by Julian Noyce
“Pay to see him,” Bill insisted.
“What’s the point. He’s got more than me.”
“See him anyway.”
Jimmy put the coins in.
“I’ll call.”
He turned his cards over.
“I’ve got Kings and nines.”
Don smirked as he threw his cards in. Everyone looked at them.
“Sixes and fours,” Don said.
“Told you,” Bill said as Jimmy punched the air and raked the pot in.
“I don’t think you should be allowed to interfere,” Don said to Bill.
“He’s not been playing for long. You tried to bluff him and besides he is my brother.”
“Very well but I did say let’s keep it friendly.”
“Then don’t try to bluff.”
Don pushed the pack of cards over to Jimmy.
“Winner deals.”
Jimmy picked them up and gave them a quick shuffle.
Jack Meadows was the first one to go bust. He refused the offers of a loan and left to make more petrol flavoured tea. They had been playing for an hour. Jimmy had had some success and felt he was getting much better at poker. He was certainly taking more risks, adopting a strategy of always going if he could beat what was on the table, calling Don’s bluff on a few occasions and winning. Now Jimmy had dealt again. Face up he had a King, a nine, a seven and a four. He picked up his three other cards. An Ace and two more fours. He tried not to let the excitement show and nervously glanced at the others in case his reaction had given him away.
No?
Good!
They were all concentrating on the cards. He looked at the pot. It contained a pile of coins of various denominations, some of them German and Arabic as well as English. There was a handful of cigarettes, a lighter, an old watch. For these young men that was a lot to play for. Jimmy slid a few more coins into the middle.
“I’m open.”
His brother Bill looked at his cards and folded. Don checked his cards. He had nothing. He had bluffed too many times today and lost, so he folded. Tommy Burke had a straight, three, four, five, six, seven. He gently put his cards down and looked at his stakes. Like the others he had some coins but not much else of value. He watched Jimmy, trying to read him. But jimmy was giving nothing away. Finally he looked at his cards again and pushing more coins in he said.
“I’ll raise.”
Jimmy studied Tommy’s cards. He had nothing obvious showing. No pairs. Just two hearts, a diamond and a spade. The hearts were the three and five. Jimmy decided to chance it. He called and raised. Tommy was surprised at the raise but had seen Jimmy call bluffs all day.
“I’m in,” he said pushing the majority of his coins across.
“Me too,” Jimmy quickly pushed the last of his stake money in. Now he had nothing left in front of him. It was all in the middle. All on this one hand.
“Are you not seeing me?”
“No,” Jimmy shook his head.
Bill looked at his brother.
“You’re not calling him?”
“No.”
“But you have nothing left.”
“It’s all right I know what I’m doing,” Jimmy was convinced that his confidence would scare Tommy into giving him the pot. Tommy didn’t have enough left to call either.
“I don’t have enough to call,” he said looking around the faces at the table.
“Then the pot’s mine.”
Jimmy stretched forward to scoop the winnings.
“Not so fast!” Tommy grabbed him by the wrists. Jimmy moved back. Tommy reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his old battered leather wallet. He fished around inside it and pulled out a photograph of his sweetheart Mary and placed it in the middle with the last of his money. There were a few whistles from the men around the table. They had seen the photograph before. Tommy’s love, Mary, was the most beautiful girl any of them had ever seen. She was in the R.A.F. stationed as a radio operator at Biggin hill. In the photo she was saluting sexily while blowing a kiss at the camera. She was in her R.A.F. uniform but her hair was loose, long dark curls hanging down her shoulders. All of them were jealous of Tommy for having such a beauty. Jimmy took his eyes off the photograph long enough to speak to Bill.
“Lend me the money Bill please.”
Bill tore his eyes away from the beauty.
“You’ve lost. May as well accept it.”
“Please lend me the money.”
“You won’t win.”
Jimmy showed him the blind cards.
Bill nodded.
“It’s not enough.”
“I think he’s bluffing again.”
Bill shook his head.
“I don’t think he is.”
“He must be. He would never risk that photograph unless he was sure that he would win.”
Jimmy was staring at the beautiful face in the picture.
“Lend me the money please brother. I must have her.”
Bill sighed.
“Very well but I did warn you.”
He found the money, put it in the middle and then sat back resigned.
“Okay,” Tommy said “You show your cards first.”
Jimmy took his eyes off the photograph.
“Three fours,” he said spacing them out.
He glanced nervously at the photograph again and then stared at Tommy Burke.
Tommy winked at him and moved the three and five of hearts apart. You could cut the air with a knife, the tension was so high. Everyone watched Tommy as he picked his cards up and very slowly, almost painstakingly turned them over and laid them down face up.
‘4,6,7’
A straight!
The table erupted into gasps. Jimmy sank back in his chair, his eyes closed. Tommy reached out and scooped the pot.
“I think I win,” he said. He picked up the photograph of Mary and kissed it, “Welcome back darling,” he said teasing the others.
Jimmy opened his eyes, shaking his head.
