Two Blackbirds (20 page)

Linda turned to Markham, who was lighting a cigarette from the nub of another. “You seem a bit troubled.”

Markham inhaled, then smiled for an instant. “Orders.”

“From who?” Sharon asked.

He tipped back his battered cap, blew smoke, and looked at the ceiling.

“God?” Linda asked.

“Higher than that.” This time, Markham surrendered a smile that revealed his yellowed teeth.

Sharon leaned back and realized that her gnawing hunger was satisfied for the moment. She lifted her coffee cup and drained the contents. “I'll be back in a minute.”

When she returned from the bathroom, the others were waiting at the door. They all went outside into the winter wind and climbed in the back of the waiting truck. This time, Markham sat in the back.

Walter turned to Markham. “How many missions have you flown?”

Markham's eyes went wary. “Two tours. Fifty missions.”

The truck took them to a waiting
A-
26 Invader. Its polished aluminum gleamed despite the hastily applied black and white invasion stripes. The bomber stood poised for flight on its tricycle landing gear. They climbed inside and sat between the wings and the tail. There were small windows in the sides of the fuselage.

Markham went up front. Sharon watched out the window and waited for the engines to start up. She observed as they took off. She felt the wheels lift off the runway. She looked out the window and watched the starboard wheel retract. The Invader climbed with confidence.
Markham knows what he's doing.
Her eyes felt heavy. She closed them for a minute.

She woke up when the
A-
26 touched down at Croydon.

Within ten minutes, they were in a grey-green Cadillac. Sharon sat back and enjoyed the pleasure of thickly cushioned seats. Linda sat next to her, with Walter on the far side. Markham sat up front and began to smoke. Sharon swallowed her nausea and opened the window. “Put that fucking thing out!”

Markham turned, saw the pale ghost of Sharon's face, and flicked his smoke out the window.

It was a short trip to a building with a control tower sticking up like a nose in the middle of a broad face. The driver led them inside and into a private room.

Sharon saw a group of men with stars on their caps. One moved toward them. He held a cigarette in his hand and smiled as he approached. A man with a camera followed closely behind.

“Eisenhower,” Walter said.

Sharon and Linda looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“I wanted to meet the crew that ran away with my airplane.” Eisenhower smiled as he extended his hand. Sharon's stomach grumbled a warning as she shook it.

Eisenhower said, “Thank you for taking such good care of our boys.” He stood between Sharon and Linda with Walter at one end. The cigarette smoke rose up and Sharon gagged. Walter patted her on the back.

“Anything I can do for you?” Eisenhower asked as the cameraman raised his camera.

“I'm feeling a bit under the weather. Would you please put that cigarette away?” Sharon asked.

“Of course.” Eisenhower handed the cigarette to his adjutant.

“Thank you.” Sharon took a deep breath to hold down her last meal.

Linda turned her shoulders and dropped her chin. “Actually, there is something you could do. Walter could use a promotion. You know, he managed to get life-saving medicine for the boys on the plane when we ran out.”

“Walter?” Eisenhower asked.

“Yes, Airman Walter Coleman.” Sharon cocked her head to the right.

Eisenhower leaned forward and looked at Walter. “I thought your name was Washington.”

“A misunderstanding, I'm afraid.” Linda's smile disarmed all males within thirty feet.

“I'll see what I can do.” Eisenhower straightened up, looked at the camera, and blinked when it flashed. “I'm off to Versailles.” He shook their hands again and left ahead of a troupe of servicemen. The three of them were left in an empty room.

Douglas poked his massive head through the open door. “Anyone need a lift?”

Less than half an hour later, they were on finals for White Waltham.

Sharon looked out the window and saw a trio of Jeeps parked along the road leading to the airfield. Each of the Jeeps had a white star painted on its bonnet. Six white helmets were visible, either standing next to the Jeeps or sitting in them. As Douglas taxied up to the hangar, she saw a pair of Canadian military policemen in their red-topped caps. Sharon felt a growing sense of unease. When Douglas shut off the engines, she was the first out the door.

She took in the scene as she walked toward the
MP
s. The policemen were on either side of Ernie. Both towered over him. One had red hair and the other black. Ernie looked from one to the next.

