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.
Alfelt stood up and stretched, glancing around the communications hut; a grand name, he mused, for what amounted to a room with a radio, telephone and telegraph. He glanced around before leaving, his eye alighting on a machine in the corner; it looked like a typewriter but had wheels at the back and was connected to the radio cables. 'Was ist das?' Pointing he indicated the object of his curiosity.
A Feldwebel followed his finger and nodded 'Ah.. that Herr Major is our new toy. It is called Enigma and I am told that when we send encrypted messages through it the code is unbreakable..'
Catching the implication Alfelt raised an eyebrow 'You are told.. you are sceptical of the claim Feldwebel Schaefer?'
Schaefer paused before replying 'I meant no disrespect Herr Major!'
A shake of the head from Alfelt 'None taken, I am merely curious..' He eyed the younger man 'Speak plainly.. that is not an order, merely a request..'
Clearing his throat Schaefer replied 'I merely meant that what man can make, man can break Herr Major.. If we can invent it then it is possible it can be broken..'
Alfelt considered the answer, true evidently, the logic inescapable, yet 'A fair point Feldwebel, but one I recommend you do not voice in public. It could be viewed as criticism of your superiors..'
Schaefer winced 'Ja Herr Major.. Danke..'
Jerking his thumb toward the telegraph Alfelt queried 'When can you send those telegrams?'
Schaefer took them off the pile 'Right away Herr Major!' He paused 'Was there anything else mein Herr?'
A shake of the head 'Nein danke..' With that he turned on his heel and made his way along the corridor, passing his and Garsteck's offices, and turned left out of the building. He glanced up at the darkening skies and grumbled 'If Franz doesn't get that bloody engine fixed in the next hour I'll be out of action for the mission tomorrow!' Lip curling in annoyance as he contemplated the staffel having to take on that sortie without him he quickened his pace. As he approached Dispersal however, Alfelt could hear whistling and he quickened his pace curious to see who was so happy and equally why. He turned the corner around the barn being used as a hangar and located the source, Feldwebel Leitner leaning over the engine cowling whistling loudly, the ground crew around him failing to conceal their amusement. Alfelt ignore them, and with the repairs in mind he called out 'Franz! How are those fuel injectors?'
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The Bedford 30cwt truck pulled past the guardhouse at RAF Pembrey and came to a halt next to Dispersal. Winslow pulled aside the canvas securing the back and the pilots all piled out of the back, while Ashton jumped down from the passenger seat at the front.
Winslow caught up to him and slapped him on the back 'Comfy ride Skipper?'
The sarcasm did not go unnoticed and Ashton smirked 'Yes thank you Tommy.. how kind of you to show concern for my welfare.. and you dear chap.. how was your journey?'
Growling Winslow accepted defeat and muttered 'After that journey I think my piles have piles!'
Ashton laughed 'Well you'll have a nice comfy parachute to sit your arse on for an hour or so..'
A raised eyebrow responded 'So we're heading back down south then? Losses must be higher than they're admitting..'
'When was that news Tommy? If the public knew the truth - that if Hitler hadn't switched from airfields and RDF stations to bombing London we'd have been out of action in the first ten days, unable to use the runways and then bombed into submission..'
Winslow held up a hand 'You're preaching to the converted Skip.. I just thought we might have had a more accurate view ourselves..'
Ashton shrugged 'Ours not to reason why, ours just to fight and fly..'
Winslow chuckled at the misquote 'Nicely put.. OK I'll go check my kite.. take off in what.. fifteen minutes?'
Ashton nodded and turned away to the accommodation block, entering his room and packing up his kit into a kitbag, knowing Alf Bretherton would get one of the erks to go through the officers' quarters and load everything onto one of the lorries for the journey down south to Tangmere.
Leaving the block Ashton glanced up at the sky and scowled; the gathering clouds were hastening the dark of the evening and he knew they'd have to get moving quickly if they were to make the flight before dusk. Approaching Dispersal he called 'Sar'nt Powell! How's my tail wheel looking?'
