Same day ” Libya-Egypt border Get that bloody arsehole off our fucking taiByelled Bea frantically, pulling up hard on the yoke and turning sharply into her pursuer at near full power, a lone Italian Macchi 202 dressed in spotted tan desert camouflage like a Cheetah, its guns ripping apart the unarmed, twin-engined C-47 Gooney Bird transport. The other two transports had peeled off to the north to escape. Copilot in several pieces, windshield’bracked, wind deafening, the starboard cockpit had been ripped open by 20 mm cannon rounds, but the American-built plane was tough, built to take punishment. Blood painted the control panel and Bea, dust from the diminutive sandstorm was everywhere, and shrapnel bits were lodged in her arms and face; she shook violently with shock and adrenaline. Wild evasive action was taken, throttles firewalled. Tossed about in the passenger compartment, mostly wounded veterans from the recent fighting at the Jalu Oasis in Libya, ten Australians, four New Zealanders, and a Free French officer and his Malian sergeant bodyguard had smashed open the windows and were giving return fire with two Bren machineguns and rifles, but their arc of fire was limited even when Bea yawed violently back and forth with the rudder. Put a hole in that sonofabitch! she yelled. The floor was slick with the blood from the dead and wounded; brass was everywhere, a mess. Big shell holes ventilated the compartment. Out of the twenty-two, fourteen were left alive. Panic, steady nerves, discipline, yells, moans of agony. Screaming, the Malian let go a full 20-round clip with his Bren, hitting the Italian fighter and causing a vapor trail from the wing, his starboard fuel tank hit. The Italian plane fled. An alarm. Gods, no! Hit severely, the starboard engine was now on fire; Bea feathered the prop, cut the fuel pump, and flipped the control for the extinguisher and