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.
Unsurprisingly the news of the cancelled escort mission had in the main been greeted with pleasure by the staffel's pilots, although somewhat predictably Alfelt noted sourly not by Freitag, Klentz and Toschstein; the three Nazis openly displayed irritation at being unable to, as they put it 'show the Englanders who was the Master Race.' He felt a hand on his arm and glanced up to see Garsteck giving him a warning look; with a shrug he turned back to the men.
'So.. this does not mean you can laze around all day. I want each of you to go to the ground crews servicing your aircraft and make sure any problems, however minor, are sorted out.' He nodded at the senior pilots 'As you know we don't often get a lull in combat and we need to make the most of any that occur. Once you have resolved any issues I expect to see all of you spending time in the Map Room and the Intelligence section.. especially you new pilots. I want everyone's aircraft recognition and navigation at the top of your form before our next mission. Clear?'
A series of nods around the room signalled acceptance of his directive, following which he turned on his heel, remarking to Garsteck 'On that note I really should go and check in with my ground crew..' With a chuckle Garsteck nodded and followed him from the room.
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Upon their return to the airfield, in sombre mood, the pilots entered the Mess, but as they did so it was as if a weight had lifted from their shoulders; gone were the melancholy thoughtful looks, replaced by the expressions of men who knew their own time may not be long in coming, and were determined to enjoy whatever time they had. As they entered a loud cheer went up 'Three cheers for the new pilot officers! Hip Hip!'
Ashton smiled as Carter went beet-red while the room echoed to the cheers 'It seems the good news has spread already.. I wonder how that could have happened..'
The look of feigned innocence fooled nobody, and soon a full-scale party was underway.
Carter called over to Ashton 'I think they may have noticed the uniform alterations sir!'
Laughing Ashton replied 'I should bloody well hope so! Short-sighted pilots are no damn good to me whatsoever!'
After about half an hour someone shouted 'Pub!'
There followed a stampede to the door whereupon all ten pilots set off on foot for the short walk to the Cornish Arms public house which had thus far been the happy recipient of many RAF nights out, being closest to the airfield. On the way Carter sought out Rowlands who clapped him on the back smiling broadly 'Congratulations Pilot Officer Carter!'
Carter grunted at the power in the slap 'I.. err.. didn't know how my promotion would be received.. so quickly..'
Rowlands stopped and eyed him sharply 'If you mean me you daft bugger don't worry.. you deserve that promotion! Doesn't matter how long you've been here, skipper always makes sure ability is recognised, and you're a bloody good flier.. took me three sorties to hit anything, much less get a probable!'
Carter smiled, then laughed 'Well he did have bits dropping off when I last saw him, but he was still flying, so probable is good enough for me!'
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Grinning Alfelt made his way down to Dispersal to check on his 109 and make sure everything was alright; as he walked he felt himself beginning to relax, even whistling the popular tune 'Lili Marlene.' His reverie was brought to an unexpected halt as he rounded the corner to see his aircraft with the engine cowling removed and the head and shoulders of a mechanic peering into it with a frown on his face. Somewhat perturbed he called over 'Was ist Franz?'
Hearing his voice the grizzled features of Oberfeldwebel Franz Leitner turned to him 'Guten morgen Herr Major! I was just wondering if you could answer a puzzling question for me..'
Eying him suspiciously Alfelt nodded warily 'Was?'
Growling the burly mechanic stepped toward him and replied 'Was zum Teufelhast du getan, um es diesmal?'
Alfelt snorted 'You know Franz.. if we weren't such old friends I could easily have you shot for speaking to me like that..'
The older mechanic grinned, wiping his oily hands on a rag 'Yes.. yes you could Herr Major.. but then who would you get that would put up with you breaking this wonderful aeroplane all the time?' He threw the rag down and repeated his earlier inquiry 'So.. what in hell did you do to it this time?'
A shrug was the response, which he mimicked in reply 'What does.. mean?'
Alfelt yawned and regarded him 'Well you see Franz.. until I know exactly what I am supposed to have broken I cannot answer you now can I?'
Leitner chuckled 'You mean you don't know what excuse to make up yet..'
Laughing Alfelt nodded 'You know me too well Franz! Seriously, what is the problem?' He threw a glance up at the overcast sky 'We're unlikely to be doing any flying today so I've told all pilots to come down here and check in with their ground crews to make sure any problems are being addressed.' Leitner nodded as the comment filled a gap in his knowledge 'Ach.. so that is why the young Leutnant was down here earlier.. he seems a promising one Herr Major.. hopefully he will stay alive long enough to be fulfil that promise..'
Alfelt raised an eyebrow 'Which young Leutnant, and what time?'
Leitner paused in thought 'Holbein.. he was down here about 0630 this morning chatting to his ground crew and asking them if there were any problems and if so how long they would take to fix..'
