Battle of Britain Read online

  The following morning, things at first did not seem quite so bad, and, as they joined the others in the Mess for some breakfast, Archie wondered briefly whether perhaps they had got away with it after all. Perhaps – perhaps – Ted’s boundless optimism had been justified.

  Such fleeting hopes were soon dashed, however. As they were about to head down to dispersal, Reynolds came over, his face ashen, and said, ‘The CO wants to see you in his office now, boys.’

  They followed the adjutant in silence as they walked over to the main building, into the hallway, along the corridor and then stood in front of the CO’s office. Reynolds looked at them, sighed, then said, ‘Deep breath, chaps.’

  ‘Thanks, Uncle,’ said Ted.

  Archie felt so nauseous he could not speak.

  Then they were standing before Mac’s desk as he sat there looking over a couple of sheets of paper. The morning sun poured through the window, illuminating the dust motes that swirled idly on the air. There was a smell of stale cigarette smoke and floor polish. Archie closed his eyes.

  ‘I don’t know which report to begin with,’ said MacIntyre. ‘Tell you what, let’s start with this one. This is from the Horn-church Sector reporting two lone Spitfires seen heading out over the Channel at 20.13 last night. Then here’s another at 20.46 reporting the same two Spitfires flying back over the coast. They’ve identified them as being from this squadron by the radio chatter that was picked up.’

  Beside him, Archie was conscious of Ted shifting his feet.

  ‘Then there’s a report from Air Intelligence in which German radio signals report six 109s destroyed and seven more damaged, plus a fuel truck destroyed and various buildings and other bits of equipment damaged at Coquelles and Calais Guines. On top of that, there are reconnaissance photographs from Medmenham taken first thing this morning that confirm that not inconsiderable damage was caused at both enemy airfields. Finally, there’s a note to me from Air Vice-Marshal Park, AOC 11 Group. “Good work across the Channel – well done. But no more trips over the water. Reserve all strength for fight over our own soil.”’ The CO put the paper down, sighed, then rubbed his forehead, before turning to look at them once more.

  ‘What you did was very brave and, fortunately for you, very successful, but also completely idiotic. If anything had gone wrong – anything – you would have had no chance of recovery. Not flying that low. We need every pilot we can get at the moment, and especially two like you who are damned good and know how to handle themselves. You pulled it off, but you might easily not have done. You might easily be dead, the pair of you. Last time I hauled you in here, I warned you that if you crossed me again I’d run you out of the squadron. I also warned you that I was not making an idle threat, and nor was I.’ He paused and sighed again. ‘You’re the two best pilots in this squadron and I had hoped that you’d be the beating heart of 629 in the weeks and months to come. But I need to trust my pilots and I don’t trust you. I can’t – not any more. Not after what you did last night. You’re still very young – kids, really – but you need to grow up, and grow up fast, or else you’ll continue to be a danger to yourselves and a danger to those around you.’

  ‘Sir, I’d like to say that it was all my idea,’ stammered Ted. ‘Pilot Officer Jackson was against the idea from the start and only came with me because he felt honour-bound to watch my tail.’

  ‘Somehow, I can believe that,’ said MacIntyre, ‘but I’m afraid you’re both being posted.’

  ‘Please, sir,’ said Ted.

  ‘Sorry,’ said MacIntyre. ‘I did warn you. You’ve brought this on yourselves. I don’t care how good you are as pilots, it’s what’s up here that counts.’ He tapped the side of his head with his finger. ‘Perhaps this will be the making of you both.’ He passed over two envelopes. ‘Here. Your postings. You’re going to join 337 Squadron at Biggin Hill. Squadron Leader Berenson is an old friend of mine from Cranwell days. He’s a good bloke.’ He stood up and walked around his desk.

  ‘You’re not being put on a charge or anything like that. Your records are clean – this is a transfer to a front-line squadron – a squadron that also suffered over Dunkirk and which could use a couple of decent pilots like yourselves.’

