AFS Driver

Copyright Oggbashan June 2020

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

+++

I had just enough energy left to change into my pyjamas and climb into my lonely bed. It was 3 am on an October 1940 morning and I had to be at work at 8 am.

I am an AFS (Auxiliary Fire Service) driver and I had spent this Sunday night in London's dockland with our trailer pump, pumping water from the Thames to the other fire fighters. I had retired from work over a decade ago and had tried to join the local Defence volunteers, now the Home Guard, but had been rejected for being too old despite having been a regular officer throughout the Great War. But I had a driving licence and a Ford V8 car. The AFS had accepted me as a driver, driving my own car and towing a trailer pump. But even they would not accept me as a fire fighter, only as a driver. Throughout the night I had operated the trailer pump while the younger men used the hoses.

I am on duty for the AFS Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights. The rest of the week someone else drives my car towing the trailer pump.

My former employers, whom I had left a decade earlier as a senior manager, had no problems with my advanced age. I had returned, this time as a foreman, to train women in the electronics factory which was now making radar sets instead of the domestic wirelesses we had made before the war.

I was lying in my bed, very tired but unable to sleep, as I reviewed the events of the night as the German bombs fell around us. We had lost two fire engines but no men. That was a relief. The all-clear sirens had sounded at two-thirty am and I and my crew could go home, relieved by other AFS crews.

But a lone German bomber had become lost on the way to London and arrived late. It decided to jettison its bombs over our dormitory suburb instead of braving the searchlights and anti-aircraft guns over central London. Of course, it might just have been running low on fuel and needed to drop its bombs if it was to get back across the Channel. But without warning and before an air raid siren could be sounded, it dropped its payload. One heavy bomb landed in my back garden, demolishing my house. I was blown out of bed, my pyjamas shredded, and the roof fell on me. I was slightly shielded by the mattress of my bed but I was trapped in the remains of the building which was on fire.

It took a quarter of an hour before the heavy rescue squad could get to me and haul me out, completely naked, cut, bruised and with some minor burns. The covered me with a blanket as I was before carrying me into the street on a stretcher.

But then they had a problem. Every local hospital was full of seriously injured patients. Apart from shock and superficial injuries I didn't need hospital attention. Mrs Owens, my neighbour from across the street, brought me a cup of sweetened tea. They sat me up to drink it. The blanket slipped down revealing my naked chest.

"How are you, Albert?" Mary Owens asked.

"A bit shook up, Mary," I admitted, "and annoyed. I've lost my house and all my clothes. Apart from this blanket, I have nothing, nothing at all, and it isn't even my blanket..."

The heavy rescue squad were still discussing what to do with me. Mary Owens solved their problem.

"Take him into my house and upstairs to the bedroom," she said.

"Are you sure?" she was asked.

"Yes, Albert is a friend, and a work colleague as well as a neighbour. I will look after him."

I wasn't so sure, but I was in no state to object. The delayed shock was giving me the shakes. But Mary was right. She was a friend. Her husband Joshua had been a regular sergeant in the Royal Artillery. My only son Andrew had been a corporal, acting sergeant at the time of Dunkirk. The sergeants had been the only live men firing a twenty-five pounder as they held the Dunkirk perimeter, until they were both killed by a Stuka dive bomber. When Mary had married Joshua in 1938 she had been a basic nurse, SEN qualified, working in Central London. She had resigned and taken a job at the electronics factory. She could walk to work and the pay was similar. It increased when she was made a temporary foreman at the start of 1940. She was earning far more than she would ever have earned as a nurse. She and I worked the same shifts and often walked to and from the factory together. When her husband and my son had been killed we had become closer even though she was decades younger than me. I had been able to help her with the paperwork, having dealt with the death of my wife Helen from cancer in 1937. Dealing with Joshua's death had been slightly more complex because he had been buying the house on a mortgage. Unusually the insurance on that hadn't excluded death by enemy action so Mary became the outright owner.

Even a year before Munich I had decided war was coming and had employed builders to construct a substantial air raid shelter under my sloping back garden. If the air raid siren had sounded, I would have been in that shelter and uninjured even through the bomb landed directly above it. The bomb was intended to penetrate several feet of earth before exploding, causing damage by an underground earthquake. But the large rockery on top of my shelter had prevented the bomb from penetrating. My house was the only one severely damaged. If the bomb had penetrated as it should, we would have lost half the street.

