"Moral Fibre" - The Flight Engineer "Daddy" MacDonald
Kit Moran, the hero of "Moral Fibre," did not start his flying career in the pilot's seat. He first volunteered, trained and qualified as a flight engineer. Kit flies 36 operations as a flight engineer and only later qualifies as a pilot. When the time comes to crew up, however, his own experience as an engineer gets in his way by making him very fussy. Yet, as if by providence, the right man finds Kit and they become a superb team.
Excerpt 1:
Finding a flight engineer proved more difficult. Toodifferent in background and personality to like the same kind of people, Stuand Terry recommended two different candidates. Kit agreed to fly with both,but he also had his own expectations for the role he’d once held himself. Hetook it as read that an engineer would make the same calculations in his headas he had done, such as knowing at all times how far they could fly at thecurrent rate of fuel consumption. He also expected his engineer to be able tolocate the control cables in the fuselage in the dark, to lower theundercarriage without hydraulics, and a variety of other skills he’d brought toDon’s crew. Neither of the men his sergeants recommended could do these things,and Kit turned them down. It proved to be a mistake.
Flight engineers started avoiding him and teaming up withother pilots. Kit had set his expectations too high and would now be left withthe dregs. After two days only three crews were incomplete, one of which wasKit’s. The following day, a burly Scotsman with flight sergeantstripes climbed out of a crew bus beside N-Nan and introduced himself to Kitwith a smart salute. “Gordon MacDonald, sir. I’ve been temporarily assigned asyour Flight Engineer, sir.”
“How old are you,Flight?” Kit asked, noting the deep lines chiselled into his face. Stu hadmentioned this man as one of the remaining candidates but been dismissive basedon his age.
“Thirty-five, sir. That’s why most of the lads call me‘Daddy.’” He grinned as he admitted this.
“How long have you been in the RAF?”
“Twenty years. Joined as one of Trenchard’s brats in ’24.”
“Fitter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That makes two of us, Daddy. The fitter part, that is. I wasnever a Halton Apprentice. Welcome aboard.” Except for Adrian, who alreadyknew, the rest of Kit’s crew gaped at their commissioned skipper inastonishment. They had not dreamed Kit had once been a lowly erk.
“Ah, sir?” Daddy MacDonald stopped Kit as he turned to mountthe ladder into the aircraft.
“Yes?” Kit waited expectantly.
“The other engineers are saying, like, you expect yourengineer to do a lot of maths in his head. Well, I thought I’d better tell youstraight up that I can’t do that, but I’ve got a very clever wee pencil here.”He pulled the stub of a pencil from behind his ear. “And a pad of paper here,”he tapped the left breast pocket of his battle dress, “and I’ll do thecalculations by hand. They’ll be right that way, skipper.”
“Fair enough,” Kit told him. “Let’s prepare to startengines.”
By the end of that first flight Kit knew Daddy was an asset.The older man was conscientious, meticulous and utterly unflappable. Kit rolledthe Lancaster to prove to himself that he could do it, but it was also aprivate victory roll for getting this far: a Lancaster skipper with a completecrew. He wished Georgina could have been below to see it.
As the dust fell back from the ceiling to the floor Daddyasked in a calm voice, his face utterly impassive, “Do you do that a lot, sir?”
“I don’t plan to do one ever again,” Kit answered honestly.
“In that case, sir, I won’t ask for a transfer after all.”
The rest of the crew burst out laughing, adding theiragreement with loud shouts of “hear! hear!”
"Daddy" MacDonald, the Flight Engineer, is the oldest member of the crew at 35. He's worked his way up through the ranks, and he's married with two kids. As Flight Engineer, Daddy, sits nearest to Kit during flight, and assists during take-off and landing. He's calm, trustworthy, and as a former aircraft mechanic, he knows his job inside.
But Kit's reliance on Daddy goes beyond the professional. It is as much outside the cockpit as in it that Kit comes to rely on Daddy. He trust's Daddy's judgement in a way he doesn't that of his teenage gunners and wireless op. He soon learns that Daddy also has a sound intuitive sense of character.
It doesn't take long before Daddy has become the rock on which Kit can rest some of his burden.However, the consequences for them both is not what they expected.
Excerpt 2:
Whenthe English coast came into sight, the tensionon board eased noticeably. Nigel suggested to Frank over the intercom that theycall over to Kirkby Grange to see if their girls could get away for a drink.Babcock said he had an extra thermos of coffee if anyone wanted it. Morandidn’t have the heart to tell them that they weren’t safe yet. He had to land aLancaster without rudder control; something that was nearly impossible to do.
Theyfound the Woodhall beacon shortly before seven pm. As Tibble flashed their IDto the control caravan, Moran swung onto the circuit like a man facing thegallows. The Lancaster’s wingspan was 102 feet. The runway was fifty feet wide,and the undercarriage took up more than half of that leaving only a few yardson either side. Too much yaw in either direction could put a wheel off thetarmac. At a landing speed of 90 to 95 mph, they would be lucky to go into aflat spin careening across the grass. Alternatively, they might lose anundercarriage leg and tear along the runway on their belly throwing up sparkslikely to ignite the remaining fuel. Or a wingtip could dig into the turf andfling them into a cartwheel.
