The Lost Years (17 page)

As Perys brought the ‘Longhorn’ down, he observed a ‘Shorthorn’ aeroplane turning out-side the perimeter of the motor racing track with the obvious intention of coming in to land. The somewhat jerky movements of the plane as it manoeuvred into position led Perys to the conclusion that it was probably a trainee pilot making his first landing under instruction.

Not wishing to risk distracting the novice pilot, Perys put the ‘Longhorn’ into a wide banking turn. By the time he returned to his original position the other aeroplane should have landed.

Because he was making such a wide turn, Perys did not witness the actual crash. Not until he began his second descent did he see the ‘Shorthorn’ on the ground outside the racing track. It was lying on its side in a crumpled heap, the wings on one side pointing up to the sky. The accident must have only just occurred, but civilians and RFC personnel were running towards the scene from all directions.

A horrified Perys watched as the aeroplane erupted in a fireball that sent flames and smoke leaping into the sky ahead of him.

The would-be rescuers stopped running, standing about helplessly, waiting for the fire-engine from the airfield to arrive on the scene.

Perys’s flight took him directly over the crashed aeroplane and through the smoke billowing up from it, but he needed to concentrate on his own landing and soon the tragic scene was behind him.

When he climbed from the ‘Longhorn’, he was shaking. His first words to the flying instructor were, ‘There’s been a crash. A ‘Shorthorn’ . . . it’s on fire!’

Nick nodded sympathetically, but when he spoke it was in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘This is a training airfield, Perys, crashes are not uncommon. You’ve been lucky not to have witnessed one before this. When the RFC first moved here there were two or three a week - sometimes as many as one a day. Is it going to put you off flying?’

Perys was silent for what seemed a long time before replying, ‘No. It will probably make me a better pilot and teach me to concentrate on what I’m doing for every minute I’m flying an aeroplane.’

Resting a hand on Perys’s shoulder, Nick said sympathetically, ‘If the accident has done the same for all the trainee pilots here today then two good men won’t have died in vain. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink on the way home and you can tell me where you’ve been . . .’

That night Perys wrote a long letter to Annie. He told her about London, about Brooklands, about Nick and his flying experiences to date. He did not mention the crash he had witnessed that day.

It was something he would try, without success, not to remember for as long as he was training to become a pilot.

Chapter 26

At the end of his first week of flying training, Perys returned to Knightsbridge and the home of Maude and her daughters. He discovered the whole family was far more closely involved with the war than he and the trainee RFC pilots who spent their days circling above the race track at Brooklands.

In Europe, the British, French and Belgian armies were locked in a desperate defensive battle against the Germans, who were fighting their way towards the Belgian town of Ypres. Casualty figures on both sides were appallingly high. British casualties alone could be counted in tens of thousands, and hospitals in battle-torn France were unable to cope. As a result, trainloads of wounded soldiers were carried to the Channel ports and ferried to England, stretching the resources of the London hospitals to breaking point.

Nursing training had been temporarily suspended. Although still limping, Arabella had returned to the hospital after a plea from the matron. Young, would-be nurses suddenly found themselves performing duties that only a week before would have been considered far beyond their capabilities. Now such limitations were ignored. They had some knowledge of nursing. It would have to be sufficient for the time being.

Morwenna returned to the house on Sunday morning having been on duty all night, but she stopped only long enough to bathe and change out of the blood-soiled uniform she had been wearing for twenty-four hours. She looked desperately tired, but insisted there was no question of resting for a while. ‘If you saw the state of those poor men you wouldn’t be able to rest until every one of them had been treated and made comfortable. Some are in a pitiful state. I’ll have something to eat quickly, then get back to the hospital.’

‘I’ll take you there,’ said Perys. ‘You can ride side-saddle on the pillion of the motor-bike. We’ll need to go fairly slowly, but it will be quicker than by bus.’

At the hospital it was immediately apparent to Perys that Sunday was not going to be a day of rest for the doctors or nursing staff. Another train loaded with wounded soldiers had arrived at the nearby Waterloo station. All available transport, including that offered free of charge by sympathetic taxi-cab drivers, was being utilised. Some, more mobile than others, chose to walk, tearfully relieved to be home and away from the hell they had left behind them in France and Belgium.

