Rudie and max had been friends since childhood, cousins by birth, friends by choice. Since joining the same unit their relationship had become increasingly strained. Being Max's senior by two years, Rudie had in childhood generally come out on top, whether it be in a scrap, shooting, hunting or in most athletic pursuits, apart from horseriding, where Max excelled, being able to guide whichever nag he rode, to the finish first, through gullies or gliding over jumps. Lately though Max had been a hit with the ladies, where Rudie had always muscled or bought his way in, max could turn on the charm. Much to Rudies displeasure.
Max could generally keep out of his way on the ground when rudie felt like kicking the cat. However in the air Rudie was boss, an what he said went, whether he agreed or not.
He expected this patrol to go like many others,if all was good, the glory would be rudies, if it went wrong somehow it would be Max's once more. He'd landed the latest patched up bird, unluckily for Max she'd been rushed out for this patrol, his usual steed was grounded with engine trouble, straffing fire from that Tommy observer in his patrol had been a little too close, no markings on this replacement could cause problems no matter which side of NML they were, the ack ack boys were twitchy enough already.
Rudie had been worried about Max recently, whenever he approached, Max seemed to shy away, he wondered whether being his patrol officer was a problem. He'd spoken to the C.O. about Max's ever increasing distance, he'd suggested they go out on this patrol together, Rudie had expressed his worry about the unmarked plane, but Kramer had just given him "the look". Max's father had made Rudie promise that he would bring Max home in one piece, this seemed to be getting harder everyday.
Rudie's mind came back to the job in hand, as he scanned the sky, Max had obviously been trying to dodge the ack ack, since they'd neared the front. But he appeared a long way off, had that last patrol, shaken him up that much. They'd not got the chance to catch up since.
Rudie spotted the monoplane emerging from a cloud bank to the north, west of his position, he hoped the Maltese cross would appear, he didn't like the distance between him and his wingman. Damn french roundels!
Rudie pushed his engine that little harder, the "crapaud" (sorry about the slang, anyone know the nickname the Germans gave the French?) didn't seem to notice, in fact he carried on in almost a blase manner, still heading on the same trajectory, as was Max, far to his right.
Rudie tried his gun, nothing, round stuck in the chamber, he desperately tried to clear it, the distance decreasing with every second. The look of shock on the French pilots face, visible at this distance was almost laughable. The dud round ejected from the chamber. At this range Rudie was guaranteed a hit.
The crapaud dinked to the right, just as Rudie was doing the same. Not good, time seemed to slow, he dared not look to his left he'd prefer not to see the round that killed him.
He heard the rounds splintering his planes fuselage for a split second, then it was gone. A quick check over his right shoulder, it was passing alright and heading towards tommy lines, he saw Max heading off to his right, was Max leaving him to fare on his own?
Max had spotted the monoplane as Rudie engaged, in that split second the roar reached his ears, the plane lurched to the right, making Max lose grip on the control stick. He managed to grab it back, but the plane wouldn't respond, stuck in a right bank.
He needed to get to Rudie asap, his friend needed him now, but all the time, his plane was drifting further away.
As Rudie began to climb making his next manouver he felt more exposed than ever, sure the Frenchman had the same idea and would soon be on his 6. Rudie pulled his stick right back and gave it a twist to the left as he sailed over. Levelling out he could see the Frenchman gunning it for his lines, not quite out of range, he unleashed what could be his final volley, more anger than accuracy.
Max had finally wrested control of his bird again, damning the ack ack, he gunned his engine, the plane lurched into the immelmann and came out just in time to see the smoke trail appear behind his target.
Those last few rounds must have caught something, the smoke was turning into flame, the flames were getting higher as if fanned by the wind. Rudies initial elation turning to dread as the thought of the panic going on inside the frenchman's head hit home, him desperately trying to out think the fire and kill the flames, a pilots worst nightmare, he'd rather take a bullet anyday.
The enemy plane began a dance from side to side, maybe Rudie could catch him and end his misery. A quick orientation check told him he was heading towards enemy lines, was that Max he could see, had he finally regained his courage? Rudie pressed down on the thumb stud to here the all to familiar click, damn, he was going to get his flight mechanic to check every round.
The Frenchman was diving towards his lines, the flames abating. Maybe he would make it?
In the distance Max could see his friends adversary heading for home. Rudie now banked to face him, he could make out the damage to his plane and hoped his friend was o.k.
Edit.
Obltnt. Rudolph "Rudie" Rocker: RTB /1 kill
Ltnt. Max Landauer: RTB / 0 kills
Lt Maximillian Martin: FLM FT/ 0 Kills: Rolled 12 -2(flamer) = 10 . pilot made the landing. Cheers Dave.
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