by Garry Ryan
Sharon turned to Chorny and Willy. “This is Mr. Green.”
Chorny and Willy looked at Mother’s grey hair and sparse frame.
“This will definitively get me sacked, and it might do the same for you,” Sharon said.
Mother smiled. “It had to happen sometime. What’s my job?”
Chorny and Willy looked at one another and smiled. “What’s your first name?” Willy asked.
Mother looked at Sharon. “Hubert.”
“We call him Mother,” Sharon said.
“Mother it is,” Willy said.
Chorny pointed. “Mother. You’ll have our backs.”
CHAPTER 40
[SUNDAY, APRIL 29, 1945]
“Three minutes to target,” Chorny said.
Sharon looked ahead through the Lancaster’s greenhouse canopy. She checked her altimeter: four hundred feet. She dropped the landing gear and added flap to slow the bomber down for the drop. The ground was snow-covered and the trees were grey arms against that white background. Rooftops spread out below them as they crossed over a beach. Sharon saw antiaircraft guns pointed up at them. They did not fire.
She looked ahead, saw the oval track near another beach, and touched the microphone button. “Target in sight.”
“Got it,” Willy said. “Fly straight down the middle of the track.”
Sharon applied a bit of right rudder and power. They were twenty knots above stalling speed.
“Steady on,” Willy said.
Sharon aimed down the middle of the racecourse. Hope we hit this right. If the drop is long, all of the food will end up in the water.
She felt the bomb bay doors open. The bomber lifted as the bags of food fell out.
“Food away!” Willy said.
Sharon turned toward the North Sea.
“How’d we do?” Willy asked.
Mother answered from his position in the tailgunner’s turret. “In the middle of the course. Almost dead centre.”
“Long or short?” Willy asked.
“Perhaps twenty yards long,” Mother said.
“Next one will be dead centre,” Willy said.
“I’m bushed.” Chorny gave his face a wipe with the palm of his hand. “Three trips in one day.” He looked around the Scampton mess and smiled. “I thought I was going to have a nice quiet few days of reading.”
Mother leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.
“Did you see the people watching us as we flew over Amsterdam? On the last trip, there were people waving and shouting. We were so close, I could see the smiles on some faces.” Willy grinned as he lifted his tea in a salute to the other three.
“Want to do it all over again tomorrow?” Sharon asked.
Mother lifted his head and smiled.
Chorny nodded. “Of course.”
Willy looked at the other three. “Most fun I’ve had in years.”
CHAPTER 41
[MONDAY, APRIL 30, 1945]
Sharon opened the four throttles and released the brakes. Weighed down by a full load of food, the Lancaster only accelerated gradually. It was sluggish and heavy on the controls as it lifted off. Sharon waited until they were two hundred feet off the ground before retracting the wheels and gradually streamlining the aircraft.
The pink of the rising sun was on Mother’s face when she glanced over. His grin was wide. He tapped her on the shoulder, then headed to the tailgunner’s position.
This time, the Dutch were waiting for them in force as they flew toward Valkenburg Airport. They were south of Amsterdam and nearing the city of Leiden. Sharon began her approach over the Dutch coast at four hundred feet.
“Four minutes to target,” Chorny said.
“You need to see this,” Willy said. “Come up here, Chorny. The people are waving at us! The bleeding Nazis have dragged out all of their flags, but all of the Dutch people are in the streets and parks, thanking us!” He took a breath. “Do you have the target in sight, Lacey?”
Sharon peered ahead and saw the lopsided X of Valkenburg’s runways. “Dead ahead.” She dropped the landing gear to slow the Lancaster down as much as possible. Too much speed and the food parcels will disintegrate when they hit the ground.
“Target acquired,” Willy said. “Two degrees to port.”
Sharon carefully played with the rudders to allow for the wind. The Lancaster rose up as tons of food sacks cascaded toward the intersection of the runways.
“Perfect,” Mother said.
Sharon retracted the wheels and brought the aircraft around to head home. She glanced down and saw people waving. She caught a glimpse of two people holding up a blue bedsheet like a flag. Broad smiles. Children jumping. A mother holding an infant.
Then they were over the coast and headed home to pick up another load.
Trouble arrived when she began the engine prestart checks for the third run of that day.
A hand patted her on the shoulder. She looked right into the face of Gerard d’Erlanger. Sharon blinked.
“How many months pregnant are you?” he asked.
“Four.”
He nodded. “I have to insist that you come with me.” D’Erlanger used his index finger to signal her to follow.
Sharon shook her head. “We’ve got a load of food to drop.”
“I must insist that you leave the aircraft.” D’Erlanger lifted his chin for emphasis.
“What are you going to do? Carry me out of here?” Sharon met d’Erlanger’s eyes.
He took a long breath. “I won’t leave this aircraft without you.”
Sharon pressed the microphone button. “Is the rear door closed and locked?”
“I’ll check,” Mother said.
Sharon turned to finish her checks. “I can guarantee that you’ll thank me after we land.”
D’Erlanger put his left hand on the back of the pilot’s seat.
Sharon slid open the side window. “Fuel on three!”
The mechanic on the ground stuck his finger in the air and made tiny circles. Sharon started the first engine.
“What do you want me to do?” d’Erlanger asked.
