Firekitten
August 5th, 2013, 18:39
Hi all. I'm in the process of working on a new book, (something I'd like to serialise here while I do as its set during the second world war and involves aircraft) Anyway, I decided to have a little fun and write an excert from a POW escape style adventure. Its not long, only three or four thousand words but It was an enjoyable little escapade and a fun flight in the old Tante Ju. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
(PS: The stupid rich text editor ate my words and decided to finger paint with the fonts and spacings... i hope its not too weird to read, I can't fix it >>)
Escape
Northern Germany, 0230h, 04th August, 1943
The trees whispered as the light breeze rustled their leaves and the first fingers of the distant sunrise began to extend above the horizon. Four men lay prone amongst the trunks, their bodies pressed into the dew glazed grass.
“What do you think boss?” one of the men asked in a hushed whisper.
Commander Andrew Matheson scanned the perimeter fence ahead of them, his eyes watching a pair of guards as they patrolled within the confines of the German airfield to their front. The men had been in position since nightfall, watching the shift patterns of the Luftwaffe guards throughout the night. The guards Matheson was observing were nearing the end of their two hour shift he calculated. By this time their senses would be dulled, their reaction times slowed. Matheson noted the men’s weapons slung over their shoulders and the gestures of conversation; the guards were not alert.
Matheson checked his stolen German wrist watch, the time was two forty in the morning and their window of opportunity was going to be narrow.
“Looks like we go,” Matheson replied pushing himself to his elbows slowly. “Come on.” He called to the others lying still in the wood beside him.
Pulling himself to his knees, Matheson glanced at the retreating forms of the two guards as they rounded the dark form of an aircraft several hundred feet from their position before making his move. Sprinting in a crouch, he left the tree line and approached the wire perimeter fence cautiously. Hearing the soft footfalls of the others behind him, Matheson turned towards them.
“Ok, who has those cutters?” he whispered, eying the airfield.
“Hang on,” answered Flight Sergeant Hamley. The large Irishman rummaged through his pack for a moment before passing the bolt cutters to Matheson, “Here sir.”
Matheson nodded at the Sergeant and began working on the metal links of the fence as quickly and quietly as he could; he winced each time a severed link sprang back under tension with a metallic clink. While he worked, the others trained their captured German submachine guns along the fence line, their ears straining for the slightest sound of an approaching German patrol.
As Matheson worked on the fence, time seemed to stretch; each link felt as though an age had passed, valuable time trickling away like sand through an hour glass; time that they did not have. He glanced towards the dull glow that back lit the horizon; he could swear that it was growing before his eyes. Cursing under his breath, he redoubled his assault on the stubborn fence.
After an agonising ten minutes, Matheson had opened a gap wide enough for the men to crawl through and the four had slithered through as silently as possible.
Flight Lieutenant Daniel Maddox was the last man through the gap in the fence, and once clear, he jogged over to join the others sheltering behind a Fire post.
“Ok we’re in,” Maddox grinned, “Hard part to come chaps, now we’ve got to nick one of Jerry’s crates.”
“How do we expect to get off the ground? Surely they’re going to hear us starting up and taxiing?” chimed in Captain Barkley, the only Army officer amongst the group.
“I didn’t really think that far ahead.” Admitted Matheson with a shrug, “But we’re in here, we’re not in that camp, and we’ve got about as good a chance to get back as we’ll ever have. Fortune favours the bold Harry old boy,” Matheson added pointedly, “The Germans are not going to expect a group of Allied POW’s to have made it this far and have the audacity to steal one of their toys. Chances are, this being an airbase, they will react like we did hearing an aircraft moving at night… they’ll ignore it.”
“He’s got a point.” Maddox agreed. “This looks to be a transit field; aircraft will be coming and going at all hours.”
Barkley nodded, accepting their logic. “We’re going to have to make a fairly snappy departure all the same, and hope they don’t stop us first.”
Matheson grinned broadly, hoping to lift the spirits of the others. “Well it’s home or a Jerry bullet for me, that camp scoff was bloody awful…”
Lips quirked in reply as the four checked their kit a final time before following Matheson along the edge of the fence line towards the rows of parked aircraft.
Rounding a row of parked Focke-wulf fighters, the men spotted exactly what they had been looking for…
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/distanceramp_zpse196de15.jpg~original
The large corrugated Junkers transport sat away from the other aircraft near several buildings. Its large angular shape appearing menacing in the early dawn light.
Matheson and the others made their way quietly to the rear of the fuselage, keeping themselves tucked in against the cold metal to minimise their chances of detection. Reaching forward, Matheson grasped the door handle and tried the mechanism. The door hinged outward noiselessly, allowing him space to slide inside the darkened cabin.
