Back to Battle (40 page)

By this time, the blackout had been partially lifted and they seemed to be waiting only for the last dying kicks of the Nazi regime. Despised by his soldiers, hated by the Germans and succoured only by the sycophants of his court, Hitler clearly hadn’t much longer to reign.

Only an occasional German aircraft appeared, sneaking across in the dark to drop anti-personnel bombs, whose sole purpose seemed to be the killing of inquisitive children. There had been a certain amount of euphoric reaction after the race across France and Belgium and a certain slackening of effort, but it had soon been realised after Arnhem, that whatever Hitler’s position, the German army at least was far from finished. Short of men and short of fuel, it was still highly professional and still managed to produce resistance where there should have been none; incredibly, in the middle of December, it even managed to launch an offensive in the Ardennes.

Kelly had to spend Christmas in France, and by then the alarm about the Ardennes had dispersed, because the Germans were clearly going to be defeated and with defeat would come the final collapse. Boyle had managed to get his parents-in-law into a house near Amiens and they all went there for Christmas Day, eating and drinking what everybody openly admitted was black market food. For the New Year Kelly flew to London with Verschoyle and went to Thakeham feeling like a bridegroom. He’d seen remarkably little of Charley since his marriage and was pleased to see the house had become gracious once more under her touch.

The New Year went well but on January 2nd, when they were all a little euphoric at the news that the Germans were in retreat in the Ardennes, Verschoyle rang up.

‘You’ve lost your boss,’ he said. ‘Ramsay’s dead.’

‘Dead?’ Kelly said. ‘How?’

‘He was flying from Toussus-le-Noble to see Monty. They crashed on take-off. Nobody seems to know why. The sky was cloudless and they got up to about three hundred feet then side slipped in and burst into flames. Perhaps the cold had something to do with it.’

Flying back to France for the funeral, Kelly walked behind Cunningham and Eisenhower. The accident threw more work on his shoulders and he found he had little opportunity to go to England again. Nothing seemed to have come of Corbett’s suggestion about the Far East and he’d heard that Philip Vian had got the job.

He felt no resentment. He’d had a good innings. Most boys entering Dartmouth dropped out before they’d reached commander and the number who achieved their broad stripe was very small. He’d been extraordinarily lucky. From being in danger of vanishing into limbo as a passed-over commander in 1936 he was now a rear-admiral. With the war drawing to its end, however, he could expect little more.

Latimer didn’t seem to agree. “‘Self-love is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting,”’ he said. ‘“Henry V.” It’s as bad to be over-modest, sir, as it is to be over-bold. You need have no fear. They won’t let you go yet.’

Kelly grinned. ‘When I retire, William, I think you’d better join me as resident minstrel.’

Latimer grinned back. ‘I expect to see you admiral of the fleet before I die, sir.’

As it happened, what Latimer had said came home within days. Verschoyle arrived in a SHAPE car driven by an American WAAC driver who looked as though she’d left a good job as a Hollywood starlet to join the war.

‘Where did you pick her?’ Kelly asked.

‘With the Americans,’ Verschoyle said, ‘they come in bunches of a dozen. I think they breed ’em in litters, because they always seem to find enough to decorate headquarters.’

He was fishing in his brief case, deliberately brisk and, pulling out a signal flimsy, he looked up.

‘Kelly, old son,’ he said. ‘You’re for home.’

‘What have I done?’

‘Not what you’ve done. What you’re about to do. We still have to sort out those little yellow bastards in Japan. The Yanks have finally agreed to help us organise a task force for the Pacific and Winston’s determined to get into the act on political grounds, so that when it’s over he’ll have some say in what happens to the peace.’

‘And–?’

‘You’ll be ordered to strike your flag and go home to help set it up. With a step up in rank. I’ve come to warn you not to get too much involved in this job.’

The promotion came as Verschoyle predicted and with it the news that he was to get a KCB. It brought an immediate signal from Verschoyle. ‘Twice knightly. You always were one to overdo it.’

In the same gazette, Kelly was pleased to see that Verschoyle had finally made rear admiral. With his skill, knowledge and technical ability, it was something he deserved.

He flew home on leave, half-expecting to be called to the Admiralty, but there was no sign that anyone had even noticed him and he spent his leave in a curious frame of mind, tense because he was expecting his new post, and frustrated because it didn’t arrive.

