Jay A. Stout - Vanished hero.

Vanished hero. — read online for free the complete book (whole text) full work

Below is the text of the book, divided by pages. System saving the place of the last page read, allows you to conveniently read the book "Vanished hero." online for free, without having to search again every time where you left off. Put a bookmark, and you can go to the page where you finished reading at any time.

Light

Font size:

↓

↑

Georgia Tahoma Arial Verdana

Reset

Interval:

↓

↑

Bookmark:

Make

1234567...76

Contents

Guide

Pagebreaks of the print version

Published in the United States of America and Great Britain in 2016 by
CASEMATE PUBLISHERS
1950 Lawrence Road, Havertown, PA 19083, USA
and
10 Hythe Bridge Street, Oxford OX1 2EW, UK

Jay Stout 2016

Hardcover Edition: ISBN 978-1-61200-395-5
Digital Edition: ISBN 978-1-61200-396-2 (epub)

A CIP record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher in writing.

Printed and bound in the United States of America.

For a complete list of Casemate titles, please contact:

CASEMATE PUBLISHERS (US)
Telephone (610) 853-9131
Fax (610) 853-9146
Email:
www.casematepublishers.com

CASEMATE PUBLISHERS (UK)
Telephone (01865) 241249
Fax (01865) 794449
Email:
www.casematepublishers.co.uk

Especially for the fiercest of our fighting menthose who actively seek out our enemies, find them and kill them.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION: ILL SEE YOU WHEN I GET BACK

The jeep squeaked to a stop. The pilot sat motionless in the passengers seat and stared straight ahead, drawing slow, weary breaths. All at once he grunted, sat upright, grabbed his flying gear and stepped onto the damp ground. The jeep immediately crunched into gear and scooted away as he started toward his aircraft.

Block letters across the sleek fighters nose marked it as Katydid. It was named after his wife, Cathryn. Next to the name, a voluptuous, green caricature of a winged katydid struck a pose. Bare-breasted, long-legged, and high-heeled, the implausible but undeniably sexy figure conveyed a distinctly flirtatious look.

A crew chief fussed with a balky set of fasteners on the P-51s underside. The pilot watched him for a moment before moving unhurriedly around the aircraft to confirm that everything was as it should be. Satisfied, he leaned over and checked once more on the enlisted man.

A brisk English breeze chilled the morning and the pilot stood upright and zipped his jacket against it. He reached for his leather helmet and pulled it on. After so many months of combat it was stiff with dried sweat and it stank, but the snugness of it was nevertheless familiar and comforting. He pulled the goggles that were fastened to the helmet over his eyes to make certain they were clean. Through them, across the airfield, he saw dozens of other pilots and ground crews readying for the days mission.

He lifted the goggles back onto his helmet, stepped onto the fighters left wing and up to the cockpit. There, he grabbed the top of the windscreen, stepped over the canopy sill and eased his athletic frame down into the seat. A quick glance at the myriad gauges, switches, knobs and levers confirmed to him that the aircraft was ready to start.

He waited a moment for the crew chief to come out from under the airplane to help him with the buckles and straps of his parachute. The man didnt appear and the pilot tired of waiting. He sighed and called out, Sergeant! Sergeant, come help me with my parachute.

The crew chief, Don Downes, was still busy with the fasteners. If you cant put on the goddamned chute, you cant fly the plane, he shouted.

The pilots request changed to a demand. Sergeant! Come up here and help me with my parachute!

Exasperated, Downes scrabbled out from under the P-51. His eyes widened when he looked up to the cockpit. Rather than a fresh-faced, shavetail lieutenant, he discovered that the pilot wore oak leaves as big as basketballs, and packed a .45 caliber pistol in a shoulder harness. The man to whom he had just mouthed off was the 55th Fighter Groups commander, Lieutenant Colonel Elwyn G. Righetti. Righetti, a celebrated ace, was in charge of not only the 55th and its airfield at Wormingford, but virtually everything and everyone on it, including Downes.

