by Vicki Beeby
‘I am. I’m not doing it for me any more.’ Evie pointed out to sea. ‘The Germans are only a few miles on the other side of that, and there’s nothing but the sea between them and us.’
‘The sea and our pilots,’ May said.
‘Yes. And that’s important. If we do our jobs properly, then they can do theirs. Unless we do our part, then everyone in Britain could end up like those poor boys. From now on, I’m doing my job for our pilots and for Britain. Are you with me?’
‘Count me in,’ said May.
‘What are you waiting for, then?’ Jess said. ‘Drive us back home. Me and Evie are on early watch tomorrow.’
Chapter Seven
In the days following their trip to Brighton, Evie and her friends went about their duties with fresh determination. They weren’t the only ones – a hum of expectancy hung over the station. More sandbags arrived and were added to the stacks around buildings, gun emplacements and observation posts. There were increased drills at different times of day, so everyone knew what to do in the event of a raid, and the orders to carry a gas mask and helmet at all times were enforced more strictly. When Evie was on duty, she was aware of everyone watching the plotting table like hawks, waiting for the hostile plots to appear from the Channel. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time. The Germans were moving their squadrons into position and when they were ready, they would strike.
‘It’s the waiting that gets to me,’ said Jess a week after their return from Brighton. The three girls had all got a break at the same time and were eating their lunch in the NAAFI. ‘I almost wish they would come so we could get it over with.’
Tin mugs and eating irons rattled on tables as a group of Hurricanes roared overhead. As well as the intensified preparations on the ground, all squadrons had increased their training flights and were also patrolling the coast, watching for signs of attack.
‘I know what you mean,’ Evie said, when the noise level had dropped. ‘But I can’t help thinking that when we do start, we’ll be looking back on days like today with nostalgia.’
‘Have you heard anything, May? You’ve been driving Peter Travis and Bob Law all round the country it seems. Surely they’ve let something slip.’
‘Even if they had, you know I couldn’t tell you. Loose lips, and all that.’
Evie nodded, pleased to see May gaining in confidence and able to assert herself. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘As a matter of fact, there is something I can tell you. Peter heard that the villagers were thinking of cancelling the midsummer dance.’
‘They can’t do that!’ Jess couldn’t have looked more upset if she’d heard Christmas had been cancelled. She half rose, and Evie wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d marched into the village, demanding they change their minds.
May waved her down. ‘It’s all right. It’s going ahead. They were worried about the blackout, but in the end, they boarded up the windows.’
Jess subsided. ‘You could have started with that. Nearly gave me a heart attack. It’s all very well putting my duties first, but a girl needs to let her hair down.’
‘Oh, I nearly forgot. The new pilots arrive tomorrow.’
Evie grinned at Jess. ‘That should make you happy.’
Jess scowled at her. ‘I meant what I said when I told you I was being serious from now on.’ Then her expression lightened. ‘Although it would be rude to ignore them. I mean, they’re a long way from home. It’s our duty to make them feel welcome.’
* * *
Alex stood outside the Admin block, watching the ten new pilots of Brimstone squadron climb out of the truck. The six pilots who had been with the squadron in France were arriving tomorrow, but Alex had asked for the Czechs to arrive a day early. He eyed them with a sinking heart. Bloody hell. If their flying matched their appearance, they were doomed. Even though they’d been issued with RAF uniforms, they still managed to look tatty. Top buttons were undone, ties loose, and instead of standing to attention when they lined up in front of Alex, they slouched.
Still, their job wasn’t to look good on the parade ground, but to fight Germans. Alex picked out Jiří Stepanek from the group, recalling his insistence he wanted to carry on the fight he’d started in Poland.
‘Welcome to Amberton,’ he said. ‘I’m Squadron Leader Alex Kincaith. Once you’ve been through the formalities in Admin and found your billets, I’ll take you to dispersal to discuss training.’
Blank faces. The men shuffled their feet and glanced at one another, eyebrows raised.
Damn. If they couldn’t understand him on the ground, what hope did they have when they were in the air, a flight of Bf 109s zooming down on their tails?
