Call to Duty

by Richard Herman

  1944

  RAF Hunsdon, Hertfordshire, England

  “I can’t believe this,” Ruffy groaned when he saw the propellers for Pickard’s Mossie, F for Freddie, start to turn. “It’s on.” The radio was mute since 140 Wing always maintained radio silence during a launch. They assumed that German monitoring posts, which were less than a hundred miles away across the English Channel, would hear them. “It’s an absolute swine of a day and they want us to go up and play.” Zack grunted and motioned to the ground crew that he was going to start engines. “My God!” Ruffy continued. “The ceiling can’t be more than a hundred feet, if that.” Sleet and snow was still dusting the nineteen Mosquitoes sitting in the dispersals at RAF Hunsdon and an occasional gust would obscure the aircraft at the end of the line.

  “A bit hard to maintain formation,” Zack told him. Hunsdon came alive as ignition after ignition cracked and blue flames spat out the exhaust stubs. Engines hesitated and then coughed to life as whirling propellers cut into the snow. A wave of turbulent sound broke over the field as the Merlins snarled and sent gusts of snow across the base. Zack switched on the ignition and pressed the starter and booster-coil buttons for the port engine. Brian, the ground crew mechanic, stroked the priming pump with demonic fury. Since they were using high-volatility fuel, the engine roared to life on the sixth stroke. Brian gave it four more strokes to continue the priming until it picked up on the carburetor. With the engine smoothly on line, Zack started the starboard engine. Brian worked furiously to screw down the priming pump and button up the priming panels.

  Then the mechanic stepped back and listened to the sound of the big Merlins and, satisfied that all was well, gave Zack a thumbs-up signal. “The Film Production Unit Mossie doesn’t look like it’s going to make it,” Zack said. The nineteenth Mosquito that was going along to film the raid had not started engines and a mechanic had the cowling on the right engine open.

  “The death and glory boys,” Ruffy mumbled, “will not regret sitting this one out.” He was not happy with the way the mission was developing.

  Zack ran the magneto drop check. “She’s purring like a kitten,” Zack consoled Ruffy. He gave Brian the chocks-out signal and the mechanic gave them a salute as they moved out of dispersal.

  “Brian would be most unhappy if we brought his child back in,” Ruffy said, giving in to the inevitability of the mission. “He’d probably accuse you or me of buggering it up so we wouldn’t have to fly in this muck.” Zack joined the other five Mosquitoes of his squadron as they taxied down the track to the runway. Their squadron leader, Wing Commander “Black” Smith, taxied out onto the runway and they followed, lining up in pairs. The other two squadrons held on the taxipath in a long line. 140 Wing was ready to launch. Now with their engines fully warmed up and ready to go, they shut down and waited for the clock to run out. Ruffy popped the hatch and dropped the ladder. “My bladder is remarkably weak at times like this,” he said. Zack joined him at the side of the runway as they christened a bare spot of ground. They crawled back into the cramped cockpit and watched the minute hand on their watches move with maddening slowness toward the twelve. At exactly 1058, the propellers of their squadron leader’s Mosquito cranked over as he started engines. Zack followed suit.

  With the last-minute checks complete, they watched the first two Mosquitoes run up and start their takeoff roll. Zack motioned to his wingman and they pushed their throttles up. When the first two aircraft were three hundred feet down the runway, they released brakes and followed in a formation takeoff. K for King responded like a thoroughbred and charged after the lead pair. Snow and sleet beat against the perspex windscreen, almost defeating the windscreen wiper. The tail wheel came up. “I’ve lost them in this muck,” Ruffy told Zack. Their squadron leader, Black Smith, had broken ground and disappeared immediately into the overcast with his wingman.

  Zack felt the Mosquito start to fly but held it on the ground until the airspeed touched 130 miles-per-hour. He eased back on the stick and they came unglued from the ground. He snapped the undercarriage lever to the up position and held his altitude until the airspeed reached 170. Then he honked back on the stick and climbed briskly to fifteen hundred feet, his wingman glued to his wing. Ruffy gave him the first heading to the southern coast of England for their rendezvous with the Typhoons over Littlehampton. A lone dark image materialized in front of and slightly below them. “That’s Black’s Mossie,” Ruffy said, identifying their leader. “He seems to have lost his number two.” Zack maintained radio silence and joined up on Black Smith’s right wing in a loose formation.

