A time like no other

by Warks1999

It was an ever changing world, but a world that would soon be at War, with consequences that would devastate families forever... their family included. A new adventure, setting the characters back in time to World War II. Enjoy :)

34. Scourge of the Skies

Chapter 34: Scourge of the Skies 13th September 1940

The Mediterranean was supposedly a very hot place. Those who knew the landscape, or at least knew enough about it, would know of the deserts and pyramids that covered it, a hark back to the Ancient times. There were some beautiful sights around the port of Alexandria, the stone buildings that went a few stories high all around them, as well as some of the beautiful smells of food which would entice the rationed sailors and airmen from their base within the port. The one thing that was not passed on in the guides to places like Alexandria, was just how much of a problem the flies were.

Seemingly appearing from every possible direction, during every minute of the day, flies were more of a pest to them than the Germans or the Italians. They couldn't kill, but they could ruin a man's lunch if they started landing on it. The consistent feeling of the flying pest walking across one's skin was an equally horrendous thought too. Back at the base, there were some ways of avoiding them though. Men would lay out traps to catch the flies, the officer's eventually catching onto the methods themselves in order to make their rooms far more comfortable. It did not help in a meeting of officers, if flies suddenly began to fill the mess to irritate the men who were discussing vitally important details for the war effort.

Lieutenant Commander James Maguire and Leading Airman David Donnelly were both battling the flies as they strolled through the streets of the city. The two of them were on leave for a few hours, James suggesting to his best friend that they could spend the time getting to know the city a little better. He wasn't sure what to expect from the people of Alexandria, as to whether they would be accepting or dismissive of them. What they found, was that the people were more than willing to be reasonable if they were going to be. Children would smile at them as they walked past houses, some of them even shouting hello to them. They would always respond to the children too, as it would make their faces light up as much as the children's if they could see that they were making them happy.

The past couple of months leading up to that morning were somewhat eventful once they were settled in back in Scotland. Very little happened other than meetings for James during the couple of weeks where the Skua's and Fulmar's were away, and the men were on leave. David might have been filling in as his temporary adjutant in order to stay, but there was very little for an adjutant to do when all they were doing was waiting. It did allow them to have plenty of time together though. Outside of the meetings, they would spend the majority of the day together in the office that James was allocated. David would sit in the corner and help where he could, mostly in adding details to some of the further reports that were requested about their time in Bermuda. He was also called upon in the hastily arranged trial of Airman Bailey, who was convicted very quickly on the count of attempted rape. He would be facing a lengthy stretch in prison, no longer allowed to have the honour of representing his country in battle. Britain might have needed every man that it could muster, but it did not need him. On the other end of the scale, David was allowed one treat during their time north of Hadrian's Wall. The staff officer's car that stuttered so badly on the first full day of them being there was given to him to fix, James assisting as a reversal of roles took place. The Englishman didn't mind though; it was nice to be the one receiving the orders rather than having to be the one who gave them out.

Once the repaired aircraft returned, so did the men, who all returned with renewed motivation ahead of whatever may lie in wait for them. Only one of the regular men was aware of where they were truly going, David sworn to secrecy by James until they actually reached the Med. They would never be allowed to know the full details, but James would not keep the basics from them forever. Although with a designated stop in Gibraltar along the way, they would have probably guessed before too long anyway, he reasoned ahead of departure. Before they could depart though, they needed to meet up with the rest of their party, as they would be going to the Med with a whole force of ships that were designed to reinforce the existing fleet in the area. The inlet base of Scapa Flow was where they went first, which also meant another staff meeting for James to plan the very final, fine details of their assignment in the Mediterranean. With only one other aircraft carrier in the whole theatre of battle, the outdated HMS Eagle, the Illustrious and its aircrews would be a luxury commodity that would need to be utilised across a variety of roles. Attack, defence and patrols would all be part of the repertoire that they were expected to deliver, utilising every aspect of their months of training and practice. The light skirmishes that they'd faced before were just appetisers. Their trip into the Mediterranean was the true start of the war for them.

On the twenty second day of August, at around quarter to eleven in the morning, Illustrious led a group out of Scapa Flow that were to meet up with a larger convoy. The large force would be carrying supply ships within their ranks too, which meant that the whole way to the Med, there would be no rest at all for the airmen. The Swordfish were ideal for reconnaissance as well as attacking either surface ships or submarines. Their unique ability to be able to adapt to face almost any enemy made them the perfect aircraft for convoy duty, as they could respond to a wide variety of threats from a lone U-boat to a Kriegsmarine surface fleet. The lead ship of the whole convoy was the battleship HMS Valiant, Illustrious serving as the second lead. Most of the action on the voyage down to the Med was aboard the carrier though, as it housed the centre of activity for the defence of the convoy. James himself flew in the majority of patrols, David faithfully accompanying him as spotter, leading from the front as he liked to do. The men all appreciated the hands-on approach, with their nerves starting to affect them more as they realised that wherever they were going, it was the real deal. A calming influence he was though, as they could always rely on their commanding officer as a source of inspiration.

In the end, it was an uneventful trip to Gibraltar. The U-boats stayed away, although Illustrious' radar did pick up a trace of a lone submarine that stalked them one night, but it never got close enough to worry them. It was so far away that the only men that knew about it were the radar operator, Captain Boyd and James. In time, David was made aware of it too, but it was not until they were near Gibraltar that James had the chance to tell him. Once they were up in the air on patrol, the usual banter that flowed between them ceased, as the need to concentrate on what they were doing took over. The U-boats were real menaces when it came to convoys; they couldn't afford to miss spotting one because they were too busy laughing. On the twenty ninth of August, they refuelled and stayed overnight in Gibraltar, though none of the airmen left the ship other than James. Once again it was for a meeting, ones which he grew tired of, despite knowing of how vitally important they were so that orders could be distributed.

They sat sail again the morning after, with a rendezvous planned a few days later with the rest of the Fleet. The convoy was no longer in need of protecting, having reached its destination safely. Instead, they formed into their agreed reinforcement convoy to meet with the fleet. Valiant took the lead as the battleship of the group again, though it was Illustrious that was once more the busier of the two main ships. As soon as they departed Gibraltar, James noticed that there was a very different feel to the carrier. The men's nerves might have been calmed by him on the first leg of the journey, but once they'd entered the true Mediterranean itself, it hit home that danger really could come from out of nowhere. One of the airmen had correctly guessed where they were when they'd stopped in Gibraltar, leaving James no choice but to inform them that they would be serving in the Med. The navy crew were equally apprehensive, though the experienced Captain Boyd spoke words of encouragement to see them through. Patrols were not flown like they were out in the Atlantic, as the last thing that they wanted was for the Italians to pick up on them moving through towards Malta. If they could keep the Illustrious's presence quiet, even if the Italians discovered the rest of the reinforcements, it gave them a tactical advantage. To the Italians' knowledge, the only British carrier in the Med was the Eagle. They needed to be led to believe that it was still the case.

After one close call when James did have to take to the skies, their aircraft being the only one that did so, they arrived off the coast of Malta on the second day of September. The start of September was especially poignant to him, and to David too, as it marked a year since they'd embarked on the journey. It was a year of triumphs and disasters, friendship and loss, though for the Englishman, the most important thing in his mind was that it was a whole year without Erin. An allergic reaction was what he'd told the crewman who found him early that morning, sat down on the landing deck towards the bow of the ship. He was never going to tell the man that since four thirty, he'd sat there with tears falling from his eyes, the photo of them together in his hands. Even with David around, he would still have moments where the longing to be with her again completely overwhelmed him. Admitting it to David would have been sensible even after it was done, but he found himself too embarrassed to do so. His best friend would never judge him for it, not that it made it any less mortifying in James' own mind.

There was no stopping once they met up with the Fleet either. Along with the accompanying destroyer screen, it became a formidable force of multiple capital ships. They were ships that still needed protection however, with the Swordfish crews of the 815 and 819 once again called upon to provide the air cover. The Italians could potentially discover the fleet, but with the vast array of ships in it, they may have easily mistaken Illustrious for Eagle unless they were able to gain a more sustained view of them. Certainly, if they were to encounter an air patrol from the Italian side, the British Commanders hoped that they would believe that the patrols were just from Eagle again, rather than another carrier.

