Operation Valkyrie (633 Squadron Book 4) by Frederick E. Smith

Author:Frederick E. Smith [Smith, Frederick E.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Military Fiction
Publisher: Thunderchild Publishing
Published: 2017-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

The sweating Millburn released his breath. “We should have had the brakes checked. Unequal drag shows up too much. And the runway could be longer. Otherwise it worked fine.” Then he remembered Adams. “You all right, sir?”

Down below Adams had never felt more talkative. “Yes, I’m fine,” he shouted. “That was a marvellous landing, Tommy.”

Although sharing Adams’ relief, Gabby had no intention of inflating Millburn’s ego. “It was a lousy landing. He came in too fast. I think he was scared.”

With tension removed, Gabby’s accusation brought nothing more than a grin from the American. “Tell me something, boyo. When gremlins turn green, does it mean they’ve filled their trousers? Because if it does you’d better get out of here fast.”

The falsetto note in Adams’ laughter made him decide to eschew humour until his nerves settled down. “Can you see anything of our welcoming party?” he asked.

His reminder made Millburn open up one of the feathered engines. With snow pluming out behind it, the Mosquito swung round and began taxiing back down the lake. As it neared the steep cliff two men appeared on its far side and waved the aircraft towards them.

Seeing the partisans’ urgency both airmen remembered where they were and felt a sudden nakedness on the broad expanse of ice. Blipping his engines, Millburn taxied the Mosquito past the cliff and swung her into the river mouth a hundred yards beyond it. As hills and trees closed in on either side, they relaxed again.

While Millburn manoeuvred the aircraft round for a quick take-off, the curious Gabby stared out at the two partisans. From the description Davies had given, he recognized the smaller man in American uniform as Lindstrom, although the young scientist’s face was bruised from his parachute drop and shadowed by a growth of beard. The second man, massive and heavily bearded, was wearing the uniform of a Norwegian Army captain. As Millburn cut his engines the giant’s bellow, delivered in atrociously‑ pronounced English, reached up to them. “You were takin’ your time out there, weren’t you? Do you want the bloody Jerries to know you’ve arrived?”

Millburn grinned at Gabby. “There’s nothing like a warm welcome, is there?” As he, Gabby, and Adams climbed down to the ice, the American turned to the giant Norwegian. “Don’t panic, Olaf. If they come, we’ll look after you.”

Jensen’s bearded face was a study.

“What did you say?”

“I said don’t worry about the Germans. We’ll look after you.”

As the giant gave a growl of disbelief, Lindstrom said something to him in Norwegian. When Jensen turned back he was wearing a fierce grin. “So you are a funny man, Englishman. Are your friends funny too?”

Gabby made a grimace. “ ‘Englishman!’ You’re promoted, boyo.”

“That’ll be the day,” Millburn grunted.

He turned to Adams. “You all right, sir?” Adams, whose first impression of Norway had been the bite of the wind on his face, nodded. As he introduced himself and the two airmen to Lindstrom, he noticed three other partisans watching them from the river bank.

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