In the morning we were up early, checked out of the hotel and back out to the base before the sun was even a hint on the eastern horizon. The operations room was much more active, it was almost a madhouse but we still attracted a lot of strange looks. Just as we were coming in someone yelled out, "Silence!"

We stood by the door as a Major hopped up on the counter, "Listen up people!" When the room was quiet he continued, "All pilot assignments are being reviewed and updated, they'll be posted shortly, until then nobody can tell you anything so just stand by!"

A 2nd Lieutenant, brand new by appearances, was standing near us and looking curiously at us, "What's going on?"

"They must have served some bad food in the officer's mess last night, half the people that ate there are sicker than dogs this morning. They have to rearrange the flights based on priority and who's available. What are you ladies doing here?"

"Finding out our assignments, what about you?"

He stared at me in shock, and then at Buffy, she pointed to the wings on her leather jacket and grinned at him like a Cheshire cat. "What on earth can you fly?"

Her grin slipped into a scowl, "Anything you can buddy-boy, and probably a hell of a lot better!"

"You have got to be kidding!"

Buffy's scowl increased and she pointed to the silver bar on her epaulettes, "No, and Lieutenant it's 'you have to be kidding, sir!'"

"Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am."

"Buffy, settle," I turned to him, looking at his leather jacket I saw his name stenciled under the wings, "It's okay Lieutenant Franklin, she's always a little testy in the morning before she's had her coffee."

I took Buffy's arm and directed her over to the coffee kiosk where we each got a mug and a couple of donuts and then found a corner to sit and wait for them to get things sorted out. Buffy went back to reading her manual and I dug out the pilot's manual for the B-17 I was studying. I didn't know if I would ever have the opportunity but if I did I wanted to be ready to qualify on the big bomber if I had the chance.

Fifteen minutes later and the Major came around the counter and posted several sheets of paper on a big bulletin board; it was immediately swarmed by the waiting officers. Buffy and I kept our seats until most had cleared out and then walked over. I was scanning the sheets looking for our names but hadn't spotted them yet when Buffy grabbed my arm, tight enough I felt some Slayer behind it, and pulled me off to the side. I followed without resisting, I knew better; once we were alone I asked her, "What's the problem? And lighten up a little!"

She eased her grip as she looked up at me, "I want to go, will you go along or do you want to go back to the hotel and call in sick?"

"Buffy, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Didn't you see our names?"

"No."

"P-38s, 2nd element of a flight of four."

"Yeah?" We'd ferried P-38s all over the States.

"To Scotland!"

I stared at her; we weren't supposed to fly outside of North America; at least that was the general understanding, but to get the chance to fly the Atlantic? Yeah, I could see that, I could also see us getting into a world of shit, "We could get in bad trouble, Buffy."

"We're just following orders."

"Yeah, but we won't get past the flight line, as soon as they see us they'll kick us out."

"The flight is supposed to leave in half an hour, let's just get in our gear and get in the planes. We're 2nd element, flight lead has to deal with the flight plan and the rest of the paperwork; he probably won't be there until we're ready to go."

Reluctantly I nodded agreement, ferrying across the North Atlantic was the big time, especially in a fighter even if it was a twin engine bird. We went back to get our gear, I checked the board as I walked by and found our names on the sheet titled "Overseas", and noted the aircraft number I was assigned to. We grabbed our gear and headed out of the room, Buffy taking the lead. She walked down several hallways until she found a deserted office, we went in and she shut and locked the door.

We quickly stripped and pulled on long underwear and then I put on the shirt and pants I'd worn the day before. I slipped off the shoes I had on and pulled on the heavy fur lined flying boots, then bloused the bottoms of the pants over the tops of the boots with a couple of condoms, a trick a marine flying sergeant had taught us. It would be cold at altitude and P-38s weren't known for having great cockpit heaters. I started to slip into the parachute when I saw Buffy pulling out her old flying coveralls; we didn't usually wear them on ferry flights. She pulled them on over the rest of her clothes, turning herself into something of a butterball but covering the curves of her body.

