by Ellie Dean
Two cones of bright headlights advanced slowly at the far end of the runway before turning, whilst others shone out into the jungle, or across the strip. A plane passed directly below them, pale points of fire shimmering from the exhausts as another circled above, with yet another above that.
The pilot eased back on the throttle, and with a heave and a lift the undercarriage came down. There was another heave as the wing-flaps opened, and then they descended swiftly, landing with two soft bumps on the runway which had been finished only the day before. The usual jungle trees flashed by as the earth raced in a blur beneath them until the plane lost speed and the tail began to sag.
Another group of men were sent quickly to push against the rumps of the mules, which were once again fighting their restraints, as the plane taxied to a halt and then the bay doors were flung open. Long ramps were hastily brought to unload the mules, and once they were clear, Jim and the men jumped down and were ordered off the airstrip away from the lights and the growling engines into the cover of the surrounding jungle.
Guards were organised and patrols were sent out to search for fresh water, but for the rest it was a chance to eat, relax and swap tall tales. As always, the gossip was rife amongst the men. There had been no real disasters, though it was said that a USAAF plane had turned too quickly on the ground, chopping off a section of tail from an RAF plane that was already parked. The USAAF officer in charge of the flying ops was now said to be using the cockpit of his own plane as a control tower.
‘Ach, to be sure this tastes all right,’ said Jim appreciatively, tucking into one of his packets of K-ration, ‘but what I wouldn’t give for Peg’s steak and kidney pudding right now. Set me up good and proper, so it would.’
Ernie grunted and tucked into his own rations while swarms of huge red ants scurried about over them on their busy way – strangely not at all interested in biting them, or stealing their food. ‘I wonder how long we’ll be stuck here,’ Ernie said eventually.
Jim shrugged. ‘For as long as it takes to get everyone here.’ He pulled his half of blanket around him and lay with his head resting on his backpack to watch the planes coming in. One landed and took off every three minutes by his reckoning, each plane being allowed twenty-four minutes on the ground to unload, turn around, refuel and take off again. It was certainly a tightly run, efficient operation, and it was amazing that the Japs hadn’t caught wind of it.
As he watched them cruise overhead like shoals of glistening, ghostly fish, Jim was finally lulled to sleep by the sound of their droning – yet was subliminally alert for the sound of enemy aircraft engines.
It was close to dawn on the third day when the final plane had unloaded its cargo and taken off. The American air commando in charge climbed down from his makeshift control tower and was joined by two others as they went to inspect the abandoned RAF plane with the chunk hacked out of its tail.
Jim, who’d been stuck on guard duty since midnight, shifted a bit nearer to listen in to the conversation, and was startled to hear one of them speculate that it could probably still fly despite the damage. They talked it over for a bit and then one of them said that he was willing to give it a go.
Jim watched in admiration as the RAF plane climbed away in a wide turn to be followed by the American C-47. With a wry smile, he wondered how long it would take after landing at Hailakandi before the RAF insignia was replaced by the USAF star and diagonal white stripes proclaiming that she now belonged to no 1 air commando.
The shout of his commanding officer snapped him from his thoughts and he raced back to hear the orders of the day. They had two weeks to make the 130-mile march to a rendezvous point, but before they could reach that, they had the mighty Irrawaddy to cross.
It was now bright daylight, the heat and humidity rising by the minute. They’d been marching in battle formation for about an hour, the flank scouts on their right following the path of the river, the forty heavily laden mules and their keepers keeping pace at the rear.
They were marching through a plantation of small teak trees interspersed with others that were also small, but unfamiliar. They were slender, giving no shade or cover, and some were gaunt, grey skeletons that had been girdled and killed for felling by the Burmese loggers. The terrain was mercifully flat, but covered with the huge, curled leaves of the recently fallen trees over a layer of the powdery compost left over the years. These fresher leaves crackled alarmingly beneath their heavy boots, and every man was alert to a possible ambush, for surely they could be heard for miles.
