The Battle of Britain: Five Months That Changed History; May-October 1940

by James Holland Narrated by Shaun Grindell

Overview

The Battle of Britain paints a stirring picture of an extraordinary summer when the fate of the world hung by a thread. Historian James Holland has now written the definitive account of those months based on extensive new research from around the world, including thousands of new interviews with people on both sides of the battle.



If Britain's defenses collapsed, Hitler would have dominated all of Europe. With France facing defeat and British forces pressed back to the Channel, there were few who believed Britain could survive; but, thanks to a sophisticated defensive system and the combined efforts of the Royal Air Force, the Royal Navy, and the defiance of a new Prime Minister, Britain refused to give in.



From clashes between coastal convoys and Schnellboote in the Channel to astonishing last stands in Flanders, slaughter by U-boats in an icy Atlantic, and dramatic aerial battles over England, The Battle of Britain tells this epic World War II story in a fresh and compelling voice.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

This work enhances Holland's (Italy's Sorrow) developing reputation as a writer of popular military history with a solid scholarly dimension. He shifts effortlessly from a cockpit perspective to the planning systems of the Royal Air Force and the Luftwaffe, and the political decisions that determined the pattern of air combat over Britain in the summer and fall of 1940. Holland ascribes Germany's defeat to a comprehensive unpreparedness for war that, in particular, required the Luftwaffe to do too much with too little. The advantage the Messerschmitt Bf 109 possessed over the Spitfire I in a dogfight (easily Holland's most controversial assertion) came nowhere near compensating for "a catalogue of mistakes," ranging from poor intelligence to incompetent handling of the fighter force. The Luftwaffe's defects were highlighted by the RAF's qualities: Holland pays tribute at every turn to the heroism, the spirit, and the endurance of the fighter pilots and affirms the skill of their "inspired and brilliant leaders." But this book appropriately reserves its final praise for the British people and their collective defiance during five crucial months. 16 pages of b&w photos; maps. (Mar.)

From the Publisher

This massive volume is informative, enthralling, and moving—often all three at once...Genuinely brilliant.” —Booklist

“Thoroughly researched yet written in a relaxed, enjoyable style.” —History Book Review

“…Holland is a young historian who has forged a considerable reputation, especially for his intimate human portraits of the men who fought on both sides of the war…this is a notable account of an epic human experience, told with the informality and enthusiasm that distinguish Holland's work…If the story is familiar, Holland tells it with authority and exuberant panache.” —Max Hastings, author of Winston's War, in The Sunday Times UK

“The 70th anniversary of the battle...has prompted a surge of new books and the republication of several old ones. Among the best is the comprehensive new study by James Holland... Holland's book has all the hallmarks of his previous successes: the gripping narrative; the ability to recreate the intensity of combat, the breadth of research; and the authoritative historical judgments.” —The Spectator UK

“The novelty of Holland's excellent book…lies in its extended time frame, and also in its use of first-hand sources from both sides of the conflict, and its assertion that the battle was not won by the RAF alone. Holland prefers his history to be about people, and his dazzling cast of characters includes civilians and servicemen, men and women, young and old.” —The Telegraph UK

From the Publisher - AUDIO COMMENTARY

"This massive volume is informative, enthralling, and moving often all three at once. . . . Genuinely brilliant." —Booklist Starred Review

Library Journal

The subtitle indicates one of the British author Holland's points: that the battle to save Britain actually started when Hitler invaded Western Europe in the spring of 1940, although the Battle of Britain is usually defined as from mid-July to mid-September. Holland's (Italy's Sorrow) main theme is the epic confrontation between the Royal Air Force and the German Luftwaffe, especially after the British, pushed to the English Channel from their toehold at Dunkerque, evacuated the Continent. The desperate Fighter Command effectively utilized its outnumbered forces to deny the Germans the aerial superiority that was necessary to invade Britain. Holland examines the changing tactics and administrative wrangling on both sides, particularly the unseemly way that the successful British commanders Dowding and Park were treated. What makes this book ultimately captivating is Holland's focus on the civilians and lower ranks, both British and German, during this difficult time. He conducted many new interviews that give his book a very human feel. He also taps a variety of archival sources and existing accounts. VERDICT A readable complement to Stephen Bungay's acclaimed The Most Dangerous Enemy: The Definitive History of the Battle of Britain, this is recommended for all history buffs and World War II students. With good maps and endnotes.—Daniel K. Blewett, Coll. of DuPage Lib., Glen Ellyn, IL

Kirkus Reviews

Jam-packed account of the moment in 1940 when Britain stood alone against the Nazi menace.

