Chapter 6
Sam decided it would be easier to stay the night at the chateau. It was closer to the gun emplacement so he could fix it first thing Sunday morning and then drop by Etienne's farm with the plow part on the way to the aerodrome. Between the primitive car, the bad roads, and the rain he decided he didn't want to travel any more than he had to.
He'd planned to get an early start, but things didn't go according to plan. Several of the men billeted there asked him to take a look at various pieces of machinery that weren't working right. He'd been able to fix a few of them, but finally drew the line and insisted he must get to the gun emplacement. They accepted that readily enough, but it worried Sam. Which job was more important? Would the newly-repaired anti-aircraft gun shoot down a German plane that would otherwise kill an Allied pilot? Or should he stay at the chateau and fix the courier's motorbike? If he did then maybe the courier would carry a critical message – or if not, the man might be stuck by the side of the road with a broken-down bike and so not be in the spot where a bomb hit. It was impossible to know.
When he arrived at Corbie Hill around 9:30 in the morning the weather was beginning to clear. Sam viewed this as a bad thing, in that planes would be able to fly and men would probably be killed. Certainly the Fortiers' house would be bombed this evening; knowing that, he wanted desperately to stop it somehow, but hadn't yet figured out how. Reggie and Billy were in the middle of a card game when Sam arrived.
"G'day, John," Billy said, though he kept his eyes on his cards.
"G'day!" Reggie said. "Cap'n sent word you'd be here sometime today. I'm glad you got here early because it looks like the weather's breaking. We might need to work today."
"G'day," Sam echoed. "I got here as soon as I could." He pulled the strap from his pocket and brandished it. "And with a brand-new replacement for the piece you two broke." He grinned to let them know he was teasing.
"Wasn't like it was our fault," Reggie protested.
"But we're glad to know you fixed it, anyway," Billy said. "It's been awful dull around here what with not having a gun to man. Raise you two." This last was said to the card players.
"It wasn't the gun. 'Twere the rain; nothing flying to shoot at," Reggie told him. He tossed his cards on the table with disgust. "I'm out. Bloody cards, I've got nothin'."
"I can tell you're busy," Sam said. "So I'll just get started on some real work."
As he left he heard Reggie holler, "We'll come help just as soon as Billy here loses this hand."
Sam had barely begun bolting on the new strap when Reggie and Billy showed up. Billy climbed atop the gun to help steady the piece while Sam turned the wrench.
"He won with only a pair of 5's!" Reggie told Sam in a disgusted tone. "I had a pair of 6's; I could've beaten him."
Billy grinned broadly. "Then you shouldn't have quit, Mate. Anyway, you had your luck yesterday; you got a letter from your Mum. It's been two weeks since I've had a letter from home."
Sam paused in his work, thinking how nice it would be if he could get letters from home. "So, ah, how's your family doing?" he asked politely.
"Pretty well," Reggie replied. "Mum sent a picture of my sister Peggy." He dug in one of the many pockets of his uniform jacket and found the picture. "Here, want to see her?"
Sam leaned down to look at the picture Reggie held. "She's a pretty girl, Reggie. Is she married? Do you have nieces and nephews?"
"Good job she doesn't look a thing like her big brother!" Billy quipped.
"You're just jealous 'cause you don't have a sister," Reggie responded. "Only boys in his family," he explained to Sam. "Don't be gettin' your hopes up, Mate; Peggy's married, her husband is over here, somewhere. Mum didn't say it right out, but I don't think Peggy's heard from him for awhile and she's worried."
"Well, uh, I'm sure the mail is slow getting across the ocean," Sam said, trying to ease his mind. "She'll probably get a whole bundle of letters any day now."
"Maybe she's already got 'em," Billy said. "Your letter was dated three weeks ago; like John said, the mail is slow."
"I'm sure that's all it is," Sam said. "Hand me that bolt and I'll get it started in the top hole."
Al materialized in the middle of the big tent that he thought of as "Sam's". A crew was pushing a plane outside, apparently in something of a hurry.
"Sam?" he called out. "Sam, are you in here somewhere?" Receiving no answer he walked through the canvas wall to look outside. "Looks like a lot of activity around here," he muttered to himself. Planes were lining up along the rough runway and men were running toward them with a purpose.
