Of Knights and Dogfights Page 7

  They returned to the base with a mixture of disappointment and confusion reflected on their young faces. Willi was the first one to announce, in a cheerful voice, that he wished that the whole war went like that and received grateful answering grins from Johann and Walter. Only Rudi sat next to his Stuka, with his head in his hands, without any movement until his friends walked over to retrieve him.

  “I swear, I saw people on that base,” he mumbled, staring with unseeing black eyes somewhere through Willi’s tunic. “I know that Herr Hauptmann said that there was no one there but I swear I saw them running before I dropped the bombs.” He looked up with some desperate gleam shining in his eyes. “They’re all dead, aren’t they? Oh God, they’re all dead.”

  “Hey, Rudi, calm down; you don’t know what exactly it is that you saw—” Willi tried to touch his shoulder, but Rudi suddenly sprung to his feet as though propelled forward with some wild emotion.

  “Calm down?! You come talk to me after you score your first kill. Then I’ll grant you the right to tell me to calm the fuck down!”

  He stormed off before anyone had a chance to stop him. Willi only exchanged astonished glances with Johann and Walter.

  “Rudi never curses…” Walt’s voice trailed off against his will.

  “There weren’t any people on that base,” Willi asserted with an odd look about him. “He must have imagined it all.”

  “Yes, he must have,” Walter agreed, almost breathing out in relief. “Herr Hauptmann wouldn’t lie to us. The Luftwaffe doesn’t engage with an unarmed enemy; everyone knows it,” he finished with implacable conviction.

  Johann only stared in the direction in which Rudi disappeared, a brooding feeling nagging him.

  Johann didn’t miss a word from his Staffelkapitän’s pre-flight briefing. It was only two of them going on the reconnaissance mission today, with Johann flying as a Staffel commander’s wingman – a high honor and a tremendous responsibility at the same time.

  “Don’t fret,” the Staffelkapitän’s reassuring tone and a soft smile told Johann that he was in good hands. “Most likely, we won’t encounter the enemy at all today. If we do, consider yourself lucky; you’ll learn how to deal with them. Just listen to my commands and follow them and you’ll do just fine.”

  With his aircraft serviced and ready, Johann climbed inside the cockpit, strapped in and moved his thumbs to the outside, signaling the crew chiefs on the ground to remove the wheel chocks. After the engine was cranked into life, he waved the ground crew and his fellow pilots on the ground and followed his flight leader into the leaden sky.

  The weather wasn’t particularly brilliant that cold, September morning. The clouds hung in dirty, torn shreds all over the airbase, bringing visibility to the minimum. Fierce gusts of wind howled around them, rattling their aircraft from the moment of take-off. They flew low and slow, ensuring to remain below the clouds – so thick and heavy with rain that they would obscure them momentarily from each other’s view had they climbed higher. Johann clung to his flight leader’s wing like a blind kitten, following its mother’s scent.

  “Two enemy fighters down and low, eleven o’clock.” The radio suddenly came to life with his commander’s nonchalant tone. “Get ready to follow me and intercept.”

  Johann craned his neck at once, peering into the bleak countryside below. “Where?” He mouthed to himself, desperately trying to locate the fighters. He only saw fields combed for harvesting, ribbons of roads and endless vastness underneath. His Staffelkapitän was already diving down.

  His sweaty palms concealed by the gloves, Johann clutched his stick with force, peering ahead of him in silent desperation. He had finally caught up with his flight leader, yet he still couldn’t see the enemy fighters for the life of him. Suddenly, they materialized in front of his stunned gaze as though out of thin air – close and clear – and Johann cried out in joy at the chance to score his very first kill. He was the best one in his school, wasn’t he? His gunnery was excellent; he knew precisely what to do…

  His mind in complete and utter excitement, Johann gave the engine full throttle and closed onto his goal. A burst of machine gun fire; in cold horror, he watched his tracer bullets all land far to the right of the enemy aircraft. The aircraft itself was already turning sharply, together with his wingman, most certainly to get on his tail and do away with the insolent German. With an inaudible gasp escaping his parted lips, Johann realized another horrifying fact; he couldn’t locate his leader behind him. Only the two fast approaching enemy aircraft.

