(Cross posted from my Substack, A Flood of Ideas - https://mflood.substack.com/p/target-for-tonight-a-drama-in-one)

Sources:

• Max Hastings, Bomber Command
• Frederick M. Sallagar, The Road to Total War (available online)
• “Target for Tonight,” 1941 RAF propaganda film (available online)

TARGET FOR TONIGHT A Drama in One-Act

(picture generated by VQGAN+CLIP)

By M. Flood

Setting: It is the night of August 25, 1941, just after 8 o'clock. We are in a Royal Air Force Bomber Command airfield somewhere in the southeast of England. This is the barracks room of Second Squadron of D Station, Bomber Group 22. The previous day the Luftwaffe dropped bombs on London for the first time, the first time a civilian area has been deliberately targeted during the conflict.

Characters: The crew of G Bomber, a twin-engine Vickers Wellington. These men have been flying together for a year. They are twenty-nine missions into a thirty-mission tour. If they survive tonight, they will be rotated off active duty to training section for a much needed rest.

Together they have been through lightning strikes, fogged in landings, anti-aircraft fire, and one memorable near miss with a cow that had wandered onto their runway. They trust and depend on one another totally. The stress is wearing them down, though, and each crew member is manifesting that strain in his own way.

• Captain Derek Lewis (Pilot, 24) - A calm and competent professional on the outside. In the air, he has total confidence in himself and his crew. On the ground, the last twenty-nine missions and countless near-misses have left him almost cripplingly superstitious.

• Sergeant Christopher Sims (Co-Pilot, 23) - A joker, also a great sportsman. When on the ground he drives his motorcycle too fast, has one too many drinks at the puband at mess dinners, and tries a pass at any pretty woman he meets – anything to have the risks be entirely in his own hands.

• Sergeant Perry Anderton (Navigator/Bombardier, 23) - Outwardly a gung-ho ladies man, Anderton is the team's backbone and cheerleader. He thinks he is the one keeping the crew sane and happy, but really their belief in him is keeping him together. No one is aware of it, least of all him, but he is the closest to cracking.

• Sergeant Andrew Nichols (Wireless Operator, 21) - Not superstitious, he has a mathematician’s grasp of probability and risk - it's what he was studying at Cambridge before volunteering. Rituals and superstitions cannot protect him from his fears.

• Group Commander Samuelson (mid-40s) – The commander of the Bomber Group, with overall authority and responsibility for the men and planes. Mature, responsible, he is the one who receives the missions from Bomber Command, and dispatches the crews.

Regional accents of the crew (Scottish, Yorkshire, etc.) and specific slang, are up to cast and director. Note that the rougher edges of their accents would be softened by public schooling – all were in university when they joined. The only requirement is that Group Commander Samuelson is distinctly of a higher class than the men, with a tonier accent.

(The Scene: Upstage, two military-issue camouflage green bunk beds side by side. There is a table in center stage, on which sit flight bags for the crew. Around the bags are items to be packed - canteens, medical kits, emergency rations, compasses, .38 revolvers, and ammunition. Four chairs surround the table, draped with heavy wool flight jackets – it’s cold at 15,000 feet in an unheated bomber.)

(LEWIS enters first, pulling a manila folder out of his jacket. We can see the folder is prominently stamped SECRET in red stencil. Looking both ways, he slips it under his pillow. He throws the jacket on the bed, kicks off his boots, then stretches out full length on the mattress. He is in his flight uniform.

SIMS enters next with ANDERTON and NICHOLS. All, like LEWIS, are in their active-duty uniforms. SIMS is talking to ANDERTON, NICHOLS is two paces behind. As NICHOLS and ANDERTON stop by LEWIS’ bunk, NICHOLS goes and sits stage left on a chair. He lays him palms flat on the table and visibly breaths deeply, trying to calm himself.)

SIMS … heard it on the wireless. Whole streets just devastated, hundreds dead, right in the heart of London. You know this means we're off to …

LEWIS (sitting up, cutting SIMS off) Don't you dare say it!

