“Sir, I would like to. I wish I could. I don’t want to let down my crew, or my country, or you.” He sighed, partly for effect, partly to keep from losing his composure. “I believe, sir, that if I continue to fly, I will cost my crew their lives.”
Marshall was writing quickly with a pencil on a yellow notepad. He looked up when Del stopped. “So you’re a coward,” he said.
“No—I mean, I’m not sure. It’s just — I’ve been freezing these days, sir. Every trip. Over the target. I can’t help it, sir. I just try to force myself to go, to pull the yoke, but we just fly along, straight and level—” Del stopped his torrent. Marshall continued to stare at him, his mouth grim and tight. There was a long silence. Del suddenly realised that he was still standing at attention. There was no way to relax no
