it were good news,” Canidy said, “they would have called and said something mysterious that would have let him know. Shit, they’re down. They’ve probably been down for hours.”
The chief of station took the message, read it, and handed it to Colonel Stevens. They exchanged no more than six words, and then Stevens waved Canidy and Whittaker over to them. As they approached, the station chief took the message back from Stevens.
“We can’t wait any longer,” Stevens said. “We have just been authorized to take any risk considered necessary.”
“Such as sending two fighter pilots to Africa in a C-46?” Canidy said.
“The risk, Major Canidy,” the station chief said coldly, “is that you would find yourself being interrogated by the Germans. It has been decided that the mission is worth running that risk.”
“So we go?” Canidy asked.
“Yes, Dick, as soon as you can get in the air,” Stevens said.
“I want to see you alone a moment, Whittaker,” the station chief said.
“I’ll go wake up the engineer and tell him to wind the rubber bands,” Canidy said. “Colonel, where’s the flight plan?”
“The engineer has it,” Stevens said.
Ten minutes later, Canidy called the Croydon tower and reported that NATS Four-oh-two was at the threshold of the active and requested takeoff clearance.
“NATS Four-oh-two, hold your position. I have a C-54 trying to land at this time.”
“Roger, Croydon,” Canidy said. “Four-oh-two holding on the threshold.”
Whittaker got out of his seat. “Don’t go anywhere without me,” he said.
Canidy wondered where the hell he was going, then realized that Whittaker needed to take a leak.
Whittaker came back as an Air Transport Command C-54 roared past and touched down.
“I hope the rubber bands don’t break and we have to come back,” Canidy said. “I’d hate to try to land here in this shit.”
He looked at Whittaker as he spoke.
Whittaker was extending a small snub-nosed Smith & Wesson revolver toward him.
“Put this where you won’t shoot yourself,” he said.
“Where’d you get that?”
“The station chief gave me one, and he gave the engineer one. I just took that one away from the engineer.”
“Why?”
“Because when the station chief gave me mine, he said I was to use it on you in case it looked as if you were going to fall into enemy hands, and I figured he probably told the engineer the same thing.”
Canidy looked at him incredulously.
Whittaker nodded.
“Jesus Christ,” Canidy said.
“Yeah,” Whittaker said.
“NATS Four-oh-two, you are cleared for takeoff. Maintain a heading of two-seven-zero magnetic until you reach seven thousand feet.”
Canidy looked over his shoulder at the engineer.
“Stand by to give me takeoff power,” he said into his microphone. Then he released the brakes, tapped the throttles enough to get him onto the runway, and lined up with the white line down the center.
“Give me full takeoff power,” he said to the microphone, then switched to transmit. “Understand two-seven-zero, seven thousand. Navy ATC Four-oh-two rolling.”
The C-46 began to gather speed very quickly, and he felt the controls come to life. Just as he lifted off, he saw the C-54 that had just landed taxiing toward the terminal area.
The C-54 stopped three minutes later in front of the terminal. Ground crewmen pushed steps to the door. An officer with colonel’s eagles on the epaulets of his trench coat ran through the rain from the terminal and up the stairs. It took the flight attendant longer than he expected to open the door, and he was drenched when he finally stepped inside the aircraft.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “welcome to the European Theater of Operations. We are delighted to have so many distinguished members of the press with us. We have buses waiting for you, which will take you to the press center, where we will serve breakfast. By the time breakfast is over, we’ll have your luggage sorted out and in your rooms. I must remind you that from this moment you are subject to both censorship and military authority. Now, if there are no questions that won’t wait, gentlemen, I suggest you begin to debark the aircraft.”
The last distinguished gentleman of the press off the aircraft wore a pink skirt beneath her brand-new green tunic with the shiny WAR CORRESPONDENT brass pins. There was an official hat that went with the ensemble, but Ann Chambers thought it made her look ridiculous, and she had already “lost” it.
She carried a canvas suitcase, a typewriter, and a Leica camera that had cost her an arm and a leg in Washington just before she left.
Well, here I am, Ann Chambers thought. Now the question