Chapter 2
Part 3
It was on that trip north that I ran into an old friend from the Whippets destroyer squadron at Darlington Station, Lieutenant Peter Smith First Lieutenant of the Destroyer Greyhound. We literally bumped into each other in the tea room. I was looking for a table for Rebecca and I when I was nudged from behind. Turning to apologise for blocking the door I saw Peter white faced and with his jaw hanging lose.
“Rich, b but I, you I”. He looked like he was about to pass out, so I grabbed his arm and led him to a table while Becca got three teas.
“Peter, take a deep breath. That’s it. In and Out. In and Out. Now what’s got you spooked?”
“Rich I thought, we all thought you were dead”
Crash!! Ahhhhh!! Thud!!! Rebecca had come back just as he said that, and fainted.
The Girl behind the counter dashed over and helped me bring her round, and promised to bring over three sweet teas. She got a rather large tip that day.
“Now Pete, why did you think that?”
“Well Rich, after your glorious entrance to Dover in November as you know the Whippet was sent to Chatham for an overhaul, which was when you got called to the Admiralty. When that was done she was transferred to the Harwich squadron. We all thought you were with her as, as far as anyone knew your attachment was only for a couple of weeks.”
That was said just as I took a drink and I ended up snorting tea out my nose.
“Yes that’s what I thought as well.” I said as I cleaned myself up.
Peter then noticed that Rebecca was with me, and had an extra ring on her finger.
“God Becks you actually went through with it and married him? I thought you were going to ditch him and marry me?”
“I don’t think your wife would like that Pete, Sara’s funny that way. And how many times have I told you not to call me that?” She shot back at him, the colour going back into her cheeks. “Yes I did. We had planned to wait but with the war and Rich at the Admiralty I thought do it now while we can, because there’s no telling when the next opportunity will be. Not that Gramps saw it that way. Ever since we told him we were doing it now, every morning he shot looks at my waist.” “It’s a bit hypocritical of him I’ve seen his wedding certificate and dads birth certificate and let’s just say dad must have been a miracle baby been born seven months after the wedding. To hear Gramps talk he and Granny never so much as held hands till after the honeymoon.”
That light hearted moment over Peter resumed his story.
“From what we can make out she was patrolling the route into Holland when contact was lost. At first no one thought anything of it, her wireless was always temperamental. When she was late back to Harwich thought of she’s just broken down again. A large number of bets were taken on what would tow her in this time. The favourite was a Thames barge. Anyway by the evening people were getting worried so a couple of seaplanes were sent out to look for her. All they found was some floating wreckage including part of one of her ships boats, badly scorched. The theory is she either hit a mine or stopped a torpedo. There were no survivors.”
“Christ when was that?” I said earning a clip round the ear from my beloved for it.
“Last Saturday in January”. Becca and I just gulped, that was our wedding day.
Our train was called then so we left him there, as we began the final stretch of our journey. Let me tell you the trip from Darlington to West was anything but an express. I’d swear that at times it would be quicker to walk.
Finally we reached West to be met by my mother and to my surprise my brother David. He was so pale and thin I wondered how he was out of hospital. Mum may have read my mind, as it always seemed she could, because the first thing she said after the obligatory hugs was “It’s just for this afternoon the say getting out and about now and then will help him adjust. Anyway let’s get you both home we’ve a surprise for you.”
So in we got in Fathers latest toy a Stanley Steamer car and went back to my childhood home. What the surprise was became apparent as soon as well pulled into the drive. The old carriage house looked different with a new flight of stairs on the outside leading to what had been the hay loft. As we helped David out of the car and into his wheelchair Dad grabbed our bags and took off up the stairs. Once we had David settled we followed dad upstairs while David wheeled himself into the ground floor of the carriage house.
“We thought you two would appreciate your own space.” He said as we heard the sound of an electric motor.
“So what do you think?” David asked, then without waiting for a response led us through what turned out to be a four room flat. A kitchen, bathroom, living room and of course a bedroom made up the flat. It was a very nice little flat and I was speechless as I tried to figure out the cost.