By the early hours of the fourth, the fleet were in a new position, the Swordfish crews ready to launch their first proper raid on the enemy. The Italians turned on the Greeks, capturing their territory along with the islands that lay off the coast. Rhodes was one of those islands, a picturesque paradise that did not belong in the war. However, regardless of the beauty of the place, if the Italians were going to use the airfields on it, then they would have to attack. James and his men trained hard for the night missions, the ones where a man's wits were often his only friend over the dark skies of the Med. For James, he required his wits and David, vice versa for the Irishman. Setting off as the sun began to rise, he led one group from the Illustrious to attack the airfield at Kalathos, whilst Eagle's Swordfish went to attack Maritsa on the other side of the Island. Thanks to reconnaissance conducted before their arrival in the area, James knew that Kalathos was exposed out in the middle of nowhere. It was relatively poorly defended too, with just two Anti-Aircraft guns to take on his squadron. However, approaching a barely lit airfield in the hazy early morning light did cause problems, including the main issue of being unable to site their main targets of the fuel supplies and hangar. Instead, they were able to destroy multiple Italian fighters that were parked up at the edge of the airfield. A job well done, they headed for home without the loss of any of their aircraft, though the Swordfish from Eagle were nowhere near as lucky. As they made their attack, they were engaged by Italian fighters. Four crews never made it back.

Once they were done in Rhodes, the fleet made for Alexandria, docking there that evening and not leaving port since. In the week or so that followed, the crews mostly completed additional training that did not necessitate them leaving the ship or the port itself. Some of the Swordfish that were damaged during the raid on Rhodes were repaired in that time too, although the damage was only material rather than anything more lasting. Plenty of men used the time to prepare letters to write home as well. A ship would be departing back for Britain at some point that month, which would take any mail from the serving men home to their loved ones, though it would all have to be checked first. Censorship was rather vital when it came to their ship too, as if the Italians found anything out about the Illustrious, then it would have been a disaster. For James and David though, the time to write home did not come. Being kept busy by those in higher office than he was, James required David's help in order to sort through all of the paperwork he was having to produce. There was not a single bit of hesitation on the Irishman's part to help him, knowing that his friend was being bombarded by bureaucracy rather than the enemy.

A few hours of leave granted was akin to finding the holy grail. Ambling through the streets of Alexandria, neither man needed to tell the other how much of a relief it was to finally get out from the port, even if it was just for a few hours. The flies were an unfortunate pest, but they could not detract either man from feeling that they could finally relax after a few frantic weeks since setting sail.

"Well, I never thought I'd ever come to somewhere so feckin' hot…". David raised a typical complaint about the heat. "… even after Bermuda".

At the time, back on the island in the Atlantic, James had warned him that the Med would be even more intense when it came to the heat. David laughed it off at the time, but he wasn't laughing once he was caught in the terribly humid conditions that they found themselves in. It was immoral, in David's head, to expect men to serve in such heat. Their shirts would stick to their backs most days, which was incredibly unpleasant, not to mention how it would attract the airborne menaces that were the flies.

"It would not be right if you did not moan about the heat". James stated, chuckling under his breath.

"Are ye mocking me?" The offended David enquired.

"Not at all". James turned, grinning at him. "If I were mocking you then I would have smiled far more smugly than this".

Shaking his head, David was well aware that he was caught in a trap by his best friend. If James could smile any more smugly then David would have been taking him to the surgeon onboard the ship, to try to work out how to put his jaw back together. Normally, he was limited in his attempts to comeback in the small battles of mockery that the two would engage in from time to time.

"I suppose it could be far worse".

"Really? How so?"

Unbeknownst to James, David found the one comeback where he knew it would lead to his friend losing control of their conversation. There was one subject above almost any other that would really rile his best friend up. An angry James was not the most pleasant to be around, but it would be more of a typically frustrated James that he would be looking at bringing out.

"I could have to be sweating my feckin' arse off, helping ye with paperwork AND have Erin reading poetry to us. Christ, I can deal with the first two, but I'd honestly walk out into that feckin' desert if I had to listen to it…".

He realised that James had stopped walking at some point during his latest slating of Erin's literary work. Pausing his own monologuing of how shite it was, David looked back to find the bizarre sight of his commanding officer with his hands on his hips, sighing. Holding up a finger to beckon the Irishman back to him, David lost his confidence a little from the expression he could see across James' face. He never meant it in offence to Erin, but she just wasn't very good at poetry despite her many attempts at it. Her dedication to her work could never be questioned. The quality of it could though and one of the only ways to truly annoy James was to mention what he thought of it. He wasn't bargaining for just how annoyed the Englishman looked though…

"Again, with the poetry?" His brows furrowed, James huffed out the question.

"Come on James, everyone knows that it is absolute shite, just admit it!" David almost laughed out of incredulity. "I'm not trying to offend Erin or you, but ye need to stop lyin' to yerself and everyone else about likin' it because she'll never stop otherwise".

David might not have been appreciative of his partner's works, but James would defend Erin's writing to the death if it was required. He sincerely enjoyed her work whilst at the same time failing to understand why the rest of the family hated it. If anyone else criticised it so often, then they would have been faced with his less gentlemanly side, David only escaping it due to their friendship being what it was. As far as James was concerned, an attack on Erin's poetry was on attack on her and it was his job to prevent threats like that from reaching her.

"Look David, I don't mind you not enjoying it as much as I do, but you can't force me to stop her from doing it. If it keeps Erin happy, then she should do it as far as I am concerned".

"It doesn't keep the rest of us happy". David snorted, but in a joking manner.

"Whether my wif-".

James stopped himself just before he could properly finish the word off. They might have only been four little letters, but the two of them were not that at all. Thanks to the war, they were barely even partners anymore. Assuming that she would accept the offer that would come her way upon them next meeting, was wrong. The red swelling of his cheeks confirmed that a second later, with David staring at him with a smile slapped across his face.

"Not yet, mate…". He slapped James on the shoulder. "Not yet…".

Smarting, James took a moment to cool down, as much as one could in a place such as Alexandria. He was not a man that devoted himself to a belief in a higher being such as God. The following seconds after he tried to cool down decided to challenge that lack of faith. Looking around, he caught sight of a woman in a white dress. It was not quite a wedding dress, but the way it billowed in her wake made it seem that way. He would not allow himself to be convinced that the Almighty was punishing him for not asking the question to Erin sooner, but he would still find the thought running through his mind. David glanced across to what caught his friend's eye too, noticing the woman in the white dress and knowing exactly where James' mind would be taking him. As it usually was when James was in need of being pushed back on the right path, it would be up to him to give him the nudge.

"Come on James, let's keep going".

"Y-Yes".

The Englishman began walking alongside his friend, ridding his negative thoughts of the life he should have been living, the further they delved into Alexandria. The streets were narrow, the lives of the people living in the houses adorning them, often spilling out onto the roadside. Men and women would shout from the naturally carved windows above them, spouting all sorts of language that they did not understand. Neither man could speak or understand Arabic, which was not the greatest help when it came to watching over their own safety. The discovery that the people were mostly friendly did help alleviate the issue, although they could not risk becoming complacent should the threat suddenly exist.

After another series of twists and turns, James found himself leading them again upon the full return of his composure. In the process of working their way through the streets, their roles in fact reversed, as the suffering made its way over to David's side. They were approaching the middle of the day when the sun was at its hottest and the Irishman's body was getting to know about it. Although he was used to being up and around at the Port during that time of the day, he'd yet to complete any strenuous physical exercise at the time. That changed as they meandered through the sights of Alexandria, his sweat covered shirt attracting the attentions of flies and giggles from some of the soldiers that were stationed around the city. James did not tell him, but he'd caught one solider they passed whispering 'Irishman' to his friend who he stood on guard with. Needless to say, David stuck out like the sorest of thumbs.

