"All right, Dad. I'll go and find him, and swap notes about Dunkirk."
David found his younger brother sitting with his back against a pine tree, gazing up towards the imposing presence of Heronfield House.
“Hello, Tony. It's a bit of a come down living at the lodge, isn't it!"
Tony leapt to his feet, laughing delightedly as he hugged his brother.
"David! It's good to see you!" He looked back towards the house in which they had both grown up. "Actually, I was thinking how strange it is not to be able to use our own home, and how much more difficult it must be for Grandmamma to know that her home is in enemy hands."
David nodded as they both sat down on the cool grass. "Yes, it must be hard, but she seems to be taking it well."
"I think she just hides her feelings. I'm sure the incident at Mers-el-Kebir has upset her deeply. I know we had to fire on the French Fleet to stop it falling into German hands and all that, but it still meant British fighting French, and I'm sure she finds that hard to accept. A betrayal, really."
David nodded gravely. "I see what you mean. Still, she’s lucky to be out of it and safe here with us. It was good of you to go out there to fetch her. I’d have gone, but I couldn’t get leave. We were too busy trying to defend the beaches.”
“What was it like to fly into battle?”
David looked across at his younger brother, wondering how he could explain the mixed emotions which had engulfed him as he flew, and as he watched his best friend die.
“It’s hard to explain.” His eyes took on a faraway look as he thought of his encounters with the enemy. “At first it was so exhilarating, there was so much happening that it was hard to be afraid. Then I lost a friend.”
“How?” Tony’s voice was soft, sympathetic.
“Shot down.” David was silent for a moment, then shook his head as though to clear his thoughts. “But I don’t want to talk about that. After…after we lost Martin I lost all the feelings of excitement, I just wanted revenge. It seemed strange to be flying without him. We’d not seen much action but we’d been together for quite a time, since training.” He smiled sadly. “It’s rare to find such a friend. Flying back to France the day after his death I couldn’t help thinking of the good times we’d spent together, wishing I could have done more to help him.” He turned an anguished face towards his brother. “Perhaps if I’d been able to intercept his attacker, he might not have died. But I have to admit that’s not all I felt when I flew that day. I was scared, scared that I might die the same way as Martin. It was so hard to focus on what lay ahead, all I could think of was Martin, that this could be my opportunity to avenge him. But I knew that if I only thought of Martin and revenge and didn’t concentrate this could be my last flight. I shot down an enemy that day. I didn’t find myself sympathising with him though, only hoping that his plane wouldn’t make it, that he would die like Martin, that it would go some way to avenging my friend’s death.” He turned towards Tony. “I suppose that sounds cold and heartless.”
The younger man shook his head. “No. It sounds perfectly human. How else were you supposed to feel?”
David smiled. “Thanks, Tony. I knew you’d understand. It’s as though you experienced it yourself.” Realising what he had said, he turned excitedly to his brother. “That reminds me! What were you doing at Dunkirk? I didn't think there were any civilians on the beaches?"
So, for the second time in a week, Tony found himself giving an account of his experiences from the time he had placed their grandmother on board ship for England, through the horror of the Stuka attack and his revenge attack on the Panzers, and through the desperate days heading towards the beaches and the hope of a ship home. He found himself struggling for words to explain the horror of the beaches to his brother, even though he could still see, and hear, and smell it all if he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back. David listened intently to his younger brother’s harrowing account of the beaches, the endless bombing, the waiting, the deaths.
“How long were you on the beaches?”
“Four nights.”
“Four nights! My God, Tony, it must have been hell!”
Tony nodded.
