Excerpted from the unpublished novel: GOLIATH’S GATE

CHAPTER 10: The Dry Run

It was a hot July morning in the summer of 1954. Except for some workmen who were starting to put up the bandstand for the 4th of July festivities, there weren’t a lot of people at the Fairgrounds. There were five of us traveling single file downriver on our bikes, all members of the Blue Angels, a squadron we had formed to fly the first radio controlled model plane in the state of New Hampshire.

Jason Miller was in the lead. It was his plane, and it was big. A Trixter Beam Trainer with a 52" wingspan. He traveled it around town on a special rack he designed made from steel pipe that supported the plane above his head. It was truly bizarre and fascinated people around our town. For a while he was a minor celebrity and even got his picture in the paper. When you pedaled fast, he said, it was like it wanted to lift off and fly.

We pedaled slowly along the river, Jason with Trixter, then me, his copilot and best friend, then Tom, Mick and Richie. The five of us had been friends since first grade. Tom was lanky and kind of awkward, Mick slim and athletic, while Richie was freckled and pudgy with a bunch of brown hair that hung down in his eyes. We kept him around out of habit and because he was brainy and his mom knew our mom’s.

We had picked the mid-morning time slot on purpose, figuring the fishermen would already have gone home and the swimmers wouldn’t be out yet. At this stage of the game, the fewer people who knew what we were up to the better.

As we past the last picnic site the road became a trail that dipped down toward the river. It was cool here and an upstream breeze filled our nostrils with the moist, green scent of the river. Watching the shadowy sunlight play off Trixter’s wings, I thought about our mission. Only the five of us, plus my other friend Robert Lee, knew about the trap door in her belly that would someday transform her into an honest-to-God, functioning bomber. Today was to be our first dry run over the actual target.

Through the green canopy we caught our first glimpse of the factory and Jason slowed. It was perched up on a rock embankment on the far side of the river behind a wall of trees. The Williams Tool Company (or WTC as it was called) was owned by a man named Aaron Miller who Jason hated, and we had been planning to bomb it ever since my friend Robert had come up with a functioning bomb-bay door design. Today’s plan was to send Trixter across the river and fly her along the roof of the factory. If that was successful the only thing standing in our way would be the money we needed to upgrade our engine and buy a set` of solenoids to operate the bomb-bay doors.

On the far bank, between the arching branches of two towering maples, was a fifteen foot break in the foliage. Through it you could see the factory clearly, though it was hard to be certain which building we were looking at. Jason stopped. This is what we’d been looking for. A passage through which Trixter could be guided. Our ultimate goal was to hit the cafeteria at lunch time, make a hell of a noise and scare the shit out of people.

Jason surveyed the opening and nodded with approval. Now, the problem was a launch site. To come in above the factory’s roof we needed to launch from roughly the same altitude. Being one of the first radio controlled model planes ever made, Trixter only had control over the horizontal; we could turn her left or right, but for altitude, the best we could hope for was to pre-set the ailerons for a gradual climb and cross our fingers.

"Maybe up there," Jason said, peering up the hill to our left.

Tom said, "I’ll go check," and took off up the steep hillside with big, awkward strides. About thirty feet up he turned and scrutinized the hole in the trees.

"What do you think?" Jason called up.

Tom moved sideways gauging the opening, then nodded. "Maybe from here, come take a look!"

Jason and I clambered up the embankment kicking down rocks and debris. We seemed to be on a level with the peak of the factory roof. Trixter always climbed some after you launched, depending on how you adjusted the ailerons, but it was far from exact science. Jason had read that new units were being designed that would give you solenoid control over the lift aspect too, but so far they were just in the planning stages.

"Do you think we’ll clear it?" I asked.

Jason shrugged, "We can’t go higher, we’ll be into the trees." He looked at me questioningly.

"It’s up to you," I said.

"Once we’re over the roof, we’re cool," he said.

Richie called up from below, where he was making sure Jason’s bike and Trixter didn’t fall over. "Yeah, if you can see through the trees."

I looked down the heavily leafed tree line. Richie had a point.

"Maybe we should wait ‘til winter," Richie said.

Tom muttered under his breath, "Great idea, Richie,"

Richie could be irritatingly logical without making much sense. Sure we could see better in winter with no leaves on the trees, but winter was six months away, what did he want us to do, go home? We talked it over for a while and made the decision. This was thespot. Tom and Mick down to help Richie unload Trixter.

I turned quietly to Jason. "You sure you want to risk it?"

He heaved an uncertain sigh. "I think so… I’m not going to fill the tank all the way. I just want to get it over there, fly it along the roof and bring it back."

"What if you don’t clear the roof?"

He looked out again and spec6ulated. "We’ll clear the roof." The more I looked, the more it seemed like a really stupid idea. Sure as hell the plane was going to come down on the other side of the river or get hung up in some impossible-to-climb tree.

