On Wings of the Morning (19 page)

Otto stood in a small vestibule. “Come on in and meet Mum and Dad.” He followed her to a small living room with a sofa and an overstuffed chair facing a large radio.

“Mum, Dad, this is Lieutenant Otto Kerchner, the friend I’ve been telling you about.”

Otto shook hands with Mrs. Dodgson and then with Mr. Dodgson, murmuring words of introduction. They all sat down.

“So, Alice tells us you’re a pilot,” said Mr. Dodgson.

“Yes,” Otto told him. “Eighth Air Force, B-17.”

“Grand outfit, I hear. I was with the Grenadiers in the Great War. Bloody mess, that.”

Mrs. Dodgson cleared her throat, and Mr. Dodgson looked contrite. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend anyone.”

“I’ll see if the roast is done,” Alice said, going into the kitchen.

“So, young man, what part of the States are you from?”

“I’m from Wisconsin, sir, a little town called Pioneer Lake.”

“So, what do you think of Britain?”

“To be quite honest, I think it rains a lot.”

For some reason, this struck Alice’s father as funny, and he roared with laughter, slapping his knee and growing very red in the face. Alice came in to see why he was laughing.

“We’re ready to eat. What’s so funny?”

“The rain in the British Isles,” Mr. Dodgson said, wiping his eyes.

They all crowded around the dining room table. Otto watched Alice as they ate and the conversation flowed around them. He was content to listen and didn’t say much. When they had finished, they adjourned to the living room where Alice and Mrs. Dodgson served tea. They listened to the BBC News and then Mrs. Dodgson stood up. “We old people need to go to bed, but you young folks stay up as long as you like.”

Otto stood up as they said their good nights and went up the stairs. He sat on the sofa with his arm around Alice. They watched a large lump of coal burn in the fireplace.

“My parents like you,” she told him.

“How do you know?”

“You’re not loud and pushy like some Americans and you’re very polite.”

“That’s good to know,” Otto said, “because I intend to see a lot of their daughter.”

They fell asleep sitting together on the couch. Otto woke up as the coal burned out and a chill overtook the room. “Wow, it’s 2 AM,” he said. “I’d better get back to base.”

Alice took both his hands. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for a pleasant evening.” He kissed her and then she helped him on with his coat.

“Be careful, my brave pilot.”

“I will, my darling,” and with that he slipped out the door into the rainy streets.

Otto gripped the wheel of the
Mata Maria.
They were high over Germany and had been pounded by fighters all the way in. The Focke-Wulfs and Messerschmidts had fallen off now, but not before they had taken down two bombers in Otto’s box. The remaining Forts formed up as best they could, and flew on toward flak blossoming ahead of them. Otto wondered that the formation could fly so calmly into high explosives.

The flak was “walking” right toward their formation. He hoped the Jerries had the wrong altitude setting, but it didn’t look like it. Just then, an errant falk burst caught the ship to starboard in the bomb bay. The aircraft exploded, and Otto heard the metallic ping of shrapnel from the hapless craft hit the fuselage.

“Holy sh—!” came over the intercom. Normally he would have called down the crew member who said that, but those were his sentiments as well. Suddenly he felt weary and sick but he kept her straight and level. A hymn from his boyhood came to him.

Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott,

Ein gute Wehr und Waffen;

Er hilft uns frei aus aller Not,

Die uns jetzt hat betroffen.

Der alt’ böse Feind,

Mit Ernst er’s jetzt meint,

Gross’ Macht und viel List

Sein’ grausam’ Ruestung ist,

Auf Erd’ ist nicht seingleichen.

“A mighty Fortress is our God…” He hadn’t thought of the hymn in years. Here he was in a Fortress flying above Germany. God help us all, he thought.

“One minute to the I.P.,” came King’s voice over the intercom. Then, from Detwiler, “I have the aircraft.”

Otto and Donovan took their hands off the controls, waiting for the familiar lurch as the bombs fell away. Donovan grabbed the wheel as soon as they felt the aircraft lighten and put the Fort into a steep turning dive to port. “Time to get out of Dodge,” he remarked grimly.

Then it was back through the flak and the fighters, with several more ships downed in front of them. The gunners kept up an incessant fire. As the Channel approached, Espinosa called in. “Waist two, Cousins has puked in his mask.”

Otto keyed the intercom. “Get him out and get him cleaned up. Is he choking?”

There was a delay while the other gunners got the ball out of the turret.

Espinosa came on again. “No, sir, he’s not choking but he does look green…we got him. I think he’s OK”

Thank goodness we’re over the Channel, Otto thought as the ship lowered toward a landing. They circled and waited their turn and landed after the aircraft bearing wounded had touched down. There were a lot of them.

Donovan parked the big bomber and shut the engines down. “Rough one,” Otto said.

“You got that right,” Donovan agreed and flipped the switches on the checklist.

The crew jumped out of the Fort and walked around it, looking at the bullet holes in the skin. Otto stopped counting at 100. Cousins fell to his knees and was sick again.

“Cousins, are you OK?”

The ball gunner shook his head. “I don’t think I can take this any more. Can you get me out of it, Lieutenant? I can’t take it.” He dissolved in tears. Espinosa came over and put his arm around his shoulders.

“We’re here with you, buddy. Let’s get you to the infirmary and get something for that stomach.” He and Adams helped him to his feet and headed off to the medic hut. The rest of the crew watched them go.

“Well, that was number twenty. Is it bad luck to say how many we have left?” said Donovan.

No one answered. They shouldered their kits and started walking back to quarters.

Otto was whistling as he got dressed. Donovan was sprawled on his bunk reading a letter from his wife.