“Now none of that” said David it didn’t cost anything like you’re thinking. Some of the tradesmen from the yard got together and did this including the Lift for me. This is going to be mine once they think I’m fit enough, but the damned physiotherapists want to keep me there for another few weeks. It’s yours for as long as you need it.”
The next morning I reported to the sea plane flight at Seaton at the ungodly hour of 5am. While waiting for the commanding officer to arrive I started to notice that things seemed a bit off. It was nothing that I could put my finger on but there was a tension in the C.Os office that you could almost cut with a knife. Looking at the name on the C.Os door I saw that the name was the same as a Sub Lieutenant on one other ships in HMS Drakes squadron when I was a new Midshipman. Surely I told myself that this Lieutenant Commander Andrews could not be the same officer as then Sub Lieutenant Andrews terror of the Gun Room and Mids anywhere in the navy. I certainly hoped so as Drew as he liked to be called had been a drunken sadist and allegedly a pervert as well. If it was the same man then it would explain the atmosphere in the office.
Sadly my hopes were dashed as in through the door strode Drew Andrews, immaculate as ever in his highly polished shoes and cap set at its usual rakish angle. He always had admired Beatty and tried to copy his image. Superficially he pulled it off, until you got a good look at his eyes, cold, harsh, arrogant cunning eyes. He was obviously the same first rate bastard that he had been nine years earlier, and he was looking at me with absolute loathing. I found out later that this was partly because the date of my promotion was earlier than his and my rank was permanent while his was only an acting rank.
I was greeted with a curse “Price in now” he barked slamming the door behind him.
“I don’t care whose arse you’ve been kissing to get that half stripe but I command here and don’t you fucking well forget it. I don’t need you and certainly don’t want you but while you’re here you’ll do what I tell you when I tell you and keep you fucking mouth shut. This is my command and I don’t need some admiralty wanker like you sticking his nose in.”
I couldn’t believe it this was supposed to be a commanding officer screaming at the top of his lungs at a fellow officer in clear earshot of maybe a dozen ratings like a common fish wife. I could tell that my time here would be a struggle just to keep my temper.
“Right you useless bastard as you come from the Admiralty you obviously know paperwork so deal with this lot, and don’t approve any transfers or leaves this traitorous lot of shites I’m stuck with don’t deserve it and I don’t fucking care if their granny has just died, or their sisters got the pox they’ll stay here till I fucking decide otherwise”
With that he threw the entire in tray which must have been piled eighteen inches high with paperwork at me and stormed out of the office, and that was the last I saw of him for the next three days thankfully. It took nearly two days just to get through the backlog of paperwork, some of which should have been dealt with more than a week before but eventually I got caught up. It was on the third day that I actually got to fly going from the Tees to Scarborough and twenty or so miles out to sea, scanning the surface for floating mines, periscopes and the like. God it felt good to be out of that dreary office and into some good clean(ish) air. For the first time since reporting for duty I started to enjoy myself. I even cut the engine at one point and glided down to maybe 100 feet off the sea before switching it back on and climbing back to 1500 feet. It was just me the sea and the sky, no war, no Drew Andrews and absolutely no paperwork.
Sadly it was not to last as when I finally landed there was Andrews reeking of beer and stale perfume waiting for me.
“Who the fuck gave you permission to fly you arsehole! I thought I told you that you did what I told you when I told you and nothing else. By the time I’m finished with you, you bastard you’ll be lucky if the sodding French Foreign Legion will take you as a boot polisher. You go anywhere near one of my fucking aircraft again without my say so and I’ll have you fucking shot”
This sort of thing went on for the next month and I could see what could have been a fine unit disintegrating before my eyes. I’d tried talking to the camp commander but before I even started he cut me off saying he wasn’t going to listen to any personality clashes, all he cared about was that the patrols were flown on schedule and that nothing went through channels that would blot his copy book. Fortunately the commander was absent when things came to a head otherwise it would have all been swept under the carpet otherwise.
