1918 We will remember them (16 page)

And then the rest of the leave flew by. The wedding dominated all.  The ceremony in the chapel was perfect.  Beattie’s colleagues had decorated it and the small chapel was filled with off duty hospital staff.  Even the fierce Matron appeared. As I had expected mum and Alice were in floods of tears.  For mum I was the only son she would see married and for Alice I was a reminder of what she and Charlie might have experienced.  As Beattie said, later on, “Everyone cries at wedding, the difference is that those two were not crying for us but for a personal loss.  I can share that.  The important thing is that we are married and not the reason people cry.”

The wedding breakfast was cosy and intimate.  Ted was touched by the interest everyone showed in him.  That day saw a change wrought in him.  He became less solitary and more outgoing. I think he saw in the two married couples something that he wanted. Gordy enjoyed playing the host and he and dad got on like a house on fire.

The next day we headed north on the train. We changed trains at Liverpool Lime Street. John went to Burscough and Beattie and I were alone. Even when we arrived in Blackpool we were alone. It was December and there was a war on. Apart from a handful of permanent residents we were the only guests but a combination of my uniform and the fact that we were a honeymoon couple meant that we were treated like royalty.

We spent the few days walking along the prom either in a gale or a storm of sleet but it didn’t matter. In the evening, after dinner we would listen to the pianist in the residents lounge and then have an early night. It was idyllic.

The idyll continued at Burscough where mum showed off to Beattie cooking all of my favourite foods and Beattie responded as I knew she would by asking for the recipes.

One day, while they were in the kitchen and dad was in his shed I sat and spoke with Alice. “How are you really, our kid?”

“I am getting there.” She lowered her voice and held my hand in hers. “I thought about, you know, ending it all after … but then I thought what it would do to mum and dad. I tell you this, our Bill, there isn’t a day goes by when I don’t think of him and what we had.  It was, well, it was just right.” She leaned in.  “You and Beattie getting married has been the best thing that has happened to me.  Have tons of kids because I am going to be the best auntie in the world.”

I kissed her on the cheek as John came back with some scones he had made. “I never doubted it for a minute.”

“Fresh out of the oven! Come along leave the kitchen!”

When the three of them came in to join us I knew that my world was complete. I closed my eyes and prayed that the war would end that minute and I could stay here and all would be well.  There would be no more deaths. I opened my eyes and the world was the same and there would still be months of slaughter. My prayers went unanswered.

Beattie was back on duty by New Year’s Eve and John and I stayed at the Mayflower. We did not have long.  We received our telegrams asking us to report to the field on January the third.  After hurried goodbyes outside the Nurse’s Home, John and I took the boat train back to the war: back to reality.

I was largely silent on the way back to France. I resented having to leave my new bride.  I suspect Bates understood such things, for he chattered the whole way back. My grunted and curt responses did not upset him at all. He spoke of my family and Lady Burscough. He even spoke at great length about the pub and the men he had met there. By the time we were on the last leg, From Calais to Amiens, I realised that he was chattering away not to take my mind away from Beattie but because he was a lonely man and he now belonged to my family. He had had nothing before and, in his mind, he now had everything. War was a strange beast and changed every man- just in different ways.

Ted, Gordy, Johnny and Freddie had been on the train from Calais to Amiens and it was good to catch up with them.  I could be silent with Bates: he was like my confidante but I had to be sociable with the men with whom I flew. The train to Amiens had been a transition from the world of peace to the world of war. One topic of conversation was the attitude of the press and the public to Cambrai.  At home everyone viewed the battle as a great victory. We knew that it was not.  It showed how the newspapers were being manipulated, perhaps even controlled. I never trusted them after that.

Randolph had arrived back early along with the senior warrant officers. Consequently everything was in order by the time Bates and I arrived. There were stoves strategically placed pumping out heat and there was hot food available. January was cold.  I had no idea why we had been summoned back for there would be little flying for the next month or so. Archie arrived back a day late. His train had been delayed in Scotland and he had missed his connections. I took charge on that first day. 

The new Camels had been delivered and Randolph and I assigned them. Ted and Gordy were a little upset that they had not said goodbye to their gunners.  They had been sent to their new squadrons already. It was sad because a pilot and a gunner formed a relationship which was as close as that of a married couple.  The two of you became one. The Brass hats which had decided that would not understand such considerations.

The pilots walked warily around their new buses.  They knew them, of course, but they had never flown them. I had told all of them that they should treat it with a great deal of respect, at first.  This was not an easy bus like the Bristol.  This was a thoroughbred and required delicate handling. Ted had laughed at my terminology.  “This isn’t the cavalry you know!”

