Into The Unknown

by Lorna Peel

  “It’s all right,” she replied.

  But it wasn’t. Thank goodness for last night because she didn’t know where she was going to be posted to and she didn’t know when she would see Charlie again.

  Chapter Six

  Outside the flats, Charlie sat in his MG shaking with excitement. That had been an unbelievable night. He had almost been too frightened to touch her, but when he did… oh, her breasts! He rolled his eyes. Large and firm. Her curvy body! He leaned forward and rested his head on the steering wheel. Then when she had explored, kissed, and caressed him. Oh, God. He hadn’t been rough either, very patient, actually, when he realised she was in pain. Well done, he congratulated himself. She was just the most incredible woman he had ever met. And she loved him.

  He went to a barber’s for a shave, then drove home and was surprised to find his father in the back garden, reinforcing the shelter by shovelling more earth onto the roof.

  “Decided you’d better come home once in a while?” Dr Butler joked and held out his hand. “How are you, son?”

  “I’m fine, Father.” He shook his hand. “Is no-one ill these days?”

  His father smiled. “Oh, yes, but your mother’s been nagging me about this and with things looking bad in France, something is bound to happen soon.”

  “Yes.” Charlie glanced at the shelter. “It seems all right to me.”

  “Anything to stop your mother’s nagging.”

  He laughed. “Where is she?”

  “Across the road, having a chat with Helen, so I can have a chat with you.” He threw the spade down. “Come inside.”

  “I have to be back in the morning,” Charlie told him as they sat down in the drawing room.

  “Tomorrow? Your leaves seem to get shorter and less often.”

  “Mmm,” Charlie replied, peering down at his hands. “Things are happening, you see. I was across in France myself.”

  “You’re all right, son?”

  “Fine, Father, honestly.” He raised his head and grimaced. “If they come here, I honestly don’t know how we’re going to stop them. They’ve got so many Messerschmitts and Stukas and we lost so many planes, men…”

  “Were any of your squadron killed or injured?”

  “No, but Billy – you know Billy Benson?” he asked and his father nodded. “His brother was shot down and killed. Billy’s devastated.”

  Dr Butler shook his head in sorrow. “Give Billy my condolences.”

  “I will.”

  “Heard from Kate lately?” Dr Butler inquired and Charlie stared at his father, hoping he wasn’t going red.

  “Oh. I, er, got a letter from her recently. I found out where she’s living and I called to see her yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “Oh.” Charlie flushed. “Oh, I, er—”

  “You stayed with her last night, didn’t you, Charlie?”

  Charlie cringed, not sure whether his father was angry or not. “Yes,” he replied feebly.

  “Even after what I told you at Christmas? I hope to God you were careful?”

  “I was. I always am.” He frowned. Always. How many women had there been? “That’s it, though, Father. After last night, she’ll be the only girl for me. I love her.”

  “And Kate?”

  “She loves me. Oh.” He sighed and rested his head against the back of the chair. “She’s so perfect,” he added, lowering his head. “I really love her, Father.”

  Dr Butler nodded. “Well, if she means so much to you, you just make sure you treat her properly. The only girl for you, eh? Just make sure you keep it that way. We all need a bit of stability these days.”

  “I know. I can’t help but be worried about her. She’s training to be a teleprinter operator at a Sector Station. If only I had put her off joining up.”

  “She seems to be quite a determined girl. According to Helen, she grew to hate working in Graham’s, so I think her joining up was more or less inevitable. You’ll both be in danger, Charlie,” he finished sadly.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you all right for..?” His father waggled his head knowingly from side to side.

  “Oh.” Charlie smiled. “Yes, plenty. Thank you, Father.”

  “Well, whatever you do, don’t tell your mother where you were last night,” his father warned as the front door opened and closed. “Ah.” Dr Butler held a finger to his lips as Mrs Butler came into the room.

  “Charlie,” she cried as he got up to hug her. “When did you get home, how long are you staying? You didn’t telephone?”