"Maybe we should pick another target," I said.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "We’ve got to do the factory. That’s the whole point."
It was actually only half the point, the other half was he ‘just wanted to see if he could do it.’ ‘It,’ being anything with a high risk and a high reward, like when he was emptying out his dad’s 30‘6 shells for the powder to make a bomb.

With Trixter gassed and ready we discussed contingencies. Mick being the best swimmer was stationed downstream, in case the plane went into the drink, Tom was stationed upstream to keep us apprised of Trixter’s location on the other side of the trees, while Jason and I stayed on the hillside, Jason to launch the plane, and me ready to hand him the RC unit when he did. I was also holding a spare battery ready in case of emergencies. Richie waited below for moral support staying out of the way.

Jason adjusted the ailerons for a slight climb and we checked up and downstream for signs of fishermen or bathers. The coast was clear. It was now or never.

The roar of the engine was a rude intrusion into the sweetness of the morning. Jason closed his eyes briefly, took careful aim and let her go with a gentle push. As Trixter pulled out across the river, I handed Jason the Radio Control unit. He made an adjustment which headed her toward the opening in the trees.

"Is she high enough?" he asked, when the plane was midway across.
Squinting, I couldn’t tell.

He yelled down, "Hey Richie, is she high enough?"

"I guess! I can see daylight."

"He can see what?" Jason asked.

"Daylight."

In the shadow of the tree canopy it was hard to tell exactly how close Trixter was to the other side. Jason began to sweat.

"Is it going through?" He called loudly.

I scrambled sideways to get an angled view and yelled "No!" at the same time Richie hollered up, "It’s crooked!"

"Which way? Which way?" Jason yelled.

I scrambled down the hill.

"Right, you want to go right!" Richie shouted back.

The plane turned and started up river. I watched it cross into the hole in the trees.

"Left, go left!" Richie shouted.

The plane turned, then straightened out.
"That’s good!" I hollered.

Jason scrambled down to where Richie and I were standing and the three of us scrutinized the plane’s trajectory. The closer it got to the factory the harder it was to tell if it would clear. Abruptly, Trixter emerged from the canopy’s shadow and sped into the sunlight. At last we could see. It wasn’t going to clear.

"Oh, shit!" cried Jason.

"Too low!" Richie hollered.

Jason turned the plane right. Its left wing missing the roof by inches.

"Bring it back!" I cried.

"It’ll hit the trees!"

"The other way."

"It’ll hit the roof." He called up river, "Tom! Look for a place where we can bring it through the trees!"

I knew from the sound of his voice he was on the edge.

"We got to get down where Tom is!" he yelled, running up river clutching the RC unit.

I grabbed my bike and caught up to him. "Jason, get on the handlebars!"

He climbed on and we were off. Trixter could move pretty fast, and Tom was already jogging up river. I pedaled hard, stealing glances across the river but it was impossible to tell exactly where Trixter was. She could crash into the trees or the roof at any time.

Ahead, Tom was off his bike, pointing with both arms to the opposite shore. "Here!" he shouted, "It might work here!"

"Tell me when!" Jason yelled.

I felt a rush of adrenaline, not for the plane but for Tom. If something happened to Trixter, Jason would go ballistic and Tom would take the brunt of it. We’d all seen Jason blow, he had a hard time shouldering blame, and was quick to mete it out.

"Now!" Tom cried.

Jason whacked a switch on the control unit and lurched off the bike causing me to veer from the path. While he stumbled ahead, I rattled across river rocks.

"Now!" Tom yelled, again. "Straighten her out!"

God must have been smiling on Tom that day. Shredded poplar leaves rained down as Trixter pushed through the foliage. She was on our side of the trees again but tilting dangerously to the right.

I thought for sure she was going to curve back and crash, into the bank. But Jason hit left rudder and she fought for purchase. He was in the water now, splashing downstream saying "Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was a hair-raising couple of seconds while he made course corrections and she fought for purchase. Eventually, he got her leveled out, but she was heading downstream and had lost a lot of altitude. Finally, he put her into a 180 and just as he got her headed back up river we heard the familiar spoutter that announced the bottom of the fuel tank.

Mick was already out of his pants and running downstream. The engine roared as the last bit of gas was consumed and she nosed down into the water and began drifting downstream.

"Oh, crap, oh crap, oh crap…" Jason moaned.

But Mick was fast and he’d kept his sneakers on. He streaked across the shallow bottom, he leapt forward in a long, flat racing dive and scooted out into deep water. Five strokes later he had lifted her up and was headed to shore.

A Blue Angels cheer echoed across the river. Trixter was safe.

After that we headed back to town, and one by one the guys peeled off for home. We’d had enough excitement for one day. Finally it was just Jason and me walking Trixter along the shortcut through the woods to Jason’s house.

