You are, you are assured, somewhere over France. But whereabouts, your guess is as good as anyone’s. Beyond the small windows of the Lockheed Hudson all you can make out is darkness, and one patch of darkness looks like any other. Suddenly that darkness is broken by five patches of light that seem to burst into life. Five fires that should outline the drop zone. Five fires that show you are expected, and that friends wait below.
The converted bomber passes over the fires, then turns back.
“Green light, good luck chaps”
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