RECONNAISSANCE
'Number N. squadron. . . . Ginger, it's for you*
. . . Wing. . . . They probably want us to go and
inspect the midnight sun/
'Wing' meant the headquarters of the senior
formation. The squadron leader rose and took the
receiver. As he listened he raised his eyebrows a
little.
'Very good. . . . Yes. . . . Yes, sir. . . . We'll do
that. . . .'
Then, as he hung up:
'Headquarters want/ he said, 'three reconnais-
sances over Germany: one to-night, another at dawn
to-morrow, and the other about nine o'clock. . .,
Whose turn to go?'
'Watson,' somebody said, 'Grant, and Turner for
night pilot.'
'They're to be at Wing at eight to get their
orders/
The wireless had been turned off. Now there was
no sound but the drumming of the hail on the
windows. Over the table a heavy silence had fallen.
It was not that a reconnaissance flight over Germany
was a rare exploit for these youngsters: theirs was a
squadron that had photographed the whole Siegfried
Line and scores of German hide-outs. But the
weather.. . /
'It's a flap,' said Watson lightly. Watson was one
of the pilots that had been mentioned.
From which I understood that this was a time
141