Beaufighter Blitz Page 7

  Wouldn’t want that flying around in the cockpit…

  Outside, the engines were being readied, and he began his cockpit checks.

  Rose relished flying again, but having flown Hurricanes, he had found the Blenheim sluggish and difficult during the conversion course, and it made him despair at his choice to fly night fighters.

  During the course, there was much talk of evading Sir Isaac, a villainous personification of the rules of physics, the one factor which was constantly working against the students, and endlessly conspiring to bring about their downfall and death.

  Having already survived Sir Isaac’s evil intentions, Rose hated the Blenheim. He missed Hurricanes, and decided that he would visit the Air Ministry again to request single engine fighters again once he had completed the conversion.

  However, flying the Beaufighter on the familiarisation course afterwards had been completely different, and he’d taken to the great brute of an aircraft immediately.

  The strength and power that she possessed captivated him and reassured him that the choice had been right.

  She was a fighter in every way, and he was a fighter pilot. What could be more right than the two be joined?

  Then he smiled. There was nothing in the world more right and perfect than his being joined with Molly.

  Now that was perfection, in every sense.

  His eyes ran quickly, professionally over the controls, feeling at home. Arranged so that he knew where each was even in the dark.

  “All set. Ready to go, Chalky?”

  “I’ve been waiting to be asked that question for weeks now, sir, months even. Thank you for asking me. And, oh gosh, yes! I’m ready!”

  Minutes later, Rose’s left hand opened the throttles and they thundered along the main runway, whilst ensuring his right throttle was a little ahead of the left, to allow for and offset the dangerous swing commonly found in the Beaufighter on take-off.

  And then, as the Beau bounded eagerly from the concrete like an unleashed puppy, he brought his hand forward to raise the undercarriage, then back again to hold the throttles in place. If they were to creep back he might lose power and speed when he needed them most.

  He gazed out at the countryside around and ahead through the large bullet-proof windshield which afforded him an excellent all-round visibility.

  He also wistfully noticed a black-painted Hawker Hurricane fighter of the Turbinlite flight parked to one side at dispersals.

  There was no doubt about it; the Hurricane was a truly gorgeous aeroplane.

  But today his kite was this much larger fighter, and he pulled the Beau into a gentle climb away from RAF Dimple Heath and towards the practice interception rendezvous.

  “This is amazing!” exclaimed White excitedly. He was looking eagerly through the clear moulded Perspex bubble as they climbed upwards at more than 300mph.

  Rose was pleased to hear the enthusiasm in the young operator’s voice. White was in the right place at last.

  Let the bloody loos look after themselves.

  Rose also noticed that this Beau seemed to have a better rate of roll in comparison to the machine in which he had done his training and familiarisation.

  “Chalky, are you sure that you want to start off with an interception? We could just as easily start off with a beacon identification and approach exercise?”

  “It’s OK, sir, let’s go for an interception. I’m ready, and anyway, the other Beau will be waiting for us.” T-Tommy had already preceded them ten minutes earlier for an air-test, and would rendezvous with D-Dog at the designated exercise area.

  “Fair enough, my old son, if you’re sure?”

  “I am, sir, thank you.”

  A wave of apprehension swept over Rose.

  Oh, dear God, let me have done the right thing! Please let me not be crewed up with a useless dud!

  When they finally met up with T-Tommy at the meeting point, the other, more experienced crew began with a series of basic azimuth and elevation exercises which allowed White to describe to Rose T-Tommy’s position relative to D-Dog from various angles and heights of approach, to ensure that the operator’s AI set (better known to one and all as ‘The Thing’) was correctly configured for operational use.

  Satisfied and relieved with White’s performance in the basic exercises, Rose began a series of interceptions, wherein White actively gave Rose directions to turn onto a course that allowed them to finish up on the tail of the enemy aircraft, matching the enemy aircraft’s speed and course.

  If, however, the turn was poorly timed and executed, it could cause all sorts of problems to the nightfighter crew.

  If the operator called the turn too early to his pilot, they would end up in front of the target, allowing the enemy aircraft to chase them.

