06 Malta Bombings

BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON by Prof S Ofer

Draft ONE

06 Malta Bombings & Lady's Hospitalization to [Mid May 42::19]

[April 1942] It had been almost a year since Lady had last seen Giles. She resented the very idea of him because he stood as an icon of condemnation – that even in her own mind it was rightful condemnation for having killed his child only made it seem worse. Of course, Giles offered no condemnation at all. He felt none. He was far more filled with an abiding misery over the loss of the most precious thing his life ever known, then he was concerned over judging her. But he knew that that person, the one he had loved and still loved so impossibly, no longer existed. He figured that she must have died with the death of his child. The day was a Monday. It was 13 April, and Lady was at the Saint James (HQ) address discussing the situation in Malta when word came through of the latest bombing. As of yesterday, the Luftwaffe had bombed so relentlessly for 19 days that over 11,000 structures were totally destroyed. The new estimate was that 1,800 tons of bombs had been used to level the Island. Lady turned white, her eyes grew huge. She had not realized it could be so awful. All eyes turned toward her in sympathy for the fate of her spotters cell. Actually, what was uppermost in her mind was the much greater fear that her father's book may have been destroyed. She said she must get to Malta immediately. Could the runway at Gibraltar take a B-24 yet? The answer was, Not a loaded plane. Loaded, the B-24 required a minimum of 1,500 yards for landing and takeoff, which she knew quite well. What she did not know was the condition of the latest extensions. North Field was indeed working on the 1,800 yard extension, but only 1,100 yards of it were operational. Actually, someone said, the Liberator could fly non-stop to Malta – if it were empty. But what's the point? Anyway, stocking the plane here in Britain would prove nearly impossible right now, so tapping the stores on Gibraltar was essential. Lady pleaded for a Hudson. One of the packet planes was scheduled for Alexandria at the end of the week. Perhaps they could get permission for a layover in Gibraltar long enough to take on supplies before flying to Hal Far. Someone asked, What sort of shape is Hal Far Airfield in? At last word all of Malta's airfields were out of commission. Lady said the grass field at the stadium would probably still be in tact. The Duty Officer radioed Malta to find out. By noon it came back that, Yes, the sports field was still clear. No craters. Probably the only portion of the Island left in tact. Alright, Lady said quite authoritatively (but no one questioned her presumption to authority), get me permission for the layover and assign the packet flight to me as far as Malta. The details were hashed out and in two days Lady was winging again toward the Rock. She was trying to remember: Had she been there since last year, when Giles walked out of her house -- and her life? She could not remember. [Saturday 18 April] She and her packet pilot, an Indian who was darker than Lady, landed without incident on the East-West air strip and got their permissions at North Airfield Operations. They went to pick up the ground transportation assigned for loading supplies from base stores. She and her copilot were walking, heads

