The Rest is Silence (Billy Boyle World War II Mystery) by James R. Benn Page A
Authors: James R. Benn
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horse, and when I returned I heard Kaz speaking in a familiar lilt.
“ Nem blong mi Piotr ,” he said.
“No,” David said in amazement. “You actually spoke pidgin with real Solomon Islanders? You should write a paper, Piotr.”
“Hey,” I said. “We’re not supposed to talk about that, Kaz.”
“Billy, it is only because David and I studied languages together. It is quite fascinating, and he’s promised not to repeat this to anyone.”
“Listen, just don’t do it while I’m around. I never heard a thing, okay?”
“ Tenkyu , Billy,” Kaz said, and they both erupted in laughter. I went to get another round, and by the time I returned to the table they were whispering like two Solomon Islanders. I didn’t want to spoil their fun, but I didn’t want to chance a stretch in Leavenworth either. We’d kept that little jaunt a secret, as we’d been instructed, and it was best that it stayed that way, college buddy or not. I set down the glasses with a hard thump, getting their attention.
“Sorry, Billy,” Kaz said, sticking to English this time.
“Cheers,” David said. “Don’t worry, Billy, I am discretion incarnate. I’m happy to simply enjoy this evening out. Ashcroft can be a little narrow, if you know what I mean.”
“Narrow-minded?” Kaz asked, drawing David out.
“No, not at all,” he said. “I mean as though the walls are closing in. I hadn’t really got to know Helen’s family very well, and now I have nothing but time to spend with them. I’m afraid we don’t have much in common.”
Did he mean Helen or her family? Or both? It was a revealing admission, either way.
“How long will you stay?” Kaz asked.
“That’s just it, Piotr, I don’t know. The RAF doctor refused to release me for duty. I’ve got a checkup in two weeks’ time, but I doubt that will make any difference. There is no improvement to be had.”
“Any further surgeries?” Kaz asked, his voice hesitant.
“No,” David said. “They’ve done what they can. Saved my eye, but it’s not worth much, except to balance things out.” He worked up a smile, but like all his others, it was crooked, the shiny skin on the right side of his face barely moving.
“Will you stay at Ashcroft if the RAF won’t have you back?” Kaz said.
“Good God, no,” David said. “I couldn’t imagine it, living off SirRupert’s kindness. Helen wouldn’t mind though, she loves the place. I’ve got no family left myself, nowhere to go home to.”
“Perhaps you could find work,” Kaz said, without much hope in his voice.
“And do what? Teach languages at some boarding school? With this face I’d frighten the children, or be the butt of their jokes,” David said, waving his hand along his cheek. “I really don’t know what I could do to hold down a decent job.”
“What happened?” I asked, surprising myself. “I mean, were you shot down or did you crash-land?” Kaz glanced at me, and I knew it was bad form to be so direct.
“A bit of both. We were on our way back to base,” David said, his voice steady but quiet. “Four of us. It had been an uneventful patrol, for a change. We were jumped by a dozen or so Fw 190s as we began our descent. They must have been circling high above our airfield, waiting for aircraft to come in. I wish I could say I got any of the bastards, but it happened too fast. Much too fast.” He took a drink and wiped his mouth, fingers lingering over the sharp line that had once been his lower lip. “My engine was hit, and I was nearly blinded by black smoke. Flames burst through the instrument panel. I put the nose down and headed for the runway, hoping they were done with me and I could get out before the cockpit was engulfed by fire. It was too low to bail out, otherwise I would have. Do you know that in a Spitfire the fuel tanks are directly in front of the pilot? All that high-octane fuel sitting there, inches away.”
“No, I didn’t know,” I said, just to say something.
“ Nem blong mi Piotr ,” he said.
“No,” David said in amazement. “You actually spoke pidgin with real Solomon Islanders? You should write a paper, Piotr.”
“Hey,” I said. “We’re not supposed to talk about that, Kaz.”
“Billy, it is only because David and I studied languages together. It is quite fascinating, and he’s promised not to repeat this to anyone.”
“Listen, just don’t do it while I’m around. I never heard a thing, okay?”
“ Tenkyu , Billy,” Kaz said, and they both erupted in laughter. I went to get another round, and by the time I returned to the table they were whispering like two Solomon Islanders. I didn’t want to spoil their fun, but I didn’t want to chance a stretch in Leavenworth either. We’d kept that little jaunt a secret, as we’d been instructed, and it was best that it stayed that way, college buddy or not. I set down the glasses with a hard thump, getting their attention.
“Sorry, Billy,” Kaz said, sticking to English this time.
“Cheers,” David said. “Don’t worry, Billy, I am discretion incarnate. I’m happy to simply enjoy this evening out. Ashcroft can be a little narrow, if you know what I mean.”
“Narrow-minded?” Kaz asked, drawing David out.
“No, not at all,” he said. “I mean as though the walls are closing in. I hadn’t really got to know Helen’s family very well, and now I have nothing but time to spend with them. I’m afraid we don’t have much in common.”
Did he mean Helen or her family? Or both? It was a revealing admission, either way.
“How long will you stay?” Kaz asked.
“That’s just it, Piotr, I don’t know. The RAF doctor refused to release me for duty. I’ve got a checkup in two weeks’ time, but I doubt that will make any difference. There is no improvement to be had.”
“Any further surgeries?” Kaz asked, his voice hesitant.
“No,” David said. “They’ve done what they can. Saved my eye, but it’s not worth much, except to balance things out.” He worked up a smile, but like all his others, it was crooked, the shiny skin on the right side of his face barely moving.
“Will you stay at Ashcroft if the RAF won’t have you back?” Kaz said.
“Good God, no,” David said. “I couldn’t imagine it, living off SirRupert’s kindness. Helen wouldn’t mind though, she loves the place. I’ve got no family left myself, nowhere to go home to.”
“Perhaps you could find work,” Kaz said, without much hope in his voice.
“And do what? Teach languages at some boarding school? With this face I’d frighten the children, or be the butt of their jokes,” David said, waving his hand along his cheek. “I really don’t know what I could do to hold down a decent job.”
“What happened?” I asked, surprising myself. “I mean, were you shot down or did you crash-land?” Kaz glanced at me, and I knew it was bad form to be so direct.
“A bit of both. We were on our way back to base,” David said, his voice steady but quiet. “Four of us. It had been an uneventful patrol, for a change. We were jumped by a dozen or so Fw 190s as we began our descent. They must have been circling high above our airfield, waiting for aircraft to come in. I wish I could say I got any of the bastards, but it happened too fast. Much too fast.” He took a drink and wiped his mouth, fingers lingering over the sharp line that had once been his lower lip. “My engine was hit, and I was nearly blinded by black smoke. Flames burst through the instrument panel. I put the nose down and headed for the runway, hoping they were done with me and I could get out before the cockpit was engulfed by fire. It was too low to bail out, otherwise I would have. Do you know that in a Spitfire the fuel tanks are directly in front of the pilot? All that high-octane fuel sitting there, inches away.”
“No, I didn’t know,” I said, just to say something.
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