Matheson crawled forward between troop seats until he reached the cockpit of the aircraft. Raising his head, he scanned the airfield through the cockpit windows; the two guards were patrolling along the far side of the field he observed with relief.
Moving more by feeling and touch, he examined the cockpit controls in the darkness. Once he was confident that he understood the German systems, he flicked on the aircraft’s battery and squinted at the fuel gauge.
Relief surged through him as he saw nearly full tanks. The aircraft had clearly been refuelled the night before.
Couching, he moved back down to the rear door and opened it quietly. Beckoning the men forward, he helped the others inside.
Maddox took the offered hand was pulled aboard.
“How does she look?” Matheson asked, his voice still barely above a whisper.
Maddox nodded, “Looks good, I did a quick spin around and she’s in order, I’d say the tanks are mostly full too.”
“At least I know the Krauts didn’t put the gauges in backwards then.” Matheson chuckled. “That pair of guards is the only sign of Jerry I’ve spotted, what do you reckon?” he asked.
Maddox sucked his teeth and glanced towards his friend. “The way I see it, we’re going to get pranged by our lot or theirs, it’s just a matter of time. How quickly do you think you can start this old crate?”
Matheson shook his head. “Won’t know till I try, though I expect those two guards will be on us sharpish, do we shoot them? Can we hold any reinforcements off long enough?”
Before Maddox could reply, Hamley returned from the front of the aircraft with a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Sir, some bugger is looking over us… I found a right haul up front.”
Matheson raised a questioning eyebrow at the Flight Sergeant not quite understanding his meaning.
Hamley nodded back over his shoulder in the direction of the cockpit. “Up front there… The kraut flight crew left their kit bags, I think they were planning to get away sharpish this morning, haven’t had a smoke since I was nabbed in France.” He grinned happily.
Matheson looked across the cabin at Maddox and a grin began to spread across his face.
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/leaving_zps391713ee.jpg~original
Arthur Hamley was grumbling to himself as he dragged the large fire extinguisher trolley across the grass towards the aircraft. He felt horribly exposed as he stood in front of the transport plane waiting for the first engine to turn over. The German flying jacket itched horribly and the trousers were too tight.
He had been the only logical choice to perform this part of the deception. The Commander and Lieutenant Maddox had been needed to get the aircraft started and Captain Barkley didn’t know which end of an aircraft was meant to spin. Flight Sergeant Arthur Hamley was doing a job he had performed a thousand times before, although for the first time, as his Luftwaffe counterpart.
As the Air starter began to cycle the first engine, Hamley tried to act normally, signalling to the pilot as any ground crewman might. However, as the nose engine began to cycle, he caught sight of the two Luftwaffe guards making their way across towards the Junkers. Hamley began to sweat despite the early morning chill and gestured to the pilots to speed up. When he received a confused expression from Maddox he jerked his head in the direction of the soldiers.
Arthur fumbled around inside the heavy German jacket and felt his fingers close around his knife. Unable to speak a word of German, the game would be up fairly quickly if the men questioned them.
As he signalled for the third engine to be started, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Waiting for the engine to bite, he gave an ‘ok’ signal to the cockpit before turning towards the inevitable confrontation.
“Ja?” he asked, his entire German vocabulary exhausted in that simple question.
The German solder pointed at the Junkers and said something inaudible over the sound of the engines.
Hamley played for time, cupping his hand to his ear and acting as though he had not heard.
As the German tried to repeat his question, Commander Matheson stepped past him and smiled disarmingly at the irritated guard.
(Italics in German)
“Why are you harassing my Unterfeldwebel, Gefreiter?” Matheson yelled over the roar of the radial engines.
The Airman balked, noticing the Hauptmann’s insignia on Matheson’s flight jacket.
“Sir, there were not meant to be any departures until 0800 hours, the base Kommandant’s orders.”
“I know that Gefreiter,” Matheson replied emulating the dismissive air of German officers he had dealt with during his time as a prisoner of war. “The Kommandant however does not out rank Generaloberst Stumpff. We have orders to depart at first light for his Fliegerdivision headquarters. at Pas De Calais Y.our Kommandant will not get in the way of that.”The Luftwaffe airman visibly shrank at Matheson’s words.
“I’m Sorry Herr Hauptmann,” The man stammered, “I will inform them you left when the tower staff come on duty.”“Good, see that you do.” Matheson replied testily. “Come Unterfeldwebel Heinrich, we have been delayed long enough by this imbecile.” The two men made their way back towards the waiting Junkers and climbed aboard, sealing the door after themselves. “Where did that come from Sir?” Hamley asked, collapsing into one of the troop seats.Matheson grinned. “Good wasn’t it? I just used a bunch of names I’d heard while we were in the camp and acted like a total arse… seemed to work rather well.” Hamley shook his head and smiled. “Sir, that was the best bloody performance I’ve seen since that Charlie Chaplin character did that one about Hitler.”Laughing, Matheson took an exaggerated bow and made his way up to the cockpit as Maddox began manhandling the large aircraft across the grass apron.Sliding into the left seat, Matheson slipped on the headphones and gripped the yoke. “All ok?” he asked looking across at the other pilot.Maddox nodded, “All green, let’s get out of here before they clock on to us.”
