He turned that information over in his mind for a moment. Then he muttered, ‘An’ you got yourself into trouble. Wasn’t anything to do with what you said to that Jerry, was it?’
I said, ‘No.’ Perhaps I denied it a little too quickly, for I sensed a sudden atmosphere of suspicion. I realised that I was not the only one who had been thinking over the fact that someone had attempted to get details of the ground defences of the aerodrome to the enemy. I sensed hostility. Jaded nerves did not make for clear thinking, and a newcomer is never easily absorbed into a community of men who have been working together for a long time. I felt the loneliness of my position acutely. If I was not careful I should be in difficulties with my own detachment as well as with the authorities,
‘Ever met the fellow before?’ It was Chetwood who asked the question.
Perhaps I read suspicion where none was intended. But as soon as I said, ‘Which fellow?’ I knew I had attempted to be too off-hand.
The Jerry pilot, of course.’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Why did he talk so freely?’ asked Chetwood. And Fuller said, ‘Are you sure he told you nothing else?’ I hesitated. I felt at bay. Kan, with his easy manner, would have turned the questions with a wisecrack. But I was more accustomed to writing than to conversation — it tends to make you slow in repartee. Micky followed up the other questions by asking, ‘Sure you told him nothing else?’
I felt bewildered. And then quite suddenly the conversation was turned from me by Kan saying, ‘Funny that Westley should have asked for special leave on Friday.’
‘What for?’ asked Micky.
‘Oh, it’s his uncle’s funeral or something.’
‘His uncle’s funeral!’ Micky snorted. ‘Just because his father’s an orderman in the City he gets given leave. If me muvver ‘ad died they wouldn’t give me leave. I tell you, that sort of thing wouldn’t happen in the real army.’
‘Well, has he been granted leave?’ asked Chetwood.
‘Yes, he’s got twelve hours.’
‘That should keep him out of danger on the fateful day. It does seem a bit clever, doesn’t it?’
‘I bet it was him that gave that information to the enemy.’
‘You shouldn’t make statements like that unless you know them to be true, Micky,’ Langdon cut in. His voice was patient but quite final.
‘Well, you must admit it’s a bit of a coincidence.’ said Chetwood.
‘Coincidences do happen,’ said Langdon. ‘If you want to discuss the matter, do it in front of him so that he can answer your charges.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t making no charge,’ muttered Micky. And then added defiantly, ‘A bloke’s got a right to ‘is suspicions, though, ain’t ‘e?’
I wondered where Vayle would be on Friday. And whilst my mind was occupied with this the conversation drifted to the arrival of the new squadron. They had come in that afternoon. They replaced 62A squadron, who had gone for a rest. Everyone had been sorry to see 62A go. They had put up a grand show. They had been a month at Thorby — and a month at a front-line fighter station at that time was a long while. In that month they had shot down more than seventy enemy ‘planes. But they had had a bad time, and if anyone deserved a rest, they did. The relieving squadron was 85B. Like its predecessor, it was equipped with Hurricanes. But we knew nothing about them. Langdon, however, who had been in the sergeants’ mess that evening, said that they had had a good deal of experience in France and had been taking a well-earned rest up in Scotland. ‘The squadron-leader is apparently one of our crack fighter pilots,’ said Langdon. ‘D.S.O. and bar and nineteen ‘planes to his credit. Crazy devil and always sings when he goes into a fight. Funny thing, his name is Nightingale.’
It was an unusual name and took me straight back to my schooldays. ‘Do you know his Christian name?’ I asked.
‘No. Why? Do you know him?’
‘I don’t know. We had a John Nightingale at school. He was crazy enough. His most spectacular feat was to put two — pieces of crockery, I think they were called — on top of the Naafi marquee at Tidworth Pennings on his last camp. I just wondered whether it was the same fellow. It’s rather an uncommon name, and he took one of those short-term commissions in the R.A.F. when he left school.’
‘What sort of a show did the squadron put up in France, do you know?’ asked Kan.
‘Pretty good, I gather,’ replied Langdon. ‘Anyway, they have a high opinion of themselves.’
‘Well, I hope they’re not over-estimating themselves — for their sakes as well as our own,’ said Chetwood. ‘I heard of a relieving squadron over at Mitchet who thought they were pretty good. They had come down from Scotland too. But they hadn’t any experience of dog-fighting their way through big formations. They acted mighty big in the mess their first night. And the next morning they went up and flew straight into a hundred and fifty Messerschmitts over Folkestone. They lost nearly half the squadron without bringing down a single Jerry. I don’t think they did much crowing after that.’
Micky held a bottle of beer out to me. I don’t think he was consciously trying to be friendly. It was just that his mood of suspicion had passed. The rest of stand-to passed pleasantly. Few ‘planes came over. We were relieved at ten and went straight to bed. It was already clouding over.
I was woken up to be told that the ‘All Clear’ had gone about a quarter of an hour ago. The hut was full of the soft stir of men breathing. It was five to one. I was the first guard of our detachment. I scrambled into my clothes and went out to the pit. It was still cloudy, but the moon had risen and the night was full of an opaque light.
‘Anything interesting happened?’ I asked Helson, who had been left on guard by the other detachment.
‘Nothing while the alarm was on,’ he replied. “They were coming over in an endless stream and several flares were dropped away to the north. Can’t think why they suddenly dried up. Harrison told me something rather exciting, though. He’s just come off Gun Ops. The squadron leader of 85B has taken a Hurricane up to intercept. Apparently he got annoyed at hearing them coming over without any attempt being made to stop them, so he asked the C.O. if he could take a ‘plane up. But the C.O. wouldn’t allow the flare-path to be put on for him. So he said that wouldn’t stop him, all he wanted was one landing light at the far end of the runway. But even this wasn’t allowed, so he said lights or no lights, he was going up. He went out from the dispersal point here. We saw him take off and wondered what he was up to. It was a crazy thing to do. It was as black as pitch at the time. But he got up all right.’
‘Did you see him at all?’ I asked.
‘No, I tell you, it was like pitch. There was a bit of a mist over the field. Well, that’s all the news. Enjoy your guard.’
He handed me the rifle and torch and left me to my thoughts. They were pretty chaotic, for I was dopey with sleep. My guard passed slowly, as it always does when you are sleepy, but daren’t go to sleep. It seemed unnaturally quiet. Occasionally I heard the movements of one of the guards patrolling the barbed-wire on the slope below our hut. Otherwise there was not a sound.
It was twenty to two — I had just looked at my watch — when I heard the sound of a ‘plane. It grew rapidly louder. It was very low and travelling fast. The ‘phone bell rang. I picked up the receiver. My heart was in my mouth. I expected a plot and I knew it would be on top of us before I could get the gun manned. Leisurely, Gun Ops. went the round of the sites. Then the voice at the other end said, ‘One Hurricane coming in to land.’ At the same moment the flare-path went on, a blinding swathe of light along the runway facing into the wind.
Then the plane appeared through the cloud with its navigation lights on. It came diving down at high speed straight for the gun. At not more than two hundred feet it flattened out. It passed right over my head and banked slightly on to the flare-path. The sound of it passing through the air rose to a scream. I could see the flame of the exhausts each side of the nose. And then it was lit up by the light of the flare-path and it began to roll over. It seemed very leisurely and easy. The ‘plane went right over in a superb victory roll, scarcely losing any height. It was a mad, lovely piece of flying. For an instant it shone silver as it rolled and then the night beyond the flare-path had swallowed it.