Bending over the wheel assembly of Ashton's Hurricane, Powell winced muttering under his breath 'Bugger! He made good time!'
Eyeing the work in progress Ashton waited as Powell straightened up, stretching to work a couple of kinks out of his back, then walking over towards him, wiping his hands on a spare piece of rag. 'Sorry if I surprised you Flight.. made good time didn't we?'
The inflection wasn't lost on Powell and he coughed 'Yes sir.. well the rudder is sorted..'
He smiled brightly but Ashton wasn't fooled, replying in a slow drawl 'Yes.. and the tail wheel?'
Powell eyed the arched eyebrow 'Well sir.. you said “By the time we get back”.. and.. well.. we thought you'd be walking..'
Casting a glance at the work still feverishly underway Ashton looked thoughtful 'So.. another half hour then?' Powell nodded.
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Leitner stopped whistling and stood up quickly, cracking his head on the edge of the open engine cowling 'Ach.. verdammt.. schiesse..' Clutching the crown of his head he turned to Alfelt 'Almost finished Herr Major..' Examining his fingers Leitner winced and wiped the blood off on the backside of his overalls.
'Good.. glad to hear it Franz..' Alfelt bit his lip indicating Leitner's fingers 'Sorry about your head..'
'I've had worse' Leitner grumbled good-naturedly, turning to one of the ground crew he shouted 'Close it up and give it a test..' The mechanic ran over and pulled down the cowling securing it before another jumped up onto the wing and stepped over the side of the cockpit sitting down on the parachute. Leaning his head over the side of the cockpit he called 'Contact!' while pressing the starter on the control panel. One of the others swung the propeller. A cough from the engine accompanied by a belch of smoke from the exhausts and it died.
Leitner scowled 'Do it again!' Alfelt, standing to one side, glanced at him, halfway between annoyance at the delay and amusement at Leitner's reaction. The pair at his Messerschmitt flicked their eyes nervously over at Leitner, starting from the beginning; this time as the propeller swung it was accompanied by a roar as the Daimler Benz ignition fired and the propeller picked up speed. Alfelt put his fingers in his ears and yelled at Leitner.
'It's a bit noisier than I'm used to from inside!'
Leitner nodded, put two fingers in his ears and whistled loudly; at his signal the engine was cut with the propeller slowing down and coming to a standstill. 'I think we'll call that a success Herr Major!'
Alfelt smiled clapping him on the shoulder 'Yes indeed.. Good work Franz!'
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As the last of the vehicles disappeared through the main gates - a Morris flatbed laden with a pair of wings, the Hurricane itself in tow - Ashton looked around the emptying airfield. A gathering rumble in the sky caught his ear and he peered up into the gathering gloom, his experienced eyes searching 'Ahah!' A series of dots low down slowly resolved themselves into what his ears - having picked up the distinctive growl of Rolls-Royce Merlin engines - had already told him. One by one they became a squadron of Spitfires; Ashton scowled as he counted 'Seven.. dammit they've taken a mauling!' Circling the airfield they landed one by one and Ashton trotted over to the lead aircraft as it came to a halt.
'Good God! Johnny Ashton! They still letting you out to play old man?'
At the shout from the cockpit Ashton stopped and grinned broadly 'What amazes me is they let you fly to start with Banjo you old fraud!'
The newcomer climbed down from the aircraft and shook his hand warmly. 'Good to see you too!'
Ashton glanced at his watch and swore 'Sorry Banjo.. got to dash or I'll never get back to Tangmere tonight! We must have a drink next time you're back down south!'
The younger officer growled 'We'll need time to rebuild before we're back in action Johnny.. anyway.. I'll let you get off!' The pair saluted each other and Ashton turned away shouting for Powell to get his Hurricane fired up.
Ashton ran over to Dispersal where Powell's crew had his Hurricane running with one of the erks lying across the tail while he climbed in. Powell strapped him tight into his Sutton harness while he plugged in his oxygen tube and R/T cable. A thought occurred and he shouted over the engine.
