Chapter 11

Entertaining the Troops

Before I went off to New York, a notice had been put on the board in the crew room, asking for volunteers to fly the troops in and out of Aden when the trouble there was at its height. Apparently there weren't enough military aircraft available to fly replacement troops out and bring back those who had finished their terms of duty. So our company offered its aircraft and therefore required volunteer crews, since they couldn't force us to go into a war zone. Before going to New York, I had discussed this with the girls in the apartment, and not one of them was going to volunteer. As a supporter of lost causes I was incensed by their lack of patriotism, and I put my name down on the board.

Crewing phoned me to say that I would be on the first flight to Aden leaving the next morning. My parents always worried about me flying, so I told them I was going to Malta. This wasn't exactly a lie, as we stopped there to refuel on the way out and had three days off there as a bonus on the return journey. I set off thinking the trip would be a great giggle and a bit of an adventure. All the flight deck crew were very young men, and the cabin staff consisted of a very confident girl as the Number One, one other girl, a steward, and me. I was the bar girl again. This came to be one of my favorite positions-to fly in, that is!

We started off full of high spirits. We had a full load of soldiers from a very famous Welsh regiment. They turned the life jacket demonstration into a riot, shouting out all sorts of rude things and pinching our asses at every opportunity. Normally I detest this type of behavior in passengers, but these boys were welcome to touch me all they wanted to! After all, it was a certainty that not all of them would be coming home. I marveled at their bravery. The captain bought them all a beer each, and they then proceeded to drink every drop of alcohol on board-and who could blame them! They weren't any trouble at all. They boozed themselves to sleep. I spent more time than usual in the cabin chatting to them, as did the rest of the cabin staff. We were only staying in Aden three days, otherwise I might have offered to give all hundred and thirty-two of them one, but decided to single out two, one for each night.

I picked the first one solely because of his good looks and confidence. He had a sort of conceited air. I only had to look at him to know that he was hiding something very large inside his pants. All I can say is that in my opinion a big cock is just as liable to make a man cock-stupid as cocksure! Anyway, Joe was my first choice. I told him quite frankly where I was staying and how welcome he would be to visit me. I didn't have to spell it out. He knew exactly what I meant.

Now that I had picked an officer, I wanted to pick one man from the ranks. The second guy I selected to be the recipient of my favors was the complete opposite of Joe. He was small and fair-haired, with the beginnings of a mangy mustache. He was very gentle, shy, and retiring. I had a hard job striking up a conversation with him, but I persevered and eventually managed to pry his name out of him. It was Trevor. With fluttering eyelids and undulating hips I proffered Trevor the same invitation-only for the day after Joe. I don't know if he really cottoned on to exactly what

I was offering, but his face broke out into a lovely smile as he nodded his assent. Nine times out of ten I wouldn't have given a guy like this a second look, but this was destined to be a very special occasion.

When we landed at Aden Airport I said to Trevor as he disembarked, "Don't forget to come for tea and crumpets the day after tomorrow." The flight had been great fun, but once we had arrived in Aden, I began to get very scared. The aircraft was parked in a small space surrounded by high barbed wire, and two soldiers manning massive machine guns were stationed at each end of it. We went through customs and had everything searched very thoroughly. Then the eight of us were ushered out to an old coach. Two soldiers with a machine gun each were positioned at each end of the coach. We were asked to sit together at the front because it was more difficult for snipers to pick us off there.

Aden appeared to be nothing but a mass of rubble, and we had arrived during the curfew. Suddenly a bullet shattered one of the back windows of the coach. I jumped straight onto our big burly engineer's lap. The armed guard shouted out for us all to lie face down on the floor. I can tell you I was the first to hit the deck! We spent the rest of the journey face down on the filthy floor of the coach. When we drew up outside our hotel, I was a nervous wreck. I wished I were a million miles away, but I had chosen to come and was stuck there. We were instructed to bunch together and run into the hotel. I stuck with the engineer. The chances of a bullet hitting me when I had his big bulk behind me were very slight. We all arrived safely in the hotel lobby. Our white shirts and blouses were crumpled and covered with dust. The other girls had dirty smudges all over their faces. I presumed I looked equally enchanting! We all went to our rooms to have a good scrub and change out of our filthy clothes.