He repeated his greeting in Czech, and immediately there was a ripple of interest and the Czechs leaned in to listen. Thank goodness he’d brushed up on the language in the past couple of weeks.
Once he’d sent the pilots off to find their billets, Alex went to find the station commander. As luck would have it, Bob Law walked out of the door just as he reached the Admin block.
‘Did you get anywhere finding an English teacher for the Czechs?’ he asked Bob Law after they’d exchanged pleasantries.
Bob shook his head. ‘Not for want of trying, but there wasn’t anyone available. I’ve decided to make other arrangements and get a couple of our WAAFs to do it.’
‘Who?’
‘All in good time. I need to tell the girls in question first.’
A couple of hours later, formalities complete and the pilots’ meagre possessions stowed in their sleeping quarters, Brimstone squadron assembled in the new dispersal hut. Alex was impressed at how quickly it had been constructed, together with the dispersal pens for their Hurricanes, latrines and even a bunk room. The best feature as far as Alex was concerned was his office, in a separate room at the back of the hut. He had a feeling he was going to need to get away from the men from time to time.
He glanced around the hut at the pilots, all lounging in wicker chairs. Some had their feet upon the tables; some were slouched so low Alex couldn’t tell if they were awake or asleep. He addressed them in Czech. Later he would insist upon English, but he needed to be certain everyone understood. ‘My job over the next few weeks is to get you ready for operational flying. We will focus on three things: familiarisation with Hurricanes; tactical exercises and learning English. Until you’ve achieved the grade in all three areas you won’t be passed ready for operational flying. I can’t stress how important it is to get you operational as soon as possible. The Germans are only a few miles away, and unless we have enough pilots in the air, there will be nothing to stop them. I can’t begin to imagine what will happen if our fighters don’t stop them.’
‘We don’t have to imagine. We’ve already seen it.’
Alex paused, aware of his blunder. All these men had fled Czechoslovakia for Poland when the Germans had taken over their country. He’d read the reports on them. They’d all flown in combat over Poland, then escaped across Europe. The details had been sketchy, but he knew they must have slept rough and pilfered whatever food they could find on the way. Jiří Stepanek’s ragged appearance upon arrival bore testament to the tough conditions they’d endured while he’d been living in comfort here at Amberton. Worst of all, they had family and friends living under Nazi rule.
He frowned at the young man who had spoken – a man with black hair and intense blue eyes. The two rings on his sleeve showed he’d been awarded the rank of Flying Officer. ‘Milan Mašek, is that right?’ When the man nodded, Alex continued. ‘You’re right, of course, and I know you’re impatient to continue the fight. Well, so am I. But you won’t be allowed on operational flights until you know enough English to understand orders. Starting tomorrow, we’ll spend the mornings on training flights and afternoons on English and radio protocols.’
And God help the poor WAAF who was seconded to try drumming English into this rabble. He resolved to sit in on the first few lessons to ensure t
he men understood their importance.
* * *
Evie rotated her shoulders with a groan at the end of another tiring watch and tried stretching the kinks out of her spine. ‘I could murder a cuppa,’ she muttered to Jess, who had come off watch at the same time.
Before they could troop up the steps, one of the girls who had just arrived stopped them. ‘Flight Officer Hell— Ellerby wants to see you both right away.’
Evie glanced at Jess. ‘What about?’
‘No idea.’ The WAAF gave them a sympathetic smile. ‘Good luck.’
‘What have we done now?’ Jess wailed as they climbed the steps out of The Hole.
Evie shrugged, trying to look unconcerned, but her insides were churning. ‘We’ll find out soon enough.’ Try as she might, she couldn’t think of anything she’d done wrong.
‘What if she wants to transfer us? We could end up anywhere.’ By the time they’d paused outside Ellerby’s office, straightening their uniforms and smoothing their hair, Jess had convinced them both they were about to be shipped off to some isolated station in the far north of Scotland.
They entered and saluted when summoned. Ellerby looked up at them, her mouth turned down, lips pressed in a tight line. Although there were chairs by the desk, she didn’t invite them to sit.
