Valors way, p.37
Valor's Way, page 37
They sat there. Talbot alternated between his pint and his cigarette.
"I'm all right, really." He stubbed out the cigarette. "I guess I'm just like everyone else. Just waiting for this war to be over."
Lynette rested her head on his shoulder and continued to hold his hand.
#
The rest of the day melted together for him. He and Lynette spent it in walks around the estate or in conversations with her parents.
The last morning there Talbot woke early. He was finishing his coffee when Lord Edward entered the dining room.
"Good morning, John."
"Good morning, sir."
Lord Edward poured himself some coffee before joining Talbot by the window. He slowly drank it as he looked at the manicured grounds. "I used to have a gardener and staff to take care of the landscaping. They left for the army and now I have a local company taking care of it." He took another sip. "I have to leave for the ministry shortly. Would you mind taking a walk with me before I leave?"
"Not at all, sir." Well here it comes. The shove-off speech. Interesting that he's waited until the day we're leaving to give it to me, especially after last night's conversation. I'm not giving up without a fight. I love Lynette, whether they like it or not.
Walking out the French doors, they strolled along a row of trees. They were a short distance from the house before Lord Edward spoke.
"I'd like you to understand something about Lynette's mother and myself."
"Yes, Lord Edward?" Typical beginning, within five minutes it'll be bugger off little boy.
"When Lynette met Roger, I knew he was a bastard. I could feel it in my bones, so to speak. I'm sure you've had feelings like that about people?"
"Yes, I have."
"I kept my feelings to myself. Lynette was happy and I wanted her to stay that way. I'm sure she's told you about her marriage and divorce."
"Yes, she has."
"After what happened, I vowed not to be silent again. That if I felt someone wasn't suitable for my daughter, I would speak my mind."
Ah, here we go. We're now on final approach to piss-off.
"Pamela and I are very much aware of the age difference between you and Lynette. Five years can be a lot."
And we're about to touch down.
"My daughter loves you very much, as I'm sure you know. I haven't seen her this happy in years. You've shown a solid maturity for your age. Pamela and I, while we have our reservations about the age difference, think you make a handsome couple. You're welcome to come back whenever you can."
Well, I'll be. "Thank you, Lord Edward. My intentions toward your daughter are completely honorable. I love her very much."
"I can tell. Now let's get back. I have to be leaving."
#
Lynette entered the dining room. Her mother stood looking out the window.
"Have you seen John anywhere, Mother? He's not in his room." Lynette poured herself a cup of chai.
"He's outside talking with your father." Lady Pamela nodded toward the row of trees.
Lynette put the cup down and approached the window. "Mother—please—not this time. I know Father means well and I do trust his judgment, but, there's nothing wrong or bad about John. I haven't felt this way towards someone in a long time. In fact, I don’t remember ever feeling like this."
"Dear, right now your father is telling John that we think he's wonderful for you." Lady Pamela placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "In fact, anyone who insists on calling me Lady Pamela is probably going to make a wonderful son-in-law." She smiled.
"Mother, thank you and thank Father, too." Lynette kissed her mother's cheek. "Son-in-law?"
"Just thinking about the future, Dear, just thinking about the future."
#
Lynette switched off the MG's motor. "Our last night together. This time tomorrow you'll be getting ready to leave."
"Why don't we have dinner in Londinium tomorrow night?"
"We can if you want."
"I think it would make things easier," Talbot said.
"If I don't get out of the car, will our time stand still?" Lynette asked.
"If only it would. Look, I'll get our bags, if you can take care of the food Mrs. Jeffers made for us." Talbot climbed out of the MG. "Does she always send you home with this much food?"
"This is the first time. I think she likes you and didn't want you to suffer through my cooking."
"Even after she threatened me with a spoon?"
They quickly found space for the food. Talbot sat on the sofa and was soon joined by Lynette.
"John, about the other night when I came to your room?"
"What about it?"
"I've never done anything like that before. I've only brought two other men home for a weekend visit. You're the only one who's had the guestroom next to mine. I'm not the sex-starved woman that I seem to be."
"Really? Talk about giving the wrong impression."
Her eyes widened in mock-horror. "John! That's not funny! I am not like that."
Talbot chuckled softly, then wrapped her in his arms.
They spent the evening watching the fireplace. The flames cast moving shadows as they talked and later as they made love.
#
They stood near the platform gate stretching the time as much as they could. The background noise faded away as they looked at each other. Lynette reached over and smoothed his lapel. "I've been dreading this moment since your first day of leave." She kept moving her hand over his lapel and staring at his chest.
"Let's not have any of that. If all goes well, I'll be back in a fortnight."
"If all goes well?"
"With new pilots joining the squadron and others returning from sick leave, I would say a fortnight is about right."
"Did you enjoy your leave?" She looked into his eyes.
"Every moment of it, even breaking it down to minutes and seconds." He touched her cheek. "Did you enjoy it."
"Everything about it was grand. Even the parts that didn't go as well as we hoped."
Talbot looked up as the conductor announced final boarding and kissed her. As their lips parted, she held him in her arms a moment longer.
