JET LAG!

by Ryan Clifford

  But for now his immediate and vital priority was the need to win over the human constituents of Purple formation. They were bewildered, confused and exhausted by the day’s events. This made them volatile and potentially dangerous. It was his task now to gain their confidence and unqualified support for the months ahead.

  22

  The Temporal Paradox

  The Prime Minister had just spent fifty minutes explaining the situation to the assembled group. They had eaten a sparse lunch and were in no mood for being fobbed off. Clearly, some of them did just not believe what was going on. Others were stunned and silent. Some were very angry and shouted the odds, hurling abuse at the PM. They reckoned that all of this drama was clearly a trick to test their initiative – well it wasn’t going to work – and the atmosphere started to turn nasty.

  Todd realised that he should now jump in. If he didn’t throw his full weight behind the PM, disaster could result and further bloodshed might occur. Todd stood up and remained silent, looking at his team until the hubbub receded and it was clear that all ears and eyes were trained on him alone. The Prime Minister realised at that precise moment that Todd Morrissey was a vital part of this operation.

  ‘Ladies & Gentlemen, I have a few words to say and perhaps you’ll show me the courtesy of hearing me out.’

  He paused for effect.

  ‘I am just as scared and disoriented as you are. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I have just shot and killed one of our colleagues – and a close personal friend - who certainly realised what is going on and tried very hard to exploit the situation. We have to face the hard evidence presented to us. If this is, indeed, a dream, then we are all dreaming it – and therefore we’d be better off by either accepting it – or just wake up! That is the first hurdle we need to clear. So, can I ask if anyone here is not prepared to listen further, and therefore is not prepared to accept the bizarre hand that fate has dealt us?’

  The meeting remained silent. Todd looked around the room, quietly willing the troops to agree to listen further. After a full sixty seconds had passed Todd continued. His father, the AVM, gave him his silent approval with a quick nod.

  ‘Okay, then, I will take it that at this stage everyone is prepared to listen further to what we have to say. Good, then I’ll continue. Yes, we are in nineteen forty. No, we don’t understand how that’s possible. Yes, we realise that this is like something out of Star Trek. No, we don’t believe in time travel. What we believe is irrelevant. WE ARE HERE - and we need to make the best of it. No, this is not a trick or a test or anything like that. This is as real as it gets.’

  One hand came up out of the audience.

  ‘Sir, what about our families – will we see them again?’

  ‘Thanks for that question, I’m sure it was on everyone’s lips. I’ll ask AVM Morrissey to answer that.’

  The AVM stood up and tried his best to explain how the aircraft had got here and the opportunity to return on September the eighth. He also pointed out that in 1940, very few people in his audience had even been born! He used the word ‘paradox’ and tried for several minutes to clarify the meaning of the word. He didn’t have much luck as most of his audience were far too bemused to comprehend! He'd probably need to visit a psychiatrist by the end of the day!

  *

  Note:

  (‘The term ‘temporal paradox’ has been used to argue that time travel must be impossible, because it is theoretically capable of resulting in a ‘paradox’. (Definition: a seemingly absurd or contradictory statement or proposition which when investigated may prove to be well founded or true.)

  It has been argued, however, that none of the supposed paradoxes formulated in time travel stories can actually be formulated at a precise physical level: that is, any situation in a time travel story can turn out to permit many consistent solutions. Nevertheless, the classic example of a temporal paradox is of a man travelling back in time to meet and kill his own grandfather as a child. Of course if he did that, he wouldn't have existed to travel back in time in the first place! This is the paradox.

  In the Star Trek episode featuring Joan Collins – ‘The City on the Edge of Forever’ – Captain Kirk travelled back to the nineteen thirties to ensure that Collins, playing a peace campaigner, actually dies in a road accident that is originally prevented by one of his crew. They had all travelled back through a Time Portal on a distant planet. Seconds after the Enterprise’s doctor plunges madly through the portal, the space ship in orbit disappears. Consequently, Kirk and Spock also need to travel back and prevent Collin’s survival – as she would have prevented America’s entry into WW2, and thus Hitler would have probably ruled Europe and prevented the US Space programme.

