The Enigma Game

by Elizabeth Wein

  ‘Do I have to do something?’ She waggled her fingers. She could hardly bend them in Chip’s gauntlets.

  I laughed. ‘Don’t worry – you’re just here to be a third bod. But if we come under fire, get out of the turret. The rear gunner sticks out like a sore thumb, and you’ll be a sitting duck. Silver’s having a quiet word about you with Ignacy. He and Derfel will be flying right behind us, and they’ll cover you. I’ve got a gun of my own up front. You make sure you keep your head down.’

  I’d just have to stay high if we ran into anti-aircraft fire – or low if we met an enemy plane. I couldn’t risk getting shot up with Louisa in the back.

  I think she knew that.

  ‘You can still change your mind,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s five minutes till engine start.’

  ‘Rules are made to be broken,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to change my mind.’

  Part Four

  Aces

  Louisa:

  This time I hadn’t put a sixpence in the ceiling – or even my secret penny. I didn’t let myself think about it. I was not a fool-fool country gal.

  The engines roared and the Blenheim bumped over the airfield. I couldn’t see the take-off, but I knew when we left the ground because the jouncing stopped. I wrestled myself up into the clear Perspex gunner’s turret. There wasn’t any point worrying about anything for the next few hours, and the beauty of the sea and sky in silver moonlight and blue clouds was like a fairy world, a dream world. I was amazed by the cold night sky, the clouds filled with luminous light and shadow as we rose through them, the full moon dipping in and out of view, stars frozen still overhead. I wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Jamie’s laughing voice came over the intercom.

  ‘Rear gunner, you’re making a lot of noise. Keep it down.’

  I was humming Rhapsody in Blue. Just the way Mummy used to hum without thinking about it! The sky was wonderful.

  And the cold – the cold! It was unreal. Even after three years in England, I was not ready for this kind of cold. After ten minutes I had to grip the sides of the turret to stop my body from shuddering. My toes and fingers began to ache. Frost began to fur the inside of the plane – all the struts and rivets and wires grew velvety white coats. When I breathed, the inside of my mask was slick with a thin layer of ice. The Perspex near my head became foggy, froze, and fogged again.

  I kicked my feet and clapped my gauntleted hands to warm them up. Jamie and Silver had both given me their extra socks. I was bundled up with heated Ever-Hot bags. What could anyone do if I complained? I couldn’t complain. We were in the sky over the North Sea.

  Now and then Silver gave Jamie a heading or a height. Through the crackle and fuzz of the headset I could hear people talking in the other B-Flight planes. Nobody was singing in German or sending coded messages. The cold, beautiful sky was quiet in its garment of clouds and moonlight.

  I don’t know how long we’d been flying, but after a bit I wasn’t getting moments of moonlight any more, and I could only see a star if I looked straight up. Then there were no stars, either. Clouds rose all around, blue and black and mysterious, more shadow than light.

  Then there wasn’t any light. It was all the close darkness of fog.

  ‘All B-Flight aircraft, this is Pimms Leader,’ Jamie called. ‘Better turn back, lads. I don’t like this cloud.’

  I heard protests from the other airmen. Ignacy’s Polish accent stood out. ‘A good cloud is the Blenheim bomber’s best friend!’

  ‘You’re not hedge-hopping over the Netherlands any more, and it isn’t summer. Remember A-Flight in the fog in Shetland? We’ve got too many sprogs flying tonight – no offence, Stedman, but most of your lads are just as fresh as mine. North Sea ice and fog are no conditions for new pilots.’

  ‘Righto, Pimms Leader,’ called Adam Stedman, Madeira’s leader, in agreement. ‘But I’m not a sprog. I’m on instruments.’

  ‘So am I. You and I can complete the op ourselves,’ said Jamie. ‘The rest of you head back now. Get beneath the cloud if you can; watch out for engine and airframe ice. And spread out. Don’t try to stay together. I don’t want any collisions.’

  I couldn’t see any horizon – it was all murk.

  Jamie had said to let him know if anything bothered me, and something did.

  ‘If you can fly on instruments, can’t the Luftwaffe also?’ I asked.

