To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [91]
“You want us to give you . . . fuel?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind. It was either land here, or go down in the trees. As we came down, I saw the Indians on your planes. Quite a relief. I assumed I could count on a more friendly reception, countrymen and all. Captain Rieger is my pilot. He was not so certain, but once the motor quit, well, there wasn’t time for discussion.”
LeBlanc said the word again. “Fuel?”
The observer nodded, and Lufbery could see him straining to keep his smile as friendly as any man could. Lufbery looked past the man to the pilot, who stirred uncomfortably in his cockpit.
“Tell him to keep his hands outside.”
“Oh, certainly.” The man turned, said something in German, and the pilot raised his hands, let them hang out.
Lufbery nodded to the pilot, said to the observer, “What’s your name?”
“Otto Klein. You?”
“None of your damned business.” The man’s smile began to show strain, and Lufbery felt a hard burn expanding in his chest. “Mr. Klein, you are our prisoners. You will tell your pilot to rise from his seat slowly, with his hands visible.”
“Oh, please, sir, I ask you, as one American to another. Have you no respect for the chivalry of the skies? Even a splash of fuel, and we will be on our way.”
LeBlanc said in a low growling voice, “We are not in the skies.”
The pilot said something, and the observer turned, replied to him, then said to Lufbery, “All right, if you must be strict about this, Captain Rieger has a proposition. Allow us to refuel, and then, one of your pilots can follow us into the air. If you wish to be so barbaric about this, we can fight a duel aloft. The winner goes home, the loser . . . well, the loser does not.”
Lufbery could see the arrogance on the man’s face, felt his hands beginning to shake. He raised the pistol, pointed it at the man’s forehead. His voice was choked away by the tight fury in his throat, and he said, “Mr. Klein, if I was barbaric I would shoot you right now. I would execute you for spying on our airfield. You will tell your pilot to climb down now.”
The man’s smile had disappeared, and he glanced back, said a few words. The pilot shouted something, and Lufbery thought, Swearing at me won’t help, you Boche son of a bitch. The man climbed out of his cockpit, was on the ground now, stood beside his plane at attention. Lufbery said to LeBlanc, “Search him. He might be armed.”
LeBlanc moved quickly, unzipping the man’s flying suit, Lufbery motioning with the pistol for Klein to open his coat.
“Please, sir, in all fairness . . .”
“If you speak again, I will kill you.”
Lufbery wanted to say more, to scream at the man, felt the boiling outrage surging through him, right down to his finger that wrapped around the trigger of the pistol.
LeBlanc had the pilot by the arm, pulled him forward, said, “Uh . . . what do we do with them?”
Lufbery stepped back, motioned with the pistol, the two men falling into line in front of him.
“We turn them over to the army. They have appropriate places for prisoners of war.”
LeBlanc picked up the Lewis gun, was beside him now, said, “What do we do with the aeroplane? It’s a beauty. A new Albatros. God, I’d love to take it apart.”
Lufbery held the pistol against the pilot’s back, heard soft sobs coming from the observer. Out in front of them, soldiers appeared, and LeBlanc said, “They finally got word. Some farmer probably saw the aeroplane coming down.”
The soldiers were scrambling toward them, rifles at the ready, an officer drawing a short thin sword. Lufbery looked down, stared at the observer’s boots, saw soft brown leather, fat swirls and tufts of fur caressing the man’s ankles. He made a mental measurement, could see the man’s foot was about the size of his own, and the anger began to give way. The logic of it was calming his mind, the perfect restitution for the man’s treachery. He pushed the pilot to one side, poked the pistol into the observer’s back, said, “Tell you what, Klein. I’ll tell them not to shoot you. You give me your damned boots.”
“THEY WANTED GASOLINE?”
“And got all ticked off when you refused?