Micky was at my side as soon as I reported it. ‘Let’s have a look, mate.’ I hardly heard him. I wanted to see whether it would turn in our direction. ‘Come on, give us the glasses. Other people want to ‘ave a look besides you.’
‘In a minute, Micky,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to lose it. It’s very faint.’ But the ‘plane held its course, and in the end I let him have the glasses.
‘Gawd, it’s a Jerry all right. You can see the double fin.’
That’s more than I could,’ I said. ‘You can barely see the ‘plane itself.’
‘Well, it’s a Jerry anyway.’
‘How many times have I told you, Micky, that not all Jerries have double fins and not every ‘plane with double fins is a Jerry,’ said Langdon. ‘Here, give me the glasses.’
It took some persuasion even for Langdon to get the glasses from him. And when he had them Micky muttered something about sergeants having all the fun.
‘Well, whose glasses are they?’ asked Langdon tolerantly. Young though he was for a sergeant — he was only twenty-two — he had a fine understanding of the handling of men. Inevitably your first impression was that he was slack. And he was slack in things dear to the tradition of the Army. He had no hard-and-fast rules. His site was often rather untidy. He allowed his men tremendous licence. Yet no-one, not even Micky, took advantage of it. He was cool and efficient in all things that he thought mattered — things that would lead to greater accuracy in firing. His men liked him, and unhesitantly obeyed those commands that he did give. He never upbraided a man. Yet I never heard anyone, not even Bombardier Hood, question his authority. They obeyed him because he was a born leader and not just because he had three stripes.
Faced with Langdon’s tolerant friendly smile, all Micky’s pugnacity vanished in an answering grin. ‘I know, mate. I know. They’re yours, ain’t they. Anyway, I seen all I want to of the ruddy thing.’
For some time we stood watching the cluster of searchlights moving southeast. ‘Cor, love old iron, I’d like to have a crack at it, wouldn’t you, mate?’ Micky asked me.
‘Yes, I would,’ I said. ‘I’d like to send it crashing to earth. Funny how war changes one’s outlook. One gets a war mentality. I never thought Pd exult in killing. Yet here I am wanting with all my heart to kill three men. I suppose one develops the mentality of the huntsman. All one thinks about is the excitement of the chase. One doesn’t give a thought for the poor devil of a fox. And yet inside that ‘plane are three human beings, much the same as you or me. Probably none of them wanted war. They’ve come over just obeying orders. There are shells bursting all round them. There’s probably a smell of burnt cordite in the cockpit. They’re all probably feeling pretty frightened.’
I had been speaking more to myself than to Micky, for I did not really believe that he would understand what I was talking about. And when he spoke I knew that he hadn’t. ‘Course they wanted this war. Machine-gunning women and children, that’s what they like. The cowards! Look at the way they’re running out of the barrage. They can’t take it, mate, I tell you.’ Then suddenly he gave me a sidelong glance. ‘It’s a bastard kind of war,’ he said. ‘Cold steel, that’s what I like. I don’t mind ‘em when we’re firing at them. But I can’t stand just having them coming over and not doing anything. The infantry — that’s what I wanted to join. Did you know I volunteered for the Buffs? But they said there wasn’t no vacancy. I’d have to wait a month. And I couldn’t wait — straight, I couldn’t. I wanted to get at ‘em right away. They said I could go straight into the R.A. That’s how I came to join this bleeding outfit.’
He hesitated, watching me out of the corners of his eyes. I said nothing. ‘You think I’m silly about the lights an’ all, don’t you? You think I’m a coward because I keep my gas mask and tin hat on when there are Jerries about. Well, I ain’t, see. Give me a baynet and I’d go over the top with the best of ‘em and never give a thought to the fact that I might get killed. But I can’t stand this inaction. This place is driving me nuts.’
‘I understand,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been here long, but the atmosphere of the place is too tense to be pleasant.’
