04 - Giles And Lady

BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON

by Prof S Ofer

Draft TWO

04 Giles and Lady [Fall 1937::Lady=14] Surely enough, Lady signed for a serious looking envelope at the Post Office only a few days after Edward had hurried off with her new contract in hand. Inside the big envelope was an even more serious one with five wax seals holding its red cord binding. She wondered, amusedly, if it were alright for her to open it? I hope they don't send the armed guard to carry me off if I break these seals, she was mumbling to herself. That failed to stop her removing the cords and opening the heavy tan wrapper. The Christmas gifts inside were SO exciting. Among many things there was especially the passport made out to Lady Qormi. Major(ATA). Oh, my goodness! She had no idea such exciting elevations were possible. There were many pages of MI5 'how-to-do-its'. Finally, amongst the rules was a separate packet of orders. That is what she wanted to find. But there was difficulty understanding it once she had found it. What did all this mean? By 16 December 1940, she was to report for service to STS section at Swordland on Lake Morar. She looked Morar up on the map. Could they be serious? Lake Morar was up at the top of Scotland, in the dead of Winter. Were they planning on testing her resistance to frostbite? From what she could make out, the orders stated that she would receive preliminary training in carrying out the duties of her office; then she would receive training in Trade Craft; after that she would attend Flight School and finally she would be checked out in the appropriate aircraft. Before all that however, she was to stop off in London where she would be fitted, and then given suitable transportation – and maybe the answers to just a few questions as well? She located her itinerary for the London trip, which was aboard an Imperial Airways flight from Malta to Gibraltar and then to London. [Friday 03 December 1937] :: 14 Lady was amazed. Within 40 hours of the time she boarded the Imperial Airways flight in Malta, she was getting out of the taxi in a mews off Thorney Street. It was the Third of December, and it was snowing lightly, but big fluffy flakes in London. She had never seen snow before – couldn't say that after Lake Morar, though.

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BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON

by Prof S Ofer

Draft TWO

She got her first view of the Thames as the taxi motored down the Millbank, and the sight of this legendary river was more than she had expected it to be – she was not certain just what she had expected, but it was, nevertheless, fulfilling. Inside Thames House she met many people. Everyone was nice, but no one called her 'Major'. She was just as glad. She had no idea how a major should respond when addressed. Perhaps, she would learn that when studying for the duties of her office? The fitting, she discovered, was for clothing. It was literally a fitting. She was to get a female major's kit, various shades of dress from formal to casual, and especially warm weather gear sufficient for her vacation on the beaches of Lake Morar. Like a package of cheese, she was taken from place to place, fitted, poked and prodded, and in the end was given a packet of fresh orders. No end to orders, it seems. Finally, by the end of the day she was brought back very nearly where she had started, to a private inn on Horseferry Road. The driver checked her in, where she found she was rooming in a suite with three other young ladies. They seemed very nice, but everyone was a bit shy in the face of the newcomer. Soon enough Lady found out how giggly they could be – for instance in digesting her name. And then they got more giggly when it came to discussing the 5 young gentlemen who were also in their group. Tomorrow they would all fly to the far North together. Tonight, they would all meet in a private dining room and, presumably, begin the process of becoming acquainted. The following morning, after a drive to Croyden in the dark, they were expected to jam into an Oxford with passenger configuration – except there seemed to be too few seats. That was when she first heard her name mentioned. The driver of the small bus had pulled up to the twin engined Oxford already being warmed up on the tarmac. As they stood by the plane, he shouted over the engine noise: Everyone leave your gear on the bus for a following flight and then find a seat on the plane. Major Qormi, you will fly as Second Officer. As soon as they realized just who the “major” might be (Lady walked from the back through the pack and climbed in to help the pilot – as soon as they saw that their quiet dark princess was the Major) everyone grew silent. Each with his own thoughts watched as she reached up to retract the door handle, open the funny V shaped door and climb up on the wing in order to board. Then they all began chattering at once, as they too jammed into the small plane. The pilot, a delightful lad from the Bahamas, was very impressed with how quickly Lady learned to control a plane she had never flown before. The Oxford was a bit skittish in places, even demanding, and had he known the nature of her short career in flying he would probably never have offered the yoke to her. But based upon what he saw, he asked the 'Major' if she would like to land the plane after flying over the snow for an hour. Lady gulped at that prospect, but didn't say no -- yet. She said, Well lets see. She took the Ox-box down between the mountains at the Lake's Western divide, then testing the strength of the North Sea wind coming straight at them from the East, she flew the length of the lake. She could see where a 100 foot wide path had been scraped down the ice for about 1,500 yards. Knowing that her brakes would be pointless, she told the Bahamanian lad that she would feel better if he took it down. Laughing, he said, I don't blame you. No way can we stop in that short length of icy runway. Hopefully, it won't be too rough when we plow through at the far end. He took the controls, flew around once more, locked the the tail wheel, let down the landing gear, and opened the flaps to full while maneuvering slowly between the mountains over the Morar River. Plodding along nose up at stalling speed, he knew he was blessed to be in the teeth of the gale coming down the shoot. He slowly inched ahead, dropping down closer to the ice every second. At about 5 feet altitude he chopped the throttle and landed several yards

