I was only nineteen when Hitler's armies started their rampage through Europe. My dream was to become Britain's first female Spitfire pilot. I knew it was going to be hard. The Royal Air Force is a male-dominated institution and it isn't about to change just because I want it to.
Younger men with less flight time and experience have been given the chance to climb into Spitfire cockpits ahead of me. In fact, in my first two years in the RAF, I was nothing more than a glorified cabbie... ferrying Lancaster bombers from their factories in Canada across the Atlantic, or flying the 'grumpy hippo', the Sunderland flying boat, on mail routes from Scotland to Iceland. That's not what I joined up for, but that's all they would let me do.
I have to tell you, after a while I was more than a bit fed up with the brass hats and their stuffy attitudes. And if you know me, you know I'm not someone to let an opportunity pass by to speak my mind. And that's probably why I was exiled by the Air Ministry to Enysfarne in Cornwall. Well, that's a lie. I'll tell you the real story over a pint of scrumpy in the Portcullis Inn. What you need to know is that Royal Naval Station Enysfarne has to be the most remote military base in Southwestern England, maybe in all of England come to think of it. And there's some strange goings-on inside its ancient walls.
Anyway, the base needed a pilot for their Sunderland flying boat, and I can fly those in my sleep. But on my first night in Enysfarne, the Luftwaffe tore it to pieces! At that point, I thought my war was over.
And what a devastating raid it was! The skies over Cornwall were filled with Platzies. They took down the radar towers above Treporth. Then there were those ugly Wasp things. And those dreadful Kegs. First time I'd seen either of them in action, and they're truly fearsome machines. The Kegs did the most damage. My Sunderland was easy prey. But when only four of the blighters took down twenty of our Spits, I was devastated. It looks so hopeless up there. The Luftwaffe decimated the airstrip at RAF Penzance before retiring back to France. I watched it all from the castle keep, helpless to do anything about it!
But not anymore.
Fate and circumstance have come to my rescue. Young genius, Dr. Nigel Pennbridge has built an experimental sub-hunting seaplane called the DragonFly. And with invasion on the horizon and a desperate shortage of pilots, I now find myself in the cockpit of the most revolutionary fighter-bomber the world has ever seen.
I can't wait to get started!