Corporal Andy Hill found that he had been allocated a single room in a new accommodation block. There were a number of these rooms so it was clear that there would be quite a few corporals on the unit. He quickly unpacked and then went for a walk to get to know the base. The buildings were a mixture of old wooden ones from the Second World War and new brick ones, these being the accommodation blocks. The Officers’ Mess, Sergeants’ Mess and Airmen’s Mess were all the old wooden buildings. The base administration block was a new brick building. While these were all behind a security fence, there was a second security fence leading onto the airfield and to the hangars and workshops. The kennels of the guard dogs were also behind this second fence. The base was not far from the sea, one of a number of bases set up along the coastline during the Second World War. RAF West Sanby was home to one of the first SAM squadrons deployed in the RAF. It was about three hundred yards from the perimeter fence to the sea wall that ran along a lot of the Lincolnshire coastline. About twenty miles to the north was the mouth of the River Humber and the port of Grimsby, the home of a large trawler fleet and a haven for trawlers wanting to land their catch or have repairs done to the vessel. North and south of the base was farming land, rich and fertile. On the landward side, one narrow road left the base and went straight west to the village of West Sanby about a mile away. It was the only road to the base. Andy took note of all of this as he walked around.
The location of the airfield control tower gave it uninterrupted views of the airfield and of the domestic site. There were few aircraft movements these days but the tower was very much in use. Movements on the base were monitored from here. A man with binoculars watched with interest the progress of Corporal Andy Hill around the domestic site.
***
The afternoon sun was slipping down toward the English coastline. A heavy swell was running under a sky dotted with cumulus clouds. It promised to be a pleasant night. The skipper of the Russian trawler told the helmsman to set a north-westerly course which would put them in line with the mouth of the Humber.
Captain Petrovsky watched the sun slipping toward the horizon, its rays slanting through clouds and setting up shades of light and shadow. Soon there would be lights twinkling from the shore and a glow in the sky from the Grimsby and Cleethorpes townships. Now in his fifties, Petrovsky remembered spending some shore leave in Grimsby during the war. Those were pleasant memories from when the English were Russia’s allies. Now it was different. He sighed and turned to look at the deck of his ship. Two of the crew were busy hosing down the deck and scrubbing it clean with a broom. Another appeared to be working on the cable drums. It all looked normal for a trawler. The first mate called, “Two aircraft coming in very fast.” Petrovsky was used to this. The RAF kept close tabs on all Russian vessels in or near its waters. Two fighters came in low from the north-west and screamed overhead. The recognition chart pinned up on the wall of the bridge showed them to be Hawker Hunters. The roar of their engines seemed to follow them as they went past low over the vessel and then peeled off and climbed seaward. He watched as they seemed to slowly turn and come round for another pass. No doubt this time the cameras would be rolling if they weren’t before. The noise had faded away but it wouldn’t be long before the roar of their engines would be heard again. The light of the setting sun glinted off the cockpit windows of the aircraft as they turned and then straightened up for a pass from seaward. He could see the air-to-surface missiles slung under their wings and knew they could also carry bombs in place of wing tanks. Petrovsky wondered how the ‘Hunter’ compared to the Mig-17, not that it was likely to be tested around here. The two fighters roared overhead and disappeared into the setting sun. To the east, darkness was rolling across the North Sea and would soon reach them. He told the first mate to ring down for half-speed and the trawler visibly slowed as the order was put into effect. The fighter pilots radioed in their report on the location and direction of the trawler. It was still in international waters but would soon enter the three-mile limit if it kept on its course.
A local fishing boat appeared in the half-light, its riding lights on. It was a small vessel, about eight metres in length and would most likely use drift nets. It was still about a kilometre away and moving slowly. The vessel was old but well maintained. It was of wooden construction and the paintwork was fresh and the vessel was scrubbed clean. Petrovsky told his first mate to call the political officer. Yarov wasn’t much of a seaman but he was a good Party man and was responsible for all the non-fishing activities they might engage in. Yarov appeared on the bridge and Petrovsky nodded toward the incoming fishing boat. It drew closer and appeared to be going to pass astern of them when a light flashed intermittently from its deck. Yarov grunted, unhooked a signal lamp from the bulkhead and went