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BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON

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Draft TWO

short of the cleared runway but in a nice three wheeled attitude. Happily, old snow was not piled at this end and no bad ice grabbed them, so he was actually able to coast to a stop, props entirely feathered, before plowing too heavily into the bank at the far end. Lady clapped her gloved hands and grinned at the very nice landing. The Bahamanian lad was delighted that he had shown off so well for this beautiful new major, and thus saved them all from a nose-down pile up in the snow banks. Lessons got underway that very evening. Lady had never imagined that such concentrated learning were possible. For sixty days they were reading, practicing and testing, until their heads were a whirl. They never left, except for short tramps through snow covered hills. By March the sun was coming out but there was no indication of a thaw. They were given one final pep talk to mark the end of the course, the yellow road grader came back to scrape a new path across the lake – this time almost twice as long. And they were picked up and flown back to London by a different pilot in the same Ox-box -- only this time the Major was trimmed out in her new uniform. [Mid March 1938] ::15 [Monday 06 Jan 1941] ::Giles=19; Lady=18 Giles went down to the squadron slips and met some of the crew. One group of maintainance men had the cowling pulled from a Swordfish and were working on the ever present oil leaks. The sergeant with his hands caught up in the guts of the radial engine looked over his shoulder and asked Giles if he would turn it up for him. 'Give it a try, Giles said. He checked the tie down lines and asked the mechanic what pressure he wanted to pull on the manifold gage. The Sergeant said to keep it low, but keep his eye on him to tell precisely. Giles then wondered if he could stand on the pontoon to reach the stirrup for climbing to the trailing edge. The mechanic nodded yes. Giles climbed into the cockpit while the Sergeant plugged in auxiliary power. Looking at the strange array of instruments, Giles shouted, Stand Clear, Stand Clear, to both port and starboard. He turned on the magneto and cranked the engine three times with the throttle closed. Then he set the fuel to rich, the throttle to one third, and started cranking for real. He was terrified that it would not catch. Soon, all cylinders belched forth their pent up gas in the form of black smoke, and he felt the comforting response of a splattering roar. He let it run up just a few RPMs and then backed off. Pleased that this new Pegasus engine had started on his first attempt, he looked out at the mechanic who, seeing that Giles seemed to know what he was about, went behind the whirling props and stuck his hands back into the guts of the beast – only now it was breathing fire. The mechanic than stepped back and signaled Giles in a finger circling movement to turn it up. Giles was cautious. He inched the throttle and looked again. The same circular motion, a bit faster. Giles edged the throttle higher, but the mechanic was saying more more. So, Giles gave it more gas, beginning to feel the plane straining at its lines. The mechanic nodded his head with a smile and dived back into the prop wash, bracing himself on the pontoon struts. After a time, with his overalls flapping, the mechanic pulled back to examine his handiwork, and gave Giles the throat cutting chop signal. Giles revved up the RPMs higher and immediately cut the magneto and pulled all engine controls to off. The clanking of the rods decreased and finally the prop bounced to a stop. Giles jumped down, quite pleased with himself, but the mechanic was busy buttoning up the cowling, and no one was there to tell him how wonderful he was. Ah, me, thought Giles. True genius once again goes unrewarded. Giles waited as they towed the Swordfish on its dolly back down the slip into the bay. When the mechanic was free, Giles asked if they were going to take it up. The mechanic looked at his watch and said,Yes, as a matter of fact there is time, and if the new hose holds, we will be able to have this plane on the go list tomorrow.

