Joe left Sarah at the gates to Heronfield House. She watched him walk away towards his bus to Marlborough, where he would catch the train to Coventry. With a quick glance at her watch she realised she was late and rushed inside to serve tea to the patients. Sarah worked in a dream, her actions purely mechanical as her hands passed out plates and cups. Though she spoke cheerfully to the patients, her thoughts were not with them but many miles away. She was going to marry Joe! She had known for some time that Joe was the only man for her and she had thought he felt the same. This confirmed it. The war seemed so far away, almost insignificant as her brain raced with ideas for the wedding and plans for the future. Being Joe’s fiancée gave her a different perspective on the conflict. No longer was it a war that blocked out all normality in life, but something which infringed on life for a time. It would eventually go away, to leave her and Joe to enjoy life as any young married couple should. The time seemed to fly by, and Sarah soon found herself back in her room sitting once again in front of the mirror, gazing at her reflection and contemplating the rosy future which lay ahead of her.
The door opened and Jane came in. "Has Joe gone already?" she asked in surprise.
Sarah nodded dreamily. "Mmmm. He had to get the last train back to Coventry."
"It was hardly worth him coming so far for such a short visit."
Sarah smiled happily. "Oh yes it was!"
She held out her left hand. Jane gasped.
"Sarah! Is that an engagement ring? Of course it is! Oh, how wonderful!" She hugged her friend. "I'm so happy for you. This is certainly one Christmas you won't forget in a hurry!"
Sarah laughed. "I'll never forget it! Now, come on and let's get ready. We have a party to go to!"
44
The trip into Marlborough and the early part of the dance passed in a whirl for Sarah. Her friends and colleagues at the hospital were full of congratulations and she had danced with almost every young man at the party. Sarah had never been happier.
Tony came late to the dance. He had wondered if it would not be better to stay away. He did not want to watch Sarah with Joe for the whole evening, but in the end he decided he would be even more depressed if he could not see her at all. So he took David’s red sports car and drove to Marlborough. It seemed strange to be in the car without his brother, but Louise had said that she was sure David would have wanted him to have it. Reluctantly, he had accepted the gift, wishing David were there and there was no gift to give. He felt conspicuous and alone as he walked into the hall. It was a whirl of swirling colours. Couples danced energetically to the band playing the latest dance tunes. Some people stood at the refreshments table, while others admired the huge Christmas tree. He stood quietly by the door watching the festivities, and it was some time before he noticed Sarah sitting alone at a table. His eyes widened with surprise to see her unaccompanied, but he soon had his feelings under control and made his way across to join her. Sarah’s thoughts were miles away, reliving the time she had spent with Joe that afternoon. She jumped when she felt a hand upon her shoulder.
"Merry Christmas, Sarah."
As she turned in her chair and looked up at him, Tony had never seen her looking so beautiful.
“Hello, Tony. Merry Christmas."
"Are you alone? I thought I saw you with a young man this afternoon. I assumed it was this Joe you've told me so much about."
Sarah smiled radiantly at him. "Yes, it was. But he's already gone back to Coventry."
Tony smiled as he envisaged the evening stretching before them. If he could only spend time with her, maybe she would see how much he cared and choose him instead of Joe.
"Would you like to dance?"
Sarah nodded, and Tony’s heart was thumping as he led her onto the floor. It felt so good to hold her in his arms. They seemed to move together as one, as though they were made for each other. The fresh, clean scent of her hair intoxicated him, and he wished the night could last forever.
"Did Joe bring a Christmas present from your mother?"
Sarah shook her head. "No he only decided yesterday that he’d come down, so Mum had already posted my present. But Joe did bring me something."
"Oh?"
Sarah stopped dancing and held out her left hand excitedly.
Tony saw the ring and knew he had lost her. He felt the blood rush from his face, and his breath catch in his throat. He forced himself to smile. Hiding his dismay as best he could, he took her hand in his.
"Congratulations. I can see you couldn’t be happier." He swallowed hard, then continued. "I wish you and Joe every happiness. You deserve it."
"Thank you, Tony." Sarah tipped her head to one side. "Are you all right? You seem a little unhappy."
A little unhappy! Tony almost laughed at the understatement, but there was no way he could explain his feeling to her. He shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose it's because this is the first Christmas I'll spend without David,” he half lied.
"I'm sorry, Tony. I'm so engrossed in my own happiness that I'd forgotten how you must be feeling."
"There's no need to apologise. Now, let me congratulate you properly."
As the dancers whirled about them Tony leant down. He kissed Sarah on the lips for the first and, he assumed, the last time in his life. It was a bittersweet experience, a gentle kiss, soft and lingering. A kiss to lock away in his memory and cherish forever.
