The Russian Resistance

by Simon Brading

  He led her almost as far north as Inverness before swinging back around. On their way back south, he detoured to Ben Nevis and took her on a swooping ride around the collapsed crater and through the gullies and ridges before once again turning for home. However, when they were once again nearing Taynuilt, he surprised her when he straightened out and began to climb, but she quickly caught up and fell in next to him, wingtip to wingtip and looked over.

  He grinned at her. ‘How’re ye doing there, Abby? Filled yer trews yet?’

  ‘Afraid not, Mac. Looks like I win.’

  He laughed again, throwing his head back. ‘Not yet ye haven’t!’ By now they had reached eight thousand feet, just above a solid layer of cloud. ‘Here’s a last wee test for yer, lassie!’

  No sooner had he spoken than he pushed his stick forwards, nosing his aircraft into a dive.

  Abby followed suit, her stomach hitting her chin and her eyes filling briefly with red as the G forces surged far into negative numbers. She remained on his wing and slightly behind him, not wanting to collide with him if he throttled back, but he didn’t, instead, he kept the power on as they dived, pointing almost directly downwards.

  They were through the clouds in scant seconds and they burst back into clear air, the ground appearing once more, shocking in its closeness as it filled Abby’s vision. Her hand twitched as her instincts screamed at her to pull back on the stick and she barely managed to stop herself, gritting her teeth and clenching her muscles as the needle on her airspeed indicator went up and up, at the same time as the dark blue of Loch Etive loomed ever nearer.

  ‘So, Abby, this squadron of yers, will I have to do all that salutin’ and marchin’ and stuff?’

  Abby blinked, unable to quite believe that he was trying to carry out a normal conversation when they were less than fifteen seconds away from ploughing into the waters of a loch. ‘You might have to salute the Emperor occasionally, but apart from that, no. And no marching whatsoever.’

  ‘That’s a shame, I quite like a bit of marching occasionally; it’s quite stimulating.’ He laughed.

  Abby glanced across at him, then looked at the ground, so close below them and coming a lot closer with every passing second. She looked back at him and tensed, her hand tightening on the stick, preparing to pull it back, not willing to kill herself just to convince a pilot, who was obviously suicidal, to join her.

  ‘Hold on to yer hat!’ With a primal howl, the Scotsman pulled out of the dive and Abby instantly followed suit, yelling to keep the G forces from causing her to black out.

  The nose of the two aircraft came up together, but painfully slowly, too slowly, and Gwen’s scream took on a note of panic as she assessed the manoeuvre and saw that she wasn’t going to make it. She fought to pull the stick further back, putting every ounce of her strength into it, knowing that Butterfly could take it. Her weight increased minimally as the aircraft pulled up ever so slightly more, but it was enough.

  She came out of the dive less than ten yards above the water and watched in amazement as Mac did the same... nine and a half yards below her, his floats sending up a light mist of water. She glanced at her air speed indicator and winced; even though the needle was falling rapidly it was still showing over three hundred miles an hour. At that speed, if the floats had touched the water any more firmly the man’s aircraft would have nosed in from the friction and been torn to shreds.

  The white plume of water disappeared as the madman gained a couple of yards more height and she put Butterfly back on his wing.

  ‘I thought I had ye at the end there.’

  ‘You almost did,’ Abby admitted.

  The Scotsman’s laughter came over the radio, obviously delighted with the afternoon’s fun. ‘Well, if ye still want me, I’m yers and so are me bairns. Set yerself down and we’ll have a wee chinwag.’

  ‘Roger that, Mac, and welcome to Misfit Squadron.’ Abby grinned and banked steeply away from him. She permitted herself a smart barrel roll to celebrate, before heading back to the field she’d landed on.

