by Iain Maloney
Round a corner and a soldier walking towards me. He reacted first, gun up. I stopped, panting, hands in the air. Suddenly a clatter. His gun had gone and there were now two figures. ‘BANG!’ ‘Fuck!’
‘Jack, run,’ said Terry. ‘He’s dead.’
I ran, made it back to the base moments before midnight. Joe was already back, as were Danny’s lot. ‘Everything all right, Devine?’ Thor said.
I was out of breath, couldn’t speak. Slowly feeling came back into my legs and my lungs opened up. ‘Well, Devine,’ said White. ‘Running from a spooky monster? Afraid of the dark?’
‘No, sir,’ I panted, and took the flag out of my jacket.
Chalky’s lot arrived at zero thirty-four, Terry and Doug with them. ‘We found the base,’ Chalky said, ‘and then you two turned up. We didn’t know what to do so we waited. You nearly landed on me running out of there.’
I looked around. ‘Where’s Clive?’ Terry looked at me, eyebrows raised, shook his head.
‘With the MO,’ said Sandy. ‘Cracked his head open.’
I looked for Joe. Couldn’t see him.
‘How?’
‘No idea. Must’ve fallen. He was the last man. We heard a noise, turned back, he was on the ground, blood pouring out his skull. We bandaged him up best we could, took him back here.’
The three of us, we said nothing.
New kites had arrived, flying back on. Now we were into the fun stuff. We had time to make up so we went up every day, sometimes twice a day. Terry had The Face as an instructor but maintained he wasn’t as bad in the air as he was on the ground. ‘He’s in front, you see? So he can’t see me and I can give him two fingers all day long. And when he starts going off on one I can just drop the tube and suddenly I can’t hear anything. I tell you, going to and from the kite, it’s complain about this, complain about that. When he’s off on one I’d love to just pop him one in the mouth, shut him up for five minutes. If I ever got him in a dark alley, boy I could have some fun.’ Joe walked into the mess. Terry walked out.
‘How’s Graham as a teacher?’ I asked, wondering how this was going to end.
‘He’s fine,’ said Joe. ‘A big softy really. Getting on a bit. He flew in the first war. You know they used tae drop bombs with their hands? They just leant over the side and let them go. It’s a long way from that tae the Lancaster.’
‘I’d rather be in a Lancaster than in a Camel with a box of bombs on my knees.’
‘He’s a great one for the stories,’ said Joe. ‘He was telling me about this instructor, real public school boy, the accent on him most folks couldnae understand. He had these three boys up in an Oxford, learning how tae use the bomb sight. They swore they’d heard him say “jump chaps” and did. All three parachuted down and made their way back tae base. Turned out he’d said “pump flaps”. Washed the three of them out.’
My log book filled up. Mnemonics: HTMPFFGG – Hydraulics, Trim, Mixture, Pitch, Fuel, Flaps, Gills and Gyro. BUMPF. Duties: Familiarity with cockpit layout, preparation for flight, air experience, effect of controls, taxiing, straight and level flying, climbing, descending, stalling, medium turns, gliding and climbing turns, take off into wind, approach and landing, spinning from a straight glide, low flying, restarting the engine in flight, action in the event of a fire, forced landing, side slipping, steep turns, taking off. Day by day the hours stacked up, one hour twenty minutes, two hours fifteen minutes, three hours forty five. We got through our seven hours’ assessments. Clive was out of the infirmary but not cleared for flying yet. I went to visit him.
‘Any idea what happened?’ I said.
‘None. I was walking along, trying not to lose sight of Sandy’s back, when bam, like an explosion in my head and I woke up on the ground.
After the assessments the training continued. I went up three times on the thirteenth and once more on the fifteenth. It was all consolidation, me in control throughout the flight. I could take in the dials with only a quick glance, and could scan the skies, even while upside down, without taking her off level. As we taxied to the end of the runway after the last landing, Thor said, ‘bring her around for another go.’
I’d happily stay up all day long. I got her in position and was just about to open her up when Thor climbed out. ‘Sir?’ I said, knowing what was about to happen. ‘On you go,’ he said. ‘You’re ready. Just take her round the circuit. Don’t do anything fancy. And don’t bend her.’
