Shute, Nevil (14 page)

‘I understand that. What’s their sextant like?’

‘It’s like a dumb-bell. You hold it vertically in both hands. The top knob is the sextant-fairly normal, just a very good averaging bubble sextant. The middle, the part that you hold, is a sort of composite rubber vibration damper. And the bottom knob has two little electrically driven gyroscopes tucked away in it, simply to help you hold the sextant still. Our people tried it out in the air. You can get your position within half a mile, every time.’

Corbett said: ‘I see what you mean. Southampton’s about four miles long and three miles wide-roughly. With the old type sextant they couldn’t fix their position accurately enough to bomb through the clouds and be sure of hitting the town. Now they can.’

‘That’s right.’

There was a silence, broken only by the subdued chatter of the children playing on the floor.

‘I should have thought you could have got at them while they were bombing, with your single-seaters,’ Corbett said at last. ‘I suppose they’re up above the clouds taking their star-sights, circling round in the clear air?’

The other shook his head. ‘They’re never there. They’re actually in the clouds while they’re bombing.’ He turned to Corbett. ‘I tell you,’ he said, ‘we’re worried sick about this thing. We’re up against an air force that’s magnificently trained-well, that’s no news, of course. What we think they do is this. First, they don’t come in squadrons. They come one by one, at intervals of a minute or so. I’ll tell you why presently. They always choose a rotten, cloudy, rainy night for it-they don’t come on a fine night. They carry a crew of either three or four, two of them navigators, with two of these sextants I was telling you about. They come along just over the top layer of cloud, half in it and half out of it, fixing their position by star-sights as they come. They get it so that they know where they are to within half a mile, at any point of the journey.’

He paused. ‘All the time, they’re only just out of the cloud. When they get within fifteen or twenty miles of the town they take their last sight and go down into the cloud a couple of hundred feet or so, flying blind. In the cloud they go by dead reckoning from their last known position. When they get over the target they just dump their bombs.

‘They’ve got an integrator on the airspeed indicator,’ he said. ‘An air log, that gives them distance run. That’s what they must use for their dead reckoning.’

‘How do they get away?’

‘They just turn round and go home in the cloud, flying blind, far as they like. That’s why they come singly and not in squadrons. There’s less risk of collision in the cloud.’

There was a long pause.

Collins said quietly: ‘It’s the very devil, Corbett. Searchlights are no good, of course, nor antiaircraft guns. The barrage is about as much use as a sick headache. The only thing that has a chance of getting them at all is the single-seaters - us.’ He blew a long, nervous cloud of smoke. ‘We’ve had three raids since the Squadron moved down here, and I’ve been up four times-twice the night before last. I’ve seen them twice, once the first night and once last night. The first time I got in a very long-range burst at him with my forward guns, but he was down into the cloud before I could do any good. Last night I only just got a quick glimpse as he was going in. I didn’t get a shot at all.’

‘What’s going to be done about it?’

‘God knows. As things are, we’re losing more machines than they are every night, just by the normal risks of flying in this filthy weather. We wrote off two machines last night, and three the night before, on this aerodrome alone. Still,’ he said, ‘they were less accurate last night. A good many bombs fell right outside the city. That’s because we’re pushing them back.’

‘What do you mean?

‘Well, they know we’re up there waiting for them, now. Soon as they see us they have to duck down into the cloud. We’re intercepting them farther out each night. That means they have farther to go in the cloud, you see, and then the errors of their dead reckoning come in and spoil the show for them. The one I saw going into the cloud last night must have been nearly over to the far side of the channel, fifty miles away.’

He was silent for a minute. ‘But this bloody weather! It’s simply suicidal. When I think of the night exercises we used to do! Beautiful, fine, clear, starry nights. I never thought we’d have to do our stuff in muck like this.’ Corbett thought about it for a minute. ‘This method of attack is only good for towns, I suppose? I mean, you couldn’t hit an isolated building in this way?’

The flight-lieutenant shook his head. ‘Lord, no! Nor ships, either. You heard what happened at Chatham?’

‘No. What was that?’

