Eileen warmed up quickly, and received a huge reaction from the entire mess as she finished the song. Buoyed by the long-forgotten rush she always felt when receiving applause from an ecstatic crowd, she was absolutely glowing by the time she’d launched into five more of the band’s standards that included two Gershwin tunes and an Irving Berlin number, seamlessly mixing bright and lively compositions with strong, powerful torch songs. The applause had become outright cheers and whistles by the time she had finished the set, and she took a moment to again talk to the band, this time taking some sheet music from her own folder and passing it around.
“You’ve all been very kind tonight,” she said humbly, returning to the mike once more and trying to remain calm as the applause finally died down. “We’ve done some of the band’s favourites for you…” She cast a glance at the rest of her Hindsight colleagues, seated close to the stage and applauding as strongly as the rest. “…And if you’ll do me the honour of listening just a little longer, I’d like to do one of my favourites.” Clapping and whistles once more rose up in encouragement, again forcing her to raise a hand to bring the volume down. “This is a song from where I come from,” Eileen continued, and Thorne and the other Hindsight officers instinctively knew she really meant ‘when’. “I hope you all like it… it was a favourite of a good friend of mine.” She paused as she turned for just a moment to cast an emotional glance at Max Thorne, and he could clearly see the faint hint of tears welling in her eyes. “The song’s called ‘Imagine’… this song is for Nick Alpert…”
There was no way Lyle Walters couldn’t have known the song on the sheet music she’d handed around, and he was right on time and tempo as she counted him in on the opening chords… chords as unmistakeable to each member of Hindsight as the sound of their own names, or their mother’s voices. Simple and unforgettable, those first bars sent a distinct chill through every person of the Hindsight Group. To the others who didn’t recognise the music — men born in a time when that song hadn’t even been written, nor would be for another thirty years — the sound of those deep, rich chords was no less captivating.
John Lennon’s powerful lyrics fell over the crowd like a spell, Eileen’s strong, alto voice clear and crisp as she worked through the first verse. Lloyd and Thorne coached the rest of the band with when to come in, and the bass and drums joined at the end of that first verse, joining the melody with a basic rhythm that somehow worked perfectly.
Thorne caught sight of Eileen’s face once more as she turned to one side of the audience, and as she started the third verse, he could clearly see the tears streaming down her cheeks. John Lennon and the Beatles had been Nick Alpert’s one great musical passion, and among the prized possessions he’d brought with him from the future had been the entire collection of the music of Lennon and McCartney. None of those who’d known the man could’ve imagined a better tribute to Nick's memory than the signature song of a slain musical genius whose life had also been cut prematurely short.
Although still crying as the song came to an end, she was also smiling as the old feelings of joy for the music and lyrics of her own life and childhood flooded through her. There was the sensation of weight lifting from Eileen’s shoulders, and Thorne and the others could all see that radiance shine around her — a radiance that eclipsed mere physical beauty. Lloyd and Walters played the last few chords to a close, and a stunned silence reigned for a moment over the room full of military men. Still nervous, but now also exhilarated, she could see how completely she’d captured the audience, and as always that feeling was better than any drug. Cheers and wild applause erupted as she sheepishly gave a single bow and stepped back from the microphone once more, collecting her music and returning it to the folder before leaving the stage and heading for the relative safety of her table. It was only as she sat down that she realised Thorne had been right behind her, and was again sitting at her side.
“There y’are,” he beamed, as pleased for her as he was with the reasonable performance he’d also managed. “I knew you’d be a big hit!”
“Don’t think for a minute that all that applause has gotten you off the hook, mister!” She laughed loudly, the unconvincing threat more for show than anything else. “I’m far from finished with you!” But Thorne caught the look in her eyes as she spoke, and he knew he was a long way from being in any trouble.
“A toast, gentlemen…!” Trumbull burst out, raising his glass of beer as they all turned their eyes in his direction. “This is the last drink we’re ever likely to have here, and I think some kind of toast is definitely in order.”
“Why not, indeed,” Thorne nodded, although he cast a lightning-quick, almost guilty glance at Eileen before assuming a serious expression and accepting an offered glass of whisky. He then realised that everyone at the table was looking to him expectantly to conduct the toast itself. “Oh… okay then, let’s see…” He continued, thinking deeply, and the appropriate subjects came easily as he raised his glass.
“To Brigadier Nicholas Thomas Alpert… his intelligence, presence and friendship will be too greatly missed to ever replace…” To which there were nods of agreement all round. “…To Oberstleutnant Carl Werner Ritter… may luck stay with him on his mission to save us all…” Nods again, and he smiled brightly as he continued. “…To Alec Trumbull… may he one day come to terms with our ‘new-fangled’ technology and learn to fly that bloody jet properly…” They all laughed softly at that, Trumbull included. “…And to Richard Kransky, and those others who remain here to fight on… however long that may be…”
“Aye…!” Donelson added softly as Thorne took a short breath.
“Most of all,” he continued with renewed solemnity, rising to his feet as he spoke and projecting his words to the whole mess, gaining everyone’s attention as he raised his glass high. “Here’s to those who’ve already given their lives for their country and for freedom. Here’s to Sir John Tovey… to the Home Fleet… and to Henry Harwood, the men of the Nelson, and all the others! Like them, may we all do our duty, regardless of the cost…!” He raised his glass higher still with a final cry of: “To victory…!”
“To victory…!” The depth and volume of that returned toast included the voices of every person in the room, and was accompanied by the sound of chairs moving back in unison as all present stood as one, holding their own glasses aloft as the toast was made.
‘S-day’ + 1
Thursday,
September 12, 1940
The Hindsight Unit stayed in billets at HMS Proserpine that night, happy for the opportunity for one last good sleep in comfortable beds. They were awoken before dawn that next morning, and boarded the destroyer HMS Esk as a group soon after. They were all provided with breakfast and shower facilities during their return to Eday, and all were in relatively good spirits as they made the final journey back to the Alternate airstrip in the rear of several Bedford trucks. Thorne, who’d landed the F-35E at Lyness the night before, had flown the aircraft back to Alternate directly, using the extra time following his arrival to allow two large, external fuel tanks to be fitted beneath the wings, along with the reattachment of the 25mm gun pod and the loading of a single pair of AIM-9X Sidewinder missiles. He was waiting at the southern end of the runway as the trucks arrived with the rest of his unit.