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By the time I returned, Allison was dressed and trying to hobble about the room. I adjusted the crutches to her height, gave her a large dose of ibuprofen for the pain, and told her to keep weight off of the ankle and to let me know if it started to swell. I got a kiss on the cheek for a reward.The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. The snow kept falling; the predictions had been upped again to eighteen inches. There was the expected giggling and slumber party noises from Karen’s room and the TV room, but no one else took a header down the stairs.I had decreed “lights out” at midnight, and no more pillow fights. The talking and giggling continued for some time after that, but I didn’t really care.Around one o’clock, I clicked off Conan O’Brien and decided to go to bed. I stopped in the living room and looked out the front window at the snow. The neighborhood was almost unrecognizable. The road had not been plowed yet and the neighbors’ cars were just white humps along the side. "You ever landed in the Azores?" the captain asked after I saluted. "Just got a message, some sort of trouble in Dakar; they want us to land and wait for developments. Frenchies are nervous I guess, all that Hitler business. Hate to have to just circle, and we need some water and supplies."I nodded, trying to recall the islands."Germans built a Zeppelin facility there ten years ago, ought to be acceptable. Go check. Don't waste time, and we'll let down and head in that direction." The captain waved me away and turned back to the bridge. The big ship could almost skim the waves at times.I found some charts, hurried out and got my crew topping off my tanks. My plane was the best we had, army or navy, a brand new, Allison powered, P-37 from Curtis. The long-nosed, low-wing, all-metal craft was hard to handle on the ground mainly because the cockpit was so far back that the rudder rubbed your spine. There was a basic visibility problem. It was a handful with gear up and hook extended, and.
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