  ‘But, sir,’ said Ted, ‘aren’t we needed here? If the squadron loses another two pilots –’

  MacIntyre eyed him. ‘We’re moving to Middle Wallop in 10 Group. Today, as it happens. Much more action in 11 Group, Tyler, which will suit you down to the ground.’ He gave them a lopsided smile and held out his hand. ‘I wish you luck, fellers, and perhaps one day our paths will cross again.’

  Once they had left MacIntyre’s office, Archie brushed past Ted and walked on, partly because he did not want to see or speak to him, and partly because he could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

  ‘Archie, Archie!’ called Ted.

  ‘Just keep away from me, Ted,’ Archie replied.

  Ted hurried up behind him and grabbed Archie’s shoulder, but again he brushed him off. ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Ted, ‘really I am. I never thought for a moment that Mac would give us the chop.’

  ‘Why didn’t you, Ted? Why the hell not? He said he would. You only have to look at him to know he means what he says. Why the hell d’you think I was so against it? Because I knew this was what would happen.’ He strode on, out of the main building and towards the Mess, conscious that Ted was still following. He wished he could be on his own for a bit, that he could get away from Ted, but they both had to pack their things; there was no avoiding it.

  Archie could hardly bear to look at him. He had never felt so angry with another person before. The humiliation. The shame! Apart from that one time he’d been caned, he had never really been in trouble. It wasn’t in his nature, and now this … Given the chop from the squadron he considered to be something of a second home.

  ‘Archie, please,’ said Ted, sitting dejectedly on the bed. ‘I honestly never thought this would happen, really I didn’t.’

  ‘Then you’re more stupid than I thought,’ snapped Archie.

  ‘Look on the bright side, at least we won’t have Mac breathing down our neck any more. And at least we’ll still be flying Spitfires. I know 337 aren’t on Hurricanes.’

  ‘I like Mac,’ said Archie. ‘He’s a good CO who knows his stuff. And I like 629 Squadron. I was proud to be part of it. To be in the City of Durham Squadron.’

  ‘But 337 Squadron is a permanent squadron in the RAF, Archie – it’s got real fliers in it, Cranwell boys, probably. 629 Squadron has been good for us, I agree, but Mac was right, it’s full of weekend fliers. In a way, going to 337 Squadron will be a step up.’

  Archie turned on Ted. ‘No, it isn’t, Ted! We’ve just been given the chop! I was happy about moving to Middle Wallop – but Biggin Hill! We’ll be in the front line there all right.’

  ‘Good – then we can bag a few more.’ Ted opened the posting letter Mac had given him. ‘We’re not expected until tomorrow. What shall we do? Go and see my people?’

  ‘I don’t know, Ted,’ said Archie, closing his case. ‘You go. I think I want to be on my own for a bit. I might book into the RAF Club.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Archie, don’t be like that. All right, I admit it, I’m sorry to be saying goodbye to 629, but it’s not the same squadron any more anyway. Fitz has gone, Dix, Will, Dennis and the others. Mac might know his stuff, but he’s hardly the spirit of 629 Squadron, is he?’ He looked at Archie. ‘Anyway, I think we should be given a pat on the back for taking out all those Jerry machines, not given the damned chop. If that’s Mac’s attitude, then personally, I’m glad we’re being posted.’

  ‘I’m going to say goodbye to the others, Ted,’ said Archie. ‘I’ll see you at Biggin tomorrow.’

  ‘What? Don’t I even get a lift into town? Come on, Archie, what’s got into you?’

  Archie sighed and picked up his case. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said.

  ‘Well, fine, then. Be like that,’ said Ted
. ‘I thought we were friends.’

  ‘It’s because we’re friends that I followed you to France, Ted,’ said Archie, opening the door. ‘I’ve been given the chop because of being friends with you.’

  ‘I told you to go back. I never made you come.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You know perfectly well I wasn’t going to let you go on your own.’

  ‘I would have been fine. You came because you wanted to. And anyway, where would you be now if it wasn’t for me? You might not even be a fighter pilot. Don’t forget it was because of me that you joined 629 Squadron in the first place.’

  Archie glared at Ted, then shut the door and walked away down the corridor. He had never felt more miserable in his life.

  The others wished him well, said they were sorry he and Ted were leaving, and promised they would all meet up again one day soon. For the second time that day, Archie thought he might cry, which would have made the situation worse, so he tried to speak as little as possible, just shaking their hands and mumbling ‘Good luck’ to them all.