“You can’t imagine how it felt when we realized that it would be our last night on the beaches.” He looked across at his brother and David was shocked to see the pain and horror in his eyes. “You might find it hard to understand, but I was so desperate to see green fields and rolling hills again after the dirt and smoke and blood of the beaches.” Tony shuddered as he recalled his experiences. “As the light faded the Stukas came in for one final attack.” His gaze was distant as he relived the scenes. “God, it was awful, David. They sank a couple of ships. I could hear the screams and cries of the soldiers struggling for their lives in the cold water, but then they were drowned by the roar of Stukas and their machine guns. I’ll never forget that sound. Evil incarnate.” He shuddered and David was shocked by the pure hatred he heard in his brothers voice, shocked but able to understand after what had happened to Martin. He said nothing as Tony continued his nightmare tale, his voice little more than a whisper now. “I saw them strafing the wounded in the sea; another boat was hit and there were bodies, and bits of bodies, everywhere.” He was silent for a moment, remembering.
"The poor devils."
Tony nodded. “I was so thankful that it was getting dark. Then our lift home arrived. It seemed so odd, David, a little yacht which should have been giving kids a trip from the end of the pier floating in that living hell. It was almost surreal.” He laughed, but without any humour and David was saddened at the change in his younger brother. Not wishing to disturb the train of thoughts he remained silent as Tony continued.
“It was incredible, the bravery of those men. They were all civilians you know; they’d made the trip so many times before yet still came back to help us, to help me. I felt so small, as though I wasn’t worthy of the risk they were taking. I guess we all felt like that.” He shivered as he remembered the cold which had seemed to eat into his very bones. “I was standing in water up to my waist, and I had never felt so weak and tired before. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life.”
“You poor sod.”
“Yes, but at least I got away on that boat. I just couldn’t believe that those men, and boys, would make the trip to England and back time after time to help us. They were so brave, David, they all deserve bloody medals.”
“So that was it then?”
“Yes, thank God. I was so lucky to get off.” There were tears in his eyes as he looked across at his brother. “I never want to experience anything like that again. It was a living hell and I’m so glad I’m out of it.”
David reached out a comforting arm and the brothers embraced silently for a while, each thinking their own thoughts and struggling to bring their emotions under control. At last Tony pulled away, wiped his eyes and smiled at his brother.
“So there you have it. Seems like we’ve both seen our fair share of action already.”
"Well, it seems to me that you had your first taste of action before I did!" David smiled proudly at his brother through the residue of his tears. "It sounds as though you did well Tony, I'm proud of you. I suppose Dad is proud of you too, but he seemed a little strange when I spoke to him just now. He said you’d joined up, but he wouldn't tell me about it. What's that all about?"
Tony took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Talking about Dunkirk had been cathartic, he felt exhausted and just wanted to rest, but he couldn’t ignore David’s question. After his father’s reaction to his cover story, he knew that David would not be pleased. He dreaded telling him, but it had to be done. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother.
"You're in the RAF, David. You understand about taking orders and accepting that those above us know best, otherwise you would never have joined up."
David nodded, but said nothing.
"Well," Tony continued shakily, "I was approached by a certain ministry who feel that
the best contribution I can make is to work for them. After listening to them, I was convinced. I’m now a lieutenant in the Ministry of Economic Warfare."
David frowned. "Never heard of it. What's your job?"
"Liaising between the Ministry and the armaments factories." Tony took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he awaited the expected outburst from his brother. There was silence for a moment as David thought hard about what his brother had said. When he spoke his voice was disbelieving.
"Do you mean that you’ll be doing an office job? You won't see action at all?"
Tony nodded, well aware of his brother’s thinking, and feeling his own tension mounting. "Yes, but the job’s vital. We can't win the war without the right weapons."
"I know that!" David's voice betrayed his anger. "But that's the sort of job for men too old to fight, men like Dad. After what you've just told me, I’d have thought that you of all people would want to see action against Jerry."
"Believe me, David, I do; but I have to accept that my superiors know best."
David frowned. "If I didn't know you better, Tony I'd say that what you’ve seen and experienced in France has got to you. I think you’re afraid to go back out there and face Jerry again."
