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

by David Dennington

  “Where did these come from?” she snapped.

  “He left them for you.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “I’ll not leave them out there. They came with his love. I’ll keep them, even if you don’t want them,” Mrs. Hamilton said.

  “Do as you please.”

  “And there’s a letter for you.”

  “I said leave it be!”

  “You’ve never done right by him, you know. You kept him in the dark all this time. It wasn’t right!”

  “Don’t go on about that, Mother …anyway, it doesn’t matter now.”

  Charlotte sat down at the kitchen table, scowling at the envelope.

  Later, Mr. Hamilton returned from Ackworth Colliery. After getting them to unlock it, he came through the back door wearing his bicycle clips on his overalls, grimy with coal dust.

  “What’s that locked for?” He noticed the flowers, “Hello, hello. What’s all this? Have you got a secret admirer, Mrs. Lena Hamilton?” he said, smiling at his wife and then Charlotte. But then he saw they were both upset.

  “Lou’s been here and left them for our Charlotte. She wouldn’t open the door to him.”

  His face lit up for a second and then fell. “What! Has he gone?”

  “He was on foot. He walked back up to the station. Poor Lou, he looked so sad.” She started to cry again.

  “How long ago was this?”

  “He left about fifteen minutes ago. Oh, that poor boy …”

  “I’ll go up and see if I can catch him. I’ll bring him back.”

  “Don’t you dare, Dad!” Charlotte said.

  But Mr. Hamilton was resolute. He put his cap back on, rushed out the back door and jumped on his bicycle. He began peddling like mad.

  Sick at heart, he returned twenty minutes later. The station had been empty. Mr. Hamilton got washed in the kitchen, changed, and went to sit in his armchair by the fire. Mrs. Hamilton brought him a cup of tea and sat down. He lit a cigarette. Charlotte came and sat on the couch with Lou’s letter. It felt stiff and there was something else inside making it bulge. Mr. Hamilton turned on the radio beside him in time for the news. Charlotte tore the letter open and Lou’s ring fell into her lap. It stunned her and she felt a knife in her heart. She clasped it into her palm and closed it, hoping her father hadn’t seen it. But he had. She caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. After the sound of Big Ben striking the hour, there were six beeps on the radio and then the familiar BBC announcer’s voice. Charlotte was surprised to find the photograph as she pulled it out with Lou’s damp note. She read his brief words before raising her head to listen.

  ‘This is the BBC Home Service. It was announced today by the Air Ministry in Whitehall that His Majesty’s Airship Cardington R101 is expected to leave her mast in Bedfordshire on the 4th of October to begin her passage to India. The Secretary of State for Air, Brigadier General, the Right Honorable Lord Thomson of Cardington, will be on board for this, her historic maiden voyage…’

  Charlotte left the room with Lou’s letter, his ring still in her palm, and went to the attic bedroom where Lou had once slept. She sat on the bed and pulled out the photograph and studied it. Lou looked younger. He wore a sweater (she remembered it was light blue) and black trousers. She looked closely at his face. He was looking into her eyes and smiling with such love. She lay down, burying her head in the pillow. She thought about the things old Mrs.Tilly had said on her deathbed and remembered kissing the palm of her hand where his tears had been on that horrible, beautiful night in Hull. She opened her hand and looked at his ring.

  Lou’s anger simmered throughout his journey back to Bedford Station. He sat alone huddled in a carriage with his feet up on the seat opposite, trying not to shiver. On the journey up to Yorkshire earlier, he’d mulled over the idea of foregoing the voyage to India and quitting airship business altogether. He had a good excuse. He could’ve said he needed to rush back to see his dying father. He’d thought about taking Charlotte with him. They would’ve taken a steamer from Liverpool to Montreal (as he’d dreamed of doing) and then hopped on the train to Union. But that would’ve meant deserting his captain and his crew and leaving them to their fate with that damned airship. Would he have done it? For her, yes. For her, he would’ve done it! Then he thought about the guilt that would’ve been associated with that—especially if something happened to them all. But she wouldn’t open the door, so it was all moot. And, in some ways, he was glad.

