1915 Fokker Scourge (British Ace Book 2) (22 page)

“And how is your son now sir
?” None of us had asked those questions before in case the answer upset the colonel but he smiled.  “He is at home with my wife. He is recovering and so I will pay back the squadron for the time I was absent. I owe it to them.”

Small things
, such as an early leave, have the most amazing effect on morale. Already happier now that we had wooden walls and warmth the younger officers became like giddy schoolboys.  I found myself watching their antics with the Major and Captain Marshall.  It did not seem five minutes since I had been a young boy with the Yeomanry behaving much the same as the lieutenants were.  The war was over a year old; I felt like I had aged much more.

Poor Gordy came back bouncing and full of joy at having had Christmas with Mary. His excitement was punctured like a barrage balloon when he discovered that the rest of us were off on leave.
He would be left alone with his two younger officers.

I travelled with the other officers as far as London.  We made surprisingly good time
and reached London by early afternoon. I discovered that the only train which would get me home was a slow train which would only reach home in the early hours of the following morning. I decided to stay overnight in a hotel. The paymaster had just paid us and I was feeling flush.  I decided to head down to the better end of London; towards Piccadilly and Mayfair. I would have a good night in a luxury hotel. I took a taxi from the station.

The cabbie was a typical Londoner; he complained nonstop about the traffic, the politicians and the conduct of the war. If he was running things, he had assured me, then the boys would
soon be back from the trenches. I got out at Green Park somewhat relieved to be away from his barrage of vitriol. I was standing on the corner and lighting my pipe when I heard the honk of a car horn. I looked down and saw Lord Burscough pulling out of the Ritz’s garage. Ignoring the honking horns the major leapt out of his Singer and pumped my hand.  “Bill! Damned glad to see you.  Where are you off to?”

“The colonel gave us a week’s leave
so I was heading home.  The only train gets in at two o’clock in the morning and I was going to get a later train tomorrow.”

He grabbed my bag and hurled it into the back seat with his. “Well this is a fine thing.  You will come with me.  I can get us home quicker and you can spell me with the driving.  Hop in!”

The major was always impulsive.  I found myself next to him as we hurtled northwards on the A5. He chattered on nonstop.  He had much to tell me. I discovered that Major Hamilton-Grant had been sent back to train pilots.  I was not sure that was a good thing but, I supposed, it was better than having him risk their lives in combat. Lord Burscough also had a short leave for he was to take command of a new squadron flying a new aeroplane called the DH 2.

“It is very much like the FE 2.  It is a pusher but there is no gunner.  It is single seater.” He had sounded, briefly, sad, “Those damned Fokkers cut my boys up pretty badly.  The Bristol was no match for them.
I know you chaps did pretty well against them.  How many kills do you have now?”

“Six Fokkers and another two captured or shot down.”

“An ace! I am honoured.  I only have seven myself.  Still with this new bus I reckon we can turn the tide. “

“Is it faster sir?”

“A little but it is smaller and that means a smaller target for the Fokker. The other thing is I will be able to turn and loop without worrying about throwing out the old gunner.” He laughed and we both remembered how I had had to hang upside down from the guns when one pilot had tried that manoeuvre with me as a gunner.

I relieved him at the wheel and we thundered up the empty road.
We almost flew along the black strip of tarmac. It was hairy in places as there were wet patches on the road but we managed to keep up a good speed of between fifty and seventy miles an hour.  The major managed the seventy; I was more conservative during my stints behind the wheel. Four and a bit hours after leaving London he pulled up outside the cottage.  The glowing lights inside looked welcoming.

“I’ll be going back myself
in five days.  Shall I pick you up?”

“If it is not too much trouble
, sir.”

He laughed, “You are good company and we do it far faster.  Enjoy your leave!”

His roaring exhaust and screeching wheels brought my dad to the door.  “What the…” when he saw me his smile spread from ear to ear, “Mother, it’s our Bill, he’s home!”

There is something about walking through your own front door; it is an experience and a pleasure like no other. Memories of growing up, comfort and food all intermingled.  I saw the welcoming fire and mum in her rocking chair knitting. Dad’s seat was empty and next to it sat our Sarah looking as though she had eaten a whole goose for Christmas.

She went to get up. I held up my hand. “I think you might need a crane there, our kid.  Don’t get up!”

I went to hug her, “You cheeky little so and so.” As I pulled away she said, “But I am glad to see you.”

I went to mum and hugged her. I felt the salt tears on my cheeks but her face was filled with joy. She just stared at me and Sarah said, “Don’t you look smart in your captain’s uniform.  You’ll be fighting the girls off with a stick, our Bill.”

“
Chance’d be a fine thing.  The nearest we get to a female is if one of the farmer’s cows strays close to the airfield!”

Dad laughed as he resumed his seat. “Sit down
, son.  We’ll have a chat and then we’ll go down for a pint!”

“Father he’s only just got home!”

“I know mother, but I want to have a nice sit down and chat with one of my sons and have a pint if that’s all the same to you.”

It was rare for my dad to be so forceful and mum just sniffed and said, “Well it will give me time to get some tea on then.”

She began to rise and I said, “Let’s sit and talk for a bit.  It’s good to be home.”

I knew I had said the right thing when she beamed and our Sarah nodded her approval.

“Was that Lord Burscough’s car we heard?”

“Aye dad, he picked m
e up in London and we drove here straight away.  The alternative was a train which didn’t get in until the middle of the night. He’s giving me a lift back so I have five days here.” I began to fill my pipe.  “How long then our Sarah?”

“Any time. I’ve had a few twinges.”

“Where’s our Alice, I thought she would have been here to help?”

