It is almost a year since war was declared
and Hornet is a very different squadron since we were pushed out of France.
With the loss of almost all our Spitfires,
and sadly some of the best pilots,
we have regrouped on the South Coast, less than 1 5 minutes' flying from the Germans.
When I look at our weary pilots,
the new replacements seem like boys.
But our Czech and Polish volunteers have brought some experience
and they are very keen on the war.
Pilot Officer Gordon is still in shock from losing his wife.
Normally, he'd be grounded, but these days we need every pilot, however mad they may seem.
Still our losses are mounting, and his Flight Commander, Flip Moran, was lost in flames.
Our Intelligence Officer has challenged the pilots' combat reports.
I suppose that the new gun cameras will prove his point one way or the other.
The Luftwaffe are putting more fighters and bombers up every day to hit London
and we're engaged in combat almost constantly.
We're taking a hammering,
and frankly, I don't know how long we can carry on.
(Siren in distance)
Morning, Padre. Are they keeping you busy?
I'm afraid so. I've got three at Kingsmere. It's getting a bit like a conveyor belt.
The pilots are on standby so there's no funeral party.
I'm afraid you'll have to keep him here for a while. No transport, as you can imagine.
Well, let's get cracking.
- You must be...? - I'm Mr Burnett, Maurice's uncle.
- Maurice? - Flight Lieutenant Moran.
Oh, yes, of course, Maurice. Half the time I forget my own name.
Yes, yes, Maurice, of course.
He was such a lovely boy, Maurice.
I'd like you to know he made a splendid contribution to the squadron.
BURNETT: "I'm sure he did." "- Brave and popular."
There's a bit of a flap.
I'm sure Maurice would understand that the fight goes on.
(Spitfires fly overhead)
That's probably the flight that your nephew commanded.
Life goes on.
I hope they'll be killing lots of Germans.
As you say, Mr Burnett...
..life goes on.
Maurice would always spend a couple of days with us in London when he was on leave,
before he went on to visit his mother.
Can we just see a last glimpse of him before the service?
Yes, it'd be a great comfort to his mother.
I'm afraid it's too late for that now. I am sorry.
Just a couple of minutes.
Well, you see...it's just been sealed.
-They've screwed the lid on? - Yes, they have.
-There'd be no disrespect if we... - No, I'm afraid it's not on.
Is it something to do with regulations?
Well, it's not that, but...
Could I have a word with you?
The thing is, Mr Burnett, we "can" open the coffin, but I'm afraid your wife will be very upset.
What's wrong with him, then?
There's nothing there. Flight Lieutenant Moran was shot down in flames.
I thought it would be a bullet or something.
- Well, it wasn't. He was burnt to death. - I'd still like to see...
Don't you understand what I'm saying? There's nothing - ashes, cinders.
There's nothing that you would recognise.
I don't think his mother would want to know about that.
Thank you, sir. And I think you're right.
His mother wouldn't want to hear.
I think it should be shut away.
Just as well you told me.
I suppose you're accustomed to this kind of thing, sir?
No, not really.
We're just civilians.
We don't understand these things.
Let's get on with the job, eh?
Thank you.
MOGGY: "Heinkels and 1 09s."
On your toes, chaps.
"Going in now!"
(Machine-gun fire)
(Gunfire)
MOGGY: "Get out, Fitz! Get out!"
"Jump, Fitz!"
"Fitz, bail out!"
(Engine sputters)
Have you got a problem, Yellow Leader?
Bloody engine's died.
"I'll have to write a letter to Rolls Royce."
Keep my lunch in the oven, Amanda. And send a car to pick me up.
(Engine sputtering)
Have you got my laundry?
That can wait. Enter.
- You're for it. - What have I done?
Oh, Moggy, didn't you know the town of Sashton was ahead of you?
Know it well.
"Not Winchester Avenue, I hope?"
What happens there?
There's where your aircraft landed.
Really? I was hoping for an orphanage or an old people's home.
Almost, Moggy.
Two houses, killing four people, including an infant.
A disaster.
For whom?
I'm still here.
I jumped out at about 1 ,000ft.
