Operation FOXCHASE (ES ONLY IC - SEMI-REBOOT)

[Heavonia]

"Chaps? Cigarette?" Henry called, getting a nod and smile from Gareth.

"Aye, thanks sir." He said, taking one and lighting it as he settled down into the seats. Finally he was going to see some action, he thought. It had been years since the Furious in the last big dust-up, and now after so much waiting and watching the Germans be oh so German, now he was going to get a chance to do his bit again. True, he'd been up to a lot of stuff which wasn't exactly peaceful in between the wars - the peelers would attest to that, if they culd link half of what he'd done to him. Fortunately they couldn't, so he was able to sit in the plane with those lads and prepare to go god-knows-where... That wasn't Portugal.

Only half paying attention to what was going on, he turned at the Flight Lieutenant's words. "You're all just like we were the first time. My God, it's really happening again, isn't it?"

"Eyyup." The Londoner said in reply, "'Least this time no one will be saying 'it'll be over by Christmas' - unless we're about to win it for 'er maj' on this little jaunt."

[Gibberan]

"You're all just like we were the first time. My God, it's really happening again, isn't it?"

Cliff, who had just set an unlit cigarette between his lips, turned towards the direction of the voice behind him. Brits always had somewhat of a superiority complex, he thought snarkily as his eyes settled on the man who had so rudely interrupted his question. The old man? He must have been talking about the Great War. Neither Cliff nor his father had seen the elephant in those muddy fields of France all those years ago, but the stories he had heard weren't pretty. This guy, based off of his age, must not have had a great time in it either. But that was war. And this was not the talk of a cynic, like himself, this was the talk of a defeatist. Or worse, a philosopher.

War was war. People didn't come back, that was something Cliff had understood since he was a child. Maybe because he hadn't had to deal with it back then. But the principle remained true. What the hell did everybody think they were getting themselves into?

And yet, Cliff was no strangers to the horror of war. He knew the horrors of war that presented themselves even during peacetime. His navigator in his Devastator bomber, he was wise beyond his already advanced years. No, he urged himself to not dig up those painful memories. That's over with. The reason you're here is so you can forget all that. Redeem yourself. Even so, the thoughts of his years in the navy, the long, thirsty, sunburnt days on the Pacific, alone and guilty of survival, refused to leave his head. He had learned there was no such thing as a "war game", there was only pretending that the danger of death was not, in fact, omnipresent. It was a strange and alien concept. It had happened before, but it couldn't to them. And that was what had doomed him, and what doomed everyone who ever saw service for their country. Or, as he cynically reasoned to himself, for another.

But that was what he had signed up for.

Another F/L, this one also a bit older than himself, chirped up. "Eyyup. Least this time no one will be saying 'it'll be over by Christmas' - unless we're about to win it for 'er maj' on this little jaunt."

Cliff nodded in agreement, putting his painful memories out of his mind. "Come on, Mac," he said. "It'snot like we've got any delusions about why we're here or what we're fighting for. Like the good lieutenant's saying, we don't know a flying fuck...er, excuse me, don't know what in God's name the brass has in store for us when we leave from Lisbon. Maybe in the next few hours we'll have personally escorted Adolf Hitler to the gates of hell. I sure as shit don't know." He paused.

"What I do know is that we're here to do our jobs, whatever the hell that may be. And if Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary..." He quickly performed a sign of the cross. "...if they ordain it that me or you or all of us die today, well, I figure today is as good a day as any."

He realized he had violated one of his personal cardinal rules, one of the things he hated the most: preaching to the choir. So he reclined back in his chair, dug a Zippo out of his pocket, and lit the Lucky Strike that had been bobbing in his mouth the entire time.

[Organized States]

Cafe A Brasileira
Old Quarter, Lisbon


Carson sipped slowly on the cup. The coffee was hot. A brilliant blend of Brazilian flavors with a bit of colonial charm added in. Never in a million years did he see himself sitting at a table at a busy cafe in Lisbon. Nor did he think that he'd be able to arrive before the rest of 319 Squadron did. Apparently, someone in High Command really wanted him to be wherever 319 was going. After his interesting affair at the gate to RAF Manston, he was dropped off by staff sergeant at the coast with a fresh Sea Bag, and taken a motley of flights under a variety of names until he had reached this beautiful city that put his difficulty with Portuguese to the test.

"Mais um Italiano?" asked the waiter, a thin young man with deep Latin features that distinguished him as a local, unlike one or two of the other waiters, who appeared to be refugees from Holland. Carson opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the loud whine of aircraft engines. Carson's head shot up in disbelief as the Short Empire made its descent.

"No, I'm sorry. I've got a plane to catch." replied Carson as he grabbed his sea bag and began to sprint towards the docks. Civilian attire was hard to run in, but at the very least, it wasn't dress blues down a San Diego street. The Short Sunderland was gradually brought into towards its dock, with a number of ground service crew prepping the aircraft for a refueling. Carson strode to the end of the dock and boarded the aircraft and addressed the first officer he could find, a Royal Navy sub-lieutenant who appeared to be the aircraft commander, based on the bit of sweat on his brow.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?" He said in a flashback to his early Corps days, almost totally forgetting the RCAF indoctrination course he had received earlier this year.