Short story by Frederick Forsythe. In the early fifties, a Vampire pilot, headed home for holiday leave, has a total electrical failure. Being on top with no comms, nav, instruments - nothing. Add a dwindling fuel supply and the plot thickens. Out of the evening sky slides a wwII vintage Mosquito and forms up. The pilot indicates follow me down, eventually resulting in visual conditions. Further guidance to a lighted airport then the Mosquito climbs away. Later conversation with the airport manager revealed that a similar Mosquito had disappeared in 1944 - same time of year. Forsythe was an RAF Vampire pilot himself.