He went back inside the tent, again calling out for his friend. "He said he was coming back here, but maybe he's already left for the gun emplacement. Sam?"
A pair of young soldiers ran in and looked around, then headed for a pile of ammo boxes. Al wandered over out of curiosity. Each man grabbed one of the handles, picked up the box between them and started outside.
"Hey, wait!" Al yelled. "Don't take that box, that's the one that Sam damaged. It's not safe – can't you read the warning on the lid?"
But of course they couldn't hear him, nor see him frantically waving his arms as he stood in front of them in an attempt to block their path. Al followed them out as another pair came in for the next box. He felt helpless, and could only hope that someone would notice Sam's scrawled message. Under other circumstances he would enjoy watching the process of feeding the belt into the machine guns, but now all he could think of was that this pilot might die because of Sam's error.
The pilot walked up, looking nervous. Another pilot approached him. "Lieutenant May, remember your orders. This is your first fight; you are to observe only and not engage the enemy."
"Yes, Sir, Captain Brown," May replied.
Al began to feel a little better. Maybe this would work out okay after all, if Lt. May followed orders. He pulled the handlink out of his pocket and began searching for any information on the coming action.
Sam gave the wrench one last turn. "That's it, bolts are on good and tight, the gun's fixed and safe to fire again." He hopped down from his perch and took a quick look from ground level, as if to make sure he hadn't forgotten something.
"Looks good as new," Billy commented happily.
"I wish we could test it," Sam said. "But I guess your captain might not appreciate that."
"It'll either work, or it won't," Billy said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm betting it will."
Sam laughed. "Well, I sure hope your luck at cards holds here!"
Reggie was scanning the sky, turning from east to west and back again. "We might just get a chance to use that gun sooner than you think."
Sam and Billy looked where Reggie pointed and saw a cloud of tiny dots in both directions. The dots were rapidly becoming large enough to distinguish as planes. The Allied planes coming from the west were bi-planes, though many of the German planes to the east showed the distinctive three-winged silhouette.
"John, you'd best go find yourself a helmet," Billy suggested. "I'm assuming you'll not be leaving us; you didn't last time. You're a brave man and a good mate to stick with us and help out."
"I don't think you'd have time to get away anyway," Reggie said. He pointed northwest. "The Huns are chasing some of ours. I only see two, looks like a couple of R.E.8's; it's probably a couple of blokes out doing photo reconnaissance. If they come this way we may have a chance at them."
Billy stuck a finger in his mouth, then held it up to gauge the wind. "Wind's out of the east today," he told them. "That's unusual, but it could be to our advantage."
"How's that?" Sam asked.
"If the Huns don't pay attention it'll blow their planes over the lines before they realize where they are. They'll be closer so we'll have a better chance of hitting them," Billy explained.
The three men watched the action in the sky. The German planes would get into position behind the "Harry Tates", which would then twist out of their way. They could see shots being exchanged; the dogfight went on for a good five minutes.
"Yes!" Reggie cried. "He hit the tripe!"
"It's turning tail and running for home," Billy announced.
Sam pointed to large puffs of smoke in the distance. "Someone else seems to be doing your job," he teased.
"As long as Huns are shot down we don't care who's doing the shooting," Reggie said with feeling.
"I think someone else has seen the action," Billy reported.
The knot of Allied planes to the west was headed that direction, quickly resolving into three squadrons of five planes each.
"I think you're right," Sam said. "I'll go make myself useful so you two can get to work."
Sam ran for the shack near the top of the hill, offering his assistance to the man in charge. As he buckled the helmet he'd been given Al showed up.
Before the Imaging Chamber door had a chance to close he started yelling. "Sam, there's gonna be a big dogfight over that way," he said, waving his arm to the northwest. He paused to take in Sam's appearance. "Oh, ha, ha. I guess you already figured that out."
"Does anyone here get hit this time?" Sam asked.
"Ziggy says no," Al replied, though he sounded a little uncertain.
"Are you sure?" Sam demanded. "You don't sound very sure."
Al was poking at the buttons on the handlink. "Ah, well, Ziggy says things are in a state of flux."
Sam frowned. "What do you mean, a state of flux?"