Lower than that and I'd be in trouble.
It didn't occur to you to sit tight and try to miss the houses?
No.
"Oh."
I think you're trying to say something.
"''Anyone with an ounce of gallantry" "would've stayed at the controls"
"and tried to miss the innocent civilians.''"
- Is that what you're saying? - Something like that.
- Obviously, I'm not a pilot. - No, you're not.
And I haven't got an ounce of gallantry.
And I don't intend to get myself killed to save three and a half oiks.
"It's their war as well, you know."
They're always saying this is a ''people's war''.
Well, now they know what it's like.
That's a rather callous attitude.
- Is it? Why give civilians a special status? - Because they're non-combatants.
They used to say ''women and children first''.
Did they? But they can't fly Spitfires, can they?
Incidentally, did you get my Heinkel and the 1 09?
Well done.
Steele-Stebbing told me and they're confirmed.
You know about Fitzgerald?
Yeah.
Air Commodore Bletchley is waiting to see you.
I told you, the fellow's suffering from shock.
Semi-paralysed.
I trust you were wounded?
- Not me, sir. - Yes, you were, Moggy.
The Air Commodore knows more about baling out than you do.
That's right, Cattermole.
You were wounded. Your controls were shot up and you were semi-paralysed.
"RAF pilots do not bale out in built-up areas."
"And if they do," "they don't talk about it in pubs or in letters home."
We're gonna have calls from councillors, the clergy, ratepayers,
and probably the News Chronicle.
- Just tell your chaps to forget it ever happened. -Yes, sir.
That includes you, Cattermole.
"Shock does funny things to a man."
I think you'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow.
All about what, sir?
That's the idea.
The exercise is biffing the Boche, not clouting civilians.
Incidentally, did you hear yesterday's score? Jerry lost 49 to our 1 6.
That's the kind of news I want to hear.
I suppose this couldn't have come at a worse time for you.
Well, he's only missing.
Well, that's true, but...
I'm afraid that all the indications are that he's gone for good, Mary.
I don't mean for good...
How can you say that? You haven't found him!
Well, that's true.
There's hope, isn't there?
I mean, he always turns up.
"You know what Fitz is like."
What about the time when he pranged his kite?
Where was it? Somewhere near Canterbury?
- Miracles sometimes happen. "- Of course they do."
And when he baled out a couple of weeks ago...
I'm so silly.
I was going to make you some tea, but I haven't got any.
Fitz was going to scrounge some from the cookhouse.
I'm sure I've got some Ovaltine.
No, really.
Mary...
Mary, come on.
I really don't want any Ovaltine.
And apart from anything else,
he's so careful these days.
Not at all like the old Fitz.
It's because of parenthood, I suppose.
"When I first met him,"
he was so merry and bright.
Just being a fighter pilot was like being in the First XV.
But now he's much more responsible.
Yes, I know, Mary.
I suppose I should be crying.
But I can't. I mean, he'll turn up. He always has.
Well...
..perhaps.
As long as he's missing, he could turn up at any moment.
I bet you he does.
Mary, I think you have to accept...
I bet you!
I know my Fitz.
(Door slams)
(Chattering)
(Laughter)
Brooke, get the lights.
(Men carry on chatting)
Are you two engaged?
(Clears throat)
Right, quieten down, please!
Are you gonna play the organ as well, Skull?
Gentlemen, gentlemen, you may be amused when you see this little film.
By the end, you may be rolling in the aisles.
I'm not going to identify each of you.
"No doubt you'll recognise" "your own combat reports."
These clips of film are quite short, and I trust they will be illuminating.
"Lights, please, Flash."
"- Roll it, Benson." "- Yes, sir."
This particular pilot reported that he closed to a range of 200 yards
and fired a two-second burst which hit a Heinkel in the starboard wing.
Could we hold it there, Benson?
Knowing the Heinkel's wingspan, we can calculate the exact range.
The range was 480 yards.
"None of the shots hit the bomber."
But you can see the smoke coming out the back of the engine.
SKULL: "A blow-up of the film establishes" "that the Spitfire fired well below the target."
