Lovers in Enemy Territory (21 page)

He was ushered into the conference room and immediately recognized General Gort, Mr. Alexander, Mr. Lloyd and General Auchinleck, top men in the department. The meeting was even more important than he realized. When they were all seated, General Gort stood up.

"Gentlemen, good morning. I've asked you to assemble on a moment's notice so we can be briefed in detail on the situation around the Gibraltar Straits. Lord Harley sat in on the meeting we held with the Prime Minister in Commander Norwood's place last week, and he advanced some of the theories written up in the Commander's dossier.

“But I felt that specific points brought up made it necessary for us to hear from him in person. His son has been seriously ill, so we've waited until now to hear from him. He has a real grasp of the problems, so without further ado, we'll hear from him now." He turned. "Go ahead, Commander."

Jeffrey nodded and took his place by the map which was an up-to-date picture of the enemy's air power throughout the Straits. "Gentlemen," he began, thinking that one bomb dropped on this building could wipe out the entire leadership of Britain's air power.

"In March I was asked to go on a mission to Gibraltar and ascertain our air strength as compared to the enemy's. As you know, since the outbreak of the war we've used the London flying boats based on Gibraltar to ferry important dignitaries between England and the Mediterranean area. They've also had a workout escorting convoys passing southward.

“We haven't been too worried in the past about increasing our air power there because of the obvious reason that the fighting was centered elsewhere, but now the situation has changed drastically. The Bay of Biscay is crawling with Germans, here, here and here," he demonstrated on the chart.

"The French fleet is in harbor, and our men are skirmishing with Luftwaffe at least three times a week." Some of the men raised skeptical eyebrows. "This, gentlemen, means that escalation of enemy air power has begun in this part of the world. I recommended in my reports that we triple our defense posts in West Africa or we're going to lose the fight in the Mediterranean.

“We can’t afford to leave Malta unprotected from this end. The Germans have grasped the entire coastline of Europe. Franco hasn't catapulted his country into the war yet, but Spain has become a stronghold of German bases, the extent of which is still unknown. Franco's December meeting with Mussolini was up to no good, we all know that.

“I don't think we even begin to know what we're up against. I'm not at all sure that tripling our air power in that region will be sufficient. We know Spain is mass producing ammo and parachutes for the Third Reich, but that is nothing compared to what is happening in their harbors.

“The area is inundated with U-boats from Lorient and Bordeaux, but they can't all be stationed in French ports alone. Those U-boats can turn up anywhere in the Atlantic and come after one of our convoys, and with our air power at current strength, we don't have the resources to stop them. And worse, there are pillboxes stretching from Algeciras to the Pyrenees.

"Establishing bases in West Africa is the answer in my opinion. And that’s tricky as well with the Vichy French, but I see no other choice. I know that there has been some question about the necessity of extending the Coastal Command war zone further south into Africa, but I assure you, if we don't, we're in big trouble.

“The build up of the enemy in Spain has me worried. I took in a squadron in March and set up a base of Sunderlands. We camped on the edge of a mosquito swamp. That part of Africa is inhospitable at best, but we were able to manage it. Later, we put up another base at the mouth of a river. We got together the necessary ground staff and were in full operation within a week, and none too soon. Our men sank two U-boats within three days of being there."

He stopped to allow the men to digest his words. "I’ve advised we get more aircraft in there, and I've suggested the Hudson. It's a medium fast land-aircraft, capable of carrying a sufficiently heavy punch to deal with the U-boats. A few squadrons of those at newly erected bases will even up the odds down there. Again, that’s assuming we can get the Hudsons. In the meantime our Sunderlands are doing a Herculean job."

Jeffrey sat down and the men conferred for a few more minutes. Finally General Gort stood up. "Commander, we'll get you those Hudsons and anything else you need. Tomorrow you can take off with as many squadrons as you can put together and set up bases. Think it’s possible to do it in three weeks time?" Jeffrey nodded. "An important convoy will be coming through the Straits then."

One of the staff raised a question. "Commander, I overheard one of your crewmen saying that during your recent mission to Gibraltar, you improvised a very fine oil filter. What did you use?"

Jeffrey laughed quietly. "Toilet tissue, Sir." A roar went up from the men, followed by applause.

"We're sorry you couldn't get those split pins and lubricants requested."

"They arrived, Sir, just a touch behind schedule, but it really didn't impede our progress. Squadron leader Dudley came up with a unique idea for the hydraulics. Homemade ground-nut oil. The men are resourceful."

"That's how we're making it through the war. Sounds like our boys, Commander. And now, to get to the heart of the matter. Your intelligence reports about Spain have given us a few more gray hairs. We need detailed information about enemy activity there. Commander, we’re asking you to do some reconnaissance work for us on this mission.

“We want proof of what Franco is up to. We want you to tell us anything you can about the movement of neutral and enemy surface and underwater craft. We need reports indicating troop movement, construction of new aerodromes, the number and type of aircraft on existing aerodromes, and the location of new U-boat bases along the coast line.

“This hasn't been your usual line of work, Commander, but we need an expert and we know you can spot ship nationalities, recognize deck cargo, classify type. We need this information as soon as you can send it to us on the teleprinter. When you’ve established bases and things are in running order, we would like you to penetrate as deeply into Spain as you can, particularly the mountain areas.

“Use charts, camera pigeons, anything, but we need that information. I realize what we're asking of you. There's nothing the Jerries love more than taking on a British aircraft flying in low for a good look. I hope you've got a photographic memory.

“There’ll be times when you won't have a chance to jot down a note. Up to now, the information being fed to us hasn’t been adequate, and I'm sad to report that some of the reconnaissance crews never made it back to

base to report a few weeks ago."

