Ogilvie paused, one foot on the running-board. ‘Well, what is it?’ he demanded in his sharp staccato voice.
He was a man of small stature, inclined to stoutness, with a round, uninteresting face and horn-rimmed glasses. He lacked a natural command of men. And in place of it he had built an air of aloofness about himself. This did not make him popular. I think he had been in the insurance business before the war. At any rate he was not an O.C.T.U. product, but had obtained his commission in the Territorials. It was perhaps unfortunate that he was in command of a unit in which most of the senior N.C.O.s were socially his superiors. Inevitably, it resulted in his standing on his dignity to an extent that was unnatural. His staccato manner, which was not, I am sure, natural to him, was the noticeable result.
I gave him an account of my conversation with the German. But when I came to my views on the reliability of the information, he cut me short. ‘Quite. I understand. I’ll pass on your information to the proper authorities. Goodnight, Sergeant-major.’ And with that he climbed into the car and left us.
I watched the car disappear with a feeling that the responsibility of bringing the conversation to the notice of men who would know how to assess its value was still time. The proper authorities to whom Ogilvie referred were probably the C.O. Thorby or the Intelligence officer attached to the station. In due course a report on the matter would reach the Air Ministry. But, in all probability, it would be part of the routine reports and would be filed away without even being brought to the notice of those higher officials who were best able to judge its importance. On the other hand, I knew the assistant director if Air Ministry Press Section, and I felt that I ought to a rite to him giving him the details of the conversation.
I mentioned this to Trevors. But he said, ‘For God’s sake don’t do that. You’ll only get yourself into trouble. You’re in the Army now, and in the Army there are formalities to be considered. Any report has to pass through our Officer and thence via Battery and Regiment to Brigade. You can’t go direct to the fountain head.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said. ‘But if there is anything in this idea of a plan it is vitally important.’
‘If there is anything in it, then no doubt Intelligence know all about it,’ he replied. ‘In any case, the responsibility is no longer yours.’
But I didn’t feel that way. As a journalist I had seen too much of the delays of red tape not to feel some misgivings as to what would happen to my information in its passage through the official channels. My main concern, as I lay awake in bed that morning, was to decide whether or not the German pilot had really known something and let it slip in the heat of the moment. But the more I thought about it, the more uncertain I was. And if I was uncertain, I knew that whoever was responsible for reporting the matter to the Air Ministry would be disinclined to make much of it. Everything depended on the result of the examination of the prisoner.
In this knowledge I fell asleep, dead tired. We were on again at four, a very tired detachment. The events of the night seemed like a dream. But at the north end of the ‘drome the burnt-out wreck of the ‘plane stood as a monument to our achievement. We were relieved at seven, but instead of going to the mess for breakfast most of us went straight back to bed. The next thing I remember is being wakened by the sound of engines revving in the dispersal point near our hut. The din was terrific and the vibration made my bed shake.
I heard somebody say, ‘Sounds as though there’s a flap coming.’ I did not open my eyes. But I had scarcely turned over when the Tannoy broke in on my sleep. ‘Attention, please! Attention, please! Tiger Squadron scramble! Tiger Squadron scramble! Scramble! Scramble! Off.’
‘All right, we’ll come quietly,’ I heard Chetwood say. ‘No peace for the wicked.’ His bed creaked as he got up.
I waited, unwilling to wake up, yet my nerves fully awake. The engines roared as the ‘planes left the dispersal point for the runway. I waited, dreading the inevitable patter of feet that would mean leaving the comfort of my bed. It came almost immediately — the sound of running feet, the bursting open of the door and the cry of Take post!’
My limbs reacted automatically. But my eyes were still tight shut as I reached blindly for my battle blouse. ‘What’s the plot?’ I heard someone ask. Twenty hostile southeast, flying north-west at twenty-five thousand feet,’ was the reply.
I opened my eyes as I felt under my bed for my canvas shoes. Sunlight was streaming into the darkened hut through cracks in the blackout curtains. Outside I found a clear blue sky and a haze over the ground. It was already beginning to get warm, for the air was very still. As I reached the pit the last flight was just taking off. The leading flight of three was already disappearing into the mist, flying southeast and climbing steeply.
‘Attention, please! Attention, please! Preliminary air-raid warning! Preliminary air-raid warning!’
‘A bit much, don’t you think,’ said Kan. ‘I mean, it’s so frightfully early in the morning for this sort of thing.’
‘Funny how he always comes at meal-times,’ said Helson. ‘He missed breakfast yesterday, but he was over for lunch and tea.’
‘All part of the war of nerves,’ said Langdon.
‘What’s that up there?’ Micky’s outstretched arm was pointing high up to the east. A ‘plane glinted in the sun for a second. Langdon raised his glasses.
But it was only our own Hurricane squadron circling. We saw no sign of the enemy and eventually Gun Ops. reported that the raid had been dispersed. The Tannoy gave the ‘All Clear,’ but it was some little time before we were allowed to stand down. When we were, it was past nine and our detachment was on duty.
I should explain that throughout the day we were at that time working in two-hour shifts — an exception being the first period, which was of three hours. The idea of this constant manning was, of course, to guard against surprise attack. With twelve men on the site and no leave, it was possible to have six in each detachment, which was ample for manning. During the day, however, those off duty had to man as soon as a ‘Take Post’ was given. But at night we only manned on an alarm. Since I had been on the site, night alarms had been fairly constant. Hence the new arrangement whereby the duty detachment only manned on a night alarm unless there was a preliminary air-raid warning, or the detachment commander thought it necessary.
The other detachment went off to breakfast. Having had none ourselves, several of us produced chocolate. For myself, I was not hungry. The sleep I had had, which, though it was only three and a half hours, was the longest since I had been on the site, seemed only to have made me more tired. Moreover, my mind was once again occupied with the memory of my conversation with the German pilot in the early hours of the morning.
In the pleasant warmth of the sun his words seemed much less important. Yet I suddenly remembered what Trevors had told us in the Naafi. Was there some link between the attempt to secure a plan of the ground defences of the station and the idea that the Germans had a plan for immobilising all our fighter ‘dromes? It all seemed very melodramatic. But I remembered stories of the last war. War was melodramatic. And the German was fond of melodrama. The whole history of the Nazi rise to power was the crudest melodrama. We were not used to it in England. But on the Continent melodrama had become commonplace.
The ‘phone rang. Langdon answered it. As soon as he had replaced the receiver, he turned to me. ‘You’re to report to the orderly room immediately. Mr Ogilvie wants to see you.’ It took me back to my schooldays — The headmaster wants to see you in his study.’
The orderly room — our troop headquarters, as Mr Ogilvie liked it to be called — was at the south side of the landing field, a part of the station headquarters block. When I got there, I asked Andrew Mason, the office clerk, what Ogilvie wanted to see me about. He said he did not know, but added that an R.A.F. officer had been in just before he had been told to ‘phone for me.