Into The Unknown

by Lorna Peel

“You don’t think you might be overdoing things?”

  “No, I don’t,” he retorted. “Has someone been talking to you about me?”

  The MO just smiled again. “When was the last time you saw your girlfriend? She’s a stunner by all accounts.”

  Charlie couldn’t help but smile back. “She is, and…” He had to think. No. It couldn’t be. “It’s a year last July.”

  “That’s a hell of a long time. Do you miss her?”

  “Yes. Look, what’s all this about? I’ve finally got a letter from her and I would like to read it.”

  “I have to admit that I have been watching you over the last week or so, Charlie, and I think it’s time you had a good rest. So I’m going to strenuously recommend that you have at least a month off. I want you away from here, away from planes, the RAF, and have some complete rest.”

  “What? Are you going to tuck me up in bed and make sure I stay there? Look, really—”

  “No, Charlie.” The MO was adamant. “Really. We’re not capable of just going on and on.”

  Charlie peered down at his hands. “No, I suppose not.”

  “And you can’t just keep working and working, hoping to forget.”

  Charlie’s head jerked up. “I’m not hoping to bloody forget. They were my parents and my friends. You have no idea what it was like, so don’t pretend you do.”

  “All right.” The MO held up his hands. “I’m just trying to help. I can’t help but wonder, though, if the reason you haven’t attempted to see your girlfriend for so long is that she reminds you of what happened? She came here to tell you, didn’t she?”

  Charlie looked away. He hadn’t thought of that. Poor Kate. It wasn’t her fault. He turned back to the MO. “I didn’t think you were a psychiatrist. So I’m a loony case, am I?”

  “Not at all, but you do see why you need to have a rest?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  “Right. You’ll hear in the next day or two.”

  “Thanks,” he said, not knowing whether he meant to be sarcastic or not.

  In his room, he picked up Kate’s photograph from the top of the chest of drawers. A year last July. Where had the bloody time gone to?

  “Any post for me?” Billy put his head around the door.

  “No,” Charlie replied and put the photograph back.

  “You got a letter from Kate?”

  “Yes.” He sat down on the bed and opened it as Billy came in, sat on the other side of the bed, and lit a cigarette.

  Dear Charlie,

  Why no letter for so long? I miss hearing from you. What’s the matter?

  Charlie stared at the question mark. He was so damn tired and fed up, that’s what the matter was. Maybe the rest was a good idea.

  If I’ve done anything wrong, Charlie, please tell me. I love you and I worry about you. I’ve only had a couple of letters from you over the last few months. My parents send you their best wishes. Toby and Clive seem to be doing well and are going to send us photographs of them in their uniforms. Write to them, Charlie, they haven’t heard from you in ages. Don’t work too hard, will you? Please write. I love you and I miss you.

  All my love,

  Kate

  XXX

  Charlie put the letter down. He had been neglecting her and the boys. He’d write to her tomorrow.

  “How is she?” Billy asked.

  “Fine. Says I haven’t been writing enough.”

  “She’s right, isn’t she?” Billy leant over and tipped ash into the ashtray on the chest of drawers. “How many letters have you written lately?”

  Charlie glared at him even though he knew he was right. “Have you been watching me? The bloody MO thinks I’m overdoing it and he thinks I need a rest.”

  “You are and you do,” Billy told him bluntly.

  “Thanks a bunch.”

  “Are you getting leave?”

  “Yes, in the next day or two.”

  “Good. Lucky bastard.” Billy smiled.

  Following a chat with the Adjutant, Charlie made his way to the dispersal hut the next morning, knowing he would be getting a month’s leave the day after next. Until then, there were more sweeps over Northern France.

  Right, he thought, as his flight passed over the French coast, let’s make it kill number six. His heart leapt when he spotted a dozen to eighteen Messerschmitt 109s ahead.

  “Righty-ho,” he called to the others. “Come on, then, they’re there for the taking.”