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together, reading the lading list just as Giles came across the taxi strip in an American jeep not 20 yards behind Lady. Giles was given a predictable start. He could not mistake that perfect figure, so well proportioned that she looked twelve inches taller than her five feet. The Indian had his arm around Lady's shoulders as they huddled over the list, slowly walking and discussing the weights involved in their cargo. All the pain that Giles had felt a year ago, but which had gradually ebbed, came smashing in upon him. He could hardly see. He rode on slowly toward the Swordfish slips on the bay. He doubted now that he would ever be free of this misery. Lady and the Indian got the base stores to their plane and had the ground crew start loading it. They then drove into town so Lady could pick up special things for her agents. Especially, delightful tinned goodies, but also bananas and other fruits which were plentiful on the Rock. The two of them had dinner at the Spanish bar where she and Giles had listened to the guitarist. She painfully remembered so much of Giles as they walked these streets. After dinner they pulled their supply truck into the mews and spent a few hours at her apartment. Very early in the morning they headed back to the Airfield. Giles was still on patrol. Lady wanted to fly out about five hours before dawn, so they took off, with a loaded plane, at 0230hrs. Flying at wave top levels they hoped to avoid the German radar. She duplicated her previous bearings to Malta on the Spitfire night flight, and turned on the final Southeasterly leg exactly as planned. When they were within radar reach of Malta, she found that she needed a 15 degree correction. Hm, she thought. Not as close a before. But timing with the sun was better, and they could just spot the sports field. Their landing was uneventful, and as before, they were quickly hustled under a camouflage net. They turned the stores over to RAF Operations (or what was left of Operations) but carried their special gifts in a mule drawn two wheeled cart. Fuel was so precious on the Island now that no engines ran except auxiliary power units and ambulances. Even fire engines had no fuel. Before her cart got to her house, Lady had grown horribly fearful. The streets were still impassable. Paths had to be made through the less awful piles of rubble. As she worked closer, she could not contain herself. She dashed ahead and found one of her agents sitting in the dust on an old ice box, staring dully into the air. Lady ran on, but had great difficulty deciding which pile of destruction had been her house. Everything was destroyed. The only good thing was that this field of awful debris had not burned. Finally Lady recognized her chimney. Oh dear Mother of God, what has happened to her beautiful home, the place which never failed to recall the happy days with her mother and father. She could not even get inside the rubble. Part of the second floor still held up, and portions of the walls in that area. But everything else was devastation. Shear terror gripped her in a way like nothing she had had ever known. She was trapped in this world. She had no escape now. Her soul was laid waste, like the landscape spread before her. In shock, Lady made her way back to the mule wagon. Three or four people had come out of their holes to examine the wagon. With haunted eyes, they began listlessly picking around in Lady's stores, looking for something to eat. Many of the tins did them no good because they could not open them. Lady gave them the most precious thing in her cargo. She began passing out bottles of English tonic water. No more of her agents were in site, and even the little creature on the refrigerator had disappeared. It was so hopeless, Lady could stand it no longer. She started running back to the plane. She was truly in shock. Reaching the Hudson she sat on the ground against the wheel. When her Indian copilot appeared, he went about recovering their crucial jerry cans of petrol for the flight to Alexandria. The copilot asked Lady if she wanted to stay here or fly with him to Alexandria. Lady did not hear him. He asked again, but received no answer – not even recognition that

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he had spoken. Being now an intimate of Lady's he took charge. Checking out with the officer who served as Operations, he took Lady by the hand and led her to the copilot's seat. He strapped her in, warmed up the engines and taxied back to the leeward end of sports field. He took off into a stiff 10 knot breeze and set his bearings for Alexandria. After a week in Alexandria waiting for the packet plane to return, Lady looked as though she had survived the Malta bombings in person. Her eyes were dulled and sunken, she was too thin and even her actions were muted. There was little life left in her. When the Hudson was readied for the return to Malta and Gibraltar, Lady took two backpacks of tinned food and water with her. But she left the plane after they landed at the newly cleared Hal Far landing strip, telling the pilot not to wait for her. [Sunday 26 April 1942] She had no idea what she would do, except look for the Book. Some of the streets had been cleared (more or less) and getting around was a bit easier. The mule they had used on the last visit had been eaten. And still, she had difficulty locating her grizzly chimney, even sticking into the sky as it did. The site was worse than she remembered. Picking up a five foot long sturdy piece of small lumber, she began prying and leveraging, just trying to get into the rubble. Gradually, after four days of struggling, she began to put together a picture of how this horrible rubble represented her once beautiful home. Returning day after day from the shacks put together for Operations at the Airfield, Lady, all by herself, was making remarkable headway. She had cleared something of a walkway down the length of the place and felt as though she could pinpoint the area where her treasured book had been hidden. From time to time she wondered what had become of her nine agents, but she seldom saw anyone in the area where she was working. There were of course a few survivors who gathered regularly in various places. She heard of such a group which emerged daily to share food in the old Hamrun section, at the Western end of the Grand Harbor. But that did not interest Lady. By the beginning of May Lady had found where the supporting wall had been – the one to which she had anchored her sturdy cabinet. She could tell by clearing away enough debris from the floor where the bottom plate of that wall had been nailed. But she was at loss to figure out where the wall itself had gone. Gradually, she began to see a pattern due to one particular blast, the one which probably had taken out the wall she was seeking. She could see that those forces were aimed off at an angle which led beyond the exterior wall. Surely enough, there was the wall, covered by chunks of roofing tiles, laying in what had been a garden. She was pleased with herself, for she never would have looked in this spot had she not been urged on by discovering the blast pattern. In a couple of days Lady had cleared enough rubble from above and around her wall that she thought she might leverage it up high enough to see under it. Leveraging up the heavy wall with her pry bar six inches at a time, she was able to stack broken wall stones under it. Higher and higher she got it until she could crawl beneath it – a fool hardy thing to do, but for Lady, dieing under a collapsed wall did not matter. She wanted nothing in this life but her Book, her 'ticket' out of this place. Without it, she felt as though she were dead anyway. Aiming for the bottom of the wall which had once been the sole plate, she began crawling in the dimness, sticking more and more splinters into her gloveless hands, grinding into protruding nails and grating her body with metal lath and rough plaster. She paid little heed. Her eyes were fixed upon a smooth blond board sticking from more of this debris all about. Her flashlight revealed that this was indeed one piece of the long sought cabinet. But it was at the far end away from her leveraged position, and she despaired of reaching it this way.

