Medusa

There was a long pause, Gareth staring down at it, Welsh emotion strangling any reply, actual tears in his eyes. It was a moment we all shared, but having been with him on various very crucial occasions, I could appreciate more than any of the others on the flight deck the depth of his feeling, the ordeal he had been through — not only facing the prospect of imminent death for himself and the men serving under him, but later in the loneliness of waiting for his career to be terminated in a court martial.

Poor ol’ Byng! I remembered his words, slurred with drink, and now I saw him crying openly, the Spanish decoration catching the last of the sun as he pulled himself together and returned Captain Wheatcroft’s salute.