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  Night Mission

  By Don Patterson

  Illustrated by Sonny Schug/Studio West

  Edited by Mary Parenteau

  Production by Kline/Phoenix Advertising Graphics

  © 2001, 2010 Hindsight Limited

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be produced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts in reviews.

  Published in Minneapolis, MN by Rising Star Studios, LLC.

  Picture Credits

  Many thanks to the following organizations for giving permission to reprint illustrations and text used in the “In Hindsight” section of this book.

  Time Life Books, The Air War in Europe, Alexandria, VA (Courtesy of United States Air Force)

  Publisher's Cataloging-In-Publication Data

  (Prepared by The Donohue Group, Inc.)

  Patterson, Don, 1961-

  Night mission / by Don Patterson ; illustrated by Sonny Schug.

  p. : col. ill. ; cm. -- (Tales of the RAF ; bk. 5)

  Originally published in 2001 by Hindsight Ltd.

  Summary: Two RAF fighter pilots risk their lives battling enemy raiders in the darkness, but to land their planes during blackout conditions prove to be even more dangerous. While the emergency unfolds overhead, young Harry Winslow and his friends are distracted from their own mission at home and risk being grounded.

  Interest age level: 007-010.

  ISBN: 978-1-936770-16-8 (epub)

  1. Great Britain. Royal Air Force--Juvenile fiction. 2. Fighter pilots--Great Britain--Juvenile fiction. 3. World War, 1939-1945--Children--Great Britain--Juvenile fiction. 4. Spitfire (Fighter planes)--Juvenile fiction. 5. Great Britain. Royal Air Force--Fiction. 6. Fighter pilots--Great Britain--Fiction. 7. World War, 1939-1945--Children--Great Britain--Fiction. 8. Spitfire (Fighter planes)--Fiction. I. Schug, Sonny. II. Title. III. Series: Patterson, Don, 1961- Tales of the RAF ; bk. 5.

  PZ7.P3884 Ni 2010

  [Fic] 2009942884

  To those with

  the courage to stay

  loyal and true...

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  "NIGHT MISSION"

  1 URGENT ORDERS

  2 A LOYAL GROUP

  3 THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGEROW

  4 MISSION PREPARATIONS

  5 NIGHT SPOTTING

  6 NIGHT RAIDERS

  7 A BIT OF A PROBLEM

  8 THE REAL HERO

  9 SEARCHING FOR LIGHT

  10 BRILLIANT IN THE DARKNESS

  11 POWER FAILURE

  12 HARRY HAS THE ANSWER

  13 SAFELY ON THE GROUND

  14 LOYALTY IS EARNED

  IN HINDSIGHT

  CHAPTER ONE

  URGENT ORDERS

  Colonel Harrison sat at his desk, sifting through a stack of reports and messages. As the commander of Hampton Airfield, Harrison learned that paperwork was an unavoidable burden that came with his job. Applying the discipline taught by a long career in the Royal Air Force, his daily routine was to spend the first hour every morning reviewing the flood of memos and new orders that continually crossed his desk.

  Concentrating on the latest weather bulletin, Colonel Harrison barely noticed when his secretary, Susan Winslow, stepped into the office. In contrast to the blue uniform worn by members of the RAF, Susan's woolen sweater and brown skirt indicated she was a civilian. Like so many other local townspeople during the war, she helped out where she could in an effort to do her part.

  Susan Winslow lived with her mother and younger brother, Harry, on a farm that bordered the airfield. While her father was away in London serving the British Intelligence Service, she left her college studies to come home and help her family. In order to earn some extra money, Susan took a job as Colonel Harrison's secretary. The pay was fair, but more importantly, it allowed her to keep an eye on her twelve year old brother, Harry. Amazed by the men and their planes, Harry Winslow had become a fixture on base, spending as much time as possible with his adopted family of Royal Air Force pilots.

  "Colonel," Susan quickly interrupted, "this message just came in from RAF Fighter Command. It's marked urgent."