Solo. Going solo. Oh shit. Shit. There was no going back, no getting out of it. If you screwed up your solo that was it. LMF. Stop thinking, stop thinking. You can do this. She began rolling. I took a deep breath, tried to clear my mind. The buzzing was back. The adrenaline. Then we were off the ground and everything changed. I was up, alone in the sky.
The sound of my heart, the blood pumping around my body. Quiet enough, solitary enough that for once I could hear myself. That beating, it’s me. That rushing, it’s me. Those creaks and groans and sighs, the click in the knee, the growl in the belly, alone in the darkening blue high above the Wiltshire fields.
‘Beautiful,’ said Thor. ‘Couldn’t have done better myself. Take the rest of the day off. Here’s a pass. Go and get pissed.’
Thor was a great teacher. I did exactly what he said.
Doug also went solo and got a pass. We hitched into Swindon, had an egg and chips dinner, into the Crown and got stuck into the beer. It was just the two of us. For the first time we felt like our uniform wasn’t some costume. We’d flown solo. Sure it was only for twenty minutes in a Tiger Moth over Wiltshire and not in battle, but it was enough to give us a swagger which the beer only enhanced. We had a game of darts, both of us useless, and then returned to our perch at the bar. ‘Thor told me,’ said Doug. ‘He had a lad about three months ago. He was doing fine so he sent him up for his solo, only he got scared. Couldn’t land. He flew around for about thirty minutes, round and round, but wouldn’t come down. Eventually he flew up to ten thousand and jumped out, parachuted down. Would rather jump than land.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t tell me that until after I’d gone solo. Assuming we pass the twelve hour assessment, we’re nearly done here.’
‘We’re nearly done here whether we pass or not,’ said Doug.
‘Leading Aircraftman Jack Devine. I like the sound of that.’
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself. If you’re not expectant, you can’t be disappointed.’
‘Indulge me,’ I said. ‘If we pass we’re likely to be shipped off overseas for the rest of our training. Where do you think we’ll be sent?’
For the last couple of years it’d been too difficult to properly train new pilots in Britain. There was a shortage of airfields, aircraft and trainers. So the government set up the Empire Air Training Scheme and sent new pilots to places like Canada and Rhodesia to do their training, free from the Luftwaffe. ‘I heard some people get sent to America. That would be something,’ I said. ‘Imagine being in America. The music. The movies.’
‘I’m not sure if I’d like America. It seems so bright and busy. Noisy. Rhodesia might be nice.’
‘I don’t know anything about Rhodesia. It’s in Africa, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. That’s about all I know too. That’s one reason I’d like to go. When else would we ever get the chance to see Africa?’
‘When would we get the chance to see America?’
‘But Africa seems so exotic.’
‘Don’t dismiss home. I was like you once. Wanted travel, adventure. Desperate to see the world. Then I thought I’d never see home again.’
It was another man, sitting on the stool next to me.
‘Sorry?’ I said, turning to face him.
‘Just saying,’ he said. ‘Don’t be so desperate to get away from home. Alf,’ he said, offering us his hand. We took it. He’d been hunched over his pint so we hadn’t properly taken in his uniform.
‘You’re a pilot?’ I said.
‘Not any more. They’ve got me behind a
desk now. On account of this.’ He nodded at an empty sleeve.
‘You were shot down?’ I said.
‘That I was,’ Alf said. Doug got a round in, and one for Alf. ‘I was flying Lancasters. Got shot down. Ack ack. Don’t remember much. Lost my arm in the initial blast but me mate Harry got me out. Threw me out the door and pulled my chord. Used my chute to dress my arm when we got down. How I didn’t die I’ll never know.’ He raised his glass to Harry. ‘He got us to the coast, got a fisherman to take us out, did a swap over to a British trawler at sea. Got home. I was out of it most of the time. Lost blood. Delirious. The others didn’t make it.’ He toasted the air again. ‘Never flew again.’
I bought him a pint this time. ‘Cheers lad. So, as I said. Don’t be so desperate to get away, because one day you might find yourself desperate to get back.’
