Two Blackbirds (23 page)
“There were fires everywhere, with a terrific concentration in the
centre of the city,” said one Pathfinder pilot.
An
RAF
crew reported smoke rising to a height of
15
,
000
feet.
“How is Reginald doing?”
Sharon stood in one corner of the White Waltham hangar.
Ernie stood beside her with his Popeye arms crossed. “He's just a kid, but he knows his stuff.”
Reginald Kelly stepped through the open hangar door. He was taller than either Sharon or Ernie, his hair was black and he had a longish, royal nose. He wore white surgical gloves.
“Doesn't like to get grease under his fingernails,” Ernie said out the side of his mouth.
“Reginald?” Sharon began to walk toward the nose of the Storch. Ernie followed.
Reginald nodded and walked toward them. “Yes, Flight Captain Lacey?”
“You all set to take over tomorrow?”
He stood at ease with his arms linked behind his back. “I believe so. What is your assessment, Mr. Shane?” Reginald turned his focus to Ernie.
“If you could be a little less fucking formal, things would be just fine.”
Reginald blinked. “My school chums call me Reggie.”
“I'm Sharon.”
Ernie smiled and offered his hand. “That's more like it.”
Reggie peeled off his surgical glove and shook Ernie's hand, then offered it to Sharon. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sharon saw Ernie shake his head. Reggie looked from Ernie to Sharon. “I just meant that you look very healthy. Glowing, as a matter of fact.”
“Well. Thank you, Reggie. I'll be off, then.” Ernie headed for the hangar door. He leaned over and picked up his toolbox. Sharon followed him out. “Let me help with that.”
“Not in your condition,” Reggie said.
“I'll be fine,” Ernie said.
“I'll walk with you.” Sharon dogged Ernie as he went around the side of the hangar to a waiting Jeep. Its springs sagged as the weight of the tools settled into the area behind the seats.
“He has a big mouth, too,” Ernie said.
“What was that all about?” Sharon faced Ernie and saw the red of embarrassment on his cheeks and forehead.
“Some of the pilots were talking. You know what it's like around the hangar. Lots of people gossip, and they think mechanics are deaf.” Ernie shoved his hands into his pants pockets.
Sharon nodded and waited.
Let him fill in the details.
“Couple of lady pilots from Lady Ginette's crowd.” Ernie looked around nervously.
Sharon crossed her arms. “Spit it out, Ernie.”
“Pike and Dixon were talking about you and Walter. How you flew together to the States. And there's been talk that you're pregnant. It was about that.” Ernie looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.
“Oh,” Sharon said.
“I owe you. I owe you for getting me out of here before those crackers could get a hold of me.” Ernie faced her.
“Crackers?”
“That's what Walter and Edgar called the
MP
s. And I owe you because you figured out what happened to Beck and didn't turn me in.” Ernie put his fists on his hips.
“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.” Sharon smiled. “Just make sure that you keep your promise.”
“No more killing?”
Sharon nodded. “That's right. And when you get home, have some saskatoon pie and tell me all about it in a letter. God, I miss saskatoon pie.”
“But what about Lady Ginette's crowd?” Ernie asked.
“What about them?” Sharon leaned against the side of the Jeep.
“They're a nasty bunch. Who's gonna watch your back?” Ernie tapped a forefinger on the metal top of the toolbox.
Sharon looked at the dispersal hut. “You think I can't handle them?”
“I think they're vicious,” Ernie said.
Sharon nodded. “Harry â Michael's father â said I was more than a match for that crowd. I've lived through five years of this war. Don't you worry about me.”
“Where's Milton?”
Sharon asked when she walked into the kitchen at the cottage.
Linda looked up from her cup of tea. Her eyes were red.
“What happened?” Sharon began to feel that familiar tension arriving the moment before bad news is delivered.
“He's gone. They called him back. He starts training on Tempests tomorrow morning.” Linda dropped her chin into her housecoat.
