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Our Father's Generation. F. M. WordenЧитать онлайн книгу.

Our Father's Generation - F. M. Worden


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next day, we walked around the village and talked to the friendly village people. We hiked in the hills north of the town and stumbled into a well hidden antiaircraft battery. From the crew we learned a lot about the defense of the south coast of the UK. There had been many troops there, but since the invasion by the Nazis looked to be called off, the men were back in training for the invasion of their own of France. There were patrols by land, sea and air, also spotters all along the coast. I asked if they had shot down any enemy aircraft. The crew chief told us, “A bomber crashed and burned a meter north of us, we were damn sure we got him.” When he told us that, all the crew let out a big cheer, we visited with the boys several more times.

      The day we were to leave, we had to drive at night as enemy fighters were strafing the roads all day. It was safer to travel the roads at night. On our last walk, we entered a small jewelry shop a few doors east of the hotel, Sarah wanted to shop, I wanted to buy her something. She asked the shop keeper, “Do you have a ring with an Aquarius birth stone? I want-a keepsake to remember our days spent together here in Hastings.”

      He showed us a ring with a purple amethyst stone, she had to have it. I paid the man.

      “I want to buy you something, Tommy.” I shook my head no. He showed us his last German wrist watch, she purchased it and wanted my old watch, I gave in.

      Back at Tangmere Airfield, my days were consumed with my Squadron, flying and air combat. My charges were learning quickly, our squadron became one of the top. The Huns were not letting up, we had plenty to shoot at. Most of their bomber boys were less trained than ours, we had many sitting ducks.

      I hadn’t seen Sarah in weeks, so I went looking for her. At her quarters, I ran into her friend Maggie. “Have you seen Sarah?” I asked.

      “Didn’t you know? She transferred to North Weald.”

      “When did she do that?”

      “Soon after she came back from your trip, don’t go looking for her, I don’t think she wants to see you anymore.”

      I was dumbfounded at this news, I didn’t know what to say, I just walked away in shock.

      At the airfield, I had a note to see the CO. “Tom, Headquarters wants a Photographic Reconnaissance Pilot, you want the job?”

      “You bet,” I answered. I was ready for something else. I checked in at Heston Airfield a day later. I was to fly an unarmed Spitfire and take pictures of different sections of the coast of France from Antwerp to Cherbourg. The headquarters wanted to know about all about the defense the Nazis were building along the coast. My Spitfire was as fast a plane that was in existence, it would outrun anything the Nazis had. Thank God, I had to use the speed all the time. I got to see some of the pictures I took; it made me do a better job knowing what to look for.

      I had been on the reconnaissance job for several weeks. I decided to go find Sarah. On the first day off, I borrowed an auto and drove to North Weald, I checked with the WAAF office. They told me that Sarah had been transferred to Hornchurch. So I was out of luck finding her this day.

      It was quite awhile before I got some time off. I borrowed an auto again and drove to Hornchurch., Just by accident, I found Maggie.

      “Maggie, have you seen Sarah?” I asked.

      “Haven’t you heard? Sarah and two other girls were killed in a raid last May, they were in a bunker that took a direct hit.”

      I was devastated; Maggie could see I was in bad shape. I sat down on the ground and covered my face with my hands, Maggie sat down next to me and said, “I’m sorry, Tom, to be the one to tell you.” I couldn’t help it, the tears flowed.

      Maggie sat there with me for I don’t know how long, I was so sick I wanted to die. Maggie finally got up and said, “I have a letter for you from Sarah in my quarters, I’ll go get it.” She got up and left. Soon she returned and handed me an envelope addressed to {Tom, the only man I will ever love.}

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