Chapter Three - Friends to the End
As the seasons changed and their time in cadet school grew longer, Rafe and Danny got to know the other pilots better. They were a motley bunch, from many different places, but their passion for flying bound them together.
True to their first impression, Anthony was cocksure, outgoing, and had an attitude that years of living in New York had honed to a razor edge. He had taken Billy under his wing, and Danny privately thought that although it was an odd pairing, they suited each other well. Billy — or William — was a country boy from the state of Kansas, and he was sweet, gentle, and always happy. His agreeable character brought out the softer side of Anthony. Amongst their crowd, the called him "Billy The Kid". Billy never seemed to take offense. He was that kind of man. And then there was Red, who stuttered terribly whenever he was nervous or excited. Nevertheless he had a good sense of humour and was fun to be around.
From Day One Rafe and Danny had already been unofficially recognized as the hotshots of their unit, and the pair had proven it beyond doubt. It was obvious to all their compatriots that they knew more and flew better than any of them. Still — and Danny was thankful for this — nobody held it against them. In the Army, everyone was equal as long as they wore the same uniform. That was part of what Danny loved about being in it. He didn't have to prove himself in order to belong, like he had had to do back in school in Tennessee when his classmates had laughed at him for having a drunken old man for a father, and he had given a particularly nasty boy a bloody nose and a black eye.
But this was no time for unhappy memories. It was a time to be joyful for his blessings.
"Walker, your turn."
Danny looked up at the sound of Captain Connor's voice. He was conducting one of his occasional progress checks on the cadets. Danny had noticed that most of the time, the most nervous people during these checks were the training officers themselves. Danny for one was not nervous. One flight was much like another, whether or not it was performed for a captain or a lieutenant or just for fun.
Today they were practising shooting, having spent the past few months mastering mechanical knowledge, takeoff and landing. That was all old hat to Danny. But shooting...shooting was different and exciting. It was with these thoughts that he climbed into his plane and fastened on his helmet. He looked out, saw Rafe, and gave him a thumbs up. Rafe smiled and returned it.
The flag flashed in front of him, and Danny guided the plane down the runway and into the air, in a procedure he could have done in his sleep. Now comes the fun part, he thought. He looked down, and examined the layout of the ground below. His first target was coming up, a large disc with #1 inked boldly on it. Danny took careful aim, and fired.
There was a small explosive sound, and the target lay ripped to pieces. Danny grinned to himself. "Not bad, Walker," he murmured. Continuing on, he did the same, gunning down the other targets with methodical precision. Then he turned the plane around and landed it where they had started, hopping out of the cockpit and removing his helmet with a smile.
Captain Connor walked up to him and shook his hand. "Well done, Walker. Well done. Not as — spontaneous — as McCawley, shall we say, but excellent nevertheless."
Danny wanted to laugh at the mention of Rafe's flight, but he held it in. There was no denying that Rafe had a talent for flying, but he was sometimes overly — spontaneous, as Connor had put it. While Danny had shot down the targets in order, Rafe had shot them down randomly, sometimes doubling back and doing stunts in order to get one he had passed over. Danny knew Rafe had done it on purpose. Rafe would never have accidentally missed anything.
"Thank you, sir." He saluted and ran over to where Rafe was standing.
"Good flight, Danny," said Rafe, clapping him on the back and smiling..
"You too, Rafe," he replied. "You too."
***
"Did it again, you devils!" teased Anthony.
Rafe, Danny, Billy, Red and Anthony were out at the local bar for a drink. It used to be their custom that whoever got the highest score of the day's training would be treated to a round of beer, but Red, Billy and Anthony had forcibly abolished it, much to Rafe's chagrin. They claimed it was because Rafe and Danny were winning all the time, and Rafe had to admit that that was true.
"Top two scorers for the day." Anthony shook his head. "I swear, you oughta be our instructors."
Billy nodded quickly. "You're better than all the guys they send us, anyhow."
Rafe took a swig from his drink and smiled in amusement. "Don't talk rot, Billy. Danny and I don't have rank. They do."
Anthony sighed. "You're right. No matter how good you are those goons are gonna continue teaching us. And that's damn unfair, man."
"Someday, we'll be better than all of them," said Danny. "The five of us, we'll fly like they never seen before."
