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“How often?”
“The last I looked, often enough to give me about three hundred hours in one.”
“You are licensed to fly this type aircraft?” Wallace asked dubiously.
Cronley felt anger well up within him, but controlled it.
“I’ve got a commercial ticket which allows me to fly Beech D-18 aircraft under instrument flight rules,” Cronley said calmly.
“So why is it you’re not an Army aviator?”
Cronley’s anger flared, and his mouth went on automatic.
“I wanted to be an Army aviator, but my parents are married and that disqualified me.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.
But the response he got from Army aviator Wilson was not what he expected.
Wilson smiled and shook his head, and said, “Harry, if his flying that C-45 is important, I can give him a quick check ride. To satisfy you. I’m willing to take his word. Actually, he has more time in the Twin Beech than I do.”
“You’re telling me, Cronley,” Wallace said, “that if I told you to get in that C-45 and fly it to Fritzlar, you could do that?”
“I could, but I’d rather have the check ride Colonel Wilson offered first.”
“Bill, how long would that take?”
“Thirty, forty minutes. No more than an hour.”
“Do it,” Wallace ordered. “I’ve got some phone calls to make.”
“Now?”
“Now,” Wallace said. “To coin a phrase, time is of the essence.”
[TWO]
U.S. Air Force Base
Fritzlar, Hesse
American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1615 18 January 1946
“Fritzlar Army Airfield, Air Force Three Niner Niner, a C-45, at five thousand above Homberg, estimate ten miles south. Approach and landing, please,” Cronley said into his microphone.
After a moment, there was a response.
“Air Force Three Niner Niner, this is Fritzlar U.S. Air Force Base. By any chance, are you calling me?”
“Shit,” Cronley said, and then pressed the TALK button. “Fritzlar, Niner Niner, affirmative. Approach and landing, please.”
When he had received and acknowledged approach and landing instructions, Cronley replaced the microphone in the clip holder on the yoke.
Captain C. L. Dunwiddie, who was sitting in the copilot’s seat, asked, “Why do I suspect your best-laid plans have gone agley?”
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