A Diamond in the Rough

by Marilyn Land

  After two weeks had passed, Jake’s group got a new instructor. On his very first day, the new instructor chose Billy Webster as the first to take a Spit up and fly it around a bit. Of all the others in their group, Billy did not stand out as being up to the task, and there was no way the new instructor could have known anyone’s potential his first day on the job. In fact, Billy was quite shy and laid back, and Jake couldn’t understand why the instructor had chosen him as the first to fly or chosen anyone to fly until he became more acquainted with them.

  Sadly, the instructor’s decision proved fatal. Billy was so visibly nervous, that in all probability, it severely hampered his ability to think clearly. His coarse take off caused him to clip the top of a hangar and crash into a storage building killing him instantly. For Jake, this brought back memories of the chap who had been killed in the States, once again forcing him to question his immortality.

  Three days later and yet another instructor, Jake was called up to fly. Putting Billy out of his mind, he concentrated on what he had been taught. The Spitfire was beautiful in appearance, graceful to handle, and deadly in combat. It’s clean lines and rounded wings were both aerodynamic and elegant. This was exactly what Jake had been hoping for, waiting for, and his excitement in finally getting to fly a Spitfire not only dispelled any nervousness he might have had, but actually boosted his confidence.

  With these thoughts in mind, he taxied the plane to the far end of the field. At the holding point on the grass, he did his run up and instruments check, winding on full right rudder trim. Having moved up to the ready spot on the grass, he lined up with the hangar on the far side of the field, and waited for a green, one eye on the rapidly rising coolant temperature, the other on the tower. On getting the green light, he released the brakes, and glided the stick back gradually opening the throttle to takeoff power, then carefully brought the stick forward to neutral. Immediately, the tail was up to flying attitude; an almost full right rudder was needed to keep straight. A few seconds later, with some light bouncing on the grass, the plane flew itself off.

  Sitting in that snug cockpit, almost on the trailing edge, and with that beautiful wing in his field of vision, it was hard for Jake to believe he was really flying a Spitfire. With speed building up, he retracted the undercarriage, closed the canopy and climbed to a safe height over the training area.

  After getting a feel for the sensitivity of the controls, he ran through a series of exercises he had been taught, including stalls and spins; and then executed a simple loop. For a brief moment he seemed to lose control of the plane, but without any input on his part, the aircraft righted itself, and he was back in business.

  Having been out for over an hour, he headed back to the field and landed. He was still on cloud nine and could not recall one aspect of his first Spitfire landing, as he taxied back across the field to the hangar where his instructor awaited him. Climbing down from the cockpit, he noticed the scowl on his instructor’s face. “Lyons, you came in too fast and too straight, causing you to float halfway across the field; good job otherwise.”

  In the days following his initial flight, he perfected his landings. All Spitfires were known to float a fair distance, even when brought in at the correct speed; this made landing easy. He learned to hold it level as it floated, and when it started to sink, raising the nose progressively, until, with the stick back in his lap, it settled down like a feather. Once mastered not only was it efficient, but it felt good. With the landing field in full sight, slipping the turn would cause the loss of any excess height.

  At the end of two months, Jake finished the course with 37 hours on Spits, and was posted to 1111 RAF Squadron, newly formed at Peterhead on the North Sea coast of Scotland, 30 miles north of Aberdeen. A week later he flew with his squadron for the first time, and for the first time from a paved runway.

  Although Scotland is second only to the Aleutians for bad flying weather, especially in winter, 1111 Squadron flew hit-and-run raids, and convoy patrols over the North Sea the entire winter of 1942, while the locals claimed that it was the worst winter in living memory. When the runways were not snowed in, it was routine to be scrambled into ceilings as low as 300’ depending solely on your gut to get back down out of the clouds, preferably over the sea.

