John knew the war would be over in two days. He also thought that he had spent enough time pretending to be in the Army of 1918. Sooner or later someone might take a close look at this inventive officer from Air Training Command and say they needed him in Europe to evaluate German aircraft. A million things could go wrong to keep him trapped in the wrong time. Besides, he thought, I want to see my boy and grandson.
To Rickenbacker’s question, he said, “I’d love to stay, sir, but Air Training Command needs me back as soon as possible. I’ve got some great information to pass along to keep our new boys alive in this type of environment. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
“Fine. I’ll set up transportation back to the rear. Meanwhile, I’ll see you in the mess for supper.”
John left to wash and change.
After a nap, John felt refreshed and went to the mess to see the group one more time before he left. He walked in and they were all there before him. Rickenbacker was at his usual table along with Dowd and Divers with another man. They all greeted him as he sat with his tray.
Rickenbacker smiled his big grin and said, “John, this gentleman insisted he meet you, so I took the liberty of asking him to join us for supper. Tomorrow the Field Police take him to their holding pens, but for this evening, he’s our guest.”
It was the German the time traveler had downed that afternoon. John looked at the stranger. His blond hair was close cropped on the sides, but long in front and almost covered his deep blue eyes. When he smiled, dimples appeared in his cheeks.
The German officer suddenly stood and saluted John as he said with an accent.
“Sir, I salute you. You flew a masterful flight this day and it was the first time I was ever put down.” He stood ramrod straight in his field-gray officer’s uniform, which he had worn beneath his flying suit. At the neck of his tunic was an Iron Cross of the German air force.
John smiled as he offered his hand and said, “Pleased to meet you sir and I’m glad you survived your trip down to earth without your spinner.” Then he thought, Boy, he looks familiar.
Rickenbacker said, “Gentlemen, please sit.”
Suddenly John recognized the officer he had downed. My God, it’s Herman Goering! He stared as the future head of the German Luftwaffe addressed him.
“Sir, I am Kommandeur Herman Goering of Jagdgeschwader Freiherr von Richthofen No. 1, Jasta 11. I am at your service. Now, please tell me, your people say that one of your machine guns was in perfect condition, yet you never shot at me, and many times you could have. Why?”
John shrugged his shoulders and answered, “The war is almost over, sir, why take another life?”
Goering nodded and looked down, knowing that he had tried to kill John. He removed his Iron Cross and said to John as he handed it to him. “Sir, for me the war is over. I can only hope to go back and help rebuild Germany and see what life holds in store for me. Please accept this as a token of friendship that I hope endures over the years to come.”
Rickenbacker stood and raised his wineglass, “Gentlemen, to outliving the war.”
They all stood and raised their glasses.
The supper lasted until ten o’clock, and John finally said good night. He thought as he walked back to his tent, Life is funny. I almost killed the future head of the German air force of 1940. If I had killed him, someone else would have taken his place in the future, maybe someone even more capable than him. We’ll just have to see how it plays out in the forties.
The next morning the orderly woke him at seven o’clock. Rickenbacker and the group were flying already and John was told that, at eight-fifteen, a B.E. 2C would fly him back to Le Petit Quevilly Aerodrome. After a fast cup of coffee, he threw his bag into the camera bay of the two-seater and they took off.
The trip was uneventful and he hopped a truck back to the docks of Le Havre. He spent the night in the Officers Club and once he was alone in his room, took out his communicator and typed:
BILL, HELLO FROM 1918. I’M HAPPY TO SAY, MISSION COMPLETED. CAPTAIN EDDIE IS SAFE AND THE WAR ENDS TOMORROW. I’LL BE ON A TROOPSHIP LE BEBE THAT IS GOING BACK TO NEW YORK. AS YOU KNOW WE’LL BE AT SEA WHEN THEY LEARN OF THE WAR’S END BUT THE SHIP WILL CONTINUE THE TRIP TO NEW YORK CITY. SHOULD SEE YOU IN FOURTEEN DAYS. REGARDS JOHN. P.S. COMBAT WAS GREAT, SCARY AS HELL AND I’VE HAD ENOUGH FOR A LIFETIME. GOT A SMALL SCRATCH FROM THE FOKKER’S GUNS AND CAPTAIN EDDIE GAVE ME A PURPLE HEART.
