Valors way, p.21
Valor's Way, page 21
She returned quickly. "I'm not sure. I believe there's an army camp about ten miles west of here, but I think you should have some chai first." She poured two cups and set one in front of him. "How long have you been in the Flying Corps? You look like you're about my age." She sat down next to him.
"Just a few months. I was an Air Explorer and volunteered."
"I'm thinking of joining, but my parents don't want me to. Next week I'll be eighteen and I won't need their permission. I think they know it, too," she said dropping her voice to a whisper as she stirred some sugar into her chai.
"Which service?"
"I'm not sure, either the Navy or the Flying Corps."
"Well, I'm biased toward the Flying Corps." He chuckled and sipped the chai.
"What's that yellow thing you're wearing?"
"It's a floatation vest. If you're in the water, you inflate it and it keeps you afloat."
"Have you ever used it?"
"Once. I spent some time floating about in the Estuary."
"That doesn't sound like it was very nice." She frowned as she raised the cup to her lips.
"It wasn't." Talbot half-smiled, remembering the water's chill. "You have a nice house, very comfortable."
"Thank you. Where are you from?"
"Farnham in Surrey."
"That's not too far from here."
Talbot finished the remainder in his cup and looked at her. "Thank you for the chai. I definitely needed it, but I really do need to get back to my squadron." He stood up, as did Miriam.
"You know, from the pictures I've seen, you look a bit like a raccoon in reverse. Your eyes are clean and your face is dirty. Let me clean you up." She took a cloth from a drawer and dampened it, then rubbed his cheeks. She looked into his eyes the entire time. "A week ago I was doing this to my eight-year-old cousin." She held his chin with one hand while she cleaned with the other.
Blue eyes, she has nice blue eyes. Not as nice as Lynette's though.
The cloth fell from her fingers and the hand holding his chin slid to the back of his neck. Her lips pressed against his.
With his back to the sink, there was no escape.
When she released him, he looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"I'm sorry. I—I guess I shouldn't have done that. It's just that I'd hate to go through life and regret never kissing a fighter pilot."
"I understand." He smiled. "Thank you again for the chai."
"I know that tone. You have a girlfriend, don't you?"
"We just started being exclusive."
"The good ones always are." She shook her head and gave a small laugh. "Well, it was nice meeting you, John. Maybe we'll see each other again," she said as they walked out of the house.
"It was nice meeting you too, Miriam. Good luck with your decision." Talbot started walking down the lane in the direction she told him. Well that's one thing I won't mention to Lynette. Why didn't I just stop the kiss? Isn't that the same thing I was upset about with Lynette and her friend? Good going, John, you're exclusive remember? You're not supposed to be kissing other girls.
The road was flat and made its way through numerous fields in a lazy fashion. It was quiet and peaceful. He imagined having a picnic here with Lynette. No worries, no problems, no war.
A large bird flew past, closely followed by smaller ones. The small ones took turns diving on the bigger one and pecking its head. I wonder who's copying who?
He was just over a mile from the village when a police constable on a bicycle pulled up next to him.
"Can I be of assistance to you, sir?"
"I'm trying to get back to my squadron. I was told there might be an army camp west of here."
"Northwest actually, sir. I'm just going back to my station. We can ring your squadron and let them know you're safe. Then we can give you transport back to your unit."
They walked several miles to a small country police station. A constable, going off duty, offered him a ride back to Redhill, instead of waiting for a car. The motorcycle and sidecar looked about the same age as the constable. Both appeared to be over pension age. With his flying helmet on and goggles in place, the ride produced a fair number of white-knuckle moments. The driver dropped him off at the airfield's main gate and wished him well.
"So, if I'm not there to watch your back you get shot down? Is that the way it works?" Swanson joked.
"Looks that way doesn't it?"
"Are you all right, John?" asked Ramsey.
"I'm fine, sir. I've always wanted an old-age pensioner to scare the crap out of me while riding in a sidecar."
#
The next day began with clear skies and more sorties until rain moved in during the early afternoon.
"Need a ride to the station to see Lynette tonight, John?" asked Swanson.
"I could use a ride to the station, but I'm going to see my parents."
"Tell you what, I'll drive you there. I need to go home, too."
Talbot made several attempts before finally contacting Lynette.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine, a few bruises to my bum from when I hit the ground, that's all. Look, I know it's raining, which means we should get together, but I'd like to visit my parents."
"You don't need my permission. I understand—you'd rather see your parents than kiss me." She giggled.
"Not really. Kissing you is at the top of my list of things I like to do."
"Top of the list? I feel honored."
"Well, you have worked extra hard at it, so it's only right to give you that spot."
"I'm quite sure we're giving the operators an earful, right now." She gave a slight giggle. "Look, I won't pry into your reasons for tonight."
"I haven't seen my parents in a while and I've been too tired to write. Besides, I have to tell them about you."
"Tell them about me? Ooohh, we must be getting serious," she said with a laugh.
"Yes, we are."
#
"I'll be back by ten, all right?" Swanson said, as Talbot exited the Popular.
"Sounds good, are you sure you won't come in for a few minutes?"
