09.12.2008, 18:41
The early dawn light was slowly rising over the mountains of the small isle that was Britannia. The air field was in a buzz as the landing Lancasters took over the base. The pilots preparing for take off watched the lumbering giants, some worse then others. The American pilots pointed to some of the in coming bombers, and their battle scars. Smoke and fuel filled the morning air, and the Fortresses and Liberators were adding to the smell. The green and white planes were waiting patiently as their British comrades settled in for the day.
As the cold air started to warm the run way was heating up with traffic. The Eighth-Air Force was off to bomb some god forsaken town in order to stop the German war machine. The roar of fighter planes joined the thunder of the hundreds of bombers already in the air. Lieutenant Malcolm Kenny watched from his turret in the B-17, Arizona Maiden. The crew like him were mostly green, their pilots only seeing some action in Mitchells and Invaders.
As the cold air started to warm the run way was heating up with traffic. The Eighth-Air Force was off to bomb some god forsaken town in order to stop the German war machine. The roar of fighter planes joined the thunder of the hundreds of bombers already in the air. Lieutenant Malcolm Kenny watched from his turret in the B-17, Arizona Maiden. The crew like him were mostly green, their pilots only seeing some action in Mitchells and Invaders.
