Invisible Foe

by Ronald Cove

  He still stood about six feet three inches but looked a stronger man. However the moment I set eyes on him, that terrifying Somme battlefield began replaying in my mind, and I clearly remembered this man Johnny Wakeman. When I was in hospital he handed me back my rifle ‘Florrie May’ that I’d lost during that battle, when I was wounded. I immediately grabbed his hand “Well blow me over backwards, look who it ain’t” I almost sobbed with emotion. Selby stopped, looked at me, then to Johnny, suddenly recognition slid across his face. He threw an arm around the big man and with obvious emotion welling up inside him croaked “So them buggers didn’t get you either son”.

  A long silence followed while the three of us stood staring at each other, then Johnny said “I’ll be buggered” then Selby and me repeated his words “I’ll be buggered”. It took time for the emotion to subside in all three of us, but suddenly we were all speaking at once. I was asking ‘how he had fared at Delville Wood’ he was enquiring about Selby’s arm, while at the same time Selby was reminding us about poor old Plumpkin. It was then all the chattering stopped. Silence returned once more, then I said with a lump stuck firmly in my throat “We saw the silly sod go down in a shell hole, and that was it”. “Yes, we all did, but I heard fritz picked him up sometime later” Johnny volunteered. “Well I bloody well ‘ope so” Selby put in effectively closing the subject. The silence returned. A lone voice from a side door said “Oh you’re back then Sir” of course, it was dear old DC Tony Willis. Inspector Selby had decided to leave the DC behind while we took a quick trip to Folkestone. “Ah Willis,” Selby called over, “anything new turned up yet?” “No not much, the Romford Superintendent wants to know if you have had a look at Suttons school yet Sir?” DC Willis informed us. Ins: Selby shook his head “Right Willis, we’ll go down there next, you’ll do the driving this time though” Selby informed him. He then turned back to Johnny Wakeman “What you doin’ down ‘ere anyway John?” he softly enquired. “I’ve been ordered to report to a Superintendent John Jarvis” he just managed to say before me and Selby came back at him with “Orders to report, who the bleedin’ ‘ell you workin’ for then?” we both said in unison. However, Johnny just touched the side of his nose with his forefinger, and with a shake of his head whispered, “Sorry boys, no can say”. “Oh, so you’re one of them are yer?” Dave said pulling a strange face. I winked at Dave and told him “I know who ‘e’s workin’ for Dave, ‘e’s one of them bleedin’ undercover boys, who don’t ‘ave a sodden clue where to look for them saboteurs we’ve been sent out to track down”. John Wakeman gave me a quick smile “You know Billy, they always said you were a clever little bugger” he replied as he made for the door. Then looking back at us raised a hand to his mouth and said softly “Remember though mums the word, see you later,” after which he slipped through the door like a shadow. My old mate Selby looked over at me “There yer go Bill, we’re all searchin’ for the buggers now” he announced. “Seems like yer right Dave” I confirmed then added “what’s our next move mate?” “I don’t really know, let’s ‘ave a butchers at this bloody Suttons school they keep on about”. He then called over “Willis out ‘ere!”

  On arriving at the school we found jerry had preceded us. Dave therefore instructed DC Willis to drive straight into the airfield which was only a few yards further along the same road, and it would seem jerry had selected this exact moment to drop in for tea. As it turned out the first two bloody bombs very nearly blew our bloody car through the sodden gates of the airfield, but like the brave proud riflemen we’d always been, nothing stood in our way. Selby and yours truly were out of the bloody car like a couple of jack rabbits, and into one of the slip trenches the airmen had prepared around here for just such an emergency. And that was before DC Willis had even stopped the bloody car. When Willis joined us in the slip trench, he smiled at me and said “Funny that Sir, I was going to suggest we left the car and hop into one of these Sir” he made the remark sound very much like he was taking the mickey. Ins: Selby gave him a stern look yet ignored the remark. I on the other hand offered what I thought to be a great case in our defence. “Well yer see Tony me ol’ mate, Dave and me ‘ave played this bleedin’ game before, a few years back against the same bloody team would you believe, and of course our lot wasn’t ready again, and fritz seemed to be a bloody sight quicker off the mark than us”. There I rested my case. Tony looked back at me with a cockeyed grin lurking on his face. “Oh Sarge I do feel sorry for you poor old sods from that last bleedin’ lot, but come on, the truth is you didn’t really finish the bleedin’ job, did yer?” he argued for the prosecution. “Well that’s as may be mate, but now I suggest you youngsters stop criticizing us old boys and get stuck in, see if you lot can do any better, at least we showed yer ‘ow it’s bloody done” I rattled off. At this point DC Tony Willis capitulated and ducked further down into our little sanctuary as one or two of the enemy aircraft began to rake the field with machine gun fire.

