( Behind Enemy lines & The McComas St. Wool Factory )

Behind Enemy Lines …

In which Wing Commander Dockerty Grimes runs for his life …..

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“Grimes, … come in and sit down.”

“Yessur! Thankyou, sir.” A click of the heels and a salute accompanied Wing Commander Dockerty Grimes reply.

“I need someone to fly a rather dangerous mission,” said Air Marshall Philpott, “ and I believe you are just the chap for the job. As you know, the Germans have invaded France and we want someone to take a look and see if they can spot where they are exactly. There are, of course still some airfields in allied hands where you’ll be able to refuel . We’ll give you the necessary charts.”

“I’ll be glad to help, sir,” said Dockerty.

“Yes, I knew I could count on you. It’s urgent, Grimes. When can you be ready to leave ?”

“Just as soon as my Spitfire is fuelled and warmed up.”

“Good chap !” Philpott rose and offered Dockerty Grimes his hand. “Take care,” he added.

“Yessur !” and, with a click of the heels and a salute, Dockerty Grimes prepared for this latest adventure.

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But first … a phone-call.

“Millie, is that you ? This is Dockerty. Look… I’m sorry about our date tonight but Philpott wants me to do a little job for him. No … nothing dangerous. Don’t you worry. I just have to pop across the channel for a day or so. I’ll ring you as soon as I get back. And whilst I’m in France I’ll see if I can pick up a bottle of your favourite perfume. What’s it called ? Savour of Life. Got it ! Love you. See you soon….”

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(A Battle of Britain Spitfire at the Imperial War Museum, London)

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Less than ten minutes later Dockerty saw the white cliffs of Dover disappear behind him. It would be dusk by the time he reached the first safe airfield … a good place to see if the French had Savour of Life in their store-rooms. Or on their black market….

Yes, they did … and he carefully stowed the precious bottle into the pocket of his flying jacket. Millie would be so pleased.

He also stayed the night in this place, taking off at first light the following morning.

Skimming across the tree-tops he noted a battalion of Germans in one city, a tank division moving toward another, and an airfield with three Messerschmitts still on the ground. What he didn’t expect was the anti-aircraft gun that blasted away at him and caused smoke to billow from his engine. After a few minutes it spluttered and stopped and Dockerty was forced to bring the Spitfire down as gently as he could in a grassy field.

He clambered quickly from the cockpit. Well he knew that in less than ten minutes a carload or two of Nazis, probably with dogs, would be arriving.

Before him was a clump of trees and bushes. On the other side a steep hill descending down to a rocky valley.

Back to the Spitfire, Dockerty ! No time to lose !

Sprinkle some Savour of Life in the cockpit. Then on a glove and drop it a few yards away. Then on some of the bushes. And then hurl that bottle, without the lid screwed on, into the valley.

Two patrol cars had arrived. A dozen German soldiers leapt out. Tracker dogs barked.

Dockerty climbed a tree ……

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The dogs sniffed the cockpit … then the glove … then led the Nazis through the wooded area to the hill top. One dog barked in Dockerty’s direction … less than twenty yards away … but majority ruled and the dogs led their masters down the steep incline.

One lone soldier had been left in charge of the vehicles. Dockerty crept up behind him and thumped him with a rock. He donned his jacket and his helmet. He set fire to the Spitfire, ( he was not leaving that for the Germans !) disabled the engine and radio of one car, found the keys still dangling in the other, and sped off back toward the airfield.

Luckily … or Providentially … a Messerschmitt was just warming up on the runway.

As the unsuspecting pilot approached, he greeted Dockerty with a ‘Heil Hitler’. Dockerty responded with a right to his jaw. He took the keys from the inert form , mounted the cockpit, and headed for home.

Messerschmitt 109

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“Well done, Grimes!” said Philpott. “Jolly good show. It’s a shame we lost one of our Spitfires but the plane you brought back had some pretty helpful charts in it. More than compensated, I’d say.”

“Thank-you sir.”

With a click of the heels and a salute he headed for the nearest telephone.

