Rose’s smile disappeared. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
His face grim, James nodded. “Chalky’s promotion wasn’t lost really. I kept it back.”
“What d’you mean sir? Rose’s lips thinned, angry by the admission, although he carefully kept his face as expressionless as possible.
And then another thought occurred to him, what about the girl? “Sir, did Mandy know?” was the girl’s interest in White genuine, or born from guilt at involvement in the deception?
“I kept poor Chalky as an airman because he had no pilot and somehow he’d got a reputation as a jinx, unfairly I know, but what else could I do?”
James sighed, “And no, Mandy knew nothing about it. And she mustn’t ever find out. She’s rather attached to the young devil, and she’d never forgive me for the pretence. She wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m sorry sir, you’re telling me that poor Chalky was emptying oil trays and cleaning latrines because you felt it was prejudicial to good order to make him a sergeant? I’m not quite sure that I quite understand either.”
Despite his best attempts, Rose felt himself muscles stiffening and a frown slowly settling over his face. Careful now, be careful, just watch what you say; you’re talking to your CO.
James sighed again and raised a hand in supplication to stop Rose. “Hang on, Flash, I’ll explain. I know it was a mistake, but no-one would fly with him, and the last thing I needed was for my crews to be forced to fly with someone they didn’t want to. It’s not the easiest thing to do to place yourself in someone else’s hands for an interception, you ought to know that by now.”
He shook his head, “But if your crews think he might be a jinx? Well. You appreciate how superstitious aircrews are. I made the decision, right or wrong, and I’ll stand by it. The crews come first, always will for me. You’re all precious, each and every one of you. Alright, so perhaps it was a mistake, a terrible, grossly unfair mistake, but I’m going to make it up to him, I promise you.”
James stared at him shrewdly, “I’ve put him up for a commission. It’s all arranged, he’s got an interview on Friday at Group. Just a formality, really, but I want you to take him for it, give him a bit of support. Alright? He can sew on his braid, now, though. I’ve asked Mandy to take him to Stores to get his rank issued. She’s over the moon about it, bless her. Don’t know how she kept it quiet.”
Chalky, a Pilot-Officer? Rose’s frown immediately evaporated to be replaced with a smile of glee. The lad had only just got used to being a Sergeant, and now he was going into the Officer’s Mess, with a DFM to boot!
James noted his reaction, and nodded in satisfaction. “You can tell him, old chap. He’s earned it and proved the rest of us wrong. Apart from you, of course. You believed in him and gave him the chance he needed, and he took full advantage of it. I can’t tell you how relieved and happy I was when you agreed to fly with him. You two are one of my better crews, notwithstanding that you’ve been on ops for such a short time as a crew.”
James looked at the small circle of happy pilots chatting animatedly, “I was able to turn a blind eye about Chalky and Mandy before, because they were both sergeants, but now that he’s an officer, I think it might be an idea to remind him to walk out with her in civvies. We don’t want the SPs or the WO getting excitable, do we? They’re usually OK about these things, but you always get one who’s a bit over zealous, don’t you?”
Of course. It would be frowned upon for an officer to have a personal relationship with an ‘other rank’, so poor Mandy would have to wear civilian clothes whenever she and Chalky went out together. It was ludicrous, as their relationship did not affect the service in any way, but those were the regulations, and they would need to follow them. There was no choice in the matter.
“Yes sir, them’s the rules,” he agreed, “I’ll tell Chalky. Thank you.” he smiled, “I appreciate you telling me.”
James coughed, “The least I could do, Flash. I’m just glad it’s all come right in the end. Get the lad to put up his rank up. I’d better have a chat with Williams, Heather and Trent, later; they’re to be made acting pilot officers as well. Well, I’ll be off then, get the wheels rolling. Good luck tonight, old boy.”
James made to walk out, but at the doorway he turned to look severely at the group of pilots, “Carry on, then.”