  The paradox is that once the doctor saved Collin’s life and the USS Enterprise disappeared from orbit, none of them would have been on the distant planet in any case!’)

  *

  Todd, praying for the appearance of that psychiatrist, broke in at that point.

  ‘So, if you can accept that we might get back in nine weeks, it makes sense to keep our aircraft serviceable so that they’re ready to go. And could it really hurt us to give the current war effort a small boost?’

  Squadron Leader Rick Hill of the Air Defence team stood up.

  ‘May I say something, Todd. I for one am prepared to give it a go. It seems to me that we’ve been presented with a unique opportunity to restore the balance of history. If we don’t make a contribution, then we’ll have wasted a real chance to make a difference. And if we are killed doing it – so be it. We take that risk every time we get airborne - I’ve flown combat missions in the Falklands and in Kuwait. I repeat, I’m for it. I regret that we have already lost a crew and a jet due to a terrible misunderstanding – but what's done is done. We will grieve for our colleagues in due course.’

  Slowly but surely heads started nodding around the room. Todd could see that he was carrying the day. He turned to the PM and gave his verdict.

  ‘I think that we need some orders, Prime Minister. Whether we like it or not - we have just become part of your Secret Army!’

  ***

  The next twenty-four hours was frenetic. Churchill reinforced his argument by stating that only a few hours before, on the first of July, a formation of twelve Spitfires from number 64 Squadron had been bounced by an unseen attacker. It came from no-where and disappeared without sighting. One Spit was lost and the others scattered. The RAF had a serious problem and Purple Formation were the only people that could possibly help. The PM knew that the mysterious and unsolved attacks were by a new type of jet and immediately grasped that it would probably take another jet - a superior British jet - to resolve the issue to Britain’s advantage. This assessment was confirmed by AVM Morrissey.

  The personnel of Purple were divided into fours and billeted in the Officers Mess. It was the most convenient building and had space for the entire detachment, but had been empty for some time. An army of volunteers were drafted in to clean the place up and fit it out with beds, seating, cupboards etc. A staff for the mess, taken from stations all over East Anglia, was recruited – all military – and they were told that they couldn’t leave the station until the end of September. By 8pm that evening, a miracle of organisation had occurred. All was ready for Purple to move in – and as they did so, a team of suppliers and tailors went from room to room taking measurements for spare clothing. A representative from the NAAFI turned up with toiletries for shaving and washing, and several psychiatrists were posted in to help with any mental health problems induced by the journey from 1992 – even though they had no concept of time travel! A service of remembrance for their four dead comrades was arranged for 10am the next morning. Todd also assembled his senior officers and initiated the infrastructure for a standard RAF Squadron. They gave it the name Purple to avoid confusion. Todd was the squadron commander, his father the Station Commander – so to speak – and each of the aircraft types had an officer in the chain of command. Todd reasoned tha
t one tight-knit unit would be better than five or six groups pulling in different directions.

  Another important job was to counsel the airmen. They would all be in a state of shock and disorientation, so the next morning from 1100, officers were instructed to interview every man under their direct command to ensure that they were: ‘OK.’ And by ‘OK’ Todd meant not ‘do-lally’ as a result of the journey across the time-space continuum. There were bound to be some psychological and emotional casualties, and Todd wanted to identify them as soon as possible. The ‘trick-cyclists’ could assist with this crucial task.

  As for Todd and his father, they needed to sit down and draw up a plan of action. There were a thousand things to consider and some needed to be done as quickly as possible. Firstly, they must carry out a complete stock check of equipment they had brought from 1992. So the AVM chaired a meeting with Todd, an officer from each aircraft type, an engineer, an Operations officer and an air traffic controller. Also present were similar representatives from the 1940 population.

