[legendsport]

June 13, 1937: New York, NY:

"C'mon kid, it's chicken salad, not the meaning of life," an exasperated voice said.

James Slocum didn't even bother to turn around. The guy behind him was right, but part of his brain wondered why the guy didn't just grab whatever he wanted from one of the other windows. James never missed an opportunity to visit his favorite Horn & Hardart automat.

"Chicken salad it is," he said and inserted his money into the kiosk, opened the door and grabbed his chicken salad sandwich.

When he turned around, the man behind him gave him a frustrated look. But as James started to walk away, he saw the man turn again and peer back at him, a confused look on his face.

James sat down at a table and was just about to take his first bite when the man approached the table.

James looked up; the man was starting at him, that look of pure confusion still on his face. James was becoming uncomfortable, but as he stared back at the man he felt that there was something familiar about him.

The man seemed to visibly shake himself. Then he offered a small, uncomfortable-looking grin at James and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

James had a mouthful of chicken salad, but he nodded and motioned towards the table's other chair.

"Thanks," the man said, pulling out a chair and putting his cup of coffee and a sandwich of his own down before taking a seat.

The man took a sip of his coffee (Horn & Hardart was known for its coffee). Then he grabbed his sandwich, but before taking a bite, he spoke up, saying, "You look like someone I knew, once."

James swallowed and said, "You seem familiar to me too."

The man smiled and said, "I get that some." He put his sandwich back on his plate and said, "My name's Melton, Bill Melton."

James' eyes widened and he snapped his fingers, "I knew it! Melton! The head of Northeastern Airlines!"

Melton smiled. "That's right. And unless I miss my guess, your father was Jimmy Barrell."

James' eyes widened even further. "Yes, that's right." It all came back to him then - Bill Melton had been his father's commander in France. He was also the highest scoring American ace and a Medal of Honor winner.

Melton sat back, looking satisfied. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed before speaking again. "You look a lot like him. Your hair is lighter than his and your eyes bluer. I'd guess that's from your mother." James nodded.

James was speechless, his mind awash with so many questions that he couldn't quite parse them out enough to actually voice one of them. Melton was one of the very few people who could fill in the pieces of his father's life that no one else could. His mother had told him everything about their time together in the prisoner of war hospital, their marriage and trip back to the U.S. His grandparents and uncles had told him everything they could about his father's youth. No one would really go into the details of his death, but that was okay, James could understand why... and he knew what happened anyway. But his father's experiences in France... no one could tell him about that. No one except someone who'd been there with him. Someone like Bill Melton.

"I met her once, you know," Melton said, bringing James right back to the present.

"Who?" James asked.

"Your mother for one... Marie too," he said after a beat. James, who already knew about his father and Marie - and his half-sister Agnes - nodded.

"She married my Uncle Jack," he said.

Melton looked confused and asked, "Who? Your mother?"

James shook his head and grinned. "No, Marie. She's my aunt. And I have a sister... well, half-sister."

Melton shook his head. "That Jimmy..." he muttered quietly, a far-away look in his eye.

"What's your name kid?" he asked after a moment.

"James Slocum," he replied.

Melton's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Slocum? Your mom get remarried?"

James nodded.

Sympathy was written on Melton's face. He took another sip of his coffee and James wondered if he was unsure of how to proceed. After a few beats, James decided to plow ahead.

"I've learned everything I could about my father. From my mother and my dad's family mostly. What I haven't heard about is the war. Maybe you could tell me about that?" James asked, then added a "Please" at the end.

Melton frowned. "I don't typically talk about that," he said, explaining that because he was the top ace and lone Medal of Honor winner among the fliers, he was constantly asked about his wartime experiences.

"But I'm asking about my father's wartime experiences," James pointed out.

"A fair point," Melton conceded. "Many of my experiences were your father's too," he added, noting that they often flew patrols together.

James blinked a few times as he fought back tears. He needed to hear about his father, but it seemed like Melton was simply gearing up to tell him he wouldn't talk about it.

