If you didn’t know, me and my dad have a tradition to watch Dunkirk on Boxing Day. We’ve done this ever since I got him (and me as I watched it in the cinema 3 times!) the dvd for Christmas the year it came out.
I saw recently on the work website that we’re getting a Steelbook! And so I did some research into if, when it first came out there was a steelbook. Lo and behold there was! AND! It had Collins on the front!
It’s been a long time coming this one. But it was time.
Collins becomes a father and a bombing mission goes awry with disastrous consequences.
Trigger Warning: battle, war, mentions of the Holocaust
This was always the plan.
Fic Masterlist all previous chapters are posted here.
We’ll Meet Again 13: The Way You Look Tonight/The White Cliffs of Dover
Jack was in the air when your daughter was born, but you weren't alone, you were surrounded by Violet, Della and Mary, though your heart still ached for him, even through the pain. One day you would tell her that she was born in an Underground shelter on the last day of the Blitz. You had hoped that meant it was the beginning of the end for the war, but how terribly wrong you all were on that count. A telegram was dispatched to inform Collins that he was now a father, the letter that followed told him she had his hair and eyes and a set of very healthy lungs. You had discussed names in your letters and decided to name her Carys for your mother, she would have loved that, and it wasn’t until you held your own child in your arms that you realized how much you still missed her. It was a month before Jack could get a day’s leave and he admitted that he now owed a lot of boys a great many favors in order to pull it off.
Standing at the door of the boarding house you cradled Carys in your arms as you waited for him. A proper party had been planned in the garden to celebrate your little family and you were anxious for Collins to arrive and just as anxious to hide the fact that you were already heartbroken at the thought of him having to leave again.
'Y/N!' you heard a shout and whipped your head around to see Jack trotting down the street, a small rucksack thrown to the ground as he opened his arms.
Tears were in your eyes as you flew down the steps, running to throw an arm arm around him as he spun you around, laughing. His arm wrapped around your waist, his mouth on yours before you could say a word. You kissed him back, not caring if your lips bruised, feeling like a thirsty man at a desert oasis. The whole world ceased to exist for a moment as six months of missing him came down to this one moment and you poured every ounce of love and longing you had into kissing him. It was Carys who eventually decided to bring you both back to reality, letting you know, loudly, that she did not appreciate being squished between her parents.
Jack pulled away, blue eyes shining brightly as he looked down to see his daughter for the first time.
'She's so tiny,' he whispered, his finger brushing her brow.
'Daddy, meet Carys Margot Alex Collins.'
"Alex?' He whispered.
"For Farrier.’
Collins nodded and you saw him choke down a lump in his throat. You hoped there would be news about his friend, good or bad, it had to be better than not knowing. Blinking away tears
he let you place her in his arms, holding her as though she was made of the most delicate glass.
"Hello there, darlin, I'm yer da.'
You watched, your heart swelling as he smiled down at her, rocking his arms with as much love in his eyes as you had ever seen. Looking back up at you he reached out a hand to cradle your cheek, his smile so blinding it made you sigh. He was so beautiful.
'I'm sorry I wasnae here, I wanted tae be so badly."
"It's not like you had much of a choice, Jack, you wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked back to the boarding house. Everyone was gathered in the garden, just as they had been the first day he came to visit. There were new faces now, as well as the ghosts of those who had gone. Jacob and Mary greeted Jack as though he was their own son, a deep sadness in Jacob's eyes. There was no chance any of his family in Poland were still alive and it tore at him more than if he had lost them in a battle. They had been murdered, along with who knew how many others. Still, on such a day he rallied and mingled, keeping everyone entertained with funny stories you all knew weren't true.
Collins was never without a well-wisher and for just a few hours it was as though the war hadn’t even happened. There was even cake for the brave new father. Margot's photographer friend was there too, having kept in touch even after her death, and he made sure to take as many photos as he could. When questioned about it he simply shrugged and said, 'We should have as many reminders of those we love as we can. For when they are gone, they should be remembered.’ His picture-taking was encouraged after that and even he seemed content for a time, his subjects all happy and alive, unlike the ones he took photos of on a daily basis.
