“I told you I couldn’t see.”
“It’s not dark quite yet. What was distracting you?”
“You were.”
“Finally the truth, not that it makes any difference. Wolf, I don’t like pilots, and besides, you’re German, and no doubt soon to be our bitter enemies. That’s just what this country needs, another enemy.”
“I hope that isn’t so.”
Madeline tossed a tiny pebble into the pool and water rippled. “Wolf Kruger, there is a slight bit of sense in you. You do have a soft spot. Perhaps you should trip more often; it brings you back to earth.”
“Are we going to talk about tripping all night?”
Madeline leaned forward and put her hand into the pool. She pulled on a string and up came a bottle of champagne. “Don’t look so surprised. I thought pilots were trained for any situation.”
“Sir Winston had me race today with a bottle of champagne attached to the sailboat. English people are very strange.”
Madeline popped the cork on the champagne. “We do what must be done.”
“I am sorry about your father. Not that I even know who he is.”
Madeline took a drink from the champagne bottle. “So am I.” She handed the bottle to Wolf. “Cheers and all that.”
Wolf said softly, “There’s something else that no one knows yet but me.”
“Well?”
“I’ve been accepted to Luftwaffe flight training school. I report in one month’s time.”
“And your parents?”
“They don’t know.”
Madeline shook her head. “Shall I tell them?”
“Please don’t.”
“Wolf Kruger, you aren’t to be trusted.”
“I had no choice. I have to fly.”
“No choice. That’s a bunch of poppycock.”
“You won’t say anything. Not even Sir Winston knows.”
“My, you are a bigger fool than I imagined. Winston Churchill knows more than you think. Underestimate him at your risk. Many have only to be undone. Shall we toast your good fortune?”
“But you don’t like pilots.”
“That’s right; I don’t…” Madeline drank from the champagne bottle and gave it to Wolf. “Take a long drink; that’s what the RAF boys do while they can.” Wolf took a long drink from the champagne bottle. “Done like an ace.”
“An ace?”
“Now I have your attention. My father was an ace.”
“He was?”
“Surely, and look what it got him.” Madeline took the bottle from Wolf and chugged it. “Oh, I know you are different. You will never be shot down or burned in the cockpit. Wolf, you will be the exception... won’t you?”
“I hope so.”
“Drink up.”
Goodbyes
Professor and Mrs. Kruger said their farewells to Winston and Clementine at the edge of the driveway. A black sedan was waiting for the Krugers. Their driver opened the rear door to the car. “Madam.”
Professor Kruger said, “Sir Winston it has been a most enjoyable weekend. And Mrs. Churchill, your hospitality knows no measure.”
Clementine said, “Have a safe journey.”
Winston added, “Give our best to the University of Berlin. And do be careful.”
Professor Kruger nodded. “We will try, but there is only so much one can do.”
Wolf shook Winston’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“A better sailor, I have never come across. Good luck my boy.”
Madeline, who was standing just behind the Churchill’s, said, “Yes Wolf, good luck in whatever you do.”
“I hope to see you again someday. Perhaps I’ll find my footing by then.”
Madeline blushed slightly. “Go on, no one likes goodbyes.”
Wolf got in and the door to the limo closed. The limo pulled away and with it went young Wolf Kruger. Clementine went directly up the steps to talk to the head housekeeper. Winston and Madeline watched the sedan circle the driveway and head off toward London. Winston said, “What do you think of Wolf?”
“Well… I found him to be confident but certainly not boastful. However, he did trip into the herbaceous plants in the garden.”
“Did he get pricked?”
“Only in the heart.”
Winston laughed, “Indeed. The world belongs to the young at heart. It is rather unfortunate that so many hearts turn to stone in the later years.”
Madeline became somewhat sad. “I’m afraid that he’ll make an excellent pilot. Until he gets shot down. Wolf doesn’t think that will happen. They all get shot down.”
“That is one of the distinct drawbacks of the profession.”
