forward.
"Do you know `~hat he did when those people were driving the car
away?"
"No, tell me."
"He barked, Mr Herriot! Joshua barked!"
Chapter Ten '~ '~.1, :";; The food was so good at the Wink field flying
school that it was said that those airmen whose homes were within
visiting distance wouldn't take a day's leave because they might miss
some culinary speciality. Difficult to believe, maybe, but I often
think that few people in wartime Britain fared as well as the handful
of young men in the scatter of wooden huts on that flat green stretch
outside Windsor.
It wasn't as though we had a French chef, either. The cooking was done
by two grizzled old men civilians who wore cloth caps and smoked pipes
and went about their business with unsmiling taciturnity.
It was rumoured that they were two ex-army cooks from the First World
War, but whatever their origins they were artists. In their hands,
simple stews and pies assumed a new significance and it was possible to
rhapsodise even over the perfect flouriness of their potatoes.
So it was surprising when at lunch time my neighbour on the left drew
down his spoon pushed away his plate and groaned. We ate on trestle
tables, sit ting in rows on long forms, and I was right up against the
young man.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"This apple dumpling is terrific."
"Ah, it's not the grub." He buried his face in his hands for a few
seconds then looked at me with tortured eyes.
"I've been doing circuits and bumps this morning with Rout ledge and
he's torn the knackers off me all the time, it never stopped."
Suddenly my own meal lost some of its flavour. I knew just what he
meant.
FO Wood ham did the same to me.
He gave me another despairing glance then stared straight ahead.
"I know one thing, Jim. I'll never make a bloody pilot."
His words sent a chill through me. He was voicing the conviction which
had been gradually growing in me. I never seemed to make any progress
whatever I did was wrong, and I was losing heart. Like all the others
I was hoping to be graded pilot, but after every session with FO Wood
ham the idea of ever flying an aeroplane all on my own seemed more and
more ludicrous. And I had another date with him at 2 pm.
He was as quiet and charming as ever when I met him till we got up into
the sky and the shouting started again.
"Relax! For heavens sake, relax!" or 'watch your height! Where the
hell d'you think you're going?" or
"Didn't I tell you to centralise the stick? Are you bloody deaf or
something?" And finally, after the first circuit when we juddered to a
halt on the grass.
"That was an absolutely bloody ropy landing! Take off again!"
On the second circuit he fell strangely silent. And though I should
have felt relieved I found something ominous in the unaccustomed peace.
It could mean only one thing he had finally given me up as a bad job.
When we landed he told me to switch off the engine and climbed out of
the rear cockpit. I was about 752 Vet in a Sp~n to unbuckle my straps
and follow him when he signalled me to remain in ny seat.
"Stay where you are," he said.
"You can take her up now."
I stared down at him through my goggles.
"What . . .?"
"I said take her up."
"You mean, on my own . . .? Go solo . . .?"
"Yes, of course. Come and see me in the flight hut after you've landed
an3 taxied in." He turned and walked away over the green. He didn't
look back After a few minutes a fitter came over to where I sat
trembling in my sea' He spat on the turf then looked at me with deep
distaste.
"Look, mate," he said.
"That's a good aircraft you've got there."
I nodded agreement.
"Well I don't want it well smashed up, okay?"
"Okay."
He gave me a final disgusted glance then went round to the propeller.
Panic-stricken though I was, I did not forget the cockpit drill which
had dinned in to me so often. I never thought I'd have to use it in
earnest but I automatically tested the controls rudder, ailerons and
elevator. Fuel switch o~q." throttle closed, then switch on, throttle
slightly open.
i: ~1 ~ Vet in a Spin "Contact!" I cried. ' The fitter swung the
propeller and the engine roared. I pushed the throttld full open and
the Tiger Moth began to bump its way over the grass. As w gathered
speed I eased the stick forward to lift the tail, then as I pulled it b
again the bumping stopped and we climbed smoothly into the air with the
1' dining hut at the end of the airfield fiashing away beneath.
I was gripped by exhilaration and triumph. The impossible had hap pc I
was up here on my own, flying, really flying at last. I had been so
cert ai' failure that the feeling of relief was over-powering. In fact
it intoxicated mt that for a long time I just sailed along, grinning
foolishly to myself.
When I finally came to rny senses I looked down happily over the
side.
must be time to turn now, but as I stared downwards cold reality began
to raU over me in a gather ing flood. I couldn't recognise a thing in
the great hazy tapestry beneath me. And every thing seemed smaller
than usual. Dry-mouthq4 I looked at the altimeter. I was well over
2,000 feet. ii And suddenly it came to me that FO ~loodham's shouts
had not bee, meaningless; he had been talking sense, giving me good
advice, and as soon 611 I got up in the air by myself I had ignored it
all. I hadn't lined myself up on a cloud, I hadn't watched my
artificial horizon, I hadn't kept an eye on the} altimeter. And I was
lost.
