The room was so quiet and the major so calm that Gabi was sure he could hear her heart pound. “To be a fighter pilot and sacrifice myself defending the Fatherland would be the greatest honour,” she said, but her brows crossed and her voice wavered enough to expose her self-doubt.
A smirk appeared on the major’s face. He moved towards the desk and took a seat. “Have you flown before?”
“My Onkel Albert took me on a flight many years ago, and I have never forgotten it.”
“Onkel Albert? Is he a Luftwaffe pilot?”
“He’s in the Luftwaffe, but he doesn’t fly in combat. Onkel Albert’s not my real uncle either, he’s my godfather,” Gabi said eagerly, grateful that Major Stern was showing some interest. “His name is Albert Kesselring.”
The major leaned forward, knocking some pencils onto the floor and disregarding the mishap entirely. “General Kesselring is your godfather?”
Gabi looked at the scattered pencils and wondered if she should pick them up. “Why, yes. He and Tante Liny are my godparents.” She bent down to retrieve the pencils.
“Leave them.”
She sat back down and watched as he strummed his fingers on the desk.
“Have you spoken to your uncle about this?”
Gabi hesitated. She had deliberately not asked her godfather, knowing that he was sure to discuss it with her father.
“No, Papa says I should always do things on my own merits and besides, he’s too busy now,” she said.
Major Stern grinned. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be eighteen at the end of the month.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
She thanked him for his time, saluted and left the room with a spring in her step.
Major Stern made some enquiries with administration regarding their position on females in combat. As aerial attacks were not deemed as hand-to-hand combat, female fighter pilots were technically admissible. He spoke with Captain Bauer about Gabi’s performance in the engineering school; he described her as exemplary.
Traditionally, trainee pilots were sourced from the Hitler Youth Glider Training Camps but this was not a prerequisite. There seemed to be no good reason why Gabi could not commence pilot training other than she was a girl and given that the board had already approved her acceptance into the academy, he saw no reason why she couldn’t start immediately. Providing she passed the physical exam, she could join the spring intake of recruits.
He advised Gabi and she made her way without delay to the medical unit for her physical check-up. Healthy and fit, Gabi was given the all-clear.
Gabi thought it best not to approach Michael with her news for although she had not intentionally used him, his friendship seemed less important to her now. Besides, he would be graduating within the month and would be transferred to another base. Instead, she told Josef and the other engineering students that she would be starting pilot training with the new intake.
“I’m happy for you, Gabi. I know it’s what you’ve always wanted to do but those pilots are a breed unto themselves. They’re cocky egomaniacs, and they’ll give you a hard time as sure as the pimple on my nose,” Josef said with grave honesty.
Unperturbed, Gabi merely smiled at Josef and his throbbing pimple.
“And what about your father? He’ll have a fit when he finds out.”
Gabi grimaced. Yes, he would be mad but what he did not know would not worry him—at least for now. She would tell her father after she had settled in and proven herself.
April 1940
Dawn spread through the sky in soft pastel hues, gently coaxing the world back from its slumber. Today was Gabi’s first day of pilot training and she was wide awake, nervously watching a pair of swallows nesting outside her window. They darted and swooped back and forth, bringing morsels of mud to build their castle perched under the eaves, an amazing feat of engineering. Gabi studied their agility and lightning reflexes. She marvelled at their erratic flight patterns—if only a fighter pilot could fly like a swallow.
She made her way to the dining hall, taking a seat with her engineering buddies where she toyed with her breakfast and chatted about nothing. The cadet pilots watched from across the room, mumbling their disapproval.
Major Stern was their instructor. Competent and respected, he demanded nothing short of one hundred percent from his fledgelings. The cadets would train on a variety of aircraft, requiring a minimum one hundred and fifty flying hours to obtain their pilots licence. They would also be allocated a fighter plane to refine their skills and build their flight hours.
After a safety briefing, the fledgelings were herded out into the yard where they waited in line for instruction. Each cadet was given a paper bag. Some of the cadets scrunched the bag into a ball; others tore it in half. Gabi inspected her bag and folded it neatly into her jacket, deciding to keep it although she knew not what for.
The test plane was a Bücker Bü 131 Jungmann and it reminded Gabi of her first and only flight with Onkel Albert for it too was a bi-plane with two open cockpits in tandem, fixed landing gear and wings made from wood and fabric.
The pilot, Major Stern, would take each cadet on a brief flight to see if they had the stomach for it. The other instructors joined them on the tarmac—apparently, this initiation was entertainment not to be missed.
“Each one of you will spend ten minutes in the air under my control. I will perform a few manoeuvres to gauge your tolerance for speed, aerobatics and g-force. If you’re still in any condition to fly, you will be given the opportunity to take control of the craft under my instruction. Any questions?”
Gabi shuffled from one leg to the other. She held her hand up and waited for permission to speak.
“Yes, Cadet Richter.”
“Major, I have a question. What is the paper bag for?”
The major’s brow rose. “I thought you were smart, Cadet Richter—you work it out.”
The others sniggered, and Gabi felt her cheeks burn. She knew that most of them had gliding experience and, therefore, thought nothing of a few barrel rolls and corkscrews. But one by one they climbed into the bi-plane only to clamber out after ten minutes of Major Stern’s torture test. The paper bag was put to good use by some cadets, others preferring to puke down their uniforms like a badge of dishonour. Instructors were taking bets on who would remain vomit free. The odds looked decidedly poor for Gabi.
“Cadet Richter, are you ready?”
“Yes, Major Stern.” She climbed on board, adjusted her cap, buckled herself in and grinned.
“I’ll soon have that grin off your face.”
The plane coasted down the runway, ascending steadily to an altitude of two thousand metres, whereupon the major commenced his aerial routine. He eased into a slow and gentle inside loop, gradually progressing to more difficult and demanding stunts.
After five minutes, he checked on his passenger.
“All good, Cadet Richter?”
“Yes, Major.”
“Then it’s time for the fun to begin.”
The plane spun and Gabi’s braid dangled freely in the wind, rotating with the craft as it looped and twisted and looped again. She squealed, turning to grin at the major behind her.
“Again! Can we do that again?”
The major shook his head. “Let’s see how you cope with this.”
The plane ascended to twenty-five hundred metres before stalling momentarily and plummeting into a spiralling vortex of terror that weaved a trail of vapour from its wingtips. Gabi’s chest compressed and her brain throbbed from the pressure as blood surged to her head, but she kept her breathing deep and controlled. With only moments to spare, the plane swooped and rocketed up again like a charged champagne cork. The blood rushed the other way, her head light but still lucid.