  He laughed. “A few minutes ago, until first thing tomorrow morning, and I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Yes, I’ve had breakfast,” he replied and, out of the corner of his eye, saw his father smirk. “How are you, and how’s that brother of mine?”

  “Oh, Clive’s fine. He’ll be home for the summer holidays in a few weeks. I’ve just been across the road and Helen was telling me about Kate. She’s just rung to say where she’s been posted.”

  Charlie’s heart leapt. Kate was being posted to a Sector Station less than fifteen miles from his base. He sighed with relief and grinned at his bewildered mother.

  “What on earth’s the matter?” she asked and her husband came forward and laid a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “Charlie’s in love, dear.”

  “With Kate Sheridan?” Mrs Butler’s mouth fell open. “But how old is she?”

  “Nineteen,” Charlie replied. “And I don’t care. Kate loves me, too. Are you happy for me?” he challenged.

  “Oh.” She sank into an armchair. “It’s a bit of a shock. I didn’t think you’d have time to fall in love. Well, I have spoken with her, and she does seem to be a genuinely nice girl. Even if she is Irish.”

  “Yes, Mother.” He grinned, bending down and kissing her cheek. “I’m glad you like her.” He heard the telephone ring and turned to his father. Dr Butler winked at him before going out to the hall to answer it.

  A couple of minutes later, Dr Butler returned. His face was grave. “I’m afraid I’ve been called away; to Dover of all places. I’m sorry, Charlie, but could you ring Harley Street for me, and ask Gloria to cancel all appointments for the next few days?”

  “Of course. Can I ask what’s happening?” he asked and his father shrugged.

  “They wouldn’t say. I’d better bring an overnight bag.”

  “I’ll pack it for you,” his wife said, getting up and leaving the room.

  “Charlie?” Dr Butler beckoned him over. “You don’t think? No.” He gave Charlie a dismissive smile.

  “What, Father?”

  “The British Expeditionary Force has been retreating. You don’t think the powers-that-be are going to try and get them out of France, do you?”

  Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “Evacuate them? But there are thousands, Father. I wouldn’t have a clue. That’s the Army’s department, and top-secret, I’d say.”

  “Mmm.” Dr Butler pursed his lips. “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t see more of you, son. Look after yourself, won’t you? Pop across the road and ask Helen to keep an eye on your mother for me?”

  “I will.” Charlie felt a sudden need to hug his father. “Good luck, Father. I’ll drive the car around to the front of the house for you.”

  “What’s happening, Charlie?” his mother asked as they stood at the front door ten minutes later, waving Dr Butler’s car out of the drive.

  “I don’t know, Mother,” he lied.

  Over three hundred and thirty-five thousand men were rescued from the beaches of Dunkirk in northern France as part of Operation Dynamo. RAF Fighter Command did everything it could to protect those on the beaches from the Luftwaffe, but it wasn’t possible to meet all the enemy attacks. The Luftwaffe was dealt heavy blows, but the evacuation reduced the RAF to its lowest strength for the whole of 1940.

  A few days later, Charlie received Kate’s first letter from her Sector Station.<
br />
  Dear Charlie,

  I’m only fourteen-and-a-half miles away. I’ve checked and double-checked. How are you since I last saw you? I don’t know about you, but I was accused of daydreaming three times later that day.

  Charlie laughed.

  I like my posting so far. I’m sharing a hut with a girl from Scotland – Jean. One from Cornwall – Wilma. And two from Wales – Eve and Claire. Talk about a mixture of accents. I’m at the teleprinter morning, noon and night. I don’t mean that in a horrible way, I love it. I can’t say what and why, but I think you have a fair idea. I managed to get home to Dunstan Street for a couple of days before my posting. All are well. Bob was away, of course, but Helen and Granny Barbara send their regards.

  Your father was just back from Dover. He was treating the poor soldiers who had been evacuated from Dunkirk. He seemed very down, I think he must have seen some awful injuries there. He was happy about us, though. In fact, they all were, isn’t it great?

  Brilliant, Charlie smiled. Especially where my mother is concerned.

