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By Root 924 0

Stratton could feel the wind not just blowing into his face but being sucked past him and through the propellers. He squinted ahead, wiping his eyes quickly as they started to water. He would have put on his goggles but he had greater priorities at that moment. His hands tightened on the rifle and framework. His thoughts flashed to his harness quick release. He considered releasing it there and then. If they took off, he wouldn’t need it. If they hit the drink, he didn’t want to be fighting with it, but crashing into the sea without it might be enough to knock him out. The problems of dropping off the end into the sea multiplied. They would have to get out of the framework as quickly as possible, not just because the craft would probably sink like a stone but also because the ship would run into them and they might get sucked below and through the propellers. These were not the best thoughts to be having seconds before reaching the end of the runway and he had Downs to thank for inspiring them.

Metres before the end of the deck the glider rose up and left the surface a few inches then dropped back down with a heavy bump.

They reached the end, the wheels still rolling along on the deck.

The craft went over the lip and dropped out of sight to everyone on deck watching it.

The pit of Stratton’s stomach turned to mush as the glider dropped. He gripped the frame, his knuckles turning white as the sea came up to meet them. Downs pulled back so hard on the joystick it threatened to rip out. But the increased speed of falling off the end was all the craft needed to provide that extra lift and it levelled out a couple of metres above the wave tops. Stratton realised he had stopped breathing. He looked back to see the sharp end of the ship not all that far away. The important thing was that the wet stuff was still below them.

Downs gradually brought the nose up and increased the height until they got level with the deck of the ship again.

Stratton could hear another sound above the engine and the wind. It was Downs giving off a loud yell.

Stratton leaned forward. ‘Did you enjoy that?’ he shouted.

‘If I hadn’ta crapped my pants when we went off the end, I might’ve enjoyed it more than I did!’

Stratton sat back and had to smile. It felt like a form of release. He looked back over his shoulder again to see another craft below them and dangerously close to the water. But it managed to level out and gain height.

Downs brought the craft up to about a hundred feet while making a gentle bank to the left. After a short turn, he reversed the manoeuvre, banking over to the right. After coming back on to the main heading, he did the turns again, the zig-zagging intended to slow the glider’s progress without reducing their speed and to allow the tail-enders to catch up.

Within a few minutes all of the gliders had got off the Ocean. When Stratton next looked back, he could barely make out the others in the darkness. But they were all able to see his glider. Every craft had a navigation light on its rear, positioned in a device that only allowed it to be seen from behind and level with it or from above it.

Every pilot carried a GPS that provided a pre-programmed direction as well as a minimum height alarm.

‘All stations, this is Downs, radio check,’ Downs said into his radio.

One by one each pilot reported in.

‘Downs, roger that,’ Downs said at the end.

Stratton made an effort to relax. The wind whipped his hair about. His eyes no longer wept. It had something very tranquil about it. And surreal. What they were doing, or about to do, gave him a buzz at the same time as it sobered everything right up. People were going to die in the next hour or so. Hopefully that would be the enemy only but the chances had to be high that the squadron would lose someone. Maybe a few.

It was an innovative attack, that was for sure. They weren’t in jet helicopters crammed with sophisticated navigation, communications and visual aids. They were in metal tubes under nylon wings and using engines about as powerful as a lawnmower’s, with a wooden propeller