MORE THAN JUST A FASHION, IT'S A BADGE OF HONOUR



 
Summer 1940 and as Britain stands alone to face the relentless onslaught of the Nazi war machine which marches unopposed across Europe, the Battle of Britain begins. As bombs rain down on London and the major industrial cities, families huddle round their radio sets during the long and fearful blackouts to listen for news and in the hope of salvation. Meanwhile in Whitehall, Churchill calls his staff together and demands action.
 
And so it is that during Britain's darkest hour, Air Chief Marshall Sir Arthur 'Bomber' Harris signs the order for the formation of a brand new squadron; an elite fighting force to take on the might of the seemingly invincible Luftwaffe. Hand picked for their bravery and combat skills, these brave young men carry two things on their shoulders; the weight of an expectant nation and a new insignia – the Brown Wings Crest.
 
With their motto 'tergo adveho victoria'- 'from behind comes victory' proudly displayed above the entrance to the Officer's mess and adorning their planes, the Brown Wings Squadron is instantly recognisable in the air due to the distinctive Brown wingtips on their Spits. This combined with their astonishing ability to penetrate the enemy from behind with maximum success leads to their German opponents naming them 'die geissel auf dem himmel' – the scourge of the skies.
 
Based at RAF Lower Clutter in Kent, an elite group of pilots such as those assembled within Brown Wings Squadron could only be led by one man; the renowned flying ace Donald 'Fruity' Metcalfe, DSO and Bar. Although only 23, Metcalfe is already a legend in the service with over 50 confirmed kills. Within the ranks are brave and extraordinary young men, men who become heroes to millions via their skill and dexterity with their sticks between their legs; Binky Jones, Donkey Dawkins, Ron 'Rear Gunner' Powell, Ginger 'Minge' Watkins, Johnny 'Cocoa' Collins, Terry 'Smudger' Smythe, legends every one of them.
 
At the height of the Battle of Britain the men of Brown Wings Squadron were at the very edge of their physical and mental limits. The stress of flying mission after mission was taking its toll and sadly not all returned to the mess for ginger beer, a ration of bully beef and an ounce of good shag. The first casualty was squadron legend Donkey Dawkins, lost over the Channel after an encounter with a group of bandits. Details remain sketchy as to the exact type of plane which shot Donkey down as his last words across a static-addled line were reportedly 'The Fokke got me'. RAF records however, suggest it was actually a Meschersmitt and not a Fokke Wulfe which did the damage. Although he managed to bail out from his burning kite, it seems that sadly, Donkey drowned. Apparently the appendage from which the name Donkey was derived proved to be his downfall causing severe drag as he floundered in the sea and he drowned due to the exhaustion caused by swimming round in circles.
 
But it wasn't just the Hun which did for the brave Brown Wings boys, sometimes it was the psychological damage which caused the saddest tragedies. Smudger Smythe, so-called because of his inability to write without smudging the ink – an unfortunate result of cockpit cramp caused by too many hours alone in the mess without the love of a good woman – was confined to barracks and died as a result of severe head injuries.
 
It seems that the stress of sortie after sortie got too much for poor Smudger who tried to hang himself with his braces and subsequently brained himself on the ceiling.

These tragedies aside, Fruity Metcalfe held the remaining squadron members together and by September of 1940 the Luftwaffe was sent packing, it's tail between its legs and Hitler's planned invasion of the UK was thwarted. However, there remained one last, sad chapter in the story of Brown Wings Squadron.

Having been received and decorated by the King for their various acts of valour, the squadron members left Buckingham Palace for a nights furlough in the city they had fought so hard to protect. In a sad irony, it was not in the air that they ultimately met their fate. As the squadron members were enjoying a drink and the company of some young ladies in the appropriately named Brown Hat public house in London's East End, a direct hit from a German bomber extinguished the bright light of those young pilots. All that was recovered from the rubble was a pair of flight goggles, Fruity's white silk scarf and Ginger's pipe full of old shag.
 
With the best part of five years of the war still remaining and many heroic deeds still to take place, the exploits of Brown Wings Squadron became lost in the annals of RAF history. That is, until now.

So, join us as we honour those brave young men. Don your Brown Wings gear and salute them one and all!