Top secret. A tale of the supernatural by Charles Roberts

I was stationed on a base where they carried out top secret aircraft development, it was out in the middle of nowhere and most of the personnel were civvies.  My job, if you could call it that, was to patrol the airfield side of two hanger, walking back and forth from one side to the other carrying a rifle, always at the ready.  Although the local police had been informed and did a good job of keeping sightseers away, they were backed up by the RAF police and a platoon of army, all dressed in civvies.  My orders were to shoot anyone who crossed the wire no matter who.

When they were to carry out a test flight I would get a message in my ear piece, then stand aside until the doors started to open, at which point I would climb onto the towing vehicle and ride out to the pad.  All the inspections had been carried out in the hanger and the aircrew were aboard.  The towing bar would then be disconnected and I would either ride back to the hanger or stand by the front wheels until ordered to return to the hanger to carry on with my patrolling, there were about eight different aircraft in that hanger.

When they landed I had to rush out and stand guard by the front wheel until the towing bar had been connected and the aircraft moved back into the hanger.  It was a boring, but essential job and I was going to make sure no one was going to get past me.  There were other lads who patrolled the sides of the hanger and if the shout went up then we all ran to help each other.  There was one bright sunny day when I saw someone come round the eastern end of the hanger.  I lifted my rifle into the firing position.

“Halt!” I called, they didn’t.

“Halt!  Stay where you are.”  They kept on walking towards the hanger doors, all I could see was his sillohete.

“Halt!” I shouted once more cocking the rifle, “or I will fire.” He stopped and stepped into the light shadow, that’s when I saw that it was the Station Commander.

“Would you have fired?” he called.

“I would obey my orders Sir.”

“And they are?”

“If anyone crosses line between the grass and tarmac then shoot, and shoot to kill.”

“Even if it were your Commanding Officer?”

“Sir!  Even if it was Her Majesty herself.”

I got a commendation for that encounter.  The second, and last, time I was tried out was late one day.  We did four hours on two hours off then another four hours on.  We’d start at eight in the morning, it was a dead boring job, but someone had to do it and we’d meet at the corner of the hanger for a quick fag before continuing our patrol, then one day I saw a Land Rover coming along the perimeter track, this wasn’t unusual, but there was something about this one that made the hackles on the back of my neck stand on end.

He turned towards the hanger so I brought my rifle up into the firing position.

“Halt!” I shouted as loud as I could, he kept on coming.

“Halt!” I shouted again, the driver either ignored me or couldn’t hear me.

I put my right arm up in the stop signal whilst still holding my rifle in the firing position, “Halt!” I screamed.  He kept coming.

“Halt or I fire!” I shouted putting my right hand back on the rifle. He ignored my command.  I dropped to my left knee and fired one round into his engine, well a seven point six two bullet can pass straight through an engine causing all sorts of damage on its way through.  His back wheels locked up in a cloud of burning rubber, hot steam and oil spurted out from under the bonnet and he came to a sudden stop; both doors flew open and the Station Warrant Officer and his second in command, Sergeant Thompson jumped out of the car to be faced with myself and the two lads from either side of the hanger, our rifles up and at the ready to fire.  “Place your twelve fifties on the ground in front of you then take twenty paces backwards,” I ordered, “and slowly.  We are prepared to fire if necessary.” We watched as they carefully removed their wallets from their back pockets and placed their identity cards on the ground before taking twenty paces backwards.

I had deliberately chosen that distance because there was a large muddy puddle about there.  I counted out the number of steps.

“Lie down with your arms in front of you,” I called.  They exchanged looks, “I will fire,” I called, then they lay face down in the puddle.  “Check their I.D’s will you” I asked one of the lads, he wasn’t too sure about it, “don’t worry they won’t move, not unless they want a seven point six two in them.”  I said this loud enough so that everyone could hear.  He walked slowly out to the identity cards and picked them up one at a time, carefully examining each one before placing it back on the ground.  He then retraced his steps, walking backwards to keep his rifle trained on the two.

“They’re real alright,” he said.

“Stand and collect your twelve fifties gentlemen.”  They both stood, muddy water running off their once pristine uniforms, my rifle was still aimed at the Station Warrant Officer though as he tried to brush the mud off his tunic.  They retrieved their I.D. cards before looking at the Land Rover with a pool of hot oil slowly spreading across the hard standing.

“Why didn’t you shoot me?  I was the driver.”

“Because, sir I could see both your hands on the wheel.  If anyone would have had a weapon it would have been your passenger.  I knew that hitting the engine where I did his vision would have been obscured by the steam which would mean that he would have to exit the vehicle before he could fire, but would have been dead, shot by one of the other guards.” 

All three of us were called up before the Station Commander and given a commendation for our actions.  The Mechanical Transport section weren’t very happy though, having to go out and tow the stricken Land Rover back to their yard as well as clean the oil off the hard standing.

That base was so security conscious that when the air crew had a briefing an armed guard was placed outside the doors of the room, one day in the mess he sat next to me.

“Will you do me a favour?”

“Depends on what it is,” I said.

“Well I stand outside that bloody briefing room and I don’t see anything, I don’t hear anything either.  You wouldn’t swap jobs for a day or two would you?”

“We’d have to get the Station Warrant Officers’ permission you know.”

“Yeah I know, but you know him.”

“Yeah!  I made him lie down in a puddle of stinking mud.”

“I heard about that, brilliant!”

“Well you don’t think that I’ll be in his good books, do you?”

“You only did your job.”

“All right!” I said, “but we’ll have to go through Sergeant Thompson.”

