JET LAG!

by Ryan Clifford

  Todd’s father, the AVM, was also very busy. He had been spirited away by the Prime Minister – in the utmost secrecy – and taken to meet the main players in the coming battle. Of course, Churchill guessed that AVM Morrissey had more than a passing interest in the war going on in 1940, and it was now that he planned to wheedle out as much information as he could. He re-introduced Morrissey to Dowding, Park and Leigh-Mallory who were running the fighter forces in the south and east of England. However, Morrissey had to be careful. His degree was in engineering and he had a good knowledge of events during what was to become the Battle of Britain. If he gave too much away – or indeed anything - how might his intervention affect the future? He had resolved to interfere only when he reckoned that the 1940 men were about to adopt the wrong tactics. Churchill of course was not too happy about this but eventually agreed with Morrissey’s proposal. After all – he had little choice in the matter.

  So AVM Morrissey was confined to the custody of a still sceptical and distinctly unfriendly Air Chief Marshal Dowding for the duration, and would watch the progress of the fighting from Dowding’s HQ. The team at Middle Fleckney would see very little of him over the coming weeks.

  The issue of Mrs Morrissey, Todd’s mother, also came to the fore at this time. She knew damned well that her ‘other’ self was alive and living within twenty miles of Middle Fleckney. She also knew that little Constance was in a coma, and was becoming more and more agitated as the days passed.

  She had never revealed her secret plan to save her brother to her husband, and had not related the events of the previous week. Nobody ever discovered who had saved the boy in the woods that summers day. No trace of the mysterious woman was ever found.

  Eventually, Mrs Morrissey took to her bed at Middle Fleckney and as the days passed became frailer and frailer. Naturally, Todd and his father were terribly concerned but there was little they could do. Mrs Morrissey seemed to know her ultimate destiny, and appeared determined to resign herself to it despite whatever anyone else tried to do. Everything that was possible was done for Mrs Morrissey, and a full time nurse was drafted in to take care of her on a twenty-four hour basis. Todd visited her as often as possible and was saddened to see her lifeblood slip away. Eventually on the fifth of August 1940, Constance Morrissey slipped into a coma from which she was never to recover. Forty minutes later young Constance Andrews opened her eyes. Her nanny, Catherine, rushed to the bedroom door and shouted to Constance’s mother.

  ‘Ma’am, MA’AM, she’s awake. Constance has woken up!’

  The loop was closed.

  31

  German Luftwaffe HQ

  10 July 1940

  The plan to get Kesselring and his Luftwaffe to harry the British merchant shipping in the channel was working. The Bf109s were flying low to tempt the British fighters out to meet them. Soon both sides would run low on fuel and be forced to withdraw from combat. This allowed the Stukas to attack shipping almost unopposed. However, the British defenders were getting wise to the ploy. They also realised that if they tried to launch fighters on a one-to-one basis, they would soon run out of aircraft. Therefore they dispatched only small numbers of Spitfires in an attempt to break up the attacks, rather than be totally concerned with shooting German aircraft down. This worked well and even though the attacks by German raiders continued almost unabated, German losses were starting to mount. Also, the British Admiralty decided that shipping would only pass through the Straits of Dover under cover of darkness. However, RAF losses over the past three weeks had been high, and sortie rates for pilots were getting to breaking point. Furthermore, Churchill was desperately marshalling his forces to keep Hitler at bay. The Germans had publicly declared that they would be in London by mid-August. However, they had not reckoned for the secret weapon in Britain’s much depleted arsenal – Force 1992.

  Hermann Goering was managing the German jet project himself. Thirty Me 262s had been manufactured at great expense. Many of the best German technicians were allocated to this task and Goering had promised Hitler that the RAF would be destroyed within a matter of weeks. However, the mysterious loss of one of the ‘Blaue-Tod’ was worrying. Also, the incident leading up to the crash was curious. The German jet fighter had been tracking a fast moving object when radio contact had been lost with the pilot. Was it possible that the British had a jet fighter themselves? Certainly, German agents in Britain had reported nothing – but Goering was worried enough to take prompt pro-active action. He picked up the phone and called the German jet base in Denmark.

  ‘Galland, this is Goering – I have new instructions for you.’

  ‘Jawohl, Herr Reichsmarschall, please go ahead.’

  ‘You are to move the squadron immediately to a new base. Prepare the aircraft, aircrew, groundcrew and technicians. This has top priority. I will provide resources and the destination will be passed in code by courier. You must move before midnight tonight. No excuses Galland – get the job done.’

  Galland was mystified, but dare not argue.

  ‘I await your courier, Herr Reichsmarschall and he put down the phone. He waited ten seconds and then went into action.

  ‘Gefrieter! Get in here!’

  The startled NCO ran into the office.

  ‘Broeker, call an executives meeting for 1000 hours. All to attend.’

  As his admin assistant left the room, Galland sat down and contemplated the task ahead. The squadron had just formed and pilots were looking forward to their first real sorties against the RAF. Now this move. Perhaps it was to do with the loss of Muller the other night. Perhaps the British knew of their existence.