  Harrison looked up from the weather map and peered at Susan. Standing up, he reached across the desk and took the letter from her hand. Tearing at the envelope, the Colonel hastily pulled out the message and started to read its contents.

  Harrison's eyes darted back and forth while reading. Turning to the last page, he nervously stroked his chin.

  Curious, but more concerned, Susan stood quietly waiting for Colonel Harrison to finish. In the two years working as Harrison's secretary, she learned that urgent messages from RAF Headquarters rarely brought good news.

  When Colonel Harrison finished reading the order, he carefully tucked the letter into his coat pocket. Deep in thought, his brow furrowed while he seemed to stare at some unknown point in the distance. Susan grew anxious waiting for him to say something.

  "Susan," Harrison finally asked, "have you seen Dawson or Simms yet this morning? I must find them immediately!"

  "As you know," Susan replied, "Captain Dawson is grounded until he recovers from the concussion he suffered bailing out of his plane during the last mission. The flight surgeon has restricted him to the field hospital for a few more days. But, he usually spends his time in the infirmary as close to the airfield as the doctor will allow. On the other hand, Captain Simms is most likely out on the field waiting for the scramble alarm with the rest of the pilots."

  Fearing an emergency, Susan started to reach for the telephone. "I'll ring for someone to bring Captain Simms here straight away."

  "There's no need for that," Colonel Harrison assured her. "I'll go find them myself."

  The Colonel grabbed his hat and straightened his jacket. While pulling at his uniform, he noticed the worried look on Susan's face.

  "Susan," Harrison confided, "everything is all right. In fact, the lads are going to get some time off. Fighter Command has just informed me that our remaining Hurricane fighter planes are finally going to be replaced with Spitfires in the next few days. We'll only need to fly a couple night patrol missions until the new planes arrive. In the meantime, we've been ordered to stand down from active flight duty."

  Susan stiffly nodded her head at the news. However, once the Colonel stepped out of the office to search for Dawson and Simms, she took a deep breath and steadied herself. She was glad the pilots would get some rest, but the thought of the men flying dangerous night missions made her uneasy. With a heavy sigh, Susan nervously brushed at the sleeves of her sweater and went back to work at her desk.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A LOYAL GROUP

  Standing on the steps of the Operations Building, Colonel Harrison surveyed the grounds, looking for the squadron of pilots. Unable to find Captain Simms and the others among the hangers and airplanes scattered about the airfield, Harrison started for the base hospital where he knew Captain Dawson was recovering.

  Turning a corner around the Officer's Mess, Harrison took a shortcut to the Field Hospital by darting between a row of barracks. After dashing past the narrow wooden buildings, he slowed down, anticipating the short distance left to the infirmary. Rounding one last corner, Colonel Harrison was surprised by what he saw.

  In front of the hospital, the pilots of the 14th Squadron had gathered together in the yard. Some of the men sat in the grass while others lounged in makeshift canvas lawn chairs, doing their best to relax in the morning sun. Fully dressed in their flight suits, the men were ready to race to their planes if called.

  Bewildered, the Colonel stopped in his
tracks. Usually the pilots awaited the scramble alarm out on the airfield. Harrison couldn't understand why they were in front of the Field Hospital instead. Searching for some clue to the men's odd behavior, he noticed something that immediately answered his question. There, framed in an open infirmary window was the squadron's leader, Captain Dawson, watching the men milling about in the yard. Instantly, Harrison realized that as long as Dawson was grounded at the hospital, the rest of the squadron would wait there with him.

  The close knit RAF pilots were like a family. They fought the war side by side. And, together, shared both happy and sad moments. They were always there for each other, through and through. It made Harrison proud to see the extent of their loyalty.

  Stepping across the crowded yard, Colonel Harrison joined the men gathered around the hospital window. Through the open sash, Harrison called to Captain Dawson, "Ted, I've just received urgent orders from Fighter Command."

  A white bandage encircled Captain Dawson's head like a woolen muff. Pale and still a little dizzy from his concussion, Dawson pulled himself closer to the window to hear the important news. His face strained from the lingering pain. Outside, the rest of the pilots huddled around Colonel Harrison while he explained the situation.

