The Wings of Pegasus by George Chatterton

Chapter 4, Sicily 1943

I drove down to the strip in my jeep with my Batman, Alec Gol, accompanied by the brigade

commander Pip Hicks, the senior medical officer and various staff officers.

Silver Wings glinting in the sun, thirty decoters and wake-o-gliders were waiting the signal

to take off.

The signal was the leading glider, and as I climbed into the cockpit with Peter Harding,

my agitant and second pilot, I looked down at the face of Alec Gol for what I thought

might be the last time.

It was a tense moment.

There was a strong wind blowing, the light was hard and brittle, and great waves seemed

to leap into the air at the far end of the runway.

As the signal to take off was given, the propellers of the decoters started up with a

whirl, dust flew off the runway and whipped into the air, and the tug slowly moved into

position.

By stopping the controls, I gave the thumbs-up signal, the rope taught and, and I heard

over the intercom, the faint sound of the decoter pilot's voice.

But the crackling and interference was so bad from the beginning to end of the trip

that we were never able to hear each other clearly.

We moved slowly forward, then faster and faster across the dusty strip until suddenly the

decoter disappeared in the dust, and I was forced to hold the glider in position by

the tow-rope's angle.

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