JET LAG! (13 page)

1 July 1940

              Todd Morrissey looked out to the left of his aircraft. There were thirteen aircraft nicely lined up along the hard-standing. Each aircraft was surrounded by armed soldiers and had shut their engines down. Only Todd’s aircraft was still running the APU. The C-130 Hercules was the only aircraft still to land and Todd could see its landing lights at approximately three miles finals.

              ‘Perhaps, now he would get some answers from his father. Todd certainly had plenty of difficult and probing questions to pose.’

              The C-130 touched down and rolled quickly to a stop. It followed the path of the other aircraft and ended up parked at the end of the line. It shut down its engines, rapidly followed by Todd’s APU.

              Todd checked the formation in and filled them in with the security situation. The pilot in Blue Two asked the question on everyone’s lips.

              ‘What the hell is going on, Purple lead?’

              ‘Fucked if I know! I know as much about this as any of you. If you want some answers, ask the Air Marshal – he should have plenty.’

              Todd's father came on the line, the tone of his voice deadly serious.

              ‘Purple formation, this is Yellow lead – switch to tersary – GO.’

              This was an order for each aircraft to switch to a pre-briefed frequency which Marham couldn’t listen in to. The AVM checked the crews in and made a brief statement.

              ‘Purple Formation, this is Yellow Five. All crews are to remain in their aircraft until further notice. Do not leave the aircraft or even raise cockpit canopies. Make no conversation with the personnel on the ground. You will get answers to all of your questions as soon as I resolve the security situation. And hopefully that will be as soon as I’ve spoken to the Prime Minister – who is probably aboard that DC-3 on short finals to land.’

              Heads in all cockpits turned to the right in unison to see the Dakota land.

              DAKOTA!

What the fuck was the PM doing flying round in a Dakota. Surely something from the Queens Flight should be transporting John Major around? Crews were becoming more and more confused. What the hell was happening?

              The DC-3 taxied to the end of the runway and turned towards the row of aircraft parked on the hard-standing. It stopped at the side of the C-130 and shut down its two propeller engines. The door opened and a set of steps were folded down from the exit to the concrete taxiway.  Ten seconds later a figure emerged followed by a tall man in an Air Marshal’s uniform. All eyes, though, were fixed on the man in front. Slightly hunched, with an overcoat and a Homburg, smoking a large cigar.

              Todd blinked his eyes in disbelief. If it wasn’t impossible, he’d swear that he was staring at Winston Churchill.

***

              Churchill and the RAF officer walked over to the cockpit of the C-130 and exchanged a few brief words with the crew. He then traipsed round to the rear of the Hercules transport and stood motionless as the rear ramp slowly opened downwards. Whilst he was waiting, he looked along the line of aircraft. He marvelled at their design and power and thought to himself what an advantage this could give the war effort.

              As the rear door touched the ground, a lone figure stood in full RAF dress uniform – Sir Henry had been prepared for this eventuality. Before he could move a loud warning shout came from an Army Captain –

              ‘DO NOT MOVE. PUT YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD. YOU ARE SURROUNDED. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’

              Air Vice Marshal Morrissey did as instructed and shouted to the C-130 crew and passengers to remain seated. Churchill then interrupted the Captain.

              ‘Captain, please be quiet, I shall conduct this exchange. Just keep me covered. You may lower your hands sir, and please walk out onto the concrete. I believe we have much to talk about.’

              The AVM relaxed. He walked down the rear platform onto solid ground.

              ‘Thank you very much Prime Minister. We mean you no harm. We are all members of the Royal Air Force and are at your service. Please be aware that I have a dead man on board and a critically injured one. May I seek treatment for him?'’

              Churchill turned to the Army Captain and spoke.

              ‘Captain, detail two men and fetch the wounded man from the aircraft. Administer what First Aid you can until a doctor gets here.’

              This task was done quickly and efficiently after which AVM Morrissey approached the PM. He saluted smartly and Churchill proffered his hand. Morrissey shook it firmly. Dowding was not so forward. He remained about two feet behind the PM and did not say a word.

‘Welcome,’ greeted the PM, .’I believe we indeed have much to talk about !’

***

              Morrissey followed the Prime Minster to his waiting aeroplane and they both got in, quickly followed by Dowding. Four armed soldiers approached the aircraft and set up defensive positions. After, taking his seat, Churchill spat out the first question.

              ‘Who are you, Air Vice Marshal?’

              Morrissey took a long breath and started to speak. He had been waiting nearly thirty years to make this speech, and had practised it many times. But now he couldn’t remember a word. Nevertheless, he swallowed, calmed himself and began:

              ‘Sir, my name is Henry Morrissey. I am an Air Vice Marshal in the RAF and I command this formation of aircraft. We, Prime Minister………. are from the future – the year 1992 to be exact.’

              Dowding scoffed.

              ‘What abject poppycock. From the future indeed. We know all about your ‘jet’ experiments – you are plainly German and this is another German trick.’

              Morrissey tried to continue, but Churchill interrupted.

