Flying Without Wings

by Paula Wynne

  Bomber stretched out his hand. ‘Shake on it.’

  Matt straightened. As Bomber gripped his fingers, almost crushing them, he stared him in the eyes. A sudden eerie feeling gripped Matt, as if Bomber was about to tell him his father was home again.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  Matt thought for a minute. He’d better make this work. There wouldn’t be another go at getting the Balmaine secrets out in the open.

  ‘It’s well known that your family own most of the land around here. Even the village of Little Hollow and these woodlands,’ trying not to let awe creep into his tone, Matt pointed to the woodland surrounding the airfield.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Bomber shrugged.

  ‘’But apart from around the hangar and the runway, there are private property and no trespassers signs everywhere, and no one knows anything about the place, or about all those army buildings down the far end. So what’s the big secret?’

  ‘Although we’ve owned the land the airfield’s on for generations, the army rented it during the war for storage.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘No. My father only rented the main airfield to the RAF. He kept the lower south side for our use.’

  ‘If I’m allowed to be nosey, why?’

  ‘Flying small planes to and from farming districts and the continent to keep our chain of food shops stocked with some of the high demand luxury foods. There wasn’t much around during and after the war, so Dad flew for miles to pick up supplies.’

  ‘But wasn’t gasoline rationed? And surely airspace was tightly controlled?’

  ‘Good questions, Matt,‘ Bomber hesitated and then muttered, ‘Some things people around here don’t know. Your father knew, so I’ll tell you. My family were also into collecting antiques and rare artworks and books. Often the flights to the continent were because a lot was being sold very cheaply, but it wasn’t public knowledge. My family also have extensive connections, as far as parliament. Our shops sold the best produce to people in the most desirable areas. Influential people who often really liked their food and were also friends, so my father was able to get the flying permissions he needed.’

  Matt digested the information with a sour aftertaste. So, the stuff people said about the Balmaine family could be true. It really was one law for the rich and another for everyone else. Despite his disgust, Matt wanted to know more, and so hid his reaction. Instead, he subtlety changed the subject by asking, ‘Who ran the place when he was gone?’

  ‘Mother. And my Dad’s brother. They had a big family to help.’

  ‘Like your brother does now?’

  Everyone knew Bomber’s brother ran the retail chain selling imported foreign luxuries and their farm-grown fruit and vegetables. He swallowed hard and nodded. His eyes stared down the runway as if deep in thought.

  Matt waited a moment and was just about to ask another question, when Bomber started talking, ‘Like you, I was mad about flying. Started as a young boy. From about seven, I used to take trips with Father.’

  A strange sensation came over Matt again, but instead of questioning it, he waited.

  Bomber ambled to the hangar door and leaned his hand against the doorframe. ‘Again like you, I wanted to join the forces. Even though I was the oldest, I left the family estate management to Michael and I joined the RAF. When…after the crash, when I couldn’t fly for the RAF anymore, I came home,’ his voice broke and he dropped his head.

  ‘Is that when you started restoring all these machines left over by the war?’

  Bomber lifted his head to face Matt and grinned. ‘Yeah. Well, I took over the hobby from my father. I guess you know they used dummy aircraft and false buildings around the field, along with flare path lighting, to draw the Luftwaffe bombers away from major nearby targets.’

  ‘You mean the village?’

  ‘No, serious targets. RAF bases outside Oxford and Southampton, Chilbolton, Brize Norton, along with the nearby RAF Greenham Common and RAF Aldermaston.’

  A light caught Matt’s eyes. ‘You mean AWRE.’ He’d grown up around the Atomic Weapons Research Establishment and had never realised it was once an RAF base until Allan had told him. Like most people in the area, he thought it had always been an underground weapons testing site.

  Bomber continued, ‘Occasionally, Spitfires from Middle Wallop’s training school for new pilots used the airfield. Dad flew out of there, too, but mostly it was a decoy.’

  ‘That’s so cool!’

