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

“Pretty much meaningless, that last, sir?”

“No. It allows for the use of poison gas, otherwise forbidden under the Hague Convention, which is part of British law, except where the government chooses it should not be. The same for the bombardment of undefended towns, which is forbidden but is now made lawful. A response to the German High Seas Fleet bombarding east coast ports, of course.”

“Yes… What was the point of those bombardments, by the way, sir?”

“Morale. They showed that the Navy could not guard British shores. Perfectly true, of course. If we are to hide our ships away at Scapa Flow then they cannot act to protect the country. Not that they could do very much about that sort of hit and run raid even if they were still stationed at Chatham and Portsmouth. Their Lordships think there might have been a line of submarines stationed out to sea, that the retreating battlecruisers were to have drawn any pursuit across them. Minefields as well. They might be right for once.”

It was not a gentleman’s war, it seemed.

“Is the Army proposing to station a flotilla of blimps of its own in Flanders, sir?”

“Doubt it. French does not approve of them. He says that reconnaissance should be done by cavalry. If it can’t be, then the aeroplanes have done very well so far. Haig, who is busy stabbing French in the back and will replace him soon, understands that the blimps are being used by Intelligence, which he disapproves of. Therefore, he will not countenance an Army Corps of Balloons, other than for static artillery observation purposes.”

“Why does he disapprove of Intelligence?”

“He’s a cavalryman. The very word is anathema to them.”

“I see.”

Peter did not understand at all. His service had not brought him into contact with the cavalry and he was unaware of their little foibles.

“This business with the money is being run by Intelligence, is it, sir?”

“Of course. They are looking at the possibility of using couriers to send hundreds of millions of marks into Germany, they told me. If they print vast sums of money, it will become valueless and destroy the German economy. If all of the factories are forced to close, the war will soon end.”

“Sounds good to me, sir.”

“And to me. I gather that Asquith is dead against it – says that devaluing money hits at the foundations of civilisation.”

“But poison gas don’t?”

“Hush, Naseby! You are almost guilty of maliciously thinking for yourself, a heinous crime for any naval officer. To be serious, word will come through within seven days and you will fly out immediately on receipt of the location of the base.”

“Not in a gale, I trust, sir.”

“They know that we cannot tolerate high winds. I have told them so. With luck, they will have listened to me.”

Peter farewelled Troughton and wandered unenthusiastically in search of his dinner. It was fish, hot and fresh, that day’s catch and cooked for him rather than waiting on a hot plate all evening. He sent a message of thanks to the wardroom steward, who had had nothing to do with the meal, the initiative having come wholly from the cooks.

“Griffiths! Pack a small bag, enough for three days away. We will be flying across to France somewhen in the next few days. I’ll give you the exact place when I know it. Bring your rifle with you. Where’s Bracegirdle?”

The sub was in the bar area, a pint by his side, came across instantly.

“You are lieutenant, substantive in the rank, from tomorrow morning, Bracegirdle. I shall be away on a special flight next week and possibly on occasions thereafter. You will be OIC Flying in my absence. Pickles!”

A copy of the Times was folded away and Pickles walked across.

“I shall be absent from the field on some sort of funny business next week, and after, perhaps. Bracegirdle here is promoted and will take over Flying. You are senior on the field otherwise, are you not?”

“Yes, Commander. I am to hold the fort, I presume?”

“Yes. Should only be for a few days at a time. Captain Troughton has told me almost nothing, naturally. Run the place by guess and by God – everything as normal.”

They laughed and had a second beer, the wardroom being a sober place when they were to start work at five in the morning, virtually with the sun.

Tubbs’ Mention in Despatches coincided with a spring storm, to the pleasure of all. Peter made the announcement before dinner, the wind beating at the windows of the Cottage and forcing him to raise his voice.

“Plymouth says the weather is getting worse down there.”

They cheered.

“No flying tomorrow. I have spoken to the Regency Hotel in Brighton and they will be putting on a dinner for us, six thirty for seven o’clock tomorrow. Best bib and tucker. Transport is arranged and there will be rooms for us all at the hotel.”

He passed the word quietly as they ate that all costs were to be covered by the wardroom fund – no need to worry about empty wallets.

“Does it include me, Commander?”

Farnsworth was not sure how he fitted into the wardroom, feeling that he was an outsider among the sailors and fliers.

“All officers, Mr Farnsworth. Bring along a thirst – nothing else required!”

Peter had arranged the celebration from his own funds, had sent a cheque across to the hotel that morning. There would be no mention of the source of that payment. A few of the more thoughtful might wonder just how the wardroom could afford such a beano; most would not argue.

“Promises to be a good evening.”

“I much hope so, Mr Farnsworth. The boys need to relax – they have been flying far too many hours for their own good.”

“I wish I could fly, Commander.”

“Goes against the regulations, Farnsworth. However, we have no spare second hand – if one of the boys gets a heavy cold, we have no way of replacing him, have to ground the balloon. Such being the case, needing to respond to emergency, it might be possible. How is your Morse?”

“Learned it as a Boy Scout, for a wireless badge.”

“Well done. Go across to the Magazine when you can, get Handsworth or Sargent to show you how to use a Lewis and the official carbine. I’ll ask them to issue a pistol. We can wangle flying clothing – bound to have some extras in stock somewhere. Be ready against need. Won’t be able to do much by way of a training flight – you’ll have to pick it up in the air. Should be possible to work the oracle, Farnsworth. Useful to have a spare hand and you are the only available officer – good of you to volunteer, in fact.”

“They told me the Navy was very much by the book, when I was in basic training, Commander.”

“It is. We, however, are the Balloonatics – ordinary rules apply to us only sometimes.”

Peter feared the Admiralty might not agree with him – it was as well they were not listening.

The celebratory dinner was a success. Tubbs was formally toasted and went on to drink far too much and was tucked away in a warm bed, waking up to find he had female company and responding in approved fashion, rather to his own surprise. He had always been nervous in the company of women, had wondered whether he would fail there as he had so often in the rest of his life. All went well and more than once, to the apparent pleasure of the lady who had so surprisingly appeared in his bed.

He took a belated breakfast feeling very much pleased with himself, ignoring his hangover and wondering whether the others in the wardroom would know what he had been up to. Several of them were eating with him, most of them with grins on their faces. He thought they might all have enjoyed the celebration. He was inclined to wonder how it had all come about; for once in his life, he decided to ask no questions, to accept that he had, amazingly, been a success and had enjoyed himself.