Ronnie found himself thinking, once again, of the role he played in the total destruction of human lives, but it was the job he was tasked to do. The burden lay not only on his shoulders, but on those of the leaders and generals who orchestrated this war. He was acting in defence of his country.
In August he was sent to fly sorties over Dieppe, where the British army intended to land in an attempt to take the French coastline back from the Germans. Ronnie set out in the early hours of the morning of 19 August. His mission was to accompany a flight of Bristol Blenheim bombers destined to attack the German armed artillery defending the coastline. As he neared the French coast, he was met by a barrage of anti-aircraft fire from the Bismarck guns on board battleships.
Ronnie could feel the sweat running out from beneath his pilot’s helmet. It was seeping into his eyes and mouth. Flying conditions were abysmal. He could barely make out what lay before him. Every cloud shape that appeared in front of him seemed to take on the form of enemy aircraft. Despite the coldat that altitude, he was perspiring profusely from the fear of crashing his plane. Although the sun was rising, the visibility was virtually zero, due to the smoke bombs being aimed at the squadron. The German aim was to impede their progress, confuse the Bristol bombers and make the view of their targets virtually impossible. The poor visibility was compounded by the burning fields of wheat below them, creating an impenetrable smokescreen.
Ronnie tried several times to engage the Luftwaffe pilots in air combat, sweeping down upon them and opening fire, banking away swiftly to avoid any retaliation. To his amazement, the pilots didn’t respond but turned tail and ran, as if declining to engage in the fight.
‘I see what you’re up to,’ Ronnie said to himself and grinned. ‘So, you want to play cat and mouse? Well, I’m game.’ He smirked. ‘Ronald to Squadron Leader, permission to pursue bandit at one o’clock.’
Ronnie was given the go ahead and he, along with the rest of the squadron, continued to follow the Messerschmitts deeper into France. This was exactly what the German pilots wanted them to do. Ronnie pursued the Messerschmitt for some time until he looked down at his fuel gauge. The dial signalled that he was low on fuel and couldn’t pursue the German plane much further. He turned his Spitfire around and headed back towards the coast. At least he’d taken the pilot away from his defensive position, leaving the landing crews with a freer passage to the shoreline. The land- based guns would still be firing on the foot soldiers, but at least the removal of the threat from the air improved their chances of survival and that was what this war was all about, surviving, one day at a time.
Eventually, the skies cleared and Ronnie could see that he was accompanied on the flight back by two other Spitfire pilots, one on either wing. He acknowledged their presence throughradio contact and learned that the other two pilots were Mad Major and Titch. The three of them flew in formation back towards the safety of the English Channel and home.
Ronnie was settling into what he hoped would be a trouble-free flight, when he heard a warning over the radio.
‘Titch to Ronald — bogey at three o’clock.’
Ronnie acknowledged the warning and kept his eye on the mystery aircraft. By the time it got close enough for him to identify if it was friend or foe, the enemy aircraft identified itself by firing on them. They quickly responded by making battle formation with Ronnie at the helm. However, the Messerschmitt pilot was not on his own. Out of the cloud cover came two more planes. They were now evenly matched. Ronnie fired as soon as they were in range and the two other pilots followed suit. In one assault, from the lead Messerschmitt, Ronnie was hived off from the other two Spitfires and found himself out on his own. Titch responded by radioing his support.
‘I’ve got your back, Ronald.’
The enemy aircraft converged on Ronnie and engaged him at every turn, making it impossible for him to escape.
‘Get out of here, you two,’ Ronnie responded. ‘At least you’re sure of escape while they are on me. What point in all of us dying? Leave me, I’m done for.’
At that point, one of the German pilots hit his target. Ronnie felt the impact as the bullets scattered ‘ack,ack,ack,ack’ along the side of his plane. He felt a searing pain in his leg and right side, as several of the bullets pierced the fuselage and entered his body. He let out a scream in agony and struggled to keep control of the plane as it began to lose height. The fuel tank must have been hit because he could smell diesel and the fuel gauge was descending rapidly towards empty. The plane began to spiral and plummet through the clouds. Ronnie drifted in and out of consciousness. His first experience of crashing in Francehad been a lucky escape. Perhaps this time he would not be so lucky. The faces of Sarah and Anthony appeared before him. His mother, Kate, Tilly and Dot, and Amelia swept across his field of vision. The feeling of floating down to earth beneath his parachute, the last time, came back to him. Of course! He must act now or it would be too late. He was losing height too fast. The plane would hit the ground before he could bail. He could hear Sarah pleading with him, see Anthony crying, feel Tilly shaking him.
