Fighter Escort

  Fighter Escort

  By Don Patterson

  Illustrated by Sonny Schug/Studio West

  Edited by Mary Parenteau

  Production by Kline/Phoenix Advertising Graphics

  © 1999, 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-

  Fighter escort / by Don Patterson ; illustrated by Sonny Schug.

  p. : col. ill. ; cm. -- (Tales of the RAF ; bk. 2)

  Originally published in 1999 by Hindsight Ltd.

  Summary: Twelve-year-old Harry Winslow befriends a colorful American pilot, Captain Sam Ross, a member of an American bomber formation that is being escorted on raids by Captain Dawson and the rest of the RAF's 14th Squadron.

  Interest age level: 007-010.

  ISBN: 978-1-936770-13-7 (epub)

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

  PZ7.P3884 Fi 2010

  [Fic] 2009942881

  To Ron, Mary and Sonny.

  The pilot gets the credit,

  but really it's the crew

  who's responsible for success.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  "FIGHTER ESCORT"

  1 A NEW DAY

  2 MISSION SPECIFICS

  3 THE NEW KITE

  4 THE TEXAS BUCKAROO

  5 FIGHTERS CLOSING

  6 THE TARGET

  7 THE SHIFTING WIND

  8 THREE ALONE

  9 A SHAKY RIDE HOME

  10 FINAL APPROACH

  11 BARELY ABLE TO LAND

  12 MISSION COMPLETE

  13 BEING RESPONSIBLE

  14 FAREWELL TO THE TEXAS BUCKAROO

  IN HINDSIGHT

  CHAPTER ONE

  A NEW DAY

  Shafts of sunlight filtered through the early morning fog hanging over the fields of Hampton County, signaling the start of a new day. Roosters crowed in the distance, awakening the surrounding countryside. However, the ground crews at Hampton Airfield had already started their day several hours earlier preparing the 14th Squadron's Hawker Hurricanes for flight.

  Striding through the thinning gray mist, Squadron Leader, Captain Ted Dawson, stopped to watch the busy mechanics on the hardstand. Briefly scanning the activity, Dawson faithfully knew the ground crews would have his squadron of twelve fighter planes ready for the next mission. Satisfied with their work, he continued on his way to the Operations Building for the seven o'clock mission briefing.

  As usual, Captain Dawson was early, and the first to enter the briefing room. The briefing room was the largest office in the building. It was furnished with twelve leather chairs, arranged in rows of three. They faced an old oak desk. Here, Dawson and his pilots would soon be told about their mission.

  Taking his familiar seat, Dawson stretched his legs and glanced out one of the small windows overlooking the airfield. He restlessly waited for the other pilots to assemble. Peering through the dirty glass, he focused on the ground crews preparing the Hurricanes lined up along the hardstand. Dawson noticed the men refueling the planes were taking extra precautions to double check the fuel tanks. Already a seasoned veteran at only twenty-seven years old, he knew that when so much effort was applied to refueling, the upcoming mission would be a long one.

  Dawson's attention quickly shifted away from the airfield when Captain Simms entered the room.

  "Ted," Simms started abruptly, "you should've been at breakfast this morning. There was quite a scene!"

  Captain Dawson thought to himself for a moment, and with a wry smile asked, "What did Gainey do to Hyatt now?"

  Amazed at Dawson's perceptive response, Simms shook his head. "How did you know it was about them?"

  "It's always those two, Andy," Dawson replied. "So tell me, just what did our most mischievous pilot do now?"

  Simms, who was second in command of the squadron, sat down in the worn chair next to Dawson and proceeded to tell him the story.

  "Apparently, Lieutenant Gainey submitted a rather colorful mission report. As I understand it, he took credit for fifteen enemy fighters destroyed in only one mission. Then he recommended himself for an immediate promotion to Air Vice Marshall!"

  Dawson chuckled at the thought of the outrageous report. "I see," he mumbled. "All right, Andy, then what happened?"

  Simms blurted out, "He signed the blasted thing with Hyatt's name!" Leaning over in his chair he continued, "Colonel Harrison got a hold of the report and didn't find it funny at all. While we were eating breakfast, the Colonel marched in and exploded at Hyatt for wasting his time with such an 'idiotic' story. Then he canceled Hyatt's weekend leave as punishment. Once the Colonel left, Hyatt jumped across the table and went right after Gainey's throat."

  Now Dawson understood the harm in Gainey's practical joke on Hyatt. Shaking his head, he said "Those two fight like..."

  "Cats and dogs," Simms finished.

  "No," Dawson corrected, "worse yet, they fight like brothers. They continually brawl with each other. But, when one of them gets in trouble, the other will do anything to help him out."

  After a short silence Dawson remarked, "I suppose I need to straighten things out with the Colonel so Hyatt can get his leave back."

  "Not this time, Ted." Simms explained in a fatherly tone. "It's Gainey's responsibility. I told him to fix things with Colonel Harrison by the start of our mission briefing, or I would fix him!"

  Dawson agreed with Simms, and the two men continued to chat while the rest of the pilots began to gather in the room.

