Beneath Gray Skies (41 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“And not a word to anyone about what happened. Tell your fellow radiomen there was an accident on the ladder, but go easy on the details. He went up the ladder, the airship rolled, he slipped, hit his head, knocked the hoop off the ladder, you never saw it happen. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have two parachutes here, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir, we do. One more thing, sir?”

“Yes?” pausing with one foot on the ladder.

“Please take care going up there, sir. I think we’re all going to need you in the next few hours or so.”

“
My friend,” Goering turned to him, “this is Adolf Hitler, Führer—that is to say leader—and Chancellor of the German Reich.”

T
his was one of the most exciting days that David Slater could remember. Not only had he gotten to see the President for the first time in his life, but all the other members of the Cabinet were there as well, including General-in-Chief Harrison, Secretary of War, whose massive and imposing bulk was like the unstoppable Army of the Confederacy itself, thought David in one of his flights of patriotic fancy. Then he’d noticed Harrison’s canes, and wondered if his simile was so apt after all.

Colonel Vickers, for whom David was still acting as an orderly, had talked to Harrison, David beside him. David had saluted Harrison, who had acknowledged the salute with a salute of his own.

Not bad, thought David to himself. This was a long way away from his home in Goose Creek Bay, mixing and mingling with the head of the Army himself.

And then, to top it all off, the biggest airship in the world was coming here to land, take off and land again, all in a few hours. David’s one regret was that he wasn’t going to be leading the handling party, but he figured the view from Colonel Vickers’s position would be better, and it was certainly easier work.

David was in charge of Colonel Vickers’s equipment, including his binoculars. Since the Colonel seemed to be in a good mood, and not using the field-glasses at the moment, David picked them up.

Vickers saw what he was doing. “Go ahead, Sergeant. I’ll tell you when I need them myself.” Colonel Vickers, despite his good temper, seemed to be a little distracted. I suppose he has a right to be a mite preoccupied, thought David. After all, it’s not every day that this kind of thing happens, and the responsibility of looking after all the important folks is a big one.

“Thank you, sir.” David raised the field-glasses to his eyes, and scanned the horizon in the direction from which the airship was meant to approach. No sign of the airship as yet. Since he was in full dress uniform, the hot sun made him sweat, and he took the glasses away from his eyes to mop his face with a handkerchief.

For no obvious reason he started to think about Brian, and what he was doing now. Apart from the one time that he’d played chess in the cell with Brian, he hadn’t seen him at all, though he saw many of the other prisoners who were being held in the brig for insubordination and disobedience, as well as the usual crop of would-be deserters. He’d asked Colonel Vickers the previous day, but got no real answer, other a gruff reply than that Brian was still alive and being well-treated.

He replaced the field-glasses to his eyes, and scanned the whole scene around the mooring mast and the airship shed. As well as all the troops stationed at Cordele, many civilians had been invited. The Mayor of Cordele, together with the whole city council, was there, along with the Governor of Georgia (who looked old and decrepit, thought David, examining him through the glasses) and his retinue. As well as President Davis and his Cabinet, the whole of the Senate was there. For the first trip on the airship, only Jefferson Davis III and his Cabinet, together with Davis’s cousin, who served as Leader of the Senate, had been invited. The others would have to wait their turn, weather and the good nature of the Germans permitting.

David continued his scan of the scene. Aha! he thought. There was Major Weisstal, near the mooring mast, with a squad of German soldiers equipped with their newfangled machine-pistols which were so much superior to the Tommy-guns carried by the Confederate elite forces. He’d watched the Germans stripping and testing these weapons at the range, and had been impressed by the speed and power with which the slugs chewed up the paper targets. On one thrilling day, Major Weisstal had even let him handle one and fire off a magazine’s worth of ammunition. Much to his surprise, he’d managed to hit the target with almost every bullet.

A little to one side, David saw that even the black slaves were watching in their own cordoned-off area. They seemed as excited as the white folks, thought David. Well, he’d certainly seen them working hard enough on the shed and the mooring tower and all. They certainly deserved the chance to see the results of their labors.

He swung the glasses toward the shed, where the handling party was waiting (but not under his command) and on the other side of the shed… He stiffened and adjusted the focus on the binoculars, not convinced that he was seeing things properly.

It was! But it couldn’t be, he told himself. It was Brian, half-hidden from view, with a sack or bag or something at his feet. What was he doing out of the cells? He continued watching.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sergeant, hand me those field-glasses,” said Colonel Vickers, who immediately focused them on the area David had just been looking at.

“Goddarn it,” David heard him mutter. “I told him to stay well out of sight.” Vickers turned to David. “Sergeant, whatever happens today, no matter who asks you, you never saw that man there. Understand?” The tone was icy.

“Yes sir.” David was going to ask what was going on, but one look at the Colonel’s tight-lipped and angry face stifled the question in his throat.

“Believe me, Sergeant,” went on Vickers in a slightly less stern tone of voice, “there is no reason for you to know anything at all about any of this. Just keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told.”

David looked back towards the shed where he had seen Brian, but it was impossible to see anything clearly without help. He resumed looking towards the expected arrival point of the airship, but the glare of the sky hurt his eyes, and he soon gave up. He wasn’t going to ask Vickers for the use of the field-glasses again, for sure.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a captain, who saluted Vickers.

