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

by David Dennington

  “What!”

  “While I was down south yesterday.”

  “Oh no! What are you going to do?”

  “The son of a bitch must’ve known I was in Cardington.”

  “You must tell them he’s evil and should be sacked.”

  “I can’t do that. They don’t fire people for being evil. Perhaps they should, but they don’t.”

  “You’ve got to go and explain what he’s done to us.”

  “Charlotte, they’ll tell me to go to the police and we’ve been all through that.”

  “You’ll have to see him every day. You’ve got to talk to them.”

  “Charlotte, I’m not sure they’ll believe us. The whole thing’s bizarre. No question he’s a mental case, but they might think it’s you, I mean we, who have the problem.”

  “What do you mean? I don't have a problem!”

  “Sorry, my darling. You don’t, but you know how people are.”

  “Lou, do you remember the time I came home with a bruise on my arm?” Lou glared at Charlotte. Instinctively, he knew before she said any more.

  “Yes, and you said an elderly lady grabbed you in the ward.”

  “Jessup did that to me. He said a lot of dirty things and laid his hands on me when I was walking to Ackworth Station.”

  “That must have been when the heel of your shoe broke off?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you don’t tell me until now!”

  “I didn’t want to upset you. I was afraid what you might do.”

  “But now you’re not afraid?”

  “I just want you to get him fired. That’s all.”

  Lou was silent for a few moments. “Charlotte, I killed a man once.”

  Charlotte was dumbstruck.

  “A German,” he said quietly.

  “What happened?”

  “I’d shot a lot of Germans …” Charlotte was horrified. He’d not told her he’d even shot at anybody, although he had told her about the last day of the war. “But this was different. He was a POW who’d escaped. He came at me with a bayonet, terrified, babbling in German. He was just a kid …” Lou hung his head, “no more than sixteen.”

  “What did you do?”

  “He had no chance. I snapped his neck in a second,” Lou said, gesturing the action with his hands.

  Charlotte turned her face away, sickened. “Oh, Lou, that’s awful. My God!”

  “It’s hard to live with, Charlotte.”

  “You poor love. I understand,” she said, turning back to him.

  “I didn’t need to kill him—not really. It was sadistic and it came natural. I regret it every day.” Lou put his hands to his head, remorse tearing him up inside.

  “I’m so sorry, Lou.”

  “When I was young I was cocky and aggressive. I loved karate and the thought of meting out punishment to those I thought deserved it.”

  “That’s natural, love.”

  “Sometimes when I look at Jessup, I see myself. I can’t explain it.”

  “Oh no, Lou. That’s silly.”

  “Charlotte, I can’t describe to you the desolation I felt on eleven-eleven when I walked away from the battlefield leaving all my buddies lying dead in the mud. All I could think about was them …and that German boy. I wanted no part of violence after that. I vowed not to hurt anyone again.”

  He looked into Charlotte’s eyes. Even though it was impossible, she had an uncanny way of understanding all he’d been through; another reason why he loved her so much, though they usually avoided the subject of war. It upset her too much.

  “When I joined the Marines I was angry; when I left, all that was gone. I have an ugly side I’m not proud of, Charlotte, especially when someone close to me is threatened. In those days, I was always in a rage. My father told me over and over—I was a pussy and I’d never amount to anything.”

  “He must have caused it then. Perhaps he was jealous of you. Some fathers are.”

  “That’s as maybe, but it’s why I don’t want to get into it with Jessup. It’d be too easy. I always remember what old Jeb tried to instill in me as a kid—respect for life. It took a while, but it finally took hold. Forgive and forget, he always said.”

  “Who’s Jeb?”

  “A great guy who stays on my Gran’s farm. Known him all my life. I love the man.”

  “So, what are we going to do?”

  “We’ll wait. Things will be better when I get posted to Cardington.”

