Sojourners of the Sky (17 page)

With his peripheral vision, Charles could see what his copilot was doing, but did not object. Pilots, he knew, were willing to sacrifice an airplane to keep everyone safe, but would only do so if necessary. He understood that his copilot was only doing what was expected of him--eliminating the excess power that he’d concluded was not needed.

When the main wheels finally broke free of the Earth, the left wing dropped sharply, causing Lars to inhale sharply out of fear the wingtip would strike the ground.

Charles immediately banked the aircraft to correct the situation, but the brutal wind exacerbated his control input, forcing the airplane to roll hard to the right. Suddenly, the airplane began pitching and rolling as if it had a mind of its own! The captain struggled unrelentingly to right his ship, but the DC6 would not hear of it. At one point, Charles mused to himself that he was just a passenger who was along for the ride. For safety’s sake, he told himself to wait a little longer than normal to call, “Gear up.”

At two hundred feet in the air, the airplane rolled hard to the left. It took the strength of both pilots to roll the airplane upright, using both ailerons and rudder. For a moment, it looked like the beaten up DC6 wanted to surrender to the elements. Charles muttered under his breath, “Oh no you don’t, not today!”

The turbulence was unrelenting. Both pilots struggled with the controls, knowing they were not in complete control. The combination of the wind speed and low temperature gave the DC6 an unheard of eight thousand feet per minute climb rate. In contrast, on a normal day with a full load the DC6 was lucky if it could climb one thousand feet per minute.

The wind turned out to be a Godsend because it didn’t take long for the airplane to reach smoother air. The moment things calmed down, everyone on board breathed a sigh of relief.

Charles banked the airplane toward England and continued to climb. Eventually, the airplane broke out on top of the clouds and into the moonlight. Once in the clear, the ride became silky smooth. Off to the south, Charles could see the ink-black water beneath the breaks in the shiny white clouds. He noticed some ground lights and realized right away that he was seeing Vestmannaeyjar, a small island off the southern coast of Iceland. Charles engaged the autopilot and said, “Whew, I’m glad that one is behind us.”

“Nice job, captain. That was a handful,” said John.

“It certainly was. Thank you for your help back there,” said Charles. Then a moment later, he added, “John, go ahead and switch over to Iceland Radio to confirm our clearance. I don’t feel like messing with Keflavik. I think I’ve had enough of them for one day.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” replied John.

“It looks pretty clear ahead, John, so I doubt we’ll have any trouble staying visual while you talk to them. But to be safe,” advised Charles, “I’m going to take us a little further to the south before turning on course. I want to be sure we’ll clear the mountains off to the east.”

“Sounds good,” said John.

With the tricky departure behind them, the flight crew began to relax. Each looked forward to climbing into a nice comfortable bed at their layover hotel and getting some much needed rest. In the back of their minds, they knew there would be at least a half-dozen prostitutes in the lobby awaiting their arrival. If nothing else, their presence often served to make the check-in process jovial and interesting. This night, however, none of the flight crew members, including G.R., looked forward to fighting off the always pretty, but sometimes aggressive women.

Shortly after their clearance was confirmed, Charles slid his seat back and watched the coastline pass beneath them. He was ready for the night to be over.

Knowing they were safely out over the water, John exhaled, pleased that he’d been there for his captain. He hoped he’d get another chance to prove himself before they landed in London.

The guardedly relaxed copilot was busy tuning the radios when he heard Lars state in a slightly elevated tone, “Captain, the oil temp on engine number one is approaching red line.”

“What?” asked Charles as he studied the gauge for himself.

“It’s getting hot. I think we’re going to have to shut it down,” observed Lars.

“Yes, perhaps,” said Charles.

A few minutes passed, during which time Charles, John and Lars silently hoped the problem would go away. Once it became clear that there was no other choice, Charles said with a deep sigh, “OK, Lars, shut down and feather number one.”

