Третья мировая война 1946 - Красная волна - Сталин атак впервые - Альтернативная история

Третья мировая война 1946 - Красная волна - Сталин атак впервые - Альтернативная история
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Sunday, February 19, 2012

Jack Smith at Cambridge Airport by Tallthinkev

Cambridge Airport

Jack Smith wheeled his bike towards the hanger, he then stopped for a moment.

Bloody hell, he thought, there have been some changes lately. Looking around it began to sink in.

Apart from the,now, large amount of ack-ack guns and all the German and bloody Yanks about, it was the work he now had to do. Most of it was beyond him.

Thinking back to the anti aircraft guns. Why, was the question that came to mind. The Germans didn't bomb the airport so why make a big fuss and draw attention to yourself.

'Hey you!' Jack turned about and saw a very large Yank pointing at him.

'Where do you think you're going?'

'To work. What's it got to with you.'

'Where's your I.D. Buddy?' ask the Yank

'My what? What the hell is an idee?' said Jack

'Your I.D. Buddy. Don't piss me off, you wouldn't like it if you pissed me off.'

'Bugger off!' shouted Jack.

'OK buddy you are coming with me' the very large Yank grasped him by the arm and he was frog marched to a big hut a few yards away.

When they got into the hut Jack was pushed in, almost in the the arms of an officer. A major he thought, or was it a colonel. Damn stupid. Why have the same leaves as the rank symbols.

'What's your name sir?' asked the officer.

'Well that's better than buddy!' said Jack

'He was calling to buddy?' the officer was shaking his head 'I've told about that before, and I am sorry about it sir. May I ask your name?'

'Jack Smith, well William Smith really, and yours Major. Wait a minute I know you don't I? Henry Fonda, that's it.'

'Henry Fonda, that's rich. I do know him though, just about my best friend really.'

'It's colonel actually. Colonel James Stewart. And what do you do here Mr Smith?'

'More to the point what are you Bloody Yanks doing here?' asked Jack.

'Nobody told me you lot would be here.'

'Well, I must say, I didn't know myself I would be myself until two days ago' said Stewart, 'Why don’t you tell me what you do'

'Would be easer to show you' muttered Jack.

'What was that Mr Smith?'

'Come on and I'll show you'

With that, the colonel followed him out of the hut.

After about 50 yards they came to one of the smaller hangers. Before they got inside they where greeted by a young German.

'Good morning Herr Smith.' said the young man, almost bowing as he did. 'A nice day,is it not?'

'Yes it is, Wilhelm, warm for the time of the year. Have you heard from your family yet?'

'I only know that they were alive a couple of months ago, but I have to hope they still are. I have to go now Herr, sorry, Mr Smith' called out Wilhelm as he ran to the main office'

'That's quite funny' chuckled Stewart.

'What, he can't find his family? Doesn’t know if they are alive or dead?'

'No, not at all, not at all. That must be one of the worse thing I can think of.

It just that you both have the same name' said the colonel. He wasn't smiling now, just hung his head slightly. 'Thought it was all over.'

'Stalin's worse than Hitler. Never thought I'd say that about anybody.'

'Amen to that' replied the colonel.'


Seconds later they were in the hanger. Three aircraft where inside. A Meteor, a 262 and a Bell P-80.

None of them had engines fitted, they were on the floor, supported on old bomb trailers.

'What are they doing here then?' asked Jimmy.

'Not sure if I should tell you, but as you are here now, I might as well it won't matter. I, well I should say we are trying different engines in the different planes. We know the 262 has the best aerodynamics but not the best engines, they only seem to work for about 15 hours before they need to be taken out and fixed. It's more like rebuilding really.' said Jack.

'So who is in charge here?' asked Stewart.

'It's me. In this hanger anyway.' Said jack, 'I don't know why. I don't know anything about engines, I used to be a fabric man, you know fixing up Anson's, Oxford's and the like. Maybe it's because I've worked here for a number of years and haven't made too many mistakes. It's a bloody headache I'll tell you that for nothing. Three different spanners one for each plane. Three different languages every one talks.

'I see now three different type of spanners, we know as wrenches.'

They walked about more of the hanger.

Jack pointed at some barrels. 'This is another problem'

'What problem would that be Mr Smith' Jimmy asked, pointing at the barrels 'These?'

'Yes different types of fuel, it can mean as well as changing the engines we have to change the fuel tanks. Pain in the arse, if you ask me.'

'One last thing, do you know of any good bars, sorry, I should say, pubs around here?'

Before Jack could answer a door opened on the side of the hanger and a man walked in.

He was wearing a black leather German flying jacket and flying boots. He was still wearing his insignia, the swastika was missing, just cut off.

'Colonel, this is General Galland.'

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