Well out over the Channel, we get our first glimpse of the shipping we have come here to protect...



...and soon after, begin the patrol itself.



Behind me, Red 3 comes rather close during the turns, but manages to avoid running into me.



I'm generally making left turns, so life is a bit easier for Red 2, provided I don't go full tilt.

Calls to the controller reveal no sign of Huns, so I get a bit of a shock when I suddenly notice a bunch of aircraft flying in the opposite direction, a couple of miles out to my left.



Off we go! I select full power and go for them. Huns I reckon, intent on attacking the ships, or perhaps a fighter sweep.



But no - as I get closer, I can see that they are Spitfires like our own. I'm tempted to close with them and find out who they are, but they turn right and away, and I let them go.



In my excitement, I've pulled away from the boys a bit, so slow down to let then regain formation.



By this time, our briefed minimum time on patrol is long passed and as it looks like our relief is on station, I lead the flight home.



A look at the gauges shows the top tank is nearly empty, but the bottom one is still full. A final check with the Controller confirms the skies are clear of Huns so I feel it's safe enough to continue back to Tangmere.



I let down over the sea as we near the coast, with the shadows of the clouds dappling the steely blue waters of the English Channel.



Brighton comes up on our right as we fly along just offshore.



Cutting diagonally inland, I can soon see Tangmere up ahead.



This time, instead of just putting down myself, I decide to try out WotR's flight commands and as I reach the airfield, I give the order to land. The boys promptly peel off to the right, leaving me time and space to make my own circuit.



As far as I know, flying control at fighter bases of this early period tended to consist of an officer with a Very pistol and a supply of 'reds', housed in a hut or caravan. None of this modern ATC stuff. Keeping a look-out for traffic, I'm soon settling into a curved approach to the runway I took off from about an hour earlier.



Once safely down, I taxi onto the perimeter track, into one of the dispersal points, and swing her around deftly so that I'm facing back out. I switch off and hear the distant hum of aero engines, as the flight makes its own circuit. Soon, the first two - probably my own Red 2 and 3 - are dropping onto the ground and rolling to a halt behind me.



An uneventful first trip it's been, apart from the excitement provided by the unexpected arrival of those other Spits. But I'm always quite happy for a gentle start, and to bring everybody safe home. There'll be plenty of time later for the heroics, I have the feeling.