The trip back went as expected and when the announcement came of the war’s end over the radio, the ship ran with lights blazing and drinks flowed freely.
Fourteen days later it docked at the foot of Forty-Eighth Street and John walked down the gangplank into the streets of New York City, 1918. He joined the line of people waiting for taxis when someone from one of the black-and-yellow cabs across the street called his name. There was Bill waving him over. John threw his bag in the front and jumped in.
They shook hands, as Bill said, “Couldn’t let a serviceman, who just left combat, come home and not have someone waiting for him. Welcome home, Johnny.”
“Thanks, Bill, for picking me up, and getting me my combat time.”
“No problem. I’m sure you did a great job.”
The taxi pulled up at The 1800 Club, and Bill said, “I have a nice dinner ready for you.”
“Good. I need a good meal. That shipboard food was mostly military meals and I feel like I lost weight.”
They went into the garden, and then up the inside staircase and Bill opened the door.
DATELINE: 1918 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY
The lights were low as Matt greeted them and looked at his pocket watch.
“Good evening, gentlemen, your timing is perfect, dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”
Bill pointed to a small room off the den lit by candlelight. “Go ahead, John, I’ll join you in a second.”
John walked into the room and two men stepped from behind an 1800s dressing screen. John recognized his son immediately and then his grandson. They smiled as they walked to him, arms outstretched.
Bill left them alone and Matt brought him a steak supper, which he ate by himself in his den.
Later that evening, Bill took John back to his 1940 Ford Coupe parked in front of the garden.
John smiled as he said, “Bill, the past few weeks were the best that could happen to a man. To see my boy, and his boy both successful in life was fantastic. That plus getting some combat time and besting Herman Goering, well, that’s the best.”
They shook hands as he continued, “Thanks to you, Bill, I’ve changed my life in many ways. I quit smoking and will look forward to teaching my students all I know.” He hesitated and asked, “Will I ever see you again?”
Bill hesitated a second, then answered, “I won’t say no. A good man is hard to find, and now that I know you are as reliable as your grandson, well, you never can tell.”
John started his car’s engine and with a big grin, gunned it and drove back to Floyd Bennett Field and his job as a Flight Training Instructor. But, this time with some combat time under his belt along with a Purple Heart and an Iron Cross.
DATELINE: 1865 PLACE: DIAMOND’S BAR & GRILL, NEW YORK CITY
The next day Bill took John Brand the Third out to lunch at the Diamonds Bar & Grill of 1865. They took the booth in the corner next to the stuffed moose head. Paddy Diamond brought them a couple of tall beers and they ordered the steak special with boiled potatoes, fried carrots and onions. He brought them a second beer with their lunch and went back to tend bar.
Bill raised his glass and said, “Here’s to your grandfather and a successful mission.”
John raised his glass, “To grandpa.”
“So,” continued Bill, “how was the family reunion back in 1918?”
“Bill, it was fantastic. I want to thank you for letting me bring my dad in on the time travel secret. I thought it was odd, how he accepted it right away, and then I heard the whole story. This time travel thin
g is so intricate, it’s baffling.”
“How so?” asked Bill as he sipped his beer.
John sat back and laughed, “My dad already knew!”
Bill’s eyebrows arched. “He knew? About the time travel?”
“Yep! He knew. Here’s how it all went down.” He sat forward and spoke in a low voice, “You sent my grandfather back to 1918 and he completed the mission. He came back, and when his son, my father, was twenty-one-years old, grandpa told him about his trip back. He even showed him the sketch of the speed brake he drew on the Ninety-Fourth Squadron’s letterhead with the group’s logo, the ‘Hat in the Ring, on it. He also showed him the Purple Heart he got from Rickenbacker, along with the Iron Cross from Goering.”
