Mosquito Squadron Read Online Free PDF

replied. ‘I have the fragility of my head to think about.’
    Yeoman taxied in, bringing the Mosquito to a stop at its dispersal and shutting down the engines. He turned off the fuel, ignition and electrical master switch, then unfastened his harness and pulled off his helmet, easing himself out of his seat. Hardy opened the small hatch in the cockpit side and dropped the short ladder. The two men clambered down, gratefully inhaling the morning air, and nodded to the waiting ground crew. Yeoman exchanged a few words with the corporal in charge, then turned to watch the other Mosquitos as they taxied in.
    A Humber staff car came round the perimeter track, heading towards them.
    ‘Here comes the reception committee,’ Hardy said. ‘I told you the CO would be watching.’
    Yeoman peered at the approaching vehicle, shading his eyes against the low-angle sun. ‘It’s the CO’s car all right,’ he muttered, ‘but there doesn’t seem to be anyone in it except the driver. And unless my eyes deceive me, it’s little Saunders.’
    ‘Could be your lucky day, skipper,’ said Hardy. Senior Aircraftwoman Joan Saunders, the Group Captain’s driver, was one of the most highly desirable inhabitants of RAF Burningham. She was also, by all accounts, the least attainable.
    The Humber stopped and SACW Saunders got out, straightening her cap. She walked smartly across the grass towards Yeoman and Hardy, her hips swinging, every inch a woman despite the somewhat unbecoming uniform.
    ‘Grrr,’ said Hardy, so that only Yeoman could hear him. ‘That’s worth a court martial, any day.’
    ‘Good morning, sir,’ Saunders said, saluting and addressing Yeoman. ‘The Group Captain sends his compliments, sir, and would like to see you in his office.’
    ‘Very well,’ Yeoman said. ‘Thank you.’ WAAFS always made him feel uncomfortable; it didn’t seem right to address a pretty young girl by her surname. He turned to Hardy, who was gazing glassy-eyed at a point midway between Saunders’ top two tunic buttons, and dumped his parachute into the arms of the navigator, who was already burdened with his own.
    ‘Look after that for me, Happy,’ he grinned. ‘The walk over to the crew room will do you good.’
    ‘Oh, thank you, skipper,’ said Hardy sarcastically. ‘Thank you very much indeed.’
    In the car, Yeoman unfastened the small bag containing the personal belongings he had taken with him to Fairwood Common and took out his cap. It was his second best, much the worse for wear, with a large oil stain across the peak, and he was very much attached to it, for it had been with him throughout his hectic time in Malta. He put it on and then, reaching down, pulled his trouser-bottoms free of his flying-boots, trying in vain to smooth out the creases.
    ‘Do I have time to get changed before I visit the station commander?’ he asked Saunders, as they drove off past the hangars.
    ‘Well, sir, he told me to bring you over as soon as you landed. There’s another officer with him, sir, from Group HQ, and I think he’s anxious to get away as soon as he’s had a word with you. So his driver said, anyhow.’
    The Humber deposited Yeoman at the main entrance to station headquarters, which consisted of a series of Nissen huts joined together to form a single complex housing all the administrative paraphernalia essential to the smooth running of a RAF station. Yeoman walked along a corridor, turned a corner and ran headlong into the adjutant, Flight Lieutenant Rees, an elderly, wisp-like man with an enormous moustache and wizened, sun-dried features. He had served in Mesopotamia during the 1914-18 War, and in Egypt and India for years afterwards.
    Rees dropped a sheaf of papers on the floor and the pilot stooped to help him pick them up.
    ‘Sorry, Adj.,’ he apologized. ‘I’m in a bit of a hurry; the CO wants to see me.’
    ‘That’s all right,’ Rees said. ‘It’s nice to see you back. As a matter of fact, I was just going to