"Maybe later." Swanson pulled away and Talbot ignored the rain and looked around the neighborhood. The gray sky hastened the approaching twilight. Lamps came on and window curtains were starting to close for the blackout.
I hope Terry can find his way back here. He opened the front door and felt the welcome familiarity as he stepped inside. He also felt Max grab his leg. "And how has my favorite furball been doing?" Crouching down, he scratched the cat behind the ears.
"Hello? Anyone home besides the cat?" The sound of chairs moving in the kitchen answered his question.
"John, it's good to see you. You're not hurt again, are you?" asked his father.
He stood up and Max rubbed against his legs. "No, I'm fine. I had some time off because of the weather and decided to come home for the evening. My squadron's been moved to a closer airfield."
"Have you eaten yet?" his mother asked as she hugged him.
"Actually no, I think I forgot to." He chuckled as he removed his service jacket.
Entering the kitchen his mother set out another plate and the three of them ate dinner together. The same way they had all those previous evenings, all those previous years. Only his clothes and the conversation were different.
"What airfield are you at now?" his father asked.
"Redhill, it's east of here a bit."
"Are you flying a lot?"
"We're up four and five times a day, Dad. No sooner do we land, and then we're up again." Seeing a look of distress on his mother's face, he changed subjects. "One of these days, I have someone I'd like both of you to meet."
"Who would that be, Dear?" his mother asked.
"Her name's Lynette Seymour. She's a WAAC section officer and I've become quite fond of her."
"What ever happened with Susan? She was nice."
"Mum, Susan broke up with me, remember? And she wasn't very nice about it."
"Now some strange girl is after my baby." His mother shook her head. "I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later."
"You do realize that I'm an officer now? Do you still have to refer to me as your baby?"
"That's because you'll always be my baby, Dear."
"If you say so, Mum. One other thing, Lynette's twenty-two." He kept his face down toward his plate and raised his eyes. He braced for their disapproval and the ensuring argument.
"Ah, the Talbot curse." His father laughed.
"Curse?" He asked, clearly confused.
"All Talbot men go after older women. I'm four years younger than your mum," explained his father. "How did you meet her?"
"And how many times have the two of you gone out?" his mother added.
"When Terry and I flew south after training, to join our squadron, we landed to refuel and I ran into her at the chai van. She was poking fun at Terry and me and we talked for a few minutes. I saw her again in Londinium and we talked a little more. When I became an officer I rang her up and asked her out to dinner. We've seen each other several times since then."
His mother shook her head slightly. "That's not very many times."
"I know, Mum. I'm very much aware of that."
"When do we meet her?"
"I don't know, Dad. Right now all leaves are cancelled, unless it's compassionate or medical. So far the few times I've seen her is when the weather's bad and we can't fly."
With dinner over they moved to the parlor. He was home about an hour when there was a knock at the door.
His father went to see who it was and returned. "John, there's a Sergeant Terry Swanson here for you."
Talbot walked into the hall. His parents joined him. Despite his friend's smile, he could see Swanson was upset about something.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I hope I'm not interrupting, but I thought I'd take you up on your invitation to meet your parents."
"Mum, Dad, this is Terry Swanson. Terry, these are my parents, James and Margaret."
"It's nice to finally meet both of you. John talks about you a lot." Swanson shook their hands.
"Can I get you something to eat, Sergeant?" Talbot's mother asked.
"Please, call me Terry. I get enough of the sergeant stuff when I'm on duty. Thank you, but I've already eaten."
"You can't lie any better than John. I'll just fix you a plate and I won't take no for an answer."
"Everything all right?" Talbot asked quietly, just before they went into the kitchen.
"I'm fine. I'll tell you later." Swanson replied quietly.
While Talbot's mother busied herself at the stove, the three men talked.
"Do you and John fly together?"
"I'm John's number two, Mr. Talbot. I fly behind him and protect his back."
Talbot went into a quick explanation of their flight formation and tactics when he saw the confusion on his father's face.
"Enough of that. Now you just sit down here and enjoy your dinner, Terry." Talbot's mother set a plateful of food on the table.
"Thank you, but I didn't mean to make work for you, Mrs. Talbot. What with rationing and all."
"Don't you worry about that. It's no bother at all. I hope you like it."
After several forkfuls, Swanson smiled. "This is absolutely delicious, Mrs. Talbot. I need to come here more often."
"You're always welcome," Talbot's father said.
After Swanson ate, they returned to the parlor. The next few hours passed quickly as they talked. When Talbot looked at his watch next it was a few minutes past ten. "We need to go and let you turn in for the night," he said, lifting a sleeping Max off his lap.
Putting their service jackets back on, they stood in the hall and said their good nights.
"Thank you for a delicious dinner and your hospitality," Swanson said.
"Like I said earlier, you're always welcome here, Terry," Talbot's father said.
Turning the hall light off, Talbot and Swanson stepped outside and closed the door. The rain had moved on and except for the stars, no lights were visible. The blackout was in force and only one of the two moons showed its last quarter.
Navigating by the narrow slits of light from his headlamps, Swanson headed for the main road back to Redhill. "You've got great parents, John. Your mother's a grand cook."
