The Lost Years (37 page)

Perys decided to say nothing of what he knew about Edward’s ‘war wound’, or of the warning he had passed on to him from Polly. Nevertheless, he was uncomfortably aware of something Annie had said to him in 1914, when they visited the injured Henry Dunn.

She had said that the fishermen of Mevagissey ‘looked after their own’.

Perys strongly suspected that they had once again proved this to be so.

Chapter 58

In recognition of the number of German aircraft he had shot down during his command of the squadron, Perys was awarded a second Military Cross, one of three given to the squadron’s pilots, and by the end of November 1916 the bloody battle of the Somme was over.

The end of the fighting was decided as much by conditions on the battle-field as by the sheer exhaustion of the combatants. The few insignificant square miles of ground won by the Allied armies had been churned into a wasteland of mud in a carnage that had claimed more than a million-and-a-quarter casualties.

The soldiers who had fought and died to no avail spoke many differing languages, but, spilled on the shell-torn earth, an enemy’s blood was indistinguishable from that of a friend.

Winter would bring peace, of a kind, on the ground, but in the air great changes were taking place, the Royal Flying Corps developing along lines that would shape its future for more than half-a-century.

Instead of squadrons made up of aeroplanes designed for a number of different purposes, they now had separate fighter squadrons the ‘scouts’; the bombers; and others whose purpose was reconnaissance and artillery spotting. Each would have an important but very different part to play in the aerial warfare of the future when tactics too would assume increasing importance.

Rupert and Perys trained their squadron as a unit, each pilot being responsible for covering another in combat. Each, in his turn, would be protected by another.

However, the main purpose of a ‘scout’ was to shoot down the enemy. Because of this the fighter pilot became glamorised as a ‘knight of sky’, fighting a personal battle against an adversary. It was a mode of fighting that had not been seen since the days of King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table.

However, 1917 was to bring about other changes that would eventually bring this, the most costliest of conflicts, to an end.

Germany was about to embark on an all-out war at sea and her submarine commanders were given orders to sink any vessel found in British waters, or which the submarine commander believed to be en route to a British port, regardless of the flag it was flying.

This unwise and draconian measure would bring a hitherto dithering United States of America into the war against the Germans. The vast resources of this mighty country would more than offset the collapse of Russia, Germany’s Eastern enemy, which was about to tear itself apart in a bloody revolution.

* * *

In March 1917, when British and French generals were planning yet another offensive, Perys received a letter which left him stunned. Forwarded by Maude, who was now back in London, the letter had been written to Perys by his grandfather.

It began by saying that now Perys had passed the age of twenty-one, it was time for some changes in his life. Incredibly, his grandfather then expressed deep regret for the fact that his own Victorian upbringing and that of Perys’s grandmother had left them unable to cope with the shame they had felt over the circumstances of Perys’s birth. They had now come to realise that they had been guilty of a tragic injustice to him and were deeply ashamed of the suffering they had caused to both him and his mother.

Letters sent to them by Maude Tremayne and by Rupert had made them realise how much they had lost by their indifference towards him. Even more regrettable was the unhappiness they had caused him during the years when he most needed the support of a family.

Grandfather Tremayne went on to say that nothing he or Perys’s grandmother could do would ever compensate for those lost years, but he had been in correspondence with his London solicitor with a view to ensuring Perys’s future would be happier and more secure than his past.

Hardly able to believe the contents of the letter, Perys went on to read that his grandfather was making over to him all the properties he owned in England, together with monies deposited in his name in a London bank.

He added that he and Perys’s grandmother had property and money enough in Italy to ensure they would live out their remaining years all the comfort they needed.

Accompanying the letter was another from the London solicitor, listing the properties and land which had been made over to Perys, together with details of the monies and investments that would also be transferred to his own hitherto meagre bank account.

The grand total was staggering! Perys found it difficult to grasp that he was now a wealthy man with properties in a number of English counties. Among these was the home of his grandparents on the Sussex Downs and a number of farms in Cornwall. Perys was astonished to learn that among these were Tregassick and its neighbour which, with others, were being administered on his behalf by the Heligan Estate office.

