by Ian Lindsey
“It sounds like the raid is coming to an end. The blasts are receding and further apart.” Dylan noted.
“We’ll start seeing overflow patients if they can’t handle them in whatever hospital is closest to the bombing.” Anne said quietly in an almost resigned voice. However, she added with more vigor “We best go check in the with the head nurse to see if they need us. You boys can stay here while we are out.” She finished with a smile at the thought of coming back to them soon. And with that, the girls who had left their last shift only a short time before found the resolve to head back to the hospital floors where they could help.
Dylan and Payton sadly watched the girls leave, but then sacked out quickly in their beds and fell asleep with the sweet, delicate smell of their loved one taking them off in to a much needed rest. Although they eagerly served, the first week flying mostly routine patrols showed the twins what lay ahead in the form of utter boredom occasionally punctuated by heart pounding bursts of adrenaline whenever they spotted an enemy flight. They hammered the mix of tension and fear down so they could function as credible pilots. Neither spoke much of the mettle required for such a task, but they knew they at least had each other, which helped more than any of the other new pilots could know. Escaping the tension for just a few hours could only recharge them in their resolve to fight.
The clock passed midnight before Anne and Clara returned. In a minor scandal, at least if the head nurse found out, they simply slide in to bed beside the warm bodies they adored and thanked the Lord that they could rest, together again for at least a few more hours. However, the sun lifted itself above the horizon early, as it was wont to do in the summer, and bade Dylan and Payton back to their squadron. They both quietly readied themselves to leave so as not to wake the ladies. Each leaned in for a whispered goodbye and a quick peck promising to return as soon as they could manage. Anne and Clara both managed the universal half asleep smile and goodbye before falling back in to their dreams.
With that, Dylan and Payton snuck out of the hospital dorms and found their way back to their squadron.
***
Timothy had very little trouble procuring a case of bushmills for Flight Sergeant Blinn the first time a week prior, and he was only too happy to oblige is American friends for their defense of The Realm. Now, however, Timothy wanted to show off a bit for both Flight Sergeant Blinn and the twins. Timothy walked in to a shoemakers shop just off of Picadilly Circus on the way to Leicester Square. As it happened, the shop owner had a cousin in America willing to ship him cases of the American whiskey made by Jack Daniels. Timothy had no idea whether the stuff was any good, but he thought he’d at least let Flight Sergeant Blinn give it a taste so as to link the yankee whisky with the yankee pilots whenever they needed help. He might even save a bottle for himself and Simone, Timothy thought.
Timothy adored Simone, but he’d never let it show. He figured as soon as she knew then she’d want to move on to something different. For her class, the hunt held more appeal than the kill. As luck would have it, Simone wanted to meet for dinner that night before he left. Rationing cut deeply in to the usual lifestyle Simone generally led, but when she rang him earlier her convivial request clearly communicated something special afoot. After a show of trying to rearrange his schedule to accommodate her, Timothy gladly accepted. Now he just needed an acceptable offering to thank her.
“Hello Tim!” the shopkeeper greeted him warmly.
“Mr. Cain, a pleasure as always. I’m always pleased to see you. Let me say again how much I appreciate your help in this matter. Nothing is too good for our boys protecting the city!” Timothy responded.
“Only the Lord knows what the city would look like without them. It’s bad enough as it is. Anymore and I’m afraid the blitz would break the city forever.” Mr. Cain sighed heavily.
“I don’t think Old London will break that easily.” Timothy offered sympathetically.
“But, you are correct; we can take all the help we can get. Speaking of help, I might ask for a small bit of further help from you. I’m to escort a find young lady to dinner tonight. I’m not sure where, but I was hoping to be a proper gentleman for once and not show up empty handed. Have you anything that might fit the bill?”
“You have splendid timing, my young friend. I happen to have the scarcest thing to a fine young lady. Silk stockings are as rare as gold these days. The military requisitioned all they silk to make parachutes.” The shopkeeper grinned somewhat sheepishly talking so candidly about a garment so particular to the ladies.