We met about half an hour later in the captain's room. We all had a drink, and the captain told us that we would be confined to the hotel for the whole three days. We could venture out in the daytime if we wished, but only with one of the flight deck to protect us. All of the girls and the steward voted unanimously to give the sights of Aden a miss. We were all chicken. I considered myself far too young to die and tried hard to sleep despite the sound of gunfire and hand grenades going off at intervals.

When I awoke in the morning the sun was streaming in through my window. I went out onto the balcony. There was a bare patch of ground in front of the hotel on which some scruffy kids were playing football. There was a barracks to the right, and I could see the sea sparkling and dancing in the sunlight beyond that. Everything was calm. Too calm. A sort of heavy, expectant silence hung in the air. There were a few natives walking the streets, but almost on tiptoe and always casting furtive glances over their shoulders. Except for the atmosphere of suspense, I could have been looking out at a scene in any Middle Eastern country on a brilliant sunshiny day. I ventured farther out onto the balcony and hung over the balustrade. One or two of the young lads playing football waved to me. I waved back.

Suddenly the calm was shattered by a burst of gunfire. Everyone fled from the barren piece of ground. I darted back into my room. Eventually the gunfire ceased, and everything went deathly still. I ventured out onto the balcony to see a man lying immediately below (I was on the second floor) in a great pool of blood. I wanted to jump over the balcony and go to his aid, but before I could make any move, he was pulled into the shelter of the hotel by a group of people. I stared at the ground, into which his newly spilled blood was seeping. The ground sucked it in as though it was used to such a spillage of human blood. Suddenly I caught sight of a dark figure running at full speed toward the barracks. He lifted his arm and threw a hand grenade over the wall. There was a loud explosion, and a big cloud of dust and debris flew up into the air. I heard the sound of running feet, and about two dozen soldiers armed to the hilt, poured through the barracks gate. The guy who had hurled the grenade had vanished like a black bat into the shadows thrown by the buildings on the far side of the square. All went quiet once more, and the soldiers retreated behind the walls. T couldn't believe what I had just seen. It was like being at the cinema. I had become totally involved in the action in front of me, but once it was over, I realized I wasn't sitting in a four-dollar seat in a luxurious cinema. I was actually on the spot, and what had passed before my eyes was not make-believe, but a very real and horrifying thing-people at war, men killing men, filled full of hate and venom. More than ever my motto was: make love, not war! The flight deck went out in the daytime, but all of the cabin staff stayed in and played cards, read, ate, and dozed.

Joe was scheduled to arrive that evening. We had dinner in the hotel. He was as good-looking as ever, but still exuded an overpowering air of conceit, and if anything bored me, it was conceit! However, I'd given my word, and, after all, it might be the last fuck the poor guy would ever have, or at least would have for the next few months. I really don't think a lonely jerk-off behind a closed lavatory door brings quite the same satisfaction. I decided my first impression of him had been accurate. He was terribly conceited and practically told me I was a very lucky girl to be going out with him. (He completely forgot that / had chosen him.) I agreed with him, and he smiled and said that he knew several girls who would like to be in my place and that they wanted him for only one thing.

I whispered with wide-open eyes, "I'm sure they did, I'm sure they did."

I must say that he was a smashing-looking fellow, and my only hope was that he had something to be conceited about. I went up to my room, and Joe followed discreetly a few minutes later. He asked if he could have a shower, which pleased me. I love the smell of a freshly washed male body.

While he was in the shower I took off my clothes, folded them neatly on a chair and waited for the action to begin. I heard water rushing in the bathroom, and then Joe called out, "Can you pass me a towel?" I went in to find him still under the shower, and I must admit that his body was a beauty! He was more than six feet tall, with good muscles and a narrow waist and hips. He looked like just what I wanted, but looking lower, I positively gasped, for out of a huge blue black bush hung a cock that must have been ten inches long and about three inches thick.