SIMS What?

LEWIS Don't say it!

ANDERTON Why ever not, Lewis? Wait (snaps fingers, smiling) because it’ll jinx us, right?

LEWIS (not the least bit embarrassed) Say the name out loud, and you just know we won't get it. Every other Group will be on that target, but CNC will still think that the Kiel dockyards need to get hit just one more time, then some flak gunner will get lucky, blow off the left wing, Sims and I will have to set us down in the Channel, and we'll all have a cold swim to Dover. Don't say it.

SIMS Well, whatever it is, I'm up for anything. Seventy-two hours leave and I'm bored stiff.

ANDERTON That's the spirit. Damn shame about Essex, though. We come in all ready for a night on the town and all the girls have to be home by midnight. Shift work!

SIMS (jocular) Well, we work nights, and they don’t.

(ANDERTON, SIMS, and LEWIS laugh.)

SIMS (to ANDERTON) Speaking of Essex, that’s the worst game of pool I’ve ever seen you play. You’d barely had anything to drink.

ANDERTON (a little annoyed, trying not to show it) Oh, lay off.

SIMS (to LEWIS) You should have seen it, he was aiming and the cue was skittering all over the table. He was even worse at darts.

ANDERTON (changing the subject) You're not holding out on us, are you Lewis? I saw you coming out of the Group Commander’s office just now. Did Old Whiskers let anything slip?

LEWIS (shaking his head) No. I wish he had. I'm as certain as the rest of you where we’re going after that mess in London. It's this waiting that's doing me in.

(NICHOLS is clenching his fists, rocking slightly, grinding his teeth. The others haven't noticed.)

SIMS It’s an escalation, that’s what it is.

LEWIS Well, they started it, we didn’t.

ANDERTON By the way, Lewis, I found you one (pulls four-leaf clover out of his pocket), a real four-leaf clover. Saw this great big field of them on the way back, made Sims pull over. You should have seen the skid he did in order to stop, he gave me hell about it.

SIMS It’s not easy to go from seventy miles an hour to zero on a dirt road. I thought you’d spotted a hole in the road or a cow crossing our path. You’re lucky I didn’t kill us both.

ANDERTON Anyway, it was picked by moonlight, so maybe it is extra lucky.

LEWIS (grateful, taking it and pocketing it) Thank you!

ANDERTON Lewis, do you really think all your superstitions are making a difference?

LEWIS I do. (together with SIMS and ANDERTON, he approaches the table and begins to pack his kit bag. Only NICHOLS refrains from packing) We're twenty-nine missions out of thirty and none of us with a scratch. No one else in the Group can say that.

ANDERTON (opening the chamber on his revolver to check that it's loaded, spinning the barrels, slapping it closed, and putting it in his bag) You and Sims here have steered us through some awful stuff. I'll not second guess you.

SIMS Not wise to question a pilot when you're at Angels Twelve

ANDERTON No, it is not. Anyway, who is ready to bomb the Alexanderplatz!

(NICHOLS stands up so fast his chair falls down, startling the others)

NICHOLS (shakily putting the chair upright) Sorry, I don't think I'm up for tonight.

LEWIS What's that, Nichols?

NICHOLS I said I'm not up for tonight.

ANDERTON (smirking) Nichols, I'm sure it's not against regulations for wireless operators to fly hungover. Jackson over in C Bomber is cut pretty much all the time, and no one complains.

LEWIS (jocular) Nichols, if you're hung over, you can take a nap once we’re at altitude (pause). It’ll help you beat the cold at least.

NICHOLS (anxious, adamant) I'm not hung over.

SIMS What is it, then?

NICHOLS (pausing, thinking of what to say) I am... I'm having a crisis of conscience.

ANDERTON (incredulous) Conscience? This late in the game? Nichols, have you got religion all of a sudden? If you have, the Group chaplain will set you straight. (Imitating the prim, proper RAF chaplain) As it says in Isaiah 30:46, ‘Yeah, hear what the lord proclaimeth: the Jerries doth started the war, men of England are bounden to finish it. Amen.’ (ceasing imitation) Or words to that effect.