  It’s a good thing I bought maps for everywhere. Claire got lost on her way home from the village the other day and a search party had to be sent out to look for her. The powers-that-be weren’t too happy. So, if Mr Churchill is right and that the Battle of Britain is about to begin, we must all be brave. I love you so much, Charlie. Please look after yourself. It might be hard, I know, but please?

  Write soon?

  All my love.

  Kate

  XXX

  Charlie put the letter down and felt a lump in his throat. Never mind him, what about her? Sector Stations would be prime targets for the Luftwaffe.

  Things were getting worse all the time. In the few days since Kate’s letter, Italy had entered the war on Hitler’s side and Paris, the most romantic city in the world, had fallen on the 14th June 1940.

  The RAF was desperately preparing itself for the inevitable air battle. To invade Britain, the Germans needed air superiority. Aircraft production surged ahead. Repaired and new aircraft were delivered to Charlie’s base, along with spare parts. New pilots were posted there and one of them was just eighteen, the eldest was twenty-three.

  Charlie’s squadron was rarely out of the air, practising formation and engaging in mock dog-fights. In the air, as well as on the ground, Charlie found that B Flight looked up to him, not just as their leader, but also because he was so much older than them. He missed being one of the boys, despite drinking huge amounts of beer with them and attaching new lyrics to all the popular songs of the day. Thankfully, Billy and Jack treated him the same as always, and while others – Ralph Clarke especially – looked on, no doubt thinking Charlie was inviting disrespect, it didn’t.

  As June gave way to July, everyone was restless. When was something going to happen? August arrived along with new tactics by the Luftwaffe, they now wanted fighter versus fighter combat in order to gain dominance.

  Charlie shook with anticipation each day waiting for the phone in the dispersal hut to ring. It became quite an achievement to be able to light a cigarette with fingers shaking so much they could barely hold a mug of tea. Operations finally telephoned and B Flight scrambled. In the air, they were ordered to fly to Dover and out over the English Channel. Just out from the coast, Charlie spotted enemy aircraft and his heart thumped with both excitement and fear.

  “Right,” he called. “Softly, softly. Wait until I tell you.”

  He watched the Messerschmitt 109s, feeling like a honey pot with a swarm of outsized wasps approaching. Closer and closer they came until…

  “Now,” he yelled. “Break. Attack the bastards.”

  Billy, Jack and the other pilots of B Flight peeled away on either side of him and he followed a 109 firing three-second bursts at it. He gasped in delight when he saw white smoke appear from the plane’s engines.

  “Gotcha.”

  He watched, the seconds seeming like minutes, as the 109 dived into the channel. He quickly looked around him where the hell were the rest? In the distance, he saw Billy, but there was no sign of Jack.

  “Behind,” a voice yelled in his ears.

  There was a 109 right on his tail. He climbed then dived, taking the 109 by surprise. In the mirror, he could see smoke. Was it him? He twisted and turned then swore.

  “Billy?” he called. “I’ve been hit, I’m going back.”

  “Righto.”

  “Seen Jack?”

  “No,” Billy replied.

  Charlie looked around him again for his friend. No, not Jack. He nursed his Hurricane home. Billy followed a little later. Jack never returned.

  Returning unharmed from a sortie the following day, Charlie spoke to Billy, then asked to see their Commanding Officer. Jones was a plain-speaking Yorkshire man.

  “Well, Charlie, what can I do for you?”

  Charlie got straight to the point. “It’s about Pilot Officer Jack Buxton, sir. He’s missing.”

  “Yes.” Jones sighed and put down his pen. “We lost three good men yesterday.”

  “Jack was a good friend to me, sir. He, Billy Benson and I joined the RAF together. I was wondering if he doesn’t make contact, may I inform his wife?”

  Jones leant heavily on an elbow. “We can’t spare you, Charlie, I’m sorry.”

  “The next overcast day, sir?”

  “Very well, providing it’s within the week. She must be informed. Where does she live?”

  “She’s a WAAF, sir.”

  “Do you know her well?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir, but I still feel that I should tell her.”

