July 29, 1940. London, England.

It's strange but...on the day that I went back...I don't really remember very much before I went up in my plane. It all seems like a bloody blur to me. I'm sure that I had some breakfast with my mates and went on some drills before we got the call to go up. For the last 19 days, the Krauts had been bombing us like mad. They wanted to begin a blitzkrieg to conquer Britain just like they had done everywhere else in Europe. But they knew how strong the RAF was though. Jerry knew that if he was going to storm our beaches, he'd have to smash our flyers to bits. We went up every day to repel the Luftwaffe. They would shoot down some of our lads, we would shoot down some of theirs, and then to balance the scales… they would shoot down some more of ours.

As I earned my wings in aerial combat, the first thing I learned was that when you are in the military… it's so blinking hard to make mates. 2 days before, I'd enjoyed a drop of ale with a couple of gents from Liverpool, the next day they both got shot down. When a shot comes, all we can do is swerve. We can never know from which direction it will come. I can be blasted to bits on the ground as I'm running to my plane or I can survive ten hours unscathed up in the sky. Of course, every airman believes in chance and trusts his luck, but no airman outlives a thousand chances. Even more so when you don't know how to conduct yourself. The new recruits are more trouble than they are worth. Between 5 and 10 get killed to every one of us seasoned flyers. The worst part is that most of the time, they get killed simply because they are so inexperienced. It's little rubbishy things that end up getting into an awful jam and claiming their lives.

Anyway, as we went up, the bullets rained down on us like drops of rain on a stormy night. How we manage to dodge them all, I will never know. I managed to shoot down a couple Krauts as I attempted to avoid as many bullets as I could. There were so many planes in the sky, we looked like flies buzzing over a corpse. I could see the entire battle raging from the windows of my cockpit, but I never wanted to look too long. Lose your focus even for a few seconds and it could be the last mistake you make.

As I was flying over the London rooftops, I noticed that there was a Kraut on my tail that I could not shake. I kept trying my best to give him the slip, but it proved fruitless. I wrestled with the controls of my plane, trying to push it as fast as it could possibly go. Suddenly, the sky in front of me burst into a sort of beam of white-hot light; it was blinding and stabbed my eyes. I couldn't stop in time to avoid the mysterious blaze and flew straight into it and fantastic phantasms of glittering light swirled all around me as if made of mist. All the hairs on my body stood straight up and my head spun as I grew lightheaded. I kept flying forward, praying that I might be hallucinating from the G-force. Eventually the lights faded into the blue skies ahead of me and farmland dropped below me in all directions. There was no telling where I was and I decided I needed to land and get my bearings. I noticed a strange clump of buildings in the distance; the walls must have been made of stone or other ancient material whereas the castle was most impressive. The colors of the banners and flags waving in the wind looked like wildflowers dancing in the air. It looked like something out of a Renaissance fair. Nevertheless, I began to put my plane down. There was no runway to land, so I had to make due with an empty field. My plane hit the earth with a jolt and my teeth rattled in my skull as I ground to a stop.

Once the world stopped shaking, I looked about and saw acres upon acres of farmland. I also saw the city still far off on the horizon. I pulled out what supplies I had from my plane and decided that my best course of action was to make my way towards the city. As I walked, I noticed that the roads were rather rough as if they had never been driven on by a motorcar which was rather strange as motorcars were rather commonplace these days. I had walked for a couple miles and got closer to the city when I saw men on horseback approach me. They were wearing breastplates of iron with an English lion on it. I was confused by the sight of them as they rode up to me.

"Who are you, stranger?" one of the men asked.

"Who are you and why the Hell are you dressed in them bloody costumes?" I asked in return. I had clearly said something wrong because the next thing I knew, they all drew swords and surrounded me. I could do nothing but raise my hands and accept whatever fate awaited me while beads of sweat dripped down my back as the cold sword points drew nearer.