Last year I met Flying Officer Leech at Waterloo Station. He introduced me to his beautiful young wife, bride of a few months, He said he had a desk at the Air Ministry.
"You—at a desk?" I was incredulous.
He told me that while serving in an aircraft-carrier in China waters he had been infected with some my-serious germ. They did not know what it was. They knew only the results, He would never fly again in the Service, but' he was planning to sneak in some private flying. He was very steady and cheerful about Four months ago he went to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, London, after struggling against his mysterious malady for 15 months. Now he is dead at 31.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.