Al shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, you know; it's a dogfight. Things could change in a split second."
Sam raised one eyebrow. "Shouldn't everything happen just the way it did? I damn sure didn't do anything to change history!"
Al winced at Sam's statement. He couldn't be sure that the damaged ammo belt would be a problem, but he didn't want to tell Sam that the box had been loaded into Lt. May's plane; he didn't want to worry Sam needlessly. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "The problem is that we don't know what you might have done. You've been so busy, we don't know what you might have done differently than your uncle. There's just…"
"Too many variables," Sam said wearily. "I know, you told me that already."
"I'm here, Sam," Al tried to soothe his friend. "I'm an experienced combat pilot; I'll keep watch and let you know in plenty of time if there's any danger to this post. I promise."
"I'm sorry, Al. I know you will. I'm guessing you still don't have any idea why I'm here. Maybe like you said, I've done some little something that will make a difference."
"Look at those guys fly!" Al said. "I thought sure that plane was a goner, but he zigged out of the way and now he's on his enemy's tail."
Sam looked where Al was pointing. "That plane there? Al, I hate to tell you this, but it's a German plane and he's shooting at a British plane."
Al looked only marginally abashed. "Yeah, well, I can still appreciate his skill, can't I? Besides, here comes a Sopwith Camel to shoot at him." Al leaned forward as if he were trying to get a closer look. "Ziggy, center me on that Camel."
Al blinked out and back in a moment later. He looked worried.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked.
"Oh, you see, I was looking for you a little bit ago – I thought you'd still be at the aerodrome at Bertangles – and, well, I got sort of interested in watching these guys starting out. That's Lt. May, he's new to the squadron, and I heard his C.O., Captain Brown, tell him to stay out of the fight. He was only supposed to observe."
"I never met a Lt. May," Sam said with confidence. "So I couldn't possibly have done anything to change what happens to him. He probably got caught up in the excitement and he'll realize it here in a minute and go back to observing. He'll probably get a reprimand from his C.O. when they get back to the aerodrome."
Al kept his attention on the dogfight, partially to watch and partially so Sam wouldn't see his concern. Maybe it'll still be okay, he thought.
Suddenly the bi-plane flew out of the fray, headed west along the Somme river. A red tri-plane followed. As they watched the Camel maneuvered wildly trying to evade his enemy; it did little good.
"What happened?" Sam asked.
"His guns must've jammed," Al said. "He's trying to get the Hell out of Dodge and get back to base." They could both see the German fire twin streams of bullets, but Lt. May managed to avoid them. "He's so green he doesn't know what he's doing," Al remarked. "The other pilot probably can't outguess him."
"Will he make it?" Sam asked.
"Maybe. There's another Camel chasing the tripe. Look, he's firing at it – he hit it, Sam!"
The trio of planes was flying low by now and went behind a line of trees, blocking them from sight. Al requested a quick close-up look at the situation. When he reappeared the second Camel had overtaken the other two planes and seemed to be heading home.
"That was Captain Brown," Al said. "He thought he'd taken out the German, but he's low on fuel and ammo so he's going back to the barn."
"He hit the plane, we saw that; but he didn't shoot it down," Sam said.
"Sam, that red tri-plane…it's Von Richthofen."
"The Red Baron himself?" Sam asked in surprise.
Soldiers had been running around them during the dogfight; one man overheard Sam's exclamation. "The bloody Red Baron?" he asked in astonishment. "Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure," Sam replied. The man ran off and Sam could hear him relaying the news to the others.
Lt. May banked north, giving the Aussie gunners a clear shot at the Baron. They missed. But Von Richthofen stopped firing at the Camel.
"Now his guns have jammed!" Al shouted.
The red tri-plane banked to the east, as if making a run for safety. The Australian guns spat a second time and this time they connected. The Red Baron's plane glided toward the earth. At the last minute he threw something out of the cockpit and they could see it sparkle briefly as the sun caught it.
"Those were his goggles," Al reported.
"The lenses are glass," Sam said, suddenly understanding. "He might be able to set the plane down without being hurt too badly, but he wouldn't want to take a chance on the goggles shattering and cutting his eyes."