  They split and he set off after one. This might be his last chance before his leave. He was about 75 yards behind when he fired and watched as pieces of tail and wing flew off. It climbed and Charlie followed and fired again, giving a victorious roar as the 109 began to exhale white smoke before falling out of the sky.

  He turned to look for the others and spotted Billy chasing a 109 who was trying desperately to get away. You cowardly Nazi!

  “Charlie?” He jumped hearing Billy yelling in his ears. “Get out of the bloody way.”

  He blinked. How the hell could he have been daydreaming at a time like this? He pushed his Hurricane into a steep dive, but it was too late. He felt the plane shake as it was hit and he looked in the mirror. Christ. The plane was gushing smoke like nobody’s business.

  Bale out, an inner voice screamed at him, but he was out over the English Channel. Could he make it back to England? He looked desperately around for land but couldn’t see any.

  He urged the Hurricane on, all sorts of things rushing through his mind. His parents, Bob and Helen, Barbara, Dunstan Street and the bombs, Clive and Toby, Rose Cottage – he and Kate had been happy there – Kate. His pictured her face. He had to get back to land; he couldn’t leave her not even a widow.

  “Come on, for fuck’s sake,” he roared as the engine began to splutter. “Come on, you bastard plane. Come on.”

  He screwed up his eyes. Was that land in the distance? The engine spluttered again and he began to climb. If it was land and the fuel ran out, he would be able to glide to land.

  “Thank you, God,” he whispered as he crossed the coast. “Right, land this thing, Butler.”

  He spotted a large field not too far ahead. That would do. As he began his descent, the fuel finally gave out and as he glided down, he spotted a farmhouse a couple of fields away. It didn’t look like a French house, thank Christ. While peering at the house, he didn’t see the ground rise up to meet him far faster than he had anticipated. The undercarriage wasn’t down. This would be one hell of a belly-flop.

  The Hurricane hit the ground and scored a long line into the grass. The last thing Charlie remembered was the sheer panic of careering across the field towards a small wood at the far end.

  Something strange happened when he came to. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. Where the hell was he? Christ, he felt strange. Woozy. This was bloody marvellous. Could he still talk?

  “Hoi? Help?” he called out and heard feet running towards him on a tiled floor, by the sound of it.

  “Hush, Flight Lieutenant Butler,” a woman’s voice told him. “You’ll wake everyone up.”

  “Where the hell am I?” he asked irritably.

  “You were in hospital in Kent first, but now you’re in London, in Moorfields Eye Hospital. Your plane crashed into a wood. You were lucky to survive.”

  Lucky to survive? He tried to frown, but couldn’t.

  “What’s wrong with me, Nurse? You are a nurse?”

  “Yes, I am. You’re not long out of theatre. We didn’t expect you to come around so soon.”

  “Theatre? You mean I’ve had an operation?” Fear began to set in. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “That’s not up to me, Flight Lieutenant. I’ll fetch the doctor.”

  He heard her walk away. Jesus, what was it? He heard footsteps again a couple of minutes later – the nurse and another pair of feet – the doctor, he presumed.

  “Flight Lieutenant Butler, I’m Dr Lennox. You had a damned lucky escape.�
�

  “Yes, so I’ve been told,” he replied, starting to get angry. “Tell me what’s wrong. I feel so strange.”

  “Flight Lieutenant Butler, your plane came to rest amongst a group of trees. As you had been travelling at great speed there was quite an impact. The ambulance driver said that to see your plane, it was a miracle you survived.”

  “Tell me,” he snapped.

  “One of your legs – the right – was broken in four places. Since the war started we now accept general surgical cases here so that is why, because of your injuries, you were brought from Kent to Moorfields. We performed a new procedure called an internal fixation on that leg. Put simply, we lined up the pieces of bone using metal plates, rods, nails and screws and then closed the skin over the surgery site. The metal pieces hold the bones together while they heal, and they stay in the leg permanently. Your leg is now in a plaster cast and should heal, given time and rest.”

