Spitfire Ringers

by Ian Lindsey

  “Glad to oblige.” Dylan offered, also pleased that he’d have a direct hand in defending Clara and knowing Payton would probably think the same about Anne. “Where are we headed?”

  “The ladies have to work at the hospital until about 8pm tonight, but then we can meet them there for a late supper.” Timothy answered. “We’ll have a few hours in London to knock around before we meet them. You boys look like you’re ready for the town. I’ll swing by my place and switch out to something more suitable and we’ll find a place to get a drink. In fact, we’ll make it tradition. Whenever you are on leave in London I’ll have the pleasure of buying your first beers upon your successful defense of my sorry arse.”

  “We’ll take the beers, but you are in charge of defending your own rear.” Payton laughed back at his friend. Just like with the girls, more than two weeks had passed since the twins laid eyes on Timothy, so falling in to the same camaraderie felt good.

  The three passed the rest of the car trip chatting aimlessly about Timothy’s wanderings through the great city. The twins told him a little about flying, but the intense training seemed like drudgery to Timothy so they mostly avoided the subject. The country side slide by like a green quilt with low hedgerows serving as stitch marks across the patchwork. The straight lines reminded the twins very little of the rugged and jagged lines of their home in Oregon. The soaring pine trees of the Willamette Valley presented a different texture of green background and even though they’d also grown up on a farm, these smaller patches of land still seemed a little foreign. The pastoral setting stood in stark contrast to their memories of the deep forest and even more contrasting to the imposing skyscrapers of London forming their own steel forest. The twins knew that they’d defend these farms, this quilt, the steel forest, just as if it were their own farm amidst their own forest. Nothing else could even come close to accomplishing the mission they set out for themselves in New York knowing that they had to do something for the world state of affairs.

  Once they arrived at the small studio flat Timothy had rented for the remainder of the summer near the hospital Payton took the chance to write home to his father since he hadn’t written since before sailing for Dunkirk.

  Dear Dad,

  I hope you and mom are getting along okay. Last I wrote we were headed to Dublin. You may have read about the evacuation of Dunkirk, so I thought you’d like to know that Dylan and I helped by sailing between Dover and Dunkirk several times on a couple of borrowed boats. We saved nearly a company of men with each trip that we took. We finished after one of our boats took a shell while empty. That seemed like a good sign to pack it in.

  After we returned to London we managed to secure a commission to the Royal Air Force. For the last three weeks we’ve learned the basics of aeronautical warfare, and after this weekend we’ll be posted to a squadron at Biggin Hill, southeast of London. We’ll help defend the seat of the empire.

  On a slightly different note, Dylan and I have both met our own wonderful girls. I met Anne while we were in Canada and she followed us here to London to volunteer with the Red Cross. She must be as crazy as me. I’m sure you will like her. Dylan met Clara in Dublin and is head over heels. She’s a spitfire and I’m sure you’ll like her too.

  We’ll do our best to write more often. Give our love to Mom.

  Love,

  Payton

  ***

  The boys arrived at the hospital early enough to walk around some before finding the girls. They passed wards full of injured men convalescing after battle. The grim looks of survival mixed with glassy eyed shell shock as well as those relieved to simply hold on to their lives. These men survived the horrors with the scars to prove it, but the worst scars did not clearly show on skin but on psyche. The twins recognized one of the men they’d brought back from Dunkirk and stopped to chat. He sustained a glancing ricocheted piece of shrapnel through the thigh, but otherwise counted himself lucky and well on his way to being healed. The man didn’t say much otherwise, but he did relay his gratitude and included that he’d be back in the battle soon not because he wanted to, but because he needed to protect his family in London. In England not only were they fighting the tyrant of Berlin, fighting for freedom and fighting for their way of life, but they also fought to defend their families. They didn’t have the choice that so conflicted Roosevelt and the rest of America. Payton and Dylan came because they knew it was right and they wouldn’t wait for political indecision. Even though came to keep war as far away as possible from their mother and father half a world away, they now were fighting for Anne and Clara, too.

