The Airshipmen: A Novel Based on a True Story. A Tale of Love, Betrayal & Political Intrigue.

by David Dennington

  15

  ‘MR. SHUTE’ & FRIENDS

  Autumn 1926 and onwards.

  One day in autumn of ‘26, Lou and Charlotte invited Norway to Candlestick Cottage for dinner. It was customary for families to eat a roast late in the afternoon on Sundays. Lou had come to enjoy these feasts, especially in the dreary months of late autumn and winter. A log fire crackling in the grate and a glass or two of frothy Yorkshire ale always made it special and the cottage extra cozy.

  Norway, an Oxford graduate, had been hired by Wallis as chief calculator to head the team of mathematicians who would sit for years calculating the stresses and sizes of each girder for manufacture in the metal shop. Norway had left de Havilands to join Vickers. He’d worked down in Kent at an office in Crayford until Howden was ready. Although well versed in aeronautical engineering, he had no airship experience whatsoever and made no bones about it. He loved to fly aeroplanes.

  At ten minutes to three, they perceived a gentle knock. Charlotte opened the front door to find Norway every inch the intellectual, comically boffin-like, and hating herself for thinking this—no beauty. He was of average height and build and, though a year younger than Lou, seemed older. He wore a green and brown Harris Tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, which they’d learn he wore in all weathers for all activities. He carried with him the smell of aromatic pipe tobacco, which Charlotte found quite pleasing.

  Norway’s beady, blue eyes peered out from under bushy eyebrows. When working on his endless calculations or poring over drawings, his hooked nose supported thick, horn-rimmed glasses. Capping everything, Norway had a stutter—a real doozy. Lou and Charlotte wanted to help him by finishing his sentences, but forced themselves to resist. Lou noticed the more they got to know each other, the less Norway stuttered. At times, it disappeared altogether.

  He stood stiffly to attention on the step under the porch roof, clutching a bottle of wine.

  “Hello! You must be Mr. Norway,” Charlotte said, putting out her hand.

  Norway became flustered, overcome by her beauty. She wore a stunning red dress and her favorite perfume. He thrust the bottle into her outstretched hand.

  “Er, p-p-please c-call me N-Nevil,” he said.

  “Right then, Nevil! Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” she said, examining the bottle. “Oh, it’s red. My favorite! Thank you so much. Come in and make yourself comfortable.”

  Norway peered around the room, at the crackling fire and the round table, beautifully laid for dinner, overlooking the damp, autumnal garden. Norway breathed in the smell of roast lamb, mint sauce and scorched Yorkshire puddings.

  “S-smells w-wonderful and what a l-lovely c-cottage …And I m-must say I do like your p-perfume.”

  “Je Reviens!” a voice shouted from the kitchen—it was Lou, who then appeared. Norway looked visibly relieved to see him.

  “It means, ‘I w-will r-return.’”

  “Charlotte told me the name of it when we met. I never thought about what it meant. I wish we could speak French,” Lou said.

  “Glad you could come, Nevil. I’ve cooked a roast. Hope you like lamb?” Charlotte said.

  “Oh, yes, I d-do. M-marvelous. Yes, thank you.”

  Charlotte picked up the bottle and squinted at the label. “Nevil’s brought us a bottle of wine. It’s called Chateau er, neuf du P-P- er …er …”

  “Pape!” Norway blurted out. They all roared with laughter, Norway revealing all his large, crooked teeth, reminding Charlotte of a horse. She felt dreadful again.

  “Looks so expensive. We’ll have this with dinner,” Charlotte said.

  “I got a crate of pale ale from the pub. Would you like one before dinner, Nevil?” Lou said, giving Norway a wink.

  “Oh, yes s-splendid.”

  Lou and Nevil drank their beers and chatted while Charlotte put the finishing touches to the meal.

  “D-Dinner smells t-t-temptingly d-delicious and one f-f-feels so at home here,” Norway said, his eyelids fluttering under the strain of trying his best not to stutter.

  “Charlotte grows all our vegetables. I’m real proud of her,” Lou said.

