"They're heading for the clouds, boys." Freeman had noticed the low cloud off Gravelines and seen the bombers alter course towards it. "Stay on their tails!"
The Spitfires were still some two thousand yards from the bombers when the German rear gunners opened fire. As he flew towards the hail of bullets, David’s thumb moved to the firing control. Freeman must have sensed that A Flight were preparing to fire, for his voice came over the RT again.
"Hold your fire lads. Wait till we can't miss."
As the six planes drew closer to their quarry, David found himself crouching down in the cockpit to try to minimise his target. He was sweating now. The air was full of bullets, and he felt the thuds as one or two hit his plane, but he flew on, praying they would reach the bombers before they entered the cloud which was drawing swiftly closer. At last the order came.
"Let them have it, boys!"
Six sets of guns fired simultaneously. The smell of cordite filled the cockpit, and David’s eyes began to sting as he watched the hail of bullets tear into the enemy planes. One of the bombers fell in a steep nose-dive, too low for the crew to bail out. The starboard engine of the second burst into flames as the plane disappeared into the cloud, followed by the third, apparently undamaged, bomber.
By this time ’A’ Flight had been in the air for a long time.
"Red Three to Dysoe Leader. I'm getting low on fuel."
"We all are," came the reply. "This cloud stretches for miles, and we'll be damned lucky if we spot those bombers coming out the other side. All right boys, let's head for home."
18
Sarah had arranged her leave to coincide with the nights when Joe was not spotting for the Home Guard, as the Local Defence Volunteers were now called. It felt good to be back in the familiar surroundings of Coventry once more, and she was smiling as she walked into the kitchen to find her mother scrubbing potatoes at the sink.
"I see you're doing that as well!" she laughed. "This war will put the manufacturers of potato peelers out of business!"
Her mother smiled. "That’s true, but they say on the radio that this way is more nutritious, and there's less waste. With the rationing we need the best value for money we can get."
"I know." Sarah sat at the familiar kitchen table. "It's the same down at Heronfield. Even the wounded soldiers are eating exactly the same as everyone else. There is no favouritism at all."
"That's as it should be. They didn't live too well, when your father was at the Front in the last war, you know."
Sarah nodded. "Let's just hope this war will be shorter than the last. I don't think this country could stand to lose another generation of young men."
"And to think we called it the war to end all wars." Alice shook her head sadly. "God knows why men have to keep fighting like this."
"Joe's taking me dancing tonight," Sarah said gaily, in an attempt to get the conversation back onto less morbid lines. "There's a dance on in the canteen at the aircraft factory."
Alice laughed. "You'd think he'd have enough of planes what with making them all day and looking for them all night." She turned from her work and smiled fondly at her daughter. "You've got a good man there, Sarah. He's always popping in to see if I'm all right. You just make sure you don't let him get away."
Sarah's eyes were shining as she smiled back at Alice.
"I don't intend to, Mum."
The canteen at the aircraft factory was festooned with bunting, a band had set up at one end while light refreshments were laid out on the serving counter at the other. When Sarah and Joe arrived, a number of couples had already taken to the floor and were dancing with gusto. Smiling at Sarah, Joe took her by the hand and led her out onto the floor. The band was playing a fast popular dance tune, and Sarah was laughing breathlessly when it finally ended.
"Oh, Joe! I must sit down!"
Joe laughed. "I thought you'd be fitter than this, now you're running around on your feet all day!"
"Nursing does make you fit Joe, but tired as well. Besides," she squeezed his hand as she smiled up into the laughing blue eyes, "I want a chance to talk to you and find out what you've been up to these last few weeks."
"All right." Joe led her to a table, before fetching drinks for both of them. He sat close beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. Sarah leant happily against the warm bulk of his body. "Now tell me everything."