My first thought was, "What a beauty!" And my second thought was, "How the fucking hell am I going to get that thing inside my tiny tunnel!" He stepped out of the shower and asked me to dry him. As he had thick black hair on his chest and on his back, and a bush to match, this took some time. It was then that my first doubts arose, for although I lifted his balls to drv under his crotch and rubbed his cock softly up and down it stayed down, and this was something I wasn't used to. Taking him by the hand, I led him into the bedroom. After all, I thought, he may need to lie down. We lay down, and I kissed him on the mouth and told him he had the biggest cock I'd ever seen.

"That's what they all say," he replied, showing his inimitable display of tact!

I wanted to bite his tongue off. Instead I decided to see if I could fit it into my mouth. If not, I'd have to think seriously about my cunt. I shoved it in with some difficulty. It made breathing a little difficult, and although I sucked and sucked, it remained large and limp. I took it out, lifted it up, and let it fall like a dead snake.

"That was great," Joe said. "Do it again."

So I did it again, but nothing happened. I got up and took a large swig of water. Then I got down to work. I went down to him and put my fingers between his balls and lifted them up. Then I put my tongue on the underneath of the bag and slowly licked upwards, forcing each ball in turn into my mouth and chewing on them gentiy. Then I licked right up his cock and put the circumcised head in my mouth again and took its floppy tip out and licked with the point of my very long tongue around the rim. Then I traveled up to his stomach where, parting the hair around his navel, I licked that, and then on to his nipples, which were also on the large side. I sucked them and bit them in turn, while I held his balls in both my hands. I rubbed them slowly together.

Joe kept groaning and saying I was wonderful, but

I didn't have to look to see that his cock was still as big and lifeless as ever. I decided on drastic action. After all, I'm not used to the insult of a dead cock when I make love. I went to the Thermos jug and filled my mouth with the remaining ice. I went back to Joe and almost swallowed his penis. He gave the sort of dying jerk a cobra might give that has just been beaten to death, but that was all. I lay down beside him, expecting apologies. For if there's one thing the normal man can't forgive himself, it's failure in bed. (Let me digress a moment here and say that it's nice sometime to have a man in a gently satisfied mood so you can examine and look at him and kiss him. After all, sex isn't everything, and if you really like a guy, it's great to be able to relax him so that he's contented and happy, and you can gently fondle him and play with him. If only men would relax, it would be lovely, but they always seem to think a limp cock is a reflection on their manhood and start feeling guilty, which spoils the whole thing.) However, Joe was carrying the thing a bit too far or, rather, not carrying it at all. He was like some big beautiful doll which simply lay there and did sweet nothing. There's no use having a giant-sized dong if you can't play the smallest tune on it! I was preparing to muster what remaining forces I had when Joe said something that almost knocked me over with surprise.

"Well, Fiona. Did you ever see such a super cock? T'll bet that after some of the men you've seen, you can't believe your luck in having tasted my magnificent cock. Don't you think you're a lucky girl?" he asked.

I was nonplussed. "Oh. very!" I replied, trying hard not to be sarcastic. "You've got a fabulous face, a beautiful body, and a superb cock. What more could a poor girl ask for?"

He seemed pleased that I appreciated his good points and realized my good fortune, for a look of considerable self-satisfaction spread over his face as he lay back and asked me to kiss him. This I did with about a much enthusiasm as taking a cold shower, but Joe never seemed to notice. I was beginning to realize that he was so pleased with himself that if I'd said that he smelt like a piece of dead fish and was about as much use in bed, he would somehow have turned it into a compliment. He lay there a few moments in a daze of self-satisfaction while I wondered whether or not I should get up and lock myself in the bathroom until he had gone. Gradually raising himself up on the bed, he said, "Well, now that you've had your pleasure, I think I'll have mine. Lie on your back, please."

