A Misfit Midwinter
A Misfit Squadron Novel
December 1940
Simon Brading
Cover artwork by Jack Tindale
Hawking advert by Ian T. Brading
This book is a work of fiction. While ‘real-world’ characters may appear, the nature of the divergent story means any depictions herein are fictionalised and in no way an indication of real events. Above all, characterisations have been developed with the primary aim of telling a compelling story.
Published by Sea Lion Press, 2019. All rights reserved.
Author’s Note
This is the first of two short books which bridge the events in “The Russian Resistance” and the upcoming novels in the series.
The Misfits
A Flight - Turn Fighters
Badger One - Abigail “Abby” Lennox. Pilot of Dragonfly
Badger Two - Gwenevere “Gwen” Stone. Without aircraft
Badger Three - Bruce “Walkabout” Walker. Pilot of Sable
Badger Four - Montgomery “Monty” Fletcher. Pilot of Raptor
B Flight – Interceptors
Badger Five - Derek “Twitcher” Niven. Pilot of Swift
Badger Six - Kitty Wright. Pilot of Hawk
Badger Seven - William “Mad Mac” MacShane. Pilot of Jaguar
Badger Eight - Chastity Arrowsmith. Pilot of Dove
C Flight - Support
Badger Nine - Owen “Sheepish” Llewellyn. Pilot of Bloodhound
Badger Ten - Wendy “Firepower” Llewellyn. Pilot of Dreadnought
Badger Eleven - Charles “Chalky” Isaacs. Pilot of Vulture
Badger Twelve - Ophelia “Scarlet” Flynn. Pilot of Hummingbird
Chapter 1
Gwen Stone watched as Dragonfly, the aircraft of her commanding officer, Acting Group Captain Abby Lennox, was carried by the lift at the Arturo’s bows into the hangar directly below the flight deck. The other five Misfit Squadron aircraft were already there and it was only her left in the air now. Because of the injury she had sustained when Wasp had been shot out from beneath her and the fact that she was in an unfamiliar aircraft, she had been instructed by Abby to wait until last before landing, in case of mishap.
‘Badger Seven, this is Tinman. You are clear to land, repeat, clear to land.’
It took Gwen a second to realise that the carrier’s radar controller was speaking to her; she wasn’t only flying the incapacitated Mac’s aircraft, Jaguar, for him, she had also taken his position in the order of battle. ‘Tinman, Badger Seven here. Acknowledged, thank you.’
Gwen dropped out of her holding pattern and swung around to line Jaguar up on the aircraft carrier’s stern.
She throttled back and Jaguar sank gently from the sky. A few twitches on the stick and rudder had the big twin-springed machine on the optimum flight path and she trimmed her until she would almost land herself if she let go of the controls.
Thirty seconds out and everything was perfect. It was time to put down her landing gear. She took her left hand off the throttle and reached for the gear lever. She gave it a tug, but it was stiff and she couldn’t bring enough force to bear with her dislocated shoulder. With no other choice and no time left, she changed hands on the stick and reached across her body with her right arm.
Just as her fingers touched the lever, she was buffeted by a rogue crosswind coming off the cliffs of the coastline below and Jaguar swung perilously off course, her nose pointing at the sea instead of the metal deck.
Gwen fought the stick with her bad arm and stars flared to life behind her eyes as her shoulder protested, but she had no choice but to do it; her life depended on not losing control completely. Jaguar responded and levelled off quickly, but the damage was done - she was a long way off the glide path.
She had only moments to make a decision - throw on full power and abort, or trust in her ability and attempt to recover an approach that was looking increasingly lost.
Ordinarily, it would have been an easy decision to make; there wasn’t a single pilot in the world, Gwen included, who, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have given up on such a disastrous landing attempt and gone around again. The only problem was they weren’t normal circumstances; Jaguar was running extremely low on spring tension because of Gwen being last on the landing list and twin-springed aircraft didn’t have the luxury of a reserve spring to fall back on.
