The cloud suddenly dwindled and disappeared as if it were a green handkerchief pulled back through a hole in the sky.
“It’s always appeared at noon before,” Glinda said. “Why should it come just before dawn now?”
Hank did not reply.
“Could it be that it’s been small enough not to cause much notice?” she said. “But they don’t know that people couldn’t help seeing something that big during the day? So they’re conducting their tests before many are up and about?”
“I suppose so,” he said.
He was awakened at dawn again the next day. Mizdo had just entered the suite, but he had been yanked from a sound sleep a few seconds before. Horns were blaring, drums were pounding, and now through the opened door came the yells and shouts of many and the slap of feet against the floorstones.
“What now?” he roared at Mizdo.
“Flying machines! Many of them!”
Breathing heavily after his dash to the top of the highest tower, Hank watched the aircraft as they emerged from the green cloud and headed towards the castle. By the time he had gained the top, the lead planes were circling over the castle. The first to arrive were two Thomas Morse MB-3As, pursuit biplanes. These would be armed with two .30-caliber Colt-Browning machine guns.
Behind them were three D.H.4B two-seater scout and light bomber biplanes just like the one which had crashed.
And behind them were three D.H. biplanes. Airmail carriers!
The Air Service must have brought these in to transport supplies and ammunition. Each had a mail load capacity of 550 pounds.
Here came a Dayton Wright Model FP-2, a twin-float two-engine biplane specially built for the Canadians, who used it for patrolling forests. Had the Army borrowed or rented it?
The FP-2 normally carried a crew of four, but Hank supposed that it was jammed with soldiers and equipment now.
Here came a Loening Air Yacht, a flying boat. It carried four passengers and a pilot, but the passengers would not be civilians this time.
Behind it was an E. M. Laird Company “Swallow,” a three-seater Curtiss land biplane.
And behind it was an Orenco Tourister II four-seater commercial biplane.
Glinda arrived then. Her short legs had not been able to keep up with Hank’s, but she was in better condition than he. She was not breathing hard.
“What do you think they’re going to do?” she said.
Hank walked to the other side of the tower and pointed to the northeast.
“See that lake and the big treeless meadow by it? I bet they’re going to land there. The seaplanes will land in the lake and the land planes on the meadow. They’ll set up defenses there, their base. There’s a road there and embankments by the ditch along the road. On the other side of the meadow is a grove of trees. They’ll cut down trees and make some sort of log wall behind which they can shoot from. The lake will protect one side; the embankment, another; the logs, the other two.”
“And I suppose that some of those flying machines will stay in the air and protect them from attack there.”
“Probably while the other planes are landing. After that, I don’t know.”
An Elias Commercial biplane had joined the widening circle. It was powered by two LeRhone eighty-horsepower engines and had three cockpits. The pilot was in the front, two passengers in the middle, and one in the rear.
Hank was beginning to understand what the Army had done. It had not pulled out squadrons from one unit or base field. It had plucked one craft from here, another from there. And it had arranged to borrow, lease, or rent some commercial craft. That eleven-passenger Aeromarine Airways, Inc. Flying Cruiser, for instance. The Army must have made secret arrangements to obtain one for a short period and had flown it to near Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, where it would have landed in the Missouri River.
Here came another commercial craft, the Huff-Daland “Petrel,” a three-seater.
He wondered why the planes were circling above the castle. Was it to frighten the inhabitants? If so, they were doing a good job. Everybody except Glinda was obviously upset. And down below, on the farms and in the towns, everybody was staring upward. If it had not been for the roar of the engines overhead, he would have heard the cries of the mob.
Now the two pursuits were peeling off and heading, as he had expected, toward the meadow. Others followed them, one by one, as new arrivals entered the southern side of the circle.
The pilots had had more in mind than just shaking up the Quadlings. They had also wanted their passengers to get a good view of the castle and the layout of the land around it and to check them against the maps he had sent. If they attacked, they wouldn’t be doing so blindly.
Hank shook his head. “I can’t believe it!”
“What?” Glinda said.
Hank pointed. “Ten Jennies. No, eleven. No, twelve!”
Shortly thereafter, he counted a total of twenty, When they banked to circle, he saw that ten carried a soldier each in the front cockpit and ten had seemingly empty front cockpits. He was sure, however, that these held weapons, ammunition, and other supplies.
“It’s a big operation,” he muttered.
Glinda, standing close to him, looked up.
“I could order an attack,” she said. “I’ve made plans for just such a situation. But I wish to find out just what they intend to do first. You’ll have to interpret.”
Hank said, “As you wish, Glinda.”
While they went down the stairs, she told him what to say to the invaders’ commander.