“Brilliant!” Timothy exclaimed, but on consideration asked “You don’t think it too forward to offer to a young lady? Her class far outranks mine.”
“Times change, Tim, her smile at the gift will outweigh any impropriety. Take them my boy, and I hope they bring her great joy. You will certainly have paid for them after we confirm our other delivery.” However, Timothy wasn’t bringing anything to Mr. Cain’s shop. He was delivering for him, in France.
***
“How on earth did you get these?” Simone asked. Stunned at the coveted gift, she wore the silk stockings that evening. “I’d dreaded pulling on my old pair one more time, but our destination simply calls for a finer dress than one can get away with bare-legged. Your suit looks smashing, and will fit in perfectly. I’ve reservations for us at the Savoy.”
“Excellent choice, my dear. I so enjoyed our last time there with our friends.” Timothy offered back a bit sheepishly. “I hope you did as well.”
“I enjoyed my time there with you, very specifically, that is why I chose it.” Simone said with just a hint of a smile on her reserved, aristocratic face. “Let’s walk, though, such a beautiful evening shouldn’t be wasted before you leave.” With both hearts buoyed by the thought of such a fine evening ahead, Simone took Timothy’s arm as they emerged in to the warm summer’s eve.
Chapter 23
July 3rd, 1940
Payton and Dylan pointed the nose of their aircraft up and climbed in to a sky wild with late afternoon sunshine. With the memory of the night in London providing mixed feelings from seeing the girls but also hearing the bombing, the twins felt even more urgency to propel themselves into the fight. With Anne and Clara below each sortie took on personal meaning. Still, no German managed to wander through their crosshairs the two days previously. Today would be different.
Not twenty minutes in to their leisurely racetrack loops around their station in the sky Chain Home Station radioed a heading directing them over the city and out to sea to intercept a flight of German bombers headed directly at London. The twins curved out of their pattern behind their flight lead and followed a half dozen other planes in formation slightly south of east. Several of the other pilots chattered on the radio in anticipation until Squadron Leader Phillips ordered radio silence until spotting the enemy. The other pilots were veterans, but the surge of adrenaline from an imminent fight caused some men to verbalize everything. Payton and Dylan were in fact the opposite. They tempered their adrenaline with silence and continually scanned the skies above, below, and ahead for enemy aircraft while occasionally stealing a glance at each other. Each knew exactly where the other flew at all times, but it never hurt to check.
Finally, Dylan broke the silence and called out “Bogies at 11 o’clock, slightly low.”
Squadron Leader Phillips replied “Thank you gentlemen, guns free, Tally Ho!” And with that, Dylan and Payton took up arms against the Nazis.
Payton followed Dylan as he altered courses slightly to his left to match the incoming Luftwaffe flight. At such a distance, they looked like small dark specks moving in unison high above the glistening waters below, something like bugs on a lake. The RAF squadron garnered two further pieces of luck in that the radars at Chain Home Command had directed them on target, and also in that the pristine weather allowed them to see the combatants while the sun obscured their position from behind. The luck held only until the Spitfires closed to within a mile of the attacking
squadron before the Messerschmitts detected the threat and rose to protect the lumbering bombers. Payton estimated eight Messerschmitt BF-109s and two dozen or more heavy Heinkel bombers.
As the northern most element of the squadron, Dylan and Payton settled in to attack the left most enemy flights. “Just like reading a book, we’ll attack left to right.” Dylan directed over the radio.
“Yeah, but let’s flip lead attacker every other. The wingman can get a quicker jump on the next plane that way.” Payton concluded. The twins had come up with a serviceable strategy in the moment, and now looked to play out the action in their first real fight.
Enemy canon fire began exploding between their two planes, reminding the pair of the fire superiority they heard rumors about. The Messerschmitt BF-109 could not match the Spitfire for pure speed, but still carried its own advantages, such as a smaller turning radius, and of particular interest to the twins at the moment a heavier armament in the form of a single ballistic cannon fired through the nose cone. Dylan and Payton immediately took evasive action and banked hard right, then ducked back to the left to maintain an attacking course. Dylan let loose with a short machine gun burst to remind the enemy that he intended to fight, though the head-on closing attitude and speed left little hope of a direct hit.