  “Herr Staffelkapitän…” His voice came out in the form of the most pathetic, shameful meowing, stiff with fear. Not finding any better alternative, Johann decided to go for the clouds and pulled his stick forcefully into himself. “What do I do now?”

  “Don’t sweat it; you’re fine.” Johann almost cried in relief when he had heard his flight leader’s calm voice, even though it was quite distorted by the radio. “You need to come down from the clouds so that I can locate you.”

  “All right,” Johann mumbled, all of the rules for radio conduct completely forgotten. Slowly and carefully, he lowered his altitude. Land. He could see land again. Land and the clouds above him. And a single aircraft which had latched onto his tail at once.

  “Oh, God!” Johann cried out, diving sharply and pulling the stick to the left. The radio was now completely dead. He was certain he would die as well that day.

  Unable to connect with his flight leader and unaware of his fate, Johann brought his fighter limping back to the base almost with no fuel. His hands trembled so violently that he couldn’t undo his straps without the crew chief’s help.

  “First dogfight?” The crew chief asked sympathetically, gallantly pretending not to notice Johann’s cheeks stained with tears.

  “There wasn’t even a fight,” Johann admitted, red-faced with shame. “Is Herr Staffelkapitän…?”

  “There he is, taxiing. He followed you here all along, making sure that you landed all right.”

  “I didn’t see him… the radio died…”

  “So, it did. It happens sometimes. But you’re alive and well, aren’t you? That’s what’s important. Now, come, let’s get you out of here.”

  The big, strapping fellow in his black overalls easily helped Johann out of the cockpit. The Staffelkapitän was already waiting for him on the ground, smoking and smiling, much to Johann’s surprise.

  “Well, you innocent little baby,” he started in jest, clapping Johann on his shoulder. “Want to come to my office and discuss the flight?”

  Johann followed his flight leader to his headquarters, his head hanging low in embarrassment. The Spanish War veteran didn’t start shouting or belittling him though; instead, he poured Johann some cognac and calmly asked him what he thought he did wrong.

  “I abandoned my flight leader.” With the calming effect of cognac taking hold of his strained nerves, Johann started analyzing the situation step by step. “I didn’t radio my intentions. I got in the way of my flight leader’s line of fire. I fired too far away from the target. I failed to locate my leader after the escape maneuver and I failed to see if anyone was following me when I was heading to the base.”

  The Staffelkapitän whistled through his teeth, causing Johann to grin in response. “Impressive for the first time, if I do say so myself.”

  “I’m sorry, Herr Staffelkapitän.”

  “I know you are. It’s all right. It happens to everyone and particularly at the very beginning of your career as a pilot. Now, tell me this; what was your biggest mistake?”

  “I got too excited and wasn’t thinking straight,” Johann replied without hesitation.

  “That’s right. Hot-headed pilots don’t live long, Brandt. And I want you to live through this war. Fly with your head, not with your muscles and certainly not with your emotions. Think before you attack. Plan everything out. Do you play chess?”

  “Jawohl, Herr Staffelkapitän.”

  “Dogfighting i
s the same as chess, Brandt. You just need to see the enemy like figures on board…”

  Two days later, Johann had scored his first victory under his flight leader’s careful supervision.

  Seven

  Poland, September 1939

  * * *

  With each passing day, their missions took them further and further, deeper and deeper into the country, barren and smoking, ravaged by the bombs and artillery fire. In no time, they had reached Warsaw, over which Willi scored his first victory.

  They were assigned to two different Schwarm formations this time and both Johann and Willi flew as wingmen to their respective Rottenführer. As they encountered their first formation of Polish aircraft, Johann dutifully followed his leader on every maneuver, minding and clearing his tail just as he was prescribed to. And then, in the middle of a pursuit of an enemy plane, he suddenly heard Willi’s Rottenführer shouting his friend’s name over the R/T.

  “Von Sielaff! Where the hell do you think you’re going?! Report back at once!”

