Goodbye, Mickey Mouse

Author:Deighton, Len
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Sterling
Published: 2011-08-01T16:00:00+00:00

15

Captain James A. Farebrother

The cold front that had brought havoc to the Brunswick mission passed across Britain, so that by the following morning there was the usual west wind and blue sky that is a legacy of such weather systems. Farebrother got up early and bicycled across to the technical site in search of Kibitzer.

He found her in number two hangar. She was a sorry sight, fuselage and half the port wing black with German oil which in places had baked on in a shiny finish. Her port wing was supported by a heavy tripod jack so that two mechanics could kneel under the wing to work at the disc brakes. One of them threw a spanner into the open toolbox with enough noise to awaken MM’s dog, which stood up, stared, yapped unconvincingly, and settled down again.

Farebrother walked round and touched the sharp edges of the alloy from where the sheet-metal workers had removed a wing tip and taken it away to the machine shop. The engine covers had been removed to reveal the entrails of the engine, and up by the nose of the aircraft there was a pulpit-like metal rack. On it stood three men bending close to the Merlin’s innards.

‘How is it?’ Farebrother called up to them.

The men at the engine looked down and he recognized Tex Gill and Mickey Morse. The third man, wearing master sergeant’s stripes painted on his leather jacket, was the line chief.

‘You were lucky to get this heap home,’ said MM. He was wearing the olive-coloured herringbone twill coveralls that the fitters wore, and a fleece-lined jacket, a painting of Mickey Mouse filling the back of it. ‘Looks like three cannon shells went through her without exploding.’

The line chief tugged the large peak of his fatigue cap as if embarrassed by what he had to say about Farebrother’s plane. ‘We’re going to talk to the Major about making her a category E, sir. The sheet-metal shop never patches ailerons or flaps, and maybe the Major will think it’s not worth fitting her out with new ones.’ He grimaced. ‘But you know how short of planes we are right now. My guess is that the Major’s going to want her fixed up right here.’

‘Could you do that?’

‘Sure. We could give her a new engine, we’ve got plenty of those. We’d patch the holes . . .’ He looked at Farebrother and then at MM, hoping they’d try to argue him into getting a new plane. ‘Could be I’ll have enough guys to polish her back to the bare metal and wax her.’ The line chief paused and unconvincingly added, ‘She’d be as good as new, Captain.’

‘Run the end titles on her,’ said MM as he climbed down from the engineering platform. As he wiped his hands on cotton waste, he told Farebrother quietly, ‘The line chief is waiting for you to offer him the price of six bottles of whisky. Then he’ll sign her off as a category E.’

Farebrother knew what the

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