Hans woke up with a hangover. After yesterdays fight the commander had bought beer for every pilot.
The commander realized that his men, who were defending the Reich against the British and American bombers, were at the frontline. Only two years ago the commander had been fighting Spitfires above London. It seemed like ages ago.
Now it was they who were defending the home of their countrymen. If the allies could only learn to accept that the only real danger were the Bolsheviks.
Hans and the other pilots stumbled in the briefing room. They would soon get a rough waking.
“Welcome gentlemen, I see you had a wonderful time last night.”
Some pilots yawned, others sipped from their coffee, which by now had become a real luxury product. Luckily the quartermaster had been able to obtain some from the black market.
“The Amis won’t take your hangover into account. We take off within an hour to be ready for when they come.”
Since several weeks the American bombers had crossed the channel near the same spot. You could set your watch on it. And as usual the Luftwaffe fighters would be waiting for them.
“Ok, guys, lets roll”
Just like the commander had promised, the American bombers showed up. Hans sat in awe in his cockpit. There were bombers everywhere. How on earth could he survive this?
But then he remembered what he taught his students at the flight academy. Despite their array of guns the bombers could be defeated in several ways.
You could attack them head on, shattering the cockpit with bullets. Another method was diving with high speed from higher up, firing at the bombers cross-section before pulling up or diving through the bomber formation. Key was not to linger in the bomber formation, because it’s cross fire was deadly. The final method was to single out a bomber with several fighters and attacking it until it had to leave the formation. A bomber out of the formation was like a sitting duck in water. It would attract all the fighters, ravaging it like hungry sharks.
Hans was high above the bombers so he chose to dive through the formation. He reversed his fighter, looking down through the canopy to the bombers below him. He singled out a bomber back in the tail of the formation and pulled the stick forward, diving towards his victim.
The altitude meter wounded down with tremendous speed. The bomber got bigger and bigger. Hans pulled the trigger, first firing with his machineguns, then with his cannons, as he got closer. His aim was slightly off because his shells hit the wingtip of the bomber. But the brute force of the explosive shells ripped of almost two meters of wingtip, sending the bomber in a deadly spiral to the ground.
With a screaming engine, Hans roared through the bomber formation. Tracer fire swung after him like angry bees trying to defend the mother bee. It was like a new year’s party, fireworks everywhere.
Once he cleared the formation, he pulled up, using his momentum to climb to higher altitudes again.
Suddenly Hans spotted a bomber below the formation. One of its propellers was no longer spinning. That would be an easy victim, slow and lumbering, without protection from the formation.
Hans dove again through the bomber formation, ignoring the tracer fire, aiming for the lonely bomber below the formation.
The wounded bomber was an easy victim. With its tail-gunner shot dead there was no one to warn the rest of the crew of the approaching fighter.
Hans pulled up behind the bomber. He could see the tail-gunner slumped behind his guns. Cautiously Hans approached the bomber. The gunner could be faking his death. But as Hans approached he realized the gunner was really dead.
It was time to finish the job. Since nobody returned fire, Hans could take his time to line his shots. He waited until he was in range of the canons before peppering the bomber with fire.
The shells pierced the bomber, tearing of panels and smashing cables and hydraulic lines. Each shell exploded into a fiery ball of shrapnel. The number four engine tore off its bay. But still the bomber kept flying.
Hans had heard of the strength of this bomber but he could not imagine it could take such a beating. He got even closer, firing shell after shell at the tail. Then the large tail broke of, falling like a giant leaf. Hans imagined that the bomber would now crash, but it kept flying.
He flew even closer to inspect the damage to the bomber. Suddenly a small figure jumped from the bomber, followed by another figure. The crew was bailing out. Hans considered using the unmanned bomber as target practice but a nasty surprise awaited him.
While chasing the lonely bomber, Hans had failed to notice the two Thunderbolts overhead. These American fighters had spotted the troubles of their big friend and dove in. They came to late to save the bomber but they swore to avenge its dead.
The first sign of trouble for Hans, were the tracers flying by his cockpit. Lucky for him the Thunderbolt pilot was a lousy shooter.
Hans twisted his aircraft around, rolling and breaking left and right to get rid of the Thunderbolts. But like pit bulls they hung on his tail. Hans dove towards the ground, too late realizing his mistake.
The Thunderbolt is a really heavy fighter and could easily out-dive the Focke-Wulf.
Hans pulled up at treetop level, skipping over houses and trees in a desperate attempt to outrun the Thunderbolts.
The Thunderbolts flew above him, each making a run once the other had pulled up. The only thing Hans could do, was weave his aircraft.
But the Thunderbolts had great difficulty at firing on him. They could not dive long enough out of risk of crashing into the ground. Furthermore they were rapidly running out of fuel.
Finally the odds turned in Hans favor. He reached his airfield. The anti-aircraft gunners spotted their comrade in danger and opened up with everything they got.