I smiled, “Perhaps if you treat the Camel like a horse you won’t get thrown.  In the cavalry if a horse threw you then you fell six feet.” I patted the Camel.  “This beastie might throw you ten thousand feet.”

Ted had changed and he nodded sagely, “Point taken.”

While the pilots discussed the Camels and examined them I went to the office. I had bought more of my special mix at the tobacconists and gave Randolph a pouch of it. We lit our pipes. When they were going I asked, “Why the rush to get back Randolph?”

He went to the door and closed it. He spoke in a hushed voice. “This can go no further, Bill.” I nodded. “I thought the same things as you and I telephoned my chum at Headquarters. It appears that the Germans have had a competition to build new aeroplanes. Your old pal, the Red Baron, had the idea. They will be ready by the spring. The Germans are also making more large Jastas like the Flying Circus. They are being fitted out with the Fokker Triplane. My chum reckons that they are going to try to sweep us from the skies.”

I tapped the loose ash from my pipe.  “A Spring Offensive.”

“Exactly. There are hundreds of thousands of troops on their way back from the Russian front.  They will outnumber us and do you remember those chaps with the flame throwers?” He shook his head, “Sorry, insensitive of me, of course you remember.”

“You can’t keep pussyfooting around my feelings Randolph.  I am dealing with it.”

“I know.  And you are doing a damned fine job of it. Anyway they are called Storm troopers and the Germans are going through all their Divisions and selecting the best soldiers they have to form small Storm trooper units.  We saw what they could do at Cambrai.  Well there will be thousands like that. The men not only have flame throwers they have small portable machine guns too.  So you can see that the new Jastas, the new aeroplanes, the new German Units all point to a Spring Offensive. We have to be ready and we have to be able to stop the attack whenever it comes.”

That was a tall order but at least we now had twenty five Camels and we could hold our own against the triplane. When Archie returned I would ask him for permission to begin training the pilots in tactics to use against the Flying Circus. The Germans looked to have created another two to them.  We could hide no longer.

Once Archie returned we threw ourselves into our new work. Randolph briefed Archie but the rest of the squadron were in the dark ad could not understand the frenzied training regime we put into place. Every day when the weather permitted we took them up and had them all practising dogfights.  It took a week for Ted and Gordy to be confident that they could fly the new bus. Ironically it was the younger pilots who took the change in their stride. The older pilots could not understand it. By February Archie and I felt that we were ready to take on the Germans.  We had patrolled all through January but we had not seen the German Jastas.  It was as if they were hibernating. Archie and I had discussed the real reason with Randolph whose chum kept us well informed. “When they launch their attack they will come with everything at once. With all of these extra men from the east they can afford to be profligate with their losses.”

“You are right Randolph. You can bet that the infantry who make the initial attack will not be the best.  They will be the ones to weaken us and then these new storm troopers will exploit the gaps.”

“And we have heard that they are building their own tanks.  They captured some of ours.  It is highly likely they will use our own weapons against us.”

“And you can bet they will have made them work a little better too!”

We were sent over enemy lines on February fourth. It was a squadron patrol but we flew in four flights a mile apart. We were looking for evidence of this spring attack. The rumour at Headquarters was that it was called Operation Michael. I didn’t care about the name but I did worry that if it worked we could have a front line forty miles west of where we were.

It was so cold I was tempted to have a nip from the hip flask of whisky I always carried in my flying coat.  I knew that was the slippery road to ruin. I would ask Bates to make a flask of soup for me next time. The repaired and serviced Camel purred beautifully as we flew at ten thousand feet.  It was too cold to venture any higher and the visibility was good. Knowing what I did, I viewed the German lines with heavy suspicion. Hidden from view there were hordes of grey uniformed soldiers ready to fill the forward trenches. There were superior squadrons of German fighters ready to pounce.

As we turned on the southern leg of our patrol I was glad that they had not upgraded us to the SE 5.  It might be faster but it was bigger and did not have the turning ability of the Camel.  When the push came I knew that the Fokker Triplanes would turn them inside out and have them for breakfast. I caught a glint of sunlight.  It reflected on something in the east.  The odds were that it was a German aeroplane. We had spent many hours practising aerial signals. I waggled my wings and pointed to the east.  I knew that the signal would be repeated to Jack Falls in the rear.

I began a gentle climb. If it was a flight of Germans I wanted to be able to swoop in and out quickly.  We were too high for ground fire but the Germans had some smaller artillery pieces and they began to hurl hopeful shells into the air. It was a waste of ammunition.

