Post by Charles Norris on Mar 3, 2009 4:17:32 GMT
It was an odd sight, a young man in both full Royal Air Force dress uniform with Captain‘s bars, and full beard, standing around looking puzzled. But if there was one thing the business had taught WC Stanley Hawkins, odd sights meant for good stories.
“Excuse me,” Stanley called out to the man as he leapt from the parked jeep he had been relaxing in, and with his photographer behind him, walked over and stuck out his hand, “You wouldn’t be Captain Norris, Charles Norris, would you?”
“It’s Flight Lieutenant Charles Norris. Same rank, different air corp.” Charles tried to give the open hand a strong, Texas shake, but the moment their hands clasped Hawkins struck a pose as the photographer’s flashbulb popped. “Do you know where the Commanding NCO of Delta Company is?”
Charles wasn’t sure what to make of War Correspondent Hawkins, but if it was to make the ladies and 4Fs back home happy, he better do it, cause everyone knows that the moral on the home front is what’s most important, “Fine, but only if you can take me to the Ranking NCO here and we can talk as we walk.” Although Charles had been born under the Lone Star of Texas, he had spent most of his life in Pennsylvania, and so his accent had became smooth, with just a slight twang that had always impress the girls back in North Weald Bassett, the small town near his Eagle Squadron station.
“Alright, well he’s probably in the barracks, Mike was just taking some shots there. You remember where it is?” Stoic Mike Rockford nodded and started walking towards a mess of whitewashed buildings. Smiling, Stanley pulled a pad and pencil and followed, along with Charles, “Alright, Flight Lieutenant Norris, let’s get down to business. Tell me, why do you think you were made a Flight Lieutenant?”
“Because everyone else with better qualifications are dead.” The war hadn’t made Charles rough, growing up in the Great Depression did.
“Okay… The only man alive with his abilities.” Stanley mumbled to himself as he wrote down the Sunday Morning version, “Alright, what sort of responsibilities are you going to have in Delta Company? Do you like plan sweeps and bombing runs, that sort of thing?”
“I will have a hand in that, but my main responsibility is to keep my men alive as long as possible. And when they do die, and they all do eventually, I have to write the letters.”
“Hmm… The responsibility of each and every one of his men rests on his shoulders.” Stanley added another tagline to his journal, and missed Mike opening the door to the barracks and letting Charles walk inside. “Hey, you couldn’t have walked a little slower?” Stanley whispered as he followed Mike in.
One by one, as each man noticed the two bars on their guest’s sleeve, they stood up like backwards dominoes. Charles gazed over the men who stood at attention. They weren’t just men, they were his men, and like he had said to the reporter, their lives were in his hands. In each of them Charles saw his comrades from the Eagle Squadron. The ones who had died in battle with the Germans. A few had died defending their homeland from invading aggressors, but most, like himself, had answered the call to duty for a stranger’s country.
The spell casted over F/L Norris was only broken when Mike’s flashbulb popped again, lighting up the small room with a sharp white light for a mere instant. Charles looked back at the reporters standing behind him in the barracks, then back at the men, “Alright men, at ease, I’m looking for the Flight Sergeant, the commanding NCO, is he here?”
“Excuse me,” Stanley called out to the man as he leapt from the parked jeep he had been relaxing in, and with his photographer behind him, walked over and stuck out his hand, “You wouldn’t be Captain Norris, Charles Norris, would you?”
“It’s Flight Lieutenant Charles Norris. Same rank, different air corp.” Charles tried to give the open hand a strong, Texas shake, but the moment their hands clasped Hawkins struck a pose as the photographer’s flashbulb popped. “Do you know where the Commanding NCO of Delta Company is?”
Charles wasn’t sure what to make of War Correspondent Hawkins, but if it was to make the ladies and 4Fs back home happy, he better do it, cause everyone knows that the moral on the home front is what’s most important, “Fine, but only if you can take me to the Ranking NCO here and we can talk as we walk.” Although Charles had been born under the Lone Star of Texas, he had spent most of his life in Pennsylvania, and so his accent had became smooth, with just a slight twang that had always impress the girls back in North Weald Bassett, the small town near his Eagle Squadron station.
“Alright, well he’s probably in the barracks, Mike was just taking some shots there. You remember where it is?” Stoic Mike Rockford nodded and started walking towards a mess of whitewashed buildings. Smiling, Stanley pulled a pad and pencil and followed, along with Charles, “Alright, Flight Lieutenant Norris, let’s get down to business. Tell me, why do you think you were made a Flight Lieutenant?”
“Because everyone else with better qualifications are dead.” The war hadn’t made Charles rough, growing up in the Great Depression did.
“Okay… The only man alive with his abilities.” Stanley mumbled to himself as he wrote down the Sunday Morning version, “Alright, what sort of responsibilities are you going to have in Delta Company? Do you like plan sweeps and bombing runs, that sort of thing?”
“I will have a hand in that, but my main responsibility is to keep my men alive as long as possible. And when they do die, and they all do eventually, I have to write the letters.”
“Hmm… The responsibility of each and every one of his men rests on his shoulders.” Stanley added another tagline to his journal, and missed Mike opening the door to the barracks and letting Charles walk inside. “Hey, you couldn’t have walked a little slower?” Stanley whispered as he followed Mike in.
One by one, as each man noticed the two bars on their guest’s sleeve, they stood up like backwards dominoes. Charles gazed over the men who stood at attention. They weren’t just men, they were his men, and like he had said to the reporter, their lives were in his hands. In each of them Charles saw his comrades from the Eagle Squadron. The ones who had died in battle with the Germans. A few had died defending their homeland from invading aggressors, but most, like himself, had answered the call to duty for a stranger’s country.
The spell casted over F/L Norris was only broken when Mike’s flashbulb popped again, lighting up the small room with a sharp white light for a mere instant. Charles looked back at the reporters standing behind him in the barracks, then back at the men, “Alright men, at ease, I’m looking for the Flight Sergeant, the commanding NCO, is he here?”