  After a couple of beers Norway settled down and talked about himself. He obviously felt comfortable and, as a young man away from home, appreciative of their hospitality. Norway told them he didn’t want to live on the aerodrome close to work and his bosses and had therefore taken rooms over a pub in Howden with two colleagues. He’d settled down to life in Yorkshire and joined a flying club in Sherburn-in-Elmet.

  Over an excellent meal, washed down by Norway’s fine wine, they learned that joyriding in aeroplanes wasn’t all Norway did for fun. After packing his pipe with Balkan Sobranie and filling the room with sweet-smelling clouds of smoke, Norway told them that, for his own amusement, he’d written a novel in his spare time. And, to his amazement, a draft had been accepted by a London publisher. Since Norway thought his employers might think he wasn’t taking his day job seriously, he’d had the book published under his middle name, ‘Shute.’ He was now working on a second novel in the evenings. This intrigued Lou and Charlotte. They’d never met a writer before.

  Norway was interested in Lou’s experience and his survival of the R38 crash. He told Lou he’d attended Thomson’s press conference in Cardington, incognito. He said he’d badly wanted to talk to Lou about that ship, but in the end decided not to intrude. Lou nodded and smiled, telling him he had wondered—Norway didn’t look like a reporter. Norway said, before moving to Howden, he’d made a study of R38 and was horrified to learn it was basically a copy of a Zeppelin without fresh calculations. He said he believed her factor of safety had been less than 1. He explained that it should have been at least 1.5, that is to say, designed for one and a half times the stress it was likely to encounter. From this, Lou realized neither R38 nor Shenandoah had stood an earthly chance of survival.

  During the months that followed, usually over dinner, they had many conversations about R38. This wasn’t a subject Charlotte enjoyed talking about, and even though the first piece of structure hadn’t been erected, Howden R100 was becoming a reality. The airship would soon encroach upon their lives. The subject of Shenandoah never came up—Lou had warned Norway not to speak of it. Despite all the talk of airships, Charlotte came to adore Norway, pleased to have a writer for a friend, especially when he asked them both to critique his second book. Charlotte liked the title: ‘So Disdained.’ They laughed when Norway was coming over to talk about his writing, referring to him as ‘Mr. Shute.’ It was their little secret.

  One weekend, Charlotte and Fanny had a heart-to-heart talk while they sat at the dining room table watching Lou and Billy playing soccer in the garden. Billy and Lou scrambled and dribbled, while Lenny leaned on the stone wall coughing and wheezing as he tried to light another Woodbine.

  “Your boy’s growing fast, Fanny.”

  “Yes, he is. He idolizes your husband, you know.”

  “You’re right, he does,” Charlotte said.

  “I tell him, ‘You should try and be like your Dad,’ and d’you know

  what he says?”

  “What, love?”

  “He says, ‘I want to be like Lou.’ It really upsets me. His dad’s been through so much. They gassed him in the trenches at the Somme, you know.”

  Charlotte winced. She felt Lenny’s agony.

  Fanny began to cry. “He got TB after the war and now look at ’im, poor love. He’s having trouble smoking a fag. He suffers with his nerves and melancholia and oh, ‘ee loves that boy so much.”

  Charlotte was overcome by sadness.

  “You mustn’t talk about that bloody awful war to the boy, Fanny,” she said bitterly.

  “No, I don’t want to upset him with all that horror.” Fanny changed the subject and perked up. “Anyway Charlotte, no news yet?” she said, dabbing her eyes and then patting Charlotte’s tummy.

  “I don’t think it’s ever going to happen.”

  “Be patient. When the Good Lo
rd’s ready, it’ll happen, you’ll see,” Fanny said, forcing a smile.

  “I’ve been to the doctor and he said it’s not me. He won’t go. I’m sure it’s his fault,” Charlotte said, looking in Lou’s direction.

  “Charlotte, you don’t know that!”

  “Then what’s wrong with us?”

  “Things have to be right. Don’t get so desperate.”

  “Desperate! We’ve been married five years now. He’s more interested in that bloody airship.”

