Hammond Innes: Attack Alarm

But there were two things that puzzled me. First, that he should have wasted his bravado on a mere gunner. He must have known that in a very short while he would be interviewed by an Intelligence officer. Surely that would have been the time to release his information if it was to have its maximum effect? The second was, why had he closed up on me the moment he saw Vayle? I could have understood it if it had been the C.O. who had caused him to stop in the middle of a sentence. But Vayle — a man in civilian clothes! It seemed rather extraordinary — almost as though he knew the librarian.

In the end I gave it up. My brain had reached a state when it was impossible for me to argue my way to a solution one way or the other. There seemed so much to suggest that the idea of planting the information about a plan in my mind was dictated by the instinct for revenge, and yet so much to suggest that it had slipped out in the bitterness of the moment when he was too dazed to control his tongue.

I edged my way to where Tiny Trevors was talking to Ogilvie, who had just arrived on the scene. I waited. At length Ogilvie went across to speak to a Guards officer. Trevors turned and saw me. ‘Hallo, Hanson,’ he said. ‘You haven’t waited long to get your first ‘plane. There was something I wanted to speak to you about. Oh, yes.

You were talking in German to that pilot. What did he have to say?’

‘Well, I was just coming to speak to you about it,’ I said. And I gave him the gist of the conversation.

‘I think you had better see Mr Ogilvie,’ he said. ‘There may be nothing in it, but, as you say, the man was pretty shaken. Though I can’t believe a pilot would have information of that kind.’ He look across at the group of officers that Ogilvie had joined. ‘Hang around for a bit and when the Little Man is free I’ll take you — Better catch him now.’ I followed him along the edge of the roadway and we intercepted Ogilvie just as he was entering the Guards officer’s car.

‘Just a minute, sir,’ said Trevors. ‘Hanson has some information which seems interesting.’

Ogilvie paused, one foot on the running-board. ‘Well, what is it?’ he demanded in his sharp staccato voice.

He was a man of small stature, inclined to stoutness, with a round, uninteresting face and horn-rimmed glasses. He lacked a natural command of men. And in place of it he had built an air of aloofness about himself. This did not make him popular. I think he had been in the insurance business before the war. At any rate he was not an O.C.T.U. product, but had obtained his commission in the Territorials. It was perhaps unfortunate that he was in command of a unit in which most of the senior N.C.O.s were socially his superiors. Inevitably, it resulted in his standing on his dignity to an extent that was unnatural. His staccato manner, which was not, I am sure, natural to him, was the noticeable result.

I gave him an account of my conversation with the German. But when I came to my views on the reliability of the information, he cut me short. ‘Quite. I understand. I’ll pass on your information to the proper authorities. Goodnight, Sergeant-major.’ And with that he climbed into the car and left us.

I watched the car disappear with a feeling that the responsibility of bringing the conversation to the notice of men who would know how to assess its value was still time. The proper authorities to whom Ogilvie referred were probably the C.O. Thorby or the Intelligence officer attached to the station. In due course a report on the matter would reach the Air Ministry. But, in all probability, it would be part of the routine reports and would be filed away without even being brought to the notice of those higher officials who were best able to judge its importance. On the other hand, I knew the assistant director if Air Ministry Press Section, and I felt that I ought to a rite to him giving him the details of the conversation.

I mentioned this to Trevors. But he said, ‘For God’s sake don’t do that. You’ll only get yourself into trouble. You’re in the Army now, and in the Army there are formalities to be considered. Any report has to pass through our Officer and thence via Battery and Regiment to Brigade. You can’t go direct to the fountain head.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said. ‘But if there is anything in this idea of a plan it is vitally important.’

‘If there is anything in it, then no doubt Intelligence know all about it,’ he replied. ‘In any case, the responsibility is no longer yours.’

But I didn’t feel that way. As a journalist I had seen too much of the delays of red tape not to feel some misgivings as to what would happen to my information in its passage through the official channels. My main concern, as I lay awake in bed that morning, was to decide whether or not the German pilot had really known something and let it slip in the heat of the moment. But the more I thought about it, the more uncertain I was. And if I was uncertain, I knew that whoever was responsible for reporting the matter to the Air Ministry would be disinclined to make much of it. Everything depended on the result of the examination of the prisoner.

In this knowledge I fell asleep, dead tired. We were on again at four, a very tired detachment. The events of the night seemed like a dream. But at the north end of the ‘drome the burnt-out wreck of the ‘plane stood as a monument to our achievement. We were relieved at seven, but instead of going to the mess for breakfast most of us went straight back to bed. The next thing I remember is being wakened by the sound of engines revving in the dispersal point near our hut. The din was terrific and the vibration made my bed shake.

I heard somebody say, ‘Sounds as though there’s a flap coming.’ I did not open my eyes. But I had scarcely turned over when the Tannoy broke in on my sleep. ‘Attention, please! Attention, please! Tiger Squadron scramble! Tiger Squadron scramble! Scramble! Scramble! Off.’

‘All right, we’ll come quietly,’ I heard Chetwood say. ‘No peace for the wicked.’ His bed creaked as he got up.

I waited, unwilling to wake up, yet my nerves fully awake. The engines roared as the ‘planes left the dispersal point for the runway. I waited, dreading the inevitable patter of feet that would mean leaving the comfort of my bed. It came almost immediately — the sound of running feet, the bursting open of the door and the cry of Take post!’

My limbs reacted automatically. But my eyes were still tight shut as I reached blindly for my battle blouse. ‘What’s the plot?’ I heard someone ask. Twenty hostile southeast, flying north-west at twenty-five thousand feet,’ was the reply.

I opened my eyes as I felt under my bed for my canvas shoes. Sunlight was streaming into the darkened hut through cracks in the blackout curtains. Outside I found a clear blue sky and a haze over the ground. It was already beginning to get warm, for the air was very still. As I reached the pit the last flight was just taking off. The leading flight of three was already disappearing into the mist, flying southeast and climbing steeply.

‘Attention, please! Attention, please! Preliminary air-raid warning! Preliminary air-raid warning!’

‘A bit much, don’t you think,’ said Kan. ‘I mean, it’s so frightfully early in the morning for this sort of thing.’

‘Funny how he always comes at meal-times,’ said Helson. ‘He missed breakfast yesterday, but he was over for lunch and tea.’

‘All part of the war of nerves,’ said Langdon.

‘What’s that up there?’ Micky’s outstretched arm was pointing high up to the east. A ‘plane glinted in the sun for a second. Langdon raised his glasses.

But it was only our own Hurricane squadron circling. We saw no sign of the enemy and eventually Gun Ops. reported that the raid had been dispersed. The Tannoy gave the ‘All Clear,’ but it was some little time before we were allowed to stand down. When we were, it was past nine and our detachment was on duty.