by Griff Hosker
“As did you, sir, but there are many men I served with who might disagree about the good part.”
His face crinkled into a smile, “Quite. You have successfully put me in my place.”
“Sorry sir I…”
He waved a hand as the steward came over with some pink gins. “No, you are right. Apart from the battle of Jutland, we saw little action. That was not our choice, of course, and Jutland meant you either survived as I did, or went to the bottom like the poor chaps in Queen Mary and Indefatigable.”
“Yes sir, the Squadron Leader has some interesting views on how strong our ships might or might not be.”
“Really Captain Parr? Go on.”
“The Squadron Leader thinks that our ships might be vulnerable to air attack.”
“Explain Squadron Leader.”
“Simple really sir. The armour on ships is mainly at the side. Ships fight broadside to broadside. You rarely get plunging shot. Perhaps that was what sank the battle cruisers but I know that I could drop a bomb vertically. Imagine one down a funnel sir.”
Raising his glass the Rear Admiral said, “Cheers.” We raised our glasses. “You may have something there, you know. I often wondered why our ships just blew up. This could be an interesting dinner. Now before this Count arrives I would like it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. In your opinion, what do you think we need to do, Squadron Leader? And I would appreciate honesty. Do not be afraid of upsetting me eh? I don’t bite.” He grinned, “Although I do bare my teeth now and again.”
“Realistically sir, we need do nothing. At least not yet. The German aeroplanes the Bolsheviks have acquired are not very good. Major Donald will bring the rest of the squadron over in Spring and they should be able to easily deal with them. Even if they do train their pilots the ones they have do not carry enough bombs to damage the flotilla. The ones that could carry a bomb only carry one or two. Like you, sir, I am reluctant to risk young pilots on a hazardous and, in my view, unnecessary attack.” He nodded. “However, the Count wishes me to attack the Bolshevik aeroplanes and I am under orders from Mr. Churchill to support him and to destroy the aeroplanes.”
The Rear Admiral waved over the steward and more pink gins appeared, “I see your dilemma. Your Mr. Rees wants me to sail east so that you can attack them.”
“I have studied the maps, sir. You need not get within range of the Bolshevik fleet. If the carrier can launch us when we are fifty miles from Peterhof we have enough fuel to get to our target, shoot up the aeroplanes and return to the ships. The flotilla would not be in danger.”
He gave me a shrewd look. “But you and your fliers would be. You would be flying over the Baltic in less than ideal circumstances and then have to find the carrier.”
“Yes sir, I am well aware that, unlike an airfield, a carrier does not stay in one place and we are closer to the North Pole which means our compasses might not be as accurate. As I said, Admiral, I am not keen on this operation but I have a plan to carry it out and do so successfully, I hope.”
The Rear Admiral tapped my chest, “I can see that you have deserved the medals you have been awarded. You would risk your life but are reluctant to risk the lives of those you lead. Thank you for bringing the Squadron Leader over early, Captain Parr. I now have a much clearer picture.” He swallowed off another pink gin. “This Count appears to think that we are his own personal navy. He is in for a rude shock.”
The other captains from the squadron arrived and they bombarded me with questions. I was the outsider. This was like Nelson’s band of brothers. They had served with the Admiral in the war and had many such dinners. They were easy and familiar with each other. The rough edges had been knocked off so that they melded into one harmonious unit. I answered all their questions as well as I could. I made a point of mentioning those with whom I had served; Archie, Gordy, Ted, Lumpy, Randolph and all the others. As a pilot, awarded medals and honours, it was too easy to be seen as the only one who did anything. However, it was a pleasant gathering. I slowed down my drinking and put my hand over my glass more often than I allowed it to be refilled.
When the Count, Mr. Rees and Vladimir arrived the atmosphere changed. I saw Captain Parr cover his mouth to hide his smile and nod at me when he viewed the Count in his finery. I had not seen him in his own version of Number 1s. He was preceded by a cloud of smoke from his cigar.