  ‘Someone in a crate like ours could, yes,’ he answered lightly. ‘A bomber could. But they’re unlikely to send any Messers out into this soup. Fighters have to see you to shoot at you. Don’t worry.’

  I tried not to worry. It was smooth flying. But if a mountain or another plane suddenly loomed in front of us, we’d never see it.

  Jamie:

  ‘Just checking we’re on parallel headings,’ Adam Stedman came in over the static. ‘And that you’re above me. I can’t see you.’

  ‘Affirm to both. And I can’t see you either.’

  ‘Give that de-icer another pump, would you?’ Silver said. ‘Those engines sound rough.’

  ‘Aye. Wish we could get out of this muck.’

  ‘Shall we try a different heading?’

  ‘I don’t want to run into Stedman,’ I said. ‘I’ll go higher and see if we can clear the cloud. We’ll give it fifteen minutes and reassess. I can’t believe any Jerry pilot’s out here in this frozen cotton wool trying to bomb a fishing boat. They can’t see what’s down there any more than we can.’

  Ugh, Louisa could hear everything we said. She wasn’t a worrier, but I was pretty sure she was worried.

  ‘You all right back there, rear gunner?’ I said over the intercom.

  ‘A bit cold,’ she admitted.

  ‘Can you feel your toes?’

  ‘Yes, and I wish I couldn’t!’

  Brave lass! ‘No you don’t. If they hurt they’ll be all right.’ I felt I owed her more of an apology. ‘I’m sorry about the clouds. I wouldn’t have invited you if I’d known you wouldn’t see anything.’

  ‘It was lovely before,’ she said staunchly.

  We flew on. The seconds crept by. It felt like an hour by the time fifteen minutes had ticked off. Well, we’d given it our best shot; we’d never find anything out here tonight, and neither would anyone else.

  ‘That’s it, Stedman, let’s go,’ I said. ‘This is a washout. Hold your height. And take care.’

  ‘See you back in Scotland,’ crackled Stedman’s voice.

  ‘Heading two-zero-five,’ said Silver.

  I began to turn, eyes glued to the instrument panel. Poor Louisa probably couldn’t tell which way was up. Outside was nothing but suffocating cloud and the faint, pale glow of the frosted airframe.

  The flight home seemed longer than it should have been. It wasn’t; I could tell by the clock. But I began to feel I was flying in circles, even though I knew I was holding a steady course.

  ‘Aren’t we there yet?’ I asked Silver.

  ‘Give it another minute on this heading,’ he answered, and there was strain in his voice, too.

  Time crawled on. The luminous clock dial told me so.

  Louisa dared to ask, ‘Are we lost?’

  ‘No, we’re not lost,’ I assured her. ‘But it’s not fun to fly in.’

  ‘Oh,’ Louisa said. She didn’t sound reassured.

  ‘Heading one-nine-zero,’ said Silver.

  Louisa didn’t say anything else. There wasn’t anything she could do to help.

  ‘Can’t you give me a direct course?’ I asked.

  ‘No, in case we overshoot and fly into a mountain,’ Silver answered. ‘We don’t want to descend below safety height. Not in cloud like this – one-nine-zero—’

  I banked slowly to port.

  Louisa’s voice yelled in my ears.

  ‘Kingsleap Light!’

  I saw it too, far below, a brilliant green ray piercing the clouds for one second. I spiralled down over the lighthouse, knowing I wouldn’t hit anything out at sea. The cloud was so
low it sent fingers wreathing around the lighthouse tower. But we could see white foam against the black waves below, crashing on the Kingsleap Rocks.

  Louisa’s voice came urgently in my headset.

  ‘“Hold green light await fog!”’

  ‘What?’ I asked automatically. ‘“Hold green light”?’

  A second later I realized why the words were familiar.

  HOLD GREEN LIGHT AWAIT FOG

  ‘“Await fog”! It’s an instruction!’ Louisa cried. ‘They always say “green light” when they mean Kingsleap – it means wait for a fog and then have another go at Windyedge!’

  She’d cracked it.

  ‘What the—?’ Silver asked.

  We were so close to Windyedge we ought to have seen the flashing beacon at the end of the runway. It wasn’t on, because I hadn’t called in yet. Presumably it was on earlier, when the rest of B-Flight came back. I couldn’t see the sea cliffs. If I left the lighthouse I would have to climb into fog to be sure I didn’t hit them.