  "Nine more Spitfires are being delivered to replace the remaining Hurricanes in our squadron. Until we're all flying Spits, Fighter Command has removed us from active operations. For the next three days, our squadron is responsible for just one rotation of night patrol. That means two pilots will fly one mission each night. Meanwhile, the rest of you get a holiday."

  While most of the group rustled with excitement at the news, Captain Simms and Lieutenants Gainey and Hyatt eyed each other. Three Spitfires had been previously delivered to the squadron, and they were the pilots currently assigned to the planes. Up until now, they had felt it an honor to be flying the new, more powerful and agile Spitfires while the rest of the squadron flew the older, slower Hurricanes. Although being Spitfire pilots provided them some celebrity among the others, this time Simms, Gainey and Hyatt would have preferred some vacation.

  Colonel Harrison noticed the disappointed looks on the faces of the three Spitfire pilots and offered some consolation. "Gentlemen, we'll rotate your flight duty using only two of you each night. That way each of you gets at least one full day off."

  Never ones to question their orders in the first place, Simms, Gainey and Hyatt appreciated how Harrison's plan made the best of the situation. They would fly their required night missions and still have some much needed time off.

  "As for you, Captain Dawson, three more days of rest will do you a world of good. Then you'll be in tip top shape to lead your entire squadron of new Spitfires."

  Captain Dawson smiled and nodded his head. Just days ago he survived bailing out of his crippled Hawker Hurricane while battling enemy fighters over the cold, choppy waters of the English Channel. Ever since being rescued and returned to Hampton, he hoped his replacement plane would be a new Spitfire.

  "Captain Simms and Lieutenant Gainey," Colonel Harrison announced, "you two will fly tonight's patrol. Mission briefing will be this evening at eighteen hundred hours."

  With that, the Colonel turned and headed back to his office. Looking over his shoulder, he called out wryly, "I'll make sure your planes receive a new coat of paint before then. I think you'll like the color I've picked."

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGEROW

  Twelve year old Harry Winslow sat on the steps of his house eating a sandwich for lunch. Warmed by the midday sunshine, Harry had just returned from an early morning trip to the neighboring airfield to see his injured friend, Captain Dawson. While happily chatting with Dawson at the hospital window, Harry overheard Lieutenant Gainey mention to the other pilots, that he lost his flashlight somewhere in the fields around the base the day before.

  Harry was fascinated by the heroic RAF pilots and their mighty fighter planes. He had visited the airfield practically every day since it was first constructed. Over time, Harry and the men on base became close friends. While his father was away serving the government in London, the pilots filled an emptiness in Harry's heart and supported him with help and comfort.

  Determined to recover Lieutenant Gainey's lost flashlight, Harry decided to start a search. With one quick telephone call, he was able to recruit his friends Stuart and Erin to help. They felt duty bound, it was for the benefit of a Royal Air Force pilot. In the spirit of good play, Harry and his friends planned to spend the afternoon on what they called a "treasure" hunt. Harry eagerly waited for Stuart and Erin to join him so they could begin. It would be an enjoyable expedition, most likely ending with another visit to the RAF airfield that lay on the other side of the Winslow's hedgerow fence.

  Ready to search for "treasure" in the fields of Hampton County, Harry was glad to see Stuart and Erin pop over one of the rolling hills on the path leading to his house. Soon they would be on their way to hours of high adventure looking for the flashlight, and any other special bits of junk that may have been tossed into the grass over the past several years.

  "Mom," Harry called from the porch steps, "Stuart and Erin are here. I'm going with them to hunt treasure for a while."

  The Winslow house had been in the family for generations. Proud of their farm with its two story brick home and tidy gardens surounding it, Mrs. Winslow worked hard to keep it up while her husband was away. She depended on her two children to help with the daily chores and occasional repairs.

