Friday, August 13, 1948
Friday, August 13, 1948The rain pelted down on Frankfurt. Victor was looking out of the window of the flight office and noticed with trepidation the lake forming where a runway should be. He gazed up at the sky, willing the low-hanging gray clouds to clear away.
Teams of drenched and miserable German workers were getting the Skymaster planes, lined up like a string of beautiful white pearls, ready for flight. Equally drenched airmen boarded their crafts, waiting for the next scheduled bloc, when they’d all take off at ninety-second intervals.
Victor had the misfortune to be scheduled to board one of the planes together with his new CO General Tunner. The door opened and in came Tunner with a pilot, presumably the one who’d fly them to Berlin. Victor barely suppre
