The Russian Resistance

by Simon Brading

  ‘It was years ago. I taught Gwen to fly.’

  ‘Oooh, Rudy, you liar! You did not!

  ‘Did too!’

  ‘It was Manfred who taught me.’

  ‘At first, but when he left, I took over.’

  Gwen conceded the point with a nod. ‘Yes, but I’d already solo’d by then. You only taught me aerobatics.’

  Drake, or Rudy as he’d been, when she hadn’t been calling him “Digger” (for the unfortunate tendency he had of landing his fortunately forgiving aircraft too hard while he was learning and carving divots out of the airfield) nodded. ‘I’ll give you that, but there’s a big difference between flying a circuit and actually flying and that was due to me.’

  Gwen snorted and prepared to give a scathing reply, but she fell silent and blushed when she heard the sniggers that were coming from all around her. Too late she realised that the two of them had picked up where they’d left off and returned to the childish bickering that had formed a large part of their conversations in the past.

  ‘Oh, please, don’t stop on our account; this is absolutely fascinating.’ Abby smiled at them before popping the last few crumbs of her cake into her mouth and licking marzipan from her fingers.

  Gwen could feel her cheeks growing even warmer and she took refuge in a sandwich while she stared at her tea, but Drake just laughed. ‘I apologise, Wing Commander.’

  Abby nodded graciously. ‘No need to apologise; we’re used to this kind of behaviour from Goosy.’

  The pilots broke out into laughter, no longer able to contain themselves and Gwen shrank as all eyes turned to her, wishing the inadequately padded sofa she was sharing with Kitty and Scarlet would swallow her.

  Abby waited for the laughter to die down before leaning forwards to get another slice of cake. ‘What is the story behind that name anyway?’

  ‘There isn’t one.’ Gwen mumbled, then thrust a finger at Rudy, her eyes wide with alarm, when he grinned and opened his mouth to speak. ‘Don’t you dare! Or I’ll tell them about the nuns.’

  It was Rudy’s turn to cringe, and he eyed his fellow instructors nervously, prompting a fresh round of laughter, which only died down when the door opened and Dorothy Campbell came in, accompanied by a Naval officer and Midshipman Simkin.

  Chastity jumped to her feet at the sight of the superior officers, quickly followed by the instructors. The other Misfits stared at them for a few seconds, before groaning and slowly following their example, but Campbell just laughed and waved them down again. ‘Oh, don’t bother.’ She wandered over and took a spare armchair in the ring around the coffee table and looked up at the still-standing Chastity. ‘I could murder a cup of tea, please.’

  ‘Right away, ma’am. Gentlemen?’

  When both Naval officers shook their heads, the Aviator Sergeant hurried over to the table at the side of the room and poured just one mug which she brought back to Campbell.

  ‘Ah, that’s the ticket, thank you.’ Campbell nodded at Chastity before smiling at the group. ‘Morning, everyone and thank you for coming. I hope you enjoyed your flight, because odds are you aren’t going to get back into the air for a week or so, conditions and the Prussians permitting.’

  The Misfits had known this, but they still groaned and she chuckled before continuing. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of work to do when we get to where we’re going, so take the opportunity to have a good rest and try to think of this as a pleasure cruise.’

  Bruce blew a raspberry, provoking laughter from everyone, including Campbell. ‘Seriously, though, there isn’t going to be much to do on the journey, so try to think of ways to stay sane. Because we’re under Navy rules you’ll get a rum ration every day, so that should help a bit, but it won’t be enough for some of you people.’ She looked pointedly at Bruce and Mac; obviously the story of their disgracing the steps of The Dorchester had made the rounds even at Whitehall. ‘Just try to stay out of trouble and be ready to go straight into action when we get to Muscovy, please.’

  She turned in her seat to nod at the naval officer, who had moved to stand behind her. ‘This is Lieutenant Commander Bush, he’s our liaison with the captain. Mr Bush?’

  The commander nodded to the group. ‘Pleased to meet you. Anything you need, just let me or Midshipman Simkin know and we’ll try to sort you out. Just don’t ask for more rum, because you won’t get it.’

