Ghost Squadron: Wwii Teenage Pilot

By W. David Nelson

“Ghost Squadron” is a book about a pre-Teen growing to a teenage boy, Peter Walker who goes to live with his aunt, uncle and two cousins in Burghfield in the United Kingdom. Peter’s parents were killed in a German Luftwaffe bombing of his home town of Vauxhall, on the suburbs of London. Peter’s parents were killed in a German Luftwaffe bombing of his home town of Vauxhall, on the suburbs of London.

Twelve-year-old Peter becomes friends with a WWI pilot/ace, Roland Bauer, and learns how to fly British aircraft as well as German Luftwaffe aircraft. The goal is to attack a local airfield captured by the Luftwaffe in the town of Burghfield, 45 miles south-west of London.

The story tells of Peter’s experiences learning to fly aircraft and the intricacies of piloting aircraft to fly them and perform specific maneuvers used by British pilots from WWI. Maneuvers the German Luftwaffe of WWII have not been taught.

Peter soon finds out that much of the town and outlying areas of Burghfield are mostly part of a British Underground called the Resistance. He also discovers that there are some in Burghfield that are sympathetic to the German Third Reich. As well as the Nazi Germany movement in hopes of gaining favor with the German military and the German National Socialist regime in the possibility of Hitler’s victory over Europe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796046601

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

A New Friend

S EPTEMBER 1939 AT 11:00 a.m., Neville Chamberlain the British Prime Minister announced on the BBC Radio …consequently this nation is at war with Germany. England had entered the Second World War.

Because he had become an orphan due to the German Luftwaffe bombing his home town of Vauxhall, eleven-year-old Peter Walker, a rather rotund boy with black hair and dimples when he smiled, was sent to live with his Aunt Isabella and Uncle Charlie Morrison in Burghfield, outside of Reading in the UK. During the winter months, Peter attended the local school where he kept to himself much of the time due to the teasing from the other students about his weight and that he had to ride his Aunt’s bicycle to and from the school.

The winter days were cold and rainy and he longed for the warm spring and summer days when he could venture outside and explore the countryside. Many hours after his chores were completed, he would sit in the upstairs bedroom he shared with his two cousins and stair out the window wishing that his parents were still alive and longed for the days when he would go fishing with his father.

On the last day of school, Peter rode home, did his chores, and asked his aunt and uncle if he could go for a ride in the countryside. They both understood what he was going through and they gave him a lot of leeway as long as his chores were complete and he was home for suppertime. After everything was completed, off he went to see what the surrounding areas held for him to see.

Peter rode down a long, dirt road and saw a large pond. He looked around to see no one was watching him and rode through the tall grass up to the quiet body of clear water. He laid the bike down in the grass, found a rock to sit on, and remembered the days he and his father would go fishing at the river Thames. Day after day, he would ride to his special spot allowing his mind to wander back to his old home in Vauxhall, the sound of the river, the laughter of his father when a fish was caught, oftentimes was too small to take home.

One day when his mind was deep into his memories, he heard something behind him. He turned to see an elderly man standing there leaning on a pitchfork.

Looks like a boy deep in thought, the man said.

I’m sorry sir, Peter replied as he quickly jumped to his feet and lowered his gaze. I didn’t know this was your property.

Yes, yes, it is, the man replied. But I’ve been watching you for days now and I don’t see any malice in your being here.

I just, ah, Peter stammered. I just enjoy the quiet and the sounds of water.

I’m glad you do, but there seems to be more than just enjoyment of the water in your eyes, the man said as he stepped toward Peter.

What do you mean, sir? Peter looked shocked and felt a little scared.

It looks like you are off somewhere else. Someplace only you know about.

Peter looked down at his shoes. Just remembering is all, sir.

Ah, memories. Good ones I hope?

Well, memories of my father and I fishing is all, Peter still staring at his shoes.

