Both laughed.
Gelardi came around the counter carrying a leather flying suit. “Let me help you, Captain,” he said as he handed him a pair of fleece lined leather pants. Rocko got them on and Gelardi adjusted the suspenders so that the pants came up to Rocko’s chest. Next the quartermaster helped him get into the fleece lined leather coat and button it up. Finally, he had Rocko sit on a wooden box as he helped him put the large flying boots on. He then handed him a pair of leather flying gloves that came up to his elbows.
Sergeant Gelardi then handed him a leather flying helmet and goggles.
“There!” said LaGuardia, “You’re set to fly.”
“Even if I can’t move in this outfit?”
“That’s all right, the enemy uses the same type of flying clothes so we’re all equal.” He laughed as he patted Rocko’s back and said, “Come, my friend, let’s walk over to the next hangar.”
“You mean waddle.”
“Ha, you’ll get used to it,” he turned and said to his quartermaster, “Thank you sergeant, you may continue with your inventory.”
The commander led the way to a group of tents at the end of the grass runway and Rocko started to sweat in his flying clothes.
They entered the first tent and Rocko was thankful for the shade. His eyes adjusted to the dark interior and suddenly he could make out a large bomber. Wow! he thought as he forgot all about his discomfort in the bulky flying clothes, A real World War 1 bomber! And I’m going to fly in one piloted by the future mayor of New York City. He shook his head, Boy, the things I can’t tell people!
“What do you think, Rocko?” asked LaGuardia as he looked up at the craft. “A beauty, right? She’s sixty-six feet wide and made out of some of the strongest wood in the world. Her three, Isotta fraschini engines each have 150 horsepower that can give her a top speed of 85 miles-per-hour! She can carry bombs or mines and has two 7.7mm machine guns for defense.” He shook his head as he ran a hand along the smooth canvas side, “A work of love.” He turned to Rocko, “I spoke with the workers in the Caproni plant which produce them and they are committed to making the best bomber in the world. And they have! The British and French, as well as the Americans and Italians all, fly them. Fast and reliable besides being a work of art.”
A mechanic walked around the craft and when he spotted the two officers, shouted, “Attention!”
“As you were, men,” said LaGuardia as he walked towards the man.
“Is she ready to fly, trooper?”
“Yes sir, just needs gassing.”
“We just need to have enough to get us to Rome plus a small reserve. We’ll fuel up once we’re at the airfield in Rome. Can you take care of that while I get dressed?”
“Sure, Captain.” He turned and shouted, Grimes, McAuley, get some of the troops and help me roll her out and gas her up. Captain LaGuardia is taking her up.”
Rocko and LaGuardia stood to the side as LaGuardia put his flight clothes on and the men rolled the big aircraft out into the sunlight. Both of them waited inside as a fuel truck put in the required amount of gas. Finally, as the men reeled the gas hose back into the truck, Rocko and LaGuardia left the shade of the tent and walked out to the bomber. Before they boarded, Rocko watched as LaGuardia did a walk-around, checking the tires, guy wires and various connections, even lifting and lowering the immense tail surfaces before finally finishing a full circle.
“Okay, Rocko, let’s climb up into the cockpit.” He pointed out the small notches for Rocko to place his feet in as he climbed up and into the open cockpit. He finally sat only to find that LaGuardia was already seated in the pilot’s seat all buckled up.
“What took you so long?” asked a laughing LaGuardia? He pointed to the seatbelts and said, “Cinch them tight. Most crashes occur on takeoff and you’ll want to be strapped in tightly.”
Rocko glanced at him as he tightened the belts as tight as possible and noted that he wasn’t smiling but was suddenly all business . . . and the time traveler was happy about that..
A voice from below called out, “Ready, sir?”
Rocko looked down to see a man with his hands on the propeller of the right-hand engine. Glancing at the other engine he saw another man by that engine’s prop and finally, twisting around, he saw a third man standing at the rear, pusher engine.
“Set,” called back LaGuardia as he flipped open the magneto switch on the dashboard, “Switch on.” The man pulled the prop and the engine sputtered and went quiet. The man called out, “Again,” and pulled the prop again only to see it stop. He rubbed his hands and grabbed the prop as he called out, “Again!” and pulled the prop down. It turned once and suddenly it spun around as a belch of black, blue and white smoke ripped from the exhaust pipes. The trooper gave LaGuardia a thumbs-up sign.