              ‘Quiet Dowding and let the man finish. And don’t be so naïve. How do explain those aircraft out there. They are far in advance of anything we - or the Nazis - could possibly dream of! ……….Please continue Morrissey.’

              Dowding flushed and sank back in his chair – suitably rebuked.

              ‘Well, sir, I assure you, as far-fetched as it may seem, we
are
from the future. We got airborne this morning - in 1992 - from RAF Marham on a practise flypast for Queen Elizabeth the Second, the daughter of your King. However, we encountered a huge storm over the North Sea near Cromer and have been propelled back here after an enormous lightning strike. We were fourteen aircraft but one was lost during an attack by some Spitfires. The crew are missing, presumed dead.’

              ‘I am sorry to hear that, Air Marshal, but you can hardly blame our people for that. We have been attacked many times in the past weeks by a phantom ‘jet’ aircraft located in Germany. The Spitfire pilots were merely doing their job!’

              ‘I appreciate that Prime Minister, but the loss still hurts – and it may interest you to learn that in 1992 these Tornado aircraft – the smaller jets - cost twenty million pounds each to build.’

Churchill was incredulous.

‘Twenty million you say. Good grief! But we are going to lose many more boys and aeroplanes before this war is over, so we haven’t got time to cry over spilt milk – have we Dowding, eh? Nevertheless, instruct Coastal Command to search for these two downed airmen.’

              Dowding nodded as Morrissey continued.

              ‘Prime Minister, there is one thing I must tell you, so you can understand more fully the scope of this occurrence. I knew that this was going to happen.’             

***

              Not many things fazed Winston Churchill. He had led an adventurous life and seen many wondrous and horrendous sights. Yet this last comment took him aback.

              ‘You knew………….how could you know………surely you would have avoided such a calamity if you knew.’

              ‘But that is exactly the point, Prime Minister. The British living in the year 1992 celebrate annually a great victory by the RAF over the Luftwaffe in July, August & September of 1940. However, there were two people who knew that it was only possible due to an incredible turn of events – and this, Prime Minister is the start.’

              ‘Who is this other person?’ barked the PM.

              ‘There is a small girl, called Constance Andrews, who lives not far from here. At Havelock Manor near Feltwell. If you send someone to the house, you will discover that this morning at about 1100am she fell into a mystery coma. Please check – this should verify my story.’

              Churchill pondered a moment and then turned to Dowding.

              ‘Dispatch a car or a motor cyclist to Havelock Manor to verify this story. At once!’

              Dowding got up and went to the door. He issued the orders and returned to his seat.

              ‘It should take about forty minutes to get a reply.’ He was still highly sceptical.

              ‘In the meantime, Prime Minister,’ interjected Morrissey, ‘there are several things you must do on the security front.’

              Churchill recoiled – he wasn’t used to being pre-empted like this. He insisted on being in control.

              ‘I know, Air Marshal, I know!’

              Churchill again turned to Dowding and issued a long list of instructions.

              ‘Firstly, Dowding, we’ve got to put a cap on this. Gerry must not learn about it – nor must the general public. Get hold of the Commandant of the Military Police. Get a detachment of around 100 MP’s here ASAP. In the meantime no-one – and I mean NO-ONE, is to leave this airfield. All field telephones are to be confiscated & brought here. MP’s are to surround the airfield and arrest anyone who comes snooping. Shoot to kill if necessary.  Next, the personnel in the tower at Marham must be arrested and put in solitary confinement. I’ll consider their fate presently. Finally, we’ve got to get these aircraft under cover – any suggestions Morrissey?’

              Henry Morrissey let out a sigh of relief. Churchill was reacting as he knew he would.

              ‘Well, Prime Minister, the two large hangars on this airfield should be large enough for all our aircraft. I know what work has been going on here. Also I know that these hangars were used for Airship development. That makes them ideal for cover. Our pilots can taxy into the hangars – so there will be no need for towing.’

              ‘Ok, we’ll get that going straight away. Dowding, cut along and get the other matters sorted. And don’t take no for an answer. This is top priority.’

              Churchill was now getting into his stride. This would give him more time to interrogate Morrissey and find out the truth. He still didn’t fully trust the man or fully believe his implausible story– but what else
could
he do?’

***

              Watching all this activity from the temporary prison of his cockpit, Todd Morrissey was getting more frustrated by the minute. In fact he could hardly contain his anger. He had already fallen out with Stumpy, who sat silent and sulking in the front. He had spoken to the other aircraft several times but he could tell that they were getting edgy. He was also concerned for some of the more elderly ‘specialist aircrew’ in the Canberras. A couple were in their late fifties and he was worried about their health. It was now over an hour since they had landed, and quite frankly he had now set himself a time limit. If he didn’t get some action within ten minutes he was going to take some pre-emptive action of his own. Quite what that action was going to be was another question. Should he attempt to get out of the aircraft? Perhaps not, as the soldiers outside looked fairly determined.  Perhaps he should start engines and take-off? No, that would be deserting his crews. He couldn’t do that and they'd shoot him down anyway.