  Eventually, Captain Dawson's concentration returned to the activity outside the window. Glancing across the field, something caught his attention on the far side of the hardstand. A faint smile stretched across his lips when he recognized the head of thick brown hair, and slight frame of Harry Winslow. Harry was watching the mechanics while sitting in his usual spot on the small hill just behind the hedgerow that ran along the airstrip.

  Hampton Airfield bordered the Winslow farm. For years, the open land had been used to graze sheep. When the German army swept across Europe in late 1939, Britain prepared to defend itself and constructed a network of Royal Air Force airfields throughout England. Soon to become one of the new RAF airfields, engineers quickly built hangers and leveled the empty field next to the Winslow farm in order to make an airstrip.

  About the same time, Harry's father, at the request of the Prime Minister, joined the Intelligence Service and left to work in London. Since then, the airfield had become a fixture in the landscape. And in the absence of his father, the squadron of pilots had become increasingly important to twelve year old Harry Winslow.

  A frequent visitor to the small air base, Harry and the men of the squadron have become quite close. Possibly even too close, considering t
he dangerous occupation of the fighter pilots. Perhaps for just that reason, Harry spends as much time as he can with his adopted RAF family.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MISSION SPECIFICS

  At exactly o'seven hundred hours, the base commander, Colonel Harrison, entered the briefing room. All twelve pilots of the 14th Squadron rose to attention and watched him stride to the oak desk in front of them.

  Harrison quickly turned around to face the restless group. With a salute, he matter-of-factly greeted the men.

  "At ease, gentlemen, and good morning."

  The pilots returned to their seats while Colonel Harrison arranged some papers on the desk top in preparation for the briefing. Once again, Captain Dawson's thoughts drifted back to the airfield, and the crews refueling the fighter planes. Thinking of missions that would stretch the range of their Hurricanes, a list quickly ran through his head...coastal patrol, continued alert status, or...

  Dawson's daydreaming abruptly ended when he heard Colonel Harrison announce, "Fighter escort for a bombing mission is today's draw."

  Harrison pointed to a large map hanging on the wall and began to discuss the details of their mission. "A formation of American bombers is flying across the Channel to the French coast around Calais." Tapping at the map with a pointer, he explained, "You will meet them at the rally point, here, just past Dover."

  Then Harrison turned away from the faded map and stepped back to the desk. Leaning over the polished top, he continued the briefing.

  "Gentlemen, you will be escorting a group of forty-eight B-24s to their target and back. Their mission is to knock out the supply lines that feed German coastal airfields and fortifications. Now watch out for those Yanks, some of them may lose their bearings and get lost flying around up there. Show them just how valuable a Royal Air Force escort can be."

  "Remember, men," Harrison warned, "we are not flying today to simply run up the tally of downed enemy fighters. We're responsible for protecting those bombers. Your mission is to bring those lads home safely."

  Colonel Harrison stopped and glared at Lieutenant Gainey, "That includes you, Gainey, or should I say, 'Air Vice Marshall'? If we lose one bomber while you're chasing...how many was that? Oh yes, fifteen Me 109s, you'll be packing parachutes until the war is over!"

  Boisterous laughter from the other pilots echoed off the walls. Embarrassed, Gainey flushed beet red and shrank down in his chair. His bright crimson face stood out in stark contrast to his fair skin and blonde hair. Undoubtedly, Gainey had fixed the problem between Hyatt and the Colonel, but it was clear he would suffer teasing from the rest of the squadron for days to come.

  Harrison paused for a moment. Returning to a serious tone, he asked the pilots, "Are there any questions?"

  Dawson and his men remained quiet. Their mission was clear.

  "Then, that is all, gentlemen." Looking at his watch, Harrison informed the anxious group of aviators, "To make the intercept point, you'll need to be airborne in less than thirty minutes. Take to your planes."

  The Colonel grabbed his notes, signaling the end of the briefing. The men in the room rose to attention. In response, Colonel Harrison saluted the fighter pilots and watched them leave.

  Noticing Captain Dawson nearing the door, Harrison called out, "Ted, mind your fuel gauge today."

  Dawson stopped and replied, "Yes sir, I'll fill a juice can with petrol and bring it with me, just in case."

  The two men smiled knowingly at each other, and then Dawson left for the airfield. Colonel Harrison could hear the deafening roar of fighter plane engines warming up outside while he stood alone in the room.

  Walking together, the close knit group of RAF pilots made their way to the awaiting planes. After passing on some last minute instructions to his men, Captain Dawson climbed into the cockpit of his fighter. Captain Simms followed and quickly jumped into his own Hawker Hurricane. While tightening the straps to his seat, Dawson's eyes swept past the line of Hurricanes on the hardstand and focused on the small grassy hill where he had noticed Harry earlier.

  Still there, Harry was now standing at attention, his right hand held stiffly above his eyebrows. Dawson returned a crisp salute to his young friend, and then flashed a thumbs up sign. Happy to have simply been noticed, a broad smile washed over Harry's face.