JANUARY - APRIL 1941
45
The war was not waged solely in the skies above Britain. Air units had been deployed to mainland Greece during the latter half of 1940, along with ground troops to Crete and some of the Aegean Islands. On the night of 11th November, as Sarah was preparing to go on leave to a still recognisable Coventry, a Royal Naval Task Force from the aircraft carrier Illustrious sank three battleships at their moorings with a surprise attack on the Italian base at Taranto. On 9th December General Wavell launched a counter-offensive against the Italian army in North Africa which was so successful that in three days they had captured thirty-eight thousand Italians, with the loss of only six hundred and twenty-four British and Indians killed and wounded. The Army of the Nile continued to advance. Tobruk fell to them on 21st January 1941, yielding another twenty five thousand prisoners and providing an essential supply port for the army. The dawn of 1941 brought with it an optimism for the British which had been lacking during the long, dark months of 1940. If the Italians could be pushed back so swiftly in North Africa, maybe the Germans could also be held and repulsed in Europe. No one had yet heard the names of Rommel and the Afrikakorps.
46
It was at the end of a cold February that Tony Kemshall reported to S7533 Altrincham for parachute training. He knew that, for him, this would be the most difficult part of his training so far. Each time he thought of going up in a plane his mind was filled with images of David, with memories of his love of flying and of how flying had led to his death. Now he was to get into a plane and face the hazardous skies which killed his brother. Tony was not afraid of jumping from the plane. He was sure his training would enable him to cope with that. It was the thought of flying itself that made his throat go dry and his hands break out in a clammy sweat. He knew he would have to overcome this irrational fear if he was ever to qualify to become an agent in France. Tony took a deep breath on his first morning at Altrincham and joined his comrades on the airfield.
"I know you’re here to learn how to jump out of a plane," Sergeant Keegan began, "but I thought we'd spend this morning looking at some of the aircraft from which you won’t be jumping." He smiled at their puzzled faces, and led the group of ten men and three women across the airfield in the direction of two light aircraft.
"Our first agents into France will jump blind so to speak. That means that there will be no Reception Committee for them, because we don’t have good enough contact with the Resistance. It will be their job to make this contact, so that later agents can be met as soon as they hit the ground and taken straight to a safe hous
e. Much better than wandering about in the dark, not quite knowing where you are."
Sergeant Keegan stopped beside a small, sturdy, high wing monoplane. "This is a Lysander." He placed a hand firmly on the fuselage. "We’ve been experimenting with it, to see if it’s possible to land agents rather than making them jump. Our tests have proved it to be very good, so once the Reception Committees are set up you could actually find yourself landing on French soil in one of these."
Tony looked the plane over doubtfully. "It seems rather small."
"That's its major asset. As you can see it has a small front cockpit for the pilot. There's no room for a navigator, so that job falls to the pilot as well. This ladder here,” he placed his hand on the rung of a small ladder fixed to the fuselage, "leads up to the second cockpit. It holds two passengers side by side facing aft. At a pinch it will hold three or, in a crisis, four."
"Won't that limit its range?"
Keegan nodded at the young man who had spoken. "That's right, but if your cover has been blown and the Gestapo are hot on your tail, you'll take off immediately and leave the worrying about where you're going to land till later."
"What's its range?" asked Tony.
""With an extra tank fitted it can cover seven hundred miles. That means that if you take off from Tangmere, we could just about get you to Lyons."
"What about landing?" asked one of the women.
"The Lysander can land and take off in three or four hundred yards of flat grass or clover. As agents will be going in at night, the field will need lights. That's why the Reception Committee is so important, and why the first agents will have to jump."
Tony compared the plane to the Spitfire David had flown. It was much slower, not as sleek in its lines, but then it was made to perform a different task. He supposed the difference was something like that between a racehorse and the horse which pulled the milk cart. With the picture of a Spitfire in his mind, a sudden thought struck Tony. "What about armaments?"
"It's unarmed, but the pilot carries a pistol."
"She can't outrun a Messerschmitt?"
Keegan shook his head. No one spoke as they absorbed the fact that if they were spotted by the enemy, they were very unlikely to survive.
"Right, come on." Keegan broke their reverie. "Let's get this tour over with, then we can get down to some real training."
For two days the agents-to-be practiced jumping through a hole in the fuselage of a crashed plane until it was second nature to them. They would not be allowed to make a jump from the air until they could exit the plane without thinking - sit down, put your legs into the hole, watch for the red light to turn green, watch the dispatcher’s arm sweep down as he shouts 'go', jump forward and spring to attention. Sergeant Keegan drummed the routine into them. Leap to attention immediately or you will be entangled in the cords of the parachute as it is opened, land with knees bent, and roll. Slowly but surely the trainees acquired the skills necessary to drop into enemy territory. Sergeant Keegan was finally satisfied with the results.
"After lunch tomorrow,” he said with a broad grin "you'll make your first jump. Just to put you a little more at ease though, I'll take you over to Ringway in the morning."
Ringway held a large hangar in its centre and Keegan led the trainees towards it.
