Gunner Girls and Fighter Boys (55 page)

‘Private Donnelly’s sick, ma’am.’

A look passed between the CO and the sergeant. ‘All right, Lloyd, get back to her and we’ll send a first aider out.’

That night the sergeant got her way and they were squeezed below deck, with cold rations and no hope of sleep. For the first time since she’d left Southampton, May began to wish she was sorting letters in a warm depot in Nottingham.

When morning came, they emerged still damp so that May felt as wrung out and stiff as a shirt put through the mangle on washing day. The wharfside was a running stream. Lorries sloshed through it to take them through town to their billets. Though the town was hazy with pounding rain, a bright red building that looked like a temple caught May’s eye. As the lorry jolted through muddy ruts, she wiped steam from the window and gasped. She’d seen that building before. But where? Then she remembered. A few months before Bill went missing she’d received a parcel, with some tiny, poor-quality snaps. And on the back of one Bill had written:
Me and my pal Bert outside the railway station
. He’d been dressed in bush hat and tropical uniform, lean, serious-looking and squinting into the sun. Of course, there must be a million buildings like it in India, but she called down to where the sergeant sat, ‘Sarge, do you know what building that is?’

‘I think it’s the railway station, Lloyd. Why, you thinking of going on a trip?’

The other girls laughed, and the suffering Donnelly chimed in, ‘Yeah, I’ll join you, all the way to Liverpool Lime Street, eh?’

‘Is there an airbase here, Sarge?’ May asked, ignoring their laughter.

‘Oh yes, quite a big one, you’ll find Chittagong full of airmen, RAF and Commonwealth, Yanks too. They go on raids over the border into Burma all the time, and they’re making airdrops for our troops, of course.’

At home, with the war in Europe over, it had been hard to imagine the war still going on out here, but now May realized just how close she had come to the fighting. Their lectures on the troopship had made it clear that although the allies had been pushing the Japs back from the north of Burma all the way to Rangoon, the Indian border lands were still full of pockets of resistant Japanese troops. The war was certainly not ended, over here, and her job in communications would partly be to relay reports and orders to and from the ever-changing front line as the army tried to mop up the intransigent enemy forces.

*

It was stupid to go in the monsoon. Even though the old hands assured her that the rains would soon end, May couldn’t wait. She had to get out. She was fed up of being stuck either in the thundering drum of their tin-roofed billet, or the steamy depths of the wireless room. So when a group of girls suggested a trip into town, May jumped at the chance.

‘I think a trip to the flicks’ll do you the world of good, want to come with us?’ she said to Sadie Donnelly, the young private who’d been ill on the steamer. After leaving the sick bay she’d attached herself to May. It felt odd to be the experienced one, but May had happily taken her under her wing. Sadie confessed that she’d signed up well under age, fearing that the war would be over before she could see any of the excitement. She’d got her wish and hadn’t been in the ATS for more than a few months before she’d landed an overseas posting. She was even more homesick, if it were possible, than May had been in her early days at Pontefract.

After being virtually confined to camp for two months, a trip into town was like a holiday. But it wasn’t just that she needed a change. May wanted to see more of this town, which she was sure Bill had been in, just to reassure herself that she’d not been imagining things. They went in on an army lorry and were dropped by the station in the afternoon, with orders to be back there for pickup before sunset. The town was like a swirling watercolour and immediately she recognized the same gaudily painted, hooded rickshaws that Bill had described, being pedalled around the flooded streets. At the station they were inundated with gharry and rickshaw drivers clamouring for trade.

‘Shall we get one to the cinema?’ May suggested and she and Sadie hopped aboard the nearest rickshaw. On the way she spotted other things she recognized from Bill’s descriptions: the temple with its gilded rooftops, the children begging beside the road, the street traders carrying impossibly heavy loads on baskets slung on poles over their shoulders, the short-horned skinny cattle wandering along the middle of the road – it was all as he’d described it. And now she remembered seeing the sickle-shaped, sharp-prowed fishing boats lined up in the harbour when they’d first come into port, and how Bill had marvelled at the boatmen’s skill in standing up to row the slender craft. As the rain beat upon the domed hood of the rickshaw, May looked out on a world that was totally alien and yet felt strangely familiar. It was odd to think that her connection with Bill had brought her to India a long time before she had actually set foot upon its shores, and she thought of their pact to meet every night in the fairy ring of Hainault Forest, a place where time zones and distance had no meaning.

