"R. Garcia y Robertson - Wendy Darling, RFC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robertson R Garcia Y)

тАЬHope the Kaiser gives them all medals.тАЭ

тАЬYou canтАЩt really be glad it happened?тАЭ She thought of children dead at their
desks.

тАЬLord yes. A week ago I was doing dawn contact patrols against really nasty
Huns, brutes who were having us for breakfast. Damned active and dangerous. Now
IтАЩm sailing about on a head full of bubbly, with a smashing girl in my arms. Not
above time, if you ask me.тАЭ

She was surprised, and pleased, being called a girl again, even by a smiling
madman in RFC khaki. тАЬSmashingтАЭ was mere icing on the cake. Was this Peter
grown up ? Wendy no longer waited by the nursery window, but still had Peter in her
heartтАФ the wild terrible boy who had taken her beyond the sky, vowing never to
give her up, then forgetting to come back. Ryan had the wildness, the cool cutting
disdain, but he was more cynical and clearsighted than Peter could ever hope to be.
He spun her around the dance floor, then led her out onto the long grass, buoyed by
the band music. A single SE5 scout stood parked at the near end of the field, gaunt
and angular, its upper wing topped by a Lewis gun, reminding everyone what
Fifty-sixth SquadronтАЩs business was. What the party was about.

тАЬKiss me now,тАЭ he suggested, holding tight to her waist, hair tousled, tunic
open. This was what war demandedтАФlightning dalliance. Instant love making. No
time for tedious romance. Posters on every street comer proclaimed the only man
worth having was in uniformтАФ but you had to kiss him quick. Death was in the
wings. тАЬTen days and IтАЩll be gone.тАЭ

тАЬTen days?тАЭ She was aghast.
 тАЬBack to France.тАЭ

тАЬWhat about London?тАЭ

тАЬCome, do you think a government that wastes two-thousand a day in the
trenches frets over babies and shopkeepers? Only more bombing will bring us
back.тАЭ

She insisted that was barbaric.

He gave a snort. тАЬA flier fresh up from school lasts barely a fortnight at the
front тАФ thatтАЩs barbaric. Ten days is a lifetime. Two months and youтАЩre an arrant
coward, or a stone cold assassin. Maybe both.тАЭ Ryan did not need to add that he
had been at it two years. тАЬDo you know what weтАЩd do if we got our hands on one of
your baby-killing Gotha pilots?тАЭ

тАЬFolks in the East End aim to bring back the rack and buming irons.тАЭ

тАЬWeтАЩd give him dinner and bubbly, treat him to a concert, then pack him off
to a prison camp. Because there is no enemy more barbaric than the bloody Royal
Flying Corps.тАЭ The band played тАЬTipperaryтАЭ in the background. This lost boyтАЩs
hands had gotten inside her wrap, one in the small of her back, the other working