“What we are up to… And may you please refrain from shifting into fellow members of the Leauge, Mr Ashmore,” announced Maria, no, it was Marie now, was getting off the truck. She heard the shout of an aircrew member and stepped out to the strong stink of kerosene and burnt rubber, a fighter plane taking off in a high-pitched scream of engine noise and fuel. The soldiers driving the truck opened the doors to the cab and hopped out, rifles slung over their shoulders and flicked down the flaps to allow the men and women inside out, and Marie graciously took an outstretched hand as she hopped down; no need to ruin her new clothes now before they even arrived.

A group of airmen were standing around a Lancaster, the four huge engines whirring softly. They were part of a bombing run, realised Marie. They would just be the icing on the cake; get spies into France whilst giving the Kraut their daily ‘medicine’ at the same time. She shook her head and watched as another soldier approached her, before shaking her hand warmly. “Lance Corporal James McKenly ma’am.” He had the accent of someone from Dublin; an odd sight after the split with the rest of the union in the early twenties. 

“The bomber is all ready to go, as is all asked for equipment. I understand there are some without your wings, so we’ve installed a new model of parachute into the plane. All freshly packed and never used before, very flammable silk too. No need to bury them, just pick them up and set them alight in the safehouse. Bit like those new translations pads they have, you know, the ones that you can swallow if needs be?” The Italian nodded to indicate that he was making sense, before looking. “So, we’re ready to board at any time?”

“That is correct ma’am, yes.” The Irishman had already shaken her hand, thought Marie, so it wasn’t like she was reading his memories without his consent. He had an interesting life, that was for sure. Sweetheart too. Best not to get particularly attached; there were many more like him on both sides. Getting attached just made the news of their deaths harder than ever, and besides, it was highly unlikely she would meet McKenly again.

She indicated for the rest of the group to follow her inside the plane, the modified fuselage allowing for a number of parachutists to sit safely for the flight. A bucket was installed in the corner, the strong smell of chemicals coming from it and what looked like a shower-curtain ready to be pulled around it, as well as two overhead bins and two lockers. Immediately, she walked over to the locker and opened it, pulling out her equipment and flicking through the bag as others wondered in. Fifteen thousand Francs, a little more in Reichmarks. Documents for all of them, including work permit papers, documentation for why the men were excused from the military, as well as a host of other items. She would hand them out after the drop as she zipped it up, clipping it to her parachute ‘bag.’ The welrod had an armpit holster to go along with it, and she took off her jacket, adjusting the harness before strapping the pistol in.

“All of your gear is inside one of the overhead bins above. You’ll have to check to make sure it’s yours though, because for obvious reasons we can’t label the bags with your names. Documentation will be handed out when we’re in the safehouse. The pilo-“ just as she mentioned them, one of the crewmen walked into the area, before banging on the side of the plane, his bomber jacket loose and not done up. Yet.

“Alright! Listen up! This is an unpressurised plane, so breathing will be a little difficult due to the thin air, and it will get chilly, just a warning. Parachutes are in the other locket that is [i]not[/i] currently open. That door there and that door there will be opened by either me or another crewmember and they will tell you when to jump! Remember that we are moving extremely fast when we jump, the longer you wait around, the further away from the group. You [b]need[/b] to jump when we tell you. Five minutes, and then we’re up in the air. Good luck folks.”