Authors: Gilbert Morris
The Spitfire and the Hurricane were the mainstays of the
RAF fighter squadrons. The Hurricane had been in service longer; almost half of England’s sixty-one fighter squadrons were equipped with them, while only twenty of them had Spitfires. The Hurricane’s top speed was 325 miles an hour, 30 miles per hour slower than the Messerschmitt, but it had a superior range and was more heavily armored than the Spitfire. The Spitfire owed its speed to the Rolls Royce engine, which gave it incredible horsepower and was the most maneuverable fighter plane in the air. On the other side of the Channel, Germans were flying the ME-109, a remarkable aircraft that was improved by two 20-millimeter cannons mounted on the wing’s leading edges.
And so the adversaries waited, poised for the titanic struggle that was inevitable in the skies over England and the Channel.
****
Parker took off with Brodie Lee right behind him. After they had climbed to ten thousand feet and gone onto oxygen, Parker said, “All right, Blue Three. I want you to follow me as close as you can. Where I go, you go. You keep me covered.”
“Sure. No problem, Boss.”
“The answer is
No problem, Red Leader.
”
“Right. Red Leader.”
Parker immediately banked and sent his Spitfire into a sharp turn. He saw that Lee had followed him easily, so he began to use more complicated maneuvers. He threw the plane into tight turns, steep climbs, every maneuver he could think of, but no matter what he did, Lee was right there beside him. “Very good, Blue Three.”
“Glad you like it, Red Leader.”
“Now, you try to lose me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Immediately Lee’s plane went into a series of maneuvers. Parker was hard put to follow them, and finally he took his eye off of the Spitfire for one moment. He lost sight of the
plane in a thin, wispy cloud. When he emerged into the open sky, he searched ahead of him . . . no Brodie.
“Hi there, Red Leader.”
Startled, Parker looked up into his mirror and there was Brodie Lee right behind him. Brodie waved cheerfully, and Parker felt like a fool. “All right. That’s enough, Blue Three. We’ll head back to the base.”
As soon as they landed on the airfield in the Kent countryside, Parker walked up to Brodie and said, “You’re ready for combat, Brodie.”
“You mean now?”
“No, not now,” Parker said with a grin. “The next time we scramble. That was a good exercise up there. Remember, always protect your flight leader.”
“Who’s going to protect me?”
“I didn’t think you needed any protecting. Not the great Brodie Lee.” Parker clapped him on the shoulder.
The two men walked toward the building, where Brodie joined a card game that was in progress. Parker was stopped by Bernard Cox in the hallway. “Can he do the job, do you think?”
“He’s a first-class pilot. Lots of experience.”
“That’s good. I’d hate to have an amateur up there with us,” the Blue leader commented. “From what I can pick up, we can expect some fun pretty soon. I’ve heard the Germans have been bombing some ships out in the Channel.”
“I expect they’ll try to draw us up, but I’m not excited about protecting ships. Most of them are empty—”
A voice broke in with, “Attention, 120 Squadron. Scramble!”
“That’s us. I’ll find out what it is,” Parker said. He was still in his flight suit, and he was intercepted by an officer who said, “They’re bombing more ships in the Channel. Here’s the position.”
Parker grabbed the paper and ran out onto the field. He was glad to see that the entire squadron was already climbing
into their planes, and he demanded, “Did you get the plane fueled, Denny?”
“Yes, sir. She’s full. You think it’s the real thing this time?”
“I think it may be.”
“Get some of them dirty krauts for me, sir.”
“Do my best.”
The squadron took off and immediately arranged themselves into four groups of three each, each group in a
V
formation with the leader in front. They were identified as yellow, green, blue, and red. They flashed over the Channel, and five minutes later Parker saw planes ahead.
“Keep your eyes open, men. There they are. Take the bombers first if you can and ignore the fighters.”
Parker nodded as he saw the German Stukas attacking the ships below. “This is Red Leader. We’ll take those bombers over to the left waiting to go in.” They had climbed high and were now overhead. “All right. Here we go. Tally ho!”
The squadron went in full force and were spotted almost at once by a 109. Ignoring them as best they could, they plowed ahead, aiming for the bombers.
