World's Apart

A Long Way From Home

It was the afternoon when the train pulled into Waterloo station. The wheels screeched to a halt and steam billowed across the platform as the train came to a halt. Jack rose from his seat and grabbed his large duffel bag from the overhead compartment. Following the crowd, he stepped onto the bustling platform. People were rushing to and from the train, he could barely make out his surroundings. The accent was strange here, harsh to the ears of those who had never heard it before.

"Biggin Hill RAF base!" The bellowing voice echoed across the platform.

Jack turned his head to the sound of the voice. The round bodied man was stood on top of an over turned crate. His eyes scanning the crowd for the young men lost after their train ride.

"Biggin Hill bus this way lads!"

Jack slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and pushed his way through the throngs of people. Once outside he saw the queue of khaki green metal buses waiting to pick up the waiting men. The gathering crowd was growing by the minute. Men, mostly young, were stood in clusters at the different buses. Jack headed towards the bus closest to him.

"Does it matter which bus we get on?" He asked to a man no more than twenty years old.

He shook his head "Nah, they're all going t'the same place," his thick northern accent was a surprise to Jack.

"Thanks," Jack smiled extending his hand towards the man "Jack Collins,"

The man took it firmly and shook it "Nice t'meet you Collins, names Wicks,"

Jacks face scrunched up in confusion at the man.

Wicks laughed lightly before picking up his own duffel bag "Name is Davey but it's all second names down here,"

Jack nodded once and followed Wicks onto the bus.

The journey from Waterloo station to the Biggin Hill Royal Airforce Base was slow and loud. The bus was filled with eager voices bellowing and laughing. The men, who had travelled from all corners of England, were busy sharing tales from back home and musing about the times ahead. Jack too found himself laughing with the other men. By the time the bus pulled into the base, Jack's cheeks ached from all the talking and laughing.

Biggin Hill was a large base. The brown stone buildings were dull and stood in perfect uniformed rows. The grass was mowed into neat stripes and the white chain link fences that lined the grass verges clinked in the light breeze. In the centre of the base a large building stood tall. The clock tower above it loomed over the base, the time reading two o'clock. A lone flag pole resided next to the building, the union jack swayed slowly about the pole. As the bus juttered to a halt Jack stared out of the window. Men in uniform marched in neat rows behind their officer, not a single one of them missed a beat.

"Hurry up lads, we don't have all day!" the voice echoed down the bus.

Jack hurried to join the rest of men waiting outside the bus. A queue had formed and a man in uniform with medals pinned to his chest was walking alongside with a clipboard in his hand.

"Name?" He questioned, standing in front of Jack.

"Collins, Jack Collins,"

"Collins, Jack," the man muttered, his eyes scanning the list in front of him "267 Squadron, that way," He nods to his left before moving onto the next man.

Jack scooped up his bag and walked towards a different group of men gathered at the far side of the square. The officer in charge was stood tall at the front, his hands crossed behind his back. Jack joined a small gathering of men who were stood quietly. A young man smiled tightly at him as he approached.