Grandpa’s Great Escape

The children were enraptured. Miss Verity was busy scribbling up her precious facts facts facts on the blackboard – like how many aircraft on each side – in an array of multicoloured chalks. As soon as she had finished, she switched back to red chalk (for dates only) and opened her mouth as if she were about to speak. But before she could say a word, the entire class went, “SHUSH!”

Grandpa was on a roll now. All the children were eating out of his hand. “I pressed on my machine guns and the battle commenced. It was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. The sky was filled with bullets, smoke and fire.

Bang!

I hit my first Messerschmitt. The Luftwaffe pilot parachuted out.

Bang!

And another!

“Our mission that day was to take down the Junkers. They were the deadly ones. Each one of those bombers was carrying tonnes of explosives. If we didn’t stop them, their bombs would be raining down on the men, women and children of London. Up in the skies, the battle raged for what seemed like hours. The RAF must have shot down fifty enemy aircraft that day,” continued Grandpa. “Many of the other Luftwaffe planes were so badly damaged, they had to retreat back across the Channel quick smart. My squadron returned to base that day as heroes.”

All the children in the class burst into wild applause.

“HOORAY!”

11

A Legend

As the applause died down in the classroom, Grandpa began again. “But this was no time for celebration. We knew the enemy would be back, and soon. In even greater numbers than before. The Battle of Britain had well and truly begun. As for my squadron, I lost four brave pilots that day.”

The old man’s eyes glistened with tears.

The entire class sat in stunned silence. So this was what a history lesson could be!

The boy sitting next to Jack turned to him and whispered, “Your grandpa is a legend!”

“I know,” replied Jack and smiled.

“Well, thank you so much for your time, Mr Bunting,” said Miss Verity loudly, breaking the spell. “We are nearing the end of the lesson now. I have my red chalk poised at the ready. We need to note down all those facts, facts, facts! So please could you tell us all the year this happened?”

“The year?” replied Grandpa.

“Yes. I need to put it up on the board. If my pupils are to have any hope of passing their exam next term, we need to know facts, facts, facts! And yet more facts.”

The old man looked at the teacher, confused. “It’s this year.”

“What do you mean this year?” asked the teacher.

“This year, madam. 1940.”

The class chuckled uncertainly. Surely the old man was joking? Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Miss Verity gave everyone another of her famous death stares and they were silent once more. “You seriously think this is 1940?”

“Yes, of course it’s 1940! King George VI is on the throne. And Mr Churchill is the Prime Minister.”

“No no no, Mr Bunting. This is 1983!”

“It can’t be!”

“Yes yes yes. Queen Elizabeth II is on the throne. And the wonderful Mrs Thatcher is the Prime Minister.”

Grandpa did not look at all convinced. In fact, he stared at the teacher as if she was BONKERS! “Mrs?! A lady Prime Minister?! You must have a screw loose, madam!”

“I think it is you who has the screw loose, Mr Bunting! Well, thank you so much for your oh-so-informative visit,” said the teacher sarcastically. “Now, goodbye.” As if shooing a pigeon, Miss Verity ushered the old man out of his chair. Under her breath she muttered to the class, “No need to write down a thing the old man said, after all! He doesn’t know what year it is and he is still wearing his slippers!”

Poor Grandpa stood at the front of the class. He had been soaring in the sky; now he looked like he had crash-landed on the ground. Jack’s heart ached for him.

DRING!

The bell rang not a moment too soon. The boy had never been so relieved a lesson had ended.

Jack pushed past the other children to get to his grandfather as they all shambled out of the classroom. It had gone from being the best history class ever to the absolute worst.

Just as Jack reached Grandpa, Miss Verity called the boy back. “Jack? May I have a word, please?”

“A moment, sir,” said the boy to his grandpa, as he plodded over to his teacher.

“Promise me you will never bring your grandfather into my classroom again,” the lady hissed.

“I promise!” replied Jack angrily. “There’s no way I am bringing him back here.”

The boy spun around and reached out for Grandpa’s hand. His old skin felt almost like a child’s. Soft and silky.

“Come along, Wing Commander. Let’s return to base.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” muttered the old man. “Was the briefing not clear? Did I let you down?”

Seeing his grandfather like this, it was hard not to cry. But Jack was determined to be strong. “No, Wing Commander, you didn’t. You never have and you never will.”

12

Bunking Off

Bunking off school was not something Jack had ever done before. However, he knew he had to make sure Grandpa got all the way home. The old man was much more confused than usual. Miss Verity had completely taken the wind from beneath his wings and now Grandpa was looking a little wobbly.

And the last thing the boy wanted to do was call his parents. If they found out how disastrously Grandpa’s visit to the school had gone, chances were they would want to send him straight to Twilight Towers