“What about Singapore and Malaya?” Woollcombe looked at the appendages to India. “Do we have fighters there? And can we use them?”
“We have four squadrons of bombers in Singapore. 36 and 100 Squadrons have Vildebeest torpedo bombers; 34 and 60 Squadrons have Blenheims. There’s another squadron, 62, in Malaya with Blenheims. Nothing in Burma worthy of note.”
“We have no fighters in Singapore?” Woollcombe sounded incredulous.
“None.” Baldwin was defensive. “With the war in Europe, our modern fighters were concentrated there. Frankly, we didn’t take the Japanese very seriously. I do have some good news though. We’ve been searching around and we’ve managed to organize six Coastal Defense Flights with a mix of old aircraft we found in storage or used as hacks. Mostly Hawker Harts and Audaxes, but one CDF flight has six Blenheim Is. And we have the Short Singapore flying boats, of course. We actually have a round dozen of them.”
Summerville nodded. The situation was as bad as he and Auchinleck had feared. “We can add a little to that. We have HMS Hermes, of course; she has nine Swordfish on board. We also have the float planes on the cruisers and here on Valiant. That adds two Walrus and six Seafox. But…”
Auchinleck finished the phrase for him. “That still means there is not a single fighter in the whole of India. We have no air defenses; none at all.”
“I would suggest that we can shift our forces around a little to make better use of them. We can reassign the Wapitis from Number 1 squadron to the Coastal Defense Flights and replace them with the Audaxes in those flights. The Wapiti will be as useful for patrolling the sea as the Audax, but the Audaxes will be much superior for army cooperation flights.” Baldwin thought for a second. “Before That Man took Britain out of the war, we were converting some of the Blenheims back home into fighters. This meant fitting a four-Browning gun pack under the belly and taking out some of the equipment not needed for the fighter role. Perhaps we could do the same thing here? 27 Squadron has Blenheims suitable for the conversion. That would give us some fighters, at least. We can also see to training Number Six CDF, they’re the ones with Blenheims, to support the fleet. Admiral, may I ask the aid of your Fleet Air Arm pilots in doing so?”
There was a profound silence in the room. The idea of the Royal Air Force offering aid to the other services and asking for their guidance seemed shocking. In the middle of the room, Summerville and Auchinleck were speaking quietly to each other. Eventually, Auchinleck spoke to the meeting as a whole. “Squadron Leader, your comments and proposals are well-said and well-taken. We need to expand the Indian Air Force to meet the demands placed upon it. Your energy and initiative commend you to the command of the enlarged force. I am therefore, on my authority alone, going to promote you to the rank of Wing Commander with immediate effect. You understand that this promotion has only my personal authority behind it and it may be rescinded by higher authorities should they emerge when the political situation changes. Your first responsibility is to organize the conversion of 27 Squadron’s Blenheim bombers into fighters. This must take the highest priority.”
There was a murmur of approval at the decision, but few eyes were not focussed on the map of India that dominated the wall.
The man wouldn’t have been out of place on any street corner. In the dining room of the Peninsula Hotel, he stood out like a farmer in his dowdy go-to-town best, attending opening night at the opera. Igrat noticed him, of course. She always noticed everything going on around her, even if she gave no outward sign of doing so. She also noted that nobody else seemed to remark on the stocky middle aged man with a head full of slicked down sandy hair in a plain grey suit, so she concentrated on the superb breakfast instead. Her curiosity re-emerged when the same drab fellow appeared again the PanAm terminal. He was sitting quietly in a corner with a newspaper and pot of tea as they waited to board the Clipper.
It wasn’t until the Pan-American Hotel on Wake Island that their paths crossed again. In the early pre-dawn the silence awakened Igrat more than anything. If she strained every muscle, there was a faint throb that might be a distant generator; otherwise, there was only the rattling of palm fronds and slap of the sea on sand. On her journeys out to Asia, she had discovered an enchantment about the dawn here. The isolation, the peace, was something to be savored. Dressing hurriedly, she slipped out of the Pan-Am Hotel and down the path to the beach.
It was still dark between the stunted palm trees. Although Igrat had no difficulty staying on the path, she didn’t see the still figure standing at the head of the strand until she was far too close to back away. The man turned at the sound of her slippers. She recognized him as the curious ‘grey farmer’ from Manila.
“Good morning, Miss.”
Igrat saw a square pugnacious face that could have been quite threatening if it wasn’t offset by an unusually high forehead. There was something else as well, a strange feeling as if a light was flickering softly in the back of her mind.
“Oh, good morning” returned Igrat “I am sorry if I disturbed you.”
“No, you stay as you are, Missie. I’ll move off if you’re looking for some room.” The voice had a gentle fatherly gruffness, although she couldn’t place the accent. “Not that I’d object to a bit of company either.”
With any illusion of solitude shattered, Igrat decided to satisfy her curiosity instead. The light in her mind was still there and she was sure what it meant. “Oh I couldn’t ask you to do that. You were here first. Anyway, I like company.”
“No trouble,” returned the man. “There’s enough island for the two of us.”
“Barely,” laughed Igrat.
“Ay,” he agreed. “And there’s not much here, either.”
“Except the sunsets and the dawn”
“I’ve seen worse.” he nodded. “There’s far worse to be had, that’s for certain. You’ll have to pardon me. Lewis, Essington Lewis; my friends call me Essie for obvious reasons.”
The hand he extended was warm and dry; the handshake firm but not hard. Igrat took it in the same fashion. She’d already decided not to vamp this man. There was something about him she found attractive and, anyway, there was always the light flickering in her mind.
“Irene Shapiro. I’m an actress.”
“Well pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Shapiro, and I’d take Irene over Essington any day of the week. Oh, look out, here she comes.” He nodded at the horizon where the sky was turning a magnificent deep mauve. There was the tiniest spot of light forming where the sky met the sea. Before she could remark on it, a long streak of brilliant green leapt skywards. It formed a distinct pillar for a few seconds and then vanished as the leading edge of the sun’s disk peeped over the horizon.
“A green flash!” Igrat’s voice was awed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of those. Do you think it will bring us good luck?”
“I think it already has, for me anyway.” Lewis was looking at her oddly and a bit guardedly. Igrat knew why, but it was a subject that would have to wait for another time.
“Just what is this?” Rachael looked at the meal on offer from the student’s canteen very doubtfully.
“Bubble and squeak.” David Newton sounded as doubtful as Rachael. “It’s a mixture of leftovers, mostly potatoes and cabbage, all mashed up together and deep fried with sausage. The fat from the sausages flavors the vegetables, you see.”