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BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON

by Prof S Ofer

Draft TWO

Then he asked Giles if he wanted to pilot the Swordfish? Giles said no, but he would like to ride along if that were OK. Sure, the mechanic said. He wiped off his hands with gunk and went to the ramp phone. Coming back he said, All's clear. Lets go. Giles had seen that a flight coat and leather helmet with goggles were sitting in the middle cockpit, but he waited on the slip while the mechanic suited up and climbed aboard. Giles held the fire extinguisher while the mechanic turned up the Swordfish again, and after casting off the tie down line, giving a small shove to head the plane into the stream, he walked the pontoon and climbed aboard. With his helmet ear phones plugged in, the mechanic asked, All aboard? Giles, strapping in, responded, Yes Sir. Good to go. The mechanic spoke to the field tower, and got clearance to taxi out into the harbor and take off to the South South West, at 157 degrees, directly into the Sahara winds. They ran and ran down their 157 degree line and finally got enough speed to break the suction. Giles remarked to himself on the luxury of so long a 'runway'. No pulling up landing gear here. They climbed slowly taking a lazy curve out into the Mediterranean, away from the Straights. Looking off his starboard beam Giles could just make out Cueto, and maybe even Benzu, on the African shore. They made a wide circle of about ten miles and passed back over the runway at 4,500 feet. The mechanic told the tower they were starting their descent. They would circle around, pass down the runway again at 50 feet and bank sharply into the wind to start the final leg of their landing approach. Roger, the tower affirmed. After being in the air for a total of about an hour, they came whistling down the runway at 50 feet, passing right over the derrick pulling the Halifax from the water. They then banked sharply South again. The mechanic took the plane rapidly down to 3 feet above the water and then abruptly leveled off into a slow decline, flaps at full, nose up, throttle back. After almost two miles the pontoon rudders started dipping into the waves and then the suction step eased in, and surely enough, their landing was smooth as silk – or thumpy silk, because the sea was a bit choppy. Giles was wondering, with a mechanic this skilled at pontoon landings, how good the pilots must be. It took them another hour to get back and berthed to a mooring buoy. The mechanic stepped onto the pontoon, looked behind the cowling and said, Yep, good as gold. She can fly tomorrow. They were picked up in a skiff as the sun was passing below the Spanish hills to the West. Giles had now been permanently billeted in the NCO Nissan. As he headed there he was wondering if he could get by without a shower – saltwater was no fun. He was pondering this, wondering if he would see Lady again.

[Mid June 1938::Lady=15] Major Qormi had been returned to the same private rooms on Horseferry Road. The next morning she did not have to be guided to Thames House. She knew the way and enjoyed the walk. After a debriefing (just to get her accustomed to the ritual) and several conferences, she was given her new orders sending her to flight school at Kidlington Airfield in Oxfordshire. After six weeks in Kidlington flying Oxfords (which used the fields at Barford Saint John), Lady was considered to be more than sufficient in multi-engined planes. [Early August 1938] :: 15 Lady returned to London and was briefed (again) in field tactics and in a specialized trade craft. The planners in MI5 were not quite certain yet precisely how she might be deployed in a future air war – which was drawing nearer by the day. But they were immensely pleased with her prospects and congratulated Edward on his wisdom in acquiring her. Lady had no trouble in gaining her pay raise to 200 quid a month. Indeed, given her seemingly endless array of talents, they felt blessed to have her at a cheap price.