“Roger that,” Matheson agreed as he eased the aircraft onto the grass runway and opened the throttles.The heavy Junkers began to accelerate down the runway, its rugged construction doing nothing to dampen the jolts and vibration.Pulling back on the control column, the two pilots eased the ungainly aircraft into the sky and for the first time in two years, away from German soil.Climbing up to six thousand feet, Matheson levelled off and made a sweeping turn onto a north-westerly heading, pulling a map out of the side pocket, he began to assess their location.http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/airborne_zps46c31db7.jpg~originalThe base they had stolen the Junkers from was in the town of Wulfershausen in southern Bavaria. That placed them almost at the heart of Germany, and some four hundred miles from home.“How do you want to play this?” Matheson asked the Lieutenant. “We can shoot straight, carry on with the direct approach, or we swing south and through France.”Maddox studied the map before looking across at his friend. “If we go straight, we pass Essen, Cologne and Düsseldorf… The yanks are apparently blowing the heck out of the big urban centres during the day now, but if we’re past there early enough I think it should be fine. I’d rather not delay by running around France all day.”Matheson scratched his chin and stared out of the window deep in thought. The sun was creeping into the sky to start another day and the world around them was emerging from the cocoon of darkness, Shadows stretching across the landscape like cracks in the surface of the earth.To go north, meant running the gauntlet of Germany’s Industrial Heartland, to expose themselves to not only greater scrutiny, but the potential threat of allied raids. West however, was no better he thought. A detour around Düsseldorf and Cologne, would add hours to their journey, four hundred miles was already stretching his rough estimate mathematics for their endurance. He estimated they had three to four hours of fuel at best. No, France would not do: They daren’t land to refuel, he had played the disgruntled German officer with two sleepy guards, but at a busy airfield it would be suicide.“We go north, screw the yanks and screw the Jerrys… We’re going home.” He added firmly, glancing at Maddox. “It’s the only shot we have.”Maddox nodded, He would follow Commander Matheson into the jaws of hell if he asked. The two had served together aboard Ark Royal before their capture. Both naval aviators, they were often isolated amongst the Royal Air Force and American prisoners at the camp. Maddox had come to respect the Commander immensely in their time together. His decisions were well thought out and always with the best interest of those under his command. If Matheson said north… they would go north.
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/craterroad_zps20f17d64.jpg~originalAs the aircraft droned onwards, the men felt the pressure easing. The further they flew, the further captivity was behind them. The fact that they were still within German borders was irrelevant: They had escaped and they were duty bound to return home to fight once more.http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/fly_zps80b23201.jpg~originalAfter an hour of flying, the countryside began to transform into an urban carpet as they flew over the outskirts of Cologne. The pilots began to scan the sky around them for signs of other aircraft, both friend and foe. Matheson had Barkley and Hamley manning the waist guns in the troop transport. While attack by German fighters was unlikely, the chance of an errant Allied escort fighter having a shot at them was extremely high.“For god’s sake, if one of those silly bastards does shoot at us, try not to kill him.” Matheson ordered over the intercom.As the words left his mouth, Matheson spotted fires to the north. “Looks like they’re raiding Düsseldorf, “he observed. “We’re lucky I suppose.” Maddox replied gazing at the destruction raining down upon the city. “That looks a hell of a lot worse from where I’m sitting.” He added, “All those people…”“It’s a lot different flying a stringbag off the Ark and whacking Jerry shipping isn’t it?” Matheson asked his friend.Maddox nodded. “I don’t know how those Airforce boys do it… even after the Blitz… I mean, the German civilians… they’re like our lot aren’t they?”“Well there’s your fair share of Nazi wallahs,” Matheson pointed out, “But yes, mostly, they’re just like our lot, suffering like our lot… this bloody war.” He sighed.http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/raid_zps1b62456e.jpg~original
They flew on in silence, Germany burning behind them.Before long, they had crossed the Belgian border and were soon over Antwerp, the coast in sight.“I can’t believe we’ve nearly made it.” Captain Barkley gushed as he stood in the cockpit door, his eyes fixed on the English Channel.“We’ve not made it yet Sir.” Arthur Hamley corrected the Captain. “We’ve still got to somehow make it down in England without being shot to pieces by our own lot.”