  The dirty secret hung over them—suffocating—like a filthy blanket. Lou didn’t speak of it to Wallis or Norway, and Jessup and his friends kept their noses clean. To make matters worse, in the noisy turmoil in the shed where men shouted directions from the roof to the floor, while swinging around like stuntmen, Jessup’s stature rose. He displayed extraordinary athletic ability and fearlessness as he climbed the massive webs of scaffolding. He dangled from the bosun’s chair, raced up flimsy ladders and climbed ropes to great heights—as good as any high wire circus performer. All this was accompanied by annoying, shrill, two-finger whistles to his buddies signaling them to ‘get up here’ or bring something to him. It became one of his trademark mannerisms; part of his successful bid to dominate the shed. He became feared by all.

  Wallis and Norway noticed him. He was a hard worker who got things done and could make the others jump to it. Bit by bit, he became brazen and smiled at Lou in his cocksure way. Now it was Lou’s turn not to look at Jessup directly, feeling those wicked bug-eyes always on him. Jessup had got the upper hand. Over the coming months, Jessup became increasingly mouthy. He’d joined the union and been promoted to charge-hand foreman over his three buddies and three others. One day, a delivery of duralumin arrived on a truck and Lou went out to check it.

  “Hey boys, here’s the lieutenant.” Jessup pronounced ‘lieutenant’ the American way – ‘looootenant’ instead of ‘leftenant.’

  “Where would you like to stick this, sir? Anywhere special? I can think of a place, if you can’t!”

  “Cut the crap, Jessup. Stack the stuff over there,” Lou answered.

  “Oooooh. Cut the crap, eh? You ‘eard the lieutenant, boys. Put the stuff over there and cut the crap—we mustn’t upset the brave lieutenant, must we.”

  Lou went to the driver and signed his delivery slip and returned to his office. This was the first time Jessup had stepped out of line on the job, and it caught him by surprise. Lou wasn’t sure what to do and assumed the insults would escalate. A week later, a load of timber arrived for cribbage and shoring. The truck pulled into the shed and Lou went out to the driver. Jessup, his gang of apes in tow, surrounded Lou as the driver got down from the cab. The driver, a heavy-set man, had become friendly with Lou since the caravan incident. His brother, a rigger, had been aboard R38 when it crashed, and Lou remembered him. He gave Lou a bright smile.

  “Hello, governor. How are you today?”

  “Not bad, Bill,” Lou answered.

  “ ’Ere, you wanted a description of that peeping Tom trying look in your caravan that time. Remember?” the driver said, pointing his index finger in Jessup’s face, whose bulbous eyes blazed in fury. “This is ’im right here!”

  “Now you watch it, cock! Your health could take a nasty turn,” Jessup yelled.

  “Oh, yeah? Is that right, you pockmarked, grease ball? I’ll cut yer dick off—if I can find it,” the driver shouted back.

  The foreman, hearing the commotion, came rushing over. “What’s going on?” he demanded, glaring at the driver.

  “It’s not his fault,” Lou said.

  “What’s all this about, then?”

  “I saw this man here, peeking in the lieutenant’s caravan window a while ago,” the driver said. “Stinking little pervert.”

  “I’d come to find a job, that’s all. But this bloke,” Jessup pointed at Lou, “was inside with a woman. He must have bin havin’ ’er away. The caravan was rockin’ about an’ she was screamin’ like a wild woman.”

&nb
sp; Jessup’s crew laughed and sniggered. “Wo!” they yelled.

  “That wasn’t right. Not on government property,” Jessup declared, puffing out his chest.

  “All right, all right!” the foreman growled. “Bugger off, the lot of yer. Get to the other end of the shed. Report to the foreman down there.”

  “I’m going to report this to the shop steward,” Jessup hissed.

  “You can go and tell the Pope, for all I care,” the foreman shouted.

  After they were out of earshot, he turned to Lou. “Is any of this true, sir?”

  “It was during the time of reconstruction. My wife had brought me my lunch …and she was giving me dancing lessons. We were doing the Charleston.”

  “And what was Jessup doing?”

  “He was trying to look in the window,” the driver said.

  “Maybe he was looking for a job, like he said,” the foreman said.

  “You could be right,” Lou said. “Let’s forget about the whole thing.”

  The foreman shrugged and walked off to bring another crew to unload the truck.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think …” the driver began.

  “Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault, Bill.”

