On Wings of the Morning (2 page)

“Mata! Make yourself useful,” ordered Hans, “and bind the strips of cloth around the board while I hold it in place next to Otto’s leg. Not too tight, now.”

Mata made fast work of the bindings, and Hans carried Otto over to the truck and laid him in the bed. “Mata! Go get a blanket to cover your brother!” Mata ran back into the house.

Hans went around to the driver’s seat while Maria slid into the back with Otto. Mata handed Maria a blanket which she placed over her boy. Hans made sure he was securely held by his mother and then put the truck into gear, rapidly accelerating down the unpaved road to the main highway, leaving streamers of dust in their wake. Otto was aware enough to see Mata grow smaller and smaller in the distance until he could not make her out at all.

***

Maria hugged Otto, trying to keep him from bouncing around on the hard wooden boards of the truck bed and injured further. The boy’s face was gray, like the dirty dishwater she threw out the back door. He wasn’t moving and he had lost consciousness. She tried to cradle him without moving his leg, but the violent motion of the truck made that impossible. “Hans!” she screamed over the noise of the engine, “Slow down! You’re going to kill us all!” Ordinarily she never shouted at Hans and never questioned his actions or decisions. But this was her boy.

Hans’ head whipped around. “Ve must macht schnell!” he thundered back. “Don’t worry! I drove an ambulance in the Great War!”

Yes, but your son wasn’t on that ambulance, thought Maria as she clung more tightly to Otto’s limp frame and buried her head in his chest to escape the spumes of choking dust.

They hit the pavement of the main highway with a hard jounce, and all three occupants bounced in the air. Maria tried to move her body under Otto’s but only partially succeeded. His leg came down on the hard boards and he emitted a small groan.

“Hold on, mein liebes kind,” she whispered into his ear. She began to sing softly, one of the old German songs, a lullaby she had sung to him when he was a baby. Her voice was lost in the whine of the tires on the asphalt and the roar of the engine.

Guten Abend, gute Nacht,

mit Rosen bedacht,

mit Näglein besteckt,

schlüpf unter die Deck:

Morgen früh, wenn Gott will,

wirst du wieder geweckt,

morgen früh, wenn Gott will,

wirst du wieder geweckt.

It was a long five miles to town, even at Han’s demonic pace. He darted partway down the main street, made a sharp left onto a tree-lined lane of larger and finer homes than those in the rest of town. He threw on the brakes, pushed the reverse pedal hard and skidded to a stop in front of Doc Carter’s house, which also housed his office in the front parlor room. Hans jumped from the truck and ran up the walk, violently shoving the door open. Maria could hear him shouting, “Doktor! Doktor! Kommen Sie! Es mein kinder!”

Hans ran back through the door with Doctor Carter hard on his heels. They slid to a stop beside the Model T. Doc peered at Otto’s leg. The lower part stuck out at an odd angle.

“I tink it is broken,” Hans said. “I vas in the Army during the Great War and…”

Doc waved impatiently, “Yeah, we know about your service with the krauts. I was in the war too, and tried to patch up all those kids you goons shot and gassed…”

Maria pleaded through tears, “Stop this! Stop it now! Help mein Otto!”

The two men glared at each other for a brief second. “All right, Hans, you carry the boy; I’ll keep his leg still.”

Hans took Otto in his arms while Doc gingerly held the leg. Otto groaned and his eyelids fluttered. Maria trotted alongside, smoothing his hair back. The four negotiated the short walk and carried the now-conscious boy into the examination room off the parlor.

Hans carefully laid his son on the examination table with Doc easing the broken leg onto the white covering. Doc pulled open Otto’s right eyelid and peered into his pupil. He grunted once and then turned to his wife, who acted as his nurse. “Rose, ether.”

She nodded, stepped to a cabinet and pulled out a green bottle and a cotton pad. Doc turned to Hans and Maria. “Hans, you stay here to help hold him. I’m going to set the leg. Maria, if you would wait in the waiting room, please.”

Maria backed out of the room. Doc shifted his gaze to Hans. “How did it happen? Farm accident?”

Hans shook his head. “Nein. This foolish kind jumped out of the hayloft. I haf told him a thousand times, you cannot fly, Otto. Do not keep trying. But these kinder, they do not obey.”

