A Flight of Golden Wings (6 page)

There were ships as far as the eye could see. Jack shielded his cigarette to light it, then drew in deeply and blew out the smoke, watching it being snatched away on the wind. It was only the middle of October, but out at sea the weather was cold. They had set sail from Halifax three days ago. The journey to Liverpool would take around sixteen days in all. Jack leant on the rail, his gaze sweeping the ocean. What a sight! He’d been told that there were more than sixty ships in the convoy, and he couldn’t help wondering how many would reach England. It would be a massacre if the U-boats found them.

His thoughts drifted back over the last few weeks. After arriving in Montreal he’d gone on to Ottowa to be checked out on Harvards, then to Toronto for twin-engine planes. It had been a busy time, but he’d got through it all easily, much to his relief. He’d made up his mind to go to England and would have been upset if they’d turned him down. He was
a good pilot, though, and his newly-acquired instructor’s licence had been helpful. He was glad he’d taken that six months ago. He’d never visited this beleaguered country before, but he’d always felt drawn towards it, and as soon as he’d heard about the struggle they were having, he wanted to help in any way he could. He knew a lot of people back home thought he was crazy, but that didn’t bother him.

He hadn’t managed to get home before they’d sailed because they had been on standby, waiting for the convoy to assemble. He was sorry about that, but perhaps it was for the best. The first parting had been hard enough, but this one would have been worse.

‘Did you manage to get any sleep?’

Jack turned as another American pilot joined him. They were the only two on this convoy, but others were waiting to come. ‘Not much, Don.’ He held out the packet of cigarettes. ‘How about you?’

Don took a cigarette and lit it. ‘Wide awake all night. Men were snoring all around me, but I kept waiting for a bloody torpedo to come through the bulkhead.’

‘I know what you mean. Wish we could have flown over.’

‘Yeah. Safer and more comfortable.’ Don leant on the rail next to Jack, scanning the ocean. ‘These merchant seamen are brave men. I’m on edge making one trip, but they go back and forth the whole time knowing that each journey might be their last.’

‘The fighter pilots in England know they could die at any time but, like the seamen, they keep fighting. And what about London with bombs raining down night after night? How are the people coping?’

‘I can’t imagine.’ Don rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘What do you think we’ll find when we get there? Providing we make it, of course.’

‘We’ll make it. There’s a couple of destroyers guarding us.’

Don gave his companion an incredulous look. ‘Ever the optimist, Jack. It’s a nasty thought that there might be U-boats gathering for the kill.’

‘Nah.’ Jack slapped Don on the back and grinned. ‘There’s a storm brewing, I’m told, and that will make attack difficult. We’ll get there. That poor bloody country needs all the help it can get. Now, let’s get some food. I’m starving.’

Don tossed his cigarette into the sea. ‘Well, in that case, we’d better eat before the storm hits. And you’re right: we’re both here because we can’t stand by and watch the Nazis gain even more power. They’ve got to be stopped, and Britain’s the prize they want now. That maniac is after world domination.’

‘He won’t get it.’ Jack spoke confidently. ‘He hasn’t been able to knock out the RAF, and without that he can’t invade.’

‘True.’ Don rubbed his hands together and smiled for the first time. ‘I can’t wait to get over there. It should be exciting. I wonder if we’ll get to fly Spitfires?’

‘Sure we will.’

The entire convoy had made it. Jack and Don watched the activity as they docked in Liverpool. It was early morning, but the place was buzzing with noise as the men shouted
instruction, smiles on their faces to see the ships arriving safely. No time was being wasted in securing the ships and getting them unloaded. There were others waiting to come in for unloading as soon as there was room.

‘My God!’ Don breathed out a breath of amazement. ‘They look pleased to see us, but I’ll bet they’re not as relieved as I am to see land again.’

Jack felt excitement race through him. They were here at last. ‘This is an island, don’t forget, and these ships are their life blood.’

Don nodded grimly. ‘And Hitler knows that.’

They fell silent as they drank in their first encounter with a nation at war. The sense of urgency was palpable, and they were both eager to get off the ship that had been their home for the last sixteen days.

‘They said someone would meet us,’ Don muttered, scanning the people on the dock for likely candidates. As the gangplank was lowered two men walked towards it. ‘There! That might be them, Jack.’

Before Jack could answer, an officer came up to them. ‘You can go ashore now, and good luck.’

