JET LAG!

by Ryan Clifford

  ‘Seems simple,’ thought Todd. And so it was – for a few days. If the Tornados could distract the Germans for a few vital moments, the young and inexperienced RAF pilots could get in amongst them and thwart their plans.

  Consequently, on this summer afternoon, two Tornado ADV crews found themselves on CAP high above the English Channel. They estimated that they could remain on patrol for over two hours before having to return to base. The first days play went exceedingly well. At about 2pm, on their second patrol of the day, Squadron Leader John Hortin and his navigator, Flt Lt Jon Holliday were leading the other ADV, which was piloted by Captain ‘PJ’ Proby with Squadron Leader Rick Hill in the back. They didn’t have long to wait. Rick Hill spotted a force of forty plus aircraft on his radar. They were well below and heading for Dover. Rick passed the information on a discrete radio channel to his colleague, and in turn John Hortin passed the details to the fighter controller on the ground. The operator sitting by his Radar set did the mental arithmetic in order to calculate when to attack, in order that the Tornados would scatter the Germans about thirty seconds before the scrambled Spitfires reached and engaged the bewildered enemy, and thus passed the exact TOT (Time on Target) to the ADV crews.

  The Tornados continued to monitor the enemy aircraft from high above – just tiny specks to the Germans below if they had bothered to look up – and waited for the TOT to arrive. At precisely the correct moment, both aircraft armed their guns and rolled in towards the enemy fighters. They approached from a very steep angle and from about thirty degrees off the tail - at high speed – around five hundred knots. The German formation continued towards Dover, just below a wispy blanket of cloud – not imagining that the enemy could ever approach from behind. They were scanning ahead and above for the RAF fighters coming from English airfields. They certainly weren’t expecting what they got.

  The effect was shattering. Both Tornados opened fire simultaneously – running right across the bomber formation. The Germans didn’t know what hit them. The powerful large calibre explosive rounds tore into the aircraft with no warning. Seven of the Bf109s just exploded. Five others suffered fatal damage and careered hopelessly towards the sea below. A further eight took multiple hits and would return immediately to base. Twelve were involved in mid-air collisions. The rest just scattered – totally confused and terrified.

  Both Tornado pilots made the standard post-attack call:

  ‘Fox-One!’ - a coded confirmation of a guns kill.

  The German crews didn’t even see the Tornados, which pulled up - now above cloud - and climbed steeply to thirty-thousand feet and immediately recovered to Middle Fleckney to refuel. It was at this point that the RAF Spitfire and Hurricane pilots arrived on the scene. They couldn’t believe their eyes. German aircraft scattered all over the sky, some plummeting towards the sea – pilots in parachutes – complete mayhem. It didn’t take long for the RAF boys to mop up the shambles dropped in their laps by the Tornados. Eight more German aircraft were shot down by the RAF fighters whilst the remainder just ran for home.

  It was the most successful day of the conflict so far. And the beauty of the situation was that no-one on either side could work out what had happened. The 1940s RAF pilots were as bemused as their German counterparts, and as a result many false and highly exaggerated kill claims were made at RAF debriefs. The Germans were perplexed. Thirty or more aircraft missing – presumed destroyed - without explanation was of great concern to the High Command, and Goering was personally involved in the investigation. This was a catastrophic day for the Luftwaffe and Goering determined that his Air Force would suffer no more of these humiliations.

  It was time to use the ‘Blaue-Tod’ for all-out attack.

  ***

  Herr Professor Willy Messerschmitt had been a busy man.

  Since he had been granted the licence to develop the Me 262 in the mid-thirties, his entire life had been taken over by this ‘Projekt’.

  He had been transferred to Kretinga in Lithuania in 1937 and was eventually given as much technical support as he required. Labour was not an issue – the Nazis had an endless supply of that – and engineers were recruited from all over the Reich and it's enslaved neighbours.

  Every now and then Hitler would take his eye off the ball, and distractions like invading the Sudetenland would occupy his mind to the detriment of the new jet development. But he kept returning to it, nudged by Goering, Milch and Galland who had a vested interest in bringing the Me 262 into service as quickly as possible.

  After the success of Adolf Galland’s flight in an early prototype and when Hitler himself witnessed the test at Kretinga, resources were stepped up markedly. Hundreds of engineers and labourers were shipped in and the engine manufacturers – BMW and Jumo (Junkers) – were pressed to deliver the product that Messerschmitt insisted upon. In fact conventional aircraft production suffered markedly as a result.

  Nevertheless, by 1939, four variants of the Me 262 were under development – the ‘Interceptor’, the ‘Fighter-Bomber’, the ‘Reconnaissance’ and most importantly – the ‘Night-Fighter.’

  There were rapid improvements in radar, engine-power, flying range, operating altitude, weaponry and handling skills – even superior and experienced pilots had to go through nine stages of flight training to enable them to master the complex operating and handling skills.

  However, one problem could not be fully reconciled – until mid-1940. There were problems with producing the alloys for jet-engine construction due to the high temperatures involved. Luckily, a Czech engineer collaborating on the project made a significant breakthrough, and as a result many more improved engines were beginning to come off the production lines in Germany.

