While Jack and Bill Dawber have had a relatively quiet time in the Army, their younger twin brothers Percy and Albert are facing a stiffer test. The relentless attacks of the Luftwaffe and the Kriegsmarine have been taking their toll. While Albert was ashore on a 72 hour pass, the Luftwaffe bombed Portsmouth harbour, rendering his corvette, HMS SUNFLOWER unseaworthy.
During a rare moment of leave, Percy and Albert finally get a chance catch up. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since they left Elsecar of a year ago. They agreed to meet in the Ship and Shovel, a modest pub located near Embankment station, in London’s West End. As they catch up on old times, Albert recounts a recent, mysterious encounter to his brother.
"Percy, you won't believe what happened to me the other day," Albert began, his voice low as he leaned across the table. The bustling noise of the pub provided a comforting blanket of privacy.
Percy raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer. "Go on then, what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"
Albert shot his brother a wry smile before his expression turned serious. "I met someone. A man named Commander Arthur Parish."
As Albert recounted the encounter, Percy's expression grew increasingly concerned. The tall, lean man with the cold eyes and the well-tailored suit. The way he approached Albert with purpose, knowing exactly who he was. The cryptic conversation about a job involving "operations behind enemy lines."
"He said it was dangerous work, but crucial," Albert explained, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. "The kind that could turn the tide of the war, he said."
Percy frowned, setting down his glass. "Albert, this sounds... risky. What do you really know about this Parish fellow?"
Albert shook his head. "Not much, that's the thing. But he knew about my assignment to SUNFLOWER. He even mentioned Lieutenant Commander Arnold Smith."
"That doesn't mean you can trust him," Percy warned. "In fact, it might mean the opposite. Information like that... it's sensitive. He could be a Gerry."
Albert swept his thick black hair and nodded, acknowledging his brother's point. "I know, I know. But Percy, what if this is my chance to really make a difference? To do something that matters?"
Percy studied his brother for a long moment, recognising the determination in his eyes. It was the same look Albert had worn when they'd first enlisted, eager to do their part for king and country.
"Just... be careful, alright?" Percy finally said, his voice softening. "I know you can handle yourself, but this war... it's changing things. Changing people. Whatever this Parish is offering, make sure you know what you're getting into."
Albert reached across the table, clasping his brother's shoulder. "I will, Percy. I promise. And hey, maybe this will all come to nothing. But if it doesn't... well, I'll need you watching my back, won't I? Anyway, what’s been happening with your mob? I hear the RAF have been giving Gerry a run for his money."
Percy wafted the thick cigarrette smoke away from their table. He looked out of the window into the narrow street outside the pub.
“Last week the Luftwaffee came with more than 500 bombers and fighters. The brass launched 12 fighter squadrons. 610 Squadron caught the brunt of it, that’s because they’re located at Biggin Hill. Our lot lifted off from Hornchurch. They chased a load of bombers away from Dover, but not before Gerry dropped his bombs.”
Percy paused, nodding to a lady at the bar. He took another drink of his bitter, and continued his story.
“264 Squadron are also based at Hornchurch, but they’re equipped with Boulton Paul Defiants. They’re not as good as the trusty Spitfire, but we need numbers. We are stretched. This air battle shows no signs of slowing down. I wonder how many aircraft Göring has got?”
Albert interupted him. “I know. Some days, I was on watch and the German bombers look like a swarm of bees flying about the sea. I’ve seen a few Hurricane’s shooting the buggers down.’
Percy put his hand up, and headed the short distance to the bar. He returned a couple of minutes later with two pints brimming with best bitter.
“Get that down you. It’s a bit more expensive up here than in the NAAFI bar, but it’s good to see you Albert. This war is terribe. I don’t envy Jack and Bill, serving in the infantry and tanks. I hear our Alan is working with some intelligence outfit. Fancy joining the Navy to spend all your time ashore. Looks like it’s up to the youngest members of the Dawber family to win this war.’
The brothers shared a smile, tinged with the weight of unspoken worries. As they clinked their glasses together, the sounds of the pub washed over them – a moment of normalcy in a world turned upside down by war. As Albert drank his pint, his meeting with Parish weighed heavily on his mind.