“I didn’t see him… the radio died…”
“So, it did. It happens sometimes. But you’re alive and well, aren’t you? That’s what’s important. Now, come, let’s get you out of here.”
The big, strapping fellow in his black overalls easily helped Johann out of the cockpit. The Staffelkapitän was already waiting for him on the ground, smoking and smiling, much to Johann’s surprise.
“Well, you innocent little baby,” he started in jest, clapping Johann on his shoulder. “Want to come to my office and discuss the flight?”
Johann followed his flight leader to his headquarters, his head hanging low in embarrassment. The Spanish War veteran didn’t start shouting or belittling him though; instead, he poured Johann some cognac and calmly asked him what he thought he did wrong.
“I abandoned my flight leader.” With the calming effect of cognac taking hold of his strained nerves, Johann started analyzing the situation step by step. “I didn’t radio my intentions. I got in the way of my flight leader’s line of fire. I fired too far away from the target. I failed to locate my leader after the escape maneuver and I failed to see if anyone was following me when I was heading to the base.”
The Staffelkapitän whistled through his teeth, causing Johann to grin in response. “Impressive for the first time, if I do say so myself.”
“I’m sorry, Herr Staffelkapitän.”
“I know you are. It’s all right. It happens to everyone and particularly at the very beginning of your career as a pilot. Now, tell me this; what was your biggest mistake?”
“I got too excited and wasn’t thinking straight,” Johann replied without hesitation.
“That’s right. Hot-headed pilots don’t live long, Brandt. And I want you to live through this war. Fly with your head, not with your muscles and certainly not with your emotions. Think before you attack. Plan everything out. Do you play chess?”
“Jawohl, Herr Staffelkapitän.”
“Dogfighting is the same as chess, Brandt. You just need to see the enemy like figures on board…”
Two days later, Johann had scored his first victory under his flight leader’s careful supervision.
SEVEN
Poland, September 1939
With each passing day, their missions took them further and further, deeper and deeper into the country, barren and smoking, ravaged by the bombs and artillery fire. In no time, they had reached Warsaw, over which Willi scored his first victory.
They were assigned to two different Schwarm formations this time and both Johann and Willi flew as wingmen to their respective Rottenführer. As they encountered their first formation of Polish aircraft, Johann dutifully followed his leader on every maneuver, minding and clearing his tail just as he was prescribed to. And then, in the middle of a pursuit of an enemy plane, he suddenly heard Willi’s Rottenführer shouting his friend’s name over the R/T.
“Von Sielaff! Where the hell do you think you’re going?! Report back at once!”
Willi didn’t bother to radio back, only tailed one of the enemy fighters until both disappeared out of Johann’s sight altogether. Seconds later, both were back again, Willi pursuing his victim through every escape maneuver the latter tried to pull. The battle lasted a very long minute until a black trail of smoke burst from the Polish fighter’s fuselage.
“I got him,” Willi’s voice came through the radio, after which he rejoined his Schwarm as though nothing had happened.
Johann’s Schwarm landed first and they were already gathered on the ground when Willi landed. Surrounded by cheering comrades, he climbed out of the cockpit, holding up one finger in the air, his lips twitching slightly as though he wasn’t sure whether to smile or to burst into tears. At last, with tremendous effort, he forced himself to smile.
“You little rascal!” The crew-chief, assigned to him, was already brandishing a brush with one hand, holding a can with paint in another. “Get your rudder ready; let’s mark your first victory!”
“Von Sielaff!” Willi’s Rottenführer’s voice, laced with ice, chilled the atmosphere at once. “Report to the Staffelkapitän’s quarters at once! Everyone else◦– gather in the mess; we’ll discuss today’s sortie after Herr Staffelkapitän is done with Herr I’m-Too-Good-To-Fly-In-Formation.”
The walls in the hastily erected staff quarters were so unbearably thin that pilots could hear every single word of the torrents of abuse which were poured down onto poor Willi’s head behind the closed doors.
“Do you understand what you did?! You have abandoned your leader in the middle of the fight, leaving him alone and unprotected before the enemy, when it’s your very job to make sure that no one pulls into his blind spot from behind. He could have been killed because of your incredibly reckless action! Look at me when I’m talking to you! What is it? Oh, you’re sorry. Your being sorry would do a lot of good if I had to write a death report to your Rottenführer’s family today! I can’t even begin to enumerate how many important rules of combat you broke today. You abandoned your formation; you abandoned your leader; you didn’t radio your intentions; you pursued the enemy without orders and without a wingman, which could have also cost you your own life. I court-martialed pilots for less back in Spain! What do you have to say for yourself? Stop crying at once! Ugh… Gott! Heinrich, pour him some brandy. Stop crying, I said! Here, drink this… Congratulations on your first victory, by the way. Now, wipe your face and march to the mess. I’ll shame you some more before your comrades, so they’ll think twice before abandoning their positions after that.”
Despite the reprimand and the Staffelkapitän’s decision to restrict Willi to quarters for a week, the former had still permitted Willi’s comrades to take him out to the Staff bar that evening to celebrate his first victory. Willi toasted readily with everyone and smiled ceaselessly, only to Johann that smile reminded him more of a grimace, a pained and ghostly one, which passed over his face without actually touching it.
“It doesn’t sit well with me,” Willi admitted reluctantly to Johann’s question when they stepped outside for a quick smoke before returning back to the quarters. “I was so profoundly ecstatic at first… I scored my first hit, after only two weeks of combat. I was so proud when I saw him burst into flames and crash… And then it dawned on me that I killed him, Johann. I killed him.” He nodded several times, his amber eyes staring into the black velvet of the night, unseeing, glassy, oddly extinguished. “You know, I was sixteen when I slept with a girl for the first time. My father took me to some brothel, a very expensive one; chose the prettiest girl for me. And after that I thought, that’s it, my life has changed. I’m a man now… But today…”
His voice trailed off without him finishing his thought. Only when Johann turned to look at his face did he see the transparent trails of tears on Willi’s cheeks, quivering in the ashen light of the moonlit sky. He was crying without making a sound, without blinking even.
“Dearest Mina!
Today I scored my fifth victory. My Rottenführer is joking that it was me who terrified the Polish into signing the surrender. I told him back, in jest, that I would much rather prefer the British to sign the surrender as their RAF is far more fearsome than the Polish Air Force. I guess what I’m trying to say is that since we’re now at war with Britain, they’re posting us back to Germany soon and Willi and I will be given two-week’s leave (for our victories!) before we fly out to our new base in the north. I hoped that you wouldn’t mind spending them together, either in Berlin or in my hometown; I’ll leave it up to your choosing. Whatever you decide is fine with me, as long as I’ll be with you. Gott, I can’t even imagine the face your brother will pull after he reads this. You know that he reads all of our letters, don’t you? Willi, since you’ll be reading this, know this; yes, I’m in love with your sister and she’s the most wonderful girl in the world. There. I hope this gives you enough laughs for the day.