The damage was from another Spitfire
which made a simultaneous attack from high on the port beam.
That'll be me.
You can just see the aircraft in the corner of the picture.
Thank you.
The next film was taken by that particular Spitfire.
The report says: ''My second attack was from high on the port beam.
"I put in a two-second burst at about 1 50 yards"
and saw smoke pour out of the starboard engine.
Could we run it, please?
A good shot. That you, Moggy?
-That's probably me as well, yes. - (Laughter)
The report was correct, as you saw.
And this next film shows a rather confused piece of action
"that took place during a large dogfight."
The pilot reported that he fired at three ME-1 09s in quick succession,
"missing the first two and destroying the third."
Oh, shit!
Quite.
We'll have to run that again.
"In fact, the first alleged 1 09 is a Spitfire."
"And the second alleged 1 09 is also a Spitfire."
I think you have the idea there, gentlemen.
Shall I turn the lights on, sir?
Please.
Well, plenty of violence, but no sex.
Any chance of a Mickey Mouse next?
We don't need any more laughs, Moggy.
(Knock on door)
Yellow Section, scramble!
"Folkestone area. Angels one-three!"
- 1 5-minute standby, sir. "-Thank you."
All right. We'll discuss this later on. That's all.
Thank you, Benson.
Uncle, Chris, wait, please.
Skull...
Are you as depressed as me? Are we that bad?
Well, I have said that our claims are wildly exaggerated.
- We're no worse than any other squadron. - Did you see that film?
I reckon we've got about three good pilots, two or three not bad,
and the rest, they couldn't hit the floor if they fell out of bed!
(Slow dance music on gramophone)
Mog!
"Zaddy?"
If anybody's interested, we just lost the best shot in the squadron.
"Hey!"
I'm talking to you new boys.
Couple of hints for you, OK?
The important thing is that you've got to keep looking behind you, watch your tail.
Otherwise, tiddlywinks, the nasty bogeyman will shove a cannon shell up your bum!
"Go play in the sandpit, Flash."
You always watch the sun.
Nine times out of ten, Jerry's up there, so you never climb away from the sun.
And never, never dive into 400 Messerschmitts, particularly if you're out of ammo.
- Just ignore him, he's nuts. - Not true.
I'm the only sane man in the squadron. The MO tested me, not anybody else.
Shut up, Flash!
As a veteran of combat, can I tell you something?
Getting up and down's OK. It's the bit in between that's tricky.
- Go see your doctor again, Flash! - Shan't!
(Music gets louder)
Somebody turn off the gramophone!
That's my favourite song.
Chris.
I want to talk to you.
You're trying too hard, Chris.
Every time you talk to the new boys, it becomes a lecture.
- They've gotta learn. -They haven't got time.
- And you're intimidating them. - I'm responsible for half of them.
And I'm responsible for the whole bloody squadron.
- Are you getting twitchy? - Me? Did you see that...?
All right.
Take a day off.
- How are you gonna run your war without me? "- We'll get by."
Talk about twitchy!
Not me, mate.
So everybody's wrong except you, huh?
No, not everybody, just you.
"You seem to think you can solve everything" "by planning and briefings and bloody lectures."
Work it all out scientifically so that nothing is left to chance.
Typical Yank attitude.
You'd like to organise this war, wouldn't you? Do it by the book.
Well, the problem is, mate, the enemy doesn't read the same book.
In the immortal words of our late Polish colleague, ''ees cockup''.
Every war's a cockup.
"And I don't need you to keep telling me that."
Take a day off.
Who's going to lead A Flight?
Flash.
He's nuts.
Does that matter?
I like Flash. He doesn't think too much, he just gets into them.
And he never, never complains.
"His brains are in his gut."
"You're grounded for 24 hours."
- That's all. - You're the boss.
Flash.
Me?
Is there anybody else called Flash?
I is a-comin', bwana.
Afternoon, Morgan!
Not a spy?
Oh, dear.
UNCLE: "She's been there since 8:30." "SKULL: Poor girl."
What about the poor chaps? If she goes on like this, they'll get upset.
She probably didn't think about that.
"She doesn't even move."
"Why can't people bury their dead" "and get on with life?"