The Thunderbolts, already low on fuel, had no wish to risk this heavy ground fire for an additional kill and peeled off.
Hans was able to land safely. But once safe on the ground he noticed how his hands trembled. He had a close call.
One by one the other fighters landed back on the base. Most pilots jumped out of their cockpit, full of joy because they had shot down many bombers. Some fighters were missing, while other pilots who had to bail out, hitched a ride to get back to base.
The commander approached Hans who sat near his aircraft, while mechanics were refueling and rearming it.
“How did you do, son?”
“Modestly good sir, I got two bombers but a fighter got really on my skin.”
“I understand, you have to keep an eye out for these American fighters. They are fast and tough.”
Somebody ran out of the barracks towards the pilots sitting on the grass.
“British bombers.”
All pilots rose up, grabbing their gear.
“British bombers are heading for our ships near Le Havre, everybody should get airborne”.
Were the American bombers a decoy to lure the fighters away from the main British attack? All pilots, including Hans, grabbed their gear and ran back to their aircraft. Lunch would have to wait.
The mechanics were just closing the ammunition panels as Hans jumped on the wing of his fighter.
“She’s armed and fuelled to the top sir”, yelled the mechanic as the engine roared to life.
Hans gave the mechanic thumbs up and closed the canopy. One by one the fighters rushed back into the sky, heading for Le Havre
They arrived just in time to spot the bombers attack the boats in the harbor.
“All Wolves, attack those bastards”
The commander let loose his fighters. Hans dove straight through the enemy pack. He noticed the spitfires guarding the bombers, but he had to ignore them because the bombers were awfully close to the ships.
He focused on 3-ship formation of bombers. Hans did not have time to properly aim. Firing with all guns, he hoped to disperse the formation. Two bombers immediately brook away, but the third kept going on. Hans pushed the rudder and slid behind the bomber. He covered the bomber in a blanket of shells and bullets.
Almost immediately the left engine broke off. The bomber pilot pulled hard on the stick to evade the rain of fire. But the second engine stopped abruptly when fuel lines were hit, starving the engine from fuel. As a heavy glider the bomber flew away. Hans had no time to finish the kill; the bomber would anyhow crash in a nearby field.
There were still too many bombers around. The ships in the harbor had opened with everything they got, but the bombers kept coming in, undeterred by the tracer fire and exploding shells.
Hans circled outside this anti-aircraft barrage, looking for another victim. Suddenly he spotted a bomber limping out of the barrage, trailing black smoke.
The bomber had been hit and was now limping back home on one engine. But Hans would prevent that. He circled above the bomber waiting for the right moment.
Hans pushed the stick and dove after the bomber. He waited until he was almost on top of the bomber, before opening with all his guns.
The bomber must already have been hit in its fuel tanks, because as soon as the first shells of Hans canons hit the aircraft, it erupted in a ball of fire. Hans had to pull hard on the stick to avoid the debris of the exploded bomber.
As Hans pulled away from, tracer fire passed over his wings. Again he had not been paying attention. Now it was a spitfire on his tail.
Hans immediately rolled over and dove for the ground. The spitfire had trouble following his mad dive. Low at the ground Hans pulled up, climbing again. The spitfire still diving adjusted its path to meet the climb but overshot Hans, who now in turned trailed the spitfire.
The two fighters started to scissor around each other. But neither one of them got into a good firing position.
This game seemed to last forever before the spitfire made a mistake allowing Hans to stick behind its tail. The spitfire turned like made, but Hans kept hanging on. Finally he got the shot. Hans pulled the trigger, firing two-three bursts before the guns went silent.
Empty, his magazines were empty! The spitfire must have realized what just happened because he climbed, rolled over and reappeared behind Hans. Without guns Hans was a sitting duck.
But then he spotted the ships in the distance. It was a gamble but he had to take it, hoping the ships gunners were good at aircraft recognition. He dove towards the ships risking the gauntlet.
The gunners did recognize the Focke-Wulf diving towards them. They also recognized the spitfire behind it. In unison all gunners started firing on Hans pursuer. The Spitfire was torn apart by at least 8 guns and tumbled as a burning wreckage to the ground.
But some stray bullet did also hit Hans aircraft. With a coughing engine, he had to look for a safe place to land.
Hans spotted the airfield near the harbor. Without hesitation he dropped the fighter on the runway. A spitfire, probably the wingman of the one that got shot by the flak, tried to strafe him while he was on the ground, but gunners around the airfield managed to chase him away.
Hans quickly jumped out of his cockpit and ran for the nearest trench. He jumped right in on top of a feldwebel.
“Are you allright sir?”
“Yes, sorry that I landed on you.”
“It’s nothing sir, I am glad you guys are kicking butt out there”
Just as the feldwebel spoke those words another bomber crashed nearby, to emphasize his point.
Hans had to sit out the rest of the fight on the ground, watching how the rest of the squadron took care of the remaining bombers.