My interest in writing was kindled and influence by “Roald Dahl” in my opinion one of the best short story writers of all time.  I share with him a love of all things Aviation and military.

Roald Dahl was born September 13th 1916.  When he was 23 years old when the second world war broke out in Europe, he volunteered for the R.A.F. and was accepted for pilot training.  He eventually became a Spitfire pilot and such was his prowess as a pilot he became a fighter ace having shot down over seven enemy aircraft.

After the war Roald concentrated on his writing career publishing his first compilation of aviation short stories in 1946.  He carried on writing till his death in 1990.  His talents for writing was not limited to aircraft, he was a prolific writer of children’s books such as “Charlie and the chocolate factory” and “James and the giant peach” and “The railway children” to mention just a few.  He had his own T.V. series called “Tales of the unexpected” a huge success which ran for decades, and movie stars of the day were queuing up to take part in his T.V. series. [I have the theme tune from that series as a ring tone on my mobile phone! Sad but true]

The Christmas un-stoppable machine is nearly upon us I am going to tell a shortened version of Mr Dahl’s apparently true Christmas tale.

                                                                   The Shepherd.

The year was 1965 the place west Germany. Pilot Officer Steven Barnes was called into the Group captains office and told “Right Barnes I here your wife has just given birth to your son?” “Yes sir we are calling him Richard” the Group captain continued “Its Christmas eve and you have pulled duty pilot for the next 48hrs, now despite what you think of me I’ll tell you what your going to do” 

The Group captain walked to the window and explained that the parked up Gloster Javelin an all weather fighter was fuelled, and ready to fly, and your to fly to Britain and spend Christmas with your wife and baby.  The flight plan has been  agreed and filed with air traffic control. The Group captain continued “I’m taking your shift as duty pilot so if the Russians invade this Aerodrome I shall blame you now get going! Before it gets dark, it should take you no more than 2hrs to reach R.A.F. Scampton, once you land a transport will be made available to you, now your dismissed”

Barnes couldn’t believe his luck.  With his flight gear on he walked over to the maintenance hanger and accepted charge of the futuristic looking fighter.  He enquired if the fighter was all in order? The chief mechanic assured him it was now, the aircraft  wasn’t dispatched with the other Javelins due to a minor electrical problem with the instrumentation which was rectified and the relevant paper work checked off.

Barnes accepted the powerful Javelin and signed the transfer papers as necessary.  The auxiliary power unit started and wound up the S.A.7 Jet engines that delivered 11,000lbs of thrust each.  The aldis lamp flashed green twice and Barnes pushed the throttles forward and engaged the ant-grav locks on the throttle quadrant, 90% thrust was set, when the thrust was achieved Barnes released the brakes and the Javelin leapt forward down the rain soaked runway.  At 135knots Barnes rotated into flight, retracting the under-carriage, he then set the engines to 75% power and gently climbed to his allotted cruise altitude of 18,000ft.

Over the north sea Barnes opened up the Javelin settling into a fast cruise of 380knots a ground speed of 450mph. This was higher than normal but he wanted to see his first born, and hey who monitors military aircrafts speed?  The weather began to close in quicker than he anticipated, he knew of a storm front coming in but he figured he could out run it, hence the 380knots.

The sun began to sink over the horizon and Britain was a ways off yet.  Barnes could imagine the embrace of his wife and smell the turkey cooking away in the kitchen.  He knocked off the grav-locks and took the S.A.7 engines up to 85% his knots gauge nudged 440! Approximately 500mph.

He would be early to R.A.F. Scampton but he would radio ahead so they expected him.  The light was virtually gone so he reached across to aux-panel and switched on the instrument lighting, they flickered on then went out with a  bang nothing! No instruments no cabin heater no lights, even the warning lights on the wing tips went out.  Barnes flicked on the radio to call the nearest base in Britain, nothing not even a crackle on his head phones.  “Shit!” Barnes shouted at the top of his voice, but there was no one to hear him.

Barnes reached down into his flying suit and pulled out a small mag light, he shone it on the map strapped to his right leg, doing a quick mental calculation he figured he was 25minutes from land fall.  He shone the mag-light on the instruments only a couple were working the ones not dependent on electrical current, the altimeter registered 18,200ft, he needed to lose height in case the oxygen pump failed then he would black out and it would be curtains for him!