- Slip of a girl. - What?
She was a widow when she married Fitz.
You're not suggesting she's a professional widow?
At least she's got some experience, hasn't she?
I mean, if ladies marry fighter pilots, they know the chances, surely?
This is Popcorn Red Leader. Our angels are 1 0.
"That's to confuse the enemy. Doesn't matter." "They've seen us, we've seen them."
"Straight ahead" "and there's dozens of the bastards."
It's a head-on attack. Does everyone read me?
"Red Two to Red Leader, head-on attack."
It's what I call the suicide run.
My God, but they scatter!
"OK, when I say ''bingo''," "everybody bloody well fires, all right?"
(Gunfire) - Bingo!
My God, I got a double top!
(Gunfire)
Argh! Damn!
"Are you receiving me, Popcorn Red Leader?"
This is Teacake.
"What is your position?"
FLASH: "What do you think it is?" "Bloody uncomfortable!"
(Gunfire) - Bloody hell!
"Missed me, you bastard!"
I say, Teacake, this is Popcorn Red Leader.
I'm not feeling very well.
"Can't return to base."
"Oh, it's all right, I can see the A20."
Maybe I can get some petrol there.
"This is Teacake. Insist return to base."
Well, balls to that, Teacake.
"Repeat, Popcorn Red Leader." "You must return to base."
FLASH: "Bullshit!"
Any idea how much these kites cost?
"It's taxpayers' money, you know."
Here I come, Teacake. Ready or not!
(Fire engine bell)
What the bloody hell do you think you've been playing at?
It's old Teacake. Pleased to meet you.
Are you drunk? What's wrong with you?
Just a sec.
I knew something was wrong with me.
- It's on the house. - Thank you.
Haddy. Hey, are you OK?
Having fun?
Hey, Yank.
Drink?
That's a big glass you got there.
Er, whoa, that's...
For Zaddy.
Good man.
I'll second that.
(Sobs)
I'm sorry.
I cry like baby.
I wish to Christ I could do that.
Half a bitter, please.
I'm Spencer. I'm new.
Well, I'll have a pint of bitter and a tincture of Scottish wine as well.
- Oh? - It's traditional.
Really?
You know, you remind me of an old friend.
Well, he wasn't really a friend.
Pip, don't you think he looks like Dicky Starr
or Flying Officer Stickwell?
"I see what you mean."
-There's a certain resemblance. - Dead ringer for both of them.
Well, I don't know about ringer but they're certainly dead.
Mind you, you can't keep up with the names these days.
We're very proud of our casualty list.
Probably the best record in Fighter Command.
- Done a lot of combat, Spencer? - Not really.
None.
None?
Did you know Fitzgerald?
- No. - Pity.
Too late now.
Or the Flying Pole?
Or Flip Moran?
Mother Cox.
Old Miller.
And that other chap...
McFarlane.
- Renouf. - You're having me on.
In fact, the chap you're replacing owes me a fiver. What are you gonna do about that?
Don't believe a word of it, Spencer. Can you just turn that radio off for a second?
Right.
Everybody awake? I've got some good news for you.
The whole thing's a mistake.
Please, Moggy.
The Prime Minister,
Mr Winston Churchill himself,
just made a speech about you.
Yes, you chaps.
"In the House of Commons, he said,"
"''Undaunted by odds,"
unwearied in their...
He doesn't talk like that. No, he's much more...
Let me see that.
(Imitates Churchill) ''Undaunted by odds,
unwearied in their constant challenge...''
Don't be so bloody stupid!
"You're a bloody maniac!"
Don't you want to hear this?
"Apparently, you're heroes."
The Prime Minister believes that you are:
''turning the tide of world war by their...''
That's your...
''..prowess and devotion.''
"And in conclusion, he said,"
''Never in the field of human conflict
was so much owed by so many to so few.''
"That's what he said."
What does he mean, ''owed by so many''?
He'd probably heard about the mess bill.
I don't know about you chaps, but that was a very touching and inspiring tribute.
Does that mean we can go home now?
- Come on, don't take all bloody day! - Sorry.
