The Second Pass

The one thing I think nobody really considers about being a pilot is the amount of noise the aircraft make. I don’t just mean when you’re in the air. Even sitting there just outside the officer’s quarters on a quiet day the air was alive with the sounds of trucks, crew chiefs and that beautiful purr of a Rolls Royce Merlin engine. For many, it was the sweetest sound you could hear these days, some like the birds, or the tranquil ambience of a flowing stream, but personally, I’d take the whistle of one of our mosquitos over all of those any day.

         The wooden wonder as she was called, came in low, no more than thirty feet off the ground, and judging by the roar of her rotors she must have been doing at least three hundred and fifty miles per hour. As the kite charged overhead, I caught a glimpse of her tail markings. It was our newest flyer, A hot-headed yank from across the pond on loan in order to study our legendary low-level tactics.

         That morning, dear captain Edward Jenkins was using a rare bit of free flight time to put his bird through its paces, since our wing commander had given him a few hours to and I quote.

         “Take her up and get a feel for the bird, she might look like a bomber but the Mozzy is a lot nimbler than she appears.”

         Jenkins was certainly discovering that for himself. He dropped his nose straight at a line of aircraft being prepped for a sortie working his nose from side to side, peppering our planes with imaginary bullets.

         Anyway, the ground crew didn’t seem to appreciate his jest all that much a dozen men went scrambling for cover. Jenkins got as low as fifteen feet before he finally pulled back on the stick and his plane cleared the line of machines and soared across the airfield, breaking into a left turn as he went.

         As he zoomed off, the purr of the engines dialled down to a faint whistle, and I heard the commotion behind me as our flight leader along with a few of the other officers came pouring out of the mess probably thinking we were under attack.

         Wing Commander Percy Whittingham led the charge, thrusting on his cap and storming towards me as if I had the answers he was looking for.

         “What the bloody hell is he doing! I told him to put her through her paces not break the bloody thing!”

         “Easy old boy!” I yelled back.

         “It’s his first time behind the controls, you remember what happened when we got our hands on the Mozzy’s for the first time don’t you?” I chuckled.

         “Flight lieutenant Copper” He snarled “One refers to his superiors as sir and salutes his fellow officer in this establishment!” 

         That was out of character. Percy and I had gone through training together back in forty-two and had known each other for many years before that. He’d never pulled rank on me once since his promotion. I was initially irritated, but then I saw his eyes They were bloodshot and slightly puffy like he’d been crying. Very out of character for the Percy, I knew.

         “Christ old boy are you alright?” I reached out a hand but he batted it away.

         “No, I’m not bloody alright.” He snapped.

         He took a moment to look around before he grabbed my arm and marched me away from the other officers. “Didn’t you read the papers?”

         I shook my head. The papers were either doom and gloom or overflowing with propaganda and he knew it too.

         “Percy, sorry, Sir!” I corrected. “What’s happened?”

         He took a long breath. “You know the white heart on fifths street?”

         My heart sank, that was the pub his father drank in. “Oh, Percy…”

         “Buzz bomb.” He sniffed. “Fucking Jerrys just can’t accept it… this war will be over by Christmas anyone can see it.”

         I had my doubts about that but of course, I kept them to myself. The German V1s were another matter. We’d spent the last two months charging across the French countryside looking for the buggers. It didn’t seem to matter how many of them we shot up, Jerry always had more.

         “We’re going out again.” Percy declared.

         “We?” I replied. “You can’t be serious!”

         “Do I look like I’m joking?” He fixed me with a glare. “The sooner I can get across the channel and give those kraut bastards a good once over with the cannons the better!”

         I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. “Listen to me, old boy!” I reasoned. “Sit this one out I can lead the squadron-”

         I carried on but he didn’t hear a word I said, our American friend had finished his turn and came screaming in over the airfield even lower this time. He got so low for a moment we thought his propellor might touch the grass, and then he pulled up and the last second and broke into a roll.

         “Blithering idiot!” Percy shouted. “Get that Buffon down here this instant.”

One of the other officers saluted and ran across to the radio tower. I turned back to Percy to try and talk some sense into him but I could see it wasn’t going to do any good. The Americans landed a few minutes later he bounced the aircraft a couple of times on the strip but otherwise did well to bring her down. Of course, our Wing commander really didn’t see it that way.

Jenkins and his navigator climbed out of the machine with huge smiles on their faces. Jenkins was a tall blonde haired young man with a strong chin and big blue eyes, he turned more than a few female heads at the local pubs when he came out with the other officers. Unfortunately for him, the only heads he was turning now were those who were curious about the drilling he was about to receive.