‘Last Wednesday. They had a good crack at the ships in the dockyard there, and lost sixteen of their machines. And they didn’t do any good with their bombs either. They won’t try that again in a hurry.’

‘I don’t understand. They didn’t come at night, then?’

‘Just after dawn. It was full daylight. The Archies made a proper mess of them.’

He ground his cigarette out on the ashtray. ‘Accurate bombing on a properly defended target is a back number, ‘he said. ‘I believe we’ve got that pretty well taped. But this blind bombing upon towns-it’s merry hell.’

Corbett laughed shortly. ‘You’re telling me!’

He thought about it for a minute. ‘How many of them come each night?’

‘To Southampton? About forty or fifty machines.’

‘Is that all?’

‘I think so. They drop about a thousand bombs each night, and they’re using hundred-pound bombs. That means forty or fifty machines. But I’m afraid I can’t say that I’ve counted them, old boy.’

‘How many towns do they bomb each night?’

The other shrugged his shoulders. ‘Twenty?’

‘Then they must be using about a thousand machines, all told?’

‘I suppose that’s about it. They must have a lot in reserve. That’s nothing like the full strength of their Air Force.’

‘It’s enough to be going on with,’ said Corbett dryly.

The flight-lieutenant nodded. ‘Plenty.’ He was silent for a minute. ‘We’ve known for years that if ever a war came, they might try this sort of thing,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s trying to break the morale of the people. They won’t do it, of course. The raids don’t do any military good. We go on functioning just as if they weren’t happening -so do the Army and the Navy. In a month or two I believe the country will adjust itself to them.’

‘That may be,’ said Corbett. ‘It’s going to take a bit of doing, though.’

‘It always happens.’

The officer considered for a minute. ‘This new way of bombing-it’s like every new thing that’s been tried out in war-aircraft, gas, tanks-everything. They’re none of them decisive factors, and this won’t be, either. Their only real asset is surprise. All they do is to make war more unpleasant for everybody.’

‘They do that all right.’

‘Yes. But wars are won by men walking on their own flat feet with a rifle and a bayonet. Not this way.’

‘Maybe.’

There was a little silence. ‘Felicity’s staying up at Abingdon, then?’

‘For the present. Our house there is out in the country, and I don’t feel much like bringing her down here. All this disease about, you know-it makes one think.’

Corbett nodded. ‘Have you heard how things are in Southampton today?’

‘You mean the cholera? It’s pretty bad. I was in there yesterday, but last night it was put out of bounds for the troops. Still, that’s a fat lot of good. Half Southampton’s camping out alongside the aerodrome.’

‘You haven’t heard of any cases here?’

‘Not yet. It’s the bloody water that does it, and that’s been all right here so far, touching wood.’

‘It was off one day. What would you do for the troops if it went off altogether?’

‘Start carting water for them in lorries, I suppose.’

‘And what about the people camping out beside the aerodrome? Would you start carting water for them, too?’

There was a silence.

The flight-lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. We’ll cross that ditch when we come to it.’

That evening Joan and Peter discussed the tides. They had spent the afternoon alternately on shore; Joan had taken the children on shore for a walk. By the time the children were in bed, however, the tide had fallen and a wide expanse of mud separated them from the shore, to their annoyance.

‘What we want,’ said Joan, ‘is a nice quay that we could tie up against, so that we could walk on shore.’

Corbett rubbed his chin. ‘You won’t find that here,’ he said. ‘We might move the boat out on to a mooring in the middle of the river tomorrow, if you like.’

She considered this seriously. ‘I believe that would be better. We’d be able to get on shore at any time, then.’

They eyed the entrance to the inn across the wide expanse of mud a little wistfully. ‘It would be nice to be able to get on shore at any time,’ said Joan.

‘Gin and Italian,’ said Peter. ‘I know.’

The evening was clear and fine. All night the aircraft roared over their heads beneath the stars, protecting them; there was no raid. Joan and Peter slept soundly, and awoke refreshed.