And then, at a signal, the long column came to an abrupt halt and hit the ground. They could now hear the drone of swiftly approaching aircraft and knew instantly they were not friendly. Carbines, machine guns and Brens were readied, sights aimed towards the sound.
‘What stinking luck to be caught so early on,’ breathed Jim into the leafy detritus as the huge column watched the nine Zeroes pass overhead at about 5,000 feet, the low sun shining on the red circle of Japan that was painted on the underside of their wings.
‘They’ll turn and come down at us out of the sun,’ replied Ernie, clutching his Thompson sub-machine gun. ‘But I’m ready for the bastards,’ he snarled.
Jim did a rapid calculation in his head. Nine Zeroes equalled fifty-four machine guns – but they could shoot back, and with such skilled and battle-hardened men in their ranks, the odds were just about even if their luck held.
The Zeroes peeled off and dived out of sight. The distant roar of machine-gun fire was carried faintly to them through the jungle to be followed by the boom, crash and thud of exploding bombs.
Jim, Ernie and the rest of the column lay there on the leaf-strewn ground in great puzzlement as the onslaught in the distance continued for about five minutes – and then they realised what had happened, and began to chuckle in glee.
Gliders had brought in bulldozers to improve the airstrip for the mass fly-in. Some of these light aircraft had suffered the usual mishaps of missing their target, smashing themselves in the jungle or landing too heavily. They’d been abandoned, some clearly still laden with petrol cans for fuelling the bulldozers, and these were what the Japs had spotted rather than the column of men in the jungle, and were now proceeding to give these derelict wrecks hell.
Jim and the others rested on their elbows to watch pillars of oily black smoke rise to the east of the column’s position, and the Zeroes – no doubt congratulating themselves on a successful mission – went back into formation and returned to base unaware of the watching men beneath them.
Jim and Ernie grinned at one another as they dusted themselves down, got back into line and resumed the march. They’d survived to fight another day, but for how much longer would their luck hold?
40
Cliffehaven
Peggy had just finished her long shift at the uniform factory, and was now steering the pushchair through the April twilight towards home. She listened to Daisy’s happy prattling about her little friend Chloe and her day at the crèche, but her mind was really on Pauline, and the difficult conversation that could no longer be avoided if the harmony of Beach View was to be safeguarded.
Peggy had promised Frank she’d keep an eye on Pauline while he was away, but she hadn’t reckoned on her moving into Beach View for the duration of his absence. It was proving very difficult to withstand her moody silences, the sudden fits of bad temper, the tears, and her habit of disappearing upstairs every night straight after tea and not coming down again until morning.
Things had come to a head the previous evening when she’d snapped at Ivy for not being sympathetic. This had led to Ivy telling her she was a miserable, moany old cow, and they were all fed up with her, before slamming out of the house. Rita had defended Ivy and followed her out, and then Cordelia had told Pauline rather sharply to pull herself together and stop enjoying her misery, which elicited tears from Pauline and her storming upstairs to her room. It couldn’t go on, for Peggy hated discord, and she was determined to put thi
ngs right, no matter how tricky it became.
The kitchen was warm and welcoming, the lovely smell of vegetable stew and dumplings making her mouth water in anticipation. Sarah was setting the table as Fran stirred the stew and checked on the potatoes, closely watched by Queenie from her shelf above the sink. Cordelia was berating Ron over the mess he’d left in his bedroom, while Rita and Ivy were giggling over some article in the Picture Post. Harvey lay snoozing at Pauline’s feet as she smoked a cigarette and stared into space, unaware of his presence.
Peggy waited until tea was over and she’d settled Daisy for the night before going upstairs to find Pauline and have things out with her. Opening the door without bothering to knock, she wasn’t surprised to find her curled on the bed, her face almost buried in the pillow as she wept.
Peggy tamped down on the surge of irritation, and went to sit beside her to take her hand. ‘This has to stop, Pauline,’ she said firmly. ‘If you carry on, you’ll make yourself ill, and that won’t help anyone – least of all Frank and Brendon.’