  Bomber smiled. ‘Yeah, Little Hollow played an important part in the war. It used to be more than double its size, but even by the end of the war the weeds were pushing through the runways, there’d been some bomb damage, and there was junk everywhere. So for lack of use, and of money, it kind of shrank until it reached the size where it was only what was needed for a small, private airfield. The woods are taking the rest back now.’

  ‘So why did the RAF leave all those machines behind?’

  ‘They were obsolete even halfway through the war. You have to remember that in 1939 Britain had biplanes and steam engines, and then by 1945 there were jets in the skies. Doing anything with outdated or broken machines was too costly at the time, and not a big priority, as the war clean up and rebuilding was more important.’ Bomber turned back to stare down the runway. ‘My father didn’t want the old army building and equipment to disappear and be completely forgotten, so he started renovating some of the buildings.’

  Matt knew about the garden shop and the scout hall. The small garden shop had sprung up in the furthest away building that had its own entrance, so people didn’t have to drive through the airfield to get there.

  A Nissen hut, which had once been the armoury building, was now the local Scout club, with its own small section of woods. Which the family had fenced off so the boy scouts couldn’t delve further into the woods and find their secrets.

  The only flying done at that end of the Balmaine estate was a park for families to fly small, radio-controlled aeroplanes.

  Bomber continued, ‘During the war there were two large blister hangers, and numerous dispersals and domestic buildings hidden within Little Hollow woods.’

  Matt couldn’t resist asking, ‘And those amazing machines?’

  ‘I knew that was coming. Most people don’t get to see them until I’m finished giving them a new lease on life and they go in the museum. I take it you’re one of the kids who trespasses in the woods to go look at them?’

  Matt could feel his face going red. ‘Um…fifth amendment?’

  Bomber laughed. ‘You’ve been watching too much Miami Vice. Anyway, I’m doctoring the amphibious truck next. It’s the same model that was used during the D-Day landings.’

  ‘What I don’t get…why are there so many machines at a dummy airfield?’

  ‘Because a dummy airfield needs machines to look realistic, and in 1940 bringing old and broken vehicles here was the cheapest and fastest solution. They were more or less scrap, and that’s why the RAF dumped them here: for their one last mission, attracting bombs. Then after the war there was no need for them, and in fact the RAF and army brought more decommissioned vehicles that weren’t worth dismantling for scrap. My father decided to start fixing them up. I kinda followed suit.’

  ‘Did you ever see any army stuff going on during the war?’

  Bomber swung around and glared at Matt. ‘What do you mean?’

  Although several feet away from Bomber, Matt stepped back, shocked at the expression on Bomber’s face. ‘No-nothing.’

  Bomber took a menacing half step towards him and muttered under his breath, ‘All those rumours you heard, don’t you believe any of them.’

  ‘Like what?’ Matt huffed.

  ‘Like hidden in the nearby woodlands is some top secret war bunker with God knows what hidden inside it.’

  Matt stared at him, not sure what to make of his reaction.

  Bomber shook his head. ‘Just don’t believe those rumours. It’s nothing more than ignoran
t village gossip. And it annoys me. Sorry.’

  ‘I don’t! I just thought that…that maybe you’d had a cool time as a kid watching the pilots.’

  Now Bomber looked calm again. ‘Like you do?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know what I mean. Like you watch our pilots.’

  Matt felt himself colour again. ‘How do you know?’

  Bomber raised his eyebrows. ‘You use the same spot I used to use when I was a kid, so don’t worry about it. From now on, just come in. The chaps would love a helping hand.’

  Too embarrassed to look Bomber in the eye, Matt murmured, ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Now,’ Bomber said, ‘about that bet.’

  Matt looked up and directly into the pilot’s eyes, holding his gaze.

  Bomber smiled. ‘I bet you’ll be flying by the end of the year.’

  49

  Air Fest

  Little Hollow Airfield

  The following day, Matt couldn’t fathom where so many people appeared from. They reminded him of army ants suddenly going on a march. They stormed down the dirt track and headed straight for the stalls set up only that morning. Stall sellers yelled about their wares, trying to entice everyone to taste or buy.