To Gwen’s mind there was only one option.
She rammed the gear lever home and switched her hands back over without waiting for the whirring from the small but powerful springs in the wing roots to begin. She immediately put the stick hard over to the left, setting Jaguar on her wing, then pulled back, banking hard. She stamped on the rudder pedals and threw on more power to keep the aircraft in the air, holding the extreme turn for a couple of heartbeats, then reversed it, throwing Jaguar through a full one hundred and eighty degrees and onto her opposite wing.
There was the aircraft carrier, almost directly above her from her perspective, far too close for comfort, and she pulled the stick into her lap again, banking towards it.
The man at the side of the deck who was responsible for helping pilots land was frantically waving his two red ping-pong bats at her to abort, but she blocked him out and focussed all her attention on where the arrester wires lay across the deck, waiting to a bring her to an abrupt halt.
Still turning, she crossed the stern of the aircraft carrier, her right wingtip only inches from it and wrenched the stick back to the left with both hands, gritting her teeth at the pain in her shoulder.
Jaguar responded beautifully. The aircraft that she, Mac, Abby and Kitty had designed together was incredibly agile despite its size and the wings came precisely level just as the wheels thumped hard into the deck. The hook under the big machine’s tail snagged a wire, instantly jerking her to a standstill and throwing Gwen forward to be brought up hard by her straps. Burning agony shot through her shoulder once more and her eyes flickered closed as the pain overwhelmed her.
An insistent knocking on the canopy slowly brought her back to herself and she looked up to see Sergeant Jenkins, her fitter, standing on Jaguar’s wing, peering through the glass in concern.
‘You alright, Officer Stone?’
Gwen blinked at him, wondering how he had moved so quickly. ‘Yes, fine. Yes. Thank you.’ She thumbed the catches on either side of the cockpit and together they slid the canopy back on its runners.
‘Would you shut down then, please, ma’am?’
Gwen lifted her gaze and saw that Jaguar’s airscrews were still buzzing angrily. The big machine was straining against the arrester wire and it felt like she might break free at any moment. She cursed and reached across her body to pull both of the throttles back and lock them off, then grinned sheepishly at the fitter. ‘Sorry.’
He chuckled, then leaned in to help Gwen with her straps. ‘No problem, ma’am. It’s not as if she’s my machine anyway.’
Gwen grinned as she clambered awkwardly up onto the seat, but her legs were shaky beneath her and she grabbed at the edge of the cockpit to steady herself, idly wondering whether the carrier had gotten under way while she hadn’t been looking
Jenkins frowned at her. ‘Shall I get a medical orderly, ma’am?’
‘No thank you, I don’t want to make a fuss.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’ll collapse when I’m not in full sight of the entire bloody Navy.’ She tilted her head towards the observation pit running along the starboard side of the deck. It looked like most of the Arturo’s off-duty crew had gathered to watch the Misfits return, despite temperatures being well below freezing. ‘Just help me down, please.’
‘Right you are, ma’am.’
Despite her increasingly un
stable legs, Gwen made it to the deck in one piece. She nodded gratefully to Jenkins, who had managed to help her down without making it look like she needed him, but rather that he was just being gentlemanly. She gave a second nod to Jessica Hudson, Mac’s fitter, who was anxiously waiting to take charge of her aircraft. ‘Sorry for that landing.’
‘Nothing to apologise for, ma’am.’ The severe, black-haired woman said. ‘She’s down in one piece, that’s all that matters.’
Gwen gave her a smile, then turned back to Jenkins. ‘Would you accompany me, please? I’m not entirely sure I’ll make it on my own.’
‘It would be my pleasure, ma’am.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant.’
They started towards the port side of the carrier, away from the watching naval personnel, heading for the nearest stairwell down to the hangar. Gwen managed to walk, held up mostly by her pride, but she was grateful for the presence of the fitter at her elbow; knowing he was there to catch her gave her strength. They only made it half way across the deck, though, before the lithe figure of Kitty came bounding up the stairs. She was still wearing her tightly-fitted red and white flightsuit and the way she looked in it as she jogged towards them took away what little breath Gwen had to spare.