Morwenna wasted no time in thanking Perys and hurried inside the hospital. As Perys was about to ride away, a soldier walking to the hospital wearing a uniform still caked with the mud of the trenches, with a bandage around his head and an arm in a sling, suddenly collapsed without warning, his knees simply buckling beneath him.

Abandoning his motor-cycle against the railings outside the hospital, Perys hurried to the soldier.

‘Here, let me give you a hand.’ Putting an arm about the wounded man, Perys lifted him carefully to his feet. As he did so he was aware of an unpleasant odour emanating from the soldier’s clothing. It was the stench of dirt, mud, blood - and something else. Something indefinable. It was a stench that would one day become familiar to Perys. Although no one ever put a name to it, he always felt it to be the smell of death.

He helped the soldier into the hospital. Here the situation was chaotic. There were far more wounded men than the doctors and nurses could properly cope with and they had insufficient helpers.

Perys found a male nurse to take the wounded man off his hands, then went to the aid of a female nurse who was struggling to support one end of a stretcher.

Before long, he found himself as fully involved as the hospital porters in helping with the wounded men. It was a task that lasted for the whole of that day.

The hospital staff coped as best they could with at least ten times as many patients as they were equipped to deal with, and by the end of the day they had managed to transfer a great many of the wounded men to other hospitals in and around the capital city.

Now things were quieter, Perys went looking for Morwenna. He found her thoroughly exhausted and ready to go home, having worked for a full thirty-six hours.

They travelled home on the motor-cycle. Maude was waiting for them, having already tucked her younger daughter up in bed.

When she had dealt with Morwenna in a similar fashion, she came downstairs and sat with Perys, who was having a drink while a servant prepared a meal for him.

‘Was it very bad at the hospital?’ she asked, aware from the expression on his face that he had found helping out there a traumatic experience.

He nodded. ‘It was tragic to see the state of the wounded men. Many were no older than me. One can only guess what they’ve been through in France.’

‘The first thing Arabella did when she reached home was burst into tears.’ said Maude. ‘She has had a busy and upsetting day, but by the sound of things managed to cope very well. I am extremely proud of my two girls.’

‘With very good reason.’ Perys agreed. ‘The sad thing is, I fear there will be many more days like this before the war is over. Listening to the soldiers talking today it is likely to last for a long time. There is a fiercely fought war going on in France and Belgium. It seems the Germans are just as determined to win as we are.’

‘Has what you have witnessed today made you rethink your decision to join the Royal Flying Corps and go to war yourself, Perys? No one would blame you if it has.’

‘Quite the opposite, Aunt Maude. No one could fail to be appalled by what I have seen, but it has made me angry - and determined. Angry that the Germans should deliberately start such a war and cause all the suffering I’ve seen today, determined to do whatever I can to help bring it to an end as quickly as possible.’

Maude wondered how many of the maimed and wounded young men Perys had seen that day had gone to war with exactly the same thoughts and aims in mind. Remembering the anguish she had suffered when her own husband had been killed in a war only fourteen years ago, she thought of the pain and despair there would be in so many households in the country at this moment.

Her friends in the War Office were grimly hinting that the experienced soldiers in the British army had been almost wiped out. The hope for future victories rested with the largely untried men who were volunteering in their tens of thousands to take their places.

Perys was one such young man and one she and her two daughters had grown extremely fond of during the short time they had known him. She hoped with all her heart they would never need to grieve for him.

Chapter 27

During his second week of training Perys put in so many hours of flying time that Nick complained light-heartedly that the fee he was receiving from Rupert would not cover the fuel Perys was using.

Perys was flying the Avro now. A couple of hours dual with Nick had been sufficient for the instructor to satisfy himself that Perys was proficient enough to take the aeroplane up by himself. It also meant Nick could take other pupils up in the ‘Longhorn’ while Perys was flying.