We sat and wrote a draft letter to the Sergeant asking if we could swap jobs for one day, I didn’t hold out much hope but after about a week I was called into the Station Warrant Officers’ office. 

“You want to exchange duties with Senior Aircraftsman Forbes?”

“Just for the one day, yes Sir.”

“Do you think that he could do your job?”

“We’re all trained the same Sir.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Sir?”

“Would you trust him with your life?”

“With respect Sir.  I don’t think that there is one person on this project who I wouldn’t trust with my life.”

He sat back in his large chair and interlocked his fingers, he looked at me for some time, weighing me up.

“You know lad!  I reckon that you are the best man we have on this station.  You could have shot the CO, you could have shot me, but made me lie down in a muddy puddle instead.”  He thought a little longer.  “Next Thursday you and Forbes will swap places.  It will be good to find out if Forbes is any good.  Now don’t you go telling him that?”

“No Sir!” I said smiling, I’d seen that glint in the Warrant Officer’s eyes before and knew that there was a plan forming, whether it was a surprise for Forbes or me I didn’t know.

Half past seven that Thursday I went to the armoury and drew my weapon, then walked up to the Station Headquarters and took up my position outside the briefing room.  Twenty past eight the aircrew started to arrive, I saluted each one as they entered, then the Station Warrant officer and Commanding officer.  I closed the doors and took up my position, my rifle at the slope.  Four civilians started to walk up the corridor towards me, I brought my rifle round to bare on them, and the lead man carefully removed a card from inside his jacket and held it out at arm’s length.

“You’re new aren’t you?”

“Sir!”

“We’re here to give the briefing, this is Mr Adams from the Met office, Mr Rowlands from Rolls Royce the engine people, Mr Davis avionics and I am Gordon Write from the weapons systems.  I hope we’re not late.”  I inspected the offered card then stepped aside.

“They are waiting for you gentlemen.” I looked them up and down as they passed in single file, we had been taught what to look for, and where to look for concealed weapons.  I closed and locked the door behind them, then stood with my back to the door my rifle at the slope ready to spring into action at the slightest movement or provocation.  No one moved on that corridor while those doors were closed and the key stayed in my right trouser pocket, the only other key was held by the Station Commander who was inside the briefing room.

About an hour and a half later I heard the key turn in the lock so stepped aside saluting the officers as they exited the room followed by the civilians.

“You can stand down now.” The Station Commander said as he passed, he was the last one out, he gave me a second look, I think that he recognised me from our meeting in front of the hanger when I’d almost shot him.  I watched them disappear down the corridor and down the steps before I locked the door then walked down the back stairs and across the road to the guard room where I handed the briefing room keys to the Station Warrant Officer; he sent me out to do gate duty, which meant checking the I.D. cards of everyone who wanted to go onto the station.  I heard the aircraft take off, then the shit hit the fan.

Normally when the aircraft took off I would go back to patrolling in front of the now closed hanger doors, but Forbes had just disappeared, he was nowhere to be seen.  He had ridden out to the hard standing on the towing vehicle then when they had disconnected the towing arm and he should have walked back to the hanger, he just vanished.  The aircraft was recalled because they thought that he might have climbed up into the wheel housing, they checked the inside of the hanger, the outside of the hanger and all the associated buildings round it.  The Station Warrant Officer ordered the gates to be closed and locked, the station went into full lock down mode.  No one was allowed on or off the station, within minutes extra police and army personal arrived.

I was called into the Station Warrant Officer’s office.

“What do you know about Forbes?  Who does he hang out with when not on duty? Who does he write to? Etc. etc.  I had the grilling of my life, questions being fired at me quicker than I could answer them, the only trouble was that I didn’t know anything about him.  I’d only seen him in the airman’s mess and then only passed the time of day with him, we never spoke about what we did on the base, in fact I knew more cooks than I did anyone else.  We had been told that security was paramount, the old world war two adage was still relevant, ‘careless talk costs lives,’ or in this case careless talk gave our state secrets away.

Very soon it was the talk of the station, ‘where was Forbes?  Who was Forbes?  I was sent back to my normal duties patrolling in front of number two hanger, I marched first one way then the other, my loaded rifle at the slope always ready to swing round into the firing position.  Un-be-known to me high level signals were flying round between the station and Group Headquarters, who was this senior aircraftsman Forbes?  Where was he posted from?  When was he posted into the station?  No one knew.  Group Headquarters signalled the Ministry of Defence about this man.  They wanted to know everything about him.  His service number, his Christian name or names and his date of attestation, the date he joined the Air Force.

It took the Ministry a week to locate Forbes.  Then everything came out but not before something very strange happened on the base.  Although we were still in total lockdown the test flights were still being conducted.  Five days after Forbes had vanished I was patrolling as usual when I received a call that they were coming out of the hanger.  I walked to the hanger doors and waited for them to open, when they started to open and the towing vehicle started to drive out I jumped onto it and rode out to the hardstanding.  Then I stood guard until the aircraft was ready to taxi, walking back towards the hanger I noticed something lying in the grass by the side of the taxiway.  I went across to it and noticed that it was a rifle, but not an SLR which we carried but an old three-o-three, these went out of service in the sixties.  I immediately radioed my NCO and stood over the rifle so that no one could touch it.  Soon the Station Commander, the Station Warrant Officer and the Squadron Leader of the RAF police arrived and looked at the weapon.

Each weapon has a serial number and that number is allocated to an individual airman.   The serial number was checked and it was found to have been issued to a six nine two aircraftsman second class Forbes in nineteen forty two.  Further investigation reviled that he had been killed in a German air raid on August the twenty fifth in nineteen forty three when number two hanger had been badly damaged by a five hundred pound bomb.