by Dan Walsh
As promised, the flight sergeant arrived just as they finished up their meal. Outside, a lorry waited on the curb, similar to the one that had brought them from London except it was uncovered. He drove them around and showed them a few of the other buildings on this side of the base, explained their purpose, then spun the truck around and headed for the airplane hangars at the other end.
There were five of them, each of a similar massive size. Parked inside and outside they saw a variety of planes all painted in typical RAF colors. Mostly Airspeed Oxfords and Blenheims, both mid-sized two-engine planes. And only one type of single-engine plane that resembled a Spitfire, but wasn’t nearly as sleek and attractive.
“What is that?” Ozzie asked.
“Looks kind of like a Spit,” Joe said. “Like maybe it’s ugly stepsister.”
“That, gentlemen, is called the Miles Master,” the flight sergeant said. “It’s a two-seater trainer. Something to get you ready to fly the ‘urricane and the Spitfire. She ain’t pretty, but you’ll be surprised by ‘er power. That’s what you’ll be flying in the morning.”
After it was obvious the tour was over and the truck was heading back toward the barracks, Seth said, “We didn’t even see a single Hurricane or Spitfire. What’s the deal?”
“That’s because there aren’t any ‘ere. Not yet anyway. As you can see by the size of those ‘angars, this was supposed to be a bomber base. Because of what’s happening in France, all that’s changed. That’s why they sent you blokes ‘ere. We need to fly fighters out of ‘ere, and that right quick. We’re supposed to be getting a couple squadrons of ‘urricanes any day. Thought they might show up today. Maybe tomorrow then. They’ll put you through your paces in the Miles. Used to be, they’d train you in those for several weeks. You prove yourselves worthy, and you’ll be flying those ‘urricanes in a few days, I expect.”
“What about the Spitfires?” Joe said.
“I’m sure we’ll be getting some of them too. Exactly when I can’t say.” When he got to their barracks building, he stopped at the curb to let them out. “That’s it for now, Yanks. Guess you have the rest of the evening to yourselves.”
“Is there anything to do in…Middle Wallop?” Seth asked.
“That’s right,” the flight sergeant said, “you folks came in from London. You haven’t driven through town yet. Well, it’s not exactly a town then, is it? More like a village. You can see about checking out a staff car, if any are left. There’s a nice pub not far in Monxton, called The Black Swan. Just head back the way you came in, take the first left heading north. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes and you’re there.”
“Is that it?” Ozzie said. “One pub fifteen minutes away?”
“Afraid so,” said the flight sergeant. “But what’d you expect? They didn’t send you out here to ‘ave fun. Your ‘ere to fly them planes, shoot down the bloody Nazis.”
The men all piled out of the back of the lorry. All of them, except Jack, were eager to explore the area around the base, then head up to Monxton and find this pub. Jack said he was too tired and wanted to turn in early.
Which was true. But it was also true that he wanted to spend at least some time alone at the desk in his new quarters making a list of possible things he could do to narrow down the search to find his brother. So, he sent them on and headed inside the barracks.
He had just gotten himself situated at the desk with a pen and pad of paper when he heard a knock at the door. Who could it be? “Come in.” It was Joe. “You don’t need to knock, Joe. It’s your room, too.”
“I know. But I could tell, you weren’t just tired. Thought I might find you doing something like this.”
“Something like what? I’m just jotting down a few thoughts to get them out of my head.”
“So they don’t show up in your dreams?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, a couple of the guys had to take a leak, so I thought I’d make one last pitch for you to join us.”
“I’m okay. You go on, have some fun.”
“Jack…”
“What?”
“It’s this thing you told me about earlier, isn’t it? The family secret, about this brother you never met. It’s eatin’ at you. I can tell. But you need to find a way to let it go. At least lighten your grip on it a little. Something that big can find a way of taking over. And that won’t be good. It’s not safe.” Joe stepped all the way inside.
Jack turned around to face him. “It’s not taking over. That’s why I wanna write these things down. I told you, to get ‘em out of my head. And what do you mean it’s not safe? What does safety have to do with it?”
“Uh…tomorrow? Flying this new plane? You heard the sergeant. They’re gonna put us through the paces. That means see what we’ve got, what we can do in the air. They’ll probably have us doing all kinds of maneuvers, the kind that requires two-hundred percent concentration. You know what can happen, you get distracted. You’re in the middle of a tricky move, all it takes is losing focus a few seconds, and—BAM—that’s all she wrote.”
“That’s not gonna—”
“Don’t tell me it’s not gonna happen. You forget who you’re talkin’ to. Remember that air show in Iowa? What was that, just over a year ago? You got all hung up on that girl, and then she dumped you, and you got all bent out of shape over it? The next day we’re coming at each other full speed doing those barrel roles, and you missed your cue. I had to dive straight down to avoid smacking right into you. Barely had any time to pull up before I hit the ground.” He was yelling now. “Don’t tell me you don’t get distracted.”
Jack sighed. He had a point. And if for no other reason than to reward Joe for making all this effort on his behalf, Jack set the pen down on the pad and stood. “All right. You win. Let’s go.”
