by M. L. Maki
TRAIN STATION, LURAY, VIRGINIA
Diggs walks up to the ticket grill, “When is the next train north?”
“Six fifteen tonight, sir.”
“Where am I?”
“Luray, Virginia, sir.”
He buys a ticket and walks to a bench. “That fucking whore. That fucking bitch.”
A woman coming out of the station with her young daughter glares at him, “Sir!”
He looks at the sky, “My apologies, ma’am.”
TRAIN TO TENNESSEE
Sam looks out the window as the train pulls out and sees Diggs on the platform. She takes a deep breath and smiles. She picks up her book, then stops, thinking, “I know who my adversary is. In a way, that’s a gift.” She opens her book.
As the train rattles south, people walk into her car to gawk. Many stop to say “Thank you.” Mostly she’s left alone.
Finally, she hears the announcement, “Knoxville.”
Sam grabs her bags and steps off the train. She looks around and heads into the station to the ticket counter. Without looking up, the clerk says, “Next train north is in the morning. One more south bound at six pm. Read the schedule.”
“Sir, how do I arrange ground transport? I’m trying to get to Stone Mountain.”
He looks up, “Um. Ma’am. Sorry. There’s a bus service that runs twice a day from here. The next one is in three hours. Honored to meet you, ma’am.”
“Thank you. May I leave my bags behind the counter? I’m going to get something to eat.”
“Yes, ma’am. Here, let me help you. They’ll be nice and safe.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”
She walks out and finds the bus stop. She sees a café a half a block down the street and heads to it. When she walks in, at first, there is silence. Then the people stand and applaud. She turns red, “Thank you.” She finds a seat at the counter, “May I have a menu?”
“Of course, Commodore. Are you going home?”
“Yes, but the bus isn’t for three hours.”
An older man in coveralls says, “I’ll be driving right by there. I have a load of machine tools I’m taking to Atlanta. I can take you right up to your door.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“It’s nothing. My name is Sid O’Hara.” He puts his hand out.
She takes his hand, “Thank you, Sid.”
DOWNTOWN MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA
1010, 25 October, 1942
John Hunt walks with the other company officers through the downtown. John, “Some of these old buildings are a sight.”
2nd Lt. James Baker, a new officer, says, “What we need is a bar with girls.”
Hunt, “This early? Count me out.”
Baker, “Are ya married?”
“No, but I marry an American, not an Australian.”
Baker, “Hell. Who said anything about getting married?”
Captain Portman, “We’re guests here, Baker. Get yourself under control before a father with a shotgun makes you get married.”
They pick a pub and walk in. Juke box music plays in the background and there is a handful of patrons, mostly Australian Army.
HUNT FARM, STONE MOUNTAIN, TENNESSEE
1732, 24 October, 1942
Good to his word, Sid O’Hara drops Sam off at the farm. “Thank you so much, Sid.”
“Ain’t nothin’. Enjoy your vacation.”
“Thanks again. I will.”
Sam walks to the house carrying her bags, as Sid backs out and leaves. Margaret Hunt steps onto the porch, “You’ve come home! Leigh, she’s home!” She walks off the porch and puts out her arms, “Oh, girl. You’re home. We worried so.”
Sam hesitates than wraps her grandmother up in a tight hug, “Hi, Grandma.”
Leigh Hunt comes out of the barn at a fast walk. He stops and looks at his granddaughter and smiles. “Good. It’s good to see you, Sam.” He picks up her bags, “In the house. Margaret, I’m thinking coffee and some food. She looks all in.”
Margaret, “Yes. Samantha, you’re nothing but skin and bones.” They go in and Leigh takes Sam’s bags upstairs. Margaret puts on the pot for coffee and digs into the refrigerator. Dinner is cooking on the stove, but she sets a cold fried chicken thigh and some potato salad on a plate and puts in front of Sam. “Eat.”
Sam smiles, “I can wait for dinner. It smells delicious.”
“Dinner is a half hour away. Samantha, you’re too thin. You felt so fragile.”
