Just Ordinary Men

Chapter 27

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction.  All original characters are my own invention and any similarity to actual persons living or dead is coincidental.  Where actual historical figures are mentioned any dialogue or actions attributed to them is to be similarly viewed, unless the incident concerned is a matter of historical record.

'Blue Section Scramble!'

Winslow sank back into his deckchair at Dispersal with the recollection that he was now A Flight commander and thus Red Section leader, having taken over from Ashton on his transfer to Group HQ.  His lip twitched as he watched Bill Probert charging to his kite flanked closely by Thompson and Fraser.

'Three bloody sections!'  He mused sourly; they had already been depleted by the loss of Tomlinson and Wainwright before they came back south.  Having moved Probert to command B Flight he'd been forced to move Carter from Green Two over to Yellow Three, leaving A Flight with one section - Red - and B Flight with Blue and Green sections.

'I know Tommy.. I know.. I'm doing the best I can.'

He looked back at the murmur to see Bretherton stood behind him leaning against the Dispersal hut wall.  The ever present pipe was in his right hand having been recently filled; Winslow noticed him tucking the pouch of Sweet Briar back inside his uniform jacket.  'Everyone is short of men and machines at the moment Tommy.. it's a Catch 22.. if we get the volume of men we need they won't have the flying hours and they'll end up like Tomlinson and Wainwright, so we lose them almost immediately anyway; if they have the flying hours..'

'They take longer to train and to get to us..'  Winslow finished the observation.  'I know sir but..'

'Alf.'  Bretherton corrected with a smile.  'Remember.. we've known each other too long now to stand on ceremony Tommy.. at least when we're alone as we are now.'

Winslow nodded.  'Yes.. Alf.. I know.. I just have to get used to being the one who sits back when others are sent off to fight and..'  He continued sombrely.  'The one who has to write the letters.'

Bretherton clapped him on the shoulder.  'Come on.. don't start getting maudlin on me already!  Let's go up to Control and listen in on what the trade is today.'

Winslow nodded and, standing, turned to follow Bretherton.

_________________________

'Marta!'

The excited voice brought Marta's head around in a flash.  'Was ist Elke?'

Her house guest thrust a sheet of paper into her hand, Marta eying her curiously as she replied.  'A letter.. look!  It is from my Franz!'

Marta chuckled at the exuberance, turning her attention to the letter in her hands.  Beginning to read she skipped over paragraphs of what seemed a personal nature, her eye then caught by the word 'Förderung'.  A smile spread across her lips and she muttered 'Das ist gut'.

'Was?'

She held up the paper.  'Erich's promotion..'  A pause.  'Knowing him he would not have wanted it this way, but he is a good man and I know if Johann had been asked to choose a successor he would have picked him.'

'Not Gerhard?'

Marta shook her head.  'They are both good men, please do not misunderstand me, but of the two Gerhard is the more impulsive..'  She chuckled before continuing.  'Given that we are comparing him to Erich that is quite a lot!'

_________________________

The subject of their conversation sat in his office scowling as he slowly ploughed his way through the mountains of unfamiliar paperwork.  The sun streamed through the open window behind him and he had discarded the leather jacket he normally wore as the sweat began to trickle down his back.  Unaware of the anachronism , he reached up under the uniform cap he had retained and scratched his head.  He paused, the realisation slowly dawning on him and he chuckled.  'Idiot!'  The cap was duly cast onto the desk at his side and he ran his hand through the thick mop of blonde hair as he puzzled his way through the pile of forms, requisitions and orders.