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

which had already been lit by the duty ops telephone operator. Around the
walls were the pilots’ day cots, iron single beds.
Tony put on his Mae West then went over to his own aircraft and
chatted to his fitter, Wallace, who was already checking her over. Each pilot
had a fitter and rigger to look after his plane. Complete trust in these men
was essential and usually justifiably earned. Wallace assured him his Spit
was running like a bird.
He wandered back to dispersal, where he spent the next few hours
waiting to be scrambled, trying to catch up on his sleep and hoping his
hangover would wear off. He was eventually scrambled three times that
day, but it was in the last sortie that the squadron intercepted the large
enemy raids heading for London. Two more of their pilots were shot down
and wounded, but that night, having been stood down, they had dinner and
then once again headed to the White Hart.
Every squadron had its own culture, usually dictated by the character of
the squadron leader and two flight commanders, but since there were few
fighter pilots over the age of twenty-seven, it was understandable that these
young men should want to relax by drinking in the evening. Some pilots
never drank a drop, others, like Allan Wright, were sufficiently of their own
mind not to be swayed by any kind of peer pressure, and would only join in
when they felt like it. It was true that 92 Squadron were particularly fond of
playing hard in the evening, but they were not the only ones by any means.
Bee Beamont and the 87 Squadron pilots would be down the pub most
nights, as would those in 32 Squadron. ‘We used to booze dreadfully,’ says
Pete Brothers. One day they were stood down because of low cloud and
rain, so they went to the mess and got pissed. By early afternoon, however,
the sun had come out and they were suddenly called to readiness and then
scrambled. ‘I shall never forget taking off and thinking, “That button…turn
it that way…switch on gunsights…” We were all absolutely tanked. Mind
you, when you saw black crosses, you were instantly sober.’
There was always Benzedrine, which some medical officers would hand
out more liberally than others. In 92 Squadron, Bob Holland was notorious
for taking the drug in order to get himself going in the morning, although
most pilots with sore heads found that a few deep inhalations of oxygen
were enough to clear the head. For Pete Brothers, as for others, the boozing
was done because it was fun and they were young and because they could.
But it also helped them not to dwell on things too much. The camaraderie of