Cold Peace

“Shall we listen to the news?” At Kit’s nod, Edwin got up to switch on the radio. 

“This is the BBC Home Service. At the top of the news, the House of Commons today debated the government’s policies concerning Germany and especially Berlin. Speaking on behalf of His Majesty’s government, Foreign Minister Bevin declared: (a recording of the Foreign Minister speaking was blended in) “We cannot abandon those stout-hearted Berlin democrats who are refusing to bow to Soviet pressure. We are fully conscious of the task that is before us and all the hindrances that may be put in our way, but His Majesty’s Government have decided to place at the disposal of the combined effort every possible resource we have.” 

The BBC Commentator continued, 

“Speaking for the Opposition, Mr Eden noted: (again the original voice recording was blended in) “Whatever effort the Royal Air Force and the joint air forces make, they will be making that effort not in war but in the cause of peace; they will be working to supply a civilian population exposed to cruel suffering; and this time they will be dropping on Berlin not bombs, but food.”  

“I wish I were doing that,” Kit declared abruptly. 

He no longer heard the radio, only the droning of the Merlins as Berlin crawled unbearably slowly beneath their wings. Blacked out, it was lit only by the sharp flashes of flak that blinded more than illuminated. Then quite unexpectedly, the rising moon slid out from between the clouds to shine down on lakes that suddenly glistened. Two lakes were separated yet connected by several narrow rivers or canals. 

“That’s the Spree,” the bomb aimer reported calmly. “We should be getting a marker flare soon.” 

Anxiously they peered out of the Plexiglas enclosing them. The water below was so calm that it reflected the moonlight like polished silver. Then flak exploded, ruining their night vision and knocking the Lancaster around.

“Green marker flare! Three o’clock.” The bomb aimer reported.

“Navigator to pilot: Steer 085.”

Loaded down with 6,000 lbs of explosives, the heavy bomber banked gracefully to starboard. A complex of large industrial buildings with smokestacks eased slowly into sight.

“Target Indicators dead ahead, Skip,” the bomb aimer reported sounding satisfied.

“Bomb doors open,” Don answered.

The flak edged closer again. The Lanc bounced and shuddered. The smell of cordite penetrated the interior and shrapnel clattered like metallic rain on the metal fuselage. Bursting explosives lit up the cockpit enough to see every detail in black and white but drained the colour away. Below them clusters of bright flashes erupted as bombs released from other bombers exploded on the city below. The incendiaries rapidly took hold and flames started to spread out across the darkness. The drops of flame slowly merged into a lake of fire. 

“Left, Skipper. Left. Left. Right. Steady. … Bombs gone.”

The Lancaster bounced upwards, relieved of her load, but they held their course for the photo flash. Below them, the smoke spreading over the flames dulled the glare from the incendiaries, transforming the image. It was as if a layer of molten lava was oozing over the city. Quite abruptly, the smoke shredded apart for an instant revealing, in the midst of the inferno, a graceful Gothic church with a tall spire. It had made Kit gasp.

Gradually, Kit noticed that he was surrounded by silence as he stood in the library at his father-in-law’s house. Edwin had turned off the radio. Kit remembered what he was doing here, the BBC announcer and the recording of the Parliamentary debate in which Mr Eden had said that the RAF would be bringing food rather than bombs to Berlin. He knew he’d said he wanted to do that, and he felt silly. “I’m sorry. That must have sounded childish,” he apologised with an embarrassed smile.

“That’s not the word I would have chosen,” Edwin replied dryly, “and it’s not the reason I turned off the radio.” Kit waited for what he would say next. “I felt a shiver run down my spine when you said that. I think you will be doing it — even if I can’t imagine how it will come about.”