JET LAG! (16 page)

              The personnel of Purple were divided into fours and billeted in the Officers Mess. It was the most convenient building and had space for the entire detachment, but had been empty for some time. An army of volunteers were drafted in to clean the place up and fit it out with beds, seating, cupboards etc. A staff for the mess, taken from stations all over East Anglia, was recruited – all military – and they were told that they couldn’t leave the station until the end of September. By 8pm that evening, a miracle of organisation had occurred. All was ready for Purple to move in – and as they did so, a team of suppliers and tailors went from room to room taking measurements for spare clothing. A representative from the NAAFI turned up with toiletries for shaving and washing, and several psychiatrists were posted in to help with any mental health problems induced by the journey from 1992 – even though they had no concept of time travel! A service of remembrance for their four dead comrades was arranged for 10am the next morning. Todd also assembled his senior officers and initiated the infrastructure for a standard RAF Squadron. They gave it the name Purple to avoid confusion. Todd was the squadron commander, his father the Station Commander – so to speak – and each of the aircraft types had an officer in the chain of command. Todd reasoned that one tight-knit unit would be better than five or six groups pulling in different directions.

              Another important job was to counsel the airmen. They would all be in a state of shock and disorientation, so the next morning from 1100, officers were instructed to interview every man under their direct command to ensure that they were: ‘
OK
.’ And by ‘OK’ Todd meant not ‘do-lally’ as a result of the journey across the time-space continuum. There were bound to be some psychological and emotional casualties, and Todd wanted to identify them as soon as possible.  The ‘trick-cyclists’ could assist with this crucial task.

As for Todd and his father, they needed to sit down and draw up a plan of action. There were a thousand things to consider and some needed to be done as quickly as possible.  Firstly, they must carry out a complete stock check of equipment they had brought from 1992. So the AVM chaired a meeting with Todd, an officer from each aircraft type, an engineer, an Operations officer and an air traffic controller. Also present were similar representatives from the 1940 population.

Clearly, the two teams would need to work together very closely if this plan was going to work – or even have a chance of working.

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2 July 1940

              A large team sat round the conference table in the Station Commander’s outer-office. The Group Captain from Marham had been drafted in to command Middle Fleckney for the duration. It made common sense since he was the man who initiated first contact with Purple. Group Captain Wilfred Johnson was a round-faced, cheerful sort of chap in his mid-thirties. A typical RAF officer as portrayed in B-movies from the nineteen fifties - but he was nobody’s fool and turned out to be the lynchpin of the entire operation. He had a job to do and got on with it. No messing, no faffing and no wasted time. However, his jovial front and easy smile got him through most sticky situations, and airmen who knew him would happily follow him to hell and back. He was supported by all of the Marham staff who had witnessed the arrival of Purple the day before, so there was no need to exert any pressure – they all volunteered rather than be incarcerated!

              He knew exactly what was required and set about taking stock of  the assets presented by the Purple aircraft formation, and quickly identifying those extras that would be required by Purple to complete this very special task.

He managed this initial meeting with some flair.

              ‘Gentlemen, for those who do not know me, I am Wilf Johnson. A regular with twelve years’ experience. Done my bit in the Middle and Far East – so I have some experience of what I’m goin’ to be asking you to do. Firstly, I believe that it's important that we all know one other, and then take the first steps on the road to trustin’ each other. So, I’m going to ask each person in turn to give a short and concise pen picture of themselves, so we have an idea of what we all do and may be responsible for. I’ll kick off by statin’ that the Prime Minister has given me sole executive control over operations from this station.

‘SOLE EXECUTIVE CONTROL,’ was repeated for emphasis.

That means that all decisions on Operations or policy go through me. However, I am not remotely like our ‘friends’ in Germany, so I will discuss most matters with AVM Morrissey before they are implemented. I cannot emphasise enough the importance and secrecy of our work. Gerry must not learn of it at any cost.’

His audience round the table were at once impressed and reassured by his easy style.

              ‘Right, now that I’ve put the fear of God into you, lets kick off with the AVM here.’