Joe shrugged. "I suppose I've told you just about everything in my letters. Between work and the Home Guard I don't get much time to myself, and what little I do get I usually spend resting. The last couple of weeks have been extra busy. We've had to increase the output of fighter planes, and the repair facilities have been working flat out. There must have been a lot of action going on over the coast, more than the BBC let on."
Sarah nodded. "David Kemshall, the eldest son of the house where I'm working, is stationed down there. His brother Tony seems quite worried about him."
"I bet." Joe chuckled. "On first name terms with the nobility now, I see. Soon I won't be good enough for you."
"Don't be daft," she said gently. "You know that you're the only man for me."
Sarah's head was still resting on his shoulder so Joe did not see her blush and Sarah was thankful, she was not sure how Joe would react to her friendship with Tony.
Joe kissed her soft curls.
"I'm glad to hear it. So, what's this Tony Kemshall up to then?"
"Well, that's rather strange." Sarah was not quite sure how much she should say. "He's working as a Liaison Officer for the Ministry of Economic Warfare. It's a sort of desk job really. He won't be called on to go into action, and his family seem to be taking it rather badly."
"I'm not surprised. I'd jump at the chance to be able to fight for my country. Desk jobs and factory work are all right for old folks and people like me who can't get into the army, but any fit young man should be out there doing his bit. Unless he’s a coward, that is."
"Oh, I don't think so. He was at Dunkirk and did quite well there by all accounts. He said he just thinks that if this is what the bosses want, then they must know best."
"That's a good excuse." Joe looked quizzically down at Sarah. “You're rather quick to jump to his defence, aren't you?"
Sarah shrugged. "I don't think so. I suppose it's so quiet out in the country that the only thing you can do with your spare time is to poke your nose into other people's business! But that's enough about other people. I don't get enough time with you as it is, so let's not waste it. Aren't you going to dance with me again?"
“I thought you’d never ask!”
The band was playing a waltz, and Joe smiled lovingly at Sarah as he took her hand. As Joe enfolded her in his arms all thoughts of Heronfield House and the problems of the Kemshall family were banished from Sarah's mind. Here in Joe's arms was where she wanted to be more than anything in the world, and as the music played on she wished the night would never end.
A nurse’s leave in wartime was all too short. As Sarah rose on the morning after the dance, her happiness at being able to spend time with Joe was tempered with sadness at the thought of returning to Heronfield that afternoon. It was not that she did not enjoy her job, she did, in fact Sarah was beginning to think that once the war was over she might train as a proper nurse. It would be far more rewarding than an auxiliary helper. She would put the idea to Joe, once she had more time to think about it.
Joe called round early, as eager to make the most of the little time remaining to them as Sarah herself. It was a bright, sunny morning, the kind of day that filled one with a joy of life, and they enjoyed the morning walking and talking in a Coventry comparatively untouched by the war. True, there were patriotic posters everywhere warning that 'walls have ears' and encouraging people to 'dig for victory’. Anti-aircraft guns pointed their muzzles to the sky, and there were signs pointing the way to public air raid shelters, but around all this life went on as normal.
Sarah sighed sadly.
“What’s wrong love?”
“I was just thinking how different things must be in the towns and cities of Northern Europe, the ones which have already been overrun by the Germans. Swastikas in the streets, German uniforms. It must be so strange to have those things in your home town.”
"Don't worry." Joe’s words were comforting. "That won't happen here. The RAF will stop the Germans from landing, but if they do, by some miracle, set foot on British soil, they will never get past the beaches. Our homes here in Coventry will be quite safe."
Sarah looked about her at the familiar streets and houses. “I hope you’re right Joe. I never want them to touch us here.”
Joe leant down and silenced her fears with a tender kiss.
They lunched at a small café and Sarah wished that the hours would pass more slowly so that they could spend more time together, but the hands of the clock moved inexorably round. Soon it was two o'clock. Sarah smiled at Joe, her eyes filled with sadness.
"I have to go now or I’ll miss my train."
