They bade farewell to the gun site, borne home (or at least to the Railway Station, if it hadn’t been bombed) by the same young driver they were picked up by, and grateful to be returning to their own world, wiser to the realities of another aspect of the defence of which they were a part.
The train chugged its way out of London, the fragrance of blooming countryside spoiled by the reek of smoke and brick dust and cordite, whilst behind them the great city burned, the stink of burning and despair and pain hanging low like some awful cloud over it.
Memories of Foxton, never far, crowded in on him.
A lesson had been learned, life on the AA guns was certainly no cushy number. A memorable night not easily forgotten.
James would not hear them moan about the men and women of the AA Command again.
Chapter 39
Corporal Elsie Dyer cursed long and hard as cold water sprayed across her, spotting her tunic further and splashing her already very wet face. If she didn’t sort out the matter in hand soon, she was going to be very late for sorting out her dinner preparations.
No matter what she did, no matter how hard she toiled and scrubbed, even using her button brush and the hard bar of Coal Tar soap, Elise could not get the stain’s outline out of her regulation blue bloomers.
Standing at the sink in the ‘Ladies’ in Dimple village’s public house, washing her drawers feverishly in the big deep sink, her hands glowing an angry red from the icy water, Elsie fumed.
Olaf was a sweet man and a very considerate lover, and, although she had not meant to, Elise had fallen in love with him. She loved everything about him, the way he deferred to her, the way his lips curled over his crooked incisor, the way in which he hugged her close wherever they were and whatever the company.
But what she definitely did not love was the way he withdrew just before he ejaculated.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. Olaf insisted in lovemaking without protection, because she was his beloved ‘Kusymre’ (which he assured her was a delicate yellow Norwegian flower), and he needed to feel her directly, without there being anything in between their organs.
“I cannot bear anything between us, my darling flower,” He would say, with that curiously vulnerable look on his face. “I must be inside you fully. I must have the feel of your skin and body against mine. Completely.”
Hardly poetry, but sincerely spoken.
In itself, it was not really a concern for Elsie, because Olaf was reliable and thoughtful and always withdrew before he climaxed, and to be honest he felt rather wonderful just as he was.
It did feel much nicer without one of those awful french letters on his todger.
What really irritated her, however, the thing that drove her bloody barking mad, was the fact that Olaf always ejaculated onto her bloomers, without fail.
And whilst he would be cringingly apologetic afterwards, he could not stop himself in the heat of the moment.
And that left poor Elsie with a warm and relaxed feeling and very sticky drawers that needed immediate washing to prevent them staining.
It was as Mum always used to say, men were good at making a mess, but it was always the women who had to clear it up.
But the sex was fun, lots of fun.
She stopped for a moment, and blew a loose strand of hair away from her face.
Flipping Heck, what a life.
In the momentary calm from her frenzied cleaning, she held up the offending garment and examined it closely.
Just outside, in the garden, audible beyond the joyous singing birds, Elsie heard harsh voices in the garden outside, and she leaned closer to the lowered upper sash to hear better.
It might provide a welcome distraction from this bloody awful task.
It was a man, voice lowered, but not lowered enough for her not to be able to make out his words.
She frowned. It sounded like that new Norwegian pilot, Loytnant Fosse, and he was speaking in Norwegian.
“Vi må ta flyet i kveld, vil vi å få det til Gilze-Rijen. Du trenger for å fyre av nødbluss som vi lærte, og vi vil være trygge.”
Elsie frowned in confusion at the window. What on earth? What did he mean by saying, ‘We must take the aeroplane tonight, and we’ll be able to get it to Gilze-Rijen. You'll need to fire the flares as we were taught, and we'll be safe.’
There was something fishy going on. But what? And what was Gilze-Rijen? Fire flares? What on earth could it mean? Dodgy, and no mistake.
Elsie reached for the sash window to ease it further down to listen better, but as she pushed it, it dropped with a crash that reverberated in the sudden silence.
Elsie stared at it for an instant, aghast, frozen in shock. Oh no. they’ll have heard me!
Dropping her sodden knickers into the sink, grimacing at the wet ‘thwop’ sound they made, she scampered hurriedly into the toilet cubicle, being careful to leave the door open.
Even if someone were to hoist themselves up, and peered into the ladies, they ought not to be able to see her.
But, nonetheless, she clambered onto the toilet seat and crouched down on it, taking care not to touch the chain hanging from the cistern.
Any movement might betray her.
There was a rustle in the shrubbery outside, and she heard something scrape against the brickwork of the wall. There was a grunt, and then the sound of heavy breathing as a heavy object was lifted up. Elsie closed her eyes, and held her breath.
“Det er ingen der. Vinduet må ha glidd.” (‘There's no one there. The window must have slipped’).
Then there was a different voice, strained, “Takk faen, kom ned før du bryte ryggen min!” (‘Thank fuck, come on down before you break my spine!”).
There was more rustling and grunting and a ‘Thunk!’, as if a sack of coal had suddenly been dropped onto the ground outside the window.
Then the rustling sound of footsteps as they walked away.
She began to lift her head, and then stopped. What if they had not gone? What if they were waiting?
