Andrew Wareham
Bursting Balloons
Innocents At
War Series
BOOK FIVE
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Bursting Balloons
Copyright © 2017 by Andrew Wareham
All Rights Reserved
Contents:
Title Page
Copyright Page
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
By the Same Author
Introduction
Bursting Balloons: A spell in Britain on a morale boosting tour of factories and coalmines leaves Tommy and Noah distinctly underwhelmed and they are eager to return to France. Tommy’s squadron is eventually given the new Sopwith which proves to be an excellent fighter. As the war drags on, discontent spreads from the lower ranks up to senior level. However, the official line is that it is all going jolly well and plans are laid to break through the German defences near Ypres.
About the Series: The Royal Flying Corps grew from the amateur hobbyists flying the earliest and most dangerous machines. Mostly drawn from the Army and Navy, the pilots regarded themselves as gentlemen members of a new club. The Great War saw the death of amateurism - except in the higher ranks - and the unplanned, fortuitous creation of a professional force.
Innocents at War follows the career of Anglo-American flier, Tommy Stark, an enthusiastic boy forced to grow up quickly as many around him die. His deep affection for squire’s daughter, Grace is his only certainty as the bitter conflict threatens to strip the world of its innocence.
Best read in series order
Editor’s Note: Andrew’s book was written, produced and edited in the UK where some of the spellings, punctuation and word usage vary slightly from U.S. English. For example: the author uses the British/RFC alternative spelling, ‘taxy’ when referring to aircraft ground movements, rather than the now more common form: taxi. (Notes updated 18 March 2017)
Bursting Balloons
Chapter One
General Henderson was in grave mood at his HQ in London, staff to hand, offering his salute to Noah and Tommy.
“Sit down, gentlemen. First my congratulations on your, and our, successes. It is clear that the RFC has achieved almost total superiority in the air over the battlefield and the Western Front generally. It is also evident that the sustained campaign of ground attacks has contributed greatly to the very limited victory that has been attained on the Somme. Your squadrons, gentlemen, have played a leading part in these few successes. It would not be unfair to state, in fact, that the RFC has won its battles, while the Army has been defeated on the ground.”
Tommy caught Noah’s eye as he made to speak, shook his head. Noah might wish to build a post-war career in the RFC.
“I would like to respond to that statement, if I may, sir.”
The audience of three staff officers frowned – they did not expect to hear disagreement. General Henderson had spoken and that should have been the end of the matter.
“Go ahead, Major Stark.”
“The figures do not bear out a claim of victory, sir. The German Imperial Air Service had fewer planes than the RFC but inflicted very similar casualties. It is possible, in fact, that RFC losses were greater than German. The RFC outnumbered the German scout detachments quite markedly, sir. Although the fighting aircraft, especially the new Sopwith, did remarkably well, the reconnaissance and artillery machines continued to be butchered. The new Albatros and other planes will fly in the spring, and I suggest that when the Germans reach parity of numbers then they will begin to shoot down two or three of our aircraft for every one of theirs. I doubt the BEs and REs will survive at all. The FEs and DH2s will be unable to protect the ground-attack squadrons as they did over the Somme and the losses there will be unsustainable. Unless, sir, the training of pilots is massively increased, and the production of aircraft at least doubled, and new machines introduced, then I believe our present success will be seen to be wholly illusory.”
General Henderson did not respond with the outrage Tommy had expected, although the staff officers scowled mightily.
“There are new planes in production and development now which will do some good. There will be an increase in numbers, Major Stark. The problem of engines will be solved during the year, I believe.”
“And pilots, sir?”
“Training is showing an increase as well, Major Stark, but you will still be sent young men with fewer than twenty hours solo.”
Noah grunted, drew attention to himself before slowly speaking.
“That, sir, will give them between three and four times as many hours as they generally have at the moment. Hopefully that will mean fewer dying on their first day.”
“I cannot imagine that to have been a commonplace, Major Arkwright!”
One of the staff officers was moved to speech – angered by what he saw as disloyalty.
Tommy took over from Noah.