I dumped the parachute and dug out my coveralls and drew them on, then put the parachute on over that and checked that everything was secure. Fortunately we hadn't turned them in the night before so we didn't need to go by the equipment room. Buffy was digging around in her gear bag and pulled out a leather flying helmet, we usually didn't bother with them and just flew with our officer's cap. She pulled it on and carefully tucked her hair into it. Realizing what she was planning I dug around in my bag and found mine. As I was putting mine on she walked over to me, "Any loose strands?"

I looked her over closely, and shook my head, "No, don't see anything."

She reached up and I felt her pull on a length of my hair, then she twisted it and slipped it under the helmet and nodded to me, "You look good."

She went back to her bag and started rummaging again, in a moment she had her oxygen mask out and hung it around her neck so it obscured the lower half of her face. I got out mine and followed suit. With our flying goggles low on our foreheads there wasn't much of our faces visible. We stowed the rest of our gear and looked around to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything and then left the office and headed to the flight line.

Once outside I looked around and saw four Lightnings a couple hundred yards down the flight line, we walked down the line and as we approached a couple of ground crewmen got up to meet us. They trailed along behind as we found the planes assigned to us and stowed our bags in the small luggage compartment. I went through my Jeppeson case and got out the charts for the North Atlantic and Scotland and put them in the coverall pocket on the side of my thigh along with my navigation instruments, then put the case in the compartment and secured the door.

I climbed up on the wing and leaned into the cockpit through the open canopy and checked that everything was secure and then got down and pre-flighted the plane. I could see Buffy was doing the same, as I swung myself back up on the wing the ground crewman's curiosity finally overcame him, "Sir?"

Speaking as deeply as I could without going overboard I replied, "I'm the ferry pilot."

"Sir, what happened to Captain Everly?"

"Food poisoning, I hear. Just got the assignment," fortunately I remembered the lead pilot's name from the sheet, "Colonel Miller should be here shortly, I know he wants to get going as soon as possible. We've already wasted too much time with the cluster-fuck this morning."

I looked at the eastern horizon; it was just beginning to lighten as dawn was breaking. I wanted to be in the plane and all settled down before daylight made seeing easier, the harsh light of the floods glaring down from the hanger behind the planes gave sufficient light to work but created glare and deep shadows. The poor lighting and simply the unexpectedness of our presence meant no one had realized we were women, at least not yet, and if we were to get away with this we had to make sure no one did.

I stepped into the cockpit and settled down into the seat and started strapping myself in. The ground crewman was at the side of the cockpit handing me straps and connections, I had myself strapped in and hooked up to the radios and oxygen and started going over the pre-start checklist when he spoke again, "Sir, you've got two external drop tanks, 250 gallons each, and 500 rounds in each of the inboard MGs and 40 rounds of 20mm, we don't do full ammo loads because of the weight. When do you want us to take the safety pins out?"

I covered up the shock of realizing I was going to be flying an armed aircraft and that we were heading for a combat area which made that prudent, I thought quickly, "We'll wait until the Colonel's here."

"Yes, sir."

I continued with my cockpit checks and the ground crewman sat on the wing just forward of the cockpit with his legs hanging over the edge. A couple of minutes later I heard him call softly, "Sir!"

I looked up and saw him pointing down the flight line; two pilots were walking toward us, dressed in flying gear with parachutes hanging from them. As they got closer I could see the silver eagles of a Colonel on the color points of the older man, with a start I recognized the younger officer, he was the 2nd Lieutenant we had talked to earlier that morning.

Both of them came up between the nose and my port engine, the Colonel yelled up, "Lieutenant Thompson?"

"Yes, sir!" He handed a sheet of paper to the ground crew still sitting on my wing who handed it on back to me, I saw it was the flight plan indicating the courses and estimated times for each leg of the flight, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Start engines in five minutes, Lieutenant, you'll be Red 3."

