When one thinks of the great aerial powers of the Second World War, Belgium rarely vaults to the front of the mental runway. No offence intended, of course. This plucky kingdom, famed more for its chocolates, beer, and bafflingly complex politics, did indeed have an air force in 1940—and not just a theoretical one either. Though perhaps more modest than mighty, it was staffed by brave souls who took to the skies with a stiff upper lip and aircraft that sometimes felt more suited to barnstorming than Blitzkrieg.
To say the Belgian Air Force was up against it would be like saying the Titanic had a slight issue with the nature of ice. The Luftwaffe descended upon poor Belgium with all the subtlety of a falling wardrobe, and our friends sans waffles were left to face them with a mixed bag of aircraft, many of which might have been more at home in a museum—had museums been open and not, you know, being bombed at the time. Nevertheless, with a fine combination of daring, determination, and what can only be described as sheer nerve, Belgian pilots had a jolly good crack at it.
In this post, we shall have a rummage through their hangars, so to speak. We'll cast an eye over the aircraft themselves—some homegrown, others borrowed, begged, or bought from abroad. We'll consider their tactics (such as they were), and examine how a small air force, tucked awkwardly between two larger, louder neighbours, tried to stand its ground when things got frightfully unpleasant in May 1940.
So do join me, dear reader, as we unfurl the tricolour, tighten our goggles, and dive headlong into the story of Belgium’s gallant if underdogged effort to defend its skies. It’s a tale of heroism, outdated machinery, and a certain admirable refusal to simply roll over and let the Luftwaffe have all the fun. Strap in—it may be a bit of a bumpy ride.
Section 2: Tea, Tactics, and Tinfoil Wings: Belgium's Pre-War Preparations
Though modern Belgians might be forgiven for regarding military aviation as something best left to NATO or the French, the roots of their air force stretch back to the heady days of canvas, courage, and conspicuously large moustaches. In fact, Belgium was one of the earliest adopters of military aviation, forming an aerial corps as early as 1909—back when flying machines were considered only slightly more reliable than séances. This forward-thinking attitude gave Belgium a brief head start before being very rudely flattened in World War I.
Following the Great War (and after the Belgians had recovered from having their entire country used as a shortcut), the aviation arm of the military was slowly reconstituted. By the mid-1920s, it had earned the grand-sounding title of Aéronautique Militaire, though its equipment remained rather less grand, much like its every day tag line of Luchtcomponent. Think less “Cutting-edge air force” and more “Second-hand catalogue, slightly damp.” Funding, as always, was something of an issue, and enthusiasm in the government waxed and waned depending on who’d most recently had tea with the French.
The Belgian government, finding itself in the rather awkward geographical position of being the doormat between France and Germany's front doors, decided in the 1930s that neutrality might be the best way forward—a noble if ultimately optimistic plan. With this neutrality came a certain hesitation to do anything too provocative, such as acquiring effective bombers, or—Heaven forbid—more than a dozen serviceable fighters. Belgian military planners thus found themselves tasked with defending the skies without appearing to threaten anyone, a bit like guarding your house by installing very polite hedgehogs.
Nonetheless, there were genuine efforts to modernise. By the late 1930s, the Belgians began to purchase more up-to-date aircraft—some home-grown, like the Renard R.31 (a reconnaissance aircraft that looked like it had forgotten a wing), and some foreign imports such as the British-built Fairey Fox and Battle. The latter was a light bomber that might have had a better chance against the Luftwaffe had it been somewhere (or something) else. In 1940, it was roughly as stealthy and survivable as a cow on a bicycle.
Organisationally, the air force was split into three primary regiments, covering fighter, reconnaissance, and bomber duties. These were not sprawling commands with thousands of aircraft, but more like tightly managed flying clubs with military aspirations. Pilots were well-trained and impressively dedicated, though many were hampered by mechanical shortcomings, chronic underfunding, and an abundance of aircraft that wouldn’t look out of place on a weather vane.
To their credit, the Belgians did not sit entirely idle as war clouds gathered over Europe. They improved airfields, scrambled for newer kit, and tried valiantly to prepare for the possibility that someone, somewhere, might not respect their neutrality. Alas, when Germany came calling in May 1940, they did not knock. And thus, the Belgian Air Force, though small and under-equipped, found itself thrust into the thick of it—outnumbered, outgunned, but rarely entirely outclassed.
