been subsequently used, but at first reading was rather buried in the text. Colville confirmed that on listening to the speech at the time, it did not strike him forcibly. Its delivery was inauspicious: he reflected that as a whole the speech lacked the usual oratory and seemed to drag, the heat making the packed House languid [160, p. 267]. However, a report in the Manchester Guardian on 21 August noted ‘prolonged cheers’ immediately following the key sentence about the Few – The Times reported ‘renewed cheers’ [523, p. 2, col. d]. Artist Terence Cuneo similarly captured Churchill being wildly applauded having just sat down following the speech, this time in oil paint [214, p. 130]. Churchill appeared pleased enough with his performance; returning from the Commons by car, he offered its hapless occupants an out of tune rendering of Ole Man River [160, p. 267]. The sentence has proved to be of similar propaganda importance to The Battle of Britain [93]. In common with several other phrases it epitomised Churchill’s extraordinary gift for timely oratory. Copiously reprinted and recited, it is the most immediately identifiable and pithy summation of the RAF’s prowess. But whom exactly did Churchill have in mind when he spoke of the Few? John Colville provided a strong clue in his diary entry for 11 August, nine days before he delivered the speech. Churchill had invited Colville to talk with him as he undressed for bed that night, where: ‘He expatiated on the debt we owed to our airmen and claimed the life of the country depended on their intrepid spirit.’ Colville continued: ‘What a slender thread, he [Churchill] exclaimed, his voice tremulous with emotion, the greatest of things can hang by!’ [160, p. 259]. It is clear from Colville’s recording of RAF claims for some 70 enemy aircraft down that Churchill was aware of the fighter pilots’ successes that day. Churchill, consumed with excitement, also visited Fighter Command’s HQ on 15 August,

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in response to high RAF claims – he was ecstatic about the day’s results [160, p. 263]. Doubtless stirred by this and other recent RAF triumphs, Churchill’s exact phrase can be dated to 16 August [209, p. 736], as Major-General Ismay, the head of his Defence Office recalled, The Operations Room of No. 11 Group, Fighter Command, was Churchill’s favourite port of call at this period . . . The sequel to a visit in mid-August must be told. There had been heavy fighting throughout the afternoon; and at one moment every single squadron in the Group was engaged . . . As the evening closed in . . . we left by car for Chequers. Churchill’s first words were: ‘Don’t speak to me; I have never been so moved.’ After about five minutes he leaned forward and said, ‘Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.’ The words burned into my brain. Churchill, too, had evidently photographed them in his mind; for, as everyone knows, he used them in a speech that was heard throughout the world. [228, pp. 179–80] Whilst Churchill would have kept abreast of the RAF bomber attacks against enemy targets, it is reasonable to argue that a few days after Goering’s Adler Tag and the large escalation in Luftwaffe attacks, his primary focus was upon the fighter pilots. Alfred Price confirms that at Chequers on 18 August – a crucial day of intense air battles and heavy losses – Churchill was busy with the speech [297, p. 31]. The following day at Downing Street, Colville read the first edition and commented on Churchill’s method: ‘It is curious to see how, as it were, he fertilises a phrase or a line of poetry for weeks and then gives birth to it in a speech!’ [160, p. 266]. Ronald Walker writing in late 1940 was clear in his chapter introduction about who were meant; having repeated Churchill’s phrase he wrote that a great deal had justifiably been said about the fighter pilots [98, p. 87]. Although Churchill clearly highlighted the achievements of both Fighter and Bomber Command, the specific epitaph to ‘the Few’ in The Battle of Britain was a tribute to the fighter pilots [93, p. 3]. David Garnett, whose War in the Air took the reader to May 1941, was clear about what in the view of many was owed to the fighter pilots [35, p. 125]. Group Captain Helmore broadcasting on 6 November 1941 misquoted the phrase but was clear about its intention: ‘In the Prime Minister’s famous phrase about our pilots ‘‘so many already owe so much to so few,’’ but behind those ‘‘few’’ of the Battle of Britain’ [42, p. 30]. Overy agrees that this phrase was directed at the fighter pilots, but the bulk of this paragraph was focused upon the bomber boys where Fighter Command warranted six lines, Bomber Command, 21 [284, p. 82]. Churchill’s original psalm form speech actually gives five lines to the fighter pilots (Plate 6). Alfred Price, a military historian, confirms the accepted usage in saying that to Churchill the fighter

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pilots may have been the Few [297, p. 60]. Flight Lieutenant Peter O’Brian accepted the tribute to the Few, but commented in 2007: ‘I considered myself one of the many, not one of the few. To me, the few were the casualties and the leaders who took replacements pilots such as myself under their wing’ [429*, p. 29]. However, some contemporary writers believed that aircrews from all operational Commands were included. November’s publication of The R.A.F. in Action affirmed the role of fighters and bombers: ‘It is hoped that the book may serve as an introduction for the many to the few to whom they owe so much – the New Elizabethans who have thrown back the enemy’s air armada, harried his invasion bases, and raided deep into his own country’ [101, p. 5]. Spaight, an expert on air power, confirmed in his May 1941 book that, ‘The paladins, the young men, the ‘‘few’’ of whom Mr. Churchill spoke, the few to whom so much is owed by so many . . . the men who man the fighter, bomber and coastal squadrons’ [88, p. 54]. On this point it is noteworthy that Bomber Command had yet to strike at Berlin, its first attack occurring five days later on 25/26 August, and which was to have a significant impact upon the direction of the Battle. Prior to this its attacks had been principally against German airfields and industrial targets, with some sea sweeps and minelaying. It is hard to see at this early point that Bomber Command’s undoubtedly heroic attacks had resulted in clear, tangible outcomes – also capable of being propagandised – comparable to that of the fighter squadrons. Despite this, David Reynolds is convinced that Churchill embraced all airmen in his tribute, and did not refer solely to the fighter pilots. He draws attention to the later appropriation of the sentence for the Battle of Britain pamphlet (but published only seven months later; and it is not used in the AM’s Bomber Command equivalent despite mentions both of the Battle and Fighter Command [92]), Churchill’s use of the term for the fighter pilots in his 13 May 1945 victory speech (13 May 1945) [631] and his willingness to accept this in Their Finest Hour [307, pp. 186–7]. In that volume there was no ambiguity in the linking of his panegyric with the fighter pilots: ‘At the summit the stamina and valour of our fighter pilots remained unconquerable and supreme. Thus Britain was saved. Well might I say in the House of Commons: ‘‘Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few’’ ’ [152, p. 279]. Given the above it is fair to argue that Churchill principally had the fighter pilots in mind when he spoke of the Few, his speech only then moving on to consider Bomber Command’s achievements. As to antecedents for the phrase, J. Dover Wilson saw direct parallels with playwright William Shakespeare’s Henry V, arguing that both the Bard and Churchill drew inspiration from the same national source of inspiration [178, p. xxxi]. In Henry V [first performed in 1599] the Bard had pithily captured the sense of glory owed to a few gallant soldiers in ‘The fewer men the greater share of

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honour’ [Act IV, Scene III], and again in Henry’s celebrated eve of battle speech at Agincourt: We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me. Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition: And gentlemen in England now a-bed. Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not. And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks. That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day. [Act IV, Scene III] Laurence Olivier would later use this in his 1944 propaganda epic Henry V, Britain by that time in a very different situation to the perils of 1940. Churchill was keenly aware of the symbolic power of the few seen to be defeating the many, but despite the obvious linkage to Shakespeare, J.H. Walter argues that the phrase’s roots went beyond the Bard to Edward Hall, the sixteenth century chronicler and historian who concluded his account of Henry V [Chronicle first published in 1542, the second edition, 1548] thus: yet neither fyre, rust, nor frettying time shall amongst Englishmen ether appal his honoure or obliterate his glorye whiche in so fewe yeres and brief dais achived so high adventures and made so great a conquest. [344, p. xxvii] But it was not only Hall that the Bard drew upon; Shakespeare also used Raphael Holinshed’s Chronicles when crafting his plays [first published in 1577]. Hall had directly influenced Holinshed when the latter wrote his Henry V, Henry’s eve of battle rhetoric later used by Shakespeare [probably the 1587 edition]. Holinshed’s pre-battle passage was partly as follows, one member of Henry’s entourage saying to another: ‘I would to God there were with vs now so manie good soldiers as are at this houre within England!’ the king answered: ‘I would not wish a man more here than I haue; we are indeed in comparison to the enemies but a few, but if God of his clemencie doo fauour vs, and our just cause . . . we shall speed well inough . . . And if so be that for our offenses sakes we shall be deliuered into the hands of our enemies, the lesse number we be, the lesse damage shall the realme of England susteine . . . But be you of good comfort, and shew your selues valiant! God and our just quarrel shall defend vs, and deliuer these our proud aduersaries with all the multitude of them which you see . . . into our hands.’ [276*, pp. 81–2]

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There is clear narrative continuity from Hall to Holinshed, thence to Shakespeare, and finally to Churchill. All four captured the key elements of valour, and the few prevailing against the many. Churchill’s genius was in so powerfully and directly deploying his phrase to capture the essence of a vital moment in Britain’s history, rather than writing retrospectively about events long since past. Irrespective of Churchill’s specific sources and inspiration, Reynolds notes that the word pattern in the ‘to so few’ sentence is evident in some five speeches or writings produced by him between 1899 and 1910, some three decades before his 20 August speech [307, p. 181]. Furthermore, Sheila Lawlor confirms that Churchill owed much both to Baldwin and Chamberlain for their own evocations of the past as part of their approach to governance, from which he had learned [249, p. 87]. Churchill was not alone in making use of Shakespeare’s resonant prose, and may have been reminded of his ‘happy few’ by King George VI. Writing in June, Marjery Allingham recorded that, The King made a speech on the air one night, a very fine, sincere and simple one which crystallised the moment . . . There was more than a touch of the address before Agincourt in the air, a secret satisfaction that if it was coming we were to be the chosen, we few, we happy few, and all the other happy few round the coast of an impregnable island . . . It was big enough and sound enough to fill you, and if it went to your head a bit the luckier you. [1, pp. 198–9] Duff Cooper’s broadcast on 17 August also captured the exact essence – if less pithily – of Churchill’s famous words, but it is difficult to gauge whether they arrived independently at the same view of the pilots’ valour, or one benefited from awareness of the other’s assessment through a process of cross-fertilisation. Duff Cooper affirmed that, While we contemplate these great battles of the skies and while we calmly defy the attacks that can be made upon us, how can we express adequately in words the deep debt of gratitude we owe to those young heroes who, flying between heaven and earth by day and night, with short hours of repose, are saving not only the British Commonwealth of Nations from destruction, but are fighting also for the cause of truth and freedom against the powers of darkness and evil? [522, p. 2, col. e] Churchill’s visit to Uxbridge on 16 August is certainly the key date for the exact coining of his phrase, but it is possible that the Prime Minister had seen a draft of Duff Cooper’s speech beforehand. After all, it was broadcast the following night and must have been in an advanced state of completion, subject to tweaks and

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late additions. Duff Cooper, whilst aware of the air battles, appeared not to have been so intimately involved with the RAF and is unlikely to have appropriated Churchill’s high praise for the Few in a broadcast to millions of listeners. Churchill may have been motivated by other considerations too, Nicholas Cull noting that by late August the RAF’s heroism was an important propaganda asset, the FO urging Churchill to pay tribute to their valour in his next BBC broadcast to America [167, p. 91]. Whatever its specific origins, both Churchill’s speech and valediction were widely projected to an international audience, immediately elevating the Few’s achievement to iconic status. Sheean confirmed that ‘the phrase made the rounds of the world, for it was the truth’ [84, p. 205]. ‘The few saving the many’ is now entirely associated with Churchill. His Private Secretary John Martin recollects about the epigraph that when first published they inspired many and reflected national resolve, but that later parodies tended to cheapen their effect. Many pilots joked that Churchill must have been thinking of their Mess bills [260, p. 17]. Harold Nicolson made a brief reference to the sentence in his diary [277, p. 256]. Perry, avid for any news of the RAF’s exploits, wrote in his diary on 21 August that he had carefully studied Churchill’s speech and agreed fully with its wisdom [292, p. 75]. Despite noting several themes in the speech he made no reference to the sentence. Richard Brown, a diarist, similarly made no mention of the sentence despite reading a newspaper account of it [138, p. 59]. M-O diarist Christopher Tomlin simply recorded of it in his diary on 21 August: ‘Mr Churchill’s speech was pessimistic . . . This is the first time a statesman faced reality and tried to tell the truth. It is an encouragement to me’ [202, p. 342]. Lady Bonham Carter wrote to Churchill on 10 September, saying of the phrase that it would, in essence, be remembered for all time, his majestic phrase exactly capturing the mood of a critical event in history [209, p. 742]. His phrase was widely published as part of the wider speech in newspapers and magazines, broadly affirming the role of the fighter pilots simply because they were most frequently in the news. Examples of coverage during the days following 20 August included an article on the Mirror’s front page: ‘Premier tells’ [408, p. 1]; inside the same issue it was used in a brief text box [408, p. 3, col. c]; The Times reprinted the speech [523, p. 2], and also in a lengthy article entitled ‘The road to victory – Mr. Churchill’s survey of the war – Glowing tribute to the R.A.F. – Tribute to airmen’ [523, p. 4, col. a]. The phrase was accurately recounted in an advert captioned: ‘You can back up our airmen’, for National War Bonds, Saving certificates and Defence bonds [409, p. 10, col. a]. A cartoon whose derivation is not certain but was probably published in a tabloid newspaper, showed an RAF pilot clutching a Spitfire. Riding in a chariot, its wheels RAF roundels, he was in the clouds with a city beneath. The caption read ‘Horatius of the skies – Never was so much owed by so many to so few – The Prime Minister.’

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Slightly later, Flight provided some details of it including the key sentence, but gave the speech’s date as 21 August [431, p. 161]. On 30 August War Illustrated carried extracts from the speech, including the section concerning the RAF. The introductory text for the page confirmed the address’s primacy: ‘Mr Churchill’s most inspiring survey of our position after a year of war, given to Parliament on August 20, impressed the whole non-Axis world’ [588, p. 215]. In its review of the first year of the war, the Telegraph misquoted the phrase but agreed with Churchill’s view about the RAF in saying, ‘the splendid eulogy recently pronounced upon it by the Prime Minister when he said that ‘‘never in the history of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few’’ ’ [424, p. 4, col. f]. Picture Post also misquoted Churchill in a brief tribute to the RAF with ‘Never was so much owed by so many to so few’, the same wording on the AM poster featuring RAF aircrew (Plate 7) [446, p. 32]. On 1 November War Illustrated’s centre pages included Churchill’s full ‘to so few’ sentence as an epigraph along the top border, above a large photograph of two squadrons of Hurricanes at high altitude. Along the bottom border the key sentences concerning the RAF were reprinted from the 20 August speech [595, pp. 402–3]. Also on 1 November in the same magazine, photographs of pilots were reinforced with the title ‘Some of the few to whom we owe so much’ [595, p. 464]. Extracts from the speech were not released as a recording perhaps because of the contextual difficulties created by a limited playing time, and of separating out the aspects addressing the RAF from the wider speech in a manner that retained impact and was comprehensible to a lay audience. The speech was however published as a separate booklet in both Britain and America [21; 22]. HI recorded public reactions to the speech the following day. In its daily report on morale the speech ‘was received extremely well, according to all reports’. Northern Ireland respondents said ‘it is the most forceful and heartening he has yet made’; Newcastle citizens felt that ‘it has created a strong feeling of confidence’. In Bristol, verbatim comments included: ‘Everyone feels now that, come what will, we are top dogs’ and ‘we shall win no matter what slight doubts there were before’ [600 (21.8.1940)]. In its report from the regions Weston-super-Mare ‘reported a feeling that the Premier was a little too optimistic’. But from London, ‘his reference to the R.A.F., thought to be completely right – epitomises the feeling of the country’ [600 (21.8.1940)]. Confirming the power of his oratory, it was recorded by the Wartime Social Survey that out of 551 interviews, Churchill’s broadcast speeches were mentioned 166 times by respondents during the period 23–28 August [600 (6.9.1940)]. Mackay recounts that in August Churchill’s approval rating was a whopping 88 per cent, according to a Gallup survey [255, p. 147]. Churchill’s phrase continued to be used throughout the war in celebrating the Few, including films, books, magazines and other media. Even by 1944 the Army waiting to invade Normandy were reminded in a resume of the crisis in 1940

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that Britain’s survival was partly attributable to Churchill and the RAF’s fighter pilots, the ‘few’ [153, p. 33]. Post-war, Churchill’s eulogy has become inseparable from mental images of cheerful but resolute young fighter pilots during 1940. Mackay suggests that Churchill’s Homerian line powerfully conveyed a modern sense of the 300 Spartans in the Pass of Thermopylae, the fate of many resting on the bravery of a few [255, p. 120]. It was a magnificent tribute and expressed the nation’s gratitude exactly, Churchill brilliantly capturing and projecting the exact precise. Churchill’s later oratory Churchill remained in close contact about the Few’s progress. For example, following over a month of serious air fighting Colville recorded a telephone conservation between Churchill and Beaverbrook on 31 August: ‘The P.M. was deeply moved by what he saw this afternoon at Uxbridge: he said that what he saw there brought home the war to him’ [160, p. 278]. As he liked to do, Churchill visited Uxbridge again on 1 September and discussed the air fighting with Park, expressing delight with the RAF’s pilots [160, p. 280]; Colville’s diary confirmed that Churchill was highly impressed by the fighter pilots’ achievements [209, p. 767]. His next ‘war situation’ speech to the Commons again mentioned the RAF during large-scale air battles, just two days before the attack on London (5 September 1940) [20, pp. 263–71]. The Times covered it in ‘The war in the air – Mr. Churchill’s confident forecast – A nation grim and gay – German air losses’ [530, p. 2, col. a]. Six days later, the BBC transmitted his briefer ‘Every man to his post’ (11 September 1940) [20, pp. 272–5], a call to arms in the face of expected invasion. The Times recounted it in: ‘Mr Churchill’s words of cheer – British defences better than ever’ [535, p. 4, col. a]. Listener and writer Naomi Royde-Smith was interested to see whether Churchill’s 11 September broadcast had the same effect when read in The Times, and began with Churchill’s second paragraph, his account of massed air attacks: You will understand (our flattered attention is at once roused) that whenever the weather is favourable waves of German bombers, protected by fighters, often 300 or 400 at a time, surge over this island, especially the promontory of Kent. Last week’s news grows fresh at that ‘surge’ and ‘the promontory of Kent’ becomes a strategic point whose importance has hitherto been kept from our knowledge. Relieved from the anonymity of ‘certain areas’, ‘a town on the South-East coast,’ ‘a well-known public building’, which dulls the news bulletins from seven in the morning to midnight, we accept the Prime Minister’s next disclosures . . . as proof of his well-founded, and nobly expressed conviction that he, at any rate, can trust us. The device seems simple enough, but only a great orator has the cunning to use it and the restraint not to repeat it, once it has made its effect. [82, pp. 41–2]

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In the broadcast Churchill had concluded the paragraph by reminding listeners that such attacks were met by RAF fighters and usually broken up, enemy losses generally higher at three to one in aircraft and six to one for pilots [20, p. 272]. Following the air battles on 15 September Churchill again congratulated the Few on their prowess in a message to Sinclair on 16 September. The Times printed the tribute the following day with the article headline ‘Fighter Command Record – Prime Minister’s Tribute – ‘‘Enemy cut to rags and tatters.’’ ’ The statement read, Yesterday eclipses all previous records of the Fighter Command. Aided by squadrons of their Czech and Polish comrades, using only a small proportion of their total strength, and under cloud conditions of some difficulty, they cut to rags and tatters three separate waves of murderous assault upon the civil population of their native land, inflicting a certain loss of 125 bombers and 53 fighters upon the enemy, to say nothing of probables and damaged, while themselves sustaining only a loss of 12 pilots and 25 machines. These results exceed all expectations and give just and sober confidence in the approaching struggle. [538, p. 4, col. c] Recognising the immense propaganda value of maximising that Sunday’s air success, Churchill made reference to the battles again, this time in the Commons. The Chamber was updated on the war’s progress, with comments on the RAF’s 15 September triumph against the Luftwaffe’s assault on London, the exuberant claims for which he did not publicly doubt (17 September 1940) [20, pp. 276–8]. More tellingly in that speech was the shifting focus to the war against civilians in the developing Blitz, a facet of the air war that would progressively eclipse the RAF’s daylight combats as the Luftwaffe diverted its bombers to night attacks. The Times published the speech on 18 September, under an article with the sub-heading ‘Mr Churchill on Sunday’s brilliant air action’. He confirmed, ‘Sunday’s action was the most brilliant and fruitful of any fought upon a large scale up to that date by the fighters of the Royal Air Force’ [539, p. 4, col. a]. Yet again, the RAF had provided a stunning propaganda opportunity – that crucially, resonated in America – even if the claimed figure was in reality significantly less. A case in point, only three weeks later, ‘We can take it’ was the theme of his next Commons’ speech. Mention was made of the RAF’s continuing combat successes (8 October 1940) [20, pp. 279–91]. The RAF clearly in his mind on that day, Churchill chided his cat Nelson for being afraid of the loud explosions of guns, reminding him of the RAF’s successes [160, p. 305]. A slightly later speech to the Commons mentioned RAF valour and achievement as part of an assessment of the summer and autumn crisis weathered by the nation (5 November 1940) [20, pp. 301–9]. His ‘We will never cease to strike’ speech at the Mansion House, London, in looking forward to

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the war prospects for 1941 noted the important role played by the RAF during the Battle (9 November 1940) [20, pp. 310–13]. Four of his major 1940 speeches were sold as gramophone recordings by HMV in October (19 May and 18 June were originally made to the Commons; 14 July and 11 September were first broadcast by the BBC) [307, p. 181]. Thereafter, Churchill’s central role in propagandising the Few’s successes was frequently affirmed in wartime publications. In February 1941 Churchill’s full speech texts were published in Into Battle: Reynolds confirms that as a best-seller it sold 60,000 copies in both Britain and America [307, p. 181]. Churchill’s widely disseminated speeches and broadcasts were hugely important. Churchill’s prowess in being able to ‘mobilize the English language and send it into battle’, as powerfully suggested by the US broadcaster Ed Murrow, was a major propaganda asset. Churchill himself captured the importance of his wartime oratory: ‘The people’s will was resolute and remorseless. I only expressed it . . . They had the lion’s heart. I had the luck to be called upon to give the roar’ [223, p. 34].

British, Empire and international tributes Glowing comments about the RAF were not confined to Churchill, Dominion and exiled governments and military figures similarly extending tributes. Following their Premier’s lead, Churchill’s coalition government was keen to offer praise, as were other senior politicians. Sinclair and Beaverbrook featured regularly in wireless broadcasts, as did Duff Cooper, but their impact was less striking than Churchill’s powerful set-pieces. The initial government response was collective when ‘Cabinet’s thanks to the R.A.F.’ featured as a front-page item in the Mirror on 12 August, the air war about to escalate dramatically [400, p. 1]. Other examples illustrate the tone and flavour of senior politicians’ commentary on the air fighting, suggesting that by mid-August the ‘few saving the many’ was a familiar theme amongst Churchill’s ministers. As noted above, three days before Churchill’s address, Duff Cooper broadcast to the nation on 17 August making reference to the successes in recent air battles and expressing gratitude to the pilots [522, p. 2, col. e]. Churchill’s Foreign Secretary, Lord Halifax, also gave a speech on 20 August, and echoed Churchill’s tribute: ‘there had never been a more arresting reflection in history than the thought that the fate of modern civilisation depended on some thousands of young air pilots, their average age perhaps twenty-three, ‘‘whose courage and skill was saving the world and earning the world’s admiration’’ ’ [505, p. 1]. Later, Sinclair, speaking as a guest at a luncheon given by the National Defence Public Interest Committee on 18 September also lavished fulsome praise on the RAF: But of course when we think of the defence of our homes against German bombardment our minds naturally turn first to our brilliant and

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incomparable fighter squadrons. The individual ascendancy of our pilots over the German pilots and aircraft is still firmly maintained. The battle on Sunday was the greatest air battle ever fought, and our fighter squadrons swept the skies clean of the German invaders and shot down one in three of the invading aircraft in the process. And slightly later in the same speech: Here are sound and reasonable grounds for your faith in the Royal Air Force – and in those clean, strong, young pilots who are fighting in the skies every day and all through the hours of darkness the crusade for freedom and right against the myrmidons of the brutal Nazi tyranny. [540, p. 5, col. f] Australia’s Prime Minister, Robert Menzies, had been reported in The Times on 17 September as speaking for his citizens in expressing faith in the RAF, and in confirming the growing contribution in training activity and manpower made available to the RAF [538, p. 3, col. d]. Thirty-three Australians flew with Fighter Command, but the numbers increased as war progressed. The Secretary of State for India, Leopold Amery, heaped praise on the RAF on two occasions as reported in The Times. On 1 October in Scotland, he confirmed ‘of the Battle of Britain, [that] there was no doubt that Britain was having the best of the first round. Our airmen were not only holding their own over this country, but were doing far more effective damage to Germany’ [551, p. 9, col. e]. Speaking later in Gosport on 27 October, he said of Hitler’s invasion ambition: That plan had miscarried thanks to the heroism of a few thousand young men in our Air Force . . . Every attempt of the German Air Force to come over in strength was defeated by the sheer courage, nerve and gay gallantry of our airmen. It had been a remarkable victory of quality over numbers. [569, p. 2, col. c] Other comments about the RAF reported in The Times included a brief item on 4 October entitled: ‘ ‘‘Only one side in it’’ – Air Vice-Marshal Saul’s confidence in R.A.F’ [553, p. 2, col. c]; and on 24 October, by Harold Balfour in ‘Britain’s air strength – Minister on reasons for confidence’, a report on his speech the previous day to the Overseas Club. Having paid tribute to the RAF’s defence during recent air battles, he then drew attention to the RAF’s multinational nature, with Czech, Polish, Free French, Dominions and American pilots, fighting with the RAF – and the formation of a new American Eagle Squadron. The Luftwaffe’s failure to achieve air superiority was highlighted as an example of Germany’s inability to defeat a resolute and determined enemy. Citing the role of propaganda in wartime he acknowledged that ‘propaganda was part of war,

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and a weapon which must be used with skill’. But, he continued, ‘No one – not even the most hardened politician – could tell the story of those gallant pilots who were defending our shores or striking at the heart of Germany, except in terms of truth.’ Next, in challenging the idea that Britain would sink to deceit in its claims for enemy aircraft destroyed he confirmed, ‘We did not need to lie in the claims which we made of our achievements in the air; the truth was sufficient’ [566, p. 2, col. a]. Britain’s press was adulatory in its praise of the RAF’s achievements, very extensive coverage given to their prowess. Socialist MPs Aneurin Bevan and Stafford Cripps had established The Tribune, a left-wing paper, before the war. It provided a valuable platform not only for the propagation of the paper’s editorial beliefs, one example being Bevan’s ‘Let us deserve our fighters’, an article about Britain’s fighting forces with some attention to the RAF’s defensive air battles with the Luftwaffe, but also attitudes amongst the home front and the need to work decisively for victory. He began with a brief survey of the first year of war, recognising that ‘the Nazis have begun their great onslaught on the defences of Britain . . . The most terrible battle of this most terrible war has started and on its outcome depends not only the independence of Britain but all our hopes of a civilised life’ [575, p. 12]. Bevan continued with a brief assessment of the vital roles being played by the navy and RAF affirming the important, heroic struggle being played out over the Channel. He then paid tribute to the RAF’s fighter pilots: As wave after wave of Nazi bombers fly to our coast our fighters rise to give them battle. In the hearts of the young men of the R.A.F. there is no qualifying condition, no mean or sordid bargain, no careful weighing of interests, no backward glance, except the last glimpse of the home that they have left perhaps for ever, or of the sweetheart with whom they have shared dreams of a future together, maybe not to be fulfilled. In their hearts and minds there is nothing but selfless dedication, a fierce pride in the meteor-like machines they command, and a dauntless determination to protect these shores from the pollution of conquest. Armed with these and with the idealism which is the most precious gift of youth the young fighters of the R.A.F. are performing prodigies of valour infinitely moving to us and an astonishment to the witnessing world. [575, p. 12] Three examples from the Mirror confirm the tone of editorial comments and tributes to the fighter pilots. On 16 August in its Comment item the editor acknowledged the increasingly serious attacks by the Luftwaffe in ‘Prayers and pilots’ [404, p. 5, col. a]; this was followed the next day by a similar Comment in ‘Salute our airmen’ [405, p. 5, col. a]; and on the day of Churchill’s tribute to the Few, a small text box entitled ‘RAF have saved world’ anticipated his words

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[407, p. 10, col. c]. Reported in the ILN, The Times was so taken by their successes that on 23 August it declared: ‘It is possible that we do not even yet realise the extent of our victory’ [505, p. 1]. Praise was given to pilots from the Dominions, their capabilities detailed in lengthy items in The Times; and perhaps with an eye to the governments in Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa from where 282 young fliers had come. The 233 pilots from Czechoslovakia and Poland also attracted considerable praise, their courage, tenacity and capability rapidly resulting in successes against the Luftwaffe. ‘Fight at 30,000 feet – Enemy aircraft in three waves – Czechs in Action – Over Canterbury – A Canadian success’ confirmed the wide-ranging, multinational nature of the combat on 27 August [525, p. 4, col. c]; and on 2 September in a lengthy report, sub-headings included: ‘Continuous attacks driven back – 300 raiders over S.E. England – Fine work by Polish and Canadian squadrons’ [527, p. 2, col. a & b]. An article on the 4 September again mentioned the Czechs: ‘Air thrusts at London’s defences fail – Waves of hundreds of machines repulsed by fighters – 25 enemy raiders destroyed – At great height – Attacks aimed at aerodromes – Seven shot down by Czechs – Czech successes’ [529, p. 4, col. f]; three days after the first major attack on London, full details of the air fighting were again featured: ‘Daylight raid on London – 47 of the enemy shot down – Canadians shoot down ten’ [533, p. 4, col. d]. Twenty Polish fighter pilots received decorations from the exiled Polish Prime Minister, General Sikorski, on 18 September, a brief item in The Times confirmed; the squadron had claimed 71 aircraft, the award ceremony itself staged around two scrambles [540, p. 3, col. f]. ‘Czechs open a new account’ promised more to come as a newly formed Hurricane squadron chalked up its first victory; it had been trained alongside an established Czech squadron that by 19 September had claimed about 40 enemy aircraft [556, p. 4, col. d]. Dr C.E.H. Harloff, the exiled commander of the Royal Dutch Air Force, offered his views on the air fighting on 2 September, and reprinted in ‘Dutch tribute to R.A.F.’ he described them ‘as the most splendid fellows he had ever seen, and said that it was obvious that the superiority of the R.A.F. was not only in the quality of the machines used, but also in the spirit of the British fighting men, which was truly magnificent’ [528, p. 3, col. c]. Dutch Prime Minister Professor Gerbrandy in a BBC broadcast on 15 September – the RAF having earlier deflected major attacks against London – praised Britain and Churchill for their resolution. In a tribute to the RAF he said, ‘We all know that the eyes of the world in breathless silence are watching this battle round London . . . The sea is England’s shield and the Royal Air Force wields the sword of attack above the head of Hitler and his satellites in their own capital’ [537, p. 4, col. e]. General Sikorski made a BBC broadcast to Poland on 26 September, a talk covered in detail by The Times entitled ‘R.A.F. gaining air superiority’. Comparing the Luftwaffe’s

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methodology with the approach used against Poland the previous year, Sikorski confirmed that ‘the German air activity was being paralysed by the splendid action of the R.A.F.’, that had denied air superiority to the enemy [547, p. 9, col. d]. Praise for Britain’s endurance and the achievements of the RAF were expressed in several neutral countries including Sweden, Russia and Turkey, The Times making use of reports from their own correspondents, foreign newspapers and comments from politicians and military experts. On 4 September in ‘British spirit unshaken – Swedish admiration’, reports from several Swedish newspapers affirmed that Britain’s resistance had led to confidence in eventual victory, and ‘The results of the air war show . . . that Britain has secured what she needs to be victorious – a long war’ [529, p. 3, col. e]. Again from Sweden, in ‘British air arm unweakened – A Swedish summing-up’, Colonel Bratt, a newspaper correspondent, attested that ‘The British air defence has so far fulfilled its extremely difficult task, being still neither broken nor weakened.’ He conjectured that no firm decision as to a German invasion date had been made, the results of the air fighting probably the key factor [541, p. 3, col. d]. At the end of the same article, a brief passage entitled ‘The Russian view’ considered the Battle of London and Germany’s failure thus far to achieve air supremacy in the face of RAF resistance. It contended that a decision had shortly to be made to cross the Channel, at which point the RN would then become involved [541, p. 3, col. d]. Almost a month later in ‘Soviet praise for R.A.F. – Failure of German attacks’, a brief article in the Red Army newspaper applauded the RAF’s airfield defences that had resulted in few aircraft losses on the ground during enemy attacks. It concluded however – and in contrast to the British view – that ‘Present actions show that air supremacy belongs to neither side’ despite the efforts made [561, p. 3, col. b]. Given the changes in tactics adopted by the Luftwaffe it was fair to argue that during daylight the RAF did hold the upper hand, but night-time attacks posed considerable defensive difficulties. Soviet diplomatic correspondence tended to accord with the extensive coverage printed by the Soviet press, but opinions varied as to the real significance of the air fighting and whether it would prove decisive in the wider Anglo-German struggle [248, pp. 72–81]. In a lengthy article about Turkey’s stance towards the war, pressure from Germany to take sides, and support for Britain, brief mention was made of the RAF’s success, its prestige heightened since its intervention in France. The article noted that no letters or newspapers from Britain had been seen in Turkey since mid-June, and that the British should emulate the Luftwaffe propaganda magazine Signal in order to supplement official communiqu´es [552, p. 5, col. f]. By the end of October ‘Germany doomed to defeat’ was reported to be the view of one Turkish paper, the Nazis’ inability to defeat Britain a key strategic failure [569, p. 4, col. c]. This was to prove highly prescient.

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Deliverance Despite exhaustion the Few’s morale was sustained at a high level throughout the Battle, pilots’ willingness to continue fighting a key factor in their success. Effective fighter-leadership was vital, as was comradeship at the squadron and flight levels where despite losses Fighter Command’s fighting ability was sustained. This was also evident to the Luftwaffe where the relentless attacks by Spitfires and Hurricanes sat at odds with what Nazi propaganda and the grossly inflated claims for RAF fighters shot down, were suggesting. Palpably, the RAF was not down to its last 60 Spitfires, ground crews, aircraft factories and repair units working feverishly to keep fighters in the air. Aside from the widely reported successes, the Few were the focus of considerable appreciation at all levels of British society from Churchill to the ordinary citizen. Although Churchill benefited politically from the success of Fighter Command and saw the propaganda opportunities to be gained in promoting a (much needed) British success, his praise was heartfelt and he thought very highly of the Few. Churchill was not alone; the King, senior RAF commanders, senior politicians and leaders across the world also moved to pay tribute. Although modest about their achievements, the fighter pilots would have been sustained by the broad thrust of appreciation for them amongst leaders, politicians, the media and home front. In this sense the propaganda war of which they were the central focus played a part in sustaining their willingness to keep fighting. Dowding, in his final message sent to all units in Fighter Command on 20 November began ‘My dear Fighter Boys’, and although misquoting Churchill, captured the feelings of many: In sending you this my last message I wish I could say all that is in my heart. I cannot hope to surpass the simple eloquence of the Prime Minister’s words ‘Never before has so much been owed by so many to so few.’ That debt remains and will increase. [357, p. 258]

4 Winged Words

Collating and broadcasting the claims Heroism in the air was most graphically conveyed through combat successes and the numbers of enemy aircraft pilots were able to bring down. Stunning aerobatics, flying and formational skill availed little unless closure was provided with a burning wreck. It was a brutal but harsh truth. That was the point of an integrated air defence system, the RAF’s success marked out by an ability to take on overwhelming enemy formations and inflict unsustainable losses. The Polish air force had fought with tenacity and bravery against the Luftwaffe in September 1939, but outnumbered and poorly equipped, they had been overwhelmed with rapid loss of air superiority. What distinguished the RAF from the Polish air force – aside from the sophisticated air defence system – was its impact upon the Luftwaffe. As in football or cricket, to have fought valiantly and skilfully, but to come ‘second’ was of little use. The result was all, the Test Match ‘cricket score’ approach the easiest means of projecting progress to a sporting nation. Woon, a wartime reporter in London, recounted seeing one newspaper seller’s handwritten billboard that confirmed the RAF’s successes as 44 at half-time [102, p. 56]. Mollie Panter-Downes, the New Yorker’s London correspondent, recorded on 28 July that: ‘On Friday afternoon, newspaper-sellers were chalking up on their boards ‘‘Twenty-three planes down yesterday’’ – a new record which was later corrected to twenty-eight and which greatly encouraged people’ [70, p. 80]. Against an adversary that had been portrayed as a formidable, daunting and superbly well-equipped foe in the interwar years, these successes were even more valuable for propaganda. Churchill was keenly aware of this and careful to praise the Luftwaffe as a powerful opponent in the air fighting. The reasons were conveyed to Duff Cooper in which he chided the Minister of Information for his ill-informed broadcast about the Italians’ poor fighting abilities in June. Churchill argued that it was a well-established principle that the enemy’s prowess should be praised so that in the event of success, it added 91

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more to the victory [265, p. 139]. The risk of course was that in so doing, the RAF might feel intimidated by the prospect of tackling such a powerful enemy. That this never happened on any appreciable scale says much for the ‘fighter boys’ ’ morale, professionalism and deadly devotion to duty. The propaganda war that revolved around them – at times with the ferocity of a tornado – clearly played its part in sustaining morale as fatigue and attrition took their toll. A central plank of the propaganda war was the AM’s daily claim of enemy aircraft, known to many as ‘the bag’. The following sequence is believed to accurately represent the process by which an individual RAF fighter pilot’s shooting down of a Luftwaffe aircraft became a propaganda statistic of some importance on the world stage. The AM communiqu´es’ production cycle involved a series of stages, prompt processing vital to meet established media deadlines. The initial stage was the compilation of combat details in debriefs by the fighter squadron’s IO. In a small item entitled ‘Calculating enemy losses – Every claim doubly checked’, The Times confirmed the methodology: For the purpose of determining enemy casualties three categories are used – destroyed, probable and damaged. A machine is claimed as destroyed only if it has been seen to blow up, to be hopelessly on fire, or to have crashed on land or sea. The ‘probables’ are machines which have suffered extremely severe damage with pieces breaking away, or were seen to be crashing down, but were not observed to have hit the ground. The ‘damaged’ are those which have not only been hit, but have been seen to have suffered definite damage, such as a piece of the machine breaking away or smoke pouring from it. [522, p. 9, col. e] Once time permitted, pilots would produce detailed combat reports on the RAF’s ‘Secret’ classified ‘Form F’, often a one-page summary of the combat, and aircraft claimed as damaged or shot down. During post-sortie debriefs, pilots’ claims would be checked with squadron colleagues who may have seen the combat, and could confirm the result. The 1941 pamphlet was at pains to convey the attention to accurate assessments: ‘These figures, compiled immediately after the fight and in accordance with the very strict rules applied by the Royal Air Force to pilots’ reports, probably underestimate the casualties they inflicted’ [93, p. 26]. Anti-aircraft gun batteries and Observer Corps personnel might furnish details of shot down aircraft. The IO then prepared a squadron intelligence report that included total claims for that day’s current actions. This information was forwarded to the relevant Group’s IOs, squadrons’ claims scrutinised and collated to provide an overall Group tally. Thereafter, Fighter Command’s HQ at Bentley Priory received Groups’ figures, these again scrutinised and collated to provide totals. AI6 at the AM took receipt of the

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claims thereafter: having scrutinised them again, the raw material was forwarded for processing by propagandists who compiled the communiqu´e’s narrative. AI6 gave a final security clearance to the communiqu´e, after which the AM News Service forwarded it to the MOI [88, p. 35; 98, p. 9]. These communiqu´es had to be read out in full by the BBC, a situation that did not begin to change until November at which point the MOI relaxed its attitude, but only in very exceptional circumstances [276, p. 198]. Despite this, control appears to have been exercised over the original texts even in mid-1941, where to its irritation, the MOI was refused permission to alter the contents of official communiqu´es [119, p. 64]. The release of the communiqu´e in the MOI Press Room meant that the press, BBC and foreign correspondents were able to relay the information for broadcasting or publishing. As a final stage, in Britain MOI censors would scrutinise correspondents’ finished copy prior to its being projected to the public. In this manner the pilot’s individual combat assumed key importance, not least because his Luftwaffe adversaries were engaged in the same process just across the Channel. These daily tallies gained immense significance as the fighting reached a climax. A number of observations can be made about this process. The speed at which raw combat data could be manipulated into ‘hot’ propaganda was vital. Fighter Command HQ material coming into AI6 and thence to the writers of air communiqu´es required constant attention to the developing air war picture, not least to meet the demands of daytime BBC bulletins and the evening newspaper deadlines. For home front consumption brief communiqu´es were released several times a day, their lengths dictated by the constraints of shorter BBC news bulletins. Additional information could be obtained from the AM News Service, but this was inevitably proscribed by the content of official releases. The early morning releases of communiqu´es suggests that the AM’s News Service was manned 24 hours a day, AI6 similarly required to scrutinise and agree news output at any time. The result was that daily, millions of Britons with access to the wireless were able to follow the RAF’s successes on an almost hourly basis through the unalterable texts of AM communiqu´es. This was naked propaganda, the AM fully aware of how vital these bulletins were in manipulating opinion and sustaining high levels of morale. To have maintained impact these needed to convey good news day after day, week after week: the heavily censored communiqu´es were exactly right for the purpose, if criticised for being dull – examples are given below. For the American domestic media a different scale of ‘hot’ news turnaround was required. The five- or six-hour time lag between Britain and the United States meant air fighting that was already many hours old could be communicated to American audiences as almost ‘real-time’ events. News supplied to the American news agencies thus had the benefit of being summarised and contextualised to reflect the day’s overall ebbs and flows, rather than the drip-drip approach

94 The Good Fight

occasioned by sporadic releases of the latest claims. Nevertheless, there were difficulties in ensuring that communiqu´es were made available to the crucial American news agencies such as Associated Press in time for the next issues of domestic US newspapers. American frustration sometimes centred upon the slow turnaround of news material by the AM, the Luftwaffe managing to release information on their pilots’ claims much earlier. For example, the Telegraph in its 19 August issue ran ‘Nazis’ 9-hour lead in raid news to U.S. – Exasperated Americans’ pleas to Lord Lothian’ (as the British Ambassador in America), a front-page article that commented on the delayed release of AM and Ministry of Home Security communiqu´es. It confirmed that ‘Messages from the London representatives of the important American news agencies . . . were submitted to censorship from 12.20 PM onwards. The first of these was released at 9.22 PM, some time after the last editions of the American evening newspapers had gone to press’ [422, p. 1, col. g]. This dispute rapidly entered into the public domain, the British frustrated by the American doubts raised. An extended private letter dated 17 August and written over a period of several days by H.M. Harwood in London, was sent to a friend in North America: ‘To-day we have the usual complaints from U.S.A. of delay in our accounts of air battles. Therefore, as your public apparently prefers false news to no news, the German accounts are accepted! The explanation is very simple. It takes time to collect and check up on our figures’ [96, p. 53]. The sheer scale of the air fighting was advanced by The Times for the delays, IOs unable to process all the details ‘before the pilots were sent into the air again to counter another German wave of bombers and fighters’. It continued: ‘That is one reason why during the past week reports have necessarily been delayed and full details of German losses have not been available until the early hours of the following morning’ [522, p. 9, col. e]. So concerned were the Commons by the delays that Duff Cooper as the head of the MOI was to be questioned. A key concern was that the Germans ‘manage to tell their story first, which plays on the world’s imagination without a single denial or correction from British sources . . . [And the need to take steps] so that a wrong impression will not be given to the American public through a practice of undue silence on our part which is calculated to cause doubt and apprehension’ [523, p. 4, col. f]. Chapter 9 includes details of the impact of AM propaganda in America. Examples of communiqu´e contents during the height of the Battle – and during the period of American concerns about access to timely information – included the following, taken from The Times, and often printed in their entirety. On 19 August: The latest Air Ministry communiqu´e, issued about 2 o’clock this morning, stated that it was then known that 140 enemy aircraft were destroyed in raids on this country yesterday. An earlier communiqu´e, announcing that the

Winged Words 95

enemy had lost ‘at least 115 aircraft,’ said that, having regard to the numbers employed, this represented the heaviest defeat Germany has yet suffered at the hands of our fighters and ground defences. [522, p. 4, col. a] Ministry of Home Security communiqu´es and bulletins featured very broad accounts of attacks on towns and cities, in addition to casualties, any detail usually absent. These were sometimes issued jointly with AM communiqu´es in respect of air fighting, it being easier to detail the overall situation by combining the two. For example, in The Times the above passage was followed by this communiqu´e, jointly from the AM and Ministry of Home Security, issued at night on 18 August: In the raids upon this country at midday today bombs were dropped in the outer fringe of the South London area, in Kent, and in other parts of southeastern and southern England. Information so far available shows that some civilian casualties were caused in the neighbourhood of Croydon. Elsewhere the number of casualties was small and the damage slight. This evening large formations of enemy aircraft again crossed the south-east coast near Dover and the North Foreland. These formations attempted to penetrate the London defences along both sides of the Thames Estuary but were broken up by our attacking fighters and driven back over Kent and Essex. The available information is incomplete, but it appears that very little damage was done and few casualties were caused in this evening’s raids. Reports received up to 8 p.m. show that at least 86 enemy aircraft have been destroyed in to-day’s battles. Seventy-three of these were shot down by our fighters, 12 by antiaircraft fire, and one by a searchlight crew. Sixteen of our fighters have been lost in combat, but the pilots of eight of these are safe. [522, p. 4, col. a] Indicating the cumulative nature of releases, the above two were then followed by: An Air Ministry communiqu´e issued earlier stated that bombs were dropped on several R.A.F. aerodromes where some Service personnel were killed and others injured. [522, p.4, col. a] The Times was able to devote space to publishing lengthy accounts of these battles but tabloids such as The Mirror had little choice but to take details from these that fitted their editorial style. ‘Cricket scores’ were the easiest means of conveying success without devoting lines of text to saying so. Numerous examples confirm the structured content, and the justification for criticism as made in The Aeroplane magazine about the use of language, noted in Chapter 1. Another example of the joint communiqu´e issued by AM and Ministry of Home

96 The Good Fight

Security ‘yesterday afternoon’ on 15 September and published on 16 September in The Times, and thence two further updates of the day’s fighting read, This morning a large number of enemy aircraft crossed the coast near DOVER in two waves. They were promptly met by strong formations of our fighters, and an air battle ensued. In the course of this two small enemy formations succeeded in penetrating to the LONDON area. Bombs were dropped, and among enemy objectives Buckingham Palace was again hit. The Queen’s private apartments were damaged by a bomb, which did not explode. Elsewhere in the London area houses were hit, some fires broke out, and damage was done to gas and water mains. From preliminary reports it is clear that the number of casualties was small. At least 50 enemy aircraft were shot down in this raid. [537, p. 4, col. b] Last night the following communiqu´e was issued:Up to 8 p.m. it is known that 165 enemy aircraft have been shot down to-day. Thirty of our fighters have been lost, but 10 of the pilots are known to be safe. It was learned at the Ministry of Information later last night that up to 10 p.m. 175 German aeroplanes had been destroyed in battles over Britain during the day. [537, p. 4, col. b] As confirmed previously, the RAF’s claims for 15 September were much higher than eventually proved to be the case, but it is striking to note the manner in which the overall tally rose as the evening drew on and squadron IOs made their final submissions. By the next day the press were claiming that the RAF and anti-aircraft defences had downed 185 aircraft. The loyal media, entirely dependent upon the AM for such information, willingly used the figures provided.

Breaking the news The news reporting cycle was a key factor for propagandists in deciding when to release material about aircraft claims. Whereas propagandists and censorship could determine what was communicated, the vehicles for projection – press, wireless, newsreels, magazines – worked to their own production timescales, determining the when. Figure 1 indicates a typical reporting week, the days under the various media confirming the latest events capable of being covered on the current day. In this timescale propaganda output was very much aligned with ongoing ‘hot’ news coverage, particularly that broadcast daily on the wireless, featuring

Winged Words 97

Day of media output

Newspapers ‘currency’

BBC News ‘currency’

Newsreels ‘currency’

Magazines ‘currency’

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday

Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday; week

Same day Same day Same day Same day Same day Same day Same day

Thurs–Sun – – Mon–Wed – – –

– – – – – Previous week –

Figure 1

Relationship between events and subsequent media coverage

in daily newspapers – addressing the previous day’s events – and screened in newsreels. In order to maximise the propaganda opportunities responses needed to be sensitive to the BBC’s news output – the most critical time being the nine o’clock news – and for newspapers, to allow for their production times for the following morning’s first editions. Newsreels, with a slightly longer production span, were still dependant upon the rapid dissemination of news and supporting materials. Sunday newspapers and magazines, where their content was still highly topical but lacked the immediacy of daily accounts, typically addressed news reportage based upon a weekly cycle. An advantage was the opportunity to summarise or contextualise a week’s events – for example the RAF’s aircraft successes against the Luftwaffe – but not always possible in daily reporting, or through the timely provision of film, graphic or photographic images. Conducted during latter 1940, Figure 2 confirms how many people followed the news, whatever its source, the M-O survey based upon interviews of many thousands of people from all backgrounds and occupations. Britain had an approximate population of 46,824,000 in England, Scotland and Wales, based upon an aggregate of the 1931 and 1951 decennial censuses. Allowing – unscientifically – that perhaps 30 per cent of these were children and teenagers aged from birth to 18, this left approximately 32,777,000 adults, irrespective of age, marital status and occupation. The following figures take on a new significance in the aircraft claims war given these admittedly crude demographic estimates (Figure 2) [57, p. 27]. If the original M-O survey figures can be trusted as accurate, confirmed in the table was the very high interest occasioned by dramatic events across the Channel during May and June, with July’s ‘very well, alone’ stance resulting in less interest, and repeated in August despite the ferocious air battles. Into September the attack on London was of heightened interest, but this slipped back during October and November, doubtless because of the low threat of invasion, a topic of considerable interest earlier in the year. Overall, the reality was that a significant but fluctuating element of the population was disengaged from the news – and therefore the steady stream of propaganda emanating

98 The Good Fight

Month of survey

% of people not interested

% of people interested

Headline news events

May June

9 (c.2.9 m) 9 (c.2.9 m)

91 (c.29.8 m) 91 (c.29.8 m)

July

17 (c.5.5 m)

83 (c.27.2 m)

August

17 (c.5.5 m)

83 (c.27.2 m)

September October November

14 (c.4.5 m) 22 (c.7.2 m) 29 (c.9.5 m)

86 (c.28.1 m) 78 (c.25.5 m) 71 (c.23.2 m)

Battle of France; BEF retreat from Dunkirk Dunkirk; defeat of France; threat of invasion Threat of invasion; aerial attacks over Channel Aerial attacks; threat of invasion; Berlin bombed London Blitz; threat of invasion London Blitz; air war ‘won’ Coventry attack; London Blitz

Figure 2

Engagement with the news during May–November 1940

from the AM. They may, however, have been given the edited highlights from friends and colleagues, or bought a Sunday newspaper for the sport, entertainment and other features, but not the news. The corollary was that the great bulk of the population were engaged with the news, and certainly in sufficient numbers for regular AM output to make a significant impact upon morale. Given the high levels of news engagement, AM communiqu´es broadcast by the BBC and printed in the press were a central plank of RAF propaganda. An idea of the sheer volume of AM output can be gauged by the fact that in the three months between 23 July (bulletin no. 1206) [88, p. 195] and 23 October (bulletin no. 2065) [88, p. 92], 859 bulletins were released by the AM News Service – equal to just over 286 per month. Obliged to recite the details of AM communiqu´es, the BBC complied even when bulletins overran allotted times. That said, some of the daytime communiqu´es were brief, requiring only a minute or so to be read during shorter bulletins. The discrepancy was wide between what was claimed and broadcast by the BBC, and the reality as illustrated by a selection of dates given in Figure 3, during which the claims were often high. Both the fighting and BBC reporting continued between these dates, but not to the levels of ferocity suggested by the claims on both sides. Luftwaffe claims on these 11 days were clearly very excessive at 667 RAF aircraft. The British AM conceded that 229 fighters had been lost, 43 less than was actually the case. Given the scale of the air fighting and the vital propaganda issues involved, these were surprisingly candid figures. During the same period the Germans’ admission of their losses was 143 aircraft less than the actual case. Relatively, this was a wide margin between the adversaries: the Luftwaffe under represented 43 per cent of their losses, and comparatively, the RAF stood at only 18 per cent. The RAF’s claims were 312 aircraft more than they actually downed: as an average for each of the 11 days, this represented over 28 aircraft per day. The Luftwaffe’s over claim was in the order of almost 61 aircraft each day.

Winged Words 99

Date

British losses reported by

16 August 18 August 24 August 25 August 26 August 30 August 31 August 2 September 4 September 5 September 6 September Totals Figure 3

German losses reported by

BBC

Deutschland-sender

Actual

Overclaim

BBC

DeutschActual land-sender

Overclaim

22 22 19 13 15 25 37 20 17 20 19

92 147 64 72 70 98 133 93 57 46 67

21 27 22 16 31 25 39 31 17 20 23

+71 +120 +42 +56 +39 +73 +94 +62 +40 +26 +44

75 152 50 55 47 62 88 55 54 39 46

31 36 20 14 21 34 32 23 17 16 24

45 71 39 20 41 36 41 35 25 23 35

+30 +81 +11 +35 +6 +26 +47 +20 +29 +16 +11

229

939

272

+667

723

268

411

+312

BBC and Deutschlandsender broadcasts of air claims [133, p. 288]

c by Source: Modified version of table from The War of Words by Briggs, A. (1970) – Copyright  permission of Oxford University Press.

Writing in 1941, Dowding was unequivocal in his criticism of Nazi propaganda arguing that the Luftwaffe’s claims were ludicrous, as were their own admissions of losses [29, para. 114, p. 4550]. AM air communiqu´es provided a daily running commentary on the RAF’s claims, that in addition to regular broadcasting by the BBC, regularly graced newspapers’ front pages. From the outset of the Battle in July, the ‘cricket score’ approach was well established, the Mirror particularly prone to featuring daily totals on its front pages as eye-catching banner headlines. The Mirror’s 11 July issue included: ‘R.A.F.’s battle score – 37’ [378, p. 1], and the following day, ‘R.A.F. bag 27’ [379, p. 1]. An approach not confined to the Mirror, the Herald included ‘Nazis over here lose another 11, all bombers’ [365, p. 1], and at the end of July, the Mirror ran the illustrated account, ‘17 raiders down in 30 minutes’ [390, p. 1]; in a common approach, the month’s total was trumpeted by the Mirror in ‘RAF bag 240 in July’ [392, p. 1]. Just before Adler Tag pressure upon Britain’s air defences was building, but victories were being inflicted, each side’s score given as a headline: ‘R.A.F. smash 53 Nazis, lose 16, in all-day battles’ confirmed the Mirror [398, p. 1]. During the following days The Mirror continued to give large figures of Luftwaffe aircraft shot down: ‘60 fall to R.A.F. and guns’, but acknowledged the fierce ‘claims’ war being fought out between German and British propagandists in ‘89 British down – Nazis’, that was to reach its zenith as August progressed [400, p. 1]. With the postponed Adler Tag about to get underway, the results of fierce air fighting on 12 August was reported in the Mirror and Express amongst many

100 The Good Fight

newspapers: ‘Nazis raid naval port – 39 down’ [401, p. 1] and ‘R.A.F. shoots down 39 more Nazis and loses only nine fighters’ [361, p. 1]. ‘Yesterday’s total 69’ reflected the Mirror’s acceptance of AM claims for Adler Tag, and included ‘Enemy losses’ as a small box showing aircraft claims [402, p. 1]. The following day the Mirror acknowledged the dispute about victory claims in ‘Spurred on by air lies’, a brief text-box feature [403, p. 1]. 15 August prompted the Mirror and Telegraph amongst others to claim many Luftwaffe aircraft destroyed: ‘144 down out of 1000’ [404, p. 1] and ‘144 raiders down for loss of only 27 planes’; the latter included ‘1000 sent over and 14 per cent lost’, and the cumulative total: ‘Nazi losses now 443’ [421, p. 1]. A far more modest claim for the 15 August of 69 enemy aircraft appeared in the News Chronicle with ‘Yesterday’s reckoning: 69 German planes destroyed’, and also the RAF’s level of success with ‘5 to 1’ on claims in their favour [436, p. 1]. The Mirror and Telegraph’s reports of fighting on the 18 August again gave high totals with ‘100 shot down: dive raids near London’ [406, p. 1] and ‘115 raiders out of 600 destroyed’, that day in reality seeing high losses on both sides of the conflict [422, p. 1]. More modest headlines appeared on 20 August’s Mirror with ‘Lures raiders, downs 3’ and ‘Five Nazi lone raiders down’ [407, p. 1], its report on the following day eschewing the relentless ‘score’ approach with the weary sounding, ‘Yesterday’s bag’ [408, p. 1]. Returning to the score approach, its 26 August issue reported ‘24 Nazis down in one fight’ [412, p. 1], a score almost doubled that day, and reported on 27 August with some coverage of a mistaken attack on Neutral Eire: ‘46 planes down: raid on Eire’ [413, p. 1] and ‘46 down’ [369, p. 1]. Anticipating the increasingly vicious ‘tit-for-tat’ raids against the protagonists’ capitals, ‘Nazis raid London – and 13 towns’ [418, p. 1] detailed modest attacks that would soon mount in ferocity against London. The Telegraph confidently proclaimed on 2 September: ‘RAF winning supremacy – waves of Nazi raiders foiled – 25 down’ [424, p. 1, col. a], when the reality was rather different, the RAF suffering from repeated attacks. As an example of coverage in The Times that represented a headline in that most traditional of newspapers: ‘293 German losses in a week – 69 pilots saved from 113 British fighters’ [527, p. 4, col. b], provided a more sober assessment drawing upon AM figures. On the day that London was first attacked in strength during daylight, the Telegraph printed: ‘45 more air raiders shot down – 371 [by aircraft] – 61’ [by anti-aircraft guns] [425, p. 1], followed on 9 September with: ‘1,374 Nazis down in first month’ [426, p. 1], that were it true would represent a staggering air defence achievement. The London attacks becoming sharper insofar as civilians were concerned, prompted the accusation that: ‘ ‘‘After his big losses, enemy threw off all pretence of military targets’’ ’, with ‘52 down’ conveying the scale of vengeful retaliation [496, p. 1]. ‘90 down’ in the 12 September’s Express needed little other explanation, most readers by now familiar with the sporting approach [362, p. 1].

Winged Words 101

15 September was a key moment in the Battle, Hitler and Goering recognising that their plans for Britain’s defeat had not progressed as planned. The RAF claimed massive Luftwaffe losses during that day’s fighting, all newspapers devoting mostly front-page coverage to the extended air battles, viewed as a signal British victory. London’s Evening News featured three related headlines with ‘185 raiders down yesterday in R.A.F.’s record one-day victory’, ‘Big new attack beaten back today’ to confirm that the Germans had not given up yet, and finally, the price being paid: ‘460 airmen, and about £2,500,000’ concerning aircrew and aircraft costs and losses [497, p. 1]. The day’s fighting continued with the ‘175’ claim in all the main dailies on the 16 September, these often with qualifying details such as the Telegraph’s: ‘175 raiders down’, with ‘One in two destroyed – R.A.F. lose 30’, and the total of ‘1726 in 5 weeks’ [427, p. 1]. ‘175 shot down’ [363, p. 1], ‘175 Nazi planes down’ [367, p. 1] and ‘Half raiders brought down’ – ‘350 came, only 175 returned’ [370, p. 1] completed a satisfying level of coverage for the RAF’s ‘Battle of Britain Day’. As the fighting changed focus and the London night Blitz developed, the coverage moved increasingly away from ‘cricket scores’ on the front pages to inner-paper details. This was partly a reflection of the changing nature of the fighting, but also the development of other news demanding greater prominence now that the immediate threat of invasion was over. For example, ‘Mass raiders are beaten off: 23 shot down’, a late-September headline, reminded readers that the air fighting continued but there was no denying the rather wearisome repetition of details [368, p. 1]. Front pages had by then been dominated for the best part of three months by the RAF’s claims.

Persuading Britain Aircraft ‘cricket scores’ attracted widespread public interest and appreciation, many of these recorded in diaries. A number of diarists were providing material to M-O, others keeping diaries purely for their own interest. M-O diarists varied in age, background, employment and location, and included Christopher Tomlin in Fulwood, Lancashire, Tilly Rice in Surrey, Pam Ashford in Glasgow, Maggie Joy Blunt near Slough and an unnamed Cambridge graduate in Monmouthshire, Wales. Private diarists included an 18-year-old South Londoner, Colin Perry; Richard Brown, an engineering designer, who lived in Ipswich; Walter Musto, close to retirement and a resident of East Molesey, Surrey; and Mollie Panter-Downes, a journalist writing for the American New Yorker, living in London. Tomlin, who was accepted by the RAF for ground duties, began to record aircraft losses in the days before the Battle began in earnest. On 3 July he noted the loss of 25 German bombers in only two weeks, at a cost of some £500,000 each based on comparable British machines [202, p. 293]. His optimism was

102 The Good Fight

dampened by the 23 July, but given the scale of the air fighting by that stage his assessment was a little harsh: ‘It was too much to hope the RAF’s luck would continue. 11 of their machines went west on Sunday and 4 yesterday’ [202, p. 313]. The graduate writing from Wales was similarly pessimistic, having written a few days earlier on 15 July that the RAF’s loss of 86 aircraft during the previous month, compared poorly with Germany’s losses of 119 – a number the Luftwaffe could afford to lose [146, pp. 77–8]. The overall trend as reported in communiqu´es was however positive: Brown, in Ipswich, noted on 31 July that the BBC had confirmed 240 enemy aircraft shot down in July, these being certified figures. Moreover, he thought this might amount to some 600 crews lost by the Luftwaffe [138, p. 55]. News of RAF successes was also confirmed in private correspondence, as on 7 August when F.T. Jesse wrote jubilantly to an American friend that 70 Nazi aircraft had been downed in an attack on a convoy [96, p. 44]. Days before Adler Tag was launched, the ferocity of the air fighting was noted by Perry, who on 9 August recorded German losses of 64 aircraft, the RAF doing rather better at 16 fighters [292, p. 35]. Although the air fighting had been developing in intensity since earlier July, by 12 August it was clear that the Luftwaffe’s effort was increasing. Citizens throughout Britain were keenly interested in following the news, the period from mid-August to the 7 September attack on London representing the highest level of recorded engagement with the daily scores. Panter-Downes’ comment was typical: ‘Thursday’s and yesterday’s mass air raids over the Channel, in which on each occasion the R.A.F. made a magnificent showing by accounting for sixty planes, seem to indicate that the phase of softening-up operations is over’ [70, p. 87]. Tilly Rice, writing on the same day, noted the increased air activity, 131 enemy aircraft downed by the RAF. In common with many listeners she confirmed that: ‘I get a great thrill out of listening to the BBC accounts of these battles’ [202, p. 333]. The 13 August confirmed the scale of the air fighting, Perry recording in two diary accounts that 128 enemy aircraft had been lost during the previous two days, with the Germans sending over 500 or more aircraft in each raid [292, p. 43]. Having listened to the evening news he recorded that the RAF had kept up its average, managing again to shoot down 67 aircraft and losing only 11 fighters [292, p. 44]. On the same date Walter Musto assessed that in the profit and loss account for the air fighting since the war began, the RAF could claim a superiority of three to one, the Germans having lost 2282 more aircraft [274, p. 147]. This trend was to continue. Adler Tag on 13 August resulted in large RAF claims, the delighted Ashford, Musto and Perry all recording 78 enemy losses on 14 August [202, p. 335; 274, p. 147; 292, p. 48]. Two days later – and at two ends of a social spectrum – both Churchill and Perry’s reactions to the air fighting on 15 August was ecstatic, doubtless reflecting the view of millions of others. Perry could not contain his joyful exuberance, noting that 88 enemy aircraft had been shot down by 5 PM,

Winged Words 103

with a loss of 19 fighters, and four pilots safe [292, p. 52]. Much later that day, when the full claims were known, Churchill, who followed closely the daily results, was recorded by Colville as saying of the 161 German losses that ‘this is one of the greatest days in history’ [160, pp. 262–3]. Given the huge Luftwaffe effort it must certainly have seemed so. The days leading up to 7 September found the RAF under considerable enemy pressure, the relentless attacks taking an increasingly serious toll of pilots, aircraft and operational capability. Despite this the news continued to be good, perhaps confirming the view that AM propaganda was at its most strident when the situation was desperate. Maggie Joy Blount wrote on 18 August simply that: ‘German air losses, if our figures are correct, are tremendous’ [202, p. 339]. Brown, writing on 21 August, recorded more modest claims with only eight enemy aircraft lost on 20 August, and ten on the day of writing. He calculated that the odds were four to one in the RAF’s favour on the basis of enemy and RAF aircraft losses since 18 June [138, p. 59]. Tomlin, on 27 August, similarly maintained an interest in the ratios: ‘Our fighters are losing their ratio of fivefor-one. The ratio fell to three-for-one on Sunday and two-for-one yesterday’ [202, p. 347]. On 3 September Brown reflected that the war had lasted for one year, and again noted diminishing returns for the RAF, where the enemy had lost 50 aircraft to the RAF’s 20 [138, p. 59]. The arithmetic was undeniable, and others commented to HI on the reducing advantage that the RAF had seemed to enjoy during the earlier period of fighting since July. Perry, ending the month on a high was satisfied that the RAF had shot down 86 aircraft on 31 August [292, p. 96]. Astonishment at the Luftwaffe’s 7 September day and night-time assault on London was widely commented upon not only by HI, but also in private diaries. Perry noted on 8 September that the BBC had made a special broadcast detailing the attacks on the docks, and reported the loss of 86 enemy aircraft to the RAF’s 22 fighters. He had seen over 100 of the enemy aircraft himself [292, p. 112]. Brown noted the attacks against the capital, in revenge for which the enemy lost the higher figure of 99 aircraft (probably reflecting a later bulletin), the RAF’s losses chiming with Perry’s [138, p. 60; 292, p. 60]. Attacks against London were sustained, the night-time Blitz beginning to develop as a new dimension. The results of the massed air assault against London on 15 September were widely celebrated. Perry wrote during the evening of his delight at hearing the evening news broadcast that confirmed 165 enemy aircraft shot down [292, p. 134]. Musto wrote on 16 September of the morning news’ confirmation of 185 aircraft shot down out of 400 sent against Britain, the RAF losing no more than 25 fighters [274, p. 157]. A less adulatory entry on the same day, from the M-O diarist in Wales similarly recognised the day’s significance, and noted the number of aircraft shot down as ‘grand’, and confirmation that Hitler was not having things all his own way [146, p. 82].

104 The Good Fight

This was an accurate assessment, Maggie Joy Blunt recording on 23 September what was clear to everyone: ‘Mass raids in the daytime are a conspicuous failure. 187 enemy planes shot down a week ago’ [202, p. 371]. Whilst the RAF’s successes continued to be reported, it was inevitable in the face of the Blitz, and the rapidly receding threat of invasion, that interest would be diverted from the ‘cricket scores’. Of the diarists, Brown’s entry of 24 September confirms the fading of published interest in the air fighting. His entry recorded that the Luftwaffe had lost 26 aircraft the day before, the RAF’s losses at four, with three of the pilots safe. He also confirmed the one-dimensional nature of the reportage and the challenges of maintaining media freshness in a campaign already running for some 11 weeks [138, pp. 63–4]. The fighter-bomber attacks characterising October’s daylight effort by the Luftwaffe attracted no attention in the published accounts; the lack of coverage was also reflected in HI reports.

The aircraft-claiming controversy A critical propaganda issue during mid-August was the focus upon RAF claims and their accuracy. Most claims were made in good faith but were inevitably exaggerated, a problem for both sides [192, chs 5–8]. Individual squadron pilots could only gauge such claims on the basis of their own experiences in combat. At the height of a dogfight, with aircraft flying in all directions, some of whom were personally trying to kill you, it was difficult to focus upon the sort of details required to confirm a claim in the calm atmosphere of a post-sortie debriefing. Some enemy aircraft emitted what appeared to be smoke when diving, this easily mistaken for a damaged engine. An aircraft in a steep dive, spinning out of control, or with bits falling of it could appear doomed, but be recoverable. Several pilots in different squadrons attacking an aircraft successively could all claim the same kill, respective squadron IOs recording it as a separate combat in each case. A twin-engined bomber might appear stricken, but with smoke pouring from one engine, could just about make it across the Channel on the other. It was ill advised to follow an aircraft down to check that it had crashed, the risk of being shot down by an unseen foe, real. For the same reasons it was difficult to secure confirmation from fellow pilots, the lack of independent verification downgrading many claims to ‘probable’ or ‘damaged’ status. In other instances the pilot might be awarded a share of the claim: perhaps a fifth, half or quarter. Many aircraft crashed into the sea and unless spotted from the shore, or had the irrefutable evidence provided by German POW aircrews, were equally difficult to confirm or deny. RAF fighters carried a 16-mm machine-gun G42 cine-camera that recorded footage of attacks on German aircraft, but these only operated when the gun-button was depressed, so that it was not always possible to confirm the outcome of individual combats through filmic evidence.

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Additionally, there were qualitative problems with vibration, condensation and film definition. Just pre-Battle examples of gun-camera footage appeared in The Aeroplane on 14 June, of a He111 (Plate 8) [470*, p. 782]; and on 21 June in War Illustrated showing the same He111, in addition to footage of a Do17 and Me110 on fire [578, p. 674]. Fighter squadrons were by their nature very competitive environments for young men. Pilots barely out of their teens were paid and trusted by the nation to fly, fight and sometimes die in the most advanced fighter aircraft in the world, one of a tiny elite defending British airspace. This was a considerable pressure on any shoulders, the need to be seen to be contributing, intense. Fairly or not, pilots’ effectiveness was judged by success. Walker, writing about the claims controversy, confirmed that the pilots’ word of honour was important, his colleagues best placed to judge whether the claims were extravagant or justified [98, p. 123]. Whilst not leading to deliberate lies about claims, the pressures were understandable, especially when colleagues were awarded the DFC or DFM. For example, Pilot Officer Denis Wissler recorded his personal frustration in his diary during early September, following the award of the DFC to squadron friend Flying Officer ‘Birdy’ Bird-Wilson [155, p. 324]. Despite Wissler’s sustained efforts in his Hurricane, he was unable to achieve more than a ‘shared’ or ‘half’ claim, these being insufficient for achieving the DFC. The reality was that many found it equally difficult, many going to their deaths, as did Wissler, with only modest claims. In the light of this the AM’s rationale for anonymity was more understandable when viewed from the perspective of modestly scoring pilots. They too, day after day, repeatedly attacked large Luftwaffe formations and equally made a difference. A pilot neatly summed up the issues: ‘just because a man with R.A.F. wings up has not got a gong stuck underneath them, don’t think that he’s not a hero . . . most of the work of the R.A.F. is done by that large percentage of pilots who have received no recognition other than the respect in a fellow-citizen’s eyes when he spies those silver wings’ [31, p. 173]. None of these messy and complicating details about claims were even remotely communicated to the public. Instead, projected through the media was the clean, transparent and relentless attrition of the Luftwaffe’s aircraft, with no hint of the many variables, contradictions, puzzles and omissions that dictated their compilation. For example, every few days The Times printed an updated tally of enemy aircraft losses in tabular form, their relentless upward trend leaving little room for doubt. Examples from September and October included: ‘293 German losses in a week’ [527, p. 4, col. b]; ‘German losses in the air – The recent raids – Casualties compared’ [528, p. 5, col. g]; ‘German air losses – Comparative figures’ [534, p. 4, col. b]; ‘German air losses – The month’s total’ [539, p. 4, col. e]; ‘Enemy losses – Toll of German airmen’ [541, p. 4, col. d]; and ‘Enemy air losses – A mounting total’ [552, p. 4, col. a]. Similar tables were

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published in other newspapers, but also weekly magazines such as The Aeroplane, and more graphically as occasional features in the ILN. Crucially, as the AM well knew – and the above reports proved – all that the press and BBC could do was to publish or broadcast the claims, security issues providing a foil in preventing closer scrutiny. Much however depended upon trust if the figures were to be believed, the hazards for plummeting morale a considerable risk if widespread doubts surfaced. It was fortunate for the AM that whilst appearing somewhat exaggerated, they remained credible – if at times doubtful – to most of the population [276, p. 199]. The RAF pilots, senior officers and British public would have suffered a significant loss of self-confidence at a crucial moment that might well have proved decisive. Most military personnel in Britain would have access to the news [276, p. 206]. Both fighter pilots and their ground crews listened to BBC news bulletins, the negative impact of sudden, official scepticism about their claims not hard to imagine. General Ismay recounted the central importance of the ‘score’ to members of the public in London: ‘All London, nay, all England, could think of little else. ‘‘What is the score today?’’ was the question on every lip in bus, Tube, factory and office. The hall porters at hotels and clubs had to supply the answer a dozen times a day’ [228, p. 180]. In such circumstances to publicly question the integrity of pilots who made claims in good faith was a betrayal that was more than the AM was willing to bear. It was the case that the RAF’s pilots had never seriously expected to entirely destroy the Luftwaffe, in which case the progress being reported was particularly encouraging and a real bonus. For the Luftwaffe’s aircrews different problems arose through over claiming: first, if so many RAF fighters had been shot down so easily, leaving few in service, there still appeared to be sufficient numbers to mount an effective defence; second, for an enemy whose fighting prowess and equipment had been ridiculed by Nazi propaganda, they appeared to be taking a deadly toll of Luftwaffe’s aircraft and crews; and third, because of over claiming, serious tactical and strategic mistakes were made by Luftwaffe planners that undeniably compounded their problems. Despite the unreported advantages to the RAF, many had doubts even if they were unwilling to publicise them. George Orwell wrote in his diary on 20 June: ‘The first air raid of any consequence on Great Britain the night before last. Fourteen killed, seven German aeroplanes claimed shot down. The papers have photos of three wrecked German planes, so possibly the claim is true’ [282, pp. 352–3]. On 9 August he recorded similar doubts: ‘No real news for days past. Only air battles, in which, if the reports are true, the British always score heavily. I wish I could talk to some RAF officer and get some idea of whether these reports are truthful’ [282, p. 365]. No RAF officer would discuss this candidly, for whilst there might well be doubts the very widespread nature

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of the fighting made it impossible for any individual to access the full details coming in from the squadrons and Groups. Only personnel with high security clearances would have such access, and they worked strictly on the ‘need to know’ principle. As the air fighting grew in intensity and such news dominated the media, doubts continued, Orwell recording privately on 16 August what many wondered: ‘Enormous air battles over the Channel, with, if the reports are anywhere near the truth, stupendous German losses. E.g. about 145 were reported shot down yesterday’ [282, pp. 365–6]. Some were more willing to inject a cautious note into their effusive praise for the ‘fighter boys’. Also on 16 August Aneurin Bevan MP published in The Tribune under the title ‘Let us deserve our fighters’, the following passage, originally highlighted in bold typeface: So heartening are the figures of the number of enemy machines brought down in the now unending air battles over the Channel that even our exultation admits of a doubt that the results can be quite as good as all that. Nevertheless, all the inquiries which are open to Members of Parliament bring the assurance that the AM are careful to err, if at all, on the conservative side, and that no machine is regarded as lost to the enemy unless proven beyond all doubt. We accept this assurance, because it must be obvious to the Government that any attempt to falsify the figures would result in the most bitter and depressing reaction throughout the country. [575, p. 12] Striking the right balance between credibility and farce was therefore a matter of key interest to the AM. The public’s willingness to accept the figures as truthful was undeniably a crucial aspect of the propaganda war, the impact upon morale likely to be very serious if doubts grew. HI reports provide a valuable insight into the levels of public trust and morale. On 27 July, HI in Leeds confirmed the hazards expressed above by Bevan: ‘Lord Harewood’s remark that: ‘‘our morale will be upset if we become aware that the government is not telling us the truth’’ has met with much approval’ [600 (27.7.1940)]. The same issue was reported again on 17 August, again in Leeds: ‘A number of people quote Col. Knox’s reported speech that ‘‘we are not getting the truth because warring nations only reveal such information as they desire’’ ’ [600 (17.8.1940)]. As the Battle progressed the British public’s views about the claims varied, as revealed in the following HI reports. On 27 July in Manchester it was noted that ‘They still read of 6 Hurricanes fighting 80 Messerschmitts and say ‘‘let the facts speak; we are not interested in paper planes’’ ’ [600 (27.7.1940)]. Massed attacks yet to begin, a report on 31 July noted that citizens in Edinburgh reflected a ‘slight mistrust of R.A.F. successes’ [600 (31.7.1940)], evident too in Newcastle

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on 5 August: ‘The continued success of the R.A.F. as shown by official communiqu´es is leading to a little scepticism, and there are requests for explanation of the R.A.F.’s qualitative superiority’ [600 (5.8.1940)]. The demand for clear reasons as to the RAF’s prowess over the Luftwaffe was to be repeated at various times. A daily report on morale dated 10 August, and only days before the Luftwaffe significantly stepped up its air offensive, also questioned the accuracy of the RAF’s high claims: ‘Our air losses are constantly compared with those of Germany and since German communiqu´es are widely heard or read in this country, people are at loss to understand the reasons for our disproportionate losses.’ The report continued: ‘The recent publication of the recent comparative table of air losses brought many comments . . . ‘‘I thought the losses were about 5 to 1, not 2 to 1’’, ‘‘It’s not as favourable as I thought’’ ’ [600 (10.8.1940)]. Returning to the vexed issue of the RAF’s technical superiority, citizens in Cambridge were reported on 10 August as being confused by the wide variation in British and German air losses, citing comparably high Luftwaffe claims for RAF kills that suggested similar distortions practiced by both. Unwilling to believe that the AM might be lying, the report echoed the demand made earlier in Newcastle: ‘There is a general desire for a convincing explanation why our own aircraft are so strikingly superior’ [600 (10.8.1940)]. Some expressed in private what would prove to an accurate assessment of the difficulties. Tomlin noted his father’s scepticism on 14 August: ‘Thinks reported German losses are hot air. It is easy for a pilot to think he’s sent a machine down; the authorities have only the pilot’s figures to rely on’ [202, p. 336]. Such demands and views would have irritated AM officials, who doubtless felt that the public should accept their claims without question. Given the earlier problems with news credibility during the Norwegian campaign this latest problem required an official response, especially when Germany was broadcasting entirely contrary claims. On the same day that Tomlin recorded his father’s doubts, the daily report on morale again reflected concerns about the veracity of the news. Suggested remedies to calm doubts included: ‘Technical descriptions, i.e. those which give the reader or listener some sense of control over the situation, are well liked and eye-witness accounts, whose authenticity can be guaranteed, are approved’ [600 (14.8.1940)]. Doubtless aware of the hazards of not countering such views, Air Marshal Joubert made a response to public concerns in a broadcast. London residents were pleased by his comments: ‘Much satisfaction expressed at descriptions of how German ‘plane losses are counted . . . These descriptions are making people believe almost completely in the authenticity of news of German losses’ [600 (16.8.1940)]. A report from Newcastle reflected similar views: ‘Previous doubts as to the credibility of news bulletins referring to R.A.F. successes and air raid casualties, have been dispelled by more detailed broadcasts, and the successes of local fighter squadrons’; and from Bristol, ‘Explanation of the care with which claims of successes against

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enemy aircraft are checked has done much to strengthen confidence in our communiqu´es’ [600 (19.8.1940)]. Despite official efforts not all were satisfied, lingering doubts continuing into later August. Reports on 20, 21 and 22 August confirmed the public’s contrary views: in Leeds it was reported that ‘The variation in the number of enemy machines claimed to have been brought down by our Air Force in different newspapers has a disturbing effect in Barnsley’ [600 (20.8.1940)]; from Leicester the following day came criticism that RAF aircraft destroyed on the ground were not included in communiqu´es [an aspect that continues to result in misleading totals for German and British aircraft lost]; from London, that ‘Doubt is still expressed about the accuracy of German air losses’; and, in Manchester, confirmation that ‘some people fear we may exaggerate Nazi losses by too much manipulation of figures’ [600 (21.8.1940)]. By contrast and confirming the difficulties of relying too heavily upon such data, a report on 23 August confirmed that in Nottingham ‘most people believe official figures of German air losses’; and in the same report, about Manchester, ‘Public stated to be expecting [accepting] R.A.F. figures unreservedly and suggestion is made that any further attempts to convince people of their authenticity will savour of us suggesting too much’ [600 (23.8.1940)]. Conversely, into early September doubt was expressed in Cambridge as to whether the RAF’s losses were as high as reported in the news, and whether they might not in fact to be fewer than claimed. Senior officers at the AM must have welcomed these occasional comments as evidence that if anything, they were being too honest in their reporting [600 (3.9.1940)]. In the revised HI reporting format, for the period 14–21 October, public comment on official communiqu´es confirmed that: ‘Criticism and concern about official news of aerial warfare and bombing is reported. The fact that German losses are now approximating to those of the British has been realised by the public and they are asking for an explanation’ [601 (14–21.10.1940)]. By this stage the significance of the air fighting had changed, the RAF’s fighters regularly seeking to bring down Luftwaffe fighter-bombers at high altitudes. There were far fewer twin-engined bombers to attack, and the Me109, once unburdened of its small under slung bomb, remained a potent fighter – provided of course it had the fuel to engage in dogfighting. The reality was that the claims controversy had lost its potency, a fact evident both to the AM but also the American media. Dispelling doubt The ‘truth’, as discussed above, was that the AM itself was not at all sure about how much reliance to place upon pilots’ claims. Pending more robust assessments by AI(3)(b) in early September, no one could be certain. Throughout August, and sensitive to concerns about the veracity of claims, the AM and MOI made various filmic and press efforts to reassure the watching world that

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the claims were ‘accurate’, despite doubts and evidence to the contrary. In addition to newsreel commentary was the MOI short film Story of an Air Communiqu´e (Chapter 7), this at pains to emphasise a series of careful claims’ checks throughout all stages of the process. The British media were keen to assist. The Mirror on 22 August published ‘How R.A.F. checks up Nazi loss’ [409, p. 2, col. b], followed two days later by ‘How the score of R.A.F. fighter squadrons is counted’ [504, pp. 254–5]. His views reported again following his mid-August broadcast, noted above, about the counting of RAF kills, on 30 August the Mirror in its ‘Harvest 1940’ column referred to Joubert’s comments about claims and disbelief [416, p. 10]. Duff Cooper, the head of the MOI even gave a broadcast on 17 August confirming the claim figures, that were also published, including by War Illustrated on 30 August [588, p. 196]. The Americans in particular were expressing concerns, not least because of the wide differences between British and German claims following each day’s combats (Plate 9). That said William Shirer, the CBS correspondent in Berlin, was minded to believe the British figures following evidence of German chicanery, the AM’s figures more or less the reverse of those issued by the Nazis [85, p. 203]. Nevertheless, one side must have been lying and distorting their figures, but which? In response to the Secretary of State for Air’s concerns about the situation following American requests for their newspaper correspondents to check the RAF’s claims, Churchill offered his views on 21 August in a personal minute. Having only the day before delivered his resonant tribute to the fighter pilots, he was in no mood to be distracted by American scepticism about their combat claims: The important thing is to bring the German aircraft down and to win the battle, and the rate at which American correspondents and the American public are convinced that we are winning, and that our figures are true, stands at a much lower level. They will find out quite soon enough when the German air attack is plainly shown to be repulsed. It would be a pity to tease the Fighter Command at the present time, when the battle is going on from hour to hour and when continuous decisions have to be taken about air raidwarnings, etc. I confess I should be more inclined to let the facts speak for themselves. There is something rather obnoxious in bringing correspondents down to air squadrons in order that they may assure the American public that the fighter pilots are not bragging and lying about their figures. We can, I think, afford to be a bit cool and calm about all this. I should like you to see on other papers an inquiry I have been making on my own in order to check up on the particular day when M.A.P. said they picked up no fewer than eighty German machines brought down over the land alone . . . I must say I am a little impatient about the American scepticism. The event is what will decide all. [209, pp. 743–4; 152, p. 269]

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He was of course correct. RAF claims were a key propaganda element in Britain’s determination to fight on and to prevail – and in so doing secure vital American aid. Churchill well knew that any substantiated reductions in RAF claims would have a very detrimental impact on both British and American public opinion. If American correspondents discovered the true figures it would prove impossible to manage the ensuing propaganda war, trust in the British government seriously eroded on both sides of the Atlantic. It was therefore decided to allow the American media access to fighter pilots at two RAF airfields in late August, during which the process of compiling claims could be seen in action. Of particular interest to correspondents was the decision about accepting ‘confirmed’ claims, as distinct from ‘probables’. What could not be achieved was of course a tie up between claims and wrecks on the ground, but the undoubted integrity of RAF pilots was a decisive factor. Sheean recorded that he had met ‘fighter pilots in their hours of waiting, their hours on the alert, their young eyes haunted’, in addition to a visit to the 11 Group HQ where he watched at first hand the calm control of fighter assets [84, pp. 204–5]. Such access did much to reassure American correspondents and Cull confirms that as a result of the visits, numerous articles appeared to confirm the reliability of the figures [167, p. 91]. Whilst American public opinion continued to be very sceptical about the claims, the key factor was that the US government were convinced enough to continue their support. In Britain too, there was a willingness to accept the veracity of the claims. 31 August’s ILN confidently stated that: ‘The wildly inaccurate German initial reports have been corrected by the careful calculations of our own Air Ministry’ [505, p. 1]. Disputes about the accuracy of claims had died down by the end of September, but the BBC decided in any event to provide daily broadcasts to America, Canada, Newfoundland and the West Indies. In a service that would run continually for almost six hours a day, beginning during the early evening, the Director-General of the BBC confirmed that: ‘If sometimes we should seem a little slow it is simply because we value accuracy. It may take quite a time, for example, to tot up all the German bombers and fighters which have been brought down in a single morning’ [549, p. 3, col. e]. Britain’s final arbiter of success or failure was whether or not Hitler attempted an invasion: if he and the Luftwaffe genuinely believed the figures, then there was little to oppose them. This was not a judgement to be based upon the opinions of the media, but instead, the advice of Luftwaffe IOs who must have been experiencing doubts about the RAF’s presumed weakness. Churchill and his senior commanders including Dowding, also aware of this, could afford to tough it out with the Americans. Writing in his 1941 despatch, Dowding recalled being ‘cross-examined’ by Sinclair in August 1940 about the discrepancies between British and German claims, the Secretary of State concerned about the impact upon American opinion. Characteristically robust, Dowding

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responded with the view that if the Germans’ figures were accurate they would enter London within the week, and its obvious corollary [29, para. 115, p. 4550; 203, p. 133]. Nevertheless, the dispute had clearly piqued some ministers, an element of defensiveness inevitable. On 24 October Harold Balfour spoke at a luncheon, the text later detailed in The Times under the sub-heading ‘Honest propaganda’: No one – not even the most hardened politician – could tell the story of those gallant pilots who were defending our shores or striking at the heart of Germany, except in terms of truth. We did not need to lie in the claims which we made of our achievements in the air; the truth was sufficient. It was the enemy . . . who had to use the weapon of propaganda for a crooked and deceitful part. [566, p. 2, col. a] Obfuscation T.C.G. James in his AHB narrative devoted several pages to the issue of RAF claims [235, appx. 36, pp. 394–7]. His commentary was written in January 1945 and acknowledged that the AM, Churchill and Dowding were determined to sustain the arrangements whereby details of combats were released by the DPR very shortly after they had been concluded [235, p. 395]. Dowding was undeniably concerned about the impression that was conveyed to the public via the daily RAF claims, and in his memorandum on 16 August was at pains to confirm with Sinclair that the figures were indicative and could not be relied upon as an exact guide. Dowding, slightly hedging his bets, confirmed that despite his reservations the figures were based upon all available evidence and appeared genuine! [235, p. 395] He was right to express his concerns and clearly realised, as did all senior politicians and involved RAF officers, that it was highly undesirable to belatedly issue qualifying remarks for the public about the unverified nature of the claims. This concern not to become publicly bogged down in the details was convenient, Deighton arguing that it was the AM and RAF’s policy simply to accept pilots’ claims without exhaustive checking. Because the RAF did not officially recognise ‘individual scores’ this allowed them on the one hand to avoid official scrutiny, but on the other, to release the figures as propaganda. In no doubt that this obscuration was deliberate policy, Deighton suggested a clear link between the worst AM distortions on the one side, and the RAF’s pressing need for propaganda successes on the other [171, p. 231]. In this sense it can be argued that such propaganda amounted almost to theft, in that the public were deprived of the truth to satisfy Air Ministry needs – a striking contrast to concerns that such underhand tactics were ‘unBritish’. Secret efforts were made by AI(3)(b) in early September to reach a view about the net figure arrived at by weighing the claims made, against those absolutely

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confirmed by RAF IOs [235, pp. 396–7]. Tables were compiled listing various figures for the period 8 August to 30 October, when the air fighting was at its most intense and many land wrecks could be confirmed; the first circulated to a small number of the Air Staff on 19 September, and every week thereafter [235, p. 396, note 2]. What the intelligence summaries demonstrated was the wide gulf between pilots’ claims and clear proof for them. For example, during the period 8 August to 2 October, the total claimed by the RAF and anti-aircraft guns stood at 2091 enemy aircraft. Having exhausted all means of confirming these claims, and accepting only those for which there was significant evidence, the total came to 843 enemy aircraft, or 1248 aircraft for which no proof was available [235, p. 397]. Allowing for aircraft that had not been positively identified as lost, but probably had been, the RAF decided from such analysis that about 50 per cent of claims represented the true figure. Wood & Dempster confirm that Fighter Command were not pleased with these results and for a time, strongly resisted the implications [356, p. 51]. The AM finally agreed to the revised figures but decided against making this publicly known because of concerns about the impact upon civilian morale [356, p. 51]. Churchill, Sinclair and Dowding must have been aware both of the contents of these weekly summaries and, more vitally, their propaganda significance. Despite his mid-August assurances to Sinclair, later in the Battle Dowding expressed the view that over claiming was probably at 25 per cent. James writing the AHB narrative was convinced by January 1945 that the amount would be at least that (if not much higher) [235, p. 396]. Interestingly, even after the Battle, Dowding was cautiously unwilling to publicly concede any margin of error in his 1941 despatch, but wisely disclaimed a precise level of accuracy in enemy loss figures. He did however confirm that the RAF’s figures were carefully compiled and suggested that they were perhaps close to the truth [29, para. 113, p. 4550]. An aspect that does not feature in the earlier narratives about the Battle was the impact of Ultra decrypts from Bletchley Park, a subject which was to remain secret until the early 1970s. Even allowing for a limited circulation of these decrypts, some senior officials – including Churchill – were provided with an important if fragmented insight into the Luftwaffe’s Order of Battle, aircraft numbers and requirements [355, ch. 6]. In terms of exact details about Luftwaffe combat losses, Hinsley is equivocal where Ultra is concerned; in acknowledging the RAF’s AI3’s caution regarding losses, he confirms that it remained difficult to precisely confirm whether the RAF could outlast the Luftwaffe, in part because of confusion over the enemy’s overall assessed strength [224, p. 178]. However, decrypts in August were giving regular details about the size and composition of the Luftwaffe air fleets [284, p. 127]. What really mattered in such arguments was the number of combat aircraft with which the Luftwaffe had started the conflict, their type, replacement factory production and repair output and having

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sufficient pilots to fly and fight in them. Only armed with this accurate information would heated debates about claims have much bearing upon perceptions of success or failure. Other than its propaganda value in reassuring the public, that, ultimately, was the real test of the value conferred by accurate RAF claims.