  Whatever, the move was on and he and his colleagues would have to react quickly.

  32

  Middle Fleckney

  1800 hours, 11 July 1940

  The final touches to the attack plan had been completed. The crews were in the mess having a light meal and generally chatting about the task ahead. If they could achieve one good, decisive attack on this airfield in Denmark, it would really help to equalize the opposing forces. As things stood the Germans could afford to carry on a war of attrition and very soon the RAF would run out of aircraft. If the German jet fighter came fully into the picture, the battle and the war would almost certainly be lost. Hitler could indeed be in London for August. The crews were nervous, but nonetheless very confident. The loss of their friends during the last mission had sobered everybody up, and from now on no-one was going to underestimate the task ahead.

  Todd was scheduled for his first mission. Stumpy would fill the front seat and his number two would be Klaus Jung and Jesse Green. They were a strong partnership and Klaus was especially keen to have a crack at the Bosch. His grandparents had both been killed by the Germans, so he was out for a little payback. Todd didn’t mind this at all – but decided that he would keep a wary eye out just in case Klaus got carried away. The Recce jet would be crewed by Harry South and Bob Walters. They were young but knew their trade and Todd realised that everyone would have to be involved at some stage – so why not blood them early?

  Todd’s relationship with Stumpy had improved markedly. The situation had brought out the best in Stumpy, and he had taken over the planning and operations load from Todd so that he, in turn, could deal with more important matters. An unspoken understanding had developed and Todd was happy to leave it at that – as was Stumpy.

  However, Todd’s relationship with the adjutant, Patsy Jackson, was in big trouble. Patsy was having great difficulty in making the transition to 1940’s Britain. Most evenings she sat in the makeshift bar in the officer’s mess and drank just a little too much. As was usual, the Hercules had been fill to the brim with duty free spirits, which allowed the Brits to have a drink in ‘dry’ Saudi Arabia. The access to plentiful amounts of Scotch encouraged her to ‘sound off’ just a little too much, and it wasn’t long before the aircrew were finding ways to avoid her company. She had turned up at Todd’s bedroom door in the mess several times – in the middle of
the night – and Todd had spent many hours consoling her, and although they were still having sex, the romantic side to the relationship was just about dead – and Patsy was having great difficulty in accepting that fact. She started to allude to people in the mess about her relationship with Todd back in 1992 – which forced Todd to make private denials – his father was particularly aggrieved by this development. This made familial relations even worse and Todd could see that serious trouble was brewing. The duty psychiatrist was pointed in Patsy’s direction, which relieved Todd a great deal. At least she would be crying on someone else’s shoulder instead of his.

  However, all of this hadn’t prevented Todd sleeping with Patsy several times during the detachment up to that point. It was done in moments of weakness, when Patsy was drunk, partially hysterical and Todd was vulnerable and lonely. They had sex, discretely, on and off in an effort to mollify Patsy and to try t keep her mouth shut in the mess. In fact Todd had to promise all sorts of things to keep her quiet, but this would all come back to bite them both in the backside within a few short weeks.

  ***

  At 2200 hours, Stumpy gave the start-up hand signal to the airman monitoring the engine start sequence for the lead Tornado. The take-off time had been calculated at 2215 – giving the two bombers fifty-five minutes to make their time on target. The Recce jet would be a couple of minutes behind all the way. Station Operations had confirmed that the Lincoln bombers had taken off on time and were proceeding as planned. The adrenaline was now starting to flow. Even though Todd had flown missions in the Gulf, that experience made it no easier. Todd was scared stiff inside – and to counter that fear he gave the impression that he couldn’t care less to those around him. He laughed and joked with groundcrew as they strapped him in, and made sure that he kept a smile on his face all through the planning stages. As it happened this was a relatively straightforward sortie. They would be back on the ground in just over two hours and they expected little trouble from the enemy. This surprise attack should catch the Germans with their pants down – and should provide the 1940’s RAF the breathing space they required.

  At 2205 the giant shelter doors started to open. The lights were turned off in the hangar to prevent prying eyes seeing too much. Todd had suggested that the entire mission should be carried out in complete radio silence. This would also prevent unauthorised ears hearing too much.

  Stumpy released the brakes and trundled forwards followed by the second bomber and lastly by the Recce jet. All of their lights were turned off and the cockpit lighting was at an absolute minimum. They taxied without incident towards the take-off point, by which time the hangar doors were already closed. The timing was perfect. As they reached the runway threshold Stumpy looked towards the ATC tower and he picked out a faint green lamp, which flashed twice to signify that the formation was clear to get airborne.

  A heated discussion had taken place when deciding if the three Tornados should take off together or singly. One argument suggested a formation take-off thus limiting the noise to about thirty seconds. The other side stressed the dangers of night formation take-offs, and considered that three launches at ten second intervals would only extend the noise by twenty seconds, and also reduce the intensity and volume.