Section 3: Scramble! The Belgian Air Force Has a Go (For Real This Time)
May 10, 1940, dawned bleakly over Belgium, but with an air of deceptive calm. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when the all-too-familiar drone of German reconnaissance aircraft pierced the stillness. For the Belgian Air Force—numbering barely a few hundred operational aircraft scattered over a smattering of airfields—the day that had long been feared had arrived. With little warning and fewer resources, pilots and ground crews scrambled to their posts, hearts pounding as the Luftwaffe’s thundercloud of planes darkened the skies.
In 1940, the Belgian fighter force was small but spirited, mostly equipped with Gloster Gladiators—biplanes that, whilst outdated compared to German fighters, were flown with fierce determination. They also operated the Fairey Fox, a light bomber capable of limited fighter duties, and a handful of Hawker Hurricanes Mk.Is which arrived just before the invasion but saw very limited action.
Despite being outnumbered and outclassed technologically, Belgian fighter pilots earned admiration for their skill and bravery.
One standout was Lieutenant Henri Demarest, who flew Gladiators during the early days of the invasion. On May 10th, he engaged in several dogfights near Antwerp, reportedly shooting down a German Dornier Do 17 bomber before his aircraft was damaged, forcing a crash landing. His cool-headedness under fire and relentless spirit exemplified the Belgian pilot’s determination.
The First Clash: 2nd Fighter Squadron’s Gladiators Meet the Luftwaffe
The 2nd Fighter Squadron, equipped with Gloster Gladiators, biplanes that looked as if they had hopped straight from the late 1920s into 1940, were perhaps the most vulnerable yet valiant defenders of the Belgian skies. The Gladiators, with cockpits left open and fixed landing gear, were an anachronism in the face of the sleek, deadly Messerschmitt Bf 109s and Bf 110s that the Germans fielded.
Lieutenant Charles Denis—known among his comrades as “Charlie” and famous for a grin that could probably have disarmed the Luftwaffe itself—was the first to climb into the chilly air. Flying out of the Evere airfield near Brussels, Denis and his wingman took to the skies at 06:15 to intercept a German bomber formation heading for Antwerp.
The engagement was frantic and desperate. The Dornier Do-17 bombers, escorted by swarms of fighters, swooped low over the flat Belgian countryside. Charlie, manoeuvring his Gladiator with a mix of skill and sheer pluck, found himself in a head-to-head with a Messerschmitt. Bullets ripped through his wing, and yet, with the agility only a biplane could manage, he managed to tail a Dornier long enough to fire a burst that sent one bomber spiralling earthward.
“One for the Waffles!” crackled his radio, a victorious cry that lifted spirits back at the base. That morning’s encounter set the tone: the Belgian pilots might be flying machines from a bygone era, but their spirit was as fierce as any eagle’s.
Another notable pilot was Adjudant Pierre Arend, who flew Gladiators out of Evere Air Base. On May 11th, Arend and his comrades intercepted waves of German Ju 87 Stuka dive bombers attacking Belgian ground forces. Although heavily outgunned and outnumbered, their dogfights disrupted the German attacks, allowing Belgian troops crucial breathing space.
The Belgian Air Force acquired a small number of Hawker Hurricane Mk.I fighters, primarily for their 2/I/2Aé squadron, also known as "Chardon". These Hurricanes saw action during the German invasion of Belgium in May 1940. Sadly, most were lost during the initial Luftwaffe attacks on May 10th and subsequent strafing of Beauvechain. Only three of the operational Hurricanes managed to escape the initial attacks, but they were also destroyed in the subsequent strafing of Beauvechain.
Throughout the campaign, Belgian fighter squadrons were plagued by logistical shortages—fuel, spare parts, and armaments were in short supply—and frequently had to relocate airfields to avoid bombardment. Pilots often flew multiple sorties a day with little rest, forging tight bonds forged in the furnace of war.
Many who survived went on to join Allied air forces, notably the Royal Air Force, where their experience would become invaluable in the struggle to liberate Europe.
Reconnaissance with a Side of Bravery: The Renard R.31’s Grim Task
While the fighters danced nervously with Messerschmitts above, the reconnaissance squadrons were charged with the far less glamorous but absolutely crucial job of spying on the advancing enemy columns below. Flying the somewhat ponderous Renard R.31, a single-seat monoplane that looked as if it had been designed with aerodynamics as an afterthought, these pilots had to brave enemy fire, unpredictable weather, and mechanical quirks that often threatened to ground them before takeoff.
