The Misfits were woken by a knocking at the door the next morning at around nine. They had been planning to have a lie in before going down to the restaurant for a hearty breakfast, but the insistence of the knocking put paid to that.

Gwen slipped on a robe and padded across the room to open the door, revealing a moderately impatient doorman, who handed her a note without a word then bent down to pick up various packages from the floor which he deposited on the coffee table in the middle of the room. He bowed his way out again quickly and she shut the door after him before breaking the seal on the note with a yawn.

‘What is it?’ Scarlet came wandering out of her bedroom. It was just as well that the man had already left because she hadn’t bothered to put on a robe and was only wearing an extremely skimpy nightie.

Gwen scanned the note rapidly. ‘It’s from the commander, Sir Douglas Pewtall... He’s sent officer’s day uniforms for Kitty and me!’

Kitty squealed in delight and rushed past Gwen to open the packages, but Gwen kept reading. ‘The commander also asks whether Aviator Lieutenant Flynn would care to dine with him the next time she is in London.’ She turned to grin at Scarlet. ‘It seems you made quite an impression last night and not only on the King!’

Scarlet grinned and tossed her hair as she flounced back to her room. ‘Of course I did!’ she called over her shoulder.

The Misfits spent the day in London, taking in the sights and doing a bit of shopping.

They all enjoyed themselves, but it was Scarlet who had the most fun, laughing at Kitty and Gwen, who were wearing their new officer’s uniforms and top hats and couldn’t stop peering around to see if anyone was looking at them.

They had lunch in a lovely restaurant near Trafalgar Square after spending a couple of hours in the National Gallery so that Kitty could say that she had at least done something cultural in her next letter home, then at five in the evening they returned to The Dorchester to clean up and get ready for their night out, intending to do the things that they had planned for the previous evening.

However, it seemed that the fates had no intention of letting them enjoy themselves.

Sirens started to blare only five minutes before they were due to leave their room. They were closely followed by the chatter of guns and the Misfits rushed to the windows to look out over the airfield, seeing the flashes from the muzzles of the anti-aircraft guns stationed around its perimeter as they fired at some unseen threat overhead. Seconds later there was the unmistakable crump of bombs exploding, far away, but close enough to be well within the confines of London.

Their eyes were drawn to the hangar at the end of the runway where they had left their aircraft as Spitsteams of the Royal Guards streamed out of it, already accelerating for takeoff as they came through the doors. Sensibly, they weren’t red, but instead wore the same camouflage as the Spitsteams of regular squadrons with the addition of a thick gold band running from front to back half-way along the wing, just inside the roundels, to distinguish them from the others. Their formation was slightly ragged as they took off, which was only to be expected with the unusual method that they were employing, but within moments they had formed up in three wings of four and as soon as they cleared the airfield perimeter they turned sharply to fly past The Dorchester, almost close enough to touch.

Kitty looked to Scarlet and Gwen. ‘What should we do? Do you think we should get into the air and help?’

Scarlet just shook her head. ‘By the time we get up the Fleas will be long gone. Go and pack; we’re not going to be having any fun tonight.’

The Irishwoman was right and less than an hour later the call came for them to return to Badger Base; Misfit Squadron had been put back on active duty.

They packed hurriedly and checked out, then rushed to the airfield, where they were expected. They changed into their flightsuits and went through their pre-flight checks as quickly as they could, but even so it was almost dark by the time they were in the air and it became a race against the sun to see if they could get home before it was too dark to see the airfield.

They lost and had to circle the base for half an hour, waiting until a nearby raid had gone by before the electric lights lining the airfield could be switched on to guide them in.

As soon as their aircraft were safely in the hangar they reported to Abby in the mess, which was far quieter than they had ever seen it and she filled them in on what had been happening.

In only two days of operations unchecked by the Misfits, the Fleas, and the Crimson Barons in particular, had undone most of the advances made by the RAC over the previous weeks. They had intensified their offensive against RAC bases and had even bombed many of the flying clubs and mansions that the squadrons had moved to, most of which were marked on pre-war maps. As a result, many of the temporary airfields were now closed and Badger Base was the only official RAC base in the south of England still open for air operations. It was just as well the Mark IIa Harridans had entered into service because they at least were able to somewhat stem the tide against the MU’s and HH’s, but the Barons were running amok, just like the Misfits before them, and the sixteen of them had reportedly accounted for almost 80 RAC aircraft.

Then, when the British had been placed firmly on the back foot, the enemy had become much bolder and added new targets. The attempted bombing of the London docklands and East End had been only one of several attacks on the cities as the Prussians attempted to demoralise the ordinary civilians, just as they were doing their air force.

