Beaufighter Blitz

by Russell Sullman

  Rose sat back, trying not to fidget, heart thumping.

  Come on then, what have you got for me?

  The old man scrutinised the paper carefully, “Mm. Yes. Have you nay experience flying aircraft with more than one engine, Rose?”

  Oh no. Oh my God. Blenheim fighters. Oh God…

  Rose’s thumping heart sank again. The thought of flying the poorly performing Blenheim fighter horrified him. Against the aircraft of the Luftwaffe’s fighter arm, it would be like flying something with the dogfighting capability of a lump of lard.

  Fuck me…

  He realised that the senior officer was still looking at him expectantly, awaiting a response. Right then, “Oh, er, no experience at all, sir, I’m afraid.”

  Give me something else, please…

  The Group Captain’s eyes and mouth crinkled when he smiled. “Not to worry, my dear boy, we can soon sort that out. I’m going to arrange a quick conversion course for you at 17 OTU, should have a veteran like you up to speed in about a month or so.”

  Conversion course? Oh no! Bloody hell!

  “Um, I’m not sure about this, sir…”

  The Group Captain shook his head in surprise. “Good Lord, man, I thought you were keen to go and fight! You were set on giving Hun a bloody nose a moment ago.”

  “I’ve experience in flying Hurricanes, sir, as you know. I know and understand single-engine fighters. I’m not sure that I’m suitable for Blenheims.”

  “Blenheims? Blenheims? Who said anything about Blenheims?” His voice rose quaveringly, “What’re you gibbering about, Rose? I want you to fly night fighters, man! Beaufighters, not bally Blenheims!” He looked around furtively, as if Goebbels himself might be concealed in the dusty shadows of the cold and empty grate, lowering his voice and leaning forward conspiratorially.

  “Well, you’ll begin by flying Blenheims for a wee while, of course, but only for training, but do keep it under your hat, old man, all a bit hush hush, y’know. You’ll find out why soon enough.”

  Yippee! A thrill of anticipation and excitement streaked through Rose, and his fingertips tingled as he tried to control himself.

  Nightfighters! Beaufighters! He felt like bouncing up and down on the chair. Like many of his contemporaries, Rose had heard stories of the rugged new heavily armed twin-engine fighter.

  And he would get the chance to fly one! Rose smiled at the thought.

  “Ah, I see that’s perked you up a bit, hasn’t it?” the Group Captain settled back onto his chair, reached for his teacup, shook it then looked into it, and then sadly placed it back onto its saucer. “No tea!” he reached for his telephone and spoke to his secretary, “Morag, be a love and please bring us some more tea, right?” he nodded at the telephone receiver, “Oh, and some of those very lovely biscuits? Hm? Oh yes, please. Thank you, my dear.”

  He gently replaced the receiver, and looked back up at Rose, “Your experience as a fighter pilot will hold you in good stead, Rose. You’re invaluable. No, don’t be bashful, man. It’s true, we both know it. We need experienced men like you flying our night fighters. The beastly Hun is doing the majority of his bombing at night now, thanks to you boys, so we need skilled men to intercept and destroy him in the darkness.”

  The Group Captain beamed. “We’ve got some clever ideas in the pipeline, but hunting at night is going to be the very devil of a job. It won’t be the same as a bounce in daylight. You won’t be able to see very much.” He raised grey eyebrows and sucked in his lips.

  “D’you think you’re up to the job? There’s no shame if this isn’t for you. You’ve earned a rest.”

  Rose squared his shoulders manfully, “I can do it, sir. Let me have a crack at it, please.”

  “Good man, your experience will be very useful. I’ll issue the orders for the twin-engine conversion course; you should hear something within forty-eight hours.”

  The Group Captain smiled and nodded gently, “She speaks very highly of you. Said you’re a good man. I think you’ll do well, young man.”

  She? Who might the Group Captain mean, wondered Rose. It was the second time that he had mentioned that a mystery woman had spoken well of him. “Sir, may I ask who it is that has spoken of me to you?”

  The gentle smile warmed, “Forgive me, Rose.” He winked, “Or perhaps I should call you Flash? You served with my niece at Foxton last year. She’s married to Squadron-Leader Denis. I believe he was your flight commander on Excalibur squadron last year?”

