by Dan Walsh
“Hello. My name is Renée. I’m a friend of Jack Turner. He’s a pilot who flies Spitfires at your base. Do you know him?”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. My English is not too good. I am pilot from Poland. I fly a different plane. But I think I know this Jack.”
Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by a series of loud noises. “Hello?” she said. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, Yes. I’m still here,” he said loudly. “We were bombed short time ago. Very much damage. Men cleaning up behind me.”
“Yes, bombed,” she yelled back, then realized her yelling was unnecessary. “My friend, Jack Turner…we were on this same phone three hours ago when the siren went off. He had to hang up to fly his plane. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand. Some of our pilots take off and fight German planes.” The loud noise stopped just as he finished. “Many planes shot down.”
“Do you mean our planes or German planes?”
“Many German planes. But first they drop bombs. One of our planes also shot down, not far from here. But who is flying, I don’t know.”
Her heart sank. Oh God, please don’t let it be Jack.
“I must go now,” the pilot said. “Help to clean damage.”
“Please, sir. If you see Jack, would you please ask him to call me at this number?”
“What is the number?”
“He knows it. I’m at my hotel in London.” Then a thought. “Sir, do you know Jack’s friend, Joe?”
“Joe? Yes, Jack’s friend. I know him better than Jack.”
“If you see him, would you ask him to call me?”
“Yes. I can do that. Does he know your number?”
“No. Do you have something to write it down with?”
“Give me a moment.” She heard some scratching sounds and static. “Okay, I’m ready.”
She gave him the information and thanked him several times before hanging up. The words, “one of our planes also shot down,” replayed in her mind, over and over. It had to be Jack. Why else wouldn’t he have called? She glanced up at the clock. It was almost 8:15. She’d forgotten to eat anything for dinner.
She still wasn’t hungry.
The telephone rang. Renée shot up from the bed. She looked at the clock. An hour had gone by. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, just to rest her eyes a few minutes and pray. She ran to the phone and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“I have a phone call for you from a Mr. Joe Basset.”
“Yes, please put him through.”
“Hello? Is this Renée?”
“It is, Joe.”
“I’m sorry I’m calling so late. I just got a message from this pilot friend of mine. He said you called a while ago asking about Jack.”
“Yes, I did. Jack and I were talking several hours ago when that air raid siren went off, and he had to hang up. But he said he’d call me after the danger passed and he was safely back on base. But he never did. And then the other man, the Polish pilot I spoke to when I called, said that one of your planes was shot down, but he didn’t know who it was. And now you’re calling me, instead of Jack…” She began to cry.
Joe didn’t say anything for a moment. “I’m sorry, Renée. Is it okay if I call you that? I know we haven’t met yet, but Jack talks about you all the time. So, it feels like I know you.”
She regained her composure. It was comforting to hear him say that about Jack, that he talked about her so much. And she realized, Joe didn’t sound terribly upset. He and Jack were best friends. If Jack had died, Joe would be filled with grief. “Yes, please. Call me Renée. Can you tell me what’s happened to Jack? Is he all right? Was it his plane that was shot down?”
“Well, that’s several questions in a row. Let me answer them one at a time. I can tell you a little bit about Jack, but I don’t know a lot of details. He’s not all right, not exactly. But he’s not dead. I can tell you that for sure. His plane did get shot down. Don’t know exactly how at this point. But I understand he was able to bail out and parachute to the ground. Landed just a few miles from here in some pasture.”
She was so relieved. “Have you seen him? Have you talked with him?”
“No, I haven’t. And doesn’t look like I’m going to get to do that now.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“Well, I’ll get to that. Let me finish telling you what I know. And I know this to be true, because I heard it from our Group Commander a short while ago. When they found Jack in that field, he was alive but unconscious. He was banged up pretty good. Must have landed hard, and that’s likely what knocked him out. One of his legs was all busted up. I know from experience, when you’re landing with a parachute you need both your legs to be in solid shape. He has some other injuries, but the CO wasn’t sure what they were. But he said they didn’t see that Jack was bleeding anywhere. And this is important, they also didn’t see any burns.”
“Joe, you said a moment ago that you wouldn’t be able to see Jack. Why is that? Where have they taken him?”
“Well, we have a sick bay here at the base but, due to all the damage we got from this bombing, and how serious Jack’s injuries are, they gave him some first aid and put him in an ambulance. I got there as it was driving off. One of the guys said they were taking him to some hospital in London for surgery.”
“Surgery?” she said.
“I think it was just for his busted leg, but I can’t be sure. But the guy I was talking to said Jack was conscious before they put him in the back of the truck.”
As hard as it was to hear all this, she was relieved that God spared her from her worst fears.
“Look,” Joe said, “he’s my best friend in the world. If I could, I’d take the next week off and drive to London to be with him. But these Nazi planes are coming over the Channel every day now, so they won’t give us any time off. But if I hear anything more about how Jack is doing, I’ll be sure to call and let you know.”
