Sojourners of the Sky (10 page)

Twelve

“L
ynn Helms was a knockout,” said John, resuming his conversation from earlier with Liesel. “She had all the right curves in all the right places, topped off with long, curly black hair. Her olive colored skin gave the appearance that she was permanently tanned. And most remarkable of all: she was almost as smart as me. When we were together on campus, most people wouldn’t even bother trying to join in on the conversation because our banter was usually too far above their heads.” He paused, then continued. “I finally managed to land a date with her, and I thought it went pretty well. I guess I didn’t realize she didn’t feel the same.

Oddly enough, Bill Pratt, my best friend at the time, and I were born in the same month and year: October 1932. We lived on the same street and played on all the same teams, though Bill was always much lower on the team roster than I. He never said it in words, but I knew he lusted after Lynn every bit as much as I did. I’m sure he knew that she was much too far out of his league so he never even bothered asking her out. I knew he was jealous, but he never complained. When I went off to Penn State University, Lynn and I wrote nearly every day. But when I came home for Christmas break after my first semester, I sensed there was a distance between us.

Bill Pratt attended a local college and we wrote every few weeks or so. I still considered him my best friend. I had no knowledge that Bill and my best girl had started dating. Friends told me later that it wasn’t serious at first. I mean, more often than not they would simply bump into each other at a friend’s party or at Fuzzy’s malt shop on Spruce Street in downtown Scranton. I was told they each considered the other to be nothing more than a good friend.

In my sophomore year in the fall of 1952, I was living in State College, Pennsylvania. I don’t know, but living there made me feel like I was out of my element. I didn’t know anyone and nearly everything about the small town seemed strange. I guess I’d become a fish out of water.

I began to notice that with each passing month, letters from home became fewer and fewer. I assumed Lynn was busy so I didn’t let it bother me. Then one day a letter arrived from Lynn announcing that she and Bill were going steady. The news was devastating. I simply could not believe that my pal since childhood had the nerve to steal my girl away. I was furious. I planned to beat Bill to a pulp the next time I saw him. But over time, I slowly came to realize that my relationship with Lynn had always been one-sided. I realized that Lynn’s letters never really conveyed anything other than friendship. Eventually, I forgave Lynn, but I could never allow myself to absolve Bill of his transgression.

I tossed Bill’s unopened letters away, and decided that it would be best if I avoided him altogether. Looking back, I’d have to say that this was the beginning of my downfall. I couldn’t concentrate, and my grades took a nose dive. It didn’t take long before I was on academic probation. A few weeks later, the coach was forced to boot me off the football team. That’s when I realized that the perfect life I’d been leading was over. I was never again to be the envy of everyone in town. I was forced to watch as my future evaporated away, drifting off with the frigid Pennsylvania winter wind.

It all became crystal clear: my best years were behind me. What else could I think? It’s an old story, and I know I’m not the only one this sort of thing has happened to. But unfortunately for me, it became my story. It was a difficult truth to swallow. So, with a war raging in Korea, and with nothing to lose, I quit college and enlisted in the Air Force. I needed an escape.

I didn’t know it then, but my ex-friend Bill Pratt, who was probably doing much better in school than I, was falling ever more deeply in love with Lynn. But for some reason, he too left college and enlisted in the Marines. I heard he was color blind or something and got rejected for pilot training. They shipped him off to Korea soon afterwards. My path, however, turned out to be quite different than Bill’s.

Unfortunately for me, I drew the short straw when it came to flight instructors. I should have seen it as an omen. For initial training, I was assigned a man who considered it his sworn duty to wash out as many young airmen as possible. If someone proved to be too competent to fail, he made their lives hell.

Red-haired and with a face full of freckles, the thin yet muscular Bucky Stemphoski very much enjoyed his position of power. He’d grown up in an orphanage and subconsciously took out all of his frustrations on his students.

Bucky was only vaguely aware that the other instructors referred to him as “Slab” behind his back. It was a name they believed aptly described the angry pilot because he was born with a large flat spot on the top of his head. They’d often rib Bucky that he would only pass a student if they could land an airplane on the back of his skull and then get it to stop before it reached his bushy eyebrows.

As fate would have it, I got assigned to fly with Bucky. I can only guess, but I imagine he was going through a particularly rough time when I reported for duty. From the first day, Bucky told me that I had no chance of making it through. The often irritated instructor repeatedly did things during training that were not part of the lesson plan, meant solely to scare the wits out of me.

One time, while practicing a nighttime cross country flight, Bucky turned the fuel valve off. The engine sputtered and quit. Surrounded by darkness, I was unsure of what to do first. The ten second delay sent Bucky off into a tirade, screaming nonstop until I finally figured out the problem. What the wayward instructor failed to realize was that his frightful antics actually forced me to become a better pilot.

Flying with a half-crazed instructor is where I learned how to survive in an unforgiving environment. I discovered how to trust my gut and not over-think a situation. My piloting skills were developed there. Skills that I knew might one day save lives,” said John.

“Like tonight, for example,” observed Liesel.

John didn’t reply, he simply smiled and looked deeply into Liesel’s eyes.

“Well, I somehow managed to make it through flight training, but Bucky’s written reports of my performance kept me stateside and out of the action. To make matters worse, I was assigned to non-flying jobs at various bases around the country. I was being penalized for nothing. I had to sit and read about my classmates who went on to action and glory. My mates got to fly the newest fighters through Mig Alley, while I begged, borrowed and stole flight time in whatever leftover World War II airplane was sitting around. I knew the airlines wouldn’t hire a pilot who didn’t have a bunch of flight hours, and with my sights set on Pan Am, I had to work much harder than most.”

He paused briefly. “Liesel, for some reason the world has been conspiring against me, and there is nothing I can do about it.”

