We have ways of making you talk presents One Man's Window, an illustrated account of

10 weeks of war, multiple April 13th to June 21st, 1942 by Dennis Barner.

Chapter 18, Convoy Saturday, June 13th, exactly a week since I received

Dianna's letters and danced at the cafe. Although the CO and the rest of the pilots

are themselves dancing at the Sleema Club, I am alone in the mess for I need all my strength

unblunted by alcohol to pull me through the ordeal of the next few days. Leaning back

in my armchair and looking to the right of the window, I noticed that the multi-women

have arranged new flowers in the earth and way of pot, like new blooms on a grave. The

war goes on. Now the Convoy battle is upon us. The moment draws closer. In the darkness

that has settled quietly over our Mediterranean world, our reconnaissance planes and

willing to bombers, patrolling close to the Italian naval bases, wait for any sign

of movement from the enemy fleet. That fleet must get up steam and sail shortly to achieve

an effective interception with our own slowly approaching merchantmen.

Enemy fighters and bombers must also be prepared, for in the last 48 hours not a single

daylight air-rate has disturbed the silence here. I don't want to die. I long to return

to my wife. I am no doubt boring my unmarried companions, by my continuous talkaboutter.

The CO tells me I am too much married, as if it were some kind of vice. I want so desperately

to see her again, yet I feel caught up in some inexorable pattern that must be seen through

to the end. I remember Bob during the sweeps last year. I remember him standing apart

from his companions in the dispersal hut, explaining his jinx, how things had gone wrong

in his last three flights. I remember his determination to face it and how he died in

flames over Lattuke. Although I do not believe in jinx as a third and evil force between

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