The High Calling

by Gilbert, Morris

  He was a sound sleeper and now lay with his mouth open, snoring softly, oblivious to the noise of the ready room.

  Brodie put the firecracker under Tobin’s bunk and then stepped back and grinned. “Watch this.”

  All the men watched the fuse as it burned down, holding their breath as it disappeared. The firecracker exploded with a resounding boom, and they all kept their eyes fixed on Tobin.

  The smallish man closed his mouth, and his shoulders shook one time, but then immediately his mouth opened again and the snoring recommenced.

  “That’s impossible!” Bernie Cox cried out. “I can’t believe it!”

  “Fork over the cash. I win. Ain’t that right, Archie?”

  Kent-Wilkins’s face was flushed. He hated to lose at anything, and he had lost consistently to Brodie Lee—at poker, at Ping-Pong, and at every other contest.

  Jimmy gave Brodie the money he’d been holding just as Parker came in, his eyes snapping. “What’s going on here? I heard a gunshot.”

  “No, Skipper, it was just a firecracker,” Jimmy said. He idolized Parker Braden, but he was also very fond of Brodie, and he smelled trouble in the air.

  “Firecracker! You think this is some kind of a boys’ school? Who set that thing off?”

  “I did,” Brodie said, grinning broadly, “but it was all part of a scientific investigation.”

  “What are you talking about?” Parker asked, his eyes fixed on Brodie. He had felt for some time that the American was a bad influence on the discipline of the squadron and had determined to pull him up short the next time he stepped out of line.

  “We were tryin’ to discover who had the steadiest nerves in the squadron, and I proved it was Al.”

  “And how did you do that?” Parker listened as Brodie, his eyes sparkling with fun, repeated the details of the incident. When he had finished, Parker said, “If you’ve got so much time to horseplay, we’ll do some formation flying.”

  A groan went up from the squadron.

  “It was just a bit of fun, Skipper.”

  “You’re not here to have fun, Lee!” Parker bit the words off. “And furthermore, your formation flying is rotten.” Everyone knew that Brodie’s experience in acrobatic flying and fighting in Spain had given him mastery over aircraft such as few men in the entire RAF possessed. He could do anything with a Spitfire that could be done, but he was notoriously bad at formation flying.

  Brodie stood straight as Parker continued to reprimand him. It was not the first time he had been singled out, and anger began to build up in him. He knew, of course, that he was guilty. He had made the argument many times that flying tight formations while on a mission was ridiculous, but he said it again anyway.

  “Look, sir, when a man’s trying to keep his wingtip jammed up into the armpit of another plane, what’s he going to be looking at? Why, he’s going to be watching that plane—and he shouldn’t be. He should be looking out over his head and behind him trying to spot the enemy coming in.”

  “We’ve argued about this before, Lee, and I’m not going to have it. You’re going to fly formations properly or you’ll sit out the flights in the future.”

  Sailor Darley laughed aloud. “That’ll fix you, Yank. You won’t get a chance to risk your life if you’re not good.”

  “You keep quiet, Sailor,” Parker snapped. “You’re almost as bad as he is. As a matter of fact, I’m thinking about disciplining both of you, and I will if you don’t keep tighter formations.”

  The room had gone quiet. None of the pilots had ever seen Parker Braden so tense and angry. When he’d left the room, Trevor Park shook his head. “Something’s biting on the skipper. That’s not like him.”

  “I think he’s exactly right,” Kent-Wilkins said. “Your formation flying is terrible, Lee.”

  Brodie stared at the aristocratic flier and for one moment the room was absolutely silent. Then Brodie turned and walked off toward Al Tobin’s cot. The conversation gradually picked up again, the men speaking amongst themselves about Parker’s lecture and the Ping-Pong game picking up again.

  Ignoring the talk behind him, Brodie reached over and slapped Al Tobin on the shoulder. The man’s eyes opened immediately and he winked and whispered, “How’d I do, Brodie?”

  “Great. Here’s your cut.”

  “I nearly jumped off the cot when that crazy thing went off.”

  “You did just fine.” Brodie had set up the whole thing with Al, knowing he would get a rise out of Kent-Wilkins.

  He started for the door, but Bernie Cox, Brodie’s flight leader, came over to him. “Where are you going?”

  “London.”

  “You can’t—we haven’t stood down yet. We may be scrambled.”

  “Let Braden get somebody who can fly formations better than I can. Don’t worry about me, Bernie.”

  Cox tried to reason with Brodie, but it was impossible. He watched as the American left, then murmured to Sailor Darley, the third member of their flight. “I’m afraid Brodie’s headed for trouble, Sailor.”

  “You want me to go keep an eye on him?”

  “No. That’d be two of you drunk. Just hope he gets back in plenty of time for the next scramble.”

  ****

  The tongue-lashing he had received from Parker Braden had bitten more deeply into Brodie Lee than the members of his flight could have guessed. Brodie took pride in his ability and skills and record as a member of his squadron. He led the squadron in kills and by consensus was the best pilot in the squadron. Now to be pulled up and picked to pieces because of what Brodie considered an unimportant and even dangerous maneuver had disturbed his easygoing ways.

