Entry: June 9, 1941

June 9th, 1941

Syracuse, Sicily

The bright Meditteriean sun once again bridges across the green and grassy landscape of Sicily. Today, it was the Italian's turn at smashing through Malta's walls of fire and try to burn Grand Harbor's dock facilities to the ground. Dozens of SM.79's and their accompyning escorts of Macchi C.200 roared by as they flew low over the base. The planes flew so low that the prop wash and the wake turbulance from the aircraft almost blew me and Hans off our feet and startled some of the AA crews around the base. Their engines roared so loudly that I could barely comprehend what Hans was trying to say to me. When that was over, I took out the Kublewegen back to Syracuse. I fired up the old VW engine and sped away from the base. The sea breeze was refreshing and laden with the sweet taste of sea salt. As I approached the city, I noticed some Italian warships in the harbor. I wondered what could be happening across the Meditteriean and in North Africa. I continued on my way, pondering the reason the Italian warship's purpose in the harbor. I went to Salinda's vacation home. I rapped at the door and the door opened slowly, revealing Salinda on the other side.

"Good morning", greeted Salina. She had a few suit cases behind her. Try as she might, she knew she couldn't hide them away from me.
"You're leaving?" I enquired.
"Yes", she responded in a sad manner. "I'm going back to Germany, my father wants me there for my uncle's funeral."
I nodded. I understood what her uncle ment to her. However, I knew that she had more to say.
"I'm not coming back to Syracuse, Johannas. I'm sorry. But my father wants me back in Germany since the war is growing more feirce." Again, I nodded and offered to help her pack. She declined the offer and I slowly made my way back to my car.
"I'll write to you." She said as I got into the car. I nodded at her and drove away. I went back to the base and caught up with my crew cheif. The ground crew was all over my plane, as always. For some reason, it sometimes appeared to me as though the ground crew looked like ants on an apple. "The plane is in good condition," reported the cheif, "might be nice if you got this thing a few more bullet holes! My guys have nothing to repair!" He grined and I chuckled at the notion. I climbed into the cockpit, and I asked that the cheif adjust my gun's convergance range. He nodded and signled the crew to jack up the tail of the fighter. One of the crew members started to load the guns and cannons. On the cheif's signal, I let rip all my guns and cannon. The crew made adjustments, for I wanted a convergance range of about 1000 meters. The crew adjusted the weapons until it suited them. The cheif then had the plane towed outside to a small clearing just across the hangers and fighter ramps. The plane's tail was jacked until the plane came parallel with the ground. A crew member then ran off, measuring 1000 meters as he did so. He then placed a target and ran for cover. The cheif signaled the test to begin. 20mm and 7.96mm ammunition went flying towards the target. When I was finished, the cheif signaled the member to check the target. All the ammunition struck the target, and I was satisified with the results. We then towed the plane back onto the ramp and prepared it for tommrow's mission. It was already getting dark, so I went to the canteen to grab dinner. Another day in Sicily just came and went.