Spitfire Ringers

by Ian Lindsey

  “Well then, Timothy, thank you for not getting us shot.” Dylan said ruefully as all three burst in to laughter. LeMark just grinned, which was as close as he ever came to laughing.

  After finding all cabs unavailable, either because they were busy picking people up at the pubs or because they knew discretion was the better part of valor and stayed home during the blackout, the trio left LeMark and walked in the general direction of the train station. Nearly an hour later, they found their way in to a small local train stop. Nothing more than a ticket office next to a platform the three happily noticed that their arrival barely preceded the northbound train they heard about a mile away.

  Timothy quickly walked to the blacked-out ticket window and rapped on the glass. Almost as quickly, a small, bald, bespectacled man moved the blackout curtains aside and eyed the three strangers arriving in the middle of the night.

  “London, please.” Timothy said without indulging the man’s curiosity.

  “Papers, then.” The man answered just as curtly.

  “You gents might be in trouble. He wants passports to prove you didn’t just sneak in the country. I’m getting on the train either way.” Timothy answered cheekily while handing his passport over.

  “Not a problem.” The twins answered in unison as they dug in their pockets and produced their military ID cards. “We kept them in case we needed them, though probably would have been smarter to sew them in to clothes we borrowed.” Payton finished.

  The ticket clerk immediately brightened as he saw the RAF cards, but then a questioning looked passed over his face as he compared the cards to the two battered pilots in French farm peasant clothing.

  “We were shot down in France, and just found a boat home.” Dylan furnished by way of explanation without the clerk even asking.

  “Yes yes, I heard something about that. Welcome home, I dearly hope you shoot down many more of those bastards.” The clerk replied in a pleasant, professional tone despite the deadly sentiment. He then quickly issued three tickets and shut the curtain before they could even pay their fare. The three ran for the train as it began pulling away from the station and quickly collapsed in the third class cabin. All three fell asleep before the train had even left the city limits.

  Back at the ticket office, the clerk watched through a slit in the curtain until he was sure the boys had all made their train. Then, he lifted the receiver on the phone and dialed a number he knew from memory.

  “I’ve found them. They are on the 1:30 from Dover.” Was all he said before he hung up.

  ***

  The local train from Dover took much longer than estimated to reach London. However, Dylan, Payton, and Timothy never new it. They slept like logs the whole way, and only woke up when a kindly conductor saw London on their tickets and shook them gently as they pulled in to the station.

  “Splendid.” Timothy said as he stretched and walked down the train stairs to the platform. Dylan and Payton followed along groggily, the newly risen sun forcing them to squint out on the platform. As they exited to the street with no luggage, all three stopped dead in surprise. Mr. Smith, the King’s chauffeur stood at attention next to his prized Lanchester limousine.

  “Welcome home, my boys.” Mr. Smith said with a smile and the slightest glistening of a tear in his eye. The standard British stiff upper lip forbade much more. “If you will follow me, I will take you wherever you please. The King has put me at your disposal until I am to bring you to see him for luncheon at noon.”

  “How on earth did you know we were here?” Dylan asked in amazement.

  “We don’t even know exactly where we are!” Payton added with some exasperation.

  “His Majesty learned of your disappearance from Sir Dowding. Sir Dowding had a Pilot Officer Quarles assigned along to your squadron to keep an eye on you, per the King’s orders.” Mr. Smith explained. “Once you went missing, the King ordered that all rail stations around Dover keep an eye out, in case you made your way backs across. We heard nothing until a ticket clerk in Dover telephoned early this morning. Thus, here I am, at your service.”

  “But of course.” Timothy laughed merrily. “Can you take us to Lady Simone’s then, please?”

  “Yes, please.” Payton said. “As I doubt the tailor is open this early, they will have to take us as we are.”