Finding themselves in a back street would normally be a terrible plan. A secluded street in a major city that was packed in tightly with plenty of hustle and bustle, would be the perfect hive for criminal activity. Two apparently clueless British servicemen wondering down it would be prime targets to be robbed or killed by those who did not appreciate the sentiments of the local legal system. However, the street was almost deserted, James believing it more than safe for them to be able to cut through to reach what was beyond it. Through his clammy, sweat-covered eyes, David did spot something up ahead, which he announced to his best friend and commanding officer a second later.

"Look James!"

David's shouting, combined with his point down the narrow street brought a frown to James' face as he tried to work out why his friend was excited.

"It's Erin and Orla!"

One thing that James did not know so well was medicine. In the family, that was left to Aunt Deirdre. However, he did know what a man suffering in the heat looked like, and on a boiling September morning in Alexandria, it resembled David Donnelly. The Leading Airman was not wrong in pointing out that two women were stood further down the street in front of them… it was just his identification of them that was wrong. It would be almost impossible for their loved ones to be in Alexandria without a war taking place, let alone with one going on. As much as having them there would be a dream come true, it was not one that the Lieutenant Commander would believe was real.

"David, unless your wife and my… partner." He spoke softly, correcting himself in regards to Erin. "… have become rather well tanned and dyed their hair, I think you may be experiencing a mirage".

Mirages were not something that David could honestly say he knew about too well. Squinting, he looked again, to find that James was completely correct in his assumption. Seeing the women up ahead, his overworked body must have short-circuited his brain for a moment… he could have sworn he'd seen the two of them up ahead, waving to their fellas to run over to them. When he did look at the women again, it was very clear what they were doing down that street, far clearer than what the two servicemen were. The low cuts of their dresses, as well as the large amounts of makeup on their faces advertised to any passer-by that they were conducting the oldest business of them all. James worked that out before he did, having omitted his belief that the women were prostitutes to David to allow his best friend to come to the same conclusion. Continuing to walk towards the women, it was also clear that they would have to speak to them to be able to get by them.

"Hello sirs…". The first woman purred, knowing that they were with the British forces by their uniforms. "You want?"

The second twitched her eyebrows to indicate her own offer to them, her hands moving towards James' chest at an alarming rate. The first woman's own hands were moving towards David too. For a weaker man, the offer of one good time that would be quickly forgotten by both parties would be far too tempting. Especially when, for James at least, it had been so long since he'd been able to lie with a woman. Egyptian women of the night may have been good at tempting those men, but James was not such a man. He was a gentleman of more morals than most, and though the church or the rest of the world might not have recognised it, he was already betrothed to someone else. Just like he'd done with Olivia, he was going to have to let the woman down.

"Madam, you are a lady of great beauty…". He told her, taking her hand to place a kiss to her knuckles. "… but I already have a lady of my own that I love. I must decline your offer".

For a woman who spoke little English, and understood little more, to her credit she knew exactly what he was telling her. It was a more gentlemanly rejection than she was used to, the bruises beneath her make up covered skin a testament to that. Her friend did not know if that applied to her too, so she looked into David's eyes to see what he would say to the request. James could have spoken up to tell her, knowing what the answer would be, but he was far too intrigued in how David would deal with it.

"Aye, what he said".

Ignoring the urge to snort in the most ungentlemanly way possible, James found David's revolutionary tactic of backing himself out of a sexual encounter with an Alexandrian prostitute to be highly amusing. There were so many different ways that David could have excused himself, yet absolutely frozen to the spot by the enticing woman, he could only hope that she understood James' sentiments like her friend. That she did, and the two women strolled back to the side of the street where they'd came from, leaving the two men to continue through to the next street.

"Christ, that was…". A shaken David spoke up as they walked off.

"Hilarious?"

James' raised eyebrow, complete with a quivering lip, told his best friend just how much he thought his squirming was worth in a comedic sense. He was teasing David, which the Irishman knew too well. James was so bloody good at it too.

"This is revenge isn't it?" David voiced the thought that came to him aloud. "This is revenge for me and Barnesy leavin' ye to fight off those women in Bermuda, isn't it?"

The thought never crossed the Englishman's mind at all.

Never…

"Absolutely not!" James cried out theatrically. "Honestly David, what sort of man do you think that I am? I would never dream of committing such a petty revenge".

An appropriate choice of words could not be found for the Irishman, so he opted instead to shake his head for what must have been the twentieth time that morning. His one blip aside, James was in a frustratingly chipper mood during their few hours of leave in the city, which would guarantee his defeat in most of their witty battles. Still, the pair of them were having fun doing so. They would always have their free-flowing conversations for as long as the two could still draw breath, that was for certain.

At the other end of the back street lay a large open area that was filled with people. The closer they got to it, the more that the noise of singing drowned out the everyday chatter of the people of Alexandria. Once they'd made their way through the crowds on the outskirts of the area, the two men were greeted with the sight of a stage in the distance, where a performer was singing his heart out to the watching audience. There were a mix of people within it, but they were mostly British officers who were out on leave like they were. The enlisted men were hardly going to be entertained by an open-air opera when there were the likes of the women they'd just encountered, dotted around the city.

"Now isn't that something". A mesmerised James muttered as they stared out over the scene.

A round of applause coincided with his statement, as the performer that was on stage finished. David was looking upon the almost-amphitheatre with wide eyes too, taking in a spectacle that he'd never seen the likes of before. He enjoyed music, wishing that there would be more of it to choose from in a way. With an exciting new opportunity such as the one that lay before him, he found himself turning into a giddy child, genuinely having to stop himself from tugging on James' sleeve to ask him if they could sit and watch. It wouldn't have been needed as James was going to go and sit down to watch it anyway.

Finding themselves somewhere to sit to watch the next performance, James gave an attendant a generous tip. There was no entrance fee as such, everyone from officers to peasants welcome to sit down and listen to the singing or watch the dancing. Attendants did go around the crowd to ask for tips though, targeting the British officers especially as they would have the money to be able to make them. David reached into his pocket to tip some of his meagre wages too, but James stopped him, quickly telling him that he'd put in enough to cover them both. The look on the bewildered attendant's face told David that James must have contributed more generously than most of the officers, the look of gratitude written large across it.

The next performer that made their way onto the stage was a woman, who they assumed was going to sing. When she turned around to face the crowd fully, they were both struck by her beauty. She was a young woman of around their age, if they were to place their best guesses, her hair dark like the two women of the back street they'd walked down. Unlike those two women though, her skin did not show the wear of a lifetime of working on her back. It was more like the finest porcelain that would adorn the grandest of China sets within the homes of the British nobility. There was dark paint around her eyes, that gave away a mystical nature to her otherwise stunning facial features. She wore nothing more than a what they would describe a furry bra, which covered her along with matching shorts, that were very… short… as well as being furry. Both garments were covered in sequins too, which glistened when the rays of sun bounced off of them.

"She is a very attractive lady…". James noted quietly.

"Christ aye". David mumbled a response. "Nothin' on ours though".

"Nowhere near".

Nothing more needed to be said when it came to the beautiful woman who was up on stage. They could still think though, thoughts of which turned to her amazing voice when she began to sing in perfect harmony. David couldn't put a name on what she was singing, and neither could James, but they assumed it must have been something local. Her aesthetic glamour became an afterthought once they were lost in her voice. It was a voice that could have sang the most temperamental of babies to sleep in an instant, soothing to not only the ears but to the very soul. Those who did know the meaning of the words that fell from her mouth, the local men, women and children who were stood watching, appeared to be just as pleased by her voice as they were. To James, who watched those people out of the corner of his eye, it was validation that the woman was a tremendous young singer.

At the end of the performance, everyone around rose to their feet in rapturous applause as the young woman bowed to accept the congratulations. She was visibly shocked by the incredible response that her melodic singing generated, the two men able to see the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. At least they were ones of joy rather than of pain, the men in service to Britain knowing all too well what the tears of pain were like. Some a lot more than others. Most of the rest of the crowd began to disperse from where they'd been seated, with the beautiful woman's performance being the final one for the day. The two airmen arrived far too late to enjoy the full show but were more than contented by what they'd seen and heard.

