Resigned to the situation, Dawson asked, "How did I get here?"
The Luftwaffe pilot put his hands on his knees in preparation to tell the story. Dawson noticed the man's hands were raw and swollen. Obviously in pain, the German remained calm and coolheaded. Even though the other pilot was considered the enemy, for some reason, Dawson was beginning to feel he wasn't a threat.
"You dropped into the water over there," the Luftwaffe pilot started to explain while pointing at the spot. "I could see your head bobbing in the waves. When your parachute fell into the sea, it started to drag you down. I paddled the raft over to you and unstrapped the parachute. Then, I grab your suit and pull you from the water. So we are here together now, yes?"
Dawson listened to the German's story. The last thing he remembered was jumping from his crippled Hurricane and hitting his head on the tail. As the memory slowly came back to him, Dawson lifted his hand to his aching head.
"When I bailed out, I hit my head on the tail of my plane," Dawson recalled. "Then I blacked out."
"Yes, your head. You have a very big bump," the enemy pilot replied.
After a long pause, the German wryly asked Dawson, "Are you not going to ask me how I got here?"
Captain Dawson looked into the soft blue eyes of the German officer. He already knew the answer, but preferred to avoid it. Dawson was confident the man was the pilot of a plane he shot down just before his own plane was hit. He worried that discussing the situation might agitate the otherwise friendly German. Dawson decided it best to say nothing but simply wait to be rescued by someone. Hopefully, someone English.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CALL FOR HELP
Harry raced back down the path, across the airfield and into the Operations Building. Without even a knock at the door to announce himself, the twelve year old burst into Colonel Harrison's office. Inside, Captain Simms stood over Harrison's desk while the Colonel was talking to someone on the telephone.
Startled by Harry's abruptness, Captain Simms turned and glared at the boy. Putting his finger to his lips, Simms signaled for Harry to be quiet. Meanwhile, Colonel Harrison argued with the person on the other end of the phone line.
"I want my pilot back!" Harrison barked into the receiver. "I want Captain Dawson picked up now!"
Colonel Harrison gripped the telephone tightly, expecting a response. Suddenly, he shouted, "Wait!"
Looking defeated, the Colonel sat down in his chair and mindlessly tapped the phone in his hand. Finally he hung it up and stared at Captain Simms.
"I'm sorry, Andy, Coastal Command is under orders. The Germans have at least thirty U-boats operating in the English Channel right now. It's too dangerous. They won't send anyone to pick up Dawson until the threat from those submarines is gone."
Simms turned around to face the Colonel, revealing Harry Winslow at his side.
"Harry," the Colonel snapped, "what are you doing here?"
Harry shrank back from the terse tone of Colonel Harrison. Noticing the fearful look on Harry's face, Harrison realized he was being too hard on the young boy. Knowing how close Harry was to Captain Dawson, he started to apologize.
"I'm sorry, lad. Keep in mind that Dawson's all right, just a little wet floating about the channel. But, I must admit, we're having a time of it trying to get him plucked from the water."
Harry straightened up and replied, "I understand, Colonel. The whole English Channel is swarming with German submarines right now. Susan told me."
Impatiently, Captain Simms suggested, "Try again, Colonel. Perhaps we could go to someone higher up at Fighter Command this time."
"Andy, I've already tried the Air Vice Marshall! I've also called Coastal Command Headquarters and even some of the local fishing boats. It's just too dangerous out there. I don't know of anyone else who can help us."
Harry stepped to the front of Colonel Harrison's desk. "Colonel, I know someone."
Captain Simms and Colonel Harrison looked hard at young Harry. Then the two RAF veterans eyed each other, wondering who Harry could possibly know with enough influence to order the rescue of Captain Dawson from the English Channel.
Harrison crossed his arms over his broad chest and asked, "Who do you know that can help us, lad?"
Harry swallowed and nervously answered, "My father, Trevor Winslow. He works in the Intelligence Service. I'm sure he would try to help."