  Chapter 7

  With only Dreadnought left to repair and a few days left before they left for Muscovy, Gwen wanted to begin making modifications to Wasp and Dragonfly. Abby vetoed the idea, though, saying that the squadron needed the time for training. They were crossing the ocean on an aircraft carrier and to make their embarkation as quick as possible, A and B flights were going to land on the carrier and needed to learn how to do so. Of C flight, only Scarlet would fly to the carrier, the rest would land at a nearby airfield and have their aircraft dismantled for the journey.

  A naval airman was sent to teach them about carrier landings and he had an area the size of the Arturo painted on the landing field, along with four lines near one end that represented the four “arrester wires” that stretched across the carrier’s deck, which helped to stop aircraft that landed on it.

  The setup wasn’t ideal because the airfield wasn’t moving forwards or pitching up and down like an aircraft carrier would do, but it was the best they had. Over the space of an afternoon of continuous flying, the pilots got used to aiming at a target that was far smaller than the one they usually did and touching down on a precise point. The Navy man had them landing as close to the third “wire” as possible, then putting on full power to take off again, simulating a failed attempt. They easily got the hang of it and after only a few tries, they were all doing it pretty much perfectly every time.

  It seemed that landing was going to be no problem for any of the aircraft of A or B flight making the trip directly to the Arturo, but taking off again was going to be a very different prospect.

  The eight aircraft took it in turns to sit at the end of the painted-out flight deck, run their airscrews to full power, then release their brakes, trying to take off in the space that was allotted to them.

  A flight had no real problems in carrying out the manoeuvre, but it soon became clear that none of B flight’s machines could get even close and at the end of the day they had to face the fact that those aircraft would be unable to fly for the duration of the journey.

  When flying had finished for the day, the naval airman had actual arrester wires installed on the airfield for the pilots so that they could get the feel of making the landing and they were ready in the morning for when the Misfits turned up.

  After a few trial runs, they made a game of it.

  Points were awarded for hitting the third wire, less for the second and fourth and even less for the first. No points were awarded for someone landing past the wires without hooking at all and all accumulated points were taken away from anybody who missed the deck entirely.

  Hooks had been installed in the aircraft of A and B flight during the previous week in preparation for the mission and, despite Hummingbird not needing a hook, Scarlet had insisted on getting one “just in case” and she joined in the fun, but only after Abby had banned her from cheating and using her overhead rotor.

  The competition turned into quite an event and the support personnel made their way to the airfield to watch whenever they found themselves off duty. They sat on the grass in front of the buildings, bringing food and drink with them and Squadron Leader Billingsworth gave them permission to patch a radio into the tannoy system so that they could play music, turning the occasion into a bit of a picnic. Throughout it all, the photographer that Freddy Featherstonehaugh had brought with him, Mr Jones, a small weaselly-looking man in his forties with an intense gaze but a very nervous nature, scurried around, taking candid photographs as unobtrusively as he could.

  A flight had the best overall results because of their manoeuvrability and lower landing speeds, but once again Chastity showed how good a pilot she was.

  The newest Misfit had named her aircraft “Dove” and painted it completely white, except for thin brown highlights on the wings and tail that were reminiscent of feathers and pink blades on the airscrew, and she landed perfectly time after time, catching the three wire. In the end, though, she was
pipped to the post by Abby when a gust of wind made her overshoot the mark on her final attempt and catch the four wire.

  The Misfits wanted there to be some kind of trophy for Abby, like the airscrew that that Gwen had been made to wear after the glidewing contest and Owen proposed that she perhaps be cocooned in arrester wire for the day. However, Abby wouldn’t let them do anything silly, simply because they couldn’t afford to waste any flying time and the pilots accepted, grumbling, but as soon as she was out of earshot they began discussing what they could do to her on the journey, or in Muscovy.

  The day before the Misfits were due to leave, Lord Bagshot decided to throw a farewell party in the evening. A pavilion was set up in the grounds, food and drink brought in, guests invited, and musicians organised, but before everybody could enjoy themselves, the preparations for the journey had to be finished completely. and that included briefing those people that were going.