For his part, Jack had fallen head over heels with his child, never more than a foot away from either of you at any time. He looked on with wide-eyed wonder when you nursed her, and when she was unbundled for a nappy change he couldn't keep his hands off her, counting every finger and toe. When her fingers grabbed onto his thumb and she opened her eyes to look at him he
actually cried. Your strong, brave fighter was an absolute softie at heart and you knew Carys would have him wrapped around her little finger for life. You could already see them ganging up against you, knowing you would never be able to not give in.
Later that night as darkness fell, you placed the baby in her cradle, willing her to sleep for at least a few hours. You wanted time alone with your husband, who at that moment walked out of the bathroom in his skivvies and wrapped his arms around you. Looking down at Carys he squeezed you tightly.
Can ye believe we did this?’ there was wonder in his voice. "We
made a whole person together.’
‘And when all this is over we should make a couple more. Hopefully at least one of them will look like me. you chuckled.
"What? Ye dinnae want a litter o my carbon copies then? I feel almost hurt, lass.' he pouted before sneaking a peck at your lips.
"But I am glad tae have ye to meself fer a wee while. I missed ye."
For a moment you both stood there, your arms around his waist, head resting on his chest while he stroked your hair.
"I missed you too, Jack.' you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing in the smell of him.
‘Come.' he whispered, taking your hand and walking to the bed.
He placed your arms around his neck, leaning down to kiss you as though he had all the time in the world, his lips soft and warm on yours, his tongue teasing your mouth open. Even though you had cursed him and his whole sex while in labor, going so far as to swear you wouldn't let him touch you again, it took only seconds before you felt your desire for him break to the
surface. Heat gathered in your belly, your body coming alive for him as if no time had passed at all. You pressed yourself against him, moaning into his mouth as his hands ran the length of your back,grabbing your rear and tugging you closer.
"Wait.' he pulled away for a moment. 'Is it ok? I don't wan tae
hurt ye.’
"It's been a month, I'm all healed." Even if you hadn’t been you never would have stopped him.
"Alright then. You'll tell me if ye need me tae stop?'
You nodded your assent, fingers tangling in his head and pulling his face down so you could kiss him again. He smiled against your lips as he started undoing the buttons of your dress, making short work of it and your slip. Shivering in delight you helped him peel off his white singlet, running your palms down his chest, feeling him tense under your touch. Silently, you divested one another of your underclothes until you stood naked in front of one another. Collins
placed his hands on your waist, his eyes following their path up your sides to cup your breasts. He was gentle as he touched you, his thumbs grazing your nipples until they peaked, smiling sweetly as you trembled, goosebumps breaking out on your skin. His hands trailed down toward your belly and instinctively you tried to cover yourself. Still recovering from pregnancy you were self-conscious about the extra rolls and the marks that marred your skin.
"Don't.' he whispered softly, kneeling down in front of you and gently moving your hands to your sides. "You are beautiful, you know that right?’
He looked up at you earnestly, and you managed a nod.
‘Don't ever be ashamed of this,' he pressed his mouth to your belly, blowing warm air over your skin. ‘You brought a new life into the world, with this body, my child. That's an incredible feat and
you have never looked more stunning to be than you do right now.’
His words made you want to cry, but his mouth had other ideas, his tongue tracing the path of each stretch mark making you moan his name, dampness flooding between your legs. Sparks of electricity shot from where his lips brushed your skin, prickling through your limbs until they met at a point, throbbing and aching for him.
In a flash of movement he had you up in his arms, crawling onto the bed until your head met the pillows and his body covered yours. He kissed you senseless, your head spinning as his hand pushed on your thigh, opening you under him. Your back arched off bed as his fingers dragged through your wetness, circling around that tiny bundle with frustrating slowness, never quite touching you where you needed him to. Blood pulsed in your veins, rushing in your ears while he took his time, allowing you all the time you might need to be ready for him, which was too slow for you.
"Jack.’ you whined, rolling your hips toward him.
"Hold on love.' he crooned, his lips marking a heated path down your neck.
He slid a finger inside you, slowly, testing for any discomfort from you. His name slipped from your lips breathlessly, it wouldn't have mattered if there had been pain, you still would have wanted him. These moments you could steal away were precious, never knowing when the
the next one might be. Or even if there would be any more.
'I'm fine, I promise, I just want to be with you."