              Each member of both teams at this level stood up in turn and gave a short pen picture of their careers to date. The 1940’s team sat open mouthed every time a 1992 man or women passed on their details. Clearly, the 1940’s crowd had some catching up to do – the 1992 technology was beyond their comprehension – and so both sides had a lot to learn.

              This executive committee had to work together if anything was to be achieved. The 1940 team needed the firepower and the 1992 team desperately wanted to get home on the eighth of September. One of the hardest things to avoid was letting the 1940 team know the outcome of  the war – or indeed any little snippet from the future. Revelation of future events could be disastrous and might corrupt the timeline irreparably. Therefore, it was agreed that the 1940 team would not ask, and the 1992 team would not proffer information. Hopefully, this compromise would work. It must!

              The main players would no doubt become good friends. The AVM and the Station Commander; Todd and OC Operations (1940) -  Wing Commander Rupert Browning; ATC Flying Officer Gloria King and SATCO 1940 – Squadron Leader Don Cornell; Engineering Squadron Leader Roy Byrd and OC Eng 1940 – Wing Commander Sid Laine; Admin Officer  Patsy Jackson and OC Admin 1940 – Wing Commander George Carpenter.

Also on the committee were the senior members from each aircraft type, Wing Commander Barclay Hunt (ADV); Squadron Leader Al MacDonald (Recce); Squadron Leader Al Norman (Canberra); Squadron Leader Andy Faithfull (VC10 Tanker) and Squadron Leader Julie Grant (C-130). The 1940’s team also included Senior Medical Officer, Squadron Officer Hazel Donovan; OC Security, Flt Lt Harold Ross and Wing Commander Harry Humphries who would liaise directly with HQ 11 Group - (Group Captain John Stead).

              This committee of eighteen seemed large but all interested parties must be kept fully informed. Clearly, the PM, Air Chief Marshal Dowding, AVM Park and AVM Leigh-Mallory were ex-officio members as was one of the psychiatrists. As was normal, members of this executive council would pass on information and flying tasks via the normal chain of command. All strategic planning would be done by this council which would meet twice daily – at 0700 and 1900 hours.

Their first task was to assess capability and the logistic situation.

              It was established that by some sort of miracle, all remaining fourteen aircraft were serviceable. Flt Lt Steve Worthington, who had travelled on the C-130, would replace the deceased Anton Fischer as pilot on Crew four of the Tornado bombers. He was a young Australian on exchange and was very happy to play his part. The only other potential problem was Major Klaus Jung  - a Dutch exchange pilot. However, like Worthington, he ached for the chance to have a go at the Germans – many of his ancestors had suffered terribly under the Nazi jackboot!

              Engineers were not a problem either. As cleverly pre-planned by AVM Morrissey, the C-130 had been carrying enough engineers for each aircraft type to survive in Italy for several days. Therefore the thirty-four men and women would be amalgamated into one flight of engineers, commanded by Squadron Leader Roy Byrd. All other personnel would be commanded by Todd – including a bemused Met Man – Jim Charles – who was more than a little bit puzzled by Churchill’s explanation of events – some critical issues concerning timeframes was not right. As a consequence, he had decided to request an interview with Todd to discuss certain issues of historical fact – when the situation had settled down a tad.

              Now that the personnel problems were being addressed; what about equipment and more importantly – fuel? The VC10 had been full of aviation gasoline but this would not last for eight weeks of operations - and they needed a certain amount for the last flight home. Although it carried almost seventy thousand kilograms of fuel in its eight tanks, this would only allow for approximately fifteen Tornado sorties. Besides that, the C-130 used different fuel. However, the council could not really see a need for the C-130 or the VC10 to actually fly again before September the eighth. It would unnecessarily expose them to enemy fire – so that was one problem easily solved.

Nevertheless, the jets would need some more fuel from somewhere – and this is where the PM could help. He revealed that the RAF had also been experimenting with jet propulsion – and the fuel being used may well be adapted for 1992 aircraft use. It was decided to set up a separate team to handle this task. Other oils and fluids were plentiful and Liquid Oxygen wasn’t a problem either. The C-130 also carried spare air to air missiles, bullets and bombs – and the 1940s team indicated that they could also ‘adapt’ their bombs to fit 1992 aircraft. All in all, it was a reasonably satisfactory situation and with lots of hard work and effort it may be possible to combat the German threat. 