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BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON

by Prof S Ofer

Draft TWO

The planners did have a starting role in mind for their newly prized Major. They wanted her to return to Malta and set up a reliable group of informants. Her latest training had actually been in German trade craft, which indicated just how much they worried over that very important Island's infiltration by the German Abwehr. Her new role was to quickly train a group of Islanders in spotting German spies. Lady returned by commercial liner to Malta where she opened up her old home – having retained its rental during the period of her absence – and prepared her nest for the gathering of spotters. She realized that British Intelligence operated on the belief that war was immanent, while the politics of Appeasement held sway in public circles. So, she was under no doubts concerning the delicacy of her mission. By the end of that year her group of six operatives was well trained and eagerly plying their new spotting craft, and they had ear marked two potential agents who were placed under surveillance by professional teams from London. London's Double Cross program had been one of the few outstandingly successful operations MI5 had enjoyed of late, and this handling of German espionage types was right down their alley.

[Monday 06 January 1941] ::Lady=18 Hoping to spot Lady somewhere, Giles, with his new stripes sewn into place, decided to see if she were at the NAFFI. As he turned a corner starting up the hill to the shop, someone behind him called: Hey there Sandy. Even before turning around he was grinning. She had not called him that before but others had. She was headed off the base to her rented apartment when she crossed his path. How about some dinner in town, Giles asked? Sounded good to her, but she needed to go home and change. She said, Come along, Sandy. He would have followed her out into the Mediterranean. Her apartment was on a Mews off Main Street, just above the Cathedral. Giles waited in the small living room while Lady bathed in her bathroom, not from her tub but out of a tea pot of fresh water. Giles could not understand why she bathed at all. Even her sweaty flying togs were perfume to him. They found a pleasant taverna with a Spanish guitarist and were quite happy to eat tapas and drink Madeira. Giles could see the strain around her eyes and he was also very aware of the rather vague and preoccupied way she had been acting since they put down in Gibraltar. It was noticeably different from the quickness she displayed during the flight from Nutts Corner. He asked if anything were wrong. Snapping up immediately at the question and staring intently at him, Giles thought she was thinking over how to explain something to him. She was, in fact, looking into him to discern if he had a clue to the real source of her problems – MI5, her mother, and her spotter family. She failed to see any understanding of that in his open face, only his genuine concern for her well being. So, she spoke of a different small problem that was weighing upon her – it was one of many. She said during the Summer the Italians had bombed Malta, and now intelligence reported that the Luftwaffe were massing over 200 planes in Italy bound for Sicily. It was becoming quite clear how earnestly the Germans were going to try to throttle the extremely important base at Malta at the same time they were bombing London. Malta was the keystone at the center of travel, East and West, in the Mediterranean, in much the same way that Gibraltar controlled its front door. She told him that she was working there, along with family and friends, and she was greatly concerned over the prospects for her home Island. She had been trying to figure out ways of relief. Malta, like

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BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON

by Prof S Ofer

Draft TWO

Gibraltar, had to be supplied from without with everything it consumed. The Germans had the means to entirely blockade the sea routes with their submarines and now, with the massing of a large air force, they seemed about to cut off the Island's plane traffic as well. Have you noodled up any answers? Giles was wondering. No, not sufficiently, she replied. We need long ranged cargo planes right now, but nothing is available. Tomorrow I am sailing back to London to pick up a new Spitfire that has been equipped with a belly tank. I will be able to hop it from London to here and then to Malta. That will not relieve their supply problem, but it will at least give the Island some tiny bit of protection from the Italians and the Luftwaffe. It will mostly be to show that London is aware of Malta's plight. Clearly, it is only going to get worse. Giles was incredulous: The RAF has no planes on the Island? Well, not really. They have uncrated three old Gloster Gladiators. Lady's sudden laugh caught Giles off guard. She said: They have christened them, Faith, Hope and Charity. I love the irony, she giggled. Giles allowed that one Spitfire would not do much