  Finally, the girls emerged from their training rounds in their long skirts and aprons.

  “Hello, my love.” Anne beamed at Payton when she walked up and wrapped her arms around his neck for a kiss.

  “Hello, Anne, I’m pleased to see you.” Payton said, unable to really think of anything else to say while both acted rather shy in their moment of tender reunion.

  Clara, meanwhile, dispensed with the greeting and went directly for a passionate embrace and kiss of Dylan.

  “It’s nice to see you, too.” Dylan deadpanned with a sly grin in between kisses.

  “No hug for your brother?” Timothy complained mildly.

  “Hello Tim. I see you often enough.” Clara chided her brother.

  “Tell me about your nursing courses.” Payton asked of Anne.

  “These poor men, with their horrid wounds, please don’t ever end up here.” Anne responded. “That’s not much of an answer.” She sheepishly conceded without prompting.

  “Well, it’s true.” Clara jumped in. “But the training has been adequate, considering the circumstances. We’ve learned to staunch any bleeding and recognize shock. Other than that we mostly just comfort the men and follow the directions of the doctors.”

  “I’d imagine no one can comfort more easily than the two of you.” Payton attempted a compliment. “You can practice tonight on us!” he finished with a joke.

  “I’d ask about your flying, but honestly at this point I’m too tired to care. Please forgive me.” Anne said, and for the first time the four reunited paramours took a moment past the rush of the greeting to see the same looks on the opposites face and body language. They were all tired from the intense training, drained physically but buoyed by the emotional energy of contributing to the cause as well as the joy of the unexpected sight of their new loved ones.

  “I hadn’t much felt it until now, but I haven’t felt this tired since our first year at the Academy.” Dylan admitted. The small group lingered in the hallway where they’d met for a moment longer before mustering the energy to move on. Without much in the way of plans, they ate a simple dinner at a local pub and meandered through conversation. Shortly after the stately grandfather clock in the corner struck ten, the quintet heard low rumbling in the distance.

  “I didn’t think we’d have thunder tonight.” Anne thought out loud. “I know it’s warm, but the forecast called for clear skies the rest of the weekend.”

  “Thunder here is rare.” Clara added.

  “That’s not thunder.” Payton stated quietly.

  “They’re bombs.” Dylan added somberly.

  “Bombs? From training?” Anne asked.

  “No, from Germans.” Payton said knowing that the bombing meant that they finished their training just in time. “The low sound means they are a long way off, so we should be safe here for the moment. My guess is that the air fields are taking a pounding in these night raids. The Germans have stuck to strategic bombing during the blitz krieg, so they might want to knock out the air defenses.”

  “Must you leave then?” Clara asked tentatively.

  “Not yet. We don’t have any place to call. Captain Benson just gave us orders to simply show up at Biggin Hill Monday morning. We’ll finish dinner and make some calls after we drop you back off at the hospital.” Dylan answered.

  “Don’t go without saying goodbye, then.” Anne more ordered than request
ed.

  “Of course we won’t.” Payton responded quickly and patiently. “Duty calls, but we don’t want to leave you either.”

  The rest of the dinner passed with the intermittent rumbling moving further afield and very little conversation as they tried to soak up every moment together. All involved hoped that this wasn’t the last time they’d see each other before taking on the next rigors of war.

  Shortly after walking the ladies back and lingering on the doorstep of the hospital dormitory, the twins rode quietly back to Timothy’s flat. Dylan took the reins and called back to Middle Wallop. The duty officer seemed somewhat distracted, most likely by the reports of bombing, and simply gave the number for the duty officer at Biggin Hill before hanging up. Payton took his turn and called Biggin Hill. With a quick introduction and question to the duty officer all Timothy and Dylan heard was Payton replying “Yes, sir.” several times.

