On Wings of the Morning (6 page)

Otto was not a power hitter. He hit hard line drives that tended to fall in front of outfielders and had good speed on the bases, so his average hovered somewhere around .420. Coach batted him third.

He stood in against the pitcher, who unleashed a fastball that tailed off at the last second. Otto swung and missed. This guy had the best arm the Superiors had seen. Otto tapped the plate with his bat and awaited the next pitch. The kid from Madison wound up and delivered, this time a curve that broke over the plate. Otto swung high. Oh and two. One more strike and they would have a long bus ride back to Pioneer Lake. The crowd had to be making noise, but Otto felt like they were behind a glass wall.

The pitcher wound up and grooved a fast ball right down the middle of the plate. Otto was ready for him and brought the bat around in a smooth level swing.
Crack!
He could tell he had gotten all of this one. He watched the ball soar high above the field, high above the outfielders. It kept going, clearing not only the fence but the grandstands beyond. Home run! They had won the state championship! Otto trotted the bases, stepping emphatically on home plate. His teammates mobbed him, beating him on the head and shoulders. He smiled.

He felt a light tap on his shoulder. “Otto? Otto? Are you all right?”

It was Betty, standing there with a concerned look on her face. He looked around to see an empty classroom. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“You’d better get to geography. See you after school?”

“You betcha, Betty. See you!”

He watched her walk away, meeting up with a girl from her sixth period class. Otto shook his head and quickly made his way to his next class.

***

The next week at tryouts, Coach Gregory stood at home plate with his bat. “Here it comes, Jones!” A boy Otto did not know crouched in his ready position at short. Otto was next in line at the tryouts.

Coach’s bat came around, and the ball hissed along the grass. Jones ran awkwardly toward the ball, sticking his glove to one side. The ball skidded beneath his glove into the outfield. Gregory shook his head.

“Get in
front
of the ball, Jones!” he yelled. “All right, Kerchner! You’re next!”

Otto pounded his glove and took his stance. Coach hit him a bouncing grounder. Otto charged it, smoothly gloved it on the big hop and threw across his body falling away. His throw popped home in the first baseman’s mitt. “Attaway, Kerchner! Now try this!” He whipped his bat around and a hard liner tore through the air to Otto’s left. He dived toward the ball, laying out parallel to the ground, feeling the ball pull his glove toward the outfield as it made contact. He hit the ground full length, bouncing once, holding his glove up with the ball firmly in the pocket.

“Way to hustle, Kerchner!” coach called out, and then, “All right boys, gather around me.”

When all the players had run in from their positions, Coach Gregory looked around at them. “I will make my choices for the team this evening. Some of you were on the team last year. That does not mean you will be on the team this year. I will post the roster outside my door before school tomorrow. Now hit the showers! Good efforts today!” The boys scattered and the coach tucked his clipboard under his arm. Otto found himself conflicted as he took a shower. He loved working at the airport, but he also enjoyed baseball. He had talked to Wilson about just working Saturdays during the season, which was only twelve games. Now, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to make the team after all. Ah, well, he sighed to himself, he hadn’t made it yet.

***

Otto was glad the bus was early to school the next morning so he could see if he made the team. He went down the long hall that led to the coaches’ offices, his stomach in a knot, not knowing what he was wishing for. There taped to the wall beside the coach’s office door was the yellow sheet titled, “TEAM ROSTER: PIONEER LAKE SUPERIORS,” and there, number six on the list was his name: “Kerchner, Otto, SS.” He had made the team!

As Otto made his way back to his first period science class, he saw Betty at her locker. They had science together, so he went over to her. “Betty! I made the team!”

She smiled her radiant smile. “I’m so happy for you, Otto! When is the first game?”

“It’s in a couple of weeks. We have to practice every school day until then.”

Betty closed her locker, holding her books to her chest. “I’m glad you made it, Otto. I’ll come see you play.”

“That would be swell, Betty,” Otto murmured, and they walked together to science class.

