PROLOGUE
Jabbeke Airfield, West Flandern
6 Mai 1918
1200hrs
“I hope you two enjoyed yourselves last night!” asked the Staffelführer in a stern voice as he regarded the two NCOs standing at attention on the other side of his desk.
“My orders were for the Staffel to parade at 0800hrs this morning," Oberleutnant Werner Bastian continued, his voice rising, "by which of course I meant ALL officers and men!"
"Herr Oberleutnant - " began Vizeflugmeister Hans Goerth before the officer cut him off.
"Bleib ruhig!" commanded Bastian, "I have not given you permission to speak."
The officer stood up and stalked the room, his hands clasped behind his back.
"I expected more from you Goerth, you are one of our best Jagdflieger," said Bastian, gesturing to the scoreboard hanging on the wall of his office. "Five victories and only yesterday awarded the Eisernes Kreuz I.Klasse! And you Oberflugmeister Bühl," Bastian continued, "you are the most senior NCO pilot in the Staffel, I expect a man of your experience to set a better example."
The two NCO pilots shifted uncomfortably but almost imperceptibly in place, their eyes fixed to the front. Each man was aware their uniform was far from regulation, creased and crumpled, and their stubble betrayed the fact that neither had shaved since the previous morning.
"Jawohl Herr Oberleutant!" replied Oberflugmeister Albin Bühl, his voice hoarse from the previous evening's revelry.
"Yes what?" demanded Bastian.
"Yes Herr Oberleutnant, I should have set a better example," replied Bühl, "and yes Sir," he continued after a short pause "we did enjoy ourselves."
Whilst the Oberflugmeister kept a straight face, it was all Vizeflugmeister Hans Goerth could do not to laugh out loud, and he had no chance of stopping the smirk that flashed momentarily across his face.
Oberleutnant Werner Bastian was stony faced as he returned to his desk. "Well I hope so, because it will be the last 'good time' either of you will have for the foreseeable future."
Looking up at the two unshaven men, Bastian continued. "You have left me no choice, I have to set an example. You are both confined to barracks for one month. You will continue operational flying duties during the DAY," he said, accenting the last word, "and each EVENING at 2000hrs you will report to Leutnant Nagel for night flying training. If indeed you both have inexhaustible reserves of energy perhaps we will test the limits?"
"Jawohl Herr Oberleutnant," Bühl and Goerth answered together, with no sign of the previous good humour left on their faces.
"Now get out of my sight," Bastian ordered, "and for God's sakes shave and change your uniforms - you smell like a cross between a Belgian brewery and a French bordello!"
The two men came to attention, Bühl saluted and they both marched out of the duty hut.
As they crossed the field Hans Goerth asked the older man "Who would have guessed he knew what a French bordello smells like?", a grin returning to his face.
The Oberflugmeister continued marching. "A month of no leave, no drinking and extra flying duties," he commented, before looking across at Goerth returning his smile - "and worth every minute."
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