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

“Let’s hope the elephant doesn’t trample him, Farnsworth. The North Sea is big and cold and has German seaplanes over in the east.”

That was true, Farnsworth conceded.

“I took a couple of patrols out while you were absent, sir. Just to see what it felt like. It will be useful to have a spare body over winter – never know if the ‘flu might hit us. Bound to be colds and that…”

“Officially, it’s still no. If operational needs arise then it may be all hands to the pumps. Is your Morse up to scratch?”

“It will be, sir. Slow at the moment.”

“Improve it. You are happy with a Lewis?”

“I know what to do but I haven’t fired one much, sir.”

“Have a word with Handsworth. Chances are you will never need to. If you do, you must be handy.”

It would be useful to have a spare body available. Peter thought a few minutes, returned to the telephone.

“Captain Troughton please.”

A short delay and the connection was made.

“Sir, you said you had a plethora of mids going spare. Just occurred to me that we might make use of a spare hand or two to rotate among the crews. If we get an epidemic, ‘flu or something, very useful. These patrols out to Biscay may be very long as well. It might make sense to be able to rest the men occasionally.”

Troughton almost wept with relief; he could find a use for the sprogs infesting his offices.

“Two more will reach you this afternoon. I have sent the first pair off already. Makes good sense and I can get rid of a dozen of the little buggers around the other bases with a clear conscience. Leave the offices far less cluttered. What are you planning for the new patrols?”

“Tubbs has a scheme in hand for me – all very mathematical, no doubt, and making best use to cover as much area as possible and thoroughly. What will there be in the way of surface ships, sir?”

“Insufficient, I do not doubt. I hope to have a light cruiser and half a dozen destroyers made available. If it can be arranged, you will be given wireless contact with the cruiser. Not Calliope, by the way.”

“Wiser that way, sir. I doubt very much that I am a favourite of old Savage, particularly now that I match him for rank.”

Troughton laughed.

“He won’t like to hear that he put you in the way of two rapid promotions by throwing you off his ship. I wonder… Might be possible to ensure that word reaches his ears. I must know someone up at Scapa who can accidentally bump into him and mention your rise to glory. Do him no end of good!”

Another naval feud – the service was full of them, possibly because of the boredom of sitting in idleness at anchor for months on end. The Grand Fleet barely shifted from Scapa, occasional squadrons going out to gunnery practice and nothing else to give them an interest. Peter was delighted now that he had avoided Scapa.

“Any word on the Big Smash, sir?”

“The meeting of the two fleets and the second Trafalgar that must result? Increasingly unlikely. Neither high command wants it – one miscalculation on the day and the war could be over. If the Germans lose massively, it will be possible to send a fleet into the Baltic to end the Swedish iron ore trade and bombard in support of the Russians; we might possibly land an army on the Friesian shores. If we lose, then the blockade is finished and German surface warships will enter the Atlantic, ending all trade with the States. Too big a risk for either side to take. Add to that, Jellicoe is not a man to take a chance and Beatty is incapable of commanding a battle fleet, as he showed at Dogger Bank. No big battle unless the Germans choose to come out into the North Sea. If the blockade starts to bite – as it will increasingly – they may be forced to make a sortie. Two chances out of three favour us.”

Peter could not entirely follow that logic.

“If we win – we are on top. If we fight a draw and force them back into harbour, the blockade remains unbroken, which is a win for us. Only if we are defeated in battle, losing a substantial number of battleships so that we cannot hold the blockade, will Germany win.”

“So stalemate, as it stands at the moment, is victory for us.”

“Just that, Naseby. We win as long as we don’t lose.”

“That was the reality from 1805 to 1815, was it not, sir? The blockade was not broken and there was no major battle for the ten years.”

“While we can blockade Europe, we cannot be defeated.”

“Nice thought, sir. Can we win the war?”

“Different matter, Naseby. Too complex for a mere captain.”

“And for me, sir. I see a Crossley coming through the gate with brand spanking new uniforms in the back. I suspect I am to be descended upon by midshipmen.”

Two bright, shiny, keen objects were ushered into the office. Neither looked more than ten years old to Peter’s jaundiced eye.

“Midshipman Kirby, sir.”

“Patterson, sir.”

“I presume you are senior, Kirby?”

“Yes, sir. By one day, sir.”

“Sometimes useful to know that sort of thing. Not very important here. You will be flying as second hands to Lieutenants Davies and Horrocks.”

Kirby leaned forward in confidential fashion.

“I say, sir, I did hear that Horrocks was a matelot, a rating turned into a sort of officer. Not the type for my family! If you don’t mind, sir, I would prefer not to fly with him.”

“Why, that can certainly be arranged, Kirby! Coxswain!”

Peter’s bellow brought Biggs at the run.

“Be so good, Mr Biggs, as to take this little shit and deposit him outside the gate with his baggage. If a tender happens to be passing by it can dump him at the railway station. Immediately, if you would be so good, Mr Biggs!”

Biggs summoned his best disciplinary roar and marched the boy out, delaying only to call a rating to discover his bags and throw them after him.

Peter reached for the telephone.

“Captain Troughton? Awful line, sir. can barely hear your voice. The horrible little object Kirby objected to the thought of flying with an officer from the lower deck. I have had him kicked out of the gate. He may well be able to make his way to the station. I do not want him, sir. Do with him as you will.”

“A bloody midshipman thinking he can choose his officers for himself? He can lose his damned warrant and the Army can have him as far as I am concerned. The tender with the extra pair of boys should reach you soon. Put him on it rather than leave him to wander around the countryside. He might not have a fare in his pocket.”

Peter sent Payne to inform the gatehouse that Kirby should wait for a tender to pick him up.

“He can stand out in the rain, Payne. He will remain outside the gate.”

Payne grinned and ran.

“Never heard the like in my life, Patterson! A midshipman daring to object to the nature of a lieutenant? Outrageous!”

Patterson fought back a smile.

“I believe Mr Kirby is very well bred, sir. The second son of a viscount and only going to war because it is the proper thing to do. He told me that his elder brother has joined a Guards battalion and is in Flanders just now. He thought there was a good chance he would become heir as a result. That was why he had joined the Navy, sir, so that he could serve in some safety. He did not expect to be sent to the RNAS, thought he would be placed aboard a battleship, being who he was.”

“Poor lad! Such a comedown for him to be posted into the balloons. Still, he need have no further fear of lowering himself so far – he will be found surplus to our requirements, an administrative decision, and will be given the old heave-ho. I suspect he will not be permitted to return to civilian life having once volunteered. I do not know where he may end up. There is a strong possibility he may be broken down to the lower deck and sent as a rating aboard a ship out of Dover, that being conveniently close. Ordinary seaman on an armed trawler is not unlikely.”