The Professionals

by Max Hennessy

  The weather was awful with a lot of cheerless drizzling rain, and our first patrol was a disaster. Bull led four men across the lines in the tight formation we’d practised and only brought two back. One of the missing men turned up later but the other had disappeared over the German front line and had never reappeared. Bull said they’d run into a group of DVs and that what the Camel pilots had said about them was right – dead right. The Pups were no match for them.

  The patrol that followed was also pounced on. Pups were useless at the heights at which the DVs operated and the only chance for them was to stay as high as they could, but there had been an RE8 in trouble below them and they had had to go down and take their chance. No one was killed but two machines had crash-landed near the trenches and their pilots began the long walk back to where the tender could pick them up.

  ‘It’s those tight formations,’ Bull said bitterly. ‘That bigwig from London didn’t know what he was talking about.’

  So we went back to the old loose formation which gave us more room to manoeuvre.

  The first day’s patrols seemed to have been an initiation because for some time after that we got off scot free and began to consider ourselves lucky. Despite the DVs, with the new Camels and the new SE5s and triplanes and a new two-seater called a Bristol Fighter, the Germans were growing less brave than they had been in April and we were slowly beginning to wrench back the initiative. We began to gain a little confidence and felt that, given some decent aircraft, we might even be able to share the excitement.

  But nothing happened, though the rumours that we were getting Camels continued to multiply.

  ‘Any day now,’ Bull said.

  ‘How do ye know, mon?’ Munro demanded.

  ‘A chap told me.’

  ‘Which chap?’

  ‘A chap I know in the other squadron.’

  ‘Who told him?’

  ‘A friend.’

  ‘An’ Ah suppose he was told by the cook’s assistant who was told by the tender driver’s mate.’

  Bull became indignant. ‘It’s true!’

  ‘Och, Ah’ll believe it,’ Munro said, ‘when yon first Camel drops doon on this field.’

  That night there was a lot of noise over to the east and we stood outside the mess hut staring towards the horizon. The sky was flickering with hidden flashes that lit up the trees in silhouette. You could see the light playing on the watching faces, and the whole sky seemed to thud and rumble in a way that was hard on the ears.

  ‘Push’s started,’ Sykes said, standing with his hands in his pockets, his face serious.

  ‘Hope it’s a wee bit more pushy than the last one,’ Munro said. ‘Where’s it heading?’

  ‘Up the Menin Road, I believe.’

  Munro stared at the flickering horizon. ‘Ah wish the bluidy war were over,’ he said suddenly in a lost lonely sort of way.

  The following afternoon, orders came from Wing for an immediate squadron-sized patrol to support the infantry. The German aeroplanes were bothering them and we were supposed to go down low and clear the sky of them. I heard Sykes on the telephone, protesting bitterly.

  ‘It’s damn’ silly,’ he was saying. ‘The last time this squadron did one of those, it had to go home to be reformed. The fighting takes place too low down for us. Pups haven’t a chance at that height.’

  Headquarters had made their minds up, however, and were not accepting excuses and he came out of the office frowning. ‘Wish some of those fools would come up here and have a go themselves,’ he said. ‘Expect it was thought up by some frightful little pipsqueak who’s related to the general and got a job on his staff. I’ll be doing the leading.’ He reached for his helmet and scarf. ‘A cheval, messieurs,’ he said. ‘To horse.’

  ‘Hoots,’ Munro said, without much enthusiasm. ‘The mon speaks French.’

  As he turned away, I stepped in front of Sykes. ‘Lulu,’ I said. ‘You’re supposed to stay here.’

  He smiled. ‘Couldn’t ask chaps to do what I wouldn’t do myself.’

  ‘Lulu—!’

  He interrupted quickly. ‘You’re going. Why shouldn’t I?’

  We climbed steeply eastwards, wondering what was in store. I could remember the last shambles of a squadron-size patrol, and we were all a little nervous, especially me and Bull and Munro who’d seen what had happened last time. But Sykes had been calm and untroubled and his demeanour helped to give confidence to the newcomers who were probably unnerved by our grumbling.