The man sat down on the rock and patted it for Peter to sit next to him. Peter sat, nervous and a little scared. They both stared at the cool blue water in silence for what Peter thought was an eternity, not knowing if he should break the awkward silence or not.

You’re not from around here are you? the man commented.

No, sir, Peter replied.

There was another awkward silence and the older man spoke. Since this isn’t your home, I’m guessing you and your family fled the big city because of the war.

Well, not exactly. Peter replied, not sure if he wanted to tell this stranger his situation.

What does not exactly mean? Either you did or you didn’t.

Peter paused a long time and answered. I was sent here by the police of my home town to live with my aunt and uncle.

Oh, the man smiled. So, you’re a fugitive on the run then?

No sir! Peter replied as he looked up at the man who was smiling. It’s just that, ah, I don’t have parents any longer.

Ah, the kind man replied with a much softer voice. Your parents were killed in the bombings by the Germans?

Peter held back his tears. Yes sir.

The man turned and stared back at the water. Peter looked at him wondering what this stranger was thinking, and then he followed suit; staring at the cool, blue water. It seemed like a long time had passed as they just sat there watching the gentle breeze create ripples on the surface of the lake.

I take it you like to fish then.

I liked it with my father, yes.

The man turned, got up, and walked a few feet to where Peter first saw him. The man knelt down and picked up two old wooden fishing poles and a metal can.

Well, I can’t replace your father, but I can enjoy a little time fishing with a new friend. Peter smiled and looked at the fishing poles the man held. Here, this was my son’s pole, you can use it. The man handed him the wooden rod and laid down the metal can which held worms.

Since I said we are friends now, I would guess telling each other our names would be the proper thing, wouldn’t you? Peter smiled as he grabbed a worm and began to put it on the rusty hook.

I guess so, sir. My name is Peter, Peter Walker.

Well, Peter, Peter Walker, the man replied with a smile as he held out his hand to shake. My name is Roland Bauer.

How do you do Mr. Bauer? Peter replied as he shook the older man’s hand, which was rough and dirty from hard work. After an hour, Peter noticed how the time had passed by too quickly as they sat there in silence, then he remembered his promise to his aunt.

Mr. Bauer, I should be going now. My Aunt Isabella said I have to be home before suppertime, and thank you for fishing with me.

Ah, a growing boy can’t miss a meal. He smiled as he took the fishing pole from Peter. The next time you decide to just watch the water, come on over to my house, just over at the base of the hill for a cup of tea and we’ll go fishing again.

Peter was so excited as he jumped up and thanked Roland again for the time they had spent together and he agreed he would do just that. On the ride home, all he could think about was the time he spent with Roland and how much he enjoyed it and that he could hardly wait for the next day to arrive.

Upon arriving at home, his aunt Isabella was in the kitchen while his uncle still had not returned from work. His aunt asked how his ride in the country was and if he had seen anything of interest. Peter was a little reluctant to tell her but didn’t want to keep any secrets.

I rode down the old dirt road for quite a spell and saw a small lake. I stopped by to look at the water. Peter grabbed a dishtowel and began to help his aunt cleaning some dishes. It was the road with all the trees along the sides.

Oh, yes I know which one you are talking about, his aunt still washing the porcelain dishes as she handed them to Peter to dry. It is a very pleasant ride, quiet, clean, and well-kept by the old gentleman who lives out there. Peter was a little surprised that she knew of Roland. Did you meet the old man?

Yes, he was working in his field and came over and sat next to me. I mentioned that I used to go fishing with my father at the river and he handed me a fishing pole and we sat there for quite a while and fished.

Understanding what Peter had been through back in Vauxhall, she was glad Peter could find someone to spend time with since her husband was working most of the time, and had two sons of their own. They washed the dishes and put them in the cupboard in silence, his aunt Isabella noticing a slight smile on his face, something she had not seen on him in a long time.

Is he a nice person, she asked of Peter.

Oh yes, Peter replied excitedly. We sat there, fishing and talking about nothing really. Just, you know, talking.