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/leavingcoast_zps97081cc4.jpg~original“My god, what are we going to do?” Barkley asked, his elation fading in the face of his growing realisation. “The bloody air force will shoot us down without a second thought.”“I think I have a plan,” Matheson replied slowly, “We’ll find out.”“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Barkley asked indignantly, the man’s panic showing.“Just keep your eyes out for any friendlies ok?” Matheson added, winking at the Captain. “It won’t work if they see us first.”“Sir, I think that’s Ramsgate!” Hamley chimed in across the intercom as they came in sight of the south cost of England. “Yes, it is I can see the convent up by the hill sir.”http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/ramsgate_zpsffc58ebc.jpg~originalMatheson pulled back the throttles and began to descend. “Ok, we’re going to put down at Manston… It’s a designated emergency landing site for damaged aircraft returning from the continent, they expect unannounced aircraft… so they will be watching us.”“How is that going to help boss?” Maddox asked uncertainly. “They’re going to see a Jerry troop transport.”“Let me handle that, just find the damn landing lamps will you?” Matheson replied scanning the sky around them.“Sir, Spitfire at four o’clock high closing fast.” Hamley called out, the note of alarm in his voice evident even over the intercom system.Matheson kept the aircraft flying straight, but pulled back further on the throttles slowing the aircraft. With a roar, the spitfire shot past them high to starboard and began a wide banking turn to come at the aircraft for a second pass.As the aircraft rolled level and made its approach, Matheson waggled the Junker’s wings several times.http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/intercept_zpsc4236b46.jpg~original“Alright Maddox, hit the beams, Give me a morse for ‘BRITISH’ Commander Matheson called, still rocking the sluggish aircraft’s wings in a passive compliance gesture.The spitfire roared past them a second time, his guns silent. Matheson could only imagine the pilot’s confusion at the strange behaviour of the German invader.Continuing his signals, and Maddox repeating the mores message on the landing lamps, they waited, hoping that their message would not be misunderstood.“He’s coming around from the rear, slowing sir.” Hamley called, watching the fighter from the open rear door.“He’s going to fire!” Barkley whined forlornly, giving up hope. “Come on you silly sod.” Matheson muttered to himself, gripping the control yoke more firmly than needed.“Sir he’s matching our speed.” Hamley relayed, the tension managing to affect even the stalwart Irishman.The spitfire drew level with the cockpit of the Junkers. Matheson could see the masked pilot eying them.Sliding open the side window, he gave the fighter pilot a thumbs up gesture and pointed down.The fighter hesitated for a moment, coordinating with control. He glanced at the Junkers a few times before wagging his own wings, pointing down and banking away towards Manston. Repeating the gesture, Matheson banked the aircraft to follow the accelerating spitfire.“My god, it worked.” Maddox muttered over the intercom, a broad grin spreading across his face, “It bloody worked!”“Not yet old chap.” Matheson replied lining the aircraft up for the approach to Manston’s runway. “Still the trigger happy snowdrops to deal with.” The large Junkers settled heavily onto Manston’s concrete runway, bouncing twice in the hands of its inexperienced crew. The escorting spitfire that had followed them down gunned his engine and began to climb away for his own landing approach.
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/escort_zpseded313c.jpg~originalTurning the aircraft off the main runway, Matheson brought them to a stop in front of a number of waiting vehicles. The Royal Air Force police and a detachment of soldiers waiting with shouldered weapons.
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/capture_zpsd6b5d41c.jpg~originalCutting the engines, Matheson followed the others out of the rear door and raised his hands. “Thanks for letting us land old sport,” he called to the gruff looking military police Sergeant.“Well you picked a bad place to land today Kraut,” growled the Sergeant, training his webley on Matheson. “Do I look like a Jerry to you?” Matheson replied with a grin.“Actually sir…” Maddox began, trailing of as the Police Sergeant turned his glare on him.“We’re prisoners of war Sergeant,” Matheson explained. “We stole this aircraft to escape Germany.”“You certainly are one now.” One of the solders called to a smattering of laughter.“Prisoner of war eh?” the Sergeant asked sceptically, approaching Matheson and plucking at his flight jacket. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you Herr Frtiz.”Matheson chuckled, “What these old rags?” he asked innocently, fingering the leather jacket., “Now Sergeant, I know the snowdrops aren’t completely useless, so engage your issued brain. Do you really think Jerry would let me take one of his kites for a joy ride if I turned up in my blue number ones?”Matheson walked past the stunned man and plucked a German cigarette from his jacket pocket before stopping to light it. He turned to the Sergeant and held out his hand. “Commander Andrew Matheson… His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”
The End. If you’re interested, the morse for British was -… .-. .. - .. ….Fliegerdivision – Flight Division
Gefreiter – Airman
Hauptmann – Captain or Flight Lieutenant
Generaloberst – Air Chief Marshal
Unterfeldwebel – Staff Sergeant
Thanks for reading, any comments or thoughts are always welcome.