(LEWIS and SIMS smirk at ANDERTON's impression. The humour doesn't register on NICHOLS)

NICHOLS (facing away from them, towards audience) It's more than that. I can't bear the thought of blowing people to bits anymore.

(ANDERTON walks around table to NICHOLS, grabs hold of his sleeve)

ANDERTON (turning NICHOLS face to face. NICHOLS looks away) Nichols, listen to me. You are the wireless operator … the wireless operator. You get us cleared for takeoff, let home base know when we've dropped the bombs, and - God forbid - call it in if we have to ditch. I, repeat, "I" drop the bombs. Lewis and Sims get us lined up, I spot the target through the sight, and click (mimes clicking his thumb on a trigger) and Sir Isaac’s gravitational pull takes over, bombs away. You were math and physics at Trinity, weren't you?

NICHOLS Yes.

ANDERTON (letting go of his sleeve, raising his arms in a shrug) Well then, it's cause and effect. You're on the plane, but you're not in the chain that links in Photographic Section, Marshall Harris, the Prime Minister, the girl who filled the bombs with Amatol, and everyone else down to the click (mimes the action again). You're off the hook. (lightly slaps NICHOLS on the shoulder)

LEWIS Nichols, did seeing your mum throw you?

NICHOLS (grateful for a change of topic, grasping at the excuse) She's not doing well without Dad. She's writing me every day, always so proud of me, but I go and see her and it's like she wants to eat me up with her eyes, like she'll never see me again. Made me go and get a new photo in uniform the time before last, even though she's still got the one from when I finished training.

ANDERTON Nichols, look at me.

(NICHOLS faces him)

ANDERTON Nichols … She will get a dog.

NICHOLS (upset, sitting down, still looking away from them) Oh, come off it.

ANDERTON (trying to be lighthearted) I am serious. When a woman of a certain age has nothing left – whether the husband has kicked the bucket or the kids just don’t come round for holidays - she gets a little dog. A little fluffy thing to get her out for walks and that she can feed treats to, something she can mother again. It's the course of nature: a man drinks, a woman gets a dog.

SIMS Nichols, we need you.

(NICHOLS does not respond)

SIMS Nichols, I mean it. All of us. We trained together, we've flown together, and we're going to see out this war together. That's got to mean something. You can scoff all you like at Lewis' superstitions, but I can't. I don't go in for four-leaf clovers and rabbits’ feet, but it's got to be something, all four of us in this. If you leave, that'll break our streak.

LEWIS You know that you can refuse any assignment you don't feel right about flying?

NICHOLS Yes.

LEWIS Okay, but don't lie to yourself about what it means. You refuse with anything except a heart attack or a death in the family, and Command will think you've gone soft. Then you're not going back home, or getting some job close to your mum. Command will stick you in Meteorology section up in the Orkneys, no leave, freezing your balls off for the rest of the war. And this war isn’t going to be over by Christmas.

(NICHOLS curls up in himself a little at the mention of the word ‘soft’, like it hurt him. Which it has – like biting down on a cold sore)

NICHOLS That's not true.

LEWIS Write to Chapman’s mum sometime; he was on C Bomber, refused three flights in a row. Command stripped him of his rank, medals, the whole bit. He's mess cook in Cairo, now. Got malaria bad last winter. No leave for him either. Where would your mum be then?

ANDERTON (stage whisper to SIMS) She'd get a dog.

(SIMS and ANDERTON snicker. LEWIS turns on them)

LEWIS Quiet! What Sims said is true, Nichols. We're a team, and we're keeping each other safe. Every time we take off, if we're all in our positions, I know we're going to be okay.

ANDERTON (just a little too gung-ho) Up into the wild blue yonder! Three sheets against the wind! Engines against the clouds! Off to rain hell on the Bosch, come what may!