Colonel Harrison's jaw dropped. Astonished, Captain Simms just stood there looking at Harry. Harrison struggled to regain his composure.
"You mean to tell us that your father is Trevor Winslow? Sir Trevor Winslow of the British Intelligence Service?"
Harry felt a little uneasy at the way Colonel Harrison was asking about his father. "Well..., yes sir, that's my father."
Then Captain Simms knelt down and asked the boy, "Do you know what your father does in London?"
Harry shook his head and answered, "Not really, but I think he knows a lot of people in the government. Maybe they could help."
Simms turned and looked at Harrison. The two men were speechless.
"Harry," Colonel Harrison explained, "your father, Trevor Winslow, is one of the Prime Minister's chief advisors. If anything were to happen to Mr. Churchill, your father would most likely become the new leader of England."
Harry was amazed. He knew his father worked with the government, but had no idea how important he was.
"Then he really can help us," Harry replied. "We must call him right now."
Colonel Harrison picked up the phone and dialed the number for Trevor Winslow's office in London. A secretary answered.
"Would you please tell Mr. Winslow that Colonel Harrison is on the line?" Harrison asked.
The secretary curtly replied, "Colonel, Mr. Winslow is in a meeting. I will tell him you called."
Harrison frowned and barked into the phone, "But this is a matter of life and death."
"Colonel," the secretary argued, "there's a war going on. Every matter is one of life or death. I'm sure Mr. Winslow will get back to you within a couple days."
Before Colonel Harrison could respond, there was a click and the phone went silent. Mr. Winslow's secretary had hung up. Unsure of what to do, Harrison looked at Simms and Harry. Sheepishly, he tried to explain, "She said he'll call back and then hung up the line."
"Ring her up again," Captain Simms immediately suggested.
Harry nodded his head and added, "Colonel, this time tell her Sir Harry of Hampton is calling."
Doubtful a silly nickname would bear any weight, Harrison reluctantly dialed the number once more. When the secretary picked up the phone, he demanded to speak with Harry's father.
"This is Colonel Harrison again. I must speak to Mr. Winslow."
"I'm sorry, sir," the secretary apologized, "but Mr. Winslow is in a meeting with the Prime Minister, Mr. Churchill. I can't interrupt them."
Harrison quickly replied, "Would you please tell him Sir Harry of Hampton is on the line."
"Sir Harry of Hampton?" the secretary asked. "Of course, sir. Please wait one moment, Colonel."
Colonel Harrison was amazed at the abrupt change in the secretary's temperament. Before the Colonel could catch his breath, there came a voice from the other end of the telephone.
"Harry? Is it really you?"
Startled, Colonel Harrison quickly handed the phone to Harry.
"Father? Are you there? I need your help."
Excited to hear his father's voice, Harry clung to the receiver with both hands. Brought together by telephone, the two Winslows began to talk.
"Harry, how are you, and Susan, and your mother?" Mr. Winslow asked.
"We're fine," Harry replied. "But we need your help. Captain Dawson has been shot down over the Channel, but Coastal Command can't pick him up."
"There's a lot of enemy activity out there right now, Harry. I've been tracking it for days," Mr. Winslow explained. "The Germans have made it quite dangerous for everyone."
"But Dad," Harry plead
ed, "Captain Dawson is out there."
A military intelligence officer, Mr. Winslow was well aware of Captain Dawson's reputation as an exceptional and valuable Royal Air Force pilot. He was also aware of Dawson's special friendship with Harry.
After a brief pause, Mr. Winslow replied, "I understand, Harry, I'll try my best."
Harry nodded his head, comforted by his father's help. Then he asked, "There's another thing. Erin's father has been missing in North Africa for three days. Can you find out what's happened to him?"
"Bentley is missing? I'll make some calls and try my best," Mr. Winslow replied.
"One other thing," Harry hesitantly added. "Can you come home? I..., I mean, we all miss you so much. Remember, it's your anniversary. Could you take a holiday and come home? It would mean so much to mother."
