By now the other pilots had gathered around Captain Dawson and Lieutenant Fitch. Captain Simms, Lieutenants Gainey and Hyatt and the other members of the squadron all wanted to get a good look at the new kid.
Dawson continued pressing the new recruit about his Spitfire training. A long, awkward moment passed before Fitch reluctantly answered, "Only ten hours, sir. But my instructor certified me as qualified for a squadron."
Dawson rolled his eyes and kicked at the ground, annoyed at being assigned a pilot with so little experience. In a huff, he snapped, "I'll determine who is and who isn't qualified to be a member of this squadron!"
Fitch anxiously held his breath at Dawson's stern reaction. Hoping for a little support, he searched the group of pilots for a sympathetic face, but found none.
"Andy," Dawson called to Captain Simms, "set him up with a headset and parachute. First thing tomorrow we'll take him up for a trial run."
Then Dawson turned back on Fitch, "It's simple, Lieutenant, you make it up there tomorrow and you're in. If you don't, you're out."
At that, Captain Simms gently grabbed the leery young pilot by the arm and pulled him away from the crowded hardstand. "Come along, Lieutenant. Let's get you fitted right. Then I'll show you to your quarters. You can get a good night's sleep in Tate's old bunk. Tomorrow you're going for the ride of your life."
Lieutenant Fitch followed Captain Simms to the supply building to pick up the necessary flight equipment. On the way to his quarters, the nervous new pilot dropped his headset twice while fumbling with the straps to his parachute.
Fitch followed Captain Simms like a dog on a leash for the rest of the day. The young Lieutenant tried his best to join in with the others, but without much success. Even though the pilots all seemed nice enough, they left him feeling a bit unwelcome. The squadron was like a family. For now they considered Fitch an outsider. They had no idea how desperately he hoped to find a home. Still, Captain Simms had a hunch about the new kid. He felt confident that if given a chance, Fitch would fit in just fine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TOO YOUNG
Early the next morning, Harry Winslow and his mother sat at their kitchen table. While Mrs. Winslow poured over the newspaper, Harry reached for the sections she had finished. Practically every page contained an article about the war raging throughout the world. But, Harry was most interested in the stories about pilots and planes, especially ones with pictures for his scrapbook.
Suddenly, Harry blurted out, "Mom, I want to join the Royal Air Force. Everyone says they need more pilots."
Preoccupied with her reading, Mrs. Winslow mumbled, "Yes dear, I'm sure you will someday."
"Mom, I mean now," Harry persisted. "Stuart and I made a pact. We want to join the RAF today. He's going to get his mom's permission and then come over to our house."
Mrs. Winslow slowly folded the paper. Bewildered by Harry's abrupt desire to join the Royal Air Force, she stared at her son.
"When he gets here, will you take us to the recruiting office?" Harry boldly asked.
"Harry," his mother started to explain, "the RAF doesn't allow twelve year old boys to join. You and Stuart can't enlist until you're old enough. I'm hopeful there won't be a war when that time comes."
Harry sat up in his chair. "But that's the whole point, Mom. We want to help while we can."
Mrs. Winslow was proud of Harry's sincerity, but grew frustrated with his refusal to accept the limits of his age. Searching for a way to avoid an argument, she tried making her son feel needed by reminding him, "Harry, while your father is away, you're the man of the Winslow house. Without you, who will tend the farm for me?"
Harry shifted in his seat. He was stumped by his mother's question and lost for a reply. Quietly, Harry returned to the newspaper. The discussion was over and an awkward silence took its place.
A moment later, the thunder of fighter plane engines echoed from the airfield. Harry looked at his mother. His eyes telegraphed his thoughts. He felt embarrassed about not being able to enlist and wanted to get away. Mrs. Winslow simply nodded her permission for Harry to go and see his pilots.
Harry bolted out the door and raced to the airfield. He noticed Stuart and Erin up ahead, walking along the path leading to their favorite place overlooking the hardstand. Seeing Stuart reminded him about their agreement and his mother's refusal to let him join the RAF. Harry slowed down and quietly trailed behind them. He needed some time to figure out the best way to explain his problem.