"Ring me up if you can, but I know the telephone lines are terrible up there."
"I'll make them string new ones." Talbot entered the last car and looked at her from the compartment window. He watched her walk alongside as the train slowly pulled out. He opened the window, leaned out and waved to her as she stood at the platform's end. Damn leaves are never long enough.
Recognition
The squadron came in over the boundary fence and drifted down onto Redhill's grass field. Undercarriage shock absorbers adjusted themselves to the weight of the fuel-lightened fighters. Merlins alternated between idling and revving-up as the pilots coaxed the Hurricanes into their dispersal spots.
Morris jumped onto the wing after setting the wheel chocks in place. While he unbuckled the seat harness, he turned his head and nodded toward the row of jagged holes in the starboard wing. "Heavy flak today, sir?"
"I think our Intelligence people underestimated how many guns the Huns have at Dieppe." Talbot climbed out of the cockpit and looked at the damaged wing.
"It won't take long to mend, sir."
"Sorry, Thomas." He looked around the field and smiled. Twelve took off and twelve came back. A good op.
Off to his right, he saw Ramsey in a one-sided conversation with Swanson. The squadron leader didn't look happy. He knew the talk was about Swanson breaking formation to attack an antiaircraft position.
Talbot felt the chill in the air. The previous two days were typical for Autumntide with low overcast skies and constant fog, but today was sunny so they took advantage of it. When eleventh and twelfth month came, the days available to fly would diminish even further.
"Bloody flak was thick enough to dance on, John," Swanson said as he walked up and looked over the damaged wing. "At least they missed the vital bits."
"And you're bloody lucky to be alive."
"Because I broke formation to take out that flak gun?"
"You didn't ask permission. You just left."
"Yes, I know, and Ramsey has already torn off a strip. I've never been one for mother-may-I. You know that, John."
"You need to stop taking unnecessary risks."
"You sound like Midge."
"Then take the bloody hint. There's a fine line between daring and reckless. We do have procedures for attacks like that. We've practiced them enough. It could have been a trap with the rest of the battery waiting for a careless pilot."
"It was a perfect target, so I took advantage of it. I know what you're saying and I'll watch out next time," Swanson said as they started toward the dispersal. "But, I have a more pressing matter on my mind. What's the gen? Are we refitting with Spits or not? You have Ramsey's ear. When's it going to happen?"
"I have no idea. All I know are the same rumors you hear."
"I think you're holding back. You've been sworn to secrecy."
"Think what you will, Terry. I'm telling you the truth."
"So, have you thought about my idea?"
Talbot stopped and waited until the other pilots were out of earshot. "Yes, I have, and it puts me in a tough spot, you know that?"
"All it is, is a favor. Geoffrey Pender's gone back to the fleet and he's trying to transfer from the Navy to the Flying Corps. So, I just thought we could use a little help from those above us."
"Yes, but I'm asking the help from Lynette's father and her uncle, Air Vice-Marshall Kemp. If I don't talk to her about it first, then she'll think I'm going behind her back. That makes me no better than her ex-husband."
"Sorry, I didn't think of it that way. I just thought you could ask for their help and they could make it happen."
"The next time I see her, I'll talk with her about it, all right?"
After being debriefed, the pilots gathered around the dispersal hut stove. Talbot leaned back in his chair and rested his flying boots on the coal stove's guardrail. He closed his eyes and half-listened to the conversations around him. His feet warmed, and he let himself relax. When twelfth month arrived, he looked forward to spending many days in this exact position.
"Any idea when they're going to fit heaters in the aircraft? I mean it is almost eleventh month?" Steele asked.
"You received trousers to go along with your Irvin jacket, right?" Swanson asked.
"Yes, of course."
"Well, those and long underwear are your heater." Swanson chuckled.
Ramsey walked out of his office and filled his mug at the chaipot. He approached the stove and leaned over. "John, I hate to interrupt your nap, but I need to talk to you in my office."
Talbot followed him, closed the door, then sat down in the chair opposite Ramsey's desk. He sipped at his mug of chai. "Yes, sir?"
"So what did you think of this morning's activities?"
"Blue Flight needs to work on their formation flying. They're still rather sloppy. I'll take them up this afternoon and get it sorted out. Otherwise, I thought we worked well as a squadron."
"And Terry's little escapade?"
Talbot managed a half-smile. "Our mission was to provide low-level escort for the Blenheims, and that's all. His attack on the flak position showed a bold initiative. That part could earn him a commendation."
"What else?"
"It was stupid and reckless. He not only put his own life at risk, but that of his wingman as well. He disregarded orders."
"Did you say all that to him when the two of you were talking?"
"I said he was lucky to be alive and that it was a stupid thing to do."
"That's all?"
"I told him he should have followed procedures. You already talked with him, and I didn't feel it was right for both of us to tear off a strip."
"What if he wasn't your best-friend?" Ramsey patted his pockets.
"I wouldn't have handled it any different." Talbot handed him a cigarette lighter.
"All right, I see your point. Remember that a squadron leader has to tell his people the truth, even if it hurts their feelings. He's their commanding officer first and their friend second. That's why they never promote squadron leaders from within squadrons, why they're always transferred in." Ramsey lit his cigarette and returned the lighter.
