At the height of the Battle of Britain, one Squadron was recognised as being more fearless, more deadly and more successful than any other within the RAF in the defence of this green and pleasant land. Led by the highly decorated and universally respected Squadron Leader Donald ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe, DSO & BAR, Brown Wings Squadron was a perpetual thorn in the side of the Luftwaffe.

Now, for the first time, you can learn of their exploits within the Mission Archives.



Official Report into the action of Monday 12th August 1940 – Dogfight over Dover as logged by Sqdrn Ldr D Metcalfe, Brown Wings Squadron.

The call to scramble came through at 0725 hours and we were out of the dispersal hut and into our kites within 5 minutes. There was a close shave as Donkey Dawkins had a problem with his undercarriage and it didn’t look like he’d make it off the ground but we were all in the air and in formation as the Hun made their way towards Dover.

Ginger spotted the enemy; a formation of Heinkel 113 Bombers with an escort of ME 109’s. I gave the order to attack taking Dawkins and Smudger as my wing men and engaged the enemy from the rear. It was a typical Brown Wings Squadron penetrative thrust from below and behind. Smudger peeled off left and hit the bull’s eye catching a Heinkel right in the bomb doors, pulling out as his shot exploded.



Meanwhile Collins, Watkins and Blythe were in the second attack wave and entered the fray targeting a breakaway Heinkel and ripping its tail section to shreds. Dawkins, Smudger and I gave support while the third wave attacked as by now the escort of 109’s were buzzing round like angry wasps. Unfortunately, Taylor who was in the second plane of the third wave bought it taking a direct hit to the cockpit. Poor blighter didn’t even get a chance to bail out before his bird went down on him.

Meanwhile, the dogfight intensified but the plucky lads of Brown Wings Squadron remained firm. The bombers had broken formation and were attempting to retreat while their fighter escort continued to engage us on all sides. We’d been in tight spots before but things were getting hairy now. The 109’s were doing their utmost to get at us but the chaps performed well executing every move in the book with the skill and dexterity I’d come to expect from them.

In the end, our precision fire and penetrative action was too much for the Hun. Only three 113’s escaped to limp back over the Channel and they bore the battle scars of an engagement with the mighty Brown Wings Squadron. As they nursed themselves over a plate of Knockwurst and Sauerkraut, we jolly boys relaxed in the mess with ginger beer and an ounce of Old Shag in our pipes; a job well done.