“Hello.” Sharon waited for the heads to turn.

The
MP
s gave her a “mind your fucking business” look.

“I'm Flight Captain Lacey. What can I do for you gentlemen?” Sharon kept her rage in check while she moved in close so that the
MP
s would either have to look down at her or back up a step.

“We're taking Mr. Shane in for questioning,” the black-haired one said.

“Could I see your orders, please?” Sharon asked.

The
MP
s looked at one another.

Keep pushing
, Sharon thought. “Could I have your names and the name of your commanding officer?”

The redhead took a step back.

Sharon moved closer to the dark-haired
MP
. “Names,
CO
, and orders, please.”
You boys have cooked this one up on your own!

The black-haired
MP
looked down at her. “We don't have to answer to you.”

“Oh yes you do,” said Linda. “She's the commanding officer here.” Linda moved to stand next to Sharon.

“Why are you answering to the six American
MP
s parked just down the road?” Sharon asked.

The black-haired
MP
took a step back.

“I want your names and the name of your
CO
,” Sharon said.

The men turned and walked toward a waiting Jeep. Sharon watched them climb in and drive away, then turned to Linda. “Go to the cottage. Milton is there. I'll handle this.” She faced Ernie. “What was that all about?”

Ernie looked at his hands. Linda looked over her shoulder at the departing red caps.

“Go.” Sharon nodded and smiled at her friend. “We'll be fine.” Linda walked toward the dispersal hut.

Walter, Ernie, and Sharon formed a triangle as they stood on the concrete apron just outside the closed hangar door. A chill wind swirled around them. “They said they wanted to ask me some questions.” Ernie stood with his hands in the pockets of his grey coveralls.

“What kinds of questions, exactly?” Sharon felt hunger gnawing at her stomach.
Does this baby ever stop being hungry?

Walter stuffed his hands in his jacket. Ernie shrugged.

“Were they asking about Beck?” Sharon felt the cold on the back of her neck and pulled up the collar of her sheepskin jacket.

Ernie nodded. Sharon waited. Walter hunched his shoulders against the cold.

“No more killing,” Sharon said.

“What?” Ernie's eyes opened wide. Walter stared at Sharon.

“You heard what I said. I'd like an answer.” Sharon looked from Ernie to Walter. “I'm not asking about details. I think I know those already. Someone put motor oil in the brake fluid reservoir of Beck's Jeep. The American
MP
s know it. That's why they're after the pair of you. All I want to hear is that there will be no more killing.”

Ernie looked at the ground. Walter did the same.

“Well?” Sharon asked.

“No more killing,” Walter said.

“No more killing,” Ernie said.

“It's cold as hell out here.” Sharon walked up to the dispersal hut with her hands in her pockets. She opened the door and spotted Mother. “Well, what else did I miss?”

“How much weight did you lose?”
Sharon looked at Milton, whose face was definitely thinner. She looked closer. His clothes appeared to be at least two sizes too big on him.

Milton smiled. “Almost twenty-five pounds.”

“You can count his ribs. He definitely needs some fattening up.” Linda tapped Milton on the arm.

So you've been counting his ribs,
Sharon thought.

“How about supper? My treat.” Milton reached for his jacket.

“I've been craving a good feed of fish and chips.” Linda looked at Sharon.

Sharon tapped her belly. “Count me in.”

They drove into Maidenhead to a small shop with whitewashed exterior walls, a low roof, and the best fish and chips Linda had been able to track down.

I hope the smell of fried food doesn't make me sick.
Sharon sat down next to Linda while Milton went to order. “What happened to him? How did he get back?”

Linda nodded in Milton's direction. “I'd like to hear him tell it again.”

Milton sat down and put his hand on the back of Linda's chair.

“Well?” Sharon asked.

“Well what?” Milton smiled.

“What happened, and where have you been?”

Milton looked at Linda. “You want to hear this again?”

Linda nodded.

“We were on patrol near Wiesbaden. I was arse-end Charlie. One moment I was flying along, scanning the sky. There was an explosion. I pushed the stick hard over. Kicked opposite rudder, spun down to twenty thousand feet, recovered, and took stock. There were several holes bigger than my foot in my starboard wing.