Her ankles and thighs were beginning to ache, and her wet clothes were horribly uncomfortable, but she remained still, crouching precariously on the toilet bowl, wondering how she could explain what she was doing if anyone were to come in. That would be awfully difficult.
She was aware that her stockings were sagging, her uniform soaked, and she must look a dreadful mess. She would need to make herself presentable before getting back to the airfield.
But what had it all meant? What did they mean about taking the aeroplane tonight? Were they on the duty roster tonight?
After five minutes Elsie had had enough. Just as she were about to move, there was a rustling outside and then the sound of a second set of footsteps as someone else walked away.
A cold shiver rattled its way down her spine.
There had been someone waiting outside, after all!
For a long moment after the sound of the footsteps had faded, Elsie remained where she was. She began to tremble, why had there been someone waiting?
Although she had continued to hide, she had not really believed that there might actually be someone remaining outside to catch her out.
There was something really wrong about all of this, and suddenly she longed to be in Olaf’s arms. She felt safe with him, even if he always came messily in her pants.
Carefully she stepped down, wary not to slip in her wet shoes.
She needed to speak someone, Squadron Officer Rose lived nearby, just further up the Lane, and perhaps she was home?
Elsie peeked around the side of the cubicle wall, but the window was empty, showing only the bright green of the shrubbery outside.
Her shoulders sagged, and she pondered for a moment about slipping into her soggy knickers, but decided against it.
No matter how much they were wrung out, there was no way she could walk back to the airfield in them.
No, she would leave them where they were, wretched and wrinkled in the sink, try and tidy herself up
and get Olaf to run her back.
Perhaps the journey on the back of his rattling deathtrap of a motorbike would help to dry out her damp uniform.
Elsie turned to the door that led into the narrow dark wood lined passageway. Hopefully, he would be waiting for her in the Snug, the big stupid loving smile on his face, monstrously pleased with himself, a pint of beer untouched before him.
But when she opened the door, there was someone else waiting for her in the darkened passage, and she recoiled in shock.
Elsie felt the wave of fear wash over her, like an icy tide that coursed through her from her toes upwards, and leaving her hair feeling as if it were standing on end beneath her cap.
The big man dressed in the Norwegian air force uniform sneered at her, a twisted, spiteful smile filled with cruelty.
“Ah, Elsie! Onsker du en tur tilbake til flyplassen?” he said, asking her if she would a lift back to the airfield.
Elsie scowled at him, “What?” she tried to brush back the rebellious strands of damp hair escaping from beneath her hat.
“Why do you pretend not to understand me?” RNAAF Loytnant Fosse raised his bushy blond eyebrows in puzzlement, “Olaf told us that your mother was from Bergen.”
“She was,” replied Elsie defiantly, inching slowly along the wall towards the Snug. “And Olaf talks too much. I’m going to have a word with him about that now.”
“Very well, then we speak in English. He sent me. Olaf is outside. He asked me to bring you to him.”
Why would he do that? They had earlier agreed to meet in the pub for a drink, not outside.
Sensing her confusion, Fosse indicated the open door to her right, “Come, come. Please.”
Elsie looked longingly to the left and the sanctuary of the Snug, and then to the right and the open doorway that led out into the garden.
This felt so wrong. She tensed, ready to race to the left, and without a change in expression, still smiling, Fosse lunged forward, one hand slapping hard against her mouth, the other clamping around her neck.
“Now we go. Come, Elsie, be good. It will be better for you, you know. ”
Her throat and lungs were hurting, burning, and she couldn’t see straight, but still her knee shot out,straight and true yet somehow missing her intended target and instead slamming painfully against his inner thigh.
The smile on his face disappeared, disappearing into a injured grimace, and he grunted in pain.
Elsie could feel the pressure against her neck increase, even as she gloried in delivering the blow, and as her world dimmed, he took his hand from her mouth and punched her straight in the face.
And the world exploded into black.
A cool breeze washed over her, and she smiled as the boat rocked gently on the river, Olaf looking down at her, the sun a blinding white circle behind him, his features obscured by the light.
The smile made her mouth hurt, and Elsie tried to touch her aching face (why was her face hurting so?), her tongue licking dry, crusted lips and meeting with a sharp surface that shocked her back into full consciousness.
Her questing tongue found the cracked tooth again, and she tried to sit up.
What…?
She couldn’t move! Someone was holding her arms tightly, and squinting into the eye-watering glare, she saw that it was not dear Olaf’s face looking down at her after all, but rather that of Fosse.
And she wasn’t in a boat, but in a speeding car, the cool breeze really the flow of air as they raced between high hedgerows,
With a thundering and juddering rush recent events flooded back into her mind, and she began to struggle against his grip.
“Oh, you’re awake! Had you been listening to us? Tell me what you heard!”
She tried to speak, but her throat hurt and all that came out was a croak. The pain reminded her of the hard hands at her throat.
“What’s that? I can’t hear you.” He smiled, but unsurprisingly there was no warmth in it, and the speculative malice in his eyes made her shiver with fear.