A frosty eye singled White out, “Oh, and Chalky, keep your mangy paws to yourself. You better watch it, because I’ve got my eye on you. Touch her and I’ll transfer you to Army Liaison.”
I rather suspect Chalky has done a lot more than just touching her, thought Rose gleefully to himself.
White grinned back at the Wing Commander, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
James’ expression was stern, but one eyelid flickered as he winked covertly at Rose, “Right then.”
Chapter 27
A week later, they were first on the patrol roster that evening, and the light was fading fast as they took up position just off the coast of Norfolk. Trade had been poor of late, but Rose was hopeful that they might catch an early raider.
“Right then, Chalky, you cheeky tart, you awake there in the back? I expect you to call me Flash now that we share the same Mess.”
The interview at Group last Friday had been a mere formality after all, just as James had promised, and White’s promotion to Pilot Officer was confirmed.
It had been a huge delight to see a diffident White enter the same Mess they first met in not so long ago, but this time as an officer, the thin stripe on his sleeve and the diagonally-striped purple and white ribbon of the DFM proud and vivid beneath his flying brevet.
What a change a few months could make!
“Oh, sir, I couldn’t possibly.” White replied, still sounded a bit dazed and slightly disbelieving by the fact he was an Officer.
“If you insist on calling me ‘sir’ in front of the others they’re going to take the piss, and everybody’s going to think I’m forcing you to do it. The other operators will think that I’m some kind of tyrant. Do it, that’s an order. OK? If you don’t, I’ll swap operators with the Norwegians. They like a bit of formality. How’s that grab you?”
“Oh God. I’ll try, sir, er, Flash.” White said uncertainly.
“That’s more like it, you cheeky sod. While we’ve still got a spot of light, have a shufti below us; see if you can catch sight of anyone sneaking in low.”
Rose’s eyes watched the tiny shard of fading silver that was the other patrol Beaufighter as it headed for its position to the south of D-Dog, and thought back to earlier that day.
White and Rose had journeyed together that morning into London, ostensibly to kit out White with his officer’s uniform, but there had been a second, hidden, agenda for the trip.
Rather than take the risk of denting Molly’s beloved sports car in the London traffic (God forbid!), the pair chose to sign out a service Hillman from the MT pool instead.
The trip had been a pleasant one, more leisurely than the usual hair-raising, insect-swallowing, wind-whipped and fume-filled dash that he was accustomed to with his gorgeous Molly.
Certainly White wasn’t as pretty, but the journey was far kinder to Rose’s blood pressure.
An Air Ministry allocation of just over twenty pounds had been issued to White for his officer’s uniform and gear, and Rose drove straight to the little shop of the uniform outfitters that he himself used in Sackville Street.
The tailor, Hobbs, bobbed his head when he saw Rose, then diffidently and quietly, professionally eyeing him up and down, asked if White was wearing any underclothes.
“Erm, yes.” White muttered in surprise. Rose grinned.
The tailor beamed. “I apologise for the impertinence, sir, but you’d be surprised how many people turn up for a measurement without anything on underneath.”
He leaned forward conspiratorially, “Even some of the young gentry!” he’d looked mildly outraged.
“It’s the war,” Rose murmured drily, thinkin
g, you poor devil, sounds like a perfectly horrid job to me, give me a Beaufighter any day. But, there were also female uniforms on the hangers. Mm, a lack of underclothes might not always be that bad.
Reassured that all was as it should be, Hobbs fussed and fumbled around a bemused White for over an hour, mumbling unintelligibly to himself and scribbling in the little notebook into which he recorded all the vital information for each new outfit or uniform.
Normally after receiving his commission, White ought to have received a week’s leave in order to obtain his outfit and articles of rank, but knowing that Rose would remain on operations during that time, and fearing his pilot flying with another operator, White elected to postpone the leave to a more appropriate time.
After paying the necessary fee, and promising to return in just under a week for the finished garments, they left the shop and made their way to the second and (to White at least) more important part of their mission.
