‘Now then, tell me the whole story,’ said Langdon as he slipped his trousers over his pyjamas.
Briefly I outlined the events of the night, with some reference to the things that had led up to them.
‘And what do you suggest this detachment does?’ he asked when I had finished.
‘Surrounds the lorries,’ I replied. ‘No officer is going to send out an urgent warning to all the other fighter ‘dromes unless this ridiculous story of mine is backed up by some concrete evidence. If you find these lorries are harmless, I don’t care what happens to me. Anyway, I know they’re not harmless.’
‘All right. We’ll do that. Are you willing to leave these two men in my charge, Corporal? I’ll make myself personally responsible for them?’
‘Very good, Sergeant.’
‘Oh, just a minute, Corporal,’ said Langdon as the other was leaving the room. ‘Hanson here expects the lorries to be parked somewhere on the northeast side of the landing field. Will you notify all Guards’ posts along this side of the field that in the event of rifle fire being heard they are to close in on four R.A.F. lorries. The personnel of these lorries are dressed in R.A.F. uniforms.’
‘Versa good, Sergeant. I’ll do that.’
As he went out, Micky appeared in the doorway, looking rather sheepish. ‘And I’ll bet you didn’t go out after fifth columnists,’ said Langdon as he put on his battle top.
Micky looked uncomfortable, but said nothing.
‘All right. Go and get your rifle,’ said Langdon.
A sudden glint of eagerness showed in Micky’s eyes. ‘An’ baynet, Sarge? Cold steel! That’s the stuff to give the bastards.’
‘All right.’ Langdon turned to me. ‘I don’t know whether it has any bearing on the position, but Squadron-Leader Nightingale drove up to the pit at about twelve-thirty. There was an alarm on at the time. He asked for you. When I told him that you were missing, he ran back to his car and drove off at a terrific lick. He had that Waaf of yours with him.’
‘He knows the situation,’ I said. ‘He got in touch with a fellow on my paper for me. He may have got some fresh information.’
Bombardier Hood came in. ‘Well, they’re all dressed, Sergeant. And I’ve kept them in the hut.’ His tone conveyed his complete disagreement with the arrangement.
‘All right. Come on, then, Hanson. And I hope to God this doesn’t prove to be a fool’s errand.’ Langdon led the way out of the room and into the hut, where one hurricane lamp was all that lit the gloom of the blackout.
Everyone was crowded round Micky. They fell silent as we entered. Every face was turned towards us. ‘Get your rifles,’ ordered Langdon. ‘Issue twenty rounds per man, Bombardier Hood. Fuller, you will remain as sentry.’ Whilst the rounds were being issued, Langdon said: ‘Hanson has returned to camp with a story of an air invasion at dawn. Four lorries have arrived on the landing ground which he says are manned by fifth columnists whose job it is to put a smoke screen across the ‘drome at the appropriate moment. I intend to investigate these lorries. We will surround one of them and I shall go forward and examine it myself. It will be your job to cover me, and if there’s any truth in Hanson’s story I shall rely on you to cover me properly. Micky, Chetwood, Helson and Hood, you will carry hand grenades. You’ll find them under my bed. Right, let’s get going.’
Outside the moon, though low in the west, was bright by comparison with the gloom of the hut. A faint pallor snowed in the eastern sky. I glanced at my watch. It was past four. ‘Dawn will soon be breaking,’ I said.
‘Will they attack before it’s light or after?’ Langdon asked me.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I should think about half-light. They would want to get the troop-carriers in before it was light enough to make them an easy target for our fighters.’
As we passed the pit, the stocky barrel of the three-inch lifting darkly against the moon, Langdon said: ‘Helson, my bike is over there. Will you bring it along? I may want you to act as a runner if anything happens.’
‘O.K., John. Shall I bring the gun as well?’
The laughter that greeted his remark was derisive. Ken’s rather high-pitched laugh and Chetwood’s deep bellow rang out clear above the others. I glanced back. The detachment was following us in a ragged bunch, and I noticed that Kan and Chetwood were walking on either side of Hood. He was talking and they were listening intently. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but for a second his eyes met mine, and I knew that if by any chance the lorries turned out to be harmless it would go ill with me.
Half unconsciously I quickened my pace as we reached the tarmac edge of the landing field. Langdon and I walked in silence. For myself, I began to feel uneasy, almost frightened. The events of the night seemed more like a dream than the reality I knew them to be, and now that I had persuaded Langdon to action I had an unpleasant feeling that I might be wrong. All my self-confidence seemed to have been expended in my effort to obtain this positive action. Langdon, too, was anxious. If I was wrong, he would look a fool in the eyes of his detachment and would have some awkward questions to answer when I came up on charge in the morning.
We passed the dispersal point to the north of our site. We were half-way to the next dispersal point when Hood joined us. ‘Where are your lorries?’ he asked.
The question was pertinent but the way he put it was almost exultant. In that moment I came as near to hating anyone as I have ever done. Dimly I could now make out the trees and scrub at the north end of the ‘drome. The tarmac roadway, a ribbon of white in the moonlight, curved away to the left as it followed the perimeter of the landing field. Nowhere could I see any sign of the lorries. I felt a sudden sinking sensation inside me. The gravel pit by Cold Harbour Farm seemed so far away and unreal. I felt scared. ‘We’ll cut down behind the next dispersal point,’ I said. They’ve probably spread out along the slope in order to cover as much ground as possible with the smoke.’
Hood grunted. His disbelief was quite unmasked. I sensed that Langdon was feeling uncomfortable and ill at ease.
We struck off the tarmac on to the dry, coarse grass. We passed the crumbling sandbags of what had once been a Lewis gun pit. In places the grass gave way to bare, baked earth. The grass became thick and more plentiful, however, as we reached the slope and passed behind the great bank of the dispersal point. We threaded our way between two bomb craters, relics of Friday’s raid, stumbling over heaps of loose clay that were hard like bricks.
At last we came in sight of the wire that stretched like a dark snake across the grass half-way down the slope. Two men moved along it, carrying a heavy cylindrical object between them. They were in R.A.F. uniform. I touched Langdon’s arm. I had a sudden feeling of triumph. My relief was so great that I could hardly speak. ‘That looks like one of the smoke cylinders,’ I said.
We had stopped, and for a moment we watched the two men along the wire with their burden. The others crowded up behind us. They had stopped talking, sensing some development. ‘All right,’ Langdon said. ‘Leave your rifle, Hanson, and come on with me. The rest of you get down in the grass and don’t make a sound.’
Langdon and I went forward alone. We did not attempt to conceal ourselves. We walked diagonally along the slope and at every step more and more of the wire came into view. Two more men in R.A.F. uniform appeared, carrying another cylinder between them. And then at last we sighted an R.A.F. lorry parked against the wire at a crazy angle. Four men were busy unloading the cylinders from it. One of the Guards’ sentries was leaning on his rifle watching them.
‘Good enough,’ said Langdon. ‘So far as it goes you’re right.’
We turned and retraced our steps. ‘What do you mean — so far as it goes?’ I asked.
‘Well, I’ve got to satisfy myself that they shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing.’