“Thank you so much, Joe. I appreciate that.” Then she got an idea. “I just had a thought. You know about his twin brother, Elliot.”
“Yes, Ma’am. He told me all about that.”
“I may not reach Elliot tonight, but I’m sure he’ll want to know about what happened. And when I tell him, I’m nearly positive he’ll be able to find out where they’ve taken Jack. So, if I find out any news, I’ll call you too.”
“That’s a great idea, Renée. And when you do see him, tell him we’re all pulling for him back here, and that I’ll get up there, wherever he is, just as soon as they give me a day off.”
“I will, Joe. Thank you so much for calling me back tonight.”
“You are most welcome.”
She hung up the phone. “Thank you, God.” After another quick look at the clock, she picked up the receiver again and dialed Elliot’s hotel.
The front desk clerk answered. She asked if Elliot was in. He recognized her from previous calls and said, “I’m sorry, Madam, but Major Turner is not here tonight. I can take a message for him, but I’m not sure when he’ll be returning. As you know, he’s in and out quite a lot these days.”
“That’s okay. No message this time. I’ll try his office number tomorrow morning.”
37
The next morning, Renée had called Elliot’s office as soon as it opened. She’d left a message with an adjutant asking for Elliot to call her at the hotel as soon as possible. It was a family emergency. She was pretty sure Elliot wouldn’t have mentioned his relationship with Jack to anyone there. The young man assured her he’d pass the message on right away.
Two hours later, her telephone rang. She picked it up.
“Hello, Renée? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Elliot, but something’s happened to Jack. I tried calling last night as soon as I heard, but you weren’t home.”
“I’m on my way back to London now. Should be there within the hour. What’s happened to Jack? Is he all right?”
“He’s alive, but I found out from his friend Joe that his plane was shot down late yesterday afternoon, just after five.” She explained everything Joe had told her, including that Jack had been transported to a hospital in London for surgery.
“If he wasn’t burned or shot, I wonder why he needed surgery.”
“I don’t know. Is there any way you can find out? And maybe what hospital they brought him to?”
“I definitely can. I may even know where they brought him, but let me make a few phone calls and get back to you. If there’s a chance we can see him today, are you able to go?”
“I hope so. They have me on the schedule as a backup. The girl who’s supposed to work was sick yesterday. I’ll have to call and see. How soon would you be able to pick me up?”
“Probably within the hour, but let’s wait and see if he’s even allowed to have visitors yet. I’ll call you back as soon as I know. Thanks so much for calling me, Renée. So sorry I haven’t been able to spend more time with you lately. Maybe after we see Jack, we can grab a bite to eat on our way home.”
“That would be nice. Call me back soon.”
Just over an hour later, Renée stood on the sidewalk in front of her hotel. She didn’t have to work after all, and Elliot had called from his office on Baker Street. He was on his way to pick her up. He’d said Jack’s hospital was in southeast London, a thirty to forty minute drive away. It dawned on her that the car drive there would be the most time she had spent with Elliot in a month.
She was also aware, now at the prospect of being with both men together, that her feelings for Jack had grown far stronger than her affection for Elliot. But was it just that? The amount of time they had spent together? Would she feel differently had Elliot been able to give her equal time? She wasn’t sure but didn’t think so. They may look the same but in at least a dozen ways they were entirely different. She was almost certain that what she felt for Jack had much more to do with those differences.
But what would it be like when all three of them were together? She looked down the street and saw Elliot’s car come around the corner. She stepped up to the curb as he pulled up and got in when he opened her door from the inside.
“So good to see you,” he said as they drove off. “I hate that I’ve had to leave you alone so much. I wish I could say things will improve very soon, but it doesn’t seem I have any control over that.”
“That’s okay, Elliot. I understand.” She did understand but what was also true was that she didn’t feel very alone anymore. “When you called a few minutes ago you said you’d learned some more details about Jack’s injuries.”
“Yes, I did.” He turned left at the end of the street. “The surgery was for a badly broken leg. Broken in two places, they said. That’s why they brought him to the Royal Herbert Hospital over in Woolwich. They have the best orthopedic surgeons there in London. He also has a nasty cut on his left hand that required numerous stitches. He’s cracked some ribs and has a concussion. But the doctor I spoke with said he expects Jack to make a full recovery. It’ll just take a while.”
As he said that last part, his expression changed. “You sound relieved,” Renée said.
“I am. Right after Jack and I first met, I called his CO to find out more about him, how he was doing. He said Jack was one of the finest pilots on base. Very skilled and nearly fearless. That made me a little nervous. We’re losing so many skilled and fearless pilots these days. When I first got your call, I was sure we’d lost him. But injuries like this, they’ll keep him on the ground for a good long while. Maybe long enough for this air battle to end.”
Renée hadn’t thought about that. But if true, she wouldn’t have to worry about losing Jack in one of his dogfights anymore. “That makes me feel a little hopeful. Haven’t had much of that lately.” He turned another corner. They were now on Piccadilly and drove past the Ritz. Then he turned again, right on St. James Street. “I recognize this.”
