Folks,

At last I can announce the final chapter in the under-whelming saga of the "Flight Instructor" series. I see Dux is passing a bucket around and everyone is taking a large swig of something tasty. Can I have a sip? Why not? Honest men, no one is happier than I that this mess is finally over. Say fellows, it was mighty rude of you chaps to agree with me that way....

Tight Formation
BY: JRT
HWH Continued
Page 237
1/18/04

Welcome back to duty Old Man.

That was a nasty bit of luck we had learning to dive bomb wasn't’t it? Still I have to admit that I enjoyed the view drifting slowly down in my trusty parachute. How about you then? Oh, I forgot. Yes, it was too bad that your chute failed to open wasn't’t it? A real spot of bother was that. You must admit though that it got you down twice as fast as I did. In fact it was hardly a race at all. You may be proud indeed that you well and truly beat your old flight instructor fair and square that time chum. What's that? You say it wasn't a chute at all but a knapsack and that when the first sandwich popped out you just bent over and kissed your arse goodbye.... Imagine that. Perhaps it was that unusual orientation of your body that slowed you down and saved your life?

It seemed that no sooner had my chute opened than you went streaking past leaving a long trail of something behind. I’m afraid that in all the excitement I forgot to ask you before now; what exactly were you screaming at me as you went by? No matter then...if it wasn't’t important we’ll just forget it. We must however agree on one thing for certain. It was a good job that Farmer Drubbin's pigsty was so full of, well you know what it was full of. That thick, stinky stuff completely broke your fall didn’t it? What was that you just mumbled? It also completely broke your what? That dear chappie was an obvious act of Providence so let’s not be ungrateful. Look mate, admit that I was right after all. I told you it would all wash off one day. Sniff, sniff, er, stand over by the open window if you don’t mind. There’s a good chap.

I trust that your fortnight or two of intensive convalescence in that London hospital was both pleasant and successfully therapeutic. May I venture to say that your scars have mended beautifully? Particularly well healed is the long, jagged, purplish one that runs from the crown of your head to the sole of your foot. Got that from the jagged wing tip did you? Yes, we had sustained quite a bit of damage. I was a tad worried about that one I can tell you.

It is amazing what a bit of cosmetic surgery and some bed rest can do isn’t it? We won’t even mention those pretty nurses, eh? What’s that you say? One of those pretty nurses gave you a dose of the what? That’s too bad sport. Still, in your weakened condition what might one expect? There are all manner of nasty, microscopic bugs dripping from every nook and cranny of even the cleanest hospital. What’s that you say? You are quite right I’m sure. Yes, you should have kept your nook out of that particular cranny. That is a colorful way of putting it Old sport. I'm happy to see you haven’t lost that famous sense of humor of yours.

Speaking of losing something, I see that some of your hair is already coming back and the outline of one eyebrow can easily be made out. Why, in no time at all you’ll be your old ugly self again. And may I say what a treat it is to have you as a student pilot once again. Damn bad luck you say? No indeed, not a bit of it, in fact it will be like old times you and I in the dual cockpits again. I have some great news too. We couldn’t find enough pieces of our old Spitfire to put back together so we’ll be flying a brand new Hurricane. Well it is almost new. It has been slightly crashed only twice. Let us therefore recommence your combat flying education at once.

Today we will be practicing something the RAF chaps with egg on their caps really dote upon and that is very close formation flying. You look worried friend. What could be more fun that flying loops and barrel rolls whilst maintaining wing tip to wingtip vic formation locked in perfect harmony with your fellow aviators? Yes, I suppose being locked in the embrace of your sweetheart might be slightly more fun but never as exciting I promise you. Let’s get cracking.

Much later:

OK, sport, now that we are at the prescribed altitude for practicing formation flying you’re probably wondering where are all those fellow aviators we’re supposed to be locked in perfect harmony with, right? Well, to be completely truthful no one would fly with us...er I mean no one was available to fly with us today. You are not to worry. I have it all completely thought out. We don’t need those weasely cowards; umm...I mean we won’t miss those poor overworked chaps. Do you see that large flock of seagulls over to the North? Well we’ll just sidle up close and fly in formation with that lot just so you can get the hang of it.

Here we go. Now doesn’t this Hurri just purr along? I miss the Spitfire of coarse but still the Hurricane is a worthy steed in the right hands. OK, we will soon be just behind and slightly below that large flock of birds. When we finish with this lot we’ll zoom over yonder by that puffy cloud and take up with that crowded formation of birds over there.

OK, you take over now and ease into formation with the flock. Dangerous? How can this be dangerous? Hmmm. Looks like the prop wash is giving the birds some trouble at that. Slip in a littler tighter and... What was that loud SPLAT? There’s another! Good grief man you’ve chewed right into at least ten birds. If one gets into the engine we’re goners for sure.

Bank to starboard and let’s go over by that cloud and try it again with those bigger birds. The engine sounds rough? You know, now that you mention it the engine is running a tiny bit rough at that. Look at all the pretty feathers coming out of the exhaust manifold. That is never a good sign. I’d suspect we had a close call after all. We’ll soar along with that new flock of birds as long as we can. I’ve lost them in the cloud. Keep your eyes peeled, we don’t want to miss them.

Sputtt! Sputt! Sputter! Cough! Twang! Ricochet! Ting!

Well it seems I spoke too soon, as there goes the engine sputtering. Looks like you’ll be practicing making a dead stick landing real soon. At least we know things can’t get much worse than this, can they? Perhaps now that we’ve dropped out of the cloud we’ll spot a good, safe place to set her down? What’s that you just said? No, just before all the cursing. To be precise, I mean what did you say about seeing swastikas painted on the tails of all those other birds....