“The controls appeared to be fine, so I headed for home. I tried to raise my section leader, but there was no reply on the radio, and my instruments were acting up. The engine temperature was rising.

A bell pinged. Milton turned around and saw that their fish and chips were ready. Linda and Sharon got up.

“My treat.” Milton stood up and brought over three baskets of fish and chips.

Sharon took a chip from her basket, popped it onto her tongue, then opened her mouth and inhaled as soon as the heat touched her tongue.

“Go on,” Linda said to Milton.

“I knew where I was, but as the engine temperature kept rising, I knew I'd probably have to bail out or crash-land before I could get home.” Milton picked up a chip, blew on it, and popped it into his mouth. “I throttled back and hoped the engine would last a little longer. The temperature went into the red. The engine started to make a banging sound, so I feathered it, shut it down, and glided to ten thousand feet. There were trees below, so I pushed back the canopy, undid the harness, bailed out, and landed in a clearing somewhere near Schleiden — near the German border with Belgium.” He took a piece of fish in his fingers and held it up like an exhibit. “After two days of walking, I was dreaming about food.”

“You walked all the way back?” Sharon heard the disbelief in her voice. She watched to see if her words stung Milton.

Linda poked her arm. “Watch it!”

“Don't worry. I thought people would find it hard to believe. I knew I was eighty miles from my base. I had warm clothes and didn't have to worry about water. I had a bar of chocolate, a map, and a parachute. I figured I could walk ten miles a day.” Milton picked up another piece of fish. “This tastes wonderful. I can't get over how easy it is to get food here.”

Sharon munched on the end of a fillet.
It does taste very good.

“I was in the woods and walked as far as I could the first night. I wanted to get as far away from the wreck as possible. My grandfather's words kept coming back to me. He always said, ‘Bullshit baffles brains.'”

“What did he mean?” Linda asked.

“He meant that I knew where I was, and I knew where I needed to be. All I had to do was walk to where I needed to be. All of the rest — the Germans, the lack of food, being alone, being shot down, the odds against me — was bullshit.” Milton stuffed the remainder of the fish in his mouth.

“How come the Germans never caught you?” Sharon picked up a chip.

“Every morning, I'd pick a spot — usually on a hill — where I could see what was going on and plan the next night's trip. I'd wrap myself in the parachute and watch. Because there was snow on the ground and the parachute was white, I knew I was hard to spot. I also stayed off the roads and away from people. Then, at night, I would walk with the parachute wrapped around me. I'd take the route I'd planned out during the day. Sometimes I'd find a bit of food along the way.” Milton looked at the remaining chips in Linda's basket. “Are you going to eat those?”

Linda looked at Sharon. Sharon got up and ordered some more chips.

“Did you want these?” Milton looked at Linda while eating a chip.

“Go ahead. Tell us what happened after that,” Sharon said.

“When I started to hear heavy guns, I knew I was close to the front lines.” Milton ate the last of Linda's chips.

Sharon stood up to get her order. She returned, sat down, looked at Milton, and said, “Half for me and half for you. Now, how did you get through the lines without getting killed?”

“I spent a day on a hill that looked down over a road. It was overlooking the front lines. I could hear small arms fire.” Milton took a chip and popped it into his mouth. “The sun was high in the sky when the Nazis began their retreat. There were soldiers sitting on the tanks. So many soldiers that some of them had to stand and hold onto the gun on the tank. The half-tracks were filled with soldiers, too. I was watching them and wondering how soon the Americans would be following them up the road.” Milton went to pick up another chip, then stopped.

“You didn't tell me this before,” Linda said.

His eyes adopted the thousand-yard stare. “About six Typhoons caught the Germans on the road. The soldiers scrambled off of the tanks and ran into the trees. The Typhoons worked in a figure eight so that while one Typhoon attacked, there was another one getting lined up to fire its rockets or its cannons. One of the rockets hit a tank. The tank started to burn and the crew tried to get out. One guy was on fire. He tumbled out and fell onto the ground. Another guy was halfway out of the turret when the flames boiled out around him. He fell back inside. I've been on strafing runs like that, but I was never close enough to see what happens to the people on the ground. Some of the soldiers were hit by cannonfire. What was left looked more like hamburger than men.”