  “You mustn’t nag him about it—entice him,” Fanny said. Charlotte sighed and stared out the window at Lou, she watched him for a while. She’d thought he was gorgeous when she first saw him on that ward—and he was still gorgeous. After a moment, she turned back to Fanny.

  “I guess I fell in love with Lou the moment I laid eyes on him, you know, Fanny.”

  “Yes, I know you did, love. We all knew.”

  Over the following months, the stream of visitors to the cottage at weekends increased. Sometimes everyone showed up at once: John and his wife, Mary, Fanny, Lenny and Billy, Norway, and sometimes the Wallises and Charlotte’s parents. Everyone in this diverse group got on well and these get-togethers usually ended with a sing-song. Charlotte sat at the piano playing all the latest hits: “Tea for Two,” “Yes Sir, That’s My Baby,” and “What’ll I Do?” She was banned from playing “Mammy.” Sometimes, Lou accompanied her on the guitar and played a few country songs from the Deep South which delighted Billy. Charlotte always encouraged Molly to bring the children, though it made her both happy and sad. She and Molly became close over the next four years.

  16

  CARDINGTON VISITS

  December 1926 and onwards.

  Lou visited Cardington each month. It was usually a day trip. He showed Colmore and Scott drawings and photographs of the work executed during the last month and work projected for the next. He also submitted a schedule of costs to date. Lou found most of the R.A.W. staff polite, but sensed underlying hostility—not toward him, but Howden.

  Lou got to know Col. Richmond over the three-year period of construction and his arrogant manner confirmed Lou’s earlier impression. Around Christmas that first year, Lou arrived at Cardington House only to be informed Colmore and Scott were away and Col. Richmond would be available in half an hour or so. Lou waited in the reception area for ninety minutes before being sent to Richmond’s office on the second floor. Lou knocked on the door and entered. Richmond rose from behind a fine mahogany desk, well-dressed in a blue serge suit and red tie.

  “Ah, Lieutenant Remington, thank you for coming,” Richmond said. After slight hesitation, they shook hands and sat down. Richmond stared at Lou for some moments without speaking.

  “So, what’s happening in that mud hole up north?”

  Lou opened his briefcase and pulled out drawings of Howden R100 with photographs of the metal fabrication shop. Richmond held up his hands.

  “I don’t need to look at all that stuff, just tell me what’s going on.”

  “The ship’s pretty well engineered. They’re using a geodetic design. They’re still working on the tail, the elevators and rudder configurations.”

  Richmond appeared uninterested.

  “The metal factory is set up and is producing components. The central frames are being fabbed and …’’

  “Fabbed! What is this word ‘fabbed’?”

  “Prefabricated, sir.”

  “Ah, it’s one of your Americanisms. You people love to shorten everything, don’t you.”

  “The first of the central frames is set in place. I can show you …” Lou said, opening a drawing of the ship’s frame.

  Richmond waved it off, wrinkling his nose.

  “I don’t need the details. What about gas bag harnesses?”

  “Gas bag harnesses? Oh yes, they’re designed. Mr. Wallis seems happy with them.”

  “Is he indeed?” Richmond grimaced. “And gas valves?”

  “Yes, they’re designed, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, in Germany.”

  “What you mean is: They’re using the ones the Germans have been using for donkey’s years.”

  “Well, yes. Mr. Shute …er Mr. Norway said they’re tried and tested.”

  “Tried and tested!” Richmond guffawed. “Who is this Mr. Shute?”

  “He’s nobody, sir. I misspoke. I’m sorry. I meant Norway.”

  “The gas valves are coming from Norway?”

  “No, sir, I meant Mr. Norway. Not Mr. Shute.”

  “Ah, I see. And who is this Norway person?”

  “Howden’s chief calculator, sir.”

  “How much airship experience does he have?”

  “None, sir.”

  “None! And where did they drag him up from?”

  “He came from de Havilands. I understand he’s an aeronautical engineer, sir.”

  “But with no airship experience?”

  “None whatsoever, no.”

  “What are they doing about gas bags?”

  “They’re being ordered from Germany, too.”

  “Yes, of course. They don’t have facilities to make their own, do they?” Richmond sneered.