  “I just wanted you to know, it was him. Dirty little wanker!”

  “I knew exactly who it was,” Lou said.

  “Do you want me to do ’im for yer, sir?”

  “No, please don’t. I don’t like violence.”

  “What are you going to do, guv?” the driver asked.

  “I’m working on it.”

  A few weeks later, in the middle of summer, Jessup showed up uninvited to one of the Sunday afternoon picnics. He slunk around, trying to blend in. Charlotte spotted him and watched him sidle up to one of the wives who lived in a staff bungalow with her husband, a wispy-looking design engineer who was on the field playing cricket. Charlotte was on to them immediately. The woman was older than Jessup, obviously flattered by his attention. Charlotte nodded to Lou who quickly grasped the situation. He walked over to Jessup who, seeing him coming, moved toward Wallis and Molly and stood close to them.

  “What are you doing here?” Lou asked.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I thought this was a general thing for the workers on government property,” Jessup said pleasantly.

  “You’re wrong and you know it, Jessup.”

  Wallis was listening.

  “I’m awfully sorry, sir. I wouldn’t have dreamt of coming—I was just tryin’ to be sociable,” Jessup said humbly, looking at Lou while shooting appealing sideways glances at Wallis.

  “You need to leave, right now!” Lou barked.

  “Wait. Don’t be too hard on the man,” Wallis said. “Let him stay today.” Lou glared at Jessup, who stared meekly back at him with a hint of pleasure.

  “Well, that’s awfully kind of you, sir,” Jessup said, smiling at Wallis. “I will stay a while. I think I’ll try some of the ladies’ English trifle. Looks awfully delicious.” He looked at Lou, smiling sweetly, and then with a wink, “I’m awfully sorry, sir. I really had no idea—honest!” Jessup snuck off and took up again with the woman he was trying to bed.

  Lou and Charlotte went home.

  The following week, Jessup tipped the scales, putting his own health in serious jeopardy. As Lou walked to the other end of the shed searching for one of the foreman, Jessup came up behind him with his gang. “Look who’s here, boys. It’s our great American hero—hero my arse!”

  “Get back to work, Jessup!”

  “This is the man who deserted his shipmates, boys. They came up with a big story for the papers. He saved this one and he saved that one. He was hiding in the tail of his balloon wiv all them other gutless Yanks,” Jessup yelled. “He ain’t no bleedin’ hero. He just got lucky! Then, what do they do? They give him a job here so he can knock off his old woman in a bloody government caravan—right here. Talk about benefits on the job!”

  Lou went to Jessup and stood close. Jessup stared at Lou in surprise. Lou spoke quietly and the others gathered around trying to hear above the construction din. “Jessup, look at me. Look at me.” They stood, their noses almost touching. Lou continued, while Jessup smirked. “Now listen. I’m going to ask you to knock it off, for your own good. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  Jessup whooped. “Oh, listen to ’im, boys. He doesn’t want anything bad to ’appen. And it’s all for me own good!”

  “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’ll be bad. D’you understand?” Lou said.

  Jessup grinned. “Nothing’s gonna change, Yank. I’m gonna keep on ’til you’re gone from ’ere and you and yer wife are history.”

  “Okay, Jessup, this is how it’s going to be.”

  Jessup put his hands on his hips. “Come on, tell me, Yankee boy.”

  “Old Hinkley’s Farm.”

  “Yeah, what about Hinkley’s Farm?”

  “One hour. Be there. Bring one of these knuckleheads with you. You’re gonna need help. But only one,” Lou said, holding up one finger and glaring at the three stooges gathered around Jessup.

  “Blimey. What d’yer know. I do believe he wants to fight. All right. One hour, then.”

  Jessup was thrilled. Lou turned away, making for his office.

  “We got ’im now, boys. Damn! We got ’im now!” Jessup crowed.

  20

  OLD HINKLEY’S FARM

  Summer 1927.

  Lou put on his construction boots. In the bottom drawer of his desk he had an old black T-shirt and a pair of dungarees. He pulled them out and slipped them on. He left the shed and crossed the old railway line toward the perimeter of the field, walking briskly to loosen up. Lou trotted and walked alternately along the edge of the airfield toward the wood on the well-trodden path. Stepping along a fallen log, he crossed a small stream and disappeared into the forest, passing a bevy of deer.