  “Christ,” Ruffy groused. “We’ll never make the rendezvous with the Tiffies.” Then: “We’ve got company.” Another Mosquito from their squadron joined up on their squadron leader’s left wing and, miraculously, eight of the twelve scheduled Typhoons appeared above them. “The chaps are doing well today,” Ruffy allowed. “Time to start our descent.” Zack held a constant 270 as the four Mosquitoes descended, the Typhoons following. Sweat streaked their faces as they ground down through the weather, bouncing and twisting through the muck. It was a hard, jolting ride that would quickly wear a pilot down. His leader would disappear into the weather and then pop back out. Zack kept his eyes riveted on Smith as Ruffy read the gauges off to him. They hit an open patch and, for a brief moment, he could see the entire formation. “Descending through one hundred feet,” Ruffy called. “Seventy-five feet.”

  “Brave soul,” Zack muttered. They had to get below fifty feet if they were to avoid being picked up on German radar.

  Finally, they were flying straight and level, still in the weather. The hard ride continued to pound the aircraft and throw them against their lap and shoulder harnesses. “Twenty feet,” Ruffy said as a patch of iron-gray water flashed below them.

  “I can’t believe this,” Zack said. He had to keep jockeying the throttles to avoid outrunning the other aircraft. “Brian’s magic has improved,” he said. Suddenly his inner alarm clanged furiously and he eased back on the stick, gaining another twenty feet of altitude. The gray and green shape of a Mosquito flashed under him, right into the space he would have been had he not pulled up. His natural reactions took over and he firewalled the throttles and pulled up as the airframe shuddered and the engines howled. “Who…I barely saw the bugger…. My God! that’s F for Freddie!” F for Freddie was Packard’s aircraft. Only that strange sixth sense and the fine tune of K for King had saved them from a midair collision.

  The weather continued to pound them as they flew across the channel and the clouds and sea merged into a gray blanket. A series of violent jolts shook them and K for King shuddered as if a giant hand were batting them about, testing the sturdy aircraft. Their harnesses cut into them as Zack fought for control. He tasted a heavy bile at the back of his throat and, for a fraction of a second, he was certain they would slam into the sea. Then, as if the weather gods were done with them and satisfied that they had proved themselves worthy, the hand released them. The turbulent air smoothed and visibility improved. He caught a glimpse of the sun and considered that a good omen. “I do believe Met was right for once,” Zack allowed. He could clearly see the three other aircraft in their formation.

  “And here’s B for Beer,” Ruffy told him as the fifth Mosquito from their squadron joined on them. They were still short one aircraft. “I hope the Tiffies are still with us.” Zack strained to see into the weather that was definitely improving, wanting to see the Typhoons. They would be needed if the “boys from Abbeville” put in an appearance while they were on the bomb run. Nothing. Their leader maintained radio silence, certain that the Germans could now monitor any radio transmission. “Coasting in now,” Ruffy announced as they flew low over white-capped breakers that were rolling against the French coastline. He studied the land for some recognizable feature to fix their position. The five aircraft screamed over the low dunes and a concrete lookout bunker. “Jerry knows we’re here now,” Ruffy said as Zack pushed up the throttles.
Their airspeed hovered on 295 and their altimeters held them at a scant fifty feet above the ground.

  The weather had improved and a strong winter sun gave sharp definition to features on the ground. Zack could see their shadows streaking over the snow-covered landscape, making him think of a golden eagle’s shadow he had once seen as it swooped down on a hapless rabbit. “The boys from Abbeville will be up and about,” he said.

  Ruffy grunted an answer. Then: “Right, I’ve got our position. We’re about a mile south of course.” On cue, the lead Mosquito altered course to the north and the formation climbed to five thousand feet. They wanted the Germans to see them and think they were on a deep-penetration mission before they turned toward Amiens. They raced over a series of easily identifiable checkpoints. “Maitland did his job well,” Ruffy said. “Expect a descent in thirty seconds.” They would be pointed away from Amiens while they descended and dropped from radar coverage. “We don’t want the penny to drop yet for Jerry.”