I wondered if some miracle had occurred and there had been a revival of the dead cobra, but a quick feel told me it was as dead as a dodo. However, I lay back, opened my legs, thought of England, and prayed for a miracle. One did not happen, but something else did, for having got me into the missionary position, he started trying to stuff his limp dick into me. It was so unexciting that I felt myself drying up like the Sahara, and that put me off even more. Usually when I get excited I get so wet I feel I could manage an elephant's trunk, but now I couldn't accommodate a dwarf's little finger.

"I guess you're one of those who needs greasing up," he said and ambled across the room to his coat pocket. "I've got a tube of KY here," he said-a remark which made me realize that my reactions were not an uncommon experience for him. He plied my dried-up engine with jelly and started again. Unfortunately I kept pushing him out even though I was trying to welcome him. Then an awful thing happened. I burst out laughing. I had suddenly remembered that one Christmas somebody had given me a round box with the words "Chocolate Bonbons" written cn the lid, but when I opened the box, out jumped a wire snake painted green. Once out, I couldn't get it back into its case. Every time I pressed the wire in, something happened and out jumped the snake again. The comparison was so exact that I split my sides laughing. Joe looked surprised, and I laughed louder. He looked frightfully put out. I became hysterical. He was also genuinely puzzled.

"What's so funny?" he asked, but I was beyond telling him. I turned away, got out of bed, and went into the bathroom, trying all the time to think of something else, but failing and laughing more and more until the tears were pouring down my cheeks. When I came out of the bathroom, Joe was fully dressed. He stormed out without a word. I got back into bed, and my hysteria died down. I couldn't help thinking how sad the whole thing was. Here was a man so good-looking you would go to bed with him for his looks alone. Added to this, he had a sensational body and a cock just made to open cunts with, and yet the net result had been that we had lain together for an. hour without any passion or pleasure. The whole thing had been a bloody waste, and I almost cried myself to sleep. The rest of the night was quiet, and we spent the following day much as the previous one-not daring to go out.

Trevor arrived to see me looking a bit sheepish later that afternoon. I said that I was thrilled to see him and glad that he had been able to get away. He had had to make up some story about visiting a very close relation who was staying at the hotel and had escaped from the barracks for a few hours. He didn't ask me to dine or even inquire if I were hungry, but just came straight up to my room. I opened the door in answer to his knock dressed, in the flimsiest of oyster-pink negligees. He rushed in and kissed me full on the lips. Not wanting to waste time, I said that I would just be a moment and went into the bathroom to splash some more perfume on my already scrupulously clean body. I came out stripped for immediate action.

However, I nearly rushed back into the bathroom, because Trevor was taking his pants off as I came in and displaying just about the smallest cock I've ever seen. Talk about being a good picker! Out of a hundred and thirty-two able-bodied men I'd managed to pick out the biggest and now the tiniest cock in the regiment! My kisses and the ample glimpse of my naked body through the fine material of my negligee had obviously worked, for it was erect-all three inches of it-otherwise I don't think I could have seen it. I thought to myself that this was really going from the sublime to the ridiculous, but the sublime had in fact turned out to be ridiculous. First of all, I found a dead cock ten inches long, and now I found myself face to face with one three inches long when erect! What had I done to deserve it? After all, I was only trying to keep up the morale of our brave lads in Aden.

What saved the situation was the fact that he didn't seem the least embarrassed, but came over to where I was leaning weakly against the door. He kissed me, pressed against me, and smiled. I liked his smile and decided he could stay. At any rate, he had an erection. Finally he took me to the bed, pushed me firmly down, and took one of the pillows and placed it under my behind. Then he put his arms under my legs and pushed my knees back against my stomach and put his weapon into me. I felt wet and knew things would be all right. Lying that way, his cock was as big as I or any girl could have wanted. He kept up a steady thrusting motion so that my cunt soon got into his rhythm although I couldn't move my body much with my legs pushed right back. His fucking was strong. While he pushed into me, he spat saliva into my left ear and then pushed his tongue around and then down into my ear drum. I found that this was most exciting until he inserted his tongue so far that it created an almost deafening crackle against my ear drum. This made me try to turn my head away. Trevor then treated the other ear in the same way, and I felt a climax coming.