‘There’s something in the wind, isn’t there, Kelly?’ Charley said.

He nodded, wondering how she’d take the news he brought. She was still not quite the old Charley as if she’d been too much hurt and was wary of giving too freely.

The pain of Paddy’s death was dying at last and it was Charley who was helping it to go. When he felt most stricken and shivering at the thought, she was there to take his mind off her, almost as if she were Paddy.

But while the old undemanding warmth had returned, there was something else too. Sometimes she drew a vast breath that seemed to hurt as it filled her lungs, and he never knew whether it was relief or anguish. Women never seemed to have full control over their hearts and even the most intelligent seemed to have a small exposed spot, which was never secure. It was a draining, weakening thought that he could still not be sure of her and he knew he was not very patient at studying areas which he knew nothing about.

‘You’re going back to sea,’ she said slowly.

He looked up, unsure of her. ‘Do you mind, Charley?’

She stared at him, her eyes frank. ‘No woman likes to see her man disappear into the blue,’ she said. ‘I never did. But it is different now, Kelly.’

‘It might be the Pacific,’ he said.

‘That’s a long way away.’

‘I can turn it down if it’s important to you.’

She gave a sudden smile that reminded him with a jab at his heart of the way she’d grinned at him as a young girl, when she’d been the only member of her family able to see any promise in him.

‘It would be nice to be the wife of an admiral of the fleet,’ she said quietly.

He smiled and she went on. ‘The war’s almost over, Kelly, and according to what Seamus Boyle tells me, the Japanese won’t last long. So go and enjoy it. When the war’s over, there’ll only be me.’

There was a long silence because he’d been desperately afraid that she wouldn’t see eye to eye with him. The relief almost took his breath away.

‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly. ‘I thought I’d have heard by now. Perhaps somebody’s shoved a spanner in the works.’

But they hadn’t. He had no sooner arrived back in Antwerp when a signal came instructing him to report to the Admiralty. With it came another signal informing him he was to leave for Trincomalee where the Far East fleet was gathering. It was personal and it came from Corbett who added his congratulations.

A farewell party was held in Antwerp. The brass was dazzling and a great many people said enough nice things about him to raise a lump in his throat.

They headed for Orly the next morning and as they stopped at the airport, Rumbelo began to pass out the baggage from the boot of the car.

‘Am I coming, too, sir?’ he demanded.

‘No, Albert, old son,’ Kelly said gently. ‘You’re going home to Biddy.’

‘I would come.’

‘I know you would. But I think Biddy needs you more than I do.’

There was an awkward pause because they were both thinking of Paddy, and Kelly hurried on.

‘The garden needs your attention,’ he said. ‘And they’ll be starting the demob scheme as soon as the war ends here in Europe. You’ll be one of the first out. When I join you, we’ll grow roses.’

The aircraft landed at Brize Norton in a downpour and Charley was waiting at Thakeham, smiling in a way that told him the doubts and fears had finally gone.

‘You got it, Kelly?’

‘I’ve come home for briefing.’

She stared at him, then suddenly she threw her arms round him.

‘I’m so pleased for you and so proud!’

It was the first impulsive show of love she’d shown. It was spontaneous and full of warmth and he swept her into his arms and began to carry her to the stairs.

‘What are you doing?’

‘You could say I’m carrying you over the threshold,’ he said. ‘Something I omitted to do when I married you.’ He stopped at the curve of the stairs and looked at her with a serious face. ‘It’s all right now between us, isn’t it, Charley?’

She stared back at him, equally straight-faced, but her eyes were shining. His head was swimming a little as he saw the tears in them, and he was swept away in a torrent of memories, which he’d thought had gone forever. She tilted her head to kiss him. ‘Yes, Kelly,’ she said. ‘It’s all right.’

He grinned and began to stamp up the remaining stairs.

‘For God’s sake be careful,’ she warned. ‘You’ll have a heart attack.’

‘Not yet, please God,’ he said. ‘Afterwards.’

When he went to the Admiralty the following day, for once Corbett was not there to greet him. In his place was Admiral Orrmont, who’d been his commanding officer in Russia in the destroyer, Mordant.