Shit! It seems I'm delivering a Tempest every day to the continent.
The losses are very high.
Sharon put her arm around Linda's shoulder. “Do you want to go out?”
Linda shook her head. “Do you want to know what's especially pathetic?”
Sharon waited.
“I was hoping I might be pregnant, but I found out when I got home that I'm not.” Linda began to weep. She tried to speak and could not.
Sharon held Linda close as her friend's body was ripped by sobs.
Five minutes later, Linda said, “I thought I lost him once. I don't want to lose him again.”
Mother lifted the phone receiver
and held it in the air. He caught Sharon's eye. “Call for you.”
Sharon switched her glass of milk to her left hand and took the receiver with her right. “Lacey.”
“McBride. You busy over there?”
“It's kind of slow for a Saturday. In fact, we're ahead on deliveries for a change.” Sharon took a sip of milk.
“Good. I'll pick you up in thirty minutes.” McBride hung up.
Sharon handed the phone to Mother. He hung it up. “Headed somewhere?” he asked.
“Apparently.”
“It's difficult to adjust to you drinking milk instead of coffee.” Mother smiled at her.
Sharon nodded.
“I also wanted to ask a favour.” Mother crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
Sharon waited.
“I'd like to go along on a trip sometime before the war is over.” Mother began to blush.
“When?”
“When you need an extra pair of eyes or you have room for a passenger.” Mother looked out the window.
“It would be my pleasure. Do you want to come along today?”
“No, not today. What I'd really like is a ride in a Mosquito or a Lancaster.”
“Okay.”
I hope I'll be able to deliver on this promise.
McBride's grey-green Buick with the star on its side drove up exactly twenty-five minutes later. She walked out into sunshine, budding leaves, and songbirds. An American sergeant who wasn't a day over nineteen opened the rear door for her. She climbed into the back seat with McBride.
Colonel McBride smiled. “Something has come up, and I need an expert's input.”
“Where are we going?” Sharon asked as the sergeant climbed into the front seat and drove the Buick away from White Waltham.
“Croydon.”
“Why not fly?”
“It's a pleasant day for a drive, I think. It's only about fifty miles. We should be there in an hour.” McBride pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“Do you mind not smoking, please? I haven't been feeling well.” Sharon watched McBride's reaction.
He stuffed the cigarettes back in his pocket. “A disgusting habit, anyway. My wife says the same thing.”
It took more than an hour to reach Croydon while traveling along English roads through a series of towns along the southwestern edge of London.
When they approached Croydon airfield and passed the guard post, McBride said, “Things have been going well. The ground troops have invaded Germany, Berlin's air defences grow weaker every day, and there hasn't been a rocket attack since last Tuesday in Kent. It looks like we might be nearing the end of the war. I wanted you to see what a German test pilot brought us.”
The sergeant parked in front of a massive white Bellman hangar. The building's wide front doors were closed.
MP
s armed with submachine guns stood at each corner.
Two of the
MP
s saluted as Colonel McBride climbed out of the Buick and led Sharon to a side door. An
MP
opened the door for McBride, and Sharon followed him inside. The door closed behind them.
Sharon's eyes gradually adjusted to the light. Several aircraft were parked inside. One was a Focke Wulf
TA
152 crouching on its wide-stance landing gear. Beside it was a Messerschmitt 262. It was silver with black crosses. The jet reminded Sharon of a shark. “I've heard about these, but I've never seen one.” She walked closer to the jet to inspect the wing and tail surfaces, then the Jumo engines. She stepped up onto the wing and looked down into the open cockpit. She looked at McBride. “This one is a two- seater.”
“A test pilot named Hans Fay defected and landed it at Rhein-Main Frankfurt. I thought you might want to take a look.” McBride stood near the nose of the jet.
“It's fast. Only the Meteor can come close to matching its speed, and we have very few of those.” Sharon studied the controls.
