Quill Pen Scratchings

Chapter 3

Morning came quickly.  Edmund felt as if he had just closed his eyes when the bugles sounded marking the new day.  Flurry had taken him to one of the long low wooden buildings with a canvas tent roof and given him a cot to sleep in.  When they were on their way back to the air base, Flurry had invited him over to the YMCA tent to play pool, but Edmund was already drifting off in the truck.  Despite the fact that he hadn’t had any food since the stew at the Blue Pig the previous day, he wasn’t hungry.  His stomach was churning from the thought of riding in an airplane.  He didn’t really know what to expect, but he thought that he probably shouldn’t eat breakfast, plus he didn’t know where it was being served anyway, so it didn’t matter.

Edmund was alone in a room that had eight cots in it.  There was a wooden table against one of the canvas walls that had an ewer and a bowl on it, and eight glasses next to it.  He poured some of the water into a glass and then more into the bowl and stripped off his shirt and pants and washed as best he could, and put on his last set of clean clothes, which after many nights and days in the suitcase were very wrinkled.  Even his tie had a deep crease in the middle where it was folded over.  His father had told him to roll his ties up, but he hadn’t listened.  He used his penknife to try and scrape some of the now-dried mud off his shoes.  He slowly sipped water from the glass, while repacking his suitcase, 

After one last look around the room, he put on his hat and stepped out into a gray and misty morning.  Feeling a bit queasy, he walked to the large, tented hangars that lined the grass airfield.  He made his way to number three, which, as Flurry had smirked, was indeed the third one from the end, and marked with a sign with a large number ‘3’ on it.  One airplane sat out in front and Edmund walked over to it.  It had two sets of wings connected by large V shaped struts.  It seemed both larger and smaller than Edmund had imagined.  Its bulk appeared to be too large to fly, but it also looked frail when Edmund thought that it was the only thing that would be keeping him from falling to his death.  A crew of two men had the engine compartment open and were checking it over and putting fuel from a large can into the tank behind the cockpit.  Edmund tried to get a look at the engine but couldn’t really see it that well.

He turned and saw Sergeant Knox sitting in a folding chair just inside the large opening in the hangar drinking tea from a porcelain cup.  A small table sat next to him with a teapot and a plate of biscuits, sausages, and a few strips of fish.  An attendant stood behind the table.

“Morning, Fitzhugh.”  Knox called from his seat.  “Beautiful day for flying, at least once this mist burns off,” he said, looking up at the sky scornfully. “Did you get anything to eat?”

“No, sir, I didn’t.  I’m not really very hungry though.”

“Nervous?”

“A little.”

“I don’t eat a whole lot myself normally before flying.  But most of the time it is for fear of bullets, not of crashing.  Anyway, you can help yourself.” Knox gestured toward the plate of food.  The sausages had cooled in the morning air, and the grease had congealed around them.

“Maybe just some biscuits, thanks.”

“Pour him some tea, would you?”  Knox said to the attendant, who nodded and began pouring tea into a cup.

“White or black, sir?” the attendant said to Edmund, who didn’t know what he meant.  The attendant gestured with his hand towards a pot of cream. 

“Oh, um, black, thanks.”

“Sugar?”

“Yes, two thanks.”  The attendant dropped two cubes of sugar using tongs into Edmund’s tea, and quickly stirred it, and then handed it on a saucer to Edmund.  Edmund reached out and picked up a biscuit and started to nibble on the edge of it.

“Yeats said you slept like a log.”

“Yes, sir.  It was a long day.”

“Sounds like you have had a pretty rough time of it over the last few months.”

“Yes, sir.”  Edmund took another bite and then took a long slow sip of tea.  He did this mostly to hide his face, which he felt was reddening.

“Well, nothing like a fresh start and a great adventure, eh?” Knox said, seeming to sense Edmund’s discomfort.  “What do you think of her?” he said, gesturing towards the airplane.  “It isn’t the latest, and it isn’t very fast, but it will get us there, I think.  And my good British friends mounted a Lewis on the top, just in case.  But I really wouldn’t want to be caught out by the Huns in that thing, especially with all the extra weight.”  He smiled at Edmund.  “But don’t worry about that.  I will probably skirt around any real danger.”  Edmund tried to smile, but couldn’t.  “Is that your case?”  Knox said, frowning at the suitcase Edmund had put on the ground.  “I don’t think I can fit that in.  We are carrying a pretty heavy load of stuff, and there isn’t much storage in these things anyway.  Do you have an extra coat?”

Edmund shook his head.  Knox turned to the attendant, “Get him some kind of small bag he can keep in the seat with him, and a coat.  Oh, and some goggles too.”