He took a sip of his beer then went on. “So my dad knew as I was growing up. But my grandfather is a wise man and told him not to tell me until after we had the family reunion at the club last night.” He sat back and smiled, “Pretty wild, huh?”
“I never knew.” said Bill, “That’s amazing.”
“And,” John continued, “my grandfather’s playing tennis with my dad tomorrow. He’s truly a new man . . . a healthy man, thanks to you.”
Paddy Diamond came over to Bill and motioned to a gentleman seated at the bar having a Vodka Tonic. Bill smiled as he recognized his right-hand man at the club, Matt.
Bill nodded slightly at him and said to John, “Matt would like a word with me, Johnny. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” He picked up his beer and went over to the bar and sat next to Matt. “Cheers, Matt. Visiting or here for club business?”
“Bit of both, sir. I have a bowling date with Paddy and Mr. Edmund gave me a message for you.”
He passed Bill a small cube that fit in his palm. Bill pressed his thumb against it, and the cube, recognizing his print, activated a small hologram. The electrons put together a tiny figure of a woman. It spoke to him, saying,
“Good day, Mr. Scott, or good evening, as I’m not sure when you are looking at this mini-hologram. I’m Maryellen Muldey and we have a problem we’d like to bring to your attention. It concerns an early aviatrix, Amelia Earhart. When we are ready, we’ll contact you through your descendent, Mr. Edmund Scott. Thank you for your time, Mr. Scott, and we look forward to seeing you again.”
The mini-hologram clicked off. Matt asked, “Shall I accompany you back, sir?”
Bill shook his head, “No, Matt, thanks anyway. Enjoy your game, I’ll see you later.” He walked back to John.
“What’s up?” John asked.
“Got to wait and see about a mission they have coming up.” He looked at John and continued, “We may need you, Johnny. It’s about Amelia Earhart, the lady pilot.”
John nodded and with a smile answered, “Amelia Earhart? Wow! Just give me a call. I’m set to go.”
They returned to the garden of the club and as Bill locked the gate behind them he said, “These were easy times, John. It’s always a treat to return to 1865.”
“Yep, maybe I’ll retire to here.”
“Well, if you do, I’ll meet you in Paddy Diamonds.”
They went back to The 1800 Club of 2011.
Chapter II
THE AMELIA EARHART MISSION
DATELINE: JULY 4, 1937 PLACE: OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA
The weather was perfect as the twin-engine Lockheed Electra aircraft landed at Oakland airport as it completed an around-the-world trip. The whirling propellers came to a halt as the engines were switched off and immediately the ticking sounds, characteristic of an engine cooling down, began.
The small door in the center of the left side popped open and a smiling Amelia Earhart put her head out to the applause and cheers from the crowd that surrounded her aircraft. The breeze played with her short, brown hair as she removed her leather helmet and stepped onto the small ladder pushed against the aircraft’s fuselage. A little girl walked towards her with a bouquet of red roses in her hand.
Almost unnoticed, another figure exited the aircraft after her. It was Fred Noonan, the navigator of the trip. Reporters surrounded Amelia, all trying to get an exclusive interview as Noonan removed their baggage and locked up the airplane.
A Monarch butterfly fluttered overhead, staying aloft easily in the rising heat of the airport’s tarmac.
DATELINE: 2066 PLACE: TIME TRACKING CENTER, NEW YORK CITY
Joseph Sergi sat alone in the room, his feet up on the table as he reclined in the deep leather chair. He was munching on a meatball hero sandwich as he watched the hologram scene unfurl.
The door opened and Jerry Sullivan entered carrying a salad in a plastic deli container. He nodded to Joseph as he sat down and opened the lid.
“What are you watching, Joseph?” he asked, as he poured on the heavy dressing that he knew was defeating the purpose of eating a healthy green salad.
Joseph shrugged his wide shoulders as he finished swallowing a mouthful. “Not sure, Sully,” he said. “The new Monarch butterfly probe came in this morning with the usual batch and I just grabbed one from the top of the group.”