Madeline said, “He got into flight school. His parents don’t know.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“Don’t you find it rather odd, that you know all about that, but his parents haven’t the foggiest idea. That’s somewhat sad. The things men and boys do, to get what they want.”
“My dear it’s a habit of the species. A man or a boy who is becoming a man will stop at nothing to get what he wants. At least, that is the case if he is worth anything.”
“And him?”
“Wolf? Well, I’m afraid the lad is on his way to becoming a man, much sooner than his parents realize.”
“But…”
“I believe he will move mountains to get what he wants. I just wonder what mountain he’s going to move.”
The limo disappeared, and Madeline smiled. “And you let him fly the Hurricane. Do you think that was wise? He’s going to flight school with first-hand knowledge of the plane.”
Winston’s face turned a bit red, and it wasn’t because of the scotch he had with lunch before the Kruger’s departed. “Madeline my dear the lad thinks our Hawker Hurricane fighter has a top speed of 325 MPH. But of course, that isn’t the case.”
“Uncle Winston... really. You used him.”
“I must admit, I do like the boy, but he is, after all, going to be a fighter pilot in the Luftwaffe. By the way, is your father doing any better?”
“No, he laments and drinks his days and life away.”
“Pity, such a waste of a fine man.”
Madeline thought for a second. “What is the top speed of the Hurricane?”
“Do you want to know?”
“No.”
“The Hurricane aside, this I can tell you. Herr Hitler may have got more than he bargained for with Wolf Kruger.”
“What do you mean?”
Winston brought his hand to his chin. “Nothing really, but I don’t see the lad goose-stepping in front of the Reichstag.”
Madeline took Winston’s hand, and they walked up the steps of Chartwell Manor. “He would most definitely slip.”
Luftwaffe Flight School
Major Otto Van Bruen was the Kommandant of the Luftwaffe’s Flight School. The school was the first step up the ladder for prospective recruits to join the Luftwaffe as qualified pilots.
The flight school was on the outskirts of Berlin. It was close enough to Berlin, so the recruits could enjoy themselves on the occasional weekend passes they secured. And far enough away from the capital and the civilians that aerial flights could be conducted without interruption and fear of crash landing an ancient Focke Wulf twin seat training biplane into the lap of someone’s breakfast.
Major Van Bruen was a former fighter pilot and one of the first aces of the German Air Force during World War I. Of course, he knew Hermann Goering, who himself was a famous pilot in the Luftwaffe. Hermann Goering loved the limelight and was an ardent supporter of Adolf Hitler. Goering was the architect of the Luftwaffe and oversaw every aspect of it.
Hermann Goering was also an obese heroin addict, who walked around with a specially designed powder blue uniform and a gaudy Roman inspired Air Marshal baton. He didn’t fit in with the Nazis, for all his grandstanding, but Hitler was indebted to him.
Goering was so fat that he couldn’t fit into a
cockpit of one of his old fighter planes. And even if he did, the World War I vintage aircraft had no hope of getting his lard-filled ass off the ground.
Major Van Bruen stood on a platform at the flight field’s parade grounds. Before him stood 400 young men who were in perfect formation. Wolf Kruger was one of them.
Major Van Bruen looked over the group and couldn’t help but wonder what would be their fate. There was no doubt that they were among the finest and bravest men that Germany had to offer to the Luftwaffe. Most were raw and lacked the basic of flying skills. But that would come in time and swiftly. Major Van Bruen also knew that if there was war in the coming years, many of them would die. Perhaps all of them.
He addressed the recruits, “You have been chosen and deemed worthy of flight training with the Luftwaffe. We shall see how worthy you are. Gentlemen, just because you stand before me doesn’t mean that you will earn your wings. Of course, you will be given that opportunity.
“But I can’t guarantee that success will be yours. I can assure you that if you fail, don’t fret... the Navy will take you. They need live bodies who can push a mop around a deck.” The recruits smiled, and Major Van Bruen was pleased. He sensed that he was indeed reaching them. The sooner, the better as far as he was concerned. He knew that one of the secrets to commanding men was to treat them with respect. If you commanded their respect, they would fly through brick walls for you.