Rachael
(PS: The stupid rich text editor ate my words and decided to finger paint with the fonts and spacings... i hope its not too weird to read, I can't fix it >>)
Escape
Northern Germany, 0230h, 04th August, 1943
The trees whispered as the light breeze rustled their leaves and the first fingers of the distant sunrise began to extend above the horizon. Four men lay prone amongst the trunks, their bodies pressed into the dew glazed grass.
“What do you think boss?” one of the men asked in a hushed whisper.
Commander Andrew Matheson scanned the perimeter fence ahead of them, his eyes watching a pair of guards as they patrolled within the confines of the German airfield to their front. The men had been in position since nightfall, watching the shift patterns of the Luftwaffe guards throughout the night. The guards Matheson was observing were nearing the end of their two hour shift he calculated. By this time their senses would be dulled, their reaction times slowed. Matheson noted the men’s weapons slung over their shoulders and the gestures of conversation; the guards were not alert.
Matheson checked his stolen German wrist watch, the time was two forty in the morning and their window of opportunity was going to be narrow.
“Looks like we go,” Matheson replied pushing himself to his elbows slowly. “Come on.” He called to the others lying still in the wood beside him.
Pulling himself to his knees, Matheson glanced at the retreating forms of the two guards as they rounded the dark form of an aircraft several hundred feet from their position before making his move. Sprinting in a crouch, he left the tree line and approached the wire perimeter fence cautiously. Hearing the soft footfalls of the others behind him, Matheson turned towards them.
“Ok, who has those cutters?” he whispered, eying the airfield.
“Hang on,” answered Flight Sergeant Hamley. The large Irishman rummaged through his pack for a moment before passing the bolt cutters to Matheson, “Here sir.”
Matheson nodded at the Sergeant and began working on the metal links of the fence as quickly and quietly as he could; he winced each time a severed link sprang back under tension with a metallic clink. While he worked, the others trained their captured German submachine guns along the fence line, their ears straining for the slightest sound of an approaching German patrol.
As Matheson worked on the fence, time seemed to stretch; each link felt as though an age had passed, valuable time trickling away like sand through an hour glass; time that they did not have. He glanced towards the dull glow that back lit the horizon; he could swear that it was growing before his eyes. Cursing under his breath, he redoubled his assault on the stubborn fence.
After an agonising ten minutes, Matheson had opened a gap wide enough for the men to crawl through and the four had slithered through as silently as possible.
Flight Lieutenant Daniel Maddox was the last man through the gap in the fence, and once clear, he jogged over to join the others sheltering behind a Fire post.
“Ok we’re in,” Maddox grinned, “Hard part to come chaps, now we’ve got to nick one of Jerry’s crates.”
“How do we expect to get off the ground? Surely they’re going to hear us starting up and taxiing?” chimed in Captain Barkley, the only Army officer amongst the group.
“I didn’t really think that far ahead.” Admitted Matheson with a shrug, “But we’re in here, we’re not in that camp, and we’ve got about as good a chance to get back as we’ll ever have. Fortune favours the bold Harry old boy,” Matheson added pointedly, “The Germans are not going to expect a group of Allied POW’s to have made it this far and have the audacity to steal one of their toys. Chances are, this being an airbase, they will react like we did hearing an aircraft moving at night… they’ll ignore it.”
“He’s got a point.” Maddox agreed. “This looks to be a transit field; aircraft will be coming and going at all hours.”
Barkley nodded, accepting their logic. “We’re going to have to make a fairly snappy departure all the same, and hope they don’t stop us first.”
Matheson grinned broadly, hoping to lift the spirits of the others. “Well it’s home or a Jerry bullet for me, that camp scoff was bloody awful…”
Lips quirked in reply as the four checked their kit a final time before following Matheson along the edge of the fence line towards the rows of parked aircraft.
Rounding a row of parked Focke-wulf fighters, the men spotted exactly what they had been looking for…
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/distanceramp_zpse196de15.jpg~original
The large corrugated Junkers transport sat away from the other aircraft near several buildings. Its large angular shape appearing menacing in the early dawn light.
Matheson and the others made their way quietly to the rear of the fuselage, keeping themselves tucked in against the cold metal to minimise their chances of detection. Reaching forward, Matheson grasped the door handle and tried the mechanism. The door hinged outward noiselessly, allowing him space to slide inside the darkened cabin.
Matheson crawled forward between troop seats until he reached the cockpit of the aircraft. Raising his head, he scanned the airfield through the cockpit windows; the two guards were patrolling along the far side of the field he observed with relief.
