Peacetime military flying provides only a fraction of the immense amount of aircraft repairs that can be expected in combat. The Munich crisis caused the RAF to prepare for war. Most urgently needed was a vehicle that could transport a fighter plane by road (wings removed and stowed alongside). A specification was issued for a suitable low-loading trailer, and a prototype—'Queen Mary'— was tested within ten days. Manufacturing started immediately. Such vehicles contributed greatly to the repair figures.

Also as a result of the Munich crisis of 1938, Lord Nuffield — the millionaire motor manufacturer and philanthropist — organized the Civilian Repair Organization. In May 1940 the CRO became responsible to the newly created Minister of Aircraft Production: an asthmatic newspaper tycoon who had in the First World War been given a peerage by Lloyd George for political services.

The controversial Lord Beaverbrook ran his Ministry as he ran his newspapers. Over his desk there was displayed the notice "Organization is the enemy of improvisation." He dismissed the suggestion that his role was to manufacture the aircraft that the Air Ministry wanted. Says his biographer, A. J. P. Taylor, "Beaverbrook decided what types of aircraft were produced and in what numbers. The Air Ministry had been pushed aside. It merely appointed the commanders and operated such strategy as Beaverbrook permitted."

Luckily for Fighter Command and for Britain, Beaverbrook took an instant liking to the taciturn Dowding. Both men had sons who were fighter pilots in the Battle. The views expressed by Dowding's enemies at the Air Ministry only confirmed Beaverbrook's opinion of the Air Ministry.

Beaverbrook claimed that all aircraft in RAF Storage Units should be under the control of his Ministry. While the Air Ministry argued bitterly that they were theirs, the 'Beaver' sent his men to padlock the hangars. Delighted with the shock he caused by this, he spread the story that he was going to store fighter aircraft in Winchester Cathedral.

Each evening, during the Battle of Britain, Beaverbrook received a call from his son — Squadron Leader the Honourable Maxwell Aitken — to be sure he was safe after the day's fighting. He also phoned Park, at 11 Group, to ask how many Spitfires and Hurricanes he needed: The next day the replacements were sent. The Air Ministry were given no chance to interfere: they were not consulted or even informed.

The rare quality that the British showed for merging civilian and military authority was nowhere more evident than in the CRO. Defying all precedents, the 'Beaver' cannibalized damaged aircraft to make one complete fighter out of two or three damaged ones. His men were sent to raid the RAF squadrons for spare parts and engines, which were delivered to the production lines. "Better a stringency in spares and a bountiful supply of aircraft than a surplus of spares and a shortage of aircraft," explained Beaverbrook.

He used businessmen — most of them specially commissioned and few of them paid — to sort out production problems and bottlenecks. Not many of them came from the aircraft industry, for as Beaverbrook reasoned, "industry is like theology. If you know the rudiments of one faith you can grasp the meaning of another."

Spitfire production lagged far behind that of Hurricanes. In 1938, Kingsley Wood — the Air Minister who had been so reluctant to bomb Krupps in Essen — had decided that it was better to give the new Spitfire contract to the Nuffield Organization rather than to Supermarine, the company that had created the Spitfire and was already manufacturing it.

The second Spitfire factory — or 'shadow factory', as it was called in the jargon of the time — was built at Castle Bromwich, Birmingham. It should have been well started on its contract for 1,500 Spitfires by January 1940, but by the time Beaverbrook took over on 14 May not one had been completed.

One of Beaverbrook's first actions was to phone Supermarine and tell them to take over the second factory. He told them to forget about plans to make Wellington and Halifax bombers there too. He wanted Spitfires. There were bitter protests, including some from Lord Nuffield, whose firm had been running the unsuccessful factory. He went to Churchill and tried to get Beaverbrook sacked. He failed, and by 6 June the first Spitfire was assembled and in the air. By the end of the month there were another nine. The numbers were small but this factory was farther away from the danger zone and from here came the slightly improved Spitfire II, with built-in armour, cartridge starters, and the higher-boost Merlin XII engine.

Some of Beaverbrook's decisions were more long-reaching than this. Henry Ford refused to support Britain's war effort and so would not build Rolls-Royce Merlin engines under licence in the USA. It was Beaverbrook who asked Packard to do so, and personally promised them enough money to enlarge their factory for that purpose. It was an audacious gesture, if not to say reckless, but Churchill backed Beaverbrook, and this decision not only guaranteed the supply of the finest (piston) aero-engine of the war but paved the way for building Merlin-powered Mustang fighters.

Another of Beaverbrook's enthusiasms was ferrying aircraft across the Atlantic. He did it without War Cabinet approval and despite the Air Ministry's contention that it was impractical. It proved very practical indeed. During the winter of 1940-41, 160 aircraft flew across the Atlantic.

Only one was lost. Characteristically, the Air Ministry discontinued the ferrying when Beaverbrook left office.

In the short term, it was through the Civilian Repair Organization that Beaverbrook contributed most to the Battle of Britain. No less than one third of all 'new' aircraft supplied to the fighter squadrons came from repair units. In addition, July saw the first use of his 'out-patients departments' to which fighter pilots, fresh from battle, flew their damaged machines for a while-you-wait service. Later Dowding said, "The country owes as much to Beaverbrook for the Battle of Britain as it does to me."

Neither the Air Fleet commanders nor Fighter Command had a clear picture of the damage that was being done to their respective enemies. The fighter pilots' claims were wildly exaggerated and the German propaganda service announced as losses only about half of the true German casualties. The RAF announced their own true losses but believed too readily their fighter pilots' claims. The fact that so much air fighting had taken place over the sea made it impossible for either side to verify claims. All Dowding could be sure about was that his July fighter aircraft losses totaled 145, and take comfort from the fact that this was only about a week's output from the factories. Aircraft supply had enabled Dowding to get his squadrons back to the normal establishment of 20 fighters plus 2 reserves (Dunkirk air fighting had forced Fighter Command to lower the squadrons to only 16 aircraft plus 2). And because Fighter Command had very nearly the 1,454 pilots that was its full establishment, Dowding raised the establishment to 1,588. This gave him an immediate deficiency on paper of 174 pilots. It also set a dangerous trap for historians assessing Fighter Command's losses during this period.

Loss in quality was far more difficult to assess. This was only a period of preliminary skirmishing, and already eighty flight commanders and squadron commanders had been knocked out of the Battle. As August began, only about half of Dowding's pilots had ever seen a German, let alone had combat experience. Even if the Training Units promptly replaced every casualty suffered, Fighter Command would continue to be diluted in quality. And the Luftwaffe's nuisance raiding by lone bombers was seriously restricting RAF flying training. So was the bad weather.