They were attacked on their way in by at least twenty 109s, and a fierce dogfight began. Two of the Stukas went down in smoke, but Sailor Darley saw one of the Spits going down as well. He could not tell who it was. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Bernie Cox was there, but he could not see Lee. “Where are you, Blue Three?”
He got no answer, then suddenly saw holes appear in his wing and threw himself over. His Spit would not maneuver—his controls had been hit. He desperately tried to shake off the new Messerschmitts and managed to avoid more direct hits, but the faster 109 was zeroing in on him. Suddenly, as he went into a turn, he saw a Spitfire coming from out of nowhere. The plane got so close to the German flying straight at him, guns blazing, that Sailor shouted, “Watch it, Cowboy.”
But Brodie plunged straight ahead. Sailor saw the tracers enter into the nose of the 109s and dance along the fuselage
before the canopy was smashed. He knew the pilot was killed instantly.
“You got him!” Sailor cried. He watched as Cowboy pulled up close, waved at him, and then plunged back into the melee.
“He may be a show-off, but he’s a killer,” Sailor muttered to himself.
When the squadron landed, several of the planes were damaged but none critically. Jimmy Fitzwilliam, the smallest and youngest pilot in the squadron, had been shot down, but he had been fished out of the Channel and was safe. As the pilots gathered in the report room, they were excited.
“Cowboy, I was glad to see you out there,” Sailor said. “Congratulations on your first kill. Not many pilots get a kill on their first mission.”
Brodie shrugged his shoulders. “Should have gotten another one, but they’re slippery devils, aren’t they?”
Parker spoke to the pilots after they had given their reports. “I’m very pleased with your work. We’ve got a fine squadron here. Everyone looked out for his wingman, and we shot down four of their bombers and two of their fighters with the loss of only one plane.”
He went on praising them, and after the meeting broke up, he pulled Brodie aside. “Congratulations. Sailor tells me you saved his life.”
“Don’t know about that. I should have gotten more than just one, though.”
“I’m very happy you got the one.”
“Well, I aim to be a hero, and it’s a pretty slow start. But you just watch my smoke. When do you reckon we’ll scramble again?”
Parker could not help but laugh. “At least give us time to get our planes patched up and refueled. But you did fine. I’m very happy with your work.”
****
Kat and Meredith both had Monday off, since they had
worked on Sunday. They were spending the day catching up on some reading. Kat scrambled for the phone when it rang Monday afternoon.
After a brief greeting, Grace Braden said, “The twins will be turning three on Wednesday, and I was hoping you could come to their party. Paul and Heather keep asking about you. You made quite an impression on them.”
“Why, yes, Lady Braden, I’d love to come.” She didn’t mention that Parker had already invited her.
“It’ll be a very small gathering. Parker says he doesn’t think he can get the time off. My husband has been down with the flu or some such thing, so I don’t know if he’ll be up to joining us either.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help with the party preparations?”
“Oh, that would be lovely! I’ll send the car for you—say, one o’clock on Wednesday?”
“Yes, that would be fine. I’ll be in front of the mission.”
Kat hung up the phone and turned to face Meredith. “Well, I’m going to a birthday party for Parker’s twins. I’ve got to go get them something. What do you get for a three-year-old?”
“I have no idea. But something indestructible, I would think.”
“I’d better go shopping right now. I won’t have time tomorrow.”
Kat left, and thirty minutes later Meredith got up from her chair to answer the door. When Meredith saw Brodie Lee, she said, “Kat’s not here.”
“Do you mind if I wait for her?”
“She may be gone quite a while. It’s probably not a good idea.”
Brodie frowned for a moment, then said, “Well then, maybe you could show me the sights.”
“I’m not about to go out with you!”
“You’re not? I can’t think why.”
“You are totally self-centered, that’s why!”
“Oh, come on. Be a good sport.”
“You’re Kat’s boyfriend, not mine.”
“I wish you’d tell her that! Anyway, I’m not gonna ask you to marry me or anythin’. Just keep me company.”
Suddenly Meredith, who had disliked Brodie from the very start, found herself smiling. “You’re such a scoundrel.”
“Who, me? I’ll be on my best behavior.”
****
“. . . and so that’s what it was like over in Spain.”
“It sounds terrible.”
