The woman looked at me hard, like I was responsible that we were being sent to Guyana and not France. I shrugged my shoulders and I donned the suit.
"Why disguise ourselves as well?" she asked, pulling the zipper.
"Because at 13,000 yards it is cold and oxygen is required when parachuting," I said, pointing to the helmet and tank.
"Parachuting? I could never do that! I don't know how. You have?" she asked. Her hands dropped the suit to her feet.
"There are many things that we can never do, yet we must!" I smiled sadistically and she went away to dress. I jumped into the cockpit and I turned on the radio, waiting for the starting signal. The woman was shaking and I felt no need to reassure her. She made me feel uncomfortable.