As a baby boomer, I came along two years after the end of WWII when my father returned from the Army. It had been eight years since my mother had her last baby -- she named me Roger, but called me her “life’s work.” My grandsons have inherited some of the same qualities that tried my mother’s patience long ago. Like me, they have been blessed with shrewd and loving mothers.
Mother knew that if she could keep me busy, I was much less likely to find trouble. She learned early on that diverting my attention with a model airplane kit would free her up to follow some of her own pursuits. I made a lot of model airplanes. With each model, I would walk downtown to either Reed Drug or Wells Brady’s radio and electronics store. Wells had been in the Navy during WWII and his shop had an ambiance created from soldering and chain smoking. On the other hand, Reed Drug was fresh and clean -- and had penny candy and a soda fountain. The ladies at the drugstore were friendly but knew next to nothing about model airplanes. Wells had actually been to war and spoke with authority — I usually went to the radio shop. Both stores carried Revell model airplane kits, Testors Plastic Model Cement, and little square bottles of 1/4 oz. Testors Enamel Model Paint. Many of my days were occupied with model-making, gluing, painting, and applying decals.
Making static plastic models morphed into making and flying balsa wood models with small Fox engines, glow plugs, and propellors. Tethered to control lines, these flying models could only fly in a circle. By the time radio control became an option, my attention to flying model airplanes had moved on to more practical pursuits. However, I did not lose an ingrained interest in airplanes. Over the years, I became familiar with the British Spitfire, an interceptor with a Rolls Royce Merlin engine that stalled when inverted due to carburetor floats that didn't like being upside down. That problem was solved with a Rolls Royce Griffin engine that didn't stall and offered more power. Not all British pilots flew Spitfires, but the improved Spitfire made all the difference at a very brief but critical moment in time. When WWII ended, the Spitfire rapidly became obsolete and was relegated to historical prominence.
In 1990, MK and I went with friends to England during the 50th Anniversary of the Battle of Britain. We went to the small Kent Battle of Britain Museum. Our guide had been a child during WWII and recalled watching airplanes flying and fighting overhead, sometimes falling from the sky, and crashing to the ground. A few of the fallen aircraft were on display at the museum. Being on the coast, Dover was the first fighter group to scramble and meet the incoming German Luftwaffe. What I saw at the museum was how ill-prepared England was for an actual invasion. Light tanks, called "Matildas' were basically armored cars and were being replaced, but not in great quantity. Our guide was not enthusiastic about the effectiveness of the preparations saying that, if invaded, England would be meat in the German's sandwiches. He did point out that for some, preparation for war meant having enough doggie gas masks for the Corgis. Yes, there were a few of those on display. It was clear, even to this casual observer, that everything hinged on keeping German boots on French soil.
So it all depended on air superiority -- and at first, this meant superior German pilots flying superior German airplanes. So how did the ill-prepared British win the Battle of Britain? If a German pilot survived being shot down over England, he was captured and sent to a prisoner-of-war camp. On the other hand, surviving British pilots would be in the air the next day, in a new Spitfire. The Battle of Britain became a battle of attrition. The loss or capture of mature German pilots resulted in younger and younger, less experienced pilots facing more and more experienced English pilots. Germany realized this all too late and it was only a matter of time before Germany’s decimated air force lost domination of the sky. After losing the Battle of Britain, everything for Germany that followed became a form of retreat. Winston Churchill observed, "Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by many to so few."
When I passed my urology boards in 1981, MK bought me a print of the pastel by Barrie A.F. Clark, showing an airborne Spitfire coming out of clouds and darkened skies, amid rays of sunlight, symbolic of my life at that moment -- reminding me that I am still a little boy at heart.
Ever vigilant,
RT
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