Fick, you don't want me flying for the Axis. I can see it now .......................
Leutnant Fick leads a flight of four ME-109s, call sign Shickelgruber. The four fighters weave lazy S-curves over a gaggle of bombers. The Channel glistens in the morning sun.
"Achtung! Shickelgruber flight! Hurricanes!"
As the formation splits up, Shickelgruber Two, Feldwebel Old Guy, frowns behind his oxygen mask. "What did he say? I can never understand what he's saying." The feldwebel is talking to himself. His years as a married man have taught him to voice his complaints in a low mumble. Thus, even he doesn't hear them.
"Hurricanes!" shouts someone else.
Old Guy looks around. "No hurricanes here. Some puffy clouds down below. What was that fool talking about?"
Dark shapes flash by on either side. Old Guy looks around again, but fails to see the British fighters diving down to attack the bombers. Nor does he see the Spitfire angling in for a deflection shot. Bright lights sparkle in the sky. His fighter shudders. A line of ragged holes appears in his right wing.
"Schiess, my airplane is coming apart!" Toggling his radio button he calls, "Here ist Old Guy. Hello. Hello." A blast of crosstalk is his only reply.
He pushes the button again. "I'm going home. See you at the club." He eases into a standard rate turn and heads back toward France. Several British pilots take a shot at him as he leaves, but they consistently underestimate his slow turns and moderate speed. He arrives back at the airfield with plenty of fuel.
"What happened to Fick?" asked the adjutant.
"Beats me," said Old Guy. "What's to drink? I'm starved."
Shickelgruber Three and Four returned an hour later. Fick showed up two days later. He spent several hours in the Kanal before a French fishing boat picked him up. Someone handed him a wine bottle, then another, and another. He was stinking drunk and reeked of mackeral when a friendly truck driver dumped him at the airfield gate.
Fick was disciplined for conduct unbecoming an officer and transferred to a Stuka squadron. Feldwebel Old Guy asked for and recieved a transfer to the Department of Brothel Inspection. He was assigned as a pilot for Edwin Rommel, Brothel Inspector General.
So you see, Fick, it's best if I confuse and dismay the Allies. Unless you really want to die in a Stuka?
OG
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