  The Spitfires were modified many times as the War progressed; they were given larger engines, more spacious cockpits, and 20mm cannons. When RAF pilots starting bombing Germany in 1943, the bombers needed fighter planes to escort them all the way into the heart of Germany, and Jake’s Squadron was called up. During most of that year, Bomber Command’s priority was attacking Germany’s U-boat ports as part of Britain’s effort to win the Battle of the Atlantic.

  Month after month, 1111 Squadron flew escort to the British bombers whose attacks had done considerable damage to industrial cities throughout Germany. The Battle of Berlin was launched, along with attacks on other cities aimed at preventing the Germans from concentrating on their defense of Berlin.

  In mid-December, escorted by fighter planes for the first time both to and from their targets, 710 bombers took part in the largest daylight raid to date over Kiel, Germany. Although the attack resulted in the loss of 5 Allied bombers, 15 Nazi fighter planes were destroyed at the hands of Jake’s Squadron.

  The Spitfire was significantly faster, more nimble, and had a higher rate of climb, and many pilots felt they were so well balanced, they could practically fly themselves. The brave pilots who flew them proved they could do it all; they could fly all the way to Berlin and back, and out dogfight the German fighters time and again.

  To be proclaimed an Ace, a pilot had to have five confirmed victories. Jake actually made Ace in a day and was well on his way to becoming one of the top scoring RAF fighter pilots of the War. He had 18 kills, and was credited with destroying 18 enemy aircraft, five probable, and five damaged. Across the chest of his uniform were displayed a Bomber Command Campaign Metal, a War Metal with bronze oak leaf, an Air Crew Europe Star, and the Distinguished Flying Medal. His recent promotion to Squadron Leader was his latest achievement.

  RAF 1111 Squadron was selected to join in the combat missions scheduled to begin in early 1944, and leading up to Operation Overlord. With the Squadron’s recent return to Winkleigh, Jake felt as though he had come home.

  The last two years had been stressful and intense. He had flown over 60 missions, lost fellow pilots who had become good friends, and had 18 kills to his credit. Although his fellow pilots marveled at his ability to out maneuver the enemy by dubbing him Jitterbug Jake, he found himself in several precarious situations that resulted in his bailing out over the English Channel in one incident, and a crash landing back at the base in another. Fortunately, his injuries were of little concern.

  It was almost Christmas, and with a ten-day leave in hand, he was officially off duty until the New Year. He eagerly boarded the train to London with a fellow pilot and checked into the Savoy.

  Now, he simply wanted to unwind, see Marcus and Elena, and not have to get out of bed at the crack of dawn each and every day. He also wanted to go to the cemetery and pay a visit to Rabbi Levin. It had been almost two years since he had been in London, or even been on leave, other than a day here and there requiring him to stay near the base.

  Because of the blackouts, the streets of London were quite subdued, but inside the hotel, holiday decorations were plentiful and festive; and when he checked in, there was a notice on the desk inviting all service personnel to a New Year’s Eve Gala in the Grand Ballroom sponsored by the Red Cross Club in conjunction with the American USO. Handing him the key to his room, the desk clerk pointed this fact out to Jake. “I hope you will join us New Year’s Eve. The staff has been working quite handily to make sure that it’s a glorious event.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will certainly consider it.”

  His first call was always to Marcus—simply because he considered Marcus and Elena family
, his only family. This time, he insisted they join him at the Savoy for dinner his first night in town. After a brief rest, a shave, and a shower, Jake left his room to go downstairs to meet them in the Grille Room for dinner. He was early, but decided to hang out in the Lobby. The Savoy was a favorite of both British and American servicemen alike whenever they found themselves in London, if they were lucky enough to secure a room.

  To his utter delight and surprise, when the lift opened on his floor, there stood Tommy Butler. “Wow! Is that really you? It is so great to see you.”

  Filled to capacity the lift became an express to the Lobby. They hugged and just stared at one another. They hadn’t seen each other since they parted ways after arriving in London from the States, and neither knew where the other was ultimately posted. Jake spoke first. “I know I keep saying Wow, but I just can’t believe we’re both here. How could we have been so stupid not keeping in touch? I’ve really missed you and Andy too.”