“I don’t believe it,” he said. He’d wanted to win that picture so much.
“Well I did try telling you,” Bill said ”You need to listen to me a bit more little brother.”
“I thought he was bluffing.”
“He’d never let that photo go ever.”
The first of the aeroplanes engines started up, gaining their attention.
“All right lads playtime is over,” Captain Witherington with Wigmore joined them at the table, “To me gentlemen please as quickly as you can.”
He waited for the thirty or so pilots to group around him.
“We’ve received reports of an aerial convoy off the coast….” he spread out a map…”Here,” he pointed.
“How far away are they sir,” someone asked.
“Approximately fifty miles.”
“What are we up against.”
“They’re bombers. Presumably looking for targets of ours. I must warn you though gentlemen. They will probably have an escort of fighters. These will be your objectives….”
The pilots listened with excitement. The card game forgotten already. Captain Witherington briefed them, there was a buzz of excitement. The chance of some real action at last.
“Good luck gentlemen.”
Witherington saluted “Dismissed.”
The pilots of 225 squadron quickly made their way to their machines. Tommy Burke charged after the brothers calling out. Bill heard him first. The brothers stopped for him to catch up.
“Just wanted to make sure you were all right about that last hand.”
Jimmy offered his right hand which Tommy instantly shook.
“Of course, you won it fairly.
“Yes I did. It was a little bit dirty of me putting that photograph in. I know how the men look at her.”
“She’s a very beautiful woman,” Bill replied “You’re very lucky.”
“I know. I worry about her sometimes . While we’re over here I wonder if she’s safe. If t
hose bastards are bombing where she works….”
“I’m sure she’s equally worried about you out here every day.”
The last of the Spitfires were started up.
“We’ll see you when we get back.”
“Keep that picture safe,” Jimmy said “Because when we get back I’m winning it from you.”
Tommy laughed and thumped him on the shoulder.
“No chance.”
Jimmy hugged his brother at his aeroplane.
“See you when we get back,” he said turning to climb the short ladder to the cockpit. He paused at the top to quickly wave at Bill and then crammed his flying hat onto his head and sat in the plane. He reached forward and flicked various switches and checked all the guages while doing up the harness. A member of groundcrew climbed the ladder and checked the harness for tightness and satisfied he gave Jimmy the thumbs up and descended the ladder. He went around to the front and gave the pilot the signal to start the engine. Jimmy flicked the ignition on and the crewman reached up and pulled the propeller down with all his might, stepping out of the way as he did so. The Rolls Royce Merlin engine roared into life. Jimmy held the plane on its footbrakes and the crewman whipped the triangular wooden chocks out from under its wheels. Jimmy eased the throttle back and the plane began to roll. The oil guage needle was flickering about and he tapped it with his fingers and it settled. Satisfied that everything was all right he began taxi-ing the small aircraft across the desert floor towards the smooth runway. He checked the windsock. It was barely moving, no breeze, almost perfect conditions for flying. The thirty aeroplanes all began taking off, some just seconds apart. Jimmy suddenly found himself alongside Don and Don waved as they took off together. Captain Witherington watched as each of the planes under his command took off. He watched as they disappeared slowly from his sight until all he could hear were the droning engines. Then they too disappeared and he looked around his silent airfield. A light breeze stirred up some dust and blew it across the runway, the windsock still barely moving. A large piece of dry tumbleweed blew across the sand in front of him. All there was left to do now was to wait. He looked across at two Spitfires parked up, waiting for parts and a service. His days of flying long over now. Witherington sat at the card table. The cards were still there and he picked them up and shuffled them. Then in no hurry he dealt himself a game of patience.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
The German Junkers were flying in formation over the desert. The pilots preferred to fly at night under cover of darkness but problems with supply shipments meant that they had to take off as soon as they could. Based on the Italian island of Sicily they would run down the Mediterranean to Gabes in Tunisia, make a drop and then continue down the coast before returning to Sicily. The Junkers carried a crew of five.
Bill Smith’s Spitfire V was at the head of the squadron and he was the first of the British pilots to spot the German convoy ahead. He clipped his mask over his face and flicked the radio switch.
“All right boys this is it. Our target is two thousand yards. We won’t expect any return fire if we take them by surprise but watch out for fighters. They won’t be far away. Now report in and good luck.”
One by one the planes called out their positions. Bill could hear the excitement in Jimmy’s voice. Tommy kissed the photograph of Mary and placed it over his instrument panel. He did this every time he flew. He felt that this was what kept him alive, to know that she was watching over him.
Bill Smith now banked his Spitfire to begin climbing to gain height for their attack. He checked his rear view mirror to make sure the others were following. They would fly around and come at their enemy broadside giving them a larger target to do more damage.
In the lead Junkers pilot Lerndorfer Kubermann looked nervously out to his right.
“What is it?” his co-pilot Gert Hunse asked him.
Kubermann continued to study the sky.
“Lerndorfer?” Hunse called.
Kubermann watched for a further few moments and seeing nothing he turned back.
“It’s nothing. I thought I saw fighter planes for a moment but I didn’t see them again.”
