Spitfire Ringers

by Ian Lindsey

  “Buckingham Palace is grand, indeed, but you’ll find the King just as welcoming as could be there.” Mr. Smith replied.

  “You two seem to have made a lot of friends since you got here. You know the whole town.” Timothy said wryly. “Perhaps you’ll run for mayor of London next!”

  “That includes you, my friend.” Payton noted with a glimmer in his eye.

  “We’re just like moths to a light, I guess, or for the ladies like bee’s to honey!” Timothy laughed.

  “People see two of us and just get curious, so it’s easy to strike up a friendly conversation. I’ve found it costs us nothing to be kind and friendly.” Dylan said explaining the phenomenon that Timothy was joking about.

  “True, very true.” Timothy admitted. “Let’s pick up the girls. Making the King wait might be bad form.” So the three boys thanked Mr. Smith again for his service and tried their best not to crease their suits as they clamored in to the back of the limousine. After a short ride, they arrived in time to gather the girls each dressed in splendid, fashionable dresses perfect for the late morning audience with the King. Simone’s closet turned out a dark navy blue beaded dress for Clara that perfectly offset her hair, a dark green shimmering dress for Anne that highlighted her eyes wonderfully, and deep purple dress for Simone herself that flattered her in every way possible.

  “Ladies, you look smashing.” Timothy said as they descended the steps from Simone’s house to the car. Dylan and Payton failed to come up with any words at all. Along with the fine gowns they each also had long white gloves, velvet shawls to match their dresses, and the appropriate baubles as accessories. Simone dripped diamonds from her ears and neck, while Anne had opted for sapphire earrings and a matching deep blue sapphire pendant hanging from a loose strand of pearls. Clara, of course, chose very elegant emerald drop earrings and an enchanting gold necklace emblazoned with emeralds.

  “We barely had enough time to do our hair.” Simone complained slightly “But Anne is a wizard so at least we are presentable.”

  “I had to learn how to do my own hair on the farm. We were a long way from the salon.” Anne explained as the women swept in to the limousine followed by the boys. “And Simone was so kind to loan us these exquisite ensembles. Thank again, my dear, you are a kind friend.”

  “Think nothing of it.” Simone replied demurely, though she seemed genuinely pleased with the compliment.

  “I know the shortest way to the palace from here.” Mr. Smith said “So we should make it in plenty of time for you to find your way to the Royal Quarters. The King’s Butler will meet you at the car park and escort you up to his office.”

  Within minutes of leaving Simone’s they’d arrived at the regal Buckingham Palace. The twins had only a passing idea of the place after reading about it in school, but the citizens of the Commonwealth were all in utter awe as they passed the familiar guards and finally glimpsed the gleaming white Portland Stone face and famous balcony of the massive building up close. The Palace had served as the official Royal Residence since Queen Victoria moved in just over 100 years prior. The Royal Court remained nominally at St. James Palace as it still held the title of ceremonial home to the monarch, but when in London the King stayed at Buckingham Palace. The Palace consisted of 775 rooms in all, including 19 state rooms and 52 Royal and guest bedrooms.

  The butler did indeed meet them promptly at the car and escorted them through the labyrinth of corridors until they arrived at a specific door where he knocked sharply twice in quick succession. The Kings secretary answered and showed the party of six in to a large anteroom to wait for His Majesty. Of course, the room looked like it should be in a palace with high gilded ceilings and fine woodwork around large windows overlooking the garden. Even though they were outside his private office the room was clearly meant to impress visitors, and it succeeded easily.

  “His Majesty will be with you in a moment.” The secretary said before returning to his seat behind a desk in the corner. Not three minutes later a small buzzer on the desk sounded indicating the King was ready for his guests. The secretary opened the door and waved for the group to enter. In stark contrast to the anteroom’s impressive appearance, the king sat in a simple but elegant office behind a large desk that wouldn’t look out of place in the office of the head of an accounting or law firm.

  “Misters Anders, it is a pleasure to see you again. I’m pleased that you’ve taken me up on my offer to visit when in London.” The King beamed as they entered.