Barnes eased back the throttles to around the halfway position the thrust gauges were out.  He pushed the joy stick forward, the Javelin entered a shallow dive towards the north sea.  Reading by mag-light he levelled the Javelin out at 8,000ft, Barnes removed his flying helmet and mask and breathed deeply trying to instil calm into his mind.

The weather was oblivious to the fighter pilots predicament, and it continued to close in, and a warm front of air from the land clashed with the cold front approaching Britain, and a curtain of fog descended down to zero feet!  Barnes had three choices, do an about face and fly back to Germany where the weather front had not reached? He thought Did he have enough fuel doubtful, so option one is out, Option 2 Eject he would land in the sea his life jacket would inflate and he could take his chances of being picked up by air sea rescue? If they even knew he was there? Barnes disliked this option intensely! Option three slowly descend and try to find a break in the fog and put this beast down at any aerodrome in sight,  Barnes opted for option three.

The decision made he pushed the control column further forward and squinted to see the altimeter unwind to 2’000ft he then levelled out. By dead reckoning Barnes figured he was over the coast of northern Britain but without a radio fix he was guessing.  He had a ground registering Radar but the electrical short had taken out nearly everything. He made a decision he would set the Javelin in a large circle descending to 1’500ft and hope the weather would break enough so he could find an airstrip, no way was this aircraft designed to land on un-made strips or fields, she was too damn heavy.

In his darkest hour a strange thing happened, Barnes saw a dark shape following him slightly below and to his starboard side, he watched it for several seconds it was definitely following him!  A shadow of his aircraft in the fog? Not possible there was no sun light or moon light 10/10s visibility! Barnes waggled his wings whilst keeping his eyes on the dark shape, they didn’t waggle, if it had been a reflection they would have mirrored his movements.  The shape was falling slightly behind so Barnes put the engines back to idle to decrease his airspeed as much as he could without causing the Javelin to stall and fall out of the sky.

Barnes drew nearer to the dark shape it became clearer and clearer, it was definitely another aircraft, it had a camouflage paint scheme green and brown, and an R.A.F. Roundel! He cried out “What the bloody hell” either side of the roundel were identifying letters they read, TE/G now nothing in the R.A.F. these days is identified with three large numbers and camouflage, he let his eyes wander up and down the straight winged aircraft it had two engines powering two propellers, it had a sleek shape, four cannons protruded out of the front of the fuselage.  No mistaking it, it was a De-Havilland Mosquito! Surely not they hadn’t been in service for 20 years odd.

Barnes thought to himself it must be a war-bird restoration aircraft, why oh why would a civilian pilot be so dumb as to fly in this pea-soup of a fog? He felt a slight shuddering on the rudder pedals and control column he was inducing a stall.  Barnes pushed the throttles slightly forward and the vibration stopped and everything smoothed out.  From memory he knew the Javelin would stall out at around 130knots.

Why was this aviation nut following me? I’m lost and running low on fuel I’ve got to be.  Barnes saw an increased orange glow from the exhaust stubs of the Mosquito it pulled easily up to his height and matched his airspeed.  Now they were side by side Barnes could see into the cockpit of the Mosquito, the pilot was wearing a leather flying helmet and standard issue R.A.F. goggles, he was sporting a huge handlebar moustache!

“Wow” Barnes exclaimed this guy is a serious enthusiast! The pilot of the mosquito suddenly put up his thumb enquiring if Barnes was ok? Barnes shook his head and put the thumbs down sign up.  The mosquito pilot made circular motions with his hand and then pointed downwards, he did this several times!  Barnes knew what the Mosquito pilot wanted but was he crazy wanting to descend and possibly land in this fog!  Reluctantly Barnes raised his right thumb and nodded, the thumbs up was returned.  The Mosquito waggled its wings twice then began falling back and banking to the right.

Crazy as it may seem Barnes trusted the other pilot maybe he had Radar? Or was in contact with an airport? Either way it was hope! Barnes followed the Mosquito barely able to see him, he was guided by the glowing exhaust stubs from the Rolls Royce Merlin 45s.