It had been no surprise, therefore, when Abby was informed by HQ that the squadron was back on an operational footing, effective immediately, and ordered to recall her pilots and cancel all leave. Only a couple of the pilots were even remotely upset by the news - Monty, because he’d planned to hike the surrounding Downs in search of rare birds, and Mac, because he'd been hoping to nip back up to Scotland in Swordfish to replenish his supply of whisky, which was running dangerously low - but their disappointment was almost completely nullified by the prospect of flying again.

Prussian morale was at an all-time high - captured pilots invariably laughed in the face of captivity, claiming that they would be freed in days when the invasion came and Prussian propaganda came over with the bombers and leaflets were dropped on the cities along with the bombs. They proclaimed that the Misfits were cowards and had gone into hiding, that the population were helpless against the might of Die Fliegertruppe, and that the British King should call for the immediate and unconditional surrender of the entire Kingdom of Britain before too many civilians were killed in the legitimate raids on those military targets which were using the populace as a human shield.

Instead of being cowed, the British public responded to the raids and the propaganda in typical British fashion and were outraged, refusing to give an inch. Even though they had no real idea of who the Misfits were, they began a campaign in support of them. Overnight the squadron became a household name and during the following days the government began to release select details of Misfit Squadron’s exploits, not naming the pilots (except for Abby, who was set up as a figurehead) but rather giving the names of the aircraft, which began almost to take on personalities in their own right.

This newfound fame did nothing to change life for the pilots, though, beyond giving them something to laugh about when tales of their exploits, treated with a vast amount of artistic license, began to appear in the newspapers.

The Misfits had gone back onto active duty the morning after the three women had returned from London, but with a single limitation - they were only to engage the Barons and leave the regular Fleas to the other RAC squadrons. They weren’t exactly pleased by the order; while they were certainly hoping to get a crack at the Barons, they were forced to ignore the other aircraft, which continued to bomb cities and shoot down their fellow RAC pilots.

As the days passed the tactic began to wear down not only the nerves of the Misfits, but also their reserves of springs; in order to be on hand to respond whenever the Barons appeared, they were forced to go on far longer patrols than usual, using the dual spring capabilities of the aircraft to stay in the air sometime hours at a time and they were going through their stockpile of springs very rapidly and with the turn in the RAC’s fortunes, replacements were not particularly forthcoming. They had very little to show for it either because whenever they responded to a sighting of the Barons, the red aircraft invariably broke off and dived away as soon as they were in sight, obviously under instructions not to engage them. The Misfits had orders to pursue the Barons until they were out of British airspace, then loiter along the coast until radar confirmed that Gruber and his troupe weren’t swinging back around, but even then they weren’t allowed to go after the other Fleas, instead they were ordered to land and rewind, ready to be back in the air for when the Barons returned later.

The one bright light in the darkness was that construction of Bruce’s new aircraft had continued apace in Gwen’s absence and was well on its way to completion by her return - because the Misfits had been grounded, the entire staff of fitters had been able to work on it and while most of them went about sorting through spare parts or fabricating anything that was missing, Bruce’s team of fitters did the actual assembly. Even so, it wasn’t quite finished when the squadron was put back into service and once again they were an aircraft short. However, one afternoon, less than a week after Bandicoot’s destruction, the aircraft was finished and ready for testing, which Bruce carried out with vigour and not a little impatience, declaring it fit for service after only an hour of aerobatics and manoeuvres above the Kent Downs, a safe distance away from the airfield.

The new craft still didn’t have a name, though, and Bruce refused to give it one, insisting that Gwen should have the honour of both that and assigning its colours, although he did make one request: that she use “no bloody pink, please.”

After a few hours careful consideration, Gwen had a quiet word with Bruce’s fitters and the next morning, when the squadron was pushed out, they were brought back to full strength by a shiny black aircraft named Devil with a white stripe across its belly beneath the cockpit and a dark brown nose.

Fortunately, the squadron’s frustration didn’t last very long; when RAC command saw the Barons’ continuing refusal to engage they gave the Misfits permission to go after the other aircraft in an attempt to lure the elite Prussians back into the fight.

Two glorious days of air combat followed and the Misfits shot down as many Fleas as the Barons had in the same time, but with half as many pilots. It seemed to everyone on the British side that the Barons would have to stop running away and engage them, otherwise they risked the destruction of the morale of their forces by being seen to run in the face of smaller forces.

The response, when it came, was highly disappointing, but at the same time almost impossible to believe; the very next day the Barons turned up escorting bombers engaged in raids on the factories of Manchester, Leeds and Liverpool. According to radar they had come from the direction of Denmark or Norway, but they shouldn’t have had the range to fly so far, even with dual springs, let alone have enough tension left to engage the fighters that scrambled to meet them like they did. Unfortunately, that put the Baron’s beyond the Misfits’ reach; they were just too far away, unless, of course, the squadron moved north, which Whitehall considered ordering them to do until Abby pointed out to them that there was nothing stopping the Barons from just going back to their previous base of operations as soon as the Misfits showed up.

