by Ted Stewart
You ask, what is our policy? I will say: It is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength God can give us. . . . That is our policy.
You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.9
As his own words make clear, Churchill understood that victory was essential for survival. But that didn’t change the fact that the war on the Continent was going very poorly. Five short weeks after this speech was given, the French sued for peace.
Great Britain was now the only viable force on earth fighting the Nazis of Germany and the Fascists of Italy.
The day after the French surrendered, Churchill again addressed his nation. He vowed that England would continue the battle, even though they were now alone:
Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilization. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. . . .
Hitler knows that he will have to break us on this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands.
But, if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age. . . .
Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, Men will still say: “This was their finest hour.”10
The Royal Air Force
At most crucial moments in world history, certain men or women have stepped forward or been called upon to alter the course of history. Certainly, Winston Churchill was one of those men.
But the story of the Battle of Britain11 is not about a single man. Though he was crucial to the survival of his nation, Winston Churchill would be the first to admit that the Battle of Britain was not about him, but rather about all the men and women of Fighter Command of the Royal Air Force (RAF). And fortunately, despite incessant calls during the 1930s for complete disarmament in the face of Germany’s reemergence as a military power, the British military had not been totally dismantled. However, its air force had momentarily bought into a military theory that was decidedly flawed, a dangerous theory that had the potential, by itself, to cause the English to lose the entire war.
The essence of this dangerous military theory was this: Fighter aircraft were no longer a necessity.
In 1932, British Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin embraced the conventional view of military theorists of the time that fighter aircraft could never succeed in stopping big bombers. The theory was best expressed in the phrase, “the bomber will always get through.” Because of this, it was believed that the only reliable defense was in having a sufficiently large bomber force so as to deter any enemy from attacking you. As Baldwin warned the House of Commons, “‘The only defense is in offense which means that you have to kill more women and children more quickly than the enemy if you want to save yourselves.’”12
It was a horrible theory upon which to plan a war.13 Nevertheless, it was the guiding principle the British used in their (meager, most would argue) preparations to defend themselves.
Accordingly, the bulk of spending on aircraft during this era was on offensive weapons systems—that is, bombers—it being widely believed that money spent on fighter aircraft was money wasted.
There was, however, one man who did not buy into the notion that fighter aircraft were without value. That man was Sir Hugh Dowding, the man who became Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief of RAF Fighter Command when it was created in 1936.
• • •
Following the German army’s lightning-fast conquest of France in 1940, the question became not if but when the invasion of Great Britain would occur.
At least one German general argued that the Germans had already missed their best opportunity, believing the invasion should have taken place in late May, while 250,000 British soldiers had languished helplessly on the beaches at Dunkirk.14
Initially, Hitler hesitated to wage war on Great Britain, for he had been led to believe by his visits with former Prime Minister Lloyd George, as well as other British appeasers, that the English wanted peace above all else. His own foreign minister, a man who had once been the ambassador to England and had mingled with the elite of English society, reinforced this view.
Hitler’s hope that he could reach a compromise with England was further encouraged in late May when an unofficial inquiry was made by Lord Halifax, the British foreign secretary in Churchill’s cabinet. Halifax asked if Mussolini would act as an emissary to find out what peace terms Hitler would be willing to offer the English. This personal initiative by Halifax was not made known to Churchill until May 26. To say the least, the prime minister was not pleased! But Hitler was, and he took the inquiry seriously. Shortly afterward, he gave a speech in which he outlined his plan that if Great Britain would simply agree to let him maintain control of Europe, it would be left alone.
Was Hitler’s overture tempting? If Lord Halifax had become prime minister and sought a peace agreement with Hitler, would his nation have supported him? There is evidence that a large segment of Great Britain would have endorsed such a move.
But Churchill refused to entertain such a dangerous and self-defeating notion. He made it clear that as long as he was prime minister, England would not surrender.
Still, Hitler was not convinced. He continued to believe that if he were able to make the British suffer enough, or fear enough, a prime minister more reasonable than Churchill would replace him. Peace, under Hitler’s terms, could then be negotiated. Many of his subsequent decisions were apparently based on this belief. In fact, Hitler was so convinced that the English would sue for peace that he continued sending out peace feelers even as the Battle of Britain was being waged.15
Invasion Day Set
Notwithstanding Hitler’s continued hope for Great Britain’s capitulation, on July 16, he issued Directive No. 16, calling for a landing operation against England.
In part, Directive No. 16 read:
As England, despite her hopeless situation, still shows no sign of willingness to come to terms, I have decided to prepare and if necessary to carry out a landing operation against her. The aim of this operation is to eliminate the English motherland as a base from which war against Germany can be continued, and, if this should become unavoidable, to occupy it to the full extent.16
It was time, Hitler had decided, to take the battle to the British homeland. August 15, 1940, was set as the invasion date.
