Ted Thorrington, who had been baptised Edward but had never answered to it, had always known this day would come. He’d taken advantage of the government’s subsidised flying lessons and had his licence when he was seventeen. He’d been about to start his studies at Cambridge – architecture – but had volunteered for the RAF instead.
Here he was, eighteen months later, hundreds of hours of flying time in his logbook and just promoted to Flying Officer. The only downside was the fact that he couldn’t continue to fly his beloved Spitfire but was being posted to Manston – on the Kent coast near Ramsgate – to join a squadron of Hurricanes.
First, he’d had to travel to the factory at Martlesham Heath to collect the new kite and then, with his kitbag rammed under the seat in the cramped cockpit, he’d flown to his new base and landed perfectly – it wouldn’t have been a good start if he’d pranged his new Hurry.
He taxied from the massive runway onto the apron and parked neatly beside the squadron he’d been sent to join – he’d checked whilst in the air which one was depleted – so was confident he’d come to the right place. He unclipped his harness and, by the time he’d done that, two ground crew had clambered onto the wings and released the hatch.
‘Blimey, that were impressive, sir. We never expected you until this evening. I’m Jim, this other bloke is Fred. We’ll be taking care of you and your Hurry.’
The speaker was somewhat grizzled so couldn’t be a volunteer – he must be a regular. Fred, on the other hand, was a fresh-faced youth with crooked teeth and a broad grin.
‘Good to meet you. I’m Ted Thorrington, a Flying Officer to boot. But call me Ted – not keen on the formalities.’
He manoeuvred his long length from the cockpit, turned and reached in to grab his kitbag, then slid down the wing to the ground. This was his first active posting. Although he’d footled about a bit doing mock dogfights in a Spit, he’d yet to experience the real thing. He didn’t understand why he’d been promoted when he was so inexperienced but wasn’t going to argue with his superiors.
‘It’s a bleeding long way from the apron to the admin block, Ted, you’ll need a bicycle. Doubt you’ll find one for love nor money on this base.’ Jim smiled happily as he walked around the brand-new kite. It was by far the best Hurry in this squadron and Ted had a nasty suspicion someone would try to pinch it from him. ‘You get driven over and collected but if you want to go to the stores or such you’ll have to walk or nab someone’s bike.’
Fred pointed to a distant huddle of brick buildings. ‘I reckon you know there’s only a couple of squadrons of Hurries and of Blenheims – bloody awful kites they are – permanently stationed here.’
‘I do, so I expect to be kept busy. Things aren’t too rosy across the Channel for our boys. God help those flying the Fairy Battles – even worse than the Blenheims.’
He left the two ground crew happily inspecting their new kite, slung his kitbag over his shoulder, and set off at a brisk march towards the distant buildings. The sun was hot on his back and he was sweating and flushed when he eventually stepped into the admin block to make himself known.
After dumping his bag in a corner of the immaculate vestibule, Ted rummaged in his pocket for a handkerchief and mopped his face. It must have been a mile from where he’d parked and he was somewhat overdressed as he was wearing his greatcoat – it was too bulky to shove in with the other stuff.
Hastily he removed the coat and carefully folded it and put it on top of his bag. He liked things tidy – unlike some of the chaps he’d been billeted with. His mother, sadly no longer alive, had said he was born old as he never wanted to go out and get dirty, break things, fight or do what the other youngsters of his age did.
Fortunately, he’d got a scholarship to the grammar school, where order and discipline were paramount. He was about to go in search of a WC so he could spruce himself up a bit before he met the CO, Wing Commander Fielding, when someone yelled his name.
‘Thorrington, I expect you could do with a beer. Bloody hot out there today. The Officers’ Mess is at the rear of this building. I’ll join you there in a bit. Welcome to Manston, young man.’
Ted wasn’t sure to whom this voice belonged but guessed it was probably his commanding officer.
‘I’m glad to be here, sir, and a beer is exactly what I’d like, but first I’d like to know where my billet is and get myself squared away.’
