Hmm. It seemed that the Flight Officer was able to terrify others as well as himself with her ridiculous driving.
It was irritating that the Flight Officer had managed to elicit a less than professional reaction from him, denting a professional manner that he, Corporal Suggs, veteran of the North-West Frontier, prided himself greatly with. However, the strained look on the face of the man sitting next to her eased his sense of mortified outrage somewhat.
The officer was rubbing one red and watery eye vigorously with one trembling hand, face still pale, and not just from the bitter cold.
“Are you quite alright, sir?” Suggs asked deferentially, trying not to smile at the young officer’s expression.
The Flying Officer shook his head jerkily. “I had my eyes open just now and I think I caught a fly with one. My fault, really, corporal, usually I have the sense to keep them closed when the Flight Officer is driving. I used to scream occasionally, but I found that the larger insects used to get lodged in my throat, and besides, bird poo has such an awful, sour taste.”
He dabbed his moist eye with a handkerchief, “Besides, I think the Flight Officer thought my cries were ones of enjoyment and encouragement. The louder my screams, the faster she went. Better to just suffer in silence.”
Molly smiled brightly at Suggs, and the Corporal walked to the passenger side of the car, but he spoke to the girl.
“Ma’am, it really is important that you slow down before you get to the final approach for the main gate. Of course, I do actually know you,” and you’ve scared the shit out of me before, but he didn’t say it (couldn’t say it), “but if we’ve got a new sentry on, he might think you’re some loony fifth columnist trying to blow up some aeroplanes.”
She laughed aloud, “Oh, Corporal Suggs, you do say the funniest of things, do I really look like a fifth columnist to you?”
Molly’s eyes were bright with merriment and her response was depressingly cheerful, despite the bitter cold.
No, he thought dourly, carefully keeping his expression neutral; you just look like a very dangerous and crazy woman in that bloody ‘orrible little red car.
“With the greatest of respect, Flight Officer Rose, Ma’am, I’m not quite sure what a fifth columnist looks like? Could look like you or me for all I know.”
Suggs sighed sorrowfully to himself at her chirpy response, and turned his attention to the officer sitting beside her, stretching out his hand.
“May I see your papers, please, sir?”
The young officer held them out, “Corporal, I could not agree with you more. I have spoken to the Flight Officer about this on occasion, but she and I have yet to reach a mutual agreement on the issue.”
He paused as the sentry took his papers and cursorily examined them. “Unfortunately, neither Corporals nor Flying Officers can give orders to Flight Officers, so I’m afraid we will continue to only be able to advise her robustly in the strongest of terms.”
The Corporal smiled stiffly with bloodless lips in response, trying to stop his hands from trembling in reaction as he tried to read the documents.
Hm, Flying Officer Rose, eh? Was this the Flight Officer’s mystery bloke? Interesting…
“Thank you, sir. Would you report to the Adjutant, please? Perhaps the Flight Officer could take you?” Suggs looked questioningly at the girl. “Ma’am?”
“I’ll take him straight there, Corporal, thank you. Headquarters building?”
The Corporal nodded, handed Rose’s papers back to him, and smiled in sympathy at the young officer.
Good luck to you mate, you’re a brave bugger. Flight Officer Rose might be beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated and a hundred other delightful things, but I’d not let her drive me for all the tea in China. You’re welcome to her.
“Please keep your speed down, Ma’am?” Suggs request was plaintive.
“Of course, Corporal, I’d be more than happy to.” The eyes danced with gaiety, and she smiled winningly, “Don’t I always?”
The sentry, bad-temperedly trying not to return her smile, saluted them both dourly and gestured to his grinning colleague sheltering in the guard’s post to raise the barrier.
I know that you always hide inside the guard house whenever that little red sports car shows up, Nobby, you cheeky little fucker.
Next time she turns up in that flamin’ red thing you can risk your own life and limbs, he thought sourly, as he watched the sports car and its occupants enter the airfield at a far more sedate pace.