Significance Viewed with hindsight the claims assume a different character. As discussed in Chapter 2, the discrepancy between what the RAF claimed and what was proven after the war was wide. The actual post-war figure varies, ranging from 1773 (Overy) to 1887 (Ramsey) Luftwaffe losses – a difference of 114, or one aircraft for each of the official days of the Battle. Bungay gives a total, original claims figure of 2741 by Fighter Command during this same period [142, p. 372]. Respectively, this suggests RAF over claiming of 968, or 58.2 per cent (Overy); and 854, or 45.3 per cent (Ramsey). Alternatively, the actual numbers of aircraft shot down were respectively, 63 and 68 per cent of the reported figures. If the two confirmed ‘kill’ totals are combined (Overy and Ramsey), and expressed as an over claim figure, 51.7 per cent comes very close to Dempster and Wood’s 50 per cent figure, above; they further agreed with this figure following post-war revisions of German losses [356, p. 51]. Fleming argued for a 55 per cent figure but this was based upon RAF claims of 2698 for the official period; a reduction of 43 on Bungay’s figure [190, p. 231]; and cited by Hough & Richards [227, p. 310]. Crudely, the margin of 51–55 per cent therefore confirms RAF over claiming of just above two to one. Surprisingly, Bungay says that RAF claims were some 200–300 per cent too high [142, p. 192], in which case an overall claim figure by the RAF of between 3500–5200 enemy aircraft would have resulted, but clearly did not. Given the primacy of the ‘cricket scores’ approach this over claiming would have been dramatic had it been publicly corrected in the RAF’s overall ‘profit and loss’ total. For example, 1008 aircraft are removed from Overy’s figure based upon Bungay’s 2741; and 854 if using Ramsey’s. This meant daily RAF claim reductions respectively of 8.8 and 7.5 aircraft, for the 114 days – or weekly, 63, or 53 aircraft. The slightly lower figure of 2698 claims results in a reduction of 925 aircraft (Overy), or eight per day; and 811 aircraft (Ramsey), at seven a day. Whichever figures are accepted, deductions on this scale would have had an impact on international perceptions. Similarly, had the Luftwaffe’s claim of 3058 been adjusted to reflect the actual RAF losses of 915 (Overy) or 1023 (Ramsey) fighters, then this too would have altered impressions – even where previous doubts about the German claims existed. And with good reason: respectively, the actual number of aircraft shot down by the Luftwaffe was only 29 or 33 per cent of the claimed figures. Based upon Overy’s figure the Luftwaffe over claim was 234.3 per cent, and Ramsey’s 199.0 per cent. Fleming confirms the 234 per cent

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figure, using Overy’s lower figure [190, p. 231]. At just over three to one, German over claiming was 2089 RAF aircraft, or 215.6 per cent, if Overy and Ramsey’s figures are combined for purposes of illustration. It also comes closer to Bungay’s suggested over claiming rate for the RAF, above. This represented about 18.3 RAF aircraft per day less than was claimed during the same official period. Curiously, the AM’s admitted losses of RAF aircraft were not far off those established postwar, but this was difficult to fully trust because of the heat generated by this media battle within the air war. A final point concerns the awards of medals to RAF fighter pilots such as the DFM and DFC for shooting down enemy aircraft. A reduction in the overall total figures allowed by the RAF would have impacted on the officially unrecognised individual ‘personal scores’ amongst the RAF’s equally unrecognised aces, anonymity discussed below [227, p. 311]. Despite this, given the fanfare and media attention paid to these awards, the propaganda consequences on morale could only have been dire were these to be publicly questioned. At the height of a battle upon which Britain’s future was believed to hinge, it would have been inconceivable to raise such issues. The impact upon the Few themselves might have been profound.

5 Mastery of the Air

Wireless propagandists By 1940 the BBC was a vital organ for disseminating propaganda about the RAF’s successes, these as discussed, in the form of AM communiqu´es and other information. The scale of its likely importance was recognised before war began. For sheer immediacy and reach the wireless offered unparalleled propaganda opportunities, a point acknowledged in 1938 when Rogerson conceded that the radio had changed and dramatically enhanced the potential for projection to mass audiences [79, p. 113]. A key advantage was the ease with which an individual or family could listen at leisure to propaganda in the comfort of their own home, both aspects making it more likely that they would absorb the messages [79, p. 116]. This almost required no conscious effort: a listener had nothing more to do than to hear the information – no reading, analysis of maps, images or published speeches. For the broadcaster, the transmission equipment already in place, there was the advantage of having little to do in terms of pre-broadcast production. Medium- and long-wave frequencies were those used for domestic British transmissions, short wave needed for broadcasts to European and more distant audiences. That said, medium-wave output from a station such as Droitwich was capable of reaching Eastern Germany [79, pp. 115–16]. The BBC was of central importance to the British propaganda war. Indeed, Taylor confirms that the decision to use the BBC as a key vehicle for disseminating AM aircraft claims and other materials at the onset of the Battle was essentially a propaganda masterstroke [339, p. 170]. The result was that the BBC were not only most willing to broadcast daily details of RAF successes – based on uncorroborated details from the AM – but that they were doing so throughout its duration. Their publicly funded status made it difficult to resist such demands, but the BBC strove to achieve a degree of independence particularly from the 116

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MOI – to whom it was accountable – who sought to exercise strong control over its output through policy and censorship control. Additionally, they broadcast speeches and talks about the air war by pilots, senior RAF officers and politicians, and featured actuality recordings in their news broadcasts. Difficult to comprehend in a modern, multi-media age, the wireless was the only form of passive media information and entertainment available to the typical 1940 British family, unless they ventured to a cinema. This reliance upon the wireless as a central feature of evening activity conferred a huge responsibility upon the BBC to satisfy expectations. Despite this, and the extensive broadcasting network then in place, the imminent outbreak of war found the BBC roundly criticised for the boring nature of its output, and the relentless use of organ music to fill the programme gaps created by its staff’s exodus from London on 1 September 1939 [223, pp. 16–17]. The situation had not been helped by the decision taken at that time to merge the BBC’s national and seven regional services into a single, Home Service for reasons of home security [223, p. 17]. The London-dominated Home Service arrangement continued throughout the war, as did the decision to end nascent television broadcasts on 1 September 1939, leaving 20,000 households with blank ten-inch screens [223, p. 9]. There were other problems for the BBC once it had moved fully onto a ‘war footing’ following the Phoney War and into the Battle of France. Before the Battle began tensions between the BBC and press were reaching a head during the coverage of the Battle of France’s air war in May, broader censorship aspects of which were described previously. Gardner discussed the irremediable problem that centred upon the BBC enjoying a massive audience for its evening Nine o’clock News, the details of which could not be released by the press until the following morning [33, pp. 128–9]. This gave an advantage of some eight or nine hours before the first newspaper editions were on sale. Gardner believed that the press – despite their massive circulations – viewed the BBC’s News Department as ‘a deadly rival’ and rather pointlessly tried to fight it as a competitor newspaper [33, p. 128]. He argued that they should play to their relative strengths and work together: the BBC in breaking ‘hot’ news, that for all of its immediacy was very ephemeral; the press in developing such stories and offering comment and photographs in a format that could be handled, discussed, re-read and preserved (insofar as readers had the time for reflection) [33, p. 129]. But the BBC was not only about breaking news, and only days before it temporarily suspended much of its output from 1 September 1939, Dowding as the head of Fighter Command had been able on 12 August to provide reassurance to listeners about the RAF’s preparedness to withstand an air assault. Ironically, it would be a year later during the Luftwaffe’s Adler Tag that his preparations would be finally tested – almost to destruction in 11 Group. Air exercises had

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been staged during which Fighter Command evaluated their command and control system, leading Dowding to confirm that he wished to impart to his BBC listeners a sense of quiet confidence in Britain’s preparedness to withstand an aerial assault, and to deal with any aircraft that did get through the RAF’s defensive screen [39, pp. 302–3]. Only 15 months later Dowding would lose his position despite proving the value of his air defence system. However, it was not until the following June, just over two weeks before the Battle began in earnest, that listeners were given a dramatic insight into how Dowding’s system operated, the BBC’s Spitfires over Britain an impressionistic combat reconstruction of a home defence squadron in action, broadcast on 25 June [276, p. 201]. This feature, recorded and produced by Cecil McGivern with the assistance of the AM, anticipated the coming air battles and stoic resistance shortly to be offered by the RAF. Dramatised speech, a convincing narrative by J.D. Kinross, authentic sound effects and an exacting attention to detail provided a depth of realism that powerfully conveyed what it was like to fly a fighter in such circumstances – or at least, to the extent that AI6 were willing to reveal such secrets. The scenario was an attack by three He111 bombers on a trawler in the area of the Tyne, the ship’s crew forced into their lifeboats. A flight of three Spitfires was scrambled to attack, these identified as Red 1, Red 2 and Red 3, the dialogue between ground controller and airborne pilots convincing as they attacked the Heinkels. This took up much of the programme’s length, its denouement provided by a narrator whose fast, abbreviated style, Brown likens to Gardner’s forthcoming account of an air battle over Dover on 14 July, discussed shortly:

The Flight Leader is moving at 400 miles per hour. He’s under cloud base, and with throttle wide open he’s making the Heinkel look as though it’s standing still . . . The Heinkel has seen him, and dives from 2,000 feet straight towards the sea . . . The third Spitfire’s streaking like a rocket northward . . . up to a great cumulus which glints in the sun. A second Heinkel’s in there . . . escape will be difficult. [Renewed sound of whining engines, which dim again] Red 1 and 2 are coming down in a terrific power dive. The Heinkel sees the two black dots which mean death diving from the clouds, and, seeking speed, opens his bomb hatches. The load splashes into the water as the Heinkel dodges all over the sea . . . he’s not fifty feet up . . . and it looks as though the inside wing must go into the water. The two Spitfires flash down . . . 400 yards . . . 200 yards . . . They’ve got him . . . cut him off like a whippet by anticipating a turn . . . They’re nearing the bottom of their dive . . . [The narrator having reached a crescendo, he resumes a sober pace and tone] A burst from each plane – each firing eight guns at a rate of 1200 bullets per minute, smashed into the Heinkel from a range between 50 and 100 yards. The Heinkel, ripped into pieces, went

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down into the sea after ten seconds. The attack began and ended within one minute. [136, p. 108] It concluded with Red 3 confirming with his Squadron Leader in a cockpitto-cockpit dialogue that he had shot down a Heinkel, but regretted that the third had escaped. Of one of many elements repeated in films, the reference to the whippet found an echo in the earlier MOI short Squadron 992, where a dog pursued a hare, interspersed with a Spitfire attacking a Heinkel near the Forth Bridge. The BBC was not to repeat a semi-dramatised feature along those lines until May 1941, again produced by McGivern, when Battle of Britain was broadcast; highly regarded, that immensely popular feature again benefited from a sense of authenticity through the AM’s involvement [223, p. 70; 253, p. 429; 276, p. 201]. By then, it had already been turned into an epic by the AM’s coverage in its best-selling pamphlet, most listeners familiar with the details. By mid-1940 the audience for such programmes was a substantial one, Spitfires over Britain reaching into the homes and minds of millions of listeners, and setting the scene for what was to follow. The number of wireless licences and sales of sets purchased in 1939 and 1940 revealed the scale of the BBC’s British audiences. Irrespective of previously owned radios, wireless purchases in 1939 were at 1,200,000, and in 1940, 800,000. By April, wireless sets might be rented for one shilling and elevenpence per week, or purchased for £11 [438, pp. 7, 10]. Licences bought at the end of 1939 stood at 8,948,000, and the reduced number of 8,904,000 at the end of 1940; a drop of some 44,000 in that year confirming in part the pattern seen in Figure 2, above [133, p. 69]. Rogerson believed that in 1938 the BBC’s audience was about 32,000,000 people, based upon 8,000,000 licences bought in that year (and four people to a typical family) [79, p. 121]. Chiming closely with Rogerson’s figure, Sian Nicholas suggests that an average audience of 33,000,000, based upon the Survey of Listening, a continuous survey carried out throughout the war, was probably a conservative figure for regular audiences [276, p. 66, note 22]. Given a suggested 1940 adult population of 32,777,000, this, when divided by the number of wireless licences, gives a crude figure of 3.6 adults per licence in 1940 but clearly not all of these would live in a household with a wireless. Moreover, these figures do not give an accurate indication of the total audience: homes with large families and live-in elderly relatives, factories, hospitals, offices and other venues would broaden listener numbers. Gathering in the local pub for the evening’s Nine o’clock News was also a regular event [223, p. 34]. Within the Forces other approaches were taken: an M-O contributor serving in the RAF reported on ‘Opinion-forming material impacting upon conscripts’ during April that the authorities did not provide wireless sets for barracks. Occupants therefore had to club together and purchase a set, with some 25 per cent of huts possessing a wireless. He further noted that the camp’s various NAAFIs

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had sets, with the result that a fairly large percentage of personnel heard a BBC broadcast at least once a day [146, p. 116]. Also noted by the observer was that the German news bulletins – broadcast in English – were listened to each night, and particularly Lord Haw Haw’s commentaries. The main motivation was to gain an idea of the ‘truth’, the BBC’s news output not generally believed [146, p. 116]. Additionally, in all walks of life, the impact of secondary reportage was important: ‘did you hear on the news that the RAF had . . . ’ for instance. In any event, the 33,000,000 or more citizens listening regularly to the BBC in 1940 was a captive audience insofar as propagandists were concerned; the opportunities were fully exploited to ensure that the sound picture projected in Spitfires over Britain achieved equal resonance with its listeners to news bulletins of actual combats.

BBC home news coverage Reporting the air war On weekdays there were 115 minutes of news, a total of just less than two hours per day, bulletin times printed in newspapers [416, p. 3; 419, p. 11]. BBC Home News bulletins were not broadcast every hour, but appeared at the times confirmed in Figure 4, the currency of the air fighting coverage varying as the day progressed, but with much repetition of earlier news. Air communiqu´e development and content was discussed previously (Chapter 4), and the fact that the BBC was obliged to recite the details, irrespective of the impact upon subsequent programming. However, the repetitious nature of successive BBC bulletins was not appreciated by all, HI reports confirming the difficulties of presenting fresh news items when there was insufficient material provided by the military. This was a

News bulletin

‘Currency’

0700–0715 0800–0815

Previous night’s late news from AM; and early hours’ releases Repeat previous night’s late news; early morning developments if released

1300–1315

Provided an overview of morning’s actions up until lunchtime when details provided Detailed overview of the day’s air fighting up to the latest AM bulletin Major news event each day; overview of the day’s air fighting up to that time

1800–1830 2100–2120 0000–0020 Figure 4

Latest news of the day’s air combats, but limited audience

News ‘currency’ of daily BBC bulletins

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problem generally, and not only directed at air communiqu´es; despite continued criticism from listeners, this showed little sign of improvement. For example, on 27 July a report from Cambridge attested that: ‘Constant repetition of identical or similar news in B.B.C. bulletins continue to be criticised’ [600 (27.7.1940)], whilst a similar weariness was reported from Nottingham: ‘Interest in B.B.C. bulletins has decreased on account of repetition’ [600 (2.8.1940)]; this view was repeated again, on 26 August [600 (26.8.1940)]. From London came confirmation on 7 August that: ‘News given out about our air activities, although spectacular and wholely [sic] admirable, loses effect by similarity of reports’ [600 (7.8.1940)]. On 12 August reports from Nottingham asked for fresh news to be read out at the beginning of bulletins, whilst in Birmingham there was the familiar complaint about the regurgitation of earlier news [600 (12.8.1940)]. An M-O diarist, Tilly Rice, wrote on 6 August: ‘The BBC is making painful efforts to spin out their bulletins with meticulous descriptions of RAF exploits and repetitions of ‘‘reports’’ from their observers’ [202, p. 330]. As for the content of AM releases and the broader coverage of RAF news read out in the bulletins, there were several suggestions, some of which could only be resolved by the AM. On 1 July a report from Loughborough noted one respondent who had asked for ‘brighter air communiqu´es, and likes eye-witness accounts’ [600 (1.7.1940)]; and in nearby Nottingham on 14 August, ‘Reports show a desire for more explanatory accounts of air battles’ [600 (14.8.1940)]. Also from Nottingham, and reflecting earlier frustrations with bulletin contents: ‘Many people are asking for a quicker and more complete news service of R.A.F. activity’ [600 (6.9.1940)]. Earlier, on 27 July it had been reported from Cambridge ‘that detailed descriptions of aerial dog-fights should be placed at end of news’ [600 (27.7.1940)]; and in Cardiff at the end of August, ‘that individual accounts of pilots exploits should be placed at end of news, instead of middle’ [600 (31.8.1940)]. It was not all bad news for the communiqu´e writers, for the air war had its advantages too. Two reports on 16 August confirmed that its positive progress was ameliorating concerns elsewhere. In the HI daily report on morale it was noted that: ‘Interest in the Somaliland campaign has been obscured by the ‘‘Battle for Britain’’ ’; and in Bristol, that ‘Intense interest in the air war overshadows the fighting in Somaliland’ [600 (16.8.1940)]. Despite the very variable figures shown in table two, the BBC’s audience was prepared broadly to accept the factual accuracy and content of bulletins, but with reservations. M-O confirmed that between September 1939 and 1941 the radio was the most trusted of all modes of information dissemination, and therefore of official British propaganda output [57, p. 28]. People in the southeast could see aircraft wrecks, even if not on the scale being claimed by the RAF. Allingham, who witnessed the combats at first hand, wrote in 1941 that:

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The wireless gave up being dull or even sober and became a blessed tale of triumph for a change. Twenty, thirty, forty German planes down by six o’clock. Fifty, sixty, eighty by nine, and the century up by midnight. The little old boys were getting them. But even then most of us did not quite realise how very small our Air Force was. That was made plain later and the blazing heroism of those few was understood. At that time the news was so good that at first some people doubted the wireless for the first time, but not for long. German planes began to strew the countryside. [1, p. 227] Many, however, were still not convinced by the BBC’s reports, Nicholas noting that by the end of August, 75 per cent of survey respondents had more confidence in them than they did newspaper reports [276, pp. 196–7]. Given that much of the broadcast and printed news derived from the AM’s communiqu´es – no matter how one dressed it up – this was a curious state of affairs that must have bemused newspaper editors. Figures derived from Listener Research in July established that on average, individuals heard 1.8 bulletins each day [276, p. 205]. Given a total BBC audience of c.33,000,000 the figures were as follows for the different broadcasts in July: 38 per cent for 1300 news (12.5 m); 40 per cent at 1800 (13.2 m); and 47 per cent (15.5 m) for the crucial Nine o’clock News, the most important of the day [276, p. 205]. Its primacy was undeniable affirmed M-O in 1941, its reach guaranteeing that some 15,000,000 people could be reached and immediately influenced in the main evening news at 9 PM [57, p. 28]. Although a footnote to the unfolding drama of the air battles, 13 July was the date on which BBC newsreaders announced their names for the first time, a humanising element for the cool, detached voices heard by millions over the ether [276, p. 197]. An example broadcast at midnight on 15 September was the AM’s highest claim for aircraft destroyed, Here is the midnight news, and this is Alvar Lidell reading it. Up to 10 o’clock, 175 German aircraft have been destroyed in today’s raids over this country. Today was the most costly for the German air force for nearly a month. In daylight raids, between 350 and 400 enemy aircraft were launched in two attacks against London and south-east England. About half of them were shot down. It was officially announced that by ten o’clock tonight, 175 raiders were known to have been destroyed by our fighters and anti-aircraft gunners. [631] As noted above, the BBC occasionally broadcast actuality accounts of the air fighting, whether produced by their own reporters or eyewitnesses. Actuality recordings were achieved by a specially fitted out BBC recording car – of which there were few in 1940 – that included equipment on its back seat that could be

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removed if needed. The recordings were produced by incising grooves in acetatecovered aluminium, these ready for playing, after which the recordings could be relayed to London physically, or recorded onto a fresh disc via telephone or radio transmitters and then be broadcast [334, p. 152]. The delay between recording and broadcasting was entirely due to these technological limitations of the day. A three-man crew operated the recording car: the commentator or producer, the engineer who made or ‘cut’ the 78 rpm acetate disc and an expert who managed the microphones [33, p. 253]. Such recordings were therefore reliant upon an element of good luck if an air battle was to be the focus of attention; simply being in the right area was insufficient, as Churchill discovered to his frustration. The other advantage of observing dogfights at Dover was that it was not in a forbidden area; the world’s press would shortly take up residence in many of the hotels in order to watch the action from Shakespeare Cliff. Broadcasts still had to be passed by censors, anything deemed too revealing likely to be denied clearance, thus rendering the entire effort pointless – or at least requiring that the offending passage be literally scratched out of the disc. From mid-August, American reporters were frequently infuriated by the severe restrictions on what they were able to report of dogfights above Dover. 14 July 1940 An important example of this new approach was recorded during the afternoon and broadcast later on Sunday 14 July by BBC correspondent Charles Gardner at Dover (7 m:27 s), where in recording a large air battle he introduced the ‘live’ concept for BBC listeners. It was a sobering reminder that the fighting was now on England’s doorstep, London only minutes away by aircraft. The broadcast was an innovative revelation, anticipating the live war coverage now commonplace in all conflicts. Hitherto, reports had been based upon a measured script written after the events described, and recorded in a studio or quiet location. Gardner, in a good viewing position looking out to sea [223, p. 150], revealed for the first time not only the immediacy, momentum and drama of air fighting, but also the fragmented and chaotic nature of aircraft at different heights seeking to shoot each other down. The original commentary was longer than this edited version, giving an idea of the rambling, but also rather astonishing propaganda sound picture broadcast during the evening to perhaps 15,000,000 or more BBC listeners at nine o’clock on 14 July: Well, now, the Germans are dive-bombing a convoy out into sea. There are one, two, three, four, five, six, seven German dive-bombers, Junkers 87s. There’s one going down on its target now – bomb. No, missed the ships . . . There are one, two, three, four, five, six – there are about ten German machines dive-bombing the British convoy, which is just out to sea in the Channel. I can’t see anything. No. We thought he’d got a German one at the

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top then, but now the British fighters are coming up. Yes, here they come, they come in an absolute steep dive and you can see their bombs actually leave the machines and come into the water . . . I can hear machine-gun fire but I can’t see our Spitfires. They must be somewhere there. Oh here’s one coming down now. There’s one coming down in flames. There’s somebody’s hit a German and he’s coming down; there’s a long streak – coming down completely out of control, a long streak of smoke . . . the man’s baled out by parachute . . . He’s a Junkers 87, and he’s going slap into the sea – and there he goes. Smash! A terrific column of water, and there was a Junkers 87. There’s only one man got out by parachute, so presumably there was only a crew of one in it. Now, then – oh, there’s a terrific mix-up now over the Channel. It’s impossible to tell which are our machines and which are the Germans. There’s one definitely down in this battle, and there’s a fight going on . . . you can hear the little rattles of machine-gun bullets . . . and there is definitely one German machine down, and I’m looking across the sea now I can see the little white dot of parachute as the German pilot is floating down towards the spot where his machine crashed with such a big fountain of water about two minutes ago. Well, now, everything is peaceful again for the moment. The Germans who came over in about twenty or twenty-five dive-bombers delivered their attack on the convoy, and I think they’ve made off as quickly as they came. Oh yes, I can see one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten Germans haring back towards France now for all they can go – and here are our Spitfires coming after them. There’s going to be a big fight . . . Well, that was a really hot little engagement while it lasted. No damage done, except to the Germans, who lost one machine, and the German pilot is still on the end of his parachute, though appreciably nearer the sea than he was. I can see no boat going out to pick him up, so he’ll probably have a long swim ashore . . . Oh, there’s another fight going on, away up, about twenty five, or even thirty thousand feet above our heads . . . Oh, we have just hit a Messerschmitt. Oh, that was beautiful! He’s coming right down. Yes, he’s come down. You hear those crowds? He’s finished. Oh, he’s coming down like a rocket now. An absolutely steep dive . . . No, no, the pilot’s not getting out of that one . . . I don’t think we shall actually see him crash, because he’s going into a bank of cloud. He’s smoking now. I can see smoke, although we cannot count that a definite victory because I did not see him crash . . . Oh, there are about four fighters up there, and I don’t know what they’re doing – one, two, three, four, five fighters fighting right over our head now. Now there’s one coming right down on the tail of what I think is a Messerschmitt, and I think it’s a Spitfire behind him . . . Now – hark at the machine-guns going. Hark! One, two, three, four, five, six – now there’s something coming right down on the tail of another. Here they come. Yes,

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they’re being chased home, and how they are being chased home. There are three Spitfires chasing three Messerschmitts now. Oh, boy. Look at them going . . . That is really grand. And there is a Spitfire just behind the first two – he will get them! Oh, yes. Oh boy. I’ve never seen anything so good as this! The RAF fighters have really got these boys taped. Our machine is catching up the Messerschmitt now . . . He’s got the legs of it, you know. Now right in the sights . . . I wouldn’t like to be in that first Messerschmitt. I think he’s got him . . . Yes, they’ve got him down . . . Yes, the Spitfire has pulled away from him. Yes, I think that first Messerschmitt has crashed on the coast of France all right. [622] Gardner, confused by what he had witnessed, appeared prone to the widespread belief that any RAF aircraft must be a Spitfire, for there were Hurricanes in action, one of which he mistook for a Stuka dive-bomber that had been shot down in full view (and the slow descent of its pilot). Punctuated with Gardner’s hesitations, exclamations, uncertainties and errors of identification, his style had much in common with the adrenalin-charged commentary at a football match, but was no less captivating for all that. It lacked the detached objectivity and balance that many expected from the BBC, but Gardner had only recently returned from reporting on the RAF in France where he had clearly absorbed much of their culture and was shortly to join them as a pilot himself. Clearly audible in the background were the sounds of bombs, aircraft machine-guns, anti-aircraft guns being regularly fired and the excited shouts of onlookers and nearby gunners; a faint background drone may have been the aircraft themselves. A clear victory to the RAF being projected, with little damage to the convoy, it set the propaganda tone for the ‘cricket score’ approach that was to follow in much of the media reportage during the coming months, irrespective of context. MOI censors agreed to its transmission, seemingly not taking exception to any aspect of the coverage [133, p. 220]. Opinions vary as to whether the full version, running to almost 7.5 minutes, was broadcast. Bungay [142, p. 143] and Peter Haining [214, p. 21] state that it was, whilst Thomas Hickman [223, p. 150] believes that it was edited. However, the editing advantages of magnetic tape were not available to the BBC during 1940, this undertaken instead using acetate disc machines. Hickman includes a photograph of a bank of four such machines, this suggesting that it may have been possible to edit Gardner’s recording prior to transmission [223, p. 146]. An alternative approach was to literally play elements of a recording ‘live’, so that unwanted sections were not broadcast. Hickman recounts that in December 1941, the King’s stammering seriously impaired his Christmas message recording; Churchill demanded that it be ‘doctored’ before broadcasting to the wider world. This was achieved by identifying the offending sections with a yellow grease pencil, and using a bank of eight turntables, literally transmitting the speech live, disc by disc,

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by hopping the pick-up from groove to groove [223, p. 143]. Either approach required time to undertake, as the gap between Gardner’s recording to subsequent broadcast was just over four hours [142, p. 143; 214, p. 21]. Given its potentially controversial style, it doubtless had to be assessed by the senior news editor, and perhaps more senior managers. Many listeners were enthralled by what they heard, two diary entries made following the broadcast on 14 July reflecting great enthusiasm. Perry recorded being powerfully moved by the sporting analogy adopted in the broadcast (noting the cheers when enemy aircraft were downed), and thought it a historic and amazing experience [292, pp. 12–13]. Tomlin, also planning to join the RAF, wrote in his diary on 14 July: ‘Charles Gardner’s recorded description of the RAF over the Channel was an unexpected delight. More please!’ [202, p. 306]. Its immediate impact was immense, where in factories it was the only subject of conversation during the following Monday morning [276, p. 197]. The broadcast generated a fierce debate amongst listeners in the press’s letter pages; opinion was divided between those strongly in favour and those against, the latter much in the minority. The ‘highly civilised debate’ was around two camps: those most opposed to the tone of the broadcast had had direct combat experience, whilst those encouraging Gardner’s style had not [142, pp. 143– 4]. On 15 July HI conducted a small survey in London, asking 300 people for their views, of whom almost half had listened in. The report confirmed that most were enthusiastic, the only dissenters women who disliked the sports analogy: ‘A battle isn’t a Boat Race’ and ‘I don’t like football commentaries’ [600 (15.7.1940)]. Briggs recounts a range of responses including: ‘It was quite dreadful’; ‘To broadcast a battle in which human lives are at stake is likening grim reality to that of a Derby scene’; and it was ‘revolting to all citizens’, whilst newspapers were kinder, comments including ‘inspiring reporting’, ‘grand’ and ‘brilliantly exciting’ [133, p. 220]. Brown similarly details a range of responses, either in favour or against: ‘Please tell Charles Gardner to do it again’, or ‘Bullfights are forbidden in this country. Is then the courage and selfless daring of our sons to be made into a sensational entertainment?’ [136, p. 93]. Mollie Panter-Downes wrote in her diary on 21 July that: The B.B.C. broadcast . . . came in for sharp criticism from some listeners, who complained that the commentator’s racy treatment of a life-and-death affair as though it were ‘‘an account of the Grand National or a Cup Final’’ . . . The majority of decent citizens, possibly less squeamish, sat by their radios, hanging onto their seats and cheering. [70, p. 79] HI continued to receive mostly praise about the broadcast in the days following 14 July, and reported on 20 July that in London there were ‘Some expressions of

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dismay received at press suggestion that Priestley’s and Charles Gardner’s talks should be censored’ [600 (20.7.1940)]. Vera Brittain, the writer and pacifist who had lived through the horrific losses and impact of the First World War, wrote in August about the extent to which humanity was reflected in responses to downed enemy aircrew. In the light of others’ strong reactions to Gardner’s account, her moderate words appear to be a direct comment on his broadcast, but these were made before the Luftwaffe’s attacks on the capital killed large numbers of civilians: Those orators and broadcasters who treat war as though it were a bloodsport and describe it in terms of a cup-tie final, do not represent the spirit of ordinary men and women who offer cups of tea to crashed German pilots, or go out to rescue them in small boats when they fall into the Channel. [19, p. 129] It was probably fair to say that most listeners were willing to hear further reports of air fighting, provided they were handled with greater sensitivity and toned down the sporting metaphor. In America the commentary was heard on Radio News Reel and a recording was requested [223, p. 150]. However, Philip Kaplan & Richard Collier note that the broadcast shocked American listeners who found it rather too much, Gardner’s ‘highly partisan’ account tolerated by the MOI [241, p. 162]. Brittain doubtless shared such views. Rather prematurely, in a BBC Listener Research report undertaken in the light of the controversy generated, it was discovered that several respondents’ faith in the RAF’s claims had been restored by the broadcast on 14 July [276, p. 197]. It was quickly released as a gramophone record and became a best-seller [276, p. 197], in addition to receiving press coverage including the front page of the Mirror, the following morning on 15 July in ‘Channel air fight broadcast’ with a lengthy text on the commentary [381, p. 1]. Parts of the text were featured on a two-page spread with an artist’s impression of the fighting, guided by Gardner himself, in the ILN [499, pp. 82–3]. Whilst the BBC’s senior management was equivocal about the broadcast, they decided to uphold their right to do so again [214, p. 23] in this uncharted territory [223, p. 150]. Despite cautious BBC support nothing on that scale was to be heard again for more than two years. Confirming the speed with which this decision came into effect, within a month of Gardner’s broadcast, fellow BBC reporter Robin Duff made actuality recordings at Dover on 14 and 15 August (4:13) and during air battles. Although less exuberant and more descriptive than Gardner’s recording, some elements were similar, with sounds of aircraft, anti-aircraft guns and bombs supplemented with the sounds of aircraft engines. Duff reported on a brief enemy attack over the harbour during which a balloon was attacked and an aircraft

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crashed into the sea [624; 114, p. 278]. Although not on duty, Duff witnessed from his home a Hurricane piloted by Sergeant Ray Holmes bringing down a Do17 over Victoria Station on 15 September. Duff shortly thereafter recounted his experience on the radio, and the event was covered in several publications including the ILN [507, p. 374]. Proving that everyone in range of enemy aircraft was in the front line, an unidentified family were recorded in August or September (3:40), at Crowborough, Sussex, where they were able to provide commentary to an ongoing air battle over the Kent–Sussex border. Sounds of aircraft were heard increasing and decreasing, in addition to machine-gun fire. As they followed the action a predictable narrative developed, seeking to explain and point out the aircraft that included six Spitfires and Hurricanes, that in turn were attacking ‘millions’ of German bombers, some going down in flames [626; 114, p. 278]. Pilots’ broadcasts Broadcasts by anonymous RAF fighter pilots included accounts later published in Winged Words, and those heard by listeners just before and following the Battle. Surviving recordings originally made with discs are held by the Imperial War Museum [11; 114]. Of these broadcasts the AM-approved scripts resulted in recordings made after the events, the pilot able to relax and recount his memories. It was of course impossible to record them as actual combat events. There was usually a gap between the recording being made and its broadcast, no doubt to ensure an additional security check by censors. Of those broadcast by the BBC, the following focus on fighter pilots and their experiences, ranging from the Battle of France, Dunkirk, the Battle and thence the Italian attacks in November. In June two were broadcast, but may have been recorded earlier: ‘Air log: the story of an American fighter pilot with the R.A.F.’ recounted combat experiences before the Battle had begun in earnest [11, pp. 25–8], and a confirmation that night-fighting was a necessary capability was described in ‘Bringing down a night raider – by a Flight Lieutenant’ [11, pp. 35–6]. Into July the Battle of France was still a live topic, ‘Air log: a veteran pilot re-visits France – by a Pilot Officer’, giving broad details about Hurricane pilots defending against German attacks [11, pp. 37–40]. ‘A night fight – by an Auxiliary Squadron Leader’ reminded listeners that the RAF’s Reservists protected British air space ‘round the clock’, a light-hearted account masking the realities (and the impressive transition from weekend-flyer to warrior-hero) [11, pp. 46–7]. ‘Air battle over the Channel: by a Flying Officer’ indicated the onset of the Battle as it began to develop, and set the scene for subsequent accounts [11, pp. 50–2]. Spitfire pilot, Pilot Officer H.M. Stephen was recorded on 14 July (3:55), and recounted his experiences with 74 Squadron over France, Dunkirk

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and then in the very early stages of the Battle [621; 114, p. 277]. Flight Lieutenant G.E.B. Stoney, similarly recounted combat for the BBC on 3 August (3:23), where he flew a Hurricane against about 40 ‘Junkers’ bombers attacking Dover harbour. Listeners would have been pleased to hear that four were destroyed, and six damaged in the air action, during which at one point he attacked one from 50 yards, and another at sea-level. No casualties to the Hurricane squadron might in part have been due to the Spitfires taking on Me109 escorts [623; 114, p. 277]. It was not only officers that were given BBC airtime. Two Sergeants recounted their combat experiences during August in ‘Story of a fighter Sergeant pilot’ [11, pp. 73–6] and ‘Five enemy aircraft in one day – by a Sergeant pilot’ [11, pp. 91–3]. Just before the attack on London, Flight Lieutenant Simpson was able to describe the dramatic experience of being shot down on 6 September (3:42), having just downed two Me109s. In a parachute descent from a burning fighter at 10,000 feet that lasted for some 15 minutes, Simpson was able to take in the coastal scenery as he floated above the Channel. In an anxious moment, an enemy fighter circled him as he came down, and then flew off. His landing on a cucumber frame provided the finale [629; 114, p. 279]. His story was recounted in ‘A fifteen-minute parachute drop – by a Flight Lieutenant’, but the published account suggests an August date for the broadcast [11, pp. 88–90]. ‘Air battle over London – by a Squadron Leader’, broadcast in September, was a reminder that it had moved to the capital, the RAF vital in affording protection, most famously on 15 September an account that this described [11, pp. 107–9]. In October, two broadcasts included fighter pilots, one an American: ‘Air log: two fighter pilots’ stories’ [11, pp. 133–6], and ‘Story by a Pilot Officer of the American Eagle Squadron’, recounting an experience with a British squadron on 15 September [11, pp. 142–8]. Although formed as a nascent unit, the ‘Eagles’ had yet to fight as an operational unit in September. Into November, pilots’ accounts continued to be broadcast of the summer and autumn’s events, not least because pilots had been awarded for bravery and in some instances posted to quieter areas for a rest from combat. ‘A Hurricane Squadron attacks twenty-five Junkers 87s – by a Flight Lieutenant’ had the hallmarks of an earlier period of fighting, Stukas withdrawn after 18 August following severe losses [11, pp. 176–7]. ‘The first fight with the Italian raiders – by a Canadian Flight Commander’ was a reminder that it was not only the Luftwaffe with whom the RAF had to contend, despite the inferior quality of some Italian aircraft [11, pp. 185–7]. With the Battle officially concluded, Flight Lieutenant John Nicolson, having only recently been awarded the VC, was recorded on 2 December (6:23). On 16 August he had been badly burned and wounded during combat, his VC account broadcast anonymously, despite his details appearing in the newsreels

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and press. Recorded on both sides of the disc, he gave details of being hit, attacking the enemy fighter in a blazing aircraft, and on side two, baling out, being circled by an enemy fighter, his aching wounds and the landing (but not the unfortunate fact that he was shot by a Home Guard Sergeant) [625; 114, p. 278]. Winged Words published the story as ‘An unusual combat and bale-out – by a Flight Lieutenant’ [11, pp. 188–91], the impact of (self?) and official censorship resulting in a smoothed-over account of his now tranquil descent by parachute: When I was 100 feet from the ground I saw a cyclist and heard him ring his bell. I was surprised to hear the bicycle-bell and realised that I had been coming down in absolute silence. I bellowed at the cyclist, but I don’t suppose he heard me. Finally, I touched down in the field and fell over. Fortunately it was a still day. My parachute just floated down and stayed down without dragging me along, as they sometimes do. [11, pp. 190–1] Also in December was broadcast the ‘Story by a Canadian Spitfire Squadron Leader’, that in common with accounts from the Dominions reminded listeners that the RAF was a multinational force [11, pp. 222–5]. Returning to Italian raids, an unidentified fighter pilot detailed on 6 December (4:05) his experience of an air battle with the Italians over the Channel [627; 114, p. 279], and published as ‘A Squadron Leader describes his squadron’s battle with the Italians’ [11, pp. 195–6]. The BBC again recorded Pilot Officer H.M. Stephen, this time on 15 December (5:38), having survived the previous months’ air battles. Recorded on both sides of the disc, on this occasion he recounted shooting down two German fighters before breakfast, followed by two bombers after lunch in which 21 out of 38 enemy aircraft had been brought down [628; 114, p. 279]. Stephen was the first home defence fighter pilot to be awarded the DSO ‘in the field’, this announced both in the ILN [519, p. 848] and The Aeroplane [495, p. 731] during late December. Recorded interviews with RAF pilots who had flown in the Battle continued to be produced and broadcast, but these were undeniably ‘cold’ propaganda. Pilots’ recordings detailing aspects of air combat included Squadron Leader Johnstone ( January 1941), published as a ‘Talk by the C.O. of an auxiliary fighter squadron’ [11, pp. 232–6]; also in January 1941, ‘A station commander looks back – by a Group Captain of Fighter Command’ [11, pp. 237–43]; and recollections by Sergeant Kingaby (3:05) [114, p. 280]. ‘Adventures of a New Zealand fighter pilot in the R.A.F.’ was broadcast in February 1941 [11, pp. 256–61]; the author of The Last Enemy, Flying Officer Hillary (July 1941 (12:36) & August 1941 (13:38)) gave a detailed talk about combat experiences [114, pp. 280–1]; and Group Captain Peel (September 1943) recalled the Battle and paid tribute to the ground crews [114, p. 281]. We Speak from the Air included anonymous

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broadcasts by fighter pilots made in 1941: ‘Fighter pilot’, actually Bob Stanford Tuck, detailed his various claims and experiences [10*, pp. 12–16], whilst ‘Dogfights over England’ conveyed Douglas Bader’s experiences during the Battle [10*, pp. 45–9]. In both cases the details are mostly concerned with dogfights and claims. Wireless personalities and the air war In addition to news bulletins and recorded interviews, the range of other BBC programmes was wide, a number of regular features providing opportunities for discussions of the air war. Lord Beaverbrook as the Minister for Aircraft Production featured at various times. HI on 25 July recorded: ‘Six regions report that Beaverbrook’s broadcast was very welcome. His newsy style is contrasted favourably with drearier broadcasts, and the report of progress was comforting’ [600 (25.7.1940)]; and on 30 July, ‘Beaverbrook’s statistics and confidence have had heartening effect’ [600 (30.7.1940)]. Air Marshal Sir Philip Joubert also broadcast frequently, his talks drawing positive responses from listeners. Joubert had been invited by the AM to present a talk on 1 April – celebrating the RAF’s 25th anniversary – thereafter presenting the Air Force section of the War Commentaries, every three weeks [238, pp. 193–7]. In addition to his daytime work on night defence, this developed rapidly into a weekly slot that included a broadcast to the United States in response to which he received letters from American listeners. A friend of CBS’s Ed Murrow, Joubert was pressed into broadcasting to New York, and for a time he contributed weekly a 700-word article for an MOI magazine in America. Joubert confirms that his pre-broadcast drafts were often so heavily censored in blue pencil by all three Services’ IOs that in a fit of pique he wrote a 1500-word piece about Christmas shopping in December, thereafter being dropped from regular broadcasting! Typical responses to his broadcasts as revealed to HI included, on 9 July, just before the first massed Luftwaffe attack: ‘reports show that Air Marshal Joubert’s explanation [about vague air raid details] had a good effect on morale. More confidence in R.A.F. noticed, state observers, since this talk’ [600 (9.7.1940)]; on 26 July: ‘Joubert’s broadcast was widely appreciated. His accents are friendly yet determined and there is evidence that the public has increasing confidence in his authority’ [600 (26.7.1940)]; and on 16 August: ‘Joubert’s broadcast had many favourable comments and several reports enquire why he does not broadcast more frequently’ [600 (16.8.1940)]. On 3 October (4:15), in the regular slot for War Commentaries after the main news at 9.20 PM on Thursdays, to an audience of 7,200,000 he talked about the challenges of air defence [133, p. 301]. At pains to explain the difficulties of defending against night-bomber attacks, he confirmed that honesty was a better policy than seeking to mislead people; he also commented on the reasons for not divulging the locations of German bomb damage, how the RAF deployed its fighter assets and the importance of

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protecting industrial centres [630]. Perry lavished praise on Joubert’s broadcast and noted the efforts being made to counter night attacks. Despite the evident censorship restrictions in place, Perry felt that Joubert had conveyed much useful information in a carefully neutral fashion [292, p. 177]. Joubert also broadcast on 24 October in which he discussed the RAF’s progress in developing improved versions of the Spitfire and Hurricane that would have better armament and all-round capability than current models of those aircraft [512, pp. 570–1]. Among a wealth of talent in 1940, the BBC had two highly popular broadcasters who attracted large audiences. Churchill as the Prime Minister was one, audiences for his speeches, at seven out of ten of all citizens [223, p. 31]. Yorkshire novelist J.B. Priestley was the other, a socialist with outspoken views that irritated some Conservative MPs. Between them Churchill and Priestley broadcast on the BBC at different times, on over 100 occasions during the war [223, p. 38]. Priestley’s Sunday Postscripts was a regular and popular Sunday evening programme at 9.15 PM, attracting an audience of 10,000,000 [223, p. 37]. The transcripts of his talks were published at the end of 1940 [71]. The first programme was broadcast on 5 June, the last in the first series on 20 October. Priestley was therefore in an ideal position to range across the most topical issues of latter-1940 but it is surprising that he rarely made reference to the air fighting, preferring instead to discuss the more contentious social issues of the day, an attitude that increasingly brought him into conflict with senior politicians and those opposed to his socialist views. As the air war developed, he made passing references to it: on 9 June he briefly contrasted the Nazi propaganda film Baptism of Fire with the British The Lion Has Wings feature film. The former dealt with the invasion of Poland and was intended as a warning to all neutral countries that might oppose Hitler’s plans; the latter showed ‘our airmen as likeable human beings, cracking jokes with their wives and sweethearts’ [71, p. 7]. He concluded the talk with a reminder for the Germans that otherwise peaceable men (and perhaps anticipating the RAF) ‘have their hour of greatness, when weakness suddenly towers into strength; when ordinary easy-going tolerant men rise in their anger and strike down evil like the angels of the wrath of God’ [71, p. 8]. On 28 July he told listeners about a young Pilot Officer bomber pilot who had been missing in the North Sea with his crew, but had been rescued. In giving a broad outline of the lives of such young men, he touched upon the many places that they attacked and what it must be like to fly on missions. He reminded listeners about the poor treatment meted out to warriors at the end of the First World War, then applauded the RAF’s airmen, their devotion to duty and wondered where the country would be ‘if these young men of the R.A.F. were taken off the air’, as had been suggested to him by some listeners because of his on-air political comments [71, p. 43].

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Despite the air war’s domination of the news, Priestley made no references to it until 25 August, when he reflected upon ways for people to send themselves ‘half barmy’. ‘You do this’ he suggested ‘By chaining your mind to the procession of events, by reading in ten different newspapers and hearing in five news broadcasts about the same eleven Heinkels and seven Messerschmitts . . . by opening your mind to nothing but idiotic rumours or lying enemy propaganda’ [71, p. 54]. Slightly later in his talk he returned to the theme, and a recent adventure in Wales that he briefly described. Agreeing that it did not amount to much of an adventure he suggested ‘it’s a bit of a change from the Spitfire-Messerschmitt series’, that he was clearly finding tiresome [71, p. 57]. On 8 September he briefly paid tribute to the RAF: ‘it is certain that our airmen have already found a shining place for ever in the world’s imagination, becoming one of those bands of young heroes, creating a saga, that men can never forget’ [71, p. 69]. The 6 October found him considering the plight of women during the current attacks on London, and especially those for whom the war had left them with little to do. He developed his theme to consider the importance of pulling together and making sacrifices for the good of all. Citing the example of ‘young men, for whom you and I have done nothing, [who] tear up and down the sky in their Spitfires to protect us’, he argued that listeners should give and receive in equal measure [71, p. 90]. Priestley, not having dwelt at length on the RAF’s fighter pilots in his talks, offered a fitting conclusion to his Postscripts early in his final broadcast of the first series: ‘Now this period, I think, came to an end with the defeat of the German Air Force over England by the R.A.F’ [71, p. 97]. It was a fair assessment.

Contribution Despite concerns about maintaining impartiality (and attempts to secure a degree of independence from MOI control), the BBC was a key vehicle for broadcasting the news during the Battle, its staff willing to assist where they could in projecting propaganda and sustaining home front morale. Its massive audience both in Britain and abroad ensured that the RAF’s daily claims for enemy aircraft destroyed were heard in regular news bulletins, in addition to censored accounts of air fighting. Eyewitness recordings of the air battles were featured, as were pilots’ accounts both during the Battle and thereafter. Personalities including Churchill, Joubert, Beaverbrook, Sinclair and Priestley were able to set the events in a favourable context through broadcasts, the Few’s valour and prowess repeatedly affirmed as the Battle progressed. The content of BBC broadcasts relied heavily upon the AM and senior politicians, and it is hard to imagine how perceptions of the Battle might have developed in the face of sceptical BBC news content. Few dispute the vital propaganda role performed by the BBC both during the Battle and throughout the war.

Plate 1 Diagram showing the organisation of layered British air defences, but omitting any references to the RDF chain, from the 1941 Battle of Britain pamphlet. The Luftwaffe had little choice but to attack this system head on [93, p. 9].

Plate 2 Rolls Royce advertisement for its superb Merlin engine with Spitfires, from The Aeroplane magazine, 9 August 1940, as the Battle began to intensify [476, f.p. 142].

Plate 3 Pilots at readiness, playing draughts. Post-war, the photograph has been variously captioned as showing aircrew from the ill-fated 264 Squadron flying Defiants, but also 610 Squadron pilots at Biggin Hill. The original caption gave no details other than to confirm they were fighter pilots [101, pl. 16].

Plate 4 Eric Kennington’s 1940 portrait of Flight Lieutenant A.G. ‘Sailor’ Malan, a South African who led 74 Squadron from 8 August 1940. An outstanding fighter-leader, Malan was awarded both the DFC and DSO during 1940, with over six claims confirmed during the Battle itself [10, pl. 29].

Plate 5 19 and 616 Squadron fighter pilots ‘scrambling’ for the camera at Fowlmere on 21 September 1940. This was one of a number of photographs taken by the Air Ministry for propaganda purposes. A Spitfire sits off to the right, its Merlin engine ready to be fired up by the accumulator trolley [31, f.p. 65].

Plate 6 Churchill’s 20 August 1940 ‘psalm form’ speech extract including his tribute to the Few [641]. (Reproduced with permission of Curtis Brown Ltd, London on behalf of The Estate of Winston Churchill.)

Plate 7 A poster that said it all, making use of Churchill’s epigraph to the Few, a cropped photograph of five aircrew (plate 16) and photographs of crashed German aircraft. A variation included the five aircrew and Churchill’s abbreviated epigraph against a blue, cloudy sky, but no German aircraft [633].

Plate 8 Heinkel He111 ablaze during an attack as recorded by a 16-mm machine-gun cine-camera still taken from an RAF fighter. Of poor quality, this widely used footage also appeared in magazines, newspapers and newsreels, the original confirming that the large fragments were not later additions for propaganda [37, f.p. 150].

Plate 9 Punch’s ‘The Crammer’ appeared on 21 August 1940, Goebbels seeking to enlighten Mussolini about distorting aircraft claims, a dispute that was by late-August raging on both sides of the Atlantic [457, p. 189]. (Reproduced with permission of Punch Ltd.)

Plate 10 A Sergeant pilot discusses a recent dogfight with a Flight Lieutenant colleague, the socially and rank-conscious RAF often leaving such formalities aside at dispersal where officers and men waited to be scrambled. Many Sergeants were subsequently commissioned. This image was widely used by newspapers and magazines [101, pl. 24].

Plate 11 ‘A Polish Sergeant Pilot’ drawn on 19 September 1940 by Cuthbert Orde, but actually Sergeant Josef Frantisek, a Czechoslovak Hurricane pilot with 303 Squadron. He was one of the RAF’s highest scoring pilots during the Battle with 17 victories. He died on 8 October during a routine patrol, less than three weeks after Orde’s portrait [10, pl. 47].

Plate 12 32 Squadron pilots and Hurricane at Hawkinge, 29 July 1940, where all but Pilot Officer Keith Gillman (second from left) survived the war [101, pl. 1].

Plate 13 Pilot Officer Keith Gillman in flying helmet, at Hawkinge, 29 July 1940. This image was widely used including as the front page for Picture Post, but he was killed in action over the Channel on 25 August 1940 [101, pl. 23].

Plate 14 Punch’s ‘A new game for Neptune’ cartoon, capturing British propagandists’ preferred view of the air fighting. Published on 28 August 1940 it typified the highquality graphic work published by Punch [458, p. 215]. (Reproduced with permission of Punch Ltd.)

Plate 15 Aircraft part manufacturers’ advertisements in The Aeroplane magazine of 6 December 1940, the Spitfire and Hurricane featuring frequently during latter-1940 [493, ad.p. 81].

Plate 16 Photograph of five aircrew that was used for the Air Ministry’s ‘Never was so much owed by so many to so few’ poster. The image of pilots and air gunners was originally entitled ‘Sergeant pilots’ and had appeared during September 1940, if not earlier [101, pl. 25].

Plate 17 Pilot Officer Thomas Neil’s portrait was typical of many more produced by Eric Kennington in 1940. The DFC is visible beneath his ‘wings’ [10, pl. 28].

Plate 18 Battle of Britain oil painting by Paul Nash, 1941 [75, pl. 29].

Plate 19 Air Fight over Portland oil painting by Richard Eurich, 1940 [10, pl. 31].

Plate 20 Spitfire cockpit as used in newspapers and magazines, often to support Spitfire Fund campaigns. Revealing its complex instrumentation could only add to the aura surrounding the ‘fighter boys’ who flew it, and its stable mate the Hurricane [101, pl. 11].

Plate 21 Graphic illustration of an RAF fighter’s attack on a seemingly unresponsive Luftwaffe Me109 formation, from the 1941 Battle of Britain pamphlet [93, p. 29].

Plate 22 Front cover of 1941 Canadian Battle of Britain pamphlet, complete with contrails [93].

Plate 23 Front cover of Puffin’s Battle of Britain book, 1941, using text abridged by Garnett from the official pamphlet and Gardner’s illustrations [34]. (Reproduced by permission of Penguin Books UK Ltd)

Plate 24 William Rothenstein’s portrait of Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding, dated December 1939, was less striking than the more vivid technique adopted by Kennington for his portraits of young fighter pilots [10, pl. 10].

6 Finest Hour

‘Hot’ propaganda: the press Rogerson accurately predicted the important link between the press, propaganda and morale, arguing that the press would prove an essential vehicle for reassuring the public about successes in the field and reverses of fortune [79, p. 99]. It did so not only through persuasive headlines, articles and editorial comment, but also – notably in the tabloids – through the clever use of captioned photographs and cartoons (Chapter 7). Newspapers had traditionally enjoyed an important place in the relationship between subtle propaganda projection and their readers, strong messages conveyed through leading articles, usually to those already in sympathy with such views [79, pp. 86–7]. This extended to adequately catering for the social complexity of the public during the war years, a task willingly assumed by a diverse range of newspaper and magazine proprietors [135; 181, chs 4–6]. Despite this, with the war well underway by 1941, M-O confirmed the press’s declining influence on matters of trust because of ‘the saturation tendency’, confidence in newspapers diminished in part because of their political bias [57, pp. 20–8]. News and editorial output had been achieved despite the reduced availability of paper for newspaper commentary. At the outset of war newspapers had shrunk in size relative to pre-war issues, a reflection of reduced sales of advertising space. In common with the book industry and magazines, newspapers suffered severely from the shortage of paper as war became entrenched, the loss of supplies from Norway exacerbating the situation. Editors were thus obliged to maximise the available space in a reduced number of pages, managing in the main to meet the challenge. Government demands for space to carry advertisements had also to be accommodated [253, p. 449]. By 1940 Britain’s main daily newspapers amounted to some ten titles, including the Communist Party’s Daily Worker, and the Star, a mainstream title with a small circulation more akin to a regional daily. The ABC obtained daily 134

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newspaper sales figures for the period January–June 1939 [293, pp. 65–6], these given here in addition to those provided by Cecil Harmsworth King. He was a wartime Mirror director and key agent in forging that paper’s editorial style during the 1930s, providing these circulation details in a letter to Lady Cripps on 18 April 1942 [245, p. 311]. Of the other eight, the Daily Express and the Daily Mirror were close competitors in terms of sales, the daily circulation figures for the Express in 1939 being 2,510,019 [293, p. 65], and in 1942, 2.7 m per day [245, pp. 312–13]; the Mirror’s figures in 1939 stood at 2,500,000, as reported by its owners [293, p. 65], but had dropped by 1942, to 1.9 m, suggesting that the 1939 figure was misleadingly high [245, pp. 312–13]. In Harmsworth King’s view both the Mirror and the Express were the most important papers for men and women aged 41 and below – also the people most likely to be serving in the military [245, p. 311]. Both papers sold for one penny, but the Express used a broadsheet format, a 1940 issue being comprised of eight pages, whilst the tabloid Mirror ran to 12 pages. Both sold advertising space and carried some cartoons and photographs, the Express using them more sparingly. Thereafter, the editorial differences between them were clearer: Lord Beaverbrook had created and owned both the Daily Express and Sunday Express, his ministerial role leaving little doubt about both titles’ political allegiance to the Conservatives, and strong support for Churchill. It was significant that his son Flight Lieutenant Max Aitken, was an RAF fighter pilot in 601 Squadron, and would go on to be a decorated hero with the DFC and DSO [358, p. 6]. The result was a lively and patriotic editorial style that managed to consider important news stories in a sober and detailed fashion, an approach established during the 1930s where it captured a sense of ‘vim and drive’, and was the first London paper to include news on its front page using banner headlines [135, p. 101]. Those large headlines and sub-heading fonts resulted in a style that eased reading, a point well made by comparing The Times’ column layouts during the same period. As a paper of the Left with strong Labour sympathies, the Mirror was very different in tone to the Express, its early exploitation of strip cartoons including ‘Jane’, immensely popular, as were the frequent photographs of showgirls, and images of young women in bathing costumes and similar attire. Strikingly, almost two-thirds of its readers lived in the south-east in 1939 [135, p. 102]. Numerous photographs were used to supplement ‘simple and lively stories’, often explained only by a brief caption [135, p. 103]. Headlines were often large and in thick typeface, that usually dominated the front page. Often replete with ‘human interest’ stories, it featured a women’s page, and Bromley confirms that by 1943 women represented 49 per cent of its readership, 42 per cent of these aged 45 or under [135, p. 102]. It provided commentary on various issues, some in ‘Cassandra’s’ popular and influential column. Zec’s often-harsh cartoons captured the essence of the trials of latter 1940 as they unfolded. During 1939 Churchill contributed to the Mirror, in part a meeting of minds over

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their mutual loathing of Chamberlain’s appeasement of Hitler and the Nazis [245, p. 6]. Politicians Clement Attlee and Herbert Morrison both wrote for the Mirror, at times using the paper as a medium for inciting popular responses to issues of the day. Viewed with hindsight the wartime Mirror most closely echoed modern newspaper tabloid layouts and formats, and was arguably Britain’s first tabloid newspaper [135, p. 97]. Its populist style was, however, one of its propaganda strengths, and there is no doubting its huge influence amongst many British readers, both working- and middle-class, and the immense value to the RAF and AM of its air war coverage. Performing below the Express and Mirror in circulation figures, three titles occupied broadly the same territory, but achieved around one million sales less a day, each. These three, the Daily Herald, Daily Mail and News Chronicle all sold for one penny, were broadsheets, and ran to six pages with advertisements. Photographs, cartoons and maps were included, but not to the extent seen in the Mirror. Large headlines were common on the front pages, a mix of different articles and sub-headings allowing for a wide range of coverage. The Daily Herald in 1942 sold 1.6 m copies [245, pp. 312–13] and according to Harmsworth King, was controlled by the Trades Union Congress [245, p. 312]. Its editorial policy was guided both by the Congress and Labour Party, the newspaper’s origins deriving from its initial role as a strike bulletin; its readership was overwhelmingly working-class [135, p. 98]. In 1896 the then Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury, had privately commented on the newly launched Mail that it was a newspaper produced and read by officeboys; but that was perhaps its real strength [181, p. 9]. Continued success meant that by 1939 its sales stood at 1,532,683 [293, p. 65], and by 1942, 1.45 m [245, pp. 312–13]. Harmsworth King wrote in 1942 that Esmond Rothermere’s control resulted in the Mail following an erratic Conservative editorial policy, because he found it difficult to remain interested in any topic [245, p. 311]. Rothermere had gained his control by buying the paper through the sale of Lord Northcliffe’s Associated Newspapers in the early 1920s. The News Chronicle sold in 1939, 1,298,757 copies [293, p. 65]; a similar figure was achieved in 1942, at 1.2 m [245, pp. 312–13]. Both the Chronicle and the Star, the latter with a circulation of 488,119 in 1939 [293, p. 65], were virtually owned by Cadbury, its liberal editorial policy reflecting this [245, p. 312]. Those national dailies with the lowest sales figures were the Daily Sketch, Daily Telegraph (and Morning Post) and The Times, none of these breaching the circulation figure of one million during the early war years. Despite their relative positions they were very different in content and style, even if they had more in common politically. For example, Harmsworth King expressed the view in 1942 that the Sketch and Telegraph frequently mirrored each other editorially for the simple reason that Lord Camrose, the owner of the latter, was the elder brother of Kemsley Camrose, who managed the former [245, p. 312]. The Sketch, however, managed sales of 700,000 in 1942, whereas the Telegraph during the same

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period sold 650,000 [245, pp. 312–13]. The tabloid Sketch cost one penny and comprised 12 pages, with photographs, cartoons and advertisements. Its editorial style was to use large headlines and to carry stories in a non-detailed style, akin to the Mirror’s approach. The Telegraph cost one penny, was a broadsheet of six pages, but contained very few photographs, cartoons or advertisements. It was not populist in tone and tended more to The Times’ approach with sober headlines and lengthier, more detailed text. These two newspapers were generally geared towards the upper classes where the educated elite probably had more time to read the detailed articles in the ‘intelligent or ‘‘class’’ press’ [135, p. 98]. That stately ‘grey old lady’, The Times, occupied a special place in the affections of the press, with a pedigree dating from 1785. Its broadsheet format of ten pages cost twopence, a reflection in part of the costs of providing relatively detailed news articles, and of maintaining correspondents and writers, but also the relative affluence of its readership. It featured very few photographs, but did use maps to show strategic contexts; cartoons were rare, and advertising space was available. A more different approach to the breezy Mirror’s style could not be imagined. The Times eschewed all attempts at populism, its front page devoted to long, densely packed columns of birth, death and legal announcements, that would not have appeared stylistically out of place in the 1800s. Even on its second page – and thereafter – news items and articles were striking mostly because of the lack of chunky headlines, small sub-headings sufficing to explain content. Even by the standards of 1940 the result was a dense, text-rich daily diet of news detail, the like of which few, in truth, would find the time to read and fully digest. The Times’ 1942 sales figure of 180,000 [245, pp. 312–13] was less than several London and provincial dailies, yet it remains an important source of information – notably in its often full publication of AM communiqu´es – that were all too frequently bowdlerised to remove details in the tabloids. Britain’s Sunday newspapers represented a specialist market, and one which retained the potential to wield enormous propaganda influence simply because readers had more time to rest and digest the news. Eleven titles appeared regularly, ranging in sales from some four million at the top end, to only 200,000 at the other. The following figures from 1942 are again derived from Harmsworth King, but he reminded his letter’s recipient that they were estimates [245, pp. 312–13]. The Conservative News of the World and The People dominated the Sunday papers much in the manner of the Express and the Mirror during the week. The News of the World in 1939 sold 3,750,000 copies [293, p. 65], and by 1942 enjoyed staggering sales of 4.5 m [245, p. 312] – no wartime paper came close to that figure. It was an immensely popular broadsheet with wide appeal, offering a mixture of news, entertainment, sports coverage and serial features. Harmsworth King noted that its editorial policy was guided by Major Davies, and striking for the lack of a definite line on any issue [245, p. 312]. Prominent

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entertainers and politicians were nevertheless provided with a platform: Leslie Hore-Belisha, who was briefly the Secretary of State for War, was contracted to write a column following his resigning as a Cabinet member in February, his column believed to have been read by 16,000,000 people each week [293, pp. 15–17]. Influence on that scale was priceless to propagandists, whether or not they agreed with the political, cultural and editorial preferences of the host paper. The People was highly successful, its 1939 sales of 3,000,000 [293, p. 65], surpassed in 1942, at 3.5 m [245, p. 312]. That paper not only took a ‘people’s’ view of events and carried many stories of everyday heroism, actions and experiences on the home front, but also extolled the courage of those awarded VCs during the air fighting. It sought principally to entertain, and in not being under pressure to provide ‘breaking news’ – an advantage for all Sunday papers – it focused instead upon a range of regular features aimed to divert readers from the drudgery of war. This paper too, controlled by Lord Southwood, in Harmsworth King’s view was also reluctant to offer a strong editorial line on any subject [245, p. 312]. For propagandists, this provided latitude for projecting key messages – always the most effective form of propagation. At the next level of sales the Sunday Pictorial and the Sunday Express were significant players, the former the sister-paper to the Mirror, the latter, the Express. Despite their dominance of the weekday sales their weekend counterparts were less successful, the Pictorial selling 1.9 m copies each Sunday in 1942 [245, p. 312], the Sunday Express, 1,485,141 in 1939 [293, p. 65], and in 1942, 1.7 m [245, p. 312]. The Pictorial had been given the same ‘shock treatment’ as the Mirror, becoming a ‘sensational organ of the Left’ [245, p. 5]. Other Sunday papers included, in order of sales, Empire News where in 1942 it reached 1.4 m [245, p. 312]; the Sunday Chronicle at 950,000 also in 1942 [245, p. 312]; the Sunday Dispatch whose circulation in 1939 was 823,692 [293, p. 65], and in 1942, 950,000 [245, p. 312]; and the Sunday Graphic with 700,000 sales in 1942 [245, p. 312]. Sales at half a million or below included the Co-Op owned, Leftist Reynold’s News, that in 1942 was 500,000 [245, p. 312]; The Sunday Times doing much better than its weekly daily with 350,000 sales in 1942 [245, p. 312]; and The Observer at 200,000 in the same year [245, p. 312]. Of the Sunday papers, Harmsworth King confirmed that The Sunday Times, Graphic, Chronicle and Empire News were controlled by Lord Kemsley, the Observer in the ownership of the Co-Operative Movement [245, p. 312]. London and provincial newspapers were significant in projecting more local news and information, numerous titles including the Birmingham Mail, Bristol Evening Post, Chichester Observer, Evening Express (Liverpool), Evening News (London), Evening News (Portsmouth) & Southern Daily Mail, Evening Standard (London), Glasgow Evening Times, Kent Messenger, Leeds Mercury & Yorkshire Post, Liverpool Echo, Sussex Daily News and the Yorkshire Evening Post [293, p. 66]. In areas near air battles and the sites of aircraft wrecks, these too would pick up

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on the latest news, keeping local readerships abreast of that day’s air fighting, and feeding some material and photographs to the nationals. Evening papers in front-line areas had the advantage of breaking news items that the nationals could not release until the following morning. On occasion, the collected articles and images were later published as books [32; 55; 72]. The scale of British newspaper output during the official 16 weeks of the Battle was impressive: given that there were ten weekday titles each week, this equalled 960 individual issues of weekday and Saturday newspapers during this period. 176 separate Sunday issues represented the 11 titles regularly printed. Taken together, 1136 individual issues of national newspapers amounted to vast potential for propaganda dissemination. For example, through a sheer combined daily sales mass of c.5,000,000 (or c.480,000,000 sales during 16 weeks), the Express and Mirror alone were able to dominate the newspaper industry during the war, their support essential to Churchill and his Cabinet if pro-government propaganda was to be successfully projected. Even taken individually, at the top end of sales, the Mirror and Sunday Pictorial amounted to a total of c.271,360,000, based upon the 1939 and 1942 figures, respectively. Given the 1942 figures, even at the lower end of total circulation The Times and Sunday Times alone amounted to 22,880,000 copies potentially being purchased during the 16-week Battle, representing 112 individual issues. These figures were completely outshone by the 60,000,000 copies sold of the Sunday News of the World. This does not account for regular secondary readers within a family, and the discussion of items in the newspapers. That said, M-O noted in 1941 that a quarter of the adult population read no daily newspaper [57, p. 21], a figure of perhaps 8,000,000 people. The other key issue was that of trust in what was printed. The scale of the problem following a series of disasters during the Norwegian campaign in April meant that by mid-July, only one in ten viewed the press positively [276, p. 56]. This suggested that only about 3.2 million people were willing to believe what they read, many seemingly buying newspapers not for the news, but for more light-hearted, distracting features. British newspapers were in any event a widespread, cheap and well-established means of communicating information, but subject to censorship through controlled communiqu´es from the AM, and MOI scrutiny. Based upon these, regular readers were able to form an impression of war progress, provided as just noted, reports were trusted and not viewed as blatant propaganda. An advantage for newspapers was the relative immediacy of reportage in that news breaking during the previous day would be picked up by the press; more of a challenge for newsreel, film and weekly publications. Newspapers reported details of combats, ‘scores’ and other information on a daily basis – if slightly behind the BBC news – but were often restricted from presenting a fuller picture because of the strategic and tactical fluidity that was not always easily rendered in print. It therefore remained a challenge to present a series of seemingly unrelated and disjointed air combats

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and skirmishes, day by day, and yet to retain some freshness and continuity in approach. A crucial audience for newspaper output was the front-line personnel of the RAF, whose sustained high morale was essential if the Luftwaffe were to be checked. The extent to which members of the RAF had access to newspapers was revealed in a M-O report by an observer working with ground-crew conscripts at an RAF station. His observations about the reading habits of personnel were illuminating, not least because they refer to the period just after Germany’s invasion of Norway, only a few months before the Battle began. His first and most striking point was that wireless broadcasts and newspapers, despite cynicism and scepticism on the part of recipients, helped form opinions in the barracks [146, pp. 115–16]. Conscripts had access to a reading room containing all the dailies, but about 20 per cent bought their own copies of leading newspapers. The observer believed that probably 90 per cent of the conscripts read a daily newspaper, several copies circulating throughout a barrack block. The Mirror was easily the most popular daily, with some 60 per cent of all papers sold being that title, followed by the Herald (15 per cent), Express (ten per cent), the News Chronicle (seven per cent) and the Telegraph (three per cent). Neither The Times nor the Sketch appears to have been read in the barracks. Sundays – the day when most time was spent reading the news – saw the News of the World, Sunday Pictorial and Sunday Express as the most popular papers in the barracks [146, p. 115]. Flying Officer Art Donahue, an American flying with the RAF noted that all the London papers were provided in the Mess dining-hall [27, p. 122]. Such pilots could hardly have been ignorant of the press’s positive views of them.

Warrior-heroes From the very start of the Battle the RAF’s valorous prowess was being affirmed by the front-page headlines, their selfless – if anonymous – determination to engage the Luftwaffe at all points not in doubt, irrespective of the scale of the enemy’s formations. For instance, on 15 July a ‘60-minute air battle off Dover’ [420, p. 1] was reported in the Telegraph, followed on 20 July by the Mirror’s ‘150 planes in fight’ [384, p. 1], and again in the Mirror with ‘70-plane fight at coast’ [389, p. 1]. As the Luftwaffe’s determined assaults gathered pace from mid-August the air battles came increasingly to dominate the front pages, considerable glory being reflected upon the RAF’s fighter pilots in turning the assaults. The Express reported ‘Biggest air raids of all’ [361, p. 1], with ‘R.A.F. smash up Nazis’ biggest onslaught’ in the Telegraph three days later [421, p. 1], and ‘Clouds of R.A.F. planes – Nazis’ reported by the Mirror [405, p. 1]. The attack on Croydon aerodrome, Britain’s main interwar civil airport, and in 1940 a fighter airfield, was widely reported: ‘Croydon avenged: not one got back’

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amply conveyed the sense of readers’ righteous anger satisfied, reported the Mirror [405, p. 1]. As the Battle gained in intensity – the RAF coming under heavier pressure and strain – the newspapers continued to extol the fighter pilots’ successes: ‘Biggest defeat of Nazis so far’ and ‘Fighters ‘‘get the lot’’ ’ proclaimed the Telegraph’s front page on 19 August [422, p. 1]. In two versions of the Mirror’s front page from 30 August, one confirmed that ‘200 Nazi raiders are beaten’, the other that ‘200 raiders scattered, pursued’ [416, p. 1]. Into September, by which time the RAF were in severe difficulty, the Sunday Express confirmed on its 1 September front page that ‘Hitler throws fiercest air attack against us’ and ‘The blow that is meant to break Britain down’ [469, p. 1]. Offering a denouement to the weekend’s air fighting the Telegraph was able to report: ‘Planes litter countryside – Waves of bombers’ [424, p. 1]. A final verdict on the air fighting reached its apotheosis during the massed attacks against London on 15 September, which received enormous press attention, the RAF drawing high praise. ‘Germans admit that our fighters surprised them yesterday’ [497, p. 1] and ‘Spitfires ambush raiders’ [363, p. 1] supported the public’s view that the ‘fighter boys’ were in a class of their own in defending Britain. ‘Massed day attack on London smashed’ [427, p. 1], ‘Greatest day for RAF’ [370, p. 1] and the three headlines on the Herald’s front page all confirmed the same news: ‘RAF triumphs in biggest air battles of war’; ‘Raiders chased back to the Channel’; and ‘RAF puts Goering in shade’ [367, p. 1]. A key leitmotif both during and after the Battle was the portrayal of the RAF’s pilots as being well trained, brave, cheerful and above all, effective (Plate 10). Glamorous technocrats, several named RAF fighter pilots were the focus of considerable public appreciation and adulation that progressively veered towards a cult of warrior-heroism. The AM was cautious about such portrayals and officially at least, resisted the notion of aces in the sense of individual, high-scoring pilots (typically credited with five or more aircraft, whether as single ‘kills’ or a combination of shares) being highlighted for popular attention. A concern was that morale would suffer if one or two pilots were singled out for press attention, with the remainder overlooked. Overy agrees that following the Battle the RAF were keen to maintain a level of anonymity for its pilots, senior officers concerned about the problems created by allowing a few to be feted as heroes [284, p. 129]. Sir Kingsley Wood, the Secretary of State for Air, had earlier justified the rationale for such a position before his replacement in May, in response to concerns raised in France by war correspondents including Gardner. He confirmed that as pilots were part of the RAF, it was not any individual that should be singled out for press attention, but the Service as a whole [33, p. 29]. The policy was confirmed by Austin, the AM decreeing that individual pilots’ names should not be mentioned in the daily media, except when they were decorated or named as casualties [13, p. 26]. Pilots’ anonymity largely held sway as the

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AM stuck to its formal policy as battle progressed, very few named individuals with accompanying photographs receiving extensive coverage. This was not to refuse to provide photographs and access to pilots for the media, but the publishing of individual details was controlled. The press were of course unhappy with such a position, arguing as early as November 1939 that the RAF needed heroes to look up and aspire to, and that they were determined to ensure that they had them [124, p. 136]. The publicity advantages to the RAF were hard to deny, especially when argued for by a powerful national press very willing to project such propaganda. Warrior-heroes as unnamed individuals were frequently portrayed as modest, self-effacing and matter-of-fact in the press. They were clearly highly skilled technocrats, but little was revealed about their motivation for continued close engagement with enemy aircraft. Similarly, there was little of the ‘blood and guts’ approach to projecting pilots as ferocious, bloodthirsty fanatics hell bent on destroying the Hun in the newspapers; such personalities undoubtedly existed amongst the fighter pilots who had lost loved ones. Mostly, press accounts took a light-hearted approach to coverage, as, for example, appeared on 6 July in the Mirror under the heading: ‘They gave Nazi flyers a Hurri(caning)’ about two Hurricane pilots, Squadron Leader Donaldson and Wing Commander Beamish, whose photographs were included in the feature [374, pp. 6–7, col. d], ‘He attacked each plane as it dived’ [407, p. 12, col. d] or ‘One Hurricane pilot fights 120 Germans’ on the Express’s front page [469, p. 1]. Considerations of personal safety were therefore eschewed in press accounts such as ‘He lives to fly another Spitfire’, that recounted the Channel rescue, with photographs, of a young pilot [414, pp. 6–7], or, recalling medieval jousting, ‘The knights ride again’ a lengthy article about the RAF’s fighter actions, with a photograph of a helmeted pilot in a Spitfire cockpit [414, p. 4, col. c]. ‘The boy who finds life good’ included a photograph of a cheerful, injured RAF pilot in normal dress, clearly itching to rejoin the fight [396, p. 6]. ‘He can’t keep away from his job’ similarly used a photograph to project a cheerful and benign, injured pilot making a model aeroplane in a convalescent home [418, p. 1], to be followed on 29 August, again in the Sketch, by a photograph from the same session with the heading: ‘They’ll soon be up again – injured R.A.F. pilots getting fit’ [419, p. 7]. In a reminder that the nation’s warrior-heroes were people too, the Mirror’s front page included a photograph of a pilot and his bride, in ‘Day off – to wed’ [408, p. 1]. It was unnecessary to point out that these were not ideologically driven warriors, yet they were managing to thwart the Luftwaffe’s repeated assaults; a Luftwaffe whose might had been frequently proclaimed and demonstrated up until the Battle. Flying Officer ‘Cobber’ Kain had been the first decorated RAF ‘ace’ to receive attention from the media during the Battle of France, in part because of pressure from the media to be given material with which to portray the RAF’s pilots

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in ways likely to engage the public’s imagination and interest, noted above. Despite this pressure and the manifold propaganda opportunities, this policy was rigidly adhered to with very few RAF pilots and aircrew identified as individuals, except in instances of exceptional prowess or bravery such as the awarding of the DFM to NCOs, DFC to officers, DSO or VC. The DFC and DFM were awarded for ‘exceptional valour, courage or devotion to duty whilst flying in active operations against the enemy’ [90*, p. 69; 263, pp. 604–6], often, but not exclusively, reflecting successes in downing five or more enemy aircraft. An ‘ace’ in many countries, the AM did not encourage the term. The medals were illustrated and explained, all requiring a level of combat engagement, bravery and achievement beyond that normally expected, or at least witnessed [508, p. 396]. Throughout the Battle, the AM in newspapers and magazines published the ranks, names and awards in list form of pilots and aircrew. An extract from ‘Gallantry in the air’ in The Times was typical of the coverage in newspaper award announcements [552, p. 7, col. g]: DISTINGUISHED FLYING CROSS VILLA, Acting Flight Lieutenant John Wolferstan. Since August 31 this officer has destroyed at least six enemy aircraft. One day in September he was successful in destroying three enemy aircraft unaided and assisted in the destruction of a fourth. Flight Lieutenant Villa has consistently led his flight, and frequently the squadron, with great dash and eagerness, and has proved a keen fighter and a good leader. HAINES, Flying Officer Leonard Archibald. Flying Officer Haines has destroyed seven enemy aircraft and assisted in the destruction of another. Twice he has pursued hostile aircraft to France and shot them down. He has shown the utmost courage, tenacity, and devotion to duty. CUNNINGHAM, Pilot Officer Wallace. Pilot Officer Cunningham has shot down five hostile aircraft. He has shown great personal gallantry and splendid skill in action. Of these three, both Cunningham and Villa survived the war, and Haines died in 1941. In the main, because of the numbers involved it was impracticable to give national press coverage to all those being awarded, but at the regional and local levels the press might pay tribute to their ‘local heroes’. This was valuable propaganda for RAF recruitment. Aside from the jollity and light-heartedness seen in the press, these were fighting men who were bringing down large numbers of enemy aircraft, some

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with ferocious determination. They may have been relaxed and smiling when photographers captured their images, but to be credited with perhaps eight or nine enemy aircraft destroyed meant that these fighter pilots had frequently engaged with equally determined and skilful Luftwaffe aircrews. Even allowing for the downward revision of claims in the post-war era, many decorated pilots had attained ‘ace’ status in demanding and deadly combat conditions, and seen their friends killed. As a rule, the press managed to convey something of their warrior prowess without trespassing upon the very ‘English’ sense of chivalric fair play and good taste, accounts of combats giving the broad details without crossing the line into gloating and morbidity. Examples of coverage in the Mirror during July and August included: ‘Twice honoured in two months – 10 fights in 10 days’ [381, p. 12, col. b], ‘ ‘‘Cobber’s’’ comrade gets Bar to D.F.C.’ that included a photograph of the pilot, a colleague of the deceased ‘Cobber’ Kain [381, p. 12, col. c], and ‘Damage was 21 raiders down – Here are the men who did it’ [391, p. 3]. The youthfulness of many pilots was frequently proclaimed: ‘20, bagged 4 planes – D.F.C.’ [397, p. 12, col. a] included a small front-page photograph of the pilot, whilst ‘20-year-old R.A.F. sergeant is awarded D.F.M.’ [401, p. 3, col. d] suggested to readers a ‘classless’ RAF warrior fighter-elite where all could shine. A story carried on 30 and 31 August by the Mirror clearly aimed to convey their admiration for a 19-year-old pilot with nine enemy aircraft to his credit, two versions of the front page made available: ‘Has shot down nine planes at nineteen’ and ‘Shot down 9 planes – is 19’ [416, p. 1]. The following day’s article featured an artist’s side profile impression of the pilot, with the article title: ‘19-year-old D.F.C. bags 9’ [417, p. 3, col. d]. At the other end of the age spectrum ‘He wasn’t too old at 40 – wins D.F.C.’ reminded readers that heroism was not the preserve of the young [414, p. 7, col. d]. The bulk of pilots were in their early twenties, many with extensive experience of flying in the pre-war RAF. These were often the men who began to notch up scores once the fighting began in earnest, attracting headlines such as: ‘D.F.C. is now a D.S.O. too’ [410, p. 11, col. c]; ‘Shot down 14 Nazis – missing’ [415, p. 3, col. d]; or ‘Got 3 planes in one day’, that included medal awards to other pilots [416, p. 12, col. d]. A figure attracting widespread, national adulation and praise was Flight Lieutenant Douglas Bader, who was an Acting Wing Commander by March 1941. Bader had joined the RAF in 1928, being invalided out in 1933 after losing his lower limbs in a flying accident. He had rejoined in 1939, in time for Dunkirk, where he had assumed his old rank prior to being rapidly promoted to Acting Squadron Leader on 24 June, and leading 242 Squadron at Coltishall in 12 Group. Undeniably highly courageous and an effective warrior-leader, he lacked the experience gained by squadrons in 11 Group, and argued strongly for ‘big wing’ tactics that were ill advised for prompt defence. His celebrity came initially from the undoubted example he had set in being able to fight

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effectively in a fighter, despite his disability. Neither the AM nor the press were slow in grasping the propaganda opportunities he offered: for example, ‘Greatest hero of them all’, a Mirror front-page article, included a photograph of both Bader and his wife Thelma [381, p. 1]. It was not until mid-September that Bader again featured prominently in the national press, this time for his Wing leadership during the massed air battles over and around London. The brief article ‘Identity of legless pilot’, ‘leads Canadian squadron’ provided details in the Telegraph on 16 September of his leadership [214, p. 189]. A fuller account appeared in The Times’ 23 September issue: ‘D.S.O. for legless pilot – Squadron led against 70 raiders’, confirming that his DSO was awarded ‘for gallantry in flying operations against the enemy’ [543, p. 2, col. c]. Bader was not to receive the DFC until January 1941, but ended the war a highly decorated figure and he remains arguably the best-known Battle pilot. Noted previously (Chapter 4), the range of claims during the Battle was wide, some pilots achieving perhaps one kill, the aces well into double figures [192]. By May 1941 a number of high-scoring pilots were identified [88, pp. 69–74], the numbers in brackets following each name indicating post-war analysis giving ‘confirmed’, then ‘probable’ kills during the Battle itself (the figures exclude ‘unconfirmed’ and ‘damaged’ claims, but include ‘quarter’ and ‘half’ shares as percentages) [323]. Including these figures gives a broad picture of pilots’ claims, many going on to higher scores – other pilots might similarly have been included in the 1941 ‘list’. Identified pilots included, ranked by their claims: Pilot Officer E.S. Lock (21+8), Sergeant J.H. Lacey (18+5), Flight Lieutenant A.A. McKellar (17.5+5), Flying Officer B.J.G. Carbury (15+2), Pilot Officer R.F.T. Doe (15), Flight Lieutenant M.N. Crossley (14), Flight Lieutenant J.W. Villa (13.1+4), Sergeant H.J.L. Hallowes (11.5+2), Flying Officer J.C. Dundas (11.1+1), Flight Lieutenant D.R.S. Bader (11+1), Pilot Officer G. Allard (10.8+2), Sergeant A. McDowall (10.7+2), Flight Lieutenant R.F. Boyd (10.7+1), Flight Lieutenant R.R. Stanford Tuck (9.3+4), Flight Sergeant G.C. Unwin (9+2), Flying Officer J.H. Mungo-Park (7+5), Flying Officer J.C. Freeborn (7+1), Flight Lieutenant A.G. Malan (6.3+2), Flying Officer A.C. Deere (5+3), Flying Officer S.D.P. Connors (5), Pilot Officer H.M. Stephen (4.3+2), Flight Lieutenant J.A. Kent (4+2) and Sergeant D.E. Kingaby (3.1+1). The Czech ‘ace’ Sergeant Josef Franzek (17+1) [actually Frantisek] was noted as having brought down 17 aircraft [88, p. 62], such pilots also the focus for portraitists (Plate 11; appendix). John Nicolson VC Twenty-three-year-old Flight Lieutenant John Nicolson won his Victoria Cross, Britain’s highest honour for valour – the only fighter pilot to do so – for undeniable heroism during combat with Me109s and Me110s on 16 August, when flying a Hurricane [300, pp. 306–13]. The AM’s DPR issued detailed press releases about ‘Nick’ Nicolson’s specific combat experience, his background, family and

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RAF career. This information was released to the MOI on 14 November, and circulated to the media thereafter; the King awarded his VC on 25 November. Part of his citation was reproduced in the London Gazette, the text included in many newspapers and magazines after 15 November, when the award was announced: During an engagement with the enemy near Southampton on August 16, 1940, Flight Lieutenant Nicolson’s aircraft was hit by four cannon shells, two of which wounded him whilst another set fire to the gravity tank. When about to abandon his aircraft owing to flames in the cockpit, he sighted an enemy fighter. This he attacked and shot down, although as a result of staying in his burning aircraft he sustained serious burns to his hands, face, neck and legs. Flight Lieutenant Nicolson has always displayed great enthusiasm for air fighting and this incident shows that he possesses courage and determination of a high order. By continuing to engage the enemy after he had been wounded and his aircraft set on fire, he displayed exceptional gallantry and disregard for the safety of his own life. [599] This description masks the full horror of his experience: he was indeed severely burnt, but had suffered a serious injury to his left eye, and noted previously, on his parachute descent was further wounded by a Home Guard Sergeant who foolishly loosed off a shotgun at him; that offender thereafter promptly badly beaten [300, p. 309]. Surprisingly, Nicolson was the only pilot to win a VC in Fighter Command during the war, one of the requirements being that witnesses usually verified the action. In Nicolson’s case no other pilot was able to confirm his experience, but the severe wounds were eloquent. Many fighter engagements doubtless justified the award of the VC to RAF pilots, but these often went unobserved in the heat of a dogfight. Typically, officer pilots were awarded the DFC for sustained prowess and bravery during combat, but far more rarely the DSO. Nicolson was known to have been unhappy about wearing his ribbon and VC medal, clear that fellow pilots routinely displayed the level of selfless courage that he had shown in order to be awarded his medal, and thought it unfair that he had been singled out for this high honour. Short of losing his life, it is difficult to imagine what more Nicolson could have done to warrant the VC. The wonder is not so much that Nicolson was awarded it, but that other fighter pilots were not. He was finally ordered to wear his ribbon on his RAF tunic, having deliberately left it off [300, p. 310]. Whether he was justified in his resistance was immaterial from the propaganda perspective. Nicolson’s action clearly merited the award: someone in Fighter Command would have to be the first to receive it,

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and any modest recipient – as most pilots instinctively were – would probably resist it. Bungay confirms that the Secretary of State for Air was minded to award the VC to a suitable RAF candidate; Nicolson, initially recommended for the DFC, was chosen, a decision with which Dowding concurred [142, p. 466, note 25]. Nicolson, unsure as to why he had been awarded it, sought – as many did – to feel worthy of such an honour, pushing himself hard throughout the remaining war years. He achieved the rank of Wing Commander through successive combat leadership – he had previously been awarded the DFC in 1944 – prior to losing his life during a bombing sortie over the Bay of Bengal in May 1945.