  The initial batch of thirty Me 262s were built and delivered – ten Interceptors, ten Fighter-Bombers, five Night-Fighters and five Recce-jets. Many more were under construction by late July 1940 - and would soon be needed, as losses were beginning to mount.

  Nevertheless, the Herr Professor was extremely pleased with his work – as were Hitler and Goering.

  The war against the British airfields - Adlerangriff or Eagle Attack - was about to start.

  37

  Downing Street

  25 July 1940

  The conversations with Jim Charles and Todd had side-tracked the AVM and he was discussing the issue with the Prime Minister.

  ‘The whole situation is surreal anyway, and I don’t think that we should allow a few minor historical inconsistencies to distract us from the task in hand. I see no reason to inform the people from 1992 as it may only serve to divert them from the main purpose of our visit to 1940.’

  Churchill was in complete agreement.

  ‘I fully concur, Air Marshal and suggest that we keep this – shall we say - ‘delicate’ information to ourselves. Our priority must be this, specific time-line – this is the one we have to negotiate. Can you deal with your son? I will talk with Sir Peter – he will have no problem with accepting, and disregarding, these wholly irrelevant revelations. That leaves the man Charles. What shall we do about him? Can he be trusted? Or do we need a more permanent solution?’

  The AVM grimaced.

  ‘I suppose by permanent, you mean an unfortunate but fatal accident for our friendly Met Man?’

  ‘That's up to you, Air Marshal. If you can trust him and he’ll co-operate – then that's fine. If not, we may have to take certain precautions – however unpalatable they may be. We have the greater good to consider.’

  ‘I’ll speak to him on my return. Now, can I mention some other vital issues concerning Radar and the tactics you are using. Additionally, we should talk about the Me 262 and it's earlier than expected appearance in the skies above Britain. This is certainly one aspect of Charles’ discoveries that we must take seriously.

  38

  Methwold, Norfolk

  July 1940

  Sir Peter Andrews became aware of a funeral and memorial service for the wife of Air Vice Marshal Morrissey, and
asked if he could attend as a mark of respect for his new ally.

  It was a simple affair and on his return to Methwold, a letter was sitting on his desk. It was handwritten and addressed personally to Sir Peter, having arrived in the morning post.

  He opened the envelope and read the contents of the letter carefully, going over it several times.

  By the time he put it down, tears were streaming from his eyes:

  Dearest Father,

  I write not to distress you, but rather to enlighten you regarding my presence in 1940.

  You will have realised that I accompanied my husband, Henry, into this time period and that by now I have passed on.

  For some reason it does not seem possible for the same ‘soul’ to exist in the same timeframe, and in order for your young daughter Constance to awaken from her coma, I needed to die.

  I do not regret this for one second as I fully achieved the purpose of my visit to your world.

  It will sadden and surprise you to know that in ‘my’ 1940, some fifty-two years ago, your son and my brother, Phillip, was accidentally killed whilst out on one of his cycling ‘adventures’. Two soldiers guarding Middle Fleckney and the 1992 aircraft came upon him, and a tragic mishap occurred, resulting in his death.

  No-one was directly to blame – but the entire family was heartbroken and utterly distraught by the loss. You never got over it and neither did any of us.

  Consequently, I embarked on a plan of action which might present me with the opportunity to change the outcome of the accident - and save Phillip’s life.

  To cut a very long story short, I plotted and planned and manipulated until I attained my purpose and arrived here, in 1940, on the first of July.

  I waited for Phillip to appear at the wood where the accident was to occur, and ran to his aid when he needed me most.

  I am the woman that saved his life that afternoon.

  My reward is that Phillip, you, mother and Constance can now fulfill their lives in peace and harmony.

  Perhaps one day you can show ‘your’ Constance this letter.

  All my love, for all time,

  Constance.

  39

  Middle Fleckney

  1 August 1940

  The weather closed in over the next few days and only sporadic contact with the enemy was possible. The Germans continued to test the British defences and the war of attrition continued. The British realised that they couldn’t possibly win such a war – but they wouldn’t let the Luftwaffe attack unchallenged.

  The two remaining Air Defence Tornados had played a blinder on the previous Sunday but unfortunately both aircraft lay unserviceable in the hangar at Middle Fleckney. One aircraft had a CSAS problem (flying controls) and the other had a radar snag. The lack of spares was a very real problem, nevertheless the 1992 groundcrew were doing their best in unusually difficult circumstances.

  Todd and the executive committee had to make a decision. Was it time to start raiding one of the Recce Tornados for spare parts, so that the other six Tornados could continue flying? It was a strong argument since the Canberra PR9s were in good shape and could do the same job as the Tornado – and fly longer & higher if necessary. Obviously, the Recce crews were unhappy about the proposal, but as Todd explained, they could operate as spare crews for the bombers. Eventually, after a great deal of discussion it was decided to convert one of the Tornado Recce variants into a ‘Hangar Queen.’ This was groundcrew jargon for an aircraft abandoned in the hangar used entirely for spare parts.

