Raine, that sunset shot is fantastic, another fine episode. And oh, that new livery!
MFair, what can I say about your mess episode, except to finish it. .
After Lieutenant Jericho had thrown his friend Swanson to the wolves he quietly slinked away, the gales of laughter covering his furtive retreat from the mess. This left Swany alone to face the withering fire now trained directly at him. The young airman could feel his face beginning to flush but he knew full well that if he let any embarrassment or ire show it would only make things a hundred times worse, so he fought back his initial reaction. Instead, he let a broad smile spread across his face as he slowly shook his head side to side. When the sniggering and jibes began to settle a bit he lifted the wine he’d been nursing through supper and quaffed it down in one go, then plunked the empty glass back on the table with a theatrical flair and announced in a bold voice, “Vell, tanks to Mark it looks like my secret is out.” The mess quieted, and Swany continued. “It’s true, I am the great great great great great great grandson of Odin, the Norse god of war and of the sky. That’s why I’m so dam’d good at flying and fighting.”
“And do you shoot the lightning bolts from your arse then as well?” someone repeated, though Swany wasn’t sure who due to the hoots and chortles that followed.
“Who said dat?” Swany fired back with a grin. “I’ll bet it was Christian. Vell, whoever it vas, you stand me a few beers, a half dozen hard-boiled eggs, and a jar of pickled radishes and in about an hour you can experience those lightning bolts firsthand.”
More waves of laughter, more joking and jabs, more alcohol-induced cleverness. Swany managed to give as good as he got throughout the exchange. Then someone started banging on the piano and it all turned into a riotous singsong.
It was nearly midnight when 2nd Lt. Swanson slipped quietly back into his hut. He had removed his boots before he’d entered so as not to wake anyone. He crept over to his bunk and set down his boots, then crossed the room to Mark’s bed. His friend was sound asleep as Swany bent down, silently grabbed the side rail, and flipped the bed and it’s occupant onto the floor. Jericho sat up bolt straight, blanket flying, ready to fight, and called out into the dark, “What the hell!”
“Goodnight Mark”, Swany replied as he crawled into his own, upright bed.
“Yeah, I deserved that”, Jericho chuckled. “G’night pard.”