Fire in the Sky

by Candice Ransom

  “Who knows?” Mrs. Green said. “But I worry about my sister and her family. Over there with that madman.” Stenny’s mother talked about Hitler as if the German leader were a crazy neighbor.

  On top of the radio was a photograph in a silver frame—Stenny’s German relatives. His Aunt Gerda and Uncle Frederick lived in Berlin. Stenny had a cousin, Franz, whom he had never met. He and Franz were the same age, nine. His mother often urged him to write to his German cousin. But Stenny wasn’t really interested. Besides, he had more immediate worries.

  He wondered if he could be sick tomorrow, so he could stay home from school. That way, the others would think he was touring the airship. As he listened to the serial Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons, he glanced over at the photograph again. In the warm May evening Stenny shivered, but he didn’t know why.

  No Kind

  of Hero

  The next morning, Stenny lingered in bed. When his mother came in for the third time, he told her he didn’t feel well. Mrs. Green felt his forehead. “You don’t feel hot. Does your stomach hurt?”

  “Yes,” Stenny said. Then he realized his mother might give him a dose of cod-liver oil. “No,” he said quickly. “I mean, everything kind of hurts.”

  After taking his temperature, Stenny’s mother pronounced him well enough to go to school. Stenny reluctantly got dressed. Whenever he needed to stay home sick, it never worked. Now all the kids would know he wasn’t taking a tour of the Hindenburg.

  “Did the Hindenburg land?” Stenny asked over his morning bowl of Wheaties. He knew the airship always docked at six in the morning or six in the evening. This way, the people in the civilian landing crew weren’t called away from their regular jobs at all hours.

  “It’s late,” his mother replied. “Now it’s supposed to come in tonight.”

  Stenny’s heart leaped with hope. It was safe to go to school! Nobody would expect him to be touring an airship that hadn’t arrived yet. “Why is it late?” he wondered aloud.

  “Something about strong head winds, bad weather over the Atlantic.” His mother poured him a glass of juice. “It rained last night and put out that fire, thank heavens.” Stenny was glad about that, too. Now the Hindenburg could land safely.

  When he finished his breakfast, Stenny gathered up his schoolbooks and rode his bike to school. Buzzie Martinelli was standing by the bike rack. As usual, other boys from their class were gathered around him. “Hey, Stenwood,” Buzzie said. “The Hindenburg is late. What about your tour?”

  Buzzie had offered him a perfect excuse. Stenny could say he couldn’t take the tour because the Hindenburg was late. Then Stenny saw Buzzie’s fat marble sack dangling from his belt. He bet Buzzie had told all the kids how he had beat Stenny at marbles yesterday.

  “I’m still going,” Stenny heard himself say. “I’m just going tonight instead of this morning.”

  Frank Grafius’s eyes narrowed with disbelief. “Says who, the king of England? You’re going on a tour every time the Hindenburg comes in.”

  “I’m telling the truth,” Stenny said.

  “Prove it,” demanded Bill Little.

  “Yeah, prove it,” Buzzie echoed. “Let’s see your pass.”

  “My brother has it,” Stenny said quickly. A few seconds ago he felt safe. Now he was caught in his fib again.

  “If Michael can get you a pass, he can get one for me,” Buzzie said. “I want to go, too.”

  Stenny took off his glasses and polished the lenses on his shirt. “The invitation is only for me,” he said nervously.

  “Get one for me, too. You’re always bragging about the pull you have at the air station.”

  “I really don’t think—” Stenny began.

  “I’ll give you back all the marbles I won from you,” Buzzie offered. “I’ll even give you my lucky shooter.” A stunned silence followed this statement. Buzzie Martinelli was the undisputed marble champion of the fourth grade. His peppermint-swirled shooter was famous. No one in his right mind would turn him down.

  Stenny drew in a breath. He couldn’t get Buzzie an invitation. He didn’t have one himself. Now he would have to admit he had made up the whole tour business. That was worse than losing to Buzzie Martinelli.

  Just then the bell rang. The students rushed through the front door. In his classroom, Stenny sank into his seat, grateful he wouldn’t have to say anything more about the tour for a while.