Mary spread an old sheet on top of the eiderdown on her double bed. I was moved from the stretcher to that bed. I was startled when Mary whipped off the blanket leaving me naked. She folded it up and gave it to the stretcher bearers.

"Here you are," she said, "this is yours."

The first aider doctor gave her a Government Issue pot of petroleum jelly and some wintergreen.

"The petroleum jelly goes where his skin is injured, the wintergreen where he is bruised but NOT on broken skin. That would hurt. I've written a sick note for his employers for a week. He'll probably need longer than that."

"I know wintergreen would hurt," Mary said, "I used to be a nurse."

The leader of the heavy rescue team spoke to me.

"Mr Thomas, we'll make the remains of your house safe. There won't be much left. Where will you live? Do you need temporary accommodation?"

"Probably not," I replied. If it is OK I can probably live in my air raid shelter. It's large enough, if it is undamaged."

"It is. We checked just in case someone was in it. It is more solid than almost all air raid shelters we have seen. We have locked it. Here is the key."

He put the key on the bedside table.

"There is too much in there that looters would find attractive."

His unstated comment was that I might be a hoarder.

"I equipped it in 1937," I said. "Even then, long before rationing and the declaration of war I knew I might need supplies."

"And there is much in there that people would almost kill for. The rockery on top stopped the bomb and your strong garden walls contained the blast. That wrecked your house, but all the others have very minor damage -- a few broken windows are the worst. Are you sure you can live in your air raid shelter?"

"But until he is fit he is staying with me," Mary announced definitely.

"How is the garage?" I asked.

"It seems untouched." the leader said. "Why?"

"My car and an AFS trailer pump are in there. If they are OK they will be needed tonight."

"OK. I'll send someone to check. Where are the car keys?"

"In the dashboard because I might have needed it urgently. If it is OK can you inform the AFS?"

"I'll tell the air raid warden. He'll arrange that."

The man he had sent to report on the garage returned.

"Mr Thomas, your car and trailer pump are untouched, just a bit dusty. I have locked the garage. There is too much good stuff in there."

He put the key on the bedside table.

"Thank you. The AFS have a spare key. They'll probably need the car and trailer tonight even if I can't drive."

"You won't," the first aider said. "You need to rest and recover maybe for five or six days, Mr Thomas. After all, you are no youngster."

"I'll make sure he does," Mary said. "He isn't going anywhere. He has no clothes."

That statement reminded me that I was completely naked on top of the bed. I moved my hands to cover my private parts. Mary laughed at me.

"It's a bit late for that, Albert. We've all seen everything."

"I'll get the Air Raid warden to speak to the Women's Voluntary Service," The leader said. "They have some clothes for those who have lost them and you'll get extra clothing coupons -- eventually."

"But until then he is staying in bed," Mary announced.

"OK, Mrs Owens. Thank you. We have to move on. Another house was damaged half a mile away but the occupants were all at work on the night shift. Unless? Mr Thomas? Did you have a gas supply?"

"No. Only electricity. I had turned that off at the mains before I went to bed. There is no gas in the whole street -- yet. We had been told they were going to run pipes this year but that won't happen now."

"Maybe they will -- after the war."

"Maybe, but I won't hold my breath. Anyway, I need a house before I can have gas."

"True. Are you sure, Mrs Owens, that you can look after Albert? I could ask the WVS."

"No thanks. I'll manage. Albert is no trouble, really, and he is my friend."

"Thank you. We'll be off. Goodbye."

+++

Almost as soon as they had gone Mary started applying petroleum jelly to my abraded skin. I was almost purring as she smoothed it on gently. I winced when she asked me to turn over but I was asleep before she finished anointing my back.

I woke up as Mary brought me breakfast in bed at seven am. I was surprised that my hands and arms didn't work properly and she had to feed me. She had to get the chamber pot for me before I could start eating. That embarrassed me. Mary might have been a nurse, but she is a very attractive young woman and I was very aware that I was completely naked. She noticed my erection and smiled.

