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

by David Dennington

  “We’ve nowhere to go. We’ll be here ‘til we get the money—or until we starve or freeze to death, I guess.”

  “How many of you are there?” Anna asked.

  “Right now, ten thousand. We expect that number to increase to fifty thousand. Hundreds are pouring in every day.”

  Sgt. Terry poured out coffee from a pot into a tin mug and gave it to Lou.

  “It’ll be a public health nightmare,” Lou said, taking a sip. The coffee was lukewarm and bitter. He’d had worse in the trenches—much worse.

  “We’re pretty disciplined—we’re running this place like an army camp, as we were trained. We have latrines dug and supervised, and kitchens of sorts.”

  “I’m here for a week. Tell me what I can do to help.”

  “You’re well known, sir. Could you write or meet with a congressman or two? And write to the President on our behalf?”

  Lou saw Tom looking at him with new-found respect, with perhaps a hint of remorse in his eyes. Anna and Tom couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

  “If I can help, I will. There must be a lot of things you need.”

  “What about medicines and food and stuff like that?” Anna said.

  “Yes, all of that, and water, and soap. We need doctors and nurses, and some decent tents. We could use some lumber.”

  “What about the people here? Are they peaceful?”

  “We’ve been trying to establish good relations with the police. There are elements trying to stir up trouble—they want a full-blown revolution.”

  “Communists?”

  “Yes. But there are only a handful.”

  “It’s important no one makes trouble, or your cause will be lost,” Lou said. He pulled out his wallet and put twenty-five dollars on the table.

  “Take this. It’s not much, but it’ll help a little,” he said.

  Henry was humble, but delighted. “Thank you, Lou. You don’t know what it means to have your support,” he said.

  Lou finished his coffee and stuck out his hand. “We must go now. I’m staying with my folks in Virginia. Let me think about this.”

  They drove away from the camp depressed.

  “We must help those poor people. Did you see those kids?” Anna said. “We must take food over there.”

  “They need more food than you’ve got, Sis,” Lou said.

  Tom remained deep in thought. It was his turn to be speechless.

  Back at the farm, they found a black Ford sedan parked near the house, a driver at the wheel. A woman in her early thirties stood on the porch talking to Mother.

  “This is Helen Smothers from the Washington Post. She wants to talk to you, Lou,” Mother said.

  The lady looked more like a fashion model than a reporter, her face exquisitely made up. She wore a white, wide-brimmed hat with a blue band, slightly cocked to one side, and a white jacket with wide lapels. Her skirt, to just below the knee, pinched at the waist, accentuated her graceful figure. She stepped forward, a perfectly manicured hand outstretched, her French perfume overpowering. Intense brown eyes held him in her gaze.

  “Commander Remington, I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance,” she announced, in a distinct Chicago accent. This woman was a go-getter.

  Lou took her hand. He looked around at Tom and Anna who signaled that they’d leave him to it.

  “Please, sit down,” Lou said, pointing to the couch and easy chairs on the porch.

  Mother reappeared. “Can I get you some iced tea?” she asked.

  “A pitcher would be nice, with lemons, if you have any, Mom,” Lou answered. He turned back to his visitor. “How can I help you, Miss Smothers?”

  “Commander, there are so many questions our readers have about you. First, I’d like to ask you about the ZR-2/R38 crash. Are you over that now?”

  “Yes, completely, but I don’t talk about it anymore.”

  “Of course. You have been in England for ten years now. Will you stay there? You’re married to an English lady, I believe?”

  “I’m pretty well settled, but you never know what tomorrow will bring. I love England almost as much as I love my wife, Charlotte.”

  Helen Smothers pressed Lou with questions for half an hour. He answered them carefully, taking his time while she took notes on a stenographer’s pad. He thought this woman could be helpful.

  “I was a marine before I went to England,” he said finally.

  “Ah, yes, you were in France, I believe?”

  “Yes. I went to see some of our veterans today.”

  Helen Smothers stopped scribbling for a moment and sat back. He had her full attention. Lou knew this’d add dimension to the piece she’d write.