In the end, the Misfits were left where they were and quickly settled back into the rhythm they had established before the Barons had appeared, flying multiple sorties each day against large bombing formations, which was exhausting and dangerous, but not nearly as much as spending hours on end in the cockpit chasing after red ghosts.

With a return to more normal duties, the pilots were able to relax slightly and Abby thought it was high time that they threw a party for the entire squadron, both to celebrate Kitty and Gwen’s promotion and as a christening for Devil. In order to accommodate everyone and have enough room left over for the new aircraft, she decided to hold it in the hangar and as soon as the pilots were released for the day, preparations began: the aircraft were pushed to the sides, all except for Dreadnought, which was just pushed back as far as it could go and Devil, which was put in pride of place right in front of the doors so that everybody had to walk past it when they entered and could get a good look at Gwen’s design; bars were set up along both sides, both to have drinks within easy reach and to prevent drunken airmen from getting too close to the aircraft; tables were brought in from the messes to hold the food which would be served buffet-style; lastly, a small stage was built for musicians under Dreadnought’s nose and the rest of the space was dedicated as a dance floor.

In less than two hours everything was ready and Abby sent messengers to each mess to say that the party would start at eight o’clock, just after sunset.

Despite one of the reasons for the party being the celebration of the recent promotions, the wing commander had announced that, in true Misfit fashion, rank was to be completely set aside for the night, which meant that no saluting was permitted and there were also to be no “sirs” or “madams” or deference of any kind allowed. She also said that, since nobody on the base really had any other clothing apart from their uniforms, any modifications that people wanted to make to them for the night were perfectly acceptable, which included makeup and non-regulation hairdos.

Scarlet had moved in with Kitty and Gwen as soon as they’d gotten back from London and the three of them had gotten dressed together. The Irishwoman had a few silk scarves that she used to protect her neck on missions (she had very delicate skin) and they had each taken one - red for her, pink for Gwen and white for Kitty - and tied them around their waists, disguising their uniforms somewhat and adding a welcome touch of colour that they hoped would make them stand out in a sea of plain blue. It didn’t take them long to get ready and at eight o’clock they were in the hangar, along with everybody else in the base not on duty, standing in front of the small stage and looking up at Abby.

The wing commander had given a short speech, welcoming everybody and introducing the aircraft that they had all seen, as well as congratulated Kitty and Gwen on their promotion. She went on to remind everyone that anyone caught giving an order, saluting, or calling anybody sir or madam would be given kitchen duty the next day and have to wash up the plates while the cooks rested from the effort they had made. Owen had interrupted her, asking her whether that was an order and she had answered yes without thinking, then realised what she had done and sworn up a storm, which had everybody laughing. She was pardoned her mistake by a very democratic vote, but warned not to do it again and made to down a pint of beer in punishment.

It was an unusual and fun night and Gwen and Kitty were very much the centre of attention. They received request after request for dances, which they felt that they couldn’t refuse, and didn’t have any time to themselves, barely being able to snatch a drink in between sets. At one point, Jimmy surprised Gwen by dancing a very energetic jitterbug which had the two of them occupying the centre of the dance floor and being cheered on by everyone else. He tried to hold onto her for a second dance, which happened to be a slow number, but Mad Mac bodily picked him up and deposited the boy to one side saying it was his turn. Jimmy wasn’t very disappointed though, because his antics had caught the eye of many of the younger airwomen and they were literally queueing up to dance with him for the rest of the night. The rest of the pilots were also popular targets for dances; the men and women of the base were seizing the opportunity to get to know their heroes with both hands and not letting it escape.

Bruce also received a lot of attention and he spent much of the night standing next to his new aircraft, either gazing at her in admiration or answering questions. The one question that he was asked over and over was about the machine’s name and he gave the same answer every time. ‘Devil? Nothing to do with the bible, cobber! No, we’re talking Tasmanian Devil! One of the fiercest creatures you’ll ever meet. The perfect name for her!’

Unfortunately, they had operations in the morning so Abby was forced to end the party early and at midnight she gave the band - a group of airmen and women who could play instruments and had volunteered to form a jazz band for the night - instructions for one last slow dance. A rendition of “We’ll Meet Again” had the entire squadron singing along and almost in tears, but it was a perfect end to a perfect night and everybody went to bed feeling that they were part of something truly special.

Thank you so much for reading. ‘The Battle Over Britain’ is Simon Brading's first novel in his ‘Misfit Squadron’ series. More information on where to obtain the book as well as other information about Simon and the series can be found on his website. Also, Simon would love to hear from you about this, or any of his work — please get in touch on Bluesky. We invite you to read Chapter Fourteen by clicking the right-arrow down there on the right. If you missed out on Chapter Twelve you can go back and read it now by clicking the left-arrow below. Alternatively, you can go back to the beginning, the Prologue, with the beginning-arrow also over on the left.