Here it was again, to the right of him. Lips pursed into a thin, unyielding line, light brows drawn tightly in concentration, Johann followed it with unwavering determination and shot at his target from a close range, releasing just enough ammunition without wasting any. He only had fifty training rounds, after all, and he had shot more than half of them already.
The third round he released from a further range, cursing at himself for not coming close enough and ready to burst into tears at the very thought of how he had just failed his very first gunnery exercise.
“Twenty four out of fifty.” The instructor’s words barely registered in Johann’s mind as the instructor shook him out of his desperate state, clapping his shoulder and laughing at his most promising cadet’s dazed look. “The best result that I’ve ever had since I became an instructor here! Are you sure you haven’t practiced anywhere prior to this?”
“Quite positive, Herr Leutnant,” Johann replied bashfully.
“Well, cadets, you have some example to follow now!” The instructor was already motioning the next student toward the aircraft. “Excellent work, Cadet Brandt! I think you’ll make an exemplary fighter pilot if that’s what you want to be.”
“Yes, Herr Leutnant!” Johann’s eyes shone with delight. “That’s exactly what I want to be!”
Our Leutnant said he’d recommend me for a fighter pilot’s position once I graduate, Johann wrote later that evening to Mina. She wrote to him first, right after both Willi and he returned back to school. Johann still cringed when he recalled the expression on his friend’s face as he handed him the letter, written in perfect calligraphy. Someone has the hots for you, you stud. Johann reddened to the roots of his hair and hid the letter in his pocket, to which Willi only laughed◦– don’t you think I have read it already? It’s my baby sister we’re talking about.
After that, every time Willi was writing home, he invariably asked Johann if he should enclose anything else in his envelope. Johann always had a letter, addressed to Mina, on hand for him.
Schwechat, Austria. May 1939
Rudi burst into the room, accompanied by Walter and a few other cadets◦– all in the highest of spirits◦– and pulled a face at the sight of his roommates, Johann and Willi, lounging on Willi’s bed, each with a book in his hands.
“What are you fellows doing? They finally give us the two-days May Day leave after all the abuse they’ve put us through and you’re still not dressed? Willi, you were supposed to show us the best place around, if I remember correctly. Erm, you didn’t mean your bed, did you?”
“Can’t go out,” Willi grumbled in response. “I’m restricted to quarters.”
“Again?” One of the boys made a desperate gesture with his hands.
“No wonder, after what you pulled during the aerobatics exam.” Walter’s lopsided grin instantly reflected on Willi’s face.
Johann also grinned, in spite of himself, at the memory. Needless to say, in Willi’s eyes, he didn’t “pull” anything. It’s just he was too bored to fly in tight formation together with everyone from his group; so, he decided to demonstrate to the instructors what he was really capable of, so he broke the formation and began performing his own stunts. All right, he finally admitted later, he might have flown far lower than any safety precautions demanded of the students and passed over the airfield at the ten feet mark instead of the permitted eighteen; and perhaps he shouldn’t have gone low and slow and picked up a white windsock off its pole with the tip of his wing just because he could and perhaps he shouldn’t have shouted from the wing of his fighter, “can your RAF do any of that?” once he climbed out of the cockpit… Yes, definitely shouldn’t have done that last thing, Willi concluded once he saw the wrathful faces of his instructors.
Another punishment and negative entry went into his service record, which was by now thicker than a small-town telephone book. A reckless sort; not reliable in teamwork; unprofessional in military bearing and attitude; noncompliant and disrespectful to his superiors, made up only a few of the great number of violations.
“How they haven’t thrown you into the infantry yet is beyond any understanding.” Rudi shook his head.
“They can’t. I’m a good pilot,” followed an unconcerned reply.
“Johann, are you coming?” Walter demanded.
“No. Someone has to keep Willi company.”
“You can’t babysit him your entire life! Let’s go!”
Willi stirred in his bed and spoke with a lazy gaze in his friend’s direction, “they’re right, Johann. Go, enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine here. I have my book and all.”
Johann cast him a doubtful look◦– Willi and books didn’t quite go together◦– but finally gave in to Willi’s ardent reassurances that he needed some time to relax anyway. Only a few hours later, when the cadets were celebrating May Day in one of the taverns, it was none other than Willi who appeared before their astounded faces and cringed after one single critical look around.
“Is this your idea of fun, you miserable virgins? Austrian yodeling, beer, and no women? This place is boring me to tears. Come with me; I’ll show you what it means to celebrate with taste!”
“Are you quite mad, you ignorant bumpkin?! Herr Hauptmann will have it with you! You watch how fast they throw you into the Wehrmacht right before graduation,” Johann hissed in his ear as the company was marching down the street mere minutes later following their newly assumed leader, like mice behind the Pied Piper. “Aren’t you restricted to quarters, you dung beetle?”
“I un-restricted myself.”
“I knew I should have stayed there with you!”
“And how exactly would that prevent me from going out?”
Johann only sighed in response. It wouldn’t.
“Don’t fret. We’ll have a grand time!”
That evening Johann was certain that this latest stunt of Willi’s would have him expelled right before graduation. Yet, Willi stood right next to him when the instructors were awarding the best students, in the presence of Reichsmarschall Göring himself. Both graduated with honors for gunnery and aerobatics.
September 1939
At the end of August, Johann, Willi, and Walter were posted to the same I Jagd Lehrgeschwader (LG) 2◦– the original combat composite unit and assigned to the Leichte Jagd◦– “light fighters,” while Rudi received his assignment to the Gruppe IV, Stuka◦– his favorite dive bombers. Four days later the war broke out.
Their usual banter in the mess was interrupted with a sudden fanfare blast of a Sondermeldung, which was followed by a special bulletin on the Deutschlandsender◦– the national radio network. They listened to the declaration of it silently, their still boyish faces taking on guarded, mature expressions as it hit them all at once that the time of horseplay and harmless aerobatics was over and from now they would have to shoot not at the drogue but at a very real enemy.
A Staffeladjutant appeared in the door, a breathless figure with a suddenly paled face. “Finish your meal and march to receive your orders from your respective group commanders at once. You’re flying out within the next hour. Heil Hitler.”