I am so glad, his aunt replied as she took the water basin outside to dump the soapy water on the ground. It’s good you have found a new friend.

Thank you, Aunt Isabella, Peter replied as he folded the dishtowel.

The days past as Peter made his way to Roland’s home, a home filled with intrigue and the feeling of joy. On one of his trips Peter reached deep down deep inside to ask Roland what the large buildings were near the cottage by the lake.

Oh, those, Roland replied as he turned to take a long look in the direction of the wooden structures. Those hold my airplane. Peter’s face lit up with a large smile that showed his dimples more than Roland had ever seen. Do you like airplanes?

Oh yes, sir! Peter exclaimed. I’ve never seen one up close before, Peter added wide-eyed. But I’ve seen them flying over London and even over my home town of Vauxhall.

Well, would you like to see one up close?

Oh yes sir! Peter nearly yelled.

Roland led the way toward one of the buildings as Peter followed a step behind. The building seemed kept up very well and Peter thought to himself that the wood building must be very important to Mr. Bauer. As they neared the structure, it seemed to Peter that it actually grew larger in size, each board lovingly nailed closely to the next one. No paint was visible, but the wood seemed to weather the elements as if it had been there for decades. As they neared the structure, Peter noticed a lock on the door that seemed so large that it would hold back a herd of cattle. Roland reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a single skeleton key attached to a large ring that was as rusty as the old lock. Peter wondered if he kept the key ring with him wherever he went.

If you are wondering, Roland went on to say as he held the ring and looked at Peter. I was speculating when your curiosity was going to get the best of you, so today I felt it would, and I grabbed the key before you arrived.

With key in hand, Roland stuck the old, rusty item into the lock and turned it to the sound of a loud clicking as the lock released its treasure inside. Roland stopped, turned as he looked at Peter and sensed the anxiety in Peter’s face. Peter’s eyes were wide open and the smile on his face reminded Roland of his own son, years ago, before the plane crash that took his son’s life from him and later his wife: their son’s death, something she never quite got over.

With a hearty heave on the door, and loud squeaking sounds, the wooden behemoth slid to one side. The sunlight streamed into the dusty building revealing not one, but the two wings of an old plane. He then grabbed the other door and pulled it wide open to allow the full light of day to penetrate the large structure and reveal the most beautiful thing Peter thought he had ever seen, an old biplane.

The old plane had a blue body and yellow wings with a large circle on the side depicting the RAF, Royal Air Force symbol. The large engine protruded out the front of the plane with a wooden propeller, stained but shiny. On the tail of the aircraft were other RAF markings of blue, white, and red. To Peter, the body of the plane seemed boxy and long.

So, Roland asked. What do you think of her?

In shock, Peter paused before answering. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, he nearly whispered.

These planes are still being used today, mostly as trainers for new pilots.

Peter greatly admired the aircraft, taking in everything from the front to the back. Why aren’t they using the newer, faster planes to train?

Well, Roland began. Would a race car driver allow a beginner to drive his expensive auto before he knew how to drive? No, he would use an older model automobile to give the student the feeling of power in his hands. The sensation of the gas pedal, the steering wheel, the gauges and mostly the feeling of speed. Roland and Peter walked around to the seating area as Roland gently caressed the wing and fuselage. Seeing Peter’s reluctance to touching the airplane, Roland looked at him and smiled. Go ahead. Touch her, feel the cloth over the wings, the fuselage, and the tail.

What’s a fuselage? Peter asked.

It’s the body of the plane where the pilot sits.

As they made their way around the aircraft, Peter’s fingers felt every seam in the cloth, the raised paint of the RAF markings. He reached out, touched the propeller, and was in awe at how smooth the wood was. Each propeller is hand-made by an artist just for each plane as a suit is made specifically made for the man who would be wearing it. Roland went onto explain in detail on the makings of the wooden attachment. They begin with a block of birch, maple, oak, mahogany, or walnut. The artist makes hundreds of measurements and uses a chisel to carve the wood into a rough form of the propeller. From that point he uses many different tools to hone and refine the wood into the final form, a propeller.