  “Oh for Christ sake, where’s my ‘Florrie May’?” I yelled while shaking my fist at the enemy aircraft. I vaguely heard Dave chuckle, then explain to DC Willis “Florrie May was old Billy Boys rifle, but I’m afraid that was in another day and age” then for me he added “so forget it Bill, let’s just wait it out”.

  At this point it became painfully clear jerry had caught our boys on the bleeding hop, we couldn’t see one British fighter in the bleeding sky. However we did spot several airmen from the ground staff fart arsing about, trying to operate some old dilapidated Vickers machine gun. For a time there I toyed with the idea of rushing over, and help show the silly sods how to handle the bleeding thing. But DI Selby advised against this saying “Look Bill, you can’t run around doing that sort of thing now, you’re too bloody old for a start. Anyway I doubt you’d be able to handle the bloody gun the way these boys have to now. I mean, look at them bloody Stuka dive bombers” Dave went on “not like those Eindeckers or Albatros eighty-odd miles an hour, these buggers are coming at you something like two hundred plus miles an hour” he finally concluded. “Well I must say, thank you for that great show of confidence Sir” I replied sarcastically.

  Jerry tormented us for another half hour before terminating his visit with us. He then treated us to one final burst of machine gun fire after which he left. Nevertheless all this action gave DC Willis and myself enough time to smoke two cigarettes. DI Selby declined a second cigarette on account of his health, so he said. Anyway I don’t know about DC Willis, but for Selby and me I’m sure it would be right to say we climbed out of that small slip trench with a feeling of nostalgia, joy or pleasure, call it what you will, nevertheless it’s the same feeling you get after charging over the top and suddenly finding yourself safely in the enemy trench with the enemy gone. Although I must say standing in that bloody trench did also bring back a lot of horrific memories to me. I wondered for instance if poor old Sgt: Banks was up there looking over ‘his boys’ as he used to call us. “Never mind Banksy me ol’ mate, we’ll all be together again one day” I mumbled. Dave said, “Speak up Bill wot d’yer say?” “Ah nothing mate, just thinking out loud,” I told him. “Right, well you just pop over there and tell them dozy buggers in that bloody office who we are, and you might also mention nobody challenged us on our way in, and find out who’s in bloody charge Bill” Dave ordered while pointing to a shack that looked as though it was the orderly room. “You might also mention we’re ‘ere investigatin’ complaints about people photographing their bloody airfield, just in case any of the buggers in there are interested” he called after me. I waved my hand in acknowledgement as I went. However, before I’d gone too far, Dave called me back, “‘Ang on Bill, change of plan, no point in ‘anging round ‘ere, I’ve ‘ad a bleedin’ enough of this. Jump in we’ll go back to the station”.

  9:

