From Out Of The Sea Of Sand

The year is 1941, many battles across Europe and Northern Africa are being fought, as the grip of the Second World War tightens. As so often, when at war, peoples lives are changed by a flash of circumstance.
One such person is Captain Clinton Mackintosh, who whilst serving as a pilot for the Royal Airforce proves to be the sort of brave man that the British forces so desperately needed.

Having joined 540 squadron Clinton's main job was to fly many reconnaissance missions, gathering important information that helped not only the airforce but the land forces. Many of these missions were met by trouble from the German airforce, the Luftwaffe. It was no easy task flying in these perilous times.

540 Squadron had been sent to Northern Africa to try and stem the flow of Field Marshall Erwin Rommel's army. Rommel who had earned the nickname "The Desert Fox" was proving to be a proverbial thorn in the Allies side, as he made great advances through North Africa. the British troops were determined to meet this cunning enemy and defeat him.

On this day, "Valentines Day", February 14th, 1941 Captain Clinton Mackintosh the son of a Scottish father and a Canadian mother was summoned to see his C. O. , who gave him his new orders. Having been briefed he ran to find his friend and navigator Peter Burkley. When he found him he said, "C'mon Peter we've got a job to do."
"what's that then?" Peter replied interested.
"Can't really say, but, I've been told to take one of the Mosquito's."
"Ok then, let's go. Where are we heading?" Asked Peter.
"We've got to go to Giza. It should be pretty safe, there aren't many Messerscmitts in the area." said Clinton, grinning. He was eager to get started.
They both climbed into the waiting Mosquito. Clinton at the controls and Peter sat behind. A couple of minutes later they were airborne.

imagine the sky all around them, and clouds that looked like pink and blue candy floss skimming beneath their two wings. The clouds colours changing, as if by magic, at the direction of the powerful sun.

Clinton's heart soared, as did the Mosquito Aeroplane that he controlled so perfectly with his more than capable hands. He turned his head, and called to his companion over his shoulder.
"I say, Peter. You won't see better sights than these from terra firma!"
The plane gracefully dipped beneath the carpet of clouds.
"Ha, you're right there, ol' chap. It's bloody marvellous! Look, you can even make out the Pyramids!" Clinton's companion shouted excitedly.
"It was good of them to let us use this plane."
"Yes, I had to promise I would deliver something on our way back."
"What, a message?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"I can't say. Mum's the word and all that." He said, and changed the subject. "
Can you imagine what the Pharaoh's would've been like if they had had the power of flight?" , said Clinton, acting as if he was still struck by awe at the sight he had seen several times before.
"Eh, I don't think they needed to fly in those days." Said Peter, mightily amused at Clinton's thinking.
"No, I suppose not." He replied.
Clinton then banked the small craft to the left, so they could get a better view. His mind drifting back to the events that had made this flight necessary. His C.O. Squadron Leader P.J. Wells had summoned him to an unusual briefing, of the top most importance. When he entered the office he had found his C.O. pacing up and down, obviously troubled. On the wall to his right was a huge map of North Africa. On it coloured pins marked the positions that the allies and Germans held. The C.O. turned his gaze to Clinton, and explained his predicament. according to top secret intelligence gathered by certain secret operatives, Rommel's forces were set to launch an attack on Tobruk.
Clinton was given the orders to deliver vital information and documents to the allied camp out by Giza. Information that was deemed unsafe to send by the usual transmitting methods. It was an important mission, that had to be carried out discreetly. It was difficult to trust anybody these days.
The amazing sight of the great pyramids at Giza came nearer, little details becoming more apparent the closer they got.
"Cor, look at that!" Said Peter.
"That's the Sphinx. the face is supposed to be a likeness of the Pharoah buried in the middle pyramid. I think his name was Khafre. The great pyramid, the one on the right belongs to his father, Khufu."
"How come you know all this?"
"A friend of mine is an Egyptologist, and historical nut. He told me."
Peter nodded. "it's good of you to bring me up here." he said.
"We you can't come to Egypt without seeing the Pyramids."
"That's true. Didn't expect them to be so huge though."
"Yeah, it's amazing. I was really surprised the first time I saw them."
Clinton flew around the pyramids once more. He looked below and could make out the allied camp beneath. Ant like soldiers ran about, busily preparing for their next battle against Rommel's army. Clinton turned to Peter and said, "there's a small package next to you in a cloth bag. When I say so I want you to drop it out of the plane."
"What is it?"
"It's the message I have to deliver."
"Oh."
"Yeah I'm going to go low in a minute. Just drop it out."
"Ok."
The Mosquito dropped in altitude and flew over the camp. Clinton watched for the right moment, and then said, "Right, hold it - Now! drop it. Good."
As the plane gained height once more and Peter confirmed he had seen a soldier pick up the package, Clinton spoke to Cairo, telling them the package had been delivered.
They had been perhaps flying for maybe only ten minutes retracing the route they had taken earlier when suddenly Peter alerted Clinton.
"Looks like we have picked up a tail. I think that's a lone Jerry plane following us and it's coming in fast."
"Right got it."
The Messerschmitt BF109 was closing in fast, Clinton took the Mosquito into a steep climb hoping that higher altitude would give him the chance to evade the German fighter plane. Being a reconnaissance plane the Mosquito wasn't going to be a good match against the enemy. He banked the plane right towards some cloud cover. The German pilot knew what he was doing and suddenly appeared from nowhere and it's forward guns let rip. Carlton took the plane into a dive to evade but nonetheless some bullets hit the fuselage. It didn't seem that the damage was bad. The German plane then came in again this time from the right and slightly ahead of them. Clinton turned the Mosquito forward and fired the Mosquito's Browning 303 guns at the oncoming Messerschmitt. With satisfaction Clinton and Peter saw a fire break out in the enemy plane. It seemed to stall in midair and then started to spiral down towards the desert beneath. Relieved they had survived the fight with a smaller faster plane , the Mosquito's occupants were quieter animated.
"Gosh that was close!" Exclaimed Clinton.
"Indeed Ol' chap - phew that was close. Well done on shooting that Jerry sod down. Thought we were going to buy it then."
"We had better head back, I don't want to run out of fuel. I don't think you'd like it if we had to spend a night in the desert."
Once again the small plane pierced the clouds above. The plane levelled out and then headed back towards Cairo.