"Don't think?" Markham barked at him. "Well, that's the difference between us!"
"Yes, sir," the Adjutant said weakly.
"Exactly the difference!" the Officer Commanding said with a curt nod of his head. Then grinning broadly, "You don't think you know, Phipps, but I blessed well know I don't know. It's the craziest memo I've ever received. I'd almost say that Group Captain Ball was stone spiffed, but I know him personally, and he never touches a drop. Get him on the wire for me, will you, Phipps? I believe I have half an idea as to what's up."
"You have, sir?" the Adjutant echoed with interest.
"I read lots of detective books," the Officer Commanding said with a wave of his hand. "Fine for taking a chap's mind off this blasted war. Yes, I fancy the postman stopped at the wrong house this morning."
"Eh, sir?" Phipps mumbled with a frown.
"Obvious, I think, Phipps," Markham said and tapped the paper again. "This was supposed to be delivered to some other bloke, not to me. Now, get Ball on the wire like a good chap, eh?"
"Yes, sir," Phipps said and spun back to his own desk. "Oh, quite, sir."
As the Adjutant reached his desk he stopped short and turned toward the window. So did Squadron Leader Markham for that matter. Outside the air had suddenly become filled with the roar of powerful aircraft engines. Markham leaped over to the window and looked out and up at the five plane formation playing tag at some three or four thousand feet over the field. They were Supermarine Spitfires, the new Mark 5 type; the latest and fastest fighter plane off the British aircraft factory assembly lines.
They looked exactly like the old Spitfires, and in many ways they were just the same. But there were also many changes, and improvements. There was more horsepower in the Rolls-Royce engine in the nose. There was more fire power due to the addition of four 20-mm. aircraft cannon to the already standard equipment of eight death chopping machine guns that could blast out bullets at the rate of nine thousand odd per minute. And there were a few very hush-hush gadgets on the new Mark 5 that the Nazi Luftwaffe would sell its soul to have on their planes. But that is the difference between the Royal Air Force and Hitler's Luftwaffe. The Royal Air Force will always be better tomorrow than it is today, but the Luftwaffe gets just so good, and there it stops. There just isn't that something in the Nazi aeronautical make-up that drives a man on to improve upon his best efforts!