  For the first time, Rose noticed the name plate on the desk, and it read: ‘Group Captain Derek Edward Atkins OBE MC MiD CdeG RAF.’

  Oh! Oh! Of course!

  Dingo Denis and the lovely Dolly! Memories of a smiling Australian newly promoted to Squadron Leader, eyes crinkling with pleasure and strong white teeth bright in a tanned face, with his lovely blushing bride, both blissfully happy despite all they had seen and suffered.

  So Group Captain Atkins was Dolly’s Uncle! Good Lord! He must have known all the time that Rose would jump at the chance of going back into battle! The old duffer had been sounding him out.

  “I must say, sir, that it was a mite unfair of you. You knew who I was all the time.” Rose remarked reproachfully.

  “Not really, I needed to see that it was the right thing for you, and now that we’ve met, I know that it is. You went through a rather a lot in a very short time, and you might not have been as ready as you think you are.”

  True enough, Rose pondered silently. Am I ready? I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

  “So, tell me about the Beaufighters, sir?”

  “They pack a fearsome punch, and you’ll be part of a two man team. That’s all you need to know for now. You’ll need to complete the conversion course first, old man, and you’ll crew up there, too. You might get to fly Blenheims, but as I said, it’ll only be for training purposes. Got to bring you up to speed on twin-engines kites. Slowly, slowly, catchee monkee, eh, what? Don’t run before you can walk, eh?”

  “Two-man team, sir?” Oh, Lor’! I’m not sure I like the sound of that.

  There was a knock on the door and a young Wren poked her head through. “Tea’s ready, sir, may I bring it in?”

  Dark shoulder length hair, grey eyes and a soft lilting Scottish burr that awoke memories of Skye.

  “Ah, Morag, thank you, thank you. Please do bring it in, my dear, there’s a good girl.”

  Morag carefully brought in a tray loaded with tea and biscuits, and laid it gingerly on the horrendously cluttered desk, “Please sir, let me clean up in here? It’ll be a lot easier to find things, then.” The tray began to slowly slide to one side and she grabbed it hurriedly.

  “Good gracious, my dear girl, if I let you at my papers I won’t know where anything is, so I daren’t. Don’t worry your sweet little head, it’s all under control.”

  Morag tsked-tsked and shook her head reprovingly, but said nothing more, balancing the tray carefully.

  Rose contemplated her pert bottom with interest as she laid down the tray in front of the Group Captain, who nodded approvingly after surveying the contents.

  Very nice, very nice indeed, thought Rose, completing his own detailed survey of Morag’s delightfully curved buttocks.

  But his palms had cupped and caressed smooth buttocks even lovelier than Morag’s this very morning, and that lovely bottom continued to feel simply magnificent beneath his fingers and his lips, even after two whole months of decidedly wonderful married bliss.

  She still tasted absolutely amazing, too. Every part of her, like a sweet and juicy fruit, fragrant and wonderful.

  That was one gorgeous bum that he’d never tire of fondling or caressing or kissing.

  But then, the same was true of course for the rest of his slender dark-haired beauty for that matter. Every time they touched, he tingled with joy.

  And then he felt ashamed, there was so much more to the girl than just her magnificent body. So much more.

  I love her for all that
she is.

  Harry Rose, happily married man, sitting in the Air Ministry and lusting like a schoolboy after a pretty girl.

  Morag turned to go, caught his eyes lingering on her bottom and smiled warmly at him.

  She stopped at the door and looked back, her pale cheeks pink and those clear grey eyes on Rose, “If you need anything else, sir, just ask.”

  The eyes momentarily flicked fondly for a moment to Atkins as he fussed over his papers, before returning to meet Rose’s, “Anything at all. Please do ask.”

  Atkins, reaching for the prize of the teapot and thinking she was speaking to him, looked up and shook his head, “Awfully kind, Morag, but this’ll do very nicely, ta very much.”

  The girl disappeared, closing the door quietly behind her. His eyes remained on the closed door for a moment.

  Oops. Mustn’t look, you’re a wedded man now, best behave like one, mate. Besides, you’re married to the bravest, sweetest, most beautiful girl in the world.