  What the hell! It doesn’t matter. I’ll fly with them and take my chances. I could care less now anyway.

  He couldn’t help thinking of Charlotte’s words when Freddie died.

  That ship is cursed! And this city is cursed. And we’re cursed, too.

  He looked at the impression on his ring finger where his wedding ring had been. Perhaps she was right. He dwelt on what she’d said as the train approached Bedford. He thought about Cardington R101. It wasn’t up to Howden R100—although that ship was Spartan and without frills—it didn’t even have any damned fuel pumps for God’s sake! Cardington R101 was ornate and bloated, a testament to overspending and a desire to impress.

  I’ll talk to Colmore again. I’ll give it another try. You never know, he might grow a set of balls—but I doubt it. Time’s getting short.

  Richmond had conscientiously done his best to design a strong airship that wouldn’t break in two, and this and the extravagant touches, had caused her to come out heavy. And now they’d added an extra bay—what had that done to all their calculations and to the factor of safety? Lou still didn’t know if the ship was really and truly airworthy. He hoped they’d find out more during the twenty-four hour test. But the lack of testing was crazy! And for what? To satisfy an old martinet, hell-bent on using it as his own personal plaything! It was maddening. Colmore was maddening! They were all maddening!

  This just ain’t no way to run an empire!

  Had Cardington R101 become the symbol of the Empire—too big, too heavy, too vainglorious to fly?

  Lou got home late, after stopping at The Swan in Bedford near the old bridge, where he downed a pint of bitter and a couple of double whiskies. He didn’t expect them to be up, but Norway and Billy were waiting to hear his news. Lou sat down with Norway while Billy made a pot of tea.

  “We’re dying to know. Did you see her?” Norway asked.

  “They wouldn’t answer the door.”

  “What!”

  “I’m positive she was home. I saw her coat hanging in the hallway. The fire was burning. Place was locked up tighter than Dick’s hatband.”

  “Who’s Dick?” Billy asked.

  “You tried the door?” Norway asked.

  “I tried the back door.”

  “It was locked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nobody locks their doors up there. Especially the back door.”

  “I guess somebody must've seen me coming.”

  “Probably. Did you try the front door?”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  Lou was mad with himself. “You know something—if she’d let me in and said ‘Give it all up,’ I’d have done it right then and there. She obviously doesn’t care for me anymore and that’s that,” Lou said.

  “Damn!” said Billy.

  “What happened with the flight test?” Lou asked.

  “Irwin took his ship up today. They had the new AMSR on board—Air Vice-Marshall Dowding. He knows absolutely nothing about airships.”

  “Sounds a lot like you, Nev. Are they doing the twenty-four hour?”

  “It got shortened to sixteen hours. Booth told me this afternoon.”

  “What about the forty-eight hour?”

  Norway put on his most exasperated face. “No time for that.”

  “Irwin’s gonna be mad as hell. It’s flat calm out there. No use at all!”

  79

  A FEW LOOSE ENDS

  October 2, 1930.

  The following day, Lou sat at the kitchen table and wro
te some letters. The first was to his mother: After delivering the bad news, he’d try to keep the rest positive.

  58, Kelsey Street,

  Bedford, England.

  2nd October, 1930.

  Dear Mom,

  I am heartbroken and I have only myself to blame. Charlotte has left me and gone away. Please keep this to yourself for now. I guess Dad was right. Perhaps it was all a mistake. I hope he is not feeling too bad. Tell him I think of him always and I will be with him soon. I am praying for a miracle. I hope he is taking an interest in Jeb’s new house.

  We are off to India this Saturday aboard Cardington R101. I hope, all being well, to see you on my return. I will come home for good after we get back from India. My job here will have been done and there is no reason for me to stay—although I will miss this place and these people more than I can say.

  There’s a chance of a place on the U.S. Akron or Macon and I will probably try for one of them, unless I become a farmer! Give Dad my love—and also Tom, Anna and Julia, and of course, Jeb and family.