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No matter. There was no other purpose in life for her. She pulled away the stone jacks she had worked so painfully to install, for it was clear to her that trying to leverage up the new corner would be very nearly impossible if she left the first one in place. So, she started over at the far end. Lady was under little delusion about finding the book. Chances of it being still in the cabinet were remote. But that was not so much the point as proving to herself that it was no longer lying there. If it were really and truly gone, and she could prove it by seeing the empty crushed cabinet, then that would be all she could do. Lady began jacking up the far corner on her fifteenth day of work. Her food was down to one tin, and it was left only because she ate almost nothing. But her water had run out and she needed to find a well on the Island. For the moment, however, her only need was to raise that far corner. And that she did. It was no worse a job than the first one, and before long she had the corner high enough that she might pull, haul and pry loose the blond boards. She got out enough to reconstruct the secret compartment and to scour the area around it -- to determine that no book was there. Actually, this cruel discovery had less impact upon her than anyone might have imagined. In fact, she was just a bit relieved at making so certain that the precious Book, indeed, was not to be had. She did not even cry. She simply lay back upon this fateful piece of wall and stared up at the hot sky. She was sweaty and filthy. Her eyes were circles dark and deep set. No one could tell that she was any different from any of the surviving bomb victims. Probably, she was thinking about nothing. Her mind was a blank. After a bit a straw hatted figure emerged into her view of the sky. Looking down upon her, the hatted head was surrounded by bright sky so that Lady could not make out the shadowed face. Major? the hatted head asked. Eventually, Yes? was the Major's very nearly inaudible reply. I thought this might be you! Spoke the hatted head. For some reason, Lady's spirits perked up just a bit. It was a bit manic. She was thinking, yes indeed. Ti's me. The one and only. But she said nothing. Finally, Lady became bored with waiting for the hatted head to state its business and she sat up. Then she recognized the small forlorn person she had seen on the ice box three weeks ago. Ah yes. How are you holding up, Emily? Fine! Emily almost stood and saluted, she was so pleased to see her Major come back to her. They chatted quietly, a bit aimlessly, as though they were meeting in a tea house before the War. Then Emily asked what the Major was doing? Was she going to reconstruct the Spotter's Cell? No, Emily, no yet. I was looking for a secret book I had hidden in the cabinet which was attached to this wall, before the bombing. Emily brightened up, and Lady was suddenly alerted. Oh, Emily asked. Was it about this size, covered in a maroon leather with a very bright object inside? Oh Oh Oh yes, Lady was stammering. Did you see it? She asked with such intensity that Emily was a bit shaken.