Off the front pages − The Mirror and The Times Moving away from the headlines, contrasting the Mirror and The Times’ inner pages convey an indication of those two very different newspapers – the survey begins with the Mirror, The Times assessed for the latter part of the Battle. Apart from the level of detail included, there was at times little to distinguish the propagandising tone of either publication’s accounts; despite the varied quality in reportage, both were heavily dependent upon AM communiqu´es. Although coverage of Luftwaffe attacks had begun in June, it was not until early July that they began to develop in intensity, a focus on RAF claims apparent from the very beginning of the officially defined Battle, notably as front-page Mirror banner headlines. On 8 July ‘Six Germans down in raids’ was reported [375, p. 12, col. b], the following day’s edition reporting ‘8 Nazi raiders are down’ [376, p. 12, col. d] On 13 July the Mirror published ‘The price Hitler is paying . . . ’ in which they gave daily scores against six days of the previous week, at that time a claimed RAF total of 95. An unnecessary exhortation, ‘Keep it up, boys’ set the tone for much of the encouragement offered to the pilots. To dispel any doubts about the claims, a photograph featured a group of people standing on a wrecked German aircraft [381, p. 7]. The same edition’s back page carried the graphic headline ‘Fighters slash raiders – Shot to pieces’ in a story of RAF prowess [381, p. 12, col. a]. This tone was continued for the three days from 25 July, with ‘R.A.F. keep it up: day’s haul of 12’ [386, p. 3, col. a], ‘Nazis lose 9 in air fight’ [387, p. 12, col. d], and ‘28 planes in record day’s bag’ [388, p. 12, col. a]. On 31 July ‘3 more enemy planes down’ was reported [391, p. 12, col. d], and just before Adler Tag began, the very high RAF claims for enemy aircraft were beginning to appear such as ‘60 planes lost for 2 ships’ that would continue throughout August and September [399, p. 3, col. a]. Into mid-August, newspapers carried regular coverage of the events reported by the AM. On 15 August ‘Fun fighting the Huns’ suggested the sporting analogy propagated through the ‘cricket score’ approach on RAF claims [403, p. 11, col. d], the same issue’s ‘300-plane attack is broken up’ providing a sharper

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counterpoint [403, p. 12, col. c]. The back page on 20 August carried two stories: ‘One-plane raids: five down’ [407, p. 12, col. b] and the rather less modest ‘We wipe out squadrons’ [407, p. 12, col. a]. Reasons for such success might have been attributable to ‘Our planes are tough stuff’, a small item on 22 August [409, p. 11, col. c], and ‘Raids on our ’dromes fail’ in the same issue [409, p. 12, col. d]. The RAF’s prowess was again conveyed on 24 August in ‘Squadron’s 24 in 10 days’ [411, p. 3, col. d]. In a Mirror comment on 26 August ‘The air war’ was considered following a momentous few weeks, during which an invasion had been a possibility [412, p. 5, col. a]. The extent to which the air combats had become confused by ‘the fog of war’ was revealed the following day in ‘One hour: 53 raiders down’ [413, p. 11, col. d], that, were it completely accurate, would fully justify the 29 August’s unflattering article entitled the ‘Germans thought der tag had come’ [415, p. 3, col. a]. Sub-headings used to define the changing reportage convey the detailed nature of articles in The Times, with the result that the punchy, easily grasped clarity frequently captured in the Mirror was lost. For those with the time available to read such extended reports they made for a perhaps more satisfying account, but in truth, because of their sources as noted above, were often more elaborate versions of the easier-to-read Mirror material. Coverage of the massive, extensive air combats on 18 August was captured in the following extended article, and gives an idea of the approach taken: ‘Germany’s heaviest air defeat – 140 machines shot down, out of 600 – Big formations driven back – Whole squadrons destroyed – 100 per cent. Success for Hurricanes – Battle high over S.E. coast – 70 bombers turn tail’ [522, p. 4, col. a]. The same issue provided a context for the RAF’s successes up to and including Germany’s setback on 18 August where it boasted: ‘Grim week for Germany – 493 aircraft shot down – Loss of trained men – 100 men a day’ [522, p. 9, col. d]. Such claims seemed reasonable on the basis of the evidence being presented, many newspapers very willing to project propaganda of this timbre without independent verification. As the vicious fighting during August progressed, many article headings continued to affirm the RAF’s successes in thwarting massed attacks: ‘Bomber waves driven off – Eight raiders shot down’ [523, p. 4, col. e], ‘89 raiders down during the week-end – Big enemy forces driven off – 39 raiders down yesterday – One in four shot down’ [524, p. 4, col. a], ‘Fighters’ crowded hour – Twelve raiders fall to twelve Spitfires’ [525, p. 2, col. d] and ‘Nine raiders shot down – Big enemy formations – Bombers dispersed – Sergeants’ successes’ [526, p. 4, col. c]. Into September the pressure upon the RAF continued unabated, the Luftwaffe launching extensive attacks against the RAF’s key fighter airfields, a policy that was progressively yielding results, even if this was not evident in reportage. Whilst these large attacks were acknowledged, more valuable propaganda was to be gained in claims that they were thwarted, again in the manner of David and Goliath. Coverage during the period 2–7 September, before the attack on

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London could be reported, conveyed the gigantic ‘thrust and parry’ style of the air clashes, and consequent high RAF claims. On the 2 September The Times reported ‘Mass attacks on Britain during the week-end – Enemy lose 110 machines – Big formations broken up – Attempts to attack aerodromes’ [527, p. 4, col. a], to be followed the next day with: ‘650 raiding aircraft driven back – 42 German machines down – Attack in three waves – All beaten back – Mass raids fail – 300 in attack on aerodromes’ [528, p. 4, col. a]. The valuable mental picture created by enormous numbers of black-crossed Luftwaffe bombers being swept aside by RAF fighters was superb propaganda, the approach continuing into early September where reassuringly, the first indications of a large daylight attack on London were communicated on 4 September with: ‘Air thrusts at London’s defences fail – Waves of hundreds of machines repulsed by fighters – 25 enemy raiders destroyed – Attacks aimed at aerodromes’ [529, p. 4, col. f]. On 6 and 7 September references continued to huge formations being savaged by resolute and unbending Spitfires and Hurricanes: ‘Thames-side attack – Enemy driven from aerodromes – Formation of 250 broken up – Spitfire squadron’s 10 victims’ [530, p. 4, col. g]; and ‘Big enemy air attacks repulsed – 45 German machines destroyed – Enemy ‘‘engaged at all points’’ – 34 destroyed in an hour – 650 aeroplanes in three attacks – Alert Hurricanes’ [531, p. 4, col. a]. A change of direction from 7 September introduced a startling new element to the air war, for this time it directly threatened thousands of civilians in the manner widely anticipated by Douhet in the interwar years, and so graphically captured in Baldwin’s ‘the bomber will always get through’. Following its 7 September assault the Luftwaffe sustained its night and day attacks against the capital, and in so doing paid the propaganda and material price through large RAF pilots’ claims for destroyed aircraft. On 9 September the newspaper proclaimed ‘Massed air attack on London – 107 raiders shot down’ [532, p. 4, col. a], followed the next day with ‘Daylight raid on London – 47 of the enemy shot down’ [533, p. 4, col. d], and then, ‘90 raiders down – Big battle near London’ [535, p. 4, col. d]. 15 September was a significant moment in the air war, since identified as the turning point by many historians. The massed air battles over London were widely covered in all newspapers, where The Times ‘headline’ read: ‘175 raiders shot down; Sunday air battles over London and S.E.’ [537, p. 4, col. a] as part of its extensive coverage, with further details about the day’s fighting published on 17 September in ‘Home news – R.A.F. fighters’ biggest day – Pilots’ own stories’ [538, p. 2, col. a]. The significance of the Luftwaffe’s latest strategic shift was covered in the same issue under ‘The air attack on London – A constant change of German tactics’ [538, p. 5, col. f]. Conveying the impact of these repeated battles, ‘Mounting total of ‘‘probables’’ – R.A.F. men too wary to watch the crash’ [540, p. 2, col. b] confirmed the RAF’s reluctance to follow stricken victims down, lest they themselves be attacked by Me109s. The same issue confirmed the need for caution in ‘46 raiders shot down over England – Day of

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continuous fighting’ that hinted at the exhausting nature of unrelenting combat at high altitudes [540, p. 4, col. a]. ‘Bombs in central London – 260 raiders over S.E. coast – Engagement above the clouds’ was a reminder that large scale attacks against the capital were continuing, but these were unsustainable during daylight and heralded yet another change of tactics by the Luftwaffe [542, p. 4, col. a]. Changes forced upon Goering and his commanders by continuing losses provided an opportunity too good to miss in the continuing propaganda war, even if the main focus of interest was the home front’s nightly battering during the developing London Blitz. ‘New German air tactics – Five fighters to each bomber – Crippling losses’ anticipated October’s reduction in the use of twinengined bombers [546, p. 2, col. b], subsequent article headings conveying the grinding, now familiar nature of the air fighting. These included: ‘26 raiders down – R.A.F. lose one pilot’ [546, p. 4, col. d]; ‘31 raiders shot down – Five R.A.F. pilots lost’ [547, p. 4, col. c]; and in a fitting end to that phase, ‘130 daylight raiders destroyed – Over 2000 in two months’ [548, p. 4, col. f]. ‘Battle of fighters – Enemy forces driven from south coast’ [549, p. 2, col. b] heralded the next, final phase that continued to receive detailed coverage in The Times but was less prominent elsewhere because of the more remote ‘fighter against fighter’ clashes. The Times covered the final phase of the Battle to a level of detail seen in preceding periods, but the propaganda opportunities provided by these ‘nuisance raids’ were inevitably modest. Despite this, it was a serious enough business for the pilots themselves, combats often taking place at very high altitudes where the Me109 enjoyed superior performance over both the Spitfire and Hurricane, and invisible to those on the ground. Still the main source, the AM derived reportage began familiarly enough in October with ‘47 raiders shot down – Enemy formation of 180 broken up – Big daylight attacks repelled’ [550, p. 4, col. a] on the first day of the month, but two days later The Times affirmed that: ‘All day attacks on London fail – Every squadron checked – Aimless bombing by single aircraft – Enemy tactics changed’ [552, p. 4, col. a]. A succession of these combats, usually featuring Me109 and Me110 fighter-bombers, made repeated attacks against targets in the south-east and London, and suffered the consequences as projected in The Times: ‘Raiding forces repulsed – 24 shot down on Saturday – Medway area attacked’ [554, p. 2, col. a]; and the following day, ‘450 raiders driven off – Five attempts on London – Battle five miles high’ [555, p. 4, col. g]. ‘Bomb-carrying fighters – Dive attack on the coast’ [557, p. 4, col. a] again proclaimed new tactics requiring flexible RAF responses, high altitude standing patrols a means of meeting the new challenge. ‘Daylight attacks – Where raiders were shot down – Battles over southern counties – Enemy ambushed’ [559, p. 4, col. e], ‘Seven raiders shot down – Constant attacks’ [563, p. 4, col. e], ‘100 machines in air battle – London day attack foiled’ [565, p. 4, col. f] and ‘12 raiders

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shot down – Many day attacks – Four main waves’ [568, p. 4, col. e] indicated the results. During the final days of the official Battle the enemy’s efforts were sustained, aided it was believed by the Italian Dictator Benito Mussolini’s Regia Aeronautica: ‘Waves of day raiders – 22 shot down – Italian bombers?’ [571, p. 4, col. g]. Combat on the 30 October set the pace for what was to follow as the day fighting ground to a halt: ‘Small scale day raids – Seven shot down – Low-flying night bombers’ [572, p. 4, col. e]. The invasion was clearly unlikely in October, and the Blitz was a new development. By October’s end the Few had had their moment of media glory insofar as extensive daily coverage was concerned, but it had been very glorious propaganda. Such adulatory coverage would not be repeated on that scale again, new developments pressing in on editors as they strove to chart and report on war progress (and setbacks), as 1940 drew to a close and 1941 beckoned. The Blitz, for example, was a major concern that offered huge potential for securing sympathetic American aid than did two elite air forces dogfighting over the Channel. This was not to downplay the Battle’s importance, but images of young children wounded by Nazi bombs was more powerful and emotive propaganda, capturing the attention of many throughout the world. All that said, the AM’s DPR can hardly have been disappointed that they had managed to keep the air war on front pages for many of the 114 days of the Battle, the RAF’s reputation assured.

Magazines and journals Magazines and journals offered different vehicles to newspapers for projecting aspects of the air war, and varied considerably in their style, content, editorial aspirations and circulation. Magazines allowed for either photo-essay coverage, or, very specialised, illustrated, assessments of the fighting (Chapter 7 considers visual propaganda). Magazine coverage about the Battle was very mixed, the Blitz a significant step-change both in tempo and focus. Paper shortages had a similar impact upon magazines as experienced by newspaper and book publishers, editors seeking to include as much as possible in each issue, whilst also allowing for advertising space. H. Wilson Harris, The Spectator’s editor, drew attention to the challenges on 11 October, noting the government requirement that journals such as his reduce their paper consumption to only one-third of pre-war levels – in that instance, 48 pages were reduced to 24 by the simple expedient of using much thinner paper. Inevitably, long-running articles and other features were either severely reduced in length or dropped altogether. Also significant was the impact upon staffing levels occasioned by war demands, and the disruptive nature of the Blitz [212, p. 132]. The Aeroplane, similarly constrained by government restrictions, noted in its 30 August issue that because of paper rationing and the ban on returns by newsagents of unsold copies, its

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casual readers would find it increasingly difficult to secure a weekly copy unless they subscribed to the magazine [479, p. 242]. Magazines – weekly or monthly – were broadly divisible into four main categories. Cheap, populist publications aimed at mass markets with some coverage of the war, in addition to ‘peacetime’ themes included the weekly Everybody’s, Illustrated and, first published in 1938, Picture Post [304, pp. 185–6; 348] in Britain, whilst in America Life, Liberty and Reader’s Digest were significant. Woman and Woman’s Own provided valuable platforms for projecting aspects of the war to the crucial home front [304, p. 209]. Magazines published by the BBC included the weekly, long-established Radio Times [304, pp. 208–9], a hugely successful guide to daily wireless broadcasts, and The Listener, its more literary supplement. Smaller British circulation magazines offering a mix of specialised articles, sometimes fiction, reviews and humour included in Britain, Country Life, John Bull [304, p. 184], Lilliput, first published in 1937, The Illustrated London News, almost celebrating its centenary [208], Time & Tide and Punch (or the London Charivari), founded in 1841; and in the United States, Time and Collier’s served a similar purpose. British publications concerned with more ‘high-brow’ cultural endeavours including literature, theatre and reviews encompassed the newly launched Horizon [329, p. 292], and also New Statesman and Nation, New Writing and The Spectator. The Few’s impact was felt in such literary circles, where Stephen Spender recalled that during the Battle Horizon received letters from some of the Few, the magazine representing an ideal that was well worth fighting for [329, p. 292]. The more specialised weekly British output focusing directly upon military aviation included Flight (and ‘The Aircraft Engineer’) founded in 1909, and The Aeroplane (incorporating Aeronautical Engineering), two years later in 1911 by C.G. Grey – neither of these would have enjoyed a mass market for sales. Published during the First World War, The War Illustrated was re-launched in anticipation of the second, and appeared weekly covering all aspects of the war. It was targeted to appeal both to military and civilian readers, being one of a range of such publications with a Forces’ audience in mind. The War incorporating War Pictorial was in similar vein. Circulation figures reflected both their popularity and readerships, but also the potential propaganda reach. Weekly or monthly sales figures provided by the ABC [293, p. 66] reveal mixed readerships for the period January–June 1939: The Radio Times sold 2,981,986; Picture Post 1,300,492, but Reed gives 1,185,915 in 1940 [304, p. 209]. Illustrated’s weekly sales were close to those of Picture Post [304, p. 184], John Bull not far short at 1,045,170 in 1949, suggesting 1m sales during the war [304, p. 184]. War Pictorial sold 200,000 copies per week. Lilliput sold 216,562 and Punch, 116,264. Initial sales of magazines do not of course reveal secondary readers within a family or group, and comments made by those who have read the material to others who had not.

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‘Hulton’s National Weekly’, the Picture Post, used a photojournalism format that lent itself well to coverage of war issues. A blend of high-quality black and white photographs supplemented with brisk text, resulted in an easily readable, effective style. Selling for threepence it was a large magazine of almost A3 size, comprised of 40 pages. Several pages of advertisements to front and rear enclosed pictorial features on varied subjects, supplemented with articles. ‘Diary of the War’ was provided each week, occupying several columns on one page, with brief coverage of the RAF’s activities. Beyond that its Battle coverage in respect of the RAF was not extensive, in part perhaps because of an article about the work of the fighter pilots in April (Chapter 7). The weekly Radio Times, selling for twopence, provided wireless broadcast programme information to its listeners (including worldwide broadcasts), the vast bulk of the publication focused upon programme content, and the times of regular news broadcasts. Austerity measures resulted in a reduced publication to some 20 pages of a little larger than A4 size, with fewer illustrations, a Modernist, 1930s woodcut style sometimes used for these. Morale-boosting features supplemented these where space allowed, in addition to articles about serious music and fictional stories. Churchill and Priestley were ‘cover stars’ of the publication because of their broadcasts, as were established BBC programme celebrities [179, p. 82]. The Illustrated London News was available by subscription both in Britain and abroad. The inland subscription rate was £ 3, 3s per year, for 52 issues, for which the subscriber received a high-quality publication printed on good paper, somewhat larger than A4 in size, and usually between 32 and 34 pages in length. It carried advertisements on some four pages of each issue, to its rear. Articles, lavishly illustrated, were usually between one and two pages in length, photo-essays enhanced with captions of reasonable length and detail. Photographs, artists’ impressions, maps and diagrams provided the range of illustrations. Occasional full-colour portraits were published. Book and other reviews were regularly included. Although registered with the GPO as a newspaper, The War Illustrated selling for threepence more closely followed a magazine format in its 32, roughly A4-sized pages, of newspaper quality. Edited by Sir John Hammerton, its appeal to serving members of the Forces was obvious, but it provided a useful briefing for a wider constituency. It carried very few advertisements and was wholly focused on aspects of the war, publishing a mixture of illustrated articles usually of one or two pages in length. Both photographs and diagrams were used to provide a graphic dimension to the text, an approach featured in other magazines. Some cartoons from Punch were published. It ran a weekly diary of the war, a one-page fairly detailed day-by-day account of all aspects of the fighting. Two weekly magazines, The Aeroplane and Flight whose contents and format were necessarily similar, dominated the specialist aviation press. The Aeroplane, an A4-sized magazine costing ninepence, claimed to be ‘the leading aviation

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journal of the world’ on its front cover, and struck a balance between providing an industry trade journal carrying many advertisements and contents of interest to the general aviation enthusiast. Its length varied with each issue: 12 July had 72 pages; 6 September, 100 pages, of which 60 were for manufacturers’ advertisements; and 27 September, 68 pages. Articles included a weekly digest of aviation news, commentary in the week-by-week ‘War in the Air’, with details of the fighting, aircraft loss claims in graph form derived from air communiqu´es, some details of action and the broad thrust of the Luftwaffe offensive. These ran six days behind the events themselves. Aircraft recognition, details of new aircraft and readers’ correspondence were regularly published. As with Flight, ‘The Royal Air Force’ was a regular AM feature with details of bravery and combat awards, Casualty Lists and extracts from The London Gazette regarding commissions and senior appointments. Finding suitable material for a weekly publication must have been challenging at times, especially given the AM’s much criticised reluctance to reveal useful information in air communiqu´es. Flight was a specialist A4-sized weekly publication aimed at aircraft enthusiasts and trade professionals, its 42 pages carrying aircraft manufacturers’ advertisements, feature articles, readers’ letters, official RAF announcements on awards for bravery and an RAF roll of honour. Aircraft details, the manufacturing industry and materials, air transport, aerodynamics and coverage of the air war were regular features. Whilst available to the general public its cover price of ninepence would deter all but the ardently interested, its circulation reflecting a select readership. Battle coverage was included in most editions as the air fighting progressed and regularly in ‘The Outlook’ and ‘War in the Air’, where the details of air communiqu´es were frequently included, these very similar in content to the information also published in The Aeroplane. Magazine coverage of the air war Before the Battle developed, key elements of later coverage were put in place during June and early July, where the RAF’s prowess was being affirmed both during and following its air fighting in France, and over Dunkirk. Whilst distinct themes are identifiable the breadth of coverage is usefully conveyed broadly chronologically in what follows, an approach that also confirms how much the air war dominated coverage for the five months from mid-June to midNovember. Notable coverage began on 14 June in The Aeroplane that included ‘Nobility in the Air’, an assessment of the RAF’s role in the Battle of Dunkirk (and therefore sought to provide assurance about its future capability) [470*, p. 778]; on the same date War Illustrated’s ‘RAF triumphs over daily hordes of Nazi airmen’ also gave details of the Dunkirk air fighting [577, p. 631]. This coverage, it will be recalled, was offered at a time when many soldiers in the British Army were angered by what they saw as a failure to protect them during the Dunkirk evacuation. Signalling the change in focus from land to air, The

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Aeroplane on 21 June published a special ‘Air Power’ issue, which included articles on ‘Britain’s Air Arm’ [471, pp. 823–5], ‘The Fighter Command’ [471, pp. 826–7] and ‘The Empire Air Forces’ [471, pp. 838–9] – all confirmed the ability to withstand a Nazi air onslaught. On 28 June War Illustrated affirmed Churchill’s enduring phrase in a photo-essay entitled ‘These were the first shots in the ‘‘Battle of Britain’’ ’, by then proof-positive of Nazi intentions towards Britain [579, p. 688]. Confirming the RAF’s ability to respond, Illustrated on 29 June included ‘Towards air mastery’, a three-page article by Beaverbrook on how the RAF had been brought up to fighting strength, with details of its aircraft and the men who led it in the AM [435, pp. 15–17]. Picture Post’s 6 July issue used ‘The Battle of Britain’ as the title of its War Diary entry, this also reflecting the developing air war [438*, p. 9]. Coverage in early-mid July was diverse, the invasion a subject of considerable interest. For instance, on 12 July The Aeroplane included ‘The Invader’s Dilemma’ a consideration of the RAF’s role in the early stages of the fighting [472, pp. 29–30]; the 20 July issue of the ILN similarly discussed ‘The war with Nazi Germany – prospects of invasion’, again commenting on the RAF [499, pp. 76–7]. Setting the pattern for future coverage, War Illustrated on 12 July printed ‘What twelve days of air war cost Germany’, detailing 22 aircraft losses from 18 June to 1 July, a period not officially recognised as part of the Battle [581, p. 26]. It again considered pre-Battle skirmishes during the first eight days of July in ‘Hitler intensifies the air war against Britain’ [582, p. 48]. Continuing this approach The Aeroplane on 19 July in ‘The Fighters’ Heyday’ assessed the RAF’s defensive role (and again offered reassurance about Britain’s air defence) [473, pp. 69–70]. By later July as the pace quickened, magazines continued to give prominence to many aspects of the air fighting. On 26 July The Aeroplane featured several articles: in ‘Aluminium Alarm’ responses to appeals for pots and pans, following Beaverbrook’s appeal being detailed [474, p. 84]; the brief item ‘Americans in the R.A.F.’ anticipated the post-Battle founding of the ‘Eagle Squadron’ [474, p. 85]; and ‘Another Bad Week for the Luftwaffe’ confirmed high losses [474, pp. 89–91]. The same number’s ‘Performance on the Level’ assessed British, German and American fighter aircraft capabilities, an issue of particular interest to US pilots and planners given the then undeniable performance lacunae between European and American first-line aircraft [474, pp. 98–9]. On the same date, War Illustrated included ‘Why the Nazis lost 140 aircraft in eight days’ detailing German losses, and proclaiming the prowess of the RAF’s fighters. In an early example of the naming of RAF pilots, a photograph of Douglas Bader and details of his exploits in combat were featured in the same article [583, p. 81]. On 27 July the ILN revealed ‘How the Luftwaffe plans raids on Britain’ and in ‘Air war over the Channel’ described attacks on shipping near Dover that included infrequently available gun-camera footage [500, p. 118].

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Into early August, The Aeroplane featured ‘The Beaverbrook Broadcast’, an edited text of his 24 July speech to Britain and America, in which he considered the aircraft industry and relative attributes of the RAF and Luftwaffe [475, p. 115]. War Illustrated also included on 2 August ‘The Empire’s part in the Battle of Britain’ with some coverage of the RAF [584, p. 95], and in ‘They have won honour in freedom’s cause’ featured photographs and details of men and women awarded medals for gallantry – 15 RAF aircrew were included, many for the Battle of France [584, p. 109]. On 3 August the ILN included ‘Germany’s cynical misuse of the Red Cross’ that briefly detailed rescue aircraft being used for reconnaissance purposes, and which gave rise to controversy when the RAF attacked them [501, p. 141]. Picture Post’s issue on the same date entitled its regular War Diary feature ‘Britain commands the air’, detailing the recent air fighting, and including some gun-camera footage [442, pp. 28–9]. With the tempo of air attacks increasing in tandem with claims for RAF victories, War Illustrated included an adulatory, illustrated article in its 9 August issue: ‘This battle of Dover was won in the sky – After the greatest of all battles in the blue’ [585, pp. 120–1]. Seeking a more sober tone (and of more appeal to a specialised readership), the ILN’s 10 August issue included the illustrated article ‘Aerodynamic cleanliness – where the R.A.F. fighters’ score’ that discussed the Spitfire and Hurricane in glowing terms, as well they might [502, p. 167]. By mid-August Adler Tag was into its stride, the pace of air fighting increasing dramatically as the Luftwaffe sought determinedly to destroy the RAF. Whilst this change in tempo was evident, magazine coverage was slightly delayed when compared to the BBC and newspaper output. A number of articles were based upon illustrations and photographs, rather than text. On 16 August War Illustrated included ‘We were looking for trouble and found it’ describing an RAF air combat that was typical of the racy narrative that would come to define accounts of dogfighting [586, p. 165]. Confirming that at the time the 8 August was viewed by many as the Battle’s start date, War Illustrated on 23 August featured ‘The air Battle of Britain: first phase opens’, a three-page account of aircraft claims by the RAF, and details of the week’s fighting between 8 and 13 August. Three photographs of pilots including the unnamed Peter Townsend, and a Spitfire, were printed on the article’s first page [587, pp. 173–5]. Later, in the same edition, the death of Flying Officer D.N. Grice was briefly reported, his stricken fighter piloted to the end in order to spare civilians as he avoided houses and crashed in the sea – a small photograph of him was included [587, p. 190]. Not a frequent occurrence, armourers at work also appeared in that issue, showing a Hurricane being rearmed [587, p. 257]. Flight’s 29 August ‘Sky-sweeping’ conveyed the combined effort of observers, pilots and ground crews, with a particular focus upon the fighter pilots themselves, use being made of pre-war aircraft and Battle-period images [431, supplement between pp. 164 and 165]. In common with similar coverage it gave a

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general impression of Britain’s air defences and the vital teamwork that made it function effectively. ‘The Lumbering Luftwaffe’ appeared in 30 August’s The Aeroplane, that considered the air battles as they continued to develop, the RAF’s adversary not making the progress expected. Next, ‘The Field of Tactics’ contrasted RAF and Luftwaffe air fighting methods in the same broad feature [479, pp. 215–16]. War Illustrated on 30 August included ‘Britain’s defenders beat back the Nazi raiders’ and gave details of the Luftwaffe’s attempts to defeat the RAF from the 8 August, a date usefully denoting the onset of the air campaign for correspondents [588, p. 212]. On 5 September Flight’s regular ‘War in the Air’ was concerned with the bomber war that unbeknownst to its writer, was about to turn viciously against London [432, pp. 183–4]. The following day, and conscious of combat successes in Camm’s fighter, The Aeroplane affirmed its primacy in a ‘Tribute to the Hurricane’ [480, p. 244]; this was supplemented with ‘The Hawker Hurricane’, a detailed eleven-page feature on the fighter [480, pp. 254–64]. The ILN of 7 September included ‘Over 1000 Nazi aircraft brought down over Great Britain in 20 days – August 11 to 31’, a graphic two-page illustration representing the numbers of aircraft claimed by the RAF, using small images of aircraft in plan to powerfully convey the enormity of the figures [506, pp. 312–13]. The 7 September issue of Picture Post with a front cover photograph of Churchill was a special issue marking the end of his first year as Prime Minister, with some focus upon the RAF’s role during the Battle [446, pp. 30–1]. Goering’s turn against London marked a significant step-change in the propaganda coverage of the air war, the focus shifting to some extent from the RAF to the home front during the Blitz. The following articles appeared in addition to such coverage, but there was no doubt about the enormity of the Blitz as a new, terrifying escalation of the war. However, War Illustrated’s 13 September issue assessed Hitler’s failure to defeat the RAF in ‘Germany’s Luftwaffe meets its match at last’ [590, p. 258], and in the ‘Air battle for London raged yet more fiercely’ detailed aircraft losses and changes in tactics leading up to 7 September [590, pp. 259–60]. The Aeroplane on 20 September included several small articles about the air war: ‘The Violation of London’ [482, pp. 307–8] and ‘A Problem of Tactics’ in which German and British aircraft losses were contrasted [482, p. 308]; ‘More than Six to One’ briefly considered the RAF’s success on 15 September against daylight German attacks [482, p. 309]; whilst in a piece of interest to aviation enthusiasts, ‘The Need for Research’ argued for continuing aeronautical research into fighters and bombers, contrasting British and German aircraft currently in combat service [482, p. 317]. War Illustrated in its 20 September issue, ‘In a crescendo of fury the air war goes on’ offered an assessment of the changing nature of the air war, with some consideration of the attacks against London [591, p. 299]. 26 September’s Flight in its regular ‘War in the Air’ – ‘Battle of Britain goes on’ confirmed the continuing struggle to

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defend London from aerial attacks [434, pp. 243–40]. In contrast with The Aeroplane and its apparent refusal to give credit to the Spitfire, two articles about Mitchell’s masterpiece were included: ‘A real thoroughbred’ [434, pp. 241–6] and ‘This is the Spitfire’ [434, pp. 247–50]. In no doubt about its capabilities War Illustrated published a similarly jubilant article almost a month later on 25 October, ‘The Spitfire – the world’s finest fighter’ unequivocal in its high praise [594, pp. 438–9]. As September drew to a close, The Aeroplane on 27 September published an article, ‘The Paradoxes of Proximity’ in which it considered the air attacks against London, and the changing nature of the air fighting [483, pp. 333–4]. If nothing else, Hitler had not launched his invasion and given the high state of anxiety only weeks earlier in June and July, there was no denying the RAF’s outstanding successes. Into October, the tactical situation made new demands upon the RAF. The 4 October issue of The Aeroplane assessed these changes, the nature of the fighting considered in a broadcast to America by Joubert entitled ‘The Night Birds’ about the RAF’s night-fighter actions against Luftwaffe bombers [484, p. 262]. In the same issue ‘The Prime Minister’s Message’ gave details of Churchill’s congratulations on RAF successes including 15 September and the massed attacks against London [484, p. 363]. War Illustrated on 4 October paid tribute to foreign pilots in ‘A Visit to Czech Airmen in Britain’ by President Benes, the exiled Czechoslovak leader [592, p. 352] – also the subject of newsreel coverage – and ‘Czechs help to down the Nazis over London’ [592, p. 353]. It again paid tribute on 18 October in ‘Polish airmen are fighting in Britain’s war’ [593, p. 400], and ‘They Are Ready in Thousands to Avenge Warsaw’ [593, p. 401], one image featuring King George VI and a fighter pilot, as also seen in newsreel coverage. On 11 October The Aeroplane argued in its regular ‘War in the Air’ feature that Hitler’s efforts to subdue the RAF had been unsuccessful, the claim figures indicating a reduced level of air activity compared with August and September [485, pp. 395–7]. The Aeroplane’s 18 October issue included: ‘Fighters as Bombers’, an essay on the Germans’ use of fighters as light bomber aircraft in daylight raids with the clear implication that standard bombers were too vulnerable over British airspace (and also that they had had little strategic effect) [486, p. 418]. ‘The Cult of Speed’ again considered the RAF’s challenges in meeting high, fast German air attacks in The Aeroplane on 1 November [488, p. 472]; War Illustrated echoed this assessment in its ‘Once again the Luftwaffe changes its tactics’ on the same date [595, p. 457]. The pace of the fighting having slackened, articles during November and December were more reflective, and confirmed the believed levels of losses sustained by the Luftwaffe, these based of course upon AM communiqu´es. Given such information it was both impossible and undesirable to suggest anything other than that the RAF had achieved a stunning victory. This was due to the heroism of the ‘fighter boys’, some singled out for high praise indeed, as for example, in 22 November’s The

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Aeroplane that included ‘Fighter Pilot V.C.’, a brief item on Nicolson. The article gave details of the combat, confirming that he had stayed in his cockpit despite heat and fire as his Hurricane was consumed by fire. His serious wounds made his ordeal all the greater, but – noted previously – it was disingenuous of the AM to suggest that he had floated to earth without further mishap [491, p. 561]. The following day’s ILN also included details of the award, with a photograph of the pilot [515, p. 658]; on 30 November, an illustrated account was published in that magazine about the combat event itself [516, pp. 696–7]. It was fitting that as the Battle’s intensity had faded one of the Few should be awarded Britain’s highest award for valour – as arguably should other fighter pilots.

Conclusions Whilst, as noted above in respect of newspapers, the RAF’s achievements made for ‘good news’ during a period of otherwise negative experiences, the Luftwaffe’s assault against civilians in London and elsewhere from 7 September rapidly dominated news coverage in Britain, America and internationally. Specialist aviation publications sustained their coverage of the RAF’s fighter squadrons and aircraft into late September and October, but there was no denying that the night Blitz was a prominent feature in the popular magazines and newspapers. That said, throughout the Battle newspaper and magazine publishers had been highly motivated in their support of the RAF’s fighter pilots, willingly publishing daily AM communiqu´es and other details as the claims were made. This propaganda contributed significantly to high public morale, even where individuals might doubt the veracity of newspaper accounts (but reinforced in any case through BBC bulletins). To an extent the press were able to bring pressure to bear upon the AM in revealing the names and faces of the RAF’s unofficial aces, these tending to feature in papers such as the Mirror. Some papers such as The Times relied heavily upon the AM’s bulletins, with many column inches devoted to almost verbatim reproductions of AI6-approved material about the RAF. This occurred to such an extent that some became almost semi-official propagandists for the AM. Specialist aviation magazines – although with small circulations – also relied significantly upon what the AM were prepared to reveal, The Aeroplane sometimes moved to anger by its censorship policies. Most clearly revealed above was the sheer mass of coverage of the Battle as it progressed through the summer and autumn, a great deal being written about the Few despite censorship restrictions. Given the need for positive news and stories the Battle must have seemed a precious gift to editors, the alternative a dreary, perhaps gloomy assessment of Britain’s plight. It is little wonder that the press seized so enthusiastically upon the Battle; and that its corollary was an equally sudden

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falling off of coverage as the Blitz began to bite and the Battle as the major event, receded. This mattered little: at a time when the AM and RAF really needed press support they had enjoyed an abundance of it, and it is hard to imagine – bearing in mind the rapidity of events – how such propaganda might have been bettered.

7 Men Like These

Newsreels as propaganda As a forerunner to television, the cinema was the only medium for visual projections of the air war, and the sole opportunity mass audiences had to see actual combat footage, or the men and aircraft involved. Newsreels and MOI short films were the two means of presenting such information, the former ‘hot’ propaganda, and the latter ‘warm’, because of the time differences involved and the relative immediacy of their contents. Newsreels could not compete with the BBC and press for the speed of response in breaking the news, but they could cover topical themes from a slightly broader perspective with reference to specific events such as very high RAF claims for aircraft shot down on a particular day, or the award of medals to pilots. The MOI’s short films did not attempt to address ‘hot’ news events but instead covered broader, ‘public information’ themes that chimed with newsreel coverage such as a justification for the RAF’s cumulative enemy aircraft totals, or a day in the life of a fighter pilot. In some respects newsreel and MOI film content was similar when it came to the RAF’s pilots, some film clips used in both, or access to the ‘fighter boys’ resulting in unavoidably similar footage. Newsreel companies invariably used a light and frequently humorous narrative style; the MOI’s ‘shorts’ tended to be more sober and – although they tried to avoid it – were more officious in tone. However, for cinemagoers the key difference between the two probably did not lay so much in what was said, but who was saying it. ‘Shorts’ were government-sponsored films, often overtly propagandistic in tone, with many people not well disposed towards them. Commercially produced newsreels varied in their appeal, but any issue included a range of brief items that made them easier to swallow whilst waiting for the feature film to begin. Newsreels were short motion pictures presenting current events, their ancestry pre-dating the First World War – recorded sound had only accompanied such 161

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film for a decade before the Second World War began. Colour film had been used for feature films before the war but was not available for newsreels in Britain. Several news stories usually of between one and two minutes’ duration were edited together for any one ‘edition’ or ‘issue’, the aim to cover a range of themes, some serious, some light-hearted. Commentary and film footage was mostly brisk, upbeat and inevitably somewhat thin on details. Five companies were involved in the production and circulation of newsreels to British audiences: Gaumont British News, British Movietone News, British Paramount News, Path´e Gazette and Universal News [602]. These companies benefited from their proven ability in projecting unwelcome news in light-hearted and cheery ways, experience gained during the Depression [339, p. 178]. Given the range of serious problems faced by Britain from May this was a valuable skill, the projection of carefully manipulated news masking the more dire realities. Government, from the outset of war, thus favoured newsreels; an essential outcome for the guarantee of film stocks to ensure continued production [324, p. 55], and conscription-exempted staff. These factors, in addition to strict censorship, ensured that the newsreel companies were very compliant and ‘patriotic’ [306, pp. 156–7]. Nicholas Reeves confirms this control, where the running order and relationships of items could be as significant as the content [306, p. 156]. In other words, the presentation of edited news footage did not always accord with the original factual material [339, p. 184]. By 1940 newsreels were usually completed – and officially scrutinised by censors – on the Monday and Thursday of each week. This typically gave a news ‘currency’ cycle of three days to the Monday edition and four days to that on Thursday, also taking in the weekends. Newsreels therefore rarely broke the news, but were able to cover news and current affairs issues with a time lag of up to four days. This was better than weekly magazines and Sunday newspapers, but not for ‘hot’ news. Newsreels were therefore a fairly useful if often heavily propagandised source of news, using broadly relevant filmic images. In terms of impact, MacKenzie believed that newsreels were vital to propagandists, not least because despite the criticisms levelled at them, most cinema audiences were susceptible to their messages and influence [54, p. 336]. Acknowledging that a single dose of newsreel propaganda would not lead to changed views he nevertheless believed that a drip-drip effect would pay significant dividends, especially when reinforcing themes carried in the newspapers [54, p. 337]. Only months into the war in January an M-O cinema observer was able to report that newsreels were appreciated by audiences and were inclined to clap Churchill whenever he appeared, and also for any views of RAF pilots [309, p. 171]. Despite these early propaganda opportunities – and their wide popularity before the war proper began – newsreels were not well liked by September, with audience approval dropping to below 25 per cent. The lack of gritty news, overt propagandising, unrelentingly patriotic and emotional

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appeals, the demonising of the enemy and the lack of major war successes despite the RAF’s efforts, all contributed to the decline [306, pp. 162–3].

Newsreel coverage of Fighter Command Typically, the composition of any newsreel edition might mean that on one date, items about the RAF – often two or three – were interspersed with other aspects of the war such as the RN, Army, Empire, home front or more lighthearted stories perhaps from the Unites States. Between 1 July and 30 October, some 250 newsreel items were focused on aspects of the air war, but the five companies were producing newsreel editions using the same footage and AM-provided material, with many repetitions of almost identical themes on similar dates. From July to October, of these 250 items, 83 were directly concerned with the RAF’s ‘front-line’ activities. Newsreel editions featured items with titles such as: The King Decorates Heroes of the Sky, Actual Scenes from RAF Planes in Action, Another Convoy Attacked–Hurricanes to the Rescue, Rout All Fritzes!, RAF Hit Hard as Raids Increase, RAF Get Germans ‘Down in the Dumps’, Bombs– Bricks–And Junk–Ers, Heroes of the Battle of Britain and The RAF Victory Loop. During the same period about 61 items focused more broadly on the air war, the remainder more peripheral to the central events. Tony Aldgate suggests that newsreel provision and content assumed an ordered and consistent theme after Dunkirk, wherein modesty and restraint were standard elements in keeping with the general approach of the day [109, pp. 208–9]. Jack Beddington as the MOI’s Films Division Director was appointed in April following two previously unsuccessful post holders, and he initially made most impact upon newsreel coverage in time for the Battle [109, p. 208]. However, so standardised was their content that in the censorship vacuum created by the AM the changing nature of the air war was difficult to project: items produced at the beginning of the fighting were not dissimilar to those appearing towards its end. As with feature films requiring RAF footage, the nature of available material dictated the structure of any item, creative narrative commentary used to smooth over and provide linkage for otherwise disjointed, absent or inauthentic content – clip repetition was inevitable. The AM did, however, allow newsreel cameramen some access to RAF stations, or at least were willing to provide their own footage of relevant Spitfires, Hurricanes and pilots. Frequent images of fighter aircraft reminded the viewer that Fighter Command was at the cutting edge of modern technology and organisation, as indeed it was. There was nothing revelatory about this material: the British public had been aware of the RAF’s new generation of monoplane fighters, both having received newsreel and press attention during 1938 when several items focused upon the Spitfire and Hurricane. Movietone and Path´e showed the Spitfire in flight in July 1938 and Spitfire production in Southampton featured in

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a Movietone issue in December 1938. Hurricanes had featured in March in a Movietone item at RAF Northolt; also the subject of a visit by King George VI around that time. Cinema audiences had previously seen the aircraft in earlier footage. Filmic authenticity: projecting aircraft and dogfights RAF prowess as a fighting force was projected through various means: aircraft were shown being serviced and rearmed by dedicated ground crews (without whom there would be no aircraft to fight in), and aircraft were filmed taxiing, taking-off, landing or flying either singly, in ‘vics’ or larger formations. Some of this material was of good quality. Filmic occurrences of Spitfires and Hurricanes were more balanced than might have been expected, most newsreels acknowledging the primacy of both types in the air fighting, and perhaps reflecting the RAF’s attitude to their mutual importance. Despite this, a fair amount of Spitfire film including scrambles, derived from the pre-war period. Useful, timely RAF footage relied heavily upon a co-operative attitude from both the AM and RAF. Aldgate believes that in propaganda terms the Battle came too soon, the MOI not sufficiently geared up to meet the demand for useful material [109, p. 208]. The filmic evidence suggests, however, that the AM’s DPR were able to arrange direct access, or at least provide material, rather in the manner that they dominated the release of ‘hot propaganda’ through communiqu´es, effectively ignoring the MOI. Although a matter of relative experiences for 1940 cinema-audiences, good quality actuality combat footage was rare, and in the main filmed from the ground by camera crews at Dover covering earlier Luftwaffe attacks. Similarly, the only usage of RAF aircraft being shot down was to project these, sometimes bizarrely, as German losses – any cinemagoer with a reasonable grasp of aircraft recognition could identify a Spitfire or Hurricane as it plunged to its doom. The conclusion of Movietone’s Hell Fire Corner on 5 September provided an example: ‘Nearly two thousand enemy planes destroyed during the first year’s defence of Britain. There goes a Heinkel 111!’ – the crashing Spitfire footage from the MOI’s The Front Line inaccurately included [606]. The same footage was used to simulate a crashing German bomber in Path´e’s Beaten Back issued on the same date [615]. More typically, such footage featured indistinct, distant aircraft, the nature of the fighting hard to determine. Me109s attacking barrage balloons were over-used to suggest combat, when in fact their pilots were frustrated by the lack of any RAF fighter response (a deliberate policy). Remote aircraft being shot down, and pilots descending by parachute, were difficult to secure for meaningful inclusion. Channel convoys being attacked by Stukas were included in newsreel items, even after such attacks had effectively ceased in later August and into September. Grainy AM-supplied gun-camera footage was made available but featured surprisingly rarely.

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Royal Air Force up and at ’em by Path´e was released on 15 August, and typified the coverage (1 m:50 s) [613]. The film’s initial sequence included Dover harbour, barrage balloons, a Channel convoy, anti aircraft guns and aerial scenes. In response to the threat, the RAF coverage began with pre-war Spitfire footage from Duxford being scrambled, followed by Hurricane material, and a variety of pre-war aerial scenes. This portrayed an extended air engagement including a Spitfire doing a roll, and distant footage of a battle. Several pilots on parachutes were shown, one whose canopy was so badly shredded that he could not have survived. The clip concluded with 12 Spitfires in squadron formation. The commentary ran, In their aerial Blitzkrieg on Britain, the Germans have lost hundreds of planes in a week or so. In attacking military objectives – and more often than not hitting non-military objects – they have paid a price which must give Goering a headache . . . Time and again the boys of the R.A.F. go into action. Up and at ’em, back for more ammunition and up and at ’em again. Tearing them out of the skies like grouse on ‘the twelfth’ of other years. Another Nazi goes down where he belongs – down, down into the waters of the English Channel, and it’s still the English Channel. Their planes torn apart by British fighters and withering shrapnel bursts, the Nazi pilots bail out one after the other, until they remind one of falling Autumn leaves . . . Again we salute the Royal Air Force. Filming the Few Not all newsreels focusing upon the RAF included footage of the pilots themselves, but where they did, their image was carefully managed to ensure key messages were projected. Foremost of these was well-led, calm and steady professionalism, the pilots functioning in a high-pressure combat environment against the odds, with modesty, resolution and cheerfulness. Although never stated or hinted at, panic, irresolution, fear and cowardice were not to be found amongst their young ranks. Close analysis of newsreel clips confirms that both officers and Sergeants were regularly filmed, no distinction drawn between them in so far as the RAF was concerned. These unruffled, smiling and laughing pilots, as Britain’s cinemagoers were reminded week after week, were fighting – and winning – for them. Various filmic tricks were used to capture these attributes. RAF pilots were filmed in close up as they joked, smiled and talked; sitting or standing informally in groups; as they (self-consciously) addressed the camera ‘live’; emplaning or deplaning, offering the ‘thumbs up’ as they did so. For example, R.A.F. Fighters Ever on the Alert appeared on 24 August wherein Movietone sought in a brief, if by now familiar style to convey the RAF’s preparedness based upon footage

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from a fighter squadron [605]. Hurricane fighters in the distance, and then six landing, perhaps following combat was narrated with: ‘Hurricanes come home. Our fighters land after a brisk but successful encounter with hit and run raiders. Here’s a typical scene at one of our fighter bases, between battles.’ Hurricanes being readied was followed by close ups of fighter pilots waiting at their dispersal. Smiling faces filled the screen, as the camera panned swiftly between pilots: ‘These are some of the boys who have already blunted Hitler’s air offensive. In due course they’ll stop it altogether.’ The film cut to a group shot of officers in Mae West life-jackets reading newspapers or relaxing: ‘They take it easy between raids, and there’s always plenty of sport to be had when there’s no serious work to be done in the sky’, the latter confirmed by ground crews playing football with a Hurricane in the background. The relaxed state of affairs was interrupted by the dispersal telephone, answered by a pilot: ‘When the alarm does come, not a second is lost.’ As the assembled pilots braced themselves, the pilot said in a clipped voice: ‘Blue section only’, at which its pilots ran for their Hurricanes, kitted up and strapped in. The narrator confirmed the RAF’s resolution: ‘While the public take shelter, our fighter pilots take off to destroy the enemy’, a pilot giving the thumbs up as he taxied away. Hurricanes taking off in a ‘vic’ formation, and flying low overhead, ended the item. Another example from Movietone With an Allied Fighter Command as a brief clip was released on 7 October, celebrating in part the contribution from foreign pilots with the RAF [608]. It began with a squadron of fighters landing, and cut to two RAF pilots near a tent giving a report to an IO. One, a British pilot claimed a Me110: ‘Yes, we ran into a bunch of about fifty of them today . . . about thirty bombers and about twenty escorting fighters’. Confirming the imperturbability of RAF pilots, he breezily ended his report with: ‘Well, I think a cup of tea is indicated now, don’t you?’ The film cut to a large group of Czech pilots standing in front of a Hurricane, where a senior Czech pilot talked to the camera in faltering English: We have escaped from our country, when the Germans invaded it. We have fought against our enemy in France. Now we have come to England to continue the fight. Our squadron has brought down thirty-three German planes in a month. We hope we shall bring down many more. A Spitfire performing a victory roll concluded the piece. There were frequent affirmations of gratitude to the fighter pilots, their prowess and valour captured in adulatory, sparkling language. Gaumont British News’ item on 15 August entitled RAF Smash Germany’s Aerial Blitzkrieg was typical [610]:

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A new dramatic phase in the Battle of Britain . . . But British fighters have brought the enemy down by scores every day . . . How can we find words to praise the RAF? Each day they fly into battle against heavy odds. Each day they come home victorious of the Germans . . . The proportion of losses is something like four German to one British. We pay tribute to those pilots who risk their lives for us. But this may be the turning point of the whole war – it is quality beating quantity. Wonderful men – wonderful planes – thank god for the Royal Air Force. Movietone’s Hell Fire Corner on 5 September [606] also highlighted the part played by the fighter pilots: It’s all part of the Battle of Britain. The most vital, spectacular and brilliant part of the great aerial campaign is being tamed by the Fighter Command. Constantly in action, the Hurricanes and Spitfires refuel and rearm, in preparation for the next encounter. Pilots flying these aircraft then appeared as head and shoulder close ups, wearing Mae Wests: ‘You all know the staggering losses suffered by the Germans, well these are the boys who are doing the trick.’ At this, a pilot climbed into a Hurricane followed by other views including some taking off, and a formation of six. On the same date, Beaten Back concluded with heartfelt thanks to the RAF: ‘And now, turning from the vile to the magnificent, let’s dwell on a happy landing. The end of another show brings fresh laurels to the RAF.’ A pilot demonstrating a dogfight drew the response that: ‘A Polish pilot doesn’t have to worry about the language problem – actions speak louder than words.’ As the film panned around a group of pilots in Mae Wests, it concluded: ‘To each and every one of them . . . Well done!’ [615]. The ‘scramble’ The ‘scramble’ was a frequent event, relaxed and resting pilots suddenly launching themselves into combat as a disciplined fighting force in response to a scramble bell or shouted order. This lent a sense of drama and pace, providing the visual dynamism that might otherwise be lacking if only narrated as pilots moved from waiting to dogfighting within minutes. Movietone’s 19 September Well Done! The Fighter Command illustrated the waiting, then scramble. It began with RAF pilots in Mae Wests standing in a small group, others playing catch or reading [607]. The narrator confirmed: ‘In a special message of congratulations to the Fighter Command, Mr Churchill says the results they have obtained give us just confidence in the approaching struggle.’ Brief footage of Canadian pilots smoking pipes or standing was embellished: ‘These are some of the pilots – Canadians – who are daily hurling Spitfire, Hurricane or Defiant into the masses

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the Nazis continually send against us.’ A Hurricane being serviced reminded the viewer of the effort involved in keeping aircraft airborne, quickly followed by a man telling pilots to scramble. As pilots ran to their Hurricanes the narrator confirmed: ‘Hitler has to gain the mastery of the air, but so long as the British Empire breeds men like these it is Britain who will gain and hold the mastery.’ And as the ground crew started aircraft engines: ‘The Fighter Command has already performed wonders and at every alarm it gains fresh [?]gold.’ The brief item concluded with Hurricanes taking off in ‘vics’; then one flying past, low and fast. Closure was achieved as pilots returned from a ‘show’ – to adulatory commentary from the narrator – and reported their ‘bag’ to the IO. On 7 October Gaumont British News released All in a Fighter’s Day’s Work [611], with the following text originally planned for the item confirming the need for a speedy response: At a moment’s notice the pilots and planes of any fighter station in Britain are ready to take the air. In a matter of seconds these defenders of the United Kingdom are away on what has now become a routine job – shooting down Nazis. We must never forget what a debt of gratitude we owe to this branch of the Royal Air Force. They have been destroying the enemy at the rate of four to one. Imagine what would have been our plight today if those figures had been reversed. A typical squadron under the Fighter Command returns home – doing the Victory Roll. On landing, the pilot’s report their bag to the Intelligence Officer. Czech and Polish pilots also are attached to this station. Their successes, under R.A.F. training and leadership, have been beyond praise. The final two sentences were not included in the version as screened [109, pp. 208–9], but the item continued using the same footage as featured in the Movietone newsreel With an Allied Fighter Command also released on 7 October, with several sentences not edited out of the pilot’s report. Notable is the reference to Churchill’s ‘to so few’ epigraph. The scramble was similarly given prominence on 7 October, in Path´e’s RAF Fighters in Close Up [617]. This reused material was first screened on 15 August in Royal Air Force up and at ’em; the former had been edited when compared with its originally planned commentary, running almost to 1.5 minutes. The latter was planned to be longer and focused in part upon Czech pilots, but the tone of the newsreel as screened remained very adulatory, and irreverent towards the Luftwaffe. It began breezily using pre-war scramble footage filmed at Duxford, the narrator confirming: ‘On the word scramble they’re in the cockpits of their Spitfires and Hurricanes before you can say Bob’s your uncle.’ Hurricanes were shown, one taking off: ‘There’s a job of work for these pilots, and boy, do they love their work.’ He continued: ‘Way up in the sky there are Messerschmitts,

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Junkers, Heinkels or Dorniers, that are going to get the thrashing of their lives.’ Spitfires and Hurricanes taking off, were followed by six Spitfires in line abreast and confirmed the RAF’s response to the latest air assault: ‘Here they come Jerry – you rotten swastinkers you.’ A facet that contributed to the Battle’s long standing appeal as a ‘chivalrous’, almost medieval joust between knights, was the absence of injury and death, whether through photographs or film. Dogfights were a remote experience for audiences, and they probably preferred it that way. Humour was an effective means of normalising an otherwise abstract mode of war making, combined in part with references to medieval knights as, for example, on 17 October by Path´e in Hot Moments at a Fighter Station (1:10) [618]. The by now familiar device of aircraft seen in loose formation high overhead, presaged a doggedly sharp response by the fighter pilots: ‘When the alert goes, the man in the street gets out of the street and gets on with his job . . . or stays put. But at a fighter station, things begin to warm up.’ Pilots ran from a building towards their aircraft, in what was probably pre-war footage, supplemented with word play: ‘Fighter pilots dash out of their Mess to make a mess of a Messerschmitt or two; while the ack-ack fellows roll out the gun barrel. There’s going to be a spot of bother for the Hun.’ Spitfires on the ground being taxied, or a pilot climbing into cockpit maintained the sense of a rapid response: ‘Spitfires are getting ready to spit, and in a moment their dare-devil pilots will be streaking away into the blue to give the Nazis another trouncing.’ With poor attention to authenticity, a training aircraft took off to simulate a fighter, followed by Spitfires in loose formation. A crashed Me109 fighter confirmed their prowess: ‘That’s one in the bag.’ Spitfires and Hurricanes returned to base, the commentator unable to resist a parallel with chivalrous medieval jousting: ‘The job done, and the enemy on the run, the tough young pilots return, like the valiant knights of old. But the steeds of our modern knights have wings, and, my word, what a kick!’ A suitably relaxed Spitfire pilot deplaned: ‘Back he comes, to report ‘‘All well’’ .’ Spitfires were refuelled and rearmed: ‘And now it’s the turn of the ground staff . . . they’re a grand lot of fellows. Machines have to be refuelled, and reloaded with ammunition . . . the stuff that makes an enemy gunner a goner.’ Reinforcing the RAF’s aircraft claims For the heavily outnumbered RAF’s claims to be believed, the newsreels had to play their part. A striking contribution – anticipating later disputes – appeared in The Tactics of Air Supremacy by Movietone. Released on 15 July, it was a surprisingly detailed and lengthy item when compared to later newsreel content [603]. The original commentary ran to 577 words, complemented by a range of actual and graphic images. The images included Hurricanes, Heinkel 111s, crashed German aircraft, RAF gun-camera footage and doomed aircraft viewed from the ground. In some respects it might easily have been adapted as a basic

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training film for pilots, so focused was it upon aerial tactics, complete with visuals at times not dissimilar to comparable Disney cartoon graphics and sound effects. Views inside the Spitfire cockpit of instruments and the gun sight in use, anticipated combat flight simulator games. Its commentary began, The amazing exploits of British fighters fill the nation with pride and gratitude. Each day brings its story of daring and gallant action of which we’ve tried to give you the pictures. Usually this has been in the form of wrecked bombers, and on another occasion we showed you shots by camera gun, located in a fighter, which recorded the actual destruction of the enemy in the air. Now we’re going to describe to you how the results are achieved . . . Their skill and the quality of our aircraft have combined brilliantly to evolve certain, successful tactics. What then followed was a fictitious attack upon a Heinkel 111 by a Spitfire, details of its crew, defensive armament and weaknesses being described and illustrated by graphic images. Turning its attention to the Spitfire, the commentary continued, Among fighters, the fastest in the world today is probably the Spitfire . . . The German armour has to suffer a simultaneous stream of fire, which focusing on a point 250 yards ahead, at a rate of 9,600 bullets a minute, can saw through steel plate. Our Spitfire has a top speed of 387 miles an hour. It travels a hundred yards in about half a second. A pilot’s report – delivered by a different narrator – conveyed the process of pursuit, interspersed with further details from the original commentator. The attack description was concluded with ‘Only the gun in the nose, and the gun below are left to train their limited field of fire. The bomber pilot is unprotected, and the Spitfire pilot finishes the job.’ The item ended with the following summation, setting the scene for the air battles and disputes about claims to come: And that’s the story behind the amazing air exploits of recent weeks. One final thought: don’t be confused by lying German claims. The Nazis have always falsified their aviation reports for home consumption. The truth is in the mutilated hulks of German bombers strewn around our coasts and countryside . . . shattered . . . by brilliant tactics, superb courage and wonderful machines. Slightly later an RAF superiority of ‘five to one’ in terms of losses was often trumpeted, newsreel propagandists wasting little time in affirming this news. For

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example, virtually a week into the German’s massive Adlerangriff assault against Britain, Movietone’s Britain’s Air Toll of Nazi Blitzkrieg released on 19 August extolled RAF claims on 15 August [604]. Its commentary – responding to Adler Tag – began: ‘The German air force apparently had instructions to do something about the day, and what it did was to lose 169 planes in mass attacks on British harbours, shipping, and aerodromes.’ Further on, and mindful of the controversy over RAF victory claims, the narration continued: Here are a couple of things that prove how carefully RAF figures are compiled. The German plane falls into the sea. A Hurricane, either the one who shot him down or another who witnessed the combat, circles over the spot to confirm that the German was a total loss. RAF figures are compiled in this way, with an independent witness besides the pilot who claimed the victory. A distant Hurricane fighter wheeled obligingly. In response to a distant view of a single aircraft, the narrator continued: ‘Fritz comes over looking very perky but probably feels quite the reverse, and heads inland . . . And word is sent to those jaunty Hurricane fighters who climb to meet him’; six Hurricanes taking off in formation, heading into action, were followed by a full squadron of 12 fighters in four ‘vics’. ‘The battle is fought above the clouds but this is how it ends.’ The by now familiar views of crashed German bombers and fighters were used as a visual reinforcement of the film’s final segment: One more of the 169 . . . another . . . and another. 169 in one day, the equivalent of twelve or fourteen squadrons. How long can the Nazi air force stand such losses which on August fifteenth were in the ratio of five to one? Yet you can see their problem: they must strike now or Britain’s output of aircraft becomes overwhelming. We can do all this wreckage, in the Prime Minister’s phrase, not without relish. The Bosch got just what was coming to him, and on his own day. On the same date, Path´e released Aerial Blitzkrieg – Continues (2:02) [614]. As nine Spitfires in formation flew over, the commentator affirmed, Another instalment of the greatest aerial story of all time. A story of the continued heroism of our marvellous Air Force . . . And the Battle of Britain is being fought out in British skies with increasing intensity. The fiercest aerial battles in history have resulted in Hitler’s vaunted air force receiving the soundest thrashing it has ever had. Hundreds of miles of countryside are littered with the crashed and burnt out planes of Nazi Germany . . . Never before has the screen shown such wholesale destruction of an aerial armada, bearing witness to the righteous indignation and fury of our airmen and

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gunners, at the pollution of our skies and the dastardly attacks on British homes. Wherever the foul sign of the Swastika casts its evil shadow, there will we strike hard in the sacred cause of freedom. High RAF victory claims were accepted without qualms, the message always: the RAF is winning handsomely, and will continue to do so. Other tactics were frequently to confirm these very high German losses with (numerous) images of crashing or crashed aircraft. Aircraft victory claims were for example clearly an issue as September’s vicious air battles wore on. On 19 September, Movietone’s The RAF’s Reply [607] sought in part to confirm the validity of the AM’s claims: ‘The Nazis may be bombing Britain, but Britain is taking toll of the raiders. A recent record was 191 known to be destroyed in one day, bringing the total for nine days to 475.’ The film then cut to London and the remains of a bomber: ‘that crashed at Victoria Station after being shot down over Buckingham Palace’. He continued in a voiceover to various remains of crashed aircraft, and reached a conclusion: ‘Goering sends his masses of planes against us, but our gunners and our fighters, to quote the Premier, cut them to rags and tatters.’ RAF Fighters in Close Up conveyed a similar message at its conclusion: ‘By their epic deeds they are swinging the Battle of Britain into the Battle of Germany. The day’s toll ends in the victory roll. During the past two months, RAF victories have meant that the Germans have lost one plane every forty-two minutes.’ In a sharp, humorous comment on the realities of air fighting, a German bomber crashed on the shoreline drew the final, cricketing riposte: ‘How’s that Mr. Goebbels?’ But as the Nazi pilot said when he crashed, ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought this up’ [617]. The reference to Dr Joseph Goebbels was common throughout the Battle, his position as the Nazi Propaganda Minister inevitably one to attract derisive comment as events moved Britain’s way. A multinational Fighter Command Foreign aircrews were well distributed amongst the RAF and newsreels were keen to project this multinational aspect of Fighter Command through dedicated items, a coalition of the willing, determined to vanquish Hitler. Visits by Heads of State were therefore valuable propaganda opportunities, Britain a host to many foreign nationals fighting on its behalf in RAF squadrons. A Path´e newsreel (0.38), on 12 August entitled President Benes with Czech Air Force was typical [612]. Czech officers and airmen were shown on parade and being inspected by Benes, frequently with aircraft such as a Wellington, behind them. The commentary elaborated: ‘Czechoslovakian airmen now stationed at Royal Air Force centres in Britain, are inspected by President Benes, at a visit to Czech fighter and bomber squadrons. When France capitulated on June the seventeenth hundreds of these men succeeded in escaping to this country in French aircraft.’ Confirming Czech fighting engagement, a ‘vic’ of Hurricanes flew past at low

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height: ‘They have already taken part in some of the heaviest fighting against Germany.’ Benes inspected a Hurricane, and other aircraft interspersed with Czech pilots: ‘Czechoslovakia will settle her account against Hitler, with interest. We can bank on her Czechs.’ Path´e covered King George VI’s Royal Visit to the RAF on 3 October, also to foreign airmen (0:35) [616]: ‘Down the lines of an RAF Guard of Honour walks the King, as he comes to make personal contact with Canadians who are among the victorious harvesters of the air.’ Hurricanes in flight, the airfield, airmen, and pilots in Mae Wests being introduced to the King, were featured: ‘At this station, Canadian and Polish airmen take the air together; the book containing this Polish squadron’s history of the war is a treasure well worth seeing. They have a fine record these Poles.’ It concluded: ‘Eighty German planes in one month is good shooting.’ This attention was not only confined to Europeans and members of the Empire. Towards the end of the Battle the AM developed American propaganda potential further, motivated by a determination to engage US support. Path´e’s 21 October newsreel, of just over two minutes and entitled American Squadron with the R.A.F. was typical of the newsreel coverage announcing the formation of the Eagle Squadron [619]. It began with several US pilots and officers, some looking at the cockpit of a Miles Master two-seat advanced trainer. The commentator was praiseworthy about their contribution: ‘More American aid for Britain! This time it is man power, for a number of US airmen have volunteered for service with the RAF with . . . the Eagle Squadron as it is called.’ Doubtless mindful of the RAF’s fighter pilots’ likely reaction to such publicity for as yet untested American fliers, the new commander affirmed: ‘Eagle Squadron is now being formed . . . we hope to carry on in some measure, the magnificent work of our British contemporaries in the Royal Air Force.’ Reflecting the nascent state of the new squadron, some nine trainers took off in formation in a simulated scramble. Mindful that further south the RAF were doing so for real the narrator paid tribute to the outstanding success of the RAF’s front line: ‘All these young Americans have come here at their own expense, for the honour of fighting side by side with the Royal Air Force in wiping out the Nazi Luftwaffe from the skies.’ Newsreels eschewed footage of dead and grievously wounded or burned pilots and aircrews, not least because they found it difficult to acquire. Rarely, viewers might see a tiny pilot hurtling to earth suspended beneath a badly burnt parachute, but his death was a remote event, as was a distant aircraft crashing into the sea when filmed from the shore. Modest injuries were tolerated: a British Naval officer tending a Luftwaffe aircrew man’s minor injury was fine, but bloody wounds less so. Acknowledgments of death in action were rare. An exception was made in the case of an undeniably gallant American pilot yet with limited combat experience, grievously burnt after combat on 16 August. Whilst this coverage must have been rather galling for the colleagues of many

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British pilots who had been killed in action yet remained anonymous, for the AM this propaganda opportunity was too good to miss. All the newsreels covered the story, Movietone’s on 24 August, entitled American RAF Pilot Honoured at Burial, typical [605]. The full commentary ran, Back to Britain and the war. At Foxgrove in Sussex, the funeral of the first American serving as an officer in the RAF, to lose his life in action in this war. Pilot Officer Fiske, came to Britain to enlist just before war broke out. He brought down several enemy planes, but although after his last flight he landed his machine safely, he later died from his wounds. Britain pays tribute to a gallant American who gave his life in our cause. In a brief clip, viewers saw the funeral procession, burial service, fellow RAF pilots, a rifle salute and officers saluting Fiske’s grave. John Nicolson VC Awards for heroism featured occasionally, Hurricane Pilot John Nicolson, the only fighter pilot to win the VC, the focus of several newsreels in November. Path´e released their version on 21 November, in Won V.C. in First Fight (1:10) [620]. The commentary confirmed: ‘No braver deed on any of the war fronts has been recorded than that which won the VC for Flight Lieutenant J.B. Nicolson. With multiple wounds, and his plane ablaze he power dived and shot down his opponent before bailing out.’ The voiceover supplemented a peaceful caf´e setting (in stark contrast to the heroic deed being acknowledged), where Nicolson shared a small table with two other RAF officers. Nicolson talked light-heartedly, but self-consciously – separately, Mrs Nicolson confirmed how proud she was. Portraying the Luftwaffe Portrayals of the Luftwaffe were not flattering as the fighting became entrenched. As Churchill suggested, for Britain to be successfully projected in a powerful and capable light it had to be seen to be both pitted against and then prevail over a formidable foe. Nevertheless, newsreel projections moved away from a respectful portrayal of the enemy; where they had once been feared for their prowess, disparagement began to develop. The fighting prowess of the Luftwaffe was increasingly questioned, tens of captured German POWs dismissed with expressions such as ‘jaunty Jerry’, ‘foolhardy Fritz’ or ‘hapless Hun’, with allegations that Nazi airmen attacked lightships, hospital ships and civilian targets, or shot down barrage balloons, none of which could ‘shoot back’. The machine-gunning of RAF pilots on parachutes, or women and children in the streets was also noted. An example was projected in British Paramount News’ Battle of Britain released on 19 August [609]. The footage included the Luftwaffe bombing a lightship, German aircraft being shot down, aircraft wreckage and

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POWs – clearly unhappy at being filmed. The original commentary text contrasted the illegal deeds of the Nazis with the swift and just retribution exacted by the RAF: High above the coast of Britain, in the misty clouds that drift above this little island kingdom – a silent sentinel. Never a day passes but raiders come to challenge our security . . . Then comes the reckoning: Hurricanes and Spitfires are bringing down the German bombers and fighters in tens and scores and hundreds; in every dogfight, the British pilot is top dog. Once again the sky is filled with parachutes as the Nazi pilots and crews bale out . . . When a British pilot bales out he comes down among friends; a Nazi in Britain is grounded for the duration. When more than a thousand planes attack in one day there must be damage. But these brutal attempts are secured at such a cost as in the end must break the rule of force forever. Path´e’s release on 5 September of Beaten Back sought to reassure the public that the situation was well under control (1:37) [615]. It began with a Do17 bomber, followed by a Me109 attacking a barrage balloon. The narrator continued with a charge of cowardice: ‘With the formation rapidly getting split up, several of the raiders emulate Atlantic flyer ‘‘Wrong Way Corrigan’’ and beat it for the French Coast as Hurricane and Spitfires roar into action.’ This segment was supplemented with a fleeting glimpse of France, a Hurricane taking off, and a burning balloon. More anti-aircraft guns, flak and Hurricanes in two ‘vics’ led to: ‘Six British fighters, forty-eight deadly machine guns and a wild aerial dogfight make the Jerries wish they’d had more training.’ A distant dogfight, and Dornier Do17 confirmed the action: ‘A Nazi bomber comes into the gun sights of one of our fighters, a devastating burst of fire and down he goes into the moat’ followed by what was intended to be the bomber crashing into the sea (actually MOI’s The Front Line footage of a Spitfire). The film changed abruptly to a barrage balloon: ‘Meanwhile, Matilda’s sisters are on the way up and look down on a couple of Goering’s young rats who now seem to favour the machine gunning of any British airman baling out by parachute, as an added experience to bombing and gunning women and children.’ German aircrew POWs with guards were shown. The film’s final sequence focused upon the RAF’s prowess, a powerful juxtaposition of good versus evil.

American newsreels American newsreel companies operated according to British principles, with an inevitable time lag in supplying reasonably current materials to domestic American audiences. For ‘hot’ news, transatlantic wireless broadcasts were much better for those keen to follow the events, but lacked visual reinforcement.

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Despite the isolationist stance of many Americans, newsreel editions featured coverage of the ‘war in Europe’, where, during 1940 as a whole, 18.6 per cent of all major coverage addressed aspects of this – 4947 newsreel ‘clips’ were produced in that year [189, p. 290]. Clearly, this encompassed considerably more than the Battle, the Blitz of more interest to many [284, p. 131]. Five major American companies provided newsreels to cinemas along similar lines to the British system: Paramount, Path´e, Fox Movietone, Universal and News of the Day [189, p. 289]. These were exported to international markets, unless banned by pro-German countries for anti-Nazi content. March of Time, although not a major player, was nevertheless a significant newsreel company producing documentaries [188, p. 339]. On Foreign Newsfronts was an amalgam of varied subjects, both European and Asiatic, with an emphasis upon American reporters’ successes in ‘bringing home the news’. This included footage filmed by Arthur Menken at Dover [188, p. 267]. As the war progressed into 1940 March of Time became increasingly pro-British. March of Time’s first American screening of Britain’s RAF (17 minutes) in October, was an important contribution to promoting an awareness of Britain’s plight [188, p. 339], its British release in November [109, p. 215] – M-O prepared a report on the newsreel dated 15 November [596]. This confirms the delay between distant events and US reportage in that the fighting had been growing increasingly fierce and bitter from early July, yet did not feature as the subject of an episode until three months later. Michael Paris suggests that the foundations of the Few’s filmic heroicising were first hinted at in this production [289, p. 129], but this does not square with the newsreel chronology, or indeed The Lion has Wings (Chapter 10). As noted above, allowing for the March of Time’s tendency to aggrandise slightly for the purposes of cinematic impact, very positive British newsreel publicity about the Few pre-dated Britain’s RAF almost from the beginning. For fiercely loyal British newsreel companies this was a somewhat aggravating outcome: Aldgate recounts the bitterness they felt towards the MOI for allowing March of Time such full, privileged access to the RAF at the height of its struggle with the Luftwaffe, that they were generally denied [109, p. 210]. Interestingly, the items themselves do not suggest limited airfield and squadron access for British newsreel teams. Both the MOI and FO applied pressure on the AM to provide this support, America deemed a more vital propaganda constituency for its one significant treatment of the Few’s successes [256, p. 36]. It was not until 1943 and The Battle of Britain feature length propaganda film that its film-makers would show renewed interest (Chapter 10). Reel one of Britain’s RAF began with an RAF man and ‘ENGLAND’ as a text overlay. The Houses of Parliament were glimpsed, after which, cliff tops near Dover, two observers scanning the skies. They reported attacking bombers and fighters that were portrayed through film footage, a coastline visible through

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the nose of a He111. A mock RAF operations room, followed by a scramble bell scene with RAF pilots at dispersal running good-humouredly towards Spitfires, was accompanied by strident American narration: ‘Men and women of Britain – men of the RAF – odds, valour and overwhelming superiority as soldiers with wings – front-line heroes in the Battle of Britain.’ Spitfires headed into action, sourced from stock footage of formation flying, or peeling off into attacks. Aerial combat ensued over the cliffs around Dover, filmed from the ground. The sequence included buildings on fire, and an air raid shelter with civilians. Shifting focus again, merchant navy cargo and stores ships were unloaded, Britain’s dependence upon these supplies affirmed, as was the might of the RN. Providing historical context, the much-reduced (and obsolescent) interwar RAF was reflected through biplane formations at major air shows, the emphasis moving to ‘Goering’s Luftwaffe rearming and building up numbers again’ – and German aircraft. ‘Britain has mastery of the seas, but what of the air?’ the narrator asked, setting the scene for the early war period. Various aircraft factory views in Britain featured as the chronology moved to Spring 1940, confirming the RAF’s pressing need for fighters and bombers: ‘New planes being provided for the RAF, and also from America’ viewers were told. RAF recruitment and training was addressed extensively, the narrator stating breezily that the ‘Air army is the best in the world – and recruits from all over the Commonwealth.’ The Canadian air-training scheme for British and Empire pilots was the next topic, turning out ‘15000 RAF pilots a year in Canada’ requiring ‘highly specialised knowledge to qualify as a pilot – takes ten months. 150 hours of advanced training in the air’, as a voiceover to recruits in training and classroom sessions. Narrative focus was then brought to the summer of 1940 affirming Hitler’s war aims, and France’s utter defeat. The Battle followed: ‘Young men of the RAF – startling news.’ A text frame followed this: In all the tragic months of the Second World War no name has shone with greater glory than that of Britain’s RAF. The sequence returned to England’s cliffs around Dover, with the narration: ‘Hitler’s aim is to invade Britain. The Luftwaffe’s aim is to gain mastery of the air, with forty million people in the front lines of battle.’ Evidence of Britain’s defiance was conveyed through Blenheims in flight, RAF pilots with ground crews, the Home Guard, barrage balloons, soldiers and naval guns. Hurricane fighters flew low over anti-aircraft guns, and the film cut to a view of the AM in London, and thence a meeting where the Air Council was in session. The narrator confirmed that ‘world attention is focused upon the Air Ministry in Whitehall’ in ‘The First World War of the air’. A scenic map of Britain and

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France confirmed the strategic context. In reel two, protecting merchant convoys, Sunderland aircraft and Coastal Command were addressed in detail with varying footage. Refocusing upon Fighter Command, the 29 Squadron crest was followed with Spitfire footage. Brisk narrative embellishment reminded viewers that In 1940’s historic Battle of Britain, no branch of the RAF has seen more arduous service than the Fighter Command. Under able Air Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding (with brief film of him, pilots shown at readiness and a Spitfire) the thousands of flyers, veterans and youngsters who pilot England’s squadrons of deadly Spitfires and 400 mile an hour Hurricanes have become the dreaded nemesis of Adolf Hitler’s highly touted Luftwaffe. Spitfires in squadron formation, followed by Spitfires peeling off in diving attacks to dogfight were used as the narration continued: ‘Day after day . . . the men of the Fighter Command taking to the skies are proving to all the world not only that their equipment is unsurpassed in speed and manoeuvrability, but that the RAF is the more daring and experienced.’ Next, Luftwaffe POWs, followed by a young ‘German’ airman confirmed the hazards: a ‘nineteen year old – seventy-five hours in the air’ (in a faultless American accent) said that they were ‘surprised by one of your fighter planes – a new type of plane – too fast for us’. The adulatory commentary continued: ‘To the RAF pilot has come rich reward for his months of nerve-wracking strain, for his perilous hours of daily combat above the earth . . . cutting down the numerical superiority of Nazi air power from its one time peak of five to one.’ Next, RAF fighter pilots were interviewed by an IO about their combat successes and claims, interspersed with airfield and office scenes. Britain’s RAF reached a climax with the zealous affirmation of RAF air power. Aware of audiences in the United States – and her contentious support for Britain – the narrator confirmed that the ability to fight on depended upon an ability to maintain supplies of American war materiel (the implied claim to already extensive US support misleading in October 1940). There’ll Always be an England, popularised by Alfred Piccaver in 1939, featured as a rousing finale, RAF trainee personnel singing it en masse. The narrator concluded with a phrase strongly echoing Churchill’s epigraph: ‘Today, as the war goes on the Royal Air Force is the toast not only of the British Empire, but of the whole democratic world. For never in all history have so few men rendered such great service to so many.’ In some respects the film was too ambitious in its aims [289, p. 129], but for an audience unfamiliar with either the RAF or the Battle, for its length – Aldgate, who details some of the commentary, suggests it was a ‘mini-feature film’ [109, p. 210] – Britain’s RAF was as good as most other treatments of

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the Service and its war making. It was also significant as blatant propaganda directed at American audiences. The Aeroplane carried an enthusiastic review of the film in its 8 November edition, the editorial staff confirming that ‘there is little in the film to find fault with, and we have no compunction in labelling it the best about the R.A.F. which has ever been made’; tellingly, they thought its 18 minutes contained ‘more excellent British propaganda than has issued from the Ministry of Information in 14 months’ [489, p. 502]. Its 22 November issue carried a two-page feature showing a series of 22 stills, with annotations [491, pp. 576–576a]. It was a fitting documentary conclusion.