  Fondest Love, dearest Mother, your son, Lou.

  He took a long deep breath before addressing his next letter.

  58, Kelsey Street,

  Bedford, England.

  2nd October, 1930.

  President Herbert C Hoover,

  President of the United States of America,

  The White House,

  Pennsylvania Avenue,

  Washington, D.C. U.S.A.

  Dear Mr. President,

  Please forgive me for taking the liberty of writing to you, sir, but I believe it is important I do so. I served in France during the war with the Marine Corps and now I am serving as an airshipman with the U.S. Navy, seconded to the British Airship Program.

  I recently flew in the British Airship Howden R100 from England to Montreal and came to Washington, D.C., where I was met by a delegation of Army veterans who asked me to intercede on their behalf. I promised I would do my best to help. As you know, they are camped out in Anacostia and are lobbying for their Army Service Bonds to be paid now instead of later, due to the hardship caused by the depressed state of the economy.

  Therefore, I am respectfully appealing to you to help these men, who have done so much for our country, by urging the Congress to pass a bill which will give them financial relief and ease their suffering.

  Yours faithfully,

  Louis Remington Lt. Cmdr. United States Navy,

  Chief Petty Officer U.S.N. Airship ZR-2,

  Third Officer HMA Howden R100 and HMA Cardington R101,

  Special Assistant to Director of Airship Development of Great Britain.

  Lou wrote a similar letter to the senator in his grandmother’s district. Lou sealed the letters and took them to the pillar box on the corner. He next went to two insurance agents on the High Street in Bedford. At the first one, The Prudential, he took out a life insurance policy on himself for the sum of one thousand pounds, the beneficiary being Charlotte Remington of 11, Station Road, Ackworth, Yorkshire. The second, with the Pearl Life Assurance Company for the same amount, but with Mrs. Louise Remington of Remington’s Farm, Great Falls, Virginia, U.S.A. as beneficiary. The premiums were high, due to his occupation, but he paid the money willingly.

  Lou stopped next at Midland Bank, also on the High Street, where he arranged for a draft of one hundred pounds to be sent to the new account he’d set up at Riggs Bank in Georgetown. This left him with ninety pounds in the joint account with Charlotte. No activity, apart from his own, had occurred in the account since she’d gone.

  Lou went from the bank to Needham and Finley, Solicitors-at-Law, where he asked the receptionist if he could get a will drawn up immediately. She told him to come back in an hour—Mr. Needham would take care of the matter personally.

  On his return, he was ushered into the white-haired solicitor’s office, a dark room surrounded by leather-bound books. Lou explained the will would be simple—he had few assets. Lou told the solicitor he was an airshipman aboard Cardington R101, which intrigued the old gentleman. On leaving, Mr. Needham asked Lou if he wouldn’t mind paying his bill before leaving the premises.

  At 6:00 p.m., Thomson sat at his desk at Gwydyr House. Knoxwood looked in to tell him his visitors had arrived.

  “Send them in and come in and take minutes, would you?” Thomson instructed.

  Colmore and the new AMSR (Air Member for Supply and Research) entered. Dowding was a tall man in his late forties, with graying hair and strong features. Thomson, though tired, perked up as soon as they came in, taking their hands and greeting them with warm smiles.

  “Come in, gentlemen, come in! Just a few loose ends to sort out this evening. How did the test go—well, I hope? That was her final—yes?”

  “Major Scott reported the test went well. ‘Wonderfully,’ actually. No major problems, except for the oil cooler,” Colmore replied.

  “Anything serious?”

  “Oh, not too serious, but it prevented them from doing the speed test.”

  “And what about the additional bay?”

  “The extra lift has helped considerably. No question,” said Colmore.

  “You were on board, Dowding?”

  “Yes. I must say, it was a most pleasant experience—surprised me!”

  This pleased Thomson.

  “I should point out that Air Vice-Marshall Dowding had to be back by 8 o’clock this morning, so it meant the ship only did sixteen of the twenty-four hour test. And of course, we’ve not done the forty-eight hour test—required in rough weather,” Colmore said.