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Yes, I did see it, Emily said tremulously, wondering what sort of correction she might be in for. Grabbing Emily by the shoulders, lest she somehow sneak off before telling, Lady said, Please, Emily. Tell me what you saw. Almost inaudibly, the easily shaken Emily said that she and Barlow were taking shelter in the 'safe house' during several days of bombings, thinking that with each bomb their lives were over. But the house stood it all. Until the last day they had hidden under the stairs, but then they took to the crawl space under the floor during even worse raids. They were shouting in the dark to each other asking if that were the last one? Then the last one did indeed hit. They were both blown unconscious by the concussion. They only began reviving as the morning sun was rising. The trap door they had used to get to the crawl space was jammed from above, and they were a bit fearful of being able to get out. She knew that Barlow felt the same way, but they could not hear each other speak. They both had had a terrible ringing in the head, while small streams of blood had dried from their ears and nose. Crawling around in the underfloor space was not that difficult, because very little had intruded into that area. They began crawling around the perimeter foundation, where they could see air vents to the outside. Finally, one vent, an access door, was large enough through which to escape and they had little trouble prizing it open. They stood up outside, totally surrounded by the awful debris. We were standing right over there, Emily pointed. We were dazed and did not know what to do. Barlow sort of wandered over to this corner where you are sitting, and saw the book sticking from under the wall. Barlow was not really interested in the book, I could tell, Emily was saying. We were both so confused. I think he just picked it up because it was the one thing that did not look destroyed. We both sat down and just stared about us. The bombing had ended, but as far we could see, everything was totally destroyed. It is terrible, isn't it Major? We wished so much that you were here to help us. Emily began to quietly cry. Lady took Emily in her arms and held her. It was comforting for them both. Without prodding Emily eventually continued, We both looked down at the book Barlow was holding. He turned it right side up, dusted it a bit, and began slowly opening the cover. He turned two or three pages slowly and carefully. We saw strange, sort of Arabic, writing. Nothing made any sense to me. Then I could see Barlow feel the middle of the book, as he stuck his finger into an area where the pages were spaced apart. The book opened easily and there was a very strange glassy image of something. I swear, Major, it looked like it was moving. We were both astounded – well, I know I was. Then Barlow very carefully touched the image, I guess to see if it were wet, because it was shiny like it might be wet. After a pause of recollection, Emily said very very quietly: Then Barlow was gone. Her voice grew a bit stronger: His shoes, his clothes and Barlow himself. Nothing was left. He vanished right there, as I sat beside him. So, I know very well that it happened. No one believes me. With her old intensity, Lady looked into Emily's eyes. Emily, she said, What happened to the book? Emily was taken aback by the piercing gaze. She shook her head, afraid to speak. Lady relaxed and smiled. What happened to the book, Emily? she asked in an easier tone.

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I truly do not know, Major. Did it fall to the ground? Or did Barlow take it with him when he disappeared? Well, I most certainly did not see it fall to the ground, our I would have seen it. So, I suppose Barlow still has it – wherever he may be. Yes, I thought so, sighed Lady and she collapsed back upon the pile of destroyed building parts. The finality of it all was so terrible to bear. It moved in and possessed her soul. It replaced hope and sadness; it took the place of both longing and hating. There was, quite plainly, nothing more she could do. She was wrong about that,of course, but her believing that all avenues had been shut off to her, pretty well made it so. Strangely, this ultimate damnation also carried with it an ultimate release. She no longer felt the unshakable compulsion to push herself, her own interest, her own wishes in front of everyone and everything else. Perhaps, for the first time in her life, her own self had been moved aside. It was immediate. From that moment she witnessed a world apart from how it might affect her personal desires. This abnegation of self had an extremely powerful effect upon this, her new perspective of the world, the one “out there”. She looked down the length of her prone body and saw Emily as though for the first time. Come Emily, and sit here. Tell me what has been happening to you. Emily showed her surprise. She hesitated, but something in Lady's suddenly more benign demeanor gave her a bit of courage to object. So, she said, No, it would be better if we went to the Church and got something to eat. Everyone meets at the Church even though its roof is gone. They all bring whatever they have and sometimes they make a soup, sometimes a stew, sometimes several different dishes. But everyone gets a bit to eat. Alright, Emily. Let us go to the Church. Going in the general direction of destroyed Saint Luke's Hospital, they did not go far, but it was quite tedious. Emily knew the best route and that helped. They came upon a small Catholic Church which Lady had never seen before, but then there were many of those. It was a good place to meet because the roof had been blown off mostly clear of the walls, and she supposed some clearing had also helped on the interior. Several people were preparing food on makeshift tables. Two fair sized iron pots were suspended over very hot coals burning right on the Church's red and white tiled floor. But why not? There was plenty of kindling around for the taking. Lady noticed that no one was really smiling, but then, no one was frowning either. Emily took her to a man and woman who seemed to be making the cooking decisions and doing most of the work. The woman looked up at Lady and they peered rather intently at each other, saying nothing. The woman kept chopping vegetables as she said kindly, Please join us for supper. Then she repeated what Emily had said, about the pot luck nature of this gathering. Lady took off her back pack and pulled out a tin of boiled meat, offering it to the woman saying, This is all I have, but you are welcomed to it. Then the woman's face lit up. That's the spirit. She smiled broadly at Lady and handed the prized tin of meat to another woman to be chopped open and have its rare contents