We talked for a couple of hours, always Doug and I buying. That’s what you did. He told us all about real flying, about battle. He’d flown everything, bombers, fighters. ‘Always have a knife, lads. Big bloody knife. Keep it in your cockpit. You get shot down, you’re going to need that. Defend yourself. Get food. Make a shelter. Look.’ He slapped a huge hunting knife on the bar. ‘Never leave home without it.’
‘My brother says the same,’ said Doug.
‘He’s a pilot?’
‘Same as you. Lancasters.’
‘Good man. What’s his name?’
‘Edward Newton.’
‘Don’t know him.’ He raised his glass to Edward Newton.
We got back just after eleven, the buzz from going solo still with us. The next day we were rough, but Thor gave us a day of rest. We felt we’d earned it. Lying on the grass, sun burning off our hangovers, watching the kites flit around overhead. Joe ran over.
‘Hey lads, guess what?’
‘The war’s over?’
‘No, just done my solo.’
We jumped up, shook his hand. ‘Damn,’ I said. ‘Shame he didn’t send you up yesterday, we could all have gone out.’
‘No chance of getting a pass for tonight?’ he said. Shook heads.
‘You enjoy yourself though. Check out the Crown, not a bad wee pub.’
Doug and I had an early night. We were both back up the next day, more solos. We wanted to be rested and ready, prove it wasn’t a fluke. Nevertheless, we were woken just before midnight by Clive, Sandy and Bill coming in drunk. They’d been celebrating, too. ‘Fuck sake, boys,’ said Terry from under his blankets. He hadn’t gone solo yet. Joe’s bunk was still empty. With much giggling and swearing the lads got into their bunks and we all went back to sleep. When I woke, Joe wasn’t there.
Up solo, the skies to myself. Beautiful, deep green to the horizon, like a model, a toy, me a god zooming over it. I flew north east, over the war games zone. It’d taken us a whole day to walk across the land, and I flew over it in a few seconds. There was an emergency strip on the other side, in case we got into trouble. I felt a bump, rising slightly, falling, hardly registered on the altimeter. I looked, though I didn’t need to. The hot air off the road to Swindon. Practiced climbing turns, steep turns. All who had gone solo, we were getting cocky now. I wanted to try a flick turn, suddenly applying full rudder and elevation, flicking the kite through one hundred and eighty degrees from straight and level to straight and level. I was far enough north of the base that no-one would see me from the ground. I checked the sky for other kites. Nothing. Here goes. The first time I tried it my speed dropped too much and I lost altitude, a bit scary, but that’s how you learn. I played around with various throttle positions and after twenty minutes of practice had it more or less down pat.
It was Joe’s turn in the infirmary with a head injury. Doug and I went in, Terry came in after. ‘Walking back tae base last night, had a few, you know, but no a skinfull.’
His breath told the truth.
‘So I hear a truck coming on the road behind me and step ontae the grass tae let it pass. I turn tae look, you know, and it’s coming pretty slow, headlights full. Well, it gets tae me and I see an arm come out the window and something smacks intae my head. Next thing I know I’m here. MO says it was a bottle.’
‘Did you see who it was?’
‘No, but I know who it was.’
‘So you’re even now,’ said Terry, arms folded.
‘Even?’
‘You did him, he did you.’
Joe didn’t say anything. Terry waited, his face showing… what? Hope? ‘You think I’m going to let him get away with this?’
‘Fuck sake,’ sighed Terry. ‘Joe, just let it go.’
‘It’s not worth it,’ I said.
‘Look, Joe,’ said Terry, ‘listen to me. What’s next? Stabbing? Shooting? If Thor found out about any of this the pair of you would be gone before you could say “that was a fucking waste.”’
‘So you think I should just let him get away with this?’
Terry threw his hands in the air. ‘Fine, Joe, fine. You want to pursue this vendetta then you go ahead, but you’re not taking me down with you.’
He left. ‘You should think about what he said,’ said Doug. ‘It’s not bad advice.’
More flights. Terry went solo. Guard duty.
Waiting.