  Clearly, the two teams would need to work together very closely if this plan was going to work – or even have a chance of working.

  23

  Middle Fleckney

  2 July 1940

  A large team sat round the conference table in the Station Commander’s outer-office. The Group Captain from Marham had been drafted in to command Middle Fleckney for the duration. It made common sense since he was the man who initiated first contact with Purple. Group Captain Wilfred Johnson was a round-faced, cheerful sort of chap in his mid-thirties. A typical RAF officer as portrayed in B-movies from the nineteen fifties - but he was nobody’s fool and turned out to be the lynchpin of the entire operation. He had a job to do and got on with it. No messing, no faffing and no wasted time. However, his jovial front and easy smile got him through most sticky situations, and airmen who knew him would happily follow him to hell and back. He was supported by all of the Marham staff who had witnessed the arrival of Purple the day before, so there was no need to exert any pressure – they all volunteered rather than be incarcerated!

  He knew exactly what was required and set about taking stock of the assets presented by the Purple aircraft formation, and quickly identifying those extras that would be required by Purple to complete this very special task.

  He managed this initial meeting with some flair.

  ‘Gentlemen, for those who do not know me, I am Wilf Johnson. A regular with twelve years’ experience. Done my bit in the Middle and Far East – so I have some experience of what I’m goin’ to be asking you to do. Firstly, I believe that it's important that we all know one other, and then take the first steps on the road to trustin’ each other. So, I’m going to ask each person in turn to give a short and concise pen picture of themselves, so we have an idea of what we all do and may be responsible for. I’ll kick off by statin’ that the Prime Minister has given me sole executive control over operations from this station.

  ‘SOLE EXECUTIVE CONTROL,’ was repeated for emphasis.

  That means that all decisions on Operations or policy go through me. However, I am not remotely like our ‘friends’ in Germany, so I will discuss most matters with AVM Morrissey before they are implemented. I cannot emphasise enough the importance and secrecy of our work. Gerry must not learn of it at any cost.’

  His audience round the table were at once impressed and reassured by his easy style.

  ‘Right, now that I’ve put the fear of God into you, lets kick off with the AVM here.’

  Each member of both teams at this level stood up in turn and gave a short pen picture of their careers to date. The 1940’s team sat open mouthed every time a 1992 man or women passed on their details. Clearly, the 1940’s crowd had some catching up to do – the 1992 technology was beyond their comprehension – and so both sides had a lot to learn.

  This executive committee had to work together if anything was to be achieved. The 1940 team needed the firepower and the 1992 team desperately wanted to get home on the eighth of September. One of the hardest things to avoid was letting the 1940 team know the outcome of the war – or indeed any little snippet from the future. Revelation of future events could be disastrous and might corrupt the timeline irreparably. Therefore, it was agreed that the 1940 team would not ask, and the 1992 team would not proffer information. Hopefully, this compromise would work. It must!

  The main players would no doubt become good friends. The AVM and the Station Commander; Todd and OC Operations (1940) - Wing Commander Rupert Browning; ATC Flying Officer Gloria King and SATCO 1940 – Squadron Leader Don Cornell; Engineering Squadron Leader Roy Byrd and OC Eng 1940 – Wing Commander Sid Laine; Admin Officer Patsy Jackson and OC Admin 1940 – Wing Commander George Carpenter.

  Also on the committee were the senior members from each aircraft type, Wing Commander Barclay Hunt (ADV); Squadron Leader Al MacDonald (Recce); Squadron Leader Al Norman (Canberra); Squadron Leader Andy Faithfull (VC10 Tanker) and Squadron Leader Julie Grant (C-130). The 1940’s team also included Senior Medical Officer, Squadron Officer Hazel Donovan; OC Security, Flt Lt Harold Ross and Wing Commander Harry Humphries who would liaise directly with HQ 11 Group - (Group Captain John Stead).

