Captains of the Clouds Page #7

to fly by the seats of their pants.

- He mentioned it.

- Won't have any trouble on that score.

The only way to teach kids to fly...

Teach them to obey orders

and fly according to the plan.

It's your job to keep it working.

I don't like red tape.

But this instinct-flying patter will only

tear down our whole training system.

You've gotta stop it.

Might've known you'd make noise

like a brass hat.

What do I do? Hand in my resignation?

Wait for you to have me kicked out?

You do your job according to RCAF rules.

I'll do mine. That's all.

Yes, sir.

Computed height, 6200 feet.

Computed air speed, 185 mph.

Right.

Left. Left.

Steady.

- Second course, ready.

- Second course, steady.

Ninety-degree method finished.

Wind speed, 22 mph.

Direction, 165 degrees.

- Ready to bomb.

- Target.

That factory east of the river,

directly ahead.

- Attack.

- Attack.

Right. Left. Left, steady.

Number 1 bomb gone.

On target.

Number 2 bomb gone.

Number 3 bomb gone.

Number 4 bomb gone.

Alabama, you're way off your target.

You'll have to do better.

Find the wind to make another run.

Yes, sir.

- About to drop a few eggs, Alabama?

- May be the last bombing flight I have, sir.

If I don't report better, I may be trading

these goggles for a service rifle.

- It isn't as bad as all that, is it?

- Oh, just about.

The chief instructor told me that

the prescribed course of training demands...

Oh, you had the makings of the best pilot

in the outfit before you ever knew a rule.

Well, thank you, sir.

There is such a thing as instinct,

you know.

- Come on.

- Oh, but where...?

- Get in the rear cockpit.

- But this is a solo flight.

Get in the rear cockpit, buckle up

and keep your head down.

Here, you take this.

I'll swim.

You are going to report a bombing score

that will make history around here.

- Ready, Alabama?

- Yes, sir.

Here we go.

Hadn't we better pull out sooner?

We're coming close to those bomb bursts.

Oh, pay no attention.

I've dodged worse than that in my day.

I'll make it this time,

or I go back to the bush. Yeah.

Mr. MacLean, you're going too low.

If those bomb splinters ever hit us...

Leave that to me.

I'll smack one dead center if I have to land

on that target. Take a deep breath.

Prentiss. Open your cockpit and unstrap

your chute. We're headed for the ditch.

Are you ready? Prentiss!

Prentiss!

"The court finds that the accused,

Flying Officer Brian MacLean...

...number C-1969 of No.1 Bombing

and Gunnery school, Jarvis, Ontario...

...did neglect to obey

Station Standing Orders.

For when on active service

on the 12th day of April, 1941...

...he, when a flying officer in the vicinity

of Number 4 bombing target...

...did engage in unauthorized low flying.

This act was contrary to Part 8,

Page 5 of Station Standing Orders.

And as a result of it, leading aircraftsman

Louis Prentiss, suffered severe injuries...

...and damage was done to aircraft Harvard

number 622-78J, property of the Crown.

Therefore, the finding

of this court-martial...

...is that the accused

is guilty as charged."

Do you wish to address the court?

No, sir.

"The court sentenced the accused

to be dismissed from His Majesty's service."

Court is now closed.

Papers here. Read all about it.

Read all the latest news, sir.

Want a paper, sir? Paper, sir?

Read all about it. All the latest new...

- Say, is there any gents in the backroom?

- Can't you hear them?

- You think they would wanna buy papers?

- They might. They've been there all day.

- Oh, popcorn.

- Hey, that's for customers.

Bless them all, bless them all

The short and the wide and the tall

Bless the instructors

Who teach us to dive

They say that we're lucky

'Cause we're still alive

And if ever the engine should stall

We're in for a heck of a fall

No sweet peas or violets

For flat-footed pilots

So cheer up my lads and bless them all

Bless them all, bless them all

The short and the wide and the tall

- I beg your pardon, gents.

- What's...?

- Paper, sir?

- What's in it?

All the latest war news.

Bombing of London.

Bombing of the ports.

RAF strikes back.

- Don't want it. Ain't my war.

- It ain't my war too.

And you know why it ain't my war?

Because I fly by the set of my pants,

because I'm too old.

They say you gotta watch those little things

and keep your eyes on the instrument.

So I'm out, you hear? I'm out.

Now, you look like a nice, young fella.

So take my advice and keep away

from the air force. You hear me?

Keep away from the air force.

Sure, want a paper?

Same one?

Do you want a paper, sir?

- No. It ain't my war too.

- I'll take it.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you, sir. Thanks.

Oh, don't read that. Ain't our war.

I'm not reading the war news.

I'm looking at the pictures.

There's a picture of a man

who knows all about flying.

- He's the man we should have seen.

- Who?

- Billy. Billy Bishop. There's his picture.

- Oh, Billy Bishop. Of course.

Certainly. He was an ace in the last war.

Yes, sir. He flew by the seat of his pants

and he was an ace. Shot down 72 planes.

An air marshal in this war.

A very important man. Yeah.

"Air Marshal Bishop. Victoria Cross,

Distinguished Service Order, Military Cross.

Distinguished Flying Cross,

Chevalier of the Legion of Honor.

Croix de Guerre with palm.

Will present wings to pilots at Uplands."

Present wings. Nice little white wings.

And what have we got?

We got a bottle.

Yeah, but you can't fly a bottle.

As a matter of fact, we can't fly anything.

You know why?

Because they said so. We're too old.

That's exactly what the men said.

Brother Tiny, one of these days, I'm going

to show Billy Bishop how I can fly.

I'm going to power-dive right over his head

and I'm going to yell to him:

"Billy Bishop. Billy Bishop. Watch me fly.

Watch Brian MacLean fly."

You and me both.

- But you can't.

- Why?

Because you haven't got a plane.

You told me so yourself. You sold it.

Yes, I got a plane.

Popcorn Kearns has gone to the States.

He says I can use his plane till he gets back.

Good old Popcorn.

I like Popcorn.

Nice little white wings.

I thought they were very becoming.

It's a grand thing to see old soldiers

like you back in the conflict.

- How old are you?

- Thirty-eight, sir.

You must have been

about 11 or 12 in the last war.

Yes, sir.

Men...

...the wings

which I am about to present you...

...are a flying insignia

with great traditions behind it.

You have earned them

after a long and arduous period of training...

...and they proclaim to the world...

...that you have accomplished

your first job.

That you're entitled to undertake

tremendous responsibilities.

These wings are the symbol of gallantry.

You go forth from here

highly accomplished pilots.

Your training

has been equal to and better...

...than anything

that the enemy can provide.

In a short time,

and possibly in a very short time...

...you will be, and we all envy you...

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes