Valors way, p.19
Valor's Way, page 19
"I'll remember that. I would have attacked the tail of one of them. I could have been someone else's target."
That night there was no visit to a local pub. Pilots collapsed in their new billets and the ground crews worked through the night to have as many Hurricanes as possible ready for the next morning.
Over the next two days, the weather was miserable, but good enough for flying. Low clouds and intermittent showers moved across the area. A morning sortie took them directly over Brighton.
The pier definitely looks different from when I last came here. It was a wonderful place to visit with the puppet and pantomime shows, the rides, and all that candy. Now the pier's blocked off and sections have been removed. The beaches are covered by barbed wire and mined. I hope it all comes back after the war.
Talbot felt the wind buffet his aircraft the entire time he escorted the Channel convoy. No one's going to last long in those waves if they bail out. Heavy swells lifted the ship's bows before dropping them into the wave's trough. The smaller escorts took the worst beating. They bobbed like corks with each heavy wave. He found his arm ached from holding the Hurricane in formation. Each circuit over the ships seemed to last forever.
Even the Huns know better than to fly in this weather.
The escort sortie and return flight to Redhill were quiet and uneventful.
Sheltered in the dispersal hut during a passing shower, Redding looked up from his newspaper. "John, we really need to visit Miller at Sevenoaks. He probably thinks we've forgotten him."
"You're right. We're not that far away. We should be able to get there easily enough. Terry, care to go see Miller first chance we get?"
Swanson nodded as Redding stood up.
"Guess I should ring the hospital and make sure he's still there." A few minutes later Redding returned to his chair. "He's still there and doing all right."
"Good, first chance we get then," Talbot said.
An error in judgment
Talbot turned his raincoat collar up against the wind-driven rain as he and Redding hurried to Swanson's Ford Popular.
"What a wonderful, miserable day. If it isn't a heavy shower, it's steady drizzle," Swanson said as he put the car in gear.
"Better than the alternative, and we all know what that is," Redding noted.
In spite of the weather and army convoys, they made good time. Cleared by the guard at the entrance to the hospital's grounds, they parked in front of the large, red brick, two-story building. Six white columns flanked the entrance. The matron at the front desk dispensed directions and instructed them to leave their raincoats on several nearby hooks. Their footsteps echoed on the quiet building's tiled floors.
Each corridor was lined with double french doors at regular intervals. Through the glass panes the ward beds were visible. Some were empty, some were occupied, and several were screened from view.
"So why do we call them 'Nursing Sisters'? I mean, they're not part of a religious order?" whispered Swanson.
"I'm not sure, Terry," Redding replied. "Must be some reason dating back ages ago. I've wondered about that myself."
They entered the ward: stark, white, and spotless. Roughly half of the beds were occupied and a small contingent of nursing sisters hovered around.
"There he is," Talbot pointed.
As they approached, Miller looked over and smiled broadly. "Well it's about time you lazy buggers showed up." From groin to ankle, his left leg was wrapped in bandages and elevated by wires and pulleys.
Redding chuckled. "We come out on a thoroughly miserable day and this is how he greets us."
"What's that on your cuff, John? My God, they went and made you an officer, didn't they?" Miller smiled, as Talbot stood at the foot of the bed.
"I still say it's a clerical error," Talbot replied.
"He's waiting on a DFM, too," Redding said.
"I made sure they knew what you did. They said that when they were trying to knock me out to operate, I kept pushing the mask out of the way and insisting they hear about you. It's well deserved. So—when's it going to be your turn?" Miller looked at Swanson.
Swanson put his hands up in protest. "No thanks, that's too much responsibility. Being a pilot, I have no details to pull or anything else they try to think up. It's perfect. All I have to do is eat, sleep, and fly."
"And drink," Redding added.
Miller chuckled. "It's really good to see you chaps again. I'm about to go out of my mind with boredom. So how was the drive from Stapleford?"