  ‘As a C.O.,’ he’d said cheerfully to me as we’d pulled helmets into place and fastened our buckles and belts and dragged on gloves, ‘you not only have to be brave, you have to be seen to be brave.’

  As we approached the lines, the anti-aircraft guns opened up on us but as usual they did no damage. Down below the whole front seemed alive, and I could see shell bursts along the whole line, the grey smoke drifting eastwards from them. Every road leading to the trenches seemed to be full of lorries or troops in column trudging doggedly east between the trees, and here and there in front of the wire we could see little groups of white faces among the mud and water as advanced parties of soldiers struggling forward through the morass stared up at us.

  There was a lot of scrappy grey cloud about but no aeroplanes as we searched for half an hour in the murk for the Germans who were supposed to be worrying the infantry. The sky was as empty as the inside of a goldfish bowl, however, and I was just looking forward to going home when suddenly, in that way aeroplanes have of appearing unexpectedly from nowhere, even in a clear sky, I saw a group of dots sliding across in front of us and just above. Then I saw another group heading towards them from the opposite direction and a third climbing up to attack. Where they’d come from Heaven only knew because a moment before the sky had been a void of blue space and scattered cloudlets and now it was full of machines. Up in front it was already literally dotted with them, like a flock of starlings coming in of an evening to settle in the trees, and as we drew closer, I began to feel the old sensation of mingled fear and excitement and found myself shifting nervously in my seat to make sure I was comfortable for whatever was going to happen.

  Orders had sent us over the lines far too low and we were badly placed for safety. A big fight had already started ahead of us, while above us a small group of Camels and Albatroses were swinging round and round. One of the Albatroses dropped out of the fight as we arrived below it. It had a long streamer of white vapour coming from his petrol tank and he was only fifty yards away when there was a sudden tremendous flash and the whole machine burst into a ball of fire. I saw the pilot drop clear and wondered why no one considered producing for pilots a small edition of the parachutes balloonists used. He dropped straight in front of me as the machine seemed to vanish into small pieces, leaving only a puff of smoke hanging in the air with a few fiery streaks dropping away below.

  We hadn’t a chance of climbing up to the scrap above so Sykes plunged with us into the main scrum. But already, the fight – as such fights always did – was attracting other formations. There were already so many aeroplanes about it must have been possible to see them from miles away, and as fast as one lot dropped out of it, their petrol exhausted, another lot joined in. Even as we reached it, I saw something flash past me that looked like a flying venetian blind and wondered what on earth it was.

  Then it dawned on me it was one of the triplanes I’d heard of and for a moment I thought it was one of the new Sopwiths the Naval Air Service had got hold of. But then I saw it had crosses on it and decided it must be a captured one, until I realized it hadn’t a British look about it and had the aileron extensions which seemed to be a hallmark of the Germans. I fired at it as it slipped past but it went up like a lift, leaving me standing in the slower Pup, and in no time at all our formation had broken up and we were fighting for our lives.

  I saw a Pup go down, its rudder fluttering loose behind it, and another dropping like a stone with about three Germans after it, then I found I was try
ing to throw off about five of them. Splinters flew from the centre section struts and I saw fabric begin to flap. The windscreen flew to pieces and I thought my last moment had come as I kicked frantically at the rudder bar, skidding wildly about the air, trying to keep out of the stream of bullets and at the same time avoid collision with other aeroplanes and take snap shots at anything with crosses on that appeared in front of me. The war had suddenly become dangerous, I found myself thinking wildly. It had seemed bad enough in the days of the Fokker menace the year before but now it wasn’t such a hit-and-miss affair as it had been then, with a touch of heroism about it and romantic with old-fashioned ideas about nobility and honour. It had suddenly become nasty and messy and dangerous.

  I kicked hard at the rudder and fired as a triplane slid in front of me. I didn’t think for a minute I’d hit him but suddenly his wings snapped back, almost as though they’d exploded and the fuselage went down like a spent rocket stick with the wings floating down behind it in great swoops like falling leaves.

