Jacky Russell was just a 19 year old Missouri farm boy, but his life would take a sharp turn after December 7th 1941, and on this dangerous journey, he would develop strong feelings in his heart for the most unsuspecting woman he would ever met.
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Sargent Jacky Russell North Africa 1942, twenty miles South East of Biska, Algeria. "Mayday, repeat, mayday, this is DC3 74901, my copilot's dead, loosing fuel, carrying a hundred pounds of rations, medical supplies, and gasoline, pursued by one aircraft, repeat, mayday!" This wasn't my first song and dance, but I've never carried such a heavy load, crashed in the desert or had a crew member dead before, I was very relieved to hear a thick Scottish accent on the radio saying "DC3 74901 this is Red leader we see you and are engaging your pursuer." Just after hearing that little piece of hope I heard a burst of mg fire and my left engine burst into flames. Two British P40 fighters flew beside me and then I saw a flaming Italian scout plane hit the Algerian dunes below, and before I met the same fate, I bailed out. It wasn't the best parachute landing I made but at least I didn't die, the Italian wasn't so lucky. I made my way to what was left of my plane, to my surprise it was in good condition for going into the sand nose first. The British planes made a fly by, I gave them a salute and they both returned it, flying back to their base. I made a search through the reckage, and all I could salvage was my pistol, two cans of rations, and a half empty canteen, the rest of the supplies was buried under the sand. Looking to the North West, I saw a cloud of dust, and knowing the British was to the South East, that cloud wasn't the best thing right now. After twenty minutes a lone Italian motorbike arrived. As the driver got off he angrily said "Dannazione!" And started talking about how he forgot his wireless radio at the outpost in Biska, guess my aunt's German and Italian lessons were finally proving their use. Unnoticed I snuck up behind him and choked him, not the most joyful experience in my life, I needed his uniform and did not want to risk getting blood on it. I put my equipment in the bags of the bike, as much as I prefer my good old American made Colt 1911 in my holster than the Italian Beretta, but it would raise questions so I put the Colt in the bag. I dragged the body in the plane, I only had enough supplies to get to Biska, so I went there to get enough supplies to make it to the British lines.
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Author's Note Hope you guys enjoy and if you want to drop some recommendations for further chapters feel free.
