Code Name Verity(70)

Had already attempted 2 circuits over field prior to passenger’s departure and found it dead tiring so I stayed overhead for half an hour to burn off fuel before a final attempt to land. Flare path remained lit so I assumed and had to trust that I was still expected – possibly my passenger had come down safely and informed the reception committee about the damage to the aircraft. Maintaining level flight continued to prove challenging and eventually I attempted a descent.

Not sure how I actually managed to get the dratted thing down, sheer obstinacy I expect. Rudder wouldn’t let me sideslip and even at low speed with flaps down and no power the blasted thing wanted to stick its nose up. Couldn’t let go to put the landing light on, came down in the dark tail first and bounced straight back up again – wish I’d seen it from the ground – snapped off the whole tailplane and the poor Lizzie came to rest with the back of the fuselage stuck in soft ground at the very end of the field, near where the rivers meet, the whole aircraft pointing straight up at the sky like a standing stone. Made me think of Dympna’s Puss Moth crash back on Highdown Rise only the other way up. I didn’t know what had happened till afterwards, as the control column thumped me in the stomach and knocked the wind out of me at the same time as the back of my head bashed against the armour plating of the bulkhead. Woke up hanging on my back in the cockpit staring at the stars and wondering how long before the Bang.

I’m not managing to make it sound like an Accident Report – bother. At least getting it down while I remember.

Had switched off ignition and fuel before landing as per Pilot’s Notes and Standing Orders for forced landing so all was quiet, a few creaks and groans but nothing else. Then three men of the reception committee, one of them English (an SOE agent, the organiser of this circuit, code name Paul), slid open the canopy and pulled me out of the cockpit upside down. All four of us landed on the ground in a big heap. These were my first words on French soil:

‘Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’

Over and over, thinking of the unlucky pair of refugees who were supposed to be ferried back to England on my return trip. And for good measure I remembered to say in French: ‘Je suis désolée!’ Oh, what a mess.

They helped me sit up and tried to get the mud off me. ‘This’ll be our Verity,’ the SOE organiser Paul said in English.

‘I’m not Verity!’

This was not helpful information, but it is what I burst out with.

Confusion and mayhem and a gun held to my head. Sorry to say the gun was far too much to cope with following my first ever reportable prang, in a plane I probably shouldn’t have been flying, and I burst into tears.

‘Not Verity! Who the hell are you?’

‘Kittyhawk,’ I sobbed. ‘Code name Kittyhawk. First Officer, Air Transport Auxiliary.’

‘Kittyhawk! My God!’ exclaimed the English agent. ‘You flew me to RAF Special Duties the night I came to France!’ Paul explained me in French to his companions, then turned back to me and said, ‘We were expecting Peter!’

‘He had a smash up in his motor car this afternoon. I shouldn’t –’

He covered my mouth with a big, muddy hand, and commanded, ‘Don’t say anything that could compromise you.’

I started blubbing again.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Flak over Angers,’ I sobbed. This was my proper normal guns-and-bombs reaction, coming an hour and a half later than usual. ‘Set fire to the tail and disconnected the tailplane trim cable and I think one of the rudder cables too. Had to dive to put the fire out, knocked poor Ju – Verity – out cold in the back, then had to fight the plane so hard for the last leg that I couldn’t look at the map – ’

And more sob, sob, sob, dead embarrassing.

‘You were hit?’

They were all astonished. Not because I’d been hit, I discovered later, but because I’d successfully managed not to go down in flames over Angers, and had safely delivered them their 500 pounds of Explosive 808. They have been painfully nice to me ever since, all of them. I don’t really deserve it. There is only one reason I did not go down in flames over Angers, and that is because I knew I had Julie in the back. Would never have had the presence of mind to put that fire out if I hadn’t been trying to save her life.

‘Going to have to destroy your plane, I’m afraid,’ Paul said next.

Didn’t know what he meant at first, as I thought I’d done a dead brilliant job of destroying it myself.