Dark Days Of Summer (Innocents At War Series, Book 4)

by Andrew Wareham

  “We shall watch for it, sir. When can you be operational, Noah?”

  “Depends on the mechanics, Tommy. They should arrive this evening, be set up by morning and have us ready to fly by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’ll take you out for familiarisation, Noah. Both squadrons together. It will do the new men no harm to have another outing in company. What do they call policemen, these days?”

  “Bastards?”

  “No – can’t use that as a nickname.”

  “Flatfoot would do,” Colonel Kettle suggested.

  “What about Rozzer? Very popular in the comic books.”

  “That will do. One of the new pilots, from Norfolk. Don’t know if he can fly yet, but he looks like a solid man. The other four are just boys – if they live out the week, they may become pilots. Not worth giving them a name.”

  Noah nodded.

  “Same with most of mine, Tommy. I’ve spent the months trying to turn them into fliers, but they still think it’s a game. Half of them are forever talking about the scores they are going to make.”

  Colonel Kettle was not surprised.

  “I shall put in now for the replacements for next week, I think. We will need them and it will be better if there’s no delay.”

  Frank wandered across as they left Colonel Kettle’s office, taking great pains to be unmilitary. The five new men marched beside him.

  “Who goes where, Tommy?”

  “Fred’s official second in the squadron. He needs one man, Mr McMurtrey will do. Mr Callaghan can be yours and that means Mr Smith goes to Blue. You, Rozzer, are mine, as is Mr Gale – I suppose that must be Breezy.”

  Frank grinned and said that Windy would not be acceptable.

  “I’ll tell Jim, Tommy.”

  “Do so. Flight Commanders to decide how to go about things for today. Give David a whistle for me, will you, Frank? Flying in fifteen minutes. Have your trunks arrived, gentlemen?”

  Rozzer spoke up, rather pleased to have been named.

  “Came with us, sir. They said it was policy now, sir, that they should – saves us having to go weeks without a change of clothes.”

  “Good to know they have finally woken up to reality, Rozzer. Have you got scarves and gloves?”

  “Not uniform pattern, sir.”

  “To my knowledge, there ain’t one.”

  “I brought my night-shift woollies, sir. Cold on the clifftops of Norfolk, sir.”

  “Sensible move. Get silk – order them from home if you can. I’ll send to my wife for them, if you can’t arrange them. Silk don’t freeze on you when it gets wet. Both of you waiting at your planes, warmly dressed, in thirteen minutes from now.”

  Four observers stood in a line in front of Tommy’s Flight.

  “Might be a Jerry in the air, sir. Don’t ever want to fly without the Lewis, sir.”

  David’s observer made the comment, deadpan, not quite challenging.

  Tommy accepted the men’s decision – there was no gain to upsetting them.

  “Quite right, Flight-Sergeant. Who’s which?”

  Quack stepped forward.

  “I am your observer, sir.”

  “I should have guessed, should I not? Thank you, Quack.”

  Tommy turned to the other six, now in their pairs, the two new pilots having been selected by their observers, equally new.

  “Put your sergeant’s stripes up, before you next fly. No privates in the air, if you please!”

  “Flight-Sergeant Bolton – would you take a list of names of the new observers for me, please. Get it across to the Adjutant for action.”

  Bolton was senior man present, in terms of his job rather than his rank which was equal to several of the observers. He held up a neatly written, obviously prepared, piece of paper.

  “Will do, sir.”

  Either he was a very poor squadron commander, who had to have his hand held, or he was an outstanding leader who encouraged initiative in his men; Tommy had a strong suspicion that the first applied. Perhaps he must give just a little more attention to his desk, but not till after they had returned to the ground.