  By the time he had made his way into town from the airfield, the first flashes of anger had settled into a dull resentment. He had no intention of missing a scramble, for he had great loyalty to Blue Flight and did not want to get Bernie Cox into trouble. He had become great friends with Cox and with Sailor Darley as they had repeatedly faced death together and defeated it.

  He went into a pub, intending to have just a few beers. But he was joined by a pretty girl with snapping eyes and hair that appeared to be genuinely blond. He offered to buy her a drink and from there, everything went downhill. The girl moved closer to him, and he found that everyone wanted to buy the RAF fighter pilot a drink. They also wanted to hear about the air war, and Brodie, who usually didn’t discuss the war with civilians, drank so much that his tongue was loosened.

  Time slipped by, the drinks mounted up, the blond girl was attentive, and before long Brodie found himself dazed.

  He never knew later exactly how the fight had started. He had a vague memory of someone saying his companion was his girlfriend, but after that it was all a blur. The only thing he knew for sure was that his adversary had struck him a powerful blow that had turned the lights out. He had awakened in a jail cell occupied by six other drunks, all of them in poor shape.

  Trying to focus his eyes, he looked at his watch and saw with horror that he had been away from the station for eight hours. He ran to the barred door and cried, “Let me out! I need to get back to my squadron!”

  The jailer, a sad-eyed man in a blue uniform, answered in a mournful voice, “You might as well calm down. You’ll have to wait until morning to go before the judge.”

  “But they need me.”

  “Then you picked a poor way to get ready for it. Just calm down and try to sober up. You’re goin’ before Judge Nelson. If he has a mind to do it, he’ll put you in jail instead of just levelin’ a fine. So make yourself look presentable and be humble.”

  ****

  “What’s wrong, Kat?”

  She put the phone back on the receiver. “It’s Brodie. He’s in jail.”

  “What’s he done?” Meredith asked her flatmate.

  “He got drunk and wound up in a fight.” Kat shook her head with distaste. “They allowed him one call. He wants me to come down and bail him out.”

  “I wouldn’t do it if I were you.”<
br />
  “I’ll have to, Meredith. He begged so pitifully, and they do need him back at the squadron.”

  “I didn’t know he was a drunk,” Meredith said, disappointment tingeing her voice.

  “He doesn’t drink that often. Brodie had plenty of faults growing up, but he didn’t used to be a drinker. Something must have set him off. I’ll have to go. Will you cover for me at the mission in case I’m late?”

  “Yes, sure. Come back and let me know how it comes out.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  ****

  Kat made her way straight to the jail, where she found the sergeant in charge and made her plea. The burly man with a bulldog face had heard excuses of every kind. He turned his faded eyes on her and listened as she explained the need for getting her friend out. Finally he sighed, “I don’t reckon it’d do any good to keep him locked up.”

  “I’ll be glad to pay his fine.”

  “All right. That’ll be five pounds, miss.”

  Kat paid the fine and waited for the sergeant to release Brodie. The collar of his shirt was ripped half off, and his eyes were underscored by deep circles.

  “Thanks for comin’, Kat.”

  “That’s all right, Brodie. You need to get back to the base, I take it?”

  “Yes. I wish I had a place to get cleaned up first.”

  “Maybe we can sneak you back in.”

  “No chance of that. I’ve been gone too long. I’ll have to face up to Parker.”

  “Well, come along. I’ll go with you.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Kat. But I did lose all my money somewhere. Just give me cab fare.”

  “No. I’ll go with you.”

  Actually Brodie was glad for her company. He sat in the cab feeling hung over and ashamed. “I hate drunks, and the drunk I hate the most is me.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “Well, it was like this. Parker peeled my potato in front of the whole squadron. It was all about flying in close formation, which I’ve told him before I think is stupid. I just got sore and walked out.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Don’t preach at me, Kat.” He shook his head wearily. “I know I was wrong, and I feel terrible.”

  She did not argue, and they sat quietly until they arrived at the airfield. “You go get cleaned up. I’ll find Parker and try to explain.”

  “Would you, Kat? That’ll help a bit, maybe. Skipper thinks the world of you.”

  The two divided then, Brodie sneaking as much as he could to his quarters to change his uniform while Kat went directly to the operations room. When she entered she asked for Parker, and the lieutenant nodded toward a door. “He’s right back there, miss.”

  “Do I need to be announced?”

  “No. Just knock on the door.”

  Kat knocked and opened the door when Parker called for her to come in.

  She saw surprise flare in Parker’s eyes. He was sitting behind his desk, and he got up at once. “Kat!” he said, and he smiled as he came around to greet her. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “No. I expect not. I have a favor to ask.”

  “A favor? Well, you certainly have one coming. You’ve been so good to the children.”

  “It’s about Brodie.”

  “Brodie? What about him?” Parker frowned and shook his head. “He’s been off the station without permission.”

  “I know. He got into trouble, Parker. He was arrested.”

  “What for?”

  “He got drunk and got into a fight.”

  “I can’t believe he’d do a stupid thing like that! He knows he wasn’t supposed to leave the station.”