Mother’s face darkened, “That little madam will be gallivanting about.  She has taken to going into Liverpool with her mates of a night.  She’s changing!” I saw her put her handkerchief to her face.

“Now then mother, it is just a phase.  She’s all right is our Alice and when she knows our Bill is home she won’t go out as much.” Our Sarah was always the peacemaker.

“Well I hope so.”

Dad had his pipe going, “Our Bert is over there now, you know.”

“Aye, I met him.” The relief on their three faces showed me just how much they worried about both of us.

“When?”

“The first time was just before the battle and the last time was a week ago.  He and his Engineers built our quarters.”

“He’s safe then?  We heard a lot of Engineers died at that battle.”

“No
, he’s fine and he’s a Lance Corporal now.  You wouldn’t recognise him.  He’s grown a lot. The war does that to you.”

“Aye we know.”

“Mrs Burns’ son, Harry, he died at Loos.”

Our Sarah nodded.  I noticed that she was knitting all the time we spoke, “
And Gerald, the under footman, he joined up and lost both his legs too.” She shook her head, “He should have stayed at the house.  What will he do for a living now?”

I couldn’t answer and I knew that whatever I said would not make them feel any better. 
I knew she was thinking of her husband, Rogers, the butler and what would happen if he was in the army. I had no good news to give them. Things would only get worse.  It was better that they did not know the horrors of the front.  Whatever they imagined was a pale shadow of the harsh reality.

Dad stood, “Well get your coat and let’s go. The lads’ll be pleased to see you again.”

Mother said, “Don’t you want to change, you know, into ordinary clothes?”

“Our Bill is a hero.  It said so in that paper.  Let them see he is serving his country.

As we strolled down the lane to the village he said, “Our Sarah is wrong you know. It is every Englishman’s duty to fight these evil Germans.  I wasn’t happy that Bert went but that was only because of his age.  But I am proud of both of you. There are lads older than him and they are making a nice living here in the village and not risking their lives.  It’s not right and I tell them!”

I could imagine that.  Dad was a real patriot. England, the King and Queen and his lordship; they were his world.

It was a cold evening and our breath formed clouds before us.  The glow from the pub drew us like moths to a flame.  I saw other men strolling for a Friday night in the pub. When the door opened we were hit by a wall of beer fumes, smoke and human sweat. It was a unique mix and I had missed it.

As soon as I entered I took off my greatcoat.  I was about to take off my hat when Dad said, quietly,
“Leave it on, son.  You look smart. When we were recognised there was a roar from dad’s cronies.

The landlord grinned and said, “Welcome home captain. The first drink is on the house!”

One of dad’s mates said, “Tight bugger! For a hero it should be drinks for everybody.”

George, the landlord, pointed to the moaner and said, “When you shoot down German aeroplanes then you can have a free drink.”

It was a pleasant hour we spent in the pub.  I was bombarded by questions. They came at me as fast as a Fokker’s machine gun. They had all heard of the Fokker Scourge.  The newspapers had been filled with stories of British pilots falling foul of this new German weapon of terror.

“It is only temporary.  Things move quickly in the air.  I daresay we have some engineers devising an aeroplane even better than theirs. It’s the way things go.”

That seemed to please them.  “Anything the Huns can do we can do better.  They aren’t even a proper country and their king is Queen Victoria’s grandson! She’ll be turning in her grave.”

That began a whole heated debate about the rights and wrongs of the Royal Family and the Germanic connections. I sensed that dad was getting upset, “I’m starving.  What say we get a couple of bottles from the outdoor and have them with
our tea?”

He brightened. “George, a couple of bottles of brown ale to take out.”

“Are you off already? Don’t mind this lot Bill.  I‘d like to hear more about your flying. We didn’t have aeroplanes in my day.  We just fought the Boers with rifles and cannon.”

“I am home for five days.  I daresay I will be in again.”

“Good.”

I put the bottles in my greatcoat pockets and we left.  The snow had started to flurry. It was always the same in January.  We never got a white Christmas but you could guarantee snow in January. The frozen flakes on our faces made us hurry, as fast as dad could manage, to reach home.

There was a wonderful warm smell when we entered the house.  Mum had made a rabbit casserole. She smiled when she saw we had returned relatively swiftly. “It’s still got another hour to go but our Sarah made some fresh bread before and I have some nice butter we made yesterday.  That’ll go well with a bit of cheese.”

I was home and th
at meant that mum waited on me hand and foot. I took off my boots and my tunic and loosened my collar. Dad poured me a beer and I happily ate fresh bread, homemade butter and some cheese made on the estate. Life did not get any better than that. When the food was ready I wolfed it down.  Beer has a way of giving an appetite.

It was
after nine o’clock when Alice arrived home.  I was dozing by the fire and I was woken by angry voices.

“What time do you call this young lady?”

“It’s only nine o’clock and I was the first one to leave!” I stood and turned. Alice gave a squeal and threw her arms around me, “Our Bill! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?”

“If you had been in you would have known!”
Alice flashed mother an angry look. 

“I didn’t know but I am home now for five days.”
I hugged her.  She had grown into a pretty young woman.  The last time I had seen her she had been little more than a school girl but now she was dressed in smart, fashionable clothes and I could see that she wore make up. No wonder mum was not happy.

“Good. Let me get my coat off and you can tell me all about it.”

I sighed.  This would be the third telling of my life as a pilot.  Despite the harsh words mum went for a plate of the casserole and Alice ate, at the table while I recounted my exploits.  I decided I would get more beer from the pub the next day.

I did not get to the pub the next day.  I was woken in the early hours of the morning by a scream and a shout. I leapt out of bed, catching my head on the door as I rushed to see what the problem was. Alice was standing there in her nightie. “Our Sarah has gone into labour.  Put the kettle on, our Bill.”