But his plans for invasion were contingent on two critical, independent considerations. First, in order to allow for difficult landings and the unloading of heavy armaments, the invasion had to occur before the days turned short and weather in the English Channel turned bad—something that usually happened by late September or early October. The second condition was of even greater import: The German air force had to secure air superiority over the RAF.
Specifically, Directive No. 16 indicated that, prior to the land invasion: “The English air force must have been beaten down to such an extent morally and in actual fact that it can no longer muster an[y] power of attack worth mentioning against the German crossing.”17
German leadership was adamant in this resolve. The invasion could not happen until the Luftwaffe, under its leader, Hermann Göring, had decimated the RAF to the point that it would no longer be able to interfere with the massing of the invasion force, the crossing of the English Channel, or the establishment of a beachhead in England.18
Göring assured the other members of the German High Command that his Luftwaffe would make certain the RAF posed no threat to the pending invasion. With this assurance, and Hitler’s
Directive No. 16 in hand, “Operation Sea Lion” got under way.
The German navy began to assemble a vast armada from every available source in Germany as well as the recently occupied countries. They practiced moving tanks, guns, horses, and men on and off the landing craft. The Luftwaffe began to move nearly three thousand planes forward to the recently secured airfields in France. This was critical, for not only did it shorten the flying time to their targets but it also allowed Messerschmitts to protect the bombers, something these small fighters did not carry enough fuel to do if they had been forced to operate from bases in Germany. Finally, in preparation for taking command of the British military and civilian government, the Gestapo created a list of 2,820 Englishmen who were to be quickly arrested upon the operation’s successful conclusion.19
With typical German precision, the pieces for the invasion began to fall into place. Göring was then given the green light to destroy the RAF.
Radar, Spitfires, and Hurricanes
Despite a decade of appeasement and talk of disarmament among the political classes, Great Britain had not left itself entirely at the mercy of Hitler’s good intentions. The groundwork for a viable defense of its island home had been laid. Among the most fortunate decisions that had been made was the appointment of Sir Hugh Dowding to Fighter Command.
During the previous four years, Dowding had performed a miraculous transformation of the defensive capability of Great Britain by:
• Bringing two new fighter aircraft into service
• Incorporating a new technology known as “radar”
• Creating a means of central aircraft control
• Devising an overall strategy bent on bleeding the German Luftwaffe dry
In each of these efforts, he was met with harsh criticism and opposition. But this man, described as stubborn, humorless, impatient, and completely devoted to his mission, stared his opponents down in every substantial confrontation that took place.
When he took command in 1936, Fighter Command consisted of nothing but a bunch of small biplanes with open cockpits, two guns, and fixed landing wheels—aircraft not much different from those that had been used in World War I.
Despite the prevailing view (held by every major military power in the world) that “the bomber would always get through,” Dowding said, “maybe not so.” He demanded and obtained the manufacture of two new single-engine fighters whose names would become immortal—the Spitfire and the Hurricane. He insisted that these aircraft be equipped with high-frequency radios so that the pilots could communicate with each other and with their ground controllers, that they have eight guns and a transparent sliding cockpit canopy. He also demanded that the canopy have bulletproof glass to protect the pilots. “I can’t understand why Chicago gangsters can have bulletproof glass in their cars and I can’t get it in my Spitfires,” he reportedly said.20
Dowding had previously been assigned to a position in research and development, where he had encouraged experiments in, and then became an early advocate of, the new technology known as radar. As head of Fighter Command, he ordered construction of a line of radar stations along the coast of southern England. The radar masts were two to three hundred feet high, and though the stations were unable to determine the altitude of incoming aircraft or to discern between friendly and enemy airplanes, they proved to be absolutely critical to the upcoming battle. More than 1,400 “observer posts” supplemented these modern contrivances: men and women scattered along the coastline to watch for the approaching enemy the old-fashioned way—with their eyes.
Dowding came to understand that the numbers of his aircraft and the experience of his pilots would always be severely limited. He also understood that his pilots would be facing an overwhelming number of bombers and fighter escorts. Knowing this, he concluded that they couldn’t waste time on preemptive patrols or random attacks. Everything had to be controlled and coordinated. It had to be precise. In order to maximize use of his resources, he demanded—again, against great opposition—that all of his fighters be controlled from a central location.
He constructed a large amphitheater in his headquarters. In the middle, he placed a map of southern England, the English Channel, and the northern coast of Europe. Around this map, a dozen or so young airmen and airwomen worked. After receiving reports from their radar and observation posts, these young people (first called “filterers,” then the “beauty chorus”) would move representations of enemy aircraft as they formed up and flew across the channel.