  Some people had parking fights in the grassy fields alongside the airfield, trying to find any tiny spot of shade, and when two cars arrived together they argued over who’d found that spot first. Others, carrying picnic blankets and baskets, marched onto the field, to the grassy area that he had mowed and that was now designated for family picnics.

  Couples crowded onto the wooden stand that had been erected. Music blared out from the far end, where the fair had a merry-go-round with electronic horses riding high and low and kids screaming in delight.

  Big marquee tents shaded flea market stalls with handmade jewellery, clothing and art canvases. Beside it a Farmer’s market buzzed with sellers shouting about local fruit, berries, nuts, pickles and cheeses, baked goods, honey, jams and jellies.

  In front of the tents clowns and jugglers paraded up and down, entertaining the crowds. Despite himself, Matt felt a swell of pride. Bomber had done an amazing job and created a high carnival spirit.

  Matt served coffee and tea all morning and scalded his fingers so many times he’d forgotten which was from when. The odour of tea hung in his nose. Even after downing a fizzy drink, almost all in one go, he still couldn’t get rid of the smell.

  Making drinks wasn’t so bad, it was cutting up the cake that got him into trouble. First, he had cut the slices too big and been told off for that. Then they had been too small, and they crumbled, plus a couple of customers had spotted the larger slices and wanted those instead. Thankfully, Mrs Cowden had taken over and sent him for a quick lunch break. As he gratefully escaped the lingering odour of tea, another series of smells sailed towards him, from steaming popcorn to mustardy hot dogs and sun-fermented beer.

  Folk music blared and competed with kids yelling from the rides, balloons popping and the microphone announcing the dog tail wagging competition.

  Matt knew where to find a quiet spot at the back of the hangar, in a welcome pool of shade where he could grab a bite before the air show really got under way with the best part. The flying parades. Here, round the back, was where the engine parts, ladders, oil drums and even a couple of pieces of wing and tail had been hastily moved to, and he sat amongst them eating a sandwich Mum had made, knowing he wouldn’t be home for his usual lunch.

  Munching, he wondered what time Allan would be back to film the air show. There had still been no word of him from London, and Matt was surprised he wasn’t back by now. Although he was keen to find out more from Allan, he was secretly glad he had gone so he could have Cami to himself.

  Well, he could if he could find her, anyway. He couldn’t work out why Cami was avoiding him. But was she? Maybe it was his imagination. After all, he had been serving people all day and hadn’t been able to go looking for her. Suddenly a new thought occurred to him: what if she and Allan had both disappeared because they were off doing something together? It’d be just his luck if…

  ‘You shirking off?’

  He glanced up to see Cami smiling down at him.

  On his feet in an instant, he swallowed the last crust and muttered with his mouth full. ‘Just....’

  ‘Stay.’ She leaned her cute butt, fitted beautifully into tight jeans, against Bomber’s car bumper, where he’d parked out of sight to free up one more space for guests. ‘I just came to say hi.’

  He gulped down the last of his drink and smiled awkwardly, hoping she wouldn’t be able to see from his expression any of the suspicious thoughts he’d just been having. ‘Hi.’

  ‘How’s it going? It looks fun.’

  ‘Yeah. And hectic. Everyone wants everything at the same time.’ Matt tucked the sandwich tinfoil behind him, embarrassed that she’d see his Mum still made him lunch.

  Cami’s eyes twinkled at him. ‘The name of the game, I guess.’ She twisted slightly, accidentally flashing a piece of her smooth, flat stomach.

  ‘See anything you like?’

  Matt’s eyes snapped back to hers. Caught red-handed! Not a good sign. He flushed crimson and tried to think of what to say.

  Thankfully, Cami hadn’t noticed his embarrassment, and he saw she wasn’t focussed on him but waving her arm towards the stalls. ‘Over there?’

  He shook his head and muttered, ‘Haven’t had time to go over yet. Have you?’