The R.31 was not built for speed or agility—more like a slow-moving, vulnerable hawk circling over the fields, snapping aerial photographs and radioing back information on troop movements and artillery placements. Flying low to the ground to get a clear view made the pilots prime targets for anti-aircraft fire and Luftwaffe fighters, but retreat was rarely an option. Their reconnaissance was the eyes of the Belgian Army, and without their reports, the infantry and armour would have been blind.
One such mission on May 11th saw a Belgian R.31 pilot, Lieutenant Marcel Duvivier, skimming the tree line near the Ardennes. Despite being repeatedly harried by German flak and barely dodging an attacking Messerschmitt, Duvivier managed to capture crucial photos showing the concentration of Panzer units massing for the coming assault. His ability to keep the plane steady under fire and return safely with the intelligence proved invaluable to the Belgian command’s desperate attempts at planning counter-moves.
Reconnaissance sorties were long, tedious, and frequently nerve-wracking affairs that lacked the glamour of dogfights but demanded equal amounts of courage. The bravery of these pilots, staring down death in their fragile aircraft, often went unnoticed, but without them, Belgium’s defenders would have been flying quite literally blind.
The Tragic Heroism of the 1st Bomber Squadron
The backbone of Belgium’s offensive air efforts in 1940 rested largely on its 1st Bomber Squadron, equipped mainly with the Fairey Battle light bomber and the home-grown Renard R.31 reconnaissance-bomber hybrid. Though not built for the rigours of modern war, these aircraft were entrusted with the daunting task of striking at German troop concentrations and supply lines during the frantic opening days of the invasion.
The Fairey Battle, in particular, was a slow and lightly armed aircraft, increasingly obsolete by 1940 standards. When the German blitzkrieg thundered across the Belgian countryside, these bombers were ordered into perilous missions against advancing armored columns and airfields, fully aware of the deadly flak and fighter opposition awaiting them.
One of the most harrowing missions took place near Gembloux in mid-May, where bomber formations flew repeated sorties attempting to disrupt the Wehrmacht’s rapid advance. The courage of the crews was unquestionable; many missions ended with aircraft shot down or heavily damaged. Despite the losses, their efforts slowed German progress just enough to allow Belgian and Allied ground forces precious moments to reorganize defenses.
Unfortunately, detailed records of individual bomber pilots are scarce, partly due to the rapid collapse and subsequent occupation. However, the bravery of these crews, flying vulnerable aircraft into the teeth of enemy fire, remains a testament to their dedication. Their sacrifice—often flying under dire odds with inadequate equipment—embodied the spirit of a small nation fighting desperately against overwhelming force.
Conclusion:
In the grand tapestry of 1940’s aerial theatre, the Belgian Airforce may not have boasted the sheer numbers or the high-flying glamour of its larger neighbours, but what it lacked in quantity it made up for with a spirited dash of pluck and perseverance. Despite being rather caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place — surrounded by the Blitzkrieg’s thunderous advance — these brave aviators took to the skies with a stiff upper lip, the manner of which a lone British colonial officer standing firm with his resolute punkah would be proud to call his own and a determination that would have made any tea-loving Brit proud. Their efforts, though often overshadowed by more headline-grabbing squadrons, remain a testament to the tenacity and courage of a small nation standing tall against the storm.
Though the campaign was brief and fraught with challenge, the Belgian pilots and ground crews demonstrated that true mettle is measured not in fleet size but in the sheer grit of those who dare to defend their homeland. Their aerial escapades, marked by moments of gallantry and quick-thinking, laid a foundation of honour and remembrance that would echo long after the last engine had sputtered to a halt. In short, the Belgian Airforce of 1940 was a small but stubborn thorn in the side of the Axis, proving that sometimes it’s the underdog with the boldest spirit that leaves the most lasting impression.
Section 4: Steel, Sweat, and Skies: The Planes That Took Flight for Belgium in 1940
Before we tip our hats and bid farewell to these gallant flyers, it’s only proper to take a gander at the trusty flying machines that carried them into battle. From nimble fighters to sturdy reconnaissance planes, the Belgian Airforce’s fleet was a curious blend of homegrown and imported craft — each with its own quirks, charms, and occasionally temperamental engines. Without further ado, let us dive into the splendid array of aircraft that powered Belgium’s aerial defence in 1940, the very steel steeds that bore the brunt of the skies’ tempest.
