Not Flag or Fail Page 12

  About half an hour later the CPO checked us through the gate security at Croydon airport. From the familiar way he spoke to the RAF police on duty, it was obvious this was not his first visit.

  “Here you are lads, the famous Croydon airport you’ve seen it on the newsreels, peace in our time eh, didn’t last too long did it?” The Chief said, as the Morris bumped its way around the perimeter track.

  Despite being an RAF station, Corydon still had the look of the commercial airport it had been until only a few months previously. We came to a halt outside a hanger at the far end of the runway; it was isolated from all the other buildings and was much smaller than the other hangers that were grouped together at the busier end of the aerodrome. We got out and followed the CPO into a hut which was obviously a new wartime addition that had been built right next to the hanger.

  The curtains were closed and a single light bulb lit the interior, a stove was lit despite it being quite a mild evening. Three men in RAF uniform reclined in various postures upon old sofas and overstuffed chairs, newspapers and magazines littered the floor and a smoke fume hung in the curve of the huts ceiling.

  “I see you’ve tidied up for us then Jonesey?”

  A flight-sergeant with a pencil moustache looked up from the paperback novel he was reading, lazily flicked cigarette ash on to the floor and in a strong welsh accent said, “Would have done Smithy, my old mate, just didn’t have the time see.”

  He turned to one of the two Lac’s “Come on then Peters, your turn to get the kettle on, make our guests a brew now.”

  “Lads can I introduce you to Flight Sergeant Alan Jones, with his two cohorts Lac’s Smith, no relation, and Peters, the one on char duty.”

  We nodded our greeting.

  “Once we’ve had our brew I’ll have no choice but to leave you in their hands in this dump!”

  “You just ignore him boyos’ he gets a bit snobbish with his senior service thing from time to time, still hasn’t realised it’s just a brand of ciggies see.”

  We all sat down and lit up whilst L.A.C. Peters dished out mugs of tea. In a more serious tone the Flight Sergeant told us we had a few hours before things started to happen, so if we wanted to get our heads down for a bit, there were two spare bunks in the back room we could use for a kip. When we had finished our tea we went outside to wave goodbye to CPO Smith and the Lance Corporal as they set off back to base.

  Inside the hut again, Peters took us into the back where we each took off our coats and got down on a bunk, pulled a blanket up and did our best to grab a couple of hours sleep.

  Surprisingly, despite the excitement, I did manage to drop off and it was some time later when Smith gave us both a shake and told us it was time to get up.

  Back into our jackets and webbing, we went back into the main part of the hut where the clock on the wall showed the time as just after a quarter past twelve.

  Peters was again on char duty and handed us both a steaming mug of hot tea and a bacon sandwich. After we’d eaten we sat down in the armchairs again and lit cigarettes. Peters said “the Skipper’s arrived, he’ll be in, in a min, he’s just checking over the aeroplane with flight,

  “What are we going over in?” asked Ronny.

  “Lysander.” said Smith without elaborating.

  “Bit small for three of us, isn’t it?”

  “You’ll be fine; we’ve altered this one a bit.” Smith was obviously a man of few words.

  Just then the door opened and in walked the Flight Sergeant, followed by a little man not much older than myself.

  He was dressed in a sheepskin flying jacket and boots, he was already wearing his Mae West, on his head was perched an RAF Glengarry.

  “Evening chaps I’m your bus driver tonight, allow me to introduce myself, my name is Flight Lieutenant John Morton, but you can call me Jack, as you might have noticed we don’t stand on ceremony here.”He moved across to the stove and poured himself a mug of tea.

  “Have either of you flown before?” he asked.

  “I’ve stooged about a bit in Tiger Moths.” said Ronny.

  “That’s good, might be a bit bumpy that’s all, what about you?” he said looking at me, I shook my head, he continued.