One more time Al popped out and back in. "He's dead, Sam."
"He crashed?" Sam asked.
"The plane sort of nosed in." Al demonstrated with his hand against the handlink, indicating the tail of the plane sticking up in the air. "The crash didn't kill him, but there's a bullet hole in his chest close to the heart. I doubt he was still alive when he hit the ground."
"Von Richthofen is dead?" Sam asked in disbelief.
Behind them soldiers cheered loudly at the news. He could hear shouts of "'E got what's coming to him" and "It's about bloody time". Men dashed to the gunners to relay the good tidings and the gunners began cheering as well.
Sam looked around himself uncertainly, but didn't get that tingling sensation that presaged a Leap. He turned to Al and said, "Well I guess you were wrong about me being here to kill the Red Baron. I'm still here."
Al looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, no, you're right."
Sam was enjoying seeing his friend squirm. "And I didn't shoot him down. I was here on the ground the whole time."
"But, Sam, he didn't get killed the first time April 21, 1918 rolled around."
"Maybe so, but I'll be damned if I know what I changed," Sam said.
"You wanna know?" asked Al.
"You know? Al, are you telling me that I really did do something that caused the man's death? I fixed one of those planes up there just now and somehow that made a difference?"
"Well, you didn't exactly do it on purpose," Al told him slyly.
"What are you talking about, Al? How could I not do something on purpose that would have such an impact?" Sam was getting a bit testy now.
"I'll tell you," Al said smugly.
"I wish you would," Sam snapped.
"I didn't want to tell you before because I didn't want you to be concerned. You've been pretty tense on this Leap."
"That's because I don't know why I'm here, and I don't like the idea that I can't help so many of these people."
"It was the ammo belt," Al told him.
"The one I dumped out, that got bent up?" Sam requested clarification.
Al nodded as if Sam had just gotten the punch line of a joke. "That's the one. They loaded it into Lt. May's plane this morning. I saw it happen when I was there looking for you."
"But I wrote a message on that box so they wouldn't use it," Sam said in confusion.
"Yes, you did," Al agreed. "Except they were in a hurry to get the ammo loaded and no one bothered to read what you wrote. They loaded it anyway."
Sam's face grew thoughtful. "And the kinked belt jammed May's gun so he had to leave the fight."
"Von Richthofen sensed he was helpless and followed him. Except he didn't realize that the wind had blown him over the lines and the gunners got in a lucky shot. You did it, Sam. You changed history."
"Ah, well, I'm sure the credit will go to someone else," Sam said. "I just played a small part."
Al punched up the info on the handlink. "Hey, that's interesting," he commented. "Apparently Captain Brown was given official credit for the kill."
"He did shoot at the Baron's plane, but we saw him fly off and Von Richthofen was still chasing Lt. May. If he didn't kill him, who did?"
"Well it sure as Hell wasn't that cartoon beagle!" Al exclaimed. "A lot of men claimed they fired the fatal shot. It was a big controversy for a long time. But by the time they figured out it was the Australian gunners nobody cared anymore."
"That's kind of sad," Sam commented. But he didn't have time to say more as Billy and Reggie ran up to him, happily yelling about the Red Baron's demise, hugging him and slapping him on the back in their glee.
Sam was still helping the men clean up and re-stock an hour later when Captain Downey drove up to check on the rumors regarding Von Richthofen. "What are you doing here, Beckett?" he asked in surprise.
"I got that gun fixed this morning," Sam replied. "Just in time for the big fight it seems."
"Marvelous!" George said. "I know that isn't your usual job and I really appreciate your taking it on. I can't thank you enough! And the Fortiers too, of course. Couldn't have done it without their help. I'll be sure to tell them next time I see them."
"You're welcome," Sam told him. "I'm, uh, going to drop by their farm after I leave here; I'll pass along your compliments."
"Fine, you do that," the captain said. "Not just for this; they've been a lot of help throughout the war. Tell them I'll think of some really special treat to show my appreciation. Though at the moment I can't think of what it would be; all the good stuff is rationed these days. It would be nice if I could find something they could all enjoy."
Sam smiled with genuine pleasure. He'd just figured out how to kill two birds with one stone. "Captain, I think I know something that would thrill the whole family."