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added to the soup. That will give a bit of flavor we have not had for months. Emily took Lady over to a friend and they chatted until it was time to serve the soup. First, however, a man called out, not loudly, but above the hum of the gathering, Please be quiet for a moment. We welcome a new comer who has contributed greatly to our fare tonight. The man looked over at Lady and said: Dear Sister, would you mind blessing this food which our Lord has given us? Lady was very nearly mortified at the prospect, but her new resignation took over and removed the self doubt which normally would have welled up at such an unexpected invitation. Instead, there immediately flooded into her memory an Orthodox blessing her father had used at meals. Crossing herself in the Orthodox manner, she said fairly quietly: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, amen. Oh Lord Jesus Christ, our help and refuge; Fountain of wisdom and tower of strength; Thou who knowest we can do nothing without thy help and guidance; Assist us to divine wisdom and power in these troubled times; And we pray for Thy blessing upon this food, that being put to our use, it may be consumed in Thy service; For we pray to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and forever and unto the Ages of Ages. Amen. Wow, she thought to herself: Where did that come from? Looking up, Lady saw that no one gave a second thought to her prayer, as they quickly headed for the soup line. Well, at least no one looked askance at her poor effort either. They all had pots and jars as they passed through the soup line, so Lady, having no utensil, waited for Emily. But the woman to whom she had spoken earlier brought to her the tin of meat given earlier, only now it was filled with soup. The woman said, be careful, the tin is hot. It was both hot and good. Lady did not know how long it had been since she had really eaten. [26 April

but realtime of the sea battle = mid August 1942]

Lady was very tired after her unusually difficult work that day, so she soon said good night to Emily and started on her way back to the shack at the Airfield, which had served her home and base of operations for the past two weeks. During the night, all hell broke loose in the far distance. Bombs and shells lit up the sky very nearly continuously, showing quite clearly the dark edge of the sea at its horizon. The din continued and was slowly drawing nearer. She and the duty officer stared in wonder. Tired as she was, there would be no sleeping with this onslaught taking place. The Duty Officer said it sounded for all the world like a convoy was trying to break through the German blockade. In another hour the ships had passed over the line of the horizon advancing slowly toward them, so the light from constant explosions was now silhouetting the ships themselves. The convoy was still strung out to the horizon as the front end warships came into site, firing at overhead planes and dropping depth charges upon submarines below. Lady was getting a small sense of what it must have been like during the bombings. Then several ships burst out of the gloom, racing for the protection of the boom nets and mine fields. To reach the sanctuary, however, they had to slow to a crawl to navigate the barriers. There the submarines started picking them off, and no doubt, trying to follow them in. Several of those ships were sunk before her eyes as Lady watched two freighters make it into the South Harbor. Others went around to the Grand Harbor entrance. After a bit, the local excitement seemed to die off, and the warships pulled back into the sea continuing

