Book IV Read online

  “Right you are, Edmund. I picked it up in 1939.” He pointed to the hat still on the floor by the clothes tree and said, “The fedora completes the outfit. But no, I wasn’t on a mission. I went to a movie theater over in Brooklyn and saw Gone With the Wind with Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh.”

  “Do you know that if you ever want to see a movie, any movie” Edmund said with a wheeze, “we have every one ever made, and can send them to you immediately?”

  Bill smiled and said, “It’s not so much the movie, but the audience seeing the movie for the first time. Now, that’s exciting! To watch people in an earlier time raise their eyebrows at what they consider profanity. Well, it reminds me why I love to go back.”

  Edmund nodded as he fumbled with removing an electronic hologram unit from his pocket. He passed it to Bill who set it on the coffee table and activated it. Instantly, John Hyder appeared, standing as a six-inch-tall hologram.

  Bill watched as Hyder’s image spoke, “Greetings from the Time Tracking Group of 2066, Bill Scott. We of the group hope you are feeling well, and of course if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to text us. We are at your call night and day.”

  He hesitated a second, then continued. “Bill, this case is becoming a difficult one for us and we find ourselves placing it entirely in your hands. We are at a loss as how to approach it, except to turn it over in its entirety to you. Let me bring you up to the present, er . . . I mean, our present, your future, so to speak. It’s like this.” The small figure started to pace around his coffee table.

  “World War One produced many flying aces on all sides of the hostilities. On the U.S. side, we saw Captain Eddie Rickenbacker become our top ace with twenty-six victories. He was never shot down and survived the war to become president of Eastern Airlines. He was a champion of automobile racing and an adviser to the president of the United States and the military during World War Two.” The man in the hologram paused and continued with outstretched arms.

  “If he hadn’t survived the First World War, his presence would have been greatly missed. He helped forge automobile safety and, while at the helm of Eastern Airlines, fueled a rivalry with other airlines, forcing the industry to push the aviation envelope for safety and innovations. Now,” he said pointing to a slightly smaller screen, “watch what our probe returned with. I’ll narrate.”

  The smaller screen came to life as Hyder continued, “What you are seeing is an Allied two-seat aircraft on a reconnaissance mission taking photographs of German trenches.”

  The clip then showed two German fighters approaching. “Here we see two German Fokker triplanes getting on the recon aircraft’s tail.”

  Suddenly screaming down from above came three French-built Spad XIII fighters with American markings. Hyder continued, “Three American Spads were evidently using the recon aircraft as bait and here they come swooping down on the, supposedly unaware, German fighters.”

  Then, seemingly out of nowhere, came three more fighters diving from an even higher altitude and going after the three Spads. Hyder pointed to them and said, “As you can see, three red-colored German Fokker Dr.1 triplane fighters are coming down. They were using their two lower-flying fighters as bait.”

  The scene became chaotic as fighters ran after, and away from other fighters. Hyder didn’t have to speak as the hologram played out the rest of the events that resulted in a German victory that day.

  The smaller screen went blank and the hologram of Hyder showed him with his hands clasped in front of him. He said, “And that, Bill, is the end of Captain Eddie Rickenbacker. Killed two days before the war ended. And our computers show that should this happen, the safety programs of the automobile industry and the state of the aviation industry, will never catch up to where it is today. Countless lives will be lost both in auto and aircraft accidents. Many of these people who were killed would have become doctors, lawyers, statesmen, artists and just regular family members. This is not to mention the military advice that will not be given by Rickenbacker during World War Two. We just can’t tell how that will affect the outcome of the war.” He paused again, put his hands deep into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders.

  “The problem is how do we prevent this? Go back and stop him from taking that mission?” He shook his head no. “Everyone who knows about him says Rickenbacker would never miss a mission. He flew right to the end. Do we tell that German pilot who won the dogfight not to fly that day?” Hyder shrugged his shoulders. “We don’t even know who he is. We couldn’t get the tail number of his aircraft and even if we could, most didn’t have their own personal aircraft. Also, the Germans also flew right to the end of the war, especially the elite Jasta-11 fighter squadron. So, Bill, as you can see, we are in a quandary as to what to do. We hope you can help us on this one, and as usual, anything you need we will provide you. Good luck.” The hologram shut off.

