-"Boy, it's a long while I haven't got my butt in one of those calopies. That's quite funny.
- Don't worry Grandpa ! I'm sure you will do it all right... As usual.
- Don't call me Grandpa in public, will you. Never again !
- OK colonel. Ididn't really mean to....
- That's fine sonny.

The boy cast a sad glance at the furrowed brow of his grandfather, and turning his eyes away stared at the toes of his shoes in the mud. At least twenty years that he hadn't put his butt in a cockpit the old man. He got exited by the thought of flying again. No way of discouraging him. And when the boy had tried to protest the old man got angry, the carotid swollen in his neck, his face flushing and getting purple in no time. As agreed, the boy would stay behind. In case of emergency there would be somebody on the ground to do the necessary.

The boy took a crumpled banknote from his pocket to make sure eyes would be shut at the right moment and they happened to be shut alright. The old man hurried to the machine he had indicated. He had trouble hoisting himself in the cockpit, while the boy had decided from the start not to help him. No way. No how. He would rather twist his neck. The boy looked behind to make sure nobody was coming. Apparently with nothing in the way, he felt somewhat terrified. Maybe someone had better shown up to stop this while it was still possible. He didn't have the guts to do so. He turned his eyes back to the machine, and finally, the old man didn't have his neck broken. He was sitting at the controls, the lever almost touching his belly. Too many years living secluded in nostalgia. Or regrets, he wasn't quite sure. The old man smiled and the grin on his face tortured the boy whose face was all but joyful. So he made a small gesture with his hand suggesting involvement, but this was just absurd mimicry. But the old man smiled again. He had excuses the old one : too old and senile for being responsable for his acts. But what about him ?

The plane had taken off in a flow of glacial air and there was no way back. The old man cried of joy when the machine pulled up and he went to a destiny beyong his control. On the ground the youngster kept following him with his eyes, then lost interest in his fate. He sat down, got cold folded his arms around his knees and rested his brow on his forearms. Waiting for him to return and get away as fast as possible.
The old man was scared to death but maintained control anyway. The plane he got assigned displayed an aleatory behaviour and reacted rather poorly to the commands. But he mastered the situation as well as himself.
He wouldn't be able to say how long he was flying when it happened. In any case less than ten minutes. A machine unsignaled on his flight frequency band, just cleared his propeller in a chandelle turn. He passed two times in equally gritty moves, with the old man unable to determine whether it was an enemy plane or not. The third time, he convinced himself that a guy that obviously threatened his life couldn't be but with the enemy, even though he might be a fellow citizen. So he decided to chase him with all his skill. A finger on the trigger, he just fired when the other appeared in his collimator, hardly anticipating because of the closeness of the machines.

Upon his firing , the target pulled away in a sudden sharp turn. After a series of vain attempts he decided to no more waste his ammo. In the absence of an apparent skill, he thought better to rely on his experience. So he tried to force his opponent in making a mistake.He wouldn't give him a breather, be right on his side, ready for the death blow. The fatal thrust. He was convinced that the yougster he observed though the cockpit wouldn't resist a long time to his pressure and was bound to make an error. Only then would he pull the trigger. In practise, the situation proved a lot less easy. Because the young pilot didn't lack skill and the

flying became increasely dangerous. "Oh boy. You don't make it easy" the old man cried. His ears started singing dangerously but he didn't pay attention. He also felt sick and his convulsed guts caused nausea. Clasped to the lever, he didn't think much of his chances of survival, when something unexpected happened. An incandescent red and yellow fire ball crossed his sight and he understood that the flak finally started firing. The flight instruments, stuck in the dials, were of little help. But he was sure of not having left the national territory. He just didn't fly long enough to get outside. So he cried "Hold it, boys. You almost got me ! Adjust your aiming, good gracious ! Another fire ball almost hit the enemy plane and a grin illuminated the old man's face. There was some Flak firing but but the enemy eluded it with unusual ease. Rather tired of previous fight, the old man was in two minds.

Hence, he decided that under the circumstances, the only solution might be to throw his last forces in the battle. He applied a steady pull on the trigger and the front gun made an unbelievable noise. While firing he suddenly nose-dived at the enemy machine. The other started a particulary perillous escape and the old man vehemently pulled the lever to follow him in a chandelle that should have been fatal to both of them.

The old man didn't stop firing but it looked as if none of the bullets hit the opponent's body. In the next turn the old man lost conscience. Some minutes later he came to his senses., astonished that his plane was still flying, though diving dangerously. He pulled the lever, clenched his teeth such that they were almost broken, and the plane finally pulled up to recover its regular trim.
A short while the old man thought he had escaped, but finally understood that something was wrong. Actually, the machine lost continuously altitude and the old man was unable to do anything about its trim. He pulled the lever with all his strengh but the plane kept falling.

"Mayday, Mayday !" he cried. The jalopy got dangerously close to the ground and a crash seemed inevitable. The old hands held the lever tremblingly but he didn't faint. Just before impact he folded his arms around his face and dedicated his soul to the Lord, though infidel among the infidels.
"-Good Lord ! Can't you get out after all ? You frighten the children !"
The loudspeaker croaked sky-high and the old man hadn't opened his eyes yet.
"We have to go Grandpa !" Said a sweet voice he recognized as his Grandson's. Instead of a crash, the plane had landed regularly as if guided by the divine grace.
"Grandpa, we really have to go, stop loafing !". A man came foreward with brisk menacing steps. A face to make you pale of fright and chenched sledge-sized fist.
"- What a mess ! You can't leave them for ten minutes or they mess up.

Who let you go ? My son I guess, the little rascal.
- We are leaving sir, we are leaving. Cool it !
- Yeah ! So much better for you Beat it or I call the police !"
the old man tried to protest but the youngster took him by his sleeveand pulled him through the dense and anonymous crowd. Now, sitting in their little multicoloured planes, the urchins laughed. The boy shot a scornfull glance at them and immediately regretted doing so. In his bony hands, the old man clenched pieces of red and yellow pompoms. They had walked through the crowd quite a while without saying a word. Then the old man said.
"- He's not easy the commander, isn't he ?
- Yeah. Not easy at all."
On their way back, they made a short cut through the public garden and the old man came to attention in front of the zoo keeper who said :
"- Hello Mister Tibbets".
They resumed their walk and there were no more such events.
All along the way back the old man displayed an unusual nervousness. He was agitated and the grandson failed to fathom the source of it. Back at the old man's home, both settled in the sagging filthy armchairs that the old man adamantly refused to trash pretending they were still good enough for his butt. Then the grandson put the water on to prepare mint tea.
"- Did you see it ? He recognized me !" said the old man finally exposing the reason of his anguish.