IT IS incredible to think that this year marks the 80th anniversary of the outbreak of the Second World War.

In the relative peacetime of 2019 we reflect on the events that led to England’s declaration on September 3, 1939, and the six years of conflict that followed.

The home front, including here in Maldon, felt the effects in many different ways – loved ones going off to fight, some never to return (there are 86 names on our town war memorial), locals doing their bit in the Civil Defence Services, rationing, air raids (there were 14 fatalities in Maldon and Heybridge) and so much more besides.

An almost immediate and very tangible indication of war came in the form of enemy and allied aircraft in the skies above and the 106 that crashed in our district.

The RAF hurriedly established additional aerodromes across the country and on November 28, 1941, full Fighter Station status was granted to the upgraded airfield at nearby Bradwell.

RAF Bradwell Bay, as it became known, welcomed its first squadron, number 418 RCAF, on April 15, 1942.

They were flying Boston Mk.III aircraft, but Bradwell is best remembered for its Mosquitos.

The first unit to operate out of Bradwell with this type of aircraft was 23 Squadron.

A detachment arrived from RAF Manston in the early August of 1942 and full squadron strength was achieved by the 14th.

The commanding officer at that time was larger-than-life Wing-Commander Bertie Rex O’Bryen ‘Sammy’ Hoare (1912-1947).

He headed up a dedicated team of ground staff (including 3065 Servicing Echelon) and aircrew (pilots and navigators) who worked tirelessly to defend our homelands and carry out countless sorties against the enemy.

When they weren’t doing that, they understandably played hard, partying as the moment allowed.

And so in remembrance of those brave men and women and to reflect on what they and their contemporaries did for us, I decided to join a friend in a bit of time travel back to the days when 23 Squadron flew out of Bradwell.

We decided to make the journey from Maldon to the RAF Bradwell Bay of 1942 in style – in a two-seater sports-car so loved by the pilots of those days.

My friend has a replica Jaguar SS100 – the original was designed by William Lyons in 1935, just right for our purposes.

We imagined that we were pilot and navigator who had been to a dance in the hall attached to the back of the Swan, had slept there overnight and now, the following morning, were in danger of over-staying our leave.

It was time to rush back to the airfield and so as the 4.2 XK Straight 6 burst into action (it would have originally been a 2.5 Standard) we drove out of the hotel car park and turned left into High Street.

We soon passed by the Embassy cinema where, only a few weeks earlier, we had seen Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon in Mrs Miniver.

Passing the Promenade Park with its British Restaurant we headed out to the Dengie, travelling through Mundon, Latchingdon and the winding coast road that snakes its way via Mayland, Steeple and St Lawrence.

At Bradwell we were stopped at the checkpoint at the Queen’s Head pub.

The guard knew us well enough, but he still looked at our papers and bid us good morning, adding that we had “Cut it a bit fine, Sirs”.

We turned off the B1021on to Maldon Road, passing the Police House and into South Street.

Suddenly the place was a hive of activity.

We drove through the Airmen’s Quarters of Number 4 Site, glanced at Bradwell Lodge, our usual mess and quarters, but no time to stop, then one of our watering holes, the King’s Head – opposite St Thomas’s church, Tudor Hall, WAAF quarters (off bounds!) and up to the airfield access road at Down Hall (further officers’ quarters).

As we turned right on to the perimeter track and the open and windy expanse of the aerodrome, that unsettled feeling suddenly manifested itself in the pit of my stomach.

Passing the end of runway number 2, there ahead of us were two Mosquitos parked on the hardstanding – DD671 and DD797.

We pulled into the car park next to the control tower (aka watch office) and staring down at us from the balcony was a rather cross-looking Sammy Hoare, annoyed at being distracted from his game of backgammon with an ‘erk’.

“You’re late” he barked. “Be ready to fly in 15 minutes or else”.

But then suddenly he disappeared into the mists of time.

The control tower looked slightly different with an extra section on top.

The aircraft, personnel and most of the buildings had gone.

It was 2019 and as we relaxed and decided to head home to Maldon we noticed something that wasn’t there earlier on – a memorial consisting of a crashed Mosquito and the names of those who “in answer to the call of duty left this airfield to fly into the blue forever”.

Mosquito DD671 overshot the runway and burst into flames on Wednesday, September 23, 1942. Thankfully the crew survived on that occasion, but among the names on the memorial are 23 Squadron Sergeants Cridge and Hutt, killed on November 26, 1942, when DD797 crashed at West Mersea.

As we reflected on their sacrifice, my mind drifted back to 1978 when I had met veterans and serving members of 23 Squadron at a Bradwell reunion.

Then to 1994 when I had sat in a 23 Squadron Tornado on the flight line while a guest at RAF Leeming, North Yorkshire. The squadron was disbanded soon after that and today its colours hang still, gathering dust in Ripon Cathedral.

It was a black day for the ‘Red Eagles’, but as far as I am concerned they will forever be on duty with their Mosquitos at Bradwell and, in the words of their motto ‘Semper Aggressus’ – ‘always on the attack’.