Moving more by feeling and touch, he examined the cockpit controls in the darkness. Once he was confident that he understood the German systems, he flicked on the aircraft’s battery and squinted at the fuel gauge.
Relief surged through him as he saw nearly full tanks. The aircraft had clearly been refuelled the night before.
Couching, he moved back down to the rear door and opened it quietly. Beckoning the men forward, he helped the others inside.
Maddox took the offered hand was pulled aboard.
“How does she look?” Matheson asked, his voice still barely above a whisper.
Maddox nodded, “Looks good, I did a quick spin around and she’s in order, I’d say the tanks are mostly full too.”
“At least I know the Krauts didn’t put the gauges in backwards then.” Matheson chuckled. “That pair of guards is the only sign of Jerry I’ve spotted, what do you reckon?” he asked.
Maddox sucked his teeth and glanced towards his friend. “The way I see it, we’re going to get pranged by our lot or theirs, it’s just a matter of time. How quickly do you think you can start this old crate?”
Matheson shook his head. “Won’t know till I try, though I expect those two guards will be on us sharpish, do we shoot them? Can we hold any reinforcements off long enough?”
Before Maddox could reply, Hamley returned from the front of the aircraft with a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Sir, some bugger is looking over us… I found a right haul up front.”
Matheson raised a questioning eyebrow at the Flight Sergeant not quite understanding his meaning.
Hamley nodded back over his shoulder in the direction of the cockpit. “Up front there… The kraut flight crew left their kit bags, I think they were planning to get away sharpish this morning, haven’t had a smoke since I was nabbed in France.” He grinned happily.
Matheson looked across the cabin at Maddox and a grin began to spread across his face.
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Arthur Hamley was grumbling to himself as he dragged the large fire extinguisher trolley across the grass towards the aircraft. He felt horribly exposed as he stood in front of the transport plane waiting for the first engine to turn over. The German flying jacket itched horribly and the trousers were too tight.
He had been the only logical choice to perform this part of the deception. The Commander and Lieutenant Maddox had been needed to get the aircraft started and Captain Barkley didn’t know which end of an aircraft was meant to spin. Flight Sergeant Arthur Hamley was doing a job he had performed a thousand times before, although for the first time, as his Luftwaffe counterpart.
As the Air starter began to cycle the first engine, Hamley tried to act normally, signalling to the pilot as any ground crewman might. However, as the nose engine began to cycle, he caught sight of the two Luftwaffe guards making their way across towards the Junkers. Hamley began to sweat despite the early morning chill and gestured to the pilots to speed up. When he received a confused expression from Maddox he jerked his head in the direction of the soldiers.
Arthur fumbled around inside the heavy German jacket and felt his fingers close around his knife. Unable to speak a word of German, the game would be up fairly quickly if the men questioned them.
As he signalled for the third engine to be started, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Waiting for the engine to bite, he gave an ‘ok’ signal to the cockpit before turning towards the inevitable confrontation.
“Ja?” he asked, his entire German vocabulary exhausted in that simple question.
The German solder pointed at the Junkers and said something inaudible over the sound of the engines.
Hamley played for time, cupping his hand to his ear and acting as though he had not heard.
As the German tried to repeat his question, Commander Matheson stepped past him and smiled disarmingly at the irritated guard.
(Italics in German)
“Why are you harassing my Unterfeldwebel, Gefreiter?” Matheson yelled over the roar of the radial engines.
The Airman balked, noticing the Hauptmann’s insignia on Matheson’s flight jacket.
“Sir, there were not meant to be any departures until 0800 hours, the base Kommandant’s orders.”
“I know that Gefreiter,” Matheson replied emulating the dismissive air of German officers he had dealt with during his time as a prisoner of war. “The Kommandant however does not out rank Generaloberst Stumpff. We have orders to depart at first light for his Fliegerdivision headquarters. at Pas De Calais Y.our Kommandant will not get in the way of that.”The Luftwaffe airman visibly shrank at Matheson’s words.
“I’m Sorry Herr Hauptmann,” The man stammered, “I will inform them you left when the tower staff come on duty.”“Good, see that you do.” Matheson replied testily. “Come Unterfeldwebel Heinrich, we have been delayed long enough by this imbecile.” The two men made their way back towards the waiting Junkers and climbed aboard, sealing the door after themselves. “Where did that come from Sir?” Hamley asked, collapsing into one of the troop seats.Matheson grinned. “Good wasn’t it? I just used a bunch of names I’d heard while we were in the camp and acted like a total arse… seemed to work rather well.” Hamley shook his head and smiled. “Sir, that was the best bloody performance I’ve seen since that Charlie Chaplin character did that one about Hitler.”Laughing, Matheson took an exaggerated bow and made his way up to the cockpit as Maddox began manhandling the large aircraft across the grass apron.Sliding into the left seat, Matheson slipped on the headphones and gripped the yoke. “All ok?” he asked looking across at the other pilot.Maddox nodded, “All green, let’s get out of here before they clock on to us.”
