For Brian Mansbridge, Daedalus is not simply an old military base. It is a thread that runs through much of his life, from his early years as a naval officer and hovercraft pilot to his later work in planning, heritage and community life in Lee-on-the-Solent. Listening to him speak about the site, it becomes clear that Daedalus is woven deeply into the identity of the area itself. The history of Lee cannot really be separated from the history of the airfield, the hovercraft base and the generations of people who lived and worked there.
Brian spent thirty years in the Royal Navy before going on to another thirty years outside it, including work as a non-executive director within the NHS. His connection with Lee began when he was a young naval officer searching for a shore posting after a long period at sea. He realised he could become involved in hovercraft trials connected to mine warfare, and that decision unexpectedly shaped much of what followed in his career.
“I came to Lee, became a hovercraft pilot and had a very nice shore job,” he recalls. “It also took me overseas as well.”
That overseas posting soon became Hong Kong, following an accident involving a hovercraft there. A decision had been made that only naval seaman officers should operate hovercraft in the territory’s congested waters, and Brian suddenly found himself being sent abroad at short notice.
“Tomorrow was the request,” he laughs.
The move became the beginning of a much wider international naval career, eventually taking him and his family across the world, from America to the Gulf. Yet despite all of that travel, Lee remained significant. Years later, after retirement, he chose to return and settle there permanently, becoming deeply involved in both the local community and the preservation of Daedalus’ heritage.
What is striking when Brian speaks is how naturally personal memory merges into wider local history. He does not describe Daedalus simply as a military installation, but as a force that fundamentally shaped modern Lee-on-the-Solent. Before the military presence expanded, Lee had originally been envisioned as an elegant Victorian resort town. Wealthy developments lined the seafront, with large plots and substantial homes intended to rival places such as Bournemouth. Westcliff House, one of the original grand seafront mansions and now part of the Daedalus site, still survives as a reminder of those ambitions.
But the First World War changed everything. Seaplane operations moved to Lee, military training expanded and increasing areas of land disappeared behind military fencing. Between the wars the RAF developed the site further, eventually creating the airfield that still exists today as Solent Airport. During the Second World War, Daedalus became one of the busiest naval air stations in the country, particularly during preparations for D-Day. What had once been planned as an exclusive resort gradually transformed into a town shaped by military life.
“The sailors and airmen didn’t really need resort houses on the seafront,” Brian explains. “They brought families, shops, housing and a whole different kind of community.”
That military presence changed not only the economy of Lee, but its character. Roads improved, communities expanded and the town became increasingly connected to Gosport. The population diversified. New housing appeared in different architectural styles across the decades, from Victorian villas to Art Deco homes and post-war developments. The growth of Daedalus effectively reshaped the social geography of the entire area.
For Brian, hovercraft history forms another crucial chapter in that story. Few places are more important to hovercraft development than Lee-on-the-Solent. Christopher Cockerell’s pioneering invention was tested extensively on the Solent, and Daedalus proved ideal because of its slipway facilities originally built for seaplanes. Brian himself became directly involved in hovercraft trials linked to military mine warfare.
“We found hovercraft were almost immune to naval mines,” he explains. “So they became very interesting for amphibious operations.”
Trials involved detonating mines beneath hovercraft and testing their operational capability across beaches and shallow waters. Britain ultimately chose not to fully develop military hovercraft fleets on the scale of the Americans or Russians, largely due to cost, but the experiments conducted at Daedalus formed an important part of both British military and transport history.
That legacy still survives today through the Hovercraft Museum, a place Brian remains passionate about protecting. For a time, he volunteered there himself, helping maintain and preserve some of the historic craft despite not being an engineer by trade. He describes the museum as internationally significant, the only museum of its kind, yet one that has often struggled through reliance on volunteers and limited resources.
For that reason, he sees the current waterfront redevelopment as an enormous opportunity, not simply for housing but for preserving and reinvigorating heritage.
“What’s really encouraging,” he says, “is they’re going to try and keep the Hovercraft Museum as a museum for the future.”
He speaks positively about the wider plans for the Daedalus waterfront site, particularly the intention to restore and reuse historic buildings rather than allow them to continue falling into dereliction. After the Navy withdrew in the 1980s, large parts of the site stood empty for decades, creating uncertainty about what would happen next. At various points there were proposals ranging from gravel extraction to immigration holding facilities, all of which generated strong local opposition. Meanwhile, many of the historic buildings slowly deteriorated.
Brian understands why redevelopment has taken so long. Restoring listed military buildings is expensive and complex. But he believes the current plans offer a realistic and thoughtful future for the area, combining housing, employment opportunities and heritage preservation while respecting the architectural character of the site.
Importantly, he sees the redevelopment not as a separate enclave but as a chance to reconnect Daedalus back into the life of Lee itself.
“There’s no reason for the military wire to still psychologically exist,” he says, arguing that the development should feel integrated into the wider community rather than isolated behind the remnants of old boundaries.
His optimism is balanced with realism. He acknowledges concerns around infrastructure, healthcare pressures and commuting challenges across the Gosport peninsula. He also recognises the economic impact that the closure of Daedalus originally had on the area, removing a major source of employment and leaving Lee increasingly dependent on outward commuting. Yet he believes the growing industries around Solent Airport, alongside the waterfront development itself, are beginning to restore some of that lost balance.
What emerges most clearly throughout Brian’s reflections is that Daedalus is not merely a heritage site. It is a living influence that continues to shape identity, economy and community across Lee-on-the-Solent. The military may have left decades ago, but its legacy remains visible everywhere, in the architecture, the airfield, the hovercraft museum, the search and rescue helicopters overhead and in the memories of thousands of people connected to the site.
Near the end of the conversation, Brian reflects on arriving in Lee after retirement. Having previously lived elsewhere, he had chosen the town for practical reasons, flat roads, nearby shops and good access. But one summer day, driving down towards the seafront, he suddenly realised something deeper about where he now lived.
“There were people with Kiss Me Quick hats and sunglasses everywhere,” he laughs. “And I suddenly realised… I actually live in a seaside town.”
It is a small memory, but perhaps an important one. Because despite all the military history, all the debates around redevelopment and all the decades of change, Lee-on-the-Solent remains what it has always been: a place shaped by movement, people, reinvention and the sea itself.
And for Brian, seeing Daedalus brought back into use rather than left to decay feels like the next chapter in that continuing story.
