Robertson was on duty that night in the control office. She had taken over from her predecessor, and she was now in charge of radio and telephone communications at Hartley, working closely under the control of a flight lieutenant at Group Headquarters, Charwick. Three stations formed the Group: Charwick, Wittington, and Hartley Magna. There was a Group W/T station at Pilsey, a hamlet three miles from Hartley; this was manned for operations by the signals officers from the three stations working in rotation.
In the control building on the aerodrome a radio and telephone room opened out of the control office; this housed the R/T sets and the more secret equipment, and a small telephone switchboard. Four girls were normally on duty in this room upon an operations night, with Section Officer Robertson in charge of them, unless she was on duty at the Group W/T station, when Section Officer Ford took the control. The work was not very difficult. It mainly consisted of taking signals as they came in and marking up a very large blackboard, showing the position of each aircraft in the successive stages of its flight in order that the Wing Commander and the control officer could see the operational position at a glance.
That night the aircraft took off for Dortmund in succession between seven-thirty and eight-fifteen. Miss Robertson was busy with her chalk upon the blackboard while all that was going on; then there was a lull as the machines were winging outward to the target. At ten o’clock she gave the Squadron Leader who was serving as control officer a cup of tea and a piece of cake, and had a little meal herself, sitting at her desk in a corner of the control-room. At 10.35 the first “Mission completed” signal came through, and began another round of duty for her with her bit of chalk.
One by one she marked them up as the messages came through upon the telephone from the W/T station. D for Donald—that was Sanderson. L for London, Humphries. S for Sammy, Johnson. N for Nuts, Davy. R for Robert, Marshall.
She chalked up N for Nuts and R for Robert on the board. The bare office room seemed suddenly more cheerful; she looked through into the radio-room and asked the W.A.A.F. corporal for another cup of tea. From his desk the control officer glanced up at the board. “Davy and Marshall,” he remarked. “I wasn’t losing any sleep for them.”
She was curious, and vaguely resentful. “Why not, sir?” she enquired. “The risk’s the same for all of them, isn’t it?”
He said briefly: “Those two have been at this for years. They know all the answers.”
He sat thoughtful for a moment, his eyes fixed on the blackboard, studying the ciphers and figures written neat in the lined spaces. “Check back to Group,” he said quietly, “and see if they’ve got anything from H for Harry.”
H for Harry was Pilot Officer Forbes, the second aircraft to take off that night. A minute later Section Officer Robertsonsaid: “Nothing yet from H for Harry, sir.”
The control officer said absently: “Okay.”
At one-fifteen the first aircraft, D for Donald, was heard making a wide circuit overhead, and the operation of landing the machines began. By two o’clock they were down and parked at the dispersal points, all except the one. Gervase Robertson stayed on with her sergeant and her corporal in the control-room till after four o’clock, combing by telephone the aerodromes and W/T stations throughout the country for some news of H for Harry. In the cold hour before the dawn she walked back grave and sleepy to her bed, unsuccessful.
Chapter Three
Long ago to thee I gave
Body, soul, and all I have—
Nothing in the world I keep:
All that in return I crave
Is that thou accept the slave:
Long ago to thee I gave
Body, soul, and all I have.
Had I more to share or save,
I would give as give the brave,
Stooping not to part the heap;
Long ago to thee I gave
Body, soul, and all I
In the control building on the aerodrome a radio and telephone room opened out of the control office; this housed the R/T sets and the more secret equipment, and a small telephone switchboard. Four girls were normally on duty in this room upon an operations night, with Section Officer Robertson in charge of them, unless she was on duty at the Group W/T station, when Section Officer Ford took the control. The work was not very difficult. It mainly consisted of taking signals as they came in and marking up a very large blackboard, showing the position of each aircraft in the successive stages of its flight in order that the Wing Commander and the control officer could see the operational position at a glance.
That night the aircraft took off for Dortmund in succession between seven-thirty and eight-fifteen. Miss Robertson was busy with her chalk upon the blackboard while all that was going on; then there was a lull as the machines were winging outward to the target. At ten o’clock she gave the Squadron Leader who was serving as control officer a cup of tea and a piece of cake, and had a little meal herself, sitting at her desk in a corner of the control-room. At 10.35 the first “Mission completed” signal came through, and began another round of duty for her with her bit of chalk.
One by one she marked them up as the messages came through upon the telephone from the W/T station. D for Donald—that was Sanderson. L for London, Humphries. S for Sammy, Johnson. N for Nuts, Davy. R for Robert, Marshall.
She chalked up N for Nuts and R for Robert on the board. The bare office room seemed suddenly more cheerful; she looked through into the radio-room and asked the W.A.A.F. corporal for another cup of tea. From his desk the control officer glanced up at the board. “Davy and Marshall,” he remarked. “I wasn’t losing any sleep for them.”
She was curious, and vaguely resentful. “Why not, sir?” she enquired. “The risk’s the same for all of them, isn’t it?”
He said briefly: “Those two have been at this for years. They know all the answers.”
He sat thoughtful for a moment, his eyes fixed on the blackboard, studying the ciphers and figures written neat in the lined spaces. “Check back to Group,” he said quietly, “and see if they’ve got anything from H for Harry.”
H for Harry was Pilot Officer Forbes, the second aircraft to take off that night. A minute later Section Officer Robertsonsaid: “Nothing yet from H for Harry, sir.”
The control officer said absently: “Okay.”
At one-fifteen the first aircraft, D for Donald, was heard making a wide circuit overhead, and the operation of landing the machines began. By two o’clock they were down and parked at the dispersal points, all except the one. Gervase Robertson stayed on with her sergeant and her corporal in the control-room till after four o’clock, combing by telephone the aerodromes and W/T stations throughout the country for some news of H for Harry. In the cold hour before the dawn she walked back grave and sleepy to her bed, unsuccessful.
Chapter Three
Long ago to thee I gave
Body, soul, and all I have—
Nothing in the world I keep:
All that in return I crave
Is that thou accept the slave:
Long ago to thee I gave
Body, soul, and all I have.
Had I more to share or save,
I would give as give the brave,
Stooping not to part the heap;
Long ago to thee I gave
Body, soul, and all I
Similar Books
