Chapter 3
Mission 24: Frankfurt
March 21, 1944As they sat on the tarmac, the snow began to fall.
“f**k,” Del said. “Look at it.”
“Probably scrub it,” Gord answered. They were about tenth in line for takeoff.
“I can’t see any paste on the wings,” Del said. “Are you sure they did us?”
“There’s plenty of paste. It’s a foot thick, for Christ’s sake.”
“I can’t see it.” Del strained in the dim winter twilight. “You’re sure.”
“Del,” Gord said, an edge in his voice. Del turned to look at him, surprised.
“It’s okay,” Gord said, staring straight into him. “They pasted us. We’re fine.”
“Okay,” Del said, but continued to study the wings, first one, then the other.
“Calm down, Del,” Gord said, after a few more minutes of waiting.
“The snow’s starting to stick,” Del answered.
Gord whacked h