  But an enemy bomber wouldn’t have to worry about hitting the cliffs if he oriented himself by the lighthouse and stayed high as he came in over the airfield.

  ‘There may be a Luftwaffe bandit heading this way,’ I said to Silver. ‘We’d better do a bit of a patrol. There’s plenty of fuel left. If anyone asks, we’ll give credit to our ace wireless operator overhearing enemy transmissions.’

  I called Adam Stedman to join me, and I called to the radio room on the ground and told them not to light up, and to man the anti-aircraft guns. Finally, for Louisa’s benefit, I said, ‘Hold on back there. Could be a false alarm …’

  Adam came rumbling out of the clouds and flew right round the base of the lighthouse, making sure we could see each other. Then we both flew in long ellipses, one of us on each end of the curve, out to sea and back, peering into nothing.

  It felt as though time had stopped still. Maybe we were already dead and this was purgatory, circling in the frozen dark forever, adjusting the angle of bank on the long turns, looking for an enemy that might not exist.

  ‘There!’

  Silver and Louisa yelled together.

  It was a Junkers 88 Luftwaffe bomber, a hulking black shape caught in the green loom of the lighthouse beam.

  ‘Get out of that turret!’ I yelled at Louisa.

  Louisa:

  But I didn’t – if I was going to die in an air battle I wanted to see it.

  The Luftwaffe plane came out of the fog below us, a black shadow bathed in green light. I couldn’t hear the German engines’ tell-tale throb because of my headset and our own engines.

  ‘I’m going in,’ called Adam Stedman, and I saw sizzling red tracks through the air made by his firing guns.

  The lighthouse beam turned. I couldn’t see Adam’s Blenheim or the German plane.

  ‘Are you out?’ Jamie called.

  ‘Yes, on you go—’

  We dived. I couldn’t tell where the target was, but Silver barked directions to Jamie as if he could see in the dark.

  The Blenheims took turns heckling the Luftwaffe bomber. When Jamie swooped down, all I could see was the frosted Perspex of the turret, glowing red as the inside of a pomegranate. I felt the dive and heard the guns in my stomach.

  We swooped back up, avoiding the swinging lighthouse beam. Below us, red and blue light flickered as the Madeira Blenheim and the Ju-88 fired at each other. I saw a burst of orange flame, but it instantly went dark again.

  ‘He’s away!’ came Adam Stedman’s triumphant yell. ‘I think I got an engine. He wasn’t expecting an attack, was he!’

  ‘Think he’ll risk climbing into the cloud and bombing Windyedge on one engine?’ Jamie asked sharply.

  ‘Don’t know – hope not – well, I bloody well wouldn’t if it was me. It’s a long way back to Norway on one iced-up engine.’

  Over the sea cliffs I saw a warm yellow glow like a great big firefly in the dark. It was a window in the Limehouse whose blackout curtains were pulled back. The light blazed boldly into the war-torn night at two o’clock in the morning.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ cursed Adam Stedman. ‘That’ll tell them where to aim, if they’re still flying.’

  ‘Someone’s scared of the dark,’ Jamie muttered. ‘I bet I know who.’

  He radioed Windyedge and told them to ring the Limehouse and get Mrs Campbell to ‘close her bloody curtains’.

  Only the double bedrooms faced south-east. Mrs Campbell would be the first to get in trouble, but it wasn’t her bedroom showing light. Miss Lind’s room had the big bay window.

  Jamie:

  Stedman and I patrolled for another twenty minutes before we landed. But the bomber didn’t come back, and finally I got Windyedge to light the beacon for us. There wasn’t much gap between cloud and land, but we could see the flashing red light at the end of the runway.

  It wasn’t my best landing. But we’d done a hell of a night’s work.

  ‘I hope you haven’t turned into a block of ice,’ I called to Louisa as we bounced over the frozen field.

  ‘I’m warm as toast!’ she lied through chattering teeth.

  Wonderful Louisa!

  HOLD GREEN LIGHT AWAIT FOG

  What if she hadn’t been along, putting the puzzle pieces together?