Pauline sniffed, dabbed her eyes and slowly sat up. ‘You don’t understand the torturous worry I’m going through,’ she said mournfully. ‘Frank wrote to say he and Brendon are in the same place, but he didn’t say where, or what they were involved in – and I just know they’re in danger.’
‘You don’t know anything of the sort,’ said Peggy briskly. ‘At least they’re together, and as Frank is a volunteer over a certain age, they’ll still be in England – not out in Burma fighting the Japs, like my Jim.’ Her tone sharpened. ‘And don’t you dare suggest that I don’t know what worry is, Pauline. I live with it day in and day out.’
‘You haven’t lost two sons,’ she said, mopping her eyes.
‘And I thank God for that every day – but that is not the issue here. You’ve got to stop looking back, Pauline, and consider how your behaviour is affecting the son and husband who are still alive.’
Pauline stared at her accusingly through tear-filled eyes. ‘They love me and understand my awful suffering, which is more than you do.’
‘I tell you what, Pauline,’ Peggy said evenly, ‘if you weren’t so wrapped up in your misery, you just might see the damage you’re actually doing to them.’ She grasped her hands again. ‘It’s got to the stage where Brendon is almost afraid to come home in case you get upset and make him feel even guiltier at having survived when his brothers didn’t. Can you even begin to imagine what that must feel like?’
Pauline’s eyes widened in shock.
‘And poor Frank has had to shoulder his grief alone because you turned your back on him and refused to let him reach out to you. Now he’s doing his best for his country, and instead of making him feel guilty, you should be telling him how proud you are.’
Pauline remained silent, her gaze sliding away.
Peggy quelled her rising anger and steadied her tone. ‘You know I’m speaking the truth, Pauline, so pull yourself together, and face the fact that there’s a war on. Men leave, and the future is uncertain for all of us; but while those men are fighting for our freedom we women have a duty to find the strength to hold things together until it’s won. If we don’t, then we dishonour the sacrifices made by your sons and all the others who gave their lives.’
Pauline dipped her chin. ‘Mum said something like that in her last letter,’ she muttered. ‘But what does she know? She doesn’t stick around long enough to find out how I’m really feeling.’
‘Now you’re just being childish,’ snapped Peggy. ‘Dolly would be here in an instant if she thought she was really needed, but she knows you’re surrounded by people who care about you. But I warn you, Pauline, there’s only so much sympathy to go round when they have their own worries, and if you don’t buck up, you’ll find yourself very much alone – and I don’t think that’s what you want at all.’
She regarded the bowed head and the fingers pulling at the sodden handkerchief, and felt a stab of guilt for being so harsh. But if she was to get the message through to Pauline, this was not the time for sympathy and soft words – but a hefty dose of reality.
‘Carol isn’t wringing her hands and feeling sorry for herself,’ she continued. ‘She might have lost her husband and baby, and been evicted from her home, but she’s knuckled down to doing her bit on that farm without complaining. Yes, it’s tough, and life can be cruel, but if we want to see an end to this bloody war, then that’s what we all have to do. Weeping and wailing and being miserable cuts no ice with any of us – and frankly we’ve all had enough of it.’
Pauline swung her legs off the bed. ‘If that’s how you feel, then I’ll go,’ she snapped. ‘Ivy and the others have made it very plain that I’m not welcome here.’
Peggy grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. ‘Wake up, Pauline, and ask yourself why they feel that way,’ she said crossly. ‘You do nothing but moan and feel sorry for yourself – it’s no wonder Ivy snapped at you last night. You need to sort yourself out. All this misery isn’t healthy and it’s starting to affect everyone.’
Pauline burst into tears and collapsed into Peggy’s arms. ‘I didn’t realise Brendon felt that way,’ she sobbed. ‘Or that I’d shut Frank out when he most needed me.’ She took a trembling breath. ‘Oh, Peggy, how could I not have seen – what have I done?’
Peggy held her close and tenderly stroked her hair, the anger swept away. ‘You were simply lost in your grief, holding it so tightly inside you that it made you blind to everything else,’ she said quietly. ‘But now you know, you can put things right between you – and that will, in turn, make you feel very much better.’