  “My eyes?” he croaked.

  “Yes, your eyes.” Charlie heard the hesitation in the doctor’s voice and his gut twisted painfully. “When you hit the trees, the cockpit hood of your plane, the windscreen, and your goggles were ripped off. Some of the glass penetrated your eyes. We managed to get it all out of your left eye. You should be able to see perfectly well with it in time. Your right, however, was the most badly affected. That eye was beyond repair and had to be removed.”

  He’d lost an eye. His first urge was to cry, but how the hell could he?

  “When the scar tissue has healed a ball will be surgically implanted into your eye socket and you will be given a glass prosthetic eye. It is a thin glass shell which fits over the ball. It will be made exactly to your requirements, in colour and all. Other than that, there are cuts and bruises. You had a very lucky escape.”

  Did he? Charlie felt sick.

  “Do you have any next of kin we can inform?” the doctor asked. “Parents? Wife?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anyone, Flight Lieutenant?”

  “I said no.”

  “Very well. Your squadron leader has been informed you are safe and in London. Perhaps some of your—”

  “No,” Charlie roared and sank back, pain beginning to register.

  “I see. Well, you are on morphine. Please inform the nurse when you need more.”

  Charlie didn’t answer and heard both sets of footsteps walk away. A moment or two later the nurse returned.

  “Do you want some more morphine?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure there’s no-one?”

  “There’s no-one.”

  “All right. Well, call me if you want anything.”

  The footsteps died away and Charlie was left alone. He seemed to be in a room on his own as he couldn’t hear anyone else. Not that he cared. A leg pieced back together with metal and an eye gone. God Almighty, what use was he now? He’d never fly again.

  “Nurse?” he called and heard footsteps.

  “Yes, Flight Lieutenant?”

  “I want to cry. Can I?”

  He felt a hand on his forehead, smoothing his hair back. Kate used to do that. Oh, Christ. Kate.

  “Of course you can. Would you like me to sit with you?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” He cried and cried, not knowing if there were any tears. “What am I going to do?” he asked, more to himself than to the nurse. “All I can do is fly.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be given another post, Flight Lieutenant,” the nurse said softly. “How old are you?”

  “I’ll be thirty-one in a couple of weeks. I don’t think I’ll be having much of a party now.”

  He tried to smile, but it hurt. The nurse squeezed his hand. That hurt, too.

  “You must have someone, then, if you were going to have a party,” she said. “Come on now, a handsome man like you.”

  Now Charlie did smile, despite the pain. Handsome? No, he wasn’t. Not anymore. How could anyone find a one-eyed ex-pilot with a limp handsome? Least of all Kate?

  “I meant a party in the Officers’ Mess. A few beers, a sing-song.”

  “So you must have friends in the squadron? Come on, you must want a few visitors Flight Lieutenant?”

  “My name’s Charlie and…” He groaned, the pain was hitting him hard. “I don’t want them seeing me like this. I don’t want them thinking they could end up like this.”

  “I realise that, but you must have a best friend?”

  Billy. The only member of the 3 Bs still in one piece.

  “Yes. Billy. Billy Benson. Flying Officer.”

  “At last.” The nurse squeezed his hand again. He heard her get up and he fumbled for her arm.

  “Just Billy, Nurse. No-one else.”

  “All right, Charlie. Now, do you want some more morphine?”

  “Yes, please,” he whispered. The pain was bloody awful. It would be best if he slept. At least he wouldn’t have to think.

  When he woke again he heard voices and felt excruciating pain down his right leg. Some bastard was tapping on the plaster cast.

  “Bloody hell, stop,” he begged.

  “More morphine,” he heard the doctor mutter. “Ah, you’re back with us, I see.”

  “I’m so glad you can see,” he snapped. Christ, the pain.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “When will the bandages come off my eyes?”

  “The one over the right eye will be on for a month at least until the area heals and is fit to receive the ball. The bandage over the left eye, a bit less. We’ll see how things go.”