As was my habit I was checking round the hangers and squadron area when I heard what sounded like someone moaning “No, please no don’t” Well as you can imagine I tried to track down that moan, which was no starting to sound like someone crying when there was the sound of flesh striking flesh and cloth ripping. Going white I sent the petty officer who was with me to fetch the two largest Royal Marines he could find. What worried me apart from what I could hear was the predatory look on the P.Os face. I had a sickening thought that I knew what I was hearing and the P.Os reaction gave me a feeling that I knew who was doing the hitting. Then as the P.O returned with two Marine sergeants I heard it, that same hated voice Drew Andrews.
“Listen you little shite you’ll do what your told and there’s no point in complaining they’ll never believe you, now fucking well bend over and take it like a man.”
I saw red and charged round the corner closely followed by the P.O and the sergeants, there he was Drew Andrews caught in the act of trying to bugger a 15 year old boy seaman. The next thing I knew my fist was enclosed in the hand of one of the sergeants while he was telling me.
“Don’t sir, he’s not worth it and if you did hit him it would be you in the glasshouse not that thing. The men are going to need you to repair the damage, and he’s finished any way.”
Screaming that he’d have us all shot for mutiny, biting and trying to kick with his trousers round his ankles Andrews was dragged off to the guardroom. I had the victim young James Mathews taken to the sickbay for the doc to look over and hopefully give him something to help him sleep and put the whole disgusting affair behind him. I would end up taking the lad under my wing as my orderly to give him a chance to recover.
I then headed back to the office to begin the process to lead to Andrews Courts Martial. As the stations commanding officer was on leave I had to report to the Royal Naval Air Service’s headquarters about the assault so spent the next day flying down to Eastchurch to explain the whole sorry business, and the mess the squadron was in. This led to the station commander being replaced and me being put in temporary command of the squadron. I had a lot to do if I was going to both save the squadron and be ready to join Campania and Admiral Johnson.
Part 3
It was on that trip north that I ran into an old friend from the Whippets destroyer squadron at Darlington Station, Lieutenant Peter Smith First Lieutenant of the Destroyer Greyhound. We literally bumped into each other in the tea room. I was looking for a table for Rebecca and I when I was nudged from behind. Turning to apologise for blocking the door I saw Peter white faced and with his jaw hanging lose.
“Rich, b but I, you I”. He looked like he was about to pass out, so I grabbed his arm and led him to a table while Becca got three teas.
“Peter, take a deep breath. That’s it. In and Out. In and Out. Now what’s got you spooked?”
“Rich I thought, we all thought you were dead”
Crash!! Ahhhhh!! Thud!!! Rebecca had come back just as he said that, and fainted.
The Girl behind the counter dashed over and helped me bring her round, and promised to bring over three sweet teas. She got a rather large tip that day.
“Now Pete, why did you think that?”
“Well Rich, after your glorious entrance to Dover in November as you know the Whippet was sent to Chatham for an overhaul, which was when you got called to the Admiralty. When that was done she was transferred to the Harwich squadron. We all thought you were with her as, as far as anyone knew your attachment was only for a couple of weeks.”
That was said just as I took a drink and I ended up snorting tea out my nose.
“Yes that’s what I thought as well.” I said as I cleaned myself up.
Peter then noticed that Rebecca was with me, and had an extra ring on her finger.
“God Becks you actually went through with it and married him? I thought you were going to ditch him and marry me?”
“I don’t think your wife would like that Pete, Sara’s funny that way. And how many times have I told you not to call me that?” She shot back at him, the colour going back into her cheeks. “Yes I did. We had planned to wait but with the war and Rich at the Admiralty I thought do it now while we can, because there’s no telling when the next opportunity will be. Not that Gramps saw it that way. Ever since we told him we were doing it now, every morning he shot looks at my waist.” “It’s a bit hypocritical of him I’ve seen his wedding certificate and dads birth certificate and let’s just say dad must have been a miracle baby been born seven months after the wedding. To hear Gramps talk he and Granny never so much as held hands till after the honeymoon.”