Renard R-31
The Renard R-31 was a Belgian-designed reconnaissance parasol monoplane, quite distinctive with its high-wing configuration and fixed undercarriage. Introduced in the early 1930s, it was already somewhat outdated by 1940, but the Belgian Air Force still relied on it heavily for reconnaissance and army cooperation duties. Powered by a Hispano-Suiza 12Y engine, it could reach speeds of around 210 km/h (130 mph), which was far from speedy by 1940 standards, making it extremely vulnerable to enemy fighters.
In service with the Aéronautique Militaire, the R-31 was mainly tasked with low-altitude reconnaissance missions, often flying perilously close to the front lines to gather intelligence on German troop movements during the early days of the invasion. Despite its sluggishness and lack of armament—typically just a single machine gun for self-defence—pilots demonstrated great bravery flying these slow, vulnerable aircraft in the face of Luftwaffe fighters and ground fire. Its sturdiness and stable flight characteristics were virtues appreciated by crews, especially when dodging flak.
The aircraft’s limited speed and lack of manoeuvrability, however, meant many R-31s were lost during reconnaissance sorties in May 1940. Several crews successfully returned with valuable intelligence that aided Belgian ground operations, but the aircraft’s vulnerabilities became painfully clear under combat conditions. By the campaign’s end, surviving R-31s were either destroyed or captured, marking the end of its operational role.
Despite its limitations, the Renard R-31 remains an emblem of Belgian aviation ingenuity in the interwar period and a testament to the courage of its pilots, who flew these relics on near-suicidal missions during the darkest days of the Battle of Belgium.
Brewster 339B 'Buffalo'
The Brewster 339B Buffalo was a modern monoplane fighter acquired by Belgium just before the outbreak of World War II. Originally designed in the United States, the Buffalo had mixed reviews worldwide but was valued by the Belgians for its ruggedness and relatively good firepower. Powered by a Wright R-1820 radial engine, it could reach speeds of approximately 520 km/h (323 mph) and was armed with four .50 calibre machine guns.
Belgium received only a small batch of these fighters in early 1940—too late and too few to alter the air balance significantly. The Belgian Air Force employed the Buffalo primarily in fighter interception roles, aiming to counter the Luftwaffe’s more numerous and often faster aircraft. Pilots appreciated its stability and armament, though it struggled against the superior speed and manoeuvrability of the German Bf 109s.
During the Battle of Belgium, Brewster Buffaloes flew numerous combat sorties, engaging enemy bombers and fighters alike. Despite their efforts, the limited number and lack of experienced crews restricted their impact. Some Buffalos were lost to enemy action or accidents, but the aircraft demonstrated a level of rugged resilience, surviving tough conditions better than some contemporaries.
Although the Buffalo never became a legendary fighter, in Belgian service it represented a valiant last-ditch effort to modernize an air force desperately outpaced by the rapid advances in aviation technology that marked 1940’s skies.
Fairey Battle Mk.1
The Fairey Battle Mk.1 was a British single-engine light bomber adopted by the Belgian Air Force in the late 1930s. Powered by a Rolls-Royce Merlin engine, the Battle was capable of about 340 mph (550 km/h) and armed with a forward-firing machine gun and a rear gunner for defence, alongside a bomb load of up to 1,000 pounds (450 kg). Though it was a modern design at the time of adoption, by 1940 it was increasingly vulnerable to fighter interception.
In Belgian service, the Fairey Battle formed the core of the 1st Bomber Squadron’s offensive power. Belgian crews flew desperate bombing raids against German ground forces during the invasion, often facing well-prepared anti-aircraft defences and aggressive Luftwaffe fighters. The slow speed and light defensive armament of the Battle made these missions exceptionally perilous, leading to heavy losses.
Despite this, Belgian Fairey Battle crews demonstrated remarkable courage and determination. They took to the skies repeatedly in attempts to slow the German advance, focusing on attacking armoured columns, bridges, and troop concentrations. While their missions sometimes achieved tactical successes, the high attrition rates and inability to effectively defend themselves underscored the Battle’s limitations.
By the campaign’s end, most of the Fairey Battles in Belgian service had been destroyed or abandoned. Nevertheless, their crews’ bravery in the face of overwhelming odds left a lasting impression, and several survivors would later serve with Allied forces throughout the war.