  Conversely, if they turned after the enemy too late, then they would end up in a position too far behind the target, resulting in a long pursuit in which they might lose the enemy bomber if it undertook evasive action or escaped beyond AI range.

  It seemed night fighter flying and combat required equal measures of precision, ability, and good luck.

  Rose was surprised and reassured by White’s control as he repeatedly performed accomplished interceptions on the target Beaufighter from three different and varied approaches and speeds. He made some mistakes, but corrected them almost immediately.

  Even with his hands around a broom for the last few weeks, thankfully, White had not forgotten any of the skills he’d been taught.

  But it was one thing intercepting an obliging Beau in broad daylight, and quite another to intercept an evasive enemy bomber in darkness. White had done well, and shown Rose that he was an accomplished AI operator in these conditions.

  Could he perform when it mattered, when all that stood between a British city and an enemy bomber was D-Dog? Operations might be a totally different story.

  They would have to face the test soon, and Rose desperately hoped that they would not be found wanting.

  With a steep approach and a flamboyant flare out, Rose stalled the Beaufighter into a neat landing onto the main runway at Dimple Heath. White said nothing as the wheels neatly touched the concrete once more, but Rose heard the sharp intake of breath over the intercom.

  Rose was pleased with the landing, when I was at my best I could land a Hurricane like that, he thought happily. And indeed the Beaufighter was a sturdy, solid workhorse like the Hurricane. He would always miss his Hurricane, but the Beaufighter was a fine kite to fly.

  Clambering out of the fighter, Rose felt tired but content. His muscles ached pleasantly and he had been comfortable handling the big fighter today. Of course, she was a great deal heavier than his lovely old Hurricane, but it had been a pleasure nonetheless. Perhaps she wasn’t quite as manoeuvrable as a Hurri, and certainly she needed a lot more effort to fly by comparison, but they were both rugged and dependable machines that packed a punch and could take a bucket load of punishment.

  Just as importantly, if not more, White had proven to him that he could do what was required when needed. Rose was more than a little angry that the young operator had been kept performing menial tasks when his very special skills were urgently needed elsewhere, in the sky.

  Very angry indeed. What an inexcusable waste! While the cities were being bombed his skills were being squandered!

  He would need to speak to Kelly and ensure there were no other aircrew languishing in inappropriate roles on the ground at Dimple Heath. They should be up there fighting the enemy!

  White joined him near the tail, placing a gloved hand carefully on the stained metal of the tailplane.

  “Was it alright, sir? Did I do OK?” His voice and posture were casual, but the blue eyes were anxious, face pallid with apprehension.

  Rose smiled at him, “You’ll do, Chalky. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” White looked away, but not before Rose had seen the naked relief and emotion on his face.

  “I think you’ve earned a nice cup of tea and a bun,
chum. Let’s get back to the dispersals hut.” Rose pulled at the sergeant’s stripes, “Goodness me! These’re a bit loose! I think you’re going to have to put these on properly, my old son, because they’re staying there.”

  White’s voice was hoarse and unsure, “I wasn’t sure I was going to get to keep them, so I just did a temporary job on them, sir.”

  “Well, you will be keeping them, Chalky. Perhaps you can get a friendly WAAF to sew them on properly for you?”

  Surprisingly, White blushed and smiled self-consciously, “One of the Wing Commander’s WAAF typists asked the adjutant if she could do them for me, actually sir.” Inconsequentially, he added. “She’s a blonde.”

  Interesting. “Hm. Sounds promising. I think you ought to take her up on her offer. Pretty?”

  White nodded bashfully.

  Rose cocked an eyebrow, “So, tell me more, blonde and pretty, that’s a good start! So, Chalky, old man, what’s her name?”

  “Erm, I’m not sure, sir.” White said self-consciously, “She did tell me, but the Adjutant was watching, and I didn’t catch it. I didn’t like to ask again.”

  Rose shook his head sorrowfully and put an arm around the boy’s shoulders, “Oh dear, that’s a bit of a poor show, Chalky. You’re RAF aircrew! We’re not backwards at coming forwards, you know! Don’t let the side down, old cock!” he scoffed, conveniently forgetting his own bashfulness with Molly.