"Well if that wasn't a mornin' well spent then I don't know what is…". A still awestruck David uttered slowly.

"I can honestly say that I have never heard a voice so majestic…". James commented with a laugh. "… apart from when my Erin reads out her poetry of course".

Having already spent enough time arguing over whether Erin's poetry constituted brilliance or sound that even a condemned man should be spared from, David chose to groan at his comment instead. James would never back down when it came to the woman that he loved, which his friend understood to some extent, but not when it came to the poetry. If it was his Orla that was spouting such utter shite that she tried to convince everyone else was a masterpiece, he'd have politely told her that it was no longer worth her time and effort. It was, in his mind and probably the rest of the family's, the greatest miracle that James had ever come up with. The ability to find Erin's work anything more than utter rubbish.

"At least yer ears are popping from the sound of music not the sound of the latest Erin Quinn world-beating masterclass that even the Nazi's would surrender to so they didn't have to hear it".

The problem was that David was not completely willing to admit defeat either, though their second discussion of the day around Erin's poetry was far more civil than the first. Conveniently, an opportunity to change the whole topic appeared anyway, one which David seized upon the second it came into his eyeline.

"Aye, that woman, ye serious about her havin' a cracker voice?"

"Yes?" James answered, his brows furrowing. "David, I don't like it when you do this…".

David shared few traits with Michelle, but one which he did share was the familiar glint of mischief that would spark up in his eyes. Like the young Mallon, he would deploy it at the moments where he was in control, ready to embarrass the intended victim. In this case it was James. Armed with the knowledge that his friend thought that the Egyptian woman's voice was beautiful, he'd also noted how during her performance, she'd looked over towards them a few times. Near enough every single woman that they'd came across in James' presence seemed to form an attraction to him immediately, which was always something that he could play on.

Swallowing hard, James prepared for yet another conversation where he would have to let a young woman down gently. Erin would probably kill him for even having the conversation with them, but he would be the gentleman with even those that he did not hold in the same regard as her. It was not in his nature to act so callously to a woman. For once though, fate decided to intervene on the side of the Lieutenant Commander, rather than act as a hinderance to him.

The woman did approach them.

But not for James.

No, her eyes were only for David.

The smirk was wiped cleanly of off the married man's face when she ignored the Englishman in order to stand in front of him instead. This time, there was no prior comment from James that he could use in order to talk himself out of the situation. Not that there was one yet, but with the determined look in the young woman's eyes, the Englishman could tell what she wanted from his seat to the side. It certainly wasn't lunch…

She didn't even have to say anything, David was that far into a world of confusion that he offered no resistance whatsoever. Gently, the slight woman pulled him up from his seat, the Irishman simply gazing off into the distance, trying to think of something to say. Anything would do, but the words simply would not fall from his lips. A good friend would have stopped it from happening, would have told the woman in no uncertain terms that his stuck for words friend was a married man who was not available to her. James, however, was a brilliant friend. A brilliant friend would allow him to walk into the trap with the knowledge that no harm would come of it, with the added bonus of being able to watch his friend squirm for a bit longer.

Their mystery woman began to lead David away, to wherever her accommodation was, James presumed. It was after a few steps that the Irishman looked back to his best friend, who was sat with his arms folded, feeling very happy with himself.

"James…". He practically whispered his friend's name.

He was not going to help. David needed to learn the gentleman's way out of the mess he'd found himself in and the only way to do it was through practice. Lots of practice.

"David". James shouted out to him.

Both his friend and the Egyptian woman stopped, turning to see what he had to say for himself.

"This is revenge for Bermuda".

David's face dropped, the woman giggling in his ear without understanding a word of what James said. A similar silent look to the one James gave him back on the island in the Atlantic was issued by the Leading Airman the second time around. It asked his best friend to come to his aid, but much like in Bermuda, it went unanswered. James knew that nothing untoward would occur because David would never be unfaithful to Orla. He loved her too much.

He'd tail from a distance, of course, but he knew that within five minutes, the two friends would be walking back through the streets of Alexandria with a spring in their step.

And flies crawling across their skin.

Bloody flies…

---

Charlene Kavanagh wasn't Erin's best friend.

Michelle, Clare and Orla all vied for that spot, though the final one of the three's family ties ensured that they would be close anyway. The group, as a four, held a powerful friendship for years. For as long as Erin could remember, they were always playing together and looking out for each other in the wide world. They'd came across many challenges throughout that time from Michelle's unshakable conquest for fellas to Clare's stupendous cack attacks. They were even facing a war together, despite Orla being present so little, which was quite the step up from their usual adventures.

However, Charlene did have one thing none of them could boast.

A mansion.

A mansion which Erin found herself invited to.

It wasn't the perfect day for their weekly meetup, which was still conducted without any of the family knowing about it. She could not tell them about her true highlight of the week, though she did wonder whether her Mammy ever noticed the change in mood when she would return. On that Saturday morning though, the weather was quite poor with the rain swirling in a similar fashion to how it had on the morning that Sarah disappeared for a while. The fallout from that day rumbled on for weeks afterwards, though oddly not when it came to Sarah. They would all keep an eye on her though, making sure that she did not lapse into the depressed state that saw her feel the need to flee. In fact, it was with Michelle and Clare that the trouble continued.

When Erin, Orla, Sarah and Napoleon eventually found the two again that day, thanks to the dog's sensitive nose, the state they were in was atrocious. Covered head to toe with dirt, they were quite the sight. Michelle didn't seem to have a problem with it at first, confidently answering that they'd both slipped down a bank and fell. They were just clumsy according to her. In contrast, Clare did not want to talk about what happened at all. Quite why she was so embarrassed by a simple act of being a little clumsy baffled the others. The key detail omitted was the placing of her hands. For Michelle it was quickly forgotten, but for Clare it couldn't be. Coming so close to having to reveal the life that she wanted to live, but would ultimately be silenced for, the positioning of her hands mortified her. She did not have feelings for Michelle in the slightest, but she was only human and to be able to feel another woman in the way she had, set a fire off within her. She couldn't help it at all yet was once again having to bury the truth behind the ramparts that held it in stasis.

That was until it came up again in conversation, when Michelle revealed herself to be far more offended by it than she'd previously let on. The topic came out of the blue as they were sat outside the factory eating lunch one day, a tangent being set upon having been speaking about Sarah just beforehand. Michelle's gripe with Clare came from how she never actually uttered an apology for touching her baps. A red-faced Clare broke out into a sweat-induced cack attack at those words, Erin trying and failing to calm either of them down. Michelle simply wouldn't let it go until she got her full apology. The diminutive blonde gave her plenty of garbled ones as she panicked, finding none of them to meet her friend's standards. A full, sincere apology was what Michelle was after. She wouldn't get one though, as Clare decided to change her tactics and instead blame her for making her scared that morning with the talk of being shot by the Germans. Only in the week or so leading up to the trip to the mansion, Erin noticed the improvement in relations for the two. It put quite the dampener on the summer.

The pair of them were not the only dampener on the summer. The Luftwaffe and the RAF were battling daily, with the large numbers of the former proving to be a problem for the later. Despite the careful planning of the men in charge of the squadrons defending the mainland, the attrition rate was damning. More aircraft were required but they could only be built so quickly by the already overworked men and women in the factories. There was only so much more damage that they could take whereas it appeared that the Germans could keep coming, wave after wave. The reality was distorted though, as it was in fact the Germans who were in trouble. Their fighter academies could not replace the pilots killed on the frontline with more, whereas the RAF could. It was beginning to come to a head as the further the battles raged, the more aggressive the Luftwaffe became. Derry was untouched by the fighting though, the citizens only finding out details of the fighting if they listened to the radio in the evening.

Erin knew that James was not amongst the brave young men that were defending the skies over the south of England. Thanks to Charlene's information, she knew that he was out somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea. She did not know exactly where he was or what he was doing, but Charlene had told her that her Da believed he would probably be flying patrols to help escort convoys of food and supplies to the overseas territories such as Malta. There was also the Suez Canal to look after too, which would require protection from the likes of the Swordfish pilots should the Italians decide to attempt to seize it. She marvelled from simply hearing that he was doing her proud, making a difference to their lives even if he was thousands of miles away.

