Andrew Wareham - The Balloonatics - A Tale of the Great War

“Your first message stated ‘SS9 bf ktrol 0635’. We translated this to mean ‘SS9 on patrol at 0635 hours’. One hour later we received the interesting information, ‘SS9 wxtrf’. Fortunately, Mr Harker, you remembered the Morse Code for the letter ‘S’ and for numerals. On request for repetition, you sent the same. At 0921, you sent what I now presume was a submarine sighting report. It made no sense at all. We were unable to extract any information from your message. Consequently, no report was made to Dover and no ships were sent to the location. Well, Mr Harker, what have you to say?”

Harker chose to bluster.

“I am sure the messages were correct when they left me, sir. It is not my fault that your wireless operator showed unable to read Morse.”

“He read every other message from the four other SS ships on patrol, Mr Harker.”

“Then the wireless set in SS9 must be faulty, sir.”

“It is being checked now. Two ratings have spent the past few minutes in messaging each other using SS9’s set and the main installation. They have discovered no problem.”

Harker was unprepared to admit fault, suggested that the problem only showed when the ship was in the air.

“I do not believe that to be the case, Mr Harker. You will spend the next week in the classroom at the Dover Patrol base. By the end of the week, you will show competent in Morse or you will find yourself transferred to the Naval Brigade. Mr Bracegirdle will be pleased to inform you of all you may expect there, Mr Harker. I have read the report from your last commanding officer, suggesting that you are idle and inclined to be incompetent. If you fail the very thorough test you will be given at Dover by so much as one mark, you will be sent to the Brigade, Mr Harker.”

“One week is hardly sufficient, sir. Not a fair chance, sir.”

“Not fair? You had six months as a wartime midshipman, Mr Harker. In that time you were taught Morse and were expected to practice and become wholly familiar with the code. Now you are to be given a week doing nothing else than to bring your knowledge up to scratch.”

Harker still thought he could wriggle his way out, could find a route to an easy life.

“It might be better if I did not join the RNAS, sir. Not what I thought it was when I was persuaded to volunteer, sir. My father told me it was an easy number, sir. Said I could be promoted quickly and then given a proper posting to a shore base at Gib or Malta or Alexandria, sir. Not unimportant, my father, sir. Might be an idea to talk to him before doing anything premature, sir. I can give you his private telephone number at Harker Industries, sir.”

“Can you really, Mr Harker? What a generous offer!”

Harker was unused to irony. He took Captain Fitzjames’ words at face value. He smirked as the captain reached for his telephone.

“Give me the Admiralty. Vice-Admiral Forshaw.”

Three minutes of silence, Harker starting to look puzzled, and the connection was made.

“Andrew, are you well? How’s my sister? Good, glad to hear it. Got a bit of a cold myself, nothing to worry about. A little problem here at Shoreham, Andrew. A sublieutenant with an important father who thinks that the rules don’t apply to him. He would benefit from a year or two with the Brigade in Flanders. You still need officers, do you not?”

Captain Fitzjames listened for a few seconds, made a reply.

“The name is Harker. Good… He’ll be there. I should be in Town next week, for the birthday. I’ll see you then, Andrew. Goodbye.”

Peter said nothing, permitted himself a smile. That was how influence should be used, by the backdoor, not with crass announcements of one’s father’s power.

“Commander, will you be so good as to send for the Chief Petty Officer in charge of the gates? He is to bring an escort of four ratings with him.”

Harker opened his mouth, was waved silent.

“You have spoken your piece, boy! Stand to attention! Keep quiet!”

Five minutes and the crushers arrived, fully uniformed, blancoed and polished and carrying Lee-Enfields. The Chief Petty Officer came to a rigid salute.

“Thank you, Chief. You will observe Mr Harker here.”

The Chief Petty Officer did, peering at him, examining him from head to toe. He made no comment on what he discovered.

“You will escort Mr Harker in the back of a tender to Dover. Report at the harbour gates and mention Vice-Admiral Forshaw’s name and you will be given a ship for him. Take him aboard and escort him to Calais and then to the headquarters of the Naval Brigade. You will need to organise transport on the other side. Having delivered him, you will use the transport to return to Calais and thus to Dover and pick up the tender again. Mr Harker will not have access to a telephone or be permitted to send any communications of any sort.”

“Aye aye, sir. Party, to escort the officer. Move!”

The four ratings placed themselves around Harker, waited for the order, performed an about turn, shouldering him into compliance, and marched him out of the office bleating that the lower-deck must not touch him.

“And that deals with that hopeless little shit, Mr Naseby.”

“Most effectively, sir.”

“What he did not realise is that the little self-contained units have a great deal of freedom, Mr Naseby. We are kings of our little castles, you know. Remember that at Polegate, young man, and do not abuse it.”

Peter showed respectful – making a play of listening to well-meant advice. It had not occurred to him that he would be in a position of power.

“What of this man Harker, sir? I have heard of Harker Industries. It is a big and rich company, more so in wartime, I expect. It will have some clout.”

“So it will, Mr Naseby. But so has the Admiralty and we look after our own, when it is convenient. Young Mr Harker has been posted to a place of honour where he will be able to distinguish himself in battle. What more can any man ask for? What more could I do for him? Lucky boy!”

“So he is, sir. It is a form of luck I could do without, perhaps.”

“Me too, man!”

Fitzjames started to cough again and Finlay nodded Peter to leave the room.

He made his way to the wardroom and sat with Horrocks who he discovered lonely there.

“I have asked for you to be one of my pilots at Polegate, Horrocks. I need experienced and able men. Tubbs and Bracegirdle are coming with us as well.”

He waved the pair across, made the introductions.

“Horrocks is replacing Harker. Following his day on SS9 he has found himself unsuited for the air and has transferred to the Naval Brigade instead. Look, there he goes, through the gate!”

They stared at the open Crossley and Harker squeezed between the four large ratings, not quite under arrest and seemingly in a state of shock, judging by his open mouth and blank face.

Tubbs cracked a grin.

“Poor chap, sir! He spent much of yesterday evening explaining to us that he was only staying here for six months or so, long enough to make his promotion and then be posted out to the Med. He was intending to spend most of the coming winter in the warmth of Malta or Alex, not here freezing in the cockpit of a blimp.”

“Well, he will certainly not be doing so. He’s right at that. A pity he did not have time to ask you for advice, Bracegirdle.”

“Is that really where he is going, sir? To the Brigade? From all he said to me last night, I pity the poor Hun, such a warrior as he must be! What comes next for us, sir? We have been through the classroom on the ground today.”

“Good, I found that helpful. Tomorrow, we transfer SS9 across to Polegate and wait for four or five others to be sent to us. They will come on lorries, deflated, and will be gassed up by our unit. As they are readied, the current plan – which may change according to circumstance – is that you will go out as front cockpit hands for two or three patrols, to get the hang of it. You will then be trained as pilots – very quickly. I want you in charge of your own blimps by next Monday. You will take mids or ratings as your front-end men and be on regular duty by mid-week. No choice – we are in a hurry. The submarines are demanding our presence. We expect to have a few pilots on loan to us for the week. They must go back to their own units then. They are dirigible drivers, in fact, waiting on the manufacture of their own craft. They have all had experience of blimps.”