Fly Boy (22 page)

“I’m not going anywhere, mate, and I don’t think you can make me, unless you’re planning on leaving the yoke and trying to toss me out.”

“Look, I appreciate what you’re doing, but—”

“This is the control tower,” came a voice over the radio. “We have three on the ground, all good. Wasn’t there going to be a fourth?”

“Negative, control tower,” Drew said before I could answer. “This is the acting flight engineer. We felt it was better if we had both a pilot and a flight engineer.”

“Affirmative on that. Winds are coming from due north at eleven miles per hour, with gusts to fifteen. Be aware of crosswinds and you are cleared for landing.”

“Roger that,” Drew replied. He turned to me. “So, let’s go down and say hello to the guys.”

I needed to bring us around in a big, big circle, lose about a thousand feet, and head straight into the runway from the east. I pushed down hard on the yoke. The controls had become increasingly sluggish, but the plane still responded and we started to descend. Up ahead I could clearly see the lane formed by the green path-indicator lights. I put us right in the middle.

“Eight hundred … seven hundred and fifty … seven … You have to get down lower or we’ll have to make another pass.”

I pressed down even harder and we dropped faster.

“Good, there’s the steeple, straight ahead.”

The runway lined up perfectly with the steeple. It was an obstacle when we were taking off in that direction and a marker coming in this way.

“Five hundred … four-seventy …”

“What’s my airspeed?”

“One-eighty … Do you want me to throttle back?”

“No, no, I don’t want to stall it out, better to come in fast.”

I suddenly realized that I was drifting off line for the runway. I turned the wheel and worked the rudder and we adjusted, but too fast and too far! My heart rushed up into my throat and I pressed back the other way to self-correct
until my nose was right in line with the centre of the runway.

“You never landed a plane before, right?” Drew asked.

“Well … sort of … once.”

“Sort of?”

“It was a Link Trainer.”

“At least that’s something.”

“Not really. I crashed it.”

He laughed. “Is it too late for me to jump?”

“What’s our height?” I asked.

“One hundred and ninety … A little late, but don’t worry, I know you can do it.”

“Yeah, right, thanks for at least pretending.”

“No pretending—I’m betting my life on it. Ninety feet … eighty feet … sixty … Pull up your nose and get the rear wheel to hit first.”

I adjusted the elevators and the altitude changed. I reached over and pulled the throttles back, reducing the fuel, reducing the speed, and the sound of the engine diminished.

“Come on, Davie, nice and easy, just clear the fence, you can do it.”

We cruised in, barely above the fence, and then the runway was underneath us, and we hit against the deck hard and I bounced out of my seat. I pushed the yoke forward and the plane jerked and tipped up, the tires screeching against the pavement before it righted itself!

“Throttle down, throttle down!” I screamed.

Drew grabbed the throttles and pulled them back, and I squeezed the brakes and the plane started veering off to the side of the tarmac. I squeezed harder on the other side to bring it back in line, but it wasn’t working! We rumbled off
the pavement and onto the grass, and the whole plane started bouncing and pitching so much that I thought it was going to get airborne again. I squeezed the brakes so hard I thought they were going to break off, but it was slowing down at last, more and more. Finally, the Lancaster came to a stop. There was complete silence.

I looked over at Drew.

“I’ve seen better landings,” he said.

“What?” I asked in disbelief.

“You’re supposed to try to keep the plane
on
the pavement. I’ll forgive you this once, but I expect better things of you the next time.”

He started laughing and I joined in. It was either that or start crying.

“He’s expecting you,” the clerk said as I walked into the office.

“Thanks.”

“Just go right in,” he said. “By the way, that really was some fine flying.”

“Thanks.” I’d been hearing that a lot, but to me it still seemed like simple dumb luck that I’d been able to land that plane.

“You should be very proud of what you did, regardless,” he went on.

What exactly did
that
mean?

I stopped in front of the CO’s door. Even though I’d been told to go right in, I knocked and waited for a response.

“Come!”

I opened the door, walked in, and closed it behind me. “Reporting as requested, sir,” I said and saluted.

He waved back a reluctant return salute. “Sit. Did you manage to get any sleep?” Group Captain Matthews asked.

“A little, sir,” I replied as I sat down. “I kept getting interrupted, men coming around to congratulate me.”

“Well-deserved congratulations. That plane was so beaten up that it was a miracle you were able to get her back to base to begin with. I have no idea how you managed to fly it with almost all of your elevator missing.”

“I knew it was missing a piece in flight, but I would imagine
that most of it fell off when I hit the deck. It was a pretty hard landing. It wasn’t exactly textbook, sir.”

“Any landing that you can walk away from is a good one.”

“Speaking of walking away, sir, can you update me on Jed—I mean, Flight Lieutenant Blackburn?”

“As you know, after he was stabilized, he was transferred to the hospital at district headquarters for surgery.”

“And is there word on him yet, sir?”

“There is.” He smiled and I felt my heart melt. “He’s going to pull through.”

I suddenly burst into tears. “Sorry, sir, I’m just so … I shouldn’t be …”

“It’s all right, son. Tears of joy and tears of relief and maybe even some tears of gratitude.”

He got up, circled the desk, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to me.

“He’s alive because of you, son.”

“I had help, sir, lots of help.”