Bill’s description of the fleapit had, unfortunately, been as accurate as the rest of his accounts of the town. It was steaming, so much so that the condensation hanging in the air threatened to obscure the screen. The seats were sticky, the air thick with the food being cooked at the back of the cinema. They saw an odd film, which featured about as much rain as still pummelled the roof of the cinema. It was called
I Know Where I’m Going
, the story of a plucky young woman who travels to the Outer Hebrides to marry one man and ends up with another. Almost from the opening scene rain was falling in sheets, and the heroine, lashed by stormy weather, spent half the film in a sou’wester. It was a very watery film, which Sadie said she didn’t quite get. But May had to admire the young heroine for sticking to her guns – at least for most of the film.

Emerging from the cinema, they sheltered in a doorway, deciding where to go next. They were about to make a dash for a café across the busy street when May bumped into a serviceman. He had his cap pulled down and his head ducked against the rain. They rebounded off each other before he lifted his chin. She knew him immediately, even after all this time.

‘May! Strike me, it’s May!’ His face broke into a broad grin. ‘Fancy meeting you here of all places, May, it’s a miracle!’

May was conscious that her mouth was open, wide enough to catch raindrops. Bumping into Doug hardly seemed a miracle. It felt to May more like an unhappy accident.

August–November 1945

Doug insisted they go for tea at the café together and May was glad of Sadie’s presence. The young Canadian seemed to have forgotten the circumstances of their last meeting. He told her he was based at Chittagong airfield and was full of tales of his piloting exploits. He’d only just returned from a sortie across the border into Burma.

‘I’m flying heavy fighters now – Thunderbolts, mostly strafing railway lines or Jap columns, but last trip out I was picking up casualties. It’s tough going for the boys, fighting every inch of the way, and the poor guys that get injured have to rely on being lifted out. But tell me about your war, May.’

He dropped his gaze, as if he’d all at once remembered who he was talking to, and then May knew he hadn’t forgotten what had happened that night at the dance when Bill had intervened.

‘I’ve been a gunner girl for all of the war, on the predictor, made Corporal. Our battery chalked up the most direct hits in the south-east, even managed to get quite a few doodlebugs.’

Doug raised his eyes, impressed. ‘Young May, who’d have thought it! So what brings you out here? Couldn’t you have stayed home now it’s over in Europe?’

He sounded genuinely interested, so May told him.

Doug whistled. ‘Sounds like you’ve had a hard war. I’m sorry about your dad. Your poor mother must be heartbroken. I remember she made lovely little cakes… fairy cakes, she called them.’

May had to smile. ‘Bill loved those too.’

‘So your fiancé, Bill, is that the chap who…’ Doug’s freckled skin could not hide his blushes, and he glanced at Sadie.

‘Yes,’ May answered hastily. ‘My knight in shining armour.’

The barb was not lost on Doug.

‘Look, I never got a chance to say I was sorry about that… I was so ashamed of myself, I couldn’t even say goodbye properly. I’ve been kicking myself ever since if I’m honest.’

Sadie looked awkwardly at May. ‘I’ll just pop out and see if the rain’s stopped, shall I?’

Doug laughed. ‘You’ll be lucky. It’s the damn monsoon – it never stops till it stops!’

Doug was obviously risking his life every day and if this was the last conversation May ever had with him, then she didn’t want to let him go away unforgiven. So in spite of Sadie’s presence she said, ‘Doug, we’ve all done things we’re ashamed of. It’s all water under the bridge.’

At that moment a passing lorry piled high with caged chickens splashed a huge wave of rainwater against the café windows… and they laughed.

‘All right, water under the bridge it is!’ Doug said.

Before they went their separate ways May asked Doug if he could find out anything about Bill. ‘I’m sure he was based here before he went missing. But the RAF’s not told his mum and dad a thing about what happened. It’s left us all up in the air… we just want to know.’