“Stress that they cannot leave the meadow except to return to Earth. I will not have them spreading disease. If they do leave the camp, they’ll be attacked. Don’t be diplomatic about it. Tell them in plain words, harsh words, if you must. They must not leave the meadow except to fly back. And they must do that as quickly as possible. I will not argue with the commander. He must do as I say.”
“I’ll tell them,” Hank said. “But I don’t know if it’ll do any good. They have their orders, and they’ll carry them out.”
They entered the courtyard and got onto the chariots. Riding out through the gates, Hank saw that the castle guards had been reinforced by the nearby garrison. They had formed a deep rank across the road and were keeping back the mob that had streamed out from the town. Other soldiers were moving the farmers out of the houses between the meadow and the town.
A woods to his right seethed with hawks and eagles. They were waiting for Glinda’s orders.
When the chariots were a quarter of a mile from the meadow, they halted. Glinda said, “This is as close as we’ll come—except for you. Go and talk to them. No, wait. What are your feelings about this, Hank?”
He laughed raggedly.
“How do I feel? We Americans have a saying. ‘My country, right or wrong.’ Most of us, I’m sorry to say, agree with that. But some of us don’t. My Mother taught me that ‘right’ is higher than anything, well, except God; and He’s supposed to always be on the side of right. She also taught me that it’s not always easy to see what’s right and what’s not.
“In this situation... I’m torn, Glinda. I love my country, even though there are a hell of a lot of things wrong in it. I want it to be always in the right, to do right. But it hasn’t always been and isn’t and won’t. Still, it’s the best country, among the best, anyway, that I’ve ever seen or know of.
“Now, though... they’re wrong, dead wrong, to come barging in here like this. They, the authorities, the big shots, have been told what will happen here if they come. They’ll be bringing something far more deadly than bullets. Knowing this, having been told to stay out, they come anyway. Why? Because of greed and fear.
“They’re wrong, Glinda. It hurts me to say that. Worse, they’re evil. They would deny that; they think of themselves as good men, doing what they’re doing for the good of the country. But their thinking is warped.”
“I know all that,” she said. “And more. But just what is your position
in this? Are you for or against me... us?”
“I can’t be a traitor to my country!” he said, a near-wail shaking his voice. “I just can’t!”
“Which is your country?”
“What do you mean?”
“The land you were born in or the land of the right?”
The two seaplanes had landed and taxied near to the shore. Soldiers had poured out of them, sinking in the lake up to their waists. Then canvas boats were unfolded, and these were loaded with boxes and pushed ashore and unloaded and shoved back to the seaplanes to be loaded again.
While the two pursuits circled high overhead, the land planes touched down one by one and taxied to the area near the lake. Soldiers and pilots got out to help remove weapons and supplies from the craft. Hank saw ten .50-caliber and four .30-caliber Browning machine guns and two light mortars. Most of the troops were armed with BARs.
Guards were stationed at the perimeters. Some men were digging latrine trenches, and a large number were chopping at the bases of middle-sized trees.
The last plane, a Jenny, landed and discharged a soldier and several boxes.
A man in an officer’s uniform stood near the embankment, his binoculars trained on Hank’s group. Hank wondered what the fellow made of the tiny people and the moose-drawn chariots. He would be verifying that the natives had no firearms, though he had doubtless been told that. What else had he been told?
One man was operating a movie camera, and two men were setting up radio equipment.
One by one, the planes took off, climbing to about two thousand feet and circling while the others caught up with them.
Hank waited for Glinda to tell him to approach the base, but she seemed to be interested only in watching the procedure. That wise old brain behind that devastatingly beautiful and young face must be considering all possibilities, though.
Presently, the circle above broke up as the planes headed in single file towards the south. The two pursuits, however, dived, turned, and flew towards the Quadlings on the road. They were only fifty feet up as they raced along, and they shot roaring and whistling over the Quadlings. The queen’s troops must have been frightened, but they held firm. Nobody was going to break discipline, not when Glinda was around.
“They could have killed us all if they’d wanted to,” Hank said.
He watched the pursuits pull up and turn towards the others.
“I didn’t think they wanted to,” she said. “Go to them, now, Hank. But don’t touch them. Stay away from them. I don’t wish to quarantine you again.”
“As you wish,” he said, and he walked down the road. When he came to the wooden bridge across the ditch, he turned and crossed it. A guard, a young private wearing the crossed-rifles insignia of the infantry, challenged him.
“Henry L. Stover, late lieutenant of the Army Air Service,” Hank said.
The guard had been informed about him. Not, Hank thought, that he could have been anybody else. Who else in this world stood so tall and spoke English? Except for the invaders, of course.
The guard bawled out a summons to a corporal nearby, and the man came running to escort him to the officer with the binoculars. Hank was surprised when he saw his captain’s bars. He had expected that an expedition of such importance would be led by a colonel at least. The officer, like all the soldiers Hank could see, had no cloth insignia.
