'A Foo fighter,' Schlesinger said.

'That's the word you guys are using for this particular kind of unidentified flying object?'

'Right. We call them Foo fighters.'

'Why?'

'Just a joke name. It comes from the Smokey Stover comic strip. You know? The popular phrase, "Where there's foo, there's fire." It's as simple as that.'

Bradley chuckled and shook his head in amus.e.m.e.nt, then returned to business. 'So you'd heard about the Foo fighters before you made that particular flight?'

'Yeah, right, but that doesn't mean I imagined the sons of b.i.t.c.hes. Everyone in the crew saw the same objects and one of our B-25s went down because of the hara.s.sment. No, sir! They were real, all right!'

'So what happened?'

'We're just approaching Strasbourg with not a thing in the G.o.dd.a.m.ned sky no enemy aircraft, no flak, no tracers nothing! Then, without warning, these G.o.dd.a.m.ned Foo fighters appeared about a dozen of them and started tailing certain of our aircraft, mostly the bombers. They ascended from the ground most of us saw them coming up. They looked like b.a.l.l.s of fire an orange-yellow fire, sometimes flaring white, with a tail of fire streaming out behind it but when they flew beside my plane, a B-25, I could see that they had a dark inner core, which was probably solid. That core was shaped like a disc, or saucer, and most of us agreed it was no more than three or four feet wide.'

'And you believe they were actually tailing your aircraft?'

'No doubt about it, Colonel. Those G.o.dd.a.m.ned things were controlled. With that orange-yellow fire around them and their unusual shape and size, they certainly seemed a bit weird and even unreal but they were under control.'

'What makes you think that?'

'Because they flew right at our airplanes as if about to crash into them, then turned away abruptly and just tailed us, sticking really close to us. Then, each time we fired our guns at them, they flew out of range at incredible speed and in every direction.'

'How fast?'

'Faster than any plane I've ever seen.'

'Why did you fire at them? They were only tailing you, after all.'

'Because as soon as they started tailing us, or at least flying in formation with us since they were usually right beside us they appeared to cool down a bit, giving us a clearer impression of the dark inner core. Then they definitely looked saucer-shaped, probably made of metal at times they glinted and they seemed to be spinning rapidly on their own axis. When they were spinning like that, they made a whipping, whistling sound, like they were whipping up the air around them. And when that happened, our radar and engines malfunctioned and our planes started failing... It was weird. Really frightening.'

'And you're sure that the malfunctioning of the engines was directly related to the spinning of the fireb.a.l.l.s?'

'Absolutely. I'm sure. We were all sure. Because as soon as we fired on the Foo fighters, they flew away from us the instant we started firing, in fact and as soon as they flew out of range, our engines kicked on again. So that's what was happening, see? When they came close to us, our engines malfunctioned and we started going down; when we fired at them and they flew away, our engines kicked back into life and we were able to level out and keep flying. So they came at us and were chased away, returned and were chased away again, and our engines were cutting in and out, and we were falling and then levelling out again. This happened repeatedly until we gave up and turned back to England... Which we only did when Tappman's B25 went down for the count.'

'Lieutenant Victor Tappman... the fatality.'

'Right. Good old Vic. Out of Denver, Colorado. One of the best pilots we had but even he couldn't handle it.'

Another sh.e.l.l fell nearby, exploding a few streets away, but Schlesinger merely turned his head to glance at the rising smoke, then inhaled on his cigar and shook his head ruefully.

'His B-25,' he continued, 'like all of the others, had been cutting in and out, going down and levelling out again; but then it cut out for too long, fell too far to be levelled out, and then went into a nosedive that he couldn't control. I think his engines came on again, but by then the aircraft was in that spin, and so the plane was forced quicker toward the ground and eventually crashed. I heard Tappman on the intercom, shouting about the G.o.dd.a.m.ned fireb.a.l.l.s. "They're killing our engines!" he shouted. "They're not planes!" I heard his gunner cry out. "They're b.a.l.l.s of fire!" The gunner also emphasized that the b.a.l.l.s of fire were ascending so they weren't natural phenomena and then Tappman screamed, "We're going down! Pull her up!" Then he gave one, long drawn-out cry of the word "Foo!" which is where it all ended.'

'You mean, the Foo fighters flew away after Tappman crashed.'

'No,' Schlesinger said, taking another drink of his coffee and then putting the mug back down. 'We all turned back when we saw Tappman crashing and only then, when we were actually heading home, did the Foo fighters fly away... And those sons of b.i.t.c.hes did fly away, Colonel, they didn't just disappear. They ascended vertically above our aircraft, stayed above us for a short while, then, when they were certain we were heading home, they flew away horizontally and finally, when a good distance away, descended in formation toward the ground. They were controlled, Colonel. Definitely!'

'It could only have been remote control,' Bradley said.

'Like the V-1 and V-2 rockets,' Grieves added, 'so it's certainly possible.'

There was silence for a moment. Bradley heard the distant battle.

'This is some office you got here,' Schlesinger said. 'Real cosy, in fact.'

Bradley smiled. 'We make do with what we have.'

Schlesinger nodded, straight-faced, and said, 'Can I go now?'

Bradley also nodded. 'Sure. And thanks a lot. You've been a great help.'

Schlesinger grinned, pushed his chair back, and stood up.