  Bill turned to Edmund. “Wow! Rickenbacker. That’s heavy. Got to do something about this.” He suddenly noticed Edmund’s pallor and got up. “Come on. Edmund, we’re sending you back to where you can take a good deep breath. I don’t want to be the cause of the Scott line stopping in 2066.” Bill helped his future grandson up and walked him to the door.

  “Think you can work this one out?” Edmund asked as Bill gave him a hug.

  “Go back and tell them it’s in the bag, sonny.” Bill smiled as he opened the door for Edmund. “I’ll text you when I have a handle on this. Tell them to relax. 2011 is on the case.”

  Closing the door behind Edmund, Bill thought, Boy, this is gonna be a tough one. Got to do some research.

  Going to his library, he removed a book titled ‘WWI: The War to End All Wars.’ I feel it’s going to be a long night tonight, he thought as he went back to his easy chair.

  The grandfather clock chimed two and Bill got up and stretched. Well, he thought, I’ve learned enough about flying World War One aircraft to convince me that this isn’t a mission I should go on. Before he went to bed, he looked up the club’s dinner guest list for the next night. He slid his finger down until he came to John Brand. Yep! Johnny’s coming in tomorrow night, rather tonight, he thought, looking at the time. He turned out the light and went into his bedroom. He fell asleep recounting the first mission he had sent John Brand back on. History went off track when the Wright brothers failed to fly and the ramifications of that was World War One ended with the Germans winning . . . or that is what the computers predicted would happen if John Brand hadn’t gone back and guided the brothers to fly.

  The next day Bill found background information on the Ninety-Fourth Fighter Squadron stationed in France during World War One and read, “Captain Edward Rickenbacker was the commander of the elite group by the end of the war. He led from the front, flying two and three missions a day. By November 1918, his score was twenty-six victories. His group flew the French-built Spad XIII, a fast, nimble single-seat fighter sporting a pair of Vicker’s machine guns. The Germans who were contesting the same skies were flying the Fokker Dr.1, an equally fast and nimble triplane with twin Spandau machine guns. The German fighters belonged to Jasta 11, Richthofen’s Flying Circus. Although the Red Baron was dead by this time, the group still was the most feared Jasta of the enemy air forces.”

  A knock at his door brought him back to the job at hand. Matt opened the door a crack, put his head in and said, “The guests are ready for dinner, sir. Shall I ask them to be seated?”

  Bill looked up and said, “Yes, thanks, Matt. I’ll be down in a minute.” He logged off his laptop and went to his full-length mirror. He wore a black suit with a single-button jacket pinched at the waist, with silk lapels and pocket flaps. A white shirt showed off his black string tie and black onyx cuff links. His black, high-top shoes were, as usual, shined to a mirror finish. Finally, Bill tucked a red carnation into his lapel and thought to himself, Ready Mister Scott? Ready for a walk into the past? He smiled back at himself as he answered, “Yes, Mr. Scott, I am.” He opened the door and walke
d down the carpeted stairs to the grand dining room.

  A glance at the seating arrangements showed that on either side of him this evening, were the Border brothers. Ethan on his left and Francis to his right. Both were dressed in tuxedos of the period but as usual Ethan had a short white silk scarf around his neck while Francis wore a short black scarf.

  The dinner guests rose as Bill entered the room and he motioned for them to be seated.

  “Good evening, everyone. Good to see you all again and sorry I missed the cocktail hour.” He smiled as Matt pulled out his chair for him and continued, “I’m assured by the chef that the staff went overboard on tonight’s menu to commemorate the ironclad Monitor’s win over the Merrimac.” A cheer went up from the group at the long table.

