1916 Angels over the Somme (British Ace Book 3) (34 page)

I took a swallow of water and ate a handful of the nuts I was saving. I needed something inside me. Finally I took the last length of rope and fashioned a sling to support my arm.  Once the rope took the weight then the pain diminished slightly.

I had time to take stock.  I saw that the wind was not as strong as it had been and the waves not as high.  The freak wave had been nature’s goodbye. I could still see nothing on the horizon but the sun above and my stopped watch told me that it was sometime in the morning. We were still heading north and there was nothing we could do about that now. I looked at the German map, my English one had been washed over too. By my reckoning they would find the dinghy with the two corpses somewhere off Norway; failing that it would be the North Pole.

I crawled down the boat and poured some water into Lumpy’s mouth.  It moistened it, that was all I could do. I put the stopper back in and made my way back to the stern.

I had done all that I could.  I lay against the tiller with my right arm.  I rested my broken arm on the top and I closed my eyes.  Soon I was asleep.

I had a dream that I was flying high and being pursued by five Albatros aeroplanes.  No matter which way I twisted and turned they stuck to me like glue and there were getting ever closer. Suddenly my Gunbus disappeared and I was falling down and down.  The earth changed to the sea and the sea became a black hole.  When I hit the sea I seemed to keep on falling.

I was woken by a sharp pain.  It felt as though someone had jammed a red hot needle into my broken arm. I lifted my head and shouted. I saw that it was almost dark but, straight ahead I saw a light and could smell the smoke as a ship bore down on us.

“Help! Help! Ware ship!” I was aware that the noise of the sea would drown out my words but I shouted anyway.

I waved my good arm despite the waves of pain it sent down my broken arm. The bow of the ship, which was a warship, appeared to be just a hundred yards from us.  I was certain that it would ram us and I was contemplating a watery grave when it suddenly veered to the side and slowed down.

A voice shouted down in German. Fate had really played a trick with us.  I had thought we had cheated the Germans but they had found us.

“I am sorry but we are English I don’t understand you.”

A couple of faces appeared above us and a cheery voice said, “Sorry about that, we thought you were the Hun. Killick, get a couple of hands down there to secure the boat.”

“I have a broken arm and there is an unconscious man here too.”

“Righto.  Get Meredith up here too.” The officer grinned down, “We’ll have you up in a jiffy.  The German greatcoats threw us, old boy.  Sorry about that.”

“Don’t mention it.  I am just happy you found us.”

A scrambling net was thrown from the side and two sailors dropped lithely into the boat. They cut away the wreckage and used the painter fore and aft to tie the boat to the net.

“I think I can manage to climb up but Hutton here will need help. He had a blow to the head.”

“Right sir, go steady and if you get stuck we will give you a hand.”

I put one foot in the net and leapt upwards with my right hand.  I managed to grab hold of the net just three feet from the top.  The warship was smaller than I had thought.  Unfortunately the motion of the vessel caused my broken arm to hit the side and pain coursed, once more, through my body. I gritted my teeth.  Safety was just a little way ahead. I took the weight on my right hand and threw my right leg as high as I could get it. I pushed down on my left leg and began to rise.  My head appeared level with the deck.  A sailor said, “You are a tough bugger sir.” He leaned over and gripped my right arm.  I saw that the muscles were knotted like a battleship’s hawser. “Push with your leg sir. Jenkins watch his broken arm.”

And then I was hauled, unceremoniously aboard. The seamen helped me to my feet.  “We’ll get your oppo for you.”

The officer held out his hand.  “Lieutenant Jonathan Reed, commander of this minesweeper, ‘Black Prince’. Welcome aboard.”

I held out my hand, “Captain Bill Harsker, 41 Squadron Royal Flying Corps and the other chap is Flight Sergeant Hutton.”

He looked amazed.  “You are a long way off course.  Where were you based?”

“Close to the Somme.”

“Then you have had a hell of a journey.  You can tell me about it when we get your friend up.”

