'Never before in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so
many to so few.'
Winston Churchill 1940

The siren scrambles the spitfire squadron
Young pilots mostly in their teens
Rush to clamber into cockpits
Engines roar, and planes race down the runway
Rising skyward in battle formation.

Fear grips and some pilots want to vomit
Flying upwards they seek advantage of height
Above the slow droning German bombers
Targeting England's cities and ports
Guarded by darting M109 Messerschmitt fighters.

' Here we go, ' radios an Aussie squadron leader
' Let's give the blighters hell.'
And out of the sun with cannons roaring
Spitfires attack like deadly hawks
Twisting and turning as the savage dogfight ensues.

Sergeant-pilot Peter Duncan trapped
Tries frantically to free his jammed cockpit cover
But flames engulf him - - melting hands and face
The spitfire spirals to the ground
Exploding in a fireball ending the sergeant's suffering.

Colin Ian Jeffery

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/battle-of-britain/