Bandit Incoming
"All planes report in, we are nearing the border," he said.
"Wolf-Three standing by," came a woman's voice. MacCraig knew the voice. Flight Lieutenant Victoria Winter was one of the best pilots in the regiment. He had a theory that her elven senses gave her an edge in the air; not that there was anything wrong with that. She had saved his life numerous times.
"'Wolf-Four standin' by," a gruff voice crackled over the Radio. Warrant Officer Arzeg 'Bull' Whitaker was the only orc in the regiment. MacCraig enjoyed Bull's company and they had shared many drinks after sorties.
"Wolf-Seven standing by," reported Flight Sergeant Sean Houston. Sean was a volunteer from Perendim. He joined the RAC when war was declared. He was a real maverick, always pulling risky manoeuvres. But it kept him alive.
"Copy that," said MacCraig, "ETA to the Azoran border is about fifteen minutes. Keep your eyes sharp. You know how those Tanners like to come out of the sun." A chorus of rogers came over his headset. He buckled his mask, and pulled on his tinted goggles.
The time passed and they crossed into Azoran airspace. The pilots were quiet, the only sounds was the whistling air and the rumble of the engines. MacCraig felt his nerves rising in his gut. It was very quiet. Suddenly a Luftwehr plane dove out of the blue, its machine guns rattling.
"BREAK!" cried MacCraig. He banked hard to port, searching the sky for the bandit. "I don't have eyes on him!"
"Ten O'clock!" came Bull.
"I see him," said Winter. MacCraig watched Winter's plane dive after the enemy fighter. She got on his tail. There was a burst of red tracers from Winter's guns. He didn't see if she hit as another plane appeared behind Houston.
"Wolf-Seven! Check your six! You got one on your tail!" cried MacCraig, banking to get on the bandit's tail. He had just come around when a burst of green erupted from the bandit. A fireball tore apart the plane and the bandit took a tight turn to starboard.
"Damn it! Wolf-Seven is down," reported MacCraig. He kept close to the enemy plane. The bandit wove through the air. MacCraig watched his reticle like a hawk. The enemy crossed the reticle. He gave the bandit a squirt. Sparks confirmed the hit, but the enemy rolled 180 degrees and dove into a loop. MacCraig copied the manoeuvre. He lined up his reticle again. His finger anxiously hovered over the trigger button. He saw his opportunity. His guns rattled. Sparks flew from the fuselage and white smoke appeared. He waited as the bandit dropped into a corkscrew and crashed into the deck. MacCraig levelled out.
"Report in," he called.
"Wolf-Three here, bandit down."
"Wolf-Four here. All good."
"Houston bought it," reported MacCraig, " Keep watch, there's sure to be more. Let's finish this patrol before we take anymore losses."
"Copy that Wolf-Leader," said Winter. They returned to formation.
"Climb to fifteen thousand feet, Let's not have another come from above."MacCraig pulled his stick back and began to climb. He watched his altimeter. They levelled off and continued their flight plan. About ten minutes passed before three more bandits appeared. They attempted to climb to the same altitude of Wolf Squadron.
"We got bandits below, three o'clock," reported Winter.
"Copy that, I see them. Break and engage," ordered MacCraig. The Blackfyres split off and dove towards the enemy fighters. MacCraig targeted the lead plane. He let a two second burst fly. The two rear bandits broke off. The lead plane however fell into a spiral.
"Lead bandit down. Anyone got eyes on the others?"
"This is Wolf-Three, got my eyes on him." MacCraig searched for Winter's plane. He found her above him slightly. She squirted the bandit. A stream of black smoke billowed from the fuselage.
"Nice shot Wolf-Three!"
"Thank you Wolf-Leader."
"This is Wolf-Four, my engine is packed up. I'm gunna have to bail out! The
bastard got me." MacCraig watched as Bull's plane levelled, propeller stationary, and the canopy opened. Bull climbed out and leapt from the wing. The canvas parachute opened as he dropped towards the ground.
"God Speed Bull," whispered MacCraig. The calm his prayer brought him was destroyed as he watched the enemy fighter fly in and spray the parachute. Holes tore through the canvas and Bull plummeted down towards the deck.
"MOTHERFUCKER!" screamed Winter. He watched her roar towards the last bandit. Her fury could be felt in MacCraig's cockpit. He watched as she zeroed in on the enemy and with a long burst, blew the bandit from the sky.
"Well done Wolf-Three. Heading back to base."
"Copy that Wolf-Leader." MacCraig could hear the hatred in her voice.
"I'll buy you a pint Winter," said MacCraig.
"Yes Sir." The planes banked to port, and headed back across the border. The flight back to the aerodrome was a quiet one. MacCraig wanted to radio Winter but he decided against it. Once the adrenaline wore off the understanding of what had happened washed over MacCraig. His stomach churned upon the realisation that there were only two planes left in Wolf Squadron, in three months they had lost ten pilots. A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed, suppressing tears. He took a deep breath. There would be time to grieve when they landed.
The air crew was solemn when the two remaining planes of Wolf Squadron landed on the strip. MacCraig immediately after leaving the cockpit, lit a cigarette. He moved over to Winter's plane. Her silver eyes were red and puffy, and her pointed ears were red. She sniffed as he offered her a cigarette. She never smoked, but she took it anyways. He lit it for her. She coughed as she inhaled.
"Fuck. How do you smoke these?" she wheezed.
"You get used to it," he smiled, "Here, let's get you a drink."
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