  Tommy laughed. “Well, you can say Wow again, when I tell you I’m meeting Andy in the bar here at the hotel. Have a drink with us.”

  “I have dinner plans, but hey, please join us. The people I’m meeting are the closest to family I have, and it will be so good to share stories and catch up. I promise you, Marcus and Elena Hirsch will enjoy meeting you and Andy and hearing every single detail of any time we spent together.”

  “I would love to have dinner with you, and I accept your generous offer, but Andy is meeting his parents here for dinner too, so I can’t speak for him. Why don’t we go to the bar, grab a quick ale, wait for him, and see what we can work out.”

  Merging the two dinner reservations allowed Andy Barbour, his parents, Tommy Butler, Marcus, Elena, and Jake to spend a delightful evening together over a sumptuous meal where laughter was the entrée and friendship the dessert—removed from the raging War that overshadowed all of their lives. It was a night they hadn’t experienced in far too long, and they embraced it.

  After dinner, everyone said their goodbyes and Andy’s parents and Marcus and Elena left. Tommy, Andy, and Jake headed back to the bar.

  After ordering a round of drinks, Tommy asked, “What do you guys say we make plans to attend the New Year’s Eve Gala here at the hotel? It sounds like fun and the desk clerk said there will be plenty ladies to check out and maybe have a dance or two. Hey Jake, you do remember how to jitterbug don’t you?”

  “I think I do although I haven’t had a chance to do much dancing since we left the States. I know we can’t really talk about what’s waiting for us at the end of our leave, but with the recent victories the Allies have racked up, I sure hope we’re heading towards the end of this War. I’ve seen some pretty bad things happen to too many chaps that I cared about.

  “After spending such a great evening with friends and family, I really look forward to returning to a normal life and making plans for the future. You can count me in. It looks like the perfect way to begin the New Year.”

  Andy thoroughly agreed. “Count me in, as well. At least for the evening, we can forget about the fighting for one night.”

  Andy left for home; Tommy and Jake took the lift to their rooms.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As Marcus Hirsch drove away from the Portman house in one direction, Lexi arrived home from the other. Elise greeted her with the good news that she had learned that Jake was alive and had not yet arrived home when the bombs fell on their building. As Lexi sobbed with relief in her mother’s arms, she asked a million questions—none of which was answered. Instead, Elise comforted her daughter with soothing and reassuring words and offered to make tea and something to eat. When Manny Portman came home, he found them in the sitting room.

  To both of them Elise related the story of Jake’s survival without once mentioning Marcus Hirsch or Jake’s letter—which she had quietly tucked away in one of two small drawers in the bottom of her jewelry case before Lexi arrived home. Neither questioned how she learned of Jake’s survival; both assuming that she heard the news during the day while she was out running errands.

  Although Lexi learned that Jake was alive, she couldn’t dispel the sadness and abandonment that she felt. She could not come to grips with the fact that he had not contacted her direct to tell her the decisions he made, or what his immediate plans were. She only knew he was joining the RAF; and that meant he could be anywhere. Most of all, she had no way to contact him or find out how he was faring. She could only imagine how terrible it was to lose one’s entire family, but she knew he loved her as much as she loved him, and leaving without a word was not Jake’s way of doing things; it was the opposite. Her only conjecture being that his loss was so great, he knew of no other way to cope.

  Lexi attended the Memorial Service the following Friday night at the Great Central Synagogue in the East End alone. The multitude of people who attended was overwhelming. In the weeks and months following the service, she would inquire if her cousin Ivan had heard any news about Jake; his answer was always the same, “No, not a word.” Finally, she stopped asking, realizing that if Ivan heard anything, he would surely tell her. A month after her graduation from high school Lexi enrolled in nursing classes.