"That's a good sign, Albert," she said. "If you didn't react when I was handling you that might have been an indication of internal injuries. But that shows you like me..."

"I do, Mary, but I'm embarrassed that I am naked and you have to do everything for me."

"But I'm your friend, Albert, and that shows you are not as old as your years might suggest. But now? I'm going to have to leave you for about a quarter of an hour to go to the factory, to tell them you are out of action and ask for leave so I can look after you. It will be awkward for them with two foremen out of action at once, but I'm sure the women can cope. We've trained them well enough, and they'll do the extra just for you. You are liked, respected, and yes, even loved by those who work for and with you."

"Loved?" I queried.

"Yes, Albert, loved. You are considerate, fair and reasonable, unlike some other foremen. Many of the women working for you want to have you in their beds, just as you are in mine. But now you are, you are in no state to DO anything, are you?"

I shook my head.

"No. I can't understand it. My hands and arms don't work. I am very tired and generally hurting. Yet I have no real injuries."

"That is shock, Albert. You can't expect to be blown out of bed and recover instantly."

+++

I was asleep while Mary went to the factory. She brought me a cup of tea when she returned.

"They have told me to take the week off to look after you. The factory doctor will come to see you on Friday to assess whether you are fit to work. If not? You will still be on sick leave and I will be on special leave to continue looking after you."

"Friday! I hope I'll be well enough on Friday. They need me. So does the AFS."

"But until the doctor declares you fit, you're mine -- naked in my bed."

"I can't stay naked for a week, Mary."

"Yes, you can. You have no clothes at all."

A shout came up the stairs.

"Mary? It's Olive from the WVS."

"Come up, Olive," Mary shouted back. "We're in the bedroom."

"But I'm naked," I whispered.

"Never mind, Albert. Olive has seen it all before."

I was still embarrassed when Olive entered the bedroom. Olive is another attractive woman, about the same age as Mary. I couldn't stop my instinctive reaction.

"Oh my," Olive said. "That is a great salute."

"It is, isn't it," Mary said. "It's bigger than my husband's was..."

"And bigger than my husband's is," Olive said.

"Ladies, you are embarrassing me," I said plaintively.

"Never mind, Albert," Olive said. "You should be proud of it."

She leant over the bed and kissed me on the cheek.

"I've come to measure you up to see what clothing we have in your size," Olive said, producing a cloth tape measure.

"We'll have to allow for that in your underpants."

Before I knew what she had intended she had measured the length of my erection.

"I thought so," Olive said, "a genuine two inches longer than my husband."

"Olive!" I protested.

She and Mary laughed at me.

Olive took more conventional measurements of my waist, chest, height, leg length etc.

"Um," she said when she had written all the measurements down. "We might have underpants, vests, shirts and socks, but a suit -- and shoes? Those might be difficult. You are so tall and your feet are so large."

"Maybe there is something in the myth that large feet means large elsewhere," Mary said.

"It is certainly true for Albert," Olive said. "I'll arrange for more clothing coupons. You'll have to get a tailor to make your suits, Albert."

"And how can I do that? I can't go to a tailor in my underpants." I objected.

"I don't think you could wear anything at present, Albert," Olive said. "Your bruises are beginning to show and they're almost everywhere."

"I was given some wintergreen," Mary said, "but I can't see anywhere where I could use it. I have to avoid broken skin and where is there any unbroken skin?"

Mary and Olive examined me everywhere before applying more petroleum jelly. I was even more embarrassed by two attractive women stroking my naked body. Although they were very gentle, my bruising meant that even their delicate touch was painful.

Olive was right. I couldn't wear anything. Even wrapping part of the sheet over me was too painful on my damaged skin. My bruises were beginning to show. In a few days they would be very colourful.

+++

By Wednesday my body was showing all the bruises. Mary had to apply the petroleum jelly very delicately to avoid me screaming with pain. But it was beginning to have an impact on my broken skin. She had been anointing me three times a day. Every time she came into the bedroom my erection saluted her and while she was applying the jelly it became painfully erect. She seemed to think my instinctive salute was amusing.

But, despite the pain I was able to get out of bed to go to the bathroom with Mary's help. That was far more comfortable than being balanced on a chamber pot.