Why is the body covered in cloth? Peter asked as he gently caressed the cloth. Why don’t they use metal like the planes today?

Well, back then when these planes ruled the air, metal would have been too heavy for those engines of that era. They would not have gotten off the ground.

What kind of plane is this? Peter asked.

This is a Bristol F.2 Fighter or a Brisfit as they had nicknamed it. It has a Rolls-Royce Falcon V12 engine, an engine with enough power for the plain, two men, ammunition and fuel. The Rolls-Royce engine creates 275 horse power. This plane can fly at 195 kilometers per hour or 123 miles per hour.

Peter stood in awe at the speed of the aircraft, 195 kilometers per hour seemed impossible. What about the planes the RAF are flying now?

Well, Roland began. The RAF is now using planes such as the Supermarine Spitfire. Don’t get me wrong a mighty fine aircraft. Its top speed is 574 kilometers per hour, or 357 miles per hour. But this girl here, he patted the cloth on the wing, they may be slower, but are more maneuverable than those of today are. This girl here can nearly turn on a shilling while the Spitfire has to turn in a much longer radius because of its speed and streamline design for speed."

Then why doesn’t the RAF use them any longer? Peter inquired.

They may be able to turn sharper, but the newer aircrafts are faster, stronger, can take a much harder beating and carry a lot more firepower than this girl is able to. They can also carry bombs underneath and have larger fuel tanks that allow them to fly more than twice the distance in less than half the time.

Peter tried to look into the cockpit of the plane when Roland said, Go ahead, climb up and look in, but make sure you only stand on this section. Roland pointed toward a solid black area on the wing next to the fuselage. If you step anywhere else, you’re going to fall right through, he added with a smile. And that would make for a really bad day for me.

Peter did as he was instructed and looked into the cockpit to see gauges, upon gauges, a handle that led to the engine, the stick, and two peddles on the floor. On the seat was a leather cap with goggles that he picked up and viewed more closely.

To Peter, this was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and took everything in he could, the sights, smells and the feel of the leather surrounding the cockpit for cushion and protection of the pilot.

Peter, Roland interrupted. Isn’t it about time you rode home for supper?

Shocked at how fast the time flew by, Peter acknowledged and stepped down from the wing when his eyes caught the sight of another regular sized door at the back of the hanger. As they exited the hanger, Roland pulled one of the doors closed as Peter did the same on the other side. The padlock was re-attached to the bracket and clicked shut, a sound Peter didn’t like. To him it meant the adventure was over. However, little did he know, the best was yet to come.

CHAPTER TWO

Flight Lessons Begin

T HAT NIGHT PETER was so excited about his being able to see and touch the aircraft that after supper he spent much of the evening outside staring up at the stars imagining what it would be like to fly and be free from the confines of the earth.

Is he okay? Aunt Isabella asked her husband.

I’m sure he is. Uncle Charlie added. I’ve noticed a big change in him these past few weeks. I think all the fresh air and riding the bicycle has been a huge help with him.

Yes, I suppose. Isabella replied as she sat in the living room. He’s been going over to old Mr. Bauer’s home after his chores are complete and he seems to be much happier.

Mr. Bauer you say? Isn’t he the one that lives out by the lake alone?

Yes, she added. I’ve met him a couple of times in town and he seems to be a very pleasant old man.

Isn’t he German? Charlie hesitantly added.

I think so, but he has been in England since he was a young boy and I heard he even flew with the RAF in the Great War, a term used by society thinking World War One would be the last war.

Charlie sat there and watched Peter sitting on the porch with what Charlie thought was a new glow about him. I just hope this Mr. Bauer isn’t filling his head with nonsense is all.

If Peter is happy, and he seems to be more engaged in his chores and with his cousins; I’m happy for him.