              Once logistics and personnel had been addressed it was now time to think about security and tactics. RAF Middle Fleckney was six miles south-east of RAF Marham. Marham was a minor base with only reconnaissance missions and the odd Lysander flying from its basic strip. There was only a skeleton human presence – reduced even further by the secondment of many of their key personnel to Middle Fleckney. Furthermore the runway at Middle Fleckney was almost parallel to the main runway at Marham, so the 1992 aircraft need never overfly it. Consequently, RAF Marham was not a serious security problem and could be left to carry on its own basic task. The only minor change to Operations would be the introduction of a strict arrival and departure procedure which would keep prying eyes away from activity at Middle Fleckney.

However, the departure route from Middle Fleckney would have to be considered very carefully. Although in 1940 the North Norfolk area was sparsely populated, the 1992 aircraft were noisy and conspicuous. It wouldn’t take long for complaints to start rolling in. Middle Fleckney must not draw unwanted attention to itself. It had been selected for its isolated location in the early thirties when Britain was experimenting with airships. Consequently it had a twelve mile buffer around it where nobody lived. This area was now patrolled by a special force of Military Policemen, determined to keep prowlers out. Their families were told that the policemen had been sent to Scotland for three months on special training. The policemen were told that they were protecting an important project vital to the war effort. Which, of course, they were.

The only inhabitant within the twelve mile limit was a farmer-come-gamekeeper named Willie Hutch. He lived on his farm about eight miles from the field at Middle Fleckney and was employed by the War Ministry to ensure that no-one ventured down the road on which his farm was located. It was the only road into Middle Fleckney and was barred by a large wooden gate. Burly policemen now also guarded the area. It was decided to leave Willie and his family where they were as moving them may have caused unwanted publicity.

Another bonus was that the westerly runway was 6589 feet long and would be suitable for all 1992 aircraft. It's flight path out extended some sixteen miles without coming within five miles of a village or farm. This meant that aircraft could take off in the knowledge that as long as they employed a steep rate of climb they stood little chance of being detected. They would also complete steep glideslope approaches from the same direction – exposing themselves as little as possible. The wind direction may be a problem but as it was high summer the chances of a strong breeze were slight. This was reinforced by Jim Charles – the 1992 Met Man – who confirmed that the south of England was due for a hot summer. However, as he recalled, most of July was wet and foggy – so perhaps the weather may provide some valuable cover for the early 1992 sorties.

Unfortunately the fair weather presented its own problems. Low cloud would have been perfect cover for the 1992 aircraft and their high-tech in-built radar systems. It had been suggested that flight operations be restricted to night only – but that was rejected as most German attacks came during the day. Recce and bombing flights would get airborne only at night – but the fighters would probably have to fly combat missions during the hours of daylight. However, the situation would have to be reviewed as the fighting progressed.

So by the end of day two, a lot of good work had been completed. Most 1992 personnel had come to temporary terms with their predicament and looked forward to the eighth of September when they would attempt the jump home. The executive council had made a skeleton plan of battle action and hoped to put it into operation as soon as possible. The engineers asked for one more day to prep the aircraft and it was decided to launch a fighter patrol the day after tomorrow – the fourth of July 1940.

***

              Although Todd was slowing beginning to accept his temporary fate, he couldn’t help thinking about the furore probably going on back in 1992.

              Sure enough, when fifteen aircraft, all squawking their IFF to assist radar to monitor their position, suddenly and inexplicably just disappeared, the shit hit the fan. Extensive searches were conducted lasting several weeks. The Royal Navy conducted wide ranging deep water sweeps but found precisely nothing.

The Press had a field day. Theories ranging from mass defection -to abduction by aliens a la Bermuda Triangle - to a government cover up filled the newspapers for many months, but eventually all members of Purple Formation were declared lost. Their families were subject to administrative action and insurance policies were activated – but only after the government intervened.

A Service of Remembrance was organised and one of the greatest mysteries of modern times spawned several books and novels brimming with speculation.

However, Todd and his party were mercifully blissfully unaware of all the grief and heartache suffered by their families – although AVM Sir Henry Morrissey had a pretty good idea of what might be happening.

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