I hovered in the background next to Captain Parr. The Count and Mr. Rees made straight for the Rear Admiral. The Admiral was no actor. His face could not disguise his feelings for the Count. His Flag Lieutenant marshalled us to the table. Once there we toasted the King. The Count then insisted that we toast the Tsar. It seemed a little bizarre as he was dead but we did so, out of courtesy more than anything.
The happy buzz of conversation which had pervaded the room was now replaced by the mechanical sound of knives and forks. The only conversation we would hear was from the head of the table.
“So, Rear Admiral, now that you have your British Ace to command your pilots you can sail close to the enemy and destroy their air force.”
The Rear Admiral chewed and swallowed before wiping his mouth with his napkin. “I think the Squadron Leader will need time to train and work with his pilots. Besides the weather is inclement.”
“Inclement? Or is it that you fear to face the Bolsheviks? When I was at school in England they told me how your navy ruled the world. Perhaps that was a different navy.”
The words were ill chosen and the Rear Admiral had had a larger number of pink gins than was wise. “Sir, do not impugn the honour of the navy nor of myself. Take it back.”
Mr. Rees showed his diplomatic skills, “I am certain the Count meant nothing Rear Admiral.”
The Rear Admiral leaned over and glared at the Count. “I command here, Count. I decide when my carrier will close with the enemy. I have decided that will be when Major Donald arrives with the rest of the squadron and the weather is a little better.”
The Count had a strangely superior look on his face. He leaned back and looked pointedly at Mr. Rees. “I think, Count, that can wait for later.”
“No, Mr. Rees, I insist. Now is the time.” His face had the look of a wolf about to devour a sheep.
“Very well.” He took a brown envelope from his inside pocket and handed it to the Rear Admiral. “As a reward for having captured those destroyers and handing them over to the Finns and Estonians you are relieved of the duty of protecting the land of Estonia. Rear Admiral Cowan and the 1st Light Cruiser Squadron are already steaming here. When they arrive, you will be able to leave. H.M.S. Vindictive will be attached to the1st Light Cruiser Squadron for the foreseeable future.”
Rear Admiral Alexander-Sinclair nodded, “A reward eh? Count Fydorervich you are an unpleasant and loathsome creature. You have ruined the pleasant atmosphere aboard my flagship. Mr. Rees would you escort your friend from my vessel please. He fouls the air.”
The Count stood and his hands went to his waist. His face was livid. He had been insulted. He had no guns but had he had weapons then I fear he would have used them. Mr. Rees said, “Rear Admiral your language is hardly diplomatic.”
The Admiral smiled, “Then thank God I am not a diplomat. I can sleep easy at night knowing I did not jump into bed with every jumped up little warlord!”
The Count and Vladimir hurried out. Mr. Rees, shaking his head, followed them. We all looked at the admiral as he spread his hands, “I am sorry, gentlemen, but one has to draw a line in the sand. I am just saddened that Captain Parr and the Squadron Leader will have to stay here when we are gone. Still Tich Cowan is a good chap. He will stand up to the Count too.”
I shook my head, “I fear not, Admiral. He will have direct orders from Mr. Churchill. If the squadron was already on its way, then nothing that you said or did would have made a difference.”
Realising the truth of my words he slumped in his chair.
Chapter 4
The next few days were busy and I was able t
o put the acrimonious dinner from my mind. The Camel was made ready and Captain Parr left the flotilla and headed out into open water. The clouds had blown away and left us with a bitterly cold wind. On land, it would have been ideal conditions to fly. At sea, it was not so good. Sub-Lieutenant Nash made the decision that it was not the best conditions to try an untested carrier pilot. There was an irony here that someone who had never flown was advising the most experienced flier. However, I took his advice. My pilots concurred and we had to wait another day before I could fly. That did me no good at all. I was keen to get the first take-off and landing out of the way.
Petty Officer Banks had supervised my sergeant and they were both happy with the aeroplane. The two of them got on and that was a relief. My life, whilst in the air, was in their hands. When I had flown in France I had always had the option of crash landing. Captain Hesketh’s words still rang in my ears. A dousing in these seas meant instant death.