“Be another pair of eyes both inside.” She pointed at the gauges. “And outside.”
D’Erlanger nodded. He stood there, with one hand on the back of Sharon’s cushion and one hand on the edge of the cockpit, all the way across the English Channel.
Sharon spotted the waves breaking on the Dutch coast and turned to d’Erlanger. “You might want to join Willy in the nose!” D’Erlanger cupped his left ear and frowned. She pointed toward the front of the aircraft. “Nose!”
D’Erlanger nodded and made his way down to the bombardier’s position.
“Four minutes to target,” Meron said.
“You’ve got a visitor, Willy,” Sharon said.
“Confirmed,” Willy said.
Sharon concentrated on the drop and caught a glimpse of waving arms and smiling faces on the approach to the airfield.
She didn’t see d’Erlanger again until after they landed at Scampton. She stepped out the rear door of the aircraft. He was there with Mother, Chorny, and Sutherland at the bottom of the ladder. All four were smiling.
“Well, Lacey, should we call it a day?” Willy asked.
Sharon looked west. The bottom edge of the sun was touching the horizon. My last trip for a while, and I’m too tried to argue anymore. “Guess we’d better get some supper.”
CHAPTER 42
[MONDAY, MAY 8, 1945]
Sharon cleared the cobwebs from her head with a sip of Honeysuckle’s coffee. Meanwhile, Sean fiddled with the dials on the radio on the kitchen counter.
Honeysuckle asked, “Are you feeling like you’ve caught up on your sleep yet?”
Sharon smiled and set the cup down. “I must have been more tired than I thought. I haven’t lifted a finger since I got back. You must think I’m a lout.”
Sharon felt a brushing against the inside of her belly. She sat up and put her hand to her nav
el.
“The little one’s kicking?” Honeysuckle asked.
“Is that what it is?” Sharon took Honeysuckle’s hand and placed it on her belly.
They spent the next few minutes chasing a moving child who kept them playing a mime routine around Sharon’s navel.
Honeysuckle’s eyes got wide and she smiled. “Yes, that’s what it is!”
Sean said, “I’m turning up the radio.”
Honeysuckle looked out the door as if waiting for someone to knock or walk through. Sharon stood up and put her arm around her mother-in-law’s shoulder.
The BBC radio announcer began to speak:
THE PRIME MINISTER, WINSTON CHURCHILL, HAS OFFICIALLY ANNOUNCED
THE END OF THE WAR WITH GERMANY.
IN A MESSAGE BROADCAST TO THE NATION FROM THE CABINET ROOM AT
NUMBER 10, HE SAID THE CEASEFIRE HAD BEEN SIGNED AT 0241 YESTERDAY
AT THE AMERICAN ADVANCE HEADQUARTERS IN RHEIMS.
HUGE CROWDS, MANY DRESSED IN RED, WHITE, AND BLUE, GATHERED
OUTSIDE BUCKINGHAM PALACE IN LONDON AND CHEERED AS THE KING,
QUEEN, AND TWO PRINCESSES CAME OUT ONTO THE BALCONY.
EARLIER, TENS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE LISTENED INTENTLY AS THE KING’S
SPEECH WAS RELAYED BY LOUDSPEAKER TO THOSE GATHERED IN TRAFALGAR
SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT SQUARE.
“I wonder when we’ll see Michael, Linda, and Milton?” Honeysuckle asked.
Sean said, “Shh! There’s more.”
Sharon sipped her coffee. She felt that familiar itch. The yearning to be flying again. For a moment, she heard the hum of an aircraft engine. Then the baby kicked. Will it be a boy or a girl?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Bruce: for caring for us all these years, thank you. And thank you to Shameem.
Again, thanks to Tony Bidulka and Wayne Gunn.
Mary S, Alex K, and Sebi W, the Wednesday writing group, thanks for suggestions and feedback.
E.U. Ryan, thank you for getting me started on reading the stories of Douglas Bader, Ginger Lacey, Pierre Clostermann, Willy McKnight, Pat Pattle, Pauline Gower, Lilya Litvyak, Katya Budanova, George Beurling, Pappy Boyington, Jackie Cochran, Alfred Anderson, etc.
Thank you to The Canadian Aviation and Space Museum, The Alberta Aviation Museum, The Aero Space Museum of Calgary, and The Calgary Museum of the Regiments.
Paul, Matt, Natalie, Tiiu, and Jenna: thanks for all that you do at NeWest Press and Kisscut Design.
Thanks to creative writers at Nickle, Bowness, Lord Beaverbrook, Alternative, Forest Lawn, and Queen Elizabeth.
Thank you to Stephen of Sage Innovations (www.garryryan.ca).
Thank you to the people who run indepedent bookstores like Pages Books and Owl’s Nest Books in Calgary.
Sharon, Karma, Luke, Ben, Meredith, Indiana and Ella. What’s next?
In 2004, NeWest Press published Garry Ryan’s first Detective Lane novel, Queen’s Park. The second, The Lucky Elephant Restaurant, won a 2007 Lambda Literary Award. NeWest has since published four more titles in the series: A Hummingbird Dance, Smoked, Malabarista and Foxed. In 2009, Ryan was awarded Calgary’s Freedom of Expression Award. In 2012 he began a second series with the historical fiction novel Blackbirds, also published by NeWest Press.