He seemed to hesitate. ‘You shouldn’t get your hopes up, May. The Japs are ruthless and anyone who goes missing in the jungle, well…’

May felt his words like a blow to the stomach and took in a gulping breath, before pulling herself upright. ‘I
will
keep my hopes up, Doug – and not you, nor anyone else, will convince me to do any different!’

He chuckled. ‘Same old May. What was the name of that film you just saw?
I Know Where I’m Going
? You always did, May.’ He put his pilot’s cap back on. ‘I’ll ask around at the base. Be seeing you.’

And before she had a chance to pull away, he bent to kiss her cheek, and so that she couldn’t object, he kissed Sadie too.

When he’d gone the young girl widened her eyes. ‘Oohh, he’s a right charmer. You’re a dark horse, May. Two fellers on the go?’

May shook her head; she didn’t feel like explaining. ‘Come on, let’s make a dash for it or we’ll be late for the pickup.’

She ran out into the rain-washed street, and was soaked to the skin in the few seconds it took for another eager rickshaw driver to pull up and hand them into its hooded shelter.

*

In the week that followed May put her meeting with Doug to the back of her mind. But he had obviously not forgotten her, for he tracked her down to her billet. He was waiting beneath the corrugated iron porch that jutted out from the hut. Opening up a large umbrella, he walked towards her, smiling, and May felt oddly guilty, almost as if she were being unfaithful to Bill.

‘Fancy a trip over to the airbase – we’ve got a good servicemen’s club, we could have a bite to eat?’ he asked as he held the umbrella over the two of them.

‘I don’t think so, Doug.’

‘Well, I’ve got news. And if you want to hear it, you’ll have to come for lunch. Deal?’ He tipped his head to one side in a gesture she knew he thought was charming. But she wanted to hear his news.

‘All right then. Wait while I change into something a bit dryer.’

She put on a clean skirt and blouse, then sheltering awkwardly beneath Doug’s umbrella, they made their way to the taxi rank. They rode in a rickety three-wheeled taxi and the driver seemed to have no notion of where the brakes were. May decided she much preferred the slower pace of the rickshaws. She tried to prise the news from Doug on the way, but he refused to give her a hint of it until they were seated in the servicemen’s club with beers and a lunch far superior to anything she could get at her army base.

‘Come on then, tell me. What’s this news?’ she asked impatiently. ‘What did you find out?’

He half stood, peering above the heads of the other diners. ‘Ah, here he comes.’

‘Who?’

‘Someone who knows something about your chap.’

She held her breath, putting her beer glass carefully on the table, steadying her voice as she said hello to the young aircraftman who sat down at their table. He’d brought a mug of tea with him.

‘This is Colin, he’s ground crew. Tell her what you know, Col.’

The young man smiled warmly. ‘It’s like we’ve already met, May. Bill had a photo of you, above his bunk…’

‘You knew Bill!’ A surge of hope rippled through May as she leaned across the table, hanging on to Colin’s every word.

‘Oh yes, we were mates. I’m a gunner armourer too – we worked together in the same fighter squadron. He was a good bloke, decent, you know. And he thought the world of you, May, but I expect you know that.’

She did know it, but to hear it from a stranger made her feel strangely close to Bill, almost as if she were seeing him through a secret window. If only she could call through the window, get him to turn round, come out and find her… but Colin was talking now about the time Bill went missing.

‘Well, there were a few nasty skirmishes over the border round about that time. Me and Bill, we were in a contingent of ground crew, sent over into Burma to set up a temporary airfield. We’d cleared the strip and were getting things operational when a troop of Japs made a lightning raid. Came out of the jungle, yelling bloody banzai, bayonets fixed.’ He shivered. ‘Enough to curdle your blood it is, when they come at you.’

Colin seemed to be talking in slow motion, for everything in the background – people seated at tables, eating, drinking, walking in and out – all melted into a swift blur, their chatter receding, and she listened as intently as when the orders were coming through on the wireless headphones. Only aware of Colin’s voice, she waited for him to go on.

‘It was a matter of minutes. They overran the whole airstrip, killed as many ground crew and pilots as they could. We had no warning, you see, no defences. It was slaughter.’

‘Oh, Colin!’ Cold fear grabbed at her heart and she dug her nails into her palms. ‘But not everyone. They didn’t kill you all... you got out! What about Bill?’