  I didn’t have a chance to stop and stare because there were three Germans still on my tail and the Pup seemed to be falling to pieces about my ears. It was impossible to circle because there was always one of them waiting to fire at me as I came round, and the machine was in such a mess now that I knew I would never dare dive at full throttle. A wire was loose and clattering against a strut, and then the air speed indicator exploded in my face and I saw holes on either side of the dashboard and wondered how on earth they’d missed me.

  It seemed to be all up with me when I saw another Pup come hurtling from nowhere between me and the Germans, and I saw it had Sykes’ streamers on it. It came so close across my tail the Germans had to swerve away and I managed to escape and draw breath. As I swung round, flat against the air, I saw that they had now all fastened on to Sykes’ tail, and threw the machine over in a roll to go to his help. But his dive, with the Germans following him, had carried him away from me, and I had to fight off a triplane that got in the way, and when I saw him again he was low down, well to the east of the German lines, with the three Albatroses still following him.

  The fight seemed to have broken up now and the machines were scattered all over the sky in ones and twos, most of them heading for home, their petrol spent. I dropped down in a wild dive after Sykes, praying the Pup would hang together and that I’d get to him in time, but even as I watched I saw his top wing start flapping loose and he went into an uncontrolled spiral down towards a small copse of trees near Wahagnies about five miles behind the German lines. The Albatroses, certain of the victory, had drawn off and he was allowed to go down alone.

  ‘Oh, God, Lulu,’ I shouted. ‘No!’

  But the Pup ploughed into the trees and I saw their branches wave wildly as it disappeared and, as I roared over it, pulling out of the dive, I saw no sign of life. I swung round, wondering if I could possibly land and pick him up, but then I saw a flash of flame that seemed to reach high above the trees. The Germans had vanished now and, sick at heart and suddenly full of a sense of emptiness and futility, I turned for home.

  The engine was missing badly, the machine trailing wires, the wings looking like sieves, so that I found I couldn’t manoeuvre. I struggled over the trenches, indifferent to the odd bursts of fire that were directed up at me, but a knocking had developed in the engine by this time and I thought I was never going to get back. I limped into Bayeffles barely flying. Most of the Pups appeared to be down already but I was too miserable to be bothered to count them. As I turned over the end of the field the engine spluttered, coughed and died and I realized the petrol was finished and I was going to have a job to get in. But I made it, though something had happened to one of the wheels and the machine stood on its nose. For a moment I was surrounded by twanging wires and creaking woodwork and tearing fabric, then it dropped back on its tail and rocked there twice before settling.

  I didn’t even bother to climb out. I knew it wouldn’t catch fire and just sat there in the cockpit, limp with exhaustion and misery, thinking of Jane and the way she’d looked when I’d last seen her at the engagement party.

  I could feel the warm air from the engine flowing round me but there seemed to be no feeling in my arms and legs, and a mechanic’s head appeared, his face anxious. ‘You all right, sir?’

  I nodded indifferently and began to climb slowly out of the cockpit.

  ‘Who’s missing?’

  ‘Captain Edwards, sir. He was seen going down behind the German lines.’

  ‘Anybody else?’

  ‘Mr Munro, sir. And the C.O., sir. He’s not back yet.’

  ‘He won’t be,’ I said. ‘He was killed by some pipsqueak at Wing who’s related to the general.’

  ‘Sir?’

  The mechanic was staring at me, bewildered, and I waved him away and trudged to the office to make my report.

  It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. Munro rang up. He’d crashed just behind the trenches and was once more making his long walk home. Edwards had crashed just behind the German line but Bull had seen him scramble clear and wave, so at least he wasn’t dead. There was no news of Sykes, though – only that stony empty silence that usually meant death.

  I didn’t want to talk to anyone and walked on my own across the field to get used to the idea. How long I took I don’t know but when I got back, Longford said there was someone coming over from Wing to see me.

  He arrived an hour later, a tired-eyed young man with wings and a string of ribbons, and I hastily revised my attitude towards the staff. This one at least hadn’t got his job through influence.