Redding leaned in. "We've been moved to Redhill. Stapleford took a real pasting. Not much was left standing."
"Damn," Miller replied. "All right, tell me everything they won't put in the newspapers."
They spent the next two hours bringing Miller up-to-date with their part of the war. When his eyelids started drooping, they decided to take their leave and said their good-byes.
"Hold on a minute, John. I need to talk to you," Miller said.
"We'll wait in the car," Swanson said, as he and Redding started to walk away.
Miller waited until the two were gone. "Look, I don't know how to say this without it sounding like a cheap novel. Thanks for saving my life. You stayed and talked me through it, and kept that last fighter away. If I'd been alone, I would have either bailed out and died in the Estuary or crashed." Miller held out his hand.
"You're welcome, Bob." The grip was noticeably weaker than it was when they first met. "Who knows, someday you may have to return the favor. We'll try to get back again soon. Don't chase the sisters around too much." Talbot smiled.
"Thanks for stopping by, John. Tell Ian and Terry that also."
He must be champing at the bit to be out of that bed. I know I would be. He's still weak, though. It's going to take a while for him to build his strength back up.
"Where to now?" Swanson asked, once Talbot was back in the car.
"Actually, I'd like to make a telephone call. I also noticed a train station in town," Talbot replied.
"Ah, someone wants to see his girlfriend," Redding observed.
"Hopefully, yes," answered Talbot. "How's Midge doing, Terry?"
"She's doing better, pretty much back to normal."
"That's good to hear. What say we get some lunch and find John a telephone? As for me, I think I'm going to see some people I know in Londinium. What about you, Terry?"
"Midge has the day free also, so I'll be heading back."
Swanson drove through the drizzle into the nearby town, where they found a restaurant, ate lunch, and made their telephone calls. Talbot and Redding walked several streets to the train station while Swanson headed back to Redhill.
Sheltered from the rain by the platform's roof, Redding looked at Talbot. "So have you thought about recommending Terry for promotion?"
"Actually, I haven't thought about it at all. I'm still getting used to the idea that I'm an officer, let alone deciding if someone else should be one. I'm not sure if I'm even qualified to make that kind of a decision."
Redding lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke. "You make decisions affecting his life every time we go up. You're qualified, all right. Look, you were promoted because Oliver Ramsey sees leadership in you. He sees it, I see it. Even Terry sees it."
"Sorry, Ian, but I think you're all wet."
"No, I'm not, John. A bit more polishing and a tad more self-confidence on the ground, and there'll be no stopping you."
"I still say you're wet and here comes our train." Talbot nodded toward the approaching locomotive.
The ride into Londinium was crowded with more military than civilian passengers. As usual, Talbot's face and rank was the subject of many stares. At Charing Cross Station, Redding took his leave. Talbot consulted a map before continuing on to Uxbridge, the last stop on the Piccadilly line.
Redding's words stuck in his mind as he stared at the back of the seat in front of him. Everybody sees it but me. What am I missing? Am I even supposed to see whatever it is?
A short taxi ride from the Underground station, through the busy streets, took him to the main gate of 11 Group Headquarters.
The guard carefully checked his Identity card. A telephone call verified his reason to be there. Walking along the streets, Talbot wondered if he really was on an RFC station. The reddish-brown brick buildings with blast walls opposite their doors blended in with the landscaping.
He spotted Lynette talking animatedly to another officer. Several times she touched the arm of the male flight lieutenant. He stood near a tree and watched her laugh, hug, and then kiss the handsome lieutenant. They talked a minute more, before going their separate ways.
She's played me for a bloody fool.
Lynette smiled when she saw him. She returned his stiff, formal salute. "John, the main gate rang me up and said you were here. I've missed you." She went to touch his arm and he backed away.
"What's wrong?"
"Even though you knew I was here, you still found time to see your other boyfriend."
"What other boyfriend?"
"I just saw the two of you. And the hug and kiss."
"Oh, that, let me explain—."