  “Verdict?” Timothy asked after Payton hung up.

  “We go tonight.” Payton answered in the clipped military tone he usually used only to answer a superior officer.

  “Had they been hit?” Dylan asked more pointedly.

  “They were targeted, but no direct hits. The officer just asked us to be there by midnight so we could get all our documentation and settling done before heading to the squadron first thing in the morning. We’ll have to leave in about an hour to get there in time.” Payton reported.

  “At least you didn’t unpack. I’ll run you out to see the girls and then on to Biggin Hill. That should give you the most time to say goodbye.” Timothy offered.

  “Thank you, that’s kind of you.” Dylan genuinely thanked his friend for helping even in the small thing of avoiding a cab ride in the middle of the night.

  Back at the hospital, the boys realized they had no idea which room in the dormitory belonged to Cara and Anne. The doors were locked and they couldn’t simply find a window to tap on in the age old tradition of a boy showing up in the middle of the night. They found the night nurse, a matronly lady advancing in years, who listened to their story sympathetically and knew precisely where to find Anne and Clara.

  “I feared you’d be back tonight.” Anne said with a sigh as she walked out of the dormitories with Clara.

  “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Payton offered in return.

  “Don’t you quote Shakespeare at me.” Clara quipped back, clearly perturbed that their weekend was about to be cut short. “His heroes usually die.”

  “Well, hopefully this isn’t a tragedy then.” Dylan tried to add cheerfully to Clara’s dark proclamation. “The man did write some comedies if I recall.”

  “This is not exactly a midsummer’s night dream, nor is it St. Crispin’s day.” Anne finished the Shakespeare talk. “You must go tonight?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’re to report at midnight.” Payton answered.

  “I wish I could tell you not to go, but duty calls for us all.” Clara relented. “Let’s walk for a minute and then off with you.”

  Dylan and Clara walked north along the street while Payton and Anne turned south. “I guess I’ll just stay here then.” Timothy muttered to himself as he found a bench to wait on.

  “I’m sad to see you go again.” Anne admitted as she and Payton found a blacked-out lamppost to stand under. “This time I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

  “I don’t know how often we’ll get leave. I’d guess it depends on how often we have to fly.” Payton thought out loud.

  “You mean how often the Germans attack.” Anne clarified with just a hint of trepidation in her voice.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Whenever they come whoever is on duty must scramble to meet them. You’ll be working too, and doing something important. Hopefully that will help pass the time.” Payton said.

  “Come visit whenever you can, even if it is just an afternoon. Promise me that. Letter’s won’t do when you are so close.” Anne asked earnestly.

  “I have nowhere else to go. I promise to be here whenever I can, but it is most important for me to cover the air above you.”

  “Thank you, but don’t be a hero. I’d rather take my chances in the bomb shelter and have you back.”

  “If I can, I’ll fly over the hospital whenever possible and waggle my wings. I’ll have Dylan do the same for Clara, so whenever you see the two of us waggling our wings you’ll know we’re on our way back to Biggin Hill and okay. I can’t promise that we’ll always fly by this way, or that we’ll have enough fuel, so don’t worry if you don’t see us, okay?” Payton said to try and ease the fears building in Anne.

  “Yes, of course, it will be reassuring but I won’t worry.” Anne lied for both of their sake. “Now, just hold me here for a moment before you go.”

  “I can offer you one better.” Payton said as he leaned in for a kiss followed by the requested embrace. They lingered there for several minutes, with his arms wrapped around her waist and hers around his neck.