"When you jump,” he said as he led them through the door, “you place your life in the hands of the person who packed your parachute." With a sweep of his arm, he indicated the huge interior of the hangar. There was row upon row of long tables, where women worked with intense concentration folding the yards of silk upon which men’s lives would depend. Tony watched, fascinated, as the huge sheets of diaphanous white material were folded along with the lengths of cord, and packed into the small harness he would wear. It was an intricate job, and an important one, and Tony wondered at the weight of responsibility placed on the shoulders of the young packers. After watching for a time his eyes were drawn to words painted a yard high along both sides of the long walls
REMEMBER A MAN’S LIFE DEPENDS ON EVERY PARACHUTE YOU PACK
He smiled grimly. With a constant reminder like that, the women would make very few mistakes. Sergeant Keegan was right, watching a parachute being packed did instil confidence in you. Tony knew he would have no worries about jumping from a plane and depending on a parachute. His only fear was that he might not have the courage to go up in the plane in the first place.
A weak winter sun was shining as Tony made his way towards the Halifax waiting at the end of the runway. Its engines were already roaring. Tony licked his lips nervously as he approached the huge bulk of the plane. The other trainees were ahead of him, and he watched as they climbed aboard; he stood for a moment thinking about how the enemy had shot down David’s Spitfire and wondering if they would attack this plane too. Sergeant Keegan leaned out of the plane.
"Come on, Kemshall. We're all waiting."
Tony took a deep breath and stepped closer. 'I'm just as likely to be killed on the ground as in the air' he mused. 'I'm just being silly.' Stiffening his spine, he climbed aboard and seated himself as the Halifax began to taxi down the runway. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as the wheels lifted from the ground and they were airborne at last. It was a strange, though not unpleasant, sensation and Tony found himself beginning to relax. After all, if David had died in a car crash he would not be afraid to get into a car again, so there was no cause at all for his fear of flying. The plane climbed steadily then levelled off as it reached cruising altitude. Sergeant Keegan, dispatcher for the afternoon, rose to his feet.
"Right then, time to go." He smiled reassuringly at the nervous faces ranged before him. "There’s nothing to worry about as long as you follow the routine we practiced when you jumped from the back of the moving truck. Just watch the light and don't worry. I promise you, you'll enjoy it."
All eyes were on the red light that burned above the door as the Halifax banked to the right and headed back towards the airfield. At a nod from Keegan, the trainees stood and attached their ripcords to the static line before shuffling over to the open door. The red light turned to green, and Keegan swept his arm down.
"Go!"
The first trainee jumped.
"Go! Go! Go!"
One more and it would be Tony’s turn.
"Go!"
Tony found himself sitting in the open doorway, the wind whipping at him and trying to drag him out. Keegan swept his arm down.
"Go!"
Tony jumped, arms by his sides, legs straight. With a jerk the static line pulled his cord. He heard the 'whoosh' as his parachute pulled out above him. Then, with a sharp tug, the canopy was open and he found himself hanging in space. At last, Tony was able to look around him. It was breathtaking. Below him were the pale chutes of those who had jumped before him. Below them, way way below, were the fields and hedgerows of England, spread out like a patchwork quilt at his feet. Tony had the most glorious sensation of freedom, hanging between earth and sky with no sound but the wind in the flimsy silk above his head. Pulling on the lines, first one side and then the other, he experimented with manoeuvring in the air and found it surprisingly easy. Tony was swiftly approaching the airfield at Altrincham; with intense concentration he pulled the lines to steer himself towards his chosen landing site. As the earth drew closer his speed seemed to increase, though he knew this was only an illusion. Then he was almost down.
'Feet together' he thought as he crossed his arms on his chest and braced his lower legs together. Then he was down and rolling as Keegan had shown him, almost as though he had been doing it all his life. Seconds later he was on his feet, pulling the slowly deflating canopy towards himself. He turned a little to his left, a broad grin on his face as he watched the Senior Training Officer approaching.
"That was great!" he laughed. Perhaps being a spy would not be so bad after all.
47
Sarah returned to Coventry in March, four months after the devastating raid. As she made her way fro
m the station towards her home the sight of the bomb sites depressed her. There was so much destruction that could not be made good until the war was ended, whenever that might be. From Alice’s letters, Sarah knew a massive effort had been made to get the city’s war industries running once again, but there were no resources available for rebuilding homes destroyed during the raid. As she approached her own front door, Sarah felt once again a great sense of relief that her mother still had a roof over her head. She opened the door to be greeted by the smell of cooking, and called out happily.
"Mum! I'm home!"
Alice came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Hello love! It's good to see you again." She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Now, let me have a look at the ring that Joe gave you. You won't believe how much I've been longing to see it."
Sarah held out her left hand, smiling.
"It's beautiful, dear! Now come into the kitchen and I'll make you a cup of tea.”
Sarah hung up her coat and left her small bag in the hall. She hadn't brought much with her as she was due to return to Heronfield the following day. She made her way to the kitchen, where she sank happily into a chair at the table. She sniffed.
"Dinner smells nice."
"Rabbit stew. Joe will be joining us." She looked up at the clock. "In fact he should be here any time now."
"Great! I can't wait to see him!" Sarah perused her mother thoughtfully, she was looking a little pale and tired, not her usual robust self. "Are you all right, Mum? It must have been difficult for you over the last few months."
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