- Don't upset him. Pip throws tea. -That was years ago.
- You're pretty good at flying under bridges? - Who told you that?
- One of the fitters. - Phooey.
I've got more sense than do that. He's your bridge ace.
In that case, you owe me 1 ,000 francs.
That was donkeys' years ago. We don't do stupid things like that any more, do we?
Why not?
Silly man.
Looks like a bomb's hit it.
Last night, sir. Didn't you hear it?
No, I didn't hear a thing. It must've been the whisky.
Anybody killed?
Don't think so, sir. They got a Spitfire.
The CO's in with Flying Officer Skelton. End of the corridor.
Thanks.
What sort of whisky was it, sir?
Christ knows. But I'm gonna take some more tonight.
- Good day. - Morning.
Well, do you think Rex would approve?
In about ten minutes, it would be full of Sheridan furniture and Persian rugs.
And at least three sporting prints.
All that seems like ten years ago.
I can't even remember the taste of champagne.
Forget it. I just want to sleep for a week.
- Morning. - Morning, Uncle.
The new replacement pilots will be arriving in about 20 minutes.
New bloody names.
And we've only got five Spitfires left.
Ashton... Ashton?
I can't even fix a name to a face.
"- From Blackpool, wasn't he?" "- Well, he won't see Blackpool again."
Christ, no!
"Not Flash?"
I'm afraid so.
A bit of spit on the blackboard, and that's the end of it.
When did he die?
Couple of hours ago.
The medics told me what it was, but I wasn't really listening.
Er...
Post-operational shock, I think they said.
"Three or four bullets."
"One of them went right through his shoulder" "and came out of his bum."
He would have liked that.
He knew an awful lot about anatomy.
He was a card, wasn't he, young Flash?
I bet he thought he'd get away with it.
They say God takes care of drunks and loonies.
Well, he's been working overtime these days.
That's for sure.
I was starting to think old Flash was bullet-proof, too.
I don't know, I hope to Christ this war is going to be worth it.
You'll want to see the new pilots when they come.
"- I'll be in my office." "- All right. Thank you."
Carry on, then, Nicholson.
They're late.
Probably read old Winnie's speeches in the newspapers.
We're certainly ahead on points.
How the hell do you know, Amanda?
Well, it's quite obvious.
It's in the papers.
I haven't seen my copy of Hotspur this week.
But my bookmaker's still quoting 5-4 on for an invasion.
Where would they land? Eastbourne?
Steady on, Amanda. I have several maiden aunts living in Eastbourne.
I heard they'd go for Rye.
Good golf course.
What's wrong with Hastings?
William the Conqueror knew what he was doing.
Well, it's obvious. Right, boom!
They land at Hastings,
shoot straight up the A21 , and by nightfall, they've got Tunbridge Wells.
Fan out left and they've got East Grinstead.
A quick march and they've got Lingfield, Caterham...
- We've got an army, you know. "- Who says?"
Oh, dear, Moggy, you may be right. We lost half the Army in France.
How many tanks have we got?
1 00? 200?
They've got thousands of them.
This is exciting, isn't it? Where are we?
Right. The Panzer Corps makes a quick dash at Camberwell and Bermondsey
and everyone's in Hampshire for the weekend.
So Jerry's nicely tucked up in the Savoy by midnight.
Then, next day, they're swanning around Sloane Square
and grabbing the tarts in Shepherd's Market.
Harrods wouldn't serve them.
Sobering thought, Moggy. You may be right.
- The Huns win? - Why not? They're on a winning streak.
They've already walked into Denmark, Norway, Holland, Belgium, France.
Poland and Czechoslovakia.
Well, there you go.
The Krauts ruling England?
Yes. What would they do?
Well, for a start, they'd put you in Wormwood Scrubs.
- They'd certainly get my vote on that. - Amanda!
Have you ever voted?
Isn't that amazing? None of you have ever voted.
You're the last bastion of democracy, and you chaps have never voted!
And if Hitler wins, you never will.
Well, politicians are all the same.
Not true.
What's so different in Czechoslovakia now than it was before?
Everything, you fool!
Newspapers...
I only read the Sporting Life.