I saw that it was a flight of six triplanes. Did I attack or run? I decided to try something new.  Freddie and his flight were a mile to our south.  I flew a little further east until the German formation was just three miles away. I knew that we had been seen and I feigned flight. I banked to starboard and headed south west.  The Germans had the advantage of height and I saw them, in my mirror, as they swooped after us. I knew that my young pilots would be thinking that I had lost the plot but I was putting myself in the leading German’s head. This was not the Flying Circus, they all had the same livery, therefore they had just acquired the triplanes.  They would think themselves invincible and that our flight showed fear.

I kept descending slowly.  I wanted them below Freddie and his flight.  As soon as I saw the six Camels ahead I levelled out but maintained my course. The leading pilot fired early.  I saw Jack begin to move his bus from side to side.  It would take a lucky shot at distance to hit him.  More importantly it distracted him from the line of six Camels which were diving towards him. I pulled my nose up sharply and banked to port. My flight followed immediately and the move took the Germans by surprise.

I kept banking so that I could bring my flight into the centre of the German formation. With Freddie’s flight cutting off their escape east we had our best chance to make a killing. The third Fokker in the line was desperately pulling his nose around to align his sights on me.  I managed my turn first and I gave a short burst. I hit one of his wings.  His turn took him from my sights but directly into the sights of Lieutenant Jenkin who riddled the Fokker with a burst.  It began to smoke and turned east.  George followed him.

We had practised this and I knew that Lieutenant Fox, my new pilot, would tuck in behind me.  There would be a gap but I knew I would have support. I kept my turn going and saw the tail of the second Fokker hove into view.  I fired and hit his tail.  He twisted to port. I had expected that, for port would take him east.  I continued my turn.  He was better at turning and I only hit him with a handful of bullets but he was hit. As we came around I saw Freddie’s flight swarming all over the last two Fokkers.  They had hit one for I saw it plummeting to earth. The leader had had enough and was heading home. My target twisted and turned. I kept hitting him but I failed to do enough damage to bring him down.  I checked my fuel gauge and saw that I was down to a quarter of a tank.  I turned for home. Two Fokkers escaped but the rest found a grave in No Man’s Land.

“Well done, sir.  That was brilliant the way you took the Germans towards the captain.”

“It made sense Mr Fox. Six to six might have meant we shot down fewer and we may have lost a couple ourselves.  Two to one is better if you can manage it.”

The young lieutenant looked disappointed. “I thought the war in the air was supposed to be noble.”

I stared at him, remembering the fiery death that Charlie Sharp had suffered, “There is nothing noble about this war! Get that idea out of your head now! Our job is to shoot down as many Germans as we can manage and to survive the war! Understood?”

He recoiled in the face of my anger, “Yes sir.”

As I strode towards the office I noticed Jack walk towards him. He would explain my venom. There had been a time when I might have been gentler.  I had lost too many friends for gentleness now.  I wanted all of my young men to survive.

“So the intelligence was correct for once.  They have fitted out their Jastas with triplanes.”

“Yes. We were just lucky that it was a small patrol. I don’t think we will be as lucky the next time.”

Archie nodded, “Still four Fokkers destroyed in one action is pretty good going.  Well done, Bill.”

“It wasn’t me who got them it was Freddie and my flight.”

“You are the leader. If you weren’t up there then they might have had less success.”

I shook my head.  “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

The next day Bates handed me the flask of soup.  “Here you are sir.  Piping hot soup.”

“What kind is it?”

“Best not to ask, sir. Probably the leftovers from a few days ago.  Still it is hot.”

We had the same patrol area.  As we climbed into the skies over No Man’s Land the burnt out Fokkers were a stark reminder of how close death and destruction lay.

I kept a wary eye east but saw nothing and I was beginning to think that it would be a dull day when I saw Freddie’s flight coming towards us. Behind him, some half a mile distant, were six Fokkers. I began to climb. As I did so my eyes were drawn to the cloud cover which was a little lower than it had been the previous day. I caught a brief glimpse of an undercarriage and a wing. It had to be Germans.  I increased my angle of ascent and my speed. There was no signal I could give to warn Freddie to the danger he was in. I only had one option.  I opened fire.  Waggling my wings I signalled for my flight to return home. I waited until they began to peel off. I knew that they would think that Major Harsker had finally cracked but I knew the Germans.  When they laid a trap it was usually lethal.

Suddenly eighteen Fokkers descended like a flock of vengeful Valkyrie. I saw that five of the Fokkers had joined those chasing Johnny and were swooping down on him. He would have no chance. I banked to starboard and did the only thing possible: I flew into the heart of the formation. My hope was that I would disrupt them.  I did not think they would be able to fire at me for fear of hitting their comrades and the biggest danger would be a collision. I had to pray that my reactions were quick enough.