‘You alright, ma’am?’
Jenkins’ whisper brought Gwen’s attention to the fact that she had stopped walking in order to better appreciate the sight of the young woman. She felt her cheeks heat, even with the freezing wind blowing off the ocean. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit... distracted.’
The fitter grinned. ‘No idea why.’ He nodded a greeting to Kitty as she bounced to a halt in front of them, grinning broadly, then turned back to his pilot. ‘I’ll leave you in better company than mine, then, ma’am. Take care of yourself; we need you to make another aircraft for us so we can beat that bugger Gruber for what he’s done.’
‘Will do, Sergeant, and thank you again.’
‘Pleasure.’ With a last nod, Jenkins wandered back towards Jaguar. He seemed almost at a loss for what to do, now that he didn’t have an aircraft to take care of.
‘So, how did Jaguar treat you? Was she upset at not being sworn at in a thick Scottish accent every five minutes? Or did she...’ Kitty broke off, her smile completely disappearing when she noticed the golden aircraft still sitting on the flight deck.
‘What? What’s wrong?’ Gwen turned to see what the American was staring at and had to swallow to keep back the bile rising in her gullet.
The Misfit pilots had been trained to hit the third of four main arrester wires stretched across the deck of an aircraft carrier. That way there was no danger of them coming up short and missing the deck entirely and there was a spare wire in case they overshot. Gwen had managed to miss all four wires and been brought up by a fifth, a good few yards beyond, that was only there for emergencies. Not only that but, with how hard she’d landed, she’d been in real danger of bouncing over it and with her brief loss of consciousness she would most likely have ended up in the water off the bow.
‘I’ve never seen you land so badly, are you...?’ Kitty stopped when she saw Gwen’s pallor and wrapped an arm around her. ‘Come on, let’s get you below.’
Gwen let herself be led towards the stairwell, leaning into the young woman more than was strictly necessary, but groaned and came to a halt again when Abby appeared from one of the stairwells towards the bow and strode towards them, her face like thunder. Gwen had hoped that she would have been too busy seeing to her aircraft to witness her absolute pig’s ear of a landing, but no such luck.
‘Gwen! What the hell was that?’ The leader of the Misfits was already bawling even before she got even close to them. ‘You should know better than to pull a stunt like that! If the wind pushes you off bloody hell you look awful!’ Abby completely changed tack, her anger instantly disappearing to be replaced by worry when she got a good look at her pilot. ‘For pity’s sake, what are you standing around here in the cold for?’
Abby formed up on Gwen’s other wing and together she and Kitty escorted her to the stairwell.
They made it almost all the way down to the hangar deck before Gwen’s legs finally gave way and she could go no further. Rather than face the indignity of being carried, she called a halt so that she could rest and the two women helped her sit on the stairs.
‘Stay here, I’m going for a medic.’ Abby ran down the last few stairs and disappeared through the bulkhead door into the hangar.
After the engine room, the hangar was the most dangerous places on the ship, when not under enemy fire, at least, and there was always at least one medical orderly stationed there to cope with the all too frequent mishaps.
Kitty sat next to Gwen while they waited, as close as she could get without being on her lap. ‘Is it just your shoulder or is your head hurting again?’
‘I don’t think it’s my head, but everything’s a bit fuzzy right now so I can’t really tell.’ Gwen reached up to undo her helmet, but Kitty batted her hands out of the way and did it for her, lifting it off to reveal the white bandages underneath. She laid the helmet, with its complicated array of lenses carefully to one side, before inspecting the back of Gwen’s head. Thankfully, there was no sign of blood from the cut she had sustained only a couple of days before - the stitches had survived the flight and bumpy landing.
‘My poor darling.’ Kitty reached out to cup the side of Gwen’s face and leaned forward to give her a gentle kiss.