  Elise Portman wrestled with her conscience on a daily basis. Had she done the right thing by keeping the letter from Lexi? If she reconsidered and changed her mind, how could she possibly produce the letter months later without a valid explanation? She had no one to confide in; she had never mentioned the letter to Manny. With each passing day, her guilt continued to consume her.

  She threw herself into volunteering at the hospital; chairing luncheons and various events for the war effort, and working with the newly opened USO in London and the Red Cross to open clubs throughout the City for both British and American military personnel on leave.

  At her father’s suggestion, Lexi applied to a newly built hospital on the outskirts of Birmingham and was accepted for the four-year training course to become a registered nurse. It was a teaching hospital adjacent to the University of Birmingham and its Medical School, and at the time was rated as the most modern and state-of-the-art hospital in the United Kingdom.

  Because of the War and the desperate and immediate need for medically trained personnel, nurses in particular, her classes started in July following her graduation from high school, in lieu of commencing in the fall. Classes were no longer suspended during the summer months, and the new nursing students were further encouraged to take extra credits, allowing them to complete the four-year course in two and one-half to three years. Lexi welcomed this new opportunity and looked forward to becoming an RN in the shortest possible time.

  On a beautiful summer weekend in late June, Elise and Manny Portman drove Lexi the 162 km to Birmingham to begin her nursing studies. This was what Lexi had talked about since she was five years old—often hosting a get-well tea party for her dolls in a makeshift hospital in their backyard garden. She wanted to be a nurse and help sick people get well.

  “Why are you so quiet Lexi? Aren’t you excited about starting your classes? You seemed quite pleased when we came to visit the school a few weeks ago.”

  “I’m fine Mum. I’m just thinking about all that I have ahead of me, and I want to do it all as fast as I can. I’m totally looking forward to the accelerated program being offered.”

  Lexi couldn’t tell her that all she thought about most days was Jake. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he think about her? She hated this War; she yearned for the way things were what seemed a lifetime ago, but in reality were just months ago.

  The Queen Mother had declared the new hospital open in 1939, and graciously consented to give it her own name. It became known as the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. All nursing students were required to live in, and at no time were allowed to wear their uniform away from the hospital. Very strict rules were observed including that which forbade marriage during the period of training, which was a difficult decision
for many a young girl whose fiancé was due to ship out for overseas combat. Each student was required to pay 20 pounds for their uniforms and textbooks; however, they did not have to pay for board and lodging.

  The medical profession was male-dominated at the time, and female medical students were noticeable by their absence. On the other hand, the nursing profession was all female and no training existed for males to become nurses.

  Lexi threw herself wholeheartedly into her studies and moved forward quickly. After six months of her initial training, she was called upon to carry out the tasks generally assigned to porters and orderlies who consistently fell short of demand. One Ward Sister took a particular liking to her and often requested that she accompany her during rounds. This allowed Lexi good experience in dealing with the many patients who were coming into the hospital on a daily basis.

  As air raids and military campaigns intensified, their nursing duties and experiences expanded. The hospital received many air raid casualties from surrounding areas, including those from city hospitals. The center of Birmingham was attacked relentlessly, and at times, the casualties admitted exceeded their capacity. After one particularly vicious bombardment, they were forced to put the wounded on stretchers in the corridors due to lack of beds.

  As they viewed the glow of fires burning in the City, the Queen Elizabeth Hospital was subjected to attack after attack by incendiary bombs. Medical students took turns manning the rooftops of the hospital in fire-watching duties. It eventually became necessary to evacuate hospital patients from some of the wards in order to make room for air raid victims. Emergency units were set up in small cottage hospitals and convalescent homes throughout the surrounding area to accommodate the evacuated patients.

  Some of the injuries sustained by air raid victims were devastating and made an everlasting impression on the young student nurses involved in their treatment. The memory of these tragic cases remained with Lexi long after they died or were discharged. At times like these, she instinctively thought of Jake.