Major Van Bruen continued his speech. “Gentlemen, the Luftwaffe needs pilots – pilots willing to fight for Germany and die if necessary. But I for one prefer that you let the enemy do the dying. The French and the British are good at that.”
The recruits broke into laughter. Wolf laughed with the others and kept his eyes on Major Van Bruen.
Major Van Bruen went on, “It is true we aren’t at war. However, the Luftwaffe must be prepared to do our part, if and when the time comes. We will give all of you the necessary tools to be successful. But you must be willing to fight and put your country first, ahead of everything else.”
Zigfried Bockler, a recruit on the parade grounds yelled, “Sir, Germany will have it’s revenge against the French, British and those who conspire against the Fuhrer.”
The recruits cheered, and Wolf looked at Zigfried, who was off to one side of him. The young man was stocky, with coarse blonde hair. He also seemed to enjoy the attention that was now coming his way. But Wolf thought it was more than bold, to interrupt Major Van Bruen’s speech. Who would do such a thing?
Major Von Bruen said, “Attention! I must remind all of you that we do not care about of politics and such. We are to fly planes and shoot down the enemy. Any future discussion of political matters, no matter how trivial, will get you that enlistment with the Navy.” Major Van Bruen looked at Zigfried Bockler with disdain. “Do I make myself clear?”
Zigfried went on, “Yes Major, but it’s just that some of us see the future very clearly. Germany is changing.” Wolf locked eyes with Zigfried. Zigfried took this as a challenge. “What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“I thought not.”
Major Von Bruen said, “Recruit, whoever you are, I see the future as well. And the next word you speak will be the last you ever utter at this flight school.”
Zigfried smirked, “Sir…”
* * *
Wolf found his assigned cot in barrack #6. It was in the rear of the wooden barracks, and he could feel the cold wind coming through the paper thin walls. He dropped his gear on his cot and was glad his mother had packed a good deal of warm clothing.
As for his parents, they were more than disappointed that he had gone behind their backs and joined the Luftwaffe Flight School. They tried to talk him out of it. But when Wolf showed them his acceptance papers and orders to report, all his mother did was go into her bedroom. Wolf felt bad, but not bad enough not to go. The sky was calling and there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Wolf was far from settled in when a fellow recruit named Hans Meyer jumped onto the adjoining cot. Hans landed on his back, and he folded his arms behind his head as if he was more than comfortable.
Hans was shorter than Wolf but he had wide shoulders. Wolf thought how this recruit reminded him of a bull. Hans closed his eyes and said, “When you get done, come over here and put my stuff away. Feel free to refold my underwear.”
Wolf reached into Hans’ open suitcase and picked up a pair of underwear and tossed them at Hans. It landed square in the new cadet’s face. “There you go. You’re ready to take flight.”
“That’s not very friendly.” Hans opened his eyes. “Hans Meyer from Dusseldorf. Actually, my family are potato farmers. If you want some advice on how to make vodka from potatoes I’m your man. We still use an outhouse at the farm and burn wood to keep warm. My mom cooks up a storm and that’s about it. I got tired of bailing hay and decided to apply for flight school. My father was more than happy to see me go. As for me, I won’t miss his thoughtful conversations.”
“Really.”
“Yes as in, ‘Hans you dunce get to work.’ Or, ‘Hans, why can’t you milk the cow any faster? What’s the matter; haven’t you seen a tit before?’ That’s my old man. He’d do anything for me.”
“How did you end up here?”
“Of course, I’m a glider pilot. Aren’t we all? I’ve been flying for over five years. They say I have a knack for it. I guess I have them fooled. Gliders?”
“Yes, but I’ve been up in a real plane. A fighter plane.” Wolf smiled and continued his unpacking.