An hour later they emerged once more, this time from a shop in Bond Street. White was well pleased with his purchase, even though it had cost him an inordinately large sum of money.
As they got back into the car, gaily slinging their caps and gas mask cases onto the backseat, Rose cast a sheepish glance back at the shop from which they’d emerged.
Molly would love the gift he had chosen for her, as she loved everything he gave her, no matter how small or silly, but adoration had once again overwhelmed sense and he, like White, left the shop a lot lighter in funds than when he had entered it. But the moment he’d seen the bracelet, he knew he had to get it for the girl he loved so very much.
Already, in his mind’s eye, he could see himself putting it on Molly’s slim wrist. He sighed happily.
White shifted in his seat. “Thank you, sir, for bringing me and for all your help. I’d have been lost without you.”
“It was my pleasure, Chalky. Nice choice by the way.”
“I just hope she likes it, that’s all.”
“Oh she’ll love it chum, trust me.” Rose reassured him, and started the engine, “Well, that’s us done. Let’s go home. Do you fancy a bite to eat or a cuppa on the way back?”
“No thank you, sir. I promised to have a late lunch with Mandy. I think she’s a bit concerned that I might elope with a showgirl while I’m down here. But she’s the only one for me. I can’t understand what a smasher like her sees in me! I’m still half-expecting to wake up and find out it was all a dream!”
Stopped at the traffic lights, Rose checked his mirror, and twisted around in the seat to check the red double-decker as it lumbered up the road towards them.
Molly, unflinching daredevil of the roads that she was, would have thought nothing of racing the bus, but Rose waited patiently for it to pass them, then inched the Hillman carefully out into the cloud of fumes behind it.
He wasn’t as confident or skilful as his wife, and stayed well within the speed limit.
The driving lessons with Molly had been hell, and the memories still made him sweat, but the road was not as dangerous a place as he had feared.
Most of the other drivers he met seemed to drive with far less joyous abandon and a touch more responsibility than his dark-haired beauty.
It continued to be a great source of amusement and fondness to Molly that the man she loved, a man who deftly flew high performance fighters in deadly air combat, actually drove so diffidently on the ground, quite unlike most of his friends and contemporaries.
As they made their way along the North Circular, White turned to him. “How did you do it, sir?” he asked shyly.
“Hmm? What’s that, Chalky, old chap? Do what?” The bus turned off the main road and disappeared, and he wound down the window.
“You know, sir, pop the question to Mrs Rose. How did you do it?”
“Oh. Well, I asked Molly in the garden of a pub. Not the most salubrious of places, but it was a summer’s day, and the surroundings were quite spectacular.”
It had been a wonderfully warm day, with Molly looking exquisite in the light cotton dress, smooth skin pale gold in the bright sunlight, the soft breeze playing tantalisingly with her hair and the hem of her skirt.
Molly hadn’t said yes then, but at least she’d agreed to hold on to the ring he had bought in London with Granny. He smiled tenderly at the memory. He owed so much to that grubby, wonderful man.
“I suppose I could ask her in The Black Bull,” White said doubtfully.
Rose thought that was a dreadful idea. The Horse and Groom’s garden had been a great deal prettier than the Black Bull’s. Prettier by far.
A convoy of three 15cwt army trucks passed them, going the other way, their exhausts leaving a dirty and malodourous cloud in their wake, “When are you going to ask, Chalky?” he wound up his window again.
“I was thinking of when we come back off duty, in a couple of days, sir.”
Rose checked his mirrors and then pulled out, heart racing, to overtake a slow-moving lorry dawdling in the lane in front of them.
“Well then, why don’t you take Mandy to the seaside, ask her somewhere memorable and picturesque?”
He watched the lorry carefully as he surged past, then settled back into place as it slid behind them and swiftly shrank into the distance.
White nodded thoughtfully, “Mm, I thought so too. It’s a little bit dull around Dimple Heath.”
“Scared?”
“Stiff, sir. What if she says no?”