  Mac scowled and turned to Abby. ‘I don’t like this boat. Where do I get off?’

  Abby smiled sweetly at him. ‘Shut up, Mac. Sorry, Commander, please go on.’

  ‘Sounds like it’s going to be an interesting passage...’ The Commander chuckled and shook his head. ‘Anyway, I came to let you know that the rest of your people are on their way - their ship just left Glasgow and they’ll be transferred as soon as they arrive. When they’re safely aboard we’ll get on our way and once we’re out to sea, I’ll come and get you and take you to see the captain, then around the ship for a quick tour. After that, you’ll have free rein of the flight deck, the hangar and this level, which is where the mess halls are, but I’m sorry, the rest of the Arturo will be out of bounds to you; we don’t want you getting hurt.’

  Abby grinned. ‘Or getting in the way?’

  He smiled at her. ‘Well, I wasn’t going to say it, but that either.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Commander, as I told Mister Simkin, we’ll behave ourselves.’

  ‘Thank you. Well, that’s all I came to say. As I said, I’ll be back when we’re out to sea.’ He looked at Dorothy Campbell. ‘The jolly boat is standing by to take you to the flagship when you’re ready, ma’am.

  ‘Thank you, Commander, I’ll be right there.’ Campbell nodded to him and he returned it, then left, taking the Midshipman with him.

  Once the door had closed, Campbell looked around, taking in the metal walls and the battered seats. ‘Well, it’s not Bagshot Hall, but I’ll wager we’ve all had worse.’ She held up her mug. ‘At least there’s tea, eh?’

  ‘Are you not staying with us, Dot?’ Abby asked.

  ‘No, I have to be in the flagship with the rest of the task force commanders, which means I won’t be seeing a lot of you during the voyage and I’m also going to be staying with the fleet until we get to Archangel so I won’t be around to see you settle in to Vaenga. I assume I can trust you not to get into too much trouble without me during all that time?’

  She gazed around the group questioningly, but received only innocent expressions in return and groaned. ‘Lord help us all...’ She drained her tea and grabbed a slice of cake before standing and going to the door.

  ‘Happy hunting, Misfits.’ She smiled, gave Abby a wink, then left.

  Chapter 9

  The fitters and the rest of the pilots, along with the crates holding the larger aircraft, came on board less than an hour later and the ship got under way. It wallowed slightly as it turned, betraying how top-heavy it was, but it was not too alarming and when it had settled on its course the only thing that betrayed the fact that it was moving was the constant vibration of its massive engines. There was no up and down or side to side movement at all, which was a good sign for if they had to fly from it during the journey to provide air cover. This was the first convoy taking the northern passage to Muscovy and they had to pass Norway, recently occupied by Prussia, and Finland, one of its allies, to do so and had no idea what kind of resistance they were going to encounter, if any. The ships were of course armed with ship to air weapons, but they were ineffectual at best and if they were attacked the convoy would rely on A flight for defence, along with Hummingbird and the two Navy fighters that the Arturo carried.

  There was plenty of tea left over for the three C flight pilots and they helped themselves as soon as they joined their companions, wrapping their hands around their mugs to take away the chill of the brief, but brisk, trip along the river. The sandwiches and cakes had taken quite a beating, but that didn’t bother them much; they had had plenty of time to stuff their faces at the aer
odrome while their aircraft were being dismantled.

  Abby filled them in on what Dot Campbell and Lieutenant Commander Bush had said, but that didn’t take long and the conversation naturally turned to speculation about Gwen’s childhood nickname. Fortunately, though, she was spared too much embarrassment by the appearance of Midshipman Simkin who seemed to have completely lost his nervousness around them after seeing them joking around with the senior officers before. He informed them that the captain would be delighted to receive them on the bridge before their brief familiarisation tour.

  The corridor outside their room ran all the way along the side of the ship from stem to stern and they followed Simkin along it towards the bow, passing dozens of closed doors, identical to the one leading to their rooms, and the occasional sailor, each of whom gave them curious looks.

