“I’m gonna be honest,” you started, looking to Rosie, who was one of the best pilots the Bloody Hundreth had ever seen—he flew the B-17 with the dexterity of a spitfire, and not as a large bus-like plane. “I didn’t understand a word you just said.” you said.

Rosie groaned. The deal had been he would teach you about the ins and outs of a Flying Fortress, in turn you’d show him some important handiwork from your knowledge as head medic. Still, you sat beside him in the cockpit and nodded along.