It was a terrible feeling, this sense of utter isolation as I
desperately sc anne.
the great cheque red landscape for a familiar object. What did you do
in a cal.
like this? Soar around southern England till I found some farmer's
field b.
enough to land in, then make my own abject way back to Wink field? But
this way I was going to look the complete fool, and also I'd stand an
excellent chaa.
of smashing up that fitter's beloved aeroplane and maybe myself. i;~
It seemed to me that one way or another I was going to make a name St
myself. Funny things had happened to some of the other lads many had
W~ air-sick and vomited in the cockpit, one had gone through a hedge,
another his first solo had circled the airfield again and again seven
times he had gd~ round trying to find the courage to land while his
instructor sweated blood ;~ cursed on the ground. But nobody had
really got lost like me. Nobody had flo~ q into the blue and returned
on foot without his aeroplane. ~ ' v visions of my immediate fate were
reaching horrific proportions and~ ~as hammering uncontrollably when
far away on my left I spotted;!
.:] dear familiar bulk of the big stand on Ascot racecourse. Almost
weeping with joy, I turned towards it and within minutes I was banking
above its roof as I had done so often.
And there, far below and approaching with uncomfortable speed was the
belt of trees which fringed the airfield and beyond, the windsock blow
ing over the wide green. But I was still far too high I could never
drop down there in time to hit that landing strip, I would have to go
round again.
The ignominy of it went deep. They would all be watching on the ground
and some would have a good laugh at the sight of Herriot over-shooting
the field by several hundred feet and cruising o~q. again into the
clouds. But what was I thinking about? There was a way of losing
height rapidly and, bless you FO Wood ham, I knew how to do it.
Opposite rudder and stick. He had told me a hundred times how to side
slip and I did it now as hard as I could, sending the little machine
slewing like an airborne crab down, down towards those trees.
And by golly it worked! The green copse rushed up at me and before I
knew I was almost skimming the branches. I straightened up and headed
for the long stretch of grass. At fifty feet I rounded out then
checked the stick gradually back till just above the ground when I
slammed it into my abdomen. The undercarriage made contact with the
earth with hardly a tremor and I worked the rudder bar to keep straight
until I came to a halt. Then I taxied in, climbed from the cockpit and
walked over to the flight hut.
FO Wood ham was sit ting at a table, cup in hand, and he looked up as I
entered. He had got out of his flying suit and was wearing a battle
dress jacket with the wings we all dreamed about and the ribbon of
the
DFC.
"Ah, Herriot, I'm just having some con-tee. Will you join me?"
"Thank you, sir."
I sat down and he pushed a cup towards me.
"I saw your landing," he said.
"Delightful, quite delightful."
"Thank you, sir."
"And that side-slip." One corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
"Very good indeed, really masterly."
He reached for the coffee pot and went on.
"You've done awfully well, Herriot Solo after nine hours' instruction,
eh ? Splendid. But then I never had the slightest doubt about you at
any time."
He poised the pot over my cup.
"How do you like your coffee black or ? ~ Chapter Eleverz I was only
the third man in our Flight of fifty to go solo and it was a matter of
particular pride to me because so many of my comrades were eighteen and
nineteen year olds. They didn't say so but I often had the impression
that they felt that an elderly gentleman like me in my twenties with a
wife and baby had no right to be there, training for air crew. In the
nicest possible way they thought I was past it.
Of course, in many ways they had a point. The pull I had from home
was
probably stronger than theirs. When our sergeant handed out the
letters on the daily parade I used to secrete mine away till I had a
few minutes of solitude to read about how fast little Jimmy was
growing, how much he weighed, the unmistakable signs of outstan ding
intelligence, even genius, which Helen could ~ already discern in
him.
I was mis sing his babyhood and it saddened me. It is still something
I deeply: .
regret because it comes only once and is gone so quickly. But I still
have the.
bundles of letters which his proud mother wrote to keep me in touch
with every: fascinating stage, and when I read them now it is almost as
though I had been .
there to see it all.
At the time, those letters pulled me back almost painfully to the
comforts of home but on the other hand there were occasions when life
in Darrow by hadn~t been all that comfortable. . .
I think it was the early morning calls in the winter which were the
worst It .
was a fairly common experience to be walking sleepy-eyed into a cow
byre at 6 am for a calving but at Mr Black burn's farm there was a
difference. In fact several differences.
Firstly, there was usually an anxious-faced farmer to greet me with the
news of how the calf was coming, when labour had started, but today I
was like an ~ unwelcome st ranger. Secondly, I had grown accustomed to
the sight of a few ~ l cows tied up in a cobbled byre with wooden
partitions and an oil lamp, and now I was gazing down a long avenue of
concrete under blazing electric light with ~: a seemingly endless
succession of bovine backsides protruding from tubular metal stan
dings. Thirdly, instead of the early morning peace there was a .
clattering of buckets, the rhythmic pulsing of a milking machine and
the blaring of a radio loudspeaker. There was also a frantic scurrying
of white-coated,~, white-capped men, but none of them paid the
slightest attention to me. f tc This was one of the new big dairy
farms. In place of a solitary figure on a~ milk stool, head buried in
the cow's side, pulling forth the milk with a gentle : 'hiss-hiss'
there was this impersonal hustle and bustle. .
