The secret, parts 2 &3 by Michael Healy


(Apologies for late arrival of the end of Michael’s story, part 2 ‘got lost in the machine’. Ed)

‘No, don’t tell me’               (Part 2 of the Secret)

‘No, don’t tell me, I do not want to know.

You see it is a secret and so…

Keep it to yourself.  I don’t need to know.

It’s not supposed to pass to me.

Tittle, tattle, don’t talk free’.

 

Those were the fateful words,

That I had said to my friend.

I warned him that he should trust no one,

And not to say a word,

‘Loose talk costs lives’

 

He worked in engineering

At the local aircraft factory.

So you see he had to know the secrets

Of what was being built, to do his job.

Whilst I as a humble accountant

Who costed it out, knew little.

 

It seemed he had a pathological urge

To tell any secrets he knew

But it took stupidity and courage

To even tell a few

 

One day, as was likely to ever be

His free speech came to an end

Arrested by the local police

He was put before the Bench.

 

The Magistrates said he had an important job,

And was an intelligent man.

So why must he always tell his tales?

He must know loose talk’s a crime.

 

They fined him the sum of two hundred pounds

And said if he did it again,

He would go to prison despite his skills

And lose his job in the end.

 

What could I say, he was a fool to himself.

But many other lives were at risk,

From his loose and verbose tongue.

But at last he seemed to now understand,

What he had done wrong.

 

He said, no more would he talk so loose

He’d thought it had given his status a boost.

Ah, I thought, the reason he talked so free

It made him feel important, you see.

But in reality he already was vital to our War

And had no need to have stars on his door.

 

After, as we met in the dark of our usual nightly bus, I said,

Remember, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know!

 

                                                        Michael Healy

For background see ‘The Secret’ by Michael Healy

The Secret Factory  (Part 3 of the Secret)

There was a large area of grass

Where a football used to pass

As the works team played a game

With a team of men the same

But now the war was here

Not enough men would appear

To keep the games being played

 

So wooden sheds had now been built

On the grass between the buildings

Inside they housed the work for war

Where planes were made by the score.

A highly secret aeroplane was growing in this Factory

Keeping this secret was quite essential,

And that secret …?

Its body was made of wood, a wooden wonder.

 

Light, fast and very manoeuverable,

Flying higher than most; the enemy had nothing like it.

Armed with four canon, four machine guns and bombs

It had a sting,  just like a large Mosquito

Indeed, what a good name for it – the Mosquito

Fighter; bomber; photo reconnaissance; immensely versatile too.

No wonder it was such a vital secret, guarded through and through.

 

It was a Wednesday morning just before eleven,

Work was briefly set aside for the first tea break since seven.

The wail of the sirens suddenly rose to a high pitched warning scream.

‘To the Shelters quick’ the order went out and many a cuppa was spilled.

The guns guarding the factory began to blaze forth

A lone plane dived over our buildings, it came from the North

The guns stopped as he flew away.  We wondered why he came.

 

Two weeks went passed with no further disturbance

When the sirens went howling again. 

This time, from the noise above, more planes were coming to us

And then the bombs began to drop with a cacophony of crashing sound.  Twenty minutes and it was all over. Thank God.

The sirens soon sounded the steady ‘All Clear’,

and we crawled from our bunkers to see the dust, the damage, the injured and fear.

 

The wooden sheds had all but gone and the buildings were all badly damaged.

The machines that we used lay broken and twisted.  Even my pencil was snapped

It took us three weeks to restart production, with the help of one of our Shadow Factories.

Did the enemy know what we were making here?

Or was it just bad luck on our part that they came near?

One thing for sure after all this mayhem,

No one would ever loose talk again!

                                                               

                                                                      Michael Healy

 

For background see  ‘The Secret’ and ‘Don’t tell me’ by Michael Healy
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