By John Sutton

Gordon Brettell

Gordon was the son of Vivian and Eileen Brettell and brother of Terence Brettell whose interest in Vintage cars continued post war and who was a contributor of many photographs for the Vintage Sports Car Club’s regular Bulletins. 

We are fortunate to have a letter from Gordon’s brother Terence which gives a wonderful insight into his character. 

Quote:-

“----Gordon was 5 years my senior & I both loved and admired him.  He seemed always to do things better than I could.  I think I only once surpassed him, when I was about 17.  We had a gravel path “course” round our fairly large lawn & used to time each other on bikes (push), the record changing frequently.  Gordon quite clearly hoped that I could take this record & when I eventually got round in 20 seconds flat, though I’m sure he didn’t cheat on my behalf in the timing, when I repeatedly urged him to have another go, though he agreed he should, he always had some excuse for not doing so.  I suspect my sole triumph was, therefore, not all that genuine!  I still marvel at the attitude of our parents.  Not only were there some fairly gruesome accidents but there was always a danger that one of us might enter the drawing-room through one of its large picture-windows.  They clearly were not much in favour our activities but never tried to stop them, nor even to speak against them.  But I digress.  I not only loved & admired Gordon, I came to consider him indestructible – not without reason.  At the age of fifteen he developed a mastoid, serious enough then, but in his case it was wrongly diagnosed & the poison spread over his face.  He had many operations & was at death’s door for weeks on end, but he recovered, only to start sudden blackouts, without warning.  It was feared that his brain was damaged.  (Some people might have thought that his performance at the Whitsun meeting was evidence that this fear was indeed correct, but I trust you will see that, as I explain in the enclosed photocopies, it was over-exuberance rather than brain-fade, which can be blamed).  Gordon recovered completely & duly survived his over-the-top crash at Brooklands.  In a sweep over France in 1941 he was separated, in a dog fight, from his squadron.  On the way home in his Spitfire he was jumped by a dozen Messerschmitts.  He fought them all the way back, possibly downing one, but was himself badly wounded in the head.  He became unconscious but just before going into the sea came to & succeeded in getting home.  Having recovered, he was on another sweep but they were given the wrong wind direction & landed up over Brest, a bad place to be at that time.  He was shot down by anti-aircraft fire.  The cockpit wouldn’t open (no ejetor saets in those days) & he went into the ground at some 200 mph.  He recovered completely from this.  Can you wonder that I thought him indestructible?  Alas, even he could not survive a bullet in the back of the head, administered by the Gestapo after the “Great Escape” from Stalag Luft III 

Gordon joined the RAFVR (Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve) and gained the rank of Flight Lieutenant .  His unit was 133 Eagle Squadron.   He was shot down a second time on the 26^th September 1942 whilst flying a Spitfire Mk IX No. BS313.  He was awarded the DFC. 

ESCAPE 

If you can quit the compound undetected

And clear your tracks nor leave the smallest trace

And follow out the programme you've selected

Nor lose your grasp at distance, time and place

If you can walk at night by compass bearing

Or ride the railways by day and night

And temper your elusiveness with daring

Trusting that sometimes bluff will find a way

If you can swallow sudden sour frustration

And gaze unmoved at failure's ugly shape

Remembering as further inspiration

It was, and is, your duty to escape

If you can keep the great Gestapo guessing

With explanations only partly true

And leave them in their heart of hearts, confessing

They didn't get the whole truth out of you

If you can use your 'Cooler' fortnight clearly

For planning methods wiser than before

And treat your miscalculation merely

As hints let fall by fate to teach you more

If you scheme on with patience and precision

It wasn't in a day they builded Rome

And make escape your sole ambition

The next time you attempt it –YOU'LL GET HOME 

By all accounts Gordon was a fun loving character whose exploits as a racing driver were also well documented, particularly when he “went over the top” of the Brooklands banking with his little Austin 7 racing car at the BARC Whit-Monday meeting on the 17^th May 1937.  The photo of him emerging from the undergrowth with a broken arm even made the front page of The Times newspaper.