HIGH FLIERS 

By Rosemary Clarke 

     Oh Danny Boy the pipes the pipes are calling, they are to me, there won't be any 'after the war' for me Hun'll see to that; those flaming onions!

 

     It's just before dawn, lovely sky not a cloud in it.  I wonder what Paddy's doing; at least one of this family is getting it right!  Mum's drinking too much, didn't touch a drop before this damn war now...I know it, the worry, the money how to keep things together but I can't keep all of them!

 

     After all that argument of the SE's I'm flying one; hope the bugger doesn't fall to bits on me or the gun jam...no parachutes still!  How do we fight this thing if H.Q won't give us the equipment!  All I want is a quick death, no flamerinoes for me!  Good, pistol's in my pocket.  They can laugh, Mick taking pot shots at the Huns; Taffy and I know what it's really for.

 

     The waiting for Kiwi seems endless...God knows I'd love to see this place again, I'd even sit through one of those awful plays they're always putting on.  That dream said it though; death's the only real rest you get from this bloody war!

 

     Here comes Kiwi... they're so young now, schoolboys really newly washed and ready for battle, well, I promised him his first blood so here goes; I hope we'll be able to find an early flying two-seater coming over.

 

     Everything looks so bright today, so real as though I'm coming out of a dream, waking up.  The grass seems greener, wet almost emerald with the sun coming up properly now.

 

     I've told Kiwi to follow me up closely and he'll get in a good position to give 'em a good burst.  I don't feel I shall last much longer, spent out but if I'm killed I'll be in good company.

 

  McCudden, Rastas, Bond... Taffy's not done for yet...might even meet the great Albert Bell himself, have a flying lesson.

 

     Wonder how Piddles is; catching more mice or curling up where he shouldn't be most likely.  He'll last it out; cats definately have nine lives!

     Oh look at that a blackbird full of the joys of life, singing his little heart out!  I do love their yellow beaks; a light shining in the darkness.  I do believe he's wishing us luck!

 

     Ten past 5 and still no sign of cloud.  The aircraft look new, glossy and shiny like new toys out of their boxes.  Davidge, Biggs...damn good mechanics... I'll never see these men again.

 

     In and strap up!  Be better up in the air...no balloons as yet; come on old 1294 don't let me down!

 

     Damned eye messing about as usual, no real pain this time, used to it with one eye but that shrapnel; I'm lucky I'm flying at all.  Wonder if we'll see Hun or if it'll be like yesterday, or will I get my 73rd as Davidge said.

 

     They're lovely old buses some of those Hun craft; red and yellow like brightly coloured bugs hovering and dipping in the sky ...shame you have to shoot them down but it's war and they’re shooting at us.  Once round the block; hope Kiwi's keeping up. Nothing as yet, open the throttle and up we go.  Ah, that's better and here comes Kiwi.

 

     Alright here's one coming towards the lines ...get East get East!  God, he nearly had me!  Kiwi's doing well.  Bang on!  Flamerino sizzle... sizzle... wonk!  It's like moths to a flame, must see it go down...will I do that?  Look at him spin!  He's done for, thumbs up to Kiwi there's one in the fire!  Down, down ...bang!  All over for him.

 

     The battlefield's covered with holes and craters, looks like the beginning of Earth no lava though; little men running about.  It's a game isn't it, a huge game ... but who's playing it?

 

     Bloody Hell Archies! Hard right, keep it straight...come on you bastards make it easy for me! 

 

     God I wish this war would end!  God take me back to the boys, get this bus down, let it be alright...

 

     Rudder's gone, looks like it's all over for me... Kiwi's shot up badly too, fuel tank looks like.  Oh God it's happening!  I'm burning on my right side still, I've got my pistol thank God; told 'em I'm not being sizzled! 

 

     INTO THE MESS OR TO BETHUNE!

Copyright Rosemary Clarke