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[bw_wolverine]

...Continued!


The damaged 109 is growing larger in my sights as we soar 100ft above the masts of the German ships off the French coast...right into the midst of a large engagement. I count at least five aircraft before I see a wounded Hurricane being hounded by another 109, cannon tracers arcing through the air.

I stay with my original prey until I'm convinced I'm in the attacking 109's blind spot and curl off towards him. I've got a lot more speed and I'm closing fast now. He fires again! The damaged Hurricane nearly stalls as he evades! The 109 levels out and readies a killing blow just as I come into range right on his tail. I don't have much time. I'm going to be past him in a split second. A half second burst of fire and the 109 errupts in flames and I roar right through the blast, orange and red light flashing past my canopy!

I look out over my shoulder to see the other Hurricane limping off, trying to gain some altitude and make for home. There's no time to dip my wings to him. Another 109 is lining up a run on me. He's right on my tail and I'm weaving and using my rudder to mask my turns, slipping away from the tracers that flash past my starboard wing. We're so close to the water and I'm on the edge of stalling. One inch more on the elevators and I'll drop to the cold waters like a lead leaf.

Now we're weaving, scissoring back and forth as I try to use my Hurricane's manoeverability at low speed to my advantage. One, two, three times we trade sides. On the fourth, I get the opportunity and a quick squeeze on the trigger rakes his wing with bullets as he flashes past. And now we're both taking big turns, gazing upward as each other as we both know exactly what's about to happen....

He levels his wings as I do, carefully pitching his yellow nose right at mine. My grip on the column tightens as my thumb itches on the trigger. 1000ft...800ft...500ft.... Suddenly we're both firing, bullets spraying past each other. Neither of us balk. We're going to hit! The last possible moment and we both make our choice. I pull up. He noses down. The plane rocks with the buffeting I receive from passing within feet of the other. I quickly check my instruments and wings. A few holes, but otherwise fine. Twisting about I look behind to see a gout of water glittering in the sun before settling back to the surface of the channel. Must have killed the pilot.

I've had enough. My guns are almost out. My luck is likely more so. Peeling away to starboard, I gain to 5,000 and set for cruise all the way back to Lympne. I've done my part today.

And I'll do it again tomorrow.

Per Ardua Ad Astra

S!