  This committee of eighteen seemed large but all interested parties must be kept fully informed. Clearly, the PM, Air Chief Marshal Dowding, AVM Park and AVM Leigh-Mallory were ex-officio members as was one of the psychiatrists. As was normal, members of this executive council would pass on information and flying tasks via the normal chain of command. All strategic planning would be done by this council which would meet twice daily – at 0700 and 1900 hours.

  Their first task was to assess capability and the logistic situation.

  It was established that by some sort of miracle, all remaining fourteen aircraft were serviceable. Flt Lt Steve Worthington, who had travelled on the C-130, would replace the deceased Anton Fischer as pilot on Crew four of the Tornado bombers. He was a young Australian on exchange and was very happy to play his part. The only other potential problem was Major Klaus Jung - a Dutch exchange pilot. However, like Worthington, he ached for the chance to have a go at the Germans – many of his ancestors had suffered terribly under the Nazi jackboot!

  Engineers were not a problem either. As cleverly pre-planned by AVM Morrissey, the C-130 had been carrying enough engineers for each aircraft type to survive in Italy for several days. Therefore the thirty-four men and women would be amalgamated into one flight of engineers, commanded by Squadron Leader Roy Byrd. All other personnel would be commanded by Todd – including a bemused Met Man – Jim Charles – who was more than a little bit puzzled by Churchill’s explanation of events – some critical issues concerning timeframes was not right. As a consequence, he had decided to request an interview with Todd to discuss certain issues of historical fact – when the situation had settled down a tad.

  Now that the personnel problems were being addressed; what about equipment and more importantly – fuel? The VC10 had been full of aviation gasoline but this would not last for eight weeks of operations - and they needed a certain amount for the last flight home. Although it carried almost seventy thousand kilograms of fuel in its eight tanks, this would only allow for approximately fifteen Tornado sorties. Besides that, the C-130 used different fuel. However, the council could not really see a need for the C-130 or the VC10 to actually fly again before September the eighth. It would unnecessarily expose them to enemy fire – so that was one problem easily solved.

  Nevertheless, the jets would need some more fuel from somewhere – and this is where the PM could help. He revealed that the RAF had also been experimenting with jet propulsion – and the fuel being used may well be adapted for 1992 aircraft use. It was decided to set up a separate team to handle this task. Other oils and fluids were plentiful and Liquid Oxygen wasn’t a problem either. The C-130 also carried spare air to air missiles, bullets and bombs – and the 1940s team indicated that they could also ‘adapt’ their bombs to fit 1992 aircra
ft. All in all, it was a reasonably satisfactory situation and with lots of hard work and effort it may be possible to combat the German threat.

  Once logistics and personnel had been addressed it was now time to think about security and tactics. RAF Middle Fleckney was six miles south-east of RAF Marham. Marham was a minor base with only reconnaissance missions and the odd Lysander flying from its basic strip. There was only a skeleton human presence – reduced even further by the secondment of many of their key personnel to Middle Fleckney. Furthermore the runway at Middle Fleckney was almost parallel to the main runway at Marham, so the 1992 aircraft need never overfly it. Consequently, RAF Marham was not a serious security problem and could be left to carry on its own basic task. The only minor change to Operations would be the introduction of a strict arrival and departure procedure which would keep prying eyes away from activity at Middle Fleckney.

  However, the departure route from Middle Fleckney would have to be considered very carefully. Although in 1940 the North Norfolk area was sparsely populated, the 1992 aircraft were noisy and conspicuous. It wouldn’t take long for complaints to start rolling in. Middle Fleckney must not draw unwanted attention to itself. It had been selected for its isolated location in the early thirties when Britain was experimenting with airships. Consequently it had a twelve mile buffer around it where nobody lived. This area was now patrolled by a special force of Military Policemen, determined to keep prowlers out. Their families were told that the policemen had been sent to Scotland for three months on special training. The policemen were told that they were protecting an important project vital to the war effort. Which, of course, they were.