  Jones nodded. “Speak to Jim about it.”

  The following afternoon, after speaking to the Adjutant – the officer who acted as administrative assistant to the CO – Charlie sped out of the gates for the first time in over a month. Negotiating roadblocks in heavy drizzle, he made his way to Mrs Buxton’s base and was shown into the CO’s office. The CO was seated behind a large desk and sat back in his chair as Charlie saluted him.

  “I would like to speak to Angela Buxton please, sir.”

  “Angela Buxton? Are you her husband?”

  “No, sir, my name is Flight Lieutenant Charles Butler. I’m here to inform her of her husband’s death.” Charlie held up the official letter.

  “Oh, God.” The CO groaned, reached for the telephone, and lifted the receiver. “Send Buxton here, will you, please?”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The CO put the receiver down, waved his hand dismissively and left the office.

  Charlie paced the floor. This was going to be dreadful; she was only twenty-two. He heard footsteps and braced himself as the door opened and she came in. She frowned when she saw him.

  “You’re Charlie Butler?”

  “Yes, I am, Mrs Buxton,” he replied, wondering how she knew who he was. As far as he knew, she had never seen him before, and he had only seen a very bad wedding photograph of her. He hadn’t been able to get leave so Billy had been Jack’s best man.

  “I know Kate. Knew her, I mean.” She smiled. “We were in the same WAAF flat in London. How is she?”

  “Fine.” He swallowed. This was even worse than he had imagined. “I haven’t heard from her in a while, but it’s understandable, I suppose.” He stopped. He was rambling.

  “Yes.” She smiled again.

  Tell her, a voice yelled in his head. “Would you please sit down, Mrs Buxton? I’m afraid I have some very bad news.”

  “Jack,” she said flatly.

  “Yes. Please sit down.”

  “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  Charlie sighed and pulled up a chair for himself as she sat down. “I was Jack’s Flight Commander. We were sent on a sortie to intercept some Messerschmitt 109s out in the English Channel. I gave the order to attack and I managed to shoot one down. Billy Benson got another but,” he frowned, “we don’t know what happened to Jack.”

  Her face lit up. “So he might sti
ll be alive?”

  “Mrs Buxton, as you know he may have bailed out, but we have heard nothing. I’m so sorry.”

  She sat back in the chair and looked down at her hands. “We were married for four years. I married him straight from school, I was eighteen.” She smiled at the memory. “He was twenty-four. I’m so glad I did now, that I took my happiness when I could. I told Kate to do the same. Well, not told, advised. She did and she was glad. She told me a lot about you. You’re a good man, Charlie. Thank you for telling me about… oh, Jack.” She burst into tears. “Marry Kate, Charlie,” she sobbed. “Be happy while you both can.”

  But what if I’m killed, he wondered. To be killed now would be bad enough for her, but if we were married and had children? No. He wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t marry Kate until this bloody awful war was over.

  Chapter Seven

  Kate stood at the window of her hut and, for the first time in her life, was glad it was raining. Rain meant clouds and clouds meant no visibility for the Luftwaffe and a rest for the RAF. Everyone at her Sector Station was exhausted. They had been on alert from dawn until dusk and there had barely been time between sorties for the pilots to eat or drink.

  At the teleprinters, she was carrying out vital work, too. Analyses of the previous day’s fighting had to be placed in order and sent to HQ for Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding, the head of Fighter Command, to read. Requests for replacement aircraft, ammunition, tools and other equipment also had to be sent out. Intelligence reports came in dealing with changes of tactics, the results of Prisoner of War interrogations, and the movement of enemy units.

  She gazed up at the clouds. They were all safe for the time being. The pilots weren’t the only ones in danger now; so were the ground crews and personnel, as the Luftwaffe had started to target airfields and Sector Stations. She had her tin hat beside her at the teleprinter every day, waiting for the inevitable.

  Underground, she could hear the thud of bombs and, emerging from the shelter, she saw damaged buildings and the airfield pitted with craters. Two ground crew had been killed so far.