I put her into a dive and pulled out just to feel the rush. As I was climbing, I noticed another Tiger coming my way. I stopped arsing about in case it was an instructor. It wasn’t, it was Terry on a solo. He came alongside, gestured ‘follow me’. I checked the time: plenty. No other kites and far enough from the base. What the hell. He banked and I dropped into formation. We buzzed either side of the road to Swindon flying lower and lower. By the outskirts we were at ninety feet. Ahead I could see an old red brick building, about four floors high with a flat roof. Terry seemed to be heading straight for it. Flying over the town meant potentially thousands of people could see us and someone was bound to report back to base. I stayed in formation. We were coming in fast so hopefully no-one would be able to see the individual markings that could identify us.
People lying on the roof. Terry slowed and banked gently so we were circling. Women, I realised, were sunbathing on the roof. Sunbathing in their underwear. Our appearance caused them to scatter like frightened chickens, grabbing at clothing and diving for the door. We did three complete turns then broke off. Terry gave me the thumbs up. I tapped my wrist, he nodded. We split east west so we’d return separately.
Joe was out of hospital and we were on guard duty. After the debacle during the storm we stayed closer to the kites, but the wind was mild, though a light rain started just after midnight. Guard duty was the only time Joe and Terry were forced to spend time with each other. In pairs, checking the fences, the huts, signs of forced entry. I went with Joe, Doug with Terry. Keep them apart. ‘Nearly there,’ I said.
‘Aye, thank fuck there are no exams.’
‘There will be though, wherever we get sent for our training. Canada, Rhodesia or wherever. Back into the books.’
‘True.’
‘Listen, Joe,’ I said. ‘This thing with Clive.’
‘Aye, fine, Jack, aye. Don’t go on about it.’
‘It’s just, I mean, maybe our next posting will have a drum kit, we can start jamming again.’
‘I dinnae think that’s gonnae happen, Jack. No me and Terry in the same band. Dinnae worry, Jack. You’re a good player, there’ll be other bands. It’s like your first shag,’ he said. ‘It’s the first so it’s special, but it’s no gonnae be your best.’
‘Just, promise me you’ll knock this thing with Clive on the head.’
‘Fuck sake, Jack. Fine, I promise. Happy now?’
We finished our circuit, went back passed the kites. Joe stopped.
‘What’s up?’
‘Need a piss,’ he said. ‘You go on, I’ll see you back there.’
I shrugged, left him to it. When I got back Doug and Terry were waiting.
‘Where’s Captain Psycho?’ said Terry.
‘Havi
ng a piss.’
‘Let’s get in out the rain.’
‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Where? The hanger or the hut?’
‘Hut, it’s more sheltered.’
‘Right. I’ll tell Joe, meet you there.’
‘Right.’ Off they went. I retraced my steps, couldn’t see anyone.
‘Joe?’ I called out. ‘Joe?’
He appeared from underneath one of the kites.
‘What you doing?’
‘Pissing, I told you. You trying to get a look?’
‘No, we’re going to the hut. I came to tell you. You were pissing under the kite?’
‘On the tyres. Good luck, all the ground crew do it.’
I’d never heard this, but the ground crew were a superstitious lot. ‘Come on, the rain’s getting worse.’
‘Aye. I’m all done here.’
Only two more flights left before my assessment. I couldn’t believe it was almost over. To keep flying forever, that was the dream, never landing, never returning to solid ground, stay up there forever.
As I approached the base I was redirected to a different runway. Below me, the wreckage of a kite lay strewn across the runway. Oh shit. Not a crash. Who was it?
I landed, got out as fast as I could, ran over just as the pilot was being loaded into the ambulance.
‘Who is it?’ I said.
‘Clive,’ said Bill.
‘Clive?’ Oh no. ‘Is he… he was up solo?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened?’
‘No idea. His approach was all off, like. Juddering all over the place, up and down, you know? Drunk, looked like. Well, he smacked her into the ground from about twenty feet up, she bounced over, collapsed.’
‘Juddering about? Sounds like something mechanical,’ I said.
‘Yes.’
Clive? Why did it have to be Clive? One image I couldn’t get out of my head.
‘All done here.’
The grin on him.
Was it the same kite? No, no, no, Jack. Don’t go down that road. Joe’s a lot of things but he’s not a murderer. I looked around, Terry and Doug, saw them, went over. ‘Awful accident,’ said Doug.