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their defensive onslaught. She was horrified. Was that all that got through? She could not count them, but imagined that such a large convoy must have started with many dozens of tankers and freighters. Oh that was terrible. So many good ships and brave men were perishing, trying to save these beleaguered folk on Malta. After the sun had come up, the Duty Officer told here that only four or five ships had made it into the safety of the harbor. One was a tanker, however, with fuel for the Island for their planes. Now they could at least attempt to defend themselves from the iron cross beasts. Lady was sick and exhausted. She asked if she might get a message to Alexandria to have the next packet plane pick her up. Two days later the DO said they had been greatly concerned for her safety in Alexandria and were glad to know where she was. In three more days a Hudson packet plane would land in Malta to take her back to London via Gibraltar. As she struggled to climb down from the Hudson, Lady could not understand why she was having such difficulties. One foot on the North Field tarmac, grasping the door and its jamb, her head was whirling. The world went black and she pitched forward in a faint. Waking, she realized she was in a hospital bed. She looked around a bit, then went to sleep. Thirty six hours later Lady awoke and could tell that it was dark outside. Her bed was partitioned by stretched linen on metal frames, one to each side of her bed. She could just barely see across the ward and that bed was empty. There were no sounds, not even the sounds of people breathing. She lay there dozing off and on. At once point she realized that her left arm was taped to a board. She strained to see it, and found that a tube was attached to that arm from a bottle hanging upside down from a metal tree. By turning her head from side to side she could see nothing else of significance. She did not even try to sit up. After a bit more dozing Lady could see a dim orange light was beginning to replace the dark outside that morning. She must be facing East. Then a door creaked open; then another. This last one was an inside door and then she could hear the first screened door slam. Muffled voices. Slow quiet steps were coming toward her, making her think of the convoy's slow advance during the last evening she could remember. A male voice was saying something, and a female was replying. Then, reading charts, the voices came around the edge of the linen partition. They stood speaking quietly at the end of the bed as Lady looked on, rather dispassionately. The nurse felt Lady looking at her and startled when she looked up: Oh, you are awake! Ah, the doctor said, and came to her side: How do you feel, Major? Lady thought, and said: I don't really know. How long have I been here? Am in London? If the doctor had had a sense of humor he might have chuckled. But he did not, so he said: This will be your fourth day as our guest, and no. You are in Gibraltar. Lady smiled, however, realizing that he was answering her questions in order. You are Major Jimpson, is that right? the serious doctor asked. Lady immediately started to respond: Of course not! But she managed to stop her tongue. She was having difficulty thinking clearly, but realized that Yes was her best answer. We have not located your husband to inform him of your hospitalization. But Airfield Operations knows of your presence and they have contacted your ATA unit in London. The doctor dispassionately relayed all

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this as he carried out his examination of Lady. Lady could tell that the nurse was much more sensitive to her situation. Finally, the doctor said: You are dehydrated and undernourished, but the fever you had is gone and your pulse is satisfactory. You need food, liquids and rest, and you should be back on your feet by the week's end. Then he left as dispassionately as he had arrived. Lady immediately turned to the Nurse who was smiling sympathetically at having to put up with Doctor 'Straightlace'. Lady asked why they were not able to locate Giles? We understand that he is not here that much – that is, not often in Gibraltar, said the nurse as she installed a new drip bottle on the tree. Lady thought for a moment. She asked: Is he not stationed with the 202, the Swordfish squadron, here at North Airfield? Hmm, the nurse was thinking. That is not the squadron we have for him. I am not sure. If you like, I will look it up and tell you. I will be right over there at my desk (nodding at the corner), and if you need anything, just ring this bell. Before long the liquids will be restoring your system and if you need to urinate, just let me know and I will help you. Thank you for your kindness, Lady said. And she asked: Am I the only one here? You are the only patient in the Officer's Wing. I will be right here if you need me.

Two days later Lady awoke to see Giles looking down upon her. He was not smiling, so her feelings of guilt caused her to think he was looking condemningly at her. Given her new sense of resignation, however, she then sighed and looked away, shutting her eyes. That is his problem. In truth, Giles' feelings were for her health. He was wondering how she had gotten in such bad shape – like she had been shipwrecked for a week, was the nurse's observation. What he said was: I was in Palestine when I got word that you were here in the hospital. I would have been here sooner. She was wondering, why Palestine? Then she caught sight of his flight lieutenant's stripes. Have you been moved? was her question. Sort of, he said. The 120th is experimenting with Liberators and sent one to Gib for me to try out. Now I fly between Gib and Palestine, where the maintainance squadron is stationed, doing the mail route. Nothing to it. But at least I'm flying again. You cannot imagine how cold it got in that gunner's cockpit on the Swordfish. Initially, I wanted to be a gunner, but I've had enough of that now. Might be different if we ever got to shoot it out, but all I ever shot at was diving submarines and the occasional Vichie patrol boat. Lady smiled, and for the moment she was feeling the old Giles at her side. Come around to this side so I can hold your hand, she said. Giles glanced at her left hand tied to the wooden paddle beside the medicine tree and walked around. He pulled up a chair and took her hand – his heart leaped at the familiar feel of it, but he also felt the dried blisters and near callouses. He turned her palm over and wondered even more about what she had been doing. But he only asked, How long will you be here? Not long, she said. But what are they experimenting with -- I mean, the 120th?

