Two Blackbirds (15 page)
Douglas took Sharon by the elbow and insisted she climb inside first. He brushed past her into the cockpit. It took ten minutes for them to get off of the ground. When they leveled out at five thousand feet, he pointed north. “Jerry has blown the dykes. Looks like the winter will get worse for the poor bastards behind the German lines. The Nazis cut off food supplies because the Dutch helped the Allies at Market Garden. With the flooding and so little food, I'm afraid a lot of people will starve before spring.”
Sharon thought,
I just want to go home. Europe can fight its fucking
wars without me.
Douglas flew west. Sharon looked out the window and saw the edge of what appeared to be a massive lake stretching as far as the eye could see. She longed to see the Rocky Mountains on the western horizon.
“Here's a letter from Honeysuckle.
She and Sean are travelling south to spend Christmas with us.” Linda handed the letter to Sharon, who sat in the wing-backed chair in the front room of the cottage.
“What about Michael?” Sharon asked.
“We'd better let him know. Has he been very busy at Bletchley Park?” Linda sat down across from Sharon.
“He says they have the commandos guarding the grounds. He's beginning to wonder if the commandos are there to keep him from escaping. Will you invite Milton?” Sharon asked.
Linda looked at her feet. “He's been transferred to the continent.”
Sharon looked at her friend.
The fighting is nasty there and the casualties
are high. I hope he makes it back.
Linda raised her head and looked through tears at Sharon. “Do you think he'll make it home safe?”
“According to Robert,
Jerry is counterattacking through the Ardennes.” Mother sat across the table from Sharon, leaning on his elbows.
“And I'm hearing the weather has closed in. Heavy snow is falling, and we can't fly.” Sharon looked at the mixture of coffee, cream, and sugar at the bottom of her cup.
“You'd think we'd learn. The Nazis invaded France through the Ardennes in 1940. It feels like we're back at square one with this war.” Mother lifted his cup and drained the remains of his tea.
They sat alone in the canteen. Sharon had ordered all pilots to get some rest. She'd stayed to handle any priority deliveries. “Hitler's Army isn't what it once was.”
“But he has Me 262 jet fighters and
V
-2 rockets. We don't have anything like the
V
-2.” Mother's eyes shifted nervously from his cup to the pot set at the centre of the table.
Sharon caught a nod from the cook. She got up and walked to the kitchen. “Thank you.” She returned with two plates of bacon and eggs.
Mother picked up a knife and fork. Then he got up and refilled Sharon's coffee. Sharon folded a piece of bread around two slices of bacon and dipped it into her egg yolk. She chewed and thought. “Remember Edgar?” she asked.
Mother used his hand to cover a mouth full of egg as he looked up at her. “Rather hard to forget.”
Sharon took another bite of bacon and bread. “He taught me to look for evidence. To use what I actually saw with my own eyes to reach conclusions about what was really happening in this war instead of listening to what I was being told was going on.”
Mother chewed, poured more tea, and waited.
“We're eating bacon and eggs,” Sharon continued. “Food supplies are getting through. That was not the case in '40, '41, and '42. I've seen what our bombs have done to the
U-
boat pens along the coast. It looks like Hitler is running out of ports to launch his submarines.” Sharon tucked the rest of her bacon sandwich into her mouth.
“What about Hitler's new weapons?” Mother asked.
He's enjoying this back-and-forth.
Sharon reached for her coffee and sipped. She put the cup down and wrapped some bacon in another slice of bread. “He's running out of places to launch them. Yes, they're terrible weapons, and yes, Harry was killed by one. But you haven't seen the number of fighters, bombers, and transport aircraft I've seen. The airfields are jammed with them. And you haven't seen the way the ports here and on the continent are filled with ships unloading all manner of equipment.”
Mother took a sip of tea.
“Besides, if the
BBC
is to be believed, Hitler is almost entirely surrounded. He's got us to the west and south. The Russians are invading from the east, and the Nazis have retreated behind Germany's borders. It's only a matter of time now.” Sharon dabbed her bread and bacon in another yolk.
