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

Pete, who shot down his second confirmed enemy plane of the day, an Me
109 flown by Gerhard Müller-Dühe from Dolfo Galland’s III/JG 26. ‘His
score was five,’ says Pete. ‘Curiously, he was my fifth. He should have
known better.’
That Sunday was the Luftwaffe’s last big effort for a few days, as a front of
bad weather once again scuppered German plans. Yet the first week had
shown that the Dowding System was working. There had been moments of
extreme anxiety, yet on the whole Fighter Command had come through
well. Dowding’s rotation of squadrons was also allowing fresh squadrons to
enter the fray. On the 19th, for example, 616 Squadron were sent south, to
bomb-damaged Kenley, near Biggin Hill, to replace the battle-weary 64
Squadron.
Cocky Dundas was, like Tom Neil a few days earlier, excited by the
move south, although the reality soon hit home when he reached Kenley
and saw the ruins of the station. Wrecked aircraft and vehicles lay strewn
around the perimeter, newly filled craters dotted the field, while a number
of the buildings were blackened wrecks. Still there was 615 Squadron,
which had lost one pilot killed and three wounded, as well as eight
Hurricanes the day before, and many more during the past month. Cocky
noticed the obvious strain on the faces of the 615 pilots; the tension and
weariness in the mess were palpable.
Three days later, the Prime Minister arrived at the airfield. All the pilots
lined up to shake his hand. No sooner had Cocky done so than Corporal
Durham raced out of dispersal yelling to the pilots to scramble. As Cocky
sprinted to his Spitfire, he wondered whether the whole thing had been put
on especially for Churchill; certainly, it had been quiet since they had
arrived with barely an enemy plane in sight.
Climbing to 12,000 feet, they were above Dover, and Cocky was
thinking about going into London that evening, when several explosions
suddenly burst around him. In seconds, the cockpit was filled with thick,
hot smoke, blinding him entirely. Centrifugal force had pressed him back
against his seat and he knew he was now spinning. Panic and terror
consumed him fully. ‘Christ, this is the end,’ he thought, then told himself,
‘Get out, you bloody fool. Open the hood and get out.’ Using both hands,
he tugged the handle where the canopy locked on to the top of the
windscreen, but after he had moved it back an inch it jammed. Smoke