  The three fell in to the backseat of the limousine and waited impatiently, though politely, as Mr. Smith drove them through the surrounding neighborhoods. Even tired, they stared out the windows at the damage done by the Luftwaffe bombers. Though the bombers mostly attacked military targets, stray bombs still destroyed blocks like the tide destroys sand castles. Whole buildings and blocks reduced to mounds of rubble. The randomness of pristine blocks next to what looked like ancient ruins brought the bombing damage home in stark relief.

  Sensing the changing mood, Mr. Smith commented “Its not as bad as it seems. We carry on, and thanks to you boys and your pilot friends we are giving more than we are getting from the Jerries.” The small consolation felt good, and reignited the small spark of fight in the passengers.

  “Britain must hold on.” Dylan said forcefully. “Hitler must be stopped, on the shores here before we can go back and get him on the continent. We’ll go back and fight. We owe it to the people we care about, the people that risked to get us back here.” He finished with passion rousing him out of the all encompassing fatigue of the last few days.

  Payton nodded agreement with his brother, and then like a child remembering candy in his pocket, he pulled out the papers they’d found in the first machine gun nest on the beaches in France. “We might start here.” Payton said as he spread the sheaf of papers on the floor of the limousine. While running for their lives they hadn’t bothered to look at what they’d picked up. Now, they poured over the papers.

  The first, an order of battle, grabbed their attention immediately and struck them dumb all at once. It was titled “Operation Sea Lion.”

  “I don’t know much, and I don’t speak German, but this looks important.” Timothy said first.

  “It’s an operational plan, from the Wehrmacht.” Dylan said.

  “It’s their plan to invade Britain.” Payton said quietly as he read down the page that consisted of unit strength, arms allotments, deployment plans, and objectives for the first hours of the Germans attempting to recreate 1066 ad and the Norman conquest.

  “Wait, Payton, why would a machine gunner on the beach need these plans. They must be fake.” Dylan said.

  Payton didn’t answer immediately, until he came to a paragraph on the bottom of the third page. “This is why.” He said with a finger pointed at the section titled “Praxis und Probe”

  “That means practice and rehearsal. They must be practicing the water landings on the beach we landed on.”

  “You landed, I crashed.” Dylan joked, even amongst the dark mood.

  “Yes you did. Germany is mostly landlocked. They must want to practice the amphibious assault before crossing the Channel. And it says here, the practice is tonight. They let the gunner know not to shoot his fellow Wehrmacht soldiers. Look, here is the map, along with the marked machine gun points.”

  “Mr. Smith, as much as I hate to say this, could we please re-route. Sir Dowding please. We need to order up an attack for this evening.” Dylan asked.

  “Of course.” Mr. Smith responded, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “I suspect he will be pleased to receive you. He’s usually in early, so I’ll take you straight away.”

  “Quite the find.” Timothy mused with pride at his friends.

  “Yes, if it proves true we might wreck their rehearsal and prove to the Germans that any crossing is a bad idea. At the very least hopefully it will delay them long enough to rebuild the army here after the Dunkirk debacle.” Payton offered up his hopeful analysis in his own rehearsal of what he would say to Sir Dowding.

  “What else have you got in those papers?” Timothy asked.

  “I grabbed all the maps I
could. Each of you grab one of these and see what they say.” Payton handed each the last of the papers.

  “Not much here.” Dylan said immediately. “This was their attack plan around Dunkirk. Useful a month ago, but not much now other than to analyze their tactics.”

  “Mine might as well say Spain is Neutral. It’s a map of southern France with a bold black line along the Spanish border. It must mean, stop here, do not attack.” Timothy said a little dejectedly.

  “One out of three isn’t bad. Mine’s a map of the French coast from Calais up through Normandy. It shows the temporary strong points, and I think these are the new to be built machine gun nests and artillery positions. It’s their Atlantic wall to stop anyone from coming back to the continent. I don’t know who to give this to, but I’m sure Sir Dowding does. That’s two pieces of intelligence. Dylan, crashing might have been the smartest thing you’ve done.” Payton teased his brother with a smile.

  ***

  Nearly two hours later then they originally planned, Mr. Smith dropped his charges off on the steps of Simone’s stately residence.