  Bill noted that John Brand was seated next to Thomas Cradel, the New York stockbroker. Although they were in an animated discussion, Bill caught John’s eye and nodded. John knew by the nod, that Bill wanted to chat after dinner, and nodded back.

  Colonel Charles Fedders rose slightly out of his seat and addressed Bill.

  “President Scott, I wonder if you might be premature by calling it a victory for the Monitor? The news reports stated that both ships retired from the area, and I feel that leaves neither able to declare itself a winner.”

  Bill nodded in agreement and answered, “Correct, Colonel Fedders, quite correct. However, if I may make a judgment, I do believe the Monitor won simply by deterring the Merrimac from its assigned mission, that of destroying the Union, wooden-hulled ships, and thus breaking the blockade. So, in that, the Monitor completed its mission. I would say then, it remains to be seen, to whom history hands the victory wreath.”

  Colonel Fedders raised his eyebrows and nodded yes in agreement.

  “And, sir, on a different matter,” said Ethan Border to Bill, “do you not agree, Mr. President, that the correct color scarf to wear for an evening out, would be a white scarf?”

  Bill smiled, as he knew how both brothers felt about the color scarf they wore.

  Before he could answer, Francis said, “Ethan, please don’t put President Scott in a position that you will regret.” He turned to Bill and continued, “Sir, you need not answer this question, for I already know the answer and as a man of your intellect and bearing, there can be but one answer. But,” he pleaded, “please don’t answer this and hurt my dear brother, for he dresses as he thinks is correct, and he should not be chastised in front of such an august group as this.”

  Bill looked amused but took Francis’s advice and made no reply.

  After dinner, the guests retired to the den and most gathered around the large, unlit fireplace. Matt was circulating, pouring brandy and lighting cigars for all who wished them. Bill was about to corner John when Henry Osgood started walking toward him.

  Oh no, Bill thought, here comes Osgood to preach to me of the merits of making cement wagons for the Union Army. Bill remembered that Osgood was a descendant of Henry Osgood, who owned cement factories throughout the North, and pestered anyone who would listen about his idea of making wagons made of cement.

  “Impervious to fire,” he would boast, “Never would we lose cargo or men to enemy fire.”

  Of course, Bill thought, he never understood the number of horses it would take to pull such monstrosities through the poor roads of the day.

  As though reading Bill’s thoughts, Matt stepped in between and offered Osgood a cigar and a brandy as he winked to his boss.

  Bill took the opportunity to make his way over to John and lead him to a quiet corner of the room.

  He offered John his hand and both men shook hands eagerly. They had become good friends and Bill listened to John’s advice.

  “John, how’s it been?”

  “Good, and you?”

  “Fine, just fine. Can I tap your mind later?”

  “Absolutely. I have tomorrow off and miss our fireside chats.”

  “Good,” said Bill as he patted John’s back. “I’ll catch you after the club empties. See you later, buddy.”

  It was eleven-thirty when Matt closed the door behind the final guest. He went up the main staircase and tapped on Bill’s apartment door and opened it. Bill and John had just settled themselves in the deep, leather easy chairs.

  “Sir,” Matt asked, “may I get you and Mr. Brand anything?”

  Bill nodded and asked John, “Nice cigar and a brandy?”

  John nodded in agreement. “Sounds great.”

  Bill smiled and turned to Matt who was already gone. He looked at John and said as he spread out his arms in amazement, “He’s simply the best.”

  John nodded in agreement.

  “Listen, John,” Bill went on, “I want to show you a hologram from our friends in the future.” He got up and removed the hologram from his desk drawer and sat back down. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Eddie Rickenbacker.”

  “The top American ace of World War One?” answered John. “As an aviation writer, I had better know of him.” His eyebrows furrowed as he asked, “Why? Is there a problem with Captain Eddie?”

  Bill answered noncommittally, “Watch this hologram.”

  The hologram finished and John sat quietly, thinking. A tap on the door and Matt brought the refreshments in and silently left.

  John lit a cigar and said, “Bill, will you play it again, please?”