A corporal appeared from one of the offices. ‘I’m Cpl Brown, sir, I’ll take you to your accommodation.’
As expected, he was sharing with another junior officer. The room was immaculate, nothing out of place, but he didn’t know if this was because there was an efficient orderly or because the man he was to share with liked things the same way he did.
There was sink with a shaving mirror above it but no sign of the other flyer’s gear. Ted was about to begin his unpacking when an eager young ACW2, the lowest rank possible in the RAF, appeared at the open door.
‘I’ll do that for you, sir, that’s my job. I’m Sid, I look after you and Pilot Officer Bird. You’ll find your squadron in the bar. It’s the first time they’ve not been on duty for a week.’
Ted was reluctant to leave his belongings in the hands of this painfully young airman, but the chap seemed to take pride in his job if the room was anything to go by.
‘Then I’ll leave you to it, Sid. Give me ten minutes and then come back. I just want to wash the grime of my flight from my person.’
‘Righty-ho, sir. The ablutions are at the end of the corridor. Lovely and sparkling clean, they are, if I say so myself.’
In less than the ten minutes he’d allowed himself, Ted was satisfied he now looked presentable. He might well be one of the youngest flyers on the base, as he didn’t reach his twentieth birthday until July. He didn’t mind too much being the youngest, but he wasn’t happy about being the least experienced, which was certain to be true. Replacing a flyer who’d gone for a Burton wasn’t ideal, either.
He couldn’t hang about in here, the quicker he introduced himself and got to know the men he’d be flying with from tomorrow – or possibly sooner, if the order to scramble came – the better.
Millie didn’t need the alarm clock to wake up at six, she was up and dressed when it rang noisily. Di groaned, yawned loudly and rolled out of bed.
‘You’re keen. How long have you been ready?’
‘I was up at dawn. I could hear the puppy whining so decided to take him out for a stroll. He was overjoyed to see me and was quite happy to return to his bed in Joanna’s sitting room afterwards.’
‘I expect he’ll be outside more than he’s in once he’s bigger, and we’ll have to be careful he doesn’t follow us to the base.’
‘Di, hurry up. We don’t want to be late on our first morning. I riddled the Aga and put the kettle on – I expect it’ll be boiling now. I’m not sure when Betty starts, but I think the twins will be down by now.’ Having something practical to do had kept her jitters at bay. Starting anything new was a challenge but she was determined to rise to it.
Millie left her friend to complete her morning routine and headed for the kitchen, where she could hear voices. She hesitated, not sure if she should knock, but then decided it wasn’t necessary.
‘Good morning, Joe, Liza, isn’t it a glorious day? I took Lazzy out an hour ago but I didn’t feed him as I wasn’t sure what you gave him for breakfast.’
‘Ta ever so, miss, I reckon he was busting. No nasty surprises left in the sitting room for me to clear up,’ the boy said with a happy smile.
Liza pointed to the central table, which now had a floral tablecloth stretched across the middle. Last night there had been a smart white damask one. ‘You don’t have to do nothing in here, miss, it ain’t your job, it’s mine. But ta anyway.’
Joe took the puppy outside with him whilst he got on with the feeding of the chickens, geese and ducks. Millie noticed that there was a little grey mare turned out in the paddock so he wouldn’t have a stable to muck out this morning.
She realised, when Di emerged, that she didn’t know a great deal about her friend – for some reason, they hadn’t shared a lot of personal details during the three months they’d spent together. ‘Do you ride, Di?’
‘No, we didn’t keep horses. I do like cats, but so far haven’t seen one.’
‘We’ve got Sooty what lives outside and keeps the rats and mice down. Don’t have any house cats,’ Liza told them as she expertly cut bread for their toast whilst watching a pan of boiling eggs.
After a filling breakfast, Millie and Di set off in good time, gas masks and tin hats dangling from their straps over one shoulder, haversack with their bits and pieces over the other. ‘Have you got your irons? I didn’t bring mine as we won’t need cutlery to eat a sandwich,’ Millie said.