  Amid the rumbling engines, the ground crews shouted instructions and gave the pilots hand signals to prepare them for take off. Dawson then motioned to Simms that it was time to go.

  The two veteran pilots raced their fighters across the rugged field and lifted skyward. One by one, the rest of the 14th Squadron's Hawker Hurricanes followed, bouncing along the grassy runway and climbing into the air. After the very last plane scrambled to join the squadron, Hampton Field grew quiet once again.

  Harry watched the assembling RAF formation bank toward the southeast. As they turned, a quick flash of morning sunlight reflected off the glass canopies. When the planes leveled out, he lost sight of them against the bright blue sky.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE NEW KITE

  Once the thunder of the Hurricanes' engines faded into the distance, Harry heard someone calling to him.

  "Harry!" a small voice rang out over the field. "Grab your kite and let's go!"

  Harry looked up the dirt path leading back to his house. There was Stuart with his younger sister Erin. Excitedly waving their arms, they continued shouting for his attention.

  Harry had known Stuart since before he could remember. The two boys were the same age and close companions. Two years younger than her brother, ten year old Erin was friends with Harry in her own right. Although Stuart and Harry had much in common, Erin was the one who shared Harry's passion for the pilots and planes of Hampton Airfield. Often the two would sit together for hours on the small hill overlooking the hardstand, watching the men and their fighter planes.

  With the 14th Squadron away, Harry was happy to see his friends, and even more excited for a chance to try out the new kite he had made.

  Running up the well-worn path, he called out, "I'll get my kite and be back in a second!"

  Too impatient to wait for Harry, Stuart began unwinding the ball of string connected to his kite. Worn from use, Stuart's kite was little more than tattered gray paper loosely stretched across a spindly wooden frame. Gracing the front was a hand drawn picture of an eagle. Erin helped Stuart with a few tangled knots and then carefully held the faded kite while her brother unwound some more string.

  With the screen door slamming shut behind him, Harry ran out of the house and leaped from the porch racing to join Stuart and Erin.

  "I just finished it last night!" Harry announced.

  Proudly, he presented his new kite for Stuart and Erin to inspect. They closely examined it. Stuart eyed the crisp seams that ran around the edge, tightly holding the wooden cross pieces together. Erin was impressed by the bright white paper and tail made from blue-gray cloth tied to the point.

  "Well," Harry asked, seeking their approval, "tell me, what do you think?"

  Stuart looked at Erin and the two children nodded their heads.

  "She's a beauty," Erin said in awe.

  "That's for sure, Harry," Stuart agreed, "but will she fly as high as mine?"

  "There's only one way to find out," Harry replied. "Let's put them up in the air!"

  The excitement of a friendly challenge charged through the boys. Erin held onto the two kites while Harry and Stuart each paced away with leaders of string. When a stiff breeze swept across the yard, Erin tossed both kites high into the air. At that moment, Stuart and Harry took off running. Catching the wind, the kites soared up into a bright blue sky.

  When the boys finally neared the hedgerow fence at the end of the field, Harry and Stuart stopped and turned to face their kites. Erin joined them and all three watched the dancing kites sweep from side to side through the air. Pulling tightly, the friends wrestled with their strings trying to make the kites fly higher.

  "Harry," Stuart s
aid breathlessly, "she's..."

  "Glorious," Erin finished.

  Proud of his kite, but considerate of his friends, Harry replied, "Thanks, Erin. Wouldn't you say she flies almost as well as Stuart's?"

  Stuart smiled at Harry's unselfish comment. "Aren't you going to paint a picture on it?" he asked.

  Harry scratched his head, and answered, "I want a picture that looks like one of Captain Dawson's planes, but I'm not that good at drawing a Hawker Hurricane."

  "Could your sister do it?" Erin asked.

  "Nah," Harry replied, "all she can draw is a bunch of flowers. I don't know anyone who can draw a good fighter plane."

  "We'll find someone, Harry," Stuart assured his friend. "And it will be great when it's done."

  The laughter and happy conversation of the three children carried on, echoing across the meadow while their kites flew high in the sky over Hampton County. For the moment, the destructive war raging throughout the world around them was far away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE TEXAS BUCKAROO

  The thundering roar of forty-eight American B-24 Liberators assembling overhead rattled windows throughout the city of Dover. The huge four-engine, twin-tail bombers had become a common sight during wartime.

  Although allied bomber formations often flew over the area, enemy bombers also passed overhead on their way to English targets. This time, the bombers were flying east out over the English Channel.

  The people of Dover, going about their morning business, smiled in relief when they recognized the large American star painted on the underside of the huge wings of each airplane. Both young and old, gazing upward, reassured each other of their safety for the time being. Still, it was only after the last plane flew over the roof tops and out to sea, that life returned to normal on the city streets below.

  Meanwhile, Captain Dawson was leading his squadron on a southeast heading to join the American bomber formation at the rally point. Within fifteen minutes of leaving Hampton Airfield, the swift RAF fighter planes were approaching Dover. The white cliffs along the coast sparkled in the bright morning sun. While surveying the scene below, Dawson's headset crackled with a message from one of his men.