‘Think you’re too good for the Operations Room?’ was her opening salvo.
Evie’s heart lurched. She opened her mouth, but Jess got there first.
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’ Jess stood to attention, staring straight ahead. ‘Have we done something wrong?’
Ellerby waved a sheaf of paper in the air. ‘This. I’ve seen you in the village pub, consorting with the officers. I’ve had a request for your services, and I can only think that you both used your wiles to make sure you were chosen.’
Was there any point in saying she didn’t have the first idea how to use her wiles? Evie wasn’t even sure she had any. ‘S-sorry, ma’am,’ she said, ‘what services?’
‘I’m talking about teaching English to the Czech pilots. Decided you were bored spending all day in Ops, did you? Thought you’d found an easy way to get out of your duties?’
‘Teach the Czechs?’ Evie’s voice came out in a strangled squeak. She didn’t know the first thing about teaching English, let alone to a group of pilots whose reputation for rowdiness preceded them. She exchanged glances with Jess and saw her confusion mirrored in her friend’s expression together with a gleam of excitement. Well, Jess could teach them on her own. She’d far rather stay in the Ops Room, where she was dealing with numbers. Numbers made sense. They weren’t frightening and never did anything unexpected.
In the end, she decided their best course was honesty. Clasping her hands tightly behind her back, she said, ‘I don’t want to get out of my duties, ma’am. I know how important they are.’ She held Ellerby’s gaze, willing her to believe them.
‘Honest, ma’am,’ Jess said, ‘we didn’t know a thing about it until now.’
Jess’s accent had slipped; oddly enough, it seemed to tip the scales in their favour. Ellerby’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Be that as it may, the matter is out of my hands. The orders come from higher up.’ She placed the papers upon the desk and folded her hands on top of them, regarding the girls steadily. ‘The station commander will explain your duties himself, but before you go through, I want to impress upon you the seriousness of the task.’ Her eyes flicked briefly to Jess. ‘If I hear of any inappropriate behaviour, I’ll have you back permanently in Ops, even if the Air Chief Marshall himself should ask for you. Understood?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ they both said. Evie’s stomach performed loop-the-loops. Now Ellerby would be waiting for them to make mistakes, looking for an excuse to remove them from a duty Evie didn’t even want. Still, if the order had come from the station commander, there was nothing to be done but accept the duty and do her best. While praying she didn’t earn Ellerby’s disapproval.
Ellerby held their gaze for a moment longer, then sighed. ‘Very well. You’ll still be expected to perform your usual duties, so I’ll be keeping an eye on you.’ She rose. ‘Come with me.’
She led them out to the station commander’s office, where she saluted smartly. ‘Bishop and Halloway to see you, sir.’ Then she left.
Trembling, Evie stepped forward and saluted, seeing Jess do the same at her side.
Bob Law greeted them with a smile. ‘Come in and sit down,’ he said. ‘Did Flight Officer Ellerby explain why I wanted to see you?’
Evie sagged upon the nearest chair. To her relief, Jess answered. Evie doubted her voice would work. ‘She mentioned something about teaching English to the Czechs, sir, but that’s all.’
Bob Law gave a wry smile. ‘Let me explain. At present, their English is rudimentary at best. Until they can obey orders in English and be understood over the radio, they would be more of a danger than a help in the air.’ He leaned forward over the desk. ‘I needn’t tell you the Germans are building up their forces on the other side of the Channel. We need Brimstone squadron ready for operational flying as soon as possible, and that means they have to learn English.’
‘But why us, sir?’ Jess asked, echoing Evie’s thoughts.
‘I’ve been trying to get hold of an English teacher for some time, but there are none available. That’s forced me to look to the staff already on the station to expedite the matter.’ He turned to Evie. ‘You have the most impressive academic record of the WAAFs on the station, and I gather you’ve done some tutoring.’
‘Well, yes, sir, but that was maths.’ And she’d been coaching shy girls for the Oxford High entrance exam or their school certificate, not a bunch of Czech pilots.