For fuck’s sake! I know there’s a war on, but this is bloody ridiculous. I’d rather be shot by a Nazi paratrooper than be squashed by a barmy WAAF racing her bloody sports car like she was at Monte fucking Carlo…
As they drew up to the station headquarters building, Molly pointed at a metal T2 type hanger some distance away. She had been posted to the station as head of the WAAF detachment whilst Rose had been on his twin-engine conversion course, and had already given him inside information about life at RAF Dimple Heath.
“The squadron’s Beaufighters are mainly looked after in that one. There’s another adjacent to the hard standings east of the main runway, but there’s a Turbinlite unit using that one.”
Rose stared at the hanger she indicated with interest. He thought the idea of trying to light up an enemy aircraft with one aircraft mounting a searchlight and shooting it down with a second was untenable in the true realities of air combat.
Meanwhile, Molly was still chatting animatedly, obligingly offering him more helpful information about his new posting.
“The CO’s a Wing-Commander called James; he started on Blenheims, nice man but a bit of a martinet, I think. Quite different from dear old Donald, likes a chat. All the paperwork has to be in order, otherwise he gets really annoyed, and he loves war correspondents, apparently. James makes sure we have lots of visiting acts, though.”
She chuckled, “Rob Wilton was here last week, went down a storm, although some of his jokes were a bit blue.”
Curious, Rose asked, “Were there any WAAFs there?”
“Most of my girls were, but none of them so much as batted an eyelid, whilst I was blushing as bright as you like! Me! An old married woman!” She shook her head sadly, “I don’t know what the world’s coming to!”
Molly slowed the car for a WAAF crossing in front of them, “James is the acting station commander, has been for absolutely ages, and I think he’s hoping it’ll become permanent.”
A frown creased her smooth forehead as she watched the girl cross, and she half-stood in her seat, “Elsie? Elsie! Are those stockings regulation?” She shook her head severely at the agitated girl, “Good God, girl! How many times? My office in half an hour! And make sure you’re properly dressed. Dismissed!”
Molly turned to smile apologetically at her husband as the flustered girl fled.
“But I ought to be very grateful, really,” she continued as if nothing had happened, tucking a loose strand of hair under her cap, “He’s the one who had me officially assigned to Oulton, technically I’m only here on secondment, and I’m formally on strength here under my maiden name, otherwise there’s no way we could both be serving on the same station. The Air Ministry would see to that.”
Because of the potential consequences and complexities of service people being in a domestic relationship and living on the same station during wartime, the King’s Regulations directed that married couples would not be allowed to serve together.
Molly eased the car carefully into a free space in front of the HQ building, “There’s a squadron of Wellington bombers here, too, but it’s really only a glorified flight, under a Squadron Leader. I think the rest of the unit are serving somewhere a bit warmer. Not sure quite where. Careless talk and all that.”
RAF Dimple Heath began life as a satellite airfield to RAF Oulton, but in an airfield expansion plan of late 1940, completed by W & C French Ltd, it became a fully operational one.
The airfield’s main concrete runway was 1
,375 yards long, concrete with an asphalt covering, and had two ancillary runways. The enclosing boundary track included 30 pan type dispersal areas, with access tracks mainly on the northern flank of the airfield.
There were one type E and one type J aircraft sheds at the northern end of the field, whilst the personnel accommodation and other airfield buildings were located at the north-western part of the airfield.
Molly pulled the handbrake with a jerk and undid her seatbelt. “Well, my darling, here we are!”
“Well, I have to say that the arrival was both nicer and scarier than the last time I arrived at an operational posting, although the driver was definitely very much prettier last time,” she punched him lightly on the arm, “Ow!” And then, tempting fate, “And of course the speed he drove at was a bit more sensible.”
She punched him again.
“Ow! Stop that!” he rubbed his smarting arm.
“I drove you all the way here because I’m a nice, kind girl, I could have let you walk, you know.”
They were renting a beautiful little cottage on the outskirts of the picturesque little village of Dimple situated a mile away from the airfield.