Tony's gaze was steady as he looked his brother in the eye. "You must believe me when I say that I’m not afraid, at least no more than the next man, no more than you. I want to see those bloody Nazis wiped off the face of the earth, and I’ll do everything I can to help accomplish that. I’d be happy to go out there and fight today, but this job is vital. I’m just doing the job that I’m most suited for, like you are. We’re not all cut out to be fighter pilots, David. My work is just as important as yours."
David shook his head in puzzlement, and rose to his feet. "I really don't understand you, Tony. I thought you’d want to fight. No wonder Dad seems so disappointed."
"He called me a coward." Tony's voice was filled with anger and pain as he spoke.
David thought of Martin’s smiling face, his eagerness to face the enemy, his quiet dignity as his lifeblood ebbed away in the plane which was to be his coffin. He thought of Martin’s younger brother, eager to serve in the same squadron, eager to fly and to fight to avenge his brother’s death. Then he looked back at his own brother, so keen to take a desk job, so keen to stay away from the danger which he and his comrades faced daily. There were none of Martin’s, or Andy’s, qualities there.
"Maybe he's right."
Without another word David turned and walked away.
Tony gazed longingly at the retreating back of his brother and then turned to look up at Heronfield House, though his eyes saw little of what was before them. The people he loved most in the entire world believed him to be a coward, when he knew his actions would prove the very opposite of that. Yet no matter how much he wanted to, he could not explain to them. How he hoped that the war would soon be over and he could tell them the truth, but there seemed little chance of that. If only there were someone he could talk to who would understand, someone who would accept him for who he was, and see that there is more than one way of fulfilling your duty. Then he saw a familiar figure walking in the gardens and his heart felt lighter. He remembered his earlier talk with Sarah and thought that perhaps talking to her now would help. He rose quickly to his feet and crossed the gardens to intercept her path.
"Hello, Sarah. I hope I'm not disturbing you."
Sarah smiled in greeting. "No, not at all. It's good to see you again, Tony."
"It's good to see you too." Tony smiled. He realised that he was glad to see Sarah again. Her infectious smile had made him feel better almost immediately, and he knew she would understand.
"I've just been talking to my brother," he said as he led her down towards the river where the herons fished in summer, and from which the house had derived its name.
"Was that handsome young man in the Air Force uniform your brother?" asked Sarah.
Tony smiled and nodded. David usually had that effect on women.
"Yes. I'm afraid I've upset him, and my parents, and I'm feeling rather bad about it."
Sarah frowned but said nothing. After a moment’s silence Tony spoke again.
"You said your boyfriend works in an aircraft factory?"
"Yes. Joe wanted to join up, but he was unfit. At least he feels he's doing his bit for the country in his own way. Why do you ask?"
"You think that his work is as important as the armed forces then?"
"Of course I do!” There was unconcealed anger in her voice. “Where would your brother’s squadron be without Joe? I hope you're not implying that he's not doing his bit?"
Tony reached out and took her hand. "No, Sarah! On the contrary! You see, the Ministry of Economic Warfare has made me a lieutenant, and I have to liaise with the armament factories. I think it’s a vital job." He turned his face away to look towards the river, but did not let go of Sarah’s hand. "The problem is that my family think I'm trying to avoid fighting. They think I'm a coward."
Sarah could feel his sadness and, sensing his need for reassurance, she squeezed his hand.
"You're not a coward, Tony. I suppose they were just expecting you to fight like your brother. I'm sure they'll get used to the idea when they see the value of your work."
Tony turned questioning eyes towards her. "You don't think I'm a coward then?"
"No. I’d have thought you’d want to fight, but I don't know anything about your job. I'm sure it’s important to the war effort. I'm sure you wouldn't do anything against your conscience. I suppose if you ever feel you're not doing enough, you could always get a transfer to an active unit."
Tony let out a strangled laugh. An active unit! He would see all the action he wanted in his present job, yet he could not explain that to the people he cared about. He noticed Sarah’s puzzled expression and stopped laughing.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed, but you have no idea of the irony of that. Yes, I could get a transfer if I wanted to, but I’ll do my best to make this job work first." He smiled. "Thanks for making me feel better. Shall we walk a little further?"
