“Four Three Three, Cairo. The winds are from the north at ten, gusting to twenty. Visibility is unlimited. The altimeter is Two Niner Niner Niner. Descend to three thousand feet and report when you have the airfield in sight.”
“Cairo, Pour Three Three. Understand three thousand,” Darmstadter said, and hung his microphone up.
Then Dolan’s voice came over his earphones, and he turned and saw that he had his microphone in front of his lips.
“Cairo,” Dolan said.
“Four Three Three. Four Three Three is Ninth Air Force flight Four Zero Five. Acknowledge.”
Darmstadter wondered what the hell that meant. It didn’t surprise the Cairo tower.
“Four Three Three,” the operator with the Brooklyn accent said, “Cairo.
Roger your Flight Four Zero Five.”
Darmstadter could see three large pyramidal structures to his left.
My God, those are the pyramids!! The real ones!
And then he looked to his left and picked up his microphone again.
“Cairo, Four Three Three, I am at four thousand five hundred. I have the field in sight.”
“Pour Three Three, Cairo. Maintain present course and rate of descent.
You are cleared as number one to land on Runway Three Four. The altimeter is Two Niner Niner Niner. The winds are from the north at ten, gusting to fifteen.
Report on final.”
“Four Three Three, roger.”
Darmstadter looked at Dolan as he reached for the throttle quadrant. Now there was a sort of dazed look on his face. And he had not reached for the plastic sealed landing checkoff list hanging from the instrument panel.
Darmstadter realized that he was going to have to land the airplane himself, without help. But he was more concerned about Dolan’s condition than he was about getting the flaps and gear down without help.
He turned to the right, then the left.
“Cairo, Four Three Three on final.”
“Roger, Four Three Three. You are number one to land. Look out for the C-47 on the threshold.”
Darmstadter put on twenty degrees of flaps, then lowered the gear. He came in low and slow and put it on the ground within a hundred yards of the threshold.
“Four Three Three on the ground.”
“Four Three Three, take Taxiway Five, a Follow Me will meet you.”
“Roger,” Darmstadter said.
Taxiway Five was the last turnoff. As he taxied down the runway to it, Darmstadter saw a jeep racing down a taxiway parallel to the runway. The jeep was painted in a black-and-white checkerboard pattern, with a huge checkerboard flag above it flapping in the wind.
When he turned the B-25 off the runway, the jeep was there waiting for him. It led him to a remote corner of the field. There was a large hangar there whose doors were being opened as they arrived.
The Follow Me jeep stopped, and a ground handler hopped out and signaled for Darmstadter to move to the hangar doors. When the nose of the B-25 was ten feet from them, he gave the throat-cutting sign to stop engines.
Immediately, a dozen GIs came out of the hangar and manhandled the B-25 inside the hangar. Darmstadter sensed, from the decreasing light inside the hangar, that the doors were being closed.
He looked at Dolan.
“You all right, Commander?” he asked.
“The word you have to keep in mind, Darmstadter,” Dolan said, “is ‘indigestion.”
Am I going to have trouble with you about that?”
“No, Sir,” Darmstadter said after a moment.
“Thank you,” Dolan said, simply and sincerely..
“What happens now?” Darmstadter asked.
“I don’t know,” Dolan said.
“Canidy gave me that “Flight Four Zero Five’ , message just before we took off. I expect somebody will show up shortly. In i the meantime, you might have them start to refuel it.” i When Darmstadter dropped from the belly of the B-25, he saw that there were two military policemen, armed with Thompson submachine guns, guarding the airplane. And there was a captain, wearing an AOD (Aerodrome Officer of the Day) brassard.
Darmstadter walked over to him and saluted.
“I’d like to get this fueled,” he said.
“Someone will be along for you shortly, Lieutenant,” the AOD said.
“In the meantime, nothing comes into, or goes out of, this hangar.”