But when I came, digging my nails into his back and crying out in pleasure, Trevor paid no attention and went on steadily fucking. I asked him to stay still so that I might relax. He ignored me, and gradually my desire for rest gave way once again to excitement, and I knew that he was going to give me a multiple orgasm. Steadily he plowed on, sometimes giving me an earful of saliva, sometimes kissing my mouth and eyes or licking my face. Whatever he did, however, he never kept still, but kept thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, and I felt myself slipping again into a dissolving world. This time he came with me. He gave a strangulated cry. I could feel his hot seed spurting into me, but his movements backward and forwards never ceased.

A girl who wants to be an exceptional lover must prepare! I had come for a record time, and my body was poised between the desire to go on fucking or slipping into a passive state of fulfillment. My cunt had exploded again and again in climax after climax, and this created a feeling of well being and a desire to rest. Trevor had come, too, and that caused my body to want to relax and drown in a sea of his sperm. Had he relaxed, my body would have followed suit automatically, and we would have ended where other lovers end-in sleep. It would have been a lovely night, but nothing exceptional to remember, certainly not the screw of a lifetime. But far from stopping, Trevor was going on in and out. His cock still felt hard, but the motion had slowed down. Suddenly he called for help.

"Pinch my nipples as hard as you can and kiss me. Then I can go on fucking you!"

I did as he commanded, and that was the crucial moment. Had I not done what he asked or said that I was tired or begged him to wait a minute, he would have died inside me. He was one of those men who can go on fucking after he has come as long as his lover is prepared to excite him in the way he wants, but it's a tricky, sticky moment. A man must like a girl very much to want to go on, and if he pays her that compliment, she should be ready to do what he wants. I did exactly what he wanted. I pinched and bit his nipples as hard as I could. I pushed my tongue as far as I could into his mouth and gave him a tongue massage. I soon felt a difference in his fucking. His thrusts became steadier and less desperate and erratic. I had helped him over the moment of doubt, and he was in physical charge once again. Trevor took over the kissing, and I soon felt myself approaching culmination yet again. He now showed that imagination which is the basis of all good lovemaking and changed positions so that I felt something new was happening to me and got excited quicker than I would have done if we had tried to go on in the same way as before.

Positions in sex are a matter about which there are a good many misunderstandings, and I would like to make my own position clear. Sometimes I have been to bed with a guy whose one idea was to show that he knew seventy ways of making a girl happy. The result was that as soon as he had got down to humping away in the missionary position and my body was just turning itself to the strokes, he would suddenly say, "Hey, let's change." The cock would be roughly extracted (always an unpleasant experience for a girl). One would be turned around and put into the "mating dog position," the cock would be roughly replaced, and fucking would be recommenced without an exciting transition for me. Just as my cunt would be getting used to the change, there would be another "Hey, let's change." The cock would be out, and the tongue would be trying hard to take over. Sex like this quite simply doesn't work satisfactorily. Lovemaking has got to start in the mind to be successful, and if a man's thinking of showing off his athletic knowledge in bed, he won't be thinking of the girl he's fucking and what pleases her. This type of man and his penis have no way of getting off the ground.

I was thinking this when Trevor lay back again and heaved up his behind, which drove his cock upwards into me. He repeated this over and over. I found myself getting juiced up once more, and he contributed to this by putting his hands under my ankles and lifting them. At the same time he told me to clasp my legs under the knees, and he held me this way as if I were an instrument, and he were entirely in control playing a tune on me with his formidable bow. We were making beautiful music. He was the conductor in sole charge, and there was no way J. could strike a wrong note. This position has a snag, though. It's painful on your back, and after some time I needed release. He sensed this and raised my ankles right up in the air and opened his legs wide. I fell right back between his legs, and his cock slipped out, but he was back inside in a flash. This time he pushed my legs right back as far as they would go. He parted them until he could look down at me between the crotch of my legs, and I rested my shoulders on the bed with my pussy right up in the air. This again is a better position for a small cock and gives a girl great pleasure. A big cock feels as if it's violating the womb, while a small one inserted right up to the hilt with the balls banging against the outer portals feels perfect pushed backwards and forwards on a slant into the cunt. Trevor's manhood felt this way to me, and I started a climax that became multiple.