Hunse leaned forward to look past his crew mate. He couldn’t see anything either.
“We’re getting a new batch of ME109’s. Maybe you saw some of them,” Hunse said.
“Hopefully you are right,” Kubermann replied checking the surrounding sky again.
Bill Smith pushed forward on the joystick and his Spitfire V went into a perfect dive. He watched his airspeed indicator as it passed three hundred miles per hour. Three times the speed of the German Junkers. He levelled out at three hundred and twenty five feet and closed for the kill.
Kubermann heard him coming. He looked out of his side window to see the flashes from the Spitfire’s machine guns. Moments later they struck his plane. The bullets ripped through the wooden and canvas sides ricocheting horribly as they struck steel girders. The attacking Spitfire banked and screamed past the Junkers, turning directly in front of it.
Kubermann was frantically shouting into his radio, calling for assistance. His eyes widened when he heard the response. The nearest German fighters were twenty five miles away!
The other Spitfires tore in now, bullets eating into German aircraft.
“We’re sitting ducks up here!” Kubermann screamed into his headset.
The answer came back again.
“The nearest fighters to your position are twenty five miles from your location. They are being scrambled. Long live the Fuhrer!”
Kubermann tore his mask away.
“The Fuhrer can kiss my behind. We are on our own boys,” he said to his crew.
“Do you want me to tell that to the others?” Hunse asked.
“No. Just that help is on its way.”
Hunse did as he was told.
“They will arrive far too late to save us,” Kubermann said sourly, watching the Spitfires flying in a circle.
Bill Smith brought his Spitfire round keeping his eye on the Junkers. The heavy German planes were flying much slower than the British fighters so all Bill could do was strafe and run. The best way to bring a plane down was from behind. Bill brought his Spitfire round in a complete circle and opened fire at the first plane he could target. He could see the red hot tracer as it found its mark and Bill was pleased to see, as he banked, a plume of black smoke trail from one of the German engines.
The third run brought a Junkers critical damage. It began losing height and suddenly exploded in mid air. The English pilots cheered the first casualty. Pieces of burning debris rained down from the sky. The German pilots were changing direction constantly to try to avoid the British firepower but the heavy transporters were too cumbersome to respond quickly enough.
By the time the first of the Messerschmitt’s arrived twenty minutes later they witnessed a scene of total carnage. The British Spitfires were buzzing about like angry bees amongst the much bigger Junkers. Of the transporters most were damaged, many were trailing black smoke, some were on fire and some were literally dropping out of the sky and crashing into the desert.
Jimmy was about to fire another burst at a Junkers when bullets ripped down the side of his Spitfire.
“Hey who the hell just fired at me?” he screamed into his headset for of course mistakes did happen. He looked into his rear view mirror.
“Hey that looks like a Messerschmitt.”
“ENEMY FIGHTERS! ENEMY FIGHTERS!” Tommy Burke was frantically shouting.
Now the battle was joined.
“Stay in amongst the transporters,” Bill said “Don’t let yourselves be drawn off. They’ll be reluctant to hit their own side.”
“Oh God! I’ve got one on my tail,” Jimmy screamed as he turned this way and that trying to shake off the German fighter. Finally he turned quickly and in the same instant sent his plane into a dive which shook the Luftwaffe pilot off.
“Phew that was close,” he said looking out to both sides ex
pecting to see black smoke and flames.
“I’m hit,” he said “But I don’t think it’s bad.”
Bill had recognised his brothers voice.
“Are you able to continue?”
“Affirmative.”
Bill nodded to himself.
He never gave his brother preferential treatment over any of the others. He banked his Spitfire, couldn’t find a fighter to target and opened up on a Junkers. The spray of bullets was devastating to the slow transporter and Bill grinned as he saw flames from one of the engines. As Jimmy passed the Junkers it exploded. He was so close to it that the blast rocked his plane out of control and sent him into a dive. Jimmy fought frantically with his controls. To his horror he saw another transporter only yards in front and he instantly knew he couldn’t avoid it. Instinctively he threw his hands up in front of his face. The right wing of his Spitfire sliced three quarters of the way through the body of the Junkers just in front of its tail. Jimmy’s plane went into a spinning, vertical dive. He fought desperately to gain control and with difficulty he managed to slow the spin. Looking out to the side dread filled him as he saw that his right wing was missing. Knowing that he had no chance of saving his Spitfire Jimmy reached for his harness fastener. He would bale out as soon as he could. It was stuck. He tried it again. He pulled at the belts across his shoulders. Still stuck. He told himself not to panic. He would try the belts again in a moment. The spinning was starting to make him feel sick. He reached for the canopy release, fumbling with it because of the spinning.
The Rolls Royce Merlin engine burst into flames.
Jimmy saw it and panic set in. He tore frantically at the belts that were trapping him.
“Oh God! Oh God!”
He tried the canopy again but couldn’t find the release handle. The two small windscreens in front of him both shattered and the smoke from the fire began filling the cockpit, choking him.