Oxford University

by Ed Nelson

  “This story will be worth another month of beers. I may keep you around for a while.”

  He then had me return to the field where I managed to land without bouncing it more than once. He didn’t seem perturbed with that. The wind had kicked up and a crosswind had started so I felt like I was landing sideways.

  Back inside the flight center, he signed off on my logbook as having passed both visual and instrument requirements. He then took me to the base Wing Commanders office where with a photographer present I was given my wings.

  My grin would have done in a chuckle lion.

  We shook hands all around and went to the Officers Club for lunch. The club was busy this rainy day and a lot of people came up to congratulate me. I had fame in certain circles. I was proud to be well known by this group of professional airmen.

  As always I had publicity photographs in my Jepsen case so I had put a stack in my jacket pocket. I had enough to go around but it was close. The Wing Commander was taken aback at first but then realized that it was a way of life for a Hollywood actor.

  On the whole, he must have thought I was a strange bird. He was too polite to say so, but from some of his questions, you could see he didn’t know what to make of me. He did tell me he had met Viscountess Jackson during the war and could see where I had come from.

  As I was taking my leave he came up with a statement out of the blue. Pass the word to your superior at the Messengers that if they want you to start jet training after your term at Oxford ends they have to get the request in soon. The summer class will fill up quickly people like to fly in the sunshine.

  I could relate to the sunshine comment. I also made a note to call Mr. Norman to see if he would nominate me for the training. I have had it on my mind for some time now, but if I could get the RAF to pay for it, that would be great. Also, they would have better toys to play with, I’m into better toys.

  The flight home went like a dream. I took a leaf out of my driving on the wrong side of the road practice and talked myself through it. If there was ever a time that I could let my mind wander this was it. I felt like I was flying without the airplane. I had a real set of pilot’s wings!

  Mr. Hamilton met me at the door, I don’t know how he knew when I was arriving but he was always there. He quickly congratulated me on my wings.

  Mum and Grand Mum were in a sitting room watching TV and knitting. They both were quick to give me a hug and their congratulations. It was great to be around people who were happy for me. Dad was usually at home at this time so I called and let him know. He also gave his congratulations.

  I didn’t mention the jet training to either parent. It wasn’t a done deal, and of course, it was better if I was told by the Messenger service that I was scheduled for the training, and it was always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

  We talked for a while. Mum told me she had a request for me. Now that Grand Mum was all settled she was heading back to the States. Could I fly her to London Heathrow next Wednesday? Of course, I could.

  Sunday I was on the practice green at the golf course when the Oxford coach showed up with his players. I noticed one guy who hung back. I was pretty sure he was the one who had made the comments about how good they were and I shouldn’t waste my time by trying out for the club.

  I didn’t hold it against him so I just introduced myself around and pretended I had never seen him before. He played it the same way. No sense in having bad blood where it isn’t needed.

  They asked if I was going to play. I told them I hadn’t planned on it. They finally talked me into playing against their coach. It was done in a nice manner. The only problem I had was that I hadn’t even walked the course. Surprisingly the guy who had talked down to me volunteered to caddy for me.

  The rest of them were going to follow as a gallery. This course unlike the American courses with foursomes only allowed twosomes, with an occasional threesome with special permission.

  I must say I was given good advice on every shot. The golf gods smiled on me that day and I avoided the obvious problems, well except that bunker protecting the green on the twelfth hole. That made me Bogey. Other than that it was a fine round ending up one under par.

  I think the gallery was suitably impressed. The coach asked me if I would reconsider joining the team so they could use me at Cambridge. From the supportive comments, I realized that one of them would gladly surrender their position on the team just to beat Cambridge.

  I declined their offer and wished them luck. I joined them for a late lunch in the clubhouse. That gave me a chance to mention that I had received my RAF pilot’s wings the day before. As they say, it’s not bragging if you have done it.

  That opened the flood gates, the guys started asking questions about my career and any other honors I had received. After a while, I realized it might not be bragging but it can become embarrassing. I finally pled another commitment and tried to flee. I say tried to flee because I had forgotten one small detail. My golf clubs wouldn’t fit in my Aston Martin. The Oxford coach was kind enough to set me up with a team locker. He may have been planning ahead for next year.

  I had no sooner walked into the house somehow evading the ever-present Mr. Hamilton than Mum told me I was to return Mr. Norman’s call. When I called him I received my first assignment. I had to fly a gentleman from London to Paris tomorrow.

  It meant I would have to skip another lecture series. They didn’t take attendance so that wouldn’t be a problem. I had taken to using each lecture period following the notes and the lecture, or just going over the notes if the lecture was indecipherable like the Chinese gentleman.

  I would have to make up the study time for those missed lectures, as long as it didn’t mess up my pub night. It was the highlight of my week. My circle of acquaintances there had widened. I came to know most of them by playing darts against other tables.

  Not that I was getting better but I had found out that not all Englishmen were natural-born dart players so I wasn’t considered too much of a handicap, just a minor one. As I would stop to talk to the person I had met I would be introduced around the table.

