France - Chapter 2

“Hi, James come do in”. James commands our ground crew, the lads who keep our aircraft airworthy. I've invited him to my tent, to discuss the stte of our squadron. Of all our aircraft only two are not operational due to battle damage and there is off course the aircraft of my predecessor, which is totally wrecked. I ask James what happened exactly to my predecessor. It turns out the previous squadron leadergot hit by anti aircraft artillery, which ruptured a fuel line. He had to make a crash landing in a meadow. Everything would have gone smoothly if it was not for a single cow which got in the way. The hurricane was wrecked and the squadron leader broke almost every bone in his body. He survived but the accident was even more tragic since he got shot out of the sky by French anti aircraft gunner.

But there was not much time left to talk with James. French spotters had seen 3 German bombers cross the frontline. It was up to us to intercept them. The bells sounded as I rushed to my fighter and took off with David Blackwell and Richard Atenbourg.

We could not miss the Jerries, we just had to fly to the small cloud puffs on the horizon. French anti aircraft artillery was already taking potshots at the Germans. I hoped they would have learned the difference between a Hurricane and a Heinkel by now.

“Red Flight follow me”, I yelled over the radio. I would dive first on the bombers with David and Richard hot on my tail. As such we would be able to pour constant fire on the bombers.

I as broke through the German formation, Dave was already firing at my target. The idea was that, while one aircraft fired at the German, the other two could move into position for another shot.

Richard was the last one to fire at the bomber, which already started to smoke from one of its engines. This made it much easier to detect our prey, we just had to follow the smoke.

Each of us made another run against the bomber, but it was Richard who gave it the coup de graçe. The bomber nosed over and dove right into the French soil. By that time I noticed a clinging noise coming from the engine. David warned me over the radio that their was a feint trail of smoke behind my aircraft. I could not noitce something wrong on the instruments so I decided to lead our formation against the two remaining bombers.

I singled out the last bomber in the formation. The German was trying to turn as tight as possible to get out the line of fire. But i slipped right into his turn and started pounding him until my guns felt silent. This was a bad time to run out of ammunition, in the middle of mad dive towards an enemy bomber. As I screamed underneath the bomber, I could swear I saw the frightened face of some poor German bloke.

Turning towards the airfield, the banging noise in the engine became louder and louder while It seemed loosing power. Suddenly the engine came to a screeching halt. I was too low and too far away from the airfield to glide back. My only remaining option was an emergency landing in a nearby meadow.

Gliding towards the meadow, I imagined my self ramming a French cow. Luckily for me the meadow was empty. The landing was a bit bouncy but as the wheels settled down, started to breath again.

But then a hidden hole in ground, managed to ruin my day after all. Before I knew it the right undercarriage was torn away and the aircraft skidded around on the right wingtip before burying its nose in the French soil.

At least the aircraft did not flip over itself. Once it came to a halt, all I had to do, was unstrap myself and clamber down alongside the engine. On first inspection, the propeller was bent and the fabric on the wingtip was torn a little bit; But nothing, besides the engine, seemed unrepairable. However the damage to my pride was far bigger as I now had the displeasure to walk back to the airfield.

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