Mr. Winslow struggled to explain. "Harry, I would like to come home, but Mr. Churchill and the rest of our lads need my help. Besides, I can't look into those other matters and come home at the same time. I'm sorry, but you'll have to tell me what is most important."
Harry thought for a brief moment. The vision of his mother's wedding dress, and the sacrifice she had made ran through his head. He worried about Captain Dawson drifting in the English Channel. Then he thought of Erin's father missing in the African desert. Harry desperately wanted to see his father, but he knew his friends needed Mr. Winslow's help even more. A sacrifice had to be made.
"Pick up Captain Dawson and find out about Erin's father," Harry said. "Those are the most important things to do."
"All right, Harry. I'll try my best," Mr. Winslow replied. "I have to go now. Tell your mother and sister I love them. And as for you, young man, you make me very proud. Always remember I love you, too."
Harry nodded his head and smiled at his father's words. Listening to the click of the phone hanging up on the other end, he suddenly felt lonely. Reluctantly, Harry handed Colonel Harrison the receiver. It was hard for him to let go of the line that had carried the voice of his father.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HELPING HANDS
Over eight hours had passed since Captain Dawson bailed out of his crippled Hurricane and was saved from drowning by the German pilot. Soaking wet, the strong breeze and cold water chilled Dawson to the bone. It was impossible for the men to stay dry while the churning waves of saltwater washed over the sides of the small rubber raft keeping the two enemy pilots afloat.
Still dazed from his head wound, Captain Dawson struggled to stay awake. Even though the German officer saved his life, Dawson felt it wise to remain wary. Trying to keep his wits about him, he searched for something to talk about. Then Dawson noticed the burned hands of the Luftwaffe pilot. By the way he was holding them, it was clear the man was in severe pain.
"Can I help you?" Dawson asked, looking at the swollen hands.
"The ocean salt has proven most painful," the German winced. "But I have no medical supplies. Not even a bandage to cover them."
Dawson thought for a moment. Quick with an idea, he grabbed the silk scarf from around his neck and pulled it from his flight suit. Careful to keep the fabric clear of the saltwater, he started to rip the special gift from Mrs. Winslow into long strips. After tearing the scarf in two, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small canteen of fresh water.
Cautiously, Captain Dawson reached for the German's hands. The wounded pilot reluctantly allowed Dawson to hold his puffy fingers and blistered palms. In order to wash away the salt, Dawson slowly poured some water from his canteen over the burns. Biting pain caused the German to pull back. But, as the fresh water washed away the salt, the sting started to fade.
Dawson wrapped the lengths of silk torn from his scarf around the German's burned hands. Gently, the English pilot tied the ends of the strips to secure them. His pain slightly relieved, the German officer smiled at Dawson and relaxed against the side of the raft.
"Why do you choose to help me so?" the Luftwaffe pilot asked.
"The same reason you saved me from drowning," Dawson replied.
The German pilot looked at Dawson sternly, "I saved you because I am an officer in the Luftwaffe! I don't just watch people drown without helping."
Dawson shifted, trying to sit up, "I am an officer in the Royal Air Force. I don't sit and watch people suffer without helping."
The two men sat quietly, each considering what the other had said. Finally, the German broke the silence.
"Perhaps... Perhaps we are not that different after all."
Dawson nodded his head and politely introduced himself. "I am Captain Ted Dawson. Thank you for saving me from drowning."
The German pilot looked at Dawson. "I am Captain Gerhardt Mueller. Thank you for your help. My hands, they are no longer in such pain."
The men started to talk with each other, slowly at first. After a while, the two pilots were exchanging stories about growing up and learning how to fly. Alone in a raft, far away from home, it was easy for Dawson and Mueller to forget they were enemies.
Another hour passed, and the two downed pilots anxiously bided their time. Waiting to be rescued from the cold sea was hard enough. Worrying about who would retrieve the raft first made it even harder. As the sun slipped lower on the horizon, both men started running out of patience and hope.