“I think it’s strange that you and Charles never talk about Bill and your childhood,” said Liesel.

“Like I said, I think he knows I’m sensitive about it,” said John.

“What’s Bill doing now?” asked Liesel.

“As far as I know, he got some flight training after the war and flies for Northwest Orient now. I’m sure one of his old Marine buddies, and probably even his dad, put in good recommendations for him. I’ll bet all he had to do was walk through the front door.”

“From what I’ve heard, John, no one simply walks through the door to an airline job,” said Liesel.

“Yeah, maybe. But some definitely have an easier time than others.”

“I think it may just seem that way. Everyone has their own story to tell, John.”

“What about you? What’s your story?” asked John.

Liesel told John her life story. She’d grown up in a small town south of Heidelberg, Germany with an American father and German mother. Her father was one of the Army officers put in charge of rebuilding their town after World War II ended. He fell in love with Liesel’s mom and her country. They married and made their life there.

John had wondered why Liesel spoke impeccable English, with only a slight hint of a German accent. The more she talked, the more John forgot about everything else in his life. He loved watching her lips move as she spoke and how her blond hair occasionally brushed across her face. He smiled when she pronounced certain words, finding it both sexy and endearing.

Liesel felt much the same way about John, which is why she decided to tell him almost everything.

“I usually keep to myself on layovers, but I think I should tell you right now that Charles and I had a very brief fling,” said Liesel.

“You and Charles? Really? Charles is married. I’ve known his wife for most of my life,” said John, clearly taken aback.

“John, don’t be naive. You know how it is on layovers sometimes. You’re far from home and lonely, especially over the holidays.”

“Yeah, but Charles? That’s hard to believe,” said John, still trying to process such an incredible revelation.

“It didn’t last long and we were never intimate,” she said. It was a lie, of course. Liesel had in fact been intimate with Charles on two separate occasions, but judging by the way John took the initial news, she doubted he would understand. She sometimes forgot that Americans tended to be more prudish than the Europeans. She’d long considered that attitude a perfect example of American hypocrisy: Claiming a holier-than-thou attitude publicly, while drinking and carousing behind closed doors.

“Oh, well that’s different,” said John in a noticeably relieved tone.

Liesel wanted to tell John more, but knew better than to go any further. She liked him and wanted to get to know him better. In the back of her mind, she had a notion that he was the one. Liesel knew that any concerns she had about her brief affair with Charles were better left unsaid.

The two talked for most of John’s one hour break, with John falling deeper in love with each passing minute. Something in the back of his mind kept telling him to probe a little bit further into Charles’s and Liesel’s past, but each time it came up, his conscious mind brushed it aside.

“I suppose it’s almost time to go back up front, Liesel. Wish me luck,” said John.

“You’ll be fine, John. Don’t worry,” said Liesel.

There was an awkward moment that Liesel fixed when she leaned over and kissed John on the lips. It was a long and passionate kiss that neither wanted to end. On some level, they each knew the kiss sealed the beginning of a long and loving relationship.

John looked into Liesel’s eyes and said, “That was wonderful.”

“Yes, it was,” she replied, while holding her right hand over her heart.

“OK, well, I’d better make a stop before going forward. It might be a long night,” said John with a wry smile. He knew inside that no matter what happened it wouldn’t really matter because he was in love with the person he was meant to be with.

John knocked on the lav door and then turned the knob when there was no reply. He opened the door and was stunned to see a half-naked man roll out of the lav and onto the floor. The man was clearly deceased. He felt a flash of searing heat pass through him. Instantly, John wondered if whatever killed the man would somehow be blamed on him.

*

Ed Vito busily consulted the star charts on his desk in order to calculate flight forty-two’s position. He looked up into the dimmed cockpit light to see G.R. climbing from his bunk. “Did my work light awaken you?” he asked.

“No, not at all. I have to get up and tap my kidney,” said G.R.

“Oh, I hear that,” replied Ed.

“I swear, a BB sized drop of urine can feel like a gallon when you’re trying to sleep,” said G.R.

“No truer words have ever been spoken by any man over forty,” joked Ed.

Just as G.R. grabbed the door to exit, Lars walked to the aft part of the cockpit and asked, “G.R. do you have a second?”

“I have only a second. What do you need?” he asked.

“Sonny wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say. I’m afraid this could get ugly,” said Lars.

“Where is this guy sitting?” asked G.R.

“He’s in row ten; you can’t miss him. He’s the one guy that looks like he doesn’t belong.”

“All right, perhaps my right bicep and I can have a little talk with this troublesome hooligan,” said G.R., while flexing his right arm and displaying his huge muscles.

“Thanks, G.R., I really appreciate it. If I manage to get out of this, I’ll owe you one.”

“You’ll owe me more than one,” suggested G.R. “I have a feeling I’m going to have to defend you for that stupid trick you pulled back there with the number four prop. Yeah, maybe you slipped, but I have a feeling that it was really a message intended for your friend, Sonny.”

Lars watched as G.R. left the cockpit, staring open-mouthed at the man.
How
, he wondered,
did he know? I thought he was sleeping. Can G.R. feel the systems of a DC6 in his bones, even as he lay on his back fast asleep? Yeah, I’m gonna owe this guy for sure.

“Lars, come forward if you would, please,” ordered Charles.

“Yes, sir,” said Lars as he unfolded the retractable stool to sit between the two pilots.

“Asa, this will involve you, too. Now, I know that you men are new to a Pan Am cockpit. And I realize that John didn’t actually cause the problem with the propeller. In fact, his quick action probably saved the day, but that’s not the point I am trying to make with him. First of all, Asa, it’s the job of both pilots to monitor the radios, no matter how difficult or annoying that may be. It’s especially important when getting a clearance. Asa, you do see the potential for catastrophe, don’t you?” asked Charles.