“How are things at home?” Otto asked.

“Just fine…three weeks ago,” Donovan answered. “Another date with Alice? Man, this must be serious.”

“Yes, we’re going out for dinner. There’s apparently one good place in town and that’s where we’re going.”

“Have a good time. Be home by midnight.”

“Right,” said Otto. “No mission tomorrow, so I might not come home at all.”

“You dog,” Donovan joked, and threw a shoe at Otto.

Otto ducked and went out the door. He continued whistling as he walked to Alice’s house, carrying the canned ham he had liberated from the mess hall. He felt bad that he continued to eat at Alice’s house when he knew they were using their ration points to feed him. The ham was a little hostess gift.

He knocked on the door and Alice answered dressed in a fabulous blue dress. Otto whistled. “Hello, Miss Dodgson.”

She struck a pose. “Come on in, airman. I changed my mind and decided to cook for us here. My parents have gone to London to visit my aunt who’s not feeling well.”

This is my lucky day, Otto thought. He handed the ham to her. “A little gift for you from the people of the United States.”

Alice took the ham. “Thank them for me, will you?”

“I will.” He walked through the door, immediately embraced her, and kissed her passionately for a long time. After a while, she pushed him back and said, “Not so fast. I have a roast in the oven.”

“Let it burn,” Otto murmured, kissing her neck. She pushed him away decisively.

“Go sit in the living room and calm down. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I hear and obey,” Otto told her and sat on the sofa.

“Do you fly tomorrow?” Alice called from the kitchen.

“No, we don’t.”

Alice had put flowers on the table and lit candles as darkness fell. Otto thought how the candlelight lit her features with a soft golden glow. As they are, they talked of inconsequential matters. When they finished, she stood up and took his hand.

“Come with me,” she said. She led him to the downstairs bedroom which he assumed was hers, turned to him, and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” she whispered.

He reciprocated by unbuttoning the buttons down the front of her dress. He shrugged out of his shirt and stood there, bare-chested. She let her dress drop, lifted the straps to her slip from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“Come to me,” she said, holding out her arms. And he did.

***

The next morning, they were awakened by sunlight coming in the window. Alice stretched and yawned. “Good morning, my love,” Otto said.

“Oh—I didn’t know you were awake—good morning,
my
love.”

“Thank you for last night. And I forgot to thank you for a lovely meal.”

“You’re welcome. And now the whole day is ours. What shall we do?”

“I have some plans,” Alice said. “But let’s get dressed first.”

A few minutes later they sat down at a huge breakfast Alice had fixed. “I thought we could relax here for a while and then visit some bookstores and have a picnic in the park. Have you ever been to the park?”

“I haven’t seen much of the town except for a few pubs and the buildings between here and the base.”

“Very good, then: I’ll give you a tour.”

“Sounds good. First, though, let’s relax some more.” He drew her to him.

***

“Look, Alice! Look at this copy of
Bleak House.”
Alice had disappeared around a corner in the tiny book shop they had stopped in. She looked at it with a practiced eye.

“I wouldn’t pay that much for it.”

“I don’t even know how much it is. I can’t figure out pounds and shillings and pence.” Otto put the book back. “Have you done enough looking? I’m getting hungry.”

“It is quarter to twelve. Let’s go back by my place and get our picnic stuff.”

“Sounds good.”

They walked back through the rain-dampened cobbled streets holding hands.

‘”You know,” said Otto, “I haven’t been on a picnic since the senior picnic in high school. As a family we weren’t much given to eating outside. That might have been because we spent so much time outside.”

“Well, I hope you like what I fixed. I have some ham sandwiches, some fruit, and some wine I think you’ll like.”

He gave her a hug. “Whatever you have will be great. Say, tell me what is Mendlsham’s claim to fame?”

“Not much. It’s old but not as many things happened here as happened in Ipswich. There was an old silver crown they found in the seventeenth century, and a gold ring that turned up in the eighteenth. Supposedly, we were once the residence of Redwald, a king of the East Angles.”

“That all so sounds so ancient.”

“We do have plenty of history.”

They had reached her house by then. She ducked in and came out quickly, carrying a picnic basket and a blanket. “Here—if you’ll carry the basket, I’ll take the blanket. The park’s not far, in this direction.”

They walked on in silence and soon came upon a smallish patch of green with a pond near its center. “Here we are!” exclaimed Alice, spreading the blanket on the ground. Otto put the basket on it and helped her take the food out. The sun had come out after the rain, warming things up nicely.

They arranged their meal between them, and Otto leaned over and kissed Alice. “Thank you,” she said.

“No, thank
you.”
They both laughed at this exchange and started eating.

“Do you fly tomorrow?”

“Yes. It’s our twenty-first mission. I’ve heard rumors it’s going to be a tough one.”

“How do you do it?”

“How do I do what?”

“Go out and do something so dangerous?”

“I look on it as a job. We’re all doing our jobs so we can go back home again and resume our lives.”

“And how does the rhetoric enter into it, you know, fighting for democracy and against oppression and all that?”

“That’s part of it, but I think we’re more motivated by looking out for each other. You’re fighting for ideals, but you’re also fighting and doing your job so everyone gets back safely. Although lately I’m more motivated by coming back to you.”

“How sweet. I love you, Otto.”

“I love you, Alice.” They kissed tenderly.

“I have a poem for you since you have recited so many for me.”

“Yes?”

“It was written by a pilot, John Gillepsie Magee, an American who joined the RCAF to get into the war. He died in a mid-air collision in 1941.

“It’s called, ‘High Flight.’

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.

Where never lark, or even eagle flew —

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”

Otto did not speak for a few seconds.

“Do you like it?” Alice asked.