The Battle of Britain Five Months That Changed History, May—October 1940 by James Holland (z-lib.org).epub

Tall, good-looking, with a floppy mop of strawberry blond hair that
inevitably led to him being nicknamed ‘Ginger’, Tom had first become
fascinated by aviation during a trip to London with his parents. His father
was on the board of the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, and not
infrequently had to go to London, but on this occasion, they had visited
Croydon aerodrome and there Tom had watched the Handley Page 42s with
awe. Soon after, he had met a young airman and been so taken by the man’s
dash and glamour that at that point he had become determined to make it
his career, much to the disappointment of his parents, both of whom
remembered the Great War only too clearly.
In the years that followed, Tom had not been swayed from his goal,
despite being rebuffed by 611 Auxiliary Squadron. However, having turned
eighteen, he then applied to join the Volunteer Reserve and was accepted.
For almost a year, however, his flying training had to fit around his daytime
job as a clerk for the District Bank in Manchester, which he loathed. Then,
on the outbreak of war, Tom was immediately called up. A few weeks later,
to his relief, he was sent to an Initial Training Wing at Bexhill-on-Sea.
Having gained his wings and been marked out as a fighter pilot, Tom
had joined 249 Squadron. He was hugely keen and enthusiastic, but
otherwise was largely ignorant of what was expected of him. He knew
nothing of high-frequency radio, of being moved around the sky by a
ground controller, of IFF, or even technical matters, such as what a
supercharger did. He had never worn an oxygen mask or a Mae West
inflatable jacket, and had had almost no gunnery training. He and the other
new boys in the squadron were thus very fortunate to have six weeks in
which to learn all these things, and to have some longer-serving pilots on
whose experience they could draw. In the first three weeks, Tom managed
to add eighty hours on the Spitfire, by which time he was thoroughly at
home with the machine. There was gunnery practice too, and formation
flying, at which his flight commander, Boozy Kellett, was a stickler. It
would not be much use in battle but improved his flying skills all the same.
The squadron was also given a sympathetic and understanding medical
officer, who stressed the importance of sleep and rest during times of stress.
Tom had scoffed at the idea, but nonetheless the advice remained lodged in
his mind. There were discussions, too, on how and when to bail out, and
when to try to crash-land with the wheels up. The pilots were warned that
neither the Hurricane nor the Spitfire would float on water; thus, if an