  “What was your impression?” she asked.

  “I was deeply saddened by their plight and the appalling conditions they’ve been reduced to live in. I was totally stunned, if you want to know the truth, Miss Smothers.”

  “You feel they should get the money?”

  “Have you been to Anacostia Flats?

  “No, not personally.”

  “Then you should. I think the country should do everything in its power to help and protect the men who faithfully served this nation and made great sacrifices.”

  “Perhaps I’ll do that, Commander.”

  “Please write down this name: Henry Faulkner. Ask for him when you go. Sit down with him and have a cup of coffee,” Lou said. “And please, don’t go dressed as you are now.”

  “I understand.”

  “Prepare yourself, Miss Smothers. It isn’t pleasant,” Lou said.

  Lou answered a few more questions and Helen Smothers thanked him for the interview. There would most certainly be something in the paper tomorrow and a feature article in the Sunday issue, she told him. She also intimated that she’d like to meet him again in the future—perhaps in more ‘unofficial capacity’.

  69

  JULIA

  Monday August 4, 1930.

  Lou spent the rest of the day helping Tom and Anna work on the vegetable gardens. He found it enjoyable and relaxing. Father, in his old, straw sunhat sat in a deck chair contentedly watching them and smoking cigarettes. Mother and Gran toiled in the kitchen making jam and bottling fruit. Later, they decided to have a quiet night, although Mother did warn Lou that Julia usually came by on Monday evenings. He sincerely hoped she would.

  Julia had lived next door to Gran’s place until she moved away twelve years ago with her parents to a big house in Georgetown. Over the years, her father had made a lot of money in business with his brother. Julia’s father died of leukemia three years after moving to Georgetown. She now worked with her uncle, attempting to take over her father’s shares in several businesses, including the largest lumber yard in Fairfax County—Tyson’s Lumber & General Hardware Corp.

  After dinner, Julia arrived in her burgundy Chrysler Imperial. They heard the sound of her tires on the driveway and the car door slam.

  “That’ll be Julia. She’s later than usual,” said Mother. “Why don’t you kids sit on the porch and catch up.”

  The three siblings went out as Julia was climbing the wooden steps. She wore a simple beige cotton dress in the latest fashion, tight at the waist with short sleeves.

  Lou was taken aback. She’d blossomed into an exceptional woman, exuding class and style. Her blond hair fell to her shoulders and across her face, causing her to toss her head every so often. Her almond-shaped, hazel eyes radiated wisdom, confidence and patience. She wore a hint of blush, accentuating high cheekbones and perfect skin.

  “Well, look at you!” Lou said. “You’re so beautiful, Julia.” While Tom and Anna looked on, they embraced, holding each other tightly. Lou kissed her cheeks. She’d never been one to show much emotion—always calm and collected, but for her, he sensed this was a big moment.

  “Look at her, Tom—isn’t she absolutely gorgeous!” Lou said.

  He saw the flash of jealousy in Tom’s eyes.

  “She’s the most beautiful
girl I know,” Tom replied.

  Lou knew instantly his brother was in love with her. Father stepped out onto the porch and smiled at Julia. He pointed at her.

  “Now that’s the girl you should have married—that girl right there! But what do you do—you go off to become a big shot with your uppity British friends. They don’t make ’em like this one anymore. You made a big mistake there, boy!”

  Lou was mortified. He glanced at Tom and saw both acquiescence and annoyance in his eyes. But Tom had already made his feelings plain earlier in the day. Father looked at Tom and turned around and went back inside the house, shaking his head in disgust. Everyone continued without comment, but Father’s words hung in the balmy air like a bad odor on this hot, still night. Julia’s eyes glistened.

  “Let’s sit down, shall we?” Anna said.

  Lou sensed Julia and Anna were close and suspected they confided about most things. Mother appeared with lemonade on a tray and put it down on the table in front of them.

  The four chatted long after dark. Lou went over the events of his life since he’d seen Julia in 1920. Lou expressed sympathy about her father’s death and she was grateful. His passing had been a blow and now, according to Anna, her uncle had seized control of everything, including most of the family fortune. Lou got the impression Julia wasn’t all that fond of Uncle Rory.