"I'm sorry Tony, but I have to get back on duty."
"Maybe some other time?"
Sarah nodded and looked down, suddenly aware that Tony was still holding her hand and that she was enjoying the sensation. Withdrawing her hand gently from his she turned away so that Tony would not see the blush on her cheeks. How could she enjoy holding Tony's hand when she was in love with Joe?
"I'll see you again soon," she called, as she hurried away in the direction of Heronfield House.
Tony said nothing. He, too, was conscious of the pleasure he had gained from holding her hand. He realised with a jolt that what he felt for Sarah was a deeper friendship than should be possible on such a short acquaintance. As he watched her hurry away, he hoped that it would not be too long before he saw her again.
17
David returned to his squadron, now back at RAF Manston, feeling in some way betrayed by his brother. That feeling was only emphasised when he was greeted by Andy who, though younger than Tony, knew where his duty lay and was proud to fight for his country. Over the next few days, David began to realise that his earlier antipathy towards the young man had been as a result of Martin’s death. They had been good friends, and the death had hit him hard. He did not want to get that close to a fellow pilot again, in case that friendship was destroyed in aerial combat too. Yet Andy was Martin's brother, and Martin would have been proud of him. David found himself beginning to treat Andy in the way he would have liked to treat Tony, not only as a brother in arms but truly as a brother to be proud of. As their relationship grew closer, David made a private vow to do all he could to protect Andy, and he buried his feelings of sadness at Tony's actions deep within himself.
One week into July, and the pace of life at Manston began to quicken. At 10.46, the Operations Room at Sector Station picked up an approaching airborne attack on RDF. Four minutes later the spe
ed and direction of the raid had been plotted, and was appearing on the Operations Room's plotting tables. Fighter Command had been informed and were making decisions as to which squadron to send up. It appeared to be a small raid, so control was passed to the Section Controllers, and at 10.53 Blue Section of 74 Squadron was ordered to scramble.
The pilots of Blue Section reached their planes at a run as the Tannoy blared out the scramble alarm. Within moments the three planes were airborne, the directions from Section Control ringing stridently in their ears. Andy was nervous, his palms sweaty and his mouth dry as his Spitfire climbed steeply towards his first taste of action against the enemy. 'Remember the Hun in the sun'. The memory of David's words echoed hollowly in his head and he gazed wildly around for some sign of the enemy, but saw nothing.
Flight Lieutenant Pellow led his section up into a layer of low cloud, and as they broke through on the other side his loud "Tally Ho!" signaled to Control that he had seen the enemy some two thousand feet above his Spitfires, and was now taking over control. He led his section in a fast climb towards the lone He 111 bomber and opened fire from below the plane.
"Blue Leader to Blue Three. Blue Leader to Blue Three. Hold back and keep your eyes peeled for any more of the enemy."
"Roger, Blue Leader." Andy began to weave back and forth, scrutinising the sky for any signs of the enemy.
"Blue Leader to Blue Two. Follow me."
"Roger."
Andy watched as the two Spitfires began a series of attacks astern of the bomber. The rear gunner returned fire and tracer filled the air. By the time the two Spitfires had used their limited ammunition, the rear gunner of the bomber had been silenced and the port engine was afire. The plane began a banking turn to take it back towards the Channel.
"Blue Leader to Blue Three. She's all yours."
"Roger."
Andy's hands clutched tightly at the controls as he swung in behind the stricken aircraft. His finger was poised above the button that would send a stream of deadly bullets into the enemy, and he took a deep breath. This was it. His first action, and he hoped he would not let his section down. Depressing the button, he watched the bullets rip into the Heinkel. It shuddered under the impact then rolled over into a dive. The last time he saw the plane it was disappearing into the clouds below, undercarriage down. With a whoop of joy he turned his plane, and followed Blue Leader back to base.
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