The Light Over London(49)

“I would love that,” she said.

“Of course, the moment your flier comes to town you’ll forget all about us,” Charlie teased.

“Have you had any word from Paul?” asked Vera.

The smile she’d been holding in since Cartruse had fallen asleep and she’d finally caved to the desire to read Paul’s letter broke free. “He’s coming on the first of September.”

“That’s wonderful!” cried Vera.

“Finally,” said Charlie with a laugh.

Louise fell back on her bunk, resting her head on one of the biscuits. “His letter came just before we left base. If our train had been any earlier, I’d have missed it.”

“It would’ve been forwarded,” said Charlie.

Louise smiled to herself, knowing that Charlie wouldn’t have understood why the letter was important now. That night they would go on duty for the first time. They’d no longer be doing exercises on a training field.

“I wanted to read it when we arrived, but you were all asleep and it was so horrible seeing all of the destruction here. I opened it just before we pulled into the station, and I’m so glad I did. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that he’s finally coming,” said Louise. “Sometimes I wondered if we’d ever see each other again.”

“I suppose letters are a poor substitute,” said Vera.

“They are,” Louise said. “I want all of you to meet him. I think you’ll adore him.”

“I suspect he’ll be much more interested in spending time alone with you than in meeting us,” said Charlie with a laugh.

“Gunner Charlotte Wilkes, I don’t know what you’re implying,” said Louise primly. She caught Vera’s eyes and grinned, and they all burst out laughing.

A loud wail pierced the air, drowning their merriment. An air raid siren. Immediately, they flew into action.

“Those bloody Nazis can’t even wait for us to get settled?” Charlie grouched as she dove for her kit.

Louise tore at the tunic skirt she’d worn for the journey from Oswestry and yanked on the trousers that were her battle dress. “What time is it?”

“Late enough,” said Vera. “It was almost dark when I did the blackout.”

Moving with the practiced skill of women who’d dressed under pressure countless times before, they yanked on their clothes and were in the hall in a minute flat. Nigella, Mary, and Lizzie were just leaving their room, their tin helmets jammed under their arms as they tightened jacket belts and tugged on sleeves.

Bombardier Barker, who had traveled down on the same train but had been invited into a separate compartment, strode through the doors that led to the stairs. “Look alive, ladies. We need to be to those guns in less than five minutes!”

The girls fell into an automatic, side-by-side stride and marched their way to the stairs. When Bombardier Barker threw open the doors, chaos greeted them. The slap of leather soles on the steps mixed with the excited chatter of women’s voices in a deafening cacophony. Uniformed women pushed and shoved their way down, heading for the reinforced concrete shelter in the basement they’d been told of upon arrival.

“Hey!” shouted a blond woman next to Louise. When Louise turned, the blonde’s eyes landed on the red and black bow and arrow of the Ack-Ack Command badge each girl had sewn to her sleeve, and her expression changed.

“You’re one of those gunner girls?” the blond woman asked. When Louise nodded, the woman gripped her arm. “You go shoot those bastards down.”

Louise’s mouth went dry. This was no training exercise. It was war.

Her nerves jumped in her stomach as Bombardier Barker marched them through the streets to their post, a stout, sturdy-looking building just outside the north wall of the Woolwich Depot. Up five flights of stairs they went in the blackout-enforced darkness. When finally they pushed through a reinforced metal door to the rooftop, the silhouette of the massive gun was just visible in the waning light of the moon.

“Where are the men?” asked Lizzie, looking around as she moved to check the Sperry.

“The Charlton Barracks are half a mile away,” squeaked Nigella, her hands trembling as she prepped her station at the height and range finder across from Charlie.

“All safe and sound away from Woolwich while we’re stuck next to a veritable powder keg?” said Mary with a laugh. “Sounds like those three.”

Charlie grinned. “The RA might have to finally let a woman fire one of these guns.”

“Gunner Wilkes,” Barker snapped.

“Apologies, Bombardier Barker. I’m just excited to finally be shooting at something other than a flag pulled behind a plane,” said Charlie cheerfully.

“Women do not shoot,” said Bombardier Barker. “That is an order from Parliament.”

“But we do everything else,” Vera muttered under her breath.

The metal door banged against the wall. Cartruse, Williams, Hatfield, and Captain Jones, the RA officer who oversaw B Section, poured out of the dark stairwell. They were accompanied by a man none of them had ever seen before, in a perfectly pressed uniform, and Bombardier Barker sharpened her posture and saluted the newcomer. “Sir.”

“So these are the gunner girls,” said the man, as though not entirely sure what to make of six women in trousers. “I’m Colonel Nealson. You were supposed to be briefed tomorrow, but there’s no time for that. You were also supposed to have a radio operator in the building. No time for that either. We’ve reports of a formation of fighters and bombers approaching from the Thames Estuary. They were just spotted over Dartford.”