Wings of the Morning

by Beryl Matthews

The place was crowded with British, American, Polish and Australian military personnel; in fact, there seemed to be just about every accent you could think of.

  Sam kept Annie firmly in his sights, and made it clear from the moment they walked in that she was with him. Any amorous approach to her, and there were many, was quickly rebuffed; it amused her that he was being so possessive.

  The table was soon littered with drinks, the French accent had appeared, and she had never laughed so much in her life. It was wonderful, and after the last traumatic year she revelled in feeling light-hearted and normal.

  ‘You ought to be on the stage,’ she chided, after listening to him having a ridiculous conversation with a group of Americans. He had pretended that he couldn’t understand what they were saying, and in the end had them completely confused.

  ‘If I didn’t know you, I would really believe you couldn’t speak English properly.’

  He grinned again. ‘Ah, would you deny a man a bit of fun with these allies of ours?’

  ‘No,’ she giggled, ‘but they were trying to be polite and ask you where you lived in France and how you came to be over here, but you tied them up in knots and didn’t say a thing they could understand.’

  He leant forward until his mouth was touching her ear. ‘You think we should tell them that we are spies?’

  Of course not!’ She thumped him playfully as he nibbled her ear. ‘Anyway, you might be, but I’m not.’

  ‘Oh, yes you are.’ He sat back and pulled a tatty sheet of paper out of his top pocket, then read it thoughtfully. ‘I have your name on my list. ACW Webster, it says here … spy.’

  She roared with laughter and made a grab for the paper, but wasn’t quick enough. He stuffed it back in his pocket before she could get her hands on it. ‘Group Captain André Riniou, you are incorrigible.’

  He frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Don’t you start that with me,’ she threatened. ‘And my glass is empty; what kind of an escort are you?’

  ‘I don’t think I can drink much of this warm English beer,’ he complained, and sighed. ‘Oh, to have a bottle of exquisite French wine …’

  One of their group tottered up with a tray loaded with pints. ‘Come on, drink up, those Yanks are miles ahead of us, they’ve been here for hours.’

  Annie smiled as Sam downed a pint in two gulps. He didn’t seem to be having any trouble making do with the English beer after all. Suddenly she remembered something. ‘I wonder if they’ve got any chocolate with them?’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Sam grabbed her as she stood up. ‘Do you know what they want for a bar of chocolate?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ she told him, trying to look innocent. Tales were rife about these young men who were pouring into this country. A lot of the British servicemen resented them because they had more money, and attracted the girls with gifts of nylon stockings and chocolate. Over-paid, oversexed and over here, was the common grumble, but no one could deny that this country was relieved to welcome them into the fight.

  ‘A quick grope around the back of the pub, and more if they can get it.’ Sam pulled her back into her seat again. ‘What do you want sweets for?’

  ‘I want some for James and Kate.’

  Sam’s expression softened. ‘Ah, Rose’s children. Would they like some, do you think?’

  ‘They’d love it.’ There was a sweets allowance on the ration, but it was hard to get even that, and usually involved a lot of queuing. When she’d been a child sweets had been a luxury they couldn’t afford, but this generation of children just couldn’t get them, or very few anyway.

  ‘In that case,’ he stood up, ‘they shall have some.’

  Annie watched him talking animatedly with a group of American soldiers, and after a while he came back and handed her two small bars of chocolate. ‘Goodness. How did you manage that?’ she asked.

  He put his head on one side and studied her intently. ‘I can be very persuasive when I need to be.’

  She was beginning to believe that was true. If Sam wanted something bad enough he wouldn’t be averse to putting on the French charm to get it.

  At that moment all conversation was made impossible as a British soldier started thumping out all the favourite tunes on the piano, and everyone started to sing at the tops of their voices. Even the Americans, who appeared to love the pubs and enjoy the beer!

  18

  September 1942

  Annie was about to go on duty when she was told to report to Sam. Jean was also waiting to see him when she arrived.

  ‘Do you know what this is about?’ Jean asked.

