Piece of Cake by Derek Robinson

Author:Derek Robinson [Robinson, Derek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2013-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

MAY 1940

For Hornet squadron the war really began on the tenth of May 1940 at two minutes past noon. At the time, however, none of them realized this. Eleven of the twelve Hornet pilots knew nothing about it because they were all looking the wrong way. The twelfth, Hugo Trevelyan, was dead.

Even before he died Trevelyan was feeling weary. They all were; nobody had slept terribly well. The fortress guns on the Maginot and Siegfried Lines had rumbled and thundered all night, and the pilots had been pulled out of bed at three-thirty. It was light when they gathered at the airfield, with nothing for breakfast but mugs of tea. Before they could finish drinking it, they were ordered off. According to the ops officer enemy aircraft were all over the place, but a thick haze blotted out everything up to five thousand feet, and above that the sky was a light blue blank. An hour and a quarter later they landed, got the first news of the invasion of Belgium, ate a real breakfast, and flew another patrol. By now fires on the ground were scorching holes in the haze and pushing bundles of smoke up through it. Rex saw several clusters of aircraft at a great distance, looking as tiny as pinheads, and failed to get near any. A second breakfast was eaten at ten-thirty. The ops officer had them airborne again at eleven-fifteen, patrolling a line Metz-Luxembourg. That ended any lingering doubts. If the fighting had entered Luxembourg, the big bust-up was on.

By twelve noon they were at eighteen thousand feet, and breathing oxygen. Rex had the flights close-echeloned to starboard. The Hurricanes were snugly interlocked, wings well overlapped, and Rex was content; but automatically he said: “Keep it close, chaps. Nice and tight.” Over the town of Luxembourg they turned, sprawling slightly, and tightened up again as they flew south. “Bandits at eleven o’clock,” Rex said. “Prepare for a number two attack.”

After such a long and empty morning, the shock of seeing twenty German bombers affected everyone: the entire squadron twitched and rippled as the pilots leaned forward to look. They were Heinkel 111’s, rank upon rank parading toward France. Behind them came an escort of Messerschmitt 110’s, a couple of dozen in groups of four, stepped up as if to give everyone a good view ahead. At first glance they looked frighteningly many and powerful. At second glance they were a bloody marvelous target.

Rex maneuvered the squadron, changing speed and course to bring about the correct angle of interception. Each wingman watched his leader, each leader watched Rex; and when they could they glanced at the glittering enemy, a thousand feet below. Hugo Trevelyan was Green Two, the last man on the right. He was paying special attention to Green Leader, not wanting to lose him if the formation suddenly turned. He neither saw nor heard the Messerschmitt 109 that dropped out of the sky behind him. It fell below and used its momentum to arc upward so that the Hurricane flew into its sights.

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