Dowding’s “beauty chorus” had the task of not only monitoring German formations but organizing the fighter squadrons to repel them. The incoming bombers flew at two to three hundred miles per hour, a speed that allowed them to get from mainland Europe to their English targets in only twenty minutes or so. To accomplish a successful intercept, the beauty chorus had to direct the British fighter aircraft to arrive not just at the right place but also at the right time, for precious fuel in the small fighters could not be wasted.
According to Dowding’s plan, only small numbers of RAF fighters would attack the oncoming bomber groups. But they would be relentless! As soon as one group of pilots ran low on fuel and ammunition, the next group would be waiting to attack, over and over; the Luftwaffe would receive no mercy or reprieve.
Dowding’s overall strategy could best be summed up as a war of attrition. He did not have to win the air battle; he just had to avoid defeat.
Though they would always be outnumbered, enough British pilots had to be kept flying to repel the main German invasion force when Hitler committed to the attack. Better yet, if he was really lucky—or good—Dowding wanted to forestall the invasion until the autumn weather and short days made things too dangerous for it to take place.
To this end, he could never let the Luftwaffe know just how many airplanes he had. He would never attack in large numbers, only constant, small-unit “pinpricks.” This would lead the Germans to believe that the RAF was far outnumbered and always near the end of its airplanes. And that, in turn, would lead them to keep coming and coming, losing aircraft (mostly the far more expensive bombers and their four-man crews) at a moderate but steady rate, allowing him to bleed the Germans slowly.
By tightly controlling his fighter squadrons, Dowding made the best use of them. But his strategy also appeared to reinforce the conventional theory that “the bombers will always get through.” His strategy left the British people even more vulnerable to bombing attacks, a fact for which he was severely condemned. In the end, however, his war of delay and attrition was the only hand he had.21
Higgins Blue Flight Over Southeastern London
Another day. Another two or three combat sorties. Another frenzy of deadly dogfights. Another dozen of his fellow pilots shot down.
Manson, having survived the Battle of Britain for almost six weeks, was one of the old heads now. He had gone from being called Snap to Lieutenant to the Old Man.
Eighteen years old, and they called him old. Which was kind of funny, because that was exactly how he felt.
The pilot watched his formation leader lift into the air, his commander’s wheels tucking tightly into the underside of the wings, the second aircraft right beside him. Manson quickly released his brakes and pushed his throttle forward. The aircraft hesitated half a second before the engine spun up, then almost lurched, pushing him back in his seat. Less than ten minutes later, he was cruising at twenty thousand feet.
Another cluster of German bombers and fighters were flying toward them. The radio controller had told them there were eighty enemy aircraft in the formation, but who really knew?
After realizing that keeping their fighters in a tight V formation was a recipe for death, the RAF had loosened up their tactics, allowing a wingman to fly behind and above the main formation in order to keep an eye out to both sides and below. And that was where Manson was now. The air in his mask w
as cold and dry. His stomach and bowels felt bloated, an overfilled balloon. The Spitfire wasn’t pressurized, which made it painful to stay in the cockpit for very long. By nightfall, after his third exhausting sortie, he would be so sore and tired that he would have trouble even holding up his head. But right now, he felt pretty good. In fact, his heart was racing. He was in a fighting mood. Among the many targets the Germans were coming after, one was surely his home base, and the thought of protecting his own turf added a little emotion to the fight.
The formation circled over London as a female voice gave them a vector to line up on the approaching German bombers. Four miles below, Battersea Park slipped beneath his wing. The water of the tree-lined lake was dark, sitting peacefully among the low buildings and townhomes of the city. He noticed a few sailboats on the water—life went on in London, though surely the boaters must have realized that men were dying in the air above them. He glanced at his formation leader, then back at the lake again. As a child, he used to go fishing with his father at the park. The protective instinct kicked in once again.
Banking gently to the right, the formation leader brought his group of fighters around. That was when Manson saw them. They looked like a cloud of glass, so many glinting windscreens, aluminum wing tops, and spinning propellers reflecting in the sun. There must have been, what . . . thirty Heinkel He 111 bombers, surrounded by a swarm of Messerschmitt fighters, all of them tucked together and heading straight toward him.
His heart skipped a beat, his hands clenching around his stick and throttle. Without thinking, he lowered his seat, partly for protection, partly to line up with his fixed gun sight. Blue One, the flight leader, turned the formation to put them in a position to attack the bombers from the side—called the beam—as well as making it so they could drop onto the Germans from out of the sun. As they closed in, Manson’s thumb moved across the button on his stick, switching his guns from safe to fire.
He dropped out of the sky for the attack, the powerful engine on his Spitfire screaming.