  After watching it three times, John said, “Okay, Okay, I see what happened. The American Ninety-Fourth was using the two-seater as bait so they could make some easy kills before the war ended. Only problem is, the Germans were doing the same thing, but they took the time to climb to a higher altitude.” He pulled long on his cigar then continued.

  “In air-to-air combat, altitude and speed rule. And you can convert altitude into speed by pouncing on your enemy from the greater altitude.” John shrugged his shoulders and said, “The saying was, ‘Watch the sun for the Hun.’ And it looks as though Rickenbacker didn’t check above, before diving on the bait the Germans set up, and it cost him and his men.”

  “How can we prevent it from becoming a reality?” Bill asked.

  John thought a moment and said, “I’m not sure. I mean, what do you do, send someone back and tell Rickenbacker to sit this mission out?” Then, answering his own question, he said, “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” Bill asked.

  “Why not? Because if you’ve read anything about Captain Eddie, you would know he set the rules and he played hard. He flew any mission he could. He was a great leader and wanted his group to be the best at doing what they were there for . . . downing the enemy.” With certainty, he declared, “No way you could stop him from flying that mission. Especially as the war was coming to an end.” He shook his head to emphasize his statements. “No way at all.”

  “What about stopping the Germans from flying that mission? Any chance of that?” Bill asked, exhaling a good-sized smoke ring up to the ceiling.

  Again John shook his head no. “They all knew each other. And, if a new guy showed up at the front, and they were even slightly suspicious of him, they’d have him checked out thoroughly.” He sat forward and tapped his cigar ash into a large round ashtray on the coffee table. “And if they thought he was a spy, it would be the firing squad for him. No, there has to be another way.”

  The clock struck twelve-fifteen and John stretched as he stood. “Tell you what. I’m going to sleep on this one and get back to you tomorrow. Okay, Bill?”

  Bill stood and they walked toward the door, “Fine by me. You know my library is available to you night and day should you need it.”

  They shook hands and John said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bill. I’ll call first.”

  “I’ll be here, John, waiting to hear from you.” Bill closed the door, and then went to get some sleep.

  It was nine in the morning when Matt tapped on Bill’s door and entered carrying a tray of fried eggs, bacon, home-fried potatoes and rye toast. A pot of coffee gave an aroma that helped wake Bill
up.

  “Nine o’clock, sir. Mr. Brand called and will be here at eleven-thirty.”

  “Thanks, Matt,” Bill answered as he rubbed his eyes awake. “I’ll shower after breakfast and meet him in the den.”

  At eleven-thirty, Bill entered the den just as Matt escorted John Brand in. John was smiling from ear to ear as he patted Bill’s back.

  “Got it, Bill. Pretty sure I have the answer.” He raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders as he continued, “You might think this is crazy, but I do believe it’s the only way to save Captain Eddie.”

  Bill smiled back and said, “I’m all ears, John. Grab a seat and tell me about it.”

  They sat in the same chairs they had the night before and John leaned forward.

  “Okay, see if this sounds good to you.” He cleared his throat and started. “You have to send someone back to stop a man from flying, knowing that he won’t listen and fly anyway.”

  Bill nodded in agreement and John continued, “You can’t send someone back to the German camp because he’ll most probably be exposed and jailed, or worse, shot as a spy.”

  Again Bill nodded and John sat back and opened his arms wide and exclaimed triumphantly, “That means one thing. A dogfight!”

  Bill looked puzzled and John sat forward again and clasped his hands.

  “You have to send someone back to intercept the German aircraft before he shoots Rickenbacker down. That’s the only way to stop this from happening.” He sat back and watched Bill digest his plan.

  Matt rolled in a cart with sandwiches and coffee and then left unobtrusively as the two men sat contemplating John’s scheme.

  Finally, Bill stirred and asked, “You think that will work? Send a fighter pilot back to do battle with the German?”

  “Yes, I do. I mean, he doesn’t have to fight the German, all he has to do is chase him off Captain Eddie’s tail before he shoots him down.”