‘Remember when that formation came over Wednesday? I was scared stiff, mate, I tell you. They seemed to fill the sky. It didn’t seem as if they could miss. And then we started firing at them an’ I wasn’t a bit afraid, was I?’ And when I made no comment, he said: ‘Funny! I can talk to you.’
‘I know how you feel,’ I said. ‘It isn’t cowardice. It’s frustration. I feel the same myself, but it doesn’t show in the same way.’
‘Gawd! I’d give anything to get out of the place. I’d like to go to Egypt. There’ll be fighting in Egypt — real fighting. Hand to hand, mate — that’s the way to fight. Not like this.’
‘It’s nearly one,’ Langdon said. ‘Will you go and wake the others, Fuller?’
Fuller had barely left the pit when Chetwood suddenly said: ‘Have a look at that bunch of searchlights away to the north, John. Looks like a ‘plane.’
Langdon swung round and put the glasses to his eyes. ‘By God! You’re right, Chet,’ he said. ‘And it’s coming this way.’
I followed the direction in which his glasses were pointing. The criss-cross of searchlights showed quite plainly beyond the downs. And in the centre of it I saw — or thought I saw — a speck of light. I couldn’t be certain. Your eyes play you funny tricks after you’ve been straining them into the dark for some time. One minute it was there and the next minute it wasn’t. But the searchlights came steadily nearer, and I could see little pin-points of shell-bursts very near the centre of the criss-cross.
Soon the searchlights on the ridge of the downs were in action and there was no doubt about there Using a ‘plane in the beams. It was quite visible now to the naked eye and growing more distinct every second.
‘It’s only about eight thousand feet and seems to be coming lower,’ said Langdon. ‘I should say it’s been hit.’ We watched it, breathless, expecting at any moment to see it turn off its course. But it continued to come straight on towards Thorby. ‘I think,’ said Langdon slowly, ‘we’re going to see some action.’
His voice was very cool and calm by comparison with my own excitement. I remember thinking how young and boyish he looked, standing there, his tin hat tilted on to the back of his head and his eyes intent on the ‘plane. There was no ack-ack now. But the searchlights held it, and faintly over the still night air came the throb of its engines. I could see the shape of it now, the wide spread of its wings all silver in the dazzling beams.
‘All right, layers on,’ said Langdon. ‘Fuse nine — load!’ I handed the shell to Micky. He lowered the breech and rammed it home with his gloved hand. The breech rose with a clang. ‘Set to semi-automatic.’
Fuller came running back into the pit. The ‘plane was at about 5,000 feet now and still heading straight for us. The layers reported, ‘On, on!’ Langdon waited. The throb of the engines beat upon the air.
Suddenly came his order: ‘Fire!’
A flash of flame and the pit shook with the noise of the explosion. I found I had another round in my hands. I held it for Micky to ram home. The gun crashed. Fuller came up with another round. I had a vague impression of that bright spot in the midst of the searchlight; the flash of our own shells and those of the other three-inch exploding just to the right of it. And then it seemed to fall apart in mid-air. I stood stupefied, with the next shell ready in my hands. The port wing crumpled and the nose dropped, so that we could see the big double fin of a Dornier. And then it began to fall, the wing bending back and separating itself from the rest of the ‘plane.
‘My God!’ Kan cried. ‘It’s coming down. Oh, my God! This is too exciting.’
It fell very quickly. And as it fell it grew much larger, so that I suddenly realised that it was coming right down on the edge of the ‘drome. I had a momentary glimpse of the big black cross on its one remaining wing. Then it hit the ground. One searchlight had followed it right down so that we actually saw the nose strike into the ground among some bushes to the north of the ‘drome. The tail snapped off as it struck, and the whole plane appeared to crumple. An instant later came the sound of the impact. It was a dull thud splintered by the noise of rending metal. I remember being surprised that the sound of the crash should come after the ‘plane had hit the ground. There was something almost supernatural about it, as though it had spoken after it was dead. I noticed this apparent phenomenon many times afterwards and, though I knew it to be quite natural since sound travels slower than sight, it always surprised me. There was something rather horrible about it. I was one of the things that always made me feel sick inside.