They received the green light as the flarepath lit up in perfect visibility, but Moran lost his nerve. He aborted,calling into Flying Control that he was going around again. He’d been so grippedwith visualizing his final moments, he’d forgotten to order the crew to crashpositions.
MacDonaldcursed colourfully and then announced bluntly, “I cannae hold her much longer,sir! Ye’ve got to put her down!”
“Understood,Engineer, but I want everyone in crash positions first. Did everyone hear that?Crash positions.” A scramble ensued as the others finally realised the dangerthey were in.
Liningup a second time, Moran called. “Pilot to engineer: we’re going in.”
“Just tell me what rudder ye want.” Thetension in MacDonald’s voice was almost painful. He was, Moran judged, nearingthe end of his strength.
Thewheels brushed the tarmac with a small squeal, and Moran cautiously applied thebrakes. They started to veer left. “Right rudder!” MacDonald over-corrected andthey started to veer right. “Left rudder!” Like a drunk, they wove from side toside down the length of the runway, Moran wincing at each swerve and expectingthe crash to follow. Miraculously it never came. They zig-zagged so much thatas their speed fell away, Moran began imagining the commentary he would get inthe mess. “Just what did you have in that thermos of yours, Moran?”
Hissecond thought was that he had made it. He had returned alive from a sortiethat he’d believed would kill him. His premonition, if it was one, had beenwrong.
Heslowed the aircraft to a stop before the end of the runway and used the outerengines to swing Zebra onto the taxiway. The ground crew signalled them towardsa dispersal point. The Lancaster thudded over the cracks in the concrete towardthe torches lighting a hardstanding. Bishop waved his arms in front of his faceto indicate Moran could switch off the engines, and one after another theMerlins wound down.
Silencereturned — except for the echo of the engines still ringing in his ears — untilall at once his crew seemed to come back to life. A garble of excited voicesfilled the fuselage as they left their crash positions to return to theirstations and collect their kit. Babcock’s laughter sounded slightly hysterical,while the expletives peppering Roper and Osgood’s dialogue revealed heightenedexcitement. Tibble surprisingly, joined in, laughing and chatteringunnaturally, a sure indicator of the magnitude of his relief.
Moranlooked down in disbelief at his hands still on the control column. He wasalive. He was going to see Georgina again. Furtively, he removed one hand togive Zach a pat.
MacDonaldstaggered to the cockpit, sweat streaking his face. “Well done, Skipper.” Hishands trembled with exhaustion, and he flexed his fingers as if to easestiffness or cramps.
Moranlooked up at him and announced bluntly, “I’m putting you in for the DFM.”
MacDonaldlooked astonished. “Ye’re the one who flew the flaming thing!”
“Wewouldn’t be here if you hadn’t jury-rigged that rudder and manhandled it foralmost three hours.” That said, Moran released the straps and tried to pushhimself up out of his seat. He couldn’t. His muscles were too stiff to unfold.
Soundsof some sort of commotion filtered up from the tail. The excited voices of thegunners, exclaiming in wonder and gabbling at a hundred miles an hour, mixedwith shouts of amazement from the ground crew. Peal and Tibble tumbled out oftheir stations to find out what the fuss was about. Torches flashed about inthe tail, and with an inarticulate grumble, MacDonald turned around to go andfind out what was happening. A moment later, Pete Bishop emerged out of thefuselage into the cockpit. “Do you realise you’ve brought our aircraft back witha man-sized hole and the entire second half perforated like a sieve? If youcan’t take better care of her than that, sir, we won’t lend her to you ever again!”
Kitlaughed appreciatively.
“Seriously,sir,” Bishop stopped jesting, “I don’t know how your rear gunner survived.”
“Neitherdo I. The rudder control cables snapped, by the way.”
“Onlythe rudder cables? You must have a flaming guardian angel!”
" MORAL FIBRE" WON THE HEMINGWAY AWARD 2022 FOR 20TH CENTURY WARTIME FICTION
IT ALSO RECEIVED A MAINCREST MEDIA AWARD FOR MILITARY FICTION AND WAS A FINALIST FOR THE BOOK EXCELLENCE AWARD 2023 IN THE CATEGORY HISTORICAL FICTION. 
they took the war to Hitler.
Their chances of survival were less than fifty percent.
Their average age was 21.
This is the story of just one bomber pilot, his crew and the woman he loved.
It is intended as a tribute to them all.
or Barnes and Noble.
"This is the best book on the life of us fighter pilots in the Battle of Britain that I have ever seen.... I couldn't put it down."-- RAF Battle of Britain ace, Wing Commander Bob Doe.
Winner of a Hemingway Award for 20th Century Wartime Fiction, a Maincrest Media Award for Military Fiction and Silver in the Global Book Awards.
Find out more at: https://crossseaspress.com/where-eagles-never-flew
For more information about all my books visit: https://www.helenapschrader.com
Disfiguring injuries, class prejudice and PTSD are the focus of three tales set in WWII by award-winning novelist Helena P. Schrader. Find out more at: https://crossseaspress.com/grounded-eagles