How many times I came I have no idea, but he continued fucking at a steady pace, this way and that way until the sweat streamed from both our bodies, running in great rivulets on to the sheets. Time ceases to count in the throes of a multiple orgasm. I merely sank into a sea of sex in which my body took over from me and heaved itself onto his cock, which ebbed and flowed, but never ebbed away completely, so that I seemed to come without stopping while I called his name and scratched at his body. It seemed we'd been fucking since the beginning of time. Suddenly his thrusting became fiercer and fiercer, and sweat drenched us as he cried out, "Fiona, Fiona, I love you!" I could feel the whole of his body flow into me, and my cunt filled and burst with liquid passion that submerged and drowned his cock with love. I was satisfied and exhausted, and no girl could ask for more. I lay in his arms with my head on his shoulder. I could feel his heart beating and smell his manhood. I love this. After a girl has been well and truly fucked, she wants to be able to relax completely in the care of the man responsible. I drifted off to sleep perfectly contented. The atrocities outside seemed a million miles away. I awoke to a wonderful new feeling.

As I said before, I love to go to sleep in a man's arms, covered with his sweat and smelling his love juices. However, when I wake up I want to start making love again. Usually I love to wash myself first of all from top to toe in order to start the day completely fresh and clear, but that morning I felt a lovely cool mouth which started slowly at my toes and worked its way up the insides of my legs, into my crotch, over my tummy and breasts and up to my armpits. Then I was turned over, and the same thing happened to my backside. A towel had been put under me while I slept, and another warm one was now put over me, and I was gently dried all over. Then I felt another coolness and could smell the delicious odor of my exotic perfume being rubbed and massaged into my skin. My body began to undulate in an involuntary way when his hands touched the nape of my neck and trailed along my backbone to the sensitive hollow where my buttocks swelled out. Then I felt him opening my legs, and he went down on me, delicately opening my lower lips with his teeth. He took my clit between his teeth sucking softly, then harder and harder.

I felt that fantastic morning eroticism, which can only come after a night of perfect fucking, take over my body. He awakened me slowly, and I felt a great arousal commence in my womb. Trevor was lying on his side, and now he placed me on my side too. Then he put his tiny cock in front of my mouth. I was able to swallow the whole delicious little morsel with ease. I felt protective, randy, and grateful as he came into my mouth. I rubbed my clit and came with him in perfect unison.

The telephone rang while I still had Trevor's cock in my mouth. I licked my lips and picked up the phone. It was the big prick himself-by that I mean Joe.' I really didn't have anything to say to him, but I enjoyed this conversation.

"Hello," he said. "When am I going to honor your cunt with my super cock?" he asked.

"I'm leaving tonight," I replied, "and couldn't possibly fit you in between now and then."

Of course he took it as a compliment that I alluded to the size of his cock. He replied, "But you're missing out on the biggest cock in Aden, possibly in the whole world." I felt like telling him to go and stuff it up his left nostril!

"You couldn't possibly let my magnificent manhood slip out of your hands," he said.

"I couldn't care less," I said. "There's one lesson you've got to learn, and that is that it's not the size that counts, but what you do with it, and to be quite frank, you haven't got a clue." I banged the receiver down.

"Who was that?" Trevor asked.

"Just a tiresome big prick!" I replied.

I lay back happily exhausted, and when I awoke he had gone-gone out to fight the enemy. If he were anywhere near as good a soldier as he was a lover, those bastards didn't stand a chance! Trevor could destroy the world with his revolver in his hand.