Perys remembered Annie had once said that although the farm was administered by Heligan, it was owned by another member of the Tremayne family, but he never dreamed the owner was his grandfather. Now, of course, he was the owner. He wondered what the Bray family would think of the situation. He decided it was not necessary to tell them just yet.

Reading through the list of properties and possessions being passed on to him, Perys found his grandfather’s hitherto parsimonious attitude difficult to excuse - but today was not a time for recriminations.

Seeking out Rupert, a still-stunned Perys told him of his astonishing and unexpected good fortune.

Rupert offered Perys genuine congratulations, adding, ‘I am very, very pleased for you, Perys. My only regret is that it has taken the old boy so long to come to his senses. He should have listened to the family many years ago.’

‘Do you know him very well?’ Perys had never before thought to question Rupert about the relationship he had with his grandfather.

‘I have met him a few times.’ Rupert replied. ‘He would occasionally visit the home of my parents.’

‘What sort of a man is he really?’

When Rupert appeared startled by the question, Perys explained, ‘He would never speak to me while my mother was alive - and I never even saw him afterwards. I had thought I might once, when I was in trouble at school for fighting - a not uncommon occurrence, I am afraid. The headmaster told me he had written to Grandfather Tremayne, asking him to come to the school and deliver a final warning to me about my behaviour . . .’

When Perys fell silent, Rupert prompted, ‘I take it he didn’t come to speak to you?’

Perys shook his head. ‘He sent a letter to the headmaster saying, ‘Talking to the boy will achieve nothing. If he so much as looks as though he might misbehave, beat him.’ Perys managed a wry smile. ‘The letter actually did me a favour. I think the headmaster was shocked by Grandfather’s attitude and was never quite so hard on me after that.’

Giving Perys a sympathetic look, Rupert said, ‘Well, now the old boy has finally relented, do you have any ideas about spending your newly acquired wealth?’

‘Yes. Well . . . two ideas come to mind immediately. The first is that when the next spell of bad weather grounds us, I’ll take the squadron out for a night on the town.’

‘And the second . . . ?’ Rupert queried.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Perys said, ‘Now I am no longer a pauper, I intend writing to Grace and asking her to marry me.’

Chapter 59

Perys was able to keep his promise to treat the squadron to a night out only a few evenings later. They went to Amiens. It was far enough away from the front-line to enable the squadron’s pilots and observers to forget the war for a few hours. They enjoyed a superb meal and consumed enough wine, cognac and other drinks to make them all grateful that bad weather kept them grounded until the evening of the following day.

It was to be the last party the squadron would enjoy for a couple of months. For many it would be the last they would ever know.

The latest offensive was launched against heavily defended German lines near Arras, and air reconnaissance was considered essential if it were to succeed.

The task of the fighter squadrons was to ensure that reconnaissance aircraft were able to carry out their duties unmolested by German airmen.

They performed well - but at a terrible cost. Baron Manfred von Richthofen and his pilots flying the German Albatross aeroplane reaped a rich harvest in the skies above France as new and inexperienced British pilots were flung into the battle in unprecedented numbers. Some lasted only days in the skies above the battle-field, others a matter of hours.

At night, in the quiet of his darkened room distant thunder of artillery only faintly discernible when the westerly wind eased, Perys turned his thoughts from war to what he hoped would be happier times.

He had not yet received a reply from Grace to his proposal, but it was hardly surprising. Fierce fighting was raging all along the battle-front and casualties were appallingly heavy. All branches of the medical services were stretched to the limit.

* * *

Perys and Rupert were sharing a drink in the quiet of Rupert’s office one evening in April 1917. Both men were feeling the strain of the offensive and Perys had been discussing with his second cousin the question of replacements for two flight commanders who had been lost in action that day. One had been shot out of the sky by Baron Manfred von Richthofen, the other by his brother, Lother.