A broad smile spread across Alfelt's face '0630? You're right Franz, that young man will do very well for himself if we can keep him alive long enough. I only gave orders for everyone to check their aircraft fifteen minutes ago, it seems he instinctively knew what was the right thing to do..'
He nodded approvingly, but a cough from Leitner drew his attention as the older man pointed at his aircraft 'Fuel injectors.. need replacing..'
The Daimler Benz 609N was fitted with a fuel injection system which gave it its single advantage over the British Hurricane and Spitfire; fuel would feed even if the engine was in a negative G state, such as with the nose pushed forward. The bf109 could therefore dive straight down to get out of trouble whereas the British aircraft with normally aspirated carburettors had to roll on their backs to dive. This was the system Leitner refered to, and it appeared Alfelt had somehow broken his.
It took a moment for Alfelt but then light dawned 'Ach ja.. I had to pull her quite hard in a bank, perhaps something became overstressed?'
Grumbling Leitner muttered 'It's not the only thing overstressed around here..'
Alfelt clapped him on the shoulder 'Franz.. Franz.. we have been together you and I over twenty years.. you remember that fresh faced eager young teenager to whom you very tactfully indicated where to put his feet so he didn't break his Pfalz the very first time he climbed in it?'
Leitner chuckled and nodded 'Ja.. Oberst Prim would have had your guts for garters if you'd broken one of his aircraft the very first time you touched it.. but what's your point?'
Grinning Alfelt replied 'Well now old friend this is not the Western Front, and I am no fresh-faced teenager.. and for that matter you are not as young as you once were. So tell me.. what is it?'
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After about half an hour of walking the three miles - knowing their capacity for alcohol consumption Ashton had banned driving - the pilots found themselves on Gors Street, Burry Port outside their favourite pub - The Cornish Arms. Once inside they waved a cheery greeting to the landlord and barmaid and ensconced themselves in the snug. It was fairly early and as there were hardly any locals in they sat together talking quietly as Ashton went up to the bar. With a smile and a nod to the barmaid he asked 'Ten pints of mild please..'
Returning his smile she pulled the pints and set them on two trays for him 'That'll be seven and sixpence please.'
Nodding Ashton reached into his trouser pocket but was interrupted by the landlord looking over at them and calling 'No it won't.. this round's on the house!' The barmaid gave him a quizzical look but didn't argue.
Ashton however was curious and he approached the landlord and was about to ask when the other held up his hand and spoke softly 'My wife was up at the church earlier.. You lost two of your boys defending us, it's the least we can do..' He paused and continued with a twinkle in his eye 'I can't promise the next round though, I've seen how much your lads can drink!'
Ashton laughed 'True enough.. that's very kind of you..' He turned away and whistled 'Hey! Tommy! I'm not carrying this lot on my own you know! Get yourself over here!'
The lanky figure of Winslow uncoiled itself from the corner and stood up to walk over to the bar, but as he did so Ashton noticed the heavy wooden beam above his head and called out 'Tommy! Mind yo..' The dull thud of forehead connecting with oak forestalled the end of his warning, followed by a loud curse.. '.. head..' Ashton finished the sentence and winced 'That looks like it hurts', eying the gash on Winslow's forehead.
The recipient of the comment growled and picked up one of the trays 'Eleven months fighting Jerry and not a scratch.. come to the pub with you and I cop one in the head!'
Ashton was about to respond when 'Mind you don't bleed in my beer!'
The call bringing a smirk to his lips 'Now now Jimmy! Show some respect for your flight commander..'
Flying Officer Thompson grinned 'Beg your pardon sir..' directing his next comment to Winslow 'Mind you don't bleed in my beer.. sir!'
The snug erupted in laughter as Ashton and Winslow put the trays down and each reached for a pint. Taking his first sip Ashton looked around at the assembled men and smiled to himself 'A good crowd..' He coughed to get their attention 'Gentlemen.. while you're all still mostly sober.. a toast.. Per Ardua Ad Astra.. to Peter and Joe.. there will two new stars tonight..'
The gathering raised their glasses echoing 'Peter and Joe..' Ashton glanced round at them and took another mouthful of beer. As he leaned back in his seat he heard the telephone ring behind the bar; a sharp glance between him and Winslow agreeing with his gut instinct, confirmation swiftly following with a call from the bar.
'Squadron Leader Ashton.. call for you!'
Nodding his response he placed his glass down on the nearest tray and walked over to the bar, picking up the receiver 'Ashton!'
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Leitner scowled 'Ach, nichts Herr Major..'
This however elicited the tart reply 'Bullshit Franz.. what's eating at you?'
Alfelt crossed his arms staring at one of his oldest friends, and one whom he knew his life had depended on at least as much as his fellow pilots in the past two decades.