  After the flag salute and roll call, the class began their history lesson. Mrs. Hoffmyer’s fourth graders were working on reports. Stenny had chosen to do his report on George Washington. He had heard a story about how young George Washington had chopped down a cherry tree. When George’s father demanded to know who had cut down the tree, George had answered, “I cannot tell a lie. I did it.”

  Heavyhearted, Stenny doodled zeppelins in his notebook. Even as a little boy, George Washington had been brave. He had gone on to be the father of his country. Somehow courage seemed to come easy to everyone but Stenny.

  When the last bell of the day rang, Stenny was the first out the door. He grabbed his bike from the rack. He wanted to get away before Buzzie or any of the others could ask about going on the tour. But he couldn’t outride Buzzie Martinelli.

  “Stenny! Wait up!” Buzzie called. He easily caught up with Stenny.

  At the drugstore on the corner, Stenny stopped and parked his bike. Maybe he could ditch Buzzie here. “I want to go in here a minute,” he said.

  They stepped into the cool gloom of the drugstore. Stenny checked the wooden rack of newspapers and magazines, hoping some new funny books had come in. The store radio was tuned to the baseball game. The Brooklyn Dodgers were playing the Pittsburgh Pirates this afternoon.

  “I wonder who’s winning,” Buzzie said. He was a Dodgers fan.

  The sportscaster broke off his description of the game to announce that the Hindenburg was sailing over Ebbets Field. The spectators and both teams were gazing at the magnificent sight.

  “The Hindenburg is in New York,” Stenny said. “It’ll be here soon.”

  “And you’ll get to go on it.” Buzzie turned to Stenny with appealing eyes. “Ask your brother if I can come, too. Please.”

  Stenny was amazed that brave Buzzie Martinelli, marble champ and fearless bike rider, was suddenly begging him. “I’ll ask,” he replied weakly.

  Uncomfortable with his fibs, Stenny left the drugstore. A real hero didn’t make up stories, he thought morosely. But then, he wasn’t any kind of hero.

  Dinner in Stenny’s house was served at five-thirty on the dot. Mr. Green wanted to be through eating by the time the news came on. Stenny could barely eat. It had rained twice since he had gotten home from school— drenching downpours. The sky threatened more rain. “Stenny, is your stomach still bothering you?” his mother wanted to know.

  “I’m just not very hungry.” He put down his fork. “May I be excused? I want to go out and play.”

  “Be home early,” his mother said. “It’s a school night.”

  “And don’t go near the air station,” Stenny’s father cautioned. “You know the rules.” Stenny replied with a nod. He knew the rules. Spectators only got in the way when the airship was landing. Michael had complained often enough.

  Outside, Stenny picked up his bike from the driveway. The sky was ominously black. Lightning darted through the swollen clouds. He glanced back at the house. By now, his parents would be settling in front of the radio to listen to the news. Stenny knew that if his mother got a look at the sky, she’d make him go in. But the Naval Air Station drew him like a magnet. He had to go see the Hindenburg land, even if it meant getting in trouble. He pointed his bike toward the landing field and pedaled as hard as he could.

  When Stenny was halfway down the road, the skies opened. It was as if someone had overturned a washtub. Soaked, Stenny struggled to keep his bike off the muddy shoulder. He thought about turning around and going home. Jack Armstrong wouldn’t be put off by a little rain, Stenny tol
d himself, and kept pedaling.

  It had stopped raining by the time he reached the main gate of the Naval Air Station. He hadn’t heard the whistle calling the ground crew to their stations. And the airship wasn’t looming over the field. He wasn’t too late to see it land after all. Stenny straddled his bike. In front of him was a large sign that read:

  ON ACCOUNT OF BRIEF STAY

  AIRSHIP HINDENBURG

  AT THIS PORT

  THE PUBLIC CANNOT BE PERMITTED

  AT THE MOORING LOCATION

  OR ABOARD SHIP.

  The sign didn’t bother him. The very air seemed charged with electric excitement. The Hindenburg was on its way.