  Nothing else compares.

  But a secret part of him was pleased by the girl’s interest. And her eyes had dared him. And that bum looked rather delectable…

  Stop it.

  Atkins brandished the teapot triumphantly like a trophy. “Can I offer you a cuppa, Rose?”

  “Oh, thank you very much, sir, that’s very tempting, but I’ve arranged to meet someone.”

  “Of course. You’re sure? Digestive? No? Well then. It’s been a great pleasure to meet you, old chap. Good luck on the conversion course. I’m sure you’ll do well. You’ll get your posting at the end of the course. In the meantime, I’ll get Morag to start things off.”

  Oo-er, daren’t start anything with Morag! There’s a rather delectable WAAF Flight Officer who might boil my balls in bleach if I dared to!

  “Thank you very much, sir,” Rose said earnestly, “I’m very grateful for the opportunity. I’ll wait for the orders to come through. If that’s all?” He got to his feet, retrieved his cap and stick, and turned to go.

  “I’m glad to be of help, dear boy. By the way, Dolly and Dingo send their best.” He picked up the sugar and plopped two heaped teaspoons of sugar into his tea, pondered, then added a third.

  “Please do thank them for me, sir, and pass on my very warmest regards to them.”

  Rose reached for the door knob.

  “Oh, and Rose?”

  He stopped, his hand still on the doorknob, and turned to Atkins, eyebrows raised questioningly. “Sir?”

  The Group Captain raised his teacup in salute, and a brown wave slopped dangerously up against the edge. “Do me a favour? Get one of the buggers for me, will you? Two of the swine would be even better!”

  Rose nodded grimly, “It would be my pleasure, sir. Very much so. I promise I’ll do my best for you.”

  The slim WAAF was sitting with her back to him, an open book in her hands and a cup of tea growing cold next to the powder blue cap on the table before her.

  He stood for a moment behind her, admiring the way her lustrous hair was pinned up, the beautifully smooth pale perfection of the exposed skin of the nape of her slender neck, and the way in which the blue uniform hugged her trim figure.

  She sensed him standing behind her, and she turned, smiling warmly, her eyes bright. On her tunic she proudly wore the medal ribbons of the George Cross and the Polish Bronze Cross of Merit with Swords.

  Rose uncertainly removed his cap, “I say, is this chair taken, miss?”

  The sweet voice was a little petulant, “It is, but he was supposed to be here about half an hour ago, he’s late, so you might as well sit with me instead. I think he’s forgotten about me already.”

  Molly tucked a napkin into her book as a bookmark, and put it down carefully beside her cold tea.

  He leaned close, inhaling her fragrance, admiring the graceful curve of her full lips, “He must be a fool, then, if I may be so bold. An absolute idiot, even. A girl like you should never be kept waiting. I reckon you must have married beneath yourself. He’s obviously a moron, and he clearly doesn’t deserve you. Would you care to have dinner tonight with me, instead?”

  Her beautiful dark eyes were troubled. “I’d love to, and you do seem rather nice, but I’m not sure that I should. I’ve only been married for two months, you see, and he swears that he loves me.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes cool, “I’ll bet that he’s been eyeing up the dolly birds at the Air Ministry.”

  Remembering the sight of Morag’s buttocks, and the piece of paper she had secretively passed to him after his meeting, since crumpled into a ball and tossed (with just a touch of regret) into the Thames, he shook his head piously.

  “Not at all. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He lowered his voice and touched her hair. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, absolutely exquisite, so I’m sorry, but I won’t take no for an answer.” Her tresses were like silk beneath his fingers and he sighed, “Exquisite.”

  She glowered dangerously at him, “What do I always say?”

  And in harmony together they quietly chorused, “Flattery will get you nowhere!”

  They laughed, and she leaned towards him, grabbing his tie and pulling him even closer, to kiss him lingeringly, warm soft lips opening against his, her tongue fleetingly probing his mouth, tasting of gloriously sweet love and Elizabeth Arden lipstick.

  Every time she kissed him, his legs turned to jelly, but he’d never tell her. Caesar would not have behaved like that when he kissed Cleopatra, surely? Real men didn’t feel like that, did they? ‘Course not.

