South African, a great tactician-and the most ferocious, most persistent air fighter Jerry’d seen yet. Malan was Group Captain and a decent bloke overall. That was a mistake he heard the gremlins laughing as soon as he walked in and saw Sailor Malan. He swallowed, still restless, dry-mouthed by proxy, and went to fetch a cup of tea from the canteen. Green flight would be out over Flamborough Head by now, hunting. Blue and Green were up this morning, Red and Yellow resting. Half his mind was on Dolly, the other half with his mates. Jerry came out of the pilots’ WC half an hour later, eyes stinging with soap and petrol, backbone knotted. He walked away, suppressing the urge to look back over his shoulder at his wounded plane. I just-aye, thanks.’ Adrenaline from the aborted flight was still surging through him, thwarted reflexes making him twitch. ‘Go on, then,’ Greg said in feigned exasperation, backing out of the engine and seeing Jerry still there. Still, he lingered for a moment, watching as the mechanic poked and prodded, whistling through his teeth. He was shivering, right enough, the rapidly evaporating petrol wicking his body heat away like candlesmoke. ‘I’ll see what the canteen’s got in the way of leftover dripping. ‘Aye, the left wing-gun trigger sticks sometimes. You’ll maybe have her back up tomorrow, if the fuel line’s the only engine trouble. Greg shrugged, eyes squinted against the cold wind as he surveyed Dolly’s guts. ‘Aye, tell me something I don’t know.’ He held his soaked sleeve gingerly away from his body. ‘Not flying her today, mate,’ Greg said, squatting down to look up into the engine, and shaking his head at what he saw. He rolled out from under the plane, sneezing, and Gregory the mechanic stepped over him. Good job the mechanic hadn’t come loping up with a lit cigarette in his mouth. Well, thank Christ he hadn’t got into the air with it, that was one thing, but he grabbed the line to see how bad the puncture was, and it came apart in his hands and soaked his sleeve nearly to the shoulder with high-test petrol.
There was a strong smell of petrol, and Jerry popped the Spitfire’s hood and hopped out in panic, envisioning imminent incineration, just as the last plane of Green flight roared past him and took wing, its engine fading to a buzz within seconds.Ī mechanic was pelting down from the hangar to see what the trouble was, but Jerry’d already opened Dolly’s belly and the trouble was plain: the fuel line was punctured. It hadn’t been a bullet, though the off tyre had blown, and a sickening tilt looped them off the runway, bumping and jolting into the grass. Alarmed, he eased back, but before he could try again, there was a bang that made him jerk by reflex, smacking his head against the Perspex.
#A leaf on the wind of all hallows book full
Jerry MacKenzie turned Dolly II onto the runway full throttle, shoulder hunched, blood thumping, already halfway up Green leader’s arse-pulled back on the stick and got a choking shudder instead of the giddy lift of takeoff. It was two weeks yet to Hallowe’en, but the gremlins were already at work.
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