  Soon after, he was speeding down the Western Road towards the centre of London, his flying helmet and goggles on his head, wearing his Irvin and flying boots, with his case strapped to the back of the Norton. He cursed Ted. It was not true – he had gone because he knew he couldn’t let Ted go on his own. If anything had happened to him, he would never have forgiven himself. And, yes, it was true that Ted had helped get him into 629 Squadron, but that didn’t mean he was indebted to him for ever more – and certainly not now. Not after Ted had got him the chop! The chop! Sent away from the squadron! He still couldn’t quite believe it had happened. After Dunkirk, he and Ted had been the top scorers in the squadron, the golden boys. Now they had been thrown out in disgrace – and it was disgrace, no matter how Mac liked to paint it.

  There was a spare room at the club, even though it was a little more than Archie would have liked to spend for a night’s board and lodging. And having reached his room and put down his case, he suddenly felt at a loss as to what to do. Perhaps a sleep, he told himself – God only knew, he hadn’t slept much the night before. Taking off his flying boots and jacket, he lay down on the bed, arms behind his head, and closed his eyes. Sleep, however, eluded him, and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he didn’t want to be on his own after all. Perhaps he’d been too hard on Ted. Perhaps his friend had had a point. He had definitely not wanted to make that Channel dash, and had certainly only done so because of his loyalty to Ted, and yet, if he were being truthful, he had found it an exhilarating experience. All those machines knocked out! It had been quite something. He could see why Mac had felt he had no choice, but perhaps he could have given them another chance. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t see why he had been sacked too – not after what Ted had said – and yet the squadron would most certainly not have been the same without him. He rolled on to his side and wondered whether perhaps he’d spoken too hastily earlier. He had thought he wanted to get away from his friend, not to see him for a while, but now that his anger had started to cool, he wished he had gone to the Tyler home in Pimlico. What am I going to do until tomorrow? he wondered.

  Perhaps he would go down to Biggin straight away, but, then again, he had his room at the club now. He wondered whether maybe he should ring Ted and possibly try to patch things up. But maybe it was a bit too soon for that; he would see him tomorrow. They could resolve their differences then.

  Suddenly he had an idea. Sitting up again, he unpacked his black shoes then headed downstairs to the phone booth. Lifting the receiver, he was put through to an operator.

  ‘Yes, hello,’ he said, ‘please could I have Whitehall 921.’

  ‘It’ll be a few minutes,’ said the operator. ‘Are you willing to wait?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Archie stood there in the wooden booth, drumming his fingers. Several minutes passed, but then a voice said, ‘Putting you through now.’

  He heard a click, then a ringing tone and eventually a voice said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that you, Tess?’

  ‘Yes, who is – oh, Archie, it’s you!’

  ‘Yes, and I’m in town. I was wondering, would you let me take you out to dinner tonight? Are you free?’ He had his fingers crossed, praying.

  ‘Archie, yes, I am, and I’d love to. Where shall I meet you?’

  Yes! he thought, then said, ‘I can come and find you.’

  ‘No, I’ll come to you. Are you with Ted?’

  ‘Er, no – no, I’m not. I’ll explain later. How about the RAF Club, then?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll be there about seven-thirty.’

  Archie said goodbye and rang off. Already, he could feel his spirits rising.

  After all, it turned out to be quite a good afternoon. He wandered up Piccadilly, then went to see a film – His Girl Friday, starring Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell – which made him laugh and did much to take his mind off things. Then he went to Foyles and bought a couple of paperbacks – an Agatha Christie and a Jeffery Farnol, both of which he hoped would be a good distraction, then ambled back to the club. There he had a cup of tea in the library and started his Poirot novel. Then a good soak in the bath and a quick walk in Green Park across the way, and then it was almost seven-thirty. Life did not seem quite so bad, after all.

  And it improved dramatically when he saw Tess bound up the steps and come through the revolving door into the hallway. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she hurried over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  ‘Hello.’ She smiled. ‘What a treat!’