“Jenkins!” Percy roared. “What in blazes was that?”

Captain Jenkins whispered something to his Navigator who nodded briefly before running off to the side out of view.

“What?” Jenkins shrugged. “I was just putting her through her paces like you sai-“

“I never told you to do a bloody roll! She’s a bomber, not a bloody spitfire! Had you been ten miles per hour slower she’d have stalled and crashed right in the centre of our runway!” he moved in closer really wanting to drive home his point. “If you want to prance around like an idiot then bugger off back to Mansted with the rest of your worthless countrymen.”

Jenkins was stunned, we all were. Admittedly rolling a mosquito was rarely a good idea but the American didn’t deserve that level of thrashing. And judging by the look on his face he knew it too.

“Get something to eat, but stay in your suit, we’re going up in two hours.” With That Percy turned and stormed back towards the officer’s mess.

With my hands buried deep in my pockets, I stood beside the bewildered Jenkins and watched my oldest friend go.

“What’s his problem?” The American asked. “I’m not a new pilot, that Mozzy might look like a bomber but I’d bet she can dogfight with anything the Krauts have!”  

“Did you read the paper this morning? About the doodlebug strike?”

“Tch.” Jenkins scoffed “Those damn Kraut Rockets? Yeah, genius things, really, terrifying but genius.”

I frowned. “Well, one of those genius things landed on his old local…” I explained, somewhat solemnly, hoping Jenkins would catch my meaning.

“So, he’s upset because they blew up his bar? Fair enough I guess.”

“His parents were inside,” I said flatly.

His face turned white. “Oh god… I should ap-“

“Don’t bother.” I cut him off. “Percy’s not a bad chap! He just needs to vent, you’re coming up with us today, right? You’ll be flying on his wing, just keep quiet and do as your told and he’ll forget the whole thing by the time we’re over France.”

I started to walk away but Jenkins grabbed my shirt to stop me.

         “He just lost both his parents and you’re sending him up?”

         “I’m not sending him anywhere,” I said with a sigh. “Look, the way we run these strikes is simple and by the book. We split into two pairs, Me and my wingman come in and drop our bombs while you and the commander make a gun run at their defences, we use the momentum from the dive-“

         Jenkins interrupted. “From the dive to come around again at which point we drop our bombs on the remaining launchers while you give the krauts a once over with your guns, after that we’re free to roam the French countryside looking for trucks, trains and planes to destroy at our leisure, at the end of the day we all come home for tea and medals. Relax Copper, I’m more than familiar with your squadron’s tactics.”

         I frowned. “Yes well, you forgot two very important things. Number one, while yes, we do technically have free rain over France after we hit our targets, we never ever come around for a second pass. Jerry’s rather fond of those rockets and doesn’t like it when we hit them. Linger around them for more than a few minutes and you’ll end up with Focke-wulfs on your ass. And secondly.” I stopped and gave him a cheeky grin. “Call me Ginger. I know the record says Copper but I honestly detest that name.”

***

Since the Wing commander wasn’t in much of a talking mood, I took it upon myself to make the pre-flight rounds. The briefing was well, rather brief for lack of a better word, we were all so used to these kinds of sorties by then most of us could fly the routes by memory. Still, we were fighting a war, and sometimes people didn’t come home, so replacements were not an uncommon sight. I’d noticed one of the new lads in the briefing looking rather pale as Percy went over some of the grizzlier details of our operation, so I thought it best to pay the young lad a visit.

         Warrant Officer 2^nd class Nelson was by far the youngest on the flying team at just twenty years of age, he’d barely made it out of training and while I’d heard good things about him, he was still a very new pilot. The young lad was sitting outside one of the hangers, where the mechanics were preparing his aircraft for today’s sortie. He was holding a letter in his hands, while his right hand also clutched a photograph of a young woman in a white dress.

         “Well, she’s quite charming isn’t she!” I greeted.

         Nelson almost soiled himself he was so surprised. The young pilot sprung to his feet in a second and flashed a very rapid salute. “S-sorry sir!” He stuttered.

         I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. “Don’t worry about all that sir stuff with me Nelson.” I waved a hand. “What have you got there deer boy?”

         Nelson held out his letter, but couldn’t quite look me in the eye, I figured it was something private written in there so I didn’t push him on it.

         “Sorry lad” I tapped the bridge of my nose. “Left my reading glasses at home! She’s rather nice though! How did you score a wife like that?”

          “Childhood friend sir!” Nelson smiled nervously. “But she isn’t my wife… yet! She told me to hurry up and win this war so I can marry her in peacetime.”

