Missing (2 page)

Northern France

Luc watched in horror as the pilot slammed into the frozen pond. But the pilot did not sink through to the water below, even though the ice cracked under him. Nothing moved. Everything was still. The body lay on top of the ice. Not a drop of blood could be seen.

From the edge of the pond, Luc could now see the face of a young man. The face looked peaceful, as if the pilot were asleep. Luc knew the man had not survived. And because the body was far out on the ice, Luc also knew he could do nothing to help.

Luc was overcome by what had just happened, and he began to sob. His narrow chest heaved and he bent forward. He straightened, then bent forward again. He could not control himself, and he could not stop crying. A pilot had fallen from the sky, and no one but Luc had seen him crash down to the ice.

Luc cried even harder when he realized that he was the only witness to this person’s death. He could not reach the dead pilot, because to walk on the ice would be too dangerous. So he sat on the ground and pressed his forehead to his knees, and he wondered what to do. When he heard soldiers running towards the pond, he stood up again.

After that, everything happened quickly. The soldier in charge sent two others to get iron hooks, a team of horses, and a cart. Minutes later, they returned, and they began to cast the big hooks over the pond. Finally, they snagged the pilot’s body and began to drag it towards them. As they dragged, the body bumped across the unstable ice. The horses inched forward and back nervously, while they waited.

When the soldiers finally pulled the body onto shore, they lifted it and laid it on the cart. One soldier looked closely at the pilot, and Luc heard him say the word “Canadian.” So this was a Canadian pilot, who had died so sadly.

Another soldier came over to Luc, who was still crying loudly at the edge of the pond. The soldier was angry, and he began to shout.

“What’s the matter with you, boy? Get out of here and go home. This does not concern you. It is not your business. Go home to your mother and stay inside your house. You should not have come here.”

Luc ran away from the pond, but he turned once to look back. He saw the soldiers as they walked beside the horse-drawn cart. From the direction they were headed, Luc knew exactly where they were going. The soldiers planned to take the dead pilot to the village church.

Again, Luc did not go home. Instead, he ran ahead of the Germans and hid in some bushes at the side of the church. He was careful to stay hidden when the soldiers arrived. They banged at the heavy oak doors at the front of the church and called loudly for the priest.

Luc stood up and peered through a window. He could see the old priest eating his lunch in a small office inside the building. The priest heard the banging, left his food, and went to open the main doors. The soldiers pushed their way inside and ordered the priest to clear a long table at the back of the church.

The priest cleared the table and stood back while the soldiers laid out the body. They took off the pilot’s soft leather helmet and straightened his uniform and black leather coat.

After the soldiers went away, the priest said a prayer over the body. Then he went back to his office to finish his lunch. Luc had watched all of this from his hiding place outside.

Luc did not know what to do next. Because he was so late, he knew his mother would be worried. But he could not go home. Not after all that had happened. He suddenly thought of the airplane. He remembered the direction of the plane after the pilot had fallen out. It would have crashed somewhere outside the village, not near the pond at all.

Luc decided to look for the crash site. He thought carefully about the aerial fight. The plane
had been headed towards some woods about a kilometre from the frozen pond. Luc knew, too, that the soldiers would also be searching. They would want to examine the plane.

Luc had lived in the village since birth, and he knew the fields and trees in every direction. He was sure he could find the plane, and he wanted to find it before the Germans did. Once more, he began to run, and he ran until he was out of breath.

He found the crash site quickly. He checked around, but saw no one. He had arrived first, which meant that the soldiers were searching some other area.

At once, Luc saw pieces of the airplane scattered everywhere. He was shocked at the way the wood and canvas had been torn apart. The wings had come off and were bent and broken. The force of the crash had driven the engine deep into the hard ground.

Because Luc knew that the Germans would soon find the place, he looked around for a souvenir. He wanted to grab something and run home with it before he was caught. He began to dig at a large piece of canvas, and he tugged and
tore until two strips came loose. Clumps of dirt stuck to both. He stuffed the two pieces of canvas inside his jacket so that no one could see them.

Again, Luc looked around, and this time he saw the wooden propeller. Even in the shadows of the trees, the propeller shone with a high polish. The crash had broken it to splinters, so Luc tried to pull a small piece away from a bigger piece. After much effort, he was able to break off one splinter. He stuck this inside his jacket, hiding it beside the two canvas strips he had already taken.

Looking around one last time, Luc saw a torn card that might be a piece of map or a chart. Maybe the pilot’s name was on it. Luc wanted to know this name, so he picked up the card and tried to read the printed words. But the card was damaged, and one edge had been torn off. At the same moment, Luc felt a strong hand on his shoulder—the hand of a soldier. The Germans had finally found the crash site. When Luc looked up, he recognized the soldier who had shouted at him at the pond. The soldier grabbed the piece of card away from Luc and shouted again.

“What do you think you’re doing? I told you before to go home to your mother. Get away from here and don’t touch anything or you will be in trouble. Go on, get away now. I never want to see you at this place again. Don’t ever come back.”

