Spitfire Ringers

by Ian Lindsey

  The Maître D whisked Dylan, Payton, and Timothy quickly to a table since he happened to know the twins stayed under the patronage of the King even though the twins failed to mention it. All three settled in to the fine table in the middle of the room and perused the menu that was printed anew each day. Dylan and Payton again ordered steak since they remained ready to leave at a moment’s notice and didn’t know how long the excellent meals would last. Mr. O’Ryan ordered a simple shepherd’s pie because he knew that even a simple dish would get the special Savoy Grill touches to make it splendid.

  “Thank you kindly for the lunch. I’ve never been in such a fine place.” Timothy said. “I’ll try not to run up your tab too much!” He finished with a laugh.

  “Well, actually our bill is covered, so don’t hold back on account of us.” Payton answered a little sheepishly.

  “Your kind friend must be the King to lavish you two like this. It’s good to be friends with his friends!” Timothy exclaimed.

  “He’s something like that.” Dylan said with a slight grin, but trying to conceal the truth. “Tell us about yourself, Ireland, and how you left the land of your blessing.”

  “I guess you could say I work in shipping, as a sort of the family business, and that’s why I’m in London. My father is a distributor of fine spirits and wine in Dublin, so I handle the procurement and handling of the merchandise until it reaches his warehouse back home.” Timothy explained.

  “So we’ve made friends with a liquor smuggler.” Payton said matter-of-factly, hoping that he’d correctly read the tell tale words that Timothy used.

  “That you have.” Timothy said plainly with no shame. “And you’re sharp to pick up on it so quickly; most folks wouldn’t have understood what I just said. I don't mind telling you, as I don’t think a couple of Americans will get me in any trouble.”

  “You’re right that we won’t get you in to any trouble. We’ve got our own secrets as well.” Dylan said with a little bit more reserve.

  “At least you can trust a man who has his own secrets. I’ll drink to that.” Timothy raised his glass, gaining the confidence of Payton and Dylan even if he was a smuggler. At least he was affable and unapologetic of his place in life.

  “You don’t seem to mind being called a smuggler.” Dylan noted.

  “We just run booze so as not to pay the taxes. It’s an age old Irish tradition. At first it was to avoid paying taxes to England, and now that Dublin is its own government we just do it to be stubborn.” Timothy explained further. “We don’t get mixed up in anything more dangerous than whiskey, champagne, and wine. We don’t run beer because Guiness can’t be beat anywhere else in the world. Whiskey does okay for us, but Bushmills is hard to beat as well. We make most of our money running wine and champagne in from France. We can sell it a little cheaper to the bars and hotels this way, and we make a decent living doing so. Everyone does it, and most of the time big brother turns a blind eye. They’ve bigger things to worry about up north.” He finished by referring to the Protestant Northern Ireland that was still controlled by the British. The Irish Republican Army and a host of other militant groups made Northern Ireland a bloody place for the British as they wanted to throw the English off the whole island.

  “But why are you in London, then?” Payton asked.

  “It’s easier to make deals here with the French. I make most of my arrangements here and then sail for France from a variety of places. We usually return in Northern Ireland where we can pay off the inspectors and then haul the stuff discretely across the border in to the south. The Irish inspectors in Ulster don’t much care for the British either, so they don’t mind taking a small cut to let us through.”

  “How often do you go to France?” Dylan continued with his brother’s line of questioning.

  “Every couple of weeks seems like. But I’d guess we’ll go as much as possible at the moment to get out everything we can before the Germans run over the place. I think we sail from Dublin next, in about a week.” Timothy explained, happy to discuss it with the twins. Most of the time the young Irishman could not talk about his business except with his father, so the opportunity to blow off steam and talk about what he really did helped ease whatever stress he felt. However, to look at his easy going manner one could not easily see any stress on the affable lad.

  As the meal arrived the twins let the subject die for the moment. The talk turned back to sport as the three compared notes between baseball, football, soccer and hurling. They laughed as Dylan noted that Hurling seemed like it was a drunken attempt to combine all three of the other sports in to one. Hurling had the large field and goal posts like football, the goals like soccer, and the bat and ball like baseball. The three agreed that Hurling was as rough as football, but without pads, and that baseball required a very difficult combination of precise skills. Each boasted a little of games past, as well as oversold their accomplishments to a small degree. Timothy spoke lively about games played against rival counties while the twins remembered their dominance of the Naval Academy. The talk lasted throughout the meal and in to the dessert course before talk returned to nature of Timothy’s family and its business.

  “Tell us about your father.” Payton said to their new friend.

  “He’s a barrel of a man, not much taller than he is around. He’s worked hard his whole life to provide for my sister and me as well as Mother. He has his moments, but our saintly mother mostly keeps him in line. Pop’s liquor business is well respected around town because he always deals with his clients above board. I know, sounds wrong for someone getting the liquor the way he does, but he keeps an honest relationship and accounting with the people who buy from him, so the respect that.” Timothy said, so obviously hoping to live up to his father one day.

  “Sounds a little like our father. Works hard on the farm to provide for the family, plays fair with those he does business with, and enjoys life to the fullest.” Payton noted. “My best guess is that our fathers would get along just fine.”