MOI ‘shorts’ MOI coverage of the Few was very slight in comparison with the commercial newsreels, the sheer bulk of interest reasonably deemed sufficient. Any regular cinemagoer during the summer and autumn of 1940 would have agreed that the RAF received substantial and positive filmic attention, an MOI Crown Film Unit ‘short’ on the subject unlikely to add much. Discussed below, only two films constituted the MOI’s engagement with Fighter Command as the principal filmic focus. With hindsight it seems a meagre official contribution, but only when the mass of media coverage of the RAF is ignored. Moreover, a significant amount of newsreel material was provided by the AM and MOI, the censorship controls ensuring that only approved messages were screened. The MOI’s Crown Film Unit did not exist before the war; previously the GPO’s Film Unit, it was a well-respected organisation [54, p. 339] that was subsumed within the MOI in April, its filmic tradition being continued in the early war years [150, ch. 5]. Reflecting the MOI’s aims, most ‘shorts’ were generally less concerned with very ‘hot’ news, but instead focused upon themes not always specifically linked to pressing events [150, chs 4–6; 289, pp. 127–32; 306, pp. 150–61]. This approach was developed from the summer of 1940, with systematic propagandising through the medium of shorts on different subjects [150, p. 92]. Some 1400 films were produced during the war years [150, p. 86]. The MOI Film Division was responsible for their commissioning, typically of between five and ten minutes in length – five the usual running time [150, p. 95] – and far less often running up to 30 minutes. Screened almost incidentally before main cinema features, shorts jostled for programme space with newsreels. MOI films could additionally be screened on a mobile projector ‘anywhere in the country’, a leaflet being published to advertise this service. By early October The Times confirmed that the MOI had advertised the availability of projection vans for bookings in ‘Films for villages – 1000 shows a week’ [553, p. 7, col. b]. Most pre-Battle shorts paid little attention to the RAF, any coverage derived from stock footage. The RAF’s defensive role in Squadron 992 (26 minutes, 1940) was more illuminating. It presented a somewhat humorous dramatisation of

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an RAF barrage-balloon squadron’s role defending the Forth Bridge from air attack. Directed by Harry Watt, he reflected, however, that by June 1940 it was already out of date [347, p. 134]. Americans saw a truncated version, Flying Elephants [347, p. 134]. Watt describes the artful interplay between the dog and hare scenes, interspersed with a Spitfire relentlessly hunting down an attacking ‘German’ bomber; notionally a Heinkel He111 but actually an RAF Blenheim, as seen at the film’s conclusion [347, p. 133]. Both despatched their prey in one of the earlier filmic portrayals of the Spitfire in its air-defence role. F.T. Jesse in writing about her young neighbour – a Spitfire pilot – having shot down a bomber over the Firth of Forth, gave such incidents a more poetic quality: But love is the more beautiful for the lust that is inextricably mingled with it, and the same thing, I think, applies to the high qualities of a fighting man in relation to the ecstasy of the hunt and the kill, even when the quarry is another human being. [220, p. 218] The Story of an Air Communiqu´e As noted, the MOI’s coverage of the Few’s exploits amounted to only two ‘shorts’ giving complete attention to the RAF, but their spirit was effectively captured. Both were made relatively late given the RAF’s extensive media coverage. The Story of an Air Communiqu´e (6 minutes) was wholly concerned with the accuracy of RAF fighter pilots’ claims, and produced by the GPO Film Unit. M-O’s first review of the film was dated 27 November, months later than the claims controversy during August [596], but it may have been released earlier given the AM’s concern to reassure the public about the RAF’s claims. The film began with title shots of a Spitfire doing aerobatics, and then cut to text confirming that the film used ‘Officers and men of the Royal Air Force’, with AM permission. Over this, and a Hurricane landing, the narrator began, The fifteenth of September 1940. The air communiqu´e announced 185 enemy planes down. Why did the world accept the accuracy of our figures? Because the world knew how carefully those figures were checked before they were at last announced. At the fighter station, as each pilot lands from his scrap, the Intelligence Officer is waiting for his story. The film then briskly cut to a Spitfire landing, having just returned from action, where a groundcrewman asked its junior officer pilot, Wick (a fictional name): ‘How d’you get on sir?’ ‘I had a wonderful party, thanks.’ ‘Good-oh, splendid.’

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After a slight gap as the squadron IO (Tony) talked to another pilot, Wick then confirmed his claims to him, as he stood next to his Spitfire. The IO began, ‘Are you alright?’ ‘Oh, fine thanks, Tony.’ ‘How d’you get on? Did you get any of the blighters?’ ‘Yes, I got a Messerschmitt 109 and a Dornier.’ ‘Well let’s hear about the bomber first.’ ‘Well the Dornier, oh, he was easy.’ ‘Yes, but did you actually see him crash?’ ‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I couldn’t wait to see – the 109 jumped on me out of the sun. I got him anyway – the pilot bailed out.’ ‘Yes, but the Dornier, did you see any of his crew bail out?’ ‘No’ ‘Was anybody near you at the time?’ ‘The CO was away to my left.’ After this, the CO returned from combat, also being asked for his report (he claimed a He111 ditched in the sea, the crew seen in a dinghy). Reminding the viewer of the hazards of air fighting, personnel inspected his Spitfire and remarked on the slight damage sustained in action. The CO unable to confirm Wick’s claim for the Dornier, in an airfield crew-room with him and other pilots, the IO sought further details: ‘Well Wick, we’ll just have to get it taped from your combat report. What range did you close at?’ ‘Well, I was pretty close, Tony. When I had finished squirting I could see the whites of the blighter’s eyes.’ ‘Oh yeah?’ ‘Anyway, black smoke was pouring from both engines, rudder shot away and down he went.’ ‘But did you actually see flames issuing from the aircraft?’ ‘No, but . . . ’ ‘You didn’t see it break up in the air; you didn’t see it hit the ground or the sea? And did you see anybody bail out?’ ‘No, ’fraid not.’ ‘Then the Air Ministry’s rulings are that it can only possibly be a probable.’ Such tough, detailed debriefings, and cross-checking claims with other pilots as witnesses, were intended to reassure viewers. Unmoved by pilots’ exuberance and unwilling to accept uncorroborated accounts, they quizzed over the details. A pilot’s vague answer – or a lack of witnesses – inevitably earned a ‘probable’ rather than ‘confirmed’ claim.

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Figures from these and other squadrons’ claims were next forwarded to the Group HQ for processing, where RAF staff collated them as ‘they pour in’. Thereafter, Fighter Command (HQ) received them and they were checked again, senior officers discussing the total claims, the aim to confirm the extensive checks at different stages of the intelligence assessments and to iron out contradictions. In one instance a duplicated claim was identified – two pilots shooting at the same aircraft – and the RAF was thus able to demonstrate its firm approach to ‘claims disallowed’. A brief clip of a crashed German fighter on English soil was a useful backdrop for the narrator who explained that the Army and RN had also claimed successes. During this section there were two clips of RAF fighters having been shot down – one the Watt footage from Dover of a Spitfire – used to portray enemy aircraft. Fighter Command’s duty Air Commodore was handed the collated results and registering (delightedly) how high the total was, he asked for confirmation that they had been checked. All claims figures were then forwarded to ‘Air Intelligence 6’ at the AM, the extent of this activity revealed by a closed door. The final link was for an AM communiqu´e to be released by the MOI. News correspondents in the MOI’s Press Room were told in a read communiqu´e that the combined RAF and antiaircraft defences had shot down 185 aircraft. Immediately upon learning these totals members of the world’s press rushed for the telephones in various booths, whose doors carried the titles of various international press agencies, or were seen typing up their reports for the same purpose. The film concluded with brief footage of a Luftwaffe aircraft’s tail-plane jutting forlornly out of the sea, and a final comment: ‘A hundred and eighty five is the figure, and that’s not counting the probables and the damaged. I wonder how many of them reported back to Goering?’ Direct in its confirmation of AM integrity, the short sought to address the issues in a clear fashion. Echoing newsreels with its mix of aircraft, action and ‘backroom’ activity, it avoided being dull and lifeless. The pilots themselves appeared calm, confident and professional, the shooting down of enemy aircraft in dangerous conditions little more than bagging grouse. They were also well spoken and for cinema audiences at least, would have given the sense of middle- and upper-class young men being in the majority amongst the RAF’s pilots (in contrast to the newsreels where Sergeants were also frequently seen). As for impact, an M-O survey established that the short made no appreciable impact upon public confidence in AM claims, most viewers already content to accept the figures as broadcast and published [57, p. 33]. After late-September it mattered less. Fighter Pilot Conversely, Fighter Pilot (8 minutes) was essentially a day in the life of one of the Few, using mostly accurate and relevant new or stock footage. British Movietone

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News produced the film for the MOI, some footage filmed of Spitfires and pilots. An M-O report dated 7 December is their first assessment of the film, suggesting a slow MOI release to cinemas [596]. Given the extensive, parallel newsreel coverage of the RAF it is not surprising that the MOI did not further exploit the propaganda opportunities through shorts. Sir Philip Joubert as the narrator acknowledged as much in his introduction to this rather clumsily edited, if briskly paced film. Following the title sequence the film began with a stationary Spitfire viewed from the front, cutting rapidly to images of cheerful fighter pilots waiting at dispersal, and then Hurricanes. Joubert began, Fighter pilot. The words convey something of the spirit that lies in our squadrons, something young and vigorous, decisive, wanting action at once, and finding its expression in the struggle going on daily over our south-eastern shores. He continued that although viewers have heard and seen much about the RAF’s fighters’ activities in defending British airspace, little had been said about what it entails, and how tough a job it can be. The film’s focus changed again, this time to an airfield with numerous Hurricanes, but these appear of pre-war vintage. A scramble followed using 19 Squadron pre-war Spitfires, with pilots rushing to their aircraft, after which the attention shifted to a large operations room, originally seen in The Lion Has Wings. Pilots were shown as individuals, the faces of individuals standing in a group in front of a Spitfire, reminding us that these were brave and capable young men, fighting for Britain. The complexities of flying a modern high-speed fighter were addressed next, the viewer invited to wonder at the challenges of learning to fly a Spitfire, an instrument panel and controls in a cockpit revealed. A pilot in full flying kit demonstrated the awkwardness of waddling gracefully whilst wearing a Mae West and a parachute. Once seated, details were given of the ‘cap’, or flying helmet, and goggles, after which ground crew strapped him in, the harness greatly restricting his room for movement in the confined space. His radiotelephone and oxygen mask were then briefly explained, it being essential to maintain communications with his pilot colleagues whilst breathing effectively at high altitudes. Demonstrating the flying skill needed to pilot a Spitfire, one took off, with studio shots interspersed of a pilot operating the control column, and then raising the wheels once airborne. The film cut between a single aircraft and a formation of twelve as they ascended to battle height. Reminded that ‘it is cold up there’, an altimeter recorded a steady climb: 5000–10,000–15,000–20,000 feet. Close up studio views of the Squadron Leader were edited with those of his formation – in ‘vics’ of three, with a ‘tail-end Charlie’ – as they searched for the enemy above the cloud base, the freezing conditions requiring extra engine

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heating. Viewers were reminded that oxygen at that height was vital to stave off depression and a loss of sharp reflexes. Battle was joined, confirmed Joubert: Suddenly the leader, who has been keeping up a two-way conversation with ground control, which is directing him onto the enemy, sights something. Tally Ho! There they are, Jerries! He fires – there’s a stream of lead from the guns and he’s got him. That’s one down. A crudely edited mixture of some combat actuality or stock footage confirmed the dogfights, RAF fighters frequently used to represent Luftwaffe aircraft. A Stuka, Do17, Hurricane, a second Hurricane, Me108, Ju88, Spitfire streaming smoke, Me110 and He111 with wheels down were mixed with Spitfires and Hurricanes, some clearly not engaged in combat. German aircraft had been sourced from RAF gun-camera footage, the damaged RAF fighters filmed from the ground. Close-up, ground-produced special effects film of an RAF fighter’s gun ports showed machine-guns being fired, these featuring frequently in Dangerous Moonlight and several other films of this period. The dogfighting sequences gave some indication of the nature of such combats: a big, empty sky, contrails, diving aircraft, the difficulties of identification and the risks of being attacked and hit. For the lay viewer it would seem plausible as a representation of the summer’s air battles. Next, victorious aircraft returned to base having shot down several of the enemy, the narrator ungrudgingly confirmed, And that’s that. And so, back to the aerodrome, stiff and cold, but very pleased with life. The pilot is brought back to realities by depressed-looking airmen pointing to a large hole in the wing, the inference being that he is a bad pilot to allow himself to be shot up. The hole, not far from the cockpit, was a graphic reminder of the hazards, but the pilot appeared light-heartedly unconcerned. The film drew to a close with many images of the Few waiting in their crew room to be scrambled again; some were asleep, some resting and others passing the time. Joubert concluded the film with a gentle reminder: When you read in your morning newspaper that our fighters have brought down ten or twenty enemy aircraft, please visualise what you have seen today. Wish them luck, happy landings and a good rest after labour. It offered a matter-of-fact approach to conveying the daily combat experiences of RAF pilots and avoided the adulatory approach taken in many contemporary

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newsreel treatments. Perhaps its later 1940 production date was a factor, Joubert and other RAF senior officers concerned to show that the summer’s victories had not been as easily achieved as was often portrayed. Undeniably propaganda, it was of a subtly different timbre. The pilots themselves would have recognised the grittier, omnipresent realities of their work in this short film, as distinct from the glamorised portrayals following Churchill’s speech of 20 August (‘to so few’ not hinted at even once), and the newsreel, BBC and press coverage. The Front Line The Front Line (6 minutes, 1940) focused upon Dover where coverage of the RAF’s fighter defences was brief, but confirmed its interrelationship with civil defence and morale. The short film began with a text frame: ‘Dover – to 15th September 1940 after three months as frontier town!’ where Dover is clearly in the ‘Front Line’. It cut to a massive explosion, followed immediately by massed Luftwaffe formations filmed from the ground, and then He111s. The narrator’s voiceover confirmed that ‘the Battle of Britain is on. Goering is pouring his air force across in waves to try and break our spirit – all Britain is in the Front Line!’ Scenes of the castle (for centuries a defensive bastion against invaders) and the Dover RDF station followed footage of the (indomitable) white cliffs and harbour. Coverage turned to the shelling, a convoy under attack. A Blenheim portrayed a German bomber, Stukas dive-bombing merchant and RN ships, with some near misses. A Me109 – perhaps in frustration at the lack of RAF fighters from nearby Hawkinge – shot up a barrage balloon. Attention turned to an amused RAF barrage balloon crew, evidently well used to such antics. In ‘Hell’s Corner’, anti-aircraft guns fired at formations of Luftwaffe aircraft as they crossed over. A Spitfire crashing into the sea represented an enemy aircraft being downed, as below. Despite this frenetic air activity ‘the damage is amazingly small’, and a ‘marvellous communal spirit’ pervaded the town. Life went on in the ‘garden of England’ as hop-pickers and other agricultural workers went about their daily business, the views shifting to fields just outside Dover. This, despite ‘dogfights whorling and wheeling overhead’ confirmed the narrator, accompanied with aerial footage, ‘but the garden of England is growing a new crop – Messerschmitts, Heinkels, Dorniers, Junkers and pilots!’ A man working in a vegetable patch was counter-pointed with the remains of a large, adjacent propeller seemingly left where it landed. A range of crashed Luftwaffe fighters and bombers were shown where they had fallen, or, heaped up as scrap metal. A brief clip showed a wounded Luftwaffe aircrewman receiving medical attention, the narrator confirming that ‘the Battle of Britain is being won, won by the spirit of the people’. Its director Harry Watt recalled that it was finished in a hurry, as most propaganda films were and this reflects in part its rather brisk, if stirring, production values [347, p. 137]. Noted above Watt’s footage of a Spitfire crashing into the

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sea was given to the newsreels by the MOI, and although it remained in his film, it had been widely seen by the time of its release [110, p. 60]. The short was useful in confirming the ‘front line’ nature of life in the town, but the reality was that the fighting had moved on by 15 September, attacks on Channel convoys no longer the main event. Interest was by then focused upon London, rather than a Kentish town. Broader ‘shorts’ ’ coverage More broadly, a range of short films was produced during and after the Battle that had some relevance. The vital, related role of production workers was addressed in Behind the Guns (21 minutes, 1940), an MOI short produced in July. It began with brief images of warships, tanks and then a Spitfire. About four minutes was focused upon the Spitfire’s production, men working in a factory on airframes, wings and fitting Merlin engines. There were no combat scenes and this element concluded with a Spitfire being test flown. Films with very brief, incidental coverage of the RAF – mostly in their role as aerial protectors – appeared in London Can Take It (10 minutes, 1940), produced for an American constituency. Britain Can Take It (7 minutes, 1940), broadly the same film for British consumption, was the most successful ‘short’ produced, both films narrated by American reporter Quentin Reynolds [76], and directed by Watt [150, p. 98]. The themes were mostly about the German failure to subjugate Britain since Dunkirk, and the air assault against civilian targets including London. Britain was resolute: ‘But through it all two factors have totally miscarried in the enemy’s calculations. The first has been the fighting spirit of our RAF, and the defensive efficiency of our anti-aircraft force’; secondly, the people have shown the world that ‘Britain can take it’ [76, p. 2]. London’s Reply to Germany’s False Claims was a Reynolds’ scripted and narrated production, its exact subject focus uncertain [110, p. 120]. Into 1941, RAF Action (10 minutes, 1941), part of the Empire’s New Armies series, surveyed the equipment and history of the RAF from the First World War, and the wider Empire’s Air Forces. A long sequence on the Battle featured Hurricanes, with gun-camera footage, and the affirmation of the contribution of Empire airmen. ‘Shorts’ ’ propaganda impact How successful were the ‘shorts’? M-O confirmed in 1941 that as a minor weapon used for official propaganda they did not have any major impact upon audiences, most just patiently sitting through them until the main feature was screened [57, p. 30]. M-O was not sure that the MOI understood why it sought to produce shorts, suggesting that many were produced without a clear sense of why they were specifically needed, and whether they had in fact reached the intended audiences or were defective in their methodology [57, p. 31]. MOI shorts’ propaganda value has also since been questioned because of their

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unpopularity with many cinemagoers; some, noted in 1942 – and doubtless thoroughly fed up with the war – would groan audibly when the MOI credits appeared [150, p. 87]. As a result not all cinema managers screened them [57, pp. 30–1], despite the efforts of the MOI to achieve effective distribution, and having given consideration to ‘the compulsory exhibition of MOI films’ – this subsequently not taken up [150, p. 93]. However, confirming Chapman’s view that historians have underestimated their success [150, p. 87], M-O studies in 1940 suggested that shorts engendered a more positive response from middle-class audiences than those of the working-class, simply because of the comfortable upper- and middle-class attitudes permeating much of the footage [57, p. 31]. The clipped accents of many of the commentators would also have encouraged this view, working-class voices rarely heard except where individuals were the focus of specific features, as for instance was to be seen in The Front Line, where locals in Dover confirmed they were ‘sticking it’. Shorts about the RAF would undoubtedly also appeal to middle-class families and friends of many RAF pilots, a not inconsiderable constituency by later 1940.

A restrospective Making use in part of Battle-period material, a final example of newsreel coverage confirmed how the RAF wished the 1940 air battle to be remembered. This was produced in September 1945 by the RAF’s Film Production Unit, itself established in September 1941 by the AM’s DPR. From 1943 it produced ‘The Gen’ the only British newsreel for the Services, covering many aspects of the war as it unfolded – and in part to maintain a historical record. Fittingly, its final wartime edition offered Service personnel an eight-minute tribute to the RAF, celebrating its victory. Proclaiming in its introductory text that ‘this was their finest hour’, it reminded viewers of the importance of 15 September 1940, beginning with an airshow on that date in 1945. Noting that ‘war planes are but pieces of history’, the events were recounted with footage of radar, control rooms, plotting tables, Spitfires being armed, a scramble, actuality footage of a large Luftwaffe formation over Biggin Hill, and RAF fighters shown attacking, including gun-camera film. The viewer was reminded of the attack against London, and that it was a ‘people’s war’, the dogfights successful in breaking up German formations. It drew to a close with a reminder that on that day the RAF had won a victory that opened the way for the victories to come, buying time ‘to finish the job’. It concluded with a recasting of Churchill’s epiphany: ‘And so we the many honour the Few, the Few to whom final victory was but a dream, a dream for which they fought and died.’ It was a fitting tribute to the bitter air battles that had reached their climax five long years before, which although extensively covered by the newsreels, attracted less interest from the MOI’s short film-makers. Despite this the image

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of the Few had been powerfully captured and projected to cinema audiences through the newsreel cameramen. Given the challenges of the time they must rank as successful propaganda in providing filmic images of the men and fighters to be seen overhead in distant and deadly air fighting, yet who were often remote unless one lived near a fighter station.

8 The Sky’s the Limit

The RAF in focus The Battle was a supreme vehicle for iconographic representations. Newspapers, magazines, comics, books, posters and art provided ideal vehicles for mass propaganda dissemination, where as forms of projection, photography, cartoons, posters, art and advertisements allowed for the rapid absorption of key themes. The clean lines of the Spitfire and Hurricane drew the eye, the suggestion of cutting-edge technology, streamlined modernity and modern graphic design fusing to create attractive and powerful messages. Pilots similarly attracted attention as the warrior-technocrats flying them, the visual propaganda chiming with wider media projections in reports, newsreels, films and broadcasts; a visual reinforcement of mental imagery, perception and imagination. What linked this material was its positive affirmation of the RAF’s successful rebuttal of the Luftwaffe, the projection of calm professionalism, technology and quiet resolve. Photography was an important aspect of British propagandising by 1940, where a column of newspaper text might be replaced by an image [79, p. 89]. By its nature photography was mostly ‘warm’ propaganda, the more useful, directly relevant ‘hot’ material often very difficult to source in time for the next day’s newspaper deadline. An alternative was to use stock images that might not have any direct relevance to the story being covered – thus, a ‘hot’ news item might be illustrated with a very ‘cold’ photograph. Because the AM and RAF limited access to operational fighter stations and pilots, authentic photographs appearing in national newspapers and magazines were relatively few, and heavily scrutinised by censors. Control was exercised by using AM photographers to produce images. Even if for reasons of security there was reluctance to allow press photographers onto RAF stations, a steady supply of AM publicity material was made available. For example, The R.A.F. in Action included images that have since become iconic portrayals of the Few [101], and many other wartime books included such ‘official photographs’. 189

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This extended to access for images of RAF ‘first line’ aircraft, where the same photograph might appear in various newspapers and magazines, some – but not all – of the aircraft clearly pre-dating latter 1940. For example, prewar images of 19 Squadron Spitfires at Duxford, taken in earlier 1939 with two-bladed wooden propellers were common throughout the period. First received by 19 Squadron at Duxford in August 1938, these Spitfires were made available to the visiting press at the station, in May 1939. Although they had been filmed and photographed in air-to-air settings, few ground ‘close ups’ were permitted, other than in the Supermarine factory at Eastleigh. To illustrate the BBC’s Spitfires Over Britain broadcast on 25 June, the Radio Times featured pre-war Duxford Spitfires photographed possibly during October 1938, from a Blenheim (cover illustration) [136, p. 108]. Similar use was made of pre-war Hurricane photographs, including air-to-air images taken in April 1938 of 111 Squadron aircraft from Northolt – the squadron had received its first Hurricanes in December 1937. As the public were not always acquainted with current aircraft, the use of pre-war images was a reasonable compromise. However, The Times, in repeating an appeal by The Aeroplane, reaffirmed the propaganda need for photographs and details of current aircraft to be released by the AM in ‘ ‘‘Tell the world’’ – plea for news of British aircraft’ [547, p. 2, col. e]. Curiously, given that newsreel footage did on occasion show current versions of RAF fighters in action, this lacuna seemed an odd official position. That said, several examples of then current aircraft included ‘The seat of a hero’ showing a Spitfire cockpit with labelled instruments [505, p. 263]; an identical picture, but with different labelling supported a Spitfire Fund appeal (Plate 20) [446, p. 35]. A fine aerial study of a flight of six pre-war Hurricanes that appeared in Picture Post on the day that London came under attack was captioned in part: ‘The R.A.F. are the masters of the German Air Force’ [446, p. 31]; and a two-page spread with four photographs of Hurricanes in flight appeared on 2 November, in the ILN [512, pp. 570–1]. Where it proved the superiority of RAF aircraft, damaged fighters occasionally featured such as ‘A ‘‘skeleton’’ Hurricane flies home’, wherein three photographs revealed extensive damage to a wing and tail-plane [506, p. 316]. A lack of quality photographs similarly applied to the few aircraft shown genuinely in action, with very infrequent images of actual combat invariably obtained through gun-cameras, activated as the machine-guns were fired. Noted previously, typical of such coverage was War Illustrated’s issue of 21 June, where the article ‘War in the air as the victor sees it’ included stills footage of He111 (Plate 8), Do17 and Me110s being shot down [578, p. 674]. Such images were often derived from combat during the Battle of France, rather than the Battle, those from the latter appearing rather later as the air combats reached a climax.

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Alternatives were grainy, poor resolution photographs of high altitude, distant, aerial combats taken from the ground, and often from the cliffs at Dover. A typical example was printed on the back page of the Herald on 31 July, showing a convoy under attack from dive-bombers where in this image small aeroplanes that may have been retouched are seen amidst flak bursts [366, p. 6, col. d]. Also not infrequent were photographs of Me109s attacking barrage balloons, perhaps in frustration at the lack of RAF interest. One dramatic example appeared in 23 August’s War Illustrated, the fighter clearly seen in plan as it swoops past a burning balloon [587, p. 169]. Usually, poor quality printing on wood pulp paper in newspapers made blurred images, even less clear – but at least there were few censorship considerations. Occasionally, photographers were able to capture images of stricken, blazing aircraft falling to earth. One example of a Do17 bomber graced the Mirror’s front page on 12 August, captioned ‘last of a raider’ [400, p. 1]. Other than distant combat, aircraft contrails at high altitudes were often the only indication of aerial combats, these previously rare patterns a source of great interest amongst many newspaper and magazine readers. Allingham wrote: ‘These dogfights high up in a blue sky are very beautiful; there is no other word for it; for the white trails which the aeroplanes leave behind them hang about like bridal veils in long graceful festoons’ [1, p. 245]. Perry recorded on 9 October that the previous day he had watched many German bombers cross high overhead, their contrails evoking comparisons with unseen paintbrushes that left long white lines across the sky; this sense was reinforced by RAF fighters at similar heights, also leaving long white trails [292, p. 183]. H.E. Bates, who recorded many of his impressions of the Battle, wrote: ‘The white or blue-white vapour trails of plane-wings were a new phenomenon . . . Sometimes you never saw the planes except for a split second as they turned in the sun; all you saw were the parallel streams of snow pouring backward from a moving point’ [15, p. 87]. Examples of magazine coverage included ‘Trail of a dog-fight’ [418, p. 12, col. c], ‘Visible Vortices’ [432, between pp. 186 and 187] and ‘Aerial battles recorded in ‘‘sky-writing’’ ’ with three photographs of dogfighting aircraft seen at very high altitude [506, p. 316]. On the next page ‘Aerial ‘‘fog-trail,’’ which often reveals high-flying raiders’ was an illustration of how condensation trails were formed [506, p. 317]; and later, ‘Raid ‘‘smoke trails’’: air fights written in vapour’ [515, p. 665]. War Illustrated’s 20 September issue featured numerous and evocative images of spiralling dogfight contrails high above St Paul’s Cathedral [591, p. 281]. Offering a final word on the Battle’s coverage of the causes of contrails, The Aeroplane’s 29 November issue included a brief piece entitled ‘Those cloud trails again’, which sought to explain that the Luftwaffe were not in fact ‘smoke writing in derision over our cities’, the contrails instead a natural phenomenon [492, p. 592].

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Photographing the Few Awards of gallantry medals to pilots by the King provided important propaganda opportunities, often accompanied by photographers and newsreel cameramen. Although not particularly exciting on film – rows of men on parade, with individuals marching forward to be awarded their medals – it was a firm reminder of the efforts being made by the RAF. The press carried photographs, usually supplemented with racy accounts of how the recipients came to be awarded such honours. Despite the otherwise hesitant start in giving access to RAF fighter stations and pilots, common sense prevailed after the AM granted wider entry to American correspondents and facilities for the media generally were extended [339, p. 184]. This resulted in wider access to the fighter pilots where photographers such as the prolific Cecil Beaton, working for the MOI, and Charles E. Brown, were given controlled entry to RAF stations producing some of the ‘classic’ images of pilots resting at dispersals, or in their aircraft, but still very much at ‘readiness’ [167, pp. 106–7; 241, p. 142; 300, pp. 32–3]. Wellum recalled a visit to his squadron in the summer of 1941 by Beaton, during which he took many photographs of fighter pilots and their activities [351, pl. 26]. Some of these later photographs are easily confused with those of the Battle itself. During 1940, images in addition to those of the Blitz were provided to America by the MOI for use in magazines as the summer and autumn progressed – they found much demand [167, pp. 106–7]. Some four photographic agencies captured many aspects of the air war in Britain: Central Press, Fox, Keystone and Topical. In addition to newspapers these supplied images to magazines such as Picture Post [348, p. 160]. Discussed previously, Picture Post’s lack of attention to the fighter pilots during the Battle itself might in part be explained by its 20 April ‘A day with a fighter squadron’ photo-essay, a good three months before the air war began in earnest [438, pp. 33–7]. In part, it set the scene for what was to follow in a five-page article including 16 photographs and brief text – it gave a broad if heavily censored sense of what it was like to be at ‘readiness’. The article described the easy-going nature of the young airmen – whose average age was 23 despite enjoying five years’ of flying experience – and implied that they fly Spitfires and Hurricanes. However, a partly glimpsed Blenheim fuselage with gun turret used as a backdrop for five photographs of aircrew suggests that the squadron did not fly single-seaters. A pre-Battle 65 Squadron image of six Spitfires in flight with three-bladed airscrews confirmed the deceit, as did an image of a pilot climbing into the cockpit of an uncoded Spitfire, again with a differing, pre-Battle fuselage roundel. Of the five aircrew pictured all are in flying gear, three wearing Irvin jackets, and two, flying helmets – four look away from the camera in posed shots. Other images showed a scramble from a wooden hut, officers at rest, and aircraftsmen undertaking servicing and recreational

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activities. The text confirmed engagement with sports, daily routines, what the RAF eat, responding to enemy attacks and the more light-hearted aspects of squadron life. It gave a bland if reasonably revealing insight into life for the ‘fighter boys’. Later magazine accounts were grittier, the focus more upon the enemy aircraft brought down by such young warrior-heroes. As confirmed by the Picture Post article, for the press, pilots frequently posed on, in or near their aircraft, but in following the official policy on anonymity the accompanying published captions usually eschewed naming individuals except for gallantry awards. For example, the photograph of one fighter pilot that appeared in the Express on 31 May included the caption: ‘A keen, strong face, typical of the men who fly for Britain – Acting Squadron Leader Robert Kayll, D.F.C. who has been awarded the Distinguished Service Order’ [360, p. 5]. The photograph showed a flying-helmeted and -suited Kayll, taken from a low oblique angle against the sky. He looked away from the camera and to his left. Invariably portrayed as cheerful, relaxed and ‘taking things in their stride’, the public’s perception of these young men was based upon such images, unassuming members of a warrior-elite. Photographs of pilots’ head and shoulders taken from the ubiquitous low-oblique position against the sky heightened the god-like sense, a technique used in film footage. 32 Squadron, Hawkinge One detailed example illustrates the propaganda value of the photographic coverage in newspapers and magazines, featuring pilots’ portraits and waiting at ‘readiness’. These Fox photographic agency images were taken during a session with available 32 Squadron pilots at Hawkinge, their Biggin Hill forward base, on 29 July, at which place the Fox Film Unit were also active at the month’s end, producing instructional films for the RAF [300, pp. 106, 729]. A series of photographs included general views of the airfield, officer and SNCO pilots standing, sitting or lying on the ground near Hurricane fighters, one in a Hurricane, and four pilots’ portraits showing head and shoulders in close up. Several photographs were also taken of 610 Squadron, flying Spitfires, one group image of officers and Sergeants being published by the ILN [501, p. 151] and War Illustrated [585, p. 121]. Both publications also featured a photograph of a pilot discussing with a colleague, a bullet hole in his flying helmet. Published fairly quickly thereafter in a wide range of newspapers and magazines, several of these images have come to symbolise the Few in a manner that other contemporary photographic treatments seldom achieved. These images of 32 Squadron pilots at readiness are simple in their style and appearance, and featured seven officer pilots either sitting or lying casually on the short grass in the sunshine, a Hurricane fighter in the immediate background (Plate 12). Little can be seen beyond the men and aircraft. Flying Officer Rupert Smythe, Pilot Officers John Proctor, Peter Gardner,

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Keith Gillman, Douglas Grice, Alan Eckford, and Flight Lieutenant Peter Brothers, are all at ‘readiness’, and all survived the war apart from Gillman. They were dressed in the standard officer’s tunic and trousers, five wearing Mae Wests, others sitting on them. Virtually all wore silk scarves and normal shoes, and none the bulky Irvin jacket. Several versions were published: one with the group sitting in front of the Hurricane – seen sideways – with its nose to the left-hand side of the image, as appeared on the front page of the Mirror on 30 July under the main headline ‘17 raiders down in 30 minutes’, and sub-titled: ‘From battle – all smiles’ [390, p. 1]; this also appeared in the 6 September issue of The Aeroplane [480, p. 267]. The second style of photograph featured the group remaining in the same positions, but having shifted slightly to face the altered camera position, the Hurricane now viewed almost head-on (Plate 12). This version appeared in November in The R.A.F. in Action and inaccurately confirmed that the pilots were resting between air battles on an autumn afternoon [101, pl. 1]. Sharing the same flying helmet, the Mirror published on 31 July, four individual photographs of pilots in this same group, the unnamed Gillman featuring as a larger image (Plate 13) [300, p. 751]. The newspaper account – one of several – confirmed in ‘here are the men who did it’, that the four unidentified pilots were (just) some of those who had claimed 17 German aircraft also destroyed on 29 July, all shot down in an epic battle over Dover [391, p. 3; 300, p. 751]. They were featured on a single magazine page as four portraits of equal size, under the heading ‘They shot down 17 planes in half-an-hour’; despite some use being made of photographs from that session at Hawkinge, unless there were several publications using the title, this was not the back page of War Illustrated as suggested [300, p. 729]. Details of the combat were indeed given in War Illustrated but the four pilots’ heads were not included in that article [585, p. 121]. These four close-up views of heads and shoulders exclude any background features. The four men’s portraits appear to have been of Brothers, Gardner, Gillman and Grice [300, p. 729]. The actual battle took place ten days earlier on 19 July, during which five members of 32 Squadron made claims for Me109s and a Stuka, either destroyed or damaged [192, p. 104; 300, p. 753]. These were Squadron Leader John Worrall, Brothers [300, p. 729], Gillman, Smythe and Sergeant Bernard Henson. Three claimants from that action were therefore in the group photograph with the Hurricane, Worrall and Henson being absent. Smythe’s absence as one of the portrait subjects may have been a personal preference. Two of the pilots in the group photograph – Gillman and Grice, who look facially very similar in these photographs – also later individually graced the front covers of Picture Post and the ILN during August [445; 503]. Of these, Gillman appeared anonymously on Picture Post’s front cover as one of ‘the men against Goering’ – unbeknownst to readers – within a week of his death over the Channel on 25 August (Plate 13) [300, pp. 750–5; 358, p. 187]. The

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ILN image of Grice was simply captioned ‘ ‘‘Per Ardua Ad Astra’’ ’. A type of the young pilots who brought down 260 German ‘planes in a week’. Of the four photographs appearing from that session, those of Gillman and Grice are the more impressive, perhaps conveying the preferred image for fighter pilots. Taken from a low-oblique position, both were relaxed, Gillman smiling broadly as he looked up, whilst Grice in striking the same pose – but smiling only slightly – looked the more determined. Both have become iconic images of Fighter Command’s Few. Broader photographic coverage of the Few Several other images confirm the range of photographs used for propaganda purposes: the 23 August edition of War Illustrated had as its front page an RAF aircrew man captioned ‘He was a leader gunner in the great air battles’ [587]; the ILN featured as its front cover on 31 August, two RAF fighter pilots ‘fighting the battle again’ (Plate 10) [505]; and War Illustrated on 1 November under the caption ‘Some of the few to whom we owe so much’ included four photographs. Two were of pilots, one was of pilots jumping from a lorry during a scramble (Plate 5), and finally, three ground-staff officers planning ‘operations’ were portrayed [595, p. 464]. Noted above, in addition to the cheerful faces, pilots’ attire regularly worn during sorties came to symbolise prowess, an expression of unofficial propaganda instantly identifiable to the public, and projected through press and film portrayals. Depending on states of readiness, over their normal blue uniforms (‘wings’ sewn on over the left-hand breast pocket, and perhaps the top button undone) pilots might be wearing fleece-lined leather Irvin-jackets (but not the corresponding trousers), flying-boots (or just normal shoes) and Mae Wests. Rank badges were usually visible on the lower or upper sleeves, Sergeants’ stripes the most prominent. Informal flying dress was a feature as its relentless pace continued, but was not tolerated in peacetime, or in some instances, for Sergeant pilots. Polo-neck jumpers usually replaced the shirt and tie for officers as this prevented neck chafing when searching constantly for the enemy, as did silk scarves. Collar and tie were hazards in the sea, where breathing could be constricted by shrinkage – burnt hands could not remedy this. Although available, less frequently worn were the white overalls noted by Guy Gibson [205, p. 116], or the Sidcot flying suit with a fur collar, these usually preferred by bomber crews. Mostly worn only for the benefit of photographers and film-makers, the ‘B’ type flying-helmets, unclipped oxygen masks, flying goggles (either standard issue with the flip-down sun-visor, or the preferred ‘Luxor’ goggles, purchased privately and visible in Gillman’s portrait), parachute and leather gauntlets (vital to avoid severely burnt hands if the fuel-tank caught fire) were equipment for flying only. These were left on the aircraft and put on immediately prior

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to take off. The handlebar moustache traditionally associated with pilots – but by no means adorned by all (perhaps only four per cent) – had a practical purpose in providing a buffer between the face and oxygen mask, within which exhaled moisture inevitably and uncomfortably developed after long periods of use [263, p. 606]. A pilot photographed wearing helmet, goggles and oxygen mask gave an idea of how the face was fully protected, if only for a brief time, against the vicious effects of fuel-tank conflagration – a real dread, especially for Hurricane pilots [516, p. 701]. Photographic exhibitions Aside from mass-circulation publications, photographic exhibitions of official photographs by the AM and MOI allowed the public to view sometimes largescale images of the RAF at work. Some were designed as travelling exhibitions to be moved from town to town, on the back of a lorry with a small crew, often including one operational pilot. Although limited to those with easy access to central London, a photographic exhibition was staged at the Grafton Galleries, 158 New Bond Street. Opening on 23 August, with free entry, The Aeroplane’s reviewer did not think much of the range of small images, with ‘little to tell that the R.A.F. is at War’. Flight published nine photographs from it showing bombers, fighters and personnel. The photograph used on the ‘to so few’ poster was featured [433, pp. 212–13]. Gracing the front page of 31 August’s the ILN, a photograph of two pilots discussing a dogfight projected relaxed prowess, the caption effusive in its praise of the Few [505, p. 1]. There were images of the various commands, with senior officers and squadron crests. Photograph captions were reportedly poor, the exhibition the joint work of the AM and MOI, and apparently ‘put together in a hurry’ [479, p. 217]. 16-mm machinegun cine-camera film was also projected. Mindful of the publicity opportunities the AM was able to persuade the Mirror to run a small item on the same exhibition, on the day of its opening [410, p. 11, col. e]. The exhibition was originally planned to run for six weeks, until early October, but might have been extended. In addition, ‘More R.A.F. photographs on show’ gave details of a display of photographs by Charles E. Brown at the gallery owned by Ilford & Co. Forty large photographs depicted the RAF in ‘more militant mood’ than the official exhibition. RAF cameras including cine-cameras were loaned for it. In the light of the poor reception afforded to the AM’s offering, the reader was advised to visit the official exhibition first, then Brown’s selection [480, p. 247]. Under a later piece entitled ‘Ad Astral Asininity’ The Aeroplane criticised a later exhibition of inaccurately colour-tinted photographs of RAF aircraft on display at Adastral House, where the AM was housed on Kingsway [488, p. 473]. In December it was reported by The Aeroplane that an RAF stand in the British Pavilion at the World’s Fair in New York had attracted many visitors, a bullet-holed Spitfire fuselage, a Hurricane wing and many photographs of the RAF on display. Newsreel footage

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of dogfights also attracted much praise, as did graphic enlargements previously published by the magazine of British and German aircraft losses during the preceding months [493, p. 621].

Portraying the Luftwaffe One aspect that was not restricted was the publication of crashed enemy aircraft wrecks, as these provided the clearest evidence of RAF successes to confirm controversial claims. Newspapers and magazines regularly carried pages and pages of such images, supplemented with often-gleeful headlines and details. The association of wrecks with RAF success began early with ‘These were the first shots in the Battle of Britain’, that showed photographs taken after a raid on 18 June of bombed houses and downed German bombers [579, p. 688]. A large double-page photograph of an aircraft scrap heap – probably at Cowley, Oxford – appeared in the 22 August Mirror entitled: ‘The Junk-ers heap – enemy bring scrap’ [409, pp. 6–7]. ‘Fragments of One Week – Three Out of 495’ in The Aeroplane was unequivocal in its acceptance of the claims [478, p. 194]. As the numbers of downed aircraft increased whole pages featured them. For example, the ILN’s edition on 24 August contained a series of images of crashed and burning German aircraft, beginning with its front-cover photograph of an unidentifiable wreck. ‘A panorama of Nazi disaster’ was a two-page spread of photographs showing 16 downed aircraft [504, pp. 238–9]. In case that was insufficient ‘A panorama of disaster: further evidence of how the R.A.F. has mauled the Luftwaffe’ continued the photographic theme, reinforced with a further 16 images [504, pp. 242–3]. A Heinkel 111 crashed on the sea’s edge was captioned ‘Facing home, that’s as far as he got!’ [418, p. 1]. ‘Scrap-heap ScrapBook’, a one-page selection of ten photographs of crashed German aircraft, some again probably at the Cowley Dump told a similar story [479, p. 225]. ‘The RAF clawed them down by the hundred’ showed a Stuka falling to earth as an inset, and a larger image purporting to be the crashed dive-bomber [588, p. 197]. ‘ ‘‘I asked for an Air Force & Marshal Goering has given me the finest in the world’’ – samples now in Britain’ offered a two-page spread of crashed German aircraft [588, pp. 210–11]. Picture Post, a magazine not inclined to cover the air war did so on 6 July when it printed four photographs of downed Heinkel bombers [438*, pp. 14–15], and on 7 September, on two pages of photographs including eight crashed German examples [446, pp. 30–1]. Although not officially in the Battle, the Italian attacks against Britain attracted some interest, photographs made available to the press where coverage included ‘Neo-Roman remains’ [491, p. 567], and ‘Italy’s Armistice Day Debacle – 13 bombers lost in first raid on Britain’ [515, p. 653]. POWs too were not off limits, the exploitation of prisoners for propaganda purposes prevalent in 1940. In common with the newsreels, photographs of

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downed Luftwaffe aircrew were additional proof of RAF successes. These usually featured single men, or groups of POWs being guarded by the police or Army, sometimes in a railway station. The Sketch included a photograph of a German pilot captioned: ‘A German pilot-lieutenant brought down in this country. His bombing days are over’ [418, p. 5, col. c], and two crewmembers from a Do17 were shown being escorted by British troops as an inset to a larger photograph of their burning aircraft in the Telegraph [424, p. 6, col. c]. Magazine examples included ‘The men Goering sends to bomb us’ that showed photographs of air crews [506, p. 306]; in a general spread of images about the air war, one was an image of German POWs [446, pp. 30–1]; and nine photographs of ‘Our uninvited guests: a few of Hitler’s 13,500 lost airmen’ [510, p. 473]. The 2 November ILN included ‘Germany’s losses in air personnel since the Blitzkrieg against this country started on August 11’, a large pullout giving four pages of small head images, organised in rows and columns [512, pp. 561–2].

Newspaper and magazine cartoons Cartoons were invariably ‘hot’ or ‘warm’ propaganda, reflecting the informal modes in which they were projected to the public. During 1940 the majority of British cartoons were carried in commercial, rather than official, publications, this only changing with the advent of ‘Raff’s’ Flying Officer Prune in earlier 1941, discussed below. The majority of the popular mass-circulation daily newspapers carried cartoons, many as regular features. The sharply observed work of David Low for the Mirror has stood the test of time, as has that of Phillip Zek. Carl Giles’ work as published in Reynold’s News during the Battle, and rather later the Express remains similarly well regarded. Cartoons enabled the rapid capture of an idea, issue or event, and conveyed the changing nature of the air war as it progressed, a considerable range being published as it unfolded. These were important for morale, but also valuable for their instantaneous communication of subtle propaganda messages without the need for lengthy blocks of explanatory text. Complex geo-political contexts, or the finer points of air fighting could be captured in a single image, some of which anticipated victory well before there were real grounds for assuming it. The humorous element ensured that the message was remembered, and made it more likely that the cartoon would be communicated to others, in the manner of a good joke. Where such messages chimed with wider propaganda projection through other media, so much the better. Inevitably, many featured either the RAF, or their victims (aircraft being shot down were attractive subjects), but the air war was not the only concern or opportunity during the summer and autumn of 1940. Cartoons – whose quality, range and depth varied considerably – reflected the changing nature of the fighting, but not as closely as might be expected. For example, issues that

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might typically retain currency in August, such as RAF aircraft claims, were still reflected in cartoons long after the Blitz had begun. Additionally, there were very few instances requiring strict censorship [139, p. 97]. Equally, few cartoons struck a discordant note, except the cartoons published in The Aeroplane berating the misguided ideals of Spitfire Fund donations, discussed below. More broadly, M-O identified strip cartoons as a contributory factor in the decline of editorial influence [57, p. 21], but cartoons were a tiny part of a typical daily newspaper’s contents. Also significant was the satirical magazine Punch, that provided a light-hearted angle on the war; a mixture of cartoons, articles, verse, short stories, poetry and comment the standard fare in its broadly A4-sized pages, on sale weekly for sixpence. Many of its cartoons were highly relevant to the air war, often graphic in capturing the essence of the issues, the numbers between July and December featuring over 40 with some relevance to the air war. The publication did not aim to present detailed, factual information and reportage about the war, but sought instead to use personal accounts and observations as vehicles for humour. Punch was very fortunate in benefiting from high-quality, distinctive cartoonists such as R. Brockbank, K. Fougasse (‘Fougasse’, was also a graphic, poster artist), C. Grave, L.G. Illingworth, G. Laidler (‘Pont’), F. Reynolds, E.H. Shepard and W.A. Sillince, in their own way committed propagandists, making personal contributions to the war effort. David Langdon also drew for Punch, being notable as a cartoonist who had been discovered in the RAF. Discussed broadly chronologically, the following indicate the breadth and depth of Battle cartoons, but other examples could equally be included. British cartoonists were quick to project the RAF’s prowess, and Luftwaffe’s failure, at the onset of the clashes. In a full-page cartoon Hitler, Goebbels and Goering attired in Ancient Roman dress, were shown ruminating on how long it might take to defeat Britain in a cartoon entitled ‘Reading the skies’. Hitler asked of Goebbels ‘I have conquered all Gaul. How long will it take to conquer all Britain?’ Goebbels replied: ‘Wait a moment, Leader, while I look at the omens of the air’. Above them were many German aircraft being shot down by the RAF [453, p. 31; 581, p. iii]. RAF success was also conveyed in The Aeroplane’s ‘Proverbs in the air – XIX, New brooms sweep clean’ that showed three Defiant fighters under attack by German fighters, many of who were going down in flames [472, p. 54]. Whilst initially accurate, Defiants were soon withdrawn from day fighting because of their vulnerability to German fighters. Again at an early stage, a Mirror cartoon captioned ‘Hermann’s getting tings under his eyes’, showed Goering’s head with RAF roundels denoting mesmerised eyes, three small RAF fighters flying around in front of him [381, p. 5]. The following day, ‘Cooking the Nazi goose’ simply showed Beaverbrook cooking a goose in a pot, this only six days after the start of the official Battle [382, p. 5]. Caution was also evident: despite the fact that the major Luftwaffe onslaught was yet to

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begin, ‘Will the ‘‘right wing’’ hold?’ showed a stylised RAF fighter with a stick and umbrella for its right wing, flying high in the sky [383, p. 5]. Something of an answer appeared during the following week: ‘THESE imports are increasing too’, again showed Beaverbrook behind whom were several crashed German aircraft, but the major air battles were yet to begin [386, p. 5]. As the fighting continued into earlier August, the RAF’s capability clearly evident, in a reflection of RAF irritation with ‘line-shooting’ a small Punch cartoon portrayed two RAF pilots conversing – one in pilot’s outfit, and the other in normal uniform, a fighter aircraft behind them. The kitted out pilot said to the other, who was not amused: ‘ . . . I put my airplane into a screaming vertical dive, the eight guns of my Spitcane belching death to the Nazi invader!’ [456, p. 144]. ‘Line-shooting’ was similarly evident in an undated Punch cartoon where a pilot talked to an officer in normal uniform, with RAF fighters in the background at an airfield: ‘But you must remember that I outnumbered them by one to three’ [214, p. 159]. Given the strength of the opposition to Hitler’s attacks, a level of satisfaction amongst pilots was justified from early August, the RAF’s stout resistance being projected more stridently. In a celestial tribute to Fighter Command, ‘Resolution:- Audacity:- Fortitude!’ was written above a large cartoon of ‘RAF’ enclosed in a wreath, with stars behind it [399, p. 5]. Several days later, ‘Who named these ‘‘DIVE’’ bombers Hermann?’ Hitler asked of Goering – both standing on Channel cliffs – as several German bombers were seen to crash into the sea [401, p. 5]. Also on 13 August in the Express: ‘Well, did you beard the lion in his den?’ had Goering asking of his Luftwaffe (raiding) eagle. ‘No, he met me outside’ replied the bedraggled bird [214, p. 104]. As the dispute about aircraft claims intensified several cartoons addressed the issue in mid-August. ‘Noughts – and crosses!’ was a cartoon of two halves: the left part showed Goebbels speaking into a microphone, and pointing with a stick to a board entitled ‘British aircraft destroyed’, upon which were various numbers, all crossed through – they began at ten, ending at 1000, the latter not crossed through. The right-hand panel showed several crashed German aircraft [402, p. 5]. An Australian cartoon on 15 August in the Melbourne Argus reflected AM claims showing a comical, gleeful lion flying on wings and wearing a cap emblazoned with ‘RAF’, downing Luftwaffe bombers with a cricket bat. A scoreboard was shown, aircraft losses to Germany running at 78 for 13 August, England not out [139, p. 54]. In The Aeroplane, responding to disputed aircraft claims, a small cartoon showed a comical RAF pilot in front of a fighter. He was holding a number of aircraft propellers, the caption reading ‘if you don’t believe me, here are the propellors’ [sic] [477, p. 188]. The link between the RAF’s effective air defence and Hitler’s invasion plans was confirmed in ‘Great stuff this R.A.F.!’ where a billboard poster was shown pasting a notice stating ‘postponed indefinitely’, across a larger poster saying ‘August 15 – Great triumphal entry into London by Adolf Hitler’ [404, p. 5].

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Into later August cartoons continued the focus upon the damage being inflicted on Hitler’s air force, and the potency of the RAF against heavy odds. The Aeroplane’s ‘Proverbs in the air – XXII, Waste not, want not’ showed a Spitfire shooting down a Ju88, with three Me110s approaching the RAF fighter [477, p. 175]. ‘Sign of the times!’ showed a Nazi Swastika on the tail plane of an airborne German bomber, its outermost elements covered in bandages; bullets were seen whizzing around the tail plane that had several bullet-holes in it, and British flak was also evident [405, p. 5]. ‘Into the jaws . . . ’ showed formations of German aircraft flying into the stylised jaws of a massive shark, fashioned out of the Thames estuary and coastline, a small flag inscribed ‘RAF’ pinned into a circle denoted ‘London’ [407, p. 5]. Interestingly, large-scale attacks against the capital had not yet begun. Next day, in a strong echo of the ‘jaws’ cartoon threat, ‘He’s not moulting – he’s been plucked’ showed a Nazi vulture sitting on a branch looking very sorry for himself. Next to him were two much smaller birds discussing his ragged state [408, p. 5]. Also reflecting the Luftwaffe’s failure to defeat the RAF, in responding to exaggerated Luftwaffe claims for RAF fighters destroyed, Goebbels lectured Mussolini about how to distort Luftwaffe aircraft losses and claims in a full-page Punch cartoon entitled ‘The Crammer’. Pins with Swastikas were shown on a large map of Britain, denoting the numbers of German aircraft shot down by the RAF. Goebbels said: ‘Surely it’s pretty simple! You multiply your gains by ten and divide your losses by twenty; and shout as loud as you can’ (Plate 9) [457, p. 189; 587, p. iii]. By now a common theme, a full-page Punch cartoon entitled ‘A new game for Neptune’ showed a gigantic Neptune figure standing in the English Channel, the sea reaching to below his knees, wielding a trident and basket into which he had placed German aircraft (Plate 14). Above him was a ferocious air battle, many Luftwaffe aircraft being shot down. Neptune said: ‘bring ‘em down, boys. I’ll collect the pieces’ [458, p. 215; 589, p. iii]. It was somewhat ironic that by this stage the RAF was in difficulty because of high losses and damage to the air defence infrastructure. Cartoons varied in their content, not all directly concerned with the fighting itself. In a graphic style anticipating Monty Python, a man in a lavish stately home room simply said on the telephone, ‘Get me Messerschmitt 109’ [457, p. 193]. The immensely popular and frequently semi-naked ‘Jane’ appeared daily in a Mirror strip cartoon by Norman Pett, usually of three panels. Bryant notes that by 1943 the RAF’s morale daily hinged upon Jane’s state of undress in the Mirror! [139, p. 106]. Of many adventures, one published on 30 August indicated the style: Jane was with an RAF officer, looking at birds on a cliffside. Deciding to get closer to a Corncrake taking off, she slipped down the cliff saying ‘Oh, if only I had wings’, perhaps reflecting her wish to be engaged in the air fighting. Readers were treated to a sight of Jane’s legs and knickers as she fell, many RAF pilots doubtless thinking these glimpses a sufficient contribution

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to the war effort [416, p. 4]. Of a number published by Punch, two cartoons in the 4 September number included a small image of two proud parents, the mother holding newly born twins. She and her husband said to a man, ‘Well . . . we thought of calling them Spitfire and Hurricane . . . ’ [459, p. 242]. A widely published half-page cartoon showed two men in a country lane, one a farmer, the other a well-dressed gent who has asked for directions. The farmer said ‘Eglantine Cottage? Go down the lane past the Messerschmitt, bear left and keep on past the two Dorniers, then turn sharp right and it’s just past the first Junkers’, to the startled enquirer [459, p. 246]. Goering’s personal vanity remained an easy target, not least because it was claimed that he had flown over Britain during some attacks. The Aeroplane featured a small cartoon with a comical RAF fighter flying alongside a German aircraft, the RAF pilot staring at its aeroplane engine festooned with medals, the caption reading: ‘Good heavens, it’s Marshal Goering himself’ [480, p. 278]. As September drew on the RAF’s victory claims continued to make the headlines. ‘The law of averages’ showed the grim reaper on the back of a Me110 fighter, holding a paper with ‘ONE IN FIVE’ written on it. Beneath the main caption – careful to qualify the source of its claim – it read: ‘Germany has been losing planes at the rate of five to one, according to statistics supplied by the R.A.F’ [419, p. 4]. A few days later the Mail in its edition of 17 September published a cartoon showing Hitler and Goering, both anxious and sweating, gambling at a roulette table. The roulette was inscribed ‘Battle of Britain’, and the caption beneath read ‘ADOLF: I thought you had a winning system, Hermann’. A contented RAF pilot was included with a croupier’s rake clawing German aircraft ‘chips’ towards him, of which he has amassed a sizeable number. Stalin looked on, as did Uncle Sam [241, p. 204]. Dogfights were by then an accepted feature of the day fighting. A half-page Punch cartoon showed two men in the countryside, staring up at the sky, where one pointed upwards saying ‘Just look at that dog-fight, Mr. Bellamy!’ At their feet, two furious dogs fought one another [462, p. 320]. The September edition of Lilliput carried a similar cartoon; in this case a street scene featured a crowd of people watching two dogs fighting, whilst above them a major dogfight was ongoing, but ignored [214, p. 167]. In similar vein, an undated cartoon from the Evening News showed a large air battle over a street scene, where German aircraft were being shot down. A civilian man said to a soldier: ‘Well, I must be toddling in now. I mustn’t miss the 9 o’clock news’ [139, p. 56]. Hitler’s invasion plans clearly in difficulty, a full-page Punch cartoon entitled ‘The rock and the storm’ portrayed Goering’s head as the crest of a wave, where he was seen looking at a high, impenetrable cliff marked ‘Britain’. Little swastikas were shown being cast impotently at the rock face in the form of a breaking wave, thence dissipating as sea spray [462, p. 309]. This defeat expressed in another way, ‘Proverbs in the air – XXVI, A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’ featured a Spitfire

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shown on the tail of a Stuka, as two others were shown disappearing into cloud [483, p. 353]. Although after the Battle another ‘proverb’ (XXVIII) showed a Hurricane having sliced off the tailplane of a Me109, being simply captioned ‘The end justifies the means’, as a startled German pilot plunged earthwards [491, p. 583]. With the nature of the air fighting in flux, and the threat of invasion having passed, cartoons reflected Britain’s – and Hitler’s – changed circumstances. The Herald on 30 September confirmed Hitler’s failure in ‘Thirty days had September . . . ’ with a stuffy German officer in a grounded hot-air balloon adorned with ‘invasion’, and Goebbels shown crossing out the days of the month on a board headed ‘The balloon goes up Sept . . . ’ with the numbers crossed out to ‘29’. German citizens looked on [176, p. 59]. A full-page cartoon in Punch showed Hitler perilously balanced on a Swastika, atop a weather vane in a very elevated position. Pointing to the south, he was portrayed looking backwards towards an angel-like creature featuring a head – emblazoned with ‘R.A.F.’ – and wings, that was blowing up a storm and threatening to topple him. The caption read simply: ‘Going with the wind’ [463, p. 339]. Picture Post rarely used cartoons, but on 5 October included a double-page spread of them to celebrate its second birthday: at bottom-right was a small one captioned ‘The men against Goering’ that showed two RAF pilots’ heads (one in flying helmet), two German aircraft shot down in flames, and above them, two RAF fighters [449, p. 21]. A full-page Punch satire on the extent of needless and dubious interpretation provided for photographs of air fighting was portrayed in a cartoon of two image panels (despite little evidence of this technique in the press). The upper image was captioned ‘The press photograph as it was taken – ’ showing a mock photograph of an almost empty sky above a house roofline and chimney. Off in the distance, barely discernible, was an aircraft falling to earth and a parachute. In the lower image, captioned ‘and as it was published’, many annotations had been added to show the line of descent of both aircraft and parachute, the possible course of ‘attacking Spitfires’, the site of a gun behind a tree, two cardinal points, and ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ [464, p. 381]. Although belated, The Aeroplane carried a small cartoon showing two German aircrew in a He111 cockpit, where the pilot said to the other: ‘Now you let off the black smoke in both engines and let down the undercart while I dive into this cloud hopelessly out of control.’ This was a reference to the RAF’s previous annoyance at the disputatious attitude by the Germans to aircraft claims, such evidence offered to support pilots’ accounts of damaged aircraft [490, p. 535]. Other themes addressed aspects of the air war throughout the period. Beaverbrook’s drive to dramatically increase fighter production was based in part upon the ‘saucepans into Spitfires’ campaign. It offered many opportunities for light-hearted jocularity. For example, The Aeroplane featured a small cartoon captioned ‘Free Issue’ showing an aircraft factory with fighters in the

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background. A man was seen standing at the counter of a store labelled ‘material stores’, where he said to the storeman ‘Two 14 gauge saucepans and a coffee percolator please Bert’ [475, p. 127]. In an echo of this style, a small Punch cartoon portrayed an aircraft factory with four RAF fighters in production. All were completed except one, the aircraft’s tail featuring a saucepan-shaped hole. A man said to another: ‘We’re just a frying-pan short on this one’ [463, p. 337]. Beaverbrook’s role in accelerating fighter production for the RAF was captured in a full-page cartoon entitled: ‘Damming the tide’. Beaverbrook’s smiling head atop a beaver’s body was shown piling up logs with the letters ‘R.A.F.’ inscribed on three logs to create a dam. In the background was a waterfall, cascading water falling into a river upon which ‘Luftwaffe’ was written [465, p. 397; 593, p. iii]. In a satirical tribute to fighter funds during which fighters were presented by the contributors, company or town names painted on them, three Hurricanes in formation were shown flying at height over the countryside. The pilot of the nearest saying to the others: ‘ . . . ‘‘Borough of Grimstone’’ calling ‘‘MetalWorkers’ Guild’’ and ‘‘Ethels of the Empire’’ ’ [466, p. 443]. Not all welcomed the Spitfire Fund concept, The Aeroplane notably harsh in its criticism of donations being used to pay for fighters. Several cartoons struck a dissonant note: a halfpage cartoon showed a homeless family sitting atop the ruins of their bombruined home. They were looking towards a newly made fighter aircraft around which many civilian people were working, whilst entirely ignoring them. The caption read: ‘Charity begins with the homeless: unasked, the thoughtless pour in vast sums to the Fighter Funds which speed production not one whit. The destitute, bombed from their London homes, receive but meagre help’ [489, p. 507]. In another, a bar chart showed figures rising up to £1,000,000 for ‘Help our Spitfire Fund’; an arrow pointing to £750,000 having been raised, but at its base were homeless people looking up at the chart [491, p. 562]. The criticism continued into late November and December, where in an alternate version a man was seen holding up a large bag of money with ‘£’ on it (above his head was written ‘misplaced generosity’), as a fighter flew overhead labelled ‘fighter plane funds’. Around him were homeless families and bombed houses [492, p. 592]. Continuing the theme, a large cartoon showed Mercury as the god of war standing on a Spitfire, surrounded by a number of people donating money to him. In the background were extensive bomb-damaged buildings. The caption read: ‘Mercury: We are proud to carry your colours; we should be happier still to applaud your charity’ [493, p. 620]. The Aeroplane probably preferred Punch’s approach: donations were invited for ‘Mr Punch’s hospital comforts fund’, a campaign it began early in the Battle: the image featured three RAF fighters banking above an airfield, two pilots in full flying kit discussing a map. This was repeated weekly until 9 October [456, p. 150]. Italy’s contribution to the air war in support of Germany was very modest, amounting to only a few easily repelled bomber raids against Britain. The

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Luftwaffe saw little value in involving its Italian counterpart and tried to deter such raids based on their own difficulties against a by now very battle-hardened RAF. Mussolini’s air force, the Regia Aeronautica was badly mauled by the RAF on the 11 November when it ventured across the Channel to attack England with fighters and bombers, some biplanes [263, p. 471]. American Spitfire pilot Art Donahue recounted of the raid that the RAF’s Spitfire and Hurricane pilots shot 13 of them down, but not before they had recovered from shock at seeing such ancient aircraft. Donahue saw the decision to send such aircraft as little more than cold-blooded murder, biplanes no match for eight-gun high-performance monoplane fighters [27, pp. 104–5]. Punch captured the moment in a cartoon on 20 November that showed Mussolini in ancient Roman uniform descending on a parachute, surrounded by his air force. This being shot down by the RAF over the coast, the caption read simply: ‘The Roman Invasion, 1940 A.D.’ [468, p. 493]. By any standards it was a desperate and foolish assault by the Italians, a lesson soon learned. Although certainly a post-Battle AM creation, Pilot Officer Prune deserves a mention because of his fighter pilot experience during the air battles, lessons from which – with the assistance of colleague AC2 Plonk – he was able to pass on in Tee Emm, the RAF’s monthly Training Memoranda. ‘Raff’s’ – actually Bill Hooper’s – development of Prune resulted in a series of cartoon portrayals of the pilot, some about the Battle [139, p. 113; 172, pp. 55–9]. One example gives a flavour with Prune hanging on to the tail-plane of a Hurricane, itself several hundred feet above an airfield, its cockpit Sutton safety harness fluttering in the slipstream; his neglecting to adjust the Sutton harness had resulted in an undignified early exit during his first victory roll [172, p. 57]. The real point was that information and advice given in training had real importance and should not be ignored. Whilst the majority of these remained in-house for the benefit of the RAF, several slim books were published, the text provided by Punch’s Anthony Armstrong, including Prune’s Progress [12] and Behind the Spitfires [279, pp. 34–5]. For many young boys the air war was a fascinating spectacle, aerial clashes between the RAF and Luftwaffe wonderful material for stories in weekly comics and annuals. Strip cartoons made it possible to develop stories with established characters and settings, the inclusion of topical themes both inevitable and desirable. The plot outcomes were skewed to ensure RAF successes against a fanatical, mean and robotic enemy. Comics included Adventure, The Beano, Boy’s Own, The Champion, The Hotspur, Meccano Magazine, The Rover, The Triumph & Gem and The Wizard, whilst the monthly Air Stories allowed for a complete focus on RAF-related materials [279, pp. 52–3]. These obviously represented a different form of propaganda to that projected at adults, but they remained important in affirming the Few’s prowess [288, p. 201]. The Young Airman’s Annual included a poem ‘To The Few’ complete with stylised images of RAF fighters, a pilot and

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RAF wings [288, p. 202]. Their collective impact was striking and actor Bryan Forbes recalled that the romance and glamour of the by then god-like Few had persuaded him that he wanted to join the RAF, he and his friends desperate to fly [288, pp. 204–5].

Magazine illustrations In addition to officially sponsored war art, or art used to illustrate books by RAF personnel, many other artists were employed to produce graphics and illustrations for newspapers, weekly magazines and advertisements. These represented informal, ‘warm’ modes of propaganda, a rapidly executed artist’s illustration a more convenient means of illustrating a newly released story by the AM, than seeking difficult to obtain photographs – if they existed – or other supporting material. In the main these were used in the absence of photographs of a combat event, or to portray aircraft in action when images were not readily available. The artwork might be executed in pencil and ink, with crayon and watercolour washes, the resulting image giving a good illustration of the subject and theme. Material produced quickly to represent very recently reported events might be sketchier in execution, whilst cutaways of aircraft, explanations of combat tactics and other manoeuvres, would be of firmer, accurate lines. Styles and quality varied, even within a single magazine. Portrayals of RAF fighters in action typically featured artists’ impressions of combats. Several confirm the styles adopted: Edward Osmond’s a ‘Heinkel brought down’ where ‘four short bursts of fire from a Spitfire delivers the coup de grace’ anticipated the coming combat [435, p. 6]; Max Millar’s ‘The protectors; Hurricane attack on Ju88s’ considered the fighter’s prowess in that role, a Hurricane destroying a Ju88 in an aerial combat [432, supplement between pp. 186 and 187]; G.H. Davis’ ‘The new technique in air attack: A British ‘‘Hurricane’’ ramming an Italian raider in mid-air’, a later event [515, pp. 672–3]; and ‘First fighter pilot’s V.C.’ – Flt. Lt. Nicolson’ was a two-page spread by Bryan De Grineau, following the pilot’s combat on 16 August [516, pp. 696–7]. A favourite approach for conveying the technological attributes of RAF fighters was to provide cutaways of the fuselages and wings, in addition to images of the aircraft in flight. ‘The Hawker Hurricane’ which provided a graphic cutaway drawing by Haworth of the aircraft and its basic performance details [577, p. 630], ‘A scourge of the Luftwaffe: the phenomenal Supermarine ‘‘Spitfire’’ ’ and ‘The British Hawker ‘‘Hurricane’’ fighter’ were artist’s impressions of the two fighters, each a full-page illustration by G.H. Davis with text [504, pp. 248–9]. ‘The Spitfire – the world’s finest fighter’ included a cutaway drawing by artist Max Millar, that had first appeared in Flight on 1 December 1938,

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in a feature on the fighter [594, p. 438]. ‘Famous British aircraft: No. 1 – a ‘‘Spitfire’’ ’ was a two-page feature including a painting by C.E. Turner [519, pp. 836–7]. The RAF’s defensive system and tactics were often portrayed, though subject to stringent security controls. ‘Air Raid’ revealed ‘what happens when an enemy plane is sighted’ including a pictorial image by Terence Cuneo of an RAF Fighter Command operations room [444, p. 12]; the same article gave an artist’s impression of a German, and RAF fighters attacking in a separate box image entitled ‘why you seldom see fighters in a raid’ by Bruce Angrave [444, pp. 24–5]. An insight into such an operations room was provided in ‘Heart of the R.A.F. fighter patrol system’, a two-page artist’s illustration by Captain Bryan De Grineau [503, pp. 202–3]. De Grineau portrayed the supporting role played by Waafs under attack in ‘The first three women to gain the coveted Military Medal for gallant conduct’, about an air attack on Biggin Hill [515, pp. 666–7]. Changing tack to the issue of aircraft claims, ‘How the score of R.A.F. fighter squadrons is counted’ was based upon a series of artist’s drawings by De Grineau in cartoon format to illustrate, supported with text, the RAF’s system for checking such claims [504, pp. 254–5]. ‘New Nazi raiding tactics’ detailed changes forced upon the Luftwaffe by RAF fighter successes in a two-page feature with a series of artist’s images by G.H. Davis ‘with official assistance’ in cartoon format, to show the changing air situation. Text supported the images, an array of formations and attacks illustrated [506, pp. 310–11]. ‘Keeping track of Nazi raiders: the method pictorially explained’ illustrated by G.H. Davis, was unlikely to offer new information [512, p. 564]. Other aspects of the air war were projected through artists’ impressions. ‘He’s going slap into the sea – and there he goes!’ by C.E. Turner, illustrated Gardner’s BBC broadcast on 14 July at Dover [499, pp. 82–3]. The War incorporating War Pictorial dated 13 September had on its front cover an image by artist Frank Wootton showing an RAF pilot parachuting, with two Spitfires protecting him – the headline along the bottom read ‘Spitfires save parachuting pilot from the ‘‘Blighters’’ ’ [576]. Captain De Grineau’s ‘A Buckingham Palace raider’s end: shot to pieces over Victoria’ showed a Do17 meeting its end following a collision with a Hurricane on 15 September, piloted by Sergeant Ray Holmes – photographs had similarly been taken of the event [507, p. 374]. At the year’s end, ‘By their works ye shall know them’ was a two-page spread of RAF fighter and bomber squadron crests [519, pp. 834–5]. The ILN in 1941 published a large, soft-back volume entitled British Air Forces, featuring brief text and artists’ portrayals or photographs of current RAF, FAA, and enemy aircraft [3]. A number of these images had previously appeared during the weekly publication of stories, De Grineau’s 17 August impression of an RAF operations room one example [3, p. 35; 503, pp. 202–3].

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Newspaper and magazine advertisements Newspapers and magazines clearly reached mass audiences, many readers potential aircrew. They were valuable given their currency as ‘hot’ or ‘warm’ propaganda, and resonance with broader events. Although some were placed by the AM and MOI, they were informal modes of official propaganda simply because they were not a direct statement on the air fighting. Several examples confirm the approach taken by advertisers. The AM’s Fly with the RAF advertisement showed an officer pilot in headgear; and the same text without the pilot appeared in The Aeroplane during the Battle. In straightforward language it simply asked for Pilots (age 18–30), Air Observers (age 18–32) or Wireless Operators/Air Gunners (18–32): the ‘rapidly expanding Royal Air Force calls for volunteers NOW!’ It confirmed that men under 33 could still volunteer even if they had registered for the Army or RN. Once fully qualified, volunteers could expect to be commissioned as Acting Pilot Officer or Sergeant, the pay for the latter 13 shillings a day for pilots [484, ad. 40; 513, p. 607; 517, p. 743]. This text from a typical advertisement, bereft of aggressive language and heroic intonations, was also used for a poster, discussed below. Pilot Officer Keith Gillman’s image as taken at Hawkinge on 29 July appeared in an undated advertisement for the RAF that presumably appeared soon after it was taken. In this advertisement the main caption was ‘Fly with the RAF’, but the preamble had taken on a more aggressive nature, Gillman’s flying-helmeted image included with a Wellington bomber behind. The text read in part: They are chosen for their fighting spirit . . . men eager to ‘let them have it hard’. They can think coolly, but their decisions are made like lightning. They are dealing the enemy deadly blows – blows he cannot escape. You can take your place among these men of the R.A.F. Volunteer for flying duties now! [300, p. 755] The AM continued to advertise strongly for aircrew, where in July 1941, some 11 advertisements were placed in the Mail and Sunday Express in that month alone [57, p. 22]. RAF pilots offered a valuable commercial marketing opportunity, a number of manufacturers and retailers not missing the chance to exploit the highly regarded Few’s prowess in patriotic ways to unashamedly sell their products. Sometimes the RAF’s links with products were obvious, but at other times required a leap of the imagination. What was striking about newspaper and magazine advertisements was that they frequently included images of fighter and bomber aircraft, in addition to RAF pilots. The extent to which the AM – and the pilots – shared advertisers’ enthusiasm for exploiting the RAF is perhaps less important than the fact that they did. No official secrets were contravened,

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and few issues of taste arose. It was in any event free advertising for the Few and portrayals were always very positive and flattering. Stock images of aircraft could be purchased from agencies, and if none of these satisfied, graphic artists were commissioned to produce artwork. A limited use was made of pilots in flying gear, suggesting that such images were hard to come by. Even so, newspaper and magazine advertisements were common before and during the Battle, featuring models dressed as RAF pilots, usually in their day-to-day ground uniforms. A wide range included Angostura Bitters drinks’ flavouring [451, rear cover], Austin Reed greatcoats [509, p. 451], Brylcream hair tonic [439, p. 6; 393, p. 6, col. a], Churchman No. 1 cigarettes, showing two fighter pilots in flying kit, with aircraft behind [498, p. 63], Craven ‘A’ cigarettes [439, p. 7], du Maurier cigarettes [377, p. 4; 440, p. 4; 443, p. 32], Eucryl tooth powder [439, p. 3], Four Square tobacco [449, p. 6], Fry’s Cocoa drink [446, p. 39], Fry’s Sandwich Chocolate with a drawing of a man in RAF pilot’s clothing [443, p. 4], Hector Powe officers’ uniforms, also featuring a Spitfire [424, p. 6], Julysia hair tonic [442, p. 32], Vita Glucose tablets were shown with a pilot [483, ad. 33], Maenson uniforms [450, p. 33], Nugget boot polish [451, p. xxviii], Ovaltine restorative food beverage and tablets featured drawings of pilots [494, ad. 35], Simpkins glucose lozenges, with an RAF pilot in headgear [451, p. xxviii] and Simpson uniforms [451, p. iii; 472, p. 8]. It was clear that few could genuinely be shown to have any real association with the RAF, the various product claims made about steadying nerves, aiding sleep, renewing energy and providing calming relaxation, difficult to reconcile with RAF fighter combats. Other examples of association included Hurricane fighter aircraft that appeared in Burberry RAF equipment [509, p. 452] and Huntley & Palmers breakfast biscuits [416, p. 4]. Further examples included Two Cardinals coffee showing an RAF officer pilot and his partner [280, p. 72]; My Goodness, My Guinness, a c.1940 billboard poster, portraying a comedic Spitfire [134, f.p. 12]; and in conjunction with a flight of RAF fighters, a cube of Oxo sitting on a wing next to a roundel affirming their mutual quality [640]. Squadron Leader Tobacco, a c.1940 advertisement showed two stylised Spitfire fighters near RAF hangers, a large roundel dominating the lower half of the image [346, p. 92]. Reproductions of the RAF’s ‘wings’ were carried on matchboxes [346, p. 205], and the Spitfire graced the cover of Spitfire Matches [279, p. 27]. Government national war bonds were advertised in popular newspapers including the Mail issue of 5 July, featuring a stylised RAF fighter above a tank with the caption ‘War bonds – counterattack’ [373, p. 10, col. a]. A slightly later advertisement with the same text showed three stylised Spitfires in a ‘vic’, with the caption ‘take them up!’ [380, p. 4, col. a]. Manufacturers’ advertisements inevitably targeted a smaller, more specialised aviation audience, but there too the Battle made its mark through informal propaganda images. Placed in The Aeroplane and Flight, these were clearly targeted at

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the aircraft industry, MAP and the RAF. Potential overseas customers in Australia, Canada and the United States might also have been desired, where war restrictions allowed. In addition to promoting the ‘superior quality’ of their products as proved in battle, manufacturers’ advertisements conveyed informal ‘warm’ propaganda through the extensive use of photographs and artists’ illustrations of aircraft, engines, aero-parts and pilot-safety equipment. Such advertisements were an important aspect of projection, many affirming the RAF’s prowess through often-adulatory images and text. Within the advertisements pilots featured far less than the aircraft themselves, even as the Battle reached its apogee. Examples included the Irving company who advertised the Irvinsuit, a full body sheepskin flying outfit, only the jacket generally worn by pilots and frequently seen in official images of the Few [473, ad. 28]; and Irvin parachutes showed a pilot and ‘chute’ safely on the ground, reinforcing its vital function [476, ad. 21]. Some advertisements used stylised fighters, strongly echoing the Spitfire’s elliptical wings such as Cellon sealing strip [479, ad. 21; 482, ad. 14], pilots’ Dinghies by P.B. Cow [475, ad. 26] and the Lacy-Hulbert portable paint compressor [486, ad. 14]. Given its celebrity both during and since the Second World War, the seductively photogenic Spitfire did not feature as widely as might be expected in trade advertisements. Before war severely restricted export trade the Spitfire was the subject of a high-quality marketing brochure in both English and French, its streamlined modernity strongly affirmed as a major asset [8]. July’s The Aeroplane featured the following Spitfire-related advertisements: Spitfire made by VickersArmstrongs [473, p. 60], Rotol constant speed airscrews [473, f.p. 74] and Skyhi hydraulic aircraft service equipment [474, ad. 19]. August’s editions were similarly thin on new Spitfire-related advertisements but included: Rolls-Royce aero engines with ten Spitfires illustrated (Plate 2) [476, f.p. 142] and the De Havilland constant speed airscrew, with a large Spitfire viewed in flight at an angle [477, c.p.]. Ransome & Marles ball-bearings, showing six Spitfires appeared on the front cover of 8 August issue of Flight [430]. September’s The Aeroplane carried Lodge spark plug ‘ ‘‘Spitfire’’-ing power’ for RR Merlin engines [480, ad. 33]; and Spitfire made by Vickers-Armstrongs with RR Merlin engine, showed three Spitfires with pilots watching them at a dispersal [481, f.p. 293]. Cellon protective finishes was featured with Spitfires on the front cover of Flight [434]. In October, KLG sparking plugs used in ‘Spitfire’ RR Merlin engine was the only new advertisement for the aircraft [484, ad. 27]. Dunlop was anxious to exploit the Spitfire’s iconic celebrity in an advertisement (possibly in the Daily Express) for its machine-gun button on the aircraft’s spade grip (as shared with the Hurricane). Headed ‘Now it can be told’ the feature showed a spade grip and gloved hand, confirming that ‘this is the button that does it’ [268, p. 119]. A Spitfire in flight with ‘1940’ as clouds behind it, proclaimed Folland Aircraft’s contribution to the fighter in December,

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and also cleverly (if misleadingly) ended the year by affirming its prowess as the key reason for success [493, ad. 15]. In July the Hurricane appeared regularly, as a single aircraft or as one of several in Ranalah sheet metal works [472, p. 29], Vokes engine oil and air filters [473, p. 9], Cornercroft engine cowlings and airscrew spinners [473, ad. 34] and Duroflex and Avioflexus aircraft power hosing [474, ad. 2]. Into August, the Hurricane continued to be a popular image but featured less with new advertisers supplying parts for it: De Havilland constant speed airscrew, a two-page advert with a large airborne Hurricane [478, between pp. 192 and 193] and E.G. Brown sheet metal work [478, ad. 25]. By 6 September the Hurricane’s role was reaffirmed, occurring in six advertisements, in addition to those previously placed by manufacturers: Cellon repair tape, protecting the protector showed six Hurricanes in formation [480, ad. 31]; Tecalemit aircraft lubrication, with four Hurricanes [480, ad. 6]; Dowty hydraulic systems [480, ad. 18]; Salter’s Springs fitted to the Hawker ‘Hurricanes’ [480, ad. 40]; Rolls-Royce Merlin aero engines showing massed formations of Hurricanes flying triumphantly over a monumental arch [480, f.p. 252]; and Rotol constant speed airscrews in production with the latest ‘Hurricane’ fighters [480, f.p. 274]. During September E.G. Brown pilots’ seats appeared with the aircraft [482, ad. 24]. October’s issues featured Simmonds Nut, with a squadron of Hurricanes [484, ad. 24], Birmetal strips [486, ad. 2] and Prestcold refrigeration for aircraft factory parts storage [486, ad. 39]. Well into December the Hurricane was featured in such advertisements (Plate 15). Few advertisements featured both the Spitfire and Hurricane during July and August, and even into September only Smith’s instruments proclaimed them the ‘defenders of Britain’, showing Spitfires, Hurricanes and Defiants [481, ad. 21]. The justly famous Rolls-Royce aero engines for Spitfires and Hurricanes [511, p. 546] and Rolls-Royce Merlin aero engine included a Spitfire and Hurricane, their legendary performance affirmed by November [488, ad. 11]. The Defiant fighter featured far less frequently than its more famous counterparts in Rolls-Royce aero engines [472, p. 17], and Defiant, made by Boulton Paul [472, p. 31]. Its daylight vulnerability soon rendered it suitable only as a night-fighter, a fact not widely advertised by the RAF or media. The Blenheim, with its dual capability as fighter or bomber, appeared in numerous advertisements but not always with regard to specific roles. Illustrations showing pilots were surprisingly few, only two appearing at the Battle’s official conclusion. Vokes oil filtration showed a pilot climbing into a Hurricane, with air activity above and noted in its text as the pilot took off for action; it continued: ‘For the finest pilots in the world only the finest machines . . . are good enough. Vokes are proud of the honour to assist the men of the Fighter Command to establish and maintain their undoubted supremacy’ [487, ad. 6]. A less adulatory advertisement for Irvin parachutes featured a pilot in a Hurricane [488, f.p. 489].