Rose had snorted scornfully. “She won’t, you daft pudding! She thinks you’re wonderful, poor girl, bless her.”
White shifted fretfully in his seat. “But just suppose?”
“Well, you’ll still have me. What more could you ask for?” Rose simpered hideously at his crew mate.
“No offence, sir, but that’s not much comfort. I’d much rather have Mandy.” White settled into silence, staring morosely through the windscreen, one hand over the pocket holding the precious engagement ring.
“Charmed, I’m sure.” Rose smiled ruefully to himself and wound down his window again slightly and settling comfortably back.
Should be back in Dimple Heath in a little while. An air test after lunch and then final preparations for the approaching night, perhaps another spot of practice.
He’d give Molly the bracelet after their two days of duty were over.
If you survive, the treacherous little voice whispered in his mind.
Shut up, he responded sternly.
“Can’t see a thing down there, erm, Flash.”
Over the intercom, White’s voice broke through his musings, bringing him back into the cockpit of D-Dog.
“Shame. I was hoping we’d catch one of their pathfinders, Chalky.”
The sun was just a memory now, as night rushed in and banished the light to a fast receding pink-purple line on the horizon.
“No such luck, I’m afraid.”
“So, tell me, my old china, where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Mandy’s present, you thick plum, what do you think?”
“Oh, that. I’ve got it on me. I’m keeping it with me until I put it on her.”
“You’re sure you want to do this, chum? I don’t mean to sound condescending, but you’re both young, no need to rush, you know.” God, I hope there’s no need to rush…
“Why? How old were you when you asked the Flight Officer, Flash?”
“Um, well...twenty, actually.” Rose’s eyes settled on a star, twinkling above them, was it moving?
He peered closely at it for a moment, and then relaxed. It was only a star after all, not some enemy bomber sneaking through the darkness.
“But that’s only a year and a bit older than I am now! How long did you know Mrs Rose before you asked, Flash?”
Rose’s proposal had come within two months of their first meeting. He heaved a sigh; White had him by the balls.
“Alright, alright, you damn rogue. I’m sorry I spoke, you do as you see fit, don’t mind
me. I’m only your experienced fucking senior. You youngsters are all the same, no interest in advice from your elders and betters.”
White was behind him, a closed pair of armoured doors between them, but even then, he could feel his operators merriment.
His eyes were drawn to the star above once more. He could swear it was moving, but he knew he was imagining it. He’d heard the tales of the confused Beaufighter pilot who’d chased after a star for over half an hour.
Stop looking at it.
“Dagger 3, we may have some trade for you, what are your angels and heading?”
“Dagger 3 to Lamplight, Angels Twelve, one-eight-zero.”
“Hullo, Harry, nice to hear your dulcet tones,” Rose’s eyebrows shot up, David! “Seems there’s a bandit about, Dagger 3. Steer one-one-zero, please.”
Best to remain professional, “Thank you Lamplight, understood, one-one-zero.” Then, “Good to hear you.”
“Thank you, Dagger 3. Remain on heading, range twenty five miles, angels ten, flash your weapon, please.” A moment, “Thank you, steer one-two-five, angels fourteen.”
“Angels fourteen, one-two-five confirmed.” Rose switched to the intercom, “Hear that, Chalky? Watch out for the bandit.”
“OK, Flash.”
“Dagger 3, be advised that bandit has turned away, range twenty miles. Maintain angels and steer zero-nine-five.”
“Thank you, Lamplight, heading zero-nine-five, current angels.”
They flew along in silence for some minutes, Morrow occasionally correcting their course and altitude, and then, “Dagger 3, range is now five miles; bandit is at your twelve o’clock and still at your angels. Flash your weapon. Do you have him?”
“Chalky, can you see anything?”
“No, sorry, nothing.” White sounded disgusted.
“OK, keep looking, chum,” Rose pushed the throttles forward a little more. The fuselage was vibrating and the engines were howling as they dragged the Beaufighter ever closer to its prey.
Beaufighter Blitz Page 27