It took Corbett, single-handed, the greater part of the next day to move his vessel out on to a mooring in the middle of the river. First the engine, unused since the previous summer, had to be induced to function. Then anchors had to be laid out to warp her out of the mud berth, with a great deal of going backwards and forwards in the dinghy, and laying out and taking in of warps. It was not till four o’clock in the afternoon that she was lying on the mooring, clean and washed down, and with everything stowed away.

Corbett rested on the cabin-top and smoked a cigarette. The glass was falling again and the weather was clouding up for rain.

Joan had been on shore early in the morning, and had got a couple of pints of milk from a farm. In spite of these occasional replenishments, and in spite of having cut the older children off milk altogether, they had made heavy inroads into their stock; only two tins now remained of what they had brought with them from Southampton. ‘We’ll have to do something about this milk business,’ said Joan. ‘It’s getting worse and worse.’

Corbett nodded. ‘There are a lot more people here than when we came. Those two boats over there-they’ve got people in them now. They hadn’t when we came.’

Joan said: ‘I know. The farms just round about here can’t possibly supply all these people. Do you think it would be worth trying for milk in Southampton?’

‘We might get some tins. I’ve been thinking about going in to Southampton one day. I ought to see what’s going on at the office. And there’s the house, too… .’ Joan nodded. ‘I want some things from the house. I left my powder-compact on the dressing-table, like a fool. And there’s a little thing of lipstick there that you might bring along if you’re going.’

That night there was another raid. Again they woke up in the middle of the night to the concussion of the bombs, draped themselves in blankets, and huddled together in the hatchway looking out into the windy darkness. They stayed there for a long time, listening to the explosions and to the fighters taking off and landing on the aerodrome.

It seemed to them that the falling bombs were very much more dispersed. Two salvoes were definitely closer to them than to the city. One set of concussions seemed to come more from the direction of Bursledon than from Southampton, and there seemed to be bombs bursting on the far side of Southampton Water, in the New Forest. ‘They’re getting wilder, I believe,’ said Corbett. ‘That’s a good sign. It fits in with what Collins said.’

Joan shivered. ‘It won’t be worth their while bombing Southampton much longer,’ she said. ‘There won’t be anything left there to bomb.’

Corbett rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘There’s this about it. We don’t want to see them getting too dispersed. I’d rather see them getting a bit nearer the bull than they are tonight. We don’t want to cop an outer, here.’

They stood there staring out over the dark water to the shore, the aircraft passing and re-passing over their heads. Once there was a thudding noise from the direction of the aerodrome and a red glow appeared above the trees, that quickly grew.

‘Peter!’ cried Joan. ‘What’s that?’

They watched it, tense and motionless. It grew to a great ruddy blaze in a few seconds, with showers of red sparks whirling up above the trees. Then it began to die away as quickly as it had appeared; within a very short time it was black night again.

They relaxed. ‘It was a fire of some sort,’ Corbett said. He hesitated.

‘Peter. Do you think it was an aeroplane?’

‘It looked very like it.’ He passed his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come back to bed. We can’t do anything to help.’

Her lips were trembling. ‘This beastly war , . .’

He helped her back to bed and tucked her up. They lay awake for a long time, listening to the bursting of the bombs in the dark night. Presently the raid came to an end, and they slept.

Next morning it was raining heavily. Corbett had breakfast; then Joan rowed him on shore to the car to go into Southampton.

He had left the car parked in the open. Trying to start it, he discovered that the tank was empty; the drain-plug and the washer were placed neatly on the running-board. Petrol in Hamble was at a premium. He replaced the drain-plug angrily and went back on board to fetch a can out of his store, returned to the car, filled it into his tank, and got going on the road to Southampton.

The road past the aerodrome was choked with Air Force lorries and tank wagons. The continual forced stops in the traffic gave him a measure of time to look about him; the whole countryside seemed to be littered with people camping out. Wherever a hedge-corner made a shelter from the wind among the fields, a car had been parked as the basis of a settlement; in some instances a tent had been put up as well. Most of these temporary camps were littered and amateurish, with a touch of squalor. The people looked pinched and unhealthy in the streaming rain. Over the fields towards the disused reservoir the cars were thick; there seemed to be a great number of people camping out among the trees around the water.