Churchills 'few', the heroic RAF fighter pilots of the Battle of Britain who displayed indomitable bravery and skill over three frenetic months in the summer of 1940, would scarcely have imagined the immortality their deeds would bestow.

From the Dambusters raid deep in the heart of Nazi Germany, to the early exploits of the SAS and those countless stories of acts of self-sacrifice by both military personnel and civilians, all live long in the memory and imagination.

One group of four or five war medals may seem much like another, but research can uncover the hidden stories of those that received them, writes Nigel Kirk .

The huge collection of militaria and medals currently awaiting sale at The Auction House includes the group of Flight Lieutenant William Alfred Doherty of the RAF.

With them is a splendid 1940s photograph of the handsome young pilot proudly wearing medal ribbons on his chest; Brylcreemed hair and the slightly awkward prop of a pipe, complete the classic portrait of an archetypal WWII British pilot.

Putting a face to the name engraved on the medals personalises them, but of more significance are the four volumes of the Pilots Flying Log Books. They constitute an unbroken record documenting thousands of flying hours in what appears to be every type of aircraft in service with the RAF, from his earliest days as a cadet in March 1938 to April 1948, by which time he was a decorated officer.

His role was to test-fly new or repaired aircraft to ensure they were ready for active service. Not all were, and crashes on take-off and other scary mishaps are logged without further comment.

In 1942 he was in the air many times a day, usually for periods of 25 or 30 minutes putting the latest batch of Spitfires through their paces and test-firing the planes machine guns or canons.

The entry for 16 November 1942, is typical - when he flew six new Spitfires.

In June 1945 he was decorated with the Air Force Cross. The award was reserved for acts of exemplary gallantry in the air when on non-operational missions and meritorious service in flying duties.

A relatively scarce award, only 2,605 were gazetted. The group with his log books is estimated at 2,000-3,000.

Until recent times people in this country, those of Dohertys generation and the next, would speak not of war but 'the War'.

This year the Royal British Legions Poppy Appeal and the nations annual collective act of remembrance of war dead - including those of the 21st century - marks the 80th anniversary of the start of World War Two.

Buying a paper poppy raises money for veterans and their families. Wearing one, whether red or white, is a matter of deeper significance known only to the wearer. It may be a token of respect or thankfulness for the sacrifice of others whether ancestor or unknown, a memorial to the inevitable innocent victims or most profoundly, a commitment to peace.

Politicians and other public figures are amongst the first to be seen sporting a poppy each year. The poppy is a symbol that has become a tradition or an institution, such as the Christmas broadcast of the Queen or the Popes homily.

The fusion of message spoken or unspoken and symbol is powerful, but what of the effect? Millennials are seldom to be seen wearing a poppy. For many of them the wars of the 20th century are either historical facts or dim-remembered events spoken of, if at all, by aged relatives.

Their parents experienced the fear of living under the threat of nuclear war. The Cold War's sudden and unexpecting ending was also celebrated last week on the 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.

Effective and probably new means of teaching the veterans impassioned plea of never again to a society that no longer has any filial connection with veterans or victims, as did their great grandparents, is vitally important in an ever more unfamiliar world.

That will require imagination, dedication and expertise. I can hardly think of a more important subject for the school curriculum.

Two rare and tiny English pewter tankards of indeterminate age sold for a surprising 800 at The Auction House at the end of last month.

The larger of the two, which was about 6cm high, had a charming engraved depiction of a swan on the lid in a manner known as wrigglework. In addition, the front was engraved with the initials of the original owner I T and date 1662.

The bidders clearly thought one or both did indeed date from the era of the diarist Samuel Pepys and Charles II.

Miniature furniture or objects in silver or pewter such as these were known as toys. The concept of childrens toys as we know them is relatively modern, children being given much simpler and inexpensive dolls and games, or more likely making their own play things.

These were destined for the mistress of the house, fancies for display and conversation with friends over that new and costly beverage tea.

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Medals of pilot who tested Spitfires before they returned to the war are going up for sale - Nottinghamshire Live