When Harry finally reached his friends, it didn't take long for him to notice Stuart was in a foul mood. The three children silently trudged the rest of the way to the airfield. Eventually, Harry drew enough courage to tell Stuart the bad news.
"Stuart, I...," Harry stumbled, trying to find the right words.
"Harry," Erin interrupted, "before you say anything, Stuart has to tell you something."
Stuart nervously kicked the ground with the toe of his shoe, unable to speak. At last, he blurted out, "I'm sorry, Harry, my mom won't let me join the RAF with you."
"Stuart," Harry wailed, "my mom won't let me join either!"
The children eyed each other, flabbergasted. But the clumsy moment quickly passed.
"Did she say you're too young?" Erin asked, divulging most of the conversation between Stuart and their mother.
"That's exactly what she said," Harry shouted.
Stuart and Harry playfully shoved each other, drawn together by a common bond.
"I told you both," Erin chimed in, "there's no way our moms would let you join. After all, you're just kids."
The boys stopped their wrestling. Although Erin was right, they desperately wanted to help the pilots of Hampton by joining the RAF and were frustrated by being told they were too young.
Harry, Stuart and Erin continued down the path and finally arrived at the hill overlooking Hampton Airfield. As usual, they settled in behind the hedgerow and watched the crews going about their tasks. Everything seemed routine until an unknown pilot stepped onto the hardstand. The observant children quickly noticed the stranger. Spying over the bushes, they sized up the red-haired recruit. There was something oddly familiar about the young man on the field, and it wasn't his uniform.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FAMILIAR STRANGER
"Look at that, there's a new pilot out on the hardstand," Harry shouted, pointing toward the airfield. "Do you see him? By himself, over there, the one with the red hair."
Both Erin and Stuart nodded their heads and focused on the stranger. Erin found it curious that a new member of the squadron would be left to himself.
"He's new all right, but how do you know he's a pilot?" Erin asked. "None of the other pilots seem to pay him much attention. Maybe he's a new mechanic."
"No, Harry's right," Stuart added. "He's a pilot for sure. Mechanics don't wear parachutes."
Back on the hardstand, Lieutenant Daniel Fitch wrestled with his headgear and tugged at the loose fitting canvas straps of his parachute. The young pilot anxiously waited for Dawson and Simms to arrive so they could begin his qualification flight. Keeping to himself, Fitch felt relieved the other pilots seemed to ignore him. It made hiding his nervousness that much easier.
Fitch's world had dramatically changed in just one day. Fresh from RAF flight training, he was immediately assigned to active duty at Hampton. Even though the young lieutenant had been the top performer in his class at flight school, nothing had prepared him for the cold reception he received. He wanted to fit in and hoped Hampton would become his home, but everything seemed strange. The airfield, the squadron, and his commander were all new and not what he expected. The only things Fitch found familiar were the Spitfires.
"You might want to tighten the straps to your parachute," Lieutenant Gainey mischievously called to Fitch. "A 'chute's no good if you slip out when it opens."
Fitch's head snapped and his eyes widened at the alarming remark. Gainey brazenly stepped up to the stunned recruit and started t
ightening his straps. Lieutenant Hyatt joined them, ready to pile on some more friendly teasing.
"Don't let Brian scare you," Hyatt started, offering a sarcastic consolation. "Remember, if it doesn't go well for you up there today, we could always use another mechanic."
Fitch quietly smiled and clung to his pride. He didn't mind a little ribbing from other men. The way he looked at it, at least they were talking to him.
Finally, Dawson and Simms arrived on the hardstand. The rest of the pilots, including Fitch, quickly gathered around, ready to receive instructions from their Squadron Leader.
From behind the thick hedgerow fence, Harry and his friends watched the pilots huddle together out on the field. The children listened closely as Dawson assigned a number of tasks to keep the others busy while he and Captain Simms evaluated the new pilot's flight skills.
Harry couldn't help staring at the new recruit, convinced he had seen him before. He was just about to ask Stuart if he recognized the young pilot, when Erin mumbled, "The new guy sure seems familiar, doesn't he?"