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Posters Posters varied between being either ‘warm’ or ‘cold’ as propaganda modes, it being practically very difficult to speedily mass-produce a very topical release that chimed with a specific event. At best, a broad-brush approach affirming the importance of a key message or issue over time was the most that could be expected. By 1940 posters were largely superseded by wireless, being used to convey official AM or MOI-sponsored messages or information to the home front [148; 168]. Propaganda posters sought to overcome three obstacles amongst a constituency suggested wartime graphic artist Kenneth Fougasse: these were, an aversion to reading, an unwillingness to believe that such a notice could be relevant to the reader, and finally, a reluctance to remember and act upon the message [168, p. 6]. ‘Fougasse’ drew a series of home front posters for the MOI, and was active as a cartoonist for Punch, but did little for the RAF as such. M-O cites Albig’s views of the poster, being essentially that it was most effective for appeals to semi-literate readers [57, pp. 33–4]. This view was partly confirmed by M-O who argued that it was through sustained exposure to a poster campaign that results might accrue, rapid outcomes less likely [57, p. 35]. That said the Go To It poster campaign exhorting citizens in the post-Dunkirk crisis had a powerful effect upon morale [57, p. 36]. The critical production and maintenance of RAF fighters was a clear outcome of such campaigning. Humour conveyed information and propaganda messages, but the air war offered few opportunities. Many posters concerned with or featuring the RAF were designed by the AM’s in-house DPR facilities for recruitment, fund raising and morale. Few were produced during the Battle itself – the night Blitz a separate theme – and it is difficult to precisely date those. Compared with Nazi posters of the same period the RAF’s were restrained in their stridency and scope. Whereas Nazi posters often emphasised the powerful, aggressive nature of their military – particularly for recruitment – the RAF eschewed this approach. Early war RAF recruitment posters tended to feature a peaceable pilot’s image only, aircraft, war making and ideology entirely absent. Poster designers were perhaps mindful of the voluntary tradition within the military, an essential aspect of the relationship between democracy and its protection. Overtly militaristic posters would not chime with that tradition, as reinforced by the wider range of MOI posters displayed during 1940. The Volunteer for flying duties poster was typical, a mix of colour and black & white, this banner occupying two lines and running along the top of the poster. Beneath this, to the bottom right-hand side was a black & white image of a seriouslooking pilot – actually Flying Officer Peter Parrott, later one of the Few – taken in France probably during March. He was wearing a white flying suit and helmet, being photographed from below so that his chest, shoulders and head are seen, his gaze directed slightly upwards, and away from the camera. Behind

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Parrott’s head was an RAF roundel, the outer [blue] band partly obscured behind the pilot’s head, the remainder of the emblem visible. In that position the roundel has an almost halo-like quality. The text panel to the bottom left-hand side read: ‘You can be accepted NOW for the R.A.F. as a pilot (age 18 to 30), air observer (age 18 to 32), wireless operator/air gunner (age 18 to 32). Apply R.A.F. section, combined recruiting centre’ [300, p. 728]. Serve in the WAAF with the men who fly by Jonathan Foss incorporated black & white images of Peter Parrott, as above, and a WAAF in normal uniform, looking equally serious and resolute. A coloured RAF ensign flag to the rear has the RAF roundel in the same position as that in the above poster, and stylised clouds in a red, fading to blue, sky to the background [637]. Appearing from 1939 to 1943, its relevance to the Battle was undeniable. During the Battle the AM did not exploit the Few’s successes as fully as they might have. The most famous with a direct focus upon the Few incorporated a black & white photograph of five smiling RAF, flying-helmeted NCO aircrew (Plate 16) [638]. The staged photograph used in the poster – originally entitled ‘Sergeant Pilots’ – appeared in the 12 September issue of Flight [433, p. 213], and was taken by an Illustrated photographer, probably being first published in that magazine [101, p. 6]. The image also appeared in The R.A.F. in Action, where it was simply captioned ‘Pilots and Air-Gunners’ [101, pl. 25]. Of the aircrew only two were pilots, suggesting Defiant crews. The poster is strongly at odds with the public school educated, Spitfire flying, derring-do junior officer perceived by many to represent the Few in the post-war years. Of many possible images that might have been used for the poster, it is striking that this was the one chosen, confirming as it does that it was not only officers who flew fighter aircraft. Taken from a low oblique position, all were looking up slightly, against a stylised blue sky background, with Churchill’s attributed, abbreviated inscription in large capital letters to the top: Never was so much owed by so many to so few. Other than to raise morale via the propagandising of the Few’s heroism – at which it is manifestly effective – there was no other message projected. A variation on this featured the same photograph, this time against a white background, but the lettering had been changed to Foremost in the fight for freedom . . . The British Royal Air Force grows stronger every day! Churchill’s epigraph – reprinted in full – was additionally used in a poster that included 12 photographs of downed German aircraft, and in an image to the bottom right-hand side of the poster, the two airmen to the left-hand side of the group of five, as described above (Plate 7). Its precise date unclear, it nevertheless graphically conveyed the Few’s impact upon Luftwaffe attempts to secure air superiority over Britain – and perhaps all the more powerful because of the relaxed, cheery attitude of the two men featured when juxtaposed with wrecked German aircraft [633]. An absence of RAF fighters was noteworthy, especially given the huge media coverage given to Spitfires and Hurricanes during the air fighting. Fighters did

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feature in a pre-Battle poster: Let us go forward together included Churchill dominating the image, the lettering along the bottom third, a squadron of pre-war Hurricanes behind his head, and tanks below these [168, p. 70]. This reflected the ‘very well, alone’ spirit prevalent after Dunkirk, but predated the disasters of May and June. Combat did feature in a Spitfire Fund poster. These appeals took different forms, but a widely circulated poster featured an artist’s painting of Spitfire in plan view as the main feature in a black & white image, the wingtip and tail of a shot down, smoking German bomber visible at the bottom – another fighter, almost a hybrid between a Spitfire and Hurricane was visible at bottom-left, some distance off [634]. The Aeroplane dated 20 September gave details, this ‘double crowned’ poster designed and printed by Charles Reed Ltd [482, p. 330]. Other posters are difficult to precisely date to the Battle. The 1940 Let’s Go – Wings for Victory showed a smiling RAF pilot, thumb up, encouraging contributions to the war effort. War Savings – Save! similarly included an artist’s colour impression of a pilot’s head and shoulders, the exhortation save for the brave the key message [636]. The appeal: Reserved men! Change your overalls for flying kit confirmed that You are free to fly with the RAF and included an artist’s impression using red and black, of a male factory worker at a lathe in the left-hand top corner of the image; the right-hand top corner showed an image in blue, of two RAF pilots, with one in flying clothing, walking away from a stylised fighter being serviced in the background [635].

War art − official and semi-official War art is difficult to precisely categorise in terms of its broad propaganda currency, especially where it ranged across graphic images, sculpture and in some instances the use of film [332]. Some works were produced during the Battle, and rapidly displayed, whilst others were not until some time afterwards. Other works were not produced until several years after the events they portrayed, but might still be shown publicly during wartime. Because it is not always possible to differentiate between art as ‘hot’, ‘warm’ and ‘cold’ propaganda, they are here discussed together. The First World War resulted in numerous high quality art works, with clear propaganda value. Themes inevitably focused upon war in the trenches, the mud, horror and slaughter, with a view to providing an artistic record and account. War production, portraiture of senior officers, overseas theatres of war, naval, aerial and similar topics were also addressed. A number of artists were employed by the government for such work, and were to be so again as war threatened in 1939. An advantage of war art is that it can be displayed to the public in a manner not so easily captured through photography, because of censorship, sensitivity or danger – provided access was granted to sites and personnel. Art may convey a sense of warfare that is not

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achieved through photography or film; allegorical, moralistic, propagandist and heroic themes can be developed and synthesised in ways not satisfactorily achieved through these media. As the new war began, the first meeting of the official WAAC was staged on 23 November 1939 during which decisions were made by Kenneth Clark and others, regarding both what to paint, and which artists to employ [217, ch. 28, pp. 159–63]. Meeting frequently throughout the war years, its work done, the WAAC was wound up on 28 December 1945. The intervening period witnessed a considerable range of art works – viewed with hindsight – some excellent, some less so. WAAC artists were employed on a commissioned basis or through sales of their work, where they represented a diversity of talent, approach and experience. Propaganda value through such publicity was a clear aspiration of the Services, but both the Treasury and WAAC were less convinced. The WAAC was initially unhappy about the likely impact of a propaganda dimension on artists’ approaches and the Treasury questioned the costs of the war artists’ scheme and its value to the broader war effort [217, p. 265]. Subject matter was as relevant to the Army and RN as it was to the RAF, all three the focus of artistic attention throughout the war years. Yet the AM did not appoint its own artists, despite having the clearest views about what sort of art it wanted and being keen to maximise publicity through that medium [217, p. 171]. Many war artists sought to capture that heroism through their paintings. The following discussion considers the significance of war artists’ work about the Battle, rather than their status as war artists generally. The two are sometimes synonymous, as in Paul Nash’s case. The majority of the following artists were employed during 1940, or thereafter. The appendix details relevant works by artists, and instances of publication during wartime. Pilots’ portraiture and the WAAC Portraiture of senior officers and war heroes provided evidence of a substantial history, both the British Army and RN able to display a considerable range of examples going back centuries. Conversely, the RAF, formed as recently as 1918 and with the exception of the RFC – itself part of the Army – had no such heritage to promote. Peake, as Head of the AM’s DPR, believed strongly that the AM needed good quality portraits of the RAF’s best pilots [215, p. 15]. Portraiture was thus perceived by senior RAF officers, many of whom had previously served in the Army, as an important aspect of war artists’ activity, four artists undertaking this work to varying scales for the WAAC – sometimes in addition to other art modes. Whereas more traditional portraiture employed oil paint on canvas, the majority of RAF portraits were produced with pencil, ink or pastels, resulting in either full colour or ‘black and white’ images. Invariably, these featured only the subject’s upper body from the waist or chest up, without background elements included. The pilot or airman was usually pictured either looking at

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the artist with his face slightly turned to one side, or his face seen more clearly in profile, the gaze off into the distance to the side. Faces were less commonly drawn ‘square on’ to the artist, as in a passport photograph. The faces of these young men were invariably captured as serious, resolute and tough looking, the message: here are warrior-heroes, the very same men seen (but not named) in the newsreels and newspapers. As in those contexts, the subjects often wore flying kit including Irvin jackets, silk scarves, Mae Wests, polo-neck sweaters, but more rarely, flying helmets. The portraitists showed RAF wings and medal ribbons where possible, jackets often draped over shoulders to allow this. Occasionally the subject would wear the RAF side cap at a jaunty angle, only senior officers pictured in the peaked cap. Drawings varied in size but a number were life-sized, others much smaller. In pencil drawings the artist usually wrote the pilot’s name and rank on the front of the image, in addition to his own name and the date; oil and pastel work was often treated more formally in terms of inscriptions. An advantage over oils, portraits were quicker and easier to create, always an advantage when your subject is a fighter pilot on duty at a front-line airfield. Moreover, should the pilot be a Squadron Leader he would have many administrative issues to attend to. Speed of execution was therefore of the essence, portraits perhaps completed in two hours [270, p. 76]. This made it possible to produce several during a visit, rather than the effort required for a single, fully worked up oil painting. The corollary was that these smaller portraits lacked the majesty of large, detailed oil paintings – though these were produced – and were therefore less striking when hung in officers’ Messes, government buildings and galleries. This might well have been a frustration for the artist, impressed with his subject, where seeking speedily to capture the essence of the warrior in a restrictive, sketchy medium was difficult. H.E. Bates viewed this portraiture as important, believing that until Eric Kennington and other artists drew them, the faces of the pilots were little known to the public [121, p. 178]. That said a degree of anonymity was sustained well after the Battle, not least because the portraits were not widely available to the public until published in books. Post-war, a number of the following portraitists’ images were hung in the rotunda at Bentley Priory until it ceased to be used by the RAF in July 2007, pending its controversial sale by the Ministry of Defence. Four portraitists were active of whom Eric Kennington was the most significant. A well-established First World War artist towards the end of that conflict, and into the interwar period, he worked between 1939 and 1942. He produced over 100 pastel portraits, mostly of fighter and bomber pilots (Plate 4). Richard Hillary commissioned him to produce his pastel portrait [317, pp. 280–5], with Kennington’s ‘stark emphasis of bone and sinew’ [301, p. 47]. His style reflected a deep admiration for his subjects, but some critics thought the portraits were sinister in style [217, p. 174]. That said one critic thought Kennington’s style

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well suited to portraying the modern warrior, his hard-edged style conveying their determination and grit [301, p. 47]. Harries notes that his portraits were displayed in RAF Messes as a means of sustaining morale and determination, but beyond that they were little seen [217, p. 174]. This lack of his work being used publicly led to Kennington withdrawing from the WAAC scheme, and publishing his book of portraits in 1942 [49]. His portrait of Pilot Officer Thomas Neil was typical of many more produced by the artist (Plate 17). Neil, who had joined the RAFVR in 1938, flew Hurricanes with 249 Squadron throughout the Battle during which he claimed eight aircraft shot down, two probables, one damaged, two half shares and a third and a quarter share. For this he was awarded a DFC on 8 October, promptly followed by a Bar to it on 26 November [358, p. 368]. He was thus a good portrait candidate, Kennington capturing Neil’s tough, warrior-like quality to good effect – Cuthbert Orde also did his portrait. William Rothenstein was famous as a Great War artist though his Germany ancestry caused him difficulties despite his patriotism. His work for the WAAC (1940–1944) involved touring airfields – often at the invitation of station commanders [217, p. 171] – to produce RAF pilots’ portraits, again published in 1942 [81]. Despite this his work was not considered to be of sufficient quality by the WAAC (Plate 24) [217, p. 171]. Nine of his RAF pilots’ portraits were published in the ILN on 13 July, one of which was a fighter pilot [498, p. 58]. A brief article appeared about the artist in Picture Post, in addition to three portraits of pilots [448, p. 26]. Cuthbert Orde, a former RFC pilot, worked for the WAAC between 1940 and 1945 and made some 160 independent submissions of fighter pilots’ portraits, RAF bomber aircraft and servicing activity, many published (Plate 11) [68]. Orde credited Harald Peake with being responsible for arranging the many portraits produced of fighter pilots [68, p. 7]. Thomas Dugdale similarly had had First World War art commissions. For the WAAC (1940–1942, 1945) he painted oil portraits of RAF senior personnel. Two fighter pilots’ portraits (Kayll and Farquhar) by Dugdale appeared in the ILN on 14 December [518, p. 777]. Paul Nash During the Battle itself there were few quality portrayals of air combat, broadly relevant work produced addressing fighter aircraft maintenance, particularly during 1940. In part this was attributable to the difficulty of accurate observation and recording, a challenging proposition in the midst of dogfighting. Viewed from the ground it was difficult to perceive and render the dynamism of such combat, film, photographs and written descriptions being generally inadequate guides [217, ch. 30; 316, ch. 4, pp. 95–100, pp. 178–83; 332, pp. 5–60]. Increasingly, many combats took place well above the clouds, contrails the only evidence for the presence of aircraft. In some respects it is surprising that artists

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did not make more of the opportunities presented by this attractive, and ‘new’ aspect of aviation; and certainly in the sense of public interest in the causes of ‘smoke trails’. Paul Nash, an important First World War artist, interwar Surrealist and writer, was arguably the most important person to be employed by the WAAC as war artist to the AM (1940), with the exception of Kennington. His considerable body of work included watercolours, affirmed as the best work produced by any war artist at that point [217, p. 172]. These featured RAF bombers either on the ground or in action, crashed Luftwaffe aircraft, a few aerial combats, photographs of RAF aircraft and wrecked aircraft at the Cowley Dump, and his more famous oil paintings. Despite his output and undoubted fervour, his relationship with the AM was difficult, his work often criticised – notably by Air Commodore Peake – for its ‘whimsy’, lack of attention to detail, realism or accuracy. Moreover, Nash’s approach had little appeal to the AM because his style was not suited to celebrating the nation’s RAF heroes, recently the focus of so much celebrity [217, p. 173]. Nash portrayed only one or two RAF fighters in close up, his Day Fighter (1940) conveying some of the difficulties in meeting demands for accuracy and realism [183, pl. 195a]. The oil painting was of a roughly sketched Hurricane having just shot down a Me110, which was going down in smoke. The Hurricane dominated, and at bottom right was what might be a second fighter, but this sat on top of the cloud and is hard to make out. Contrails, confirming that the combat was taking place at some height, were shown above the clouds. These elements were reasonably to be expected in an aerial combat scene but the rather hasty nature of the finish, and the lack of attention to details – whilst in accord with Nash’s surrealist temperament and style – would not find favour with Peake. Day Fighter and its companion Night Fighter – a poorly executed Defiant attacking a Heinkel 111 – were rejected by the WAAC. Both were painted between Totes meer and Battle of Britain, below. Hall considers that the only advance in these two works, when compared with earlier ones, was that Nash had gradually altered his perspective after his Totes meer from that of the worm’s eye view, to the bird’s [215, p. 34]. Nash eschewed human figures in his paintings, even where these were evident in original photographs, a tendency that sat uncomfortably with the AM who prized the contributions of individuals (even if they did not name them). Nash’s animalised treatments of RAF bombers were also unhelpful, explicated later in a March 1942 Vogue article [275]. These tensions finally led to him working for the WAAC on a ‘first refusal of work’ basis, rather than as a salaried ‘employee’, an outcome that rankled with him. Before his fall from favour in October, Nash was given access to RAF airfields, aircraft and photographs, using these as the basis for his works. Although he yearned to experience flight – applying pressure to the AM for permission – he never did get airborne, principally because of severe asthma [215, p. 16]. Many

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of his aircraft paintings were shown during 1941 and 1942 in the War Pictures at the National Gallery exhibition. Nash’s single most important treatment was captured in his Battle of Britain oil painting that was accepted by the WAAC on 12 November 1941, and first shown at the National Gallery in January 1942 (Plate 18). A large work, the completed painting split horizontally into three elements: England was represented as the land being defended in the bottom third, with barrage balloons and fighters evident above a river winding to the sea; the English Channel appeared as a worryingly thin sliver of water immediately above England itself, after which could be seen the menacing cliffs of Nazi-occupied France; the upper two-thirds of the painting depicting a massive air battle, the main centre of interest. The painting’s layout was probably influenced by a nineteenth-century French lithograph of the River Seine in Paris, complete with a storm raging overhead. Nash described his intentions for the public in an undated paper: The painting is an attempt to give the sense of an aerial battle in operation over a wide area and thus summarise England’s great aerial victory over Germany. The scene includes certain elements constant during the Battle of Britain – the river winding up from the town and across parched country, down to the sea; beyond, the shores of the Continent, above, the mounting cumulus concentrating at sunset after a hot brilliant day; across the spaces of sky, trails of airplanes, smoke tracks of dead or damaged machines falling, floating clouds, parachutes, balloons. Against the approaching twilight new formations of the Luftwaffe, threatening. To judge the picture by reference to facts alone will be unjust to the experiment. Facts, here, both of Science and Nature are used ‘imaginatively’ and respected only in so far as they suggest symbols for the picture plan which itself is viewed from the air. The moment of battle represents the impact of opposing forces, the squadrons of the RAF sweeping along the coast and breaking up a formation of the Luftwaffe while it is still over the sea. [215, p. 34] It was generally well received by reviewers, and believed to accurately reflect the heroic nature and elements of the fighting [215, pp. 34–5]. Charles Hall rejects concerns by some contemporary reviewers that the horror of war was insufficiently addressed, noting that many of the thick and substantial vapour trails reflected the dangerous menace of the dogfights [215, p. 35]. Hall also confirms that Nash based these details upon photographs supplied by the MOI, but it is not clear how these added significantly to what was already visible to any observer on the south-east coast. Aircraft were barely discernible in the painting, in contrast to Eurich’s Air Fight over Portland, below. The combatants themselves appreciated Nash’s work; one said of his Battle of Britain painting, that it exactly conveyed how it felt in the air fighting [183, p. 77]. Funded by the

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Treasury, prints were published by the National Gallery for sale to canteens and restaurants, in addition to several other artists’ significant works [217, p. 268]. Nash’s Totes meer (dead sea), 1940–41 depicted German aircraft wreckage as recorded at Cowley Dump, Oxford, almost as a postscript to his portrayal of the fighting itself [215, p. 71]. Accepted by the WAAC on 3 March 1941, the piled up remains of aircraft appear like the sea receding into the distance, as a ghostly owl flies low overhead in an otherwise lifeless landscape; the moon hangs in the distance. Black crosses and Swastikas can be seen on the wreckage, ‘a graveyard of Nazi hopes’ an apt description. Whilst no RAF aircraft feature, there is no doubt about their contribution to this moribund assemblage. Nash took a series of photographs at Cowley Dump that informed this painting, and appeared in the MOI’s ‘short’, Out of Chaos (1944, 25 minutes), drawing German aircraft wrecks. Broader air war themes painted by WAAC artists Other artists directly portraying RAF Fighter Command were similarly constrained by the difficulties of direct combat experience. Robert Austin (1940– 1944) produced literal drawings of RAF fighter aircraft being serviced, but these were as relevant to the pre-war period, or RAF in France, with several featuring in the series of slim, themed books, War Pictures by British Artists. Richard Eurich’s most significant work was produced during the summer of 1940 at Portland harbour in which he showed an air attack by the Luftwaffe being repulsed by RAF fighters, the dogfighting seen from the perspective of a high point on the ground (Plate 19). Although the aircraft are both tiny and distant, rather akin to newsreel actuality footage, this was the type of detailed, highly finished artistic portrayal that the AM undoubtedly found easier to relate to than some of Nash’s more surreal offerings. The painting was described thus: The scene is Portland and the time a day in September, 1940, when over 40 German aeroplanes were brought down in a very short action. The bombers are coming up through the low thin cloud, protected by fighters, only just visible above them. Our fighters have already dived through them and have shot some down; others, having scattered, are being chased . . . The white condensation trails in the higher altitudes show where the fighters have been at work. The ruins in the foreground are those of a castle originally built by Henry VIII. [10, p. 62] Raymond McGrath (1940) drew detailed architectural-style illustrations of RAF aircraft in hangers and being assembled, not dissimilar to his interwar Modernist architectural renderings, but combat was not portrayed. Roy Nockolds drew RAF fighters on the ground and painted them in combat scenes, the latter, with Eurich, representing the few such good-quality works produced by WAAC artists – if accuracy and attention to detail were the desired elements.

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WAAC artists ranged across various RAF-related themes and included John Armstrong’s (1940–1943) images of aircraft production and crashed Luftwaffe aircraft. Charles Cundall replaced Paul Nash in a salaried WAAC position, his Dunkirk oil painting painted featuring fighters battling for supremacy over the beaches [217, f.p. 262]. This was published in the ILN [506, p. 297]. Robin Darwin painted RAF airfield activity but the subject could be any one of the RAF’s Commands’ airfields. Thomas Monnington (1942–1945) from the beginning of the war worked at the Directorate of Camouflage, being offered a position as a war artist in 1943; he produced aerial scenes of RAF fighters and bombers. Eric Ravilious (1939–1942), a successful pre-war artist, undertook substantial work for the WAAC until his untimely death in Iceland, but little was concerned with the fighting except perhaps the Walrus aircraft used for air-sea rescues of pilots, and some scenes of coastal defences because of their inclusion of combat aircraft in flight [295]. Exploiting official war art as propaganda The propagandising of such output was achieved through various means as the war progressed – with or without artists’ consent [217, ch. 40]. Their work was made publicly available through postcards, calendars, the successful War Pictures by British Artists volumes [10], and other published media such as lithographs and photographic reproductions, the latter selling less well [217, p. 270]. H.E. Bates wrote the foreword and annotations for the slim volume of War Pictures featuring RAF artwork, originally suggesting the title You Have Seen Their Faces [121, p. 178]. Kennington, Rothenstein and Orde published individually produced portraiture, noted above, whilst the Penguin Modern Painters series featured Nash’s work amongst others [75]. Official support was needed in order to produce copies for publication, and permission to publish the details of visits to various RAF airfields, discussions with and the naming of individual personnel. Various, themed ‘war artists’ exhibitions were staged at the National Gallery, beginning on 3 July; virtually all WAAC war art was shown at various times, including much of the above material, either in London or provincial exhibitions of selected works. On 15 October The Times reviewed a new exhibition at the National Gallery in ‘Pictures by war artists – the civilians’ part’ that included works by Nash and portraits of pilots [558, p. 6, col. d]. In November, an exhibition at New York’s Museum of Modern Art included works by Pitchforth, Ravilious and Sutherland [316, p. 30]. Additionally, exhibitions went to North and South America, Canada, the West Indies, South Africa, Australia and New Zealand between 1941 and 1944 [217, p. 268]. Felicity Hanbury worked with several war artists during her time with PR10 at the DPR. She offered a fulsome tribute to their dedication and achievement, often in the face of personal hardship [291, pp. 56–7].

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Semi-official war art Not all artists worked for the WAAC, but their output was often semi-official given the nature of their employment. Frank Wootton painted civil and military aircraft and aerial combats with a very literal focus upon details and accuracy, and as a result was sometimes accused of producing illustrations rather than works of art [316, pp. 182–3]. Ironically, the RAF preferred his style to Nash’s, yet neither included detailed figures in their work [125]. Air Commodore Peake of the DPR protested at the WAAC’s rejection of Wootton’s ‘technically accurate’ portrayals of aircraft in July 1941 [316, p. 31]. It is arguable that Wootton did rather well in having his work widely used, even if not all of his output was made publicly available. He served in the RAF from late 1940 to 1944 producing technical illustrations for posters, books and training literature, and a number of oil paintings. Wootton’s iconic pre-Battle 1940 oil painting of three Spitfires in a ‘vic’, entitled Looking for trouble – Spitfires was used by de Havilland at the end of May to advertise controllable-pitch airscrews in The Aeroplane [470, c.p.] – thereafter the image appeared in his enormously successful 1941 book How to Draw Planes [318, p. 349]. The Aeroplane issue of 21 June published his oil painting of three Defiant fighters flying over a farmer ploughing his land, used as a de Havilland advertisement [471, c.p.]. A post-war assessment of his work suggested that Wootton’s position as the recorder of the Battle as it unfolded was alone sufficient to secure his reputation [318, p. 349]. Despite his ability it was not until 1944 that he was commissioned to cover the RAF in Normandy, following the intervention of Leigh-Mallory. Much cruder Battle combat scenes were produced by Richard Frost, possibly an RAF officer, and featured in Gleed’s Arise to Conquer, discussed below. Mostly in watercolour, their interest lay in the depiction of aerial combat – an underaddressed (and difficult to capture) aspect. He completed a portrait of Gleed. A.K. Lawrence, a Royal Academician, painted a series of images in watercolour and charcoal portraying pilots, and aircraft including a Spitfire and Hurricane. These illustrated Cloud Cover, an RAF IO’s account of working with various operational bomber and fighter squadrons throughout the war. Produced to illustrate various stories in the book, they do not relate strictly to the Battle [14]. Canadian artist Louis Keene’s Battle of Britain portrayed Luftwaffe formations over Britain, its date of painting unclear [241, p. 161]. A number of other Battlerelated aerial combat paintings of mixed quality are held by both the RAF Museum and the Imperial War Museum, some dating from 1941 onwards.

Battle iconography in retrospect The Battle was undeniably a powerful vehicle for iconographic propaganda: streamlined aircraft dogfighting each other, Luftwaffe aircraft plunging to their doom, modern technology and the glamorous ‘fighter boys’. Assessed as a

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whole, the sheer range and breadth of visual propaganda confirms an anxiety and willingness to project the Few and their exploits in as positive a light as possible. The more immediately salient cartoons and magazine illustrations had the advantage of being able to project key issues pictorially, with few concerns about security breaches and censorship controls. Conversely, many photographs, posters and paintings relied upon AM co-operation if they were to achieve any useful sense of authenticity, and it was to the DPR’s benefit that they were able to provide assistance. Despite this the ‘dead hand’ of official (or self-) censorship loomed large over many photographs and pictorial renderings of damage to RAF aircraft, airfields and the pilots themselves. Death never featured in its starkest form where the Few were concerned, though heavily sanitised images of dead Luftwaffe aircrew might just appear. Likewise, the media were highly likely to include photographs and images of stricken, burning Luftwaffe aircraft, but only rarely were RAF fighters so portrayed; and in the case of Nicolson’s VC, his burning aircraft was no deterrent to the shooting down of a Me110. Photographs of cheerful, recovering RAF pilots in hospitals were a gentler reminder to readers of the price being paid, but the most grievously burned – who mixed freely with locals in East Grinstead – were not featured. Commercial advertisements likewise portrayed the Few as glamorous young officers (rather than Sergeants), a reflection no doubt of the middle-classes with whom their products would most likely find favour. It is not surprising that the Battle was shrouded in an aura of almost chivalric civility given these portrayals, but the combatants on both sides would doubtless have disagreed with such a mild interpretation. That aside, as a mode of propaganda visual imagery in whatever form can be seen to have been a key aspect of portraying the Few, the Battle and its subsequent transformation into legend. Its absence would have resulted in a less colourful and immediately resonant event in that most supreme of aerial contests, providing as it did abundant opportunities for photographers, graphic designers, artists and illustrators to contribute their own sense of the air fighting.

9 Combat Report

People’s war: Britain and the Battle Sustaining high morale was a key objective for propagandists during the Battle, its positive presence going a long way to maintaining military production, enabling the home front to ‘keep taking it’, supporting the Forces, and coping with privations. It is arguable that in Britain at least, the propaganda simply chimed with the public mood and amplified what was already felt about the RAF. It is certainly the case that diaries, poems, HI reports, M-O and other sources confirmed the positive impact of daylight combat successes in sustaining morale, and notably during the period from 14 August until the 7 September attack on London; and thereafter following 15 September. The strongest interest in ‘cricket scores’, the RAF’s valour, defeating German attacks and a sense that Britain could withstand an invasion were recorded in the period to midSeptember, responses fading thereafter. Considerable incidental propaganda was provided by the RAF’s determined attacks against Luftwaffe formations, and the subsequent media coverage of them using eyewitness testimony. The public living in the south-east could see for themselves what the RAF was doing in their defence, and compare individual air combats with those reported in the news. Where visible, this was a new and unexpected type of warfare, immensely stimulating, especially if one stood in the fields, or on cliffs beneath a dogfight. ‘The battle is one of hawks, of kestrels, of jerfalcon against peregrine, not of the bird of prey which swoops on its unequal victim and strikes it down mercilessly’ suggested Spaight, one of several writers observing close similarities with avian raptors [87, p. 114]. Also drawing a parallel with a peregrine falcon on the wing in pursuit of prey, Sheean wrote: ‘you could not see a duel in the air without thinking of two hawklike youths in armour, brief falcon lives launched one against one in the briefest, purest combat ever known’ [84, p. 154]. Charles Graves also drew comparisons with birds of prey: ‘Stooping like a falcon to 1000 feet, Tommy got a Ju.87 and sent it base over apex with his first burst’ 224

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[37, p. 188]. The Times on 23 September reported the comments of BrigadierGeneral Strong, part of an American mission in Britain to study the progress of the air war. He affirmed of the RAF’s pilots that: ‘Last Sunday he saw three British Hurricanes strike at a formation of 32 German aeroplanes over London. ‘‘It was like a hawk coming down on chickens in a barnyard. The Germans scattered like a bat out of hell’’ ’ [543, p. 4, col. d]. This symbolism was repeated in the film A Canterbury Tale (1944) during which a Merlin falcon released by a medieval falconer was seen high on the wing in pursuit of prey, its silhouette suddenly transformed into a Spitfire. Harold Nicolson’s wife, Vita Sackville-West recorded a similar impression of falcons and prey: Then the planes arrive. They fly overhead in a great flight like geese . . . We then observe that one goose has become detached from the flight and that two fighters are tumbling round it in the summer sky. Machine-guns cackle. The goose wavers in its flight; it banks; it sinks; it is wounded; its great wings flap; we hear later that it has come down at Appledore, ten miles away. [83, pp. 78–9] H.E. Bates saw the connection with ‘the attempted invasion by air by those hordes of silvery fighter planes whirling like seagulls above flocks of bombers flying like black geese over the ripening Kent countryside’ [15, p. 52]. Perceived romantically (if mistakenly) as a chivalric clash of arms, the young knights of the air slid cockpit canopies forwards as knights might snap shut their helmet visors. In a rare tribute to Dowding, the Secretary of State for Air referred to Fighter Command’s head, and the pilots, ‘as one gallant company of knights of the air who are thwarting Hitler’s foul conspiracy and saving their country and the world not only by their deeds but by their example’ [540, p. 5. col. f]. The RAF fighter pilots’ prowess and valour were thus immortalised as a continuation of the past. Saunders in his 1941 pamphlet suggested such parallels: The contest may, indeed, be likened to a duel with rapiers fought by masters of the art of fence. In such an encounter the thrusts and parries are so swift as to be often hard to perceive and the spectator realises that the fight is over only when the loser drops his point or falls defeated to the ground. [93, p. 4] Public perceptions about the RAF’s fighter pilots’ successes were highly positive, favourable comments being recorded even before the air fighting began. In a letter to an American correspondent dated 30 May, F.T. Jesse wrote as the Dunkirk evacuation was underway: ‘We seem to have bred a race of men who have taken to the air as naturally as, being islanders, the English always took

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to the sea. Man for man and machine for machine, the Germans are not comparable to them’ [95, pp. 411–12]. Writer Arthur Mee was moved to record of the fighter squadrons supporting the Dunkirk evacuation that: ‘sitting in our gardens in Kent we saw the flying squadrons come and go – go to fight a pitiless foe, come with our exhausted heroes whose bodies could stand no more but whose spirit lives to fight again. It was thrilling to look up and see them pass in the sky’ [59, p. 60]. But they were not immortal, as captured by Miss A.G. Herbertson in ‘Passing of an Airman’, a three-verse eulogy published in Punch on 3 July, its provenance relevant to loss during the Battle of France and Dunkirk. She charted the airman’s transition from life to death, reflecting on the glory to be found in hitherto unsuspected skies as the brave young man passed on [452, p. 23]. Into early July HI recorded regular comments about the fighter pilots across Britain, whether close to the action or hearing of it from further away. Typically, the RAF’s early successes gave people increasing confidence in their defensive abilities, such views including those reported in Leeds on 4 July where ‘People are becoming increasingly confident in the efficiency of the R.A.F. and attribute the fewer alarms to the powers of the Fighter Command’ [600 (4.7.1940)]. Similar confidence was expressed on 11 July in Manchester, where ‘R.A.F. feats cause much satisfaction’; in Tunbridge Wells, with ‘Growing confidence in ability of R.A.F. to defend the country’; and also, Belfast, where ‘R.A.F. successes yesterday strengthened confidence’ [600 (11.7.1940)]. On 12 July Manchester residents again affirmed their appreciation: ‘R.A.F. successes a tonic’ [600 (12.7.1940)], the same spirit evoked on 15 July in the daily report on morale: ‘The bringing down of raiders in the [attacked] area has a psychological effect immensely greater than the military advantage gained’ [600 (15.7.1940)]. Eleven days into the official Battle, Mollie Panter-Downes wrote in her diary that: ‘a big increase in confidence traceable to the German pilots’ evident reluctance to face up to British Hurricanes in the air battles of the past fortnight’ [70, p. 79], followed on the 21 July with: ‘The skill and audacity of the R.A.F. youngsters have so captured the public imagination that the fliers are spoken of with almost poetical admiration, as though they were knights on wings’ [70, pp. 78–9]. Admiration continued into late July, a report from Cardiff noting that the interception and shooting down of 20 aircraft on their way to attack Wales had caused much satisfaction, as well it might [600 (26.7.1940)]. Continued confidence in the RAF was reported from Belfast [600 (26.7.1940)] and Bristol [600 (27.7.1940)], the reasons not difficult to find, as recounted by Panter-Downes on 28 July: ‘The results of the air battles have confirmed the general impression that the British pilots are outflying the Germans, man for man and plane for plane’ [70, p. 80]. Continued attacks against Dover targets were repelled by the RAF, the results commented on in Birmingham, as giving immense satisfaction [600 (30.7.1940)]; Tomlin, reflected on the same attack in his diary on 30 July: ‘It is

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delightful to read of the battle of Dover. The RAF is indeed grand.’ He continued with a reference about Army attitudes to the RAF: ‘a customer mentioned that her son (Army) says, ‘The RAF boys are the darlings of the nation’ [202, p. 319]. Writing on 5 August Tomlin recorded an assessment offered by a soldier in the Tank Corps: ‘His admiration for the Royal Air Force was generous. Stories of their marvellous prowess and courage are universal’ [202, p. 325]. Inter-Service rivalry could lead to tensions though: one young trainee RAF bomber pilot when asked at a dance how one could tell the difference between a bomber and fighter pilot, replied bitterly: ‘There is none, except that the fighter pilots all have the D.F.C.’ [82, p. 145]. The build up to Adler Tag saw continued claims of RAF successes in large air battles, and widespread pleasure expressed by HI across the country. For example, the daily report on morale on 12 August confirmed: ‘There is considerable jubilation about our successes in the Channel air battles’, but added with a note of caution: ‘there is some evidence that people feel that our planes are being lost for purely defensive reasons’ [600 (12.8.1940)]. Many saw the dogfights almost as entertainment: Vita Sackville-West in her ‘War in the country, August 1940’ confirmed of ‘Panic-stricken Kent’ that ‘We had just counted a third wave of forty bombers and fighters roaring past, leaving white streamers . . . ‘‘Please, madam,’’ said a quiet voice, ‘‘would you like luncheon out of doors? Then you could watch the fights better’’ ’ [83, p. 80]. Adler Tag itself confirmed an increasing intensity in the air fighting, the media reporting very widely upon RAF prowess. On 14 August reports from Edinburgh affirmed that: ‘R.A.F. successes are warmly praised everywhere, and our official figures of German and British plane losses are not questioned, although many believe that damage is minimised’ – comments in the same report from London merely confirmed that news of the battles was stimulating the public [600 (14.8.1940)]. A letter to an American on 14 August conveyed the latest news: ‘England has been attacked without cease . . . and I can only say that our airmen are doing gloriously. You will have seen that yesterday we brought down many German ‘planes with slight loss to ourselves’ [96, p. 47]. Into mid-August, regular media reports sustained high confidence in the RAF, HI recording comments in Cambridge, Reading and Cardiff that the RAF were being widely praised, the aircraft claims exceeding the ‘wildest expectations of sceptics’ [600 (15.8.1940)]. By 17 August it was reported that the air battles remained the main topic of conversation, but that they were not seen principally as sporting events, as had been the case earlier; it was also noted from Manchester that following his BBC broadcast, ‘Disappointment expressed that Joubert should think the public not properly appreciative of the heroic action of the R.A.F., when in fact admiration is unbounded’ [600 (17.8.1940)]. Residents in the thick of the action in Kent had many opportunities to see the battles in progress. A report from Worthing confirmed that the growing number of

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enemy aircraft shot down was having ‘a tonic effect’ on locals, one recent raid including 140 Luftwaffe aircraft [600 (20.8.1940)]. Naomi Royde-Smith wrote to an American friend that: ‘If you hear anyone casting doubts about our figures of Jerries shot down you can at least tell them that this part of the country is absolutely strewn with wrecks’ [82, p. 183]. Punch published appreciative poetry about the pilots’ successes, arguments about claims in the news leading E.V. Knox to pen ‘The Reckoning’ that ridiculed Goebbels’ claims for RAF aircraft shot down. Published on 21 August it confirmed in its central verse that despite the loss of Heinkels from dawn to dusk, the Nazis simply resorted to acknowledging one loss when there had perhaps been 12 [457, p. 188]. ‘Personal valour’ by Vita Sackville-West appeared on 23 August, by which time there was little doubt about the RAF pilots’ determination, her verse capturing their sense of courageous resistance to Hitler’s onslaught, all doubts about the seriousness of Britain’s plight dispelled [587, p. 196]. Invoking the spirit of Sir Francis Drake’s island England, in ‘Drake’s Breed’ by C. Fox Smith, on 4 September, a parallel was drawn between the navy facing the Spanish Armada and the aeroplane as the mount of the New Elizabethans, harrying their foe, one to ten [459, p. 251]. D.S. MacColl’s ‘England at bay’, published on 13 September in War Illustrated, was similarly moved by the sudden primacy of the air fighting where previously the RN had held sway. It echoed Churchill’s tribute: ‘so many to so few’ [590, p. 280]. Margery Allingham’s The Oaken Heart recounted how she daily witnessed and faced dangers in the village of Tolleshunt D’Arcy in Essex, her book written as an extended letter to American friends as a record of daily life in the village of ‘Auburn’, a fictitious settlement in the front line. On one occasion she watched the RAF in action: The most impressive war sight I have yet seen in the sky in daylight was just before the beginning of the big London blitz in September . . . The hum of planes, which by this time had become a commonplace, was in the air . . . seventy-five Junkers bombers in formation . . . I saw two little planes darting in and out amongst them, moving up and down like a woman sewing, for quite a while, or it seemed a while, until they began to break formation, and then I realised who and what the little ones were. It did not look real, any of it. [1, pp. 229–230] By 10 September, despite the fighting having been ongoing for two months, dogfights still fascinated many, a report from Tunbridge Wells confirming that: ‘People are still going out into the streets to witness thrilling dog-fights overhead’ [600 (10.9.1940)]. Although not generally on a large and sustained scale, citizens beyond the south-east region were able to watch the air fighting. A report in the daily report on morale included Cardiff RIO’s comment that

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‘miners cheering on slag-heaps as they watch air battle’ [600 (17.8.1940)]. On the same date a report from Reading confirmed that the key point of conversation were eyewitness accounts of enemy aircraft being brought down, the punishment inflicted outweighing any damage they achieved in attacks [600 (17.8.1940)]. Even as far north as Newcastle dogfights were to be seen, HI reporting many instances of people watching air battles and cheering the RAF’s fighters [600 (19.8.1940)]. The same spirit was captured in Lowestoft on 22 August when in response to a German raid ‘The appearance of R.A.F. fighters was heartening’; and ‘A large scale air-battle over Bristol had a remarkably stimulating effect on the thousands who watched the enemy planes being routed by our fighters’ [601 (30.9.1940–9.10.1940)]. Royde-Smith had also witnessed a large attack, writing to a friend: I suppose you have heard about the Battle of Bristol . . . A German formation of 80–100 planes crossed the coast at Weymouth and made straight for Bristol. The machines were flying at a tremendous height and looked like tiny silver fish in the brilliant blue sky. By that time our fighters had got amongst them and were breaking them up. [82, p. 101] Allingham, recording a separate air battle, also captured the essence of the fighting: To see a Spitfire attack a formation at that height was like watching tiny creatures in a pond, and it was only when suddenly a plane would come hurtling through the eddying blue, growing larger and larger and disappearing over one’s immediate horizon that it came home to one with unbearable vividness that they were real machines with real men in them. [1, p. 228] Into September it became common to see German bombers over the centre of the capital, from where thousands could observe the air fighting. Newspapers reported on a number of aerial engagements but much depended on how high the combats occurred, and the cloud and haze conditions. Seeing massed enemy formations being attacked by the RAF was exciting copy: ‘Londoners see air battles – 4 bombers fall over suburbs’ reported the Telegraph before the Blitz began in earnest [424, p. 5, col. e], but two days later over the Thames estuary, haze made it difficult to see the dogfights [529, p. 4, col. f]. ‘Intense fighting seen from London – 34 destroyed in an hour’ was a lengthy Times article combining eyewitness accounts with AM information, again confirming London as its front line [531, p. 4, col. a]. Of many reports following 15 September, the Mail’s front page confirmed that a ‘Million cheer London battle’ [370, p. 1]. Following extensive media coverage it was inevitable that the public would respond with views such as: ‘Yesterday’s aerial successes have produced enthusiastic praise for

230 The Good Fight

the R.A.F.’ [600 (16.9.1940)]; and, in Belfast: ‘There is enthusiastic praise for the way in which the R.A.F. has . . . brought down so many aircraft in London raids’ [600 (16.9.1940)]. The intense fighting at the end of September again drew press coverage in ‘Violent air fighting seen by London crowds’ as a reminder that the Luftwaffe had not yet given up on its daylight offensive [548, p. 4, col. f]. Striking a discordant note, there was criticism about daylight attacks especially when the RAF was not visible. For example, Scottish citizens on Clydeside and elsewhere complained about the apparent lack of RAF fighters to deter Luftwaffe bombers, and a report confirmed that Edinburgh residents were impatient for: ‘a first glimpse of a Spitfire chasing a Dornier’ [600 (16.8.1940)]. On 23 August, ‘Widespread indignation to-day at German planes appearing over London and dropping bombs without hindrance or siren warnings for eighteen or nineteen minutes’ was recorded, confirming that it was not a problem confined only to the north [600 (23.8.1940)]. From London it was also reported: ‘Why should we send only a few fighters to meet forty or fifty German planes? If we sent more the destruction of enemy aircraft would be greater; begin to wonder if we have enough aeroplanes to meet such attacks’ [600 (25.7.1940)]. From Cambridge came: ‘The apparent ease with which R.A.F. stations are attacked has caused some surprise, especially among those who learn of the effects at first hand’ [600 (27.8.1940)]; and in Bradford people simply asked ‘Why have we no Spitfires?’ [600 (3.9.1940)]. Nearer the front line, despite an RAF fighter airfield just outside Exeter at its pre-war airport, concerns were expressed about the lack of fighter cover for the city [600 (21.8.1940)]. However, confirming the difficulties of accurate assessments of morale and contradictory public perception, only two days later on 23 August it was reported that: ‘Rumour in Exeter that the local squadron secured most victories in last Sunday’s air battle makes many think that the proximity of a champion squadron adds to Exeter’s vulnerability’ [600 (23.8.1940)]. The night Blitz was a contentious issue, many respondents expressing concern about the apparent lack of nightfighters taking on single German bombers, sometimes circling unopposed for hours above a town or city. HI confirmed anxieties throughout Britain, residents in Tunbridge Wells even reported on 21 September as asking: ‘why can’t Spitfires be armed with searchlights’? [600 (21.9.1940)]. ‘Saucepans into Spitfires’ and Spitfire Funds Clear evidence of propaganda reach was manifested through public engagement with appeals for aluminium and money to purchase fighter aircraft – humble aluminium pots and pans thus became commodified as an essential ‘People’s War’ contribution. Lord Beaverbrook spearheaded the ‘Saucepans into Spitfires’ campaign launched on 10 July, with a brief statement issued to the press demanding aluminium from Britain’s women [16, p. 61]. Media coverage was extensive, the streamlined Spitfire a superb icon for media engagement.

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The day following Beaverbrook’s appeal drew a two-page response from the Mirror with the caption: ‘Whenever you read of a thrilling air feat, you can say . . . perhaps my saucepan made part of that plane.’ A squadron of Hurricanes in line abreast and a heap of saucepans confirmed the relationship [378, pp. 6–7]. It did not matter that few such kitchen implements were ultimately converted into fighter aircraft, the aluminium generally of poor quality. In propaganda terms the media got behind the campaign and gave extensive coverage to it, the press, newsreels and BBC ensuring that the message was widely disseminated. The Times on 14 September reported on progress in ‘Pots and pans into aeroplanes – Sorting housewives’ gifts to nation’, a reminder that over a month after the appeal was made, pots were still pouring in [536, p. 6, col. d]. A Movietone newsreel released on 30 September typified the coverage, where saucepans were shown being melted down and fashioned into ingots, thereafter delivered for aircraft production. It was not only aluminium that found its way to municipal dumps for war recycling, but iron railings and gates too. A separate strand that progressively confirmed AM propaganda success, and offered fresh opportunities were the Spitfire Funds, the idea originating with individual contributions. Gordon Beckles’ Birth of a Spitfire detailed the development of the Spitfire Fund and major drive to increase production after Dunkirk and leading into the Battle. This subsequently proved an essential if controversial programme of accelerated development, not least because of the negative impact upon other military production. The Spitfire’s role in the Battle was discussed, with details of enemy aircraft shot down and the efforts of local fundraisers [16, pp. 90–117]. Beaverbrook, in a BBC broadcast to the world on 24 July, thanked contributors for sending in unsolicited donations for the purchase of aircraft, a trend that had begun haphazardly in June [16, pp. 83–5]. The government had in reality no choice but to provide such aircraft, with or without the financial assistance of individuals in towns, cities or villages, and production was not speeded up at all by the inflow of contributions. Dissent was occasionally expressed based upon that reasoning. For example, on 26 August HI reported that the Lord Provost of Glasgow had refused to sponsor the Spitfire Fund – and received considerable support for it – on the grounds that ‘it is the Government’s job to provide planes’ [600 (26.8.1940)]. Some pilots were unhappy too: on 19 September The Times reported a BBC broadcast in which a Hurricane pilot wondered at the Spitfire’s pre-eminence in the media with ‘Hurricane pilot’s query – Why only Spitfire funds?’ [540, p. 9, col. f]. Despite their immense popularity the campaign was not universally welcomed, The Aeroplane magazine carrying several cartoons in later 1940, discussed previously, highlighting the contrast between homeless citizens and the fighter funds, and striking a discordant note with the implications of misplaced generosity and aid.

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It is striking that in The Aeroplane magazine the Spitfire did not receive any coverage in the way of articles or photographic content during the six months from June to December, the attention going instead to the Hurricane. Whilst this was not unreasonable given that fighter’s importance, a sense of pettiness is conveyed in an otherwise balanced weekly diet of aviation news. This stance was changing into the Autumn: in its ‘Ordeal by Spitfire’ article published on 8 November, The Aeroplane printed the AM’s account of recent air actions, noting the pre-eminence of the Spitfire. Acknowledging the secondary role of the Hurricane in more recent defensive actions the magazine confirmed that the AM’s ‘Official communiqu´es spoke almost exclusively of Spitfire successes’ in air fighting at the end of October. Grudgingly acknowledging the relative merits of Spitfire and Hurricane, The Aeroplane conceded that the Hurricane was perhaps best suited to attacking bombers, whilst ‘The Spitfire, with its extra speed, is master of both fighters and bombers’ [489, p. 504]. Publicly, the idea for making donations spread, some contributions initially made for the purchase of specific aircraft parts. Following increasing public requests for purchase price details the cost of a Spitfire in 1940 was put at a figure well in excess of £5000, but the government accepted the round figure for the purposes of public engagement. The fuselage at £2500 and the Merlin engine at £2000 were the single most expensive items; wings cost £1800, with the remaining items varying greatly in price [16, pp. 78–80]. In identifying individual prices it was easier for citizens to make a contribution on an incremental basis. For example, a boy donating a shilling of his pocket money had paid for two rivets, whilst a more generous donation of £5 bought a compass [16, pp. 78–80]. As individuals and town councils became involved the idea developed rapidly through more formal Spitfire Fund campaigns, purchased aircraft emblazoned with the names of donating towns. Friendly competition thus developed, cities and towns, regions and associations vying with each other to achieve the maximum level of donations. Donating money to a Spitfire Fund – usually in exchange for a Spitfire Fund lapel badge or button – were tangible means of being able to say ‘I’m doing my bit’, as were special events to achieve the same. Stamps were valuable as propaganda to raise money. The undated ‘Spitfire Fund and Empire propaganda stamps’ were intended to achieve two purposes: these being stated on the blue and red cover as ‘tell the world our aims’ and ‘more and more planes essential’ [639]. Twenty-four stamps sold for one shilling, the purchaser reminded that the proceeds were to be spent ‘half [on] Spitfires, half [on] propaganda’. The ‘Hendon four fighter fund’ stamps reflected an Empire-wide campaign to provide fighters for the RAF, stamps selling for various amounts ranging from one penny to one pound. A ‘card of honour’ was issued to purchasers of stamps that included a ‘stamp of honour’ and the purchaser’s handwritten details. The card’s inscription confirmed the

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value of investing in the present struggle, with an optimistic eye on the distant future: Each stamp on this card is another Rivet in one of the Four Fighter Aircraft that will make air-fighting history against an enemy that menaces civilisation. In years to come when Peace has followed Victory, you will be able to show this Card of Honour to your children’s children . . . you will remember how your effort of to-day supported the amazing performance of our steelnerved Fighter Crews who, in 1940, are our gallant representatives in aerial combat. [113, p. 37] HI reports on home front morale picked up positive attitudes towards Spitfire Funds from the outset, an early initiative shown by 50 women in Pinner, London who had contributed to a fund up to 6 July [600 (6.7.1940)]. From Birmingham on the 26 July came news that campaigns for fighter aircraft had received a good level of support [600 (26.7.1940)], and that a month later the Lord Mayor of Birmingham had inaugurated a Spitfire Fund for the city [600 (8.8.1940)]. Other regional cities had similarly embarked upon fundraising: from Nottingham it was reported that ‘Spitfire funds have reawakened enthusiasm ‘‘to do something for the nation’’ ’ [600 (12.8.1940)]; in Newcastle delight was expressed because ‘The success of local campaigns for Spitfires has been remarkable’ [600 (26.8.1940)]; and impressively, it was reported, ‘the Belfast Telegraph Spitfire Fund expected to reach enough for a squadron to-day’ [600 (28.8.1940)]. From Reading it was reported on 3 September that ‘Enthusiasm for the numerous Spitfire funds shows the temper of the people, in spite of the rise in cost of living, shortages of various commodities, and the ever present threat of air attacks’ [600 (3.9.1940)]; and two days later from Cambridge that ‘The rising number of Spitfire funds in the region indicates the admiration and gratitude that is felt for the R.A.F.’ [600 (5.9.1940)]. M-O diarist Pam Ashford recorded on 24 August that ‘the Director of Lewis’s had given money to buy a Spitfire’, continuing that ‘There is plenty of talk about buying Spitfires. Some people want to have Spitfire bought by all the ‘‘Davids’’, all the ‘‘Margarets’’, etc’ [202, p. 344]. Perry made a more modest contribution on 5 October, near Mitcham, paying sixpence into the Spitfire Fund to view a He111 that had been brought down in Kent [292, p. 178]. For many, that was as close as they were likely to get to the actual fighting, but the display of aircraft was a strong reminder of the realities – and a big draw for the public. Newspaper coverage of Spitfire Fund donations ran throughout August, September and October, citizens young and old, from differing social backgrounds making donations. Mirror examples from before Adler Tag included: ‘Raid money-box for Spitfire’ [395, p. 11, col. b]; ‘She’s going to get a Spitfire’ [396, p. 3, col. a]; ‘Sold her toys to buy plane’ [396, p. 10, col. c]; and ‘16

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warplanes gift by M.P.’ [399, p. 1], reflecting the early engagement of the young and the rich. By 19 August, a matter of days following the increased Luftwaffe assault, The Times reported: ‘More gifts for aircraft – £3,050,000 already received – Spitfire in memory of airman son – Three from Sunderland’, reflecting an already hugely successful campaign [522, p. 2, col. c]. In later August the purchase price of a Spitfire was affirmed in: ‘Tragic village gives £5000 for a Spitfire’ [406, p. 3, col. d], and ‘£5000 cheques and pennies for planes’ [407, p. 10, col. c], by which time the air battles were receiving considerable media attention. ‘Tally Ho! Spitfires’, also about Spitfire Funds appeared in the Daily Sketch at the end of August [418, p. 4, col. c], and an emotive account of the personal impact of war was addressed in ‘Her loss aided Spitfire Fund’ and ‘Borough’s £1800’ [416, p. 2, col. c]. The government expressed its appreciation to subscribers, a report carried on 2 September [527, p. 2, col. e], but it is not clear whether this extended to a German pilot’s gift to the fund of five marks [528, p. 2, col. g]. On the day that London was attacked in strength Picture Post included a full-page image of a Spitfire cockpit complete with instrument labels, as it launched its own fund (Plate 20) [446, p. 35]. As September drew on various donations received attention, the contributors including Northern Irish citizens [532, p. 2, col. f], soldiers [533, p. 2, col. d], writers and artists [538, p. 6, col. g], Durham miners [541, p. 9, col. f], an ‘old people’s’ collection in an air raid shelter [562, p. 2, col. b], and £8,000,000 raised in Birmingham in War Weapons Week, some going to fighters [567, p. 2, col. b]. On 20 September The Aeroplane confirmed that £4,081,102 had been donated to aircraft funds, mostly to Spitfire funds. ‘There’s a lot in a name when dealing with the Great British public’ it confirmed rather petulantly, but given that £3,420,018 came from abroad, the opposite could equally be argued [482, p. 310]. It was not only to Britain that Churchill and his government could look for support. Punch’s 17 July issue captured the mood, two soldiers relaxing at the sea’s edge: ‘So our poor empire is all alone in the world’, said one. The other responded: ‘Aye, we are – the whole five hundred million of us’ [454, p. 63]. Responses from the British Empire and other countries was heartening, almost £3.5 million raised by 20 September from overseas for fighters. As early as 16 July donations included eight Spitfires from India [382, p. 2, col. d], and further aircraft donated almost a month later [401, p. 11, col. d]; a Dutch gift to the fund [419, p. 2, col. c], and colonial gifts from Borneo [536, p. 6, col. c] and Uganda were generous [544, p. 6, col. c]. Further gifts were received from India through the Viceroy’s fund that had reached £1,500,000 by early October, in addition to a separate donation of £54,000 from an Indian prince [553, p. 7, col. d]. The Sudan contributed £100,000 for fighters [554, p. 4, col. f], and money was also provided from Ireland, despite its neutral stance [563, p. 2, col. d]; other donations from overseas continued to be received towards the end of October [566, p. 2, col. e; 570, p. 2, col. c]. It was of course valuable to remind

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readers that they were not alone in doing all they could to ensure a British victory, the Empire a vital aspect of Britain’s ability to continue the fight [233, ch. 10]. In addition to the Spitfire Fund, many of its countries pledged ‘freewill offerings towards victory’, as reported in the ILN that devoted a two-page spread to detailing individual contributions. The total donated was £50,000,000 by the end of September [508, pp. 392–3]. More light-heartedly, appeals for aluminium and contributions for aircraft funds were reflected in various poems that although not distinguished, reflected their time. For example, ‘To My Gate, On Going Out Into the World’ by Lord Dunsany captured the (hoped for) transformation of his garden gate into a fighter aircraft, a hitherto unexpected ascent to glory [455, p. 95]. Miss C. Fox Smith’s ‘Everybody’s Doing It’ applauded the widespread drive to purchase Spitfires and Hurricanes for the RAF, in a lengthy tribute to such generosity. She captured the national emergency being met with donations for fighters, but equally anticipated that bomber funds would be next, so that the RAF could ‘go and bust the Hun’ [462, p. 316]. An unattributed verse, ‘More About Aerial Scrap’ echoed Cawser’s ‘Salvage Song’, below, wherein a Hoover was transformed into a fighter to sweep Heinkels from the skies [464, p. 377]. Almost two weeks after the official end of the Battle, ‘London Chimes’ was published in Punch dated 13 November and authored by Miss Mary Holden. A light-hearted verse that played on a childhood theme, she rhymed ‘Spitfires and Blenheims’ with ‘bells of St. Clements’ in her exhortation for people to donate to the Spitfire Fund [467, p. 467]. Harder to date in terms of publication, ‘Salvage Song’ (or: ‘The Housewife’s Dream’) by Elsie Cawser was a light-hearted but evocative comment on Spitfire Fund demands for aluminium [322, p. 95]. It summed up the willing sacrifice, its conclusion confirming the transformation of her kettle into a Hurricane fighter, by which means she enchantingly captured the vision of a German bomber being chased by the former whenever dogfights were reported on the wireless. Brown says of it that it was one of the most delightful poems written during the crisis of 1940, as indeed it was [136, pp. 88–9]. Musicians too were keen to pay tribute to the ‘fighter boys’, and to encourage contributions to the war effort, whether for Spitfire Funds or other war appeals, using popular dance music as vehicles for raising morale. For example, The Hampshire Spitfire Song featured words and music by H.M. King and was unashamed in its aim to raise money. Music had an important context, where in early 1940, M-O had considered the morale-boosting importance of music in ‘Dancing Through’ and the thousands of airmen and women regularly enjoying nights out [40, ch. 9]. Several songs reflected the focus upon the air war during later 1940: Sam Brown’s The Spitfire Song (1940), Geraldo’s If I Only Had Wings (1940), Pat Kirkwood’s The Victory Roll (1940–1941) and I Fell in Love with an Airman (1940) by Tessie O’Shea; Jack Payne’s Lords of the Air (1939) achieved a similar status. Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again (1939) was immensely popular,

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and remains emblematic of the period [321, ch. 5]. A Pair of Silver Wings (1942) by Dinah Shore was effusive in its praise. Writing in June 1942, Hillary found the adulation extended to pilots in popular music difficult and particularly ‘Silver Wings’: ‘Within one short year he has become the nation’s hero, and the attempt to live up to this false conception bores him . . . Songs such as ‘‘Silver Wings’’ . . . make him writhe with very genuine embarrassment’ [45, p. 52].

Persuading America Because of American isolationist resistance to becoming embroiled in a second European war, President Roosevelt, then late in his second presidential term, was placed in a difficult position. Inevitably, the rapid fall of France [229] and Dunkirk withdrawal [56] did little to encourage optimism that Britain could survive, many Americans believing that defeat by the autumn of 1940 was inevitable. Many opponents therefore deemed practical support pointless, with the result that the early stages of the Battle were played out as remote events insofar as broad American public awareness was concerned. Most Americans were more interested in China’s continuing resistance to Japanese invasion rather than a small, glamorous air battle between two elites occurring over the Channel and south-eastern region of England – or at least until the Blitz began [284, p. 131]. Strategically, the earlier skirmishes did not appear to herald an impending invasion, or offer a decisive conclusion to the standoff between Britain and Germany. There was American coverage of these combats, but not on the scale that would be reached in August. For example, on 11 July the New York Herald Tribune reported on the major attack on a British convoy that marked the opening event of the official Battle [203, p. 85]; and on 25 July the New York Times included a description of the air fighting that day and the claims made by both sides [203, p. 92]. Through the American media, the British AM had asked for suitable pilots to fly with the RAF, this reported by the New York Herald Tribune on 15 July [203, p. 92]. This contravened the strict US Neutrality Act, placing errant individuals in some personal difficulty that perhaps deterred potential American flyers. The Mirror carried two articles about the initial, positive response, though neither turned out to be accurate. On 20 July it reported: ‘Rush from U.S. to join R.A.F.’ [384, p. 3, col. d]; and on 3 August, ‘Hundreds from U.S. to fight’ [394, p. 2, col. b]. Given the unexpected twists and turns of the previous few weeks, how best to manage the propaganda war had arisen as an issue for the British (and the Germans). During late June Churchill saw little merit in seeking to develop a propaganda campaign in the United States, and given the pressures he faced, initially paid little attention to the possibilities leaving it instead to the MOI [209, p. 614]. In contrast to the British Ambassador to America, Lord Lothian, Churchill’s view – not unreasonably – was that the actual evidence of heroic

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resistance and success would play much more strongly [167, pp. 76–7]. By 7 July Churchill had revised his view and asked the MOI to pay urgent attention to developing a propaganda campaign in America, but initially this was centred upon Lord Lothian [167, p. 77]. In tandem with – but separately from – Lord Lothian, Duff Cooper as head of the MOI had begun to initiate plans for a New York office and a propaganda campaign in America. The two would soon clash over control of British propaganda in the States [167, pp. 79–83]. Cull confirms that British publicity focused upon the US press corps, and American interventionists, the key aim to secure 50 old destroyers [167, p. 88]. Americans were thereafter increasingly subjected to a sophisticated, sustained and effective propaganda campaign [131; 144, ch. 10; 167; 269]. An immediate difficulty, discussed previously, was that the American press, keen to broadcast news about the developing air war, were inclined to publish German aircraft claims in the absence of useful British material. HI in Manchester reflected this issue on 11 July: ‘Irritation that papers give too much German propaganda from American sources’ [600 (11.7.1940)]. After an initially bumpy start the American press corps based in Britain was to prove increasingly vital to the propaganda war being waged in the United States, but it took time for this to develop. Wireless and newspaper correspondents provided a regular, carefully neutral, or pessimistic assessment of the air fighting, often from the front line in Dover where the world’s press congregated to watch the air fighting from Shakespeare Cliff. American newspapers, some using British-based US reporters included: Chicago Daily News, Chicago Sunday Tribute, Chicago Tribune, New York Herald Tribune, New Yorker, New York Sun, New York Times and the New York-based PM. Accounts written later by Vincent Sheean, Ed Murrow, Ben Robertson, Ralph Ingersoll amongst other US correspondents – discussed in Chapter 11 – graphically conveyed the extent to which they observed the fighting, placing themselves at personal risk [155, chs 11–17]. By August, Churchill was increasingly irritated by adverse commentary and considered banning them from areas where fighting could be observed [284, p. 132]. Many citizens were similarly displeased with American reports in mid-August. Mollie Panter-Downes, an English-born reporter working for the New Yorker recorded in her diary on 12 August, growing frustration at the American press’s willingness to accept Luftwaffe propaganda about the numbers of RAF fighters shot down. Arguing that Britain was far from defeated, she noted that even in the New York Times an article included the claim that: ‘over the island kingdom flew scores of German planes dropping tons of bombs that ripped apart English towns and farmsteads’ [70, p. 89]. Clearly irritated, she likened such output to German propaganda from Hamburg radio. Problems persisted throughout the month where HI reported several comments by residents in Reading about a lost opportunity in terms of conveying British belief in victory based upon RAF successes, to the Americans [600 (20.8.1940)]. On 31 August it was reported

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that: ‘Criticism of our propaganda abroad persists, and suggestions in American Press that we are ‘‘only hanging on by the skin of our teeth’’ are taken to mean that our propaganda there is ineffective’ [600 (31.8.1940)]. Despite this negative view, many American press reports were carefully neutral in their reporting, prefacing aircraft claims with caveats including: ‘according to figures provided by the RAF’ (or Luftwaffe). An example of the cautious approach taken by American reporters to communiqu´es was printed in the New York Times, based upon a report from 14 August, in London: Germany sent over more than 500 planes to attack shipping in the English Channel and Thames Estuary, as well as British airbases and other objectives in Southampton, the Kentish coast, Berkshire, Wiltshire, the Isle of Wight and other points northeast and southwest . . . The day’s bag of German planes shot down over and around Britain was a record it was declared . . . [203, p. 118] Two days later the Herald Tribune published on 16 August a pessimistic US Army Air Corps assessment of the RAF’s ability to withstand the onslaught with the view that the outlook was bleak for the British, but readers were reminded that such opinions were conjectural and based upon reports from staff based in Britain [203, p. 120]. Originally believed to be the only American to be killed during the Battle, Pilot Officer William Fiske died from combat wounds on 17 August. Billy Fiske was the most tangible evidence for that early US commitment, extensive media coverage afforded to his sacrifice despite the difficulties posed for the neutral US government [225, pp. 40–1, 46–8; 371, p. 11]. On 4 July 1941 a plaque was placed in St Paul’s cathedral, confirming Fiske’s idealism and sacrifice: ‘An American citizen who died that England might live’ [124, p. 281; 167, p. 90]. Cull confirms that Fiske had previously been identified as a suitable candidate for propaganda projection as an American RAF hero by the AM [167, pp. 89–90]. Holmes believes that three other US citizens died in combat, their nationalities concealed during the war to satisfy neutrality sensitivities [225, p. 40]. Arguments over ‘cricket scores’ concerning downed aircraft had developed strongly in mid-August, the focus thereafter of increasing efforts by both sides to justify the claims. Viewed from the American domestic perspective these crude ‘profit and loss’ figures were the only means of assessing relative success and failure, but were virtually meaningless unless one knew what each side had begun with, and how quickly it could replace lost aircraft and pilots. Progress was, however, gradually being made. On 20 August the Mirror confirmed that ‘U.S. praises R.A.F.’ on its front page, the same day that Churchill delivered his famous epigraph [407, p. 1]. The following day The Times reported in ‘America and Mr. Churchill’ that his speech had been read with ‘deep interest’ in America, and that despite the gloomy predictions made in previous days, US intelligence

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suggested that Germany’s air offensive would fail. Also reported was that the gross inaccuracies in German claims had been proved, with British communiqu´es deemed more trustworthy – ‘The toll of losses is now estimated at three to one in favour of the R.A.F.’ it confirmed [523, p. 4, col. c]. Along similar lines The Times reported that an article in the Herald Tribune believed that the Germans had suffered a major setback in its air offensive, where claims of Luftwaffe superiority had been revealed as inaccurate. The Tribune was disinclined to believe either British or German aircraft claims, but thought the RAF’s figures gave more reason for confidence if only because the German claims were so high [523, p. 4, col. c]. More peripheral to the Battle, the American Alice Duer Miller’s extended poem ‘The White Cliffs’ was first published at its height in America during August, and sold 300,000 copies there [167, p. 110] – it later appeared in Britain [61]. Although making no direct references to the RAF’s defence of Britain, it ‘became an archetypal work of anglophilia’ and focused attention on the nation’s plight [167, p. 110]. Many Americans were aware of the close, emotional ties between the white cliffs and the RAF’s pilots battling overhead for their homeland, and it was a version of England that many Americans preferred (e.g. Dover’s ‘whiter and cliffier cliffs’ in speaking of MGM’s 1944 film based upon the poem). By 2 September there was growing faith in Britain’s ability to defend itself, The Times reporting in an article entitled ‘Watching the Battle – U.S. belief in Britain – Exultation over air triumphs’ that Americans believed increasingly in the RAF’s qualitative superiority; German claims of aircraft successes were not believed, perhaps a reflection of the increased AM effort to satisfy US press demands for greater transparency in the confirmation or RAF claims [527, p. 4, col. d]. Ironically, all this was being played out in the media at a time when the RAF was at its lowest ebb, but despite these challenges there was little in the press to suggest how deep the RAF’s crisis was, propaganda masking the realities. Goering’s 7 September attack on London ensured that the reality matched the propaganda. Immediately relieving fighters and airfields (and diverting attention away from the RAF), the nature and thrust of the air fighting changed dramatically, the civilian population suddenly exposed as the new front line. If the previous air fighting between the RAF and Luftwaffe was deemed a glamorous clash of elites, the attack on London was perceived very differently. Projected as barbarous, brutal, vicious and criminal, British propagandists embarked on a campaign to escalate America’s direct engagement in the war. Press, newsreel, wireless and magazine coverage shifted their focus from the fighter pilots (who had enjoyed unprecedented coverage) to the civilians ‘taking it’ in their own homes. MOI propaganda films including the successful London Can Take it, newsreels and Ed Murrow’s CBS broadcasts during actual attacks against London had a significant impact upon domestic American

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audiences, entrenched opinions about neutrality shifting decisively as the Blitz was reported. Sheean noted Murrow’s skill at working within the reporting restrictions for his regular US programme broadcasts: ‘he was capable of putting forward a calm, uncoloured version of all the vast drama of the day so that it passed the British censors and the radio regulations at home’ [84, pp. 166–7]. On one level this was news reporting, but at another it was information carefully angled to elicit sympathy and support. As Sheean confirmed: ‘You could not write of these things without producing an effect upon the mind and heart of America. The mere transmission of the recorded event was enough’ [84, p. 172]. The Times on 9 September reported from America in ‘U.S. and Battle for Britain – Faith in island people’, that Britain’s endurance had led to considerable American faith in eventual victory, but perhaps more importantly for the British government, that America was mobilising increasing numbers of troops and accelerating military production [532, p. 4, col. f]. The following day it reprinted parts of an article from the Herald Tribune, which believed that the Germans had found daylight defences over London too strong, and had switched to a nighttime strategy that might yet bear fruit. It thought the RAF’s claims for day- and night-fighters was reassuring, and saw little reason to believe that Britain could not hold out [533, p. 4, col. c]. The Baltimore Sun’s brief assessment of the RAF’s fighter strength was reported in ‘Rising anger in America – London’s ordeal’, where the impact of claims, losses and moral[e] were weighed as factors in the developing air war against civilians [534, p. 4, col. c]. Following the massed attacks against London on 15 September the RAF were widely applauded for their success in shooting down so many enemy aircraft, the American public praising both the fighter pilots but also the civilian population in the front line [538, p. 4, col. d]. Mid-September was highly significant as the point at which an invasion was likely to occur, the huge attacks against London viewed by many as an attempt to soften up the population to secure a quick surrender. Following the proclaimed RAF success on 15 September, Churchill’s commentary, and clear evidence that the invasion was not imminent, American military, political and public opinion swung more positively towards Britain. The difficulty for Roosevelt was in converting this goodwill into solid support, the maturing election campaign for his bid for a third term as president in early November making it politically unwise to go too far. Despite these political difficulties throughout later September and October The Times printed more evidence of changing American perceptions. On 21 September it reported the comments made by Brigadier-General Strong, Assistant Chief of the United States War Plans Division, about his agreement with the RAF’s claims figures, that he believed were conservative; Strong had returned two days earlier from a US mission to Britain to assess the impact of the air war [542, p. 4, col. f]. Only days later his remarks were again reported in ‘Britain will win’ – U.S. observer’s verdict – ‘Magnificent R.A.F.’, in which Strong

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affirmed of the RAF’s pilots that: ‘the Germans were machine-made, while the British were highly developed individuals. ‘‘There is no place where individual ability counts as in air fighting, and the British are superior to the Germans’’ ’ he argued [543, p. 4, col. d]. His comments proved highly influential in America and convinced many that the RAF could not be beaten [2, p. 74]. The relentless British propaganda – aided by the American press corps in London – was beginning to take effect. On 24 September it was reported that a Gallup poll in America found that 52 per cent of voters in its survey now believed that the United States should ‘help England’, an increasing total month on month [544, p. 3, col. b]. The following day it was reported that the New York Times had confirmed that Roosevelt and other senior American politicians were agreed that help for Britain should be provided, the American public’s positive opinion a factor. It was affirmed that the British were holding the front line for America, with US aid sought during the following months for ‘heavy bombers, long-range flying-boats, rifles, and pilot-training facilities in the United States’ [545, p. 3, col. d]. By early October, no invasion having taken place, Germany sought to recapture the propaganda initiative by asking Russia and America to ‘take sides’ with either Britain or Germany over the morality of bombing cities such as Berlin. Germany claimed that its attacks against London – now sustained for almost a month – were in response to the RAF’s assault against their capital. The German press had expressed anger at America for accepting Britain’s claims that it was not the aggressor, and seemingly unwilling to consider the Nazi position. Both Russia and America were asked in essence to work with the ‘New Order’ in Europe, or to continue to be stuck in the past, with the Britain of yesterday [552, p. 3, col. e]. The American release in October of the March of Time newsreel, Britain’s RAF, although rather out of date for British audiences, served to affirm the key facts about Britain’s survival during the autumn and summer, confirming through film the heroic resistance of the RAF. Such American praise for the RAF was unbounded, and continued into October where several reports published in The Times affirmed positive opinions. For example, five British-based American journalists who had reported upon the air war during August and September were asked for their views as they stopped over in Lisbon on their return to America. They believed that Hitler’s air force lacked ‘petrol, lubricants, and skilled pilots’, the large air losses forcing the Luftwaffe to use novice pilots, (and less convincingly) ‘even to demand Italian collaboration’ [552, p. 3, col. c]. Sheean, who had been based in Britain, could not disguise his admiration: ‘I acquired – as we all did – a profound respect for the R.A.F. as it is in England . . . it was a weapon like the finest steel, sharp and well directed, invincible in its hour’ [84, p. 205]. As the Battle came to a close, Lord Lothian, British Ambassador in Washington on a fact-finding visit to Britain, gave a wide-ranging assessment of American opinion of the war to that point

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on 20 October, which he said was strongly behind helping Britain. In replying to a question about American views of the RAF he confirmed Churchill’s earlier tribute to the Few, of two months previously: The opinion there of the Royal Air Force is immensely high. In July, after the collapse of France, most people in America thought that England would go this autumn. They realize that that has been prevented largely by the work of the Royal Air Force. A great many air attach´es have been in England, and they have consistently given the most enthusiastic accounts of Royal Air Force efficiency and courage and of the quality of the work done. American opinion, in fact, largely coincides with what Mr. Churchill said, to the effect that never before had so few done so much for so many. [563, p. 4, col. a] Lord Lothian’s comments were reported following his address to the MOI, where he stated that after Dunkirk many Americans had expected England to fall, but that the ‘Royal Air Force had swept away this feeling of pessimism by its successes.’ He noted that US air attach´es who had observed the RAF in action ‘had expressed their belief that the British Air Force was superior in everything but numbers to the German, and that it would more than hold its own against the odds’ [565, p. 4, col. c]. Despite Britain’s propaganda effort and those of American journalists reporting the air war to their domestic audience, practical American support was not critical to British survival, but made a contribution to it [216, p. 90]. Timely, practical support can be fairly summarised as up to 11 US fighter pilots, Harvard training aircraft with which to train RAF fighter pilots, permission to manufacture 0.303 Browning machine guns and most critically, the supply of 100-octane aviation fuel. Other American combat aircraft such as the Hudson bomber, despite being operational were not significant [216, pp. 82–90]. Although American support had been modest, it is clear that the RAF’s proclaimed victory made an important contribution to a willingness on the part of the United States to become more closely involved. The Battle stimulated interest in America’s warmaking capability, and the preparedness of its fighter aircraft. Ingersoll wrote: ‘The best American fighter planes already delivered to the British are used by them either as advanced trainers – or for fighting equally obsolete Italian planes in the Middle East. That is all they are good for’ [46, p. 167]. Such views were conveyed in personal letters before the Battle began. For example, H.M. Harwood in London wrote to an American friend on 13 May soon after the German invasion of France: ‘So far as aeroplanes are concerned, you are not likely to be of much help to us . . . The difference between machines good enough to use against relatively defenceless persons and those that can hold their own in the kind of war now going on must be immense’ [95, p. 380]. American military commanders were not unaware of these issues, their aviation experts allowed to

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learn from the RAF’s experience through official visits and exchanges of secret information. The Battle’s real strategic importance for Britain was that isolationist American politicians – also influenced by the Blitz – could offer fewer sound reasons for resisting Britain’s appeals for assistance. Roosevelt’s 5 November presidential victory – providing a third term in office – opened the way for support and aid on a more substantial scale, opponents unable to deny his mandate for such action. This period was significant in laying the foundations for lendlease and other much needed materiel support. The speech made by Roosevelt on 3 September about the exchange of ‘certain over-age destroyers for British naval and air bases’, was one example, the deal finally signed on 18 November [80, p. 58]. In many respects this was the most significant American gesture to the British in 1940, its propaganda value arguably outweighing military usefulness.

Eagle Squadron As for direct engagement with combat, aside from a handful of US pilots in the RAF, despite the difficulties posed for the American government – who resisted the idea – an ‘Eagle Squadron’ was first mooted in June, the AM giving its formal approval on 2 July [225, p. 65]. Seeking to capitalise on the undoubted propaganda opportunities, over two months later three Battle-experienced American pilots were asked to form the nucleus of the first of three Eagle Squadrons – 71 Squadron began training on 19 September. The squadron was officially announced on 8 October, the American press giving considerable attention to it [211, p. 117; 225, p. 67]. In Britain The Times covered the story on 9 October in ‘U.S. squadron of the R.A.F. – Volunteers form own unit’ [556, p. 4, col. g]. An example of magazine coverage appeared in The Aeroplane on 11 October in a brief article announcing its establishment [485, p. 92], followed on 18 October again in The Aeroplane, where almost half a page was given to it [486, p. 438]; similar details appeared on 25 October and 1 November in War Illustrated [594, p. 442; 595, p. 459]. The squadron’s first combat actions were delayed until mid-April 1941 [225, p. 67]. Many operational pilots in the RAF resented the publicity the Eagle Squadron enjoyed, not least because they had yet to fly on any combat missions as a unit [211, p. 124]. Although a trifling issue, it was also the case that a unique number identified RAF squadrons, informal titles such as the ‘eagles’ resisted by the AM in the interests of anonymity (much in the manner adopted for the naming of individuals as aces). Although the original Eagle Squadron was formally ‘71 Squadron’, the media certainly made a great deal out of the pithier sounding ‘Eagle Squadron’, and this seemingly more relaxed attitude towards the Americans may have irritated some British pilots.

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The Axis: Germany and Italy Germany’s wireless audience was vast, and thanks to pre-war Nazi initiatives, by 1933 the number of listeners had reached four million, and thereafter in the region of almost 16,000,000 by 1942–1943 [204, pp. 184–6]. Despite this vast potential audience, British broadcasts to the Reich were subject to jamming, German citizens wary of listening to BBC German language broadcasts because of the ‘extraordinary radio measures’ introduced on 1 September 1939. A year later on 16 October, The Times discussed such issues in: ‘Nazi fear of B.B.C. broadcasts – A hunt for listeners’ [559, p. 4, col. f]. These censorship measures assumed that Britain was able to reach German citizens in the first place, and that they were willing to listen to a seemingly defeated foe; something Joubert doubted [238, p. 195]. The Times carried an example of the broadcasting challenge faced by Britain on 19 September in ‘Propaganda in enemy countries’, when Lord Addison asked in the House of Lords about the steps that could be taken to enhance British propaganda both at home, but also Germany. It was commented in reply that the BBC had few transmitters that could easily reach Germany, making widespread propaganda more difficult to project. Germany, it was argued, was much better at getting its information out, Britain seemingly hindered by Treasury parsimony [540, p. 9, col. d]. By September the BBC was transmitting 17 and a half hours of German language output each week, or the equivalent of two and a half hours each day [133, p. 485]. In its European Service this was identical to the French output, representing the largest BBC effort other than English broadcasts. Despite the lack of an early resolution, Nazi propaganda to domestic, neutral and enemy audiences sought to affirm that victory was only a matter of time. The Irishman William Joyce – Lord Haw Haw – regularly broadcast in English from Hamburg, attracting an initially wide British audience in the face of disparaged MOI-controlled BBC reportage [85, pp. 223–5; 174, ch. 4]. As the fighting intensified Germany argued that its attacks on the RAF were reaping considerable rewards, heavy losses of fighters and bombers being inflicted. Germany played upon fears of further mass devastation wrought by its bombers to isolate Britain’s ruling class from its citizenry [174, ch. 3]. Britain’s response was to mount her own black and white propaganda war against Germany, in which outright defiance, rejection of aircraft loss claims, counter claims by the RAF and broad details about RAF bomber attacks on German targets were regular features. By early September, two developments were prominent in the news: the first was Germany’s failure to invade (despite bellicose threats to do so); and second, the increasing RAF attacks against Berlin and other German targets. German propagandists were keen to project the invasion threat as very real, and likely to occur in mid-September, but knew that a failure to do so would

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amount to a serious setback for their standing with neutral countries. Both issues featured in the news on a regular basis in Europe and America. For example, on 4 September The Times carried an article entitled ‘Keeping news from the neutrals – Goebbels’s way’, that appeared to confirm a growing view about German disquiet over slow progress. Its New York correspondent noted the lack of news from Germany, speculating that the neutral press were not being given information about RAF raids over Germany. Also reported was the increasing emphasis of German propagandists to project Britain as ‘a tough customer’ (as distinct from the effete, ‘shopkeeper’ image previously suggested), German citizens warned not to expect an easy victory. This was a striking contrast to the jubilant views expressed in June, but despite a more sober assessment some German authorities only gave Britain about two weeks [529, p. 3, col. b]. With the Blitz against London beginning to develop, by 10 September the Germans – now facing aerial stalemate – sought to solicit sympathy from America for what it described as retaliatory attacks against British cities following the RAF’s attacks against Berlin. Given Britain’s focus upon aerial attacks against its citizens and the immense propaganda value this gained in America, a Nazi campaign along the same lines was inevitable [533, p. 4, col. f]. On 11 September a report from the German frontier argued for a sense of moral equivalence in the bombing of London, German anger over British protestations cited [534, p. 3, col. a]. Goebbels’ diary recorded his approach to dealing with the increasingly thorny British question, his 3 October entry noting in respect of Luftwaffe attacks against London that there was a misguided sense of optimism in the capital, which in part was influencing America. His response was to order a press and radio ‘counter-campaign’ with a view to destroying British illusions [127, p. 5]. Perhaps reflecting Goebbels’ propagandists’ failure to dominate the news through his counter-campaign, they sought to manage the propaganda war by controlling foreign news correspondents. On 22 October in ‘Germans hold back the news – Drastic restriction’, The Times confirmed that no foreign news releases were allowed to go out from Germany between 11 P.M. and 6 A.M. to ensure that German propagandists could prepare a counter-report to British propaganda about attacks against Germany. The ban covered reports of air activity over Britain, again a tacit acknowledgement of the AM’s success in gaining the upper hand with its management of the propaganda war – it also applied to German and foreign news organisations [564, p. 4, col. g]. Whilst Germany was undoubtedly Britain’s most dangerous adversary, Italy, its ally, was far less so. Widely despised for Mussolini’s belated ‘stabbing in the back’ of France as she was on the point of collapse, a Punch cartoon showed Mussolini as a hyena, scavenging on the body-strewn battlefield of France’s defeat – ‘The hour of the hyena’ [580, p. iii]. Of most concern to Britain were

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Italian intentions in the Mediterranean and the likely impact of defeat upon British interests. It therefore made sense to maintain a level of propaganda output to Italy, but this presented many of the challenges posed by Germany’s situation. Wireless was the most effective means of reaching mass audiences, but this depended upon effective transmission and an ability to bypass jamming activity. It was the case that only 995,000 wireless sets were known to be available in 1938, representing a modest Italian audience even if numbers had grown by 1940 [133, p. 737]. Despite this the BBC were transmitting 14 hours of Italian language output each week by September, second in scale only to Germany and France as foreign language broadcasts [133, p. 485]. It was the Axis’s lack of progress in its air assault against Britain that began to tell against it on the international stage. Italy had little choice but to follow Hitler’s lead, and whilst there were doubts about RAF claims for numbers of Luftwaffe aircraft shot down, it remained the case that Germany had not attempted to invade Britain. This indifferent outcome reflected a month of solid air-fighting in mid-August that according to the Luftwaffe had been hugely in their favour [174, p. 70]. This lack of follow-through was a clear signal about Germany’s nervousness; a failed invasion would be immensely damaging to Hitler’s prestige. More importantly, knowledgeable observers could see that Germany had lost a critical battle with the British, and one that might result in eventual defeat [133, p. 292; 352, pp. 58–9]. Capturing the mood in October, William Shirer an American correspondent based in Berlin, reflected on the lack of an invasion attempt, Hitler’s lack of decision a perhaps fatal error whose significance might yet prove to be a strategic turning point [85, p. 232].