  Inside the tree line, the sound of birdsong increased. So did the drumming of rain drops from leaves overhead. He turned and retraced his steps after a mile or two and ran back past the animals. Feeling good, he jogged toward the aerodrome, re-crossing the spur railway line and onto the muddy field. His head and chest were clear, his blood pumping steadily, pushed by a strong heart. He took deep breaths of the damp, misty air drifting over the marshes from the river.

  During his exercise, which was as much about psyching himself up to fight as anything, Lou planned his strategy. He must stay in control. Not lose his temper. Not kill anyone—although that might be difficult. He didn’t want to be responsible for another man’s death and go to jail, or worse. He had too much to live for: to be with Charlotte and take care of her. He hated this. He thought he’d left it all behind. He ran to the end of the air station and back across the field. It started to drizzle again. He entered his office in the shed and was putting on his motorcycle jacket when Norway appeared in the doorway.

  “Lou, oh, are you leaving?”

  “I’m gonna pop out for twenty minutes. Anything important?”

  “No. I wanted to ask if you and Charlotte…”

  “Nevil. I’ve got a meeting with someone. I don’t want to keep him waiting. Can we go in your car? We can talk on the way. It’ll save me getting wet on the bike.” They headed for Norway’s green three-wheeler parked outside the shed. Lou looked at it and smiled. Norway was so proud of this funny little car. They climbed in. It smelled of Balkan Sobrani.

  This thing fits Nevil’s personality perfectly and he’s just so content.

  Norway turned the key. After a few attempts, the engine sputtered to life. They chugged jerkily down the road, leaving a trail of blue smoke from the tail pipe. “She’ll be all right in a minute,” Norway said.

  “Follow this road for two miles. So, what’s up, Nev?”

  “I wondered if I could take you and Charlotte to dinner this evening. They’ve just opened a new restaurant in Hull. I can take you in the car.”

  “What’s the occasion?”
/>   “I want to celebrate. My new novel’s been accepted by the publisher.”

  “’Hey, Nev, that’s great. Well done!”

  “I also wanted to ask if you’ve read my new manuscript.”

  “As a matter of fact, we both have. We liked it. Sure, we can meet up for a chat. You know you should think about doing a story about building the two airships—you know, like rivals—a big adventure and all that.”

  “Hmm, maybe. We’ll see how this saga turns out, but I expect it’d be dreadfully dull,” Norway replied. They followed the road to the junction known as Old Hinkley’s Farm.

  “Here, Nev. Pull over on the grass, if you don’t mind.”

  They were deafened by the roar of four motorcycles wildly revving up behind them. “W-what the heck is going on?” Norway said. “I b-believe they’re t-trying to int-t-timidate us.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. It’s my guy. They’re having a bit of fun that’s all. He and I are going to have a little talk. Wait here. I won’t be long.” Norway peered uncertainly at the four hostile bikers. They kept looking over at the car and laughing as they pulled their motorbikes onto their stands.

  “Brought yer protection with yer then, Lieutenant?” Jessup said, grinning.

  “Hey, Jessie, that’s ’is armored car,” one with rodent features shouted.

  “It’s right sporty!” said the tall one with no hair and snake eyes.

  Lou saw Norway becoming increasingly unnerved. “I told you to bring one knucklehead, Jessup, not three,” Lou growled.

  “Yeah, well, they all wanted to come. They wanna see your guts splattered all over this field,” Jessup said, pulling out a pack of Gold Flake. He lit one with a steel lighter and sauntered after Lou, the cigarette dangling from his mouth. Lou climbed over the five bar gate, pulled off his motorcycle jacket and carefully hung it on the gatepost. The gang of four followed Lou, who looked back at Norway leaning nervously on the gate. Lou spent the next seven minutes metering out punishment to Jessup and two of his gang. He allowed one to escape injury so he could render assistance to the others.

  After Lou had done his worst, he ambled back to the gate. Norway looked sick.