John Wingate
Carrier
The Battle of the Atlantic
Glossary
ACLANT — Allied Command Atlantic
AEW — Airborne Early Warning
AIRCENT — Allied Air Forces Central Europe
ALC — Armed Landing Craft
Anvil — Soviet Sub-surface Air Missile
ASI — Air Speed Indicator
ASW — Anti-Submanne Warfare
AWC — Air Warfare Coordination
AWO — Advanced War Officer
CAM — Corner Aircraft, Helicopter
CAP — Combat Air Patrol
CINCEASTLANT — C-in-C East Atlantic
CINCCHAN — C-in-C Channel and North Sea
COMBALTAP — Commander Allied Forces Baltic Approaches
COMSTANAVFORLANT — Commander Standing Naval Force Atlantic
COMSTRIGRUTWO — Commander Sinking Group Two
COMSUBEASTLANT — Commander Submarine Forces Eastern Atlantic
DDG — Destroyer, Guided Missile
DLG — Frigate, Guided Missile
ECM — Electronic Countermeasure
ECCM — Electronic Counter-Countermeasure
ELINT — Electronic Intelligence
EW — Electronic Warfare
FCS — Flight Control System
FCSS — Fast Combat Support Ship
GDB — Gun Director, Blind
HCO — Helicopter Controller
HE — High Explosive, also Hydrophone Effect
ICBM — Intercontinental Ballistic Missile
IFF — Identification Friend or Foe
LRMP — Long Range Maritime Patrol
MAC — Merchant Aircraft Carrier
MEM — Marine Engineer Mechanic
MEO — Marine Engineer Officer
MLA — Mean Line of Advance
NDB — Nuclear Depth Bomb
PMO — Principal Medical Officer
PPI — Plan Position Indicator
PWO — Principal Warfare Officer
RAS — Replenishment at Sea
SACLANT — Supreme Allied Commander Atlantic
SAR — Search and Rescue
SATCOM — Satellite Communications
SLBM — Submarine-Launched Ballistic Missile (USA), Sea-Launched Ballistic Missile (Nato)
SOBS — Senior Observer
Sosus — Sound Surveillance System
SPLOT — Senior Pilot
SSBN — Submarine, Strategic Ballistic Missile Nuclear
SSK — Submarine, Diesel
STANAVFORCHAN — Standing Naval Force Channel
STASS — Ships’ Towed Array Surveillance System
Ts — and Ps — Temperatures and Pressures
UKADGE — United Kingdom Air Defence Ground Environment
VCNS — Vice-Chief Naval Staff
VLCC — Very Large Crude Garner
V/STOL — Vertical or Short Take-Off and Landing
Chapter 1
It was the nausea that came with the dawn which woke Allie Gamble to semi-consciousness. She tried to sleep, curling herself against Hob, feeling the stubble of his chin against her shoulder — but it was no good: she had not felt so sick for as long as she could remember.
She slithered from between the sheets and tiptoed to the dormer window tucked into the gables of Leat Cottage, their first real home, and smiled to herself as she edged back the primrose curtains: there was the usual old blackbird, whistling his morning hymn. She turned towards the bed, her eyes lingering on Hob’s profile: he was like a child lying there, relaxed in sleep…
Hob had told her only the bare outlines of what happened during that terrible Wednesday of 2 January. She could never forget that day and night waiting for the telephone call from MOD: watching him asleep like this, it was impossible to brush away the fleeting image of death, of Rollo Dalglish and Hob in the blazing Lynx and it was to Rollo, Hob’s captain and observer, that Hob owed his life.
Rollo was dead when the American frigate had picked him up, lashed to Hob’s life raft.
Allie jumped as the alarm clock shrilled by her side of the bed.
Hob was awake immediately, his arms outstretched to her. His bushy black eyebrows beneath the fair hair which stood up like a shaving brush lent his face a humorous, quizzical look which belied his toughness. Though Hob was gentle to her, he was ambitious — the most professional person she had ever met. He frightened her sometimes: flying came first in his life, even before herself.
She stepped back as he tried to encircle her thighs with his hands.
‘Lieutenant Gamble!’ she scowled down at him where he lay, bare-chested, blue-chinned, eyes laughing, those blue-green eyes which missed nothing. ‘You’re duty pilot today. You need every bit of strength and concentration.’
She watched the wide smile slowly spreading across his face, leaned down to kiss him on the cheek as he crooked his arms behind his tousled head. ‘You’ve forgotten what’s happening today.’
‘No, I haven’t. First Sea Lord’s visit.’ Hob turned towards the window. ‘What’s the day like?’
‘Jolly grockling weather,’ she smiled.
It was only six days since Easter and already the grockles — or tourists — had provided round-the-clock work for the Search and Rescue Squadron, the Wessex boys. She was thankful that Hob had gone back to Sea Kings after Icarus and that he was again with his friends in 814 Squadron: he needed people round him after that awful night. He had loathed the publicity which descended on him after his DSC, when Captain Trevellion and the other survivors were honoured at the Palace. Though the tragedy was over three months ago, it was still vivid in both their minds.
‘Anyway, Allie, the Sea Kings are lucky, combining two jobs in one. At least, I’m not forced to wait in the base like the SAR crew.’
It did not feel like wartime. It was only as Hob glanced at the two stripes on his sleeve that he remembered that it wasn’t peacetime either — a pregnant limbo had settled over the whole world since 2 January. He braced his shoulders. He’d had enough of introspection and could leave the future to those who were unlucky enough to have its destiny in their hands. The abortive summit meeting two days ago at Geneva had been bad news. Meanwhile, he had his work which, thank goodness, was never the same two days running at Culdrose — and he eased the car into the ditch to allow an empty school bus to squeeze by him in the lane leading into Wendron.
The morning was brisk, the fluffy clouds streaming in ragged battalions from the Atlantic. There had been another late frost and the hedgerows were grey and silver where they lined the fields. The sweet scent from the gorse spikes nodding in the gateways wafted through his open window: a good flying day, if the fog kept away.
814’s duty pilot was required an hour earlier than usual; the grockles were giving trouble already. The First Sea Lord’s visit would be affected if Hob did not get a move on — but he was chuffed he had picked the job: a good augury for Lieutenant Gamble’s future, as well as confirmation that he had satisfied the instructor during his Sea King conversion course. Duggie Mann, the Squadron CO, had hinted that he might be asking for Hob as his senior pilot in Furious. Hob should know any day now, because 814 Squadron was joining the carrier on Monday when she came into Mount’s Bay.