As it turned out, the baseball season was a disappointment. Otto did well, making a number of good plays and hitting .411, but the rest of the players weren’t that good. They lost all their games but one, which was a forfeit because the other team didn’t have enough players. Away games meant long bus rides, and while Otto enjoyed playing, he determined that he would rather be at the airport. Maybe he would play again in the future, but not any time soon. He fulfilled his obligation to the coach, cleaned out his locker and shook hands with Coach Gregory, who looked sad and discouraged. “Will we see you next year, Kerchner?” he asked.

“I don’t know, sir, I’m awfully busy at the airport.” And so, late in May, with school out, Otto worked every hour he could at the airport.

Wilson had hired a flight instructor, a World War I vet named “Sparky” Duncan. He was fond of the bottle, and often as not, Otto would find him asleep in a back room when one of his lessons showed up. Otto roused him, got him a wet towel to run over his face and guided him in the general direction of the plane.

Wilson never said anything about Duncan’s drinking; he even drank with him on occasion. The thing was, Sparky could be unsteady on his feet, but once he climbed into the cockpit, he was as steady as a rock. Otto didn’t get it, but then he didn’t have to. He propped the engine for Sparky and watched him taxi out lesson after lesson.

Wilson had bought a Fleet Model 1 twin cockpit biplane as a trainer, and Sparky stayed busy with lessons. One day, as Otto watched Sparky line up on the runway with another student in the front seat, Wilson came up.

“Say, Otto, would you like to learn to fly?”

Otto couldn’t believe his ears. “Would I! You betcha, Mr. Wilson! But I can’t afford it.”

Wilson chuckled. “Tell you what. I’ll give you one lesson a week instead of paying you until you get your license. Then you can rent the Fleet if you want to fly. Deal?”

Otto reached out and shook his hand. “It’s a deal, Mr. Wilson!”

His first lesson was the next day. Sparky was asleep in the back room, as usual. Otto went in and shook his shoulder. Duncan stirred and opened one eye. “Wha’ is it, kid?”

“Time for my lesson, Mr. Duncan.”

“Lesson? I don’t know nothin’ about no lesson.”

“Mr. Wilson said you would give me flight lessons.”

“OK, then kid, give me a minute.” He raised himself to a seated position and sat there for a long moment with this head down. Finally he stood up, unsteadily. Otto reached out a hand to keep him from falling.

Duncan waved him off. “I‘m OK. Just a little sleepy. Lessee, where’s my helmet? Oh, here it is.” He plucked a dirty cloth flying helmet from the bed and pulled it on. He went to a small cabinet hanging on the wall and took out a cleaner twin. “Here—you’ll need this. Some goggles, too. I think they’re in the airplane.”

Otto followed him as he walked unsteadily toward the hangar. The Fleet stood there in the darkness. “C’mon, boy, help me push it out.” He got on one side and Otto the other and together they pushed on the lower wing until the airplane was outside in the sunlight.

Suddenly Sparky was all business. “OK, first thing is to check your fuel.” He unscrewed a cap in front of the forward cockpit, went back into the hangar and returned with a stick about two feet long. He stuck it in the opening and pulled it out. It was wet nearly its entire length. “See, plenty of fuel.” Otto nodded.

“Next, we walk around the aircraft and make sure everything is still attached.” He and Otto made a circuit of the Fleet. Duncan pulled cables and manipulated control surfaces. When they returned to where they had started, he nodded and said, “Put your helmet on.” Otto complied and Sparky handed him a pair of goggles he had taken from the front cockpit. “Put these on when you get in. Now you prop the engine after I get in.” He climbed up the lower wing and threw one leg over the rear cockpit wall.

Otto knew exactly what to do. He went to the front of the aircraft. “Switch on!” Duncan called.

“Switch on,” Otto returned.

“Contact!”

“Contact!” With that, Otto put both hands on the upper portion of the wooden blade and pulled down hard, backing away as the prop swung through its arc. The engine caught, and Duncan revved it a couple of times. Otto went around and climbed in the front cockpit, putting his helmet and goggles on.

Sparky advanced the throttles, and they moved out to the takeoff zone.

“All right,” he called over the engine. “First, test your control surfaces. Make sure they’re all working like they should. Look around with me.” Otto twisted his neck first to the right and then to the left. He saw the ailerons move on the right wing, and then on the left as the stick beneath his legs moved.

