Beneath Gray Skies (29 page)

When this had happened to a German naval airship, he said, the airship had been grounded for almost a month while the engine pod and three gasbags were replaced. And, Major Weisstal added almost as an afterthought, five ground crew as well as three of the airship’s crew had been killed.

Once out of the shed, the task was to stop the airship from blowing away in the wind, but since the whole of the enormous shed was mounted on a giant turntable, the shed could be turned so that the wind would always be at the airship’s back, or “stern”. On the command “up ship”, the airship would drop a large quantity of water, which would then make the airship lighter than the air in which it was floating, and the ground crew would drop the ropes, which would then later be hauled inside the airship by the airship’s crew. “And don’t forget to let go of the ropes,” Major Weisstal reminded them. He told another story of a ground crew rigger who had wound the rope around his wrist and had been lifted a thousand feet into the air when the airship took off. Happily, the airship crew had been able to haul on the rope and drag him into the cabin, but it had not been easy.

“How does the airship land?” David had asked.

When the airship came in to land, Major Weisstal explained, the first thing to do was to drop a metal wire to the ground. This, he went on, was to ground the airship, as it might have built up an electrical charge during its flight, and a spark might fly between the airship and the metal mooring mast, which could set off the hydrogen. Major Weisstal explained this to David, and to Major LeHay, who seemed not to have heard of this technique, and showed how even a small amount of static electricity could produce relatively large sparks, using a bakelite comb rubbed on his woolen uniform.

“Of course, the danger’s really only there when the ship is filled with hydrogen,” he explained. “With helium-filled ships, there’s no gas to explode, but it’s probably a good idea to discharge the static electricity, anyway.”

Once the spark had jumped between the ground and the end of the wire, he went on, the airship would drop another, stronger rope from the nose. At the end of this rope was a clip, which was attached to the clip at the end of a similar rope dropped from the top of the mooring mast. Once that had been done, the winch in the mooring mast started to reel in the airship, drawing the nose to the rotating head of the mast. And once docked, a gangway allowed the passengers and crew to step comfortably off the airship onto the ground. In the case of the Cordele mast, a gangway would lead from the airship’s hull into the mast itself, making it easier for the passengers to step on and off the airship.

Once the airship had been moored and emptied of passengers, the ground crew could walk it into the shed.

“So, it’s all very simple in theory,” explained Weisstal, “but quite complicated when you actually try to do it. One of the most difficult things to manage is to get everyone to do everything instantly they receive the order. Even one or two seconds can make a big difference to whether the airship launches safely or not. And the other difficult thing you must do is to make sure that everyone hears the orders. That’s not so easy, with an airship’s engines running.”

“How did you manage in Germany, Major?” asked Colonel Vickers, who was also a part of the conversation.

“Bugles,” was the surprising answer. “We found that the noise of a bugle was about the only thing that would cut through the noise of the engines. You use bugles in your army, don’t you? I can teach you and some of your buglers the calls we used for our work.”

David discovered that he wasn’t really musical, or at any rate had no memory for bugle calls, and despaired of being able to control the ground crew.

“No, David,” explained Weisstal (David had long ago ceased to be ‘Sergeant’ to his chess partner). “The ‘Stand fast’ call is ‘ta-taaa-ta-ta’. The ‘Up ship’ call goes ‘ta-ta-ta-taaa’, like Beethoven’s Fifth.”

“Beethoven, sir? Who’s that?”

“Oh dear,” sighed Weisstal, and muttered something in German that was probably a comment on the lack of general artistic culture in the Confederacy.

David felt dumb, and said so.

“No, I don’t think you’re dumb,” replied Weisstal. “If you were dumb, you wouldn’t be as good at your German as you are, and you wouldn’t be able to play chess, let alone win all the time. Let me hear you sing something.”

David sang a few lines of “The Old Rugged Cross”, and Major Weisstal winced.

“I’m afraid, David, that you’re going to have to accept the fact that you have no voice for singing or ear for music. But that doesn’t stop you from having many other fine gifts, so cheer up.”

The airship handling crew continued drilling, feeling particularly ridiculous as they marched around with a large wooden frame on wheels to the top of which ropes were attached, listening to bugle calls, and trying to work in unison.

Major Weisstal occasionally dropped by and offered constructive criticism. “You’re all doing very well,” he told David one day. “Since none of you has ever seen an airship, it’s extremely impressive to see you all so well-trained. I really don’t have any worries about your team’s ability to look over the
Bismarck
when she comes over.”

“The
Bismarck
, sir?”

“Yes, that’s what the airship’s just been named. Know anything about Bismarck?” David shook his head, so Major Weisstal told him about the way in which a number of small German countries had been joined together to become a great world power.

“Kind of the opposite way round to America, then, sir?”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ve often wondered what the world would be like if the Union had stayed together in the 1860s. I’m sure the whole of America would be the strongest country in the world today, and all the countries in Europe would be playing second fiddle by now. But we mustn’t speculate on what might have been. We have to concentrate on what’s going to happen, sooner than we like, and that means I have to talk to Major LeHay and Colonel Vickers. Can you find them for me, please, and make an appointment for me to see them. There’s something in this latest cable from Berlin that needs their attention. As well as all the politicians arriving, there’s some kind of special cargo coming in, and I want to know how we are planning to deal with it when it arrives.”