As the sailors helped Hutton I gave a brief account of our journey. The sailors had rigged something up and Hutton was being safely hauled up. When he was on board the two sailors threw the haversacks and greatcoat on board and them clambered up the scrambling net.

“Right chaps, target practice. I want the fishing boat sinking.” We began to move away from the little boat. When we were a hundred yards away the two pounder and the machine guns all fired at her.  She sank within minutes.

“It seems a shame somehow.  She had served us well.”

“Yes I know but the thing is you are on the edge of a minefield.  If she had drifted and set one off then we would have to send a ship to investigate.  It was necessary old chap.” He turned to a rating who was kneeling next to Hutton.  “How is he, Meredith?”

“He’ll live sir.  Just a nasty blow to the head.” He glanced at me.  “Let’s get that arm seen to eh sir?” Hutton was put on a stretcher and we were taken below decks to the tiny sick bay.  There was just one bed within and Hutton was placed carefully in it after they had taken off his boots and coats. Meredith said.  “He’ll be all right for a minute or two but let’s see to this.” He took out a hypodermic needle.  I hated needles. He laid it on a kidney bowl and then carefully took my coat off my right arm.  He then cut the ropes holding the splint and then took off the scarf and the stick. The pain was excruciating.

He looked at me sadly, “There is no easy way to do this sir. I can give you something for the pain but not until I have your tunic off.” He nodded to his assistant. “Undo the officer’s shirt and be ready to get it off his broken arm as soon as I say.”

He peeled my tunic slowly down to the elbow.  With an apologetic look he began to straighten my arm. I squeezed the nails of my right hand into my palm as I felt the rough edges of the bones grate together. Like a magician with a table cloth he whipped the tunic off in one motion. “Now Jonesy!”

The shirt came off equally quickly.  The sudden cold made me shiver. “Nearly done sir.” Meredith injected my arm and the pain began to subside immediately.

Jones held a small glass to me. “Try this sir, it’ll warm you up.”

“What is it?”

“Nelson’s blood sir. That’ll put hair on your chest.”

The neat rum worked and, together with the injection drove all pain from my body. I watched as Meredith aligned the ends of the broken bones so that they were straight. He looked at me apologetically. “Have to get this right if you want to use this again.” Satisfied he said, “Jonesy, get me two metal plates.” He glanced up at me, “You a pilot then?”

“Yes, doctor.”

He laughed, “I am no doctor.  Sick Bay attendant I am.  That’s why I am leaving your oppo there for a bit.  I can mend broken arms but concussions are something else.  I can do more harm than good there.  We are heading for King’s Lynn and we should be there in a couple of hours.  They have a proper doctor and he will see to your sergeant.”

He had me patched up within fifteen minutes. The plaster cast would protect my arm and I hoped that, when the rum and the painkiller wore off, it would not hurt too much.  Jonesy helped me with my shirt and was going to do the same for my tunic, I shook my head. “I’ll carry it over my arm.”

“Righto sir.” As he folded it he said, “Is this the Military Cross, sir?” I nodded, “And this one?  I have never seen one of those before.”

“That’s the Legion d’Honneur.  It is a French award.”

He suddenly became animated, “Sir, are you the bloke who got his medal off the King?” I nodded, “I saw it in the paper.” He turned to the sick bay attendant.  “We have a hero on board.”

Meredith smiled as Jones folded the tunic and laid it over my arm. “You should really lie down, sir, but this is the only bunk in sickbay and your pal needs it. Jonesy, see if the skipper will let this officer lie on his day bed.”

Jonesy raced off. “There’s no need.”

“That’s all you know.  Shock has a delayed reaction.  You look all in to me.”

The skipper was more than happy and I found myself lying on a cot just aft of the bridge.  After the fishing boat this felt like an ocean liner and the movement soon had me asleep. Jones woke me with a cup of hot tea sweetened with rum.  “Here y’are sir.  We are docking in an hour. And Billy Meredith says your oppo has come round.”

