X Marks the
Spot
I went to the pub one night and met a stranger I’d never seen before; he told
me an amazing story. I’m unsure if it’s true but I’ll share it with you anyhow,
what an interesting tale it is. It was a Tuesday night in my boring crap town
and I had been to a friend to watch her Tristania DVD because I’d never seen
one before and I really enjoyed it. Taking my time I walked to the pub, one
whose name I forget – never did I think a random pub could have such an
effect on me! I ordered my beer and stood by the bar thinking when I was aware
of another man next to me. A gruff voice spoke. It wasn’t this which took me by
surprise but his American accent. What was a yank doing near Manchester? I soon
found out. He introduced himself as Bubba and said it wasn’t his real name but
a nickname his old squadron mates called him due to his love of burgers. I
rolled my eyes and thought really? I replied I’m Nick and it’s nice to meet
you. He finished his pint of beer and ordered a new one, then changed his mind
and ordered two. Was one for me? Yes it was, he placed the second beer before me
without asking if I drank Tetley’s or wanted it but I accepted. Never turn down
free beer! I finished my first drink and nodded in thanks. Bubba said to me,
“Well son, your English beer is not like our American beer. We serve ours cold
and yours is warm!”
“Erm… it’s the way it is,” was all I managed to reply.
“Is that so son?” laughed Bubba rocking back and forth on the stool he had
recently sat upon, almost falling off.
“Yes mate it is,” I commented, a little annoyed. Are all Americans like
this I thought?
“What about your women, what are they like then? Warm or cold?” he
guffawed, definitely enjoying himself. Was this some test to win my trust to
see me if I was suitable for his company? I decided to leave, parting with one
across his bow first.
“I’ll tell you about English women. They take no crap from anyone including
people from across the pond, they are the warmest and kindest going but their
trust has to be earned and cross them, you’d wish you were never born. In your
case you’d be totally outclassed, they don’t go for bullshit! It takes a man
like me to handle them,” I lectured the yank as I took a huge drink from
the pint he bought me. His reply was quite candid considering what I said to
him.
“Really… that’s quite a speech. You’d
be good in Congress. You ever thought of being a Democrat? Let me tell you MY
story. Do you like airplanes?”
“Yes I do actually. Why was you a pilot or did you make them?” I asked,
my annoyance bordering on hostility now forgotten.
“I was a pilot. I flew an “X” plane in combat. That’s X for experimental.
We put guns and missiles on them, it was quite a time I can tell you,” Bubba
quietly explained, his eyes wide in wonder.
“For real? You were a pilot? A fighter pilot in the Air Force?” I asked,
interested now.
“Yes, I was a fighter pilot but not regular Air Force, we were a secret
organisation all very hush hush as I believe you Brits say it.”
“What did you fly and where did you serve?”
“I flew an X-3, a white pointy high speed jet called the Stiletto, she was made
by Douglas. We put a gun in the nose and two Sidewinders on the
wings,” Bubba slowly explained taking a supp from his pint, “those were the
best days of my life I can tell you!”
“I’ve never met a pilot before so I’m not sure what to say. Well done?” I
commented, unsure of myself. What do you say to someone who has done something
that you’ll never do yourself?
“Yes indeed. And the remarkable thing is I never wanted to do it, to fly for
them or be there. Let me just say they twisted my arm and I went along with
them. Thing is they were right, it was a great time, all top secret but I trust
you my friend.”
“You have my word I won’t tell anyone Bubba. No one would believe me anyhow and
that’s the truth, no one believed me when I said I was seeing a tattooed model.
They just laughed at me. So your secret is safe with me,” I quietly
replied, remembering my embarrassment when I confided in a so-called mate that
I was seeing a sexy top model from a tattoo magazine three summers back. I
promised never to say anything again to anyone after that.
“She must have been a sexy nice woman to see you. Don’t let people talk down to
you or put you down,” Bubba firmly said to me. I nodded.
“Anyhow back to my story. Our jets were designed for speed and height in mind,
not for combat and war, so we had to modify them. For example, my jet which was
called an X-3, was modified to give the engines more power and my plane a
greater top speed, even when carrying weapons,” he continued, frowning
while he remembered the details from decades ago.
I finished my beer and got the barmaid’s
attention and ordered two more pints, Bubba could have the same as me. I paid
for the drinks and passed one to my new friend.
He thanked me and continued, “She was the prettiest
airplane ever built, like a needle with a deadly sharp tip and a slim
streamlined body and not a bit of drag anywhere. Her wings were short and thin
with a small tail plane and two engines. We never got the power we should have from
her engines even with afterburner, so we rigged up a water system in the nose
where the test equipment had been to feed water into the engines when we had
max power to give more thrust. Some planes use that at take off to get more
power and save fuel. That was my idea. My mates wanted to put a rocket engine
in the back but I said no, she’s my jet and I say the water will be fine. I got
an extra sixty miles an hour at military power to take me supersonic, rather
than transonic. With normal power she only did seven hundred straight and level
but in a dive with burners lit she was way past the Mach. My mates had several
other jets and they modified them in their own ways, like we did with our hot
rods. I tell you son, it was quite a time! All we needed was a war.”
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