1916 Angels over the Somme (British Ace Book 3) (17 page)

I downed the water in one and began to dress.  I had a bad feeling about all of this. By the time I was dressed I could hear the sound of a Gunbus taking off and there were shouts too. What on earth was going on?

I was the first one out of the officers’ quarters.  I ran directly towards the parked aeroplanes.  Sergeant Gillespie was the duty sergeant. “Sorry sir.  It was Mr Carstairs and his gunner.  They said they had permission to take off and the lad,” he glared at a young private, “let him.”

“It is not your fault, either of you. You,” I pointed to the private, “go and wake Sergeant Hutton tell him I need him.”

“Sir!” He raced off, happy to be away from the sergeant’s baleful stare.

“Sergeant, get my bus turned around.”

“You’re going after him sir?”

“If I don’t we will be one pilot short in the morning.”

I ran back to my quarters and grabbed my flying helmet and flying coat.  It was cold at four a.m.

By the time I reached the FE 2 it had been turned around and there was a gaggle of officers there, Gordy and Archie included.  I smiled when I saw that they were all in their robes. I saw Hutton rushing to me, hurriedly dressing.

“Who was it, Bill?”

I looked at Gordy, “It was Carstairs.  I should have known from the way he was going on about honour.”

“He’s in my flight, Bill. I’ll go.”

I shook my head, “By the time you and your gunner are dressed he will be dead meat.  Every second I waste talking to you means that your young pilot has less time to live.” I hated being so brutal to my friend but time was wasting.

“Hutton, get her started.”

I clambered aboard and heard, “Contact!”

“Contact!” Despite the early morning cold the Rolls Royce Engine started first time.

As we soared into the dark I heard Hutton say, “A bit bloody parky at this time of the day!”

“Thank you for this Lumpy.  I just don’t want Mr Carstairs to do anything stupid.”

“That’s not a problem, Captain Harsker. The young have a habit of making mistakes.” There was a pause.  “Did I hear right, there was a challenge from some Hun?”

“Aye, some spike headed stiff necked German with more schooling than sense!”

He laughed, “Where are we heading then sir?”

“Delville Wood.”

I wondered if the woods were cursed or something. We were certainly being drawn to them. I saw dawn break on the horizon.  Below me I heard the bugles as reveille was called in the trenches.  We were passing the front lines.  I wondered what they thought was happening above them. I was trying to get every ounce I could out of the bus but she was not the fastest aeroplane on the front.

“Better arm your gun, Hutton, we shall have to get in and out quickly.”

“Righto sir.”

I armed mine at the same time and I also checked my Luger. I could not let Carstairs down. He was doing this for me.  I knew I had not asked him to but he had a distorted sense of right and wrong.  When I got him back I would sit him down and give him a serious talking to.

When Germans began to fire at us I knew that we were over their lines and then I heard the chatter of the Spandau followed by the double chatter of the two Lewis guns.  I was too late.  They had met.  I had counted on the German being late.  I should have known that the Teutonic need for efficiency would have brought him there early.

They could just be seen twisting and turning in the brightening sky. In theory, the two guns of the Gunbus should have given Carstairs the edge but the faster Fokker and the experience of the German would more than make up for that.

“Come on Caesar, a little bit more please!”

It might have been my imagination but I felt the aeroplane move a little faster.  The two fighters, seemingly intertwined, now seemed to be just a mile or so away. Carstairs was doing his best but he was wasting bullets. He was firing when he should have allowed his gunner to do so. He could have side slipped out of the German’s sight but he seemed intent on making the hit himself.

Suddenly I saw the Gunbus judder.  We were closing rapidly and I saw the gunner slump in the front cockpit. The German then did the Immelmann Turn.  Carstairs had never seen it. He would be confused.  He had no rear gunner and was on his own. I had to watch helpless as Oberlieutenant Kirmaier dropped down to the rear of the Gunbus and emptied a magazine at the engine.  The Rolls Royce is a fine engine but it was demolished by the steel jacketed parabellums.  It went into a vertical dive and smashed into the ground.  The only saving grace was that Carstairs would have felt nothing. He had his noble death!