The decision on one replacement was quickly reached. The other would need to be brought in from outside the squadron. The issue temporarily settled, both officers tried to relax. It was not easy.

‘Have you heard from Grace since you sent off your proposal?’ Rupert asked.

‘Not yet,’ Perys replied. ‘I doubt if I will until things quieten down along the front. She’ll be pretty busy.’

‘I had a telephone call from Morwenna today,’ Rupert said. ‘She told me she will be well clear of the fighting for a while. I must say it is a great relief to me. She’s in Paris at the moment preparing men to return to England. When they are ready she’ll travel with them to Le Havre then accompany them to England on a hospital ship, the Sultan. Once the men have been safely delivered to hospitals in London she’s taking some leave.’

‘Will you be able to get across to England to spend a few days with her?’

‘I’d like to,’ Rupert replied, ‘but with things the way they are at present I will need to lead one of the flights myself.’

‘Things aren’t looking too good.’ Perys agreed. ‘When I look around at those of the original squadron who are left, I am aware I am living on borrowed time.’

Rupert recognised the truth of Perys’s statement, but he said, cheerfully, ‘Nonsense, Perys. Not even von Richthofen himself could down you - and if he’s wise he will give you a wide berth in the air . . . But here, let me refill your glass.’

* * *

A few days later Perys travelled by road to St Omer to meet with three pilots, two newly qualified from the Central Flying School in England. They were replacements for the squadron’s lost pilots. With Perys and the third, more experienced, pilot, they would bring four Sopwith ‘Pup’ fighters back to Arras in order to bring the squadron up to almost full operational strength.

Perys spent twenty-four hours with the pilots, briefing them on the situation at Arras and trying to instil in them some sense of the importance of flying as a tightly knit unit. In order to emphasise this he managed to fit in three hours in the air with them, practising formation flying.

The third pilot had served with the Royal Naval Air Service for two years. Answering an urgent call for experienced pilots to transfer to the RFC on either a temporary or permanent basis, he was to fill the flight commander vacancy in his new squadron.

After the day’s flying practice was over, Perys met up with the new flight commander to discuss the role of the fighter squadrons and fill him in on details that would help him in his new duties.

They had been talking for some time when the naval pilot said, ‘Actually, I heard news only this morning that almost makes me wonder whether I have done the right thing, or whether I might not have been of more use staying with the RNAS and taking on anti-submarine duties.’

‘What brought on the doubts?’ Perys asked, casually, more to make conversation than for any deep interest.

‘All my belongings haven’t arrived at Saint Omer, so I telephoned my old squadron at Calshot in Hampshire. The duty officer is an old friend. He told me that after the sinking of a hospital ship off Le Havre during the night, the squadron was out hunting the submarine that did it.’

The naval officer’s information caused Perys to sit up and take an immediate interest, hospital ship sunk off Le Havre? Do you know its name?’

Perys’s sudden interest startled the naval officer. ‘I was told. It’s something like . . . the S.S. Sultan, that’s it . . .’

When Perys leaped to his feet, the naval pilot alarmed, asked, ‘Does it have particular significance?’

‘Yes,’ Perys said, grimly. ‘One of the nursing sisters on board is my second cousin. She is also engaged to be married to Major Pilkington, your new commanding officer. Excuse me, I must get to a telephone.’

Leaving the shocked naval pilot staring after him, Perys hurried from the mess to the administrative section. There he was able to find a telephone. Less than ten minutes later he was talking to Rupert.

The squadron’s commanding officer had not heard of the sinking of the hospital ship and was deeply distressed by the news. ‘It’s horrifying, Perys. Are you absolutely certain . . . ?’

‘I am afraid there can be no mistake, Rupert. Navy aeroplanes have been out for most of the day searching for the submarine. Of course, it doesn’t mean that anything will have happened to Morwenna . . .’

‘Will you try to learn all you can about what happened, Perys? I can do little myself right now. The Canadians have taken Vimy Ridge and are holding it against fierce German counter-attacks. We’re throwing in every aeroplane that can take to the air in order to help them.’