  STRIKE ONE

  Suddenly a Squadron Leader jumped from the cab of a three-ton lorry and ordered the guard on the Biggin Hill aerodrome to open the gates. A jeep and a brand n
ew Bren gun carrier accompanied the lorry. As the gates opened the jeep revved hard on the engine then swung out in front of the lorry and entered through the gates first. Two men occupied the jeep, a RAF Sgt: James Freeman driving and a flight Sgt: Tom Henry as passenger. The Sqn: Leader slid back into his seat on the lorry, telling the driver to follow the jeep which Cpl: Todd, his driver, acknowledged with a nod and a crisp “Sir”. Quite suddenly Cpl: Fred Todd and Sqn: Leader Bob Taylor became aware that something was drastically wrong with the jeep now picking up speed in front of them. First, Flt: Sgt: Tom Henry stood up and was seen to be gesticulating to the jeep’s driver, it appeared something to their front was forcing them off the dirt track and the Flt: Sgt: seemed to be suggesting they avoid it. He next turned to the lorry and shouted what appeared to be some sort of warning to the lorry driver Cpl: Todd. The Sergeant then took a premeditated leap, out and away from the jeep. Sqn: Leader Bob Taylor having taken heed of the drama going on in the jeep immediately instructed Cpl: Todd to take evasive action “Swing out onto the bloody grass, clear of that bloody jeep” he yelled. However, a sudden explosion just behind the jeep had the effect of causing Cpl: Todd to automatically throw himself to one side in the cab, in an effort to avoid fragments of glass penetrating his face from the lorry’s windscreen, when and if the blast struck. This in turn caused him to throw the vehicle into a sharp U-turn at the same time stalling the engine. Sgt: Ray Locke of the army’s Royal Engineers driving the Bren gun carrier: the last vehicle of this small convoy, did not see all what went on in front owing to the three tonna blocking his view, but now Sgt Locke watched in horror as the lorry suddenly darted forward, went into a U turn and stalled just a few yards in front of him. He immediately pushed his foot down hard on the accelerator while applying a sharp lock to his right track. As the carrier slowed with its left track spinning freely, it went into a laborious turn, avoiding a collision with the lorry, but in order to prevent his Bren gun carrier from stalling he quickly reversed his lock on the steering wheel. Unfortunately, he was too slow taking his foot off the throttle, consequently now with steering wheel straight, the Bren gun carrier with army Sgt: Ray Locke at the wheel cursing, jumped forward with a rush. The Sergeant quickly slammed his foot down hard on the clutch, threw the gears into neutral, released the clutch then immediately slammed it down again, and finally eased the engine into third gear. He repeated the foresaid of doubling the clutch until finally bringing the carrier to a standstill without actually stalling the engine.

  Meanwhile in the hedgerow of an adjoining field, Dick Fletcher, now dressed in an RAF uniform bearing the rank of Corporal, crouched down in a small hollow watching anxiously through a pair of field glasses which hung around his neck. Seeing a Sergeant in the jeep, suddenly jump to his feet and wave his arms about, seeming to be in some distress, at one time pointing to something on the dirt track in front of them. The sight brought a smile to the face of the corporal in the hedge. He continued to observe this little pantomime as the Sergeant in the jeep, pointed back at the lorry, shouted something inaudible then gave a gigantic leap and rolled well away from the vehicle. The RAF Cpl: first saw then heard an explosion come from the jeep. It seemed to lift this four-wheeled drive vehicle and throw it backwards just off the dirt track.

  However, it wasn’t until the man in the hedgerow, Cpl: Fletcher, saw the three-ton lorry jackknife and the Bren gun carrier career across the field that he began to curse himself for not planting a couple more landmines in the vicinity where the carrier had left the dirt track. Nevertheless he knew it was no good crying over spilt milk. He took one more peek through the field glasses at the tragic scene which he had created, then decided it was time to go. After replacing the glasses in their case and going to great pains to brush himself down, removing all debris from his spotless blue uniform, he walked over to a small gate, where he carefully removed his bicycle from its hiding place then carefully concealed the binoculars in the saddlebag. He then purposely mounted his bicycle and started a pleasant ride to Biggin Hill aerodrome, which assured him of a ride that would last at least five minutes!

  Having arrived at the airfield, he waited for the Sergeant of the guard to order an airman to raise the barrier bar. Sgt: Blake then engaged him in conversation. “Hey Dick, where the bleeding hell you been? We’ve had the bleedin’ devil to pay round ‘ere” he told Cpl: Dick Fletcher. “Well hang on Sergeant, it was supposed to be my day off, anyway what’s happened here then?” Cpl: Fletcher enquired showing mild interest. “What happened! look, leave your old bike over there, we’ll take care of it” he promised while pointing to a place Fletcher should park his bike. He continued “then nip along to the orderly room, them blokes will know more about it than us” Sgt: Blake concluded. “Right Sarge” came a somewhat puzzled reply. At the orderly room Fletcher was told by an airman what had happened “Only one sergeant killed though, which was lucky” he was informed. Fletcher answered “Who, for him? Bloody fortunate that” then inwardly bestowed several curses on himself for not laying more mines. Nevertheless he realised there was nothing he could do except learn from that silly mistake.