It went the same for the left-hand engine and soon both were running as the rear mounted engine started on the first try and all hummed smoothly.
LaGuardia looked over at Rocko and shouted over the noise of the engine, “Ready?”
Rocko nodded with a smile as LaGuardia checked the gauges. He pointed in order: Fuel, Oil temperature, oil pressure, engine’s head temperature and magneto. As far as Rocko was concerned it looked good to him and a smiling LaGuardia checked his front and seeing that the grassy runway was clear, advanced the throttle to an earsplitting level. The heavy bomber sat there for a moment, then suddenly moved a bit, followed by a rolling, undulating movement as the wheels rode over the slightly bumpy grass runway. Picking up speed, Rocko watched as the tents flew by, each with a group of men watching as the great wings sought the lift they needed for flight. Just as Rocko thought they weren’t going to make it, the aircraft suddenly stopped the up and down motion of the wheels rolling on the ground and lifted up as LaGuardia pulled back on the control wheel. He looked at Rocko and smiled, as he winked at him from behind his goggles.
Rocko looked down as the bomber rolled to the left as she climbed. He looked over to see LaGuardia smiling confidently as he piloted the big aircraft around the fluffy clouds.
Twenty minutes into the flight, Rocko felt the cold wind pulling at his flying helmet. He buttoned it tighter and felt the cold as it got to his toes. Now he was thankful for the heavy flight gear he wore. Suddenly the front gunner’s machine gun swung around in the slipstream, the broken locking mechanism slapping the sides of the aircraft. Although there were no bullets in it, the long barrel swung around and threatened to snap off and break their windshield or worse, fly into one of the engines. Both men realized the danger at the same time and LaGuardia pulled back the earflap of Rocko’s helmet and shouted, “Hold the wheel straight and I’ll crawl through the tunnel and tie it down.” He pointed at the small communications tunnel between their cockpit and the open gunner’s position at the nose of the bomber. Rocko knew immediately that LaGuardia could never fit through the small crawlspace and shook his head, no. He grabbed LaGuardia’s earflap and shouted, “No! You pilot and I’ll crawl through.” LaGuardia knew he was right and nodded so.
Rocko undid his seatbelt and shouted to LaGuardia, “No sudden moves, my friend,” LaGuardia smiled and gave a thumbs-up as Rocko slid from his seat to the floor of the open cockpit. As he opened the small door that separated the cockpit from the gunner’s position, the wind came rushing through the small tunnel at seventy-five miles per hour forcing him back momentarily. He put his head down and forced his way into the small opening as the gun swung around and hit his arm. Biting his lip, he reached for the swinging machine gun just as the loose locking mechanism caught on the end of his glove tearing it off his hand and throwing it out of the small gunner’s position.
“Awww,” he said as he reached again only to have it swing away again. His exposed right hand suddenly got intensely cold to the point of being almost numb. Rocko leaned forward more than he wanted to and grabbed the gun barrel as it swung by his head. He saw ammunition drums held by leather straps along the inside of the opening and quickly removed a drum and
buckled the straps around the gun barrel. Finished, he sat back to get his breath and was rewarded by getting hit in the mouth by the ammunition drum he had removed from the straps as it flew out of the bomber.
Five minutes later, LaGuardia saw a bloodied-mouth Rocko getting back in his seat. He had to buckle himself in using one hand, as his right hand was numb. He finally was able to stick his gloveless hand inside of his long coat for some relief.
LaGuardia went down to a slightly warmer, lower altitude and Rocko inspected his hand. He looked across at LaGuardia and with a smile gave him a thumbs up with his gloveless hand before putting it back inside his coat and looked down as Italy of 1917 slowly passed by beneath the wings of the bomber.
Rocko smiled as he saw the ruins of Rome that had been there for hundreds of years and would remain there all the way up to his time.