  However, this decision had ramifications. What would happen to the spare and unflyable aircraft when the 1992 team returned to their own time – or at least tried to return – on the eighth of September. Sir Peter Andrews came up with the solution.

  ‘Why don’t we mothball what’s left, store it securely and arrange for it to be accessed in ten or twenty years’ time. Surely our engineers of the future could use such technology to give Britain a head start in the development of advanced jet fighters.’

  Todd answered for all those present.

  ‘I’m not sure that would be the right thing to do. Couldn’t that be conceived as interfering with the time-line and changing the course of history? I mean, might that not give us a weird sort of unfair advantage?’

  Todd’s father answered him.

  ‘What do you think we are doing now, Todd? Believe me when I say that mothballing the Recce Tornado for future use is exactly the right thing to do.’

  AVM Morrissey turned to Sir Peter Andrews and issued one terse request.

  ‘Sir Peter, I suggest that this aircraft is indeed mothballed and stored, in secret, at a small airfield near Preston, called Warton. It should be guarded and hidden well. Furthermore, I recommend that its location is only revealed to a man whose name I will place in a sealed envelope to be held by the Prime Minister’s office until 1 January 1960.’

  The penny dropped. The more astute of the executives around the table immediately realised the meaning of this request. The Recce jet would be put to good use in the future. Warton was the home – in the year 1992 – to one of the greatest aircraft manufacturers Britain had ever produced – British Aerospace!

  They indeed would inherit an incredibly unfair advantage.

  ***

  The meeting continued and next considered the role of the remaining aircraft available. Four bombers, two Air Defence fighters, one Recce jet, two Recce Canberras and one ECM (Electronic Counter Measures) Canberra. There was also the not insignificant problem of morale amongst the aircrews.

  The VC10 and C-130 crews had not flown since arrival in 1940, and were unlikely to do so until the eighth of September. Consequently, it was important to keep them actively employed on other duties – to give them a purpose so that they felt that they were contributing to the combined effort. An efficient man is a happy man – and vice versa - so Todd appointed Squadron Leader Julie Grant, the senior crewmember from the C-130 to head the team dealing with flight planning, man management and, most importantly, morale.

  She would make sure that every officer not directly involved with flying had a specific job to do. From running the canteen to organising sports events to counselling duties. Julie Grant had a natural flair for this type of work, and by early August there wasn’t an officer or airman in the group she didn’t know or hadn’t spoken to. She interviewed all personnel and allocated secondary duties to everyone according to their interests, qualifications and strengths. She was elected to the executive team and attended daily meetings, where she kept the senior staff up to date on matters of morale. It was a great weight off Todd's mind and meant that he could concentrate on the main aim – that of co-ordinating flying operations.

  The long term weather forecast was good. It showed that an area of high pressure was moving in from the Atlantic and that the English Channel area could expect excellent flying weather over the next few weeks. This didn’t actually help team 1992 since they preferred to hide in bad weather, so that the Germans were kept guessing about their presence. Sir Peter Andrews realised that the Germans must have some idea of what was going on – as the British knew about the ‘Blaue-Tod’. But it was essential that the truth about team 1992 was never discovered. He had to admit, it was a pretty difficult secret to keep, but if they could just keep it quiet until the eighth of September, there would be no concrete proof – only speculation, hearsay and circumstantial evidence.

  Todd was obliged to search out and find the new bases housing the Luftwaffe jet ‘Blaue-Tod’– real name – Me 262, so that they could have another go at destroying them in their own nests. The Me 262 had been plaguing the RAF for the past few days. They would accompany the main force, but would remain and lurk at high altitude and up sun. Their sky blue camouflage made them almost undetectable. As the two main antagonists battled over the Channel, the Me 262s would wait their turn and as the Spitfires disengaged after running out of fuel, the Luftwaffe jets would scream in after them causing significant losses for the
RAF. Fifteen Spitfires and twelve Hurricanes had been lost in this way over the past three days. The British were at a loss what to do. The ADV Tornados were no help as they were unserviceable, so the success of their initial mission on the twenty-eighth of July had yet to be repeated. The RAF Spits and Hurricanes couldn’t chase the Nazi jets, as they couldn’t match the incredible speed and climbing power of these formidable aircraft.

  However, the losses to the RAF could not continue. Therefore, it was decided to launch the Tornado bombers and the ECM Canberra to try to pre-warn the 1940s RAF of inbound Me 262s. The Canberra would set up a patrol at high level, out over the wash. It could remain on station for several hours without refuelling. It would listen out on its sophisticated electronic equipment and when it heard the incoming Me 262s, the Canberra crew would do two things.

  Firstly, they would jam the German inter-aircraft transmissions and saturate their frequencies with mind-numbing ‘white-noise.’ Secondly ,they would scramble the four bombers who would be fitted with guns and Aim-9 Air-to-Air missiles (AAMs). The adapted Tornado bombers would intercept the Me 262s before they could reach the homeward bound RAF aircraft, and hopefully prevent further carnage. It was an excellent plan in theory – but would it work?