THE PILOT

By WACLAW SOLSKI

JAN WOLSKI, a pilot in the Polish Air Force, came to London on leave and called on his friends, the Krupinskis. It was 8 o'clock in the evening. The Krupinskis lived in a modern block of flats. They had two rooms, one of which was a bedroom and the other a sitting-room. In addition there was a vestibule with a biggish hall-stand. While hanging his cap up, Wolski noticed half a dozen overcoats and a number of ladies' wraps.

" I invited some friends specially to meet you," said Krupinski. "You'll have to tell then-. all about how you shoot down the Germans. I hear you've already accounted for six machines."

" Only five," replied Wolski, who was a stickler for accuracy. "Five certain and one probable."

In the sitting-room he was treated to cake and Turkish coffee. There ensued a brisk exchange of opinions. Mr. Nowak asserted that the best coffee was obtainable at the Hotel Europa in Warsaw, while Mr. Sten plumped for the Bristol. One of the guests declared that he had drunk excellent coffee in Rumania, but he met with no credence. Mrs. Krupinska informed the company that the English have no idea how to make coffee. Mr. Krupinski associated himself with this view, whereupon he asked Wolski to relate some of his experiences.

" So you're in the Air Force," remarked Mrs. Borowska at this juncture. " That's frightfully interesting. And how brave you must be! "

" A friend of mine was an airman," put in Mr. Nowak, " but that was during the last war. An amazing chap. I ran into him in Warsaw one day at about four in the afternoon and asked him whether he didn't feel bored walking about in the street instead of flying, and he said he did. It's an absolute fact! But Um afraid I'm butting in."

" Aviation today is nothing like what it was in the last war," said Mr. Sokolowski. " Take just one instance : in those days flying was done singly, whereas now you have group-flying in the shape of a letter V. And do you know why? It's been discovered that the pressure of the wind is much smaller that way." " Yes, and the bombs were of a different kind," added Mr. Miklis. " They used to be smaller and weaker."

" But how do the pilots manage to find their way back to the airfield? " enquired Mr. Lipinski. " I can see more or less how they manage it in the day-time, but what about the night? "

" There's nothing difficult about that," said Mr. Mikus. " Every pilot has a compass and chart and a wireless set as well. An officer at the airfield keeps on sending him short-wave messages about the weather, and the pilot is never really at a loss. And if the compass fails to work, he takes his bearings by the voice. He recognises the voice of the officer at the airfield and flies straight ahead as safe as houses. The most difficult thing is to land in the darkness, but our boys are regular dabs at landing. Aren't they, Mr. Wolski? "

" Oh, rather," replied Wolski. " In point of fact, as regards land ing—" " We'd rather you told us about how you do the bombing! " exclaimed Mrs. Sokolowska. " That must be frightfully thrilling. But why don't you bomb Berlin every day and every night, twenty- four hours on end? "

" The bombing of Berlin depends on strategic plans," explained Mr. Mikus. " They only carry out the bombing when it's provided for as a part of the plan."

"I was reading not long ago in a newspaper that the most difficult problem is due to what they call icing," said Mr. Nowak• "Once when I was at Zakopane in the mountains during a terribly cold spell I happened to meet Bolkowski—"

" Which Bolkowski? " enquired Mr. Mikus. " Stefan? "

"No, of course not. Vladek, the one who was with the Industrial and Commercial Bank."

" But that's Stefan. Vladek Bolkowski never used to go to Zakopane."

"Don't talk such nonsense. He used to go there every year for the ski-ing. Why, I was one of Vladek's closest friends. When he lived in Polna Street—" " That was later on. At first he lived in Chopin Street."

" You must be mixing him up with Tarski. Anyhow, we were talking about the progress of flying, and Bolkowski said that aviation has a magnificent future. But, in my opinion, icing will always be a worry to airmen. That's right, Mr. Wolski, isn't it? "

" Oh yes, undoubtedly," assented Wolski. " As regarding icing, in point of fact—" " Do you know, I went to the cinema yesterday and saw a perfectly lovely film," exclaimed Mrs. Sokolowska. " Actually, it was all about airmen. That good-looking actor was in it—Flynn or some such name ; quite a young fellow, very tall he is and broad- shouldered. Just fancy, everything that happens to him was fore- told when he was a child, and he has a fight in the air with a German whom he'd known in America before the war ; first he hits one of his wings with a burst of shots from a machine-gun and then his engine. Oh, it was absolutely thrilling. I wonder whether it was the real thing or just faked in a studio."

" Well, suppose we have a round of bridge," suggested Mr. Sten.

And they started playing. They asked Wolski to stay, but he begged to be excused on the pretext that his time was short.

Mr. Krupinski accompanied him into the vestibule, shook hands with him heartily and thanked him for telling them such interesting details about flying. He was about to say something else, but he was called back into the sitting-room as the cards had been dealt out

In the vestibule there was a mirror. Wolski gazed into the mirror and noticed that his face had gone slightly red. This rather surprised him, and he couldn't help smiling a shade wryly. Then he shrugged his shoulders and set off home.