Persuading the world In propaganda terms the wireless was the key means of British mass projection to all parts of the globe by 1940, and certainly where British-produced newspapers were unavailable or banned. Placing radio in context, MacKenzie confirmed that by 1937 the number of wirelesses internationally stood at 69,700,000, and in Europe (not including the USSR) there were 31,444,462 sets [54, p. 341]. Given this enormous potential audience by September 1938 the BBC was broadcasting propaganda in Arabic, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, French and German [54, p. 346]. MacKenzie, writing about such propaganda output, was very clear that it paid to remember important neutral countries, and aside from the content itself, there was much to be said for the broadcasting by powerful countries to small nations, in their own language [54, p. 349]. Britain’s mature wireless and press media was well placed to project propaganda to domestic audiences whether in the Forces or on the home front. To an extent the same applied to Britain’s Dominions, where media networks ensured that propaganda was

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effectively disseminated, and that only approved material was made available. Control over the BBC’s World Service output ensured that bulletins carried the news as provided by the AM in its communiqu´es, so that constituencies in all parts of the Empire heard the same daily accounts of RAF successes. Even before the war, MacKenzie attested that the BBC’s short-wave station at Daventry had developed a service capable of binding the British Empire, whilst also broadcasting in Arabic to counter Italian and Muslim propaganda from Rome and Radio Bari [54, p. 341]. Neutral countries represented vast, diverse and challenging constituencies during 1940. Cole details Britain’s propaganda campaigns towards Finland, Hungary, Greece, Portugal, Romania, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland and Yugoslavia during 1940 [157, ch. 2]. At the onset of the Battle a number of these ‘free neutrals’ were reeling from recent European events, believing themselves either to be directly threatened or at least vulnerable to the repercussions of conflict between neighbours. It was not only Britain that sought to win over key neutral countries; the reach of German propaganda was powerful. A Briton living in neutral Geneva confirmed in a letter dated 28 August to Naomi Royde-Smith in Winchester, that she had no access to English papers, being solely dependent on the wireless and a bulletin from the British Legation in Berne. She continued, I expect you have seen a great deal of the air battles now that they have reached such a pitch . . . Our Air Force seems to be marvellous and even in neutral circles, in spite of the German communiqu´es which are given great prominence in the press, people seem to be accepting the fact that Hitler is not getting it all his own way. [82, p. 157] A week into the Luftwaffe’s increased effort following Adler Tag, Nazi propaganda was keen to project confirmation to Spain and Japan – Germany’s main propaganda targets according to The Times – to the effect that Britain was almost defeated [522, p. 3, col. c]. Another pressing concern for Britain in June was Ireland’s neutrality. Following a German invasion of Eire, the German use of Irish ports for attacks on shipping in the Atlantic was concerning, as was the risk of invasion from the west on an undefended British coastline. It was therefore advantageous that the BBC’s Home Service output could be received in Dublin and more widely, a vehicle for projecting RAF successes [133, p. 315]. Picture Post devoted an entire issue to Ireland in late July, perhaps reflecting such concerns [441, pp. 9–31]. Of Europe as a whole, Cole confirms that by the end of 1940 every neutral country found itself in a precarious position because of Nazi domination. Despite this, British success during the Battle and its resulting propaganda war had ensured that many nations who had resisted pressure to openly support the Axis were

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more pro-British, even if this was not openly declared [157, p. 59]. Projected by wireless, Britain’s success in repulsing the Luftwaffe’s onslaught was a key factor in this transformation, the RAF’s victory making a significant dent in perceptions of Nazi invulnerability. Countries under the ‘yoke’ of Nazi occupation including France, Belgium, the Channel Islands, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, Holland, Luxembourg, Norway and Poland, aside from the shock of defeat and occupation, faced the prospect of many years of subjugation under the Nazis. Where it was possible to project propaganda to oppressed nations, usually by banned BBC radio, there was an important morale advantage to be gained [157, ch. 2]. BBC broadcasts in French by September were at 17 and a half hours per week, whilst those in Dutch were at eight and three-quarter hours per week. At that time there was no service to Belgium or Luxembourg, transmissions to Denmark, Norway, Czechoslovakia and Poland varying between just under two to seven hours per week [133, p. 485]. German attempts to jam BBC broadcasts meant that the reception of bulletins was patchy, an incomplete picture of relative aircraft losses hard to gauge, as was overall progress. Churchill used the BBC to broadcast to the oppressed, the RAF an important propaganda asset in what must have seemed from afar an otherwise dismal – if perhaps improving – prospect for Britain. In ‘Mr. Churchill to the Czechs – ‘‘Be of good cheer’’ ’ on 1 October in The Times, the premier shrewdly linked Britain’s struggle with that of Czechoslovakia, and much more than a struggle between two countries: ‘The battle which we in Britain are fighting to-day is not only our battle. It is also your battle, and, indeed, the battle of all nations who prefer liberty to a soulless serfdom.’ He continued: ‘Here in Britain we have welcomed with pride and gratitude your soldiers and airmen who have come by daring escapes to take part with everincreasing success in that battle for Britain which is also the battle for CzechoSlovakia’ [550, p. 3, col. e]. In a broadcast to the French people on 21 October and again reported upon in The Times, Churchill reminded his listeners that Britain was not only fighting for its own freedom. Whilst mention of the RAF was slight – ‘Our Air Force has more than held its own’ – there was no denying their importance in obstructing Hitler’s invasion plans. What must also have pleased Churchill was the wide reportage it received in America where the US press praised the speech for its breadth, resolution and conviction that Britain (and France) would eventually prevail [565. p. 4, col. g]. It was again shrewd propaganda. Despite British efforts to improve propaganda reach, even by late October the situation had not eased with broadcasts still being jammed and calls made from a correspondent who had been in France, for a sustained programme of propaganda that would benefit oppressed and disillusioned citizens in Vichy France [561, p. 5, col. f]. Even so, Belgians were reported as increasingly positive about the progress of the fighting: in ‘Belgium impressed by R.A.F. successes – Enemy’s

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vain denials’, citizens were reported as disbelieving German propaganda about Britain. RAF attacks against ports and other targets confirmed that Britain was not yet defeated [552, p. 3, col. a]. The good news also reached France where Neville Lytton, a British expatriate artist living in Vichy France, exulted that as news of huge RAF successes against the Germans were broadcast thousands of previously demoralised French citizens were roused to believe in ultimate victory [53, pp. 24–5]. Also commenting upon P´etain’s mistakes on being called to power in Vichy France, he affirmed that Britain’s victory during the Battle was attributable to guts, a quality that P´etain had long ceased to possess [53, pp. 60–1]. Apparent successes by British propagandists did not prevent concerns being expressed in Reading during August to HI, about a perceived failure to capitalise on air successes especially in respect of neutral countries, and notably those that posed a threat. For example, reported one survey, ‘it is felt that the deciding factor in Japan’s attitude towards this country will be whether they consider Germany can defeat us in a short space of time’ [600 (20.8.1940)]; and, at the end of August anxiety was reported ‘about our propaganda in the near and Far East, as they [educated people in Reading] feel that the attitude of Greece, Turkey and Japan depends very much on what we can put across in the direction of making them believe in our ultimate victory’ [600 (31.8.1940)]. It is arguable that the news ‘did get through’, as recounted previously in respect of foreign tributes to the fighter pilots’ successes.

Winning the propaganda war Irrespective of the difficulties posed in precisely gauging propaganda success, as measured by foreign media commentary and home front responses to M-O and HI surveys, diary entries, letters and other ephemera, Fighter Command’s international impact was at one extreme both immense and positive, and at the other, surprise and frustration that Britain had survived. The Few’s contribution undeniable, the propaganda war about them was central to this success, in essence providing enormous AM reach to constituencies at all points of the globe. Between July and October the RAF’s claims may have been hotly disputed and debated in neutral and enemy countries, but there was no denying that a powerful propaganda machine was in operation and that Britain was surviving. It gave reason to reflect on strategic plans and possible alliances, and to delay any decisions until a German invasion of Britain was attempted, or seasonal weather made it foolhardy. Most critically, for those anxious to hear some good news in Britain, her Empire and those countries occupied by the Nazis, the RAF’s successes provided and sustained a valuable boost for morale. It also cast serious doubt on Douhet’s persuasive interwar doctrine, clearly denting the myth of air power. The archaeologist Jacquetta Hawkes, writing soon after the

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Battle, captured the moment precisely in her view that during 1940 it seemed inevitable that a German victory was certain. However, and in confirmation of the experiences of previous invaders’ failed attempts, it was undeniable that even the aeroplane as the latest and most potent weapon of war had its limits when confronted by the English Channel [41, p. 11]. That, and RAF Fighter Command, one might add.

10 The R.A.F. in Action

Cinema, propaganda and the RAF Black & white films as vehicles for propaganda had been exploited for a number of years prior to the onset of the Second World War, both for ideological and political purposes, the simultaneous projection of recorded speech a momentous development during the late 1920s. Whilst official British organisations might baulk at using feature films as a mode for propaganda projection, there was no denying the impact of cumulative exposure to sustained messages, techniques practiced during the interwar period in the Soviet Union, Germany and Italy [306]. A major advantage of film was its ability to project key messages whilst appearing only to be concerned with popular entertainment. MacKenzie was clear about its advantages where a key attraction was the concealment of the propaganda message, patriotism and fervour capable of being roused through the medium of stirring entertainment [54, pp. 328–9]. In 1938 there were more than 5000 cinemas in Great Britain, with new ones opening regularly. Attendance at cinemas was a major attraction even before the war began, where by 1936 admissions to Britain’s cinemas ran to 963.3 million a year, equalling 22 visits for each man, woman and child [54, p. 329]. According to Taylor, from November 1939 some 4000 British cinemas showed an average of 480 feature films each year, many of these American [339, p. 180]. He cites a figure of 19 million cinema attendances per week in 1939, which rose to 30 million by 1945 [339, p. 180]. The sheer number of cinemas and their immense popularity in Britain made it inevitable that as the war unfolded – albeit slowly at first – officials would exploit its merits. Even so, the effects might take time to achieve and in a campaign with a relatively short duration such as the Battle’s 16 weeks, it was difficult to achieve significant cumulative results. In this context newsreels were more efficient, if not universally appreciated. Rogerson confirmed the challenges of using feature films in that it was far easier to produce a propaganda film than it was to secure an interested audience 251

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for it [79, pp. 105–6]. Critically for propagandists, cinema audiences were mostly comprised of millions of relatively poorly educated working-class citizens aged between 15 and 35 [339, p. 180], and therefore more susceptible to consistent propaganda; the very people upon whom the war’s outcome might depend. Sustaining their morale and a willingness to endure the hardships would prove crucial, many seeking relief from the war through entertaining films, with Hollywood’s more glamorous productions being popular in alleviating the drab, daily grind of life in wartime Britain. Despite such propaganda opportunities the wartime film industry faced numerous challenges, many directly imposed by government: Taylor recounts stringent celluloid nitrate film stock controls, the requisitioning of film studios, call-up of essential film staff, increased taxes on films and cinema ticket price rises as wartime constraints [339, p. 180]. As for content, RAF and AM resistance during the earlier war years was baffling, as at times was the rigid and excessive bureaucracy imposed through censorship and hesitant RAF co-operation. It was not only the Battle that suffered from a lack of professional filmic projection during the Second World War, as films about RAF fighter pilots generally were rare. The reasons for a lack of RAF engagement with or interest in contributing to films about the Few were varied. It is possible that the RAF believed – unofficially – that the fighter boys enjoyed more than enough attention as it was, without the need to yet further aggravate relations between Fighter and Bomber Command. Operational security concerns were another justification, though the extent of censorship involved would probably have negated any risks of providing useful information to the Luftwaffe. An instinctive resistance to propaganda was yet another explanation, a view widely held amongst its senior officers who deemed it ‘unsoldierly and distasteful’ to project the RAF’s activities through film, as confirmed in May 1941 by Air Vice-Marshal Peck, concerned with publicity [256, p. 34]. Fighter Command’s exceptionally high British media profile during the Battle may also have resulted in lukewarm official interest for a feature film, the extensive press, newsreel, MOI ‘shorts’, wireless and magazine coverage deemed sufficient (perhaps to the point of saturation). It was a very visible campaign, either through dogfights or the many aircraft wrecks littering the south-east, these results achieved by stretched fighter squadrons. Mackenzie suggests that the RAF had little time or energy for making propaganda films, and moreover, that it was hard to predict the strategic context at that time, feature films being potentially obsolete in terms of their propaganda aims [256, p. 32]. Whilst there is merit in both arguments, it is noteworthy that official support – if not always useful access to stations – was provided to British and American newsreel companies, and that many squadrons being rested in Groups away from the main fighting could have contributed to film work without impeding their operational readiness and might have enjoyed this novel distraction.

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The practical challenges for film-makers working with the RAF aside, the AM’s DPR Branch PR1 was directly responsible for its positive public profile throughout the early war years, a fact confirmed by M-O reports during the autumn of 1941 that the RAF enjoyed the highest popularity with the public, principally through its film coverage [256, pp. 61–2]. Of the key films discussed below, almost all were released commercially after the autumn of 1941, and would not therefore have had any bearing upon public perceptions of the ‘Royal Advertising Force’ at that time [256, p. 62]. Newsreel coverage similarly had made its impact a year earlier and would not realistically account for this continued popularity. Where official support was granted following an exhaustive process of scrutiny – detailed previously – film-makers might secure access to an RAF squadron, and its individual aircraft, these filmed on the ground, taking off, landing and in aerial manoeuvres – the latter sometimes representing German fighters. As occurred in the newsreels, pilots might be given fleeting, scripted speaking parts, but these were often delivered self-consciously. Ground crews servicing aircraft were also filmed, but the attention was usually on rearming, refuelling and helping pilots during scrambles, rather than the men themselves. Such films were different in tone to the newsreels, even where they sought to be semi-documentary in nature, as for example in the material filmed for The First of the Few. In part perhaps because of the challenges of securing new RAF film material, most made use of stock footage provided by the RAF and AM, often of obsolete or inappropriate aircraft. Films might incorporate actuality footage from RAF fighters’ gun-cameras, or that filmed from the ground. Their quality reflects these origins, but they would still have been surprising to wartime audiences and when carefully edited, gave an impression of air combat. For those aircraft spotters in the know however, it would be amusing to see RAF Spitfires, Hurricanes, Blenheims, Wellesleys, Wellingtons and sometimes mid1930s biplanes portrayed as the attacking Luftwaffe, little attempt being made to disguise their roundels and other markings. Authenticity in these wartime film portrayals of the Few’s combats was patchy, but to the AM’s credit they did arrange for aircraft fuselages to be made available so that cockpit close-ups (usually Spitfires) could be secured. Numerous constraints restricted actuality aerial filming. It was very difficult to secure useful footage during air combats, as this required a cameraman to be able to focus wholly on filming, whilst someone else piloted the aircraft. The RAF was most unlikely to provide a suitable aircraft: a slow-moving twin-engined bomber being highly vulnerable to attack by an enemy fighter might impede RAF fighter operations. The fighter variant of the Bristol Blenheim would be a risky aircraft to fly in combat with fighters, the RAF unwilling to risk aircraft, crew and cameramen. Camera aircraft would have to fly ‘straight and level’, a highly dangerous activity. The costs, availability and limitations of cameras, film and

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technology would also place constraints upon the quality of secured footage. The difficulty in effectively portraying aerial combat scenes was aggravated by the limitations of studio special effects, and an adequate understanding of the dynamics of a dogfight. Most cinema audiences judged combat sequences within the context of earlier and other films, seemingly tolerant of filmmakers’ efforts to portray reasonably authentic filmic footage. The Lion Has Wings Threats posed by massed bomber formations caused international concern during the 1930s, films including Things to Come (1936), presaging devastating attacks against cities. Such films had an enormous impact upon civilian populations [289, pp. 105–7]. The Gap (1937) addressed aspects of Britain’s air defences, except in its sharp attack on London that ‘got through’. The need for volunteers to work in the air defence system was the real message, recruitment greatly enhanced following its release [323*, pp. 3–4]. The uncompleted documentary The Shadow of the Wing (1937) was similarly aimed at attracting RAF recruits, a growing problem by October 1938. Mackenzie notes that The Warning (1939) followed a similar air defence theme to that in The Gap, and was considered a grim if effective film in propaganda terms [256, p. 23]. The Conquest of the Air by film-maker Alexander Korda was originally begun in 1935, and completed in 1938 having been resurrected, but was not released. The film charted the development of aviation, the context of war one element of a wider treatment. An edited version appeared in 1940 that included commentary about the rearming RAF’s preparedness for war [289, p. 104]. Korda’s The Lion Has Wings (released 30 October 1939, 75 minutes), for London Film Productions, similarly portrayed the RAF’s capabilities to a mass cinema audience, projecting rather unsophisticated propaganda in the first such film of the war. This status has made it the focus of considerable academic study, but it lacks convincing content in several respects [110, pp. 21–28; 150, pp. 59–65; 196*, pp. 59–91; 289, pp. 127–8; 256, pp. 28–33; 271, pp. 16–19; 309, ch. 15; 323]. Accused of being three disparate documentaries pieced together to achieve a normal feature film’s length, it gave that impression with its three core themes, extensive use of newsreel and later RAF footage [110, p. 27]. The themes included a pre-war documentary assessment of the road to war, an RAF bomber raid on the Kiel Canal and Britain’s air defences repelling a German attack. Given the ongoing bitterness about Chamberlain’s recent policy of Nazi appeasement, the film could be described as being misleadingly complacent in its assessment of RAF air power. Its interest here is in its projection of the RAF’s air defence system in operation, and notably the use of Spitfires. With hindsight it is easy to dismiss its poorly crafted and fanciful portrayal, but for audiences in 1939 it gave a surprising amount of detail – especially the RAF’s defensive command and control

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system. This was also interesting to Luftwaffe intelligence analysts; the propaganda value to be gained from confirming the existence of such a sophisticated system arguably outweighed security considerations. The film benefited from considerable RAF support, Korda able to view installations and include serving officers, aircrew and ground staff in the film. Richard Addinsell wrote the soundtrack, later better known for his Warsaw Concerto. Newsreel commentator E.V.H. Emmett provided the film’s narration, beginning with peaceful, bucolic scenes of churches, grazing sheep and landscapes – Lowell Thomas of Movietonews narrated the American release. Following an affirmation that Britain’s history and inheritance was worth fighting for, the threat posed by Nazi expansionism was confirmed. Britain’s war preparations were projected, beginning with the RAF’s prowess and strength following the First World War, and into the interwar period. Footage of the Hendon pageant from c.1937 revealed an RAF reliant upon obsolescent, biplane aircraft. In reassurance, the film cut briskly to factory production of ‘streamlined modernity’ in the form of Hurricane fighters (the only point at which they appear in the film), and Wellington bombers, ‘quality’ a key factor in their construction. War was declared, Chamberlain’s broadcast listened to by British citizens, including (in a clumsy segue) two partners of RAF officers. As his broadcast ended, Wing Commander Richardson (Ralph Richardson) and Bobby – also a pilot in the RAF – joined Mrs Richardson (Merle Oberon) and June, respectively. Confirming that the RAF has ‘never been better prepared’ (a very surprising claim in September 1939), the two men left for their airfield. Of interest here is the sequence that affirmed the strength and capability of the RAF’s defences. Sandbagged tents and fighter pilots at readiness at an airfield’s dispersal – probably Hornchurch – one tent adorned with ‘Tiger Den’, the makeshift dispersal office. A Spitfire followed by Fairey Battles was shown, the commentary (unconvincingly in the latter case) arguing that these are ‘fast machines, fighters, interceptors, pursuit planes’. White-overalled pilots standing in a group were addressed, followed with close-ups of several faces. These (emerging as god-like) men were presented in highly favourable terms: ‘There is no lack of men for the machines. Men who will prove themselves worthy successors to the Great War aces, Leefe-Robinson and Ball and Bishop.’ During the next sequence Luftwaffe officers ordered an attack on Britain. In response RAF Fighter Command HQ’s underground operations room was shown, Emmett clarifying its context: Somewhere in Britain, its existence and communications completely protected from the enemy, is an organisation known as Fighter Command. It is in direct communication with the Air Ministry and all defence units. In supreme control is the Air Officer Commanding in Chief. He is the brain, the whole of the rest of the organisation are his nerves, his limbs, his fingers.

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Views of a large plotting table confirmed a command and control system, RAF plotters arrayed around it, senior officers also awaiting action. One warned the Northern, Midland and Southern Groups by telephone to be standing by for action, these representing 10, 11, 12 and 13 Groups. Spitfires at dispersal in fading light, all being readied for action, proclaimed the RAF’s readiness. Jarringly, a brief historical sketch of the 1588 defeat of the Spanish Armada followed (the material derived from the 1937 feature film Fire over England), the as yet unanointed Few as the New Elizabethans aligned with the fate of Britain’s last would-be invaders; this faded as massed (RAF) aircraft emerged, representing the attacking Luftwaffe. Fighter Command’s response reassured viewers that a resolute and effective system was in place (and that the bomber will not, in fact, ‘get through’). Richardson, now in his sector operations room was informed of the raid; iconic views of white-overalled pilots snapping shut their Spitfire cockpit canopies in the manner of knights’ visors followed. Six Spitfires scrambled as ‘A’ Flight, stock footage denoting the Luftwaffe’s incoming raid as the Spitfires closed the gap with the enemy – conveyed with formation footage, often of three Spitfires in a ‘vic’, or close-ups of pilots in their cockpits. The enemy then sighted ‘A’ Flight dived at them, Bobby shouting loudly into his ‘R/T’ to signify the attack: ‘Ho!’ and ‘Number one attack. Go! All right you lousy Germans! All right, I’m going to get you now!’ Some effective aerial manoeuvres were included, one German aircraft shot down. Bobby then contacted ground control (Richardson): ‘Cornflower Red calling Station Control, Cornflower Red calling Station Control. Brought down two bandits. Brought down two bandits. Remainder proceeding east. May I continue action? Over to you, over.’ Given permission to carry on, the focus shifted to a new threat. A new raid identified, ‘B’ Flight Spitfires went to intercept the enemy, but ground defences broke it up. ‘A’ Flight’s Spitfires having returned to base were readied in anticipation confirmed the narrator: ‘B’ Flight has taken over in the air. ‘A’ Flight returns to the aerodrome to refuel and restock with ammunition. Ground staff are waiting and they race out to the machines that have come back for second breath. In the ghostly shrouded blackness of the aerodrome everything goes with clockwork smoothness as if they were working in broad daylight. (And after a brief interlude involving Bobby and Richardson) More gallons of petrol go into the fighters’ tanks. Fuel for the engines. Food for the guns. The Flight Commander took a crack from one of the bomber’s guns, but it only tore the fuselage and he’s ready for duty again when he’s wanted. Two bullet holes in one Spitfire confirmed that this was a (quite) dangerous business (and even more so when flying a Spitfire as a night-fighter, for which

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it – and the Hurricane – were found to be unsuitable). A third German raid was picked up, the focus shifting to the operations room – the ensuing air battle heard only over its loudspeaker. This time, the Germans improbably fled when confronted with a balloon barrage, the RAF responding quickly. The narrator tracked the pursuit: Yes, they’re on the run, but a new squadron of Spitfires leaves the drome and hurtles up into the inky sky. They’re racing out towards the coast, like black bullets, while every mile is followed on the chart, closing the distance between the fighters in pursuit and the bombers heading for home. With the combat concluded, the RAF fighters reported ‘no casualties’ having dispatched four Germans (in stark contrast to the interwar propaganda and anxieties concerning the Luftwaffe’s growing might). The film concluded with reassuring scenes of homely domesticity, Richardson going out with his wife and resting under a tree. After a discussion that both prefigured and anticipated ‘why we fight’ only months later in June and July 1940 (truth, beauty, fair play and kindness), Richardson nodded off. His wife, staring up at the sky, saw massed RAF aircraft overhead. The film concluded rousingly enough: ‘We fight because we must . . . We can learn from the motto of the Royal Air Force, ‘‘Per ardua ad astra’’ – through ordeal to the stars, through endeavour to triumph, through trial to victory.’ The RAF’s badge overlay the closing sequence, almost as though the emblem itself was a sufficiently protective shield against Nazi air power. Although reactions to the film were mixed, it was an important success and earned significant profits. Harry Watt though, was dismissive, describing it as a muddled jumble, and reinforced by the fact that Vincent Sheean had written to him from Germany to say that it was being run as a comedy in Berlin! [347, p. 143]. William Shirer, the American correspondent with CBS, was based in Berlin and recorded in his diary on 10 June that the German Propaganda Ministry had shown foreign correspondents the film. Shirer thought it very bad, even allowing for the fact that it had been released in autumn of the previous year [85, p. 177]. Writing soon after its release the editorial staff of The Aeroplane also thought it a ‘shocking travesty’, ‘sickeningly emotional’ and ‘unbelievably inaccurate’ [489, p. 502]. A key concern was that the RAF’s air power had been projected as an unstoppable force, the Luftwaffe incompetent and brutish. Any military aviation expert in 1939 would have seen the folly of such a viewpoint, and it is doubtful whether many RAF pilots and aircrews were so complacent about their prospects. The film drew many comments from viewers, recorded in detail by M-O observers who noted reactions both during and after the film. These ranged from ‘Tripe’ [309, p. 321], ‘Utter tripe’ and ‘Pretty awful’, to ‘Magnificent’ and ‘A bloody fine picture’ [309, p. 322]. It was recognised by many as British

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propaganda, respondents mixed in their views. One suggested, ‘It was too much propaganda’; another, ‘Rotten, too much propaganda’ [309, p. 318]. More moderate views included: ‘Propaganda, but quite an enjoyable evening in its way’; ‘Quite good, the propaganda was not too heavy’; and ‘It was quite good but more for propaganda than amusement’ [309, p. 318]. High praise was less common: ‘It was an awfully good picture and it acts as a very good piece of propaganda’ [309, p. 318]. Irony was also noted: ‘Always the best as usual, we British’ [309, p. 319]. Several were reminded of the earlier 1937 film, The Gap [309, p. 320], the film’s derivation from and similarity to newsreel footage drawing mixed reactions: ‘A bit too newsreel wasn’t it?’ [309, p. 320]; and, ‘A lot of news reels put together of course’ [309, p. 320]. One believed – accurately – that ‘It rather underestimated Germany’ [309, p. 319], another that ‘it emphasises the bravery of the RAF’ [309, p. 321]. Four comments summarised its informational impact: ‘It showed the workings of how things were done in England’; ‘It was fine to see how it all works. So many don’t know’; ‘there was a lot held back, they only gave you a glimpse of what happened’ and ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t believe half of it’ [309, p. 321]. Although there were many points that deserved criticism, three themes shone through that would point the way towards subsequent treatments of RAF Fighter Command as the Battle developed. The first was the almost meteoric elevation of the Spitfire as a streamlined scimitar, against which the Luftwaffe had little chance (yet in 1939 there were many more Hurricanes); the second was the (rather early) heroicisation of the pilots themselves, men who had yet to prove their mettle in the crucible of war. A third, much less glamorous aspect, was the RAF’s command and control system that for the interested observer, confirmed beyond doubt that fighter assets would be deployed carefully and to best effect. All three themes were to be reinforced to varying degrees in subsequent feature films, newsreels and MOI shorts, and in this sense it is hard to deny that the template for the Few’s subsequent filmic glory lay here at the start of the Phoney War, a full nine months before the Battle began. Dangerous Moonlight Despite extensive newsreel and modest MOI short coverage of the Few, it was to be almost a year after the Battle that a feature film would seek to capture the Few’s earlier glory. Several British films used the air battles as a vehicle within a more broadly based plot, with notable support from the RAF. RKO British Productions’ Dangerous Moonlight (September 1941, 94 minutes) was such a film, a 14-minute sequence as its epilogue focusing upon the fighting [109, p. 211; 150, pp. 197–8; 271, pp. 172–3, 217]. It may have been short, but its resonance was important in defining the cult of the (identified, if only as a fictional) warriorhero, and perceptions of the Battle during wartime. This featured world-famous Polish concert pianist, Stefan Radetsky (Anton Walbrook) – additionally a fighter

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pilot, who defended Poland against the Germans. He met American reporter Carole (Sally Gray), escaped to her homeland, they married and then – having given up his successful career there – subsequently flew Spitfires for the RAF, much against his wife’s wishes. It was the romance with the American, Polish culture, heroism and a stirring soundtrack that were the main themes. Composer Richard Addinsell wrote the immensely popular film score, The Warsaw Concerto. It was also a tribute to the many Poles and Czechs fighting for Britain, but the focus upon war was relatively slight within the crucible of a love story played out in difficult circumstances, duty ultimately prevailing (a theme developed in the American ‘Eagle Squadron’ films, below). A text panel confirmed that the RAF had assisted with the production, followed by ‘London, November 1940’. Radetzky, in a London hospital, sat at a piano from which – his memory lost – he was unable to entice music. Carole was with him and sought to help as two doctors in an office discussed his case, both exasperated by the atonal and jarring piano sounds. Progressively the pianist was able to string chord sequences together and began playing his masterpiece, The Warsaw Concerto. This introduced the filmic ‘flashback’ device as he recalled the beginning of the war and Germany’s invasion of Poland, progressively returning to the present in November. The Battle sequence (14 minutes) began with ‘England, August 1940’, as Radetzky a junior RAF officer pilot wearing ‘Poland’ shoulder-flashes landed a Spitfire. Seemingly the first time he had flown one, he discussed its newly discovered virtues with old friend Carroll, a fighter pilot with the squadron. In the officers’ Mess a harmonious, young and confident multinational fighter force was presented (all fighting for Britain). With pilots in flying kit at readiness playing cards, Radetzky and Carroll heatedly discussed Carole whom Radetzky had not contacted since their row. With Carroll killed during the combat that followed, Radetzky sorted out Carroll’s personal effects, his senior officer warning about the dangers of air combat when pilots had ‘other things on their mind’ (disagreements over women), and the problems posed for squadron cohesion (duty coming first). A second scramble included Radetzky, the Luftwaffe raid stock footage of massed German fighters and bombers, with some He111 material. The ensuing air battle included actuality footage of blazing aircraft, gun-camera film, machine-gun special effects ‘flashes’ and non-combat material of a Spitfire squadron in various formations. During the combat Radetzky shot down two aircraft, but during his third attack on a bomber he ran out of ammunition. In an improbable manoeuvre he climbed steeply and at high speed, arched over, and then dived at the bomber. A ‘flash-bang!’ cartoon-like effect confirmed the impact, a blazing aircraft signifying the result. His memory lost as a result of the collision, Radetzky’s face appeared superimposed as he played the piano in hospital. He was then reunited with Carol, and the film ended.

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Authenticity in aerial combat scenes made it ‘worth seeing’ suggested one wartime critic [109, p. 211], a claim less easy to sustain with hindsight. Whether RAF fighter pilots would have recognised the accuracy of combat portrayals is open to question, but this has to be set within the context of what was achievable during 1941 both cinematically and within the straitjacket of RAF censorship. Perhaps this did not matter: Dangerous Moonlight was immensely popular – distracting romances during wartime always appealing, especially when partly focused upon a victory. Filmgoers ranked it quite highly in an M-O survey of their six favourite films from November 1942 to 1943, despite its having been released a year before that [309, p. 220]. The musical score, Walbrook’s acting and the plot attracted praise, but there was little mention of the Battle as an event in itself other than a comment by Len England, an M-O observer serving in the Forces, who wrote in September 1941 that ‘glamourised [sic] accounts of our gallant airmen in films such as Dangerous Moonlight’ were well received [309, p. 219]. A civil servant from Morecambe who ranked the film as her first choice, and had seen the film twice, thought it captured the difficulties posed for artists concerning duty in wartime. Also, in addition to the music and Walbrook’s acting, ‘the technique of starting at the end of the story was fairly new. It seemed to me then to be a clever and well constructed film. And the impression remains although the novelty has gone’ [309, p. 271]. A public health official in Birmingham who ranked the film second, confirmed: ‘A very moving film in which ‘‘Warsaw Concerto’’ predominates’ [309, p. 233]. Another respondent confirmed that ‘My fourth film is included not so much for the actual visual aspect; but for its beautiful background music’ [309, p. 232]; a teacher from Watford ranked the film fifth ‘for its lovely music’ [309, p. 259], and a Doncaster clerk ‘Liked music, general atmosphere & acting’ [309, p. 232]. It was as successful with audiences as Target for Tonight about a Bomber Command raid, despite their differing styles and subjects [150, p. 198]. It could claim parity with The First of the Few and The Way to the Stars in its success at projecting aspects of the Battle. Crucially, the RAF had provided significant access to its aircraft and crews, footage of these used to reinforce a sense of authenticity for cinema audiences. Although a direct focus upon the Battle was a small part of the film, as propaganda it was well worth the effort made, reminding viewers of the heroic achievements of Fighter Command only a year earlier. The cult of the Spitfire was again reinforced, the RAF giving access to these, rather than a Hurricane squadron for aerial sequences. The First of the Few Given the Spitfire’s photogenic celebrity and seductive streamlined prowess, it was inevitable that a film should focus wholly upon its development and combat efficacy, but the early signs were not auspicious. For example, soon

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after the Battle’s conclusion plans were announced for a film entitled Spitfire, but there was little apparent interest from the public, RAF support slow to emerge. Following this, a second film about Mitchell and the Spitfire was announced in the trade press in December, but it took considerable time for the filming and production to be completed [256, p. 36]. This resulted in The First of the Few (August 1942, 124 minutes) by British Aviation Pictures [109, pp. 211–12; 110, pp. 64–6; 150, p. 197; 256, pp. 36–8; 289, pp. 129–30], with William Walton’s celebrated soundtrack of which his Prelude and Fugue (The Spitfire) compositions gained him much acclaim. The second wartime film featuring influential coverage of the Battle, it again unashamedly propagandised the Few’s heroism. A broad if at times inaccurate account of R.J. Mitchell’s conception and design of his masterpiece, the Vickers-Supermarine Spitfire, its vital role during the Battle was affirmed. No comparable film was made about the Hurricane, its chunkier stable mate. In total, the combat coverage lasted for some 12.5 minutes, divided almost equally between the film’s introductory sequence, and the film’s epilogue. RAF assistance was acknowledged, pilots and Spitfires used in the film, followed with a documentary-style introduction to the war situation. In the first sequence focusing upon the Few (6 minutes’ duration), ‘Zero Day September 15th, 1940’ appeared as an overlay, with RAF Ringford’s operations room. RAF personnel worked at plotting numerous, large (overwhelming) enemy formations and controlling fighter squadrons. Massed Luftwaffe formations headed for England, bomber attacks developing against various sites including the operations room. Hunter Squadron Spitfires landed at Ringford airfield following combat, after which they discussed their successes in light-hearted banter. The station CO Wing Commander Geoffrey Crisp (David Niven) appeared as Hunter Squadron’s CO did a ‘wheels-up’ landing in a Spitfire, the latter grittily affirming in response to his injured ankle that: ‘What I want is an aeroplane, not an ambulance. There are hundreds of them up there, and probably more coming.’ Narratively, the plot returned to the operations room where the pressure from attacking enemy formations continued unabated. Having just returned from combat Hunter Squadron mustered at its dispersal point, seated in chairs outside and watched as another Spitfire squadron scrambled. Crisp joined them, about ten of the pilots sharing the dialogue in clipped, well-spoken voices:

Crisp: ‘Well, I hear you chaps had quite a good bag this afternoon?’ ‘Yes, six sir.’ Crisp: ‘Six? Good, that makes twenty so far.’ ‘Quite a picnic sir.’ Crisp: ‘I think for the Boche too . . .’ (Followed by discussion of a missing pilot)

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As a formation of Spitfires flew over, all admired them: ‘Spitfires chaps, just in case you haven’t seen one.’ Pilot-artist: ‘Can’t see a Spit in the air without getting a kick out of it.’ ‘Glad you like it old boy.’ Pilot-artist: ‘Can’t help it, after all, it’s my lion.’ ‘Whatever are you talking about? I thought you were a ruddy artist?’ Pilot-artist: ‘That’s exactly what I mean . . . ’ ‘I agree with old Rembrandt, it is an artistic job.’ Crisp: ‘That’s not surprising, it was designed by an artist.’ ‘Do you mean Mitchell, sir?’ Crisp: ‘Yes, R.J.Mitchell.’ ‘He was a wizard.’ Crisp: ‘You’re right. He was a wizard.’ ‘He’s a marvellous looking bloke – he lives in Inverness.’ ‘Oh no he doesn’t, he’s in Canada, MI5.’ ‘Absolute tripe, he works at Vickers.’ ‘But surely Mitchell’s dead isn’t he?’ ‘Anyway, he made the Spit, invented the whole thing in two hours . . . ’ ‘What?’ ‘Two hours! At a golf club, didn’t he sir?’ Crisp: ‘No, I’m afraid he didn’t. It wasn’t as easy as that.’ A Spitfire improbably performing aerobatics during a moment of pressure for the RAF, led crisp to confirm that: ‘Yes. A whole lot of things had to happen before that miracle came to life.’ Crisp, a friend of Mitchell’s and a former test pilot was able to correct various misconceptions via the simple filmic device of returning to Mitchell’s (Leslie Howard) early career and narrating the story chronologically to include his Supermarine designs, the Schneider Trophy races, early development of the Spitfire and its acceptance by the RAF. After that lengthy sequence had been explored throughout much of the film, the viewer was returned to the ‘present’. In its concluding section (6.5 minutes), the plot returned to Hunter Squadron as it was scrambled via tannoy, a fairly leisurely response made to imminent enemy attacks. Once airborne a dialogue was played out between the ground controller and Hunter Squadron, additionally joined by Crisp standing in for their wounded CO. The dialogue captured a sense of calm professionalism as the pilots sought out the enemy, guided by the ground controller: Crisp (joining the formation): ‘Hello Bunny, hello Bunny. Crisp here. Where shall I go?’ Bunny: ‘Come in number two on me. (Pause) Hello Flapper Control. Hunter Leader calling. Have you any information? Over.’

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Flapper Control (ground controller): ‘Hello Hunter Leader, Hunter Leader. Bandits approaching Beachy from south-east, Angels one-fife [five]. Over.’ ‘OK Flapper Control, your message received and understood. (Pause) Hello Flapper Control, how many are there? How many bandits are there?’ ‘About a hundred, maybe more.’ ‘Only one hundred, too bad. (Pause) Hello Flapper Control, I’m now over Beachy Head, Angels twenty. Have you any more information? Over.’ ‘Hello Hunter Leader, Hunter Leader. Flapper Control answering. Bandits are now about three to four miles south of Beachy. You should see ’em any minute; they’re down sun of you. (Pause) Hello Hunter Leader, Hunter Leader. Flapper Control calling. Can you see ’em, can you see them?’ ‘No, can’t see a thing.’ ‘You should be right above ’em, right above ’em.’ ‘OK Flapper, I see ’em. Tally Ho. Tally Ho! (Pause) There they are Hunter aircraft. Keep in and keep a good lookout. Here we go . . . ’ Me109 pilot: ‘Achtung Spitfeuer!’ Aerial footage of Spitfires in squadron and ‘vic’ formations was interspersed with some actuality film of aircraft going down in flames, as the dogfights developed. A captured He111 bomber was used extensively in this element of the film, in addition to other stock footage, such as gun-camera film, clips of Me109s and other German aircraft in formation. Crisp was seen at various times in a studio close-up of an actual Spitfire cockpit, speaking to himself and other pilots. During the dogfight the RAF were portrayed as highly capable and efficient, the Germans being bested in the dogfighting. The squadron’s leader was killed and avenged by Crisp, who, still in flight, and having opened his cockpit canopy, stared up at the sky and said: ‘Mitch. They can’t take the Spitfires, Mitch. They can’t take ’em.’ The film ended with a lone Spitfire flying off towards the distant horizon against a dramatic cloud base. Walton’s music added pathos, and other Spitfires followed in the same direction; Churchill’s 20 August epigraph appeared as a text overlay. Highly successful with British audiences, it was the biggest British-made boxoffice hit of 1942, second only to the American Mrs Miniver [109, p. 211]. An M-O survey in November 1943 asked viewers to say what their six favourite films were during the previous year: 104 women and 116 men replied. The women’s choices included The First of the Few at nine votes and the men’s at ten votes, several respondents placing it in first or second place. Respectively, out of a list of nine most favourite films, it was ranked eighth, with 19 votes [309, p. 220]. Respondents’ comments were positive and applauded its gripping, straightforward, unsentimental approach, Howard’s acting and the occasional humour. Nothing was said directly about the RAF and the Few except the comments by an Edinburgh student that it was of ‘historic interest. Photos of flying

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and aeroplanes superb’ [309, p. 269]. An RAF accounts clerk based in Orkney thought it a sensitive, sympathetic film that successfully conveyed Mitchell’s commitment despite the impact upon his health [309, p. 223]. An Army Captain in Wallington thought it ‘A clear simple dramatisation of something topical and important. Accurate, restrained performance by Howard’ [309, pp. 233–4], whilst a Manchester chemist echoed that view: ‘Wonderfully restrained acting of Leslie Howard. Careful combination of fact and fiction throughout the narrative of the film and the sequence is not choppy. Excellent pictures of flight, and a touch of humour’ [309, p. 234]. Another viewer, (surprisingly) confused by the focus of the film, said ‘Informative if Mitchell bomber did come into existence like that’ [309, p. 262]. An Andover resident thought it ‘is just the type of film I hope to see after the war, just light without heroics showing how men can be truly great without bullying others just seeing their duty and doing it in spite of every obstacle’ [309, p. 248]. Not all were able to see it, an Llangollen woman on ‘home duties’ saying: ‘It’s very rare that I can go but should like to see . . . First of the Few? (the one with Leslie Mitchell and Walton’s music, Spitfire Fugue)’ [309, p. 264]. It was inevitably retrospective in nature, the war having moved on considerably – and on all fronts – by that time. It was also released in America, a film poster for the US version entitled Spitfire confirmed: ‘The story of the plane that busted the Blitz! Spitfire!’ There were some moving scenes in the film, Mitchell’s apparent sacrificial gesture in working himself to death an exhortation to the primacy of duty over personal considerations, and the cheerful portrayals of fighter pilots unbowed in the defence of English airspace. Although Dangerous Moonlight was the first British feature film to incorporate the Battle, The First of the Few placed it in the context of Britain’s technological prowess in developing the Spitfire [184, ch. 4]. The Battle as propagandised in the film was a reminder of what Britain could achieve, but it might also be argued that the pilots seen went some way to perpetuating the sense of former public schoolboys as Britain’s saviours. As noted above, it also further eclipsed the Hurricane’s vital air defence role, the RAF appearing content – in common with the Spitfire Funds – to reinforce the Spitfire as Britain’s saviour during the Battle.

The Way to the Stars Although begun in 1944, thus making it strictly a wartime production, The Way to the Stars (June 1945, 109 minutes) was retrospective in tone when released only a month after the European war had ended. In essence it was the first war film to be released in peacetime, rather than the last British wartime production [110, pp. 279–8; 150, pp. 198–200; 256, p. 55; 271, pp. 149–50; 289, p. 149]. It was authentic in its use of aircraft, airfield and personnel, restrained emotions – RAF, USAF and civilian – mirroring Britain’s experience of some six long

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years of war. The Battle element occurred at the beginning, very briefly portraying the role of Fighter Command and in contrast to earlier films, this time flying Hurricanes. Although a slight part of the film it is also valuable within the context of post-war propaganda, projecting something of the difficult relations between Fighter and Bomber Command during 1940. Principally about a bomber squadron that suffers heavy losses in attacks against invasion barge concentrations, it is striking that the RAF portrayed was that which fought during 1940, rather than in the later strategic offensives [256, p. 55]. A large part of the film focused upon the later American contribution to the Allied offensive. The RAF and USAF were acknowledged for their support in the making of the film, their aircraft lending authenticity. Views of RAF Halpenny Field introduced the film – actually Fighter Command’s Catterick airfield in North Yorkshire – the setting introduced with the year ‘1940’; beyond sat dispersed Blenheim bombers. Pilot Officer Penrose (John Mills) disembarked from an Anson as a newly arrived novice pilot. Directed to a bedroom in the officers’ Mess, to be shared with Flight Lieutenant Archdale, Penrose was introduced to the hazards of being on an operational front-line station as nearby Marsden airfield was attacked. In a fast-moving sequence the RAF’s defensive role during the Battle was affirmed when three Hurricanes took off to intercept the enemy (no Spitfires to be seen). An air raid ensued, buildings blown up and ground crews running for shelter. The Hurricanes by now airborne only a few moments after the first bombs fell intercepted the attackers. Penrose, watching them with Archdale, asked where the Hurricanes were from and was told that they were attached to Halpenny Field for local defence. Penrose commented: ‘Fat chance, three against thirty.’ ‘Oh, I don’t know’, replied Archdale (the Few’s prowess by then well established). Following the attack Penrose was introduced to Squadron Leader Carter. As Carter and Penrose perused the damage a Hurricane returned and executed a very low pass and ‘victory roll’. Watching that Carter said: ‘Line shoot. These fighter types you know, top button undone, victory rolls, bad show I think.’ Both watched as a second Hurricane arrived, both then flying low over the airfield. Carter enquired: ‘That’s two of them, can you see the third?’ Its not being visible, Carter confirmed: ‘Mind you, I’m not saying they’re not doing a good job at the moment.’ That concluded the Battle element, the remainder concerned with the bomber’s war.

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Despite the European war’s conclusion before its release, this had no bearing upon reactions, the film enjoying large critical and commercial success [256, p. 55]. Its realistic content and effective acting were praised, Chapman believing that its success as a ‘character study’ outweighed its impact as a war film [150, p. 200]. Often labelled as the ‘definitive’ wartime film about the RAF, in some respects the lack of combat sequences added to the sense of authenticity, previous attempts to portray air fighting often a poorly edited and unconvincing mix of actuality footage, crude special effects, inaccurate models and forced acting. A review of the film suggested that so many claims had been made for the Battle’s importance that it was difficult to approach it with a fresh perspective, but the film’s strength was that it allowed this with the benefit of historical hindsight [110, p. 296]. Despite this positive impact, it is striking that the fighter pilots’ presence in the film amounted to very brief footage of three Hurricanes heading into and then returning from combat, with a brief comment about their prowess from a bomber pilot. Although it was a rather grudging tribute to the ‘fighter boys’ with its slighting comments about ‘line-shooting’ and ‘top buttons undone’, there was also affection and respect for what had been achieved almost five years before.

America and the Few Films touching upon aspects of the air war in 1940–1941 offered a superb commercial vehicle for American filmmakers. Three feature films focused upon American pilots, their genesis attributable to the extensive press coverage of the nascent 71 Squadron. Interestingly, none strayed into the Battle itself, almost self-consciously skirting that hallowed ground, perhaps deemed the preserve of British film companies. Inclusion here reflects their propaganda value as a trio of films, the European war so remote an event that many Americans did not differentiate between the summer of 1940 and 1941. The films confirmed the Americans’ cultural differences when settling down into the undemonstrative, reserved but co-operative culture of an RAF squadron. A carefree, initially irresponsible attitude towards women was projected, providing audiences with romantic interest as they digested the more overt propaganda. These film representations of ‘Yank’ fliers also captured their self-indulgent immaturity, a stance progressively eroded, as the need for a more mature outlook in support of a higher cause became pressing [211, p. 117]. What American audiences thought of their young fighter pilots being thus portrayed is not hard to imagine. International Squadron As becomes clear as the film develops, International Squadron (August 1941, 87 minutes) was filmed in America without British or RAF assistance. Warner

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Brothers had originally planned Eagle Squadron as the title, but changed this to International Squadron because Twentieth Century Fox copyrighted the film title. The two companies also disagreed about Warner’s mirroring of elements in Fox’s A Yank in the RAF [211, p. 121]. Warner’s title confirms an international assortment of pilots flying for the RAF, the multinational nature of the pilots established early on (despite many sounding distinctly American). The film began by paying tribute to the RAF as an overlay to its wings, and also misquoted Churchill’s epigraph: ‘Never before in the field of human conflict have so many, owed so much, to so few.’ Jimmy Grant, an American test pilot (Ronald Reagan), demonstrated a new ‘Spitfire’ (actually a Travel Air Mystery) an order for which was improbably placed by the RAF. Next, in the manner of Tim Baker below, Grant ferried a bomber to England, now at war. An RAF operations room helped to guide Grant to Britain, senior RAF officers portrayed as stuffy, humourless and cold. Initially resistant, Grant decided to join the RAF on ‘16 June 1941’ after seeing a child killed during a bombing raid (that included actual footage of He111s). Beginning as a Sergeant and being commissioned, he flew as a fighter pilot after training but having arrived at 242 Squadron selfishly put his romantic interests before those of the RAF. Grant’s being tasked with guarding the rear of the formation during his first mission was ignored to attack the enemy (this sequence included brief actuality footage of Spitfires, He111s and Stukas and studio models). An unsuspecting pilot unprotected at the rear of the formation was shot down and killed, Grant’s self-justificatory view that ‘it’s every man for himself’ (in aerial combat and womanising) rejected. Later he failed to turn up for a mission, a fellow-pilot taking his place killed during combat. Grant deemed again to have been directly responsible by his peers and the dead pilot’s wife, he went on a dangerous solo mission and having shot down several enemy aircraft, died a dramatic death (thus atoning for his errors). Squadron colleagues on learning the news drank to his death. Authenticity was lacking as American aircraft sought (distractingly) to replicate Spitfires. Despite this film posters exploited the RAF’s recent successes: one showed six 264 Squadron Defiants (not featured at all), the original image appearing in 29 August’s Flight and The R.A.F. in Action [431, p. 162; 101, pl. 8]. Ironically, on 29 August the squadron had been retired to Kirton-in-Lindsay because of severe losses – they were no match for German fighters (Plate 3) [227, p. 228]. There was a close plot similarity with A Yank in the RAF and it also bore comparison with Cagney’s Ceiling Zero (1935) [120, p. 114]. It amounted to a boisterous and at times silly film that did not take itself too seriously, with romance and womanising principal ingredients. Despite protestations by Fox concerning A Yank in the RAF, International Squadron was released just two months before the former was screened, and did well commercially. The film made $1,502,000 internationally, with production costs of $384,000 [211, p. 121].

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A Yank in the RAF First outlined in October as the Battle concluded, A Yank in the RAF (September 1941, 89 minutes) [211, p. 117] is at times an irreverent assessment of Britain’s plight during mid-1940. The aim was to portray Britain’s resolve and determination via a comedic vehicle in which the audience came to see the moral certainty and justice of British resistance, but also the social and cultural differences between the two nations. The completed film closely followed the original script, but there was no mention of the Eagle Squadron. Released in the same month as the British Dangerous Moonlight, these were the first two feature films to portray Battle-related aerial combat sequences with authentic RAF aircraft. The AM, following approval of the script, had agreed to assist Twentieth Century Fox with a British film-crew given access to an operational squadron [256, pp. 48–9]. It had initially been unhappy with one aspect of the script, the death in combat of Tim Baker (Tyrone Power) deemed undesirable in a propaganda vehicle viewed by Americans. This was changed and he survived the Dunkirk air battle sequence, other deaths and injuries kept to a minimum [211, p. 120]. Focusing upon the period leading up to and including Dunkirk, although the film does not cover the Battle’s official period, direct RAF assistance, the use of Spitfires and the combat scenes were significant in projecting Fighter Command during mid-1940. It began with an RAF wings badge as an overlay to clouds, the RAF March Past briskly played. The RAF was thanked for their assistance, before American pilot Tim Baker, a happy-go-lucky womaniser, was offered a job piloting a Hudson across the Atlantic. In London he bumped into his old flame Carol (Betty Grable). Baker joined the RAF following her coolness and accusation that he was selfish and lacking any sense of duty, after which their romance was rekindled. Despite never having flown in combat Pilot Officer Baker was dismissive of the RAF’s attempts to train him, believing that his experience was sufficient to fly Spitfires. Thereafter Baker bridled as a Hudson co-pilot to aristocratic RAF Squadron Leader John Morley, a love triangle developing between the two pilots and Carol. Dunkirk provided an air battle sequence (9 minutes) and coda, of relevance to the forthcoming Battle. The film’s tone became serious, a wireless operator at an RAF fighter station receiving information about squadrons returning from battle, and their casualty figures. A senior RAF officer talked on the telephone: ‘325,000 men at Dunkirk’, and over-dramatically: ‘we must put every available man into action to wrest control of the air’. Spitfires landed and were rearmed for the next sortie, using authentic footage. An IO debriefed Irvin-jacketed fighter pilots, with oxygen-mask smudged-faces. Three replacement Spitfires arriving for 32 Squadron were refuelled and made ready for combat, Baker a new pilot (despite seemingly never having flown a Spitfire). 32 Squadron scrambled in battle formation, en route for the Dunkirk beaches. Covered in smoke and

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explosions, these were under attack from Stuka dive-bombers. Fighter support was demanded via radio, a soldier sighting aircraft in the distance shouting ever louder: ‘Look sir, they’re coming. Spitfires, Spitfires, SPITFIRES!’ During the ensuing air combat pilots shouted ‘Tally Ho!’ as they peeled away into action. The latter dogfighting focused mostly on Baker attacking several Me109 fighters in which he avenged the deaths of two fellow airmen. Baker had by this time transcended his self-interest, replacing it with a sombre sense of duty and commitment. Baker – having been shot down – was reunited with Carol (the unreliable American, nascent fighter pilot, winning the girl from the dependable, upper-class English bomber pilot and leader). Yank in the RAF did extremely well, being ranked as 1941’s fourth most popular film, and in one film journal, February 1942’s second most popular film. Earnings in Britain and America were $2,500,000 [211, p. 122]. Norman Longmate affirms that it was the only real success in Britain’s cinemas, the main interest the RAF rather than Baker [253, p. 409]. Despite this, the AM were not impressed and thereafter were much more reluctant to provide unfettered access to RAF squadrons and personnel [256, p. 49]. Curiously, the film made few references to Nazi Germany, clues to the RAF’s adversary being only the crosses and swastikas on infrequently seen Luftwaffe aircraft. As propaganda it was a valuable insight into British resolve, class traditions and – despite the crude studio mock-ups – the Spitfire’s prowess as an air superiority fighter. Eagle Squadron A Universal film, Eagle Squadron (July 1942, 109 minutes), was based upon Forester’s short, fictitious account first published in Cosmopolitan [194, pp. 71–104]. The novel centred on American pilots flying Spitfires in ‘143rd Squadron’ from March 1941 [194, p. 72], where it originally sought to convey the Battle through the eyes of the Eagle Squadron’s pilots (despite not having fought as a unit) [167, p. 181]. Its production background revealed much about official attitudes to films in 1941, Harry Watt asked to write and direct the film as a documentary [347, p. 154]. Despite initial resistance the AM worked with Watt and allowed access to 71 Squadron, filming taking place in late 1941, but many problems beset the filming including serious combat losses amongst the pilots themselves [347, pp. 155–6]. In anticipation of Watt’s withdrawal from the documentary the AM – irritated by Universal Films’ decision to rework the plot as a feature film – withdrew its support [167, p. 181; 211, p. 124]. The rewritten film was produced at Universal Studios in America, some of Watt’s material used, and also MOI shorts’ footage reluctantly provided by the British [211, p. 225]. The reworked film began in documentary style with fourteen 71 Squadron pilots in a group, Quentin Reynolds narrating [167, p. 181; 211, pp. 123–4].

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He began solemnly in a tribute: ‘These boys knew what we are learning now. They knew that the security of our country must depend upon our dominating and controlling the air.’ Next, the AM, MOI, RAF and Eagle Squadron were thanked for their co-operation. The revised plot – a muddled mix between partial-documentary and movie – centred on Chuck Brewer (Robert Stack). Cooperation and teamwork became increasingly emphasised over individualism as fellow American volunteers engaged in air battles, some being killed. A separate strand focused upon the Americans’ difficulties in understanding British reserve, and the collective ‘stiff upper lip’ when faced with death and loss. Romance was provided by the American airmen’s attempts to woo British women, these proving to have the same courage as the men fighting. It was a sometimes-laboured combat film with a range of RAF footage included of squadron-strength Spitfires, scenes of rearming and refuelling, and brief snatches of Luftwaffe and other aerial combat footage. Watt’s Front Line short footage of the Spitfire crashing into the sea was again used to simulate a Luftwaffe aircraft; the scramble sequence from A Yank in the RAF also featured. Despite these, much of the focus was upon a ground-based plot created in the studio. Action scenes included a dogfight between British and Luftwaffe fighters over the Channel that used actuality footage (but not in the sense of massed attacks seen during the Battle), the air-sea rescue of a downed pilot (using material from an MOI short), brief Spitfire material from Dangerous Moonlight, a bombed hospital and a highly improbable commando raid to capture a new fighter, the ‘Leopard’ (almost a euphemism for the ‘Butcher Bird’, the Focke Wolf FW190). Thereafter, at an award ceremony Brewer earned a medal for bravery, and the film concluded with an actor possibly portraying King George VI saying to him: ‘I hope that someday your country will realize how grateful England is to you men of the Eagle Squadron.’ Misquoting Churchill he continued: ‘It has been said of the Royal Air Force ‘‘that never in history has the world owed so much to so few’’. You have been among those glorious few’. Continuing with an affirmation of the allied nature of Britain and America’s fight the award ceremony was interrupted by a massed air attack, Eagle Squadron scrambled to intercept. As they flew off their Spitfires gradually transformed into four-engined bombers, a list of German cities confirming their destinations for the future, ending with ‘Berlin’ [211, p. 126]. Eagle Squadrons’ real pilots were unimpressed with the film, all shocked by what they saw as a very inferior effort and their sense of betrayal by the filmmakers [225, p. 114; 167, p. 182]. However, the film engendered positive projections of America’s war contribution to Britain’s cause before Pearl Harbor [289, p. 131]. It was certainly more serious and thoughtful than the two earlier Eagle Squadron films and given the difficulties of portraying air combat, was not inferior to British filmic attempts to convey dogfights. It did well commercially where after a successful run in America it went on to achieve

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significant re-release engagements [175, p. 104]. Glancy reports a total profit of over $1,000,000 [211, p. 127]. A conflict of ideas between RAF sensibilities and commercial opportunism was pronounced in these films. Its film-makers, perhaps conscious of the modest support extended to Britain during the Battle itself, were keen to suggest that American citizens had played a part in the air war. Whether or not the AM and the RAF’s pilots agreed, the trio of films projected an image of Americans voluntarily flying and dying for Britain. Kenneth Short believes that in addition to Dangerous Moonlight, all three films led to the progressive mythologising of the RAF’s fighter pilots [323*, p. 114]. In so doing they acknowledged the achievement of the RAF and were anxious not to suggest that a handful of ‘Yank flyboys’ were saving Britain. British audiences were more content to lose themselves in the romantic twists and turns, and modulated projections of (RAF) valour. If International Squadron and A Yank in the RAF went some way to preparing American audiences for the war that was about to engulf them only a few months later, Eagle Squadron confirmed that it would be a long and difficult struggle. Mrs Miniver Not immediately of obvious relevance to the Battle, Mrs Miniver (June 1942, 134 minutes) had its genesis in the 1939 novel of the same name. MGM Studios began filming during late 1941 with modest support from the MOI, in reading early drafts [167, p. 182; 211, p. 146]. Work on the script had begun during the Battle in October, various permutations developed until September 1941 [211, p. 146]. It was a straightforward matter to extend the original story to embrace the Battle, wherein, centred upon Mrs Miniver (Greer Garson) and her family, they were initially aligned with complacent appeasement [211, p. 146]. Early attempts by the MOI to achieve a level of authenticity by filming in British locations were rejected by MGM, the film instead being made substantially in its American studio. Production work on the film was completed in early May 1942, the film released in America in June, and in Britain a few weeks later. Narratively, the film early established the Minivers as well off and more concerned with materialism than looming war clouds. Oxford undergraduate Vin Miniver’s (Richard Ney) romance with Carol Beldon (Teresa Wright), the daughter of Lady Beldon was developing as war began. Vin joined the RAF as a pilot and with war now well underway, his parents were shocked to learn that Vin with his newly won ‘wings’ had transferred to Belham, the nearby fighter station. Replying to his father’s concern (a lamb to the slaughter?) he said, ‘Well, you know, things are moving pretty fast out there and they cut short the course.’ That night, Vin’s marriage proposal to Carol was accepted, but delight was interrupted by Vin’s having to report for duty. His parents saw Vin in one of five Spitfires heading into action over Dunkirk (but no action was shown). Later,

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with Vin and Carol now married the young bride frankly discussed her husband’s prospects as a fighter pilot with her mother-in-law: ‘I’m not afraid to face the truth. He may die. He may be killed, any day, any hour.’ Later, the annual rose competition was interrupted: ‘enemy planes over the coast, hundreds of them; like as not they’ll go after the airfield again’. In response Vin drove to Belham, his mother and Carol also in the car. Men ran from a dispersal hut in flying kit (towards unseen aircraft), one saying: ‘Jerries over London in hundreds, looks like a big show.’ Brief footage was used of a Spitfire scramble, as filmed for A Yank in the RAF. Later, Mrs Miniver and Carol tried to drive home during the blackout, stopping to await the passing of an air battle overhead (crude studio models and mock-ups) in which Carol was killed. The film cut to a memorial service in the damaged Belham Church where the vicar read from Psalm 91, and delivered a stirring address: ‘This is the people’s war, it is our war. We are the fighters. Fight it, then. Fight it with all that is in us.’ As they sang, closure was provided by formations of RAF fighters glimpsed through a hole in the roof, determinedly heading for battle (and victory; the village’s link with the fighting provided by Vin as one of them, and of the Few) – ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ provided a rousing finale, the music by Edward Elgar and the words, A.C. Benson. Mrs Miniver was the most successful film shown in Britain during wartime, attracting audiences of 10,200,000. In America it earned seven Academy Awards, some 33,000,000 Americans having probably seen it by March 1943 [211, p. 154]. Its gross earnings were the highest ever for MGM: $5,358,000 in America, and $3,520,000 in other countries [211, p. 154]. Its propaganda value was affirmed in a Gallup survey that revealed the extent to which it had influenced a more pro-British attitude amongst American viewers: 86.7 per cent of those who had watched the film held to this view, whilst the figure stood at 59.2 per cent for those who had not [167, p. 183]. In Britain its success – although not universal – was doubtless because of its positive portrayal of the British during a period of severe hardship, but also perhaps in its signposting of the eroding pre-war class barriers. Film critics in Britain were mixed in their responses, many deploring the crass sentimentality engendered by its characters and plot. Propagandists too were divided about its merits, some deploring its distorting projection of a rigid class-system and its lack of realism in showing Britain as it really was [211, pp. 155–6]. In the M-O survey in November 1943 48 women and 69 men voted for various films during the previous year. The women’s choices included Mrs Miniver at 17 votes and men’s at nine votes. Respectively, out of a total list of nine most favourite films, it came fourth with 26 votes [309, p. 220]. No comments were made about the RAF’s coverage. A Morecambe civil servant, ranking the film fifth out of six said of it: ‘At the time I saw it there had not been such a spate of war films and it was interesting to view the blitz – or rather the way people lived

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through it – as a whole, and from the standpoint of a spectator’ [309, p. 271]. The strongest criticism came from a university lecturer in Aberystwyth who nevertheless included it in his favourite films: ‘interesting photography but the hidden propaganda just damned impertinence’ [309, p. 245]. A Dewsbury shop assistant captured the issues well: ‘very sentimental and untrue to English life and yet it touched the spot’ [309, p. 270]. These aspects aside, the RAF’s role was projected positively, brief glimpses of Spitfires out of all proportion to their filmic presence.

The Battle of Britain An American documentary The Battle of Britain (April 1943, 54 minutes) was the fourth information film in a series of seven, under the Why We Fight umbrella directed by Hollywood’s Frank Capra, then an army officer. The Oscar-winning series was commissioned in early 1942 by the United States Army to familiarise American troops with the reasons for the war, the principles being fought for and the powerful enemy they would shortly encounter. Capra’s Signal Corps Special Services Film Unit provided the vehicle for the series, and in the case of The Battle of Britain, a relationship was established with the MOI’s Film Division. The fruits of this are evident in the range of footage derived from MOI shorts, and other films in which they had been involved [109, pp. 210–11]; Calder confirms that the British Information Services in New York provided some 35 British propaganda films to Capra [144, p. 249]. Written by the Englishman Eric Knight, it is not dissimilar in tone to the March of Time’s, Britain’s RAF (1940), with some footage from this used. Short confirms that Korda’s ridiculed The Lion Has Wings was significant in two regards: first, as an ‘unacknowledged model’ for Capra’s series as a whole, but also because several segments of the film were used in The Battle of Britain [323*, p. 114]. Considerable background coverage via images and narration brought the viewer up to date with the weeks leading up to the Battle, including animated maps, details of Hitler’s conquests, Dunkirk and the need to defeat the RAF prior to an invasion. Britain’s home front and military preparedness were considered, these woefully inadequate. A text panel stating ‘August 8, 1940 – The Battle for Britain is on’, preceded a large approaching air raid (various stock footage), after which Channel convoys were bombed. A scramble bell was rung at an airfield dispersal and Spitfires took off. The narrator confirmed: ‘German fighters waited overhead for the defending planes of the R – A – F, (with exaggerated emphasis), to appear. They didn’t have long to wait.’ The battle joined, mixed footage was used. ‘The RAF came – facing odds of six, eight, ten to one – dove in, shouting the old hunting cry Tally-ho!’ and slightly later, ‘Phase one of the Nazi plan called for the RAF to be knocked out of the air.’ After a pause: ‘The men of the RAF hadn’t read the Nazi plan.’ Confirming success and echoing

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the 1940 ‘cricket scores’: ‘In the first four days, the RAF knocked 182 German planes out of the sky.’ Massed air attacks were ranged against coastal towns, but ‘battling the Spitfires and Hurricanes in the air, wasn’t panning out, so Goering switched his main attack to the fighter airfields: Dover, Deal, Hawkinge.’ An animated map delineated the coast to the south-east and south. ‘In the first ten days of the Battle of Britain Goering launched twenty six major attacks to get command of the air . . . and lost 697 aircraft. The British lost 153.’ The narrator continued: ‘and sixty British pilots baled out’. Images of crashed aircraft and enemy POWs were embellished with: ‘The pace was too hot’, ‘something was going haywire – the Nazis had to call time out’. Next were images of Hitler and Goering in conference: ‘So, on August thirtieth, he ordered all-out attacks on inland aerodromes and industrial centres’, one aim being to attack fighter production. ‘And he adopted new tactics too. More fighters and fewer bombers – or maybe he had fewer bombers to send.’ Ground defences featured, followed by an RAF operations room the narrator briskly describing the RAF’s command and control system: ‘a quick flash from the control station to the fighter station, and pilots were on their way to meet the enemy when he was still over the Channel’. More focus upon the air battles confirmed that: ‘Day after day, out of sight and almost out of sound to the watchers on the cliffs four, five and six miles above, the battles raged over the Dover area.’ Footage from the MOI’s Fighter Pilot was used to suggest aerial combats here. Next, at an RAF airfield an IO (Freddy) asked a Spitfire pilot (Johnny) just returned from combat, in a scene familiar from the newsreels: ‘Any claims Johnny?’ ‘A 109 destroyed, Freddy, yes.’ ‘Good show.’ In a separate sequence first used in The Story of an Air Communiqu´e another junior officer pilot – Wick – was seen climbing out of a Spitfire, the dialogue edited slightly from the original. Damage in the form of a briefly glimpsed large cannon-hole (edited in from Fighter Pilot, but not originally used in Air Communiqu´e) was noted, the point again to confirm how dangerous the air battles were. The narration continued: ‘Between August twenty-fifth and September fifth, thirty-five major attacks were launched’ and ‘They cost the Germans 562 planes, while the British lost only 219 planes – and saved 132 pilots.’ The focus shifted to the London Blitz and Hitler’s hopes that attacking civilians could end the war. ‘September 15th 1940’ (text overlay) was followed by ‘Goering sent the Luftwaffe in one of its greatest attacks.’ Extensive footage of fighters and bombers was shown ascending to form up, confirmed with ‘500 German bombers and Messerschmitt fighters roared over the English coast.’ The sequence showed

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observers, plotting in an operations room, and Spitfires going up in formations. Viewers were told: ‘The British met the challenge by throwing in everything they had. An historic three-dimensional battle took place, inside an area sixty miles long, thirty-eight broad, and from five to six miles high. 200 individual dogfights took place within the first thirty minutes of the raid.’ Reaching a conclusion, the narrator confirmed: ‘The Battle of Britain was won, but not by Hitler. He had lost 2375 German planes and their crews.’ With more footage of downed aircraft and the home front he then asked: ‘Why did he lose? This was a new kind of war, and the RAF were the men who could fight it.’ (Paris notes that a eulogy for the Spitfire was given during this part of the film: ‘one of the deadliest weapons put into the hands of man’, but edited out of the version described here [289, p. 130].) A number of pilots’ images and Spitfires provided visual confirmation for an actor citing ‘Never in the field of human conflict . . . ’ As the national anthem played Churchill was seen, as were RAF fighters in ‘V’ formations – one crossing a hole in the church roof as originally used to end Mrs Miniver. Its release for educational (propaganda) purposes to American Forces from April 1943 required extensive efforts to ensure that front-line troops were able to see this and other films in the series, Doherty noting that skilled staff went to insecure areas with generators and projectors to screen them [174, p. 75]. It was then released commercially, first in the United States from late-May 1943, and then in Britain from autumn 1943, preceded by film of Churchill. In this, Churchill – who had pushed for British commercial release – was very complimentary about the series as effective propaganda, and grateful for the manner in which Britain’s contribution to the war effort was projected [144, pp. 247–8]. However, the film’s documentary style limited its appeal to mass audiences, many seeking by 1943 to escape the war. M-O’s November 1943 survey of filmgoers drew several responses about the film, one ranking it as his third favourite out of six [309, p. 257], and a woman also endorsed it: ‘Seldom do we get a chance to see History’ [309, p. 275]. The film contained many of the key themes and RAF’s achievements now firmly established by the AM’s preferred version of events, notably in print. In conjunction with the use of oftseen film footage it did not offer the British a fresh perspective. With America now firmly in the war Knight and Capra were able to project the RAF’s victory without concerns about offending the Nazis; not that this was a constraining factor in the March of Time’s 1940, Britain’s RAF newsreel, with which it bears some comparison.

Retrospect and post-war cinema It is striking that both the AM and British filmmakers eschewed the opportunity to develop a British film along the American Eagle Squadron lines with a British fighter pilot as its central character in a film centred mostly upon the war.

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A surprising rejection of the cult of the warrior-hero, this was in keeping with the RAF’s unease about aces. More practically it represented a missed opportunity, effective propaganda always easier to project through the vehicle of a romantic story, the hero fighting for Britain’s survival. Dangerous Moonlight fulfilled that requirement in part, but Radetzky was of course a Polish fighter pilot whose first concern – quite reasonably – was the liberation of his conquered homeland. The First of the Few was bereft of a pilot warrior-hero (other than the well-spoken young men discussing the Spitfire’s virtues), Mitchell’s inventive genius less dramatic on screen than the momentum afforded by a central character in sustained sequences. The pilots in The Lion has Wings were largely insignificant as individuals, as were the briefly seen Hurricanes in The Way to the Stars (but not, curiously, the bomber pilots). Noted above, the RAF had provided significant support for several films and was clearly aware of the propaganda value to be gained from broadly accurate airfield and aerial footage, but in other respects the AM was awkward and unresponsive when it disapproved of a plot. The net result was few feature films about the Few that really captured the essence of the fighting; in consequence a limited range of powerful propaganda epics was produced, none really satisfactory in conveying the realities of combat during the Battle. Inaccurately, the Spitfire was rapidly both iconicised and mythicised as virtually the only aircraft flown by the RAF in the Battle, either because Mitchell’s masterpiece was deemed the more photogenic (as indeed it was, and not lost on the RAF), or because it was easier for the RAF to provide access to those squadrons for filming, rather than Hurricanes. Despite such support, on balance commercial film-makers probably found AM restrictions too stringent, the likely filmic result unappealing, overly propagandised (even for highly patriotic film directors) and limiting in plot potential. As to wartime films’ impact in the post-war era, Aldgate confirms the truism that film is not intended to be an accurate, authentic record of events, but instead sought to capture or project specific ideological, propaganda or commercial aims [109, pp. 207–8]. Despite inaccuracies, the wartime films have determined broad filmic perceptions of the Few since its conclusion [106, p. 10]. In keeping with the war itself, post-war feature films about the Few are similarly not numerous despite the Battle’s celebrated status [271, ch. 5]. This in part reflects the challenges of recreating large set-piece aerial combats with broadly authentic aircraft, the following the only attempts to substantially address the Battle on film. Angels One Five (1952) was very successful as the first such film, much of the focus a Sector Station operations room and included some combat sequences. Reach for the Sky (1956) followed Bader’s struggle to be taken back into the RAF, and his role as a warrior and fighter-leader, with recreated air combats. Almost 30 years after the Battle, The Battle of Britain (1969) in seeking to accurately portray the key events, drew mixed responses but was able to capture

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a sense of the massed aerial combats flying reconditioned RAF fighters, against Spanish Air Force Me109s and He111s. Although not a film, the ITV series Piece of Cake (1988) based upon Robinson’s novel portrayed the ‘fighter boys’ in France and the Battle and used Spitfires; Paul Richey was engaged in a copyright dispute concerning Fighter Pilot [77] until his death in 1989. In a slight echo of Dangerous Moonlight, Dark Blue World (2001) focused upon Czechoslovak pilots who fought for Britain during the Battle, a romantic triangle with an English woman featuring. All of these films drew upon wartime filmic portrayals of the Battle to some extent, and it is undeniable that they have coloured post-war perceptions of the Few and their achievement.

11 To So Few

Publishing propaganda Books were invariably a ‘cold’ form of propaganda projection, depending upon their publication date, quality and aims. As a vehicle for propaganda they were rather ineffectual for those unwilling or unable to devote time to reading, the cumulative process of projecting a message more difficult in terms of ‘reach’ where individuals lacked the time, means, motivation or access to such publications. Even so, only one or two books on related themes would contribute to the forming of an opinion in the reader’s mind, the results of which might be discussed with others. Writing and production schedules rendered most books out of date in terms of ‘warm’ currency; wireless, newsreel and newspaper modes more effective for these, hence journalism’s status as the ‘first draft of history’. Their real value was in the process of mythicisation through the consolidation of previously established coverage and projections about specific events. A key factor that affected both quality and volume was official censorship, Sebastian Knowles believing that its impact upon literature was significant, with a repetition of the First World War’s literary output not possible [247, p. xx]. Despite this, during the Battle the Minister of Information Duff Cooper, in speaking about self-censorship for book publishers on 12 September, was anxious to preserve the voluntary system operated with publishers, if for no other reason than ‘the great cause of liberty’. He argued: ‘We could not fight truthfully and valiantly unless we maintained liberty amongst ourselves’ [535, p. 9, col. e]. Whether the scheme withstood the test of time is a moot point, but there is little in the following publications whose opinion or content was not available in the press, or would excite undue comment. Not to be confused with censorship, a focus upon propaganda as the key aim when pursued at the expense of literary achievement may also have resulted in often-inferior prose. On this issue Jenny Hartley acknowledges that despite the pressures of war work, and serious shortages of paper, the amount both written and published was remarkable, 278

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but confines her reflections on quality to noting that books about the war enjoyed popularity as a means of relieving tedium, and as such were bought in large quantities [220, p. 8]. It is also probable that during the war itself several established authors felt uncomfortable about devoting their time to writing, some rendered somewhat incapable given the parlous state of the world, and their place in it [212, p. 62]. This may in part have contributed to poor quality scholarship, leading Tom Harrisson to dismiss early British war books as ‘all completely unreadable’ in 1941 [247, p. xiii]. To reach this view he read every book with anything to do with the war during its first two years, reporting his assessment to the readership of Horizon. A sole exception was The Aerodrome, an allegory and love story about a totalitarian air force squadron and its impact upon a local village [247, p. xiii], but despite its Anglicised names and setting it was not about the RAF (for whom the author had deep respect) [99]. Longmate agrees with Harrisson that the war was not a good time for books [253, p. 442]. Angus Calder details other war constraints upon publishing and the qualitative and quantitive impact on the ambitions of writers and commercial publishers [145, pp. 511–16]. These began to bite soon after the Battle had been fought and Geoffrey Faber, writing in The Spectator, had earlier anticipated challenges likely to be faced by the publishing industry in September 1939, where paper supplies, call-ups of staff and distribution were all of concern [212, pp. 61–3]. Shortages of raw materials presented real challenges to the book trade by early 1941, leading to formal protests by leading writers on 1 January 1942. To give an indication of scale, the War Office’s 25,000 tons of paper per year was greater than the 20,000 tons available to the entire publishing trade; the latter by 1943, now reduced to 25 per cent of its pre-war supplies [253, p. 447]. These limitations impacted upon the numbers of new books published: in 1939 the number was 15,000, but by 1943 this fell to 6700 and remained so until war’s end [253, p. 449]. From January 1942 and implemented through the Book Production War Economy Agreement, the imposition of these reductions impaired the quality of book dust jackets, layouts and illustrations, resulting in thin books, narrow margins, smaller type and chapters running into each other without adequate separation [253, p. 448]. Additional government controls could be exercised by favouring some publishers with official contracts for the production of MOI-sponsored books, and the paper needed to do so. Publishers such as Oxford University Press worked with government in this regard for varied war-related publications including the War Pictures by British Artists series [10]. Despite all of the undoubted challenges, books’ principal propaganda value lay in the affirmation of a particular perspective or achievement into the longer term, much in the manner that Churchill’s celebrated The Second World War series sought post-war to impose his version of events upon its historiography, at the earliest opportunity [307]. Despite this, M-O found that during 1941 very little use of books for propaganda had been attempted whether officially or

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unofficially, government interest mostly to be seen in only sponsoring some publications. This apparent lack of engagement even extended to the official commissioning of a writer they suggested, even for an independent volume [57, pp. 36–7]. However, it is hard to view the Battle of Britain pamphlet within these terms, this a massive propaganda success, discussed shortly. More broadly, and as with all writers, quality could in any event vary greatly between treatments of the same subject matter and books addressing aspects of the Battle were no exception. These began to appear as it was fought, but it had though been difficult to write in a considered way as events unfolded during its 16 weeks, simply because of access to useful information and book production timescales. The situation following its conclusion was strikingly different, many books appearing between early 1941 and the war’s end in May 1945 about the Battle, or aspects of it. Even so, of the 100 or so books published between 1941 and 1945 that included aspects of the Few or the Battle, few are now widely known (Bibliography). Without exception, all strongly affirmed the RAF’s professionalism, prowess and bravery in the face of ‘considerable odds’, but not overly so. Presented as essentially peace-loving warriors forced to do battle with the Luftwaffe – slow to anger, and appeals to reason having failed – they fought with resolution, grit and stunning success, virtually all accounts proclaimed. A synthesis of the RAF’s high-quality personnel, strongly technological and modern organisation, old-fashioned moral values and valour, combined in these diverse publications to project a strong propaganda message about sacrifice, success and ultimate victory. They reflect the RAF’s desired approach to publicity, the similar content of many books a reflection both of controlled access to materials, but also a willingness on the part of authors to toe the line and make their own contribution to the war effort. They may not have been able to fight in it directly, but well understood the primacy of the word as a weapon for war making. As relevant today as it was during the war, there was also commercial potential to consider, books and official pamphlets about the Battle clearly of interest to many.

Official and semi-official propaganda One propaganda achievement towers above all others in projecting the RAF fighter pilots’ Battle role to an international audience, and also refutes in part M-O’s 1941 belief that official interest in propaganda was slight. Hilary Aiden St George Saunders’ MOI, AM and HMSO published, The Battle of Britain appeared in March 1941, a plain, text-only version of 32 pages [137 × 210 mm], selling for threepence, and then later, in a graphically more striking version, with illustrations, for sixpence [93]. The pamphlet’s publication was timely: there had been little ‘good news’ in the first 18 months of war, the Few’s success a legitimate subject for a morale-boosting tribute. The surprise was that it

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appeared only five months after the struggle for air supremacy had been decided, that of itself must stand as a record for a prompt official response to events – it was undoubtedly a propaganda masterstroke. Saunders, a First World War veteran with the Military Cross for gallantry, had enjoyed success in the interwar period with thrillers and historical novels. Having begun working for the government in 1938, after the fall of France in 1940, Saunders moved to the AM and created a section for his activities [230, p. 23]. Albert Goodwin, an Oxford historian, undertook the basic research for Saunders in 1940–1941, following the pamphlet’s commissioning by the AM Historical Branch [307, p. 186]. Felicity Peake notes that Saunders was the sole writer in the DPR’s PR11 section, supported by a clerical staff [291, p. 53]. M-O were more muted in 1941 noting that the pamphlet was a straightforward documentary account written by a best-selling peacetime author [57, p. 37]. But this is to seriously underrate the pamphlet’s impact. Saunders’ approach was based upon the study of commanders’ and pilots’ combat reports, interviews with combatants and RAF intelligence reports – the process somewhat eased by his supporting staff. Subject to the inevitable scrutiny by MOI and RAF officials he was otherwise given a free hand in what to include, and writing later about their contents he acknowledged that based upon information available at the time, whilst no pamphlet had contained the whole truth, neither had they contained a lie; Bernard Davy, writing in 1941, was similarly persuaded and thought the official booklet both accurate and inspiring [230, p. 25; 25, p. 133]. The chronology was determined as 8 August to 31 October, and divided into four phases: this excludes the period 10 July–7 August, added later in the war (see Chronology). The pamphlet’s structure and headings confirmed the AM’s determination to seize the initiative, define its version of events, maximise the propaganda opportunities and enhance the reputation of the RAF [230, pp. 22–4]. The propagandising of Fighter Command’s Battle victory also strengthened the AM’s demands for more pilots, aircraft, airfields and resources, these necessary to meet Sholto Douglas’s offensive ambitions in 1941. Pamphlet section headings confirm the populist, narrative format adopted, an inevitable approach given the recentness of the Battle and Saunders’ stated aim of writing contemporary history, rather than the weighing of each historical fact judicially [230, p. 25]. Introductory elements were addressed in ‘The scene is set’ with the sub-headings ‘First great air battle in history’, ‘These were the weapons used’, ‘The British fighter force on guard’ and ‘The German Command plans a knockout’ [93, pp. 3–10]. Progressing to ‘Phase I: the offensive is launched’, the pamphlet claimed ‘German losses run into hundreds of aircraft’, between 8 and 18 August [93, pp. 10–12], after which ‘Phase II: the attack on inland aerodromes’ lasted from 24 August to 5 September, wherein ‘Eight hundred aircraft attack fighter aerodromes’, and during which ‘Hurricanes and Spitfires stay in

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the air’ [93, pp. 12–15]. ‘Phase III: London versus G¨ oring’ recounted the attacks from 7 September, perceived as ‘The last throw’ by the Luftwaffe in its bid to defeat the RAF; the ‘Success of British fighter interception’ was deemed to be crucial in deterring changing tactics to 5 October [93, pp. 15–19]. From 6 October ‘Phase IV: the Luftwaffe in retreat’ began with fighters and fighter-bombers used at great heights to attack London, ‘The last move countered’ by the RAF’s fighters [93, pp. 19–21]. A large, separate section was devoted to ‘The greatest day: 15th September 1940’, during which the enemy was claimed to have lost 185 aircraft. This date was taken as one of the ‘great days’ and used to illustrate ‘an individual day’s fighting’. Sub-headings included ‘ ‘‘Achtung, Schpitfuer!’’ ’, ‘ ‘‘Justification for our new tactics’’ ’, ‘Dropping every few miles’ and ‘Second wave of afternoon attackers’, giving an indication of the detailed assessment of aerial combat as it unfolded, and its outcomes [93, pp. 21–8]. Typical of the content was this section recounting RAF pilots’ experiences as recorded in combat reports: Then there was the pilot who twice attacked an Me.109 which each time strove to escape in an almost vertical dive. The first of these from 20,000 feet was successful, for the German pilot straightened out, but only to find that the British pilot had followed him down and was close upon him. ‘By that time,’ said the British pilot, ‘I was going faster than the enemy aircraft and I continued firing until I had to pull away to the right to avoid a collision.’ His burst of fire had taken effect, for the German never recovered, but plunged down until he entered cloud, about 6,000 ft. below when the British pilot had to recover from the dive as his aircraft was going at approximately four hundred and eighty miles an hour. ‘I then made my way through the cloud at a reasonable speed,’ he reported, ‘and saw the wreckage of the enemy aircraft burning furiously.’ [93, p. 25] Another example of the RAF’s valour was projected through the example of a few fighters against numerous enemy formations, again in the section on 15 September: But it was seldom that we had the advantage in numbers. The enemy, however, seemed unable to profit by his numerical superiority. A single Hurricane, for example, encountered twelve yellow-nosed Messerschmitts flying straight at it. The pilot dived under them but swooped upwards and shot down the rear aircraft from directly underneath . . . The British pilot accordingly destroyed another enemy aircraft from the rear and damaged a second before the Germans became aware of what was happening, and he was forced, being still in the numerical inferiority of nine to one, to break off the action. [93, p. 26]

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Some media reports and cartoons would light-heartedly reverse such odds, giving the RAF a qualitative advantage despite the odds – ‘I outnumbered them by one to nine’; or, perhaps talk of ‘surrounding’ a massed formation of hundreds of bombers and fighters with a handful of RAF fighters. The reality was that it was highly ill advised to attack large formations of Me109s when so heavily outnumbered – but it did happen. Also striking were the number of references to Hurricanes and Spitfires, the former featuring 27 times, the latter, 19. In an echo of The Aeroplane’s determination to ensure that the Hurricane’s pivotal role was not overlooked, the pamphlet included several examples of Hurricane combats. Saunders at least was determined to ensure that the Spitfire’s role was not aggrandised, a view seemingly accepted by others assessing the pamphlet before its publication. Narrative closure was provided in the pamphlet’s concluding section entitled ‘Men like these’, claiming that ‘By 31st October the battle was over. It did not cease dramatically. It died gradually away’ [93, p. 31]. Leaving no one in doubt about the Few’s achievement, the full sentence upon which the section was based ran: ‘Men like these saved England’ [93, p. 30]. The sub-headings ‘Sky full of Spitfires and Hurricanes’ and ‘Shattered and disordered armada’ summarised Saunders’ assessment of the Luftwaffe’s defeat [93, pp. 28–32]. RAF claims that ‘Between the 8th August and 31st October, 2375 German aircraft are known to have been destroyed in daylight’, as distinct from ‘damaged’ [93, p. 31], although controversial in America [284, p. 131], were difficult to corroborate until after the war by which time it mattered far less. Continuing from the claimed figure of 2375 aircraft shot down the narrative moved towards its climactic mythicisation of the Few’s triumph: This figure takes no account of those lost at night or those, seen by thousands, staggering back to their French bases, wings and fuselage full of holes, ailerons shot away, engines smoking and dripping glycol, undercarriages dangling – the retreating remnants of a shattered and disordered Armada. This melancholy procession of the defeated was to be observed not once but many times during those summer and autumn days of 1940. Truly it was a great deliverance . . . Such was the Battle of Britain in 1940. Future historians may compare it with Marathon, Trafalgar and the Marne. [93, p. 30] The illustrated version of 36 pages [159 × 235 mm] included 22 images, a mixture of photographs and graphic diagrams (Plate 22). A line up of RAF pilots was featured on its pages two and three (the latter with Churchill’s epigraph beginning ‘The gratitude of every home . . . ’ and concluding with ‘to so few’) above; also included were two showing Hurricanes in flight, and one of a prewar Spitfire. Luftwaffe aircraft either shot down, or heading earthwards on fire were used – these embellished with gun-cine film stills. The graphics showed

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the main developments during the Battle’s phases (I–III), with England’s southeastern area inland to Duxford and Bournemouth the focus of massed Luftwaffe attacks. Other illustrations showed the relative speeds of both sides’ aircraft, a diagram of the RAF command and control system (excluding RDF stations) (Plate 1), varied Luftwaffe bomber formations, and a diagram of an RAF attack on a fighter formation (Plate 21). Perversely, there were no mentions of Air Chief Marshal Dowding (or Air Vice-Marshal Park) in either the text-only or illustrated versions of the pamphlet. The head of an army or fighting force following such a stunning victory might be expected to receive if not praise, then certainly some acknowledgment, but the AM ungraciously withheld it. Many pilots were bitter at such poor treatment and Dowding too noted the slight, his views probably chiming with Collier, his biographer, who reflected that senior figures were jealous of his success and were not inclined to allow him the credit he deserved [158, p. 233]. In Reynolds’ view this lack of references to individuals aligned with AM policy on anonymity, the aim as previously noted to avoid glorifying leading fighter pilots at the expense of the rest [307, p. 186]; this is similarly noted by Hough & Richards, who doubted a conspiracy but thought it an absurd omission, which clearly it was [227, p. 324]. Dowding was, however, by that time a warrior-leader, not a pilot, and Churchill was sufficiently angered to complain strongly in a memorandum to the Secretary of State for Air about Dowding’s absence from the pamphlet, on 12 April 1941. Likening the situation to Lord Nelson’s name being absent in relation to Trafalgar, he blamed jealousy and cliquism within the AM [227, p. 324]. Goering, as the Luftwaffe’s commander and Dowding’s opposite, was mentioned numerous times. Regarding its historical accuracy, Dowding was praiseworthy both in public and in private [158, p. 233], confirming in his 1941 despatch that he thought it an admirable record, well suited to public consumption (and therefore effective propaganda, an aspect of war making that he had not shied away from during the arguments about aircraft claims released by the AM during the Battle) [29, para. 104, p. 4549]. His only concerns in the pamphlet were about the high speed given for the Hurricane, and the misleading reference to Fighter Command being stronger at the end than it had been at its outset, where he believed that this obscured the heavy price paid by pilots in achieving victory, and the severe problems faced in supplying fighter pilots [29, para. 105–7, p. 4549; 158, pp. 233–4]. Of the publication as a whole, its overall confirmation of a RAF victory was still accurate, the only issue being the high number of RAF claims made during the Battle [230, p. 25]. Churchill, in writing his Finest Hour volume for his epic series, The Second World War [152, ch. xvi] drew heavily upon the ‘admirable’ AM account for his chapters on the RAF’s defensive success, the epigraph ‘Battle of Britain’ relating solely to the Few in his highly influential account [307, pp. 185–8].