‘What are you doing, Ronnie? Get up off your seat and fight. You’re giving up. You’re leaving us to mourn your death, just because you decided to sit here and give up. Move, damn you, move,’ she yelled.
‘Don’t accuse me of giving up, Tilly. I won’t be accused of being a quitter. I’m a Truscott and a Locock. I don’t give up,’ he shouted to the howling wind, blowing through the open canopy.
He wrenched the canopy open further, so that he could squeeze through. He climbed out onto the wing for the second time. Would this jump end as well as the last? Would he be on the ground within minutes, rolling up his parachute and hiding it out of sight? Or would he be bleeding to death with a broken leg, unconscious and waiting to be picked up by the enemy? He had to take his chances, like all the rest of the men fighting in this war.We don’t get to choose the time of our death, he thought,but we can fight against it coming too soonand fight he would. He had so much to get home for. His fate lay before him. He might be lucky and escape more injury and capture, or he might end up in enemy hands and incarcerated as a prisoner of war. Who knew?
As he hit the ground, the pain in his right leg reverberated through his entire body. He could feel the blood trickling down his side. He passed out with the parachute billowing on top of him, no knowledge of where he was or if he had landed in themidst of imminent danger. He no longer cared — at least he was still alive.
* * *
Tilly took some time to recover from her injuries. She was very frustrated by having to wait before she could return to active service, but there was nothing she could do. She just had to give in. She kept up to date with the progress of the war through the radio. Dot and Amelia wished that she would not keep hankering after returning to the battlefields. One morning, Tilly felt a shudder move through her. She woke with a start, calling Ronnie’s name. Something wasn’t right, she was sure of it. This parting didn’t feel the same. She didn’t feel good about it. She always tried to swallow her fears when they parted and just hoped, like so many other families did, that they would both survive and meet again. This time, she was acutely aware of him being in imminent danger. It was a very disquieting feeling. She tried to suppress her fears, but they kept rising to the forefront of her mind.
Tilly felt their bond even more strongly than ever before. It was as if she had a sixth sense when he was in particular danger. A warning valve went off in her head. They said that twins had that sort of closeness. They weren’t twins, but they might as well be. She wondered if he had the same feelings as her. The family hadn’t heard from Ronnie for some time and she didn’t have a good feeling about that. She tried not to let her fears dominate her thoughts, but that was easier said than done. She had to do something to take her mind off her worries. She needed to get back to her duties.
Chapter 34
On 10 November 1942, Churchill spoke at length about the victory at El Alamein: ‘This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is perhaps the end of the beginning.’
Such words did not sit well with the public. In homes all over the country, people were hoping to hear good news but the war was even more widespread than ever. America had entered the war after the attack on Pearl Harbour in 1941 and American troops were now deployed, alongside the other Allied forces, all over the world, including Europe, North Africa, the Pacific and Japan. The war showed no signs of abating. Tilly and Fliss returned once more to England, leaving Jed and Captain Banks to be given a short respite before being redeployed. Both women had vowed to stay in touch with the men who had captured their hearts and promised that they would all meet up when this war ended. None of them dared plan a future because the future was unexplored territory and no matter how much they willed it, there was no certainty that their wishes would ever come true.
Tilly had done her best to communicate with the family, but it was virtually impossible for letters to reach her with any regularity in North Africa. So, when she made it back to England, battle-weary and sleep-deprived, she was completely out of touch with the family news. Dot was now living back with Amelia again on the Isle of Wight, so the first thing she did when she arrived back at the School House was to cuddle the new addition as she had yet to meet her.
‘She’s lovely, Dot. What a clever mum you are. What’s her name?’
‘Jemima,’ Dot replied.
‘Just like Jemima Puddle-Duck.’ Tilly smiled. ‘My favourite story when I was little.’
‘I know, but that wasn’t why I named her that. Jemima means peace, freedom and hope,’ Dot explained.
‘A good name for times like these,’ Tilly agreed. ‘Have you heard from Ronnie at all?’