"There is one other thing, sir."
"What's that?"
"Terry is showing a real talent for ground attacks. He seems to have a bit of hidden ability that's starting to surface."
"I've noticed and it's also been noted in his file. And now we have a few things for you."
"What's that, sir?'
"One thing is that as of yesterday, you've been promoted to flight lieutenant. Congratulations."
"Thank you, sir. It seems to have come rather quickly."
"If you're to get a squadron, there are steps to follow. The other item I need to talk with you about is that in two days, on the 30th, you're to report to Buckingham Palace."
"Where, sir?" Now what's going on?
"Buckingham Palace—it seems that you're being awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross that I put you in for a hundred years ago. The king will be awarding it to you in addition to the Cross of Valor."
"Why am I getting a C-O-V?" Talbot felt completely bewildered.
"I believe it has something to do with what happened after you were shot down over Hastings. Here, read this."
He took the offered letter and his eyes flew over the typed page again and again. "This has to be a mistake, sir. This just can't be right. Someone misspelled a name or transposed a service number. This has to be someone else's gong or a bad joke."
"It's no joke, John. Several people have to file reports on your actions. That's a requirement for the C-O-V. A single letter won't even be considered, it has to be multiple reports. I wrote one of them."
"I don't know what to say. I don't feel that I did anything to deserve a medal, especially a C-O-V. I just did my duty."
"The Flying Corps feels otherwise. There's a bit more. After the presentation you'll be temporarily posted to the Ministry of Information for a six-day tour of factories and plants to boost morale and defense bond sales. Now, if I were you, I'd get a new uniform."
Looking down at himself, Talbot smiled. "Yes, I guess I need to look my best." This can't be true. I didn't do anything heroic.
"Now let's go make an announcement that will knock everyone's sock's off."
#
The four of them followed the maitre d' through the maze-like dining room. The murmur of voices from the many tables created a background for the small orchestra and singer to overcome. The room's mood was lighter, people were trying to return to as normal a life as the war allowed.
After being seated and given their menus, Lynette looked up. "It's so nice that we could get together for dinner."
"Things always seemed to get in the way," Swanson replied.
"To be honest, it's my fault, Ma'am," Midge said quickly. "I'm a bit uncomfortable around WAAC officers, so I kept making excuses. But tonight is special, so to speak, so I agreed to the invite."
"We're all human, Midge," Lynette said. "Why would you be uncomfortable around me?"
"It's not you, Ma'am. It's my section officer. She isn't very nice and goes out of her way to make my life miserable."
"She's takes nasty lessons," Swanson added.
Lynette looked at Talbot.
"I agree. The woman is an absolute witch. I'm surprised she's on our side."
"What's the problem?"
"There aren't many of us girls working on the aircraft. Most are clerical. So when I'm on duty, I'm under the squadron's command. When I'm not, I'm under her command. She doesn't believe that women should be doing what I do, so she keeps sticking her nose into our duty-time."
"Does she bother you when you're re-arming the aircraft?"
"She did once. Flight Sergeant Sloane escorted her away and told her she was banned from the dispersal area and the aircraft shelters. But she's found other ways to make me miserable."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Midge, really. Tell you what, how about if you call me Lynette? No more ma'am. I'm sure that would help."
"I'll try—Lynette."
The waiter returned and placed their drinks on the table, then promptly left.
"John, did you notice that when we ordered pints the waiter didn't ask for our Identity cards?" Swanson said.
"Perhaps, he figured that if you can fight for your country, then you should be able to order a pint," Midge commented.
"Maybe it's John and all those rings on his cuff," Swanson replied. "Well, I need to make a toast to my best-friend. So you'll need to bear with me for a moment. From the first day, he's been watching my arse and keeping me out of trouble."
"All this time and he still doesn't know what a wingman is supposed to do," Talbot said with a chuckle.
Midge stuck her tongue out at him.
"Carry on, Terry," Lynette said.
"He's the best pilot I know and a great friend. I'm glad we're going through this together, and if he keeps getting promoted at this rate, he'll be an Air Marshall before the year is out. To John."
"To the man I love," Lynette added, as their glasses clinked together.
"John really is being promoted fast, why the next stop is squadron leader," Midge said. "But they can't have two squadron leaders in the same squadron—."
"Where is that waiter?" Talbot cut-in. "You tell them you need a minute to decide and they disappear for an hour."
"Yes—the waiter." Midge gave him a close-lipped smile.
Talbot saw it in her eyes. She knew what came next. She had already lost one good friend and another would soon be leaving. Lynette and Swanson looked on silently.
"They'd never make me a squadron leader, Midge. They'd have to be certifiably daft. Besides, when I show up at the palace tomorrow, they'll realize they made a mistake and send me packing."
"And why would they do that?" Lynette asked.
"Because I didn't do anything worthy of a gong."
"Tomorrow when the king pins that bit of fabric and metal on you, they're going to read your citation and maybe then you'll realize that you’re a bloody hero," Swanson stated.