With the rain pouring down, Mary questioned her decision to go out, but Erin's insistence became too much for her to continue the interrogation. Mary often found herself having to remember that her daughter was a grown up, responsible for her own decisions. Venturing out whilst it was lashing it down might not have been a particularly good one, a ridiculous one in most circumstances. Back off she did though, and it left Erin to dash through the rain sodden countryside lanes as quickly as she could. She'd been lucky to catch Charlene the day before when she was walking home from work alone, her friend coincidentally being out in the rains too. Each afternoon that week it hammered down at one point or another, with Charlene making the suggestion that it would be better to meet at her family's mansion on the Saturday for their regular meeting. With knees that were displaying a weakness not seen since James left for England, she'd been buzzing all night. Unfortunately, the weather meant she could not risk her best dress to arrive at the manor in, but she still selected a very flattering one in her opinion. A garment that was hidden under the jacket that she'd smartly worn, unlike the morning of Sarah's disappearance.

Strolling up the driveway of the mansion, which was partially shrouded in the mist, she thought of what being a girl like Charlene was like. Although they rarely found themselves wanting or without the money for a decent life, life in the Quinn house was nothing like the plush life that Charlene enjoyed. Whether she'd be the same person with significant wealth behind her, she did not know, but she did at least have an example of someone who'd bridged the gap between money and modesty. James was not a young man short of cash, yet he was the perfect gentleman to any man or woman, regardless of their economic status. Charlene wasn't outwardly snobbish or lacking in modesty either. However, like so many in Erin's eyes, she was not James. James would always be the number one in her eyes.

The closer she got to the mansion, Erin began to make out the silhouette of a man stood in the main archway at the front of the white stone building. There was a fountain on either side of the driveway, eloquent features that were gushing with water thanks in part to the rain. Once she reached the steps to the grand house, it became apparent that the man waiting just out of the reach of the rain was their butler. Erin Quinn being serviced by a butler… she couldn't write it. Although it did make for the basis of a good poem, she quickly thought, making a mental note to add it to her next poetic masterpiece.

"Miss Quinn, I presume?"

An Englishman, he held himself in the stature of what she could imagine a butler would look like. There was a distinct sneer to his voice, a condescending tone which she expected from a man who'd been around wealth all of his life, despite not being from it. He must have been around sixty years old, sporting greying hair that was swept to the side stylishly. The suit he wore was perfectly done up, with a not a single button undone or placed through the wrong slot. It was clear that he knew what was expected of him and equally knew that she would not know what was expected of her in such a place.

"Aye". She replied, smiling in a ridiculous attempt to pacify him.

"May I take your coat?"

Slipping her coat off, Erin folded it up before she handed it over in order to attempt to impress the man. Getting it into her head that he would be surprised by her skill, the thought was quickly expunged when he glared back at her. Receiving the coat into his hands, he made sure that he showed her the proper way of folding up a jacket, which prompted a small huff to escape her lips as he stared at her.

"Thank you, Jefferies".

Charlene appeared from inside, filling the space in the corridor behind him. Erin beamed her a smile at the intervention, which was desperately needed to stop Erin from saying something that she shouldn't. Taking an instant dislike to the butler, she returned the glare before he walked off, making sure he knew exactly what she thought of him. Having never felt so offended in her life, it took every ounce of control that she had to not call him a dick as he walked off, something which Michelle would surely have done if she we there. Michelle wasn't a friend of Charlene Kavanagh's though, so she would never get to be there. Not that Erin was…

"Mornin' Charlene".

"Mornin' Erin". She smiled, grimacing internally about having to put on her usual Saturday show. "Yer lookin' a bit wet there".

Although the jacket absorbed the majority of the rainfall, it did not protect her hair which went all frizzy as it became wetter. If James were there, he would have remembered the look from the day the prior July when they'd finally spilt their feelings to each other and consummated their relationship. The only difference being that Erin didn't have to jump off any trains to make it to the Kavanagh mansion. Charlene was a good friend, but not that good. The jumping off trains performances were reserved for James and James only.

"I am just a bit…". She replied as she walked into the building. "… still at least it's nice and warm in here so I can dry out, like".

Nodding her agreement, Charlene moved through to allow Erin a proper look at the inside of the mansion. The young Quinn was flabbergasted by its size, previously having only been able to imagine what the large house could look like within. The main hallway to the stairs must have been over half of the size of the Quinn house, even putting her and James' cottage to shame. Paintings were up on every wall, presumably belonging to former owners or perhaps ancestors of the Kavanagh family. There was silver in seemingly every part of the hallway, with more to be found from the rooms that went off to either side. She would not get to see most of the rooms though, as there would be no grand tour of the building, a disappointment as she was secretly looking forward to winding her way through the corridors to discover the many bedrooms and reception rooms that must have been around.

Charlene showed her into the first room on the right, which she correctly guessed to be the main living room of the building. A gigantic fireplace, which must have been the width of her entire bedroom and probably half the depth too, stood out in the middle of the room. There were bookshelves around it that were several shelves high, vast amounts of reading material that she could only dream of. One day, she thought, it could be her works that sat on the shelves of the Kavanagh mansion. There were multiple sofa's that were arranged around the fireplace, each with side tables to flank them.

The two of them took their places on the sofa in the middle, which had a table in front of it where a platter of tea and biscuits sat. Jefferies returned from storing Erin's dripping wet jacket, the two of them exchanging piercing glances that did not go unnoticed by Charlene. She should have probably reminded Jefferies of his place, but Erin Quinn was a young woman in need of being taken down a notch, so she refrained from doing so. He poured them both cups of tea, sending further daggers Erin's way when she went to offer to pour the tea. Nobody else other than Jefferies poured the tea at the Kavanagh mansion; a usurper to his throne was a most unwelcome sight.

For a couple of minutes, they did nothing other than sip at their tea with the backdrop of rain smashing onto the windows. The biscuits were very tempting to Erin, with a variety that she'd never seen before on offer. However, she did not want to appear greedy by taking one. Charlene was already showing an incredible amount of gratitude by allowing her to even be present at the mansion. Risking the thought of being ungracious by tucking into a biscuit did not appeal to her at all. To take her focus away from the biscuits, she pondered where Charlene's mother and father were. Although she did not expect to be introduced to them at any point, the mansion appeared to be very quiet, as if they were not in at all. Glancing to the biscuits again during the ongoing battle, she tried to think of a reason why they would be out on a Saturday morning. The old Colonel did still have friends in the city, that Erin did know, so she assumed that husband and wife must have been out catching up with those friends.

"Erin, ye can have a biscuit if ye want".

Noticing her fellow blonde's occasional looks at the plate of biscuits, Charlene was getting fed up with her being indecisive over whether she actually wanted one. It wasn't as if they would be short if she were to have one. After all, they weren't there for display, they were there to be eaten. The effects of rationing were not so keenly felt at the Kavanagh mansion and although they'd made some cutbacks, they still maintained the majority of their well-stocked cupboards.

"Thank ye". Erin said slightly nervously.

She picked a biscuit that appeared to be chocolate flavour but when she bit into it, her taste buds were attacked by a caramel taste that she'd never experienced before. Whatever it was, it was absolutely cracker, her smile to Charlene in the proceeding seconds a confirmation of just how brilliant the sensation of the new taste was. Talk of biscuits would have to be put to one side however, as Erin wanted to know what her fella was up to in the Med. That was the other reason she hoped that Charlene's father was present, wishing to thank him for being able to do whatever he was doing in order to get the information. The truth being far from that prevented him being in her presence…

"So, do ye know anythin' more?"

The hopeful question was delivered to Charlene, who put on her best acting skills once more in order to grin for Erin. The instructions she'd been given by Emerald Two after their own weekly meet were at least uplifting. Part of her dreaded having to be the one to break any less than pleasing news to Erin, though if it were that bad it would not be down to her. Then again, she'd overseen the death of Jenny Joyce without ever questioning it, so it would be another bridge to cross if the time came.

