The three survivors testified at the end of the hearings, Lou being the last. He was to be questioned by the solicitor general, a short, aggressive Yorkshireman with steely, gray eyes and a bald head. Lou got up reluctantly, biting his lip as he buttoned the jacket of his dark blue suit. He marched stiffly across the hushed courtroom to the witness stand, his footsteps echoing on the oak boards. Today, he felt as nervous as New York Johnny. So many people had been waiting to hear Lou’s testimony—especially the press—there’d been such a hullaballoo in the newspapers. He was sick and tired of it. Sweating profusely, he delved in his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his brow, while coughing to loosen the tightness in his throat.
“Good morning, Mr. Remington.”
“Morning, sir.”
“Mr. Remington. Is that how I should address you? I notice you’re not in uniform.”
“Yes, sir, that’ll do just fine.”
“You were aboard the airship that afternoon?”
“Yes, sir.”
“As an enlisted man?”
“A senior enlisted man.”
“Not an officer?”
“No, sir.”
“What role did you play on the airship?”
“I was chief petty officer, sir. That’s similar to chief coxswain over here.”
“It sounds like an important job. Were you in charge of a lot of crewmen?”
“That day, ten Americans and twelve British were under my command.”
The solicitor general looked surprised. “British, too?”
“Yes, sir. I’d become senior in rank, although still mentored by the British.”
Lou could tell by his dubious expression the solicitor general was thinking he’d been in way over his head. “How long had you been a chief petty officer?”
“I was promoted three months before the accident,” Lou said.
He didn’t much care for the man’s tone.
“You’re very young—too young, some might say. And I ask you these questions in order to prove your competence—you understand?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
“So, prior to your promotion, had you experience in flying airships?”
Lou sensed everyone’s eyes upon him, as if they thought he had something to do with the cause of the accident.
“I flew in blimps after the war, sir.”
“You joined the Navy, or was it the Army—when?”
“The U.S. Marine Corps in 1914.”
“At what age?”
Lou hesitated.
This is complicated.
“Sixteen, sir.”
“Sixteen?”
“Yes, on my sixteenth birthday, sir.”
The solicitor general frowned.
“What’s the minimum age for acceptance into the U.S. Marines?”
“Eighteen, sir.”
“How come they accepted you?”
“I lied on my application.”
There were looks of surprise and a few raised eyebrows in the courtroom.
“They didn’t kick you out?”
“No, they sent me to a special unit.”
“They put you on ice, so to speak?”
“Yes, I trained for three and a half years in hand to hand combat and Japanese martial arts, observation and parachute training.”
“You must have become a pretty dangerous fellow by that time?”
Lou had become lethal at karate and was on the verge of obtaining his black belt when they shipped him off to war.
“Yes, I became an instructor at Quantico.”
Lou glanced up into the gallery and gave a half-smile. He figured someone up there would be paying careful attention.
“They made you a corporal, what the Americans refer to as an E4, before being sent to France in 1918?”
“Yes.”
The solicitor general went to the table, poured water into a glass and swallowed a mouthful, pausing to think. He returned to Lou.
“Then after the war, with the rank of sergeant, an E5, you were discharged?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do after the war?”
“I joined the Navy, based at Lakehurst, for training in blimps and airships.”
“You seem to be a glutton for punishment! Why airships?”
“I thought they were going to be the next big thing, sir.”
The solicitor general smirked.“Cruise ships in the sky?
Lou smiled faintly. “Yes, I suppose.”
“And now?”
“I’m not sure.”
The solicitor general peered around the court, searching for a reaction. There was none.
“You came to England when?”
“June, 1920.”
“You were based at Cardington during the construction of R38?”
“Yes, sir, and then in Howden, after the launching.”
“And you’ve left the Navy?”
“Yes.”
“Discharged?”
“Honorably discharged, yes sir.”
“Why?”
“I was about to sign on for five more years …”
“And then, this happened. …Are you married?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
“Good. I hope you found a nice, Yorkshire lass.”
Lou couldn’t help smiling. He peered up into the gallery again, scanning the faces for Charlotte.
“I did, sir.”
He spotted her and grinned sheepishly. The solicitor general and everyone else in the court followed his gaze and saw Charlotte smiling down at Lou. Everyone looked happy for a moment.
“I want to say that all of us here in this court congratulate you, not only on your marriage to that lovely girl up there, but on your receiving the Navy Cross. …You did heroic things that day.”
“I did nothing, sir.”
“Mr. Remington, how many stitches did it take to sew up that gash in your face?”
“Seventy-eight.”
“And that young lady stitched you up?”
“She did.”
“Most people in court know what you did on that horrible day, but for the benefit of the few who don’t, I’ll elaborate.” The solicitor general turned and addressed the court. “With a cut to your face requiring seventy-eight stitches, you threw your own parachute to one of your desperate crewmen. You led this man …” he said, pointing at Potter, “… to safety. You pulled Josh Stone, who was hanging on by his fingertips, back on board the airship, which was now torn in two, receiving a severely broken arm in the process. And you then heaved this man …” pointing to Bateman, “…whom you found dangling from the stern, back on board with your one good arm. No, sir, these actions could not be described as ‘nothing’! We’re honored to have you living among us.”