Suddenly, the choppy water around the raft started to boil. From beneath the waves a large black object pushed its way to the surface. The moment both men had been waiting for was upon them. Just twenty yards away, a submarine was surfacing. The downed pilots were being rescued, but neither man could identify the rescuers.
Breathless at the sight of a sub rising through the waves, Dawson and Mueller watched and waited. When the coning tower of the submarine cleared the water's surface, the markings painted on the side boldly identified its origin. Dawson's heart pounded and his stomach churned when he realized it was a German U-boat.
Captain Mueller looked at Dawson and said, "It looks as if I have won our little bet, yes?!"
Water washed from the deck, and saltwater sprayed from the ballast vents of the German submarine. Dawson's heart sank. He knew he was only minutes away from becoming a prisoner-of-war.
Then, Captain Mueller did something most unexpected. Leaning toward Dawson, Mueller whispered, "Captain, you must lay still on the bottom of the raft."
Unsure of what Mueller was doing, Captain Dawson assumed it was a part of taking him prisoner. Reluctantly, he obeyed. The English pilot lay in the bottom of the raft, motionless.
With a hollow metal clank, a hatch on the U-boat opened. Through the small doorway, a group of German sailors and an officer stepped onto the deck and shouted for the attention of the survivors.
Captain Mueller called from the raft to his countrymen standing at the railing of the submarine. Responding to his request, they threw Mueller a rope and started to pull the raft to the side of the U-boat. While holding onto the line, Mueller pressed his foot against Dawson's chest forcing him to lay still in the bottom of the raft.
German sailors...shouted for the attention of the survivors.
The motion of the raft being pulled through the water and the tension of the moment caused Dawson's head to pound. When the rubber life raft reached the side of the U-boat, Captain Mueller shouted to the officer standing on the deck of the submarine. Dawson listened, but was unable to understand the conversation between the two Germans.
Captain Mueller climbed from the raft to the deck of the German sub. The Luftwaffe pilot and the ship's officer continued their discussion.
"What about the British pilot?" the submarine officer asked.
"Forget him," replied Captain Mueller. "He was practically dead when I pulled him from the water and is even worse now. He's not worth our time. Leave him to the sea."
"Yes sir," the German naval officer replied, and then ordered the rest of the sailors back through the hatch and into the submarine. While the U-boat officer motioned for the rescued pilot to follow him below deck, Captain Mueller
reached over to untie the raft from the sub. Now that Dawson realized Mueller's plan was to let him go, he was more than willing to play dead in the bottom of the raft.
Before Captain Mueller pushed the life raft away from the submarine, he whispered to Dawson, "The air and sea have been most cruel to us. Next time we meet, let us hope it will be on land where we can shake hands."
With that, Mueller set the rubber raft adrift. As the raft washed away from the U-boat, Captain Dawson lifted his head slightly above the side. He watched the German pilot climb through the hatch and close it behind him. Moments later, the sleek black submarine gently slipped beneath the ocean waves.
Captain Dawson was alone in the life raft. Amazingly, the German pilot had not only saved his life, but spared him from being taken prisoner. Floating in the choppy water, Dawson wondered if the silk scarf, the one he used to bandage the German's burned hands, had helped secure his freedom.
Although thankful to have avoided capture, Captain Dawson knew he was still in danger. Night was coming, and his chances of being rescued were fading with the daylight. If an English ship didn't find him soon, the odds were slim he would live to see tomorrow.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE HOMECOMING
Nighttime had fallen on Hampton County, and darkness shrouded the Winslow house. Behind the black-out shuttered windows, Harry sat in his room thinking of the day's events. He remembered the look on Captain Dawson's face when he handed him the silk scarf his mother made. Harry's heart sank at the thought of the brave RAF pilot stranded in the English Channel, perhaps lost forever.
Then Harry thought of Erin and how worried she was about her father. Remembering when he surprised Erin with the scarf, Harry's thoughts drifted to his mother's ripped wedding dress and the sacrifice she made. He desperately wanted to help his friends, but felt helpless. The sad situation was making this the worst day of his life.
Dawson's Down! Page 4
