by Griff Hosker
I did not feel lucky.
He followed the stretcher and I examined the bugle. A spent shell dropped out of it. It would never be played again but it had done a job I never imagined it performing. I took it with me. We would put it in the Sergeants’ Mess as a reminder. Lumpy’s war was over but I could not even begin to conceive of his one armed future. He might become one of the crippled beggars from the Boer War who lived on Liverpool’s streets.
I saw both Freddie and Johnny. They, too, were distraught. The two corpses covered in blankets told their own stories. Their gunners had not had the luck that Lumpy had. Jack Laithwaite had been Lumpy’s best friend and was almost his equal as a gunner. He too would never fly again. I knew that he had a wife and three children back in Blighty. Another family would have to learn to live without a breadwinner.
Charlie caught us up. “I am sorry, sir. I tried to get to you when Pete Harrington bought it but didn’t make it in time. Sorry.”
I shook my head, “It was an accident waiting to happen.” I suddenly realised what it meant. I had lost one of my flight. I turned to look at the field.
Freddie said, “Piers Gerard bought it too.”
“And I lost poor Lieutenant Kay. He had two missions and both ended badly. Connor and Morley didn’t make it either.”
We had lost five aeroplanes in one day. Archie had been right; the general’s offensive strategy had cost us a quarter of our pilots and even more gunners.
When we reached the office Archie already had the whisky bottle out. “Well we can tell the general that the mission was a great success. We destroyed ten barges! Of course I have fifteen letters to write to the families of the dead and the wounded but we sank the bloody barges!”
Randolph coughed, “Well Bill, while the major composes himself what kind of fighters were they?”
“It was a mixture of Fokker D.III and D.II. They can out fly, out run, out climb and out gun us. Those twin machine guns make mincemeat out of us. The front of my bus had so many holes it looked like the mice had been at it.” I held up the mangled bugle. “Lumpy is lucky. He has lost his hand but he could have been like Jack Laithwaite and lost his life. The steel jacketed shells just cut through everything. With only one machine gun firing at us we had some sort of chance but two means that they can’t miss. They aim their aeroplane at us and fire. I hit both the Fokkers that hit me but all I struck was the engine. One was damaged but the second was still flying.”
“No it wasn’t Bill. I hit him. You can have half a kill!” Charlie was smiling.
“I don’t want half a bloody kill! I want my gunner whole again! Can you fix that Charlie?”
He looked as though I had slapped him, “Sorry Bill I …”
Gordy put his arm around me, “Steady on Bill. It isn’t Charlie’s fault. Go and have a bath and a drink. I’m sure Bates is waiting.” I turned and glared at him. I just wanted a fight with someone. There were no Germans around and my friends were bearing the brunt. Gordy smiled, “I remember when I was going off the rails and you set me straight. Let an old mate do the same for you eh?”
I knew he was right. “Sorry Charlie, sorry chaps. You are right Gordy. I’ll call back later with my report, Randolph.”
“No hurry Bill. I am not certain we can manage to fly tomorrow anyway.”
As I walked through the base I saw the sick bay. There was little point in trying to visit Lumpy. Doc would still be working on him as well as the other wounded. I realised that I still had the bugle in my hand. Bates was, as Gordy had said, waiting for me outside my room. There was a large whisky in his hand. He took the bugle from me and handed me the whisky. He reverently laid the mangled instrument on my bedside table.
“Here you are, sir. Have this one and then take your bath. It is lovely and hot.” I swallowed the neat whisky in one. “That’s the ticket, sir.” He put the glass down and then took off my tunic. “The Mess Sergeant told me he has had a consignment of fresh meat today. I think you are in for a fine dinner. It looks like roast beef. Of course I don’t think his Yorkshire Puddings will be a patch on your mother’s. They were the best I had ever eaten. I watched her make them but I don’t think I could copy her. You are born with that kind of skill aren’t you sir?”
I was aware that his senseless chatter was to make life normal for me. I saw the pain in his eyes. He understood what I was going through. I would be able to talk about it but not yet. “Thank you, John. You are a good fellow.”