  Fire in

  the Sky

  Stenny turned away from the sign. Cars were parked along the roadway, filled with people who had come to see the airship land or to pick up passengers. It was very humid. Stenny felt as if he were breathing through a wet washrag. He watched a woman who was towing three children hurry to her car. They were all soaked from the downpour. Once the four wet people were inside the car, the windows immediately steamed up.

  Leaving his bike on the side of the muddy road, Stenny walked to the front gate. He wondered how he would get inside. The guard at the gate was busy talking to some people. Stenny sidled up to the edge of the group. There were two men and a woman, and two teenaged girls. Stenny that no one would notice a nine-year-old boy.

  “When is the airship going to land?” one of the men asked the guard, identifying himself as a reporter.

  “I can’t answer that, sir,” the guard replied. “The men have been called to their stations twice. Twice the landing has been delayed.”

  “Can we go inside before it pours again?” the woman wanted to know. She seemed impatient. The guard busily checked papers, then nodded. The woman and the two men passed through the gate, heading for a shed at the edge of the landing field. Stenny knew that the shed was where reporters and radio newspeople waited. The landing of the Hindenburg was always an important event.

  The girls moved up. Stenny stood a little behind them, his fingers crossed.“May I help you?” the guard inquired.

  One of the girls told him they had driven down from Northfield to meet a couple of crew members. She named Franz Herzog, a navigator, and Franz Eichelmann, a radio operator. Stenny thought about his German cousin. A lot of boys in Germany were named Franz, it seemed.

  The guard shook his head. “I’m sorry, ladies. But I can’t—”

  The other girl spoke up quickly. They had wired the Hindenburg earlier and they really needed to get inside the gate. It began to rain again. Not a downpour as before, but a light drizzle. The guard waved the girls through.

  He never noticed Stenny slipping past. Once through the gate, Stenny followed the girls toward the shed.

  Suddenly a steam whistle blew. Men streamed out of the hangar and from beneath the mooring mast, where they had taken shelter from the passing squalls. The mooring mast was a 75-foot-high structure that would hold the Hindenburg in place when it arrived. The seamen’s white shirts were pasted to their backs with rain. Some of the civilians grumbled about getting wet all over again. Stenny ran excitedly to the shed. The airship was about to land!

  Reporters and photographers were clustered inside the open doorway of the shed. A radio commentator gave instructions to his soundman. On the field, newsreelmen squatted on top of their cars, ready to film the event. Stenny edged behind the reporters. No one paid any attention to him. Several people were busy scribbling in their notebooks. The man next to Stenny muttered, “I hope this is it this time.”

  “The airship passed over the field,” said another. “They should have landed then and gotten it over with.”

  The first man shook his head. “Not in this weather. They can’t afford to take chances.”

  Stenny peered out across the sandy landing field to mooring circle number one. It was such a thrilling sight. The mooring mast had been pulled by tractor to a spot inside the circle, a couple of hundred feet from the hangar. A green light blinked atop the hanger roof. The light flashed the letter L in Morse code. Radio operators aboard the airship were in constant contact with the station. Once the operators were close enough to see the blinking light, they would reel in the airship’s antennae.

  The ground crew was in position. Aiding the 92 navy men stationed at the base, an additional crew of nearly 140 civilians swelled the ranks, although all were not needed on every landing. Buzzie’s father was one of the civilian line handlers. A line handler’s job was to grab one of the cables, or lines, dropped from the dirigible and to help pull in the airship and position it next to the mooring mast. Stenny’s brother was a line handler, too. One day he would navigate airships, not dock them.

  “My brother’s out there!” Stenny said proudly.

  “Which one is he?” asked one of the reporters.

  Stenny squinted at the men assembled in two rows along the mooring field. From where he stood, all the uniformed men looked alike. “I can’t really tell from here,” he said. “But he’s in the forward landing lines group.”

  The reporter nodded. “It takes a lot of men to haul in that monster.”

  Stenny knew exactly. “Sixty-eight men handle the forward lines. And another forty-six to handle the stern lines.”

  The man stared at him, clearly impressed. “How do you know so much?”

  “I just do.”