  “Ok, we’ve got quite a tailwind but I reckon even with the amount of turbulence that we’re going to get we should be touching down in not much more than two hours and ten minutes. Don’t worry; I’ll get you there even if at times it will, I think, feel a bit like a roller coaster.” He paused and fiddled about for quite a while, filling a pipe and trying to get it lit; when he was satisfied it was going well, he started again.

  “Now then we’re using the Lysander tonight, we’ve extended the back cockpit a bit to take two passengers but it will still be a bit cramped in the back for two of you. Flights fixed a sort of storage box up underneath, so at least you can put your guns in, which should give you a bit more room. Now I know exactly where I’m going to put you down but I really don’t want to stay with you, so I’ll need you to turn me around as soon as we’ve landed. These two reprobates will show you how to do this before we take off.” He tapped his pipe on the side of the stove causing a shower of sparks to fall onto the concrete hearth as he did so saying, “Shall we go then?”

  With a little help in my case we both put on our parachutes and followed Jack outside, he and Flight Sergeant Jones walking ahead of the rest of us. We all went into the hanger through a pedestrian door and Peters immediately began turning off the lights, leaving just a couple of very dull ones that just about enabled us to see the aeroplane. The Lysander was not a big aircraft but it looked friendly. It stood on a fixed undercarriage, its nose pointing towards the sky; its big wings were fixed to the top of the fuselage giving it a sort of dragonfly look. It was painted in matt black underneath with dark shades of camouflage on top, which I guessed would make it very difficult to spot at night, either from above or below. While I had been taking in the airplane’s details L.A.C. Smith was turning a handle that was slowly opening the huge hanger doors, allowing the moonlight to spread a ghostly light over the scene.

  The Flight Sergeant took us across to stow our weapons in the case below the aeroplane and showed us how to open it again when we got to the other side.

  When the doors were nearly fully open, Peters turned off the remaining lights and Jack, using the undercarriage struts as a ladder, climbed into the cockpit. Peters bade me follow him and we took up station by the struts on the starboard wing, the doors fully open now. Smith and Ronny did the same on the port wing and between us we pushed the aircraft surprisingly easily out of the hanger. When we were well clear, Flight Sergeant Jones and Jack went through the checks, and then shattered the silence as they started the Bristol Mercury radial engine which soon settled into a very smooth tick over.

  With a little touch on the throttle, the aircraft moved forward, Peters demonstrated to me just how easily the aircraft could be turned by using the wing struts. Smith no doubt showing Ronny the same lesson probably not realising it was one he already knew. At the end of the runway Flight Sergeant Jones, who had gone back to the hanger, rejoined us carrying a short aluminum ladder. He placed the ladder up against the side of the Lysander, climbed up and released the rear canopy, he came back down and pointed out two fixed points we could use for our feet on our descent back out of the aeroplane. Ronny didn’t need telling, he was up and in the plane as soon as the Flight Sergeant had finished, leaving me the other seat which faced the tailplane.

  As soon as I was fitted into my seat, the Flight Sergeant was up at the top of the ladder and strapping us in. He explained how to release both the straps and the canopy, and how to close the canopy once out on the other side, he then closed the canopy and was gone. When I looked down he was holding the little ladder, flanked by Peters and Smith, all three of them waving us off.

  Jack got on the radio and asked the tower for permission to take off, there was no answer that I could hear but we started to move forward the engi
ne revs increasing rapidly. Looking down I could see our speed increasing as we passed by the runway lights, then much sooner than I expected, we were in the air and climbing quickly.

  We flew over the control tower which was in darkness; I thought I could make out a dull desk light; and it looked as though someone was on the balcony waving goodbye to us but I couldn’t be sure. This was a new experience for me so it was quite a surprise when the plane went over onto its side as the pilot executed a turn, taking us back over the hanger, climbing again as we headed for the coast.

  It seemed the blackout restrictions were working because looking down I couldn’t see anything at all now.