That light hearted moment over Peter resumed his story.
“From what we can make out she was patrolling the route into Holland when contact was lost. At first no one thought anything of it, her wireless was always temperamental. When she was late back to Harwich thought of she’s just broken down again. A large number of bets were taken on what would tow her in this time. The favourite was a Thames barge. Anyway by the evening people were getting worried so a couple of seaplanes were sent out to look for her. All they found was some floating wreckage including part of one of her ships boats, badly scorched. The theory is she either hit a mine or stopped a torpedo. There were no survivors.”
“Christ when was that?” I said earning a clip round the ear from my beloved for it.
“Last Saturday in January”. Becca and I just gulped, that was our wedding day.
Our train was called then so we left him there, as we began the final stretch of our journey. Let me tell you the trip from Darlington to West was anything but an express. I’d swear that at times it would be quicker to walk.
Finally we reached West to be met by my mother and to my surprise my brother David. He was so pale and thin I wondered how he was out of hospital. Mum may have read my mind, as it always seemed she could, because the first thing she said after the obligatory hugs was “It’s just for this afternoon the say getting out and about now and then will help him adjust. Anyway let’s get you both home we’ve a surprise for you.”
So in we got in Fathers latest toy a Stanley Steamer car and went back to my childhood home. What the surprise was became apparent as soon as well pulled into the drive. The old carriage house looked different with a new flight of stairs on the outside leading to what had been the hay loft. As we helped David out of the car and into his wheelchair Dad grabbed our bags and took off up the stairs. Once we had David settled we followed dad upstairs while David wheeled himself into the ground floor of the carriage house.
“We thought you two would appreciate your own space.” He said as we heard the sound of an electric motor.
“So what do you think?” David asked, then without waiting for a response led us through what turned out to be a four room flat. A kitchen, bathroom, living room and of course a bedroom made up the flat. It was a very nice little flat and I was speechless as I tried to figure out the cost.
“Now none of that” said David it didn’t cost anything like you’re thinking. Some of the tradesmen from the yard got together and did this including the Lift for me. This is going to be mine once they think I’m fit enough, but the damned physiotherapists want to keep me there for another few weeks. It’s yours for as long as you need it.”
The next morning I reported to the sea plane flight at Seaton at the ungodly hour of 5am. While waiting for the commanding officer to arrive I started to notice that things seemed a bit off. It was nothing that I could put my finger on but there was a tension in the C.Os office that you could almost cut with a knife. Looking at the name on the C.Os door I saw that the name was the same as a Sub Lieutenant on one other ships in HMS Drakes squadron when I was a new Midshipman. Surely I told myself that this Lieutenant Commander Andrews could not be the same officer as then Sub Lieutenant Andrews terror of the Gun Room and Mids anywhere in the navy. I certainly hoped so as Drew as he liked to be called had been a drunken sadist and allegedly a pervert as well. If it was the same man then it would explain the atmosphere in the office.
Sadly my hopes were dashed as in through the door strode Drew Andrews, immaculate as ever in his highly polished shoes and cap set at its usual rakish angle. He always had admired Beatty and tried to copy his image. Superficially he pulled it off, until you got a good look at his eyes, cold, harsh, arrogant cunning eyes. He was obviously the same first rate bastard that he had been nine years earlier, and he was looking at me with absolute loathing. I found out later that this was partly because the date of my promotion was earlier than his and my rank was permanent while his was only an acting rank.
I was greeted with a curse “Price in now” he barked slamming the door behind him.
“I don’t care whose arse you’ve been kissing to get that half stripe but I command here and don’t you fucking well forget it. I don’t need you and certainly don’t want you but while you’re here you’ll do what I tell you when I tell you and keep you fucking mouth shut. This is my command and I don’t need some admiralty wanker like you sticking his nose in.”
I couldn’t believe it this was supposed to be a commanding officer screaming at the top of his lungs at a fellow officer in clear earshot of maybe a dozen ratings like a common fish wife. I could tell that my time here would be a struggle just to keep my temper.