Lars pulled the mixture control to shut off the fuel to the number one engine. He then watched as the propeller RPM decreased, ready to push the feathering button if the propeller did not auto-feather. Once assured the prop did indeed feather itself, meaning the blades had streamlined themselves with the wind to reduce drag, Lars began securing the engine. He scanned the gauges as he worked and then exclaimed, “Captain, number two engine oil temp is now above red line and number three is rising rapidly! I think we’re going to have to shut them both down!”

Eighteen

“N
o, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jack,” said Bill.

“Grandpa, think about it,” argued Jack. “If things start breaking, it would be better if you had someone there to help out.”

The time had arrived for their first flight in the Cessna. Young Jack hadn’t been able to sleep for two nights in anticipation. He’d sat up in bed, staring at the walls, practicing what he would say. He wasn’t sure his grandfather would buy-off on the idea of him tagging along.

Bill didn’t think it was safe to have anyone on board with him in the event something went wrong, but his grandson was insistent. Bill smiled, knowing he’d flown airplanes all over the world and could certainly handle whatever a two seat trainer could dish out. His concerns about the handling characteristics of the feather-light airplane were put to rest after performing a few high speed taxi-runs. Bill had allowed the tiny Cessna to lift free of the ground a couple of times in order to test the controls. Two feet in the air was all it took to tell him what he needed to know.

But, in spite of his new-found comfort level and reluctance to bring a copilot along, he saw an opportunity to teach his students about exercising judgment and managing risk. “Yes, OK, that makes sense,” said Bill, after a few moments of tossing it around in his mind. “You’re absolutely right, Jack. The key to success in this endeavor is safety.”

Jack beamed, surprised that he was able to talk his grandfather into it. Then a moment later he asked, “What’s endeavor mean?”

“What about you, Lucy?” asked Bill. “Do you guys want to toss a coin or something?”

“Uh, no, Grandpa. I think I’ll stay here on the ground until I know all the bugs are out of it,” said Lucy.

The startup and taxi out were agonizingly slow for Jack. He sat in the left seat itching to go, but his grandfather refused to be rushed as he checked and rechecked everything. Then just when Jack thought they were going to takeoff, his grandfather performed yet another check.

After an eternity for his grandson, Bill asked, “OK, Jack, are you all set?”

“Let’s do it, Grandpa,” he said with uninhibited excitement.

Bill added full takeoff power, but at the same time he held the brakes with all of his might. He was giving the little Continental engine one more opportunity to hiccup before they left the ground. The airplane shook wildly, as if it too wanted to get the show on the road. When Bill finally released the brakes, the red and white Cessna lunged forward.

The grass runway felt bumpy. Jack glanced out his side window and noticed that the left landing gear was bouncing to and fro. It jostled around so much, he wondered if they’d blown a tire. He looked around and saw the outline of trees everywhere. Everything seemed a blur.

The noise in the cockpit was louder than Jack had anticipated. He looked at his grandfather’s face for reassurance that all was normal. He then tried to focus on the instrument panel, but the faster the airplane went the more disorienting it all became. Things were happening much too rapidly for Jack to take in. It was his first airplane ride, and though he was primed to absorb as much as possible, a myriad of sights and sounds clamored for his attention. His mind was simply unable to process it all.

When his grandfather finally pulled the nose up to lift-off, the airplane seemed to go straight up. Jack instinctively covered his mouth, fearing he would get a second look at his lunch. At first, the little airplane seemed unstable, bobbing and weaving as it moved through the air. It took a little while for Jack to get used to the strange sensations.

The plan was to fly one square pattern around the runway at two thousand feet and then come right back down for landing. Once they were safely on the ground, they would shut ‘626 down and give it a good going over before trying it again.

As the airplane passed over Fords Pond, Jack looked down at the fishermen on the lake and the cars driving along the road in front of his grandfather’s farm. Everything looked strange. The people were the size of ants. Since it was the first time he’d viewed the Earth from two thousand feet up, Jack spent most of their ten minute flight gazing at the strange world around him. Part of him was frightened; though he didn’t dare admit it, not even to himself.