"Yes, sir!"

They walked away, the younger officer heading for one of the other planes and the Colonel heading for Buffy's plane. He was there for a brief moment, repeating what he had told me I guessed and then he was heading for his plane.

I called out to the ground crewman that was still on my wing, "Sergeant, pull the safeties."

"Yes, sir," he turned and yelled down "Dumbrowski!"

Another ground crewman hauled a small platform over beside the nose of my plane and the ground crewman on my wing dropped off and then climbed onto it, he released the latches and opened the large hatch covering the gun compartment, Dumbrowski held it up for him as he reached inside. A moment later he was out and held up three red cloth streamers and I nodded verifying that I had seen him remove the safety pins from the guns. He closed the panel and secured the latches, I leaned out of the cockpit, "Double check those latches, Sergeant."

He turned and grinned at me, then went back over each latch insuring they were secure, "All secure, Lieutenant!"

"Thanks, Sergeant. Let's get this thing started!"

They hopped off the platform and Dumbrowski hauled it away while the Sergeant waved another ground crewman over, he was pushing a large fire extinguisher mounted on wheels and positioned himself outboard of the port engine. The Sergeant moved over next to him and then swung his hand over his head in a circular motion and yelled up, "All clear!"

I checked the port engine magneto was off and hit the starter button, the high-pitched whine of the starter rose and then the engine turned over several times, the propeller jerking around, and then I released the starter. Having verified the engine was clear and gotten some oil moving in it, I turned the magnetos back on and primed the engine and hit the starter a second time. This time when the engine turned over there was a loud 'bang' and a puff of black smoke, followed by more bangs and then it caught and the explosions turned into an ear-shattering roar, the propeller turned into a silver disk. The ground crew moved over to the starboard engine and we repeated the procedure, it was soon roaring along with its mate.

I finished the pre-takeoff checks and the engines were warmed up and in the green, I throttled back until they were idling smoothly. I glanced around and saw Buffy had her engines started and the other two planes were just starting theirs. Suddenly a voice was in my ear, "Red lead to Red flight, radio check!"

"Red two, loud and clear." I heard the young officer's voice.

"Red three, loud and clear." I sent out.

"Red four, loud and clear." I heard Buffy's distinct voice and thought to myself, we're toast now!

Instead I heard the Colonel's voice again, "Halifax Control, Red flight, four P-38s, ready for departure."

"Red flight, Halifax control, you're clear to taxi, first to take-off on runway 34; advise when you're on the apron. Winds light, 5 to 10 mile per hour from the north-west, barometer 28.9"

"Halifax control, Red flight, roger."

I set my altimeter and checked that my brakes were locked and signaled to the ground crew to remove the chocks, two men darted under my wings and were soon back out holding the wheel chocks up so I could see them. I nodded to them and reached up and pulled the canopy closed and locked it down. "Red lead, Red flight, let's roll."

I saw the first two planes moving out onto the taxi way and waited several seconds and then released the brakes and added a touch more throttle and pulled out behind them. I looked to my right and a little behind me and saw Buffy following along, a few minutes later we came to a stop just off the end of runway. "Halifax control, Red flight, on the apron and ready for takeoff."

"Red flight, Halifax control, your cleared, have a nice flight."

"Halifax control, Red flight, we're rolling."

The two lead planes pulled onto the runway and then turned and were racing down the long strip of concrete. I released my brakes and turned on to the runway, I glanced over to Buffy and saw her give me a quick wave and turned my attention ahead of us. I shoved the throttles forward and felt the heavy pressure as the plane accelerated rapidly, the air speed indicator came to life and I felt the controls start to respond. I held her on the runway until we had plenty of speed and then pulled lightly back on the wheel; she rose quickly into the lightening sky. I retracted the landing gear and flaps and cleaned her up and then checked around.