"Don't bother." He cut her off. "It's not what you think. Is that what you're going to say? One boyfriend on-station, and another for off-station, is what it looks like to me. Considering your first marriage, I'd have thought you'd be more faithful. I can't believe I fell for your act." He turned and walked away.
"John, I—John? Pilot Officer John Talbot, come back here. That's an order!" Her voice sliced through the drizzle.
He stopped, turned around, and slowly walked back to her. Inside he was seething, and found he couldn't look her in the eyes.
Lynette returned his salute, before she began speaking in a calm, steady voice, "The officer you saw me with is Gavin Pierce. We grew up together and he's like a brother to me. I hugged him after he told me his wife, Cynthia, is pregnant with their first child. I then told him about this wonderful chap I'm seeing. A wonderful chap, who for some reason, seems to have TAKEN LEAVE OF HIS SENSES. Gavin said he was happy for me and that it was great I found someone nice. I kissed him on the cheek and said thank you. Now what part of all this confuses you?"
He stood there silently. As she talked, he went from quick glances at her to staring at the ground.
"Dismissed, Mr. Talbot."
A salute and he walked away. Nice going, idiot! Really stupid, John, really bloody stupid! Now the question is will she even talk to you again? You exploded at her for no good reason at all. How much groveling are you ready to do? He walked aimlessly trying to think of a way to save what they had. Fate found him a covered bench by the Officer's Mess. He stared at the rain fed puddles in front of him.
Lynette sat next to him. "I was afraid you'd left."
"I'm surprised you still care." Talbot continued to stare at the puddles.
"Don't you dare start on me, John. I did nothing wrong. I told you what I was doing."
"I'm surprised you still care to talk to me." He finally looked at her. "I reacted to what I saw. I'm a pilot—it's what I do." He lowered his voice. "It's what seventeen-year-old idiots do." He took a deep breath. "I messed up—I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
"Are you that unsure of how I feel about you?"
"Yes. I'm still trying to figure out why someone as attractive as you would have anything to do with me."
"Attractive? You're trying flattery to make up, aren't you?" A tiny smile appeared on her face.
"Yes—no—I don't know, I'm just confused right now."
"Relationships can be very confusing, John, and you're going through a bad time right now to boot. Sometimes you have to wait and see what happens instead of making a snap judgment. There's one more thing you need to know. If you ever make me pull rank on you again, to get you to listen to me, I won't come looking for you. You embarrassed both of us. I've worked too hard to gain people's respect. You of all people should know what that's like. I know a lot of people look at you and refuse to accept the fact that you're an officer."
"Any possibility we can still have dinner together?"
"Do you promise to behave yourself?"
"I give you my word."
The smile appeared again. "Then, yes, but I have to go back to my office for a few hours. You can wait for me in the Officer's Mess. Sorry, but you can't come with me. Security, you know." She stood and gave him a quick smile. "Look, we'll discuss this whole thing over dinner and get it sorted out. All right? I'll see you in a bit."
He entered the Officer's Mess and found the sitting room. An empty over-stuffed chair by the window called to him. A steward presented himself and Talbot asked for a cup of chai. He saw quite a number of high-ranking officers and his youth and single, thin cuff stripe made him feel out of place. Staring out the window, he didn't notice three figures enter the room, or the one that approached him.
"Now what would one of my pilots be doing here?"
"Squadron Leader Ramsey," Talbot said, coming to attention.
"Relax, John. What brings you here?"
"Visiting someone, sir."
"Well, I have someone I want you to meet." Ramsey turned away. "Sir, it seems the person we were discussing is here."
"Really? Now that is a coincidence." A tall, red-haired, austere-looking officer walked over.
"Air Vice-Marshall Kemp, I'd like to introduce Pilot Officer John Talbot."
"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Mr. Talbot. I've heard quite a bit about you," Kemp said with a smile.
"Thank you, sir, it's an honor to meet you," Talbot spoke as calmly as he could.
