| Officer: So you want to be a fighter pilot. | 
| Recruit: A Starfighter Pilot, Sir. | 
| O: And why particularly the Starfighter? | 
| R: Because Sir, I am in love with this aircraft. | 
| This magnificent engine of | 
| steal and gleam. | 
| O: That’s very poetic. | 
| Please continue. | 
| R: This aerocynamic Delilah. | 
| Its uptilted wings and sidewinder rockets. | 
| Its clear curving cockpit cover, the whirling of dials and needles. | 
| The illustrious uniform of the Federal German Airforce. | 
| The click of the heels | 
| in salute, the flare of the jacket, the wide, long-skirted hang of it, and oh, | 
| the low shiny peak of the cap. | 
| O: I think that’s enough. | 
| R: But Sir, the danger, and the glory of death. | 
| A young and dashing life gone up in flames. | 
| Blonde maidens weeping. | 
| To die for one’s country. | 
| To set forth in a silver lance too joust with the forces of darkness. | 
| O: They don’t always crash, you know. | 
| R: It would be an honour to crash in such a plane. | 
| O: To be mangled and scorched? | 
| R: To be hideously mutilated beyond the recognition of one’s own mother. | 
| O: Is that makeup you’re wearing? | 
| R: Makeup, Sir? | 
| O: Makeup. | 
| Makeup. | 
| You know it’s what the ladies wear. | 
| R: Not all ladies wear makeup, sir. | 
| O: Well what’s that black stuff around your eyes. | 
| Is that mascara? | 
| R: All right. | 
| I can see it’s no good lying to you, sir. | 
| I confess. | 
| It is mascara. | 
| But… only a little bit. | 
| O: What on Earth for? | 
| R: It’s my mother, sir. | 
| O: Your mother? | 
| R: You see my mother was the first woman to fly the Atlantic in a (pause) Gaseo | 
| Glider. | 
| O: A Gaseo Glider? | 
| R: A machine of my father’s invention. | 
| You see he was too much of a | 
| professional aeronautical inventor to actually fly it himself, so my mother | 
| took it, and tried to fly it singlehanded across the Atlantic. | 
| O: And what happened? | 
| R: She… she crashed. | 
| Spun down into the sea and was never seen again. | 
| They found only her false eyelashes, floating. | 
| And so, you see, ever since I have worn mascara in her sacred memory. | 
| O: I see. | 
| R: Well sir. | 
| Do I get a plane? | 
| O: In view of the confessions you have just made, which must have taken a great | 
| deal of courage, I consider you an ideal type for the job. | 
| There’s a plane for you waiting on the runway. | 
| The sergeant will give you an | 
| instruction manual on the way out. | 
| Oh, and by the way, eh, Von Trippenhoff… | 
| R: Sir? | 
| O: Don’t let the CO catch you wearing makeup on duty. | 
| At least not in uniform, | 
| understand? | 
| R: But Sir… | 
| O: Alright then. | 
| But very subtly applied, is that clear? | 
| R: I understand, Sir. | 
| O: Right on, Von Trippenhoff. | 
| R: Righty Oh, Sir. |