Fly Boy (5 page)

“Size seven,” I said.

“Is that adult or children’s size he’s taking?” the airman two over said loudly, and his buddy beside him at the counter laughed.

I’d just about had enough. And I knew enough about both bullies and being smaller to know that this had to stop now.

“My feet are big enough to kick your butt!” I said.

The laughter stopped—as did all the other sounds around us. Nobody was talking or joking around any longer. Everybody was watching. A couple of the airmen between the two of us stepped aside. The guy who had made the comment wasn’t much older than me … but he was bigger.

“What’s wrong, buddy? You can’t take a little friendly joking around?” he asked.

“Get it right, you
aren’t
my friend.”

The man chuckled nervously. This wasn’t what he’d expected.

“We both came here to train to fight the Nazis,” I said. “I’d rather we don’t have to fight each other … but I will if I have to.”

“No offence, kid, I was just—”

“I’m
not
a kid. I’m an aircraftman two, an acey-deucey, just like you.” I stepped forward and held out my hand. “David McWilliams.”

“John McNabb,” he said as we shook.

“My friends call me Davie. Starting from now on, you can call me Davie.”

John smiled. “I get Johnnie. Pleased to meet you, Davie.”

The corporals behind the counter brought back some boots—a pair for me and another pair for Johnnie. I noticed that my new friend’s boots didn’t look much bigger than my sevens.

I started to try on the boots.

“Keep moving!” the corporal barked. “If they fit or don’t fit, it doesn’t matter. You asked for sevens and that’s what you got.”

The corporal initialled my sheet and we quickly moved off again.

“What’s next on the list?” Jim asked.

I looked down at the sheet. I didn’t like the look of it. The next five spaces simply said
Inoculations
—shots.

We followed behind the men leaving the area carrying their uniforms and newly issued boots. I looked at Jim’s new boots. They were so enormous I wondered if they’d even fit in the cockpit of a plane. Actually, would
Jim
fit in a cockpit?

Of course, I’d never been in the cockpit of a plane, but I knew from my father—who was big, but not nearly as big as Jim—that it was a very tight fit for him. Could Jim even be a pilot? But wait, there were other planes … Surely he’d fit in the cockpit of a Lancaster or another big bomber. Any plane that could carry twenty thousand pounds of bombs could certainly carry Jim.

We entered another room and immediately joined the back of another line. At the front of this line were four or five women—the first women I’d seen here—dressed in white
nurse’s uniforms, and they were giving the inoculations. Each man stopped in front of each woman and received a shot in his left arm.

At first it didn’t look too bad, but the closer I got, the more I could see, and hear, the reactions. The men were trying to be brave, maybe especially because they were standing there with the other recruits and in front of a group of women, but I could see their pained looks, and some of them jerked or even yelped a little bit. Of course, anybody who reacted that way was instantly razzed by the guys standing around him.

I was going to work hard not to react even if I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself. I’d been smaller than everybody else my whole life, and I’d learned that meant I had to be just about the bravest, the one who complained the least.

Getting closer, I felt the sweat start to drip down my sides. At least it was where nobody could see it. I brushed my hand against my forehead just to make sure there was no sweat running down my face.

“Roll up your sleeves!” a corporal yelled.

Why was everything yelled here—did they think we were all deaf?

“If you’re right-handed, roll up your left sleeve to get the shots!” he called out. “If you’re left-handed … well, you should be able to figure that out yourself!”

I rolled up my sleeve and sidestepped until I was standing directly in front of the first nurse. Without exchanging so much as a word or losing a second, she pulled out an enormous needle and jabbed me in the arm! I felt the pain shoot up my arm and into my head, and I grimaced—but nothing more.

“You only get one from me,” the nurse said. “Keep moving.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I moved sideways.

“You’d better not be calling
me
ma’am,” the second nurse said.

I glanced up. She looked as though she wasn’t much older than me! She gave me a wonderful smile.

“Then what should I call you?” I asked.

“Nurse Johnson,” she said, sounding very formal, but her smile got even bigger.

“Hello, Nurse Johnson. I’m ready for my shot.”

She was holding a hypodermic needle in her hand. She was ready too. I turned slightly to reveal my shoulder and she leaned across the counter and placed a hand against my arm, lifting it up.

“This isn’t going to hurt at all.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Just the ones I like.”

I looked away from the needle and up into her eyes. Even her eyes were smiling and friendly. I felt a little pinch and some pressure, but no pain.

“There, was that so bad?”

“It’s over?”

“I told you it wasn’t going to hurt. Didn’t you believe me?”

“Yeah, sure, I guess.”

“It’s not very gentlemanly to question the word of a lady,” she joked.

“I wasn’t—”

“Move it along, this isn’t a date!”

I spun around. The sergeant was standing right behind me, so close I could feel his hot breath against my face.

“Yes, Sergeant!” I yelled back. I offered an awkward salute,
and as I brought my arm up, I realized that it was already hurting where I’d gotten the first shot.

“No salute, remember—I work for a living!”

I quickly moved over to the third nurse. She was neither young nor friendly looking. She actually looked like somebody who wasn’t going to care if the shot hurt or not. She pressed the needle against my arm and slipped the end in. There was nothing but a little pinch—even less than Nurse Johnson’s.

“That was really good,” I said.

“Some things get better with experience,” she replied.“But don’t think that means I’m going to be dating you, either.”

I burst into laughter along with everybody else—including the sergeant!

“We got ourselves a lover boy here!” the sergeant bellowed. “Don’t let his age fool you, gentlemen. You’d better lock up your wives, daughters, and mothers!”