  After about ten minutes Jack shouted back that we were at cruising speed and flying due east towards Canterbury where we would pick up the river Stour, which in turn, would take us to Sandwich from where we would set off across the Channel. He told us that if we looked down we would eventually pick out the moon, reflecting on the river.

  As we climbed higher, the engine noise seemed to be drowned out by the buffeting of the wind and creaking of struts and things, as the little plane bucked and rocked from side to side.

  The cockpit was now fully lit by the moon and if I craned my neck I could see Ronnie’s face as if it was in daylight, he looked relaxed, happy and natural as he constantly looked out from side to side.

  After about twenty five minutes the Lysander made a turn to starboard and I felt it start to drop in height.

  “Out over the sea now chaps! I’m going to fly across at about two hundred feet, well under their radar. It should be less bumpy down there too. Reckon we’ll make landfall on the other side in about twenty-five to forty minutes and then up higher again for the last bit. I’ll shut up now, need to concentrate on my instruments for a while.”

  Ronny and I talked quietly in the back. I asked him how he was feeling and he told me he hadn’t realised how much he had missed flying. We then started wondering what we were doing up here anyway, things had happened so quickly in the last two days that we hadn’t until now had time to stop and think. Both of us shared a laugh when we realised that it was a bit late to do anything about it now. Incredibly as we talked we saw that we were probably both a bit excited to be doing this, we both agreed it got the pulse racing a bit more than normal, not that being bombed by Stuka’s didn’t, but overall we decided that despite being coerced in the first place, if we were given a choice now we would probably still be here anyway. Jack shouted over his shoulder to us. “Welcome to France chaps! Going to climb up a bit now so probably a bit more bump and grind, then touchdown in around forty minutes I’m guessing.”

  I felt, rather than saw, the plane rising. On occasions, as I looked down, I caught sight of the odd building, but most of the view, now well lit by the moon, was open countryside. I noticed that we seemed to follow a canal for a while and then passed over the edge of a town.

  On this side of the Channel the turbulence was far less and I was just beginning to enjoy the flight when Jack shouted back again.

  “We’re nearly there now, going down a bit now to look for our field.”

  The plane dropped quickly and I could easily make out trees and hedges now, I guessed we were only about fifty feet high, we did a one hundred and eighty degree turn to starboard, then the engine revs dropped. I heard, rather than saw, the flaps operate and we slowed down rapidly, Jack shouted back. “This is it chaps get ready.”

  Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the plane bumped onto the ground, another small bump followed and then the wheels were down and we sped across the darkened field.

  Alert as ever Ronny had the canopy undone and open before we had come to a stop at the end of the field. He signalled for me to get out. I unbuckled my seatbelt, levered myself up, found the two footholds and dropped to the ground. Quickly removing my parachute and Mae West I threw them back up to Ronny. He took off his own, threw them all onto the empty back seats and went about closing the canopy, whilst I opened up the storage box and took out our Thompson’s.

  Ronny dropped down to join me, slinging our guns over our shoulders we each took hold of a wing strut and gave the thumbs up to Jack. He didn’t need telling twice and quickly applied a bit of throttle which allowed us to turn him around giving him the full length of the field to take off in.

  Jack gave us both a wave, opened the throttle and bumped out across the field, the engine note rose and in little more than a hundred yards he was back up in the air and climbing; we moved into the hedge and watched him move away.

  In just a minute, the sound of his engine had died away; the night had swallowed him up.

  We were once again alone, in France.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  We couldn’t be sure that the aeroplane had not been seen or if anyone was coming to investigate, so we didn’t wait to find out. We moved quickly to the side of the hedgerow and followed it along to where eventually we came to a gate which we climbed over and came into a narrow lane.

  Keeping close to the hedge, we walked silently down the lane on our rubber soles. Not long afterwards we came to a junction where the lane met another of a similar size, both enclosed by tall hedges, I decided that this was easy country to get lost in.

