by Max Hennessy
It must have been late in the afternoon when I awoke. Marie-Ange’s head was on my shoulder but she started to wakefulness immediately when I moved.
‘Soon is it time to walk again,’ she said.
The drizzle had stopped but there was a lot of cloud and it seemed chilly with the damp of the low-lying fields. The farm seemed deserted but somewhere not far away I could hear a woman’s voice and the sound of wood being sawn.
No one came near us, however, and we slipped away in the dusk and began to head north again. Sykes was walking well but I found the big boots Marie-Ange had found for me were heavy and beginning to rub my heel.
‘You are limping,’ Marie-Ange said.
‘It’s having such big feet,’ Sykes said mercilessly. ‘More to rub.’
That night was much colder than the previous one and the wind was blowing from the west again bringing with it the thud of guns and a hint of more rain. We still had about sixty kilometres to go and I was already tired.
Through my mind a whole host of thoughts were running. I was making up a brave little farewell speech for when we had to leave Marie-Ange behind. I wasn’t looking forward to it but I felt I had to put on some sort of show to make her realize how grateful we were and how pleased I was that I’d met her. It all seemed a little inadequate, however, and as I tried to improve on it the speech grew in my mind into an oration in which I made it clear how brave I thought her, how intelligent, how beautiful, and how delightful when she laughed, and I wondered if I ought to accompany it with a chaste kiss. Sykes, I thought, might even have the grace to turn his back for a while so that I could put my arms round her and make a proper job of it for a change.
She seemed to sense something was troubling me and after a while, she touched my hand as though to encourage me and we walked hand-in-hand in the darkness. But walking hand-in-hand belongs to warm evenings and strolling across fields, not slogging heavily in the damp night air, and we soon reverted to the steady trudge, one foot after the other, left, right, left, right, left, right.
I was walking head down, indifferent to the flickering western horizon and not really thinking about anything, when Sykes, who was just in front, stopped so suddenly I crashed into his back. I scraped my nose on the buckle of the haversack he was carrying and cursed him.
‘Shut up,’ he said sharply.
‘What is it?’ Marie-Ange demanded.
‘Look,’ Sykes said, jerking a hand.
It was only just possible to make him out and when I looked through the darkness to where he was pointing all I could see was what looked like the end of a large building among the trees.
‘It’s only a barn,’ I said.
‘Is it?’ Sykes said. ‘Look to the left a bit.’
We were in a small depression at the time, where the road ran between higher ground on either side. My eye moved to the left and I saw a pair of parallel lines against the sky – and V-shaped struts between them. And then a shark-like nose and a propeller.
‘Aeroplanes,’ I breathed.
‘German aeroplanes,’ Sykes agreed.
Marie-Ange looked agitated. ‘We must not to stay here,’ she said. ‘There will be guards.’
Sykes took her arm and pulled her into the shadow of some low shrubs. ‘Where are we?’ he demanded.
‘This is Phalempon. The village is over there.’
Sykes drew a deep breath. ‘Marie-Ange,’ he said. ‘This is as far as we go.’
She looked puzzled. ‘Je ne comprends pas.’
‘I have a better idea than going by boat. Let’s fly back.’
‘In an aeroplane?’ I said.
‘I hadn’t thought of feathers.’ Sykes jerked a hand and we moved forward to the rising ground, and crept slowly up it. Lying flat in the damp grass at the top, we could see a wide space and more aeroplanes which had been invisible from the lower ground. What I had thought was a barn was a canvas hangar.
‘Albatros DIIIs or DVs,’ Sykes said. ‘Couldn’t we fly ’em?’
‘No!’ Marie-Ange’s reaction was vehement. ‘This is not good!’
For once I didn’t agree with her. What Sykes was suggesting made sense. ‘Marie-Ange,’ I said. ‘Instead of taking all night to sneak past the German patrol boats, it’ll take only half an hour.’
‘See any guards?’ Sykes asked.
In the distance across the field I could see lights but no movement. ‘I’ll bet they’re there all right,’ I said. ‘They told me when they caught me it’d be no good trying to grab an aeroplane.’