Sam eats. “You and Cooper would get along just fine. He was my yeoman. He was constantly feeding me. I just burned it off.”
“Samantha, here we’ll put some meat on your bones. How long do we have you?”
“Twenty days. Then it’s Michigan and New York for weddings.”
“Yours, dear?”
“No. Friends.”
Leigh comes back down, “You didn’t get married to that British fella, did you? We heard about that date.”
“No, Grandpa. We’re just friends. He asked me for a date in the air during combat. It was just banter, but I said yes. Britain turned it into a huge event. By the time we actually had time for a date, he was already seeing someone else. And…and I’d found a boyfriend.”
Margaret, working on dinner and listening, “Who?”
“His name is Jeremiah Buford. He’s a naval officer and a combat swimmer. We’re trying to keep it quiet because it’s brand new, and I significantly outrank him.”
Leigh, “Where’s he from?”
“Montana. He grew up on a ranch.’
“So, he knows horses.”
“Said he grew up on one.” She grins, “He rides western.”
Margaret, “That’s all right. We can civilize him.”
DIGGS HOME
2050, 24 October, 1942
Quincy Diggs goes up the steps of his home, his head down, shoulders drooping, and his pace slow. He goes in and hangs his hat and coat. Mrs. Diggs meets him in the hall, “What in the world happened to you? You’ve missed dinner.”
He looks at his wife, “Commander Hunt happened. Russell wanted me on the train to Tennessee with her. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“Why would he want you to do that?”
“He wanted me to find out what kind of a person she is.”
“Well.”
“She’s strong and smart. Unfortunately, she’s also very observant.”
“Come into the kitchen. Did you talk to her?”
He follows her in and she puts a hot cup of coffee and a plate of food on the table. “I did. I…I lied and she saw right through it. Darling, she’s a killer. She looked at me like I was already dead.”
“You’re just tired. Now sit down and eat. You’ll feel like yourself in no time.”
HEADQUARTERS, NAVAL AMPHIBIOUS BASE, CORONADO, CALIFORNIA
0800, 25 October, 1942
Lt. JG Jeremiah Buford knocks, then enters Captain Issa’s office.
Issa, “How can I help you, Romeo?”
“Sir, I would like to travel to Tennessee.”
“Why?”
“Sir, Commander Hunt is on leave.”
“Is that why Triage named you Romeo? No. Absolutely not. She deserves better than you. Dismissed.”
“Sir, isn’t that for her to decide?”
“Dismissed.”
HUNT FARM
1152, 25 October, 1942
Sam walks down stairs wearing blue jeans and her uniform boots. “I’ve got to get some riding boots.”
Margaret, “Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”
Sam smiles, “Yeah, I did. Sorry I slept in.”
“You needed your sleep. And now, you need to eat. She puts a cup of coffee, a ham sandwich, two chocolate chip cookies, and a glass of milk on the table. Margaret sits down with a cup of coffee and watches Sam dig in, smiling. “Now, my dear, may I ask a favor of you?”
Sam washes a bite of sandwich down with milk, “Of course, Grandma.”
“Well, dea
r, that’s it. I feel entirely too young to have an adult grandchild. Could you please call me Margaret?”
Sam chuckles, “Sure. No problem. I might slip now and then, but sure. Does grandpa want to be called Leigh?”
“He actually likes it. So, he’s grandpa. He’s training right now. What do you plan for today?”
“I want to ride. I miss it.”
“Good. Let Leigh choose. He’ll want to evaluate your skills.”
Sam finishes her meal, puts her dishes in the sink, and gives Margaret a hug. Outside, Leigh is working a blue roan mare in the training yard. She watches him putting her over the jumps. When the mare has completed the course, he brings her over to Sam, “This is Sprinkles. She’s nine and calm and easy to ride. I want to see how you do.”
“Yes, sir.” She takes Sprinkle’s head in her hands, firmly stroking her. “Hey, Sprinkles. I’m Sam.” Then, she takes the lead and unclips the lunge line. “I’ll get her saddled, Grandpa.” Leigh follows her into the barn and watches as she expertly saddles the horse and puts on her bridle. She leads the mare out and steps into the saddle, settling in, her back straight. “It’s been so long.”
