Richard Westcott
Charter Member 2011
An extract form Freedoms Battle Vol 2: The War in the Air 1939-1945.
The Auxiliary Squadrons - pilots who had trained at weekends and summer camps - were immediately called to full operational status. Among them was 602 County of London Squadron, reputedly comprised almost entirely of millionaires. Their squadron historian describes how they faced the rigours of war at Biggin Hill.
Biggin was more businesslike than the year before-the camouflage had been rectified, communications improved, security tightened up and the aircraft mad capable of shooting. Since, however, the Blenheims had no armour plating, Whitney-Straight ordered some amoured seats on his own account from the Wilkinson Sword Company and had them installed in the machines. Some armour plating which had he obtained from Bristols, which proved on trails to be too heavy, had to be taken out again.
Many officers were using motor cycles for petrol economy, and when it was heard that petrol rationing would take effect within the next few days the squadron came closer to the brink of panic than it had ever been. Thynne called a hurried meeting of the 'soviet' at which it was decided to stockpile fuel. First they had to get some. Willie Rhodes-Moorehouse was appointed petrol officer, relieved of all other duties and told not to come back without results. The next morning he was back at the aerodrome.
'Well' said Thyme. 'How much fuel have you got?'
'Almost enough to last the war'
'What you done?'
'I've bought a garage'
The owner of the filling station had been glad to sell. The road it was in, which ran through the camp, had been closed a few days before, and Rhodes-Moorehouse had drawn a cheque on the spot. But the tanks were only half full and his estimate sounded a little optimistic, so the 'soviet' convened again to discuss the problem.
A light slowly dawned in Loel Guinness's eye.
'I am not sure,' he said hesitantly, 'but I think I'm a director of Shell.'
'What do you mean, you think you are?' snapped Thynne.
'Telephone you secretary and find out!'
Guinness's secretary confirmed he was on the board of a Shell subsidiary, and within the days the tanks of the garage were brimfull, a matter of hours before the enforcement of rationing.
It made me smile anyway.
The Auxiliary Squadrons - pilots who had trained at weekends and summer camps - were immediately called to full operational status. Among them was 602 County of London Squadron, reputedly comprised almost entirely of millionaires. Their squadron historian describes how they faced the rigours of war at Biggin Hill.
Biggin was more businesslike than the year before-the camouflage had been rectified, communications improved, security tightened up and the aircraft mad capable of shooting. Since, however, the Blenheims had no armour plating, Whitney-Straight ordered some amoured seats on his own account from the Wilkinson Sword Company and had them installed in the machines. Some armour plating which had he obtained from Bristols, which proved on trails to be too heavy, had to be taken out again.
Many officers were using motor cycles for petrol economy, and when it was heard that petrol rationing would take effect within the next few days the squadron came closer to the brink of panic than it had ever been. Thynne called a hurried meeting of the 'soviet' at which it was decided to stockpile fuel. First they had to get some. Willie Rhodes-Moorehouse was appointed petrol officer, relieved of all other duties and told not to come back without results. The next morning he was back at the aerodrome.
'Well' said Thyme. 'How much fuel have you got?'
'Almost enough to last the war'
'What you done?'
'I've bought a garage'
The owner of the filling station had been glad to sell. The road it was in, which ran through the camp, had been closed a few days before, and Rhodes-Moorehouse had drawn a cheque on the spot. But the tanks were only half full and his estimate sounded a little optimistic, so the 'soviet' convened again to discuss the problem.
A light slowly dawned in Loel Guinness's eye.
'I am not sure,' he said hesitantly, 'but I think I'm a director of Shell.'
'What do you mean, you think you are?' snapped Thynne.
'Telephone you secretary and find out!'
Guinness's secretary confirmed he was on the board of a Shell subsidiary, and within the days the tanks of the garage were brimfull, a matter of hours before the enforcement of rationing.
It made me smile anyway.
