Just Desert
Peter Bouncer-Smythe could hardly believe it. Two days ago he was delivering a Spit to the Rock, and now here he was taking off from the Arc Royal with an escort of Stringbags, with a Hurricane on its way to Malta.
After an uneventful four hours in the air, he eventually put down at Hal Far aerodrome just before dusk.
With hardly time to swing his kitbag, he was told that on the following day he would be taking the Hurricane on to Tobruk. By the time he arrived at his final destination, the Hurricane needed a complete overhaul, which is why he now found himself on patrol somewhere over the Libyan desert in an old Gloucester Gladiator accompanied by Flt.Lt. Ronnie Sanderson in a similarly careworn machine just off his port wing.
The sheer boredom of the patrol over nothing but a featureless expanse of sand was starting to irritate Peter, when he suddenly spotted two shadows streaking across the terrain below.
Shading his eyes against the glare of the sand, he made out that the shadows were proceeding a pair of Italian Falcos some 1000 feet beneath the Gladiators.
That the Italian pilots were as bored as Peter was, became clear when the two Gladiators dived onto them. Neither machine attempted any manoeuvre until the incoming fire from the British machines shook them out of their reverie.
Hit hard and with the one opposed to Peter already in flames, they returned a desultory fire.
Peter banked immediately to get behind his opponent whilst Ronnie decided to Immelmann.
These manoeuvres carried Peter towards the second Falco, whilst Ronnie was now firmly glued to the tail of the burning machine.
As both Falcos now attempted to turn away, Peter overshot his target, but Ronnie got off a long range deflection burst which just caught the Falco as it passed in front of his nose.
Peter's Falco continued to burn, as Ronnie took a second unsuccessful pot at the other machine.
Whilst the first Falco continued to burn Ronnie closed up on the trailing machine.
Once within range he opened fire.
As it crossed in front of him he gave it another burst at point blank range, and a white vapour started to be emitted from the Italian's engine.
Meanwhile the other machine well out of the fight, though it twisted and turned continued to burn for several minutes.
Finally given the slip by his antagonist, Ronnie now got back on the case of the burning Falco, whilst the other one, ran straight into the arms of Peter.
With on sustained burst, Peter delivered the coup de grace to the stuttering Falco, and with a convulsive shudder its engine stopped and it plunged into the sand followed by it's pilot dangling from his brolly.
Before he could complement himself on his success, bullets whistled past his canopy, as the other bird, its fire materialised behind his tail.
With Ronnie trying to get back into the action, Peter Immelmanned again and snapped off an unsuccessful shot at his tormentor.
Both aircraft now indulged in a game of chicken, and it was the Italian who turned first.
In his frantic manoeuvre almost colliding with the returning Ronnie.
Ronnie's reactions were too quick for the Italian this time, however, and performing a banking turn he put a shot or two through the Falco's tail.
this proved to be enough to finish the Falco, and in a very shallow dive the pilot put his aircraft down on the sand.
Running on for a few hundred yards it gently nosed into a softer patch and came to a stop, with it's pilot already to open the hood and jump clear if necessary.
Having ascertained their coordinates of the downed pilots, Ronnie and Peter returned to base, low on both fuel and ammunition, but brightened by the fact that their patrol had brought them a score of one a piece, and a total of two altogether for young Peter Bouncer-Smythe.
THE BUTCHER'S BILL
The Italians.
Two pilots downed, both uninjured. Picked up by a passing patrol.
The English. RTB. Elated.
Rob.
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Good one Rob!
Originally Posted by Skafloc
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