“We’re actually going to be driving right past the little pub we’ve eaten at before. The one on Pall Mall.”
“The Cross and Sword,” she said. The one where she’d first met Jack.
“Then we’ll be driving past Trafalgar Square. Have you been there yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then we’ll be taking a long drive along the Thames. You’ll be seeing all kinds of new London sites you’ve never seen before. Of course, none of it will look as nice as it usually does, what with all these sandbags everywhere and the Home Guard practicing their drills on every spare patch of grass.”
“I’m getting used to that.”
They drove along for the next thirty-five minutes without too much conversation. Occasionally, Elliot would point out some point of interest or other and share some story about it. But that was pretty much it.
That was one of the very different things about Jack. Their conversations. They never had any long, blank sections where no words were exchanged. Jack would use such moments to ask her questions about her job at the store, her family life, what is what like where she lived in France, or childhood memories. He never minded her asking him about similar themes in his life. And he had a strong sense of humor. Laughter was always a part of any conversation with him that was more than a few minutes long.
She looked over at Elliot, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the road. Was he so reserved because of his personality or his upbringing? Was it just because he was British and part of the aristocratic class? How different would he have been had he and Jack grown up together in America? Or for that matter, how much different would Jack be from the man he had become had he been raised here, in Elliot’s circumstances?
Still half asleep, Jack tried to roll on his side but something prevented him. A stab of pain for one thing, but something else besides. He opened his eyes. The room was very bright, the light coming in from the window suggesting it was late morning, if not midday. He could turn his head without pain but it made him dizzy.
There was something on his head. He reached to feel what it was and saw his left hand wrapped in bandages. A spot of blood about the size of a quarter stained his palm. He looked down and saw his right leg in a cast that started at his thigh. It was suspended slightly in traction. Something was leaning up against both of his sides, to keep him from rolling over. Using his unbandaged hand, he reached for one of them. A rolled up towel.
Then he became aware of other noises. Men groaning. Someone reading a book aloud. A chair scraping across a wooden floor. Sounds out in the hall. Then he remembered, the air raid. Going after that second German bomber. Watching it start to burn and spiral downward. Then the tracers, the loud bangs. He’d been hit. The engine smoking. The controls, no longer responding. Throwing back the canopy, then bailing out. The ME 109 flying past him, the victory roll.
He remembered. He’d hurt his leg getting out of the plane and cut his hand somehow. That’s right. The ground coming up quick below him. Hitting hard. Then nothing until now. Where was he? Some kind of hospital, obviously. But not at Middle Wallop. On one side of him was a wall. The man on the other side of him was asleep. Who could he ask?
He suddenly felt very tired. Maybe he would just close his eyes and rest a few minutes. A doctor or a nurse had to come by at some point, right? He could ask then.
Moments later, he was asleep.
38
“He’s asleep. Maybe we should come back later.”
“I think we should wake him. The doctor said we should be able to see him at least for a short visit.”
Jack’s eyes were still closed. He heard a woman then a man’s voice. He slowly opened his eyes and was surprised to see Renée and Elliot standing beside his bed. “I’m awake.” Immediately, he was aware of the pain again.
“You gave us quite a scare, brother,” Elliot said.
Jack looked at Renée. Tears were in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just remembered. I never called you back last night.”
Renée smiled, wiped her eyes. �
�No, you didn’t.”
Elliot looked confused.
“Jack and I were actually on the phone yesterday when our call got interrupted by the air raid siren. I knew he had to leave to fly and fight the bombers. I asked him to call me when he got safely back on the ground, so I wouldn’t worry.”
“Ah,” Elliot said, “and he was shot down, so he never called you back.” He looked at Jack. “The doctor filled us in on your injuries.”
“Well then, maybe the two of you can fill me in. I know at least something about my hand and my leg. I remember hurting them while I was bailing out. But I guess I hurt my head somehow, and it hurts like mad when I try to roll over.”
Elliot spoke. “Your leg is broken in two places. They had to stitch up a pretty good gash on your hand, you cracked several ribs, and you have a concussion.”
“But you’re alive,” Renée said. “That’s what matters. And the doctor said all these things will get better in time. But the best part, at least for us, is that you won’t be able to fly for a while.”
“I won’t?” What was he saying? Of course he couldn’t fly. “Do you know for how long?”
“At least for a couple months,” Elliot said.
“A couple months… the war could be over by then.”
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Renée said.
“I guess.” Then he remembered something. “Joe? Is he all right? How about the airfield? Did it suffer much damage?”
“Joe is fine,” Renée said. “He was the one who told me about what happened to you. He said to tell you he was sorry he couldn’t come, but all passes are still canceled.”
“I called about Middle Wallop,” Elliot said. “Only one or two German bombers actually dropped bombs on the base, but they were very effective. Sadly, three mechanics were killed trying to close one of the hangar doors when it suffered a direct hit. The hangar and all the planes inside were destroyed. Some other people were wounded. Another hangar suffered damage, and I think one of the office buildings. But the airfield’s already up and running again.”