  Inside the cozy house, Harry's mother smiled at the thought of the treasures her son might find. Then she remembered the appointment she had made with the men who shear sheep and buy the wool. They were scheduled to be at the farm early the next morning. In order to be ready, much needed to be done.

  "Don't forget, the wool cutters are coming to shear our sheep tomorrow," Mrs. Winslow reminded Harry. "You need to tidy up the wool shed and gather all our sheep into the holding pen before nightfall. It's your job to make sure we're ready to start shearing first thing in the morning. If we're not prepared, they'll leave, and it will be months before I can get them back."

  "Mom," Harry pleaded, "it will only take me a couple hours to clean out the shed and gather the sheep. Stuart and Erin are here already, so can't it wait until this evening? We're trying to find something Lieutenant Gainey lost."

  "Harry, I love your pilots, too," Mrs. Winslow explained. "But we have our own work to do around here. You must consider it your mission to get things prepared for tomorrow."

  "But I know I can help Lieutenant Gainey and still get the sheep ready," Harry begged. "Please, Mom, can I go?"

  Harry anxiously waited for his mother's response.

  "All right, dear. You're old enough to manage your own time. Just make sure everything is ready for tomorrow, or you'll be in so much trouble, even a squadron of fighter pilots won't be able to save you."

  Jumping down the front steps two at a time, Harry raced to join Stuart and Erin. Shouting over his shoulder, he called to his mother, "Thanks, Mom! We're off to find treasure! I'll be back later and I won't let you down!"

  "Have a good time, love," Mrs. Winslow replied, unaware that Harry and his friends were already halfway down the path to the meadows by the airfield.

  Hours passed and the sun dropped in the sky while Harry, Stuart and Erin scoured the fields in search of their treasure. The entire afternoon had come and gone, and for all their work, they found little more than a couple of old bottles and some newspaper. Undaunted, they continued to push their way through the tall grass, until they neared the hedgerow fence that separated the Winslow farm from Hampton Airfield.

  Poking about the bushes, Harry stumbled upon the best find of the day. Caught in the bottom most branches of a small twisted shrub was a compact flashlight. Even though it was caked with mud, Harry knew it was the kind RAF pilots carried with them in the pockets of their flight suits.

  "Look what I found!" Harry shouted to his fri
ends.

  Stuart and Erin ran to join Harry, excited to see his find. The three children passed the flashlight back and forth examining it closely.

  "It's an RAF regulation torch, all right," Stuart announced.

  "It must be Lieutenant Gainey's," Erin added enthusiastically. "Try it and see if it still works."

  Harry pushed at the switch and looked at the bulb. The flashlight sparked to life, glowing in the dim evening light. When Harry noticed the yellow beam shining through the mist on his friends, he suddenly realized it was getting late.

  Slowly sinking on the horizon, the sun caused the sky to grow red and purple. Engrossed in their treasure hunt, the children had lost all track of time. Soon it would be dark, and Harry knew he still needed to do work at home.

  "It's getting late," Harry blurted. "I've got to go home and gather the sheep for tomorrow."

  "Hey," Stuart shouted, interrupting Harry. "Look over there. They've painted the Spitfires black!"

  Harry and Erin turned to look toward the airfield. Stuart was right. Out on the hardstand, aircrews were preparing two Spitfires, both freshly painted in night camouflage.

  "They must be flying a night mission," Erin shouted, excited at the thought. "Let's watch!"

  Caught up in their discovery of the black Spitfires, the children raced to their favorite spot on the small hill overlooking the hardstand. Sitting in the tall grass, the three friends watched while the crews worked on the fighter planes in the fading light. Fascinated by the mechanics working around the curiously painted planes, Harry completely forgot his waiting chores and the promises made to his mother.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MISSION PREPARATIONS

  Harry, Stuart and Erin watched while the flight mechanics pumped fuel and fitted rounds of ammunition into the wing mounted guns of the Spitfires. The sleek fighter planes parked on the hardstand cast long narrow shadows in the late evening light. Harry was most interested in the new coat of matte black paint, a special camouflage used only for night missions.