//------------------------------// // Scramble!! // Story: The Ace // by Erstwhile Tail //------------------------------// John was a simple bloke, he spent most of his day working at Peckett and Sons steam engine works, both assembling and repairing Steam engines for the LMS and local industrial estates who had their own steam engines. The depression had hit the world hard, especially the railways, locomotives would come in, needing a severe overhaul, only to receive just the bear minimum of repairs. More often than not, the engine or wagon would need even more extensive repairs the next time it came in. John, as did many of the civilians during the summer of 1939 and during the last couple years had been listening intently to the radio for news of the growing Nazi power in Germany, their leader, Adolf Hitler, at first seemed to only want to lead the Germans to a better future. However after many attacks against what the Nazis depicted as 'undesirables', and who many of which were disappearing without much explanation, as well as more hostile rhetoric was pouring out of the country, tensions grew. John as well as many other civilians, not just in Britain, but across the world, sensed the impending war. John was quickly pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden realization he had set his friend on fire with the blow torch, William yelped and cursed, quickly slapping the flames out, and ripped off his burnt sleeve, his arm hairs had been burnt off and his skin was that of a severe sunburn. William looked at John, who's eyes had bulged, their co-working around them hadn't noticed as they to were hammering, welding, or riveting away on various locomotive parts, the noise would have been deafening to one who hadn't gotten used to it. William, now fully confident that he hadn't become a burnt piece of bacon or steak, promptly wacked John over the back of the head. "You fucking pillock!" William spat, "You weld the frame, NOT ME!" "Shit, sorry!" John replied, trying to hold back a chuckle, "C'mon Willy, it was an accident!" "I don't bloody care," He replied holding his sunburnt arm up, "This is the arm my misses likes." William was about 10 years older than John, at 34, had 3 children, 2 boys and a little girl. The boys were about to enter their teenage years. John at 23 was a bachelor, and doubted he'd find anyone other than a roommate. When John joined the workshop when he was 19, he had cocked up so many tasks that he'd been on the brink of termination when William, one of the most experienced workers for Peckett and Sons around, took him under his wing. They were on a team that worked for a few hours on Sunday and Saturday trying to repair a severely damaged steam engine owned by the ministry of Defense's Railways Operating Division, known more commonly as the ROD. Suddenly the lunch whistled sounded. "THAT'S LUNCH!" Their supervisor called and everyone dropped their tools and went to their lunches, Willy gave John one more whap over the head before following suit, John rubbing the back of his head ran to join him. Normally the chaps would eat their food outside, however they all sat in the workspace, not a word being said as the radio played the news that they all feared, I say again, the German military has crossed over Poland's borders. Many reports of small pockets of resistance have come in, but none have been able to stop the Nazi’s lightning war. British prime minister Arthur Neville Chamberlain made a statement saying, 'Germany's invasion is unprecedented and illegal. If they do not turn away from this ludicrous and outrageous move, then this country and its allies, will not stand by and watch, Thank you.' God help us all... that, was from our broadcast 2 days ago, today, on Sunday, September 3rd, 1939, The prime minister Mr. Chamberlain will be announcing on this matter, the time is 11:15am The radio went silent for a second, everyone stopped anything and everything they were doing, silence fell over the workshop. It seemed that even the birds and machines around the engine repair shed, as Prime Minister Artur Neville Chamberlain's voice crackled over the radio's speakers; {credit to BBC and Time Travel Artist for the audio} The room after that was silent, the enormity of the situation sinking in. Everyone simply stared, and even the most hardened men, began to show their fear. The Nazis were ruthless, and it was certain they would refuse to let Poland go without a fight. They all knew that this wasn't going to be an easy fight. John looked to William, The Great War, the one his father died in, wouldn’t be the end of war. John was awoken from his slumber, by the scramble bell. Falling out of bed, he hurriedly threw on some pants, and a shirt. Before running to his locker on the far side of the barracks, and began to put on his flight gear, which included a pad helmet, leather jacket, boots, and a deflated life preserver. By then, most of the other men were up, including William, who had joined the RAF with John shortly after the war began and had finished their training about 2 months later. As the pilots in the barracks ran out, and were about to make a beeline for their planes, there