‘Cuthbert Corbett’s dead,’ he said. ‘A week ago. I think he wore himself out.’ Orrmont smiled. ‘Now you’ve got me and I’m to fill you in with everything you’re to do. You’ll fly to Washington from Bourne and then to Trincomalee where you’ll pick up your ships. We’re assembling them now.’

Bourne was full of aircraft – Liberators, Lancasters, Dakotas, even a few fighters. They ate a meal at the restaurant which had been set up for transients.

‘Better eat plenty, sir,’ Boyle warned. ‘It’s a long trip.’

‘I hope you’ve got us a few comfortable seats for a change, Seamus.’

As they finished eating, they heard the metallic roar of engines and saw a big square-bodied Liberator moving towards them. An American WAAC officer appeared with a list and began to call names. She looked as beautiful as Verschoyle’s driver.

There seemed to be hundreds of aircraft on the tarmac and more in the air, landing and taking off in both directions in what seemed a precarious proximity to each other. In the distance they could see the wrecked shell of a Dakota, without engines, the wings charred and black as though it had been on fire.

Latimer was waiting by the aircraft as they climbed from the car. There were three other British naval officers, and three Americans, as well as twenty American air force officers going home after completing their tours of duty. The camera cases over their shoulders made them look as if they’d been on a tourist visit to England.

One of them kicked at the huge tyres of the aircraft. ‘I sure hope they put all the rivets in,’ he said.

The pilot was already on board, shouting instructions out of his window to a fitter on the ground. Beneath him, painted in white on the aircraft’s side, was the name – ‘Raidin’ Maiden.’

As they climbed in, the WAAC officer gave them all a smile and shook hands.

‘Anyone would think we weren’t coming back,’ Boyle said.

The seats were more comfortable than they’d been used to in the Dakotas but Kelly found he wasn’t looking forward to six hours of sitting in them, and the machine was still a bomber with the usual sharp angles and the usual spartan interior.

An American lieutenant appeared. ‘The skipper sends his compliments,’ he said. ‘And says not to worry. It’s a straightforward trip. We shall land in Northern Ireland to top up tanks, then go on to Gander and from there to Washington. We’re doing it in easy stages for safety. He’d also like you to know that this will be his last trip after fifty-three operational ones, because when he arrives, he’s grounded and he’s never going higher off the deck after that than his bedroom.’

They were sitting in the waist, each of them with a parachute beneath his feet, wondering how much use it would be if they had to bale out over the Atlantic. The machine had been stripped of everything possible for the trip, every ounce of superfluous weight removed to make the crossing safer.

‘Safe as Fort Knox,’ one of the American officers observed. ‘She’s got around a thousand miles safety margin.’

The engines howled as they began to taxi towards the runway. The way the aeroplane moved was far from reassuring and Kelly decided that the pilot was either keen to show off or he’d got used to moving into position fast for the big raids on Germany. As they waited for the tower, one of the American naval officers moved aft and squatted down in the alleyway alongside Kelly. ‘Admiral Maguire, sir?’ he asked.

‘That’s right.’

‘Pleased to meet you, sir. Commander Kaysor. I was on the staff of Admiral Allington. He was with you in the North African landings. I never met you but I sure heard a lot about you. He put his parachute down and sat on it in the alleyway. ‘I’m going out to the Pacific, sir.’

‘So am I,’ Kelly said. ‘I’ll probably be asking your advice.’

The aircraft jerked suddenly as the pilot turned on full power to swing on to the runway, then without a pause, the engines thundering at full throttle, it began to hurtle down the tarmacadam, the wheels rumbling beneath them, loose objects rattling and clattering.

The centrifugal force as they’d swung had caused Kaysor to slide off his parachute and roll on to his back. He began to get up, grinning, but an unexpected oscillation prevented him and he was still fighting to get to his feet when the aeroplane began an up-and-down motion as if it were bowing over its nose wheel.

They were moving at full speed down the runway when it began to swing to port and starboard. It seemed to be nothing because nobody showed any alarm, but Kaysor’s smile had changed to one of bewilderment and suddenly the motion increased and the aircraft began to tilt backwards and forwards in a violent seesaw. Wondering if the controls had jammed, Kelly glanced through the window but the rudder seemed to be moving freely.