  It was an ever-changing crowd mostly from Trinity. I didn’t become close friends with any, but it was nice when someone would greet you when going to class.

  Anyway, I had my first assignment. While on the phone with Mr. Norman I told him about the opportunity to take training to fly jets.

  “Are you ready to buy one?”

  “If you will get me into the class I will research the market and see what can be done.”

  “I will make a few phone calls and let you know.”

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead, that raised another issue. Most jets required a crew. How would that be handled?

  Chapter 31

  Monday I flew to London Heathrow. Waiting there was Mr. Norman with a gentleman I had never met before. As I started to introduce myself Mr. Norman told me it wasn’t necessary, Mr. Smith wouldn’t be talking on the flight and the only thing I needed to know was his last name for the flight manifest.

  It is less than 300 miles from London to Paris so it was only about two hours gate to gate. During that time I gave some instruction to my passenger, like buckle up but that was it. I had no idea why he was going to Paris. What I thought was most telling was that he didn’t have a Queens Messenger tie, pin, or satchel.

  After landing and taxiing to the private passenger area and exiting he gave me a curt, “Thank you.”

  I nodded my head in return. With my, “Buckle up,” and his, “Thank you,” the honors were even, I wasn’t giving him another word. While my craft was being refueled I went over to flight operations to make certain there were no changes in the weather and to file my return flight plan.

  There was a commotion at the window looking out at the runway. I wandered over to check it out. A passenger jet aircraft I was unfamiliar with had just landed and was taxiing to a large hanger. One of the pilots standing there told me that it was a Tupolev Tu-
114, a Soviet Union passenger jet. Chairman Khrushchev was visiting President De Gaulle.

  I wondered if my recent passenger had anything to do with that.

  After the Tu-114 was in the hanger we were allowed to go out to our planes and get in the queue to take off. I was something like the fifteenth plane inline and had to wait for half an hour. I was really glad I hadn’t had that Coke I had thought about.

  I flew right back to Oxford and then called Mr. Norman to let him know that the flight went as planned. I also mentioned seeing Khrushchev’s plane come in. His only comment on that was, “Interesting.”

  I suspect he was in the dark about my passenger as I was. Well, our job is to deliver the mail, not read it.

  After that I returned to school, well I got as far as my comfy garage and spent the afternoon between lectures catching up or trying to keep ahead on what I had missed. This was not as easy as high school. The information dump was about twice as much, twice as fast.

  I told Mum about my flight to Paris and what I had observed. She wanted to know what my passenger had said so I related our conversations one hundred percent verbatim. She asked me for a physical description which I gave, medium height, brown hair, and eyes, in general nondescript. She got a small smile and changed the subject.

  I spent the rest of the week getting ready for mock examinations. These were designed to help the student prepare to sit exams by sharing advice on revision, time management and regulations, whilst enabling one to become familiar with the exam venues. That was the official description. They were telling us how to prepare for and take the test.

  The final exams were not specifically by subject but rather by degree except at the mock test stage where there was an exam for each subject. What blew my mind was the fact these weren’t required. Oxford’s version of college was that you could miss every class and laboratory, sit for the final exam and if you passed you received your degree. Bellefontaine High it wasn’t.

  Oxford had to have some sort of policy about being admitted as a student paying for the full courses or they wouldn’t make any money. It was just after you paid your way in they didn’t care how you prepared for the test. They had offerings but if you could pass without them, that was fine.

  I really didn’t understand all their arcane rules, and I hadn’t investigated them at all. Maybe I was completely wrong about how it all worked. Since it didn’t affect my plans I wasn’t going to worry about it.

  Thursday night was spent celebrating my new wings and planning a return trip to Paris. They were interested in hearing about Khrushchev’s visit. I only told them I had to deliver an official package. It didn’t seem wise to say more.

  I also told them that I had my mock exams coming up and I wanted to have a fair shot to see how I really stood, so we would have to put our Paris flight back a bit. My celebration didn’t extend to drinking any alcohol. I had previously told the guys that it just didn’t agree with me so I wasn’t going to touch it.

  They could drink all they wanted and it wouldn’t bother me just as long as I didn’t have to join them. I put away the cokes like there was no tomorrow. Was I turning into a lush for caffeine? I guess we all have our vices.

  The next couple of days were a whirl, I had classes to attend and on Friday I had that series of mock exams. I had taken enough exams in my time to know that I did okay. These weren’t going to be all A’s but I felt like I had passed everything so if I kept on this course of action I would be able to pass the true exam for my degree. Of course, that would be some years in the future so I would have to spend a tremendous amount of time revising.

  I had even managed to go through the suggested reading books that I had ordered for The Meadows. I wasn’t way ahead of the course but I was keeping even with everything. Considering all I thought I was doing okay. I also made the decision to hire a tutor for every course I took. It worked so well with calculus it was a no brainer.

