This one was a Spitfire.
It roared directly overhead
Our driver, Schmidt, was already spinning the car off the road into the trees as far as it would go, while Hans and I were still shouting, and instinctively throwing our bodies on top of the girls.
"Out! Out!" It was Hans who took command, and we leaped out, Heidi didn't need any help, but Schmidt gave Hans a lending hand getting Josie and her leg brace to safety, and we all took refuge deeper in the wood.
We waited there for several minutes while we got our breath back, and then started laughing. Hans was swapping war stories with Schmidt, while I had the two girls to myself again. They had twigs in their hair and grass stains on their new skirts and didn't care a bit.
"Well that's another one for the diary on this trip!"
"Do you keep a diary Heidi?"
"No, of course not, Rollie!" Heidi blushed.
"She does!" Josie laughed. "And you're in it Herr Kaleun!"
"Have you been reading it Josie!"
"How could I, if it doesn't exist. And you tell me everything anyway!"
"Such as...?" I couldn't resist asking.
"Sir, we need to think about our immediate situation," Hans interrupted. "Schmidt knows this road.."
Schmidt coughed. "Yes sir, spitfires often come along here, I think they use the roads to navigate; sometimes they are armed, but maybe looking for bigger targets, sometimes they do shoot you up; sometimes they are just on a reconnaissance mission, taking photographs of our installations or troop movements. I think we might be ok with this one. Sometimes they circle round and empty their guns" He shuddered. "This one kept on going. I think it was a routine recce mission, if you want to risk it back on the road, Sir?"
I looked at the girls. They just shrugged and looked at us with utter trust. I've seen that look before many times in the control room of the U-46, and the only thing to do is act on it.
"Ok let's go, otherwise we'll be late for dinner"
Soon after we set off, the spifire was back. Returning the same way it had come. Schmidt was relaxed. If he had any tracer left or any intention of shooting us up, he would have by now. (God I still hate planes though).
"Smile for the camera, everybody!"
And we waved at the pilot as he briefly circled, and then he waggled his wings and sped away back home.
And soon we were home too. At least the place we call our home, St Nazaire, and in my case, a slender metal tube with a green swordfish painted on each side..
LS
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