(NICHOLS starts to hyperventilate, puts his head between his knees)

LEWIS Damn it! Anderton, get him some water!

(ANDERTON leaves the room. LEWIS crouches down next to NICHOLS and pats his back)

LEWIS Nichols, what is it. Are you sick?

NICHOLS (having a hard time getting it out) No. I'm ... I’m … God damn it, I'm scared.

(LEWIS and SIMS back away from him, as if he is contagious - which, in a way, he is. ANDERTON comes back into the room with a glass of water.)

NICHOLS (standing up, almost yelling now, this has been inside him for a long time) I’m scared alright, and I have been scared for a bloody long time. I know your rituals and fetishes helps you, Lewis, but they don’t help me. I can't laugh at danger like Anderton or get it out riding my motorbike at a hundred miles an hour like Sims. There is no such thing as streaks, no such thing as a number being 'due' to come up when you toss the dice, no such thing as luck. There's just cold, hard probability.

(ANDERTON left hand starts to tremble and he drops the glass, which spills on the floor. No one notices.)

LEWIS (deep breath, lets it out, thinks of what to say) We've all been frightened, Nichols. It's part of the job.

NICHOLS Not like this. I didn't even go home this last leave. I couldn't face my mum, couldn't face anyone. I just stayed in a B&B by the sea and tried to sleep. I couldn't. All I could do was keep calculating – five percent probability of loss per mission, thirty missions per tour, seventy-eight percent total chance of loss. And if we survive that, we go into training section for a few months, then come back and do the whole thing over again. If you get enough people together you’ll find someone who can flip heads ten times in a row. It’s not luck – it’s just ordered randomness. We’re not lucky! We’re not blessed! We’re a statistical fluke. And it’s not going to last.

(While NICHOLS talks, ANDERTON walks upstage. Brief spotlight on him, the rest of the stage dim, as we see him trying to control his right hand, the one that did the click, which is shaking uncontrollably. He settles for cramming it in his pocket. Spotlight stops and lights go back to normal)

ANDERTON (trying to bluster, failing) That's not true, Nichols. We're going to pull through this thing.

(NICHOLS just sits in silence. They all wait in uncomfortable silence for a beat.)

ANDERTON (exploding) You're a bloody coward, Nichols. I always suspected it.

LEWIS Now that's uncalled for! Nichols is having some nerves right now, that's all. Happens to the best of us. He'll pull through. I know he will.

NICHOLS I'm going to tell the Group Commander tonight. I can't get on that plane again.

ANDERTON Bloody coward …

LEWIS Lay off Anderton! (back to Nichols) If you go and tell the CO, Nichols, he's going to try to talk you out of it. It'll still go on your record, though, and you don't want that. They start having doubts about you they'll ship you off the Orkneys. I know exactly what he's going to say, and it's still the truth.

NICHOLS What will he say?

LEWIS (still believes this, but it's a weakening shield against fear) It's your duty, Nichols. You and I and all the rest of us. We volunteered. This is our war. It's dangerous but we are doing it to keep this island safe, to strike back against the Germans. The Army's a wreck after Dunkirk, the Navy's busy everywhere, Fighter Command is overextended. We are the ones carrying the war now, striking the enemy. Every bomb we drop is more blood drained from the Germans, a shortening of the war, .

NICHOLS (haltingly) I … hope that is true.

SIMS Of course it’s true. We’ve gotten visual confirmation on the target every time. And if you don’t take my word for it, the flak we’ve flown through should be proof enough.

LEWIS Command has the full picture. They get all the post-attack recon pictures, can judge the damage we’re doing. We’re not often being sent to hit the same targets, are we?

ANDERTON Next time we’re up in the air, Nichols, you come and take a gander through my scope after I’ve dropped. You’ll see the bright cherry red explosions welling up into the sky. We’re hitting things, every night.