I spotted the other two planes a mile or so in front of us and several thousand feet higher, I kept the throttles wide open and we rapidly closed on them. As we got near the Colonel's voice came over the radio, "Red three, let's keep the formation spread, left finger four, 100 and 200."

I eased in until I was 200 yards off his left side and just slightly behind him, Buffy was another 100 yards to my left and a little behind me while his wingman was 100 yards to his right, the four planes positioned like the fingertips of the left hand. Once everyone was in position he lead us in a gentle bank until we were on course for our first leg, we leveled out at 10,000 feet a couple of minutes later and I trimmed the plane for the long flight.

The flight was long and boring, the steady roar of the engines on either side of me, the chill in the cockpit, and the endless ocean below us and the clear blue sky above us lulling us into a dream state. Suddenly my plane was bouncing and there were heavy thuds of explosions and the bursting black puffs of flak near our planes. I looked down and far below us I could see dozens of ships, several with gray puffs of smoke near them as they shot at us. We turned north to avoid the convoy that had appeared below us, several of the ships still shooting at us even as we pulled out of range. The trigger happy gunners on the ships below sure woke me up.

We settled back on our course but I was keeping a constant eye on the ocean below us, I didn't want another incident like the last, when Buffy's voice broke the radio silence we had maintained since our departure, "Red leader, Red four, bogie, 10 o'clock low."

There was silence for several moments, I looked to the left of our course and down but couldn't see anything, "Red four, Red leader, bogie position?"

"10 o'clock, maybe a little toward 11, halfway between our level and the horizon."

Following her more explicit directions I thought I could see a small black dot, "Red four, are you sure that's a bogie?"

"Yes, sir, I've been following it for a couple of minutes, it's heading the opposite direction we're going." How the hell had Buffy seen it a couple of minutes ago? I could just make it out now.

"Red three, you and four investigate but do not engage, we'll provide high cover."

"Roger," I answered as I turned toward the distant black dot, "Red four, Red three – you take lead, you spotted it."

"Roger, Red three." Buffy answered, then her plane was pulling in front of me and I fell into the wing man's position. She lowered her nose and went into a shallow dive, our speed increasing as the black dot began to resolve itself into another aircraft. Then Buffy's voice cracked over the radio again, "Bandit confirmed, it's a Condor."

I could just make out the other plane now but Buffy's identification looked correct, the dark mottled green form was a Focke-Wolf FW-200, a four engine patrol bomber the German's used to find convoys for their U-boats. "Red four, Red lead, break off!"

"Red lead, what about our friends?"

"What?"

"He's going to spot them before too long!" Buffy was correct, given the course the bomber was on he was going to spot that convoy before too much longer, then he would radio the convoy's position to every U-boat in the area.

There was silence for several seconds, finally the Colonel responded, "Red four, Red lead, be careful, we'll stay as top cover."

I only had time for one thought to streak through my mind, 'Jesus H. Christ, now what had Buffy gotten me into?' Then I was slamming the throttle forward to stay with her, she pulled up slightly to keep us above the Condor, then when we were less than half a mile from it she rolled onto her side and dove for it. We were coming down on the Condor from its rear quarter, diving at an angle of about thirty degrees and closing on it quickly.

We were still five or six hundred yards away when I first noticed the puffs of grey smoke and sparkles coming from the dorsal turret, then tracers were flashing by my canopy. Then Buffy opened fire and I could see hits sparkling along the fuselage of the Condor, she started just aft of the dorsal turret and then walked her fire forward. There was sparkling glitter of shattered glass as her fire marched over the turret and it stopped firing at us, her fire continued forward until it was centered at the wing root, then I saw the heavier flashes as she added 20mm cannon fire to her two machine guns.