“Put your feet on the rudder pedals but don’t press down. Just rest them lightly.” Otto did so and swiveled his head to the rear of the aircraft. He saw Duncan looking very serious, and, beyond him, the rudder moving left and right as the pedal deflected under his feet.

“Got it, kid?” Duncan shouted, and Otto nodded his head. “OK, here we go. Just put your hands and feet lightly on the controls.”

Otto did as he was instructed and Sparky advanced the throttle. The Fleet bumped out to the end of the runway area. Otto rolled and compacted the landing area regularly, so he was surprised at the unevenness of the field. The airplane thumped and shook as it made its way down the grass.

They reached the place where they would start their takeoff roll.

“Always look at the wind sock and take off
into
the wind,” Duncan instructed. Otto dutifully looked at the long white tube hanging from a pole by the hangar. No wind at all.

“There’s no wind so we’ll just take off from here. When we land, I’ll look at the sock again and land into the wind, if there is any.”

Otto nodded and looked forward. Duncan advanced the throttle and the Fleet bumped over the ground, slowly at first but more and more rapidly. They were moving along pretty fast and it seemed to Otto that the airplane was growing lighter as if it wanted to lift off the ground.

He felt the stick move back and the aircraft smoothly lifted from the ground, all vibration gone, and they climbed into the sky. Otto wanted to shout for joy as they gained altitude. He looked back and saw the hangar and office growing smaller and smaller. Wilson came out of the office and waved at them. Otto waved back.

The silver aircraft banked to the right. Farmland lay all around them, different shades of green in the slanting afternoon sun. Otto saw their farm and the cattle calmly grazing. He remembered when the noise disturbed the herd, but they had made the adjustment and didn’t even look up as they flew over.

So this was real flying, Otto thought. He had dreamed about what it would be like for so long, and now he was doing it and it was even better than he imagined. It was like he was floating and free, up there with the clouds and birds. It was a wonder that anyone ever wanted to land.

The wings seemed to reach out for the horizon and Otto felt as if he could hold his arms out and touch the horizon on either side. There was nothing between him and that distant line, and he reveled in the sense of freedom and release.

Sparky straightened them out and shouted to Otto, “You take the controls. Just try to keep her straight and level and right-side-up.”

Otto grasped the stick more firmly. He felt the airplane nudge over to the right and brought the stick back to the left. The craft lurched to the left and he corrected to the right, this time skewing in that direction. He could hear Duncan laughing behind him.

“Just a gentle touch, kid. This ain’t no cow you have to push on to get her to move.”

After a few minutes Otto was able to hold the airplane in a reasonably straight line.

“Look down, kid,” exclaimed Sparky. Otto did, and gasped. The ground was a lot closer than it had been. “You’ve got to watch your altimeter or you’ll fly right into the ground. I have the controls.” Otto felt his stick move with authority as Duncan pushed the throttle forward and they climbed for altitude. He wracked the Fleet around in a hard turn that had them practically standing sideways on their wings. Otto looked down at the ground sliding by. His stomach heaved.

Sparky straightened the ship out and lined up on the field. He cut the throttle and they glided in on a smooth line for the landing area as if they were on a rail.

Otto watched the ground tilt toward their craft, and Duncan pulled back on the stick just before they would have flown into the ground. The ship stalled just above the ground and settled with a single bounce on the grass. Then they were rolling, slowing until they were moving along at a walking pace. Sparky pressed part of the right rudder pedal that controlled the brake on that side and the airplane turned toward the hangar. He advanced the throttle and soon they were parked in front of the hangar. Otto climbed out of the cockpit.

“Now, that last little bit right before we landed is called a flare,” Sparky told him. “You stall the aircraft right above the ground; it quits flying and if you do it right, you settle to the runway nice and easy. I bounced it once, not too bad, but a good landing don’t have no bounces.”

Otto nodded, speechless from what he experienced.

“Normally you don’t want to stall, but landing’s a special occasion. I’ll show you how to recover from stalls next week. Now help me push this thing into the hangar.”

Duncan took one wing and Otto the other. Together they moved the silver craft back into the darkness of the hangar.