‘Say, ma’m, you got any kids in the war?’ one of them asked.
She wondered if she would need to tell a white lie, but decided to improvise.
They were no longer at war after all.
‘Yes, one son.’
‘In the navy?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Britain’s got a good number on the high seas. Okay, he’s a pilot like some of us here? Did he fight in the Battle of Britain?’
‘No, he’s in the army. Light armour infantry.’
‘Wow, I bet he’s seen some action,’ he stated as his eyes drilled into her.
‘I am sure he has.’
‘Is he back home safely now?’ he enquired in a more consolatory manner.
‘That’s what I’m flying out to discover.’
The answer must have confused the flyer. He stood up to leave the table. He pulled his hand from his pocket and flung a packet on the table.
‘Chewing gum. Helps the ears from popping in the plane.’ She smiled her thanks. Her brief flirtation with chewing gum at BP had ended quickly, but it might prove useful in the morning.
The following morning she arrived at the table at a few minutes past six. Her pilot Zak Withers put down his coffee mug.
‘Hi, Good morning, Ma’am. Southern grits on the hob, staple Louisiana diet, fills you up. Have some.’
‘Sounds just what I need,’ she said, helping herself to the grainy porridge.
‘Best breakfast in the world, our grits. Those in the north make fun of us.’
‘So it’s a southern recipe?’
‘Well, matter of fact, native Indians gave us it. You like it?’
She swallowed a mouthful with difficulty. ‘An acquired taste, perhaps? But I’m hungry.’
‘Okay, I hear you,’ he said. He shouted through to the kitchen staff, ‘Two eggs sunny side up, you got that?’ The chef gave a thumbs-up.
Hilda contemplated a full English breakfast, as it could be the last proper meal she would have for a while.
‘Hilda, so what you goin’ for?’
‘Something quite filling. Not sure when I’ll eat again.’
In a flash, he shouted through her order. ‘Hey, stack of pancakes with maple syrup for the lady with some bacon and eggs on the side,’ he shouted to the chef. He turned to Hilda. ‘Sunny side up or over easy, Hilda?
‘Er, sunny side up please,’ she ordered, not that she knew what over-easy meant.
Once breakfast was over, Zak gave her a few minutes to get ready to pack before they set off for the aircraft. It was a RB-1 Conestoga cargo transport aircraft, a bulky craft big enough to accommodate a row of tenement houses, she thought. The loading was underway when she arrived. Jeeps and lorries, pallets of sugar, flour and milk powder entered the aircraft’s gaping jaws. All bound for Hamburg and the surrounding district. Each bag bore the stars and stripes, though the propaganda was hardly necessary. The German people would surely have rejected Hitler’s dream and swastika emblem by now and would welcome any aid that helped them stay alive.
Chapter 24
Hilda Returns to Hamburg
The pilot released the brakes and the plane rolled gently along the runway, pointing north. The engines grew louder and louder as the ambling monster dragged its heavy load slowly along the runway. Hilda began to fear the metal beast might run out of runway. Then she felt the force of the engines as the nose lifted. For half a minute the treetops seemed within reach. She breathed a sigh of relief as the craft levelled out, then had another moment of unease when it occurred to her that the cargo behind her might have shaken loose.
However, the flight proved pleasant and uneventful. The sun was up early and they followed the river Thames out to the North Sea. The water was deep blue and peaceful, with flecks of sunshine reflecting on the rippling waves. There were no angry ships or threatening air flak; she enjoyed a cup of strong coffee and a doughnut with jam inside. I could get used to this American life, she thought, and then she remembered the gritty porridge at breakfast.
‘We’re going to Hamburg Airport?’ she asked Zak in the seat in front of hers. ‘Won’t it be demolished?’
‘What,’ yelled the pilot? ‘You’ll have to speak louder.’
‘Is Hamburg airport… still intact?’ she shouted as loudly as she could.
‘Hamburg Airport, Hilda, has been running since 1910 when the airships were in vogue. Between 1937 and ’45 it was the Luftwaffe base, but very cleverly disguised with trees and bushes to make it look less like an airport. Therefore, by the end of May, we got it working just fine. There might have been mass starvation without us getting these food sorties through. These people are desperate.’
‘I see,’ she replied. Zak was relaxed at the controls, chewing away.
The British coast slipped behind them, and the summer sunshine seemed to warm the aluminium fuselage. Her seat rested against the structure which was in a constant state of vibration. It was a comfortable feeling; in fact, she found it rather pleasant, and the tickling sensation was a distraction from the thoughts invading her mind about what she might encounter in Hamburg. She drained the last drops of coffee and dusted off the doughnut sugar from her knees. Chewing gum was on offer, and it did indeed prove useful as her ears had already popped.
‘You know where you’ll be staying?’ Zak shouted.
‘I’ll get into the city and work my way along to my home. I will take it from there. I am not sure what I will find or how long I will be.’
‘Then keep your eyes peeled. Look out for notes on scraps of paper pinned to doors, railings, that kinda thing. I saw that in Nicaragua when we flattened some towns.’
‘Flattened?’ she shouted back at him.
‘Well not exactly flattened, but many of the homes were set alight, burnt to the ground.’
‘Same thing, I would have thought. When was that?’ she enquired.
‘Part of the Banana Wars in Central America. It ended in 1933 after many years of troubles.’
A different country it seemed, with a similar story. But the same human suffering at the hands of the military. Might was not necessarily right, but brute strength always had the final say. She shook her head. When would they ever learn? She had heard the United Nations in New York was about to replace the League of Nations and hoped it would be a more successful organization than its predecessor had been. If it could intervene in time, conflict could be avoided thus leading to a more settled and safer world.
The skies were so calm and peaceful now that it was hard to believe that so recently they had been filled with pilots driven by fear of flak and enemy fire. Their descent began directly after they had crossed the North Sea. Light cloud hid the city, a city which had risen from the ashes after the great fire of 1842, had survived pestilence and cholera fifty years later, and had grown into the second largest city of the Republic. This same city had been home to millions of northern German people, to thousands of Jewish families, as well as to Hilda for thirty-five years.
They taxied along a mercifully debris-free runway and came to a halt near the airport terminal.
‘Guess we drop you off here,’ said Zak.
‘Yes, into the unknown.’
Zak nodded. ‘Make your way back here when you’re done. There will be a rota of flights back to Northolt, sure thing.’
‘That’s a good safety net for me.’
‘Sure is, honey,’ he said, winking as though he had been in the company of a southern belle.
The airport was not far from the city. Hilda declined a lift and decided to walk in order to gather her thoughts. She might even meet someone she knew along the way, someone who could provide the information she sought. Once she was underway, she realised walking would actually be quicker; the roads cracked open everywhere and many were pot-holed.