Flight Lieutenant Rogers had given me advice. “The take-off is not as bad as the landing. If you time the take off right, then you use the rising bow to give you a little extra lift. The landing, however is a little trickier. That is where the air mechanics come into their own. One of them will have two paddles and he will let you know if you are misaligned. You adjust to his movements. If he waves you off then obey him, sir.”
“Of course.”
“If the worst comes to the worst there is the rope crash barrier, the lads call it the gallows, at the end of the flight deck.”
“I am guessing that makes a mess of an aeroplane?”
“Yes sir. Flight Lieutenant Newton found that to his cost. He hit it on his first landing. Mind you he has been perfect since then.”
That explained much. “Right, well as I have never flown this bus before I will go up fully armed and with a full load of fuel.”
“All or nothing eh sir?”
“That’s about it. Well there is no point in delaying the inevitable. Off into the wild grey yonder eh?”
As I climbed up into the Camel I was grateful that it was not a Strutter. They were bigger, heavier and slower. I had a much better rate of climb. The Camel was as forgiving and perfect an aeroplane as Sopwith had ever made. I saw a look of relief on Sergeant Hepplewhite’s face when the engine kicked in on the first turn. The deck seemed to move up and down alarmingly although I had been told that the conditions were almost perfect. I got the thumbs up from Sub Lieutenant Nash.
I would have to use full power while keeping the bus straight on what seemed like a very narrow deck. I was used to a wide-open field! I waited until the bow dipped a little. That meant it would soon rise and I headed down the deck. I wondered if I had gone too early and then saw the bows begin to rise. As the bows came up I soared into the air and I gave a small whoop of pleasure. Once in the air I was in my element. I took her into a steep climb to 18,000 feet. As I had expected it was freezing cold and I saw ice begin to form on the wings and the guns. We had not fitted the blanket yet. I began a dive and, while my guns were unfrozen, I tried a burst with each gun. They were fine. That was always a difficult moment when you fire synchronized guns for the first time. Even a slight problem could tear away your propeller.
Satisfied that the guns worked I then began to do loops and sideslips. I was a little rusty. It had been months since I had flown and longer since I had been involved in any sort of air combat. I wanted to be as one with my new kite. Eventually I headed down to the carrier. I had kept flying loops with the carrier in the corner of my eye. She looked a very small target. I had been told that once they saw I was ready to land they would turn the carrier to facilitate landing. I made a slow shallow approach to give them all the warning they would need. Then I could put it off no longer. I had to land.
I slowed down the engine as much as I could. The stall speed was 50 mph and I kept it at 55. I saw the mechanic. He looked like a bird with his paddles held out. He held them down. I was too low. I raised the nose a little and increased the speed slightly. His arms were level. I kept it at 60 and, when I saw the deck less than a hundred yards away dropped it to 55 again. It was all a case of timing. I had to watch the mechanic, the stern and the bows. More by good luck than good management I hit the deck when it was as flat as it was going to be. I stopped half way along the deck. I saw George and Bert slapping each other on the back.
I climbed out of the cockpit as the mechanics began to push her back to the hangar. I turned to the Petty Officer. “Are the Strutters ready to fly?”
“No sir. They have all been working on the Camel. Sorry sir. They will take the rest of the day to be readied.”
I nodded, “Not your fault. Tomorrow it is.”
He stroked the Camel as it was wheeled past. “Lovely little bus this is. I wish we had a squadron of them.”
“They are my favourite single seater that is for sure. I will go and see the skipper.”
Captain Parr was more than happy to sail again the following day. “You and the Strutters are our priority, Squadron Leader. You landed as though you had been doing it all your life.”
I shook my head, “Pure luck.”
The next morning I gathered my pilots and air crew, along with Sub-Lieutenant Nash, in the operations room. “We will practise my formations today. The navigator tells me we will have this weather until tomorrow and then a storm is forecast. I want us to fly as many sorties as we can. I will take off first. It will give me a chance to see you all take off and I will land last.” In the absence of radios, we had worked out hand signals. “You will be fully armed. I want you to practise firing. You all know that signal. I will keep my speed to below your maximum speed. Questions?”
