Quote of the Day (Winston Churchill, on How Much Was ‘Owed by So Many to So Few’)

“The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the World War by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. All hearts go out to the fighter pilots, whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day; but we must never forget that all the time, night after night, month after month, our bomber squadrons travel far into Germany, find their targets in the darkness by the highest navigational skill, aim their attacks, often under the heaviest fire, often with serious loss, with deliberate careful discrimination, and inflict shattering blows upon the whole of the technical and war-making structure of the Nazi power. On no part of the Royal Air Force does the weight of the war fall more heavily than on the daylight bombers, who will play an invaluable part in the case of invasion and whose unflinching zeal it has been necessary in the meanwhile on numerous occasions to restrain.”—British Prime Minister Winston Churchill (1874-1965), “The Few” speech to the House of Commons, Aug. 20, 1940

In his early days as Prime Minister, Winston Churchill was intent on preparing his countrymen for immense sacrifice and on rallying them against the Nazi menace. Eighty years ago today, he reported, in detail and with the stirring words above, on how courageous British airmen had withstood the most serious assault ordered by Adolf Hitler to date.

With France out of the way, Hitler turned his attention in earnest to Britain. Assured by his designated successor, Luftwaffe founder Hermann Goering, that German airforce could overpower British’s in five weeks, he belied that a massive aerial attack would soften Britain up for a knockout blow by land and sea forces. The Luftwaffe began by targeting southern England, but on August 13, 1940 switched to raining punishing blows on British airfields and radio stations.

By “so few,” Churchill could have been referring not just to the Royal Air Force (RAF) compared with the whole population of Great Britain but also to its significant disadvantage against the Luftwaffe. Hitler could call on 1,260 long-range bombers, 320 dive bombers, 280 twin-engine fighters, and 800 single-engine fighters, versus only 900 fighters for the RAF.

From July 10 to October 12—the duration of the Battle of Britain—the British public watched the skies, dreaded the bombs that would eventually come their way, and prayed for the young men rushing to their planes to save them. The first two months were particularly intense for the airmen, wrote Supermarine Spitfire pilot Richard Hillary in his memoir of the battle, The Last Enemy (1942):

“[W]e were always so outnumbered that it was practically impossible, unless we were lucky enough to have the advantage of height, to deliver more than one Squadron attack. After a few seconds we always broke up, and the sky was a smoke trail of individual dog-fights. The result was that the Squadron would come home individually, machines landing one after the other at intervals of about two minutes. After an hour, Uncle George would make a check-up on who was missing. Often there would be a telephone call from some pilot to say that he had made a forced landing at some other airdrome, or in a field. But the telephone wasn’t always so welcome. It would be a rescue squad announcing the number of a crashed machine; then Uncle George would check it, and cross another name off the list. At that time, the losing of pilots was somehow extremely impersonal; nobody, I think, felt any great emotion — there simply wasn’t time for it.”

Like its foe, the RAF sustained heavy losses. Dark days remained, including The Blitz that lasted from September through the following March. But, through a combination of cool-headed British military and political leadership and adept use of radar—and Nazi underestimation of their foe and lack of military intelligence—the RAF prevailed, of course.

The Website of the Churchill Society London labels the speech I’ve excerpted here “The Few.” No other label is necessary to identify its contents, so well-known is the sentence that makes it among the Prime Minister’s most quoted utterances.

That sentence is not just a masterly exercise in political rhetoric but also in effective English, demonstrating in microcosm why Churchill would be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature 13 years later. It employs to perfection parallel construction—a series of phrases held together by similar words, phrases or grammatical structure. That common element is the word “so,” followed by a set of quantities—with the first two suggesting immensity (“much” and “many”), but the last providing an unexpected contrast conveying paucity (“the few”).

Oh, yes, one last thing: Churchill had a large ego (“All men are worms, but I do believe that I am a glow-worm,” he observed waggishly). But he knew when to step aside and pay tribute to others without drawing undue attention to himself.

His audience—both members of the House of Commons and the larger world who read his words reported afterward—knew exactly who he meant by “the few,” and it did not include himself. (And that is part of the reason why I chose to use a photo of the brave airmen rather than the great statesman who honored them.)

Certain contemporary world leaders might take note of that—and keep in mind that, for his heartfelt acknowledgment of others, Churchill has still managed to be remembered well by posterity.

(I wrote this post while listening to the stirring soundtrack of the 1969 film, The Battle of Britain. Do yourself a favor: When you feel down-heartened by the drumbeat of infuriating news this days, play this YouTube clip of this uplifting music.)