‘One of us might,’ Sykes said. ‘If we start something at opposite ends of the line.’
We spent the next few minutes arguing fiercely over the merits and demerits of Sykes’ idea. Marie-Ange obviously didn’t like it. She knew nothing about aeroplanes and she gripped my hand fiercely as we talked in low voices.
‘You will be shot!’
Neither of us was listening to her now, though. Our minds were racing with the possibility of what lay in front of us.
‘We couldn’t fly an aeroplane off on a pitch-black night,’ I said.
Sykes gestured. ‘We’ve flown in the dark,’ he said. ‘Both of us.’
‘We’d be better leaving at first light.’
Suddenly the plan seemed foolhardy, but Sykes prevailed and we agreed to scout round the field. Marie-Ange was unhappy about the whole thing. Her mind seemed full of foreboding and she was anxious to get away before we were found. But Sykes had got the idea firmly fixed in his head now and we decided to move round the perimeter away from where the lights lay.
‘It’s hopeless,’ I said after a while. ‘The machines are all too close to the huts. We’d be safer in a boat.’
Marie-Ange looked hopeful but Sykes pulled a face. ‘Always seasick,’ he said. ‘Rotten sailor.’
I didn’t believe him because I knew he had his mind set on doing the job by air. But it seemed impossible to steal an aeroplane from in front of the hangars and after a lot of arguing we decided to spend the rest of the night among the bushes at the end of the field farthest from the huts and hangars and watch what happened the following day. Marie-Ange fought fiercely against it. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It is bad. It is much dangerous.’
I thought so, too, but we found a spot in the bushes to hole up in and crouched together in a huddle. Against the growing morning light, Sykes’ face had a bleak eager look.
It was cold and I found I kept breaking into uncontrollable shivers, but I knew it was nothing to do with the night air. Marie-Ange seemed suddenly calm, however, as though she had decided to argue no longer.
As we waited for morning, we could hear the guns muttering away to the west and see the flickering lights against the horizon that indicated the front line. After a while I noticed that the sky behind us was growing paler.
‘Fun’ll start soon,’ Sykes said. ‘The early morning boys’ll be off and we’ll be able to see what happens.’
More lights were appearing now by the hangars, one of them bobbing among the line of aeroplanes. A square of yellow appeared, as though someone had opened a door.
‘Gone for their hard-boiled eggs,’ Sykes said.
He seemed altogether too flippant about the whole thing but I knew it didn’t mean anything. He was probably as nervous as I was and was trying to hide the fact. Then suddenly, the silence was split by the roar of an aeroplane engine starting up.
‘We’re off,’ Sykes said. ‘Warming up for the early patrol.’
Marie-Ange was crouching silently beside me and, glancing at her in the growing light, I saw there were tears on her cheeks.
‘Why, Marie-Ange?’ I asked. ‘Why?’
She shrugged, in a peculiarly Gallic gesture. ‘Because you are much brave and silly,’ she said.
Another engine started up. ‘Expect it’s the same at Bayeffles,’ Sykes said.
‘I wish I were back there,’ I commented without thinking, and saw Marie-Ange look quickly at me.
Another engine started and I could see th
e field taking shape now and the dark blocks of the huts and a thin streamer of smoke rising into the sky.
‘Any minute now it’ll be daylight,’ Sykes said.
I had been silent and listening and I gave him a jab. ‘Dry up,’ I said. ‘Listen!’
He cocked his head and caught the sound I’d heard – the faint hum of aeroplane engines.
‘Somebody up early,’ he said.
‘Yes. And what’s more, they’re coming this way.’
Automatically, I put my arm round Marie-Ange’s shoulders and pushed her closer to the ground. There was a long pause. The low hum was still audible but across the field where the hangars were it had clearly not yet been heard above the clatter of the morning duties, the clink of spanners and the noise of metal panels being removed, and the squeak of carts carrying ammunition belts.
A dog barked and I felt so tense I thought I was going to choke.
