I just received a letter from Jane. She’s pregnant! My goodness! We haven’t seen much of each other this summer but it was obviously enough. I feel very proud that I’m going to be a father and of course it makes me even more aware of the need to stay alive: for my child as well as for Jane, and as well as for myself.

Frank Edwards, my faithful engineer, also asked me to be his best man the other day; he is going to marry one of the WAAFs based here. Some of the other pilots have been ribbing me about it, as Frank is a mechanic, but I told them that Frank is a decent chap and that I am very proud to be his best man. Without his help I might not be alive today.

Biggin Hill is back on its feet again as we’ve now had almost ten days without being bombed. Supplies have been brought in, telephone communications have been re-established and the aerodrome itself has been patched up. The place is still a mess, it’s true, with rubble lying everywhere and barely a building still standing, but it is fully operational.

We’re standing at readiness right now. Frank is sat on the grass next to my Hurricane, waiting for the signal. I’m with the other pilots, some in deckchairs, others lying on blankets laid out on the grass, about 100 yards from the planes. The weather is fine and Canary, the Intelligence Officer, is going around sniffing the air and saying that today’s going to be a big show. ‘I can smell it, chaps,’ he says.

The momentum has been with the Luftwaffe since at least the end of August but Canary says that they’ve made a crucial strategic error by starting to bomb London rather than continuing to break down the 11 Group airfields.

‘They’ve let us get back onto our feet, chaps,’ he is saying as I write this, ‘and now we can land a punch right on the kisser.’

Of course that sounds wonderful but after seeing the massed ranks of the Luftwaffe above London on September 7, I wonder whether it is possible for the RAF to inflict a ruinous defeat on them. The sheer numbers were simply overwhelming. Yet if all the squadrons available to us, not just in 11 Group but in 12 Group too, could co-ordinate an attack on the ponderous armada of slow bombers, then I’m sure we would cut them very deeply indeed.

I feel that I have done the right thing by staying here to fight anyhow, rather than going to Wales. If my son or daughter is born and I’m no longer here, then at least Jane will be able to say that I died in defence of the country and that I stood up for what I believed in. She will say that I did my duty and faced my fears.

Hold on! The telephone is ringing now. Canary is picking it up.

Tally-ho! Here we go!