  None of the squadron, except for the pilots, who had been sworn to secrecy, knew exactly where they were going yet, although, thanks to the carrier landing exercises, everybody now knew they were going by sea. Not everybody in the squadron was making the journey to Muscovy either - the administration staff weren’t needed because Dorothy Campbell and her staff were going to be taking care of the admin for the entire mission, nor were most of the mechanics and other support staff needed for the same reason. Those people that were being left behind were to be scattered among other RAC squadrons, wherever they were most needed, but would be recovered when the Misfits returned. Not even Jimmy was coming with them; Abby had told him in no uncertain terms that he was to stay behind and had arranged for him to join a Spitsteam squadron for the duration - the same one that his current girlfriend, Rebecca, was going to, which mollified him slightly.

  In the end, then, it was a little more than a hundred people, the pilots, their fitters and a few other essential personnel, who filed into the ballroom of Bagshot Hall to be briefed by Dorothy Campbell on the details of their mission.

  Three of the boards from the briefing room at Badger Base had been set up at the front of the room, but they were covered in white sheets to hide what was pinned to them and drew many a curious look from the men and women as they took their seats.

  Abby and Dot Campbell were sitting behind a desk at the front of the room next to the boards and as soon as everybody was settled Abby stood up to start things off.

  ‘Morning, everybody. As you’ve probably guessed, Whitehall has a job for us to do, so tomorrow we get back into the war.’

  There was some cheering at this from the support staff, but it died down quickly; they were eager to hear what Abby had to say. The pilots stayed silent throughout, though; they knew that there was no cause for celebration.

  Abby waited for silence to fall again before continuing. ‘The mission is not what any of us were expecting, though. With the bombing in Britain moving more towards small night raids there is no longer any need for us here, so we are being sent to help in another theatre of the war.’ She nodded to a couple of airmen and they pulled the sheets off of the boards to reveal several large-scale maps.

  The leftmost board had a map of Northern England pinned to it, the one in the middle had one showing the northern oceans, with a route marked on it in red, but it was the third board, showing their destination, that everybody’s eyes shot to.

  Abby picked up a wooden pointed from the desk and went over to the huge map, which showed the whole of the eastern end of Europe from Finland to the Ukraine.

  The geography of the east was not one of the subjects widely taught at schools in the former British Empire, and the countries pictured on it were unfamiliar to many of the people present, but there was no need for them to ask as she immediately tapped their destination with the pointer and named it for them.

  ‘We are being sent here, to Murmansk, in the north of the Kingdom of Muscovy, what most of you will know better as the Russian Empire. There we will join with the Muscovite Air Force in trying to hold back the Prussian armies that are even now on their way east.’

  There were surprised murmurs and the support staff whispered among themselves, but silence fell again rapidly as the men and women turned their attention back to their commander.

  Abby went to the map of England and once again used the pointer to illustrate her words. ‘The squadron will take off tomorrow morning at dawn. The aircraft of A and B flights, along with Hummingbird, will fly directly to the HMS Arturo, which is waiting for us at Gourock, about ten miles downriver from Glasgow. The remainder of C flight, along with the rest of the support staff in the Lekker and a few other transports procured for us by Sky Commodore Campbell will go to an aerodrome near the port of Glasgow. There they will remove the wings of Bloodhound and Vulture and pack the two aircraft up for transport before being brought downriver and transferred to the carrier along with Dreadnought, which is already there. The taskforce, comprising the Arturo, three destroyers and attending supply and support ships will depart as soon as everything is aboard.’

  She stood in front of the middle board and faced her audience. ‘From then on and until we reach Muscovy, we will essentially be guests of His Majesty’s Navy, although the aircraft of A flight may be called upon to defend the convoy if we find ourselves under attack. Conditions will undoubtedly be different to the ones that you are used to, more cramped and with worse food, but I expect you to behave in as exemplary a fashion as you would anywhere else when in uniform.’

