<link href="style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css"/> <meta content="urn:uuid:5f94e297-820e-41f5-84e7-a31198c4feff" name="Adept.expected.resource"/> </head> <body> <div id="c48"> <p class="figure"><img alt="" src="images/comm.jpg"/></p> <p class="chap">Chapter 48</p> <p class="c1"><i>September 1918</i></p> <p class="extract"><b><span class="drop">T</span>he weather remained stable, and for the most part the Fees had been retired, picked up for domestic use by the United States Air Service, or sent to air depot graves.</b> Bombing power increased as a smaller number of giant O/400s ferried larger amounts of explosives over to German targets. All of this meant that the Vicar and Howie had been busy in the air most days since the beginning of the month. One evening, the mess was a hive of activity as they arrived after a raid, the other aviators having a night free.</p> <p class="indent">Howie stepped up to the bar, while the Vicar strolled over to the corner table where I was glancing through a newspaper. I chortled, “Hello, Vic. Was it lonely being the single aircraft flying over to Metz tonight?”</p> <p class="indent">“Bobby, how are you? Thanks to your chaps for seeing us in safely.”</p> <p class="indent">“Pleasure is mine, Vic. Successful?”</p> <p class="indent">“Uh-huh. Sixteen 112-pounders on the railway leading into the station will keep them busy with repairs. I know the kaiser wants his bloody line kept open to Berlin, but why don’t they just give up the ghost, eh?”</p> <p class="indent">“Speaking of the kaiser, I’m hearing the Austrians want to sue for peace, but he won’t have it.”</p> <p class="indent">“What maniacal mind would keep throwing men at a losing cause? The rumor is that he is dragging convalescents and Spanish flu victims out of hospitals and sending them to the front.”</p> <p class="indent">Listening as he arrived with three pints, Howie interjected, “Terrible business. We’re pushing them hard north of here, and they’re ceding ground at Amiens and Bapaume, but still their generals remain stubborn.”</p> <p class="indent">“And the Americans were successfully engaged at St. Mihiel in a similar vein,” added Vic.</p> <p class="indent">Vic and Howie were really wound up, and I fed their egos. “Not to mention the hate you two are raining down on their transport capabilities.”</p> <p class="indent">“Thanks, Bobby, but somehow they seem to recover in short order.”</p> <p class="indent">I sipped my ale, pondering the perspective of the Germans. They were with little food and supplies, but still able to keep their airfields and railways operational after our continual bombing onslaughts. “Say, what of Jamieson? I saw you subbed Blakemore in as gunner tonight?”</p> <p class="indent">“Jamieson’s a trooper. He rode with us on the Handley straight through until tonight,” said Vic.</p> <p class="indent">Howie put down his glass, quick to intercede. “Even troopers get tired, though.”</p> <p class="indent">I thought about how tired I myself had become while flying last spring, night after night in a wood-and-fabric aeroplane, on watch for enemy aircraft and Archie shrapnel through weather that played havoc, or mechanical hiccups that constantly gnawed at my nerves. The spraying arc of gunfire that chopped down the enemy from five hundred feet was merciless, injuring and maiming in open spaces or killing them, if they were lucky. Only that unique soldier, the one who flew on those sorties, would ever truly know the horror and the success wrapped into the same bundle of emotion. Yes, the term <i>trooper </i>was appropriate.</p> <p class="indent">The Vicar looked over at me, compassion in his smile. “You all right, Bob?”</p> <p class="indent">“Oh, yes, yes. Just thinking about ole Scottie Jamieson. Hope he’s not burning out.”</p> <p class="indent">“He’s grounded for now, I’m afraid,” said the Vicar. “Blunt thing is he can’t properly protect our rear when he’s tired, run down as it were.” He drew himself in closer to the table, which Howie and I instinctively followed, somehow knowing there was to be secrecy. “The inaugural Frankfort raid is due to proceed in a few days. We’re just waiting to hear from London. We need a seasoned gunner for a sortie of that magnitude.”</p> <p class="indent">I was feeling a bit defensive of myself. “Well, there’s any number of qualified observers—Segner, Pascoe, and Shillinglaw for instance.”</p> <p class="indent">“Sure, there is a pool,” said Howie, “but it all depends on their condition and availability. This will be a long, arduous journey, and we need the right gunner.”</p> <p class="indent">The Vicar wore a knowing look and canny grin. “We’ll see how things pan out.”</p> <p class="star">. . .</p> <p class="nonindent">Daisy and Eric’s letter was a boost I needed, full of compassion, love, humor, and understanding. It wasn’t that letters from home didn’t offer those, but theirs provided a different level of understanding, one that only a shared love for Cissy could grasp. Due to the pain, I had decided not to tell anyone in the family about my relationship until after the war. If at all.</p> <div class="block"> <p class="extract"><i>13 September, 1918</i></p> <p class="extract"><i>My Dearest Cousins Daisy and Eric,</i></p> <p class="indent"><i>I was elated to have received your letter dated 25 August, finally catching up to me at a new aerodrome. Being located ever more easterly than at any time in this war is certainly a good sign of our progress. To see the end of the conflict this year would be heaven sent.</i></p> <p class="indent"><i>It was so heartfelt of you to inquire after my health, especially my frame of mind. Daisy, you mentioned you were beginning to accept Cissy’s death, replacing it with fond memories of who she was instead of what she could have been. I feel I, too, am beginning to remember her in that manner. Although I miss her in the most infinite way, I feel lucky to have been touched by such a loving soul. She will never be far from my thoughts.</i></p> <p class="indent"><i>Thank you for visiting the gravesite at St. Mary’s Attenborough and for remembering me to Cissy. You describe such a peaceful setting with the tree canopy and flower gardens I know she adored. I will visit myself just as soon as I am able.</i></p> <p class="indent"><i>Eric, it is wonderful that you have been re-employed at the newspaper, and getting your old job back as development editor is tops! As I remember from Walthamstow, you would sit up nights writing and writing. We had such a creative household between music, writing, and that bit of cabinet making. Our current reality makes one appreciate those times when we had such enviable choices.</i></p> <p class="indent"><i>I laughed at the image you described of young Stanley marching up and down your street as an officer of our King’s army. I am pleased, Eric, that you and I had such an impact. I only hope and pray he never has to fight for the liberty we are struggling to protect. May this be the war that ends all conflict. Please give my youngest cousin a great-big, loving squeeze for me.</i></p> <p class="indent"><i>Well, my dearest cousins, I must sign off now with a promise to visit just as soon as any leave is granted. I am not holding my breath since, in this latest push, all British, French, and American soldiers are engaged to the fullest. May this then be the final surge to victory!</i></p> <p class="extract"><i>Yours with love,</i></p> <p class="nonindent"><i>Bob</i></p> </div> </div> </body> </html>