was a whistle, the sound of their busy body ground operator Sargent Richard Harmsworth or as they called him, Sargent Cock, though never to his face. The pilots all stopped, many groaning and cursing under their breath. He looked at his stop watch, with a pondering face, as though he was deciding how to build a Battleship with tooth picks. He looked at the men, all of whom were now obviously pissed at him. "Given the time it took you to get out here, not to mention, to take off, given your track records..." He looked directly at William, who was usually slow at accelerating his plane, before continuing, pointing to the planes lined up, which were a mix of Spitfires and Hurricanes, as well a couple of Bristol Beaufighters, which were Twin engine fighter bombers, "those would now be on fire and in pieces! You have to be better! The survival of KING AND COUNTRY depends on it! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!" The pilots all gave their answer, "YESSIR!" “Dismissed” The pilots, after that, went to get something to eat, and began their day of stand by, and patrols along Dover. The airfield was less than 25 miles away from the white cliffs, and it was expected that they would be some of the first hit should an air raid occur. So they were in constant standby. That's how it was, day in and day out for weeks, as the Luftwaffe began to push the RAF across the English Channel. Then, July 10th 1940, the day they came. John was playing Poker with William, it was just getting good, they were both all in. They were betting on some whiskey they'd nicked from a fellow pilot. Suddenly the air raid sirens sounded it's whining sound, growing and falling, at first, nether men thought that it was serious, as drills were a regular thing. That was, until they heard the sound of engines coming from above them. Both men looked up, and saw several planes, twin engine, and single engine ones. With the German Iron Cross. David, an American born pilot that had recently moved to Britain, ran out, "God damn, C'mon we got some German sons of bitches comin up on us!" He said sprinting for his Hurricane. John and William, tripping over their chairs, quickly followed. Grabbing their flight jackets, and life vests as they ran past where they’d left them. Their planes were only a few hundred meters away, but every second counted. The sound of a 12 cylinder V12 German engine roared above then, both looking skyward in time to see a Bayerische Flugzeugwerke 109 flying roughly 100-150 meters above the flattened ground that was the airfield, it dropped a small bomb from it's belly, both men hit the deck as the bomb dropped, it bounced, ripping up grass and dirt, flipping end over end, before sliding and rolling to a rest by their fuel lorry. Winston, their chief engineer, jumped out of the cab, and dove under the lorry, everyone around went still. Then after about 15 seconds Winston crawled out. Poked the bomb then called out. “It’s a dud!” he yelled with his arms in the air with relief. The bomb promptly detonated, cratering the runway instantly killing Winston and destroying the fuel lorry, it’s contents exploding only adding to the explosion and damage. John felt the blast in his chest, and the heat was intense. John and William quickly scrambled to their feet. John turned and ran towards the flaming wreck that was the Lorry with William calling out after him. He found the burnt body of Winston, there were several holes in his torso. John knew there was little hope he survived. William, grabbed him by the shoulders, "He's dead! C'mon, we have to stop them!" he yelled as more planes flew overhead, all of them German. John nodded, and then got up and both man ran towards their planes, both Spitfires, as the Scramble bell began to ring out, though with that explosion and the many German fighters flying overhead it was unnecessary for such a thing, John and William ran to their respective Spitfires, both hadn’t seen much combat nor had gone toe to toe with the Luftwaffe fighters, but both were willing to fight for their country. John tripped and fell over a piece of the lorry that had exploded, rolling in a heap, he cursed and picking himself up in time to see a 109 lay down fire on where he would have been if he hadn’t fallen. He forced himself to keep going, steeling his nerves. He reached his Spitfire, climbing the wing, and into the cockpit, checking the fuel and ammo gauges, both full. He jabbed the engine startup, the propeller began to spin lazily, before fire began to spit from the exhausts, and the propeller began to spin rapidly gaining full power. John quickly strapped his parachute on then buckled himself to the seat. The revs building on the Merlin engine and the propeller began to pull the fighter towards the runway. He followed William, his wingman, who had gotten off sooner. John gunned it, "This is Blow Torch, I'm right behind you Lamp Iron," John said into his radio mask. "This is Lamp Iron, I read you! Let's get those Jerry Bastards!" William's voice came over the radio. John got his air speed up, before pulling back on the stick, he felt the wheels leave the ground, and he quickly flipped the switch that would raise