  “David, I would like you to fly number four today. Rozzer, you will be in the two position. That is between forty and fifty feet to my rear and right and thirty feet higher than me. Follow me at all times, watching my position and keeping an eye out for Breezy and David. Breezy, you are three, which is the same position on the left. Both of you will watch me, and the sky to right or left respectively, and up and down. If you see anything in the air, raise a hand to me and then point. I shall be watching. If we should become involved in a fight, then you are at liberty to kill any and every Jerry you see. If you shoot at me, I shall be cross!”

  Rozzer permitted himself a small smile.

  “Ah, sir, David said that we should call you Tommy when you use our nicknames. Is that true, sir? Is it a leg pull? Sometimes the humour in the RFC is a bit vigorous, sir.”

  “If I use name and rank, then it’s ‘sir’ and salutes. When possible, it’s Tommy. If you see brass, then be very formal and salute everything in sight.”

  “Yes, Tommy.”

  “Good. The engines will be warm, so we will be able to taxy immediately. Just keep an eye on oil pressure and move as soon as it is up. If you have any doubts about the engine, return to the field. If the engine stops, continue straight ahead and land as you can. Look about you and learn the landmarks – don’t get lost. Your observer will have a big stick in his cockpit. If he hits you with it, turn left or right, depending on which side he hits. Up you get!”

  All four got into the air, which was a good start, Tommy supposed. He saw movement from the other three Flights, presumed they were all on the same task. Much as he had expected – they knew what he wanted.

  He climbed steadily, five hundred feet a minute, well short of the Strutter’s capacity. Both Rozzer and Breezy were in position, give or take a few feet now and then; they had not learned to anticipate thermals, to respond immediately, but that demanded a feel for the particular plane – each type behaved differently – and would take many hours in the air.

  He watched them carefully, holding on the safe side of the lines for the first thirty minutes. Rozzer was watchful, head turning, looking up and down as well as sideways; he was relying on his observer to look out to the rear, just occasionally glancing at David. Very good, but his observer might be hit by a stray round, or have a heart attack, or some other unlikely but lethal piece of bad luck; Tommy would mention that to him, that he must check every minute or so that his observer was still active. Breezy not so alert – but perhaps it came naturally to a policeman, to watch everything and every movement.

  Tommy glanced back at Quack, saw him half-stood in his cockpit to see better down to either side. There was a grin on his face, enjoying every second of his first patrol.

  The flight reached five thousand feet, as high as Tommy needed on a first outing; he raised a hand and signalled a turn to port, leading them gently round. The two new men responded well – they had been taught the basics and lost almost nothing in height. Time for their first exposure to Archie.

  Tommy took them through a desultory barrage, altering height and line and avoiding a predictable path. Nothing exploded closer than three hundred feet distant – safe from all except the most unlucky shell fragment. They were eight miles to the north of the probable area for the attack on the Somme and it seemed possible that the Germans were shifting guns along the line, thinning them out in the quieter sections in order to concentrate them where they expected to be busy. That must be discussed with Wing. He looked about him, could see very little of interest on the ground and nothing at all in the air. They had been out an hour and the new boys would be getting tired – first patrol was exhausting, burning up the energy; he turned them for home, back through the guns, equally thin on their return.

  Reaching the field, he took them into a slow circuit and then fired a green flare, formally announcing their presence a
nd requesting landing. There was no response, no red to wave them off, and he brought them into the wind and led them down carefully and quietly, speed just right and all by the book. If he cut any corners, they would follow his example, so he landed in the middle of the field and taxyed across to the hangars, rather than dropping in fifty yards from his parking point as was his habit. They would learn how to misbehave without him setting the example.

  “Well, gentlemen?”

  “I say, sir, is the anti-aircraft fire always like that?”

  “No, Breezy. That was very quiet and distant. You noticed that I varied height and track as we went through? The gunners have range-finders which work out where we will be in a few seconds so that they can set their fuses. So, never go where they expect you to. If you can just see a black cloud of smoke, the distance is safe. If you can smell the explosive, it’s getting close. If you see a red flash in the middle, you are inside the danger area – get out!”