“Roger that,” Matheson agreed as he eased the aircraft onto the grass runway and opened the throttles.The heavy Junkers began to accelerate down the runway, its rugged construction doing nothing to dampen the jolts and vibration.Pulling back on the control column, the two pilots eased the ungainly aircraft into the sky and for the first time in two years, away from German soil.Climbing up to six thousand feet, Matheson levelled off and made a sweeping turn onto a north-westerly heading, pulling a map out of the side pocket, he began to assess their location.http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/airborne_zps46c31db7.jpg~originalThe base they had stolen the Junkers from was in the town of Wulfershausen in southern Bavaria. That placed them almost at the heart of Germany, and some four hundred miles from home.“How do you want to play this?” Matheson asked the Lieutenant. “We can shoot straight, carry on with the direct approach, or we swing south and through France.”Maddox studied the map before looking across at his friend. “If we go straight, we pass Essen, Cologne and Düsseldorf… The yanks are apparently blowing the heck out of the big urban centres during the day now, but if we’re past there early enough I think it should be fine. I’d rather not delay by running around France all day.”Matheson scratched his chin and stared out of the window deep in thought. The sun was creeping into the sky to start another day and the world around them was emerging from the cocoon of darkness, Shadows stretching across the landscape like cracks in the surface of the earth.To go north, meant running the gauntlet of Germany’s Industrial Heartland, to expose themselves to not only greater scrutiny, but the potential threat of allied raids. West however, was no better he thought. A detour around Düsseldorf and Cologne, would add hours to their journey, four hundred miles was already stretching his rough estimate mathematics for their endurance. He estimated they had three to four hours of fuel at best. No, France would not do: They daren’t land to refuel, he had played the disgruntled German officer with two sleepy guards, but at a busy airfield it would be suicide.“We go north, screw the yanks and screw the Jerrys… We’re going home.” He added firmly, glancing at Maddox. “It’s the only shot we have.”Maddox nodded, He would follow Commander Matheson into the jaws of hell if he asked. The two had served together aboard Ark Royal before their capture. Both naval aviators, they were often isolated amongst the Royal Air Force and American prisoners at the camp. Maddox had come to respect the Commander immensely in their time together. His decisions were well thought out and always with the best interest of those under his command. If Matheson said north… they would go north.
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/craterroad_zps20f17d64.jpg~originalAs the aircraft droned onwards, the men felt the pressure easing. The further they flew, the further captivity was behind them. The fact that they were still within German borders was irrelevant: They had escaped and they were duty bound to return home to fight once more.http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/fly_zps80b23201.jpg~originalAfter an hour of flying, the countryside began to transform into an urban carpet as they flew over the outskirts of Cologne. The pilots began to scan the sky around them for signs of other aircraft, both friend and foe. Matheson had Barkley and Hamley manning the waist guns in the troop transport. While attack by German fighters was unlikely, the chance of an errant Allied escort fighter having a shot at them was extremely high.“For god’s sake, if one of those silly bastards does shoot at us, try not to kill him.” Matheson ordered over the intercom.As the words left his mouth, Matheson spotted fires to the north. “Looks like they’re raiding Düsseldorf, “he observed. “We’re lucky I suppose.” Maddox replied gazing at the destruction raining down upon the city. “That looks a hell of a lot worse from where I’m sitting.” He added, “All those people…”“It’s a lot different flying a stringbag off the Ark and whacking Jerry shipping isn’t it?” Matheson asked his friend.Maddox nodded. “I don’t know how those Airforce boys do it… even after the Blitz… I mean, the German civilians… they’re like our lot aren’t they?”“Well there’s your fair share of Nazi wallahs,” Matheson pointed out, “But yes, mostly, they’re just like our lot, suffering like our lot… this bloody war.” He sighed.http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/raid_zps1b62456e.jpg~original
They flew on in silence, Germany burning behind them.Before long, they had crossed the Belgian border and were soon over Antwerp, the coast in sight.“I can’t believe we’ve nearly made it.” Captain Barkley gushed as he stood in the cockpit door, his eyes fixed on the English Channel.“We’ve not made it yet Sir.” Arthur Hamley corrected the Captain. “We’ve still got to somehow make it down in England without being shot to pieces by our own lot.”
