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The colonel in charge of Hoxley Air Base looked up from his desk at
Lieutenant D'Honaire. "Can you restate the reason why you want the
transfer, lieutenant? I mean, you've only been with this squadron a week.
I know it's probably affecting you, but then again it's affecting the
whole base. Even me. I also know the whole Wing has the worst record for
aircraft losses, but its record for the amount of tonnage hitting the
target is second to none. Besides, we're seriously short of gunners.
The amount being killed in action is greater than the amount being
trained. So I'm sorry, lieutenant. Request for transfer denied." Fred left the colonel's office dejected. He was met outside by the Foxy Lady's co-pilot, Captain Rod Howard. Howard was the only member of the crew that Fred currently got along with, but then again, Howard was someone who could get on with anyone. Hey, chin up, feller!" he said. "The Foxy Lady has got to be the luckiest ship in the whole USAAF. I mean, every bomb she's dropped has hit the target, regardless of the amount of flak there's been or how bad the weather was. Also, there has been no deaths aboard her. Nor have any of her crew died in hospital." I guess he's right, Fred thought. Seeing the uncertainty still in Fred's eyes, the captain put an arm around Fred's shoulders and finished with this. "Stick with the Lady, son, and I guarantee she'll see you through 'til the end of the war."
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9/13/2003 10:40:22 AM
Extending Enabled
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