He caught your eyes, the same unspoken fear of the future reflected back at you, then acceptance, love and finally passion. Guiding himself to your entrance and pushing forward slightly, he never moved his eyes from yours, hands holding your head still as he kept searching and finding your love for him staring back at him. With a soft smile he moved again, slowly, but not stopping until he was seated inside you. Wrapping your arms around his back you encouraged him to move, pressing butterfly kisses up and down his neck, your body pulsating
and humming. With a groan, Jack moved, setting a leisurely pace that was loving, gentle, tender and sweet. You both took your time to simply enjoy one-another, to memorize every movement,
every sigh and every whispered endearment. Your pleasure grew slow and warm, spilling through you until you basked in it, blooming and opening until you gave over. He held you tightly as you shivered and trembled, swallowing your low moan with his mouth as you rippled around him. He followed a few moments later, lips against your ear as he whispered his love for you over and over. You held him close to you, and waited until you both stopped shaking, not knowing when the next time you could hold him again would be.
After a time Jack sighed, rolling over onto his back and tucking you in beside him. You lay silently for a time, listening to one another breathe, his fingers stroking your arm softly.
"Have ye given any thought tae going tae Scotland?'
'I have. I'm staying here unțil this is over. I'm not going somewhere where
we won't be able to see you.’
‘You would both be safer there, ye know.’
'I know, but what if this war drags on for years?"
He sighed again and you knew he was torn, while you wanted to grab hold
of any moment with him you could. It was selfish, you knew that.
"Promise me ye'll go if it gets bad again."
You nodded your assent, not wanting to think about all the terrible things that could happen, that had already happened. You talked into the wee hours of the morning, about everything except
the future. Instead you talked about books, music, how his parents farm ran, all happy things that helped you shut out the outside world for just a little longer. Carys woke up once, but fell back to sleep quickly after eating. You tried so hard not to fall asleep, there would be enough
time for that later, but sometime in the dark your eyes had grown heavy and with the soothing comfort of your husband beside you, you had surrendered.
Waking with a start you sat up in bed, the space beside you empty. For a moment your heart stopped, had Jack gone, had he slipped out in the night? No. He would never have done that, it would be too cruel to the both of you. A shadow passed by the window and you held your breath as you heard his voice singing so softly you almost couldn't hear it.
"Can ye no hush yer weepin'
A the wee lambs are sleepin'
Birdies are nestin', nestin' together
Dream Angus is hirplin ower the heather
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell
Hush ye my baby un' sleep without fear
Dream Angus has brought ye a dream my dear”
You didn't move a muscle as Jack’s shadow rocked back and forth gently, repeating the chorus of the lullaby until he finally laid Carys in her cradle and backed away. Turning to the bed he saw
your shadow in the pre-dawn light and climbed beside you holding you tight against his chest as you both laid back.
‘I didna wan tae wake ye, she just had a wee nightmare. My mam
used that lullaby tae sing me that tha' lullaby when I was a we’en. Always did the trick.’
‘It's beautiful.’ you murmured, looking to see the tiniest purple tinge to the sky through the window.
Dawn was coming, and with it Collins would leave again. Tears stung your eyes and you blinked them back, you wouldn't make him see you cry. He had enough to worry about, and you had to be strong so he didn’t go back to war worrying about you rather than himself.
The mood at breakfast was much more somber than the day before, everyone knew what it meant to go back, and though none of you spoke of it, the specter of death hung over you all.
By midmorning he was showered and back in uniform, ready to catch the train north, looking grim when he thought you weren't watching him.
This farewell was like all the rest, and not the only one happening around you. The station was full of young, uniformed men, weeping women and fathers trying to hold it together as their sons went off to war. You stood in each other's arms until the train arrived, Jack quietly singing in your ear as you swayed gently.
"We'll meet again, don't know where,
don't know when, but
I know we'll meet again some sunny day.'
He kissed you when it was time to board, his blue eyes shining as yours were with unshed tears.Uniformed men were leaning out of the windows, saying their farewells, kissing their sweethearts as they smiled and promised they would be home soon. Realistically you knew probably half of them would die far away from all those they loved. Finding a window Jack leaned out with a smile, reaching out his hand for you to grab, all the while telling you he loved you, that he would be back, not be afraid. You held on as long as you could as the train started to move, but soon it was too fast for you and he slipped out of your grasp. You ran after him as long as you could, until you could do more than wave until he rolled out of sight and was gone
July 20 1941
Collins.