  “Indeed they would. Do you have any other family?” Timothy asked.

  “No, just the four of us at home in Oregon. You said you had a sister?” Dylan said.

  “That would be my younger sister Clara. She’s about your age, and a firecracker. I’d tell you to stay away from my sister, but honestly it’s probably best that I warn you off first. She’s ravishing, but she’ll drive any man mad!” Timothy exclaimed with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not sure anyone can handle her. She likes to go out with the boys during the day and play the lady at night. It’ll take a lot to keep up with her, for sure she’s not easily pleased.”

  “I accept your challenge!” Dylan jokingly replied.

  “You’d have to come to Dublin to accept the challenge. She’s still there with my folks finishing up her studies at Trinity College. She’s studying history there, but I suppose Dad put her up to it to keep her busy and away from the business. I think he’s afraid that she’d end up liking the adventure as much as I do.” Timothy said, again smiling to himself for admitting that he enjoyed the life he led.

  “Actually, I wanted to speak with you about Dublin anyway.” Payton said in hopes of taking advantage of the opening. “We told you earlier that we had secrets as well, but now I think it’s time to share why we’re here with you. We aim to get to France and join the French Air Force fighting Hitler. We’ve hit a roadblock, however, in that we can’t seem to get from here to Le Havre despite our best efforts.”

  “Ireland is officially neutral so far, and so is America.” Timothy noted. “I’ve no love for the English, but I’ve even less for the Nazi’s.”

  “And I’m sure a Nazi occupied France would be hard on your wine and champagne importing business.” Dylan added. “I think our aims might align nicely in this case even if they are not necessarily those of our governments at the moment.”

  “You make an easy case sound persuasive. What exactly would you like from me?” Timothy asked with nary a dark undertone. />
  “We’d like to hitch a ride to Le Havre when you sail next week, if you don’t mind.” Payton said breezily.

  “You certainly don’t beat around the bush. Straight to the point it is.” Timothy laughed.

  “We’d happily work for you over the next week to pay our way.” Dylan offered.

  “You don’t need to convince me.” Timothy said. “I’ll be happy for the help and the company traveling to Dublin. Pop might need some convincing, but we’ll see to that when necessary.”

  “Excellent!” Dylan exclaimed with a quick clap of his hands as the frustration at just sitting in a luxury hotel while a war was on lifted from his shoulders. “I wish there was something we could do in return for your help.”

  “Now I’m glad you brought it up.” Timothy said with a rueful smile. “There’s an aristocratic lady here in town that I would very much like to impress. Might you be able to secure a reservation for this evening? I’m sure she’d have some friends along for a triple date I guess you could call it. Nothing wrong with a bit of fun before you head off to fight for the side of right.”

  “I think we can arrange something. Give me a moment and I’ll see what I can do.” Payton said as he excused himself and headed to speak with their acquaintance the Maitre D. Dylan and Timothy continued to chat amiably as they finished the last bits of dessert and waited for Payton to return.

  “Who’s the girl you want to impress?” Dylan inquired clearly aiming at needling Timothy a little bit in good fun.

  “Her name is Simone Courtney, and her father is an Earl of something or other, Crawford I think, up in Scotland. She’s definitely out of my class, but still humors me. At least she is Scottish and not English. My family would never forgive me otherwise.” Timothy said with a sigh. His consistent lack of shame easily avoided Dylan’s good natured ribbing.

  “You’ll forgive my ignorance, but where does Earl land on the scale of titles? All I know is that the King is at the top.” Dylan admitted.

  “The King is a Duke and an Earl and all the rest combined. Otherwise it goes Duke, Marques, Earl, Viscount, and Baron in that order, are the actual peers and the upper level of the nobility. The lower nobles are Baronets, Knights and Dames, and then Esquires. Some titles are hereditary, some are not. Some titles are based in Ireland or Scotland; some are based in the whole United Kingdom. It depends on the title, as well as how and when they earned it. Baronets, for example, were basically created to raise money. James the 1st created the level and sold the titles.” Timothy explained.

  As Timothy finished, Payton approached the two with good news. “We are all set for this evening. The Maitre D has us down for the best table in the house, overlooking the river, for 7:00 pm sharp. I hope you’ve a tuxedo to wear, Timothy. He offered some spare footman tuxes but he didn’t think he had one that would fit you, sorry. We are also in luck, as they have a special guest for the music tonight. The Glenn Miller Orchestra is playing. It should be one heck of a show.”

  “Splendid. I’ll call up Simone and make the arrangements with the ladies.” Timothy enthused. “I’ll bring them around to meet you here at about quarter of seven so we can get a drink in the American Bar first. I’m sure they’ll want to dance, and I’m sure we’ll need a couple drinks to have the nerve to try dancing with ladies of such refinement. I hear they have some excellent drinks there.”

  “Perfect, my friend, we will see you this evening.” Payton finished, genuinely looking forward to the night of fun now that they had made arrangements to get on with their journey.

  Chapter 10

  May 22nd, 1940

  Again with some time to spare before dinner, and having already written to his father of their safe arrival in London, Dylan sat down to compose a report to Lt. Colonel Bradley. He did not presume to write it as a personal letter, but did his best to model it after a military memorandum.