I guess you’re right, Charlie added as he took a sip of tea.

The next morning, Peter was up early and began his chores as well as helped his two cousins with theirs. He could hardly wait to get on the road to see Roland and the plane again.

As he rounded a bend in the road, Peter noticed the biplane had been moved out of the hanger and Roland was walking around it. The blue body of the plane and yellow wings with a large circle on the side depicting the RAF, Royal Air Force symbol seemed to be brighter than the day before.

Good morning Peter! Roland yelled as Peter sped up to get next to the aircraft sooner.

Good morning, sir! Peter yelled and waved as he dropped the bicycle on the ground next to the wing. Roland was walking around the aircraft, as if inspecting the plane.

What are you doing, sir? Peter asked as he walked up to the grey-haired man as Roland stood up from looking at the underside of the closest wing.

I’m doing a pre-flight inspection, Roland replied. Every time you take up an aircraft you want to make sure certain things are ready for flight, like possible water in the fuel tanks, the condition of the oil in the engine, things like that.

Why? Peter asked.

Well, if we are going flying, I want to make sure we arrive back on the ground in one piece, of course. He added with a large smile on his face.

We? We’re going to go up together? Peter asked excitedly.

Well, for one, you sure aren’t going up alone and a plane is meant to be in the air, not sitting in an old, dusty hanger.

Peter could barely hold his excitement. Where will you be going then?

Me? Roland replied. The last time I checked, there were two seats in this baby. Roland replied with a huge smile on his face as he watched Peter’s excitement rise.

Wow! Was all Peter could get out of his mouth as he watched Roland continue to walk around the aircraft inspecting it. Where will we be going?

Well, I need some fuel, Roland added. The closest airfield is about 15 minutes from here. I suppose we’ll go there. They also have a diner where we can get something to eat. Peter’s head hung forward and looked at the ground around his feet. What’s the matter, Peter?

Hesitant and embarrassed Peter replied, I don’t have any money.

Well, Roland added. I guess I’m glad I have enough for the two of us. Now come walk around with me and see what things need to be checked. Roland and Peter made the pre-flight checks on the plane as Peter’s excitement rose by the second.

Okay, Roland added. Do you think you could do that by yourself?

Yes sir! Peter replied as he re-traced the inspection checklist for Roland to see he had been paying attention.

Well, Roland added as he went to a cabinet along the wall. You’re going to need these. Roland handed Peter a leather fleece lined jacket, another item that looked like a lifejacket, leather cap, and goggles. Let’s see if you can fit into the official uniform of an RAF pilot. Peter smiled so wide he felt his face would break. Let me see, I was a Captain for the RAF that means you’ll be my student and you’ll have the rank of an Ensign. Roland reached into the drawer of the cabinet, pulled out the rank insignia of Ensign, and attached them to the uniform for Peter. Peter felt so very important when Roland attached the ranking and handed Peter the fleece-lined leather jacket.

Now that we have that taken care of, Roland added. When we return from our maiden flight, I’ll make sure your uniform is up to the RAF standards. Make you official. Roland grinned and said as he handed Peter the items he needed to wear while in flight.

The two of them climbed into the cockpits, Peter in the front seat and Roland in the back seat. Peter stared in awe as he sat in the seat, gently touching everything he felt was okay to touch. Now Peter, Roland began. Do not touch anything while we are starting the engine and as we fly into the heavens. Buckle up, Roland added. I wouldn’t want you to fall out at 1524 meters! (1524 meters equal 5000 feet.)

Peter acknowledged the order and buckled himself into the seat. Roland began to speak to the old biplane as if it was alive and could hear and understand. Hallo mein altes Mädchen! Es ist Zeit, einen weiteren jungen Piloten zu trainieren, also sei vorsichtig mit ihm. Er war noch nie in einem Flugzeug. (In English that meant: Hello my old girl! It’s time to train yet another young pilot, so be gentle with him. He has never been in a plane before.)

Peter could hear Roland flipping switches,