The sound of sputteringMerlin Aircraftengines rang in the fuzz-covered ears of Cotswald B. Chevre, the local barn cat. He, as his name suggests, lives in a barn about ahalf kilometer (about a half-mile) away, and everyday for thelast six months Cotswald had spent all of his spare time around the airbase, operated by some people called “The Brits.” He hadalways enjoyed watching the people come and go, but now itseemed they were leaving for good.The Brits’ hangars and were boarded up, all of their planes weresitting there at the end of the runway, engines roaring, but notgoing anyplace. Cotswald sniffled at the dust being kicked up by the planes engines, he had perched himself just a little behind the fence that separated the farm and the Brits’ airbase, butwithout going behind a shrub or up a tree to hide he couldn’tavoid the dusty onslaught. Men shouted and said something hecould quite understand, like “we must go now, the “Ger-muns” arecoming. He had hear a lot about these “Ger-muns” the people ofhis village, Cote’ de Chevre’, seemed extremely worried and jittery, he had heard a radio broadcast when he was down by theCafe that said something about “Nat-zees” coming, everyone gotvery nervous as soon as they heard that word too.And ever since he first heard talk of these Nat-zees it lookedlike the Brits were getting ready to leave and by the looks of things today, he figured the Brits were finally going.
2
‘Bomb’ Voyage
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