"I'll d-d-drink to that!" said Red, and raised his mug. They all took long sips of beer.
After a pause Billy spoke. "D'you think we'll ever get to fight in a war? A real war?"
His face had its usual smile on it as he said those words, but Rafe knew he was serious. Billy took almost everything seriously, which was part of his countrylike charm. He shrugged. "Hard to say."
"I've been hearing things about trouble brewing in Europe. But nothing's happened yet," Danny said.
Anthony waved his hand negligently. "Nothing's gonna happen. The Great War ended just some decades ago. Nothing could happen!"
Billy frowned, a rare expression for him. "I hope you're right."
Anthony patted Billy on the shoulder. "I'm always right, numbnuts," he drawled.
Rafe couldn't help laughing at this little exchange. His own feelings about war were mixed. Part of him didn't want trouble...the other part wanted to experience real fighting. Still, what Anthony had said made sense. His parents' generation had lived through The War To End All Wars. How could there possibly be another one so soon?
"Why're we talkin' about war anyway?" he asked.
"Billy started it," said Red.
"Don't know what you're all worried about," repeated Anthony. "I'm sayin' again, there won't be a war in our time. And for that, I say, hallelujah!"
Now they all laughed too. But deep down inside Rafe, something nagged at him. Call yourself a fighter pilot, Rafe McCawley? Just look at all those men who went down in the Great War.
***
It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind that Danny loved best. It was one of those days when he had nothing to do. It was just him, Rafe and the world.
He turned and looked over at Rafe, who was awake and gazing at the ceiling. "Rafe!" he whispered. There was just something about the peacefulness of Sunday mornings, that made him unable to raise his voice above that level.
Rafe looked over and smiled. "Morning, Danny."
"Something on your mind?"
"Just thinking. Nothing big. Just wonderin' — Danny?"
"Yes?"
"D'you think we're worth as much as the pilots who actually fought in the war?"
"That's what's eatin' you?" Danny asked.
"Well, yes..." Rafe trailed off.
"I don't know, Rafe. I guess we won't know unless we have a war of our own. And that's not likely to happen, is it?"
"No, I guess not." Rafe said. "You heard Anthony."
"So don't think about it," said Danny.
They lay in silence for a while more. Then Rafe spoke again. "Got paper handy, Danny?"
Danny sat up and rummaged around in his bedside drawers. "You're in luck, Rafe," he murmured. "Got a pen too. Why?"
"Write me a letter, would you?"
"Letter...no problem," Danny said. He enjoyed writing letters for Rafe, because it reminded him of home and revived those old memories. He himself had no letters to write, so he had to do it through Rafe. "Who's it to?"
To my sister Ellie. Tell her I'm fine — and that I'm topping the class — "
Danny raised his eyebrows. "You're writing a letter to Ellie, you haven't seen her in months, and the first thing you say to her is that you're topping the class? Shouldn't you say something like how are you?"
"Fine, then. Here goes: 'Hi Ellie, how are you? I hope you're doing fine. How are Mom and Dad and Jerry? I'm getting on well over here. Your big brother's topping the class and all, and Danny's second. We've met so many great people here from all over the country. Everyone's been really nice to us. Plus New Jersey's fantastic. There's this one bar I like to go to, and they have the best beer.' "
"This, in a letter to your ten-year-old sister?" Danny asked incredulously.
"She knows how I am," Rafe waved a hand at Danny. "Write it. And say that I miss them very much." The last part came out almost inaudibly. Danny, who never had much of a family to miss, nevertheless felt Rafe's sadness of separation. He scribbled hastily, then turned back to Rafe. "Anything else?"
"Yeah," Rafe smiled. " 'Danny's having fun over here. I've never seen him look so happy. He's been the best best friend, like always.' "
Danny looked up and laughed. "You know I hate writing stuff about myself that reads like that."
"Write it, Danny!" Rafe insisted, unwavering. "It's my letter."
Danny obediently wrote it down. Then he glanced up again, and grinned suddenly, a boyish, happy grin. "Thanks."
Rafe merely nodded. No other words were necessary.
***
Author's Note: Hope you like it so far. I'm trying to show the depth of Rafe and Danny's friendship. Anyway, thank you to my wonderful reviewers for your encouragement, and thank you to you now for reading. Please, please, don't forget to review!