“I was patrolling an area along the Somme, looking for new German encampments over the border in Belgium. All of a sudden I heard the rattle of a machine gun. A German fighter plane had flown up behind me, unleashing a barrage of bullets.”
Beside him, Delia had become very alert. He’d never told her any of this bitter memory, but talking about the crash was the cost of getting publicity for the CRB.
He assumed a cocksure smile and continued. “My odds were good because I was flying a Nieuport 21, which is the most agile airplane in the world. I could hear the bullets whizzing past my cockpit, but I executed a few sharp dives and turns to shake the enemy, although in the process my engine stalled.”
Everyone around the table looked spellbound.
Finn paused and pointed at a humidor on the sideboard. “Say, could I have one of those cigars?”
Delia would prefer he didn’t smoke, but his right hand started to tremble, and he didn’t want anyone to see it. Mr. Hearst himself picked up a cigar and held the lighter for Finn.
Finn took three quick puffs, pretending to enjoy it as he settled back into the chair to continue his story. After his plane had stalled, he lost altitude fast. A spray of bullets struck the engine, sendingsparks in every direction. It was only a matter of time before the fabric covering the wings caught fire. The squadron was flying over a densely populated city with nowhere to land. Finn had been close enough to the ground to spot a bunch of schoolchildren standing in a yard, staring up at him in horror as the plane trailed inky black smoke.
He was losing altitude by the second and didn’t have long to make a decision. He couldn’t aim for the field with all those kids around, but there was a canal in the distance, so he crashed on its narrow embankment.
Finn told the reporters everything. What crashing felt like, how his leg got mangled, and the panic of getting himself out the airplane, then nearly drowning in the muddy bank of the canal.
“After I dragged myself out of the airplane, I had only a minute or two to find a place to hide. The German pilot who’d shot me down was circling overhead, watching me. But the nearest landing strip was a couple of miles away. He veered off for it, and I knew the second he landed, he’d send a search party out to capture me.”
He was sure to omit Mathilde’s name or how many children she had, but he spoke about hiding in a sympathizer’s house and the comradery he formed with the family.
“That’s the thing about war,” he said. “I would have given my life for any one of them. We never would have met except that my plane went down near their house. Yet knowing them, and sacrificing alongside them, was one of the most profound experiences of my life. The only way I can thank them is by making sure the shipments from the CRB to Belgium continue. That’s why I’m here today.”
The table before him held a bounty of rich food, but Finn had lost his appetite. He fiddled with the cigar in one hand and clenched the arm of his chair with the other. Beneath the table, Delia rested a hand on his knee. He was grateful for the assurance from her; that she knew what all this cost him and that she cared.
Finn nodded to the reporters across the table. “Anyway, thanksfor listening to my story. I hope it will help raise support for the CRB and all the good that it does.”
Thomas Brodsky, the reporter with the bald head and round spectacles, flipped the page in his notepad. “How did you make it back to France?”
It was the question Finn dreaded the most. “I was only a couple of miles over the border. It wasn’t hard,” he lied.
“Yes, buthow,” the other reporter pressed. “Every inch of the Western Front is bristling with barbed wire and land mines. There are observation posts armed with machine guns and searchlights. How did you get through?”
Finn ground out his cigar in a crystal dish. He was ready to end this and leave the restaurant. “You know what? Now might be a good time for you to put away that notepad and start minding your own business.”
Delia sucked in a quick breath and withdrew her hand.
But Brodsky doubled down. “This is the most interesting part of your story,” he insisted. “Everyone will want to know.”
Across the table, Mr. Hearst stood and faced the reporters. “Come,” he coaxed. “The cheese course is coming soon. We’ve plenty of time to hear about the splendid escape. Please, help yourselves to the cigars and relax.”
Brodsky walked over to get a cigar. There was no way Finn was going to talk. It wasn’t a “splendid escape.” On the contrary, it was both terrifying and shameful. He’d sworn to Bertie that he’d never reveal the fact of his hiding aboard a CRB barge, especially not to journalists.
Brodsky gave a sly smile as he sauntered over to Finn with the additional cigar. “Pipe down, fly-boy.”
Finn shot to his feet and grabbed Brodsky by both lapels, shoving him backward into the sideboard. Crystal decanters smashed to the floor, and the platter of fruit toppled. He drew back a fist to punch the lights out of Brodsky, but the older man made no move to defend himself. Instead, he leaned back against the sideboard, alook of horror mingled with pity on his face as he stared at Finn. It cut through the haze of red.
Finn gave the reporter a final shake before releasing him.
Delia rushed over to him, broken crystal crunching beneath her boots. She pressed in close to his face and spoke in a furious whisper, “Finn! You need to apologize.Now.”
What had come over him? Everyone in the room was standing now, staring at him as though he were a bomb about to explode.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, but nobody moved a muscle. He forced himself to look directly at an annoyed Thomas Brodsky, who was straightening and brushing off his disheveled coat. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I don’t know what came over me. All this...” He gestured to the platters of food filling up the table, the mounds of chocolate, and the bottles of champagne chilling on ice. “All this makes me sick. It’s a disgrace to pile up fancy food like that when people are starving all over Europe.”
Delia stepped between Finn and Brodsky. “You didn’t hear that,” she said to the reporter. “Lieutenant Delaney is grateful to be safely back home but feels guilty over the people he had to leave behind.”
Brodsky was still busy examining his jacket. “This is my best coat, and it’s got brandy all over it.”
