It must be said that when Boyd and Gunnarson met for the first time, it took them some time to start talking. But after a misunderstanding with locals at "Crafty Tom's" bar, which left two unconscious, one heavily bleeding on the floor, (along with Tom's elderly mom seriously pissed, after Tommy released a shotgun into the ceiling) they became closer. London can be a dangerous place, especially in some neighbourhoods, and especially if a barman faces a guy who calmly walks towards a loaded gun. So to strengthen the friendship two pilots crossed the iced Thames casually chatting away and had another couple of drinks in more respected pub on the other side of the river.
Adrian Boyd's story was as simple as ever. His first crash behind enemy lines was prior D-Day, as his Typhoon squadron was engaged in operations against German supply lines.
-So there I was, strafing that bloody train, as one of those crafty jerrys gets into the flak panzer on the back of carriage. Next thing I know there is hailstorm of flak coming towards me as i come out of the dive. Not a big deal, they never hit anything anyway. But that jerry just got lucky, and my engine started leaking. So I naturally roll around a train and ram it.
- You did what? You RAM the train??!!
- Yes i did.
Surprisingly, Gunnarson believed it, may it was an ale, or honest look on Adrians face, but he did.
- As train went off the rails, my plane was thrown aside and i lost my left wing. Luckily it did not swirl a lot and stopped in the field nearby small forest with shallow riverbed. In overall confusion only one german noticed my crash landing and me, limping toward the cover. If it was not for the chaos of the trainwreck, it would be a different story. Some five or six germans gave me a chase, as ammunition in my plane started to go off, and they had to scatter. I kid you not, i believe one even stayed close to the Typhoon, so scared he was to go further.
- What did you had on you?
- Webley and my knife of coarse. Not a biggest weapons against the shmaisser, if you ask me. But when they spotted me, hiding in that dry riverbed and started taking pot shots at me. Big mistake.
- Why?
- My wingman, Billy, was still in the area, and we only fired rockets on our first pass. So he comes back, sees me, sees jerrys having a target practise, and the fuel dump goes off with a huge bang. Even i did not see him coming from above in all this madness, but i tell you this. He dived, gave a long burst and jerrys the from closest to last guy, who thought he would be safe next to my plane died. I never thought that a twenty mil cannon round can vaporise a man in a split second.
Then there was that crafty chap with a shovel, who tried to run back to train and get some help. Well, i shot him in the back of the skull I made my way to a hidden airstrip, where resistance flew me over the Channel on the next night. So what about you?
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