“Hello, I'm Walter. Are you alright?” He was a handsome young man looking very smart in his uniform, lieutenant commander in the Royal Navy. He must have been about thirty or thirty-five.
“Yes, I think so, just a bit confused.” She was a little older than he but just as smart in her ATA uniform. She was trailing a flying helmet in her left hand.
“Perhaps I can help, come and sit here and tell me what you remember." She sat beside him, his warm smile filling her with confidence.
“I took off from Blackpool this morning. I'd been to stay with my sister, Molly, because the weather had closed in. I was supposed to be flying an ‘Ox-Box' from Prestwick to Kidlington.”
“Ox-Box?” His brow wrinkled.
“An Airspeed Oxford Mark 2; it's air force slang. I thought it a good idea to stay with Molly overnight, see if the weather improved. It did, for a while.”
“Isn't Kidlington in Oxfordshire? You were a bit out of your way, weren't you?"
“I hadn't a clue where I was. I had no radio and every time I dropped below cloud level the wind shield iced up and I couldn't see a thing. Fuel was getting low and I was getting desperate. Then through a break in the clouds I spotted some barrage balloons. I assumed that they must be around an industrial area and I could bail out. I set the plane on a course to ditch in the North Sea and hit the silk. Damn stupid plane immediately ran out of fuel and crashed. Or should I say splashed. I heard it hit the water and knew I was in trouble. I wasn't safely over dry land as I thought. I was about to hit the drink without a life jacket.”
“We saw you come down. I'm captain of HMS Haslemere of Convoy CE21."
“Should you be telling me that? Careless talk and all that?”
“I don't really think that matters now, do you?” He smiled. “We were flying barrage balloons above the convoy. It stops enemy planes swooping down on us. Sorry we weren't an industrial area, just eighteen ships in the Thames estuary. It was about half past three in the afternoon with rain turning to sleet. We saw your parachute at about five hundred feet, so we altered course to get close to where you would hit the water. You were about a mile and a half away. When your plane hit it sank almost immediately. Just as I thought we would get close we hit a sandbank. That wasted a few precious minutes. As we struggled to get off the banks we could see what we thought were two bodies in the water.”
“That was my bag, the other body; my zip-up was pigskin, floated like a balloon.”
“One of the bodies was drifting close to the stern but every time we cast a line the current snatched it away. Jenks, my coxswain, climbed over the bulwarks trying to reach you. You cried out.”
“Hurry, please hurry!”
“That was it. We thought you were a boy, Jenks said you were a woman in a helmet.” Amy held up the helmet and grinned. “Then you disappeared round the stern and we feared that the props had got you. I thought there might be a chance, so I threw off my duffel and kicked off my boots.” She looked down at his stocking feet, the left toe sticking out through a hole. “God, that water was cold, so cold. I tried very hard to reach you, but it was too difficult, I couldn't find you. I found the damn bag.”
“So, what happens now?” She stood and looked around her.
“We wait, I suppose. Someone will tell us what to do. They all look pretty busy around here; there is a war on.” He grinned and took her hand. “It will be good to get a bit of a rest, I imagine, I don't know about you, but I've been rather busy lately. Convoy duty doesn't leave much time. You know your face is rather familiar.”
“I suppose it might have been once, but that was years ago.”
“Amy, you're Amy Johnson, Blighty's flying sweetheart."
“I was. And now I'm first officer Johnson of the ATA ‘Ancient Tattered Airmen'”.
“And women.”
“And women. Not so famous now and not much use; just a delivery girl.”
“And what do you think convoys do? I'm just a delivery boy. We deliver goods, just like you.”
A figure strode purposefully toward them. The smile was warm and welcoming.
“First Officer Amy Johnson CBE? Lieutenant Commander Walter Fletcher DSO? They are ready for you now.”
“Ready for us?” Amy looked uncertain.
“Yes, it's that way. Just move towards the light.”