  ‘No.’ Annie could understand why Jean looked so puzzled because it wasn’t like Sam to be so formal. If he wanted to see you he usually ambled up, said what he had to say, and then strolled away again. To be summoned to his office was very unusual, and intriguing.

  The office door opened and Sam looked out. ‘Good, you’re both here. Come in and shut the door behind you.’

  Annie and Jean cast each other amused glances. Sam’s door was never closed!

  They did as ordered and stood to attention in front of his desk. The corners of his mouth twitched at their military bearing.

  ‘Sit down, I have something to tell you.’ He waited until they’d settled. ‘You’ve been given new postings and I want you ready to leave within the hour.’

  Annie gasped in surprise, while Jean appeared to be speechless. This was very sudden.

  ‘There’s an RAF intercept station called Chicksands Priory, in Bedfordshire,’ Sam explained. ‘Men have staffed it until now, but they’re moving out and WAAF wireless operators are replacing them. I’ve volunteered the two of you to accompany me.’

  ‘Is this place special?’ Annie asked.

  ‘It’s going to play an important part in the war effort. And you, Annie, are the most talented operator I’ve come across. You pick up messages others miss, and you also recognize individual operators by the way they key the Morse transmissions. You’re just what they need there.’

  Annie was stunned, but pleased with the praise, as she knew Sam didn’t say anything unless he meant it.

  ‘But I’m not a wireless operator,’ Jean pointed out.

  ‘They need clerical staff as well, and I’m going to need you to handle the paperwork.’ He stood up and glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll meet you outside in forty-five minutes.’

  They didn’t even have time to say goodbye to everyone as Sam hustled them into a truck to take them to the station. Much to Annie’s relief Sam wasn’t driving.

  There was one thing about being in the forces, Annie thought as the train chugged its way through the countryside, you certainly travelled around. The train was crowded as usual, making conversation impossible, so she gazed out of the window. She was sorry in a way to leave Cheadle as there had been some breathtaking walks in the area, but from the little Sam had told her the new posting sounded exciting.

  Annie was shaken from her reverie when the train stopped and women from the Women’s Voluntary Service came round with welcome refreshments. She smiled her thanks at the woman who handed her a cup of hot tea and a sandwich. Then they were on their way again. Everyone had the greatest respect for the women of the WVS. They worked tirelessly and often in very dangerous situations, like during the Blitz, but they always had a cheery smile and a joke when you met them. She could understand why Rose had joined them.

  The rhythmic clatter of the train lulled Annie into sleep and she wasn’t aware of the journey until Jean shook her awake at Bedford station. There was a truck waiting to take them the rest of the way. They drove through the town towards Shefford, and then turned right into a country lane, and another right turn brought them to some gates with a guardroom just inside.

  Sam had obviously been there before, because, after their papers were checked, he pointed to some Nissen huts set under trees. ‘Annie, you’re in the first one, and Jean’s in the one next to it. Jean, once you’ve stowed your gear,
report to the offices and I’ll meet Annie here in half an hour.’

  They hurried off, eager to find out what their new posting was going to be like.

  There were sixteen beds in Annie’s hut and several were obviously empty, so she chose one about halfway down the hut. It looked as if there were a few girls to come yet, and she hoped they were going to be as nice as most of the others she’d met. Her mouth turned up in a smile as she remembered the first crowd she’d met back in February 1940. She wondered where they all were now. She unpacked her washing things and then looked around. The hut had beds, and that was all, so where on earth was she going to put her clothes? There weren’t any cupboards.

  ‘You’ll have to keep your knickers in a box under the bed, I’m afraid.’

  Annie recognized the voice, spun around and let out a squeal of delight. ‘Dora, what are you doing here?’

  Her friend grinned at her and tossed a cardboard box on to Annie’s bed. ‘That’s your wardrobe.’ She hugged Annie and danced her around the hut. ‘Oh, I’m so happy to see you. I got fed up with Compton Bassett, it wasn’t so much fun after you left, and when I heard they needed clerical staff for this place I volunteered.’