Collins barely made mail call and it was with much relief that he managed to toss the letter into the bag before it was too late. He had taken his newest RAF photo a few days earlier and was anxious to send you a copy, he had grown a mustache and hoped that you would find it rather
dashing when you saw him, he certainly liked it and was determined to grow a beard as soon as all this was over. He could already see you laughing and playfully pushing him away as he tried to nuzzle your face with it, then he would do the same to his children, enjoying their playful squeals when he chased them. The other men teased him good-naturedly for his eagerness, all of them having had to run to catch the mail at some point. The sooner you got a letter out the sooner you got one back and they all lived for those loving words from home, often reading them aloud and passing pictures around. He had done it two weeks ago after you had sent him copies of photos taken at the party and all the boys had awed over little Carys, a few of them had even offered to take his pretty wife off his hands. This had led to some friendly wrestling for the photo and sheepish grins when their Commander had come out to yell at them for behaving like children. The whole thing was a basic ritual between them now, along with the gathering of those things for the family when someone didn't come back. Which was more often than any of them cared to admit.
It was a beautiful day, bright sun and a cool, soft breeze and the men were all lying about on the grass next to the airfield. His squadron was stood down for a day so they could rest before
going back out there on their bombing missions. Collins was at war with himself about what he did now. In the spitfires, the enemy was easy to identify, and engage. The German pilots had the exact same mission as he did. When he shot down an enemy pilot he knew what he had done and who he had killed, though it never sat easy with any of them, the killing of another human being, no matter the reason. They tried to justify it by remembering that the same human would just have soon killed them without any hesitation, it was enough to bring a form of acceptance. But now, they crept through the skies under the cover of darkness, dropping bombs on the ground and most of the time sneaking away undetected. But on the ground were civilians, some likely innocent and that sat harder with him. There was not a small amount of guilt for the suffering he helped to inflict, but he would always do his duty. For King and Country and
all that, though he knew he would carry the guilt for the rest of his life. It was one of the many costs of surviving the war.
A football was produced from somewhere and several hours were spent kicking it about, right beside all the planes taking off and landing, the bullet holes in many of them a solemn reminder of reality. It was an unspoken superstition among the men at Feltwell and possibly everywhere else, that they didn't speak of the future after the war, it was considered a jinx and all too often it
had proven to be just so. Farrier had told stories about his plans almost every night and look at what had happened to him. His family may never know what had happened to him and they certainly would never have a body to bury, most of the families wouldn't. Where you fell was
where you stayed and if they found your tags and gave you a wooden cross with your name on it you were lucky.
Trying to shake the depression he was feeling, Collins pulled your photos out of his pouch and gazed at them. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered how happy you had all been that
day, they had captured a moment of pure happiness frozen in time. A smile
spread across his face as he looked at his family, someone handed him a cigarette and he lay back in the grass, the sun hot on his bare arms as he remembered all your happy moments
together. The sound of laughter filled the air, the kind of raucous noises that could only come from the play of hot-blooded young men letting off steam. It could almost make him forget, at least until the next plane landed.
'Fall in!'' A voice boomed from near the hangar and every man on the field was instantly back in duty mode, lining up and standing at attention.
Their commander stood before them along with four men, all dressed in the uniform of the New Zealand RAF, all with bright, friendly smiles on their faces. Collins had a feeling he knew what this was about and judging from the grim faces on the others, so did they.
'Right lads, I’m looking for a volunteer to lend these Kiwis a hand tonight, their Flight Sergeant has the runs and they need a replacement for a run tonight, anyone want to offer their assistance?'
Dead silence, no-one ever actually wanted to go on a run. Collins looked at the four kiwis, all of whom looked younger than they had any right to be and saw the grim acceptance in their eyes. With or without a volunteer they would be in the air that night, with one they stood a better chance of surviving.
'I'll go!' Collins' hand was in the air before he even realized what he was doing. ‘Someone needs to show the colonists some real swagger. Aye lads?’