  “Your Majesty, we are quite pleased to see you again as well.” Dylan said as politely as possible without showing how pleased he was at such a warm greeting from the King.

  “I see you’ve made a few friends along the way.” The King motioned at the rest of the group.

  “Please excuse us, Your Majesty, our manners have left us. These are our friends, Mr. Timothy O’Ryan and his sister Miss Clara O’Ryan from Dublin, Miss Anne Fields from Alberta, Canada by way of Montreal, and please forgive me if I miss the title, but Lady Simone daughter of the Earl of Crawford from London.”

  “Well done, you are correct.” Simone smiled sweetly.

  “We’ve brought them with us to help tell you what we’ve seen since we last met.” Payton added.

  “Thank you all for coming and I’m very pleased to meet you the King said as he indicated places for everyone to sit while he returned to his seat behind the desk. “I’m very interested to hear what you have to say. I’d assumed that you’d make it to France, though you didn’t have much time to get there I'm afraid.”

  “That’s right, we never made it to France, at least in the way we expected.” Payton responded. “In trying to get to France we met Timothy here in London. His father has an import business and offered us a ride on their next scheduled cargo run between Dublin and Le Havre.” He finished after stretching the truth only a little to cover exactly what and how the O’Ryan’s imported their goods.

  “Very resourceful of you to find a ship crossing the Channel during wartime.” His majesty commented, full well knowing the implications of business going to France at such a time.

  “As you noted, we never made it. Upon our arrival in Dublin we found that France was falling.” Payton said. “Timothy’s father found through some of his contacts that Operation Dynamo was in the works so volunteered his three boats to help out. Clara went down to Dover to arrange a base for us as we sailed down from Dublin.”

  Dylan picked up the story “On our first trip, we met a Captain Lawrence. He was nominally in charge of the beach we landed on using rubber boats to cover the shallows. He arranged for several platoons of men to ferry out to our boats and we sailed back to Dover.”

  “I am deeply in your debt. I know that some small boats helped, but I didn’t know you were a part of it, and to the extent that you did help.” His Majesty said. “Those boys will mean more men safe here than trying to defend a falling country. We’ll need them to fend off Hitler from our island. We’ve repelled the Spanish Armada, and we’ll repel the Germans too.” He finished quietly but with great resolve.

  “Yes sir, we concur that the men are more valuable here for defense. We made seven more runs with the assistance of Captain Lawrence and ferried back almost a company of men each time.” Dylan said.

  “That is truly astounding. God Bless you for your efforts.” The King said in astonishment.

  “On our last trip we found, unfortunately, that Captain Lawrence had been killed. We ventured further inland and found the men he’d intended for us. We made our way back to the beach and our ships, however one ship took a direct hit from a shell. No one was aboard so we avoided casualties, and everyone made it back to Dover safe.” Dylan continued, omitting his own injury cleverly hidden under his jacket.

  “We’d like to comment on the fitness of your forces, if we may sir.” Payton said.

  “Of course, we need to know the moral of the men to know the fighting ability of our army.” The King answered.

  “We
only saw the men at the beach as well as a few stragglers on the road in to town. The morale and discipline of the men ran high, and they particularly seemed defiant to the Germans. However, they were saved by the Germans stopping on the outside of town and that is the only thing that allowed their escape.” Payton reported in the same clipped military style he’d used before.

  “I do not want to seem presumptuous, sir, but there seemed to be a very distinct leadership void. Captain Lawrence acted nearly autonomously in his area and we believe his leadership alone enabled the men we brought back to get out of France alive. All of the men we spoke with talked of disjointed efforts to organize the men for an orderly withdrawal, but in the end it turned out to be every company for itself, if not every man for himself.” Dylan finished his brother’s description.

