Have there been many girls who first heard a man confess his love and offer her his hand in the cockpit of a strategic bomber? The two had now set off on a great journey, a flight that they would take together. The lieutenant and the interpreter sat in the pilots’ chairs, and the cramped cabin of the Flying Fortress suddenly seemed to be their secret refuge, like a closed arbor in a garden or an abandoned building where lovers met, hidden from the gaze of others. Time seemed to have slipped strangely off its rails and was running now in quite some other way. The war was no more; things were changing for the better. Ah, life moves in peculiar zigzags, and the twists and turns of fate boggle the mind.
There is something strangely unsettling about planes, one will agree, by taking people out