“Right Lumpy, let’s get this bastard!”

“I’m with you, sir!”

The German had not seen us and began to head east.  I was not thinking about honour and fair play.  I was going to shoot this arrogant German aristocrat; even if we were shot down.  I owed that to a young man who might have become a great pilot.

I climbed to get above him.  He had superior speed and appeared to be getting away from us.  I just needed patience. When I reached eight thousand feet I put the stick down.  We began to pick up speed and gained on him.

“Sir, I don’t want to worry you but I see a German airfield ahead.”

“What’s the matter Hutton?  Do you want to live forever?”

“No sir, but my mum has promised me socks for my next birthday!”

We were now less than five hundred feet behind him and I dipped the nose a little more. He was slowing, preparing for a landing. Suddenly he was less than a hundred feet ahead.

“Now sir?”

“Now Lumpy!”

The chatter of the Lewis shredded his tail. I saw him look around in horror.  He could not move left or right as he had no rudder and he showed what a good pilot he was by trying to climb. Hutton kept on firing and then shouted, “Jam!”

I side slipped and anticipated his next move which was a dive.  My bullets hit his undercarriage and then he flew the engine into the line of .303 bullets.  I saw the propeller stop.  I raised the nose and emptied the magazine.  I saw the bullets strike him but the magazine ran out before he was dead. We were overtaking him and I drew my Luger. Drawing level I looked directly at him and aimed the Luger.  I began to fire. My first bullet struck his shoulder and he fell forward.  The Fokker began an even steeper dive.

Suddenly the air was filled with lead as the Germans fired at us. “Sir, he is finished, can we go home now?”

I felt weary, “Yes Lumpy.” A thought struck me. “Any grenades?”

“Always!”

“Then let us leave them a little present.”

I changed my magazine and banked.  We had been heading east. As we zoomed down the airfield I fired at the line of Fokkers and Halberstadts.  I saw the two steel eggs get thrown over the side and then Hutton fired his Lewis. I heard the crump as the grenades went off and, as we soared west I glanced over and saw that we had hit four aeroplanes and there were soldiers gathered around the men we had hit. Carstairs had been avenged.

It was a glorious dawn which broke behind us but I was not in a celebratory mood. I felt that I had failed young Jamie. I had started to understand him but the German intervention had sent him on this self destructive course.

I heard Hutton’s voice in my ear. “Sir, we have company.” He held up his mirror.  I could see four or five biplanes pursuing us. I checked my fuel gauge. I had just enough fuel to reach home.  If I had flown more conservatively on my way east I might have had a reserve.

“We can’t climb.  Let’s see how low we can go.”

“Righto, sir.  I’ll see if I can collect some eggs on the way back!”

I smiled.  Hutton was irrepressible. The sound of his voice always cheered me up.

I dipped the nose just as we came over the German trenches.  They were standing to but we took them by surprise.  I suspect they thought that we were one of their own.  They just stared as we zoomed across their lines. Hutton kept the mirror held out so that he could follow the enemy’s progress.  We went slower when he stood on the rear Lewis and he knew, as well as any, that we needed to gain speed and conserve fuel.

“Here they come, sir.”

I saw him struggling to turn around and man the rear Lewis.  The leading German fired a few bullets just to get the range. As he did so the ground in front of us erupted in small arms fire as the Tommies fired at the Fokkers trying to catch us.  As Sergeant Hutton cocked the Lewis he shouted, “Good lad!” He looked at me.  “They have hit one and the others are heading home.”

We were so low that I could see the faces and waving arms of the South Africans.  I waggled my wings and waved at them.  Hutton was waving as though he was George the Fifth at a royal parade. As we touched down we were almost flying on fumes but we were alive and we were back.

There was no question of my leading a patrol that day. My Gunbus needed attention.  Senior Flight Sergeant McKay gave me a shake of his head as he walked around the bullet ridden front. “One of these days Captain Harsker, there will be too many holes in you never mind yon aeroplane.”