Fairey Fox 3c
The Fairey Fox 3c was a variant of the Fairey Fox light bomber and reconnaissance aircraft, originally a British design but licensed and produced in Belgium in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Though relatively antiquated by 1940, the Fox 3c remained in service primarily for reconnaissance and light bombing roles within the Belgian Air Force. It featured a Rolls-Royce Kestrel engine, enabling speeds up to around 280 km/h (175 mph).
Belgian units used the Fairey Fox 3c mostly for training and secondary reconnaissance duties during the early phases of the campaign, with some aircraft still seeing frontline use during the 18 Day War due to the lack of newer replacements. Its relatively low speed and limited defensive armament made it vulnerable in contested airspace, but it proved reliable and easy to maintain.
During the German invasion, Fairey Fox 3c crews conducted reconnaissance flights and light bombing raids aimed at delaying the enemy’s advance. While their impact was limited by the aircraft’s age and capabilities, these missions contributed to Belgium’s broader defensive efforts by providing intelligence and modest firepower where available.
After the collapse of Belgian resistance, most Fairey Fox 3c aircraft were destroyed or captured. Though overshadowed by more modern aircraft, the Fox 3c played a quietly important role in sustaining Belgian air operations during this time of crisis.
Fiat CR.42 Falco
The Fiat CR.42 Falco was an Italian-built biplane fighter known for its excellent manoeuvrability and robust construction. Powered by a Fiat A.74 radial engine, it could reach speeds of around 440 km/h (273 mph) and was armed with two 12.7 mm Breda-SAFAT machine guns. Though it was one of the last biplane fighters in service by 1940, the CR.42 remained competitive in some theatres due to its agility.
Belgium acquired a small number of Fiat CR.42s in the late 1930s as part of efforts to modernise its fighter force. They operated alongside the Gloster Gladiators and Brewster Buffaloes, primarily serving with fighter squadrons tasked with home defence. The CR.42’s excellent handling characteristics made it popular with Belgian pilots despite its biplane configuration.
During the German invasion, CR.42s saw combat defending Belgian airspace against Luftwaffe bombers and fighters. While slower than the Bf 109s they faced, the Falco’s nimbleness allowed skilled pilots to make effective attacks, especially in dogfights at lower altitudes. The aircraft suffered losses due to both combat and operational challenges, but Belgian pilots praised its responsiveness.
Ultimately, the CR.42 was no match for the modern monoplane fighters dominating the skies in 1940, but in Belgian hands, it filled a vital role as a sturdy and manoeuvrable defender during the desperate Battle of Belgium.
Gloster Gladiator Mk.1
The Gloster Gladiator Mk.1 was a British-built biplane fighter and the last of its kind to serve as a frontline fighter in the RAF during World War II. Powered by a Bristol Mercury radial engine producing about 840 hp, it could reach speeds of roughly 414 km/h (257 mph). Armed with four .303 machine guns, it was considered obsolete by 1940 but still capable in the hands of skilled pilots.
Belgium operated a fleet of Gladiator Mk.1 fighters, which formed the backbone of its fighter squadrons during the 1940 invasion. These aircraft were scattered across various airfields and were among the first to respond to Luftwaffe attacks on May 10th. The Gladiators’ manoeuvrability and reliability made them suitable for Belgium’s limited air defence needs, despite being outmatched in speed and firepower by German Bf 109s.
Belgian pilots flying Gladiators engaged in numerous dogfights throughout the campaign. Their efforts, though ultimately unable to prevent German air superiority, inflicted losses on the enemy and disrupted bombing raids. The aircraft’s open cockpits and rugged construction gave crews some advantage in visibility and survivability, which was appreciated during chaotic engagements.
By the end of the campaign, most Gladiators had been destroyed, damaged, or captured, but their pilots’ gallantry flying these outdated machines remains a poignant chapter in Belgian aviation history.
Hawker Hurricane Mk.I
When Belgium went shopping for modern fighter aircraft in the late 1930s, it had already clocked the worrying storm clouds gathering over Europe. Seeking something with a bit more oomph than their charming but outmoded Fairey Fireflies and Gloster Gladiators, the Belgians wisely turned to Hawker Aircraft Ltd. and ordered 20 Hurricane Mk.Is—properly dashing machines equipped with eight .303 Browning machine guns and powered by the Rolls-Royce Merlin III engine, producing a respectable 1,030 horsepower. Not bad for a flying bathtub made largely of fabric and hope.