‘It’s still teaching experience.’ He addressed Jess. ‘Now, I know you have no teaching experience, but as an actress, you must be capable of commanding the room. And, of course, it requires a good understanding of language. Between the two of you, I have every confidence you can do a creditable job.’
Evie gazed at him in dismay but kept quiet. She quailed at the idea of teaching a roomful of men. Her only shred of comfort was that she wouldn’t be alone but have Jess’s company.
‘When do we start?’
‘Tomorrow afternoon.’ Bob handed her a file. ‘As you work in Ops, you’re familiar with radio communications. Here’s a list of the words the pilots need to use and understand, in addition to everyday English. The first lesson will be at fifteen hundred hours in the briefing room. You’ll find a list of lesson times in the file. I can’t release you from all your Ops Room duties, but I’ve worked lessons around your watches and arranged to release you from nights.’
As they were on their way out, Bob stopped them at the door. ‘By the way, Squadron Leader Kincaith will be sitting in on the lessons.’
Evie walked out of the Admin block, her head in a spin.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Jess hissed the moment they were out of earshot.
‘I know,’ Evie sighed. ‘How does teaching long division to girls qualify me to teach English to a bunch of pilots?’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Jess’s eyes shone. ‘We’ll be with pilots. And no more night watches. We won’t have to leave the midsummer party early!’
Despite herself, Evie couldn’t help laughing at her friend. ‘You’re incorrigible. What happened to taking our duties seriously?’
‘What could be more serious than preparing pilots for operational flying?’ Jess gave a cheeky grin. ‘And if it involves spending an hour a day with pilots, all the better.’ Then she pulled a face. ‘Pity we’ll have Kincaith sitting in on lessons, though. It won’t be so much fun with him watching our every move.’
Evie didn’t like to admit the thought of seeing Alex was the only crumb of comfort she had. ‘He speaks Czech, though. We’re going to need him to translate at first.’
‘I suppose,’ Jess said, looking doubtful. ‘Come on. Let’s grab some food in the NAAFI and plan our first lesson. I aim to dazzle.’
Chapter Eight
Alex paced outside Brimstone’s dispersal hut. Laughter drifted from within, followed by a crash that sounded like breaking furniture. He ignored it; he would deal with the Czechs later. All his attention was on the sky. The remaining six members of Brimstone squadron were on their way. Only a few minutes before he had to look them in the eye again, see their accusation. In his impatience to get back into the air he’d been able to ignore the burden of guilt for the most part but now he could feel his back bowing beneath its weight.
Soon the throb of Merlin engines reached his ears, and then he could see them: six specks against the blue sky. He wished time would slow down, putting off the moment when he had to face the surviving pilots from his former command, but before he knew it, the Hurricanes were swooping low over the airfield. All five made a perfect landing and, directed by the waiting Erks, taxied towards their dispersal pens. Alex became aware of his nails digging into his palms; he had to make an effort to unclench his fists before striding towards the newcomers with what he hoped was a convincing smile.
The canopy of the lead aircraft slid back, revealing the grinning face and bright red hair of Alex’s second, Flight Lieutenant John Harper. ‘Good to see you again, sir,’ he cried as he clambered to the ground. He disentangled himself from his parachute and handed it to one of the ground crew before jogging over to join Alex.
‘Welcome to Amberton.’ Alex swept a glance from Harper to the other pilots who had all now climbed from their Hurricanes and were gathering round. He couldn’t bring himself to look anyone in the face, dreading to see the glares of accusation.
Harper clapped Alex on the shoulder. ‘Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, sir. I’ve been pestering Group for weeks to return me to Brimstone. There was talk of being permanently assigned as instructors, but I wasn’t having any of it, and I know the lads here felt the same.’
There was a general murmur of agreement, and Alex finally dared to look his comrades in the face. He saw nothing but gladness and eagerness. These were the only ones who had survived their last mission in one piece. Where were the dark looks, the mutterings he had braced himself for? It was a shock to find acceptance when he was responsible for leading them into disaster. They were watching him expectantly, so he said a few words of greeting to each one, he hardly knew what.