‘Oh, thank God,’ Bobby said.
When Stanley and Arthur came back from examining the fuselage, both looked pale, with grim, set expressions. Stanley shook his head.
‘No survivors,’ he said. ‘It’s just these pair. Patch them up as best tha can, veterinary, and let’s get them down to yon hospital.’
Chapter 21
Getting the Polish airmen down the mountain safely was no small task. First the rescue party had to wait for Charlie to splint and bind the broken limbs and apply iodine to the wounds of the most badly injured man before dressing them. When this had been completed, the wounded had to be loaded very carefully on to the stretchers without causing them further damage. Bobby and Gil covered them with a couple of blankets each. The man who had spoken to Bobby earlier was now trembling, although he remained unconscious.
‘Could be the fever, or he might be showing signs of hypothermia,’ Charlie said, eyeing the man with concern. ‘I’ve got nothing to give him other than more aspirin. We need to get him to the doctor.’
‘It’ll be three hour at least afore we’re back in t’ village, Charlie,’ Gil said.
‘I know. Tuck the edges of those blankets in tight so they’re properly swaddled up, all right?’
Bobby was examining the other man by the light of the bicycle lamp.
‘Charlie,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I don’t think he’s breathing.’
Charlie came over and took the man’s wrist, then brought his ear close to his mouth.
‘He’s not dead but the pulse is very faint,’ he said. ‘He is breathing still but only barely. We need to get him down as soon as we can to have any chance of saving him. Both are critical but this one’s near death.’ He glanced at Gil and Stanley. ‘Stan, me and you are likely to have the best combination of strength and speed. We’ll take the worst one down and Gil, Wilf, you come along to relieve us. Arthur, you and the other men follow with his mate.’
‘What about me?’ Bobby asked.
‘You’re not strong enough to bear a stretcher but you’re the nimblest on your feet,’ Charlie said as he and Stanley lifted the stretcher. ‘You’ll be our scout, Bobby. Take the bicycle lamp and go on ahead – get back to the village as fast as you can. Tell old Doc Minchin we’re coming down with two survivors. Explain what happened and what their injuries are in as much detail as possible so he can prepare. My guess is that the less injured man is the rear gunner, who would have been thrown clear when the turret broke off. The other who was thrown might be either the pilot or the navigator. The men in the belly of the plane weren’t so lucky, unfortunately.’
Arthur nodded soberly. ‘I reckon that’s right, from what Stan and me saw in there. It’s pilot and rear gunner we mun have here.’
‘Anything else?’ Bobby asked Charlie.
‘When you’ve given the doctor his instructions, take a bike to Sumner House and let the two women waiting there know what to expect,’ he said. ‘They’ll appreciate someone who can take command, if you’ve any strength left by then. I’ll meet you there with the patients.’
‘Right. Good luck, gentlemen.’
Bobby shot off down the hill, overruling the pain from her blistered heel. She had expected Charlie to assign her a safe but essentially useless job suited to her sex, such as mopping the men’s brows as they descended, and was rather gratified to instead be sent on as scout. It made sense to have someone go ahead to speak with the doctor, and Charlie was right; she was the lightest on her feet. If she’d been in charge up there, she would have done the same.
She made much better time descending the mountain than she had ascending it. Bobby might never get her clothes clean again, or indeed herself, but by using the mud to her advantage, she was able to half-walk and half-slide back to Silverdale – often on her bottom rather than her feet.
It was strange, she reflected as she righted herself again after another slide, how she and Charlie had seemed to change places once they reached the top of the mountain. When the plane had gone down, Charlie had looked rather panicked and helpless, and she had intuitively taken charge of organising the rescue party. But when there were injured men to attend to, the skill and compassion that served him well in his career as a vet had naturally given him the authority. It had taken the two of them working together to save lives tonight – if, indeed, they had saved them. She thought of the injured pilot, his pulse weakening by the second, and quickened her pace still further.
She didn’t know how long it took her to get down, but she supposed it was a little under two hours flat, which she was sure ought to be a record. By the time she clambered over the stile in Troy’s field, exhausted and aching, she was limping badly. She had blisters on both heels and several toes, one ankle was swollen, and she’d torn her leg quite nastily on a clump of gorse she hadn’t seen in the darkness. She was also trying desperately not to think of what she’d seen on the mountainside: the smouldering corpse of one of the aircrew, hanging from the plane wreckage. But still her inner motor kept her going, determined to finish the job she’d been assigned, and she didn’t slow down as she ran the last quarter of a mile to the village green.
Despite the lateness of the hour – or the earliness, since it must now be morning – most of the village seemed to be gathered there, waiting to catch a glimpse of the rescued airmen should any have survived. Blackout rules had been put to one side on this night of crisis, with lamps glowing dimly here and there, and items the villagers had collected were piled up on a table someone had brought out: blankets, clothes, tinned food, even gramophone records. It made Bobby smile, in spite of her worry and the pain in her feet and leg. They’d wanted to help and they hadn’t known how, so they’d shown their concern in the most Silverdale way possible.
Hands reached towards her as she made her way through the crowd to where Reg’s Wolseley was parked.
‘Miss Bancroft, what’s to do?’ someone demanded, grasping her shoulder to stop her progress. ‘Any survivors?’
‘Nay, there can’t have been,’ another man said. ‘Bad crash, it were. You can still see t’ smoke, look.’
‘Two survivors,’ Bobby panted, shaking away the hands that were trying to claim her attention while she struggled to get her breath back. ‘Free Polish aircrew. The men are bringing them down. I have to find the doctor.’
Reg and Mary were both by the car, as was her father. It was he who spotted her first.
‘Bobby, lass.’ He pushed through the crowd to pull her to him for a rare embrace before guiding her back to where Reg and Mary were. ‘We’ve been worried to death about thee. What’s happening then? Where’s rest on ’em?’
‘Coming,’ she said. ‘They’re coming down with two survivors. Dad, I must find the doctor. Have you seen him?’
