Fogbound Encounter 5


By Katzmarek


Kimi felt the wind tugging his hair and brushing his padded overalls. He began to shiver again as the 
watery sun radiated heat into his chilled body. Slowly he chanced to open his eyes.


At first the light dazzled him but after a while of squinting, to cut down the rays, he managed to open them 
completely.


He looked at the partly cloudy sky for an age before he began to make any sense of it. He then remembered 
details of how he came to be lying in the field.


He tried to move first one arm, then the other. They were stiff and they ached but they seemed to be 
undamaged. His leg was harder to move, but eventually he managed to lift one knee, then the other. Again, 
despite the aches and pains they appeared undamaged also.


The problem came when he attempted to roll over. A sharp pain gripped him in the side.
‘Ribs,’ he thought, ‘damn!’
He tried easing himself onto his elbows. Again the stabbing pain, but he persisted and eventually found 
himself propped up like he was watching a band play in the park in Danzig on a summers day.


His neck creaked as he turned his head to take in his surroundings. Tree line, field, herd of cows peacefully 
grazing and a stone fence with an old wooden gate.


It had stopped raining, he was glad to see, but the sky threatened more.


Kimi managed to roll on to his stomach. Holding his ribs as hard as he dared, he struggled, first to his 
knees, then onto his feet. His left side felt as though someone was continually jabbing him with a knife 
every time he moved. But at last he got his feet working and set out for the gate.


He stumbled along until the wooden boards of the gate stopped him, then propped himself against it while 
he pondered his next move.


He saw that the gate opened out onto another field that ended at another fence but this time, with a cottage 
behind it. Opening the latch he fell through into the next field, landing on his face. The smell of cattle dung 
assailed his nostrils and he realised he’d fallen into a pile of cowpats.


Wiping the smelly stuff off his face with his sleeve, with supreme effort, he got to his feet once more and 
headed in the direction of the cottage.


The pain in his side served to keep him alert, at least. Kimi noted a large bull about 100 metres away that 
stared suspiciously at him. He tried to keep his eyes on the cottage, believing the bull would be ok 
providing you didn’t fix him in the eye. He remembered someone once cautioning never to get between a 
bull and it’s harem, so Kimi stumbled as fast as he could, away from the previous field.


Eventually he reached the other side. The bull trotted over casually to observe him, he noted it had been 
polled.
‘At least he won’t gore me,’ he thought, ‘merely crush me between his head and the fence.’


He chanced to look at the bull and found it was coming nearer and picking up pace. He decided to throw 
himself over the fence, no matter how much it hurt.


He landed spread-eagled on the ground on the other side. He shook with the pain in his side.


‘Ere, what are you doing there, love?” came a woman’s voice.


 Kimi looked towards the voice and found a large, middle aged woman standing with arms akimbo.


“C’mon love, what are you doing there? Where did you come from?


“There,” Kimi croaked, pointing behind him.


“Are you alright? Are you injured? You haven’t been in the bull paddock? What in blazes do you think you 
were doing?”


The woman came over and stood over him.


“Come on, up you get?”


“Help!” Kimi croaked.


“My goodness, you’re a mess, C’mon up you get,” she said bending down and grabbing him by the 
shoulder. “Roger! Get your pa,” she called behind her, “we’ve got a visitor.”


Roger turned out to be a boy of about 15, his pa was a whiskered man in his 30’s, or 40’s. Kimi found it 
hard to tell. Together they assisted Kimi inside. The man spoke first.


“Broken rib I shouldn’t wonder. Hurt eh lad?” Kimi nodded.


“Now where have you been? Are you some sort of flier, dressed like that.” Again, Kimi nodded.


“Ah, I thought so. Probably from that aerodrome outside of Chelmsford. They’re always coming over here, 
bloody rowdy buggers,” he told his wife, “You’re lucky Algie didn’t have a piece of you lad.”


“Algie?” croaked Kimi.


“The bull lad, the bull. You’re lucky he didn’t throw you over the fence. Or did he?”


“No, I jumped.”


“Good for you! Margery, a cup of tea for the lad, he looks all in.”


