Fools Rush In…and Black Sheep Do Likewise

Author's Note: In reality, I am not a pilot nor am I quite yet old enough to obtain a Private Pilot's license. You must be 17 to apply for a private pilot's license. I do not take lessons as of yet but have been studying and saving for over a year. I am an artist though and I am sometimes called Yope by close relatives and friends. Clara has always been a favorite name of mine so that's why it's there in my pen name. If you've read my profile, you can probably guess that the part about me being a big fan of Robert Conrad is also true. I haven't seen a whole lot of "Black Sheep Squadron" so I hope I've got the characters down right.

I was inspired to do this story by Hogan MacGyver's story "The Triple Mess" (a Hogan's Heroes/Black Sheep Squadron crossover). It's a great story, so why don't you check it out? Thanks for writing that terrific story, Hogan MacGyver!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character's from the TV shows. And if the airplane's registration number in this story is a real registration number, it is merely coincidental.

Chapter 1 Destination: Vella la Cava

I never thought it could have ever happened. Well, not to me anyway. I mean I've always been fascinated with time travel and have often wondered if it might be possible, but…I'm getting ahead of myself.

My story begins at our local airfield where I rent a Cessna 182. I'm an artist and a private pilot; I just got my instrument rating five months ago and my license two years ago. Oh, my name is Precious Hope, sometimes I'm called Yope - it's sort of a nickname - and I'm a fanfiction writer. Around the fanfic world, I'm known as RowdyClara and so far I've been mostly writing Wild, Wild West and Rawhide stories. And those who call me Precious usually get the glaring of a lifetime. I'm also a big fan of Robert Conrad and email him regularly.

Anyways, getting back to what happened, my dad drove me out to the airfield one morning and dropped me off. Today was the big day! I had finally saved up enough money to buy my own plane and was going to take my first flight in a plane to call my very own! I'd found out from the man who had been my flight instructor that a homemade plane that I'd flown in a couple of times and enjoyed was for sale.

The owner had made it to look like a F4U-Corsair on the outside but on the inside the instrument panel was modern and easy to use. Except for the fact that the owner had decided to keep a stick instead of a wheel to steer it with. Unlike a Corsair, also called "The Ensign Killer", which required an experienced pilot with plenty of skill, this baby had been modified so it no longer had most of those killer blind spots. It still had that tail wheel so taking off and seeing down the runway was a bit harder than with the Cessna, I still loved flying it. He had even gone as far as to redo the opening of the cockpit so that it slid open on the top like a real Corsair. It must've really taken a lot of time and money. He'd taught me a lot about the plane when he'd let me fly in it before and had even taught me a couple of tricks used to escape from 'the enemy' in the air. It was fun even though I doubt I'd ever have to use them.

I was kind of fond of the old bird and I'd been looking for a plane to call my own since I'd gotten my license. The manager of the airfield insisted that I take it out for a spin the week before and I did. It was swell and ran as smooth as ever! I practiced a couple of stalls and spins while trying the plane out and she did perfect. My instructor encouraged me to buy it. So that's what I did.

I waved to Charlie, one of the mechanics at the field. The sun was just dawning when I finished doing my pre-flight check. I climbed into the cockpit and did a cabin check. After making sure everything was in order, I fastened my seat belt and adjusted my headset comfortably atop my brown hair, which didn't want to stay in place today. I brushed my bangs out of the way and yelled, "Clear!" before sliding the canopy closed.

After starting up the engine, I looked around to make sure no other planes were about to takeoff and that none were about to land on the grass landing strip. The airfield where I trained and flew didn't have a control tower so we had to work on a see-and-be-seen basis.

All clear. The 'Corsair' taxied down the runway and I raised the flaps. It wasn't long before we reached the correct speed and I eased the nose of the plane upward.

I loved the thrill of taking off! The dawning sky was beautiful from up here. Everything looked so puny - even the buildings that had appeared so large from the ground downtown were like ants. And the river! The Ohio looked like a large, green line snaking across the land.

I would be taking my first flight in my plane to Georgia to see my best friend. I hadn't quite gotten up the courage to go see Robert Conrad at the radio station in California yet but…ah well. I was terrified I might embarrass myself and stutter or possibly, dare I say it? Faint. Yes, faint. I have never in my life fainted or even felt a bit faint but in a case like this, well, you must expect the un-expectable. My BFF might do the same if she met Michael Landon, Jr..

I usually flew to Georgia to see her every other weekend and we'd go shopping or something. This week we were going to go to an airshow which would include some WWII fighter planes and then on to a costume party that would take place after the show. I was going as a WWII Air Corps fighter pilot, a second Lieutenant to be exact. No point in getting greedy. And besides, I only owned a second lieutenant's insignia.

My bangs kept getting into my eyes, even though I kept them to the side, so I grabbed my flight cap that went with my costume out of the duffel bag behind my seat. I stuck my bangs under the cap and fastened it on. I'd tried to cut my hair and botched it but thankfully my sister had neatened it up for me so it didn't look so bad anymore. As a matter of fact, I was beginning to like the new do. Even though it was shorter than I was used to.

I was just entering the Georgia border when it happened. It was the strangest thing that's ever happened to me. I was cruising along smoothly and the winds were particularly calm this morning, when all of a sudden my craft seemed speed up suddenly. I had the strangest sensation of speed, yet the dials on the instrument panel showed everything to be normal. Huh. Odd. With my radio tuned into the correct frequency, I prepared to alert the control tower at my destination of my position and approximate arrival time.

"Atlanta Tower approach, this is Experimental 3-1-5 Hotel Yankee, 25 north, landing Atlanta Tower." Nothing. I checked my frequency again. It was correct. I tried again. "Atlanta Tower approach, Experimental 3-1-5 Hotel Yankee, 25 north, landing Atlanta Tower. Come in, Atlanta."

I was attempting to make contact with another nearby tower when I looked up from the controls and was shocked to see that my plane was engulfed in a heavy fog. But this wasn't your everyday, run-of-the-mill fog. It was kind of…reddish? We-ird. No problemo…or so I thought. I looked to my instrument panel so I could try to get out of the fog. The instruments were going haywire!

I continued trying to make contact with all nearby towers I could think of. With no success there, I decided to go a bit lower and try to get out of the mysterious, red tinted fog…and prayed that no other aircraft would be in the immediate area below.

Oh I made it out of the fog alright, but what I saw next gave me a real jolt.