“Yes, I suppose I should thank you for the kindness, although I’m told the journey ordinarily takes more than ten seconds. And I must say, the three little flying beasties I swallowed on the way here made an interesting addition to that delicious breakfast you made for us,” he replied mournfully, adding, “ I must say that I’m glad you missed the pigeon, though. I don’t think I could have managed a whole one at this time of the morning.”
Molly giggled. “Moan, moan, moan. Your breakfast’s still in your tummy, isn’t it? You haven’t brought it up, have you? Honestly, Harry, you’re such a drama queen.”
“I suppose I really ought to keep my trap shut,” he grumbled.
“Don’t worry, my silly darling man, I just don’t listen to you anymore, I ignore everything you say, after all, it is only nonsense that you spout,” she soothed him kindly.
“At least I fly reasonably well; I’m not a total waste of space.”
“Yes, dear,” she agreed softly, “I suppose there is that,” she giggled suddenly, “and I must say, there are some things you really are actually rather good at.”
Rose thought happily back to the night they’d blissfully shared together. “Mmm. Yes, it was a pretty good night, wasn’t it?”
She put her gloved hand over his, and he felt the warmth of her through it. “The very best.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me, gorgeous.”
“My pleasure, my darling,” Molly replied softly, and licked her lips, “very much so.”
They smiled at each other conspiratorially, and she leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips, a fleeting kiss, but one that still made his heart race.
“Oh, hullo there, Molly, this your young man?”
Rose looked around to see a Flight Lieutenant walking purposefully towards the car.
He was small, even shorter than Rose, with a solid, compact frame. He had a walking stick and a very pronounced limp.
“How d’you do, old man? I’m Kelly, the Adjutant. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your good lady wife has done us proud, before she came we didn’t know our elbows from our, erm, well, you know!”
“Hush, Adj, we need to keep it all a little low-key,” Molly reproved.
“Oops, sorry Molly! Loose talk and all that.” Kelly tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially.
Rose stood carefully and stepped out of the car, leaving his walking stick in the car. He had exercised his injured leg mercilessly over the past few weeks, and now he mostly tried not to use his stick. They shook hands, sizing each other up with interest. Kelly wore a Navigator’s flying badge and the ribbon of a DFC.
“Hello, Adj, yes, I’m Harry Rose, it’s a pleasure.”
“Delighted, I’m sure. Heard you were a Hurricane bod, eh?”
“Yes, sir. Up until September last year when I got shot down, but I’ve just completed the twins conversion and Beaufighter familiarisation, and now I’m all yours.”
Kelly lowered his voice, “Did you pick up an AI operator at the Beaufighter unit, chum?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. Or at least I did, but he was posted onto some hush-hush outfit.” He still missed Morrow. “Damned inconvenient, to say the least.”
“Not to worry, old chap, we’ll sort you out with someone, at least until we find a suitable candidate.”
“Thank you, sir that would be very helpful.”
“Well, come along, come along. We’ll go and see the CO, he’s also acting as the station commander, so he has rather a lot on his plate. He doesn’t get the chance to fly often, but he does try. He’s not the easiest of chaps, but he’ll always be there for you if you need him. And, I must warn you, he does like to talk a bit.”
Rose made a noncommittal noise.
Molly touched his arm, “Harry, I’m off to conduct my section head’s meeting, see what the girls have been up to whilst I’ve been off the station. Shall we have some lunch together? The Assistant Section Officer in charge has a really lovely recipe for Lamb Hot Pot. You should definitely try it when you get the chance.”
“That would be lovely, erm, Ma’am. I look forward to it.” He held her hand for a second longer than a junior officer should, and he saw the love glow in her eyes.
There was nothing else that needed to be said, but she whispered, “So now it starts again, my love. Good luck!”
Kelly led him past a pair of diligently typing WAAFs to an inner office. On the door was engraved the legend ‘Station Commander,’ whilst beneath it, the card name slider read ‘Wing Commander Reginald James DSO RAF.’
“Please, Harry, may I call you Harry? Do hang up your greatcoat and cap, Harry. Still damn cold. Eh? What? Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, no, sir. I just had some breakfast.” Rose hung his cap and greatcoat on the coat stand, turned to face Kelly again.