  “Then we were safe both times today?”

  “More or less, yes. If one of the fuses is faulty, of course, it may explode in the wrong place and that could be problematic. But, as far as you are ever safe when you’re up, then that was.”

  “Oh!”

  “Make your report to Bridge – always speak to him after a patrol. Then go and write up your logs – do that before you forget the details. Then come across to the Mess for a cup of tea and a discussion of your mistakes. Don’t worry! You made very few, and obviously, none were serious – they can’t have been, you are still here.”

  Tommy turned to the observers, waiting their turn with Bridge.

  “All well?”

  They nodded – it would not have done to make a spoken comment about their officers, or not publicly.

  Tommy called the Flight Commanders to him at the end of the afternoon, trying to give the impression of a normal briefing. All of the new men knew that it was to discuss them.

  “Both of mine will do. They might even survive for a week or two. Fred?”

  “McMurtrey can’t concentrate for more than two minutes at a time. His mind wanders – pretty clouds, traffic on a road, a brigade of cavalry on the move. Instead of noticing them, he stares at them unbroken. I have spoken to him, but he won’t last the month.”

  “Pity. Nothing to be done for him – he will teach himself or die. Frank?”

  “Callaghan will make a good pilot, with normal luck. He doesn’t trust his observer yet, but that comes with time.”

  “Good. What about your lad, Blue?”

  “Smith, Tommy. Easily forgettable name, which is pretty fortunate. He can’t fly – landed like a bloody kangaroo - and might win in a village idiot contest with Angus. Bad luck on his observer.”

  “Ground him?”

  “Not yet, Tommy. What I want to do is send him up on his own for circuits, to practise his landings for an hour or two tomorrow morning. Should solve his problems, one way or the other.”

  Tommy could see nothing wrong with Blue’s solution; there was no place for passengers and a pilot who could not hold formation exposed the others of his Flight.

  “I’ll have a word with Pot. Did you notice anything about Archie while you were up?”

  They agreed that the guns had been thinned out along the northerly sections of their sector.

  “Don’t know what to do about it, but we ought to try to bring them back. I’ll see what Pot says.”

  “Need to put in for two more machines, sir. We shall certainly lose two buses in the next fortnight while the new men settle in.”

  Colonel Kettle noted that the request would be coming across his desk in the immediate future. He could not actually indent for the new planes until they were written off strength, but he could speak to acquaintances at the Air Park and have two replacements earmarked for his use. The Corps was still small and the colonels all knew each other, which allowed for back-scratching.

  “Two more pilots, I presume, Stark?”

  “Two for sure, sir. One is good while he’s thinking about what he’s doing, but seems to have the soul of an artist – his eye captivated by the beauty, or otherwise, of the scenery. The other is simply no good. Scraped through training because we’re short of bodies – they should have failed him, so that he could die more usefully as a subaltern of infantry!”

  “Make sure their next-of-kin and paybooks are up to date, Stark. Too much bloody paperwork when the details are missing. Still get letters coming in from London requesting information on missing second lieutenants and cadets who were sent out last year and are unaccounted for. One-day-wonders whose names were never recorded by their squadrons!”

  Tommy shrugged – there would be more of that sort when things hotted up in the Big Push.

  “We are still low on bombs, sir. I doubt we have sufficient for two days’ work at the moment. On that topic, I would like permission to beat up the rear of the German Trenches to our north. They have moved a good half of their guns out, and if they’ve gone south, we want them to come back again.”

  The discussion lasted until dinner, and they then decided to talk together to Maurice Baring before they asked permission to change policy.

  “We’ll go across to HQ, Major Stark. Major Arkwright will join us – only courtesy to show his face on first joining in command. I spoke with Baring on the telephone first thing.”

  The staff car was comfortable, which was fortunate, for the road surface was truly appalling.

  “Too many loads of shells, gentlemen. They have pulverised the tarmacadam. Something must be done before winter or there will be nothing but mud.”

