A FATHER’S LOVE, Chapter 2

Chapter 2 in a series of ten stories.

Flight Lieutenant Duke De Kalb was on patrol near Southhampton in mid-July when his Hawker Hurricane was suddenly fired upon by German fighter aircraft that had appeared in the sky out of nowhere. De Kalb was able to somehow remain focused, although most of his waking thoughts had been focused on his wife in Fort Stockton, half a world away, whom he figured had to be going into labor soon. Letters were slow in coming, sometimes a month or more behind when they were mailed .

He later said, “those noises in the aircraft were the loudest I’d ever heard. Like the whole world was blowing up around me.” Folks never heard much more than that; he never liked to talk about his time serving during the war. Four cannon shells slammed into the cockpit. Before he even knew what had happened, the plane was in flames all around him. The fuel tanks had exploded. One eye was wounded. His right leg was shattered and one arm had gone completely numb, broken in several places. He was sure there were internal injuries. Completely surrounded by flames and blood pouring out of his wounds, De Kalb was able to locate his parachute and make his way towards the small amount of sunlight he could make out.

But just as he did, he spotted a Messerschmitt Bf 110 straight ahead of him through the smokey cracked windscreen. Despite the nearly debilitating pain, lack of use of one arm, and blood in his eyes, De Kalb dropped the ‘chute and reached instead for the gun controls. He unloaded full firepower on the incoming German aircraft. The opposing pilot did all he could to dodge the fire headed his way.

After giving the enemy plane one last burst of firepower, De Kalb was nearly engulfed in flames. The intense heat of the cockpit was burning his flesh. It was only then that he abandoned his own plane. He struggled free of the cockpit as he strapped on his ‘chute and headed towards sunlight. Thinking of his wife, he stepped out of the plane and into the vast blue sky as he tumbled ass over elbows downward at a rapid rate of speed. Only after he deployed the ‘chute did he begin to take stock of his injuries. Rushing toward the ground below, he could see white bones poking through pink flesh in several places.

The ground rapidly approaching, he tried to anticipate the landing and make his body roll as it hit. Every roll on the ground caused pain that almost made De Kalb pass out. When he finally came to a full stop in a nondescript green field, he lost consciousness. Once he awoke, he didn’t know if he’d been out for 30 seconds or 30 minutes. He thought it might have been long enough to die, but he knew there wouldn’t be pain in heaven and he felt pain everywhere.

He passed out again. When he came to, he was in a hospital bed, his leg suspended from cables and pulleys, bandages covering most of the rest of him. He didn’t feel as much pain, but it was only because of the strength and quantity of drugs he’d been given. It would be days before he was finally coherent enough to fully grasp where he was and what had happened to him.

“You’ll be here for quite some time,” the nurse told him.

He’d been there long enough and seen here enough times that the embarrassment he felt at her sliding the bedpan under him and then removing it afterwards had actually subsided. The pain had not.

“But I’m going to make it? Eventually?” He seemed to really not be sure.

“We’ve got to keep the infection under control. You’re going to require several surgeries to be able to walk again.” The nurse was attempting to be as honest as she could while remaining as optimistic as she wanted to be. “There will be scarring from the burns. Maybe some additional skin grafts. You’ll have to ask the doctor about that.”

She looked into his soulful eyes and thought about what she would say if it was her husband. Or brother. “You might not run again. But you’ll walk. It will be hard work, but you’ll walk. And you’ll walk out of this hospital.”

De Kalb seemed relieved. “Do people know I’m here? Do I have any mail?”

The nurse knew that the pain of not hearing about his wife was almost as great as the pain he was suffering from jumping from a burning plane. She wished she had news for him.

Days went by. Then weeks. De Kalb grew stronger, able to sit up on his own. He was fortunate to have a bed with a window nearby. On the days it wasn’t raining the window could be opened and the sunshine gave him a better perspective. Seeing traffic come and go in front of the hospital gave him something to look forward to. He was able to eventually be helped into a wheelchair and wheeled outside on good days.

It was on a Sunday when the 1941 Indian 741 Scout pulled up. The 1941 Indian Model 741B was a military variant which was based on the company’s contemporary civilian Junior Scout and was produced for use by the militaries of the US and its allies during and around WWII. The bike was powered by a 30.50 cubic inch side-valve V-twin paired with a three-speed hand-shifted transmission and is finished in Olive Drab with military markings. Equipment included a brown leather gun scabbard, saddlebags, and double-sprung solo saddle as well as blackout lighting, an ammo box, a pack rack, a girder fork, a steering damper, drum brakes, an engine guard, a skid plate, and a two-into-one exhaust system.

Duke De Kalb was a young man himself. The kid on the Indian was a puppy. Dressed in Olive Drab head to toe himself, it was hard to tell where the bike stopped and the driver started. He was maybe 18 years old. The memory of what he’d witnessed overseas seemed to be burned into his eyes in a permanent gaze that made his brow furrow.

After dismounting the bike, the kid went inside, a leather satchel swung over one shoulder. He was only inside a moment or two when De Kalb watched him come back out through the same front door and walk towards him.

“Flight Lieutenant Duke De Kalb?” the kid asked. His accent was from some place in the northern states. He pronounced vowels differently, more nasally.

“You got him,” De Kalb replied.

The young driver stood at attention and saluted his superior. “I have a message from home for you. And your orders to return home as soon as possible.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a large envelope, the type with two buttons, one on the flap and one on the envelope itself. Twine wrapped around one button and then the other in a figure-eight, keeping the contents safe inside. He handed the envelope to De Kalb. He wanted to turn and run back to the Indian, double time, but of course could not. No more than he could turn and run back to Detroit, or Philadelphia, or wherever else he might have been from.

De Kalb unwound the string and opened the envelope. He read the contents and let the envelope fall into his lap. His head fell back and tears rolled down his cheeks. The young driver waited as long as he thought appropriate to be dismissed, and then took it upon himself to make his way back to the Indian 741 Scout and get back to base. There would be more deliveries to be made once he got there.

He left Flight Lieutenant Duke De Kalb to deal with the fact that he was the father of a baby girl back in Fort Stockton, Texas. That he was heading home. And that his wife had died giving birth.