Towards the end of the week, Perys received disappointing news. The examiner who was to have come to Brooklands to test the flying skills of Perys and a number of other pupils had been involved in a flying accident. Although he survived the crash, he had received serious injuries and would be unable to carry out his duties for some considerable time.

The only consolation for Perys was that Nick Malloch allowed him to stay at his home for an additional week and continue his solo flying. What was more, he had just obtained a BE2c aircraft, on which Perys put in a number of flying hours.

The aeroplane had been in private ownership since it was built, but the owner had sold it to Nick, who now had three serviceable aeroplanes at his disposal.

When the new examiner arrived at Brooklands, a week later than planned, it was discovered he was an old friend of Nicks.

By this time Perys had clocked up a total of forty-five solo flying hours in three different aeroplanes. It was an impressive amount of flying time for a trainee pilot. He had also carried out aerobatics in the BE2c when playing follow-the-leader with Nick flying the Avro.

It was an exhibition of flying that filled the watching RFC trainee pilots with envy. There were so many of them that, with too few planes at their disposal, they were sometimes forced to wait all day in order to enjoy a mere half-an-hour in the air. They would be expected to obtain their pilot’s certificate with only a fraction of the flying time clocked up by Perys. Another far more sobering thought was that many of the RFC pilots would be killed in action without ever achieving the number of flying hours Perys had to his name.

The Aero Club examiner first asked Perys some cursory questions, then Perys took up the Maurice Farman ‘Longhorn’ to carry out a few elementary manoeuvres around the perimeter of the motor-racing track.

As he was taxying off the examiner asked Nick, ‘How do you rate this one?’

Nick responded immediately. ‘I wouldn’t dream of telling him, but he’s a natural. Probably one of the finest pilots I have ever turned out.’

Shifting his glance from the ‘Longhorn’ to the man standing beside him, the examiner said, ‘That’s high praise indeed coming from you, Nick.’

‘It’s fully justified, I can assure you,’ Nick replied. ‘I thought his cousin, Rupert Pilkington, was good, but Perys will be better.’

Once again the examiner moved his glance from the aeroplane to the flying instructor. ‘I know Rupert well. He’s one of the very best. This boy must be good.’

‘He is,’ Nick said simply.

Perys did not let his instructor down. After his obligatory manoeuvres, the examiner turned to Kick and said, ‘I think you’re right. He handled that aeroplane as though he’s been flying for years.’

Relieved, despite the confidence he had in his pupil, Nick grinned. ‘You should see him performing aerobatics in the BE2c. I wouldn’t fancy my chances were I an enemy with Perys on my tail.’

‘Did you say there was some urgency about granting him his ticket?’ As the examiner spoke he was writing something on the form attached to the clipboard he held in his hands.

‘Yes, he has an interview for the RFC at the War Office next week. As a qualified pilot his acceptance will be assured.’

‘I’ll see his licence has priority, but don’t worry about it. He’ll be interviewed by Colonel MacAllen - Lord MacAllen. I’m having dinner with him this weekend, I’ll see that Perys is given a mention.’

* * *

When Perys stood before Colonel MacAllen the following week, it quickly became evident that he had been mentioned to the Royal Flying Corps recruiting officer by more than one interested party.

After poring over the documents laid on the desk before him, the colonel looked up at Perys and smiled. ‘You seem to have impressed a great many people in a very short time, young man. You have also seen action with your relative, Captain Pilkington, I believe?’

‘Yes, sir. It was a very exciting first flight.’

‘Quite!’ The colonel chuckled. ‘I think you and the Royal Flying Corps will suit each other very well - especially after the three weeks you have spent under the instruction of Nick Malloch. I expect great things from you, Tremayne. I doubt very much I will be disappointed.’

‘You mean . . . I am accepted, sir? When will I be able to start?’

Colonel MacAllen held up a hand in mock protest. ‘You will need a little patience, young man. Pilots are urgently required - and you are certainly a pilot, but you are not yet a Royal Flying Corps pilot. You will need to learn something of service etiquette, discipline and drill. We are now in November. Despite the urgency of the present situation, I doubt whether any new recruits will begin training until the New Year.’