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Giles lowered his voice out of habit when discussing this sort of thing: Do you know about Torch? Lady had to think. It seemed so long ago that she had been maneuvering in London circles. Do mean the invasion? Yes, Giles answered. North Africa. We and the Americans are gearing up for that. Its the primary reason they rushed the program on the Liberators that you used to ferry. Now that the North Air Field is long enough – though only barely – Liberators are coming through constantly. Mostly they are Americans passing through to prepare for new bases after the invasion. They are massing in Alexandria. What I am doing is replacing the Hudsons on their old mail runs, but if needed, I can now fly all the way from Alexandria to London. Giles asked if she minded if he smoked a cigar? She said, I did not know you smoked? Only cigars, he answered. If you mind, I won't light up. No, go ahead. I may like it, though I have never smoked. Giles thought for a second then went over to the nurse's desk and asked if he might light up? The nurse said if the Major does not object then it was fine with her. Giles stepped out the door to light up because that is when the most smoke is created. He stood there a second, thinking about Lady, wondering about her. She seemed more foreign to him than ever. He was convinced more than ever that things could never be as they were between them. Sitting down beside Lady with the North African cigar in his mouth (being careful to direct the smoke away from her), she said: Oh, I like the smell of it. Giles smiled. Lady continued: But why go to all the trouble just to replace the Hudsons? You are right, Giles admitted. The 120th is testing the possibility of a large centralized maintainance organization capable of handling all the African operations right now, and then the future Mediterranean operations after the Germans are driven out of North Africa. That way they will remove the redundant maintainance sheds in every squadron. When a squadron advances, it is maintainance which takes longest to pack and unpack. Their theory is that once the push comes to take back Europe, the squadrons can move forward rapidly but maintainance only needs to move occasionally, but even then they can do it separately being always behind the lines. Lady asked if getting planes back to the maintainance area would be a problem? Probably more than they imagine, but the Air Marshals are thinking, if a plane can get back to its base, it can just as well make it to the maintainance area for repairs. That way, the active fields are not cluttered up with all those skeletons with their skin pulled off. Sometimes we have 50% of the squadron undressed and out of action. Lady thought, then asked, Will not the squadrons have to wait anyway for new air fields to be built? They could just as well bring up the maintainance people during the rebuilding, right? You would be right, if the Yanks were not supplying us with a new matting we lay down for temporary runways. The new way is that the engineers get in there, run a road grader over a vegetable patch and lay down the steel grating. Then a plane lands. Slick as a greased weasel. Lady laughed and squeezed Giles' hand. Oh, why did their life together have to change? But her mind quickly realized that it did not want to open that Pandora's Box. Instead she simply relished this moment

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BIOGRAPHY of GULLEY JIMPSON by Prof S Ofer

Draft ONE

of warmth with him, and asked him to tell her more of his daily life. Where did he live now? Was he going out with anyone? Did he have any love interests? No, only you, my Love, was Giles' gallant answer – though they both knew that was not true. Still, it warmed Lady to hear it. Actually, I live at both ends. I keep a locker with the 74th in Palestine and retain my bunk at Gib. So far I have not gone to London enough to warrant one there. How about you? Good question, Lady said. She did not know what she might do now – now that her Malta operation had been shut down. Finally Giles used that as an entry: Is that what you have been up to, the Malta assignment? Is that what landed you here? Yes, Lady answered, and fell silent. She did not feel like lying to Giles about it, but there was really not much that could be said. She was taxed more than she had realized by Giles' visit. She closed her eyes to think about what she might tell him. When she opened them, the sun was setting. Giles was gone. She wanted to cry. But no tears were there. She simply could no longer weep for her lost life. [Mid May 42] ::19

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[Operation Torch was launched : Nov 8 1942]

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