  ‘I hear Lulu’s gone west,’ he said, and because of the name he used I suddenly wondered if he were a relative or an old friend.

  ‘Yes. That squadron patrol they insisted on.’

  He nodded. ‘None of my doing,’ he said. ‘I hear you’re senior captain again.’

  ‘Just,’ I said. ‘Edwards went down with Lulu.’

  He looked unhappy. ‘This is awkward,’ he pointed out. ‘It’s the second time it’s happened. You’ve been at the job long enough now to take the show over, of course, but they’ll never give it to you.’

  ‘Worst of being a babe in arms.’

  ‘Yes. That’s what they’ll say.’

  We seemed to be struggling for words. He tried again.

  ‘They’ll be sending a new chap down eventually, but for the time being you’ll have to manage. Think you can run the thing for a while till he arrives? He’ll be a good chap, I promise. I think Lulu deserves a good successor.’

  ‘There were a lot of things Lulu deserved,’ I said. ‘But this wasn’t one of them.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Well, that’s the way it is. You can ask for a move, if you wish, or you can stay here under the new chap.’

  I couldn’t imagine Munro and Bull without someone to look after them. ‘I’ll stay here,’ I said.

  ‘Splendid.’ His heartiness was forced, then he paused. ‘I’m sorry about all this. Damned sorry. I gather you and Lulu were pretty close.’

  I don’t know who’d told him – Sykes, I supposed. ‘That’s right,’ I agreed. ‘We were.’ Of course we were. We’d both fallen for the same girl. That always made you close, especially if the girl was Jane and the lucky man was Sykes.

  When he’d gone I went into the mess. Munro had arrived. He was covered with mud after his trudge from the trenches and hadn’t even bothered to take his flying boots off. His hair was still flattened by his helmet and his hands were scratched as though he’d had to scramble through barbed wire. He was knocking back a double whisky and he eyed me expressionlessly.

  ‘Ah’m aboot tae get drunk,’ he said.

  I managed a smile, and accepted the cigarette he offered me with a shaking hand.

  ‘Bad habits, laddie,’ he warned, a hint of a smile appearing.

  ‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘Bad habits.’

  ‘Ye should try getting drunk.’

  I looked up at him. ‘Well, I’
ve never done it before,’ I said. ‘In fact, not long ago I didn’t even drink. But tonight I think I’ll join you. Move over.’

  * * *

  The medals they’d given us for the Gotha came through the following day but they were meaningless because nothing had been heard of Sykes and I had to face the fact that he was gone. I tried for two or three days to write to Jane, to tell her how he’d drawn the fire of the Germans who’d been trying to kill me, but somehow I didn’t seem able to make sense. Eventually, Longford dropped a letter on Sykes’ desk where I was going through the reports, returns, records, the problems of replacements and repairs, and all the worries of the NCOs. It had occurred to me several times that only two years before the only thing that had concerned me was how many runs I was likely to score in a school cricket match.

  I read the letter through. It was quiet, tasteful and intelligent – sympathetic and encouraging at the same time.

  ‘It’s a sort of standard thing we always write,’ he explained. ‘You can add anything personal you fancy.’

  I delayed as long as I could and rang all the forward observation posts in the hope that something had been heard. But nothing had and the man from Wing telephoned to say nothing had been heard there either, so eventually I had to believe it, and I sat down and copied out Longford’s letter and added a few limping, clumsy phrases of my own that had no hope of expressing what I felt.

  Munro was in my tent when I went back to it. He looked tired and depressed.

  ‘Yon offensive speerit the newspapers are always talkin’ aboot,’ he said. ‘It’s never mentioned by those who have tae fight.’ He tapped his injured legs with his walking-sticks. ‘It was all right the first time,’ he said. ‘Now Ah always remember how they hurt me.’

  He pointed at the roof. ‘It’s not up there that worries me. It’s doon here – afterwards – when Ah start tae shake and ma hands go dry.’

  What he said was right, and I wondered what it would be like when it had all ended. All the standards by which we’d lived would be swept away then and be replaced by others of which we knew nothing. We’d be like fishes out of water.