  ‘Oh, they have it all. From hooking up ducks to splatting the rat to smashing coconuts. Even a make-shift pool for the kids. Cleverly done.’

  Matt smiled. He’d helped Bomber set up hay bales as the pool sides with a thick plastic sheet on the base and tucked over and around the bales. They’d filled it only about a foot deep, but that was enough to entertain the little kids and keep them cool throughout the long day ahead.

  Cami’s eyes lit up. ‘I love the book stall. That’s pretty unusual at fairs. I love old books and maps. My dad has some really beautiful old German maps. Have you seen any of that kind of thing around here?’

  ‘Here?’ His lip curled in puzzlement as he wondered why Cami was asking about something like that. Here, at an air show. A bit bizarre.

  Cami shrugged in such an attractive way, her breasts perked up and seemed to push out at him. Her top button was undone so it was hard not to stare at her cleavage.

  ‘I just wondered, is all. Never mind, I’ve supported the show and bought a pile of books. I love history books. Do you like history, Matt?’

  The way she said his name made Matt go all gooey. It was like pouring honey over his ice cream.

  ‘Yeah. I got the history prize at college.’

  ‘Oh, wow! Tell me about that.’

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, Matt thought of the time and getting back to serving tea, but Cami’s magnetic lure kept him rooted to the spot. Like a fly trapped in a spider’s web…except nice, obviously.

  Because he’d been thinking that he really should go soon, he’d already started describing his project before it occurred to him that Mum had said Cami’s father was German, and that this might be an awkward subject. ‘It turned into two separate parts, really. Nazi evil versus duty, and Nazi treasure hunting versus holocaust payback.’

  ‘And what did you say?’ She seemed genuinely curious, not bothered at all. Also he was proud of the work he’d done on the project, and if she thought it was interesting, it might really impress her.

  ‘My first piece was identifying if the Nazis who committed countless murders were doing it because they were evil, like Hitler, or if they were doing it because of a sense of duty to Führer and Fatherland.’

  ‘The Nazis were psychotic. Their hatred was unbelievable.’ Cami’s face had grown suddenly harder.

  ‘Uh, well, from my research, like reading the Stanley Milgram experiment, it seemed that most of the soldiers who committed Holocaust crimes were normal men’ Matt countered. ‘They did terrible things
not because they wanted to, but because they were given orders.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous! So they’re not guilty just because they were ordered to do it? Where was their sense of right and wrong? You wouldn’t kill someone because your boss told you to do it.’

  Matt was taken aback at the venom in her tone. ‘Yeah, I agree. Wholeheartedly! I’m just reporting the results of my research. We had to write up the facts, not our opinion or our emotional response. Which, of course, can be entirely different.’

  Cami looked really furious and Matt was suddenly afraid he might have blown it with her. Why had he started talking about that damned project?! Just because he was proud of it. He tried to think of a way he could steer the conversation around, so he wasn’t appearing to defend war criminals.

  ‘Cami, did you hear that story floating about the village that Allan, my cousin, is filming his report on? They’re saying there’s a Nazi war criminal living right here amongst us.’

  She eyed him, still angry but also looking interested.

  ‘Imagine…someone who did such terrible things has just got away with it. That shouldn’t be allowed to happen. I think if the people who live here ever find this person, we have to give them up,’ Matt tried not to sound as bitter as she had. ‘Even if they’re old and grey now. Just because it’s forty years ago doesn’t mean they’re no longer guilty. They have to pay for what they did. They don’t deserve any sympathy, because they had none for their victims.’

  She nodded, and Matt breathed a mental sigh of relief. ‘I agree,’ Cami dropped her voice. ‘My Papi was in the war. He carried all that for so long, but, like millions of others, he suffered in silence. In a way, this silence has been passed on to my generation.’

  Neither of them spoke for a long moment and then Cami changed the subject abruptly. ‘What about your treasure hunting piece? Tell me about that.’

  Matt said, ‘I really can’t just now. I’d better go. If Bomber finds me hanging around―’