The smell of whiskey clung to the portly Captains clothes he continued “No problem you don’t have to tell me, not a problem I understand hush hush, you can use our radio and let whom ever it is know your safe Let me take you to our mess its just over there I’ll fix you up with a drink for Christmas and some grub”

They entered the mess and an ancient steward shuffled from the background the captain spoke, “Sergeant, fix our gallant pilot a drink and some grub please, he’s staying the night, nothings moving in this fog” the captain saluted again and turned for the exit door when Barnes said “The Mosquito where is that based? Surely he shouldn’t be flying in this fog its lethal” “Mosquito? What are you talking about old chap the only thing flying tonight is you and your Javelin and Santa claws!” 

Barnes made his phone call to Germany and Scampton then his wife.  A rescue mechanical crew was to be at the base by 10.00am tomorrow to fix the Javelin or take Pilot officer Barnes to Scampton.  Barnes returned to the mess a fire was raging in the hearth and a silver tray was laid out next to a high backed leather chair.  Barnes sunk in the worn arm chair and drunk the pint of bitter and whiskey chaser straight down.

He stood by the fire place warming himself when he spied a black and white photo on the mantle piece, a rather tall pilot was standing in front of a pristine De-Havilland Mosquito, the identification letters were TE/G! he then looked at the pilot, he was tall dark and sporting a huge handle bar moustache! Barnes legs went wobbly he staggered to his chair and sunk down, the steward emerged from the back room and said “I’ve made a bed up for you, its two doors down on your left hope its alright I’ve lit a fire for you I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast”.

 The steward turned to leave when Barnes blurted out “That pilot in the picture and that Mosquito, I saw them tonight they helped me to land I would have had to eject without his help I was running out of fuel, I was blind ,no radio no fixes nothing, but he helped me in to land here tonight!” The steward looked to the ceiling and then to the floor again and said “Your talking about Wing Commander Donald Hudson if that’s him you saw in that picture?  Well you must have been a bit err mistaken sir,”

The steward continued “See I was working here the night he died in 1945 he landed in a fog like this one terrible no vision at all, he was blessed with incredible eye-sight and hearing.  Well known for it he was, he used to go up on nights like this, to help bombers find this aerodrome if they were all shot up and lost, and that was after his path finder operation over Germany!  Thing was he went up one night in a terrible fog to help a Lancaster find our base, and he never came home, he must of crashed run out of fuel most likely, but in a way we feel he’s still here with us!”

Lord Banks [Based on a short story by Roald Dahl