  Annie was so delighted by this unexpected turn of events that she hugged Dora warmly. ‘I’m so pleased.’

  ‘Me too. I’ve been here three weeks, and when I saw all these girls fiddling with wireless sets I hoped they might send you here.’

  Annie stuffed her clothes into the box and shoved it under the bed; she’d sort that out later. ‘I must introduce you to Jean. She comes from Stepney as well.’

  ‘If she’s the bubbly WAAF with blonde hair and baby-blue eyes, then I’ve already met her. She’s in my hut.’ Dora glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve promised to show her where the offices are so I must fly. See you later, Annie.’

  Annie watched her friend hurtle out the door and then went in search of Sam. He was waiting outside smoking a cigarette, which he stubbed out as she walked towards him.

  ‘Good, that didn’t take you long. Now I’ll show you where we are going to work.’

  She fell into step beside him. ‘You obviously know this place, Sam.’

  ‘I’ve been here quite often, Annie, and when they asked me to transfer, I wanted to bring you with me.’ He gave her a sideways glance. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Not at all, I liked Cheadle but it does hold some painful memories for me, and once I’d got used to the idea I wasn’t too sorry to leave.’ Annie knew that a change of location was probably a good thing at this point. The memories of Paul and Jack would always be with her, and she was glad about that, but it was time to move on. There was still a war to be won.

  Sam stopped in front of a door, opened it and then they walked down some steps into the operations room. Annie looked around eagerly. There were rows of desks, each one partitioned off into small cubby-holes, and most occupied with WAAFs concentrating on their wireless sets.

  ‘Annie,’ Sam said, touching her arm, ‘this is Wing Commander Felshaw.’

  The wing commander was of medium height with brown hair sprinkled with grey; but the thing that struck her most about him was the shadows of tiredness beneath his brown eyes. The gathering of information was vital, and although they worked quietly in the background the demands on their time and concentration were immense.

  ‘Glad you’re here,’ he told her. ‘Sam’s given us a glowing report of your abilities and we badly need experienced operators.’

  Sam gave Annie a sly wink and sauntered off, leaving her to settle into her new post.

  The wing commander showed her to a vacant desk and sat down beside her. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to explain the job to you, but I’ll run through it anyway. You will be given a radio frequency to work on each day. Write down any messages you pick up, ring the bell and someone will take it to be deciphered.’

  ‘I understand, sir.’

  With a brief nod, he hauled himself to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’

  Annie finished her shift by seven that evening, and as there was no sign of Sam she asked directions to the mess and headed there. She heard Dora’s laugh as soon as she walked through the door, and found her sitting at a table with Jean. If the laughter was anything to go by, then the two girls were getting along well. She made her way over to them, feeling her spirits rise; it was going to be lovely having both Dora and Jean here.

  ‘Ah, you’re free at last.’ Dora grabbed a chair from another table for her. ‘Get yourself something to eat. They’re giving a concert in the old house here, and we’re going.’

  ‘What kind of a concert?’ she asked. She’d seen some of the ones put on by the troops at Cheadle, and although great fun Annie wasn’t sure she wanted to watch amateurs tonight. It had been a long, tiring day.

  Dora laughed at her doubtful expression. ‘You’ll like this; it’s classical music. I’ve seen them before and they’re good.’

  ‘In that case I’d love to come.’ Annie loved classical music and decided that an evening in the company of friends would be a lovely way to spend her first night.

  The airman playing the piano was excellent and his repertoire extensive, from Beethoven to Gershwin. A WAAF sang some Vera Lynn songs, and a squadron leader thrilled them with music from Madame Butterfly. The forces were crammed with talent and this intercept station was clearly no exception.

  When the concert ended at eleven o’clock, Annie was ready for bed, but Dora wouldn’t hear of it, declaring that they had far too much catching up to do. Although Annie had kept in touch with Dora through letters, they hadn’t seen each other since Compton Bassett, so she stifled a yawn and agreed.