“You haven’t forgotten. You need proper boots. We’ll take care of that later. Take her out. I suspect you both need it.”
Sam turns Sprinkles and goes through the gate to the pastures, leaning down to open and close it. A yearling filly runs up to them and dances. “Hello, little one. Is this your dame?” Smiling, she rides along to the brook that cuts the farm and follows it to the old swimming hole. “It’s just the same.”
She strokes Sprinkles on the neck, loosening the reins so the mare can crop the grass. She feels contentment steal over her, loosening the tightness in her body. She looks out at the land of her childhood, “Home. I have a home.”
AIRCRAFT MAINTENANCE HANGER, NAS PATUXENT RIVER
1520, 25 October, 1942
The maintenance crew are working on Spike’s jet. The wings are removed and disassembled. The ailerons and rudders are on a rack. The canopy and ejection seat are out, along with the radome and radar assembly. The engines are out and on platforms. Major Pettigrew walks in, “Who’s in charge here.”
A Navy senior chief walks over, “How can I help you, Major?”
“Is this skeleton going to be ready to fly in three weeks?”
“Yes, sir. This aircraft has been through hell, sir. We were instructed by Admiral Lee to give it a major over haul.”
Pettigrew, “I want all the original parts on it. I’m telling people it’s the original plane.”
The chief stares at him, “Sir, most of those parts are gone. It’s been re-winged twice. All the control surfaces have been replaced at least once. The ejections seats have been replaced. All the actuators have been replaced. Sir, this aircraft has been in combat for ten months. We must inspect the entire bird and replace a great deal of it for it to be safe to fly.”
“She flew it here.”
“Yes, sir, but it’s a miracle it got here, and we have our orders.”
“Are you repainting it?”
“Yes, sir. It’s being painted in the Black Knights colors.”
“I want a flashy paint job. It’s flown by a woman, so paint it pink.”
“Sorry, sir. We have our orders straight from Admiral Lee.”
“God damn it! I’ll talk to him.”
CHILTON, TEXAS
1550, 25 October, 1942
Thud gets off the bus onto a dusty street in the tiny town of Chilton, Texas. He’s carrying two heavy bags and is in his aviation greens. He looks around at the small town of his youth. It has a service station, a bar, and four churches. “Home.” He walks into the service station.
An older man in bib overalls spits into a spittoon, “Can I help you?”
“I need a ride out to the Jackson farm.”
He looks closer at Thud, “You that pilot feller that came back in time?”
“I am. I’m home on leave.”
“Well, shit howdy. Gas is rationed, but it ain’t far. I can give you a ride.”
“I know. I’ve been here before.”
“When was that?”
Frank smiles, “Last time was 1988.”
“I’ll be darned. Come along to the tow truck. I’ll run you out.”
“Aren’t you working?”
“I am, but it can wait.” He puts a sign in the window and takes Thud out to his family’s ranch.
When they get there, Thud gets out and grabs his bags, “Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you for killing all them krauts.”
Thud shakes his hand and watches the truck leave. He turns back and looks over the farm. The house is smaller than he remembers, and the trees are way smaller. The farm isn’t in great shape, but it’s home. An older man walks out of the barn, wrench in hand. Thud recognizes his great grandfather, Bill Jackson. Then his great grandmother, Janice walks out onto the porch. They look at each other, then Thud walks up to his great grandfather, “Hello, sir. I’m your great grandson, Frank Jackson.”
“I figured. Come on in. Mother, put the pot on.”
Thud picks up his bags and follows them in, putting them next to the door. The fire in the kitchen stove makes the house a little too warm. There is only oil lamps and a pump on the sink. Being close to the Brazos River means there’s water.
Janice sets a pot on the stove, then turns to Frank, “Let me have a look at you. Yep, I can see that Jackson stubborn.”
Frank smiles, “Yes, ma’am.”
They sit at the table and Bill asks, “What’s the connection?”
