Fly Boy (11 page)

Two of the other guys had gotten off their bunks as well, and the four of us went out into the corridor. There was no door to close behind us because all of the stateroom doors had been removed to make more space. The only doors that remained on the whole ship were either waterproof doors or those for the few staterooms that carried high-ranking officers or dignitaries. I’d been told that Winston Churchill, England’s prime minister, had travelled on this ship. I figured
he
hadn’t slept on the top bunk of a triple bed.

We entered the stairwell. It was bare concrete. All of the carpeting had been stripped away—too much of a hazard if the ship caught fire. We climbed the stairs, level by level. We were eleven floors below deck. Low-ranking servicemen got the lower floors. I guess I shouldn’t have complained—at
least we had a room. Other men were sleeping in bunks that had been placed on the Promenade Deck or, even worse, in the swimming pool! It had been drained, of course, the way the whole ship had been drained of all its finery. I could only imagine what it would have been like with all the expensive china, crystal, tablecloths, and fancy chandeliers it had before the war.

At each turn we passed another group of men either playing cards or shooting craps. Gambling wasn’t allowed— officially—but there were pots of money visible at all of the games. Of course, I hadn’t been involved with anything like that. I’d tried to keep to myself as much as possible. Besides, the CO at flight school had given me advanced navigation textbooks and flight manuals for the Lancaster before I left, and I swore I’d have them practically memorized before I reached the base. I was going to be the youngest, the least trained, and the most inexperienced person there, and I knew I’d have to work harder than everybody else if I wanted to show I belonged … which, of course, I really didn’t.

We made our way out onto the deck. The air was cool— no, it was
cold—
but it still felt very good in my lungs and on my face. I could taste the salt in the air, but at least the ride was a lot smoother now. For the first two days, we’d experienced rough seas and a lot of men had been under the weather. That wasn’t so bad for those of us in the army or the air force, but it was a bit embarrassing for a sailor to be hanging over the railing throwing up into the ocean.

The whole starboard railing was lined with men. Obviously that was the side for viewing. We walked along, looking for an opening.

The deck, which once would have held deck chairs, was
lined with lifeboats—enough to accommodate the 16,000 passengers who now filled the ship beyond any capacity the designers had ever dreamed of or planned for. I’d gotten to know those boats well. Every single day of our passage had been marked by two exercises: a lifeboat drill and an abandon-ship drill. I knew these activities weren’t just a way to pass the time but something that could save our lives. Just like with all the drills they made us do in basic training, they wanted us to be able to act quickly, without thinking, if the need arose.

Above us, on the upper deck, were the armaments that had been added to the ship. There were six three-inch, low-angle guns, two dozen single-barrel 20-millimetre cannons, and four sets of two-inch rocket launchers on the stern. It was an impressive array of weaponry. Of course, it was all designed to defend against an attack from the air or from surface vessels, and neither of those was what we needed to fear. The only real dangers were those that were unseen—the U-boats that could be anywhere beneath the waves. The best defence the
Queen Mary
had against U-boats—other than the escort vessels—was her speed and camouflage. The
Queen
had been painted navy grey, and her nickname was the Grey Ghost because of the way she’d been impossible for the U-boats to find as she sped across the ocean, changing course continually, zigzagging so no U-boat could get in front of her.

We found an opening at the railing, and the four of us squeezed in. On the horizon was the coast. It was far enough away that we couldn’t make out much detail other than some colours—greens and greys and browns—but close enough to be reassuring. It looked as though we were paralleling the shore, but it was impossible to judge distance. We could be five miles out or we could be thirty.

“Looks like the
Queen Mary
got through again,” Campbell said.

“Don’t count your chickens until they’re hatched,” a sailor just over from him said. “We’ve still got a lot of ocean before we reach port.”

Instinctively I looked down at the water and scanned it for periscopes. That had been my habit during the entire trip whenever I was on deck and at the railing. All I’d ever seen were rolling seas and the outlines of our escorts and other ships in the convoy. It was reassuring to see them now, even closer than usual.

“I wouldn’t imagine any U-boat captain would be crazy enough to come this close to the mainland,” Campbell said. “It’s not just the escort vessels in our convoy but all the reconnaissance flights going over. He’d be seen the first time he poked up a periscope.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to see a periscope?” one of the sailors asked. “It’s one bloody big sea and one tiny little tube sticking out.”

“What would it matter?” Campbell replied. “The
Queen Mary
makes thirty knots at full steam. Are you telling me there’s a U-boat that can hope to match that? She’d just outrun it.”

“Do you think the U-boat is going to ram our ship?” the sailor asked, barely hiding the contempt in his voice. “And do you really think the
Queen Mary
can outrun a torpedo?” He and his friends began laughing. “Good thing we don’t take advice from the
air force
about subs,” he said with disdain.

I had a pretty good idea where this was going to end. There had been lots of little skirmishes during the passage. You put this many men in too small a space and don’t give
them anything to do, and you’ve got the basic ingredients for trouble. Then add in alcohol, gambling for high stakes, and members of the army, navy, and air force all mixed in together, and you’re almost guaranteed trouble.