  Saturday and Sunday were down days for me. I had just completed a whirlwind of a week and needed to recharge. I read, exercised, and took naps. By Monday when I got up I was ready for another week. I hope it wasn’t like the last seven days.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t I was able to attend every lecture and felt like I was getting my studies back in line. On Friday I was asked by Mr. Norman to make a flight from London to Brussels on Saturday, this time to deliver a package. The trip was uneventful.

  On the way back across the channel, I was sightseeing on one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. Because I was rubbernecking I saw a small boat in distress. I knew it was in distress because it was upside down. I reported my sighting to the ATC. British ATC seemed more fragmented than the US. I had read in an aviation magazine studies were being performed to make it more like the US model.

  There were people clinging to the upside-down hull.

  ATC told me they would notify the Coast Guard. My fuel state was excellent so they asked me to loiter as long as I could to make it easy for them to be found. I was just beginning to think that I would have to leave when a Coast Guard cutter hove into sight. Actually, it seemed to grow out of the ocean as it came around the curve of the earth but I loved the word hove.

  I flew towards the ship waggling my wings. My radio came on with a message from the ship. They asked me to fly directly back to the distressed vessel so they could get a direct bearing.

  As I came close enough to the ship for them to get a good look at my aircraft I was asked, “When did the Queens Messenger Service start flying their own aircraft?”

  “This is the only one, it has been in service about three weeks now.”

  “This is Captain Edwards of Her Majesties Coast Guard ship Hotspur, to whom am I speaking.”

  “This is Sir Richard Jackson of the Queens Messengers Service, seconded to the RAF as a flight officer.”

  I might as well get all my cards on the table at once.

  “Well Sir Richard good job here today, how is your fuel status?”

  “On the low side, not bingo but getting close.”

  “How far are we from the ship?”

  “About three miles, you should be able to see it soon; I will start circling it until I have to leave.”

  It was only another ten minutes and they told me they had spotted the vessel and that I was free to continue on. I did but didn’t try to make it to Oxford as my fuel was getting low. I landed at Dover and refueled before returning home.

  I really didn’t give the events of the day another thought until the phone rang at The Meadows. It was a reporter wanting to know how I felt about rescuing Brigitte Bardot. My reply was it was the crew of Her Majesties Coast Guard cutter Hotspur that had rescued her, I had only pointed out the sailboat to them.

  I hadn’t even known it was a sailboat until the reporter told me. As far as Brigitte Bardot, I was glad she and others were rescued, but I was so high up that I could barely tell there were people there much less their sex.

  That didn’t stop the headlines in the scandal sheets, “Ricky saves Brigitte,” was the headline theme. I wonder when she will be having my baby.

  Once it started the phone kept ringing. Mr. Hamilton kept answering it politely with, “There is no comment at this time.”

  Grand Mum finally pushed him aside and answered the phone.

  “The Meadows, Ricky and Brigitte are too busy to come to the phone right now.”

  Then she would hang up. I now know where Mary’s telephone answering technique came from. She repeated this more than a dozen times and they all went away. I guess they had what they needed for a headline.

  The next morning I called Mr. Norman and reported that I had made the delivery to Brussels. He told me he figured out that I had since I had time to stop and pick up Brigitte Bardot. Ouch.

  I related the events and he laughed saying he thought it would be something like that. I told him was Grand Mum had said to the reporters. He got a kick out of that. I then asked if he had anything else coming up. He didn’t but the
nature of the beast never gave much warning.

  He had the grace to bring up that he realized that I had been made a Queens Messenger as a reward and that it had never been their intention to put me to work. However, the convenience of having an airplane available was too good to pass up. He would have to look into getting one put into their budget next year.

  I reminded him that the cost of the aircraft over a period of time was not the major share of cost. It was maintenance, fuel, facility, and aircrew that run up the costs.

  He told me he understood and maybe he would leave things as they were, the RAF was providing aircraft hanger space and maintenance. I was flying for free using my own airplane and fuel.

  When he put it that way I informed him I would be having my accountants come up with a cost package to submit for payment. He quit laughing at that point.

  I had to do some research at the university's main library, the Bodleian Library. Before they would let go to the study area I had to swear an oath:

  “I hereby undertake not to remove from the Library, nor to mark, deface, or injure in any way, any volume, document or other object belonging to it or in its custody; not to bring into the Library, or kindle therein, any fire or flame, and not to smoke in the Library; and I promise to obey all rules of the Library.”

  I now see why I had to swear that I wouldn’t bring a lighted candle into the library at The Meadows.

  It worked as the Library of Congress in that you would request a book and it would be brought to you. When done with the tome you left it on a cart for restacking. Maybe the Library of Congress got this from the Bodleian as it was several hundred years older. Not having been in the Library of Congress I didn’t know if you could bring a lighted candle or not.

  I swear the place even smelled old. Probably books slowly rotting over the centuries. The main hall was at least three stories tall and lined with bookcases, above that there were rows of windows. The place was well lit with lamps on all the tables. There were two rows of work tables going the length of the hall. I imagined several hundred people could work in the main room at one time.