"Aye, I do…". Charlene started. "… he's been quite active since he got to the Med, so he has. Daddy told me that his men attacked some airfield in Greece and did a grand job".

"That sounds like my handsome fella".

Overjoyed that he was finding success yet again, Erin's pride for her English fella only increased. All he ever seemed to do was better, never faltering in his duty to the Kingdom or to her. She was surprised not to read about him in the newspapers, as they would often describe the heroics of young pilots, albeit those fighting in the skies over Kent not Rhodes. If he were any other young man then he'd be a hero that the whole country would know the name of, but unfortunately, he was James Maguire. Any reports of a heroic Swordfish pilot leading his men to glory were buried before they could get anywhere near the papers. If a war reporter wished to head into that theatre of war, then they would not be allowed anywhere near James. His name could not make the papers; he was far too valuable.

Having paused to allow Erin a second to bask in her glee, Charlene continued.

"But other than that, he has mostly been at port in Egypt".

"I wonder if he's been to look at the Pyramids…". Erin mused. "… he might have found a pharaoh on his travels!".

Charlene could have slapped her for her ignorance. There was a war on, the time for sightseeing was non-existent. The pyramids were far away from where James was stationed anyway, other members of the British Military looking after Giza where they stood. Although they would have been a majestic sight for anyone to behold, they were not one for him.

"No, he's far from the Pyramids I'm afraid…". She told Erin with a chuckle. "… but I'm sure Alexandria's looking after him well".

Alexandria.

Who the feck is Alexandria?

The sudden knowledge of this Alexandria sent Erin into a rage. Quite who she was, Erin did not know, but if she was looking after her James then she wanted to know exactly why. There was only one woman in James' life who looked after him and that was her. Enraged by the prospect of Alexandria muscling in on her fella, her fury was channelled at Charlene, who was the unfortunate victim being the closest to her. She clearly knew who this Alexandria was and was making no attempts at trying to stop her from stealing James away from her. The mere thought of another woman thinking it would be right to look at him in any way other than out of necessity, incensed her.

"She better not be!" Erin shouted. "Who is she? What's she doin' gettin' her greasy Egyptian paws all over my husb-".

In her anger, Erin crossed a line which should not have been crossed before she just managed to stop herself from uttering the full word. They weren't married yet, even if the dreams that would assault her at night showed them in the cottage, rings placed firmly on their fingers. A dream it would have to remain though, as he was in Egypt being courted by some fancy woman who didn't realise he was already committed to someone else. She wasn't angry with him at all, as she knew her Englishman would fight the stranger's advances like he'd fought Jenny's. The audacity on the woman shocked the young Quinn though, something that she was still keen to get across to the frowning Charlene, who was yet to say anything in response.

"Ye can tell yer Da that whoever he gets this information from, needs to tell this Alexandria that she needs to back off or she'll have me to deal with, so she will!"

"Erin…". The other young woman tried to cut in.

"No! I will not stand for it! James is not an object for her to just… look at a-and size up! He is a man who is loved!"

"ERIN!"

Resorting to shouting, Charlene was regretting ever mentioning the city where the Illustrious was docked. Knowledge of how little respect Erin had for herself was one thing but experiencing the possessive jealousy of the young woman was another. As much as she did not like Erin, she respected the evident love that she shared with James and did not wish them any ills. However, upon being presented with just how defensive she could become around him, she began to feel for James if this was how their relationship was. If the hint of a woman showing him any affection could do that to Erin, then woe betide any woman who went any further.

"Alexandria is the port city where James's ship is docked". She told Erin firmly to ensure she was not misunderstood. "Not a woman who wants to have her way with him".

There were women in Alexandria who would have their way with him if they could, but there was no Alexandria as such. Instantly, Erin's cheeks became tinged with a fiery red outlook as the need to either cry or burst bubbled up inside her. One thing was for certain; she wasn't going to be sticking around at the Kavanagh mansion. Putting on an embarrassing show worthy of the poorest street performer, she rose to her feet immediately.

"I… I should be goin'…".

"Er-".

With a rapid response, it was still not enough for Charlene to stop her. She was out of the living room before her friend could even lift herself off of the sofa, finding Jefferies stood in the hall with her coat in his hands, waiting. Quite how he knew she would be leaving at that exact moment, she did not know, and stopping to work it out was not on the agenda at all. Charlene attempted to shout out to her again, finding it an effort in vain and also finding Jefferies' hand stopping her from exiting the building. He would not let his young charge get soaked through too.

Tears streamed down Erin's face as she ran down the driveway of the mansion. She'd worked herself up into a state to reveal a side to her that she tried to ignore, always knowing that it was there in her conscience. She loved James so much, so much so that she wanted them to be married, but she also loved him too much. Confronted by what was a throwaway comment about a port city that just happened to share the name of a woman, she'd shown the destructive side to herself, that would cocoon James so that nobody else could have him. She'd already seen the glimpses, such as throwing Jenny to the floor after Orla's wedding, but the stark reality hit her far harder than it ought to have in the mansion.

As she exited the Kavanagh's land, without knowing, she was being watched.

Her parents might not have had their suspicions aroused by the constant trips out on a Saturday, but Michelle had. Without informing Clare, as she would have blown their cover, the dark-haired girl made sure she wasn't up late that Saturday morning, tailing Erin all the way to wherever she was going. When it became clear exactly where, anger grew inside her too.

"Well, well well…". She said to herself.

"Ye've got some explaining to do Quinn…".

---

A quiet hush lingered around the sandy streets of Benghazi. In the day, the city would be busy from local trade to the Italian soldiers that patrolled the streets, having been the owners for nearly thirty years. They'd made great improvements to the place, including a new road along the seafront, but it still retained its Mediterranean look despite the improvements. At night though, it was almost deserted. The only men out on the streets were the Italian soldiers in the city itself, or some of the sailors around the port. There were no airfields close by, with a lack of suitability when it came to the terrain unless specialist engineers were available. For the Italians, it was an important port for supplies to be sent to its troops, many of whom further up the line were invading Egypt in an attempt to force Britain out of the Med for good. A little way off the front line, it was just as strategically important as those ports that were closer.

Except the hush did not extend beyond the city.

In a house near the seafront, a young boy woke to the sound of humming. It was not the usual sound of a ship coming into port at night, as it would be louder due to the vicinity of the port just a few hundred metres away. The noise came from out at sea, a buzzing sound that only seemed to grow louder to his sensitive ears. Abdul was only nine years old, which meant the sound of distant humming that he did not understand, scared him. Whenever he would become scared, he would go to his father to try to seek comfort, gravitating to the man who sought to protect him.

"أب! أب". He shouted.
("Father!, Father!")

"إرجع إلى النوم".
("Go back to sleep")

His father could not hear the hums that grew louder, but his young sister could. She was soon into their parents' bedroom too along with the two older brothers. All of them could hear something humming out at sea, that was getting closer and closer. When the mother and father eventually heard it too, the Italian Navy units that were in port were also able to hear it. Alarms suddenly began to be raised around the port, as multiple small lights appeared in the clouds that advanced upon the city. There were soldiers shouting at civilians to get indoors, knowing exactly what was to come even if the families did not. There were British aircraft in the sky that night, which were only ever going to be heading to the port when they were properly sighted. The Navy crews were quickly manning their guns, as the British took time to appear in a firing position in the middle of night.

Innocent civilians like Abdul and his family were not at risk, as the British Airman were only going to be interested in the Italian Naval targets docked within the shallower waters of the port. The crews of said ships, as well as their supply ships, would not be so lucky as they were going to bear the brunt of the attack when it came. The crews trained to battle the British pilots though, smashing them with anti-aircraft fire to drive the planes away, and at best, take a few down. Whether it be the heavy bombers of the Royal Air Force or their fighter escorts like the growing legend that was the Spitfire, the Naval crews were ready.

Except they were facing neither of those opponents.

Lining up to attack Benghazi were the Fleet Air Arm.