Luc was afraid. But the soldier did not know about Luc’s hidden treasures. He did not know about the two pieces of canvas and the splinter of wood from the propeller. Pressing his arms to his chest so his treasures would not fall out of his jacket, Luc turned and ran away. This time, he ran straight home.

Northern France

Luc let himself in at the back door. He tried to be quiet, but his mother heard him and called out.

“Luc, why are you so late? Where have you been? Have you been getting into trouble?”

“I was only on my way home,” Luc called back. “I wasn’t in any trouble.”

Because his room was near the back door, Luc went there first. He took off his jacket and hid the three pieces he had taken from the crashed airplane. He stuffed his new treasures into his canvas bag. Then he pushed the bag back under his narrow bed.

Luc was so upset, he couldn’t eat. He told his mother he wasn’t hungry, but she paid no attention. She served him a slice of pork and a steaming potato she had baked in the fireplace. But Luc just sat there and stared at the food. He had no appetite. He could only think about all that had happened in the short space of one morning.

Luc was also hot because he had run all the way home. There were circles of red on his cheeks. He tried not to think of the threats made by the German soldier. His mother put her hand up to his forehead.

“You must have a fever,” she told him. “Just look at your red face. You must be sick if you have no appetite. Why don’t you lie on your bed for a while?”

Luc decided not to tell his mother what he had seen. He didn’t want her to worry. He went back to his room and lay on top of his bed. He kept thinking about the pilot who had fallen out of the sky. He knew the pilot was Canadian. He had heard the German soldier say the word. A Canadian from far away across the ocean had flown a British plane that was now lying in pieces in the woods.

Luc got up quietly and put on his jacket. He slipped out the back door again because he didn’t want his mother to make a fuss. And now, there was only one place he wanted to go.

Luc ran to the church and pushed open the heavy door. No one else was around. The pilot’s body lay on the long table, his head turned towards the window. In the light, his face held the peaceful expression Luc had seen earlier, when the body had fallen to the ice.

In that damp and stuffy room, Luc kneeled beside the table and said a prayer. The Germans had not left a guard behind, and Luc could not bear to see the pilot’s body all alone. He felt so sorry for the young man, he decided to stay until someone told him to go home. And because Luc wanted to learn the pilot’s name, he decided to ask questions. He would keep snooping around. He planned to eavesdrop on the soldiers until he could find out what he needed to know.

Luc did not have long to wait in the church. A few minutes later, the old priest returned. He spoke kindly when he saw Luc.

“You are a good boy to watch over the pilot’s body,” he said. “This afternoon he will be put
into a coffin. What a pity. His family won’t even know he is dead. The war, the war.” He shook his head sadly, and he, too, kneeled to say a prayer.

The next morning, almost everyone in the village came out of their houses to attend the funeral. To Luc’s surprise, many German soldiers arrived just as the service was about to begin. Afterwards, the soldiers formed two lines, facing each other, in the church aisle. The coffin was carried out between the lines. Outside, a German military band played a slow funeral march.

The arrival of a German general from a nearby village was even more of a surprise. The general had come because pilots were honoured, even if they fought on the opposite side of the war. The same men who would shoot down another man’s plane would line up to mourn the dead pilot. On this day, when the Canadian pilot’s coffin was carried to the graveyard, German soldiers marched along behind. The people in Luc’s village had never seen a ceremony like this one.

Later in the week, Luc returned alone to the graveyard. A wooden cross made from two pieces of propeller was pushed into the earth over the new grave. Luc looked at the name printed by hand on the cross. He remembered the torn card that had been lying on the ground. So that’s where the soldiers had found the name.

Luc memorized the spelling:
Jack Green, R.F.C.
He knew that R.F.C. stood for Royal Flying Corps. When he returned home, he dragged his bag of treasures out from under his bed and opened it. He printed
Jack Green, R.F.C
., on one of the canvas strips. He added the date of the pilot’s death, March 4, 1917. Then he placed the piece of canvas back in the bag and shoved the bag under his bed again. Luc didn’t know what he would do with the three souvenirs he had hidden. He knew only that he wanted to keep them, and that they were important.

Luc was certain that he would always remember the Canadian pilot who had died after falling from an airplane. For him, the man was a hero. And there was something else Luc would never forget. He was the only person who had witnessed the death of this brave man.

Later in the spring, Luc took white roses from his mother’s garden and laid them on the pilot’s grave. But this was forbidden. To the Germans, the man buried there was still their enemy. Every time the boy laid flowers on the grave, soldiers removed them and tossed them away.

March 8, 1917

Nova Scotia

Four days after the plane crash in France, the sky over eastern Canada was heavy with cloud and sleet. Peggy Greenwood woke early, put on her robe, and went downstairs to light the fire. She stood beside the stove, trying to get warm, while she boiled water for her tea.

The wood box beside the stove in the kitchen was almost empty. But Peggy knew that her husband, Will, would fill it later in the morning. He stacked and stored firewood in the barn every fall, enough to last the winter.

Most days, even in winter, Will spent his time in the barn. He always had work to do on the apple farm. Tools had to be sharpened. Wood from dead trees had to be chopped. Branches pruned from trees in the orchard were cut into short lengths and tied together in bundles. These, too, were used for firewood.