  Willi didn’t bother to radio back, only tailed one of the enemy fighters until both disappeared out of Johann’s sight altogether. Seconds later, both were back again, Willi pursuing his victim through every escape maneuver the latter tried to pull. The battle lasted a very long minute until a black trail of smoke burst from the Polish fighter’s fuselage.

  “I got him,” Willi’s voice came through the radio, after which he rejoined his Schwarm as though nothing had happened.

  Johann’s Schwarm landed first and they were already gathered on the ground when Willi landed. Surrounded by cheering comrades, he climbed out of the cockpit, holding up one finger in the air, his lips twitching slightly as though he wasn’t sure whether to smile or to burst into tears. At last, with tremendous effort, he forced himself to smile.

  “You little rascal!” The crew-chief, assigned to him, was already brandishing a brush with one hand, holding a can with paint in another. “Get your rudder ready; let’s mark your first victory!”

  “Von Sielaff!” Willi’s Rottenführer’s voice, laced with ice, chilled the atmosphere at once. “Report to the Staffelkapitän’s quarters at once! Everyone else – gather in the mess; we’ll discuss today’s sortie after Herr Staffelkapitän is done with Herr I’m-Too-Good-To-Fly-In-Formation.”

  The walls in the hastily erected staff quarters were so unbearably thin that pilots could hear every single word of the torrents of abuse which were poured down onto poor Willi’s head behind the closed doors.

  “Do you understand what you did?! You have abandoned your leader in the middle of the fight, leaving him alone and unprotected before the enemy, when it’s your very job to make sure that no one pulls into his blind spot from behind. He could have been killed because of your incredibly reckless action! Look at me when I’m talking to you! What is it? Oh, you’re sorry. Your being sorry would do a lot of good if I had to write a death report to your Rottenführer’s family today! I can’t even begin to enumerate how many important rules of combat you broke today. You abandoned your formation; you abandoned your leader; you didn’t radio your intentions; you pursued the enemy without orders and without a wingman, which could have also cost you your own life. I court-martialed pilots for less back in Spain! What do you have to say for yourself? Stop crying at once! Ugh… Gott! Heinrich, pour him some brandy. Stop crying, I said! Here, drink this… Congratulations on your first victory, by the way. Now, wipe your face and march to the mess. I’ll shame you some more before your comrades, so they’ll think twice before abandoning their positions after that.”

  Despite the reprimand and the Staffelkapitän’s decision to restrict Willi to quarters for a week, the former had still permitted Willi’s comrades to take him out to the Staff bar that evening to celebrate his first victory. Willi toasted readily with everyone and smiled ceaselessly, only to Johann that smile reminded him more of a grimace, a pained and ghostly one, which passed over his face without actually touching it.

  “It doesn’t sit well with me,” Willi admitted reluctantly to Johann’s question when they stepped outside for a quick smoke before returning back to the quarters. “I was so profoundly ecstatic at first… I scored my first hit, after only two weeks of combat. I was so proud when I saw him burst into flames and crash… And then it dawned on me that I killed him, Johann. I killed him.” He nodded several times, his amber eyes staring into the black velvet of the night, unseeing, glassy, oddly extinguished. “You know, I was sixteen when I slept with a girl for the first time. My father took me to some brothel, a very expensive one; chose the prettiest girl for me. And after that I thought, that’s it, my life has changed. I’m a man now… But today…”

  His voice trailed off without him finishing his thought. Only when Johann turned to look at his face did he see the transparent trails of tears on Willi’s cheeks, quivering in the ashen light of the moonlit sky. He was crying without making a sound, without blinking even.

  “Dearest Mina!

  Today I scored my fifth victory. My Rottenführer is joking that it was me who terrified the Polish into signing the surrender. I told him back, in jest, that I would much rather prefer the British to sign the surrender as their RAF is far more fearsome than the Polish Air Force. I guess what I’m trying to say is that since we’re now at war with Britain, they’re posting us back to Germany soon and Willi and I will be given two-week’s leave (for our victories!) before we fly out to our new base in the north. I hoped that you wouldn’t mind spending them together, either in Berlin or in my hometown; I’ll leave it up to your choosing. Whatever you decide is fine with me, as long as I’ll be with you. Gott, I can’t even imagine the face your brother will pull after he reads this. You know that he reads all of our letters, don’t you? Willi, since you’ll be reading this, know this; yes, I’m in love with your sister and she’s the most wonderful girl in the world. There. I hope this gives you enough laughs for the day.