-o-

A
fter David had done that, he had no further duties, so he wandered into town. There was a girl with curly dark hair and curves in all the right places, or so it seemed to him, who worked in the tavern. She always smiled at him when he went in there, and he had hopes of asking her out some day. As a sergeant, with the makings of a fine new mustache, he thought he stood a chance of at least being allowed to take her to the movies one evening.

He never got the chance to talk to her that evening in quite the way he’d planned. As he passed a corner, a stooped figure with a cane moved towards him.

“Corporal Slater?” the man asked, in a strange accent. “Sorry, Sergeant now, I see,” added the bearded stranger, obviously catching sight of the chevrons on David’s arm. “Congratulations, David.”

“How the heck do you know my name?” blurted David. “And who are you?”

“Don’t you recognize an old friend?” The accent suddenly changed and a familiar smile appeared on the face of the man, a stranger no longer.

“Brian! What in heck are you doing here?”

“I’ve changed my name. I’m called Lewis now, if you can get used to that.” The accent was back to the Southern accent that David couldn’t quite place. “And if you can see your way to allowing a man to buy a beer for a deserving member of the Army of the Confederacy, I’d be mighty pleased to be the man doing that buying.”

“So where have you been, and what happened to your back?” asked David, as they walked along the street together, Brian tapping away with his cane.

“Germany, Switzerland, Portugal, Mexico, Louisiana, and nothing happened to my back,” replied Brian.

“Gee!” exclaimed David. “That’s a lot of countries. But why the cane, then?”

“So’s I don’t look the same as I did, of course. You figure I’m going to be popular round the Army of the Confederacy lookin’ the same way I did then? That’s why I look the way I do.” David looked at the other’s midriff and sniggered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bet you I can lose this belly any time I want. And I’ll trouble you not to laugh. Or to mention my real name to anyone. I don’t think you’d like to see me hanging high, would you now? While we’re alone and private, now, I’d like to know what happened to that girl in Berlin?”

“She took me to the center of town and then left me. I never saw her again,” David sighed. “She was mighty pretty, wasn’t she?”

“Yes she was, but she was German and at least five years older than you, I guess. How the heck would you two have ever have talked about anything? Supposing talking was the thing on your mind, that was, and you had no more to be thinking of. You don’t speak no German.”

“
Doch,
” replied David indignantly. “
Ich kann ein bißchen deutsch sprechen
,” he said, slowly and carefully.

“That’s mighty impressive. When did you learn that?”

“One of the Germans round here.”

“Sounds like a nice kind of guy. Not like the ones we met in Germany.”

David agreed, and changed the subject. He didn’t want to be reminded of what Brian, or Lewis, or whatever his name was now, actually might be doing or whose side he was really on. “Where are you staying?”

“With a friend in this town. Actually, she’s kind of family, I suppose. She’s in Washington now.”

“Gone over to the Yanks?”

Lewis shook his head. “Well, Washington’s in the Union, I suppose, but she’s gone North for a friend’s wedding, that’s all.”

David whistled. “They allowed her to do that? To go up to the North just like that?”

“Seems like they did. The friend’s quite important, it seems. So,” after walking on a bit, “what are you up to? Seems like a mighty fine regimental badge you’ve got there? Not with the 3rd Alabama any more? No use my inquiring after Tom and the rest of them, I suppose?”

“No, I haven’t seen Tom for some months. I’m with the Airship Support Regiment right now. Brand-new regiment. I was only the second person on the regiment,” David said proudly.

“Well, what are you meant to be doing when you tell me you support airships?”

“We take good care of the airship when she comes in. We make sure she gets hooked up proper to the mooring mast, and then take her into the shed. Then when it’s time for her to go out again, we walk her out.”

“Sounds interesting,” said Lewis.

“It is mighty interesting,” agreed David, and as they walked to the tavern, he explained the intricacies of the airship handling procedures to his friend. Just before they went inside, David stopped. “You know, I don’t reckon I ought to be telling you all this.”

“Can’t figure it makes any difference,” replied Lewis. You’re not telling me anything really secret or anything military.”

“Guess not,” admitted David. “Don’t figure there’s anything that important about all this anyway, is there? Now if it was an Army airship, that would be kind of different, wouldn’t it?” He reckoned there was little harm in letting Brian know the technical details of the airship. He was pretty pleased with himself anyway for knowing more about the subject than any other non-com in the whole of the army, and it was good to have someone to show off to.

“Of course it would be different, and I wouldn’t expect you to be telling me.”

They walked into the tavern. David’s prospective belle, Julie-Ann, took their order for a pitcher of Dixie beer and a plate of goober peas. When she’d left them, Lewis continued the conversation.

“What’s going on by the river, anyhow? I see the big shed you guys are building when I go out walking. But there’s something else a ways off which I can’t figure out what it is.”

“That ain’t nothin’ to do with us. That’s for the engineers and the scientists from Texas way. It’s a big plant to make the gas for the airships.”

“Ah. What kind of gas is that, and how do they make it, then?”

“I don’t rightly know that much about that side of things, and I’m not sure that I should be telling you if I did.” David’s suspicions were rising again, but Lewis merely smiled. “It’s called helium, and it comes out of the ground in Texas or some place as one kind of gas, and then they get this special gas out of the gas that comes out of the ground.”