British historian Holland (Italy's Sorrow: A Year of War, 1944–45, 2007, etc.) provides a thorough reconsideration of the Battle of Britain that is both staggeringly technical and dramatically engaging. According to the author, the battle began well before RAF Air Chief Marshal Hugh Dowding's squadrons took on Hermann Göring's mighty Luftwaffe over southeast England in July 1940. It is hard now to imagine how isolated and vulnerable Britain had grown at the increasing demonstrations of German aggression. With its lightning thrust into Belgium, Holland and France in the spring of 1940, the Nazi war machine seemed invincible. The French, despite having greater forces than the Germans, "had fallen for Nazi spin-doctoring." Hemmed in with the British along the Channel coast, the Allied forces were saved from annihilation by a last-minute halt by the Germans, allowing them a miraculous evacuation from Dunkirk. As the French crumbled, the British were largely expected to sue for peace as well, if the prevailing defeatist voices were to be believed. The galvanizing role of the new prime minister, Winston Churchill, has been amply documented elsewhere, and Holland underscores the power of his rhetoric in steeling the nation to its defiant task, aided by the press and media. Thanks to delays caused by bad weather and Nazi dithering, the British were gaining strength and producing new aircraft at startling speed, so that by July they were ready for the Luftwaffe's onslaught. Holland uses numerous interviews with British and German pilots for respective takes on strategy, and he takes a frank look at the strengths and weaknesses of each side. In the end, Hitler could not launch an invasion of Britain until the RAF could be destroyed—and the British did not let that happen.

A painstakingly detailed history of the battle that exposed the myth of Nazi invincibility.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170661053
Publisher:	Tantor Audio
Publication date:	09/26/2017
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN (Chapter 1)First Flight

SUNDAY, 5 MAY 1940, a little after two that afternoon. A warm, sunny day over much of Britain, but above Drem aerodrome, a busy grass airfield some twenty miles east of Edinburgh, a deep blue sky was pock-marked with bright white cumulus drifting lazily across the Scottish headland on a gentle breeze. Perfect flying weather, in fact, which was just as well because Pilot Officer David Crook could barely contain his excitement any longer.

Dispersed around one end of the airfield, beside the concrete perimeter track, were the twelve Spitfires of 609 (West Riding) Squadron. Elsewhere, further along around the airfield’s edge, were more Spitfires, as well as various other aircraft, including a number of Harvard and Magister trainers. Clutching his leather flying helmet and parachute, David followed his friend and flight commander, Pip Barran, from the wooden dispersal hut towards the line of Spitfires. Groundcrew were busy around several of them, including L.1083, a Mk IA, and one of four that had been delivered to the squadron at the end of the previous August.

David had missed their arrival, although he had seen the squadron’s first two Spits land at 609’s pre-war base at Yeadon in Yorkshire on 19 August – just a few days after their last peacetime summer camp had ended. Flying ageing Hawker Hind biplanes had been grand enough fun, but the news that the squadron was to convert to Spitfires had been greeted with euphoria by all concerned. Like any man or boy alive, David had wanted to fly one of these beautiful machines ever since he had first heard about them. With its powerful Rolls-Royce Merlin engine and sleek, curving lines, the Spitfire was an ultra-modern machine of barely imaginable power. Moreover, its heritage could not be bettered; Supermarine, its maker, had won the Schneider Trophy – the award given to the fastest aircraft in the world – a decade or so before for the third consecutive time.

Although an Auxiliary Air Force squadron made up of ‘weekend fliers’, 609 had been mobilized shortly before the outbreak of war. Yet while some of the more experienced pilots had headed straight to Catterick in anticipation of the beginning of hostilities, David and five other Auxiliary pupil pilots had been left behind, first to kick their heels for a month at Yeadon, and then to be sent to complete their flying training.

David had finished his training just a fortnight before, and his leave the previous day. Of the six that had been sent to Flying Training School (FTS), only four were now returning to 609. Two of them, Gordon Mitchell and Michael Appleby, had driven up to Scotland with David the day before, having all met up for lunch in Leeds. They had stopped again for dinner in Alnwick, before finally arriving at Drem in time for reunion drinks in the mess.

It had been good to be back amongst his old friends once more, although there were a number of new faces too, including three regular RAF pilots and four members of the Volunteer Reserve. At first glance they had seemed decent enough, however, and David had been pleased to notice that, despite a new CO, the old atmosphere of 609 was little changed. And Drem seemed like a good spot, with enough hangars and activity to whet the enthusiasm of any keen young pilot, and plenty of golf nearby, as well as tennis and squash courts. Furthermore, Edinburgh, with its mass of pubs and entertainments, was just a short drive away.

Best of all, however, was the prospect of spending many happy hours flying Spitfires. At last! And Pip had been quick to put him out of his misery. A half-hour flight in a Harvard in the morning and then he and the others had been given the all-clear to take the Spitfire up.

The wheels of the petrol bowser had left their impression in the grass and the smell of high-octane aviation fuel was still strong as David and Pip reached L.1083. The two groundcrew – the plane’s fitter and rigger – were still finishing preparing the aircraft for flight as Pip led David around the Spitfire for the external checks, stepping carefully over the lead from the accumulator trolley that fed into the cowling. With his helmet now on, and his parachute strapped and dangling slightly from his backside, David then climbed on to the root of the port wing and, at Pip’s instruction, hoisted himself over the half-door and down into the cockpit. Clambering on to the wing beside him, Pip then talked him through any unfamiliar aspects of the plane, reminded him of the settings, and then, with a cheery smile, jumped down and left him to it.