  Dylan and Clara said even less as they sat together on a bus stop bench several blocks in the other direction down the same street. They simply sat together quietly as close as they could. Clara, almost never at a loss for words, didn’t want to express the anxiety she felt at the wrenching departure hanging over them. She felt a black, deep pit in her stomach knowing that Dylan left her to fight this time. She hadn’t felt the same on each of the voyages across to Dunkirk because she knew he wasn’t a combatant, a target. This time, however, she knew any German that even saw him would shoot without hesitation. She’d worried about her brother and father on their clandestine runs before, but knew that they’d mostly have the occasional nasty business partner or pesky law enforcement officer. Thinking even for a moment that Dylan might not return turned her cold in side like no feeling she could have ever fathomed.

  “Come back.” Clara managed to say without breaking down.

  “I will.” Dylan answered with the only words he could manage as well.

  And with that, they walked back to the hospital arm in arm as slowly as they could manage. Payton and Anne arrived at the same time in the same quiet state. After insuring that the ladies safely entered the doors of the hospital, and each lingering for one last kiss, Timothy pulled the car around for the longest ride across town any of them ever imagined. The twins left the army, snuck in to Canada, sailed across the Atlantic with a king, met two women that they loved deeply, helped evacuate an army in retreat, but now they finally stood on the precipice of the challenge they came for. They came to fight the Nazis, and now they would have their chance in the skies over London.

  Chapter 21

  June 22nd, 1940

  The twins arrived at Biggin Hill at the appointed time, and although they hadn’t expected much activity, the airfield was eerily quiet. Timothy bid them good bye in the way most men do, with a slap on the back and a joke, before driving back towards London. Figuring it was their best bet, the twins walked toward the large main building beneath the tower. They walked past a low building labeled WAAF headquarters and another unmarked building with blacked out windows indicating some sort of covert operations inside. They also passed the Officers Club, which they surely to noted for when they sought food other than the mess hall. All of the buildings appeared to date within the last decade or so, including the long standard barracks and the large hangars at the far end of the airstrip. The twins even took the extra time to note the particulars of the air strip, such as where the small lights of the buildings stood in relation to the airstrip and where the windsock flapped to tell them the direction of the wind.

  When they walked in the front door of the command building a WAAF officer greeted them and managed to stay pleasant despite the late hour intrusion. She led the boys to the watch officer.

  “Flying Officers Anders reporting for duty, sir.” The twins said in unison as they saluted the watch officer. The man looked like he might still be young, but the fatigue around his eyes and the rumpled uniform belied his actual age. He half sa
luted the twins back without rising from his chair.

  “Welcome, you will need that kind of energy to keep up here.” The watch officer said flatly. “Thank you for coming in promptly. You’ll be assigned to fighter squadron 8, in the north officers quarters, number 42. I’ve had the supply officer send up flight suits for you based on the sizes you gave me over the phone. They are in the packages at the desk on your way out. Find a bunk in the quarters and rest the remainder of the night. Your commanding officer, Squadron Leader Phillips, will give you the run through in the morning.” The officer finished and indicated for the twins to move along. He probably relished a quiet night before the anticipated storm in the morning. Dylan and Payton begrudged him nothing and quickly followed orders.

  The next morning the twins woke early, with the sun low in the sky, and dressed quietly expecting the rest of the unit to start buzzing about soon. Of course, they found none of the other pilots rose from their beds before the sun climbed several more rungs higher up its endless arc of a ladder. By the time the twins had identified Squadron Leader Phillips and the man had risen, they’d already had breakfast and played catch to pass the time. Squadron Leader Phillips, a bear of a man, came out of the barracks in just an undershirt, pants and suspenders to assess his new pilots.

  “When did you two arrive?” he inquired in a thick Scottish accent. “I wasn’t expecting any new pilots until Monday.”

  “Last night, sir.” Dylan answered. “We heard the bombing in London and called in.”

  “We got a few of those Jerries, all right.” The Squadron Leader grinned quickly and then frowned as he said “but a few of them snuck through. I hope they didn’t hit anyone.”

  “We heard on the radio that the bombs fell mostly in to the Thames, harmlessly.” Payton said. “I suppose they were looking for the blackest area to bomb thinking it was a blacked out factory.”