There were none but I could see they were nervous. I was the teacher and this was the first part of their test. I was more confident about the take-off this time and I circled the carrier to watch them take off. Flight Lieutenant Harry Greaves rose steeply into the air after he had taken off. He was eager to join me. Flight Lieutenant Rogers was much more economical. He rose steadily into the air and took longer to reach me. Flight Lieutenant Newton almost pancaked into the sea. He barely got the nose up in time.
I waited for them to join me. Once they were in position I gave them the sign to bank to port. It was a little ragged especially Flight Lieutenant Newton but I was pleased. We banked to starboard and we climbed and descended. Gradually Flight Lieutenant Newton improved. He became sharper as we went on. Then I ordered them to open fire. I was impressed by the wall of bullets we put up. Next, I had the gunners fire. It was all satisfactory. Finally, I signalled for a barrel roll. It was a tricky manoeuvre but worth a try. To my amazement, they all made it and we were nearly all in formation. I was delighted and I signalled them to land.
Once again Harry Greaves was eager to be the first one to land. Peter Rogers waited until the first Strutter was moved from the flight deck before he landed. He too was cleared away and Bob Newton made his approach. I could see that he would not make it. His wings were not level and he looked too high. When the mechanic waved him off I expected him to gun the motor and make a second pass. He didn’t. The mechanic threw himself to the side although the Strutter was too high and he would have been safe. Flight Lieutenant Newton desperately tried to land. He actually got his wheels on the flight deck but he was running out of deck. He was saved by the gallows at the end. I was forced to circle until they could disentangle the Strutter and remove it. Although a disaster it was not a tragedy. I saw the pilot and gunner walk away and the damaged Strutter was pulled to join the other two. It took some time to clear the damaged aeroplane. I had plenty of fuel and I did lazy circles running through the events in my mind.
I climbed out of my Camel after I had landed. I walked towards the pilots. “I am sorry sir…I.”
I smiled, “Let’s go down to the operations room. I think we could all do with a brew. Well done chaps.” I walked over to the air mechanic who had waved off Flight Lieutenant Newton. “Well done Wilson.” I turned to the Warrant
Officer. “Petty Officer Banks I think Air Mechanic Wilson deserves an extra tot of rum. What do you say?”
He grinned, “Aye, sir. We’ll make a sailor of you yet, Squadron Leader.”
I went over to Sergeant Hepplewhite and spoke to him. He nodded.
As I headed below decks I was aware that I had treated the incident lightly. It was serious but I did not want either bad feelings or recriminations to ruin the team. I was treating it as an accident. However, I intended to get to the bottom of it.
By the time I reached the operations room Nash had already organized the tea and there was a pot with mugs of steaming tea already poured. A plate of freshly baked shortbread accompanied the tea. “Spot on Sub Lieutenant. Just the job.”
Taking my mug of tea and a biscuit I sat. I smiled but I looked at their faces. Greaves looked pleased with himself. Rogers sat next to Newton speaking with him. Hood and Charlton were just happy to have a mug of tea, a biscuit and a cigarette. Hunt had the smug self-satisfied smile he normally wore. It made me want to slap his face just to remove it.
Bert Hepplewhite came in and gave me a piece of paper
“Well that went far better than I might have hoped. The barrel roll was spectacular. How was it all firing at once?”
Harry Greaves said, “If there had been anything in the way of the bullets they would have been destroyed. It was terrific.”
I nodded, “And how many bullets did you use, Mr. Greaves?”
“Oh I don’t know, probably twenty or so.”
I nodded. I looked at the paper Bert had given me, “You used a hundred and ten.” His face fell. “Mr. Rogers, forty and Mr. Newton, you did the best, twenty. As for you air gunners. You all used half a drum. I would like you to imagine that you are paying for the bullets you use. That way you will put them to better use.”
A seaman knocked on the door. “Message, sir, from the Captain.”
“Mr. Nash, would you read it.” He took it and I continued. “When we get to take on the Bolsheviks, Mr. Greaves, they will be firing back at you. You need to be patient. Having observed you for the past few days I am guessing that patience is not one of your strong suits.”