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COLD WAR - HOT SEX - well warmish!... More details ... |
| As an
appetiser, these are the opening words of Chapter One:
‘“You are in a boat with an eminent brain surgeon, a terminally ill woman and your baby niece. The boat begins to sink and you can only save one of them. Which one would you choose?” ‘The Group Captain looked over his half-rim glasses and gave his moustache a twirl as he awaited my reply. It can be imagined that whichever candidate I put forward, this could be challenged by the interrogators. ‘“Well,” I stuttered, “I would save the brain surgeon as he has the potential to save more lives and ...” ‘“But what will you tell your sister about her baby?” ‘Pause! “Well, actually ... I’ll go along with whichever one you say!” This isn’t quite the reply of a future Air Marshal. ‘Not surprisingly I wasn’t accepted for the Royal Air Force College, Cranwell.’ It is 1973. Ten men, in their forties, are sitting around a table in what appears to be a small conference room. There is one younger man present. He seems to be in his twenties but, to some extent, in charge. In the middle of the table there is a, state of the art, tape recorder. It does look as if each of the ten is contributing towards an account of the start, in 1951, of their RAF pilot training. It isn’t a conversation – rather stilted - as each of them is referring to prepared notes. Eddie had been the first to start to relate, for the record, his joining up process. Others would use their words on how they saw the 1950’s selection of pilots and their basic flying training. This meeting occurred some 22 years after an event - that will be revealed - as will be the purpose of this gathering ... |