  To: Lt. Colonel Bradley

  From: former Lt. Dylan Anders.

  RE: Findings of trip from America to London and English disposition

  The purpose of this memorandum is to inform the General of relevant notes from the trip my brother and I undertook from Montreal to Southampton by ship, and then on to London by car. We also wish to inform the General of our plans for advancement on to Le Havre.

  There are two notable pieces of information regarding our steam across the Atlantic. The first is that we sailed with the King of England, and had a chance to interact with His Majesty. The King was very courteous and sought our opinion about the regular American’s view on the war. We informed him that we thought the average American would see that Hitler must be stopped and of our opinion that America would eventually join the war. We believe that President Roosevelt feels the same way (though this is speculation) but he must overcome an adverse congress to do so. The second notable event was the necessity to avoid a Uboat attack in transit. Should America be required to ship massive amounts of arms and men across the Atlantic then the Uboats must be destroyed to protect shipping lanes and the Allies must maintain control of the seas.

  Furthermore, we were failed by Colonel Sweeney in that he had no way for us to get to France. We have made contact with an Irish national that imports wine from France and makes regular shipping runs there. We will travel to Dublin with him and attempt to cross the English Channel in his company. Will advise once we have reached France.

  Payton, on the other hand, took the opportunity to write Anne back in Canada.

  Dear Anne,

  I hope that this letter finds you well and having already finished your final exams. You would be pleased to know that we have made it to London and are staying at a hotel where Monet painted. I’ll complete the story, but the King of England has kindly put us up at the Savoy on the river Thames. Between the Ritz in Montreal and the Savoy here we have stayed in some pretty swanky places. I’m not sure we deserve it, but don’t mind staying here either way.

  Our travel from Montreal to England wasn’t a pleasure cruise, but it certainly was interesting. I could not tell you at the time, but we served as extra stewards on The Empress of Britain and the only passengers were the King of England and his royal traveling party. His majesty very graciously spent some time with us and offered to help us in any way he could. He is a fine gentleman and I am pleased to have met him, and he befriended us when he certainly had no reason to do so. I look forward to telling my grandkids about that one day in that no matter how high you climb in life it never hurts to act kindly to others no matter who they are or what they have done in life.

  How are things going in Canada? I hope everyone still feels that this is a war that must be fought. I know the war news here sounds dreadful, but the spirits of the people from the King on down still remain high and they understand the mission they must undertake. Hitler is blazing his way through France and if he is not stopped then it will take years to dislodge him. Propaganda or no, the task remains tall.

  We have only had a slight hiccup in our travels in that we must find our own way to France from here as our arrangements were not as thorough as we’d thought. We’ve just today found a glimmer of hope that we’ll be able to get to France with an Irishman that we’ve made acquaintance with at the hotel. We should strike out for Dublin soon and sail from there to Le Havre. If I can I’ll write you from Le Havre, but don’t be too concerned if mail service is sporadic going forward. Please give our best to Donna as well and tell her that we promise to try and visit Carentan if we get a chance.

  Sincerely,

  Payton

  ***

  As the boys exited the elevator on their way to meet Timothy they walked out looking resplendent in their borrowed attire. Each had beautifully crafted pleated tuxedo shirts and black bowties under white dinner jackets that, fortunately for borrowed clothing, fit them well enough. Both felt they had lucked in to close matches offered to them by the afternoon Maitre D, but in reality the Maitre D had snuck over to the costume department at the Savoy theater next door to help out
his new friends. The only luck involved was that he had picked the right size for the twins out of the masses of costumes available.

  With excellent timing, the twins strolled in to the bar and ordered drinks just as Timothy and three exquisite young ladies entered behind them. Timothy walked as tall as any man as he swept in to the luxurious bar with such beauties surrounding him. Most men in his position would feel the same, and his sly grin certainly confirmed his feelings. The three beauties on his arm were each a different level taller than him. The first stood barely above him and minus the high heeled shoes probably fell below him. The other two were at least two inches taller than Timothy with or without high heels. The taller two were also obviously sisters. Timothy found the twins at the bar and introduced everyone.

  “Simone, Maggie, and Caroline I am pleased to introduce to you Payton and Dylan Anders, my two new American friends, so we obviously must meet them in the American Bar. Don’t, however, ask me to tell you which is which. Maggie and Caroline are sisters as well, and both very beautiful, but not twins.” Timothy concluded.

  “Ladies, thank you for coming to dinner with us and entertaining we wayward travelers. We have just ordered Manhattans but can surely have the bartender up the order if you would like something to drink.” Dylan offered using his best manners.

  “Why, the pleasure is all ours.” Simone offered as she flashed an engaging smile. The perfectly voluptuous red lipped and white toothed smile only enhanced the striking deep green of her eyes and pulled up blonde hair. She might have been able to light the whole room herself, so it was no wonder that Timothy wanted to impress her. She wore long white gloves as well as a stunning ball gown, red to match her lips, which swooped and clung in all the right places. “What exactly is in a Manhattan?” She asked.