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Both the pamphlet’s national sales and impact were vast: Overy suggests that over a million copies were sold in Britain, the pamphlet crucial in ascribing the legendary nature of the Battle since 1941 [284, pp. 130–1]. Reynolds states that sales exceeded one million for the original version, and half a million for the illustrated one [307, p. 186]. Bungay suggests that two million copies were sold, the pamphlet engendering a powerful and positive view of the Battle, as indeed it did [142, pp. xi–xii]. Longmate comments that both versions sold between them five million copies, with the result that it was easily the best-seller of the war [253, pp. 442–3]. Peake, who worked in the AM’s DPR during the period of its release, suggested six million copies were sold in total [291, p. 53]. Another estimate suggests 15 million copies sold internationally throughout the war years notably in America and the Dominions – the illustrated version in different languages – though this figure is deemed somewhat high [230, p. 24]. Even allowing for a range of between one million to five million it was undeniably a massive success, and 300,000 copies were sold on its first day of release alone [230, p. 23]. The pamphlet was serialised in the Daily Express from 31 March 1941, proving extremely popular [293, p. 11]. An incredible bargain given these sales, Saunders was paid just £50 by the AM for writing the pamphlet [227, p. 324]. Later in 1941 he wrote Bomber Command, achieving the aim of likewise elevating the ‘bomber boys’ who had been somewhat eclipsed in the public’s mind by the Few during the Battle [92]. Two versions of the Battle pamphlet were available in America [34, 93*] these selling in huge quantities on the back of a major marketing campaign in 1941 with a positive impact upon American perceptions of Britain’s war [230, p. 24]. The full-text illustrated edition selling for 25 cents ran to 56 pages [247 × 197 mm] and included 18 photographs, diagrams and maps. Profits were donated to the RAF Benevolent Fund. Also available in America the Puffin booklet included the abridged AM text and illustrations, children the key audience, discussed below. Almost identical to the illustrated British version [246 × 159 mm], a Canadian variant of the pamphlet was published by The Queen’s Canadian Fund For Air Raid Victims on behalf of the British Air Ministry – selling for ten cents, The Halifax Herald and The Halifax Mail distributed some versions (Plate 22). Aside from the welcomed profits from sales, within just five months of a major, aerial clash of arms, the world had been provided with an account that cast very serious doubt on the Luftwaffe’s offensive capability. A convincing refutation by Goering and his Nazi propagandists proved impossible and the reasonable, mythologised status of Churchill’s Few – and Dowding’s ‘chicks’ – was affirmed. The latter soubriquet arising early in the Battle, Dowding was proud when Churchill spoke affectionately of him and his ‘chicks’ [29, para. 179, p. 4555]. A principal reason for Goebbels’ difficulties was simply that the booklet, and its companion The Battle of the Atlantic, impressed him. He went so far

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as to confirm that they were both magnificent examples of propaganda, the Germans possessing nothing against which to compare them [119, p. 432]. He further suggested that such propaganda should be merely objective, a statement of the facts, and nothing more. Despite this high praise Orwell took a very different view, criticising the booklet for all the aspects that Goebbels found so valuable. Recording in his diary on 8 April 1941 Orwell wrote: Have just read The Battle of Britain, the MOI’s best best-seller (there was so great a run on it that copies were unprocurable for some days) . . . I suppose it is not as bad as it might be, but seeing that it is being translated into many languages and will undoubtedly be read all over the world – it is the first official account, at any rate in English, of the first great air battle in history – it is a pity that they did not have the sense to avoid the propagandist note altogether. The pamphlet is full of ‘heroic’, ‘glorious exploits’ etc, and the Germans are spoken of more or less slightingly. Why couldn’t they simply give a cold, accurate account of the facts, which, after all, are favourable enough? For the sake of the bit of cheer-up that this pamphlet will accomplish in England, they throw away the chance of producing something that would be accepted all over the world as a standard authority and used to counter German lies. [282, pp. 391–2] Following the success of the 1941 pamphlet, in August 1943 the AM’s Department of the Air Member for Training published in booklet form a revised account of the Battle running to 100 pages [190 × 125 mm], for issue to trainee RAF personnel [2]. A more detailed account of the Battle than that released in March 1941 for public consumption, this illustrated publication sought to confirm the importance of all branches of the RAF, whether pilots, maintenance, ground crews, training staff or logistics. With no security classification indicated, the pamphlet presumably made its way into circulation beyond the RAF itself, as the later stages of the war progressed. Its introductory text confirmed its tone: ‘During the summer and autumn of 1940 the Royal Air Force fought a battle in defence of the British Isles against the highly trained and numerically superior German Air Force. The result was decisive, and the historian will assess the true importance of this victory in preserving world civilization’ [2, i.f.c.]. A revised chronology confirmed 10 July as the official start date for the air war, its phase one – over the Channel and south coast – running until 18 August. Phase two, the ‘Battle of London’, ran from 19 August to 27 September, the final phase, the ‘Battle of Attrition’, from 28 September to 31 October. These broad phases were sub-divided into briefer periods, recognisable in the post-war historiography. Photographs of aircraft, pilots, downed aircraft and senior personnel were included, as were Observer Corps and ground crews. Park, as the head of

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11 Group, was shown near his Hurricane ‘OK1’, but Dowding’s image was not featured; instead, photographs of the most senior officers in the Observer Corps, Training Command and Maintenance Command were included, with artists’ portraits of Portal (who during most of the Battle was head of Bomber Command), and also the head of Coastal Command (not a key player in the air fighting itself). Having neglected to name him in the 1941 pamphlet, Dowding was at last mentioned in the 1943 narrative: ‘The R.A.F. was fortunate in having Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh (now Lord) Dowding as Commander-in-Chief of Fighter Command at that time’ [2, p. 8], and more fulsomely with, ‘the organizing genius of the Commander-in-Chief of Fighter Command’ as a significant element in the defeat of the Luftwaffe [2, p. 1]. Given its purpose for RAF training the narrative was more detailed and acknowledged the existence of a complex command and control system using ‘radio location stations’ and operations rooms. Detailed accounts of the various stages of the air fighting and the RAF’s responses to each were provided, the Battle a by now firmly established victory. Young men and women who were perhaps 15 or 16 as the Battle unfolded were reminded about the RAF’s success, and its traditions and expectations. The conclusion – written with the benefit of hindsight – identified several key moments including missed opportunities by the Luftwaffe, a rigid timetable, an effective British air defence system and the impact of German aircraft losses [2, pp. 85–8]. For the young, impressionable recruit, it was powerful propaganda, and certainly something to live up to. Two other official MOI, HMSO publications addressing aspects of the Battle were Front Line 1940–1941, giving an account of civil defences [4], and Roof Over Britain, concerning air defences between 1939 and 1942 [7]. Illustrated with photographs and some diagrams, both sought to project the importance of the less glamorous barrage balloons and anti-aircraft guns. The Battle was contextualised as part of the wider war, the brief text following a similar historical approach to that in the 1941 pamphlet. The Blitz was a major focus in Front Line, the daylight Battle noted as its prelude [4, pp. 7–15]. It too sought to define the terms within which the Few would be remembered: The great German air offensive . . . met with total defeat. This fact can be no more obscured by telling a grievous tale of death and material destruction than can the Royal Air Force’s defeat of the Germans in the Battle of Britain, by pointing to the casualty lists of our fighter pilots . . . It was the conscious privilege of the British people to teach him two lessons . . . The first was the Battle of Britain, when the finest squadrons of his [Hitler’s] chief weapon of terror were brought low by lesser numbers of freer men [and the second was the defeat of the Nazi air bombardment on the home front] . . . The first was the triumph of the few . . . The first was the more brilliant . . . [4, pp. 158–9]

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Roof Over Britain conveyed the Battle in ‘Defending the airfields’ about the air fighting before the attack on London [7, pp. 44–8], the latter addressed in ‘The great London barrage’ [7, pp. 48–54]. Mid-war verdicts were by then entirely consolidated, as was the determination to broaden out the credit as widely as possible. Predicting the status of the Battle into the future, Roof Over Britain was clear that ‘every part of the Air Defence of Great Britain can fairly claim its share in what history will undoubtedly pronounce to have been a victory’ [7, p. 88]. Pilots’ memoirs Combat savagery and loss during the First World War may have deterred gifted poets going into the infantry, some instead preferring the RAF – ‘the few’ – where opportunities for heroism were relatively more likely [247, p. xxi]. For poets and writers, this rapidly became a reality, especially for those willing to commit combat experiences to paper. Somewhat ironically, being injured as a fighter pilot and then assigned to non-operational staff duties or instructing created a rare opportunity to do exactly that. For example, Flying Officer Paul Richey’s experiences as a Hurricane pilot fighting in France during May appeared as Fighter Pilot in September 1941 to effusive praise, but he was not identified as its author [77]. Severe combat injuries meant that he did not fight in the Battle, but instead worked as a fighter operations sector controller at Middle Wallop, returning to operational flying in 1941. He acknowledged in his final paragraph the importance of the RAF’s experience in France, for aiding Britain’s survival during the Battle: Well, as everyone knows, the Luftwaffe came to England. Many of us who fought in France were unable . . . to take part in the Battle of Britain. But even so . . . we like to think that we had something to do with the saving of this Island. We like to think that we gave the Luftwaffe a little bit of a shaking up . . . We like to think, too, that our experience helped the British fighter squadrons to inflict its first defeat on the Luftwaffe in August and September, 1940. [77, p. 122] First-hand RAF pilots’ accounts of the fighting were published from the summer of 1941, even though it was clearly a challenge to write when injured, and difficult to satisfy stringent RAF constraints. The AM operated a policy of forbidding RAF personnel from publishing books, except where specific permission was granted [598, p. 1, ‘comments and criticisms’]. Richey’s anonymous Fighter Pilot passed through an intense scrutiny process that began with his CO’s agreement regarding content verification and clearance; thereafter, his station commander assessed it, to be followed by his Group commander, HQ Fighter Command and finally, the AM, where Harald Peake guided it through the final stages of vetting. Throughout, the only requirement was that the language be toned down! [1991

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Arrow reprint of 77, pp. 3–4]. These constraints notwithstanding, formal RAF permission to publish such material would be a clear recognition of the publicity value to be gained (and at very little cost to the AM). Given the arduous process involved, only some seven personal pilots’ accounts of the Battle were published during the war as single-author volumes – time to write an essential element – with four pilots recovering from serious burns, the other three serving on staff duties or flying instruction. Constrained by time to write, censorship considerations, publishers’ expectations and the fact that the point of the books was principally about RAF combat experience, these memoirs followed a broadly similar chronological format up to and including operational service. Selection, then pre- or early-war training in the RAF or other flying led naturally into being called up from the reserve, after which pilots found themselves flying Spitfires or Hurricanes in operational squadrons. Other than the day-to-day details and colourful personalities, teamwork, humour, self-confidence, a relaxed approach and a determination to do well were the main characteristics that shone through descriptions of squadron life – these aspects continuing in the face of losses. Thereafter, they increasingly gained experience in combat, and in most cases could claim to have shot down enemy aircraft, the narratives often racy but not overly revealing as to quite how grisly it was. Of many possible examples, Sutton’s shooting down a Ju87 Stuka in a Hurricane is typical: I overshot the first too quickly to observe the effect of my short burst, but I was able to fasten on to the tail of the second. Twisting and turning, he was now only a few feet above the water. I pressed the firing button as he tried a sudden steep turn to the right which brought him right across my gun-sights. The worst shot in the world could not have missed. The Junkers tightened its turn but skidded violently towards the water as its nose dropped. In less than a second it was all over. It had hit the water with the full momentum of its three tons travelling at 200 miles per hour, but it plunged in like a stone and made little splash. As I watched, something wound up in my stomach. It was my first Hun but there was no immediate feeling of elation. For a moment I was conscious of a sickly, nauseating wave of sympathy for the wretched men I had sent to their doom. It was a sensation which, thank God, I never had again. [94, pp. 102–3] Pilots’ modesty and reluctance to accept the term ‘ace’ or other adulatory descriptions was a common theme, their preference to be acknowledged as simply doing one’s duty (and a quiet determination to carry on as fighter pilots).

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David Masters, in his foreword to So Few, noted of the pilots that they were disinclined to ‘line shoot’, an unwritten code strictly adhered to concerning the discussion of personal deeds of heroism and valour [58, p. 20]. This chimed with the newspaper and newsreel coverage during the summer of 1940. Being shot down and injured was a cause for regret, but in the main, whilst there was a degree of self-reflection on the part of these very young men, self-pity is not evident. In some instances the pilots’ injuries and burns allowed them to focus upon writing during convalescence, experiences that became integral to their narratives. Seeking vengeance for horrific injuries was articulated in restrained tones, with no hint of bloodthirsty fanaticism – censorship scrutiny would have ironed out undesirable comments in any case. The other narrative route for those not injured, but taken off operational flying, was simply to describe on a week-by-week basis the nature of their combats until they stopped. Rarely, pilots would attempt to write as they continued operational flying. Of the seven pilot-authors, Squadron Leader Thomas Gleave was shot down on 31 August; grievously burned, I Had a Row with a German appeared relatively quickly in summer, 1941, the first account by one of the Few, but officially authored by an ‘RAF Casualty’ [74]. The remaining pilots’ accounts appeared in Britain during 1942, the majority identified. American Pilot Officer Arthur Donahue was shot down and burnt in combat on 12 August, his Tally Ho! Yankee in a Spitfire published in spring 1942 in Britain [27]. His book was probably written between mid-September and May 1941 during leave in America, and quiet periods of operational flying. Having served briefly with the newly formed 71 ‘Eagle’ Squadron, he returned to operational flying and died in the Channel during combat, in 1942. His book was a best-seller in America during the autumn of 1941, published there before the British release [167, p. 176]. Also at that time, Flight Lieutenant Brian Lane’s Spitfire appeared under the pseudonym B.J. Ellan, written during latter 1941 on staff duties [30]; he too died during combat in 1942. In May 1942 Flight Lieutenant Ian Gleed’s Arise to Conquer was published [36], written during operational flying presumably in 1941; he died in 1943, fighting over Tunisia. Three accounts appeared during June 1942. Flying Officer Frank Sutton was shot down on 28 August, possibly by a Spitfire and badly burned; The Way of a Pilot appeared following a year in hospital [94]. Spitfire Pilot by Pilot Officer David Crook was written during his time as a flying instructor, after which he died in 1944 flying a photographic reconnaissance Spitfire [24]. The third and best-known wartime pilot’s memoir, The Last Enemy, was published on 19 June [45], and has been the subject of considerable interest since [143; 173; 187, pp. 108–110, 257–260; 301, ch. 2; 317]. Its author Pilot Officer Richard Hillary was shot down on 3 September and badly burned; he died in 1943 in a disputed flying accident [317, ch. 18]. Hillary had previously broadcast his combat recollections in July and August 1941 [114, pp. 280–1]. In two

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parts, Hillary’s ‘book one’ documented his undergraduate experiences with the Oxford University Air Squadron, the developing war, being mobilised as an RAF reservist, flying the Spitfire for the first time, his squadron friends and – in truth, brief – combat experiences, including killing. In book two, the slow process of recovery having been shot down and hideously burned was explored. Interwoven throughout Hillary’s narrative, and missing from fellow pilots’ accounts, was his ability to express these experiences through effective prose. A News Chronicle review confirmed its contents: A story which goes far beyond the tale of a fighter pilot, of what it is like to be a fighter pilot, of his fears and his hopes and his triumphs. It is the confession of a young man of twenty, an Oxford undergraduate, who accepts the war gladly because of its promise to solve problems of self and future, who comes close to death, suffers horribly and finally discovers himself and a reason for living. [45, i.d.c.] The Sunday Times lavished praise on the book: ‘Most pilots, unfortunately, cannot write; most writers, unfortunately, cannot fly. The author . . . can not only fly; he can also write’ [45, r.d.c.]. Calder suggests that despite Hillary’s being a writer and not a poet, he came close enough within wartime constraints to be able to fulfil that role [145, p. 518]. Hillary, having been shot down, badly burned and undergone extensive treatment further consolidated that claim through his insistence that he return to flying. His death in an aircraft at only 23 years of age added further weight to his status [145, p. 518]. He thus joined Great War poets whose immortality was assured through death in battle, except that Hillary was not in combat, but on a training flight in a Blenheim. He had nevertheless displayed the necessary grit both in combat, where he was technically an ace – but not awarded for this (he claimed five Me109s and two probables in just six days of combat [328, p. 329]) – and in his determination to return to operational flying. Hillary thus satisfied the ‘poetic’ requirements for a warrior-intellectual, his sceptical musings about duty, martyrdom, morality and personal motives adding spice to his account. Hillary was unique, not in his combat experience but in his literary ambition, articulation and scope [187, pp. 109–11; 301, ch. 2]. In this regard his approach owed perhaps more to poetry, Mark Rawlinson suggesting that Hillary came to symbolise the conflict in the same manner that Rupert Brooke was associated with the Great War [301, p. 40]. In literary terms therefore Hillary’s courage was propagandised to reflect the commitment of his generation [145, p. 518] where he also benefited from official support, Duff Cooper and Archibald Sinclair well aware of his activities (and also the propaganda opportunities) [317, p. 220]. Hillary’s book, hailed a ‘classic’, was a major best-seller and literary success: his first biographer Lovat Dickson confirmed in June 1950 that the English

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edition had sold 135,000 copies, its American version Falling Through Space, 15,000. French sales stood at 35,000 and the book had been translated into all European languages, with many admirers in post-war Germany [173, p. viii]. It remains in print and has continued to inform post-war generations about the nature of air fighting, in all its dimensions. Shorter accounts of air combats were printed as collections of stories about the wider war. The influential American Life magazine published a series of articles and images in a single volume in November, in Their Finest Hour. ‘I fought over London’ was a brisk, early account of the air fighting by RAF Hurricane pilot Sergeant Beard at the height of the Battle, the details censored, the flavour typical of material found in pilots’ books. Although he was shot down, he convincingly claimed a fighter and two bombers in a single combat [60, pp. 171–82]. Austin’s ‘Three men’ chapter in his Fighter Command recounted the exploits of McKellar, Sergeant Josef and Nicolson VC, being sufficiently detailed to confirm the drama of combat [13, ch. 14]. A series of BBC radio broadcasts discussed previously and published as Winged Words featured some coverage of pilots’ experiences [11]. David Masters’ So Few included chapters about the fighter pilots’ combat experiences that featured Bader, Malan, Pilot Officer Kenneth Mackenzie, Deere, Stephen, Pilot Officer George Bennions, Grice, Crossley and McKellar. Confirming the Few’s celebrity, the chapter on Deere concluded, In the roll of Squadron No. 54, whose fearless fighter pilots helped to bear the brunt of the Battle of Britain and did so much to break the German morale, the name of Squadron Leader A.C. Deere, D.F.C. and Bar, bears an honoured place. His valour has destroyed seventeen German aircraft and added to the glory of the Royal Air Force and to the pride of New Zealand. [58, p. 191] Ten Fighter Boys – drawing upon recollections begun in November – sought to commit the reflections of pilots from 19 Squadron who as the first to receive Spitfires, saw action during the Battle, their accounts of air combat typical of RAF-approved publications. These men, whose real names were not revealed, were Duggie, Durex, Jimmy, Bob, Max, Dizzy, Athol, Bogle, Pickle and Claude, of whom the latter three had been killed by the time of publication in 1942. Dealing with such loss was difficult; an editor’s note simply stated that: ‘Claude was posted as missing over Holland shortly after he finished these lines, but not before realising his dream of ‘‘having another crack,’’ for he finished off two 109’s before he himself ‘‘bought it’’ ’ [31, p. 170]. Pilots might additionally be the subjects of wartime biographical accounts where personal friendships provided sufficient material for publication. Bolitho’s Combat Report, a portrayal of the anonymous Flight Lieutenant John Simpson, was based upon personal letters between the two throughout the first years of the war, the latter’s graphic descriptions of air combats not unlike those

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in single-authored books [18]. Here, given the challenges of finding time to commit one’s experiences to paper in the heat of combat, and the censorship constraints imposed on letters, it is possible that Bolitho – who worked for the AM – simply used this as a device for crafting Simpson’s first-hand reminiscences as an effective narrative. Simpson, who survived the war, seemingly had the opportunity to collaborate with Bolitho when posted to staff duties during 1941, returning to combat in late 1942. Penned by young fighter pilots who had joined to fight, not write, aside from Hillary’s book the above accounts have not stood the test of time; they were never intended to and are best read as contemporary ‘of the moment’ records that simply fleshed out the broad amount of coverage already available. Other memoirs by the Few appeared in large numbers after the war [for example: 112; 170; 270; 313; 343], amongst the last of these published by Pilot Officer Geoffrey Wellum [351]; the partially autobiographical account by Flying Officer Peter Brown was principally about Dowding’s post-Battle treatment [137]. RAF poetry and the fighter pilots In contrast with their First World War counterparts, the quality of much work produced between 1939 and 1945 has not withstood critical scrutiny, but it would be misleading to suggest that there were no valuable contributions. Vernon Scannell’s survey of military poets during the Second World War is notable in part for the fact that no minor or major poets served with the RAF [320, p. 167]. Calder believes that inspiration was a key factor, with few poets in uniform experiencing anything as dramatic and important as the Battle [145, p. 518]. It would be misleading, however, to say that RAF personnel did not write poems, but undeniably, little was of real literary value [320, p. 167]. An anthology including RAF-related wartime poetry tends to bear this out [162], but Magee’s poetry, discussed below, is worthy of careful consideration. Few, if any, of the Few wrote poetry, or at least that appeared in print during wartime. Of the pilots’ memoirs discussed, none included verse even where time to recover from injuries and reflection made this possible. Little enough appeared after the war and it was perhaps a medium that appealed less to fighter pilots. Scannell suggests that young men attracted by machines and flying were seemingly less inclined to the arts, but it would be misleading to suggest that no airmen engaged in poetry or reading [320, p. 167]. Great War poet Robert Graves speaking on wireless in 1941, opined that little could be expected of the RAF in terms of war poetry, there being a dichotomy between the poetic subtlety required on the one part, and the technological nature of flight on the other – as represented for example, by the internal combustion engine [145, pp. 518–19]. On readiness for many hours a day from first light, stressful combat sorties, fatigued, and in close confines with squadron colleagues, the crafting of good-quality poetry would be challenging. Sleep, and ‘letting off steam’ in the

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pub, with attentive young ladies, was a more certain and appealing prospect. Active fighter pilots with such inclinations and ability would struggle to be able to relax enough for reflection and composition to take effect [320, p. 167] – the result was little or no published poetry. More widely, examples of broadly relevant material were still few from other serving pilots, perhaps in part because material published in journals such as Punch probably required clearance if only at the squadron level. For example, Pilot Officer O.C. Chave published several poems where his role as a flying instructor enabled him to write poetry, an activity likely to be difficult otherwise. His ‘From a Sergeant Pilot’ was a single, intense verse appearing in the 3 July’s Punch and talked of blasting ‘Hell’s spawn from heaven’s skies’ (see frontispiece) [452, p. 11]. Chave, doubtless anxious by September to return to operational flying, also contributed ‘The Flying Instructor’s Lament’ in which he persuaded himself of the vital role in training fighter pilots to fly effectively, so that – as captured in his ‘From a Sergeant Pilot’ – the Luftwaffe were utterly destroyed by Fighter Command’s growing prowess [461, p. 294]. Less powerfully, in response to the furore over the ‘red cross’ status of Luftwaffe rescue boats picking up downed airmen, Chave also wrote ‘Query’ in which he poured scorn on German propaganda when it sought to argue for the right to roam freely in British airspace in the interests of air-sea rescue. Chave simply pointed out that it was the Luftwaffe’s hard luck that they faced both a resolute RAF and the Channel, and that they should simply accept it in good grace [460, p. 279]. His final offering in Punch was the ‘Passing of a Hurricane’, a light-hearted six-verse tribute to the prowess of a fighter recently in combat, but now reduced to being carried in a dismembered state on a lorry. Lest the reader be moved to sadness by such a fate, Chave was quick to restore morale by conjuring up the throaty presence of a squadron of Hurricanes heading into battle [468, p. 500]. Having returned to operational flying Chave was shot down in 1943. Few other RAF poets appear to have been active. ‘12.8.40’, written by Sergeant Pilot E. Linmar – again not one of the Few – reflected his inner peace and acceptance of his likely fate in just four lines of verse. Presciently anticipating his untimely end, he resolved to enjoy the moments he had. Movingly, Linmar was ‘posted missing’ the following day [322, pp. 180–1]. Two post-Battle RAF poets were affected by the Few, and it is to these that reference can be made for broadly relevant poetry. RAFVR Squadron Leader John Pudney had attended school with W.H. Auden and Benjamin Britten, and was a poet, fiction writer, dramatist and journalist who just before the war worked for the BBC as a writer and producer – thereafter, he was a news correspondent for the News Chronicle. A serving officer from 1940 to 1945, he was not one of the Few, and had been taken off an RAF Coastal Command senior IO’s course by Saunders to work for him in the DPR’s PR11, soon after its creation in 1941. In addition to poetry Pudney wrote various paperbacks for the MOI/HMSO

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paperback series, including the official account of The Air Battle of Malta [73*; 230, pp. 33–5]. His Dispersal Point featured collected poems, some relevant to the Battle, if only through contextual resonance and association by others [73]. Pudney’s 1941 ‘For Johnny’ featured in the 1945 The Way to the Stars, and at the time enjoyed a similar level of fame as Brooke’s ‘Soldier’ [145, p. 521; 162, p. 41]. The evocative ‘Missing’ similarly featured in the film and conveyed the impact of a colleague’s loss in an accurate manner for those obliged to bury their feelings [162, p. 37]. ‘Combat Report’ captured the drama of a tense, skilfully executed air duel, its almost schizophrenic dialogue reporting an engagement that was fought out below ‘nine-tenths cloud’, and ended in an aerial conflagration of the enemy’s aircraft and pilot (‘poor sod’) [97, p. 126]. Longmate confirms that of the ‘war poets’ only Pudney’s RAF poems achieved creditable popular success [253, p. 446]; a view shared by Calder who saw Pudney as a best-selling poet with semi-official RAF status as a poet, and who was able to project something of its operational prowess [145, p. 521]. In similar vein, Scannell is clear that although Pudney enjoyed much success during the war much of his output was shallow, his facile verse lacking appeal to modern readers [320, p. 168]. Tellingly, during the war Sir Philip Joubert was asked to write a foreword to one volume of Pudney’s poetry but refused, believing he could do better himself – Saunders as head of PR11 was furious at Joubert’s response, and arranged for the book to be published commercially [230, p. 33]. Poetic authenticity remains essential for convincing war verse, only genuinely achievable through the bitter experiences of battle at first-hand. Pudney’s modest post-war stature reflects the realities for warrior-poets not attaining immortality through death in war in the manner of the Great War poets, and to a lesser extent Richard Hillary for the reasons given above. Hillary’s death during training was mitigated by his previously being almost killed in combat, an unacknowledged ace and his dogged determination to return operational flying. Immortality through death applied similarly to Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, his magisterial ‘High Flight’, written on 3 September 1941 ranking as one of the best-known war poems. Although not about combat as such, its resonance and quality surpassed any of Pudney’s poems, confirming that for sheer inspiration there was nothing quite like cloud-scudding in a Spitfire at ‘30,000 feet’ during which he completed it:

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

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I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless falls of air. Up, up the long delirious, burning blue I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace, Where never lark, or even eagle flew – And while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. [106, p. xi] Magee, an American, lived in Britain from 1931 to 1939, before moving to America. From there, and inspired by the Few, he was inducted into the RCAF on 10 October as the Battle raged, but although he must have keenly followed its progress, he took no part in it. Having only recently become a member of 412 Squadron RCAF based at Digby following training, he died in a mid-air accident flying a Spitfire on 11 December 1941. ‘High Flight’ had been enclosed in a letter to his parents, and his father, a Rector in Washington DC, published it in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette; the poem was then permanently exhibited at and more widely distributed by the Library of Congress. Later during the war, the poem was included on a poster with an image both of Magee and a Spitfire, and circulated to all airfields in Britain and the Commonwealth [251, pp. 23–7]. At this point its use by the RAF was clearly formal, and it appeared in a 1943 volume of poetry, More Poems from the Forces [48]. ‘High Flight’ has since come to symbolise the Battle (notably the ‘burning blue’), and its resonance with the air fighting [106]. As for Magee’s inspiration, Nigel Rees notes that the pilot-poet’s original words are strikingly reminiscent of Oscar Wilde’s lines as prefixed to his Poems (Paris edition, 1903), this concluding with ‘Surely there was a time I might have trod/The sunlit heights, and from life’s dissonance/Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God’ [305]. Magee’s 1941 ‘Per Ardua’ is less well known, the circumstances of its being made public uncertain. Given the recentness of the Battle concluded only months earlier, it is hard not to read it as a powerful tribute to the Few and to reflect on Magee’s sense of what would be required in combat, and his concern to live up to the standards they set. Magee captured the spirit of those who had fought and died high over England, some staining the earth with their blood. He took courage from such prowess and courage, imagining himself guided and inspired by their steadying, yet laughing presence [162, p. 7]. Not as moving as ‘High Flight’, it nevertheless gave a sense of how young pilots must have felt in seeking to emulate the Few’s example. With hindsight it is to be regretted that there were not amongst the 2917 men of the Few, at least one or two who were able to capture the essence of the Battle in the manner achieved by Hillary through his prose. Given the quality of his extant poetry it is also a matter for regret that Magee did not take part in the Battle itself, for he – uniquely among his pilot peers – might have

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matched Hillary’s The Last Enemy through his verse. Considerably more poetry of differing standards has been written about the Few since the war’s end, where as an evocative subject rich in symbolism, heroism and sacrifice it continues to inspire, but there is no denying that the pilot-poets such as Magee had the real power to move the reader through verse that reflected the experiences of cloud-scudding and being at one with the elements. Fighter Command and the Battles of France and Britain War correspondents’ reports and reflections from the Battle of France during May and June set the tone for subsequent press-related accounts of the Battle. These were heavily censored and rather thin on substantive detail when compared to post-war assessments regarding tactics, technology and the grim nature of combat but gave some insights into the demands of the air war, the pilots and the conditions under which they fought. Three accounts from the Battle of France are noteworthy, produced by correspondents embedded with fighter and bomber squadrons, until RAF arrangements were changed for access to pilots and censorship. They differed greatly in content from the more generalised accounts produced by correspondents’ not in close contact with the RAF, discussed below, not least because (until RAF constraints were imposed) they often got to know the fighter pilots and were able to experience their work from the airfield and in later informal discussions with them. The accounts were also inevitably weighted in favour of the RAF, and not shy in proclaiming their prowess in what was at times raw propaganda. BBC correspondent Charles Gardner’s A.A.S.F. appeared in the autumn, his focus the RAF’s role during the Battle of France. He was still writing it after Churchill’s ‘to so few’ speech on 20 August [33, p. 240]. The Phoney War consumed much of the narrative, derived from BBC broadcast scripts, but it was not until the German attacks against France that Gardner had any ‘real’ news to report, and then only fleetingly because of severe RAF reporting restrictions. In the main, Gardner’s text revealed the RAF’s concern to preserve individual anonymity, an immutable issue if broadcasts were to be cleared, and an approach only changed with the publication of his book several months after France’s defeat. As a conclusion, ‘Dunkirk and after’ gave some consideration to the developing Battle, but at the time of writing he was not in a position to assess its full implications [33, pp. 233–41]. Gardner’s slightly later BBC role involved him in eyewitness reportage of air battles; the most famous broadcast on 14 July, following his recording at Dover – thereafter he flew with the RAF. Squadrons Up! by the Mail’s Noel Monks first published in November, described his experiences with 1 and 73 Squadrons, both flying Hurricanes, also during the Battle of France until June, and Dunkirk [62]. This was a detailed if censored account of the RAF’s pilots and combats, many individuals named in photographs and their exploits portrayed. The roots of the RAF’s cult of

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the ‘warrior-hero’ in books at least are arguably to be found here, especially where pilots died during combat or accidents. Monks’ book is dedicated to New Zealander E.J. ‘Cobber’ Kain, the RAF’s first ‘ace’ in the war against Hitler [62, p. 15], giving attention to his combats in addition to those of fellow pilots in both squadrons within which he was engaged. Gardner confirmed this assessment in that New Zealand’s citizens became increasingly aware of his prowess despite the fact that he was still anonymous, the media only acknowledging him as a 21-year-old from New Zealand [33, p. 96]. Kain thus became the first to attract the attention of the press, a human face and name always better copy than anonymity, but progress was to be slow in persuading the AM about the merits of such an approach. Monks concluded his book by addressing briefly the Battle, suggesting that it began on 18 June, progressed into attacks against cities and had been firmly decided by winter 1940 [62, pp. 244–56]. He completed it during an air raid, German bombs dropping indiscriminately with military targets virtually the only sites untouched [62, p. 250]. This recalls Orwell’s introduction to his The Lion and the Unicorn in which he too found the juxtaposition of writing during an air raid (August to October) a curious one, highly-civilised people flying overhead and intent on death and destruction [69, p. 35]. However, Monks was less charitable, perhaps reflecting his recent experiences in France. In his view the Nazis, unable to defeat the RAF, had turned against civilian targets but would come to regret their folly as the fighter pilot sons of those being bombed avenged them [62, p. 251]. Sir John Squire wrote a full-page review of the book in the ILN, and concluded it by anticipating the accounts likely to be written about the Battle, a view fully justified by its massive post-war historiography [516, p. 688]. A third book to cover the RAF in France by a British correspondent, Arthur Narracott’s War News had Wings was based upon his experiences with the RAF’s fighters and bombers in France [67]. The Times’ Air Correspondent affirmed the dedication and gallantry of pilots, whom despite being outnumbered and very fatigued, continued to oppose German attacks. In addition to reporting the parlous state of Paris before it fell, his account charted the RAF’s battles with the Luftwaffe during their defensive role in the Dunkirk evacuation. Inevitably, it is similar in tone to Gardner and Monks’ accounts, all three able to delineate a clear air war fought out in close concert with the ground fighting. This was less easy for those writing about the subsequent Battle, where for example, the News Chronicle’s aviation correspondent Ronald Walker wrote Flight to Victory, published in December, as a journalistic account of the RAF’s role during the first year of war [98]. Partly based upon his experiences in France, it also considered Bomber and Coastal Command’s roles. Walker addressed the broad development of the Battle in his final four chapters, providing a by now predictable assessment of the Few’s prowess [98, pp. 91–119]. The RAF’s aircraft, pilots and defensive capability against the Luftwaffe were discussed, as were the

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main features of the Battle including the attack on London. Although ‘immediate’ in the sense of details and conclusions, it too anticipated subsequent historical appraisals, the text reporting events to 30 November at which point no clear strategic conclusion had been reached [98, pp. 87–126]. He gave tables of RAF claims from 1 August to 30 November, and the RAF’s fighter losses [98, pp. 124–7]. Good quality ‘official photographs’ portrayed fighters and pilots. Not focused upon direct experiences with RAF squadrons, The Sky’s the Limit by James Spaight, a former senior civil servant in the AM, was first published in August and assessed the RAF’s air power and role effectiveness in all commands, and the Empire’s importance, in addition to aircraft production, training and support. The Battle was addressed as part of a wider treatment, but a large part of the book was unavoidably concerned with the interwar and earlier war periods, the majority of its text written well before the summer of 1940 [87]. Andrew Edgerton describes Spaight as a leading British air war propagandist [185, p. 276]. Following reprints in September, October and November, the text was only modestly revised to reflect the Battle’s significance by May 1941 [87, ch. 7]. The R.A.F. in Action, in November, covered its role during the first year of the war, featuring mostly official photographs of Fighter Command pilots and aircraft, with some text by an RAF officer in the AM’s DPR on the various RAF Commands. It may have been aimed at older teenage boys, shortly becoming eligible for military service. Also appearing soon after the Battle in November, Their Finest Hour included accounts of RAF fighter combats in the Battle within a wider collection of the ‘people’s war’ [60]. The first significant assessment of the daylight air war concluded only seven months previously, The Battle of Britain 1940 published in May 1941, also by James Spaight, portrayed both Fighter and Bomber Command during the period of the Battle, and the wider context of the German blockade, Blitz, invasion plans, ‘the slaughter of the Stukas’ and RAF’s attacks Germany [88]. Lord Trenchard provided the foreword to what was in some respects a valuable assessment of the Battle. Coverage of the air fighting was not dissimilar to treatments elsewhere in the press and other published sources, its principal interest an early account denoting the air war during 1940 as a significant part of a broader ‘Battle of Britain’, that was continuing to unfold. Spaight drew upon newspaper articles – notably the Telegraph and Times – and made use of AM ‘bulletins’ or communiqu´es for his material. Its chronology followed the broad key phases including a chapter entitled ‘The Few who saved the many’, a repeat of the adulation seen during later 1940 [88, ch. 3]. For those willing to read it, the book was an alternate version of the chronological approach to be found in the AM pamphlet, but for most the latter – much cheaper version – would have sufficed. Added value was though offered through perspectives on the threat of invasion by sea, night defence against the Blitz and the Germans’ overall conduct. It was nevertheless a striking and ambitious attempt to place the Battle in context,

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and provided far more detail than the AM pamphlet that had preceded it by only a couple of months. Author and journalist A.B. Austin was placed on Dowding’s staff at Fighter Command in the rank of Wing Commander to organise the gathering of news for distribution to the media and outside world. Given access to secrets and daily battle reports, his work appeared as Fighter Command in June 1941, some 50 per cent of the book focused upon the Battle itself [13, chs 8–13]. Dowding drew upon it in the writing of his Battle of Britain despatch in 1941 [29, para. 194, p. 4549], but despite this James questions whether Austin contributes more in his large volume than the official 1941 AM pamphlet [230, pp. 116–17]. ‘Blake’s’ (actually RAF officer R. Adams’) semi-documentary Readiness at Dawn – October 1941 – gave a clear, readable, if censored picture of life with an RAF fighter squadron during the Battle, with 16 photographs [17]. A racy read, it added colour and drama to the reader’s sense of what it must be like to pilot a fighter, and to a degree supplemented earlier media coverage of the Few. Charles Graves’ 1941 The Thin Blue Line was similarly semi-documentary in nature, following the fortunes of six pilot trainees who progressed from initial training to operational flying, either on bombers or fighters [37]. It served as a useful guide for those contemplating or about to join the RAF. An enjoyable read, it nevertheless ranged across many topics of keen interest such as selection processes, initial and later flying training, relations between officers and men, what it was like to fly and fight operationally and when off duty, opportunities for romance. Several RAF cine-gun stills were included showing aircraft being hit, some difficult to identify despite captions. Longmate confirms that it was an immensely popular book during the war [253, p. 442]. Other relevant publications with a broader content than the Battle itself – this addressed in some detail – included AM employee David Garnett’s 1941 War in the Air [35, ch. 12], and also that year, Arthur Narracott’s How the R.A.F. Works, various articles the basis for a wide-ranging discussion of all of the RAF’s war activities, organisation, training and structure – he addressed the Battle in ‘Fighters at Work’ [66, ch. 4]. The recollections of an RAF IO were conveyed in Cloud Cover, his duties beginning with Beaufort crews in Kent as the Battle began to peter out [14, ch. 1]. There is much of relevance in it for an understanding of the RAF in 1940, and Barnes worked with several of the Few. Flight lieutenant Rom Landau’s popular The Wing relayed his factual confessions of an RAF officer, by a pre-war author who worked briefly in a northern sector fighter operations room, about which he provided a useful account and is mostly memorable for his deep frustration at not being able to get nearer to the thick of the action [51]. He recalled other aspects of his training as an air-gunner and work with a Polish bomber squadron. Written during the war, his deep appreciation for the RAF’s warriors is beyond question. The foregoing confirms that attempts were made to offer wartime assessments of the Battle both by officially sponsored but also serving authors. The net result

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was that throughout the war years a steady stream of books giving informed details about aspects of the Battle were released, these progressively consolidating (and mythicising) its place as a significant moment in British history – and crucially, the prowess of the pilots responsible. It should not be forgotten that the majority of these accounts relied upon the willingness of the AM, RAF and censors to allow publication both of reports at the time, but also in book form, and there is little doubt that both the AM and RAF were well aware of the propaganda opportunities these presented.

Unofficial propaganda Reporting the air war A number of reporters’ newspaper accounts were later published as collections in books, though usually one or two years after the events described. Frequently, the Battle featured as one dimension of a much larger war context including the pre-war tensions, Battle of France, Dunkirk, the home front and the Blitz into 1941. The coverage was rarely as detailed as the material produced by embedded ‘official’ British correspondents or serving personnel working with the RAF, as above, but details of air combats were frequent, as were reactions to the Few’s successes. Dover was a major focal point for reporters regularly congregating on Shakespeare Cliff, this location giving excellent views across to the castle (beyond which could clearly be seen the radar masts), town and harbour, over which air fights were a frequent occurrence. Picture Post even carried an article about Dover entitled ‘How the U.S. watches the war’ [447, pp. 24–7]. Monks confirmed the easy accessibility of the dogfights, where for a few shillings you could take the train to Dover from London, ‘Hell’s Corner’ a superb lookout point for correspondents from around the world [62, p. 245]. Ben Robertson similarly viewed Shakespeare Cliff as a perfect, captivating stage setting, the press from the entire democratic world assembled on it [78, pp. 84–5]. Early aerial clashes were initially fought over Channel convoys in July and earlier August, but changed in nature as the Luftwaffe began to target inland RAF sites. British reportage in books by the Daily Herald correspondent Reginald Foster [32], and the Kent Messenger editor H.R. Pratt Boorman conveyed the dangerous yet exhilarating nature of dogfights, both including photographs of crashed aircraft, dogfights and the damage wrought [72]. Hilde Marchant’s book confirmed her impressive work for the Express focusing upon Dover, Kent and the later London Blitz; in a moment of high praise, Marchant herself was described by Ben Robertson as being not unlike an earthbound Spitfire! [55; 155, p. 232]. Less successfully, newspaper reporter Basil Woon described the first two weeks of the London Blitz, but this material had not previously been published [102]; M-O’s Tom Harrisson cited it as an example of poor wartime writing (a view it is hard to disagree with) [247, p. xiii].

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American correspondents were widely active and they later proved invaluable in conveying sympathetic accounts of Britain’s plight. CBS correspondent Ed Murrow’s regular wireless broadcasts to his American audience were later published and he reported on the Battle at first hand [65]. William Shirer, CBS’s European correspondent, published his diary having similarly spent the months during the Battle in Berlin [85]. This proved to be enormously successful, giving the German perspective of their air war against Britain. Quentin Reynolds reported for the American publication Collier’s Weekly, becoming famous for his narration of several MOI ‘shorts’, also the subject of his book [76]. Two reporters writing for the PM newspaper provided valuable coverage of the Battle and Blitz: Ralph Ingersoll was its founder [46], whilst Ben Robertson’s book included similar material [78]. Cull confirms that in America during 1941, Robertson, Murrow and Shirer’s books were best-seller successes in that autumn [167, p. 176]. American freelance reporter Vincent Sheean’s account of his reporting during the Battle is notable for the style of his sometimes-anguished prose, and his undisguised appreciation of the RAF’s Spitfire: ‘The flash of the Spitfire’s wing, then, through the misty glare of the summer sky, was the first flash of a sharpened sword; they would fight, they would hold out’ [84, p. 159]. American war correspondent Virginia Cowles, writing for the New York Herald Tribune reported from Dover, but had the opportunity to meet 601 Squadron fighter pilots and aircrew. She recounted meeting one young pilot: ‘He was a painfully shy young man . . . He was wearing the D.F.C. and I was told he had shot down eleven planes’ [23, p. 425]. Her visit included a visit to a house used by pilots as a Mess, her account somewhat startling in its honesty and ability to move the reader: ‘I couldn’t get over how young they were – little boys with blonde hair and pink cheeks who looked as though they ought to be in school. I sat staring at them as though they were slightly unreal: these were the men who were saving England’ [23, p. 426]. Both during the Battle and in writing retrospectively, British reporters could be relied upon to effusively praise and laud the Few – later books were simply a repetition of the tone and adulation daily published in the front-page headlines. Many of the included photographs of downed German fighters and bombers, along with POWs, spoke volumes. There is little doubt that as the Battle progressed US correspondents and reporters developed a deep respect for the RAF; and all the more remarkable in some instances given several Americans’ initial hostility to much that Britain and her Empire stood for. Had the fighting gone against the British a different story may have developed, but the AM in allowing American reporters controlled access to the fighter pilots was an inspired decision. Cowles’ comment on the impact of meeting those young men was revealing: these, after all, were the pilots who were beating the Luftwaffe Goliath, and they were no different to young Americans who might find themselves similarly engaged in flying fighters. Written with the benefit of

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hindsight, American correspondents’ accounts were able to see perhaps more clearly the Battle’s strategic context in relation to what some had witnessed in Spain and as France fell. What distinguished the Battle was the RAF’s prowess: impressive young men flying streamlined aircraft into massed Luftwaffe formations, in defence of their homeland, and visible from the White Cliffs of Dover. Civilian poets and the fighter pilots Most ‘unofficial’ poems relating to the RAF appeared after its conclusion, usually in books. Few were published during the Battle itself, as for example, politician A.P. Herbert’s ‘These are the boys’, written on 28 July and published in his October Siren Song [43, p. 65]. Its two-verse, eight-line tribute was an example of the rapidly changed, adulatory perception of the ‘fighter boys’ as captured by those observing events from the sidelines. Herbert began by reminding the reader of interwar criticism of the current ‘long-haired’ generation now doing the fighting, where they were viewed with disdain and compared unfavourably with their fathers’ achievements. His second verse sharply reminded the reader that such views were well wide of the mark: falcon-like in their fighting abilities, he confirmed that these were the boys who were bringing down braces of enemy bombers to the intense relief of the public at large. Appreciative poems with some relevance to the RAF during the latter half of 1940 appeared from 1941 onwards. Sylvia Lynd’s ‘Ad Astra’, first featured in her R.A.F., May 1940 volume, but its recounting of valour and prowess was as relevant to the Battle as to the air war over France. Evoking ancient mythology, its central verse conjured up close parallels between the winged warriors Perseus and Bellerophon, those two managing to defeat monsters to heavenly acclaim [97, pp. 158–9]. Poet laureate John Masefield’s six-verse ‘A Young English Air-Man’ was first published in his The Nine Days Wonder concerning the Dunkirk evacuation, and is notable for his praise of the RAF; a not universally popular view in its immediate aftermath. Masefield compared the fighter pilots to sparrow hawks or swifts, their cheerful, sunburned countenances at odds with aerial combats during which they on occasion gave their lives, never again to witness an English June [56, p. 59; 97, p. 122]. This appreciation was in part explained by the redeeming nature of the RAF’s achievement during the Battle, Churchill’s attempts in June to correct the Army’s opinions and the time elapsed before Masefield wrote his verse. Future Poet Laureate Cecil Day Lewis’s ‘Airmen Broadcast’ was not published in his Poems in Wartime volume that included works written up to September, but it did appear in his Word All Over [26, p. 32]. Its Battle resonance is undeniable, the Few communicated through its first verse, their hunting prowess undeniable in their natural element the sky, where their rapid reactions, skill, kestrel-like vision and passion bore comparison with birds of prey. In 1969 he published a five-verse poem, The Battle of Britain, which acknowledged the misleadingly

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‘faked’ claims, media coverage and Few’s prowess and heroism. He spoke of ‘A tangle of vapour trails, a vertiginously high swarming of midges . . . ’ and later, ‘The tilting sky’ in which young men pushed themselves to the edge of their limits in deadly combat [117, p. 726; 298, p. 129]. Some poetry written during or soon after the Battle, but also focusing upon the RAF is difficult to date in terms of publication. The impact of loss on ‘the women who wait’ was revealed in H.M. Hunt’s ‘Breakfast’ [162, p. 11], where its middle verse captured the seemingly cold responses to death that proved necessary for continued resistance, with no comments made about the lost fighter pilot who had spun to earth seen by only one colleague. An upturned plate simply but powerfully symbolised his loss. J.H. Walter recounts Dover Wilson’s comment on Churchill’s famous epitaph and the Few who ‘left the vivid air signed with their honour’ [344, p. xxvii], the appropriation from Stephen Spender’s 1933 untitled poem both apt and justified. Edward Shanks’ ‘The Few’ appeared in a wartime issue of the Daily Sketch as a lengthy, four-part tribute to the RAF [126, p. 3]. These were: ‘Prelude’, ‘The fighter-pilot speaks (but not aloud)’, ‘Battle’ and ‘Triumphant threnody’. A somewhat ponderous tribute, it nevertheless conveyed the author’s adulation for the Few and their noble sacrifice in thwarting invasion [126, pp. 10–13]. He began by conjuring up an image of a Britain on its knees, hitherto unknown young men flinging themselves against a powerful enemy in ‘thistledown’ aircraft, yet managing to win decisively despite losses. He suggested Churchill’s ‘finest hour’, clouds as wreaths for the lost, and the unrepayable debt owed to such brave young flyers. Uniting the majority of these poems is the acknowledgment that the fighter pilots’ falcon-like prowess was an inspiration, the combination of aircraft, combat, flying and defending one’s homeland, rich material for poets. Although varying greatly in quality their collective resonance chimed strongly with the broader coverage of the Battle, the focus upon death in action more marked poetically than in usual prose accounts where death as an issue was perhaps more difficult to render without descending into morbidity. They strike a different chord to those poems written by serving aircrew, but their sense is broadly the same: they speak of loss, duty, valour and skill. Whether the ‘fighter boys’ would have appreciated them is another matter, but such poetry expressed the feelings of many non-combatants.

Inspiring the young --- official and unofficial publications The children’s market was a significant one, a fact not lost on RAF propagandists concerned to recruit teenage boys as they neared the legal age; for example, Geoffrey Wellum joined when he was 17, and was flying Spitfires operationally during the Battle aged 18. The exploits of the RAF made for superb stories in books, comics and other media where a 14-year-old boy in 1940 would be

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eligible to fly by 1944, as many did. A range of children’s books were published from mid-1940 onwards, both fiction and non-fiction, and aimed at different age groups and interests [180; 288, ch. 6]. In the main, the RAF’s wartime support for this market was modest and it is difficult to identify those books directed at the late-teenage market, from those for 18-year-old adult recruits. For example, The Royal Air Force was published in September, its coverage embracing all of the key combat commands, in addition to the FAA, Army co-operation and pilot training [90*]. Little attention was given to the Battle, its outcome far from clear as the book went to press. In some respects it repeated the broad themes of Squadron Leader Stanhope Sprigg’s earlier volume on the RAF [90]. The R.A.F. in Action discussed previously, contained mostly photographs (Plates 3, 10, 12, 13, 16, 20), a focus upon the Few inevitable in a book published just after the Battle, but significant attention was given to other aspects of the RAF, including both flying and ground roles [101]. Taking Off ! achieved a similar purpose as a general introduction, addressing both the RAF and FAA, prospective recruits left in little doubt both as to the stringent requirements, but also in belonging to an elite service [63]. Containing mostly photographs, some were pre-war but the overall effect was clear. Clearly acknowledged as a major strand of recruitment without the need for amplification, Spitfires predominated in text and images. It would have served as a useful introductory text for new recruits, as might With the RAF in the same series and style [64]. As for the Battle’s history, David Garnett abridged the AM’s original pamphlet, which was published by Puffin as a picture book of 32 pages, with both colour and black & white drawings by James Gardner (Plate 23) [34]. It included several diagrams, various impressions of dogfights and an operations room. The abridged text included aircraft, organisations (including a reference to ‘radiolocation’, not mentioned in the official account), the command and control system, how the RAF attacked enemy formations, the broad phases of the Battle, the places attacked including London, ‘The Greatest Day’ and ‘Victory to the R.A.F.’ This sold well in Britain and America, giving a clear and rousing account of the RAF’s victory, its final sentence: ‘Never was so much owed by so many to so few.’ Post-war children’s accounts of the Battle confirm that the content between wartime and later publications did not differ greatly: a similar picture book published in 1969 (that captivated the author as a boy) included the aircraft used, the defensive system, the phases of attack, Eagle Day, the pilots, 15 September and also concluded with Churchill’s full epigraph [246]. Fighter Command’s exploits were easily translated into the verve and drama of a more omnipresent fictional warrior-heroism, of strong appeal to younger boys. Most would be familiar with the dashing Spitfire and Hurricane pilots and their deadly foe the ‘nasty Hun’. RFC pilot, Captain W.E. Johns was responsible for two important characters, the Bigglesworth character – shortened to the universally known ‘Biggles’ – initially famed for his RFC exploits in the Great War,

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but later reappearing during the Battle through his creator’s reworking of earlier plots [180, pp. 180–3; 288, p. 201]. Johns’ enormously popular Spitfire Parade [237] a selection of rousing tales of derring-do strained the author’s technical knowledge of the current war, and grasp of RAF slang [288, p. 201]. A difficult challenge, Owen Dudley Edwards suggests that Johns’ fictional accounts were configured by his experiences in 1918, a factor that resulted in Biggles’ Battle experiences being essentially fought as part of the Great War [180, p. 184]. As for the story plots, Biggles commanded the menacing-sounding ‘666 Squadron’, which tasked with special operations, made a major contribution to its outcome despite his tricky relations with senior officers, and an RAF becoming less classconscious. The stories were racy and fairly accurate on the details of aircraft and combats, the book’s tone reflecting the broad thrust of prevailing propaganda about the Few, though ‘666 Squadron’ is difficult to imagine as a coherent fighting unit. Another Johns’ fictional creation – in response apparently to a request from the AM to improve female recruitment – was ATA officer Joan Worralson, a ferry pilot [288, p. 210]. ‘A hen amongst the eagles’ described one self-deprecatingly female pilot’s view of that role when delivering a Tiger Moth trainer biplane to the RAF [220, p. 154]. They were nevertheless a glamorous and well-heeled elite – the attractive and well-groomed ATA pilot Maureen Dunlop was Picture Post’s cover girl on 16 September 1944 – and eventually permitted to fly fighters and large bombers as non-combatants. Despite this restriction on combat, and also confronted with male chauvinism, Worrals herself progressively engaged with the enemy [288, pp. 210–12]. Worrals’ first appearance in Girl’s Own Paper occurred in October, leading rapidly to her book debut in Worrals of the WAAF [180, pp. 184–5]. Whilst in some respects the female counterpart to Biggles, Worrals’ more defiant attitude set her apart from Johns’ earlier creation. Between them they added considerable colour to an already highly propagandised aspect of Britain’s fight for survival. Similar fictitious Battle action heroes included a creation of R.S. Bowen, in Dave Dawson with the RAF, an American character inspired by the muchpublicised Eagle Squadron [288, p. 215], and Percy Westerman’s Flying Officer Basil Hazletyne of the RAF, whose contribution appeared in Fighting for Freedom [288, pp. 198–9]. More widely, many boys’ annuals had featured tributes to the Few, of which the verse published in Young Airman’s Annual is typical. Here, a poem by J. Gordon Robinson entitled ‘To the Few’ linked freedom, pride, determination and the Empire as important dimensions of the air war [288, p. 202]. Less triumphal, Richmal Crompton’s Just William was initially published in various editions of The Happy Mag and later, Modern Woman [180, pp. 175–80; 165, pp. vii–xii]. Crompton was able to observe RAF personnel at close hand whilst working in the local Toc H Canteen, near Biggin Hill airfield but made little use of this first-hand experience in her stories [165, p. viii]. Although not directly involved in the Battle, William Brown’s incomparably disruptive

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brilliance ensured that he made a unique war contribution to the Spitfire Fund, rendered safe a ‘bomb’, and caught a spy [165]; occasionally, he and the Outlaws were also able to mingle with the god-like men of the RAF who daily brought down German bombers [165, p. 132]. It is difficult given the sheer range of wartime material published for children and teenagers to identify clear trends for presenting the Battle. The material produced for young adults aimed – successfully it can be argued – to entice potential recruits into the RAF and went some way to preparing them for what they would shortly experience. What was striking was the limited focus upon the difficult issues raised by death and injury during combat. Scarcely featuring even in adult-oriented books, this was hardly surprising but for a generation of boys growing up in the shadow of the Battle it may have contributed to their sense of a glorious RAF victory that had been achieved with little actual loss. Nothing could have been further from the truth of course, but young minds intoxicated by the verve of the Spitfire and its dashing warrior-hero pilots could be forgiven for leaving aside the less attractive realities of warfare.

Post-war historiography If journalism is the first rough draft of history, then it is no surprise that the British media’s wartime coverage of the Few during and after the Battle laid the foundations for its subsequent historiography. The introduction discussed the broad themes in relation to the thwarted Sea Lion. It falls to the winner of a conflict to write the prevailing version of events, the loser rendered impotent. The historiography is a powerful testament to this hard truth, based upon numerous wartime books that made direct reference to the Battle as a significant victory. This confirms George Boyce’s view that: ‘It is not only generals who fight the last war, historians do so as well’ [129, p. 6]. Numerous books have been written about the Battle since the conclusion of the Second World War, but few by German historians [128; 244; 258, pp. 374–407; 258]. Most British historical assessments have drawn upon earlier works in their delineation of the campaign, many discussed above. Wartime books setting it within a wider strategic context have been significant in shaping perceptions, where for example, Air Power and Civilisation provided a substantial historical assessment of the aeroplane from its creation, through to the 1940 air war, the Battle considered in some detail based upon the AM’s official account [25, pp. 133–41]. Broader coverage of the strategic air war appeared in The Coming Battle of Germany [103, pp. 38–45] and The Rise and Fall of the Luftwaffe [44, pp. 124–29]: both set the Battle within the context of a major strategic defeat for the German Air Force, and were unavoidably triumphal in tone. Early post-war Battle historiography could not easily avoid such powerful propaganda, and continued the broad, largely settled themes established by the AM

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and media during 1940. In a nation that had suffered greatly in its determination to defeat Hitler, there was little opportunity following the war to step back and consider the full range of evidence from both sides, and particularly Luftwaffe aircraft losses. Bungay argues that the 30-year rule concerning the release of British secret documents limited historians’ scope for an objective assessment that only expired from 1972 onwards [142, pp. 427–30]. Despite this, historians during the 1950s and early 60s were able to access secret AM material held by the AHB and other official sources. Of key importance, this material included a wartime narrative by T.C.G. James on the Battle that has proved highly influential, not least because it was the most thorough official, day-by-day account available for many years [235]. James’ work was based substantially on RAF documents, combat reports and operational records, and suggested a phasing in addition to including appendices that gave a fuller account of assets, air combats, commanders’ instructions, Orders of Battle and related information. The narrative retains a freshness of approach, but it also seeks to offer early assessments of German views of the Battle, the claims controversy, and how significant the air war appeared to be during the war itself. Post-war treatments began with Dowding’s ‘The Battle of Britain’, which was submitted to the Secretary of State exactly a year after Churchill’s Commons’ tribute to the Few [29]. It was not, however, published until 1946, its delayed public appearance due to AM concerns about its sensitivity and their determination to restrict its circulation; this, despite Churchill’s prompting [284, p. 131]. Overy confirms that Dowding’s assessment was militarily far more valuable than the material presented in the AM pamphlet in 1941 (a publication about which Dowding was not invited to offer comments) [284, p. 131]. This considered and balanced piece, written by the principal architect of the air defence system, detailed the many facets of the air war, tactics, aircraft, defensive systems and challenges. Dowding suggested that the Battle was divided into four broad phases, but declined for the sake of a clear narrative to provide dates for each; he preferred instead to indicate ebbs and flows through daily RAF aircraft claims, which he began from July 1940. At the time of its publication it had inevitably become an unintended footnote to the war as a whole, but it remains valuable as a commander’s account of a crucial historical moment. After his first retirement in 1941 Dowding wrote an article about the Battle – subsequently published by the Sunday Chronicle – in which he was at least able to articulate some of his views [158, p. 237]. Of those books written after the war, Denis Richards’ was the first in a series of three officially commissioned in 1947, based in part upon Luftwaffe material [308]. Coverage of the Battle was a modest element of the RAF’s engagement in all Commands between 1939 and 1941, but it remains valuable as an insight into the available documentation, where he worked within the official chronology. Also impressive was Basil Collier’s volume, a similarly focused study –

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hitherto not attempted – in a series of officially commissioned histories, and again benefiting from access to secret AM papers [159]. Collier acknowledged the 10 July start for the Battle, but argued that many other dates were equally relevant. More valuably for an accurate understanding of the ‘cricket scores’ furore, Hough & Richards confirm that Collier used Luftwaffe Quartermaster General aircraft loss returns that provided a more accurate picture [227, p. 370]. Understandably, when first revealed these accurate figures came as a shock to the public, and were certainly a disappointment to the Few [227, pp. 310–11]. Four years later, Wood & Dempster’s assessment was the first notable attempt to consider the Battle via a day-by-day chronology, with a focus upon aircraft losses [356]. They too drew upon the originally secret AM account written by James’ suggested phasing, and the Luftwaffe Quartermaster General’s returns. Dowding was highly impressed and confirmed in his foreword that it was the best book he had read on the subject – high praise indeed [356, p. iv]. Telford Taylor’s book is as relevant for its coverage of the air war as it is for the German Sea Lion plans and the politico-strategic background to 1940 [340]. An American army IO, he drew upon German documents for his book and came at the subject from a non-British perspective. Conversely, Mason’s monumental work, focusing in part upon daily aircraft losses on both sides was a remarkable achievement given the challenges of accessing accurate wartime records, and made use of James’ wartime AM narrative in its chronological approach but opted for 1 July as the start of the Battle [263]. John Terraine’s account of the RAF’s role in the 1939–1945 European war, although not an ‘official’ history, benefited from the support and guidance of AHB staff, and bears comparison with the earlier volumes by both Collier and Richards – strategically, it also placed the Battle in context [341]. Hough & Richards similarly drew upon a wide range of sources and perspectives, offering a broad analysis 50 years after it was fought, and its historiography had settled down [227]. They too made use of aircraft losses recorded by the Luftwaffe’s Quartermaster General, but these had been refined by further research to sharpen up their relevance. James’ wartime narrative was again used to inform the key phases, yet another reminder that the original historical analysis had retained its currency. Reflecting ongoing historical fascination with the Battle, an RAF Staff College symposium convened on 25 June 1990 to consider various aspects including the protagonists, intelligence, outcomes and strategic importance. Some of the Few contributed both papers and in discussions [299]. A spate of publications celebrating the 60th anniversary of the Battle looked afresh at its significance. Bungay’s book sought to consider the evidence of the myth, and built upon a substantial historiography, wherein, although drawing upon sources and evidence used previously by earlier historians, he interwove personal accounts of the fighting to provide a human dimension to the narrative [142]. Overy included sometimes-startling analyses of combat casualties,

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numbers and claims based upon primary sources and was determined to revisit the sources and arrive at a fresh assessment of the Battle [284]. As noted above, James’ The Battle of Britain is the reproduced AHB wartime narrative, and published as one of the series of RAF Official Histories [235]. Although the secret study was limited by a lack of accurate information about Luftwaffe losses, it remains an important contribution to the Battle’s historiography. Its chronology and content has informed all significant histories of the Battle since 1953 that had in turn been based upon wartime AM and RAF materials available to James. It is remarkable that it only appeared in 2000, a comment equally relevant to James’ companion volume about the growth of Fighter Command, that wartime narrative taking the reader up to the Battle itself [234]. In a marked step-change from more established histories, The Burning Blue in addition to the more traditional historical assessments focused upon foreign perspectives, children’s literature, film, commemoration and conservation [106]. What is striking is the continuing importance of the wartime propaganda in shaping historical perceptions about the brief air war concluded almost 70 years ago.

Conclusion

As I argued in the introduction, the Battle was an event in two dimensions. With or without the propaganda war that symbiotically mirrored the actual air fighting, Hitler’s decision concerning Sea Lion rested upon the perceived strength of the RAF, and the toll it was taking of the Luftwaffe. This does not diminish the practical outcomes of the propaganda war, for British propagandists were fully aware that German wireless audiences were largely ‘unreachable’ after such an impressive run of victories by their military machine. Matters were very different on the home front, and among friendly, neutral and occupied countries. British military and civilian morale was sustained to a high degree by the Few’s prowess, that in turn led to a massive industrial effort to increase military production, crucially in the output of fighter aircraft. It could be argued that the propaganda simply caught the public’s mood, the rapid transformation of the Battle into legend inevitable once the outcome was clear. In so doing this process did of course strongly echo earlier, famous victories – Agincourt, Marathon, Trafalgar, Waterloo, the Marne and Thermopylae. The wider Empire was similarly persuaded that Britain could hold out and oppressed countries took heart from the damage being inflicted on the Luftwaffe, and the fact that Hitler’s ambitions had been checked. Of crucial strategic importance, neutral countries found themselves having to revise initially pessimistic forecasts as to whether Britain could survive. One expression of this was Hitler’s failure to persuade Spain to enter the war against Britain; this would have placed the RN in a dangerous position had Hitler been allowed to establish airfields and naval bases at the narrow mouth of the Mediterranean. Moreover, progressively shifting American public opinion in favour of the British created the circumstances for support that developed during 1941, the earlier ‘destroyer deal’ a priceless propaganda opportunity for the British, even if the ships were of Great War vintage. The Anglo-American alliance also had implications for Japan’s ambitions in the Far East, and in its fraught relations with the Soviet Union. 311

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Control over the nature of this information was vested in the AM, and to a lesser extent the MOI. The communiqu´es and censorship were the twin pillars of the propaganda war, the sheer speed at which events were unfolding making it difficult to devise and work to a carefully thought out strategy. There was friction over the extent of censorship, but despite the sometimes-vacuous material released in AM communiqu´es it is striking that so much was made of it. Unfailingly, day after day, the press, BBC, newsreels and magazines dutifully disseminated the RAF’s aircraft claims figures, and also released what they could about the ‘fighter boys’ themselves. Given that the highly positive coverage owed much to the carefully weighed deceit in respect of aircraft claims on the part of the AM it was and remains, a remarkable achievement; a coalition of willing partners who, despite commercial concerns, and in some respects the need for impartiality (notably the BBC) made a significant contribution to sustaining morale and hope during the Battle. The fighter pilots were pivotal to the projection of the air war. Churchill’s resonant ‘to so few’ epigraph has memorably defined an elite whose prowess remains celebrated six decades after the Second World War. The cult of the warrior-hero became an important element of the propaganda war, the media demanding well before the Battle that the RAF’s aces be made available to them. Despite AM resistance they gradually got their way, the RAF’s sublime warrior-heroes appearing often – if unidentified – in photographs, newsreels and broadcasts. Their gradual transition from anonymity to celebrity was a remarkable transformation, eased by the naming of aces and pilot-heroes. Mark Rawlinson affirms the transition in that Fighter Command underwent a significant image change during the Battle, its pilots projected as courageous and talented young men naturally equipped for air fighting [301, pp. 39–67]. The poet Stephen Spender was also effusive in his praise and noted that the Few during the Battle were pre-eminent in their prowess, coming to the fore in a bright and flame-like manner traditionally to be seen throughout English history [329, p. 262]. Field Marshal Alanbrooke was moved simply to record during the Battle that the Few’s performance would gain them a permanent place in history [139*, p. 211]. Propagandists, the media and Churchill seized upon Fighter Command’s glamour, exploiting an opportunity to proclaim a much-needed British victory thanks to the Few’s prowess. This was more convincingly argued by confirming the period of the Battle, its official dates as set during the war prevailing to the present. However, to those experiencing the air battles at first hand its precise delineation seemed rather arbitrary. George Orwell, writing on 8 April 1941, had just read the influential AM pamphlet: ‘what chiefly impresses me when reading The Battle of Britain and looking up the corresponding dates in this diary, is the way in which ‘‘epic’’ events never seem very important at the time’ [282, pp. 391–2]. Also confirming the difficulties of appreciating the importance of events when viewed at close

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hand, Overy, commenting on the Battle’s post-war transformation into a major strategic event suggests that it was not clear at the time that a major success had been gained [284, p. 267]. Robert Winder is less charitable about the official motivation for asserting a clear victory, suggesting that key historical turning points such as Agincourt, Trafalgar, Waterloo or the Battle had in essence simply been exploited for the benefit of those in power or who had influence [353, p. 479]. In taking this view it might also be argued that the demands of the moment are susceptible to change, war always a demanding and dynamic force that impacts powerfully upon society. War leaders including Churchill were keenly aware of this, as was Saunders, author of the Battle of Britain pamphlet. Both in their own way contributed a great deal to the heroicisation of the Few, Churchill’s ‘to so few’ leitmotif and the pamphlet, seminal propaganda moments whose impact has endured. Britain’s broader process of propagandising the Battle occurred in three phases. First, during the events themselves, where the overwhelming media attention that Fighter Command received especially during the period 14 August to 7 September 1940, marked respectively, Adler Tag and the beginning of the Blitz. Both before and after that period the coverage was impressive, but international scrutiny and interest in the air war was arguably at its most intense and reached a critical mass during those almost four weeks. Second, immediately after the Battle and as the war progressed, through ‘cold’ propaganda in the form of films, books and art; the latter in addition to images, also leading to a solid Battle iconography. Given a freer hand, writers, publishers and film-makers were able to develop their own ideas as to how the Few should be projected, official interest through the DPR and MOI more concerned with security and appropriateness. And lastly, through its consolidation into an enduringly powerful myth in the post-war period, where the most eloquent testament to the effectiveness of wartime Battle propaganda is in the influence that it continues to exert over the air war’s historiography and popular public perception. The Battle as a major victory has also been affirmed through heritage and commemoration [213]. A fitting statue of Lord Dowding was unveiled in 1988 outside the RAF church, St Clement Danes in the Strand, the result of the Battle of Britain Fighter Association’s efforts to honour a commander many believe had been poorly treated [300, pp. xxvi–xxix] – Sir Keith Park also deserves a statue, and a campaign is underway [642]. Some believe that his statue should occupy the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square, a monument to a victory directly comparable to the Battle of Britain. More recently, the Battle of Britain Historical Society was created in 1996, with the aim of ensuring that the historical context of the Battle continues to be remembered [e.g. 126; 127]. It organised a public appeal for a Battle of Britain memorial on the Embankment, unveiled in 2005, to which the British government made no significant contribution [298]. On

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30 May 2008 the Ministry of Defence sold Bentley Priory, Fighter Command’s and Dowding’s headquarters during the Battle, for redevelopment as luxury flats and new housing. What price our military heritage? Despite current government indifference, the Battle of Britain will continue to be remembered and commemorated for the foreseeable future. Each decade since 1940 has seen many books published about the air war, its 70th anniversary in 2010 unlikely to be different. It continues to captivate and inspire, the example set by the fighter pilots – fewer and fewer of whom are still with us – a powerful example of courage and selfless duty. The mythicisation of the Few into warrior-heroes was the result of a separate media war within an aerial war, and a propaganda triumph within a strategic victory. As such it was, and remains, perhaps the most successful and enduring climacteric of its kind in history.

War Artists’ Appendix

Numbers in bold indicate sources in bibliography

Fighter pilot and commanders’ portraitists Eric Kennington. 10: Beamish [pl. 14], Neil [pl. 28], Malan [pl. 29], Mungo[-]Park [pl. 36], Lewis [pl. 39], Bader [pl. 40], Allard [pl. 41], McKnight [pl. 42], Lacey [pl. 43]; 18: Simpson [frontispiece]; 31: Forbes [facing p. 121]; 42: Town[s]end [frontispiece], Bader [f.p. 16], MacLachlan [pl. 32], Stevens [pl. 48], Beamish [pl. 65], Pisarek [pl. 73], Malan [pl. 84]; 49: Beamish [pl. 4], McGregor [pl. 5], Bader [pl. 7], Forbes [pl. 8], Malan [pl. 9], Crossley [pl. 10], Kayll [pl. 11], Mungo-Park [pl. 12], Allard [pl. 13], Cunningham [pl. 14], McKnight [pl. 15], Dafforn [pl. 16], Stephen [pl. 17], Lacey [pl. 19], Stevens [pl. 20], Lewis [pl. 30]. William Rothenstein. 10: Dowding [pl. 10]; 81: Dowding [pl. 16], Park [pl. 17], Broadhurst [pl. 18], Dewar [pl. 19], Kent [pl. 21], Leather [pl. 22], Straight [pl. 23], Bungey [pl. 24], Chisholm [pl. 25]. Cuthbert Orde. 24: Crook [frontispiece]; 42: Finucane [f.p. 85]; 74: Gleave [frontispiece]; 68: Malan [pl. 1], Rhodes-Moorhouse [pl. 2], McKellar [pl. 3], Aitken [pl. 4], Dundas [pl. 5], Urbanowicz [pl. 8], Cunningham [pl. 9], Peel [pl. 10], Finucane [pl. 11], Lacey [pl. 12], Boyd [pl. 13], Bader [pl. 14], Dalton-Morgan [pl. 15], Oxspring [pl. 16], Clowes [pl. 17], Beamish [pl. 18], Hugo [pl. 19], Urwin-Mann [pl. 20], Kellett [pl. 21], Wolton [pl. 22], Holden [pl. 23], Higginson [pl. 24], David [pl. 25], Allard [pl. 28], Brown [pl. 29], Gaunce [pl. 30], Ogilvie [pl. 31], Simpson [pl. 32], Stevens [pl. 33], Mungo-Park [pl. 34], Neil [pl. 35], Turner [pl. 36], Kilmartin [pl. 37], Tuck [pl. 38], Robinson [pl. 39], Broadhurst [pl. 40], Whitehead [pl. 41], Deere [pl. 42], Kent [pl. 43], Whitney Straight [pl. 44], Hayter [pl. 46], Churchill [pl. 48], Duke-Woolley [pl. 49], Ryder [pl. 50], Sizer [pl. 52], Boulter [pl. 53], Dundas [pl. 54], Boyd [pl. 56], Tamblyn [pl. 57], Kingcome [pl. 59], Burnell-Phillips [pl. 61], Townsend [pl. 62], McGregor [pl. 63], Lock [pl. 64]. Thomas Dugdale. 10: Farquhar [pl. 12].

WAAC artists Paul Nash. Wartime published works in 10: Under the Cliff, 1940 [pl. 32], Bomber in the Wood, 1940 [pl. 33], Down in the Channel, 1940 [pl. 34], Bomber in the Corn, 1940 [pl. 35]; 75: Totes Meer, Dead Sea, 1940–41 [pl. 27], Battle of Britain, 1941 [pl. 29]. Post-war published works in 183: Day Fighter, 1940 [pl. 105a], Night Fighter, 1940 [pl. 105b]; 215: [photographs] Aeroplane Parts at Cowley Dump, 1940 [p. 17], Messerschmitt Bf109 Crashed in Windsor Great Park, 1940 [p. 28], Wrecked Aircraft at Cowley Dump, 1940 [p. 30]; [paintings] Marching Against England, 1940 [p. 26], Encounter in the Afternoon, 1940 [p. 33], Bomber on the Shore, 1940 [p. 58], Death of the Dragon, 1940. 315

316 War Artists’ Appendix

Robert Austin. 10: Parachutes Airing [pl. 4], Hurricane in a Canvas Shelter [pl. 6], Spitfire in a Hanger [pl. 7]. Richard Eurich. 10: Air Fight Over Portland 1940 [pl. 31]; 316: Trawlers Against Heinkel [p. 96]. Raymond McGrath. 10: Fitters Working on a Spitfire [pl. 3], Wing Sections Awaiting Assembly [pl. 5]. Roy Nockolds. 10: Night Fighters Prepare at Dusk [pl. 24], Stalking the Night Raider [pl. 25], Three Spitfires Attacking a Formation of Junkers 1941 [pl. 30]. John Armstrong. 33: September 1940 [p. 144]. Charles Cundall. 217: The Withdrawal from Dunkirk, June 1940 [f.p. 262]. Robin Darwin. 10: Camouflaging the New Flight Shed [pl. 18]. Thomas Monnington. 316: Fighter Affiliation [p. 26]. Eric Ravilious. 295: Barrage Balloons at Sea, 1940 [pl. 68], Coastal Defences, 1940 [pl. 74], Morning on the Tarmac, 1941 [pl. 87].

Unofficial war artists Frank Wootton. 74: The Night Fighter [f.p. 22]; 90*: Sky Battle: Dogfight over Dunkirk between Defiants and Dornier D.O.17 Bombers of the German Luftwaffe [p. 46]; 125: Wings for Victory, c. 1942 [p. 12], Flt Lt CJ Dundas Shooting Down Maj H Wick, 1940 [p. 10]; 148: Libya – Help Them Finish the Job [pl. 59]; 241: Looking for Trouble – Spitfires 1940 [p. 88; and 470, c.p.]; 471: A Job of Work to be Done – Defiant Fighters with de Havilland Constant-Speed Airscrews [c.p.]. Richard Frost. 36: The Author [frontispiece], M.E.110’s . . . ‘This looks easy’ [f.p. 17], Making for Cloud Cover [f.p. 48], Worse than a Hendon Air Pageant [f.p. 80]. A.K. Lawrence. 14: Untitled works included a pilot in Spitfire cockpit [frontispiece], and a Spitfire in flight [f.p. 50].

Bibliography

Contemporary publications to 1945 The suffix ‘*’ against several sources indicates bibliographic adjustments for late additions. Years given in brackets ‘[–]’ indicates first year of publication. 1. ALLINGHAM, M. 1941. The Oaken Heart. Michael Joseph: London. 2. ANON. 1943. Battle of Britain. Pamphlet 156. Department of the Air Member for Training. AM. 3. ANON. 1941. British Air Forces: The RAF and the Fleet Air Arm, Completely Illustrated and Described. The Illustrated London News: London. 4. ANON. 1942. Front Line 1940–1941: The Official Story of the Civil Defence of Britain. HMSO: London. 5. ANON. 1941. Invasion: series of articles by expert strategists which first appeared in the ‘Evening Standard’ – with maps. 6. ANON. n.d. Ourselves in Wartime. Odhams Press: London. 7. ANON. 1943. Roof Over Britain: The Official Story of the A.A. Defences, 1939–1942. HMSO: London. 8. ANON. 1939. Spitfire. Vickers-Supermarine: Southampton. 9. ANON. 1940. Spot them in the Air! Daily Mirror: London. 10. ANON. 1942. War Pictures by British Artists: The RAF. OUP: London. 10.∗ ANON. 1942. We Speak from the Air: Broadcasts by the RAF. HMSO/MOI: London. 11. ANON. 1941. Winged Words: Our Airmen Speak for Themselves. Heinemann: London. 12. ARMSTRONG, A. n.d. Prune’s Progress: The Genealogical Tree of Pilot-officer Percy Prune. Herbert Jenkins: London. 13. AUSTIN, A.B. 1941. Fighter Command. Victor Gollancz: London. 14. BARNES, D.G. n.d. Cloud Cover: Recollections of an Intelligence Officer. Rich & Cowan: London [1943]. 15. BATES, H.E. 1942. In the Heart of the Country. Country Life: London. 16. BECKLES, G. 1941. Birth of a Spitfire: The Story of Beaverbrook’s Ministry and its First £10,000,000. Collins: London. 17. ‘BLAKE’ [pseudonym for R. Adams]. 1941. Readiness at Dawn. Victor Gollancz: London. 18. BOLITHO, H. 1943. Combat Report: The Story of a Fighter Pilot. B.T. Batsford: London. 19. BRITTAIN, V. 1941. England’s Hour. Macmillan: London. 20. CHURCHILL, R.S. 1941. Into Battle: Speeches by the Right Hon. Winston S. Churchill C.H., M.P. Cassell: London. 21. CHURCHILL, W.S. August 20, 1940. A speech by the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable, Winston Churchill in the House of Commons. HMSO: London. 22. CHURCHILL, W.S. August 20, 1940. Britain’s Strength: a speech by the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Winston Churchill, in the House of Commons. British Library: New York. 23. COWLES, V. 1941. Looking for Trouble. Hamish Hamilton: London. 317

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CROOK, D.M. 1942. Spitfire Pilot. Faber & Faber: London. DAVY, M.J.B. 1941. Air Power and Civilisation. George Allen & Unwin: London. DAY LEWIS, C. 1943. Word Over All. Jonathan Cape: London. DONAHUE, A. 1941. Tally Ho! Yankee in a Spitfire. Macmillan: London. DOUHET, G. 1940. The Command of the Air. Translated by Dino Ferrari. Collins: London. DOWDING, H.C.T. September 10, 1946. ‘The Battle of Britain’, Supplement to the London Gazette. HMSO: London [submitted to AM 20.8.1941]. ELLAN, B.J. [B.J.E. Lane]. 1942. Spitfire: The Experiences of a Fighter Pilot. John Murray: London. FORBES, A. & H. ALLEN (eds). 1942. Ten Fighter Boys. Collins: London. FOSTER, R. 1941. Dover Front. Secker & Warburg: London. GARDNER, C. 1940. A.A.S.F. Hutchinson: London. GARNETT, D. & J. GARDNER. 1941. The Battle of Britain. Puffin Book No. 21. Penguin: Harmondsworth/New York. GARNETT, D. 1941. War in the Air: September 1939 to May 1941. Chatto & Windus: London. GLEED, I.R. 1942. Arise to Conquer. Victor Gollancz: London. GRAVES, C. n.d. The Thin Blue Line. Hutchinson: London [1941]. GREY, C.G. 1941. British Fighter Planes. Faber & Faber: London. GREY, C.G. 1940. A History of the Air Ministry. George Allen & Unwin: London. HARRISSON, T. & C. MADGE. 1940. War Begins at Home. Chatto & Windus: London. HAWKES, J. & C. HAWKES. 1944. Prehistoric Britain. Penguin: Harmondsworth. HELMORE, W. 1942. Air Commentary. George Allen & Unwin: London. HERBERT, A.P. 1940. Siren Song. Methuen: London. HERMANN, H. 1943. The Rise and Fall of the Luftwaffe. John Long: London. HILLARY, R. 1943. The Last Enemy. Macmillan: London [June 1942]. INGERSOLL, R. 1941. Report on England. The Bodley Head: Oxford. INNES, H. 1963. Attack Alarm. Fontana/Collins: London [1941]. KEIDRYCH, R. (ed.) 1943. More Poems from the Forces. Routledge: London. KENNINGTON, E. 1942. Drawing the RAF. Oxford University Press: London. KEUN, O. 1942. And Hell Followed: A European ally Interprets the War for Ordinary People like Herself. Constable & Co: London. LANDAU, R. 1945. The Wing: Confessions of an RAF Officer. Faber & Faber: London. LEHMANN-RUSSBUELDT, O. 1935. Germany’s Air Force. George Allen & Unwin: London. LYTTON, N. 1942. Life in Unoccupied France. Macmillan: London. MACKENZIE, A.J. 1938. Propaganda Boom. John Gifford: London. MARCHANT, H. 1941. Women and Children Last: A Woman Reporter’s Account of the Battle of Britain. Gollancz: London. MASEFIELD, J. 1941. The Nine Days Wonder (The Operation Dynamo). Heinemann: London. MASS-OBSERVATION. 1941. Home Propaganda. A Report Prepared by Mass-Observation for the Advertising Service Guild. Change No. 2, Bulletin of the Advertising Service Guild: London. MASTERS, D. 1941. ‘So Few’: The Immortal Record of the RAF. Eyre & Spottiswoode: London. MEE, A. 1941. Nineteen Forty: Our Finest Hour. Hodder & Stoughton: London. MICHIE, A.A. & W. GRAEBNER (eds). 1940. Their Finest Hour: The War in the First Person. George Allen & Unwin: London.