Downes leapt onto the wing and apologized as he bent over and helped his commander settle into the cockpit. Finished, he stood upright. Righetti fixed him with a look that left no doubt that his displeasure had not passed. Ill see you when I get back.

The deep-throated thrum of the P-51s engine vibrated the airframe with a gentle tremble that made it feel as if it were a living thing. Righetti loved the Mustang and especially liked how it seemed to wrap itself around him as if it were a bespoke suit, custom tailored by artisans. No other aircraft had cradled him so perfectly and there was no other fighter in the world he wanted to fly. Aside from the feel of it, the gas and oil and metal reek of the muscular little fighter comprised a unique perfume. And no flying machine could match its sleek good looksa striking balance of purposeful power and aerodynamic efficiency.

Righetti looked across the airfield where dozens of other P-51s also sat idling. They waited for his lead. Some of the fighters, like his own silvery aircraft, wore scarcely any paint at all. Their propeller spinners were circled with green and yellow stripes and the fronts of their engine cowlings wore similarly colored, checkered bands. These were identification markings specific to the 55th. But a few of the aircraft were partially painted with a sweeping olive drab pattern that covered the wings and ran back from the engine cowling, and then stretched down the top of the fuselage to the empennage. The unsanctioned scheme accented the aircrafts trim lines and was unique to the 55th. The tails of a few of the Mustangs wore the profile of a rearing stallion on their rudders.

Righetti checked his wristwatch against the slip of paper strapped to his knee. It was marked with important particulars about the days mission such as the takeoff and rendezvous times, the route, the markings of the bomber units that were to be escorted and the expected weatheramong other important information. The slip was marked with the date, April 17, 1945. It was his thirtieth birthday and he reflected for a moment on his wife and young daughter. They would be asleep now, at home near San Luis Obispo on the ranch where he had been born and raised.

The 55th was assigned to escort B-17s of the Eighth Air Forces 3d Air Division across targets in Dresden, not far from Germanys border with Czechoslovakia. In fact, the war was nearly over and there was little promise of air combat as the Allies had beaten the German Air Forcethe Luftwaffenearly out of existence. Indeed, the Nazis were expected to surrender, or be completely overrun, during the next few weeks. It was a timeframe that neatly corresponded with the end of Righettis combat tour as he had to fly only a few more missions before reaching the three hundred combat hours required to rotate back to the States. Regardless, he had been growing increasingly exhausted and was ready for it all to be over.

Righetti nodded at Downes who, careful to stay away from the spinning propeller, ran under the aircraft and dragged the wheel chocks clear. Checking ahead and behind him, Righetti released the fighters brakes, added power and rolled from the hardstand onto the airfields perimeter track. He returned the salute that Downes threw at him and started for the runway.

The P-51s nose blocked his view forward and Righetti stepped on one rudder pedal, then the other, fishtailing the little fighter back and forth across the track so that he could better see what was in front of him. Other aircraft left their hardstands, likewise weaving, as they fell into a long, snaking line behind him. Crew chiefs, armorers and other support personnel held tightly to their hats and shielded their eyes against the blast of propeller-blown dust and debris.

Next page

1234567...76

Light

Font size:

↓

↑

Georgia Tahoma Arial Verdana

Reset

Interval:

↓

↑

Bookmark:

Make

Similar books «Vanished hero.»

Look at similar books to Vanished hero.. We have selected literature similar in name and meaning in the hope of providing readers with more options to find new, interesting, not yet read works.

Rex Stout

Instead of Evidence

Rex Stout

Before I Die

Ruth Stout

Gardening Without Work

LeVack

Stout Beer Dessert: 27 Dessert recipes that include Stout beer

Rex Stout

And Four To Go

Rex Stout

And Be a Villain

Rex Stout

The Second Confession

Rex Stout

Plot It Yourself

Rex Stout

Too Many Women

Rex Stout

The Red Box

Rex Stout

A Family Affair (The Rex Stout Library)

Rex Stout

Under The Andes

Discussion, reviews of the book Vanished hero. and just readers' own opinions. Leave your comments, write what you think about the work, its meaning or the main characters. Specify what exactly you liked and what you didn't like, and why you think so.