“It wasn’t much fun,” Brodie said with a shrug. The two of them were sitting in a little eatery near Meredith’s flat enjoying their dessert of gooseberry cobbler with vanilla custard. She had been quiet at first, and he had begun to tell her of some of his experiences. She had become interested, and finally he grinned and said, “That’s enough about me. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How come you’re not married?”
“I was married.”
Brodie had been lifting his cup of tea, but he stopped abruptly. “You’re married?”
“I said I
was
married.”
“You’re divorced, then?”
“No. My husband was killed in action in northern Africa.”
Brodie set the cup down and laced his fingers together and stared at them. When he looked up there was a different expression in his eyes. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Not your fault.”
“Has it been pretty hard?”
“Yes.”
Brodie felt a wall of resistance from the young woman, but despite her rather brusque manner, he admired her. She had a wealth of beautiful auburn hair and large green eyes. He knew she was Welsh, and as he studied her, he tried to
think of some way to express his feelings. “I’m right sorry about your husband.”
“Well, I’ve learned not to take any more chances.”
“What kind of chances?”
“I’m not going to get tied up with anyone ever again.”
He turned his head to one side and studied her. “You gonna live in a cave, go to a deserted island?”
Meredith lifted her head, her eyes sharp and alert. “I’m just not going to allow myself to get too close to anyone. It doesn’t pay. Especially not during a war.”
Brodie continued to sip his tea, but he was aware of her charms. She was not tall but was shapely in a way that would appeal to any man. She even looked good in the simple cotton dress she wore. “Let’s you and me go see a movie or something tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I have a previous engagement.”
“Well, maybe I’ll go along with you.”
A small dimple appeared at the corner of Meredith’s mouth, and a glimmer of light danced in her eyes. She lifted one shoulder and a hint of a smile touched her lips. “All right,” she said. “I’ll see how dependable you Americans are. You can come with me if you promise to stay with me. You won’t run out on me?”
“Scout’s honor. Come on, lady, lead on.”
****
“This is a pretty rough part of town,” Brodie noted as they passed a number of tough-looking men loitering about who gave them rather calculating looks. “You wouldn’t come down here by yourself, would you?”
“Yes, I have,” Meredith said casually.
Brodie was curious. “Where are you taking me?”
“Right over there.”
She pointed toward four men and two women standing on a street corner with musical instruments. “I don’t see anything but that Salvation Army bunch.”
“That’s it.”
He missed a step. “What do you mean, ‘That’s it’?” he demanded.
“I sometimes come down and help the Salvation Army with their work.”
Brodie Lee suddenly felt uncomfortable, but he had promised Meredith he would stay with her. When they were a few yards from the band, she looked at him oddly.
“Aren’t you going to run away?”
“Merry, I’ve never run away from anything in my life!”
A light of approval swept across her face and she continued toward the band, where she greeted a tall, gangling man wearing a threadbare black uniform.
“Good evening, Miss Meredith. It’s good to see you. Who’s this with you?”
“This is a new addition to our band. May I introduce Brodie Lee. Brodie, this is Harry Jenkins.”
“I’m pleased to meet you. What instrument do you play?”
“I’m sorry,” Brodie said quickly. “I can’t play a thing.”
“Yes you can. You can play the bass drum.” Meredith’s eyes were sparkling as she turned to a small man with a bass drum strapped to his chest. “Charlie, let Brodie have your drum. That’ll free you up to play the trombone.”
“Right you are, miss.”
“But I can’t play a drum,” Brodie protested.
“All you have to do is pound out a rhythm with a big mallet,” Meredith said. “Here, let me help you put the drum on.”
Brodie wanted to run, but Meredith had already taken the instrument from Charlie and was standing in front of Brodie with it. He suddenly laughed. “All right.” He slipped his arms into the straps and tried to get comfortable with the big drum sticking out in front of him. Meredith handed him the mallet and he tapped at the drum tentatively.
She took her flute case out of the canvas bag she had been carrying. After taking a moment to tune up, she said, “We’re ready, Harry.”
****
Meredith turned to Brodie outside her apartment building. She was still amused at his enthusiastic banging of the drum. He actually had a good sense of rhythm, and after a time, the leader had asked him not to hit it so loudly. Brodie had even stayed for the street-side sermon, where they had received the typical reaction from the passersby—some positive and some negative.