He looked back at the scene in front of them. “Looks like an old 1930s aviation event.” He took another bite and tried to continue, “Mmmmph!. . . looks like a record was just set or something. There was lots of that going on in early aviation. You know, first flight here, longest flight there; it went on and on. That’s why it was called ‘The Golden Age of Aviation.’”
Sullivan sat closer and squinted. “Looks like Amelia Earhart setting out on a trip.”
“Naw,” responded Joseph, wiping his chin of stray tomato sauce, “the plane just landed before you came in.”
Sullivan reached over and increased the volume to hear the reporter say, “So, Amelia, how does it feel to fly around the world?”
Both men sat forward, suddenly very interested as she answered, “Pretty good, tiring, of course, but it’s always fun to finish a project and start planning the next one.”
Another reporter shouted, “Amelia, Amelia, what’s the next project going to be?”
She smelled the flowers the little girl had given her, and then answered with a big grin on her thin face, “A shower, then a steak dinner and a reunion with my husband, George.” She walked through the crowd with her navigator carrying their bags toward the airport’s operations center. The butterfly flew away.
“Sully,” said Joseph with a tone of concern, “will you call the group together? I think we might have a problem.”
One hour later the entire History Trackers Group was in session and gathered around the table watching the scene replay.
Joseph stood and said, “It’s clear now. Amelia Earhart and her navigator, Fred Noonan, returned from their around-the-world trip, from which they were never supposed to return.” He shrugged his shoulders as he raised his eyebrows and said, “What does this mean? I don’t know.” He shrugged again as if to punctuate his statement.
“Why don’t we run a computer check on the possible paths the event will take?” asked Maryellen Muldey, sipping a cold drink.
“Being done as we speak, Maryellen,” answered Joseph.
“Could be good,” said Alexis Shuntly, as she sat close to the hologram, squinting through her thick glasses. “Could really push women in the aerospace field, her coming back. Could really be good.”
“Did they ever find out what happened when she disappeared?” asked Muldey.
“No,” answered Joseph, “there were many theories, but they never proved any of them.” He pushed back his mop of tangled black hair only to have it return to cover his eyes. “But the one theory that kept coming up in old newspapers and computer printouts, is the one of her being shot down by the pre-war Japanese for flying over their territory.
“She was said to be on a secret photographic mission, and, during her flight, was supposed to depart from her course and fly over the island of Truk, which the Japanese were using as a naval base. Our government wanted photos of their fleet.”
A knock at the door got their
attention and Joseph opened it to see Ted, the group’s computer and probe guru. He had a few books under his arm as he was escorted into the room.
Joseph said, “Got anything for us, Ted?”
The tall young man shook his head and said, “Not really, sir, a few ideas, but it’s mostly speculation. As you know the world loved her and went into mourning after her disappearance. There were reports of her making radio calls as she searched for the place she was supposed to land at: Howland Island.”
He opened the books and spread out a map of the world. He pointed to a yellow line that showed her flight path up to where she disappeared.
Ted continued, “In June 1937 she and her navigator, Fred Noonan, took off from Oakland, California, and flew to Miami; San Juan, Puerto Rico; Venezuela, then to Brazil and across to Africa.
“She flew across the African continent, then across Southern Asia. They continued to Australia, then to Lae, New Guinea. They were last seen as they left New Guinea on July 2, 1937, on their way to Howland Island in the mid-Pacific, where fuel supplies awaited them. They never made it. There were radio calls from her, but no wreckage was ever found even though there was an extensive search for days by the U.S. Navy.
“There’s one more thing,” he said, looking at another book, “There were a few messages, but only one was authenticated as coming from her. It was; ‘We must be on you, but we cannot see you. Gas is running low. We are circling but cannot see island.’”
He put his book down, and the group sat somberly as though reliving the very moment when she disappeared.
“Well,” said Joseph breaking the spell, “maybe she’ll make it back after all, at least this time. What do you say, group? Do we let this change in time go through?”
“Whew!” whistled Jerry Sullivan through his teeth. “I’m not so sure. I mean how far up the line do we go to see if this is okay to let pass?”
Book IV Page 9