  Bringing down an airship as big as the Hindenburg was a complicated procedure. When Stenny had first watched the airship land a year ago, from behind the fence, he’d thought it would land on the ground, like an airplane. But the ship remained in the air, hovering just above the ground, and the nose of the floating zeppelin was attached to the towerlike mooring mast. Two men stood at the top of the mooring mast. Their job was to grab the steel cable as it was wound out of the ship’s nose and connect the cable to the mast. Then the airship was reeled in.

  The lower tail fin, at the rear of the airship, was then attached to a tail-lock car. This wheeled car sat on a railroad track that circled the mast. The car could roll along the track, supporting the end of the Hindenburg as it shifted in the wind. A set of rolling stairs pushed up to the passenger deck allowed the passengers to descend.

  “It’s coming!” someone cried. Reporters surged onto the field. Newsreelmen trained their cameras on the horizon and began cranking.

  From the west, the magnificent zeppelin sailed into view, nosing through the twilight. Crossing the south fence, the ship moved in a graceful arc, until it hovered over the landing field. The spectators were silent. Everyone was in awe of the enormous airship, sailing overhead like a stately silver cloud. An arrow of sunlight struck the control car window, a ray of gold among the silver.

  Stenny’s heart lifted with joy. Was there ever a sight to match this? More than anything, he wanted to fly a dirigible. Piloting a zeppelin must be the most exhilarating feeling in the world.

  The airship drifted forward and down. Stenny heard the huge propellers back up. The ship turned again, and a shower of water pelted from the stern tanks. Stenny knew that the water acted as ballast, a weight that helped control the movement of the dirigible. The captain was dumping ballast to level the ship.

  A radio commentator began recording. “Here it comes, ladies and gentlemen, and what a sight it is, a thrilling one, a marvelous sight. It is coming down out of the sky pointed toward us, and toward the mooring mast. The mighty diesel motors roar, the propellers biting into the air. No one wonders that this great floating palace can travel through the air at such a speed with these powerful motors behind it.”

  Stenny didn’t think the Hindenburg looked like a palace. It was more like a giant fish, a silvery whale plowing majestically through an ocean in the sky.

  Lines began to drop from the nose of the airship. The idling engines were shut down. First, the starboard lines, the ones on the right, coiled onto the sand beneath the mooring mast. The port, or left, lines fell next
. Navy men scuttled to grab the lines. They worked quickly to secure the airship.

  Stenny noticed the newsreelmen pointing their cameras at the ground crew. The wind suddenly rose, smacking the airship broadside. The line handlers dug their heels into the wet sand. Unpredictable winds often made it difficult to tether the great ship.

  Stenny had never seen the Hindenburg so close. He had always observed it from beyond the fence. He stared at the ship, memorizing its graceful lines. His glance lingered on the tail fins. Suddenly he knew what detail was missing from his model airship. Painted on both the upper and lower tail fins was a crooked cross called a swastika. The cross represented Hitler’s new government, the Third Reich. The Hindenburg was flying the flag of Nazi Germany.

  A chill rippled down Stenny’s backbone. Why had he never seen the swastika on all the photographs of the Hindenburg? The flag had always been there. He had simply never noticed it until now.

  He noticed something else, a strange orange glow just forward of the upper fin. The pinkish orange glow brightened, lighting the interior of the ship like a Japanese lantern. Stenny could see the intricate framework of girders clearly, as if the ship were an egg held up to a candle. Then, with a roaring whoosh, the glow exploded into a fireball that lit the sky.

  The End of

  the World

  Flames quickly engulfed the airship. Stenny had never realized the rocket power of hydrogen until now. The pockets of gas inside the airship were feeding the fire at an alarming speed. Bits of burning linen parachuted to earth. Molten aluminum dripped like an ice-cream cone. It all happened so quickly no one had time to react. It was like the end of the world.

  Someone near the mooring mast yelled, “Run for your lives!” The line handlers scattered as the huge airship listed downward, tail first.

  The radio newsman sobbed hysterically into his microphone, “It’s burst into flames! Get this, Charlie,” he ordered his cameraman. “Get out of the way, please, oh my, this is terrible, oh my, get out of the way, please! It’s burning, bursting into flames and is falling....this is one of the worst catastrophes in the world! It’s a terrific sight....oh, the humanity and all the passengers!”