As the three planes (of the many in the sky) converged at a closing speed roughly equal to the speed of sound the twins split horizontally to try and loop behind the fighter while the German went in to a vertical loop to try and gain the advantage. From the ground, it looked as if the three planes traced out a three-leaf clover. Unfortunately for the German, his vertical loop took longer than the horizontal loop the twins traced and Dylan timed his shot perfectly as he rounded in to place behind the enemy aircraft. The tracers found their mark in the tail and wing and Bf 109 burst into a mighty fireball.
Anticipating his brother’s success, Payton immediately banked back to the right and found two more Luftwaffe planes immediately in his sights enroute too late to help their fallen brethren. Through luck and no skill, he found himself in perfect firing position. Through skill and no luck, he brought down the first, then second attackers with short machine gun bursts.
“Leftenants, we have engaged the remainder of the fighters, please turn your attention to the bombers before they cross the coast.” Squadron Leader Phillips clipped out as an order over the radio. With a simple click of the radio in the affirmative Dylan and Payton reformed up quickly and turned for the flight of two dozen bombers below. If they could bring down some of these giants, then perhaps the rest of the squadron and the anti-aircraft fire over the city could finish off the rest before any bombs could lay waste to lives and structures below.
“Best to take two at a time each, if we can.” Payton radioed his brother. “They’ll be in upper and lower tiers, so you take the left and I’ll take the right, upper to lower. Be careful of the tail gunners.” He finished.
“Roger!” was the only response he received. Both aircraft roared like mechanical lions as they dove towards the bombers while herking and jerking to avoid the maelstrom of machine gun fire aimed at their death. Dylan lined up the farthest left bomber and fired a sustained stream, then re-aimed and fired at the next bomber down until his machine guns clicked loudly from a lack of ammunition. He’d fired every bullet he had. Both German planes sagged, and then seemed to peel off to the left before settling in to fiery death spirals towards the sea. Dylan didn’t wait to see if any men were able to escape as he continued his dive and raced to the wave tops to avoid any further fighting while out of bullets.
Dylan didn’t have to wait at all until he sensed more than saw his brother on his wing. Payton had followed the exact same route, taking out two bombers, on the right side of the formation and now both were headed back to Biggin Hill elated to survive their first battle, but worried about the bombers still in the sky. They prayed first that none arrive over the city, and if they did that the bombs would miss the hospital holding Clara and Anne. They raced over the city ahead of any bombers to avoid the anti-aircraft fire that would thunder to life as soon the Luftwaffe appeared. At the last moment, the twins deviated slightly from the direct heading to the aerodrome. They flew right over the hospital and waggled their wings slightly just in case the girls watched from below. Both hoped that they already sat in a bomb shelter that would prove unnecessary.
His heart rate slowing as he approached the airfield with the adrenaline wearing off, Dylan asked his brother “Did we miss anything?”
“Yes, we ran out of bullets.” Payton answered quickly. “If we can hit the weaknesses in the Messerschmitt with fewer rounds expended, then we can attack more bombers. I think we wasted some early shots.” He concluded.
Although they’d put a dent in the bandits, Dylan knew his brother was right. Cold hearted as it may be, their job was to shoot down as many of the enemy as possible. The euphoria of the first battle dissipated as both twins landed smoothly, and the self-reflection left a hollow, cold pit gnawing at each stomach as they taxied off the runway. Flight Sergeant Blinn indicated that they should taxi to the hangar, and that red section had already scrambled so they wouldn’t take off again immediately.
Payton crawled out of his cockpit after parking outside the hangar just as Flight Sergeant Blinn ambled up to the inspect the Spitfire.
“Looks like you did okay for your first fight.” The Sergeant stated flatly. “But you brought my new plane back with holes.” He finished gesturing at several quarter size bullet holes in the tail section of Payton’s plane.