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Daily Sketch, 29.8.1940. 13.9.1940. Daily Telegraph, 15.7.1940. 16.8.1940. 19.8.1940. 26.8.1940. 2.9.1940. 7.9.1940. 9.9.1940. 16.9.1940. 25.8.2006. 26.8.2006. 19.5.2007. Flight, 8.8.1940. 29.8.1940. 5.9.1940. 12.9.1940. 26.9.1940. Illustrated, 29.6.1940. News Chronicle, 16.8.1940. Observer, 27.8.2006. Picture Post, 20.4.1940. 6.7.1940. 13.7.1940. 20.7.1940. 27.7.1940. 3.8.1940. 10.8.1940. 17.8.1940. 31.8.1940. 7.9.1940. 21.9.1940. 28.9.1940. 5.10.1940. 12.10.1940. Punch, 7.2.1940. 3.7.1940. 10.7.1940. 17.7.1940. 24.7.1940. 7.8.1940. 21.8.1940. 28.8.1940. 4.9.1940. 11.9.1940. 18.9.1940. 25.9.1940. 2.10.1940. 16.10.1940. 23.10.1940.

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6.11.1940. 13.11.1940. 20.11.1940. Sunday Express, 1.9.1940. The Aeroplane, 31.5.1940. 14.6.1940. 21.6.1940. 12.7.1940. 19.7.1940. 26.7.1940. 2.8.1940. 9.8.1940. 16.8.1940. 23.8.1940. 30.8.1940. 6.9.1940. 13.9.1940. 20.9.1940. 27.9.1940. 4.10.1940. 11.10.1940. 18.10.1940. 25.10.1940. 1.11.1940. 8.11.1940. 15.11.1940. 22.11.1940. 29.11.1940. 6.12.1940. 20.12.1940. 27.12.1940. The (London) Evening News, 10.9.1940. 16.9.1940. The Illustrated London News, 13.7.1940. 20.7.1940. 27.7.1940. 3.8.1940. 10.8.1940. 17.8.1940. 24.8.1940. 31.8.1940. 7.9.1940. 21.9.1940. 28.9.1940. 5.10.1940. 12.10.1940. 26.10.1940. 2.11.1940. 9.11.1940. 16.11.1940.

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23.11.1940. 30.11.1940. 7.12.1940. 14.12.1940. 28.12.1940. The Sunday Times, News Review, 18.9.2005. News Review, 16.10.2005. The Times, 19.8.1940. 21.8.1940. 26.8.1940. 27.8.1940. 30.8.1940. 2.9.1940. 3.9.1940. 4.9.1940. 6.9.1940. 7.9.1940. 9.9.1940. 10.9.1940. 11.9.1940. 12.9.1940. 14.9.1940. 16.9.1940. 17.9.1940. 18.9.1940. 19.9.1940. 20.9.1940. 21.9.1940. 23.9.1940. 24.9.1940. 25.9.1940. 26.9.1940. 27.9.1940. 28.9.1940. 30.9.1940. 1.10.1940. 2.10.1940. 3.10.1940. 4.10.1940. 7.10.1940. 8.10.1940. 9.10.1940. 12.10.1940. 15.10.1940. 16.10.1940. 17.10.1940. 18.10.1940. 19.10.1940. 21.10.1940.

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22.10.1940. 23.10.1940. 24.10.1940. 25.10.1940. 26.10.1940. 28.10.1940. 29.10.1940. 30.10.1940. 31.10.1940. 24.8.2006. 25.8.2006. The Tribune, 16.8.1940. The War incorporating War Pictorial, 13.9.1940. The War Illustrated, 14.6.1940. 21.6.1940. 28.6.1940. 5.7.1940. 12.7.1940. 19.7.1940. 26.7.1940. 2.8.1940. 9.8.1940. 16.8.1940. 23.8.1940. 30.8.1940. 6.9.1940 13.9.1940. 20.9.1940. 4.10.1940. 18.10.1940. 25.10.1940. 1.11.1940.

Other sources 596. Mass-Observation Archive. Box 7: 17/7/G: Newsreel Reports 1940–45.

National Archives documents 597. 598. 599. 600.

AIR 20/2950. AIR 41/9. CAB 106/312. MOI, HI reports. INF.1.264. Part 1 and Part 2 [reel one]. Hassocks, Harvester Press, 1979. 601. MOI, HI reports. INF.1.292 [reel two]. INF 2/17. Hassocks, Harvester Press, 1979.

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19.8.1940 (585). 24.8.1940 (586). 5.9.1940 (587A). 19.9.1940 (589A). 7.10.1940 (592). British Paramount News 19.8.1940 (691). Gaumont British News 15.8.1940 (690). 7.10.1940 (705). Path´e Gazette 12.8.1940 (40/65). 15.8.1940 (40/66). 19.8.1940 (40/67). 5.9.1940 (40/72). 3.10.1940 (40/80). 7.10.1940 (40/81). 17.10.1940 (40/84). 21.10.1940 (40/85). 21.11.1940 (40/94).

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Posters 633. 634. 635. 636. 637. 638.

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Index

Aberystwyth, 273 Academy Awards, 272 aces, see RAF aces Acklington, RAF, 40 Addinsell, Richard, 255, 259 Addison, Lord, 244 Adlerangriff, (Attack of the Eagles), 53 Adler Tag, (Eagle Day), 28, 53–4, 77, 99–100, 102, 117, 147, 156, 171, 227, 233, 247, 313 Admiralty, The, 10, 19, 23, 53 Advanced Air Striking Force, 22, 51 advertisements, 13, 18, 19, 134, 135, 136, 137, 151, 153–4, 189, 206, 223 magazine, 208–11, 222 newspaper, 208–11 RAF aircrew, 208 see also aircraft, advertisements Aeroplane, The, 14, 21, 22, 45, 51, 61, 62, 69, 95, 105–6, 130, 151, 152, 153–9, 179, 190, 191, 194, 196, 197, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 208, 209, 210, 211, 214, 222, 231, 232, 234, 243, 283 Agincourt, Battle of, 79, 80, 311 air communiqu´es, see Directorate of Public Relations (AM) aircraft advertisements, 209–11, 222 see also individual manufacturer entries aircraft claims, Luftwaffe counterclaims, 7, 60, 75, 90, 98–9, 201, 203, 236–9, 241, 244, 247 German broadcasts of, 99 aircraft claims, RAF, 16, 21, 27, 28, 56, 60, 64, 91–115, 145, 147, 148–9, 154, 156, 159, 169–72, 194, 197, 199, 200, 202, 227, 228, 236, 249–50, 274, 284, pl. 9 aircraft, categorising ‘damaged’, ‘destroyed’, ‘probable’, 40, 92–3 assessments of, 91–6, 112–14, 144, 180–2, 207, 240–1, 283, 308, 310

BBC broadcasts of, 93, 96–101, 102, 103, 106, 111, 116, 133 British preoccupation with, 101–4, 105–9, 127 controversy in America, 93–4, 110–12, 237–9 ‘cricket scores’, as, 7–8, 56, 91, 95, 99, 101, 104, 114, 147–8, 154, 156, 159, 172, 224, 238 obfuscation, British, 4, 112–14, 244, 249–50, 284, 304 significance, 114–15 see also Air Intelligence, RAF Air Defence Notices, 23 airfields, RAF, 221 see also architecture, airfield; individual airfields, ending with ‘RAF’; individual Groups (10, 11, 12, 13); RAF Air Force Welfare, 16 Air Historical Branch, 16, 18, 21, 22, 24, 308, 309 Battle narrative, 112, 113, 308, 310 Air Intelligence, RAF, 41, 43, 51, 72, 309 AI(3)(b), 7, 109, 112–13 AI6, 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 28, 92–3, 159, 180–2 Intelligence Officer, 43, 92, 94, 96, 104, 112–13, 166, 168, 178, 180–1, 222, 300 operational security, 19–24 pilot debriefings after combat, 43, 92–3, 180–1, 281 see also aircraft claims, RAF Air Ministry, British, 38, 42, 47, 52, 53, 56, 59, 60, 61, 62, 78, 82, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97–8, 99, 100, 103, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 112, 113, 115, 116, 118, 119, 121, 122, 128, 131, 133, 143, 145, 147, 150, 151, 154, 155, 158, 159, 160, 163, 164, 172, 173, 174, 176, 177, 179, 180, 182, 187, 189, 190, 192, 196, 200, 205, 206, 208, 212, 213, 215, 218, 220, 223, 229, 231, 232, 236, 238, 239, 243, 245, 247, 249, 252–3, 275, 276, 280, 281,

336

Index 337

284, 285, 286, 288, 289, 293, 298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310 Adastral House, 12, 196 aims and organisation, 12–13 Air Council, 12–13, 177 Air Members, 12–13 Department of the Air Member for Training, 286 history, 12 Tee Emm (manual), 205 see also Directorate of Public Relations (AM); Secretary of State for Air air power, 26, 33 assessments of Nazi, 48 books on aspects of: Air Power and Civilisation (see Davy, B.); Air Power and the Next War (see Spaight, J.) British Fighter Planes (see Grey, C.G.); Coming Battle of Germany, The (see Ziff, W.B.); Command of the Air, The (see Douhet, G.); Germany’s Air Force (see Lehmann-Russbueldt, O.); History of the Air Ministry, A (see Grey, C.G.); Per Ardua (see St George Saunders, H.); Rise and Fall of the Luftwaffe, The (see Hermann, H.); Sky’s the Limit, The (see Spaight, J.); War in the Air (see Garnett, D.) Douhetism, 37, 249 leading thinkers, 37 primacy of bomber, 37–8 theories of, 37 see also Luftwaffe; RAF Air Transport Auxiliary, 306 Alanbrooke, Field Marshal, 4, 39, 312 Aldergrove, RAF, 40 Allingham, Marjery, Oaken Heart, The, 62, 67, 80, 121–2, 191, 228, 229 American newsreels, 175–6, 239, 241 see also newsreels and clips, Britain’s RAF Amery, Leopold, 86 Andover, 264 Angrave, Bruce, 207 appeasement, 34, 39, 135–6, 254, 271 architecture, airfield, 38 Armstrong, Anthony Behind the Spitfires, 205 Prune’s Progress, 205 Armstrong, John, 221, 316 artists, see war art Ashford, Pam, 101, 102, 233

Associated Newspapers, 136 Associated Press, 94 Attlee, Clement, 136 Auden, W.H., 294 Audit Bureau of Circulation Ltd, see newspapers Austin, A.B., Fighter Command, 19, 141, 292, 300 Austin, Robert, 220, 316 Australia, 58, 86, 88, 200, 210, 221 authors, published (civilian) British, 297–303, 307; German, 2, 6, 307; post-war, 307–10 see also literature; poets and poetry Auxiliary Air Force, 15, 38, 74, 128, 130 Auxiliary Air Force and Reserve Air Force Act, 38 Avro Anson aircraft, 265 Axis, The, 82, 244–6, 247 Bader, Thelma, 145 Baldwin, Stanley, 37, 80, 149 Balfour, Harold, 39, 44, 68, 86, 112 Baltimore Sun, The, 240 Barbarossa, Operation, 2, 6 Barnes, Derek G., Cloud Cover, 222, 300 Barnsley, 109 barrage balloons, 41–2, 177, 179–80, 191, 203, 219, 257, 287 Bates, H.E., 16, 17, 67, 191, 216, 220, 221, 225, 279 Bath, 40 ‘Battle of the Barges’, 4, 5, 56–7, 265 see also Channel, The Battle of Britain, the German historical assessments of, 2, 6, 307 mythication of, 313–14 official dates, 52–3 phases, 53–8 propaganda, importance of, 6–8 revisionist views, 1–6, 63 strategic importance, 6, 62–3 see also Battle of Britain, The (1941, AM pamphlet); post-war Battle historiography Battle of Britain, The (1941, AM pamphlet), 2, 4, 16, 17, 42, 47, 52, 53, 62, 73, 76, 77, 78, 92, 119, 225, 280–7, 300, 305, 308, 312–13 American version, 285 Canadian version, 285, pl. 22

338 Index

Battle of Britain – continued illustrated version, 283–4 reactions to, 285–6 sales of, 285 text version, 280–3 Battle of Britain, The (1943, AM pamphlet), 2, 53, 286–7 Battle of Britain (BBC broadcast), 119 Battle of Britain clasp, 58–9 ‘Battle of Britain day’, see 15 September, 1940 Battle of Britain Historical Society, 3, 313 Battle of Britain monument, 313 Battle, and defeat, of France, 2, 11, 14, 19, 25, 26, 35, 75, 98, 117, 156, 166, 172, 177, 190, 226, 236, 242, 245, 277, 281, 301, 303 air fighting, 41, 49, 50, 51, 89, 128, 142, 154, 156, 220, 288, 297–8; books on, A. A. S. F (see Gardner, C.); Squadrons Up! (see Monks, N.); Taking Off! (see Monks, N.); War News had Wings (see Narracott, A.) BBC coverage, 22, 125, 297 see also France Bay of Bengal, 147 BBC, see British Broadcasting Corporation Beaton, Cecil, 192 Beaverbrook, Lord, 14, 44, 74, 83, 85, 131, 133, 135, 155, 156, 199, 200, 203, 204, 230–1 Beckles, Gordon, Birth of a Spitfire, 231 Beddington, Jack, 163 Belfast Telegraph, The, 233 Belgium, 37, 49, 52, 58, 72, 248–9 Bellerophon (and Perseus), 303 Benes, President, 158, 172, 173 Benson, A.C., 272 Bentley Priory, RAF, 21, 40, 74, 92–3, 216, 288, 313–14 see also Dowding, Hugh Berkshire, 238 Berlin, 56, 78, 98, 110, 241, 244, 245, 246, 257, 270, 302 Bernays, Edward, Propaganda, 9 Berne, 247 Bevan, Aneurin, 87, 107 Biggin Hill, RAF, 17, 40, 55, 187, 193, 207, 306 ‘Big Wings’, 56–7, 61, 144, 145 biplane aircraft, 38–9, 177, 205, 253, 255, 306

birds of prey, 46, 66, 224–5, 303, 304 Birmingham, 121, 226, 233, 234 Birmingham Mail, 138 ‘Blake’ (R. Adams), Readiness at Dawn, 300 Bletchley Park, see Ultra, Bletchley Park Blitz, The, 6, 27, 39, 48, 56–8, 84, 150, 151, 157, 159–60, 176, 192, 199, 212, 228, 229, 230, 236, 240, 243, 245, 264, 272, 274, 287, 299, 301, 302, 313 Blitzkrieg, 23, 49, 61, 98, 101, 103, 104, 165, 166, 171, 198 Blunt, Maggie Joy, 101, 104 Board of Trade, 31 Bolitho, Hector, Combat Report, 292–3 Bolton Paul Defiant aircraft, 47–8, 59, 167, 199, 211, 213, 218, 222, 267, 316 Bomber Command, 13, 39, 60, 207, 260, 287 aircrew training, 44–5 Bomber Command, 78, 285 Churchill’s 20.8.1940 speech, and, 77–8 relations with Fighter Command, 44, 227, 252, 265 role during the Battle, 4, 5, 51, 53, 56, 78, 265, 299 see also ‘Battle of the Barges’; feature films, Way to the Stars, The Bonham Carter, Lady, 81 Book Production War Economy Agreement, 279 Book Society, 17 Borneo, 234 Bowen, R.S., Dave Dawson with the RAF, 306 Box, RAF, 40 Bracken, Brendan, 27, 32, 33 Bradford, 230 Bratt, Colonel, 89 Bristol, 82, 121, 226, 229 Bristol aircraft, 69 Beaufighter, 48 Beaufort, 300 Blenheim, 42, 48, 59, 177, 180, 185, 190, 192, 211, 235, 253, 265, 291 Bristol Evening Post, 138 British Army, 2, 4, 5, 6, 10, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 35, 36, 37, 39, 40, 45, 51, 75, 82–3, 154, 163, 182, 198, 208, 215, 227, 264, 303, 305 see also War Office British Aviation Pictures, 261 British Board of Film Censors, 25, 30, 31

Index 339

British Broadcasting Corporation, 10, 18, 31, 33, 35, 40, 52, 74–5, 81, 83, 85, 88, 93, 97, 98, 102, 103, 106, 111, 139, 152, 153, 156, 159, 161, 185, 190, 207, 227, 231, 244, 246, 248, 294, 297 audiences in Britain, 97, 98, 119–20, 132 Battle of France coverage, 22–3, 117, 297 Battle-related dramas, 41, 118–19, 120 BBC History Magazine, 4 BBC Radio 4, 2 censorship constraints, 12, 21, 22, 27, 29, 30, 116–17 competition between BBC and press, 117 coverage of Battle, 56, 102, 103, 120–8, 312 doubts about accuracy of news, 120, 122 Home Intelligence surveys of BBC audiences, 120, 121, 126, 131 Home Service, 117, 247 Listener Research, 122, 127 News Department, 117 ‘Phoney War’ output, 117 propaganda organ for government, 93, 98, 116–17 relationship with MOI, 116–17 repetitive news bulletins, 120–1 Survey of Listening, 119 television broadcasts suspended, 117 times and currency of bulletins, 120 trusted news source, 121–2 World Service, 247 see also Directorate of Public Relations (AM), air communiqu´es (bulletins); British Broadcasting Corporation, actuality recording; British Broadcasting Corporation, broadcasts by fighter pilots; British Broadcasting Corporation, foreign language broadcasts; Gardner, Charles; Radio Times; Listener, The; Timewatch, BBC series British Broadcasting Corporation, actuality recording actuality content in broadcasts, 123–8 actuality recording process, 122–3 recording cars, 122 see also Gardner, Charles British Broadcasting Corporation, broadcasts by fighter pilots, 128–30, 133, 292

books of: Air Commentary (see Helmore, W.); We Speak from the Air, 130; Winged Words, 17, 128, 129, 292 British Broadcasting Corporation, foreign language broadcasts, 231, 244, 246–9 British Commonwealth, 80, 177, 296 British Dominions, 85, 86, 88, 130, 246–7, 285 British Empire, The, 3, 34, 86, 88, 155, 156, 163, 168, 173, 177, 178, 186, 204, 232, 234–5, 247, 249, 299, 302, 306 British Expeditionary Force, 19, 35, 51, 98 British Information Services, 273 British Movietone News, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 171, 172, 174, 176, 182 British Paramount News, 162, 174 Brittain, Vera, England’s Hour, 126–7 Britten, Benjamin, 294 Broadcasting House, BBC, 29 Brockbank, R., 199 Brooke, Rupert, 291, 295 Brown, Charles, E., 192 Browning machine-guns, 47, 118, 123, 124, 184, 190, 200, 205, 210, 225, 242, 259 increase in fighter armament, 47 Brown, Richard, 81, 101, 102, 103, 104 Brown, Sam, 235 Buckingham Palace, 73, 96, 172, 207 burns from air combat, 70, 146, 290–1 Cadbury, 136 Cagney, James, 267 Cambridge, 15, 46, 101, 108, 109, 120–1, 227, 230, 233 Cambridge University Air Squadron, 46 Camm, Sydney, 47 Camrose, Kemsley, 136 Camrose, Lord, 136 Canada, 19, 58, 74, 88, 111, 129, 130, 167, 173, 177, 209–10, 221, 262 cannon armament Luftwaffe, 50, 51 RAF, 47 Canterbury, 88, 225 Capra, Frank, 273, 275 Cardiff, 121, 226, 227, 228–9 cartoons, 134, 135, 136, 137, 153, 198–206, 231, 245 propaganda, 81, 198–9 cartoonists, 198–9

340 Index

‘Cassandra’ newspaper column, 135 Catterick, RAF, 40, 265 Cawser, Elsie, 235 censorship, defining, 19–20 Central Press, 192 Chamberlain, Neville, 14, 27, 39, 135–6, 254–5 Chaney, Major-General, 52 Channel, The, 6, 37, 43, 50, 53, 56, 57, 58, 87, 89, 93, 97, 98, 102, 107, 123, 124, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 141, 142, 151, 155, 164, 165, 186, 194, 200, 201, 205, 219, 227, 236, 238, 250, 270, 273–4, 286, 290, 294, 301 air-sea rescue, Luftwaffe, 72 Kanalkrankheit, or Channel sickness, 72 life expectancy in, 67 rescue of pilots, 68, 127, 270 Channel Islands, The, 248 Channel ports, attacks by RAF, see ‘Battle of the Barges’ Chave, O.C., 294 Chequers, 74, 77 Chicago Daily News, 237 Chicago Sunday Tribute, 237 Chicago Tribune, 237 Chichester Observer, 138 Chief Constables, 32 China, 236 chivalry in air fighting, 144, 169, 223, 225 Church Fenton, RAF, 40 Churchill, Winston, 14, 20, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 32, 33–5, 39, 52, 60, 72, 74, 85, 88, 90, 102, 103, 112, 113, 123, 125, 135–6, 139, 155, 162, 174, 213–14, 234, 236, 237, 240, 275, 284, 285, 303, 312–13 aims of oratory, 33 aircraft claims, irritation at US press, 110–11 appreciation for fighter pilots, 4, 73, 74, 76–7, 90, 158, 167 approval rating, 82 Into Battle, 75, 85 BBC broadcasts, 74–5, 81, 83–4, 85, 132, 133, 153, 248 coalition cabinet, 20, 26, 34, 85, 138, 139 demands more pilots, 55 Dowding and Park, dismissals, 61–2 early Battle speech, 52, 74–5 later Battle speeches, 83–5

Picture Post special, 157 pre-Battle speeches, 34–5 pre-war speeches about Nazi threat, 33–4 as Prime Minister, 34–5, 39 as propagandist, 7, 33, 84, 85, 90, 91, 312 Second World War, The, 54, 78, 279, 284 Secretary for Air, as, 33, 36 20.8.1940 speech (and ‘to so few’ epigraph), 50, 55, 70, 74–83, 87, 90, 168, 178, 185, 187, 196, 213, 228, 238, 242, 263, 267, 270, 283, 297, 304, 305, 308, 312, pl. 6 visits to Bentley Priory, 74, 76–7 visits to fighter squadrons, 74 visits to Uxbridge, 42, 74, 76–7, 83 ‘wilderness years’, 33–4 cinema pre-war attendances, 251–2 wartime audiences, 251 see also feature films Citizens’ Advice Bureaux, 32 civilian poets and the fighter pilots, 303–4 Clark, Kenneth, 215 Clydeside, 230 Collier’s Weekly, 152, 302 Coltishall, RAF, 40, 144 Columbia Broadcasting Service, 22, 30, 110, 131, 239–40, 302 Colville, John, 74, 76, 77, 83, 103 comics Adventure, 205 Air Stories, 205 Beano, The, 205 Boy’s Own, 205 Champion, The, 205 Girl’s Own Paper, 306 Hotspur, The, 205 Meccano Magazine, 205 Rover, The, 205 Triumph & Gem, The, 205 Wizard, The, 205 Young Airman’s Annual, The, 205, 306 command and control system, RAF currency of plots, 42–3 filter room, 40 operations room, 40, 41, 42, 43, 55 pip squeak, 42, 49 radiotelephony, 41

Index 341

see also Bentley Priory, RAF; Fighter Command, RAF; Groups (10, 11, 12, 13), RAF; squadron organisation and operation, RAF; Radio Direction Finding (Radar) communiqu´es, Air Ministry, British, see Directorate of Public Relations (AM) composers, see music, film Conservative Party, and allegiance to, 27, 34, 135, 136, 137 contrails, and curiosity about, 191, 217, 218 Co-Operative Movement, 138 Cornwall, 49 Cosmopolitan, 269 Country Life, 152 Coventry, 98 Cowles, Virginia, Looking for Trouble, 302 Cowley aircraft dump, Oxford, 197, 218, 220 Crete, 4, 5 Cripps, Lady, 135 Cripps, Stafford, 87 Crompton, Richmal, ‘Just William’, 306 Crowborough, 127–8 Croydon, 95 Croydon, RAF, 41, 55, 140–1 Cundall, Charles, 221, 316 Cuneo, Terence, 207 Czechoslovakia, 39, 58, 84, 86, 88, 145, 158, 166, 168, 172, 173, 248, 259, 277 Daily Express, 19, 99–100, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 142, 193, 198, 200, 210, 285 Daily Herald, 99, 136, 140, 141, 191, 202, 203, 208, 301 Daily Mail, 136, 202, 209, 229, 297 Daily Mirror, 23, 73, 81, 85, 87, 95, 99, 100, 110, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140–1, 142, 144, 145, 147, 148, 159, 191, 194, 196, 197, 198, 199, 201, 231, 233, 236, 238 Spot them in the Air!, 46, 47 Daily Sketch, 136, 137, 140, 142, 198, 234, 304 Daily Telegraph, The, 19, 68, 82, 94, 100, 101, 136–7, 140, 141, 145, 198, 229, 299 Daily Worker, 134 Darwin, Robin, 221, 316 Daventry, 247

Davis, G.H., 206–7 Davy, Bernard, 58; Air Power and Civilisation, 281, 307 Day Lewis, Cecil, 303–4 Poems in Wartime, 303 Word All Over, 303 Deal, 274 Debden, RAF, 40 defence and national war bonds, 14, 81, 209 Defence of the Realm Act, 28 Defence Regulations, 30 De Grineau, Bryan, 206–7 De Havilland, Tiger Moth aircraft, 45, 306 Denmark, 248 Deutschlandsender, 98–9 Devon, 49 Dewsbury, 273 diarists, 224, 249 Mass-Observation, 32, 81, 101, 103, 121, 226, 233 private, 101, 102, 103, 104, 106, 126, 131, 226, 237 Dickson, Lovat, 291 Digby, RAF, 40, 42, 69 Directorate of Camouflage, 221 Directorate of Public Relations (AM), 15–19, 112, 145–6, 151, 164, 187, 212, 215, 222, 223, 285, 299, 313 air communiqu´es (bulletins), 16, 21, 22, 35, 92–9, 107–9, 120, 121, 137, 139, 147, 154, 158, 159, 232, 238, 239, 247, 312 authors, 17 censorship, 19–24 criticisms of censorship, 21–4 liaison branch in MOI, 19 News Service, 21, 93, 98 PR1, 17, 24, 25, 253 PR2, 17 PR3, 17, 18 PR4, 17 PR5, 17, 20 PR7, 17 PR8, 17 PR9, 17 PR10, 16, 17, 221 PR11, 17, 281, 294 press officers, 19, 21 press section, 13, 14, 19, 24 ‘RAF Writer Command’, 17 ‘Royal Advertising Force’, 18, 253

342 Index

Directorate of Public Relations – continued spending on advertising, 18–19 staffing levels, 18 see also Air Ministry, British; Air Intelligence, RAF; Austin, A.B.; Hanbury, Felicity; Literature; Peake, Harald Distinguished Flying Cross, 59, 71, 105, 115, 135, 143, 145, 146, 147, 217, 227 Distinguished Flying Medal, 59, 71, 105, 115, 143 Distinguished Service Order, 135, 143, 145, 146, 193 ‘dogfighting’, 28, 47, 68, 104, 109, 123, 130, 146, 151, 156, 164, 167, 169, 175, 178, 184, 185, 187, 191, 196–7, 202, 217, 219, 220, 222, 224, 227, 228, 229, 235, 252, 254, 263, 269, 270, 275, 301, 305 Doncaster, 260 Dornier Do17Z aircraft, 49, 72, 105, 127, 169, 175, 181, 184, 185, 190, 191, 198, 202, 207, 230 Dorset, 49 Douglas, W. Sholto, 61, 281 Douhet, Giulio, Command of the Air, The, 37, 149, 249 Dover, 7, 23, 53, 95, 118, 123, 127, 128, 140, 155, 156, 164, 165, 176, 177, 182, 185, 186, 187, 191, 194, 207, 226–7, 237, 239, 274, 297, 301, 302, 303 Dover RDF station, 185 Dowding, Hugh, 19, 47, 52, 55, 57, 99, 111, 112, 113, 147, 287, 300, 309, pl. 24 1941 Battle despatch, 62, 308 BBC broadcast about air defence, 40, 117–18 ‘chicks’, his, 285 jealousy of his Battle success, 284 replaced as C–in-C, 61–2, 293 statue of, 313 status of, 40, 74, 90, 178, 225 system of air defence, 36, 40–3 views on Battle of Britain pamphlet, 284 see also Command and control system, RAF; Bentley Priory, RAF Drake, Francis, 228 Driffield, RAF, 54 Droitwich, 116 Dublin, 247 Duer Miller, Alice, 239

Duff Cooper, Alfred, 14, 23, 27, 30, 80–1, 85, 91, 94, 110, 237, 278, 291 Duff, Robin, 127 Dugdale, Thomas, 16, 217, 315 Dunkirk, 2, 3, 4, 5, 17, 26, 34, 35, 41, 51, 52, 62, 69, 98, 128, 144, 154, 163, 186, 212, 214, 221, 225–6, 231, 236, 242, 268, 271, 273, 297, 298, 301, 303, 316 see also Battle, and defeat, of France Dunlop, Maureen, 306 Dunsany, Lord, 235 Durham, 234 Duxford, RAF, 40, 190 Dyce, RAF, 40 Eagle Squadron, see RAF fighter Squadrons, 71 ‘Eagle’ Squadron ‘Eagle Squadron’ films, 259, 267–8, 275 East Grinstead, 223 Eastleigh, Southampton, Supermarine, 190 Edinburgh, 107, 227, 230, 263 Eire, see Ireland 11 Group, RAF Fighter Command, 16, 41, 42, 57, 65, 70, 77, 111, 117, 144, 256, 287 area covered, 40 pressure upon, 54–5 Sector Stations, 40 see also Park, Keith; Uxbridge, RAF Elgar, Edward, 272 ‘Ellan, B.J.’, see ‘The Few’, Lane, Brian (‘B.J. Ellan’) Emmett, E.V.H., 255 Empire News, 138 England, 24, 26, 32, 33, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54, 79, 88, 95, 97, 106, 122, 123, 130, 133, 149–50, 166, 176, 177, 178, 185, 200, 205, 219, 227, 228, 236, 238, 239, 241, 242, 256, 258, 259, 261, 267, 270, 283, 284, 286, 288, 296, 302 Enigma, see Ultra, Bletchley Park Essex, 49, 65, 95, 228 Eurich, Richard, 219, 220, 316, pl. 19 Evening Express (Liverpool), 138 Evening News (London), 101, 138, 202 Evening News (Portsmouth) & Southern Daily Mail, 138 Evening Standard (London), 5, 138 Invasion (pamphlet), 5 Everybody’s, 152 Exeter, 230 Exeter, RAF, 230

Index 343

Faber, Geoffrey, 279 Fairey Battle aircraft, 255 feature films Angels One Five, 276 Battle of Britain, The (1943), 176, 273–5 Battle of Britain, The (1969), 276–7 Canterbury Tale, A, 225 Ceiling Zero, 267 Conquest of the Air, The, 254 Dangerous Moonlight, 184, 258–60, 264, 268, 270, 271, 276, 277 Dark Blue World, 277 Eagle Squadron, 269–71 Fire over England, 256 First of the Few, The, 41, 253, 260–4, 276 Gap, The, 254, 258 Henry V, 79 International Squadron, 266–7, 271 Lion has Wings, The, 41, 132, 176, 183, 254–8, 273, 276 Mrs Miniver, 263, 271–3, 275 Reach for the Sky, 276 Shadow of the Wing, The, 254 Spitfire (First of the Few), 264 Target for Tonight, 260 Things to Come, 254 Warning, The, 254 Way to the Stars, The, 260, 264–6, 276, 295 Yank in the RAF, A, 267–9 ‘The Few’ Aitken, Max, 44, 135 Allard, Geoffrey, 145 Bader, Douglas, 56, 57, 130, 144–5, 155, 276, 292 Bartley, Anthony, 66 Beamish, Victor, 65, 142 Beard, John, 292 Bennions, George, 292 Bird-Wilson, Harold, ‘Birdy’, 67, 105 Boyd, Robert, 145 Brothers, Peter, 194 Brown, Peter, 67, 293 Carbury, Brian, 145 Connors, Stanley, 145 Crook, David, Spitfire Pilot, 290 Crossley, Michael, 145, 292 Cunningham, Wallace, ‘Cat’s eyes’, 143 Deere, Alan ‘Al’, 70, 145, 292 Doe, Robert, ‘Bob’, 145 Donahue, Arthur ‘Art’, Tally Ho! Yankee in a Spitfire, 51, 140, 205, 290

Donaldson, Edward, 142 Dundas, John, 145, 316 Eckford, Alan, 194 Farquhar, Andrew, 217 Fiske, William ‘Billy’, 174, 238 Frantisek, Josef, 145, pl. 11 Freeborn, John, 145 Gardner, Peter, 193, 194 Gillman, Keith, 194, 195, 208, pl. 13 Gleave, Thomas ‘Tom’, (‘RAF Casualty’) I Had a Row with a German, 290 Gleed, Ian, Arise to Conquer, 222, 290 Grice, Dennis, 156 Grice, Douglas, 194, 195, 292 Haines, Leonard, 143 Hallowes, Herbert, 145 Henson, Bernard, 194 Hillary, Richard, 216, Falling Through Space, 292, Last Enemy, The, 46, 67, 130, 236, 290–2, 293, 295, 296–7 Holmes, Ray, 71, 127, 207 Johnstone, Alexander, 130 Kayll, Robert, 193 Kent, John ‘Johnny’, 145 Kingaby, Donald, 130, 145 Lacey, John ‘Ginger’, 145 Lane, Brian (‘B.J. Ellan’), Spitfire, 290 Lock, Eric, 145 Mackenzie, Kenneth, 292 Malan, Adolph ‘Sailor’, 145, 292, pl. 4 McDowall, Andrew, 145 McKellar, Archibald, 145, 292 Mouchotte, Rene, 216 Mungo-Park, John, 145 Neil, Thomas, ‘Tom’, 217, pl. 17 Nicolson, John ‘Nick’, 68, 71, 129–30, 145–7, 159, 174, 206, 223, 292 O’Brian, Peter, 78 Page, Geoffrey, 67 Parrott, Peter, 212–13 Peel, John, 130 Proctor, John, 193 Rolls, William, 17, 69 Simpson, John, 129, 292–3 Smythe, Rupert, 193, 194 Stanford Tuck, Robert ‘Bob’, 64, 66, 130, 145 Stephen, Harbourne, 128, 130, 145, 292 Stoney, George, 128

344 Index

‘The Few’ – continued Sutton, Frank, Way of a Pilot, The, 289, 290 Townsend, Peter, 69, 156 Unwin, George ‘Grumpy’, 145 Villa, John, 143, 145 Wellum, Geoffrey, 44, 67, 293, 304 Wissler, Denis, 105 Worrall, John, 194 see also war art appendix, 315–16 15 September, 1940, 6, 42, 54, 88, 101, 103, 122, 127, 129, 158, 180, 185, 186, 187, 207, 224, 261, 274 aircraft losses, German, 56, 84, 96, 101, 103, 282 press coverage, 95–6, 141, 149, 157 significance, 6, 56–7, 84, 282, 305 Fighter Association, Battle of Britain, 313 Fighter Command, RAF, 1, 4, 5, 19, 21, 35, 65, 66, 73, 74, 75, 76–7, 78, 84, 86, 90, 92–3, 110, 113, 114, 117, 130, 146, 155, 163, 166, 167, 168, 172, 178, 179, 182, 195, 200, 207, 211, 220, 225, 226, 249, 250, 252, 255–6, 258, 260, 265, 268, 281, 284, 287, 288, 294, 297–301, 305, 310, 312–14 Order of Battle, 40 pilot shortages, 46, 58 senior officers’ conference, 17 October, 57, 61 strength at end of Battle, 46, 58 strength at start of Battle, 46, 48 wartime books on: Fighter Command (see Austin, A.B.); Readiness at Dawn (see ‘Blake’) see also airfields; Air Intelligence, RAF; Bentley Priory; command and control system, RAF; Dowding, Hugh; Groups (10, 11, 12, 13), RAF films access to RAF for filming, 24–5, 163, 253–4 Battle of Britain, on, 41, 56, 258–66, 271–5 censorship, 24–5, 163, 252, 260 control of film stocks, 29, 31, 162, 252 film authenticity, 164, 253, 260, 265–6, 267, 271 post-war, 275–7 pre-war, 254 propaganda, as, 251–3

RAF resistance to films about the Battle, 24, 252 see also cinema; feature films; individual actors; Ministry of Information ‘short films’; newsreels Filton, RAF, 40 Finland, 247 First World War, 9, 15, 16, 27, 36, 37, 66, 126, 132, 152, 177, 214, 216, 217, 255, 278, 281, 288, 291, 293, 295, 305, 306, 311 Fleet Air Arm, 207, 305 Fleet Street, 29, 30 Flight, 13, 82, 152, 153, 154, 156, 157–8, 196, 206, 209–10, 213, 267 floatplanes, Red Cross, Luftwaffe, 72, 156, 294 Focke Wolf aircraft Fw187 Zerst¨orer, 51 Fw190, 270 Fw200C Condor, 5 Forbes, A. & H. Allen, Ten Fighter Boys, 292 Foreign Office, British, 10, 28, 81, 176 Forester, C.S., 269 Forth Bridge, 119, 180 Foss, Jonathan, 213 Foster, Reginald, Dover Front, 301 Fougasse, K. (‘Fougasse’), 199, 212 14 July 1940 broadcast by Charles Gardner, see Gardner, Charles (BBC) Fox, 192, 193 Fox Film Unit, 193 Foxgrove, 174 Fox Movietone, 176 Fox Smith, C., 228, 235 France, 2, 11, 14, 19, 22, 25, 26, 35, 36, 37, 39, 41, 43, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 56, 58, 62, 72, 75, 98, 124, 125, 141, 142, 143, 154, 156, 166, 172, 175, 177, 178, 212, 219, 226, 236, 242, 245, 246, 248, 249, 277 see also Battle, and defeat, of France Franco, General, 48 French Fleet, The, 2, 52 Frost, Richard, 222, 316 Galland, Adolf, 46, 71, 72, 73 Gallup surveys, 82, 241, 272 Gardner, Charles (BBC), 117, 118, 141

Index 345

14 July 1940 broadcast, 123–5, 207; editorial process and censorship of, 125; listener reactions to, 126–7; compared with a sports event, 126 reports from France, (A. A. S. F. ), 22, 117, 141, 297 Gardner, James, Battle of Britain, The (Penguin), 305, pl. 23 Garnett, David War in the Air, 77, 300 Battle of Britain, The (Penguin), 305, pl. 23 Garson, Greer, 271 Gaumont British News, 162, 166, 168 General Post Office, 153 Geneva, 247 George VI, King, 62, 73–4, 80, 90, 146, 158, 164, 173, 192, 270 Geraldo, 235 Gerbrandy, Professor, 88 German Condor Legion, 48–9 Germany, 1, 5, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 37, 39, 48, 49, 52, 63, 76, 86, 87, 89, 95, 102, 108, 112, 116, 140, 148, 155, 156, 157, 166, 171, 172, 173, 186, 198, 200, 202, 204, 217, 219, 236, 238–9, 241, 244–5, 246, 247, 249, 251, 257–9, 269, 292, 299, 307 see also Goebbels, Josef; Goering, Hermann; Hitler, Adolf; Luftwaffe Gibson, Guy, Enemy Coast Ahead, 42, 44, 56, 195 Giles, Carl, 198 Glasgow, 101, 231 Glasgow Evening Times, 138 Goebbels, Josef, 172, 199, 200, 201, 203, 228, 245, 285, 286, pl., 9 Goering, Hermann, 6, 46, 48, 49, 51, 52, 54, 57, 62, 71, 72, 77, 101, 141, 150, 157, 165, 172, 175, 177, 182, 185, 194, 197, 198, 199, 200, 202, 203, 239, 274, 284, 285 Goodwin, Albert, 281 Gotha bombers, 36 GPO Film Unit, see Ministry of Information, Crown Film Unit Grable, Betty, 268 Grafton Galleries, 196 gramophone recordings, HMV, 85 Granada Cinemas, 32 graphic artists, see cartoons; posters Grave, C., 199

Graves, Charles, Thin Blue Line, The, 45, 224–5, 300 Gravesend, RAF, 41 Graves, Robert, 293 Gray, Sally, 259 Great Depression, 162 Great War, The, see First World War Greece, 247, 249 Grey, Colin, History of the Air Ministry, A, 26, 28, 38; British Fighter Planes, 47; The Aeroplane, 152 Groups, RAF Fighter Command, see Bentley Priory, RAF; Dowding, Hugh; Groups (10, 11, 12, 13), RAF gun cine-camera footage, 104–5, 155, 156, 164, 169, 170, 184, 186, 187, 190, 196–7, 253, 259, 263, 283, 300 Halifax Herald, The, 285 Halifax, Lord, 34, 85 Halifax Mail, The, 285 Hall, Edward, 79, 80 Hamburg, 237, 244 Hammerton, John, 153 Hampshire, 49, 235 Hanbury, Felicity, 16, 17, 221, 281, 285 Happy Mag, The, 306 ‘Hardest day’, the (18 August 1940), 54 Harewood, Lord, 107 Harloff, Dr C.E.H., 88 Harmsworth King, Cecil, 23, 135, 136, 137, 138 Harris, Arthur, ‘Bomber’, 13, 14, 18, 24, 38, 56 Harrisson, Tom, 279, 301 see also Mass-Observation Harwood, H.M., London Front, 242; While London Burns, 94, Hawker Hurricane aircraft, 7, 38, 50, 52, 57, 59, 60, 62, 64, 65, 66, 70, 82, 88, 90, 105, 107, 125, 127, 128, 129, 132, 142, 145, 148, 149, 150, 156, 157, 159, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 177, 178, 180, 183, 184, 186, 189, 190, 192, 193, 194, 196, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 209, 210, 211, 213, 214, 217, 218, 222, 225, 226, 231, 232, 235, 253, 255, 257, 258, 260, 261, 264, 265, 266, 274, 276, 281, 282, 283, 284, 287, 288, 289, 292, 294, 297, 305, 316, pl. 15

346 Index

Hawkes, Jaquetta, Prehistoric Britain, 249–50 Hawkinge, RAF, 55, 185, 193, 194, 208, 274 Haworth (graphic artist), 206 Heinkel aircraft, 132, 169, 185, 206, 228, 235 He111P, 49, 105, 118–19, 164, 169, 170, 177, 180, 181, 184, 185, 190, 197, 203, 206, 218, 259, 263, 267, 277, 316, pl. 8 He113, 50 Helmore, W., Air Commentary, 77 Hendon four fighter fund, 232 Hendon, RAF, 38, 255 see also RAF Museum, Hendon Henry V, 78 chroniclers, 78–80 play, 78–9 Herbert, A.P., Siren Song, 303 Herbertson, A.G., 226 heritage and commemoration, 310, 313–14 Hermann, H., Rise and Fall of the Luftwaffe, The, 307 His Majesty’s Stationary Office, 280, 287, 294 Hitler, Adolf, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 34, 38–9, 48, 56, 60, 61, 63, 72, 75, 86, 88, 101, 103, 111, 132, 135–6, 141, 147, 155, 157, 158, 166, 168, 171, 172, 173, 177, 178, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 225, 228, 241, 246, 247, 248, 273, 274, 275, 287, 298, 308, 311 abandons invasion plans, 6, 56–7, 62, 158, 246, 311 British Empire, attitude to, 34 A last Appeal to Reason by Adolf Hitler (speech and leaflet), 52 rise to power, 37 War Directive No. 16, 52 War Directive No. 17, 5, 53 see also Operation Sea Lion Hoare, Samuel, 14 Holden, Mary, 235 Holinshed, Raphael, 79–80 Holland, 56, 72, 248, 292 Hollywood, 252, 273 home front, 8, 9, 10, 11, 20, 25–6, 31, 35, 75, 87, 90, 93, 96–104, 133, 138, 150, 152, 157, 163, 212, 224–30, 233, 249, 273, 275, 287, 301, 311

Home Guard, 68, 177 Home Intelligence, 82, 103, 104, 107, 109, 120, 121, 126, 131, 224, 226, 227, 229, 230, 231, 233, 237, 249 Churchill’s reaction to reports, 32–3 nature and content of reports, 31–3 Regional Information Officers, 32, 228 regions, 32 sources of intelligence, 31–3 Hooper, Bill, 205 Hore-Belisha, Leslie, 137–8 Horizon, 152, 279 Hornchurch, RAF, 40, 55, 255 Howard, Leslie, 262, 264 Hungary, 247 Hunt, H.M., 304 Hurricane aircraft, see Hawker Hurricane aircraft Iceland, 221 iconography of the Battle, see advertisements; cartoons; photography; posters; war art Ilford & Co, 196 Illingworth, L.G., 199 Illustrated, 13, 152, 155, 213 Illustrated London News, 51, 61, 88, 106, 111, 127, 130, 152, 153, 155, 156, 157, 159, 190, 193, 194–5, 196, 197, 198, 207, 217, 221, 235, 298 British Air Forces (book), 207 Imperial War Museum, 128, 222 India, 86, 234 Ingersoll, Ralph (US), Report on England, 11, 23, 29, 237, 242, 302 Innes, Hammond, Attack Alarm, 70 Inskip, Thomas, 38 Intelligence Officer, see Air Intelligence, RAF Ireland, 59, 100, 234, 244, 247 Isle of Wight, 238 Ismay, Major-General, 77, 106 Italy, 91, 128, 129, 130, 151, 197, 204, 245–6, 251 see also Mussolini, Benito; Regia Aeronautica; wireless Jamaica, 59 James, T.C.G., 112, 113, 308–10 Japan, 46, 60, 236, 247, 249, 311 Jesse, F.T., 180, London Front, 225-6; While London Burns, 102

Index 347

John Bull, 152 Johns, W.E. Spitfire Parade (‘Biggles’), 305–6 Worrals of the Waaf, 306 Jones, H.A., 16 ‘Josef’, Sergeant, 292 Joubert, Philip, 108, 110, 133, 183, 184, 185, 244, 295 broadcasts to America, 131, 158 excessive censorship of his scripts, 131 reactions to his broadcasts, 14, 131, 227 War Commentaries broadcasts, 131–2 Joyce, William, ‘Lord Haw Haw’, 119–20, 244 Junkers aircraft, 40, 169, 185, 202, 228 Ju87 Stuka, 50, 72, 124, 129, 164, 184, 185, 194, 197, 202–3, 267, 289, 299 Ju88A, 49, 184, 201, 206 Kain, E.J. ‘Cobber’, 142–3, 144, 298 Kanalkrankheit, see Channel, The Keene, Louis, 222 Kenley, RAF, 40, 55, 74 Kennington, Eric, 216–18, 221, 315, pl. 17; Drawing the RAF, 217 Kent, 49, 53, 70, 83, 95, 128, 186, 225, 226, 227, 233, 238, 300, 301 Kent Messenger, 138, 301 Kesselring, Albert, 49, 52 Keun, Odette, And Hell Followed, 53 Keystone, 192 Kiel Canal, 254 King, H.M., 235 Kinross, J.D., 118 Kirkwood, Pat, 235 Kirton-in-Lindsey, RAF, 40, 267 Knickebein, 58 Knight, Eric, 273, 275 Knox, Colonel, 107 Knox, E.V., 228 Korda, Alexander, 41, 254, 255, 273 Kriegsmarine, 2–3, 5–6, 51 lack of moral fibre, see morale Laidler, G., (‘Pont’), 199 Landau, Rom, Wing, The, 42, 73, 300 Langdon, David, 199 L’Arm´ee de l’air, 51 Lawrence of Arabia (T.E. Lawrence), The Mint, 44 Lawrence, A.K., 222, 316 Leeds, 107, 109, 226

Leeds Mercury & Yorkshire Post, 138 Lehmann-Russbueldt, O., Germany’s Air Force, 48 Leicester, 109 Leigh-Mallory, Trafford, 40, 57, 62, 222 see also ‘Big Wings’ Liberty, 152 Library of Congress, 296 Liddell Hart, Basil, 37, 60 Lidell, Alvar, 122 Life, 152, 292 Lilliput, 152, 202 ‘line shooting’, 200, 265, 266, 290 Linmar, E., 294 Listener, The, 152 literature censorship, 278, 289, 290, 293, 297 children’s fiction and non-fiction, 304–7 paper shortages, 278, 279 as propaganda, 278–80 wartime challenges, 278–80 see also authors, published (civilian); poets and poetry Liverpool Echo, 138 Llangollen, 264 Lockheed Hudson aircraft, 242, 268 London, 12, 19, 27, 29, 30, 32, 33, 46, 74, 82, 83, 91, 94, 106, 108, 109, 111–12, 117, 121, 122, 123, 126, 129, 135, 137, 138, 140, 148–9, 172, 177, 186, 187, 190, 196, 200, 201, 204, 221, 224, 228, 233, 234, 235, 238, 241, 242, 245, 254, 259, 268, 272, 274, 292, 301, 305 air battles visible over, 149, 225, 227, 229–30 attacks against, 6, 50, 54, 56–8, 69, 84, 88, 89, 95, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 103, 122, 129, 133, 141, 145, 150, 157–8, 159, 239–40, 245, 282, 286, 288, 299 London Film Productions, 254 London Gazette, The, 146, 154 ‘Lord Haw Haw’, see Joyce, William Lothian, Lord, 94, 236–7, 241–2 Loughborough, 121 Low Countries, The, 14, 50, 52, 53 Low, David, 198 Lowestoft, 229 Luftflotte, see Luftwaffe, organisation

348 Index

Luftwaffe, 2, 3, 17, 20, 24, 33, 48–51, 66, 77, 84, 86, 87, 88, 89, 93, 94, 97, 100, 102, 103, 105, 108, 109, 117, 127, 129, 131, 140, 142, 144, 147, 148, 149, 150, 154, 156, 158, 159, 164, 173, 176, 182, 185, 187, 204–5, 206, 207, 213, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222–3, 230, 234, 237, 238, 239, 245, 246, 247, 252–3, 255–9, 261, 269–70, 274, 284, 285, 287, 288, 294, 298, 301, 302, 307 aircrew morale, 71–3 changing views about air war, 71–3, 90, 101 commanders, 49 faltering air campaign, 56–8 intelligence about RAF, 20, 24, 51–2, 55, 60, 111, 255 losses, aircraft, 6, 35, 60, 67, 98–9, 101, 104, 113, 114–15, 155, 227–8, 241, 308, 310 losses, aircrew, 6, 60, 241 negative British media portrayals, 1, 157, 168, 174–5, 178, 182, 200, 201, 204, 224, 248 organisation, 49, 113–14 pre-Battle confidence, 51–2 pre-war build-up, 48–9, 177 prisoners-of-war, as, 52, 72, 174, 175, 178, 197–8 propaganda about strength, 7, 48, 106, 302 Quartermaster General aircraft returns, 60, 309 strength at start of Battle, 4, 49 tasked with destroying RAF, 5, 51 see also aircraft by manufacturer; Air power; aircraft claims, Luftwaffe; aircraft claims, RAF Luxembourg, 248 Lympne, RAF, 55 Lynd, Sylvia, R.A.F., May 1940, 303 Lynn, Vera, 235–6 Lytton, Neville, Life in Unoccupied France, 249 MacColl, D.S., 228 MacKenzie, A.J., Propaganda Boom, 9, 10, 29, 162, 246, 247, 251 magazines, 64, 81, 82, 96, 97, 105–6, 134, 143, 146, 189, 190, 192, 193, 197, 206, 208 censorship, 159

circulation, 152 content, 153–4 coverage of the air war, 5, 154–9 paper shortages, impact of, 151 propaganda, as, 151–9 see also advertisements; cartoons; individual titles Magee, John Gillespie, 293, 295–6, 297 Malta, 5, 62 see also Park, Keith; Ministry of Information publications, Air Battle of Malta, The Manchester, 107, 109, 226, 227, 237, 264 Manchester Guardian, 76 Mansion House, London, 84 Manston, RAF, 55, 70, 74 ‘Mutiny’, 70–1 Marathon, Battle of, 283, 311 Marchant, Hilde, Women and Children Last, 301 March of Time (newsreel), see newsreels and clips, Britain’s RAF Marne, Battle of the, 283, 311 Martin, John, 81 Martlesham Heath, RAF, 55 Masefield, John, 52 Nine Days Wonder, The, 303 Mass-Observation (M-O), 26, 119, 140, 162, 176, 180, 183, 224, 235, 249, 253, 257, 260, 263, 272, 275, 301 comment on MOI aims and methodology, 32 diarists, 32, 81, 97, 101, 103, 224, 233, 249 Home Propaganda (book), 9-10, 11, 18-9, 121, 122, 134, 139, 182, 186, 187, 199, 212, 279, 280, 281 origins, 32 War Begins at Home (book), 22, 28, 31, 37, 235; see also Harrisson, Tom Masters, David, So Few, 290, 292 McGivern, Cecil, 118, 119 McGrath, Raymond, 220, 316 Mediterranean, The, 245–6, 311 Mee, Arthur, Nineteen Forty, 226 Melbourne Argus, 200 Menken, Arthur, 176 Menzies, Robert, 86 Mercury, God of communication, 204 Mers-El-Kebir (Oran), 52

Index 349

Messerschmitt aircraft, 107, 124, 125, 132, 133 Me108, 184 Me109E, 23, 46, 47, 49, 50–1, 57, 60–1, 66, 109, 129, 145, 149, 150, 164, 169, 175, 185, 191, 194, 201, 202, 203, 263, 269, 277, 282, 283, 291, 315 Me110C, 49, 51, 57, 61, 105, 145, 150, 166, 184, 190, 201, 202, 218, 223 Messerschmitt, Willy, 50 MGM Studios, 239, 271–2 MI5, 11 Michie, A. & W. Graebner, Their Finest Hour, 292, 299 Middle Wallop, RAF, 55 Milch, Erhard, 52 Miles Master aircraft, 173 Military Medal, 207 Millar, Max, 206–7 Miller, Alice Duer, The White Cliffs, 239 Mills, John, 265 ‘Ministry of Aggravation’, see Ministry of Information Ministry of Aircraft Production, 131, 156, 209–10 Ministry of Defence, 313–14 Ministry of Home Security, 94, 95 Ministry of Information, 25–31, 93, 94, 109–10, 116–17, 119, 125, 127, 131, 133, 139, 146, 161, 164, 175, 176, 192, 196, 208, 212, 219, 220, 236, 237, 239, 242, 244, 279, 280, 281, 286, 287, 294, 302, 313 Crown Film Unit, 179 difficulties with effective propaganda, 27–8 film division, 31, 163, 179, 269, 270, 271, 273 ministers, 27–8 ‘Ministry of Aggravation’, 27 mobile film projector vans, 179 ‘Mystery of Information’, 26 organisation and remit, 27–8 poor engagement with Battle, 27–8 press and censorship division, 30 see also films; Home Intelligence; Ministry of Information ‘short’ films Ministry of Information publications, Air Battle of Malta, The (see Pudney, J.); Battle of Britain, The (1941 – see

separate entry); Battle of Britain, The (1943 – see separate entry); Battle of the Atlantic, The, 285; Bomber Command, 78, 285; Front Line 1940-1941, 287; Roof Over Britain, 287–8 Ministry of Information ‘short’ films, 179–187, 252, 258, 269, 270, 273 Behind the Guns, 186 Britain Can Take It (and book), 52, 186 Empire’s New Armies (series), 186 Fighter Pilot, 182–5, 274 Flying Elephants, 180 Front Line, The, 164, 175, 185–6, 187, 270 London Can Take It, 186 London’s Reply to Germany’s False Claims, 186 Out of Chaos, 220 RAF Action, 186 Squadron 992, 119, 128, 179–80 Story of an Air Communiqu´e, The, 21, 110, 180–2, 274 Mitcham, 233 Mitchell, Billy, 37 Mitchell, Reginald. J., 158, 260–4, 276 Modern Woman, 306 M¨ olders, Werner, 66 Monks, Noel, Squadrons Up! 297–8, 301; Taking Off!, 305; With the RAF, 305 Monnington, Thomas, 221, 316 Monty Python, 201 morale, 8, 93, 108, 134, 224, 248, 249, 280 civilian, 8, 25–6, 82, 98, 106, 107, 113, 115, 121, 131, 133, 159, 185, 198, 212, 213, 226, 227, 228–9, 230, 233, 235, 252, 294, 311 defining, 25–7 fighter pilots, 8, 64–6, 67, 68, 70, 71, 73, 90, 92, 140, 141, 201, 217 ground crews, 70–1 lack of moral fibre, 68–9, 72 Luftwaffe, 71–3, 292 measuring, 31–3 ‘psychological moment’, 26–7 Morecambe, 260, 272 Morrison, Herbert, 136 Munich crisis, 27, 39 Murrow, Edward ‘Ed’ (US), 85, 131, 237; This is London, 22, 30, 239–40, 302

350 Index

music, popular and film, 255, 259, 260–1, 263–4, 272 Hampshire Spitfire Song, The, 235 I Fell in Love with an Airman, 235 If I only had Wings, 235 Lords of the Air, 235 Ole Man River, 76 A Pair of Silver Wings, 236 RAF March Past, 268 Spitfire Prelude, and Fugue, 261, 264 Spitfire Song, The, 235 There’ll always be an England, 178 Victory Roll, The, 235 Warsaw Concerto, The, 255, 259–60 We’ll meet again, 235–6 see also individual musicians, composers Mussolini, Benito, 151, 201, 205, 245, pl. 9 Musto, Walter, 101, 102, 103 ‘Mystery of Information’, see Ministry of Information NAAFI, 119 Narracott, Arthur, War News had Wings, 298; How the RAF Works, 300 Nash, Paul, 16, 17, 215, 217–20, 221, 222, 315, pl. 18 National Gallery, The, 219–21 Nelson, Lord, 284 Neptune, 201, pl. 14 Nerney, J.C. (AM librarian), 17 ‘Never in the field of human conflict’ tribute, see Churchill, Winston, 20.8.1940 speech (and ‘to so few’ epigraph) Newall, Cyril, 14 Newcastle-on-Tyne, 82, 107–8, 229, 233 Newcastle-on-Tyne, RAF, 40 ‘New Elizabethans’, 7, 78, 228, 256 Newfoundland, 59, 111 news, 74, 81, 83, 106, 107, 117, 135, 137, 138–9, 159, 189, 224, 227, 237, 240, 244, 245, 249 distrust of, British, 22, 29, 108–9, 109–11, 119–22, 134, 139 engagement with, May-November, 97–8, 1940 reporting cycle, 96–7, see also British Broadcasting Corporation; newspapers News Chronicle, 100, 136, 140, 291, 294, 298 News of the Day, 176

News of the World, 137, 139, 140 newspapers, 29, 31, 64, 94, 97, 99–100, 101, 105–6, 109, 117, 120, 126, 132, 151, 153, 156, 159, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 198, 199, 206, 208, 209, 216, 237, 246, 278, 290 Audit Bureau of Circulation Ltd, 134–5, 152 censorship, 21, 29, 30, 139 circulation, 135–40 coverage of the air war, 5, 81, 89, 140–51, 229 lack of trust in content, 134, 139 main titles and content, 134–40, 140–51 paper shortages, 134 propaganda, as, 9, 12, 134–51 see also advertisements; British Broadcasting Corporation, competition between BBC and press; cartoons; Directorate of Public Relations (AM), air communiqu´es (bulletins); individual daily and Sunday titles newsreels, 24, 29, 31, 64, 96, 97, 110, 139, 158, 161–3, 189, 197–8, 216, 231, 239, 251, 252, 253, 258, 274, 278, 290 censorship, 30, 162, 163 companies, 12, 162 content, 163–5 coverage of Battle, 73, 74, 163–75 see also American newsreels; newsreels and clips newsreels and clips ‘The Gen’ (newsreel of Battle of Britain, 1945), 187 Aerial Blitzkrieg – Continues, 171 All in a Fighter’s Day’s Work, 168 American RAF Pilot Honoured at Burial, 174 American Squadron with the RAF, 173 Battle of Britain, 174–5 Beaten Back, 164, 167, 175 Britain’s Air Toll of Nazi Blitzkrieg, 171 Britain’s RAF, 176–9, 241, 273, 275 Hell Fire Corner, 164, 167 Hot Moments at a Fighter Station, 169 President Benes with Czech Air Force, 172–3 RAF Fighters Ever on the Alert, 165–6 RAF Fighters in Close Up, 168–9, 172 RAF Smash Germany’s Aerial Blitzkrieg, 166–7

Index 351

Royal Air Force up and at ’em, 165, 168 Royal; Visit to the RAF, 173 Tactics of Air Supremacy, The, 169–70 Well Done! The Fighter Command, 167 With an Allied Fighter Command, 166, 168 Won V.C. in First Fight, 17 New Statesman and Nation, 152 New Writing, 152 New York, 131, 196, 236, 237, 238, 241, 245, 273 New Yorker, 91, 101, 237 New York Herald Tribune, 236, 237, 302 New York’s Museum of Modern Art, 221 New York Sun, 237 New York Times, 236, 237, 238, 241 New Zealand, 58, 88, 130, 221 Ney, Richard, 271 Nicolson, Harold, 27–8, 81, 129–30, 225 Niven, David, 261 Nockolds, Roy, 220, 316 Norfolk, 49 North American Harvard aircraft, 242 Northcliffe, Lord, 27, 136 Northern Ireland, 40, 58, 82, 234 Northolt, RAF, 40, 65, 74 North Weald, RAF, 40, 65 Norway, 22, 26, 49, 54, 108, 134, 140, 248 Nottingham, 40, 109, 121, 233 Nuremberg, 60 Oberon, Merle, 255 Observer, The, 138 Observer Corps, 40, 43, 92, 286, 287 Olivier, Laurence, 79 100-octane fuel, 46–7, 242 operational security, see Air Intelligence, RAF Operation Sea Lion, 1–6, 148, 151, 155, 307, 309 abandoned, 6, 57, 62, 158, 311 air supremacy over Channel, 6, 51, 57, 311 expected outcome, 51–2 negative impact on Nazi prestige, 244–5, 246 planning, 51 preparations, 2 revisionist opinions, 3 see also ‘Battle of the Barges’ Oran (Mers-el-Kebir), 52

Orde, Cuthbert, 193, 221, 315, pl. 11 Pilots of Fighter Command, 217 Orkney Islands, 264 Orwell, George, 63, 106, 107, 286, 312 Lion and the Unicorn, The, 298 O’Shea, Tessie, 235 Osmond, Edward, 206 Ourselves in Wartime, 26 Oxford, 197, 220, 271, 281, 291 Oxford University Air Squadron, 46, 291 Oxford University Press, 279 Panter-Downes, Mollie, London War Notes, 91, 101, 102, 126, 226, 237 Paramount, 176 Paris, 219 Park, Keith, 16, 286–7 later war service, 62 role during Battle, 40, 43, 55, 57, 65, 74, 83 statue, 313 treatment after Battle, 61–2, 284 Parliament (Houses of Lords and Commons), 16, 18, 21, 27, 33, 34, 68, 75, 76, 78, 82, 83, 84, 85, 94, 107, 176, 244 Path´e, 176 Path´e Gazette, 162, 163, 164, 165, 168, 169, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175 Payne, Jack, 235 Peake, Felicity, see Hanbury, Felicity Peake, Harald, 15–18, 21, 23, 215, 217, 218, 222, 288 Pearl Harbor, 270 Peck, Richard, 14–15, 252 Pembrey, RAF, 40 People, The, 137, 138 ‘People’s War’, The, 26, 187, 230, 272, 299 Perry, Colin, 45, 81, 101, 102–3, 126, 131, 191, 233 Perseus, see Bellerophon (and Perseus) P´etain, Marshal, 249 Pett, Norman, 201 ‘Phoney War’, The, 13, 22, 52, 117, 258, 297 photographers, see photography photographic agencies, see Central Press; Fox; Keystone; Topical photography, 18, 97, 106, 135, 137, 138–9, 147, 153, 156, 157, 189–98, 232 censorship, 23, 29, 30 combat, 189–91

352 Index

photography – continued contrails, 191 exhibitions, 17, 196–7 ‘The Few’, 141–2, 144, 145, 155, 156, 159, 192–6, pls. 3, 5, 10, 12, 13, 16 photo-essays, 151, 153, 155, 192–3 pilots’ attire, 195–6 stock photographs, RAF, 29, 156, 189–90 see also photographic agencies Piccaver, Alfred, 178 Picture Post, 82, 152, 153, 155, 156, 157, 190, 192, 193, 194, 197, 203, 217, 234, 247, 301, 306 Piece of Cake (TV drama, 1988), 277 pilots’ memoirs and biographies, RAF fighter, 16, 288–93 AM restrictions, 288 nature of, 289–90 post-war memoirs, 293 published during the war: Arise to Conquer (see ‘The Few’, Gleed, I.); Combat Report (see Bolitho, H.); Falling Through Space (see ‘The Few’, Hillary, R.); Fighter Pilot (see Richey, P.); I Had a Row with a German (see ‘The Few’, Gleave, T.); Last Enemy, The (see ‘The Few’, Hillary, R.); Spitfire (see ‘The Few’, Lane, B.); Spitfire Pilot (see ‘The Few’, Crook, D.); Tally Ho! Yankee in a Spitfire (see ‘The Few’, Donahue, A.); Ten Fighter Boys (see Forbes, A. & H. Allen); Way of a Pilot, The (see ‘The Few’, Sutton, F.) vetting of, 17–18, 288 pilots, RAF fighter average ages, 46, 192 British appreciation for, 225–30, 235–6 heroicisation as warrior-heroes during Battle, 7, 73–90, 101–4, 105, 115, 140–7, 158–9, 192–5, 255, 256, 258, 264, 268, 269, 274, 275, 312, 314 international appreciation for, 240–2, 248–9 junior officers, 44–6 later RAF careers, 44–5 losses, junior officers, 59 losses, SNCOs, 59 recruitment, 44–6 school education, 44 SNCOs, 44–5

social stratification, 44–6, pl. 10 training, 45–6 see also BBC broadcasts by fighter pilots; ‘The Few’; newsreels; Ministry of Information ‘short’; pilots’ memoirs and biographies, RAF fighter; tributes to fighter pilots; RAF aces pilots, RAF fighter, nationalities Australia, 58 Belgium, 58 Britain, 58 Canada, 58 Czechoslovakia, 58 England, 58 France, 58 Ireland, 59 Jamaica, 59 Newfoundland, 59 New Zealand, 58 Poland, 58 Rhodesia, 59 South Africa, 58 United States, 59 Pinner, 233 Pitchforth, Roland, 221 Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 296 PM, 237, 302 poets and poetry civilian poetry, 228, 235, 303–4 RAF poetry, 288, 291, 293–7 Poland, 50, 58, 62, 73–4, 84, 86, 88–9, 132, 167, 168, 173, 248, 258–9, 276 Polish Air Force, 91, 258–9, 276 Political Warfare Executive, 10 population during 1940, British, 97, 119 Portal, Charles, 13, 14, 15, 287 Portland harbour, 219, 220, 316, pl. 19 portraiture, see war art Portugal, 247 posters, 13, 18, 82, 189, 212–14, 222, 223, pl. 7 post-war Battle historiography, 3, 63, 307–10, 313 Power, Tyrone, 268 Pratt Boorman, H.R., Hell’s Corner, 1940, 301 press, see newspapers Priestley, J.B., 38, 126, 153 audiences for, 132 frustration with aircraft claims propaganda, 132–3 hostility from politicians, 132

Index 353

Postscripts broadcasts, content of, 132–3 published as Postscripts, 132 Prince of Wales warship, 5 propaganda black, 11, 244 books on aspects of: Home Propaganda (see M-O); Propaganda (see Bernays, E.); Propaganda Boom (see MacKenzie, A.J.); Propaganda in the Next War (see Rogerson, S.); War Begins at Home (see M-O) ‘cold’, 12, 130, 189, 214, 313 defining, 6–8, 9–12 formal, 12 grey, 11, 12 ‘hot’, 12, 93, 96–7, 134, 189, 214, 313 incidental, 12 informal, 12 phases, Chronology; books on aspects of: Home Propaganda (see M-O); Propaganda (see Bernays, E.); Propaganda Boom (see MacKenzie, A.J.); Propaganda in the Next War (see Rogerson, S.); War Begins at Home (see M-O) ‘warm’, 12, 214, 313 white, 11, 12, 244 ‘Prune’, Pilot Officer, 198, 205 publicity, defining, 10 public relations, 12–13, 14–15, 18, 19 Pudney, John Air Battle of Malta, The, 62, 295 Dispersal Point, 294–5 Punch, 152, 153, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 212, 226, 228, 234, 235, 245, 294, pls. 9, 14 Radcliffe, Cyril, 33 Radio Direction Finding (Radar), 24, 39, 40, 42, 43, 49, 54, pl. 1 see also command and control system, RAF Radio News Reel, 127 Radio Times, 152, 153, 190 Raeder, Admiral, 6 RAF foundation as independent service, 36–7 interwar under funding, 36–7 interwar rearmament schemes, 37–8 increasing spending on fighters, 37–9 wartime books on: Cloud Cover (see Barnes, D.G.); Flight to Victory (see

Walker, R.); How the RAF Works (see Narracott, A.); RAF in Action, The (see Williams, W.T.S.); Royal Air force, The, (1935, 1940 – see Stanhope Sprigg, T.); So Few (see Masters, D.); Taking Off! (see Monks, N.); Thin Blue Line, The (see Graves, C.); Wing, The (see Landau, R.); With the RAF (see Monks, N.) see also air power; ‘Trenchard Memorandum’; Trenchard, Viscount ‘Boom’ RAF aces, 64, 66, 71, 141–5 Air Ministry resistance to term, 143, 243 definition of, 143 policy of anonymity, 115, 128, 130, 141–3 press demands for pilots’ details, 142–3 situational awareness, 64 see also pilots, RAF fighter RAF Benevolent Fund, 285 RAF censorship, see Directorate of Public Relations (AM) RAF Commands, 12, 13, 19, 25, 196, 221 Coastal Command, 4, 39, 178, 287 Maintenance Command, 287 Training Command, 287 see also Bomber Command; Fighter Command, RAF ‘Raff’, 198, 205 RAF fighter pilots, see pilots, RAF fighter RAF fighter squadrons (mentioned in the text) 1 Squadron, 297 19 Squadron, 183, 190, 292 pl. 5 29 Squadron, 178 32 Squadron, 193–5, pl. 12 54 Squadron, 70, 292 65 Squadron, 192 71 ‘Eagle’ Squadron, 86, 129, 155, 173, 243, 266, 269–70, 290 73 Squadron, 297 74 Squadron, 128 pl. 4 92 Squadron, 66 111 Squadron, 190 242 Squadron, 144 249 Squadron, 217 257 Squadron, 66 264 Squadron, 267, pl. 3 303 Squadron, pl. 11 600 Squadron, 70

354 Index

RAF fighter squadrons – continued 601 Squadron, 135, 302 609 Squadron, 15, 16 610 Squadron, 193, pl. 3 615 Squadron, 74 616 Squadron, 15, pl. 5 RAF Film Production Unit, 187 RAF intelligence, see Air Intelligence, RAF RAF Museum, Hendon, 222 RAF Staff College, 309 RAF Volunteer Reserve, 14, 19, 45–6, 217 ‘RAF Writer Command’, see Directorate of Public Relations Rall, Gunther, 67 Ravilious, Eric, 221, 316 Reader’s Digest, 152 Read, Herbert, Paul Nash, 315 Reading, 227, 229, 233, 237, 249 Reagan, Ronald, 267 Red Army, 89 Regia Aeronautica, 128, 129, 130, 151, 197, 205, 242 Regional Information Officers, see Home Intelligence Repulse, warship, 5 revisionism, of Battle, 1–6, 63 Reynolds, F., 199 Reynold’s News, 138, 198 Reynolds, Quentin (US), 269–70 Britain Can Take It, 51–2, 186 52, 186, 269–70 Rhodesia, 59 Rice, Tilly, 101, 102, 121 Richardson, Ralph, 255 Richey, Paul, Fighter Pilot, 277, 288–9 RKO British Productions, 258 Robertson, Ben (US), I saw England, 19, 23, 237, 301, 302 Robertson, C.P., 13, 16 Robinson, J.G., 306 Rochford, RAF, 55 Rogerson, S. Propaganda in the Next War, 9, 10, 25, 27, 28, 116, 119, 134, 251 Rolls Royce Merlin engine, 46, 186, 210, 211, 232, pl. 2 Romania, 247 Roosevelt, Franklin, D., 236, 240, 241, 243 ‘Ross, J.H.’ (Lawrence of Arabia), 44 Rothenstein, William, 221, 315, pl. 24 Men of the RAF, 217 Rothermere, Esmond, 136

Royal Academy, 222 Royal Air Force, see RAF Royal Air Force Squadrons, see RAF fighter squadrons Royal Canadian Air Force, 412 Squadron, 296 Royal Dutch Air Force, 88 Royal Flying Corps, 13, 16, 36, 215, 217, 305 Royal National Lifeboat Institution, 68 Royal Naval Air Service, 13, 16, 36 Royal Navy, 10, 68, 75, 89, 163, 177, 182, 185, 208, 215, 228, 311 deterrent to invasion, 2, 51–2 limited propaganda coverage during Battle, 17, 18 revisionist assessments of, 2–3 vulnerability to air attack, 3 see also Admiralty, The Royde-Smith, Naomi, Outside Information, 83, 228, 229, 247 Russia, 9, 89, 241 St Clement Danes, RAF church, 313 St Eval, RAF, 40 St George Saunders, Hilary, 17, 51, 225, 280, 281, 283, 285, 294, 295, 313 Per Ardua, 37 see also Battle of Britain, The (1941, AM pamphlet); Bomber Command, Bomber Command Sackville-West, Vita, Country Notes in Wartime, 225, 227, 228 St Paul’s Cathedral, 191, 238 Salisbury, Lord, 136 ‘Saucepans into Spitfires’, 203, 230–1 saving certificates, 81 Schneider Trophy, 262 schwarm, The, 42, 49 Scotland, 32, 58, 86, 97, 230 Sea Lion, see Operation Sea Lion Secretary of State for Air, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 73, 110, 141, 147, 225, 284 see also Hoare, Samuel; Sinclair, Archibald; Wood, Kingsley Sector Stations, see Groups (10, 11, 12, 13), RAF Seel¨owe, see Operation Sea Lion Senate House, London, 32 Shakespeare Cliff, Dover, 123, 237, 301 Shakespeare, William, Henry V, 7, 78–80 Shanks, Edward, 304

Index 355

Sheean, Vincent (US), Between the Thunder and the Sun, 7, 23, 53, 81, 111, 224, 237, 240, 241, 257, 302 Shepard, E.H., 199 Shirer, William (US), Berlin Diary, 110, 246, 257, 302 Shore, Dinah, 236 ‘short’ MOI films, see Ministry of Information ‘short’ films Short Sunderland aircraft, 178 Signal, 89 Sikorski, General, 88, 89 Sillince, W.A., 199 Sinclair, Archibald, 14, 16, 55, 73, 84, 85, 111, 112, 113, 133, 225, 291 see also Secretary of State for Air Sissinghurst, 28 Smith, W.H., retailer, 32 Somaliland, 121 Sorley, Ralph, 47 sound mirrors, 43 South Africa, 58, 88, 221 South America, 221 Southampton, 146, 238 Soviet Union, The, 63, 89, 251, 311 Spaight, James Air Power in the Next War, 37 Battle of Britain 1940, The, 50, 52, 59, 64, 78, 299-300 Sky’s the Limit, The, 224 Spain, 48, 247, 303, 311 Spanish Armada, The, 7, 228, 256 Spanish Civil War, 48 Special Operations Executive, 10 Spectator, The, 151, 152, 279 Spender, Stephen, 26, 152, 304, 312 Sperrle, Hugo, 49, 52 Sphere, The, 52 Spitfire aircraft, see Supermarine aircraft Spitfire Fund, 47, 190, 199, 214, 230–5, 307, pl. 20 negative cartoons about, 204 Spitfire Fund and Empire propaganda stamps, 232 Spitfire (marketing publication), 210 Spitfires over Britain, (BBC broadcast), 41, 118–19, 120, 190 squadron organisation and operation, RAF age of fighter-leaders, 46 aircraft numbers, 47–8 fighting area attacks, 42 finger four, 42–3

flight, 42–3 pilot numbers, 46, 55 readiness and stand by states, 41–2 resting and rotation, 55 ‘scramble’, 41–2 section, 42–3 standing patrols, 41, 57 ‘Tally Ho!’, 41 ‘vic’, 42 see also pilots, RAF fighter Squire, John, 298 Stack, Robert, 270 Stanhope Sprigg, T., Royal Air force, The, 45, 46, 305 Stansgate, Viscount, 16, 18 Star, the, 134 Street, Arthur, 14 Strong, Brigadier-General, 225, 240–1 Sudan, 234 Suffolk, 49 Sunday Chronicle, 138, 308 Sunday Dispatch, 138 Sunday Express, 135, 138, 140, 141, 208 Sunday Graphic, 138 Sunday Pictorial, 138, 139, 140 Sunday Times, The, 138, 139, 291 Sunderland, 234 Supermarine aircraft Spitfire, 4, 7, 15, 17, 21, 38, 39, 41, 44, 45, 46, 47, 50, 56, 57, 59, 60, 64, 66, 67, 69, 81, 90, 118, 119, 120, 123, 124, 125, 128, 129, 130, 132, 133, 141, 142, 148, 149, 150, 156, 158, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 175, 177, 178, 180, 181, 182, 183184, 185, 186, 187, 189, 190, 192, 193, 196, 199, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 209, 210, 211, 213, 214, 222, 225, 229, 230–5, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 281, 283, 289, 290, 291, 292, 295, 296, 301, 302, 304, 305, 306, 307, 316, pl. 20 Walrus, 221, 316 Sussex, 49, 128, 174 Sussex Daily News, 138 Sutherland, Graham, 221 Sweden, 89, 247 Switzerland, 247

356 Index

Tangmere, RAF, 40, 55 Tank Corps, British, 227 10 Group, RAF Fighter Command, 256 area covered, 40 Sector Stations, 40; see also Box, RAF Thames, River and Estuary, 58, 95, 149, 201, 229, 238 Thermopylae, defence of Pass of, 83, 331 13 Group, RAF Fighter Command, 42, 54, 55 area covered, 40 Sector Stations, 40 see also Newcastle-on-Tyne, RAF thirty-year secrecy rule, 308 Thomas, Lowell, 255 Time, 152 Time & Tide, 152 Times, The, 41, 66, 68, 72, 74, 76, 81, 83, 84, 86, 88, 89, 92, 94, 95–6, 100, 105, 112, 135, 136, 137, 139, 140, 143, 145, 147, 148, 149, 150, 159, 179, 190, 221, 225, 229, 231, 234, 238, 239, 240, 241, 243, 244, 245, 247, 248, 298, 299 Timewatch, BBC series, 2 Toc H, 306 Tolleshunt D’Arcy, 228 Tomlin, Christopher, 81, 101, 103, 108, 126, 226–7 Topical, 192 Trades Union Congress, 136 Trafalgar, Battle of, 283, 311 Trafalgar Square, and fourth plinth, 313 Travel Air Mystery, aircraft, 267 Treasury, The, 215, 219–20 ‘Trenchard Memorandum’, 36 Trenchard, Viscount ‘Boom’, 33, 36 Tribune, The, 87, 107 tributes to fighter pilots, 85–90, 110, 111, 112, 249 see also pilots, RAF, appreciation for tributes to RAF ground crews, 70, 130 Tunbridge Wells, 226, 228, 230 Turkey, 89, 249 Turner, C.E., 207 Turnhouse, RAF, 40 12 Group, RAF Fighter Command, 56, 57, 144 area covered, 40 Sector Stations, 40; see also ‘Big Wings’; Leigh-Mallory, Trafford; ‘The Few’, Bader, Douglas; Watnall, RAF Twentieth Century Fox, 267, 268

Uganda, 234 Ultra, Bletchley Park, 43, 57, 113 United States of America (and aspects of), 10, 44, 51, 53, 63, 152, 155, 159, 174, 175–6, 177, 178, 179, 202, 225, 227, 228, 236–43, 245, 246, 248, 251, 255, 259, 263, 264, 265, 266–75, 296, 306, 309 aid for Britain, 46, 75, 151, 241, 243 aircraft claims doubts, and dispute, 109-112, 236, 237, 238, 240, 239, 245, 283 British propaganda effort, 11, 12, 35, 74, 81, 82, 84, 85, 93, 94, 109, 127, 131, 158, 173, 180, 186, 192, 236-42, 268, 285, 292, 305, 311 contribution to Battle, 46, 86, 128, 129, 140, 155, 178, 205, 238, 242, 290 destroyer deal, 75, 237, 243, 311 neutrality, 236, 237, 238, 239-40 US war and foreign Correspondents, 22, 23, 29, 91, 110-11, 123, 192, 237, 301, 302, 303: books by, Berlin Diary (see Shirer, W.); Between the Thunder and the Sun (see Sheean, V.); Britain Can Take It (see Reynolds, Q.); I saw England (see Robertson, B.); Looking for Trouble (see Cowles, V.); Report on England (see Ingersoll, R.); Their Finest Hour (see Michie, A. & W. Graebner); This is London (see Murrow, E.) see also RAF fighter Squadrons, 71 ‘Eagle’ Squadron; tributes to fighter pilots; headings beginning ‘US’; named reporters (‘US’); Roosevelt, Franklin, D. Universal, 176 Universal film, 269 University Air Squadrons, RAF, 46 see also Cambridge University Air Squadron; Oxford University Air Squadron US Air Force, 264–5 US Army Air Corps, 238 US Neutrality Act, 59, 236, 238, 239–40, 243 US press corps, 237, 241 US Signal Corps Special Services Film Unit, 273 Usworth, RAF, 40 Uxbridge, RAF, 16, 40, 42, 74, 80, 83

Index 357

Vichy France, 248, 249 Vickers aircraft Wellesley, 253; Wellington, 172, 208, 253, 255; see also Supermarine Victoria Cross, 68, 71, 129, 138, 143, 145–7, 223 see also ‘The Few’, Nicolson, John ‘Nick’ Victoria Station, 127, 172, 207 visual propaganda, see advertisements; cartoons; photography; posters; war art Vogue, 218 Walbrook, Anton, 258 Wales, 32, 58, 97, 101, 102, 103, 133, 226 Walker, Ronald, Flight to Victory, 52, 77, 105, 298 Wallington, 264 Walton, William, 261, 263–4 war art, 12, 214–22 appendix, 315–16 nature of, 214–15 portraiture, 215–17 WAAC, 16, 17, 215, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222 WAAC artists, 215–21 War Artists’ Advisory Committee, see War art war artists, books by, and about, Drawing the RAF (see Kennington, E.); How to Draw Planes (see Wootton, F.); Men of the RAF (see Rothenstein, W.); Paul Nash (see Read, H.); Pilots of Fighter Command (see Orde, C.) War Pictures by British Artists, 220, 221, 315–16; see also Bates, H.E War Directives, see Hitler, Adolf; Chronology Wardour Street, 29 war and foreign correspondents, 7, 89, 93, 123–5, 127, 137, 141, 157, 237, 245, 246, 297–303 see also United States of America (and aspects of) War Illustrated, The, 82, 105, 110, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 190, 191, 193, 194, 195, 228, 243 Warmwell, RAF, 55 Warner Brothers, 266–7 Warner, Rex, Aerodrome, The, 279 War Office, The, 10, 19, 23 Warsaw, 158

Wartime Social Survey, 14, 32, 82 War, The (and War Pictorial), 207 Washington, 241, 296 Waterloo, Battle of, 311 Watnall, RAF, 40 Watt, Harry, 180, 182, 185, 186, 257, 269, 270 weather conditions, 41, 54, 58, 67, 83, 249 Wedgwood Benn, Anthony, 16 Wehrmacht, 2, 49, 51, 52, 60 Wellingore, RAF, 42 Westerman, Percy, Fighting for Freedom, 306 West Indies, 111, 221 Westland Lysander aircraft, 68 West Malling, RAF, 55 Weston-super-Mare, 82 West, Rebecca, Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, 26, 34, 39 Weymouth, 229 Why We Fight films, 273 Wick, Helmut, 316 Wick, RAF, 40 Wilde, Oscar, 296 Williams, W.T.S. RAF in Action, The, 78, 189, 194, 213, 267, 299, 305 Willoughby de Broke, John, 16 Wilson Harris, H., 151 Wiltshire, 238 Winchester, 247 Wings for Victory exhibitions, 17, 316 wireless, 93, 96, 152, 235, 237, 239, 246, 247, 248, 293, 302 European audiences, 88, 133, 244–6, 247–9 German wireless audiences, 244–5, 311 international audiences, 81, 133, 153, 246–7, 249 Italian wireless audiences, 246 licences and numbers of sets, 119, 244, 246 Nazi censorship, 244–5 propaganda opportunities, 12, 64, 73, 74–5, 80, 82, 83–4, 85, 93, 96, 116–17, 140, 212, 246–9, 278 short-, medium- and long-wave frequencies, 116, 247 see also British Broadcasting Corporation; Deutschlandsender; Joyce, William; United States of America (and aspects of)

358 Index

Wittering, RAF, 40 Woman, 152 Woman’s Own, 152 Women’s Auxiliary Air Force, 207, 213, 306 Wood, Kingsley, 14, 141 Woon, Basil, Hell Came to London, 91, 301 Wootton, Frank, How to Draw Planes, 222, 316 World’s Fair, New York, 196 Worthing, 227–8

Wright, Teresa, 271 Yorkshire, 132 Yorkshire Evening Post, 138 Y-Service, 43 Yugoslavia, 247 ‘Zec’, 135 Zek, Phillip, 198 Zeppelin, airships, 36 Ziff, W.B., Coming Battle of Germany, The, 307