"Yes," Harry exclaimed, excited at Erin's revelation. "I could swear I've seen him before, too, but I can't place him."
"Shhh," Stuart chided, "quiet down so we can hear what they're saying. Maybe we'll catch his name."
Captain Dawson finished assigning his list of small jobs and busy work to the pilots. As the rest of the men scurried to their tasks, Dawson and Simms prepared to get on with Fitch's flight evaluation.
"Lieutenant," Dawson announced, directing his remark at Fitch. "I'm sure you would like to spend the morning getting to know everyone better, but there's much to be done."
The nervous young pilot straightened up and choked out, "Yes, sir."
Captain Dawson sized up the new recruit. Fitch's freckled face betrayed his youth. His service uniform fitted loosely, draping over the thin frame of a boy. Dawson had hoped for a seasoned veteran to replace Tate, but the reality of war meant replacements were generally young and inexperienced. Even though RAF flight training schools were expert at teaching fresh recruits how to fly, there was no substitute for experience when it came to survival. Staring at Fitch, Dawson wondered if the young man could handle a situation where lives depended on him.
"Very well," Dawson continued, concealing his concern. "Captain Simms and I will take you up and test your flight skills in a Spitfire."
"We'll even give you a chance to shoot us down," Simms added, giving Fitch a playful shove.
"You really want me to shoot at you?" Fitch asked, innocently.
"No!" Dawson retorted. "We won't even load your guns until we're sure you know the difference between us and the enemy."
With that, Dawson signaled it was time to go and the three pilots walked off to their awaiting planes. The other men teased Fitch along the way. Harry, Stuart and Erin could hear them from behind the hedgerow fence.
"Daniel," Lieutenant Hyatt heckled, "leave your mum's number so we can ring her up if anything goes wrong."
"I knew a pilot who survived his first training flight with Captain Dawson," Gainey howled, "and ten others who didn't."
Fitch held his head up, unflinched by the taunting.
When Dawson reached his Spitfire he barked, "You take Tate's plane."
Befuddled, Fitch looked around and asked, "Which one was Tate's?"
Captain Simms gently grabbed Fitch by the arm, "Stay with me, lad, I'll show you."
The remaining pilots gathered with the aircrews on the edge of the hardstand, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lieutenant Fitch's qualification flight. Knowing Dawson and Simms, they would make it a good show for the audience crowded together on the ground.
Watching Fitch cross the field to his plane, Lieutenant Gainey, the youngest member of the squadron, elbowed Hyatt and whispered, "He must be even younger than I am."
"That's idiotic, Brian," Hyatt replied with a laugh, "the RAF doesn't take lads younger than you."
CHAPTER NINE
IN OR OUT
Harry, Stuart and Erin couldn't contain themselves any longer. They squeezed through a small gap in the hedgerow and raced to the airfield, eager to learn the identity of the mysterious new pilot and excited about the test flight.
On the hardstand, Lieutenant Gainey spun around, surprised by the trample of footsteps pounding up behind him. Instantly, the three wide-eyed children posed a flurry of questions.
"Lieutenant Gainey," Stuart asked first, "did the squadron get a new pilot?"
"Maybe. We'll see in a...," Gainey started, but before he could finish, Erin interrupted with another question.
"Where's Captain Dawson going with the new pilot?"
"On a test flight to see..., " Gainey replied, but was interrupted again, this time by Harry.
"What's his name?"
"Lieutenant...," Gainey's face suddenly went blank. "I had it a minute ago. It's... Daniel..."
Gainey glanced over to Hyatt, looking for help. Stumped, Hyatt stared back, shaking his head. Finally someone else in the group offered up, "Finch...? Or was it, Fish...? Something like that."
"Hopefully more finch than fish if he's going to fly against Dawson and Simms," Gainey smartly tossed back, and the crowd of men erupted in laughter.
The children didn't recognize the name, but they knew it was wrong, anyway. Harry couldn't understand why the squadron seemed so uncaring of their newest member that they wouldn't even know his name. He wanted answers.
"We overheard you teasing the new pilot," Harry revealed, looking straight at Gainey. "Don't you think you were a little harsh with him?"