Gloster Gladiator with enclosed cockpit

either. He asked if he could help in the ferrying effort? But Lady said she doubted it, since he was not checked out in Spitfires, or any fighter planes for that matter. The torque on a Spitfire would turn you upside down before you got off the runway, she told him. Giles answered glumly, I guess so. Lady was then sorry she had put him down so crudely, and put her hand on his arm. That did indeed take away the sting of her words. I have to be getting back, Lady told Giles. Disappointment showed on his face, like all his other emotions. Lady smiled sadly, saying, I have to take off at 0400 in the morning. I am being picked up by Ferry Command in a Hudson. Giles sighed and stood up. They said nothing on the walk back up Main Street. Standing on her stoop with the door only partly opened, not invitingly so, she turned back toward Giles. They were almost head to head at the moment. She stared at Giles. She asked if he wanted to spend the night there? Giles was totally surprised. He had not even considered it. And he said nothing for quite a spell. Lady was wondering what he was thinking. Finally, he said. No. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, and said, If I knew any prayers I should pray for you. Since I don't, I will wish you a safe journey. As the Spaniards say, Vaya con Dios. That is a nice prayer, Lady quietly told him. She said nothing more, so Giles turned and walked down the mews. Lady watched him until he rounded the corner and went on up Main Street. Giles was thinking: This night will probably be the last I see of this most beautiful woman in the World. Anyway, I have nothing to offer her – she who is rich with admirers. Had he not cared so much for her he would have gladly taken her up on spending the rest of the night there. But since he was so full of such a strong feelings for her, he realized it would greatly complicate her catching her flight in just a few hours; plus, for some reason, he had the very strong intuition that had he stayed with her, he really would not have seen her again. He could not have known it but Lady would probably have agreed. As it were, she was perplexed that he

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Draft TWO

did not take up her offer. While she was packing her traveling bags her thoughts kept slipping back to this curious curly haired boy with the not too pronounced brogue. No doubt about it: His refusal had piqued her interest. He was a sensitive lad, and she felt strongly that he liked women – indeed, liked her. So, she pondered it a bit. A few hours later Lady was picked up and driven to the North Front Airfield. Her Hudson was already warming up. The pilot said he had done his preflight, but Lady had learned to do her own as well – being a Major she could exercise that privilege without stepping on his Lockheed Hudson

toes. With her small flashlight somewhat

shielded to meet blackout standards, she checked for hydrolic leaks and loose inspection panels. She pulled up some cowling seeking out oil leaks (with the engines throttled down) and checked all control surfaces. Satisfied, she went into Flight Operations and read the flight plan and signed for the Second Pilot log. She also checked the weight of fuel for this flight to Drem, West of London, for she was interested in comparing it to her return in the Spitfire. She asked the pilot what was the Hudson's maximum range with this light load, knowing that it should be over 2,000 miles. He replied that the listed range was 1,960 miles but they could do well over that. Looking at their planned route out over the Atlantic to avoid Spanish, French and German interception, she asked its length in land miles. The pilot said 1,426 miles to Drem Airfield. She liked his precision. She took down the daily recognition information and read the intelligence reports affecting their route. After finishing Check Out, they boarded the Hudson and she strapped herself into the copilot seat. The tower blinked light signals without wireless contact to thwart the listening Spanish, giving the Hudson the go-ahead to take off into the sea breeze toward the East. Momentarily, the runway lights were lit and their Hudson easily took to the air. Dark as it was, the morning sky was lighter than the land masses and gave easy outline to the mountains on either side of the Strait as they turned back West and headed out over the Atlantic. A small navigator's table had been put in below the flight deck for the bombardier. The pilot gave Lady permission to plot their course by both taking shots off the North Star and trying to identify radar identification tags. Between the two they were able to triangulate a fairly accurate course. Since her pilot was doing a turn around, Lady took over the controls as soon as she had set the course. He quickly sacked out in the bombardier's nose. After 7.3 hours with a small headwind they identified themselves to Portsmouth Coastal Watch and received coded permission to enter the radar gap over Bognor Regis. It was early afternoon on a clear windy day in January when they landed. Lady put down on the generous landing strip in a lovely three point attitude and was instructed toward her hangar. Climbing down she took off her flying togs to show off her nice new ATA major's uniform so that it (not herself) might receive salutes from the crew. Most of them, however, did not bother to salute, being tied up in the necessary hangar work. She located her brand new Submarine Spitfire Mk1 with its even newer belly tank in the same hangar. Finding her ground crew, she asked when it would be ready to fly. The ground captain said they were buttoning it back up as they spoke and would give it a flight check to make certain that everything was ship shape. Good, she said. Tell me what to check off and I will take it up for you. The ground captain hesitated, I know mam, that you are a good pilot, but we need to do the check ourselves. OK, said Lady. How long will you take? I want to fly it soon as possible before I report to HQ. Before long Lady took a circle in her Spitfire and found that its trim was was less stable with the belly tank and a radar pod under the port wing.