They control the radio.
Can't be worse than the BBC.
- Wipe out the Trade Unions. - Bloody good luck!
-They arrest the Jews. - Should I cry?
-They ban the liberals. - Shocking lot!
Socialists, Communists...
That shower? Bloody Reds? They're as squalid as the Nazis.
(Shouts in Polish)
I am good Communist. I fight for my country!
You say Communists are same as Nazis, I kill you!
Haddy, old chap, calm down. He didn't mean it.
- He bloody well did! - He was just being provocative.
HADDY: "Then he succeeded."
Haddy, calm down. Come on, take a walk.
- I mean, we're all friends. HADDY: "Not me!"
SKULL: Fine.
Great! You can't trust them.
Bloody foreigners! They ought to be put down at birth.
"Why can't they have their own war?"
Bit of a laugh though, eh?
She's back.
"The Black Widow. Bloody creepy."
Oh, Christ.
Moggy. How wonderful to see you!
What the bloody hell are you doing?
Oh, I'm fine. Say hello to the baby.
I don't want to talk to your bloody baby!
What are you trying to do?
"Do you think Fitz is coming back?"
He's only missing, you know.
Don't be so bloody stupid. He's dead.
Got it? Kaput. Finito.
He ain't coming back!
I'm going to wait.
- I know you're worried about me... - We just want you to go.
You're a jinx, you're a menace.
Just go!
''They also serve who only stand and wait.''
Well, stand somewhere else, you stupid bitch! Now, get in that car!
No!
No! No! My baby!
Just go away, Mary!
Knit socks or mittens, or join the Women's Institute!
Now, don't come back, Mary!
You're spoiling everybody's war!
(Birdsong)
(Alarm bell)
This is it! Everything we've got. 20 squadrons in the air.
I don't believe it. We're gonna outnumber them!
I wouldn't be so sure about that. Skull?
Haddy! Pip! And where's Moggy?
He's gone to see the Black Widow.
"Right, Spencer, let's go!"
Have you got a licence, old boy? This happens to be my kite.
- But the CO told me to... - Sorry, old chap. I'll need these as well.
You can keep the rest.
(Plane engines start)
Hello, Bearskin Leader. This is Trombone.
"Steer 045 and patrol lamp stand at Angels 6."
Happy to oblige, Trombone.
OK, Bearskin Aircraft. Here they come.
"It's like a shooting gallery. In and out fast."
Let's chivvy the stragglers.
Pick your target. Let's go in...
now!
(Machine-gun fire)
Watch the birdie, you bastard!
(Gunfire)
You OK, Haddy?
I can't see!
Well, get out and walk.
"Dump the kite!"
I can't see!
Are we above the water?
"I hate the water!"
Just jump!
Hey, Moggy...
I can see again.
- Was it a miracle? - (Plane shrieks overhead)
"- It was the bloody goggles!" "- Bloody peasant."
(Gunfire) - I hate to be blind.
(Gunfire)
Well...
"I hope you make it."
(Gunfire)
That's Moggy.
(Gunfire)
You've got him.
(Gunfire)
Bloody marvellous!
Flashy sod!
(Gunfire)
Well, I'll be buggered.
(Volley of shots)
Are you all right, sir?
All right?
I'm OK.
You?
Tired.
Refuel and re-arm right away.
"Yes, sir."
SKULL: "Anything for me?"
Bags of stuff.
We probably got six killed.
Haddy and...
..and Chris Hart bought it.
And Moggy.
Oh, Christ!
If anybody really wants to know,
Group says it's our best day ever.
Hell of a scrap, apparently, and I missed it.
There's always tomorrow.
Or even today, old chap.
- Aren't you lucky? - Hope so.
Pretty hairy, eh, sir?
Piece of cake.
"On this day, the 7th of September, 1 940,"
"the Luftwaffe had launched" "its biggest ever raid against Britain"
"with nearly 1,000 German aircraft" "attacking London."
"The pilots of the Luftwaffe had been told" "that the Royal Air Force were at breaking point."
"But Fighter Command did not break"
"and this day was the turning point" "of the Battle of Britain."