            The attendant sized-up Edmund for a moment.  “Very good, sir,” he said, and walked around the side of the hangar and disappeared.  Edmund sipped at his tea and nibbled on his biscuit just to mask the awkward silence.

            “Well, since you’ve never seen one up close, would you like to get a look at the bird?”

            “Yes, sir,” Edmund said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

            “These old Nie 10’s never were very fast, but they are pretty reliable.  My 11 is a lot stronger and faster.  Much better machine.  The Boches’ don’t really have anything that can outrun it, right now.”  Knox had stood up and began walking over to the airplane.  Edmund couldn’t help but notice how resplendent and freshly pressed he looked in his pilot’s jumpsuit, shiny and tall brown leather boots, and fur lined leather coat.  His hair was immaculate, and his moustache neat and orderly.  Edmund felt small and messy and wrinkled next to him. 

            They approached the airplane, and Knox explained how it maneuvered, using terms that Edmund hadn’t heard before.  Pitch and yawl and roll, and how each of these maneuvers could be used to evade the enemy in aerial combat.  He used one hand to demonstrate the move, still carefully balancing a teacup and saucer in his other hand.  It must have been apparent that Edmund wasn’t taking much of this in.  Knox looked at him for a moment, and then said “Here, let me demonstrate.  Hold this.”  He thrust his cup and saucer at Edmund who had finished his biscuit, so he was holding a cup and saucer in each hand.  Knox climbed up onto the lower wing, just near the fuselage, and reached in.  “There is a control yoke in here that is attached to a central column–well you will be able to see it when you get in–and it moves the ailerons on the wings like so.  That controls the pitch and roll of the aircraft.  You move the yoke left and right, and it operates the ailerons on each wing in opposite directions.”  Edmund watched as the flaps on the wing he was standing next to bent down.  “The aileron on the right wing is bending up.  And now, look at the rudder.  If I move the yoke backwards and forwards, it controls the elevators, which move the tail of the plane up and down.”  Edmund looked down under the airplane, and he heard one of the mechanics that was standing in front of the wing chuckle.  Edmund looked at the man who was smiling, who nodded his head towards the back of the airplane.  Edmund looked back and saw the flaps on the back of the plane moving up and down in tandem.  “And then the pedals,” Knox leaned far down into the cockpit, “control the rudder, which moves the rear of the plane left and right.  All controlled by cables, you see.”  Knox straightened back up again and turned towards Edmund and smiled.  “And then you just have to control the throttle, and that is all there is to it.  From there you just try not to get shot down.”  Edmund nodded his head in what he hoped was a thoughtful way.  “Ah, here comes your coat,” Knox said, looking back towards the hangar.

            Edmund turned, and the attendant was approaching with a large overcoat draped over one arm and a small canvas shoulder bag dangling from the other.  The attendant walked up to Edmund and held the coat out to him.  Edmund looked apologetically at his hands that each held a cup and saucer and held them out to the attendant.  The attendant just looked at Edmund and continued to hold the coat out to him.  The two men looked at each other for a moment, and then in growing embarrassment, Edmund bent down and set the cups and saucers on the grass.  The attendant continued to politely smile at him.  Edmund took the coat and bag, and also a pair of goggles that the attendant had under the coat.  “Thanks.” Edmund said.

            “No problem, sir.” The attendant smiled again.  “I will take those from you now, if you don’t mind sir.”  The attendant nodded toward the cups and saucers but made no move to pick them up.  Edmund turned and looked back at Knox who was still standing on the lower wing but was leaning over the engine and consulting closely with one of the mechanics.  Edmund turned back around, and the attendant was smiling warmly at him with one hand extended. 

            “Okay.”  Edmund said, bending down and picking up one of the saucers and handing it to the man.

            “Thank you, sir,” the attendant said, and then held out his other hand.  Edmund looked at him and then bent down and picked up the other saucer and handed it to the attendant.

            “Thank you, sir.  Is there anything else I can do for you?”  the attendant asked, still smiling at Edmund.

            “Um, no.  Thanks.” Edmund said.

            “Very good,” the attendant replied before turning and walking back towards the hangar. 

            “Ready to go, Fitzhugh?”  Knox asked, alighting from the wing.

            “Yes, sir.  Just about.  I need to pack my things.”

            “Okay, I will be ready in about 10 minutes,” Knox said, and then turned and walked towards the latrines.  Edmund went back to the hangar and picked up his suitcase, which was twice as large as the small canvas bag, and put it onto the arms of one of the chairs.  The attendant had turned the corner around the hangar edge, carrying the breakfast cart.

