Once More the Hawks Read Online Free PDF Page B

men – for the most part just as new to the service themselves – who were training to become aircrew. It was clear that, because he was wearing Babington’s brand new mackintosh and side hat, Fisher was assuming he was one, too.
    They walked to the end of the flare path, a line of goose-necked paraffin flares which reminded Dicken how far behind the Americans the RAF’s airfield lighting was.
    ‘Better stand over there,’ Fisher said briskly.
    ‘You seem to know the ropes,’ Dicken said mildly. ‘Have you done much flying?’
    ‘About a thousand hours,’ Fisher said casually. ‘It begins to grow boring when you get that many in.’
    Dicken smiled. ‘I’m sure it does. Night flying?’
    ‘Plenty of that.’ Fisher picked up the Aldis lamp and flashed green to an aeroplane at the end of the runway that was anxiously giving its letter as it sought permission to land. ‘It’s in France where you learn to fly, you know. That’s why I’m here. Rest. Crashed. You wouldn’t know about that, of course.’
    The chatter went on all evening, Dicken thoroughly enjoying himself. The following day, he accepted Tom Howarth’s invitation to give a talk to the new aircrews.
    ‘Gives them a bit of a kick to see someone they’ve actually read about in magazines,’ he said. ‘Mind, you’ll very soon find out that they know who’s going to be fighting this war – them . And–’ Howarth smiled ‘–bless ’em, they’re dead right, of course.’
    The talk was short but for Dicken the most entertaining part by a long way was the sight of young Fisher sitting below him in the front row full of his own importance. By this time, Dicken’s uniform had been cleaned and dried and when he rose he was in the full fig of a wing commander’s rank with two rows of medal ribbons beneath his wings.
    Afterwards, he saw Fisher waiting by the door. He looked very hot under the collar.
    ‘Permission to speak to you, sir,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve been a bloody fool.’
    Dicken laughed. ‘Yes, you have a bit,’ he agreed. ‘But I shouldn’t let it worry you. It’s something we all suffer from at your age.’
    ‘I never dreamed, sir–’
    ‘Especially in that hat I was wearing.’
    Fisher managed a nervous smile. ‘I’ve just discovered who you are, sir. I’ve read about you. I owe you an apology.’
    ‘I don’t think you do,’ Dicken said. ‘But I expect you’ve discovered something I discovered very early in my career. When you shoot a line, it’s a good idea first to find out who it is you’re shooting it to.’
     
    The communications job lasted two more boring months before Dicken received a call from Hatto to report to the Air Ministry. He found Hatto in a bad temper.
    ‘Usual trouble,’ he said. ‘Somebody isn’t pulling his finger out. The navy’s complaining that unidentified aircraft are flying over Chatham and Portsmouth and that our Sound Locator System isn’t giving them the proper warning. “Sound Locator System”, as you well know, is the name we give to this radar device of Watson-Watt’s. It isn’t working as the navy wants it to, but they can’t get a satisfactory answer from the Air Staff. I’m going over there now. Your first job with this department, therefore, is to look after the shop till I come back.’
    When Hatto returned his face was grave. Even his monocle looked subdued.
    ‘Something wrong?’
    Hatto frowned. ‘Not half there isn’t. The navy’s getting no satisfaction at all. Every time they claim somebody’s flying over them all they get is a snotty letter complaining about the number of times they bring the subject up and insisting that the system’s reliable. And you know who signs the letters?’
    ‘I’ll have a guess. Diplock.’
    ‘Diplock. Chief of Staff to St Aubyn. And it fits the half-baked attitude at the top at the moment. After all, if all we’re doing is bombing the Germans with leaflets, why not this? If I can persuade the navy to lend us an