David kept the rounded canopy pushed back behind his seat as he clipped his radio leads on to his helmet. The cockpit was narrow – just three feet wide – but even for a man of decent height and build like David it did not feel cramped: he could move his arms easily enough, while his feet rested comfortably on the pale green metal pedals. The smell was distinctive – as it was in all aircraft; a mixture of oil, metal, hydraulic fluid, sweat, rubber and fuel. Not unpleasant at all; reassuring, rather.

Elevator set, rudder fully pushed to the right. Flaps up, artificial horizon set. With his left hand, David set the throttle next to his knee to the start-up position, switched on the radio button and then, with his right hand, turned the engine start isolation switch to ‘on’. He unscrewed the priming plunger locknut and began priming the engine. Magneto switches on. Fuel selector on. Glancing out, he saw the groundcrew, then he leaned forward slightly to the bottom centre of the panel and with the index and middle fingers of his right hand simultaneously pressed the engine start and booster coil buttons. As the engine began to turn he vigorously worked the priming pump until, after a few seconds, and with a lick of flame and a belch of smoke from the exhaust stubs, the mighty Merlin roared into life. He carried out his magneto checks, then gave a nod to the groundcrew, who now pulled the chocks clear. A voice from control – he was clear to roll.

The noise was incredible. The airframe was shaking, the engine growling angrily, so that even though the sound was muffled by his tightly fitting flying helmet and earpieces, it was still a throbbing roar. In front of him, blocking his forward view entirely, was the engine cowling, pointing imperiously skywards, the propeller a faint whirr. Glancing out, he saw the groundcrew unplug the lead from the accumulator trolley and pull it clear. Then hearing the static-distorted voice of the ground controller give him the all-clear, he acknowledged, released the brakes and felt the Spitfire roll forward.

Zig-zagging slowly so that he could see what was ahead of him, he successfully manoeuvred the beast to the end of the grass runway and then paused one more time to check that everything was OK. Engine temperature was already 100 degrees – it had risen alarmingly quickly. He glanced again at the dials, tightened the primer locknut, and then opened the throttle.

The effect took his breath away. The engine powered up with a smooth roar and the Spitfire leapt forward like a bullet, the fuselage almost trying to twist from the huge torque from the Merlin. Easing the stick forward slightly as he’d been told to do, he felt the fuselage rise and the cowling lower so that at last he could see ahead of him. Then, before David barely knew what was happening, the Spitfire was hurtling at ninety miles per hour and then the shuddering along the ground stopped and he felt the plane slip seamlessly into the air. He had never known such power; it was like driving a Grand Prix racing car having just stepped out of an ageing Morris and for a moment he felt as though the machine was completely running away with him.

As he continued to climb, he managed to collect his scattered wits, raised the undercarriage, made sure the temperatures and pressure were stabilized, and then turned the propeller to coarse pitch. Glancing backwards, he was astonished to see the airfield already far, far behind him. It was hard not to smile.

After cruising over the Lothians for a few minutes, however, David began to realize that his Spitfire was perhaps not quite as formidable as he had first thought during the first breathless moments, so with his confidence rising he decided to take the plane back for a bumps and circuit. This he managed without too much difficulty, touching back down and then promptly taking off again and feeling altogether more comfortable.

Climbing high into the clouds in this remarkable new toy he swirled and pirouetted through the early-summer sky, performing gentle dives that saw his air speed indicator rise to as much as 400 miles per hour. It was fabulously thrilling, a brief time of unbridled joy. As he was very quickly discovering, it did not take long to become accustomed to the Spitfire’s great power and speed, and once this adjustment had been made, it was an extraordinarily easy machine to fly and a quite superb aircraft for performing aerobatics.

After an hour he landed back at Drem, rolling the Spitfire across the grass to its dispersal around the perimeter. Having shut down the engine, he pushed back the canopy once more. He felt quite light-headed with exhilaration; his life irrevocably changed. ‘Practically everybody who has flown a Spitfire thinks it is the most marvellous aircraft ever built,’ he noted, ‘and I am no exception to the rule.’

Not for nothing was the RAF known as the best flying club in the world. By the beginning of the war, flying was still a comparatively new phenomenon, and those fortunate enough to get their chance to take to the air found largely empty skies in which the world seemed to be their oyster. For David, a 25-year-old sport-loving Yorkshireman, the Auxiliary Air Force had meant that he could work in the family sports goods manufacturing business in Huddersfield by week and fly at the weekend with lots of like-minded friends. Although being in the air force had, with the onset of war, become a full-time occupation, David was enjoying himself enormously, despite having to leave his young wife at home. At FTS he had made even more friends, was finding flying as rewarding and exhilarating as ever, and now, at the beginning of May, had finally been given the chance of a lifetime: to fly the already fabled Spitfire. The war – and the prospect of one day fighting for his life in a bitter aerial conflict – was barely given a thought.

THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN Copyright © James Holland 2010

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