Autobiography

A Passion for Flying: 8,000 hours of RAF Flying by Tom Eeles

By Tom Eeles

The tale of crew Captain Tom Eeles who served within the RAF for forty four years and totalled over 8000 hours of flying in twenty-eight assorted airplane kinds. Tom entered RAF collage Cranwell in 1961, he won his RAF wings in 1963.

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Additional resources for A Passion for Flying: 8,000 hours of RAF Flying

Sample text

Tragedy, no matter how sad, becomes boring to those not caught in its addictive caress. I watched my host, so sympathetic at the outset, become increasingly less interested in me and my distress. After a few weeks in his house, his discomfort even penetrated my self-centeredness. When Julian and Ana Livia Mayfield allowed me to store my books and clothes at their house, I gave my host only perfunctory thanks, and moved into a tiny room at the local YWCA I focused my attention on myself, with occasional concentrations on Guy.

Then she could exercise her sharp mind and quick tongue on anyone within hearing range. The wise Vicki said, “What Africa needs is help. ” Alice grinned, warming up. She said, “I’ve never seen Africa as a woman, and somewhere I resent the use of any sexual pronoun to describe this complex continent. It’s not he or she. ” The visitors looked disapprovingly at us all. The need to believe in Africa’s maternal welcome was painfully obvious. They didn’t want to know that they had not come home, but had left one familiar place of painful memory for another strange place with none.

Racial loyalties and cultural attachments had become meaningless. Trying utterly, I could not match Guy’s stoicism. He lay calm, week after week, in a prison of plaster from which only his face and one leg and arm were visible. His assurances that he would heal and be better than new drove me into a faithless silence. Had I been less timid, I would have cursed God. Had I come from a different background, I would have gone further and denied His very existence. Having neither the courage nor the historical precedent, I raged inside myself like a blinded bull in a metal stall.

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