They shook hands, and Jack said, ‘Thanks for getting us here safely.’

‘Our pleasure. The U-boats didn’t find us this time.’

Don looked as if he couldn’t quite believe the officer’s casual tone. ‘How could they possibly miss such a huge convoy?’

‘Oh, it happens sometimes – not often – but the ocean is a large place. Now, I believe your escort has arrived.’

As the officer walked away, Jack and Don hoisted their
bags on to their shoulders and made their way off the ship. They stepped on to the dockside with relief, for neither of them had enjoyed the journey.

There was no doubt that the two men were waiting for them. They were wearing dark blue uniforms with the distinctive gold wings on their jackets. The Americans had been told about the infamous English reserve, but the polite, formal greeting still took them by surprise, especially as Jack was sure he’d met one of them before. He couldn’t place him at the moment, though.

After introductions were made, they were asked if they’d had a good journey. Neither American knew what to say, and they merely shrugged and said, ‘Yeah, sure.’

‘Good.’ The man who had introduced himself as Captain Johnson ushered them towards a car.

‘Where are we going?’ Don fell into step beside him.

‘London first, then on to Maidenhead.’

On reaching the car and stowing their bags in the trunk – or boot, as the English called it – Don got in the front with Captain Johnson, who was driving, and Jack sat in the back with the other man – Captain Simon Trent. He studied the man beside him carefully. Not only was the name familiar, but also the face. They had met before, but where? He frowned as a wide smile appeared on Simon’s face.

‘Placed me yet?’

After searching his memory, Jack clicked his fingers. ‘Berlin, 1936. We were there for an air display.’

‘That’s right. I recognised your name and volunteered to come and meet you.’

‘It’s great to see you.’ Jack was elated to find someone he already knew, albeit a very brief acquaintance.

There wasn’t time to talk, as they were soon pulling up outside a railway station.

Captain Johnson turned in his seat. ‘Let’s hope there are still trains running to London. They took another pasting last night. Better check, Simon, before I leave you.’

‘Right.’

Jack watched Simon until he went through the door, and then turned to Captain Johnson. ‘Why are we going to London? I thought we were to be stationed at a place called White Waltham.’

‘Oh, you are,’ the captain said briskly. ‘But that will have to be your first stop, and Simon will see if he can get transport from there for you. If not, it will have to be another train, I’m afraid. The timetable can be rather erratic.’

‘We’re in luck.’ Simon came back to the car and held open the door. ‘There’s a train expected in about half an hour.’

‘Good. I’ll leave you to look after our guests.’

Jack and Don exchanged amused glances at being referred to as guests, and as soon as they had their bags, the car sped off, obviously in a hurry.

The station was crowded, and it looked as if some people had been there for a long time. It was a sea of uniforms. Some were sitting on the platform, eyes closed, others were reading; some were in circles with playing cards in their hands as they gambled away the time, and their money. The new recruits followed Simon as he weaved his way towards a kiosk with the letters ‘WVS’ painted on it.

‘How many trains are they expecting?’ Don muttered, as they pushed through the throng.

Simon heard and looked back, giving an apologetic shrug. ‘Just one. It will be an uncomfortable journey, and we’ll probably have to stand all the way … Three strong teas,’ Simon said when they reached the kiosk.

‘Righty-ho.’ The woman peered at Simon’s uniform and frowned. ‘Why you got gold wings for?’

‘It’s the Air Transport Auxiliary.’

‘Ah, you’re a pilot then.’ She nodded approval and set about pouring the tea.  ‘You peckish? We’ve got some sandwiches.’

‘Lovely, thanks.’ Simon turned to Jack and Don. ‘Hungry?’

‘Starving,’ they answered in unison.

The WVS woman looked them over doubtfully. ‘You ain’t military.’

‘You can give them refreshments.’ Simon’s tone was amused. ‘They’re pilots as well, just arrived from America.’

‘What?’ An elderly face appeared from the back of the kiosk. ‘Don’t tell me they’ve come into the war and no one told me?’

‘I’m afraid not, ma’am.’ Jack beamed, thoroughly enjoying the encounter. ‘But some of us want to help.’

The woman let out a huge laugh. ‘Hark at that! I ain’t never been called ma’am before. Makes me feel like the bloody queen! You’re welcome, lads.’