  Later that day Cpl: Fletcher picked up his bike from its nesting place alongside the guardhouse. He told Sgt: Blake he’d be back in the morning. He did not envisage however, his stay at this airfield would be so short. Nevertheless he felt he could take comfort from the fact that two days ago, while supposedly helping the driver of a petrol tanker unload, had contrived to plant a small bomb in the empty petrol tank, which he was later given to understand exploded that same night on the other side of an adjoining field, well away from the airfield. So, he thought at least I can console myself with the knowledge that I’ve completely destroyed one jeep and a Sergeant driver, one petrol tanker and driver plus caused a lot of bloody havoc into the bargain, “not too bad for one night's work” he told himself.

  *

  I handed DI Selby a cigarette, as we both lit up he said, “Right Billy me boy, we’ll ‘ave breakfast now, then over to that bloody shack, their excuse for a police station around ‘ere”. “There you go then” I replied as I handed him a plate containing two slices of fried bread, two eggs and a couple of slices of tinned spam. “Thanks,” he smiled then added, “What you got?” “Oh me, I’m trying that new pre-fangled powdered egg, them yanks keep sending over for us poor old Englishmen to live on, with some good old British toast thrown in” I informed him. Now having settled down to eat our first meal in our new abode, I took time out for a casual observation of our new surroundings. The décor wasn’t too exciting, just plain apple green distempered walls which some idiot had gone to great lengths to brighten up with some fashionable dado. This room I assumed was the dining room, on account of a sideboard that stood against one wall and contained the cutlery, also the table we now sat at boasted a set of four chairs to match, a tablecloth and all the other condiments that are required at meal times.

  At this point my keen eye and sharp mind were distracted by the ringing of a telephone that was placed on a small table in the hallway. I looked at Selby with the same look he was offering back at me. “Ah me ol’ pal, one of us ‘as got to answer that bloody thing, and it ain’t gonna be me, on account I’m still eatin’ and you’re the senior bleedin’ partner in this small team anyway” I very shrewdly pointed out to him. He took a huge bite of his fried bread and mumbled something which sounded like ‘it’s probably for the clever one of us, so you stay put while I give whoever it is a nice bollickin’. He then slipped out through the door.

  I forgot about studying our surroundings and concentrated on this make-believe egg that our American friends reckoned would do us the world of good, although as it turned out I only had time to devour one more mouthful before DI. Selby was back. “Come on Billy Boy time to go” he managed to inform me, then my leader was gone. By the time I caught up with him Selby had already knocked on the front door of DC Willis’ digs and was waiting for some response.

  Quite suddenly our Wolseley slid qui
etly curb side. A head popped out through a front window “Are you looking for me Sir?” DC Willis sang out in a happy go lucky tone with a wave of his hand, and a big smile covering his face. I walked closer to Selby then nodded to Willis who by this time had the car back doors open and stood waiting. “He’s ‘ad a sight more than a good nights’ sleep and a nice English breakfast, I’ll wager Dave” I speculated with a touch of envy. “No, not so soon, surely,” Selby muttered, then with a touch of doubt added, “d’yer reckon Bill?” I gave Dave a knowing smile “Yes Dave I reckon,” I replied and gaud blimey as if to confirm what I’d just said, Willis’ young landlady opened the front door and stepped out. The wind caught her dressing gown, and from where we were now sitting an awful lot of leg came into view as the bottom half of the gown parted, then not only did she wave to Selby and me, she finished her goodbyes by making a great exhibition of throwing a kiss to DC Willis which he immediately returned with interest. “There yer go Dave, what did I say,” I reminded Selby. “Well I don’t know he must have some bleedin’ spell he can cast over these lovely women” Dave replied.

  On our arrival at the Hornchurch police station DI Selby received a smart and courteous nod from the desk Sergeant. “I think Mr: Daniel Ross wants to speak with you Ins: Selby” the Sergeant informed Selby. “Ah right, and you are Sergeant?” Selby waited. “Oh yes Sir, I’m Sgt: Wright Sir” he enlightened Selby. “Ok, that’s good, thank you Sergeant” Selby gave out in a dismissive manner, then turning to me “so come on Bill, where do we find this Ross feller? We’ll go and see him immediately” Selby carried on. “Well, I should think he still lives at 22, Stanley Road Dave,” I told him with a hint of despair in my voice while rubbing my backside and remembering that bloody gate with its new spring.