“Thank you, Jonesy.  I appreciate all that you have done.”

He shook his head, “No sir, I read that bit in the paper about you again.  You are a real hero.”

The skipper put his head around the door, “What was that about a hero?”

I shook my head, “Too many people think that all pilots are heroes.”

“Well you have to admit it is more glamorous than sailing this tin pot boat around the North Sea.”

“I’ll tell you this for nothing, out there in that fishing boat I would have traded places with you in an instant.”

He nodded, “I have radioed King’s Lynn.  The local military commander will meet you there and we’ll get back to the glamorous world of sweeping mines.”

Having seen the effect of the mines he was sweeping I think he was underestimating his own skills.  I finished the tea and made my way back to the sick bay. Hutton was sitting up and drinking tea. “Well you look better, Lumpy.”

“Billy here sorted me out.  Reckons I’ll just have a bump and a scar to remember it by.”

The sick bay attendant stood, “I’ll go to the mess.  It is just down the corridor.  Yell if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

Hutton looked at my arm.  “What happened sir?”

I sat on the bed and told him the whole story.  “I knew I shouldn’t have slept.”

“It might have been for the best.  If you had been awake we might have sailed blindly on and missed this minesweeper. It is never over until it is over.  You were right when we set off, Nil Desperandum.”

When we docked in the tiny port I saw a car waiting for us and two soldiers. I shook the skipper’s hand.  “Thanks for everything.”

“You are welcome and it relieved the monotony.  You take care. I’ll get my chaps to bring your things to the car.”

We walked down the gangway.  There was a hatchet faced sergeant there.  He looked to be in his fifties which explained why he was not at the front. “Captain Harsker, is it sir?” He had an aggressive tone which I did not like.

“It is and this is Flight Sergeant Hutton.”

“If you would get in the back of the car sir we will take you to Captain Ebbs.”

“Thank you, sergeant.”

We sank into the soft seats of the Bentley.  I had forgotten what comfort was like. We drove a little way from the harbour and entered a small barracks. Captain Ebbs looked to have no more than a company under his command. The sentries on the gate looked as old as the sergeant and I realised that these were territorials.

“We’ll get your bags, sir.” The driver smiled a little more than the sergeant.

The sergeant led the way to a large office.  I saw, behind the desk, a huge picture of the king and underneath it a painting of a stand of redcoats against the Zulus. A sergeant was seated at one desk whilst a young lieutenant was at the other.  For some reason they both looked nervous.

When Captain Ebbs finally arrived I saw that he too was an older man.  He was a small, neat little man with a neatly trimmed moustache. He was at least sixty and begged the question why he had never risen above that rank. He laid his swagger stick down carefully as though it was a precious object.

He sat down and stared at me. I don’t know what I had expected but it was not this. “So Herr Harsker, you thought you could sneak ashore and spy for the Kaiser did you?”

I looked at Hutton in case this was some sort of dream.  The other three soldiers in the room, the two sergeants and the lieutenant did not appear surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

The hatchet faced sergeant threw a German haversack, a great coat, a Luger and a German map on to the table. ”These were found in your possession, you German bastard.”

“But sir!”

Captain Ebbs picked up his swagger stick and slashed Hutton across the face.  “Silence, you German swine.”

I tried to rise but hatchet face had me pinned to my seat. “Sit down before I knock your bloody head off!”

I breathed slowly and gathered myself.  I saw the hatred in Hutton’s eyes. “We are two RFC air crew.  We were shot down near to Ypres and we made our way to Ostend where we stole a boat and escaped.  We were damaged in a storm and rescued by the Black Prince.”

“A cleverly rehearsed story but you are dealing with a superior mind here. This is just the sort of trick the Hun would come up with.” He tapped the swagger stick on the desk. If he tried to hit me with it he would find himself eating it. “I am having a firing squad convened and you will be shot at dawn.”