  The bridge occupied the entire width of the ship, fifty yards or so back from the pointed bow, and it was on two levels. The level that they entered was the lower of the two, the support deck, and it was filled with gauges and wheels and indicators, with more than a dozen men and women rushing back and forth between them, seemingly at random.

  An ornate brass spiral staircase, wide enough for three people to ascend side by side, was in the corner of the room immediately to their left and Simkin took them up it to the command deck above.

  The contrast between the two areas of the bridge couldn’t have been greater. While the room below had been airless, enclosed and cave-like, lit by electric lanterns and soft indicator lights, the command deck was airy, spacious and bright, with plenty of room to move around. It had huge windows on three sides which provided plenty of natural light, a brisk breeze and a spectacular view of the Scottish coast sliding slowly past on both sides. Curiously, though, because the ship had a completely flat top to give aircraft as much room as possible, the bridge was underneath the flight deck and the thick metal slab jutted out in front of it, blocking any sight of the sky.

  In contrast to the crowded room below, there were very few crew members here and there was an air of quiet preparedness, rather than the chaos below.

  A couple of sailors were standing by a single bank of instruments which lined one wall under the port side windows, an officer was at the ready at the tables covered with charts beneath the starboard ones and another officer along with a third sailor manned a large old-fashioned wooden wheel, which looked as if it had come off of a Napoleonic war vessel, in front of the forwards windows.

  Dominating the room, though, was a huge wooden chair on a plinth, with dials on one arm and what looked like an antique speaking horn built into the other. A large man with an equally large beard, shot with white, and impressively bushy eyebrows occupied the chair and he turned to look as the pilots appeared at the top of the stairs behind him. He all but leapt out of his seat, bouncing down to the floor, and rushed over to meet them.

  ‘Our distinguished guests! Come aboard, come aboard!’

  The captain, Johnathan Hewer, shook everybody’s hand as they stepped onto the wooden deck, giving each of them a warm smile, but when he had greeted the last of the pilots, he leaned over the brass rail to peer down the spiral staircase. ‘Is that the lot of you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Abby nodded. ‘Were you not informed how many of us you’d be accommodating?’

  ‘Of course, but I didn’t think it possible that so few of you had managed to do so much to turn the tide of this war.’

  ‘We weren’t alone in our efforts, Captain.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ he nodded at Pemberton and the other instructors. ‘One cannot overstate the sacrifice that the rest of our noble aviators have made, but the way the press paint it, the Misfits were alone in the skies against the entirety of Die Fliegertruppe!’

  Abby sighed. ‘Yes, we’re not exactly happy about that.’

  The big man nodded, a knowing look in his eye. ‘I’m very glad to hear that. The last thing that Britain needs right now are heroes who believe that their work is done and they can rest on their laurels.’ He waved a hand vaguely at his bridge. ‘I wanted to welcome you in person, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to excuse me now; my officers need orders. I will see you later at dinner.’

  ‘We look forward to it, sir.’

  ‘Excellent! Good day, then, Wing Commander.’ He nodded at Simkin. ‘Take good care of them, Midshipman.’

  ‘Aye aye, sir.’ The young man saluted then went and opened the door in the back of the bridge. ‘This way, please.’

  The pilots were herded out of the door and into the bare metal corridor that ran the width of the ship behind the bridge. There were doors some yards to either side and the Midshipman led them towards the one on the left, speaking over his shoulder to them as he did. ‘I don’t know if you’ve been told yet, but there are certain doors on this ship that have to be kept closed at all times when not in use. You’ll know which doors they are because they’ll have one of these instead of a handle.’ He patted the wheel on the door. It was a yard across, and the spokes were several inches thick. ‘The ones in this corridor are the most important, because this space serves to isolate the bridge from explosions in the hangar, but there are other spaces just like this one protecting the engines and the hydrogen stores. If you leave any of these doors open, then expect the wrath of the First Officer to come down on you like a ton of bricks.’

  Owen raised an eyebrow. ‘The First Officer? Not the Captain?’

  Simkin smiled pleasantly. ‘If the Captain ever has to step in and deal with a matter of discipline personally, sir, then you’d better know how to swim.’