  “You need to go back and ask her to sew on your stripes properly, Chalky, my lad, maybe try and find out her name, then, eh? Good man. Come on then; let’s see if we can find that cuppa, eh? You can tell me all about the AI box thingie, although I should really be calling it ‘The Thing,’ shouldn’t I?”

  “Yes sir, it’s a secret, we need to be careful whenever we talk about it.”

  “I’m not terribly good with technological things, so I think I’ll leave all that in your capable hands, old son, you point me in the right direction and I’ll just concentrate on doing the driving bit.”

  He smiled gently, “So here’s to our team, Sergeant White.”

  White blushed with pleasure, and looked away, forwards to the snub nose, where the recessed gun ports of the four 20mm cannon were. “And the shooting bit, sir!”

  Rose followed his gaze, and his eyes were hungry, remembering the Luftwaffe attacks and bombings he had experienced himself, both at RAF airfields and in the capital, “Ah yes, Chalky, of course, the shooting bit. I must say I’m rather looking forward to that!”

  Chapter 5

  James was waiting outside B-Flight’s dispersal hut when they arrived, arms folded across his chest, pugnaciously puffing on a pipe, the stem firmly thrust between his teeth.

  Rose was not allowed to smoke by a disapproving Molly, and now he gazed enviously at James’ pipe, imagining what it would be like to smoke one…

  “Back from practice, Rose? How did it go? Hm?” He looked shrewdly at the young sergeant, the youngster doing his best to merge quietly into the background. “And how did young, er, White do?”

  “I think it went rather well, really, sir. The sergeant here did a good job of the interceptions, his patter was easy to follow, and I think he’s definitely ready for operations. I’d like him as my operator, if that’s OK?”

  James looked visibly relieved, “Good show, alright then. I’ll tell the Adj to sort out all the necessary. I’ll include D-Dog on the operational roster from the day after tomorrow. We’ll start your two days on operational duty then. In the meantime, lots more practice. Acceptable?”

  “Perfectly, sir, thank you. We’ll do some more practice flights later today and tomorrow.”

  James nodded in agreement, “Yes, I think that would be helpful. You seem to know how to handle a Beau, at least. It would be a good idea if you would carry out some dusk circuits and bumps just to make sure that you’re comfortable with your Beau and your airborne awareness relative to Dimple Heath in the darkness, solo though, of course. I’d like you to carry out an air test later, and tomorrow afternoon as well. Make sure your kite’s ready, yes? Have a chat with some of the lads on now so you get an idea how we organise and operate the two day duty period in conjunction with A’ Flight. D-Dog will be allocated to you from now until the end of your tour.” He removed his pipe from his mouth and looked into its glowing bowl.

  “Thank you, sir. She’s a lovely aeroplane.”

  “She’s one of the squadron’s better machines. You know how some fly sweeter than others. The last crew did quite well in her, and I thought with your experience, and a bit of luck, you might do the same.”

  He looked dubiously at White, “Uh, both of you, of course. Do your pilot proud, eh, White? Hm?” he jammed the pipe back into his mouth.

  White, standing at ease, nodded respectfully but said nothing.

  Rose held up a finger, feeling as if he were in class. “Sir, if I might I ask a question? I believe you have a blonde typist?”

  James’ teeth clenched dangerously on the pipe-stem. “What? Blonde typist? You mean Mandy? What do you mean? Why are you asking, man? I thought you were happily married?” James stared at him belligerently, chest puffed up in outrage.

  “Might I ask a favour, sir? Could I possibly borrow her for half an hour?”

  “What? What d’you mean, damn it? I don’t approve of this sort of thing, Rose. I’m not sure that I can help you. I’ve a good mind to speak to your good lady. Borrow Mandy? You’ve got a bloody cheek!”

  James tapped his pipe on the wall, and then emptied the contents into an empty cup. Not quite empty, as the dregs quenched the burning embers of tobacco with a slight hiss and a thin ribbon of smoke.