He stepped forward with a grin,trying to lighten the pall that had fallen over them all, the looks of relief on the Kiwi’s faces more than enough to convince him he'd done the right thing.
They all introduced themselves over tea, he would be flying with some great guys, and experienced at that, between them all they had almost 200 sorties done and dusted. In fact there had been more than one occasion when he and the Kiwi crew had been in the air on the same mission, flying alongside one another without ever knowing. The war may have been on many fronts but sometimes it shrunk down so small that it was uncanny.
The other men went back to their leisure time while Collins quietly got himself ready, photos in his pocket for luck and a shot of scotch for courage. The men of RNZAF Squadron 75 quartered on the other side of the base, and boy were they a rowdy lot. He smiled as he walked into the mess and the men started ribbing him about having a stiff upper lip. It was normal and he gave back by asking them if they all had pictures of their sheep. A few laughs and pats on the back later and he was one of the lads, although he was sure he understood their accents
about as much as they understood his..
As it started to get dark, Collins and his four crewmates silently dressed in their flight suits and parachute packs before joining the rest of the squadron on the runway. The ground crew were fueling the five Vickers Wellington bombers that would be flying the mission. There were no escorts, Bomber Command had deemed them non-feasible in the long term and the Wellingtons
were heavily armored and carried a considerable amount of fire power. But they weren't as maneuverable as fighter planes, which often led to problems when they were faced with them. Still, Collins thought, staring at the metal fortress towering above them, these missions were considerably safer than dog-fighting in Spitfires.
‘Time to go mate.’ The wireless operator slapped his back as he walked by, breaking Collins from his thoughts.
"Hey, I thought it was the Aussies that said "mate”’
'Nah, who do you think the thieving bastards stole it from?'
The Kiwi / Aussie rivalry rumors had apparently not been exaggerated. Collins laughed as he slid into his seat in the cockpit of the plane, buckling himself in tightly and immediately beginning
to check his instruments. The pilot, a lad of 19 took his own seat and set about doing his own checks. The others took their own positions and chatted happily as they prepared.
"Hey Collins, you got a sweetheart?"
"Aye, a wife and a wee bairn." he pulled a picture of the three of you out to show the others.
"That's a lovely family you have there, Collins,’ the front gunner showed you a picture of his sweetheart, a pretty blonde girl of about 20. 'Hattie's parents said I couldn't marry her until I got home, so we better move this war along fast, so someone else doesn’t have time to try and steal her away.”
"Right then lads, let's go show the Krauts a thing or two about superior races!”
Collins slid his photo into the instrument panel after kissing it for luck. The bombers powered up and taxied to the runway, taking off into the night in quick succession. For a moment there was silence as they gained their altitude and moved into formation.
“What’s the mission then?”
The Flight-Officer/Wireless Operator unfolded his bundle of papers and pointed to a spot on the map.
“Here.” he handed Collins the aerial photo of their target so the pilots knew what to aim for. “A munitions factory just outside Gelsenkirchen.”
“Where the fuck is that?’
“Near Belgium and the Netherlands, the biggest city close to both of those borders.”
“That’s Western Germany ain’t it?” The young pilot looked unnerved, and Collins couldn’t blame him.
“Sure is, but we are flying up and around to avoid the worst of the Front.”
Collins had flown into Germany many times, but never so close to the Front. From the sounds of things the other men had only done it a handful of times and none were happy about doing it again. Then again orders were orders and they were well trained to follow them without question.
“So then, the flight time should be about one and half hours and it’s hot as soon as we cross the Channel, so stay sharp boys and let’s get home in one piece.”
With that the Flight Officer took his place at the radio and silence settled on the small crew. They remained undetected as they flew over Belgium, their target was closer to the Netherlands but the Germans had control there, so a straight route was out of the question. It was amazing how quiet it was on the ground, at least until they flew closer to Germany and Collins could see the flashes in the dark, the fires and explosions. A prayer was whispered for the men down in the dark as the formation turned North North West toward the small town of Weseke, from where they would turn South toward their target. Intelligence had the area relatively clear of air traffic and at only 40 miles from the target it seemed they were well on course to complete the mission. They were only 20 minutes from dropping their bombs and getting the hell out of dodge.
There was a crackle through the radio and a voice came over sounding concerned.