  ‘Gosh!’ said Archie. ‘You look – you look lovely, Tess.’ He could feel himself blushing. She was wearing her WAAF uniform, and it showed off her trim figure, while her face looked more beautiful than ever. She clutched his arm.

  ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘The Criterion.’

  She laughed. ‘Very spoiling! That sounds wonderful, Archie.’

  She held on to his arm as they ambled slowly back up Piccadilly. Archie had undone the top button of his tunic – the unofficial mark of a fighter pilot – and walked with his back just that little bit straighter. He was conscious that a number of passers-by seemed to notice them – a young, handsome couple, he with his wings and cap at a jaunty angle, she a bright and really rather beautiful young WAAF. His anguish and humiliation of earlier seemed to be melting away.

  ‘So have you been given some leave at long last?’ she asked.

  ‘In a manner of speaking.’

  ‘And Ted?’

  ‘Yes, Ted too.’

  ‘Then why are you paying for a room at the club? You know you’re always welcome in Winchester Street.’

  Archie looked down. ‘It’s a little complicated,’ he said.

  She looked up at him. ‘Try me.’

  ‘I’ll tell you in a while,’ he said. ‘First I want to know who you’ve seen at the Air Ministry. Has the PM been in again?’

  ‘No, but I did see Anthony Eden the other day. He’s terribly tall and good-looking.’ She talked on and then they had reached Eros at Piccadilly Circus, although they could not see the statue at all as it was boarded up, with sandbags around the base.

  At the door of the Criterion Archie paused to let Tess go first, then took a deep breath and followed. He had never been to a restaurant as smart as this. Mac had told him and Ted they needed to grow up; well, he felt more grown-up already, taking a girl to dinner somewhere as smart as this. He glanced up at the ceiling, a dazzling mosaic of shimmering golds and blues, and then they were being ushered to their table.

  A waiter gently eased Tess’s chair in as she sat down. Starched white cotton napkins were draped across their laps and he was handed a wine list. Archie looked down the list. He liked wine, but had rarely drunk it; certainly, he knew nothing about it. Which to go for? He suddenly remembered the film he had seen earlier. Cary Grant had ordered two glasses of champagne and then asked, casually, what the waiter recommended.


  ‘Hm,’ he said, in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. ‘Two glasses of champagne, please, and which red would you recommend?’

  ‘It all depends on what you are going to eat, sir.’

  Archie was stumped by this. ‘I tell you what,’ he said, ‘we’ll come back to the wine when we’ve had a look at the menu.’

  The waiter bowed graciously and glided off.

  ‘Champagne! What a treat,’ said Tess. ‘I wonder how much longer we’ll be able to drink it.’

  ‘I just thought we should. It’s not every day I have the chance to take you out to dinner.’

  ‘I know,’ said Tess, leaning towards him conspiratorially, ‘but the Criterion is terribly grand. I’ve only been here once before, and that was for Pops’ last promotion. I do hope this won’t clean you out.’

  Archie smiled. ‘I have to admit the Air Ministry don’t exactly pay well, but I’ve not had much cause to spend it, really. My Mess bill didn’t amount to much, all things considered. Anyway, I’ve never been here before and I’d rather spend what money I have when I can. And on someone I want to spend it on.’ He felt himself redden again and looked down, worried he had been overly forward, but Tess smiled at him and took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘Well, thank you, Archie. It’s lovely to see you. Lovely to have you to myself for once.’

  They were silent a moment. Archie could feel his heart thumping. Was this dating? Was Tess now his girl? The waiter arrived with the champagne and two menus.

  Tess raised her glass and gently chinked it against his. ‘So, tell me,’ she said. ‘What has happened? Is Ted in trouble?’

  ‘Why, is he usually?’

  Tess rolled her eyes. ‘Always! Haven’t you discovered that yet? He was expelled from two schools, you know.’

  ‘Two? He kept that pretty quiet.’

  ‘Mama and Pops despaired of him, but then Pops offered to get him flying lessons if he promised not to get in any more trouble, and so he knuckled down for a bit and even got a place at university. He’s older now, so he gets away with things. I’m amazed he didn’t get thrown out of flying training, but then he does really love flying.’