“Do you believe in symbols?” McBride asked.
“How so?” Sharon looked along the nose of the fighter.
“I think this was a symbolic act. Fay knows the war will be over soon. He disobeyed orders and flew this jet to us so that he could be with his family.”
Sharon nodded.
That makes sense.
“This jet is the best the Nazis have, and Fay just handed it over to us. It looks like we can begin to think about what to do when the war is over.”
Sharon looked down at McBride. “Why did you show this to me?”
“My wife and my daughter told me to.” He looked up at her, and she could see that his eyes were brimming with tears.
Sharon went to open her mouth and closed it.
“My son-in-law comes from San Diego. He's a first lieutenant. He was wounded at Bastogne. He lost most of his left arm.”
Sharon had a quick flashback. She saw the smiling face of the young man whose litter was up near the cockpit of the
C
-54.
The soldier who
said he was from San Diego.
“He told my wife and my daughter that the crew that flew them home was unusual. The pilot and co-pilot were women, and the engineer was coloured. He said the pilot threatened one of the wounded men who insulted the engineer. My son-in-law said, âShe gave the biggest asshole in the unit a piece of her mind. We've been reminding him of that fact ever since.'”
“What is his name?” Sharon felt a smile spreading across her face.
“Bill.” There was a tremor in McBride's voice.
“How is he doing?”
“He's back on his feet, and my daughter is smiling again. Bill told them that you wouldn't leave them until they made it back home. That some wing commander told you that the boys would have to wait over night in Goose Bay for a relief crew. But you decided to fly our boys home.”
Sharon nodded and smiled.
“He just got his new arm.”
“That is very good news.” Sharon blinked and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.
“And they said I have to take you out for dinner to say thank you from them. I know a great little restaurant on the way back.”
“Is it okay if we meet Linda there? She was the co-pilot and she needs some cheering up.” Sharon turned to step down off the wing.
“If I could tell them that I took two of the crew out for dinner, it would definitely get me in their good graces.”
“Make sure that you mention you got a promotion and a transfer for Walter. You'll get an even better reception when you get home.” Sharon stepped away from the jet fighter and wondered what would happen to it when the war was over.
Sharon could feel the emotions of shock,
anger, and resolve in the mess the afternoon she returned to White Waltham after the delivery of a Tempest to Volkel Airfield in Holland. She had looked for Milton, but did not see him.
That will be the first question Linda
will ask tonight.
Douglas walked beside her. “Do you want a coffee?”
“I think I'll stick to milk.”
It helps settle my stomach. A full week
without morning sickness. Yes!
“Grab us a seat. I'll get you a glass,” Douglas said.
Sharon looked around and found a pair of empty chairs across from Mother. “Mind if I join you?”
Mother looked up and smiled. “What news do you bring from Holland?”
“Civilians in Nazi-occupied Holland are starving.” She sat down.
I sound as bleak as I feel. Isn't it my job to cheer everyone up?
“Nothing but good news these days.” Mother picked at the mutton and beans on his plate.
Reginald dipped a morsel of bread into his beans. He sat beside Mother. Sharon felt a sudden craving for beans on bread.
Douglas sat down with a cup of tea for himself and a glass of milk for Sharon.
“What news have you heard?” Mother asked.
“Probably the same news you've heard. The Americans liberated some camps with names like Nordhausen, Dora, Buchenwald.” Douglas stared at the bottom of his cup. “The pictures and the stories are beginning to circulate.”
“That's what we're hearing from almost all of the pilots. As our troops move into Germany, they're discovering more death camps. Apparently, there are so many bodies that bulldozers are being used to bury them.” Reginald looked at his plate, then pushed it away.
“At Volkel, there was talk of little else.” Sharon put down her glass of milk. “The people in the camps have to be put on a special diet because they've been starved and can't eat regular food yet.” She noticed Linda pulling up a chair to sit with them.
