Wing Commander Marco Gundogan gunned his fighter plane’s engine and soared into the hazy orange sky. Forty minutes later he was hovering over Bath, ready to deploy the deadly missiles that would wreak havoc and devastation across the city.
That was the plan until he saw three dots in the distance coming towards him. He had to release the bombs but they were much too close. He danced and dodged around them for a few minutes before clumsily grabbing his parachute, wrenching open the cockpit door and leaping out into the air, hoping and praying to God that nobody saw him landing in the barren fields rushing up to meet him.