The adjutant examined Rose’s row of medals approvingly. “Nice to have someone with combat experience, it isn’t the easiest thing flying around up there in the dark. I should know, did almost a whole tour on Wellingtons before this.” He rapped on his left foot with his walking stick, the action producing a metallic clang.
“I’m sorry, Adj.”
“I’m not, still got a splinter-free bum and my precious head is still on my shoulders, for which I’m extremely grateful. I’ll leave the heroics for you young bucks.” He looked at the door, “So, ready to enter the lion’s den?”
Rose gulped. Oh Lord, here we go. “Yes, sir.”
James was seated behind his desk, looked up quizzically from the papers and put down his pen.
“Flying Officer Rose, sir.” Kelly limped over to the radiator and held out his hands to warm them.
The Wing Commander stood and walked around the desk to shake Rose’s hand. His smile seemed sincere, “Good to meet you, Rose. I hear you’re known as Flash, so that’s what I’m going to call you, OK?”
He didn’t stop to allow Rose to respond, “I’m pleased to welcome you onto the Squadron, combat experience is always welcome. Pity it’s day combat, you’ll find night combat a whole different kettle of fish, but it’s going to give you a head start. No wonder the old Hun scuttles in under darkness. You and all the others gave ‘em a damn good bloody nose in daylight, so they’ll not try it again, I think. Now the fight is a nocturnal one. We’re the ones the nation’s depending on now. You’re a lucky boy, you know. You’re going to be writing history again. I was up with the squadron last night and we got a probable and a damaged.”
Goodness me, the man doesn’t even stop to breathe! Can’t even get a word in!
Rose wasn’t sure if he should be amused, bemused or astounded.
James was still talking, “I hear you caught a bullet in one paw, and of course the lovely Flight Officer Rose is your good lady? Mm? This could be a good story for the papers; we’ll have to di
scuss it some time.” He slapped his forehead lightly, “Oh Lord, no, we can’t! We need to down play it, don’t want our Molly shipped back to Oulton.”
The Wing Commander perched on the edge of the desk, whilst behind him Kelly caught Rose’s eye and shrugged with a sheepish smile.
James continued talking. “So, you’ve been credited with eight kills, damned fine record by the way, so you know how to lead, aim and shoot, which is a lot more than I can say for a lot of these dumplings we’re receiving as replacements. It’s a lot harder to judge distance and deflection in the darkness, and the only way to be sure is to climb up their arses before you shoot. You’ll have to aim carefully, because you often get only the one shot, without tracer to judge your aim, although the DeWilde rounds tell you when you hit, if you choose ‘em, I would if I were you, and if you don’t hit ol’ Johnny Hun first time, there’s a better than even chance he’ll get away in the darkness, because he might be faster. In fact, the bugger often is.”
He stopped suddenly, “Damn it! I’m doing it again! Listen to me blathering on and on, sorry Flash, but when you get me started you’d need to fire at least one 20mm cannon shell up my backside to stop me; you’ll get all the gen you need from the boys, and I want you to do some air tests and practice intercepts as soon as possible, perhaps later, maybe for a couple of days to get your hand in, get familiarised with a kite. Oh, I didn’t mention that, did I? We prefer to get the crews to adopt a particular kite, so that you can get used to its little foibles. That way you don’t have to get used to a kite every time you get up there, you know what it is going to do each time when you’re carrying out an intercept. I’m sure you did the same when you were on Hurricanes. Oh goodness! We need to sort out an operator for you as well, didn’t you have one during familiarisation?”
He tapped his nose, “Oh yes, he developed some sort of sinus complications, or something, didn’t he? All rather interesting.”
The Operator Rose had originally been crewed with was an ex-Cambridge physics tutor, before the man had been mysteriously transferred to important ‘Hush-hush’ duties just as they completed the training and familiarisation course. Morrow had been an agreeable, considerate man, albeit a little pompous and absent-minded. The sinus complication thing a useful fabrication.
Beaufighter Blitz Page 5