These early Hurricanes were the Mk.I "tropical" variant—though more in spirit than specification—and featured two-bladed Watts fixed-pitch wooden propellers, fabric-covered wings, and lacked armour plating or self-sealing fuel tanks. Delivered between November 1939 and March 1940, they were assigned to the 2e Escadrille de Chasse of the 1er Régiment d’Aéronautique based at Schaffen-Diest airfield. The Belgians, ever the polite hosts, promptly began training on their new aircraft with the looming understanding that Germany’s intentions were anything but neighbourly.
When the balloon went up on 10 May 1940, the Luftwaffe’s opening gambit included bombing Belgian airfields—and naturally, Schaffen-Diest was high on the guest list. Several Hurricanes were destroyed on the ground before they had a chance to stretch their undercarriage. Nevertheless, a handful managed to scramble, and in one notable engagement on 12 May 1940, Sergeant André Dutilleux intercepted a formation of Heinkel He 111 bombers near Tienen. In an act of airborne gallantry that would have made Douglas Bader put down his tea, Dutilleux pressed home a bold attack, claiming to have damaged one bomber before withdrawing under heavy escort fire.
Belgian Hurricane pilots, though valiant, were at a distinct disadvantage. With no radar, minimal early warning, and little ground coordination, they were effectively playing hide-and-seek with Messerschmitts. To add insult to injury, the Luftwaffe enjoyed numerical superiority and faster, more heavily armed aircraft such as the Bf 109E, which boasted two 20mm cannons and a higher top speed of 354 mph, compared to the Belgian Hurricanes' top speed of around 316 mph. Still, one cannot fault their pluck. Despite fuel shortages, primitive radio comms, and the ongoing obliteration of their country, Belgian pilots got airborne and gave it a thoroughly good go.
By 28 May, Belgium had surrendered, and the Hurricane’s Belgian chapter came to an abrupt end. Of the 20 aircraft originally delivered, most were either destroyed in action, captured intact by advancing German forces, or scuttled by ground crews to prevent their use. A few Belgian pilots managed to escape to France, and later to Britain, where some continued to serve with the Royal Air Force—proving that if you couldn’t save the Hurricanes, you could at least borrow someone else’s and carry on the fight.
In sum, the Hurricane Mk.I in Belgian service was a valiant effort at modernisation—a knight’s sword brought to a gunfight. Though short-lived and numerically underwhelming, its service is a testament to Belgium’s effort to resist with dignity and horsepower, despite the odds. And let it never be said that the Belgians lacked discernment in aircraft procurement. When in doubt, always pick British and bolt Browning guns to it.
Section 5: Denouement in the Low Countries: Farewell to Foxes and Falcos
And so, dear reader, we have traversed the turbulent skies of 1940 Belgium — from the wheezing Renard R-31, all struts and hope, to the gallant Gladiator, rattling its machine guns like a silver teacup in a hailstorm. We’ve met bomber crews who flew their Fairey Battles into the very teeth of the Blitzkrieg, and pilots who made do with what the Ministry could spare, bless them. Each aircraft, each sortie, each half-empty fuel tank tells a story of courage, misfortune, and an admirable refusal to pack it in quietly. It may not have been the most glamorous air force, but by thunder, it had character.
Which brings us, rather conveniently, to the raison d'être of Bayonets and Brushes’ new range. Why, you ask, have we chosen to immortalise this tragically underdogged little air force in pewter, resin, and loving detail? Because history, good sir or madam, is not merely about the victors with their shiny Spitfires and symphonic documentaries. It’s about the bold few who stood their ground (or air) with grit, guts, and aircraft that sometimes started. These are the stories your tabletop deserves — desperate scramble sorties, valiant last stands, and aerial encounters conducted at speeds your average pigeon would find leisurely.
In short: any wargamer worth their camouflage jacket and dice bag ought to have the Belgian Air Force in their life. Not just because it adds flavour, flair, and a dash of Continental bravery to your tabletop, but because it reminds us that heroism doesn’t require overwhelming firepower — just a Gladiator, a map of the Ardennes, and the sheer bloody-mindedness to give Jerry what-for on a Tuesday morning. So load up your Fairey Foxes, glue down those undercarriage struts, and take to the skies. Belgium is calling — and frankly, she’s rather annoyed.
