And just like that, their childhood ended.
For the first time, they strapped on their parachutes in charged silence. For the first time, there was no exchange of jests and guffaws over the radio; only their Staffelkapitän’s voice directing them to Poland. Stuka dive bombers◦– in the front, below them; a Staffel formation of Messerschmitts◦– right behind them, providing cover. It was oddly quiet in the sky, not as Johann had always imagined it would be. He kept shifting his eyes from his unit leader’s fighter to Rudi’s Ju-87; saw him follow his bomber unit leader and dive down; felt something strange stir inside as bright orange flowers bloomed in rapid succession over a Polish military airfield, destroying planes and hangars without any discrimination. What was its name again? He forgot…
Stukas below them repeatedly plunged, one after another, until they jettisoned all of their deadly load and only then turned languidly back to the base to be refueled and rearmed. Messerschmitts trailed after them without engaging in combat even once. It appeared as though the Polish Air Force didn’t have time to order any of their fighters into the air before the Luftwaffe struck in the graying hours of the morning. Johann wondered if Polish pilots on the base were aware of the war at all.
They returned to the base with a mixture of disappointment and confusion reflected on their young faces. Willi was the first one to announce, in a cheerful voice, that he wished that the whole war went like that and received grateful answering grins from Johann and Walter. Only Rudi sat next to his Stuka, with his head in his hands, without any movement until his friends walked over to retrieve him.
“I swear, I saw people on that base,” he mumbled, staring with unseeing black eyes somewhere through Willi’s tunic. “I know that Herr Hauptmann said that there was no one there but I swear I saw them running before I dropped the bombs.” He looked up with some desperate gleam shining in his eyes. “They’re all dead, aren’t they? Oh God, they’re all dead.”
“Hey, Rudi, calm down; you don’t know what exactly it is that you saw—” Willi tried to touch his shoulder, but Rudi suddenly sprung to his feet as though propelled forward with some wild emotion.
“Calm down?! You come talk to me after you score your first kill. Then I’ll grant you the right to tell me to calm the fuck down!”
He stormed off before anyone had a chance to stop him. Willi only exchanged astonished glances with Johann and Walter.
“Rudi never curses…” Walt’s voice trailed off against his will.
“There weren’t any people on that base,” Willi asserted with an odd look about him. “He must have imagined it all.”
“Yes, he must have,” Walter agreed, almost breathing out in relief. “Herr Hauptmann wouldn’t lie to us. The Luftwaffe doesn’t engage with an unarmed enemy; everyone knows it,” he finished with implacable conviction.
Johann only stared in the direction in which Rudi disappeared, a brooding feeling nagging him.
Johann didn’t miss a word from his Staffelkapitän’s pre-flight briefing. It was only two of them going on the reconnaissance mission today, with Johann flying as a Staffel commander’s wingman◦– a high honor and a tremendous responsibility at the same time.
“Don’t fret,” the Staffelkapitän’s reassuring tone and a soft smile told Johann that he was in good hands. “Most likely, we won’t encounter the enemy at all today. If we do, consider yourself lucky; you’ll learn how to deal with them. Just listen to my commands and follow them and you’ll do just fine.”
With his aircraft serviced and ready, Johann climbed inside the cockpit, strapped in and moved his thumbs to the outside, signaling the crew chiefs on the ground to remove the wheel chocks. After the engine was cranked into life, he waved the ground crew and his fellow pilots on the ground and followed his flight leader into the leaden sky.
The weather wasn’t particularly brilliant that cold, September morning. The clouds hung in dirty, torn shreds all over the airbase, bringing visibility to the minimum. Fierce gusts of wind howled around them, rattling their aircraft from the moment of take-off. They flew low and slow, ensuring to remain below the clouds◦– so thick and heavy with rain that they would obscure them momentarily from each other’s view had they climbed higher. Johann clung to his flight leader’s wing like a blind kitten, following its mother’s scent.
“Two enemy fighters down and low, eleven o’clock.” The radio suddenly came to life with his commander’s nonchalant tone. “Get ready to follow me and intercept.”
Johann craned his neck at once, peering into the bleak countryside below. “Where?” He mouthed to himself, desperately trying to locate the fighters. He only saw fields combed for harvesting, ribbons of roads and endless vastness underneath. His Staffelkapitän was already diving down.
His sweaty palms concealed by the gloves, Johann clutched his stick with force, peering ahead of him in silent desperation. He had finally caught up with his flight leader, yet he still couldn’t see the enemy fighters for the life of him. Suddenly, they materialized in front of his stunned gaze as though out of thin air◦– close and clear◦– and Johann cried out in joy at the chance to score his very first kill. He was the best one in his school, wasn’t he? His gunnery was excellent; he knew precisely what to do…
His mind in complete and utter excitement, Johann gave the engine full throttle and closed onto his goal. A burst of machine gun fire; in cold horror, he watched his tracer bullets all land far to the right of the enemy aircraft. The aircraft itself was already turning sharply, together with his wingman, most certainly to get on his tail and do away with the insolent German. With an inaudible gasp escaping his parted lips, Johann realized another horrifying fact; he couldn’t locate his leader behind him. Only the two fast approaching enemy aircraft.
“Herr Staffelkapitän…” His voice came out in the form of the most pathetic, shameful meowing, stiff with fear. Not finding any better alternative, Johann decided to go for the clouds and pulled his stick forcefully into himself. “What do I do now?”
“Don’t sweat it; you’re fine.” Johann almost cried in relief when he had heard his flight leader’s calm voice, even though it was quite distorted by the radio. “You need to come down from the clouds so that I can locate you.”
“All right,” Johann mumbled, all of the rules for radio conduct completely forgotten. Slowly and carefully, he lowered his altitude. Land. He could see land again. Land and the clouds above him. And a single aircraft which had latched onto his tail at once.
“Oh, God!” Johann cried out, diving sharply and pulling the stick to the left. The radio was now completely dead. He was certain he would die as well that day.
Unable to connect with his flight leader and unaware of his fate, Johann brought his fighter limping back to the base almost with no fuel. His hands trembled so violently that he couldn’t undo his straps without the crew chief’s help.
“First dogfight?” The crew chief asked sympathetically, gallantly pretending not to notice Johann’s cheeks stained with tears.
“There wasn’t even a fight,” Johann admitted, red-faced with shame. “Is Herr Staffelkapitän…?”
“There he is, taxiing. He followed you here all along, making sure that you landed all right.”