  Dearest Mina, I can’t wait to see you!

  Yours and only yours,

  Johann.”

  * * *

  They were inseparable in Berlin. Late October weather was still warm enough for them to spend endless hours walking in parks, holding hands and gazing at each other ceaselessly. Willi observed them on the very first day with a mysterious smile, excused himself from their company quite soon and to all of their protesting, only laughed in his usual careless manner.

  “I have a phonebook full of girlfriends who have been dying to see me. Besides, you two will hardly notice my absence.”

  Johann couldn’t get enough of those hours with her. He waited for her every single day outside the gates of her all-girls’ school with flowers in his hands, oblivious to Mina’s classmates’ giggles and envious looks which they threw her way. He kissed her modestly on her cheek then, but after, as soon as they would walk into a darkened movie theater, they attacked each other as two people starved; mouth on mouth, hands under the coats, until the lights would turn on at the end of a movie.

  At the end of the first week, when Willi’s father pulled in front of the house in his Mercedes, Johann ran out to him first and nearly took the unsuspecting driver off his feet.

  “Herr General, could you please spare a moment so I could speak with you alone?” he blurted, out of breath.

  “Yes, of course. What’s the matter?”

  Johann walked him further away from the entrance and turned to face him suddenly, his face flushed with emotion. “I would like to ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  General von Sielaff appeared to be at a loss.

  “Who? Mina?” He asked, at last, still looking thoroughly confused.

  “Yes, Mina,” Johann almost laughed. As though Herr General had another daughter.

  “But… she’s still a child. She goes to school…”

  “Yes, I know. I’ll wait one more year till she’s eighteen so we can get married but it would make me extremely happy if we were engaged, with your blessing, before
I fly back to the base, Herr General.”

  Deep in thought, General von Sielaff searched his pockets for his cigarette case.

  “You’re a fine fellow, Johann,” he said at length, carefully choosing his words. “And of course, I love my daughter and I wish only the best for her, which, I feel, would be you. But don’t you think that you two are a bit too young to marry?” Catching a blank, confused stare from Johann, he released a sigh and assumed a consciously patient smile of an adult talking to a child. “I married very young too; about your age as a matter of fact. I fell in love with Wilhelm’s mother and proposed to her within three weeks, with an absolute conviction in me that we’d grow old together. But then… I did this foolish thing which ruined it all.”

  He cast a probing glance at Johann – you do know the story perhaps?

  Johann nodded stiffly. He knew; Willi told him about the entire rotten affair. Frau von Sielaff was pregnant with Mina and Herr von Sielaff, a good caring husband, hired a girl to help her around the house. The maid developed feelings for her employer – such a banal plot, really! – Willi shook his head in disgust as he spoke. And then one day Herr von Sielaff made the mistake of reciprocating them. It wasn’t even an affair of any sort, according to his logic; he merely used her as a substitute for his wife whom he couldn’t touch while she was heavy with his child. The whole trouble was that the wife found out of course and then… He begged her for her forgiveness at first; then he cried; went down on his knees, but she had decided everything already. And so, he left her the house after the divorce and told her that he’d be paying for all of the expenses till the end of his life. Perhaps, he was hoping that she would forgive him eventually.

  “Do you know that Mina’s name was supposed to be Henrietta and not Wilhelmina?” General von Sielaff said with a sudden bitter snort of a chuckle. “When we were first married, we decided to name our children after our fathers, so since Wilhelm was born first, we named him after her father whom my wife loved and respected immensely. The second child would be named Heinrich or Henrietta after mine. But after... after the divorce, she named the girl after her Papa too. I don’t particularly blame her.” He chuckled softly. “She never remarried in the end and neither did I. Such a stupid mistake, which I blame solely on my being far too young and irresponsible. That’s why I’m saying all this to you, Johann. I want you to think long and hard about what you’re doing.”