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Supermarine Spitfire Mk 1

BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON

by Prof S Ofer

Draft TWO

The tank was empty now, but she suspected its flight characteristics would change when full. But these were not really problems; merely items she needed to address. She gave the plane back over the ground captain and thanked him for understanding. After all, no Spitfire had flown as far as she was going, and she knew it paid to be careful before taking to the air. As it turned out, she was delayed at the HQ on Saint James Street for several days and was not able to return as soon as she had hoped. Finally, she got free and filled the belly tank and took off to fly the gap over Bognor Regis. Her flight plan was very nearly the reverse of the Hudson's on coming up. Keeping careful account of the fuel she was pondering if she might fly all the way to Malta – on very lean settings and good trailing winds. But of course, that was not called for at the moment. [Monday 13 Jan 1941] Returning to North Front Airfield seven days after her departure she thought she might cross paths with Giles. He seemed to be the only person in her private life these days. But Giles was flying gunner on those long patrols looking for Gerry subs. She went to the NAFFI and bought as much tinned food as she was allowed, and then went to the stores in town. Gibraltar had a much better stock of food stuffs than did London. She had carefully checked out many places on the Spitfire where she might stow goodies for her beleaguered troops in Malta. Even the empty machine gun and ammunition trays were going to be pressed into service. Before she returned to the base, Lady went in to the Anglican Cathedral of the Holy Trinity. She did not know of any Greek Orthodox Churches, so she prayed to the Mother of God, the Theotokos, in that place. She had passed it so many times; now perhaps the most Holy Mother would hear her prayer – even from this pagan place. It is well for Lady to make the try, for it had been too long since she prayed so fervently as she had, that afternoon to Saint George. She timed her flight to leave at midnight in order to arrive at Malta just before sunup. Realizing that it might be awhile before she had another solid meal, she ordered ham steak with four eggs from the Officers Mess. No coffee now. That would come after a nap. The Watch Commander woke her at 2330 hours and she said to start warming up her Spitfire. After going through the normal routine, she took off at 0008 hours, headed due East. She had carefully calibrated her altimeter so she could fly at 50 feet above the waves in order to avoid the Luftwaffe's radar. She had no armament and could do nothing but run if they discovered her. It only took her 40 minutes to draw even with Almeria on her Spanish beam, whereat she swung North to a 75 degree bearing until she was even with El Jazair in Africa. After that she came back to an Easterly heading. Then came the difficult part. She had to navigate as nearly as possible to be on a line equidistant between Sardegna and Tunis and then, following that line, she had to find the point in the dark air which was equidistant from Cagliari (Sardegna) and Marsala (Sicily) and Tunis (North Africa). Precisely at these intersecting vectors she must turn to a heading of 135 degrees – in order to hit Malta in the dark. After 276 miles on that heading, she figured she should be there. It was not a mean bit of navigating. Happily, her radar worked, so she would be able to correct from Malta station identification, once she came into range. By that time, however, she would be out only 50 miles. In other words, she had a 100 mile diameter radar circle to hit. When Malta identification began to show up she had to make a correction of 8.5 degrees to hit the blacked out and beleaguered Island. Considering the amount of sea she had flown over, that was very good reckoning. But close was not good enough in these dark waters. She would have flown seven and one half miles to the Southwest of Malta had radar