Lou wiped his forehead and glanced at the faces. They were all proud of him and one or two people actually shouted and clapped.
“Well done!”
“He’s a hero!”
Lou sat shaking his head.
They’re all wrong!
The solicitor general paused for the court to take a little pleasure from this moment. Then Lou saw his attitude change back to business. He could tell this lawyer was a skilled and artful interrogator. He’d probably been softening him up. He’d need to keep his guard up.
“Now, going back to the final tests, you and your crew were watching the structure of the ship for signs of weakness. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“They told you to expect problems?”
“No, but we were instructed to stay alert—keep our eyes open.”
Lou glanced around the courtroom. The attention of all was riveted on him. Suddenly, a baby cried out at the back of the court, breaking the stillness. They paused while the young mother in black, soothed the child. Lou glanced at her, and recognized Elsie as one of the nurses from the hospital.
That must be Bobby’s child. Poor guy.
“How did you receive this order, Mr. Remington?”
“From the commodore, sir.”
This surprised the solicitor general. He put his hand up to his head. Murmurs went up through the gallery. Scott and McWade glanced at one another.
“Really! How so?”
“I’d reported to the control car for instructions.”
The solicitor general’s eyes opened wide. “You were in the presence of the commodore himself?”
“Yes.”
“Did you notice anything abnormal—among the officers, I mean?”
“No, sir. Everything appeared quite normal.”
Lou’s mind raced back. He remembered the expressions on the faces in the control car.
“Tell the court about the order you were given.”
“The commodore said they were due to begin the final test, which would be a tough one. He instructed me to warn the crewmen to be alert and to keep a close eye on all parts of the structure.”
“That sounds rather ominous. Did you find these tests especially dangerous?”
Lou glanced across at Maj. Scott. He remembered him coming to their rescue on the river estuary. Scott gave him an icy stare. Lou felt ill at ease with these questions. He was torn. He thought of Charlotte and all the English people who’d been good to him over these last months.
They treated me like a son, damn it!
“No. I wouldn’t say that.”
The solicitor general hesitated, staring out the window toward the quadrangle at the rear of the court. He appeared to be searching for the right words.
“Mr. Remington, there’s been a lot of speculation and innuendo in the newspapers about the events of that day. This is a tough question, but one I must ask, I’m afraid. Did you get the impression anyone was trying to impress people gathered at the waterfront with some ‘fancy flying’?”
The court fell silent, save for a buzzing sound. Lou gazed up at the clerestory window. A bumblebee was trapped, bumping against the glass. He sympathized with the creature. The droning filled his head, and his mind drifted. He found himself standing in the control car. The tension in the men’s faces he’d seen before was now replaced with anguish and horror. Those expressions—now exaggerated and distorted by months of brooding—seriously disturbed him. He relived the commodore giving him the order and then going up to the crewmen who were waiting for him—waiting to do his bidding, to carry out his orders without question, like faithful dogs! Their trusting faces haunted him. Every damned day, they haunted him. Every damned night they haunted him. Could he have done more? Could he have done something, anything, to save them? His head became full of his own voice, yelling.
When the commodore gave me the order I should have screamed: “No! No! No! Don’t! This damned thing’s gonna fall apart!” Any imbecile would’ve known that—wouldn’t they?
Lou remembered the uneasy tightness in his chest as he climbed those stairs.
I just didn’t have the guts, damn it! I can never go home. I could never face their families. I know they’d want to meet me. They’d write and track me down. They’d want a first-hand account of how their sons died. They’d want to know how come I survived while their boys are dead. “What’s so damned special about you?” they’d ask.
No longer conscious of anything in the courtroom, Lou heard the American captain shout. “Remington, look to your crew!”
Lou put his hand to his throbbing forehead. So many times he’d been woken in the night by the captain’s voice out of the darkness. And so many nights Charlotte had consoled him. Lou found himself jarred back from the nightmare by the irritated voice of the solicitor general, his face no longer kindly.
“Mr. Remington. Mr. Remington! Was this about ‘fancy flying’?”
Lou glanced up at the clerestory window. The bumblebee was gone.
No question the commodore had made a terrible miscalculation—foolish even, but he wasn’t showing off.
“Not at all, sir. It was about a concerned man testing an airship.”
The solicitor general’s voice became silky—like a blade.
“To destruction?”
“As it happened, yes …to destruction,” Lou said softly.
The solicitor general resumed his calm and became chatty. He leaned his elbow on the railing in front of Lou, confiding.
“Did anybody tell you this airship was a copy, an almost exact copy of a German Zeppelin ‘height climber’, not designed to carry out radical maneuvers at low altitude?” He then turned and addressed the U.S. naval officers sitting at the front. “R38/ZR-2 was a copy of the German L49 high altitude bomber shot down in France. Those airships were constructed with their weight and strength reduced to get out of the reach of our fighters. In other words, they were pretty fragile. So, gentlemen, if you’re constructing any more airships, please keep that in mind,” he said.