“General-in-Chief Harrison’s compliments, sir, and he requests the use of your orderly sergeant, if he’s the one who writes so well.” Since arriving in Cordele, David’s calligraphic skills had become famous. At least once a week he was called on to produce a prize certificate for an inter-company sports competition or similar event.

“Sure, captain,” replied Vickers, with an easy smile. “He’s not busy right now. Take him with you.”

“Thank you, sir. This way, Sergeant.”

As David followed the captain, Vickers called after him. “Straighten your cap, Sergeant.” David obeyed and walked on.

The captain led David into a tent, right into the presence of General-in-Chief Harrison. David exchanged salutes with Harrison, wondering what on earth required his presence so urgently.

Harrison explained. “Last night the President and myself was talking, and we thought we should give them Germans some kind of certificate of appreciation to show how happy we are about the airship coming and all that bull. Him and me wrote out the words, but neither of us can write worth a damn, and none of my staff is any better. Someone told me that you were the kid who wrote well, so I sent one of my guys to find you.”

David disliked being called “kid”—he was nearly twenty years old, after all, but even being called “kid” by the General-in-Chief was better than not talking to him at all.

“Yes, sir. Most folks seem to appreciate the way I write.”

“So here’s what I want you to write, Sergeant.” He passed over a piece of paper with the draft of the certificate.

He wasn’t joking when he said that he couldn’t write well, thought David. The draft, with many crossings and corrections, in poorly formed childish writing, was full of spelling mistakes that even David could notice. Another hand had corrected them, adding to the general confusion on the page.

“I reckon,” said Harrison, looking at his watch, “that we have something like an hour to do this. Or rather, Sergeant, you have a little less than fifty minutes. Up to it?”

“Yes, sir,” said David firmly.

“Good man. Use this desk. Pens and paper here.”

“Ink, sir?” asked David.

“Goddamn it,” swore Harrison when a search had revealed no trace of any ink. “Am I surrounded by total idiots?”

Greatly daring, David interrupted the flow. “Sir, since time is short, maybe I should go to the camp office and fetch the ink myself? I know where it’s kept.”

“Off you go, kid. Hurry.”

David saluted and ran out of the tent towards the office. He grabbed the Indian ink from the supply cupboard, and started back, taking the shortest route by the airship shed. As he half-ran, he felt his wrist gripped by a hand and he was pulled behind one of the braces supporting the gigantic sliding doors.

“Brian! What in heck are you doing here? I saw you with Colonel Vickers’s glasses, you know. So did the Colonel. What’s that you’ve got with you?” looking at two kitbags on the ground beside them. “And why are you dressed that way?” looking at Brian’s Army denim fatigues, with no insignia.

“Don’t worry about me. You never saw me, and don’t worry about what’s with me,” replied Brian urgently. “I just want to warn you to be careful. Things are going to start happening today that you really don’t want to know about.”

This was the second time that day that David had received a hint that something was going to happen. He started to speak, but Brian interrupted him.

“Don’t ask questions. Just you take care of yourself. And remember, you never saw me. Now get back to wherever you’re going. You look as though you’re in a hurry.” He released David’s wrist.

David continued his journey back to Harrison’s tent, and entered, out of breath and more than a little confused by what was going on.

“Well done, Sergeant,” said Harrison, as David saluted and threw himself into the chair behind the desk, breathing hard. “Captain, you will fetch the sergeant a glass of iced tea.”

“Thank you, sir,” David replied, trying to get his breathing back to normal. “May I, sir?” he asked, indicating that he wished to remove his jacket to make it easier to write.

“Go ahead, kid. Take off all your clothes and stand on your head if it helps you write easier.”

Harrison left, and the captain reappeared with David’s tea. “Thank you, sir,” David said.

“And thank you, Sergeant,” replied the captain, quietly adding, “If you hadn’t gone back and fetched that ink, our lives would have been merry hell for the next week or so.”

David started to work. The certificate was not too long, and David had time to think how to display the words on the page to the best advantage. One of his better efforts, he thought to himself, as he put the final touches to the page.

He leaned back and sighed with relief. The captain who’d brought his tea earlier came over to the desk.

“Why, that’s real neat, Sergeant. Congratulations on an excellent piece of work. I’ll go and fetch the General.”

Harrison entered a minute or so later. “Let’s have a look,” picking up the paper by the edges with a delicacy that seemed incongruous in so large a man. “That’s a heck of a job there, Sergeant. Well done. And,” looking at his watch, “with ten minutes at least to spare, I reckon. You know,” as a thought obviously just struck him, “you get to come on the airship with me instead of one of those no-good sonsabitches who can’t even get ink when I need it. Yes, that’s it. You come along of me instead of him,” pointing to the captain.

David was thrilled. He was actually to travel on the airship! He looked at the captain who was being displaced in his favor, worried that this would cause ill-will, but to his surprise, the captain half-smiled and gave a surreptitious wink.

“Come out and join me when you’re cleaned up here, Sergeant,” ordered the General as he swept out. “I think I hear the airship coming now.”