  But it felt wonderful, nevertheless. He closed his eyes in enjoyment, and when she pulled back from him, he sighed sadly. “I missed you so much, my love.”

  She laughed softly and let go of his tie. At an adjacent table, a heavily bearded and stocky Royal Navy officer shook his head in outrage.

  What was the world coming too? Young people nowadays had no sense of decorum, canoodling like that.

  Disgraceful! He picked up his tea cup sharply and hot tea slopped back onto his gold-ringed sleeve. Skin smarting, he smacked it back down onto the saucer with a harsh clatter.

  But Molly only had eyes for Rose. “Missed me, did you? Missed me? You rotten fibber! It’s only been two hours since you left for your meeting at the Ministry, you awful rogue.”

  “Exactly! It’s been far too long!” he sighed again, licked his lips as he drank her in hungrily with his eyes, “I love you, Molly.”

  “Not half as much as I love you, you awful, naughty boy! So, what news? Are they taking you away from me?” Oh, I so wish you would take a cushy posting where I knew you would be safe…but then you wouldn’t be the man that I adore. Oh God, Let it be near…

  He lowered his voice, “I’m not being posted overseas. I met Dolly’s uncle, and he’s putting me on a twin-engine conversion course –“

  An icy dread stabbed her heart. “Heavens! Blenheim fighters?” Oh God, not those old wrecks!

  He could see the sudden trepidation in her eyes, even though she tried hard to hide it, her smile turning stiff and fixed.

  “Oh gosh, no, my sweetest, no, not Blenheim fighters!” Rose wrinkled his nose and grimaced, “although I may have to train on them to begin with.”

  If not Blenheims, then what…? Molly clutched his hand tightly, loosening her grip almost immediately, “Oh Harry, what then?”

  He looked around, unconsciously mimicking the Group Captain, and leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Night fighters, more specifically, Bristol Beaufighters!” he sat down opposite her and leaned back with a pleased grin, the thrill of anticipation still fresh within him.

  “Beaufighters?” she looked back at him doubtfully.

  “Honestly,” he chided, “for a stunning popsie with a George Cross, and there aren’t many of those y’know, you’re awfully edgy!”

  She looked down self-consciously at the blue ribbon with the little silver cross on her left breast. “Don’t call me a popsie, you horrid
, obnoxious child, and the only thing I’m concerned about is that they might send you so far away that I couldn’t nag you day and night.”

  He leered at her, “I’d not let them part me from you, my little sugared honey.”

  She shook her head sadly, wiped dry eyes, “How did I get lumbered with a lecher like you? What went wrong?” a long sigh escaped her, “I had such hopes and dreams…”

  “Don’t feel bad, sweetest trinket. It’s just that I’m me and you’re you, a helpless woman, and because you’re only a woman, you just can’t help the way you feel.”

  He smirked at her, “Don’t feel too bad about it, gorgeous, there’s nothing you can do about the desperate attraction you feel for me.”

  He eyed her pompously. “Why, you’re only behaving like every other woman in the world would behave, y’know, my little sticky sweet. You’re simply helpless against my charms. My allure makes a mindless puppet of you. A moth to a flame.”

  Molly snorted in a rather unladylike manner, and half-raised one slim hand.

  “Oh really? Is that so? The only irresistible attraction here is the one that the palm of my hand is feeling for the side of your fat head!”

  Rose covered his mouth, eyes wide in feigned shock, “Oh my goodness! How can you speak so about the one you adore? What kind of woman are you?”

  “I’m a woman who is completely and helplessly in love with you, I must be crazy, God help me, but that’s the kind of woman I am.” She leaned forward and placed both hands onto his lap, dangerously close to his groin.

  “Oh, that’s nice to know,” he squeaked, thrilled and horrified all at the same time, shifting in position and looking around uncomfortably.

  The palms of her hands were warm on his upper thighs.

  Fortunately, the senior naval officer had already left, thereby saving himself from a coronary.

  Molly’s right hand slid higher, and her thumb began to slowly stroke the shaft of his penis.

  “You’ve gone very quiet all of a sudden, Pilot Officer, cat got your tongue?” She arched an eyebrow elegantly, and smiled sweetly at him.