Where Eagles Never Flew: A Battle of Britain Novel

“Is that all, sir?” Ginger asked hopefully, anxious to end this uncomfortable one-on-one with a CO, who frightened even the commissioned officers.

“Now that you mention it, no.” Ginger waited for the axe to fall. “I understand from your ground crew that you suffer from airsickness.” Priestman levelled his eyes on Bowles as he said this.

Bowles looked down and his ears started to turn red. “If that’s what you want to call it, sir.”

“I’m surprised your instructors passed you out of training. Airsickness is no one’s fault, obviously, but it is a serious impairment to effective flying.”

Bowles’ expression became very stubborn as he looked up and met his commanding officer’s eye. “I didn’t have it in training, sir. It has nothing to do with flying.”

“But you have been sick when flying – repeatedly, I was told.”

“I’m only sick when I see the enemy, sir,” Bowles told him bluntly, adding provocatively, “Am I going to be posted, too?”

“Is that what you want?” Priestman retorted sharply. Mickey had told him that his nickname in the squadron was “the Butcher.”

“No, sir.” Bowles stood before him, his face flushed with shame, but his lips pressed together resentfully and his blue eyes flashing defiance.

“You want to keep fighting despite this condition?” Priestman probed.

“Yes, sir. I carry paper bags.” Ginger pulled one out of his flight jacket pocket to show the squadron leader. “And I’ll clean the aircraft myself if you want me to. I’ve offered to do that before, but Sanders and Tufnel wouldn’t hear of it.”

“That’s not necessary, Bowles,” Robin tried to ease the tension. “If you are prepared to keep flying despite this discomfort, then I for one am honoured to have you with me.”

It took several minutes for Ginger to digest that, and he didn’t quite believe it. “You’re not going to post me, sir?”

“No, why should I? You’re one of my more experienced pilots, and I understand you have a credited kill.”

“That was just an accident, sir.” Ginger hastened to explain, feeling embarrassed. “During the raid, everything was happening so fast that I didn’t have time to be sick, and suddenly there was this Stuka right smack in front of me, so I shot at it and it blew up.”

“That’s the way it happens for all of us half the time,” Robin told him with an amused smile. “Shall we go and get some tea?” He gestured towards the dispersal hut with his head.

“Thank you, sir,” Ginger replied automatically, and then he realised that he really was thankful. The CO wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the others made him out to be. At least he cared whether Ginger was sick or not. Jones must have known about it too, but he hadn’t cared.