  The stream take-off lobby won the day and so Stumpy taxied onto the runway on his own and rolled down the runway into the dark skies. As it happened it was a dank and misty night with low cloud, so a formation take-off would have been extremely tricky. About forty-five seconds later the third aircraft flicked his radio switch twice to signify that he was safely airborne – and the three jets started the climb to thirty-thousand feet. The noise exposure had lasted about one minute, and in fact no-one inside the hangar had heard anything more than a small rumble.

  Stumpy broke through the cloud at around seventeen-thousand feet and barely forty seconds later the Recce jet again gave the pre-arranged radio click to tell him that all three aircraft were out of cloud and nicely in formation. The crews had switched their navigation lights on to help with identification but decided not to use the flashing strobe. Although they were at high level they wanted to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.

  The transit to the target was uneventful and at seventy miles range to the airfield Stumpy clicked his radio twice to let the other two aircraft know that he was commencing his descent to the Danish island. The Recce jet had slipped back somewhat and started on the pre-planned manoeuvre to give themselves a two minute spacing from the bombers. Todd had identified the island on his radar and was double checking the weapons package selection in the back cockpit. The aim was to take out any aircraft in the open with BL755 cluster bombs and for Stumpy to strafe any targets of opportunity which the Lincolns had missed. The second bomber jet was going to target the single large aircraft shelter on the airfield and hope that their 4 x 1000lb bombs would make short work of it.

  As the two aircraft settled into their attack formation – line abreast at about five hundred metres and at five hundred feet above ground level (AGL) – Todd checked the watch and as he did so Stumpy let out a startled expletive.

  ‘Shee-it! Those Lincolns are making a right mess of the place.’

  ‘Smack on time,’ confirmed Todd as the explosions from dozens of bombs exploded on the small island which now lay five minutes and forty miles ahead at four hundred and eighty knots – attack speed.

  ‘Let’s hope that everyone’s still got their heads down when we get there.’

  ‘I just hope the explosions have died down,’ replied Todd. ‘We don’t want any fragmentation damage from our own side’s bombs.’

  Stumpy grunted and stuck his head back inside the cockpit to concentrate on the attack run ahead. Todd had consulted the Radio Altimeter and worked out the local barometric pressure so that they could align the main altimeter. This done, the crew went through their pre-attack formalities.

  ‘Going to Fix/Attack,’ confirmed Todd . ‘I’ve got the target and am going down the scales on the radar.’

  This meant that Todd was happy that he could see the airfield and was happy to convert the scale on the radar so that he got a clearer picture.

  ‘Three minutes, confirm MASS.’

  ‘MASS selected,’ responded Stumpy. This meant that the bombs were armed and ready to go live. Todd checked round his cockpit once again to ensure that all switches were made correctly. They were and he checked the clock once more.

  ‘Two minutes.’

  ‘Looks good, we’re pointing straight at the glow from the Lincolns’ bombs.’

  ‘Roger,’ replied Todd, ‘Late Arm.’

  ‘Roger,’ confirmed Stumpy, ‘Late Arm selected, looking good.’

  This meant that all switchery in the cockpit was correct and the bombs were armed, live and ready to go. All Stumpy had to do was to follow the cross provided by Todd in his Head Up Display and press the commit button on his control column at the appropriate time. This would release the bombs automatically and they should land where Todd was marking on the ground.

  ‘One minute, all switches made – it's all yours Stumpy, what can you see?’

  ‘I’ve got the airfield. It's pretty well lit up - fires everywhere. I don’t see any aircraft in the open though. Nothing, just one big building at the eastern end of the airfield.’

  All of a sudden the aircraft jolted hard right. Stumpy shouted, ‘I’m taking it!’ and flicked a switch which gave him control of the target aiming cross.

  ‘I can see the main hangar, the doors are open and I can see inside. I’m going for that!’

  ‘Roger,’ cried Todd, ‘but what about Klaus, he’s going for that!’

  Stumpy hit the radio.

  ‘Purple Two, abort run, cloverleaf and attack from the east. Bomb on my smoke.’

  Klaus Jung, in the other cockpit clicked his radio twice and immediately peeled off to the north-east. Jesse Green, in the back, checked his switchery, and re-selected the new target information.

  Meanwhil
e Stumpy had levelled the aircraft and was heading straight for the open hangar. He had descended to about three hundred feet - a fact which Todd was now monitoring very closely. It wouldn’t be the first time a pilot had flown into the ground suffering from target fixation.

  ‘There’s a load of ground equipment, vehicles and light aircraft out in the open. I’ll commit early so that we get the lot and the hangar. Right, committing now!’

  Todd felt the reassuring clunk of the weapon dropping away from the Tornado’s belly. Stumpy immediately pulled up and turned hard right back towards his track for home. As they levelled out at one thousand feet and came abeam the airfield they caught sight of the last of the one hundred and forty seven bomblets exploding in and around the main hangar.

  ‘Delta Hotel, I believe.’ shouted Stumpy in celebration of his apparently successful attack. The Recce jet would confirm or otherwise with their photography! (Delta Hotel or DH was the RAF code for a Direct Hit on a specific target).