Speed, of course, was of the essence. The guns were dug in only so far as the spades at the end of the trails went, and they were sure to move within the hour.
Vunner wheeled the trolley with the benzine straight up to the wing root while another secured the grounding rod and a third lept up with the hose. A fourth opened the engine cowl and began to check fluids and fitness.
I handed my map to the Operations Officer, who was came riding up on his bicycle and soon joined by the Commander by means of a motorcycle. Orders were dispatched to our sister airbase where the Stukas had been standing by, ready to take off and strike.
I leaned against the fuselage. It was hot. I accepted the canteen from Ganz and poured it over my head the second I peeled the helmet from my head. The second from Schmitt I drank in one gulp to the suprise of everyone, including myself.
A runner approached on a motorcycle and yelled for us to hurry up and put them on line - the dive bombers were in the air and would be arriving shortly.
We took off in good order once my machine had been refueled. Vunner slapped the muslin taped over the guns and laughed, approving of my restraint in firing them, as there would be no time to rearm.
Ganz kept formation as we flashed past the Whistlers at the rendezvous and screened forward.
Within minutes he was calling out that Tommy was ahead and below us. I cleared he and Schmitt to engage at will as I let the first pass by to my right.
The second went past me as well, and I curved around to take him. Clearly they were in a haste as well, since it was only a pair of them sent to defend the battery!
He was too focused, and I could tell even at the start of my turn that I'd be on him in an instant.
Something flashed past my right window, and instinctively I looked backwards, seeing nothing.
Another flash to my right - a red streak of tracer - and I slipped to spoil his aim and see where he was.
Fortunately he had fired too soon - perhaps a spoiling shot (which had worked) - but I he certainly had my attention now!
Coming about in a tight turn to my right, I spotted the melee in the distance but had lost my attacker.
He had oversped me, and now I had a chance to turn the tables. I would climb vertically as hard as I could, twist it about to the left, and hopefully come back down as he completed his own half loop.
It worked, after a fashion. He was no longer behind me, if at a greater range.
Either he had lost me against the ground or spotted something else, but I had the angle on him.
Spotting me as I got a withering burst of machinegun round into him, he quickly broke right.
And then climbed. A masterful move; there was no firing solution for me.
Ganz flashed between us. I instantly knew that he had taken stock of my position as well as Ganz's and rightfully decided that my wingman was the greater threat. This was no starling!
He fooled me by breaking right instead of following the roll to the left, and the distance between us stretched to over a thousand meters in a second.
I was going to have to play catch up if I was to assist Ganz.
As I approached, it appeared Ganz had it well in hand, scissoring with the Englander but keeping advantage. The Britischer rolled unexpectedly, though, and broke from the dance, giving him an opportunity.
But it had cost him much by way of airspeed, and I was more than happy to cut in on my comraderen and pick up on the beat.
It was almost a shame to fire machinegun and cannon at such an artful pilot, but not too much of one when I thought of it later.
I pulled up past his wreckage with scant altitude myself.
Meanwhile, the radio was full of the Stukas cursing us for abandoning them, their tailgunners struggling to defend as they escaped from their strike mission.
Schmitt was cursing right back at them as Ganz and I rushed towards them. I could make out two fighters: one climbing high straight up from my sight, the other flying low to the left. Fifty-fifty odds, as the radio was too full of bickering and the Stukas instructing eachother into mutually supporting formations.
I chose the one to my left, as I was still building up steam and wanted the airspeed more than the altitude at that point. Naturally I got the wrong one!
He clearly knew who the enemy was, and I followed his left hand turn, determined to support him.
They were two smudges in my sight - Ganz on the right firing at the roundel to the left, bookmarking my sight ring.
Ganz extended, and once again I rushed in to assist in the kill.
After making my pass with guns and cannon, I spotted a fighter trailing smoke above me. Schmitt called out that he was going to finish him, having made the holes in the manifold to mark him.
Coming back around I noticed the P-40 wasn't flying so much as gliding under moderate power. I held my guns and flew over. The pilot was dead, slumped terribly in his harness, and soon tumbled into the hard scrabble of the desert.
Schmitt followed his own down to the ground, ensuring his gun camera took long footage of the ditching.
We formed back up and landed. One of the Stukas had taken some minor damage and diverted to our base, but the others all made it back to their own.
[epilogue, etc., tomorrow]
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