18
The next morning, the Americans were awakened at 6AM, told to get dressed, have breakfast, and the lorry would be waiting for them outside the mess hall to take them to Hangar three.
Once there, they observed three of these single-engine planes, called the Miles Master, lined up wingtip to wingtip just outside. A new officer they hadn’t seen before was there to greet them. He introduced himself as Flight Lieutenant Benjamin Henderson. He was there to both familiarize them all with the Miles Master then would serve as their chief flight instructor, the one who would qualify them to graduate to the Hurricane or Spitfire.
“I read all the information you provided about your flying experience up until this point,” Henderson said. “If any of you have exaggerated or embellished your abilities, now would be the time to speak up. As you’ve all heard, we expect a major air war to take place over the southern skies of England very soon. It is only this that forces us to allow you gentlemen to skip the two to three months of training we’d normally put you through. Once you step inside the cockpit of this plane, we will assume you are capable of doing everything you’ve said on these forms. If that is not the case, please see me before we go any further.”
He paused and looked at each man separately. No one spoke up or even moved. Jack involuntarily glanced at Seth, who seemed unfazed by what was said.
“All right then, let’s proceed.” From there, the lieutenant explained the various procedures involved in starting, taxiing and flying this particular plane, as well as some of the customary terms and phrases pilots in the RAF used to communicate with each other and the control tower during flight.
Ozzie noticed there were gun barrels on the edges of the wings and asked about them.
“They are there strictly for target practice,” Officer Henderson said. “There is no live ammo loaded on the planes today, but that will be part of your training soon.” He walked toward the planes. “Right, follow me. We only have three planes ready this morning and there are six of you. I and the other two flight instructors will sit in the back of each plane. Three of you will go first, the other three in the second round. Each check-flight will last approximately twenty
minutes. Split up into teams of two and choose among yourselves who will go first. It doesn’t matter to me. You will all be tested exactly the same.”
The group had already gotten used to Jack and Joe’s friendship, so no one was surprised when they paired up. Joe said he’d be happy to go first and Jack let him. Seth and Ozzie joined Joe to make up the first three. Soon the American pilots had donned their fighter gear, including a helmet and goggles and a parachute that hung down past their rear ends. It served as a seat cushion during the flight. Henderson showed them all how to mount up and, minutes later, they were strapped in. He sat in the back of Joe’s cockpit. Jack and the other two men backed up toward the hangar.
One by one, the plane engines turned on and revved up. Jack was shocked by how loud they were, easily twice the volume of a Jenny. His adrenaline instantly kicked in. All his anxieties and preoccupations disappeared. He was now officially excited and couldn’t wait for his turn to fly this plane. The flight instructors yelled instructions to the pilots, but he couldn’t hear what they said. Soon the planes taxied away from the hangar and moved in single file onto the grass runway.
They stood on the edge of the paved area watching as the planes traveled to the far end. One of the Americans walked back into the hangar and found a stack of wooden deck chairs. “Hey guys, grab one of these.”
For the next twenty-five minutes, Jack and the two other Americans sat back in the chairs and took in the show. It all seemed pretty basic to him, other than the obvious difference in the airplanes’ speed and power. It was almost shocking to see how much speed the planes gained when they dived and then, coming out of it, how quickly and how high they could climb. They zoomed way past the point his old Jenny would have stalled, and just kept rising.
The instructors were definitely taking them “through the paces.” But again, all of them basic maneuvers. In addition to the dive and climb, they did flat and rolling scissors, loops and barrel roles, breaking turns in both directions around a specific point on the ground. Then they rose high into a forced stall then down in a controlled spin and came out of the spin with plenty of altitude to spare. With a few variations, all the guys handled everything reasonably well.
Apparently, no one had exaggerated their abilities.
A few minutes later, the planes lined up behind each other in the air and circled the airfield once in a rectangular pattern. As they came around again, Jack saw the landing gear released and the flaps let down. Each plane descended onto the center of the grassy field, bounced a few times then slowed to a crawl. When they reached the end of the field, they taxied back toward the hangar.
“Guess it’s our turn, Boys,” Jack said and stood.
During an exhilarating thirty minutes, Jack repeated the same aerial maneuvers he’d seen Joe, Ozzie and Seth do, then led the trio of planes back down to the airfield. Before his flight, when Joe and Jack had exchanged gear, Joe was all smiles and said Jack was about to have the time of his life. Jack did. Flight Lieutenant Henderson sat behind Jack the entire time and said little, other than calling out tasks from his checklist for Jack to execute.
As Jack taxied through the final turn, taking the plane from the grassy field onto the tarmac, he headed for the hangar where Joe, Ozzie and Seth now stood. He was pretty sure he’d passed the lieutenant’s exam and was just about to ask how he did when Henderson said curtly, “That was quite impressive, Pilot Officer Turner.”
“Thank you, Sir. Want me to return the plane to the same spot we began?”
“Please.”
Jack did as ordered. The other two Americans followed right behind him. After the three men and instructors were all standing on the tarmac, Joe, Ozzie and Seth joined them. Jack wondered what came next.