He was disappointed. She had awoken earlier than he had hoped. Lifting her into the car, Fosse had enjoyed the feel of her breasts and buttocks.
He leaned close, “You are nice-looking girl, even if so messy. Perhaps I might take a parting present with me.”
One hand slid down from her shoulder, heavily brushing against the side of her breast, to come to rest on her left hip.
“You like Norwegian boys, yes?” he asked diffidently.
Elsie’s mouth felt stiff and bruised, and she felt beaten and battered all over. Anger quickened through her, burning through her confusion and fear.
Like Norwegian boys? Goodness only knows where Olaf is right now when I need him most, and you’ve just punched me in the face, you bastard. I’m not so sure. You Norwegian boys aren’t doing me any favours.
But conscious of his hands on her, and the fact that she had no knickers on, her modesty only protected by a pair of sagging and semi-soaked stockings, she nodded carefully, working an expression of fright and trepidation onto her face. Look scared. If he thinks you’re scared, he’ll underestimate you, he won’t be ready when the time to act comes.
She tried to sit up and nodded hesitantly, but her seemingly-anxious eyes looked ahead through the windscreen for an instant, seeing the rippling sparkle of the river to the left catching the lowering sun through the thinning undergrowth.
Elsie knew the area well and recognised instantly that the car was less than a mile upriver of the village of Dimple.
I need to get away.
“If you give me a kiss and hug, we let you go, OK?” his grip enfolded the curved ridge of her hip, and she knew there would be no choice, the look in his eyes those of one enjoying their thrall over another.
“Alright”, she slurred, “just a kiss? You promise?”
He nodded; licking his lips eagerly, “Just a kiss. I promise.” But the hand slipped downwards.
“You promise?” she asked again, and her voice was a whisper.
“I promise.” His hand reached the hem of her skirt and slipped beneath it. In the front, his pilot laughed, but did not look back.
With one trembling hand she reached out and hesitantly stroked his cheek, “Nothing more?”
“Of course”, he agreed, but the hard fingers creeping up her inner thigh revealed the lie.
Her hand still on his face, he leaned over and touched his lips with hers.
In exactly the same instant as their lips touched, Elsie’s hand flew back to her hair and in a single motion pulled out the long hairpin that had been a present from her grandmother, reversed it and rammed it hard into the side his face, aiming for his eye, but instead it pierced his cheek, just beneath his left eyeball, scraping against the lower border of the orbit and tearing ruinously through the Orbicularis Oculi muscle.
Fosse shrieked shrilly in pain, jumping backwards away from her and disappearing over the side of the car.
As he fell, Fosse’s foot caught the back of Caspersen’s head a glancing blow, and the car screeched to a halt.
Elsie was thrown forwards and found herself lying with her head and shoulders in the front passenger footwell, her exposed legs sticking out over the seat.
Stunned for a moment by the sudden braking, she soon regained her senses, and urgently struggled out, seeing as she did that Caspersen had caught his head against the windscreen. He looked over at her blearily, bleeding from a cut on his forehead. There was no sign of Fosse.
I hope that fall cracked your head open, you fucking pervert.
Caspersen reached for her but already she was out of the car and running for the river. It was hard going, for the sudden stop, its consequences and Fosse’s blow had skewed her sense of balance, her stockings were sagging badly, and she ached horribly all over, but her parents had not raised a weakling and she struggled grimly onward. Hot Viking blood rushed through her veins.
She had lost her hat and both her shoes somewhere, and she felt the unevennes
s of the ground against the soles of her feet as she drew ever closer to the riverbank.
With a bit of luck, she could swim downriver, back to Dimple village and get some help.
There was a sharp crack! and a bullet whistled past, well over to the right, almost immediately another crack! Still to the right, but much closer this time.
Time slowed and she could feel the stones and grass beneath her feet, almost stumbling as she caught the toes on her left foot against a sharp rock.
Tears wet her eyes with the pain, but she didn’t stop, her muscles pumping as she drove herself onwards. She didn’t flinch as a third bullet whistled an inch to the left of her head like a huge, angry wasp.
Her heart was thumping and the river was swimming in her vision, but she was scrambling down now, and she leapt for the surging water as she reached the edge of the bank. The daughter of a sailor, she was a strong swimmer and was confident that she could handle the river.
The fourth bullet smacked into the ground at her feet, but the fifth caught her just before she hit the water.
Caspersen puffed his way to the river edge, but was just too late, catching sight of the girl’s tunic disappearing beneath the heaving surface for only a second or two.
Lining up his pistol, he waited for her to resurface, but she did not.
Wiping away the blood as it dripped from his forehead into his eyes, he emptied the remaining bullets in his clip into the water where she had disappeared.
“Faen! Faen! Jævla kjerring! ” he shouted in anger. The bitch had almost destroyed their plans.
The bitch must be dead, he thought, for he had seen the pink spray of blood when his shot had hit the girl in the back. They should have killed her at the beginning and dumped her body in the river. They would have been well away and safe before she would have been found.
Fucking Fosse! How could he think of a quick fuck when the mission should come first?
With one last look at the frothing, seething river hiding their secret, he turned back for the car.
Beaufighter Blitz Page 37