  Radio silence no longer mattered and the radio crackled to life. “Hello, this is Dypeg leader.” It was their squadron leader, Black Smith, calling using the call sign they had been assigned for the mission. “Descend now. K for King take spacing and follow us in.” Zack acknowledged the call and slowed to 270 as his wingman joined on his right. He started a weave as they descended to gain the separation they would need for the attack.

  A cool voice came over the radio. “Dypeg, this is Garlic.” The Typhoons that were tasked to fly cover for them while they were over the target and most vulnerable to attack by enemy fighters checked in. “We are approaching the target from the west.”

  “They are never where you want them,” Ruffy complained. But relief was evident in his voice.

  Zack had the spacing he wanted from the three lead aircraft; he stopped his weave and pushed the throttles up as they leveled off at fifty feet above the ground. Now they turned to the south and arced toward the northeastern side of Amiens. Far in the distance, they could barely see the distinctive spires of the thirteenth-century Gothic cathedral in the center of town—proof they had found their target. “Coming up on the Albert-Amiens road,” Ruffy said over the intercom. His voice was a rapid staccato. Both men strained to find the road that led directly to the prison. “That row of poplars, that’s it.”

  “Got it,” Zack told him. He angled toward the trees that lined the road to avoid making a hard turn. He led the turn and rolled out on a westerly heading as they flashed over the road. His wingman crossed over the top and fell into place on his left wing for the run-in. A lone figure on a bicycle had stopped in the middle of the road and waved furiously at them. Bath aircraft kicked up a rooster tail of snow as they raced over the open fields. They still could not see the prison.

  “It’s on the nose,” Ruffy reassured him.

  A dark form took shape in front of them and Zack keyed his radio. “Tallyho the prison! Let’s slow it down.” He retarded the throttles and a Typhoon flashed by in front of them and pulled up, wagging its wings. “That’s reassuring. Bomb doors open.”

  Ruffy hit the switch. “Bomb doors open,” he said as bright bursts of light punctuated the landscape in front of them. The first three Mosquitoes had hit the prison.

  Now Pickard’s distinctive voice came over the radio as he called the Australians who would attack after Zack and his wingman had dropped their bombs. “Cannon, I do not have you in sight. The first element of Dypeg is off the target, second element of Dypeg is inbound. Say your position.”

  “Cannon is four minutes out,” came the crisp reply. “On course.”

  Pickard was unbelievably cool as he coordinated the attack. “K for King, continue your run.” Ruffy buried his head in the bomb sight. The prison walls were ahead of them. “Come left,” he ordered. “Easy, easy, hold it.” The cross hairs were aligned on the walls. Zack’s breathing was labored as he concentrated on flying directly at the eastern wall of the prison. A strong wind was blowing out of the east, knocking down the smoke from the earlier bombs. Zack killed the drift with a combination of rudder and aileron. “Indicies are moving,” Ruffy told him. At exactly seventy yards short of the walls, the indicies crossed and two bombs separated cleanly from the Mosquito. Shed of a thousand pounds, the agile aircraft ballooned as Zack firewalled the throttles and climbed to clear the prison. He could see dark figures running across the yard—soldiers.

  “The walls!” Zack shouted. “I didn’t see any holes!” He couldn’t tell if the first element’s bombs had done their job.

  “Oh shit!” Ruffy yelled. One of their bombs had bounced over the walls and was skipping over the courtyard below them. “Pull up!” Zack saw the bomb and hauled back on the yoke, climbing to six hundred feet as the bomb slammed into the west wall and exploded. Then they dropped back to the deck and flew over the town.

  “Dypeg is off the target,” Zack radioed. “Results unknown. We will reattack.” He turned to the right, circling back onto the prison.

  “Roger, Dypeg,” Pickard answered. “Cannon, do you have the target in sight?”

  “Roger,” Wing Commander Bob Iredale answered. The cool Australian was leading 464 Squadron and attacking from the north.

  “Continue,” Pickard ordered. “K for King,” he told Zack, “have another go at the walls after Cannon clears the target.”

  “Roger,” Zack answered.

  Another voice came over the radio. “K for King, sorry we’re late. Had some trouble on engine start. Mind if we follow you in?” It was the Film Production Unit pilot. Zack grunted an answer. He never remembered what he told them.

  Ruffy twisted in his seat to check their deep right. “Tallyho the death and glory boys,” he said. He could clearly see the cameraman in the perspex nose of the Film Production Unit Mosquito as it closed on them. “They must want to record all this for posterity.”