NICHOLS (calming as he becomes more analytical, distracting himself, though still doubtful) I’ve been thinking about just that … Drop a two-hundred fifty pound bomb from ten thousand feet, travelling in … a straight line at three hundred miles per hour … Winds vary by altitude but average them as a single vector. Then consider the vibration of the plane from its engines, any dodging we’ve done around flak, any distortions in the bombsight. The plane also gets lighter as the bombs are dropping, and shakes. Each shake adds a bit more randomness to the bombs trajectory. Jesus Christ, the more I think about this the more impossible it seems to hit anything you meant to …

LEWIS Just a minute …

(LEWIS leaves NICHOLS, goes to his bunk, takes out the manila folder)

LEWIS Don’t tell anyone you saw this. I snuck this out of the Squadron Commander's office.

SIMS You didn't.

ANDERTON (reading the stamp on the envelope) “Secret” - oh bloody hell. All your rabbits feet, I figured you were the cautious one here. I’d put Sims up to pilfering a secret file before you.

SIMS Are you insane?

LEWIS Twenty-nine missions of dodging flak and night fighters, I figured I’ve gained the right to know just what damage we’ve been doing.

ANDERTON Anyway … what’s in it?

LEWIS I haven't look it all through yet, but it's from Photographic Section. Reconnaissance of the targets our Group has been hitting.

ANDERTON (grasping at this) Well good! Let's hear what damage we've done to Adolf and his goons.

LEWIS (pausing to read silently, then reading aloud) "This report... Compiled from imagery intelligence... Comprehensive study of Bomber Group Twenty-Two’s actions..." Oh, here it is. Conclusions. "It is the judgment of Photographic Section that the actions of Bomber Group Twenty-Two against the enemy since the start of the war have been … (he frowns, long pause, the others leaning in to hear) of minimal effect. Despite the large expenditure of personnel and airframes, and the dropping of thousands of pounds of ordinance, Group Twenty-Two has been unable to inflict meaningful damage to any objective. This finding is consistent with those of all other Bomber Groups surveyed to date.

(pause)

SIMS I think I'm going to be sick.

ANDERTON No, no, that is not possible. I saw the bomb bursts with my own eyes (grabs the file). Come on, where's Kiel dockyards (flipping pages, getting frantic). Come on, we dropped that one straight and true, right on the flares... Look, you can’t believe any of this. They messed this up.

NICHOLS What is?

(ANDERTON places the folder on the table. LEWIS, SIMS, and NICHOLS crowd him to look)

ANDERTON Those idiots in so-called Intelligence duplicated a photo. See, here's supposed to be three days before we went in, and here's the morning after."

LEWIS (looking, shaking his head) No, they're different. Same altitude and approach angle, but the shadows are different.

ANDERTON Then where the hell are the bomb craters? I mean, forty planes in the sorties, twelve shot down, seven ditch in the sea, everyone else drop their payload. That’s ninety-five thousand pounds of Amatol. Where are the craters?

NICHOLS (looking for a seconds, then pointing far away from where they were all looking) Right here.

LEWIS My God, they’re off by over three miles.

NICHOLS High variability and high bias.

ANDERTON But I saw this massive cloud of black and orange fire, we had to have hit something.

LEWIS Look there. Looks like one of fuel tank was hit, right on the edge there, by the forest.

ANDERTON Well … there’s that at least.

SIMS At least! Seventy-eight men died on that mission! Garvey in D Bomber had his head blown off by flak! Norris and his crew ditched in the sea and no one found them! Damn it!

(SIMS throws a chair, then sits on his bunk, head in his hands)

ANDERTON It is not possible … it is not possible.

LEWIS (to ANDERTON) This is your fault. Some bloody navigator you are.

ANDERTON We never practiced at night. Every time we dropped a bomb it was during the day. Navigation too.

NICHOLS Fair weather too, straight approaches, no evasive maneuvers, no flak.

SIM Oh my God, it’s been for nothing. For nothing.

ANDERTON (more and more quietly, shaking his head) No … no … no

LEWIS (lost) Right, well, the thing to do is … what we need to do is …

(ANDERTON slowly reaches into his bag and pulls out his revolver, without looking at it – his eyes are fixed somewhere off in a bleak distance. The gun dangles limply in his left hand. He walks out stage left. Everyone else is too lost in thought to notice.)

