Well here's the conclusion. Enjoy.... if anyone's been reading...
â€œLetâ€™s land this baby. I managed to get out from under that wing. Blocked by intercom, it did. Everybody else bail out?â€ Mills asked in bewilderment. He had been cut off from the others, stuck in the tail of the aircraft. He had no knowledge of Wilsonâ€™s plan.
â€œYes. They bailed out. Now you will too. Iâ€™m staying. I will not allow my ship to crash into Buckingham Palace,â€ Wilson said quietly.
â€œBut youâ€™ll need my help to land her. The controls-â€œMills blurted.
â€œThe controls are all but gone,â€ Wilson said as the very cables controlling the craftâ€™s list dangled by his head. â€œDonâ€™t you see? Iâ€™m not going to land her. Iâ€™m going to crash her. As far from the Palace as I can. Go Robert. You have your whole life ahead of you!â€ Wilson pleaded. Mills swallowed and shook his head stubbornly.
â€œI canâ€™t abandon you like this!â€ Mills cried.
â€œYes you can. Itâ€™ll be easy. Iâ€™ll help you, even,â€ replied Wilson. Confusion entered Robbyâ€™s mind as Wilson grabbed his parachute lever and kicked him in the chest, sending him out; falling away from the Rebecca with his parachute safely deployed. Wilson quickly returned to the cockpit; steeling himself for the eternity awaiting him.
Mills observed the final moments of the Rebeccaâ€™s final flight in frustration and overwhelming grief. The once beautiful aircraft took on the appearance of a dying whale as the gap between itself and the Buckingham Palace courtyard closed in seconds.
â€œGod help those people. Danny!â€ Robert shouted as the Rebecca reached the roof of the Palace. The stress and previous damage must have been too great for such a steep dive. Engine four, destroyed by the Germanâ€™s gunfire, tore free from the Rebeccaâ€™s wing and exploded harmlessly in mid-air, turning the Rebecca completely over with the force. Upside-down, the Rebecca narrowly missed the Union Jack flagpole in the center of the Palace roof , showering shrapnel and debris along her final flight path.
â€œGoodbye, Danny boy,â€ whispered Robert Mills. Still floating to earth, he saluted the growing tower of deathly-black smoke rising form the Palace courtyard, a funeral pyre fit for a king. Mills looked into the early morning sunrise where the rest of the Rebeccaâ€™s surviving crew also respectfully saluted the best Captain they ever had, albeit for only one mission. Captain Daniel â€œDanny Boyâ€ Wilson had just graduated from the Royal Flight Academy one week earlier. He was only twenty-one years oldâ€¦