Joe nodded as he rose to his feet and led the way out of the cafe. Sarah had already said goodbye to Alice, and had her overnight bag with her so that she did not need to go back home. They made their slow way to a station full of noise and bustle, as people met friends or said fond farewells. A train pulled into the platform, enveloping the couple in a cloud of steam as the brakes screamed and the engine settled with a whoosh beside them. Joe carried Sarah's bag to a vacant carriage and placed it inside before helping her up and closing the door behind her.
Opening the window, Sarah leant out to say goodbye as Joe reached up and kissed her tenderly.
"Take care of yourself, Sarah." His voice was little more than a whisper.
She reached out a hand to gently caress his cheek. "I'll miss you, Joe." Her voice caught in her throat. Who knew in these uncertain days how long it would be before they were able to see each other again? A whistle blew and the train began to move slowly away.
"I love you, Sarah!"
With tears in her eyes Sarah withdrew her hand as the train drew them further apart.
"I love you too, Joe, with all my heart."
Suddenly he was gone, engulfed in a cloud of steam which billowed from the train. Sarah pulled her head into the carriage and slowly sat down. It almost broke her heart to leave Joe on the station platform, yet she was only going away to the comparative safety of a convalescent home. In that moment, Sarah had her first inkling of how it must be for soldiers and their families as the war called more and more men from their homes. She understood fully, for the first time, just what her mother must have felt when she said goodbye to Sarah's father on that very same platform. He had gone to his death without even knowing that his wife was expecting a child, and Alice had been left alone. Sarah felt the weight of maturity settling upon her shoulders. She had thought that she had grown up when she left home to join the VAD, but now she was beginning to realise that life was not as simple as she had thought, that love and pain often go hand in hand, and there is nothing that mere mortals can do about it. As the train headed southward, Sarah prayed that the war would stay far away from Coventry and that Joe would be safe.
19
The long hot month of July was drawing to a close at last. It was early afternoon when the scramble alarm sounded, and the pilots of 74 Squadron, who had been enjoying a few moments’ relaxation in the warm summer sun, leapt to their feet and raced for their planes. In a matter of minutes they were airborne and heading for Dover.
"Tally Ho! Huns at three o'clock!"
David looked over to his right, to see a flight of bombers escorted by at least thirty fighters headed towards the coast.
"Looks like three to one against us." Reynolds voice rang through the RT. "Shouldn't be a problem, hey boys? Follow me!"
He led Red Section down onto the tails of eight 109's which had failed to spot the incoming Spitfires. Opening fire on one, he disabled its controls then switched his attention to attack another fighter, which had crossed right in front of his nose. As he fired into it, the plane began to go down in a steep spiral, trailing smoke behind it.
"Good hit, Red Leader," David called as he fired on an enemy to the left of Reynolds. The German broke away from the fight and headed towards the French coast, engine smoking. Turning to attack two more of the fighters, David called "That's one for me, lads!"
As David threw his plane expertly from side to side in swift pursuit of the enemy, he saw his bullets tearing into both his targets and gave a whoop of elation. Three damaged planes in one sortie! This was the life! Suddenly his euphoria evaporated as his plane was attacked from behind. Bullets thudded into the fuselage of his Spitfire as he broke away, desperately trying to climb to avoid his pursuer. Then the heady smell of glycol fumes entered the cockpit. The Merlin engine began to run roughly, coughing and spluttering. With a sinking feeling deep inside, David realised that this was no minor damage to the plane. The moment he had been dreading had arrived at last.
"Red Three to Red Leader. Red Three to Red Leader. Engine about to seize! I've got no control, so I'm baling out!"
"Red Leader to Red Three. Good luck, David. I'll have a pint waiting for you on the bar."