“And which one of those do you think I am?” the nurse demanded, faking annoyance.

“I’d be proud if you were any of those to me, but I think wife would fit the best,” he said, bowing gracefully from the waist.

“You are a charmer, Wilbur,” she said.

“Wilbur?”
Johnnie, who was standing just over from me, said loud enough for everybody, including the sergeant, to hear.

“You think that’s funny?” the sergeant said as he stuck his finger into Johnnie’s face.

“No … of course … of course not,” he stammered.

“Don’t you mean no,
Sergeant
?” he bellowed.

“Yes, Sergeant!”

“Or do you think you should be calling me by my first name?” he demanded.

“No, Sergeant!” he replied.

The sergeant—Wilbur—mumbled a few more words under his breath and walked away, shaking his head.

Johnnie looked over at me and Jim. “I really got to learn to keep my mouth shut.”

Again everybody laughed. The sergeant glanced over his shoulder, and for a split second I thought he was going to come back, but he kept walking.

“You might be the first aircraftman who washes out before he has a chance to put on his uniform,” Jim said to him.

Johnnie opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it. He closed his mouth, mimed turning a key to seal his lips, and then pretended to put the key in his pocket. Almost at the same instant the fifth nurse jabbed him with a needle. Unprepared, he let out a little scream and jumped off the ground, which triggered more laughter.

The fifth needle went into my arm and the fifth set of initials was recorded. I was now officially inoculated. Once I was trained to fly, I could be sent overseas.

“I didn’t know you were such a ladies’ man,” Jim said.

“You know what they say: good things come in small packages.”

“They also say you can’t get too much of a good thing.”

I looked back at Nurse Johnson. She was certainly very pretty. She had such a nice smile and beautiful eyes and … she was batting them at the next recruit in line, and laughing, and she took his arm and leaned in close as she gave him his shot. I watched her then do the same thing to the next aircraftman in line. Either she flirted with everybody or this was just her favourite technique for giving somebody a shot.

“Let’s keep moving,” Jim said, giving me a little push forward.

I willingly complied. I was just grateful he hadn’t noticed her flirting with anybody else. Being thought of as a ladies’ man wasn’t the worst reputation to start off with. It sure beat the heck out of being made fun of for my size.

Up ahead was a door with a large red cross and the word medic written in block letters. I looked down at my list. I was suddenly afraid we were going to get more shots behind that door. I was relieved to see on the sheet that it was only a physical and an eye exam.

I opened the door and froze in place. Standing in front of me were a bunch of naked men in two rows!

Jim bumped into me from behind, knocking me forward. I turned around. His expression showed he was as surprised as I was. Had we wandered into the wrong place, or—

“Remove your clothing and place it with your newly issued uniforms in the back cubbyholes!” a corporal yelled. “Then assemble in rows for your physical examination!”

Both of us, as well as Johnnie and a couple of other guys, walked toward where the corporal was pointing. Men were already there, some undressing and others, who I assumed had finished their examinations, getting re-dressed, but this time in their uniforms!

I picked out a cubby at the end of the row, a few away from anybody else. This was not feeling very comfortable at all.

I placed my uniform in the cubby and then sat down on the bench and pulled off my shoes, not bothering to untie them. Next came my shirt and pants. I was so grateful that I had on new underwear. I stood up and wiggled out of them, placing them on top of my other clothing.

I felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. Where was I supposed to look? Where was I supposed to put my hands? Jim was already walking toward the back rank. I didn’t want to lose him, so I took my list, put my head down, and started walking.

A corporal appeared right in front of me. There was a
confused look on his face. “Acey-deucey, are you afraid of catching a cold?”

“What, Corporal?” I asked.

He pointed down. I was still wearing my socks! I lifted my leg, reached down, and grabbed one, pulling it off, and then the second, while hopping, almost stumbling, but still keeping my balance. I tossed them back at my cubbyhole and they both went in!

I joined a row of six men, Jim on one side of me, Johnnie on the other. In front of us was another row of equally naked men standing at ease—although I didn’t imagine anybody was feeling much ease or comfort.

Standing there in the buff, on the concrete floor, with a breeze blowing in through the windows at the top of the walls, I wished I could have kept my socks on. I shifted slightly from foot to foot, which I noticed other people were doing as well. I had to fight the urge to hold the sheet of paper with my list directly in front of me in a vain attempt at a little bit of privacy and dignity.

There was no conversation, and as I risked a glance around, I saw that everybody else was staring at the ground in front of them. I obviously wasn’t the only person finding this less than comfortable.

A man—equally naked—came through a door at the front. It opened from a small cubicle, and inside was a man wearing a laboratory coat. I guessed that was the doctor.

A man in the first row was called forward and ushered through the door. The aircraftman in the second row stepped forward to take his place. There were three other doors, and I watched as men moved in and out of those as well, until finally it was my turn.

I walked into the little cubicle, nervous, but grateful not to be standing out in the big room any longer.

“Name?” the doctor asked as he took my list from me.

“McWilliams … David,
sir
.”

I liked the fact that the last name was always said first in the military. McWilliams
was
my last name and I wasn’t going to stumble over that. But I was worried that I might accidentally blurt out Robert or Robbie instead of David.

“Do you have any medical conditions?” the doctor asked.

“No, sir.”

“Are you on any medications, do you have any allergies, or have you had any medical operations?”

“No, sir, to all of those.”

As he was asking the questions, he was looking in my ears with a light and poking me in my gut and sides with his fingers. I assumed he wasn’t doing that just to irritate me or amuse himself.