The Final Flight by James Blatch (fastest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

I’m worried about her.”

“Not surprising with her background.”

“What do you mean?”

He moved away from the crowd around the barrel and beckoned her to follow. “She was orphaned in the war. House bombed in London. She and her brother lived, but both parents died.”

“Christ.”

“Like I say, she rarely talks about it. Keeps it all inside.”

Susie took Megan fresh water and sat with her for a while, but she was unresponsive. Eventually she left her to sleep it off.

Millie was pleased with himself. The flight was purely a familiarisation for the new pilot, Jock MacLeish, and so no official tapes were due back. That gave him ample time to build up his stock. He was onto his fourth reel as they descended toward the circuit at West Porton.

“Something’s happening down there,” MacLeish said over the intercom from his right hand seat in the cockpit.

Millie and Bright, with no usable windows, just looked at each other.

“What?” Bright said.

“Loads of blue flashing lights at the peace camp. Looks like they’re being evicted.”

After taxi, Millie let Steve Bright open the hatch and attach the ladder. He followed him out, holding onto his flight case, replete with his haul of fresh reels.

As he walked into TFU, it was clear something was up. Loud laughter emanated from corners of the room. Broad smiles on faces.

Millie walked straight to his locker. First things first.

The pile of reels was getting large, but there was nothing he could do about it for now.

He closed the locker just as Speedy Johnson walked past him toward the equipment hatch.

“What’s going on? Do you know?”

“Apparently Red and Rob accidentally gassed the hippies.”

“What?”

Speedy continued to the hatch as Rob walked back into the main planning room. One of the pilots slapped Red on the back, laughing.

Millie walked over to Rob. “What happened?”

“Silly old Nigel Woodward removed all the safety pins from the spare bomb, just before we flew over the camp, and it rolled out.”

“How exactly did it roll out? Did he launch it?”

“Red may have performed a rather steep pull-up, you know, just to wake them up. Unfortunate timing.”

“I see. Was anyone hurt?”

“Apparently not. But the gas escaped and set off a bit of coughing.”

Millie looked around at the pilots hugging the tea bar. A few more slaps on Red’s back.

“And this is apparently a cause for celebration? You could have killed someone.”

“Steady on, Millie. It was an accident. No-one was hurt. Well, not seriously.”

Millie was still in full flying gear, holding his helmet and oxygen mask. It was too warm in the room and he headed off to the equipment hatch.

Jock was there when he arrived.

“Heard the news?” Jock asked.

“Yes. Not sure I can join the celebrations though. Unprofessional, if you ask me.”

Jock nodded. “I agree. Doesn’t seem the right response, does it?”

“It wasn’t like this at Boscombe Down. We took it seriously, someone dropping a clanger like that would be for the high jump.”

“Aye. But this is the empire of Mark Kilton and if he finds it funny, so do we.” Jock gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder and wandered off.

Before he drove off the station, Millie called in at the sergeant’s mess. He stood in the entrance, not wanting to overstep his welcome without a proper invite. But after a quick search it was clear Nigel Woodward wasn’t there. As he drove out, he took a detour to the Non-Commissioned Officers’ married quarter.

Mrs Woodward opened the door.

“Is he in trouble?” She looked terrified.

“I’m not here in an official capacity, Mrs Woodward. In fact, I just want to check he’s OK?”

She led him in. Nigel was in the kitchen, drinking a beer. Mrs Woodward offered Millie a drink; he declined. She shut the door, leaving them alone.

“What happened, Nigel?”

He looked confused.

“Today, in the Argosy? The gas bomb?”

Slowly, the loadmaster nodded.

“Ah, yes. It went well.”

“Nigel. You released a canister over the peace camp. It wasn’t supposed to go there.”

Again, a slow nodding as if he was hearing this for the first time. “That’s right. They told me that.”

“Who did?”

“Oh, you know. Wing Commander Kilton.”

“Nigel, is everything OK?”

“I think maybe I pulled the pins out and then Mr Brunson flew us up quickly.”

Millie watched him for a moment; he was in a world of his own.

“Maybe go see the doc tomorrow, hey, Nigel?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Just call me Millie, at least here.” Millie patted his arm and stood up.

As he left, Mrs Woodward stopped him at the door. She lowered her voice. “He’s not been right for a while, if truth be told.” She glanced back.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s his memory. He forgets things. He goes through phases. Good days, bad days. This is a really bad one.”

“Forgets things? What sort of things?”

“My name.”

Millie stared at her.

“He doesn’t want to tell anyone, in case it’s the end of his career. He’s worried about the money, you know, if he can’t work.”

“Of course he is. But he needs to see a doctor.”

Mrs Woodward studied the ground for a moment. “The only person he sees is the landlord at The Black Horse. Goes most nights.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“He says it helps to talk to strangers, but he won’t talk to me.” Tears formed in her eyes.

“Strangers?”

“I don’t know. He’s found some new friend. Anything but face the facts. He’s not right, Mr Milford.” She bowed her head. “Something like this was bound to happen.”

Nigel appeared behind his wife.

“Nigel, you’ve got to go to the medic,” said Millie. “You understand?”

“Oh, I expect I will tomorrow.” He disappeared upstairs.

Millie turned back to the loadmasters wife. “Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.”

9

Wednesday 15th June

The buzz from the previous day’s mishap was still tangible. The pilots, used to existing in a vacuum of secrecy, seemed to enjoy announcing TFU’s presence to the outside world, albeit via an avoidable accident.

“Everyone in the meeting.”

A voice from behind. Rob.

“Sorry?”

“Kilton wants everyone in the morning meeting. Think we might be about to get a rocket for yesterday.”

“I doubt that,” Millie