Kemp turned to Ramsey. "You know, Oliver, since all the parties involved are here. Why don't we go ahead and take care of that one item we were discussing?"
"It would save you a trip, sir."
Looking around, Kemp's aide spoke, "Excuse us, but would all officers please stand."
"Gentlemen," began Air Vice-Marshall Kemp, "we are here today to honor courage and bravery in the face of the enemy. . .."
Talbot found himself reliving the episode as Kemp read the citation handed to him by his aide.
". . .For your actions, a grateful kingdom awards you the Distinguished Flying Medal." Kemp took the decoration from his aide and pinned it to the left breast of Talbot's Service Dress jacket.
"Congratulations, Mr. Talbot. Well done," Kemp said as he shook Talbot's hand.
"Thank you, sir." He felt strangely detached, as if he was merely an onlooker.
"Congratulations, John, you definitely deserve this," Ramsey said as he also shook Talbot's hand.
"Thank you, sir. We saw Bob Miller this morning. His leg is all bandaged up, but he looks good."
"I'm glad you went to see him, I need to do that myself. I'll see you later, John."
As Ramsey, Kemp, and the aide left, the other officers in the room came up to congratulate him.
Talbot sat back down in the chair and let his mind catch up. Removing his jacket, he replaced the shield-shaped fabric and round medal with the smaller, purple and white diagonally-striped ribbon. He placed it next to his Wound Ribbon, above the left breast pocket.
He finished reading the newspaper and stared out the rain-streaked window thinking about his earlier disastrous meeting with Lynette.
"All ready for dinner?" She stood next to the chair, looking down at him. "I'll drive us to a pub I know of, they have wonderful food."
Talbot put on his raincoat and followed her to a maroon MG.
"Don't let Swanson see this. He'll drool all over it. This is what he was expecting his father to get him."
"I'll remember that. Care to drive?"
"Sorry, I never learned how."
"You can't drive?"
"No," he said settling into the passenger seat.
"You fly a fighter, but you don't know how to drive a car?" Lynette shook her head and started the engine.
She made her way to the main gate and the road beyond. The rain showed no signs of letting up. The windscreen wipers made a light screech as she drove through town. Their conversation consisted of the trivial and inconsequential.
Entering the restaurant, they found a table in the corner. Talbot helped Lynette off with her raincoat.
He removed his and sat opposite her. He watched how she took off her hat and the way she tilted her head, first to one side and then the other, as she fluffed out the flattened curls.
We still haven't kissed. This isn't looking good for me. But then she did agree to go out to dinner. Well, don't bollix this up like you did earlier. Of course, she could be going to tell me she wants to see someone her own age, someone who's mature. I'm not letting her go without a fight.
"You're staring at me."
"Sorry, I don't mean to. It's just that we haven't seen each other in a bit. That and I'm trying to figure out a girl who suggests a posh restaurant on one date, then a simple one on the next."
"It's a plot to keep you guessing and on your toes." She smiled and wrinkled her nose. "When did you get that?"
"What?"
"The DFM. You didn't have one the last time we were together."
"This afternoon. Squadron Leader Ramsey and Air Vice-Marshall Kemp were in the Officer's Mess and presented it to me."
"And what heroic exploit are you not telling me about?"
"It came with the promotion. I guess you could say the one complements the other."
"Were you going to keep all of this to yourself?"
"No, but how do you put something like that into a conversation?"
"There are ways. I'm very proud of you. Congratulations, Darling." She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
Darling? Maybe I still have a chance.
The waitress came by at that moment to take their orders.
When they were alone again, Lynette looked around at the people occupying the nearby tables. She leaned forward and kept her voice low. "We need to discuss what happened this afternoon. Did you have an extremely bad morning?"
Talbot winced at the thought of his earlier actions and shook his head. "No—not really. Ian, Terry, and I went to see Bob Miller at Sevenoaks and everything was fine."