  I whispered to Ronny that we should think about somewhere to get a look at the map and take a compass reading, he nodded his agreement and we continued down the lane. After about a quarter of a mile we saw a farmhouse about fifty yards away at the end of a rough track, a dog barked once, then coughed a couple of times before falling silent again.

  A little further on we came to a barn, I nudged Ronny and we carefully made our way inside.

  Partially derelict and completely open at the lane end, we saw at the other end the remains of the winters hay, we made our way towards it, and then climbed to the top of the pile of bales some twenty feet above the ground.

  We were well hidden up there but we still took the precaution of moving the bales to create a little nest. When this was done we took out a map, a compass and a torch.

  The field where Jack had put us down was to the north of Bailleul it was unknown territory to us but we found it easily enough on the map, we worked out our present position and once we had done this it was easy to work out our route to the town.

  I suggested having a cigarette but Ronny thought we should wait until we were somewhere less exposed.

  We had just started our descent down off the top of the hay when we heard the sound of an engine. We went quickly back up the ladder again and hid behind the bales, keeping out of sight yet still able to peer down into the barn.

  Seconds later the floor was lit by the dim slot of light from a BMW motorcycle and sidecar heading down to our end of the barn, we gripped the Thompson’s and waited, it looked as though our mission was going to be over before it had begun.

  The soldier driving, stopped the engine, got off his seat and waited for the passenger to get out of the sidecar, the tension eased as both Ronny and I quickly realised that the passenger was a woman. As soon as she was out, the rider grabbed her and started to try and kiss her but she pushed him firmly away.

  Saying “Non, Non, s’il vous plait donnez -moi l’argent d’abord monsieur” then leaning back away from the soldier she laughed as she watched him.

  The German fumbled into his pocket and handed something to her, she tucked it away and swiftly pulled off her panties and leaned back against the hay, “rapide s’il vous plaît monsieur pressé she said as he pulled down his trousers.

  Ronny mimed slitting the Germans throat but I shook my head, I felt it was best to wait and see what happened, we didn’t have to wait too long, in a few minutes the deed was done and she was pulling her pants back on as the soldier lay back, breathing heavily.

  Voulez-vous de le faire à nouveau? She asked him laughing, her voice harsh and gravely.

  “Nein, Nein bitter.”replied the soldier his lust satiated for now. He pulled up his trousers and took out his cigarettes, they both lay back
against the hay and smoked, it was obvious that neither could speak the others language, so not much conversation ensued. Fifteen minutes later both of them were back onboard the motorcycle and we watched as the soldier quietly drove back out of the barn.

  We started our descent once again, this time making it to the bottom. Ronny signalled to me and I followed him around the back of the hay. In a corner of the barn he leaned against the wall and pulled out a tin of cigarettes, handing me one, he whispered, “I’ve changed my mind, I always like a smoke after sex, don’t you?”

  I smiled, took the fag and a light from his lighter, as I blew the smoke out I whispered back, “Well at least us having a smoke will give them time to get out of the area.”

  It was just before two a.m. When we left the barn, the moonlight was still very bright so we kept well into the side of the lane staying wherever possible in the shadow of the hedgerow.

  Not much stirred as we walked quickly on, at one stage we stopped and watched a badger meander across the lane ten yards in front of us. Later as a fox burst through the hedge a yard away from us, all three of us Ronny me and the fox visibly jumped at the surprise encounter, these rubber soles were just so silent. We figured out that we would make the tomb in an hour or less so that would give us time to pick up the despatch case and get another couple of hours closer to the beach before needing to find somewhere to lay up when it got light. The quickest route would take us through the centre of the town which was now visible in the distance but we knew we couldn’t risk it, there were bound to be Germans about somewhere.

  We were working our way around the very outskirts of the town realising as we did so that we would have to briefly show ourselves in the open when we crossed the main road that lay about thirty feet ahead of us. We were paused, waiting to run across into the darkness of the lane on the other side when again we heard the sound of engines approaching.

  “Down.” whispered Ronny and pulled me into the hedge at his side.