Sgt. McGee wanders into the smoky briefing room with a brown worn leather folder case under his arm. The American Ops officer motions him to his disk. Captain Walters is an overweight man long past his prime. With a constant look of sweat and fatigue, his wheezing and gasps are separated by puffs on his corn pipe. His southern drawl is a clear indicator of his youthful days on the Mississippi.
"Ya'll have a seat here Mr. McGee and show whatcha got in dat der folder."
McGee, a tall young slim prairie boy from Grand Prairie Alberta, has the look of a weary day walks over to his desk. Being a recon photo tech, his shifts inside the belly of his Mosquito often leave little time for sleep. His pilot, the short and stocky Lt. Kalochuk from Toronto, is standing just outside the door talking to a pretty uniformed female assistant.
"Sir, Lt. Kalochuk and I took these this morning over the north east sector just past the missile factory by on Rhine. If you look closely in the top right, that airfield is currently not used by the Luftwaffe. Take a closer at this photo." McGee passes Walters another photo, a B&W close-up of the airfield. "What does that look like to you sir?"
Walters takes a couple of puffs on his pipe and leans back into his chair holding the large photo close to his face.
"Well, aye s'apose it could be a few thi'ns. First of all Sgt.McGee, if ya look over here, I'da guess that be a fighter han'gare. But..."
Walters put the photo on the table and grabs the magnifying glass lamp, pulling down the old brass arm closer to the photo, he looks directly into the viewing glass. “Dat dere boy is a too-sixty-too. Dere must be at least twenty ore tirty of dem flyin rockets. Mayers!”
Pvt. Mayers is Walters model-like secretary. The young belle of the Ops centre, her gorgeous face and ice blue eyes made most men stop in their tracks. Her short height does little to stop the presence in the room she usually demands. To add icing to her cake, Mayers warm British school grammar voice pronounces elegance yet with a harsh undertone of a wolf in a sheep’s skin. “Sir?” she responds.
“Fetch Lt. Kalochuk little miss and bring ya stencil.”
Mayers walks around the Ops table and outside the office. The blond headed Kalochuk pokes his head through the door and wanders over to the desk where Walters and McGee are. “Reporting sir.” McGee walks to Mayers desk as she re-enters the Ops centre,
“Kalochuk, whats da locashun of this phota?”
“Well sir, Sgt. McGee could have given you that information.”
“McGee!”
McGee walks back from chatting with Mayers. She winks at McGee as he saunters back pulling files from her cabinet and gets back to work. “Yes Sir?”
“Do ya have de locashun Sergeant of these lovely two six tooes?”
McGee puts his hands in his pockets and lowers his voice, bending down ear level to Walters and whispers “I would sir, but the Royal Canadian Air Force hasn’t authorized me to release that information yet. I thought I’d give you a heads up sir in case you wanted to change your evenings briefing. General Bishop was talking to Montgomery and Eisenhower when I left the HQ photo room about capturing the field. You can expect the details in the XO’s report.”
Walters leans back in his chair, “Capture eh? We’ll call me Dick Tracy but ya’ll bein stubborn not tellen me now. What can ya tell me?”
McGee looks at Kalochuk who shrugs his shoulders in a ‘I don’t care’ and then leans down to Walters, “well sir, let’s say that the location would be considered by most to be unlucky, very unlucky.”
“Mayers” Walters bellows out, “get your pen ready for writin missy, we got ourselves a misshun tonight”