         “Smart girl, whereabouts, is she?” I knew what the answer was going to be, his accent gave him away.

         “Birmingham sir!” Nelson replied.

         That time I smiled for real. “Ah, good, nice and far away from all this mess. You’re a lucky man Nelson!”

         He didn’t thank me that time, he thought about it for a moment, trying to get the words right before he asked his question. “None of the others really talk to me…” he admitted. “New pilots don’t last long, do they?” 

         It was true, the life expectancy of new pilots in any squadron was low. We’d made a great number of changes to the way we trained our pilots since the start of the war. Nelson had much more flight time and better training than me and Percy did when we first arrived on base. But there’s only so much training can do for you. Of course, I couldn’t tell him that, but I figured I could spin some of the facts a little, at least make him feel safer.

         I grabbed his shoulders and spun the young lad around to look at his plane.

“See that there?” I said proudly. “That right there is the best aircraft in the world. Don’t let her size fool you, she’s faster than damn near anything Jerry has and turns pretty tight for a kite of that size and even if they do catch us, you’ve got four cannons and four three-oh-threes in the nose to give the bosh bastard a damn good smashing! There’s a reason the Hun calls us the whistling death you know!”

He managed a weak smile. “They say that, but I can’t imagine her turning with a Focke… it’s just too big!”

“Ha!” the laugh was honest. “You think so, do you? Well, I know two Focke pilots who’d disagree with you!”

Surprise filled Nelson’s expression. “You got two Fockes?”

I nodded. “Got the first one at the tail end of forty-three, just before Christmas,” I explained. “Cheeky bugger thought he could get the drop on our flight leader!” I held up my hands, mimicking the movements of the dogfight. “He thought he was up against some bombers. He came in right behind Percy and didn’t notice me slip in behind him, gave him a two-second burst and his plane just came apart right there in front of me!” 

Nelson was actually awed. “And the second!”

“Two weeks ago,” I explained. “Caught us on the way back from a strike. We were almost over the pond when two of them came right through the centre of our formation. We all broke formation and I found myself in a hard turn with the wingman, only got the guns on him for a second I had to pull so hard the kite almost stalled. My poor navigator passed out from the g’s bless him but I got Jerry right in the engine…”

I trailed off as the memories of that engagement came back to me. One of my cannon shells hit his fuel line, and the whole of the Germans canopy was sprayed with burning fuel, the fool should have tried to ditch it in the ocean, but he decided to bail out, got burning fuel all over him, burned right through his parachute.

“So anyway!” I said distracting myself from that part of the story. “You’re a lucky man, Nelson, not only are you flying the finest kite the RAF can provide but you’re also flying as my wingman for the day. We’ll be home safe before you know it!”

Nelson nodded, now he really was smiling honestly. “Yes sir!” He said. “Thank you, sir!”

“Ginger!” I corrected. “Now go on and give your kite a walk around, the ground crews are good but she’s still your machine and you’re responsible for her coming home safe!”

With a quick nod and a pat on the back, Nelson went scurrying off towards his machine. I watched him for a moment before I realised there was another member of the squadron standing behind me, and had been listening to my story.

“Good show.” He said. “I especially liked the part you left out where that one ninety shot down his predecessor.”

Second Lieutenant Peter Monroe was my navigator and easily the sneakiest member of the squadron, I swear I could never hear him approach.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly tell him that now, could I?” I shot back.

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know why you bother talking to them. He won’t last a week and you know it.”

“They said that about us as well,” I replied. “Yet here we are.”

Pete wasn’t normally this gloomy. He’d been my navigator for the past six months since we both transferred into the squadron, I’d lost count of all the missions we’d run together, but when you spend that much time in the cockpit you really get to know someone. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“A Yank, a new pilot eager to marry his girl and a squadron leader out for revenge… this sortie is cursed,” Pete said.

I looked up at the sky, nothing but clear blue as far as the eye could see and only the lightest of summer winds.

“Which is why we have the second pass rule,” I explained. “We won’t be out for more than a couple of hours and we’ll only be on target for thirty seconds, then we get low and skim the waves all the way home.”

“More than enough time to get bounced.” Pete laughed. “I wish I had your optimism, Ginger!”

I waved a finger at him. “Still here, aren’t we? I must be doing something right!”

I checked my watch, we only had ten minutes until we were due to head out, just enough time to equip our flight suits and make our pre-flight checks. Still, though I knew Pete had a point, the writing was well and truly on the wall for us this time. But while I was by no means the red baron, I was a decent flyer, as were the other members of the squadron, if all else fails, we still had the speed and firepower of the Mosquito on our side, and that had kept us alive this long.