He smiled and seemed relieved, “Just doing my duty, Captain Harsker. Now off you go before the water gets cold.” He held my tunic and my greatcoat. I saw that they both had blood and pieces of flesh on them. I had noticed neither in the battle nor since. “I’ll get these cleaned up. It is a good job we bought that new tunic eh sir?”
Both Gordy and Bates were right. I did feel better when I had bathed and dressed. Lumpy had been lucky. He could be dead but he was alive. At least I hoped he was alive. As soon as I was dressed I ran to the sick bay. The Sick Bay Sergeant stopped me from entering the ward.
“Now then, Captain Harsker, where do you think you are going? Flight Sergeant Hutton has just come out of surgery and he will be out for the count until morning. Doctor Brennan did a fine job and he saved the arm below the elbow.” I looked at him blankly. He smiled sympathetically, “They can fit him with a false hand sir. So you see you can do nowt here, sir.”
I had not even thought that far ahead. “Thank you Sergeant. When he wakes tell him I was asking after him.”
“Of course sir. You can visit in the morning. Now go and get some food inside you. You and the rest of the flight crews have been through a lot today.” He shook his head, “Even the Doctor was shaken.”
As I left I knew what the sergeant meant. The sick bay only had a few wounded but there were twelve dead men. That was the shock for us all.
There was no jollity in the mess that night and poor Freddie and Johnny looked to be at rock bottom. They had both been with their gunners almost as long as I had been with Lumpy and so I knew how they felt. I rose to speak with them but Gordy restrained me. “They won’t thank you for it. Let them sleep on it. Tomorrow is time enough.”
Archie was on the other side of me, “And I know you don’t want to hear this either, Bill but you will need to face it. Tomorrow you and the two lads will need to check out those new Pups when they arrive. We might not want to fly but sure as shooting the Germans will. If we aren’t in the air in the next couple of days then they will be over here.” I looked at him in horror. He shook his head, “Remember what the General said about March? It is just a week away.”
I swallowed the wine and held up my hand for the mess orderly. Archie’s words sank in. “You want Freddie and Johnny in the new Pups?”
“After you went for your bath we had a chat, the three of us. We will reorganise the flights. We will distribute your old flight amongst the others and B Flight will be the Pups. Freddie and Johnny are good pilots and they have a good relationship with you. Gordy is right. Tomorrow is another day. Let’s start fresh eh? You fly the Bristol tomorrow while the Pups are checked out.”
Chapter 9
Bates brought me an early morning cup of tea accompanied by a concerned expression. “How are we today, sir?”
“Better thank you, John. And thank you for last night. You made it easier for me.”
He seemed pleased, “That is my job, sir but I am delighted that you are feeling better.”
As I stepped on to the cold floor I said, “I am not certain that ‘better’ is the word I would have chosen but it is another day and I am still alive.”
“That’s the spirit sir. Nils Desperandum.”
I suddenly felt as though someone had walked over my grave. That was what Lumpy had said when we were fleeing the Germans across Northern France.
As soon as I was dressed I went to the sick bay. It was still dark and the night staff was on duty. The sergeant grinned, “The doctor said you would be up before the larks, sir
. You can go in but just to say hello, mind!”
“Thank you, sergeant.”
The three patients were all asleep. Lumpy’s hand was hidden beneath a mountain of white bandages. My broken arm of a few months ago now seemed insignificant. He looked to be breathing well enough and I turned to go.
“Hello sir. You are up early.”
I turned and saw his smiling face. It was a little paler than normal but the smile was there. “I just wanted to see how you were.”
He nodded to his left arm. “A bit if a mess sir but the doctor said I was lucky. The bugle saved my life.”
“And my legs.” I sighed; there was no easy way to say what I was about to say. “Your war is over Lumpy, you know that.”
“Aye sir. But I am alive and that is more than can be said for poor Jack Laithwaite. He has a wife and three bairns. I am lucky. I have just meself and me mam and dad.”