Jack’s grandfather lined the Cessna up on final approach, but Jack’s eyes could not pick out the runway. Everything on the ground looked the same. He asked his grandfather three times where it was, and was forced to look back and forth between the tip of his instructor’s finger and the strange world outside, until he finally managed to spot the narrow strip.

The young student pilot watched his grandfather manipulate the power and the flaps. And though he’d already had some basic instruction on how each knob, switch and gauge functioned, Jack felt utterly lost.

Jack watched with anxious anticipation as the Cessna inched closer to the ground. He wondered what would happen next and how it would feel when they hit.

Just when it looked like the Cessna was going to plow into the ground, his grandfather gently pulled the nose skyward.

The touchdown was much smoother than he anticipated. Jack looked at his grandfather with a smile that bubbled over with youthful enthusiasm. All of his fears were gone.

Bill returned his grandson’s smile, before turning his attention back to the job at hand.

A thousand words were exchanged in that one glance between the two, and stored as a memory that each would carry with him forever.

*

Later that afternoon, Jack was riding his bike along Fords Pond road when he saw John Tacker’s car approaching.

John stopped the car and rolled down his window. “Hi, Jack, how’s it going?”

“OK, Mr. Tacker. How are you doing?”

“Good, thank you,” he said. “I heard you folks running up the engine on the Cessna this morning.”

“Yeah, we sure did,” said Jack

“Is it ready to fly yet?” asked John.

Knowing there were bad feelings between his grandfather and John Tacker, Jack was unsure about how to answer. He knew the two had been the best of friends, but wasn’t exactly sure how they became enemies. He’d asked his grandfather about it a few times, but his replies always seemed vague.

“Tell me what happened, Grandpa?” Jack had asked.

“Oh, life I suppose,” said Bill.

“That doesn’t sound right,” noted Jack.

“People view the world differently, Jack. Nine people will see a blue sky, but there’s always one person who will swear it’s green. John is one of those people who see green,” observed Bill.

His grandfather’s words made no sense whatsoever. He initially wondered if Mr. Tacker was colorblind, but decided against asking for clarification. During another conversation, Jack asked, “Did you really kill his wife?”

“Well, I had a hand in it I suppose. It was unintentional; it just sort of happened. Not much I can do about it now,” said Bill.

Jack always wanted to delve further into those subjects, but was forced to back off, sensing the tension his questions created. Each time, he’d tell himself to wait until the next time they were alone.

One of the quirks of Jack’s personality was his complete inability to lie. Standing beside John Tacker’s car in the middle of the road, the young man was in a quandary. He didn’t think it was wise to tell Mr. Tacker that they’d flown the airplane earlier that day, but neither could he lie. He looked at his feet, unable to find a solution.

“What? Did it spring a leak or something?” asked John with a sly smile.

“No, the engine runs really good,” said Jack. Then, having figured out a way to deflect John’s question, Jack added, “I think Lucy might take it up with my grandfather tomorrow.”

“Well, you know it’s illegal for you to fly that airplane out of your yard, don’t you?” asked John.

“My grandfather knows all about that stuff. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t do anything illegal,” said Jack.

“Jack, I used to work for the FAA, and I can tell you that he has to get permission to fly that airplane.”

“The F.A. what?”

“The FAA: Federal Aviation Administration. Their job is to license pilots, airports and airplanes. If your grandfather wants to fly out of his backyard, then he’s going to have to get permission,” said John.

“Well, I guess he knows that.”

“I hope so,” said John. “I would hate to see you kids get in trouble with the law.”

Jack may have been young, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t perceptive. He sensed John was up to no good. He sort of liked John, waving and smiling at him whenever he saw him driving down the road, but decided he’d better play it safe and inform his grandfather that John was asking questions.

“I should get home now. Have a nice day, Mr. Tacker,” said Jack, as he turned and pedaled down the road.

“You too, Jack,” said John. “Don’t let your grandfather talk you into doing something you’ll regret,” he added, knowing regret was something he knew a whole lot about.