Pauline eased away from the embrace, her reddened eyes full of hope. ‘Do you believe that, Peggy? It’s not too late for them to forgive me?’
‘It’s never too late for forgiveness, Pauline, especially between people who love one another.’
She reddened and dipped her chin again. ‘I’ve behaved very badly, haven’t I? It’s no wonder everyone here wants to see the back of me.’
‘It has been difficult,’ said Peggy evenly, ‘but I’m sure that once you show them you’re doing your best to make amends, they’ll come round. They’re good people, Pauline, and always willing to open their hearts. They know what you’ve been through, and understand how hard that must have been for you – but Sarah’s separated from her family and worried sick about her fiancé and father; Rita’s terrified for Matthew; Ivy barely survived the bomb at the armament factory and is still having nightmares; and Fran has to witness the most awful things at the hospital. Poor Cordelia puts up a brave front, but I know she feels deeply for all of them, and is saddened by the way this blessed war has stripped them of the joys of their youth. So you see, you’re not alone, Pauline. We all have our sorrows.’
Pauline dried her eyes and straightened her shoulders. ‘Thanks for making me see how things really are. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, but it’s what I needed.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘I’ll write to Frank and Brendon tonight, and after my shift with the WVS tomorrow, I think I’ll go home and start on the spring cleaning. Frank will appreciate having a nice fresh home to come back to.’
‘You don’t have to go,’ said Peggy.
‘I know, but it’s time to stand on my own two feet and get on with all the things I’ve let slide.’ She gave Peggy a hug. ‘I’m so glad I have you, Peggy.’
Peggy returned the hug. ‘I’ll always be here if you need someone to talk to.’ She pulled gently back from the embrace and smiled. ‘Let’s go downstairs and listen to ITMA on the wireless, while I make us all a nice cup of tea.’
Pauline looked hesitant, and Peggy pulled her to her feet. ‘The first step is always the hardest, but I’m with you all the way. Come on, love. They won’t bite.’
It was a week later and Peggy was near the end of her shift at Goldman’s. She finished sewing the bell-bottom trousers, cut the thread and added them to the neat pile next to her machine. She hadn’t had a cigarette since her lunch b
reak, for there were strict rules about not smoking on the factory floor, and she felt the need for one now, along with a reviving cuppa.
She nodded and smiled at the girl who came to fetch the finished garments, then stretched her back and eased her stiff shoulders before gathering up her coat and bag and heading over to where her friend Gracie Armitage was in charge of the cutting tables.
Gracie was a decade younger than Peggy, but the moment they’d met on the promenade they’d become friends, for their little girls were about the same age, Gracie’s husband was in the RAF and the two women shared the burden of worry over their men and the struggle to make ends meet in these austere times of rationing and uncertainty.
‘Shall we grab a cuppa in the canteen before we fetch the girls from the nursery?’ Peggy suggested.
Gracie set aside her lethally sharp shears and took off her overall and headscarf. ‘That sounds like a very good idea. With all this lint floating about, my mouth’s as dry as a desert.’
The canteen was busy during shift changes, and the many voices echoed in the large, featureless annexe with its concrete floor, tin roof, bare walls and metal furniture. They fetched their tea from the counter and found a table in a corner where they could catch up after not seeing one another for a week.
‘I’m glad the night shifts are over,’ said Gracie once they’d both lit cigarettes. ‘It’s almost impossible to sleep during the day, especially with Chloe being at her liveliest. I’ve told Solly I won’t do it again – though I’ll certainly miss the extra money.’
Peggy thought it was a bit of a liberty of Solly to have asked her to come in on the night shifts when he knew she was in sole charge of a lively three-year-old who could not be left in the factory crèche for twenty-four hours a day over a whole week. But an emergency order had come in from the army, Gracie’s deputy had refused point-blank to change her duty roster, and as Gracie was the senior cutter, she’d had little choice. Peggy had felt very guilty at not being able to help with Chloe, but as her own shifts were during the day, it had simply not been possible.