We left Aden the same way we had arrived. All the crew gathered together and rushed out to the bus which was taking us to the airport. I didn't have to be told-I simply lay down on the floor as the coach rattled along the rough roads. As I lay face down in the dirt I thought over the events that had taken place during my three-day stay. As I said before, I had set out to raise the morale of the troops and also to enjoy myself. Joe's morale was probably considerably lower as a result, but his skin was as thick as pig shit, and I'm sure he considered me a dead loss and wouldn't be upset for a moment. Trevor was something else-highly sexed, tender and loving. I hoped with all my heart that he would come home safely. He wrote to me in care of the airline at odd intervals during his term of duty-formal, but friendly, letters-and told me the date of his arrival back in the UK, but I never did get to see him again. Trevor, wherever you are, thanks for everything! You were so generous in bed! Someday, somewhere, a girl will be very lucky to have you for life. If you need a reference, just ask me. God love you!

We all ran out of the bus and into the customs hall. Every single particle of luggage and clothing was taken apart and searched. The bomb squad who were rummaging us said that a favorite trick with the room boys at the hotel was to put a hand grenade or some other type of homemade bomb into the luggage of an outgoing crew. This would be set to go off after takeoff, thus getting rid of an aircraft, numerous soldiers, and a crew. (Three weeks later we heard that an aircraft carrying troops was blown up in the air shortly after takeoff.) I was petrified. At last we were cleared and taken out to the aircraft. The guard was still there. We boarded the aircraft to start our pre-flight duties. We had a full load of soldiers returning to the UK. Our engineer had no ground crew helping him, and he wanted to drip the tanks of the Brit to see how much fuel we needed, so I volunteered my services. I now know how to drip the tanks on a Brit, a piece of knowledge I will never need again, but it was great to be of service to him. I pulled down the hollow drip stick to the fuel level. Once the level is reached, the fuel drips out. We dripped all four tanks, and I ended up drenched from top to toe in fuel. Our passengers back to the UK were full of joy. They sang rude songs, and we all joined in. The relief to us all was tremendous. We were flying back to safety-well, almost!

Malta is quite a hairy airport. I was sitting in the-ladies' John for landing, strapped into the seat facing the mirror. The rolling cart was stowed next to me. I knew we had touched down because the cart had started to rattle. I unstrapped myself and went out into the cabin. To my horror I realized we were gaining speed, not slowing down. I ran back to my seat and strapped myself in just as the aircraft lifted off the runway. I found out afterwards that we had landed too far down the tarmac and had run out of runway, and although the wheels had touched the ground we had to overshoot. We climbed up and circled around for the second attempt. I went to all the emergency exits and made absolutely sure that no obstacles were placed in front of them. I wasn't about to go down with this aircraft. I am happy to record that the second attempt was a perfect landing.

We changed crews in Malta. A flight crew had been positioned from London to take the aircraft back because we had earned three days of well-deserved rest in Malta. We all did nothing but lie by the pool of the Modern Imperial Hotel and rest. We chatted about the events in Aden. Now that we were out safely, it seemed like a far distant dream. We even cracked jokes about it. But I was so thankful to be alive and well. Malta was a complete sexual rest for me. I had had about as much action from all sides as anybody could need or hope for. As it turned out, we had an extra few days of sunshine and fun in Malta. Without exception, we were all grateful to be alive and appreciated a hundredfold all the simple things in life-good food, sunshine, and a little wine. We were due to go home on an aircraft coming from Johannesburg, but the aircraft had had to make an emergency landing in Tripoli with undercarriage trouble. All the passengers had to be night-stopped there with the crew until the trouble was put right.

We stayed on in the sun while the crew in Tripoli struggled in the heat to cope with a hundred thirty-two irate passengers. We considered that their problems were minor after all we'd been through. Eventually the aircraft was serviceable and arrived in Malta. I prayed that the undercarriage problems had been cured once and for all. No sooner had we got off the ground than I heard the familiar rumble of the gear being locked into position. I breathed a great sigh of relief and continued happily about my duties. We had been in the air for a little while when the Number One came down and told me that Malta airport had just radioed to say they thought from the marks on the runway we had burst a tire on takeoff. We didn't, of course, inform the passengers. We just carried on as normal. When we arrived at London airport we had to fly past the control tower with the gear down so they could see whether the tire was intact. Thank heaven it was, and we landed without incident.