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Teacher becomes even more bold.

Gwen remembered his kept a picture of his girl, Karman Kaye, in the breast pocket of his uniform and taped it to the controls during their missions. Taking one last look around for witnesses, she ducked under the fuselage and stood upright inside the bomb bay.

Like she had been doing it all her life, she climbed up into the fuselage. The interior of good ol' Shoo Shoo Baby was musty and dim, and she sensed the presences of her comrades' spirits and the soul of the airplane itself. Gwen deftly climbed further up, passed the navigator's position and climbed into the top turret. She looked out and saw the crowded inside of the museum's hangar. Her imagination heard the concerted thrum of the four Cyclone radial engines as they cruised with one hundred sixteen other B-17s and fifty-four B-24 Liberators inbound for a ball bearing plant, deep within the dangerous heart of Nazi Germany. Anti-aircraft fire from the ground left ominous black puffs of smoke in the sky all around their formations, while "little friends" in their P-38 Lightning, P-47 Thunderbolt and P-51 Mustang fighter planes kept the Mescherschmidt ME-109s away. The aluminum skin of Shoo Shoo Baby rattled and banged as shell fragments and bullets peppered her without mercy. Fifty-caliber machine gun fire was heard mingling with the drone of the engines and the occasional electric whir of the ball turret as Missouri Mick spun it around as needed to take aim. Over the intercom, someone warned there was an ME-109 at five o'clock low. Its pilot was determined to knock them out of the sky even at the cost of his own life, for the protection and glory of the Fatherland. Gwen nervously fingered the triggers of her fifty-calibers as she scanned the skies above them for hostiles-

"Danny?"

Gwen's heart froze. She crouched down and saw a young man standing next to her post. His eyes were wide as he looked at the college-age woman, trespassing just like he was in a World War II-vintage B-17 Flying Fortress on static display in an airpower museum.

"Rose?" Gwen whispered in awe.

The college-age man Gwen had called Rose nodded slowly. "I got a telegram from the Army Air Corps that you'd been killed coming back from a mission," he said uncertainly. He must have known how weird that would sound to a complete stranger.

Gwen nodded. Drinking in the details of the man she'd never met but knew so well. "I got hit in the chest by a shell fragment," she whispered, touching the place where her birthmark lived. Before her strange memories started to surface at age three, Gwen had wondered why the jagged, crescent-shaped birthmark looked so familiar. Now she knew-

It was where she had been mortally wounded in her previous life.

"I cried fir days," the young man told her. "I vowed I would never marry after losing the only man I had ever loved. Mother tried to tell you would want me to go on, but I knew we would be reunited one day. I knew we would."

"As I lay there dying," Gwen added softly, gesturing toward a spot a few feet aft of the bomb bay, "I vowed I would touch your face again. I would find a way to see you and love you, and be loved by you." She reached up and gently touched his face, trailing her fingertips over his proud and strange-yet-familiar chin in the way she knew he liked. "I am so glad we found each other again, Rose Kaye Davenport."

"So am I, Daniel Ray Halvert."

The reincarnated couple shared their first kiss in sixty years. Salty tears slipped down their cheeks as they marveled at the dim memories becoming brighter within the passion. Their kisses grew steadily more confident and urgent as the nervousness of their present-day personalities was eclipsed by the love both remembered from a more innocent time when the entire world was at war.

Lips massaged lips, necks and earlobes.

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