'How are you going to get to Tangmere?'
Powell smiled and pointed behind them to a single lorry Ashton had missed being loaded with kitbags and equipment 'That's our bus sir!'
Ashton nodded, as Powell backed off and jumped from the wing; the weight shifted as the erk jumped down from the tail; another pulled the wooden chocks from in front of the wheels, and he pushed the throttle forward, jamming the stick between his knees to give him a free hand and slid the cockpit canopy closed. The engine noise and buffeting abated immediately, although the roar of the engine was still of course evident, and he turned into the wind, opening the throttle fully; as the tail lifted and rumble from the wheels ceased, Ashton eased back on the stick and turned southeast simultaneously pulling the undercarriage control up to retract it and easing the flaps back into their flying position. As he gained height he flicked his R/T to transmit 'Impi Leader to Wicket.. flight of one heading south.'
The reply was almost instantaneous 'Wicket to Impi Leader.. received and understood.. safe journey boy..'
Ashton smiled at the 'boy' 'Thank you Wicket, Impi out..'
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Alfelt settled into the cockpit and pulled the canopy over, latching it securely at the side. He grinned recalling Leitner's unhappy look when he announced that the best test of the engine would be to take it for a test flight, but did not voice his objection. Linking his fingers together he stretched the leather of his gloves over his fingers, dropping the left hand to the throttle and easing it forward slowly. As the engine note climbed he smiled; Leitner had done a good job and it sounded better than ever.
Using the rudder pedals he weaved side to side making sure there was no obstruction in front of the aircraft and then opened the throttle fully; careful not to overdo it - the 109 was all too easy for an overeager pilot to tip onto its nose - he felt rather than saw the plane come up to flying speed and eased the stick back before climbing to altitude. As the 109 climbed through the gathering gloom he broke through into the final rays of the day and smiled at the privilege flying gave him to enjoy the fiery glow as it dipped below the horizon. His breathing slowed as he relaxed and settled into the test flight.
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Ashton took his time to make a slow circuit of Tangmere, lowering his undercarriage and setting the flaps before turning into the wind on approach. With a bump the wheels touched the ground and he taxied over to the Dispersal; as he jumped out he greeted the unfamiliar ground crew waiting for him. A corporal saluted 'Evening sir.. we'll sort her out for you!' At his quizzical look '213 squadron sir.. Hurris too.. she'll be in safe hands until your lads arrive to take over..'
Ashton smiled 'Thank you Corporal.. can you point me to where my lot have gone?'
The corporal pointed over to a small block of buildings where Ashton knew the Officers' Mess to be; he laughed 'I thought they'd be over the Anglesey Arms by now!' The Georgian brick public house in Halnaker was less than two miles away and had been a squadron favourite prior to their transfer.
The corporal coughed, unsuccessfully hiding a smile 'Yes sir well umm.. Mr Winslow I think it was who said to head to the Mess..'
Arching an eyebrow Ashton grinned 'Did he now? Oh well.. thank you Corporal!' With that he headed off to find the rest of the squadron.
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The following morning Alfelt arose early and having dressed, walked over to the Intelligence section. On the way he glanced up noting the weather front had shifted and the day although cool had dawned bright and sunny 'No more delays then..' he muttered quietly to himself. As he entered he glanced around at the map-strewn walls. A Hauptmann straightened up from the central table, where he had been leaning over the main tactical map, and saluted. 'Guten morgen Herr Major..'
Alfelt nodded and jerked his head at the map 'When?'
Glancing at his watch the Hauptmann replied '1100 hours.' Alfelt nodded and left the room.
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Ashton sat in the deckchair to the side of his Hurricane grumbling. 'Awake at sparrow fart and all we've had is "B Flight stand down" and "Tea's up!" For God's sake..' A wary eye at the horizon 'Perfect weather.. what is Jerry playing at?'