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Draft TWO

not worked, and in the dark she might well not have seen it. She turned on her recognition lights, circled the area which was most likely to be Hal Far Airfield, West of the Southern Harbor which she could make out. She opened her canopy and signaled in that direction for them to light the runway. After three more circles, with the Eastern horizon getting lighter by the minute, half a dozen lights began to pinpoint the East-West runway. She could not see which end was windward (although they had put out a smoke pot, which could not be seen in the dark). Lady decided to try for an approach from the West, for that had been the way she started her darkened journey. Whether or not she guessed correctly, there was plenty of room to land. She was quickly ushered off the taxi strip into a camouflaged hangar as the lights were turned off. They told her the Italians or the Germans could come over at any time, attracted by her arrival. Lady was worn out. She drank a cup of really foul coffee and collected her goodies from the recesses of the Spitfire. After checking in with the Night Duty Officer and filling out the paper work and receiving her release for the Spitfire, she said: The pretty new Spitfire is all yours. I have my receipts and all I need is a ride to my apartment. She was welcomed at the apartment by four of her spotters, who eagerly accepted her Gibraltar goodies. After greetings, they showed her to her old room. As she began dozing off, she said the Jesus Prayer and thanked the Theotokos for seeing her home. Sleep was deep and good that night. Over the meager breakfast they were able to offer her the next morning, Lady saw that the tin of Scottish short breads she had brought with her was the outstanding item on the menu. It was good that she was seeing their problems first hand. The bombing had not been all that bad yet, but the blockade was really having its effect. She met the new recruit and started refresher classes for everyone. There had been another saboteur arrested and one more was under surveillance. They were doing wonderfully. Lady continued trade craft classes in the morning and went with them on field surveys in the afternoon. On the afternoon of the fifth day Lady found herself in Valletta, turning onto Merchant's Street. They were following a tip about a middle aged man asking strange questions in a slightly Italian accent. Lady felt quite confident in sending them on alone, as she turned into the small Greek Orthodox Church of Saint George. Stepping into the Narthex she was struck by a powerful emotion. It was so strong that it carried its own physical qualities, like a cool Spring breeze, noticeable in spite of the fact that it was Winter. Had she known better she might have bowed down on the floor on that very spot to savour the small theophany. Rather, she followed the routine of three years earlier, putting four tapers into the sand candle stand this time, and finally balling up on the floor below the icon of the Theotokos. She prayed and wept for hours it seemed. It was not so wonderful as the time before, because she was clearly understanding that her waywardness was greater than before, not less. She got the feeling that her lack of contrition was interfering with this rare attempt to present herself before God. She had learned many things, but her lessons were not pointing her toward that which is most important: Her ability to hear the soft quiet voice of her Lord, directing her path amongst the stumbling stones. What shall I do; what shall I do, was her tearfully repeated question. She was too disturbed to hear the answer. She wondered if she were so far off track that it would take a very strong whack over the noggin by the Theotokos to awaken her slumbering soul – even as the Theotokos had done with Saint Mary of Egypt. Probably, she was not far off the mark on that question, but Lady failed to follow up. Leaving the Church this time was so different from before. Then she was full of promise and

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Draft TWO

determination to bring her life into accordance with her Lord. Now, realizing how miserably she had missed that mark, she knew not what to do, and she was unable to hear the words which would assuage and correct those errors. Indeed, she was not able to confess exactly what it was that had been her undoing. Until she could focus upon her problem, she would be unable to address it. She sorely needed a father confessor. As she walked miserably back to her apartment, one lesson should have become crystal clear. Until she could focus her misery upon the failing which was dragging her down, she could not repent. But by herself, she did not seem inclined to make a sufficient resolution to restore herself to the earlier harmony she had enjoyed. Could she focus upon her failing, then, filled with remorse, she could enlist the help of Saint George, or the Mother of God, or God Himself, to strengthen her, to guide her. As it were, she had lost her ability to swim in those sacred waters, and it was not at all clear that she was really willing to give up anything of her new worldly aims to gain back that earlier buoyancy. As a result she simply left the Church in a state of misery, whereas three years earlier she had focused her misery on the problems themselves. The time before, she had repented of her error before God, and she had received the great relief of divine forgiveness. Now, not being sufficiently willing to seek forgiveness, she retained her misery. [13 Jan 1941]

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