‘I hope you’ve got your mug? We’ll need it if we want a drink. I wonder if there’s a NAAFI van? I’d think they’d have something that toured the far reaches of the base as the mechanics and ground crew can’t really trek back and forth just to get something to eat.’
‘I didn’t see one yesterday, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one somewhere. The pilots have to be close to their aircraft if they’re on duty and they have to eat as well.’ Millie thought it odd that she walked faster than her friend, even though she was a few inches shorter than her. Therefore, she took the lead on the narrow path.
‘Golly, that’s a blow. The gate appears to be locked and the guard isn’t there to open it for us. Not much point in having him, or the gate, if he’s not there when we want to get in.’
They rattled the gate, but the padlock was firmly attached. Millie stared up at the fence. ‘It doesn’t have any barbed wire on the top. We can climb over easily enough using the gate as we can put our feet in the gaps.’
Di laughed. ‘Not that easy to climb anything in a skirt and stockings. Thank god our knickers are knee-length – at least we won’t show anything we shouldn’t if we happen to be seen.’
Millie joined in the laughter. ‘I’m tempted to take my skirt and jacket off, roll them round my gas mask and tin hat and then throw the lot over first. Although the admin block isn’t that far away, we’re screened behind that hedge, and I don’t think anyone would see us – there won’t be that many around at this time of the morning.’
‘Let’s do it – we don’t have a queen bee here to put us on a charge if we are caught. I can’t see any RAF objecting to a flash of our twilights.’ Twilights were the hideous knee-length bloomers worn in the summer months. Di pointed to their unflattering beige lisle stockings. ‘These had better come off too – they might well get laddered and it wouldn’t do to be improperly dressed.’
A few minutes later, Millie was bare-legged, only in her shirt, knickers and, incongruously, her cap still firmly pinned to her head. Di, taller and stronger, threw the bundles over the gate. She underestimated her strength and both cloth parcels disappeared into the hedge.
‘Sorry, old girl, that wasn’t clever. I’ll go over first and retrieve them – if anyone’s going to be seen, it should be me, as it’s my fault.’
Before Millie could prevent her, Di was halfway up the gate and had her leg over the top. This left her with a dilemma, as without a bunk-up she wouldn’t be able to reach the first foothold. Di swung to the ground and rushed off to find the parcels, her twilights a flash of colour in the early morning sunshine.
Nothing for it – she’d just have to attempt to scramble up without assistance and hope she didn’t get stuck. After several attempts, Millie somehow managed to get herself almost halfway up. She was clinging on for dear life – climbing and heights were not something she was particularly good at.
The top of the gate seemed alarmingly high, at least another foot above her fingertips. The only way she was going to get her hands on the top, so she could lever herself over, was to risk taking her toes from the relatively safe position they were in at the moment and inch her way up.
There was no sign of Di, but she could hear her moving about in the bushes a few yards away. She must be getting dressed before she emerged and she didn’t blame her one jot. The only problem with this was that, once dressed, she could hardly ask her to undress again in order to assist her over the top of the gate.
Millie was pretty sure it must be almost seven o’clock so there was only half an hour left before they had to be present and correct at the adjutant’s office. She steadied her breathing, closed her eyes, which perhaps wasn’t the most sensible thing to do, and launched herself upwards.
Ted crept out of his shared room and headed for the ablutions. It would be easier to shave in there and thus not wake up his companion. Pilot Officer Dickie Bird – his actual name was Tom – had proved a decent sort of chap but was obviously a heavy drinker. The smell of beer wafting from the other side of the bedroom was another reason for vacating the space.
There was a window in the passageway and he glanced sideways and almost tripped over his feet in shock. He blinked and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. No – there was definitely a semi-clothed WAAF attempting to climb over the gate!
He dumped his wash bag in the bathroom, hoped it wasn’t stolen in his absence, and then pushed the window up and jumped out. God knows what the girl was up to – but she was quite obviously stuck and, without his assistance, would be hideously embarrassed when more bods were around.