“You're saying I'm being an alarmist for worrying about this attack, then?” Mother used his fork and knife to cut a slice of bacon in half.
Sharon looked at her sandwich before putting it in her mouth. “I'm saying that nowadays, I'm more worried about the likes of my Uncle Marmaduke, Lady Ginette, and Edwin Beck.” She took a bite of her sandwich.
Mother frowned. “Beck is the kind of man who loves war, but the other two, they're British.”
“Lady Ginette and Marmaduke were members of the British Union of Fascists before the war. I have the documents to prove it. And I also have the documents to show that my Uncle Marmaduke has made a fortune through his investments in steel, munitions, and textiles. All from the safety of West Yorkshire.” Sharon waited for Mother's reaction.
“A war profiteer?” Mother asked.
“All of it strictly legal.” Sharon reached for her coffee.
“I see.”
Sharon could feel the anger rising up off the man like the steam from his cup of tea. His face, however, remained impassive. She said, “They are the ones we will have to fight after this war is over. It will be a different kind of war, but it will be a war.”
“You're certain of this?”
Sharon nodded as she lifted her coffee cup and held it in both hands. “I am. All I need to do is look at the evidence. Marmaduke and Lady Ginette want a return to the class system where they have money, status, and power. Beck wants a class system where the colour of his skin gives him power over other people. After the war, people like you and me â people who fought in this war â will have other battles to fight. It might be more like a civil war, but it will be a war nonetheless.”
“You learned this from Edgar?”
“He taught me to pay attention to what was going on around us.” Sharon pointed to the door. “And it all happens just outside that door.” She pointed at the empty table where Ginette always held court. “Or right over there.”
Mother nodded. “My friend Robert has been saying much the same thing.”
How come I get the feeling that Robert is more than a friend to you,
Mother?
Sharon woke up
as the wheels of the Anson touched the runway.
Where the hell am I?
She looked out the window to see the familiar outline of the White Waltham hangar. The low sun lengthened the shadows and painted an orange hue along the edges of the buildings.
The days will be getting longer now.
She smiled.
She looked forward and saw Douglas at the controls. He taxied the Anson to the apron in front of the hangar and shut down the engines. Sharon was the last pilot out, and she savoured the fresh silence.
Douglas stepped out of the side door and onto the grass, then turned to her. “How many deliveries today?”
“Five. Mostly Typhoons. With the weather clearing, they're pounding the Nazi tanks and supply lines in Belgium.”
“You must be knackered.” Douglas released his parachute harness, stretched, and dropped his chin.
Sharon smiled at Douglas's impression of exhaustion. “I am that.”
Douglas looked outside of the aircraft. “What's got her wind up?”
Sharon nodded at the hangar. Lady Ginette looked like an overripe pear in her white flight suit. She was waving her arms about as she faced Ernie and Walter. Sharon closed the distance and stepped onto the concrete apron in front of the hangar.
“I told you! I don't want him,” she pointed at Ernie, “working on my aircraft!”
Sharon stepped up behind Lady Ginette and caught an overpowering whiff of Chanel perfume.
Where do you get Chanel in the middle
of a war?
Lady Ginette turned on Walter. Her voice shook with emotion. “You and your kind need to know your place.”
“What place is that?” Sharon sensed rather than saw a gathering of people around the mouth of the hangar.
Lady Ginette turned. Sharon saw the woman's face was red with anger. But it was the rage behind her eyes that struck her most.
She's
revealing the ugliness behind her polite façade.
“I don't want that jigaboo working on my aircraft.” Lady Ginette shook her finger in the air.
Sharon felt the calm focus of pre-combat clarity. “Why, Lady Ginette, your fascist leanings are showing.”
“What?” Lady Ginette stepped back, startled.
You started this, Ginette, and I'm going to finish it.
Sharon slowed her words so they would carry to everyone within earshot. “You were a member of the British Union of Fascists.”
“How could you know that?” Lady Ginette asked.
Sharon shrugged. She felt the massive presence of Douglas at her side. “Ernie and Walter joined up to fight the Nazis. You wanted to join the Nazis.”
