Free Two Blackbirds by Garry Ryan

was greased with green camouflage paint, and he was loaded down with parachutes, a Sten gun, and enough ammunition to start his own tiny war. He can’t be a year older than Sean.
    The commando held out his hand and helped her out of the plane. Too polite to refuse, she took his hand.
    The waiting commandos parted to let her pass. They smelled of sweat, greasepaint, cigarettes, and gun oil. When she stepped past the last of the men, one of them said, “All right, boys. Off we go!”
    One of the commandos said, “Off on another of Monty’s fuckin’ escapades.”
    She turned to watch the men climb aboard the Dakota in its camouflage green with the white and black invasion stripes on the undersides of the wings. I wonder how many of them will be alive at the end of today?
    A half-hour later, she sat in the last seat of the duty Anson as it flew back to White Waltham. Out the window, she could see the stream of aircraft — all manner of two- and four-engined aircraft — flying east.
    After another delivery, she returned to White Waltham.
    Ernie and Edgar waited outside of the hangar as she walked away from the air taxi. Sharon checked her watch and saw that it was nearly six o’clock. She turned at the sound of a Jeep approaching at high speed.
    Beck skidded to a stop, pointed at Edgar, then hitched his thumb to indicate that Edgar should get in the back. Edgar climbed in, the MP executed a U- turn and roared off.
    â€œWe’d better get busy on those letters,” Sharon said.
    It took about an hour between bites of beans and potatoes to write out the details of both letters. They left the mutton untouched.
    â€œMother said he’ll get them typed up for us.” Sharon took the two handwritten letters and set them to one side.
    â€œWhat do we do if Edgar leaves? Things are running smoothly right now.” Ernie looked at the mutton on his plate. He used the back of his left hand to push the plate to his left, then crossed his arms.
    â€œI’ll have to find a replacement for him.”
    â€œI can’t blame him for leaving. He’s been telling me about the way he gets treated.” Ernie looked at the other side of the room.
    â€œOn the American base?” Sharon followed Ernie’s gaze and saw a clutch of pilots gathered around a table with Lady Ginette at its head.
    â€œThere, here, back home.” Ernie turned his eyes to Sharon. “Makes you wonder if some of the Nazis are on our side.”
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” Sharon made eye contact with Ernie as she felt the anger boiling in her belly.
    â€œYou gotta know your place in the pecking order around here, if you know what I mean.” Ernie cocked his head in the direction of the good Lady and her entourage.
    â€œHello.”
    Ernie and Sharon turned to face a young woman. She was taller than Ernie, had prominent front teeth, freckles, and unruly curly red hair, and wore a uniform that was a size too big. “Molly Hume,” the woman said, extending her right hand. “I’m a new replacement pilot fresh out of Haddenham.”
    Sharon took the hand and was surprised by the strength in the wiry grip of the long fingers. “Sharon Lacey.”
    â€œErnie.” He stood and shook Molly’s hand.
    â€œHave a seat. What part of Scotland are you from?” Sharon asked.
    Molly smiled. “Glasgow. It’s that obvious?”
    Sharon smiled back. “Where are you billeted?”
    â€œMother’s taking care of all that. How come everyone calls him Mother?” Molly sat down next to Sharon and across from Ernie.
    â€œBaa haaa haaa!” The comment was followed by impolitely suppressed laughter from Lady Ginette’s table.
    Sharon stood up, turned, and looked at the men and women at Ginette’s table. None met her gaze. One muttered, “Sorry.”
    Sharon sat back down, felt the heat of rage on her face, and looked at Molly. “Sorry