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Authors: Mary Nichols
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countrymen going. In spite of everything …’
‘Everything?’ She sensed there was more to come.
‘The loss of our country. That comes hard and is bad enough,but unlike France we did not ask for an armistice. Poland will never surrender.’
‘That’s what Churchill said about this country; we will never surrender.’
‘Yes, I like his spirit. He welcomed us, not like that woman on the train and the air marshals who think we Poles cannot be trusted in one of their precious aeroplanes without an Englishman to hold our hands. We have been in combat, we know what it’s like, the British pilots are – how do you say it? – still wet behind the ears.’
Said in his strange accent, the phrase sounded excruciatingly funny, and she laughed. ‘Your English is very good. Where did you learn it?’
‘I was fortunate that my father was able to send me to a good school where English was on the curriculum and I read English at the university in Warsaw. Since I have been in England I have been employed teaching my compatriots the language and learning more myself. The Air Ministry will not let us fly in fighter squadrons until we have all learnt it. We have been put in the Volunteer Reserve of the Royal Air Force and are subject to King’s regulations. They wanted us to swear allegiance to the King but we refused. I have nothing against your king, you understand, but we are Poles, our allegiance is to Poland. It has made some of my countrymen very frustrated and angry. They cannot fight the Germans so they quarrel with each other.’ He sighed. ‘It is not good.’
‘No, but understandable. Is that all you have been doing, teaching English?’
‘No, I have been learning to fly in a Blenheim bomber with a British crew. Bombers are necessary but that is not the flying I know. I am a fighter pilot and my aim is to shoot down as manyGerman aircraft as I can. Then when there are no more, then I can go back to Poland and Rulka.’
‘Rulka is a pretty name. Is she pretty?’
‘She is beautiful. Here, I will show you.’ He felt in his breast pocket and produced a snapshot. ‘It is the only thing I brought out of Poland, except my wings.’
Louise studied the image. Rulka, standing beside Jan, was petite; the top of her head hardly came up to his shoulder. It was a black and white photograph but she could see that the girl’s hair was dark and she was indeed pretty. ‘She looks very young.’
‘She is small. I call her my
myszka
.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Mouse. She is my little mouse, but she has the heart of a lion. She will be twenty-four next week and I cannot even wish her a happy birthday.’
‘I am sure she knows you would if you could. Have you any other relatives in Poland?’
‘My parents live in Białystok – that’s occupied by the Soviets now. I have no idea what has happened to them. And I have an older brother, Jozef. He is in the cavalry and I haven’t heard from him since the war started. He might be dead. They all might be dead.’ His voice caught as he said this and she was afraid he was going to cry, but he pulled himself together suddenly. ‘What about you? Are you married?’
‘No, but I am engaged. Tony is in the air force, like you. He is doing his flying training.’ Afraid that he was going to ask where Tony was, and remembering all the posters that told everyone careless talk costs lives, she added, ‘He gets moved around a lot. I don’t always know where he is, but at least he’s in the same country as me and we can write to each other.’
‘Do you like writing letters?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I haven’t really thought about it. It’s just something I do.’
‘Would you write to me? Just now and again, just so I have …’ He paused, searching for a word. ‘An anchor.’
She felt truly sorry for him; he was in a strange country, not always welcome, his wife was thousands of miles away under Nazi tyranny, how could she refuse him? ‘Yes, if you
‘Everything?’ She sensed there was more to come.
‘The loss of our country. That comes hard and is bad enough,but unlike France we did not ask for an armistice. Poland will never surrender.’
‘That’s what Churchill said about this country; we will never surrender.’
‘Yes, I like his spirit. He welcomed us, not like that woman on the train and the air marshals who think we Poles cannot be trusted in one of their precious aeroplanes without an Englishman to hold our hands. We have been in combat, we know what it’s like, the British pilots are – how do you say it? – still wet behind the ears.’
Said in his strange accent, the phrase sounded excruciatingly funny, and she laughed. ‘Your English is very good. Where did you learn it?’
‘I was fortunate that my father was able to send me to a good school where English was on the curriculum and I read English at the university in Warsaw. Since I have been in England I have been employed teaching my compatriots the language and learning more myself. The Air Ministry will not let us fly in fighter squadrons until we have all learnt it. We have been put in the Volunteer Reserve of the Royal Air Force and are subject to King’s regulations. They wanted us to swear allegiance to the King but we refused. I have nothing against your king, you understand, but we are Poles, our allegiance is to Poland. It has made some of my countrymen very frustrated and angry. They cannot fight the Germans so they quarrel with each other.’ He sighed. ‘It is not good.’
‘No, but understandable. Is that all you have been doing, teaching English?’
‘No, I have been learning to fly in a Blenheim bomber with a British crew. Bombers are necessary but that is not the flying I know. I am a fighter pilot and my aim is to shoot down as manyGerman aircraft as I can. Then when there are no more, then I can go back to Poland and Rulka.’
‘Rulka is a pretty name. Is she pretty?’
‘She is beautiful. Here, I will show you.’ He felt in his breast pocket and produced a snapshot. ‘It is the only thing I brought out of Poland, except my wings.’
Louise studied the image. Rulka, standing beside Jan, was petite; the top of her head hardly came up to his shoulder. It was a black and white photograph but she could see that the girl’s hair was dark and she was indeed pretty. ‘She looks very young.’
‘She is small. I call her my
myszka
.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Mouse. She is my little mouse, but she has the heart of a lion. She will be twenty-four next week and I cannot even wish her a happy birthday.’
‘I am sure she knows you would if you could. Have you any other relatives in Poland?’
‘My parents live in Białystok – that’s occupied by the Soviets now. I have no idea what has happened to them. And I have an older brother, Jozef. He is in the cavalry and I haven’t heard from him since the war started. He might be dead. They all might be dead.’ His voice caught as he said this and she was afraid he was going to cry, but he pulled himself together suddenly. ‘What about you? Are you married?’
‘No, but I am engaged. Tony is in the air force, like you. He is doing his flying training.’ Afraid that he was going to ask where Tony was, and remembering all the posters that told everyone careless talk costs lives, she added, ‘He gets moved around a lot. I don’t always know where he is, but at least he’s in the same country as me and we can write to each other.’
‘Do you like writing letters?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I haven’t really thought about it. It’s just something I do.’
‘Would you write to me? Just now and again, just so I have …’ He paused, searching for a word. ‘An anchor.’
She felt truly sorry for him; he was in a strange country, not always welcome, his wife was thousands of miles away under Nazi tyranny, how could she refuse him? ‘Yes, if you
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