Originally Posted by
Danny42C
Herod (#109),
Hard luck - should've used more finesse ! This afternoon I've wasted an inordinate length of time trying to trace a relevant tale I told on "Pilot's Brevet" years ago (no problem; I am in "boarding kennels" ["Respite Care"] to let daughter Mary, who takes tender care of me, have a few days to herself with pals in the Lake District). Inmates here all brain dead, so my time is my own. Predictably, "Search this Thread" no use at all, Google cannot help, so here it is again, from memory:
During the war, the Grand Hotel in Calcutta would allow through its portals officers and Sgt aircrew (but no other sgts or other ranks); Rs10 a night full board (say 13/-). Only you were in a shared room for two (males only), who you got as a "roomie" was pot luck. On this occasion, I got a friendly young American with an interesting background.
He'd entered the USAAC as a flight cadet (same as me) but got chucked out from Primary with 40 hrs Stearman time, left to go back to civil life (which was his right), trotted round to the China National Aircraft Corporation (that distant forebear of Cathay Pacific), who operated DC-3s "over the Hump" Calcutta-Chunking with American crews - and got taken on as a second dickey !
Really he was little more than a human autopilot minder. His Captain would do the navigation, and all the take-offs and landings. He was there to keep an eye on the autopilot and look out for mountain tops, and for someone the Captain to talk to (and to make the coffee). For this onerous task they were paying him Rs700 a month, which was three times what I was getting as a Sgt Pilot (and getting shot at into the bargain). And I'd completed the very Course that he'd been washed out of ! But it was really "danger" money, for the mountains were about at the ceiling of a heavily loaded freight Dak, weather was dicey and they ploughed in with monotonous regularity.
Now for the beef in the sandwich: occasionally they flew VIPs as well as freight, so of course they then needed a hostie on board. I think they sourced them from Pan Am. In those days it was a top job for a girl, like Top Model today, and there was no lack of applicants: naturally they chose the stunners. For that reason, they never lasted long before they snagged their millionaire, and there was a rapid turnover (no comment, please).The possibilities were obvious: one hairy old Captain devised a Fiendish Plan for each new girl. Picture:
It is a sunny lunchtime; a "slip" crew is chatting idly over coffee on the terrace. the Captain tells a strange story of Old China. Seems that, on another of the Company's routes, they overnight stop somewhere in the firm's "resthouse". This is an old mansion, formerly the residence of the high powered mandarin in charge of the province. Naturally he had a string of concubines, but #1 was getting a bit long in the tooth, #2 was getting more and more attention. This was getting up #1's nose, she consulted the Apothecary, and #2 expired, seemingly of Natural Causes. But the Mandarin queried the verdict, did a bit of digging, and got to the truth. #1 then expired horribly in turn, and #3 took over: what happened to her is not known.
The Spirit of #1, however, did not rest, and on moonlight nights returned to the scene of her former triumphs, and checked the place out to see what was going on. She looked into every bedroom, a girl in bed with a man was no threat to her, but a girl alone was Clear and Present Danger. She appeared to any such, screaming and threatening with claw-like talons to tear her (potential) rival's eyes out. Of course, being only a spirit, she could not in fact do any harm, but the performance was so vivid that the victim (who, oddly, was the only one who could see or hear anything) was reduced to a piteous mass of abject terror, packed her bags and left.
But of course, these superstitious Chinese will believe anything, won't they ? Another coffee all round ? .................Nothing more was said about the story.
What the Captain knew, but kept to himself, was that his crew were due to be swapped onto this very route in a couple of weeks.. Again, nothing was said, and after dinner the hostie retired to her virginal couch at one end of the corridor, the chaps to the other. Now you know how these old wooden buildings creak and groan with the fall in temperature: the night birds call eerily; moonlight shadows move as the night breezes rustle the trees .... and the girl remembers the story. She tries to put it out of her mind. But auto-suggestion is very powerful, pretty soon she is visited by the Demon .... The Captain (whose room is, by chance, nearest to hers) lights a cigarette and waits ...... Eventually a terrified little waif scratches at his door, begging for sanctuary in his bed. .... Let Conscience be your Guide !
In the light of dawn, the now throughly ashamed hostie gives up her job and returns to the States. Her replacement comes out, on a sunny terrace with a coffee .......
Neat, eh ? True ? How do I know ? It's just what he told me.