Friday morning, 11th July ‘25 - The Landing Hotel, Biggin Hill….I wake up early to the most glorious day with butterflies in my stomach. Today is THE DAY!

After a speedy breakfast and the arrival of my eldest Jamie (OE 8396) after overnighting from Hong Kong, we drive over to the Heritage Hangers for the trip of a lifetime.

I am met by the sight of two Spitfires and Biggin Hill aerodrome in blazing sunshine.
“Have you been here before?” I’m asked.
“Yes, it was about 70 years ago. It was a Sunday and I was picking mushrooms on the aerodrome when my father literally buzzed me in a Spitfire!”

My father was stationed at Biggin and on Sundays from time to time I and a pal of mine used to go up onto the airfield to pick mushrooms for tea. It was a different time then and such behaviour was quite normal. Except that day, it turned out not to be, as my father was testing a recently refurbed Spitfire and thought he’d have a bit of fun at our expense. Having spotted us on the airfield, he swept down to “hedge trimming” level and flew straight at us! By the time he’d flashed over us in a crescendo of speed and noise from its Merlin engine, my friend and I were flat on our faces on the grass!  An amazing experience, which needless to say, was the subject of much humour at tea that evening and on many occasions since; whenever we had mushrooms on toast for tea.

On this occasion, 70 years later, thanks to a birthday present from Annie, my lovely, thoughtful wife, I was going to get the chance to, in some small way, emulate my father - in the same aircraft and one of a similar age and history. Who ever could have thought that would be possible? But here I was!

After a change into flying gear and a thorough briefing - mainly about what to do to get out!, I climbed into my Spitfire. My wife, son and step-daughter followed into a chase plane, in which they were going to fly beside me for some of the trip to take photos and videos. We would be flying for an hour.

Suitably strapped into my parachute behind Chief Pilot Barry Hughes, after a quick chat on the radio, there was an almighty roar and explosion of smoke and flames and our Merlin was alive!  We had a long taxi down to the end of the runway and in next to no time were off the ground, soaring away into a clear blue, brilliant sky. I was almost speechless!

Very soon, pilot Barry asked me if I wished to fly the aircraft and of course, my answer was “Yes!”  I asked him how many hands to hold the joy stick with and was surprised when he instructed me to use only my thumb and index finger. He had to tell me twice before I believed him and thereafter, I discovered what flying a Spitfire was really all about. I’ve flown other aircraft, but can honestly say this was a revelation. Turning to left or right, up or down required only the most minimal movement. Almost like, if you thought left, you moved left and so on. Quite extraordinary and one of the main reasons pilots loved flying the Spitfire so much. It was unlike other aircraft of its time.

After flying in “wing tip” formation with our chase plane, Chief Pilot Barry then took us away for some fun .... aerobatics.  And boy was it fun! We charged about the sky, swooping up and down and left and right, culminating in a “Victory Roll”. In fact, culminating in four Victory Rolls! Amazing!  Once sanity had been restored, I then took over again and we flew up the Medway passing over innumerable sites as we went. Not wishing it to end too soon, Barry suggested, “Shall be do a few more rolls to finish with?” Needless to say, we did a few more and then, having passed over Brands Hatch Circuit, we began our approach and landing back at Biggin.  “What an adventure!”

Having landed, son Jamie and I had a tour of the hangars, which are chock full of of Spitfires, a Hurricane, a Messerschmitt 109 and an American Mustang. After hearing we were from Guernsey, our guide took us away to another hangar in which stood a lone Spitfire.
“You’ll want a photo in front of that one”, he said. In response to our confusion, he added “That’s William Watling’s Spitfire. He’s a Guernseyman and went to the same school as you - Elizabeth College!” (1936-39).

Having been shot down and badly burned Watling (OE 4194) became one of the famous McIndoe’s “guinea pigs”, who had early plastic surgery and helped advance this new concept. His family lived at St Jacques, where I lived for most of my life, and although not born in Guernsey, he was very proud to become “a Guernseyman” and often spoke of it. At Elizabeth College he excelled in a wide variety of sports; sadly cut off in his prime in February 1941 aged 20, when he crashed into a Kent hillside in bad weather.

Small world eh!

I hope you enjoy this little story and the photographs which accompany it.

Andrew Chambers (OE 5546)