“Millie … is that you? Yes, I’m safe. But I’m sorry about the perfume you ordered ... I had to use it to put some dogs off the scent. It sure was a Life-Saver to me ……”

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The McComas Street Wool Factory

In which Dockerty Grimes takes a giant leap…..

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The McComas Street Wool Factory was a massive complex occupying a whole block. There was a constant progression of trucks throughout the day bringing recently sheared wool to the main gate … in McComas Street … to be washed and sorted and cleaned and dyed and all the other needful processes. Machinery clattered and whirred all over the ground floor.

When Dockerty Grimes, Private Investigator, was summoned by the Company President for an urgent visit, he had no idea as to what the reason might be … nor that it would nearly cost him his life !

“Grimes, sit down , sit down …”

Samuel McComas, grandson of the founder of this huge enterprise indicated a comfortable armchair. He, himself, continued to stroll around his second-floor office.

“There have been a number of incidents recently that reveal industrial espionage is at work, Mr. Grimes,” he said. “A fire in the store room just last week. An attempt to blow open the safe. Damage to some of our machinery.”

He inhaled deeply on his cigar, then went to the double windows and out onto the small balcony. Here he exhaled a giant puff of the foul-smelling smoke. He stood leaning against the railing.

“Mr. Grimes,” he continued, “I believe I can trust you to find the culprit. I want you to stay here overnight … you can stay in this office if you like; no-one will know you are here. I’ll see that there is a supply of food. And during the day, if you need a nap, there is a pretty comfortable couch you can bed down on.”

“You know,” he added, “my Grandfather built up this business. Look at it.”

Grimes joined him on the balcony. To the left and to the right the great brick building was a monument to his ancestor’s business acumen.

And over fifty feet below was McComas Street with its original cobblestone driveway.

He watched as a truck laden with wool drove up to the main gate below them. The gate keeper pulled back the sheet that covered the wool (to stop it blowing around) checked the contents, and then bade the driver enter.

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Dockerty Grimes felt the gun prod him in the ribs. He awoke with a start.

It was still daylight and he wasn’t sure how long his afternoon siesta had taken.

Hovering over him were two men. One of them spoke. “Well, Mr. Grimes, this is an unexpected surprise. So my Uncle Samuel hired you, of all people, to discover who is about to wreck his company. Oh, yes, I know you only too well. You shot my brother in Wilson Court a month ago and sent my father ‘up the river’ for a twenty year term. I’ve been waiting to catch up with you.”

Dockerty was wide awake now.

This was Pete Canning … a respected business man , at least so everybody thought. He was even Vice-president of the McComas Street Wool Factory. And the tough looking fellow beside him would turn out to be the foreman of one of the ground floor departments. He, too, brandished a gun in Dockerty’s direction.

“I’ve decided to kill you, Mr Grimes,” Pete Canning said softly. “With all that machinery noise downstairs nobody will notice anything. Say your prayers…”

Dockerty posed a quick question. “Why” he asked, “are you sabotaging this business ?”

“Because a rival firm has offered us more money and better jobs if we put this one out of business. It’s as simple as that. But finding you here … which we didn’t expect … is the icing on the cake. ”

Dockerty strolled toward the open windows.

“No way of escape there, Mr Grimes,” said Canning as his finger began to squeeze the trigger. “Fifty feet down to those cobblestones will probably break your neck.”

But then the unexpected happened.

Dockerty Grimes launched himself over the railing and plummeted down. He had noticed a truck at the gate … and he crashed into its tray filled with newly sheared wool.

By the time the two criminals had looked over the balcony, expecting to see the Private Investigator’s mangled body below, the truck had moved through the gate and inside the factory.

“Ring the police !” Dockerty screamed to the surprised workers.

He then grabbed an iron bar and raced up the stairs. He waited outside the President’s office. Whack !! Whack !! The two miscreants never knew what had hit them !

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“I want to thank-you, Grimes, for what you’ve done. Fine piece of work !” Samuel McComas puffed on his cigar. “And here’s a little reward for your services.” He handed Dockerty a cheque.

“I think,” said Dockerty, “some of this should go to the drver of that truck that just happened to be underneath the balcony at just the right time….”