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<Name>
Intro
<Description>
Later that night.
There she was, waiting for me by the wall in her blue dress. She smiled when she saw me approach. I slowed down to a walk and tried to catch my breath. I was only 4 minutes late.
“Hello flyboy,” she said, “are those for me?”
“Yes, madam.” I handed her the flowers in an overly formal manner. She laughed.
“Are we really going to fly today?”
“Well, let’s go into the hangar. I’ll show you what it’s like.”
She smiled and held my hand. My heart sank.
I showed her a Spitfire, told her about the control surfaces and the engine and the guns. She swung the rudder and ran her finger down the flap and looked inside the muzzles. I could hear her breathing heavily. I did not dare put my arm around her.
“And there’s the cockpit door.” I climbed onto the wing, and held out my hand. She followed me. The Spitfire’s wing dipped under our weight.
I sat down onto the bucket seat, so strange with no parachute pack. I showed her how the stick moved the controls, showed her the levers and the gauges and the gunsight.
“Are you going to start it up?” she asked.
I paused and then said “Well you’d better get inside then.”
Without hesitation she sat across my lap and pushed my knee away so she could bring her feet inside. “Ooh,” she said, and struggled to close the cockpit door. I helped. It was the tightest fit I could ever imagine.
“Oh, what are we doing?” She asked and looked straight at me. I put my arms around her, squeezed her tight, and began to lean in for a kiss. “Wait,” she said, “you just wait! What do you think you got me in here for? Aren’t we going to fly?”
“I’m sorry!” I said.
I don’t know how we started the engine. I could barely reach the stick, and its movement was cut in half by our knees. I couldn’t see the dashboard. I couldn’t see outside. The canopy didn’t close over her head.
I taxied towards the far end of the runway. Fumes filled the cockpit, and evening breeze rustled her hair. She screamed with horror or with delight, I couldn’t tell.
Surely there, at the runway threshold, court martial and other untold horrors awaited me. Why then was I so happy?
<Caption>
Royal Air Force Campaign
Mission 17
September 17, 1940
Player Plane: Supermarine Spitfire (single-seat fighter)
Impress Florence.
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