More precisely, 815 and 819 Squadrons and their Swordfish were the lights in the sky that they would be focusing on. Which meant going up against the fiercest opponent of them all, the best pilot that Britain possessed, and perhaps the best they'd ever had.

The scourge of the skies.

Lieutenant Commander James Maguire.

High up in the moonlit sky, the calm night air was home to nine Stringbags of the 815 and another six from the 819. At the front of the formation was their commander, the soon to be twenty-year-old commanding officer of a fearsome set of pilots. Their task in Benghazi was a rather simple one; there were Italian ships there… sink them. They would also need to mine the harbours, but that was a job that James left to the units from the 819 as he once again argued the point of the mining exercises to his superiors, though compromised at having another squadron complete the task. The 819 were slightly behind his force, the six of them carrying only the sea mines themselves which would be planted at the entrances. Beyond the entrances, the task of sinking the Italian Navy and supply ships would fall to James and his men. An extensive briefing took place before take-off, with every man knowing his role to avoid any confusion once they arrived over their target.

"This is Squadron leader to all units…". James radioed to his eight aircrews. "… proceed as planned gentleman. Happy hunting".

Cheered up by the great faith that the young man placed in them, the crews plunged down to sea level to begin their attack runs on the port. As soon as they descended the Italians gunners began to open fire from both the decks of the surface ships and a few anti-aircraft batteries on the ground. They would be so low that the soldiers on guard duty could even contemplate discharging small arms fire towards them, confident that it could cause damage to their attackers. The problem that the gunners were facing though, was that at sea height, the Swordfish were testing the decompression ability of their weapons. Having to fire so low without much experience of ever doing so, the crews missed the attacking aircraft completely as they arrived out of the dark.

In a change to his usual leading from the front, James stayed as the lone aircraft in reserve to allow his men to prove themselves without him. He instead circled around the outskirts of the port, occasionally receiving some stray anti-aircraft fire that would pass close to his aircraft. In the spotter's position, David watched on to give him updates as the battle raged over the port.

"How are they looking, David?" James called to him on the radio, forgetting formalities.

"Ach well James, I think the lads doin' the minin' are in luck because our boys are takin' all the feckin' fire so they are".

David provided an excellent commentary on what was occurring below them, as the 819 were virtually untouched by the heavy fire from the inland batteries. They'd arrived a few seconds behind the diving force of bombers, dropping their first set of mines in unison before turning to circle for the second set. The Irishman watched as they cleared the city without a single searchlight placed upon them, hugging the sea on their sweeping turn. The same level of calm could not be attributed to those men of the 815 though, as the aircraft were peppered by the full force of the Italian guns. Although they may have been difficult to hit, they were by no means impossible to hit either. The lead two planes, one piloted by Lieutenant Lamb, took plenty of material damage as he lined up on a run. They remained undaunted though, as they were led by the best of the best which was enough to give any airman confidence.

One of the Italian supply ships was the first to find itself out of luck in the early hours of the Mediterranean morning. The Gloria Stella, a ship of over five thousand gross tonnes, sat prettily in the harbour, full to the brim of supplies that would be taken to the next port up the line, Derna. Derna's garrison would never ever see those supplies though, because the 815's second in command managed to get a good sighting of the ship. After one of the other Swordfish's bombs narrowly missed the freighter, Lieutenant Barnes, who'd been towards the rear of the attacking formation, suddenly found himself guided perfectly in by his spotter. The spotter got him where he needed to be, with Barnes having the composure about him to wait until the perfect moment to release two of the bombs. One bomb crashed straight into the deck of the freighter, which quickly took on water and began to sink.

"James!" David called down. "Direct hit on one!"

Unable to see how James' face lit up, David enjoyed the success himself from the rear seat of the Swordfish. Neither could tell which one of the aircraft scored the successful hit, but the details of who would be mentioned in dispatches would come later. Several other explosions could be heard as the rest of the aircraft completed their runs, but no further Italians ships were hit directly. The bomb that struck the Gloria Stella caused a part of the ship to explode, in turn damaging the tugboat that unfortunately found itself alongside the stricken freighter. The crews of both ships were able to abandon, though not before the Captain of the tug boat managed to ensure that his ship didn't join the Gloria Stella under the waves.

The 819 were back at the entrances to the harbour a minute later, though this time they were not afforded the same cover as they'd received during the first run. Unload their mines they did though, taking some damage on their way out of the vicinity, but nothing serious that would worry any of the pilots. For the six aircraft, it was a successful venture, with the leader of their group radioing to James that they were going to head for home.

"Squadron leader, this is Green One, over!"

"Green One, this is Squadron leader, over!" James replied.

"Pay delivered, we'll get the tea on, over!"

Chuckling to himself, James appreciated the man's jesting even mid-battle. The men would have certainly earned their cups of tea once the attack was over. Their tea ration was not that big, but James being the expert that he was, ensured that it lasted. The fact that the young woman in Alexandria knew where some additional supplies could be found was not something he or David would admit to knowing about when it came to the tea. After allowing her to walk off with David, he'd quickly rescued him from her clutches. Once it was explained to her, the beautiful singer was more than amicable with them. They'd made an instant friend in her, despite her displeasure on missing out on the Irishman when she thought he was incredibly good looking. She would be a hero to the men if they knew of her though, as the reason they could enjoy a post-flight cup of tea was her knowledge of surplus tea supplies in the city.

As the 819 departed the arena of battle, the eight aircraft of the 815 passed underneath their still circling commanding officer. The eight flew in formation, temporarily shielded from the anti-aircraft fire as the Italians paused to reload their guns whilst the Swordfish were only on the periphery of their range.

"They're on their way in again James". David informed him.

"Good". The Englishman replied. "Hopefully it will be more successful this time".

Although one freighter was sinking and a tugboat was heavily damaged, it was not the success that James was hoping for. They needed to sink more of the Italian ships for it to be considered one, so they would have to go in again to drop the rest of their bombs in order to complete their objective. Lieutenant's Barnes and Lamb led the wave in as the ineffective Anti-Aircraft fire littered the air around them. A couple of the Swordfish ended up with damage, but only to the very outer layer of the thick material that covered the metal tubes that held the aircraft together. The crews were unharmed, ready to unleash hell on the Italians trapped in the port. Benghazi was not the most ideal port for a torpedo attack, which was the only saving grace for the Regia Marina who were housed there. It was little solace though, because they were facing an aircraft that could be converted from Torpedo carrier to bomb carrier very quickly. If the ships weren't being sunk one way, then they were being sunk the other.

The Maria Eugenia and Borea were the next two ships that fell target to the sights of the Swordfish pilots. The latter was where Barnes and Lamb turned their attention to, but neither of the pilots were able to land a hit with the bombs that they jettisoned. The former was nowhere near as fortunate. One man who'd flourished under James' leadership was the youngest man in the whole squadron, Parkin. He'd been a keen learner under the Lieutenant Commander, who was only just older than he was, and the lessons gradually were paying off. His crowning glory came right at that moment though, as like it's fellow freighter Gloria Stella that sank before it, the Maria Eugenia was rather a sitting duck. Two bombs that were dropped from his aircraft, smashed into the ship, with the latter striking the small magazine that was kept beneath deck. The ensuing explosion nearly knocked Parkin's Swordfish out of the sky, but he held onto it as he climbed away with the rest of the squadron.

There would be investigations by the Italian commanders in the area that would drag on into the night. Quite how their men allowed the whole group of Swordfish through, flabbergasted the officers who were witnessing two ships being sent to beneath the waves courtesy of the insane British pilots in their old biplanes. The Anti-Aircraft guns were designed to keep enemy aircraft away from the vulnerable ships like the two freighters that were docked, as well as the surface ships. Though those ships could fight back, they were designed for battle with other ships at sea, not with the Fleet Air Arm's squadrons. As Parkin pulled away, the soldiers, sailors and civilians of Benghazi could all breathe a sigh of relief, as within five minutes it was over…

The crew of the Borea were damn unlucky though.