“My squadron of sixteen pilots lost eighteen between the first day of the Somme and the end of August. Nine of these were green hands. Two died on their first patrol and another four in their first week; I don’t know their all names; indeed, I never saw three of them to speak to. The remaining three died in their second and third weeks. Those that survived more than twenty days – which typically amounted to more than eighty hours flying – became competent pilots. Had they remained in England to attain those eighty hours, they might well all have lived. Those that I saw to die – which admittedly was only three, for most of them simply disappeared, unseen by any of us – were killed by their own bad flying. Their control of their aircraft was inadequate. Four of the pilots who were lost to us were only wounded, but three of them were experienced men, able to at least to partially avoid trouble. I must add that fourteen gunners died as well – my planes being two-seaters. I believe that no pilot should leave England with less than one hundred solo hours notched up. Had you had your Wings, sir, you might be qualified to comment on the importance of flying training and the death rate of the poorly trained.”
General Henderson silenced his aide’s retort.
“My staff are selected for other skills, Major Stark. If they had their Wings, they would be in France.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We are attempting to lengthen training courses, Major Stark. To that end we have called several squadrons home over the winter so that there may be an increase in the number of qualified instructors. A number of pilots
are in training in Canada and will be sent to England when they have passed out from the schools there. They will have been given longer courses. For the while, suffice it to say that I am aware of the reality of our casualties, and have some slight knowledge of those of the German Air Service. Outside of this office, the word is ‘success’ and no other may be said. Inside, it is probably true that the RFC lost more aircraft and pilots than the Germans in the period since the Somme commenced, but the total is a very few hundreds. In the light of overall casualties, how can we claim that figure to be high, gentlemen?”
“We cannot, sir. Have the figures for the first assault been released yet?”
“Not in full, Major Stark. Roughly sixty thousands in total, one third of them dead on that first morning. The bulk died in the first hour, it appears. The generals did not know that the barrage had failed, it would seem.”
“Then their staff officers should be put against a wall and shot for misleading them, sir. We told them repeatedly that the wire was uncut.”
“I repeat, Major Stark. The generals were unaware of that fact, and so all reports will say. You will say the same, sir. That is an order.”
“I am not in the habit of disobeying direct orders, sir. I shall comply. Inside this office, sir, I will say that I consider the generals and their staff to be no more than butchers – callous and uncaring of the lower orders of society.”
General Henderson made no reply; it was not the first time the comment had been made to him, but the government had ordered its minions to close ranks, to keep quiet.
“Now then, to your assignments for the next few months. Neither of you should fly long hours – you must rest, ready for the spring, to lead your men again into battle. It is obvious to me that you are much fatigued. Four months will do you good. You will spend four or five days of each week touring the country, gentlemen, inspecting factories and speaking to the people and attending patriotic functions. The government wishes to encourage the people to save more of their wages – and in some of the new factories those wages are very high. War Bonds, gentlemen, are a necessity – for some reason I do not understand, but the Chancellor of the Exchequer is most urgent on the needs for financial support to the government. The people must save more – and you will encourage them to do so. Speeches will be written for you, of course.”
Tommy began to choose his words carefully, then shrugged and said what he thought.
“If they are lies, sir, then I shall not deliver them! I have read the newspapers, sir, and will have no part of the untruths they vomit out every day.”
“You will both obey orders or face court-martial, gentlemen! That said, I, too, am aware of the nature of the newspapers. Your speeches will say that you, and all of the others at the Front, are doing your best and that you must have more of the best of equipment to do your jobs. You need more of guns and planes and shells and warm uniforms and medical dressings or whatever the factory may be producing. You know that only a few can fight and that the many must stay behind – but their work is necessary and valuable. By saving all they can, they may put more into the hands of the men and women at the Front and immediately behind it.”
Tommy and Noah both said they could accept that – it was true.
“I rather feared, sir, there would be some of this stuff about the villainous and cowardly Huns and straight-shooting sportsmen. That I could not abide, sir. What will we say if we are asked questions about that sort of thing?”
One of the aides took it upon himself to answer.
“You will always be accompanied by an officer from HQ, Major Stark. He will answer questions which you, as a pilot, know nothing of.”
“So be it. Will I be permitted to kick him if he sounds like the front page of the Daily Mail?”
General Henderson replied.
“No, Major Stark. I shall. Certain officers will be tasked to speak to our schools, to encourage young men to volunteer for the skies; they will be perhaps more in the way of enthusiasts and of a background appropriate to their audience. You will not be given that duty. I believe, in fact, that neither of you attended a school, so you would hardly be suitable.”
Noah smiled innocently.
“Ah… I must beg to correct you, sir. I attended an industrial school between the age of seven years and twelve, when I started work.”