Hans sat up in bed. “Don’t lie; I just met you. That comes later when I ask to borrow money from you. But why wait, how about lending your friend five marks.”
Wolf tossed another pair of underwear at Hans, who this time caught it. He looked at the underwear and dropped them off the side of his cot. “I’m serious, I did fly a fighter plane. And don’t worry; I don’t have any money that you can borrow. I’m as broke as you are. All I have in the world is inside my suitcase.”
A hand reached up from the cot. Hans said, “Looks like we’ll be friends. But you aren’t going to tell me about the fighter plane are you?”
“Not just yet. But if we ever make it, I’ll tell you everything.”
Hans sat up in his cot, and Wolf picked up his new friend’s underwear off the floor. “When do you think we’ll go up in the air?”
“You are from the backwoods,” laughed Wolf. “We won’t fly anything for quite a while. They’re going to work us to death to see who wants to stay. If we’re still standing, then maybe we’ll take to the air.”
Hans looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping “By the way, that cadet you were standing next to on the field – the guy with the big mouth.”
“What about him?”
“See, he’s in the front of the barracks. He has the number one position. I wonder how he got that.”
“What about him?”
Hans came closer to Wolf. “A word to the wise. I heard his father is a bigwig with the Nazi Party. Be careful what you say around him. Geez, you’re not a Nazi are you? That would be the end of me before I get started.”
“Don’t worry; you can always grow potatoes.”
“Thanks.”
“I wouldn’t worry about the Nazis.”
Hans sighed, “Are you kidding. They’re everywhere. You can’t be too careful. One second you’re making fun of their uniform, which looks like barf, and the next, you’re in front of firing squad.”
“Don’t overreact.”
“Yeah, he’s a Nazi all right.”
“That doesn’t mean he’ll be a good pilot.”
“No, but it does mean if you piss him off only bad things can happen.”
* * *
Early the next morning the cadets from barrack #6 lined up outside in the frigid air. Lieutenant Dieter, the barracks commander and physical training officer, sized up the 26 raw recruits. “Hurry up; get in formation. Come on; I don’t have all day.”
/> The recruits grumbled to cope with the frigid air. Hans rubbed his hands to keep warm. He told Wolf, “What's the problem? It’s way colder on the farm.”
“Then, why are you shivering?”
“My teeth always chatter when I’m having a good time.”
Once the recruits were lined up, Lieutenant Dieter, who had a mustache that belonged on a World War I recruiting poster said, “Boys, that’s right; you’re boys until I say you’re men. We’re going on a little run to warm up. Stay in formation. If you fall out, come back to the barracks, pack your bags and be on your way home.
“Someone will be going home to mama today. It happens every time. You can count on it. Better to scrub out now, than waste my time later on. Fall in.” With that, the cadets followed Lieutenant Dieter through the camp gate and out into the countryside.
Within minutes, they were out of sight of the camp. All that could be heard was the thudding of boots on the ground and the breathing of the cadets that grew louder with each passing mile.
Soon they were running along a country road, boarded by split wood fences and cows. Hans was running in a easy cadence next to Wolf. He said between breaths, “It didn’t mention any of this in the brochure. It’s just like back home: flat farm country, with cows and haystacks. The only thing we’re missing are the ugly farm girls.”
Wolf laughed, “Is that why you left?”
“Did I knock up a frauline? Certainly not. But I’ve had enough of this running.”
“It will make you tougher.”
Hans spit in front of him. “That won’t do me much good when my fighter plane gets shot up, and I have to bail. I just hope the damn parachutes they have around here work. By the way, if they make me fly bombers, I’m quitting.”
“You can’t quit.”
Hans adjusted his running trunks and spit again. “That wasn’t in the brochure either. And the brochure only showed airplanes that weren’t shot up. Not very truthful if you ask me.”
Wolf easily kept pace with the unit as the sweat started to pour off him. “Any more complaints?”
Churchill's Ace (Epic War Series Book 1) Page 5