  A full moon had risen, casting a pleasant light across the drive, paddock and river beyond. The noise of the night insects and cicadas started up all around them in the trees, some with an overpowering ratcheting sound, accompanied by a loud purr. This subtropical racket was hypnotizing, coming and going from area to area as the swarms took their turns. Anna made excuses, saying they’d things to do, and got up, silently signaling to Tom. Tom reluctantly followed her into the house. Lou realized he’d been set up. Well, it didn’t matter. He loved Julia very much. Always had.

  “We used to have a swing under that tree, remember?” he said, gesturing toward the large oak on the edge of the paddock.

  Julia nodded and smiled. “You kissed me there as the darkness fell.”

  He detected animosity in her voice. “Yes, I did.”

  “I remember it well, Remy,” Julia said flatly. “That was the day I fell in love with you … the day I made up my mind to have your children.”

  This came as a serious blow. He was being pummeled from all sides. He sensed Julia had a lot more to say and was mulling things over. This was going to be a serious reprimand.

  “Lou, when you went off and joined the Marine Corps, I was devastated.”

  “It was a dumb thing to do,” Lou said.

  “I decided to wait for you.”

  “Julia, I’m—”

  She held up her hand to silence him. “No. I want to tell you—so you fully understand.”

  Feeling small, Lou sat silently, worried about what was to follow.

  “I knew you’d joined up under age and thought for a long time you wouldn’t be sent to war, and then I heard you were on a ship bound for France. I prayed to God He would return you home safely.”

  “And He did,” Lou said.

  “Yes, and I thanked Him for it. I was truly grateful. And I waited. Then you joined the Navy.” She rolled her eyes and laughed sarcastically. Lou felt horribly guilty, appreciating the extent of her bitterness and his perceived betrayal. She hadn’t shown these feelings at the time—or had he been too blind and dumb to notice?

  “You went off to England and I was happy for you. You were doing exactly what you wanted and you’d soon come back in a new airship. I longed to see you. I went over everything time and time again. I’d be waiting at the hangar in New Jersey and watch you descend from the heavens—and later, I’d become the proud wife of an airshipman.”

  Lou’s mind was racing. Had he lead her on when he’d last seen her? Surely not. At least not to that degree. She obviously thought so. And so did his family.

  “Julia, I’m so sorry.”

  She held up her hand again and went on, her breast heaving with uncharacteristic emotion as she relived events. “And then came the accident over the river in England. I went to church that day—it was a Wednesday—and lit a candle and prayed to God. I begged, ‘Please, God, spare Lou’s life again and I will never ask for anything—I will have no claim on him. I promise You'. And He did. Miraculously, you lived and you stayed and I was happy.”

  “Julia, after the crash, I couldn’t face coming home. I was riddled with guilt,” Lou said.

  “I understand completely. It was God’s will. He kept you from me.”

  Julia was calming down as if God had truly spoken to her. Lou felt wretched. She’d squandered her young life on him—such a magnificent girl. It was as though he’d left her at the altar. It felt strange and bizarre as he remembered thinking of her briefly at his wedding in St. Cuthbert’s. All the things his family had said about her spilled over him.

  What a heel!

  “Julia, what can I say?”

  “There’s nothing to say. God kept His bargain and so will I.”

  Lou looked at her. She was so different from Charlotte—so un-needy. He dreamed of what might have been for a moment and caught himself. They sat in silence with nothing more to be said. Lou admired her candor, her acceptance. She appeared to be at peace with her agreement, without self pity, at least on the surface.

  Suddenly, above the roar of the cicadas, they were disturbed by a commotion down in the trees on the path from the creek. In the flickering shadows, Lou could make out three horsemen riding toward the house. He stood up. Julia sat motionless.