At the last second she pulled up and we passed just aft of the Condor's wing, she whipped us around in almost a complete loop before she rolled out and started a second pass on the Condor. Her fire was hitting the fuselage from the opposite side, just above the wing when there was a massive explosion and the Condor disintegrated, my plane was thrown violently upward from the concussion and I had several frantic moments trying to regain control, when I had the plane flying again I looked around for Buffy. I spotted her a couple hundred feet below me, her plane spinning awkwardly and then the nose dropped and she regained control. "Red four, Red three, 500 above and aft"

"Red three, roger," Buffy pulled her plane around and I slowed, waiting for her to form back up with me, while she caught up I looked around and saw the rest of Red flight high above us, circling so we didn't lose them.

As soon as Buffy was back with me I started climbing, "Red lead, Red three, we'll reform on you."

"Red three, roger, nice shooting Red four, I'll sign the confirmation when we get in."

"Roger, Red lead." Buffy's voice was grim as she answered but I could also hear a note of satisfaction in it. We climbed back to our cruise altitude, the Colonel and his wing man were back on course and we slowly drew up to them and then settled back into our loose formation. I glanced over my shoulder at Buffy and gave her a thumbs-up, she waved back at me.

Well, I thought, it had been fun while it lasted. I didn't think we would really spend too much time in the brig, but I knew our careers were over. But maybe with our reputation we could get some kind of flying job with one of the manufacturers, if the Army didn't completely black ball us. Of course the alternative was they would want to cover it up and we'd spend the rest of our lives at some two person observation post on the Arctic Circle that got re-supplied once a year.

I was still musing possible scenarios for the coming debacle when I saw land slowly rising in front of us, as we got closer I realized it was spreading to both sides of us, which wasn't where it was supposed to be. Our planned flight should be taking us north of Ireland with the Scottish mainland to the east, we would cross a series of narrow peninsulas until we reached the area of Glasgow where our destination was, but this appeared to be solid land in front of us. We continued southeast as we crossed over the coast line.

I could see an occasional small village or town but for the most part the land looked wild, there were none of the deep lochs cutting into the land. We hadn't crossed over any large island groups which we should have before we reached the Scottish mainland if we had been on our planned course. I continued scanning the charts, trying to identify something as we crossed the land. Then I saw open water up ahead, I looked at the coastline we were approaching and saw a small town split by a river, the configuration seemed to match something on the chart and I checked it closer, "Red lead, Red three, I think that's Helmsdale we're crossing over."

After a few moments he replied, "Good catch, Red three, I think you're right, if so we should be seeing more land in just a minute."

A couple minutes later another coastline appeared in front of us, I peered at it as we approached it and identified Buckie in front of us and Lossiemouth to port. At least we knew where we were, but we were a long way from Glasgow. I checked my fuel gauges and did a quick mental calculation; it was going to be close.

"Red flight, Red lead, looks like we got blown quite a ways east, figure about another hour."

"Red lead, Red four, I'm going to need something a lot closer than that, figure I've got maybe 15 minutes left and then me and this nice birdie are going down, whether we want to or not."

I started looking at the chart, "Red lead, there's RAF Dyce at Aberdeen, that's a lot closer, it should be within Red fours range."

"Got it, we'll head for there and get some gas."

A couple minutes later we were circling the airfield, there was no response from the tower, we probably didn't have the right frequency although they should have been monitoring the standard frequencies. We flew the standard landing pattern and couldn't spot any other aircraft in the vicinity, the Colonel turned onto the final approach and as he neared the end of the runway two red flares rose up directly in front of him, "Red flight, break off, something must be wrong!"

I pushed in my throttles and started to climb away when Buffy's voice came over the radio, "Sorry Red lead, no can do."

"Red four, I said break off!"

"Can't, sir, I've only got one engine running and I don't know how long that will last."

I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Buffy drifting down toward the runway, her port prop feathered and motionless. I watched, splitting my attention between Red lead and looking back at her, she settled gently on the runway, little puffs of grey smoke coming from her tires as she settled down. I looked at my gas gauges.

7