Doc listened impassively, then nodded to Rose. She stood behind Otto’s head and placed the ether-soaked pad over his mouth and nose. Doc looked at Hans, who held Otto by the shoulders. Doc grabbed hold of the leg.

Outside, Maria perched on the large overstuffed sofa. Rose had furnished the waiting room with heavy dark pieces unlike the simple homemade pine furniture at their farmhouse. She began to pray, whispering, “
Gott in Himmel
, please take care of my son. He is only a boy, and sometimes foolish, but please heal him. Amen.”

She stared at the pictures of European landscapes on the walls. One was of the ruins of a castle high on a hill above a river. It reminded her of where they had come from in the Rhine Valley. Ach, but that was a lovely place, she thought, shaking her head. It was too bad that the men with their fighting had ruined it all. She was so far from home, and letters from her relatives came only occasionally. She was a little lonely on the farm she and Hans had bought with a loan from the bank. It was not possible to buy such property in the old country. And now that she thought about it, there were her friends at church.
Kochen, kinder, kirche.
Weren’t those the essentials? And it was her kinder who was hurt.

She watched the sun move across the carpet just a little ways, filtered by the curtains at the windows. The door swung open and Hans came in, followed by Doc. They looked tired but their expressions told her all she had to know. Otto would be all right.

Doc spoke slowly. “It’s a bad break, but it set well and I think his leg will heal just fine. He’ll be on crutches for a while.” He handed her a piece of paper. “Take this to Fred over at the pharmacy—you’ll need it for pain when Otto goes home.”

Hans began, “In the war…” but Maria shot him a look that silenced him.

“Thank you, doctor. May I see him?”

“Of course,” Doc said. “I’d like to keep him here overnight just to make sure he’s all right. We’ll take good care of him.”

Maria went into the dimly lit examination room. She saw Otto, his blonde hair shining against the white sheet that tucked in at his neck. The bulky form of a cast showed through the covering. His face was still pale, but not ashen as it had been earlier.

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. His eyes opened briefly and he whispered, “I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to—“

“Hush, Otto, you just rest for now. You’ll stay here tonight and we’ll come get you in the morning.” She kissed him on the forehead as his eyes closed, and then she tiptoed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

***

Otto slept fitfully. Occasionally, Rose came into the room to check on him and ask him softly if he was in pain. “
Nein,”
he said, reverting to the German he had first spoken but which he now refused to speak unless scolded by his father. And he drifted back to sleep.

In one dream, a nightmare really, he thought he had put the twin engine Ryan into a spiral dive. Colonel Lindberg pulled it out by brute force. “Pull, Otto, pull,” he yelled, as they both stood on the pedals and pulled the control wheels as hard as they could. The Ryan slowly leveled out, but Lindberg looked at Otto with disappointment. “I’m sorry, Otto, but I can’t have an incompetent pilot with me. You come.”

They both unbuckled their seat belts and Otto followed Colonel Lindberg to the hatch halfway back along the fuselage. Lindberg’s face was stern. He slid open the door. The slipstream howled past the dark opening. The colonel put his hands on Otto’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Otto,” he intoned. “I can’t risk this mission because of an incompetent pilot.” With that, he wrenched Otto to the side, and Otto was thrust out into the cold darkness, falling, falling, falling. After a while the air seemed to buoy him up and he had no sensation of motion, but he knew that the sea lay below. He plunged through layers of cloud and broke through the overcast. The horizon showed as a thin gray line, and the sea was a darker gray than the clouds. The water seemed to rush up to him. It was coming fast, fast, and suddenly he hit.

Otto sat up in the dark examination room. The grandfather clock in the parlor chimed four. He lay back down, feeling the ache of his broken leg. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

***

The next morning he was awakened by sunlight streaming through a gap in the heavy curtains. His stomach reminded him he had not eaten since lunch the day before. He sat up again. Rose bustled into the room. “Good morning, Otto, you must have slept well. I didn’t hear you all night. How’s the leg?”

“It aches, Mrs. Carter,” Otto returned.

“Well, that’s to be expected. Are you hungry? Would you like to go to the bathroom?”

“Do you mean the privy?” Otto wasn’t sure what a bathroom was. He didn’t need a bath.