  Kat almost said something about the argument over formation flying but did not feel she was qualified. “He feels awful about this, Parker. You know how it is when you pilots go into pubs. Everybody wants to buy you a drink.”

  “Most of us manage to say no before we get blind drunk.”

  “I know, but apparently Brodie’s got a problem with this.”

  Parker was angry over the man’s misbehavior, but he saw the concern in her face. “You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?”

  “We’ve known each other so long, and he’s been a good friend to me. I know he’s very sorry for what he did. He’ll be coming to tell you so as soon as he gets cleaned up.” She stepped closer. “Please, Parker. I can’t interfere with your policies as his superior officer, but Brodie’s not the kind of man that responds very well to harshness.”

  “I can’t gloss over this, Katherine. It would set a bad precedent.”

  “I know that, but I just wanted to put in a good word for him.”

  “Well, I’ll make the punishment as light as I can.”

  “Thank you, Parker.”

  At that moment Parker Braden found Katherine Winslow most appealing. There was a freshness about her that never seemed to change, and now he stood for a moment wondering if he dared ask her to have tea.

  Seeing that he wasn’t ready for her to leave, Kat agreed to his unspoken offer. “Yes, thank you—I could use a little refreshment.”

  “Fine. I’ll have tea sent in, and we can have some of the cake my mother sent over.”

  Ten minutes later the two were seated in his office drinking tea and nibbling at the cake. They said no more about Brodie, but Kat was sure Parker would show clemency.

  “I’ll be going to see Paul and Heather later this week.”

  “Really?” Parker brightened at once. “How did that come about?”

  “Your mother called me and invited me out for dinner this Wednesday.”

  “I wish I could be there, but I’ll be tied to the station.” He suddenly got up and said, “I got the children some stuffed toys. Maybe you could take them to them.”

  He pulled a sack from behind his desk and showed her the stuffed animals. One was of a fuzzy bear with bright button eyes, and the other was an elephant with a trunk that curled up. “They’ll probably fight over who gets which one,” he said. “You’ll have to sort it out.”

  “But, Parker, you ought to give these to them yourself.”

  “I know. I wish I could be there.”

  Kat stayed for ten more minutes before leaving. As Parker watched her go, he saw Brodie coming across the field. Just the sight of the man irritated him, but he shook his head. “I’ll have to make it easy on him. Kat’s right. He’s not the kind of chap who responds to a whipping.”

  ****

  “Oh, that was a marvelous production, Charlie!”

  Charles Gooding was sitting across from Veronica at the best steak house in London. She had agreed to attend the production and then later they had gone out to eat. “It was rather good, wasn’t it? But the leading lady left a little bit to be desired.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought she did rather well.”

  “You could do better.”

  Veronica looked up suddenly. “What do you mean, Charlie?”

  “I mean it’s a shame that you are wasting your talent.” He gave her a warm smile and shook his head. “You had a great future before you. I’ve always been grieved that you weren’t able to continue. Isn’t it time you made a comeback?”

  At one point it had appeared that Veronica was headed for a top career on the stage when her work had been interrupted first by marriage and pregnancy, then the tragic death of her first husband and second marriage to Parker Braden in close succession. She had known Charlie Gooding for some time, having met when they had both had small parts in the same production. He had been married at the time, but he had befriended her and encouraged her acting ambitions. Now Gooding was divorced and had become a successful producer.

  “Why, that’s out of the question, Charlie.”

  “You ought to think about it.”

  Veronica looked down for a moment, and when she looked up there was almost desperation in her eyes. “I would love to, but how can I? Parker would divorce me.”

  “But ot
her married women go on with their stage work.”

  “I have two children.”

  “You know as well as I do that some married women with children do very well on the stage.”

  The conversation went on for some time. Veronica had been surprised when Charlie had brought the matter up, but she herself had thought of it many times—especially as her marriage to Parker became increasingly frustrating. She missed the stage desperately, and now that Charlie had mentioned it, her old desires came rushing back.

  All the way home Charlie Gooding kept speaking of how easy it would be for her to return. “I’ll be going into production with a new play soon, and we’re looking right now for people. You’d be perfect for one of the roles. Not the lead but the second. But it would be a good career move for you, and you and I could work together.”

  “I’d love to, Charlie. There’s nothing I would like better. But I don’t see how I could do it. You don’t know what I would have to face at home.”

  “It might be hard,” he agreed with a shrug, “but wouldn’t it be worth it? And if you were successful, they’d be proud of you.”

  “Not Parker. He wants me to stay home all the time—be a nice homey woman. I’ll never be the kind of woman he wants.”

  When Charlie pulled up in front of her house, he said, “Don’t go. Let’s talk about this a bit more.”

  “It’s getting late, Charlie.”

  But he was persuasive. They talked for twenty minutes, and she realized that his interest in her was more than just professional. She saw it in his eyes, and when he pulled her into his arms, she did not protest, returning his kiss with the same passion he gave to her.

  Finally she whispered, “I’ve got to go in, Charlie.”

  “Think about doing the play. I believe it would be right—for both of us.”