‘Yes, yes, that can wait. Stop canoodling and let me do my job, please.’
Kitty drew back with a start and the two pilots found a medical orderly standing at the bottom of the stairs smiling up at them. She was a pretty young woman, barely out of her teens, with fair hair and copious amounts of freckles across her cheeks and nose.
A grinning Abby was standing behind her. ‘If you’re well enough to behave like that, then I’m going to go back to bawling you out.’
Gwen grimaced. ‘I’d rather you didn’t; I’ve got a bit of a headache. Can’t you just bawl out Mac instead? After all, it was his machine that almost landed me in the drink.’
The group captain chuckled, but shook her head. ‘That’s not going to fly, sorry. I will leave the dressing-down until you’re better, though.’
‘It’s appreciated.’
‘Excuse me!’ The medic interrupted. ‘Do you mind if I get my patient to sick bay? Or would you like me to go get you some tea and cakes while you finish your chat?’ Whatever the young orderly might have lacked in experience she more than made up in authority and sass and, even though she softened her words with a smile, there was no mistaking the concern for her patient that prompted them.
Abby laughed. ‘No, ma’am!’
She moved to help Gwen up, but Kitty waved her away with a smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. Without any “canoodling.”‘
Abby laughed. ‘Thank you.’ She looked at Gwen. ‘I should get back to the hangar, but I will speak to you later.’
‘Alright.’ Gwen smiled feebly, not really looking forward to facing her commander, despite feeling that she had made the right decision.
Chapter 2
When Gwen and Kitty got to sick bay, Mac was already there, grumbling and complaining about being confined to bed.
He had protested vehemently that morning when Abby had ordered him to hand Jaguar over to Gwen. However, despite the fact that Gwen wasn’t strictly fit to fly after she’d been shot down by Hans Gruber, the leader of the Crimson Barons, she was in better condition than Mac and it had either been that or leave the aircraft behind.
Mac had been carried by Dreadnought to the small airfield at a small town called Teriberka on the coast nearby, where the larger C flight aircraft were being dismantled for the journey, but the landing operations for A and B flights had taken so long that the naval personnel had had time to bring him out to the Arturo and make him comfortable before Gwen got there.
Kitty and the young orderly, who introduced herself as Polly Am
es, got Gwen out of her flightsuit and into a hospital gown before putting her into the bed next to the Scotsman. Polly then excused herself, saying that she needed to get back to her station in the hangar. They thanked her and she nodded, giving them both a warm smile, before leaving Gwen in the care of the doctors.
Mac had watched the whole process, fidgeting, barely able to contain himself, and as soon as Gwen was settled he growled at them. ‘Well? What did you do to my aircraft?’
Gwen briefly considered employing the usual Misfit modus operandi and teasing him by implying that she’d had some kind of accident, but then thought better of it; after the events of the day before, he likely wouldn’t take it well. She smiled reassuringly. ‘I had a rough landing and a bit of a fright, but Jaguar’s in one piece, don’t worry.’
Mac grunted and finally relaxed back onto his pillow. ‘That’s the last time I let a bloody Sassenach drive my bird.’
Kitty winked at Gwen before calling out to him in a sweet voice. ‘What about a Yank? Or an Aussie? I hear Bruce wouldn’t mind having a bit of a joyride in a fast aircraft...’
‘No bloody way! If that numpty wants a ride in a decent machine he can build one hissel. Or fly yers.’ Mac stabbed a finger at her to punctuate the word, then rolled onto his side, showing them his back.
Gwen and Kitty exchanged a dismayed look at the spite in Mac’s voice; he had never spoken to his fellow pilots that way before and they wondered just how deeply the death of his beautiful Muscovite girlfriend, Katerina, had affected him.
Gwen was very quickly checked over by the efficient Navy doctors. They reassured her that the Muscovite doctors had done a good job patching her up and that the only thing that she could do was rest. They then released her, giving her willow bark pills for the pain and told her to go to bed.
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