Folks,

The Telegram

Wing leaders SNAFU, Bader and Old Dux stood in silent disbelief. They were gazing down upon a crumpled sheet of beige paper where it lay on an old walnut desk. Around it lay several other items that had arrived at the same time in a separate parcel.

There was a gold pocket watch that was more like a locket lying open. Inside you could make out a slightly tarnished photo of a pretty young woman. There were two other photos. One was of a pilot in flight dress. The other was of a man in a blue business suit. Next to these lay an aviator's watch and two bone-white dice made of ivory.

These three brave men, all heroes of the Battle of Britain, were on much deserved leave. Bader and SNAFU were the guests of Old Dux on his broad family estate in Derbyshire.

You would have thought the piece of paper were a poisonous snake the way each man seemed to be afraid to pick it up; yet none could pull their eyes from it.

The subject of their concentrated gaze was a telegram from the war department confirming what they already suspected. One of their own would not be coming back.

Meanwhile, somewhere between reality and that misty, gray area that we all suspect is just beyond our mortal perception, a meeting is taking place between two men. You need not know their names. They might be anyone.

Hello friend. I am happy to meet you. You seem a bit bewildered. Pull up a cloud and let’s set a spell to watch that beautiful sunset. I see that you are a pilot like me. You are no stranger to the beauty of the sky then? I thought not. No one appreciates the beauty of this world better than an aviator does. We see so much of it and all at one time.

Look over there, something is just entering the setting orb of the sun. Do you see that speck? It is turning toward us and growing larger now by the second. Hmmm. It seems to be a flight of aircraft. Bombers, I think, from the formation. Thank you, my eyesight has always been exceptional. I see you’re a fighter pilot. Your eyesight must be extraordinary as well?

Well, in fact it is a large flight of bombers. I’d say they are HE111s and from the look of them they have been in quite a scrap. Look there, several are trailing smoke. Another seems to be losing altitude fast. I don’t think that one will make it to France, do you? Yes, the sound is rather loud now; they are coming abreast of us. We’ll have to shout. What’s that? No, I don’t think they see us.

Yes, I saw that smoking straggler go in. That was quite a splash wasn’t it? Parachutes? I count four. Only four.

Let’s move a bit. The clouds are bunching up and we will see better over there. Now, isn’t that better? My friend you are crying. Why are you so sad? Do not worry. Those fellows will be all right. Take my word for it. For them as for us the worst is over, I assure you.

Notice how the setting sun glints on the bomber’s tails and turns their canopies to gold. Most of them are going to make it home tonight. Most of their attackers are safe as well. The bombers were overwhelmed and did little damage at all. How do I know all this? Frankly, I’m not sure. I simply know it.

Well, that’s about it. The show’s over and it’s time for us to leave this place. Walk with me into that bright light, my fair-haired young friend, and tell me how you won your Iron Cross. Yes, that is the DFC on my tunic. How kind it is of you to notice.

What light you ask? Quite right, the sun has set now, but that is not the light of which I speak. Just close you eyes now and you will see it.

THE END



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"Blessed are they who expect nothing.
For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"