“I didn’t even know I’d been hit.” Payton admitted. “I don’t know if they are from the bombers’ machine guns or the Messerschmitt.”
Dylan walked over just then “I’ve got holes in mine too.” He sheepishly divulged.
“Most come back with more holes than this. You’ve done well. From the radio reports it sounds like you each got two bombers, and one of you got one fighter while the other got two. That will put you on the path to ace shortly.” Flight Sergeant Blinn informed them.
“It looks like we’re the first back, have you heard how the rest of the squadron made out?” Dylan asked.
“Or if any of the bombers got through?” Payton asked before Flight Sergeant Blinn could answer, but then heard his answer in the form of a low rumble a long ways off. “Oh no.” he sighed quietly.
“Heads up boys.” Flight Sergeant Blinn answered. “We can’t get them all. But that was the sound of a job well down. The explosion you just heard came from the southeast, over water. I’d wager a bomber was hit and dropped its payload to lighten up and head home. As for the rest of the squad, they are headed home now. One or two are limping, but should have no problem getting back safely. We’ll have everyone patched up for morning, including your two swiss cheese tails. London should sleep well tonight after the bloody nose we’ve given those Jerrys today!” He finished triumphantly.
Heartened by the words of encouragement, Dylan and Payton walked back to the squad room in silence, each lost in his own thoughts at what they’d accomplished that day. They knew they’d have to survive many more days like this one to survive the war. Wave after wave of Luftwaffe fighters and bombers crashed against the thin RAF line in their heads like sledgehammer blows aimed at crushing not just the physical war making machines on the island, but their will to fight as well. Winston Churchill called this the Battle of Britain, and now the twins knew why.
Chapter 24
July 4th, 1940
Both Anne and Clara vaguely understood that it was an American holiday that might be important to the twins, but neither cared much at the moment. Though the clock hands indicated midmorning, and the sun indicated the truthfulness of the clock, both nurses fought off yawns and fluttering eyes as they attempted attentive wakefulness amidst the disheartening ward around them. The vicious air battle successfully diverted the afternoon before over London only presaged more brutal attacks at other ports and airfields. The overflow of wounded in
various states of blood and shock soon flowed steadily in to their hospital. They spent the night triaging patients, bandaging wounds, and soothing souls long after their original shift had ended.
The charge nurse eventually issued orders “Off with the both of you. You’ve done enough for today and are no more use.” She intoned sternly, but with a hint of thanks and admiration for the hard work. “I shall see you again tomorrow morning. No arguing.”
“I’m so tired I’m not sure I can sleep now.” Anne said as they changed out of their uniforms. “Let’s go for a walk, if you are up for it.” She suggested.
“Of course.” Clara responded. “Laying around our room will do us no good now. Better to try and make it through the day and aim for a full night’s sleep.” Clara finished, leaving unsaid the two thoughts that it would be the first full night’s sleep in a week and that the Germans might interrupt their plans anyway.
As they walked out to the sidewalk and headed towards the river both could feel the sun begin to break through their own grey overcast of the previous night. Neither hurried too quickly, so they enjoyed a leisurely stroll along the sidewalk headed south from St. Thomas’. They spoke little of work, and little of the boys they both missed dreadfully. Simple banter floated lightly behind them as they forgot all their cares in the world.
“Tell me more about Canada.” Clara prompted.
“Only if you tell me more about Ireland” Anne responded.
“Lovely my dear, not only shall I tell you about it, the next chance we have we can sneak off from here and I’ll show you Dublin at the very least.”
“That does sound tempting. Let’s go right now.” Anne joked with a sigh. “Well, I grew up on a ranch in Alberta, one of our western provinces. Its about an hour south of Calgary, on the eastern side of the Rocky Mountains. Father inherited the ranch from his father, he called it Fog Ranch, for Fields of Gold. Grandfather loved that because it was a play on the grazing land around us and the family name.” Anne said.