  The riders were led by a squat, heavy-set figure on a striking Appaloosa, its head and front half jet black, its rear, black and white leopard-spotted. They were clad in white sheets, fluorescent in the moonlight, with pointed hoods over their faces, their narrow eye slits, satanic. The last Klansman, on a black quarter horse, had a rope attached to his waist, the other end knotted around Jeb’s neck. Jeb stumbled along behind, the whites of his eyes projecting his terror. Alice followed, carrying their two wailing children, all of them crying hysterically.

  “Please, don’t hurt him!” she screamed. “Please! Please! I beg you.”

  The other Klansman rode a chestnut mare. He stopped about twenty yards from the porch and planted a cross in the ground lashed to a spike. Lou smelled diesel. The ten-foot cross went up with a whoosh as it was lit. The flames accentuated the whiteness of their robes, making them more phantom-like—calling up the fires of hell. The first Klansman, stopping at the porch steps, spoke in biblical tones with the cadence of the South. While he delivered his ultimatum, the shining Appaloosa fidgeted with its feet, swishing its tail, nickering softly, the bit clinking between his teeth.

  “It’s come to our attention an illegal still is operating on this here property. The making of moonshine and the distribution of liquor is prohibited by federal law and will not be tolerated!” He lifted his arm like Moses, pointing at Lou. “You there, boy, tell this here nigger to lead us to that still right now, or tonight he’ll be hung by the neck from that tree over yonder, until he is dead!”

  He pointed to the oak tree where Lou had kissed Julia years ago. Alice let out a bloodcurdling scream, “Aaaaah, no! Please don’t! … No, no, please!”

  Jeb fell down on his knees, sobbing. At that moment, the two frenzied dogs came rushing from behind the house barking ferociously. Lou figured Father or Tom had let them out the back door. Lou eased his way along the porch and down the steps. The Klan could see clearly in this light, he was unarmed. He stared up at them—all high and mighty on their horses. The old, black mutt kept barking up at the leader.

  “You shut this mangy flea bag up, right now!” the Klansman yelled at Lou.

  “Moonshine, shut up!” someone called. Lou wasn’t sure who.

  “Moonshine!” the Klansman shouted in a fury.

  He drew a silver six-shooter and shot the dog through the head. Her bark trailed off into a scream as she fell down d
ead.

  “A dog with a name like that deserves to die,” the Klansman roared.

  Lou ran round to the back of the last Klansman and grabbed the rope, yanking it hard. The horse rose high in the air on her hind legs. The Klansman rolled backwards over the mare’s rump into a heap at Lou’s feet. Lou leapt onto the man’s back and pulled his wrist up over his head tugging the arm out of its shoulder socket. The man screamed in agony. The first Klansman raised his gun to shoot, but was shaken by a deafening shotgun blast. Now, the Appaloosa reared up with a snorting scream.

  “Keep those guns lowered,” Father shouted from the open front door.

  The two Klansmen sat still on their horses. “So what you gonna do now, mister? You got one left. My friend here an’ me, we’ll finish all a yer, including this punk down here.”

  Another voice screamed from a bedroom window. “Keep still, mister.” It was Anna. “I got two in this here twelve to blow both yer heads clean off.”

  “And I got another two, right here, you demons from hell,” Gran yelled from a ground floor window.

  “Go home, Uncle Rory,” Julia said calmly. “Go home right now.”

  “You don’t know who we are,” the leader shouted back.

  “It’s not hard to figure, Uncle Rory. You’re on my damned horse. Now go!”

  Lou untied the noose from Jeb’s neck and lifted the third whimpering Klansman from the ground and laid him over his horse on his stomach. He took the rope and lashed his feet and hands under the horse’s belly. He tugged on the man’s hood, and yanked his head up by the hair, exposing his young face.

  “Why you hiding that pretty little puss, huh?” Lou said. “Best be on your way now, boys, and don’t let the bogeymen getcha on the ride home.” He gave the horse’s rump a hard slap, making her start forward violently. While the fiery cross crumpled and smoked and its light diminished, the three Klansmen rode off into the night without further threats. Lou took Jeb back to the shack with his wife, who had settled down some.

  “They’ll come back. I just know they will,” she kept saying over and over.