Lady Ginette looked around her, rolled her eyes, puffed out her chest, and retreated in the direction of the dispersal hut. “I've had enough of mongrels and colonials.”
Sharon moved closer to Ernie and Walter. “What else has been happening around here today?”
Ernie looked at Walter. Walter took off his green wool cap, rubbed the top of his head, pulled the cap back on, and with an exaggerated back-country accent said, “Been running like a couple of hens being chased 'round the yard by a mangy coot of a dog.”
“I could sure use a cup of coffee. How about the pair of you?” Sharon asked.
Walter turned and pointed himself in the direction of the canteen.
“Where are you going?” Sharon asked.
“To get some coffee for us,” he said.
“Like hell you are.” Ernie put his hand on Walter's shoulder. “How many coffees?” He looked at Douglas.
“Four, please.” Sharon looked around her for confirmation.
Douglas nodded. “I'll give you a hand.” He followed Ernie to the canteen.
“We'll need somewhere to sit.” Sharon set her parachute on a nearby shelf and arranged crates and upturned buckets for them to sit on. Wordlessly, Walter did the same until they had a circle of makeshift seats.
Ernie and Douglas returned with coffee cups, sugar, and milk. “Mother sent this along,” Ernie said, pulling a bottle of rum from the pocket of his coveralls.
After they sat down with their doctored coffees, Walter turned to Sharon. “You were in Belgium today?”
“And Holland and France.” Sharon savoured the magical mixture of rum and coffee. Her toes began to tingle with warmth.
“What are you hearing about Hitler's offensive?” Walter asked.
“Not much. The talk was more about finding ways to hit back after the weather finally cleared. You heard about Malmady?” Sharon inhaled the alcoholic fumes from her coffee and coughed.
I put too
much rum in there.
Ernie used his cup to point at Walter. “We're hearing the
SS
murdered about eighty American
POW
s there.”
Douglas nodded. “I heard that happened on the seventeenth. The story spread along the line, and instead of retreating, the soldiers started to fight.”
Sharon looked up as two more pilots arrived with their coffee cups. “Mind if we join you?”
Walter stood up.
“Pull up a seat.” Sharon pointed at a crate.
The two young women perched side by side on the upturned wooden crate. Ernie hefted the bottle of rum. “Help yourselves.”
Linda walked into the hangar. “Is everyone invited?”
Sharon said, “Of course.”
Linda pulled up a pail, turned it upside down, and sat next to her sister-in-law.
“The weather just began to clear,” Sharon said, “so the Typhoons and Thunderbolts have been ordered to hammer the Panzers and Jerry's supply lines.” She looked over her shoulder. News of the hangar gathering had spread. Other pilots arrived and perched on whatever was available.
Mother arrived with a tray of cups and a pot of coffee. He set them down, then pulled a bottle of rum out of each of his jacket pockets. He held the bottles up. “Would anyone like more coffee?”
Sharon said, “Join us!”
He leaned against the fuselage of an Anson and smiled. “I'll stick with tea, if you don't mind.”
“Exactly what kind of tea are you drinking?” Linda asked.
“Fortified.” Mother raised his cup. “Cheers.”
Ernie raised his cup. “To Edgar!”
There was quiet. Ernie looked embarrassed. Walter had tears in his eyes.
“To Molly Hume!” One of the young women raised her glass.
The room grew quieter still.
Sharon raised her glass, took a drink, then let the silence stretch out before turning to Walter. “What are you hearing about the goings-on in the Ardennes?”
“Patton is on the move, Monty is holding back, and guys like me are looking for a fight.” Walter glanced at Ernie.
Ernie said, “Eleven black
POW
s from the
333
rd were tortured and murdered by the
SS
in Wereth, Belgium. Same day as those boys in Malmady.” Ernie nodded at Walter.
“Not as many people know about it, but the news got the guys in the 761st Tank Battalion pretty motivated.” Walter looked around at the faces of the people who were intent on what he was saying. “The 761st are called the Black Panthers. They're with General Patton.”