  He waved the newly emptied pipe vaguely at Rose, “I can’t believe the impertinence!”

  Rose raised his palms in placation, “Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think I made myself clear. My interest in, erm, Mandy, is purely platonic. I merely wanted to borrow her momentarily for her sewing skills. Sergeant White here is a little more accomplished with AI apparatus than with a needle and thread. I need to get his stripes sewn on properly, but I’m concerned that he may hurt himself, and I really need his fingers at their best if we’re to fly practices and operations.”

  The confusion and indignation magically cleared from James’s face. “Oh. I see. Hrmph! Well, if she would like to help when she’s off duty, I see no reason why she can’t. But not while she’s on duty. She’s not a seamstress, you know.” He spoke to White, “Sergeant, you’ll have to ask her yourself. I’m no bloody go-between. I’ve better things to do with my time!”

  The young man looked as if he would faint with fear. “No, sir. Yes, sir. I’m sorry sir.” White quavered.

  “Yes, well…I’m sure she’ll be glad to help. She’s a nice girl, and a damn good typist, so keep your grubby paws off her, understood? She’s no strumpet, damn it!”

  Rose leapt to his operator’s defence, “I’m sorry, sir. It was my idea to talk to Mandy. Chalky had no idea I was going to ask you.”

  James sighed long and hard. “No. No, no need to apologise. Chalky, hm? I’m here for a reason, actually. Ahem.” James fidgeted with his pipe and sighed again, “It appears that there has been a bit of a bungle, Sergeant White, um, Chalky, and I must apologise to you. Confirmation of your promotion to Sergeant arrived some weeks ago, but it seems to have been overlooked somehow. It was actually young Mandy who found the message.” James stared fixedly into the pipe’s bowl and scraped at a dried shred, then looked back up at Rose.

  “It had fallen behind a filing cabinet, you see. It seems that when the Adj brought you in, she decided to have a good check to see if there had been any communications regarding you. She bought me in the slip of paper not fifteen minutes ago.”

  He stuck the empty pipe back into his mouth, defiantly biting down on the stem with such force that Rose felt sure that the CO must crack a tooth on it.

  “I thought it best to speak with you myself. It’s unforgivable of course, and I must apologise. There’s
back pay and leave owing as well, so see the Adjutant or Mandy to sort out the paperwork, and erm, other stuff, alright?” James shifted his feet uncomfortably.

  White smiled hesitantly; though his eyes still betrayed his anxiety, “Thank you, sir. It was good of you to tell me. I think I was fated to fly with Mr Rose here. If you don’t mind, sir, I think I shall see Mandy about the papers a little later, and ask her to sew my tapes up when she gets the chance?”

  James’ voice was gruff. “Of course, um, Chalky. I’m sure she’ll be glad to help. Well, must dash. See a man about a dog.” He hesitated, then, “Welcome aboard and all that, eh?”

  Looking mightily relieved and thankful to be able to go, James nodded companionably at them both and left.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Chalky, didn’t mean to drop you in it.” Rose was mortified. “I really shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry, chum.”

  White looked at him in surprise.

  “Sorry, sir? What for? I owe you so much! I’m standing here with sergeant’s stripes on my arm instead of sweeping out a hanger because of you.”

  He was silent for a moment, and then continued, his voice trembling, “I’m going to be the best operator this squadron has ever seen, and I’m going to do my best for you. You’re already an ace, and I’m going to do all that I can possibly do to make you a night fighter ace as well, sir. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll do gladly, I swear it. How can I ever thank you? For what you’ve done for me?”

  Rose was taken aback and discomfited by the boy’s impassioned outburst, and surprised by the burning intensity of feeling in the youngster’s eyes.

  He felt strange warmth prickling treacherously behind his own eyes and he blinked and cleared his throat. He couldn’t think of anything to say in his embarrassment.

  White rubbed his hands together to warm them, and his expression was thoughtful, “Actually, sir, I must say that it was really quite decent of the CO, to come and tell me what had happened in person, and to apologise. He could have sent someone else to do it instead.”