[center]----------------------------------------------------------------------------- June, 1960, Outside Salisbury, Rhodesia -----------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center] Florence had left the city just before dawn, the early morning air sharp and cool as she drove her Royal Enfield Bullet motorcycle down the tree lined avenues of the Rhodesian capital. The sweet smells of fragrant Indian Bauhinias, the wide spreading Croton, the Giant Eucalyptus, vivid red Flamboyants, and the magnificent Jacaranda trees were thick at this hour and she gloried in them. She wore a black leather jacket, tight blue jeans, and faceless motorbike helmet. On her back she carried a small backpack with her camera, a notebook, a couple of chocolate bars, and a change of clothes. Even at that early hour the city was alive with people and vehicles as delivery drivers, newspaper boys, police cruisers, buses, and taxis hurried about the neatly maintained streets. City workers moved about purposefully, emptying garbage and recycling bins, working diligently to tidy up small parks and, in one case, replacing a large power transformer. It took her nearly thirty minutes of traffic lights, dodging pedlars with their wares, and zipping through the increasingly heavy traffic, to reach the edge of the city as houses gave way to rural acreages and farmland. Traffic lightened up even more out here and Florence brought her bike up in speed, racing along the highway, properly paved within the last ten years. Her destination was an hour outside the city and she heard it long before she saw it as a pair of Submarine Spitfire's roared overhead, their massive Rolls Royce engines drowning out the sound of the bike beneath her. She watched them as they climbed away to the north east, racing into the early morning sunrise until she could see them no longer. Part of her wished she had become a pilot. To be able to travel at more than 500 kilometres an hour would be an incredible rush. A guard tower appeared on her left, standing at the corner of a tall barbed wire fence that ran West and South, mostly hidden by small shrubs that attempted to make the place look less like a military base. Buildings began to appear as well, she could just make out the curved roof of hangers and the more blocky outline of barracks. Again she was struck by how African everything looked. Many places, like German Cameroon, had done their level best to maintain their colonial roots with building styles and art. The Rhodesians on the other hand considered themselves African and showed it in their choice of local style. She turned into the entrance of the Salisbury Airforce Base, a sign next to the roadway proclaiming that it had been established in 1921. A gate, as well as a pop up barricade, blocked the road, small glass enclosed guardhouses on either side manned by RSF soldiers. She drew up next to one just as a gust of wind brought the reek of gasoline to her nose from the airfield beyond. "Hello!" She said with a large smile, pulling off her helmet so that the man could see her face. He brightened visibly when she did so, few men could resist a pretty girl. "I am here to meet with Major Redeker. The name is Florence Chideya, from National Geographic Magazine." The soldier glanced down at the paper in front of him and then returned her smile. "Yep, you're the only Journalist expected on the base today. Here," He handed her a small green badge with a "P" on it. "That will get your access to the base, just make sure you don't leave the green zone without an escort." He gestured to the tarmac where she could see a green line painted on the pavement. "If you do, you'll be shot." He said the words without any implied threat, which made them all that more sincere. She thanked him, clipped the badge onto her jacket lapel and waited while the security barriers were moved. The soldier waved her through, pointing her towards a two story building with a pair of Rhodesian flags out front flapping lazily in the light wind. White Security Forces Land Rovers were parked neatly nearby and, as she drove slowly toward the building, she could see a row of Spitfires parked across the runway. Closer to her, their long cigar shaped bodies swarming with mechanics, were a half dozen transport aircraft painted a drab green. The hangers behind them appeared to be busy with movement but she could not make out what was happening from this distance. A single Mosquito fighter bomber was idling nearby as she drew up to the command building and shut down her motorcycle. As she swung out of the seat a figure dropped from the wing of the Mosquito and jogged across the tarmac toward her. Major Frazer Redeker was dressed in a standard blue jumpsuit and brown flying hood, pockets bulging with various items, a semi-automatic pistol on his hip. He smiled as she walked towards him. "Hello Florence! Right on time. Are you ready to go? Need some water? Quick bathroom break? We'll be up for the better part of an hour." He shook her hand, gesturing to the command building. "Thanks for having me, and no, thank you. I should be okay for an hour." She laughed, the excitement building in her as she walked toward the aircraft. The two big twin engines were turning slowly, the rumble of them evident as the air vibrated around her. She was admiring the craft, looking it over, when it occurred to her that it had no guns on it. "Don't these usually have cannons or something on them?" "They do." Redeker said with a nod. "But this is a reconnaissance plane. All we have onboard today are cameras." He showed her the large camera built into the nose, and the two in the wings, ensuring they kept a wide berth of the still turning propeller blades. "It allows us to carry more fuel if we want, and fly faster." He had to shout to be heard over the engines now. A ground crewman had carried a short step ladder forward and Florence thanked him as she climbed up onto the wing of the aircraft with Redeker. The cockpit was a tight space and she put her bag behind the seat as she climbed across the pilots chair and dropped into the second seat. Redeker climbed in after her and slid into his own seat with practiced ease. Florence was immediately conscious of his leg pressed against hers. It might have made her uncomfortable but he did not seem to notice and she was determined not to make things weird. "Ready to roll?" He shouted, his teeth flashing into the dazzling smile she had seen three months before. She nodded as she pulled on the flying helmet that sat in front of her. It did very little to dampen the sound of the twin engines but she suddenly she could hear his voice over the radio. "Tower this is Redeker. I have one Journalist on board. Looking to blow this popsicle stand, over." "Redeker this is tower. Reading you five by five Major. You are cleared for take off. Stay safe out there, over." "Roger that tower, Redeker out." He glanced at her and she flashed him a smile and a thumbs up. She could feel her gut churning a bit as she looked down the long run way. It had been a while since she'd been any airplane this small and the whole plane seemed to be vibrating with the power of the engines, almost as if it was as excited to get going as she was. Redeker pushed the throttles forward slowly and she felt, as much as heard, the huge engines begin to claw at the air. They began to pick up speed and the aircraft nose dropped so that she had an inhibited view of the long runway. Trees and fence flashed by on the left, hangers and lines of aircraft to her right. The big cargo planes she had seen were now idling as well and she could see lines of soldiers beginning to board each of them. That was when she realized where she had seen them before. They were carrying paratroopers. A sudden reminder that the Bush War was not over and men still fought and died in the jungles to the north. Redeker began to pull back on the control column and the Mosquito leapt into the sky as he worked the landing gear pump until she could feel a thud as they slammed home into the fuselage of the aircraft. The feeling in her stomach was replaced by joy as the world feel away beneath them and she could see all of Rhodesia spreading out beneath her. The highway she had come in on was steadily getting busier and in the distance she could see the light flashing off the sky scrapers of Salisbury as the sun cleared the low hanging morning clouds to the East. She gave Redeker another thumbs up and he winked as he banked the Mosquito to the north.