+++

That afternoon Olive returned bearing a bag of clothes.

"I'm sorry, Albert," she said. "I've got underpants, vests, two shirts, a couple of sweaters, handkerchiefs and socks but we haven't got any trousers, suits or shoes in your size."

"Could you, or Mary, go to my air raid shelter?" I asked.

"I could," Olive replied, "But why?"

"I've got a couple of pairs of my army boots in there and I think a pair of gardening trousers as well."

I picked up the key off the bedside table, wincing as I moved.

"OK. Albert. Back shortly."

Olive left. She was back in a few minutes carrying a bag.

"I had to search. You've got a lot of stuff in there. But I've found the boots and trousers at least. But you won't be able to wear them for some days yet."

"Thank you. Olive. Have you got time to stay a quarter of an hour?"

"Yes, Albert. Why?

"Mary has told me that my car and trailer pump have been used every night but I had intended to service it this week. If you could stay, Mary could go to the Air Warden's office and ask them to check with the AFS that they will arrange servicing."

"OK, Albert, I'll stay with you."

Mary went off to the Air Raid Warden's office about fifty yards away. Olive stayed by my bedside and we talked about how I might be able to get a suit, when the extra clothing coupons arrived. Mary took longer than I expected but I was enjoying talking to another attractive woman even though I was embarrassed that I was still erect and naked. When Mary returned, Olive leant over the bed and kissed me.

"Oi, Olive!" Mary objected. "He's mine!"

"Yours, Mary?" Olive asked.

"Yes. He's naked in my bed and I'm not letting him go until..." Mary blushed.

"You'll have to wait some time, Mary. He's not up to 'that' yet." Olive said.

"But he will be."

"Do I have any say in his?" I asked plaintively.

"No," both women chorused.

"If she doesn't," Olive said, "I will."

"But..."

"No buts. Albert," Mary said. "You're not getting out of my bed until we have. That will prove you are fit enough to go back to work."

"I thought the company doctor will decide that," I said.

"No. I will," Mary said.

"And if she doesn't, I will," Olive added.

When Olive had gone I protested to Mary that I was far too old for her. She pointed at my continued erection.

"That says you're not and it salutes me every time I come into the room, Albert. It needs attention and it will get it. If I don't -- Olive will."

"OK, but you'll have to be gentle, very gentle. But -- what did the Air Raid Warden say?"

"Not him but the AFS commander. The Air Raid Warden rang him. You had left a reminder to yourself on the driver's seat. The local Ford Dealer serviced it free and put new brake shoes on -- from your garage, and two new tyres you also had in there. It is now ready for the next thousand miles."

"That's good. I was worried that they would keep using it. It needed a service..."

"So does that..." Mary said. "Just lie back and think of England..."

Before I knew what she had intended she had taken my erection into her mouth. I groaned as she brought me to the edge again and again. I couldn't stop her or move to react to her insistent attentions. She was obviously very skilled at what she was doing. Soon, too soon, I had come into her mouth.

That night I had a naked Mary beside me in bed, her soft breasts gently pressed against me. In the early hours we heard the distant bombs dropping on the East End. I flinched every time I heard a bomb. Mary kissed and stroked me back to sleep.

Thursday morning over breakfast I asked:

"What would you do if the air raid siren sounded, Mary?"

"I go downstairs into the Morrison shelter, trying to take you with me."

A Morrison Shelter is just a reinforced steel table that would hold up any falling debris. It doesn't give as much protection as an Anderson shelter buried in the garden.

"We'd be much safer in my air raid shelter, Mary," I said.

"Maybe, but could you get there?"

"We'll try, tomorrow, after the company doctor has been," I said.

+++

The company doctor came on Friday morning. I had been covered by a sheet but Mary whipped it off me, I reacted to the attractive young woman doctor just as I had done to Mary and Olive. The doctor was impressed.

"That shows that you are reasonably fit, Albert," she said, "but your bruises are impressive."

"I've been given wintergreen," Mary said, "But I can't see anywhere where it would be safe to use it."

"Neither can I," the doctor said. "Albert? I've give you some aspirin. Take two every four hours. They should take some of the pain of the bruises away -- but you aren't going back to work for another week. I'll come again next Friday. OK?"