The hum of aeroplane engines was growing louder now and suddenly the men at the other end of the field woke up to it, too. There were staccato shouts and I saw them starting to run. Almost at once we heard the snarl of engines approaching from beyond the trees at tremendous speed and the sudden clack-clack of machine guns.
I grabbed Marie-Ange and thrust her down into the bushes.
‘For God’s sake,’ Sykes was saying furiously. ‘It’s the Navy!’
Four black triplanes were coming over the trees at the far end of the field and I saw the earth erupt near the huts as bombs fell, then a second later the triplanes were howling past our heads.
‘The swine!’ Sykes roared furiously, pounding at the top of the bank with his fist. ‘They’ve done it across us! They’ll double the guards now and we’ll never pinch anything.’
The triplanes were turning in a steep bank now a quarter of a mile away for a second run across the field. One of the huts at the far end was blazing and in the growing daylight I could see men running. Then I saw that one of the Albatroses had got away and was moving towards us down the field to get into position for a take-off into wind. It was a grey-and-green machine with a large letter K on the fuselage just behind the Maltese Crosses.
‘Damn them!’ Sykes said furiously, staring at the sky. ‘They’ve got the sea! What more do they want?’
The grey-and-green Albatros was still moving towards us, its wings rocking as its wheels rolled over the uneven surface of the field. Several more were following it but the triplanes were coming down again now. I saw a hut go up in a shower of planks and debris, then three of the moving machines were hit, one after the other. A bomb dropped alongside one of them and it flipped neatly over on its back and burst into flames. The pilot scrambled clear and began to run from the path of the other two, but another triplane screamed down, its guns rattling, and I saw him go head over heels like a shot rabbit and one of the following Albatroses bumped over his body and then that one was hit, too, and burst into flames. The pilot of the third machine also seemed to have been hit because he was careering about the field in an indeterminate way, and he finally crashed into the machine which had flipped over on to its back. I heard the crunch as he ploughed into the starboard wings, even above the crack of the bombs and the clatter of machine guns and the shouts across the field.
The triplanes had gone now, as suddenly as they’d come, and the grey-and-green Albatros was near the end of the field immediately in front of us, swinging round to take off after them, its propeller idling, as though the pilot were trying to make up his mind which way to go to avoid the debris scattered across the centre of the landing area. Suddenly I realized Sykes was struggling out of the haversack and thrusting it at Marie-Ange. Then he wrenched off the old coat she’d acquired for him and threw it down.
‘Now,’ he screamed. ‘Now!’
I knew at once what he intended and I swung round and kissed the startled Marie-Ange full on the lips. ‘Run!’ I yelled. ‘Get away from here as fast as you can!’
We didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye because she was already thrusting through the bushes away from the airfield while I was wrenching off the coat I was wearing and scrambling with Sykes over the lip of the rise to where the Albatros waited.
Chapter 10
It stuck out a mile that there was a chance for one of us to escape right there in front of us, because there seemed to be complete confusion at the far end of the field. One of the hangars and two of the huts were blazing and, as I scrambled over the rise, I could see the gap where a bomb had removed another hut. The aeroplanes there were all mixed up together, facing in every possible direction, as though in their haste to get clear they had simply got in each other’s way, and mechanics were frantically dragging at them to swing them round so they could head for the take-off area.
The grey-and-green Albatros was turning now to head diagonally across the field. I heard the engine roar and thought we were too late, but then I saw Sykes jump on the wing, and, throwing an arm round the German pilot’s neck, reach past him into the cockpit. The engine blared but even as the machine moved forward it died again and the aeroplane slowed to a stop, its tail swinging wildly.
‘For God’s sake,’ Sykes yelled. ‘Hurry, Brat!’
I had grabbed a piece of stone from the bank as I had jumped over its lip and the next moment I was plunging through the slipstream as the engine died and on to the other wing. The German was fighting furiously under Sykes’ grip, and was still threshing away with his free arm when I hit him over the head with the stone.
He immediately slumped in the cockpit. ‘I’ve killed him,’ I said.
