When I was a small boy my father gave me a set of cigarette cards. He had been in the RAF during the War and like all small boys in the 1960s I made Airfix Spitfires and watched movies such as Angels One Five on television. So I pored over the cigarette cards, read the potted squadron histories on the back and stuck them all into a scrapbook.
There was one card that puzzled me. It showed what I took to be a chicken. I knew all about chickens because my Great Aunt Hilda kept a few in her large rural garden. I just could not work out why any heroic RAF squadron would want a chicken as their official badge. It was a puzzle I could not solve. Years later I realised that what I had taken to be a chicken was a fighting cock – and a most worthy symbol it was for the squadron concerned. No.43 has long been one of the RAF’s premier squadrons, and its longevity is as impressive as its combat record.
from "No.43 Squadron"
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