Readiness At Dawn

Paul Farnes by David Pritchard

The following poem was written in the dispersal hut at Kenley in October 1940 by Wing Commander Paul Farnes, DFM, who was a sergeant pilot at the time with No. 501 Squadron during the Battle of Britain. 

Readiness At Dawn

 By Paul Farnes

Night has shed its heavy cloak

And the stars ‘ere put to flight.

The dawn is gently breaking

With a pale and misty light.

But we got up some time ago

To herald in the morn,

For our orders of the night before

Said ‘Readiness at Dawn’.

We go round to our aircraft

To see they’re in good state,

And then there’s nothing left to do

But settle down and wait.

When we’re sitting round dispersal

To do battle in the sky

I often stop to wonder

If today someone will die.

It may be Bob it may be Bill

It may be Morf or Mac

Because as like as not this day

Someone won’t come back.

Some types are reading letters

And some are playing crap

Some are sitting thinking

Some quietly take a nap.

Suddenly the ‘phone rings,

It’s the operations line

And every man is on his feet

And the same thought’s in each mind.

The order comes to ‘Scramble’

The engines start as one

We rush out to our aircraft

And the battle has begun.

The squadron soon is airborne

And straight away begins the climb,

For height’s the first and foremost thought

In every pilot’s mind.

Tail-end-Charlie starts his weaving

To guard our tails and watch the sun,

For she makes a natural cover

For every skulking Hun.

Ground station calls the Leader

And says “There’s ninety plus

And they’re heading straight for Dover,”

So they’re heading straight for us.

Someone switches on his set

And the thought’s in each chap’s mind

That a warnings going to follow

So each man looks behind.

It’s Harry who is calling

He’s having trouble with his hood,

He says “I’ll have to break away,

Is my message understood?”

 We’re now at thirty thousand

And it won’t be very long

Before we start the battle

In which Mac won his ‘gong’.

The R/T crackles once again

And there’s a shout of “Tally-Ho,

They’re on our left at ten o’clock,

Come on chaps, lets go!”

The C.O. starts a gentle turn

To bring us on their beam,

But we’ve got to dive through Messerschmitts

That give the bombers fighter screen.

We dive down through the cover

But there are more up higher still

Just waiting till we turn our tails

Before they try to kill.

But the Spitfires up above us

The Hun has yet to face,

And soon there’ll be a battle royal

In this great barren space.

The fight is soon at fever pitch,

It’s each man on his own

And deeds of courage are performed

Of which nothing will be known.

On the ground down far below us

Our Mothers’ younger sons

Are watching us with envy

As they listen to the guns.

But if our prayers be answered

And God grant that they will,

When they’ve only just reached manhood

They won’t have to learn to kill.

The fight is nearly over now

The Hun has turned away

And those of us who’re lucky,

Live to fight another day.

The ground crews on the tarmac

Watch our return with anxious heart

And find that three have not come back

Who went up at the start.

It’s Hughie, Bob and Johnny

Who’re missing from the show,

But they may have baled out somewhere

And be trying to let us know.

Bob rings up sometime later

To tell us he’s O.K.

He baled out over Tunbridge

But that is all he’ll say.

The news of Hugh and Johnny

Came through to us next day,

They’d crashed in flames near Dover;

There’s not much one can say.

But someone takes a long drawn breath

And with unsteady voice

Says “If they’d known they had to go

It would have been their choice.

To die fighting for their country

Against the bloody Hun

In order that some other folk

May wander in the sun.

And when we sit around again

To go up and fight once more

My thoughts oft times stray far away

To my home before the war.

And when I think of peace in England

And all it means to me

Moisture dims my weary eyes

And I find it hard to see.

Copyright Paul Farnes (Used here with his permission)