the gear. He pushed the throttle to maximum trying to gain altitude, following William, up into the clouds, on his 6, 3, and 9 were other Spitfires and a Hurricane. They were the only aircraft to get into the air successfully. They formed up, trying to catch up to the Germans as they flew inland. "Bombers, 2 O'clock Low," Came Jimmy's voice, call sign Camel, "I count about 7 with unknown amount of Fighter escort." John looked at the bombers, He-111s, and Bf 109 escorts, all with German Iron crosses on their wings, as well as Nazi insignias on their rudders, "Can we take them?" Asked Harvey, call sign Loft, "We're only 5, they outnumber us with bombers alone, and the rest of our group either got shot down or couldn't take off!" John looked in the mirror he'd stolen off of Sargent Cock's Rolls Royce that he used to see behind him. He saw only one British plane behind him. Looking over his wing, he saw several plumes of smoke where they had once stood or fell trying to take off. "Christ on a Bike..." John said to himself before into his radio, "Sundial, this is Blow Torch, Requesting assistance. Over!" "Sundial here, redirecting 2 Beaufighters to your position now ETA, 5 minutes out. Sit tight, Over!" Suddenly there was a popping sound as lead from one of the machine guns on the German He-111 Bomber scrapped their planes, "BREAK BREAK BREAK!" William yelled as his plane rolled to the left inverted before diving to avoid the gunfire, Camel and Loft rolled to the right following suit and John rolled in time to miss being shot down by a 109 that dove from the cloud bank above them, but it managed to hit the Hurricane behind him. "This is Yankee, I'm hit, gotta... gotta bail." Their local American Pilot, David, call sign, Yankee, called over the radio. He sounded weak, and in pain. John banked to see the Hurricane's canopy pop off and fall as the plane's engine smoked and began to fail. Flames bellowing from the engine, the plane then went inverted as David clambered out of his seat, he then jumped, clearing his failing aircraft. His plane's fuel tank catching fire soon after, resulting in the plane's explosion and disintegration. "Chute confirmed," John said into his radio as David's chute opened and he drifted to the ground, but he was quickly brought back to the situation as bullets ripped through his canopy grazing his forehead. Cringing in pain he banked hard to avoid the bomber he almost collided with before banking around, and under. Into a narrow blind spot he'd been told about. He put the belly of the bomber into his sights and gave a short burst of bullets into the bottom gunners compartment, silencing them for good before flying under, pulling up into a arc rolling into a dive, strafing the engines and fuel tanks in the wings. The latter burst into flames, causing the other to do so as well, the wing seemed to buckle before sheering off, and the plane pitched sideways and began a spiraling fall back to earth. John didn't have time to celebrate his first kill, as a quick glance in the mirror showed that he had a 109 close on his tail. John rolled as tracer rounds streaked past his plane, barely missing him. He went into a rolling scissors maneuver, each plane crisscrossing in a criss cross way, each one trying to force the other to overshoot, which would allow them to down the other. The 109 was slowing itself . As John banked right, and the 109 banked left towards him for the tenth time, the spitfire would likely be in the 109's crosshairs during the next pass, and there was little John could do about it. "Blow Torch, Button it!" John instantly banked left, just to the front right of the 109 before rolling inverted and into a dive to the right, pulling up until he was level again, whilst gunning the spitfires Merlin engine. Less then a second later he saw William, to their left, flying perpendicular to them. John shot past, glancing back as all 6 of William's Machine guns opened up on the 109's fuselage. The pilot must have been killed as the plane itself seemed to go limp and lazily began to lose altitude smoke and fuel trailing from the German fighter. "Hell of a shot!" Congratulated Camel who had seen the result the duel. The dogfight ended soon after, John scoring a fighter kill, and the rest of the bombers being chassed off by the 2 Beaufighters that were sent in to aid them. With their more powerful machine guns and cannons, were unleashed on the He-111s, many crashing to the ground while others limped back over the channel. Back to occupied France. When the Pilots landed, they were seen as heroes, some getting their first kills of the war, others across the country as well as in and over the channel were just adding to their growing list. Yankee would make a full recovery after being shot in the legs and torso a total of 7 times. The RAF pilots, not just stationed with John, but many across the Country all thought this particular skirmish would only last a few weeks at most. They couldn't have been farther from the truth. The battle about to commence would be the first major battle to only be fought in the air. For the brave men of both the RAF & Luftwaffe, the Battle of Britain, was about to begin.