I did a quick head count of the crowd. Most of the men around us were army. They were the guys in khaki uniforms, and they were by far the majority on the ship. The rest of the men were mostly sailors—in the navy blue uniforms. This sailor had two buddies and there were a couple more navy blues down the way. The sailors were probably the worst for fighting. I looked around for the lighter-blue air force uniform, but aside from me and Campbell, there weren’t any fly boys to be seen. Maybe Campbell would just let that comment go past without—

“Good thing the air force is there to watch over you from above,” Campbell retorted. “Without us, you and your little bathtub toys would go down the drain.”

Great, just what we needed—a skirmish this close to the end of the voyage. The sailor came forward and I stepped between them.

“Look, boys,” I said, “how about if we agree that the navy and the air force work together to keep the convoy safe. It’s a partnership, right?”

The sailor looked down at me and scowled. This was not going to end well. Maybe I should get in the first punch before he got in the last. No, maybe not just yet. I decided to give it another try.

“I just don’t want any Nazi looking through his periscope and seeing us fighting amongst ourselves. How about if you sailors join us members of the air force for a drink to celebrate reaching England?”

His scowl dissolved into a look of thoughtfulness.

“I’m buying,” I said.

He broke into a big smile. “Why didn’t you say so!” He slapped me on the back. “We’d be honoured to share a drink with the fine gentlemen of the air force.”

He offered Campbell his hand and they shook.

“As long as we don’t have to spend any more time with army grunts,” the sailor said.

A couple of the soldiers standing nearby heard his words and reacted.

“Yeah, no army, just members of the two
elite
branches of the military,” Campbell said. “If we want the army to come, we’ll just whistle like we’re calling a—”

“I think there’s room at the table for everybody,” I interjected. I pulled out some money. “Would you gentlemen like to join us?” I said to the soldiers. “My treat, so we can hoist a glass to toast the successful crossing of the Grey Ghost.”

“Thanks,” one of the soldiers said. He turned to his friends. “Come on, boys, the drinks are on the fly boy!”

Seven or eight soldiers broke into smiles and cheered. I wanted to say that I’d only invited a couple of them, but that would have started a fight for sure. Besides, lots of men had spent most of their pay on alcohol; I’d just be the first to do it without drinking anything himself.

“Let’s go, boys,” I said. “He’s right, the drinks are on the fly boy.”

“Leading Aircraftman McWilliams reporting for duty, sir!” I said, snapping to attention.

“Have a seat,” the CO said without looking up from the clutter on his desk. He had a thick English accent, a thicker moustache, and eyebrows that matched. He looked as though he was old enough to have kids older than me.

I looked around. The only seats were already occupied with piles of paper. Carefully I scooped up some of the papers and placed them on the floor and sat down.

My new commanding officer—Group Captain Matthews—continued to work. I looked around. The walls of the room were filled with maps of Europe, charts, and the names of pilots and their crews. I started to count. There had to be seventy or eighty bomber crews stationed at this base.

Group Captain Matthews looked up at me from the work on his desk and his eyes widened in surprise. I knew what he was going to say next.

“How old are you, son?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

“Old enough to fight, sir.”

He chuckled. “That wasn’t the question, son. How old
are
you?”

“Eighteen on my last birthday, sir.”

“Well, that would make you nineteen on your next
birthday, which would still make you the youngest person on this base.” He shook his head. “We’re desperate for navigators, but I was hoping for somebody who had more experience than simply being able to find his way home from school.”

“I understand your concern, sir, but I won’t let you down.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about. You have never been on a combat mission.”

“No, sir.”

“You can tone down that ‘sir’ stuff as well. Please, not so often, or at least not so loud. We’re a little less formal here at the front.”

“Yes, sir … I mean, yes.”

He let out a big sigh. “Okay, let me look at your transfer papers.”

He started shuffling papers around on his desk, moving piles from one side to the other, but it didn’t look as though he was having any luck. I glanced down at the floor to the papers I’d just moved. On the top of one pile was a manila folder, and in large letters the label read
McWilliams, David
.

I picked it up. “Is this what you’re looking for, sir?”

He took it. “Yes, it is, but why did you have it?”

“I didn’t. It was here … on the floor.”

“Oh, good. At least it was somewhere in my office.” He opened the file up. “Oh, goodness, it says here that you’ve not yet even completed your training as a navigator.”

“No, sir. They said I’d receive my final training here, sort of on-the-job.”

“Wonderful. So instead of sending me a navigator, they sent me somebody who might someday grow up to be a navigator.”

“Sir, I will work hard to become the best navigator you have.”

He chuckled. “I like that confidence, but may I suggest that you don’t make that claim in the presence of the other navigators?”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Well, for better or worse, you’re what we’ve got. Ask my clerk to bring you to the supply room to be issued your flight suit, chow down in the mess hall, and then report to the briefing room at nineteen hundred hours. I’ll assign you to a navigator who will supervise and coordinate your ongoing training.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, jumping to my feet and saluting.

He gave me a little wave that was sort of like a salute. “And don’t be late. We’ll be in the air by twenty hundred and over France within three hours of that.”

“I’m going out with the crew tonight?”

“I don’t know any other way to train and test you.” He paused and looked at me as though he was deep in thought. “You seem a little surprised.”

“I guess a bit … I just didn’t think I’d be going out so soon.”

“The faster we train you, the sooner you can be on your own. The war isn’t waiting for you to be trained. Now get moving, you only have forty minutes.”