  The young man turned the wheel with some difficulty and swung the door open, revealing that it was almost a foot thick.

  The noise of heavy machinery hit them immediately, along with the smell of grease and hot metal, and they stepped through into the hive of activity that was the hangar.

  Despite Simkin’s protestations and calls for them to stay together and that it was dangerous, every single one of the A and B flight pilots immediately rushed to their aircraft to make sure that it was being taken care of; even though they knew that the naval mechanics were perfectly capable, they were universally relieved to find their own fitters had taken over.

  Dragonfly was sitting closest to them, just in front of the depression in the deck that the hydraulic lift went into when it was down. Wasp, Sable, Raptor and Hummingbird were lined up behind her. They were airscrew to rudder, because the hangar was only just wide enough to accommodate a single aircraft. Beyond them, B flight’s aircraft were still in the process of being dismantled, but Dove and Jaguar were already pushed against the far wall along with the crates holding Dreadnought, Vulture and Bloodhound and the three Harridans of the instructors.

  The huge space was essentially just the area immediately under the solid slab of metal that comprised the flight deck. It was extremely draughty because, while bulkheads lined both sides and thick columns held up the ceiling, there were large holes open in the sides of the ship, through which the shorelines could be seen. It looked like bulkheads could be slid into place over the openings when necessary, though.

  Gwen found Sergeant Jenkins supervising the rewinding and cleaning of Wasp. His forehead under his grey hair was even more creased than usual as he watched the men and women under his command.

  ‘What’s the matter, Sergeant?’

  ‘It’s all this bloody salt and damp, it’s going to play havoc with her, ma’am.’

  Gwen chuckled as she eyed the man rubbing an already spotless pink wing with a chamois leather cloth. ‘We’ve been at sea for all of five minutes, I’m not sure she’s rusty yet.’

  Jenkins grumbled. ‘Has a way of sneaking up on you, does rust. Gotta keep ahead of it.’

  ‘Well ahead, apparently.’ Something occurred to her and she frowned. ‘Do you have any idea what the cold in Muscovy will do to her? If we’re supposed to keep flying until conditions become too bad for the Prussians to invade, then it’s going to get pr
etty bad.’

  The fitter shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

  Gwen looked at Wasp, assessing her. ‘Well, I think that our main problems are going to be with moving parts and possibly ice on the wings.’

  ‘The guns too, ma’am; they already get a bit dodgy with an English winter, but Murmansk is within the Arctic Circle - I’d hate to think what would happen to them up there.’

  Gwen nodded thoughtfully. ‘I suppose Wendy might know something about that and Mac must have dealt with snow and ice in Scotland, I’ll have to ask them, and I’ll see if Abby can get someone to give everyone a briefing.’

  ‘That would be helpful, ma’am, but don’t worry; we’ll keep you flying, no matter the conditions.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’

  Gwen smiled, then wandered away, leaving him to his work. She briefly admired Sable and Raptor as she went past, noting the proud looks that Bruce and Monty were giving their machines, and found Scarlet gazing out of the hole in the bulkhead next to Hummingbird, staring at a flock of sheep on the land going by only a few hundred yards away, her flaming red hair streaming sideways in the wind.

  Gwen leaned against the railing next to her. ‘Thinking of home? Or are you going to swim for it while you still can?’

  ‘What? Oh, no; I can’t swim.’ The Irishwoman turned away from the sea and looked up at Gwen. ‘Besides, I couldn’t leave Hummingbird behind, I’d miss her too much.’

  ‘Just Hummingbird? Nothing else?’

  Scarlet grinned. ‘What, like junior officers who keep me awake at night? Nah. Wouldn’t miss them one bit.’

  They looked up at a whistle that filled the hangar, reverberating from the metal walls and saw Abby standing with Simkin by Sable, taking her fingers out of her mouth and waving for everyone to go to her.

  Gwen waited while Scarlet gave Hummingbird a loving caress, then they walked over, collecting a dejected-looking Kitty on the way.

  ‘And what’s wrong with you?’ Instead of showing sympathy, Scarlet just tutted.