  “Required by whom?”

  “The schedule drawn up by Captain Irwin.”

  “Oh, Irwin …” Thomson said.

  “I did ask the Air Ministry—which comes down to the Air Vice Marshall here—for permission to reduce the test durations,” Colmore said.

  Dowding shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The problem is, I’m not fully in the picture. As you know, I’ve only just assumed this position. I must be guided by the experts at Cardington.”

  Colmore explained, “We agreed that if Major Scott felt satisfied, there’d be no objection to shortening the twenty-four hour test to sixteen.”

  “And forgetting about the forty-eight hour?” Thomson asked.

  “Providing Scott’s comfortable. The test durations are really arbitrary. This’ll allow us to depart Saturday—providing you still want to proceed, that is—” Colmore said.

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Brancker popped his head in. “Ah, CB, I didn’t realize you were in conference. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. It’s important I talk to you,” Brancker said.

  Thomson waved him off. “Not now, Sefton. Come back about eight-thirty this evening. I should be free by then.” Colmore and Dowding appeared uncomfortable. Thomson had skillfully avoided Brancker all day and didn’t want him hanging around—he’d be eager to join this meeting and knew he’d have far too much to say. Brancker nodded and closed the door.

  Thomson picked up exactly where they’d left off.

  “Well, of course we’re going to proceed. We can’t delay the voyage any longer. I need to be back by the twentieth!”

  “We’ll make preparations, then,” Colmore said.

  “Can we get away on Friday, instead of Saturday?”

  “That wouldn’t be possible. It’ll take until Saturday to get the ship prepared, fueled and gassed up. And the crewmen need rest. They’ve been flat out for weeks.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course they do,” Thomson said.

  “It’s important we arrive in Ismailia around sunset—we need the smoother air,” Colmore explained. “If we leave Saturday evening, everything should work out just right.”

  “Look, I don’t want to rush things, Colmore. I bow to your superior judgment.” Thomson glanced at Knoxwood, to make sure he was taking all this down. “Where are we with the documentation?”

  Knoxwood held up the paperwork triumphantly. “The Airwo
rthiness Certificate and Permit to Fly are here, Lord Thomson,” he said.

  Dowding had been thinking. “About these tests: Would it be possible to complete some of them around Cardington when you leave the mast on Saturday evening before heading south?”

  Nobody spoke. On the face of it, it seemed like a daft idea. Thomson turned to Colmore. “Let me consult Scott,” Colmore said.

  Thomson slipped on his spectacles and shuffled his papers. “Let’s go through the passenger list.” He ran his finger down the names. “O’Neill. Who is he again?”

  “He’s the new Deputy Director of Civil Aviation in Delhi…Sir Sefton requested—”

  “Oh, yes, and Palstra?”

  “The Australian.”

  “Yes, right. I don’t see Buck’s name here,” Thomson said frowning.

  “Buck! Who is Buck?” Colmore asked.

  “My valet, of course.”

  Colmore became flustered. “I didn’t know anything about a valet, sir.”

  “I can’t do without Buck! And what about the blue carpet?”

  Colmore grimaced. “Yes, sir. We had to remove the parachutes and cut down the crew’s luggage limit to ten pounds to accommodate that—in part, anyway.”

  “Colmore, we’ve just spent thousands on installing a new bay. Now you’re fussing over a bit of carpet and my valet!”

  Colmore kept his mouth shut.

  “Okay, let’s talk about the banquet. As you know, I’ll be entertaining the King of Egypt during our stopover in Ismailia. No refueling operations will be allowed in Egypt—understood?”

  Colmore couldn’t hide his astonishment. His eyes popped and his jaw dropped.

  Dowding came to the rescue. “You planned to carry only enough fuel to reach Egypt and then refuel there, Wing Commander—is that right?”

  “Yes. Of course. It’s a weight issue.”

  “Impossible! You will not be permitted to refuel in Egypt. The stench of diesel fuel would be intolerable—we’re entertaining the King of Egypt, man!” Thomson snapped.