The altimeter showed zero in the Javelin, sweat was breaking out all over his forehead, suddenly the cloud broke Barnes saw a runway then a control tower, the Mosquito was still in front of him.  For the last time the Mosquito waggled his wings then pulled up sharply into the fog and clouds.  The runway was approaching fast Barnes dropped the under-carriage on emergency compressed air and flared up and put the heavy fighter on the deck.  Standing on the brakes the Javelin stopped inches from the perimeter fence at the runways end!

Barnes put his head in his hands and wept quietly he was saved he would see his son!  A battered up old Willis jeep jerked to a stop beside his fighter and an ageing over-weight officer saluted the aircraft from his jeep.  A ladder was provided and Barnes touched the runway after three and a half hours of terror.  The slightly swaying officer saluted Barnes and extended his right hand, “Nice landing son bit close at the end, but then I guess this runway wasn’t designed for jets, Captain Jones at your service” 

The captain made small talk as he drove towards the concrete buildings, “We could hear you old chap circling us for ages, we tried all radio channels but no joy, so we put on the runway lights and outer beacons for you, surprised they still worked, cant have been switched on for five years you know”  The captains belly rose and fell in time with his laughter  “You see in the new year the brass are closing this station down only been a storage facility since the war really haven’t seen a crate like yours down here, a Javelin isn’t it?”  Barnes shook himself from his thoughts, “yes that’s right Javelin Mk 7 all weather interceptor fighter.  I’m pilot officer Steven Barnes attached to N.A.T.O. in west Germany, I cant say which unit I’m sorry its procedure”

The smell of whiskey clung to the portly Captains clothes he continued “No problem you don’t have to tell me, not a problem I understand hush hush, you can use our radio and let whom ever it is know your safe Let me take you to our mess its just over there I’ll fix you up with a drink for Christmas and some grub”

They entered the mess and an ancient steward shuffled from the background the captain spoke, “Sergeant, fix our gallant pilot a drink and some grub please, he’s staying the night, nothings moving in this fog” the captain saluted again and turned for the exit door when Barnes said “The Mosquito where is that based? Surely he shouldn’t be flying in this fog its lethal” “Mosquito? What are you talking about old chap the only thing flying tonight is you and your Javelin and Santa claws!” 

Barnes made his phone call to Germany and Scampton then his wife.  A rescue mechanical crew was to be at the base by 10.00am tomorrow to fix the Javelin or take Pilot officer Barnes to Scampton.  Barnes returned to the mess a fire was raging in the hearth and a silver tray was laid out next to a high backed leather chair.  Barnes sunk in the worn arm chair and drunk the pint of bitter and whiskey chaser straight down.

He stood by the fire place warming himself when he spied a black and white photo on the mantle piece, a rather tall pilot was standing in front of a pristine De-Havilland Mosquito, the identification letters were TE/G! he then looked at the pilot, he was tall dark and sporting a huge handle bar moustache! Barnes legs went wobbly he staggered to his chair and sunk down, the steward emerged from the back room and said “I’ve made a bed up for you, its two doors down on your left hope its alright I’ve lit a fire for you I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast”.

 The steward turned to leave when Barnes blurted out “That pilot in the picture and that Mosquito, I saw them tonight they helped me to land I would have had to eject without his help I was running out of fuel, I was blind ,no radio no fixes nothing, but he helped me in to land here tonight!” The steward looked to the ceiling and then to the floor again and said “Your talking about Wing Commander Donald Hudson if that’s him you saw in that picture?  Well you must have been a bit err mistaken sir,”

The steward continued “See I was working here the night he died in 1945 he landed in a fog like this one terrible no vision at all, he was blessed with incredible eye-sight and hearing.  Well known for it he was, he used to go up on nights like this, to help bombers find this aerodrome if they were all shot up and lost, and that was after his path finder operation over Germany!  Thing was he went up one night in a terrible fog to help a Lancaster find our base, and he never came home, he must of crashed run out of fuel most likely, but in a way we feel he’s still here with us!”

Lord Banks [Based on a short story by Roald Dahl