  Zack turned back toward the prison and sandwiched between the two elements that made up the second wave and were attacking from the north at a right angle to their first run-in. The Mosquitoes in front of him slowed, lifted over the walls, and dropped back down. They were going after the guards’ barracks. Ruffy had his head back over the bomb sight. It was harder for Zack to kill their drift since they were now in a crosswind. Billows of smoke erupted from the prison and obscured the target. He hadn’t expected that and skidded K for King to the left to clear the smoke. “Aim for the right side of the wall,” he told Ruffy.

  “Got it,” Ruffy shouted. “Steady, steady, bombs gone.” Free of its bomb load, the Mosquito streaked over the walls.

  The radio cracked. “K for King, would you mind going around again? That last footage looked very good.” It was the Film Unit pilot who was still in tight formation with K for King.

  “Can do,” Zack answered.

  “Have you gone around the twist?” Ruffy complained. “What ever happened to the daytime rules?”

  But the request was exactly what Zack wanted to hear. He wrenched the Mosquito back around to fall in behind the last element of inbound Australians. He could see both Pickard’s Mosquito orbiting to the east and the Mosquitoes that were bearing down on the prison. The Film Unit Mosquito was still with him. Two Focke-Wulfs dropped down out of the overcast and cut across the town, apparently not seeing the attacking Mosquitoes.

  Zack hit the radio transmit button. “Two bandits over the town. Focke-Wulfs.”

  “Heads up, gentlemen,” Pickard answered as the last element of 464 Squadron worked the prison over. Flames and smoke belched from the main building.

  “K for King,” the pilot of the filming crew radioed, “are you continuing the run?”

  “Roger,” Zack answered. “Stay with us” He desperately wanted to see if prisoners were escaping and perhaps identify on film if any were women.

  “Bonkers, you’ve gone bloody bonkers,” Ruffy said. Zack dropped back onto the deck and flew a tight arc to the north as he turned back toward the prison. The film Mossie fell behind, not able to match K for King
’s speed. Both Zack and Ruffy saw Pickard’s F for Freddie as it flew by the prison, surveying the damage. Pickard’s jubilant voice came over the radio. “Mission accomplished. Repeat, mission accomplished. Let’s go home.” Pickard had seen numerous prisoners running from the building and would not send the third squadron in.

  The radios squawked as pilots reported being engaged by Focke-Wulfs. One voice reported being hit by ground fire and going in. “My God!” Ruffy shouted. “That’s McRitchie. Time to break it off,” the navigator pleaded. “What’s Pick doing?” He had caught a glimpse of F for Freddie circling to the east.

  “Might as well have a last look at the prison since we’re almost there,” Zack told him. He rooted the airspeed on 300. Running across the field in front of the wall was a line of German soldiers. “Right-fucking-on!” Zack gritted, his words giving sound to his intent. There was a viciousness in his voice Ruffy had never heard before. The Englishman had lived with Zack for almost three years and had come to know the power in the man’s voice, how he could charm and cheer, cajole and convince. But this was new and its meaning was clear—Zack wanted to kill.

  Ruffy cast a sideways glance at his pilot and fear shot through the Englishman. He did not sit side by side with Zack but slightly aft and could see Zack’s face in full profile. He had never seen a true killing rage in a man before and what he saw was terrifying. Zack’s head was thrust slightly forward and the oxygen mask he wore appeared for all the world as a raptor’s beak, ready to shred its prey. His skin was taut and drawn round the edges of his mask. He was totally focused and it came to Ruffy that Zack would kill deliberately and with malice. This was not his friend beside him but a different being, the spawn of war, all that he hated in the enemy. And he was part of it.

  Zack wanted to kill. He tapped the rudder pedals and skidded the Mosquito until he had the line of soldiers in his gunsight. He mashed the firing button for the machine guns. Bursts of snow kicked up as he walked the shells through the soldiers. Every dark figure fell to the ground. Ruffy caught a glimpse of prisoners darting out of the hole they had inadvertently blasted in the west wall. Some were running across the road and he saw figures motioning them to safety. Zack lifted K for King over the wall and zoomed over the prison as he peeled off to the east, turning in the direction to where they had last seen Pickard.