‘Shouldn’t think so,’ Sykes panted. ‘But he’s going to have a headache. Get him out, for God’s sake!’
The German was a big man and neither Sykes nor I were, and it was harder than I’d ever imagined. I’d helped lift injured men from cockpits before but there’d always been plenty of assistance and plenty of time, and this time there was neither and he seemed to have his legs jammed somewhere inside. Sykes was panting and cursing in a way I’d never heard before as we fought to drag him free.
‘How are we going to do it?’ I shouted in a panic of excitement and fright. ‘One of us riding on the wing? We’ll never get away with it.’
‘No – oh, for God’s sake, this damn’ man! – two in the cockpit! You on my knees! I’ve got longer legs!’
‘Two in the cockpit!’ I tried to reach past the German to free him. ‘Can’t be done.’
‘It’s a big cockpit.’ Sykes’ voice came in a panting rush. ‘Albatroses are. It’s not a Pup and neither of us is a giant. Do it like we learned to fly. In the old Longhorns.’
I knew at once what he had in mind. In the Farman Longhorn, the instructor had sat in front, while the pupil sat behind, his legs on either side feeling the extra rudder bar, his arms holding on to extensions to the controls. I knew at once it would work if we could only get the German free.
Inevitably the struggle had been noticed by this time and I could see men running across the field, and then a car burst out of the confusion round the hangars, its engine howling. A shot was fired and I heard the bullet ‘whack’ past and whine away into the distance.
We nearly had the German free by this time, but he seemed to be bent backwards like a bow and his feet were now under the dashboard somehow and he was beginning to come round and struggle feebly.
Sykes yelled as he came free at last, and I fell in a heap on the grass with him. For a second I thought we’d lose the aeroplane because the propeller was still turning but Sykes was still on the wing and was scrambling now into the cockpit.
‘For God’s sake,’ he screamed, and I ran after him as he swung the machine into wind. Hardly looking where I put my feet I scrambled up the round belly and flopped into the cockpit on to his knees. It was a tremendous jam and there didn’t seem any room to move the joystick.
‘Let her rip,’ he yelled and I opened the throttle immediately without really thinking of the consequences.
Sykes couldn’t see
a thing except round my body, but his long legs were on either side of me on the rudder bar, while I held the joystick and the throttle. As we bumped across the grass, I stared at the dials and indicators, and the Johannisthal plate on the dashboard that indicated the plane’s origin.
‘What’s “Zu” stand for?’ I yelled. ‘And “Hauptank”?’
Fortunately, I was able to assume that the engine was warm and primed, and all I needed to do was hold the stick back as the speed built up. The German pilot was on his feet now and was dragging at a revolver. As we swung round I heard it go off and my right leg leapt.
‘Oh, God,’ I yelped, in a panic of fright. ‘He’s hit me!’
‘Bad?’ Sykes yelled back.
I felt sure it was but I didn’t seem to be dying and I was far more concerned with the fact that at that moment we were facing directly towards the burning aeroplane. ‘Rudder!’ I screamed. ‘Right rudder! She’s swinging!’
Sykes’ legs moved.
‘Not too much! That’ll do!’
As the speed built up the aeroplane swung wildly then hurtled forward. I couldn’t read the airspeed indicator because it was set out in kilometres but I had been at the game long enough to fly by the seat of my trousers and could tell by the feel when she was ready to lift off.
The Germans were still running towards us and the car was moving in front of us now. I saw a mechanic grab for the wing but we were moving too fast by this time and I saw him go head over heels as it sent him flying. Then I pushed the stick forward and the tail came up. The car swung across our path and it looked as though there was going to be the most almighty crash. I yanked frantically on the stick although I sensed we hadn’t yet built up flying speed, and the nose lifted and the wheels came off the ground. But we weren’t moving fast enough and they touched again and we bounced, but I was still heaving at the stick and at last the nose lifted. I saw men jumping out of the car and a German officer standing in the back seat firing at us with a pistol. Where the bullets went I had no idea, but I heard a ‘whangg’ as one of them hit the cowling, then he took a dive over the side as the Albatros lifted over him.