The tea was piping hot, and sweet. Kimi reckoned there must have been about 5 teaspoons of sugar in it.


“Roger! You’d better go over to the camp at Clacton. Get them to bring a cart, this lad’s not marching 
anywhere. Now, lad, what do we call you?”


“Kimi,” Kimi croaked.


“What’s that? Timmy?”


“Kimi, K_i_m_i,” he spelt out his name for the man.


“Kimi, Kim, sound’s like a child’s name.”


“Oh dad,” said his wife, “leave the lad alone.”


“So! Where did you come down, lad?” the man asked.


“The field.”


“Did you say the field, lad? Didn’t hear a thing, did you Margery?” His wife shook her head.


“Last night.”


“Ah, must have been when we were over at the Evans’s, eh Margery? You been out there all night?” Kimi 
nodded.


“Well, he’d better have some of that stew, eh Margery? He wouldn’t have eaten. Fix him a plate, love?”


Kimi gratefully accepted the plate of beef stew. He was so exhausted that the thought he was not being 
completely honest with these generous farmers didn’t really occur to him.


The farmer’s wife, Margery returned from outside,


“I don’t see any aeroplanes out there. What field did you mean?” she asked Kimi.


“Must be over by the river, love,” her husband answered, “that right, lad? By the river, was it?”


“He couldn’t have walked that far, surely,” replied the woman, “must be close on 12 miles across those 
fields.”


“That so, lad? Did you walk all the way from the river?”


“’Ere,” said his wife, peering at Kimi’s sleeve, “I’ve never seen that badge before. I saw a lot of different 
insignia when our Albert joined up. But I’ve never seen one like that. What do the letters S.M.K.L.D. stand 
for? Do you know dad?”


“Leave off him, Margery. He can’t tell you those things, can you lad? Military secrets you know.”


“But it’s got a Maltese cross on it, dad, right there.”


“Maltese cross? Give us a look. Well I never… What do those letters stand for lad, tell the truth?”


“Seine Majestaets Kriegsmarine Luftschiffe Dienst,” answered Kimi. (His Majesty’s Navy Airship Service)


“And that crest, WII, Willy the second, your bloody Kaiser! Margery! Go to the village and fetch the 
Constable. Tell him we’ve captured a bloody Hun. Don’t you move lad… Here! Give me that plate back. 
I’m not feeding an enemy.”


“Oh he’s only a lad…”


“Go Margery!”


Eventually an elderly Police sergeant arrived on horseback. Red faced and puffing with exertion he 
staggered in to the cottage waving a revolver he clearly wasn’t used to.


“Stay there you,” he demanded, “none of your Hun tricks or I’ll shoot you.”


“Oh calm down Ted,” said the Farmer, “he’s not going anywhere. Busted his ribs, he has.”


“He’s probably a spy, landed by one of them U-boats.”


“Oh he is not,” replied the Farmer, “Kimi and I have been having a chat, haven’t we? He’s a mechanic, fell 
out of a Zeppelin that came over in the storm last night. Hey, he speaks English better than you Ted.”


“A mechanic?”


“Yes. While he’s here he can look at that plough of mine. What about that motorbicycle you have at the 
station? He could get that going to, couldn’t you?”


“Sure,” shrugged Kimi.


“See? A good mechanic’s worth their weight, ain’t they?” He told the astonished Sergeant.


It was getting on towards the middle of September and unknown to the inhabitants of His Majesty’s Prison 
Camp at Galston, near Kilmarnock, Strathclyde, Scotland, the war had a little more than three weeks to run. 
Already the German General Staff had made overtures to the Allies via Switzerland.


Kimi finally received his little parcel from his Grandmother in Danzig. It contained some shaving gear, 
letters, writing materials and a hand knitted sweater. He had to admit that the rations the British provided 
were better then those supplied at Nordenham. Even better than the few things smuggled over from the 
Netherlands.


Life, in fact, was pretty tolerable. The weather had been cold but the barracks had been well heated. Now, 
however, spring was coming and the air was becoming warmer.