There was a decrease of sound from the engines as LaGuardia pointed down. Rocko read his lips more than heard the man say, “Landing. Buckle tight.” He tightened up as the bomber started a wide circle as it descended. Finally, Rocko could see their destination: right next to the Arch of Constantine was a long grassy strip with a dozen aircraft sitting on one end.
Although LaGuardia was a small man he handled the big bomber easily as the field of cut grass seemingly rushed up to meet them and suddenly there was the familiar undulating feel as the wheels rolled along the field of green and come to a stop near a typical canvas tent.
Both men climbed down from the bomber as a group of men ran to the aircraft and greeted them in Italian as they pushed the bomber off the runway. A slim, sharply dressed lieutenant drove over in a Fiat and snapped to attention as he stepped out of the car.
“Captains! Greetings from the commander. He received a copy of your flight plan and regrets that he cannot be here, as he must attend a meeting. I am Lieutenant Belli at your service.”
The two captains saluted back and LaGuardia said, “Thank you for your hospitality, Lieutenant Belli. Actually Captain Perna and I would appreciate borrowing an automobile for an hour or so and could we have our bomber refueled for a trip back to Foggia?”
“Absolutely, Captain LaGuardia. Please take my Fiat.”
“Ahhh,” said a grateful LaGuardia; “I shall treat her as a woman, Lieutenant.” He grabbed the man and kissed both cheeks as he took the car keys.
“First we’ll climb out of our flight gear and can you have them placed in the cockpit for our return?”
“No problem, Captain LaGuardia,” he answered as they took off the heavy gear and passed it to the young man.
LaGuardia said, “Thank you, Lieutenant Belli,” he then addressed Rocko, “Come Captain Perna, we must be at our scheduled meeting with King Emmanuel.”
At that, the Lieutenant stood even taller. “If possible, my captain, would you mention my name to the King?”
“Absolutely!” said a smiling LaGuardia.
As the two men climbed into the car, Rocko reminded LaGuardia, “We must be back at the base by ten this evening, right Fiorello?”
“Absolutely, my friend.”
LaGuardia drove the Fiat like he was an Italian cab driver. He knew all the shortcuts and back streets, which gave Rocko a different view of Rome than the one had when he went for a vacation three years earlier. As they drove past the Coliseum, the time traveler grinned to see a young man dressed as a roman soldier posing with a young lady as they had their picture taken by the lady’s friend. Rocko knew that the faux soldier would get a tip for allowing her, or anyone else, to stand next to him for a picture. I wonder if that was his great great grandson I saw when I was here?
“Here it is!” shouted LaGuardia as he slammed on the brakes. He opened his door as he shouted, “Come on, Rocko, you’re going to love this place.”
A small business with an open storefront and a hand painted sign above it stated that it was Mario Caputo Cappuccino Café. There was a line of mostly businessmen lined up but when the owner, a huge, heavy man with a thick black drooping mustache saw LaGuardia, he ran out onto the sidewalk and hugged him as he lifted him off the ground.
"Fiorello! Amico mio, come stai?"
(“Fiorello! My friend, how have you been?”)
After he could catch his breath, LaGuardia said, "Bene, amico mio, bene. Questo è mio amico da Brooklyn, New York, Rocko Perna."
(“Just fine, my friend, just fine. This is my friend from Brooklyn, New York, Rocko Perna.”)
Mario grabbed Rocko’s hand and as he pumped it, said, "Rocko Perna, che bel nome italiano. Benvenuto sia di voi al mio umile negozio. Vieni dentro.”
(“Rocko Perna, what a beautiful Italian name. Welcome both of you to my humble shop. Come inside.”)
They went into the shop and Mario took them to a tall, small round table without stools. LaGuardia said in an apologetic voice, "Amico mio, noi non possiamo rimanere lunghi. Appena fermato per un cappuccino allora noi dobbiamo volare indietro a Foggia."
(“My friend, we cannot stay long. Just stopped in for a cappuccino then we must fly back to Foggia.”)
Mario grinned as he poured three cups of cappuccino and asked, "Perché insistere sul rimanere a Foggia quando sai che giù profondo sei un romano e dovrebbe vivere qui a Roma, dove tutto ruota intorno a noi?"
(“Why do you insist on staying in Foggia when you know that down deep you are a Roman and should live here in Rome where everything revolves around us?”)