“Right you useless bastard as you come from the Admiralty you obviously know paperwork so deal with this lot, and don’t approve any transfers or leaves this traitorous lot of shites I’m stuck with don’t deserve it and I don’t fucking care if their granny has just died, or their sisters got the pox they’ll stay here till I fucking decide otherwise”
With that he threw the entire in tray which must have been piled eighteen inches high with paperwork at me and stormed out of the office, and that was the last I saw of him for the next three days thankfully. It took nearly two days just to get through the backlog of paperwork, some of which should have been dealt with more than a week before but eventually I got caught up. It was on the third day that I actually got to fly going from the Tees to Scarborough and twenty or so miles out to sea, scanning the surface for floating mines, periscopes and the like. God it felt good to be out of that dreary office and into some good clean(ish) air. For the first time since reporting for duty I started to enjoy myself. I even cut the engine at one point and glided down to maybe 100 feet off the sea before switching it back on and climbing back to 1500 feet. It was just me the sea and the sky, no war, no Drew Andrews and absolutely no paperwork.
Sadly it was not to last as when I finally landed there was Andrews reeking of beer and stale perfume waiting for me.
“Who the fuck gave you permission to fly you arsehole! I thought I told you that you did what I told you when I told you and nothing else. By the time I’m finished with you, you bastard you’ll be lucky if the sodding French Foreign Legion will take you as a boot polisher. You go anywhere near one of my fucking aircraft again without my say so and I’ll have you fucking shot”
This sort of thing went on for the next month and I could see what could have been a fine unit disintegrating before my eyes. I’d tried talking to the camp commander but before I even started he cut me off saying he wasn’t going to listen to any personality clashes, all he cared about was that the patrols were flown on schedule and that nothing went through channels that would blot his copy book. Fortunately the commander was absent when things came to a head otherwise it would have all been swept under the carpet otherwise.
As was my habit I was checking round the hangers and squadron area when I heard what sounded like someone moaning “No, please no don’t” Well as you can imagine I tried to track down that moan, which was no starting to sound like someone crying when there was the sound of flesh striking flesh and cloth ripping. Going white I sent the petty officer who was with me to fetch the two largest Royal Marines he could find. What worried me apart from what I could hear was the predatory look on the P.Os face. I had a sickening thought that I knew what I was hearing and the P.Os reaction gave me a feeling that I knew who was doing the hitting. Then as the P.O returned with two Marine sergeants I heard it, that same hated voice Drew Andrews.
“Listen you little shite you’ll do what your told and there’s no point in complaining they’ll never believe you, now fucking well bend over and take it like a man.”
I saw red and charged round the corner closely followed by the P.O and the sergeants, there he was Drew Andrews caught in the act of trying to bugger a 15 year old boy seaman. The next thing I knew my fist was enclosed in the hand of one of the sergeants while he was telling me.
“Don’t sir, he’s not worth it and if you did hit him it would be you in the glasshouse not that thing. The men are going to need you to repair the damage, and he’s finished any way.”
Screaming that he’d have us all shot for mutiny, biting and trying to kick with his trousers round his ankles Andrews was dragged off to the guardroom. I had the victim young James Mathews taken to the sickbay for the doc to look over and hopefully give him something to help him sleep and put the whole disgusting affair behind him. I would end up taking the lad under my wing as my orderly to give him a chance to recover.
I then headed back to the office to begin the process to lead to Andrews Courts Martial. As the stations commanding officer was on leave I had to report to the Royal Naval Air Service’s headquarters about the assault so spent the next day flying down to Eastchurch to explain the whole sorry business, and the mess the squadron was in. This led to the station commander being replaced and me being put in temporary command of the squadron. I had a lot to do if I was going to both save the squadron and be ready to join Campania and Admiral Johnson.
(that's one thing that kind of annoyed me when the Ciaphas Cain books first came out, I had a flick through, pointed out the similarities to Flashman, and noone at my Gamesworkshop had a clue what I was talking about). Anyway I'm rambling, very well written and the personal angle's a nice original touch.