  Fortunately, the visit to Sir Dowding resulted in at least three successes. The head of the RAF immediately saw the value in attacking the rehearsal and sent one of his deputies off in a hurry to make the attack happen. Medium bombers and ground support attack fighter planes would lay down a formidable barrage on the beaches that night. His only regret was that he couldn’t get the Royal Navy destroyers to steam off the coast close enough to bombard the beach as well. That might have been too much of a giveaway and tipped the Germans to cancel the fake assault.

  The second success, equally important, sent the what had become known as the Atlantic Wall map off to the intelligence department on Baker Street. Sir Dowding figured they would at least find a way to slow down the construction before passing the information on to the military planners for an eventual invasion when it came to that. In his understated way, Sir Dowding praised the boys for giving Britain a fighting chance to not just stay in the war, but win it. “Excellent Show, glad you are back.” Said all that needed to be said.

  Finally, the third success, meant less to the war but more to the twins as they stood before the door. Sir Dowding had arranged for a hot shower, some bandages for their small scrapes and cuts after living on the run, a meal, and clean pressed uniforms for the them to don before returning to their loves.

  Even two hours later, the clock just crossed eight in the morning when Dylan quietly rapped on the door. Nobody said it, but all were thankful the house still stood proud and unbowed by the Luftwaffe attacks. A very professional butler opened the massive oak doors and showed not an ounce of surprise at the three military men standing on the front veranda.

  “Please come in, the ladies are having breakfast in the dining room. I’ll fetch them immediately to the drawing room.” The butler intoned in a stately manner with his deep baritone.

  “Thank you.” They all mumbled as they shuffled in to the drawing room. Anticipation kept them standing, and before long they heard hurried footsteps coming down the hallway.

  Clara burst through the door first. “It is you, thank God!” She said and nearly ran to Dylan, grabbing him tight with no intention of letting go.

  “We do turn up like a bad penny.” Dylan managed to say while holding Clara with equal lack of intention to disentangle the embrace.

  Anne and Simone entered just behind Clara, with similar sentiments and actions. Outside of a few stifled sniffles amid held back tears, the room stayed quiet for a long time as the three couples relished the reunion. The spell broke when Jack entered the room, followed by Maggie. They both looked a little sheepish interrupting such a moment, even if wholly by accident. Payton politely responded first “Maggie, a pleasure to see you again. I don’t believe I know your friend.”

  “That’s my brother, Jack.” Anne said by way of introduction.

  “Captain Fields, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you.” Payton said as he saluted and then shook hands with Jack.

  “The pleasure is all mine.” Jack answered. “Anne must be in heaven with your return, so anyone that makes my sister happy is all right by me. She has told me a lot about you over the last couple of days.” He finished.

  “She spoke of you often as well. I’m so pleased to see you here, alive and well if you don’t mind me saying so.” Payton responded.

  “Not at all, I’m happy to be alive and well, too!” Jack joked back.

  “You boys take nothing seriously.” Simone chided mildly. “But, since we have the morning off, let’s finish breakfast and then we’ll worry about the rest of the day.”

  “That sounds splendid.” Timothy immediately agreed.

  “However” Payton interjected “We do have luncheon plans at noon.”

  “Plans?” Anne asked incredulously. “When did you get back? If you didn’t come straight here you are in deep trouble.”

  “We got back to London at five this morning, and didn’t want to wake you. The plans, however, were made for us before we even returned.” Payton answered a little sheepishly.

  “I’m sure they were.” Clara replied, growing indignant as she looked at Dylan. “Now you are going to tell us that we are having lunch with the king. I don’t care who it is, you aren’t leaving my sight today.”

  “I don’t know this for sure, but I’d say we are all invited. And yes, it is with the King again.” Dylan replied casually.

  “I can’t believe I know you aren’t joking.” Simone replied. “Very well, ladies, we can finish breakfast and I am sure we will find something suitable to wear for luncheon.”