  We’d have landed, and the Ju-88 would have seen the beacon and followed us in.

  All the B-Flight Blenheims would have been lined up on the ground beneath the bombs.

  Ellen:

  I spent most of the night worrying that Texas Sunshine would freeze to death in the back of the Tilly, so I sat freezing with him to make sure he didn’t.

  It was fearsome to watch the haar sea mist roll in and the moonlight disappear, and after the first planes came back, to spend a terrible hour waiting for the section leaders – and, God pity her, for Louisa. I heard the engines, Adam and Jamie flying round and round above us out at sea, as if it were too foggy for them to land. They circled most of another hour. No one outside the radio room knew what was happening. The beacon stayed dark, and Adam and Jamie stayed in the air.

  Then came the battle over the lighthouse. You couldn’t see anything but flashes in the cloud, like distant lightning.

  And then, hurrah, hurrah, the beacon winking on, and the planes roaring in with their landing lights shining, safe as houses.

  I fired up the Tilly and raced to meet Jamie’s Blenheim trundling over the frozen grass. I got there before any other body and was halfway up the wing myself when the crew tumbled out. I hugged that rear gunner as tight as I could hug, and felt wee arms in deep padding hugging me back. God be thanked.

  ‘All right, lads?’ I asked, when we all had our feet on the ground.

  ‘Not dead yet,’ Jamie answered cheerfully. ‘Give us a smoke, lass.’

  ‘Got the shakes again?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Takes more than a mite of cloud and a few squirts of machine-gun fire to make me lose my nerve.’

  I lit him a cigarette anyway, and he gave it to Louisa, who I’m guessing had never smoked in her life. Clever lass passed it to Silver straightaway – she knew she’d blow her cover if she started choking and spluttering over her first cigarette. Silver took a drag, handed it back to Jamie, and went to open the van.

  ‘We’d better get this gunner to bed, don’t you think?’ he said. ‘His toes might be a bit cold, and he’s in no state for debriefing.’

  ‘Right you are!’ said Jamie.

  Chip was still snoring as Jamie and Silver carried him into their barracks. Louisa stayed out of the way and rode home with me on the back of my bike as Jamie and Silver headed to ops to be grilled about their flight.

  ‘Give that Swiss milkmaid a bollocking for leaving her light on,’ was the last thing Jamie told us.

  Louisa:

  Scolding Elisabeth Lind for her blackout violation wasn’t the first thing on my mind as I limped up through the inky stairwell in the Limehouse. My feet had never been so cold in my entire life.
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br />   I stayed in the bathroom for nearly two hours, sitting on the chilly linoleum in the dark, rubbing my feet with a towel and crying as quietly as I could. The bathroom was safe; no one would come in during the night. The hot water was off till 7 a.m., and the loo was in its own closet next door. If I made no noise, no one would notice me.

  I kept an ear out for Jane in case she got up, but by four o’clock in the morning I was so tired I thought I might be able to go to bed and sleep off the rest of the pain. I dragged myself out of the bathroom and started down the passage to Room Number Five.

  As I crossed the landing at the top of the stairwell, I heard a noise in the hall below me like a trapdoor closing.

  I panicked.

  How had that woman got herself downstairs without me noticing? Not again!

  The rest of the house was silent, still and dark. I knew for a fact Nancy Campbell finished counting in the landing Blenheims over three hours ago.

  I put one burning foot down on the top step, then hesitated as I realised what the sound downstairs had been. There was a big medieval wooden bench in the hall with storage under the seat. The sound I’d heard was the lid closing. I didn’t think Jane could stand and lift that lid herself.

  Then I heard the door of the telephone cupboard open, and I could tell that someone was sweeping the beam of an electric torch about inside it. I waited, listening. The torch went dark; I couldn’t hear footsteps, but a minute later the door of Mrs Campbell’s office snicked open.

  Whoever was down there was moving so furtively that I wondered if we were being burgled.

  But the creeper seemed too familiar with the place to be a sneak thief – perhaps it was Nan checking windows after the blackout violation. The office door closed again. There wasn’t any more light. The person was being very cautious.

  Footsteps came treading deliberately up the staircase.

  I took another step down and grabbed the rail, gasping with the shock of the sudden weight on my feet.