“Your son, Hank, survives the war, or at least he did in my history. He met my grandmother at a train station in Shreveport. I guess it was a fairly quick courtship. One of those love at first sight things. Anyway, my father was born in 1946. He went to Texas A&M on a ROTC scholarship and joined naval aviation. He served three tours in Vietnam and shot down three enemy aircraft.”
Bill nods, “Where did you grow up?”
“Here, sir. Well, grandpa and grandma lived here. Mom and Dad lived in Waco. Mom’s grandparents live up in Decatur. I’ll be spending time with them, too.”
“Where did you learn to fly?”
“Mom and Dad. They are, well, they were both fantastic pilots. I can’t remember my first flight. I was too young. The first time I remember being at the controls, I could barely see over the cowl, and I couldn’t reach the pedals. I soloed at thirteen and earned my pilot’s license at sixteen.”
Janet pours them cups of strong coffee, “Here you go.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“So, how much do they pay you for each kraut you shoot down?”
Frank smiles, “Sir, they don’t pay per kill. I’m paid three hundred and six dollars a month as a commander.”
Bill, “A month? The tax payers pay that much so you can have a fancy uniform and strut around?”
Thud looks at him, startled, “Yes, sir.”
“Now I see why you do it. It’s lucrative and a fine site better than scrapping a living off this ground.”
“Sir?”
“So, what have you done with all that money? Probably wasted it frivolously, if your anything like kids today.”
“Sir, most of it’s in a bank in Washington, DC.”
“A bank? Worst place in the world. Now, were you me, I’d buy property. Land is the only investment that will never fail you.”
“I was thinking of helping out a bit here. You know, bringing in electricity, put in proper plumbing and a toilet. You know, a septic system.”
“Not a lick of that would make you a penny. Now, a tractor, or a stock, that’s an investment. Ain’t no electricity made a man a penny. You’re talking foolish.”
Frank gives him a hard look, “Sir, I know the future because I lived it. I wear my uniform because I earned it. Now, were I you, I would consider that Commander Jackson just might know what the fuck he’s talking about. As for all the frivolous stuff
, it isn’t for you. It’s for Grandma Janice. I remember her. You died long before I was born. Now, I can see why.”
Bill’s jaw drops, “Why…um.”
Frank, “I think perhaps I should go. Could I arrange a ride into town?”
Janice, “William Jackson, you will apologize this instant.”
CHAPTER 15
HUNT FARM
1730, 25 October, 1942
At dinner, Sam’s seventeen-year-old uncle, David, asks, “Can I ask what happens to me?”
Sam meets his gaze, “Sometimes it’s better not knowing.”
“What? Do I become an asshole?”
Margaret, “David, language.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Sam grins, “Okay, before I tell you, you need to know something very important. Just because something happened in my history does not mean it will happen this time. The time line has been dramatically changed.”
David, “I don’t survive.”
Margaret puts out a hand, “David?”
Leigh watches Sam. She nods, “I never knew you. You joined the Army and died in Europe.” Sam puts a hand on Margaret’s arm. “Margaret, everything has changed. The war is taking a very different trajectory.” She looks up at David, “You’re planning to join the Army, right?”
“I was. Now, I think I want to be a pilot like you.”
“Yes, that would be a huge change. Any job in the military is dangerous. There are no guarantees.”
David, “What’s the most dangerous?”
“That’s difficult. During my history of WWII, submarines were among the most dangerous. Working on a flight deck on a carrier is one of the most dangerous jobs on earth. But, being bomber crew over Europe was the most dangerous. We had more than fifty percent losses. This time, the whole strategy is different. It’s a lot less.”
Leigh, “How about your squadron?”
“We had nine killed in the air, and seven seriously wounded. One was captured. This is out of a group of twenty-nine original officers. Among our ground crew, we had twenty-three fatalities and fifty-six injured. We started with a hundred and fifty ground crew. At the end, that number was over a thousand.”
David, “Why so many?”
“At the end, I commanded sixteen squadrons and fifteen ships.”