“What will you do?”
“Go back to Shildon. The Doc reckons I can have a dummy hand but it will take some time. I can’t go back to the pits. A one armed collier is neither use nor ornament is he?”
“There must be jobs in the offices you could do. You can still write.”
He brightened a little. “Aye I suppose you are right.”
“And I will be more than happy to write you a reference.”
“Really sir? That would be just the job.”
The sergeant came in. “That’s it sir. We need to see to these lads. Afternoon for visiting.”
He stood with his arm out as though he was a shepherd herding sheep. He reminded me of Beattie’s Matron. “I’ll see you this afternoon then.”
“Aye sir and I’ll write a letter to Jack’s widow. I know as what he might have said to her.”
As I went to breakfast I realised that the likes of Lumpy Hutton were the backbone of Britain. The sad thing was it was the Lumpy Huttons and Jack Laithwaites who were dying. There was a generation who would either be crippled or dead.
It had done me good to talk with Lumpy. His positive attitude had rubbed off and I determined to be like him and make the best of things.
Holt and Carrick were in the mess, their uneaten breakfast before them. The cigarette butts showed that they had been there for some time. I sat opposite them. The orderly followed with a cup of tea and my breakfast. “Thank you Sarn’t. Take these plates away and bring them some fresh food will you?”
“Yes sir.”
“I don’t think I could eat anything sir.”
“Nonsense. Bring them two plates and they will eat it.” I glared at them. “And that is an order.”
“But sir, you don’t understand, we both lost a gunner yesterday.”
“And you are going to spend the rest of the war moaning about it and feeling sorry for yourself. In 1914 I lost a regiment and they were my best friends. Lumpy Hutton has lost a hand and he will have to work out how to live so you two are lucky. Yes I am sad that your gunners died but we start again. And we start today.”
The food was brought and I stared at them until they began to eat. When we had all finished I lit my pipe. Johnny said, somewhat sulkily, “I am not certain that I could face losing another gunner.”
“Good, because you won’t have to.” They both stared at me. “We have a busy day. We have to find out what makes the Sopwith Pup tick. When the weather clears, probably tomorrow, B Flight, that is us three, will be in the air. We are going to be the guardian angels for the rest of the squadron. We will be the eagles soaring high in the sky.” I saw the first hint of a smile. “So you can see why you needed to eat. Now come on. Get your overalls on and we will find Sergeant Lowery and Sergeant Richardson. I think we have much to learn and only one day to do it.”
The three Pups had been kept away from the runway while they were checked over. They had an engine with which the mechanics were unfamiliar and the Vickers was not like the Lewis. In addition it was a synchronised gun. They were waiting for the three of us. I saw the anticipation on their faces.
I shook my head, “Bloody hell Flight. They are a bit small aren’t they?”
The two senior flight sergeants laughed. “Just a little sir. Would you like the tour?”
They took us around pointing out the differences. I could not get over the discrepancy in size. The wing span was twenty six and a half feet as opposed to almost forty eight feet for the Gunbus. It was thirteen feet shorter and four feet lower. My first thought was that it was a smaller target for the Germans!
Percy Richardson took us to the gun. “This is a big difference, sir. There is no magazine. It is belt fed. If you run out in the air then you can’t reload.” He smiled and looked at the two young lieutenants, “You two gentlemen will need to be as accurate as Captain Harsker here.” I saw their faces fall. “The good news is that the ammunition comes in two hundred and fifty round boxes so that is more than twice the magazine of the Lewis.”
I was happy about that but I worried about jamming. “How do we clear a jam?”
I liked Percy but he had a tendency to show off a little when it came to guns. “Sir, in August, last year the 100th Company of Machine Guns fired their ten guns for twelve hours continuously in a battle. They fired a million rounds and changed ten barrels for each gun but not one gun jammed in all that time. We will service them every time you land. I can guarantee, sir, that they will not jam!”
I smiled and patted him on the back. “And if you are wrong Senior Flight Sergeant, it is my ghost who will remind you of that promise.”