"I'll need it." David's voice was tense as he reached up to pull back the cockpit hood. With one last look at the useless controls, he threw himself from the plane. Suddenly he was falling through a world which tumbled all around him, so that he could hardly tell sea from sky. Then he was pulled up sharply by the opening of his chute. As he hung suspended in limbo between the heavens and the earth, he watched his plane fall towards the sea. Then he lifted his eyes to the dogfight raging high above him. It was an unwritten law with both the RAF and the Luftwaffe that pilots who had bailed out should not be fired on, so David felt safe from direct attack, but he prayed fervently that no stray bullet from the battle above would find him in this vulnerable position.
Above him and to his right David saw Freeman lead Yellow Section against a second flight of fifty fighters. One of the enemy was brought down before the three Spitfires turned and headed for home, one trailing smoke, their ammunition gone. Away to his left, Blue Section were in the thick of things and under heavy fire. The air was filled with the roar of their engines and the chatter of their machine guns as they brought down a fighter, before they too were heading for home to re-fuel and re-arm.
David looked down at the murky water towards which he was falling, then looked up again to see a Spitfire of Green Section in a head-on pass with the enemy. They missed colliding by a matter of feet and the Spitfire turned to attack again, but David could not watch the outcome. He had to concentrate on the water racing up to meet him.
'Feet together and keep stiff,' he thought, remembering the training exercises he had been through. Then he was down. The cold waters of the English Channel engulfed him, forcing the breath from his lungs as he fought to release the harness of his parachute. At last it gave. With lungs bursting, he kicked away from the billowing mass of wet silk, before striking upwards towards the surface. Finally his head broke through, and he gulped in mouthfuls of precious life-giving air. Gasping for breath, yet now in control of himself once more, he inflated his Mae West and began to float on his back, looking up to where the dogfight had taken place. The Spitfires had all gone now. He assumed that they must have used up all of their ammunition, and the German fighters were headed back towards France. Only a few smoke trails in the sky showed that a life and death struggle had raged so recently overhead.
As David floated, he wondered how long it would be before an Air Sea Rescue craft could reach him. Reynolds would have reported his position, and he was still within sight of the white cliffs which flanked Dover. Maybe an hour, he thought, as he shivered with the cold. He began to swim slowly towards the shore, the movement bringing a little warmth to his chilled limbs as he fought against the retreating tide. In fact it was only a little over thirty-five minutes later that he heard the approaching craft. Waving his arms vigorously, David
was relieved when the boat turned and headed towards him. As it drew alongside, eager hands reached down to grab him and help drag him aboard.
"Thanks, lads. Boy, am I glad to see you!"
The boat turned and headed swiftly towards the shore, and a blanket was placed around David's shoulders.
"Are you hurt?"
David shook his head. “No. Just cold."
David huddled down in the boat, trying to avoid the chill breeze and to get warm again as they sped back towards the shore. None too soon he found himself sitting in a staff car in borrowed clothes with his wet uniform in a bag at his feet, heading back to RAF Manston. The tension of the dogfight coupled with the cold of the English Channel even in the height of summer, the relief of being picked up safely and finally being warm, all conspired to lull David into a deep sleep. He was unaware of the journey back. It was almost dark when a hand shook his shoulder and brought him back to wakefulness.
"Come on, David, you're home now."
He opened his eyes to see Andy Richies bending over him.
"Andy? What are you doing here?"
"I live here, remember!" Andy laughed. "You're back at Manston."
As the young man helped him out of the car, David came fully awake. The shadowy bulk of the buildings was familiar, and David felt he had come home. With a cheery smile and a wave, he thanked the driver, who turned and headed back towards Dover while Andy led the way to their sleeping quarters.
"Boy, am I glad to be back." David smiled at the young man. "I don't mind admitting, it was rather scary out there."
"You're one of the lucky ones. Brennan has been wounded; he'll be all right though. But I'm afraid Youngs is dead."
David stopped for a moment, and Andy waited quietly while his companion assimilated the news. It was hard, but the war must go on. Trying to bury his relief at being safe, yet sadness at the fate of his colleague, David turned to his young friend.
Heronfield Page 12