After three months of trying and failing to gain superiority in the air over England, on 15th September 1940, the Luftwaffe threw every last man and machine it had at us.
Goring was apoplectic that little England was standing up to Germany, refusing to surrender. If he could break the RAF’s spirit, if he could destroy enough of our pilots and airfields, he believed he could hand his Fuhrer our heads on a platter.
On 15th September, he launched 1120 aircraft at us, 620 fighters and 500 bombers. The summer skies over Kent were black with them.
Facing the swastika-clad horde that day were just over 600 Spitfires & Hurricanes and their brave young pilots, outnumbered two to one.
They fought like lions, for their Mums and their little sisters and their homes. Every fighter pilot killed that day took four of the enemy with him.
If they had not fought so hard, if they had been broken, Hitler could have - would have - mounted his final invasion of this country. With their lives, they bought us the chance to stay in the fight.
That’s why the Battle of Britain matters today, will always matter. We do indeed owe so, so much to those very, very Few.