"I’ve got to pee," he said, pulling up beside the old Norway spruce we had nick-named the pee tree.
Standing there as we had so many times before I realized that the boyhood proportions we had taken for granted for so many years beginning to change. Zipping up, I asked, "are you taller?"

He nodded, and kicked some dirt over the moist spot on the ground. "Yeah. Since January I grew an inch and a half."

"No shit. I wish I would."

"My mom says it’s ‘cause I eat so much."

My mom said it didn’t happen for boys until the seventh or eighth grade and here we were going into sixth and my best friend had gotten taller and was getting pubic hair. As we re-mounted our bikes I examined Jason with a more critical eye. His body was leaner and his face seemed faintly changed. I don’t know if it was his eyes or his cheeks but for the first time his look reminded me of his dad.
When we reached his driveway he told me he was going to ask his dad for the money we needed to get Trixter fully operational. He’d been putting off asking for months, waiting for the right moment, but nearly losing Trixter over enemy territory had increased the urgency.

I helped him unload the plane and headed for home, only to remember two blocks away that I still had the spare battery in my pocket. The shortest way back was through the vacant lot behind his house. I left my bike by the fence and was headed around the side of the house when Jason’s voice came blasting out the kitchen window.

"Oh, why not!"

"I told you why not." It was his mom and she sounded upset.

I froze and dropped to the ground, praying that no one had seen me.

"But he said, this summer…" Jason whined.

"He said maybe this summer. And, I can assure you it’s not going to be this summer."

"But mom!"

"Jason why don’t you get a job. Other boys your age get jobs."

"What? Selling papers? It’s what fourth graders do! Besides you don’t make any money selling papers."

"Well, I’m sorry."

"Mom, please…"

"Don’t whine Jason…"

"Well what am I going to do?"

The only safe way for me to leave was to crawl under the window back the way I came. I had just started to do this when Mrs. Williams voice blasted out.

"I don’t know, Jason!"

She was right above me. I pressed under the window bay then sat cross legged against the house, my heart pounding.

"Well what about my birthday?"

"It’s a long way off."

She hadn’t seen me.

"Well, can’t I get it for my birthday?"

"I can’t promise it."

"Why?"

"Jason…"

"For Christmas? Can I at least get it for Christmas?"

"Stop Jason."

"Why can’t I get it for Christmas?!!"

His mom’s voice took on a different tone. "Because money is tight, because things aren’t going well…"

"But it’s only a hundred dollars! A lousy hundred dollars! Why can’t you just…"

I’d never heard Jason like this. His mom exploded.

His mom exploded, "Because we don’t have the money! Because I have to sneak money out of your father’s pocket to buy us food. Because we may have to sell the house…"

I was stunned. Everybody thought Jason was one of the richest kids in town.

"… Sell the house?"

"We’ve talked about it."

"Why?"

"Jason, I don’t want to go over this anymore. And I don’t want you mentioning what I just told you to your father!"

"But he said he was going to make money this year. At New Years he said that investment man was going to help him!"

"Well, the man didn’t!"

"But he said!"

"Do you think I like it Jason? You know I don’t. You know your father has problems."

"Yeah, he’s a drunk."

I heard a slap. Jason started to cry.

"Don’t you ever say that, you hear me? Never!"

A chair got shoved.

"Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you! Look at me. Look at me! You’re a spoiled, selfish boy Jason. You only think of yourself. You’re just like your…!" She stopped abruptly then rushed on. " You’re too good to get a job! It doesn’t pay enough! Well, some pay is better than nothing and nothing’s all we’ve got right now!" I’d never his mother so upset. "Do you understand what I’m telling you?" She started to choke up.

"Mom…?"

"I’m going to tell you a secret, Jason. He doesn’t give me enough to take care of things. Did you know that? And I can’t ask him for it. So you know what I do? I get it from your grandfather! Do you know how it feels to have to do that? Do you? But I do it. Because I don’t have a choice, because your father drinks up every penny he gets his hands on. Yes he’s a drunk! But he’s your father! It’s a sickness, a horrible sickness."

I could hear her crying now. My eyes were closed. I was trying not to hear, not to be there, trying to be a board or a nail or a piece of dirt but not me.

She sniffed and blew her nose, and I knew Jason had gone to her.

"We have to stick together, you and me," she said, her voice calmer now.

"Yes mom."

"You’re my boy, my only, wonderful boy."

"I’m sorry, mom."Now Jason was crying.

"Shhh. It’s going to be all right. We’ll be fine."

"Mom," he sniffed. "Why did grandpa do it? Why’d he sell the business to Miller?"

"I don’t know, sweetheart. But I wish he hadn’t. Then your father wouldn’t have this… reason… this excuse for everything. I get so tired trying to pretend everything’s all right. I wish I had a job. I wish I knew what to do."

Finally, she and Jason went into the living room. I crawled out from under the window bay and ran for my bike.

It wasn’t till I was having dinner that I realized I’d left the battery on the ground there where I’d been sitting.