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

“Ten years before I would have even hoped, in peacetime. As it stands, Mama, I am one of the high-flyers now, in both senses!”

They laughed, easing now that the first awkwardness was passed.

“What of your young lady, my son, now that your sister has broached the topic?”

“Miss Josephine Hawes-Parker. Her father is in the Diplomatic Corps, currently in Washington. Her mother is long dead and she remains with her grandparents in Shoreham. Early days yet to say whether it is anything more than acquaintance… I think you would like her, Mama.”

“Hawes-Parker – I know the name if not the people. Her grandmother was a Nisbet, cousin to my sister Elisabeth’s husband’s family. She is one of us.”

That went a long way to ensuring Josephine’s acceptance, if that occasion arose.

“Are you to remain with the balloons, Peter?”

“I hope so, Mama. I have no great choice in the matter, of course. If Their Lordships decide otherwise, I shall go where I am sent. It is unlikely that they will shift me out of the RNAS. Nothing is impossible in the Navy.”

An afternoon in idleness, mostly talking with his sister and discovering what her actual plans were.

“You were just a little evasive in front of Mama, Minnie!”

“Least said the better, Peter. I am to join the Field Auxiliary Nursing Yeomanry as a driver three weeks from Monday. All arranged – I took a day out with Jenny, as far as our parents know. I am only eighteen, still a minor, needing their permission to join. We forged the letter between us. They are short of drivers and are having to train most of their own, rather slowly. I am proficient behind the wheel now and shall be in France by the Tuesday. I am to drive an ambulance to Dover and board ship there. All has been confirmed, the letters sent to Jenny at her hospital. I shall be a trooper, not an officer, but drivers will be promoted corporal very quickly.”

Peter whistled, knowing that he should inform his father of his youngest daughter’s plans. He had no intention of doing so – Minnie was old enough to make her own mind up. Thinking on it, Minnie was older than Josephine by some months. His father would have no objection to her marrying at her age.

“Write to me at HMS Polegate, Minnie. Let me know where you are and what you are doing. Brother Geoffrey will be outraged, no doubt, and our parents will be upset. You are doing what you think is right – good luck to you. There was some mention of a young man in the Flying Corps?”

“Young Edwards? More my father’s hopes than my wishes, Peter. I have not heard from him since he went to France, know nothing of him these days.”

“From all we read, the RFC is in trouble in the air in France. Anything might have happened to him.”

That led to discussion of the risks of flying in the balloons. He had to admit there was danger in the job, did not think it was worse than going to sea in wartime.

“What of Geoffrey, by the way? Is he to remain in the bank? No chance that he will be so foolish as to go to war?”

Minnie was inclined to be disparaging of her elder brother.

“Not the least prospect of him straying out of the City! He will not take any risk that can be avoided – a very proper banking gentleman is our brother.”

“We cannot make war without money, Minnie. A balloon costs the better part of seven thousand pounds, I am told, and the envelope, the elasticated rubber skin that holds the gas, must be replaced at intervals of six to twelve months. Add in the cost of hydrogen gas itself and of the men needed to walk the balloon in and out of the hangars and of the mechanics and we demand a mort of money from the government. I have not included the cost of the bombs we so casually fling into the Channel at the least hint of a shadow beneath the waves – we do not come cheap.”

“No war without the financiers, brother? That might be an argument to shoot the bankers!”

He was shocked that she might even joke about such a thing. The Royal Navy did not include Reds in its ranks.

His father and brother arrived home off the five minutes past five train from London Bridge station, as always, their routine almost never to be broken.

“Peter, I had hoped you might be here tonight! We are to go to dinner with the Lancings, you know, and they are expecting you. Your people said you would be here. I am afraid that you will to an extent be the guest of honour – can’t be avoided in the circumstances. Dress, of course, ribbon rather than miniature medal. A good opportunity for you to meet local Society – it will be rather a large function. With any luck the eldest daughter won’t be there!”

Peter had met Lord Lancing in passing over the years, knew he had a vast family, one son and eight or nine daughters. The oldest girl came to mind – she had done something the year previously, just before war broke out – suffragettes or somesuch, he vaguely recalled. Threw a brick at Lloyd George, perhaps? Not a bad idea if she had – the man was a thorough-going bad lot, a womaniser and a bribe taker if all that was said was true. He had some points in his favour, certainly, had passed some valuable legislation helping ordinary people – he knew that the lower deck had a great respect for him – but the man was no gentleman! His father was not one to have time for suffragettes, brother Geoffrey even less so.

“Surprised he still acknowledges her, sir. Disgraceful sort, a traitor to our class, if you ask me.”

His brother became stuffier each time he met him; he had his good points however.

“Still busy, Geoffrey?”

“More than ever, Peter. Not making such an impact on the world as you though, Peter! I was so proud to see your name and face in the newspapers yesterday. Good to see that medal on your chest, and the promotion – you will be making the headlines while I remain a mere banker tucked away in a back office out of sight. I am so pleased for you – and respectful of your deeds, old chap! I know you will not want to spout off about it, so I won’t be asking you for all the details. You have brought glory to us all, you know. Lunchtime yesterday and today there were chaps asking was you one of us and I was delighted to say you was, outshining us all!”

True pleasure in his younger brother and not the slightest trace of jealousy that he was made lesser in the family. It was possible to forgive a great deal of stuffiness.

“Luck, Geoffrey. We came out of the clouds unseen at the right time and were able to put an end to that submarine’s killing of our merchant seamen. It’s a poor way of making war, sinking civilians from ambush, Geoffrey! I see it more like rat killing than fighting an honourable enemy, you know.”

“So it is, Peter! You are so right.”

His father was more restrained in his congratulations, no less sincere.

“Admiral before you are forty at this rate, Peter. What’s this of a young lady in Shoreham, my son?”

“Little more than an acquaintance yet, sir. Josephine Hawes-Parker – my mother says you know the family vaguely – still young and a friend, which is not to say she may not become more, sir.”

“Early days, in fact, Peter. Good family and faintly connected. Her father is in Washington, I believe – in fact, I am sure. Met up with the name dealing with American business recently. No objections from me if you look for a marriage there. Not that there would be if you choose to marry anywhere – you are old enough and ugly enough to look after yourself, young man!”

They laughed together, Peter’s mother inclined to be indignant – her son was not ugly.

“Oh, and well done for that bit of colour on your chest, my son. First in the family, us not being in the military line, generally speaking. Well-earned and does your future no harm. Good for the bank, too – not that that should be important to you. Any number of bigwigs catching my eye and offering a word of congratulation this couple of days. Very useful. You must do it again, my son!”