Hank stopped ten feet from him and said, “Henry L. Stover at your service, sir.”
The captain was almost as tall as Hank. He was lean and lanky and had a deeply tanned angular face with high cheekbones, pale blue eyes, and straw-colored hair. He did not look over thirty.
“Captain Boone Longstreet,” the fellow said in a deep but rasping voice. The accent was Southern, probably Tennesseean or Kentuckian. “Of the United States Regular Infantry.”
Longstreet advanced towards him; Hank stepped back. Looking puzzled, the officer stopped.
“I have orders not to get any closer than this to any of you,” Hank said.
“Why not, suh?”
“I don’t want to catch anything from you.”
A flush spread out beneath the tan.
“That sounds insulting, suh.”
“It’s not meant to be anything but realistic. These people are wide open to Earth diseases.”
The captain looked startled. Hank thought, Good God, didn’t the brass tell him anything about that?
“Also, of course,” Hank said, “you and your men are very vulnerable to the diseases of this world.”
Longstreet paled. The fellow was a regular chameleon.
Why had he lied so spontaneously? Why? Because he did not want them here. They had no right to be here.
But these feelings did not mean that he was a traitor or ready to be Glinda’s agent for whatever she wanted him to do.
Even so, he felt guilty. Somewhat so, anyway.
“I’d like to know your orders, Captain,” Hank said.
“What? You’re a civilian, suh. You have no need or right to know them. Not all of them, anyway.”
Hank said, “Look, Captain, I’ve been authorized to act as an interpreter and a sort of ambassador at large. Surely, you must know that. I have to know your intentions.”
“I was told I must deal through you. To a certain extent, that is.”
Longstreet stared over Hank’s shoulder. Hank turned. The green cloud was back now, and the planes, which had formed into a circle, were dropping out of it, one by one, and flying into the cloud. As soon as the last disappeared, the haze shrank and was gone within a few seconds.
The sight of that, Hank thought, must make the captain feel alone and isolated. Perhaps, helpless. Or maybe he was attributing some of his own reactions to the man.
Hank had counted seventy-five men, enlisted and officers. That did not seem many, but they must be confident that their rapid-fire weapons and their superior stature were the equivalent of an army of pygmies armed only with swords, spears, and bows.
A number were cutting down trees with two-handled saws. Others were digging a shallow trench near the lake. They meant to erect a three-sided log palisade in front of the trench. The lake would be to their backs.
Hank said, “Captain, would you mind telling me just how much you were briefed on?”
“That is not your concern, suh,” Longstreet said, looking him straight in the eyes. “I have been ordered to tell you my orders, suh, so that you may transmit them to the chief authority of this place.”
Hank pointed at the small but regal figure in the chariot. Her hair shone redly in the sun.
“There she is, Glinda the Good.”
Apparently, Longstreet had never read the Oz books. He looked at her through his binoculars, then lowered them.
“Here’s what you’ll tell this Glinda,” Longstreet said loudly and determinedly. “One, we’re not here to make war unless we’re treated as hostiles. We’re here on a peaceful mission.”
“Yes, looks like it,” Hank said, gesturing at the heavy machine guns.
“You with us or against us?” Longstreet said, but he did not wait for Stover to reply.
“Two, the United States of America is prepared to protect this country against any enemies from Earth.”
At least, the captain knew that he was not in his native universe.
“The United States of America offers its aid against any enemies along its border. It is prepared to make a treaty of alliance with Queen Glinda of Quadlingland and to use its armed forces in her struggle against any and all invaders.”
Hank had expected Longstreet to read from an official letter. But the brass were being cagey. They had issued only verbal orders.
“Three, the United States of America asks permission to establish a base from which its soldiers may operate against the enemies of the Quadlings and which will eventually house diplomats, scientists, and other agents which the United States may see fit to send to Quadlingland, provided, of course, that the reigning authority of Quadlingland a
grees to these. Terms will be worked out at the appropriate time.”
“You can stop right there, Captain Longstreet,” Hank said. “There’s no use wasting time telling me all that. I have a message from Glinda. She told me to tell the commanding officer that you all must get out, leave, scat, scram, immediately. Toot sweet. She won’t confer, discuss, or argue about that. She did not invite you here, and she wants you out. Now! She doesn’t care if your intentions are good or bad. Your mere presence here is a hideous danger, a terrible peril, to the people of this land. After you leave, she’ll have this meadow and the woods along it burned to destroy the bacteria and germs you may have left here. And nobody will be allowed to use the lake for three months. She won’t talk about it, she isn’t open to compromise or temporizing or anything except your instant departure.
A BARNSTORMER IN OZ by Philip José Farmer Page 19