Kimi had proved useful to the camp authorities. His excellent command of English meant he was 
frequently called on as a translator. Additionally, his mechanical skills were in high demand. Being 
personable, and young, he’d managed to establish a few relationships among the guards, some of whom 
took quite a paternal interest.


“Jock,” he called to the old Warrant Officer, “how’s the bicycle?”


“Better than new, Kimi boy. Here,” he said, pressing a small parcel into his hand, “Mrs. Smyth thought 
you’d appreciate a little Hymnal cake. She made it yesterday, Y’know,” he said confidentially, “she puts a 
little drop of whisky in it. Against the weather, you see.” 


“Thank Mrs. Smyth from me. Um… did you… Y’know… post that little letter, yesterday,” Kimi’s voice 
dropped to a whisper. The big man clapped him about the shoulder and laughed,


“Now which one would that be?” Kimi blushed.


“Was it alright? I mean… you won’t get into trouble?”


“Well now,” he replied, “If I had a day in the brig for every time I’ve broken Kings Regulations… I 
couldn’t see myself ever being a free man again.”


“Thanks Jock, I don’t know what to say.”


“Don’t worry lad. She’ll get it, unopened too.”


“How?”


“I stamped it ‘Official Mail’. The censor won’t touch it.”


“I’m in your debt.”


“Nonsense! Just be as happy as Mrs. Smyth and me. That will be reward enough. Will you live here or in 
Germany?”


“I don’t know. I don’t even know if she’d have me.”


“She’d be a fool if she doesn’t. If you decide to stay in Britain, well, there’s this cottage my brother owned. 
Before he… bought it in Flanders. Well you can have it if you want. Just a thought. There’s always room 
for good mechanics around here.”


“Thank you Jock… I…”


“Run along now… or I’ll be before Colonel Melrose for fraternising.”


In London, Rosy called to Eliza from the bottom of the stairs,


“Hey, Miss Eliza Simpson, Official War Office letter for you. Who have you been flirting with?”


“Official?” Eliza replied.


“That what it says. Do you want me to open it for you?”


“No, no!” she said, running down the stairs. She grabbed the letter and ran back up to her room.


“Well, excuse me!” Rosy said in annoyance.


The Letter read,


‘Dearest Eliza.’


‘I am presently in Scotland as a guest of His Britannic Majesty’s Armed Forces. This to let you know that I 
think of you my every waking hour and long to be with you. I am in camp GA 127N near Galston 
Kilmarnock. I am doing very well and am well fed. I hope you haven’t forgotten our conversation on the 
pier.


Love Kimi.


Eliza rummaged under her bed and grabbed a old pewter box. She frantically tipped out the contents on the 
candlewick bedspread. She grabbed a rolled up wad of notes and fled out of her room.


“Ere, where are you going in such a hurry?” Rosy yelled after her.


“Scotland!” Eliza yelled back as she dashed off down the street for the bus.


Eliza stood outside the forbidding looking barbed-wire gate. Two guards from the 12th East Glasgow 
Volunteers were arguing with her.


“I’m telling you this is a restricted area, Miss. you’re not supposed to be on this side of the river at all. 
You’ll have to see Major Monroe, Miss, back at the guards barracks.”


“But I’ve come all the way from London and…”


“Look, you could come from heaven, Miss, but you’d still need a pass.”


As she turned to go, a large elderly guard approached.


“You wouldn’t be Eliza Simpson by any chance?” he asked her.


“Yes… do you know k…”


“It’s alright boys, I’ll take it from here. Back to your posts.”


“Yes sir, Warrant Officer sir!” they snapped, and marched off.


“Now then, lass. Would you be after a friend of ours by any chance?” he asked Eliza.


“Yes, his name is K…”


“Not here lass. Come with me.” Eliza followed her away from the camp. When they had walked a while the 
WO said,


“He’s very special, your Kimi, isn’t he?”


“Yes, can I see him?” Eliza asked anxiously.


“It’ll take some arranging. Things are pretty slack here, but not that slack. That lot are not in a hurry to 
return home but you can’t let them loose to roam around the countryside. Tell me, have you ever thought of 
moving to Galston? I know a little cottage…”





