“You were the one behind the yoke. It seems you got your wish to be a pilot sooner than you thought you might.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I guess you’re used to doing things a little earlier than you should, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Umm … maybe sometimes, sir.”

“Definitely sometimes. I was hoping you could help me with a little problem, a little confusion I’m experiencing.”

“If I can, sir.” I wasn’t sure what he could possibly mean by that.

He picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “Late yesterday I received a cable from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. It concerns a missing boy.”

“A missing boy?” I repeated, my voice cracking over the last word.

“It says the
boy
—and he is a
boy
, because he’s not yet eighteen—was discovered missing by his mother. Apparently she went to visit him at his boarding school—she’d heard he was sick. But he wasn’t there.”

All of the blood drained from my face, and I felt a rush of fear that was worse than anything I’d experienced in the plane.

“And by the strangest coincidence, this boy has the
same
last name as you. And even stranger, he has the same mother and father as you. Wouldn’t you say that was an incredible coincidence … Robert?”

I was caught. There was no way out. “I’m so sorry, sir. It all just … just happened.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know whether I should preside over a court martial and throw you in the stockade because you’re a fraud, or decorate you because you’re a hero. The problem with the latter is that I’m really not sure what name to put on the medal.” He paused. “It
is
Robert, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. David is my—”

I was interrupted by loud noises, yelling coming from the outer office, and suddenly the door burst open and in walked Drew, Jacko, Glen, and Sandy.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir!” Jacko yelled out. “But we need to talk to you.”

“All four of you get out immediately!” he ordered. “This is not the time or place.”

“Afraid it is both the time
and
the place,” Jacko replied. “We came here to tell you that Davie here is a hero—that none of us would be standing here if it hadn’t been for him!”

“I believe I’m fully aware of what he did, but there are things that—”

“No disrespect, sir, but we want you to know that we are all equally responsible for the trouble Davie is in,” Drew said.

“How do you know that McWilliams is in trouble?” Group Captain Matthews asked.

“There aren’t many secrets on this base, sir. We heard that Davie was in trouble, sir,” Drew replied.

“And we’re all responsible,” Jacko added.

“Do you even know what he’s in trouble for?” the commander asked. He turned to me, holding out a finger. “And not a word from you!”

“Well, sir, there’s just so much, I don’t know where to begin,” Jacko said. “But what we do know is that he’s a genuine hero and he needs to be given a medal!”

“Robert, would you like to explain it to them?”

They all looked at each other.

“Robert? Who’s Robert?” Glen asked.

I raised my hand. “I’m Robert.”

“And you should know that Robert is not only not who he claimed to be, he is not the age he claimed to be. He is just seventeen years old.”

All four men looked shocked.

“He enlisted under a false name while underage. Do you know what that means?” the commander asked.

“That the air force needs more seventeen-year-old pilots?” Jacko guessed.

For a split second the commander looked as though he was at a loss for words.

Jacko pushed on. “Sir, I appreciate—I think we all appreciate—that regardless of the circumstances that brought
Davie—I mean Robert—here, what he did makes him a hero.”

“Yeah, you can’t throw him in the stockade!” Drew said.

“I wasn’t planning on throwing him in the stockade.”

“That’s more like it!” Jacko exclaimed.

“But I’m about
this
close to tossing
you
in detention,” he said, holding his finger and thumb just a fraction apart.

Jacko shut his mouth and looked down at his feet.

“Robert is not going to be jailed,” the CO said.

I felt a rush of relief.

“But he’s also not going back into a plane,” he continued. “Instead, he will be going back to Canada, to Toronto, to complete his school year. And when he turns eighteen years of age in July, he
will
re-enlist and be sent to flight school, where he will be trained to become a pilot.”

“I’m going to be a pilot!” I exclaimed.

“Not just a pilot, son, but a
Lancaster
pilot. At the time of your qualification as a pilot, you will be reassigned to this squadron, where you will be expected to complete the remaining six missions of your tour.”

“That’s … that’s incredible, sir!”

“There is no need to call me sir anymore. You are no longer a member of this squadron, or, for that matter, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force. You and your medal are going home.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“I don’t know if you should be thanking me. You may have faced enemy fighters and flak over here, but you’re about to go home to face the music … and your mother.”

“Do you think you could just throw me in the stockade instead?” I asked, and everybody broke into laughter.

“Now, I want all five of you to get out of my office before I throw
somebody
in the stockade.”

Everybody scrambled for the door.

“Wait!” he called out, and we all froze. “Robert will be flying home tomorrow evening. Until then, you four are responsible for him.”

“Of course, no problem, we’ll take great care of him!” Jacko answered. The grin on his face was a mile wide, and the CO must have noticed.

“Yes, you’ll take wonderful care of this seventeen-year-old
boy
—a boy who is too young to drink—and you’ll return him to this office by fifteen hundred hours tomorrow afternoon. Understood?”

“Understood, sir,” Drew said.

I went to leave and then stopped. There was one more thing I wanted to do before I was kicked out of the air force. I turned to Captain Matthews.

“It’s been an honour to serve under you, sir,” I said, and saluted.

He stood and returned my salute. “And it’s been an
honour
to have you as a member of my squadron, McWilliams. You are dismissed … And don’t let me catch you here again until you’re actually, truthfully, and genuinely eighteen years old!”