‘Stay where you are, miss, I’ll climb up and get you.’ He hadn’t shouted as he didn’t want to draw attention to the young lady’s predicament. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen him approaching as she’d had her eyes firmly shut. At his voice, she gave a despairing cry and toppled headfirst from the top of the gate.
He did what any gentleman would do and broke her fall. He didn’t exactly catch her, but she certainly had a softer landing than would otherwise have been the case. She wasn’t heavy but still managed to flatten him.
‘I say, that was a damn good show. Well done, sir. Millie, are you all right? You’ve got to get dressed before anybody else sees you.’ The speaker was another WAAF, taller and correctly dressed, and she had the most spectacular blue eyes and a charming smile.
The girl who’d fallen on him finally reacted. ‘I do beg your pardon. You startled me and like an idiot I let go.’ She scrambled off his chest, snatched what was obviously a bundle of clothes, and vanished, like a sprite with copper hair and very unflattering blue bloomers, into the bushes, leaving him to speak to her companion.
When she offered her hand to pull him to his feet, he didn’t hesitate. The girl was strong and capable and he was upright in seconds. He smiled at her and raised an eyebrow.
‘I know, it seems quite ridiculous now. We thought the gate would be open as it was yesterday and hadn’t left enough time to walk along the fence and in through the main gate. We couldn’t climb over fully dressed.’
There was a slight sound beside him and the girl he’d rescued drifted up looking immaculate, considering minutes ago, she’d been in her underwear. ‘Are we going to be put on a charge, sir?’
She looked genuinely concerned and for a moment he didn’t understand. Good god, he was an officer, and they were the lowest rank. They must be the new drivers everybody was talking about last night.
‘I’m Ted Thorrington, I wouldn’t know how to put you on a charge even if I wanted to.’
‘I’m Millie Cunningham and this is my friend, Di Forsyth. We’re very pleased to meet you, but please excuse us as we’ve got to run or we’ll be late. Why wasn’t the soldier there to let us in?’
‘Soldier? Was there one yesterday?’
The other girl replied. ‘There certainly was, although I did think it a waste of manpower having him standing there.’
‘God knows who posted him there, but I doubt he’ll be there again. I’m glad you got over relatively safely.’
Millie smiled, making her look even prettier, and pointed to the stubble on his chin. ‘Now, you’re the one improperly dressed. I hope you don’t get put on a charge.’
He had almost nil experience with the fairer sex but even he knew this girl was something special. He would make sure he somehow bumped into her again as he really wanted to get to know her.
They ran away, laughing, and he returned to his accommodation via the same route he’d exited. Despite arriving headfirst in the passageway in front of two chaps on their way to the bogs, they just nodded and walked past, engrossed in their conversation.
His wash bag was where he’d left it and, after shaving, he returned it to his room to find Dickie half-dressed and looking a bit green about the gills.
‘Too much beer last night – damn lucky we’re not on duty until lunchtime. Be a good fellow and order me the biggest breakfast available. They cook it fresh so by the time it’s ready I’ll be there.’
‘I was impressed by the food in the mess last night. Is it always as good and as plentiful?’
‘Top hole when off duty, but nothing hot when we’re hanging about waiting to be scrambled. Just tea and a wad from the NAFFI van. Sandwiches and cake doesn’t fill a chap up like a proper hot meal. We get one when we come off duty.’
‘Then I’d better eat before we trundle over there. I wasn’t expecting to be on duty halfway through the day. We have to be on call from dawn to dusk – so why this midday business?’
Whilst he’d been talking, Dickie had got himself dressed but still looked decidedly groggy. If he was his commanding officer, then he wouldn’t let him fly in this state – maybe his companion would recover fast once he’d eaten.
‘We haven’t had any time off for a week so got half a day to compensate.’
‘Right. I’ll see you in the mess, Dickie, if I can find my way there.’
For some reason, he hadn’t mentioned the two girls and his part in their unconventional arrival. He rather wanted to keep this information to himself.