General Henderson, familiar with Noah’s background, disapproving that he should ever have been made an officer but respecting his VC, straightened his face – with difficulty, observing the horror displayed by his staff. Industrial schools were so named for teaching habits of industry to idle boys scooped off the streets by the magistrates’ courts. They were generally believed to be the breeding grounds of criminals, succeeding only in bringing the villainous together at an early age so that they might teach each other the worst of bad habits. Many of the boys gained nothing from them, other than a hatred of authority and scars from frequent canings, but those, like Noah, who discovered books ended up with a wide-ranging knowledge of literature and history and some love of learning for its own sake.
“I was thinking more of the public schools, Major Arkwright – but your presence here, your rank and your honours testify to the virtue, the remarkable success, of your schooling. I do not know whether we might not be able to arrange for you to speak in some of the reform schools in the country – it might well be the case that some of the older boys might be encouraged to join our ranks and follow your example.”
“Thus, of course, sir, to demonstrate that pigs do fly!”
“I would not have said that, Major Arkwright!”
General Henderson was well aware that his staff might have. He signified that the interview was at an end.
The majors smiled, stood and readied to make their official farewells.
“Orders will arrive after the weekend, gentlemen. Where possible, you will fly to your speaking engagements – displaying the RFC to the local people. It may be possible to arrange for you to land in municipal parks, for example, thus creating a favourable impression in the towns.”
“Of course, sir, if we happened to crash in them it might have an opposite effect!”
“It might indeed, Major Stark. Do try not to crash, sir. Goodbye!”
“Didn’t want to be a colonel anyway, Noah.”
“Definitely not this year, Tommy. Shall we go home?”
They had been ordered directly from France to London; both wanted to be at the side of their hugely pregnant wives.
They signed out of the building, under the eye of the warrant officer who commanded the guard. Things had become far more formal since the days of a single elderly sergeant standing at the door. In some ways, the new system was an improvement.
“Travelling to Salisbury and then to Wilton, I believe, gentlemen?”
They confirmed that they were.
“Waterloo Station, sirs. Paddington is full of the Army these days. Very low conduct! Drunks to be seen everywhere – and the enlisted men are no better. Driver!”
The duty man appeared from inside the building, saluted as he saw the ribbons.
“These two officers to Waterloo Station and to be put into a first-class compartment on the Salisbury train. Warrants herewith.”
The driver acknowledged and checked the warrants – pre-printed forms these days, with blanks to fill in. Far more efficient than the old system of typed letters.
“Follow me please, sirs. The cars are parked behind the building. Have you baggage of any sort?”
They shook their heads; their kit having been taken from them by their servants when they had reached Waterloo East Station. Smivvels and Broughton had left directly for Salisbury and hopefully would be in residence by the time they reached their houses.
The driver led them through the ground floor, past a mass of small offices carved out of the large rooms of the old mansion by the installation of wood and glass partitions.
“Oi, Tommy! Noah! What are you doing in this den of iniquity?”
A lieutenant poked his head out of a door labelled ‘Photographic Intelligence’.
“Good God! Hell-For! What are you doing here? And who thought it appropriate to suggest you might have intelligence?”
“Bent a Bristol a few months back, not long after you left us, Tommy. Medical Board next month, should let me fly again. Appalling bloody place, this! Full of wingless wonders who know exactly how the war is to be won and just what we should do in the air.”
An austere voice from inside reminded Lieutenant Leather that they had not finished work for the day, pointing out as well that if the Board did not pass him fit, he would be stuck in that office forever and might consider offering a little of courtesy to its inhabitants.
“Must go, Hell-For – we have a train to catch.”
“I shall try for a posting back to your squadron, Tommy – or yours, Noah.” Then, pointing to the ribbons on Noah’s chest, he remarked, “Congratulations on the big gong, by the way – read about it, Noah, of course. Bloody well done!”
“Thank’ee kindly, squire. Watch the newspaper headlines for our next trick!”
They followed the driver again, rather saddened that a decent chap like Hell-For found himself in such bad company.
“Do you think it will rub off on him, Tommy?”
“Bound to. Months in proximity to that sort must have an effect. We should do what we can to rescue him as soon as we’re back in business, I think. Good pilot and knows which way to point a machine-gun.”
“A rare beast. Is this our car, driver?”
They veered towards a large and gleaming Rolls-Royce.
“No, sir. That is the General’s car, sir. Yours is over here.”
“What, a mere Vauxhall?”
“Got a wheelbarrow in the corner, sir. No other alternative.”
Bursting Balloons (Innocents At War Series, Book 5) Page 1