Flight Lieutenant Henderson motioned for the other two flight instructors to join him several yards away. He said several things to them, the others nodded in agreement. They walked back to the group and asked the Americans to form a semi-circle around him. “Gentlemen, I’m happy to report that every single one of you passed the exam. My colleagues and I have conferred and we feel confident enough to proceed to the second level of testing, which is allowing each of you to fly the same plane and do the exact same maneuvers, but as a solo flight.”
The Americans cheered. Clearly, no one was afraid to do this.
“I’m glad you are all so eager, but this is no time for bravado, gentlemen. If any one of you has any hesitation to do this, please speak up now. It will not be looked down upon or be cast as a strike against you. We will simply ask you to wait until the others have done their solo flights, and allow you to go up once more with an instructor. There is no shame in this. The stakes are too high, both in terms of your safety and the value of our airplane, to let your pride get in the way.” He stopped for a moment and looked at each of the men. “Do any of you want to fly once more with an instructor before you attempt a solo? Anyone?”
No one responded. Jack didn’t think anyone would. But the way the lieutenant spoke certainly injected a level of seriousness that wasn’t there a few seconds ago.
“Okay then,” Henderson said. “Since the final three are still wearing their flight gear, we’ll reverse the order. You three do the solo flights first, then the first three will go last.” He looked at Jack and the two guys who would fly with him. “Are any of you confident you remember all the maneuvers, and the order in which you flew them?”
Jack was the only one who raised his hand.
“Okay then, Pilot Officer Turner will lead the flight. You other two gents follow behind him. Leave as much space between you as you were directed to by your instructors. Right, off you go then.”
Jack couldn’t wait to get back in the cockpit. His mind was usually fairly calm and clear but when he flew it became razor-sharp. He hopped up into the plane, slid the canopy closed and instantly recalled everything he had done before. He went through each task as though the instructor were still behind him telling him what to do.
Soon he was taxiing onto the grassy airfield. He had to wait a few moments for the other two Americans to catch up. But they did and, one by one, they took off. Over the next twenty minutes, Jack pulled off every single maneuver in the proper order and with almost the exact same timing. One of the other men remarked that it felt like they were riding on a rail, repeating everything, even at the same altitudes as before. When they had finished, he led them in the same landing pattern as before. The planes touched down without a hitch and rolled back toward the hangar.
The pilots got out and walked over toward Joe, Seth and Ozzie who were heading their way.
“Piece of cake,” Joe said to Jack. “You were like a machine.”
Jack looked in Joe’s eyes, saw nothing but supreme confidence. They exchanged gear and Joe led the other two back toward the Miles Markers. This time, Joe led the trio in flight, since he had been more confident in his recollection of the flight maneuvers than Seth or Ozzie.
Jack, the other two American pilots and the three British flight instructors stood loosely together by the edge of the airfield and watched the planes take off. It went smoothly and soon they were rising to the correct altitude for the first maneuver. Jack didn’t just see what the trio of planes were doing in the air, he could also visualize everything Joe was doing in the cockpit.
Over the next twenty-five minutes, things were a little bumpier than in the first solo flight. At one point, it seemed that Joe must have forgotten something, because he circled around once without explanation. But then he was back on track, and they had only one flight maneuver left to complete.
The forced stall and controlled spin.
Joe pulled his off perfectly. His plane climbed out of it with several thousand feet of altitude left to spare. Seth came in right behind him and gave everyone a scare when he spun for two more seconds then Joe had, but he still pulled out of it with plenty of room.
Ozzie was next. Knowing this was the last maneuver of the exam, as Ozzie’s flight climbed to the
right altitude, Flight Lieutenant Henderson mentioned to the guys standing there how pleased he was that everything had gone so well. He said that afternoon two squadrons of Hurricanes were due to arrive, and that he—
Henderson stopped talking.
Suddenly, everyone gasped.
Something was wrong. Everyone could see it. It was the way Ozzie’s plane was spinning. It didn’t look right. He was getting closer and closer to the ground.
“He’s not coming out of it, sir,” one of the flight instructors said to Henderson.
Henderson sighed. “My God, no.”
“OZZIE!” one of the Americans screamed.
And then they all screamed as Ozzie’s plane finally pulled out of the spin, just in time to fly, nose-first, straight into the ground.
It exploded in a fireball.
19
Two hours later, the five remaining Americans sat around in wooden deck chairs in a grassy area just outside what the Brit pilots had nicknamed “The Hut,” something of a small headquarters building near the runway. All the men were still stunned by the sudden turn of events. The Group Captain had canceled all remaining flight activity, at least for the Americans, and he’d ordered the mechanics to give the rest of the Miles Masters a thorough going over, even though no evidence existed to suggest Ozzie’s plane had malfunctioned.
Ozzie had said nothing over the radio in those last remaining seconds before the crash. After everyone had run over to the site immediately after, it was obvious the plane had all but disintegrated in the explosion. Jack was certain they’d never piece together any mechanical cause, even if there was one.
“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Seth said. “Just like that. One slip, and he isn’t here anymore.”