I stood just inside the doorway while out in the yard a particularly
cold snow .
drifted from the blackness above. I had left a comfortable bed and a
warm wife to come here and it seemed somebody ought at least to say
'hello'. Then I noticed~: :: the owner hurrying past with a bucket. He
was moving as fast as any of his .
men.
"Hey, Mr Black burn!" I cried.
"You rang me you've got a cow calving?" :"~!"Z He stopped and looked
at me uncomprehendingly for a moment.
"Oh aye .-:R:: . . . aye . . . she's down there on ttright." He
pointed to a light roan animal half ,~: way along the byre. She was
easy to pick out the only one Iying down. ~Y~: "How 1~- as she been
on?"I asked, but when I turned round Mr Black burn ~.i~.
had gr`- "d after him, cornered him in the milk house and repeated my :
qtl
_A, ~ 0 ~.
,~e calved last night. Must be sum mat amiss." He began to)~: ~k over
the cooler into the churn.
.~ ~, inside her?"
.r~ ~A~ ~on, He turned harassed eyes towards me.
"We're a bit ~ ~ ~ 49A ~ ~ ~ruin'. We can't be late for t'milk man."
.s, al~ ~ ~ 9 ~ the drivers who collected the churns for the big da'
his firs~O~ 5; ~c~ ~of men. Probably kind husbands and fathers round
truculant outbursts of rage if they were kept waitig cursed on the
grilL. ~9, '~^ Nine them, because they had a lot of territot~ into the
blue and~ '. ^ t I had seen them when provoked and tint.
~v visions of my imme~. t~ ~as hammerina uncontru~oot water. soaD
and a towel. nlease?"-~~4 vez zn a opzn 1~) ~from Black burn jerked
his head at the corner of the milk house.
"You'll 'ave to help yourself. There's every thin' there. Ah must get
on." He went off again at a brisk walk. Clearly he was more in fear
of the milk man than he was of me.
I filled a bucket, found a piece of soap and threw a towel over my
shoulder.
VVhen I reached my patient I lo
oked in vain for some sign of a name. So
many of the cows of those days had their names printed above their
stalls but there were no Marigolds, Al ices or Snowdrops here, just
numbers.
Before taking off my jacket I looked casually in the ear where the
tattoo marks stood out plainly against the creamy white surface. She
was number eighty seven.
I was in more trouble when I stripped off my shirt. In a modern byre
like this there were no nails jutting from the walls to serve as
hangers. I had to roll my clothes into a ball and carry them through
to the milk house. There I found a sack which I tied round my middle
with a length of binder twine.
Still ignored by everybody, I returned, soaped my arm and inserted it
into the cow. I had to go a long way in to reach the calf, which was
st range considering the birth should have taken place last night. It
was the top of the little creature's head I touched first; the nose was
tucked downwards instead of thrusting its way along the vagina towards
the outside world, and the legs were similarly coiled under the body.
And I noticed something else. The entry of my arm did not provoke any
answering strain from the cow, nor did she try to rise to her feet.
There was something else troubling Number Eighty Seven.
Lying flat on the concrete, still buried to the shoulder in the cow, I
raised my head and looked along the shaggy back with its speckle of
light red and white hairs, and when I reached the neck I knew I need
seek no further. The lateral kink was very obvious. Number Eighty
Seven, slumped on her chest, was gazing wearily and without interest at
the wall in front of her but there was that funny little bend in her
neck that told me every thing.
I got up, washed and dried my arm and looked for Mr Black burn. I
found him bending by the side of a fat brown animal, pulling the cups
from her teats.
I tapped him on the shoulder.
"She's got milk fever." I said.
"Oh aye," he replied, then he hoisted the bucket, brushed past me and
made off down the byre.
I kept pace with him.
"That's why she can't strain. Her uterus has lost its tone. She'll
never calve till she gets some calcium."
"Right." He still didn't look at me.
"Ye'll give 'er some, then?"
"Yes," I said to his retreating back.
The snow still swirled in the outer darkness and I toyed with the idea
of get ting dressed. But I'd only have to strip again so I decided to
make a dash for it. With the car boot open it seemed to take a long
time to fish out the bottles and Rutter valve with the flakes settling
thickly on my naked flesh.
Back in the byre I looked around for a spare man to help me but there
was no lessening of the feverish activity. I would have to roll this
cow onto her side and inject into her milk vein without assistance. It
all depended on how comatose she was.
And she must have been pretty far gone because when I braced my feet
against the tubular steel and pushed both hands against her shoulder
she flopped over without resistance. To keep her there I lay on top of
her as I pushed in the needle and ran the calcium into the vein.
One snag was that my sprawling position took me right underneath the
neighbouring cow on the right, a skittish sort of animal who didn't
welcome the rubber-booted legs tangling with her hind feet. She
expressed her disapproval by treading painfully on my ankles and giving
me a few smart kicks on the thigh, but I dared not move because the
calcium was flowing in beautifully When the bottle was empty I kneed my
patient back onto her chest and ran another bottle of calcium magnesium
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