The brash lieutenant stared at Harry and then shifted his eyes to Hyatt. In return, Lieutenant Hyatt cocked his head and shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing.
"A little harsh, you think?" Gainey replied.
"Yes," said Harry, "especially with him being a new member of the squadron."
Suddenly, Hyatt jumped into the conversation, "He's not a member yet!"
Harry was taken back by Lieutenant Hyatt's surly tone.
"Why don't you like him?" Harry asked.
Gainey fumbled with an explanation. "We all like him well enough. He seems to be a fine lad, but none of that matters. It's a life and death situation out there. We need to know if he's ready. We'd trust Tate with our lives. I don't know if we can do that with the new kid yet."
Then Hyatt took a turn. "Look, if he can't take a little teasing, he'll never be able to handle what he'll get from an enemy fighter. And for the rest of us, a timid pilot can be as dangerous as a German Messerschmitt."
"Or worse yet, a Focke-Wulf," Gainey added.
Nodding his head at Gainey's comment, Hyatt continued, "Captain Dawson and Captain Simms are taking him up to see what he's made of. He needs to prove he can be depended on in a scrap. When they get back, he's either in or out."
"Hyatt's right," Gainey agreed. "Soon enough, Dawson and Simms will determine if he stays here with the family or gets sent back to school. We just need to be a little patient and watch it happen."
Harry, Stuart and Erin looked at each other. Respecting the explanation from their pilot friends, the three children joined the men sitting in the grass and prepared to watch the test flight.
Out on the field, Captain Dawson mounted his Spitfire while Simms led Fitch to Tate's repaired plane. Before the new kid climbed up to the cockpit, Captain Simms pointed to a row of three victory emblems painted on the side, just under the canopy.
"Look, lad, Tate's already downed three Messerschmitts for you."
Fitch nodded his head, impressed by the previous pilot's tally.
"If you can get the two of us," Simms continued, tipping his head in Dawson's direction, "you'll be an ace."
Fitch smiled at the joke and hopped in the Spitfire. Nestled inside, he felt completely at home for the first time since his arrival at Hampton Airfield.
With a sudden burst of confidence, Fitch shouted to Captain Simms, "Would you prefer I shoot you down together, or one at a time?"
Simms grinned to himself. Trotting off to his plane, he called back, "That's what we're looking for Danny. Show us what you've got!"
Fitch grabbed the stick and tested the controls. His nerves calmed. He felt comfortable and capable in the seat of the Spitfire. Months of training had taught him all the necessary components of flight. This was what he had been waiting for, a chance to prove he was ready.
Suddenly, the radio sparked with an order from Captain Dawson, "Let's go!"
Lieutenant Fitch poured on the throttle and followed his two Captains onto the grassy field. The three Spitfires thundered down the runway and powered into the air. Mastering his controls, Daniel Fitch felt entirely in his element.
CHAPTER TEN
QUALIFICATION FLIGHT
Captain Dawson, Captain Simms and the new kid, Lieutenant Fitch, soared through the sky in tight formation. Quickly climbing, the graceful Spitfires circled high over the airfield in plain view of everyone on the ground. Fitch checked his indicators in preparation for the qualification test, then briefly looked down at the patchwork of green fields below. The young pilot eagerly waited for the chance to prove himself and be accepted by the squadron.
Settling in the seat of his Spitfire, Captain Dawson eyed the gauges in front of him, noting their speed and heading. Simms and Fitch followed on his left wing, like members of a precision team.
"We've reached altitude," Dawson called into his radio. "Andy, you take the lead for maneuvers."
"Roger," Simms replied. "Time for some formation flying."
"Okay, Fitch," Dawson continued, "when Simms calls to break, you follow his every move. I'll be behind you in the third slot... watching."
Captain Simms chuckled at Dawson's attempt to rattle Fitch with his overbearing tone. But, it had no effect on the young pilot. Fitch relaxed in the familiar surroundings of the cockpit. He calmly acknowledged the order and skillfully shifted his plane to the middle of the formation.
The New Kid Page 3