Rose laughed. “A bathroom is an indoor privy,” she smiled. “I’ll help you to it. You’ll find it’s much nicer than a smelly old privy.” She helped him up and guided him to a door on the other side of the examination room from the parlor. Rose flipped a switch and a light came on. Otto looked up in surprise. He had read about electric lights but had never seen one operate. Rose chuckled and pointed to a white vase. “That’s where you do your business, Otto. Pull the chain hanging from the tank when you’re done.” She closed the door.

Otto gingerly eased himself down on the white vase and “did his business.” When he was done, he stood up, pulled up his knickers and pulled down on the chain as instructed. It sounded like water was pouring from the ceiling and he yelped and jumped out of its way as well as he could with his leg. He heard Rose’s voice from the other side. “Otto! Are you all right?”

“Yes, Mrs., Carter. I thought I had caused a flood but I’m all right now.” She laughed on the other side of the door. “Well, come out when you’re finished.”

Otto immediately opened the door and started to hobble out. “Wait a minute, young man: you didn’t wash your hands.”

Otto looked puzzled. “I was going to use the pump in the kitchen if that’s all right.”

Rose laughed again. “Let me show you,” she smiled, and led the way back into the bathroom. She flicked on the light and turned one of the faucets on. “See? Running water with the turn of a knob!”

“Wow, Mrs. Carter, that’s pretty keen!”

“Well, wash up and then we’ll see about some breakfast. Your folks will be here to pick you up pretty soon.”

***

Otto wiped the last of the boiled egg Rose had fixed for him off his mouth, along with some bacon that looked like it was store-bought. It wasn’t until he smelled it frying that he realized how hungry he was. Breakfast at home was usually sausage and if there were bacon, it was homemade with a lot of fat. In fact, now that he thought of it, they had sausage about every meal, with potatoes and a few other vegetables his mother grew in the garden. And milk. Lots and lots of milk.

Rose came back into the examining room and took the tray Otto had used for his breakfast. “Doctor Carter will be in to look at you in a few minutes. He was out all night with a difficult birth. Honestly I don’t know what would possess anyone to be a doctor. But he loves it.”

“I’m glad he could fix my leg,” Otto offered.

Rose patted him on the head. He reminded her so of their son Jack at the same age. “He was there when you were born. It’ll be up to you to follow orders and the rest is up to the good Lord.”

Doctor Carter came into the room looking tired and disheveled. Without a word, he pulled back the sheet and examined the cast on Otto’s leg. He grunted and turned to Rose. “Rose, would you excuse us for a moment. I need to talk to Otto here.”

Rose looked at him quizzically and then turned and carried the tray out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Doc watched her go and then faced Otto. He looked grave. “I want to talk to you about this airplane foolishness.”

Otto’s mind went blank for a moment. Foolishness? Why were airplanes foolish? He didn’t understand.

Doc continued, “Your remind me of our son Jack when he was your age. The Wright brothers flew when he was ten and he talked and dreamed of airplanes and flying the rest of his life, short as it was. He just had to go into the flying corps when we entered the war, and that’s what got him killed.”

Otto had seen the memorial to those killed in the Great War. Jack Carter’s name was listed near the bottom, one of the last local casualties of the war. “He was a hero,” he began.

Doc’s face tightened. “He’s dead, Otto, and you will be too if you persist. I know you’re young, but I’m also telling you to give up this airplane business. Don’t put your parents through what we’ve been through.”

Otto couldn’t speak. He thought everyone was excited about airplanes, especially after Colonel Lindberg’s flight the year before. Everyone but his father, that is. Now he could add Doc to the list. He didn’t want to lie and say he would give up airplanes, so he was silent.

Doc looked toward the closed door. “I think your parents are here to pick you up. Remember what we talked about.”

Otto nodded, thinking, yes, I will remember but I won’t do what you asked.

Mata appeared in the doorway, looking serious and pale. She ran over to Otto and hugged him. “Oh, Otto, I was so afraid when I saw you lying there in the dirt! Mama and Papa said you were all right, but I just had to see for myself.” Otto put a hand on the top of her head, noticing as if for the first time how evenly her twin braids came out of her head. Mama braided her hair every morning for her. She said that was how girls wore their hair in Germany.

“I’ll be fine, sister. I’ll have to use a crutch for a while, but I’ll be good as new very soon.” Mata raised her head and smiled rapturously at him.