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Unknown to him the ramrod straight figure of Air Vice Marshal Park was voicing exactly the same feelings, albeit couched in more diplomatic terms. Looking down on the situation board at Uxbridge, the 11 Group HQ of Fighter Command he pursed his lips in annoyance. Suddenly a telephone rang to his side and a wing commander grabbed it 'Yes? Right thank you..' Replacing the receiver he turned to Park 'Big one forming over the Pas-de-Calais', he pointed below where WAAFs were busily moving counters on the room sized map of the British Isles.
Park merely nodded in response to the unspoken question. The wing commander picked up the telephone and relayed the information to Tangmere Sector Controller where it looked as though the raid would come in.
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'SQUADRON SCRAMBLE!'
The relief was palpable - Ashton hated waiting - as he threw aside the newspaper he had been - largely ignoring if he were truthful - and climbed into the Hurricane, taking his flying helmet off the gunsight where he had left it hanging. With the R/T and oxygen already connected all he had to do was let an erk strap him in tightly, close the canopy and start up. Within a minute he was taxying across the grass, and glancing back he could see the whole squadron behind him. As they got airborne he raised the controller on the R/T 'Beetle, Impi Leader.. airborne.. what do you have for us?'
The reply came back 'Impi, this is Beetle.. trade for you.. Angels fifteen.. bearing 240.. 80 plus mixed bag of Stukas and 109s..'
Ashton nodded to himself 'Impi Leader, acknowledged, Out.' He paused 'Leader to all Impis, bearing 240, make for Angels seventeen. Mixed bag of Stukas and 109s.. keep your eyes peeled!'
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At Uxbridge the status indicator for 43 squadron lit up for 'Airborne.' The wing commander at Park's side muttered 'Ventnor' but the older man declined to respond, instead ordering ‘Get on to 12 Group.. tell them Tangmere needs protecting while their squadrons are airborne.’
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Oblivious to the fact his premonition had come true Alfelt nervously glanced at his instruments, and threw a glance over his shoulder at his wingman. He tapped his R/T control to transmit 'All Wolves keep your eyes peeled..' Ever since they had taken off earlier he had been unable to shake a feeling of disquiet and he usually trusted his instincts.
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'Break and attack!' Ashton grinned, the early spotting of the incoming formation had allowed his squadron to come around and approach them from the sun. Having spilt his forces into two, B Flight went for the Stukas whilst he took A Flight into the fighter cover of 109s. He lined up carefully on the leader of the formation below 'Steady now John.. don't spook him..' He waited until he had closed the gap further.
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AT Uxbridge the indicator previously having moved to 'Enemy Sighted' now became 'Enemy Contacted'
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Some instinct made Alfelt glance behind him and he swore at the sight of a Hurricane bearing down on him rapidly, and without being aware of it slammed the stick forward knowing it would gain him a second or so. At the same instant he shouted 'All Wolves, enemy six o'clock high! Break and attack!'
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Ashton swore as his target suddenly dropped and he quickly rolled the Hurricane onto its back to continue the pursuit. Regaining his target he thumbed the gun switch and a burst rent the air ahead of his target.
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'Schiesse! This one is good!' Alfelt kicked the rudder hard over and pulled back into a steep turning climb, realising at the same time his aircraft had been hit.
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Ashton grinned 'Too bad chum.. don't you know the Hurricane turns tighter?' He flipped his R/T switch 'Don't touch this one boys.. he's mine!'
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Alfelt was all too aware of the situation he was in, and of the skill of the pilot now on his tail. A second burst just missed the port wing and instinctively he knew the angle the fire had come from. A glance in the mirror told him his pursuer almost had him in his sights. 'Time for desperate measures Johann!'
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'What the hell?' Instead of continuing the turn the 109 ahead of him had rolled onto it's opposite side and curved in a tight turn - he judged almost at stalling speed - in an attempt to get on his tail. He mirrored the manoeuvre almost blacking out, coming out of the turn nose to nose with the Messerschmitt. He opened fire.
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'Verdammt! Was?' Stunned at the skill of his opponent Alfelt thumbed his gun button instinctively.
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The two combatants closed with a combined speed of almost 700 miles an hour, pieces of metal and fabric flying off both.