“Be advised we think we spotted three Me.109’s, stay sharp lads.”
“Fuck.” Collins muttered under his breath, looking out the windows into the darkness.
There was barely enough moonlight to allow any of them to see any more than half a mile in any direction, meaning the Germans could be on them before they even had time to react.
“There!” He spotted a shape that seemed to be keeping pace with them. “One at 2 O’clock, about half a mile away!”
The gunner in the turret turned to aim, spotting the fighter where Collins said it would be. He was good, taking a mere second to open fire, the bullets streaking through the air, silver in the darkness. The German pilot easily dove out of the way before coming back into position. What the hell was he doing?
Collins didn’t like this at all.
“Anyone got eyes on the other two?” he asked into the headset.
“Confirmed, one Me. at 10 O’clock, half a mile out.” This from the other Wellington who was bringing up the rear of the formation.
They were being flanked and there was no sign of the third one anywhere. Their new 'companions' seemed in no rush to engage which had a shiver of unease running down Collins' spine. Looking over at the pilot he saw the same unease mirrored back at him.
Something was very wrong here.
“Heads up, they're moving.”
Collins watched as the fighter beside them banked away and out of sight, a voice on the radio confirming the same move from no. 2.
'This is it! Whatever their plan is it's happening now"
In almost perfect harmony, the five Wellingtons moved defensively, zig zagging across the sky in the hopes the Germans couldn't get a fix on them.
"Fuck me!" Where the hell are they?” he craned his neck to look out the window at all angles but there was nothing, except darkness.
"How are you as a gunner Collins?" the flight officer asked, poking his head into the cockpit.
"I'm a better pilot than gunner, Sir.”
"Actually, I'm good as a gunner, I have excellent aim." the young pilot spoke up.
“Collins, you have control, keep zig zagging” Gunner we need you in the rear in case those bastards come from behind.”
The bullets that hit the perspex in front of his face came out of nowhere and Collins felt his heart start to race from the unexpected shock.
'We're takin fire from the front!' He banked the Wellington as hard as he could, barely escaping the next barrage.
Like a monster rising out of the darkness, he saw the Me. coming straight ahead at him and he pushed the plane down, the bullets streaking overhead by centimeters, followed by lines of return fire, like shooting stars into the night. The Me. was gone before the bullets even got there. He heard the rear gunner firing and a loud curse.
"It's like he's a fucking ghost'' he yelled, searching for any sign of their enemy.
From the radio Collins could hear that the rest of the formation was under attack, men were shouting and the sound of gunfire was alive in the air. They were all well-trained men and if
anything they were going to make it bloody difficult for the Germans to get the better of them.
They were so busy trying to stave off the German fighters that everyone had forgotten one thing.
The third one.
The blast came out of nowhere and if Collins hadn't been strapped into his seat he would have hit the roof of the cockpit. The Wellington shuddered and groaned, the sound of metal buckling and crumpling screaming in the air. He could smell fuel, taste the heavy tang of metal in the air, and could hear the men crying out behind him.
“We’ve been hit!’ he barked into the radio, forcing himself to stay calm while the fear tried to overtake him.
They were still in the air. Chancing a look behind him he saw that the middle of the plane was caved in, trapping the young pilot in the back of the fuselage where he continued to fire relentlessly on the enemy. The Flight - Officer and Bomber were either unconscious or dead, their bodies trapped under crushed metal and framing. Sparks cracked in the air and at any moment one of them could ignite a fire, killing them all.
"Sir, he's coming again!' The gunner in the turret cried out, letting loose a barrage of bullets while Collins tried to bank the Wellington out of the way with no luck. The ability to maneuver was gone, none of the pedals or sticks would respond and it was pure dumb luck that they
were even still in the air. The plane was dead. For the first time he felt terror. They
were going to go down and there was nothing he could do about it.
“If you can bail out, do it!' he called out to the two men, even though he already knew there was no way out.
“No chance for me, I'm stuck in here!” The rear Gunner called
back.
“Same up here.” The front gunner responded. “Let’s at least try and take the Nazi bastard with us!”