  “Who will pay, sir?”

  “God knows, Stark! Not the Frogs. They won’t pay for anything. Hats on when we get there, everything precise and formal – there’s another bunch of staff officers come out from London, most of them pink-cheeked little boys whose mothers are the wonder of Mayfair. Not a set of wings between them but carrying medal ribbons and promoted early! The Tsar sent another bunch of his Orders, and the King of the Belgians has done the same, and they have all been dished out between the staff officers. There has had to be an order from on high to forbid the award of the DSO to staff officers who have never seen battle! Bloody disgraceful!”

  Noah realised why he had been brought along. Boom Trenchard knew him already, as did Baring. He was there solely for the VC and the irritation it would cause to staff officers who knew that that was one decoration they could not fiddle for themselves.

  They stepped out of the car, the driver running to collect Colonel Kettle’s attaché case. The old rules that officers could carry nothing applied here now.

  There was a sergeant at the desk as they entered the main building; he stood and came to attention.

  “Colonel Kettle to speak to Mr Baring.”

  “Sir!”

  The sergeant signed to an orderly to escort them.

  “We know the way, sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir. Orders are now, sir, that…”

  “Balls, sergeant!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  They walked along the short corridor that led to the stairs to the senior offices – the higher, the more important.

  A colonel appeared at the top of the staircase, started down, spotted Noah’s ribbon and gave way to him, stepping back up to the landing. He saluted; all three responded.

  The corridor was wide enough for two to walk abreast comfortably; Tommy eased back, let Noah and Colonel Kettle go first, smirking as the way cleared in front of them.

  They turned into Baring’s office.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. General Trenchard wishes to discuss the policy of bombing with you, as you expected. We had the movement of anti-aircraft guns confirmed by photograph at dawn, and agree that a solution is needed.”

  Ten minutes of polite conversation and a roar from Trenchard’s office told them he was ready.

  “Come in… sit down. Major Ark… wright! First time… I have seen … you since… Well done… sir! Now!
Guns! Bombing… or what?”

  Colonel Kettle took this as an invitation to speak.

  “I see three possibilities, sir. I think we all agree that the anti-aircraft guns must be pulled back from the Somme if it can be done. So, sir. Attacks on the lines to the north, by bomb and machine-gun; bombing by the Sopwiths in the support area behind the lines; bombing by Twenty Squadron in its RE7s in the whole general area. I prefer the third option, sir. My squadrons can act as fighters to protect the RE7s from the air and we should be able to do some damage between us.”

  “Baring?”

  “We do not wish to alert the enemy to the capabilities of the Sopwiths, sir. They should not be made aware that the Strutters will be attacking their trenches. I am much inclined to support Colonel Kettle’s third suggestion, with the addition of the BE2cs that have been modified to act as single seat bombers; a few of them have survived. Give the impression of opportunism on our part, sir – we have noticed the missing guns and are taking advantage of them. The Sopwith is to be a fighter in the eyes of the enemy, until the very last minute. The recent attack on the balloon site was made with guns only and they may well have concluded that the machine will not function with bombs – that we have altered its purpose.”

  “Makes good… sense!”

  Colonel Kettle agreed, made to stand.

  “Wait… Colonel. Balloon site… Stark. Damned good… show! Other squadrons… will do… the same. Later in the… month. Following your… footsteps… again! New Sopwiths in… September. You and… Major Ark… wright… will get… the first. Show how… to use… them.”

  “Thank you, sir. I hear they are to be fighters only, sir – single-seaters.”

  “Yes.”

  “We shall need them, sir, if Jerry is to have these new hunting groups. I presume they are copying our squadrons, sir. We can expect to see dozens of machines fighting, sir.”

  “Good. You will… own the sky. Clear the… air. No Hun… over our… lines.”

  It sounded an unwise, and very predictable policy, but there was no gain to arguing.