The head disappeared, and the next minute all three men had steaming mugs of tea and chunky sandwiches. There wasn’t much filling in them, but Jack and Don were too hungry to bother about that. However, Don was
examining his mug with an expression of distaste on his face, and glanced up when he heard Simon chuckle.

‘Sorry, but we don’t have any coffee. You’ll get used to it. The British run on endless cups of tea.’

Jack took a cautious sip of the dark brown liquid and found it quite refreshing. ‘And you aren’t doing too badly on it, from what we’ve heard.’

Simon’s only reply was a brief nod as someone caught his attention. It was an RAF pilot with a string of coloured tapes under his wings.

Jack and Don stepped back slightly, not wanting to intrude on Simon’s conversation, and studied the young man with interest.

‘He’s only a kid,’ Don muttered under his breath to Jack.

‘Yeah, until you look into his eyes. He’s seen and done things we can only imagine.’

Don looked excited. ‘We’ve only been here a short time, but it’s already dawning on me what the people of this country are doing. Look around, Jack. Nearly everyone’s in a uniform of some kind.’

‘And if they’re not, then they’re working in factories or on the land.’

They had been so lost in thought that Simon’s voice startled them. The young pilot was now joking with the WVS woman as he took his tea and bun.

‘Hey, Peter!’ Simon called. ‘They never offered us one of those.’

The pilot winked. ‘You’re wearing the wrong coloured wings.’ He stopped briefly in front of Jack and Don. ‘Good of you to offer to help us. Just keep the Spits coming. We have a habit of breaking them.’

Don was grinning as the pilot wandered off, eating and drinking as he weaved his way through the crowd. ‘Gee, I just love the accent. Where’s he going?’

‘London, to let off a bit of steam.’ Simon drew in a quiet breath. ‘He was one of my pupils and is a damned good pilot. That’s why he’s still alive.’

‘Isn’t London a dangerous place to go and have fun?’ Don asked.

‘I don’t know what you’re expecting, but life goes on in spite of the bombing.’ Simon finished his tea and returned all their mugs to the kiosk. ‘There’s still plenty of dances or concerts going on. A few bombs won’t bother Peter and his friends too much.’

Jack thought back to the gloomy reports being broadcast in America, and pursed his lips. ‘You know, if you listen to some of the news in our country, then you’d get the impression that this country doesn’t stand a chance.’

‘And do you believe that?’ Simon asked.

‘We wouldn’t be here if we did.’

Simon nodded approval at the reply. ‘We’ve had, and still are having, a tough time, but the threat of invasion has receded for the time being. The Germans couldn’t break the RAF, and now Hitler has unleashed his fury against the civilians. He’s just making us bloody angry, and that is a big mistake on his part.’

At that moment there was the sound of a train approaching, and the station erupted into activity.

Simon urged them towards the front of the platform. ‘Push on anywhere, even if it looks full.’

‘All these people will never get on. It’s already full.’ Jack
was looking at a sea of people already on the train as it pulled to a halt.

‘Want to bet?’ Simon grabbed the nearest door and swung it open, dragging Jack and Don with him. ‘Good, it’s a corridor train. That will be the best place to stand.’

It was an experience for the two Americans, but they stuck to Simon, who was clearly used to travelling like this. Nobody seemed to mind as they pushed their way through to reach the corridor. It was standing room only, and when the train started to move, the platform was miraculously empty.

Jack shook his head in disbelief. ‘I’m glad I didn’t take you up on that bet, Simon. How long will we be in London?’

‘Depends. The man in charge wants to meet you, and he’ll explain about the work we’re doing. Then we’ll go to Maidenhead as soon as possible.’ Simon gave them an enquiring look. ‘Unless you want to do a bit of sightseeing, of course?’

‘I wouldn’t mind having a look round, see for myself just what’s really happening over here.’ Jack noticed that Don was nodding eagerly. He turned back to Simon. ‘That’s if we can spare the time, of course.’

‘No problem. You’re not expected to report until the day after next, so we’ll stay in London overnight.’

It wasn’t easy to conduct a conversation when they were all packed tightly into the train, but Jack was far too interested in the passing countryside to be aware of the discomfort of the journey. As they left the industrial areas and came to open country, he felt something tighten in his chest. After sixteen days of seeing only grey seas and grey
ships, the colour green almost hurt his eyes as they passed fields with sheep and cattle grazing. The tranquil scenes were hard to equate with a country fighting for its existence, and yet he only had to glance at the mass of uniforms around him for that fact to be abundantly clear.