Melton noticed the watery look in James' eyes. He raised a hand and said, "Look kid, I can tell you things. I was there, I lived with your father and we flew together, fought together and caroused together. But this isn't a happy story." He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, that war was brutal and just because we weren't in the trenches with the doughboys doesn't mean it wasn't horrible for fliers too. It was."

He took another breath and said, "It's hard to talk about it."

James swallowed and then said, "Anything you can tell me... would be greatly appreciated."

Melton stared into James' eyes and after a moment, he nodded. And started talking.

Melton talked for nearly a half hour. James left the automat knowing nearly everything there was to know about his father's wartime experiences. Melton was honest, or seemed so, and didn't skim over too much, including the fact that his father chased French girls almost constantly when he wasn't in the air chasing Germans (or being chased by Germans). He heard about the brutal nature of air combat. "They called us the knights of the air, but that's just fancy talk. Our business was killing the other guy and theirs was the same, so while some guys may have tried to be fair, most of us were trying to stay alive and that often meant killing without mercy." Melton explained.

His father had been what Melton called an "instinctive pilot, seemingly fearless" who was a real thorn in the side for the Germans. He was also a fantastic mechanic who could fix nearly anything and it was his skill with a wrench as much as anything that helped him become a flier. James knew, from Rollie, that his father was a capable mechanic but Melton explained that his father's skill with a car was not only equaled, but probably surpassed by his skill with an airplane.

Melton told him how everyone thought his father was dead, though hope was restored a bit when the army captured the area in which his plane had gone down and they found no body and no gravesite, before receiving confirmation that Lt. James Barrell had been captured. Melton also said that when he had left for his final flight, his father had seemed to be "very much in love with Marie" and when he turned up after the armistice with a blonde German nurse on his arm, he seemed even more in love with her. "Your father had a way with the fairer sex," Melton said with a smile.

Melton had then pressed James on his own story. James explained that he had just finished his third year of high school, was a star outfielder on the baseball team and his grandfather predicted he'd be drafted and able to play professional ball. He also explained that his Uncle Tommy had paid for flying lessons and was even taking them with him. "I've got over a hundred hours now," James explained with no small amount of pride. Melton smiled and nodded, saying "Good for you. If you're even half the flier your dad was, you'll be great."

Melton then offered some advice. "Look, James, if you want to be a really good pilot, go into the service. You'll get free training, and that training will be the best there is. Then, after you serve, you come see me and I'll give you a job flying for Northeastern."

"Really?" James asked, flabbergasted.

"Sure," Melton said with a shrug. "We can use good pilots and you're Jimmy Barrell's kid."

James slumped in his chair, speechless.

Melton then said, "You'll need some college though. The Army requires two years of college before they'll take you on as a pilot candidate. The Navy has something similar, but I'd go with the Army. I'm biased, I admit, but you'll have a much wider range of planes to fly in the Army. I know you're a ballplayer, but unless you think you can make it to the top, I'd say you should at least go to school in the offseasons and at night... whatever it takes to get two years worth of college."

James nodded thoughtfully. He really enjoyed baseball, but Melton's advice made sense and lined up with what James had been thinking.

"There's going to be another war. That Hitler fellow is going to drag everyone back into the pit, you mark my words," Melton said. "And though I don't particularly care for Mr. Roosevelt's 'New Deal' I do think he'll do enough to get us ready." He stopped and gave James that stare again before adding, "Lord knows I hope I'm wrong, because the planes now are faster and deadlier than what we flew the last go round. It will be nasty, but I'd rather see my friend's only son flying in a war than ending up in that godawful infantry." He punctuated that last statement with a shiver.

James chuckled and Melton offered a reassuring smile in return. "Think on what I said," he said and patted James on the hand. "Tell your mother I said hello, assuming she remembers me. Marie too, the next time you see her."

And then he was gone, leaving James both grateful and stunned by everything he'd heard.

.