A knock on the door revealed the figure of Leading Fireman Sparkes.
"Fire at Thorpe Morieux. Go and get Fireman Shinn."
Mounting my cycle and knocking up the man in question, I grabbed my uniform and turned out with the rest - 1 Leading Fireman, 3 Firemen, 1 Messenger.
We were overmanned for once. Arriving at the incident, we found a mop up job. The red engine's peace-time crew was about to hand over to the AFS.
"Sorry mate," he said, "this is not my doing,"
and proceeded to give a report of the incident to us.
Down the road, a short distance from the fire, was a U.S.A.A.F. base.
Returning from a daylight raid over France, some crews had completed the full amount of missions, and would be returned to the U.S.A. as veterans, home leave, medals and heroes' welcome.
The thought induced the crews concerned to celebrate.
This was done by firing all their inflammable missiles from the plane. One of these had landed on a clamp of mangolds. The thin straw top had took fire and one of the base fire engines took off to the scene to help out the Limeys.
The small amount of water required could have been supplied by the Glemsford Lad's Brigade after the veranda incident.
The base crew arrived at the farm yard. Their monster engine ran over several fowl and two ducks. They then applied, at full pressure, a jet of water to the small fire.
This, no doubt, was the correct procedure for an aircraft fire, but not for a small amount of straw covering a non-combustible heap of mangolds or swedes.
The entire fire went skywards and, following Newton's theory, descended on the stack yard.
They now had three fires to deal with. Oblivious to the cause of the problem, the U.S.A.A.F. crew employed the same method on the wet stacks.
Fires now five.
At this point the regular brigade arrived with timing that possibly saved the entire village of Thorpe Morieux.
This well turned out crew proceeded to tackle the fire and the huge American engine was dismissed, the crew still totally unaware of the damage done, and making bad-tempered comments about the "ungrateful Brits"!
The brigade extinguished the two stacks, the clamp and the lean-to building, failing to hold the last important straw stack. Hence the Glemsford crew's purpose.
"I have left you some support still to come,"
said the regular section leader, and departed.
We took over the muddy, wet, cold and stinking job.
Some two to three hours later, an AFS mobile canteen arrived, and coffee and wads were handed out in relays of two or three men.
Returning to the fire with Fireman Beevis, he asked me to get one legging.
"Tie the bottom up, boy, and don't shout about it,"
said Albie, disappearing towards the undamaged farm building.
He returned some time later to inform me he was going to get some coffee.
"Follow me in ten minutes, boy," he said.
On reaching the van, now blacked out, I was received inside.
Fireman Beevis sat on a small seat close to a smart lady firewoman, drinking coffee and rum. Another girl, not much older than myself, got me coffee and rum, some wads and sat down beside me on the other seat.
We spent the rest of the call out together:- rum, coffee, wads, warm and pleasant company, and left the scene about 4. 30 a.m., rehousing the equipment at the station, with Beevis showing a marked reluctance to leave. He indicated by signs for me to stay as well.
Firemen Osborne and Sparkes went home and I then learned the purpose behind his reluctance.
Three plump cockerels were produced by Beevis from one legging.
"Take one of these to your father, boy. He'll know how to handle it," said he.
I gave it to dad, just up, it being 5. 30 a.m..
He grinned and said:
"Beevis, boy."
How did he know?