  “You’ll see, you mean?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Charlie. May I call you Charlie?”

  “All right. What about my leg?”

  “It’s going to take time to heal. It was badly broken. Now, more morphine.”

  Charlie slept again. The morphine was great stuff, it knocked him out cold. When he woke again he sensed someone was beside his bed.

  “Is that you, Nurse?”

  “Yes. I’m going to try you with some soup.”

  “And just how am I supposed to drink soup when I’m like this?” he demanded.

  “I’ll help you. You must eat.”

  He was spoon-fed the soup but was past caring. He was starving.

  “When was I brought in?” he asked.

  “Two days ago.” He heard the bowl being placed on a hard surface. “You were in your plane all the previous night. It took the fire brigade hours to cut you out. You were first in a hospital in Kent but then, with the extent of your injuries, you were brought here. Do you need the bedpan?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “How is the pain?”

  “Terrific,” he replied wryly.

  “Would you like some more morphine?”

  “No, I suppose I should get used to things.”

  “Not if the pain is very bad. Tell me if it is. Would you like to listen to the wireless? There’s one about somewhere.”

  “No, not the wireless.” He smiled bitterly. “I don’t want to hear the news. I’m supposed to be on leave, resting.”

  “I’ll bring you a cup of tea in a few minutes.”

  The tea went straight through him and he had to call the nurse back minutes after drinking it. He’d never had to use a bedpan before and the whole experience was very humiliating, especially when he had to ask the nurse to guide him. He lay back and swore when it was over.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Charlie.” He felt the nurse tuck the sheets in. “I’ve seen it all before, don’t worry. Are you sure you don’t want the wireless?”

  “Positive. Thanks, Nurse.”

  “Not at all.” She smoothed hair off his forehead and he shuddered. “What is it? Are you in pain?”

  “No, I just don’t like you doing that.”

  “I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if you were warm.”

  “I am,” he replied angrily. “You could have asked me or used a thermometer.”

  “I will in future. I’m sorry,
Charlie.”

  He heard her walk away, went to roll his eyes, and stopped himself just in time. Oh, God. Kate had been the only one who had touched and held him like that. She had seen him when he had been whole. God, now he had an erection. He sighed. At least that still worked.

  After breakfast, he was about to ask for the wireless when he heard voices out in the corridor.

  “Charlie?” It was Billy’s voice and he heard a hesitant knock at the door and it opening. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  The door closed and he felt Billy stare at him, taking in all the bandages. There was a shocked silence before Billy spoke again.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Terrific, marvellous. Sit down if there’s a chair.”

  He heard a chair being dragged across the floor and Billy sitting down on it.

  “Charlie, I…”

  “I know. It was my stupid fault. You’re all right? The rest of the boys?”

  “Yes,” Billy replied. “We’re all fine.”

  “Well, I’ve shown them how it’s not done at least.”

  “Charlie, you shot down your sixth. The CO sends his best wishes.”

  “I’ll never fly again, you know,” he said, fighting back tears.

  “I know. You’ve been recommended for a Distinguished Flying Cross.”

  Charlie exhaled a humourless laugh. “A DFC as a retirement present? Am I not even going to get a carriage clock?”

  He heard Billy move uncomfortably. “Charlie? Kate, Clive and Toby…”

  “What about them?”

  “They need to be told.”

  “No.”

  “Charlie, for God’s sake,” Billy retorted. “Kate’s bound to find out.”

  “Don’t you dare tell her, Billy.”

  “Christ, Charlie, what if a report is sent to her Sector Station?”

  “I don’t want her here, Billy. Clive and Toby neither.”

  “But why?” Billy sounded bewildered.

  “I just don’t. They’ve seen enough already.”

  “But what about when you’re discharged? You’ll need help.”

  “I’ll manage.” Reaching out, he fumbled for Billy’s collar, found it, and shook him. “Promise me?”

  He heard Billy sigh. “You’re a stupid bloody fool, but all right.”