Collins could hear the fear in their voices. He could feel it rising in his chest, catching his breath away from him. He was trapped as well, the only escape route now buckled into the middle of the fuselage. His eyes darted around with the speed and terror of a caged animal. Less than a minute had passed since they were first hit, and yet it seemed like hours. In what seemed like slow motion, Collins saw the Me. coming back at them and he called out to the others, bullets flying back and forth in the sky, the other bombers under attack and moving ahead. Banking
and turning sharply, the Me. flew overhead until it could come down behind them, like a lion coming in for the kill.
He heard the bullets, the scream of the pilot as they pierced the tail of the plane, managing to tear it off, along with half the rear gun compartment.
Immediately the Wellington began to whine, the nose falling forward toward the unseen ground. As the plane began its final dive, Collins looked at the photo in front of him. Suddenly he felt no fear, only a heart-aching heaviness in his chest. He could see every memory, every moment you had spent together flashing in his head. So many happy memories. He felt sad that he would never see his daughter grow up, or see your eyes light up again, but he was thankful for the time he'd been given.
The plane fell fast, spinning as it dove, trailing acrid smoke behind it. It took a minute and as it crashed into the ground, crumpling into almost nothing, Collins smiled as he slipped into unconsciousness. He was at peace.
Then the world went dark.
Author’s Notes
On July 20 1940 a Vickers Wellington bomber carrying five souls, was lost near the town of Weseke. They were on a mission to bomb oil and coal infrastructures near the city of Gelsenkirchen in Germany. All on board were killed.
Nothing is known as to how they were lost, only that they were there and then they were gone..
Other crews with them that night reported seeing Me. 109's “Messerschmitts” in the area, so it is
assumed that they were shot down. It would have taken no more than two minutes.
German Ace Pilot (he was not an Ace yet as this was his first confirmed kill), Siegfried Wandam
reported downing a Wellington bomber in the same vicinity on the same night. He was later killed coming in to land, badly damaged in 1943, having claimed 10 kills.
The crew of the Wellington consisted of four Kiwis and two Brits, the Kiwis part of the famous 75th Squadron, the first non- British to fight and suffer losses in the air. The 75th were known for their high success rate and tenacity, they flew the most missions of any squadron, dropped the second highest payload, and suffered the most losses of any other unit.
Bomber and Fighter Command did not believe that fighter escorts were necessary for night-time bombing raids, a belief that left the Wellingtons vulnerable as they only had the ability
to defend themselves from the front and back. In one mission in 1942, 20 Wellingtons were lost out of 33 Allied aircraft downed. A total of 73 men went down . Only 13 survived as P.O.W’s.
The crew of Wellington Mk. Ic R. 3165 AA-L were buried in a communal grave by persons unknown, a marker with their names erected. The only way to identify them was with their dog tags which were collected and returned to their families. At a later time the remains were transferred to be interred at Reichswald Forest War Cemetery in Germany.
7671 men are interred there.
Their names were:
Samuel Miles Mackenzie Watson Age 27
Edward Colin Joseph Cameron Age 19
Ronald John Alexander Anderson Age 26
John Lewis Owen Age 24
G. M. Cumming Age 27
H Wilson Age 21
Ronald Alexander John Anderson was my great-uncle.
From top left: Anderson, Reichswald Forest War Cemetery, Cameron.
Middle Left: Final resting place1, communal grave with marker, final resting place 2.
Bottom left: Watson, Wandam, Owen.
I could find no photos or information on Wilson or Cumming, who were the two Brits on the sortie.
Since I’ve been writing them a lot lately, here are my Farrier and Collins headcanons.
Farrier didn’t enlist for recognition, he enlisted to do the right thing. Collins also enlisted to help his country, but unlike Farrier, he’ll accept awards and shit.
Farrier doesn’t talk much. There’s no trauma or backstory reason, he’s just not very talkative.
Collins comes from a little bit more money than his fellow pilots, but that doesn’t change how he sees them.
Neither of them smoke, but they’re both drinkers. Collins has a lower tolerance and Farrier drinks less than his peers.
Collins flirts with Farrier, not the other way around. If they’re kissing, either one’s fair game to initiate (though most of the time, it’s Farrier).
When Farrier was captured by the Nazis, Collins nearly got discharged trying to get a rescue mission sanctioned.
Basically, Collins has zero chill when Farrier is concerned.