Archie and Gordy strode over to me. The fact that we had returned alone spoke volumes. Gordy cocked his head to one side. I shook mine, “He did his best but he was outfoxed.  That was a good pilot he was facing.”

“Did you get him?”

“I chased him back to his lines and shot him down but I don’t know if I killed the bastard.  It was the one with the red zig zag stripe running down the side.”

“You found their airfield then?”

“Yes sir. It looks, from the number of aeroplanes, as though there are two squadrons there. Hutton damaged a couple with Mills bombs and the Tommies shot down one that was chasing us home.”

“Right.  We will strike while the iron is hot.” He shouted, “Sergeant Richardson, I want all of the aeroplanes fitting with bombs.”

“You will need me to lead you there sir.”

“Are you sure? You have no aeroplane.”

I pointed to the Avro we used for training; it was regularly serviced and the sergeants who wanted to be pilots had lessons in it. Charlie Sharp had been the last one to do so but I knew it was a good, if slow and ponderous, aeroplane. “So long as you don’t mind going there slowly I think I can lead you.”

“Good show.  Get yourselves something to eat.  It will take time to arm the Gunbuses.”

“Sergeant Hutton, get some food.  We are going up in the Avro.  You better rig a Lewis up when you have eaten.”

“Right sir.”

I was alone in the Officer’s Mess.  Bates rushed along. “Captain Harsker.  It doesn’t do to go flying on an empty stomach.” He wagged an admonishing finger at me. Turning around he saw the orderlies cleaning up.  “I’ll get you something.” He pointed to one of them.  “You, whatever your name is, get the Captain a cup of tea, two sugars and milk in second.  Chop, chop!”

The surprised orderly nodded and raced off. “You can’t get the staff you know. Now you sit here and I won’t be two ticks!”

I lit my pipe as I waited. The two German squadrons would be going nowhere.  The crashed and damaged Fokkers meant they would have an airfield to clear.  I had plenty of time for a late breakfast.

The orderly brought my tea and said, sotto voce, “He’s a bit of a whirlwind is your Mr Bates, sir.  Even Sergeant Cole is polite to him.”

“Yes he is a force of nature.  I am glad he is on our side.”

Bates did not suffer fools gladly.  The tea was just as I liked it and all the more welcome for my having waited for it. I was on my second cup when the miraculous Mr Bates arrived with a tray.  He deposited a plate with a mountain of food: ham, three eggs, Cumberland sausage, Black Pudding and devilled kidneys.  He then placed another plate with a mountain of toast. “I’ll go and get the butter.  What would you prefer Captain; marmalade or jam?”

To be honest I normally took the nearest, “Er, marmalade.”

“Right sir.” He reappeared and flourished the butter and the marmalade.  “I shall have to get some decent marmalade, sir.  This has barely any peel in it.  It is more like an orange jam.” He stood back.  “Enjoy sir and I will lay out a fresh uniform for you.”

I paused with a forkful of Cumberland sausage and ham. “That won’t be necessary, Bates, Sergeant Hutton and I are going up again after this.”

He shook his head, “Dear me, sir.  You are put upon are you not?” He toddled off shaking his head. It is funny but Bates and Hutton between them induced a state of equilibrium in me. I felt refreshed already and I realised that I had put the death of Carstairs to the back of my mind.

It was some time since I had flown the Avro. It felt strange to be in an aeroplane with a propeller in front of me. The riggers had put the Lewis so that, by leaning, Hutton could fire to the front, the rear and to the right. It was more restricted than the Gunbus but I hoped we would not be needed to fight.

McKay had a mechanic to turn the propeller. The engine sounded noisier and less smooth than the Rolls Royce but it was a good aeroplane.  I waited until Archie waved and then we rolled down the airfield. It felt nose heavy as I pulled back on the yoke.  I began to climb.  It seemed to take forever but at least the Avro had a greater ceiling.  If we had to we could climb above the Fokkers.