  There were some chuckles at this and a few knowing looks thrown in the direction of the pilots; the support staff were well aware of how well-behaved Bruce and Mac were and had all heard the story of them befouling the steps of The Dorchester the night of the fight with the Barons.

  Abby rolled her eyes. ‘Alright, I’d like you to behave better than that, but it would probably be too much to ask. Just don’t get into any fights and make me have to throw you overboard.’ She shook her head in exasperation and glanced over at the Sky Commodore. ‘They’re all yours.’

  Campbell stood up, a broad smile on her face, and took the pointer from Abby as the latter sat down.

  ‘Good morning, Misfits.’

  Abby raised her eyebrows at the chorus of replies that the Sky Commodore elicited; she herself hadn’t warranted, or even expected, such a courtesy, but it seemed that a guest did. She met Owen’s eyes, but the Welshman just grinned at her and pointedly turned away to look at the woman giving the briefing.

  ‘First of all, I want to tell you how important this mission is. As most of you may know, at the beginning of this little shindig people are already calling the Second Great War, the Prussian Empire signed a non-aggression pact with the Russian Empire, what is now the Kingdom of Muscovy which essentially let the Prussians do what they wanted with Europe and Africa as long as they didn’t do anything the Muscovites didn’t want them to do. However, now that we’ve stopped them here in the west, they’re looking for something else to do and it seems that they’ve turned their eyes on this big fat prize to the east.’

  She went to the map of Eastern Europe and pointed out places as she named them. ‘They have already broken the pact by invading neutral Ukraine and the Muscovite Baltic territories and are now looking to push on into the heart of Muscovy itself. If they manage to defeat the Muscovites, they will be given access to untold resources and will most likely swarm back west and overrun us. Tsar Nicholas has specifically asked for the Misfits to help prevent that from happening. Our task is to hold back the invading armies in the north and keep the Arctic supply lines open for more convoys like ours, while the Muscovite army tries to hold the centre and south of the line.’

  She held up her hand as murmurs started. ‘Now, that doesn’t mean we have to defeat the Prussians all by ourselves, although knowing this squadron you’ll give it a damn good try.’

  As she had expected, her audience laughed and the tension that had been building dissipated. She turned back to the maps and pointed at the one in t
he middle with the red line on it that threaded its way through the Arctic. ‘The Arturo and its convoy will steam north to Iceland. There it will join up with another convoy that left days earlier, comprising more escort ships and supply ships with the rest of the armaments that we are taking to the Muscovites, among them ammunition, tanks, artillery pieces and the Harridan fighters that will form the backbone of the Muscovite air force.’

  Campbell glanced at Abby. ‘There are three RAC instructors going with us to train the Muscovites on the Harridans and they’ll be billeting with your pilots on the Arturo. Try not to be too bad an influence on them; they have a serious job to do when they get there.’

  Abby blinked at her, feigning shock. ‘Us? Bad influences? We would never do anything to corrupt any of the King’s men and women or tarnish the reputation of the Royal Aviation Corps!’

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t...’ Campbell shook her head and sighed, to more laughter from the Misfits, then turned back to the board. ‘From Iceland the entire convoy will head north-east, giving the Scandinavian countries a fairly wide berth, before darting in to the Muscovite coast and making landfall near Murmansk. Misfit Squadron will then be transferred to Vaenga airfield, some miles from the city, along with the Harridans and the instructors.’

  She pointed out the map of the area around the north of Muscovy. ‘The main threat you’ll be facing will come from Finland. They’re allied with the Prussians and are providing them with a way to move directly against the north of Muscovy. We’re expecting heavy fighting because, as I’ve said, they’re in a bit of a hurry for some reason. That’s in our favour, though, because unless they have this whole area conquered before the winter sets in, they’ll have to leave it until spring, which means their flanks will be open if their forces in the south push too far forwards. So, if we can hold the Prussian assault in the north back until the depths of winter - early December at the latest - then the weather will do our job for us and we’ll be able to come home.