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/leavingcoast_zps97081cc4.jpg~original“My god, what are we going to do?” Barkley asked, his elation fading in the face of his growing realisation. “The bloody air force will shoot us down without a second thought.”“I think I have a plan,” Matheson replied slowly, “We’ll find out.”“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Barkley asked indignantly, the man’s panic showing.“Just keep your eyes out for any friendlies ok?” Matheson added, winking at the Captain. “It won’t work if they see us first.”“Sir, I think that’s Ramsgate!” Hamley chimed in across the intercom as they came in sight of the south cost of England. “Yes, it is I can see the convent up by the hill sir.”http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/Escape/ramsgate_zpsffc58ebc.jpg~originalMatheson pulled back the throttles and began to descend. “Ok, we’re going to put down at Manston… It’s a designated emergency landing site for damaged aircraft returning from the continent, they expect unannounced aircraft… so they will be watching us.”“How is that going to help boss?” Maddox asked uncertainly. “They’re going to see a Jerry troop transport.”“Let me handle that, just find the damn landing lamps will you?” Matheson replied scanning the sky around them.“Sir, Spitfire at four o’clock high closing fast.” Hamley called out, the note of alarm in his voice evident even over the intercom system.Matheson kept the aircraft flying straight, but pulled back further on the throttles slowing the aircraft. With a roar, the spitfire shot past them high to starboard and began a wide banking turn to come at the aircraft for a second pass.As the aircraft rolled level and made its approach, Matheson waggled the Junker’s wings several times.http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/intercept_zpsc4236b46.jpg~original“Alright Maddox, hit the beams, Give me a morse for ‘BRITISH’ Commander Matheson called, still rocking the sluggish aircraft’s wings in a passive compliance gesture.The spitfire roared past them a second time, his guns silent. Matheson could only imagine the pilot’s confusion at the strange behaviour of the German invader.Continuing his signals, and Maddox repeating the mores message on the landing lamps, they waited, hoping that their message would not be misunderstood.“He’s coming around from the rear, slowing sir.” Hamley called, watching the fighter from the open rear door.“He’s going to fire!” Barkley whined forlornly, giving up hope. “Come on you silly sod.” Matheson muttered to himself, gripping the control yoke more firmly than needed.“Sir he’s matching our speed.” Hamley relayed, the tension managing to affect even the stalwart Irishman.The spitfire drew level with the cockpit of the Junkers. Matheson could see the masked pilot eying them.Sliding open the side window, he gave the fighter pilot a thumbs up gesture and pointed down.The fighter hesitated for a moment, coordinating with control. He glanced at the Junkers a few times before wagging his own wings, pointing down and banking away towards Manston. Repeating the gesture, Matheson banked the aircraft to follow the accelerating spitfire.“My god, it worked.” Maddox muttered over the intercom, a broad grin spreading across his face, “It bloody worked!”“Not yet old chap.” Matheson replied lining the aircraft up for the approach to Manston’s runway. “Still the trigger happy snowdrops to deal with.” The large Junkers settled heavily onto Manston’s concrete runway, bouncing twice in the hands of its inexperienced crew. The escorting spitfire that had followed them down gunned his engine and began to climb away for his own landing approach.
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/escort_zpseded313c.jpg~originalTurning the aircraft off the main runway, Matheson brought them to a stop in front of a number of waiting vehicles. The Royal Air Force police and a detachment of soldiers waiting with shouldered weapons.
http://i317.photobucket.com/albums/mm365/rosefern_album/capture_zpsd6b5d41c.jpg~originalCutting the engines, Matheson followed the others out of the rear door and raised his hands. “Thanks for letting us land old sport,” he called to the gruff looking military police Sergeant.“Well you picked a bad place to land today Kraut,” growled the Sergeant, training his webley on Matheson. “Do I look like a Jerry to you?” Matheson replied with a grin.“Actually sir…” Maddox began, trailing of as the Police Sergeant turned his glare on him.“We’re prisoners of war Sergeant,” Matheson explained. “We stole this aircraft to escape Germany.”“You certainly are one now.” One of the solders called to a smattering of laughter.“Prisoner of war eh?” the Sergeant asked sceptically, approaching Matheson and plucking at his flight jacket. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you Herr Frtiz.”Matheson chuckled, “What these old rags?” he asked innocently, fingering the leather jacket., “Now Sergeant, I know the snowdrops aren’t completely useless, so engage your issued brain. Do you really think Jerry would let me take one of his kites for a joy ride if I turned up in my blue number ones?”Matheson walked past the stunned man and plucked a German cigarette from his jacket pocket before stopping to light it. He turned to the Sergeant and held out his hand. “Commander Andrew Matheson… His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”
The End. If you’re interested, the morse for British was -… .-. .. - .. ….Fliegerdivision – Flight Division
Gefreiter – Airman
Hauptmann – Captain or Flight Lieutenant
Generaloberst – Air Chief Marshal
Unterfeldwebel – Staff Sergeant
Thanks for reading, any comments or thoughts are always welcome.
Rachael