"I know, I'm surprised I'm not twice my size. So—what happened?"
"I got into an argument with my father."
"About what—if you don't mind my asking?"
"Me, the war, the Flying Corps. He wants me to resign and join him in the cement business. He said I'd proven the point that I could stick to something and do it. Said it was time to quit this foolishness before I got killed. He said that with all the war construction going on he needed my help to run the company. That he couldn't do it all himself."
"Did you tell him you can't resign during a war."
"Yes, and he said he knows people at the Air Ministry and that he could get me out because of a reserved occupation. I told him no, I told him if I resigned I wouldn't be able to look my friends in the eyes again.
"He said I was ungrateful.
"I said if I'm ungrateful, then I guess I don't need these. I handed him the keys to the Ford. He handed them back and said the auto was mine. That I needed it."
"What did your mother say to all this?"
"That bloody cow is useless."
"Terry, that's your mother you're talking about."
"I never told you did I?"
"Never told me what?"
"My mum died when I was twelve. A year later my father married his secretary. She's six years older than I am, John. She's a bloody useless cow, as far as I'm concerned. All she ever says is, my father knows best and to do what he says. I've never called her anything but ma'am. Always upsets my father, he wants me to call her Mum. My mum's dead and that woman doesn't fit the role."
"When you read the letter about the car, you said mother and father?"
"I read the letter as written. His words, not mine."
"I don't know what to say."
"It's not your problem, John, but thanks. You've listened and that's enough. I'll just have to think of someplace to go on leave, if I ever get one. Though I'm sure Midge will come up with an idea or two."
Swanson didn't burden Talbot with anymore talk of his father. They spent the rest of the drive back talking about the evening at Talbot's house.
#
Next morning the small lorry stood waiting and the pilots climbed into the back in ones and twos. The same way they returned from a sortie is how they started the daily ride to dispersal.
As the afternoon progressed, they were sent up for the fourth time since dawn. Over the R/T, Talbot heard Sector Control report a large formation of eighty-plus. Thin clouds over Kent and Sussex hid the enemy from the Observer Corps until they were well inland.
"Pinwheel Leader to Jester Control, enemy formation is a fighter sweep. No bombers, just fighters." The voice was calm and almost detached in Talbot's earpieces.
"Jester to all squadrons, do not engage. Repeat, do not engage. Return home."
The squadron made a wide half-circle. Talbot looked around seeing nothing, but felt the small hairs on the back of his neck raise. Switching his microphone on, he announced, "Blue Three to Pigeon squadron! 109's six o'clock high! Coming down now!"
"Pigeon Leader to squadron—Break! Break! Break!"
Blue Flight immediately performed a sharp turn to port. Red and Yellow turned to starboard.
As Talbot banked left, he saw them. Two squadrons of Me109s came out of the sun. The sky became a swirling mass of individual fights for survival. He slid behind one of the Hun fighters and fired a few quick shots into it. As it dove into a nearby cloudbank, Talbot banked away.
"John, I need help back here!"
Craning his neck, Talbot saw two fighters on Swanson's tail. "Terry, dive and I'll get behind them!" Swanson half-rolled his Hurricane and pointed the nose at the ground. Talbot pulled into a loop and dropped behind the second Me109. As the wings stretched across the reflector sight, he pressed the gun-button. Shards of metal and dense black smoke came from the damaged fighter. It broke to the left and down. Standard Hun procedure to break off combat, they never change.
Swanson jinked, evading the other fighter's guns. Closing into point-blank range, Talbot poured a long stream into the enemy fighter. The Me109 went into a dive, heading for the clouds.
Talbot looked around and both sides were retiring. The R/T was full of voices on their way home. "Blue Four, let's head for home. Are you all right?"
"Actually no. I'm hit in the left arm."
"How bad?"
"Just a nick. I can make it home."
Pulling up next to Swanson, he could see holes in the side of the fuselage. Landing back at Redhill, he climbed from his aircraft and ran over to his friend.
Swanson stood next to his Hurricane holding his upper left arm. Talbot gently moved Swanson's hand away and looked at the wound. The bullet just nicked the flesh.
"Do you want a bandage, or shall I have Midge kiss it and make it better?" Talbot laughed.
"I'm wounded and you make jokes? I could get tetanus. They say the Huns spray their bullets with rancid sauerkraut juice. I could be getting food poisoning as we speak."
"Go see the M.O. and get it taken care of," Talbot said.
"I think I'll need a few days leave to recuperate."
"I've seen worse paper cuts."
Swanson walked away holding the arm and grumbling to himself.
"What's that all about?" asked Redding.
"Terry's got a tiny nick on his left arm and he's playing it for all it's worth."
"Did you tell him to see the M.O.?"
"Yes. Who does the paperwork for his wound badge?"
"You do. So you need to fill out the form for Ramsey's approval."
After Talbot was debriefed by Air Intelligence, he went to Corporal Gilmore for the proper form. He sat down at the typewriter and proceeded to two-finger type the report.
"If you want, I could type that for you, Mr. Talbot," Gilmore offered.