With a sigh Leitner scratched the back of his neck 'You said it yourself.. "that young man" and before him was Ritter. Maybe I am getting old.. or it's been too long since we have faced an enemy capable of fighting us on equal terms. You know better than I the Spanish, Polish, French.. none of them were a match for us. Now though we face the English.. again.. we both know how tenacious they can be, especially with their backs against the wall..'
Alfelt raised an eyebrow 'Ja.. I know this Franz.. come on spit it out..'
Leitner shrugged 'You at least are able to affect things.. control the outcome.. for us on the ground though.. we fix aeroplanes, fuel and arm them, then watch you go off not knowing how many of you will be coming back. When I was young.. ach.. the invulnerability of youth.. now though..' he shrugged '.. Mortality.. I wonder how many of us will live to see this war's end..'
Thinking rapidly Alfelt puffed out his cheeks 'Franz.. how is Elke?'
Leitner looked at him sharply 'Who has been..'
Alfelt clapped a hand on his shoulder 'Nobody has said a word.. you tell me old friend.. what should they have said?'
Leitner's shoulders sagged 'Our house was bombed last month..' at Alfelt's alarmed expression '.. It's alright she is not hurt.. but our neighbour's son was killed..'
Alfelt pursed his lips in thought, then made his decision 'You live in Frankfurt ja?' Leitner nodded 'Gut.. then you will send a telegram to Elke and says she is to pack her things and travel to Erfurt where she will stay with Marta..' At the look of protest he could see forming he held up his hand 'No arguments Franz.. Marta is alone now.. both my boys are in the Luftwaffe Signale Schule in Erfurt so she has the house to herself. It will be good for her to have company.'
Leitner smiled 'Dankeschoen Herr Major.. I will send the telegram now and let her know!'
Alfelt paused 'Come to think of it I had better let Marta know otherwise the English will be the least of my worries!'
The pair laughed and walked over to the communications building to let their wives know of the plans made on their behalf.
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'John? It's Alf!' Ashton's surprise must have been evident in his response as Bretherton chuckled 'No it's not a social call.. signal just came through from Group; the squadron's needed back down south. You're to pack up immediately and get back to Tangmere as soon as possible.. I thought I'd better call you while the boys are still capable of standing.. or am I too late?'
Ashton growled - they'd been promised a month out of the front-line but as evidenced by the recent toast, nowhere was completely isolated from the war. 'No you're not too late. Alright Alf.. you get the ground crews to fuel and arm our kites, get all their kit packed up.. you're in charge of the ground component this time..' he glanced at his watch '4pm.. We won't get down there for any sorties today, so that gives you until tomorrow morning to get through by road.. oh.. shit!'
The curse caught Bretherton by surprise 'What is it John?'
'Hold on Alf..' Ashton scowled and shouted over to the group in the snug 'Pack it up boys.. back to base.. now!' Well aware of the posters displayed prominently all around he was careful not to announce their orders in a public place, but he could see from looks directed his way and muttered comments from Winslow to others that the message had been received loud and clear. He returned his attention to the phone 'My kite.. tail wheel is bust.. has Powell got it fixed yet?'
Bretherton paused 'Wait one..' the receiver was placed on the desk and Ashton heard a squeak as a window was swung open, followed by Bretherton's Lancashire accent bellowing the enquiry. A few seconds later his voice was back on the phone 'You're in luck John.. Powell's not very happy with you, but he says it will all be buttoned up by the time you get back here..'
Ashton grinned 'He'd better work fast then.. I want the Bedford to pick us up, should save a good half an hour, which we need..'
Bretherton laughed 'I'll tell him to shake a leg.. The Bedford will be with you in a few minutes..'
Ashton replaced the receiver and, having made sure any outstanding bar bills had been paid in full, returned to the group. A sharp glance around told him all he needed to know and he nodded speaking softly as they walked out to the roadside 'Right gentlemen.. as Tommy has no doubt guessed and informed you, our time in this holiday camp is over. The Bedford will be here in a couple of minutes to pick us up, meanwhile the kites are being fuelled and armed ready for us to leave immediately. Wing Commander Bretherton will be commanding the ground convoy overnight while we get the aircraft there as quickly as possible. Any questions?'
A hand was raised 'Yes Fraser, what is it?' The young pilot grinned full of enthusiasm 'Are there any nice broads there sir?'
Ashton raised an eyebrow 'Broads? We're going to Kent not Norfolk..'
A reply which elicited a hoot of laughter from the others; a puzzled Ashton growled at Winslow 'What is so funny?'
Failing to keep a straight face Winslow replied 'You don't get out much do you Skipper? Broads.. dames.. women..'
The light of understanding flickered in Ashton's eyes 'Ahhh.. I did wonder at one of my pilots having such an interest in nature.. to answer your question Fraser, if you have enough spare energy to go chasing skirt when we're down south I'll eat my hat!' The roar of a petrol engine outside drowned out any further conversation and they climbed aboard for the journey back to Pembrey.