  “Yes, I quite agree. It is a miracle that we’ve gotten so many men out.” The King thought out loud. “Operation Dynamo is still ongoing, but it is beginning to trickle to a stop. To date, we’ve brought home nearly a quarter million men, and little ships like yours must have played a big part. We hope to bring home another seventy five thousand or so from today in to the next few days, but that's all it is, a hope. We must address the leadership at the top. I’ll speak with Lord Beaverbrook about it. Thank you for the information. What will you do now?”

  “Captain Lawrence kindly put us in contact with Sir Dowding, and he’s offered us training positions in the RAF. We report Monday. Anne has come from Canada to join the Red Cross as a nurse.” Payton said.

  “I'm going to join her.” Clara interjected while Timothy shot her a sharp glance knowing that their parents would want her to finish school.

  “That would be wonderful. We can go through together, knowing someone there will make it easier.” Anne smiled at the thought.

  “A very kind and valiant thing to serve as a nurse and I dare say you’ll be needed more than I wish. Lady Simone, have you any plans?” The King asked.

  “My father has asked me to organize several gatherings to sell war bonds, Your Majesty.” She answered somewhat quietly to avoid comparison to all that the others were doing.

  “Any effort helps the war.” His Majesty replied kindly enough. “Misters Anders, what do you suggest I propose to Lord Beaverbrook?”

  “We are but lowly second lieutenants.” Dylan said.

  “Who are freshly graduated from one of the finest military schools in the world, where you probably graduated higher in your class than I did in mine, and with a firsthand look at the latest war front. Please indulge me and act like this is a class exercise.” The King commanded.

  “Of course, sir.” Payton said while glancing at his brother. “We’d recommend centralizing your command structure, preferably here in London to defend the coast. You’ll also need to work with whoever is left in the French government to have them cede most of the control to your supreme commander. They’ll need a figure head, but should report to your army at the moment.”

  “I’d find your most organized senior General and put him in charge. This is a massive logistical undertaking, and no detail can fall through the cracks.” Dylan added.

  “All good points strategically, but what of the tactical situation at the moment?” His Highness astutely asked.

  “Make Dover look like a fortress to scare off the Germans, and rely on the moat you have in the English Channel. Any submarines you have should be deployed to act like sharks in your moat. Maintain mobility for your armies and hit like a sledgehammer at the initial landing point with all you’ve got.” Payton pointedly answered.

  “The longer you can hold off any attempt they’ll make at crossing the Channel, the better chance you have of rebuilding your army both physically and from a morale standpoint.” Dylan continued. “And the greater chance you have of the United States entering the war to aid you.”

  “Thank you for your candor. Most people won’t tell me the grim reality. Winston seems to be the only one willing to give it to me straight.” The King lamented. “Thank you, again, for your visit.” He continued rising from his desk. His busy schedule brought their brief meeting to an end. “Good luck in your flight training, and in your nursing training ladies. You must visit again when you have some time. Next time I’ll arrange for all of us to have dinner here with my wife and family.” He finished as the group moved toward the door.

  “Thank you for seeing us, Your Majesty, and we will make every effort to take you up on your kind offer again.” Dylan said as they departed through the thick oak door where they had entered.

  ***

  “I can’t believe you weren’t kidding around!” declared Clara in mock anger as the six poured out of the limousine for lunch at the Savoy.

  “I can’t help that you didn’t believe me.” Dylan protested mildly. “I hope you enjoyed the visit though.”

  “Of course we all did.” Anne interceded gently. “This war…”she said trailing off. “What will happen to us next?” She finished after a moment.

  “Ours is not to wonder why, ours but to do and die.” Payton answered.

  “Charge of the Light Brigade. At least you know your poetry close enough. Tennyson wrote roughly that almost a century ago.” Clara said as if she were lecturing to a class. “Hopefully there will be no futile rushes across barren fields. Please don’t die, my love.” She finished playfully with only a hint of seriousness added for Dylan’s benefit.

