XII
October, 1936
“Senor?” Ian gently asked. The only response was a particularly loud snore. Ian cleared his throat loudly, but in vain. The stationmaster’s snoring continued. Ian looked back at Eddie and shrugged. Ian began looking for a way around the large, mahogany desk. Just as he spotted a small crease through which he might gain access to the room, Ian was startled by the loud bang of the door to the office closing.
“Brr. It’s COLD out there!” Eddie loudly proclaimed with a wink.
Ian was about to respond, when he heard the voice of the station master.
“Buenas noches, señores.” The voice was slow, but dignified.
“Do you speak English?” Eddie asked loudly.
“Qué?”
Eddie gestured to himself, “English! Do…you…speak…English?”
The stationmaster looked confused, and began backing away from the desk. Ian then had an inspiration and reached inside his coat. At that movement, the stationmaster almost tripped in his haste to move further back toward the wall. Ian softly said, “It’s alright. I’ve got my papers here.” Ian laid his air force identification and travel pass on the desk.
The stationmaster quickly grabbed the papers and examined them. He looked up and made a motion which Ian assumed to be ‘wait here.’ The man then picked up the phone on his desk; and, with one eye warily on the two intruders in his office, dialed. A rapid burst of Spanish followed, with some gesticulation thrown in for good measure. Finally, after a few minutes the old gentleman’s speech slowed to a recognizable pace.
“Sí… Sí… Sí…bueno!... Sí!” And with that, he hung up. He then took a large key chain from off his desk and squeezed through the crease between his desk and the wall. Waddling towards the door, he indicated that Ian and Eddie should follow him. Once outside, the stationmaster braced himself against the wind and led the way over to the station building proper. Inside the building, he indicated for the men to take a seat. He waddled over to a cabinet; and, after fumbling with his keys for a moment, procured a bottle of wine and a few glasses. After pouring generous portions in all three glasses, he raised his glass and said, “Salud!”
“Cheers!” Eddie replied. By the time the staff car arrived ninety minutes later, both Ian and Eddie were blissfully inebriated. They did manage to ascertain that they were expected at the field at 10AM for their ‘check-out’ rides before collapsing in their quarters.
The morning revealed the field in all its glory. It consisted of a large, sod-surfaced, perfectly square rectangle. Several planes were being prepared for takeoff, three Tupolev SB ‘Katsiuka’ bombers and an I-15 ‘Chato’ fighter. Eddie was already aloft for his check flight. Ian gawked for a few minutes at the display of modern Russian weaponry before suddenly realizing that his instructor pilot was impatiently waiting. The instructor led the way over to a De Havilland 60.
Several takeoffs and landings later, the instructor seemed satisfied and left Ian to do some solo work over the field. Ian proceeded to have some fun, and practiced a few maneuvers Eddie had taught him over the last few years. The morning sunshine and brisk breeze did wonders to clear his slightly hung-over state. Banking over the field, Ian was gratified to see his performance was attracting an audience. He broke into a wide smile and waved to the crowds below before doing a smart barrel-roll and then coming in to land.
As he taxied towards the maintenance sheds, he was surprised to see the instructor come running up. Ian killed the engine and coasted to a stop. The instructor looked flustered but Ian’s Spanish was not good enough to keep up with the man’s increasingly rapid and excited speech. In due course, it became apparent that the base commandant wanted to personally check out these presumptive British pilots. Ian casually waved him into the instructor seat and waited for him to settle in. As the commandant suited up and settled in, Ian’s nerves made themselves felt.
Well, old boy, this is it! Don’t screw it up…
Up they went, and after gaining sufficient altitude, Ian proceeded to put the moth into a fast loop. At the top of the loop, he snap rolled the moth level again. After a moment, Ian felt a fist hit him sharply on the shoulder. Ian looked back and was surprised to see the commandant violently gesticulating toward the ground. Ian executed a quick landing and once again looked back at the officer. Ian was about to ask him what all the trouble was when the older gentleman leaned over the edge of the fuselage and vomited. After several moments of heaving, the officer shakily climbed out and proceeded to walk slowly back to his office. Twenty minutes later, both Ian and Eddie were officially certified as combat pilots.