The three took a sip of their cappuccinos and smiled.
"Assolutamente il miglior cappuccino",
(“Absolutely the best cappuccino,”) said LaGuardia as Mario refilled his cup. They had another cup and LaGuardia slapped down five dollars.
The big man pushed it back and said, "No! Insisto sul fatto che questo è su di me, i miei amici. Ora vai prima che si vola nel buio."
(“No! I insist that this is on me, my friend. Now go before you are flying in the dark.”)
The two men hugged and Rocko tried to shake the big man’s hand but instead was given a gentle bear hug.
Rocko said, "Grazie per la vostra ospitalità, Mario. Meraviglioso incontrarvi. Good bye."
(“Thank you for your hospitality, Mario. Wonderful meeting you. Good bye.”)
They left the shop and stopped next to a lady with a cart on the side of the road. LaGuardia called out, "Miss, quanto per tutte le torte dolci?"
(“Miss, how much for all of the sweet cakes?”)
The little lady answered, “Quindici lire, Signore.”
(“Fifteen Lira, sir.”)
LaGuardia passed her the money through the car’s open window and said, “Li prendo tutti, signorina.”
(“I'll take them all, miss.”)
She quickly filled three bags with the sweet cakes and passed them to LaGuardia. “Grazie, Signore. Buon giorno.”
(“Thank you, sir. Good day.”)
The car smelled of sweet cookies as he drove back to the field, once again taking the back streets. As they pulled into the field the same Lieutenant was standing by the gate and seemed very relieved that his car was back.
He saluted and said, “Ahh, Captains, I do hope your trip went well?”
“That it did, Lieutenant, and to thank you for the use of your car, please accept this bag of sweet cookies.”
“I thank you, sir. By the way did you get to meet with the king?”
LaGuardia grinned and said, “I can only say: don’t be surprised if something good comes out of my meeting with the king.”
With an ear-to-ear smile, the man hopped in the rear and they drove straight to LaGuardia’s bomber. “She is fueled up and ready for your departure, Captain.”
“Many thanks, Lieutenant Belli. We’ll suit up and take off right away. Please give my best wishes to your commander when he returns.” They all saluted and the Lieutenant got into the driver’s seat.
The future mayor of New York City said to Rocko as he watched the man drive off, “He did us a good turn, my friend, and for that I’ll make a call to his c
ommander and have him promoted to captain.” LaGuardia then tossed the two remaining bags of cookies into a small compartment near the right wing and both men took their flying clothes from the cockpit, suited up and at 2:20 they were airborne.
The flight back to Foggia was uneventful except for a headwind that slowed them down. They landed at 5:00 p.m. As they rolled to a stop a group of soldiers ran out and after both men had climbed down and retrieved the two bags of cookies out of the plane, they pushed her back into the hangar.
“Come, Rocko,” said LaGuardia, “Let’s wash up and have some chow.”
Rocko agreed and said as they walked to their quarters, “What’s tonight’s specialty?
A grinning LaGuardia said, “Octopus in red clam sauce and linguini.”
Rocko rolled his eyes.
They washed up and had dinner. Rocko treated himself and LaGuardia to a Cuban cigar as they sipped red wine on a small concrete veranda at the rear of the commander’s room. At Rocko’s wish, they spoke only in Italian so anyone listening wouldn’t know that they were waiting to hear one of the bombers start its engines.
“The crucial time period,” said LaGuardia as he flicked at the ash at the tip of his cigar, “starts at ten o’clock. If the traitor had to bomb the palace in Rome at one o’clock, they must leave here by ten forty-five. And in order to leave at ten forty-five, they have to warm up the engines and do a preflight. So from ten o’clock on, we must be vigilant.”
It was ten o’clock and they sat and talked about family, Brooklyn and the streets of New York City until LaGuardia said, “You know, my friend, I don’t remember ever saying anything about building an airport in Queens. But,” he went on with a smile, “if was me that said it, it’s a great idea!” He sipped his wine and went on, “New York City is growing fast and the population will take to aviation easily and I do believe that airplanes will be the people-mover like no other people-mover. We are going to need a lot of planes for them and that means an airport for the city.”
Book X Page 17