The Americans stared back with faces of stone. He turned back to Lou for a comment. Lou struggled to recover, feeling like he’d been slugged with a baseball bat. He knew they were constructing a sister ship in Lakehurst—ZR-1—Shenandoah—Josh’s ship, another Zeppelin copy!
“Er, I didn’t know anything about that, sir, no.”
“But you do know now.”
“Yes, I do now.”
Later, Lou realized he’d been used as a pawn for publicity in British politics by the court and by the press. Although the British had done some calculations, the ship that had come apart had been based on a German Zeppelin not meant to be maneuvered at low altitude in the denser air of the earth’s surface, where excessive stress would be put on the ship.
Lou knew her back had broken, pure and simple, due to too much rudder in a diving high-speed turn. He understood now why the officers in the control car had been so tense. But he couldn’t bring himself to blame Commodore Maitland. Desperately worried about the testing not being adequate, he’d struggled with the responsibility of sending a ‘green’ crew off to face the Atlantic in an unproven airship. He’d taken drastic measures to prove the ship’s airworthiness—fatal ones, as it turned out. Under the strain of full power and full rudder, it was impossible not to break the back of that airship. She’d jackknifed. Lou also knew that this charade, this well-choreographed show, had deflected blame from where it truly belonged and attempted to saddle the commodore with it, but Lou hadn’t allowed that. He wondered about the solicitor general—wittingly or unwittingly he’d helped Lou make that possible
After three days of cross examination of eye witnesses, the court was adjourned. Before Lou left, he was surprised to find Scott standing beside him with McWade. They shook hands.
“Major Scott,” Lou said.
“Just wanted to thank you for your testimony—and your honesty.”
“No problem, sir.”
“So, you’re sticking around—not going home?”
“No, sir. This is home for me now.”
Scott was all ears. “Really! What are you doing?”
Lou hesitated. “I’m working in a garage, pumping gas and fixing trucks.”
Scott looked pained. “I see—”
The huge frame of the American commander appeared. Lou brightened on hearing his familiar voice. “Good testimony, Remington,” he boomed. Commander Horace Dyer towered over them in dress uniform. He was the most senior officer in charge of the American contingent in Britain. They shook hands.
“Thank you, sir,” Lou said.
“I just want to say, as far as the Navy’s concerned, the door’s always open.”
“Kind of you to say, sir.”
“We’re all gonna be pushing off soon. You should think about coming with us. We’ll find you another ship. Bring that beautiful bride with you.”
“I’m grateful to you, sir. Maybe one day, but not right now.”
Their attention was taken by two grief-stricken, nurses—Elsie and Minnie. Elsie, still rather large, was holding an infant, while Minnie looked ready to give birth at any moment. They waddled by, dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs, sniffing. Lou pitied t
hem.
“Looks like your boys’ve been busy,” Scott said with a smirk.
“It’s a damned shame,” Lou said.
“If the silly little cows had kept their drawers on, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe you should take them back to the States with you, Commander,” Scott said.
“Maybe we should,” the commander replied. He turned to Lou and put his hand on his shoulder. “Stay in touch, Lieutenant.” He gave a formal nod to Scott. “Major,” he said and strode off.
Suddenly, there was a scream. Minnie stood by the door holding on to Elsie. Water poured down between her legs, pooling on the floor.
“Saints preserve us!” Scott muttered in disgust. A few people gathered around Minnie and helped her to a chair out in the reception hall. “Get that woman an ambulance!” Scott yelled.
Someone rushed off to find a phone.
Scott resumed as if nothing had happened. “Look, here’s my card. I’ve heard good things about you. I don’t like to see talent go to waste. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. The airship industry will survive. Those men were all pioneers. They didn’t die in vain. Remember that, son.” Scott stuck out his hand again and abruptly marched off with the silent McWade. Lou nodded skeptically as they went.
That’s the kind of crap people say at funerals.
Lou knew Charlotte would be waiting outside the courtroom and moved toward the doors. He spotted her from a distance and hesitated for a moment, relishing her beauty. He felt like the luckiest man in the world. He was ridiculously in love and it was mutual, but with the joy came gnawing guilt, which never left him. On seeing Lou, Charlotte’s eyes lit up. She came and put her arms around him.
“How are you now, love?” she asked.
“It was all a waste of time.”
“You were wonderful. I’m proud of you.”
Lou didn’t feel so impressed with himself.
“It’s over. You can put it all behind you now,” Charlotte said.
“That’s the end of my Zep days, I guess,” Lou said.
“Never mind. Who needs them! You’ve got me instead!” Charlotte put her hand to his face, gently tracing the scar with her slender fingers, from his right eye down to his chin. She kissed his mouth tenderly, her lips moist and delicious. While he embraced her, he ran his fingers through the mass of black hair cascading down her back.
The Airshipmen: A Novel Based on a True Story. A Tale of Love, Betrayal & Political Intrigue. Page 6