He had the good grace to nod. “Mind you, sir, the other good news is that the effective range of this gun is over two thousand yards; the Lewis gun is eight hundred yards. The Lewis fires more bullets per minute, but not by much.”
I looked at the two young pilots. The thought of that kind of fire power was awesome. I hoped that Flight Sergeant Lowery would give us as good news about the engine.
“Now your engine isn’t a Rolls Royce but the Le Rhone is a nice little engine. It has plenty of power and you can reach speeds of up to a hundred and five miles an hour. You have a ceiling of seventeen and a half thousand feet.”
“That is almost twice as high as the Gunbus!”
Flight Sergeant Lowery frowned at Freddie’s interruption. “You have the same endurance but a much faster rate of climb. The length of the body means you have a tiny turning circle. I haven’t seen these new Hun aeroplanes but Captain Marshall says that the Pup here is six feet shorter. I reckon that gives you the edge. Finally the three wheels of the Gunbus aren’t necessary; you just have two but that means that you don’t take off flat like the Gunbus. Until you get up to speed you are looking up. I think that will take some getting used to.”
I saw what he meant. The Pup looked to have its nose in the air. “Right lads let’s get to grips with these three. Remember, tomorrow we fly.”
With one brief stop for a sandwich we worked through the morning. We sat in the new aeroplanes and had the engine started. It was strange to go back to a bus which had an engine in front. I wondered about the vision but then the Germans had the same problem and they had managed to shoot us down. We took them to the field to practice take off. The rest of the squadron gathered to see these new war machines. It was two o’clock when we were all satisfied. I saw a break in the weather and took an instant decision. “Right lads, we’ll take them up and practice flying in formation. Get your gear.”
I think Senior Flight Sergeant Lowery was worried we might damage his new toys but he was a good soldier and knew when to say, “Yes sir.”
Archie wandered over when he saw us getting suited and booted. “Are you sure about this, Bill?”
“If we are ordered into the air tomorrow I don’t want to have to learn about this Pup with Germans trying to kill me. We will just do a couple of laps of the field and test fire the guns.”
“Very well.”
When Freddie and Johnny returned I said, “I want to try a different formation for this new bus. I will fly in th
e centre. You two fly either side of me level with my wing. That way you can both see my signals. We’ll take them up to cloud level.” I could not wait for a clear day to see just how high they would go. “We’ll try a take off in line. I think they are small enough.”
The Gunbus had such a span that you could only have two aeroplanes take off at the same time.
“Righto sir.”
When we level off I will test fire my gun. Then you two can as well.” They nodded. “No point putting it off any more.”
I climbed aboard. I had never flown alone before. There had always been a gunner. It would seem lonely. The first thing I noticed was the power. It was such a light aeroplane that we were in the air almost before I realised. This was no Gunbus. We climbed and our rate of ascent seemed to be twice that of the Gunbus. I levelled off before the clouds and took us in a lazy circle around the airfield. I practised waggling my wings to see the effect. I found the stick very responsive. I watched Johnny as he used too much stick and rose alarmingly quickly. He rejoined the formation and shrugged apologetically.
There was no putting it off, I had to test fire the Vickers. I gripped the trigger and pulled. It sounded slower, to me, although that might have been my imagination. The spent shells flew to my left. As I watched the tracer bullets tear off into the distance I noticed that they flew straight. I stored that information in my head. The Lewis’ shorter range meant that, at extreme range they dipped and slowed down. I saw that the other two had test fired. I motioned a roll. They gave me thumbs up and I pulled back on the stick. It was, as the Flight Sergeant had said, a very tight turn. I was convinced that we could get inside an Albatros. For the first time in days I felt a little more confident and I signalled for them to descend. We went down quicker than we had climbed. Our problem would be flying at the same speed as the Gunbus!
The other pilots crowded around us when we landed. The envy was written all over their faces; even Gordy and Ted. Charlie’s eyes were alight. “The climb was phenomenal and your loop is tiny! When do we all get one?”