Ten days out to sea, Major Blake sent for me.

‘Crikey,’ Charlie said. ‘What have you done now?’

I shrugged. ‘Probably wants me to report on your recent crimes.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘How much is my silence worth to you?’

He grinned. ‘Best not keep him waiting,’ he said. ‘Good luck.’

It wasn’t until I was halfway up the stairs to the Major’s cabin that I wondered why Charlie had wished me luck. What had I done now?

I knocked on the door and heard a sharp reply, so I took a deep breath and walked in. The senior officers weren’t living in luxury, but the cabin was a sight larger than the bunk room I shared with the rest of the ground crew. Major Blake sat at a small makeshift desk under the porthole.

I saluted.

‘You wanted to see me, sir?’

‘Indeed I did,’ he said. ‘Stand at ease, Robinson.’

I didn’t move a muscle. Not at ease. Not one little bit. I’d never been alone with the Major before. In fact, I’d never even seen him so close up. His hair was shot through with grey, although he can’t have been that old, and his nose was sunburned, just like mine.

He smiled. ‘I understand the chaps call you “Ace”?’

‘It’s a joke, sir,’ I said. ‘Because I’m slightly obsessed with aircraft.’

‘Just slightly?’

I smiled too. ‘Maybe more than slightly, sir.’

‘That’s what I heard,’ he said. He leaned back in his chair until it creaked. ‘Do you know what else I hear?’

Now I’m in for it, I thought. ‘No, sir.’

‘You can tell what ails a plane just by the sound of it,’ he said. ‘You anticipate problems before they happen. And you’re the best fitter we’ve got, so the story goes.’

I blinked. ‘Don’t know about all that, sir.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ he said. He glanced down at one of the papers on his desk. ‘You were an engineer before enlisting?’

‘Almost, sir,’ I said. ‘A fitter and turner.’

‘Put yourself through trade school?’

‘Yes, sir. At the Mechanics Institute. Night class. Worked for the Tramways during the day. But then … Well, I signed up for the Flying Corps.’

He nodded. ‘Just so you could get your hands on an aircraft engine?’

I chuckled. ‘That’s about the truth of it, sir.’

‘Exactly as I thought.’ He looked up, right into my face. I shifted my gaze straight ahead. There was nothing outside the porthole but ocean.

‘When did it start?’ His voice was gentle.

‘My dad took me to see Harry Hawker fly.’ I smiled at the memory. ‘It was before the war started. There were thousands of people there, at Caulfield Racecourse, just to watch one man and his machine.’

‘I remember it well.’

I glanced down. His smile widened, so I went on. ‘Then a few months later, Guillaux came to town with his Bleriot. I watched every display. Everyone was mad for him because he looped the loop and landed at Government House. But that plane … Ah!’

‘I remember that too,’ said Major Blake. ‘The days of sunshine and glory. I suspect that one Frenchman convinced more men to enlist in the Flying Corps than any recruitment poster.’

‘Too right,’ I said. ‘I would’ve joined up that day if they’d declared war. But I was still an apprentice then.’

And my parents would never have given permission for me to enlist. They were opposed to the war from the very start. But I didn’t tell Major Blake that. Instead I said, ‘Guillaux had three mechanics. None of them could speak much English, but I hung about all day every day, and eventually Monsieur Cominos took pity on me and sneaked me into the hangar to look at the plane. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.’

‘Well, I don’t know what we’re going to do with you, Robinson,’ said Major Blake. ‘On one hand, we need fellows like you in the workshop, keeping our aircraft in the air.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘But on the other,’ he said with a grin, ‘I think we might make a damn fine pilot out of you.’

Charlie was waiting for me outside. He looked as stunned and nervous as I felt. A couple of the other pilots were there too, milling about.

‘So?’ asked Charlie.

I shook my head, trying to make the news stick in my brain.

‘He’s sending me to pilot training,’ I said. ‘Me!’

‘Now the Hun’s in trouble.’ Charlie grabbed me, twisted me round, and lifted me right up to face the others. ‘Gentlemen, I give you Cadet Robinson!’

‘Hoorah!’ They all shouted and carried on like pork chops, jostling and shoving me outside onto the deck. Banjo Boyd sang an impromptu song in my honour: ‘Ace is going to be an ace!’ The ground crew on the deck below sent up a cheer.

‘How did you know?’ I asked Charlie when the ruckus died down.

‘I tried to talk Major Blake out of it,’ said Charlie. ‘But he wouldn’t listen.’

‘Rubbish,’ I said. ‘You never.’

‘Well, maybe I did recommend you,’ he admitted. ‘But I needn’t have. Apparently I was only one of several.’

‘I can’t believe it’s happening,’ I said. ‘Blokes like me don’t get to be officers.’

‘And why not?’ said Charlie. ‘For goodness’ sake. This is the modern world. Blokes like you should be promoted on merit.’

Easy for him to say, of course. He never had to win a scholarship to go to a fancy school, or leave it at fourteen to be an apprentice. There was no doubt, when Charlie enlisted, that he’d be an officer, like all his brothers. University cadets, father a lawyer. That’s how the world works.

And that’s what Ma always said: this war churned through the working classes as if all those thousands of men were just cannon fodder. Officers had it better. Officers—

I sat down suddenly on the nearest bench.

‘What’s wrong?’ Charlie asked. ‘Good news too much for you?’

‘My mother’s going to kill me.’

He sat down next to me. ‘Ace,’ he said, ‘given all the people who are about to try to kill you, your mother is the least of your worries.’

‘That’s what I like to hear,’ I said. ‘A positive attitude.’

‘Seriously,’ he said. ‘You’re going to be an officer. A pilot. It’s a great honour. Girls will fall adoringly at your feet. Men will admire and envy you.’

‘You’ve been reading too many enlistment pamphlets. How many girls have ever fallen adoringly at your feet?’

‘Never you mind.’

‘Anyway, girls aren’t that daft.’

He patted my arm. ‘You’ve grown up around fierce women. It has affected your view of the world.’

‘Too right,’ I said. ‘And I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

November, 1916

HMAT Ulysses

At sea

Dear Sis,

I wish I could tell you where I am but it’s a secret. See if you can guess. It’s a port halfway to England, and I hoped there might be lions and elephants here but I haven’t seen any.

Not likely to either, since they won’t let us off the ship. We’re floating about waiting for more troop transports to join the convoy, and then we’ll be off again. I have to admit, I like aircraft a lot more than boats.

Now, I have some news, and I want you to break it to Dad and Ma as gently as you can. I’ve been promoted! The CO has offered to put me through pilot training once we get to England. That’s not a thing that happens every day. I never imagined it’d happen to me. But he reckons I can make a go of it, so I’ll try my very best. They’re already cramming my head full of navigation and map reading and goodness knows what.

Just think of it, Sis. When the war’s over, I’ll come home an officer. Maybe I can even start my own business. I’ll put aside a bit each week (I get paid more!) so I can buy a garage, and fix up cars and trucks and planes. Have a car of my own. Maybe even a plane. Imagine that.

That’s what I tell myself anyway. Everything will be all right. But I know Ma will worry about me flying, so tell her not to fret. And Dad won’t be happy because he hates the war. But you tell him … I don’t know. Tell him a man has to do his bit. Just like it says on the posters. I know I promised I wouldn’t get into any danger, and I’ll try not to. We’re a reconnaissance squadron, so all we have to do is fly around taking photos. And we don’t have to shoot anyone. It’s the scouts that get into those famous dogfights. Not us.

Anyway, we have to spend months and months in training and the war will probably be over by the time we’ve finished. You bet it will.

Your loving brother,

A