Jeffrey realized he had his work cut out for him.

"You know that area better than anyone, Commander. You've lived out there. In anticipation of this mission, we've assembled the best wing commanders and reconnaissance pilots in the business. They’re in the war room now. You can begin briefing them on the new tactics immediately. Good luck.” They saluted.

He shook hands with them before leaving the room. Lord Wyngate followed him out. "Excellent presentation, had them eating out of your hand. It's too bad you couldn't have talked to them last week. Those Hudsons would be on their way by now, but with Michael ill, that was impossible. I'm sorry you have to leave with Michael barely back from the hospital."

"He'll be all right. Phil’s there with him." He paused. "Elinore is divorcing him. Did you know?"

"Yes ... she told me herself. Sorry for that. It won't be easy for Philip."

"He seems to be getting along amazingly well, actually."

"And you?" he looked at the Commander and noticed his pale countenance.

"I'm all right."

"I've known you too long to believe that! If it isn't Michael, then it must be a woman. We've been friends for years. Out with it!"

Jeffrey smiled tightly. "I'm in love."

"I thought so. Who is she?"

"Believe it or not, she's a nun."

Lord Wyngate was visibly shocked. "You don't mean the Sister that came to take care of Michael?"

"Yes. Sister Catherine."

"Is there any hope? Knowing you as I do, I can't imagine your failing to win her over."

Jeffrey sighed. "You don't know her. I'm not sure if she even wants to see me again, and she won't see me unless she’s free."

His brows furrowed. "I'm deeply sorry about this, Jeff. Under the circumstances, this mission might be just the thing to get her off your mind."

"I doubt anything could do that. Phil took Michael to visit her at the convent today. He should be back in London tonight. I was hoping to talk to him before I left for Africa. Perhaps he’ll have a message for me. I pray to God he does."

"Do you want to phone Philip from here?" It was against the rules, but he held Jeff in great affection and the man was obviously suffering.

He grinned at his good friend. "I was hoping you'd ask that.”

"I'll arrange it now before I leave for Whitehall. Just tell the man in communications to clear number four when you're ready. That's my line."

"Thank you very much. I won't forget your kindness!"

"Not at all, my boy. Affairs of the heart are top priority! And Jeff, good luck!" Lord Wyngate saluted and left.

Jeffrey went into the war room to brief the men who’d een handpicked for this important mission, but his heart wasn’t in it. He almost dreaded hearing what Phil might have to tell him. It had been ten days now, and there was still no news. The Holy Mother insisted Catherine was still in retreat and had told her nothing. What if she decided to remain there?

"Gentlemen, some of you who were with me in March complained about the heavy action building up around the Gibraltar Straits. Well now we're going to do something about it!"

A cheer went up from the men and a few whistles.

“We're going to set up three new bases at strategic spots along the West African coast line. Some of you will still be carrying on escort duties and watching for U-boats in the Sunderlands, but the rest of you will go out on sorties with the Hudsons. Several squadrons of this American aircraft will build up our defense power appreciably, and we can penetrate even deeper south if necessary."

Another rousing cheer broke forth from the men.

"One hitch. They want these bases in working order in three weeks time. I say we can do it in a fortnight!" Again, the cheers.

"For the rest of the day we're going to get our ground staffs together, and make lists of supplies, the works. Then I want everyone of you to have steak and eggs before retiring. Get your sleep ... you're going to need it. We take off at 0400 hours.

“There are only eight Hudsons available to us now, but more have been promised. You eight will have to refuel in Gibraltar. The rest of us in the Sunderlands will make the long stretch in one hop and commence setting up camp. I have the three locations for the base sites sketched out here. If there are no questions, let's get to work."

During the next six hours, an elite wing command force was being put together under Jeffrey's careful scrutiny. Despite the urgency of the business at hand, he was preoccupied and glanced every so often at the clock. He wondered if Phil had gotten back to Mayfair.

"Commander?" Someone had been calling him for the last few seconds, but his mind had been on Catherine. He reddened noticeably when one of the officers poked him in the ribs. "You've put a note here

to remember pumps. What do you mean by that, Sir?"

"If you go down in your plane, you've got to get those dinghies inflated. If one pump goes, you'll have a hell of a time on your hands trying to inflate it. These are shark infested waters. I know because I played footsie with one a while back. I don't have to tell you that an inflated dinghy looks mighty good at such a time. I want every man equipped with a pump, just to make sure. It will

save lives."

"Right, Sir."

"There's going to be some reconnaissance flying, men. I don't know how many of you have done much of that sort of thing, but there are times when you feel very alone once you're off that runway. You've got a long way to go before you feel good old terra firma again. You're on your own.

“Your strength is in yourselves and in the aircraft. Many times there will be no one to help you out of a tough spot. Sometimes you won't have any cloud cover for an entire mission, particularly now with summer upon us. If you have to ditch in the sea, don't let your hearts fail. That's what the dinghies are for.

“I've experienced it several times. I know you chaps feel your chances of survival are slim. In fact, it is a standing joke that our type of aircraft might float for thirty seconds, but the manufacturers won't guarantee it." The men laughed loudly. "Seriously, keep your minds off forced landings at sea. Don't think about it. That's the way to approach it.

“This work is a strain, and borrowed worries add to it. Just remember why you're out there, and what it is all about and you'll make it. It's been said that the heart of the air force is the spirit of its airmen. I believe that, but its limbs are its aircraft. We've got good planes, and we're expecting more. Take meticulous care of your planes, and they'll take care of you. I can testify that this is so. And remember something else. God is on our side!"