[legendsport]

April 15, 1942: Harding Field, LA:

"Name?"

"James Slocum."

A flipping of papers, a clipboard consulted. Then, "Ah, yes, Lt. Slocum. Welcome to Harding Field and the 324th Bombardment Squadron." A brief pause. "Sir."

James peered out a window overlooking a completely empty flight line. "Where are... you know, the planes?" he asked.

"Yeah, you'd think we'd have some of those, wouldn't you?" replied the sergeant.

"And?" James prompted.

"Scuttlebutt says they'll get here next month. Just in time for us to go to MacDill Field in Florida. We can't really fly those things out of here. Airstrip's not heavy enough to support those monsters."

"Fantastic," James said.

"Err, pardon me for asking sir, but ain't you a little young to be an officer, let alone a pilot?" the sergeant asked.

The guy was older than James and he felt a little guilty about that, so he decided to answer honestly. "I graduated early, got my degree and joined the Air Corps. Specifically so I could fly 'those monsters' as you put it."

"No offense, sir," the sergeant said.

"Don't worry about it sergeant. I'm well aware that I'm a bit young for the role," James said.

"One more question..." the sergeant began and James got a familiar sinking feeling. He held up a hand.

"Let me guess: am I related to Powell Slocum, right?"

The sergeant grinned. "Hey, I'm from Annapolis. I'm a big Cannons fan. Well... was, before they up and moved to Cincinnati." He spat. "You're not from Cincinnati, are you?" His eyes narrowed as he scowled.

"No, I'm from Brooklyn," James replied. "And to answer your question, I'm not actually related, no."

The sergeant looked disappointed. James bent over to grab his duffel bag and then he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and asked, "BOQ that way?"

"Yes, sir," the sergeant said.

As James began to walk away he looked back and said, "I'm not related to Powell, but he is married to my mother."

The look on the sergeant's face was so priceless, James just had to laugh.

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James' laughter turned out to be short-lived. It turned out that word traveled pretty quickly in the military and before long, everyone knew that a) he was the stepson of Powell Slocum, b) the nephew of several big league players and c) a minor league ballplayer himself.

Within a day he had been summoned to the squadron commander's office. Rumor was that Lt. Colonel Michael Thornton was a baseball fan and moreover, determined that his squadron would have the best baseball team in the 91st Bomb Group.

James snapped to attention before Thornton's desk and shot a salute, "Lt. Slocum reporting as ordered, sir," he boomed.

"At ease, lieutenant. Take a seat and let's chat," Thornton said. As James sat, he looked across the desk at the colonel. He was surprisingly young - at least in appearance. James had also heard that he had been one of the first to test pilot the B-17 Flying Fortress - and had crashed it on landing.

"So, Slocum... or should I say Barrell?" the colonel asked.

James said, "Well, I was born James Barrell Jr, sir, but Powell Slocum married my mother, raised me and was kind enough to adopt me. He's been as much of a father to me as any man could ever be... sir."

Thornton nodded. "Fair enough, Slocum. I just wanted to be clear that I am fully aware of your, shall we say, lineage."

"Yes, sir," James replied.

Thornton took a deep breath and asked, "You never met your father, right?" James didn't answer immediately and before he could Thornton shook his head and said, "Reason I asked, is I was wondering if he ever mentioned a fellow by the name of Eddie Grimes."

James frowned and shook his head, "You're right, I never did meet my father, but I do know Bill Merlon, and he did mention an Eddie Grimes. He was a pilot in the 94th, just like my dad and Merlon."

Thornton nodded, "Exactly so. He was also my mother's younger brother and therefore my uncle."

"You said 'was' so I take it he's no longer with us?" James said somberly.

"No, he's not," Thornton said and added, "He never quite got over the war. Essentially drank himself to death. But," and here he paused and pointed a finger at James, "He did say that Jimmy Barrell was a fantastic pilot and a better friend. Said he wouldn't have gotten through the war without him."

James eyes widened and he felt a swell of pride. "I've heard a lot of things about my father - including that he was a natural pilot, and that came directly from Merlon. But that might be the nicest thing anyone's ever told me about him."

"Good. That was one of the reasons I called in some favors to bring you into my squadron," Thornton said with a grin.

James was pleased but Thornton's statement made him ask, "One of the reasons?"

Thornton sat back and eyed James up and down. "I'm a pilot, Slocum, and a damn good one, too. But I am also a big baseball fan. I grew up in St. Louis and would get out to Pioneers Field early to watch Max Morris blast baseballs into the cheap seats."

James thought of his Uncle Dan's opinion of Morris - who was now Congressman Morris - and fought back the urge to smirk.

Thornton narrowed his eyes, almost as if he could tell what James was thinking, then continued, "We'll be pulling up the tent pegs here and heading to MacDill down in Florida before we know it to meet up with the rest of the Group. And when we do, I want us to have the best ballclub in the Air Corps."

"Really?" James blurted out, then remembered himself and added, "Sir."

"Damn straight, Slocum. I've been pulling some strings and found other guys - like yourself - who were ballplayers before they answered Uncle Sam's call. We're going to drop bombs on the enemy and we're going to hit bombs on the diamond." He paused and grinned at James. "You like that? I thought of it myself."

James nodded, all the while thinking the colonel was off his rocker. James was - or had been - a professional ballplayer, but he had climbed no higher than Class A. He wasn't sure the colonel's big plan would actually work. But that wasn't exactly his problem... or at least he hoped it wasn't.

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