  “No, a century ago the war could only take place on the ground. Tomorrow we start training for war in the air, for war at 350 miles an hour.” Dylan offered earnestly. And, he was correct. The last war hinged on men in trenches willing to hurl themselves across no man’s land into a barrage of machine gun and cannon fire. In the last war, few machines helped the effort, but in the two decades since the end of the First World War technological advances furthered the ability of nations to bludgeon each other in to submission. Hitler’s entire war making effort hinged on these advances. The Blitzkrieg simply could not blitz without the aid of machines. Dive bombers roared ahead and softened enemy lines for tanks to crash through and envelope whole armies in days instead of the traditional maneuvers that took weeks or months to execute on foot. Generals from the old days could not imagine the speed and ferocity unleashed by such machines and suffered massive defeats because of it. The tactics of war shifted swiftly from fixed fortifications with thick walls and big guns to speed and mobility above pure firepower. The French offered the simplest example of the shifting tactics. They had bet heavily that the Maginot line would stop any German invasion cold in its tracks before it even got started. The line of fortified gun emplacements meant to keep the Germans out lead the French army to believe they could withstand any frontal assault across the border and the Rhine River. However, the French did not anticipate the Germans simply bypassing the Maginot line and coming through Belgium and the Netherlands. The mobile Wehrmacht and the gaping hole left by the undefended boarders to the north rendered the Maginot line useless to the French Army, the march to Paris simpler for the Wehrmacht, and the Dunkirk evacuations necessary for the British Expeditionary Force.

  Dylan and Payton saw the problem the moment Anne translated the news from the radio for them. At WestPoint they’d learned the virtues of firepower and mobility in the new age of warfare and had taken the lessons to heart naturally because they knew that an airplane combined the best of maneuverability with great firepower. Plus, they loved to fly so the never questioned their desire to join the air corps. No longer could a country simply throw concrete and men against an enemy and hope for victory. Now only machines skillfully employed with the armies behind them could take and hold land. Moving so a big gun couldn’t hit a soldier and then taking it out from the air seemed far simpler than running straight at the barrel. Now, Dylan and Payton would learn to fly at speeds never dreamed of by generations before them with an invasion looming that they could only hope to beat off. They would learn the limits of speed and warfare in the most intense crucible possible.<
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  Chapter 18

  June 4th, 1940

  After a long afternoon spent in the glorious sunshine of London with the awe struck ladies recounting their encounter with the King, the little band of young people split off in to pairs for the evening and each couple had a quiet dinner forgetting their impending split and challenge to their newfound romances with many promises to write and reunite at every possible moment. The twins promptly reported back to Sir Dowding’s aide at Bentley Priory on Monday morning where they’d endured a battery of physical tests on everything from their reflexes to their eyesight which both passed rather easily, Dylan’s shoulder not-withstanding. Sir Dowding’s aide gave them one more night off by informing them they’d report back in the morning for transport to the training grounds at Middle Wallop.

  With one more found day they met Clara and Anne back at the Red Cross in London for the evening. Both girls made it in to the newest class of nursing students and arrived to meet the boys with looks of relief on their faces now that they could for certain help the war effort. The night went quickly with brief bursts of chatter about updates on the one day of action but mostly with quite moments spent glancing back and forth hoping for time to stop though all involved knew that time marches on.

  The Red Cross took the ladies back in, and the boys reported for their transport again in the morning. Middle Wallop sat between its brother and sister parishes Over Wallop and Nether Wallop in Hampshire the three of which run in a roughly north south line along the stream known as Wallop Brook. Situated southwest of London and due north of Southampton, the transport took a little more than ninety minutes to cover the roughly seventy-five mile trip. The newly opened airfield east of the village housed Nos. 609 and 238 squadrons which were part of 10 group RAF fighter command. The former flew the smashing new Supermarine Spitfire, and the latter flew the RAF workhorse Hurricane MK1. The Spitfire descended both in name and form from a sleek racing plane with the best fighter engine in the world, the Rolls Royce Merlin Mark VIII. The combination of the two made for a fast, maneuverable predator of the sky. Where the Spitfire was fast and smooth, the Hurricane was rugged and strong. It plowed through the sky on shear might and thunder warding off attackers instead of evading them.