Laughter rippled among the men, unwinding the tension, so Finn asked his question again. “Who drew the kaiser?”
A freckle-faced man stood, who looked like he’d come straight from America’s Heartland. “I did, sir.”
“Nicely done. Did you draw the zeppelin too?”
“No, sir. That was the Third ... I mean, Cadet Grayson, sir.”
“Grayson, stand up.” A square-jawed young man with round spectacles stood. “Why do they call you the Third?”
“Because I filled out my enrollment card as Charles Grayson the Third.” Suppressed laughter rolled through the men. “It was a mistake,” Grayson added in exasperation.
“Yes, it was,” Finn agreed. Trying to cling to any sort of honorific status would be ripe for teasing among men who were in the midst of forming lifelong bonds. Cadet Grayson was going to have “the Third” slung around his neck for the duration of the war. “Now take your seat so we can get down to business. I’m not here to teach you to fly airplanes. I’m sure you’re getting a first-class education over at the airfield. I’m here to teach you to keep your heads screwed on straight once the bullets start flying and you’re ten thousand feet in the air.”
Just speaking about it summoned the dull roar of his Nieuport biplane engine, therat-a-tat-tatof machine-gun fire, the burst of bombs below. Finn clenched his fists, quickly checking himself for the telltale sign of the nerves that cropped up yesterday, but there was nothing. He was as calm as a summer’s day.
Finn turned to the blackboard and tapped on a crude drawing of a Fokker Eindecker plane. The single-seat monoplanes manufactured by Germamy did not look impressive. They were boxy, blunt, and lacked panache and flair, but they were the most lethal planes in the sky.
“What makes this plane so different?” he asked, and all humor in the room fled. The men clearly knew the danger of this latest airplane developed by German engineers. Unlike American planes, the Fokker Eindecker had a synchronized firing mechanism so that their guns could shoot directly through the rotation of the propeller. It was the deadliest predator in the sky and had changed the course of aerial combat.
“Until one of our designers can develop a similar mechanism, the odds are against us,” Finn said. “The only thing that will save you is to outsmart the Kraut.”
Sorry,Delia, he silently thought for uttering the slur, but then continued.
“If you see one of these planes coming at you, it’s important to keep your head. Use whatever advantages you have. Fly into the clouds so they can’t see you. If there are no clouds, fly directly toward the sun. You can glance to the side, but he’ll need to focus on you and stare into the sun, so try to blind him. But remember to keep your head. Stay calm.”
Finn was perched on the edge of the teacher’s desk at the front, facing the men. All watched him with the utmost seriousness. He spent the next hour fielding questions about what it was like to confront the enemy in the air. If the men were afraid, they gave no hint of it.
As he spoke to the men, Finn kept a close eye on the clock. Hewas to meet Delia for lunch, and then they were off on another fundraising mission. It was embarrassing how badly he wanted to see her again, especially when he owed these men every scrap of insight he could share.
Nevertheless, when he left the classroom an hour later, he had a smile on his face and new energy in his step. He was off to see the love of his life.
Not only that but he’d just relived some of the most harrowing memories of the war and hadn’t suffered even a flicker of anxiety. Whatever strange mental lapse had stricken him yesterday was surely nothing more than a fluke, and he need not fear it happening again.
20
The next two months were the happiest of Delia’s life. She had apurpose, and with Finn at her side, they pounded the pavement for donations and steadily refilled the coffers for the CRB. Bertie said they were surpassing his expectations, and thanks to President Taft’s intervention, the Port of Rotterdam had remained open to them, accepting regular shipments from the CRB.
She and Finn visited at least three different venues each day to raise money. They attended charity galas arranged on behalf of the CRB, they sought out wealthy donors at their homes, and occasionally she was able to convince theater managers to allow Finn to give a speech before the shows began. He always showed up wearing his flight jacket and silk scarf. From grand opera houses to crowded vaudeville theaters, Finn took to the stage in his pilot’s uniform to discuss how the good people of Belgium had sheltered him and had shared their food and other supplies—supplies that were sent to them from America.
Even with all the fundraising work, she and Finn were able to carve out time for themselves. On Christmas Eve they went to Central Park to admire the Christmas decorations and lights andlisten to a brass band play carols. Fat snowflakes floated down as they walked arm in arm through the holiday market, sampling mulled cider and roasted chestnuts. Finn insisted on buying her a red knitted cap and arranged it on her head three different times until he had it to his liking. Each time he swiped it off, he pressed a trail of kisses along her neck.
“Let’s try again, shall we?” She’d stand patiently as he angled the cap this way and that.
The only real bickering came when they approached the skating rink. Finn wanted to take a spin around the rink, but Delia didn’t know how to skate.
“You go, and I’ll watch,” she said.
Finn ignored her objections and rented two pairs of skates. She sat on the bench beside him as he laced up his skates.
“C’mon, Dee,” he cajoled. “I’ll hold you with both hands and pull you around the rink. It’ll be fun.”
“I’ve always been a tremendous coward, you know that. I’m afraid I’ll fall and break my neck.”
“It’s much safer than downhill skiing, and I’ve done a lot of that.”
“Finn, you didn’t!” she gasped.
He grinned. “I skied every winter in the French Alps near Chamonix. It was fantastic. Come on now. Put on your skates, and I’ll lead you around the rink.”