  The hut Jean and Dora were in was in darkness but Annie’s still had lights on, and it sounded as if there was a party going on. So they headed for that, not wanting to disturb the other girls if they were asleep. When they walked in Dora started to chuckle. ‘Ah, Annie, this brings back memories, doesn’t it?’

  It certainly did. More girls had obviously arrived during the evening, and they were all sitting on the bunks, cups in their hands and eating sandwiches.

  One tall girl stood and held out her hand. ‘I’m Gladys, welcome to Chicksands. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Thanks.’ Annie recognized Gladys as one of the wireless operators she’d seen in the ops room.

  There was a scramble to introduce themselves, and then they all sat down again. Cups were thrust into their hands. Annie took a sip, gasped, and everyone in the hut collapsed with roars of laughter.

  ‘What is this?’ Annie said hoarsely. She looked across at Dora who was licking her lips in obvious enjoyment.

  ‘Just a dash of bourbon,’ Gladys explained.

  ‘What’s that?’ Annie had recovered a little by now but her voice was husky and her eyes were watering.

  ‘It’s the Yanks’ idea of whisky.’ Gladys sat back and crossed her long legs in a provocative pose that reminded Annie of her time as a fashion editor. ‘I’m going out with one and they can get anything.’

  ‘Great!’ Dora held out her mug. ‘I’ll have another one of those.’

  After that they talked for a couple of hours, and by the time they packed up for the night Annie knew the life history of everyone in the hut. She went to bed late, but happy, and glowing from two slugs of bourbon. It wasn’t too bad as long as you tossed it back quickly. She smiled to herself as she settled down for the night; this was going to be a good posting, she was sure.

  Two days later Annie was delighted to receive some letters that had been redirected. She had thought it might take a few more days before the post caught up with her, and letters were so important to everyone in these times of long separations. There was one from Rose, with carefully penned notes from James and Kate thanking her for the chocolate that Sam had cadged from the Americans. There was another from her mother and Wally giving her news received from Will somewhere at sea. The last was in a bold hand. Reid! Blast the man, he was turning o
ut to be as stubborn as his brother had been. It must be a family trait.

  She searched through her bag and found the pen she was looking for. Perhaps this would get the message through!

  19

  October 1942

  Oh, dear, Annie Webster, you’re going the wrong way about getting rid of me, Reid thought. As he read the note again he laughed.

  ‘What’s amused you?’ Bouncer sat beside him and peered at the letter.

  Reid held it up. It was written by him, but had been returned with the words Go away written in green ink at the bottom. He chuckled again.

  ‘Are you making a nuisance of yourself with someone?’ his friend asked, rubbing his left arm.

  ‘Hmm. Is that arm still bothering you?’

  ‘Yes. It’s taking too long to heal and this damp autumn weather doesn’t help. I hate being grounded.’ He glanced at Reid’s expression and held up his good hand. ‘I know, I should have bailed out.’

  ‘Yes,’ Reid told him. ‘You’ve tried that trick once too often.’

  Bouncer sighed. ‘I really thought I could get down safely.’

  ‘With no rudder control and only one wheel down, not to mention a bloody great hole in the wing?’ Reid shook his head in despair. His friend was lucky he hadn’t blown himself to bits.

  ‘Underestimated the damage, eh?’ Bouncer sat back and grinned.

  ‘Anyway, thanks for getting me transferred to Tangmere. I’d have gone mad at Kenley with nothing to do.’

  ‘I needed someone to help me with the job of station commander, and you are just the man.’ Reid managed to keep a straight face, but with considerable difficulty. Bouncer was next to useless on the ground but he was glad to have him around. He found the station commander’s job lonely after the camaraderie of the squadron, and it made Bouncer feel useful. And it was keeping his friend out of the air, which was much more important. How Bouncer had survived so far was nothing short of a miracle, as he took unimaginable risks.

  ‘I’m glad to be here, but I can’t believe you really need anyone. You’re as organized and efficient on the ground as you are in the air. Tangmere is running like clockwork because of you.’ Bouncer nodded towards the note. ‘You still haven’t told me who you’re pestering.’