After believing the attack to be over, they all began to remove themselves from their positions to face the wrath of their commanding officers. Not one man, woman or child in the whole of Benghazi noticed that there was one more Swordfish that managed to sneak in on the waterline. The humming sound was present, but it was assumed to be that of the departing aircraft, not another entering the fray. When they did eventually see it and the call went out, every man was back to their stations aboard the ship alongside the other ships with Anti-Aircraft weaponry and the batteries that dotted the seafront. Every single heavy weapon that they could lay their hands on was trained on the slowly moving target. It made absolutely no different whatsoever.

A sea of fire couldn't stop James Maguire.

The Borea was damn unlucky that of all of the pilots lined up to sink the largest ship in port at that moment, it was him, with David on hand to get the approach spot on. Even in the moonlit night, when visibility was hardly fantastic, the Irishman was able to put his best friend right on course for the destroyer that was frantically discharging anti-aircraft fire into the path of the marauding Swordfish.

"Yer on course, James!". David called out down the radio. "Just keep her steady and I'll give ye the call".

Unlike when they'd attacked the Panzer division in France, James was spending far more of his concentration on merely keeping the aircraft steady. The tanks only got two salvos in before they were destroyed, whereas the Anti-Aircraft batteries were pouring constant streams of flak their way. It left David with more to do as spotter, being the one who would call out at the moment when the bombs needed to be dropped.

"They are not best pleased with us…".

Somehow, through a hail of enemy fire, James still found the time to crack a joke. Snorting with amusement on his end of the radio, David only let his concentration slip for a half-second before he returned to keeping his eyes fixed firmly forward. The distance to the Borea was rapidly closing as the fire from the guns intensified. From the rear seat, David's breath caught as some of the anti-aircraft fire tore into the side next to where he was sat, though it did not penetrate through to strike him. Suicidal attacks against an enemy with far more firepower was something of a forte for the pairing of Maguire and Donnelly though, with Benghazi merely their latest playground.

"VAI! VAI!"
("Go! Go!")

When they realised that the aircraft could not be stopped, the anti-aircraft crews were not in the mood for waiting to be hit onboard the Borea. Diving onto the pier, they refused to be caught up if a bomb were to land on the deck.

"Steady James…". David almost whispered.

Time began to slow with every passing bit of flak that went past, which receded thanks to the Borea's crew's abandonment of their posts. They were nearly level with the bow, barely above the height of the ship. James knew he was going to have to pull out quickly, much faster than he had with the admittedly quick withdrawal when they'd bombed the tanks. It would be tight if they were going to make it out alive.

Soon only David's voice could be heard to James, the sound of discharged weaponry disappearing in the ears of the gallant pilot.

"Steady…".

"Steady…".

"NOW!"

David shouted down the radio as the exact moment to release their explosives came. James's finger pressed down, releasing the bombs from their spot under the wing.

"BOMBS AWAY!" He shouted.

Commencing a violent bank to the right, James held the aircraft steady as the Borea's state of bad luck became known to the whole of Benghazi. Inexplicably, one of the two bombs missed, striking the waterline next to the ship, but the other entered around the platform of one of the main guns. Striking one of the sweetest spots on the ship, the bomb battered a path through the hold where it exploded, deep within the destroyer's inner workings. A crewman, asleep in the engine room near to the blast, was killed instantly as a larger explosion than the previous one kept the likes of young Abdul awake in wonder from his home a few hundred metres away.

The Swordfish shook violently from the blast and try as he might with all of his skill, James knew he didn't have the right clearance space for a clean getaway. Suddenly they were pitched down, the gentle night waves of the Med in the eyes of the two best friends. Frozen cold in fear of his life, David said nothing as his best friend desperately wrestled back control of the aircraft, somehow pulling it back out of its dive before they struck the water. The danger was not over yet though, because as James saved them from the water, he placed them right in the path of the outstretched stone pier. With the sudden need to gain height, he yanked the aircraft up into the air, barely clearing the stone. If he'd have reached out, David could have touched it from the rear seat, they were that close.

Continuing to gain height, David finally breathed out as the colour returned to his face. He didn't need to have it communicated down the radio to be able to hear the sigh of relief from James, who'd very nearly skirted them into disaster after dropping the bombs. Knowing it was going to be tight was helpful, but neither man expected it to be so tight that they'd nearly tickled the water and renovated the stone pier in a matter of seconds.

"Christ!" David found his voice, shouting down the radio. "That was too fuckin' close James! Far too fuckin' close!"

Finding it within himself to be amused by David, James laughed back down the radio to David's surprise. To the Irishman it was no laughing matter; they'd nearly died. But to his English best friend, they'd survived with little more than aesthetic damage to their aircraft. A job well done.

"I would presume by the backblast, we did a fair amount of damage?"

Glancing back over his shoulder, David was greeted with the clouds of smoke and fire that burst up into the air they'd vacated. The whole city was illuminated by the burning Italian destroyer, an idyllic backdrop to the deathly scene that was unfolding in the port.

"They know we've been James. Lit up like the dance floor at my weddin', so it is".

"Oh dear…". James giggled. "… we best get ready to attack again then".

As the two of them joked away with the Swordfish heading back on course for the Illustrious, the reality of what they'd done wasn't just sinking the Borea. The ship would of course still sink, but what they'd done was more than drop a bomb in the hold. Once the explosive went off, the destroyer split in half in a mere few seconds, sinking rapidly as it broke up on its way down to the shallow seabed beneath. Panicked Italian sailors disembarked rapidly upon the very quick realisation that nothing could be done to save the ship that they called home. Luckily, the only stroke of luck the Italian crews received, another destroyer hidden from the view of the attacking Swordfish, the Aquilone, took aboard the surviving men. A short swim it might have been, but it was better than drowning in the lower decks of the flooding destroyer.

"Did ye really need to do that though James?"

The plan to attack the Borea came as a spur of the moment decision for James. As he'd circled, he'd noticed how his own men's attempts to land a hit on it came to nothing, which was a great shame. When all attention was diverted to the Maria Eugenia, the Borea suddenly became an appetising target. Even more so when the anti-aircraft guns stopped firing as Parkin flew away. Although he knew he'd never reach the destroyer without them coming under intense fire, he knew with David's excellent spotting, they could at least land a hit on the ship.

"We had a job to do, David". James reminded him. "The men might have done brilliantly, but I set the tone for the Squadron remember. I could hardly leave the largest ship in the port untouched now, could I?"

There may have been a touch of the extravagant about James, and the manoeuvre he'd executed, but his friend could appreciate the logic to it. He'd given the men the chance to show him that they were more than capable of conducting operations against Italian ships without him. Still, the Lieutenant Commander needed them to be inspired by what he did. Taking a back seat to allow them the opportunity was the right thing to do for their experience. Leading from the front was the right thing for him, though, and the rest of the squadron could watch on as their commanding officer again showed them how it was done. That was the officer that he was to them; gallant, brave but above all, bold and fearless. No Airman could ask for a better commanding officer than James.

"We best be off now though...". The Englishman started up the conversation again. "… I wouldn't want my cup of tea to get cold!".

"Typical English!" David scoffed. "Always thinkin' of the tea first!"

"We are savages for our tea, David. Unhinged savages…".

The heat of battle soon became the cool breeze of their flowing banter, which could pick up again with little danger to be faced. Italian fighters would not dare go out in the dark to attempt to locate the Swordfish in case they were targeted by the British Fleet who were experts in night-time combat. With only their own aircraft to focus on until the Illustrious was sighted again, they could afford to slip into their joviality.

"That cup would be even more inviting with some of Erin's poetry to read alongside it…". James happily mused, thinking of her as he did so.

"Wise up James!". David shook his head behind him. "That ship back there would have sank a lot more sweetly if her poetry was on it!"

Another argument about the poetry was looming, one which would always reach an impasse with neither man willing to abandon their point of view. It would be one that could be held though, because yet again the combination of James Maguire and David Donnelly dealt damage to those who were willing to spread their evil influence throughout the world. The Italian Military were getting more than they bargained for with the British Fleet, which housed the two of them, a powerful duo that was growing into legend as much as Laurel and Hardy.

There was nothing funny about what the two of them did though.

They were serious.

As was the war itself, which would only continue to become more so…