  ***

  The three women wore very fashionable gowns from Simone’s closet. Simone wore a pale ivory clingy sheath with a slight train that clung and draped in all the right places. Anne wore a slightly more traditional yet highly elegant low necked gown in a very pale canary yellow that made her look like the radiant early morning sun. Clara had chosen a slightly daring high wasted gown with cap shoulders in a deep shade of merlot red that offset her hair splendidly. Maggie had rushed home and returned in a blue cap shoulder gown the color of pale blue moonlight. All four were a touch overdressed for midday, but none cared.

  Captain Fields and the twins all donned their dress uniforms. Fortunately, Sir Dowding had provided these for the twins as well, and they were close enough to standard size to not require any tailoring. He would not allow his men to show up shabbily dressed to see the King. Timothy, eschewing the formal top and tails or formal morning wear, wore his tuxedo with a black bow tie.

  Mr. Smith, as ever, arrived at precisely half past eleven. He smiled and said not a word when eight people piled in to the back of the limousine chattering happily like a flock of geese at a family reunion. Despite the daunting tasks ahead, this happy moment belonged just to them, just to the overwhelming relief and gratitude for the safe return despite its temporary status.

  As they arrived at Buckingham Palace Mr. Smith merely opened the door without giving directions. Everyone except Jack and Maggie knew their destination already. They followed the butler quietly, following the rules of any library or museum, for which the Palace surely counted even if the monarch lived there. As they reached the anteroom to the Kings office chambers, his private secretary waved them through.

  “He’s been expecting you, and quite pleased to have you.” The kind man said as they passed through the massive oak doors.

  As if on cue, the king stood from behind his desk and motioned for them to join him on the richly upholstered sofa sets around an equally massive fireplace.

  “I am so very pleased to have you here, safely returned from your, ah, travels I suppose.” King Edward the VI said as he smiled graciously at his guests.

  “Thank you, your Majesty. May I introduce you to Captain Jack Fields, of the Canadian army and Anne’s brother, as well as Lady Margaret Fitzwater, first daughter of the Baron of Dover.” Payton said as he glanced over at Simone, greatly relieved to s
ee her smile and nod approvingly. He hadn’t bungled the titles or introduction, so no hell to pay later.

  “My pleasure to to meet you. Lady Margaret, I’ve met your father and have seen some of his work coming out of Baker Street. Quite remarkable. And Captain Fields, you must have come back over from Dunkirk?”

  “Yes, your Majesty. I’m one of the lucky ones.” Jack replied a little nervously.

  “Indeed, we failed too many men over there.” The King answered like he had a sour taste on his tongue. “I would like, however, a brief report of your activities. I’ve had the basic outline from Sir Dowding, but I’d like to hear anything else you have to add.”

  “Yes, your Majesty, of course. As you seem to know, we crashed on the beaches outside of Le Havre, and then made our way down to the Carentan where we met Timothy, wholly by accident, and hurried our way home. The most important things we saw were of course the maps, and the resistance building in France. The maps show Hitler is building an Atlantic wall, and that he is planning on coming across the Channel as soon as he thinks feasible. I would gather that he is just waiting for the Luftwaffe to soften us up.” Payton responded.

  “I would agree, your Majesty.” Dylan added “And I would also add that the timing is important. If he can’t get wound up for a crossing by early this fall, the weather in the Channel will hold him off until late next spring, at least. That time could be crucial to rebuild your Army.”

  “As for the resistance” Payton picked up where his brother had left off “it would appear that the French, at least on the coastlines, have no love for the Germans. They should be cultivated and supported for use when necessary. In other words, give Baker Street whatever they want.” He finished.

  Timothy shifted a little nervously on his feet at the last comment, and so did Captain Fields. “It would appear that we have a couple of recruits for you.” Payton smiled widely as he said it.

  “Of course, I’ll put in a word with Sir Fitzwater, or perhaps you might, my dear?” The King said to Maggie.

  “Of course, your Majesty. I would be pleased to help both my father and these men.” She said with a twinkle in her eye. She clearly had designs on keeping Captain Fields close at hand.