  “No sir, they are not as fortunate.”

  “What else are the Germans doing for our Howden friends?”

  “I believe that’s about it, sir.”

  “Perhaps Wallis should have the Germans build the whole ship for him. They would’ve stood a better chance, I should’ve thought.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t follow.”

  “Well, I don’t suppose you do, Lieutenant.”

  Lou sat and waited for Richmond, who rested his chin in his hand pouting at the wall. “This whole thing’s all a bit of a farce, Remington, let’s face it.”

  “How do you mean, sir, exactly?”

  “Vickers’s people are all up there scratching around in that broken-down old shed. To be honest, I feel sorry for them. They’re not going to be able to compete with us. We’ve got a state of the art facility, unlimited funds, Bolton and Paul’s engineering department with their steel works just down the street—not to mention the resources of the entire British Government—all at our disposal!”

  “That’s a real nice position to be in, Colonel.”

  “And d’you know what’s best of all, Remington? Time is on our side—time to get it right. They’re stuck with a schedule and an impossible set of conditions they can’t possibly hope to fulfill. No, they’re up a creek without a paddle, I’m afraid.”

  Lou said nothing. Richmond got fidgety. “What do you think, Remington—honestly?”

  “Oh me, sir, I’m not qualified to give an opinion, not being an engineer.”

  Richmond paused and looked away, mulling it over.

  “No, bit unfair of me to ask, really. Well, our goal here is to construct the finest airship ever built, anywhere. Better than anything the Germans have produced and certainly better than anything the Howden people could conceive of. Cardington R101 will be cutting edge—as comfortable and as smooth as any luxury liner that ever put to sea—and the safest, of course.”

  “That will be a wonderful thing, sir.”

  “Yes, and no doubt you’ll be aboard her as an officer, one day.”

  “I look forward to that.”

  “And so you should, Lieutenant. And so you should!”

  Lou left the building turning their conversation over in his mind.

  If these people have all the advantages, why the hell is he so uptight?

  In the coming months, Lou had more contact with Richmond. He was even invited to his home office where he met Richmond’s wife, Florence, or ‘Florry’, as he called her. Lou found her to be a classy lady and they seemed devoted. In those surroundings and in Colmore’s absence, Richmond became more amenable. He clearly hoped to get a feel for how he, Richmond, was doing compared to Wallis. Lou sometimes thought Richmond was torturing himself. Naturally, despite what Richmond said prev
iously, Lou was there to be pumped for information about Howden R100.

  Lou couldn’t help comparing the two men leading the teams. They were complete opposites. Richmond seemed to be more of a manager, whereas Wallis was himself the hands-on engineer and designer. He was a perfectionist, and like all perfectionists, kept absolute control over all things. In Cardington, it was a project being managed by a committee. Lou hoped the airship wouldn’t turn out like the proverbial camel. He realized the Cardington team’s goals couldn’t be more different than Wallis’s. It seemed to be more about being the best for the sake of it.

  The other motivation for Cardington was to not repeat the old mistakes—a sensible goal. The attitude was: No matter how long it takes, and at whatever cost, Cardington R101 will be built not just state of the art, but to the state of perfection. They weren’t under the same restrictions and operated with virtually no oversight—they were their own judge and jury. This made the government types—be they military men, government bureaucrats, or airship works employees—arrogant and condescending toward Howden.

  In the early part of 1927, Richmond took Lou into the shed before construction had started and proudly showed him a mock-up of a forty-foot section of the airship, complete with a gasbag. This sample had been fabricated by Bolton and Paul to prove their structural theories. After study and inspection, it was demolished. This experiment, Richmond proudly told him, had cost the British taxpayers forty thousand pounds. Lou thought it was a good idea but knew Howden couldn’t afford such experiments to prove Wallis’s theories or Norway’s calculations.

  Later that year, Richmond shared their designs for gas bag harnesses, gas valves and servo mechanisms (to assist in steering the airship), designed by his assistant, Squadron Leader Rope. Richmond also showed him pictures of the Beardmore diesel engines on order from Scotland, due for delivery next spring.