The Spitfire Girls
Page 36
She went on with her letter. ‘We will get along nicely without Pa’s consent – I see that now. Because, with a fair wind behind us, love will carry us through the rest of this war and afterwards in peace time – you on dry land, me in the air still following my dream.
‘Jean and Mary told me recently that I’m a slow learner in matters of the heart. “Hah!” I said. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. Ha-ha-ha!” But they’re dear girls and you will like them when you meet them properly. Bobbie has agreed to be my chief bridesmaid when we marry. So you see: we Spitfire girls stick together.
‘Too much chatter from me, my darling, but everything I write comes from the heart. I love you, my dear, and want to send this letter off without delay. Until I have time to write more – Your loving Angie.’
Bobbie sat at the controls of the Spit, waiting for take-off. It was a specially adapted reconnaissance model, complete with cameras bolted to each wing. Visibility was 1,500 yards, with 1,000 feet of cloud clearance – perfect conditions for her flight to Brize Norton, where the ageing Spit would henceforth be put to use in the RAF training programme for air gunners and pilots.
‘She’s seen plenty of action,’ Stan had informed her as he’d finished his inspection of the oil filter and propeller spinner. He’d pointed to the victory tally stencilled on the aircraft’s flank – six small white swastikas – and given her the thumbs-up. ‘Up the revs,’ he’d instructed before joining Gordon at the back end. Then two ground crewmen had thrown their weight on the tail fins to act as human ballast while Bobbie had checked the prop speed then returned the thumbs-up.
‘Chocks away!’ Gordon yelled as he and Stan pulled them clear.
Bobbie’s hand hovered over the stick. The engine sang sweet and smooth as it reached full throttle and she released the brake and rolled forward. She swiftly built up speed. Objects on the ground rushed by in a blur – control tower and office block to one side, Nissen huts and Burton Wood to the other. A touch on the stick was all she needed to rise from the ground.
Oh, the power of it and the glory! Bobbie glanced down at Rixley village and the grey roof of Burton Grange. She gained height, snug in her narrow seat, safely strapped in as she banked to starboard and prepared to head south. The Spit tilted, its wings glinting in the sunlight. Beautiful, thrilling – Brize Norton, here I come!
Bobbie hadn’t mentioned it to anyone but today’s flight was special. It would bring her up to five hundred hours and the rank of first officer, alongside Angela and not far behind Jean – a milestone if ever there was one.
But for now she sat back and soared, lost in the glorious moment, hurtling through the clear air, mistress of all she surveyed.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
As with many readers of this fictionalized account of the wonderful Spitfire girls, my direct family links with those who served during the Second World War are now sadly broken. But I’m sure that memories of our parents’ and grandparents’ wartime experiences retain a strong hold over all our imaginations.
Though I can no longer listen to my father Jim Lyne’s sadly infrequent anecdotes about serving as a chief petty officer with the Royal Navy – the free cigarettes and rum rations, the camaraderie, the occasional shore leave spent with his musician uncle in Glasgow – in my head I do still hear his voice recounting the terrifying moments after his ship, HMS Tanimbar, was torpedoed off Malta in June 1942. Happily, I also have his crystal-clear written account of this event, penned some sixty years afterwards:
The Tanimbar, with its cargo of aviation fuel, blew up. Protected by a steel wall formed by the captain’s bridge, I was one of very few survivors of the blast. The vessel sank fast … Along with two other lads (one of whom couldn’t swim), I floated around amongst the flotsam and eventually finished up sitting astride an upturned lifeboat … All watches stopped at twelve noon when we hit the water.
When I first heard this story as a child, it had a huge impact. I saw and heard in my mind’s eye the sea aflame, the non-swimmer crying out for help, the encounter with a Dutch survivor on the upturned boat asking Dad for, of all things, a light for his cigar. Then there was the secret escape from Malta that conjured up yet more dramatic images – the cramped, nine-day journey to Gibraltar by river-class submarine which crawled along the seabed and only surfaced at night for fear of further U-boat attacks.
Dad was twenty-one years old at the time; a similar age to many of the young women who feature in this story of the female pilots who delivered fighter planes and bombers to the RAF.
As for the ATA pilots themselves, after the war many had no option but to leave behind the perils and thrills of flying the iconic Spitfire and settle for marriage and quiet domesticity. These remarkable women can no longer tell their own stories but their names deserve to live on – Margot Duhalde from Chile, Maureen Dunlop from Buenos Aires, Jackie Sorour from Cape Town, Jackie Cochran from California, and the home-grown Joan Hughes, Freydis Leaf, Mary de Bunsen, Anne Blackwell, Diana Barnato Walker, Mary Ellis … the list goes on.
How, I wonder, did these fiercely independent, courageous and often eccentric women survivors deal with post-war rationing on butter, sugar and eggs, or with the everyday chores (and delights) connected with child rearing? For what could possibly compare with that moment when our fearless Atta girl climbed into that cockpit and ran those checks on hydraulics, trimmers … flaps, gills, gauges; the indescribable adrenaline rush of taking to the sky in a Spit, alone and free?
Jim Lyne in his Royal Navy uniform.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Francesca Best, my editor at Transworld, has steered this project with the steadiest of hands. Thank you, Francesca, for your unflagging enthusiasm and belief.
At the very start of this journey Kim Read at the Yorkshire Air Museum in Elvington near York helped set me on the right road; Kim, I sincerely hope that you don’t spot too many factual errors here.
Finally, it turns out that many of my friends share my admiration for these amazingly bold and brave ATA women, so special thanks are due to Paul and Carol Withey for chewing the fat with me and providing invaluable pointers in the right direction.
And as ever, thank you Caroline Sheldon for reasons too many to mention.
If you loved The Spitfire Girls don’t miss …
The Land Girls at Christmas
‘Calling All Women!’
It’s 1941 and as the Second World War rages on, girls from all over the country are signing up to the Women’s Land Army. Renowned for their camaraderie and spirit, it is these brave women who step in to take on the gruelling farm work from the men conscripted into the armed forces.
When Yorkshire mill girl Una joins the cause, she wonders how she’ll adapt to country life. Luckily she’s quickly befriended by more experienced Land Girls Brenda and Grace. But as Christmas draws ever near, the girls’ resolve is tested as scandals and secrets are revealed, lovers risk being torn apart, and even patriotic loyalties are called into question …
With only a week to go until the festivities, can the strain of wartime still allow for the magic of Christmas?
Available now …
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
61–63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA
penguin.co.uk
Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Corgi Books an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Jenny Holmes 2019
Cover images: Spitfire Girls © Colin Thomas
Background Image © Arcangel and Shutterstock
Jenny Holmes has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissi
ons with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9781473560420
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.