Red Hawk Rising

airmen. Andy nodded to him as he went past and was interested in the response. The return nod seemed to be done with a critical assessment, as though he was sizing Andy up. It was not the relaxed response you would expect from a local. The game had finished, Andy’s replacement having won, and a new game started. Andy said he would sit it out. Jamie came back into the bar with a crate of bottles so Andy went up to the bar and asked for a couple of packets of potato crisps. While Jamie was getting them the newcomer went over and sat at a table near the airmen. Andy was curious. It would have been more likely for him to go and sit with the locals playing dominoes with the publican. He caught Jamie’s eye and nodded towards the newcomer. Jamie caught his meaning. Lance came up and ordered another round of drinks. “Guess what, Lance,” said Andy, “our barman’s a bit of a mountaineer. I thought I’d seen him before somewhere. It was at Loch Morlich in the Cairngorms.”

“Small world,” said Lance and then to Jamie, “I’m Lance. Nice to meet you, Jamie.”

“Likewise,” said Jamie as he put the drinks on the bar. Andy and Lance went back to their group. Andy was pleased that he had made it easier to be seen talking to Jamie and Jamie had understood what he was doing.

Berin was listening to the conversation between the group of airmen. He recognised two of them from that afternoon when he had been watching the airfield through binoculars so he knew that this group were part of the trials unit that was setting up at the air base. It was interesting that none of them spoke about their work but discussed sport and other matters. It was confirmation to Berin that they must be on that unit. He decided not to try speaking to any of them this evening but let them get used to seeing him as a local. With that thought he got up and ordered another drink, then went across to the group of locals and asked if any of them were interested in buying some fresh fish. He told them that he was a deck hand on one of the boats at Parfleet St Peter. The publican asked him who he was working for and Berin said, “Walmar on the Penny Jane. He doesn’t mind if I sell a few fish from my share.”

The publican said, “I know Walmar. Good man. Okay, I’ll work something out for you later.” Jamie had been listening in from his position behind the bar. He made a note to check the boat and Walmar out on the morrow.

***

It was 08.30 hours on the Tuesday morning (4th) and a small convoy of RAF vehicles were rolling past the guardroom and heading for the gate to the airfield. They were carrying the radar unit, a generator and towing a site caravan. There was also a Coles crane since the base didn’t have one with the necessary reach and lift. Sarge and his crew were waiting for them down at the site. They had organised a truck to carry all their tools and other necessary equipment from the hangar. Andy was there to get the details of all the equipment that arrived. He was also expecting the detachment from Coventry to arrive at about 14.00 hours. As it was a small team they were coming in a truck with all their tools and equipment. The launcher and missile were due to arrive on the Monday and the control unit the following day. Andy decided that it was going to be a busy ten days.

In Sleaford, an empty warehouse was undergoing some changes. A truck unloaded truck maintenance tools and equipment. A van delivered furniture and camp beds. A team of four men busied themselves setting the interior up like a temporary workshop. It was being done very efficiently. One of the warehouse offices was set up like a doctor’s consulting room and another as a temporary bedroom.

Parfleet St Peter looked like a picture postcard village to James Rogerson. He drove through the village and down to the harbour, not that it was much of a harbour, he thought. Jamie parked the van and walked around the harbour. The harbour was empty of fishing vessels so he had a walk around and noticed a shed with ‘N. Walmar’ above the door. There were other sheds with the names of other fishermen. An older man was sitting outside one shed repairing some crab pots. Jamie went up and asked when the boats were due back.

“About 10.30.” he was told, “on the high tide.” Jamie told the man he had to see Walmar about some fish. “He’ll be in with the other boats,” was the response. Jamie looked at his watch and saw he had an hour to wait. He decided to walk around the village and get a feel for the place. Near the harbour was a small cafe-cum-fishmongers. According to the signage, it was owned by the fishermen’s co-operative. Back from the harbour, the road crossed over the waterway that drained from the surrounding land. It could hardly be called a river. On the south side, near the bridge, were the local pub and a shop-cum-post office. Farther down was the local church and next to it the local primary school. To the north was a small garage-cum-service station and welding works. Beyond were houses and the sea wall. Jamie decided to go for a walk to the north and see what there was to see, deciding that it was best not to be asking too many questions while the fishing fleet was out. He walked up past the garage and headed out of the village onto the sea wall. To the seaward there was about a hundred yards of small grassy dunes leading on to a narrow beach