            Edmund opened his suitcase and looked at the tightly packed contents.  Out of a side pouch, he took Penny’s picture wrapped in her letters out of a program for the play Pygmalion and put them into the breast pocket of his jacket and put Pygmalion back in the suitcase.  He picked out two sets of underwear and socks, and the best pair of pants and two shirts and a jacket and folded them tightly and stuffed them down into the canvas bag.  Most of his clothes were still in the suitcase, but the bag was full.  He closed and buckled his suitcase, and then pulled on the overcoat.  The sleeves were grimy, especially the cuffs, and it smelled musty.  The coat came down to his knees.  He slung the canvas bag over his shoulder and picked up the goggles.

            “Ready to take off?”  Knox had walked up behind him.

            “Yes, I think so.  I couldn’t fit most of my stuff into the bag.  It is still in my suitcase.”

            “Well,” Knox said, and pausing briefly, “it can’t be helped.  No room, you see.  You are going to have to put that bag on your lap as it is.  And you should probably buckle the strap of it under your lap belt, just in case we run into trouble.”  Edmund didn’t like the sound of that.  “At any rate, I’m sure you will get more clothes when we get to France.  The other mechanics wear coveralls most of the time anyway.  Just leave your suitcase there.  Yeats will take care of it.”   Edmund thought of the tea attendant wearing his other suit.  “Okay!  Saddle up!”  Knox headed off towards the Nieuport 10.  When they reached it, Knox said to one of the mechanics, “Is she ready?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Lewis gun loaded?”

            “Yes, sir, and I gave you two extra magazines.”

            “Very good.  Fitzhugh, I don’t suppose you know how to change the magazine on a Lewis gun?”

            “No, sir, I don’t.”

            Knox looked doubtfully up at the gun mounted above the top wing for a moment.  “Well, I think we shall be okay.  I don’t plan on getting into any scrapes in this old bucket anyway.  If it comes down to it, it is pretty easy. The magazine sits on top of the gun casing,” Knox pointed up to the gun, “the round thing on the top.  See that?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “You just give it a sharp half turn counterclockwise and it pops off.  The extra magazines should be stored on either side of your seat.  Easy as pie.”  Knox looked at Edmund. “Do you have goggles?”  Edmund held them up.  “Okay, good.  You need to pull your hat down around your head and put the straps of the goggles over it, otherwise you will lose it as soon as the prop gets going.  Here, let me help you.”  Knox took the goggles, and Edmund pulled his hat down on his head as far as it would go and then leaned over so Knox could pull the goggles down with the strap over the back of his hat.  Edmund felt like a child who needed help dressing.  “There we are!  Perfect.  Hop in!”

            Edmund swung the canvas bag in front of him, and then put his left leg up onto the lower wing, and grabbed the edge of the cockpit, but then realized he didn’t have anywhere to put his right leg, so he stepped back down and put his right leg up and grabbed the cockpit edge and pulled himself up onto the wing with a bit of a grunt.  “Step in and sit down in the front seat.  And watch out for the yoke, if you are interested in having children later.”  Edmund looked down into the cockpit and put his right leg over the edge and down into it.  He banged his head on the edge of the wing.  “Oh, and watch out for the wing,” Knox said. The mechanics standing on the ground laughed.  Edmund managed to get his left leg over the edge until he was standing in the cockpit, and then he dropped ungraciously into the hard wooden seat.  He felt the plane shake a bit as Knox jumped effortlessly into the seat behind him.  “Keep your hands off the stick, and your feet off the pedals.  That is, unless something happens to me.  Then you will have to land it yourself.”  Edmund tried to look back at Knox, but the goggles kept him from seeing much except straight ahead.  “Make sure you strap yourself in.”  Edmund found the leather seatbelt on either side of the seat and buckled it tightly, remembering to loop it through the strap of his shoulder bag.

“Choke on full.  Gentlemen, if you would do the honors?”  Knox said to the mechanics.  One of them backed away, and the other walked up and grabbed the propeller and shoved it hard.  It turned twice, and then with a violent shake came to a stop.  The man approached again and gave it another spin, and this time the engine roared into life.  Edmund felt the front of his hat being lifted off his head by the roar of the wind generated by the propeller.  He reached up and pulled it back down as tightly as he could and pushed the strap of his goggles up a bit to try and keep the hat on his head.  “You should put your collar up and button your coat.  It gets pretty cold up there,” Knox shouted into Edmund’s ear.  “Clear chocks!”  Knox shouted again, and the mechanics ran under the plane and pulled away the wooden blocks that were in front and back of the tires.  Edmund felt the engine get louder and the propeller speed up as Knox increased the throttle, and the plane began rolling bumpily across the grass.