LEWIS (still at a loss) What we will do is … tonight we will …

(There is the sound of a gunshot off stage. LEWIS, NICHOLS, and SIMS looks at each, then notice that ANDERTON is not there.)

NICHOLS Oh Christ, Anderton!

(They all dash off stage left)

SIMS (offstage) Anderton … Oh Jesus, Anderton. He really …

LEWIS (offstage) Yes … he did.

(Lights out. When they come up again the men are sitting at the table, looking into space, their flight packs in front of them. Anderton's is missing.)

LEWIS That flight surgeon’s a good one. I told him Anderton had been having trouble with the firing pin, was getting frustrated with it, took it out back to try a few shots at the range before the briefing.

NICHOLS (a statement, not a question) Accident, then.

LEWIS Yes. That will be on his death certificate.

SIMS His parents will have that, at least.

LEWIS I thought he was the one holding us together when I guess we …

NICHOLS I never thought he’d be the one to snap like that.

LEWIS Our first loss … friendly fire …

SIMS What the hell is this all for?

(From stage left the GROUP COMMANDER enters.)

GROUP COMMANDER (touching the brim of his cap) Men.

(Startled out of their grief, the men stumble to their feet and return salutes.)

GROUP COMMANDER My condolences, gentlemen. It’s terrible to lose a fellow airman under any circumstances, especially by accident.

LEWIS Thank you, sir. Anderton was one of the best.

GROUP COMMANDER I knew. Popular with everyone, a solid man on the pitch and in the air. There will be a memorial for him tomorrow before we ship his body home to his family. Now you have just lost a valued comrade, and I speak for the whole chain of command when I say I would understand if none of you wished to fly tonight. No demerits, no marks on anyone’s record, just a stand down order for G Bomber. There will be more than enough planes in the air tonight.

LEWIS That’s very kind of you sir. We would like the time to gather up Anderton’s things to mail them to …

NICHOLS Sir, may we ask what is the target for tonight?

GROUP COMMANDER Yes. The target is the railyards and heavy industry of Berlin. Maximum effort, every Group available is assigned. If you wish to go, Ealing in First Squadron is keen and would be willing to fill in as bombardier for one mission.

(Pause of silence and contemplation)

LEWIS Weather, sir?

GROUP COMMANDER Meteorology says light clouds at fifteen thousand, third quarter moon, twelve-mile visibility. Strong easterly winds predicted over the target area. (Checks his watch) Briefing is in thirty minutes. Remember, no demerits if you’re not there. Good night, gentlemen.

(They all salute and the GROUP COMMANDER exits stage left)

LEWIS (thinking it over, trying to come around to ‘no’) Not a lot of clouds for cover to hide in.

SIMS (thinking the same way) And they must know we’re coming.

LEWIS Berlin’s just about maximum range on the Wellington too. Headwinds will cut into that, make us slower on the attack run.

SIMS There will be forests of flak guns. They’ll figure we’ll be coming in from the west given we’re at our max range, won’t be able to angle in from the north. Searchlights and night fighters, for sure. Even the lead plane will have trouble getting through.

NICHOLS (pulling on his coat and grabbing his kit bag) Let’s go.

LEWIS But …

SIMS You don’t really …

NICHOLS Think of the probabilities. Berlin’s over four-hundred square miles in area. If we make it to the target, we cannot possibly miss.

(SIMS and LEWIS look at one another, look at NICHOLS, who looks straight back at them, all resolution now. SIMS and LEWIS throw on their coats and grab their kit bags, then they all exit stage left, LEWIS in the lead.)

(The stage lights dim. We hear indistinct air traffic control chatter. Then the heavy bass sound of a Vickers Wellington bomber starting its engines, warming up, then beginning its take off run. By the sound, it seems to fly directly overhead then off into the distance fading, fading, and gone.)